5 Detective Novels Magazine — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

I gave the dog a farewell pat and started walking, fast. Ahead of me I could see the sign of a drug store that was still open. I went in and called the Haverton Chronicle phone number. Mar- garet Singer would still be there, I knew, for this was press night for the weekly paper. Her voice answered. “This is Tommy Lederer, Aunt Mar- garet.” I could tell by the little gasp that she’d heard from Magnus. “Are you all right, Tommy?’ she asked. | “Do you think I’m a werewolf, Aunt Margaret?” “What did happen, Tommy ?” “Too much to tell over the phone,” I told her. “If you don’t string along with Magnus in thinking I’m a maniac, I'll come around and tell you. You might get a story out of it. But I don’t want Magnus to get me for an hour or two yet. Ill come if you promise not to phone him.” “I guess—Tommy, honestly, I just can’t believe what Ed Magnus told me, but according to him you were practical- ly caught in the act. You—you aren’t crazy, are you, Tommy ”” 7 “No,” I said. “But I’d say that, wouldn’t I, even if I were? It’s a silly question to ask.” “I see your point, Tommy.” She laughed a little scared laugh. “All right, Tommy. Come on around. Rap on the window. It won’t be a trap for you. As for me, I’ll take the gamble.” I was nearing the center of town now, so I took to the alleys again. I reached the alley back of the Chronicle office and rapped on the window. Margaret Singer opened it and stepped back. I saw she had a revolver in her hand, the .88 she’d offered to lend me that afternoon. CAME in through the window. She moved back against her desk. “Come over where it’s lighter, please,” she said. I moved into the light and stood there quietly while she looked into my face. She must have seen something, for she said, “Thank heaven,” and put the revolver back into the desk drawer. She went over and turned the key-in the door that led back to the composing room. “Sit down, Tommy. You look like the fall of Pompeii, but you’re not crazy. Tell me what happened.” I told her. “It sounds screwy,” she said, “but I believe you, now that I’ve seen you. What do you want me to do?” “First, tell me this: If you wanted a police dog in a hurry, and didn’t want to buy it in Haverton, where would you get it?” “T’d drive to Carterville, twenty miles. That’s the nearest town big enough to have a full-size pet shop. They might have police dog puppies in stock. Might even have an adult dog, if that’s what you mean.” “That’s what I mean. And suppose they didn’t have one?” “Man named Peterson lives just out- side Carterville and has a kennel. Breeds police dogs. I think the pet shop there buys puppies from him. If you offered enough, he could sell you one of his studs if he didn’t have anything else.” I nodded and said: “He has a phone, if he’s in business. But as a newspaper, you can get away with phoning him long distance, even at this time of night. Will you phone him and ask if he sold an adult dog today?” She picked up the phone. “If he sold one,” I said, “let me talk to him.” Five minutes later, we knew that he’d sold one, and I’d talked to him about it. When I put down the receiver, Aunt Margaret looked stunned. “Do you mean—” “Phone Magnus at his office. He’s probably there and letting the state po- lice do the leg work. Ask him exactly what he found there besides the bodies. I mean, particularly, what shape Reed- er’s experimental apparatus was in and whether his papers had been ran- sacked.” She called Magnus and talked to him for quite a while. Then she put the phone down and turned back to me. “Hashed. Papers burned and every radio hook-up torn apart, the tubes smashed, everything. Looked like a mad- man had been through the place.” Pieces of the puzzle were falling in 122 COmiclboooks @)