10-Story Detective, March 1941 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

PASS-KEY TO THE MORGUE——_—___—_—_—__27 they horned us in the Matear affair. We made ten grand out of that deal. Easy. I thought it—” Kane snapped: “They didn’t have the guts to pull the job by themselves. I told you they were heels.” “Yeah!” said Lawler. “Some day one of those guys’ll get fed up with your guff and—” “‘Aw, forget it.” The wind was whistling noisily when they pushed through the re- volving door of the club into the street. Their overcoats flapped about their legs. They held their hats as they breasted the wind to the taxi stand at the nearest street intersection. HERE was only one cab drawn up at the curb. A big eight-cylin- der car. The driver, a mild-eyed little man with practically no chin, was hunched in back of the windshield, evidently trying to keep warm. There was a stubble of pink beard on his thin, chinless face. The patent-leather visor of his cap was broken. Kane leaned over the seat, shook the little driver erect. He said: “Lake Trantine, Bunny.” The driver’s mouth droppen open, his eyes popped. “That’s seventy-five —eighty miles,” he gasped. Kane pushed Lawler into the back of the car. He said to the driver: “You can make it in three hours, Bunny. If you’re fast.” The driver slumped back into the seat, stalling for time. Evidently he did not like the looks of his prospec- tive fares or the prospect of the trip. “But I can’t leave my stand that long,” he yammered. “This is an Independent, ain’t it?’ snapped Kane, “ven” “Okay,” said Kane. “Get going. Out Sunshine Boulevard north; then cut over into the Granitetown Highway. ‘Get it, Bunny!’ The little driver started to remon- strate further. But something in Kane’s reddish black eyes and the movement of Kane’s hand in his right coat pocket made the man reconsider. He said, very reluctantly: “Get in. And my name ain’t Bunny. It’s Craw- ford.” Kane stepped into the car, and the door slammed behind him. “I like Bunny much better,” he shouted. The driver whirled the motor, pulled the gear lever and the car melt- ed into eastbound traffic. Two blocks up he turned left and headed due north for the highway. Kane, a light- ed cigarette in his hand, leaned back against the cushion. Lawler massaged his plump chin with nervous fingers. Kane said: “Everything set?’ Lawler pulled a flashlight from his pocket, thumbed the button several times. “It’s okay. We'll be needing this later. Got one?” ““No. What the hell do I need one for?” said Kane. ‘‘Have you got the layout?” Lawler touched his forehead with a plump forefinger. “Right here,” he grinned. “The safe’s on the second floor, in Mrs. Sanford’s bedroom. That’s in the right wing, above the living room and an enclosed porch. There’s a dressing alcove at the ex- treme end of the room. The safe’s in there.” “Good,” said Kane. He threw the butt of his cigarette on the floor, took the last one from his pack, lighted it. It was snowing when they reached Granitetown. Big dry flakes beat against the car’s windshield. Kane pointed to a drugstore and Crawford pulled up at the curb in front of it. Kane got out, bought cigarettes. Two minutes later he was back in the ear. Crawford swung the big machine onto the mountain highway to Beav- ers, The road wound steadily upward along the rim of tremendous rock- filled canyons. Boulders and trees were covered with thick snow. Snew plows crawled up and down the mountain road, clearing it for traffic. At Beavers, they struck the lake GOmIiGcdooks (C@