Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

10 steely gi'oy eyes and dressed in a shabby brown suit and grease-stained veloiir hat that gave him the appearance of any- thing but a sharp and very successful detective. Roy's request for information concern- ing Piccardi and Big Boy had met with immediate lesiwnse. Brady would be pleased to tell him all he knew about those two powerful gangsters, and what ■was more show him where Piccardi had his hide-out—perhaps even give him the chance to come face to face with that terror of the underworld. So it was that Roy came to the Blue Dragon, and as he cast his eyes about the trim and neat little restaurant he marvelled that such a place should harbour so desperate a character as Pic- cardi. Then Roy's gaze came to rest on the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Dark- haired, with big blue eyes and neatly, though quietly, dressed in a pale-blue frock with lace trimmings. She was sit- ting by Jierself at one of the tables in a far corner of the room, and as she became aware that the boy was looking at her she gave him the faintest of smiles that caused the youngster's heart to beat a trifle fa.-^ter. Little did Roy dream that Doris White, looking for all the world like some demure schoolgirl, was in reality a very clo5e friend of Piccardi's, one of the two gangsters lie hoped to expose through the medium of the "Daily Bulletin"! "Come along, kid." Brady touched Roy's arm, and as the youngster turned back to him the detective jerked his head towards a door on the left-hand side of the restaurant. "If Piccardi's anywhere around he'll be in there. A private room, and as the door's bound to be locked we'll have to knock." He drove Roy over to the door and rapped upon its panels. A wait of a moment or two during which time the door was unlocked so quietly, that even the alert detective failed to hear any sound, then: "Come in," came the call in a feminine voice. - Brady grasped the handle, turned it «nd opened the door. Then, with an- other motion of his head to Roy, he marched into the room with the youngster close at hie heels. "Hallo, Lita," Brady nodded in a casual way as the girl looked up from the chesterfield where she had swiftly seated herself after unlocking the door. "Piccardi not at home?" "The boss?" Lita arched her eye- brows as she dropped the magazine she had caught up. "No, I don't think he is." "Too bad. Just my luck when I'd brought a young friend specially round to meet him.'' He indicated Roy with a jerk of his thumb the while his keen eyes were sweeping the room. Obvious to him that Piccardi had been there quite re- cently, and others with him. The thick pile of carpet was ruffled as by many jiaii-B of feet while the smell of scented tobacco smoke hung thickly on the air— the scent of the perfumed cigarettes that Brady knew Piccardi smoked. A long, lingering look at that door across the loxjui that opened into the smaller apart- ment, then the detective's gaze came back to the girl who, after a cursory nod to Rov, had been watching Brady rlosoly." "Well, Lita. tell Piccardi I called and that I'll be seeing him some time. You won't forget, will you?" She nodded, wondering, with fear clutching at her heart, if Brady had at last got something on Piccardi. But that it was impossible to tell—the detec- Septembcr 261 li, 1031. BOY'S CINEMA five's inscrutable face gave nothing away. And then Brady was gone, with never another word, and Roy with him. b • ■ . . Roy was partaking of a somewhat be- lated tea on that pleasant summer's even- ing. Though a trifle disappointed at not having come face to face with the dread Piccardi, he nevertheless felt more than a little elated that he was acquainted with the scoundi-el's hide-out, knew the description of the man. With this in- formation in his possession he could form his own plans—work all he knew to ex- pose him in the sheet for which he was now a news-hound. It was as the boy was thus ruminating that a high-powered car came racing along the street down below. Some dozen or so yards from the building in which Roy was munching his tea, its speed slackened considerably, and the nearside door swung wide. Level with Roy's home, and then something shot out of the vehicle and came to rest in the gutter in a grotesque heap. Barely had it touched groimd than the car was siiecding away again, its doers leclosed. A bullet riddled body, and a woman who happened to be passing along the side-walk at that moment let out a frantic scream as her horrified eyes en- countered the corpse. Instantly there came the sound of run- ning feet, growing clearer as the purr of the high-powered car died in the dis- tance. Next second, half a dozen men and women, with a uniformed policeman in their midst, crowded around the hys- terically shouting woman and the form that lay so lifeless by the kerb. "By gai—murder!" exclaimed Police Officer Simms after a brief glance at the corpse, and promptly whipped out his whistle and blew three thrill blasts on it. Attracted by the sudden commotion Roy rose from the tea-table, went over to the window and peered down into the street. Clearly he could see the lifeless figure of the man, the little knot of people clustered curiously around with the policeman striving to keep them back, and his journalistic instincts were at once aroused. Perhaps here was the makings of an excellent story for the "Bulletin "—perhaps even a scoop! No sooner did the thought occur to him than he was darting from the room. Down the two flights of stairs to the street. He came to the little cluster of people gathered on the pavement, and pushed eagerly through them. But then his progress was impeded by the grim- faced policeman who thrust out a gnarled fist and held him back. "Now then, yoimker, you clear oflf!" he growled officiously. "But I'm Press—see this!" Roy quickly jerked his official jiass from his breast-pocket and thrust it under the officer's nose. "I'm hoping there's a story here for my paper, officer." Police-officer Simms nodded, satisfied with the youngster's credentials. "Right! Fire ahead, sir!" he said tersely. "It's murder!" Roy replaced his pass, and as the policeman again set to work to keep back the curious crowd which was fast increasing its numbers, he dropped to his knees beside the dead man. But the face was turned downwards, so it was necessary for Roy to lift the head if he was to obtain a description of the man's features. Gently he did this and then a fiorri- fied expression leaped into his face, and he gave an agonised cry. "Heavens, it—it's Howard—Howard !" he gasped pathetically Every Tuesday With the tears rushing to hia eyes he swept the lifeless body into his arms, hugging it close, while those on tlo pavement cast curious eyes at him. Then Police-officer Simms turned hii head, quickly moved forward and clutched Roy's arm imperatively. "Say, you can't do that!" he said commandingly. "The body mustn't bo moved till " "But, officer"—Roy turned his tear- dimmed eyes on the man—"he—he's my brother." A gasp ran around the watchers and the officer looked at the boy incredu- lously. "Your brother?" he echoed. "Why, kid, he's " The officer broke off as there came the unmistakable whine of a police tender, and next second the van came swinging round a near-by corner into Fourtcentii Street. It pulled up almost in its own length beside Roy, who still clung to his brother's lifeless form, and at once three uniformed figures leaped out from the back, to be followed more slowly by a shabbily-dressed, wizened-faced little man with steely grey eyes. A hurried conclave with Police-officer Simms, and then the plain-clothes man strode up to Roy and touched him on the shoulder, while two of the uniformed men from police headquarters went back to the tender and dragged out the stretcher that I'eposed there. "Come along, kid; take it easy." But as Roy looked dully up at him, the plain-clothes man caught in his breath. "Gee, it's you, Roy Smith!" "Ye-yes, Mr. Brady." Roy's voice was little more than a hoarse whisper as he dragged himself wretchedly to his feet, his face. whit« and strained, the tears still glistening in his eyes, striving to find an outlet. "He—he was my brother." "Your brother!" Detective Brady looked as astounded as Police-officer Simms had done. '"Big Boy—yout brother?" "Big Boy?" echoed Roy dazedly. "What do vou mean? I—^I don't under- stand." The detective glanced towards the uniformed men who had placed the dead gangster on the stretcher and were now bearing it towards the back of the police tender, followed by many pairs of curious eyes. "Just that that man's Big Boy, the notorious gang-leader, kid," Brady said quietly. "And I'll wager all I've got that he's been bumijed off by his greatest enemy, Piccardi!" Big Boy—his brother! The revelation almost stunned Roy, and it was with the utmost effort that he took a grip on his reeling senses. A terrible dis- covery. To think his brother was a gangster—a muixlerer! Bu.t his brotherly affection for the dead man did not allow Roy to turn against him in revulsion. Howard had always been so good and kind to him —had kept him for years: had been both father and mother to him since the death of their parents many years ago. Only Howard's good side did he know; and, knowing it, a hot rage stormed up in his breast. "Piccardi killed my brother!" lie hissed through clenched teeth. ■ " By heavens. I'll not rest till I've avenged Howard's death! I swear I won't!" The police tender had sped away and Police-officer Simms had succeeded in dispersing the curious onlookers, though one or two still remained at a distance, (heir eyes focused on the raging boy and Detective Brady standing so quietly bsside hira. i