10-Story Detective Magazine Cover — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

6——______—__—]0.STORY DETECTIVE went around with a classy mob of Holly- wood dolls and I liked that, too. So I made -it my business to see a lot of her.” “And how did she fee! about it?’ “She was just a kid,” Scarlatti said, tenderly. “Just a kid. She didn’t know what it was all about. But that don’t make any difference to me. When I like a woman, I like her, see?” “So now you’re going to prove it by murdering her, huh?” Scarlatti spat. “She should ’a’ thought about that before she doubled on me. At that 1 was big-hearted. I let her leave the kid on the steps of the church, didn’t I?” “Yeah, Scarlatti. You have a heart of solid gold. You even tried to throw mud on her after she was dead, with a fake tip on the redheaded guy.” The pale little gunsel laughed nastily. “I knew this redheaded O.P.A. rent in- vestigator guy had been canvassing the neighborhood and the story would click. ie “Neat,” admired Flax. “Now what?” “Pick up the stuff, tuck you away for keeps, and then back to New York. And all the way, I’ll.be thinking how cozy it is in that vault. That’s gonna be real nice to think about, for a long time.” LAX inched closer to the gun as Scar- latti busied himself with brag. But the mobster tossed the muzzle an inch, warningly. “Come on, gumshoe. Down to the cel- lars. You can help me dig up a little stashed dough and jewelry. Get going. Down that way.” ‘ He forced Flax before him toward the service wing. “Remember the Hotel Marina job? When all the bigs lost their ice and we hit the hotel] safe for the take on a three- day holiday? This was it. We stashed it and scattered. I’m the only one left to enjoy it.” Flax pushed ahead into the dusty- smelling darkness. He bumped into a packing case and grunted, “Can’t see a thing. Which way?” He eannily backed up, easing into posi- tion for a showdown. “Stand where ye are! Both of ye!” roared a flustered flattie voice. A riot gun reached out of the blackness and prodded Flax just above the belt buckle. He reached heaven high.» “O.K., O.K.,” he said soothingly. “Gottim!” grunted the harness man snapping a cold steel bracelet on one of Flax’s wrists and yanking the arm down. “Got mine, too!” snapped a younger man’s voice. “Flash your torch. Let’s see what we’ve caught.” A white splash of light seared Flax’s eyeballs, “It’s him, all right!” said the older cop with satisfaction. “That’s Flax!” “Sure ’m Flax! Who did you think I was?” “Ah, shut up! Who’s this other guy?” “That’s a mobster. Name of Scarlatti. He played with the mob that robbed the Agua Taliente money car a few years. back. And the Hotel Marino stickup. Wanted for the murder of Frankie Dun- mier.” “Qh boy, oh boy! Two swell pinches, Kinahan!” gloated the younger cop. “Two! One for you and one for me! “It’s you, Kinahan?” Flax queried. He knew Sergeant Kinahan, twenty- five years a uniform man, had little use for dicks of any breed. “It is,” the Irish flattie growled. “And proud I am to nail down a slippery privit that needs to smell the wrong side of the bars. You’re under arrest for murder!” “What do you mean?” ““You were seen leavin’ the old man’s shop, Flax. Yer license plate numbers were broadcast. We been lookin’ for ye all over the city of San Diego, an’ we found yer car out in the alley. By the grace o’ luck, it’s me, Jumes Kinahan, who put the bracelets on ye!” “T didn’t kill Henske. Scarlatti did. 1 tailed him here.” “He’s lying!” Scarlatti snarled. did it! I warned him not to!” “Shut up! The both of ye!” “He “Listen, Kinahan!” Flax insisted. “The | missing McCormick woman is in that vault.. Scarlatti locked her in there. We’ve got to get her out!” “That’s a new one on me,” the Irish sergeant remarked. “Take a look, Grupp.”’ HE younger patrolman prodded the two prisoners ahead toward the of- fice, where the candle still guttered and ‘flickered on the floor. ‘“Vault’s locked, Kinahan,” Grupp ‘re- ported tersely. “And it’s been that way ever since. the club folded,” sneered Scarlatti. “It’s no use stalling, Flax. We pulled the job. -comicbooks (eo) a us 33 aS atl