10-Story Detective, November 1942 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

18——_—_—__———————_10-STORY DETECTIVE and with me. Jakie knew where Rosie kept the key to his safety deposit box. Jakie used to take papers from the box, give them to me when I had dates with Rosie, and then I’d give them to Tony. “It worked fine, because when I'd have a date with Rosie, I’d go up to his apartment early, get the papers from Jakie, hand them over to Tony sometime during the evening. Tony would duck out and read them, then give them back to me. When Rosie took me home, we’d stop in his apart- ment for a drink, and I’d give the pa- pers back to Jakie. In that way, Tony managed to read almost everything in Rosie’s safety deposit box.” ‘What a woman,” Ashes marveled. “And something like this happened two weeks ago at the Sport Club?” Katie nodded jerkily. “That night I got an envelope from Jakie. I gave it to Tony at the Sport Club. Tony made a phone call, then went out. When he returned to’ the Sport Club, he told Rosie that M.M. wanted to see him. Then Tony told me that this time I wouldn’t have to return the envelope to Jakie, that M.M. was keeping this one. The jig was up.” “Did you know what was in the envelope?’’ Ashes demanded. “Honest, Ashes, I’ve told you all I know. I’ll bet even Tony didn’t know.” “The hell he didn’t,” Ashes snapped. “Just wait—”’ He broke off. High heels were tapping in the corridor. Marin Moerly came in, green eyes flashing to Ashes. She held out a key wordlessly. SHES strode into M.M. Macol- lum’s private office, Marin fol- lowing. He bent to the strong drawer, swore softly. The last time he’d stud- jed that drawer, he had wedged a piece of match stem in the lock. There was no match there now. It meant that the drawer had been opened. Ashes didn’t even bother opening it now. He faced Marin Moerly. “Okay,” he said. “You had a key. It’s not likely anyone else had. What did you take out of this drawer?” She was going to try to brazen it out. Then she paled at the sight of Ashes’ face. He was iron now. “Tony said there might be evidence there,”’ she whispered. “I let him look. He didn’t—find anything.” “Do you know there’s an order out for Tony’s arrest?’ Ashes poured at her. “Oh! But Tony was working for Uncle Mike—”’ “I know that part,” said Ashes. “Look, kiddo, don’t play dumb. You own the News now, don’t you? What are you going to do about the propa- ganda policy?” “Why, I’m going to stop it,” Marin said quickly. “I didn’t know what was going on until Tony told me today. He had to tell me in order to explain who you are and why you were interested in Uncle Mike. Certainly, I’m going ‘to stop it. No one has a hold on me. You don’t think I’d deliberately con- tinue—” “Baby, with red hair and green eyes, I don’t know what you’d delib- erately do.” Ashes brushed past her. . .: Ashes hadn’t realized how fast the time flew. By the time he had a sand- wich, the blonde receptionist would be ready for their date. And Ashes was looking forward to this. He figured it would be something. It was. It wasn’t what he’d expected, but it certainly was something. The blonde lived in a walk-up in Brooklyn. Ashes walked up. There was a radio playing, but no one answered the door. Ashes turned the knob. The door opened. He walked in and sprawled on a chair. The blonde was probably dressing. But she wasn’t. Ashes decided that ten minutes later after he’d listened intently without hearing a sound from inside. He had a sort of sickish feel- ing when he prowled into the bed- room. He hoped he was guessing wrong, but he wasn’t. The blonde had been shot through CoOmmiclbooks C@