10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 77: what you’re looking at

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

THE LAUGHING WIDOW arm hung over the side of the bed, chubby, well-manicured fingernails just missing the beige carpet. An inch or so from the fingertips lay a gun. Not much of a gun, at jeast not in size. One of those Banker’s Spe- cials with a short barrel. Diane screamed again. She kept on screaming. I smacked her across the cheek. That did it nicely. She shapped her mouth shut, stared at me through shining, brittle eyes, then closed her eyelids very slowly, shuddered a few times and swayed gently to the flocr. I caught her before she hit it. Before we could revive her Win- nie had come into the room, caught a glimpse of the corpse, moaned and passed out. I had the butler carry her to her room. When we had Diane sit- ting up I went to work. “Were you here with him when it happened ?” She shook her head. “No.” “Tell me about it.” “T heard the shot. My room is next door. I came in here and saw him and screamed.” “Did you come right in?” “No. The shot stunned me for a few moments.” I looked at Speer. “Why did you wait so long before investigating ?” | “Frarkly, I didn’t want to get - mixed up in anything. I rather hoped it was Glynn who’d been the target. But when [ heard Diane scream—” I fixed him with a sharp look. “One woman’s scream is not so dif- ferent from another’s. How did you know it was Diane? It might have been Winnie, or one of the maids.” He sucked in his bottom lip. “I pre- sumed it was Diane. I wasn’t certain.” I turned to Duke Glynn. “And you? What took you so long to get here after the shot?” He stared at me blankly. “Are you competent to handle this thing, Cri- qui? Don’t you think you ought to call the police?” . Cra ae , ‘\ ( 1% “Sure,” I said, “I’ll call them. I just wanted to get some evidence while it was still hot.” LYNN hunched his tailored shoul- ders in a beautifully studied ges- ture. “What kind of evidence? The man committed suicide, that’s plain enough.” | “No,” I said. “He was murdered.” Duke’s mouth flapped open and he gulped audibly. “Murdered! You’re crazy. He shot himself. Anybody can see that.” “Anybody, yes,” I agreed. “But not a man whose business it is to observe things. Look here. Holloway was shot through the right temple. But Hollo- way is left-handed. I noticed that while he was eating today. A very awkward way for a guy to bump him- self. It’s never happened before.” “Then somebody just tried to make it look like suicide?” “Precisely.” “But why?” Duke Glynn asked, turning out his palms. “So there wouldn’t be an investi- gation. That’s simple enough. If mur- der was clearly indicated the police would look for a motive, and the mur- derer wanted to keep his motive sup- pressed.” “That settles it.”” Duke’s mouth was drawn back at the corners. “Holloway was my friend. I didn’t know when [f asked him up here that I was inviting him to his death. Pll call the local sheriff.” He turned on his heel and left. I looked at Speer. “Did you know Holloway before this week-end?” He moistened his lips nervously. “No, I never saw him before in my life.” “And you?” I glanced at Diane. She shook her head too quickly. Her face was white under the overcast of cosmetics. She didn’t say anything. I wondered if it was because she didn’t trust herself. , Duke Glynn returned a moment later. |