10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

= and the full mouth that was soft and = inviting. “How long have you known see me?” I asked her. SS “Well, I came up on Friday. You were already here. We met at dinner. It’s Saturday night now. I’ve known you just a little over twenty-four hours.” “Do you like me?” “Yes, Sam.” “Then I guess it’s all right.” LEANED over and kissed her. For a brief moment she started to melt and then she jerked away. I stared at her. She put out a hand and touched my shoulder sling. She stared at me. “That’s a gun, isn’t it, sam?” “Ves, ” “You—you’re not a racketeer—” “No.” “Then—why do—” “T carry a gun? Pll confess, Winnie. I’m a sleuth.” Her blue eyes opened as wide as two silver dollars. “You’re kidding, Sam.” “Not at all.” “Are you out here on a job?” I told her I was. “Tow interesting. What is it?” “That,” I said, “is a confidential <8 matter not to be discussed between Set myself and disinterested third pcr- ties. Besides, it’s all wrapped up. The ee ease is closed, so far as I’m concerned, Ee —anyway. From here on in I’m on my 3 own. I have nothing to do until Mon- 2a day morning except amuse you.” ae “You mean that, Sam?” = “Cross my heart.” She held out her hand. “Then let me see the gun. I’ve al- ; ways wanted to hold one, get the feel ma of it. They’re such deadly fascinating things.” 2 I took the Colt out of my shoulder 3 sling, removed the clip and jacked out Be the chambered shells. I dropped the = shells into my pocket and handed her es the gun. She squealed like a kid with Fe eS el hig Raeris -—s- Moon, Heyy ‘ PT AY ban is . Me iY iach ‘ ; ‘the ia - vat | ‘42h ), 9% \ Ne rt e ; , Vimy ’ pe Pi NOM A UY ee Ba AL a rE Abs ‘eke | i i Ad SWAY oP. Bimih t ‘ot Wel er uty. out Winnie’s small, heart-shaped face “Can I fire it?” she asked. - ae I grinned. “Sure. Go ahead.” She pointed the Corpse Maker in — the general direction of Mars and squeezed the trigger. An explosion split the night. I swear | turned green as a grape. Not five seconds back I had emptied that gun. Winnie dropped it like a hot coin. We stared at each other. It struck me almost immediately that the shot had come from the house, I grabbed up the Corpse Maker and sprinted toward the side patio. I burst through an open French win- dow with Winnie hanging onto my coat tail. We stood in the big central hall- way. A butler was standing there, pop- eyed, staring at us. He looked like a statue in Madame Taussaud’s wax museum. None of us spoke. Not a rip- ple of sound stirred in the entire household. It was enough to give you the meemies. _ And then, suddenly, the silence was punctuated by a scream that bellowed through the place and filled it from wall to wall. The high-pitched, blood- chilling scream of a terrified woman. I took the stairs three at a time, los- ing Winnie halfway up. At the landing Clayton Speer, ITI, and Duke Glynn were racing down the corridor toward an open door. I got there a second af- ter them. IANE was backed up against the wall, biting her wrist and whim- pering like a scared kitten. Her eyes were like twin jade marbles, wide and | shining. It was a bedroom and on the bed was a man, Roger Holloway was through with his legal career. Good and through. The bullet had caught him in a disgusting spot, right through the right temple, and it had spilled his brains around so that his ordinarily ugly face looked even ugli- er. His lips had crawled back over his false teeth, exposing pale gums. His glazed eyes were bulging and hanging up toward a cut glass chandelier. One ——