10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

WOMEN. The runt handed her mon- ey, mumbled something I couldn’t catch, and left her. I gave him room to come out through the doorway, then went through it myself, the other di- rection. Betty was counting the money, She heard my steps and glanced up and thrust the bills where any woman would in an emergency. She started down the corridor toward where I as- sumed the dressing room would he. “Whosis and Sun Gal paid off, didn’t they?” I said softly. She spun. In a slinky evening gown she was as pleasant to look at as she had been in her bathing suit. “What of it?’ she snapped. “Not a thing, except that Mark Gregg was murdered because he knew that particular double was going to collect.” “No!” Her head shook as if it were attached to a wire. “No!” Then. she demanded: “Who are you?” “Don’t you remember me? The lad who was on the beach with Mark Gregg a few minutes before he was killed.” “The New York detective!” Just then the door to the ladies’ room swung open and a buxom young thing came out. Betty waited until she was gone, then said: “Come with me.” I tagged after her to her dressing room. She shut the door and locked it and faced me. She was breathing hard, waiting for me to go on talking. “How’d you know I was a cop?” I asked. “The police told me. They said it was no use lying to them because you'd seen me in the water with Mark. But I wasn’t going to lie. Honest, I didn’t know Mark was dead until I returned to my hotel from the beauty parlor and found a detective waiting for me.” I assumed the fatherly pose. “Still, you’re in a spot, sister, but because we’re both from tne same town I'd like to help you out. What were you to Mark Gregg?’ SATAN’S SCANDAL SHEET == 91 HE drew herself up haughtily. “Mark and I were going to be married. He was one of the few kind men I had ever met. And he was rich. He was going to take me away from this rotten racket and the contempti- ble men who run it.” “In short, Augie Shor was trying his line on you and you didn’t go for it. You preferred matrimony, and you wanted plenty of dough attached to the blessed state. You fell for Gregg’s line that he was oozing wealth—” “Line?” she said. “That’s right. He talked a million and often hadn’t the price of coffee in his jeans.” “TI don’t believe it!” “It doesn’t matter now,” I said. “How’d you come to bet on that Daily Double?” “T had a tip.” “And you passed it on to Gregg?” “Why not? Mr. Shor told me—” She bit off the rest and her eyes wid- ened. “You said Mark was murdered because he knew what dogs would win the double?” “That's right. And Augie Shor gave you the tip?” She was careful not to look at me. “Last night Mr. Shor tried to force his attentions on me. I slapped his face. Instead of getting mad, he just laughed and asked me not to tell any- body. He said that if I didn’t he’d do me a favor—lI should bet on Whosis and Sun Gal. Later that night Mark was complaining to me how he couldn’t beat the dogs, so I passed the tip along.” “And you took a flier yourself?” “Only a five-dollar ticket. I seldom bet. That was a bookie you saw giv- ing me money.” I said: “Thanks, Betty. I think you’ve made things easy for yourself. Is Shor around?” “TI saw him about an hour ago. His office is two doors down. Do you think he—” “You'll find out soon enough,” I told her. | The door was marked MANAG- ‘O\O)O) @) (CONNIE S (C(O) nn