5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

THIS WILL SLAY YOU see was on her dress. The red stain on the closet floor was more catsup. _“QOh-oh,” Fencer breathed. O’Hanna saw it, too. Leland Cobb’s shoes were aligned on a slanted shelf along the side of the closet, and in one- of the brown brogues was something that wasn’t a shoe-tree. O’Hanna carried that brogue into the bedroom, emptied it out onto the blot- ter on the desk there. “Know where this came from?” he asked Leland Cobb. Cobb peered at the implement — an ice-pick, five inches of wickedly sharp steel thinly filmed with a stain that wasn ’t catsup. ‘Cobb hiccoughed again, and shook his head. O’Hanna reached for the ivory- enameled phone on the desk. “Opera- tor, send Dr. Raymond up to 402. And put through a call for Sheriff Glee- son.” He _ stopped, swallowed, and stared at Cobb’s wife. Charlotte Cobb coming into the suite at this exact moment made a dramatic entrance.. But then, she’d probably never walked into a room in her adult life and not made a dramatic entrance. She couldn’t help it, with her white- skinned, raven-haired statuesque beau- ty. She had a complexion like vellum stationery, the eyes and hair drawn in startling, India-ink black. - “What in the world!” She stared at O’Hanna. She knew him, because of the many times Leland Cobb had been in hot water at San Alpa. “What in the world has he done now ?” NDICOTT was at her side. “Permit me.” The assistant manager snared Charlotte Cobb’s arm in solicitous fin- gers and steered her to a chair. “Be a brave little woman,” he begged asinine- _ ly. “Wait—lI’ll fetch you a glass of water.” He’d practically hauled Charlotte away from her escort by main force. The escort, who’d followed her in, stood near the door, open-mouthed. O’Hanna knew the guy slightly. He was Ward Tolan, a bond salesman who «spent an occasional week-end at San Alpa. Apparently he sold most of his bonds to women, wealthy ones who fell 65 for his somewhat aggressive good looks. : He had just a little bit too much jaw, and it unbalanced his face, gave him a definitely pugnacious appearance. One glance at that jaw, and any Hol- lywood casting director would have tabbed Ward Tolan for the villain of the piece. Tolan scowled. “Say, what is all this?” “Ves,” Charlotte Cobb worried, O’Hanna told her. “A playful prank, according to your husband. He says he dunked some catsup around here, try- ing to kid me that a murder had been committed.” Cobb’s- wife gasped. It’s all my fault!” Endicott almost fell over with the tumbler he was fetching from the bath- room. “Your fault?” he faltered. “I’m afraid it is.” She was a hell of a beautiful woman when she wanted to look appealing and _ conscience- stricken, as now. O’Hanna was leaving on his vacation. I mentioned .it to Leland. I said”—she hesitated—“wouldn’t it be too bad if something happened:so he couldn’t go. If a murder were committed in the ho- tel, for instance.” O’Hanna wondered at her. On every one of those previous occasions, he’d asked himself the same question: why she didn’t simply walk out on Leland Cobb? It couldn’t be for lack of other offers, considering her looks and her charm. It might have been some obscure, thwarted maternal instinct. Anyway, here she was — up to bat for the guy again. “That’s it,” she reproached herself. “T gave you the idea, didn’t I, darling?” Cobb peered at her stupidly. And Fencer laughed. “But who gave him the idea of stabbing this poor kid with his ice-pick ?” Leland Cobb reacted as if the agency dick had held a lighted match to his breath. He blew up. He staggered off his chair, making for Fred Fencer in sudden, howling rage... “Why, you dirty—” “Give me that.” Charlotte Cobb snatched the tumbler from the sur- prised Endicott, and sloshed its contents “I’m so sorry! “T’d heard that Mr. AMICLOOO (CO) S (C(O) mM