Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 137: what you’re looking at

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

the back wheels on my—” I moved just in time to avoid a sharp kick. The tall boy in the gray hat spoke again. “Over a year we've worked on this one, Brady. Wirth’s a cute one in more ways than making plates. He can plan, too, and he’s strictly an opportunist. Never lays it out way in advance so you can dig up a stoolie and set a trap. Not Wirth. He waits for something new and different to turn up, wheels into gear and ships the money out before you can get organized. Like you. He probably never thought about using you until—” “He didn’t,” I cut in. “He'd al- ready ordered the stuff taken off my truck, then changed his mind and kept me around town.” “Probably. We planted Maggie on him, had her wiggle into the setup, but Wirth trusted no one. The last time he shipped some- thing out he killed the patsy who did the carrying. We'll fry him for it if we can prove it. Either way, they’ve taken him into custody up north tonight. I radioed right after we lost you in San Fernando. They'll round up Akers too.” _ I thought about them knocking off the last one who’d made the stip and Maggie knowing it and : still going on. I thought about her cracking up for those few minutes just out of San Fernando. I under- stood now. My hand found hers. Tall Boy put a set of bony knuckles on her shoulder. “You've been under quite a strain, young lady!” he said and smiled. “We’ve called for a couple of rooms for you at the Biltmore, a little space where you can rest up and sort of collect yourself for a few days while we get the prosecution end of this thing rolling. I'll have one of the boys drive you over.” Her fingers tightened on mine a time or two. She caught my eye and gave me that slow half-wink. “Come to think of it,” I said, “T’'ll be going that way myself.” “Thanks, boss,” she told the tall fellow quickly. “I'll just let Matt run me over. I’m getting so I like trucks. They’re so—so—” Then he smiled and waved an arm as he turned away. We stepped out into the cool eve- ning and walked toward my rig. A shaft of moonlight caught us_ and cast a shadow on the walk. One shadow. We were close enough to make it do for the two of us. : RETURN TRIP 135 COPMICLOOCKSs(C©