bu Lawrence A Keating
Synopsis: Detective Dan Colwell
of the Graber-Vael private detec
tive agency is assigned the job of
shadowing lawyer Arthur McDon
ald whose wife fears gangster ene
mies are plotting to murder him.
McDonald is murdered in spite of
Colwell’s watchfulness. Dan is hot
on their trail and suspects a sinistei
plot. . . .
THIRD INSTALMENT
It was not a new idea for a ruse
but it was a good one. As Colwell
expected, Bradshaw came hastily
and closed the corridor door. Al
ready he had some gleaming object
in his hand which ’he had whip
ped out of the lining of his coat. Al
ready Quillen was on his feel, the
heart attack forgotten, his long
oval face that ended in a lantern
jaw wearing the crafty, sneaky
look which proved they had
merely wanted to get rid of that
girl.
Each time an elevator neared,
Colwell wandered around the elbow
of the corridor. Then he returned,
his hawk-like vigilance on that
McDonald suite masked as again he
shifted weight and stared at the
elevator signals or paced impatient-1
]y up and down.
He did not care to go into tne
office. That wasn’t his game. He
wanted to follow these fellows and
their movements. A hard smile
wrinkled the crow’s feet at the
outer corners of his eyes. Dan sen
sed what they were up to. Some
thing was in McDonald’s office
that they wanted and they intended
to get it before investigators of the
murder arrived.
iHe felt a slight tremor. It slid
along the floor and shocked his
ankles just a little . Chance was, no
one else in the building particular-!
ly noticed it. He was not even sure
he heard an explosion. It was neat
ly, beautifully done.
As a red light flashed overhead,
Colwell lounged again to the elbow;
of the corridor. The car delayed its!
arrival by a long haH at the floor
above. The door of McDonald’s of
fice opened and Quillen ceme out.
He carried a square package done
in brown manila paper and corded,
a package roughly six or eight in
ches by five by eight. The faint
pungency of the explosive they
had used to crack the hinges and
lock of McDoneld’s safe wafted to
Colwell’s keen nostrils, smelling
like a disinfectant. The outside of
fice window was open. The suite
would be fresh as ever when the
girl returned from the pharmacy.
I Quillen’s furtive eyes found the
I corridor vacant. He stood motion
less, his back half-turned to Col
well. When the elevator at last
reached the floor Dan heard the op
erator and Quillen talk.
"Say Jack, want to earn a buck?
Take this package down to the
newsstand fellow in the lobby, see?
I Ask him to hold it for a Mr. Swee
ney. Sweeney—get the name? He’ll
call for it in a few minutes. He
doesn’t know just where I am and I
got a conference on—haven’t time
to wait down there for him myself.
You got it straight—Sweeney?”
"Sure, boss. I getcha: leave it at
the newsstand fof Sweeney.
Thanks!”
The boy accepted the package by
its cord. Colwell pictured the lad’s
happiness at so easily earning a dol
lar. The cage door clanged shut and
Quillen turned away. The car and
the package were gone.
Dan waited. This time the Mc
Donald suite door was left ajar as
it had been when the men first en
tered. There was a hum of talk be
tween them, and as Colwell finally
walked for a red-light he saw
Bradshaw—a temporary name,
of course—stopping in the inner
office. The safe was closed as if it
had not been tampered with. Dan
went down in the next elevator.
He reached the street through a
haberdashery but walked back into
the lobby. This was necessary to ef- j
feet a proper entrance. He stepped
near the newsstand and seemed to
scan all persons who came off ele
vators. He kept an expectant,
somewhat irritated expression on
his face. As a matter of fact, he
was exceedingly apprehensive lest
Bradshaw surprise him.
Quillen, of course, must wait up
there for the office girl’s return.
He would be "feeling better.” Pro
testing, he would accept a glass of
water, rest awhile, and finally,
when McDonald still failed to ar
rive because of course he was stret
ched out on a morgue slab , Lefty
would tell the girl he could wait;
10 longer. His friend Bradshaw had'
been unable to wait even as long as;
Quillen.
Dan stepped to the newsstand.
'You don’t know a man named!
Quillen in the building, do you?|
I’m expecting to meet him and!
wonder if he’s in or out. Thought1
you might have noticed him pass.”!
The old fellow peered over thick)
glasses. "No, mister, I don’t know!
my Quillen. Sorry.”
"Well he was to bring a package
here. Some samples. I’ve—”
"Oh, You Sweeney?”
Colwell smiled and nodded.."Yes
Did he leave the samples with you,
oy chance?”
The grey haired chap ducked out
:>f sight. He came up with the ma
aila package which he laid atop a
pile of magazines. "There you are,
mister. Elevator boy told me to
bold it for Mr. Sweeney and Quill
:n—Irish, hey? I’m Irish myself,
name of McNamara.”
"I’m obliged for your trouble.
When he comes along just tell him!
Sweeney got the package all right.
Thanks.” Dan seized it and hurried|
out. Going through the doorway he
:ast a backward glance that found
Bradshaw. The man stepped from
>n elevator wearing a Chesire cat
look of complacency and satisfac
tion. {
He would have a sad ewakening
when he asked the newsstind chap
about that package.
Dan hurried down the street
aware that he must quickly get rid
of this burden. It was worth—
thirty thousand, probably, and it
was too hot to carry around. Thir
ty thousand! He was walking on
ait.
There was a cigar store on the
near corner and he turned in there,
heading straight for the telephone
booth. He dropped his nickel.
"Central 0576.”
"Hello. Irita, please.” He waited
a moment. "Irita? Dan again. Say,
I’ve got a test shipment. That’s
what it must be, and I’ll bet a hat
McDonald deliberately forgot to
mention it. He did?” Colwell grin
ned and nodded. "Lefty caught on
somehow. He killed Mac to get it.
Tell you later. Anyhow, I got it
now. Good snow comes in small
packages, eh? Yes. Send someone
to the cigar store corner of Alton
and Market right away. This thing
is burning my fingers. So long!”
He hung up but loitered a mo
ment in the booth pretending to
look up a number. Then he stepped
out and purchased a package of cig
arettes. 'He smoked and chatted a
while with the clerk until a Wes
tern Union boy entered. Dan took
the lad outside, put a few sharp
questions, surrendered the package,
and walked away.
He felt exultant at the coup. It
was a worth while capture of nar
cotics, loss of which would give
Lefty Quillen and his pal a severe
headache!
Grinning happily, he yielded to;
the impulse to walk back to the)
Lawyers and Doctors building. It
would be good sport to see Quill-;
en’s face, and Bradshaw’s. Probably!
they would be having plenty of al-l
tercations, calling each other liars!
and double-crossers and dirty!
sneaks.
He crossed the alley and walked
on. Two thickset men brushed past
him with the air of knowing where!
they were headed and being in a
hurry. Colwell recognized two city [
plainclothes men, Harry Deane and
Joe Harper. iHe realized they werej
on their way to the office of Ar
thur McDonald on a routine check
up. The body had been identified
then.
A sympathetic cloud crossed his
face at thought of Miss Jennings,
the office girl. The poor kid was
soon to get a heavy blow, news of
her employer’s murder. It would
mean the office closed and her Job
gone.
Neither Quillen or Bradshaw j
was in the lobby. Colwell turned!
back the way he had come andj
slowly became aware that the peo-j
pie hurried past him with an air of
excitement and curiosity. Then a
squad car siren whined and the ve
hicle twisted in a sharp right angle
to plunge down the alley. Dan mo
ved faster.
Sure enough, deep in the alley
was a close-packed knot of people.
By standing on tiptoe Colwell
could see over the heads of his!
neighbors two uniformed men who
rose and stood aside for the squad
men.
"Soup Catterby,” one growled.
"Somebody jammed a knife right
through that pretty striped tie. !
Say, that’s the niftiest tie I seen to- '
day, and it’s my birthday. Thirty- ;
nine. I got two swell ties from j
Clara, and from— ,
"What the hell—Catterby?” 1
"How come Soup went out from
a knife? Who did it?”
One of the policemen shrugged.
"Where’s the quack? I told Sarg.
to shoot over one of them doctors.
Not that he could do much: Soup
was plenty dead when we found
him.”
Straining to see better, Colwell
did at last attain a partial view.
Bradshaw, alias Soup Catterby, hud
dled grotesquely in alley filth, his
shoulders against the brick wall of
a skyscraper. A look of unspeaka
ble agony etched lines from his
twisted nose to his mouth, from the
corners of his mouth downward,
and in parallel grooves in his gaunt
cheeks. He had the same terrible
expression McDonald had worn.
A knife, its handle slimy with
blood, was sunk to the very hilt in
his chest.
"Betcha it’s his own?” one of
the policemen exclaimed. Look,
he’s wearin’ the scabbard under his
pants, and it’s empty!”
Colwell threaded his way out of
the crowd. It appeared that Quillen
thought his pal had tried to double
cross him—rthat he figured Brad
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shaw, alias Catterby, had obtained
that package from the newsstand
by the magic name Sweeney, and
had sent it to some hiding place by
a confederate.
Dan felt genuinely sorry for
Soup Catterby. It was his fault
that he had been murdered by the
revengeful Quillen jumping at con
clusions. Although the dead man
himself participated in a mur
der an hour or so ago; he was a rat.
I am very sorry, Mrs. McDon
ald,” Dan reported over the tele
phone later. "I have some very bad
news and I don’t know how to tell
you. Brace yourself, Mrs. McDon
ald. It’s very bad indeed.
"If you want it straight out then
something has happened to youi
husband. I thought perhaps the
police had been there? Something
very serious. I’m sorry, Mrs. Mc
Donald, but your husband was
murdered an hour or so ago.”
He waited. Several gasps came
to his ears and a wailing "Oh dear!
Oh dear!” She went through her
act, but it did not strike Colwell as
a very good act. She never could
earn a living in the smallest stape
part that required emotion. Of
course, when one poses as the wife
of a man who lived and died a
; bachelor. . . .
There was no Mrs. McDonald
and never had been. Colwell had
been aware of that from the first.
I He listened attentively, putting
in a word here and there. Gradual
ly the lawyer’s imposter wife calm
ed her tumultuous grief that
should, to be convincing, have
been a trifle less tumultuous and a
bit more hysterical.
! "I know who the murders are,
Mrs. McDonald.”
That stirred her! Colwell had
thought it would. She was breath
less an instant. "You do?”
1 "Yes. But I haven’t informed thC
police yet. We’ll have to, soon, of j
course, but your instructions in Mr.
Graber’s office— Yes, there 'vere
j two. It was with a knife, in a taxi
cab during a traffic tieup. Corner
of Broadway and,Alton.
| "What’s that? No, but I’d know
them. Later, one killed the other
with his own knife. Both desperate
characters.” Dan’s eyes roved to
the corners. That jarred her too.
"I thought there might be some lit
tle thing, unimportant, of course,
which you might not care to have
get out?”
Mrs. McDonald was very distur
bed that he knew the remaining
killer. . . . Colwell had the impres
sion she paused to confer with
someone at her elbow, although he
could not be certain. "I have your
’phone number but haven’t looped
up Mr. McDonald’s home address
yet; will you give it to me? Oh, I
see.” Coiwell nodded to the mouth
piece.
(Continued next issue)
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