10-Story Detective, November 1942 — page 38: what you’re looking at

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

36 ——_______—_———10-STORY DETECTIVE ly suspects in Gus, LaVerne, and Fiero? I tried to remember if any or all of them had been at the cookhouse yet when that ride had gone into action and Eva had screamed. But so many people had been around the cookhouse that I couldn’t remember. All I knew for sure was that Eva had been able to get as far as the thrill-ride. If any one or all three of the others had left at about the same time, they, too—or he, or she—could have been at the thrill-ride. I looked around and I saw Gus and LaVerne, but I didn’t see Fiero. Since I had no authority to say or do anything at all I just stood there waiting to see what was going to hap- pen next, The show manager forced his way through the crowd yelling orders. “Get back!” he shouted. “Let us get through here!” The manager was a big man, dressed in plenty of flash. He had pink-bar- bered cheeks and his eyes were the lightest, coldest blue I had ever seen. His name was Stetter, and something about his whole pink, fleshy appear-. anee reminded me of a baby porker. ‘Well, Hopping,” he said, and his hand fell heavily on the ride foreman’s shoulder, “what did I tell you? That ride is a failure, the way you’ve built it—a death trap!’’ Hopping flinched a little but he did- n’t cringe. He looked up at the ride. Obviously I can’t give you all the de- tails, but the Dipperoo was Hopping’s own baby. Experience as a ride fore- man during summer vacations plus an engineering degree from college had given Hopping the skill to invent and build the Dipperoo. The thrill device itself was a one- car ride. It was simple and sound and unquestionably a potential money- maker. The single car of the ride trav- eled down a narrow trestle, looped-the- loop on a continuation of this trestle and ended against a recoil spring which flung the car back through a trap and left it on an elevator ready to be raised back into position for the next trip. I had been around carnivals most of my life and had never seen anything like it. As the crowd milled closer, Stetter, the manager, turned and pushed those nearest him. A thin, dapper man with him had been at the cookhouse earlier tonight while I was eating supper. “Get back,” Stetter said. ‘Let the police officer here take charge!”’ Sophie LaVerne, the fan dancer, ignored his plea. She had been wear- ing a summery, light-colored coat, and now she thrust this at Stetter. “Cover the poor thing up,” she said. She was sobbing, and it seemed to me that everything she said and did was part of an act. I remembered how she had pinched Eva, only a few minutes before, and made her scream. But now, under these circum- stances, it was easy to be suspicious of everyone. I looked with interest at the man who had accompanied Stetter on that jostling journey through the crowd. He was thin and dapper and he didn’t look much like Headquarters to me, but he was speaking to a uni- formed policeman who had crowded up from the direction of the pay-gate, and the cop had nodded and gone off. It was the thin, dapper man who called for attention. “The police will be here in a min- ute,” he said. “We can’t disturb any- thing until the coroner holds a pre- liminary inquest. I’d suggest that none of you leave.”’ Hopping, too, stood within the half circle, near Eva’s body; and finally it was to him that LaVerne appealed, again holding out the coat. “Cover the poor thing up—I can’t bear the sight—” OPPING flung the coat over the small, crumpled body. As he did so he gave LaVerne a curious glance. I wondered if it had seemed to him, as it had seemed to me, that she was laying it on too thick. I didn’t want to go corny with suspicion—but after all, she had pinched Eva earlier this eve- ning and made her scream and cover cCoOnmiclool (C©