10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

you helped Eddie escape.”’ On Millard, his gaze was doubtful, his tone half- accusing. “Sure,” Millard said. “Reid wanted to kill Eddie.” “By damn!” Stendahl exploded, standing up and facing Lefty Reid. “T just remembered—this rat comes from Frisco!” Reid’s sharp face was tight and twitching. King snapped an irritable glance around, clipped out: “What is this, anyway?” Hernandez, still leaning back be- hind the desk, spoke in a slow drawl. “Millard was just about to name the killer of Bonelli when you busted in. He claims it’s some one from San Francisco.” “Well!” King faced the homicide lieutenant, fists planted on his hips. “This procedure is highly irregular, to say the least. Millard’s slate isn’t clean in this mess, by any means.” Millard said: “I was too busy help- ing to save May Fitz from a couple of dirty hoods to worry about that up to now.” Stendahl had advanced on Reid, his mean mouth twisted. And Reid shrank back, his eyes jumping about as though seeking some means of es- cape. “Not me!” he whined. “You can’t hang that killing on me! I was out- side when Bonelli came down the slide.” “Who, Millard?” Hernandez asked. “Tf I name him,” Millard said, “do May and I get a clean slate?” Hernandez hesitated a moment, his eyes still almost closed, then nodded slowly. “If you can tie him up?” Millard turned and looked at Reid, said: “No, not you. “Then he glared at the tall lean-hipped man standing before the door. “‘Cosgrave...” Abrupt silence clamped down on the room. Cosgrave stared back at Millard, then laughed. “You’re nuts!” King’s good-looking face was bewil- dered. “What do you mean?” he de- manded. “Cosgrave is an investigator for the Better Citizenship League. THE CORPSE AT THE CARNIVAL—-—-—————_29 Why would he kill anyone? You’re erazy, Millard.” Millard didn’t take his eyes off Cosgrave. ‘“Maybe that job is just as front for his real business. He came here two years ago from San Fran- cisco, and right after that Sunshine Beer began to be sold on draught here. He was at the Dragon Slide right after Bonelli came down the chute. “He could have been up above when Bonelli got there, brained him with a pipe or whatever he used, thrown the pipe out into the ocean, gone down the ladder he pointed out, slipped around to the front in the crowd. He would never have walked in here now like this, if he’d known May Fitz was free and his two imported muscle- men had been gunned out.” Cosgrave was smiling and his smile showed hard white teeth. Hernandez had rocked forward in his chair, said slowly, emphatically : “That’s a serious charge, Millard. Have you got anything to back it up, outside of your second-guessing?”’ ILLARD had no proof and he knew it. All he had was a dead certainty that he was right; he had to be, to get May in the clear. His face was dark, bitterly sullen. “Hell,” he snarled, “two and two makes four, doesn’t it? All you have to do is add it up and get the picture.” “You’re having pipe dreams, Mil- lard,” Cosgrave said easily. “That kind of picture isn’t enough to get an indictment,” King sniffed. “The case would be thrown out of court. You’re stalling, Millard—try- ing to save yourself and the girl. But you can’t do it. I’m going to hold you both.” May Fitz had come to sudden ani- mated life, half-rising from her chair. She was staring at Cosgrave with horror-stricken realization. “Yes!” she breathed tensely. “Yes! It was Cosgrave! It has to be. He was the. only other one besides Eddie that I told where and when I was going to comichbooks.;com