5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

DANCE, PRETTY MAIDEN machine off. He stood a moment, star- - ing at the lettering on the dise. He looked at Ollin. “You feel it?” “What?” “I don’t know. But a little more of that, and I’d be ready to wreck the joint. Whoever made that tune up was full of hashish. If you want to play it again, wait until I’m gone.” Ollin said, “It’s the heat, Charlie. We need rain.” He ran a finger under his collar, took out his notebook, and jotted down the writing on the disc’s center. He glanced at his summary of the infor- mation already obtained: Occupants of apt. across from girl’s absent on trip. In apt. on left down- stairs, weird music. heard playing around midnight. Don’t know when it stopped. Baeza girl often danced to such music. In apt. below victim’s, Harriet Pot- son, spinster, says music woke her at 12:15—came to abrupt stop a few min- utes later. Music described as “a lot of rene crazy wailing which ended with a cry like ‘whoopee,’ or ‘yipee.’ Then silenee. Heard no one leave. At 4:30, milkman saw blood running from under door, called police. None of these witnesses knew victim well. Man answering Kern’s descrip- tion seen there frequently. Other visi- ‘tors occasionally—no descriptions. In- formation about Kern obtained from . non-resident landlord. Kern not at the apt. where he lives. Place being watched. After the last entry, Ollin wrote: No known relatives of Kern. Check his acquaintances at Frontera College. He closed the notebook, went out and down the hall to the pay telephone booth. He called headquarters. “Any report on Kern yet?... No? Well, tell Harris to stand by. Keep after Kern. He may have crossed the river, but he carried no visa or pass- port—at least, none issued here—and can’t get far.. Contact all customs and immigration men who may have seen him cross in early hours. working the bars in Monteverde.” On an impulse he added, “Look for out-of- the-way places where stews weep in their morning tequila and they play Put a team | 33 woogie native music. Yeah, I’m go- ing out to Frontera College now.” pee MAN they were looking for sat on an iron bench in the little plaza across from the old bullet-pocked cathe- dral in Monteverde and fed sparrows with crumbs from a penny bun. Around him old men gossiped; burdened women coming from the mercado paused to rest; children played; bootblacks scampered and solicited; a rheumy-eyed drunk sagged in unabashed repose. The man was not listening to any music, except the junglelike hum from the crowded streets. He kept his feet tucked back under the bench because he had no shoes, and the grass made them less conspicuous. The man was pre- paring to think about something, but he was not ready for it to begin just yet. An hour ago, he had awakened from a deep, but not quite dreamless sleep, to find himself on a cot in a plaster- walled room, his clothing soggy and mud stained, his hat and shoes gone. At the time, nothing had interested him, except getting hold of the bottle which some instinct told him was under the cot. Having got it and gone through the punishing ritual of foreing the first drink down, he had found the second one comparatively easy. A third one had enabled him to get up, dust the worst of the dried mud from his clothes, and discover, to his surprise, that his wallet, with a considerable sum of money in it, had not been touched. Cheered by this, he had dared to cast a mental glance at the previous night. Things were fairly clear until about ten o’clock. After that they began to get hazy. Then came a complete blank. The man shifted on the bench and be- gan to re-orient himself. The drinks, plus the bun he had forced himself to eat, gave him stamina to face the out- standing fact which was that, after two years of sobriety, he had fallen off the wagon with a crash. But since he could not recall just what he had done, he decided to face immediate needs. Some shoes, some clean clothes, a cool place, preferably dim, a cool drink, preferably tall, and he would face the music. Oh, there was bound to be music to face. There always was. If it happened AMICLOOOLKS (C(O) (C(O) im