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Show THE FIREBUG CORNER By Daniel Shifren DR. Hawes made whipping motions mo-tions his staff interpreted as, "Grab the extension, quick!" Sadie Pruitt lifted a phone; then Hewlitt Stevenson, Dr. Hawes' ex- pert in things lin- 3 -Minute guTistic; , Ti . . Lieutenant Lm- rlCtlOn strum was saying, ' ' "Doc, against my better judgment, the commissioner and the rest of the boys thought you ought to be called in on this case." Dr. Hawes had been a psychiatrist until one of his cases caused him to see the application of psychology to criminal detection. "Lieutenant, don't tell me only the commissioner. How about the business men whose properties are endangered by this firebug? The Lieutenant's voice crackled. "The business men too!" Doc suppressed a laugh. "The case interests me. But first, your department lets the story out to the papers that Doc Hawes has been called in." The howl was just what Hawes expected. "Listen, Lieutenant) Lieuten-ant) I like publicity, as you may have heard, but that doesn't matter here. I know these arsonists. Play ball or I can't be much help." Hawes observed the pleasant reactions re-actions in his staff, -vaiting for the silence to break. "Okay, Doc. I hope you know what you're doing." Stevenson had the tape recorder ready; the front-page story in the Chronicle was spread out. The waiting was getting to be monotonous. Doc eyed the phone morosely. But this time it pealed. The stranger said, "Dr. Hawes, I've been an admirer of 'I've come about your ad in the Chronicle," the little man said. yours . . ." Doo knew who it was immediately. "Do you have any ideas on nabbing the culprit?" To keep the man talking, Doc Hawes asked who was calling and waved for Sadie to notify the Lieutenant Lieu-tenant to trace the call, and for Stevenson to start the recorder. "My name is Harris," said the stranger. "Just an admirer, you see" "Thanks for your interest, Mr. Harris. No, I don't have much of an idea. This arsonist is a very clever man and is going to be hard to catch." Hawes heard a delighted laugh. He fed the conversation until Stevenson Ste-venson signaled "enough." STEVENSON played the tape back. "Definitely! That's Lancashire, Lan-cashire, glossed over some by residence in America. Afraid that's all I have on this one, Doc." "You mean Lancashire, England?" Eng-land?" Stevenson nodded. Sadie Pruitt said the call had fizzled. It had come from a drug store. "Is the Lieutenant still on? . . . Lieutenant? Can you manage to look like a lawyer for a while tomorrow? Got a slim lead. I'm going to try something in the Chronicle." In the quiet office Lieutenant Linstrum poured over a sheaf of stage-prop briefs, uncomfortable in his role. He said, "Doc, this setup looks screwy. How you get any results playing these games I'll never know." A whispered "Shhhhh!" came from behind the slightly open Inner door. "There's someone coming." A little, mild-mannered man entered. en-tered. "Solicitor Linstrum?" "Yes?" "I've come about your ad in the Chronicle. I lived most of my life in Lancashire." Doc Hawes stepped into the office. of-fice. "Oh, it's our 'Mr. Harris'. How are you, sir?" The man was startled, ran. "Grab him, Lieutenant. That's our firebug." At police headquarters, the Lieutenant Lieu-tenant asked, "Mind telling me now, Doc, how you baited this fish?" "Simple," said the Doc, smiling. "Few men can resist the chance at some easy money. Here's the ad 1 ran in the Chronicle." The little rectangle read: "Attorney, "At-torney, settling large estate, requires re-quires point of information that can be supplied only by a former resident resi-dent of Lancashire, England. Most liberal reward." "How liberal would you say, Lieutenant?" Lieu-tenant?" "About twenty years." |