5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

WINGS OF THE DARK ANGEL Helen Horton came over, laying a slim hand on his big arm. There was a tear in the sleeve, and the touch of her hand did things to him. “Are you all right?” she asked an- xiously. “No,” he growled, “I’m not all right. I’m plenty mad.” And to Horton, pouring liquid into a whisky glass, “Haven’t you got a bigger glass than that?” Horton chuckled and reached for a water tumbler. “Now here’s a man after my own heart. Do you know something, Mead? I can still get behind the wheel of a semitrailer Diesel outfit and show any of my three hundred-odd drivers a thing or two. Here.” Mead took the tumbler. He drained half of it, cleared his breath, and drained the other half. “That,” he said, “is more like it.” ORTON chuckled. “That is seventy proof. I suppose you know you’ve got twenty-five thousand dollars coming.” “I suppose you know that I’m going to take it, too,” Sam Mead told him, put- ting down the glass. “1’ve got to oil some runways.” Horton leoked almost startled. “Oil them, you say? Helen said you didn’t have much of an airport. Well, by a strange coincidence, I happen to have a finger in a big street-paving company back East. Just for the devil of it, Mead, I’m going to have equipment loaded on my trucks and do the job for you. Oh, don’t get me wrong—I’m not a generous man. But this business tonight has given me a new lease on life. Now that .it’s over, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He looked over at his daugh- _ ter. “What are you going to do—go back East and be a good girl?” “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I'd be a freak among my friends now, with 91 all this publicity. I’ll stick around while you pave the airport.” Footfalls, soft on the carpeting, came from behind. Sam Mead instinctively whirled, his nerves still not settled by the huge drink. Tobie Ralson and Billy came striding in. Tobie saw the now groaning figure on the floor, assumed that everything was in order, and grinned. “Well,” he said, “imagine meeting you here.” “How the devil did you get out?” Sam ee demanded. “Choo-Choo had the ey.” Tobie grinned again and flung an arm around the kid’s shoulders. “Billy did it. The little devil used to fool with locks in- his workshop. I’m promising him twenty hours of free flying time— Hey! Drinks!” He made for the now almost empty Habanero bottle. “So?” Horton said again to his daugh- ter. “You’re going to stay for a while?” She nodded. “Yes. It was half bore- dom that caused me to run away with Roy, Dad. But, Mister Big Man, I won’t be bored for a while. I’m going to ask Mead, here, to teach me to fly. As usual, you'll pay the bill.” Horton let go a snort. “All right, stay out here. And I hope to high heaven that he’s just fool enough to fall in love with you and marry you and take you off my hands.” : “He’s a little too ugly at sight,” she said calmly. “But he’d be a good antidote for a man like Roy. He looks just mean and tough enough to make a pass at me. Will you teach me to fly—Sam?” she asked. “Okay.” He nodded, the drink making him feel normal again. Some guys, he thought, get all the breaks. The Phantom and Muriel Havens at their best in MURDER’S AGENT, a novel by Robert Wallace in the Summer Issue of— THE PHANTOM DETECTIVE NOW ON SALE—25c PER COPY AT ALL STANDS! CoOnnicloool. (-) CO