5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 123: what you’re looking at

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

IMMANUEL like anybody’d be feeling. Imagine the guy. I just can’t get over it.” “But Immanuel?” persisted Gomez. “That’s religion?” The office was quiet. Only the occa- sional buzz of the electric clock on the wall over the desk and the sporadic rasping that came from the loudspeaker on that same wall disturbed the silence between the two men. Gomez got up, went over to the door. “Where to now?” asked Hart suspi- ciously. “THeARD. «ose ‘eae sergeant with the thick-lensed glasses and the white smock looked up a little apologetically. “Was just about to bring it upstairs, Lieutenant. Photo boys just slipped it in to me. Homicide interested ?” Gomez picked up a glossy 8x 10 and examined it. “This the one killed out- side the bank?” : “Yeah. A young guy. Uh—Lieuten- ant? Sorry about that.” “What?” Gomez looked up from the photo, looked over at the other. “I just mean—well—uh—a religious sort of a guy, they say.” Gomez’ eyes tightened. “I just mean—” The sergeant smiled a friendly little smile. “I mean—uh— he was Mexican wasn’t he? A name like is ?” “So? A Mexican. So he was the first Mexican ever shot down?” It made the sergeant redden. “All right. For all I know, people make a practice knocking them off for break- fast. « only meant—” Gomez’ lips were curling as he went through the glass-paneled doors. He ae the photograph upstairs to homi- cide. “A good job,” he said to Captain Hart. Hart frowned. “Pix of the dead man,” said Gomez. “Got it down in the lab. A very good job. If it were not for the lights reflect- ing incorrectly from his eyeballs, you’d think he was still alive, still standing there outside the bank, wondering what was going on.” He stopped, smiled a little, dropped the photo on Hart’s desk. “Down there they feel like you do,” he said. 423 Hart’s mouth was a sudden grim line. ‘What the hell ails you, boy? Act like you ain’t got the feelings of a fish. I thought I’d heard everything, but this—” He spread his big hands, palms up, on the desk. Gomez leaned down. “One moment, Captain. This isn’t strictly any of homi- cide’s business, but there’s a little some- thing bothers me. This dead man. This José Ramirez.” He paused, then said softly, “He had a record, perhaps?” “What?” Hart nearly leaped from his chair. “What in the very blazing hell? You gone nuts?” Gomez sighed. He straightened up, shrugged his shoulders, pulled his trou- bled brown eyes from the captain. He turned, went to the window and stared at the thin traffic that was moving like small, multicolored bugs toward Reno a little farther to the north. He asked at last, “He had a wife, this man?” 3 “Yeah.” Hart’s teeth gritted. “That’s another thing. The guy was married. The department had to tell his widow.” “IT see.” Another moment of silence. Then at last Gomez said, “I should like to visit her. I should like to have you come with me.” “Huh? Look, Sammy—I mean, the per al already taken care of that.” Gomez turned around. “Still, I should like to visit her. Will you come?” Hart breathed heavily. He bit down on his lower lip, jerked his eyes side- wens at the big electrie clock on the wall. “T don’t like this, boy.” Silence. The clock buzzed with infi- nite patience as the moments paraded by. A hoarse rasp came abruptly from the built-in loudspeaker, abruptly died again. “All right,” Hart grunted. “Damn it, all right. But I don’t like it.” “Immanuel,” Gomez said quietly. “That bothers me... .” pos the bus up here, we can walk,” said Hart. “It’s that place on the right, three doors down. ok around, Gomez. A quiet apartment in a quiet neighborhood in a quiet section. Not too many lawns maybe, but—” he ANICLOOO (CO) S (C(O) mM