15 Story Detective, April 1950 — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

‘You Only Die Twice She passed the bottle, said, “Your turn.” “All right, Miss Toomey,” he said bit- terly. “You've bought yourself a story.” H* WENT back ten years for her—the day he married Laura. How he felt that day, every day Laura and he were together. How he’d done everything he could for her on the four thousand bucks the City paid him as a special investigator for the D.A, “1 didn’t mind going im hock for Laura,” he explained. “I thought it was my mission in life to keep her dressed like a movie star, show her off at Ciros and the Derby.”’ He filled Marilyn in on the political set- up at the tine—how a couple of factions were at each other’s throats with a grand jury in the middle. “It got so hot, some- body had to be fed to the wolves—and there sat George Ball. I was indicted for accepting bribes. from certain characters around town. “You don’t have to believe this, Mari- lyn, but I’d never taken a dime from any- one. However, when they got me in court, they sprung a joker. “Somebody discovered Laura had a private bank account with fifty grand in it. “I tried to shake the truth out of Laura—where she got it. She wouldn’t talk. Of course, they couldn’t make her testify against me—but the mere fact that the wife of a small-time investigator had banked fifty thousand dollars over six months convinced the jury there was something wrong somehow. “The D.A. dropped me, and Uncle Sam’s income tax boys caught me on the first bounce—shipped me to Alcatraz for tax evasion,” The bottle passed back and forth. George told Marilyn the rest of it, how Dick Casle had met him in San Francisco, brought him down here and put him to work at Cary Jensen’s Rodney Villa—the 89 killing, how he’d escaped from the hotel. He could see the dim, white glow of Marilyn's face looking at him, the flash of her teeth when she spoke. “This Laura, your ex-wife, she wouldn't be a tallish sort of gal, dark hair and brown eyes?” “You might say that—yeah.”’ “And her present husband—an exact opposite, blond, rangy with kind of dreamy blue eyes?” “T wouldn’t know about the dreamy part, but otherwise, yes. Why?” He heard Marilyn chuckle to herself. “Just playing a female hunch, George,” she said. “I may be wrong, but I think that name they registered under was phony.’ They sound like the Jud Parkers to me.” tia nS esa “T hope you'll forgive me for saying this, George, but if the police are looking for you it’s probably to pin a medal on. your manly chest.” “What do you mean?” “You said you’re certain the cops think you killed Laura Parker. I don’t know how much newspaper reading they let you do on The Rock, Johnny, but it’s pretty general knowledge that there are a lot of boys on the force who'll sleep better now that Laura isn’t going to be around. What you told me about the political set-up here ten years ago is very interesting. It was before my time—but, frankly, the situ- ation hasn’t changed. Only the characters. There’s another grand jury. I understand Laura and her husband had been playing with some rough citizens and had been subpoenaed to sing pretty for the people of California.” Ball nodded. “Thanks. That makes the whole thing add up, doesn’t it? All the questions I’d been asking myself. Why Casle went to San Francisco—why he took such a fat interest in my welfare— the job at the Rodney Villa—all of it. Even what looked like the world’s most crashing coincidence—that Laura and her COPMICLOO “S) (F@)