10-Story Detective, March 1941 — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

PHANTOM HIDEOUT———————_—_——9 was unarmed, his hands high above his head, and he was trembling with stark terror. “T—I didn’t kill him! I didn’t have nothin’ to do with it. I came in here this afternoon to board up them win- ders in the rear and—” “Who told you to?’ “Mr. Ridley hired me—the owner. Last thing he told me before he left yesterday on his boat for Miami was: ‘Tim I want you to board up the rest of them winders.’ It looked stormy this afternoon, so I figgered—” “What are you doing here at this hour of the night?” “I—I been doped, I think.” Tim quavered. He kept glancing back fear- fully over his shoulder toward the darkness of the dance hall. “I found a bottle o’ liquor in the pantry an’ I took a slug or two—an’ I musta gone out like a light. When I woke up, it was pitch-dark, so I come up to the fronti—the big room where they dance in summer. I switched on the hight and—” “Well?” “T seen him! Clem Daly, the watch- man. Dead on the floor.” He glanced queerly at Rita Daly and gulped. “His face all caved in, blood all over him.” Phelps stepped forward and the trembling carpenter clawed at his rubber sleeve with sudden terror. “Don’t go in,” he babbled. ‘“There’s a—a ghost in there. I heard it. It put out the light.” Phelps grunted and stuck the bar- rel of his gun in the shivering car- penter’s ribs. “Were the lights on when you first saw the body?” “T put ’em on. I looked down and seen it was Clem Daly with his head all smashed. And then, without no warnin’, the lights went out. For a second I was too seared to move; then I heard the—the ghost. It was up- stairs. It walked like a dead man— clump, clump, clump. I heard it come straight to the top of the stairs and start to come down.” “T ran out to the front porch here and got the door open—an’ then I seen you comin’ with the lantern, I was afraid to show myself for fear you might think I was the one who killed Clem Daly. But I didn’t, Dave, I swear I didn’t!” Phelps brushed past the cowering man, threw his lantern light into the bare interior of the deserted dance floor. His hand jerked to the wall and he threw the light switch. Instantly the lights came on. “T thought you said you didn’t turn "em off?’ Phelps snapped. “I didn’t.” Tim peered at him, white-faced. “I never touched the lights.” “Where’s the body ?”’ “Over there at the foot of the stairs.” His pointing finger wavered and dropped. “It’s—it’s gone! The body’s gone.” Phelps eyed him with cold gus- picion. “You’re either drunk or lying. Bodies don’t get up and walk and turn out lights. There was no corpse here.” “He’s not lying, Dave,” Rita said in a thin whisper. “I saw my brother at the foot of the stairs. He was dead and—” Her voice broke with horror. Phelps’ hand closed tightly on hers for an instant. There were a couple of dusty folding chairs near one of the boarded windows, and he forced Rita gently downward on one of them. She stared at him dully, like a tragic sleepwalker. HE coast guardsman strode across the dance floor to where Tim had pointed. He bent over the bare boards and his breath sucked sharply in his throat. There was a darkly irregular spot on the floor where someone had very recently made a hasty effort to wipe up some- thing. In the dust the circular marks of a rag were clearly visible. There was a tiny blood smear a foot or so away. Beyond it was an- other—and another. Spaced a foot or so apart, the telltale smears showed the path a man’s bloody shoe had taken. | = EOPNIE MOO KS (EO)