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THE BEST IN CRIME FICTION

Ol/rSKAWNG F/CTfOB BY

WARD HAWKINS
DAY KEENE
AND MANY
UTHfZSf

MURDER IN FAST COMPANY


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ARMY, NAVY, T
Vol. 2 Contents for March, 1942 No. 1

THRILL-PACKED DETECTIVE NOVEL


YOU’LL BE THE DEATH OF ME!.W. T. Ballard 38
“Play ball and you'll be all right. . . . Cross us and the buzzards will be picking
■ you out from under the cactus!”

SMASHING MYSTERY NOVELETTES


ENTER—THE CORPSE!.Ward Hawkins 10
Silent, afraid, she awaited her cue to sing a torch song that could have but one
ending—murder!
BIG SHOT.Day Keene 90
Out of the night he came on a mission of relentless vengeance—a dead man who
had to pay a debt in blood before he could live again!

OUTSTANDING SHORT FICTION


KILL-AND-TELL KID.Francis K. Allan 28
A kiss-and-tell girl and a kill-and-tell man cross trails for the last time—and the
sequel is written in blood!
MURDER IN FAST COMPANY.William G. Bogart 63
When a copper is on the trail of the man who killed his buddy, there can be but one
grim answer—written with bullets!
THE DEVIL’S HIGHWAY.Philip Ketchum 74
One fateful night he had to solve the strange riddle of a clue that framed him to
the chair—a watch whose hands pointed to murder1
PAY DAY PAY-OFF.Daniel Winters 109
"Lookin’ for your boy friend, copper? You're wastin’ time. You've seen the last
of Willy Nolan—alive!”

TRUE CRIME STORY


THE CASE OF THE HATLESS RIDER.Zeta Rothschild 55
A blood-stained hat points the way to the smiling cowboy killer of Mystery Ranch.

SPECIAL FEATURE
THE WITNESS CHAIR.A Department 6
The man they couldn’t convict.

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TTHE WITNESS
HE courtroom was blanketed in a
thick and sudden silence as the
CHAIR
case out of court on those grounds—in¬
sufficient evidence.”
judge called the accused man to the The smirk on Raney’s face did not
bar. The small, thin man in the sky-blue change. It was as though he had antici¬
suit pushed his chair back with a scraping pated the judge’s words. He swept an
noise that rang loud in the stillness. He arm across his waist in a sweeping
stood up and adjusted his tie, fingered flourish, bowed mockingly, and said,
the large jewel of his stick pin, looked “Thank you, your honor.”
down at his lawyer beside him and Neither the judge nor the crowd found
winked. The corner of his mouth twisted humor in his words or gesture.
in a sardonic smile and he sauntered “Don’t think I’m doing you a favor,”
around the table and toward the bench. the judge said slowly. “If you were ac¬
The leather heels of his extremely pointed quitted here, you could never again be
shoes sounded loudly and distinctly tried for this crime. By keeping this case
against the floor. from the jury I’m saving you for a jury
In the center of the courtroom, in an that will be able to hang you. Go ahead
aisle seat, a stout man with gray hair and smirk, Raney. One day there’ll be
tongued dry lips nervously. His fingers an alibi that won’t hold water; one day
drummed nervously against his thigh. The there will be a witness who can’t be bought
next few moments might be vitally im¬ or intimidated. Some day decent citizens
portant to him. What was going to will realize that there can be no security
happen? Down front, seated at a table by knuckling under to law breakers, that
on the other side of the courtroom from there is as much risk in allowing criminals
the accused, a dark-haired, deep-eyed to go unpunished as there is in defying a
young man rammed a sheaf of papers into gunman’s intimidations. And when that
a brief case in disgust. He knew what was day comes, Raney—watch out. . . . Case
going to happen. dismissed.”
The judge said, “Raney, if I let this The crowd seemed to release its breath
case go to the jury, they would undoubt¬ in a wave of excited murmuring. The
edly acquit you. There hasn’t been a stitch stout, gray man dropped his head to his
of real evidence presented against you. chest, and his hands folded briefly in
Therefore I’m going to save the state front of him as though in prayer. A slight
both time and money by throwing this (Continued on page 8)
6
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New Detective Magazine
(Continued front page 6) the story of how it happened is one of
touch of color had come back to his cheek. tragic irony.
He stood up to leave, and then seemed to Almost six months after his case had
cringe back into the row of seats. Joe been thrown out of court, Raney was in¬
Raney was sauntering up the aisle. volved in a gun battle. Police had sur¬
The gang leader paused just a second prised a gang in the midst of a jewelry
before the man, gave him a wordless, de¬ store hold-up. In the running battle that
risive stare and walked on. had ensued, several bystanders had been
The stout man mopped his brow with killed. One of them was the fifteen-year-
a handkerchief and stepped slowly into old Ellen Cushing, daughter of the man
the aisle. Then he saw the dark-haired who had enabled Raney to go free.
young man walking toward him and he The bandits had been masked, and they
quickened his pace. But the other caught made a successful getaway, and so the
up with him. police were left without a clue as to their
He said, “Satisfied, Cushing?” identity. But one of the clerks of the
The stout man bit his lip. “I—I’m jewelry store came forward with the in¬
sorry, Mr. White.” formation that during the hold-up the
The other just shook his head sadly. mask on one of the men’s faces had
Then Cushing spoke words in a sudden slipped. He was positive he could identify
rush. “I had to, Mr. White. You under¬ the man. In the rogue’s gallery he pointed
stand why. Ellen, my little girl—they out the picture of Joe Raney.
were going to. . . . I—I couldn’t testify Raney was brought to trial once again,
against him. I was going to—but when I and this time he was convicted. Yes,
was on the stand I—I could remember someone had gotten to the Jewelry clerk,
their words. I just couldn’t. I just—” but it made no difference. You see, Cush¬
White was speaking, yet his words ing had spoken to him also. If the witness
seemed addressed to no one in particular. was scared when he took the stand he did
“I’ll get Joe Raney yet. I’ve still got not let it affect his memory. Raney was
another year as district attorney, and by executed, and with him died whatever
heaven I’ll see him hang before I’m threats he had made.
through.” The story of Cushing is, of course, un¬

A LTHOUGH, for obvious reasons,


the names of the characters in the
usual. If it wasn’t, it would never have
been called to our attention. It would
just have been another of the instances
above incident are fictitious, the where honest citizens are intimidated by
story is the same as innumerable others law breakers.
repeated day after day in our courts. In their fear for either themselves or
The problem facing District Attorney their dear ones, they forget two very im¬
White in the Raney case was by no means portant things. When they agree to testi¬
unique. In fact, in many ways it was fy, police will guarantee them protection
typical of a situation existing throughout until the killer, and those of his henchmen
the nation. One of the most difficult ob¬ who might threaten them are brought to
stacles law enforcement officers have to justice. And more important that that,
overcome is the fear that clamps shut the they forget that they cannot divorce them¬
mouths of their ace witnesses. Those four selves from their community. By allow¬
words have become a familiar cry through¬ ing a killer to go free, they jeopardize their
out the courts of our land—“Insufficient own safety, for surely that killer will
evidence—Case dismissed!” In courtroom strike again. Cushing knew that, but he
after courtroom the prosecution will build gambled on the law of chance which said
its case around the testimony of a star that it would be someone other than his
witness—only to find that witness sud¬ own daughter who would stop Raney’s
denly mute with terror when on the stand. next bullet. But Cushing had failed to
Someone had gotten to him—just as answer the question which every citizen
someone had gotten to Cushing. in his position should face honestly.
District Attorney White finally did In a community where killers roam the
make good his vow to get Raney. And streets, what man is safe?
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Silent, unknowing, she awaited her cue to sing a number
that could have but one ending—as Death rings down the
curtain on a torch song that must end in murder!

H ER NAME was Virginia Lee, and


she’d been with Red English
from the beginning. He’d been
just another guy Ayith a horn, an unknown
band, and holes in his shoes. She’d sung
for friends. Her voice had been scared,
excited, but she’d hit each note like a
silver bell.
"That’s her 1” English had whispered.
“Face, figure, voice—perfect! Mortgage
my soul and yours,” he told his manager,
11
12 New Detective Magazine

“but get her. Get her for the band. . ." something? What’s the trouble, Ginnie?”
Three and a half years. . . They were “Red, please—”
on the road now, but it was super-super. Her hand was on the door of her dress¬
Big money, big houses, big towns—big ing room. She faced him, half defiant,
business. This was the Rialto. This was half afraid. English caught her chin,
success, and Virginia Lee’s home town. drawing it up. Her eyes met his and slid
It should have been swell for her, but it away.
wasn’t. She’d picked this time and place English said, “What gives. Gin?”
to go sour. She was terrible! She bit her lips. Then, raggedly, want¬
“She’s scared!” English suddenly de¬ ing to get away, she said, “Oh, bawl me
cided. “And it’s not stage-fright. It’s out and let me go. I was terrible; I know
something else.” it. Get it over, and then let me alone. I—
He was sweating, and so was the band. I’ve got a headache—”
When a thing like that happens to a girl “Ginnie, I—”
like Virginia Lee, it’s agony to hear and Red English left it unfinished. Instead,
misery to watch. Her hands shook. Her he said. “Let’s go in,” and reached past
face beneath glossy black hair was stiff her, twisting the key. She protested. She
and white. And her voice was uncertain, was still protesting when he settled him¬
weak. self on the settee and picked up a news¬
Red English took it away from her. It paper. It was an evening paper, and
was the theme which closed his show. there were headlines, but he didn’t read
She was to have sung the chorus twice— them. He was putting on an act.
once sweet, once hot—but English took “Red, I’ve got a headache—”
the second chorus himself. “Don’t give me that!”
“Stick around,” he whispered. “But—”
Applause thundered up as he wheeled “Phooey!”
to face the vast, darkened bowl of the He stood up. He was tall, and he-had
theater. The golden voice of his trumpet good shoulders and strong, capable hands.
lifted, full and rich, weaving smoky magic His chin was set. There was a business¬
against rhythm that was solid and per¬ like look in his blue eyes.
fect. For the full chorus it was Red Eng¬ “Sweetheart,” he said, “you’ve got
lish all the way. trouble. You’ve got a bucketful of trouble,
It was English, wide of shoulder, lean and I want in on it. Either I get in, or
of face, standing alone in the white down¬ we stay here all night.” He scowled.
pour of the spotlight, playing that beauti¬ “And maybe that’s an idea. You’d have
ful, unbelievable horn. English, and to marry me then, and a guy gets in on
there were no holes in his shoes. English, his wife’s troubles...”
riding Stars In Your Eyes right out of “Please! Please! Go away!”
this world. . . She twisted long, slender hands. This
It was over at last, the encores, the wasn’t put on. It was anxiety, and the
curtain calls. Out front, the crowded McCoy. Now, more than ever, English
theater emptied its people into the street. was determined to stay.
Mess-jacketed bandsmen moved in the He set his jaw. “No soap!”
dim cavern of the stage, casing instru¬ Behind him, a voice said, "Put ’em up,
ments. Red English hurried after Vir¬ you!”
ginia Lee. He caught her in the corridor Virginia Lee’s eyes lifted over Eng¬
outside her dressing room. lish’s shoulder, jerked wide.
“Hey, there!” he said. “You sick, or “Ronnie, no!” She flung herself at
Enter—the Corpse! 13

English, caught him around the neck, come here if I wasn’t on the level? Hell,
pushed him aside. Holding her, English I’d catch a freight; I’d put miles between
swung around to face the voice. me and the stir—”
The closet door was open. A man stood English dug fingers through his short,
there holding a .25 Colt automatic. He red hair, scowling, undecided.
wore a stained trench coat, a grey hat, Finally, he said. “Let’s hear the story—
shapeless trousers and worn shoes. He from the beginning. ...”
wasn’t old; perhaps twenty three. But
there was no youth in his face. It was
white and colorless and cold. His eyes
I N 1935, they told him, Ronald Lee
had a job with a gambling syndicate
beneath his low-swept hat brim were in¬ in this city. Ronald Lee was a shill
tent, wary. for a floating poker game. His stand was
He said, “English, eh?” His lips let the corner of Fortieth and Stark. Nights,
the words by without touching them. “Is from evening till late, he’d be there,
he okay?” he asked Virginia. “Can he dressed in a near-white hat and a loud,
keep his mouth shut?” checked suit. When people asked him
English looked at the girl. Shadows lay where the game was, he’d tell them,
in her cheeks; her voice was lifeless. “Crestwell Apartments, 5-A,” or where-
“This is my brother,” she said. “Ronald ever Jim Simms was holding forth that
Lee.” night.
“But why the gun? Why—” Jim Simms was half the “combine”
“Don’t you read the papers?” Ronald which controlled the city’s gambling. The
Lee asked. other half was Helen Adams—money mad,
Red English spun to the newspaper on and hard as brass, but very smooth for
the settee. Headlines, unnoticed before, all of that. The combine had backing.
leaped out of his eyes. There was a pic¬ The district attorney wondered who the
ture, full-face and profile. There was the backing was, and hired a private detec¬
story. tive, one Henry Goodman, to find out.
“Murderer Escapes!” English read. And Henry Goodman was murdered.
“Ronald Lee, serving life sentence for the The night of the killing, Ronald Lee
murder of Henry Goodman, gained liberty got orders to drive to an address out of
today through the window of the prison town. When he returned, the police were
hospital. Authorities believe—” waiting with a charge of murder. Some¬
The paper crumpled in English’s hand. one dressed exactly as Ronald Lee had
“You dirty louse! Dragging your sister gone to Goodman’s apartment, had been
into a mess like—” inside the apartment when two shots
“Listen, you—1” were fired, and had left the apartment
“Stop it! Stop it!” Virginia Lee afterward. A witness had positively iden¬
pressed both hands to her temples. Then tified Ronald Lee as that someone.
she turned on Red English, pleading. “It was the clothes,” Lee told English.
“He’s not dragging me into it. I want to “I wore that goofy outfit so people would
help him. He’s innocent! He didn’t kill know me. They sent me out of town on a
Henry Goodman! The only way he could fake errand, dressed the killer in an out¬
prove it was to escape and find the real fit like mine, and had him shoot Good¬
murderer!” man.”
“How do you know he’s innocent?” “They?”
“Because he’s my brother.” “Simms and that Adams woman. Who
Ronald Lee said, “Look, guy. Would I else?” Lee leaned forward, two spots of
14 New Detective Magazim

feverish color in his cheeks. “They theater—a big sound, and frightening,
framed me and they’re going to admit it. even muffled by the walls. But more
If they don’t, I’ll make the charge against frightening was the scream that followed.
me a hanging matter!” A man was hurt, terribly—the scream
A low whistle floated into the room. told tha!
The three inside jerked around like
puppets on a string. The door was open
about six inches. Two hands were there,
R ED ENGLISH ran from the dress¬
ing room. He took the stairs
holding a camera into the room. As they leading stageward in long, des¬
stared at it, the flashlight exploded and perate jumps. Virginia hurried after him.
their picture was taken. The camera The curtain was up. There was not much
withdrew. light, only a few bulbs on the stage and
Ronald Lee was on his feet in an in¬ red Exit signs at the tunnels in the bal¬
stant, lunging for the door. He tore at cony.
the knob. The door opened six inches, English saw a man stumbling along a
no more. Red English saw why—a rope cross-balcony aisle. The man rocked from
was tied to the doorknob on the outside, side to side. His knees buckled. Each
and to a steam-pipe across the corridor. time he caught himself, only to slump
Ronald Lee’s frantic efforts failed to again. He reached the center aisle,
break the rope. English shouldered him turned and came toward the stage.
aside and set to work with his pen-knife. For the first time he saw English and
It was almost a minute before the rope Virginia Lee. He reached out to them.
was cut. His feet tangled, then, and he pitched
“Too late!” English said, "He’s gone I” down the steep incline, rolling, sliding,
Ronald Lee’s face was paper-white. and went out of sight into the loges. A
"Those dirty lice—” He shoved past moment later, his hand appeared on the
English and ran down the corridor. rail, and he dragged himself up.
English was undecided for a moment. Light reached him there. He was mid¬
He thought Lee would get out of the dle-aged, grey and heavy of body. His
theater as fast as he could. He slipped dress-shirt was not white, but red. He
the rope from the doorknob and turned leaned against the rail, clutching his chest,
back into the room. The rope was fash¬ trying to call to English. His voice was
ioned in a hangman’s knot. congested, unintelligible. He coughed.
“Nice,” English muttered bitterly. Red stained his chin, and then his voice
Virginia Lee was standing with her rang clear.
back to the wall, breathless, round-eyed, "LeeI” he said. “Ronald Lee!”
pale. English looked at her soberly. The gun fired again, two shots, care¬
She whispered, “Who—who was it?” fully spaced. The left balcony tunnel was
"It was a news camera—you guess who a deep pocket of shadow, and the yellow
it was.”
flame of the gun was there. All English
“A—a reporter?” she said faintly. could see of the man was the outline of
"Who else?” English’s face was bleak. his head. His head was exactly between
“What a story I ‘English and singer en¬ English’s eye and the red Exit light. The
tertain escaped murderer I’ We ought to man was hatless, but more than that Eng¬
get the whole front page—” lish could not tell.
"He’s not a murderer!”
The man at the balcony rail convulsed.
And the shot came then. His head went back, jaws and neck strain¬
It came from somewhere out in the ing. He screamed again. Fear and agony
Enter—the Corpse! 15

moulded the rasping tones, flung them broken. “Red—what are we going to
against the walls. Death cut them short. do?”
The man seemed to shrivel. He crumpled “Keep our mouths shut; admit noth¬
forward. The rail caught his hips, up¬ ing!”
ended him. Like a loosely turning pin- “It’s so terrible! He was k—killed
wheel, he fell. right before our eyes. He said Ronnie’s
Virginia Lee whimpered once, and then name. Do you think—?”
fainted. “No, Ronnie didn’t kill him. Ronnie
Red English left her lying on the stage. was plenty scared when he left here. He’s
He sprinted forward, leaped the orchestra probably still running.”
pit and raced down a side aisle. To gain English put her on the settee and spread
the balcony, he had to climb two flights a blanket over her. “Pretend you’re still
of stairs, cross a lounge. There was a unconscious. Take it hard when you come
street exit near the balcony tunnel the out of it. Weep. Carry on. They’ll let
killer had used. Steel steps led down the you go sooner. I’ll see you at the hotel.”
side of the building. They were empty, The maid came, a bustling, excited
glistening in the rain. The murderer had colored woman. English gave her instruc¬
had plenty of time to gain the alley. Eng¬ tions and went out, to find Alexander
lish turned back into the building. Jones waiting in the corridor.
Excitement crackled through the house. Jones was a tall man. He had a beaked
Lights went up. Voices shouted ques¬ nose, slate-grey eyes and a relish for dry
tions, answers. English went into the whimsy. In a cynical way, he seemed to
balcony tunnel. He discovered that to find something amusing ia every situa¬
shoot a man at the center aisle balcony tion. He was not much upset by the
rail, the killer had to stand in one par¬ murder.
ticular spot. He stood there, and saw a “She okay?” he asked.
brass cartridge case not far off. It was a “She’s upset terribly,” English said.
.45 caliber. He found a second one, but “Virginia is a high-strung girl. A thing
not a third. There had been three shots like this—”
in all. English went downstairs. Jones made a sympathetic sound and
Martin Knight, the theater owner, had fell in step with English. Compared to
just collapsed in a rear seat. Fussing over the band leader’s trim, broad-shouldered
him was the house press agent, Alexander figure, the press agent looked like a ram-
Jones. Jones called excitedly to English, shackled fugitive from a com field.
but the band leader was on his way to . “It’s a lousy break,” he offered conver¬
Virginia’s side. He found a tall young sationally. “You’re in for it—cops, re¬
man in an usher’s uniform bending over porters, inquests. When a guy like Jim
her. Simms gets shot, it calls for a whoop-te-
"I—I guess she’s all right,” the usher do, I’ll tell you—”
stuttered. He was dark and good-looking, “Did you say Jim Simms?”
and the word Captain was gold-lettered “Yuh. Local big-shot. Ran a race
above his breast pocket. “Just fainted—” track and a couple of gambling houses.
“I’ll take her,” English clipped. “Find Semi-respectable. Came up outa the
a maid . . . call a doctor . . . send for the booze-running Prohibition days. But this
kill will be good for business. It’ll bring
police. . .”
Carrying Virginia toward her dressing ’em out. We’ll pack the house.”
room, English felt her arms creep up “I’m a musician," said English, “not a
around his neck. Her voice was low. freak I”
16 New detective Magazine

Jones’ chuckle was dry. “My friend, was excited. He might have. If the usher
you’re news.” said he did, then it’s probably the truth.”

F OUR hours later, at three in the


morning, the worst of it was over.
“He did, all right,” said the usher.
The usher’s name was Joseph Shane.
He was the nephew of Martin Knight,
Red English sat in the office of learning the business from the ground up.
Martin Knight on the third floor of the His uniform collar was unbuttoned. He
theater building. English was very tired. sipped his drink, watching the others, his
He was having a Scotch-and-soda. darkly handsome face intent on Jones,
Martin Knight was at his desk. Fatigue whom he seemed to dislike. “I was in the
had greyed his usually pink cheeks, had lobby and I heard him.”
loosened the muscles there and let them “Look,” said English, standing up.
sag. He was a little vexed at Jones, who “All I want is that the girl be left alone.
had gotten himself a little tight. Jones’ Her brother’s escape, this killing—it’s
feet were on the window sill, his hat low been a terrible shock to her. Ronald must
over his eyes. He fiddled with the cord be caught, of course. He’s an escaped con¬
of the Venetian blind, stubbornly refusing vict. Virginia and I will do all we can.
to take anything or anybody seriously. But don't make Virginia feel like bait in
“Too long have I lived among thieves,” a trap set to catch her own brother. Keep
he murmured, “to weep at the death of your cops away. Okay?”
one of them.” Maddux looked sour. “I’ll think about
Detective Sergeant Print Maddux, it.”
Homicide, made a derisive sound. Mad¬ English turned to Knight. “You’re
dux was a bullish man, grey, but thick of dead set on a show tomorrow?”
neck and shoulder. He looked squarely at “What can I do?” Knight lifted tired
the world with round black eyes. He hands. “It isn’t money I can throw
spoke bluntly, for his mind was like that, away.”
direct, blunt and without frills. “But it’s tainted.”
To English he said, “I’ve got a hunch That from Alexander Jones, who un¬
Lee’ll try to contact his sister. Suppose folded his slat-like body out of his chair.
I put a couple of men watching her. May¬ He went to the taboret and poured him¬
be a police woman for a maid—” self a drink.
English said, “You will not! She’s up¬ English went to the window, pretend¬
set enough now. She’s got to be able to ing to look out, but a piece of the Venetian
sing, you know. I’ve got a contract to blind cord was gone when he turned
fill—” away. Jones linked arms with English
“And I’ve got a murderer to catch!” and made a droll face.
English’s lips tightened. “Perhaps Lee “Knight’s got all the nicer instincts of
didn’t shoot Simms,” he said. “Did that a ghoul,” he said. "Shall we go where
occur to you?” the air is fresher ?”
“Yeah,” the detective grunted. “And English was willing. Together they
then I thought of this: Lee swore he’d left the building. There was scarcely any
shoot Simms when he got sent up. Lee traffic on the streets. The rain had
escaped. Simms got killed. And Simms stopped, leaving the air sweet and cold.
died yelling Lee’s name." Maddux English found an all-night restaurant, and
squinted at English. “But of course you took the lanky press agent there.
didn’t hear that—” "Now,” he said, over coffee, “you’re
"I said not," replied English, “but I goin’ to tell me things.”
Enter—the Corpse! 17

Amused, Jones said. “What things?” swung loosely about her shoulders. Worry
"What was Simms doing in the theater and nerves had put dark shadows under
a half-hour after the show was over?” her eyes, in her cheeks. Her slender
“What, indeed?” said Jones. “No one hands were never still.
seems to know.” “I waited for the papers,” said Eng¬
English regarded Jones thoughtfully. lish, throwing them on the bed. “No pic¬
There was an easy smile on Jones’ wide ture.”
mouth, a looseness in his body. But the “What does that mean?”
man was nonetheless on his guard. “I wish I knew. A news photog would
“I understand you worked for Simms have the picture there. If it wasn’t a news
at one time.” photographer, who was it ? And why did
“Uh-huh,” said Jones. “Matter of he want the picture?”
fact, it was at the time Ronald Lee shot “It might be blackmail.”
Goodman. But I can’t offer any evidence “It might,” said English tiredly.
that he didn’t shoot him, if that’s what Virginia’s eyes caught the headlines.
you want.” “They think Ronnie killed him!”
“That’s what I want.” English pursed English nodded. “But I’ll give you ten-
his lips. Then: “Maybe you’re the mur¬ to-one he didn’t. When Ronnie was in
derer.” your dressing room, he had a twenty-five
“It’s a thought.” Jones leaned for¬ automatic. The gun that killed Simms
ward, his voice low. “Confidentially, I was a forty-five. Ronnie wouldn’t carry
think I am, myself. Look at the case two guns—a forty-five would be plenty.”
against me! My family disowned me, but "Thank heaven!” Virginia Lee said.
I’ve got a chance at the family fortune if “But somebody killed Simms! If not
I live right. But do I ? No! I run up a Ronnie, who ? And for what reason ?
huge gambling debt with Simms. I can’t And will he kill again?” English scowled.
pay. Simms threatens to go back East “We should turn Ronnie over to the
and collect from the old man." police. Yet if we do, we’ll be putting a
“Which would,” English supplied, noose around his neck. And if we don’t,
“scuttle your chances at the Jones’ mil¬ we’ll be putting ourselves in prison for
lions.” sheltering an escaped convict.”
“Exactly!” said Jones. “So what did I “We’re not sheltering him,” Virginia
do?” he leveled a finger at English and pointed out. “We don’t even know where
wiggled his thumb. “Bang! Bang! It he is. But perhaps you’d best tell the
solves everything.” Then he sat back, police what you know, and—and leave it
grimacing disgustedly. “But Maddux ig¬ alone.”
nores me—won’t even listen to my story. “What?” said English. “Walk away
Sometimes I think I’d best hang myself.” with the mystery still unsolved ? My dear,
Soberly, English said, “You might that’s contrary to form. The hero stays
have something there. ...” to the bloody end, you know.” He grin¬

I T WAS four o’clock when English


knocked on the door of Virginia
ned. “Or ain’t I the hero of this story?”
Earnestly she said, “You’re mine, any¬
way.”
Lee’s room. The door opened at once.
Virginia’s nerves were almost as bad as OW’S your memory?” Red
English had said they were. I I English asked.
“I—I thought you’d never get here." He was with Virginia Lee
She wore a negligee and her black hair in a rented car, driving against the flow
18 New Detective Magazine

of the noon traffic. The sky had cleared, few traces of the "vulture”—sharp eyes
but the city was drear-looking, for it was and a thin mouth, a coarseness in the way
a late autumn sun and it had no warmth. she moved and spoke.
Virginia’s voice was tired. She gave English wine and a cigarette;
“All right, I guess.” she asked him why he’d come.
“What do you remember about the "It’s about Ronald Lee—”
hands that held the camera last night?” "That damned kid!” she rasped, with
After a moment, she answered, “Noth¬ sudden violence.
ing.” “But—”
“Nor do I.” English said. “They could "Listen,” she said, leaning forward.
have been slim or fat, with rings or with¬ “I’ve been afraid of something like this
out. Too bad—it would have been a good ever since they sent him up. He swore
clue.” he’d kill us both, swore Jim and I framed
They turned onto a boulevard that led him. Well, they’ll hang him this time.”
steeply into a residential district called She sat back. “I only hope I’m alive to
“The Heights.” read about it.”
As he took the car around the many Red English’s blue eyes were narrow,
curves, English said, “I figure the mur¬ speculative.
derer had wanted Simms dead for a long “A couple of people think he didn’t
time. When Ronnie broke out, he had a kill Simms.”
ready-made ‘goat.’ He killed Simms and She stiffened. “Who?”
the police blamed it on Ronnie. But what “Me,” said English. “His sister.”
was the motive ? It must have been some¬ She remained tense. “Go on; why?”
thing connected with Simms’ gambling "It’s not much,” English admitted.
business. And if it is, who would be most “Call it faith in the boy. He still thinks
likely to know it ?” you or Simms framed him—”
“Helen Adams.” “I didn’t!” Helen Adams cried. "I
“Right! His partner. The other half of never framed a man in my life!”
the combine that Ronnie thinks framed “Simms might have without your
him. So I called Alexander Jones—he knowledge.”
worked for them, you know—and Jones She was a little mollified. “Well, may¬
made an appointment for us.” be. There was that fellow Goodman,
“Not for ‘us’, ” said Virginia. “I’ll snooping around— But, no. No, the
wait in the car. That woman—well. I’d kid’s saying that to get your sympathy.”
rather not meet her.” "See here,” said English. “Pretend
“Suit yourself.” Ronald Lee did not kill Simms—just for
English brought the car to a stop be¬ the moment. Isn’t there someone else
fore what looked like an expensive upper- who might have killed Simms? Hasn’t
class home. But when the maid let Eng¬ someone else a good motive? Mightn’t
lish in, he saw a bar where the conserva¬ this someone want to kill you for the
tory should have been, roulette tables same motive. It would be easy, you know.
toward the rear. Helen Adams was wait¬ You wouldn’t suspect him. The police
ing in the second floor library. would blame Ronnie. If somebody wanted
She was a tall woman. As she took you dead, this would be a swell time to
English’s hand, he thought, Expensive, kill you—”
for she was too carefully groomed to look “Say—!”
natural. She lacked warmth. She had An uneasy light came to life in the
very correct manners, but there were a woman’s eyes. It was plain that her mind
Enter—the Corpse! 19

was turning over the suggestion, finding Helen Adams was lying on the floor
it unpleasant, frightening. She reached in the lower hallway. Her silk dress was
forward, suddenly, stubbed out her drenched with blood. As English reached
cigarette and stood up. the bottom step, her head moved, lifting.
“Wait here,” she said. “I’ll make a She raised on one elbow. Blonde hair
phone call, and then maybe I’ll have spilled into her face. Red trickled from
something to tell you.” each corner of her mouth. She looked at
She went to the door, paused. “Help English with glazed, un-seeing eyes. She
yourself to the wine,” she said, and Eng¬ whimpered. Her fingers dug convulsively
lish did not see her transfer the key to the at the rug.
outside of the door. She went out, closing English’s first thought was a doctor.
the door solidly behind her. English took He leaped across her to the telephone.
a cigarette, lighted it, and sat there a few But even as he spun the dial, he saw her
moments. . . suddenly stiffen. Her lifted head bowed,
And then a gun exploded on the floor all the muscles of her body stretched to a
below. trembling tautness. With a throaty sound
Two shots, two thunderous blasts of a she collapsed. She was dead.
big-caliber gun, and the walls seemed to English called the police. . . .
shake with it. English was out of his
chair and across the room in one desperate
lunge. He caught the door knob, twisted
D ETECTIVE Sergeant Print Mad¬
dux reviewed the crime. “He
it, jerked. But the door was locked. left his car—a stolen car—on the
English rattled the knob, pounded the side street and came up the alley, entering
panel, shouted. It was a long moment be¬ the house through the side entrance. The
fore he realized what an idiotic waste of maid was in the pantry and thought it
time that was. He spun and caught up a was the grocer’s boy. He went into the
chair and swung it high. The chair dis¬ hall and met Helen Adams face-to-face—”
integrated ; the door remained un¬ “No,” said the medical examiner. “He
damaged. The screen on the front en¬ shot her in the back.”
trance slammed. Feet drummed across They were in the barroom. Maddux
the porch. English ran to the front win¬ had the center of the floor, and grouped
dow. about him were reporters, photographers,
He saw a man emerge onto the lawn, the coroner’s men, plainclothesmen, and
and start to sprint diagonally across it. the like.
And then Virginia Lee stepped out of the Red English was on the edge of his
car. The man and the girl were no more chair, tension and impatience in every line
than thirty feet apart. The man wore a of his face.
grey felt hat and a stained trench coat. “All right,” said Maddux. “He saw
The man turned in mid-stride, ran at her back, then. So he let her have it,
Virginia. She seemed too startled to twice, with a forty-five. The maid came
move. He caught her roughly and forced out of the pantry, saw what happened and
her into the car English had rented. The fainted. The killer ran out the front door.
motor came to life. The man turned the His coat hooked up on the door catch and
car with quick savagery and took it down this button come off.”
the street. He held the button up—it was leather-
Red English’s face was grey when he covered, the type most commonly used on
turned from the window. With a heavy trench coats.
chair he battered the door down. “He started for his car, but the girl got
20 New Detective Magazine

out of English’s, and she recognized him English went rigid. His face lost color
—they weren’t no more than twenty feet and the muscles at the corners of his
apart. He couldn’t leave her. So he jaw bunched.
pushed her into the car and drove away. “In,” the voice said, and English
And we got plenty of proof it was her opened the door and moved into the room.
brother, Ronald Lee.” He heard the door shut.
“What proof?” a reporter asked. “Now turn around, you dirty louse!”
“Her brother was seen last night,” Ronald Lee had gotten rid of the trench
Maddux said, looking at English, “wear¬ coat and grey hat—the papers had made
ing a stained trench coat and a grey hat. those dangerous now. He wore dark
That’s what this killer wore. English seen clothes. The flesh of his face was grey-
it and so did the maid, and we got this white and it seemed too tightly stretched.
button.” There was fury in him, blazing out of the
The same reporter asked, “Will he kill narrow slits that were his eyes.
his sister?” “So you identified me!” he gritted.
Maddux said, “My God, how should I “Well, you dirty scum, you’re not gettin’
know?” away with it l”
It was late afternoon before English English wet dry lips. “Where’s Vir¬
got away. Extras were on the streets. ginia— ?”
“English Recognizes Killer!” the news¬ “Never mind her!” Lee rasped. “We’re
boys cried. “Famous Band Leader says talking about you, and what a dirty,
Murderer Is Brother of Songstress Vir¬ double-crossing rat you are! I’ve got two
ginia Lee!” murders on my hands! What’s to stop
English had made a clean breast of it me from making it three?”
to Detective Maddux. The result was a “Ronnie, listen—”
perfect story from the newspaper point “Listen, hell! You’re gonna get a taste
of view. of what I’ll get when the cops catch me.
The clerk at English’s hotel gave him Hot lead!” His voice was hoarse, pant¬
his key and mail. There were three notes ing. “Say your prayers—!”
asking him to call Martin Knight, several The gun came up, centered on English’s
letters and one large manila envelope. chest; the finger whitened. Ronald Lee
The large envelope was postmarked early meant what he said. His colorless face
that morning. English opened it in the was an ugly mask; it was hate and fear
elevator. driven to the point of murder.
He opened it and swore. It contained English looked past Ronnie, said, “Vir¬
the picture taken the night before in Vir¬ ginia! Don’t!”
ginia’s dressing room! English, Virginia Ronnie did not turn—the trick was too
and Ronald Lee were each plain and easily old for that. But he was startled, even so.
recognizable. Across the bottom of the It took a moment for his mind to digest
picture was scrawled the terse warning: the words, to realize it was a ruse. A mo¬
Stop playing Detectivel Lay off, or this ment was enough. English slapped at the
goes to the papers! gun.
English put it in his pocket. There was six feet of tense, geared-up

H E HAD his key in the lock of his


door, when something hard
muscle behind the blow, a mind that fully
understood the risk. He hit hard, ham¬
mering the barrel down. The gun went
pressed against his backbone. off. A bullet slammed into the floor. The
“Take it easy,” a brittle voice said. gun was tom from Lee’s hand. English
Enter—the Corpse! 21

kicked it across the room under the bed. side the door. The first person to come
“Damn you—!” Lee snarled. through was Martin Knight. The theater
He lunged after the gun. English owner’s face blanched; his eyes popped.
caught him, drove him against the wall He dropped beside English.
with a solid shoulder, pinned him there. “My God! He shot you—!”
Lee turned into a fighting madman. His English managed, after some moments,
hands became claws, scratching, gouging. to convince Knight otherwise. He got
There were excited cries from adjoining Knight to go out and clear the halls, and
rooms to lend him strength. then to stall the house detective.
English fought with his fists, striving Martin Knight wanted English at the
for a clean, solid blow to knock Lee out. show that night—he’d called three times,
Lee used any means, every means, and and finally he’d come after him. But Eng¬
that swung the balance. He gave English lish flatly refused. His face was the color
a savage kick in the groin. Pain flamed of wet ashes. He was weak, shaky. But
through English’s mid-section. The there was no doubting the stubborn will
strength went out of him. of the man.
Lee pushed free of English’s crumpling “Sue me, and be damned!” he rasped.
form. There was no time now to retrieve “I’m not going until I know that Vir¬
the gun from under the bed. He clawed ginia’s safe!”
at the door, dragged it open and lunged
away. English could do nothing to stop
him. He was on the floor, gasping, bent
M artin knight was upset.
He was a pathetic little figure,
into a tight knot of agony. white-haired, anxious. "I would¬
The halls filled. Voices chattered out¬ n’t insist if I thought you could help her,”

Save Extra Money! Get The Big New Economy Patkage, 12 For 27c
22 New Detective Magazine

he said. “But what can you do? The your office, he was fiddling with the cord
police are—” of the Venetian blind. He tied a knot in
“The police are chasing wild geese!” it. I cut it off. Here it is.”
English got the pistol from under the He held up a piece of cord tied in a
bed and laid it on the end table. hangman’s knot!
“That’s a twenty-five!” he rasped. “Good heavens!” Knight gasped.
“Jim Simms and Helen Adams were both English said, “He saw Ronald Lee go
killed with a forty-five. Ronald Lee into Virginia’s dressing room. He took
wouldn’t use two guns. If he had a forty- the picture. Then he went up on the bal¬
five, he’d use that all the time—it’s bigger, cony and shot Simms. Probably Simms
more powerful.” had come to dun him. Early this morning,
He laid the picture beside the gun. he sent this picture, because he was afraid
“That was taken last night,” he said, of me. Then I called him about the ap¬
and explained the exact circumstances. pointment with Helen Adams.”
“Look at his coat. Look at the buttons. “He was afraid she’d tell you some¬
Are they leather-covered? No! Would thing,” Knight put in excitedly. “He de¬
Lee sew different buttons on his coat after cided to kill her. He had the picture to
this picture was taken and before he killed show him how Lee was dressed. He de¬
Helen Adams? Not by a damn’ sight!” cided to masquerade as Lee. They’re
“You—you mean—?” about the same size and build—”
“I’ll show you,” English snapped. “But “Exactly!” said English. “And unless
first tell me—what do you know about I miss my guess, he had done the same
Jones?” thing once before. He dressed himself as
“Why, not a great deal. Comes of a Lee and shot Henry Goodman. But this
wealthy family, I understand. Got dis¬ time he slipped. He met Virginia Lee
owned for drinking and carousing. I be¬ face-to-face. She recognized him, of
lieve there was some talk that he and his course. So he had to take her with him.”
father were about to get together again.” “Then Lee came here, because he
“Did he owe Simms and Adams any¬ thought you had deliberately tried to
thing ?” frame him!”
Knight snapped his fingers. “He did! “Yes. The poor devil is almost crazy
A gambling debt. Close to ten thousand, —blamed for murders he didn’t do, hunf?3
I believe. He mentioned it when he was like a mad dog. He saw the headlines,
drunk one night. Simms was pressing ‘English Recognizes Killer!’ and that was
him for it. Getting very nasty about it, in enough. He came to get revenge while he
fact.” could.”
“Just what Jones told me!” said Eng¬ “What are you going to do?"
lish. “I thought he was kidding. He was "I—”
really trying to appear innocent by pre¬ The telephone rang.
tending he had nothing to hide!” The voice on the wire was faint and
“Surely, Jones didn’t—” thin, as if the speaker had very little
“The man who took that picture—who strength.
tied the rope on the door of Virginia’s “’Lo, sweetheart,” it said. “This’s
dressing room—used the hangman’s knot. Jones.”
It was the best knot possible, because “Jones!" English barked. “Where are
when it’s tight, it’s hard to slip. Not you?”
many people can tie one. Can you? No, “My, my, you sound excited. Still
nor can I. But Jones can! Last night in playing detective, I’ll bet. Well, maybe
Enter—the Corpse! 23

it’s a good idea. Good publicity. How He tipped her head up, holding her face
does this sound: ‘English Rescues Be¬ to the light. She didn’t recognize him,
loved!’ Or this: ‘Intrepid Band Leader neither did she resist. Her mouth was
Solves Baffling Mystery!’ What editor slack, here eyes dull. She wavered,
could resist it?” sagging heavily into English’s hands.
“Damn you, Jones—!” “What the devil?” Knight panted.
“Ah! Ah!- Ah!” Jones chided faintly. “She’s drunk!”
“That’s fightin’ talk, pardner! If it’s a “No!” English rasped. "Not drunk!
fight you want, suh, saddle yore hoss! •It’s—”
Come ovah to the Rialto—and come a He caught her chin up again, looked
foggin’! Buckety-buckety! They’s an sharply into her eyes. The pupils were
Injun behint every rock . . . Cain’t hold shrunk to pin-points.
out much longer. . . “Dope!” he gasped. “The poor kid’s
His voice slurred off; the wire went full of dope!”
dead. “I’ll take her!” Knight said excitedly.
“He was either drunk!” English ex¬ “I’ll take her to my home. She’ll be safe
plained in a taxi roaring across town, “or there. I’ll get my doctor to tend to her.
out of his head. Talked like a fool.” He My God! It may be too late now! She
checked the clip of Ronald Lee’s gun. may never come out of it—!”
“I think it’s a trap!” said Knight. “I English helped Knight carry the girl to
think we ought to get the police!” the cab. He helped them inside, then
“No police!” English said grimly. closed the door.
"Not till I know Virginia’s safe!” The “I’ll stay!” he said. “I’ll find Jones—
cab took a corner on two wheels. “How he’s got to pay for this!” To the driver:
come he’s at the theater? Is it open?” “Get going!”
“No/’ said Knight. “I didn’t want to The cab roared away, and English ran
open at all if you weren’t going on. Better into the theater. “She’ll be all right!” he
no show than a half a show. There prob¬ told himself, as he raced through the
ably aren’t three people in the building. lobby and up the stairs. “Knight will see
It’s near supper time, you know.” that she gets proper care.” He had Ron¬
The driver brought the cab to a grind¬ ald Lee’s automatic in his hand when he
ing halt before the darkened marquee. approached Knight’s office.
English flung open the door and ran for The door was open. There was faint,
the entrance. He had gone perhaps five yellow light spilling from a shaded desk-
steps when he jerked to a stop. There lamp. English came to an abrupt halt in
was an odd figure near the alley mouth. the doorway. On the floor near the desk
A familiar figure. .. . was a pair of feet. The heels were down,

I T WAS Virginia Lee! She was with¬


out coat or hat, leaning her shoulders
the toes turned slackly outward. English
stepped to one side. He could see long
legs, then hips. He went still further.
drunkenly against the building. Her Shoulders came into view. And, at last,
knees would scarcely hold her. Her hair the head. . . .
hung loosely about her face. She stared He’d been sure it would be Jones. The
stupidly at the sidewalk, oblivious to the shock of finding it was not, left him
curious stares that came her way. Red breathless, unable to think. He had to
English caught her by the shoulders. look several times to identify the man. It
“Virginia! Please look at me! Great was Joseph Shane, Martin Knight’s
Scott—1” nephew!
24 New Detective Magazin<

Looking at the limp body, English stairs that led stage-ward, when he heard
sensed something wrong, something out a voice calling, “English. . . Oh, Eng¬
of focus. The corpse wore slacks and a lish. ...”
sport shirt instead of the usher’s uniform, The voice was faint. It came from out
but it wasn’t that. It was something else. in the main theatre. Faint and distant
Blood! That was it! There wasn’t any! though it was, English had no trouble
Shane was dead—eyes wide, glazed—but recognizing it. It was Jones. English
there wasn’t a drop of blood on him any¬ climbed to the stage level.
where. He paused at the bank of switches.
Then English saw the hypodermic Pulling several, he drew the curtain,
syringe. He knew then. Shane had died turned the house lights on. The stage, for
of an overdose of some drug— morphine, the most part, was left in darkness. Alex¬
beyond a doubt. Perhaps Shane had sur¬ ander Jones clapped unsteadily, applaud¬
prised Jones in the act of killing Virginia ing. His voice was thick, slurred.
with morphine. Jones and Shane had “Curtain going up,” he croaked. “Cur¬
fought. Virginia had escaped. And Shane tain going up! Take your sheats for the
had received a lethal dose. .. las’ act—las’ act!”
English jerked erect, turning. His eyes English felt his scalp crawl. Jones was
caught sight of a garment in a corner. mad as a hatter! But then he was right,
Though in a desperate hurry, he caught too—this was the last act. English’s hand
the garment up. A stained trench coat! was sweating on the butt of his gun, as he
The buttons were leather-covered. The crept forward and found a peep-hole.
grey felt hat was on the floor. English
hadn’t been wrong in thinking a double
had killed Helen Adams!
A lexander jones was in the
balcony. And by a strange coinci¬
Again English started for the door, and dence, he was standing in the
again he stopped without leaving the mouth of the left exit tunnel—the same
room. place in which he’d stood to shoot Jim
A splinter had been knocked from the Simms! He was leaning weakly against
inside of the door frame. Only a bullet the tunnel wall. The right side of his face
could do that. On the rug just outside the was dark; streaks of that same darkness
door was a dark stain. English touched cut across his face. Jones had a head
it, and his fingers came away red. Shane wound; the streaks were blood. He was
hadn’t been wounded, so it must have waving a forty-five. . . .
been Jones. Shane had shot Jones. And “Lights!” he croaked. “Music! Cur¬
that explained Jones’ weak voice on the tain ! Villain’s got the girl. . . hero enters
telephone. . . . lef’ center . . . buckety-buckety ...”
English looked into each of the offices Jones was badly hurt, staggering, de¬
on the floor in quick succession. He went lirious. Yet that gun was an efficient
down to the mezzanine and found it weapon; he had a madman’s lust to kill.
empty. He looked in the men’s wash¬ English thought it best to take no chances.
room and found it empty. The theater English lifted his automatic, took care¬
was a big place. He decided to look in ful aim—but he did not shoot. He started
the likely spots first. . . . to. His finger closed part way on the
The dressing rooms back-stage were trigger, and then he stopped. A sudden
empty. English looked in them all. His thought had pounded its way into his con¬
heels struck startling echoes from the sciousness. There was something wrong.
corridor floor. He was at the foot of the English lowered his gun.
Enter—<he Corpse! 25

He stepped out of the wings. Jones English vaulted the orchestra pit, raced
saw him and applauded awkwardly, al¬ up the stairs to Jones’ side. The lanky
most falling down. “ ’Rah for the press agent was slumped against the tun¬
hero ... !” He didn’t try to use his gun. nel wall, rocking his head dizzily, mum¬
He swayed drunkenly in the tunnel bling.
mouth. “Speech . . . speech . . .!” “Jones! Where does Knight live?
“Jones!” English yelled. “Jones, lis¬ What’s his address?”
ten ! Can you see the center aisle balcony Jones seemed not to hear. “. . .couldn’t
rail? Answer me! Can you see the spot let that hop-head, Shane, kill ’er,” Jones
where Simms was killed?” muttered. “Ol’ Jonesy’s louse . . . but
Jones rocked forward a step. He lifted don’ go for killin’ women ... no, sir!
his gun and aimed at the center aisle bal¬ Jonesy stuck ’im with ’is own needle, ha!
cony rail. “Yep ... got a dead bead on . . . blooey! Curtains! Got shot . . .
’er, pardner ... !” guess.... Dad ... you dirty rat. .. didn’t
And English was standing in the exact tell me Mom was sick. . . . Where’s girl ?
spot where he’d been standing when Gone .. . call English.. .”
Simms had died. He looked at the red He fell to his side and lay there, breath¬
Exit light behind Jones at the tunnel ing heavily.
mouth. English cursed—a precious half-minute
When Simms had been shot, the killer’s wasted! He lunged for the stairs. There
head had been exactly between English’s was a telephone book in Knight’s office.
eye and that light. But now, with Jones He got the address there, and turned to
standing where the killer had stood, the the stairs at a dead run.
light was on a level with Jones’ chest! Pedestrians scattered when he burst
English said, “Back up, Jones!” from the theater entrance. “Call the po¬
Jones backed. As he went into the tun¬ lice!” he yelled. “Man killed!” and dived
nel, down the incline, the light seemed to into a taxi.
climb. When the light was level with
Jones’ head, English called to him to
stop.
T HE driver started to protest, but
he swallowed it when he saw Eng¬
“Can you see the center aisle balcony lish’s gun, the blazing desperation
rail?” he asked. in the white set of English’s face. He
“Hell, no ...” Jones answered weakly. kicked the motor to life, sent the cab
"Can’t see. . . .” careening into the late evening traffic.
Jones collapsed out of sight. English gave him the address. “You’ve
But English had the truth, then—the got five minutes!” he snarled. “Five min¬
grim, terrible truth! Simms had been shot utes to get me there, or get your head
by a very small man! Jones was tall. blown off!”
Ronald Lee was tall. Even Joseph Shane “Five minutes—!”
was tall. . . Shane! Shane could very The driver made a strangled sound, and
well pass for Ronald Lee—same size, hunched over the wheel, pumping the ac¬
same age, same coloring. . .. celerator. It was a cab gone berserk, a
English’s mind did a groggy about- yellow demon, and the continuous blare
face. He found himself confronted with of the horn shouldered the traffic aside like
a whole new line of thought, a complete a giant arm. They scraped fenders; they
new pattern. One brutal fact leaped out left behind cursing, fuming drivers.
above the rest—he’d sent Virginia Lee to Across the river. Into the quieter resi¬
a certain death! dential districts. Death waited at every
26 New Detective Magazine

cross-street. The speedometer needle she might. No one will guess that it was
spun dizzily; English made a point of not two injections, instead of one.”
watching it. Six minutes had gone by, “You’re mad!” English rasped. “You
before the driver brought the car to a can’t get away with it. What about me?
stop, at last. What about Jones? The police have
“B—best I could do—” he gulped. Jones by this time. He’ll talk 1”
English was already out of the cab and Knight’s face whitened, but his gun
runriing up the walk. The house was remained steady.
white Colonial, set in a wide, green lawn. “Maybe, and maybe not. Anyway, I
There was a light on the second floor, have nothing to lose, everything to gain.
none on the first. English found the door They can only hang me once. In my po¬
unlocked. He jerked it open, lunged sition, even long odds are good. Every
through. mouth I shut increases my chance of
Darkness, complete and unpenetrable, living. I must do what I can, and hope
filled the hall. English had to wait for his for the best.”
eyes to adjust themselves. A moment, two English’s throat was dry, aching.
. . . and then a gun jammed into his back. “You’re the man behind the combine,
“Hold it!” a sharp voice said. eh ?” he said. “You were Jim Simms’ and
That moment was almost English’s last. Helen Adams, ‘backing.’ You’ve wanted
He wanted to turn, wanted to so desper¬ to get rid of them. When Ronald Lee
ately that he almost did—despite the cer¬ broke out, you saw a chance.”
tainty of a bullet in his back. He held “This,” said Knight, smiling, “comes
himself rigid, dropped his gun. under the heading of stalling-for-time,
“Now, up the stairs,” the voice said. doesn’t it? Hoping for a last minute
English obeyed. The man behind him break. Well, I’ll humor you. Yes, I own
said, “Glad you warned me—I could hear the gambling in this city, the race track.
that cab coming five blocks away. Into Simms and Adams wanted to take over.
the study. And watch yourself!” I beat them to the punch."
English turned into a lighted doorway. “You and Shane,” said English.
The first thing that met his eyes was “Ah, yes. Shane is dead—he wouldn’t
Virginia’s limp body lying on a divan. have let Jones call otherwise.” Regret
On a coffee-table near her was a gleaming came ffeetingly to the small man’s face.
hypodermic syringe. English sucked in a “He wasn’t my nephew. But a nice boy,
quick breath, jerked around. all the same. A very nice boy. ...”
“Did you—” “Shane killed Helen Adams?”
“Not yet.” Knight nodded. “I dressed him like
Martin Knight smiled thinly. His soft¬ Ronald Lee was dressed. Jones was a
ness, his timidness had vanished. There big help there, furnished us with the
was a hard look about him. His eyes were picture. You see, it was me he owed
shiny, intent, but cool. There was a bus¬ money to, not Simms. He played along
iness-like efficiency in the way he held his to keep the news of his gambling from his
gun. family. But he balked at murder.”
“The girl has just fainted,” he said. “And Shane killed Henry Goodman?”
“You see, I had difficulty getting mor¬ Again Knight nodded. “In much the
phine, or she would have been taken care same manner—as you have already
of before this. It had to be morphine, of guessed. Ronald Lee makes an excellent
course. The girl will die of an over-dose. goat. I think we’ll use him again.”
People at the theater heard me say that “How?” asked English.
Enter—the Corpse! 27

“We’ll blame him for your murder.” crashed into his knees, hammered him to
Knight’s eyes grew narrow, intense. “I the floor. Anger, fed by despair, by the
shall make a good witness—tearful, hys¬ anxiety of the last few days, exploded in
terical, shocked. We’ll pretend that Ron¬ a flaming curtain that dimmed English’s
ald Lee followed you here to finish the job eyes, that flooded savage strength into his
he started at your hotel. What could be fingers. He caught Knight’s gun-wrist;
more logical?” he bent it out, and the sound of bones
English said, “You can’t get away with breaking was good in his ears.
it—” Knight’s bubbling scream was cut short
Knight was through talking. He by the sudden pressure of English’s fin¬
seemed to realize, suddenly, that he’d gers on his wind-pipe. English heaved
talked too long. His gun came up. His him up. He held the fat killer above his
round, little face was perfectly composed, head at arm’s length. Deliberately, with
his hand steady. Only his eyes showed all the fury a man can feel, he slammed
emotion, oddly, brilliant, shining. He was him down. Knight did not move again...
a coldly efficient instrument of death. “Once more,” Ronald Lee whispered.
English’s face became ribbed with “Once more, for me. After five years, I
muscle. He swayed forward on his toes, have to sit here and let somebody else
hands spread a little. He couldn’t take a have the fun. .. .”
bullet meekly. If it was coming, he Ronald Lee was on the floor by the
would meet it half way. He had to try. door. His left coat sleeve was drenched
Not that he hoped to go on living; Knight crimson; blood trickled across his hand.
was too expert for that. ... “Followed you from the Rialto,” he
A bitter voice said, “Enter, the goat!” said. “And what a ride that was! I

I T WAS Ronald Lee, standing sud¬


denly in the doorway, not far from
didn’t have a gun. Couldn’t shoot the
louse. Couldn’t do anything. ...”
“You saved my life,” English said.
Knight. English was moving when Ronald Lee’s face was white, pleading.
he saw him there, and the impetus carried “Did I? Well, look, then. Does that
him on in a slanting dive. Knight was square us? About that business in the
distracted. Impulsively, probably without hotel, I mean. Virginia would—well,
thought, he jerked his gun up and fired at damn it! If she knew I tried to—”
Lee. That was a grave mistake. “Fella,” English said, “I’ve got the
For English had him then. English, world’s lousiest memory when occasion
two hundred pounds of red-headed fury. demands—and this is a special occasion!”
Kill - and - Tell Kid

A kiss-and-tell girl—a kill-and-tell man . . . and a day when their


trails must cross for the last time.

S HE was humming part of a song as


she sat before the mirror. It was
She was smiling just a little as she
smoothed a wave of her hair—black hair,
one of those once-popular songs that with tiny lights of jade. She had a pert,
you remember on occasion. short nose, and her lips had a laugh in
"And then, the world is gonna be mine, the comers.
This evening, about a quarter to She wasn’t very big, and her name was
nine. ..." Nicki. Funny for a girl. . . .
28
Kill-and-Tell Kid 29

She started the song all over; then she Webber. So. ...” A coin rattled in his
stopped. Not for a reason—for a feeling, pocket. “I dropped by—to get you.”
inside. She listened, and the room turned "Thanks!” Her voice was smoky, and
very still. Then she heard it again—the a little blue storm was gathering behind
tiny little tapping at the door, fingernails her eyes. “There’s just one thing wrong
beating a little tattoo. with that. I’m not going.”
Carl! She knew it before she thought Deliberately she turned away, toward
it—like a cut on your finger, when you the dresser. She sifted a cigarette from
wait for the first red of blood. You the pack and tried to light it casually. But
think, In a second it’s going to hurt. . . . the first match broke in her fingers. In
The tapping came again. Her fingers the corner of the mirror, she watched his
left her hair. She stood up and shook feet behind her.
the pleat from her skirt. Quickly she “Maybe—maybe you’ve changed a lit¬
crossed the room and turned the key. The tle ...” he sing-songed.
door edged an inch, then opened and “Yes, maybe I have.” She turned
closed again. around. "A lot of things can happen in
The key turned in the lock. four years.”
She couldn’t stop looking at him—at his “Like falling for the D. A. that kicked
red hair and dancing brown eyes, at the over the playhouse, huh ? Or maybe he’s
thin line of his lips, and the little line in got a better racket? The reform angle is
one jaw. always good for fifty grand a year, if
“Hello, Nicki,” he was saying. His you’re on the right side of—”
voice was still soft, lazy, taunting her “Shut up, Carl!” she blazed.
ears. “So,” he mused, “the radio snoop-
“Where . . . where did you come hound was right. Little Nicki cuts her¬
from?” self a slice of big-time gravy! She’s going
“From where I’ve been.” There it was to marry Bill Webber, the D. A.!” He
again—the same old way; never an an¬ stopped. His lips turned down in a snarl.
swer, just a laugh and a lie. “But she’s not,” he announced softly.
“You’re glad to see me?” “What do you mean?” she asked care¬
She didn’t answer. His eyes kept hold¬ fully.
ing hers. “I mean, you’re coming with me.”
"You haven’t kissed me,” he re¬ “I see,” she said quietly. She butted
minded. He waited a moment; then his the cigarette, then faced him squarely.
hand reached out. She woke, moved one “Once upon a time I was something.
step back, another. Now I’m something else. There’s not
The line down his jaw turned pink. One much about me Bill Webber doesn’t know.
eyebrow lifted. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t tell him.
“Kind of cold, aren’t you?” He knows about you, and he doesn’t care.
“Why did you come back ?” It stumbled You wouldn’t understand that. ...”
past her lips. She took a deep breath.
“I came back for you.” He waited a “I’m not going with you, Carl. You
pointed second. “I came back because I can’t frighten me any more. I knew you’d
heard the radio last Tuesday.” come back some day. I knew you’d be
“Ohooo,” she whispered. just the same. I knew what I would say.
“I think you’re a little rat,” he said Just one word. Good-by.”
softly. Then he grinned. “But you still “Just like that?” he snarled.
look good to me. Too good for Bill "Just like that.”
30 New Detective Magazii

He walked around the room. He did it “Oh, I. . . . Nothing. Cold, a little,


slowly. He picked up a little vase, and maybe.” She smiled. “I’m ready! See
turned it once around. He put it back. He my new dress?” She turned herself
flipped the page of a magazine. It rattled around.
crisply in the stillness. “Like me?” she inquired.
The breath was gone from her throat. “Uh-huh.” He cocked an eyebrow.
It was one of those times when her eyes “Like me?”
wouldn’t blink; they simply stared until “Uh-huh.” A dimple turned in her
the room became two rooms, and the cheek. “Love me?”
furniture blurred in a mist. It was like “Maybe. A little.” Then he laughed.
knowing she had lit a fuse, and now she “A hell of a lot!” He kissed her again.
couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t run. It was “Let’s go,” he said. “Oh, yes, I want
going to go off in her hands. my gloves, too.”
“Nice gloves,” he said. “They would “They’re right here. I put them out so
be his, I take it.” I wouldn’t forget to—” She stopped. She
His words broke the mist in her eyes. was staring down at the table. The table
He was standing by the table. In his hand was empty. A full minute ticked by.
was a pair of gray gloves. “Come on. We’ve got to hurry,” he
“You let him come up now. Cozy.” urged.
“That’s the only way you could think “Yes, we. . . .” Her words wandered
it!” Then the flood welled over. “Get off. She could see Carl’s hand again.
out! I hate you—everything about you! His fingers, holding the gloves. . . .
I hate what you make me remember. I— “What’s the matter? Can’t you find
Get out!” them?”
“Okay.” He said it too simply—too She drew a slow breath.
softly. The key grated in the lock. The “No. I—I can’t remember, Bill.” She
door opened. was going to say something else.
"I’ll see you tomorrow. You’ll be ready “We’ll get them tomorrow. Let’s go.”
to leave.” She didn’t say whatever it was. Not all
“I won’t!” that evening did she say it. She didn’t
He spun a quarter in the air; then, with know just why. She didn’t say much at
a little grin, he tossed it on the floor. all that evening. A couple of times he
“That says you will, Nicki.. ..” asked her how she felt. Each time she
The door closed and he was gone. smiled. She told him she felt fine. But

I T WAS a quarter to nine. But she


wasn’t humming the song. A place
then the smile slipped away. The spring
in her stomach started coiling tighter. It
was going to snap. Something was go¬
felt dry in her throat. She kept re¬ ing to break. She knew it.
membering. She kept trying to forget. Because she knew Carl. He didn’t take
Then the knock came at the door. Swift¬ those gloves just because he liked them....
ly she crossed the room. At midnight, Bill took her home. She
“Bill! Oh, Bill....” fixed him a drink upstairs. They talked a
“Nicki!” He kissed her. She wanted to little while. Then he kissed her good-by.
hold him close. Strange, she thought. I “Bill ... be careful.”
was afraid that he wouldn’t come, that He looked at her curiously. “Sure.
something.. .. I’m always careful. Why?”
“What’s the matter?” He looked at her “Nothing. I. . . .” She swallowed.
closely. “You’re shaking.” “Just please be careful.”
Kill-and-Tell Kid 31'

She read it in the morning paper. In knew they were his. You killed that man.
the headline. You put the blood on Bill’s gloves; then
you left the car! I know you did! I
DISTRICT ATTORNEY ARRESTED IN know! I—” Her words tangled in her
HIT-RUN DEATH
throat. She sobbed blindly.
District Attorney William Webber was “You know a lot, don’t you?”
arrested at two o’clock this morning in con¬
nection with the hit-and-run death of “I’m going to tell! I’ll tell them where
Antonio Vitois, fruit vendor, who was he was—here. I’ll tell them you took the
killed as he trundled his cart homeward
after a day of work. gloves. They’ll believe—”
Webber’s car was found, abandoned, at “Why, of course they will,” he agreed
the scene of the accident. At the time of
his arrest, Webber alleges to have been mockingly. “You’re in the gossip columns
searching for his car, which he contends with him. You’re sweet on him. You
was stolen. Thus far he has been unable to
explain the presence of a glove, stained with wouldn’t be lying to save his hide, now
the victim’s blood, in the seat of the death would you?” He rocked on his heels.
car. Webber admitted the glove was his, “And it’ll make a pretty spread in the
but maintained he had lost it the previous
day. papers . . . D. A. reform leader was in
Police are today seeking an eye-witness, girl’s room having drink! That’s what
known to have been standing on the
corner— the Waycroft bunch would love. Ever
think of that ?” He watched her.
Gloves! Gray gloves, stained with Slowly the hot fire died in her eyes. She
blood. . . . felt a little chill wave spreading down her
Gloves. . . . Over and over it pounded spine. Now she was starting to see. She
in her head. The pounding became a taunt. almost could see the end. She knew Carl
The taunt became a scream. so well.
“God! God, I know who did it! Carl “All right,” she whispered wearily.
did it! He did it! He—” “What have I got to do?”
Then she stopped. She listened. And He grinned. “Now you’re getting
there it was again—the fingernail tatoo on smart. First of all, you’re going to call
the door. him up. He’s out on bail. You’re going

S HE felt her feet moving. She saw


her fingers reaching to the knob.
to want to see him—here, quick. He’ll
come.”
“And then . . . ?”
The door was opening. He was "You’re going to make a deal. You’re
coming in. going to ask him for those records he
“Hello, Nicki,” he was saying in that took from me when he busted up the
soft voice. racket. And you’re going to get ’em.
He lit a cigarette. He wandered across Then you’re going to tell him good-by.
the room, and paused at the little break¬ You’re going to laugh in his face for a
fast table. sucker; you’re going to tell him it was
“Too bad.” She barely heard his voice. me all along. Tell him you never gave a
“They’ll make it tough on Webber. He’s damn about him. Tell him you’re going
made lots of people mad. They’ve just with me. And then—” He paused and
been waiting.” cocked an eyebrow—“you are coming
“Why did you do it?” with me. ... If you want to save his
“Why did I what ?” skin.”
“You know what I mean I” she threw “I won’t do it! I’ll never tell him good-
out hotly. “You stole his car while he by ! I don’t care what happens—whether
was up here. You had his gloves. You the whole town believes he hit that—”
32 New Detective Magazine

“Okay, Nicki,” he interrupted softly. came back and kicked it away. I. . . .”


“That’s your answer. And that’s his neck. She closed her eyes. Her fingers twisted
Remember when he’s a bum.” Non¬ together. “I’ll hate you till I die.”
chalantly he turned and wandered toward “Call Webber.”
the door. The hinge creaked as it opened. Her feet took her toward the telephone.
It started to close behind him. The crack She began to dial.
was almost gone. . . .
“Wait! Wait, Carl!” she called brok¬
enly. “Comeback.”
S HE knew how she had to say it. She
knew it had to be good. She could
He came back and stood there, waiting. feel Carl, behind the closed closet
For a long minute she didn’t say anything. door. His hand was in his pocket. He
She looked at the window, and at the sun would be listening. And his pocket wasn’t
and the sky outside. At last she pulled empty.
her eyes home. “Come in,” she called.
“And if I do all that, then ... ?” She looked at him as he closed the door.
“That missing witness turns up. He His cheeks were dark with beard, and his
says Webber ain’t the guy that was driv¬ eyes were hollow. His tie was twisted in
ing that car. Then maybe you can turn his rumpled collar. Then she closed her
up, and swear he was up here. It’ll be a eyes.
good alibi then, because by then you’ll be She knew she couldn’t say it if she saw
married to me.” him, touched him. . . .
“I see,” she whispered. "All figured “You heard about it?” he started quick¬
out. Even the witness.” ly. “I wanted to call you, but somebody’s
“And the getting married,” he repeated. been around all the time. I didn’t want
“I heard that.” to drag you in if—”
“So what’s the answer this time?” “Sure, I know about it,” she inter¬
Time marched up in her throat and rupted sharply. “In fact I... I could have
stood still. The room and Carl drained told you.”
away. Even the window was gone, and He blinked. “Told me what?”
the sun and sky outside. She was back, “There was going to be an accident.
back to a hundred days she remembered. You see, Bill, I knew before it happened.”
. . . The day when she first called him “I don’t get it,” he said uncertainly.
Bill; the day when first he kissed her; to “Oh, don’t be a sap!” She took a deep
a night when a drink felt warm; to an¬ breath. Her nails cut against her palms.
other kiss, and another; to a laugh, and a “Where were your gloves? I had them,
moment of heaven. . . . remember? Then they were planted as
As time stood still, it all paraded evidence. Where was your car? Out in
through her head. And then the last of front of the apartment here. Then it was
them faded away. The room was back gone. It killed somebody. But who’s go¬
again. And Carl was there—his brown ing to say you were up here ? Me?” She
eyes and hard-lined jaws. He was wait¬ laughed—a quick, brittle little laugh that
ing. rattled in the room.
“I’ll call Bill.” That was all she said. He stared at her. Then he moved until
“Tell him you’re waiting.” he stood before her. His hands reached
“I’ll always hate you,” she promised out to touch her shoulders. One split-
quietly and softly. “You don’t want me. second she wavered; then she pushed them
You’re just like you always were—selfish. away.
I almost had what I wanted, and so you “Don’t!”
Kill-and-Tell Kid 33

He didn’t. Slowly his arms went down. She froze; her breath drained away.
She couldn’t stand the silence. “Bill ...” she whispered stilly.
“Can’t you say something?” she broke He looked up. “Yes?” '
out. “What are you staring at?” “I . . .” Then a deep sigh filled her
"You,” he said simply. He lit a ciga¬ chest. He was passing the closet. The
rette. “Go on.” frozen moment melted. “Nothing.”
Another hard breath filled her throat. He walked over and stopped in front
“All right, I will! You’re stuck for a of her. He was very close.
hit-and-run death. It’s going to ruin your “So you played me for a sucker! You
career, isn’t it? But if you could be looked good, and you talked good, and
cleared, it would be all right. ... Yes?” you got what you wanted maybe! You
"You’re talking, Nicki,” he reminded. and your two-bit boy friend framed a nice
"There’s a witness. He can say you charge against me, and I can’t get out
weren’t driving the car. I can swear you until I wash him clean! And little Nicki
were here at the time. I can swear your pulled it!” His eyes bit at her. "Am
gloves had been lost. If—” I telling it right?” he mocked.
“Yes? If...” She nodded with her eyes closed.
“Remember when you broke up the “It was a good day’s work,” he com¬
protection business Carl Ramey ran? You mented acidly. “Next time Ill remember!
took some records in a raid. You were Next time I see a girl, I’ll think about
going to use them against him, if you you! I’ll—”
could bring him to trial.” She paused “Stop!” she sobbed.
and wet her lips. “I want those records.” “Yes,” he said, “I’ll stop now.”
“I see.” A moment ticked by. “When They stood there, not a foot apart, un¬
did Ramey come back?” til the little clock on the table became a
“When . . . when I wanted him,” she thunder in the stillness. And that was
forced out slowly. strange, she was thinking—because time
He stared at her steadily—at her face, was dead now.
at her eyes. It seemed that he would never Then Bill shrugged and crushed out his
stop looking. Her fingers tightened again. stub.
She felt a tiny pulse drum against her “When do you want the records?” he
temple. Then he lit a cigarette and crossed asked wearily.
to the ash tray. He wandered slowly on “Today. Now.”
around the room. Near . . . nearer to the “You sound like you’re going some¬
closet door he went. where.”

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34 New Detective Magazine

“Maybe I am.” She kept on hearing up a set of brownstone steps and went in¬
the clock. to a hall. Ahead, a stairway zigzagged up¬
“All right,” he said at last. “I’m not ward toward the top. Carl began to climb.
in the driver’s seat. I’ll be back in an Past the first landing he went . . . past
hour—with the records.” the second floor ... the third. He stopped
Then he was gone. She just stood there. once to listen behind him. Then he pursed
She could hear his steps on the stairs, and his lips. Softly he went on. He turned at
then she could hear them no more. He the fifth floor hall. He went down the
was gone. But she couldn’t believe it. He faded carpet to a door. He took out a key
had said yes, yet.... Somehow, some way and turned the lock. He took a last glance
she had hoped. . . . But he couldn’t do back; then the door shut behind him. The
anything else, she reminded herself stub¬ lock twisted within.
bornly. He strode across the shade-darkened
And now he hated her. room to the closet. He unlocked that door.
The closet door opened, and Carl There lay a boy—hardly more than a kid.
stepped softly into the room. Eighteen maybe. His hands and legs were
“Nice going, baby,” he grinned. bound with wire. There was a gag in his
She began to cry. mouth.

S HE stood in the bathroom door and


watched him. Sheet by single sheet
Carl hoisted him up and pulled him into
the room. The boy’s eyes, dark and fright¬
ened, never left Carl’s face. He was trying
he ripped from the leather record to talk. He was begging with a silent,
book and pushed into the little fire he had gagged shouting.
made in the tub. The flames licked at Carl laughed in his face. He cut the foot
the white edges, then bit in hungrily. The bonds. He loosened the hands.
white turned brown, and then it curled “Okay. I’m taking it off,” he said soft¬
into ashes. ly. “You’re keeping your mouth shut,
The last sheet disappeared. Carl got see?” The boy nodded dumbly. The gag
up and dusted his hands. He turned on came off.
the tap, and the flood swirled the ashes The kid swallowed. He rubbed his lips.
away. The rag had left red wrinkles and little
He looked at her and winked. veins of white.
“All gone.” Carl watched him with a strange in¬
She didn’t answer. Nothing seemed tensity, a hungry delight. His leather
real any more. Her feet seemed far from cheeks twitched in a grin. His brown eyes
the floor, and sounds only half reached took a rose caste, and narrowed into slits.
her ears. His fingers curled open and shut against
Carl passed her and took his coat from his legs. Then he backed softly, slowly
the bed. away.
“I’m going somewhere. I’ll be back at He stopped. Now his eyes were mere
ten o’clock tonight. I’ll have the train cracks, and the rose had turned to red. It
tickets. You be ready.” blazed through the drooping lids.
The way he said it made her want to The fingers now were calm.
scream. “You was on the wrong corner last
He shut the door behind him and went night, kid. You saw too much.” Carl’s
down the stairs. On the walk, he turned whisper had a music of its own. He
left. He walked eight blocks, then turned lingered on each word, putting it all alone
right. Halfway down the block, he turned on tiny stilts of ice.
Kill-and-Tell Kid 35

The boy swallowed again. He wet his away to either side and disappeared past
lips. the window.
“Listen. . . . Listen, mister, I was just Carl straightened.
going home. There ain’t nothing wrong The knob was twisting furiously. The
in just going—” knock was a pounding now. The door
“There ain’t nothing wrong,” Carl was thin.. ..
mimicked. “There ain’t never going to
be nothing wrong. . . . Look at the ceil¬
ing!” he cracked out.
H E SLIPPED the gun away in his
pocket and touched the window.
Automatically the boy’s eyes lifted. In It stuck a moment, then went up.
that instant Carl’s fingers moved with Once more he studied the ledge, follow¬
lazy, effortless speed. The gun was in ing it with his eyes around the far corner.
his hand. He flipped the towel that had A last time he glanced back at the door.
bound the boy’s mouth. It wrapped itself He slipped out the window. His toes
in a spiral about the muzzle. The boy’s found the concrete margin. His shoulders
eyes returned. and head came outside. Slowly he straight¬
Then they saw. They widened. His jaw ened, and the right hand found the gun
dropped. His lips raced after a scream. It again. He did not look down. Very slow¬
never came. ly his left hand relinquished its grip on
Softly the gun barked within the towel the window. Inch by inch he began to
—once . . . once again. Then the echo sidle toward the far corner. His eyes
died through the walls, and the room was never left the opening.
very still. The boy lay on the floor. He heard the pounding on the door. It
Carl unwrapped the towel and threw it faded behind. Then a sharp splintering
down. His eyes were returning to brown rasped in his ears. At that moment he
now. They were hungry no more. Now reached the corner. He glanced around.
they were fed. Perhaps three feet away waited another
Then he was still. Every muscle in window of another apartment. The lower
him froze. He listened. sash was open.
Step . . . Step . . . Step. . , . He clutched the window and jerked.
It was coming down the hall—steadily, Up it came. He dropped inside a room.
slowly coming. . . . A man started out of his chair. “What
Step. ... It stopped! the hell are you—?” He never finished.
It was outside the door. Then the Carl’s gun smashed across his temple,
knock came at the door. Hard! Impera¬ leaving a slow-reddening welt. The man
tive! folded.
The gun inched up again in Carl’s Carl crossed to the door. He listened.
fingers. He let his tongue slip drily across Softly he turned the knob and peered out.
his lips. His eyes roamed swiftly back to It was another hall, and at the far end
the boy on the floor. Then they traveled were stairs. The door closed behind him.
around the walls, to the window. Silently He hurried down the hall, down the stairs
he strode across the room and moved the and to the main entrance. He glanced up
shade a fraction. Five flights below gaped and down the street, then put the gun
the cement alley; he faced the backs of away.
other buildings. He looked downward, his Down the brownstone steps he went,
nose flattened against the pane. Then he and turned. Halfway down the block, a
saw it—a ledge beneath the window. It shout raced to his ears.
was perhaps six inches wide, and it ran “Stop! Ramey! Stop!” He wheeled.
36 New Detective Magazim

His fingers jerked down. From the door¬ and get ’em right. Or—” His voice soft¬
way, a man was coming. A squad car ened to the slightest whisper—“Webber
was unloading at the curb. He saw two will be going to a funeral. His funeral.”
cops. He saw them starting to draw. . . . “Oh. . . ”
He ducked and plunged for the corner. “Are you coming?”
One slug whistled over his head. The ex¬ “I. . . .” She closed her eyes. “Yes,
plosion came trailing behind. Then he I’ll come," she whispered.
made the turn. Down the next alley he
dashed, raced across a side street and HE crossed the long room to the
circled a bus. When the light changed, window.
Carl was gone. “When does the next bus leave
Somewhere a siren was wailing. Some¬ for Pittsburgh?”
where another answered. . . . “Eight minutes. It’s loading outside
now.”
HE telephone rang. Nicki crossed She swallowed. “Give me two tickets.”
the room and lifted the receiver. She fumbled through her purse. The
“Hello?” agent stamped out the checks. The money
“Who’s listening?” came the vibrant changed hands.
whisper. She turned away and stopped a porter.
“Carl . . . !” “Will you take a message to the men’s
There was a soft curse over the wire. washroom, please? For Mr. Cantrell.
“Don’t say that name again.” There was Tell him the bus is ready. It leaves in
a moment’s pause. “Is anybody with eight minutes.” She gave him a quarter.
you?” “Sure.”
“No.” Slowly, without feeling, she walked
“Get this. . . . I’m in the bus station on across the lobby and out the side door.
Seventh. The phone booths upstairs. Get There was the bus, with Pittsburgh on the
a cab. Ride around a while. Change cabs. front. People were already inside. The
Get a subway somewhere. Keep looking driver was at the door. Everything was
behind you. If somebody’s there, shake ready.
’em loose. Get down here. Find out when Strange, she kept thinking. Nothing at
a bus leaves for Pittsburgh. Wait till all is real. Nothing is real any more. After
just before time, then buy two tickets. today, there isn’t a thing in the world.
Then send a porter up to the washroom I’m not dead. I’m just through living. ...
with a message for Mr. Cantrell. I’ll meet “Where is he, Nicki?” the soft voice
you on the bus.” There was a little silence. spoke at her ear.
“You got it?” She spun.
“I heard you,” she started. She stopped. “Bill!” she breathed. Then she re¬
Her fingers tightened on the receiver. membered.
Then she said it: “No! No! You’ve got to get away!”
“What have you done?” Her hands were trying to push him, to
“You do what I said!” make him leave. He didn’t budge.
“Something’s the matter! I know! I “Where is—?”
can tell, the way you’re talking. You—” Then she saw his eyes change. He was
The breath tangled in her throat. “You’ve looking past her shoulder. Something be¬
done something! Carl—” neath his skin seemed to freeze, and one
“Shut your damn mouth!” came the nerve jumped in his temple.
brittle command. “You get them tickets. She knew before she turned. There
Kill-and-Tell Kid 37

was Carl, coming through the door, swing¬ Then she was hearing Bill’s hot words.
ing along with his lazy, panther grace. “You fool! You damned fooll” he was
His glance played left and right. He raging. “That gun was right in your face!
came on. Then he'saw. His foot stopped You could have been—” Then he stopped.
in half-stride. A slow white spread down his cheeks.
Carl’s fingers leaped down. The gun He was seeing the little splotch of crim¬
flashed up, making a gleam in the sun. His son at her shoulder.
eyes were flaming red behind the shuttered “Nicki ... 1” She remembered that
lids. Nicki saw the finger twitch. And she started to smile. Then she went to
then she jumped as the blast rolled over sleep.
her ears. A tiny, cold fire bit into her
shoulder. Strangely, it didn’t hurt at all.
There was another blast, in a different
N OW she can laugh at it all. It seems
a little bit silly, the way she wor¬
note. Then all sounds merged into one ried so. She should have known
thunder. Bill’s elbow kicked against her she couldn’t lie to Bill. She should have
ribs as he tried to get her out of the way. known that he’d catch on that day—the
There was a sharp staccato—the beat way she acted—especially when he passed
of running feet. She opened her eyes. the closet door. That moment, something
Across the drive, Carl was fleeing. He told him. The rest the kid had told him.
was going toward the street, into the No, the kid didn’t die.
crowd. He plunged through their midst “I must have thought you were awful
and into the speeding traffic. There was dumb,” she says now, sometimes.
a shriek of brakes. Tires screamed as they “That wasn’t the mistake,” he grins.
burned the pavement. A cry shrilled, then “But you were saying you hated me.
choked. A huge truck blotted out the You were telling me good-by, but there
space where Carl had been. Its wheels were tears in your eyes. . .
were locked as it slid on across. There Then, perhaps, he kisses her shoulder.
was a still, dark bundle on the pavement There’s still a tiny, white scar there.
when it passed. They never mention Carl.

Would You Recognize Murder. . .


... If you saw it? Probably you would. But suppose
it occurred behind drawn blinds, with no unusual sounds
to break the hush that comes just before dawn—and no
corpse turned up to shriek, “Bloody murder!”
Hal Jeffries did. Chair-ridden as he was, he got to
studying the man in the_flat_across the way^added t

______ _ unusual ever printed,


When the Humphries Drug Co. received at order for the ingredients used by the ancient
Egyptians for purposes of mummification, it g et the Dean off on as thrilling a murder chgse
as the little man with the big Magnum has embarked on to date. MERLE CONSTINER
takes you along for the ride—if you dont m nd a slight case of gooseflesh—in The Riddle
of the Phantom Mummy.
Plus an O'Melveny and Dugan story by
CLEVE F. ADAMS; a Peter Kane story by
HUGH B. CAVE; and an Acme Indemnity Op
story by JAN DANA—to complete an exciting
FEBRUARY Issue of DIME DETECTIVE. On
sale nowl
YOU’LL BE THE
DEATH OF ME!
You’ll Be the Death of Me! 39

Nevada always puzzled him. It was a exactly what he was—a gambler, a wise
country of long distances, of rolling, bar¬ boy, a tough boy. That thought flashed
ren, scrubby land, of desert and mountain, through Conrad’s mind as he gripped
of mines. But most of the people in the Gammon’s hand and saw the white flash
Palomar Club looked as if they’d come of teeth beneath the mustached upper lip.
from Hollywood Boulevard. A lot of “Hello, Conrad. What're you doing in
them had, and Betty Carlysle looked Vegas?”
more Hollywoodish than anyone else in Conrad shrugged. "Nothing. The same
the place. as the rest of these suckers. Just drove
He’d been told to meet her at eleven, over to take a look at the burg and to lose
and the big electric clock on the wall be¬ a couple of dollars at your crap table."
hind the rear bar showed that it was just Gammon’s eyes were black and round
eleven-one. and hard. They looked like marbles. The
She was standing at a roulette wheel, smile never left his tight-lipped mouth,
her small, rather white hand clutching a but he shook his head.
tall stack of orange counters. As he “Why lie?” There was no offense in
crossed to her side his eyes swept the his tone. “You aren’t a sucker, and you
whole room. didn’t drive over to see the dam. If you
The floor boards were old and scuffed don’t want to tell me why you’re in
by the passage of many feet. The bar was Vegas . . .”
old too, as was the gambling equipment. Conrad’s smile matched Gammon’s.
It might have been a spot in any desert “All right, I don’t want to tell you why
town, catering to the miners, the cattle¬ I’m in Vegas.”
men and the desert rats. They grinned at each other, like two
But this club wasn’t owned by an old- strange tigers meeting on the jungle path.
timer of the desert. It was owned by a Both knew that the other was dangerous;
gambler from Los Angeles—a man who both knew that the other had no fear.
had operated gambling boats off the shore After an instant Gammon said, “Make
at Long Beach. yourself at home. Your drinks are on the

R AY GAMMON sat in his little


office at the rear of the room,
house. I’ve got an apartment if you need
a place to bunk. The hotels and auto
courts are turning them away.”
working at a big desk. The office Conrad said, “Thanks,” and moved
was in reality nothing but a glass cage over beside Betty Carlysle at the roulette
from which he could keep his dark watch wheel. He bought a stack of chips and
over everything that went on at the Palo¬ spoke to the girl without appearing to.
mar. He must have seen Conrad come in “Good evening.”
through the front door, for he rose, left Her nod was so faint that he barely
the office and moved leisurely through saw the motion of her head. “I was won¬
the crowd. dering if you’d be here.”
They were having some kind of a fron¬ He told her, “Your two hundred dol¬
tier celebration in Vegas, and Gammon lars said I’d be here. A Conrad never
wore a yellow shirt of heavy silk, a bright falls down on an assignment.”
kerchief, its ends pulled through a carved If he hadn’t been talking to her he
bone ring. His dark hair grew down his might have noticed the men who had
cheeks in two long Mexican sideburns, strayed in through the front door. There
and a big hat covered his dark head. were eight or ten coming in in a group.
But in any dress, Ray Gammon looked But Conrad’s attention was on the girl.
40 New Detective Magazine

He didn’t know that anything had hap¬ a car it was, but his quick eye had seen
pened until a man jostled him to one side something white flutter out of the rear
and grabbed Betty Carlysle’s arm. He window and land in the gutter.
started forward then. He was her body¬ He went forward to put his foot on the
guard, hired to see that nothing happened envelope, the gun still dangling from his
to her, hired that morning from his Los fingers. The cop pounded up behind him.
Angeles office. “What happened? Did you get their
But he took only half a step, for a gun license?” He seemed to realize for the
poked hard into his short rib, and a voice first time that Conrad had a gun. “Say!
which was not pleasant said, “Just take What’re you doing with that? Who are
it easy, or you’ll get hurt.” you? What the hell goes on?”
Conrad took it easy. Long training had Conrad showed him his license and his
schooled his muscles, his reactions. He police card from Los Angeles. The cop
stood and watched while the impossible wasn’t highly impressed. “A private
was happening. The girl was being taken dick.” he said, and there was a world of
out of the crowded room without any¬ disgust in his voice.
one’s being the wiser. Not until they Conrad stooped and picked up the en¬
reached the door did anything mar their velope. He stuffed it into his pocket. Peo¬
progress. ple were pouring out of the Palomar;
A cowpuncher was coming in—at least people were pouring out of the other
he looked like a cowpuncher. It was hard clubs up and down the street. It looked
to tell, with the whole town dressed up like a riot. There hadn’t been so many
for the frontier-day celebration. The people on the streets of Vegas since the
puncher was drunk, and one of the men opening of the dam.
surrounding the girl pushed him out of
the way.
The puncher didn’t like it. He kept his
C ONRAD turned and walked slow¬
ly toward the club. Gammon was
feet and swung, but his blow was short, standing in the entrance talking
and someone clipped him neatly behind to the chief of police through one corner
the ear with a blackjack. The puncher of his mouth. He nodded and introduced
went down. The lookout at the first table Conrad. They went on talking, and Con¬
yelled. rad retreated to one comer of the deserted
All sound in the room ceased. The man bar.
who had been pressing the gun against
He pulled the letter from his pocket,
Conrad’s side was gone, and Conrad
opened it and read:
leaped toward the door.
Other people had the same idea. Other Dear Betty: It’s all set for tonight. The
people were in his way. Conrad was used boys are all lined up. They’ll kidnap you
from the Palomar Club at eleven-thirty.
to crowds. He used his shoulders and el¬ We don’t want to leave anything to chance,
bows freely. He managed to get through so have somebody with you—somebody who
and burst out of the entrance just as two can tell the cops that you’ve been snatched.
It isn’t smart to use one of your friends,
cops came running up the sidewalk, but so you’d better go down to the Coast
he was too late. Agency and hire Bert Conrad. Hire him to
go over to Las Vegas as your bodyguard.
The car was already pulling away from One of the boys will stick a gun in Con¬
the curb. He jerked his gun free and rad’s ribs. We’ll try to get you out of the
place without anyone’s knowing there’s
sent a shot after it as it went swinging trouble, but we want to be certain that
around the corner. He’d only had a glance Conrad knows you’re gone, so he can tell
your uncle. Your uncle should be ready to
at it. He couldn’t even tell what kind of kick in with the ransom, especially since he
You’ll Be the Death of 41

needs you before the stockholders’ meeting out of his pocket and showed it to the
next week to sign those proxies.
Nick. small police chief, but a natural dislike
of the police kept him from it. He’d had
Conrad read the letter twice. When he a lot of trouble with cops in his day, ever
stuffed it back into his pocket his eyes since he’d opened his own agency. A doz¬
were smoldering. As soon as he got back en times they’d tried to put him out of
to Los Angeles, he meant to have a long business, and he hesitated now.
heart-to-heart talk with Nick Bromeley. “She’s Betty Carlysle,” he said. "Mar¬
He had no doubt as to who had signed tin Foster’s niece.”
that letter. He’d known Nick Bromeley The men exchanged glances. No one
for several years, a mining promoter, needed to tell them who Foster was. He’d
cunning, smart, a good looking man of operated mines all over the world. He was
thirty-five. Yes, he’d have a talk with about the biggest thing in the mining
Nick, but at the moment his attention was business.
diverted by the arrival of Gammon and The police chief swore under his breath.
the chief of police. “This is a nice thing! A swell advertise¬
The chief was small and round, and in¬ ment for Vegas. The guys that pulled
clined toward flesh. Conrad guessed that this must be crazy. They haven’t got a
he was about sixty, a shrewd man, with chance. They can’t get out of town even.
deep sun-wrinkles at the corners of his These city crooks come over here and
gray eyes. think we’re easy pickings, but what they
They came directly toward where Con¬ forget is that it’s four hundred miles to
rad was standing, and Gammon said with¬ Reno, three hundred to L. A. and farther
out preamble, “Who was she, Bert? I saw to Salt Lake. The state police’ll pick them
you talking to her.” up on the road some place. Don’t worry
For the barest instant Conrad hesitated. about it, Conrad.”
He'd been made a sucker by Nick Brome¬ Conrad shook his head. “Fm not wor¬
ley and the dame. He’d been hired to ried about it,” he said. “Why should I?"
broadcast their fake kidnaping, and he The police chief looked surprised.
didn’t like it. He almost pulled the letter “Isn’t she with you?”
42 New Detective Magazin<

Conrad stalled. “Well—in a way. In a and shoved it down into the space between
way she’s with me, and in a way she’s the seat and side upholstery, but he was
not. If you mean, did I drive her over too late to get his gun out. The car nosed
from Los Angeles, the answer is no. I over, pinching off the cab between its
just happened to meet her here.” black snout and the curb.
The cop looked uncertain. “Then who It had hardly stopped rolling before
came with her? Where’s she staying?” the rear door was jerked open. A big
“That,” Conrad told him, “I don’t hand came in, caught the front of Con¬
know. My social standing isn’t good rad’s coat and dragged him from the cab.
enough to run around with Betty Carlysle. He tried to swing at the other’s face, but
I just happened to know her. I just the man was too strong. His arms were
happened to meet her in the club.” smothered at his sides by his captor’s
He was lying, and he had the sudden grip, and he was pitched headlong onto
sense that Ray Gammon knew he was the floor of the black car.
lying. He saw the man’s small round Someone put a foot on his neck, and a
black eyes intent on his face, but he paid harsh voice told him to take it easy. Con¬
no attention. rad lay perfectly still. The car whirred
He said to the chief, “I’m at the El into motion. He judged that they had
Dorado auto court, cabin five. If there’s traveled a dozen blocks, then speed slack¬
anything I can do, let me know.” He ened. Someone bent forward, got his gun
turned and walked away, knowing that and ran quick hands over his pockets.
they were watching him. A disappointed voice said in the dark¬

T HERE was a cab parked down


the street. He moved toward it,
ness. “The letter the girl dropped ain’t
here. You sure Conrad picked it up?”
The second voice answered, “I saw
pulled the door open and climbed him pick it up. Where is it, Conrad?”
in. The driver looked at him expectantly. Conrad grunted, “If you mean that
Conrad found a five-dollar bill, creased envelope I got from the gutter, I gave it
it the long way and slid it in the man’s to Gammon.”
hand. Someone sucked in breath sharply.
“I want to make a phone call,” he said, “The hell you did!”
“and I want to make it from some place There was a muttered conference in the
where everyone in town won’t know I’m front seat.
doing it.” Finally a voice asked, “Did you read
The driver looked at the bill, at Con¬ what was in it?”
rad, and then he grinned. “I’ve got a Conrad shook his head. "No.”
phone at my place.” He was young and The same voice asked, “What’d you
red-headed, with a liberal sprinkle of tell the cops?”
freckles across a red skin. Conrad shrugged. “Nothing much.
Conrad said, “Swell. Let’s go.” What could I tell them? They told me.
The cab pulled out, turned right at the They said you guys didn’t have a chance
first corner, leaving the business district to get out of town. They said the state
behind, and then turned in a dark resi¬ police would pick you up on the road,
dential street. The lights of a car turned that it’s a million miles across the desert
into the street directly behind them. Some to any place from this joint.”
sixth sense warned Conrad. There was more conference in the front
Even as the big car ranged up at their seat. Finally a voice said, "Listen, Con¬
side he jerked the letter from his pocket rad. We’re going to take you to a phone.
You’ll Be the Death of Me! 43

You’re going to call Gammon and tell funny, or you’ll never walk out of that
him that you figured how to make some booth.”
dough from that letter. You’re going to Conrad went in and made the call. The
tell him to meet you in the alley back of man stood with the booth door open,
his place. Now make it sound good, and listening. He had a broken nose, and
you won’t get hurt. Otherwise, some¬ someone had pretty well scrambled his
body’ll pick you out from under a cactus, face. Conrad judged he was six-foot-two
if the buzzards don’t find you first.” or three. He must have weighed two-fif¬
The car turned into a driveway and teen, without fat.
pulled around behind the house. Some¬ The club answered and said that Gam¬
body bent down and tied a handkerchief mon wasn’t there. Conrad came out of
over Conrad’s eyes. He was led across a the booth shaking his head.
stretch of grass, up three steps and into “I don’t get it,” he said. “I know Ray
a room. From the smell of coffee, he Gammon. He never turned down a chance
judged that it was a kitchen. They set to make a dishonest nickel in his life.”
him on a stool, put a telephone receiver He was talking to the big man, but his
against his ear. He could hear the faint eyes were ranging around the store look¬
twirl as someone dialed a number. Then ing for a means of escape.
a voice answered, and he asked for Gam¬ There was a display of perfume bottles
mon. on the right. Conrad walked by them.
The club owner was on the phone a With a sudden sweeping gesture he
couple of minutes later. caught up a heavy glass bottle and hurled
Conrad said, “Look, Ray. This is Con¬ it directly into the man’s ugly face. It
rad. You know that letter I handed you? broke with a resounding pop and the con¬
I figured out how we can make some tents of the splintered glass blinded the
dough—some real dough—out of it. Meet gunman.
me in the alley back of your place in ten He let out a yell, clawing desperately
minutes.” He fumbled for the phone, hung at his burning eyes. Conrad didn’t wait.
up the receiver before Gammon had a He dashed toward the rear of the store,
chance to answer; then they led him back went through the prescription room, into
to the car. the alley, across it, over a fence and

G AMMON didn’t show up in the


alley. Conrad had half hoped he
through a littered yard.
He wondered how the gunman liked
attar of roses. He hadn’t had time to
would show up with a couple of look at the bottle, but the smell was plain.
cops, but although they cruised around Most of the contents had spilled all over
the block twice, there was no sign of the him. The first thing was to find a phone
owner of the Palomar. and get in touch with Gammon. He called
Then he said, “Maybe he didn’t under¬ the club. Gammon wasn’t there, and Con¬
stand. Maybe if I call him again— rad left a message.
There’s a drug store over there.” The message was short. “If you like
They hesitated for a moment; then they your neck, get out of town for a few
pulled across and parked in front of the days.” Then he started out to find the
drug store. One of the men went in with cab.
him. He had a hand in each coat pocket, He asked at the first service station
and Conrad knew that the hands weren’t where the cab garage was, and went over
empty. there.
The man said, “Just don’t try anything The cab might have been so badly
44 New Detective Magazine

wrecked that it had come in. But it wasn’t broke. It was an old story, so utterly
in the garage, and he asked the man in simple that there was no kick in it.
charge, “Do you know a driver with red Foster, Betty’s uncle, didn’t like Brom¬
hair and a lot of freckles?” eley, and there would be no dough for
The man nodded. “Sure. His name’s the kids if they married, no dough for
Stoner. What’s the matter? What’s the eight years, and eight years was a long
beef?” time. But if, with this fake snatch, they
Conrad told him, “No beef. I just left could get the old uncle to kick through
something in his cab. Here’s my address. with a hundred grand, that would last
If he comes in, tell him to get in touch them a long time, even after they’d paid
with me.” off the hoodlums they’d hired to make
He went down the street. Every cab he this snatch look real.
saw he stopped and asked the driver about The more he thought about it the mad¬
Stoner. The third one he asked nodded. der Conrad got. They’d put him in a hell
“Yeah, I saw him. He’s got a bent of a spot. If he turned in a fake kidnap¬
mud-guard in front. You’re the second ing for the real thing;- the department of
guy that’s been asking about him.” justice boys would never believe that he
Conrad started. “The second?” hadn’t been in on the whole business. It
The driver nodded. “Yeah. Some guy would mean the loss of his license. It
stopped me a few minutes ago. Just as might even mean a jail term.
we were talking, Stoner drove by. I The smart thing would be to tell the
flagged him down and this guy got into cops all about it, but on the other hand
his cab. They drove off somewhere.” he’d accepted two hundred bucks from

C ONRAD turned away, walking di¬


rectly toward the telephone office.
the girl to act as her bodyguard. That
made her his client, and you were sup¬
posed not to talk about your client’s
He was a big man, heavy through business. It was a nice question of ethics,
the shoulders, flat at the flanks, with the and ethics bothered Conrad. He still had
oddly stiff-legged walk of a trained ath¬ a conscience, even after years as a private
lete. He had started out to be a lawyer, agent.
but the depression had turned him into He went into the phone office and put
a private detective. His usually sleepy ex¬ through a call for Bromeley at the latter’s
pression, his mussed hair and his untidy Beverly Hills home.
clothes, gave him a stupid appearance. The man’s voice didn’t sound sleepy
He wasn’t, as a great many people had when he answered, and Conrad said
found out. But at the moment he was angrily, “Betty’s kidnaped, Nick. It
stumped. worked.”
His first reaction had been to get into Bromeley tried to sound surprised.
his car and drive back to Los Angeles, but “What the hell are you talking about?”
he decided not to. He didn’t like this set¬ Conrad was savage. “Listen, pal. Phone
up. It was perfectly obvious what was wires have ears, and I’m not putting my¬
happening. He didn’t need anyone to tell self on the limb by talking out of turn,
him. Gossip had told him that. but I know one thing—you better get on
Betty Carlysle was worth ten million a plane and get on one quick. And get
dollars—ten million when she reached her over here, because if you’re not here in
thirtieth birthday, but that was a good about four hours, I’m going to start talk¬
eight years away, and she wanted to ing all over the place.”
marry Nick Bromeley and Nick was He hung up without giving Bromeley
You’ll Be the Death of Me! 45

a chance to answer, and he was raging about a cab driver named Stoner a couple
when he turned away from the phone. of hours ago?”
But he was not so angry that the thought Conrad nodded. “Yeah.”
of sleep was entirely divorced from his The chief said: “Then you found him?”
mind. Conrad shook his head. “I didn’t.”
He got his car and drove out to the The cop’s eyes didn’t change, neither
auto court, walked into the cabin and went did his manner. His voice sounded like a
to bed. Let Nick Bromeley and the girl dry wind blowing across desert leaves.
take care of things. After all, it was their “You better be able to prove that, son.
party. They’d thought it up all by them¬ Stoner’s dead.”
selves. Conrad swore under his breath. He
wasn’t exactly surprised, but in a way he
CHAPTER TWO was. After all, this kidnaping was a phony,
and phony parties didn’t call for murder.
Killer’s Ransom That was carrying the act a little too far.
The police chief said, “Why were you
ONRAD hadn’t been asleep more
looking for Stoner?”
than two hours when someone
Conrad sighed. “All right, I’ll talk. I
pounded heavily on the door and a
should have told you before this, but I
voice came hoarsely through the panel.
had a client. I wasn’t in on the gag. The
“Come on, Conrad! Open up! We
kidnaping was a fake. She and Nick
know you’re in there. Open the door,”
Bromeley pulled it together. They hoped
Bert Conrad dragged himself out of to get out of the club without any trouble,
bed. His eyes were still so sleep-heavy and then I was supposed to run to the
that it made him dizzy. He stumbled over cops screaming that there’d been a kid¬
a chair, just managed to save his balance, naping, so that her uncle would kick
fumbled and found the light. through with a hundred thousand ran¬
The police chief and two other cops som. But it went sour. First that drunken
were standing on the doorstep outside. cowboy balled their play up at the door,
They all came in. The men with the chief and then the kid dropped a letter which I
were big. They pretty well filled the room. picked up.”
The chief’s gray eyes had lost their The little police chief’s eyes glittered.
friendliness. They were hard now, cold “Was that the letter you called Gammon
as a sheet of cloudy ice. about?”
He said, “Weren’t you asking questions Conrad nodded. “Yeah. A couple of
46 New Detective Magazii

these kidnap mugs grabbed me. All I had and they got back into the car. There
time to do was shove the letter down be¬ wasn’t any light in cabin five when they
hind the seat of Stoner’s cab. I told them pulled up before the court, and there was
Gammon had it. If you’ll look down be¬ no sign of Bromeley.
hind the seat of the cab, you’ll find the Conrad sat down on the step and lit
letter.” a cigarette. The match flared up, making
The police chief nodded. “They already a small finger of light in the darkness,
found it.” He pulled the letter out of his and in the light he saw something which
pocket. “You’re kinda in a spot, Conrad.” he hadn't seen before.
Bert Conrad stiffened. “What do you Shrubbery made a dark clump before
mean—I’m in a spot? I didn’t have any¬ the cabin door, and out of that clump pro¬
thing to do with this. Bromeley and the truded a man’s shoe. Conrad rose unhur¬
gal thought up the whole party.” riedly, cupping his hand to protect the
The police chief said, “Where’s Brom¬ flickering flame of the match, and took a
eley?” couple of steps toward the shrubbery.
Conrad said, “He’s supposed to be fly¬ Then he stopped.
ing in from L. A. He ought to be in now. There was a leg attached to that foot—
Let’s go out to the airport and see if he’s a leg covered by dark cloth.
landed.” He parted the bushes, calling over his
The chief nodded, and Conrad climbed shoulder to the police chief, “Got a light ?”
into his clothes. The man had a pencil-flash. He knifed

T HEY drove to the airport in si¬


lence, no one feeling much like
the small beam into the dark shadow, the
white glow picking up the whiter skin of
Nick Bromeley’s face. Blood came out of
talking. There was a small two- the hair above the temple to seep down
seater pulled up beside the hangar, a pilot the left side of the face in a drying stream
in a leather jacket leaning against one of of dark crimson.
the wings. The little police chief pushed Conrad
He came forward as they drove in, out of the way and knelt beside the body,
and Conrad asked, “You don’t happen to crowding in under the branches. When
be from L. A.?” he straightened his face was grave.
The pilot nodded. “I’m not from any “The man’s dead,” he said. "He’s been
place else, brother.” dead for some time—maybe three-quar¬
Conrad said, “Did you fly a guy named ters of an hour.”
Bromeley down here?” Conrad was doing some figuring. The
The pilot nodded again. “Yeah. We pilot had said that Bromeley had left the
got in twenty minutes ago.” airport twenty minutes before they
Conrad looked around, and his irrita¬ reached it. That would mean that the
tion got the better of him. “Then where man had been killed almost as soon as he
the hell is he?” reached the auto court. He wet his dry
The pilot shrugged. “I don’t know. He lips.
got a cab and rode uptown. I heard him “Well, Chief, this is one killing they
tell the driver to take him to the El Do¬ can’t hang onto me.”
rado auto court.” The police chief looked at him. "May¬
Conrad turned back toward the police be,” he said. “It takes about ten minutes
car. “We must have just missed him. The to drive each way from the airport to
guy’s probably waiting at my place.” here. That pilot might have been wrong
The police chief didn’t say anything, a few minutes in his guess. Maybe Brom-
You’ll Be the Death of Mel 47

eley got here just before we did. You Foster’s power. This man could be most
killed him and then put on the sleepy act ruthless and terrible if he chose. The rec¬
when we arrived. ” His voice was coid, un¬ ord of his life was a record of men broken
compromising. in trying to oppose him.
Conrad started to say heatedly, “You’re Conrad forced his attention toward the
nuts,” and then he stopped. There wasn’t police chief. “None of you will believe
any use arguing. Instead he turned, un¬ me.” He sounded weary. He was weary.
locked his cabin door and walked in. He’d left Los Angeles at noon on the pre¬
It was a small place—a bedroom, bath ceding day. It had been a hundred and
and kitchenette. There was a table at the twenty-five at Baker. He’d only had time
end of the kitchenette. He walked in and to take a shower and change clothes be¬
turned on the light. He wanted a drink fore going to the club to meet Betty Car-
badly. There wasn’t anything but water. lysle.
He crossed to the sink; then he stopped. He said, “I’m not in this. I never was.
From the corner of his eye he had seen The Carlysle girl came into my office yes¬
something under the edge of the kitchen terday morning. She said she had to go to
table. That something was a wooden po¬ Vegas to meet a man, that she wanted
tato masher, and one whole side of it was someone she knew in town in case of
spattered with a dark-crusted something trouble. She didn’t say what kind of
which he knew must be blood. He turned trouble. I got the idea that maybe it was
and saw the police captain was also star¬ an elopement, that she was beginning to
ing at the potato masher; then the man’s have doubts, that she thought perhaps she
eyes came up to meet those of Conrad. might change her mind when the time
“I think,” he said, “that you and me came for the marriage, and she wanted
got a date downtown.” me there in case her prospective bride¬

T HE office of the police chief was a


crowded, smoky room whose walls
groom got tough about it. That was just
my own idea. She didn’t say anything.
She just gave me two hundred dollars to
threatened to bulge with the num¬ drive to Vegas and to meet her at the
ber of its occupants. There was an assist¬ Club Palomar at eleven o’clock.”
ant district attorney, a man with iron-gray He realized that his words weren’t mak¬
hair whose name was Lord, and a second * ing any impression on the listening men,
gray-haired man whom Conrad recog¬ that Foster’s face was a mask, that the
nized as Martin Foster, Betty Carlysle’s police chief was scowling, but he’d said
uncle. all he could say. There wasn’t any more
He didn’t conceal his surprise. “Why, to be said.
sir, where’d you come from?” The police chief pulled the letter from
Foster’s eyes were cold and blue and his pocket and read it out loud. “Is that
penetrating. the letter you found in the gutter?”
He said, “I was in Tonopah on busi¬ Conrad nodded.
ness. I flew my own plane down as soon Foster said in his chipped, careful voice,
as my L. A. attorney wired me what had “Has it occurred to you, Chief, that Con¬
happened. I got here a few minutes ago.” rad may be lying? We have only his word
There was no friendliness in his voice. about this letter. Don’t you think it might
“They tell me that this kidnaping was a be a real kidnaping, that Conrad was in
fake and that you were in on it.” on it, that something misfired, that he
Conrad had a weak feeling at the pit of wrote this letter or had it written to try
his stomach. He had no illusions about to cover up? If that were true, it might
48 New Detective Magazim

explain Bromeley’s death, wouldn’t it? in their owners’ hands, covering the men
“Conrad would know that as soon as in the room.
you could get in touch with Bromeley, The leader said, “Okay, boss. What’ve
Nick would deny writing that letter, they been doing—beatin’ you up? We’ll
therefore Conrad might have telephoned fix that.”
him and told him that my niece was miss¬ Conrad eyed them narrowly. “Are you
ing. Naturally Nick would fly over here talking to me?”
as fast as he could, since he was in love One of the men laughed behind the
with her. It would have been a simple handkerchief. “Sure. Stop stalling, Bert.
thing for Conrad to be crouched in the These punks are onto you anyway. Come
bushes with that potato masher, to kill on, let’s scram.”
Bromeley as he came up to the auto court. Conrad hesitated-, his eyes ranging
He probably intended to move the body, around the room, seeking help. One of
but you and your men arrived so soon the men had come up by his side, and he
that he had no chance.” could feel the heavy pressure of the fron¬
The police chief nodded. “I thought of tier model Colt against his ribs. His big
that myself, Mr. Foster. All right, Con¬ body screened the gun from the men in
rad, where’s the girl?” the room.
Conrad opened his mouth. Anger was “Let’s go,” his supposed friend said
burning up through him, deadening the softly. “Tony, take the rest of these guys
tired feeling which had swept over him, downstairs and lock them up in one of
burning it out, but there was nothing he their own cells. Snap it up, Conrad. We
could say in his own defense, and he haven’t got all night.”
clamped his mouth tight shut. Conrad stepped out into the hall. The
One of the cops grabbed him from be¬ black car was drawn up at the rear door
hind and slapped him smartly across the of the jail. He got into it. The other men
nose. “Come on, Conrad. This isn’t L. A. came running out a minute later, and the
This is Vegas. We know how to handle car started off into the night.
tough guys.” He wasn’t certain which direction they
Conrad’s nose hurt like hell. He could took. Again he was lying on the floor of
feel something running from one nostril the car with a man’s foot on his neck. He
and knew it was bleeding. He threw a was very tired of that floor and even more
sharp short punch and knocked the man tired of that foot. If he ever got a chance
back across the desk. Two others grabbed to take a crack at the man, he meant to
him. make it a good one.
The police chief said, “Take him out The road got rougher; the car bumped
and lock him up. If you’re smart, Conrad, through chuckholes, went into second
you’ll talk. It’ll be easier on you.” gear and ground up a washboard grade.

T HEY opened the door to shove


him through, but they didn’t, for
After three-quarters of an hour it pulled
to a stop. The foot was lifted from Con¬
rad’s neck. Someone jerked him to his
there were three men outside— feet and he found himself standing beside
three men, the lower part of whose faces the car.
were covered by tight-drawn handker¬ Off to the right, the bare outline of a
chiefs. In the festival regalia which they mountain showed against the light from
wore, they looked like old-time Western the eastern sky. A mill climbed up the
bad men. Each had two open holsters, but hill in a succession of slanting roofs, and
the holsters were empty. The guns were an ore dump was directly before him.
You’ll Be the Death of Me! 49

The minute he stepped into the house he CHAPTER THREE


smelled an almost overpowering odor of
Bill for Murder

T
perfume, and he saw the broken-nosed
man of the drug store seated in the chair.
Conrad couldn’t resist smiling. “Hello, ONY pushed his prisoner out
handsome. You certainly do smell nice.” through the door, and they crossed
the rough ground toward the tunnel
The big man sneered. His face was
scarred, had little reddish scratches, and entrance.
Inside there was a light bulb every
his eyes were puffy.
hundred feet, casting a white, unprotect¬
“Don’t be so smart. You’ll get yours.
ed glare on the rough rock walls and
Have any trouble taking him, boys?”
the timbered ceiling.
“No trouble.” They grinned widely,
and Broken-nose laughed, turning to Bert. Moisture dripped in tiny rivulets from
“How’s it feel to be a big shot kid¬ the timbers.
naper?” At the far end, near the heading, Betty
Conrad said, “I don’t see your angle. Carlysle sat on a pile of blankets. Her
What good does it do you?” ankles were bound securely and her
Broken-nose told him, “You don’t have wrists taped tight together. When she
to understand. Take him back in the saw Conrad, her eyes lighted, then dulled
tunnel and tie him up.” as Tony came up behind him.
The man called Tony said, “Why The man pushed Conrad down at her
don’t we just kill him now?” side and tossed a roll of tape into his
Broken-nose shook his head. “You lap. “Fasten your ankles, and make it
haven’t got any brains, Tony. We don't good. .. . Now your wrists. Put a couple
kill the girl until maybe tomorrow night. wraps around them, and then I’ll finish
If we should kill Conrad now, his body the job.”
would be twenty-four hours old, and the Conrad obeyed in silence, and Tony
cops would know that they hadn’t killed finished the job expertly. Then he said,
each other.” “You can yell yOur head off if you want

“SLAVES OF THE UNKNOWN” >;


A V
KThe rocket motors blast out their trail of blue fire—the trim ship hurtles ;«?
Shungrily for the open sky—Professor Jameson is at the helm again!
. . Here’s one more amazing adventure in the captivating series about >J
the most popular science fiction character ever to skipper a spaceship beyond the last $
distant glowing world and into the void of utter night. . . . And now Neil R. Jones pits
the beloved professor’s human brain and mechanical body against the deadliest scourge
of the skyways—while the fate of a valiant people struggling to escape the shackles of the
}♦; ages, hangs in e balance. Here is adventure you
&
| Also In This Issue:
“Daughters of Eternity,” a swift-mov-
ing, dramatic story by James MacCreigh;
;♦! plus outstanding science and fantasy fic-
>; tion by Lyle Monroe, Ray Cummings, Wal-
>! ter Kubilins and many others.
fi
50 New. Detective Magazine

to. Nobody but the devil can hear you nose. He knew he’d have to talk mighty
back there.” fast.
He moved away, walking down the
line of tracks which had been set for
the ore cars. The girl and Conrad looked
H E raised his voice and shouted.
His words echoed and re-echoed
at each other in silence. He saw that she down the long drift. It seemed
was scared, that she was fighting for a hopeless thing. They were so deep in
control. the side of the hill, he doubted if anyone
She told him, “I’m sorry you got could hear him. But he kept it up, and
mixed up in this, Conrad. Nick hired finally he was rewarded by the sound of
these men to kidnap me, so I came will¬ feet shuffling along the tunnel floor.
ingly. But after we reached the mine Tony came into view and said angrily,
they tied me up.” “What the hell are you yelling about?
He nodded. He’d been sore as the Nobody can hear you but me, and I’m
devil at her, but he wasn’t mad any more. tired of the squawk. If you don’t keep that
She was so small, so helpless looking, mouth shut I’ll put something in it.”
and right now she was in a very tough Conrad told him, “I’ve got to talk to
spot. your broken-nosed friend quick. It’s im¬
He said, “I figured out that it was a portant.”
put-up job.” Tony stared at him. “What do you
She said, “B..t we’ll be all right. As mean—important?”
soon as Nick Bromeley finds out that “If you don’t call him,” Conrad tried
something’s gone wrong, he’ll commun¬ to put a lot of assurance into his voice,
icate with the police. He knows where “he’s going to kick the dickens out of
these men are.” you when he finds out.”
Conrad hated to have to tell her, but The man hesitated, then he turned on
he figured that it was better to. She his heel and disappeared down the mine
looked like the kind of a kid who could tunnel. Conrad didn’t know whether he’d
take it, even if she was scared. deliver the message or not. Pie had no
He said, “Nick can’t help, Betty. way of knowing, until Broken-nose ap¬
Nick’s dead.” Quickly he told her what peared half an hour later.
had happened. The big man looked sore as he said,
The shock of his words took all the “This had better be good, or I’m going
remaining color out of her face. He’d to knock some teeth down your throat.”
been afraid she was going to cry. She Conrad told him, “It’ll be good, all
didn’t. right. You’re expecting to get a hundred
She said slowly, “I suppose they had thousand ransom for Betty, aren’t you?
to kill Nick if they were really going to Who do you think’s going to pay it?”
hold me for ransom.” The big man grunted. “That’s easy.
He didn’t tell her what Broken-nose Foster’ll pay it.”
had said in the house—about her dying Conrad made himself grin sardonically.
within twenty-four hours. There wasn’t “And just where is Mr. Foster going to
any use adding that to her worries. But get a hundred grand ?”
he was thinking rapidly. Why, if they The man stared at him, suspicion writ¬
hoped to hold her for ransom, were they ten deeply into his eyes. “What the hell
planning to kill her? It didn’t make do you mean, where’s he going to get it?
sense. And suddenly he wanted very He owns half the mining property in
much to talk to the man with the broken Nevada, to say nothing about what he’s
You’ll Be the Death of Me! 51

got in California. He’s got plenty.” I’d go to them or send them a letter and
Conrad nodded. “That’s right. He point out what would happen if the news
owns some mining property, all right, but got out, they’ll kick through with the
how many of his mines are working? hundred grand you were promised. My
Owning mining property and having only stipulation is that the girl and I go
money are two different things. I’m will¬ free.”
ing to bet you anything you name that The broken-nosed gangster hesitated.
tonight Foster couldn’t raise a hundred “Who would you send this letter to?”
grand if he wanted to. He didn’t have Conrad was lying rapidly. "To Lester,
any to give his niece here. She and Foster’s attorney. He’s heading a com¬
Bromeley thought he was just playing mittee of the mine stockholders to pull
tight, so they pulled this gag kidnaping. the old man out of a jam.”
The reason he didn’t give it was because Broken-nose turned this information
he couldn’t raise it. All mining property over in his mind slowly. “All right,” he
is good for is to pay taxes on, unless it’s said. “It won’t hurt to write him a let¬
working.” ter. Tell him we’ve got the girl. Tell
Tony, who had come up behind Brok¬ him we want a hundred grand. We don’t
en-nose, had been listening. “Say! Sup¬ care where we get it, but if we don’t
posing the guy’s right? Maybe that’s get it from Foster, we’re going to let the
why—” He caught himself as Broken- world know he hasn’t got it, that he’s
nose swore. broke.”
“Shut up and let me handle this.” He
swung back to face Conrad. “Why’re
you giving me this song-and-dance?”
H E fumbled through his pocket,
found a fountain-pen and a piece
Tony cut in, “Maybe it’s because he of paper. The paper was slightly
don’t want to die.” soiled, but he spread it out on the blanket
Conrad nodded. “That’s it, Tony. I in front of Conrad; then he reached out
don’t want to die, and the only chance and pulled the tape from Conrad’s wrists.
I’ve got to live is to show you boys how Bert flexed his fingers. “I’ve been
you can make more money out of me tied up so long there’s no circulation left
alive than you can with me dead.” in my arm. Here, rub it for me.” He
Broken-nose was not convinced, but extended the hand, and the gunman be¬
he was wavering. “Keep talking,” he gan to rub it.
said slowly. “You haven’t showed me He was down on one knee, and the
anything yet.” open holstfcr with the heavy .45 was
Conrad said, “I will in a minute. You close to Conrad. As the man rubbed,
can’t collect from Foster if he doesn’t Conrad yelled, "Rub harder, will you?
have any dough, but there is one way That hurts like the devil. My hand’s all
you can collect. The people he’s in busi¬ full of needles.”
ness with wouldn’t want it to get out The gunman grunted, and began to rub
that he’s broke.” He glanced at the big with both hands. Suddenly Conrad tore
man, but saw that his words had no his wrist free of Broken-nose’s grasp.
effect. He made a sweeping, clawing gesture,
“Keep talking,” Broken-nose told him. jerked the gun loose from the holster,
Conrad nodded. “That’s just what I and rammed the long barrel against
intend to do. His associates don’t want Broken-nose’s side.
it known that Foster’s broke. They’re “All right, my sweet-smelling friend.
trying to sell a lot of the property, so if Take it very easy. You, Tony, drop that
52 New Detective Magazim

gun. I’d love to put a bullet in your dump. But instead of following the
chest.” tracks he turned, climbed the lower end
Tony obeyed. His heavy gun clattered of the dump and sank down for a moment
to the stone of the tunnel floor, and Con¬ to rest.
rad took their extra guns and tossed Their bodies were screened from the
them across to the pile of blankets. He house. He could see men running toward
backed them against the damp wall, the mine entrance; others were circling
turned them around and then walked around the lower end of the dump.
backward to kneel at the girl’s side. The black car stood beside the house,
Walking was torture. His ankles had apparently deserted. If they could only
been bound so long that his feet were reach the car, get into it . . .
numb. Cautiously he worked his way for¬
With one hand he loosened her bonds, ward. Gray light was stealing out of the
and told her, “Take it easy. Keep mov¬ east as the sun crept up above the dis¬
ing your legs. Your circulation will come tant range of mountains. They had al¬
back in a little while.” most reached the car before they were
She managed to smile, but almost fell seen; then one of the men turned at the
when she got to her feet. mine entrance and let out a yell.
He said, “Come on, kid. We haven’t Conrad fired, and saw the bullet kick
got time to fool. Tony, go over to that up dust at the man’s feet. The girl did
pile of blankets and lie face-down. Put not need direction. She’d already leaped
your hands behind you.” into the car and kicked the engine into
The girl used the tape to fasten the life. It was moving by the time Conrad
man’s wrists, then his ankles. could swing onto the running board.
“You’re next, Broken-nose,” Conrad They went bumping down the mine road
told him, and the big man swore. at a dangerous speed.
The girl had one of the man’s arms
fastened when there was sudden sound
in the tunnel.
T HE girl could drive! It was lucky
for them that she could, for the
Conrad, who had been watching her, road had not been built for speed¬
swung around, and the broken-nosed man ing. Apparently the black car was the
shouted, “Watch it, Charley! They’re only one at the mine, for there was no
loose!” sign of pursuit, and after half an hour
For an instant there was silence in they reached the main highway and
the tunnel, then the sound of running turned toward Vegas, driving directly
feet. Conrad swore to himself. He had toward the town’s best hotel.
no idea how many men Broken-nose had The night clerk was nearly asleep. He
at the mine, but he knew that if they came awake with startled surprise when
stayed there another moment, they were Conrad asked for Mr. Foster, and his
trapped. They didn’t even have time to mouth drooped open as he stared at the
finish tying up the big man. He caught girl.
up the girl and started to run along the “Are you—”
uneven floor of the tunnel. Conrad said, “Never mind that. Take
As they reached the entrance, someone us up to Mr. Foster’s suite. He’s here,
snapped a shot at them. Conrad used isn’t he?”
Broken-nose’s gun to fire in return, and, The clerk nodded. “The manager gave
seizing the girl’s arm, ran down the him his own room. We were full when
tracks which curved around the mine Mr. Foster arrived.”
Yop’ll Be the Death of Me! 53

He turned and walked with them to here, you fool. What do you mean by
the elevator. There was no night opera¬ implicating me?”
tor. The clerk took them up to the fifth The broken-nosed man just stared at
floor and along the hall. After four min¬ him. “What are you crabbing about?
utes of knocking, Foster opened the door, We took all the risk. Conrad says that
a tall, gaunt figure in a silk robe. you’re broke, that you can’t pay off the
For a moment he stared at them, then hundred grand you promised us.”
he caught the girl in his arms. “Betty! Foster’s voice was sharp. “He’s crazy!
Where—How—” He took her arm and Why, I’ve got plenty. I’ve got millions!”
led her into the suite. Broken-nose was stubborn. “Then
Conrad followed, and the desk clerk why do you want the girl killed?”
pushed in after them, driven by curiosity. Betty Carlysle uttered a little cry. She
After awhile Foster looked at the de¬ was staring at her uncle with unbelieving
tective. “What happened?” eyes.
Conrad said, “They had us tied up in Conrad showed no surprise. He said,
an old mine tunnel in* the hills. We man¬ “I’ll tell you why he wants her dead.
aged to break free.” There’re two reasons. He’s custodian of
The girl said, “He was wonderful, her trust fund. There’s supposed to be
Uncle Mac. He stood the whole bunch ten million in it. He’s got it so loaded
of them off by himself.” down with gyp mining stock that it’s
Conrad told her, “It wasn’t anything. not worth one-fourth that. Then he
I had to. It was the only way I could wants the insurance. Her life’s insured
prove to the cops that I wasn’t a kid¬ for a million bucks, you know.”
naper.” The big man was interested. “You
She said, “You, a kidnaper? You mean mean, if she’s dead he’ll get a million
that they thought you kidnaped me?” bucks?”
Her tone was incredulous. “You’ll have Conrad realized that he’d said the
to explain to them, Uncle Mac. He had wrong thing. He said quickly, “You
nothing to do with the kidnaping. Why, don’t have to kill her to get the money,
he had nothing to do with any of it.” my friend. She’ll give you two hundred
A voice from the doorway on her right thousand if you don’t.”
said hoarsely, “Don’t worry about that, Broken-nose said shrewdly, “But if
lady. Your uncle knows all about the this guy Foster has spent all her dough,
kidnaping.” where’s she going to get two hundred
The girl turned and cried out as she grand to give me? Maybe we’d better
did so, for the broken-nosed man was go ahead with things as we planned.
standing in the doorway grinning at her, Maybe we’d better take them back to the
the gun in his hand pointed directly at mine and kill them so Foster can collect.
Conrad’s stomach. Take that hotel clerk along too. We’ll
“Take it easy, punk. Get his gun, lose him down the old shaft.”
Tony.” The clerk tried to say something, but
Tony walked around the broken-nosed fear choked him. All he could do was
man and took the gun from Conrad. The babble.
hotel desk clerk stared at the newcomers, “Wait—” Conrad was trying to stall
his face.as white as a sheet; then he slowly for time, but Tony gave him no chance.
sank into a chair. “Come on,” he said, and shoved the
Foster’s voice rasped at the broken¬ heavy frontier Colt into the detective’s
nosed man. “You shouldn’t have come ribs. "Move out of here.”
54 New Detective Magazine

They went along the hall to the ele¬ almost looked as if he’d arranged to be
vator. Foster had the girl, one hand in Tonopah last night so that he could
clamped across her mouth. The hotel be on hand when the thing broke. The
clerk’s legs had failed him and Broken- tip-off came when the kidnapers tried to
nose was forced to carry him. make the cops think I was the head of
They reached the lobby and crossed the snatch gang, and when they let it drop
it, and Conrad turned the knob. There that you were to be killed.
was a wind blowing outside and the door “I remembered reading in the papers
slammed toward him. He stepped into a year ago about your life being insured
the entrance, letting the door go. It for a million dollars. I remembered hear¬
swung against Tony, hitting his gun arm, ing a mining man talk about Foster a
just as Conrad hoped it would. few weeks back, saying that Foster was
He whirled, one hand clamping down in some kind of a financial jam and that
on the big gun, grasping the hammer there’d be a crack-up one of these days.”
and holding it so that it couldn’t be fired. He grinned. “That’s what happened.
His other fist cracked against Tony’s My friend, Broken-nose, told the cops
jaw. He felt the man crumple under the all about it when he finally started to
force of the blow. talk. Nick Bromeley hired them to pull
Foster was handicapped with the girl, the fake kidnaping, but he offered them
and he had no gun. Broken-nose’s arms only a thousand apiece. Broken-nose
were filled with the hotel clerk. He had used to work for Foster, so he figured
a gun, but it was in his holster and he that maybe Foster would pay him more
had no chance to get it. Foster dropped money for telling what you and Bromeley
the girl. He turned blindly, driven by planned, so he went to Foster.
sudden, unreasonable fear, and ran di¬ “Foster told them to go ahead with
rectly into Broken-nose. The three of the kidnaping, only instead of turning
them went down together—Foster, the you free, to kill you. He offered them a
hotel clerk and the gangster. hundred grand for the job. That meant
Conrad raised Tony’s gun and fired into they had to get rid of Bromeley. They
the air, the report booming down the had a man planted in the police station.
morning quiet of the street. The cops were watching all the phone
It was the easiest way to summon the calls through the main exchange. When
police. It worked. The prowl car was I phoned Nick they knew all about it, so
there within three minutes. the gang planted a man at the airport who

L ATER, as he and the girl started


back to Los Angeles, she said, “I
trailed Bromeley to my cabin and killed
him. They also killed the taxi driver in
trying to get the letter.”
don’t know how you ever figured “Poor Nick,” the girl said. “He was
it out.” trying to help me. Neither one of us real¬
He grinned at her, but it wasn’t much ized what we were starting. We intend¬
of a grin. He was too tired to grin. ed to get the ransom, then he was to
He said, “I didn’t figure it all out. I meet me at Vegas—” Her voice broke
let the cops think I did because they were a little— “and marry me. It looked like
so smart. But in reality I didn’t know life would be one great big party, but it
anything at first except that your phony didn’t end that way.”-
kidnaping had gone sour; then I got to Conrad said, “Parties seldom end the
thinking. way you expect them to, especially when
“Your uncle got here pretty quick. It you hold them in Las Vegas.”
The Case of the Hatless
Rider
A True Crime Story

By
Zeta Rothschild
HERE’S a pretty young lady
I to see you,” Detective W. L.
"*■ McLeman told Captain W. O. *
Lyle, detective chief of Wichita, Kansas.
“She says her parents are missing.”

A hat which shrieked murder, a


finger that pointed to the gal¬
lows— Can you follow the clues
that point the way to the smiling
cowboy killer of Mystery Ranch?
55
56 New Detective Magazine

"It’s usually the other way around,” lene Pritchard. “And Detective McLeman
commented Lyle, as he stacked a pile of will see what he can pick up around town
papers on his desk. “Show her in, and here.”
we’ll see what we can do.” Upon information supplied by the
Miss Charlene Pritchard, despite her daughter, the circulars were quickly out¬
woebegone expression and reddened eye¬ lined. The description of the Pritchards
lids, was an extremely attractive young concluded with details of the clothing they
woman. Nervously she plucked at the had worn when they disappeared. Mrs.
fingers of her gloves while Captain Lyle Pritchard had worn a black caracul coat
waited patiently for her to tell him her over a blue crepe print dress. Harry
story. Pritchard was wearing a blue suit, brown
At breakfast the morning of November shoes, dark overcoat and felt hat. Both
23rd, she told him, her mother and father her father and mother wore wrist watches
had made plans to drive to Wellington in and Mrs. Pritchard also had a ring with
the afternoon. Her mother had called for three diamonds.
her father at his store—the Pritchard Their car was a Buick sedan; the couple
Mercantile Company, on North Broadway were known to have taken the road south
—about eleven o’clock. That was the last from Wichita toward Wellington.
the daughter knew of their movements. Within twenty-four hours after the cir¬
She had neither seen them nor heard from cular went out, two telephone calls came
them since. through for Captain Lyle, one from Wel¬
“What have you done to find them?” lington, the other from Blackwell, Okla¬
asked Lyle quietly. homa.
“I expected them home that evening,” A pair of men’s gloves, worn, had been
answered the daughter, “but when they picked up on the highway outside of
weren’t home for dinner, I wasn’t worried. Wellington.
When I got up the next morning, how¬ “Thought you might like to see them,”
ever, and saw their bedroom door open explained Wellington’s sheriff. “They’re
and the room empty, I knew something crusted with dried blood.”
had happened.” “Send them along,” answered Lyle
Charlene Pritchard had phoned to the quickly. “And ask people riding in the
store and asked if anyone there had had same neighborhood to keep their eyes
word from her father. No one had. There open, will you?”
had been calls to relatives and friends in The call from Blackwell was equally to
Wichita, Wellington and other nearby the point. A man had noticed a good-
towns. But again and again the daughter looking light gray felt hat, rather large,
drew a blank. No one had seen or heard just inside a fence. He thought he was
from her father and mother since No¬ pretty lucky since the hat was practically
vember 23rd. new. However, while turning it over he
Nor had hospitals, both in and outside found fingerprints on the brim. Clearly
of Wichita, had any word of the missing outlined on the top of that pearly, satin-
Pritchards. finished surface were the prints of four
Captain Lyle, long before Charlene fingers, and on the underside the prints
Pritchard had finished her story, had out¬ of a thumb, all in a dull, blackish-red—
lined his course. blood.
“I’ll send out circulars, asking informa¬ The gloves had been found on the 24th,
tion, to every sheriff in this part of Kan¬ the hat the 25th.
sas, and in Oklahoma, too,” he told Char¬ Both gloves and hat arrived in Wichita
The Case of the Hatless Rider 57

the next day. Charlene Pritchard shook told Lyle. “And that store, believe it or
her head when shown the pearl-gray felt not, was Pritchard’s own store on North
hat. Broadway.”
“Dad never wore that,” she answered At the store Maness had talked with
promptly. “He wasn’t given to dolling the clerk in charge of the hat department.
up.” Of the six hats the store had bought, only
But when the young woman took the two of them had been sold. One had been
blood-stained gloves in her hands, her lips bought by a well-known Wichita citizen
began to quiver and tears rolled down who, called on the phone, said he still had
her cheeks. his hat.
“They’re your father’s?” Lyle asked “The other was sold to a young man the
quietly. clerk doesn’t know,” continued Maness.
Charlene Pritchard nodded. “Here’s “But what will interest you is this—
where I mended a rip between the third Pritchard himself brought this young fel¬
and fourth fingers of the right glove,” she low to the hat department and stood by
answered, showing him the handiwork. while he tried on hats.”
There was still a question as to whether “Then,” summed up Lyle, “we’ve tied
the light gray felt was tied up with the up Pritchard with the wearer of that
disappearance of the Pritchards. hat, assuming it’s the one that was pur¬
“Take the hat and see if you can trace chased in Wichita.”
it back to any store here in Wichita,” Lyle “Yep, we’ve got that much to go on,”
ordered Detective Joe Maness. “It might agreed Maness.
be interesting to know how those blood¬ Still there was no word of the Pritch¬
stained fingerprints got there.” ards themselves or even of their Buick
Detective McLeman had, in the mean¬ sedan.
time, been trying to build up that last day
of the Pritchards. Had there been a third
party with them? Had Harry Pritchard
C HARLENE PRITCHARD, how¬
ever, had given Detective McLe¬
planned to meet anyone? man the names of friends of her
“I have a hunch whoever is responsible father, and of restaurants where he and
for their disappearance is someone known her mother might have had lunch on that
to Pritchard,” Lyle explained. “If it had 23rd of the month.
been an ordinary hold-up, the man could A number of restaurants and cafes were
have taken the car, their money, and left visited without any results until McLeman
them stranded. We would have heard tried the Pan-American Cafe. Harry
from them the same day.” Pritchard often had a meal here, the pro¬
But if they were dead—and the chances prietor told the detective. Whether or not
were that was the case—then there had he’d been there on the 23rd he wasn’t
been an ulterior motive. An enemy, per¬ sure. But Pritchard always tried to get
haps, or even a supposed friend, for some a certain table. The waiter might remem¬
reason not generally known, had turned ber if he’d been there.
on the man, and had then had to kill the “He was here that day with Mrs.
wife because she knew too much. Pritchard,” the waiter answered. “I re¬
Detective Maness brought back a report member it well because Mrs. Pritchard
on the hat that somewhat supported this doesn’t often come with him.”
theory. The two had had lunch alone, but on
“I went to a jobber here who told me leaving, Pritchard had evidently suggested
only one store bought this style,” Maness to his wife that she go out to the car and
58 New Detective Magazine

wait for him, for she went directly to the somewhere in Meade County. Usually he
door while he went across to the other had a big wad of bills, but not this last
side of the cafe and began talking to a time. In fact, on that last visit, he had
young man. tried to borrow some money.
The waiter didn’t know the young man, Jack, a ranch hand, from Meade
didn’t think he’d ever seen him before. County. Shouldn’t be too hard to trace
But he was able to describe him casually. him, thought Lyle when Maness finished
“Young, I’d say, and right athletic- his report.
looking,” he told the detective. “Was “Suppose you drive to Meade County,
pretty sunburned too. Anyway his skin Maness,” Lyle said. “Maybe you’ll be
showed up pretty dark against that dudish, able to get a line on the man. Especially
pearl-gray hat he wore.” if he’s been flourishing that gray felt hat
That was a break. of his around there.”
“Know anybody who knows that young Still no word of the missing Pritchards,
fellow?” asked Maness. dead or alive, or even of their Buick sedan.
The waiter shook his head. “He came Thanksgiving Day had come and gone,
in alone and I don’t think I’d ever seen when the sheriff of Depew, in Creek
him before,” he answered. County, Oklahoma, put in a telephone call
The two men had talked together a few to Captain Lyle in Wichita.
minutes; then the younger man had asked “We have your Buick sedan, I think,’1'
for his check and gone out with Pritchard. he said. “Nobody in it. The seats in the
Friends of the Pritchards failed to back of the car are crusted with dried
recognize the description of the sun¬ blood. And a piece of the flooring in the
burned young man. But one man did re¬ front has been cut out.”
call that at about two o’clock he had seen “But the bodies?”
the Pritchard sedan parked outside “Not a sign of them,” answered De¬
of Pfeister’s Pool Hall. pew’s sheriff. “I’ll let you know if any¬
“Pritchard was honking the horn hard,” thing more turns up.”
said this friend. “I tried to catch his eye, Now the hunt centered on northern Ok¬
but he seemed sort of angry; he was lahoma. This section is sparsely inhabited,
watching the door as though he was wait¬ too large a territory for the sheriffs and
ing for someone to come out.” their assistants to cover thoroughly. Vol¬
In the pool hall, Pritchard was un¬ unteers were called for and on the follow¬
known. Maness thought he’d make a stab ing Sunday twenty thousand people turned
in the dark. out to scour the countryside, inching over
“How about a guy, sort of rangy, sun¬ the open territory. Hedgerows were cur¬
burned and wearing a light gray felt hat ? ried. Culverts were searched. Every bit
See anything of him?” he asked the pro¬ of wooded land was covered. Even beds
prietor. of streams were invaded by men in high
“His name Jack?” the proprietor asked boots.
in turn. Back in Wichita, Captain Lyle held the
The detective was noncommittal. “Not reins of the investigation. Reports came
sure,” he finally answered. “Like to find through at intervals but they were unsat¬
him. Does he drop in here often ? Know isfactory. Lyle handed them over to re¬
any of his friends?” porters of the Wichita Beacon and Eagle.
The fellow named Jack came in every “Sorry, boys, I haven’t more for you,”
now and then, the proprietor said. He’d he told them. “I’m obliged to you for
said something about being a ranch hand, continuing to ask people to get in touch
The Case of the Hatless Rider 59

with me if they should find anything.” something turned up that makes us even

N O WORD had yet come from De¬


tective Maness, cruising through
more anxious to see Jack again.”
The first week in October Emery
Large, another ranch hand, had disap¬
Meade County in search of the peared. There was money coming to him.
Jack with the pearl-gray hat. But on He hadn’t had a fight with anyone, had
the last day of the month Maness found simply walked out.
a trail that looked promising. He hadn’t been missed for a couple
“Sounds like you’re talking of Jack of days. And during those days Jack
Wisdom,” he was told. “There’s a lot of Wisdom had come into the office and
people looking for him,” the man added. told Johnson he was quitting.
This Jack Wisdom had been working “Got a better job in sight?” Johnson
on the Leavitt Johnson ranch for about had asked.
two years until the last October. Wisdom admitted he hadn’t. “Just
“He’s not there now?” asked the dis¬ tired of staying in one place,” he ex¬
appointed Maness. plained.
"Go see for yourself,” was the answer. After getting the money coming to
Another ranch hand, standing nearby, him, Wisdom had started off.
sauntered up to Maness in his car. The missing Emery Large and Jack
“Heard you mention the name of Jack Wisdom had been friends. It was first
Wisdom,” this second man explained. thought that Large had left with Wis¬
“Heard they found something over at dom, or was meeting him outside.
the Johnson ranch yesterday. Didn’t hear “He said good-by to me,” Wisdom an¬
much, but it had something to do with nounced. “Guess I’ll be running into him
Jack.” again.”
Wisdom seemed to have been on pret¬ “And yesterday we got an answer,”
ty good terms with the men in the neigh¬ continued Johnson, “or at least part of
borhood. He was a good worker. one.”
Wouldn’t have been kept at the ranch One corner of the ranch, seldom used,
if he hadn’t been. He had left of his own had a dry well at the west end. A new
accord. But there had been some gossip herd of cattle was to be kept in that
going the rounds that Wisdom had been section. Mr. Johnson had ordered two
making money on the side, selling cattle of his men to fill in the well, to prevent
to rustlers. any cattle falling into it.
“Did he have any fights about it?” The morning of the 29th, the men had
asked Maness. started to work. One of them had
“No, it was just talk,” the first man stretched himself flat on the earth to
answered. “He was showing too much peer into the well. He wanted to see
money. He didn’t make it here. And how deep it was.
those clothes—that pearl-gray hat you “Lookit, what’s that blue sweater do¬
were asking about.” ing down there?” he called to his com¬
An hour later Maness was having a panion. “Think I’ll climb down and get
talk with Mr. Johnson. it. Maybe I can wear it.”
“Funny you should be here today,” Slowly he had clambered down a side
Johnson commented. “The sheriff of of the well until he saw the blue sweater
Meade County wrote to Wichita asking within a few inches of his feet. Then,
the police to look out for this Jack Wis¬ to his horror, he saw that the sweater
dom. That was October. And yester&iy was partially covering the body of a man.
60 New Detective Magazim

Another hour, and the already badly Maness. “Whoever hid the bodies cer¬
decomposed body of the man had been tainly knows the country.”
hauled to the surface. It had been rest¬
ing on a suitcase, partially filled with
clothing roughly tumbled in. Despite its
A MUCH wider section was covered
on this second hunt on December
condition, the body was quickly identified third. The result was disappoint¬
as that of Emery Large! ing. The only find was a bundle of cloth¬
The corpse had already been taken to ing in a culvert close to Blackwell, in
the undertaking establishment where an Kay County, Oklahoma, off route 177.
autopsy would be performed that day, The bundle held a blue print crepe dress,
Maness learned. its pattern splashed with streaks of dried
“And we’re sending out another circu¬ blood, also a man’s blue suit, brown shoes,
lar for this Jack Wisdom,” the sheriff and a topcoat with the label Felix Cloth¬
of Meade County told Maness. “If Large ing Company, Topeka, Kansas.
said good-by to him, as Wisdom said, The front of the coat was caked with
then he was the last person to see him. dried blood.
We think he knows more than he’s tell¬ “Yes, those garments were worn by
ing.” the Pritchards the day they left Wichita,”
This suspicion was strengthened when Captain Lyle told Blackwell’s sheriff.
the autopsy report came in. Large had That first week in December brought
been shot through the head with a .410 in a variety of rumors and reports. A
gauge gun. snapshot of Jack Wisdom, found at the
“Jack Wisdom had such a gun,” ranch, had been published in Wichita,
friends at the ranch reported. Wellington and Tulsa newspapers. Had
“But what do they think the motive any one seen this man since November
was?” asked Captain Lyle when Maness 23rd, the papers asked.
was making his report. A number of persons thought they had.
It was only a theory, with not much He’d been hitch-hiking down in Garfield
evidence to support it, but Large had County; another thought he’d seen the
probably been involved in the cattle rust¬ fellow in a restaurant in Oklahoma City.
ling with Wisdom. It was Wisdom who Others placed him in Tulsa for dinner
had flourished the rolls of bills. Large the Tuesday of the last week in Novem¬
had never seemed very flush. ber. An attendant at an oil station
And then the two men had been over¬ thought he had refueled the Buick sedan
heard quarreling about money one eve¬ the next day, Wednesday, in Creek Coun¬
ning in the bunkhouse. They had stopped ty.
talking as a third man came in. Perhaps But evidently by that time Wisdom
Wisdom had held out on Large when was afraid the trail of the Buick sedan
the latter demanded his share—and later, was getting hot. Both newspapers and
to cancel the debt, shot his former friend the radio were reminding people daily
and deposited the body and suitcase in of the car and its number, asking them
the dry well, thinking it would remain to watch out for it.
undiscovered. And then Wisdom had abandoned the
All this news about Jack Wisdom was car at Depew, not so far from where the
interesting, commented Lyle. But his gas station attendant had noticed the
concern was the fate of the Pritchards. lean, rangy, ranch hand.
“Sunday there’s going to be another But one development from this inten¬
big hunt down in Oklahoma,” Lyle told sive search brought good results. Wis-
The Case of the Hatlees Rider 61

dom, while at the Leavitt Johnson ranch, ond body nearby, all searchers that could
had let slip that he’d been in many a jam be reached were instructed to concen¬
in his early youth. It was a good tip. By trate on the territry close to this first
examining the records of the reformator¬ culvert.
ies of Kansas, Captain Lyle learned that But even as this large crowd was
Wisdom had been sentenced to a Hutchin¬ currycombing the ground, a telegram ar¬
son, Kansas, reformatory in 1924, for rived at Enid from Captain Lyle in
breaking into a drugstore. Wichita.
The more of Jack Wisdom’s back¬ “Have just had word second corpse
ground learned, the better their chances found in culvert outside El Reno, Ca¬
of catching up with him. That report nadian County.”
from the Hutchinson reformatory had Still a third message was to reach Cap¬
also given the names of Wisdom’s broth¬ tain Lyle that December weekend. Local
ers and sisters, some of them living in authorities had taken over the responsi¬
Kansas and Missouri. It would not be bility of keeping a lookout over the homes
too difficult to track them down, even if of Wisdom’s relations. Over in Jay, in
they had moved since that day. Delaware County, Oklahoma, Sheriff
"And here’s hopin our ranch hand is Curtis had been watching the ranch of
looking to one of them to help keep him Earl Rodeybush, to whom one of Wis¬
under cover,” summed up Captain Lyle. dom’s sisters was married.
The authorities were equally anxious “There’s a young fellow living in a
to recover the bodies of the two victims. shack on the Rodeybush ranch,” report¬
For without corpses, most states will not ed a neighbor. “He stays in all day—and
consider a murder charge. The Ameri¬ from the glimpse I got at him at a win¬
can Legion Post at Winfield, Kansas, to dow, he looks like that Wisdom fellow
which Harry Pritchard belonged, called a lot.”
on all its members to join the hunt the Before dawn, on Sunday, four men sur¬
following Sunday. And the authorities rounded the shack. Through the window
of both Kansas and Oklahoma offered a they saw a man asleep on a cot, his back
twelve hundred dollar reward for the to them. The door was flimsy. One good
finding of the missing corpses. heave and the lock snapped. Another
Fourteen miles south of Enid, in Gar¬ minute, and the sleeper, barely awake,
field County, C. C. Cooksey, a state high¬ his arms stretched upward, had handcuffs
way employee who was combining a day’s snapped over his wrists.
rabbit hunting with his search, saw his
dog dive into a culvert. The animal came
out at his whistling, but after this gesture
A SILENT group sat in on that first
talk with Jack Wisdom back at
of obedience, returned pronto to the cul¬ Wichita police headquarters.
vert. Cooksey, curious, decided to fol¬ “Sure, I know Harry Pritchard,” ad¬
low him in. mitted Wisdom, “but I had nothing to
Only far enough in to be out of sight do with their deaths.”
of passers-by lay the partially-clothed “How come your pearl-gray hat was
body of a woman. found on the route on which they traveled
A telephone call was made to Wichita. on the 23rd?” Lyle asked.
Detective McLeman, arriving in Enid Wisdom answered quietly, “That hat
before noon, made the identification. Here was stolen from me that day in Wichita.
were the remains of Mrs. Pritchard. Ex¬ I don’t know who took it. You can’t pin
pecting, logically enough, to find the sec¬ a murder on me that way.”
62 New Detective Magazine

Of his contact with the Pritchards, tried to sell her a black caracul coat, ex¬
Wisdom spoke apparently frankly. In actly like the one the circular said Mrs.
October, when he bought the gray felt Pritchard had worn that day.
hat, he had paid with a check. Because But even more incriminating was the
his arithmetic wasn’t so good, when the report from the laboratory where the
check was presented, the bank had had bundle of clothing found in the culvert
to return it, stamping Insufficient Funds had been examined. Neither print dress
on it. nor felt hat had given up any prints.
“I didn’t know anything about that “But those tan shoes Pritchard wore
until I ran into Mr. Pritchard on the had been handled by the man who took
23rd at the restaurant. He came over them off those dead feet. And those
and asked me to make good on the check.” prints are Jack Wisdom’s,” read the re¬
“We went to Pfeister’s Pool Hall port from the laboratory.
where I thought I might find some friends Of his connection with the death of
who would lend me the money. But I Emery Large, Jack Wisdom refused to
didn’t. Then I tried a couple of other talk. But twenty-four hours after his
people in Wichita. No go. And I finally arrival in Wichita, he gave a statement
got out of the Pritchard car at Lawrence to Eli Eubanks, assistant Sedgwick Coun¬
and Douglas Streets.” ty attorney. It was a rather vague con¬
Captain Lyle had been waiting for a fession, but it smacked of the truth.
couple of telephone calls. Detective Mc- “I met up with the Pritchards in the
Leman walked in now with a slip of Pan-American Cafe, and he got onto me
paper which he handed to Lyle. for this here check and wanted the mon¬
“Wisdom, explain this away,” began ey right then. He insisted on having it
Lyle abruptly. “Your friend, Emery at the time or sending me to jail. I got
Large, was shot in the head by a bullet out and tried to get the money but failed.
from a .410 gun. And I have here the “The only way I could think to keep
reports on the autopsies performed on from going to jail was to get rid of
Mr. and Mrs. Pritchard. Both were shot them, which I did on the road south of
in the head by bullets from a .410 gun. Wichita.”
What do you know about that?” Wisdom had told Pritchard he had
“That still don’t mean I killed the an uncle in Wellington who might lend
Pritchards, or Emery Large, either,” him the money. So Wisdom had left
snapped Wisdom. “I might as well tell town with them. He had sat in the rear
you now; that there gun of mine was seat, the Pritchards in front.
stolen from me. Maybe it was used to He had pushed the bodies in the bot¬
kill Large—I’m not saying it wasn’t. But tom of the car in the back, travelled with
my fingers didn’t pull the trigger. them until nightfall. Then he had dis¬
“I’m not talking any more,” he finally robed both corpses, depositing the cloth¬
said. “You see if you can pin those two ing in one culvert, then the bodies, be¬
murders, those three, on me. Just try.” fore dawn, in others.
But this bluffing lost its force as the On December 12th, 1933, Jack Wis¬
reports came filtering in to Captain Lyle’s dom pleaded guilty to the charge of the
desk that December day. murder of Harry Pritchard before Judge
Mrs. Clarence Green, of Coffeeville, Harry L. NeSmith.
Kansas, landlady of a rooming house, said Twenty minutes later the ex-ranch hand
Wisdom had spent the night of the 25th was sentenced to life imprisonment in
there. And the next morning he had the Kansas State Penitentiary.
Murder In Fast Company
By William G. Bogart
When a certain sort of copper breaks out on the trail of the man who
has killed his buddy, there can be only one grim answer—bullets in
the night—and a corpse to greet the dawn.

R AIN swept through the streets


and hammered on car windshields,
ally seeking escape from something.
The white-colored Pennsylvania state
and in the gutters water rushed police car cut into the curb and stopped.
along in tiny streams, as though frantic¬ Water piled up in little foamy dams
against the tires. The door jerked open
and a tall, lean man in a trench coat
stepped out into the blustery night.
From inside the car, the man in uni¬
form at the wheel said worriedly, “You’re
certain you can handle this alone, Steve?”
Steve Me Shane stood there on the curb
with the collar of his coat pulled up

His hands reached out, grappling.

63
64 New Detective Magazine

against the lashing rain. His hard, gray ment, and later an ace operative for the
features were a grim mask for his flick¬ F.B.I. And now Walt Crosby was dead.
ering dark eyes. He nodded. Murdered!
“That’s the way it’s got to be, kid,” It had been shady little Danny Nichols
he said flatly. “I’ve got to handle this who had said he could tell Steve McShane
alone. ” about it!
“But if you got in a jam—You know,
Steve, you’re dealing with dynamite.”
“I know.” Steve McShane’s square
A T THE desk, a dull-eyed clerk
stared at McShane and said, “You
shoulders shrugged impatiently. “But if want a room, mister?”
I bring anyone else in on this case, I’m McShane shook his head. "A man
afraid I’ll scare the guy off. The report is named Daniel Nichols was to leave a
that he’s a small-time crook. And those message here for me. I’m to pick it up.
guys scare easy.” You got it?”
His partner inside the police car The skinny clerk studied McShane
sighed. “Okay, kid. Good luck, any¬ through blinking eyes. “Are you Mc¬
way.” Shane?” he wanted to know.
Steve McShane closed the car door “Correct.”
and moved off into the night. His fedora The man reached into a drawer behind
was pulled low over his angular features; the desk and slid an envelope toward the
rain soon soaked the hat and made it flop trooper. “Well, here it is then.”
around the trooper’s somber face. In McShane took the envelope and went
civvies, he was positive that no one would back across the lobby. He noticed that
recognize him on a night such as this. the tile needed scrubbing, and there was
He was glad it was raining. It was a musty odor about the place that grated
late, and the streets of downtown Harris¬ on his keen senses.
burg were practically deserted. Red neon
He ripped open the envelope, quickly
lights of a hotel entrance cast splotchy
scanned the contents of the brief note
crimson color across the sidewalk. The
tucked inside. It read:
rain kept coming down.
McShane turned down the first side
Don’t think this is a runaround. I’ve got to
street, proceeded perhaps half a block, be careful. Somebody might be following
then abruptly turned into the lobby of me. Go to the Greyhound bus terminal and
ask for letter at ticket window. Be care¬
a second-rate hotel. ful!
It was here that he was to pick up the
first message from Danny Nichols. That McShane swore with impatience,
had been the arrangement. And there was crammed the note into his trench coat
a special reason for Steve McShane’s pocket and hurried out into the night. He
making the contact while in plainclothes knew there was nothing he could do but
and off duty. He was a cop through and follow instructions. It was quite evident
through. Any kind of a deal involving a that Danny Nichols knew something—
character such as Danny Nichols made his and was covering his trail well.
skin crawl. Danny Nichols—underworld McShane could understand that. Those
tipster, small-time crook, fink I who had murdered his pal, Walt Crosby,
But that’s the way it had to be. Be¬ were killers who worked with vicious effi¬
cause Danny Nichols knew about Walt ciency. And now Danny Nichols was
Crosby, Steves’ best friend. Walt, who taking no chances of getting them on his
had been the best copper in the depart¬ trail.
Murder in Fast Company 65

The walk to the bus station was a short tween floors. The seventh floor hallway
one. McShane turned into a waiting room contained old red carpeting that was worn
five minutes later. Rain dripped from the thin.
ends of his coat and left a trail behind him Steve McShane paused a moment, wait¬
as he moved across the room. A few ing to make sure that" the elevator opera¬
weary-looking people sat on benches and tor returned to the ground floor. When
anxiously watched the clock. the floor indicator showed that he had,
At the ticket window, Steve McShane McShane started down the hall, moving
said quietly, “A friend was to leave a quietly on lithe legs. He stopped before
letter here for me.” He gave his name. the door of 733. He knocked quietly.
“You got anything?” There was no answer.
The clerk’s eyes brightened. "Oh, yes, He grasped the doorknob of 733 and
I remember. He was in here about half eased into the dark room. Instantly he
an hour ago.” was rigid with shock. Steve McShane
McShane glanced around as the clerk knew, suddenly, that there was death here
reached toward a desk. His quick sharp in this room 1
eyes missed no detail, even took in the He eased the door closed behind him,
sidewalk outside the big windows. But ran his right arm along the wall in a
as far as he could tell, no one was watch¬ search of the light switch.
ing him, or even loitering nearby. He His fingers found a button and flicked
was certain no one was on his trail. it downward. A saffron-pale glow from
“Here you are, sir,” said the clerk. a dirty electric bulb in the ceiling cast
dismal rays around the room. McShane’s
McShane nodded, took the envelope,
eyes traveled to the limp, thin figure
stepped toward the washroom. The place
sprawled on its back across the bed. A
was deserted. He glanced at the words
tense, weary sigh escaped from his taut
Danny Nichols had hastily written.
lips.
I got a room at the Elite Hotel, just down Little Danny Nichols wasn’t going to
the street. If you’re sure you ain’t being tell him anything about his friend’s mur¬
followed, then come up. Room 733. Be der, ever. Because Danny Nichols was
sure you’re alone.
dead!
Well, this was it, McShane thought. Someone had gone to work on Danny
The end of the cockeyed trail. In a few with a knife. It wasn’t a pleasant sight.
moments he hoped to hear the name of His throat was slashed, and McShane
the person or persons responsible for could see that the small-time crook had
Walt Crosby’s death. And he was positive been stabbed in the back first, probably
that little Danny Nichols was going to the first attack as the killer had slipped
tell him. He was going to tell him for into the room.
one very good reason. McShane’s restless dark eyes swiftly
Steve McShane wasn’t the kind of cop took in details of the disordered room. A
that anybody ever tried to fool. He had cheap dresser had been ransacked. The
a reputation. He was good. And he was closet door hung open, and what few
tough. clothes Danny Nichols had owned were

T HE Elite Hotel was a worse dump


than the first hotel. There was a
heaped on the floor. The murdered man’s
clothes were turned inside out—as though
the killer were seeking something.
small lobby and a single rattletrap What?
elevator that wheezed up and down be¬ McShane himself made a thorough
66 New Detective Magazim

search of the hotel room. He realized bathroom and w-ashed his hands. He tore
that Danny Nichols must have carried up the message into small bits and flushed
important evidence concerning Walt them down the bowl. What little help the
Crosby’s death. And the underworld in¬ contents of that message would be to him,
former would have been smart enough to he did not know—but at least he wanted
hide that evidence well. But where was no one else to see . . .
it now? His lean, tall frame suddenly went taut.
Steve McShane stood there near the Someone had quietly entered the bed¬
bed, staring at the threadbare rug which room behind him!
he himself had upturned at the corners, at
the uncovered pillows, at the dead man’s
shoes, which he had removed.
S TEVE McSHANE spun, slid
toward the adjoining doorway, his
He stared at the dead man, and sudden¬ right hand streaking toward his
ly a thought occurred to him. shoulder holster. His trench coat was still
Gingerly he reached down and moved buttoned, and the movement of his hand
the dead man’s ^ head. In doing so, the was naturally slowed.
mouth fell open. McShane shuddered. But that of the big man moving across
The task was not pleasant. the room was not.
But he had what he wanted! There was an upraised knife in the
The scrap of paper had been wadded dark-skinned man’s hand, and the deadly
up inside the mouth. McShane spread blade slashed downward in a vicious arc
it out on the dresser and tried to make out as the man leaped toward McShane.
its contents. Words had become blurred The trooper sidestepped, felt steel rip
by moisture, and only a few of them stood through the outer edge of his coat sleeve
out now. The note must have been hastily and slap into the door frame behind him.
scrawled in that last moment when some¬ McShanes’ left fist whipped up and caught
one had knocked at Danny Nichols’ door. the big man beneath the jaw. He was
Nichols must have sensed that he was knocked backward. But the fellow clung
trapped. to the knife, yanking it clear of the wood¬
McShane managed to make out the fol¬ work as he staggered backward.
lowing: Phyllis . . . frame . . . micra . . . He caught his balance, lunged again at
That was all; the rest was an indistinct the quick-moving McShane.
blur. The trooper was ready. His right hand
McShane straightened, his dark eyes closed over the knifeman’s wrist. With a
narrowed. What could it mean? Phyllis deft movement McShane forced the arm
. . . frame . . . micra . . ? upward, at the same time twisting his own
Phyllis 1 There was something about body. The knife clattered to the floor. The
that name . . . man followed it—in a flying arc over
And abruptly Steve McShane knew. McShane’s bent body. He landed with a
Phyllis Wentworth had been Walt Cros¬ crash against the baseboards across the
by’s girl! room. The trooper dived after him.
But the rest? Frame . . . micra . . . The big man wriggled across the floor
What the hell! after the knife. But McShane yanked him
Perhaps the girl was involved in this upward by the collar and let go with a
some way. McShane knew he could find steaming right hook. The blow sent the
her address. It was the only thing he had fellow jerking backward, to land across
now. He’d see her now, tonight! the corpse on the bed.
He stepped into the small, old-fashioned McShane noted, for the first time, the
Murder in Fast Company 67

old knife scar across the big man’s cheek. whipped inward by the wind and the
It ran from the cheek bone to the jaw. rain. He peered out.
The man had close-cropped black hair Directly outside was a fire escape that
and glittering dark eyes. led downward to a narrow alley. Even
He bounced up off the bed now, eyes as McShane watched he saw two figures
deadly. His right hand shot toward his slither from the alley toward the street,
shoulder. Another knife, was McShane’s their forms briefly revealed by the glow of
thought. a sign on the street beyond. Then they
He slammed forward again. had disappeared.
Behind him, someone gave a hissed ex¬ McShane swore, hurried back along the
clamation in the hallway—and immediate¬ hallway. He knew that by the time he
ly the room was plunged into darkness. reached the street the two men would be
Someone else was in the room. Orange- gone. Who they were, what connection
red flame licked out of the gloom, and the they had with Danny Nichols’ death—or
sound of the shot reveberated around the perhaps even Walt Crosby’s—he did not
bare walls. know. The only lead now was the girl,
McShane flung himself downward and and the two words—frame . . . micra . . .
sideways. He felt another slug fan past Back at the elevator he noted that the
his head. Someone was near him in the car was just ascending.
room. He bumped a fast-moving body. McShane said to the worried roomer,
His hands reached out, grappling. An ob¬ “Tell them—dead man back there in
ject slammed his head and he was driven seven thirty-three. Call the police!”
face-down against the worn rug. His As an expression of horror leaped
brain reeled, and he pressed his palms across the man’s features, McShane
against the floor, trying to push up again, moved toward the stairs near the elevator
expecting at any instant that he would shaft and went down the steps three at
get a slug. a time. He had no time now to wait
Then he realized the room was very around and make explanations.
silent, save for his own forced breathing. He was thinking of the girl, Phyllis.
McShane jerked to his feet, moved Perhaps her life was in danger!
across the room, found the light switch
and turned on the single light.
The room was deserted, except for him¬
T HE trooper rode a cab out to the
suburbs, both he and the driver
self and the corpse. watching for the street comer that
Steve McShane hurried out into the he remembered from a previous visit.
hallway. He leaped in the direction of They finally located it, and McShane said,
the elevator. A man was there, punching “You can drop me right here.” He re¬
frantically at the call button. membered that the girl’s house was only
“There’s a fight going on down the a block down the side street. She lived
hall!” he cried, too excited to notice that with her folks.
McShane had come from that very di¬ McShane was certain that he had not
rection. been trailed. But leaving the cab here
A cool, damp breeze struck the troop¬ at the corner of the tree-shaded side street
er’s grim features. He turned, saw an¬ was an added precaution. He paid off the
other corridor that angled off to the right. driver and disappeared into the wet
He jumped that way. gloom.
And at the end of the corridor he saw It had almost stopped raining now, but
the open window, with dirty curtains water dripped down from the heavy
68 New Detective Magazine

foliage of the low-hanging trees that lined Steve noticed that the girl’s dark eyes
the sidewalk. Occasionally a branch were suddenly very bright.
scraped his hat. The section was dismal, “Didn’t you know?” she said.
deserted at this hour of the night. “Know what?”
He remembered the house the moment “About Danny Nichols?”
he saw it—a small bungalow set back Steve shrugged. “I only know that he
among old elms. He went up the path was an underworld character, a small¬
and climbed the steps to the darkened time crook with—”
porch. Ringing anyone’s bell at this hour Phyllis Wentworth was shaking her
of the night . . . head. “That’s what everyone thought he
McShane shrugged and felt around for was!” she told him. “He and Walter
the button. This was no time to worry had been working together. Danny
about formalities. Nichols was so clever that no one ever
He heard a two-toned chime sound suspected—”
somewhere within the house. He waited. Steve interrupted, “You said he was
Finally a light came on in the hallway and working with Walt?”
he heard steps coming downstairs. The The girl nodded. “Danny Nichols was
porch light flashed on. a member of the F.B.I.”
The door opened carefully on a short McShane stared.
chain and the girl’s voice said, “Yes? Phyllis Wentworth hurried on. “A few
What is it?” days before Walter was—murdered, he
McShane stepped close, so that she mailed a confidential report to Washing¬
could see his face. He removed his soggy ton. I happen to know that there was
hat. information in that report concerning a
“It’s Steve McShane—” he started to spy group working throughout the Penn¬
say. sylvania steel plants, spies who are caus¬
“You!” the girl cried, and immediately ing trouble wherever plants are rushed
released the chain and flung open. the with government defense work. That re¬
door. Then he was in the hallway, look¬ port never reached Washington. A mail
ing at her. box was ransacked the very night Walter
She was slender and dark-haired, with sent it. And—two days later—he was
large deep eyes that were shadowed by killed!”
the sorrow of Walt Crosby’s death. She “But—”
held a robe wrapped around her slender “Danny Nichols had a copy of that re¬
figure, and she looked up at Steve Mc¬ port. He didn’t mail it, but instead was
Shane and asked, “Your face—it’s cut! waiting for someone to arrive here from
What’s happened, Steve?” Washington. He also had a lead on who
Briefly he told her about the scheduled Walter’s killers were, but because he
meeting with the little informer named thought he was being trailed, he contacted
Danny Nichols, of the strange message you. He figured no one would know you
that the man had left for him. “Some¬ so well.”
one else was after that information,” he Suddenly the two other words of the
explained. “They ransacked the hotel message held meaning for Steve
room. They almost nailed me when they McShane.
returned unexpectedly.” He said quickly, “Look, do you know
McShane frowned. “One thing puzzles about anything connected with micra—.
me. How come Danny Nichols knew so micrafilm, perhaps?”
much about what Walt was doing?” Surprisingly, she nodded.
Murder in Fast Company 69

Steve followed the girl from the hall¬ He smoked a cigarette, and he heard
way into the living room. She stepped the girl moving around upstairs. He saw
directly to the mantel and reached for a a writing desk across the room, got up
photograph in a silver frame. and located envelopes, pen and ink on the
“It was Danny Nichols’ idea,” she said. desk. In a moment he had addressed an
“In case anything happened to him. I envelope to the F.B.I., Washington, D. C.
guess he was going to tell you about it. He started to slip the sheet of micrafilm
No one had arrived here from Washing¬ inside the envelope. . .
ton yet, and so in case he was trailed in Upstairs, the girl screamed.
the meantime he had me hide the report
in this frame—”
“The report?”
T HE sound of the high-pitched,
frantic cry was still echoing through
“Yes.” The girl was taking the back the house as Steve McShane’s hard,
out of the frame. Then she handed an lean legs shot him up the hall stairs. He
almost transparent-thin sheet to Mc- reached the second-floor landing, heard
Shane. a muffled cry from a room toward the
“It’s all here,” she said, “although you front of the house. He spun down the
can’t read it without its being enlarged hall.
with a light projector. It’s on this micra- There was a bedroom door open, re¬
film.” vealing light from the room within, and
Me Shane’s eyes flickered as he stared there was the noise of someone strug¬
at the thin piece of substance. gling.
“You mean,” he asked in amazement, McShane flung himself into the room—
“all that information is on this single and then drew up short, breath hissing
sheet?” through his taut lips.
The girl nodded. “Names and every¬ The slender, dark-haired girl was on
thing,” she said. “Enough information to one side of the bed, the wiry, small man
send an entire spy ring to prison.” Her on the other. The fellow had beady, ner¬
eyes were worried. “You keep it. I’ve vous eyes. There was a gun in his fist,
been so afraid here alone—” and the gun was covering Phyllis Went¬
“I thought you lived with your folks?” worth.
McShane asked. But McShane’s .38 was in his hand
“I do. But they’re in New York, and also, and he held the man covered.
won’t be back for two days yet—” He snapped, “Okay, drop that gat,
“Then it isn’t safe for you to stay brother.”
here,” McShane put in swiftly. “You’d The little thin man’s deadly, cold eyes
better get a room downtown. I’ll get veered toward the trooper. A twisted grin
someone to stay with you, a woman I touched the corners of his mouth.
know. Sooner or later those crooks are “Why?” he growled.
going to find out that you knew Walt, and “Because—” McShane started to say.
they’ll trail you here.” And behind him, the gun muzzle poked
Phyllis stepped back toward the hall¬ his spine and the voice rapped, “Maybe
way. “I’ll get ready right now,” she sug¬ you’d better drop your gun, sweetheart!”
gested. “After what’s happened to Danny McShane was trapped. But it was
Nichols, I’d be too frightened to leave the really the girl he was thinking about. One
house alone.” false move on his part now and she would
McShane nodded, sat down to wait get a slug.
while the girl got ready. Slowly, he lowered his right hand. The
70 New Detective Magazine

man behind him reached out and grabbed carried some of the sash cord jammed
the .38. McShane turned solwly. in one pocket.
He recognized the big fellow with the As they passed the living room door¬
scarred face, the one who had been in the way, the small man happened to spot the
hotel room just half an hour ago. open picture frame on the living room
The fellow held his own gun and Mc- table. He quickly stepped that way, re¬
Shane’s in his big fists, and he ordered turned with the opened frame. He looked
harshly, “All right, copper, raise your coldly at the girl.
hands!” "So that’s it?” he snarled. “You had
There was nothing to do but comply it hidden in the frame!”
with the order. Across the room, the girl The girl said nothing.
stood frozen, eyes wide with terror. On a sudden impulse, because he was
McShane was frisked to see that he thinking only of her safety, McShane
carried no other weapon. The small man said, “Sure, it was in the frame. She gave
stepped to the window drapes, unloosened it to me. But you’re too late, sweetheart.
a sash cord, returned and ordered the I stuck the paper in an envelope and
trooper to put his hands behind his back. mailed it to Washington just a little
While he was held covered by the man while ago. I gave it to a cab driver to
with the scar, McShane’s wrists were drop in a downtown box.”
tightly bound. The little dark-eyed man cursed.
The girl was treated likewise. He said, “So that makes it too bad for
Then the big fellow looked at his part¬ the both of you. We might have made a
ner. “What are we gonna do with ’em?” deal. But now—”
The cold-eyed, small man glared at the He jerked his head toward the door¬
girl. “You know what we’re here for, way leading out to the porch. “Let’s get
baby—that paper turned over to you by going, Leo!”
Danny Nichols. Where is it?”
The girl defiantly returned his glare.
“I haven’t go it,” she said, chin held
M cSHANE and the girl were taken
out to a driveway that bordered
firmly. the side of the house. There was
“The hell you haven’t!” a big sedan drawn up beneath the rain-
The small man stepped quickly for¬ drenched trees, its lights turned off. The
ward, and his right hand cuffed the girl’s girl was ordered first into the rear com¬
delicate features. She fell back in horror. partment, told to lie down on the floor.
McShane, with a peculiar sound deep Then her ankles were swiftly bound.
in his throat, lunged forward. Immediate¬ McShane was ordered in next. The
ly he was looking into the muzzle of his rear section was roomy enough to ac¬
own service pistol, held in the scar-faced commodate both their cramped forms.
man’s fist. McShane’s ankels and wrists, bttond, were
“That’s better,” said the big man. yanked behind him tightly and tied to¬
The other man held a gun now, too, gether. A blanket was thrown over him¬
watching the girl. self and the girl, and then the car started
He ordered, “We’ll work them over, backing from the driveway. It stopped
but not here. Somebody might hear. Take abruptly, and one of the two men opened
them downstairs!” the rear door. Adhesive tape was placed
Closely guarded, McShane and the girl over their mouths.
were led down to the front hall. The As the car started up again, rolling
trooper noted that the big gunman still swiftly through the night, Steve McShane
Murder in Fast Company 71

felt the girl’s slender form trembling Minutes passed; then the car abruptly
against him. With his mouth taped, there slowed, stopped for a bare instant.
was nothing he could say to help her. He heard someone say, “Keep this card
They were being taken for a ride, he until you leave the highway. Pay then."
knew. But there was one thing he was They were on the Pennsylvania Turn¬
counting on. These two spies probably pike! Twenty-five or thirty miles to the
figured that either he or the girl knew first gas station and rest stop—and noth¬
something. They would try to force that ing but wilderness in between! Anything
information out of them before bumping could happen now.
them off. One wrist slid free of the cords! Im¬
Also, the car might proceed to the real mediately McShane carefully touched the
hideout of the gang, where the men could girl’s shoulder, in front of him, and gave
work in safety. It would bring McShane her a reassuring pat. Perhaps if she
closer to the spy ring. knew that he was not entirely helpless,
she would have hope.
Ordinarily, he would not have been too
He ripped the tape off his mouth, and
worried. He had been in tight spots be¬
in a few moments he had his other hand
fore. But with the girl along . . .
and both ankles free. He quickly went
He stopped thinking about that and
to work on the girl’s binding. He then
started a methodical system of trying to
leaned close to her ear and whispered,
loosen his hands and feet. One thing
“We can’t make a break yet, but if they
was in his favor. The night was muggy,
stop, be ready—for anything!”
and, with the blanket thrown over him,
He felt the nod of her head. She
McShane had started to sweat. The mois¬
clutched his arm.
ture ran down his wrists. By carefully
wriggling his hands he slowly worked the
sash cord lower and lower. After long
moments he was able to hook one finger
M cSHANE lay, tense, listening to
the roar of the car in the wet
night. Turns were so banked,
beneath a strand of the cord.
and so long, that it was almost impossible
At the same time, he heard the sound to tell when they went into one. It was
of cars moving through the night. Light not even necessary for the driver to
flashed beneath a corner of the blanket. slacken speed. McShane judged that they
From the various sounds, McShane were doing all of eighty—and on the
judged that they were passing through Turnpike you could maintain such a speed
downtown Harrisburg. for miles!
He heard one of the men say, “Take Occasionally a car passed them going in
Route Eleven across the bridge.” the opposite direction, on the one-way
The words gave him a start. Route 11 strip of wide concrete off to their left.
led dire<^ to the new Pennsylvania There was just a mere blur of sound, then
Turnpike, the super-highway that cut they were alone again in the night.
across the state for one hundred and sixty Suddenly the car began to slow. Scar-
miles. Once on that express highway face said, “We just passed the sign. The
there was nothing at all, save mountains first gas station is two miles ahead. Say,
and wilderness—and a gas station every I just remembered something! The cop¬
thirty miles! A car could streak across per couldn’t have mailed that letter.”
the highway at seventy miles an hour, “Why not?”
and no one would question the fact! “Remember I told you I trailed him
McShane worked at his wrists. to the house. He let that cab driver go at
72 New Detective Magazine

the corner. So how in hell could he have He moved behind McShane and, using
given the letter to the cabbie to mail be¬ his left hand, frisked the trooper’s inside
fore he got the stuff from the girl?” pocket. His eyes flicked over the Wash¬
The small man swore. “You chump! ington, D.C. address on the envelope. “I
Why didn’t you think of that before?” got it, boss!” he said.
“I forgot, boss.” The girl had climbed out of the car.
“That means the copper still has the She stood beside McShane, eyes wide
letter on him! We gotta make a stop at with amazement.
this gas station to fill up. It’s sixty miles Both crooks started edging abruptly
yet to Midway, and that’s where we turn toward the.car, at the same time keeping
off for the farm. So while the guy’s busy everyone covered with their guns. The
putting in gas, you frisk that cop and get little man slid behind the wheel, ordered,
the letter. And be careful!” “Watch them now!” Then the car lurched
“Sure, boss.” suddenly forward in low gear.
The car continued on at reduced speed, McShane started to move. A shot
then finally swung into the long approach screamed close to his head. He pulled the
to the first rest station. It stopped. girl to the ground. There was a second
McShane made no move. He heard the shot—and then the car had roared away,
small man ordering gas. A few moments
later, when the attendant was busy at the
radiator, the rear door of the sedan opened
R OLLING leisurely into the station
was one of the white-painted state
and the scar-faced man leaned inside. His police cars that patrol the long
hand reached beneath the blanket and Turnpike. McShane leaped toward it,
started searching for McShane’s inside jumped on the running board, gave brief
coat pocket. explanations. He did not know the
Steve McShane straightened with trooper at the wheel, but he flashed his
blinding speed. identification badge.
His right hand sank into the big fel¬ “We can catch them!” he rapped.
low’s collar, clung there as he straightened The girl was suddenly beside McShane.
out with his powerful legs. He drove his “I’m going too!” she announced, climbing
hard wiry form outward through the open in. .
rear door, propelling the big fellow ahead The car shot out onto the main road.
of him. They both landed on the cement Ahead lay darkness and the endless one¬
apron of the driveway. way ribbon of concrete. The car climbed
Above them, the small dark man’s voice up to seventy-five—eighty—eight-five.
snarled, “Okay, copper, on your feet. And The trooper at the wheel said, “There’s
make it fast!” no turn-off for twenty miles.”
McShane rolled, bounced to his feet— “Good!” said Steve McShane. He
and stood looking into the muzzle of the pressed forward, watching the road ahead.
gun! Suddenly he exclaimed, “There’s the tail-
The small crook rapped orders to his light! Give it everything she’s got!”
assistant. “Okay, get that letter. Here!” Slowly, inexorably, the police car bore
His eyes still on the scar-faced man and down on the distant vague spot of red.
McShane, he tossed a second gun to his Miles crashed past, and the high-speed
henchman. motor roared.
The big man caught it deftly, turned The other car was a half-mile ahead
to cover the startled attendant. now, a quarter-mile. They pressed closer.
“Hold it just like that, bud!” And then the large sign loomed up and
Murder in Fast Company 73

flashed by in the night: Tunnel—One piled head-on into the white police car.
Mile Ahead. An explosion followed, and the bigger
McShane said tensely, “If we could car burst into flames.
trap them there—”
Then there was the black opening of
the tunnel itself, directly beneath the
M cSHANE dragged the girl with
him as he moved toward the
mountain ahead, and the first car plunged garage-like opening beside the
into the opening a bare hundred yards tunnel entrance. A man came running
ahead of the police car. out. Behind him, in the garage, was one
Inside, blue-white overhead lights made of the fire trucks kept at every tunnel on
the tunnel as bright as day. There were the highway for just such emergencies.
two lanes, with just small round knobs The man hurried back to the truck,
separating the individual lanes for two- picked up a portable fire extinguisher,
way traffic. No cars were coming toward then leaped toward the flaming sedan.
them. But he was driven back by the intense
McShane yelled. “The left-hand heat from burning gasoline.
lane! Pass them!” He shook his head. “It’s too late, any¬
He turned, worried, to look at the girl. way. Look at those guys!”
“Be ready to jump the moment we stop!” McShane had seen. The two heads
Then the trooper at the wheel had had been pushed through the car wind¬
slammed the police car up beside the es¬ shield at force of the impact. It wasn’t
caping spy car. He edged ahead. A a pretty sight.
quarter-mile away was the tunnel exit, a McShane put his arm around the girl,
black spot ahead of them. The terrific led her away to the edge of the road.
roar of the two hurtling cars filled the “I guess,” he said, “there’s nothing we
tunnel with shattering vibration. can do.” And he added, “They men¬
McShane reached over, slipped his tioned a farmhouse near Midway. That’s
companion’s pistol from its holster. The the station and restaurant located half¬
tunnel exit was just ahead now, and they way across the Turnpike. We’ll be able
were in front of the heavy sedan. to locate the hideout, and with the evi¬
The trooper at the wheel started dence we have on that micrafilm—”
braking. Rubber screamed. McShane “The micrafilm!” Phyllis said, as
chanced one look back. The other car though remembering. She turned, stared
was weaving, as the driver frantically back at the car. “But now that evidence
applied his brakes. is burned along with the car.”
Then they hit the tunnel exit. The McShane was shaking his head. He
white police car slid on the wet pavement reached down, pulled a white envelope
outside, turned sideways, screamed to a from his sock. “I was figuring a way to
stop. stall them a little longer,” he said. He
McShane was out of the car, jerking passed the girl the unaddressed white
open the rear door. He yanked the girl envelope. “This contains the micrafilm.
clear and dashed toward the side of the What that scar-face got was the regular
road, his police partner behind him. envelope with a sheet of blank paper in¬
And not an instant too soon. side. I made the switch after I got my
The man at the wheel of the sedan had hands loose in the car.”
not acted with the sure speed of the The girl stared at him. “You made—”
trooper. He could not stop. There was a And then she clung to his arm, and
shattering crash as the heavy sedan said, “Oh, Steve!”
The Devil’s Highway

One fateful night they gave him—one night alone in a city of foes—
to solve the strange riddle of the clue that was framing him to the
chair—a watch whose hands pointed to murder!

CHAPTER ONE and Mountain Avenue. He was a huge,


fat man with a round, red face. He usu¬
Killer on the Loose

W
ally wore a grin, but he wasn’t grinning
now. He looked a little sick.
HEN he turned away from the “I didn’t hear a thing,” Tuck said
telephone after calling the police, slowly.
Tuck’s knees were so wabbly that “You were right there at the tubs. The
he had to sit down, and at the same time window’s open,” Jules pointed out.
he was aware of an almost overwhelming Tuck stared down at his hands. They
impulse to get away from here. were soft and pink from much dishwash¬
"Didn’t you hear anything?” Jules ing. A moment before, when he had come
asked. “Didn’t you hear anything at all ?” in the back way after a short walk, they
Jules was the cook here in Henry Hull’s had been stained with blood. He had
diner on the corner of Foothill Boulevard washed off the blood but he could still
74
The Devil’s Highway 75

see it on his hands and he could still .see are plenty tough. If you met H. H. out
the crumpled figure of Henry Hull lying back an’ had a row with him an’ killed
there in the yard behind the diner. him, you’d better get out of here in a
“He must have been killed while I hurry. The coppers will beat the truth out
was off on my walk,” Tuck said slowly. of you if they have to take you apart.”
“Didn’t you hear anything, Jules?” Tuck swallowed.
The cook shook his head. “I was busy He said, “I’m not running, Jules. I
at the stove.” didn’t kill him.”
Lucy Gano appeared at the order win¬ Jules picked up a knife and looked at it.
dow. She said, “Hey, Jules. A couple The siren was louder.
deluxe and easy on the onions.” Then she Jules said, “This is your last chance,
glanced at Tuck and added, “Cups up.” kid.”
Jules turned to the gas plate and Tuck “I’m not running,” Tuck said flatly.
got to his feet. He crossed over to a tray Jules sighed and put down his knife.
of cups, picked it up, opened the narrow “All right, Tuck,” he said slowly.
door into the front of the diner and car¬ “Maybe you didn’t. I’ll tell you this,
ried the cups to a place under the counter, though. If you had tried to run, you
close to the coffee urn. There were only wouldn’t have got far. H. H. was a
two customers in the diner. Both were mighty white guy.”
big fellows in faded, gray coveralls. Truck¬
ers, Tuck guessed. A good many truckers
stopped here.
A POLICE car screamed up outside,
and in a moment the diner’s door
Lucy was at the far end of the counter was thrust open and Tuck could
and she didn’t even glance at Tuck as he hear the sound of heavy voices from the
came in with the cups. She was slender, counter. Then footsteps approached the
young and attractive. Tuck liked to look door to the kitchen and two men came in.
at her. He liked the way she walked, the They were big and broad-shouldered and
quick way she smiled, the smart way she scowling, and one of them had a white
handled the men who tried to get too fa¬ scar on the side of his jaw and the cold¬
miliar with her. He would have like to est eyes Tuck had ever seen.
have known her better but Lucy seemed “Which one of you guys called up the
hardly aware of his existence. Tuck didn’t station?” he demanded.
blame her for that. He had looked like Tuck said, “I did.”
a typical bum the day he had shown up “Where’s the fellow who was killed?”
here and asked for a job, and he didn't “Just outside the back door.”
look much better now, even though he was “Who is he?”
shaved and a good deal cleaner. “Henry Hull. The man who owns the
Tuck straightened up and went back to diner.”
the kitchen. He watched Jules put the The man with the scarred face looked
hamburgers together and tried not to think around at the other officer. “You watch
of what lay just outside the back door. these guys, Dwyer. I’ll take a look out¬
Then he heard the distant screaming of side.” Then he moved across the narrow
a siren, and a cold shiver ran over his kitchen and stepped through the door.
body. Dwyer was chewing on an unlighted
Jules carried the hamburgers to the or¬ cigar. He glanced from Jules to Tuck
der window, and Lucy took them. Then several times, then said abruptly, “Know
Jules turned around and said, “Listen who that officer is who just went out¬
here, kid. The coppers in this man’s town side?”
76 New Detective Magazin<

Neither Tuck nor Jules answered. when he left. It was to the side of the
“His name’s Sam Ballard,” Dwyer door where he would have seen it in the
went on. “He’s the best damned detec¬ light from the window, walking up to the
tive this town ever saw and he’s as hard door, but not necessarily as he left.
as they come. I’ve seen him break a man’s When Tuck finished, Ballard said,
jaw with his fist. I saw him go up against “How long you been workin’ here?”
Rudy Conn an’ three other gunsels an’ “Just a week.”
when that scrap was over the city ordered “Where are you from? Just who in the
four coffins. You don’t have nothin’ to hell are you?”
worry about at all as long as you tell Tuck answered that question as well as
the truth, but I’d hate like hell to be in he could, but he knew that he wasn’t mak¬
your shoes if you tried lyin’ to him. He ing a good impression. He had no people
hates a liar.” and for over a year, now, he had been on
Tuck moistened his lips. He caught a the road, moving from place to place, find¬
glimpse of Lucy’s face at the order win¬ ing only an occasional job.
dow. She looked pale and frightened. He “Just a bum, then,” Ballard summed up.
heard the screaming of another siren and Tuck wippd a hand over his face. He
heard the squeal of the brakes as it pulled shook his head, but he knew that Ballard
up in front of the diner. had already catalogued him.
Sam Ballard came back into the kitchen, The officer came forward. “Ever have
and the look on his face was ugly. any trouble with Henry Hull?”
He nodded to Dwyer, and said, "Get the “No.”
girl in here—and those two fellows at the “His pockets are turned inside out. You
counter. Another car just came up. Put didn’t hit him over the head and rob him,
one man at the door and send the others did you?”
out back. I want everyone kept away “No.”
from the body outside.” Dwyer had come back into the kitchen,
Dwyer nodded and left the kitchen, and and Ballard said, “Search him, Dwyer.”
in another moment Lucy and the two Dwyer wasn’t very gentle but he found
men who had been at the counter were nothing of importance in Tuck’s pockets.
ushered in. The truckers didn’t like it any. "You ever hear this guy have trouble
They insisted that they had just dropped with the boss?” Ballard asked Lucy.
in for a hamburger and that their truck The girl shook her head.
was parked just outside and that they had “How about you?” the officer said to
to get along. Ballard didn’t even seem to Jules.
listen to them. For a moment Jules hesitated, then he,
“What’s your name?” he barked at too, shook his head.
Tuck. A glint of satisfaction came into Bal¬
“Fred McSpadden,” Tuck answered. lard’s eyes but he didn’t say anything more
“Where do you live?” to Tuck just then. Instead he turned to
Tuck gave his address. His room was the truckers, questioned them for a mo¬
only a block away. ment and then let them go. After that
“All right. Let’s hear your story.” he questioned Jules and then Lucy.
Tuck’s story wasn’t long. He told of
how he had gone out for a walk and how
he had found Henry Hull’s body when he
T HE kitchen seemed awfully hot,
and Tuck knew that he was per¬
had returned. He wasn’t sure whether spiring. He heard a train roar by on
or not the body had been lying there the tracks which ran down Mountain
The Devil’s Highway 77

Avenue and across the boulevard, and he He tried to whip his thoughts into some
caught the impression that there were kind of order, but he couldn’t. He was
many cars outside and quite a crowd frightened and he knew that his fright
around the place. Through the kitchen showed in his eyes and in his face. He
windows he could see searchlights playing wanted to stand up and stick out his jaw
over the back yard and twice Ballard went and tell Ballard where he could go, but
to the door and said something to the he knew that he couldn’t get by with it.
men out there. He was thin and underweight and he
Then, and just as he had known would didn’t have the stubborn jaw of a hero.
happen, Ballard turned back to him again. “Better talk, McSpadden,” Ballard
“I guess this is the fellow we want, said again.
Dwyer,” he said bluntly. “He’s just a It was very still there in the kitchen,
lousy bum. Hull took him in when he was and then suddenly Dwyer was back and
starvin', fed him an’ gave him a job, and he had a roll of bills in his hand.
the first chance he got, the bum slugged “I found the mattress slit in the kid’s
him over the head an’ robbed him, then room,” Dwyer said grimly. “This money
tried to play smart and called in the cops.” was stuffed inside. There was a watch
Tuck shook his head. He said, “No— there, too. I’ll bet it’s Hull’s.”
no—that’s a lie. I didn’t kill him. I Dwyer pulled a watch from his pocket
didn’t—” and held it out, and the minute that he
Ballard’s hand slapped him across the saw it, Tuck knew that the watch was
cheek and the blow almost stunned him. Henry Hull’s. But that watch and the
A short, half stifled scream broke from money couldn’t have been found in his
Lucy’s lips. room. It was impossible. He tried to tell
“You’d better come out with a straight Ballard that but he couldn’t get the words
story, McSpadden,” Ballard grated. “I’m past a sudden lump in his throat.
gonna get it from you if I have to beat you Sam Ballard laughed, and the laugh was
to death. It’ll be a damned sight simpler short and ugly. “Fine, Dwyer. That
just to talk up.” closes the case. Ready to talk, McSpad¬
“I didn’t do it,” Tuck choked. den?”
He thought that Ballard was going to Tuck McSpadden shook his head. He
hit him again but the man didn’t. couldn’t talk. He couldn’t even think
He said, “Dwyer, run over to his room straight, and he backed up against the
and see what you can find. Hull was wall when Ballard approached.
robbed an’ this guy was away long enough Ballard didn’t hit him again, however.
to have stopped at his room.” He only clenched his fist and lifted it and
Dwyer ducked out and Ballard just then laughed at the way Tuck must have
stood there in the narrow kitchen, scowl¬ looked.
ing at him. Jules was looking at him too. “Take him out to the car, Dwyer. He’ll
And Lucy. Yes, Lucy was finally looking break easy, but we’ll finish the job down¬
at him, but the expression on her face was town. Take him the back way and down
the kind of expression she might have the street. I’ll meet you there. I want you
worn when looking at something which to get him away before the reporters out
had crawled out from under a rock. front snap his picture. He’s not gonna
“Think it over, McSpadden,” Ballard look so nice in about an hour.”
breathed. “Think it over. You’d better Dwyer grabbed Tuck by the arm and
talk.” marched him to the door and outside.
Tuck mopped a hand across his face. Tuck’s feet were like lead and there was
78 New Detective Magazine

no strength in his legs. He had a confused their houses and formed small groups on'
impression of being taken to the alley and the sidewalk. A part of the crowd which
along it toward the street, and he could had gathered at the diner had moved this
never in the world have explained what way and gradually drifted on.
happened just before they got to the street. Tuck huddled close to the ground,
Perhaps it was fright that motivated him, scarcely moving. He lay against a hedge
or a hopeless desperation—or maybe a scarcely two feet high. The wire he had
suddenly awakened anger, but certainly no tripped on bordered the walk leading up
thought proceeded what he did. to one of the houses, and he had rolled
“Hey, I want to talk,” he said abruptly. to the hedge in falling.
Dwyer stopped and made a noise in his Half a dozen times he thought he had
throat which might have been a chuckle. been discovered. Once a dog sniffed at
“I thought you would. Well, what is it, him and then loped away when his master
kid?” whistled. Once a searchlight from a police
“It’s this!” And Tuck hit the man who car passed just above him. On several oc¬
was holding him. He brought his fist up casions people gathered on the sidewalk,
from down at his side, twisting his body not six yards from the hedge. Tuck didn’t
and getting all the weight and power be¬ see how it was possible that none of them
hind it that he could. saw him.
The blow caught Dwyer full in the face He heard about himself. He heard that
and knocked him sprawling, and he let out he was desperate, and that was true. He
a hoarse yell as he hit the ground. heard that he was insane, that he carried
That cry stabbed into Tuck’s con¬ a knife, that he had killed the policeman
sciousness like a knife. He realized sud¬ who had arrested him. And when the
denly what he had done and that no one people who lived in this house before
was holding him and he started to run. He which he was lying went back inside, he
heard a shot which sounded awfully close heard them fasten the door and then make
and then another and he knew that Dwyer sure that the windows were locked.
was up and was shooting at him and that The search moved on and the street
he would never get away. grew quiet but still Tuck didn’t move. It
He reached the street and turned up it was cold on the ground and he was shiv¬
and then ducked back across someone’s ering, but he was beginning to be able to
yard. Behind him there was yelling and think again and he knew that he had to
shouting and the honking of many auto think fast. It was natural that he thought
horns. Blood was pounding in his temples first of all of getting away, but he knew
and his breath was coming in gasps. There that the railroads would be watched and
was still no feeling in his legs. He was he didn’t have a cent in his pocket. He
running harder than he had ever run in was sure that he couldn’t hitch a ride at
his life, but he couldn’t make any speed. night and that he wouldn’t get far if he
And then a wire across someone’s lawn tried walking. And the more he consid¬
tripped him and he went down and didn’t ered it, the more he realized that to escape
have the strength to get up. from here, at least at the present time,

T HE search was all around him.


Men ran up the street, calling to
was impossible.
A hiding place was his next considera¬
tion and a dozen possible hiding places
one another, shouting descriptions came to his mind, but most of them were
of him. Car searchlights played across the places which would be no good at all in
lawns in the block, and people came out of the daytime. As soon as he tried to get
The Devil’s Highway 79

away or to hide, the police would catch up deal of traffic on the street and it was well
with him. Ever j ibit of reasoning power lighted. Tuck paused for a moment in the
that he had told him that. doorway of a feed store. A couple of men
A voice from the past reached out over passed him with only a casual glance.
a half-dozen years and caught Tuck’s at¬ Across the street a boy was hawking the
tention. It was his father’s voice and it morning paper.
seemed as clear to him tonight as though Tuck looked down Foothill toward the
his father were kneeling at his side. railroad and toward the corner where
Hull’s diner was located.
“It’s no use running away, Tuck,” his
He wondered if Jules had come home
father had said. “You can’t run forever.
and if he should try the hotel or wait here
Sooner or later you’ve got to stop and
for a while.
fight the thing you’re running from. And
About a block away he caught sight of
if you’re too tired from running, you’ll get
the figure of a woman and almost at once
whipped.”
he knew that it was Lucy. He recognized
Tuck sat up, scowling. He had been
her coat and the way she walked.
running for a long time now. Running
She was coming toward him, toward
away from unpleasant jobs, running away
the hotel.
from the monotony of work. He was really
Apparently the police had just let her
pretty close to being the bum that Sam
go home.
Ballard thought him. If he was ever go¬
Tuck drew back into the doorway, and
ing to stop running away it would have
when Lucy was about to pass he stepped
to be pretty soon. In fact, it would have
out and called her name and then caught
to be right now. her by the arm. He thought for an instant
Jules! He thought of Jules. When he that Lucy was going to scream, and then
had left for his breath of fresh air, Jules he saw that she was too frightened. Her
had been alone in the diner’s kitchen. The body had stiffened and her eyes were wide
cook stood a lot at the back door and could and startled.
have seen Henry Hull coming up to the “I’m not going to hurt you, Lucy. I
place, could have stepped outside to talk only wanted to talk to you. That’s all.
to him and then could have slugged him Just talk to you.”
over the head. The girl’s lips moved. For a moment
Tuck got to his feet. He knew where she didn’t say anything; then she managed
Jules lived—in the same hotel as Lucy. to gasp, “Wh—what do you want, Tuck ?”
A car rolled down the street, but Tuck “I didn’t kill him,” Tuck said swiftly.
paid hardly any attention to it. Without “I wanted you to know that. It was
even considering that the search for him Jules.”
might still be going on, he started for Lucy nodded. “Yes, Tuck. Of course
Jules’ hotel. it was Jules.” She said it swiftly. “And
now let me go. I’ll not tell anyone I saw
you. I promise I won’t.”
CHAPTER TWO
Tuck scowled. “You don’t believe me.
The Long Black Rope That’s it. You think I’m crazy, that I

T UCK came out on Foothill Boule¬


vard two blocks from the small
killed him.”
“No, Tuck.”
“I’ll make a bargain with you,” said
suburban business district in which Tuck suddenly. “Listen to me for just a
the hotel was located. There was a good minute and then, if you wish, we’ll walk
80 New Detective Magazine

right on until we find the nearest police¬ had come over to his side—and that feel¬
man. I’m not crazy. I’m just in a spot. ing lifted him out of his depression.
That’s all.” He said, “That’s it, Lucy. Someone
Tuck released the girl’s arm. He saw who knew where I lived. Someone who
her eyes narrow, saw a look of doubt had followed me home.”
come into them. A man who was passing just then
“I can’t prove that I didn’t kill H. H.,” glanced over at Tuck sharply, and when
Tuck said. “But I know that I didn’t. I he had gone, Lucy said, under her breath,
don’t think that his body was lying there “We can’t stand here, Tuck. The police
when I left. Jules was all alone in the are looking for you. Someone may guess
kitchen. He stands a lot at the door. He who you are.”
must have seen the boss coming up. He Tuck grinned. “I’ll walk you on home.”
must have stepped outside and had a row "But where are you going.”
with him. He must have—” “I’m going hunting.”
And then quite suddenly Tuck stopped. Without giving Lucy a chance to object,
For the first time since he had decided Tuck started on up Foothill with her. He
that Jules was the murderer, he remem¬ didn’t know it, but he stood a little
bered the money and the watch which had straighter than he had been standing for
been found in his room. Jules couldn’t months and there was almost a spring in
have planted the money and the watch his step.
there. He wouldn’t have dared to leave
the kitchen that long.
Lucy had thought of that too. “What
T HEY walked a block in silence.
Then Lucy stopped him with her
about the money and the watch which hand on his arm. “Tuck, who are
were found in your room, Tuck ? How did you going to be hunting? What can you
they get there ? Jules didn’t leave the diner do?”
while you were away. Most of the time I Tuck made no answer. He was looking
stood at the order window and talked to ahead, up the street. A car had stopped
him.” near the doorway which led to the hotel
Tuck ran his fingers through hair which where Lucy lived, and two men had got¬
needed cutting. The whole case that he ten out. They were both large men and
had built up had come tumbling down they looked very familiar.
around him. He could feel Lucy’s eyes on “Tuck, what is it?” Lucy whispered.
him, but he didn’t look up. “Those two men! Do you know them ?
“Maybe you didn’t kill him, Tuck,” The ones in front of your hotel.”
Lucy said suddenly. “Maybe it was some Lucy stared toward the two men. “They
tramp from the railroad. Maybe—” look a little like the two who were in the
“No tramp would have known his way diner when the police arrived.”
to my room. No tramp would have left “They are the two.”
that much money there.” “But they’re not dressed the same.
“Then it was someone else, someone Tuck. And those fellows who were in
who knew where you lived.” the diner were truckers. They’re a hun¬
"Hardly anyone knows where I live. dred miles away from here by now.”
I’ve only been here a week.” Tuck shook his head stubbornly.
"Someone who had planned it could "They’re not a hundred miles away.
have found out.” They’re not even a hundred yards away.
Tuck didn’t know how it had hap¬ Lucy, did you ever see those two fellows
pened, but he had the feeling that Lucy before?”
The Devil’s Highway 81

“I don’t think so. I—Tuck, I’ve just belonging to people attending the show
remembered something.” on the next corner, and Tuck didn’t make
Lucy’s voice betrayed a sudden excite¬ another attempt to stop Lucy. Instead he
ment. Her hand was still on Tuck’s arm moved between two of the parked cars to
and her fingers were digging through his the street. He bent low then, and hurried
heavy, blue shirt. forward, aware of the fact that he was at¬
“Do you remember when you brought tracting attention from the passing motor¬
in those cups tonight? Those two men ists, but sure that the man waiting at the
were at the counter. They looked you hotel couldn’t see him.
over. After you left one of them asked Near the place, Tuck straightened up.
who you were and I told him. He said Through a car’s windows he saw the man
you looked like a fellow who tried to hold who had been waiting step up to Lucy. He
him up one night. He wanted to go back didn’t hear what the man said but he saw
and talk to you, but the man next to him the fellow’s hand dive into his pocket and
wouldn’t let him. That—that isn’t much, come out with a gun, and he saw him
but it might mean something.” motion with the gun toward the car in
It seemed to Tuck that his mind had which he had arrived.
never been clearer than it was just then. Lucy looked around once and then
He looked toward the two men. One of stepped over toward the car. She got in
them was going through the doorway into and the man stood near the open door,
the hotel. The other leaned against the leaning over as though talking to the girl
building. and waiting, Tuck knew, for the man who
“No, that wasn’t much,” Tuck said had gone into the hotel.
slowly. “But, Lucy, if those men killed Tuck edged around to the sidewalk. He
H. H., they must have stopped in the came up behind the man silently and
diner just to plant that notion with you. swiftly. He touched him on the shoulder,
And after Sam Ballard let them go, they and when the man straightened up, Tuck
could have hurried over to my room and hit him. He hit him just like he had hit
left the money and the watch in the mat¬ the detective there in the alley back of the
tress of my bed. I told Ballard my ad¬ diner. His whole body was twisting under
dress, and they heard it.” the blow. Pain spread through his hand
“Tuck, I’m going to find out.” and ran up his arm, and he knew he had
“Find out what?” broken something. He heard the fellow
“Find out if those are the two men who cry out as he sagged against the car door,
were in the diner tonight, dressed up as and then he heard Lucy calling to him. She
truckers.” had crawled out the other side of the car.
“No, Lucy. I—” The car door the man had fallen against
Lucy started across the street, almost slammed shut, and the fellow keeled over
running. and sprawled on the sidewalk. A man
Tuck caught her but she pulled away coming up the street stopped a dozen yards
from him. away, a foolish, frightened look on his face.
She said, “Don’t be a fool, Tuck. Let Lucy hurried around the car and caught
me go.” Tuck’s arm.
There was hardly anyone in sight and She said, “Come on,” and started him
Tuck noticed that the man waiting near up the street, walking fast. They came to
the hotel door had straightened up and a parking lot beside a grocery store and
^was looking toward them. Cara were turned across it, away from Foothill.
parked pretty solidly along the curb, cars Back near the hotel somebody started
82 New Detective Magazine

yelling. “Help! Help! Help!” There been securely locked up and he was afraid
was something electrifying in the sound. that a smashed window would attract at¬
Tuck wanted to run again. He urged Lucy tention the next morning.
along faster. Tuck lay down on the blanket. He had
“Steady, Tuck. Steady! We’ll not at¬ two more. One was wrapped around
tract so much attention if we just walk.” Lucy, who was still standing.
Tuck swallowed the lump in his throat “It’ll be all right to sit down, Lucy,”
and forced himself to slow down. Lucy Tuck said slowly. “I’ll not bother you
was right, he knew, but in spite of what any. That is—”
she had said, her voice hadn’t sounded Lucy sat down. “Tuck, why did that
very sure. And he could feel her arm man want me to get in his car ? He didn’t
trembling under his own. tell me. He just said that he was taking

T HE garage had a dirt floor and


hadn’t been used for a long time.
me to see someone.”
“You recognized him?”
“Yes. He was one of the truckers. He
Lucy was sure that it was alive was the one who had asked about you.”
with black widow spiders. She shivered Tuck nodded. “Those men killed H.
and didn’t want to sit down on the blanket H.,” he said quietly. “They came in the
Tuck had stolen from someone’s clothes¬ diner just to drop that hint about me,
line. hoping that when the murder was dis¬
“Black widow spiders never stir during covered, you would pass that hint on to
the night,” Tuck declared. “It’s only in the police and the police would have a
daytime, when it’s warm, that they move good suspect. Then the police came, and
about.” I seemed so guilty that Sam Ballard paid
“How do you know that?" Lucy asked. hardly any attention to them. They got
Tuck didn’t know it but it sounded out, planted the money and watch in my
reasonable. “I learned it in school.” room and then got to thinking. They re¬
“Where did you go to school, Tuck?” membered what they had said to you and
“University of Nebraska.” were afraid that if you repeated the story
“Honestly?” to the police, the police might try to find
Tuck nodded. “Majored in English and them to check up on their story of my at¬
psychology. Three years on the football tempt to hold them up.”
team but always a scrub.” “Well?”
“Why do people call you Tuck?” “Don’t you see, Lucy ? They don’t want
“I don’t know.” the police checking up on them. The police
“There was a man named Tuck in the accepted the story that they were just
stories of Robin Hood.” truckers who had dropped in for a ham¬
“He was big and fat and was a friar.” burger, and let them go. They were afraid
“And he was a good fighter, too. May¬ if you talked to the .police, the cops might
be that’s why people call you Tuck.” try to find them. I—I don’t think they
The garage was back of a vacant house would have hurt you. Maybe they would
on a corner two blocks from Foothill have just kept you out of circulation for a
Boulevard. Tuck had noticed the place while. The police would have searched
several days before. He had noticed it be¬ for you, of course, but would probably
cause the house was marked for sale and have thought you had just run away.”
because it was the kind of a house he Lucy shivered again and drew the
wanted to own some day. He had wanted blanket closer around her. They talked
to break into the house tonight but it had more—of the case and then of other things.
The Devil’s Highway 83

and the long night slowly passed. Some¬ lay ahead. He felt like a different man. He
time toward morning, Lucy dropped off to knew that he was head over heels in love
sleep. And then Tuck did also, though he with Lucy and that that was the reason for
hadn’t thought he would be able to close it. And he knew, too, that this thing
his eyes, because of the way his right couldn’t go on.
hand ached. Lucy turned to the paper and read what

T HE morning was bright with sun¬


shine, and at about nine o’clock
it had to say about Henry Hull’s death
and Tuck’s escape. There wasn’t any men¬
tion at all of the two truckers.
Lucy insisted on going out for “But I’m in the paper,” Lucy cried sud¬
some food. She came back with several denly. “I—Tuck, I’ve disappeared. I’m
large bundles and proudly exhibited the supposed to have been in on it with you.”
things she had bought. There was a quart Tuck scowled. He had finished shaving,
of milk, bread, cold meat, a pie, paper and now he wiped the rest of the lather
napkins and cups and oranges, also a razor off of his face. “What else is in the
and some blades, a tube of brushless shav¬ paper?”
ing cream, cold cream and some Kleenex, “Nothing else about us. There was an¬
a new shirt, sweater and hat, and a news¬ other accident at Foothill and Mountain
paper. last night. A fast freight hit a car with
“I spent practically every cent that I three people in it. They were all killed.”
had,” she confessed. “But I think I did Tuck sat down.
pretty well, Tuck. The only thing I’m not He said, “Lucy, you’ve got to get out
sure about is the size of the shirt and of this.”
the hat.” “How?”
Tuck tried on the hat. It came way “Haven’t you got some people some
down over his ears. He grinned at Lucy, place you can go to?”
and said, “A perfect fit.” The girl shook her head. “We’ve got
Lucy was laughing at him. "You ought to find those two truckers. Tuck, why do
to see yourself, Tuck. You ought to see you suppose they killed H. H. ? It wasn’t
yourself.” for the money he had. They hid the money
Still grinning, Tuck took off the hat. in your room.”
He looked at the size of the shirt and said, “Maybe they only hid part of it.”
“This is much better.” “No. H. H. never carried much
“I can exchange the hat,” Lucy an¬ money.”
nounced. “Suppose you shave, and then “And you’ve never seen those men be-
breakfast will be ready. I always insist fore?”
that my men shave before breakfast.” “Never.”
Tuck set to work shaving. There was a Tuck started
small mirror in Lucy’s purse and he bor¬ “We could go to the police, of course,”
rowed it. Lucy watched him critically. Lucy went on. “We could tell them about
"In the movies,” she mentioned, “wom¬ those two men, but we couldn’t prove a
en are supposed to love watching a man thing.”
shave. I used to think I ought to be in Tuck looked up. “Do you know of any¬
the movies.” one who hated Henry Hull?”
“Get my breakfast, woman,” Tuck “No one. He was a—he was a wonder¬
ordered. ful man, Tuck. He was always doing
He felt pretty good this morning as long something to help people. He never had
as he could keep his thoughts off of what much money. Sometimes he used to talk
84 New Detective Magazine

about what he wanted to do when he got Tuck shook his head. “I think you can
rich, when the overpass went through. do this better than I can, Lucy. Doesn’t
There’s always been talk of an overpass Mrs. Hull like you?”
for the railroad at Foothill and Mountain. “I think she does.”
H. H. owned the property on both sides “Then she’ll never believe that you were
of the track. The railroad would have had mixed up with me, no matter what the
to buy it—but nothing ever came of the papers say. She’d talk more freely to you
plans.” than she would to me. I guess I wasn’t
Tuck’s eyes narrowed. “Lucy, where thinking very straight when I decided to
does Mrs. Hull live?” see her myself.”
“Just a couple blocks from here. Why?” “Why do you want me to see her,
Tuck stood up. “Let’s go see her.” Tuck?”
“But we might be seen. The police—” “I want you to find out if that man
“I’ve got a new shirt and sweater and Mundy really wanted to buy the diner or
hat. Besides, no one will be expecting us if anyone wanted to buy it recently. I
around here. Let’s go.” want you to find out why Mundy came to
“Why do you want to see Mrs. Hull?” see her this morning.”
Tuck caught Lucy’s arm. “Come on, “And that’s all?”
woman. I’ve got ideas.” Tuck nodded.

N O ONE seemed to pay any atten¬


tion to them as they strolled down
“You’ll wait here?”
“No, I’ll crawl back in my hole. And
don’t mention my name.”
the street, though Tuck knew that Lucy hesitated for just a moment, then
Lucy was nervous. Suddenly she stopped moved on up the street. When Tuck saw
him. her enter the house he turned and started
“That’s the house up there,” she said back toward the garage.
swiftly. “The yellow stucco. That’s Mrs. Tuck’s mind was still deep in consid¬
Hull on the porch. The man with her is eration of this new angle to the case when
Jim Mundy.” he got back to the garage. The morning
Tuck stared up the street. A man and was quiet, and except for a couple of kids
woman stood on the porch of the yellow playing on the corner, no one was near
stuccoed house. The woman was rather the place. Just as though the garage be¬
small and gray-haired. The man was tall longed to him, Tuck opened the door and
and thin. He was well dressed. His car, stepped inside—and then he came to an
parked at the curb in front of the house, abrupt halt, every muscle in his body
was large and new. freezing. Two men were waiting for him
“Who’s Jim Mundy?” in the garage, the two truckers who had
“I don’t know much about him. Tuck. been in the diner the night before. Each
He used to drop in to the diner sometimes held a gun, and the looks the two men
to see H. H. I’ve heard he’s a politician. were wearing were twisted and ugly.
He was always wanting to buy the diner, “Nice little place you have here,” said
or at least he was always joking about it.” one. “Come on in, McSpadden, an’ sit
Tuck nodded. He was aware of a grow¬ down.”
ing excitement. He watched Mundy turn Tuck McSpadden swallowed. He
from the porch, enter his car and drive couldn’t imagine how these fellows had
away, but he still didn’t move from where found his hide-out, and he didn’t like the
he was standing. way they were looking at him. He had an
“Shall we go on, Tuck?” Lucy asked. impulse to call out, but he choked it back.
The Devil’s Highway 85

He didn’t want the police just yet. He Tuck managed to sit up. There was a
didn’t want the police any more than these hammering pain in his head and his eyes
two men. And he knew what might hap¬ wouldn’t focus right. His stomach was
pen if he yelled for help. He was already churning up and down.
branded a murderer. It would be no crime “Let me handle him, Max,” Lou Siegel
to shoot him down. growled. “I’m the guy who found this
“Come on in an’ sit down,” ordered place. I’m the guy who insisted on search-
the man again. in’ all the vacant buildings in this part
Tuck moved forward a little and sat of the town.”
down on the dirt floor. The blankets and “You ought to have been a copper,”
the remains of the breakfast he and Lucy Golding sneered. “But who let the girl get
had enjoyed were piled against one of the away in the first place ?”
walls. The food had been covered by the “She hasn’t been here,” Tuck mut¬
blankets when he and Lucy had left but tered.
Tuck noticed that the men had discovered Golding laughed. “The hell she wasn’t.
it. We found cold cream and Kleenex in that
“I guess we’ve never met properly,” pile of stuff against the wall. You would
said the man who had done all the talking never have bought that. Only a woman
since Tuck had come in. “My name’s Max would. I want to know where she is.”
Golding. This other fellow’s Lou Siegel. Tuck swallowed. “All right. I just put
We’ve been sort of looking around for her on a train for Los Angeles where
you. Especially Lou.” she’s got folks.”
Lou was the man Tuck had hit the night “Another lie, McSpadden. She ain’t got
before in front of Lucy’s hotel. His jaw no folks. We learned that this morning.
was swollen. He had a fleshy, red face, Where is she?”
dark eyes and heavy brows. Golding was “I don’t know.”
thinner, but still big. Golding’s foot kicked out and caught
“Well, where is she, McSpadden?” Tuck in the jaw. He couldn’t stifle the
Golding snapped. cry which came to his lips. He had the
“Where’s who?” Tuck asked. feeling that half of his head had been torn
“The girl. Who the hell did you think off. Something was suddenly slapped
we meant?” Golding laughed. “You must across his face, something that choked his
have had a pretty nice time here last breathing. Adhesive tape!
night.” “He can’t talk that way,” Siegel ob¬
A sudden flush of anger came into jected.
Tuck’s face. He jerked to his feet and “And he can’t yell, either,” said Gold¬
rushed at Golding, forgetting all about the ing. “We’ll talk to him for a while, then
man’s gun.- It flashed up and down, and rip off the tape an’ give him one more
the barrel caught Tuck across the temple. chance.”
A thousand stars blinked in front of his “Maybe if we just wait here the girl will
eyes. The next thing that he knew he was show up.”
on the ground and Golding was kicking “Yeah, an’ maybe the coppers will get
him in the ribs. the same idea we had. Maybe they’ll
show up.”
OU’D better sit up and talk, Tuck had never felt worse in his life.
I McSpadden,” Golding was say- His head was splitting with pain and he
ing. “I haven’t even started on couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. A
what I can do to you.” hazy darkness swept over him but he
86 New Detective Magazim

couldn’t lose himself in it. He could still dy,” Tuck gasped. “She knows about—”
hear Golding and Siegel talking and he His voice choked up and he was afraid
couldn’t get out of his mind the realzation to look at Golding, afraid that his guess
that Lucy would soon be back. He knew had been wrong.
that he had to get these men away before Golding whistled.
she returned and that no ordinary lie “She’s gone to see Mundy,” he
would satisfy them. He needed to be able breathed. “How the hell did you figure
to think now, and he couldn’t think. him in on it?”
Something rough and tight was twisted “She’s gone to see Mundy,” Tuck said
around his throat, and he was pulled to again. “It’s about the overpass. There’s
his feet and held there. He fumbled at his a lot of money involved in it. A lot of
neck and felt a rope. money.”
“Listen here, McSpadden,” Golding Golding’s eyes had narrowed. “A lot of
said sharply. “We mean business. We money, huh ? Maybe we’re missin’ out on
want that girl. It’s her or you. Under¬ somethin’, Lou. Suppose you an’ me go
stand? And this is your last chance to to see Mundy again. There’s more to this
talk straight. Feel above your head.” than he told us.”
Tuck lifted his arms above his head and “What about this guy?”
felt a rope. When he touched it he felt it Golding’s laugh was short and ugly.
pull against his neck. And he knew fear “String him up. He knows too much.”
then—a deep and racking fear that made Tuck grabbed for the rope above his
him want to scream. head.
“I reckon you’ve figured it out,” Gold¬ “No,” he screamed. “No! I—”
ing went on. “Lie to us again an’ we’ll
The rope jerked taut. It tightened
string you up. We’ll put a box near where
around his throat, cutting off his cries.
you’ll be hangin’. It’ll look like suicide,
He felt himself pulled from his feet, and
McSpadden. The cops will never question
he tried and tried to suck air into his lungs
it. What would be more natural than for
but he couldn’t. Darkness crowded over
a hunted man to hang himself, specially
him.
when he doesn’t have a chance of gettin’
away?”
CHAPTER THREE
Golding stepped forward and ripped the
adhesive tape from Tuck’s lips. The Devil’s Overpass
“Last chance, McSpadden. What you
got to say?”
Tuck McSpadden drank in deep gulps
L UCY was calling him. She was
calling his name over and over and
of air. He glanced above his head and her voice seemed to be coming from
saw how the rope was fixed over one of the some point far away, the front of the
rafters. Lou Siegel, back by the door, held lunch counter, perhaps, and she must be
the other end. All he had to do was to pull short of cups or silver. Tuck made a des¬
on the rope to hoist Tuck’s body into the perate effort to get up and to get over to
air. the tubs, and then his eyes opened and he
“Talk, damn you,” Golding grated. saw that Lucy was bending over him and
Something convincing—that was what he recalled, all at once, what had hap¬
he had to fell them! Something that would pened.
get them away from here before Lucy re¬ He lifted his hands to his throat.
turned. Though loosened, the rope was still there.
“The girl’s—gone to see—Jim Mun- A part of it trailed over the rafter.
The Devil’s Highway 87

Lucy moistened her handkerchief and Lucy was staring at Tuck wide-eyed.
wiped his lips. She had been crying, and “How do you know all that?”
her face was very pale. “Nothing else adds up. I’m going to
“I—I thought I was too late,” she whis¬ see Mundy.”
pered. “I saw those men leaving the “No!”
garage and I ducked back out of sight. Tuck’s lips tightened. “I’ve got to,
When I got here I—I was afraid you Lucy. Don’t you see, I can’t prove a bit
were . . . dead. ...” of what I told you, but I said enough to
Tuck sat up. He held his head in his those two fellows who tried to hang me, to
hands and tried to fight off the dizziness send them to see Mundy. Apparently
which was sweeping over him. His throat Mundy hadn’t told them the whole story.
was raw, and a pain was building up in I’ve an idea they mean to hold him up.
his head. He felt Lucy’s arm around his But here’s the point. I’ve got to get out to
shoulder,'“holding him steady. see Jim Mundy before those two fellows
Lucy was flushed. Her breath was leave. It’s your job to go after the police.”
coming fast. “Tuck, we’ve got to get out “But—but what can you do, Tuck?”
of here. Those men may come back. They “I can act as master of ceremonies.
may—” Mundy and those other two fellows would
“They’ll not be back,” Tuck promised. cover up if the police walked in. The po¬
“What did Mrs. Hull tell you?” lice wouldn’t believe our story, anyhow.
“She said that Jim Mundy wanted to It’s got to be dragged out in the open and
buy her property on Mountain Avenue.” I’m the only one who can do that.”
“Her property?” “They’ll kill you, Tuck.”
“Yes. It’s in her name, though of “Not if the police get there quick
course it belonged to H. H.” enough and listen outside while we’re
“And H. H. didn’t want to sell.” still talking.”
“No. He insisted on holding it. He He turned toward the door, but Lucy
thought they would some day make some¬ said, “Wait a minute. Tuck.” And then
thing out of it, that is, if the overpass was she caught him in her arms and kissed
ever put through.” him.
"What did Mundy want today ?” When she broke away, she said,
“He wanted Mrs. Hull to sign the “You’ve got a lot to learn, Tuck, but—
papers. And she did. She said that with but I’ve an idea you’ll learn fast.” Her
H. H. gone she wouldn’t ever try to-run voice was husky and there was a breath¬
the diner. She’s going back east right less quality about it which sent Tuck’s
after the funeral, anyhow.” blood pounding madly through his veins.
Tuck nodded. “That’s it, Lucy! Every¬ He said, "Let me try again. Come
thing’s perfectly clear now.” here, woman.”
“What’s perfectly clear?”
“Who killed H. H. and who ordered it
done and why. It’s like this. That
I T WAS Jim Mundy himself who an¬
swered Tuck’s ring, and Tuck knew
overpass is going to be built. Mundy from the startled expression which
knew about it and wanted the property spread across his face, that the man
Hull owned. The property was in Mrs. recognized him.
Hull’s name, but H. H. wouldn’t let her “Hate to bother you like this,” said
sell out, so Mundy hired two men to kill Tuck quietly. “But I hate to be pushed
him, then went to see Mrs. Hull and got around, Mr. Mundy, and those two friends
her to sign over the property.” of yours who arrived here a little while
New Detective Magazine

ago have been pushing me too hard.” you like to hear all that I can prove?”
Mundy stepped back from the door and Mundy jerked around to stare at him.
Tuck entered the house. “All right. Go ahead.”
Max Golding and Lou Siegel came in There were cigarettes' on a table near
from another room where they had ap¬ where Tuck was sitting. He got up, lit
parently been waiting. They stared at him, one and went back to his chair. He made
wide-eyed. up a story about what he could prove and
Tuck shook his head. “I’m not a ghost. he dragged it out as long as he could. He
The rope broke. That’s all.” leaned forward as he talked, and he lis¬
Siegel clawed out his gun. “It did like tened above the sound of his voice for
hell. It—” some sound from the front door. It was
Golding pushed Siegel’s arm down. He still slightly ajar. He had waited a while
said, “Take it easy, Lou. Take it easy.” before coming here and he didn’t think the
“What do you want?” Mundy blurted. police should be so far behind.
“What do I want?” Tuck asked. “Why, “All a pack of lies,” Mundy cut in sud¬
I want money, of course.” denly. “I’m not afraid of your story.”
Golding and Siegel looked at each other Tuck shrugged. “It’d be safer to buy
and nodded and then they both looked at me off than risk it.”
Mundy. Tuck left the door ajar. He “For how much?”
moved on deeper into the room. “Ten grand. Cash.”
“I thought you told me you had finished “You’re crazy.”
this fellow,” Mundy said bluntly. “Five then. And not a cent less.”
“I still can’t figure out how he got Mundy looked over at Golding and
here,” Siegel declared. “That rope didn’t Siegel. “I’ll give you fellows the five
break.” grand. You take care of this man here.”
“Of course it didn’t,” Tuck grinned. Golding moistened his lips. He said,
“The girl came along and cut me down. “Ten, Jim. Don’t forget that girl can tell
She’s waiting now for a telephone call quite a story about us. We’ll have to get
from me.” out of here in a hurry.”
“A telephone call?” Mundy repeated. Tuck thought that he heard a sound
Tuck nodded. “If she doesn’t get it from outside the door. He started talking
she’s going to the police with her story. again, retelling his story, but Mundy
It’s a damned interesting story, too. Shall wasn’t listening to him. He was looking
I tell it to you ? It’s all about an overpass at Max Golding, and after a minute he
for the railroad at Mountain and Foothill nodded.
and about a man who was killed so that “All right, Max,” he agreed. “Ten
his wife wouldn’t have any excuse not grand.”
to sell out some valuable property.” Golding grinned. “Go get him, Lou!”
Mundy sucked in a sharp breath. “You
can’t prove a thing.”
“Can’t I?”
A GLINT of satisfaction came into
Lou Siegel’s eyes. He started to¬
“Not a damned thing.” ward Tuck. He still held his gun
“But it’s an interesting story, isn’t it?” in one hand and he was swinging it. Sud¬
Mundy again glanced at the two gun¬ denly he sprang forward, slashing down
men. “Get rid of this fellow. There’s with his gun in a vicious blow that
nothing to his story at all.” numbed Tuck’s shoulder as he tried to
Tuck leaned forward. “I’ve got to duck out of the way.
make my phone call in ten minutes. Would Tuck’s right hand was still swollen, but
The Devil’s Highway

he stabbed out with it desperately. He felt Dwyer, bring in the girl. One of you other
the bones crunch as he connected, and pain fellows phone for the doctor. Maybe
swam in his eyes. He lurched forward, there’s a chance to pull Mundy through.”
catching Siegel with his shoulder, and he
reeled off of the man and into Max Gold¬
ing who was charging toward him.
T UCK felt a little different when he
saw Sam Ballard in action this time.
This was the end. Tuck knew, but he He could look at the thing more
meant to make it a good end. He tore objectively. It wasn’t a very long session.
free of Golding, caught up a chair and Siegel caved in and talked, and even Max
hurled it at the man. He threw himself Golding.
at Mundy, tripped and went down, and it Then finally Sam Ballard came over to
was when he was on the floor, trying to where Tuck and Lucy were sitting.
get up, that he heard the voice from the “I reckon you kids can go,” he told
door—a loud, heavy voice—the voice of them. “You’ve done a good job, but don’t
Sam Ballard. ever try it again. What I can’t figure out
"Mind if I take a hand in this, too?” is why you didn’t come to me with your
Tuck got to his knees and then stood story any sooner.”
erect. Siegel, Golding and Mundy were “And what I can’t figure out,” said
all facing the door, and at the door, back Tuck, “is why you didn’t bust into this
of Ballard, were several other officers. room a little sooner.”
One of them was Detective Dwyer. Ballard grinned. “I busted in as soon as
Jim Mundy suddenly found his voice. I got here. I hadn’t heard a thing from
“I want this man arrested,” he said outside.”
sharply, pointing toward Tuck. “He broke “But you said—”
in here and demanded money.” “I had the whole story from your girl,
There was a tight, grim expression on McSpadden. She’s a convincing talker.
Sam Ballard’s face. She almost pulled my hair out when I
“I think I’m going to make several ar¬ wouldn’t believe her right away. Then I
rests,” he said flatly. “Yeah, I think I’m learned that it’s true about the overpass
going to make four. I heard a lot of in¬ and I rushed out here as quickly as I
teresting talk going on before I busted in could.”
here.” “What about the deeds Mundy got from
Mundy looked nervously around the Mrs. Hull?”
room. He tried one more threat. “I’ll “I’ll see that she’s protected.”
break you, officer. I’ll break you if it’s the “And we can go now?”
last thing I ever do. I’ve got lots of Ballard’s grin broadened. “Sure. I’ll
friends. I—” give you a lift in one of the police cars.”
“You’ll need those friends,” Ballard Lucy started them to the door, and
nodded. “Come along. All of you.” outside she whispered to Tuck, “Let’s
For an instant not a man in the room walk. I don’t want to ride. ”
moved, then Mundy jerked around and Tuck nodded and got rid of Dwyer.
fled toward , a side door, and without a The sun was still up. It wasn’t more than
change in expression, Ballard lifted his mid-afternoon but Tuck felt that a life¬
gun and shot him. Then he stared down time had passed since the evening before.
at the man. “You know, Lucy,” he said suddenly.
“This changes things,” he said, still in “Some day I’m going to buy that house in
his flat monotone. “I reckon we’ll stay front of our garage.”
here for a while and talk things over. “Let’s do it,” said Lucy. “Soon.”
CHAPTER ONE
prison honor farm. It had not rained for

D Killer Be Patient
URING the night spring had
crept north across the Arkansas
weeks. Dust rose in choking red clouds
from the drag points and the plodding
hoofs of the two big, blue, Missouri mules
border into Missouri. An al¬ that John Hanley followed warily.
most summer sun beat down upon the It was his first day on the prison farm.
90
New York bred, it was the first time that briefly, then scuffed on after his team.
he had ever been on any farm. He had "The suckers,” he grinned wryly.
played it smart. The honor farm was his “They trust me. They think I got hon¬
reward for three years of perfect behavior or.”
on an indeterminate sentence of one to An eighth of a mile away the highway
twenty years. He was alone in the field. wound, a white ribbon through the red
The unguarded farm cottage was a full clay of the hills. A solitary car roared
mile distant. Hanley glanced up at it down the road. Hanley followed it with
91
92 New Detective Magazine

envious eyes until it disappeared. The break and run. He glanced up at the
half-smile faded from his lips. No dame, farm cottage. There was no one to stop
not even Rita—especially not Rita—was him. But he knew he wouldn’t get very
going to play him for a sucker. He was far. He shook his head. No. Only a
too wise for that. punk would make a break like that. His
He made a mental vow: “I’m walk¬ other plan was better. He reviewed it
ing out of this rube crib and killing her quickly. It hadn’t a flaw that he could
and that Swede who Benny says she’s see. His lips twisted in a crooked grin.
going around with if I have to burn He thought, By this time tomorrow I’ll
in every state between here and Minne¬ be dead—legally dead. And the dead
sota.” He added, grimly certain, “And man will be roaring down the road to
I don’t think I’ll burn.” kill a two-timing blonde. “Be patient. I
Plodding through the heat and the red love you. Ha!”
dust that sifted into his eyes, his nose, He swung his team around awkwardly
his mouth, he thought of his wife as he and plodded back across the field. The
last had seen her. It had been through .38 that had been smuggled in to him
the wire mesh of the prisoner’s visiting chafed against the soft flesh of his inner
room in Jefferson City. She had been, thigh, where it was strapped, until the
as she always was, coolly beautiful. skin was raw and bleeding. But John
“I’ve a surprise for you, John,” he Hanley felt no pain. He had more im¬
mimicked her voice to the swishing tails portant matters on his mind. He would,
of the mules. “In fact I have two sur¬ John Hanley decided, start the ball roll¬
prises. But I won’t tell you now. I ing just before lights-out.
haven’t told you all this time because
you’d only worry. And I don’t want you
to worry, dear. I love you. Just be pa¬
J OHN HANLEY sat watching the
five other men in his cottage with
tient. We—I’m going to get you out of a twisted smile on his face. They
here. And then we’ll forget all this— were saps, suckers, all of them. They
and just be happy.” were actually grateful to the State of
Hanley flicked savagely with the reins Missouri for the privileges of sweating
at the backs of the sweating mules. “And all day behind a team of mules. Some of
like a damn sap, I believed her. I’ve be¬ them were even planning on buying
lieved her for three years. I’d still be farms of their own when they had served
believing her if Benny hadn’t blown in.” their sentences, or the paroles for which
The little dip’s words pounded through they had applied had been granted. They
his head: “Yeah. Sure. I’m tellin’ you, really liked farm life. For himself, one
Johnny. Rita’s quit the night club busi¬ day of it had been enough. He glanced
ness cold and she’s going around with at the clock. He was leaving—soon.
some big Swede named Olson who has Mack Benton, once one of the best
a little fishing camp in Minnesota. Chuck “soup” men in the business, looked up
seen her up there when he was hiding from the government pamphlet on fur¬
out after the Sioux City bank job.” bearing animals that he was studying
Hanley barked his shins on the bar with a beatific smile on his face.
of the drag. He looked up to find that “Gee. Listen to this, boys. Are beav¬
his team of mules had stopped at the ers smart! It says right here in this little
solitary strand of barbed wire that sepa¬ book that—”
rated the prison field from the highway. “Oh dry up!” John Hanley fired his
For a moment he was tempted to just opening gun. “Can’t you guys talk about
Big Shot 93

anything but hick stuff ? Ever since supper Johnny,” Harris warned him quietly.
all that you’ve talked about is mules and Hanley scowled over the top of his
cows and fertilizer and how much corn magazine. “To hell with lights-out!”
to an acre. So who cares? Who the hell Tim Harris sat on the edge of his
wants to know anything about beavers?” bunk, one heavy-soled shoe in his hand.
The big ex-safecracker laid the pam¬ “Careful now, Johnny,” he said. “Don’t
phlet down on the table and stood up. you be after doing anything to dirty up
“I do,” he said quietly. “I’m going to our record out here.”
have a fur farm when I get out of here. Hanley grinned thinly. “To hell with
Maybe muskrats. Maybe beavers. Maybe your record. You saps can do what you
silver foxes. Maybe even skunks. So like. Me, I’m taking the prison truck
what’s it to you, big-shot?” and I’m breaking out of here tonight.”
“Steady, Mack,” Tim Harris, the
trusty in charge of the honor farm cot¬ OR a moment no one spoke.
tage, said quietly. “Don’t let Hanley get Then Mack Benton said, “But you
your goat now. You know the rules about can’t do that, Hanley. You’ll get
fighting. And there ain’t none of us wants us all in wrong. We gave our word of
to give this up to go back to a cell.” honor to the warden.”
John Hanley said, “Baloney!” He lit Hanley hooted. “Your word of hon¬
a cigarette and smoked for a moment. or! Don’t make me laugh.” He tilted
Tim Harris laid his magazine upon his chair forward and his sharp eyes
the table and began to wind his watch. searched the circle of disapproving faces.
“Five minutes to lights-out, boys,” he “Any of you guys want to break out
yawned. with me?”
The other men got up, stretched, and Pete Cherborn, doing twenty years to
began slowly to undress. Hanley delib¬ life for murder, shook his head. He spoke
erately picked up a magazine and tilted for all of them as Hanley had known
his chair back against the wall. that one of them would do. “No. There
“I said, five minutes to lights-out, ain’t none of us that wants to break out,

Let us take you to—

THE MANSION OF MISSING MEN


where John Rawson, as Philip Morrison, discovered that
he was not only two men—but three. And, in the wildest,
weirdest murder puzzle ever concocted, all three were
scheduled to die! Wayne Rogers is the author.

Let us also show you how In the


DEATH BUILDS A STEEL CAGE Emile C. Tepperman introduces Ed Race in
in a thrilling novelette by Francis K. Allan. a thoroughly different mystery novelette, THE
TALISMAN OF MURDER; Richard Sale
lot STPAMCB presents OUT OF DARKNESS, an unusual
short story; Fredric Brown gives you PAR¬
DON MY GHOULISH LAUGHTER; and
Joe Kent tells of the DEAD MAN’S PLAGUE.

This great issue on sale December 31st!


94 New Detective Magazine

Hanley. And you aren’t breaking either.” He broke the silence with a question.
“No?” Hanley pushed back his chair “Sure that you don’t want to break out
and stood up. “Who’s going to stop me?” with me, Tim?”
“I will if I have to,” Benton told him. The old trusty didn’t even turn his
“For the first time in my life somebody head. “You aren’t breaking out, Hanley.
is treating me like a right guy. I mean You’ll be back in a cell by morning.
the warden. We all give him our word of You’re not a big-shot. You’re a sap.
honor. And we ain’t going to let him You’re not half as smart as you think
down.” you are. You—” He stopped short as
“Baloney,” Hanley sneered. He moved he felt the vicious prod of a gun barrel
warily toward the door, and Benton in his ribs. “Oh. A heater, eh?” was
thrust out his arm to stop him. Hanley all he said.
slapped it away with his left hand and “That’s right,” John Hanley agreed.
followed it with a right hook to the big “Now keep on driving until I tell you
man’s jaw. Benton rocked back on his to stop. And open this crate up. Push
heels and Hanley kicked over the table. down on that gas.”
He wanted it to look good. It did. Four The other man did as he was told. It
pairs of fists lashed out at him. One was all that he could do. They roared
heavy fist found his jaw. The lights in past several cars at sixty miles an hour.
the room flared up—and as suddenly Hanley scanned them closely. Both of
went out. them held couples. Both were driving
It was the slosh of water in his face slowly. Ten miles up the road they
that brought John Hanley to. His first passed a third car. It was a business
conscious thought was of his gun. He coupe. The driver was alone. He was
moved his right leg slightly. They hadn’t holding his car at fifty.
frisked him. The gun was still strapped “A salesman,” Hanley decided. “Pass
to his thigh. him,” he ordered, “then stop on the crest
Mack Benton’s face bent over him. of the next hill, right in the middle of
The big man was smiling. “What do you the road.”
say we forget it, huh? It was just the Harris swung around the other car but
heat and it being kinda strange out here shook his head. “You won’t get away
that got you.” with it, Johnny. And I won’t—” The
Hanley lashed up savagely at the jaw old trusty crumpled forward on the wheel
of the man above him. as Hanley swung his gun barrel in a
“Okay, Mack,” Tim Harris sighed. vicious, chopping arc.
“There’s only one thing we can do.
There’s no place out here to lock him up
so I’ll have to drive him in. One of you
T HE truck swerved wildly to the
right. Hanley fought the wheel
boys go get the truck.” across the trusty’s body to bring
Five minutes later, John Hanley was on it back into the road. He made it—just.
the first leg of his nine-hundred-mile jour¬ He braked the light truck to a stop. Har¬
ney north to kill the woman who had ris hadn’t moved. Hanley laid him flat
begged him to be patient. down on the seat, put the gun in his
Tim Harris drove in silence. John jumper pocket, and stepped out of the
Hanley sat working on the ropes with truck cab on the driver’s side just as the
which they had tied his hands. lights of the coupe behind him swung
The ropes around his wrists were al¬ up the hill and its driver braked it to a
most loose. stop.
Big Shot 95

The driver of the coupe leaned out the buretor until it spurted gasoline. That
window of his car. “Boy, were you he was about to commit a double murder
lucky,” he called. “When I saw you didn’t trouble him in the least. They
swerve I thought you were a goner. weren’t the first men he had killed.
What was it. Bud? A blow-out?” The lights of another car swept up
Hanley walked back towards the other the road a mile away, then disappeared
car. “Yeah. A bad one. For you.” He into a hollow. Hanley struck a match.
took the gun from his pocket, and the It spluttered and went out. He struck
smile froze on the salesman’s face. a second and it held a steady flame. He
“Okay, sucker. Out of your car and peel stepped back and tossed it in the spread¬
off your clothes!” ing pool of gasoline that dripped down
The salesman said, “The hell I will!” into the oil pan. There was a “whoosh”
He tried to duck back in his car. But and a sheet of flame shot skyward from
Hanley’s arm was faster. His gun swung the motor of the truck.
in a second vicious arc that ended just Hanley raced for the salesman’s car.
above the friendly salesman’s eye. He meshed it into low and nudged the
“Just a sucker,” Hanley repeated. He radiator grille up against the rear end of
dragged the limp form from the car. the truck. Already on a down-grade, the
He stripped the unconscious man to truck began to roll. Hanley switched
the skin and dressed him in his own off the lights of his stolen car and
dungarees, shirt and jumper. He worked watched it.
fast but without lost motion. Another A sheet of flame, the truck rolled over
car might come along at any moment and the bank. It rolled true for a moment.
he still had a lot to do. Dressed in the Then it toppled sideways and rolled end
other man’s clothes, he looked in his wal¬ over end. There was an explosion when
let. It contained eighty dollars and a it struck the bottom of the cut. A billow
gasoline credit card. The name was of flame leaped skyward.
Brown. “And that,” John Hanley said, “is
“Not bad,” Hanley admired. that.”
He shouldered the salesman’s still un¬ The whole affair had only taken a scant
conscious body and loaded it into the cab three minutes. He meshed his stolen
of the prison truck. He tied the wrists car into second and moved off down the
with the rope with which his own wrists road, eager to be off before the growing
had been tied. Then he cut the truck headlights of the approaching car had
wheels sharply to the right—toward a seen him. He hoped it was one of the
drop of fifty feet. He released the brake, petting couples. They would testify that
and shifted the gears to neutral. He the truck had passed them going sixty
yanked up the hood of the truck and re¬ miles an hour. Even if the dead Brown’s
membered he had forgotten his ring. He body wasn’t definitely identified as his
pulled the signet ring from his finger own it would pass muster until morning!
and forced it on the salesman’s finger. And by morning he would be five hun¬
The unconscious man moaned once in dred miles away.
pain. John Hanley shifted into high and
“That’s what you get for being a suck¬ stepped heavily on the gas. Even with¬
er and stopping on a lonely road at night,” out lights the white road was plainly
Hanley grinned. “This ought to wise visible. Make a sucker out of him, would
you up.” He slammed the truck door they? Well, Rita and the Swede had
shut and began to fumble with the car¬ another guess coming. No one could pull
96 New Detective Magazii

a fast one on John Hanley. He knew all “Darned if I didn’t forget it was Sat¬
the answers. urday,” Hanley grinned. “I’ll bet I’ll
He chuckled without mirth. “Be pa¬ have to wait an hour to get a shave.”
tient. Trust me! Ha!” He lighted a cigarette and strolled back

I T wasn’t much of a town. Hanley


had almost driven through it before
down the street toward the shop with
the red and white pole.
Six of the barber shop’s seven wooden
he realized that it was a town. The chairs were filled. The air was filled with
first-growth white pine, maple, and oak smoke and conversation. Hanley took
through which he had driven for hours off his coat with a cheerful, “Good eve¬
ended suddenly at a mill pond and a ning, gentlemen,” and sat down in the
grist mill. Beyond the mill was a single vacant chair. The buzz of conversation,
main street of scattered stores. There which had stopped when he walked in,
were two churches, three general stores, resumed. He picked up a newspaper and
a frame hotel, a barber shop, and a small, sat listening.
square, brick bank. At the far end of A big blond man was in the single
the street there was a school. Beyond barber chair, being shaved. He was the
the school the secondary gravel road only man in the shop who hadn’t an¬
wound again through virgin forest. swered Hanley’s greeting. He couldn’t.
Hanley could see no farms or houses. He had a hot towel on his face.
If there were any they were hidden in Rubes, Hanley thought, are a friendly
individual clearings in the woods. What bunch. They haven’t got brains enough
a smart girl like Rita could ever want in not to be.
such a place was beyond his understand¬ He tried to follow the thread of the
ing. It was a hideout. That was all it conversation. It didn’t make sense to
was. She had been afraid that he would him. They were talking some nonsense
find out about the Swede and make a about something called reciprocity and
break. tariff. And whatever it was, they seemed
He parked his car, the third he had to be in favor of it. The suckers even
stolen since leaving the honor farm, in knew how their congressmen and senators
front of the hotel and registered as Bill had voted on it.
Sayer. He turned to the farmer next to him
“A drummer, Mr. Sayer?” the aged and drove his opening wedge. “How
proprietor asked him. has the fishing been up here this spring?”
“That’s right,” Hanley nodded. “Not bad at all, stranger.” His neigh¬
He had timed himself to arrive just bor spat a wad of tobacco juice accurately
after dark. He wanted to ask about Ol¬ at the cuspidor. “I ain’t had time to wet
son and Rita, but he knew that it would¬ a line but they say the boys is bringing
n’t be wise. There were other ways that in some nice catches.”
a man who knew his way around could “I suppose,” Hanley said, “it all
find out things. He rubbed his fingers depends on knowing where to go.”
over the stubble on his chin. “That’s right, Mister,” the farmer
“I wonder if that barber shop is open?” agreed. “If a man don’t know the woods
The old hotel man chuckled. “You and lakes he’d best make inquiries of a
must have forgot this is Saturday, Mis¬ local man who does.”
ter. This is Dave’s big day, what with “Unless,” Hanley chuckled, “he’s one
all the squirrels coming in for their of those rich sports who can afford to
weekly shave.” hire a guide.” He grew purposely ad-
Big Shot 97

miring. “And you know. I’ve heard it “No siree,” the farmer winked. He
said in Minneapolis that some of the shielded his mouth with his hand. “She
best guides and fishing camps are right used to work in night clubs in New York,
up here in this neck of the woods.” and Chicago, and St. Louis, and those
“Some of the best,” the farmer en¬ towns until she got tied down the way
thused. “Why Jim Magnuson, and Tom she is.”
Peters, and Ace Molgard, and Swen “Tied down the way she is?”
Olson, they’re all local boys. They—”
The big Swede in the barber chair
“What was that last name?” Hanley
stood up and ran a red, hamlike hand
asked. around the back of an equally red neck
“Swen Olson,” the farmer repeated. while he studied his hair-cut in the mir¬
“That’s him, that big fellow up there ror.
in the barber chair now.” “You’re pretty enough, Swen,” the
barber told him. “It’s your natural beauty
CHAPTER TWO
that attracts the girls.”

Two He Couldn’t Kill Olson grinned good-naturedly but said

H ANLEY glanced casually at the


big man in the barber chair. So
nothing. The barber peered around his
smoke-filled shop. “All right, Tom.
You’re next, I think. You come in be¬
that was the Swede who was fore Sam did, didn’t you?”
Rita’s pal! A man in his middle thirties, The bearded farmer to whom Hanley
Olson was at once the biggest, the blond¬ had been talking took off his hat and
est, and the most stupid-looking Swede laid it on his chair. “Yes, I guess I did
whom Hanley had even seen. at that, Dave.” He began to unbutton
What the hell can Rita see in a lug the collar of his shirt. “I’ll tell you all
like that after being married to a guy like about it in a minute,” he whispered to
me? He said aloud, “So that’s Swen Hanley. He pointed to a boxed item on
Olson, eh ? Is his camp far out of town ?” the front page of the paper that Hanley
“Not far. Just about a mile back in was still holding. “That there is the fel¬
the woods.” The farmer dropped his low that she was married to. One of
voice confidentially. “But I hear he sold them public enemy fellows. A big-shot.”
his camp this morning.” Hanley stared at the item in the paper.
“No!” It read—
“Yes. For six thousand dollars cash.
Dave was telling us just before Swen JEFFERSON CITY—(AP)—John Han¬
came in that he heard that Swen and ley, sentenced in St. Louis in 1936(to an
indeterminate sentence of one to twenty
Rita is leaving these here parts for good years for bank robbery, and Timothy Har¬
tomorrow morning.” ris, a trusty at the Ozark Honor Farm,
were burned to death late last evening when
His blood pounding in his ears, Hanley the prison truck in which both men were
forced himself to ask calmly, “Rita—?” riding plunged off a fifty-foot embankment
“Uh-huh.” The farmer dropped his and caught fire.
It is believed that Hanley, who was be¬
voice still lower. “Swen is so crazy about ing returned to 'the penitentiary for disci¬
her that he’d do anything she told him pline, attempted to gain control of the truck
and in the ensuing struggle forced the
to. But wait until Swen goes out and truck off the road while it was traveling at
I’ll tell you all about it. You see, he an excessive rate of speed.
don’t let no one talk about her.” Identification of Hanley was made by a
signet ring on the charred finger of one
Hanley raised his eyebrows. of the corpses.
New Detective Magazine

“So I’m dumb, eh?” Hanley chuckled “You fellows watch my turn for me, will
to himself. He looked over the top of his you?” he grinned. He tossed his hat on
paper at Olson. The big man was put¬ the chair on which he had been sitting.
ting on his coat. In the inside pocket of
the coat was a thick, green sheaf of bank
notes. Hanley thought, Why wait? Why
O UTSIDE, Hanley smiled thinly in
the dark. He actually felt sorry
not trail the big Swede back to Rita and for the saps, they were so dumb.
make a profit on the deal? A couple of cheap stogies made him a
The more he thought of the idea, the great guy in their eyes.
better he liked it. He had come just in He looked up the street in the direc¬
time. Rita hadn’t lost a bit of time in tion that Olson had gone. The big man’s
getting ready to shake the pine needles broad shoulders were still visible in the
from her feet once she had read that he moonlight. As Hanley watched him, Ol¬
was dead. He could see her game now. son cut across the street and disappeared
She was just playing the big Swede for into the shadows. Hanley lit a cigarette,
a sucker, that was all. then followed slowly. If the affair took
Hanley calculated quickly. A man longer than he had estimated he would
could easily walk a mile in ten minutes. say that he had started for a stroll and
And the rube had said that Olson’s place gotten lost.
was a mile back in the woods. A walk He reached the spot where he had last
out there and back would take less than seen Olson, and found it was a path that
half an hour. Add five minutes to that led back toward the woods that crowded
to shoot Rita and the Swede, plus another in upon the little village on both sides.
ten minutes to dispose of their bodies, He glanced at the luminous dial of the
and the whole affair could be transacted cheap watch that he had bought in Min¬
in thirty-five minutes—say three quar¬ neapolis. He would give Olson a two-
ters of an hour at the most. And he could minute start. The lug looked simple but
be back in the barber shop with six grand he might be dangerous at close quarters.
in his pocket and as sweet an alibi as any Besides, he wanted to confront the two
wise guy ever had. of them together. His lips twisted in a
The door slammed after Olson. Han¬ crooked grin as he envisioned Rita’s face.
ley got up from his chair and slipped his “Be patient!” he snorted. “I love
coat back on. you. Ha!”
“Not walking out on us, are you, On the second of the expiration of the
Mister?” the barber asked. two minutes he started down the path.
“Hell no,” Hanley chuckled. He Two hundred feet from the main street
nudged the farmer, to whom he had been of the little village the path was far from
talking, “But after reading the article you as smooth or as well defined as it had
showed me about that guy Hanley burn¬ first looked in the moonlight. And once
ing up down in Missouri, I just hap¬ Hanley had reached the woods, the tall,
pened to remember that I didn’t lock my whispering pines closed in over his head
car. And boy, would my firm burn up and there was no moon. There was no
if someone swiped it!” sound but the whispering of the trees
There was a wave of mildly amused and the soft scuff of his feet on the fallen
laughter. needles. It was, Hanley decided, like
Hanley took a handful of cigars from walking on an inner spring mattress, but
his pocket and distributed them to the for an occasional root that reached out of
men sitting in the chairs against the wall. the dark to trip him. He wet his lips and
Big Shot 99

drew his gun. Nobody but a sucker and on a tree branch high above his head.
a rube would live in such a place. He He chuckled in relief. But his self-confi¬
walked on, cautiously feeling his way dence was gone. He strode on cautiously.
between the trees. The pond into which the small stream
In a small clearing where the moon¬ emptied was much larger than he had
light trickled through, he paused for imagined it to be. Hanley skirted the
breath. A dark shadow padded silently edge of it. He had to pick his way slowly
across the path. through the stumps of saplings. He
“Damn!” Hanley swore in supersti¬ stepped on a dry branch. It cracked like
tious awe. Then he breathed deeply in a pistol shot underneath his weight. On
relief. It wasn’t a black cat after all. It the bank of the pond a dark shape
was a black and white cat with a broad slapped its flat tail suddenly against the
white stripe that ran from the tip of its water in the signal of alarm. A dozen
nose to the tip of its tail. Hanley kicked glistening bodies dove into the water.
out at it. “Gwan, you alley rabbit. Hanley watched them swimming through
Scram!” the moonlight-silvered water toward
Out of range of his kick the animal half a dozen mounds of sticks, and reeds,
padded on placidly. Hanley crossed the and mud that rose above the surface of
clearing. According to his' calculation he the pond.
must have come half way. He looked at “Rats,” he decided. “Big water rats of
his watch. He would have to make bet¬ some kind. Maybe those musk rats like
ter time. It had taken him twelve min¬ Mack was always reading about on the
utes to walk half a mile. farm. ”
He increased the length of his stride.
Beyond the tiny clearing the path turned
to parallel a narrow stream that gurgled
H E stared across the pond. The
lights of a cottage were plainly
through a boulder-littered bed. The moon¬ visible through the trees. He even
light was stronger here. The stream thought that he saw Rita pass a window.
seemed to end in a large and placid pond. He continued to edge around the pond
Beyond the pond Hanley thought he to where it seemed to narrow — and
could see the lights of a cottage through bridged across its lower end. It was
the trees. He strode on boldly now, dammed. Hanley walked cautiously across
whipping his nerves into a killing frenzy. the dam top. He had to pick his way
“Run out on me, would she? Kid me across interlaced branches of trees plas¬
along about surprises, would she? Well, tered with mud. It was a hell of a dam,
we’ll see how she likes my surprise. he decided. He had seen much better
I’ll —- ” Hanley whirled frantically, ones made of concrete in the movies. He
thumbing at the safety catch of his gun stepped across the narrow spillway over
as an owl blasted the air above his head which a silver trickle of water fell in a
with a derisive, mournful hoot. miniature falls, to wind its interrupted
“Now what the hell was that?” he de¬ way downhill past Swen Olson’s cottage
manded of the darkness. toward a dark and silent lake. Hanley
There was no answer but the whis¬ was struck by sudden inspiration. He
pering and the sighing of the wind in stopped and wrenched a long pole from
the tall pines. Hanley stood panting, the framework of the dam. He jabbed it
cold sweat trickling down his spine until down into the water by the spillway. The
his sharp eyes ferreted out a pair of pole was a good fifteen feet in length. Yet
round and solemn yellow eyes glowing he could not touch bottom.
100 New Detective Magazine

“Perfect,” Hanley grinned. His gun The gun in his hand leaped into life as
in his hand, he strode silently down the he deliberately triggered three times.
hill toward the lighted cottage. The girl’s body twitched with each
The woman he had seen against a win¬ shot. A vacuous smile parted her lips.
dow had been Rita. She was as beautiful She stretched out a work-reddened hand
as ever. But she was a somehow different as if in puzzled protest. Then, her other
Rita from the glittering night club singer hand clasped to her riddled breast, she slid
he had known. Her flaxen hair was slowly down the wall to the floor.
wound in simple braids around her head. A strangled, inarticulate cry of grief
Her traveling suit was smart. But her was torn from the big man’s lips. He
brittleness was gone. There was a gentle charged the window as Hanley had known
sweetness in her face and in her once that he would do. It was as simple as
cold, blue eyes that Hanley had never shooting the broad side of a barn. Hanley
seen before. As Hanley watched her emptied the remaining bullets in his clip
through the window, Olson entered the into Olson’s chest. The fishing guide fell
room from an adjoining screened-in across the sill, his sightless eyes almost in
porch. Hanley’s face.
The big man loved her. It showed in “And that,” Hanley smiled his twisted
every move and look, in every nerve and smile, “is that.” He dropped his gun into
muscle in his face. Hanley could not his pocket and looked at his watch. Des¬
hear what she was saying but he could pite his slowness on the trail, the whole
see the girl’s lips move. The big Swede affair had only taken half an hour. He
nodded and patted the breast pocket could still be back in the barber shop with
where Hanley had seen the sheaf of bills. the six grand in his pocket long before
Rita put her arms around the big man’s the barber called his turn. All that there
neck and kissed him. remained to do was to dispose of the two
Hanley wondered idly if it could really bodies. Whistling softly, he walked around
be that Rita loved the sucker. He shook to the front door of the cottage. It all just
his head. It didn’t matter. Only saps went to show what a lad who knew his
went in for the love stuff. With him it way around could do.
was a matter of pride. No dame, ndt
even Rita—especially not Rita—was go¬
ing to make a sucker out of him. He
S TILL whistling softly, Hanley riffled
through the sheaf of bills that he had
raised his automatic and drew a bead on taken out of Olson’s pocket. His
the heart of the big Swede. Then he whistling broke off sharply as his pursed
slid up the window softly. lips straightened in a thin, hard line.
“Hello, honey,” he called. “Surprise! “What the hell ?” He finished his rough
Papa’s home.” count. “There’s no six grand here. I make
Both the girl and Olson turned slowly. it an even five hundred.” He felt cheated,
The girl stared at the face framed in the robbed.
window as if she were looking at a ghost. He counted it again. It still came
She thought she was. She stepped back out five hundred.
out of Olson’s arms and leaned against He put the sheaf of bills in his own
the wall. pocket and tumbled Olson’s body out of
“Johnny,” she said softly. Then, the window to the ground. If he dumped
“You’re dead.” Rita’s and Olson’s bodies in the pond, they
“No,” Hanley shook his head. “But wouldn’t be found for years, if ever. The
you are. ‘Be patient. I love you.’ Ha!” locals would merely think that they had
Big Shot 101

gone away just as they had intended to. erating so much air. Their stiffs weren’t
He tore a blanket from the bed and laid weighted enough and popped up at em¬
Rita’s body on it, after noticing that she barrassing moments. He hadn’t made that
had bled some on the floor. After dispos¬ mistake. Rita and Olson would stay put.
ing of their bodies it might be best if he Using two heavy poles as a skid to keep
came back to the cottage and tidied up a the bodies from catching on the crude
bit. There was every possibility that, being framework of the dam, he slid them into
the smart dame that she had been, Rita the water one after the other. They dis¬
had the other five grand and a half hid appeared from sight with a satisfying
away somewhere. He made certain that it gurgle.
wasn’t on her body. To hell with his Outside the cottage he paused and lis¬
barber shop alibi. If there was no corpus tened to the night. He had, he realized
delicti he would need no alibi. He would with a start of pride, committed two per¬
simply say that after locking his car he fect murders. Four perfect murders, he
had gone for a breath of air and gotten corrected, his own included. He swag¬
lost. He shouldered Rita’s body and tore gered up the steps of the cottage, and after
a coil of rope off of the wall. At least he washing up the blood on the spot where
had accomplished what he had started out Rita had lain, he began a methodical
to do. Rita would have a long time to be search of Rita’s and Olson’s personal
patient. Two-time him, would she? effects.

P ANTING slightly from his exer¬


tions, John Hanley lighted a ciga¬
That Olson had sold his fishing camp
and the adjoining one hundred and sixty
acres for six thousand dollars, Hanley dis¬
rette and examined his handiwork covered by searching Olson’s desk. The
in the match flare. Rita and Olson lay rube in the barber shop had been right.
side by side on the dam, bound with rope, The duplicate sales contract was dated
and weighted down with heavy stones. that day. Hanley thumbed the five hun¬
He had done, he decided, a darn good job. dred dollars in his pocket as he stared
Most fellows didn’t allow for a body gen¬ around the room. The remaining five and

“THE KID FROM NO MAN’S LAND”


THE flaming world of sudden death, where
this morning’s hero is a mound of ash on the
morrow, there’s one force like a drug that drives
men on—Glory! . . . When a fighter values glory
above his own life, that is fervent devotion to
duty, but when he ranks fame and a tin medal
above his own honor, he’s nothing but a glory¬
grabbing fool, risking the necks of his mates as well as his own. . . . Heres
warbird who learned the difference—when it was almost too late. Don t miss Lance
Kermit’s gripping novel of modern sky combat.

Also In This Issue:


“Battle Station—Death!” by Ray P.
Shotwell; “Glory Road,” a novel of
Yankee wings over the Burma Road;
plus many top-notch stories of the First
and Second World Wars by the best
authors of air fiction you will find any¬
where!
102 New Detective Magazine

a half thousand had to be hidden some¬ youngsters, hand in hand, regarded him
where. But where? The cottage wasn’t gravely from the doorway of the screened-
large. It contained a combination living in sleeping porch. They were dressed
room and kitchen, two bed rooms, and a alike in woolen sleeping garments. They
screened-in sleeping porch. Hanley looked like twins. They were. They were
glanced out on the porch. It was dark. a boy and girl. As Hanley stared at them,
There seemed to be nothing out there but the boy smiled up at him with an ingra¬
a double bed. He doubted the money was tiating smile. “Are you our daddy, Mis¬
hidden there. It was more likely to be ter?” he repeated.
among Rita’s silk underthings. Hanley Hanley fought his panic. He asked,
recalled that Rita had always had a habit “And who the hell are you?”
of hiding money in her dresser drawers. The little girl shook her blonde curls
He yanked open several dresser drawers disapprovingly. “ ’At’s not a nice word,
and scowled. There were no sheafs of Mister. Mama says it’s naughty.”
money tucked away between them. “Who are you?” Hanley repeated.
He saw her purse where it had fallen The girl pointed at her well-rounded
on the floor by the fireplace. He opened little stomach with a dimpled finger. “Me,
it. It contained forty-five dollars in small I’m Wita.”
bills, and a folded, crumpled envelope, “She means Rita,” the boy informed
addressed to himself. He put the bills in him gravely. “I’m John. We’re twins.”
his pants pocket and the letter to himself He added with all the wistfulness of three.
with the sheaf of bills in his breast pocket. “I hope you are our daddy, Mister. Ma¬
He would read it for a laugh once he was ma says he’s coming soon.”
safely out of town. She probably had Hanley dropped his gun into his pocket
written it before she had read that he was and leaned against the door jamb. Rita’s
dead. face, through the wire mesh of the prison¬
He spent the next ten minutes search¬ er’s visiting room in Jefferson City, leaped
ing the combination living room and suddenly out at him until it blinded him
kitchen and both bedrooms. He was care¬ and filled the room. He heard her say,
ful to wear his gloves and replace every¬ “I’ve a surprise for you, John. In fact I
thing where he had found it. But the have two surprises. I haven’t told you dll
money was not to be found. He looked at this time because you’d only worry. And
his watch. He had been gone from town I don’t want you to worry, dear. I love
almost an hour. He wasn’t being smart you. Just be patient. We—I’m going to
by staying where he was. get you out of here.” And these were
“To hell with the rest of the money,” Rita’s surprises. These were the reasons
he repeated. He would go back to town why she hadn’t shown up during the last
up that infernal trail, avoid the barber months just before his trial. She had said
shop entirely, climb in his stolen car, step that she was sick. Hanley felt a surging
on the gas and be in Minneapolis by morn¬ wave of anger. Why hadn’t the damn fool
ing. Hanley opened the screen door. told him ? What had she meant by having
He took one step and stopped as a small kids?
voice in back of him asked, “Are you our The twins, his twins, walked closer to
daddy, Mister?” him, still hand in hand. The little girl had

H ANLEY turned, his finger tight¬


ening on the trigger of his gun.
suddenly realized that her mother wasn’t
there. Tears glistened in her eyes.
“Where’s my mama?” she asked.
Two sleepy-eyed, tow-headed “She’s gone for a walk,” Hanley told
Big Shot 103

her curtly. He felt no pride of parenthood, wouldn’t deliberately run off and leave
only a mounting anger. Rita had had one her children behind her. He opened the
hell of a lot of nerve taking his kids and screen door.
coming up here in the sticks to live with “I want my mama. I want a d’ink of
another man. He was glad that he had water,” the miniature replica of Rita with
killed her. She had shown no sense of the long yellow curls sobbed loudly.
decency at all. He fumbled in his pocket “Okay, okay. Just shut up,” Hanley
for the last letter she had written him hushed her. He scooped a dipper of water
and never mailed. He tore it open. from a pail on the kitchen table and
“I want a d’ink,” the little girl said. handed it to the infant. “Here’s your
“Shut up!” Hanley told her. drink of water. Now you two kids get
The little girl began to cry, softly. The back in bed and go to sleep. I told you
little boy shook his head. that your mama had gone out for a walk.”
The little girl drank noisily. The boy
“I don’t think you are our papa,” he
stood scowling at him.
informed Hanley gravely. “Our mama
“I don’t like you,” he told Hanley.
says he’s nice.”
“You are a bad man. You get out of
Hanley skimmed through the letter. It
here.”
was brief and blotched as if with tears. It
Hanley grinned despite his mounting
read in part—
impatience to be gone. “You’re a spunky
little devil, aren’t you, son? A big-shot,
Dearest sweetheart:
eh? Just like your old man.” Struck by
. . . can’t write much, I’m so happy
. . . wanted you to know . . . Governor a sudden thought, he walked out on the
has promised me . . . says your record sleeping porch and searched the bed in
has been perfect . . . next meeting of the
parole board . . . place all ready . . . which the children had been sleeping. The
so quiet and peaceful- . . . fresh start in money wasn’t there. The children fol¬
life . . . still won’t tell you my surprise
. . . will explain— lowed him, wide-eyed. Hanley left them
standing in the middle of the floor, the
Hanley crumpled the letter into a ball boy’s arm around his sister.
and dropped it back into his pocket. “They’re cute little devils at that,”
“She’d explain, would she?” he jeered. Hanley mused grimly as he followed the
“Yeah. Sure she would. I suppose she’d gurgling brook uphill to the dam across
have told me that Olson was her brother.” the pond. He put them out of his mind.
He hooted derisively, then scowled down “But to hell with them. Let one of the
at the twins. “A sweet jam she’s gotten rubes bring them up. I’ll never see them
me into. Why didn't she tell me that they again.”
were going to grant me a parole?” He crossed the dam across the bottle¬
He had a growing feeling that for once neck of the pond without a glance at the
in his life John Hanley had outsmarted placid water back of the spill-way. He
John Hanley. Now there was only one knew what was under the water. On the
thing that he could do, the smart thing, opposite side of the dam he paused briefly
the wise thing to do. That was to put as and looked out over the silver sheet of
many miles between himself and the cot¬ reflected moonlight. Far out on the pond,
tage in the woods as he possibly could by on one of the heaped up mounds of sticks
morning. No man, not even a hard-boiled and mud, the big, flat-tailed “rats” were
egg like himself, could deliberately knock holding a conference. Hanley averted his
off his own kids. And even the rubes, as eyes and strode on. He felt slightly sick
dumb as they were, would know that Rita to his stomach. He had committed two
104 New Detective Magazine

perfect murders. But for the first time in consciousness his nose began to twitch.
his life John Hanley wished he hadn’t He retched subconsciously and sat up. His
been quite so smart. He was to wish it head ached vilely. His eyes were filmed
more than once before the night was over. by the same oily excretion that covered
the entire front of his suit.
CHAPTER THREE He fumbled frantically through his sul¬
lied clothes for his matches. He found
Death Gets His Due that he had three. He struck one, and the

I T WAS the black and white “cat”


who began it. John Hanley had
night around him leaped briefly into
bright reality only to fade back into a
shapeless black void with the flickering
reached that section of the back trail of the match. Hanley got up slowly.
where it turned sharply from the brook “Now what the hell am I going to do ?”
and wound through the towering masts of he puzzled. He decided that there was
first-growth pine. His pace had increased, only one thing that he could do. That was
and his mood had grown steadily worse to continue to the village and buy a change
since leaving the pond. If only Rita had of clothes before he roared on out of town.
told him about the children. But she He couldn’t stand the smell of those that
hadn’t. And now she was dead. The si¬ he was wearing much longer. He struck a
lence of the night began to seep in through second match to make certain of the trail.
his pores and chill his blood. He walked There was no trail.
still faster. He wanted lights, and music, He took several tentative steps and
and noise. And he meant to have them. stopped. The tall masts of the trees
There was nothing to stop him. He had seemed to form a solid wall. For a moment
five hundred dollars. He had a gun. He he fought panic. Then he grinned despite
was legally dead. He was only half a his nausea. Of course. He was just turned
mile from the little village in the long, around, that was all. He retraced his
narrow slash of clearing in the virgin steps. And still there was no trail, well
timber. He would be in his car and on his defined or otherwise.
trail.
“Oh, that same damn black cat again,
eh?” John Hanley swore. He took two
H IS receding panic returned. He had
to find the trail. He struck his
swift steps and kicked it. There was no third, and only remaining match—
outraged “meow.” Instead, a spray of in vain. There were only the tall trunks of
blinding, nauseating mist enveloped him. trees that met in a high cathedral arch of
Hanley gagged and clawed at his burning green -above his head. Hanley forced him¬
eyes. For a moment he thought it was self to think, and partially succeeded.
tear gas. He knew it wasn’t by the smell. From where he had stood on the trail
Blinded, he tripped to his knees, staggered when he had kicked the “cat” he could
to his feet, took a dozen fleeing steps and still hear the babbling of the brook that
ran his head into a tree. Stars'shot out emptied into the pond. If he could find
of the darkness where there had been not the brook, he could find the trail.
stars before. Then all was dark again as The night that had been silent was per¬
a cloud bank drove across the moon. versely full of sound. A wind had sprung
The skunk padded contemptuously on up again. The tall pines whispered confi¬
her way across the undulating carpet of dentially in the vaulted arch above his
pine needles. Hanley lay where he had head. A screech owl began its low and
fallen for long minutes. With returning mournful whistle. There was a crashing
Big Shot 105

and a thrashing in a pile of brush not far come up and live in such a place, the whole
away. thing would never have happened.
Cold sweat stood out in beads on Han¬ “I’ll climb a tree,” he thought, “and
ley’s forehead. One hand stretched grop¬ spot the lights of the village. I was dumb
ingly before him, he walked in the opposite not to think of that before.”
direction, casting furtive glances back into He got up from the log and, choosing
the night. He remembered that he had a tree that seemed somewhat less in cir¬
been listening for the sound of running cumference than its fellows, he tried to
water and forced himself to stop. There climb it. Fifteen minutes later he was
was no sound of running water. back upon the ground with his hands raw
“To hell with finding the trail,” he and bleeding and his clothes half torn
swore. The village and his car were less from him. All he had seen was a glimpse
than a mile away. All that he had to do of moonlight through an endless roof of
was to walk through the woods in the green. He gave it up and walked on wear¬
right direction until he came out on the ily. The woods couldn’t last forever. He
road. But which was the right direction? had to come out somewhere.
Hanley decided that it was Straight ahead He did. It was just at dawn after a
and slightly to his right. He groped his night of terror such as he had never
way forward cautiously. known before.
At the end of an hour Hanley knew Hanley stared at the vast expanse of
that he had been wrong. He was lost. blood-red water in the dawn, a meek and
Hanley sat down on a fallen tree trunk, chastened big-shot. A rabbit could have
over which he had stumbled. He had kicked him. One shoe and his gun were
never been so tired in all his life—nor so gone. The shoe he had lost in a cedar bog
frightened. It was all Rita’s fault, he de¬ through which he had floundered for
cided. If she hadn’t two-timed him to hours. He didn’t know where he had lost

Statement of the ownershi ■illation, etc., required by the Acts of Congr


August 24, 1912, and March 3, 1933, of New Detective Magazine, published bi-monthly at Chicago,
Illinois, for October 1, 1941. State of New York, county of New York, ss. Before me, a Notary
Public in and for the State and county aforesaid, personally appeared Harold S. Goldsmith, who
having been duly sworn according to law, deposes and says that he is the Business Manager of the
New Detective Magazine, and that the following is, to the best of his knowledge and belief, a true
statement of the ownership, management, etc., of the aforesaid publication for the date shown in
the above caption, required by the Act of August 24, 1912, as amended by the Act of March 3,
1933, embodied in section 537, Postal Laws and Regulations, printed on reverse of this form, to
wit: 1, That the names and addresses of the publisher, editor, managing editor, and business man¬
agers are: Publisher, Fictioneers Inc., 210 East 43rd Street, New York, N. Y, Editor, Henry
Steeger, 210 East 43rd Street, New York, N. Y. Managing Editor, none. Business Manager,
Harold S. Goldsmith, 210 East 43rd Street, New York, N. Y. 2. That the owner is: Fictioneera
Inc., 210 East 43rd Street, New York, N. Y., Henry Steeger, 210 East 43rd Street, New York,
N. Y., Harold S. Goldsmith, 210 East 43rd Street, New York, N. Y. 3. That the known
bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders owning or holding 1 per cent or more of total
amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securities are: none. 4. That the two paragraphs next above,
giving the names of the owners, stockholders, and security holders, if any, contain not only the list
of stockholders and security holders as they appear upon the books of the company but also, in
cases where the stockholder or security holder appears upon the books of the company as trustee
or in any other fiduciary relation, the name of the person or corporation for whom such trustee is
acting, is given; also that the said two paragraphs contain statements embracing affiants full
knowledge and belief as to the circumstances and conditions under which stockholders and security
holders who do.not appear upon the books of the company as trustees, hold stock and securities
in a capacity other than that of a bona fide owner, and this affiant has no reason to believe that
any other person, association, or corporation has any interest, direct or indirect, in the said stock,
bonds, or other securities than as so stated by him. Harold S. Goldsmith, Business Manager.
Sworn to and subscribed before me this 29th day of September, 1941. Eva M. Walker, Notary
Public, New York County Clerk’s No. 26, Register’s No. 2-W-178. (My commission expires March
30, 1942.) [Seal]—Form 3526—Ed. 1933.
106 New Detective Magazine

his gun. He imagined it had been in the “you look like you’ve had a heck of a
briar patch that had torn the pocket right night.” He wrapped his coat around Han¬
off his coat. And the rubes were wise to ley’s shoulders. “When you didn’t come
him. They had found out somehow that back we figured that you’d gone for a walk
he had knocked off Rita and the Swede. and gotten lost. Didn’t you hear us shoot¬
Since midnight the woods had been full of ing all night long? We’ve been looking
gunfire. There would be three shots. And for you since midnight.”
then a pause. Then the three shots would Hanley said nothing. He couldn’t. The
be repeated. A twisted smile pulled down suckers were still friendly. They didn’t
the corners of Hanley’s battered lips. But know about Rita and Olson. He had been
they hadn’t gotten him yet. The rubes a sap to think that they did. There was
had just been firing blindly in the dark to no way that they could know. When John
try and scare him. Hanley sunk a body it stayed sunk. He

H E LIMPED along the shore of the


lake. One of his eyes was black.
tried to smile and succeeded wanly.
"Here.” The young farmer handed him
a flask. “Take a suck on that. Mister. I
He would have sworn that a bear know ’bout how you feel.”
had cuffed him with his paw. It wasn’t One by one a dozen other farmers
a bear but a leaf on the end of a tree thrashed out of the fringe of brush that
branch that had slipped out of Hanley’s skirted the lake shore. Among them was
hand. The dawn was cold. Hanley pulled Hanley’s grizzled, bearded friend. He,
the lapels of his torn coat up around his too, carried a shotgun.
neck and retched. The smell was as strong “Dawgone if you ain’t had a tough
as ever. He rounded a curve in the lake time,” he sympathized. And added as a
shore, his eyes upon his feet. A whooping sop to Hanley’s pride, “It’s so plague-
shout froze him in his tracks. His hand taked easy to get lost up here if a fellow
fumbled mechanically at the pocket where doesn’t know the woods.”
his gun had been. A tall, young farmer, “We’d better get some hot coffee into
well muffled in a sheepskin-collared leath¬ him,” one of the farmers suggested. “It
er jacket, was striding toward him, a won’t take the pole cat smell away but
double-barreled shotgun held lightly in it’ll make him feel a lot better. He’s so
the crook of his arm. Hanley recognized beat down now his teeth is chattering.”
him as one of the rubes who had been “I am cold,” Hanley admitted. “And
talking about reciprocity and tariff in the I don’t smell like a rose. I kicked a black
barber shop on the night before. The and white kitten in the nose and it back¬
young farmer raised his gun and emptied fired.”
both barrels into the air. They moved down the lake shore in a
“Here he is, fellows,” he shouted. He body. Hanley’s self-confidence returned
strode a few steps closer and whooped with every step he took. He was miles
with laughter. “An’ by God if he ain’t away from Olson’s cottage. In another
tangled with a pole cat.” hour he could be fed, bathed, have a
Hanley considered flight while the other change of clothes and be on his way. It
man’s gun was empty and decided against all just went to show that if a smart lad
it. He just couldn’t take any more. A kept his head he-could wiggle out of any¬
moment later he was glad of his decision. thing. He felt no gratitude toward the
The young farmer came striding toward men who had found him. They were saps
him, shucking his jacket as he came. in his estimation. No one but rubes and
“Why you poor guy,” he sympathized, suckers would spend a night thrashing
Big Shot 107

through the woods in search of a man got a man out here who’s been lost in the
whom they didn’t even know. woods all night and needs some coffee.”
They rounded a small point jutting out There was no answer from the cottage.
into the lake, and Hanley saw a cottage “That’s funny,” Hanley’s acquaintance
built back from the shore on the slope of puzzled. "Swen’s usually up at crack of
a little hill. dawn. I wonder if him and Rita could
have left to drive to Hanley’s funeral.”
| ' HAT’S Swen Olson’s place. “Yeah. Sure,” Hanley agreed. “That’s
I You know, the fellow we were probably just what happened. They—”
talking about in the barber He stopped and ran his tongue over sud¬
shop,” Hanley’s bearded acquaintance denly dry lips as the screen door of the
told him. “Swen’s lived there for three cottage opened and the twins walked out
years with his sister, her who was married on the steps. Even in the half-light of
to that big-shot gunman, John Hanley.” dawn there wasn’t a farmer present who
He dropped his voice confidentially. “I could not see that the infant’s cheeks were
heard after you went out last night that grimy with dried tears.
the reason Swen sold his place was that The girl sat down on the top step rub¬
his sister wanted the money to give Han¬ bing at her red-rimmed eyes with dimpled,
ley a big-shot’s funeral.” baby fists. The boy regarded the farmers
“That’s right, Tom.” The farmer on gravely.
the other side of Hanley joined the con¬ “Uncle Swen’s not home,” he told
versation. “It seemed that Rita thought them. “And neither is our mama. They
that this would be a good place for Hanley have both been gone all night.”
to get a fresh start in life. But when she “They have both been gone all night,
read that he had burned up down there in John?” the grizzled farmer asked.
Missouri she couldn’t abide to stay. I was The boy saw Hanley. He pointed a
in the bank when Swen sent a draft for chubby finger at him.
five thousand, five hundred dollars to the He said, “Yes, sir, Mister Ferris. Ma¬
undertaker in St. Louis who has charge ma put Rita and me to sleep. An’ 'en
of Hanley’s funeral.” there was some noise an’ shootin’, an’
John Hanley said nothing. He was we woke up. An’ mama an’ Uncle Swen
gagging—and it wasn’t on essence of were gone an’ that there man was here.”
skunk. He had walked all night in a Hanley felt his heart miss a beat as he
circle to learn that Olson was Rita’s looked around the circle of unsmiling
brother, and that the salesman whom he faces. He laughed, over-loudly. “The kid
had murdered in Missouri was getting a must be talking in his sleep. I never even
five thousand, five hundred dollar funeral. saw this cottage before. I—I didn’t see a
Rita had loved him, had been true to him. living soul all night except that pole cat.
“A fine boy, Swen,” the bearded farmer And the pole cat saw me first.”
nodded. “And mighty loyal to his sister None of the farmers laughed with him.
and her children. Nice children, too,” he An awkward silence followed.
added. “Not that either Rita or Swen The little girl broke it with a sniff. She
would ever give them up, but I’d like to took her fists out of her eyes and stared at
have the pair of them to raise even if their Hanley. “An’ we think maybe he’s our
father was a big-shot gunman.” daddy.” She began to cry. “He told us
The young farmer who had first found that he wasn’t. But mama said we’d see
Hanley cupped his hands and called, him soon an’ he looks just like the picture
“Hey, in there! Wake up, Swen. We’ve in my wocket.”
108 New Detective Magazine

"She means her locket,” John ex¬ panic. He had been a fool to keep the
plained. money. But unless they found the bodies
The young farmer strode up to the he still was in the clear. They couldn’t
steps and sat down beside the little girl. pin one damn thing on him. Money knew
“Let me see the picture, will you, sis?” no owner. He waited for someone to
he smiled. speak. No one said a thing. There was
The infant fumbled at her tiny, heart- no sound but the gurgling of the brook
shaped locket hanging from the chain that trickled downhill from the pond. And
around her neck. The young farmer looked even that was magnified. To Hanley’s
at the picture it contained and then at screaming nerves the gurgle and the bab¬
Hanley, He snapped it shut again and ble seemed to grow until it was a roaring
nodded at Ferris. “Take the kids inside stream.
the cottage for a few minutes, will you, “I,” he broke the silence. “I—” He
Tom?” saw that none of them were looking at

T HE twins allowed themselves to be


led back into the cottage. The young
him. They were looking at the brook.
It hadn’t been his nerves. The roar was
real. The brook, that a moment before
farmer walked back to Hanley. He had been a mere trickle of silver, had be¬
took his leather coat off the gunman’s come a torrent of foaming white water
shoulders and tossed it on the ground. carrying a crest of mud-plastered branches
His lean, muscled face was working and debris. Hanley’s eyes followed those
strangely. of the farmers slowly uphill to the dam. Or
“All right,” he said. “Start talking, rather, to where the dam had been. Bro¬
Hanley.” ken in the middle at the spillway, it was
“I tell you the kid is mistaken,” Hanley washing away rapidly. Water poured
blustered. “And so are you if you think through the enlarged spillway in a torrent,
I’m Hanley. Hanley is dead. He was ate great mouthfuls out of either side.
burned to death in Missouri.” And in the exact center of the spillway,
The young farmer turned from Hanley the target of the waters, the bodies of Rita
to the circle of staring men. “Any of you and Swen Olson bobbed and twisted as
boys know exactly how much money if they were alive.
Swen was carrying when he left the barber The young farmer’s lean face twisted
shop last night?” in a bitter smile. "You sap. You sucker,”
“Five hundred dollars in new twenty he told Hanley. “Didn’t you know any
dollar bills,” one of them told him. “I better than to try and hide their bodies
know. Swen showed them to me.” there ? Didn’t you know that beavers will
The young farmer thrust a muscular never stand for any foreign substance in
finger up against a rent in Hanley’s coat. their ponds, that they will break their dam
“Let’s just see what that green is that’s if they have to to try and wash it out?”
showing through that hole in your inside The circle of farmers closed in slowly.
pocket, Mister.” Before Hanley could step Their faces were no longer friendly. They
back, the young farmer pulled the sheaf held their guns like clubs. Hanley could
of bills from his pocket and tossed it to read their intention in their eyes.
one of men. “Count it and tell us how “You can’t do this to me,” he whined.
much is there, Jerry.” “You can’t do this to me. It’s murder.”
“Five hundred dollars,” Jerry counted. “No. You’re already dead,” the young
“All of it in new twenty dollar bills.” farmer told him gravely. “You died down
Gray-faced with fear, Hanley fought in Missouri.”
Pay Day Pay-Off
By Daniel Winters
“You want your boy friend, copper? Go down
that alley and pick up what you find. You’ve
seen the last of Willy Nolan—alive!”

“Keep your hands where I


can see ’em, or I’ll—”

The girl said, “Pop didn’t come home


for supper, Eddie.”
Eddie looked at his watch. He looked

E DDIE BROWN reached for the


phone which was ringing on his
at the calendar on the wall. It was Fri¬
day and it was the fifteenth of the month.
He couldn’t be wrong about this. It had

desk at headquarters. He said, to be pay day.


“Detective Brown speaking.” He said, “Look, Mary, call up Quinn’s.
A girl’s voice answered him. He knew He’s probably tied a bit of a bag on.”
The girl said, “I’ve called Quinn’s.
it well.
109
110 New Detective Magazine

He isn’t there. They haven’t seen him.” on which he had worked all his life. The
Eddie nodded. “Call O’Rourke’s.” docks which, Eddie knew, big Pat now
The girl told him, “I’ve called virtually controlled through his influence
O’Rourke’s. He hasn’t been at Quinn’s in the union. Pat Ryan had brought the
or O’Rourke’s or Mahoney’s or Kelly’s. dockworkers’ union into life practically
I’m a little worried.” by himself, and his voice in its business
“He’s had pay days before this,” Eddie was strong. He was a benign tyrant,
said. He knew the information was Eddie knew. He was as honest as a
small comfort. “Sometimes he meets peo¬ silver dollar, and he could smell a phony
ple.” deal a mile away. His union was tough
The girl agreed. “Sometimes. But I and had its occasional strikes, but it pros¬
feel differently about tonight. He’s had pered and was a square outfit to deal
me worried lately. All this union busi¬ with.
ness. He and Willy Nolan.” Eddie got off the bus at West Street
Eddie looked at the watch again. He and started his search. The street was
said, “Look. I’m off for the night. I’ll lined with bars, and he missed not a
go down and look in the joints around one. It was easy to find Pat Ryan, for
the docks and I’ll find him and bring you merely opened the door and looked
him home; then you and I will take in inside, and if Pat was there, you couldn’t
a show. All right?” possibly miss that huge bulk at the bar.
The girl said, “Yes, Eddie. Bring him But Eddie hit ten places without suc¬
home.” cess and was beginning to be annoyed.
There was something in her voice he He was halfway up Frobisher Street,
didn’t like. He couldn’t name it, but it and the bars ran out. He knew there
was a tone that fear might inspire. He was a spot on Knowle that Pat liked, and
wanted to reassure her. he started down Frobisher toward it;
He said, “Listen, Mary—” But the then he saw the alley that led to Knowle.
line was dead. She had hung up. It would save him some time. He went
He checked out and got the bus cross¬ into the alley.
town, and he cursed big Pat Ryan for It was a narrow thing, devoid of light,
spoiling the start of what had promised filled with packing cases and huge crates
to be a nice evening. He and Mary had from the markets. The glow from Fro¬
been going to a show, and if he had to bisher faded behind him and he had to
spend half the night looking for Pat, it guide himself by the dim light from
would kill things. Knowle Street, ahead. The middle of the
“You’d think a man would have more alley was clear of rubbish.
consideration for his lovely daughter,” He was just about halfway through
he said to himself, “than to spend half when he felt a light tug at his collar and
of his life in barrooms, drinking with heard the sound -of the shot. He was
Willy Nolan. And you’d think a smart falling when the second shot crashed out,
young man like Eddie Brown would know but he was sure he felt the breeze of the
better than to fall in love with big Pat slug on the left side of his face. He lit
Ryan’s daughter.” on hands and knees, his gun somehow in
He grinned'in spite of himself. It his hand, and scrambled silently to one
wouldn’t take long to find Pat. If he side, waiting. There were no more shots.
wasn’t in any of the places Mary had He was sure they had come from the
called, he’d be in some place along the direction of Knowle, and clinging as
river, close by the docks he loved and closely as he could to one side of the
Pay Day Pay-Off 111

alley, he headed in that direction. He favor. Get in touch with the license bu¬
heard the pad of running feet from some reau and find out who owns a black sedan
place past the mouth of the alley, and with a New York license plate. The
got to his own and started to run. He number is 11-40-6R. I’ll call you back
cursed as he fell sprawling over a crate, in a few minutes.”
but was on his feet again in a moment. He lit a cigarette, went to the bar and
He heard the engine of a car roar into ordered a drink. He was nervous. It
life, and he reached the sidewalk of wasn’t every day that someone took a
Knowle Street just in time to see a dark potshot at him in an alley. And who¬
sedan bullet up the block. He watched ever it had been would be reminded of it
carefully for a moment as it went under in the near future, if he had anything to
a street light, and the license plate was do with it. You couldn’t let things like
illuminated for a second. That was that go on. Someone was liable to get
all he needed. His brain automatically hurt.
recorded the numbers on the plate. He And then he was reminded of his or¬
held his fire. He might be mistaken about iginal business. He called the bartender
the car, but he didn’t think so. He didn’t and the man came down to his end of
want to go shooting at some motorist the wood.
just driving fast through the block. He Eddie said, “Have you seen Pat Ryan
had the number, and it would tell a full in here tonight? Pat and Willy Nolan,
story. I suppose.”
He looked up and down the street. They had both been on the docks for
There were people passing, but none of thirty years. They were inseparable. They
them looked at all interested in himself. drank together and worked together and
He knew the two shots might easily have fought together. When Pat Ryan was
passed for the backfire of a car and caused drinking, Willy Nolan was not far away.
no curiosity among the pedestrians. He The moment he said, “Willy Nolan,”
slid his gun into the shoulder holster Eddie caught a movement out of the cor¬
and went out on the sidewalk. He ner of his eye. A nian down the bar
brushed his clothes quickly and let anger jerked his head in Eddie’s direction, then
sweep over him in a fresh tide. snapped it back again, facing front. It
Who the hell would be shooting at was almost an instinctive movement, like
him, seven o’clock of a Friday night, in pulling your hand away from the flame of
an alley between Frobisher and Knowle? a match.
Who would know he was in the alley? The bartender said, “They haven’t
Who would know he was in the neigh¬ been in all day, and it’s a wonder, this
borhood at all? There were a few people being the end of the week.”
who might enjoy taking a shot at him The man next to Eddie said, grin¬
if they thought they could get away with ning, “But they’ve been most other places,
it, but most of them were in jail. He shouting their lungs out and drinking
couldn’t figure it out. all the whiskey in the world. Quarreling

H E WENT to the spot he had in


mind on Knowle and went right
they were, as usual.”
Eddie nodded. That would be nothing
new. And it didn’t help him. But some¬
back to the phone booth. He thing else might. He had recognized
called headquarters and got hold of Jim¬ the man at the bar who had whipped
my Booth. around at the mention of Nolan’s name.
He said, “Look, Jimmy. Do me a Eddie started toward the door. He passed
112 New Detective Magazine

in back of a little man and grabbed him eyes that were bottomless. He said,
by the shoulder. “What do you want to know?”
His huge hand lifted the man off the “Where’s Pat Ryan?”
stool and he said, “Winker, a word with Winker shook his head.
you outside.” The man came without pro¬ Eddie said, “Where’s Willy Nolan?”
test. ’ The man was silent for a moment.
Winker was the name Eddie knew him “I make a livin’ goin’ through junk they
by, and it might be the only one he had. throw away along the docks. I’m looking
No one had any idea of how he made in crates and packin’ cases, and some¬
his living, how he managed to supply times I find stuff they 'just forget. You
himself with the morphine and cocaine ain’t got no beef against me for that. It
he had to have. Winker was an addict ain’t larceny. An hour ago I’m siftin’
who resisted any attempt at a cure. Never through some stuff in a alley.” He in¬
had he been caught with drugs on his dicated with his head the alley Eddie
person. had quitted a few minutes before. “I walk
In the street, Eddie hauled the man into trouble. You can find it yourself if
into a hallway. He pushed him against you look. That’s all I know—on the
a wall and stared into the pale, waxlike level.”
face and blinking eyes. Eddie stared at him a moment and
He said, “Winker, where’s Pat Ryan?” knew it for the truth. What the man
The man shook his head. “I don’t knew he had stated. He would say no
know.” more.
“Where’s Willy Nolan?” Eddie told him, “Get out of here.”
Winker said again, “I don’t know.” The man got out. Eddie stood in the
But the lie was in his eyes. hallway and considered things. There
Eddie said, “You know something. was something unpleasant in that alley.
Winker.” It added up. He had been shot at in
The man shook his head protestingly, that alley. Someone had thrown a couple
and Eddie insisted, “You know some¬ of slugs at him as he had gone through.
thing I’d like to know.” It reminded him of something. He twist¬
“I don’t know nothing,” Wmker said. ed his neck to look at the collar of his
“I don’t even know you, except I can jacket. He pulled it into view with one
smell you’re a copper.” hand. The cloth was furrowed lightly.
Eddie pushed him against the wall. It had been that close.
“You have a fine nose. Can it smell
thirty days on the island without any
snow? None at all? Not a flake of it?”
H E WENT back to the alley. There
was nothing else to do. He
The man’s face grew whiter. Eddie could call for cars and a couple
knew he had hit bottom. He could of the big lights, and if he found nothing
threaten a rat like this with anything on he’d be a laughing stock for weeks. He
the books, and nothing would happen. had to take the chance. Besides, who¬
But just to suggest the removal of all ever had shot at him had left the alley
drugs would work wonders. before he himself had.
He said, “I’m not fooling, Winker.” He went up the street and slipped into
He saw the man knew he wasn’t fool¬ the alley fast, waited in the shadows.
ing. The man knew Eddie could send He could hear the beating of his heart,
him away. but that was the only sound in the place.
The snowbird looked at him with pale He reached down, picked up a small box
Pay Day Pay-Off 113

silently and flung it from him. It landed ever had placed Willy’s body here had
on the other side of the alley. The sound considered it a good idea to have some¬
drew no fire. He knew he was reason¬ one watch the alley. Winker had not
ably safe. been seen, else he would never have been
He went into the center of the alley, in the bar.
and now he used a small electric torch But Eddie himself had been seen com¬
no larger than a heavy pencil. He didn’t ing into the alley. He’d been shot at. It
know what he was looking for, but it was all added up to something, but Eddie
in here some place. didn’t know just what.
The search didn’t take him very long. That Willy Nolan should be killed was
The alley was filled with heavy crates, a bad thing, but not unthinkable. Feel¬
piled carelessly, one on the other, and ing ran bitter along the docks, as strong
most of them had been filled with vege¬ as the tides which tugged at the wharves.
tables. He examined fifteen or twenty Knives had been used before and would
before his light picked out the dark brown be used again. If Willy had been killed
stain reaching from one box near the in this alley, a packing case would make
bottom of a pile. He didn’t waste time a nice receptacle for the body. That made
looking any farther. Something chilled some kind of morbid sense.
within him, and he hurriedly pushed a But why would anyone guard the alley
few frates off the one he wanted to look against the body’s discovery? It would
at. It took him only a moment; then be found eventually, probably in the
he was lifting the cover of the bottom morning. Why should it not be found
crate. He thrust the light inside and this night?
drew a deep breath. It was not a pleasant It was a nasty puzzle, and Eddie didn’t
thing to see. like it. He didn’t like any of the factors
Willy Nolan was there, crowded care¬ in this business. He had been pegged at,
lessly into the wooden box, and old Willy and Willy Nolan had been stuck and
was dead. His throat was slit from ear sliced. Willy, who had been his friend
to ear, and there was a snarl on his bat¬ since Eddie had been a boy in short pants.
tered lips. Willy had taken a going over It was not a nice evening.
before he died. And Eddie knew that Pat Ryan was
The lid of the crate slammed shut mixed up in this somewhere, for where
again, almost without Eddie’s knowledge, there was Willy Nolan, there also was
and several other boxes fell into place. Pat Ryan.
He hardly believed what he had seen. Then Eddie thought of Mary’s voice
It was just another packing case, re¬ on the phone, tinged with a fear she had
markable in no way—except that it con¬ been trying to hide, to keep in check.
tained the body of Willy Nolan, the bosom He had frightened someone out of the
friend of big Pat Ryan. It was a nasty alley a few minutes before, but it was
business. reasonable to suppose they would be back.
A few wheels turned in Eddie’s mind. And Pat Ryan was missing from his
Winker, the snowbird whom he had usual haunts. It added up to something
picked out of the bar, had been in this Eddie was afraid to name.
alley. Willy Nolan hadn’t been dead very This called for a drink. Eddie went
long, perhaps a little over an hour. Wink¬ out on the street and into the nearest bar.
er had come in here, prying about, prob¬ He would raise no cry about finding
ably immediately after the body had been Willy’s body. There was no hurry about
placed here. And probably before who¬ that. It mattered no longer to Willy. It
114 New Detective Magazin<

might matter to someone else though. in most of the places he might be?”

H E HAD his drink, trying to put


the pieces of this rotten thing to¬
Eddie nodded. Then he thought of
calling Jimmy-Booth, and asking for the
car he had seen leaving the alley.
gether. The door opened and he He said, “You wait here a moment,
looked in the bar mirror. It was Mary Mary. I have an idea.”
Ryan. He ducked into a phone booth and
She was small and lovely, and there was called headquarters again.
worry written in. large letters on her He got Jimmy, finally, and said,
beautiful face. Eddie set his glass down “How’s about that license number, kid?
and hurried to her. He took her arm You get anything On it?”
and steered her outside. Jimmy told him, “Yeah. Number 11-
He said, “What are you doing down 40-6R. A black Universal sedan. It be¬
here? I told you I’d bring Pat home.” longs to Thomas Lynch. I don’t think I
She looked at him and asked simply, need give you his address. He’s an old
“Did you find him?” friend.”
He shook his head and managed a Eddie stiffened in the phone booth.
grin. “I just haven’t covered enough ter¬ Things were starting to make a little
ritory. Pat is a tough man to catch once sense. Lynch was one of the more re¬
he has a start on you. You ought to know spectable hoods, a man with many talents,
that. It’s pay day, kid.” all of them larcenous. He had an im¬
Mary nodded. “And Pop and Willy portant part of the puzzle on the board.
Nolan always do the town, or a small He went back to the street and took
part of it, on pay day. I know. But I Mary’s arm and walked along. She was
have a funny feeling, Eddie. Something talking, but the words sifted through his
I can’t explain. This isn’t the usual pay mind without meaning anything. He was
day splurge. It’s different, somehow. I’d trying to put Willy Nolan near Whip
be the one to know.” Lynch; somewhere near him.
He tried to make his words convincing. And then something Mary said struck
He knew one thing. Wherever Pat was, a nerve. He got the tail end of it. She
Willy Nolan wasn’t around. Or was he? was speaking "... and this man Packard.
“Uptown, they probably are, visiting I don’t know just who he is.”
some friends. The clock means nothing to He turned to her swiftly. “Packard!
that pair, once they get started.” It couldn’t just possibly be Paco, could
"I had to come down here and look it? Think hard, kid. Packard and Paco
myself,” she said, “when I didn’t hear could confuse a person.”
from you after awhile. I’m worried. Pop She frowned silently for a moment in
has been worried lately, too. Something concentration. She shrugged. “I couldn’t
about the union. I don’t know just what be sure. It does sound the same, doesn’t
it was. He’s been on the phone a lot, it? He just gave me his name over the
recently. Some man is always calling. phone once, then I heard Pat speaking
Packard, I think his name is. Pop has to him on one or two other occasions.”
been doing a lot of shouting at him.” She turned to him. "Does it make any
"Pat can’t talk without shouting,” Ed¬ difference ?”
die reminded her. “He’s always raising It made a terrible difference. If Sylvy
his voice above the sound of a boat Paco were involved "in this thing, it made
whistle, even if there’s no boat whistle.” all the difference in the world. The car
She turned to him. “Have you looked (Continued on page 116)
DO WE HAVE TO DIE?
A strange man in Los Angeles,
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The man, a well-known explorer
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for three thousand years by the tion, “Do we have to die?” his
sages, which enabled many to answer is astounding.
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tains that these immense powers come for this long-hidden system
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simplified so that they can be amazing 9,000-word treatise—
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115
If You New Detective Magazine

Get Up Nights (Continued from page 114)


You Can’t Feel Right he had seen belonged to Whip Lynch.
Whip Lynch was fairly clean with the
police. So was Sylvy Paco. They were
both very smart gentlemen, and Eddie
knew that Lynch worked for Sylvy.
But the big nugget was Sylvy. For
Sylvy Paco was a gent who had grad¬
uated from the lower forms of thuggery
to a point where he now indulged him¬
self in unions. He was a labor man who
had never labored, and his sphere had
grown amazingly in the past few years.
He was evidently wealthy without work¬
ing, but he was smart enough to keep
his income tax reports clean, and the
larger part of his take came from salaries
he received as officer of a surprising num¬
ber of small unions. Lynch, Eddie re¬
membered, was listed as a minor officer
in many of these. Sylvy, it came to him,
had first enfolded in his protective arms
most of the tailoring and dry cleaning
establishments in the lower part of the
city. There had been born of this a union.
Then several branches of the building
industries had gone to him for guidance,
and although before their amalgamation
there had been some instances of violence,
Sylvy had kept his hands clean as far
as the police were able to determine.
And now he had been talking with Pat
Ryan, whose voice, with Willy Nolan’s,
controlled the countless workers on the
docks. That really would be a gold mine
for a man with Sylvy’s genius. Just a
small boost in union dues, for a start.
It would be improved upon hr time.
And Eddie knew just how Pat would
react to Sylvy’s approach. He would
be insulted to the soul of him that such
a man even contemplated touching his
union, a precious thing he had nurtured
from its formation. He would sense the
crookedness of Sylvy Paco and fight to
a bitter end to prevent Sylvy from ever
(Continued on page 118)

116
Pay Day Pay-Off

whined off the floor beside his head. There


was another report, from a different
source, and Eddie turned, gun ready.
Mary’s voice came out of the darkness.
“Hold onto that thing, Mr. Brown.”
She came into the room. She said, “I
didn’t feel like waiting down in the boat.
Not after you started throwing bodies
off the pier at me. I came up the lad¬
der. There was a gentleman in the other
room, in back of you, who started shoot¬
ing as I came up the stairs. I think I
killed him.”
She fainted, and Eddie broke her fall
with an outstretched arm. Big Pat Ryan
looked at her. “She was always a delicate
lass,” he said.
Pat found some water and they brought
her to. Eddie could stand on the bad leg
and they went downstairs carefully. It
seemed that there were no more people
in the shed—live people. They went out
the front and there was a car there.
Eddie said, “There’s the buggy that
went away from the alley.”
Mary said, “You’re sure? What was
the number on the license?”
Eddie grinned. “Old Eagle-eye Brown.
Never forget a car or a number. It’s 11-
40-6R.”
She looked at the license plate, then at
him. “It’s 11-4S-6R.”
He stared at it. She was right. It
wasn’t Lynch’s car. He had made a mis¬
take. He had tied this whole thing to-
..getber-by a mistake. It was incredible.
He turned .to Mary. “I was wrong.
It’s the right car, , but I had the number
wrong.”
Pat said, in his great voice, “A good
thing for me you can’t read your num¬
bers, Eddie Brown.”
Eddie felt a little lost. He turned to
Mary. She gave him some consolation.
She said, “At least they won’t be put¬
ting you back cm the bridges, watching for
stolen cars. That would be a mistake.”
130

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