Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

tlat ortff Every Tuesday that I was in an all-niKht card game exactIv at the time the robbery was pulled?" "You think of everything, don t you? gibed Grazzi. •• Surc^evcn gloves." "What about heels?" aslced Dann\-. "What's the Rag?" Bixby looi<.>d from one set face to another. "No gag," Grazzi informed him. "We've got something up our sleeve, that's all." "The only thing you've got up .^■our sleeve is a handkerchief!" "All right." gritted Dugan. "Show him the print, Danny." Dann\- sped from the room and returned with the photograph of the heel-print. He handed it to BixDv, who turned it this way and that, as though he could not make out what it was. "You said the cop was shot." he com- mented. "What did I do, kick him to death?" "That's a photograph of your heel- print." said Danny. "It was found behind the counter in that jewellery store and identified bv your custom shoemaker. It's just as good as a fingerprint—maybe better. Because, nowadays, juries are scientifically minded," Bixbv looked defiantly at Dugan. "Why don't you book me and try to make the evidence stick?" "We don't want you. Bixby," was the slow reply. "We want the man you're workin' for. Who is he?" "I'm no fink. I never stooled in my life." "You'd sell out your grandmother for a hmidred bucks!" declared Grazzi. "Just call him on the telephone," urged Danny. "Say anything—only keep him talking. We'll do the rest." "Yeah." encouraged Dugan, "and after vou turn State's evidence a suspended sen- tence won't be hard to take, either." Bixby sucked his underlip between his teeth, frowning thoughtfully. "Sorry," he said, after a while, "but I'll have to take my chances with the jury. If I talked. I'd find myself trying to float on the bottom of the river." Dugan stood up, masking his disappoint- ment. "Okay. Bixby," he said gruffly. "You've had yoiu' chance. Go ahead, Grazzi, book him.." BOY'S CINEMA Dannv shook his head "Aw, what's the use of trying to kid our- selves?" he protested. "Let him go. The guv didn't fall for that phoney print, ana, besides, he's got an airtight alibi." He snatched the photograph of the heel- print from Bixb.\'s hand and tore it to pieces, while Dugan and Grazzi stood dumbfounded. Bixb\- bounded to his feet. "A phoney, eh?" he exclaimed. "Thanks for the parlv, suckers." He made for the door, waved a hand, and disappeared. Grazzi slammed the door and found his tongue, "What's the idea, tearing up " " Fine work, tellin' him that print was a fake!" Dugan broke in savagely, "We've still got the negative." said Dannv quietl.^■. "and we can always get him with that picture. Now he's bound to go to his boss and brag about how we let him go with an apolog,\'. And Grazzi and I can tail him." Grazzi had little eyes, but they looked big enough at that moment. "Say," he breathed, "that's using your head, kid!" "Simple ps\chology." said Danny modestly, arid looked at Dugan. "What do you think of it. captain?" "Well, what are you stallin' around for?" barked Dugan. "Bixby won't wait for you all day!" DANNY PAYS A VISIT BIXBY went straight from the police- station to the building in Fifth Avenue where Banford conducted his busi- ness and several other jewellers had offices. Crystal Morland was attending to a woman customer who had brought a broocii to be repaired, and he lingered at a show-case till the woman had departed. "I heard the police had run you in," Crystal said then, and in a troubled voice. "Yeah," drawled Bixby, joining her beside her desk. "In and right out again." "Oh, I wish you wouldn't be so reck- less." He took her into his arms. "Now, now," he chided, "don't worry about me, honey! I'm not taking any chances." The boast was a foolish one. Frenchy was in Banford's private office, standing near the panelled wall between the two rooms. Set in that wall, behind a picture, was a sheet of gla.ss which looked like mi ordinary mirror in the sliow-ioom. bi.> acluall.'' was a trick mirror of the sort u.scd bv illusionists on the stage. So thinh <.va.-. the glass silvered that from the back oi..- could see quite plainly through it. French.\ looked through it to see who was in the show-room, and he said over iiis shoulder to Banford, who was at his desk : "Take a look through the mirror. You might see something interesting." "What do you mean?" Banford ques- tioned. "Cherchez la femme, I always say." Banford stepped over to the minor and Frenchy held the picture-frame aside for him. Oiit in the show-room Bixby was kiss- ing Crystal Morland. Banford was not wearing his unneces- sary pince-nez, and his brown eyes glinted murderously as he watched. "Get what I mean?" inquired Frenchy. Banford replaced the picture as Bixby turned towards the door of the room. "Why didn't you tell me before?" he rapped. French^' shrugged and sat down in a chair. "Better for you to see with your o\^"n eyes," he said. There was a knock at the door. " Come in," called Banford, and there was no sign of fury in his face as Bixby entered and closed the door behind him. "Well, what's the matter?" he asked, "didn't they have a cell your size? I was just getting ready to set bail for you." "The only thing they had on me." said Bixby airily. " was their eyes." "Are you sure you weren't followed?" Such a possibility had not entered Bixby's head. "Followed?" he scoffed. "I left those flatfeet with their tongues tied in knots." "I hope so," growled Banford. Crystal was at her desk, dealing with a telephone call, when Danny sauntered into the show-room. She eyed him appraisingly while she talked to the customer, and he stood looking down at her. "Can I help you?" she asked, as she put down the telephone. "Yes," said Danny. "I was supposed to meet a friend of mine hei'e—a Mr. Bixby." " Mr. Bixby?" She repeated the name as though it were unfamiliar. "Well, I'm afraid he's late." "Well," said Danny, "in the meantime Casey was beyond human aid, and Dugan lowered him gently to the pavement again Novoinirefiltli. 1959.