10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

PLUNDER PACT——————————————87 “Split seventy grand, huh?” it was saying. “Not me. Yeah, I got more li- cense plates, Grubb. I got another car I’m lammin’ out in. There was two knockout drops in that booze. I don’t need you no more. You'll go to sleep pretty. I’m gonna leave the car run- nin’ when I go out an’ lock the door. When they find you, they’ll think you fell down on somethin’ an’ knocked yourself out. Then the gas from the exhaust will put you where you can’t foller me. Me—split—” Grubb, on legs that seemed to have turned to kite tails, strove to reach the mocking hazy figure of Lund. The lightning outside flashed as Grubb’s knees caved in. ITH his face twisted in unholy mirth, Snapper Lund dragged Grubb to the side of the car, laid him down on the floor so that his head rest- ed against a heavy iron tire rim. He lifted the head and cracked it down against the heavy metal. Then Lund, laughing crazily, got into the car, started the engine. He clambered out of the car and hurried to the garage doors. As the doors slammed shut behind him, Snapper Lund broke into a run. The money was tucked under his arm. Ten minutes later he drove a road- ster out of an old shed that squatted in one corner of a junkyard and head- ed to the main highway to Brans- ford. About one o’clock in the morning, with the rain still beating down, Snap- per Lund drove his car up to a farm- house over the door of which was a sien creaking and gyrating in the wind. He knocked on the door and in a short time an elderly man answered. “Been drivin’ in the storm,” Snap- per grinned. “Tried to get through but got tired. How ‘bout a place to flop ?” “Put your car in the barn,” the man said. ‘““Then I’ll show you a room. Dol- lar for tonight an’ fifty cents for breakfast.” It was just daylight when Snapper awoke. He sat straight up in bed, a tingling sensation coursing up his spine, His sleep-drugged eyes stared out of the window. The storm was over and the sky was pink. A knock came on the door. That was what had awak- ened him then. The old guy had been getting him out. “Thinks I’m a hick, huh?’ Lund growled as he swung out of bed. “Thinks I’m gonna get up this early, does he? I’ll show the old skunk.” He crossed the room in his bare feet, turned the rusty key in the lock and swung the door open. Snapper Lund’s face whitened and he uttered a shriek of rage and terror as he tried to slam the door shut. But a hand was push- ing the door in and another hand was holding a gun. “Gr-rubb!” the fear-ridden crook jerked out. “Y-you—’ Two state troopers had crowded Grubb in, each wielding a gun. “Yeah,” the crook grinned. “They grabbed me tryin’ to steal a car, Snap- per. I was comin’ for you. You see I knew all your plans. There’s only two tourist joints in Bransford. That cop you killed, Snapper, fired low at the car when we was pullin’ out. It got the gas tank close to the bottom. The gas leaked out, Snapper, an’ the car stopped runnin’. We used a lot when we kept it runnin’ in the alley, too. That’s why I’m here.” Grubb laughed metallically. “I know where his gun is, coppers, the one he used to bump off the bull back in town. The dough’s here somewheres. Everybody knows I nev- er pack no guns.” “Y-you dirty rat!” Snapper Lund screeched. “T get five years,” Grubb said, after a yawn. “You get the chair, Snapper.”’ He laughed as the troopers manacled Lund. “Yeah, that’s what I call a good split, Snapper.” ' <<>> COMME MIOOK<S CON)