Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 211, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 January 1934 — Page 27

JAN*. 12. 1931

9k UNKNOWN BLOND By _ Ixnw leu RROOKMAN TO C i<m no vr/sce. _

BF GIN HFRF TODAV Who TRACY KIVO. rrh*i*r ]*<■: ff.ur.d d:.d .:. h: •prfmnt? DAVIT' BANNIPTER ,<u*: or forrr.fr n"**ppr reporter out. Police art ware nine for *n "inkr. nr. blond i ho ■;sit*d K.r.a ahorfiv bef-r* dfa• Bnr, '-r r,a !n Ih j c;rl r :* r.f ha- di.tappfftrfd aide*. HERMAN eCI'RI.ACH. - no rol Kin* a threatening >**r '■ ).. H* daturn nu .:.:.or;..f IS. *or<aon thf rarf a :th J RANDOLPH GAINEY. tar rrpor'fr of the Pov Ir. T.r dead mini aparmn’ Bannivrr picks ;p n old-faihiourd arddlne picture *h;rh he keep* AL DRUGAN friend of King's sav* the orcheitra leader had been having trouble • ith JOE PARROTT, hi* former ■ a idevllle partner and arcuses Parrott cf the murder Oamev and Bann.ster go ’o see tea.' .v DENISE I.ANO. K.i.f fiancee. PARKER COLEMAN an old friend, a.so calls While th.e- are there Drr.ise s fa’ner appears ar.d angr .v demands that the newspaper men leave NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER SIXTEEN* (Continued) "Right,” Gainey nodded. Coleman’s eyes left the road ahead for an instant. "Is that a fact?” he a-sked. T didn't know they could estimate the time so exactly.” Gainey launched into a technical explanation of the coroner’s work. Bannister found the details a trifle nauseous and deliberately tried not to listen. He heard Coleman asking if he should turn at the next block and Gainey's answer in the affirmative. A minute more and the reporter had drawn up before the ancient brick building that served as central police headquarters. Bannister and Gainey stepped out of the car. Coleman waved aside their thanks for the lift and the roadster was off again down the street. 'That’s a nice guy,” Gainey commented as he mounted the steps of the building. Bannister nodded. "Wouldn’t you think Denise Lang would prefer him to the crooning orchestra leader?” ‘‘Aw nerts!” Gainey became suddenly philasophical. “Who can tell anything about a woman?” Inside the building they paused to speak to a blue-coated officer. Yes, he said, Captain McNeal was around the building somewhere. They might look In his office upstairs. For the second time that day Bannister climbed the flight of stairs. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CAPTAIN OLIVER M'NEAL brought the front legs of his chair to the floor with a resounding whack. “Well!" he exclaimed, "will you look who's here—?" Bannister grinned from the doorway. "Hello, Cap," he said. "Hope you don’t mind callers.” Gainey, just behind, edged into the room and slumped into the nearest chair. McNeal was on his feet now. ‘‘Davey, my lad!” he said, grasping Bannister's hand. "I thought you were in California! I thought you were away making a big name for yourself. What in blazes do you mean, turning up in my office? Looking fine, you are—” ‘‘And you're looking terrible,” Bannister told him. well aware that this was the proper answer. “Well, Cap, I’m back on the job. Understand you’ve got a little murder case on. Getting a little slow on your feet, aren't you, letting twentyfour hours go by without bringing In the guilty person?” “Back on the job?” McNeal eyed him dubiously. “You mean you're working for the Post again?” ‘‘That's it,” Bannister told him. "Uhin!” McNeal grunted. "That's different!" He scowled. "Thought we’d got rid of you. once and for all. What'd you want to come back here for?” "Don't take it too hard,” Bannister urged, still grinning. "You see. it isn't permanent. Jim Paxton told me he was short-handed and I agreed to go to work for him for a while. McNeal dropped back in his chair. ‘‘Just as much lip as ever," he announced, shaking his head. But there was admiration in the blue eyes raised to Bannister’s. Admira-

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This Curious World Ferguson ■

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•ion and liking. The exchange ol tru'd insults meant merely that Captain McNeal and David Banriister were old friends. B • B BANNISTER seated himself on the edge of the desk. ' Weil—?” Gainey, across the room removed his hat and inspected its less than perfect outline. What’s the dope now? Got a confession from Scurlach yet?” McNeal shook his head. "We’re keeping him locked up, just the same." "Think you'll get one?” Gainey persisted. "I don't know. We’ve got a line on another suspect—” I know,” Gainey said languidly. You mean Joe Parrott. Do you think you'll find him?” "Os course we’ll find him!” the captain snorted. "I suppose you've been talking to Drugan, have you?” The oaths that followed were not flattering to Mr. Drugan. "I wish he and learn to keep his mouth shut,” McNeal went on. Banister interrupted. "Drugan seems to be pretty sure this fellow Parrott is the one who did the shooting.” McNeal nodded. “We've a surprise or two in store for Mr. Drugan.” he said darkly. “What do you mean?" “I won't say any more about it now,” McNeal answered. "Wait a day or two.” Gaines' leaned forward. “On the level, McNeal.” he said, “who do you think killed King?” The captain frowned. “I’m not saying anything." he told them, “until we have that girl here.” “You mean the ‘unknown blond’?” jibed Gainey. “Don’t make me laugh! There never was such a girl. Somebody down here made up that fairy tale!” “She wasn't ‘made up’!” McNeal said stoutly. “And were going to her here.” BBS BANNISTER felt that he wanted to change the subject. "Speaking of blonds,” he said, “we’ve been talking to one—Denise Lang.” McNeal looked up. interested. “So she can talk now!” he exclaimed. "What did she tell you?” "Not much. Didn't have a chance. Her father appeared on the scene—” McNeal tapped the desk sharply with a lead pencil. "Say,” he said, "did it strike you there is something queer about that bird?” "There's plenty queer.” Gainey put in indignantly, “about the way he treats reporters! I’d like to take a sock at him.” McNeal gave him a withering glance. “Well, that’s too bad.” he said tartly. “Maybe he’s not so queer as I thought.” He went on seriously, turning to Bannister, Maybe you think we’re not getting anywhere on this case, but we've done a lot of work. Lots of people involved. 1 Have to talk to 'em and check their stories. Arthur Lang’s a big man in this town, but that doesn't give him all the privileges he thinks it does. No. sir! Lang says he was in his office from 8:30 until 10 o'clock last night. Nobody saw him go there, or leave, so far as we’ve been able to check.” “You're not accusing him of shooting his prospective son-in-law, are you?" Bannister asked. “I’m not accusing hm of anything,” McNeal said. “ —yet. But he's got to come across with the truth. I dop't believe he was in that office last night. I don't see why someone wouldn’t have seen him—the elevator boy or a night watchman or someone.” 808 “T ISTEN, McNeal,” Bannister JL said suddenly, “there's something I picked up this afternoon that may not be important, but I think you should know it.” “Picked up where?” (To Be Continued)

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FKECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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ALLEY OOP

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BOOTS AHD HER BUDDIES

TARZAN THE INVINCIBLE

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For three days and nights, priests of Opar relieved each other at intervals to guard Tarzan, but on the fourth day Tarzan discovered that the corridor was empty. If he could unfasten the heavy bolt holding the door on the other side, he would be free.

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

The small opening to let in air was shoulder high; the four vertical bars half an inch square, set an inch and a half apart, were too close to permit him to insert his hands between them, but this fact did not discourage the ape-man.

—By Ahern

OUT OUR WAY

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His steel fingers grasped one of the bars. With his left hand, he clung to another and braced one knee against the door. Slowly the bar bent as he wrenched it from its sockets. Soon another bar was tom away. His arm groped for the bar that held him prisoner.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

At the fullest extent to which he could l.ach his fingertips downward against the door, he just touched the top of the bar ... a timber about three inches in thickness. It was tantalizing! To have freedom almost within his grasp and yet to be denied. It was maddening!

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—By Williams

—By Blossei?

—By Crane

—By Hamlin;

—By Martin