10-Story Detective Magazine, April 1946 — page 13: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

HEN she left Slawter’s office she puzzled, fearful, and con- strained, He knew her concern was now as much for the safety of her boy friend as for her father. When she went out he reached in his coat pocket for a cig- arette. It was then he found what he thought he’d left in his overcoat—the little roll of newspaper.. He quickly unrolled it, saw that # was a page from the classified section, Midway on the page an inch column ad was encircled by pencil lines. Its heading read, DON’T KILL YOURSELF. Following the heading came this, Per- sons contemplating suicide should see me first. I] have something that may in-_ terest you. Things may not be as bad as they seem now. A local phone number followed, then the name, Dr. Merryway. Slawter was re-reading the ad when his phone jangled. He put the receiver to his ear. A voice said, “This is Mrs. Pell speaking.” He drew a deep breath. Now he knew that the old woman who had given him the piece of newspaper and Mrs, Pell were one and the same. He recognized the voice instantly. “Hello, Mrs. Pell,” he said. She must have recognized his voice, too, because she said, “It’s too IJate now. Why didn’t you stop him?” She didn’t give him time to answer, but hung up, He was going # call her back, but when he thumbed down the receiver hook his phone rang again. This time it was Betty Romine. She said: “T lied about the body at the morgue. _It is Rodney’s,” He started to ask what kind of ring- around-a-rosie game was this, but she didn’t let him. She kept right on talk- ing: “Sergeant Treckess of Homicide is coming for you. They found a vial of poison down in a crack behind the table of the cafe booth where you sat during the murder. A bus driver has told them he heard Mrs. Pell begging you not to kill her boy. I hope you rotten luck, killer!’ Then she hung up. Tommy didn’t take the elevator down, put went down the stairs. He had to chance running into Sergeant Treckess in the first floor foyer or outside, but luck was with him. Treckess’ car was ————-MERCHANT OF VENGEANCE————-———_-_—_—___1} parked out front, but the sergeant of detectives wasn’t in sight, Slawter lest no time in stopping a cab. Then for a few minutes he had the displeasure of giving due consideration to the pickle he was in. Treckess knew he had a blood score to settle with the fugitive murderer, Masser Fane, If the sergeant started to believe Jake and found out that Fane had ordered the soup—well, he could see where he and Jake would be swap- ping places relative to a nice set of steel bars. He’d directed the cab to the Pell home, He didn’t think that Treckess would have a man there to pick him up. Treckess couldn’t know that Betty had warned him. He wondered how Betty knew the sergeant was after him, de- cided that maybe she didn’t, that maybe she was lying. It might be that she wanted to see what he’d do, how he’d react to the knowledge that he was wanted for murder. But what she’d said about the bus driver—that must have come from the police. Jake? He decided that Jake could have planted the vial of poison in the booth, It was a far-fetched possibility but he didn’t think that Fane had had time to pull a stunt, Fane had been too busy getting away from the cafe after he'd jerked the socket wires and doused the lights, The guy up front, a little mutt with a thin head and droopy eyes, was pulling in to the curb. But not in front of the Pell home. Slawter knew the part of town where the Pells lived, This wasn’t it by several blocks. “Anything wrong?” he asked as the driver parked the cab. The driver turned his head and gazed at him a moment, his eyes all twisty. Then he worked his body around in the seat until his shoulders squared with the detective’s, “ Plenty’s wrong,” he said, speaking in a kind of whistling grunt. “I’m going to kill you, copper.” CHAPTER III WILIGHT cast the street in shadow, but those shadows hid no one, The block was without movement, They'd stopped at a vacant lot between two warehouses. It was a good enough spot EoOmichdoo S (© im