10-Story Detective, June 1945 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

“Not the real estate broker?” The reporters scribbled feverishly on scraps of paper. “Yup,” the sergeant said, “That Dan Daly. Don’t know what he was doing here at this hour, especially with a girl.” “Girl?” Pencils paused in midair. “Yup,” the sergeant said. “She really got it. No identity so far. They’re pick- ing up the pieces in a basket.” Eben turned away. In the lot two men were carrying a large wicker basket be- tween them, They moved slowly, watch- ing the ground, and they wore rubber gloves. Eben went toward them, “Over there, Ed,” one of the men said. The man named Ed stooped. For a long moment he stood looking at the white arm he had picked up. “Young girl,” Ed said. “Nice hand. Arm cut off clean like with an ax. Funny thing explosions.” Eben leaned forward from his hips, staring at the small square diamond ring on the middle finger. It was Dorothy Gib- son’s, He was sure of it, because he al- -ways noticed jewelry. His stomach was sickeningly empty as he turned back to the street. This was the girl he had thought of while lying in bed at night. Now all that was left of her was an arm, a hand, and a ring. This was the girl he had asked only a few hours ago to have dinner with him, and who might have accepted if she hadn't received a little celluloid lobster. The toy lobster—why should it have had such startling effect on her? For eighteen years a lobster had been a lin- gering joke, a drunken schoolboy gag. How could there be any connection? He stuck a cigarette into his mouth and tried to bring a lighted match to it. His hand shook. He was angrier than he had ever been in his life. BBOLICE INSPECTOR SWICK had joined the reporters on the sidewalk, Eben moved to the fringe of the group to hear what was said. “We know the woman wasn’t Daly’ 4 wife,” Swick was saying, “because we got in touch with Mrs. Daly by phone. She’s visiting her mother.” “Daly never went anywhere with his wife,” a reporter put in. “He had a string of dames.” The reporter scowled at the hole where the shack had been. “But why would a guy like that bring a girl to this dump? And how’d the shack blow up?” TNT. ” Swick’s small eyes in pouchy sockets came to rest on Eben. He frowned, “The bomb squad found traces of it. What a way to murder! I figure the killer had a wire connected to the TNT and stood off © TINT FOR TWO- > at the other end of the lot where he could see Daly and the woman enter the shack. Then he let go.” The reporters’ pencils flew. One oe “Any idea of the motive, Inspec- or %? ‘‘Maybe jealousy. We know how Daly ran around with other women. His wife told me plenty over the phone. Maybe a boy friend of one of Daly’s women—” Swick’s eyes swung back to Eben, ‘‘What paper you work for? I’m speaking to vou, the little guy there.” Eben forced himself to grin. “I was passing by. The cops didn’t stop me.” “They didn’t, eh?” Swick brushed through reporters and glowered down at Eben. Suddenly his arm shot out; his big hand bunched Eben’ s jacket lapels. “You’re Eben Hunt.” Eben said angrily, “Take your paws off “Look who’s getting tough. Didn’t I tell you five years ago to get out of Coast City and stay out?” Swick tossed a happy chuckle at the reporters. “I think we got the case solved, boys, This is Eben Hunt, con-man and gunman, and he’s on the scene of the crime.” Eben said nothing. He was too angry for words. “Hell, Inspector,” Morgan of the Coast City Courier said, “I knew Eben Hunt, He had a mustache and looked sort of —” Morgan peered into Eben’s face, ‘Well, maybe. A man changes. What about his fingerprints?” aoe file but we don’t need ’em. Watch is ”? Swick released Eben and peabbed his left arm. He pushed up Eben’s jacket sleeve. Eben started to bring up his free fist. He checked himself, Trembling with rage, he stood small and insignificant while Swick pushed up the shirt sleeve. On the underside of his forearm a small lobster was tattooed. It was a precise re- production of the celluloid lobster which Dorothy Gibson had received in the mail. CHAPTER II | ee THE morning Eben Hunt was re- leased. They worked on him for a cou- ple of hours in the basement, but he was hardened to that. He knew that there was not a scrap of evidence against him. He was getting the business only because of his. reputation. Then he was confronted with Dan Daly’s wife, a rather attractive young woman who might have been beautiful if she had permitted the sourness to leave - her mouth and eyes, She said she had - tS =€O : com icboo K