10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

102 Duryea stopped and said: “’Lo, Crain.” “Have an apple?” the cop asked. Duryea looked at the Italian propri- etor who was scowling. Then he shook his head and said: “No.”’ Crain threw the core of the first apple on top of the fruit display and selected a sec- ond apple meticulously. “What brings you out this way?” Crain asked. “Nothin much,” Duryea answered. “T was just browsin’ around.” “Um,” Crain said. “Too bad about little O’Reilly.” “Yeh, I hated to bring her in. But a crook is a crook. We’re wearing a uniform, y’know.” A faint tinge of scorn showed in Duryea’s face, but his voice was as expressionless as usual when he said: “Headlines for you, too.” “T was just doing my duty.” “T never would of figured Patty mixed up in a crooked deal.” “Sometimes these innocent-looking skirts is the crookedest. You got to learn that, y’know.” Duryea ached to plant his big fist on Crain’s long nose. “Sure,” he agreed instead. “But I still can’t figure how you ever thought of stoppin’ Patty.” “Tt all comes of havin’ brains. And usin’ them.” “It’s still pretty dim.” “ll draw you a picture sometime,” Crain said with heavy sarcasm. “Yeh. Hear Muffy Sirro is comin’ down to get Patty out of it.” “News to me,’ Crain stated and went on munching his apple. “Yeh. Well, g’by.” Duryea moved off. ._ Crain hadn’t batted an _ eyelash when he had lied about Muffy Sirro. Indeed, it seemed that it had really been news to him. Somebody had got to Crain, and abrupt mention of Sirro’s name hadn’t produced an im- pression. Funny. Patty 10-STORY DETECTIVE OLIO’S Fur Store was on Forty- fifth Street, two blocks over and one down. It was a dingy place, badly lighted and musty smelling. A faded blonde approached as Duryea entered. “Golio in?” Duryea asked. “He’s in conference. He may be an hour. If you'll wait—” “Tell him Duryea wants to see him.” The girl hesitated, shrugged and disappeared through a dirty back door marked OFFICE. She returned a mo- ment later and said: “Mr. Golio can’t see you now. You'll have to wait.” ven’ ; He pushed past the girl, caught the knob of the door and opened it. Golio was in the act of vanishing through a rear exit. “°*Lo, Golio. Don’t let me break up the conference.” The fur dealer cursed under his breath and reentered his office. “You got a helluva crust breakin’. in on a guy like this!” he cried. “T always wondered what one of these conferences was like, kind of.” “Well, what do you want? Say it an’ get out!” “T was aimin’ for a peaceable chat.” “Ah, come on, flatfoot. What d’ya want?” Duryea lowered his massive body into an ancient office chair. He glanced around the room. Narrow, light entering it from a small, barred transom-like window. “This,” he said slowly and distinct- ly, “is the second time today I been in a damp, dark little room with bars across the windows.” Golio caught his drift at once. “If you’re talkin’ about that - O’Reilly girl, I don’t know anything about her! She was just lyin’ an’ she don’t work here no more!” “Yeh. Well, I was just wonderin’ how she coulda pulled that fur rob- bery. It don’t sound like a lone job.” “Don’t jaw about it to me! I run a straight business! I got no use for comichbooks.com