5 Detective Novels Magazine — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

ANGELS DIE HARD I grabbed Rich’s arm. “It’s Louie Claus. Let him come in. What harm can a few pictures do? One of you right on the job at the scene of the crime wouldn’t be bad publicity for the department.” Rich scratched his head and looked at me hard. Then he grunted and nodded. When Claus joined us he grinned at me. “Hi, Nick.” He was a little man, bow-legged, cheerful, seeming to bend under the 61 “What guy?” “The one who gave her the poison.” It was only an excuse. I didn’t expect Vara would tell even me. I knew how stubborn she was. But Rich fell for it. “Okay. I'll take you back when I go. But don’t try to doublecross me or chisel in, Nick. I’m going to watch you from now on. You got something on your mind.” It made me shiver a little the way he looked at me. TROUBLE ON THE DOUBLE Smugglers who try to get through at the Mexican border have been having twice as much trouble evading the law since the United States customs inspectors began using a special new device. It was designed for examining the underside of automobiles, which is a favorite spot for tucking away contraband. The gadget is equipped with both a spotlight and a mirror and is constructed so that it can easily be pushed under any conveyance. Metal rods hold the looking glass at an angle so that the officer can see ‘“‘what’s doing” without getting down on his hands and knees. The contrivance has reduced the examination time of the car bottoms from a full three minutes to a scant twenty seconds—and is definitely more accurate. weight of his big Speed Graphic. “Just a few shots inside the moider house is all I want,” he said. “Come downstairs, Rich,” I said. “Let Louie take you in the very room where Withersteen was poisoned.” Rich finally agreed. OX THE WAY down, walking behind him, I grabbed Louie’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “There’s a class photo on the desk up- stairs. Shoot it close up if you can. Don’t ask any questions. Give it to me later.” After Rich had allowed his picture to be taken he seemed to be in a better mood. I tackled him at once. “Let me go back to headquarters and talk to Vara a few minutes, Chief.” “What for? You seen her an hour ago.” “I can never see too much of her. Be- sides, I might be able to get the name of that guy.” —Bess Ritter Back at headquarters, I was allowed to go into the women’s cell block and talk to Vara. “Ten minues is all,” said Rich grump- ily. The two police matrons didn’t like it when the jailer told them I was to speak to Vara alone. To say that Vara was glad to see me is putting it mildly. Just that one hour in jail had made a big difference. There’s something final and sort of terrifying, I guess, about having a barred metal door clang behind you. She came straight into my arms, forgetting her slinky walk, forgetting everything except that she was a scared little girl and I was the man who loved her. “Oh, Nick! Nick, darling, I don’t like it. ’'m—I’m frightened. They really think I did it. Sometimes I almost won- der—” I put my hand over her lips. “Don’t say it! You didn’t. Don’t let them kid CORAICLO® (Cc S