5 Detective Novels Magazine — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

28 They walked carefully, their hands folded behind their heads. In another second, Kelly saw why they were minc- ing along like that. The old man, Baron Starr, was be- hind them, carrying a large automatic. As they pulled abreast of Kelly, Lucky sang out for the sheriff: “Tufts, where the devil are you?” Kelly sighed, nudged the sheriff. “Go ahead,” he muttered. “Tell him. .. .” A couple of long pulls on a bottle of Bourbon didn’t stop Kelly’s teeth from chattering, but they helped. He waited until he had paddled across the irriga- tion ditch, brought Ellen out, before he had stopped them. He watched Tufts in the beam of the flashlight, pumping water out of the girl. She didn’t respond right away, but Tufts’ silver-blond hair kept bobbing. Then she gagged, and Kelly stopped nursing his drink, had a real one. Jack Terry and the deputy were sit- ting on the ground under Starr’s gun, very good boys indeed. They would have been very dead boys, if they had wanted it that way. Kelly took the bottle down from his lips, saving some for Ellen and the sher- iff. He grinned at the old man. “Glad you decided to come to the party, Mr. Starr,” he said. “Would you mind telling me what made you change your mind? I thought you were satisfied with the status quo.” Baron Starr snorted. “I didn’t say that. I told you to forget it. I couldn’t say any more on the phone, but I knew this was too big for you. If I was going to save your foolish neck, I’d have to do something I hadn’t done for twenty years.” “What’s that?” Kelly wanted to know. “Get tough,” the old man replied. “I’ve been buying my way out of trouble for so long I’d almost forgotten how to use one of these things.” He indicated the gun with a slight wave of the weapon. “But not quite. What you told me about Doris being paid to make a play for me fitted everything else that had happened. FIVE DETECTIVE NOVELS MAGAZINE I knew who was behind all this, how far they’d go to stay out of sight. I spoiled it for them, a little. I went to see their Mr. Big.” “Who?” Kelly asked. “Myron Chase. He’s made a lot of money out of this desert, but he’s adamn | poor gambler. When he didn’t have any more real estate to sell to cover his poker debts, he cooked up a sweet little politi- cal racket with his stooge, the coroner. They formed a phony mining company. Any time there was a question about a death, which was something they could arrange handily, Myron would suggest the coroner might find in favor of acci- dental or natural causes if you’d buy a block of stock in their company.” Kelly shook his head. “How much did he sell you? I saw him at the Club the night after Doris was killed.” “Seventy-five grand,” the old man con- fessed sheepishly. “That’s very interesting,” Kelly said. “But I still don’t understand how you managed to turn up here when you did.” “After you called me, I telephoned Sheriff Tufts and had him meet me at Chase’s place. Myron was doing a fair job of wiggling, until the coroner called and told him he’d picked you and Ellen up, was taking you out here to fake an automobile accident. I was listening on the extension phone. That did it. Chase is waiting at his home—handcuffed to a grilled window in his study.” “What about the coroner? Did he get away?” “Maybe he thinks he did,” Sheriff Tufts grunted, between applying pres- sure to Ellen’s ribs and letting go. “He was in his car-when we drove up, made a getaway. I radioed ahead for road blocks. I hope he tries to run one. I told them to shoot to kill.” Ellen groaned, moved her arm. Kelly extended the bottle of Bourbon to the sheriff, said, “Maybe she could use some of this now.” Tufts grinned up at him. “I don’t know about her,” he said. “I know I could.” sees eee GoMmiGcbaoo <=) @)