5 Detective Novels Magazine — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

84 killing off Harrigan? The detective could make no sense out of it. “Where’d you find this?” he asked. “In a case on your desk,” said Thom- as. “Sterns searched the joint after I brought you down.” Harrigan was thinking rapidly. The person who had stolen the gun must have returned it while he was asleep. He re- viewed the people who had been in his apartment—Hilly Wright, the girl, Scott. Any one of them could have taken the gun, but to have returned it to the desk was another matter. They would have had to have a key. Well, his keys were missing. Hilly Wright must have had one—un- less he had been telling the truth about finding the door unlocked when Harri- gan got back from Rinkle’s and found him and Scarface waiting in the apart- ment. Someone must have followed him to Rinkle’s house. He knew that now and cursed himself for his carelessness. But cursing himself wouldn’t help. He had to do something and he couldn’t if he was going to be cooped up in a cell. HE GLANCED down again at the au- tomatic and was surprised to see that the clip was in place. Thomas had been in such a hurry to get up to the D.A.’s office that he hadn’t removed it. Harrigan pumped a shell into the chamber before they knew what he was doing. “Here!”? Thomas said, too late. Harri- gan had backed away, covering them both. “On your feet,” he told the district at- torney, “and keep still. You, Thomas, turn around and face the wall.” He took the deputy’s gun. Then slip- ping both automatics into his pocket, he marched the men into the hall and down to the elevator. It was still early, and they saw no one save the elevator oper- ator. When they reached the street, he made them get into Thomas’ car and drive out FIVE DETECTIVE NOVELS MAGAZINE North Broadway and into Elysian Park. He left them in the most deserted spot he could find. Then he drove back to Vermont Avenue and parked the car on a side street. He took a bus across town to Tenth and then a second bus, then doubled back and caught a Hollywood Boulevard car. When he got out, Harrigan called his landlady and told her he had lost his keys. He asked her to watch his apart- ment closely and let no one in. Then he went to call on Wright. Hilly Wright lived on the top floor of a Vine Street apartment house. It was a swanky building and ordinarily no one of Wright’s social position would have been allowed to live there. But Wright owned the building, and the personnel were his personally chosen employees. Harrigan knew this and chose to enter through the basement garage. No one was on duty, as it was still too early for the morning attendant, and the night man had already gone home. Harrigan rode the automatic elevator to the top and went down the long hall. Years before he had served as a spe- cial guard at the opening of a Wright night club and had had occasion to come up here for orders. He paused before the door and gave the remembered sig- nal—two short rings and one long one. The door opened almost at once. Be- fore the scar-faced man could say any- thing, Harrigan shoved his automatic against the man’s belly. Silently he took the man’s gun. “Take me to Hilly,” he said tightly. Scarface hesitated. “He ain’t up yet.” “So what?” Harrigan wanted to know. “This is no social call.” Under the pressure of Harrigan’s gun the man turned, walked across the liv- ing room and through into a bedroom. Hilly Wright stirred out of sleep as they came in, rubbed his eyes and.sat up in startled surprise. “What’s this!” The gambler wore purple silk paja- mas edged with gold braid. Harrigan snickered, then became serious. CoOMmicooo@ CS