10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

—_____+___—_—_GROOMED FOR THE GRAVE————————67 » “the Grom Table afl to biel, and he wanted Kreger in the morgue. There was a way to get all these things without em- barrassment to himself, in spite of a smart cop like Leo Bragan. That flatfoot knew Tony Sava had once bumped off a punk named Sammy Fay, but he had never been able to prove it. Bragan would sell his soul to hang something on him. NY saw Benny Scott a few hours later. Benny said he and Kreger had an appointment at The Glass Key, one ' of Kreger’s own night spots the next night. “Maybe I can do somethin’ with him, Tony. He’s got plenty of gravy with- out slugging us for that much every week,” | “Good luck,” Sava said sourly, certain plans revolving inside his head. He knew that Mike was over his head regarding a platinum blonde that sang three times nightly at The Glass Key, and that Kreger never left that place until she had finished her stint, about one o’clock in the morning. There was a waiter in the place who was an old pal of Tony’s whe could help out considerably. “You’l need plenty of luck, Benny. No rough stuff, see? Kreger has plenty of protection in that layout.” “Forget that old stuff,” Benny said. “We don’t go in for that killing anymore. There’s class in this racket now.” “T forgot,” Tony said.. There was a gun in a desk drawer in the office at the Green Table. It was an Italian 9-mm. Glisenti automatic a pal had brought back from the war and had presented it to him, Only two men knew it was there, Tony Sava and Benny Scott. Only two men knew where to press the button under the desk top that released a spring and shot the drawer open with a bang. It was pro- tection against a possible stickup. Tony carried the automatic in his pocket the night Benny met Kreger at The Glass Key. The waiter there kept calling Tony on the phone. At twelve forty-five, Tony stood in a phone booth not far from the apartment house where Mike Kreger lived. He said, “Eddie, tell Benny | called and give him this message. He should go to the clubrooms as soon as he leaves Kreger. Tell him to wait there, because I might be delayed.” “Right,” Ed said. He and Benny called that little loft over on Hast ee abe the clubroom. It was where they had made three bottles of Scotch or rye out of two; where they put labels of high class stuff on bottles of bootleg blends. They made a nice profit that way. And they saw to the cutting personally to pare down the hush money. “Call me here when Kreger leaves, Bd.” The call came at ten past one. Tony hurried out of the drugstore and went to the apartment house where Kreger lived. The lobby was narrow and practically in darkness, Tony flattened himself against the wall, screened by a potted tropical palm. A cab stopped outside. The big man came in and waiked past. Tony took out his Italian automatic ind put two neat holes in the back of the big shot’s camel’s hair coat. He hurried out of there, ducked around a corner, then walked leisurely alor the street. Passing an ash can he ditched the gun, took off his gloves, and shoved them into his pocket. Fifteen minutes ) ter he went up to the office in the Green Table the back way and unlocked the door. He waited for Benny. . “He'll be burning,” Tony grinned. There was no telephone in the clubrooms. “Maybe he’s doing some work there and still waiting for me.” Twenty minutes later, Tony Sava heard the determined steps on the broadloom outside. Yeah, Benny was sore. The door opened. Tony checked the words that he _had had ready to slide off his tongue. It was not Benny Scott, but Leo Bragan. The big cop with the square face and close-cropped mustache said, “Hello Tony,” and swung a big leg across the arm of a chair. “There’s been a killing. We wouldn't have known until morning if some guy hadn’t come home late to that apartment house, filled with heoch. Where’s Benny?” “Don’t know for sure,” Tony said. “He said he had an appointment with Kreger earlier. At The Glass Key. Haven’t seen him since—” “Oh? Did Benny carry a gun, Tony?” “Sometimes. I kept tellin’ him they were poison, Bragan. Look, I[ ain’t sharin’ no murder rap with him if he went and —wait.” Tony went to the desk, slid his fingers under the edge, and pushed. A drawer snapped open, and Bragan jumped “It’s gone,”’ Tony said. Nice pre gs: for a cmsla af Bragen a = ~ rd = eee ae. See