Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 118, No. 6, April 16, 1938
- Автор: Трит Лоуренс, Вулрич Корнелл
- Год: 1938
- Язык: английский
- Год: The Red Star News Company
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 118, No. 6, April 16, 1938». Краткое содержание книги:
“Yes.”
“It’s about a mile on the other side of the state line. You turn to your right there. And it’s the third lane on your left. There’s a mailbox there that says Shady Rest Cottage. Have you got that?”
“Yes. Thanks a lot, Mrs. Hobson.”
“You’re quite welcome. I hope everything will be all right. But I can’t...”
“I’m sure everything will be fine,” I interrupted. “Thanks again.” I hung up.
“Come on, Millie,” I said. “We’re going for a ride in the country.”
The place wasn’t very hard to find. Highway 68 was concrete and carried a lot of traffic, but Riverside Trail was a narrow, gravel road with as many bends as a bowl of pretzels. We took our time, watching for lanes to the left. The first two were fairly close together, but it seemed we never would reach the third and for a while we were afraid we’d missed it. But finally we spotted it and I slowed up. The headlights touched a mailbox.
Millie had good eyes. “It says Shady Rest, R.R.9,” she said.
I stopped just past the lane and then backed into it. It wouldn’t hurt to have the coupe’s nose pointed the right way if things called for a quick getaway. I kept backing till we were well off the road. There wasn’t a light to be seen, so the cottage was probably pretty far back.
“Now you stay here,” I said. “In case I’m gone longer than I should be, or you hear anything that sounds like trouble, you head for civilization and call the law.”
Her chin went up and by the light from the dashboard I could see she was getting ready to show her temper. “I’ll do nothing of the kind,” she snapped. “I’m going with you.”
“You want to be a nuisance?”
She looked hurt, but her chin stayed high. “I won’t be. You’re one against two and they’ve got guns. You’re a fool to go in there, but since you’re going you can’t stop me from tagging along.”
“So you think I’m a fool, do you?”
She touched my hand and smiled. “I know you are, so don’t argue. I’m coming along and I may be a help.”
“Lot of help you’ll be,” I grumbled and got out of the car. She jumped out on the other side and we started up the lane together. The road turned to the right for about fifty yards and then sharply to the left. Through the trees we could see a faint light.
When we were about half a city block from the cottage I grabbed her arm. “Here’s where you wait, and I mean it. I’m going to see how things look.”
She didn’t kick and I walked on as quietly as I could till I came to a side window and looked in. They were there, all right, Grant and Mercer, and they were playing some kind of a card game, with a bottle and two glasses between them on the table. There was something else on the table — Grant’s wicked-looking, blue-steel automatic. It didn’t take a Solomon to see that it would be suicide to walk into the room with nothing but a pair of lists.
I found my way back to Millie, noticing as I went a big tree beside the road twenty yards from the house that two fair sized men could hide behind. Taking Millie by the arm I led her to the tree. “Did you ever throw a rock.”
“They used to call me a tomboy.”
“Swell. The only chance we have is to get one of them out of the cottage. That’s where you come in. I’m going up and park at the side of the house. You can lean over from behind this tree and throw stones at the front door. Get the idea?”
“Of course.”
“Good. And for Pete’s sake try to hit the door. If you hit me I’ll spank.”
She let out a little laugh and I crept back to the cottage and squatted down beside the porch. A few seconds later something landed on the steps. Then another stone hit the front of the porch. Millie hadn’t got the range yet, but the lane was well graveled and she had plenty of ammunition. Her next shot hit the door. Less than half a minute later a path of light swung across the steps.
Judging from the size, it was Grant who came out on the porch. He was in his shirtsleeves and something in his right hand glittered. He came out a few steps, looked around and rubbed his chin with his left hand. Then he went in and shut the door.
Another stone hit the door, hard. And then another. The door opened again. Looking through the window I could see Al Mercer sitting at the table with his chin propped on his hand, studying the cards before him. It looked like they were playing double solitaire. They must have been hitting the bottle pretty hard, too. It was almost ready to be laid away as a dead soldier.
I tore my eyes away from the window. Grant had left the porch. It was a fifty-fifty chance he’d go the other way, but he didn’t. His footsteps sounded louder. He passed in front of me, no more than five feet away. I got out of my crouch and jumped at him, swinging my right fist. It made a perfect landing on the side of his jaw and his head snapped back. The gun dropped from his hand and I scooped it up. He had staggered back a few paces and I closed in with the gun pointing at his middle.
“Walk back into the house in front of me,” I said, “or you’ll never walk again.”
He turned without a word and I walked behind him jabbing the gun in his back. He went up the steps and across the porch. I followed, walking softly. Mercer looked up as Grant came into the room and then jumped to his feet, reaching behind him. I poked the around Grant and pulled the trigger.
Mercer let out a yell and grabbed his right arm. I gave Grant a shove.
“Get over there with your pal,” I said.
Someone was running across the porch behind me. I hoped it was Millie. It was.
“The little guy’s got a gun in his hip pocket,” I said. “Go get it.”
She ran around me and over to Mercer and pulled a little revolver from his pocket like she was used to doing that sort of thing every day in the week.
“Give it to me, I always did want to be a two-gun man.”
She handed it over obediently.
“They’re both wearing neckties,” I went on, “just as if they were gentlemen. Take Grant’s off and tie his hands behind his back. And when we get through do the same thing with Mercer. Maybe you’re not as much of a nuisance as I thought you’d be.”
She flashed me a smile and went to work. A faint cry came from somewhere in the house. It sounded like a child in pain. Millie looked around at me, but I didn’t move. She went on with her job. Two minutes later she had them sitting on the davenport with their hands tied behind them. I noticed a little table at Grant’s right with a heavy looking ashtray on top of it. And under the table was the little black satchel I’d collected at the pawnshop. Just then the crying from the other room started up again.
“Go see about that,” I told Millie. She went through a door at the back and pretty soon the crying stopped. I looked around the room. There was a telephone on a small stand.
“All the comforts of home, hunh,” I said. “That’s fine.”
Millie came back into the room. “The poor kid,” she said. “He’s burning up with fever. And he keeps asking—” Her voice broke, “he keeps asking for his mamma.”
Al Mercer set up a howl. “What about me,” he yelled. “You shot me in the arm, you crazy fool. I’m bleeding. You want me to bleed to death?”
I looked at him. “I’d love for you to bleed to death,” l said. “Go right ahead.”
I handed Millie the automatic. “If they give you any excuse at all, you shoot. If you just feel like practicing, why shoot anyway. They’ve got it coming.”
IV
I picked up the receiver, dialed 0 for operator and got her quick. “Call police headquarters,” I said, “and tell them that the kidnapers of Kenneth Randall are at Shady Rest Cottage, Rural Route 9, Riverside. You got that? Then get to work. I’m not fooling.”