10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

ROGUES’ GALLERY HANGING——————_—21 pointed out. “And the police department won’t be needing me. Not at all.” Herb, the cat, jumped up on the couch beside her, and she brushed the blue fur. She said suddenly, “Call for me at ten o'clock. Bring an extra fifty dollars.” “Thanks for the estimate on the job, of course, it’s a mere nothing to a man of Mr. Nosegay’s means.” “Is a job on the police department werth fifty dollars?” “I see what you mean,” I said. “Ten o'clock, then.” “I’m not sure I know what I mean at “al. Perhaps you'll be wasting your money. 7 I opened the door. Lizzie Quinn shooed the blue cat off the couch and stood up. “You saw Pardo’s broken mop. Why did- n't you arrest him or something?” “Because Pardo wasn’t the guy who eonked me with it.” “Who did?” “DorSey DelaDame, first floor busts.” There weren’t any officers in the hall. I slipped out of 1600 Cathedral Lane and walked quickly down the street. Our squad car—rather, Chesney’s squad car —was still parked in front of St. Mys- tica’s. I couldn’t look it in the face. I didn’t leave the neighborhood. In the next block I found a little pub and lunch room run by an Athenian. J sat at the bar talking with him and drinking Dick Smiths until ten o’clock. After he found out I’d been in Tunisia, most of the drinks were free. He made me tell him over and over how many Germans I had shot the hell out of. As the Dick Smiths began working I hiked the count up to a couple thousand. It seemed to make the Athenian happy, and I began to believe it myself. Police cars passed the pub occasionally, fanning out from 1600 Cathedral Lane on their mysterious errands. Whenever they moaned past I didn’t feel as good as I had liquor enough to warrant, The sirens seemed to recreate Sergeant Ches- hey’s scathing contempt, or his deceptive gentleness, or his final exploding how] of dismissal. “You need a drink, pal,” the Athenian. said. But he made me eat a pair of sa- lami sandwiches and drink a pint of black eoffee, before he’d let me out for my date _ at ten. No. 1600 and I were ht up like a the- ater marquee, Lizzie coco: let = Rs. looked me over, and murmured, “Oh, dandy!” She was wearing some kind of two- tone outfit, a cerise top and a black skirt with a cerise ruffle like crimped crepe pa- per zooming across the front. Her black hair was piled on top of her head like my mother’s washerwoman used to wear hers, only this was strictly from queen- liness. We went outside, and Lizzie sort of | - teased me into her coupé. “And you're taking me out,” she said, easing the car out into traffic. “By the by, what’s your name?” “Nosegay. Arbutus L. Nosegay.” “Come, come, blithe spirit.” “It’s Nosegay,’”’ I repeated firmly. “Did a cop question you after I left? A broth of a man with a trigger temper named Chesney ?”’ “He questioned everybody. I told him all I could.” “Did you mention that it was you who telephoned a report of family trouble at Number 1600?” “He didn’t ask me that question, luckily.” “But wasn’t it you, Lizzie? Why did you phone headquarters?” “Beeause I’d heard a terrific argument going on upstairs somewhere. I wanted the police to get there before somebody got hurt. I didn’t know exactly what to tell them, so I said family trouble.” “Who was arguing, Lizzie?” “T recognized Johnni Anger’s voice. He was raving angry about something. I didn’t recognize the other voice.” “You mean,” I said, “that you’re afraid to mention the other guy’s name.” “It was Bakosh,” she said. She tooted the horn to pass a truck, and pulled back into her lane. “How do you know it was DorSey DelaDame who beat you with Pardo’s mop?” “His shoes. His lovely tan cordovan ‘gunboats.” “Mr. Nosegay, you’ve got a dandy pack- age,” Lizzie said. “His shoes, I tell you. He had some of my fountain pen ink on his tan shoes. The pen smashed when I fell. The ink splattered over me, the wall, and Dela- Dame’s pretty shoes. I went into his room and looked him over. I noticed the ink stains right away, because otherwise he was decked out Hike a matinee idol.” __ “He used to be a third rate actor. Now = rt ay a . + ‘ - . oe =<, Se Se Se ee aS rn a on Re a, Se rt = <a diien — —— ee a 8s ~* ~ : 2 — ~ = + > = Sos