10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

TSD I ask Hambone as civilly as anyhody could. “You been readin’ detective stories again, Alvin,” Hambone snaps. “This _ erook might have wanted to be differ- ent and didn’t wear none. All cases are not alike like olives, remember that.” “Look, Hambone,” I reply. “If Herman Zelch was so greedy for the butterfly, we should look and see if it is gone, huh?” “Are you in charge here or am I?” Noonan yelps. “You sit down over there and watch, Alvin.” I do. Mr. Deeds comes in and wanders around like he had just gobbled up four Mickey Finns. The pooch keeps going around in circies, then trots out into the hall. Mrs, Fritchy calls to Mr. Deeds, but he won’t come back. “It is as if he thinks I was to blame,” the widow says. “He always came when I called him. Did you see how he looked at me? Oh, he is never going to forgive me for going to Tenafly—never, He’ll never speak to me again.” WATCH Noonan and other things. -Behind the chair in which the re- mains still sit is a pedestal on which the statue rested. It is quite solid. All the shades in the room were pulled down, all except one. That one was rolled up to the limit. In one-corner of the room there is an old woolen shawl crumpled up. Close to it there is a rubber ball all pitted. “Well, there ain’t no prints nowhere,” the helpers tell Hambone. “It looks like you got a cinch here, Noonan. Zeleh crocked Sylvanus Fritchy and lifted the moth awright.” . “So everybody has solved the murder except me,” Hambone says sneeringly. “So I will just go home, as I am only in the way.” “Your husband didn’t like teo much sunlight, Mrs. Fritchy?” I ask in spite of Hambone. “The shades—” : “Sylvanus always pulled them down at night. He hated people to look in at him when they went by,” the widow says. “Ohhhhh Mr. Deeds!” she suddenly screeches. 7 The pooch does not show, so Mrs. Fritchy sits down and carries on some- thing fierce. ‘He won’t ever speak to me again, I know. When he looked at me before he went out, he looked like he’d mever seen me before. Oh, I can’t bear MOTH BAGGED——————___________49 “Look,” Hambone says. “Never mind the pooch. It is alive, huh? Mr. Fritchy won’t never worry about no more in- creases in taxes, or have you forgot? Let’s see them stuffed butterflies.” “And Mr. Deeds never even bit either one of you when you came in!” Mrs, Fritchy wails. “I’m awful sorry,” I says. “When he comes back maybe he won’t slight us again. Does he go for hambones?”’ What a case, Louie! Well, we go into the late Sylvanus Fritehy’s den and look at the specimens of leopardsoptera. The widow lets out a shriek. She stabs her finger at a gap in the collection framed on the wall. | “The Citheronia regalis is gone! That fiend killed Sylvanus and made him swap.” “Which is a gooa trick if anybody could do it,” I says. “Hambone, we have nothing more to do than go pick up Zeleh and make him take down his hair.” “He is bald,” Mrs. Fritchy said. “It is only a figment of speech, Ma’am,” Noonan says irritably. “It means we will make him sing.” “He can’t hold one note,” Mrs. Fritchy replies. Hambone paws at his face and sighs deeply. “Why not just make him confess ?” “We will,” Hambone says. “If Zelch had any principles at all, he would at least have left the other two moths in ex- change.” On the long table under the collection of moths is a goldfish bowl, Louie, There are two fishes and a turtle swimming about. Hambone says quickly, “He had to move the table and the bowl, the killer, to reach up for the butterfly, the zitheron- ium regallis. Most likely he took off his gloves by that time and forgot to put them back on. There should be prints on the bowl. You ean see them with a naked eye, guys. Hurry up. I can’t wait.” It is a swell-looking turtle, Louie. It squints at me and looks for a minute like it was grinning and licking its chops. Well, there were no prints on the gold- fish bowl on the table. Hambone says it does not faze him, as it is a cinch Her- Zelch succumbed to an uncontrolloble desire to own the butterfly and committed a cold-blooded crime in the act. We go over to see Herman Zelch. Her- man. lives in an apartment house in Fleet- ‘wood. When we are admitted into his = as “oe Ae re atl ee gee — Fi ee on enl e, e nore i en oe SSS