10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

16—_——_———10-STORY DETECTIVE— mingling with passersby under the lights, a big blue bus was just loading to pull out. She boarded it. Millard tailed the bus in a cab. It cruised to the center of the beach business dis- trict where May alighted and changed to a taxi. When she paid off the driver, it was a spot near the water-front again, a rundown half-deserted district of dark streets and darker alleys. Mil- lard got rid of his cab a square and a half behind her, waited in a door- way till she, after looking around, walked half a block and entered a door under a feeble night lamp that burned before an old frame building. Striding toward it, he saw that it was a cheap hotel, only three stories. The clerk at the desk was. hostile at first, but the sight of Millard’s special shield made him wilt as if he were scared green. He stuttered a room number and Millard went up the stairs. There wasn’t any elevator. The hall on the third floor was si- lent and dim and musty, a moth- eaten runner under his feet. Millard located the door that had the number the clerk had given him, had his gun out when he tried the knob. Unlocked, the door swung inward under the pressure of his hand, and May Fitz stood facing him in the center of the room. Her hands were clenched at her breast and her eyes stared at him in glassy despair. Millard stepped in- side, his dark eyes wary, watchful. “Hello, May.” HE didn’t answer. She didn’t say anything. She just stood there, staring as if mesmerized. Something was wrong. He should have known that, but he didn’t get it for a mo- ment—and a moment was too long. The door slammed shut behind him and a blunt steel ring dug into his spine. “Hold it, mister dick,” a taut voice breathed. ‘‘And let the heater slide.” Millard’s muscles had gone rigid, but he let them relax. His face was a mask, his gaze bitter as it held on the girl. She had helped trap him. He thumbed the safety of his auto- matic to the on position, let it drop gently to the carpet, said: “Hiddie—for Pete’s sake take it easy. I didn’t come here for you,” The gun in his back spurred him forward. “Not much you didn’t! You private eyes are all alike; you'd sell out your own mother for a little gelt on the line. I know damn well you’re working for this new reform mayor.” May Fitz quailed back under Mill- ard’s accusing gaze. Fingers went to her quivering lips and she sobbed, “Oh, Eddie!” and swung away to a corner. Millard noticed the phone’ on the wall and made a mental note to sock the desk clerk on his way out —if he got out. The clerk had used the phone to warn Eddie Fitz. He pivoted. Fitz stood before the door, an ugly snub-nosed revolver glittering in his right fist. He looked hard and cold, his gray eyes snapping nervously. He was a man of about the same build as Millard, lean and lithe, with sharp sensitive facial fea- tures, some gray at his temples. “You lousy heel,’ he said softly. “Playing up to May—using her— gaining her confidence so you could tail her to me. But you’re not taking me, mister dick.” Millard’s face was dark with an- ger. “You'll eat those words before you’re through, Eddie. Use your head. I’m only trying to help May.” “That’s why you followed her here, huh?” Fitz kneeled and scooped up Millard’s gun, circled around the room and thrust the automatic at his sister. “Take this, May, and hold it on him till I get. away. I can’t stick around here now. This guy may have some pals behind him.” May took the gum reluctantly, un- willingly, holding it in both hands, her eyes pleading with her brother through a sheen of tears. “Keep your chin up, kid,” he told her tightly. “And, just in case—” He whirled, swung the snub-nosed Gomichbooks.com