10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

- anything, even at the risk of his police career, for the sake of Timmy. Phillips was getting no place when the captain said: “Three of the five minutes are up for the questioning I’m letting ye have. I can’t hold these people any longer. Their mouth- piece’ll be along any minute now.” Dugan spat disgustedly on the floor and said: “Phillips, yuh punk, we let you off easy on those other two phony arrests you made. It you get funny this time, I'll sue the limit. You’ll get kicked clean off the force.” Jim Phillips was incapable of doing anything more. He felt that he was licked. But he kept wondering and wondering where Timmy had gotten the shoe polish with which to make the fingerprints on his collar—when he’d left his shoe-shining equipment at the table. Then it struck Phillips what the kid had done. He couldn’t be sure, but he was going to bank on the thought that had suddenly come to him. Quickly he ran his gaze over the men lined up before him. Dressed fit to kill, shoes gleaming with fresh shines, they stood arrogantly defiant. Then Jim Phillips leaped forward, fist lashing out—straight at Spike Dugan, Dugan went down in a tangle... . It wasn’t long after that, just when Dugan was coming to—with the bracelets on him—that Jim Phillips was explaining things to Captain O’Brien. “You see, captain,” he said, “when Timmy got the slug in him he had one last idea—to identify his mur- derer, and by using his pet subject, fingerprints. The kid was dying. But when he slid down to the floor of the phone booth, he managed to rub his fingers on Dugan’s shoes. That was how he got the polish to make the fingerprints on his collar.” Dugan was conscious now, but still groggy. He gaped in amazement at his feet. For his shoes had been re- moved—by Phillips. “T hope you’re right,” said O’Brien. I hope the kid’s fingerprints are—” you did some quick thinkin’. .. . Now, One of the Bertillion boys came ie =) and said laconically, as though the whole business was just unimportant routine stuff: “You’re right, Phillips. The kid’s fingerprints are on Dugan’s Shoes. I’ll have to make a better set of ’em for court exhibits. But they’re the same. The kid got the polish on his hands offa Dugan’s shoes when the guy put the slug in him in the phone booth. His prints on Dugan’s shoes’ll put the guy in the chair. But he'll have to go down to the cooler without any. shoes, prints rubbed off.” “T had to jump him, captain,” Phil- lips said. “I couldn’t speak up about prints when I noticed Dugan’s — smudged shees or maybe he’d have had time to rub the evidence off.” The captain massaged his chin thoughtfully, said: “Well, Phillips, you were right. The prints match an’ I’m sure we’ll get an indictment... . ’cause I don’t . wanta take a chance on havin’ the ; { ay Ay. if MP ay a Ay IX Oa Vn " ai 7 Palast Lay a Ue \ Tat | v9 an 2 Sea hid MJ ridin, 4 m4 Hum, I can’t very well demote you to | — a beat now, but I’m goin’ to have quite a job to teach you not to take crazy chances. Even though I must admit what was it you were goin’ to tell me about feelin’ better about. Timmy if you got his murderer?” Phillips’ eyes clouded with grief as he said: “You see, captain, the docs said the kid couldn’t live longer than a few months at the most. Timmy al- | ways wanted to catch a murderer. So Timmy died at the happiest, top mo-_ ment of his life, That’s why I had to—” “You’re a crazy, sentimental fool!” the captain snorted, but a little of the sadness was gone from his eyes. “Get outta here!” he roared. going!” “Let's get 4A t ty mf Wee Ws Tipe Ale Ren ities Bit ay ay ' ¢ 4 Through the years of his life, Big x Jim Phillips kept a shabby shoe- shine box in a glass case atop his book case. Friends unfamiliar with the | story of Timmy, often inquired about it. But none got an answer. Some = = made humorous ———— never — more = once. ... ao = cbooks.com