10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

“Just _ Phillips finally burst out: this. You’re not goin’ to make a stoolie outta that kid, Timmy Well- man, I'll not stand for it! I spent a year puttin’ that kid on his feet— hospital, clothes, sehoolin,’ coupla shoe-Shine concession jobs—and he’s like my own to me.” The captain half rose from behind his desk, fists banging down on its top. “Oh, you’re not goin’ to stand fer it, eh?” he bellowed, deep-red face now turning slightly purple. “You're not! . . . Listen, you’d better watch your tongue, Phillips, or you'll be back on a beat quicker than you’re slated for now—the poor work you’ve been doin’ in plain clothes. ... An’ it just so happens that I’m not usin’ Timmy as a stool, He wants to be a great big, dandy detective like you—” ically—“so he’s been keepin’ his eyes an’ ears open around saloons and pool halls and sueh, and at his shine concession in the Arcadia Dance Hall, And some of his info may prove pretty fair leads.” “It’s stoolin’ just the same,” Jim Phillips insisted, hotly. Captain O’Brien roared: “He has nothin’ to do with any crooks. He only tells me what he sees around different places.” “Well, I’m goin’ to find Timmy and see that he stops it—at once!” Phil- lips returned, voice rising also. ‘I’m not goin’ to have that poor little kid shot fulla lead. ... But what would you know about a kid, captain? I’ve never known you to even speak to one.” The choleric color receded from the deteetive captain’s face, and slowly he sank back into his chair. In —— a whisper he said: “Yes, I had a kid once, long a0. Died with its mother, ... All right, Phillips—you’re right. Have a good stiff talk with Timmy. Tell him he can’t bring any more of his detective- game reports in here. Make him stay out of the dives; make him stick to shoe-shining in the Arcadia and that ; ee, concession you got him.” - ~~ —_ - a oa ee figs or Og ee Fees =a ee oe a Seo Sage sae Seer. es == eagle ne ne ae eee ee ee oF — - — rag _ Big Jim Phillips’ face relaxed into __ a half smile as he said: “Thanks, cap- tain. Can’t tell you how glad I am you see it that way. I~” The captain cut in, gruffly: “Okay, okay, Phillips—we’ll drop the mat- — ter right there. See that you get over tonight and keep an eye on the River Street gang. They’re throwin’ a ban- quet shindig tonight an’ windin’ up the party at the dance hall. Be on hand there an’ see if you’ve got the brains to pick up anythin’ interestin’. And remember, no more phony ar- rests. Your work during the next week’ll tell whether or not ye go back into harness, ... That'll be all.” “Yes, sir.” Phillips turned stiffly. and strode from the office. He was hoping he’d found out in time about the kid’s visits to the captain. Why in hell hadn’t Timmy told him what he’d been up to? ATER, Jim Phillips climbed into his car and drove to Timmy’s home. There he found the kid helping his grandmother, the only relative he had left, with the supper dishes. “Evenin,’ Grandma; evenin,’ Tim- my,” the big plainclothes man said heartily. He noticed that the old wom- an was unusually strained, that there was a look of deep dread in her eyes as she turned to greet him. The de- tective turned again to Timmy. — “Young man, I want to have a talk — with you tonight, so you'll just start out a little earlier for the Arcadia. I’m going—” He stopped short as Timmy’s grandmother shook her head slightly, significantly. Phillips — hadn’t wanted to talk to Timmy in front of her about the kid’s playing detective; didn’t want to worry the old lady. “Run along outside, Timmy, and wait for Jim there,” she said. “I want to speak to Jim alone.” Timmy looked from one to the oth- er with large, dark eyes set in a thin, narrow face. “Okay,” he said, and — picking up his shoe-shine box, he left. = old woman n dabbed a ‘ tear out of :