10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

59 booth and went into it and called my cousin Ethel. Sam answered the phone, Ethel had gone out to do some shopping. ‘‘Sam,” I said, “I have some bad news. Tell Ethel that Uncle Henry died this evening.” “Died!” Sam was shocked. I could hear him catch his breath. “When? How did it happen?” “The police say he was killed, hit over the head with a poker. I guess that’s the way it happened. They tried to blame me at first, but then they let me go.” “Good Lord!” he whispered. “This’ll hit Ethel pretty hard.” I hung up and went over to the desk clerk and learned that the Ken- yon apartment was on the twenty-first floor. That was two short of the top. I took the elevator up to the twenty- second and climbed the last one to the roof. It was a’ pretty busy hotel and nobody paid any attention to me. I looked down over the parapet and got dizzy. Down in the street the cars snaked along like a-caterpillar and the people looked like tiny squat bugs. { found that I could cross over from the Alverne roof to the building where Uncle Henry lived. A door there led to the stairs. I didn’t waik down to Uncie Henry’s apartment, but instead I went back to the AI- verne. m7HEN I pressed the buzzer on , the Kenyon door the woman who answered almost took my breath away. I just stood there gulping at her. She was wearing a gown of some green gauzy stuff and it showed off her full figure. Her complexion was like cream and her red hair seemed to be on fire. Her eyes were a kind of greenish-blue and her mouth was red- der than a ripe tomato. I said: “Can I talk to you, Mrs. Kenyon? I’m MHenry Lambert’s nephew, Donald.” She didn’t have any eyebrows, just a pencil line that curved over her eyes 10-STORY DETECTIVE—_—__-——— Ixke a drawn bow. She lifted them up and her eyes narrowed. At first I thought she was going to close the door on me, but then she seemed to change her mind and she opened it. “Come in, Donald,” she said, and led the way into a large living room. “Sit down. How is Henry ?” “Dead,” I said, giving it to her with both barrels, “He was murdered.” I guess I was more surprised than she was. Because she didn’t show any reaction at all, none whatsoever. Her face had a blank, wooden look and she just stared at me. “I thought you were in love with him,” I said. Her lips barely moved. “What did you come here for, Donald?” “Well,” I said, “you were with him this afternoon. You knew—” “How did you find out?” “Ecija told me.” “The Filipino!” She sat erect and her eyes looked like two frozen jade discs. “IT knew you were there anyway,” I said. “You left your purse.” Her head jerked. “What’s that? What did you say?” “Your purse,” I told her. “Your husband came for it. Why? I want to know why, Mrs. Kenyon. Is it be- cause something had happened to my uncle? What made you leave with- out your purse? And why did your husband come to Uncle Henry’s apartment to retrieve it? Why didn’t you just wait until he could send it over, 2f he could?” Her face had become a little waxen and now her voice lacked timbre. ‘Have you told any of this to the po- lice?” “No—” I shook my head. ‘Not yet, but I think I will.” She came over to me and put her hands on my shoulders and I could smell the scent of some exotic per- fume. Her face was very close to mine and I tried to inch away, but she wouldn’t let me. “Listen, Donald, I’m going to tell you the truth. I was with your uncle this afternoon. He was planning to fly OO) ) COMI (C(O) im