Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 127: what you’re looking at

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

of sight from time to time. The car was chugging along at the forty- five and fifty I held. I glanced at the blonde, but if she knew she gave no sign. We scooted along mile after mile, the endless strip of gray concrete passing under us. The car with all the chrome was still. with us when Lone Pine loomed ahead. “Matt—is anything wrong?” “Wrong?” I'd. said it too quickly. Maggie gave me a reproachful look. “You haven’t said much lately,” she said. I forced a big grin. “Just think- ing about another cup of coffee or. maybe something cool. Let’s stop in Lone Pine.” She nodded. I let the needle drop. to forty; the car behind showed and began to close.. Then it held off and stayed its distance. I shaved another five off the speed, but the driver was wised up and cut down, way down. He stayed out of sight a little while. In Lone Pine’I would . know. for sure. I wheeled into the first place we came to and we got down for cokes. She watched the truck as we drank, but not me. I kept tab on the stretch of highway down which we had come. He didn’t show. He’d stayed out in the heat rather than run abreast of us in town. Now I could quit worrying about whether or not he was tag- ging us. I could start wondering, instead, who in hell it was and what he found so attractive about RETURN TRIP the stern of Matt Brady’s truck. On the way out Maggie read the town’s name. - “Lone Pine. Is Lue Pine an- other hot one, Matt?” “Sure. They’re all hot on this run. Will be until we hit the coast.” For the next banded miles, I dealt: light conversation off the top of my mind—the serious business at hand being right under the sur- face all the while. I couldn’t forget that-car that had been on my tail. I had to know something about - what was going on. I couldn’t ask the girl; she could be in the thing - or out, but either way it wouldn’t help to ask her. The four hundred. dollars I took from. Bart Akers’ ‘Silver King could be ruled out. If they had wanted the dough, they © could have forced matters last night in their office. In fact, they had been careful not to mention the return of their cash. I kept turning it over and over, and [| still hadn’t the remotest idea whether it was the Wirth or the Akers side of the puzzle back there. “Rest-stop, Maggie,” I said. “You can freshen up while.I take on oil. . Then Tl let = stand - oe duty.” -She nodded. Only this time I had no intention of keeping our little playmates out in the heat. This time I was going to let them come right on into town. 125 Gomichbooksteo The town of Mojave lay ahead.