Murder in the Gunroom

H. Beam Piper
Murder in the Gunroom

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Title: Murder in the Gunroom
Author: Henry Beam Piper
Release Date: February 26, 2006 [EBook #17866]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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MURDER IN THE GUNROOM
By H. BEAM PIPER

NEW YORK Alfred A. Knopf 1953 FIRST EDITION

TO Colonel Henry W. Shoemaker an old and valued friend, who was promised this
dedication, with an entirely different novel in mind, twenty-two years ago.

PREFACE
_The Lane Fleming collection of early pistols and revolvers was one of the best in the

country. When Fleming was found dead on the floor of his locked gunroom, a
Confederate-made Colt-type percussion .36 revolver in his hand, the coroner's verdict
was "death by accident." But Gladys Fleming had her doubts. Enough at any rate to
engage Colonel Jefferson Davis Rand--better known just as Jeff--private detective and a
pistol-collector himself, to catalogue, appraise, and negotiate the sale of her late
husband's collection.
There were a number of people who had wanted the collection. The question was: had
anyone wanted it badly enough to kill Fleming? And if so, how had he done it? Here is a
mystery, told against the fascinating background of old guns and gun-collecting, which is
rapid-fire without being hysterical, exciting without losing its contact with reason, and
which introduces a personable and intelligent new private detective. It is a story that will
keep your nerves on a hair trigger even if you don't know the difference between a cased
pair of Paterson .34's and a Texas .40 with a ramming-lever._

CHAPTER 1
It was hard to judge Jeff Rand's age from his appearance; he was certainly over thirty and
considerably under fifty. He looked hard and fit, like a man who could be a serviceable
friend or a particularly unpleasant enemy. Women instinctively suspected that he would
make a most satisfying lover. One might have taken him for a successful lawyer (he had
studied law, years ago), or a military officer in mufti (he still had a Reserve colonelcy,
and used the title occasionally, to impress people who he thought needed impressing), or
a prosperous businessman, as he usually thought of himself. Most of all, he looked like
King Charles II of England anachronistically clad in a Brooks Brothers suit.
At the moment, he was looking rather like King Charles II being bothered by one of his
mistresses who wanted a peerage for her husband.
"But, Mrs. Fleming," he was expostulating. "There surely must be somebody else.... After
all, you'll have to admit that this isn't the sort of work this agency handles."
The would-be client released a series of smoke-rings and watched them float up toward
the air-outlet at the office ceiling. It spoke well for Rand's ability to subordinate esthetic
to business considerations that he was trying to give her a courteous and humane
brush-off. She made even the Petty and Varga girls seem credible. Her color-scheme was
blue and gold; blue eyes, and a blue tailored outfit that would have looked severe on a
less curvate figure, and a charmingly absurd little blue hat perched on a mass of golden
hair. If Rand had been Charles II, she could have walked out of there with a duchess's
coronet, and Nell Gwyn would have been back selling oranges.
"Why isn't it?" she countered. "Your door's marked _Tri-State Detective Agency,
Jefferson Davis Rand, Investigation and Protection_. Well, I want to know how much the
collection's worth, and who'll pay the closest to it. That's investigation, isn't it? And I
want protection from being swindled. And don't tell me you can't do it. You're a

pistol-collector, yourself; you have one of the best small collections in the state. And
you're a recognized authority on early pistols; I've read some of your articles in the
Rifleman. If you can't handle this, I don't know who can."
Rand's frown deepened. He wondered how much Gladys Fleming knew about the
principles of General Semantics. Even if she didn't know anything, she was still edging
him into an untenable position. He hastily shifted from the attempt to identify his
business with the label, "private detective agency."
"Well, here, Mrs. Fleming," he explained. "My business, including armed-guard and
protected-delivery service, and general investigation and protection work, requires some
personal supervision, but none of it demands
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