5 Detective Novels Magazine — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

62 that I haven’t an idea as to his where- abouts. I came up to see you about some- thing else. “Ray told the sheriff’s men that she was up on the roof at the time her hus- band was killed. I know that she was down in the maid’s apartment, but we can’t tell the police that for obvious rea- sons. “What I want to see is if, by switching the time around a little, we can’t make your alibi for her so strong that it will clear her at the hearing.” Harrigan puffed out his lips. “Look, Scott, I’m not getting sore, see, and the reason I’m not is because I figure that you’re in love with the gal. I can’t blame you for that, either, but I’m not lying about a thing like this. “TI figured at first that it was just a mean, low-down husband hounding a pretty wife, so I butted in. But then, here comes murder and musses things all up. No, pal, I’ve told my story once and it will have to stay that way. It’s too late to change, but I’ll help any other way I can.” Scott nodded. “I see your point and I can’t blame you. The only thing I ean do is thank you for the help you’ve given Ray already.” He rose to leave. Harrigan followed and escorted him out, making certain that the spring lock was in place and would snap shut. He fumbled in his pocket for his keys. They weren’t there, and he couldn’t remember what he had done with them. He shrugged and went to the desk. As he took his gun from the drawer, he glanced at the case where he kept a spare that had been given him by a friend. The case was empty. He swore under his breath. The boy who cleaned the apartment was always lifting things. He’d see the kid in the morning. Now for some sleep. V Tae sound of the apartment buzzer jarred him into full wakefulness. Shiv- FIVE DETECTIVE NOVELS MAGAZINE ering, he got into robe and slippers, caught up his gun and padded toward the entry. Outside it was just beginning to get light. He opened the door cautiously and blinked when he saw two men in the hall. One was a detective from the homicide bureau named Sterns; the other was Thomas. — Harrigan backed out of the way to let them in and closed the door. “You guys are up early.” “I haven’t been in bed,” Thomas said sourly. He implied that Harrigan was responsible for his sleepless state. Sterns peered around the apartment as if he expected to find Dillinger’s ghost hiding under a chair. Harrigan looked from one to -the other. He wasn’t in such a pleasant mood himself. “Well, let’s have it,” he said, trying to be patient. Sterns stopped searching the desk. “Know a guy named Rinkle?” Fear, like a cold knife, through Harrigan’s body. “Sure.” “He’s dead,” said Sterns, “and his wife figures that it’s your fault. She said you brought a kidnaped kid out there last night for them to keep. A couple of hours later, Rinkle heard a noise in the kid’s room, went in for a look and stopped a bullet with his belly. He didn’t live long after that.” . Slow anger was rising in Harrigan. With all his faults, Rinkle had been a friend. “And the kid?” he asked through his teeth. = “The kid’s gone,” Thomas put in, “and you've got yourself into a swell spot.” “Nuts.” “Nuts nothing.” Thomas was remem- bering his sleepless night. “You didn’t play the game with us. I know who that kid is. We’ve been asking questions since Rinkle was killed, and the maid at the apartment house talked. You’d better watch your step.” slashed MICLOOOKS @) (C@)