10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

10 0-STORY DETECTIVE quarter’s worth of: “I saw the whole thing. This gentleman was just mov- ing away from the bar when the guy rammed into him, and then tried to pull a gun. I saw the whole thing.” “Yeah,” I said, “everybody saw it. Let’s forget it.” The orchestra was going full blast now and the dinner crowd were most- ly back at the tables, or moving around on the dance floor. There was still a chatter of “.... did you see that....” but it was dying out. I glanced over at the Hedgewick table and discovered that nobody had moved; they were all sitting the way they’d been when the waiter called Ricconi, except that now they all seemed tense, as if they'd been sud- denly wound up. I just caught a quick glimpse of them and wondered idly why none of them had moved out to help the guy; then I turned back to the bar. ? “T could use a Scotch,” I told Tony. The truth was, I could’ve used about eight Scotches. I could still see Ric- coni standing there, not saying any- thing, but promising me death with his eyes. I didn’t like the picture. CHAPTER II CORPSE RENDEZVOUS ONY pushed the Seotch out across the bar at me and [ reached to pick it up, but I was slow. The girl’s fingers curled around the glass and pulled it away from me, sliding it down the bar. I knew who it was; just seeing her hand, I could tell. I turned slowly, watching her pour the drink between her red lips. “There’s more,” she told me, ‘“‘lots more, where that went to.” She was leaning toward me, as though she might be having trouble in standing up, as though in a minute she’d pitch forward into my arms. I wondered what it would be like to have a beauty like her fold up in my arms. Nice, I decided. I turned back to the bar without saying anything and ordered another Scotch. It worked swell. “Just suppose,” she said softly, “just suppose some one wanted to buy you a headstone. What name would they have carved on it?’ I said: “The name is Steve Craig. With one ‘g.’ But they put the tomb- stone order in twenty-nine years ago. And it’s still on the books.” “Yes,” she agreed, “‘it’s still on the books. And no wonder, if you can make men like Ricconi crawl.” She was turning it on heavy now, but there was something in her voice I didn’t like. As though the picture of Rieconi crawling gave her a thrill. I swung around, sore. “Listen, sister,” I told her. “That guy didn’t crawl. He didn’t open his trap. He was just overplayed, that’s all. And he had brains enough to know it.” I tried to keep my eyes off her, but they kept swinging back, and I began to realize why Hedgewick called her the find of the year. “He could see the cards were stacked against him,” I finished lamely, “but he didn’t exact- ly run out on me. He'll be around.” “He won’t be around,” she said quietly. “Not him.” I grinned. “All right,” I told her, ““s0 he won’t be around. So you know his type better than I do. He’ll let me push him all over the lot and not come back for another crack. I don’t think.” She shook her head, carefully, so the dark hair would curve gracefully around her slim shoulders. Every- thing that fluff did was careful, studied. “We're going back on lecation,” she explained. “Hedgewick, Voss, Kane and I. We’re finishing my new pic- ture in the valley, about one hundred miles from here, just past Larido. So we'll all be leaving soon.’ I said, “All?” and the girl let her white teeth flash out at me. COmMiICLOooks (C@