12 Sports Aces, January 1943 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

THE RED-LIGHT EXPRESS 21 9D Deere Qe rrr Hoe e Deo Doo Be Gee Po Boos Oe Qin Hoos Pee Por Oo Gee e Ds Doe Ge Deo Der Hre Dood ee Hess Gro Oe Pore Ge Ho Oe Os Dee oes Hee GD +e Or OG Der Hr Oe Dee Paes into the room. Harrigan’s face was grave and he whispered something into Sam Jonkins’ ear. Sweeney went into another room, picked up the telephone receiver. He listened to Buzzy Barnes’ voice on the other end of the wire and his face sudden- ly went white and his throat dry. “T’ll be right over, Buzzy,” he said, his voice shaking. “But keep what you know under your hat.” HE music had stopped in the other room when Sweeney stepped back into the scene. Sweeney looked at Harri- gan and the guests and he knew that the newspaperman had already told them the news. Sweeney strode over to Harrigan. “You were with Rock when that car hit him,” Sweeney said tightly. “It was no accident, Harrigan.” Sweeney’s words were a bombshell. The silence fell thick and deep. ~“You’re crazy,” Harrigan said calmly. “I was walking with Rock and he stepped off the curb too soon and got smashed. Maybe Rock did it on purpose. I dunno. He’s been acting kinda funny lately. May- be you know why.” Barry Pelham looked down his blue nose at Sweeney. “I’ve got all the an- swers I want, Sweeney. You'll be hearing more about this.” Sweeney stood there, anguish and an- ger burning inside of him. He looked past Pelham and into the background where a gloating smile played on Sam Jenkins’ lips. He looked at Angel Toland, then back again at Lew Harrigan. They were all in on the frame and had crossed Rock from every angle. Sweeney’s anger rioted inside of him. His fists clenched at his sides, he strode up to Jenkins. Then the riot started. Angel Toland rushed at Sweeney and Sweeney met him with a crackling left. He boomed over the right. Angel plunged forward, throwing his weight against Sweeney and explod- ing his knuckles in Sweeney’s face. Swee- ney went down. He jumped to his feet and a couple of guys grabbed him. They had a wildeat on their hands. They finally managed to drag him into another room. A moment later Connie Leonard came in and her lips were tight and her eyes shone sharply on Sweeney. At her side was Barry Pelham, a smug expression on his face. “You've tried to make a fool out of me,” she said fiercely. “That’s been your game from the beginning. But Barry’a kept tabs on you. I know about the scheme you and Rock had up your sleeves. Now it’s my turn to do a little punching,” She paused, laughed coolly. She added: “I’m making Angel Toland the new man- ager of the team. You'll like playing for Angel, won’t you, Mister Sweeney? There will be more later.” There was no adequate explanation that Sweeney could put forth without Rock’s assistance. Jenkins and the oth- ers in the double-crossing combination had seen to it that Rock would never ar- rive that night and ruin their racket. Jenkins had beat Rock to the punch, spilled his lies and pointed the finger of guilt at Rock and Sweeney. Pelham had apparently been innocently taken in and given a good city slicking. Connie her- self was dead-set in her attitude and filled with visions of revenge, Sweeney said: “You haven’t heard all the answers yet. You haven’t begun to hear them. But right now, all I give a damn about is Rock.” “Rock is dead,” Pelham said. “I under- stand the car that hit him killed him,” “That was the plan,” Sweeney said bitterly. “But when they picked Rock up, he was unconscious but not dead.” Down on the street a minute later, a cab jerked forward and Sweeney puHed open the door and stepped inside. He started to name the hospital Buzzy had given him over the phone, Then he felt something hard pressing into his side. Sweeney’s glance went to the front seat where Bo Madden sat with the driver. Occupying the back seat were a couple of Madden's hand-picked thugs. “Make yourself comfortable,” Bo Mad- den said sardonically. ‘““We’re willing to go out of our way to drop you oft at the hospital. But first we mean to relieve you of the three grand you’re carrying around. Now wouldn’t it look lousy, 4 hockey player having that kind of dough on him? Why, if somebody found ouf, CORNICGOOOLK (E@)