5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

THE KILLER FROM BUFFALO “Better start somewhere else.” He became absorbed in the refracted light from the stone on his index finger. “Never heard of the guy until he was dead.” Jason turned his attention to a portly, bald-headed man who wanted to trade a twenty-dollar bill for silver dollars. “Aren’t many places in town a fellow could go,” Tony said mildly. “Thought maybe he dropped in here. Big fellow about your build, wearing a green cor- duroy jacket with leather pockets and elbow patches, denim pants and a flat fedora.” The portly man glanced at Tony. “You talking about that tramp who murdered Jonathan Larson?” Tony eyed the man deliberately. “The kid accused of it, yes.” “He was around here a couple of days. Getting the lay of the land, I guess. Tuesday night he made thirty bucks riding me on a hot roll, then backed out of the game. The next after- noon I saw him drop five and quit. You’d think a guy that cagey with money wouldn’t need to stick anyone up, but that same night he robbed the Mis- sourt Cafe.” He shifted his attention to the bearded man. “You remember the guy he is talking of, Art. You gave him a letter to mail for you.” Jason’s face assumed an expression of sudden enlightenment. “Yeah, I re- member the guy now. Big fellow in his late twenties with a bent nose and a scar through one eyebrow. Looked like a hobo. Didn’t realize he was the one killed Larson.” “You gave him a letter to mail?” Tony asked. HE GAMBLER nodded and flicked a thumb in the direction of one of the tables. “Yeah. Wanted it to make the five o’clock mail train. He was standing there doing nothing, so I gave him a buck to run it over to the post office.” “Was he alone or with somebody ?” “Alone, I think,” Jason said. “Didn’t really notice.” Tony turned to the bald-headed man. “You notice?” “T think he was by himself. .. No, wait a minute. By himself Tuesday, 17 and I think he came in alone Wednes- day afternoon, but I saw him leave with George Erickson.” “The druggist, eh?” Tony said softly. “Thanks, mister.” Nodding curtly to the bearded man, he left the Blue Goose and crossed the square again to a store with:a sign on the window reading: Erickson’s Drugs and Sundries. The man who came from the pre- scription room to wait on Tony was as tall and heavy set as Art Jason. But there the resemblance ended. He had a soft, round face and large dark eyes like a woman’s, but a blunt jaw and square, hard mouth saved him from effeminacy. Instead of asking what Tony wanted, he questioned him silently with a direct, impersonal gaze. : “You George Erickson?” the little man asked. “Yes.” “My name is Tony Ransome. With the Buffalo police. Got Chief Murphy’s okay to ask questions about the killing Wednesday night.” 6V ag?” “Understand you knew the guy who stuck up the Missouri Cafe.” The dark eyes stared straight into Tony’s face. “Afraid you’ve been mis- informed.” Tony shook his head. “You left the Blue Goose with him a few hours bhe- fore the robbery.” Erickson’s expression did not change. “Oh, that. We did leave at the same time, but we weren’t together.” “Witnesses say you were.” Tony esti- mated the man, then hazarded, “For quite a while.” “That’s not true,” Erickson said calmly. “We talked not more than a minute in front of the Blue Goose. Then I came back to the store and he went on to the bookshop.” “What you talk about?” “Nothing, really. I’d just met the man five minutes before. He asked Ae Short’s bookshop was and I told im.” “Ask where the post office was too?” The druggist shook his head. “Have a letter in his hand?” Tony asked. “A letter? Don’t remember any... MICLOO® (CO) (C(O)