All-Story Detective, October 1949 — page 102: what you’re looking at

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

102 All-Story said. Take t—it’s a .45, holster an’ all a.” Thanks, kid.” Milt buckled the gun around his waist. “You heard Blane say something about me before I got here? “TI couldn’t see who he was talkin’ to, but it was about the murder of Joe Abbot. He said he reckoned you didn’t have no alibi.” “Oh, he did.” “I heard him say he was gonna give you enough rope to hang yerself!”’ Milt’s lips tightened. Johnny gripped his arm. “It was the ape though, wasn’t it, Milt?” “No kid, it wasn’t the ape, and it wasn’t me! I’m going to try and find out a few things.” The way Blane looked at you when you were talking up to him—TI bet he thinks you’re a tough customer!”’ “Blane may be thinking a lot of things,” Milt said between his teeth, but I’m wonderin’ about that knife of his. He al- ways carries it, don’t he?” “Sure. Usually has it in a _ thong, looped to his belt.” “He hasn’t got it on a thong now.” “Maybe he lost it.” “And maybe he couldn’t reach high enough to whittle the end of a pitchfork handle—had to take it off.” Johnny put his head on one side, peer- ing up into Milt’s face. The end of the handle ?”’ “You keep your mouth shut, that’s all. ’'m going to Haleck’s—prove there never was an ape-man!” “Huh? Milt are you crazy? Moss Gearhardt told me all about Moe, one day. Joe Abbot was with us, in the beer parlor. Moss was gettin’ Joe drunk as usual.” Milt grabbed Johnny’s shoulder. “That’s right. It was always Moss that got Joe to drink. Joe might have straightened up and got a job if it hadn’t been for Moss. Moss was dirty that way. It tickled him Detective to see Joe staggerin’ around helpless. “Maybe Moss was murdered because he knew something. Maybe he told it to Joe—and Joe was murdered too. And maybe that something—?” “Was what you’re suggestin’. That no ape-man got loose—that there isn’t an ape-man.” “Yeh. It’s something to work on any- way.” Johnny twisted excitedly. ‘“Listen— there’s Bliss Haleck’s station wagon down the street. I heard him say he’s goin’ out and bring his wife back to the church. Why don’t we sneak in the back of it? We can get to the bottom of this ape business out there at his place?” “Good! But not you, Johnny. You try and find what they’ve done with that pitchfork—it’s evidence.” Johnny’s eyes shone bright. “You be careful—” Milt moved casually down the street. Men were drifting out of Blane’s office. Milt shifted the revolver on his hip, glancing around. No one seemed to be watching him. He climbed through one of the rear doors, closed it and lay down on the floor, shielded by a long seat. Shortly the front door opened on the curb side; Haleck climbed in and the car moved swiftly off. Five minutes later they turned into .a driveway. Haleck shut off the motor and leaped out. His steps echoed on a wooden porch; a door slammed. | Milt edged up cautiously, peering around. The car was in front of a two- storied house; windows making yellow blotches from the light within. He opened the door and climbed out. The sheds were scattered off in an oblique direction, and he moved that way—silently, drawing the revolver. The weight of it felt reassuring in his hand. He broke it open, making certain it was fully loaded. He turned the corner of a barn and came face to face with a caretaker. He GOMIGIOO ©