Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

him in a flat, unemotional voice. He was silent awhile, and the car left the outskirts of the city and began to climb. A sign flashed past. “Angeles Crest Highway.” “IT saw you on the pier,” he said. “Tt was you, wasn’t it? You pointed her out when she was about to jump. Why?” “T’ve been watching her. Ever since I got to town.” “Why? Why were you watching her?” “Call it morbid curiosity if you like. I -knew the state she was in. I knew what she might try to do. But I never really expected—this.” She drew her shoulders together and was silent. They went up steeply a long way. They passed the crest and began to drop. The hot breath of the desert blew in their faces. “We'll be there soon,” she said. They left the highway at last, and drove awhile with the lights switched off and only the pale starlight and the glow of paler sand to guide them. Somewhere far off the road they drew up at last, among Joshua trees _ that sighed noisily when the sound of the motor stopped. The stars were a blaze that filled the whole sky, infinitely many, powderings be- yond powderings of pale silver that crowded the spaces behind the bright, familiar stars. “Get out,” the woman said. “Now we dig.” : HERE LIES... He thought of balking. “Come on, get it over,” she said impatiently. “We're on the same side. ’'m covering up for, you. But you've got to help. We're very — lucky there’s a shovel in the car. We'll take turns.” “But why?” he demanded. “J don’t understand. Why?” She paused to look at him in the starlight. “Because if she had to die, at least some good can come of it. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t want it. But now it’s happened— well, she and I had a lot in com- mon.” A sardonic note sounded in the woman’s voice. “I couldn’t help her when she was alive. But now she’s dead, she can help me.” Briskly she turned away, glancing around the sandy clearing. “No- body will find her here. I know this desert pretty well. I grew up here. I can cover our tracks. But we'll have to dig deep. Let’s get started,” They dug very deep. Tough roots tried to stop them; rocks rang under the shovel. Sand kept run- ning back again into the grave un- til they had gone quite a way down. When the woman thought it was deep enough, she helped him bring Anne. Together they lowered her gently, in her bright summer dress, and laid her with the bad side of her face down upon the dark, curved cradle of | her grave. The woman put Anne’s handbag beside her and then stood up and dropped something small 13 COMMICLOOCKKS.E©