5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

46 of bed, police summoned back into har- ness. The entire force of prowl cars was detailed to patrol the tougher sec-_ tions of town. It was, therefore, ironical that the third alarm should come from a swank section of the city. Here a housemaid, Ofelia Ramirez, had been murdered in her room in the servant’s quarters above the garage. Her throat also had been cut, and again the swift-moving killer had escaped unseen. Panic broke like a storm. The whole police force was called on duty, and the fire department stood by, armed. Whipped up by frenzied radio an- nouncers, vigilante groups were forme¢ ing, and already three people had re- ceived minor wounds from accidentally discharged firearms. Returning to headquarters from the scene of the third tragedy, Inspector Ol- lin, haggard and exhausted but with his jaw still jutting sharply, walked right into a delegation composed of the mayor, the police commissioner, the editor of the leading newspaper, and a repre- sentative of the local clergy. “On whose advice did you play that recording over the radio?” the commis- sioner demanded without preliminaries. “On my own,” Ollin said, “and against advice. But you surely don’t believe that started this murder carnival?” “It sounds crazy,” the commisioner admitted, “but it did start after that broadcast. All these crimes resemble the one last night which happened when that music was first played. So the music seems the only connecting thread between these butcheries.” LLIN said, “That’s true. We don’t know if these girls even knew each other or not. They certainly weren’t known to run around together. There’s just one thing—” he paused—“‘“‘and that drags in the damned music again. Every one of these girls was a musician.” “Musician!”’ said the police commis- sioner. ‘Well, have you checked with local musical organizations?” “They didn’t belong to any union,” Ollin said. “They seem to have belonged to some sort of amateur group in Mon- teverde.”’ “Well, find out about it. Meanwhile, FIVE DETECTIVE NOVELS MAGAZINE we can’t take any further chances with this maniac, Kern. All evidence points to him, and you’d better order our men to shoot on sight— You don’t agree?” Ollin had looked down at the floor, frowning. Now he said, hesitantly, “It’s just that all the evidence is still circum- stantial, sir. All signs are against Kern. But he hasn’t been seen, and he hasn’t had a chance to speak’for himself. If he’s shot on sight, he never will.” “Well, what do you propose?” “There’s one thing,” Ollin said, “I’d like to try first. This fellow Prof. C. P. Siddington is Kern’s best friend, seems to have the most influence over him. Assuming Kern is deranged, some part of his mind might respond to an appeal from Siddington if the professor asks him to come in and surrender and prom- ises him a square deal.” The commissioner frowned. “Well, try it. But I warn you, Ollin, if this maniac gets away with another killing, your resignation will not just be in order, it’ll be required.” Brooding over that ultimatum, Ollin went to a telephone and called Sidding- ton’s apartment. Getting no answer, he decided to drive out to the place. But Siddington was not at home, and occupants of neighboring apartments sald he had not been in since leaving a little before dark. Evidently, Ollin con- cluded, the professor had not been home since that conference at headquarters. He left a request for him to call head- quarters when he did come in and started back. As he walked toward his car along a hedge-bordered path, Inspector Ollin passed within three feet of Hilary Kern. Crouched like a hunted beast behind the shrubbery, Kern was gripping the ob- sidian knife and fighting to control the Spasmodic rasping of his breath. His feverish eyes followed Ollin until the latter got into his car. Then he scuttled from hiding and watched the fading tail-light vanish down the street. When the police car failed to turn at the street which led to Edna Ferry’s boarding house, Kern drew a breath of relief. Motherly Mrs. Magruder tapped at Edna Ferry’s bedroom door, then opened it and stepped inside. The girl, seated near the window, under a shaded CoOnniclooo S (Cl! QO)