paper when their customers arrived, Roberto scanning the main headlines while Alberto studied the box-score of yesterday’s game between the Seacoast City Superbas and the Jenkintown Yellow Sox.
The front page story, copied from a wire service, told of the mysteriousdisappearance in California of sultry movie vamp Isabella del Sueño. The reporter hinted slyly that Señorita del Sueño was sharing a tryst with Roland Ramirez, her co-star in the recent romantic western,
Ride, Vaquero
. The sports section’s ace scrivener, one Billy Trout, mourned at length over the Superbas’ fourth loss in their past six games, 5 to 3 in eleven innings.
The glorious music thathad filled the barbershop was suddenly was cut off, replaced by the breathless voice of an announcer.
This is Joseph van Horn in the WSCR newsroom. We interrupt this broadcast to bring you news of a daring robbery. Thieves have made off with the newest and most precious exhibit at the Municipal Museum of Art and History. As has been previously reported, the precious gems and golden scepter recentlydiscovered by the Hopkinson Expedition and believedto be the legendary crown jewels of the Lost Continent of Lemuria, were to go on display to the public at a grand ceremony scheduled for six o’clock this evening
.
As the display was being set up a mysterious gas was released in the museum, which was closed in preparation for the gala event. Curators, guards and workers alike were rendered unconscious.When they recovered, the jewels were missing
.
Police have no clues as to the identity or location of the criminals involved, but the public is urged to be on the lookout for suspicious characters
.
The Emerson switched back to the opera.
The customer in one barber chair removed the cold towel from his freshly shaven face. “Well, waddaya think of that?” he inquired.
The customer in the otherchair removed his towel as well. “It’s a cryin’ shame, a cryin’ shame. A honest citizen can’t do nothin’ nowadays without runnin’ into criminals and crooks, can he?”
The two men burst into raucous laughter.
“Hey, barber,” one of them growled, “you and your partner there, you seen us here, right? Lookit the clock, you better notice what time it is.”
Alberto Morelli blinked. “But—why?”
“Neveryou mind why,” the customer growled. “Just remember. You get me? We’re Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown. We been here for the past hour.”
He climbed out of the chair. “Here,” he snarled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills held in place by a gleaming money clip. “This should help you remember us!”
He peeled a large-denomination bill off the roll and handed it to Alberto.
“And you,too!” The customer peeled a second bill of the same denomination from the roll and handed it to Roberto.
“Now, where’s that shoe-shine boy?” He reached into his pocket and extracted a silver dollar. A deep crease appeared between his eyes. “Where’d he go?”
But Clarence Willis was nowhere to be seen. The only clue to his whereabouts was a tattered comic book left open on his shoeshine stool,and the door of the closet where he stored his push-broom, his shoeshine kit, and the instruments and tools of his humble profession when not in use. The door stood slightly ajar.
Alberto Morelli took the few steps required to reach that door and carefully closed it.
“That Clarence, he just disappears sometimes,” Alberto explained. “He’s not too bright, you know. He’s a good boy, we try andtake care of him, but sometimes he just disappears.”
At this very moment, forty-two stories above ground in the topmost suite of the Central Railroad Tower, a shadowy figure was moving among an array of instruments and tools of a very different sort. Electrical devices hummed and cast an orange radiance that gave the room an eerie glow, for opaque steel shutters were drawn across the windows.By coincidence the sounds of WSCR gave warmth and
The front page story, copied from a wire service, told of the mysteriousdisappearance in California of sultry movie vamp Isabella del Sueño. The reporter hinted slyly that Señorita del Sueño was sharing a tryst with Roland Ramirez, her co-star in the recent romantic western,
Ride, Vaquero
. The sports section’s ace scrivener, one Billy Trout, mourned at length over the Superbas’ fourth loss in their past six games, 5 to 3 in eleven innings.
The glorious music thathad filled the barbershop was suddenly was cut off, replaced by the breathless voice of an announcer.
This is Joseph van Horn in the WSCR newsroom. We interrupt this broadcast to bring you news of a daring robbery. Thieves have made off with the newest and most precious exhibit at the Municipal Museum of Art and History. As has been previously reported, the precious gems and golden scepter recentlydiscovered by the Hopkinson Expedition and believedto be the legendary crown jewels of the Lost Continent of Lemuria, were to go on display to the public at a grand ceremony scheduled for six o’clock this evening
.
As the display was being set up a mysterious gas was released in the museum, which was closed in preparation for the gala event. Curators, guards and workers alike were rendered unconscious.When they recovered, the jewels were missing
.
Police have no clues as to the identity or location of the criminals involved, but the public is urged to be on the lookout for suspicious characters
.
The Emerson switched back to the opera.
The customer in one barber chair removed the cold towel from his freshly shaven face. “Well, waddaya think of that?” he inquired.
The customer in the otherchair removed his towel as well. “It’s a cryin’ shame, a cryin’ shame. A honest citizen can’t do nothin’ nowadays without runnin’ into criminals and crooks, can he?”
The two men burst into raucous laughter.
“Hey, barber,” one of them growled, “you and your partner there, you seen us here, right? Lookit the clock, you better notice what time it is.”
Alberto Morelli blinked. “But—why?”
“Neveryou mind why,” the customer growled. “Just remember. You get me? We’re Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown. We been here for the past hour.”
He climbed out of the chair. “Here,” he snarled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills held in place by a gleaming money clip. “This should help you remember us!”
He peeled a large-denomination bill off the roll and handed it to Alberto.
“And you,too!” The customer peeled a second bill of the same denomination from the roll and handed it to Roberto.
“Now, where’s that shoe-shine boy?” He reached into his pocket and extracted a silver dollar. A deep crease appeared between his eyes. “Where’d he go?”
But Clarence Willis was nowhere to be seen. The only clue to his whereabouts was a tattered comic book left open on his shoeshine stool,and the door of the closet where he stored his push-broom, his shoeshine kit, and the instruments and tools of his humble profession when not in use. The door stood slightly ajar.
Alberto Morelli took the few steps required to reach that door and carefully closed it.
“That Clarence, he just disappears sometimes,” Alberto explained. “He’s not too bright, you know. He’s a good boy, we try andtake care of him, but sometimes he just disappears.”
At this very moment, forty-two stories above ground in the topmost suite of the Central Railroad Tower, a shadowy figure was moving among an array of instruments and tools of a very different sort. Electrical devices hummed and cast an orange radiance that gave the room an eerie glow, for opaque steel shutters were drawn across the windows.By coincidence the sounds of WSCR gave warmth and
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