MURDER IN TWO-TWO TIME

“There,” Ed Burke patted the sand with a spade, “is the finish of a perfect job. Neat, too, wasn’t it, honey? That rat Dyer had it coming.”

“Yeah, a nice clean job, Ed,” Clara Miller agreed. “But don’t ever forget that I saw you drop him.”

* * * *

Sergeant Reynolds carefully lifted the gun from the hole, shook the sand from it, hurried to headquarters, and placed it on Captain Wiley’s desk.

Wiley swung round; the Professor lit a cigar.

“It’s the chair for Burke if this gun checks with the bullets from Dyer’s body,” said the captain.

“It will,” Clara assured him.

“For you too, Clara, if you were with him.”

“I wasn’t! He told me he did the job and where he buried the rod on Braxler’s Beach.”

“But why are you turning in Burke now—four months after the killing?”

“Because,” blazed the girl, “the louse has been two-timing me for months! I just found it out. That’s why I told you where the gun was. Nobody’s double-timin’ Clara!”

Fordney reached over, shook a few grains of sand from the glistening barrel of the wicked-looking .38 caliber revolver and broke it. There were four cartridges in the chamber. Dyer was shot but once.

“Have you an alibi for Dyer’s murder?” inquired the Professor.

“Sure. I was with Jimmy O’Leary.”

“Did Burke give you a map, or merely tell you where he buried the gun?”

“He just told.”

“Quite. Better lock her up, Captain,” Fordney suggested. “Don’t know her game yet, but obviously she is lying.”

How did the Professor know Clara was lying? Turn page for solution.