Dime Detective Magazine April 1951 by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, Pulp
Publisher: Dime Detective Magazine
Published: 1951-04-04T05:00:00+00:00

THE tall man didn’t say a word. He threw the right hand hard, a digging six-inch blow that exploded just where the other’s coat lapels came together over the solar plexus. The shorter man sagged with the blow.

The second blow was with the open left hand, a slice upward, stiff fingers knifing into the hard cartilage between the nostrils; then the right hand, open, chopping like the blade of a cleaver against the side of the throat, where the ear joined the column of the neck.

It was over in a second. The thick-set man hit the floor and bounced on his face. He tried to move, groaned, and collapsed, his arms and legs quivering, outstretched. The tall man reached down and took the gun away from him.

“You better get inside before he comes out of it,” he told the girl. She led him into 402 without a word.

He had worked up some breath but the excitement within him was part of the room, not the recent exertion, not the girl. It had been almost a year, and he was well aware of this now, since he had come in closer contact with a woman’s scent and heard the rustle of her clothes. However, he knew that his quickened pulse was because of the room itself.

He looked around, seeing it as the reverse, in placement, of the one he occupied across the hall. He recognized an unrepaired crack in the ceiling plaster, a green leather chair.

“Thank “you very much,” she said. “Mr…”

“Smith,” he supplied. He had a momentary impulse to tell her that his name was Larry Rand, but at the last moment he chose to continue the minor deception. Something in her face, in the dark green eyes, communicated a warning that he could not avoid.

“My name is Jane Arnold,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry you had to get into trouble.”

“Who is he?”

She moistened her full red lips. “I—I don’t know. He came in here and started —er—getting fresh. When I told him to leave—” She shrugged—“I managed to get outside…and then you heard us,” One hand fluttered to her mouth. She did only a fair job of suppressing a simulated yawn. “Thank you again, Mr. Smith. Now, if you don’t mind…I’d like to get some sleep.”

“You might call the desk,” he suggested. “I’m sure they like to keep tabs on all the mashers in the place.”

“Oh, no!” Was she as nervous as she seemed? “Really, I don’t want any trouble.”

“Looks like you’ve already had it—”

“No, honestly, I’ll be all right.” She tried a smile, but the lovely face looked more haunted than relieved. “I’ll snap the latch. There won’t be any trouble.”

She held the door for him, managing somehow not to face him as he went by. She’s afraid, Rand thought, and she doesn’t want me hanging around. It was, in many ways, quite a shame.

He said goodnight and headed back to his own room.

The corridor was empty.

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