5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

16 big finale. That did it. Somebody was eoming toward the door. The key turned, the door was snapped open, and I blinked in surprise at the man who stood there. I don’t know what he’d have looked like all dressed, but in his underwear he resembled a small mountain. He had thick eyebrows, curly hair, a big stomach, and shoulders like an ox. In socks, he stood about six feet two. He had black eyes. Just now, they were full of fire. “What do you want?” he demanded. “I came to see Mrs. Haven—by ap- pointment.” He reached out a hand and took hold of my shoulder. The bones didn’t quite break. He hauled me inside and slammed the door. . “By appointment, huh? I told that lousy bag if she played around—” Mrs. Haven was in the bedroom. I[ could hear springs squeak. “Who is it, ‘Sammy? What’s wrong?” “Keep outa this, Joan,” the big guy said. “I’ll take care of him. And then I’ll take care of you. Play around when you say you won’t, huh? I told you what’d happen—” He was still holding my shoulder in a viselike grip, and I grabbed his arm. I might as well have tried to dislodge a bear trap. The arm was thick and hairy and all muscle. He used his left hand to backhand me across the face. It hurt like hell. I smashed him in the breadbas- ket. He smiled at me—a thin sort of smile—and he reeked of gin. Over his shoulder, I saw Mrs. Haven stagger into view in the doorway, and all of a sudden I thought I knew what made this big guy sore. I guess I would have been, too. “Tell him—” I started to yell at her. The hand on my shoulder switched to my throat and started to squeeze. This man was drunk—ugly and drunk. He didn’t know his own strength. I might be killed. Far back in my mind a voice floated. It was that of a top sergeant who’d said, “You guys will have to fight for your lives and you don’t do that like gents. You club a man, gouge out his eyes, knee him—” I brought up my right knee sharply. The big guy did have a weak point. He yowled in pain and let go of me. I FIVE DETECTIVE NOVELS MAGAZINE scampered in the direction of the door, but he caught me before I reached it and if he’d been in a rage before, it had now reached a murderous pitch. I must have hurt him plenty, because sweat was pouring down his fat face. He whirled me around. I started pumping my fists. Mrs. Haven stood in the doorway, watching it all. From the way she looked, she was too drunk to interfere or to attempt an explanation which the big guy would believe anyhow. He had registered in his mind the fact that my purpose in coming to see Mrs. Haven was the same as his, and naturally he was good and sore. He gave me a shove, and I went fly- ing backward into the room. That was when Mrs. Haven found her voice. It was shrill and still gin-cracked. “Sammy, kill the bum! Go on, bust his faney neck for him. He ain’t got any right to bust in here like this.” Sammy didn’t need any encourage- ment from her. Maybe he wouldn’t have killed me, maybe he’d have stopped short of murder, but I couldn’t be sure. I looked for something to heave at him. That bust of Mozart or somebody was still on the TV set. When I went flying back, I hit the set, and that drew an- other scream from Mrs. Haven. The big guy had me cornered now. He was coming toward me slowly, spread-leg- ged, fists raised and looking like big clubs. If he started using them on my head, there was a good chance he’d kill me. I half turned, grabbed the statue. I'd thought it was the usual cheap kind, made of plaster of paris, but this was metal and very heavy. I didn’t have time to think. He paid no attention to the upraised statue but bent and started to aim his first punches at my stomach. If they connected, they’d tear my insides loose. I smacked him on top of the head with the statue. I didn’t pull the blow, and the weight of the statue made it a very heavy blow. EK STARTED to fall. His hands clawed at my clothes, but he kept on falling until he was on his hands and knees. I stood up there, the statue raised. I meant to use it if he started to get up. He didn’t. He dropped over comiclooolkks (C@)