5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

MURDER IN FLORIDA me nor the Sultan of Sulu.” “Nuts! The D.A. doesn’t believe Lake.” “I do, Borda. You needed a weapon because Ryerson had a big knife. You ran up behind him and beaned him. Then you came back the same way you went. When you headed for your car, Lake tackled you.” “No good,” Borda said but he licked his lips, and his eyes narrowed. “I was in my room. I heard Lake mix with Ryerson. I watched it from my window. When I saw him drop the tire iron, I went down and tangled with him. You saw the fight.” Chapter VII OU can see what kind of mess I was trying to clear up. Each story sounded logical, and the breaks were against Lake. But I was ready for the payoff and praying Borda would bite so that Valeria would hear. I needed a wit- ness to anything he’d say when I popped it to him. He let out a deep breath. My story seemed to have caused a bit of strain. He was itching to use his gun but he was afraid. “There’s one bad slip the D.A. will see when I talk to him,” I said. “Go down and grab that tire iron as if you were going to slug me when I squat over the bonds. See what kind of fingerprints you'd leave. Then use that iron like you were trying to pry a phone off the wall. Same whorls and loops but in a different position, because your fingers will be spreading from a different grip.” “What about it?” he grated. “Just this. The prints on the iron in the D.A.’s office show that Lake couldn’t have made them while smashing the phone. The D.A. never tumbled because he had the case in a bag. Is that worth five grand for me to shut up?” “You dirty—” That slipped. He looked foolish, clenched his fists, then relaxed and smiled. “You’d try to put the bee on me for that? It ain’t worth a cent!” a I laughed right out, half turned to the oor. “You haven’t heard the rest. Wait till I go into my act.” I was talking over my shoulder as I headed for the stairs. “You made one more slip that’s an all-time high. It’s as good as hanging yourself.” 117 “What?” His snarl nearly made me jump and draw. “You said you were at your window, kind of leaning out and looking down, so you could see Lake cool off Ryerson. It all hangs on that. You saw him hit twice.” “Sure I did. Hell, don’t I have eyes? Wasn’t there a moon? ” I was almost to the ground now, and he’d come to the head of the steps. They creaked loudly under my weight. I still had my back turned, but I twisted my head a little to one side to watch him when I said: “The window’s open in your room, just like it was. I’m going to squat like Ryer- son did. You poke your head out and see if you can watch me. From that window, you couldn’t see him. The landing blocks the line of sight from up there!” “Huh!” His jaw sagged, and his hands opened and closed. “Yeah, you described the socking per- fectly, only you couldn’t see it from there. You could have from the bath but not from the one you pointed to. Is that worth five grand? It’s worth that much to Lake.” “You—you damned liar!” he yapped. ay squatting. Go to the window and ook.” He said something, kind of choked, but I didn’t answer. When he stumbled down the cross hall, his feet thumped like clods on a coffin in that empty house. I took the last couple of steps real slow, looking around intently for a glimpse of Valeria. The stairs, in case I’ve forgotten to mention it, just came out from the land- ing but hugged the wall. You get the picture. One of the coquina slabs of the little patio was well under the overhang of the stairs. I squatted with my back to the win- dow, the flashlight playing on the place where poor Ryerson had made his last stop. Borda was thumping across the floor of his room. I could count the steps. They stopped. Maybe I lost count, but he must have been at the sill. I hoped Valeria would not get hysterical and ruin it all. The payoff was hanging on exactly what Borda did and said when he looked out to see if my story was worth five grand. COnnicloo (a S (C@)