10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

92 ER’S OFFICE. I knocked and there was no answer, so I returned to the main hall. The musicians were still drowsing. Augie Shor wasn’t in the place, but Bill Raft was. He stood at the bar watching me out of the corner of his eye. I sat down at a table and or- dered another rum Collins, After a while a waiter came hurry- ing out of the door leading to the cor- ridor and made straight for Raft. Raft listened for ten seconds, then glanced hastily at me and went into the corridor. My fingers tightened about the tall, cool glass. Something was up. In less than a minute the same wait- er came out again, searched the room with his eyes and then sidled over to me. He took his time, the excitement gone from his movements, but his fa- cial muscles were still tight. He tapped me on the shoulder and bent over from the hips to whisper in my ear: “Pardon me, are you Mr. Durkee iis I nodded, “Detective Raft wants to see you in Mr. Shor’s private office,” he said. “Anything happen?” The waiter’s eyes showed that plen- ty had. But all he said was: “T’ll show you the way, sir.” “IT was just about to leave to keep an appointment,” I told him, “so ll have to call up saying I'll be de- tained.” “The telephone booths are right next to the cloakroom, sir.” a ASKED the operator to get me po- lice headquarters, and then a cou- ple of anxious minutes passed before Sergeant Swanson was located. “Ah, hello, lieutenant,” Swanson said. “I suppese you want to know if we got anywhere on the murder of vour friend Mark Gregg.” I let that “friend” go without com- ment. I said: ‘Look here, sergeant, if you think I’m implicated in the mur- der, why not have me down at head- quarters and go through the regular 10-STORY DETECTIVE————— routine? I don’t like being dogged by one of your men.” “Dogged? I don’t get it.” “I’m referring to the fact that you clamped Bill Raft on my tail. After all, some degree of courtesy is due a fellow officer who is spending a vaca- tion in your city.” There was a pause at the other end of the wire. Then- Swanson’s soft drawl, sounding genuinely apologetic: “I’m sure there’s some mistake, lieu- tenant.” “I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “We can talk it over when you come to Augie Shor’s Club to look into the trouble,” “What trouble?” I put everything I could into my voice. “Good Lord, haven’t you heard?” And I hung up. In the corridor an uneasy greup stood talking in hushed tones. All the voices stopped when I appeared. Bet- ty Boyer was leaning against the wall with both hands to her bosom. Her eyes were pinpoints, staring at me with horror. Bill Raft was drawing on a cigaret and the corners of his mouth smiled with satisfaction. In ad- dition, there was the waiter who had given me Raft’s message and another waiter and a man in evening clothes. Raft said: “When you left Miss Bover’s room, lieutenant, you went into Mr. Shor’s office?” The door to the office was closed. I shook my head. “‘Ail I did was knock. There was no answer, so I went away.” “That’s what you say.” Raft blew smoke at me. “This is the second time in ten hours that you’ve been at the spot where murder was committed. This time we have you dead to rights.” So it was murder! I’d thought of it when Raft had sent for me, but I hadn’t really believed it until now. Raft opened the door. “See for yourself, Durkee.” I went past him into the room, Raft followed me and stepped to the side of the door and kicked the door shut with his heel, so that those in the cor- MIGoOo (C(O) S (CO nn