W.I. Eisen: The pseudonym of the Argentine writer Isaac Aisemberg.

His stories have contemporary themes and are generally narratives in a clear and direct style. In Jaque Mate en Dos Jugadas, Eisen creates a suspense story in which the assassin, who believes he has committed the perfect crime, hopes to thwart the efforts of the police. Jaque Mate en Dos Jugadas (Checkmate in Two Moves): I poisoned him. In two hours, I would be free. I left for my uncle Nestor at 10 P.M. I did so with happiness. My cheeks were burning. My lips were on fire. Then I calmed myself and began to walk peacefully down the avenue towards the port. I felt content. Free. Until Guillermo becomes a partner in the profits. Poor Guillermo! How timid, how innocent! It was evident that I should think and take advantage of both. It has always been this way, from the day our uncle took us into his house. We lost ourselves in the palace. It was a dry place, without love. There was only the metallic sound of coins. You have to become used to saving, so you dont waste. Someday, [all my money] will be yours, he said. And we became used to waiting for it. Bu this famous and desired day did not arrive, even though my uncle suffered from a heart condition. And if the wait tyrannized us when we were small, it became increasingly intolerable as we grew older. Guillermo fell in love one fine day. Our uncle didnt like the girl however. It was not what he had ambitioned for his nephew. She lacks lineage, she lacks class, yuck! She is an ordinary one, he sentenced. It was useless for Guillermo to describe his girlfriends merits. The old man was stubborn and arbitrary. With me there was another class of problems. With my uncle it was one character against another. He insisted on me getting a doctorate in biochemistry. The result? An expert in poker and horse racing. For these vices, my uncle didnt give me a cent. I had to use all of my intelligence to get a peso. One of the things you had to put up with when with uncle Nestor was the endless games of chess; then I yielded with the air of a magnanimous man, but when he was in a favorable position, he would jot down the moves with indifference, knowing the haste I was in to leave. He enjoyed sipping his cognac at my misfortune. One day he told me with a condescending tone: I see that you put effort into chess. That tells me two things: that you are intelligent and that you are a loafer. Nevertheless your dedication will have its prize. Im just. But keep in mind that since you will never get a degree,

from now on you will keep for me a very nice record of the games. Yes, boy, we are each going to keep notes of our games in notebooks for comparison. Is that fine with you? I realized that it might result in a couple hundred pesos, and I accepted. Since then, every night, it was the statistics. The mania was so engrained in him that in my absence he commented on the games with Julio, the servant. Now everything has finished. When one finds himself in a dead end, the mind works, looks, looks further. And it finds. There is always and exit for everyone. It is not always good. But it is an exit. He went to the Costanera. It was a humid night. In the cloudy sky, an electric spark. The warmth wet the hands and dried the mouth. In the corner, a policeman made my heart skip a beat. The poison, what was the name? Aconitina. I put many droplets in his cognac while we were talking. That night (Saturday) my uncle was charming. He excused me from the game. I will play by myself, he said. I will send away the servants. I want it to be tranquil. Afterwards I will read a good book, something that young people dont understand. You can go. Thank you uncle. Today really isSaturday. I understand The poison has a slow effect, it takes an hour or more, depending on the person. Up to 6 or 8 hours. Precisely during the dream. The result: the appearance of a peaceful heart attack, without incriminating traces. Just what I needed. And who would be suspect? Doctor Vega would have no objection signing the death certificate. And if I was caught? Impossible! But, what about Guillermo? Yes, Guillermo was a problem. I found him in the hall, after preparing the parcel (uncle) to be sent to hell. He walked down the staircase, preoccupied. What happened? I asked jovially, and I would have gladly added, If you knew man! I am tired, he told me. Let us go! I patted his back. You always feel this way after a tragedy. It is that the old man drives me crazy. Ultimately, since you returned to the Faculty and told him the current in chess, uncle Nestor has been picking on me. And Matilda What happened with Matilda? Matilda gave me an ultimatum: Her or uncle.

Choose her. It is an easy choice. That is what I would do And the other? He watched me desperately. With demonic brightness in his eyes; but the poor fool never looked for a way to solve his problem. I would do it he said through his teeth, but how would we live? You already know the old man is hard, relentless. Cut off the food supply!