10-Story Detective, June 1945 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

—_.__——TNT FOR TWO——___—_—_ cause you don’t like the idea of a body in your doorway,” Eben said. arkin was silent, thinking it over. Eben waited, his right hand chest high. But there was not enough room. “We will walk down the street,” Mar- kin said presently. “It is reasonably dark and few people come along at this hour. If you force my hand, I’ll shoot you no matter what the circumstances.” “You can’t afford not to,” Eben said. Markin kept the gun against Eben’s back as Eben sidled out of the vestibule. With a quick step, Markin was beside him, holding his gun into Eben’s rib, There was no immediate advantage in be- ing out of the vestibule. At the far cor- ner & man and woman were lingering near a doorway, but Eben knew that he could count on no outside help. “No tricks,” Martin whispered harsh- ly. “First of all, Pll take your gun.” As he crossed his arm to Eben’s shoul- der, Eben laughed in his face. “You’re scared to death of me even though I walked into your trap.” “You’re a professional,” Markin mut- tered, He leaned against Eben to reach the holster. | “Sure, Frank,” Eben said. “Watch.” His knee was rising as he spoke. It jabbed into Markin’s groin. In that in- stant of agony, as he started to double up, Markin forgot about his gun. Then he remembered and squeezed the trig- ger, but Eben was no longer there. He stood at Markin’s side, waiting with his little revolver in his hand. Markin straightened all the way up and spun toward him. Casually Eben shot him through the heart, EESEN HUNT settled his small form in Inspector Swick’s best office chair and set fire to one of the inspector’s ci- war's. “So it was a murder business,” Swick was saying, “as ruthless and horrible as as anything I’ve ever come across. Mrs. Daly confessed when I confronted her with what I knew. Seems her husband was thinking of divorcing her, but she preferred his whole fortune to the settle- ment he’d make. She knew he hadn’t changed his will yet. “Somehow she contacted Frank Mar- kin or he contacted her. We’re not sure of that detail yet, but the fact is that the price was ten grand for the job, No fuss, no suspicion, no complications. In the same way somebody hired Markin, and his accomplice Art Yard, to do away with Hilda Whittier, though we don’t yet know who. I wouldn’t be surprised if Markin had other clients he was get- ting set to murder for.” 13 Eben waved his cigar. “Markin gave satisfaction. The clients, as you call them, could be out of town during the mur- der. The fact that it seemed to be a dou- ble killing, or a suicide pact, or-a murder by one of the victims that went wrong would divert normal suspicion from them, “Markin and Yard were always away from the scene of the crime during the murders, The TNT charges had been set some time in advance, probably by Art Yard who was good at that kind of thing. Then the ones who were to carry out the executions got the signal.” “Executions!” Swick snorted. “It was suicide. Dorothy Gibson and Charlie Falkner blew themselves up along with Dan Daly and Hilda Whittier.” scowled. “You said something about hyp- notism. You’re nuts.” “No,” Eben said. “It occurred to me for the first time when I learned how Dorothy Gibson had died.” “I’m telling you,” Swick insisted. “There’s not a hypnotist in the world can make people murder, let alone kill themselves.” “But that’s just the point,” Eben said. “They didn’t know what they were do- ing. Frank Markin selected particularly susceptible subjects to hypnotize, people who suffered from nervous disorders. He worked it through post-hypnotic sugges- tion. While they were under his spell, he ordered them to become acquainted with their intended victims, That wasn’t much of a demand to make on them, There was nothing in their moral code to object to making friends with certain people, When the stage was set and the TNT placed, he gave them a post-hypnot- ic suggestion to snap a certain switch at a certain time.” LOWLY Swick nodded. “I’ve seen it done as a joke. You hypnotize a guy and tell him that tomorrow when he hears a certain song played on the radio he should whoop like an Indian. The guy wakes up and walks out, normal as you please; he’s forgotten he’s been hypno- tized. Then next day he hears that song and whoops like an Indian. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t help himself.” “Exactly,” Eben said. “Markin’s post- hypnotic suggestion didn’t make any greater demand than that. All his stooges were instructed to do was to take their victims to a certain place and snap an ordinary toggle-switch, They had no idea that the act would kill them. They were merely snapping a switch during hypnot- ic compulsion. They didn’t live long enough after that to learn that it meant murder and suicide.” — “And the red lobaters, I suppose, were He . comicbook CO