10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

- later an inspector, had pounded that beat. And, more recently, his brother, Len. Len was now second-grade de- tective attached to this same precinct. Inside, before hurrying to his lock- er to don bright new serge and glitter- ing buttons, the rookie paused at the detective room. There was just time to say “‘hello” to Len before the lat- ter went off duty. Jerry welcomed the chance, because now they wouldn’t be seeing each other much, since they worked on different shifts. He eased the door open, thrust in his fiery red thatch of hair, while a ready grin cracked across his freckled face. Detective Lieutenant Lentz was first to see him. “Come on in, kid,” the grizzled veteran invited. “Where’s your uniform? Len here’s been crow- in’ about how swell you make it look and—blamed if I think he’s seen it on you yet!” Jerry’s brother, standing with an- other man close beside him, turned quickly. He was taller, heavier than the slightly built rookie, but his eyes had the same fearless intensity, his chin the same proud strength. “Don’t let the lieutenant kid you, bud,” he warned. “He knows anyone looks good in uniform—if he’s a Kirk.” In the laugh that followed Jerry got a look at the fellow on his brother’s left, saw why he stood so close. A circle of steel glittered about his wrist, binding him prisoner to the tall detective. A mountain of a man, with close-bunched, burly shoulders, he stood in sullen silence, his small, ratty eyes half-veiled by drooping lids. Jerry frowned. Something vaguely fa- Ut te “Take a good squint, bud,” Len grinned, as he swung the prisoner into better view. “It’s the last time you'll see him—I hope. Three-time loser. This time, if we send him up, it’s for keeps.”’ He smiled at the boy’s puz- zled scrutiny. “Don’t remember him, huh? Well, he has changed some since you batted each other around at Public School nineteen. He’s—” A DATE WITH DOOM———————————89 “ ‘Mitts’ Berger!” said Jerry, as re¢- ognition flamed in his eyes. Sure, he knew him. Bully, tough kid—in a school where all kids were tough. Jer- ry remembered—remembered how he’d fought the roughneck, older, big- ger than himself, when he picked on smaller boys. They glared at each other, eyes blazing in fierce renewal of a boyhood hatred. Jerry asked: “What’ve you got on him? Wha’d you bring him here for? Why not headquarters?” Len winked at the grizzled lieuten- . ant. “Guess they still don’t teach ’em all the tricks at police school.” He ex- plained to Jerry: “We picked Mitts up on suspicion. Think he pulled the silk-loft job two nights ago. Mitts and a couple of other mugs. Shot up the watchman, left him for dead. Got away with a truck-load of silk. Twen- ty grand, maybe more.” “But why bring him here?” Jerry insisted. “Because—” Len’s tone was hard, bitter— “he’s got a smart mouthpiece. The shyster’s always beat the rap be- fore—shot him off scot-free or with just a few months’ sentenee. This time—” he smiled bleakly at his glow- ering prisoner—‘“we fixed that. Took Mitts to headquarters, gave him the phone call that the law allows, then booked him under a phony name he’s used once or twice.” He laughed. “When the mouthpiece showed up with his writ, there wasn’t any Mitts Ber- ger on hand. We’d brought him out here for safe-keeping. No rigged-up alibi is gonna bust this case!” “Nerts!” growled the big, apish fellow. “You ain’t got nothin’ on me!” Jerry asked: “Where are you tak- ing him now, Len?” “St Mary’s Hospital. The watch- man’s pulling through. Conscious now—ought to be able to identify this mug.” Len grinned sourly at the sul- ‘Jen crook. “That’s got your rodmen plenty scared, Mitts. Some one tried to plug the watchman today from a window across the street from the hospital. Not that they give a hang (e(e) ~ comicboo cS