10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 102: what you’re looking at

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

100-—__—_____—— mile off the main highway. Spotted him heading toward it so I followed. Says he is just a bum, but I found this on him.” The trooper laid a wad of bills— about forty dollars in all—and a set of very good burglar tools on Sheriff Davis’ desk. Davis grunted and looked at the little crook. Then he glanced back at the trooper. “You’re new in these parts, of- ficer—”’ “Trooper Patriek, sheriff, Just as- signed from the Payson Barracks. Heard a lot about you from the boys. They seem to think pretty well of your abilities, sir.” Davis grinned. “Thanks. Now about this crook here. You must have eaught him casing the Dr. Montague estate and I know why he was doing it. Dr. Montague is an inventor. Made his pile some time ago and is practi- cally retired now. He’s a strange duck. Lives alone and is really a recluse. It’s said that he keeps a lot of money hid- den somewhere on his estate ever since he got a trimming when a bank closed.” Trooper Patrick whistled. “No wonder this little tramp was so fur- tive. Well, better lock him up on a charge of carrying burglar tools. That’s about all we have on him.” Davis frowned. ‘““Maybe we’ll have more. Dr. Montague phoned me twice during the »ast week and complained of suspicious characters. Perhaps he saw this monkey and can identify him. I’l] phone Montague.” But Davis had no luck there. Dr. Montague’s phone was reported out of order. Davis got up, clamped hand- cuffs on the prisoner and took his arm. “We'll take him up to Montague’s place. Might stop the worthy doctor from calling me fancy names when I don’t happen to get out there fast enough to land a prisoner of my own. You got a car, troaper ?” “Patrol car. Come on.” 10-STORY DETECTIVE—-——____—_— WO minutes later they were roll- ing out of the small town and heading toward the hill country. Sher- iff Davis questioned the prisoner and drew from him nothing more than a stream of 2urses and a savage strug- gling to get free. Trooper Patrick turned his head slightly, keeping one eye on the road. “Davis, just what kind of a man is this Dr. Montague?” “Some people call him a nut. Myself —I’m not so sure. He invented a lot of mighty useful things in his day. Came here about four years ago, bought a big house and lots of land. Then he built an iron fence around the property, ran charged wires from his house to the fence and he can turn it into a regular electric chair. Has all kinds of doodads—stuff he worked on for a hobby. I suppose you'll see.” They made a sharp turn and Pat- rick reduced the speed of his patrol car. The road became rutty and nar- row. It was dusk and the trees which made an arched roof over the road, also kept out the remaining light of day. Patrick turned on the headlights. Suddenly he jammed the brake on. Davis and the prisoner were thrown forward by the quick stop. Patrick jumped out of the car and ran up toa sprawled out form which lay just off the road. Davis grabbed his prisoner, yanked him out and approached the trooper. Patrick looked up. “This man is dead—murdered. He’s been shot, two or three bullets, squarely in the face. Shake up that little rat, Davis. Maybe he knows something about this.” “Me? Kill a guy?” the prisoner bleated. “Honest, I ain’t killed no- body. I don’t travel heeled. Okay—I was gonna try and get to that crazy inventor’s dough. I'l] take the rap for it, but not murder.” Davis said, ‘Patrick, will you hang onte our friend here? I’d like to ex- amine the body. If it’s anybody from these parts, Pll know him.” Patrick got up and grabbed the prisoner. “T’ll give you odds you MIGoOo (C(O) S (C(O) nn