10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

99 ————__—_—_—_—_—_—_—_10-STORY DETECTIVE aBout you, Mitts. It’s just they know you'll rat unless they fix the case.” “Nerts !” snarled the prisoner again. Len glanced at his strap-watch. “Hey, bud,” he ‘told Jerry, “snap it up! You’ll be late to your post—and that doesn’t go in the Kirk family!” The rookie grinned guiltily, waved a hasty goodby, and skipped nimbly up to the locker-room. A few other cops were there. He laughed good-natured- ly at their kidding as he laid out his new uniform with loving care. He be- gan a swift change. “Too bad it’s rainin’, kid,” one man said drily. “The rubber coat’s gonna hide your nice new buttons.” Fastening his tunic, Jerry crossed to the window. He pushed back the shade, peered out. The street gleamed a shiny black in the cold drizzle still dripping from sullen, overcast skies. He sighed. The fellow was right. He’d have to wear the clumsy, rubber pon- cho. Down below he saw that Len was just coming out with his burly charge. As they walked down the steps; stood waiting at the curb, an indulgent smile pulled at Jerry’s wide mouth. It was like Len—a little careless, may- be—to stand there, unmindful of the rain, while a driver brought the squad car around from in back. HE rookie’s face, as he watched, went suddenly white: He’d seen something else! Something that sent him clawing madly at the window, while he stared, fascinated, at the scene below. The window stuck—then shot up with a bang. “Len!” he screamed wildly. “Look out!” Too late! The big sedan had sidled up, almost reached the two men at the curb. Something gleamed, caught the light, as the front window slid down. A silencer-fitted pistol. It went plop faintly, and a wisp of smoke curled from its ugly snout. A groan tore from Jerry’s throat as © he saw his brother go down, taking Mitts Berger with him. Len got his = aS gun out, but before he could shoot— the silenced pistol spoke again. Len slumped on the sidewalk. For one brief instant, Jerry glimpsed the white, up-tilted face of his brother. Blood was welling from a hole between the eyes. Then Mitts Berger, still cuffed to the murdered dick, seized the lifeless body in his brawny arms. He leaped bodily toward the yawning rear door of the sedan. As the motor thundered its song of power, Jerry’s .388 kicked sharply against his sweaty palm. The sedan’s ° rear window shivered to splinters. He emptied his gun, firing at the tires. But the death car skittered around a corner, was gone in a burst of fren- zied speed. The squad-car driver, wheeling in- to the street, took up the chase, his siren lifted in a vengeful shriek. The station house door poured men. They stood, helpless, on the sidewalk, star- ing numbly at the red streaks on the rain-wet pavement. Jerry stumbled into a chair. His head pressed tight into quivering hands, his slight figure jerked with dry sobs. He was unaware of the con- soling hands laid hesitantly on his shoulders. Len was dead. Len, his brother, his pal. Len, who’d put him through school, taken care of him when their father’s death made them orphans, Len. Suddenly his shoulders squared. He lunged to his feet, his face gleaming white under tousled red hair. His lips, thinned to a line by tight-clenched jaws, matched the hardness of his steely eyes. He faced Captain Mac- Arthur, who’d entered the room. “Sir,” he announced huskily, “I’ve something to report. The license num- ber—” The older man nodded. “We got it,” he interrupted. “We’re checking, but it’s probably a stolen car.” Jerry, fighting his voice to keep it steady, jerked out “Sir! I want to go after those rats! I—I’ve got to!” The captain frowned, shook his sil- ver-streaked head uncomfortably. cS (ee) - : s) ree in Ccomicboo 7 tl tt ap ee > Ty 6 oD ay Ua Seay, mont