15 Story Detective, April 1950 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

14 15 Story Detective __.. = He inhaled slowly, and his face was in- scrutable. “Yeah, you’re quick,” he said. “Lightweights always have to be quick.” “Cops wouldn’t give you a pistol permit, eh? Maybe you have a record.” His jaw muscles hardened. your lip flaps too much.” “So you have to hire someone to watch Dawn Layne for you,” I went on, “be- cause you can’t carry a gun to protect her yourself,” He scowled, and for a moment I thought he would leave. I thought, too, about the fee leaving with him, and was regretful. But the prospective job suited me like a fat man’s belt suits a midget—I had no stomach for it. He said, “I’ve told you how it is.... { take Dawn to the club. I take her home. All you have to do is guard her dressing room for a couple of hours each night. If you don’t want the job, say so.” [ was on the point of saying so when the loudspeaker cut in with, “And— there they go!” I thought, If Easy Go wins, like a nice, well-behaved horse who loves suckers, I can tell this Jake Left to go take a walk. I won't need his money. I said, “Let’s have reverent silence, please. My bank- roll is running.” “Tnto the stretch,” said the loudspeaker, and there was electricity in the air. “It’s Fair Friend in front by two lengths—and on the outside, here comes Easy Go!” Jake Left wore a crooked smile. “Don’t breathe,” I said. “That’s me, and many dollars.” “It’s Fair Friend and Easy Go. It’s Easy Go and Fair Friend,” barked the speaker, as though he couldn’t believe it, either. - And’ that’s the way they finished. Easy Go had closed at ten to one. I had a hun- dred dollars, and Jake Left needed another boy. } I straightened, and at that moment my brain let go of the dollar sign and adopted “Maybe another thought. I had needed money the way a wagon needs wheels. I couldn’t go far without it. Now I had money—but the new thought reminded me that I needed something else, and had needed it for some time. Call it encouragement, revival of in- terest or confirmation. But I had been wondering whether I belonged in this crazy business, sometimes up, sometimes not up, acting as a check-room attendant for trouble. Perhaps I should blow out my brains and go back to being a police reporter. Here, simply was a chance to find out. Because underneath Jake Left’s studied casualness I had caught a hint there was more to this than I was being told. “Morgan,” he said, “it’s:such a simple thing.” . “Yeah. Real simple. Like sticking my neck under an axe. Makes me hate to take your money.” “Really ?” “No,” I said, and couldn’t shake the feeling I had just swallowed a hook. He handed me two twenties and a ten, and the hook tasted a little better, even if he did act as though he were pitching crumbs to a pigeon. “Be there at ten tonight.” “You'll recognize me,” I said. “T’ll be the one in the acid-proof armor.” He frowned. “One more thing. Don’t tell Dawn about this. That’s why [ hustled her out of here. I didn’t want her to see us together. No point in worry- ing her.” “Or letting her know about the other girl,” I said. “That’s just dandy. What ain I supposed to do; blend into the wood- work? Or are there always bodyguards around her dressing room?” “You make everything tough, don’t you? I don’t care how you do it, Morgan. Just do it.” He left. : I watched him go, wondering about many things, and couldn’t help but think COPNICLOOO KS (E@)