15 Story Detective, April 1950 — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

78 15 Story proved to deal with. other matters. But he recognized the one he was waiting for. Larski hitched himself closer to the desk and a look of absolute concentration froze his face as he held the receiver to his ear. Emery's jaw hung loose. He crowded against Larski hoping to hear what came over the green. silk-wound wire. But Larski held the receiver tightly against his ear and Emery could hear nothing. Larski hung up and drew a deep breath. No emotion showed on his frozen fea- tures. The bitter cold fist of fear clutched at Emery’s heart. Larski gazed at Emery’s set face. “You were right, Bob.” “Thank the Lord!” There was a lot of action immediately. Larski knew how to get his office working at high speed. To make sure there would be no hitch, Larski called in two short- hand stenographers. He ordered the police laboratory technicians to come right up. And finally he called the jail and in- structed that the dapper Mr. Loffel, who was being held as a material witness, be brought to his office. Loffel’s mustache twitched nervously as he entered the office behind a pot-bellied policeman. Larski waved him to a chair with a matter-of-fact gesture. “Just rou- tine, Mr. Loffel,”’ he soft-soaped,” mere routine. We wish to take down a word for word statement.” He nodded at the burly trooper sitting across the room. ‘Trooper Schaff who took charge at the murder scene will listen and inform me if you tell a different story from the one you told him.” “Oh!” A confident smile drew the eye- brow mustache to a long pencil line. “I’m ready.”’ The stenographers poised their pencils. Bob. Emery turned his face away from the man. He didn’t want him to sense a possible trap. The mustache danced and writhed as the owner talked rapidly, confidently on. The stenographers Detective made swift pot-hooks, dashes, and curli- cues. “Um-huh.” Larski grunted noncom- mitally as Loffel concluded. Emery could barely keep himself from crying out with joy. Larski kept control of his voice ad- mirably. “So you actually saw Trooper Main shoot back at Sam?” “Indeed I did! It was horrible!” The mustache screwed up in a wince of ex- treme pain. Bob Emery leaped from his chair. “Tf the trooper shot at Sam, why did the paraffin test taken on his dead hands show a negative reaction? If he'd fired the gun, the test would have been posi- tive!” Loffel’s face grayed and he stuttered wildly. He looked about in panic. Larski’s face grinning wolfishly held him at bay. Emery was waving an angry finger under the quivering mustache. “You shot Sam with the trooper’s revolver after your skinny pal knocked him cold. You had gloves on and placed the revolver back in the trooper’s dead hand. But you made sure that Sam’s hand was placed near his shoulder when you shot him. You know about paraffin tests and knew that a close range shot would spray his hand with nitrate that would appear in the tests. “But you never figured that the dead trooper’s hands would be tested. You stuck the automatic you killed the trooper with in Sam’s unconscious hand and got his prints on it. And you thought you had a perfect frame-up of the witness to the murder.” “T’ll tell everything! Give me a chance! I didn’t do it It was my partner!—” But Emery was walking rapidly out on the quaking man with the mustache. “Hey!” Larski shouted. “Whereinellya running, Bob?” There were tears of joy in Bob Emery’s eyes, “I’m on my way to tell Sam that he’s going to be the godfather to Big Andy’s first baby.” EORNICLOOOLK< (E@)