5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

MURDER IN FLORIDA when I got through, anyone from the ground would have sworn it was Honest John Carmody slumped in a chair, drunk as a fifth of good whisky will make any- one but a he-man. The huddle down the hall wasn’t over when I went out, barefooted, after lock- ing my door. For a second, I thought of going down the back stairs to listen under Ryan’s windows. But everyone was quiet, and those back stairs creaked like a wet fiddle. I wouldn’t risk it. Any- way, I had bigger business. This was a double play, you understand. Ryan might have a gun of his own stashed somewhere, and someone might steal it to do a bit of playing with me. Either I’d nip the shaggy man or else Borda or Hale. They weren’t wild. They didn’t have beards, and Ryan really had been surprised when he’d seen them. I wasn’t even trying to get the score, it was so complicated. The only sure thing was that Ryan’s two pals wouldn’t knock him off until I was buried in the sand | dunes. | Naturally Ryan must be some sort of crook. But he was human, and a nice guy, Nee maybe just one mistake to his credit. Chapter III HE grease rack wasn’t a comfort- able place to squat. The wind and concrete made me plenty unhappy, and I couldn’t hear a thing from upstairs. Like I said, Ryan’s room and the Hale- Borda cell faced the other way. But where I sat, it was easy to watch the angle from where the dummy upstairs was nicely visible. 7 Later, I heard enough to think some- one was parking his crullers. Someone else was snoring or muttering. It wasn’t long after when I got a hunch that some- one was prowling around from the back of the station. The moon wasn’t high enough to help, and the wind killed little sounds. The dunes and brush threw tricky shadows. I finally caught sight of the fellow, but I couldn’t even guess whether it was Borda, Hale, or the un- identified prowler. Whoever he was, he had a gun, a long- barreled job. Also, he had a forked stick. It’s surprising how neat you can 103 make a long-range shot with a revolver if you have a gun rest. The gent with the artillery was across the road now, right where my dummy made a nice target. That was getting personal, so I had to cut in, quick. If the boys upstairs heard the shot and figured I was cooled, there was no telling what’d happen to Ryan. But a guy can’t be everywhere at once. , I edged for the gas pump and gained a few yards. Though he had murder in his heart, I still didn’t want to pop him off. He was fidgeting around, getting set. I could tell that from the off-and-on glint of the blued barrel which had worn spots that picked up the light. When I gained another few yards, there wasn’t much time left. He was too intent to notice what was happening behind him. “Put it away!” I hollered. Just then, he shot, and a window splat- tered behind me. But he had heard me sing out. He jumped and cursed, just startled enough to get rattled. I saw the gun shift a bit, but the first flash had exposed his position. He shot at the sound when I moved. That was a mis- take, so I let him have it. You can’t talk to a guy who thinks he’s killed a drunk and then finds out he had an audience. He was still kicking a little when I got to him. The gun was a long-barreled Luger, almost as accurate as a rifle. The guy was Hale. Well, that was a nice start. Borda would feel different about his business with Ryan. So would Valeria del Rio and the shaggy man. Hale, I began to figure, must have had a gat stashed in the car. Like a dummy, I hadn’t frisked the bus. A fellow sometimes get absent-minded, so I went up to talk to Ryan before I forgot something else. When I got back to the second floor, Borda staggered out of the bathroom and into the hall. Getting so sloppy drunk in such a short time meant that he’d tried to do a week’s drinking in an hour or two. Maybe he was celebrating my death. The bleary look he gave me when he stumbled unceremoniously to- ward Ryan’s room left me wondering. Ryan was long-faced and cold sober. He sat twiddling a glass and staring at the floor. He didn’t look up when Borda came in and he didn’t pay any attention MICLOOLKS (C(O) (C(O)