Pulp Fiction, 1942 · page 97 of 116
10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 97: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "Elegy for an Alibi" by Guy Fleming This is a story prose page from a pulp magazine featuring the beginning of a crime fiction tale. The page shows the opening chapters of a narrative about Albert Wahl, who appears to be contemplating or planning a crime, and his subsequent interaction with Dan Curtin, a jewelry store owner who visits Wahl requesting a loan of five thousand dollars. The story involves what appears to be a criminal scheme, with Wahl calculating financial details and Curtin producing some form of security or collateral. The page includes decorative drop caps and is formatted in a two-column layout typical of pulp magazines from this era.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
By Gay Fleming Albert Wahl thought that every cog was in the right place when | | he contrived the pertect crime—until the wheels of fate Ip skidded him onto hell’s crimson-rutted highway. ly LBERT WAHL sat in the back room of his loan office, reading a mystery book. The shrewd, dark eyes in his hol- low-jawed face were avidly absorbing the print. Sud- denly he slammed the book shut and his lips curled in a sneer of disgust. Always the criminal was caught. And why not? Any dolt who commit- ted a murder and had the blunder- ing stupidity to leave a tell-tale clue or to miscalculate some vital frag- ment of his scheme deserved to be caught. The heavy lids shuttered over Wahl’s eyes. A thoughtful smile tugged at his mouth. Take him for instance. Now if he decided to embark upon a criminal enterprise he would work out each detail with the precise exactitude of a scientist. All possibilities would be minutely examined and accounted for. Immersed as he was in these vica- rious reflections, Albert Wahl little realized how close he was at that moment to testing his theories. The little bell attached to the front door tinkled. Wahl got up and went behind the counter, Surprise reg- istered across the lean face at the sight of his visitor. Dan Curtin was a big man, big and artificially pompous. His huge round skull was quite bald and even in that dim light the damp sheen of perspira- tion covering it was visible. 95 Wahl was puzzled. He couldn’t imagine what Curtin might want. The big man was a partner in the town’s leading jewelry store. Curtin & Avery. Wahl rubbed his long bony fingers together and exposed his teeth in a smile. “Good afternoon, Curtin. What can I do for you?” The jeweler wasted no words. “I want some money, Wahl.” “That’s my business. How much?” “Five thousand—eash.” The loan broker harnessed the startled look that fought for expres- sion upon his face. He pursed his lips. “That’s a lot of money. I’m not sure—”’ Curtin cut in with the impatience of a man anticipating the precise ob- jection that might be raised to his request. “You’ll get adequate security. I need the money for only one week and I’m willing to pay you an in- terest of ten percent.” He smiled thinly. “Far more than the legal rate, I might add.” DULL glitter entered Wahl’s eyes. He made a rapid calcula- tion. Five thousand at ten percent would net him a cool five hundred dollars. Not bad for one week’s work. Somewhat dubiously he said: “And the security?” Curtin’s face had the rigidity of a plaster mask, He reached into his pocket and took out a piece of tissue wrapping. He opened the paper and left it on the counter. OO) (C(O) S (C(O) im