5 Detective Novels Magazine — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

BLOOD, SWEAT AND JEERS something like a groan. He tried the door. It was unlocked. As it traveled open, the sound was louder. He’d been right. Someone was in pain. Ellen. He could barely make her out in the pale green glow which filtered through the room’s one window from the neon sign over the court. She was lying, fully clothed, on the bed, one arm across her face as though she were defending her- self. He went to the side of the bed, ‘touched her, saying, “What’s the matter, honey ?” : She half bolted off the bed, her eyes wide, her mouth open to scream. He held her where she was, said gently, “Hey, take it easy, honey. This is Kelly. Remember me? I just came by to make sure you were all right, and I—” Wik HIS free hand, he snapped on the bed lamp so she’d be able to see him. It worked both ways. He could see her, too. The swollen place on her jaw, a dark bruise spreading under the skin. He heard a movement in the doorway to the kitchenette of the cabin, looked up. The door was crowded. Coroner Lie- bert and a couple of other guys he rec- ognized—Sheriff Tufts’ deputy, the guy with the black scowl, and Jack Terry. The coroner held a gun in his fat little hand. So did the deputy. Kelly didn’t move. His grip on Ellen’s shoulder tightened. He said, “What’re you doing with the heater, Coroner— trying to build your clientele?” Liebert’s round face split in a grin. “You catch on fast, Wilson.” Kelly shook his head. He could feel Ellen trembling. “No, I don’t,” he re- marked grimly. “I’m about as thick as an ex-cop can get. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have the drop on me.” ‘Jack Terry came over and shook Kelly down for the .38 on his shoulder clip. There wasn’t a lot Kelly could do about it, except taunt, “You’re off your beat, aren’t you, Terry? This is a long way from Hollywood Boulevard and Vine Street.” 25 “T’ll find my way back, chum,” Terry smirked. Kelly Wilson forced himself to smile at Ellen. “Well, honey,” he said, “it looks like you win the consolation prize. You were right. Your sister was mur- dered, and I suspect these gentlemen can tell you all about it.” A dry sob shook the girl. “They tried to make me tell them where you were,” she said. “When I said I didn’t know, they—-they hit me.” “I’m surprised they didn’t burn your feet with cigarettes,” commented Kelly. “They’re that kind of people.” Coroner Liebert waved his gun at them impatiently. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.” Kelly drew Ellen off the bed. “You heard what the man said.” “Wh-where,” she stammered, they taking us?” “Just out for a ride, Ellen,” Jack Terry leered. “A moonlight ride.” Kelly and Ellen were herded into her car. Kelly was told to drive. Jack Terry got in beside them, his gun covering them, while Tufts’ deputy squatted on the seat behind them. He held a gun at the back of Kelly’s neck. The cor- oner walked on alone. Terry directed Wilson to drive around the block, stop in the dark side street. Kelly made out the coroner’s waddling form in the shadows, saw him get in a parked car, start it. He was ordered to follow the coroner. They drove away from town on the main highway. The desert air was cold and dry. The moonlight seemed to coat the rugged landscape, like frosting. They stopped once, at a little roadside bar. The coroner went in, was out again a few minutes later. This time, Kelly drove lead, with the coroner following him, Jack Terry was still giving orders. The front seat was. crowded. Kelly could feel Ellen’s elbow pressed into his side. She had stopped shaking, felt al- most like a dead weight against him. There was no warmth to her body. He tried to think of something en- 66 are GOmMiGcbdooks