Pulp Fiction, 1950 · page 16 of 132
15 Story Detective, April 1950 — page 16: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis: "15 Story Detective" This page contains story prose from what appears to be a hardboiled crime or detective pulp magazine. The narrative follows an inspector investigating backstage at the Prince Club, a nightclub venue. The inspector interviews a manager about the dressing room assignments for various performers—including comedians, dancers, a pianist, and chorus girls—then stations himself in the hallway to observe activity. The text describes the arrival of various performers, including a woman the inspector recognizes from a race track, whom he observes with a man named Jake Left. The prose is typical early-20th-century detective fiction, focusing on physical description and suspicious character observation.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
y & Oog | i6 ae 15 Story Detective ——— = without raising a crop of questions. “Show me around back here.” We went through another door which opened into a long hall. The Prince Club had plenty of glamor and glitter for the paying customers—but none of it had been spread around the dressing rooms. The hall had a couple of unshaded bulbs, walls decorated with nothing but faded paper and a pay telephone, and a well-worn carpet. It was an L-shaped hall, ‘coming in from my right, making a corner and stretching a longer distance in front ef me. It ended at a heavy curtain. Be- yond that were the people who could afford it. . “Ail right, Pop,” I began briskly. “How many, people use these rooms ?”’ He scratched his bald spot. “I figure about 22, counting the musicians.” He pointed down. the short hall to our right. “The far one is empty. Then this one, right here near the corner, that’s Joey Moore, the comedian. In the six rooms in the big hall there’s Miss Layne. . .” “Which, cooms for which people, if you please.” , “Yes, sitr—Well, on the right side of the hall, Miss Layne has this first one, just around the corner from Joey Moore. Next to heron the other side is the countess—" , 3 “Countess ?”” “Countess Von Berolberg,” he ex- plained. “Plays classic piano. Then the end one on the right side, that’s for six of the girls.” . “Fine. And these three on the left side ?”’ . “The Norris Twins,” he answered, “in the first one.” “Guy and a girl?” He shook his head. “Two young fellas. Dancers. Very nice. Then the middle one is for four more of the girls. And the one at the end, the musicians use that. There’s seven of ’em.” “Okay, Pop. I'll just watch the traffic.” Re His head bobbed. “If you want any- thing, Inspector, just let me know.’ He turned away, then stepped aside as a couple of girls hurried through the door. They greeted him, and went down the long hall. At their dressing room door, one of them, the little brunette, looked back. I guessed it was the white tie and tails. | PARKED on a wooden chair about midway down. the hall, and tried to look as though [ belonged there. It was nearly ten o'clock. The first floor show would begin in half an hour, and the hall traffic was getting busier—and interesting. More of them arrived, along with a haughty-looking old crone I guessed was the Countess Von Berolberg. She glanced at me sharply, and her tong, thin nose wrinkled a fittle, like a blood- hound catching scent. Then her eyes went blank, and I might as well have been part of the wallpaper. She entered her dressing room—the one beyond Dawn Layne'’s. Presently Jake Left came in with a girl. He saw me immediately, but gave: no sign of recognition. [ didn’t pay much attention to him, either. No one would, with that girl around. She was the same one [ had seen him with at the race track. She wore a mink cape over a lowcut gown. Her blonde hair hung to her shoulders, and there was a smoky look to her eyes that aroused the fire inspector in me. They paused at her door, which was about ten yards away. I saw now that her face had a deceptive quality of softness. The set of her chin and the line of her jaw hinted she could harden like a shallow pond in a quick freeze. “Coming in, darling?” she asked Jake in a husky voice. | He shook his head. “T'Il see you later, baby.” “No,” she said. “T’ll see you later. For sure,” : Gomicbooks (F@)