5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 106: what you’re looking at

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

106 of gas. Would you mind bringing some along? It’s not far.” It was no use telling her I had urgent business. Also, by being a Boy Scout, I might have a glance in her shack. “It’s going to be a bit tough. The boss’s car is down for a valve grind, and mine’s got a bum battery. But [ll walk it.” | “T hate to trouble you. [ll go back myself. I don’t mind.” That was baloney. She wouldn’t listen when I insisted I could find the bus myself. When she agreed to come along, I said: “You must’ve done some heavy driv- ing since this afternoon.” She flipped her hand to include the island and the mainland. “Oh, all over. I love Florida.” If Valeria had ever spoken Spanish, I was the Sultan of Sulu. Those Latin languages leave something on your tongue that you can’t get rid of. ee. things in Cuba?” I asked casu- ally. She sighed, looked up at me, and shook her head. Her eyes looked like she was heartbroken. “Mr. Ryan told you, didn’t he?” she replied. “Yeah, but not half enough.” She changed the subject when I said I was homesick for dear old Havana. That proved she was a phony. I’d never been there, either. Chapter IV ESS than a mile away, we found the Nile green convertible. That was the shortest mile I ever hoofed, and [ don’t like walking. They must have paved the highway with air or some- thing. Valeria hoped we’d get better ac- quainted when I took over the filling station. So I dumped the fuel in. She leaned over and opened the door. I drive a lot and, naturally, I always head for the wheel. Before I knew it, I was at the controls. “Say, can you beat that?” I said. “Like it was my own bus. I guess I was think- ing in that direction.” “Like it?” She smiled. “Plenty. And it’s in good company, FIVE DETECTIVE NOVELS MAGAZINE Miss del Rio.” “Valeria, please.” Well that made it cozy. I certainly didn’t boot that high-powered bus on the way back. I nosed it into her garage. “How about using your phone?” I[ asked. “Ours is out of kilter.” “Don’t you have the toughest luck!” I liked her laugh. Hearing it was like drinking a case of champagne. “Come right in.” ‘The bungalow had regular beach cot- tage furnishings, wicker and this and that, mainly velours-upholstered. But everything was as clean as if she hada dozen servants per square yard. Before I got into the living room, I knew there wasn’t a shaggy man hanging out there. It wasn’t that there were no men’s hats on the rack. It just didn’t have that messed-up look. The only thing out of place was a pair of field glasses on the window seat which faced Ryan’s Last Stop Service Station. I got just one glance, but it was enough. They were twelve-power Zeiss, and the lenses were big enough for night work. “Nice place you got here, Val,’ I said admiringly. “Simple, but I love it.” I stepped to the phone. Then I learned a few things more, such as why Valeria had given me the wheel of her car. She wanted both her hands free, and not to put her arms around me. Her idea was to poke a gat into my ribs. It’d been in her pocketbook all the time. Naturally she didn’t know I was going to walk right in to phone. “Never mind that call,” she ordered. “Just wait and don’t move.” “I guess you'd fire,” I said sarcastical- ly but I was bluffing. She meant busi- ness. “Of course, I would. I’m alone, and you might be a prowler.” “Nice field glasses you got,” I led off, making small talk. “Great for watching Cuban ships offshore, huh?” She didn’t answer. But I got a glimpse of her, reflected in one of those poly- chrome mirrors. It was streaked, though not enough to spoil the view. Her make- up was redder than ever against that white face, and her mouth was too thin to look kissable any more. Valeria was waiting for something to happen, and it MICLOOKS (C(O) (C(O)