10-Story Detective, September 1941 — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

FRAMED FOR A FUNERAL——_————————-3] pect—and a lot more violently. Pll do it because I believe in you, Tom. But we won’t hide the body. We’ll have to get it out of the building and dump it somewhere where the cops can find it. I’m not hiding evidence of murder. But there’s one thing first.” ““What’s that?” He eyed me suspi- ciously. I looked at Carla. ““You’ve got to check out of here. Catch the first train back to Los Angeles. For the next few days you’re deaf and dumb. You’re not to see Tom until this thing blows over. Is that straight?” “No,” she said. “It is not.” I put my hands on my hips. ““Now what?” “Just this. Tom is in trouble. Some- body’s trying to frame him for mur- der. He’s innocent and I know it. Be- sides that he’s my husband. I’m not going to desert him when he’s in trouble. I’m sticking. I want to help.” CONSIDERED the defiant. thrust of her chin, the resolute glint in those blue eyes, and I knew it would be useless to argue. What can you do with a girl in love—especially when she’s a thoroughbred? “All right,” I sighed. ‘‘Nobody lis- tens to me. The least you can do is make yourself scarce while we unload the corpse. Go to one of the gambling joints. Act casual.” I strode to the door, opened it a crack to swing a look up and down the hall, then slapped it shut, fast. There was a parade just leaving the elevator, heading our way down the hall. I didn’t know whether their actual destination was Tom Grove’s room, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Slamming the door, twisting the key, I raced through to the connecting room and turned the latch on Tom’s door. “Police,” I grunted when I faced them again. “Tom, go into your room, lock the connecting door. You just got in there, you found the room the way you left tt, you don’t know anything about any bodies. And good Lord, man, get some color into your face. You look half dead yourself.” I got the flat of my hand against his back and sent him moving. I locked our side of the door, shot a quick look around the room and spied the big wardrobe trunk. Swinging it open, I got the corpse under the arms, yanked him across the floor and stuffed him inside the trunk. Then I asked Carla for the key and locked it. At that moment we heard the pounding on Tom’s door. Carla was watching me with bright eyes, her lips slightly parted. I stepped in front of her and put both hands on her shoulders. “Listen, Miss Parkhurst. Get out— now. Go to the movies, any place. I don’t know what their game is, but if they knew there was a body in Tom’s room, they’ll easily guess that it might have been lugged in here.” She let out a sharp gasp. Following her gaze I saw she was staring at the dark brown bloodstain on the floor. My head started to hum. I certainly wasn’t working on all cylinders if I’d neglected a thing like that. I dove for a small scatter rug under a table in the corner, whipped it out and spread it over the bloodstain. There were dull voices coming from Tom’s room as I ushered Carla out into the hall and mutely pointed to the fire exit. ‘Down there,” I whispered. ‘“‘Where are you going?” “T’ve got work to do.” After she’d disappeared, I saun- tered casually down the hall and rapped on Tom Grove’s door. A cop came out into the hall and closed the door behind him. “‘What is it, buddy?” he wanted to know. I let my eyes open in surprise, looked him up and down, reached over his shoulder and rapped on the door again. “Hey, none of that,’”’ he snapped and grabbed for my arm. I got hold of his wrist, levered his arm over my shoul- der, made a half twist, bent and pulled with all my might. Ccomicaoolk (©