5 Detective Novels Magazine — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

114 after hearing a dog growl in a field, and think he’s dead. You go on to Reeder’s. He comes to, wanders off in a daze, gets into Janson’s barn, tries to light a cigarette.” “It’s nice,” I said, “but I can’t buy it. First, he was dead. And his throat wasn’t just bloody, it was torn. Second, I did see something in the corn, and it wasn’t a dog. It was erect, man-high, and a lighter oval where the face was.” “You make it tough,” he sighed. “You pretty well narrow it down to a homi- cidal maniac. And we haven’t got any homicidal maniac around.” “You can’t tell by looking. Some of ’em act sane enough, except once in a while. We had a case like that in Chi- cago once. So help me, the guy was a department store Santa Claus.” AGNUS grunted. “Could be. Doesn’t it make you the best suspect, though, to look at it that way?” “Me? I didn’t even know Dave Otis?” “Insanity doesn’t need a motive. You just got through telling me I wouldn’t necessarily know a nut if I was talking to one. I admit it, so maybe I could be talking to one. You were in the fighting in Korea. Maybe it did something to you.” “It did,” I admitted. “But not that. So I’m a suspect now ?” “Drink up,” he said, “and don’t get tragic about it. Heck, you know the game if you’re a detective. Anybody’s a suspect who’s near the scene of a crime at the right time. There’s no evidence except that you were there. Lack of mo- tive doesn’t mean anything, because your own story makes it look like a mo- tiveless crime.” “Who would have a motive for killing Dave Otis?” “Nobody that I know of. Except may- be his wife. And she won’t even kill chickens. Dave had to do that for her.” “What reason did she have?” “Just that he drank and gambled plen- ty. He wasn’t a bad guy though. She could have done worse.” _ “He didn’t, by any chance, win yester- day? I mean, he wasn’t carrying a lot of dough?” “I don’t think so. That’s one of the things I’ve got to check. Another is FIVE DETECTIVE NOVELS MAGAZINE blood. I’m going out the other road, now, and excavate a bushel of gravel where you said the body was. I’ll turn it over to Doc Reynard and listen to him ee to come along?” id. Vi Tus time I looked around more thoroughly and found what I’d missed before. And the answer, incidentally, to why there’d been so little blood where I’d found the body. The blood was on the other side of the road, along the shoulder. There was a big oval blotch of earth there that was definitely darker than the area around it. We stood looking down at it. “This must be where he died, Sheriff,” I said. “The killer had already started to move him, had carried him twenty yards when he heard me coming and dropped him. He ran back, unencum- bered, to the shelter of the tall corn to see who was coming.” “Um,” said Magnus. “Could be. That looks like blood. Ill take some back to have Reynard test. But look—if it was a maniac, how come he didn’t attack you?” I shrugged. “You can’t predict what a nut will or won’t do.” He scooped some of the darkened earth into an envelope and folded the flap over carefully. “I’m going back to Janson’s farm now,” he said, “to give this to Doc. Want to come along or shall I drop you off in town on the way? I got to go back there to get on the other road.” “T’ll drop off,” I told him. “I’ve got some other things to do.” In the car I said, “Just occurred to me that I can relieve your mind on one count. I can eliminate one suspect for you.” “Who?” “Me,” I told him. “I’ve got an alibi.” “How come’? We don’t know when Dave was killed. Or do you?” “No,” I admitted. “That isn’t what I meant. But whoever put him in the barn set fire to the barn, and that wasn’t until after eleven o’clock. I’m covered from the time I got to Reeder’s around eight, until almost midnight. Must have been MICLOO (CO) S (C(O)