Newspapers / Wilmington Morning Star (Wilmington, … / Sept. 19, 1940, edition 1 / Page 10
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN When Linda opened the door in to the outer room of the Bagley Models’ agency, where she had her desk, she expected to see Clarabell Ackerman working at her desk, a desk she had been occupying while Linda was getting something to eat. Clarabell was at the desk. But she was not working. She never would work again. Her body slumped over the desk and her arms hung limp at her sides. The green eyeshade was shattered and her face was half covered with red blood. Fresh blood. Linda realized in that first moment of panic. She wanted to run. To scream even louder. But some instinct, drew her nearer. Maybe Clarabell wasn’t dead. Maybe if she called here, there would be a sign of life. “Clarabell! Clarabell!” She was so near that body now that she could see the blood on her clothes. And she could see the bullet hole in the girl’s head. Snot: uiarauen iietu uccu while she stooped over to work. That second spot on her blouse must be another wound. But who would kill her? Poor, simple, un exciting Clarabell Ackerman, who had telephoned for a milk shake only five or ten minutes before. Why, this just had happened! Maybe the murderer was some where near. She shivered and turned back to the door. She must get help. But where? The elevator operator was down on the first floor and it would be a long time until he could get the signal and come up. Usually he stood at the entrance at night and only occa sionally turned his head to see if a signal was flashing. Oh, if this were only daytime, when all the elevators shot up and down, in stead of night with just one opera tor on hand. With a trembling hand she reached for the telephone. She must get the police, Caroline, Mr. Bagley. Then two things happened. A man's voice had been talking on the radio. Now it stopped and a woman’s came on. Mina Nevins. Yes, that was the role Mina was playing. So Clarabell had died to the intonations of a voice she wor shiped, never knowing about the woman who had the voice. But the other disturbance was so startling that she let the tele phone slip to the floor and roll away. Distinctly, clearly, subtly she, caught the odor of the perfume that Mina Kevins used. Suddenly it seemed to be everywhere. She was being upset, excited, she whis pered to herself that perfume was in her mind and tragedy had brought it back, that was all. She ran, then, down the hall. She heard steps and paused, aghast. The murderer! But where could she hide? Where could she go? There was another corridor, not so wide, and darker, leading away. She ran down that hall, faster and faster, though it seemed to her that her legs were weak and filled with water. Oh, this was a night mare, one of the kind of dreams where you tried to run but 3'our legs wouldn’t work. Then she was aware of heavy steps coming after her, running But she had reached the end of the narrow hall and there was no place to go. She tried a door which said “Exit,” but it was locked. She tried another which led to some one’s dark office, but it did not open. At last, she cowered against the wall, waiting. There were two people coming. Two men. One of them called and she rec ognized the voice. It was Joe, the elevator boy. Quietly she slipped to the ground, her legs refusing to support her further. N She did not faint, though, and when the men had helped her up she looked at the other one. It was the night watchman. "Oh, I was hoping, you were around!” she panted. “I was so afraid. It’s Clarabell — I went in, and she's dead . . . . ” Her voice died away, as she remembered the white face, blood spattered, under the broken green lamp shade that had protected the girl’s eyes. “We know,” Joe said. “I was bringing Mr. Parrish here up when we heard a scream. We went down the hall and saw it, then we saw someone running and followed. We thought we had the crook.” Linda explained her actions and went downstairs with the elevator operator while the watchman sum moned the police. She waited with the elevator man until police offi cers, detectives and the coroner came. In the midst of the hurrying arrivals, Mr. Bagley appeared and she told her story again. At last she was taken to the room where the dead girl 1 a y across" the desk. Nothing had been changed. Some of the detectives were examining the blood through pieces of glass. The men wore gloves and Linda noticed that they touched nothing. "She hasn’t peen dead long or the blood wouldn’t be red,” the commissioner said. Someone else was sprinkling powder on the desk in a quest for fingerprints. "Dragon’s blood powder,” Mr. Bagley explained to Linda. "It will show up any marks.” "Humph!” the man snorted. “Whoever was here was nighty smart. No prints around except what must belong to Miss Acker man and maybe Miss Avery. You sat here first, you say7” “Yes.” She su.d it briefly. "Then she wanted ti use my desk.” “Sorry, miss, but we better get you fingerprinted, too. Will help us to distinguish if there should be a third party around.” Some of the men were finger printing Clarabell and Linda looked away. It was dreadful to see those limp hands raised and the fingers pressed against the blotter. Some oi tne detectives w c » v away. Some more came and with them some reporters. “Miss Avery, you were alone, here all evening with Miss Acker man?” the commissioner of police asked. “Oh yes, ever since Mr. Bagley left.” The man turned to Joe, the ele vator boy. “Joe, you said you heard a scream and saw Miss .twery running. Any chance it was not Miss Avery’s scream you have heard?” He paused and asked in a softer, beguiling voice. “Could it have belonged to the dead girl?” Joe shifted from one foot to an other. “I don’t know, sir. I never heard any of them scream before. But Miss Avery wouldn’t do it. She just wouldn’t.” Linda sprang to her feet, her eyes black with anger. “You mean you think I did this? That you want to pin it on Me?” “There, there, Miss Avery. No one wants to pin anything on any one. We just want to find the guilty party. This girl was murdered and someone did it” “But I didn’t. I just came in. Joe brought me back and the sandwich shop people saw me a few min utes ago. I won’t be treated like a criminal!” Wasn't Ronnie's show ever clos ing? Wouldn’t he ever come? Or hadn't anyone called him, she won dered wildly. Her hair was loose and the curls were tumbling around her face and she knew the pink linen frock, so crisp that morning, was crushed and tired looking now. “Did Miss Ackerman have any enemies?” somebody important in detective circles asked. The cmmissioner went on, dis regarding the interruption. “Miss Avery, could it have been that that shot, two shots, were intended for you? The green eyeshade would hide your face, this girl is about your build, and the room is in shadow. It’s a quite possible mis (Continued on Page Eleven) THIS CURIOUS WORLD || ---*---J f \ EAGL€S FREOUENTD/ ARE ACCUSED OF CARRVING OFF . LARGE . CHILDREN/ IN RECENT TESTS, A , GOLDEN EAGLE COULD FLy ONL/ WHEN TOSSED FROM A HEIGHT CARRYING AN S L&.WS/GM7: N___ o ^Tl I I LEONARDO DAVINCI WAS LEFT-HANDED AND WROTE FROM /s/o/yr ro ‘ < \ /Where canyou find'J ^ ^s&sxq/as-, vgA y/y^- G/^Arry c^c/s&v.A'y', \ , /FC*^47?a4 'S l n. J V “ Phenomenon seen during solar eclipses: Gmnts Causeway, a basaltic formation in Ireland; Cleopatra’s Needles, Egyptian obelisks, one now in London and one in New York. A Fonn7fnURI REf0RTER %~L. Allen Heine Founded On Actual Court Records And You Can Be The Judge [f The ^ Strange Case of THE BOAT THAT FLEW • IN SIX EPISODES No. 4 !L___ WITH A STALLED MOTOR,THE SEAPLANE.. 'Miss Bahama'.'.battles with a raging 5EA! WAVE AFTER WAVE CRASHES OVER TWe CRAFT WHILE BILL MOFFAT TRIES TO COMFORT HlS THREE FRANTIC PASSEWGFRS? f7" . - JOHN .'JOHN'I «/H€ttE‘SMy J HOSeANPf FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE. I *®6P >feOR HEADS / MOU’GE ML SECURELY Tied} when a wah/e HITS US, CLOSE M3 UR MOUTH..AND HOLD VOUg BREATH I OUT OUR WAY _By J. R. Williams THIS IS AGONY PER ME Y AN’ YOU COULDN’T DRAG \ ME INTO IT IP I WASN T ] AFRAID SOME DAY, IF WE EVER GOT INTO A WAR, GOLDIE MIGHT BE A OFFICER OVER ) ME- CUZ. HE GOES INTO / THINGS THOROUGHLY// \ TOO THOROUGHLY FER ] ME/ ALL X’M GOIN'TO ! DO IS LEARN ENOUGH i TO BE A CORPORAL I OR SERGEANT SO X I I WON’T HAVE TO CLEAN ! HIS SOOTS OR WASH I HIS PISHES".* CANT STAND A LITTLE OF J! > THIS FER NONE V' ! VOF THAT/ , THE middle class OUR BOARDING HOUSE . . with . . . Major mZ ? UOBODV UOIv\E AND UTTLE LEANDer~T^T^ joint/ T VULNERABLE, DOUBLED AND REDO1 B LIMB IN AN OPPORTUNITY LIKE THIS DOESN'T c-7.- ' . CUUTE IK OPENER TUAN ONCE IN A LIFETIME--, Vt i ■ STUCK/ PASSED it up I'd never be ABLE TO ' * \ g_-r—■MV SELF IN TU' FACE AGAIN/'- IITJ -V-y UP AND AT 'EM,BARTER/ ) “7 ■tP/td -il itf/Tj ) never FOUND OUT WHO D;0 11= IJTTLE ORPHAN ANNIE Stranger In The House' I THOUGHT SHE WAS GOING. BUT SHE RALLIED — SUES A __ FIGHTER. ALL RIGHT—IF ONLY SHE HAD MORE STRENGTH TO I DRAW ON--NEARLY STARVED* A APPARENT!*- ^ V SO IDEA WHO HE tS, OF COURSE iUST HAVE SOME ELPXWE OR FRIEND I HO SHOULD BE CmFlED-'-DID SHE AVE A HANDBAG? HM-M-M--NOPE JOST THE USUAL JUMBLE-NO CAROS LETTERS-NOTHING TO ©EN-nFV HER OH. WELL-WE'LL 06 [ THE BEST WE CAN ""'KHV •1' T' SAY. SAM-I'D HAVE * SWORN TH'OTHER NIGHT f HUc«l 1 WHEN WE LOOKED IN £ D,o, \ HER BAQ THERE WAS ! HF*p A NEWSPAPER CUFPIN fi f.'.r <~ c■ /w,1 —GUESS l MUSiA 0 CAlCmr ! BEEN MISTAKEN. EH? . US9 ! nfete— __y ^ WASH TUBBS A Good Resolution By Roy Cram 1 WHOA,BUDDY! LETS THINK THIS 1 OVER. IS THIS SECRET MESSAGE INTENDED FOR FUNKY FOWLER,OR | (THAT PROVES IT WAS INTEUDED FOR ME. $ THESE BLINKING SPIES SUSPECT ME OF I BEINS A FEDERAL A5EMT. THE 3 ^MESSAGE IS PHONET! ITS A TRAP!, llliilllf’ 1 f BEFORE ME PAVE SEEN MURDERED, AM I TO 6E VICTIM HUMBER FOUR? ■pv BY BLAZES! I’Ll ! OUTSMART THESE |D :\ SMART ’EM AVC \ ■ K LIVE! \ I GASOLINE ALLEY The Boss Says Says Ik j yvouLDKrr voulikf to know.' i j all right; \ ' I KNEW YOU'D GET NOSEY. WHAT WAS IF THAT'S I I SAID WAS STRICTLS BETWEEN ME 7 THE WAY J n B and the boss. you teei I about it. I SOU'LL FIND 0IP WHEN THE TIME COMES. AND IF THE NEWS KNOCKS SOUR HAT OFF, DON'T SAV I DIDN'T WARN SOU ' y ' i THE GUMPS “ --Love’s Labors /fAUGH ! THAT FTS NCTSOEAdAJ NOLCANO AND HIS \ MRS GUMP-I'LL HAVfc\ Smelly pipe! this \ it cleaned in a \ RtoOM HAS ATHICKER I UIFFY-I LONE TO ' LAYER OF ASHES THAN V MAvJE A MAN SMOKING L POMPEII HAD AFTER \ A PIPE AROUND THE WCt | house-heSso > ^^^^^PELEtS \ DISTINGUISHED / ■^^^ERUPT 101^1 LOOKING-J^HT/ / I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S IS f COME OVER TILDA— At I SHE'S SO CHEERFUL .-£*7 I ABOUT HER WORK \ AND NOTHINCrS /"THE \ \ TOO HARD OLD SCARE-X \ FOR HER if CROW HAS \ TO DO- 0 FALLEN FOR / OLD-TIMER'S ( f 'A Flattery- j A / \ HOOK LINE . \AND SINKER .7 ^ / COOK AT THE CAKE I MADE FOR dimmer,mrs. eidkap f OH BOV/ % IF CUPID LAUOHED at ’ LOCKSMITHS, HE MUST BE IN HYSTERICS OVER THIS IN ALL THE YEARS I'Vt KNOW L HIM, I NEVER SUSPECTED MA' BRICK BRADFORD—Seeks the Diamond Doll By William Ritt and Clarence Gray HEY, BOSS-1-I'M YOU BLITHERING IDIOT.' SORRY - WHATCHA YOU BLUNDERIN6 t—' GOT YOUR G-6UN , BOOB-I'LL- rjK OUT F-FOR ? »5;m»Tme3!5? fH00T'AM) ^— HELP/ I'M FALLING' HELP / )
Wilmington Morning Star (Wilmington, N.C.)
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Sept. 19, 1940, edition 1
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