10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

TSD the socks. He pulled the trousers up, the socks down. Mowat’s ankles were bruised and discolored. His gaze rested thought- fully on Mowat’s gnarled hands. A heap of wooden matches stood on the dresser, some toothpicks inter- mixed. He took one of the picks and cleaned under a nail on each of Mo- wat’s dead hands. Grimacing at the white, dry stuff, he looked at the red deep in under the nails, dried, crusty. He whirled at a touch, faced Sharon. “Hammond, I can’t stand you thinking of me as you do.” “Exactly what is this marvelous scheme of Agnew’s?” “It’s a manufacturing process for steel, much cheaper—” Agnew burst into the room. “Just what are you getting at? I’m con- foundedly tired of your play-acting, Hammond.” Agnew caught hold of Sharon and yanked him round. “I’ve trusted you with some valuable se- crets, Sharon. See that you keep your mouth shut.” An ugly expression gave the order emphasis. “Just a moment, Agnew.” Ham- mond thrust Sharon aside and faced Agnew. “Did you discuss this business Sharon wanted to go in on, with Mo- wat?” “Go to hell!” Agnew roared. “I’m leaving here, but if I hear of you med- dling in my affairs, I'll be back, Ham- mond.” “How about it, Sharon? You think Agnew tried to interest your uncle in this scheme?’ “They did have a lot of conferences, but I thought Agnew was trying to eonvince uncle to let me have the money.” “Conferences be damned!” Agnew exploded. “Chats! That’s all, chats.” Hammond struck Agnew a swift ‘blow in the chest, and as Agnew stumbled back, knocked him into a chair and grabbed up Agnew’s ankles. “What are you doing?” Agnew screamed, kicking. : Hammond ripped Agnew’s socks. HOMICIDE DEMON —— 49 “Look at those scratches. Sharon, phone the police.” “But I don’t understand.” Sharon stared. “Damn your stupid head, who asked you to? Phone.” Sharon weaved towards the door. “Stop!’ Agnew had a gun pointed at Hammond’s heart. Sharon stopped, a cry in his throat. “You got orders from me,” Ham- mond barked. “Go out that door and phone the police. Agnew killed your uncle. You may kill me”—he gripped Agnew’s ankle—“but you’ll never be fast enough to keep him from getting the police. You’re done, Agnew.” “Like hell! Let him move, I’ll show you how fast I ean be. He can’t prove anything. And neither can you.” “Don’t you believe it. Mowat put his money into your scheme, thinking to quadruple it and surprise Sharon with a big inheritance. You’re just a rotten, dirty swindler, Agnew. You took Mowat’s money. He got the idea you were swindling him, and he came to me. I believe Mowat gave you till this evening to return his money, and to show he wasn’t fooling, he hired me. I still doubt that Mowat would have hired a friend of Sharon’s if he thought Sharon wanted to kill him. Tt’s you, Agnew.” “Hammond,” Sharon cried, “may- be he did swindle uncle. But- he couldn’t have killed him. Uncle Mowat died.” “Maybe! Huh! He swindled your unele all right, and probably he’s swindled a lot of others who'll be only too glad to come forward and testify to what they know about Agnew.” 66 LL right, you’ve got me,” Ag- new howled. “You’re talking murder to seare me into confessing the swindle. I admit it. I can’t stand to be exposed. But if you’ll let me get out of town, I'll refund Mowat’s money. How about it, Hammond?” “What you need now, Agnew, is‘a friend, and murder’s a poor provider. Sharon, I told you go get the cops. com ichbooks;com)