15 Story Detective, April 1950 — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

42. All right. If you weren’t certain of the facts you presumed. Rincon had killed Mary Warton, making Spencer the stooge for the crime. That meant that as far as Rincon was concerned he would know nothing until the police or Dora notified him. He would be wondering about Spen- cer, about the necklace, and what Spencer would do when he discovered the necklace in his belongings. If Spencer went to the police with his story, Rincon would have his alibi ready. What Rincon didn’t know was that police already had the necklace, that they were relentlessly looking for Spencer. The siren reminded Spencer of that fact. He heard it first in the pit of his stomach, and then his feet were taking him away from the immediate vicinity. And then he heard another piercing wail off to the left and coming closer, Some- where in the depths of the city another sounded, Spencer hurried his steps. They were combing the city; they would stop and check every man that even slightly re- sembled the right one. The siren on the left was closing in. Spencer jerked around, looking for es- cape. The panic was edging in again. Dark store fronts. The corner street light. A drug store over there. The siren beat against his ears; the red spot of a prowl car came around the corner. A white spot swept the opposite corner, It picked out a man standing there, steadied on him. The man stood outlined, frozen. Then he moved. The prowl car swung back and a loundspeaker blared out. “You there, on the corner! Don’t move !” The spotlight held the man again. He didn’t move. The prowl car slid against the curb; a uniformed cop got out, fol- lowed by the driver. They closed in on the man. 15 Story Detective a tie aes moved forward against the buildings, pained the lighted entrance of the drugstore. A man wearing a smock and two women. were staring across the street. They didn’t look at Spencer as he entered the store, A girl clerk came to wait on him. She wanted to know what was going on out there. Spencer told her he didn’t know, said he wanted to use a phone, and the girl told him the booths were at the rear. He went back there. There were three empty booths. There was a directory on a slanting ledge. He opened the directory, unable to read, his brain with the prowl car and the man they had stopped. He didn’t know long he stood there, looking at lines on a page. He heard the siten start up again, very softly at first, then building to a climax. It was going away from him, dying away. He focused his eyes. Rincon, There was a Rincon bar, then a Harry Rincon, then a Roy Rincon. He had his back turned; it was easy to tear the page out of the book. Then he went inside the first booth, made a pre- tense of dialing and talking. Then he eased out of the booth and walked outside. No one paid attention to him. He found the Rincon bar easily enough, Spencer had his beer served by a burly barkeep. Spencer walked away from his beer, hurried outside. He looked at Harry Rin- con’s address, out on 46th Street. His eyes jumped to the next line. Roy Rincon kept house at an address that was listed as be- ing on the corner of Eleventh and Elm, Spencer hunted for a cigarette, couldn’t find one. He walked ahead and found a magazine and newspaper stand in the middle of the block. He bought cigarettes, matches, asked the old man casually where Elm Street was. The old man told him to hike up to Broadway and Eleventh, then turn left one block. Spencer thanked him and went away. comichbook 7COr