5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

30 Miller Falls Daily Eagle. They con- cerned such exciting things as engage- ments, weddings, showers. They were all about twenty years old. I sdecided to look the thing over at my office. I went there by cab, wondering when I’d get back to earning a living. In the office, I studied the scrapbook thoroughly. The super had been. right. It was an important find, and Joan had reason to go half nuts for fear it might have fallen into the wrong hands. First of all, I determined that her maiden name was Palmer and _ she’d married a guy named Harkness. Haven was either a phony or she'd married again. It appeared that Harkness and a man named Sydney Ward had jointly owned a brass foundry engaged in the manufacturing of marine goods—like the brasswork on ships, I supposed. From those clips I got a chronological history of the firm and especially of Joan’s husband and his partner. The clippings were spaced closer and closer, and more social events took place. Joan had apparently been someone of im- portance. 7 Then it all came to an abrupt end. The last clip gave a long, detailed story of the death of Joan’s husband. It seemed that he, Joan, and the business partner, Sydney Ward, had gone deer hunting, and Sydney Ward had acci- dently killed Joan’s husband. That had happened eleven years ago. A coroner’s jury had absolved Ward, mainly on the strength of Joan’s testimony. HERE was one final clip, not even pasted in the book but simply stuck between a couple of pages. It stated that the foundry business had been sold and Sydney Ward had moved away. It - seemed that tragedy was no stranger in Joan’s life. I picked up a phone book. There were four Sydney Wards listed. I called the first one. A man answered and I said, “This is the Miller Falls Daily Eagle. I’d like to know—” “IT don’t want none,” the man said and hung up. I tried another, received no answer. The third number was that of a Park Avenue address. A woman with a soft voice answered, and I had an idea she FIVE DETECTIVE NOVELS MAGAZINE was a servant. I said, “Is Mr. Ward at home?” “Who is calling, please?” “I’m a reporter on the Daily Eagle, a newspaper in Mr. Ward’s home town— Miller Falls. I’d like to interview him and take a story back home with me.” She said, “Just a moment, sir.” It was a long moment. I know, be- cause I held my breath during most of it. The same woman came back on. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. If you will please contact Mr. Ward’s private secretary tomorrow, arrange- ments for an appointment will be made. Mr. Ward’s office is at the Larch Steam- ship Lines. Howevér,. you probably know this.” | I thanked her very much and hung up. I lit a cigarette and tasted the to- bacco for the first time in hours. I was relaxed and calm. I was going places. I knew something though I had no idea where it would lead. I put my feet on my desk, leaned back, and decided I was not only a moron but an especially stupid one. Everything I did was send- ing me closer to jail. I couldn’t possibly win and the only conclusion I reached was that I must be an extremely stub- born individual. Chapter VII EXT morning, I felt even more stubborn when I walked into the main office of the Larch Steamship Lines. I already knew something about them and about the owner. It was a fast freight line to South America and Africa and had been started back in the days of the slave trade. It had been passed down through the generations until it reached the last in the line and Rita Larch had operated it successfully until she married Sydney Ward ten years ago and soon afterwards turned the business over to him. It seemed that he’d been selling her brass marine supplies for some time and knew her quite well. This same Sydney Ward had also known Joan Haven just as well—per- haps better—and he’d accidentally killed her husband on a hunting trip. Things were beginning to add up. Ward, of course, couldn’t possibly know me, AMICLOOO (CO) S (C@)