Pulp Fiction, 1950 · page 25 of 132
15 Story Detective, April 1950 — page 25: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This page contains story prose from a hardboiled crime pulp fiction titled "Two's Company—Three's a Shroud." The narrative follows a narrator who, after leaving a bar, is ambushed in a parking lot by two men named Al and Harry. They beat him, steal his gun, and force him into their car, apparently believing he knows something about a murder victim named Dawn Layne. The page ends with Al pistol-whipping the narrator while Harry waits in their running vehicle. Below the story text is a whiskey advertisement featuring a photograph of a businessman named Calvin Watson endorsing Calvert Reserve blended whiskey, claiming it's the best buy based on taste and quality.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Two's Company—Three’s a Shroud Dawn. I gambled. “Be careful, Joey. That Al is a tough customer.” Joey’s face was inscrutable. “Isn’t he, though?” he said, and left. t finished my drink. Joey had left part of his. | was paying for both, [ remem- bered. 1 finished his, too, and went out. The early morning air, gray with a thin fog, was a filmy wet curtain on my face. Traffic had eased off, and my footsteps made loud sounds as [ walked into the parking lot. Tt was dark, and chill. A guy stepped out from behind the car next to mine, res He said, “Don’t be in a hurry.” { couldn't distingtish his face. I had one foot on the running board, and my keys in my hand. [ threw them in his face, and grabbed at my gun. Just as my hand closed on it, something round, firm and fully packed landed alongside my head. { went down. My face was full of wet gravel. oo { raised up groggily, the guy was leaning over me with someone beside him in’ the murkey fog. I could recognize them, now. My pulse began beating like a runaway machinegun. “Get up,” Al grated. “Get on your peek == | “Anything for a friend,” I mumbled. As I arose, his companion, the thin one, clubbed my chin up with his forearm. I _ wondered bitterly why people always use = hat, private detectives for punching bags. The thin-one plucked my gun. Al said harshly,“ You get around a lot, Morgan. You like to travel, don’t you? ... Come on.” I would have been crazy not to have been scared. [ was bruised, and shaken, and very lonesome. [ asked, reasonably enough, “Where are we going?” He said, ‘‘Move out,” and back-handed me across the face. His friend laughed, that high, shrill sound like a nervous whinny, and stepped in. Al said, “Not here, Harry. Get the car started.” So now -[ had the thin one’s name, Harry. They knew [ was probably the only link between them and the time Dawn Layne had been murdered. For me, that was practically an epitaph. I said, nerves taut, “You got the wrong guy. You want somebody who knows you better than | do. Somebody from Detroit.” Al took a fistful of my shoulder. “Keep talking.” [ was stalling, hoping someone, anyone, would show up to give me a chance at a break. Harry had started the engine of their coupe, and was gunning it impa- tiently. “Getting rough won’t help.” “Maybe,” he said. “Let’s see.” He jerked a gun out of his pocket and snapped it down in a short arc. He was talented, all right. He didn’t break my jaw, but he gave me a reasonable facsimile of how it would feel. | 1 t\ eo. “Elementary! says Watson | CAIRO, ILL.—Calvin Watson, Cairo business- man, says it’s easy to pick today’s best whis- key buy. “Judge taste, lightness, mildness, flavor—and you'll switch to Calvert. I did, Elementary!” CALVERT RESERVE BLENDED WHISKEY—86.8 PROOF—65% GRAIN NEUTRAL SPIRITS. CALVERT DISTILLERS CORP. (N.Y.C, : COPNICLOOOKS