10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

dahi and Cosgrave eyed him curiously. Then King said, “Yes. Yes, if that’s the case, of course. Yes, sir,” and hung up slowly. He swung around and there was a sulkily angry look to his face; his eyes still fumed. He was a poor loser. — : “Who was it?” Stendahl asked, un- able to hold back the question. “Mayor Peters,” King snapped with unconcealed ill-grace. “It seems Millard is the mayor’s personal rep- resentative or something!” “Oh!” Stendahl’s brows went up and he stared at Millard. Cosgrave spread his crooked grin. “So, you’re working for his nibs,” “Yeah.” Millard nodded. “Just do- ing a little scouting around, looking into who and what’s behind this pe- tition that’s being circulated to di- vorece the beach towns from the city. I found out enough to know it was Bonelli and the gambling syndicate. “If I get the goods on it, the mayor could kill the petitions with a news release. Maybe he won’t have to now, with Bonelli in happier hunting grounds. This is all on the q.t., so keep it under your collective hats.” Stendahl nodded, but had seemed to draw frigidly back into himself, suspicious antagonism coming into his eyes. Cosgrave, his tall military figure always at ease, probably put some of the police detective’s thoughts | into words as he complained with mock petulance: “That’s a hell of a note. Here the Better Citizenship League gets O’Brien recalled and Peters elected, and the new mayor hires his own un- dercover investigator. I work for the League, and if they find this out I’m liable to be out of a job. But maybe we could join forces, huh, Millard?” “Maybe,” Millard said. “But I’m washed up for tonight. You guys can carry on.” - He recovered his hat but didn’t put it on, spotted his gun on the table where Joe had evidently left it, went over and retrieved it, started for the door. With one hand on the knob, he a“ THE CORPSE AT THE CARNIVAL—-—-——————_21 leoked back at King. “No hard feel- ings, huh?” The D.A.’s face was cold and ex- pressionless, his lips thin, a smolder- ing’ fire’ banked in his eyes. He didn’t answer. Millard moved one shoulder, his mouth hardening. “Okay. If that’s the way you want it.” “Where’s May Fitz?” King ground out. ILLARD was staring into space and his eyes were haggard. ‘“‘I don’t know. She’s gone—and you bet- ter get a tag out for those two mutts.” He gave a brief word picture of the two men who had been in the room before he’d been knocked out. He swallowed hard. “I’m afraid—they’ve got her.” Stendah! clipped: “T’ll get their de- scription sent out over the short wave.” Millard nodded tiredly, turned and went out into the hall. With the door closed behind him, he stalked to the stairs and down. The picture of May was in his mind. He kept seeing her face wilt under Joe’s fist, and forgot all about the fact that — he was supposed to be working for a guy called mayor. The two loogans had taken May away with them, and if Blue-Jowls and his cousin Joe were out-of-town hoods on their own, finding them would be next to impossible. But he had to find them, and when he did he’d beat the hell out of them. This was the one thought in his brain, the one all-consuming purpose that motivated him now. His eyes were a little bit mad, the eyes of a man obsessed, and when he went up to the desk in the lobby the clerk quailed back behind it. No one else was down there, noth- ing but old plush and dust. Millard reached across the desk and got hold of the clerk’s necktie, jerked him for- ward till the shiny pimpled face was. close to his own. “You louse,” he gritted. “Who were COMNIE OOOKS sO)