Evening star. [volume], March 16, 1941, Page 5, Image 92

About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
A Short Story Complete in This Issue
This Dan McGarry, of the detective
bureau downtown, is no different from
a lot of other guys when his pride is
nicked. He gets sore, and then he won’t let
out his mad on the right people. Instead, who
ever is closest to him has to take the rap,
and in Dan's case this is his mouse Kitty,
the little dame he is all set to marry when
she says the word.
It all begins when Dan makes a lucky
pinch and clears up a small loft robbery and
gets a pat on the back for it from his lieuten
ant, who says it is nice police work. “Aw,
shucks,” Dan says, flushing up because the
lieutenant hands him this sugar in front of
everybody in the squad room, “there was
nothing to it. We just sat down and figured
out the way it must have happened.”
“We?” says the lieutenant. “1 thought you
were working alone:
"I talked it over at home with my girl
Kitty,” says Dan, and the snickers that come
from the boys around him make him realize
he has given them the tip-off.
Of course a lot of the boys have it figured
anyway, knowing Dan and knowing his
Kitty, that she is the brains in back of every
thing he does. But this is the first time Dan
comes out and admits it. Before he goes home
that night he gets such a riding as you have
never heard, about being the smartest cop
on the force by remote control.
It cuts deep because it is mostly true.
Whenever Dan gets in a tough spot he tells
Kitty the setup and then he sits back play
ing Dr. Watson to her Sherlock Holmes
while she figures out the angles for him. So
this evening he is in such a mood he doesn’t
even want to see his Kitty till he cools off,
but this is out of the question because her
mother has asked him to dinner. Kitty sees
he is not himself, but she thinks it is nothing
worse than a minor grouch, and she starts in
gayly with, “Well, Inspector, what are we
working on tonight?”
Dan freezes up. "What do you mean we?"
'Oh, two heads are better than one, aren’t
they?” says Kitty. "Maybe I can help.”
And this is where Dan lets out his mad on
the innocent bystander. "1 don’t need your
help,” he yaps. "Who is the cop in this out
fit, anyway? You talk like 1 can’t do a thing
by myself, and that is a crack I don’t like
worth a cent.”
Kitty gives him a look. “I’ve been able
to help you out now and then in the past,”
she says, icing up some herself.
"So you want all the credit,” barks Dan,
"just because I am willing to talk things
over with you!” This is not like him at all
— he is always ready to give her the credit
and admit she is the smartest little mouse in
town and himself the dumbest cop. But not
tonight. Not after that kidding he has to
take from the boys downtown. Of course.
McGARRY, HIS MOUSE, AND
THE GREAT GANG WAR
Your old friend, Inspector McGarry, gets a special
assignment. But this time he's working without the
help of his girl Kitty. And will you be surprised!
by Matt Taylor
Illustrated by James Montgomery Flagg
underneath in his subconscious mind—if
Dan has one — he is just looking for an out.
No guy likes to take the rap if he can pass
it along, and all of a sudden it seems to him
like Kitty is to blame for everything.
This is about all the yapping Kitty can
take. “If you think I’m cutting in on your
credit,” she snaps, “I won’t intrude with any
more suggestions.”
Dan is not counting on a jolt like this, and
his jaw drops. How he can get along without
his Kitty helping him in his job he doesn’t
know. “Oh, I don't mind telling you what’s
going on,” he says, “as long as you are so
interested.”
“I’m not interested any more,” says Kitty.
“From now on you can go along on your
own.”
Inis makes it stncuy take it or.leave it,
so what can Dan do? “Maybe you think I
can’t?” he says, with his chin in the air.
"Maybe,” says Kitty.
Dan stands up. He is the picture of dig
nity, except that his ears are red like always
when he is mad. “You will find out,” he says,
and starts for the door. In the hall he can
smell that dinner cooking, but he doesn’t
stop. That’s how dignified he is.
All the way downtown the next morning
he keeps his hands in his pockets, because he
doesn’t want people on the bus to notice he
has his fingers crossed. The only thing in the
world that matters is a chance to show Kitty
what he can do on his own. And sure enough,
the break comes. At high noon, at a down
town factory, a bunch of mugs pull the big
gest payroll holdup in the city’s history,
and make a clean getaway.
There is more excitement and running
around at police headquarters than Dan has
ever seen, and it looks like the whole detec
tive squad will bear down on the payroll thugs
even if they leave the town wide open for
the other mugs. So when Dan is told to report
to the District Attorney’s office for special
duty, he is sure he is going to handle some
angle of the big stick-up.
But he doesn’t see the D. A. He sees a
Mr. Wickers, who is the D. A.’s sixth assist
ant. This Mr. Wickers is young and pink
cheeked, with a strip of mustache across his
lip, and he sits behind a desk that is several,
sizes too big for him. He looks Dan over and
says, “You’ll do, officer. You’re just the type.
Sit down.”
Dan sits on the edge of a chair with his
hands in his pockets and his fingers crossed.
"This matter,” says Mr. Wickers, “con
cerns a little guy we are holding in the city
jail on suspicion.”
“One of the payroll mob?” asks Dan
hopefully.
“The D. A. will handle that case person
ally,” says Mr. Wickers. “This prisoner is
suspected of stuffing telephone coin boxes.
We’ve got to stamp out this petty larceny,
officer.”
“Oh, sure,” sighs Dan.
“I can’t hold him long without sufficient
evidence,” says Mr. Wickers, “so I want you
to make him talk.”
"It’s our new model," said
Uncle Clarence. "Really, a
most popular little item"
Dan squirms in his chair, because he does
n’t like this idea at all. “I don’t mind push
ing ’em around if they are my size,” he says.
‘‘But if he is a little guy I am no good at all.”
Mr. Wickers laughs heartily. “You don’t
have to rubber-hose the prisoner,” he says.
“You will outsmart him.”
“Me outsmart somebody?”
“You will change into some old clothes
and dirty up a bit,” says Mr. Wickers, "and
then we’ll put you in the jug with this pris
oner.”
"What have I done to be thrown in the
jug?” asks Dan, blinking across the desk.
“You haven’t done anything,” says Mr.
Wickers. "But the prisoner won’t know that.
You'll share his cell with him and he will
think you’re a fellow crook. You’ll win his
confidence, and he’ll spill everything he
knows. The courts may not always approve
of evidence obtained by deception, but they
can’t refuse to hear it.”
"Suppose he won’t talk?” asks Dan.
“Oh,” says Mr. Wickers, "in that case I
will have to let you both go after two or three
days.”
Dan groans. With the whole city popping
mad about the biggest stick-up in history,
he is going to spend three days in jail trying
to pin something on a two-bit crook. He
goes home, and before he changes into his old
clothes, he drops in on Kitty to tell her he
is going to be busy for a few days.
She is all excited when he walks in, be
cause a wire has just come from her Uncle
Clarence, and he says he is getting to town
Saturday afternoon on a business trip. Dan
remembers Uncle Clarence from his last visit.
He is a jolly little guy about five feet high,
with a fifty-inch waist and thick glasses and
a bald spot; but he isn’t anything to laugh at,
because he is a successful toy manufacturer
in New York, with a couple of retail toy
stores besides, and if he doesn’t come through
with at least a set of solid silver for a wedding
(Continuod on pago 17)