The Shadow 237 Alibi Trail by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1941-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

Having read Cranston’s name in the newspapers, Tim immediately linked the garage affair with the Central Park episode.

“Say, those guys were really out to get you, Mr. Cranston!” expressed Tim. “But why didn’t they bump you off, instead of putting you in my truck?”

“A ride with you amounted to the same thing, Tim.”

“How?” queried Tim. “This Jerry guy couldn’t have been working with them. He’d have known you were on board.”

“I wasn’t thinking of Jerry. I’m considering the explosion that blasted your truck off the road.”

“You mean the blow-out?”

“That was no blow-out, Tim. It was some sort of a bomb, intended really to wreck the truck. It was either set with a time device, or geared to go off after you covered a specified mileage.”

Tim was thus awakened to the fact that crooks had intended to dispose of him, as well as Cranston, a logical reason why they should have packed their prisoner in the truck as the best way for a trip into oblivion. A lot of things went on in Tim’s mind, and he finally summed them up with the heartfelt words:

“I guess I’ll be really better off if those birds think I’m dead.”

The Shadow assured him that he would be, and then decided that they’d both be better off if they could find out where the dirt road was leading them.

It was Tim’s turn to supply information. He said they were about a dozen miles from Trenton, and that if they kept along the dirt road, they would strike a main highway. So they kept along it.

All the while, The Shadow was learning more about Tim, for the trucker was glad to talk about himself to a friendly listener like Cranston.

Tim lived in Philadelphia, close to the swanky residential district where Kerring’s house was located. He made a regular trip to New York five days a week, getting off as early as he could pick up loads, that were usually slated in advance.

Once in New York, he made deliveries, then left the truck in the cheap garage where Cranston had discovered it. Of course, if he was lucky enough to get return hauls, he took the truck out and gathered them up.

The truck was invariably back in the cheap garage at five o’clock, because that was when Tim went to see the commission man about late pickups, which, recently, had been few and far between.

Tim’s usual rule was to eat at six o’clock, get to the garage before seven, and head back to Philadelphia, generally to the music of a lot of empty crates and boxes. The trip took him about three hours, and he turned in as soon as he put the truck away, because ten o’clock was pretty late for a man who had to get up at six the next morning.

All this seemed to interest Cranston, for he let Tim ramble along uninterrupted. Tim was still giving details when they reached the main highway. There, The Shadow suggested that the rest of the story be postponed, while he gave Tim a lesson in the art of hitchhiking.

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