10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

Charlie sidled away again, clinked bottles together on the back bar in an assiduous effort to appear occupied. There was a tight grin on Lee’s face as. he jabbed the diamond pin slantingly into the mahogany bar top. He sipped his whiskey until there was a rustle at his side. He turned slowly, saw Greasy Nordile, backed by the two men, up close. Something pressed gently into his side. “I’ve been looking for you,” said Greasy nastily. “Yeah, and what of it, punk?’ asked Lee quietly, his eyes slits of baleful fire. The other’s eyes became vengeful pools of narrowed flame at the words. His arms were folded loosely across his chest and Lee could see the slight bulge under the left arm which told of the easily reached gat. Lee was very quiet and the half full whiskey glass in his hand was as steady as the eyes which arrowed into those of Greasy Nordile. “Guess you'd better come with me,” said Greasy. Then he added, “As a - newspaper man, you’re about ripe for picking.” Greasy’s head jerked signals to the men behind him. They came forward, one on either side of Lee. “You put too many cute things in that trick column of yours,” suggest- ed Greasy. “I get paid for that,” said Lee and held the whiskey glass to his lips. “Yeah, you’ll get paid all right, but you won’t have much use for money after tonight,” sneered Greasy. “T’m petrified, punk.” Greasy’s hand flicked out and knoeked the whiskey glass from Lee’s hand. He stepped back a half-step, swung with his right as he came for- ward on ‘his toes and his brown fist smacked against Lee’s jaw. Lee went back and to his right. His head cracked against the top rail of the bar, elattered against a brass cuspi- dor in falling, and then smacked Let See — ae aD - 1 pal ee ae aereg a eae SO gg a Oe ne ae OT re eG eA hte a See IR OTE Cn et Es macie i>. eee Sa seus oe ses Se RTS . rite Ks = abe = Roe Se eee = A = ae = 2 ~ = a AS = = eee = = < MURDER ON THE CUFF—————————_43 against the inlaid linoleum. He twitched once and lay still. Lee regained consciousness to the tune of little imps beating a tattoo against the inside of his skull with tiny trip-hammers. He _ groaned, turned flat on his back, stretched, yawned and then raised his hands to his head. Pain ebbed and flowed billowingly. He felt as if he were riding in pain- wracked jerks on a sea of torture. Finally the pain jabs lessened and he shook his head slowly to clear away the cobwebs. He was able to navigate fairly true when he struggled to his feet. A water basin of corroded metal in the corner had a single faucet and Lee filled the dirty bowl and dunked his head into it repeatedly. He felt bet- ter now; reached for a cigarette and found two-thirds of a package in his pocket. He puffed gratefully. He smoked, thinking, until the cig- arette tasted hot and acrid to his lips and he fired a fresh one abstractedly. Of course there was hardly a chance but— The room was small, roughly plas- tered. There was a small bed and a dresser with half the mirrer gone. A ecobwebby Mazda threw uneertain light. A window heavily barred with thick wire mesh was to the far side of the bed. Lee inspected it and discovered a red brick wall within twelve inches; escape that way was impossible. “Damn it!” said Lee tonelessly and flipped his cigarette away. HERE was the sound of a pad- lock being unfastened outside. The door opened and Greasy Nordile entered. He was grinning ghoulishly. His gat was handy. “Picture of a newspaper man at the end of his rope,” he said in rare good humor: Lee saw the safety guard of the gat was wide open, “That’s strange,” said Lee evenly, “when a rope would fit your neck so nicely.” Eomichooks (E(e)