Free One Endless Hour by Dan J. Marlowe

Startled exclamations greeted me as I darted inside and knelt down, out of line with the door. The newspaper sputtered, almost went out, then flared brightly. I recognized Blaze Franklin in a turtleneck sweater and slacks. Alongside him stood a trooper in uniform. Both were rigid in grotesque attitudes of surprise.
        "Freeze!" I demanded, leveling the shotgun halfway between them. Moody reacted first-and fast. His right hand dipped toward the gun on his hip. I shifted my aim slightly and touched off the forward trigger. In the confined space the shotgun's roar shook the cabin. Moody was still upright while half his head and all his brains were plastered on the wall behind him. Then he spun in a half turn and fell forward on what was left of his face.
        "Hold it!" I ordered Franklin, swinging the sawed-off toward him. I wanted him alive, but his gun was already halfway out of his shoulder holster. There was no time for further conversation. I squeezed the second trigger and gut-shot him. He went backward in a stutter step until he smashed into the stove, rebounded, doubled up, and hit the deck. The blast had almost cut him in two, but he was still alive. He crawled in circles on the floor like a huge wingless beetle.
        He was still alive, but the first look was indication enough he was never going to tell me where the money was. I crossed the cabin and put a foot on him to stop the crawling. I went through his clothes rapidly. I took his wallet, keys, and.38, wiped the blood off my hands on his trouser legs, then backed toward the door. The crawling started up again, but more slowly.
        Outside, I thought of putting a match to the cabin. It didn't seem necessary. If Moody didn't know why they were there, Franklin hadn't told anyone. It would be a long time before they were found, if ever. I still had one chance left at recovering the money and no time to waste.
        I walked rapidly from the cabin to the road.
        Dawn was painting the eastern sky flame-red when I reached the police cruiser. I stripped off the clothing that Spider Kern had provided, took Moody's uniform from its hanger in the back of the cruiser, and tried it on. It was too big, but that was much better than having it too small. I took reefs and tucks in it to make it look as presentable as I could. The trooper's hat was far too large. I padded its sweat band with the necktie that was also on the hanger. That helped considerably.
        There was less than half an hour until full sunrise. I wadded up the discarded clothing and placed it on the front seat beside me as I got under the wheel. I backed the cruiser out onto the road and headed away from town. It was the wrong direction for what I eventually had in mind, but first I had to get back to Rafe James's car.
        I parked the cruiser and scrambled through the brush to James's car. I started up the engine, backed out to the road to get traction and a short run, then rammed it straight ahead with the accelerator floored. Metal scraped and brush crashed. The front end reared up as the axle scaled a low stump. For a moment I thought that was it. Then the car slithered off the obstruction and lurched ahead again. The rear end bucked as the same stump caught the housing. That did it. The rear wheels whined as they spun without traction. I got out and made my way back to the road.
        I looked back toward the car from the roadway. I couldn't see anything. I threw the keys into the woods on the other side of the road. It would take the combination of an accident for someone to find it and a major effort on the part of the finder if that automobile were ever returned to civilization.
        I climbed into the cruiser again. There was a flashlight in the glove compartment, and by its light I read the address on Franklin's license. Three twenty-seven Riverside, Hudson, Florida. It was the same boarding house where he had lived when he and Lucille Grimes had been