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Murder Street

by Lester Dent

Beneath the asphalt of Murder Street were three men. Automobiles patted down their tombstones, and other men walked unknowingly over their dead bodies. It was ironic for those murdered men to be buried there, for they were the contractors who paved that very street. And it was strange for Detective Wes Kaine, the man of a thousand tricks, to receive instructions to dig on that night-shadowed, deserted street.

Chapter One
The Death Rip

THE stranger in the gray coat had followed Agency Detective Wes Kaine from the instant he left his office. The fellow's manner was furtive, sinister. Now he stepped up and asked an apparently harmless question.

"Got a match, brother?"

Kaine knew the answer to that one. You put your hands in your pockets. Then you got your hair parted with a blackjack. Or a gun snout gouged into your stomach.

"Sure, I've got a match," said Kaine.

He had. It was ready in his hand. He extended it.

Kaine was a small man-too small to make the New York police force, as he well knew, for he'd tried it once, and the examining board had ruled there wasn't enough of him. He had the freckled face of a kid, and a kid's big grin.

But for all his half-pint size, freckles and grin, quite a few alleged hard actors in the big town had taken to crossing the street when they saw little Kaine coming.

Price: $1.95

Format: Electronic PDF File
21 Pages
First Published: 1933

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