: Knock three-one-two by Brown Fredric - Detective and mystery stories; Gamblers Fiction; Man-woman relationships Fiction; Spouses Fiction; Thrillers (Fiction); Serial murderers Fiction

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KNOCK THREE-ONE-TWO

E. P. DUTTON & CO., INC. New York

FIRST EDITION

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 59-10773

THE DEAD RINGER COMPLIMENTS OF A FIEND HERE COMES A CANDLE MURDER CAN BE FUN THE BLOODY MOONLIGHT THE FABULOUS CLIPJOINT THE SCREAMING MIMI NIGHT OF THE JABBERWOCK DEATH HAS MANY DOORS THE FAR CRY WE ALL KILLED GRANDMA THE DEEP END MOSTLY MURDER HIS NAME WAS DEATH WHAT MAD UNIVERSE THE LIGHTS IN THE SKY ARE STARS ANGELS AND SPACESHIPS THE WENCH IS DEAD MARTIANS, GO HOME THE LENIENT BEAST ROGUE IN SPACE THE OFFICE ONE FOR THE ROAD THE LATE LAMENTED KNOCK THREE-ONE-TWO

KNOCK THREE-ONE-TWO

That's what the newspapers and everyone who read them called him now, since his second murder two months ago. At first he'd been called by various designations: insane rapist-killer, homicidal maniac, sexual psychopath, and others. For convenience, for shorthand, it had boiled down to the psycho. The police called him that too, although they had been moving heaven and earth to find a better name for him, a name like Peter Jones or Robert Smith, a name that would let them find and apprehend him before he killed again. And again.

And now tonight the Need was on him again. The need to rape and kill a woman.

He stood in the hallway of an apartment building, before a door. Nervous tension was making him flex and unflex his hands--his tremendously strong, strangler's hands that had already killed twice and, if everything went well, were about to kill again. He forced himself to hold them still. Not that it mattered here and now, with no one watching him, but it was a habit that had been growing on him and one that he had to break, lest he forget sometime and do it when people were watching him and make them wonder about him, about why he did it. And maybe go on wondering from there; in this city right now just about everybody was watching his neighbor suspiciously, watching for just such little signs as that.

He took a deep breath and then raised a hand and knocked on the door. A light, almost diffident knock, not a peremptory one.

He heard the click of high heels coming to the door. And her voice called out, "Yes? Who is it?"

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