10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 86: what you’re looking at

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

84 and Dave heaved a great sigh of re- lief. The hands on the clock over the mantel lagged ever slower. Yet Dave knew that he must talk on and on, telling endless stories to that grinning dolt, anything to kill time until old Eli should phone. Heavens! It seemed that he had been talking for hours now! New York—the bizarre life of Village studios—Washington Square —Paris—the Montmartre—the Latin Quarter— T WAS nearly three-thirty when the phone finally rang. Jed called Dave to the phone. It was old Eli. “Mr. Aaron’s dead!” came the shaking, excited voice of the old serv- ant, “Come home quick, Mr. Dave. I ealled everywhere before I finally found you. The sheriff’s here. I told Mr. Aaron he’d fall down that old well and kill himself some day. I told him! You’re coming home right away, ain’t you, Mr. Dave?” “T’ll be right over,” Dave snapped, eutting short the old man’s garrulous rambling. ““Aaron’s dead,” he explained brief- ly to Jed. “Fell down that old well, I guess. Want to go back to the house with me?” Jed was eager to go, as Dave knew that he would be. On the short drive Dave made no eftort to conceal his. satisfaction over the news of Aaron’s death. He had decided upon that atti- tude long ago. Everyone knew that he hated Aaron. If he were to turn hypocrite now and simulate grief over Aaron’s death, that in itself would excite sus- picion. His best attitude was-a per- fectly natural one of frank relief that his stepbrother was finally out of the way. Dave kept that attitude even after they had joined the little group of men gathered about the well. His spoken references to the dead man lying down there inert and broken at the bottom of the pit were as bitter as they had been during Aaron’s life. 10-STORY DETECTIVE The sheriff, a fussy little man with cheeks as rosy and smooth as prize apples, gave a brief word of explana- tion. “We had to send back to the village for a longer rope. We’re wait- in’ on it now ’fore we can bring him up.” He beckoned Dave off to one side of the little group. “Old Eli tells me your brother was in the habit of wheelin’ hisself down here on sunny days,” the sheriff com- mented. Dave could read the frank hostility in the other’s frosty blue eyes. ‘““Mebbe so. There wasn’t any footprints between the well and the house except Eli’s when we got here, Mebbe your brother did fall out of that chair all by hisself like Eli’s al- ways been afraid he would. But what I want to know is—where were you this afternoon, Dave?’ “Over at Jed Turner’s,” answered Dave promptly. “All afternoon?” “From about one-thirty on. Jed picked me up on his way past the house.” “Where was your brother when you left the house here?” “Sitting in his chair out on the front porch in the sun.” The sheriff called Jed Turner over to them. Jed promptly substantiated Dave’s story. “Aaron was alive when I drove by,” he said, “because he waved to me and wanted to know what time it was. 1 told him. It was jest one-thutty. Then when I drove on around the bend there was Dave on the side porch. “He yelled at me and I stopped for him. Then he went on over to my place and we’ve been there ever since. But Ill swear that Aaron was alive out there in his chair on the front porch not over a minute or so before Dave left the house.” The sheriff scowled thoughtfully for a minute, then Dave saw the hos- tility fade from his eyes. “Well, I guess that about clears you then, Dave,” he admitted a little grudging- COMMICLOOOKS (C@