10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

— HOMICIDE UCK drove back out to Sam Hooper’s property. He had been in the Hooper house a good many times and knew its arrangements. At this time Hooper himself should be out in the grove. There’d be no one in the house, except the house- keeper, and she’d be in the kitchen, clearing away the lunch, Quietly, Buck let himself in the front door. To the right of the hall- way inside was a living room. Buck slipped in there. choked with the solid furniture of a long-past period. At one end of the room, old-fashioned portieres draped over another doorway. Buek pushed aside the portieres. Here was a very small room, a barely furnished office, with a _ rolled-top desk and a couple of old swivel chairs. Some ancient letter files lined one wall, Just beyond, in the east wall, was a large outside window. Buck crossed to the window, opened it and looked out. A few feet below was a gravel walk. Turning away from the window, Buck noticed a handkerchief on the floor, near the desk. He picked it up. It was just a clean white hand- kerchief. Buck regarded it thought- fully, then thrust it into his pocket. Suddenly, there was a quiet move- ment beyond the portieres, Old Sam Hooper pushed through the drapes. He had a gun in his hand. His eyes blazed angrily. “You’re trespassing, Buck,” Hoop- er said. “I could shoot you down as you stand and be within my rights.” “But you’re talking foolish,” said Buck. “My only purpose is to find out who killed your son.” “That’s found out already.” “You may think so, but I don’t. Now, Tl’ve been thinking about the motive for the murder.” Sam Hooper snorted. “Motive! Only one person had any motive, and that was Garcia. Revenge!” “Tt looks that way,” conceded Buck. “But a killer might have an- other motive. Money!” LANDMARK: The room was. —69 “Money? You're crazy! Dick had very littie money.” “No. But you had plenty, Hooper !” Hooper stared curiously, It was no secret that Sam Hooper had plenty of money. It was even known to a few local people—including the police—that he had an old-timer’s distrust of banks and kept a good deal of ready cash of his own prem- ises. “My money!” he muttered, “But how—” He stopped suddenly and sidled around the room toward the filing cases. He shouldered the case out of the way and revealed a wall safe. Still keeping an eye on Buck as much as possible, he twirled the dial, opened the safe. He reached in and brought out a stack of currency. Expertly, he counted the money. “Good Lord,” he said thickly, “‘it’s short! Short about three thousand dollars!’ “IT had a hunch that’s what you’d find,” Buck said. “Now, if you can figure out who robbed—’” “But no one knew the combina- tion of the safe! I’m the only one who knew—and I carried it in my head, never wrote it down!” “Dick didn’t know?” No.’’ “Nor Dobbs?” “No. No one knew, I tell you!” “Have: you had the safe opened lately ?”” “Only once in three weeks. That was night before last.” Buck said slowly: “That was the night of the murder!” Mr. HE old man’s excitement was mounting. “But that couldn’t have had anything to do with it! Dobbs happened to drop in. It was a little after midnight—” “Wasn’t that unusual?” “No. I never go to bed until late and Dobbs might drop in any time. He came in to make sure about the OOO) (”) COMI S (C(O) nn