5 Detective Novels Magazine — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

DEATH TAKES tell the police the whole truth. That’s where I was when my husband was mur- dered—in her room. I leave the baby there whenever I go out, but I couldn’t tell the police that or the court would have known where he was.” Harrigan nodded. “Was the maid there at the time?” he asked. She shook her head. “No, haven’t an alibi. talked to the maid on the phone a while ago. She knows that you are coming, and I’ve written a note. Here.” She thrust a folded piece of paper into his big hand. “Good luck, Mr. Harrigan, and God bless you.” He watched her go without making any effort either to speak or to stop her. When she had gone, he put on his hat and went down to the garage for his battered car. Fog made long fuzzy stringers around the street lamps as he drove from the garage and turned west. IV W HEN Harrigan entered the maid’s neat little room, he could see that she was nervous and upset. She heaved an audible sigh of relief as she put the blan- ket-wrapped, sleeping child into Harri- gan’s arms. “It’s worth my job,” she whispered as she let him out the back way, “if Mr. Gaudel ever finds out what I did.” “He won’t from me,” Harrigan as- sured her and walked to his car. As he laid the blanketed bundle on the seat, the baby stirred. Harrigan prayed the child would not wake up and begin to cry. He was afraid of babies and he was sweating profusely as he drove across town. South of Jefferson he turned into the driveway of a modest white stucco house. He went around to the rear and knocked heavily on the screen. A man’s sleepy I still voice came out of the darkness, demand- . ing to know who the hell he was and what the hell he wanted. “It’s Joe Harrigan,” he called. “Hur- rv uv. I’ve got a baby out here and from No one was there. I- NO HOLIDAY 79 the feel, I’d say that he needs attention.” A light came on inside the house and the kitchen door was opened. Al Rinkle and his wife Mary stared open-mouthed at Harrigan. “Gimme that,” said the woman and took the baby from his arms. Harrigan gladly gave up his bundle. Rinkle squinted at him thoughtfully. He was a small man, sandy-haired and non- descript. He worked for West Coast Agency occasionally when they needed an extra man, which was not often. The rest of the time he spent at odd jobs, picking up a dollar here or there where he could get it. “Who’s the kid?” Harrigan said shortly, “The less you know about it, Al, the better. You get fifty dollars a week for every week he’s here. I figured that Mary would know about kids, having two of her own.” He drew the wad of money from his pocket, separated two twenties and a ten and thrust them into Rinkle’s hand. The man was none too anxious to take it. : : “You didn’t kidnap it, did you?” Harrigan looked hurt. “Who, me? I wouldn’t do a thing like that.” “Well, I dunno,” Rinkle told him. “I don’t trust you, Joe Harrigan, and I don’t want any trouble.” “Did I ever get you into trouble?” Harrigan demanded. “That kid was put in my keeping, and right away I thought of you. I knew you could use the dough and—” “Don’t do me any favors,” Rinkle in- terrupted. “The last time you helped me, I did thirty days for contempt of court.” Harrigan grinned in spite of himself. “Could I help it if the judge had a tummy-ache that morning—” He was interrupted by a happy cry from the woman. “My but he’s cute,” she purred, as she dressed the child. The baby was cute, all right, with blond curls and blue eyes like its mother. He laughed and extended his arms to GOmiGbdooks