10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 102: what you’re looking at

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

100 ____—_——_—_10-STORY DETECTIVE he was more than filling the require- ments for parole. Well, well.” Tom had no further time to com- ment. He was called upon to speak, “but while he had the floor, his eyes followed Tony steadily. The crook smiled coldly when he caught Tom’s gaze fastened on him. Only once did Tony leave the banquet hall and that was for five minutes. Tom finished his speech, bowed to the applause and sat down. He fidgeted nervously as others took the floor. Tom heard nothing of what they said. An undercurrent of ap- prehension gripped him. Tom wasn’t subject to these hunches very often, but he believed in them. Forty min- utes crawled by. Suddenly the doors of the restaurant were thrown wide. Five burly men bustled in. One of them Tom knew for Sergeant Donovan of the Homicide Squad. Donovan’s face wasn’t pleasant to look upon. Tom tried to get the detective’s eye, but Donovan spotted Tony Balch. He sig- naled his men and they converged on the ex-convict from all sides. Tony saw them coming and stared in astonishment. “Lift ’em!” Donovan warned brusquely. “Any phony plays and I'll smack you down. Stick out your mitts! You and us are going places.” “But what is this all about?” Tony implored. “I have done nothing. Be- cause I had the ill fortune to spend five years in prison, does that give you cause for this — this action on your part?’ Tony acted well. He seemed a brow- beaten, half frantic man who stood in ardent fear of the police. “You know what happened,” Dono- van blurted. “You bumped Robert Reade. You threatened to do it and I always figured you would.” “J—killed Reade?” Tony backed away a step and gasped his horror. “But that cannot be. I have been here —right here, for hours. Last night I was also here. I have witnesses.” “Sure he has,” Tom broke in as he stepped close to Donovan. “Hello, Sergeant. I heard you, of course. When was Reade murdered — and where?” “Within the hour,*’ Donovan re- plied. “We got your tip about the trouble they had at the pen so I fig- ured Tony did it. It was a knife job and Tony always was hot on the shiv. Reade was left in a car at Town’s End.” | “But I have been here,’ Tony pro- tested. “I have witnesses—” “Shut up!” Tom snapped. “I hate to do it, Tony, but even for a louse like you, I have to back up your alibi. Tony has been right here, Donovan, for the last two hours. He couldn’t possibly have left this restaurant and reached Town’s End and back without my noticing he’d been away. Come along, sergeant. Tell me about it.” HEY sat in the big police ear out- side while Donovan gave the details. “A passing motorist spotted the body, Tom. It was shoved in the back seat of a stolen car. Whoever bumped the poor guy made him suffer plenty. He sliced him in about a dozen.places where it would hurt most, before he jammed the shiv into his heart. Want to see him?” Tom nodded. “I’ll trail you in my own car.” And Donovan was right. Reade’s body wasn’t a pretty thing to look at. On the first appearance, his murder seemed the handiwork of a maniac. Blood was congealing on the floor of the tonneau and there was even a blob of it up on the roof of the car. Reade had been tied, his arms and legs lashed so that blue marks were left where the ropes had cut deeply. Blood had trickled from the sides of his mouth. “He was gagged,” Tom said. “I wonder why ?” “Because he might have hollered,” Donovan retorted dryly. “You know, Tom, you’re a good guy and every-— thing, but you ain’t no dick. A blind man could have seen that.” ‘comicbooks co