For the first time ever, legendary editor Otto Penzler has handpicked some of the most respected and bestselling thriller writers working today for a riveting collection of spy fiction. From first to last, this stellar collection signals mission accomplished.Including:* Lee Child with an incredible look at the formation of a special ops cell. * James Grady writing about an Arab undercover FBI agent with an active cell.* Joseph Finder riffing on a Boston architect who's convinced his Persian neighbors are up to no good.* John Lawton concocting a Len Deighton-esque story about British intelligence.* Stephen Hunter thrilling us with a tale about a WWII brigade. Full list of Contributors:James Grady, Charles McCarry, Lee Child, Joseph Finder, John Lawton, John Weisman, Stephen Hunter, Gayle Lynds, David Morrell, Andrew Klavan, Robert Wilson, Dan Fesperman, Stella Rimington, Olen Steinhauer

If ever a subject begged to be associated with crime it is gambling, writes Otto Penzler in his introduction to this collection of short stories set at the poker table and beyond. In Walter Mosley's Mister In-Between, a bagman is sent to collect from a rigged poker game, but soon begins to wonder who the real mark is. In One Dollar Jackpot, Michael Connelly's detective Harry Bosch finds himself looking for tells when facing off against a professional poker player in the interrogation room. And a young woman learns how to bluff the hard way in Hardly Knew Her, by Laura Lippman. In these and others stories, aces of the mystery-writing world—including Joyce Carol Oates, Alexander McCall Smith, Jeffery Deaver, John Lescroart, and others—combine to form a winning hand.

"Horrifying ghouls, decaying corpses, body snatchers, grave robbers and flesh-eating monsters. In this gruesome anthology of the living dead, all these and more will try to catch your eye and devour your brain. From the macabre pens of the world's most spine-tingling horror and fantasy writers, the grisliest, goriest, ghastliest stories from the last two centuries have been plucked from the shadows by legendary editor Otto Penzler, to form the most monstrous volume in zombie history. Featuring a cast of world-class writers, including H.P. Lovecraft, Stephen King, Clive Barker, Richard Matheson, Edgar Allan Poe, Joe R. Lansdale, Vivian Meik, Lisa Tuttle, W.B. Seabrook, Karen Haber, Guy De Maupassant, Richard Laymon, Thomas Burke, Anthony Boucher, John Knox, Theodore Sturgeon and Seabury Quinn, this might just be the world's biggest and bloodiest zombie anthology yet."

The greatest detectives of the Golden Age investigate the most puzzling crimes of the eraSometimes, the police aren't the best suited to solve a crime. Depending on the case, you may find that a retired magician, a schoolteacher, a Broadway producer, or a nun have the necessary skills to suss out a killer. Or, in other cases, a blind veteran, or a publisher, or a hard-drinking attorney, or a mostly-sober attorney... or, indeed, any sort of detective you could think of might be able to best the professionals when it comes to comprehending strange and puzzling murders. At least, that's what the authors from the Golden Age of American mystery fiction would have you think. For decades in the middle of the twentieth century, the country's best-selling authors produced delightful tales in which all types of eccentrics used rarified knowledge to interpret confounding clues. And for even longer, in the decades that have followed, these characters have...

This compilation collects the top twenty stories from the first decade (1997–2006) of The Best American Mystery Stories, selected and introduced by Otto Penzler. Contributors include Russell Banks, James Lee Burke, Brendan DuBois, Lou Manfredo, Ed McBain, Joyce Carol Oates, and many others.

In their second explosive adventure, the Four Just Men must sacrifice one of their own Her rise through the ranks of the Red Hundred was swift and inexorable. From scraps of conversation overheard in her father's kitchen, she crafted speeches that brought men to tears. When the time came for bloodshed, she did not hesitate—generals and princes died by her hand. As her beauty grew, so did her influence. Now the Woman of Gratz and the anarchist horde in her thrall are ready to declare war—on London, whose streets and tube stations they want to sow with fear, and on the Four Just Men, the only organization powerful enough to stop them. Of course, Manfred, Gonsalez, and Poiccart—aided in this adventure by the mysterious and wealthy Bernard Courtlander—are still wanted by Scotland Yard for the assassination of the foreign secretary. Recognizing her advantage, the Woman of Gratz pounces—even though it means betraying her ideals, and...

Internationally bestselling author and acclaimed screenwriter Anthony Horowitz, creator of Magpie Murders, together with founder of Mysterious Press, Otto Penzler, selects the very best of the year's crime and mystery tales in this latest collection perfect for crime fiction lovers. Featuring stories from Jeffery Deaver and L. Frank Baum among many others!These twenty tales represent the best of short form crime and mystery fiction from over the past twelve months. With a variety of fiendishly twisty plots, and featuring murder and mischief in evilly evocative settings, this collection is perfect for crime fiction lovers. Also includes a bonus short mystery story from the Golden Age of Crime Fiction, by the fabled L. Frank Baum.Featuring stories by:Ace AtkinsMichael BrackenFleur BradleyShelley CostaDoug CrandellJeffery DeaverJohn FloydNils GilbertsonPeter HayesShells...

Twelve festive crime stories set in New York City's beloved mystery bookstoreThe oldest mystery specialty bookstore in the world, The Mysterious Bookshop, has for most of its forty-five-year history commissioned an original short story as a holiday gift for its customers. Written exclusively for the store and never published elsewhere, the stories were given as a holiday gift to its customers as a thank you for their business, handed out or mailed between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day.The prompt for the story requires three elements: that it be set at Christmastime, that it involve a crime of some kind, or the suspicion of one, and that it be set at least partially in the bookstore. And from these loose structural guidelines, diverse tales took flight. The dozen tales included in this volume are among the finest to be produced in this annual tradition, sure to charm any reader looking for a holiday-themed...

Fourteen impossible crimes from the American masters of the formFor devotees of the Golden Age mystery, the impossible crime story represents the period's purest form: it presents the reader with a baffling scenario (a corpse discovered in a windowless room locked from the inside, perhaps), lays out a set of increasingly confounding clues, and swiftly delivers an ingenious and satisfying solution. During the years between the two world wars, the best writers in the genre strove to outdo one another with unfathomable crime scenes and brilliant explanations, and the puzzling and clever tales they produced in those brief decades remain unmatched to this day.Among the Americans, some of these authors are still household names, inextricably linked to the locked room mysteries they devised: John Dickson Carr, Ellery Queen, Clayton Rawson, Stuart Palmer. Others, associated with different styles of crime fiction, also produced great works—authors...

The biggest, the boldest, the most comprehensive collection of Pulp writing ever assembled. Weighing in at over a thousand pages, containing over forty-seven stories and two novels, this book is big baby, bigger and more powerful than a freight train—a bullet couldn't pass through it. Here are the best stories and every major writer who ever appeared in celebrated Pulps like Black Mask, Dime Detective, Detective Fiction Weekly, and more. These are the classic tales that created the genre and gave birth to hard-hitting detectives who smoke criminals like packs of cigarettes; sultry dames whose looks are as lethal as a dagger to the chest; and gin-soaked hideouts where conversations are just preludes to murder. This is crime fiction at its gritty best. Including: • Three stories by Raymond Chandler, Cornell Woolrich, Erle Stanley Gardner, and Dashiell Hammett.• Complete novels from Carroll John Daly, the man who invented the hard-boiled detective, and Fredrick Nebel, one of the masters of the form. • A never before published Dashiell Hammett story.• Every other major pulp writer of the time, including Paul Cain, Steve Fisher, James M. Cain, Horace McCoy, and many many more of whom you've probably never heard. • Three deadly sections - The Crimefighters, The Villains, and Dames - with three unstoppable introductions by Harlan Coben, Harlan Ellison, and Laura Lippman Featuring:• Plenty of reasons for murder, all of them good.• A kid so smart - he'll die of it.• A soft-hearted loan shark's legman learning - the hard way - never to buy a strange blonde a hamburger.• The uncanny “Moon Man” and his mad-money victims.

Have yourself a crooked little Christmas with The Big Book of Christmas Mysteries. Edgar Award-winning editor Otto Penzler collects sixty of his all-time favorite holiday crime stories--many of which are difficult or nearly impossible to find anywhere else. From classic Victorian tales by Arthur Conan Doyle, Robert Louis Stevenson, and Thomas Hardy, to contemporary stories by Sara Paretsky and Ed McBain, this collection touches on all aspects of the holiday season, and all types of mysteries. They are suspenseful, funny, frightening, and poignant. Included are puzzles by Mary Higgins Clark, Isaac Asimov, and Ngaio Marsh; uncanny tales in the tradition of A Christmas Carol by Peter Lovesey and Max Allan Collins; O. Henry-like stories by Stanley Ellin and Joseph Shearing, stories by pulp icons John D. MacDonald and Damon Runyon; comic gems from Donald E. Westlake and John Mortimer; and many, many more. Almost any kind of mystery you’re in the mood for--suspense, pure detection, humor, cozy, private eye, or police procedural—can be found in these pages. FEATURING:-        Unscrupulous Santas-        Crimes of Christmases Past and Present-        Festive felonies-        Deadly puddings-        Misdemeanors under the mistletoe-        Christmas cases for classic characters including Sherlock Holmes, Brother Cadfael, Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot, Ellery Queen, Rumpole of the Bailey, Inspector Morse, Inspector Ghote, A.J. Raffles, and Nero Wolfe.About the AuthorOtto Penzler is the editor of eleven other Vintage Crime/Black Lizard anthologies, including The Big Book of Pulps, The Big Book of Black Mask Stories, and, most recently, The Big Book of Ghost Stories. He lives in New York City. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding Agatha Christie It seems fitting, somehow, that the “Mistress of Mystery,” the “Queen of Crime,” set numerous stories in the cozy world of Christmas. The great talent that Dame Agatha brought to her detective stories was the element of surprise, and what could be more surprising than killing someone at what is meant to be the most peaceful, love-­filled time of the year? This splendid story was such a favorite of the author that she used it as the title story of her collection The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding and a Selection of Entrées (London, Collins, 1960). The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding Agatha Christie I “I regret exceedingly——” said M. Hercule Poirot. He was interrupted. Not rudely interrupted. The interruption was suave, dexterous, persuasive rather than contradictory. “Please don’t refuse offhand, M. Poirot. There are grave issues of State. Your co-­operation will be appreciated in the highest quarters.” “You are too kind,” Hercule Poirot waved a hand, “but I ­really cannot undertake to do as you ask. At this season of the year——” Again Mr. Jesmond interrupted. “Christmas time,” he said, persuasively. “An old-­fashioned Christmas in the ­En­glish countryside.” Hercule Poirot shivered. The thought of the ­En­glish countryside at this season of the year did not attract him. “A good old-­fashioned Christmas!” Mr. Jesmond stressed it. “Me—I am not an ­En­glishman,” said Hercule Poirot. “In my country, Christmas, it is for the children. The New Year, that is what we celebrate.” “Ah,” said Mr. Jesmond, “but Christmas in ­En­gland is a great institution and I assure you at Kings Lacey you would see it at its best. It’s a wonderful old house, you know. Why, one wing of it dates from the fourteenth century.” Again Poirot shivered. The thought of a fourteenth-­century ­En­glish manor house filled him with apprehension. He had suffered too often in the historic country houses of ­En­gland. He looked round appreciatively at his comfortable modern flat with its radiators and the latest patent devices for excluding any kind of draught. “In the winter,” he said firmly, “I do not leave London.” “I don’t think you quite appreciate, M. Poirot, what a very serious matter this is.” Mr. Jesmond glanced at his companion and then back at Poirot. Poirot’s second visitor had up to now said nothing but a polite and formal “How do you do.” He sat now, gazing down at his well-­polished shoes, with an air of the utmost dejection on his coffee-­coloured face. He was a young man, not more than twenty-­three, and he was clearly in a state of complete misery. “Yes, yes,” said Hercule Poirot. “Of course the matter is serious. I do appreciate that. His Highness has my heartfelt sympathy.” “The position is one of the utmost delicacy,” said Mr. Jesmond. Poirot transferred his gaze from the young man to his older companion. If one wanted to sum up Mr. Jesmond in a word, the word would have been discretion. Everything about Mr. Jesmond was discreet. His well-­cut but inconspicuous clothes, his pleasant, well-­bred voice which rarely soared out of an agreeable monotone, his light-­brown hair just thinning a little at the temples, his pale serious face. It seemed to Hercule Poirot that he had known not one Mr. Jesmond but a dozen Mr. Jesmonds in his time, all using sooner or later the same phrase—“a position of the utmost delicacy.” “The police,” said Hercule Poirot, “can be very discreet, you know.” Mr. Jesmond shook his head firmly. “Not the police,” he said. “To recover the—er—what we want to recover will almost inevitably involve taking proceedings in the law courts and we know so little. We suspect, but we do not know.” “You have my sympathy,” said Hercule Poirot again. If he imagined that his sympathy was going to mean anything to his two visitors, he was wrong. They did not want sympathy, they wanted practical help. Mr. Jesmond began once more to talk about the delights of an ­En­glish Christmas. “It’s dying out, you know,” he said, “the real old-­fashioned type of Christmas. People spend it at hotels nowadays. But an ­En­glish Christmas with all the family gathered round, the children and their stockings, the Christmas tree, the turkey and plum pudding, the crackers. The snow-­man outside the window——” In the interests of exactitude, Hercule Poirot intervened. “To make a snow-­man one has to have the snow,” he remarked severely. “And one cannot have snow to order, even for an ­En­glish Christmas.” “I was talking to a friend of mine in the meteorological office only today,” said Mr. Jesmond, “and he tells me that it is highly probable there will be snow this Christmas.” It was the wrong thing to have said. Hercule Poirot shuddered more forcefully than ever. “Snow in the country!” he said. “That would be still more abominable. A large, cold, stone manor house.” “Not at all,” said Mr. Jesmond. “Things have changed very much in the last ten years or so. Oil-­fired central heating.” “They have oil-­fired central heating at Kings Lacey?” asked Poirot. For the first time he seemed to waver. Mr. Jesmond seized his opportunity. “Yes, indeed,” he said, “and a splendid hot water system. Radiators in every bedroom. I assure you, my dear M. Poirot, Kings Lacey is comfort itself in the winter time. You might even find the house too warm.” “That is most unlikely,” said Hercule Poirot. With practised dexterity Mr. Jesmond shifted his ground a little. “You can appreciate the terrible dilemma we are in,” he said, in a confidential manner. Hercule Poirot nodded. The problem was, indeed, not a happy one. A young potentate-­to-­be, the only son of the ruler of a rich and important native state, had arrived in London a few weeks ago. His country had been passing through a period of restlessness and discontent. Though loyal to the father whose way of life had remained persistently Eastern, popular opinion was somewhat dubious of the younger generation. His follies had been Western ones and as such looked upon with disapproval. Recently, however, his betrothal had been announced. He was to marry a cousin of the same blood, a young woman who, though educated at Cambridge, was careful to display no Western influences in her own country. The wedding day was announced and the young prince had made a journey to ­En­gland, bringing with him some of the famous jewels of his house to be reset in appropriate modern settings by Cartier. These had included a very famous ruby which had been removed from its cumbersome old-­fashioned necklace and had been given a new look by the famous jewellers. So far so good, but after this came the snag. It was not to be supposed that a young man possessed of much wealth and convivial tastes should not commit a few follies of the pleasanter type. As to that there would have been no censure. Young princes were supposed to amuse themselves in this fashion. For the prince to take the girlfriend of the moment for a walk down Bond Street and bestow upon her an emerald bracelet or a diamond clip as a reward for the pleasure she had afforded him would have been regarded as quite natural and suitable, corresponding in fact to the Cadillac cars which his father invariably presented to his favourite dancing girl of the moment. But the prince had been far more indiscreet than that. Flattered by the lady’s interest, he had displayed to her the famous ruby in its new setting, and had finally been so unwise as to accede to her request to be allowed to wear it—just for one evening! The sequel was short and sad. The lady had retired from their supper-­table to powder her nose. Time passed. She did not return. She had left the establishment by another door and since then had disappeared into space. The important and distressing thing was that the ruby in its new setting had disappeared with her. These were the facts that could not possibly be made public without the most dire consequences. The ruby was something more than a ruby, it was a historical possession of great significance, and the circumstances of its disappearance were such that any undue publicity about them might result in the most serious political consequences. Mr. Jesmond was not the man to put these facts into simple language. He wrapped them up, as it were, in a great deal of verbiage. Who exactly Mr. Jesmond was, Hercule Poirot did not know. He had met other Mr. Jesmonds in the course of his career. Whether he was connected with the Home Office, the Foreign Office, or some more discreet branch of public service was not specified. He was acting in the interests of the Commonwealth. The ruby must be recovered. M. Poirot, so Mr. Jesmond delicately insisted, was the man to recover it. “Perhaps—yes,” Hercule Poirot admitted, “but you can tell me so little. Suggestion— suspicion—all that is not very much to go upon.” “Come now, M. Poirot, surely it is not beyond your powers. Ah, come now.” “I do not always succeed.” But this was mock modesty. It was clear enough from Poirot’s tone that for him to undertake a missi...