Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, December 1956 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

Ed smiled. “I hadn’t either. Mr. Burns—Elton—is her agent.” “And the other man? Mr. Car- ver?” Ed shrugged. “A hanger-on. A nobody from nowhere.” “He’s good-looking?” Ed considered. “He’s pretty,” he decided at last. “She keeps him?” “Who?” he asked bigubly. “Miss Everly.” Ed looked pained. “I didn’t say that, Tom. I don’t know.” “Have any of the guests been here before?” “Burns has. The agent. Three, four years ago, I think it was. The others are new to me.” | “Sim tells me you flew in this morning from Rapid,” I remarked, changing the subject. “Yeah,” he said, “Been up there four, five days.” “Buy any cattle?” “Some. Not as many as last year. I don’t know, the way the market is right now...” He let it hang. “Who looks after things when you're gone?” “You mean the ranch or the house?” “The house.” “Mrs. Donald comes in every day from. seven to seven. She cleans up, fixes the meals, stuff like that. Then, when I know I’m going to be gone for more than a day or two, I’ve been having Charley come out from town and look in on things once or twice a day. Check the furnace and so on.” “You mean Bartel?” “Yeah.” “Nice of him.” “You know Charley. He thinks I have something to do with keep- ing him on as chief of that one- horse Devensville police force.” “Do you?” Ed smiled. I drained my glass and set it on the desk. “Another?” he asked. I stood up. “No thanks, Ed, I suppose I should be getting back on the job. The coroner’s due any minute now.” A flicker of amusement played in the man’s eyes. “I thought Char- ley was taking care of everything.” The guests were in the living room waiting for me. The well-built, spectacularly pretty dark-haired woman was slumped in a huge chair, smoking impatiently. The shortish man with the pot belly and the big cigar and no hair wore a frown as he stood ~ by the window studying the scen- ery outside intently and working the cigar back and forth in his mouth. The young man standing beside him was tall and lean. He seemed bored. They stared at me bleakly as I entered the room. I identified myself, suggested they return to their rooms and stay there. I told them that I would be around shortly and interview them individually. I cautioned them to remember that this was merely 28 : 2 ALFRED HITCHCOCK’S MYSTERY MAGAZINE Comichooksuco