15 Story Detective, April 1950 — page 56: what you’re looking at

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

56 . 15 Story Detective can show motive, we can create a little germ of doubt in Barry’s favor.” Laura frowned. ‘Motive? How would Barry’s being thrown out of pro bali help Stackie Coults?” “Maybe Barry wasn’t the target. Ever think of that? Maybe he’s the innocent bystander who got shot. Maybe George Deever is the target.” “Now wait a minute,” she said. “Let’s recapitulate, Kyle. On Saturday night before the game with the Rams, Stackie phoned the association and stated that he had been approached by George Deever and offered money to throw the game. He stated that the same offer had been made, in his presence, to Barry. He also re- ported it to Coach Bray. Bray and the association decided to wait and see how Barry would react. They let him go into the game. He fumbled on the Ram nine and Bray yanked him. Barry has no way of proving that the fumble was accidental. He-has no way of proving that Deever didn’t approach him. And he has ne way of explaining the-mysterious five hundred that was deposited, by mail, in his bank account on Saturday morning. How dees that hurt Deever? He was charged and he’s out on bail and when the excitement has died dewn he'll be given a little fine and he'll go his merry way. I don’t So hee “The most precious possession of any big-gun gambler, Laura, is anonymity. George Deever lost a slice of his. It could hurt him.” “T don’t see how.” “Neither do I, but I think we ought to find out, don’t your” Barry McBride, after he had delivered Laura, walked down the sunlit sidewalks of the main streets of River City. He met many people who had always greeted him with what he had assumed to be genuine liking. He was snubbed, whispered about. One man, an elderly citizen who, for many years, had been one of the financial angels to the Tamaracks, was bolder than the rest. He pulled up to the curb and_ said, ‘Come here, McBride.” “Hello, Mr. Swanton.” I’ve been hoping for a chance to see_ you, McBride, before you leave town. I want to get this off my chest. If I had my way you'l be tarred and feathered and ridden out of this town on a rail.” “That’s nice.” “We gave you every break. I remem- ber personally getting you your off-season job with the Willoughby Foundaries.” “T’ve given them their money’s worth.” “No doubt. What I mind, McBride, is the kids. You were a hero to the kids of this town. This is a football town. It is a shame that it had to be you to show them the dirty side of human nature.” “Are you through?” “Almost. Remember this, McBride. No matter how many times you change your name from now on, we'll find you and we'll spread the story. We want to make certain you'll never play ball again. Leave football alone and we’ll leave you alone. Is that clear?” “Tf you had twenty years less, Mr. Swanton, I’d drag you out of that car and spoil you.” “That’s exactly the sort of reaction I expected. You smart boys don’t know © what to do when you get caught.” “A man here is guilty until he’s proven innocent, eh?” “Innocent, eh? Maybe you can get a job as a comedian.” The rear tires squealed on the road as Swanton drove off. Barry stood on the curb for a long time. The anger was fad- ing now, the redness behind his eyes. In- stead a great cold lump was forming m the middle of him. This was a new sort of anger. It was like ice, T FIVE o'clock he was back in the small tavern where Laura had found him. He switched from beer to rye. Gomichooks EON