10-Story Detective, March 1941 — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

HOMICIDE LEGACY have aroused the interest of the Lynch hoods. “Please describe it,” Clark re- quested. “It is plain and flat,” the woman began. “It is two inches long and per- haps a quarter inch wide. It has four teeth, two large and two small. And— oh, yes. G-41 is stamped on it.” The lady evidently was the owner of the key. Still Clark was vaguely uncertain. People do not usually memorize every characteristic of such an ordinary instrument as a key. As the detective still hesitated, his visitor laughed. “IT see I have not misjudged you,” she said. “I realize that all the nice things the newspapers said about you the other day are true. You’re cautious, thorough, and an honest worker. I’m glad I entrusted the key into your keeping.” Clark said: “Fell me more.” His lips were tight. His doubts seemed without foundation—but there was the note written with bright-red lip- stick on brown wrapping paper. If she knew about the note— “One of the matrons had been bought by some sinister outside forces who are after the key. She searched me repeatedly and watched me like a hawk. I evaded her for a time, but I had no idea how Iong I’d be kept in jail. I was afraid that woman would find the key eventually. So when I saw my chance, I wrapped the key in a piece of brown paper and threw it out of my window—with a note to you, of course!” “And the note read?” The lady repeated the text word for word. Considering the intense mental distress of the woman at the time the note was written, Clark thought it would have been more convincing had his caller made a little mistake in the telling. Nevertheless he was forced to ad- mit the note might have been planned leng before the opportunity to write it presented itself. Thus it would have 101 allowed ample opportunity to memo- rize the content. “IT guess youre the owner, right,” he admitted. Without another word, his beauti- ful visitor drew a large roll of bills from her bag. She counted off several and handed them to the detective. A growing perplexity clouded his brow as he calculated the total. “A thousand dollars!’ he exclaimed. “That’s a lot of money for such a small service.” “It’s all right,” she assured him. “It was worth it to me.” It was too much, Clark thought. True, he had been given a painful beating, but that was not his client’s business. He racked his brain for a possible ulterior motive for the over- whelming generosity of his mysteri- ous client. Suddenly he remembered one last salient factor. | “In what medium was the note written,” he inquired evenly. “Pen, pencil, chalk?” Clark’s beautiful visitor did not falter. “It was written in red pencil,” she replied. She could remember every word of the note, yet she had forgotten the note was written in red lipstick. For- gotten? Not likely. She never knew. That was it; she never knew, never wrote the note. Clark saw how she had come by her information. She was in league with the Lynch toughs. The men had found the note in their seareh for the key, had decided on this strategy. They had copied the note word for word, noticing even that it was on a piece of ordinary brown paper. But, manlike, the lipstick was just plain red pencil to them. all LARK got up. He laid the money on the desk in front of his en- chanting visitor. Indirectly he had already conceded the fact he had the precious key. There would be no point in denying it now. He said flatly : comiicDoook CO