10-Story Detective, November 1942 — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

70——_____—_—__—10-STORY DETECTIVE ed the door just to see that no one slipped out during the confusion. The two small office windows were secure- ly barred, so no one could have left after locking the door. Lulu Shard had been shot with Duccino’s gun, but he kept it in his desk, where anyone could have got it. Jake Folrem, who was attorney for the club and often met his clients there, was on hand when Banning ar- rived. Folrem had obviously coached everyone in the stories they were to tell. Eva Perry had related a fantastic tale about not knowing Lulu Shard was there, and that a strange mascu- line voice had called her into the office as she passed on her way to the dress- ing room. Banning had been unable to shake her confidence last night, but was sure he could get a confession as soon as he completed his investigation. For he would then be able to show that no one else could have done the shooting. HE Rancho Club was a cheap tavern near the railroad station. Dirty crépe paper festoons hung from light fixtures. Faded liquor ads lit- tered the windows. Several railroad men with black caps and handker- chiefs knotted around their necks stood at the bar as Banning entered. He walked by them toward the smoke- stale, liquor-seented back room where a middle-aged man sat listening with evident displeasure to swing band tunes from the juke box. The man was slightly plump, grey- ing at the temples, and his clothes fitted him with that mail order look. His face was ruddy, windburned, his big hands brown and knotty. He looked up guilelessly as Banning stopped beside him. “They’re not like the good old tunes, captain,” Rube Jones said philosophi- cally. “Remember Turkey in the Straw, Barbary Allen, Auld Lang Syne?” “T didn’t come here to discuss mu- sic,” Banning snapped. Rube Jones turned away from the illuminated music box with a sigh. “That’s what I was afraid of, cap- tain.” His blue eyes looked up imno- cently at the officer. “When did you Shard?” “The day before she shot this po- liceman,” Rube replied without hesi- tation. “Met her on the street. Her and me broke up a couple of months ago, you know. I don’t blame her for pulling out, captain. I’m just small time and getting old.” ‘‘What was she doing?” “TI consider it rude to pry into oth- er people’s affairs.” “Why you—” Banning made a bel- ligerent move toward Jones. Rube held up his hand without any show of fear. “Take it easy, captain. You know you can’t scare me. If I can help the police I’ll be glad to, the same as any other citizen. But I keep out of a lot of trouble by minding my own business.”’ His voice was low and with- out rancor, and it soothed Banning as Jones knew it would. “Lulu Shard was murdered last night at the Blue Moon Club,” Ban- ning told him. Jones nodded, pulled out a red ban- danna handkerchief, blew his nose hard. “T really thought a lot of Lulu, captain. I warned her against the dan- gers of the big time. Those boys ain’t playing for marbles. Now me, I’m sat- isfied with a living.” “So Lulu was trying to shake down big money?” “That's what I gathered from her talk. But things must not have been going too well, for she was broke when I talked to her. Loaned her a fin to eat with. She looked like she hadn’t had a square meal in a week.” “And you haven’t any idea what she was doing?” “T’ve told you twice, captain, that I never pry into other people’s af- airs.” Jones hesitated a moment, then added: “That lad she shot—is he get- ting along all right?” Banning shook his head, and Jones went on. “Shoot- ing policemen is foolish. It doesn’t last see Lulu cConmmiclboooks C©