10-Story Detective, September 1941 — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

—_—_—__—_—_—_—_—_—_—_——-CRIMSON CURRENCY Chris. All right, get down to it. I’m listening.” “You know what happened at the Farmer’s Trust last week?” he asked. “Sure, somebody blew the vault open, but they didr’t get anything.” “Exactly. The money had _ been shipped that afternoon to the Federal Reserve Bank. You know what that means ?”’ “No,” I admitted. mean ?”’ “That Marty McCloud will be cast- ing around for a new bank to crack. Everybody knows that Thursday is payday at the packing plant. We have mote than ten thousand dollars on hand then. Is there anything more natural than that McCloud will be along ?” I gulped and let out a whistle. “Say, you’re right! Maybe we ought to get Mr. Crimmons to buy us a couple of guns.” He shook his head slowly. ‘No, Ed, that isn’t what I’m trying to get at.” He watched me obliquely, his eyes speculative, a little cagey. I knew then exactly what he was trying to get at and the funny thing is it didn’t sur- prise me. Working in close proximity with a guy for a couple of years you get to sense how he thinks, sort of. I walked to the door, opened it, glanced up and down the hall, closed it, then came back to him. “T think I see it, Chris. Your idea is to beat McCloud to the punch.” _A sigh of relief gusted out of him. He wet his lips with the edge of his tongue and nodded. “Something like that.” “Keep on talking. I’m still listen- ing.” He gat down again, cupped a flame to another cigarette, flipped the match to the floor. “Well,” he said, “if I can get a decent stake I’ll leave Midvale and you can have Ethel. What's more I’ll split the proceeds with you.” I was curious. “What gave you the idea, Chris?” “Why,” he announced complacently, “it’s. a natural. A chance like this “What does it 77 comes only once in a lifetime. Every- body is talking about Marty McCloud and when the money is stolen they’ll think he did it.” “Isn’t it dangerous?” I wanted to know. “The packing plant just hired two guards to accompany the pay- master.” He waved airily. “The money will be stolen before it ever reaches the pay- master.” “How ? 999 He settled back in his chair. “Lis- ten, Thursday is payday. That means the money is in the bank Wednesday night. And on Wednesday night my plan takes effect. The safe is blown up. | Only there won’t be any money in it.” This was all very confusing. I shook my head. “I don’t get it, Chris. Why blow up the safe if there isn’t any money in it?” “Because it will already be in our possession,” he stated placidly. “Let me explain. Instead of locking the money Wednesday afternoon in the safe, I’ll take it away with me. I'll drop it into the lining of my coat. I’ve got it cut up into sections so the mon- ey won’t all bulk up in one place. It will—” “Wait a minute,” I cut in. “How are we gonna make it look like Marty Mc- Cloud’s work ?” “That’s what I’m coming to. It’ll be easy. You have the keys. We’re the last ones out of the bank. We merely fix a time bomb clocked to explode about two a.m. We hide it beside the safe and it’ll blow the door off. When. the sheriff gets there the money will be missing. Everybody will say Marty McCloud took it.” He looked up at me. “How’s that, Ed?” COULDN’T help staring in open admiration. It was clever, all right. Almost too clever. The question was, where were we to get a time bomb? I put it to Chris. He smiled. “You remember I took a short trip some weeks ago,” he said. “Well, I got it then, from a friend of mine. We’re all set, Ed. I’d do it my-. COMIC OO® S C©