Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 121: what you’re looking at

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

danced between them. And sud- denly it didn’t matter that the pieces in this little. puzzle were badly scrambled. It didn’t matter that the beautiful blonde seemed to weave in and out among them like a bright strand in the pattern of a rag rug. We leaned toward each other at the same time, our lips pressing together, our arms locking around each other. “Matt—you shouldn’t have got- ten mixed up with me. Why did it have to be you, Matt?” I didn’t answer, just held her close. For a long time we were like that; then Maggie broke it and drew back. “We better take it easy, Matt,” she said. - “Sure, kid.” I got up and went to the open window and let the night air wash over me. When I turned back, I had things under control. I grinned. “You don’t have to work your passage south, Mag- gie. I'll be here as soon as Wirth clears my truck. Ten, maybe, or a little after. We'll be out of Reno by eleven; hit L. A. before mid- night sometime.” Then I found my cap, walked to the door, and opened it. But the beautiful card- sharp came over and put her hand on the door. She slipped in be- tween, the half-open door behind her, her hands.on my shoulders, “Te isn’t like that, Matt. I~” : “Suppose you tell me just how it is,’ I said. “There’s so much ‘J don’t know about—” She stood on tiptoe, her arms RETURN TRIP sliding all the way around my neck. I kissed her full on the mouth, her lips soft and trembling under mine. I heard her shoe touch the wood behind her. The door clicked shut. At eight in the morning I leaned against my truck in front of Jake Wirth’s Place and waited for the lord of the manor to show. I'd phoned, and he’d said he would be right down, and his voice had been something less than cordial. I drew on a cigarette and wondered if the gambling barons had a grape- vine, and if so was it fast enough to have taken the word to Jake about last night’s affair at the Sil- ver King. When I saw Wirth strid- ing along the street, his square jaw set in an even more rigid angle than usual, I knew he’d heard from Akers all right. Wirth looked at me with appre- hension. “Hell of a note, Brady,” he said briefly. Then he opened the door and we went in among the mirrors, etchings, and fresh paint. No carpets. “You managed to get into a peck of trouble after I left you yesterday, Brady.” “And how about you getting that’ truck unloaded, Wirth—” “We'll get to that. Now on that lousy double deal you and that blonde worked on Bart, we don’t like that kind. of thing in Reno, Brady. In fact, we don’t stand for it.”. He gave me a cold look, tossed his hat on the bare desk, js dee CONMIC OOO KS.C©