The Girl Who Knew Too Much – Randolph Barr (1941)

The editor apologizes in advance for the story — not a good sign.

The true author is unknown; Randolph Barr is apparently the Alan Smithee of the pulp world.  The supposed shame is that the story appeared in a “Spicy” publication [1]  .  We are warned that “we meet our heroine with her dress ripped down to her waist.”  It is suggested the reader not get his hopes up as “this is what passed for titillation in 1941.”  I don’t know what sorority house you live next to, Hef, but that sounds pretty OK to me.

Our hero is out walking at 2 AM “all the way to 2nd Avenue and 2nd Street.”  I guess he is on his way to Rue 2 to catch the 2 2 Train.  A girl runs up, as advertised, sporting a black dress ripped to the waist.  “Her breasts were heaving from running” which is also what I do from running.  The excitement continues as the man chasing her is gunned down, and another man drags his body away.  Our nameless hero gives me a move to try as he gets the girl in a cab, goes back to his place, only then asking if she would like to come up for a drink.

She tells us her name is Polly and she is the gal of Boss Russo.  The dead man, Dick Tobin, was also hot for her and died from that fever.  Her rescuer is a reporter, but otherwise respectable.  He offers to go to Polly’s apartment to retrieve something a little less ripped-to-the-waisty for her to wear.  For his trouble, he is conked on the head.  Just as he wakes up to see Louis Russo has tied him up, Polly comes looking for him.  Russo leaves with her, delegating him to his flunkies to deal with.

The reporter escapes and goes to Russo’s HQ to save Polly.  He manages to go from merely being tied up before, to now being shot and tied up.  Nice work, Scoop!  The cops save his bacon by breaking down the door and shooting Russo.  Polly, who has somehow found a reason to be topless again, admits that she has been working — oh the irony — undercover to bust Russo.

The editor was right.  It is a breezy little piffle, that is far less interested in telling a story than in getting Polly half-naked a couple of times.  In other words, A+.

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