5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

HEADS—IT’S MURDER out into the wet night. It wasn’t raining, but the fog had settled, making it almost impossible to see the street lamps. He crept along. Every now and then a car, coming the other way, would loom out of the fog like some gigantic animal, its headlights staring like round, misty eyes. It took Prentiss the better part of an hour to cover the distance to his apart- ment. He parked the car in the garage behind the building, went up the rear tans and fumbled for the back-door ey. A silent figure slid out of the darkness and shoved a gun hard against his ribs. Sam Jeffries’ voice held a note of irri- tation. “So, you thought you could make monkeys out of us, huh?” Prentiss didn’t say anything, for there was nothing to say. He opened the door and stepped through into the dark kit- chen with Jeffries right behind him. The gun dug harder into Prentiss’s spine as he found the switch and clicked on the light. “How’d you happen to be here? 2?” he asked almost casually. “What'd you expect?” Jeffries said. “The pilot of that speedboat got me on the phone ten minutes after you landed. I’ve been waitin’ around here ever since. Where the hell have you been?” Prentiss shrugged. “Just coming home.” “All right—in there,” Jeffries said. He poked Prentiss ahead of him into the front room. When they reached it, he backed toward the door that open- ed into the apartment-house corridor, never taking his eyes from Prentiss. His gun was level, steady. With his free hand he fumbled behind him, found the door bolt, and unloosened it. Then he opened the door and whistled softly. Mr. Doe and Mr. Ray came in. Under the intense bright light they looked even more like old ivory than they had before. Prentiss thought they might have been pawns carved for a chess set but he knew these men were no pawns. They were big shots in their own mysterious racket. He made a little bow as they came in, a bow which Mr. Ray returned instinc- tively. 73 “This is a pleasure, gentlemen — a pleasure I had no right to expect.” “No doubt, Mr. Prentiss,” Ray hissed politely. “But I’m extremely glad you decided not to go on that trip in the submarine. After you had departed, we discovered that the head which you had so kindly given us in exchange for our ten thousand dollars was, after all, made of plaster. Imagine our consternation. “ Prentiss bowed again. “I can imagine, Mr. Ray.” _ His voice held deep irony, but Sam Jeffries’ voice was hoarse. “For Pete’s sake, cut out the etiquette. Listen, Prentiss, you’ve stalled all you can. You’ve got just one more chance to turn over the real head to us. If you don’t do—” He left the rest of the sen- tence unfinished. Prentiss nodded. “Mind if I take off my overcoat? It’s awfully hot in here.” Without waiting for permission, he started to unbutton the coat. Jeffries took a quick step forward. | “Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Don’t think I’m going to give you a chance to pull another fast one. Let’s have a look at your pockets first.” H* PATTED Prentiss expertly, then felt for a shoulder clip. Prentiss appeared nervous. He kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Jeff- ries ran his hand quickly over the top- coat pockets. When he felt the round outline of the little head, he stopped, drawing in his breath sharply. “What’s the matter?” Mr. Ray said. “What has happened, my friend ?” “For cripe’s sake, he’s got the head in his pocket! Can you imagine that? We figured he’d have it hid out some place careful. Instead, he goes walking around with it in his pocket. What a guy! Come on, get that coat off.” “Maybe it is another head of plaster,” Mr. Ray hissed. Jeffries screwed up his face ominously. “Is it? If you try to pull a fast one again, punk, I’ll blow you up so small that the pieces won’t even float down through the fog.” Prentiss shook his _ head, angry. “No such luck.” His voice had a bitter ring. “Unfortunately it’s the real head. looking MICLOO (C(O) SS (C(O)