12 Sports Aces, January 1943 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

THE RED-LIGHT EXPRESS | : 9 The girl had an impishly upturned nose and it went up a little higher. But there was laughter in her eyes, “We aren’t reporters;” the girl said pointedly. “Last night we celebrated and we've been every place and this is sort of a nighteap for us. We’re going to watch the Raiders practice, Fhey are going to practice, aren’t they ?” The dark handsome man with the mis- placed eyebrow on his lip, standing be- side the girl, had a very bored expression on his face. ? “Really, Connie,” the mustaehed man put in, “you aren’t serious about waiting to see the Raiders practice. This hockey business is a bug in your head that I'd suggest you get rid of.” Sweeney looked at the mustached guy, amused, “You really ought not to leave after waiting so _ long,” mimieked, “Do tell the man at the door that Sweeney said to let you in if you _have any trouble. It might turn out to be a bloody good brawl. Perhaps we ean find a waiter who'll serve you drinks, also.’”’ “If it’s bloody action, Pl love it,” the girl said, smiling. “And I don’t think we'll have to mention your name to get in—Mister Sweeney.” Sweeney found Roek Gurnsey in his offiee. The Raider owner-manager was a stocky, bushy-browed man. He stood up, put out his hand to Sweeney. “How’s things, Sweeney?” he asked. “And Alice?” “Everything is great, Roek,” Sweeney said, a grin cutting across his lips. “Alice is eoming along fine. Why, one of these days—” Sweeney stopped short, the grin fading. ‘Phen: “You got my telegram, didn’t you, Rock? I didn’t figure Fd he this late reporting.” Roek nodded. “Yeah, I got it. You don’t have to explain. Alice comes first in both our books.” . Sweeney pulled the newspaper out of his pocket. He meant to show Reek the story of the Raidexs’ financial plight, ask him point-blank ff the statements attrib- uted to him were the MeCoy. Sweeney started to thumb past the front page but stopped abruptly. On the lower middle : Sweeney section of the page was a pieture of a girl. Sweeney stared at it. The girl’s name was Connie Leonard and she was the same girl he had eneountered a few minutes ago. The picture showed her cutting a cake and the caption read: Connie’s Twenty-One and Inherits Five Million Sweeney scanned the first paragraph of the story that fellowed: Connie Leonard, seciety debutante, cele- brated her twenty-first birthday and it was quite an occasion. Today, Connie eollected the down payment of five million of a twenty-million dollar estate bequeathed her by her late father, K. L. Leonard, the finan- cier. , The beautiful young heiress, fameus for her madeap escapades, has startled society - biggies time and again, She’s known to be especially fond of boxing matches and hockey games. Connie was recently quoted as say- ing, “Sure I’m crazy about fights and hockey games, And I like ’em good and bloedy, too.” Rumor has it that Miss Leon- ard’s engagement to Barry James Pelham, her personal attorney, will soon be forth- coming. Sweeney smiled, The story explained a lot of things. It explained why Con- nie Leonard had concluded her night's itmerary at the hoekey rink. Phe dark, mustached man was undoubtedly her lawyer friend. Sweeney looked up te see Rock Gurnsey grinning over his shonider. “The gal’s a nut on hockey,” Reek said, smiling. “She hardly misses a game. One of Angel Toland’s fans. But that doesn’t help this situation. I’m afraid lve brought you on a wild goose chase. I’m ready to call it a day, Sweeney.” “Ttt’s really that bad, then.” O€K GURNSEY nodded. “I’ve tried everywhere to raise the dough to see the club through the rest of the sea- son. Fve got till game time Thursday to get up the dough, sell or forfeit the franchise.” “Maybe you could stall the wolves off awhile yet,” Sweeney said, “If the team could get a couple of winning games un- der its belt maybe the fans would start coming around.” | A thin bespectacled man had conse into erie. = commicoools (E@