10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

20—————_—__————_10-STORY DETECTIVE—-————_—__—__——_—"—+ “Bridge?” She drifted into the room, her tiny feet seeming to glide over the sawdust floor. She stopped near me, looking down at the body. I said: “Enjoy yourself, sister. It may be your last chance.” I was begin- ning to feel sick. I’ve seen ’em hard, but this little fluff was beyond the pale. “This is a job for the police.” That was Hedgewick again, and this time I listened. “I’ll send some one to the vil- lage.’ I could feel his eyes on me, and I knew what it meant. “Yeah,” I said, slowly, “you’d bet- ter send some one to the village.” I went outside, leaving them there. The last glimpse I had was of Vera Rey- nault standing there and staring at the body on the fioor. I was through, licked. I’d figured on time, time to sort out the crazy angles of the setup. Even though the police had already found Ricconi’s body, parked in my car, I’d figured they wouldn’t locate me right off. That’s how I’d played it; on a time basis. And that was over. I moved down the road toward my roadster. It would be maybe an hour and a half before the cops showed. In an hour and a half a guy could get a pretty good start, And it looked as though I needed it. The little blonde’s killing might’ve been tied up with Ric- coni, in some sort of a triangle, but it might not have, too. As far as I could see, that didn’t help my spot any. When the police pulled in to figure the second murder, they’d find the guy they’d been looking for for the first. There was about one chance in fifty I could sell them the idea I was clean. Nice odds, those. When you’re on the short end. I wasn’t kidding myself any. If the police found me there, I had a damn good chance of winding up in the death house. Okay. So they wouldn’t find me. If I had anything to say about it, . they’d have one hell of a time finding me. I slipped behind the wheel of the roadster and unlocked the ignition, Before I knew what was up, a guy slid into the seat beside me. I turned around, carefully, then relaxed. It was the nutty cameraman, “T saw you starting for your car,” he panted. “And thought maybe you'd give me a lift to the village. ’'m sup- posed to call the police.” I said: “Your boys are awful care- less with their gun practice, sonny. But don’t let that scare you.” I backed the ear out on the dirt road, swin,zing toward Larido, and the kid shouted at me over the roar of the motor. “It was terrible,” he said, his voice shaking. “Terrible. Did you ever see anything like it?” I got a mental picture of Ricconi, propped up in the back seat of my car, his lips twisted in that sickly grin. “T’ve seen ’em tough,” I told the kid. “Not exactly like that, but tough.” “Sure,” he said, “I guess maybe you have, being a reporter, But this girl. Who’d kill her? She was the best script girl we’ve had. Never slipped up, al- ways checked everything, to make sure there were no boners, Just a care- ful, hard-working kid. The best script girl in Hollywood. That clicked. Like that, it clicked. “T’ll be damned,” I said softly, “VU be damned.” I stopped the ear and turned to the kid, my eyes suddenly hard. ‘‘What the hell did you say she did ?”’ “Script girl,” he repeated. “You know, checking up on the actors, the scenery, that sort of thing. To make sure there’s no sudden change, To make sure nobody slips up from one day to the next.” I said: “Yeah, to make sure nobody slips up.” I slid out from behind tic wheel, pulling the kid under it, ““o ahead, sonny,” I told him. “Go ahead. Bring on your police force.” I cut across the rough ground, back toward the saloon. A heavy touring car pulled out, loaded with men, the bright sunlight glistening on their ri- fle barrels. The car swung. out onto the highway, following the kid in my roadster. I knew what that meant. Hedgewick had resigned from my team. And the heat was on, COMmMicloooks (C@