5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

DEATH ALL AROUND ME my was killed around nine-thirty—may- be ten. The medical examiner can’t place it to the minute. So let’s say you were there at nine and she paid you the twenty bucks. Are you following me, Craig?” “IT understand English. diploma—” “Skip it, will you? Okay—so you left at five minutes after nine. You went out. Nobody saw you. You got into a cab at the corner of Eighth and West 20th. You told the cab driver to take you to the Club Intime. There you picked up a good-looking dame and went to her apartment with her. Later you got a phone call and left in a big hurry. You returned to the Haven apartment, found Sammy nice and dead. You told Mrs. Haven to scram, gave her time enough, and then called us. How’s that for police work?” I shook my head slowly. I’d met screwballs before, but this guy was at the top of the heap. He whizzed around faster than the guys who were duly ex- amined and put away. “I suppose none of that registers,” he said, his tone quietly sarcastic. “None—because it isn’t true. I never even heard of the Club Intime.” Barr picked up his phone and said, “Okay, Bert.” (pee office door opened and a lanky man came in. In his hand he held a cap with a hack driver’s badge pinned to it. He seemed nervous and ill at ease. Barr said, “Anybody here you know, Finch?” “I make him,” Finch pointed at me. There wasn't anybody else in the I’ve got a sensariona. wew TING CREAM FOR FOOT (TCH (4 Mets USE ioghipe ) RELIEVE ITCHING - SOOTHES * BURNING BETWEEN CRACKED PEELING TOES - ‘ MOS HEALING a AMAZINGLY ! IN HOSPITALS iy \/ RELEASEO TO i ORUGGISTS ff BvARANTEED 21 room. How could he be wrong? “Tell it,” Barr said. He glanced in my direction. “This is Steve Finch, a cab driver. He has a story to tell.” “I’m listening,” I said. “But I won’t believe a word of it.” Finch said, “I was parked at Eighth and 20th, like my tally sheet shows. I just finished a butt when this guy ankles up, gets in, and says do I know where ‘the Club Intime is. I ain’t heard of it, but he tells me it’s over on Ninth, so I go over there and sure enough, there it is. Club Intime. You learn somethin’ every day.” I leaned forward. the Club Intime?” “That’s right, pal.” “You’re nuts,” I said and settled back again. Barr said, “All right, Finch. Wait i in the next room and tell Bert to send in another one.” This time a portly, well dressed man, with a cheery red face and a kind of bulbous nose, came in. He walked with short, mincing steps, as if he were afraid his pot belly would pull him over if he relaxed too much. Barr said, “What’s your name?” He had a thin kind of voice. “I told you—Mike Tambo. I’m the headwaiter at the Club Intime.” “All right,” Barr encouraged. “Tell it. Tambo pointed at me. “About nine- thirty this man came into the club and wanted a table close to ringside. We were not very busy, he gave me five dollars and I was glad to oblige him.” “There’s no mistake?” Barr asked. [Turn page] “You took me to uum = /N LAB TESTS os fi TING CREAM P| PROVEO EFFECTIVE IN KILLING SPECIFIC TVPES OF ATHLETES Foor FUNG/ ON S60 SECOVO | | USEO WOW ELVEN /F One PRODUCTS * (ie SATISEV YOUWN | ie caueo revawzne 9B ak, A WEEK-OR pee = MONEY BACK! | aecasezess, STAINLESS tg ay 7) | TING CeeAM TOONY! QRUCE (STS omev Fe TUBE CoOMmiclooo S (C(O)