10-Story Detective, March 1941 — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

78 “Sure as hell. Ed Garvey is pretty well known in New York.” Sweeny pulled himself loose from Kendall and backed away a step, nervousness on his flat face. ‘“He’s the kind who’d blast down his own grandmother if she crossed him, so you see the spot I’m in.” ‘“‘Garvey’s the one who’s in the heat, you mean.” Relief lighted Sweeny’s eyes. “‘You gonna have cops at my shack?” “No.”’ ‘‘What then?” Sweeny asked. Kendall couldn’t believe that Gar- vey was alive, though that was what he had been trying to prove. Together with the fact that Sweeny had singled him out of all people, he detected a pe- culiar smell to the business. It struck him that somebody, aside from the police, was trying to keep him out of the Sylvester Fox murder investiga- tion. “TI think I better take your place to- night,” he said at last. “Don’t be a fool,” scoffed Sweeny. “You’d give yourself away before you even lifted a tool.” “It’s the only stunt that might work,” Kendall told him. “The cops wouldn’t believe you if you told them what you told me. You don’t seem to know that Ed Garvey’s supposed to be a dead pigeon.” Sweeny stared, bewildered. “How in the devil then—”’ “Never mind about that. You spoke ot some stuff he wanted out of that safe. Did he say exactly what it was?” “No, he didn’t.” Sweeny bit at his lip nervously. ““How can you work it that you go instead of me? He’ll be bound to catch on.” “What time is he coming to pick you up?” “Around ten.” “Good. Ill be there a half-hour earlier.” “TI don’t like this. It’s like we’re both sticking our necks out. I don’t hanker to be bed-partners with you on a slab in the morgue.” 10-STORY DETECTIVE 66 ON’T worry, Sweeny,” Kendall said grimly. ‘Leave this to me and I'll see that that doesn’t hap- pen.” . The first thing he did after leaving Pete’s Place was to put a long distance telephone call through to the New York police. It felt good learning that Sweeny actually was a safe-cracker— that he had lately gotten out of stir and had vowed to go on the straight. Yet, at the same time, Kendall knew how rarely ex-convicts kept their promises. Satisfaction glowed in his heart, however. He had stirred up a reaction by his unwanted snooping, and it proved to him that Worthley wasn’t guilty of murder. Trap or no trap, he was sticking his head smack into this business, regardless of what the commissioner had said. Kendall left his gun and badge at home and only took jacket precau- tions when he went out that night. He was fully aware of how much lay at stake. If things went wrong, not only would he fail to save his likable room- mate from the chair, but he himself would probably be found in that gut- ter Sweeny had mentioned. The nine-hundred block of Fourth Street was in a disreputable section of town. On one side stood hulking loft buildings, looking like bleak, forbid- ding monsters in the foggy night. Across from them, sprawled a light- less lumber yard. And searching the darkness, Kendall found Sweeny’s shack not far beyond the yard. Set back from the street, it had obviously been a part of the lumber yard at one time. Sweeny opened the door a crack when Kendall] knocked. Seeing it was the detective, he let him in. He moved to bolt the door again, but Kendall said crisply: “Leave it unlocked, Sweeny.” Sweeny stared at Kendall, the moist white of his distended eyes gleaming eerily in the lamplight. It made Ken- dall suddenly realize that Sweeny was COmiCclooolk CO