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Show Too Much Proof By JAMES FREEMAN (Associated Newspapers WNU Service.) OFFICER MIKE STROM had left his beat and was on his way home when the clamor of the City National bank's burglar alarm brought him up short. It was early in the morning and the streets were almost deserted. Mike glanced toward the police alarm box a half block away and decided it was too far. He began running toward the bank, reaching for the service gun in its holster. He was within a hundred yards of the bank when the machine gun began be-gan to rattle. Policeman Strom crumpled up, clutching his abdomen. He gasped and rolled back to the sidewalk and suddenly lay still, a look of mortal mor-tal agony on his face. The town was suddenly still. No one seemed able to grasp exactly what was happening. The machine gun stopped its staccato patter and the bonging burglar alarm continued contin-ued to shrill in the bright, still air. Across the way a man shouted incoherently. in-coherently. The shout was taken up by others and added to by the hysterical scream of a woman. Someone darted into a nearby store and asked the frightened clerk to lend him a gun. The clerk stared bewilderingly and dumbly shook his head. Outside, across the street, two men had stepped through the bank door and were descending the steps. One of them held a sub-machine gun under his arm. The other carried a heavy canvas bag. They moved quick and alert toward the black sedan which waited at the curb, with engine idling and a driver at the wheel. Spectators shook off the spell that had held them in its grim clutches as the sedan roared down the street. They shouted and gestured and began be-gan to mil about. Some distance away the black sedan had slowed for a corner, and as it turned into a deserted side street, a policeman appeared ap-peared on the curb. A series of orange lances streamed from the sedan's interior. The policeman stumbled back against the brick wall of a building, slid slowly to the sidewalk with blood staining his jacket. . . . During the week that followed the bank robbery and double murder mur-der at Colton, at least thirty suspects sus-pects were taken into custody, ques- Hayes nodded. "Hello, Ernie. Get ready to leave. You and Victor are wanted for the Colton job." "Don't talk foolishness, Hayes. Do you think we'd be fools enough to hang around here If we pulled that one?" "I think you're smart enough to roost right under our noses," Hayes replied sharply. "Boys, search the room." The two officers went about the business of searching. Nerdon and Ernie Redmond reclined easily, smoked cigarettes and smiled. Their airs of assurance, Hayes knew, were designed to be upsetting, which indeed in-deed they were, though not for a single instant did he permit this fact to show in expression or word. The search revealed, besides personal per-sonal belongings, about $2,000 in cash. No weapons were uncovered, no evidence that would connect the youths with the Colton affair other than the money. But the money, Hayes hoped, would be enough. He compared the serial numbers on the bills with those he had jolted down on a notebook. "Looks bad, boys," he said. "These bills are some of those taken from the Colton bank." Nerdon and Redmond arched their brows in polite surprise. "Are they?" said Redmond. "Well, that's not anything to be alarmed at. We won that money at the horse races at Morton Park. The robbers must have been up there betting." "Yes," Hayes agreed, "they must have. You boys, I suppose, attended attend-ed the races on the day of the holdup?" hold-up?" "As a matter of fact, we did," said Ernie. "Any luck?" "Splendid. We cleaned up $500 each." Hayes' heart was thumping against his ribs. But outwardly his face was serene and calm. "I suppose you can prove you were at the races?" Nerdon and Redmond exchanged confident glances and smiled. "Yes, Inspector," said Redmond, "we can. Sorry to disappoint you like this, but I guess you're barking up the wrong tree." The youth reached into his vest pocket and produced a pair of pari-mutuel tickets, which he handed hand-ed over to the officer. "Look those over. They're dated June 16, which was the day of the holdup. And if you're interested you might consult the race track officials. They'll tell you that those horses paid $500 each. We were lucky that day. Inspector." In-spector." Inspector Hayes sighed deeply and with relief. He had been afraid that all his careful work of the past three weeks was going to prove fruitless. Even in that moment he pictured the newspaper headlines that would restore the public's faith in the police po-lice department. He stood up, nodding to the officers. of-ficers. "Drape some handcuffs on 'em, boys. We'll talk this over again down at headquarters." And when Nerdon and Redmond suddenly sudden-ly sat erect and looked indignant, he smiled, easily, confidently. "It's all right boys. No need to get excited. I have all the evidence I need. You see," he glanced down at the pari-mutuel pari-mutuel tickets, "these winning tickets tick-ets tell the story. I should think you boys would know with all' your experience, ex-perience, that pari-mutuel tickets have to be tiirned in at the track, if they're winners, in order to collect on 'em. If you boys won $500 each on the day of the holdup and collected collect-ed on it, you wouldn't have the tickets tick-ets to show." Policeman Strom crumpled up, gasped and rolled back to the sidewalk side-walk and suddenly lay still. tioned, placed in lineups and eventually even-tually set free. Police were harshly criticized by an enraged public. Editorial writers were frank in their comment. Bank officials all over the country held board meetings and voted to install all sorts of new and modern burglar equipment For nearly another week the Colton Col-ton event held a prominent position on the front page of the newspapers. Then, because there were no new angles on which to comment, the story slipped to the inside pages, finally vanished entirely. Three weeks and two days after the holdup, Inspector Frank Hayes and his chief aide, Detective Ray Wilson, entered a Lancaster hotel and approached a young man seated in a corner of the lobby. The young man was reading a newspaper, and when Hayes touched him on the arm he looked up casually'and smiled. "Hello, Nerdon," said Hayes easily. eas-ily. "Know me? Hayes from police headquarters. You're under arrest." ar-rest." "What for?" The young man laid aside his newspaper and slowly got to his feet. The smile was still on his lips. Hayes smiled, too, because he knew this Victor Nerdon from past experience. "Shall we go up to your room and talk, or do you want to answer my questions here?" The young man nodded. "Let's go up. You haven't anything on me, Hayes. I'd rather these folks didn't get the idea I was under suspicion." There was an air of total confidence con-fidence about Victor Nerdon as he walked loward the elevator. His smile increased a little when two policemen joined them before they were whi: ked abore. Nerdon unlocked the bedroom door and one of the officers went in first. There was a man sitting near a window reading. He looked up curiousl when they entered, exchanged ex-changed luestioning glances with Jvc j don. |