10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

a brightness along the floor. He went toward it, and the rumbling grew louder, but individual words remained indistinct. The streak of brightness marked the bottom of a closed door. He found the knob, twisted it and punched it away from him. “Hold it!” he bit out. “Don’t move.” The room was a small windowless office, a green-shaded droplight hang- ing from the ceiling. The tense back of Lefty Reid was to Millard, and he was holding a gun on Eddie Fitz, who stood against the opposite wall. Reid jerked his weasel face back over his shoulder and shot a glance at Millard, seemed about to whirl with his gun, but didn’t. Sweat glistened on Fitz’ forehead. He looked across Reid’s shoulder and breathed, with - something like relief in his tone: “Hello, mister dick.” Millard stood on wide-spread feet in the doorway, his chin low on his chest, his eyes tight and watchful un- der the dark bruise on his forehead. “What goes on?” he growled. Watching Reid, Eddie Fitz said: “This stooge of Bonelli’s is a junkie and he’s gone out and got coked to the eyes. He’s got some screwy idea I knocked off his boss and wants to fog me for it. I’ve been trying to argue him out of it.” “Didn’t you?’ Millard muttered. “Didn’t you knock off Bonelli?” Reid was almost dancing with ten- sion. Before Fitz could answer he spat with hysterical exultance: “TI knew you’d come here! I laid for you, you louse!” The nickeled revolver quivered in his hand. “Don’t do it,” Millard ‘warned harshly. “I’ve got a gun in your back, Weasel.” Reid’s shoulders twitched and he suddenly got very still, every muscle in his body drawing tight. Eddie Fitz rubbed his palms slow- ly together, his narrow gaze always watching Reid. “What’d you come here for, Millard?” “T came looking for you. They’ve got May.” THE CORPSE AT THE CARNIVAL——-—-———————_23 Fitz’ Millard. “Who?” “Tt thought maybe you’d know them,” Millard ground out. “‘A couple of out-of-town torpedoes who came looking for you. A big bruiser named Joe, and a stocky guy with a flat — nose.” Eddie Fitz shook his head, a sud- den drawn look of apprehension on his sensitive face. “I don’t know them.” Wild light shimmered in his eyes. “Damn! I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to get May!” “No you don’t!” Reid lipped tight- ly, hunching forward a little. He was keyed up to the danger point, on edge. “Where is she?” Millard rapped. “You know?” “She isn’t here,” Fitz hammered swiftly. “I know one other place they might be holding her—if I’m right. You’ve got to get me out from under this cluck’s gun, Millard!” “All I care about right now is May,” Millard said coldly. “Where would they be holding her, and why?” “That’s all I care about, too, you fool!” Fitz cried hoarsely. “‘What’s the matter with you? If I’ve got this figured right, they’re holding her be- cause they think I know who killed Bonelli, and as long as they’ve got her they know I won’t talk.” “Do you know?” Millard’s eyes were hooded. “I can guess, anyway. And I’m right if they’ve got her where I think they have. I know what’s behind this killing, but I couldn’t hang it on any- one without proof.” There was sweating desperation in Fitz’ voice. “Help me get May, and I’ll give you the killer. I don’t give a damn what happens to me after that. I’ll give my- self up to you. But if you care any- thing for May you’ve got to give me a chance to get her before they fill her full of slugs!” If it was an act, it was a damned good one, and Millard was suddenly. prodded by an urgency for haste. “Okay,” he said. “Drop it, Weasel.” eyes jerked to Gomichbooks.com