5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

MURDER IN FLORIDA sand in negotiable paper.” “Let’s get something else straight. You gave me just the room number, not your registered name. Who are you, anyway ?” “The name is Lake, like my uncle’s. Del Rio was camouflage. This embezzie- ment happened while I was in the East, at school. Ryerson had never seen me, so I furnished a front for Uncle George.” “Ryerson left him holding the bag?” HE nodded. “He gambled a lot, though we didn’t know it then. When it was discovered, the securities were missing from the partnership deposit box, the probate judge lifted the roof. Uncle George’s story wasn’t good enough to keep him out of jail. I did my best, but they sent him up. Naturally, the firm of Lake and Ryerson was finished. Everyone was sorry for poor Mr. Ryer- son, who left town. Nothing could be proved against him, you see.” “So you picked up the trail from Claire, Ryerson’s girl friend?” “That’s right,” Valeria answered. “That was when she came from Florida and began running around with a fellow named Hale. Claire Wayland didn’t know me and she let a few things slip. So when Uncle George got out, I helped him by taking that cottage near the service station. He lived in the little cel- lar room he dug under the house. The idea’ was to intimidate Ryerson until he ran out with his loot. Then Uncle George was going to catch him. “You see, my uncle couldn’t prove Ryerson had the bonds until he caught him with them. An ex-convict’s sus- picions aren’t well received. The reason I picked up the briefcase and ran was to avoid the chance of a slip. No matter what happened later, Uncle George’s reputation would be clear. He wanted it that way.” “Only he ends up looking a murder rap in the eye. ” That shook her but only for a second. “He’d rather be accused of killing a thief than have people think he had robbed me!” she retorted. I could understand that. “How about Hale and Borda?” I asked. “Hale, I think, is the one who led Ryerson into gambling on credit, then 113 blackmailed him into stealing. When Ryerson did embezzle to save himself, he decided he might as well keep the loot’ and get a fresh start in life. ” That made sense. Like I said, Ryerson looked like a decent chap with just one weakness. After seeing his partner sent up on a bum rap, he got sore at him- self and at Hale and Borda. He didn’t have nerve enough to confess and clear George Lake, so he ran out. Then his girl crossed him, and the wolves tracked him to Florida. - “What are you scowling about?” she asked finally. “Must you bite that cigar in half?” I looked up and shook my head. “Thinking always hurts me. When you said they blackmailed Ryerson into em- bezzlement, it gave me an idea. Every trick works two ways.” “What do you mean?” She leaned for- ward eagerly and caught my arm. “I’m not saying now. It’s pretty thin, but the gag might work. It looks like the only chance, anyhow. If it wasn’t for Uncle George’s fingerprints on that tire pet Borda would be in the jug with im.” “Is it that bad?” she blurted, white- faced. “Fingerprints are hard to beat.” “But he didn’t do it!” “Maybe he didn’t, baby, but the cops have a case. Your uncle had a motive. He could have been sore enough to kill Ryerson. Do you think I’m a magician, making the police back down? I’m liable to make a chump of mvself, like I’ve already done twice tonight.” She had gorgeous eyes, and now they were full of tears. When she caught both my arms, her nails dug right in. “You’ve got to help me! Can’t you risk failure? Don’t be so proud, you big gorilla!” “I’m sorry for you and your uncle. Honest, I am. But if I get on the job, I might find out he really had done it. If I do, it’ll kill his last chance of mak- ing a defense. My client was knocked off, and I’m not pulling my punches. Would you like that?” Her chin lifted. “You can’t scare me. Uncle George didn’t do it.” “Okay, baby, you asked for it. I’m on the job.” GomilGcbaoo a S (C@)