Pulp Fiction, 1946 · page 46 of 84
10-Story Detective Magazine, April 1946 — page 46: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a page of prose fiction from a detective story titled "10-STORY DETECTIVE" (visible at the top). The narrative describes a detective investigation involving a suspicious death near Miami Harbor. The protagonist and his partner Mark examine a female body found on rocks, noting her plain appearance and a valuable three-carat diamond ring. They question local workers about how the body reached that location, discovering she allegedly dove from nearby rocks. The passage emphasizes Mark's characteristic overconfidence as a detective and the narrator's internal frustration with this quality, while the investigation proceeds with the discovery of a corpse that requires further examination by the coroner.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“———-__—— 10-STORY DETECTIVE -— the company I couldn't help but read something in their facea that seemed iad close to both accusation and re- lief, BLUE squad car was parked behind my jalopy on the driveway aa the three of us stepped out of the house, Leav- ing Mark for a moment, I went forward, | opened the door of my car, jerked at the steering wheel, then went forward and examined the grass bordering the gravel beyond the front wheels. As I came back to the aquad car, Mark gave me a funny look. “What's up?” “Just curious,” I said. “Henry Crow- eli's alibi doesn’t stack up.” Mark seemed mildly interested. “How come?” [lit a cigarette. “Remember he told you he came in sbout one in the station wagon?” The redhead aaadaad: “My jalopy has been standing there blocking the driveway since midnight last night, yet the station wagon ia back in the garage. He couldn’t have driven around, because there aren’t any marks on the soggy grass. And he couldn’t have pushed mine out of the way, because the steering wear has been locked.” “Hmm,” was Mark’s only reaction, 1 was a little annoyed. Mark's a nice guy, but he has always been a little too con- fident of his own abilities as a detective to ever be a good listener. In a few minutes our siren was acreaming a path through the traffic over the county causeway toward the Beach. Briefly, | sketched the night’s events for Mark's benefit, omitting nothing. [ could- n't tell how carefully Mark listened, but something told me some of what I said was being lost. It was almost as though Mark had already made up his mind on the case, although it could have been that he just never thought much of me a8 & detective. So far I’d never been able to crack a case ahead of him. When the sedan pulled to a atop near the breaicwater at the tip end of the south beach, he came back with just one last question, which revealed where his mind had been. “Who's thia Vail dame? I’ve aeen that figure before. The face ain't so familiar, but I never forget a shape.” Remembering Mark's famous reputa- tion with the young damsels of the cho- rus in the night spota around town, 1 smiled : “She’s the Colonel's niece. His favorite, 30 Doc Whitehead says. She standa to get the bulk of the Colonel's cash by hia will.” Mark wagged his head sorrowfully. “If only she’d pretty up a little” he mur- mured wistfully. “What a waste of pul- chritude!” Out on the end of the pile of racks that line the Miami harbor channel, two plain- clothes men and a couple of whitecoats ‘from the coroner’s squad were working over a figure stretched out on one of the big cement blocks. Mark bent down and examined the female briskly, while i took a good look. She wasn’t much to see. She waa young, thirtyish, but very plain, dressed in a very ordinary black house dress that clung damply to her shapeless figure, l¢ was only when Mark turned over her right hand that anybody got very inter- ested. On the third finger was an enor- mous gold ring which held a diamond that must have been at least three carata. “Whew!” one of the whitecoats whis- tled, “Must have bucks. What would she want to go and take a dive off the rocks for?” “Not for love,” the other commented. “This one’s too homely.” - Mark was examining the ugly gash on her forehead. “Where did you find her, boys—in the water?” he asked. The first one pointed a a big rock some twelve feet below near the edge of the drink. “On that one,” he said. “She must‘a — dove off here when the tide waa high and the rock waa just under water. Oth- erwise she’d have floated out to Davy Jones.” Mark looked down at the water and seemed to ponder a moment. Then he stood up. “Maybe,” he said. “Any iden- tification ?” One of the coppers shook his head. Mark took one more look around, thee started back across the rocks. “Have the coroner look at her and give me a report. Come on, Bill.” I followed him back to the squad car. The three of us were soon screaming back across the causeway. Mark didn‘t say much on the way back. Looking out across the ship channel that lined the causeway, I couldn’t help wondering about things a little. The tide waa run- GOMmichdoo eS (CO)