5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

DANCE, PRETTY MAIDEN 39 the gravel path. A _ series of sharp knocks sounded on the door, and a crisp voice called, “Senora Baeza? It is In- spector Ollin from Frontera. May I trouble you for a few moments?” The old woman looked at the youth. His eyes were intent; a finger lay across his lips. “Go. But do not say that either I, nor Kern, have been here. Leave Kern to me.” He backed out the door and closed it as the old lady started toward the front of the house. [’ THE bedroom, Kern gulped his wine, leaned back on a gaudy satin cushion, and watched the ceiling revolve pleasantly like a blank grey disc on a phonograph’s turntable. He heard the ear stop outside, heard a mutter of voices from the front room, but was not greatly concerned. The wine had set up a pleasant glow in his veins. He recalled that his reception had been friendly. Soon he would ask the old woman to call Liria, and all the unpleasantness would be settled. But just then, amidst the bumbling mutter from the front room, a single word detached itself. It was ‘“‘Liria,” uttered in a gruff, distinctly American voice. . ~ Kern swung his legs off the bed and bent a weaving course toward the front window. Through its screen of vines he saw acar out front. It was a gray sedan and bore the letters: Frontera Police Department. Kern blinked and stiffened. What did this mean? Had Liria got drunk, too, and got herself into some trouble? He moved slowly back into the room, a sudden resolve stiffening the weak joints of his knees. If Liria was in some trouble, he was certainly going to stand by her. He only hoped to would be able to speak soberly to the officer. He started toward the door. A sharp hiss that stung his nerves like a rattlesnake’s buzzer, spun him around. At the back window, he saw a face, dark and young, with coarse black hair above a narrow forehead and bared teeth of unimaginable whiteness. “Do not be a fool, Kern!” a cold whis- per warned. “Who are you?” Kern gasped. “A friend. Better vou keep. your voice down, and better you come out through this window—pronto!” “Come out? What for?” The brown face glared at him in dis- gust. ”“You play crazy, amigo? You got newspaper there. Can’t you not read?” Kern had forgotten the folded news- paper he had thrust into his pocket without a glance. Now he snatched it out, stared. His eyes fastened on a head- line near the bottom of the page. RICH SCHOLAR waitin IN DEATH OF IR His vision swam; his flesh seemed to freeze. Girl? What girl? But some- thing inside him whispered, “You know. It will come back to you when you get the nerve to face it!” He found himself moving in what seemed a dream but was actually a series of quick reflexes that carried him to the window, and. over the sill, and into a patio that was shielded by a wall from the front of the house. Then he was wordlessly following the dark youth who led the way across a litter of crusty palm fronds and into the shelter of a dry irrigation ditch. They came to a water gate, crawled through it, and splashed along in a shal- low stream until they reached a spot where dense salt cedars masked the canal bank. They climbed out, and there, in a grove of cottonwoods, was a long, rakish yellow car. Staggering with ex- haustion, Kern lurched through the door that was opened for him and collapsed in the front seat. Almost at once, the youth was beside him, and the motor was roaring. A pleasant rush of wind hit Kern’s face, and he saw the land- scape speeding past. “Hey, where are we going? Who are you, anyhow ?” The dark head turned; white teeth and black eyes flashed Kern a smile. “Fausto Azul, at your service, Sefor. Joost call me Leetle Boy Blue. I take you to a safe place to hide. Then we do the talking. You want dreenk?” The hand thrust toward Kern prof- fered a bottle. Tequila. Kern winced. But he took it. His heart was pounding now like a broken piston. He thumbed the cord out, tilted the bottle, and the comiclooolks (CO) mM