15 Story Detective, April 1950 — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

Detective My Pappy always told me that the shertest distance between two points is minus a detour, so I reached over for the © telephone to call the Police—and that’s when it rang. I hefted the receiver. “Hello?” “Hello, Johnny?” said Willy Forbes’ voice. “You find it?” “Yeah,” I snapped. “I found it.” “Is it hot, keed?” “Loaded,” I told him vehemently. “Okay, come on over here, I want to make talk with you.” There was a note of surprise in my veice as I asked, “How ceme you changed your mind, Willy?” “IT need the dough,” he said simply. “T’m flat—so, I’ll take the case.” “T'll be over in fifteen minutes,” I mouthed into the phone. Then as the door opened and Honey Smith walked in, I said, “Make it half an hour, ” and then hung up. The camel hair sportcoat she were couldn’t hide the sag to her shoulders, and her eyes that usually sparkled proveca- tively had an opaque deadness about them that shocked me. “What's wrong, Honey ?” T asked softly. I guess I must have made it too soft because she threw herself down on the chair and started to cry. I’m a sucker fer crying women, especially if they’re beau- tiful, and Honey is definitely in the latter category. But there’s nothing much you can do except let them cry; so I walked over and thumbed through some record albums until it passed, then I dit a ciga- rette and gave it to her. _ She took it like she needed it and I watched her luscious red lips drag deeply until her well-shaped mouth expelled clouds of smoke towards the ceiling. “I’m scared, Johnny,” she moaned, and her voice broke in twe, “scared to death!” “Of what?” “Bud White!” I heard her exclaim through set lips. | While I took a deep breath I noticed the urgent appeal in her eyes. “Johnny, you must make him stop what he’s doing to Ken. Ken will kill him—I know he will. He took an eath last night.” I led her on with premeditated callous- ness, “Do you really: believe Honey ?” “Oh yes, yes!” She sounded sated: : “He swore it to me. You must make Bud stop!” “And since when do you care so much about what happens to Bud White?” I asked harshly. “T don’t—I don’t!” she chattered. “Tt’s Ken, he’s crazy wild I tell you. Johnny, I’ve never seen him like that before.” She clenched her hands together until they showed white. “You should have stayed with me, baby,” I growled pointedly. “We were getting along fine.” She looked up and this time there was: no mistake. I did see the old fire in her eyes. “T made a mistake, Johnny,” her soft voice caressed. “Don’t we all,” I said and took ate hand in mine. “TI tried to reach Bud, ” she said, “but there was no answer.’ “How could there be,” I thought bit- terly. She reached over and her warm hand cupped my knee. “Will you talk to Bud? For me, Johnny, for old times.” <<F reminded her, “Honey, I’d do any- thing for you, but this I can’t do, believe me.” “Then he'll kill him. I know he will!” And her blood pressure went soaring again. I whipped her with my voice. “Do you know what you're doing?” I questioned loudly. She just sat there moaning, “You're sending Ken to the electric chair,” IT rapped out and watched her sit up straight. “With what you've just said,” J that, (EO) Gomichbooks: