Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

Mad bot 11 stencilled, " Read the ' Bee- Clarion.' " "I wish we had another cut of the Chief," remarked Pi lugubriously. "Tliis one gums up so he looks like a ton of coal." "Say," interposed Mary Lou, "you two had better get washed. Dinner's almost ready." "Go ahead. Pi," urged Steve. "I'll call Howard and Pete." The old compositor shuffled off to cleanse his hands; Mary Lou bustled about, sotting a large table near the press for the meal that «as imminent: and Steve went and got tlie hooked pole with which the outside blind was raised and lowered, and used it to knock upon the ceiling. The upper floor had a separate entrance from the street, and up there was the office of Peter Sparks, [NLD., wlio was an excellent young man, a college chum of Steve's, and quite possibly an excellent doctor. But he hadn't any practice—or any money to speak of—and he was sitting at an open window, smoking a pipe, when he heard Steve's knock. He banged on the floor, and then he leaned out of the window. "Howard!" he sliouted. "Hi, Howard!" A window above the draper's shop next door was opened, and Howard Adams, a curly-headed young man witli a wisp of a moustache above lips that were rather full, 'caned out over tlie sill. He also was a chuui of Steve'.s—a budding attorney without any clients. "What is it?" he shouted back. "They're ready for us!" bellowed Pete. "Be right with you!" [n slightly less than three minutes Howard Adams was in Peter's room. "Another busy day, doc?" he inquired, eyeing a piece of wood on a desk littered with make-believe legal documents. "Terrific," declared Peter, and he picked up the piece of wood, most of which had been converted, laboriously, into a chain. "With luck I should finish this thing by Thursday. How are you coming along with your solitaire?" "It got me down to-day," confessed Howard. " What you need is a good steady client to break the monotony." "What I need is a good dinner ! We ought to bury our pride and let Mary Lou's mother feed us oftener." ' "Now you know you don't mean that." "My pride doesn't, but my stomach does." Howard pointed to a fran)ed photograph on the desk. "Look at us—just a year ago." The photograph was of himself, Steve, and Peter, wearing caps and gowns and holding diplomas. " We sin-e were going to burn up the world," said Peter. "I can still hear that senator when he handed lis those sheepskins." Howard struck an attitude and quoted from memory : "'The cities are crowded, but the towns and villages need you ! In the words of the great Horace Greolev, "Co West, young man, go West !" ' Bah !" "Come ovi." Peter tugged him away from the desk. "You're depressing me." The food that was on the table, when they entered the printing works, gave them botifj a shock. "Quick, doc, a pill!" cried Howard. "I'm delirious!" "Well, if you see what I do," said Peter, "we're both deliriotis." "Don't worry," laughed Mary Lou, who had just brought in the steak, "it's real." The meal was demolished, and over the coffee the three chums smoked. But Pi, having expressed his appreciation and his thanks, became busy at a type case. "Now I love everybody," declared Howard, who was on Mary Loti's right at the table. "So do I," declared Peter. "Even healthy people." "I wish Obadiah owed mo some money." "What's the matter with lis, anyhow?" Peter wanted to know. "The way people avoid my office you'd think_ I was giving away siclcness instead of curing it." "Oh," suid Howard, "we're ' furriners.' " "What's a 'furrincr'?" asked Mary Lou. January 20th, 1940. BOY'S CINEMA " Anyone smart enough to have been born outside the town limits," Steve told her. "I beg your pardon," she bridled. "I was born here." "We know that, honey," soothed Pctor, "but you're different. When you stand up your eyes open." "If only something worth while would hap- pen," growled Steve, biting on the stem of his pipe. " Something to give me one real headline. That's all I ask." Peter offered to burn down the town hall in return for a free subscription to the paper. "Oh, wonderful!" cried Mary Lou. "Then Howard can defend you in court !" " Arson's rather dull stuff," demurred the young attorney. "Could you make it a murder?" "If I killed anybody in this town," said Peter, "how would I know when he was dead?" Howard said he could prove that half the population was legally deceased already. Steve complained that none of them was decent enough to lie down and give him a headline. "Meanin' die?" inquired Pi Kelly, walk- ing over to the table with a composing stick in his hands. "One of 'em did." Four amazed faces were turned in his direc- tion and questions were fired at him. "Tad Herkimer," he said, always economical with his words. "This after- noon." "Who's Tad Herkimer?" asked Howard. "Oh. just a poor old man," replied Mary Lou charitably. "He's the town soak," said Steve with no charity whatever. " He has an old run-down farm out on the West Road," Mary Lou went on. "His daughter works at Casey's lunch-stand." "Oh,." said Howard, "you mean that blonde with the ugly mouth and sullen manner." "Just my luck it had to be Tad," lamented Steve. "He's the one man in this town whose death means absolutely nothing to anyone. Where did it happen?" "On his farm, from what I heard," Pi replied. " Well, I guess I'd better run out and take a look round. Anybody care to come along?" "I'll go," volunteered Howard. "His daughter might need someone to act for her in clearing up the estate." "Estate?" Steve laughed. "A run-down farm and fifty empty bottles ! How about it, doc—will you come?" Peter responded that ho might as well, and Mary Lou was invited to make it a four- some, but declined. "I'll stay here and clean up," she said. FANESVILLE COMES TO LIFE IN an open two-seater that was joint property and a relic of college days, the three travelled out of town upon the high- way known as West Road, turned in at a tumble-down gateway, bumped over the un- even surface of a yard, and came to a bungalow farmhouse which was in a bad state of disrepair. They deserted the car, mounted a porch, and rang the bell of the front door. To their surprise it was a full-faced and blue-eyed man, named Martin Collins, who opened the door. He looked dissipated and he reeked of spirits. He was about thirty-five and shorter than the visitors. " Why, hallo. Sfeve !" he said thickly. "Come in—yeah, come iri !" The three followed him into a shabbily fur- nished sitting-room, where a blonde girl whose outstanding features Howard had described accurately enough was slumped in a chair at the end of a table, upon which there was a bottle of whisky, a siphon, and a couple of tumblers. She took no notice of them. "I—er—I don't believe I've met your friends," mumbled Martin Collins. Steve introduced them. ".Just call me Marty," said Collins, and he shook the girl's shoulder. "Molly, this is Steve Lewis, Doc Sparks, and—and Mis'r Adams." "Hallo!" murmured Molly Herkimer. Every Tuesday "We're havin' a wake," explained Collins. "Drink?" Steve declined and bent over the girl. "May I extend my sympathies?" "Thanks," she responded dully. "I'd like to say something about Mr. Herkimer's death in the ' Bee-Clarion.' Can you tell me what happened?" The girl did not reply, but Martin Collins was glib enough. "Sure!" said he. "Oh, sure! Molly come home from work and found him in the barn with a broken jug beside him. When she couldn't wake him she sent for Doc Tyler. Doc said that Herkimer had been dead for maybe an hour." Steve made a note of that on a piece of paper and asked if Dr. Tyler had stated tho cause of death. "Yeah," nodded Collins, "he called it some long name, meanin' a dud heart. If you want my opinion, the old boy drank too much. Er—wouldjer like to see the remains?" "Well " "Don't you wanta see him?" Collins waved a hand towards an open door at the far end of the room. "Go on—go ahead. It'll make her feel better." . ■■ Steve looked at his companions, his com- panions nodded, and they all three went into the bedroom beyond the open door. "Marty, what're they doin'?" asked the blonde girl stupidly. " Payin' their respec's to the deceased." Collins poured himself another drink and replenished her glass. "Oh!" The three were not in the bedroom for very long. "He sure does look natural, doesn't he?" suggested Collins as they reappeared. "Yes," said Steve. "Now, if there is any- thing we can do to help " "No, I can take care of everything." Collins led the way to the front door. "It was nice of you to come over, fellas; thanks so much. Good-night." He closed the door as though not sorry to get rid of them, and they descended from the porch to the two-seater. "Say, who's that Collins fellow?" questioned Howard. "Molly's boy friend," Steve answered. "What does he do? ' asked Peter. " I think he works in the pool-room, he seems to be around there all the time." "That gill didn't seem to be taking it very hard." "No," said Howard disgustedly. "You'd think she'd have more respect than to—to " "Oh, I wouldn't be too hard on her," Steve cut in. "From what I've heard the old man was a long way from being a real father. The girl might have amounted to something if he'd given her half a chance." They got into the car, and on the way back to town Steve asked Howard, as a lawyer, whether a paper could be sued for hinting—casually hinting—that a man's death looked mysterious. Howard replied that it depended upon tho circumstances. "All right, a certain man is found dead. He has a bruise on his jaw and cuts on his "Herkimer didn't have any cuts," inter- rupted Peter. "He did," asserted Steve. "I saw them. "Oh, just a few scratches. Probably got them the last time he shaved, and undoubtedly collected that little bruise when he passed out and fell on his face." "Uhuh!" Steve drove in silence for a while, but he was thinking, and suddenly he said: " Herkimer was dead when Molly found him. So it could have been murder. Peter, you saw him. Would you say that " "I'm a doctor," rebuked Peter. "I can't jump to conclusions." • "Would you take an oath that ho wasn't murdered ?" "I wouldn't swear to anything without per- forming an autopsy." Steve gave him a quick and delighted glance. "That's all I want to know," he chirped. "Doc, you're the answer to a newspaper man's prayer 1"