10-Story Detective, March 1941 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

56-——________—_——_-__—_10-STORY DETECTIVE “IT know,” I said. “You win.” Audrey McHale’s coat was tight across my shoulders and the hat I selected came down over my ears. But the coat had a fur collar and the hat a wide floppy brim and a ribbon tie. I’d pass, even if I did feel foolish in the getup. Her blue roadster would help. Park and Russell was way out on the east side in a thinly populated sec- tion. There were subdivisions, bare of homes, and real estate signs and white corner markers and field office shacks standing lonesome here and there, but little else. A few one- and two-story buildings clustered at the intersection of Park and Russell. A sign on a two-story building a short distance from the corner read: HONEYSUCKLE HILLS Lots, Homes, Choice Business Plots EASY PAYMENTS When I spotted the sign, I knew my guess about the voice was solid. A small, thin guy wearing a black- and-gray checked cap stood before a sleepy joint that looked like a combi- nation pool room, delicatessen and beer stube. It was not open. His face was pinched, his nostrils hairy. He stepped quickly to the curb when I pulled up. - Keeping my head down, I fumbled at the sack, stalling until I saw a car coming. I had an idea. “Come on, floosie,”’ the mug said in nervously hoarse tones. “Gimme!” I pretended to drop the bag, caught it clumsily. The auto drew nearer. I placed the bag in the man’s out- stretched hand. He snatched it, dart- ed toward an opening between build- ings. V UNNING the motor, I swung out and backed into Russell, like I was turning to go back the way I had come. As the auto passed on Park, I clashed my gears, then let the engine roar with the clutch pedal down. I shut off the ignition quickly, hoping the gag would hold for a while any- how. If they didn’t look too closely, the passing car might be taken for the roadster. Checked-cap was being let in the rear door of the real estate building, when I reached the alley behind the pool hall. The door closed behind him. I hurried to it, tried the knob cau- tiously, but the door was bolted. I looked up at the building, saw no pos- sible way of entering. Shedding the girl’s coat and hat, I stepped around to the side. Almost in- ° stantly, I heard the bolt pulled inside, and pressed against the wall. Someone came out and the door shut. I peeped around mi’ corner. It was one of the men who had tried to snatch Audrey McHale. I recog- nized him by his walk. He was follow- ing a faint path across lots. The path apparently ended at one of the field office shacks a block or two away. Then, before I could make up my mind to follow him or _ remain crouched against the wall, somebody inside began bellowing. The door burst open and the mob poured out into the alley. I wasn’t surprised to see Nick Canalli in the lead. His voice was the one I had recognized. “Hey, China,” Canalli yelled. ““Come back. Bobo says the dame didn’t drive off. She’s still around somewhere.” Canalli cursed until the man re- turned, then barked: “Two of you find her car and cover it. The rest spread out and find her. She can’t be far away!” He began cursing again. I heard the hoodlums starting their search, kept my head away from the corner and tried to push the brick wall over. But it wasn’t my day. A broad mug with green eyes and no forehead popped around the build- ing, running smack into me. I socked him with all I had and stepped on his stomach as I went over him, sprint- ing for open fields. That didn’t pan out, either. There were five of them, counting Canalli COmicloolk CO