10-Story Detective, September 1941 — page 37: what you’re looking at

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

FRAMED FOR A FUNERAL————————————35 examined it carefully. In the wall, around the beveled edge of the grating were faint scratches, and in several spots on the metal itself, gleamed black enamel where fingers had fum- bled away the layer of dust. I tested the grating, moved it slow- ly. It came free in my hand. I reached down into the vent, felt a piece of string dangling with a weight at the far end. The near end was attached inside the vent to the wall with a thumb tack. I pulled the string out. It was the payroll. I sat down on the edge of the tub and thought about it. I thought about it harder than I’d ever thought about anything in my life. It looked bad. Supposing Tom had been unable to resist the lure of fifteen thousand dol- lars. Maybe he’d figured that with his new position as the boss’ son-in-law they wouldn’t prosecute. Diehl could have seen him steal the money, slipped into the room, and tried to hijack it himself. What if Tom had caught him and sent a bullet through his head. And then it struck me and I could have kicked myself for not seeing it sooner. It wasn’t much, but it might be the single key to the whole solution. I walked back into Carla’s room. They were cutting through the mat- tress with razor blades. I said: “That’s enough of the sabo- tage. If you’re looking for the payroll here it is.” Several pairs of startled eyes fo- cused upon me. You could hear a pin drop, the room had grown so quiet. Kirk broke the silence with a trium- phant snort of satisfaction. “What did I tell you? I knew he’d stolen it.” “Where did you find it?’ demand- ed Rider. “Suspended from a string in the air vent.” Carla stared at Tom in horror- stricken astonishment. “Tom!” she whispered. “You didn’t—” “Yes,” I said. “Tom hid it there. Didn’t you, Tom?” He tried to say something but his larynx was locked tight. I felt sorry for him. And I want to say that I’m damn glad nobody tosses that kind of temptation my way. Fifteen thousand dollars is a whale of a lot of govern- ment lettuce and a man’s code of ethics can easily break under the weight of it. IDER moved close and dropped his hand on Tom’s_ shoulder. “That settles it,” he said. “I’m plac- ing you under arrest for murder, Grove. We'll let the robbery charge slide for a while.” “Not so fast,” I broke in. “All I said was that Tom hid the money in the vent. He didn’t steal it, nor did he kill Diehl. He found that money in his g¥ip where Diehl had placed it.” “Diehl!” Rider exclaimed. “Yes,” I said. “At the behest of Kirk. Perhaps Kirk had something on Diehl and made him do it.” Kirk laughed. “You’re crazy.” “I doubt it. What gave you away, Kirk, was the fact that when you were supposed to have discovered the rob- bery you didn’t immediately wire the Las Vegas police. You knew where Grove was heading. Yet they didn’t pick him up at the station. They didn’t even arrive at the hotel until you’d had a chance to come here first. “You suspected Diehl was up to something. You didn’t trust him. You followed him here, found him trying to hijack the payroll. You sent a slug through his head. That was even bet- ter, much better. It put Grove out of the way for good.” Kirk’s face was bereft of any ex- pression whatsoever. His opal eyes ‘were two dull marbles set into his head. His voice was quiet, contained. His whole manner had the deadly coldness of a rattler poised to strike. “And what would my motive be?” “That’s easy,” I said. “Everybody knows that old man Parkhurst hasn’t been active in the business for a long time. As general manager everything was left under your control. You've COMIC OO® S (©