10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

10S TORY DETECTIVE to Buck again. “How about these others—Dobbs and Heaton?” “Dobbs and Heaton,” said Buck, “would be sure to suspect Joe of get- ting the money, in spite of what he told them, since there was no money found on Dick’s body. So I knew they’d keep a close watch on Joe, and likely tail him whenever he left the job at night.” Buck looked down at Dobbs, who was still sitting on the ground, nursing a wound in his side. “What about it, Dobbs?’ “I’m not talking,’ growled Dobbs. “How about you, Heaton?” Heaton shrugged. “I’m in the clear, anyway,” he said. “I admit Dick owed me money. I admit he said he could get it and would have it at that tree at one o’clock. I admit I sent Joe to get it. But Joe came back and said he didn’t get it—said he found Dick dead. So now I’m out the dough Dick owed me—and the hell with it,” “How about you, Joe?” Joe Cowper’s right arm was drip- ping blood into a furrow. An impu- dent grin formed on his distorted face as he said: “You think you got me, huh? But you ain’t tied me into that killing! Sure, you can show I was on the spot, and you can show I got the dough. But I’m still saying I showed up after the kid was killed and seen the dough and helped my- self. That’s human nature, ain’t it?” Chief Bedford exclaimed: “By heck, maybe that’s so!”’ Captain Receord frowned. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Let’s ask Buck about that, too.”’ Buck shook his head sadly. ‘Well, it was like this. Dick was lying on the ground. Maybe he was just com- ing to. You bent over him, Joe. You had Freddie’s clippers. You jabbed them into his neck, hard. Once! Twice! Three times! The blood spurt- ed up, hit you in the face! The hot blood! When the job was done, you took your handkerchief and wiped your face.” Buck reached into his pocket, flipped out a handkerchief. It looked spotted, reddish, “So with this you wiped the blood—” “It’s a lie!’ yelled Joe. ‘“You’re framing me! It wasn’t like that! I never wiped my face! The blood didn’t spurt—” “Thanks, Joe,” cut in Buck. “You sure fell for that litthe act. This isn’t your handkerchief. And there’s no blood on it. The blood didn’t spurt out of Dick’s neck—it merely ran out.” Buck chuckled. “But how did you know that, Joe, unless you were there doing the job?” Joe waved his left fist wildly. “Okay, so I did it! But you’ll never take me—” Suddenly, he lunged, knocked Chief Bedford flat. He started to run, but Buck had slipped around him and cracked the side of his jaw briskly. Joe Cowper went down hard. Captain Reccord said: “That was swell. We can take care of things now. That Mexican boy seems like a nice lad—be glad to turn him loose.” He put a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “There’ll be a bigger job for you some day—” “Buck! Buck!’ It was Mary’s voice, calling from the trees _ beyond. “Where are you, Buck?” “Here!” called Buck. She came running. “I heard shots,” she cried. “I was afraid—you might be hurt!” “What are you doing around here anyway?” Buck chided her. “Well, darn it,” said Mary, “I came out to see what was going on. I fig- ure I’m entitled to a good sound man.” Buck said: “Gents, I’d better take this lady home.” They strolled away together. “Orange trees are nice, aren’t they?” Buck said. “Especially the blogsoms,” said _ Mary. MIGoOOo (C(O) S (C(O) nn