Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 132: what you’re looking at

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

she threw herself across the cab, her arms going around me, her fingers digging into the flesh along my neck. I felt her body shudder. Hysterical sobs pulsed through her and big tears cascaded down the side of her face. Those bright red lips trembled and stayed half open, but never a sound came out, just the racking sobs as she clung to me. I slipped my free arm around her and _half-heartedly tried to ease the strain; in the back of my mind was the idea that this was just another trick—something else to keep Brady off balance. Only if this show wasn’t the real McCoy, the kid next to me was wasting her time. She could have been among the top-ten actresses. - When the panic died away, I sinaethed her hair. “Better now?” “Better, Matt.” “You could tell me about | ag said softly. : “Sometime. I will, Matt, some- time. But we’re close enough now. I can take a cab up to Mamie’s house from here. So if you'll let me ~ out, Matt, Pil—” “We'll talk about it, Maggie,” I grinned. An amber light flashed against us. I cruised into the in- tersection, swung right, and_ bar- reled away, leaving the black car in a block of tightly-packed cars. Next turn left, then a few more quick ones and I hit Victory Boul- evard. “Victory Boulevard!” She read it nice and clear, Go ahead, I 130° thought. Shout it right into the thing, for all the good it'll do you. “Why are we turning down Vic- tory Boulevard, Matt?” | “We're leaving your little play- mates behind, Maggie,” I said crisply. “I den’t know what’s go- ing on, but we can do without Joe and Varney riding our tail.” “We what?” “Look, Maggie. We’ve been to the ball, but it’s over. Midnight. Cinderella kicks off the glass slip- per.-We unmask. Brady -has: been more than a little dense this week end, but he’s coming out of it.” “Matt, I don’t understand—” I said, “I think you do, Maggie. You're in all the way. And: you’ve had quite a part to play. Phony blackjack game, the build-up when Bart Akers’ boys picked: us up, ev- erything—including: your little get- together with Joe back in the drug- store in San Fernando.” She slipped the catch on her handbag. Won’t this be cute, I thought, an empty gun in my ribs. Pll laugh in her face. Then: she closed the bag. We pulled up to a red light. “Matt— Please, Matt, let me se you about it. I—” The yellow top of a taxi came abreast. A door opened, then slammed shut. Varney jumped on our running board, opened ° the door, and slid in beside Maggie. “Don’t do anything foolish, Brady.” He brought out a service 45 the like of which I’d packed ALFRED HITCHCOCK’S MYSTERY MAGAZINE COMMICLOOCKS. ECO