Killer of Wife and Atom Wizard To Face Chair in January

Paul Cordell, 29, was today doomed by Criminal Court Justice Edwin
P. Reed to death by electrocution the morning of January 11, for
the murders of his wife, Juanita, 29, and her employer,
world-famous nuclear scientist Gregory Gilmore.

A jury last week found Cordell guilty of the brutal slayings
despite his testimony that it was a mysterious blonde woman,
floating in a "ball of blue fire," who had blasted the victims with
a "ray gun" on that October afternoon.

Ignoring the "girl from Mars" angle, alienists for the prosecution
pronounced the handsome defendant sane, and his attorneys were
powerless to offset the damage.

The final blow to Cordell's hopes for acquittal, however, was
administered by the State's key witness, Alma Dakin, Gilmore's
former secretary. For more than three hours she underwent one of
the most grilling cross-examinations in local courtroom....

Kirk shoved the paper aside, "What could he expect when he wouldn't even
listen to his own lawyers? They'll appeal--they have to--but it'll be a
waste of time."

He leaned back in the creaking swivel chair and began to unwrap the
cellophane from a cigar. "In a way," he said thoughtfully, "I hate to
see that kid end up in the fireless cooker. In this business you get so
you can recognize an act when you see one, and I'd swear Cordell wasn't
lying about that blonde and her blue fire. At least he thought he
wasn't."

Chenowich yawned. "I say he was nuts then and he's nuts now. What do
them bug doctors know? I never seen one yet could count his own
fingers."

The telephone on Martin Kirk's desk rang while he was lighting his
cigar. He tossed the match on the floor to join a dozen others, and
picked up the receiver. "Homicide; Lieutenant Kirk speaking."

It was the patrolman in the outer office. "Woman out here wants to see
you, Lieutenant. Asked for you personally."

"What about?"

"She won't say. All I get is it's important and she talks to you or
nobody."

"What's her name?"

"No, sir. Not even that. Want me to get rid of her?"

Kirk eyed the mound of paper work on his desk and sighed. "Probably a
taxpayer. All right; send her back here."

A moment later the patrolman loomed up outside the cubbyhole door, the
woman in tow. Lieutenant Kirk remained seated, nodded briskly toward the
empty chair alongside his d