10-Story Detective Magazine, April 1946 — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

—————__THE CHOKE’S ON ME now almost nauseated me, but I climbed in and clambered through to the back seat. It was there the smell was strongest. Now in the bright light I got a good look at the leather seats. There was not a thing to be seen. I sat down on the back seat to steady myself. Something beneath me made a sudden clinking sound, Looking down, I grabbed up a nicke] that had fallen from my pock- et. Tentatively, 1 stuck my other hand ‘down between the cushions. Something struck my fingers. I pulled it out. It was just a hairpim—a big thick celluloid thing like the kind I had seen my grandmother wear. Irrelevantly, I wondered who in the Herrick household would be wearing that kind of old-fash- ioned stuff. Carelessly, I stuck it into my pocket, Giving up the hunt, I pushed the driv- er’s seat forward and started to elimb out. Then something else caught my eye. Attached to the steering eolumn below the dash was a 1ittle white ecard, a chauf- feur’s license I realized when 1 leaned down closer to examine it. Charles Hugh Lee, I read, and a Miami address. For a second it failed to interest me, then something clicked. Lew—Lee— that must be the Chinese houseboy’s ecard, I suddenly realized! Before I climbed out onto the garage floor, I peered at the ad- dress and memorized every syllable. 1 was feeling a little better about things now. On that side of the station wagon stood the utility room, an alcove with the hot water heater, a couple of wash tubs, and a bottled gas tank, the kind that all Miami houses use, I looked them over carefully, particularly the gas tank, and wandered back to the house. I had seen what I wanted to know. ARGARET VAIL was alone in the kitchen preparing breakfast, When Il walked in, she turned her pale expres- sionless face to me and gave me a slight- ly inguisitive frown. “You look done in,” she said coolly. “Tt am.” I breathed a sigh and leaned against the table, watching her fix the coffee. “Is there a drink in the house?” “Isn’t it a little early for that?” She seemed to feel uncomfortable with me watching her. “T’ve had a hard day.” I smiled at her, wryly. “My nerves aren’t used to this.” She set the percolator on the stove, ee glanced back at me a second, then walked toward a door. “Come with me,” she or- dered. Entering the butler’s pantry, which was lined with cupboards on both sides, she opened the little doors directly over the sink, looked all around, closed them, then went to another cupboard farther down. She closed it and went to another. I saw her face wrinkle into an angry frown. “Can I help?” I said. “No.” She seemed annoyed with my offer, “It seems to be misplaced.” But the last cupboard she opened, the one beneath the sink, revealed a whole row of bottles—enough liquor to make a saloon keeper’s mouth water. Misplaced, I thought. Some misplacing! She picked out a bottle of Scoteh, poured out a glass quarter full, and hand- ed it to me.. “Won’t you join me?” I said. “You look like you need it.” She glanced at the botile hesitatinely: pulled down another glass, and poured out three thick fingers. Then she raised it up and drained Lalf without a blink, Watching it, the act didn’t seem to go with the eostume, with the dowdy brown house dress, and the rolled-up hair. We were looking at each other as we took the second swallow. “Do you know this George Browning very. well?” I said then. “What kind of a guy is he?” I was thinking of the stoeky shadow behind me in the garage. Her eyelashes didn’t even flicker. “He’s my cousin,” she answered simply, “but I never met him in my life before last night. The same goes for Mr, Woods.” She put her glass down on the sideboard, I could tell she didn’t want to talk to me. There was a brief pause. “Why?” “Nothing.” I took my last gulp. “Just seemed like a peculiar duck, that’s all.” “All we Herricks are slightly odd, you'll find,” was her answer, as she turned and snapped out the light. “It’s a pity you can’t get to know us better.” I had a funny feeling she was laughing at me when we walked out of the pantry. CHAPTER Iii my bathroom I tried at least five minutes to get some hot water out of the faucet to take some of the stubble off my face, but with no luck. Everything Commicaoo eS CO