Black Mask Detective (Vol. 35, No. 2 — November, 1950)

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Goons were busting out all over, making Mr. Moon regret — that he’d cracked a safe, kissed a blonde, and toppled a gambling czar’s throne!

I was feeling pretty satisfied with myself. It isn’t every day that a private detective gets to nip a crooked politician’s career in the bud by exposing his crookedness. Nor every day that he makes a hundred dollars for three hours work.

But mostly I was feeling satisfied because my name wouldn’t enter into it. My fat client, Raymond Margrove, would take all the credit — and also any of the gangland vengeance that was handed out. Normally in a case as big as the expose of Gerald Ketterer, I would have welcomed newspaper publicity, for it is equivalent to free advertising. But when the exposed crook heads a city-wide gambling syndicate reinforced by numerous goons who carry guns, I would just as soon remain incognito. Free advertising won’t plug up a hole in your head when a mugg goes to work on you.

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