10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

96——_—————-10-STORY DETECTIVE “Wo Eddie,” he said softly. Almost imperceptibly the boy’s hand jerked toward the drawer in which he had placed his gun. He col- lected himself, however, and smiled. “Hi, sergeant. Come in and grab a chair.” The detective entered and closed the door. “Nice room you got here, Eddie,” he said, settling himself upon the bed. “Plenty o’ light an’ fresh air.” “T like it fine.”” The boy sank into a chair near the table, facing his visi- tor. “Get work yet, Eddie?” “No. Everywhere I go they tell me business is bad. No I haven’t got any- thing yet.” “Tt ain’t healthful,” said the ser- geant slowly, “for a young fella to be in the city alone an’ out o’ work. He gets to thinkin’.” The sergeant’s eyes spotted the headlines on the paper under his foot. “Pretty slick robbery yesterday afternoon, wasn’t it?” “T—I just read the headlines.” “Fifteen thousand dollars, bandit—real big city stuff.” “Vas abs “Makin’ plenty o’ fuss about it, too. Mr. Gubler, head o’ Acme, is on the town council. Got the whole force out lookin’ for this guy.” Eddie’s throat grew tight. “Do—do you think they’ll catch him?” he asked. “T don’t hardly know, kid. They’s some powerful dumb cops on the force. The chief had to call me in last night. Ordinarily I do fingerprints.” Sergeant O’Toole produced a thick cigar from a vest pocket. “Got a light kid? .... Better let me hold it. You’re kind o’ nervous this mornin’. Late hours does that. Thanks. “Chief called me in last night, give me all the dope as he had got it from the Acme cashier an’ says, ‘Look here, Jim, we got to get that bandit! The whole dam’ council’s on my neck. Go out an’ see what you can find.’ ” lone “Well, I figured out a plan or two, but you know how they are. Some- times work, sometimes don’t. I just happened to be passin’ se I thought I’'d drop in an’ see how you was get- tin’ along.” The sergeant rose. “Mighty nice of you to drop around,” Eddie said, the tension in him beginning to lessen. “Well, I always take a sort o’ per- sonal interest in my neighbors. I usually like to know a lot about ’em.” The detective walked toward the door. He halted in front of Eddie, looked for a moment at the bundles, then back at Eddie. “Goin’ to mail it to yourself some- where, eh kid?” “What?” “Slick. I never would of figured a little country kid like you could pull a big time robbery like this. It’s the movies, I guess.” “What do you mean?” “Come now, Eddie. You wouldn’t pull that innocent line on old Sergeant Jim, would you? You let that Acme cashier see that scar on your wrist yesterday an’ I knew only one man in this whole town who had one like it. Besides, I seen you make a move for your gun a while ago. Cut it out, kid. Come across.” DDIE FOSTER went suddenly limp. Caught. For a moment he felt a childish tendency to tears. He overcame that and looked up at the serious face of Sergeant O’Toole. “Yes,” he said, “I did it.” The sergeant wiped the end of his nose with a green silk handkerchief and remarked in a very steady voice, “What I don’t see, kid, is how you got them bills rolled so round. No- body would ever think them bundles contained money.” “T used cotton. I padded ’em with cotton,”’ Eddie told him levelly. “You got talent, Eddie. It’s too bad you misuse it. I bet you made good grades in school.” “Valedictorian. Four year average CORMICLOOKS (C@