5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

HE’S IN THE DEATH HOUSE and a single chair. There was a framed photograph of a girl on the corner of the desk with an inscription written in the corner: Love to Petie I stared at the picture. It had been six years since I’d seen the original of that photograph. Then I looked away from it to Petie Smith. He was a big man with curly hair. His face was broad and square. He was staring savagely at a bunch of papers on his desk. I looked around and saw there was no other exit from the room, so whoever he’d been talking to a few min- utes before must have been on the phone. When he looked up, I saw that he had the coldest, grayest eyes that I’d ever seen. He smiled, but it was not from amusement, and it sent a shiver through me. His teeth had a lot of gold in them that glowed in the light. “So you’re Mike Foster,” he said and added about what everybody else said, “T’ve heard of you.” Everyone in Templeton seemed to have heard of me. I nodded and went into my act. I wanted a job. I told him where I’d worked, what I could do— He stopped me before I was half finished. : “Sorry, there isn’t any job.” I stared into those gray eyes and I suddenly knew that I was scared to death. He was the first man who had ever made me feel that way, and it bothered me. When I started for the door, he stopped me. “Tl hear that you’re a friend of the Garrons,” he said. This town was a regular sounding board. Everyone seemed to know every- thing about what was going on. I shook my head. “Wrong. A girl I’ve since heard is Judy Garron picked me up on the road and drove me into town. That’s all.” He looked at me with his stary eyes, and the skin at the back of my neck crawled. “Don’t make any mistakes,” he said. “Garron’s red-handed guilty. I know you’re called ‘Investigating Mike’ and that you eat murders, but there’s noth- ing you, Garron’s sister, or anyone else 83 can do to save him.” I wet my lips. I hadn’t known that Judy had a brother. “What’s this Garron guilty of?’ I asked. ‘‘Where is he?” The man behind the desk showed his gold teeth again as he smiled. “Charley Garron murdered a guy. He’s in the death house and he hangs tomorrow morning.” I whistled softly. Judy Garron hadn’t said a word about. her brother or her troubles. For that matter, why should she? I was a stranger to whom she’d given a ride. That was all. But I felt my interest climbing. Peyton’s death hadn’t stirred me. I knew nothing about the guy, had never seen him in life, and ‘besides, I’d sworn off murder puzzles. UT THIS was different. The girl had lodked nice, about as nice as anything I’d seen in a long, long time. If her brother was innocent— The man behind the desk must have read my mind. “Now wait, Foster,” he said quickly. “IT just got through telling you that this was none of your business and I meant it. We don’t like nosy guys around this town, and when I say ‘we’ I mean ‘me.’ Do you understand?” I understood all right, but I started to argue. He cut me short, quick. “IT mean just exactly what I said. If you aren’t out of town by tomorrow morning, I’ll see that it gets tough for you here. That’s all. Scram!” I started to say something, then I didn’t, for he had already picked up a fistful of papers from the desk and was going through them. I knew when to keep my mouth shut, and this was one of the times. I turned and left the room. As I went down the hall, I made sure that no one from Smith’s room was tailing me. Once on my own room, I locked the door and set about getting the package from the air shaft. I took a look first, then got the sheets and spread from the bed ana knotted them together into a rope. That done, I tied one end to the radiator pipe and crawled over the sill. It wasn’t as tough as it sounds. The brick wall was rough enough to get a toehold, and I let AMICLOOO@ (CO) <S) (C(O) mM