No Strings Attached - Lester del Rey

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
No strings attached by Lester Delray. Poor Henry was an
unhappy husband whose wife had a habit of using bad cliches.
Affleer was a genie who was, quite like most humans,
a creature of habit. Their murdered compact was absolutely perfect

(00:24):
with no strings attached. Committing a perfect murder is a
simple matter. Drive out some night to a lonely road,
find a single person walking along out of sight of
any one else, offer him a ride, knife him, and
go home. In such a crime, there is no reason

(00:45):
to connect killer and victim, no motive, no clue, no suspect.
To achieve The perfect murder of a man's own wife, however,
is a different matter for obvious reasons. Husbands are always
high on the suspect who has a better reason for
such a crime. Henry Ainsworth had been pondering the problem

(01:06):
with more than academic interest for some time. It wasn't
that he hated his wife. He simply couldn't stand the
sight or sound of her. Even thinking about her made
his flesh crawl. If she had been willing to give
him a divorce, he'd have been content to wish her
all the happiness she was capable of discovering. But Emma

(01:27):
unfortunately was fond of being his wife. Perhaps she was
even fond of him. Worse, she was too rigidly bound
to trite morality to give him grounds to sue. There
was no hope of her straying. What had been good
enough for her mother was good enough for her and
saved all need of thinking a woman needed a husband.

(01:49):
Her place was in the home, marriage was forever, and
what would the neighbors think. Anyhow, She'd have had difficulty
being unfaithful even if she tried. She'd been gaining some
ten pounds every year for the eleven years they had
been married, and she'd long since stopped worrying about taking
care of her appearance. He looked up at her, now

(02:11):
letting the book drop to his lap. She sat watching
the television screen with a vacant look on her face
while some comic went through a tired routine. If she
enjoyed it, there was no sign, though she spent half
her life in front of the screen. Then the comic
went off and dancers came on. She went back to

(02:32):
darning a pair of his socks as seriously as if
she didn't know that he had always refused to wear
the lumpy results. Her stockings had runs, and she still
wore the faded apron in which she'd cooked supper. He
contrasted her with Shirley unconsciously and shuddered. In the years
since Shirley Bates had come to work in his rare

(02:54):
book store, he'd done a lot of such shuddering, and
never because of the slim, blonde warmth of Visitstent since
that hot day in August when they'd closed the shop early,
as he'd suggested a ride in the country to cool off.
He and surely he was interrupted in his more pleasant
thoughts by the crash of scissors on to the floor,

(03:15):
and his eyes focused on the deepening folds of fat
as Emma bent to retrieve them. Company coming, she said,
before he could think of anything to prevent the mistaken cliche.
Then she became aware that he was staring at her.
Did you take the garbage out, Henry, Yes, dear, he

(03:36):
answered woodenly. Then, because he knew it was coming anyhow,
he filled in the inevitable cleanliness is next to godliness.
She nodded solemnly and began putting aside her darning. That's finished, Mamma,
always said, as stitchin time saves nine if you'd cut
your toe nails, Henry. He could feel his skin begin

(03:58):
to tingle with the irritation, but there was no escape.
If he went upstairs to his bedroom, she'd be up
at once, pottering about. If he went to the basement,
she'd find the canned food needed checking. A woman's place
was with her husband, as she'd repeatedly told him. Probably
she couldn't stand her own company either. Then he remembered

(04:20):
something he'd stored away. There's a new picture at the metro,
he said, as quietly as he could. Tailor's start. I
think I was going to take you before the sextra
work came up. He could see her take the bait
and nibble at it. She had some vague crush left
for Tailor. She stared at the television set, shifted her bulk,

(04:41):
and then shook her head reluctantly. It'd be nice, Henry,
but going at night costs so much, and well, a
penny saved as a penny earned, exactly, That's what I
meant to say. He even relaxed enough to overlook the platitude,
now that there was some hope. I he saved the
price of lunch today. The nut who wanted King in

(05:03):
Yellow was so tickled to get the copy. Finally, he
insisted on treating. You can even take a cab home afterwards.
That's nice. It'll probably rain, the way my bunion's been aching.
She considered it a second more before cutting off the television.
He watched as she drew off the apron and went
for her coat and hat, making a pretense of dabbing

(05:26):
on makeup. She might as well have worn the apron,
he decided, as she came over to kiss him a
damp goodbye. He considered calling Shirley, but her mother was
visiting her and the conversation would have to be too
guarded at her end. If he could find some way
of getting rid of Emma, it wouldn't even be murder, really,

(05:50):
more like destroying a vegetable, certainly no worse than ending
the life of a dumb cow to make man's life
more worth living. It wasn't as if she had anything
to live for or to contribute. It would almost be
a kindness, since she lived in a perpetual state of
vague discontent and unhappiness, as if somehow she was aware

(06:12):
that she had lost herself, but unfortunately the law wouldn't
look at it in such a light. He'd only been
thinking actively of getting her out of the way since August, however,
and somehow, with time there must be some fool proof scheme.
There was that alcohol injection system, but it required someone

(06:33):
who would drink pretty freely first, and Emmo was a teetotaler. Maybe, though,
if he could get her to take some of those
tonics for women. He dropped it for the moment and
turned back to the book. It was an odd old
volume he'd received with a shipment for appraisal. There was
no title or date, but the strange letter binding showed

(06:56):
it was old. Apparently it had been handset and printed
on some tiny press by the writer, whose name was omitted.
It seemed to be a mixture of instructions on how
to work spells, conjured demons, and practice witchcraft, along with
bitter tie rades against the group who had driven the
writer out and forced him, as he put it, to

(07:16):
enter a compact with the devil for to be a wizard,
which is like a male witch. Henry had been reading
it idly, slowly deciding the book was authentic enough. However,
crazy the writer was the book had no particular value
as a collector's item, but he could probably get a
fine price from some of the local cultists, particularly since

(07:40):
there were constant promises in it that the writer was
going to give a sure fire, positive and simple recipe
for conjuring up a demon without need of virgin blood,
graveyard earth, or unicorn horn. He skimmed through it looking
for the formula. It turned up on the fifth page
from the end, and was everything the writer had claimed,

(08:01):
a five sided figure drawn on the floor with ordinary
candle wax, a pinch of sugar inside, a bit of
something bitter outside, two odd but simple finger gestures, and
a string of words in bad Latin and worse Greek.
There was a warning that it would work without the pentagram,
sugar and bitters, but at parlous risk to the conjurer.

(08:23):
Without such protection, he frowned. Too simple for the cultists,
he realized, unless he could somehow persuade them that the
trick lay in some exact phrasing or gesturing pattern which
took experiment. They liked things made difficult, so they'd have
a good alibi for their faith when the tricks failed.

(08:44):
If he could show them in advance that it didn't work,
but hint that a good occultist might figure out the
right rhythm or whatever. He read it through again, trying
to memorize the whole thing. The gestures were so and
the words hmm. There was no flash of fire, no
smell of sulfur, and no clap of thunder. There was

(09:07):
simply a tall creature with yellowish skin and flashing yellow
eyes standing in front of the television set. His head
was completely hairless, and he was so tall that he
had to duck slightly to keep from crashing into the ceiling.
His features were too sharp for any human face. There
were no scales, however, His gold cape and black tights

(09:28):
were spangled, and he wore green shoes with turned up toes.
But generally he wasn't bad looking. Mind if I sit down,
the creature asked. He took Henry's assent for granted, and
dropped into Emma's chair, folding his cape over one arm
and reaching for an apple on the side table. Glad
to see you're not superstitious enough to keep me locked

(09:51):
up in one of those damned pentagrams. Drat it, I
thought the last copy of that book was burned, and
I was free. Your signal caught me in in the
middle of dinner. Henry swallowed thickly, feeling the sweat trickled
down his nose. The book had warned against summoning the
demon without the protective devices, but the thing seemed peaceful

(10:12):
enough for the moment. He cleared his voice. You mean,
you mean magic works. Magic's magic, The creature snorted. He
jerked his thumb toward the television to Old Ephraim, the
crackpot who wrote the book before he went completely crazy.
That set would have been more magic than I am.

(10:35):
I thought this age knew about dimensions, planes of vibrations,
and simultaneous universes. You humans always were a backward race,
but you seem to be learning the basic facts. Hell,
I suppose that means you'll lay a gias on me
after I was hoping it was just an experimental summons.
Henry puzzled it over with some of the fright, leaving

(10:57):
him the scientific sounding term somehow took some of the
magic off the appearance of the thing. You mean those
passes and words set up some sort of vibrational pattern.
The hairless fellow snorted again and began attacking the grapes.
Bunk Henry. Oh, my name's Aflear. By the way, I mean,

(11:19):
I was a fool. I should have gone to my
psychiatrist and taken the fifty year course as he advised,
But I thought the books were all burned and nobody
knew the summons. So here I am stuck with the
habit because that's all it is, a conditioned reflex, pure
compulsory behavior. I'm sensitized to receive the summons, and when
it comes, I teleport into your plane, just the way

(11:41):
you pull your hand off a hot stove. You read
the whole book, I suppose, Yeah, just my look. Then
you know I'm stuck with any job you give me,
practically your slave. I can't even get back without dismissal
or finishing your task. That's what comes of saving money
by not going to my psych hiatrist, he muttered, unhappily,

(12:03):
reaching for more grapes. While Henry began to decide nothing
was going to happen to him, at least physically. Souls
were things he wasn't quite sure of, but he couldn't
see how just talking to Afflear could endanger his Still,
the creature said thoughtfully, it could be worse. No pentagram,
I never did get mixed up with some of the

(12:24):
foul odors and messes some of my friends had to take.
And I've developed quite a taste for sugar tobacco too.
He reached out and plucked a cigarette out of Henry's back,
then a book of matches. He lighted it, inhaled, and
rubbed the flame out on his other palm. Kind Of
weak tobacco, but not bad any more questions while I

(12:45):
smoke this. There's no free oxygen where I come from,
so I can't smoke there. But if you demons answer
such summons, why don't people know about you? Henry asked,
I'd think more and more people would be going in
for this sort of thing if the wizards were right
all along. They weren't, and we're not demons. It didn't

(13:08):
get started until your middle ages, and if it hadn't
been for old Apalon. Affleer lighted another cigarette off the butt,
which he proceeded to extinguish on the tip of his
sharp tongue. He scratched his head thoughtfully and then went on,
Apleon was studying your worship, you see, We've been studying
your race the way you study white rats using lower

(13:31):
races to explain our own behavior. Anyhow, he got curious
and figured out a way to mentalize himself into your plane.
He was sort of a practical joker, you might say,
so he picked a time when some half crazy witch
was trying to call up the being you worship as
Satan to make some kind of a deal. Just as
she finished, he popped up in front of her, spitting

(13:53):
out a bunch of phosphorus to make a nice smoke
and fire effect, and agreed with all her mumbo jumbo
about having to do what she wanted. She wanted her
heart fixed up then, so he showed her how to
use belladonna and went back, figuring it was a fine joke.
Only he made a mistake. There's something about moving between
planes that lowers the resistance to conditioning. Some of our

(14:16):
people can take five or six trips, but Apalon was
one of those who was so conditioning prone that he
had the habit fixed after the first trip. The next
time she did the rigmarole back, he popped. He had
to dig up gold for her, hypnotize a local baron
into marrying her, and generally keep on the constant key
vive until she got sloppy and forgot the pentagram she

(14:38):
thought protected her and which he was conditioned to. But
after he disintegrated her, he found she'd passed on the
word to a couple of other witches, and he knew
somebody at the institute was bound to find what a
fool he'd made of himself. So he began taking members
aside and telling them about the trick of getting into
your world excellent chance for study. Have to humor the

(15:01):
humans by sticking to their superstitions. Of course, one by
one they went over on little trips. It wasn't hard
to find some superstitious adult trying to summon something. Since
word had got around in your world, one of us
would pop up, and that spread the word further. Anyhow,
when Apalon was sure each member had made enough trips

(15:22):
to be conditioned, he'd tell them the sad truth and
swear him to secrecy on penalty of being laughed out
of the institute. The old Blaggard wound up with all
of us conditioned. There was quite a flurry of witchcraft
here until we finally found a psychiatrist who could break
the habit for us. Even then, it was tough going.

(15:42):
We'd never have made it without the inquisitions in witch burnings.
One of our experimental sociologists managed to stir up Afleer,
put out the third cigarette butt and stood up slowly. Look,
I don't mind a chat now and then, but my
wives are waiting dinner. How about dismissing me? Henry had

(16:03):
been thinking while he listened. It had sounded like a
reasonable explanation on the whole, except for the bit about
appleons disintegrating the witch. Apparently, as long as a man
wasn't too unreasonable, there was a certain usefulness to having
such friends on call. What about the price for your help?
I mean, well about souls, Afleir twitched his ears disgustedly.

(16:28):
What the deuce would I do with your soul? Henry?
Eat it, wear it, don't be a schnook. Well then, well,
I've heard about wishes that were granted, but they all
had a trick attached. If I asked for immortality, you'd
give it, say, but then I'd get some horrible disease
and beg and plead for death, or ask for money,

(16:50):
and then find the money was recorded as being paid
to a kidnapper or something. In the first place. I
couldn't give you immortality, said as patiently as he apparently could.
Your metabolism's not like ours in the second place, Why
should I look for tainted money? It's enough nuisance doing
what you ask without looking for tricks to pull Anyhow,

(17:13):
I told you, I half enjoy visiting here, as long
as you're reasonable about it. I don't mind keeping my
end of the compulsion going. If you've got something to ask,
ask away. There are no strings attached. The creatures seemed
to be quite sincere. Henry considered it briefly, staring at
a large tinted picture of Emma, and took the plunge.

(17:36):
Suppose I asked you to kill my wife for me, say,
by what looked like a stroke, so nobody would blame me.
That seems reasonable enough, Aflear agreed easily. I could break
a few blood vessels inside her skull. Sure, why not?
Only the picture in your mind is so distorted. I

(17:56):
wouldn't know her if she's like that? Why'd you ever
because she seemed different from other women, I guess, Henry admitted.
When I tipped the canoe over, and I figured she'd
be mad because her dress was ruined. All she said
was something about not being sugar so she wouldn't melt.
He shuddered, remembering all the time she'd said it, since

(18:20):
you won't have any trouble. Look, can you really read
my mind naturally? But it's all disorganized. Well, it gave
him a queasy feeling to think of anyone seeing his
secret thoughts. But this fellow apparently didn't work by human
attitudes anyhow. He groped about, and then smiled grimly. All right,

(18:43):
then you can tell I think of her as my wife,
and just to make sure, she'll be sure to say
something about early to bed and early to rise. She
says that every single damned night, Aflear, she never misses.
Afleer grunted sounds more reasonable. Minute, Henry, All right, when
your wife says that I pop out and give her

(19:04):
a stroke that will kill her, how about dismissing me now?
No strings, Henry asked. He watched carefully as Aflear nodded assent,
and he could see no sign of cunning or trickery.
He caught his breath, nodded, and closed his eyes, seeing
something vanish. Was nothing he wanted dismissed. The fruit was

(19:27):
still gone when he opened his eyes, but there was
no other sign of the thing. He found some fruit
still in the refrigerator and restocked the bowl. Then he
closed the strange book and put it away. He'd have
to buy it himself and burn it to make sure
no one else found the trick. Of course, for a moment,
uneasiness pricked at him, Yet he was sure Aflear hadn't

(19:50):
been lying, and the story the creature had told made
more sense than the older superstitions. Henry adjusted his mind
to having a well conditioned demon on tap and then
and began the harder job of bracing himself for Emma's
incoherent but detailed account of the movie when she came back. Unfortunately,
it was a more complicated plot than usual, and she

(20:13):
went on and on from the moment she entered the door.
He tried to close his ears, but he'd never succeeded
in that. He yawned, and she yawned back, but went
on until the last final morsel was covered for the
second or third time. He was wonderful, she finally concluded,

(20:34):
just wonderful. Only I wished you'd come with me. You'd
have liked it, Henry. Did you take the garbage out? Yes? Dear,
he answered, hours ago. He yawned elaborately again. She mumbled
something about having to keep the kitchen clean, because cleanliness
was next to godliness, but her automatic yawn muffled the words.

(20:56):
Then she glanced at the clock. Heavens almost one and
early to bed and early to rise. Henry jerked his
eyes away just as he caught the first glimpse of
Aflir popping into existence. Beside her, he heard the beginning
of a shriek, changed to a horrible gargling, and then
become a dying moan. Something soft and heavy hit the

(21:18):
floor with a dull thud. Henry turned around slowly. Dead
Afleir said, calmly, rubbing one of his fingers. This business
of getting just one finger through the planes into her
head cuts off the circulation. There, that's better, satisfied. Henry
dropped beside the corpse. She was dead according to the

(21:40):
mirror test, and there wasn't a mark on her. He
stared at the puffy, relaxed features. He'd expected an expression
of horror, but she seemed simply asleep. His initial feeling
of pity and contrition vanished. After all, it had been
quick and nearly painless. Now he was free, Thanks Afleir,

(22:01):
he said, it's fine, fine, do I dismiss you now?
No need this time. I'm free as soon as the
job's done. Unless you'd like to talk awhile, Henry shook
his head slowly. He had to telephone a doctor. Then
he would call Shirley. Her mother would be gone by now.
Not now. Maybe I'll summon you sometime for a smoke

(22:22):
or something, but not now, okay, Affleir said and vanished. Surprisingly,
seeing him disappear wasn't unpleasant, after all, he just wasn't
there waiting for the doctor was the worst part of it.
All the legends Henry knew ran through his mind. Afleir
could have given her a stroke and then added some

(22:44):
violent poison that would show up in an autopsy. He
could be sitting wherever he was chuckling because Henry hadn't
restricted his wish enough to be safe, or any of
a hundred things could happen. There was the first witch
who had thought she had apleon under control, only to
be turned to dust. But the doctor took it calmly enough.

(23:04):
Stroke all right, he decided. I warned her last year
that she was putting on too much weight and getting
high blood pressure too bad, mister Ainsworth, But there was
nothing you could do. I'll turn in a certificate. Want
me to contact a mortician for you, Henry nodded, trying
to appear properly grief stricken. I'd I'd appreciate it too

(23:27):
late now, the doctor said, but I'll be glad to
send mister Glazier around in the morning. He pulled the
sheet up over Emma's body, leaving it on the back
room couch to which they had carried it. You'd better
go to a hotel for the night, and I'll give
you something that will make you sleep. I'd rather not,
Henry said quickly. I mean I'd feel better here, cannew certainly. Certainly.

(23:52):
The doctor nodded sympathetically, but as if it were an
old story to him. He left the pills with instructions
the proper things again, and finally went out. Shirley's voice
was sleepy and cross when she answered, but it grew
alert as soon as he told her about Emma's stroke.
He was almost beginning to believe the simple version of

(24:13):
the story himself. Poor Henry, she murmured, her voice sharpened again.
It was a stroke. The doctor was sure positive, he
assured her, cursing himself for having let her guess some
of the thoughts that had been on his mind. The
doctor said she'd had hypertension and such before. She considered

(24:36):
it a second, and then a faint laugh sounded. Then
I guess there's no use in crying over spilled milk,
is there, Henry? If it had to happen, it just
had to. And I mean it's like fate almost it
is fate, he agreed happily. Then he dropped his voice.
And now I'm all alone here, baby Lamb, and I

(24:57):
had to call you up. She caught on at once,
as she always did. You can't stay there now, it's
so morbid, Henry. You come right over here. Demons, Henry thought,
as he drove the car through the quiet residential streets
toward her apartment had their uses. They were a much

(25:17):
maligned breed. Probably the people who had summoned them before
had been ignorant, stupid people. They messed up their chances
and brought trouble on themselves by not finding out the
facts and putting it all down to superstitious magic. The
Fellows were almost people, maybe even a little superior to humans.
If a man would just try to understand them, they

(25:38):
could help him, and with no danger at all, no
strings attached, he said to himself, and then chuckled softly.
It fitted perfectly. Now there were no strings attached to him.
Emma was at peace, and he was free. He'd have
to wait a few months to marry Shirley legally, of course,

(25:58):
but already she was as good as his wife, and
if he played up the shock angle just enough, this
could be a wonderful evening again. Shirley was unusually lovely
when she met him at the door. Her soft golden
hair made a halo for her face, a face that
said she'd already anticipated his ideas and had decided he
was a man who needed sympathy and understanding for what

(26:21):
had happened. There was even time for the idea that
he was free to be brought up tentatively at first,
and then eventually as a matter of course, and the
plans expanded as he considered them. There was no need
to worry about things now. The quiet marriage became a
trip around the world. As he confessed to having money

(26:41):
that no one knew about. They could close the shop,
He could leave town almost at once, and she could
follow later. Nobody would know, and they wouldn't have to
wait to avoid any scandal. They could be married in
two weeks. Henry was just realizing the values of a
friendly demon. With proper handling, a lot of purely friendly summoning,

(27:02):
and a reasonable latitude, there was no reason why Afflier
couldn't provide him with every worldly comfort to share with Shirley.
He caught her to him again, my own little wife.
That's what you are, lambkins. What's a mere piece of paper?
I already think of you as my wife. I feel
you're my wife. That's what counts, isn't it. That's all

(27:24):
that counts. She agreed, with a warmth that set fire
to his blood. Then she gasped, Henry, Darling, it's getting
light already. You'll have to get back. What will the
neighbors say if they see you coming from here now?
He tore away, reluctantly, swearing at the neighbors. But she
was right, of course. He had to go back and
take the sleeping medicine to be ready for the arrival

(27:46):
of the mortician in the morning. It's still early, he protested, automatically,
trying to squeeze out a few more minutes. Nobody's up yet.
I'll heat up the coffee and then you'll have to go,
Shirley said, firmly, heading for the kitchen. Plenty of people
get up early around here, and besides, you need some sleep.

(28:06):
Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy.
And from the kitchen came the beginning of a shrink.
It changed to a horrible gasp and died away in
a failing moan. There was the sound of a body
hitting the floor. Afleer stood over Shirley's body, rubbing one
finger tenderly. His ears twitched uncertainly as he studied Henry's

(28:28):
horror frozen face. I told you, he said, I warned you.
Some of us get conditioned to a habit the first time,
and you thought of her as your wife, and she
said abruptly he vanished. Henry's screams were the only sound
in the apartment, and of no strings attached by Lester

(28:56):
del Rey