5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 108: what you’re looking at

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thing they want to know. Then come on around here. I’ll wait up.” I went back into Captain Nelson’s office. “It’s okay,” I told him. “I was hired by the Psychic Research Society. Or, by r. Norman Pollock, acting for the so- ciety. I was to spend the night in that house—2134 Greene Street—and report on AEH that happened—if anything Nelson chuckled. “And you say Pol- lock didn’t tell you the history of the house?” “No. He told me I’d be less likely to imagine things if I didn’t know the de- tails. I gathered from Pollock that he hadn’t considered this much of a job in itself, but he put me on it as a test of my nerve—or nerves. He had other work in mind.” “What kind of other work?” “The society—I hear it was organized recently to do a lot of investigating— mediums and reported phenomena of any sort. They expect to use a private detective. Me, I hope. Pollock said they needed a man who wasn’t afraid of ghosts and bogies—who wasn’t supersti- tious. I’m not and I didn’t see a ghost tonight. A tramp did fall down those stairs. The only answer is that I was mistaken in thinking he was dead. : “Can’t you tell whether a guy’s dead or not?” “I thought I could. Come to Hiinke of it, I still think he was dead.” “Give us a description of the guy. We'll make a check of the hospitals and the morgue, just in case.” — I gave him as good a description as I could. Nelson jotted it down. Feeling like a fool, 1 made my escape. Il F ORTUNATELY, Mr. Pollock’s place was only a dozen blocks from headquar- ters, so I walked. He had turned on the porch light and must have heard my footsteps, for he opened the door for me before I reached it. He led me into a small room, obvious- ly a den. “Sit down, Rice,” he said and picked up a decanter. “Like a highball strong or medium?” FIVE DETECTIVE NOVELS MAGAZINE “Sorry,” I told him, “but when I’m working, I never drink.” “Admirable sentiment, my boy. But let’s consider that you’re through work- ing for now. Wouldn’t it be rather anti- climactic for you to go back there to- night?” I grinned. “All right, but don’t make it too strong. I am going back there after we’ve finished talking. I want to ses around again and take my time at It; 3 “What would you expect to find?” “I don’t know, Mr. Pollock.” I took the drink he handed me and sipped §it appreciatively. “But I’m going to look through the house thoroughly and I’m going to walk a bit both ways along the tracks, particularly toward the yards. That fellow went somewhere.” “Are you sure?” “Am I sure? Oh, I see what you mean. Yes, I’m sure. I don’t believe in the supernatural.” “You gave me only the rough story over the phone,” he said. “Tell me every- thing that happened, from the time yeu entered the house.” I did, talking slowly, trying to remem- ber every little detail as well as I could. When I finished, he asked, “Was a a going by at the time you heard his a bb J I thought a minute. “I believe one had just gone by, but the sound had died away by the time he fell. The noise was startling and it came out of a silence.” ' “Then he could have entered and gone upstairs while that train was passing, and you wouldn’t have heard.” “I wouldn’t have heard unless he’d been pretty noisy about it. The tracks are just back of the house, and the whole place shook whenever a train passed.” “But if he’d walked around upstairs just before he actually fell, you’d have heard that. The train had gone on. He must have stood still there at the head of the stairs, for a minute or two. At any rate, during the time between the train’s passing and the—uh—dying away of the sound.” I nodded. “That seems in line,” I said. “He was undoubtedly drunk, possibly ill, as well. After negotiating the stairs, he could have stood a minute at the top, feeling dizzy or faint, unable to go on, CoOnniclooo S (C(O) im