10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

98 <r feeling of triumph had burgeoned and welled up inside him. Elation poured through every fibre of his body. It was amazing, really, how every cog in his plan fitted together as if they had been tooled for that purpose. He rummaged inside the drawer of an old wooden filing cabinet until he found a square of brittle paper. He scanned it swiftly, and smug satis- faction suffused his face. It was a three-year-old pistol per- mit. Fred Avery had got it from the police department and brought it to Wahl—that was when the loan office had been more of a pawn shop—and asked to buy a gun, Wahl didn’t have a new one in stcck, but he’d promised to get one. And then Avery’d had his first cardiac attack and had forgotten about the whole thing. The law required Wah]! to fil! out a form whenever a firearm was sold and forward it to the police depart- ment. This Wahl did, taking it down and immediately posting it. They would receive it early the next morn- ing. By that time Curtin’s body would have been discovered. The cops would put two and two together, search Avery’s house, find the gun, check it against the bullet that had killed Cur- tin, and Avery’s goose would be cooked. ... It was not until ten o’clock the fol- lowing morning that Chief Garson and one of his deputies called at the loan office. “We’re checking up on that gun you sold Fred Avery,” Garson said. “Oh, yes,” Wahl nodded and brought out the permit. “Here’s the permit you gave him. Can’t under- stand why he waited so long.” Garson’s eyes were direct. ‘Did you know that Dan Curtin was shot last night ?”’ ————10-STORY DETECTIVE——_——— Wahl feigned ignorance. “No!” he gasped. “‘Is—is he dead?” “Very. Bullet took him right through the heart. This the gun you sold Avery?” Wahl turned the proffered weapon over in his hands. ‘‘Why, yes, but it’s not—it couldn’t be the one—”’ “That killed Dan Curtin? It is. There’s no doubt about that.” “Good Lord!” whispered Wahl, dressing his face with shock. Then he frowned slightly. “Come to think of it, Avery did act kind of peculiar yes- terday.” “When did he buy the gun?” “Yesterday, in the afternoon, about four o’clock.”’ That, Wah! knew, was when Avery usually left the store and walked slowly home. Garson exchanged glances with his deputy. When his eyes again drilled back at Wahl they were hard and brittle. ‘Tell me, Wahl, why did you kill Dan Curtin? Was it so you could keep the diamond brooch whose re- ceipt we found in his safe?” Suddenly Wahl’s pulse was beating wildly against his temples. His mouth was arid, dry as flint. “I—I don’t un- derstand—” The receipt, he kept thinking, why had he forgotten about it? But it didn’t prove he’d killed Cur- tin. They couldn’t prove that. Garson’s voice was like the crack of a whip. ‘You never sold this gun to Fred Avery yesterday at four o'clock. And he couldn’t possibly have killed his partner. Here’s something you didn’t know, Wahl. Fred Avery got a heart attack at two in the after- noon and died one hour later in the hospital. I arrest you for the murder of” : But Albert “Wahl heard no more. There was a drumming in his ears and a swimming in his head. He had fainted. MIGoOo (C(O) S (C(O) im