10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

“Such as fixing Bonelli’s wagon?” Millard suggested, looking at him from the corners of his eyes. Fitz’ gaze didn’t leave the road, but his answer had a hard overtone. ‘I’m not talking about that yet, even to you—not till we get May out of the spot she’s in. Take care of her, will you, Millard, after—I’m gone?” “T’ll take care of her if she’ll let me,” Millard promised in an under- tone that was almost like a prayer. “But can’t you get any more knots out of this hoopie?”’ Instead of answer, Fitz eased the car abruptly before a café that had a lighthouse tower and faced the ocean. He swung sharply to the right in a slewing hairpin turn, up and into a steep grade that climbed the face of the palisades, zigzagging back and forth. The car roared to the top and they eut to the left, swung down through the side of a wide canyon, slowed into a dark side street. Fitz eut the lights and ignition. CHAPTER V HOMICIDE PAYOFF T was a blind 3 street and down ee at its end a white tg) fence blocked the Saas | road, visible in the light that seeped from the windows of a lone house standing there. Off in back, under the clouds was the hunched dark purple of the Santa Monica mountains. The other way, and far below, was the blackness of the sea. Fitz was out of the car before it came to a full stop, the gun in his hand and motioning Millard to fol- low. He cut off in a wide circle across the vacant stretch between the car and the house. There was some scrub growth, and he slid along behind it, taking what advantage he could of THE CORPSE AT THE CARNIVAL——-—-————————25 4h cover. Millard was right behind im. They stopped, crouched low behind some brush, not ten yards from the rear of the house, a low stucco bun- galow. Most of the windows here at the rear were dark, the shades drawn. Fitz’ low voice came fiat and emotion- less as that of a deaf man: “T’ll take the back. You take the front. I'll wait till you get set, then we'll both bust in at the same time. That way we ought to catch them by surprise.” “How about taking it easy?” Mill- ard argued. “If May’s in there, we don’t want to take any chances on her being hurt.” “Okay,” Fitz snapped impatiently, like a dog straining on a leash. “T’ll try to find a way in back here. You take the front, find a window you can see into and cover them from there.” Millard crawled away, ducking low and going along the side of the house. At the first lighted window he came to, he rose and tried to see inside, but the shade was drawn to the very bot- tom. He was moving on when from somewhere within came a woman’s cry, as piercing as it was low. He stopped cold and his neck bris- tled like a dog’s. He knew that voice, knew it belonged to May. A shiver drove through him, rat- tled his teeth. And it wasn’t a cold night. It was warm, a night to make love. He heard Eddie Fitz’ feet pound- ing toward the back door. Fitz had heard that cry, too. Millard was suddenly plunging recklessly for the front of the house, but he hadn’t made the corner before he heard Eddie Fitz crash in through the back door. It sounded as if he took the whole door with him. And then, while Millard was bounding around to the front porch, guns began to bellow and roar inside the house. He was up on the porch, going for a front window, when the front door whipped open. The automatic flipped u> in Millard’s hand, but before he squeezed trigger, a shot thundered CONMICDOOKS. CO