M Is for Magic
By Neil Gaiman and Teddy Kristiansen
4/5
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About this ebook
Stories to delight, enchant, and surprise you.
Bestselling author and master storyteller Neil Gaiman here presents a breathtaking collection of tales that may chill or amuse readers—but always embrace the unexpected:
- A teenage boy who has trouble talking to girls finds himself at a rather unusual party.
- A sinister jack-in-the-box haunts the lives of the children who owned it.
- A boy raised in a graveyard makes a discovery and confronts the much more troubling world of the living.
- A stray cat fights a nightly battle to protect his adopted family from a terrible evil.
These eleven stories illuminate the real and the fantastic, and will be welcomed with great joy by Neil Gaiman's many fans as well as by readers coming to his work for the first time.
Neil Gaiman
Neil Gaiman is the New York Times bestselling and multi-award winning author and creator of many beloved books, graphic novels, short stories, film, television and theatre for all ages. He is the recipient of the Newbery and Carnegie Medals, and many Hugo, Nebula, World Fantasy, and Will Eisner Awards. Neil has adapted many of his works to television series, including Good Omens (co-written with Terry Pratchett) and The Sandman. He is a Goodwill Ambassador for the UN Refugee Agency UNHCR and Professor in the Arts at Bard College. For a lot more about his work, please visit: https://www.neilgaiman.com/
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Reviews for M Is for Magic
641 ratings48 reviews
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Uneven. The best stories are gold, but there’s plenty of copper here too. The troll story and the boy raised in the graveyard stand out as the best.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Older short stories that foreshadow his better works to come.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Really good.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Why. Why. Why do I keep subjecting myself to Gaiman? I've yet to enjoy anything he's written. Such a waste of time.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Some of the short stories seemed like they would appeal to adults more than teens. Some were very original and well-written; some were so-so.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Another solid collection of Gaiman's short fiction (and a poem), there are several repeats here from other sources. Then again, that's the nature of collections, isn't it? This set is geared more toward the young adult category, and is precisely the sort of thing I would have loved when I was 10. The standouts include the much-lauded "How to Talk to Girls at Parties," the clever and funny "Chivalry," and the Bradbury-esque "October in the Chair."
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5M is for Magic is a delightfully creepy collection of short stories from Neil Gaiman. These stories are typical Neil Gaiman, and I find that is a phrase that I frequently use about his work, but that's the best way to put it: typical Neil Gaiman. He has a way of writing something that is so fantastical in such a matter-of-fact way that if you were to encounter one of these stories in the real world, you'd feel like it was an everyday occurance, yet special all the same.The stories are written for a younger audience, so they aren't quite as creepy as they could be, but that isn't saying that these stories aren't creepy and a little dark in their own right. Some of the stories that stuck out the most for me: The Case of the Four and Twenty Blackbirds is a perfect example of Mother Goose meets crime pulp fiction; Don't Ask Jack is a little disturbing in it's vagueness and the secrets the Jack in the Box holds; Sunbird tells the tale of the Epicurian Club and their desire to expand their appetites to the extreme; and The Witch's Headstone was later incorporated into The Graveyard Book. The accompanying illustrations by Teddy Kristiansen are dark and creepy, so they fit in with the rest of the stories perfectly.I enjoyed M is for Magic, but I'm thinking I should have maybe spaced the stories out a little more instead of reading them all at one time. Once finished, I was left wanting a little more, and I think that's because they are short stories, and I really wanted a little more substance from my latest Gaiman selection. Maybe it's time to move onto one of his novels for an 'older' audience, or maybe revisit The Graveyard Book; don't get me wrong, I really enjoyed these stories. Maybe as a bit of advice to other readers, space them out. You'll be able to savour them that much more.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The introduction was indeed a marvellous introduction! I believe everyone can or will understand where he is coming from. A lot of your childhood is made up of short stories. Brilliant things they are and will carry on being so for many years to come. Yep you got it this book is made up of short stories, eleven to be precise.At first I was confused as to why magic, then I started thinking well most stories have some sort of magic all on there own whether it being fantasy, horror, sci-fi or even non-fiction. There is something about the words being put together in certain ways that makes each and everything I read magical.These are most definitely nonsense. Every story was magic in it's own way.These are my favourites.......The case of the Four and Twenty Blackbirds...This is about Jack Horner (you know 'little jack horner') infact this is about detective horner. Someone killed humpty dumpty. He did not actually fall off the wall he was pushed.... dun dun dunnnnn. I could not help but smile all the way through this (sad I know).Don't ask Jack...This is four pages long, four damn pages. You know that feeling when the hairs on your neck stand on end? Yep that feeling. Well I had that while reading this. Four pages brought about that. It needed to be longer to keep the effect but it was there all the same.October in the chair....This starts with the months of the year sat around a fire camp drinking apple cider telling stories. October tells a story about a boy called Runt. Runt being the name he is nicknamed by the older brothers. Anyway Runt runs away. He takes a bus, then walks for a while. He ends up in the meadow by an old farmhouse. Then a ghost of a little boy shows up so on, so on, so on.. It's freaky in it's own way!I just realised I was about to write them all down. They are all my favourites. I do not think I could possibly choose between them! *Palm smack* Why don't you see if you can decide??
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5all the Gamin books are good; the only flaw here is that the first story is decidedly the best, so the rest kind of feel like a letdown. But, worth reading!
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Several stories were excellent, but the collection is uneven in quality.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I really liked this collection of short stories. Each one of them has something unique and they're all quite different from one another. A very entertaining read, I just wish it were longer.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Another brilliant collection of short stories from a true master of the craft. I especially enjoyed the story from The Graveyard Book. I find I have very little to say when I really like a book, and I really liked this book. The end.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5As always, Gaiman shines in short stories. I love the twists and turns.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The short stories in this small collection range from the almost scary to funny interpretations of classic nursery rhymes so that most children will find something they enjoy within it. None of the stories are terribly violent but some of them like the one about the troll under the bridge have a sad, darkness to them which would make them more appropriate for a more mature reader. The style of writing and vocabulary makes this book accessible to a middle school reader but due due to some of the themes, care should be taken in who its recommended to. A child who is thinking about doing their own writing would find wonderful inspiration here as Gaiman retells folk tales through various methods, which could act as suggestions for a writer.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I know now why I'd never read this book before - it's because I've read all the component parts in various other books. They're good stories, though, particularly The Price and Chivalry and Sunbird and Troll Bridge, so I don't have anything to complain about.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I've decided that I want to be Neil Gaiman when I grow up.There.End of review.Just kidding! God, I crack myself up... M is for Magic is a collection of Gaiman's short stories packaged for children. At first, some of his choices surprised me (eg. the one about the troll where the protagonist grows up and ends up cheating on his wife), but I respect his choices and am the last person to think coddling our children by not letting them read about A-holes is acceptable, so I was soon on board. (Oh and the guy wasn't really an a-hole, although he did become a troll in the end. He was very sad about his divorce...)Critique:Once again, another rave fest. I loved his introduction to children, telling them they need not like every story in the book. I loved the story about the elderly woman who finds the holy grail in the St. Vincent de Paul and puts it on her mantlepiece. When Galahad comes to fetch it, she drives a hard bargain, fixes him sandwiches and tea , and sends him on his way. The story that started the The Graveyard book is in here, as well as an awesomely hilarious take on a coming of age story about a boy who finally learns to talk to girls at a party and realises too late that the girls are well, not exactly girls... To conclude, I repeat. I want to be Neil Gaiman when I grow up.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This book was recommended to me as a good introduction to Neil Gaiman. It's a collection of short stories, of what I call "light fantasy" (lots of fantasy elements, but not building entirely new worlds). I enjoyed about half of them. I really liked "The Witch's Headstone", which I discovered is part of a larger work, "The Graveyard Book". I'll be getting my hands on "The Graveyard Book" soon.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5My husband and I listened to this as an audio book. The audio book was read by Neil Gaiman himself.As always the stories are wonderfully crafted and Gaiman is able to create worlds that each of the short stories allows you a quick glimpse of. I have always had a bit of a problem with short stories. Mainly my issue is that if the short story is good it usually leaves you wanting more. I am always a bit frustrated with good short stories because they seen to leave me unsatisfied. That being said I love all of Gaiman's works.I was a bit disappointed though that this is not a new collection of short stories but a compilation of previous short stories that is meant to be appropriate for children. Some of the stories I had read previously in Neil Gaiman's "Smoke and Mirrors". I have not yet read "Fragile Things" but I have heard that the remainder of the stories are from that collection.Also the reading of the stories was slightly disappointing. We were listening to this in the car and some parts of the stories, especially the troll bridge one, were whispered so softly by Gaiman that even with the radio cranked to full volume we couldn't hear what he was saying.This book is quality Gaiman work and a great collection to buy for a young adult. If you own "Smoke and Mirrors" and "Fragile Things" and don't have a need for a more young adult focused book I would skip this book because you probably already own most of the stories. Still the stories are great.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Great stories by the master storyteller Gaiman. Some are deep enough that they will require somewhat sophisticated readers to grasp.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Most of these short stories have already been published in Neil Gaiman's other anthologies. The difference is that he is targetting this edition at young adults. Great to have just for the edition and the intro.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Imaginative writing, supposedly for kids 8-12. The first two stories have inappropriate content for that age, some of it sexual. Otherwise, the remaining stories might intrigue that age range. Most of the stories have scary elements or might seem so to that age range. Kids generally like that. I didn't find much magic here, as the title suggests -- mostly the stories were either clever or imaginative and on the dark and confounding side. The author commands respect, but I can't say I liked this collection. Some stories were better than others. Maybe ask a 12-year-old for a different viewpoint.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5A collection of short stories suitable for children of age 10 or older. This is a great selection, i don't think there is a story in here, that is not good. The only negative point is that only three of the stories in here are not already contained in Neils other two short story collections (The three stories are "The Case Of The Four And Twenty Blackbirds" (1984), "How To Sell The Ponti Bridge" (1985) and "The Witch's Headstone" (2007)). Especially the new story (which will be part of the forthcoming "Graveyard Book") is in my opinion absolutely amazing and makes waiting for the new book even harder.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5M is for Magic has a collection of short stories- many of which appear in some of Gaiman's other collections. It's wonderful to read these stories. A cat who fights the devil, a woman who finds the Holy Grail in a second hand shop, how to eat the rare sunbird... and many more. I love how he writes and I enjoyed reading the stories I hadn't read before. He remains a fantastic storyteller. I highly recommend his graphic novels Sandman, and his novel The Graveyard Book.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I've previously read most of the stories in this collection, but they delighted me all the same the second (third, fourth, nth?) time around. The ones new to me are gems as bright as the others. Some of my favorite Gaiman shorts are contained here: Chivalry, The Price, Don't Ask Jack, Instructions. All in all, a truly magical collection!
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Ah Gaiman, your books are like crack to me. Your shorts are no exception
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Good set of short stories. I don't get why a kid would like the Troll under the bridge, but I enjoyed all of them. Gaiman has a great imagination and ability to tell horror in a way that still captivates with wonder.A decent collection that is easy to churn through in small chunks or all together.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I took a few of Gaiman's books with me on holiday and this one was among the pile. I must say that it interested me the least. I've had this problem before with his short stories. I don't know what it is. I just love his longer novels, but his short stories seem to leave me quite cold. But then again I do have problems with short stories more often then not. Perhaps I just need more time to get into the frame of mind of a particular story, than the amount of pages can give me ...
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5In the introduction, Neil Gaiman states that he's always enjoyed short stories, partly because if he didn't like one, he knew that something else would be along shortly. I find that phrase particularly fitting with this collection. I feel that some of the stories were brilliantly crafted, whereas other ones I could have done without. However, on the whole, I enjoyed this collection. And, as they are short stories, I find myself wanting to listen to my favorites again, like a beloved movie. I particularly enjoyed "The Case of the Four and Twenty Blackbirds," "How to Sell the Ponti Bridge," and "The Witch's Headstone." Gaiman has a great imagination which crafts some truly unique and intriguing situations. As I started listening to this book in October, I also appreciated its Halloween-esque qualities.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5There is no summary for this book, as it is a collection of a number of short stories. All I can do is suggest it to people to read, because Gaiman is an excessively gifted author. No, I do not like everything the man writes and sometimes I have issues assimilating all that I read by him, but that does not change his talents. This book includes 'The Witch's Headstone,' which went on to form a chapter for the recent Newbery Award Winner, The Graveyard Book, as well as 'How to Talk to Girls at Parties,' a Hugo Award nominee. This collection is sold in the children's section, but would be an acceptable read for all ages for the right temperment. There is a bit of adventure, a bit of mythology, a bit of mystery and some philosophy scattered throughout, and plenty of fun. The stories included are as follows: 'The Case Of The Four And Twenty Blackbirds' 'Troll Bridge' 'Don't Ask Jack' 'How To Sell The Ponti Bridge' 'October In The Chair' 'Chivalry' 'The Price' 'How to Talk to Girls At Parties' 'Sunbird' 'The Witch's Headstone' 'Instructions' [My personal favorite was undoubtedly 'Sunbird.']
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5personal response: I enjoyed about half of the stories in this collection. From what I understand many of these have been printed elsewhere, but I hadn't read any previous to reading this. A few of the stories, like How to talk to girls at parties, didn't hold my attention enough and I found them to be a dread to get through. Others though were quite enjoyable, such as The case of the Four and Twenty Black birds and Chivalry. A great story is also October in the Chair, attributing human characteristics to each of the months, and creating a cast of characters as diverse as the weather within them.Teen readersCurricular Connections: This would be a great book for a literature class. Gaiman has a very unique writing style that could be compared with others, and the stories themselves offer great opportunities for discussion
Book preview
M Is for Magic - Neil Gaiman
The Case of the Four and Twenty Blackbirds
I SAT IN MY OFFICE, nursing a glass of hooch and idly cleaning my automatic. Outside the rain fell steadily, like it seems to do most of the time in our fair city, whatever the tourist board says. Heck, I didn’t care. I’m not on the tourist board. I’m a private dick, and one of the best, although you wouldn’t have known it; the office was crumbling, the rent was unpaid, and the hooch was my last.
Things are tough all over.
To cap it all the only client I’d had all week never showed up on the street corner where I’d waited for him. He said it was going to be a big job, but now I’d never know: he kept a prior appointment in the morgue.
So when the dame walked into my office I was sure my luck had changed for the better.
What are you selling, lady?
She gave me a look that would have induced heavy breathing in a pumpkin, and which shot my heartbeat up to three figures. She had long blonde hair and a figure that would have made Thomas Aquinas forget his vows. I forgot all mine about never taking cases from dames.
What would you say to some of the green stuff?
she asked in a husky voice, getting straight to the point.
Continue, sister.
I didn’t want her to know how bad I needed the dough, so I held my hand in front of my mouth; it doesn’t help if a client sees you salivate.
She opened her purse and flipped out a photograph. Glossy eight by ten. Do you recognize that man?
In my business you know who people are. Yeah.
He’s dead.
I know that too, sweetheart. It’s old news. It was an accident.
Her gaze went so icy you could have chipped it into cubes and cooled a cocktail with it. My brother’s death was no accident.
I raised an eyebrow—you need a lot of arcane skills in my business—and said, Your brother, eh?
Funny, she hadn’t struck me as the type that had brothers.
I’m Jill Dumpty.
So your brother was Humpty Dumpty?
And he didn’t fall off that wall, Mr. Horner. He was pushed.
Interesting, if true. Dumpty had his finger in most of the crooked pies in town; I could think of five guys who would have preferred to see him dead than alive without trying. Without trying too hard, anyway.
You seen the cops about this?
Nah. The King’s Men aren’t interested in anything to do with his death. They say they did all they could do in trying to put him together again after the fall.
I leaned back in my chair.
So what’s it to you. Why do you need me?
"I want you to find the killer, Mr. Horner. I want him brought to justice. I want him to fry like an egg. Oh—and one other little thing, she added lightly.
Before he died Humpty had a small manila envelope full of photographs he was meant to be sending me. Medical photos. I’m a trainee nurse, and I need them to pass my finals."
I inspected my nails, then looked up at her face, taking in a handful of waist and several curves on the way up. She was a looker, although her cute nose was a little on the shiny side. I’ll take the case. Seventy-five a day and two hundred bonus for results.
She smiled; my stomach twisted around once and went into orbit. You get another two hundred if you get me those photographs. I want to be a nurse real bad.
Then she dropped three fifties on my desktop.
I let a devil-may-care grin play across my rugged face. Say, sister, how about letting me take you out for dinner? I just came into some money.
She gave an involuntary shiver of anticipation and muttered something about having a thing about midgets, so I knew I was onto a good thing. Then she gave me a lopsided smile that would have made Albert Einstein drop a decimal point. "First find my brother’s killer, Mr. Horner. And my photographs. Then we can play."
She closed the door behind her. Maybe it was still raining but I didn’t notice. I didn’t care.
There are parts of town the tourist board doesn’t mention. Parts of town where the police travel in threes if they travel at all. In my line of work you get to visit them more than is healthy. Healthy is never.
He was waiting for me outside Luigi’s. I slid up behind him, my rubber-soled shoes soundless on the shiny wet sidewalk.
Hiya, Cock.
He jumped and spun around; I found myself gazing up into the muzzle of a .45. Oh, Horner.
He put the gun away. Don’t call me Cock. I’m Bernie Robin to you, short-stuff, and don’t you forget it.
Cock Robin is good enough for me, Cock. Who killed Humpty Dumpty?
He was a strange-looking bird, but you can’t be choosy in my profession. He was the best underworld lead I had.
Let’s see the color of your money.
I showed him a fifty.
Hell,
he muttered. It’s green. Why can’t they make puce or mauve money for a change?
He took it though. All I know is that the Fat Man had his finger in a lot of pies.
So?
One of those pies had four and twenty blackbirds in it.
Huh?
Do I hafta spell it out for you? I…ughh—
He crumpled to the sidewalk, an arrow protruding from his back. Cock Robin wasn’t going to be doing any more chirping.
Sergeant O’Grady looked down at the body, then he looked down at me. Faith and begorrah, to be sure,
he said. If it isn’t Little Jack Horner himself.
I didn’t kill Cock Robin, Sarge.
And I suppose that the call we got down at the station telling us you were going to be rubbing the late Mr. Robin out—here, tonight—was just a hoax?
If I’m the killer, where are my arrows?
I thumbed open a pack of gum and started to chew. It’s a frame.
He puffed on his meerschaum and then put it away, and idly played a couple of phrases of the William Tell overture on his oboe. Maybe. Maybe not. But you’re still a suspect. Don’t leave town. And, Horner…
Yeah?
Dumpty’s death was an accident. That’s what the coroner said. That’s what I say. Drop the case.
I thought about it. Then I thought of the money, and the girl. No dice, Sarge.
He shrugged. It’s your funeral.
He said it like it probably would be.
I had a funny feeling he could be right.
You’re out of your depth, Horner. You’re playing with the big boys. And it ain’t healthy.
From what I could remember of my school days he was correct. Whenever I played with the big boys I always wound up having the stuffing beaten out of me. But how did O’Grady—how could O’Grady have known that? Then I remembered something else.
O’Grady was the one that used to beat me up the most.
It was time for what we in the profession call legwork. I made a few discreet inquiries around town, but found out nothing about Dumpty that I didn’t know already.
Humpty Dumpty was a bad egg. I remembered him when he was new in town, a smart young animal trainer with a nice line in training mice to run up clocks. He went to the bad pretty fast though; gambling, drink, women, it’s the same story all over. A bright young kid thinks that the streets of Nurseryland are paved with gold, and by the time he finds out otherwise it’s much too late.
Dumpty started off with extortion and robbery on a small scale—he trained up a team of spiders to scare little girls away from their curds and whey, which he’d pick up and sell on the black market. Then he moved on to blackmail—the nastiest game. We crossed paths once, when I was hired by this young society kid—let’s call him Georgie Porgie—to recover some compromising snaps of him kissing the girls and making them cry. I got the snaps, but I learned it wasn’t healthy to mess with the Fat Man. And I don’t make the same mistakes twice. Hell, in my line of work I can’t afford to make the same mistakes once.
It’s a tough world out there. I remember when Little Bo Peep first came to town…but you don’t want to hear my troubles. If you’re not dead yet, you’ve got troubles of your own.
I checked out the newspaper files on Dumpty’s death. One minute he was sitting on a wall, the next he was in pieces at the bottom. All the King’s Horses and all the King’s Men were on the scene in minutes, but he needed more than first aid. A medic named Foster was called—a friend of Dumpty’s from his Gloucester days—although I don’t know of anything a doc can do when you’re dead.
Hang on a second—Dr. Foster!
I got that old feeling you get in my line of work. Two little brain cells rub together the right way and in seconds you’ve got a twenty-four-karat cerebral fire on your hands.
You remember the client who didn’t show—the one I’d waited for all day on the street corner? An accidental death. I hadn’t bothered to check it out—I can’t afford to waste time on clients who aren’t going to pay for it.
Three deaths, it seemed. Not one.
I reached for the telephone and rang the police station. This is Horner,
I told the desk man. Lemme speak to Sergeant O’Grady.
There was a crackling and he came on the line. O’Grady speaking.
It’s Horner.
Hi, Little Jack.
That was just like O’Grady. He’d been kidding me about my size since we were kids together. You finally figured out that Dumpty’s death was accidental?
Nope. I’m now investigating three deaths. The Fat Man’s, Bernie Robin’s, and Dr. Foster’s.
Foster the plastic surgeon? His death was an accident.
Sure. And your mother was married to your father.
There was a pause. Horner, if you phoned me up just to talk dirty, I’m not amused.
"Okay, wise guy. If Humpty Dumpty’s death was an accident and so was Dr. Foster’s, tell me just one thing.
Who killed Cock Robin?
I don’t ever get accused of having too much imagination, but there’s one thing I’d swear to. I could hear him grinning over the phone as he said: You did, Horner. And I’m staking my badge on it.
The line went dead.
My office was cold and lonely, so I wandered down to Joe’s Bar for some companionship and a drink or three.
Four and twenty blackbirds. A dead doctor. The Fat Man. Cock Robin… Heck, this case had more holes in it than Swiss cheese and more loose ends than a torn string vest. And where did the juicy Miss Dumpty come into it? Jack and Jill—we’d make a great team. When this was all over perhaps we could go off together to Louie’s little place on the hill, where no one’s interested in whether you got a marriage license or not. The Pail of Water, that was the name of the joint.
I called the bartender over. Hey, Joe.
Yeah, Mr. Horner?
He was polishing a glass with a rag that had seen better days as a shirt.
Did you ever meet the Fat Man’s sister?
He scratched at his cheek. Can’t say as I did. His sister…huh? Hey—the Fat Man didn’t have a sister.
You sure of that?
Sure I’m sure. It was the day my sister had her first kid—I told the Fat Man I was an uncle. He gave me this look and says, ‘Ain’t no way I’ll ever be an uncle, Joe. Got no sisters or brothers, nor no other kinfolk neither.’
If the mysterious Miss Dumpty wasn’t his sister, who was she?
Tell me, Joe. Didja ever see him in here with a dame—about so high, shaped like this?
My hands described a couple of parabolas. Looks like a blonde love goddess.
He shook his head. Never saw him with any dames. Recently he was hanging around with some medical guy, but the only thing he ever cared about was those crazy birds and animals of his.
I took a swig of my drink. It nearly took the roof of my mouth off. Animals? I thought he’d given all that up.
"Naw—couple weeks back he was in here with a whole bunch of blackbirds he was training to sing ‘Wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before mmm mmm.’"
"Mmm mmm?"
Yeah. I got no idea who.
I put my drink down. A little of it spilt on the counter, and I watched it strip the paint. Thanks, Joe. You’ve been a big help.
I handed him a ten-dollar bill. For information received,
I said—adding, Don’t spend it all at once.
In my profession it’s making little jokes like that that keeps you sane.
I had one contact left. Ma Hubbard. I found a pay phone and called her number.
Old Mother Hubbard’s Cupboard—Cake Shop and licensed Soup Kitchen.
It’s Horner, Ma.
Jack? It ain’t safe for me to talk to you.
For old time’s sake, sweetheart. You owe me a favor.
Some two-bit crooks had once knocked off the Cupboard, leaving it bare. I’d tracked them down and returned the cakes and soup.
Okay. But I don’t like it.
"You know everything that goes on around here on the food front, Ma. What’s the significance of a pie with four and twenty trained blackbirds in it?"
She whistled long and low. You really don’t know?
I wouldn’t be asking you if I did.
You should read the Court pages of the papers next time, sugar. Jeez. You are out of your depth.
C’mon, Ma. Spill it.
It so happens that that particular dish was set before the King a few weeks back…. Jack? Are you still there?
I’m still here, ma’am,
I said quietly. All of a sudden a lot of things are starting to make sense.
I put down the phone.
It was beginning to look like Little Jack Horner had pulled out a plum