5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 87: 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 that her brother wasn’t guilty. I wanted to talk to her. So I took a step forward, pushing the door open as I came. She didn’t try to stop me. She moved back, but she was still uncertain, still afraid. I shut the door and drew her package from my pocket. “Peyton was dead when I got there,” I told her. ‘‘The cops found him before I did.” “I know,” she said. “I heard. I—” Her voice was little more than a whis- per. Her eyes were on the package, and there was relief in them. “I was afraid the police had that.” I told her about the air chute and saw her eyes light up for an instant. Then they dulled again, and the fear was back in their depths. | “T’m sorry about the package,” I said, “but it wasn’t my fault. I spent part of that hundred you gave me. Here’s the rest of it.” “Never mind,” she said. “Keep it. Thank you.” She was clutching the package. I looked at her closely. “Look, Judy, I’m not trying to butt in, but I heard about your brother and—well, I’m not a detective or anything, but I—” “I know all about you,” she said. “Here’’—she drew out the note she had eriey Peyton and extended it—“read this.” I’d seen her write that note in the car before she gave me the package. I took it and read: This is Mike Foster. They call him “In- vestigating Mike” around. the oil towns. May- be he can help us. I looked up and saw that her cheeks were flushed. “Judy,” I asked, “why did you write this? Why didn’t you ask me to help directly ?” “I wanted Mr. Peyton’s judgment be- fore | asked you,” she said. “‘That’s why I asked you to deliver the package rather than deliver it myself.” “And now that Peyton’s dead ?” She wet her lips. “I don’t know.” The fear was back in her eyes. “I—I heard that you know Compton Worth and that you went up to see Petie Smith—”’ “Which doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t help you,” | said. “I brought the pack- 87 age back, didn’t I? Come on in here and let’s talk it over.” IV Baer was a door on the right, and I turned toward it. Judy tried to jump between me and the door, but I already had it open and was looking into the room beyond. It wasn’t the old-fashioned furniture which interested me. It was the body of a man. He ‘lay spra\.led grotesquely in the middle of a short-napped rug, dead. Kneeling, I saw that he’d been about sixty, with a fat red face and a double chin. Someone had shot him, the bullet striking through the vest, directly un- der the heart. I moved the coat to take a look at the wound, and as I did, some- thing gold glittered above the edge of the vest pocket. I reached down and pulled it out—a gold badge. I stared down at the letters which were raised and crowned with blue enamel. They read: “CHIEF.” The girl caught her breath sharply. She came slowly into the room. I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket, wiped the badge with it, and slid the bit of gold back into the dead man’s pocket. oe I straightened and turned to face er. “Look, Judy. This gets worse. What was he doing here? Who killed him?” She shook her head. “Honestly, Mike, I don’t know. I went over to see Mr. Doan at the newspaper office as soon as I heard that Mr. Peyton was dead, and—” : I started. ‘““Was Van Doan there?” “No. They told me he was at the hotel but they couldn’t reach him.” She was still clutching the package. “What’s in that package?” I asked, nodding toward it. . She hesitated. “You know that my brother is accused of shooting Mr. Shep- hard. Well, the only witness was a bookkeeper named Boring. Boring testi- fied that no one but my brother entered the office that night. Boring was work- ing in the reception room and on the stand he swore that about nine o’clock Charley came in and went directly to Shephard’s office. Then he said that COnNIElooOo S (S| QO) im