5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

104 to me till I said: “I told you I ought to run these mugs in. Hale tried to knock me off. Maybe you heard the shot.” Ryan dropped his glass. “When?” he blurted. “What shot? te With the wind and the way the room faced, a small bore gat might not be noticed. “Hale made a mistake,” I said. “He’s out in the sand, not being interviewed.” Borda straightened up. He spoke slow- ly, a little too carefully, and blinked. But he wasn’t crying. “So you went and done it, huh?” he muttered. “Come on and look,” I invited. I jerked my thumb toward the hall and herded them ahead of me. “He tried to shoot you, and you shot Are Ryan was saying. “My God! My 0 Lo EK DIDN’T seem to like violence. I guess that was why he had run out on something and tried to hide from his pals. It was all too cockeyed to be thought out, so I didn’t try. I just showed them the dummy in my room and pointed at the hole, halfway up on the window. Glass had fallen inside. Chunks of it lay on the sill because the drawn curtain had kept it from spatter- ing around. He thought it was me, only I was downstairs—and sober. I hollered at him, but he wouldn’t listen.” “So you knew he’d gun you!” Borda whispered. “IT had a hunch one of you would try.” “What for? Hell, we weren’t sore. You were just doing your job. You didn’t know.” “Okay. Listen, Borda. Even if you do find another gat, don’t try anything. Look at Hale first, out there in the sand.” I turned to the door. “Where are you going?” Ryan asked. “I’m phoning the cops. Being a detec- tive, I have to. From what I’ve seen since I’ve been here, you probably don’t want them around. That’s just too bad.” But I didn’t phone. I’m not an expert lineman, so I couldn’t. The black gadget box had been pried off the wall, and broken wires poked out. Someone had picked up the heavy tire iron off the desk FIVE DETECTIVE NOVELS MAGAZINE and smashed the phone with one blow. The iron was hefty, with a round handle : and a long blade. It had been shaped out of the spring leaf of a big car. The guy who used it had laid it back within a couple of inches of the dust marks that showed where it had been. Deliberate, all right. I noted a fresh smudge of grease on the wall near where the phone had been. Probably it came from the guy’s hip, in which case he was about as tall as me, Ryan, or Borda. Also, grains of greasy sand lay in the dust on the floor, but I couldn’t track the fellow past the crushed rock drive. He must have been squatting in the garage. In that case, he had watched me cool Hale. The phone had been okay when I’d come down for that job. Somebody was strictly neutral where Hale and I were concerned. When I went upstairs, Borda and Ryan were in Ryan’s room. “Wise guy, you figured I’d be cooled,” I said to Borda. “So you gummed up the phone so Ryan couldn’t squawk.” “What do you mean?” he demanded. I yanked him out of his chair. He stood blinking, wobbly and groggy. There wasn’t any grease smudge on his coat or his pants pocket. “Maybe you . didn’t do it,” I said. “Hale coulda done it,” he mumbled stupidly. “No go. The buzz box was okay when I went past it. Anyway, you and Ryan are material witnesses, and I’m still re- porting to the cops. I’m driving to a phone.” Borda didn’t care. He shrugged jerk- ily and stumbled down the hall. “What have they got on you?” I asked Ryan. “That’s my business,” he said almost defiantly. “Suit yourself. Here’s my guess. You’re holding out dough on Borda and the late Mr. Hale. A jane by the name of Claire spilled your hide-out.” “IT wish it had been the bearded prowler instead of Hale,” he retorted. “I’m not a skeet shooter. How much do you want for seventy-five bucks— Armageddon and the burning of Rome? Do you know that Valeria del Rio has been watching this dump with spy- glasses ?” MICLOO ‘@) (CO) KS nn