The Avenger - Gary Barton - Death's Option

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Back Stories from the pages of the Avenger

Nov 1940

DEATH’S OPTION

by Gary Barton

Jerry Kane couldn’t take his eyes off the girl—and it led to murder!

Next to taking rats apart—human rats—and forgetting to put them back

together again, I like to mingle with people. I like crowds, Iights, gaiety.

That’s how I came to be in Times Square that night. I was off duty. Rather,

I was officially off duty. That was before I saw the girl.

I don’t know why I happened to stroll into Marty’s. Maybe I wanted to sit

down a while after having been chasing out of homicide all day. Maybe I

wanted to have a beer and watch the show.

I know damn well I wasn’t thinking of murder!

But I started thinking about a lot of things when Iamped the girl sitting

in the corner booth; and they all didn’t have anything to do with her

figure. One of those gorgeous Broadway creations—raven-black hair, dark

eyes and that glamorous but cold beauty born in the theater.

But she wasn’t turning on the glamour, now. Her lips trembled; her eyes

were wlde and staring—staring at me! And they were filled with terror.

In a swift glance, I took in the party with her-the young, dark-haired

chap next to her: the heavy-set, middle-aged man at the head of the

table with the long, black cigar in his mouth; the paunchy, bald-headed

guy on the opposite side of the table, obviously on the make for the

hard-Iooking blonde on his right. They all seemed to be having a good

time, chatting among themselves.

All but the raven-tressed girl. I turned back toward her. But with that

fleeting, frightened glance she had looked away. But that was enough.

There was something wrong, here. I knew it! I could feeI it.

I wondered what I was supposed to do about it. I couldn’t just bust

in on that little party. I couldn’t—

I didn’t have to wonder any longer. The man’s blood-cillling scream

snapped me to my feet. I covered the yards to that table in two leaps.

The middle-aged at the head of the group had slumped across the table,

knocking glassware and service clattering to the floor. He lay with one

side of his face up; he clawed convulsively at the table linen. Bubbling,

gurgling sounds escaped from his lips. Then, like a spent balloon, he

spraddled out and lay still.

And tiny wisps of smoke drifted from his mouth!

I stood watching him for a moment, fascinated by those lazy curls of

smoke. Women were screaming, men shouting; everyone was clustering around

the table. The place was suddenly a bedlam! It, shook me out of my daze.

“Who is this guy?” I said to the little paunchy man who was nervously

wringing his hands next to me. It was the fellow who had been making the

play for the blonde. I said, “And who are you?” I bent down to examine

the dead man.

“He’s Lucius Goldswaite. He ... he must have had a heart attack or—”

“Heart attack—hell!” I snapped. I had seen the blue tinge on the otherwise

florid face. Goldswaite’s lips were purple-black; his tongue swollen. He was

dead! I said: “He’s been murdered!”

“M-murdered?” The short fellow seemed about to fold on that one. His jaw

sagged and his watery-blue eyes swam in his head. B-but-”

“Who are you?” I shot at him again.

“M-my name’s Gracey, Marshall Gracey. I’m ... was Mr. Goldswaite’s associate.”

Gracey—Goldswaite. The names clicked in my mind. Goldswaite & Gracey.

Lucius Goldswaite was the biggest theatrical producer on Broadway. It rang

another bell.

“Where’s that girl?” I looked through the mob that crowded the table. “The

babe with the black hair—the one that was sitting here?” I didn’t see her.

Gracey swung his eyes over the room, his mouth worked overtime. “Janet

Marsh? She was ... here a-”

A helluva lot of good that did me. She wasn’t here now! She’d lammed!

“Who is Janet Marsh?” I took a shot in the dark. “Why did she murder

Goldswaite?”

“She didn’t!” It was the darkhaired chap who had been sitting with Janet

Marsh. “She didn’t kill Goldswaite. She . . . she probably got frightened

and ... and-”

I’ll say she got frightened, I thought. She was frightened before the

producer was murdered!

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摘要：

BackStoriesfromthepagesoftheAvengerNov1940DEATH’SOPTIONbyGaryBartonJerryKanecouldn’ttakehiseyesoffthegirl—anditledtomurder!Nexttotakingratsapart—humanrats—andforgettingtoputthembacktogetheragain,Iliketominglewithpeople.Ilikecrowds,Iights,gaiety.That’showIcametobeinTimesSquarethatnight.Iwasoffduty.Ra...

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