5 Detective Novels Magazine — page 95: what you’re looking at

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

THE DAME FROM CHICAGO someone else. Maybe you.” “It wasn’t,” he denied. “It couldn’t have been me. I didn’t know anything, except that you wanted to sell me the necklace.” “You had my phone number,” she said in a steady but accusing tone. “It would have been easy for you to have checked and got the address.” “You’re just imagining things,” he said harshly. ‘I did no such thing.” “You know something, Malik?” she asked. “I didn’t just come in on you blind when I called with that necklace. I’m too smart for that. I wanted to know a lot about you before I offered you that neck- lace. And I found out plenty. For in- stance, there was a big job pulled on the Harnett Jewelry Company a couple of months ago. Harnett had a very wonder- ful emerald necklace on display. It was valued at two hundred grand. A mob walked in and took them for that em- erald necklace and shot down’a guard at the same time. You know about that, don’t you?” “Who doesn’t?” he countered. “It was headlined in the papers for days. But if you think I bought those emeralds from the mob, you’re crazy.” “Maybe you didn’t exactly have to - buy them,” she said with a faint smile. “Maybe you were a partner, a silent partner, on the job. Because it was no- ticed that you had been in Harnett’s a couple of times before the robbery on the pretense of selling them some small diamonds on which you said you were overstocked. It was also noticed that you came in and took a look at the emerald necklace when it first went on display. You looked everything over very care- fully. So you might easily have fingered the job for the mob.” “Ridiculous,” he sputtered. “I never did any—” “Then there was the Ridgeway pay- roll job,” she interrupted. “You went out to the Ridgeway plant shortly before that job and tried to get Ridgeway to buy a diamond bracelet for his wife. He hadn’t intimated he wanted to buy any- thing like that. You said you just had a hunch he might like it. That gave youa good chance to finger the plant for your mob. Then there was the job at the Jones Construction Company. You—’’. 95 “T’ve heard enough of this!” Malik shouted. “You can’t come in here and blackmail me, you little tramp. Get out! You can’t pin a thing on me.” “Oh, yes I can, Malik.” She raised her voice a little: “You were the only person in the world who could have tipped my address to a mob. You had my phone number. You checked in a cross index, got the address, phoned your pals, told them it would be a cinch to take the necklace away from me. The mob told me thev had phoned Chicago and got a line on me. Well, I did come from Chicago —but that was ten years ago. And if your mob had rea'ly got a line on me, they’d have avoided me like poison.” “You mean—that you’re a—dick?” Malik gasped. “Not a dick. Just the wife of a dick, Malik. My husband was the young guard from the Wales agency who was shot down by Big Jake’s mob in the Harnett robbery. He just barely pulled through. While he was fighting for his life, I made up my mind I'd try to do something. I talked to the regular detectives. They were suspicious of you. So we decided to smoke you out—and your mob, too. The Staunton job was faked, Malik, and your greed got the best of your judgment when you thought you could get those splendid gems for nothing. You put your mob on me. They got the necklace and ran into a flock of cops when they tried to leave the building. Lippy was the weak spot. We put the pressure on him. My husband accused him of firing the shot that sent him down. Lippy blew up and said it was Big Jake who did the shooting. Lippy is down at headquarters right now, dictating a full confession.” Malik’s left hand was down beneath the desk, pressing furiously on a button. The girl’s hand came up with a gun in it. “You’re wasting your time, Malik,” she told him. “Your bodyguard-clerk | isn’t answering any buttons. And it’s a pleasure for me to arrest you—as the brains of that dumb mob. You want to see my special commission before I blow my whistle?” Malik’s face was white, and he seemed to have shrunk a few inches. He opened his mouth wide, but no words came. Caroline Potter took a whistle from her purse, raised it to her lips, blew it shrilly. MICLOOKS (C(O)