The Shadow 170 The Vindicator by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1939-02-28T23:00:00+00:00

“It did make sense, maybe. But not any longer, now that Brye’s cashed in his checks.”

Trigger smiled. This was where the smart stuff came. He watched Jeeper’s face to see how the theory struck him. “This is the fifth time the Vindicator called up,” reminded Trigger, nudging toward the telephone. “He’s always got two questions: Am I sure that Brye was in the joint when it blew? And have they found the body yet?

“He asks the first one over again, right now, after I tell him that they found the body, the way the papers said. Still, he don’t seem satisfied. He acts like he thinks I’m wise to something; at least, that’s the way that funny voice of his sounded.

“Maybe I am wise. Listen, Jeeper. None of the mob even saw Brye, from the time we covered the place.

He never went out to get his mail. It’s still laying at the Vreekill post office. Suppose Brye wasn’t in that castle at all!”

Jeeper showed the interest that Trigger expected. Before he could put a question, Trigger intervened.

“I know what you’re going to ask,” said Trigger. “What about the body? Well, what about it? Maybe it was a stiff that Brye lugged in there and left. He could have set those bombs of his way ahead. And that’s how” - Trigger spread his wolfish lips in a wide smile - “Brye could have been around to croak old Grennel.”

There was a nod from Jeeper. Seeing the fellow’s increasing interest, Trigger spat a warning.

“Nobody’s to know this, not even Slink. We’re playing in with the bigshot, see? It means dough, so it would be bum stuff to let him know we’ve guessed who he is, because he don’t want it that way. Brye’s using this Vindicator gag to cover up. If nobody knows who you are, you’re better off. Take, for instance, The Shadow -“

WITH the words, Trigger’s lips clamped shut. Past the doorway, silhouetted against the wall, he saw a shape that was all too familiar - a hawkish profile, topped by a slouch hat. Stiffening, Trigger watched to see if the silhouette moved; then, coming to his senses, he shifted away.

“Let’s have a drink,” he gruffed to Jeeper. “The bottle’s in the pantry.”

He watched Jeeper as the fellow moved away, unsuspecting that anything was wrong. Easing back to his former position, Trigger finally sighted the profile again. He suspected that it had moved farther back, but wasn’t sure.

Trigger didn’t take time to study that silhouette closely. His left hand slid under the back of his coat, to reach his right hip. Trigger could shoot left-handed, as he proved in speedy style.

Leaping to the left to get the needed angle, he jabbed two shots deep into the corner of the adjoining studio. The silhouette performed a fading slide; there was a crash beyond the doorway.

Jeeper came dashing from the pantry, an uncorked bottle in one hand, a fistful of ice cubes in the other.

“I got The Shadow!” informed Trigger, gleefully. “Come on.

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