10-Story Detective, November 1942 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

20—______——_—_———10-STORY DETECTIVE start over again and take Jakie. But there was no point to it—-yet. “‘Co-operate then,” Ashes _ said. ‘“‘What was in that envelope you gave Katie Boyle two weeks ago?” Jakie’s liquid black eyes were im- penetrable. “I suggest you ask Mr. Tony Ross.” “l’m asking you,” Ashes growled. “Do you know a stocky, pink-cheeked German spy? Did one like that ever come to see Rosie?” “His name is Carl Blimmer,” Jakie sald. Ashes snapped, “His name was Carl Blimmer.” Jakie murmured, “Life is so uncer- tain.”’ “Especially in your racket,” Ash added quickly. ; “You couldn’t prove I am anything but a servant,” Jakie said coolly. “Chum, I don’t need proof. You were working for Rosie because he was a newspaperman with pipe lines all over the country. You figured you might tap some of his sources of in- formation. Look, we’ll let that go. Whether you know it or not, certain cops have you spotted. You’re not getting away with anything. I don’t have to worry about that angle un- less—” Ashes hauled his automatic from his armpit, hefted it. “Unless,” he finished, “I’d have to shoot you while you were ‘escaping.’ ” AKIE’S moist eyes rolled. He swal- lowed and said quietly, “The en- velope contained a sheaf of evidence in a murder and abduction case which happened over twenty years ago.” Ashes leaned forward. “Any dates and locations? Names?” “The name of the town was Mars- ville, somewhere in New England,” Jakie said woodenly. “‘As I understand the story, one Joseph Cameron shot and killed a George Fellows in an al- tercation concerning Cameron’s at- tentions to Mrs. Rose Fellows. Cam- eron was indicted for murder. In the meantime, Mrs. Fellows gave birth to a baby girl, and died. One night Jo- seph Cameron escaped and abducted the baby. That, I swear, is everything I know.” Ashes said levelly, “Nuts, Jakie. You’re giving me just enough, trying to make me believe you’re on the level. Okay, for now. But keep your pants rolled, you grinning little Mikado,” he added. ... Henry Esterly was a somewhat run- down dynamo when Ashes cruised into the office at the News Building. Esterly’s voice was still staccato, ges- tures quick, bright eyes probing. But the old zip wasn’t there. “Why don’t you report to your of- fice?’ Esterly lashed at Ashes. “There’ve been G-men in and out of here all afternoon and night.” Ashes waved it aside. “What do you know about a murder and a snatch that happened twenty-odd years ago in a town called Marsville?”’ Esterly swabbed his glistening bald spot. ‘Good Lord, man! I’m interested in news! News is stuff that hasn’t hap- pened yet, not something twenty years old. What—” “‘Where’s Tony Ross?” Ashes cut in. Esterly looked disgusted. ‘‘You’re a walking quiz program. Do you think if I knew where Ross is, I wouldn’t be on his neck?” “What orders has Marin Moerly given you?” “Are you asking me or telling me?” Esterly snapped. ‘She told you first. No more pro-Nazi junk. No more. You want a drink, son? I’m living on Scotch.” “You look it,” Ashes said. Then the break came. The phone rang. Esterly scooped it up, said, ‘“Hunh?”’ twice and then erupted, his temper getting the best of him. “Yes, he’s here. Where are you? Where have you been? You damned idiot, there’s a wanted out for you!” That was all Ashes needed. He grabbed the phone away from Ester- cComiclbool C©