Pulp Fiction, 1946 · page 28 of 84
10-Story Detective Magazine, April 1946 — page 28: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page 26: Story Prose from "10-Story Detective" This page contains story prose from a detective fiction magazine. The narrative follows a narrator investigating a situation involving characters named Vanessa, Emily Hayden, and a colored cook named Lily. The plot involves tension over a mysterious visitor named "Turrentine" who may visit the protagonist's studio, escalating into a dramatic incident where Lily the cook screams near a swimming pool. The passage describes physical comedy and suspense as the narrator and Emily rush to investigate Lily's distress. The text is entirely narrative prose with no illustrations, typical of pulp fiction magazine story pages from the early twentieth century.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
26-—_____—__——- 10STORY DETECTIVE “This is a grudge fight. He’d stop at I} have a hunch he’s eoming ever here this morning to try to siap oa out of you.” Vanessa’s grey eyes arrowed to slits. “You really think he might come here before the studio conference?” fie: I’m sitting im en anythmg you . Bven if it’s only ‘good morning’.” eh re not afraid of Turrentine. ¥m not afraid ef anything.” Staying up all night makes me mean. “Not anything?” I queried silkily. “Just not anything in the whole wide world?” I had dropped my hand on the Hittle green and brown frog in the wet grass beside me. In spite of his frantic kick- ing, I held him firm, “Mark! Whatve you got im your hand?” Vanessa said suspiciously. She backed away from the edge of the poe treading water. “Mark?f’ she whi . “Mark, no! You haven’t got ieeteindk in your hand! Not really!” } opened my hand and showed her. The little frog almost made it; But not quite. OY Brer Mark closed his fingers too quick, A scream froze im Vanessa’s throat. You could see it stick there. Her lips drew back from her perfect white teeth in a@ grin that wasn’t a grin. ‘} threw the little brown and green frog away. It landed with a soft plop in some ferns by the white brick wall. Then I dipped my hand in the pool to wash it off. “Someday I’m going to tell the colum- nists,” 1 threatened. She got her breath, coughed up some water, and began to curse, Anytime she wants to, Vanessa can outswear all the juicers and grips in Hollywood. This was one of the times. “] need some coffee,” I told her, “If ~ your Injun boy-friend shows, look for me in the kitchen,” ie a WENT through a gate in the wall around the pool, crossed the dew-wet lawn and entered the house by French doors opening on the patio. Lily, the colored cook, was up and hitting the ball. The fragrance of hot java told me that. Emily Hayden’s prematurely grey head was bent ever the morning paper in the breakfast room. 1 dropped my wet hand on her neck. It felt warm. She gasped and jumped. “Your hand’s as cold as a trout!” Emily tried to chill me with her flaw- less eyes. She had on a tailored suit of pink tweed. “Black coffee, Lily.” 1 winked at the grinning colored cook, and flopped on the cireular breakfast seat by the win- dow, “Yep,” I told Emily Hayden. “OP Brer Mark’s been helping Vanessa with her morning swim, Turrentine was thumping the war drums, I thought Pd meteee We area Sh Cone Be Sone ae put over a fast one.” The one thing in the wold Emily Hayden and I agreed on was how dan- gerous T'urrentine could be to Vanessa. A faimt Ime of concern showed on Emily’s smooth forehead as she got up from the table. “l’i be in my upstairs office,” she said. 1 heard her go away. Lily hummed over the kitchen stove. New-minted sun- shine came in the breakiast room win- dow and bounced off polished silverware. It hurt Ol’ Brer Mark’s eyes. I tried the java. It was still too hot. I must have dozed off. The next thing I knew I was sitting up wide awake with a mouthful of cold coffee, a scream ringing in my ars. Jarred awake by the seream, I’d automatically taken a swig from my cup. | More screams. I choked on the eold coffee and fell over my own feet trying to get out from the circular table. Emily Hayden’s footsteps pounded down hardwood stairs from her office, We crashed into each other in the door to the patio. “Where?” I snapped. “it’s Lily,” she said ealmly. We ran out into the dew-drenehed patio, Fhe hoarse sereaming kept on, It came from behind the white wall around the swimming pool, We got there. Lily, the colored cook, stood against the open gate, holding. herself up with one hand and squeezing her own throat with the ether. The sereams welled up out of her steadily. “Lily, stop that!” Emily ordered. Lily kept right on. Her eyes were shut tight. Her mouth opened so wide with each scream that you eould see the pink lining of her throat. ‘ A big white turkish towel lay on the grass at the edge of the pool, where Lily had dropped it. Emily and !f saw CORMMC OOO eS (c@