10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 88: what you’re looking at

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

b66— ee alley, unless they kill somebody.” “They're up mine any time. Es- pecially when they got what Betty’s got. She does her stuff at Augie Shor’s Club on the County Causeway.” “Nice lad, Augie,” I said. “He killed a girl a couple of years ago. A play- mate of his. I was handling the case, and I’m afraid I didn’t do so good Couldn’t get enough evidence to con- vince a jury.” Gres looked worried. “Yeah, I wish I could get her away from that dive. Maybe I will—after tonight.” He picked up his magnificent beachrobe. “ll be seeing you, lieutenant.” I shifted out from under the paim tree and lay back with the sun pour- ing down on me. What could a swell looker like Betty Boyer see in a four- dusher like Mark Gregg? Unless she nad fallen for his line, which was pretty slick until you caught on. For instance, tossing off that nonchalant cemark that he’d made six hundred bucks at Hialeah. It might just possibly be true, but the edds were that, as usual, he was trying to play big-timer. His tale of woe about the wad he was dropping at the dog tracks was part of the same. He was a two-buck bettor and a chiseler and a cheap tout, and he’d never be anything else. After T’d got my torso well baked, { shook the sand off me and made my way through sprawling bodies to the water. There were pienty of folks dunking themselves. and among them were Mark Gregg and Betty Bover. i could distinguish him from a mile away by his hairy torso. And when the waves receded from hex, revealing her to the hips, that build of hers could be recognized anywhere as well. They were doing a lot of splashing ind giggling, and I found myself ‘hinking again how she could go for a mug like that. Y made sure not to get too ciose ‘o them. I could easily do without Grege’s company. After disporting myseif for about ten minutes, I fig- ured [’d had enough and started out. 10-STORY DETECTIVE-———— --—-—- -- ~~ ee oe eee The lifeguard’s booth in front of which I had entered the water was now about a block to my left. I saw that a mob had gathered in front of the booth and that people were run- ning from all directions. ECAUSE of my job it would seem that I’d shed any morbid curios- ity about drownings-and similar ac- cidents. But on the way back to where I'd left my robe, I had to pass through the densest part of the gawkers. A couple of lifeguards were up to their hips in the ocean and pulling some- body out. Somebody in the mob said: “He wasn’t far out enough to drown. Maybe a stingaree stung him.” “That’s crazy.” somebody else said. “Stingarees aren’t that bad.” The lifeguards were almost out of the water now, carrying the man be- tween them, And I saw that hairy pelt and started running toward them. “Get the police!” one of the life- guards was yeliing. “This man has been murdered!’ Mark Gregg was dead when I got ciose enougn to take a good look at him. Probabiv he hac been the mo- ment he had sunk under water. His right side had been ripped open from armpit to hipbone. Althcugh a lot of the blood had been washed away by the water, there was still plenty flow- ing out. I looked around ior Betty Boyer. I didn’t see her, but I did see Augie Shor. He was a well-knit bronzed man in the late thirties—quite a lad with the ladies, one of whom, I was pretty sure. he had murdered in cold blood. Languidly he pulled out a ciga ret as he looked down at Grevg’s body from a distance oi twenty feet or so. { don’t know if he’d noticed me. May- be he had because he was trying too hard not to look in my direction. By the time the first of the cops came, Augie Shor haa slipped out of view. Betty Boyer still hadn’t ap- peared. Funny, I thought. She’d been swimming with Greve ten minutes COMMclaoo S (CO) im