All-Story Detective, October 1949 — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

100 he was back of all this; had made up the story about an escaped ape-man? Moss Gearhardt, supposedly in charge of the creature, but knowing the truth—was dead. He might have tried blackmail, or simply threatened to tell the truth. He knew it wasn’t an ape that had crept into the darkened kitchen and murdered Joe. His knife had ripped into cloth—he’d hear that tearing sound as long as he lived. A murderer was loose in Cyprus Creek, as cunning as a-beast, depending on mob hysteria and the gullibility of frightened people to mask his crimes, Cars and wagons were lined around the small church as they approached. He helped Ma up the rickety wooden steps. Inside, there was a buzz of excitement; people staring at them as he gripped Ma’s arm, keeping her upright. Mrs. Parker detached herself from a group and hurried over. ‘‘What’s wrong, ' Milt? Ma, you look done up. Let me help you.” “Joe’s dead,” Ma said heavily. “That —that ape got him. If I kin just set down for a spell.” Mrs. Parker listened in stunned amaze- ment. “You poor thing,” she turned, cupping her hand to her lips. “Folks, did you hear? The ape got another one—Joe Abbot. Where’s that fool sheriff?” She took Ma’s arm and they led her to one of the long seats. The crowd swarmed around them, asking innumer- able questions. Milt drew Mrs. Parker to one side. “Where’s Blane?” | “He’s supposed to orgariize a posse. Most of the men are here waiting for him. They brought Gearhardt’s body up to the undertaker’s a few minutes ago.” “Looks kinda funny—Blane not showin’ up at a time like this. Does any- body know why the lights went out?” “Tt -was a short or something,” she replied vaguely. “We were scared to death until the reverend got candles. The All-Story Detective town won’t draw a free breath unless that ape-man is caught.” He left her and circled among the men. Most of them were armed; a sprinkling of shot-guns and rifles, one or two re- volvers. They sidled up to him asking questions about Joe Abbot’s death, and he recounted the story sketchily. More and more people arrived at the church, whole families, grim and anxious-eyed. “The sheriff’s gonna have a_ busy night!”” A local farmer predicted. “And some of us better go to Abbot’s house and stay with the body.” Three of the men volunteered to do this, stamping out of the church in bleak silence, guns held ready. Milt went back to the knot of people surrounding Ma Abbot. She looked up and saw him. Her lips tiwsted bitterly. “You'll have to find somewhere else to stay from now on.” “Sure,” he agreed. moaned. “My poor Joe. ... Come back to Me. cia: s , He clenched his hands. “You'll be all right, won’t you, Ma?’” She swayed, lips moving wordlessly. The other women were staring at him, motioning him to leave. “She’s had a ter- rible shock,” Mrs. Parker soothed. “We’re all upset with these terrible things hap- pening, one after another... .” Reverend Bouth mounted his pulpit, waving his arms. “Listen men, I got word that Blane is at his office. He wants you down there. He says to bring what guns you may have. He advises the ladies to stay in the church tonight. That’s all!” EN swarmed toward the door. Milt joined them. The town awoke under their tramping feet. It was the most ex- citement Cyprus Creek had.experienced in years, They milled in front of the sheriff's office, some trickling inside. Milt edged in too, joined a line of men who were CONMIGC NOOK _.Her eyes glazed over again. She. C©