10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

28——_—___—__—_—_——_————_10-STORY DETECTIVE————— Island home a week before he was due. “Something happen on your trip?” Marco asked. Pendegrast’s voice was brusque. He didn’t answer the question, merely asked if Mareo could dig up fifteen hun- dred at once. “That’s a lot of money,’ Marco hedged. ‘“‘When do you need it?” “Even if you take your time, you can drive out here in an hour and a half,” Pendegrast said, and hung up. Marco arrived within the allotted period, even though he had to walk fifteen minutes from where he parked his coupé. “Didn’t know you were in the habit of answering the bell yourself,” he said, as the door opened to his ring. “My help isn’t here,” Pendegrast ex- plained. “They didn’t expect me so soon.” He appeared to be his usual genial self, but underneath, Marco observed, Pendegrast was uncomfortable. The big man was clad in a maroon dressing gown, which seemed to accentuate his hugeness, his elemental strength. “Thanks, Marco,” he said, leading the way inside. “I knew you’d come through for me.” He rubbed a large hand across his chest, patted the back of his neck. “You’ve got something for me, haven’t you?’ He stood there widespread on two massive legs, hands elasped behind his back, fidgeting. “Of course I’ve got something for you,” Marco agreed. He put his hand to his pocket. It came out holding a gun. Pendegrast’s eyes goggled, less with terror than rage. He lunged forward, roaring, his oak-thick arms _ out- stretched, his hands crooked like grap- pling irons. Marco felt the hands tight- en around his neck, felt the auditor’s savage breath. Marco decided this had gone far enough. He pulled the trigger four times quickly . Marco felt a high alate as he speed- ed back to the city. Pendegrast had made his last collection—with a bullet bonus. Now all Marco had to do was point the evidence to Henry Frazer. Frazer lived in a small, self-service elevator apartment house. Unseen, Marco let himself into the lift, was car- ried upstairs. He had a key to the apartment—a duplicate of the key he had recently borrowed from Iris Stan- ton’s purse. Five minutes later Marco was hurry- ing down the stairs, chuckling. He had dealt the ace of spades twice in the same afternoon, and no man could prove he had even handled the deck of death. ARCO slept better that night than he had in a long time. He got up late, tackled a hearty breakfast. He was finishing his coffee when he was interrupted by two _ visitors. Marco’s eyelids flickered as he recog- nized them. Reeves and Gissing, of Homicide. “T didn’t know the Policemen’s Ball was due again,” Marco said, “Put me down for a dozen tickets.” “This isn’t that kind of ball,” Reeves said. His fmgers drummed a tattoo on the table. “What time were you at Frazer’s yesterday, Marco?” Marco put a napkin to his lips. “I wasn’t. Why ?” “You’re part of Frazer’s alibi,” the detective explained. Under prodding, he gave Marco the whole story. “George Pendegrast,” he said, “re- turned suddenly from a hunting trip yesterday. He immediately phoned his doctor, asking him to drop in around six. When the doctor arrived, no one answered his ring, but he got in through an open terrace window. He found Pendegrast dead. That places the shooting between four and six o’clock, because the call came through at four. “Frazer, being Pendegrast’s ex- partner, was naturally on the list for questioning. It was in Frazer’s apart- ment we found a gun which, when checked, turned out to be the one that did in Pendegrast, “Frazer,” Reeves finished, “claims MIGoOo (C(O) S (C(O) nn