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1001 Radio Crime Solvers
ZERO and THE NIGHT IS A WEAPON NIGHT BEAT W FRANK LOVEJOY
01:00:26
Frank Lovejoy plays a Chicago detective who is up to his neck in crime solving- great series from CBS radio in the 50's Check out all of our cop/crime/detective episode at both 1001 Radio Days and 1001 Radio Crime Solvers at our new website !
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You can reach great listeners like yourself with podcast advertising from Libsyn Ads. Choose from hundreds of top podcasts offering host endorsements or run a pre produced ad like this one across thousands of shows. To reach your target audience in their favorite podcasts with Libsyn Ads, go to Libsyn ads.com that's L I B S Y N ads.com today. Welcome back everyone to 1001 Radio Crime Solvers. This is your host, John Hagedorn at two episodes of Nightbeat starring Frank Lovejoy. Enjoy Night Beat. Hi, this is Randy Stone. I cover the Night Beat for the Chicago Stars. As any citizen of the city can tell you, Chicago isn't all gleam and flash, a red carpet and a swanky Loop hotel and room clerks with pointed collars. You'll be more likely to find your human interests packed away in the less publicized neighborhoods in the lives of quiet desperation. Far back of the Gold coast in the gin mill and the clothesline lives in the lives of poverty and violence. So that's where I usually head in search of the harder hitting yarns. To the slums, to the tenements and to the back alley. But not tonight. No sir, there are no slums tonight. Tonight I leave the tenements to the city council and the back alleys to the cats, the rotgut to the tramp lushes. Tonight I'd like to present the wildest, fightingest, toughest caricature of an oil king from the broad and healthy state of Texas. None Other than a gun toting bronco bust and rootin tootin shootin 10 gallon spurge saddle walking bank account known by the handle of Gusher J. But for all its western color, this is no stagecoach dreamer Instead, it began only three weeks ago. Far from the Texas prairies. In a barren visitor's room of Statesville State Prison in Joliet, Illinois. Mr. Stone? That's right, Mr. Barkley. Here, sit down, huh? Hey there. I never thought you'd get the letter. I got it. Never thought you'd answer it, even. I've sent so many letters, and they don't bother to answer most of them. I got it day before yesterday. I took the train down. I thought even if you answered the letter, you wouldn't come all the way down. It's no trouble, Mr. Barkley. You remember the trial? I remember reading something about it. He was killed in Chicago. That's all I could recall before I looked into it. Yeah. Killed in Chicago. Yeah. That's why they sent me here. Matter of jurisdiction, they said. I suppose you get lots of letters like mine. I suppose every Tom, Dick and Harry writes letters to lawyers and the governor and people like you telling them it was all a frame, huh? I suppose you get lots of letters like that, huh? Well, not too many. When I do, I investigate. Yeah. Well, I sure appreciate you coming down. Well, reason I wrote you. We get the Star down here, and I read it every night. I like what you have to say. I thought you'd at least like to hear the story, maybe write about it. I wrote to so many people. Maybe one, two come down. They promise, but they never come back. Mr. Barclay, I read your letter very carefully. I read the transcript of the trial, all the testimony, the depositions, the opinions. Two eyewitnesses, Mr. Barclay, they both testified they saw you shoot Mr. Furness. Paid off, Mr. Stone. Bribed into perjury. Thirty thousand dollars a year for life. Each of them. Thirty thousand dollars a year for life. Paid off by whom? The killer. The man who shot Finesse. James. Peter James. They call him Gusher Oil King. Yeah. Some national magazine. A couple of months ago, they did a big story on him. Paid off the witnesses. How do you know? He tried to pay me off. Said he'd pay me more for staying in prison than I could make on the outside. I told him, Look, Mr. James, I said, I got no family, no friends. What good would $30,000 do me in a prison cell if I'm here for 40 years? I'd be an old man. I said, Mr. James, then he laughed and he said I. I don't know why I offered it in the first place. He said it's silly, a waste of money. Two eyewitnesses and you're cooked. He knew I didn't have an alibi. You see? No proof, Mr. Stone. If I had proof, I wouldn't be in prison. Mr. Stone. Well, he denied all this in court. I. Well, I guess the jury believed him. Oh, he talks good. James does. Well, now, let's see the two witnesses. Julie Parkinson, his girlfriend. Yeah, Julie Parkinson. And Mrs. Gladys Davenport. Gladys Davenport's her name. Now, just investigate, Mr. Stone. Just do a routine investigation, that's all. You tell me how Mrs. Gladys Davenport got such a big house, such a beautiful home in Winnetka. And before the trial, she was living in a South side hotel. What do you say to that, huh? It's worth looking into. Her husband wasn't rich before he died. A small time contractor left her nothing. I know the woman. I've read in the paper. She's invited James for a big party next week. Sure. She invites him to a big party, he pays for it. $30,000 a year for life. I'll do my best, Mr. Barkley. Yeah, you'll look into that, huh? You'll see what I mean. It'll take a little time, but it's worth looking into, Mr. Stone. And let me remind you about this type of man. James once said to me, point blank, he said, barclay, I want to tell you. He said, with enough money, a man can get away with murder. To my face, he said that to me. Well, he's wrong, Mr. Stone, because you just can't pay off everybody. I'll be back in a few days, Mr. Barclay. I'll let you know what I found out. Thank you, Mr. Stone. Thank you very much indeed. So I left the sober setting of Statesville Prison, and a few days later I wangled a press invitation to the big, rich, lavish Winnetka party given by the big, rich, lavish Winnetka widow for Peter Henry Gusher James. I decided to palm myself off as the, you should excuse the expression, society reporter of the Chicago Star. I pulled into the drive, flashed my press card at the doorman and bounced in. The colonial mansion was alive with brilliant life, tuxedoed social lions and emaciated women in padded gowns. I grabbed myself a martini from a loaded tray and I ambled toward a six foot six apparition in boots, white cowboy hat and, sir, help me, a calfskin shirt. I wasn't four feet away from him when he Drew his six shooter, waved it in the air. I flattened against the wall. Oh. Whoa. Oh, there. It's all right, ladies. Just block Mike. All right, now, ladies and gentlemen. Ladies and gentlemen, quiet, please. It is at present my great privilege to propose a toast. Here's to the loveliest w lady in the greater metropolitan area. To our hostess, Ms. Gladys Davenport, to whom we owe this magnificent and wonderful evening of fun, joy, merriment and pleasure. So drink up, everybody. That's what I like to hear. People acting simultaneous in the spirit. Say, brother. Me? Yeah, yeah, you. I didn't see you enter into the fracas. You just stand there and gawk. What are you gawking at? Well, I like to see these people all acting simultaneously in the spirit of fellowship. Well, grab a glass and start guzzling, brother. You're falling behind the tip of the crowd. Thank you. Maybe I will. I didn't catch your name, brother. Randy Stone. I'm with the Chicago Star. What's that? Newspaper? Well, well, yeah. Pleased to meet you, brother. How are you, Mr. James? Oh, now, that riles me. People calling me mister. Gusher's my name, and that's what I want people to call me. How are you? I'm pretty well. Are you above shaking hands? Not at all. Well, put her there. Wow, you don't grip, do you? I swear, you boys of the northern counties just don't know what a real handshake is. I know. Now, shaking hands with the Chicago fellas like handling dead mackerel. Yeah. No offense. No. Tell me, Gusher, what are your plans? Financially, maritally or humorously? All and any. You going to quote me? Not if you don't want me to. Oh, sure, sure. I want you to quote me, man. Don't want to be quoted. Shouldn't open a yap. You know, I never say anything that can't be printed on page one column. Oh, sure, sure, sure. You can quote me, brother. All right. Now, what was the question again? I just wondered. Oh, pardon me, pardon me. I'm falling behind the temper of the crowd. Hey there, butler, would you pour me one of them, too, please? That's a good boy. Sling me that question again, will you? Your plans. Oh, yeah. Ownership. Those are my plans. I like Chicago. Budding community. Might even buy it. Buy Chicago? Consolidate the interest. Too many people in diversified industry under capitalization. You know what I mean? It's financial, friend. You wouldn't understand. I mean, purchase some of the essential industries. Ah. Whether without a mortgage. Are you quiffing me, brother? Quiffing? Well, having a little Joke at my expense. Well, no offense. Intent. Well, I certainly hope not. You married? Yeah. Personal questions, brother. Don't overstep your bonds. I'm sorry. It happens that I'm engaged. A girl sings voice like a nightingale. Yeah, I'm in love, brother. You can quote me. Hey, would you like to hear her sing? All right. Julie. Julie, honey. We've got a request for you to sing, honey. Folks, everybody, quiet, please. Julie's going to sing. Ain't she gorgeous? Very pretty. Oh, that cow's pretty, brother. That girl's gorgeous. Very lovely. Now, don't run counter to me, brother. Red River Valley, honey. And she sings Red River Valley Red without any music or anything. Oh, honey, you don't need music. Just sing it. That's all. Now, come on. Quiet, everybody. Now, quiet down. Now, come on. From the valley they say you are going. There's my little bird. I will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile. Who says she's tone de but remember the Red River Valley. Julie Parkinson sang the song all the way through while the guests masked their faces with mechanical smiles. The applause was politely enthusiastic. Ms. Parkinson embarrassed, trembling, blushed prettily, bowed and left the open space at Surfer Stage. A gusher slapped the breath out of me by pounding my back and pluffed a chimney full of cigar smoke into my face. How's that, brother? Pluck at your heartstrings. Verily. Yeah. Busting with talent, that girl. Magnificent vocal organ. Right you are. Would you like to meet her? I'd be delighted. You'll write her up real nice in the newspaper tomorrow, huh? As space will allow. Well, you're sparking my anger, brother. Now, I'm sensitive. You just give me straight answers. Don't try being clever. I'm an ignorant man, you know. Don't you ruffle me, and I won't feel called upon to ruffle you. Well, if that isn't fair. Here she comes. Please tell me, how was I? How was I? Oh, divine, honey. Wonderful. This here's. Oh, I say, what was your name, anyhow? It always slips my mind. Stone. Randy Stone. Yeah, that's right. Randy Stone. Well, this is Julie. How do you do? How was I? Well, answer the lady. How was she? Poignant. Yeah, there's a beautiful word, poignant. You are undoubtedly the most poignant singer I ever heard. The doctor brought the radio station in Chicago yesterday day just so I could sing on it. Yeah? It's about time she had an outlet. Which station is that? Oh, w. Something. I don't. Hey, butler. Awful pride on its way. He's a stuffy old buzzard Slow on the poor Wouldn't last a fortnight in my bailwink oh, excuse the interruption, But I promised Mr. Stone a copy of the guest list for his paper. Oh, thank you. We'll be right back. It'll just take a minute, Gusher. Look after him, Julie. Oh, she'll look after me all right. Won't you, honey? I'll always look after you, Gusher. Pardon me. May we get through here, please? Excuse me. Please sit down, Mr. Stone. Thank you. I left the list on the desk. Let's see. Somewhere. Oh, here we are. You know, I don't remember from one minute to the next where I keep things. So this is a complete guest list. Oh, swell. Thanks a lot. Oh, just a minute, miss. Yes? Jim Barkley. You visited him in prison a few days ago. How did you know? Well, Gusher may seem like a big blustering fool, but he's a good deal smarter than he looks. You've been followed ever since you came back from Juliet. He knows why you're here. Should I be surprised? You better go, Mr. Stone. There isn't a chance in the world of you accomplishing anything. Not a chance in the world? That's a bit of an admission, isn't it, Mrs. Davenport? Oh, no, not at all. Well, as long as things are in the open between us, Mrs. Davenport, I might as well give you my opinion. There's a man rotting in prison who doesn't belong there. He's a murderer, Mr. Stone, convicted by law. I'm a nosy man, Mrs. Davenport. I asked myself, who would pay you $15,000 for a 10 acre piece of desert in eastern Arizona? Who? But someone with a long streak of generosity. I sold that land to go. I checked on that, Mrs. Davenport. You never had one handful of soil assayed for mineral content. Now, if you're interested in having these and other facts printed in tomorrow's paper along with this impressive guest list, just give me the word print at all, Mr. Stone. Every word of it. Don't, miss. Back print. Every single word. My Gosha, do you walk through doors? I can be a quiet man when I want to be. There hasn't been a deal made between myself and any corporation I put my name to. And Ms. Davenport here, that isn't legitimate right down the line. Well, legitimate, but a trifle peculiar d for a smart businessman. You've been overpaying Mrs. Davenport here for the property her husband left her by thousands of dollars. Gladys, I think this young man needs a lesson in practical Journalism. Why don't you go out there and entertain your guests, huh? I've got some business with Mr. Stone here. And now to all our listeners from the Veterans Administration, an important message about the new GI Bill. After you become veterans, many of you may want to study at school or college under the training provisions of the new GI Bill. Your goal may be purely educational, such as getting a degree, or professional, such as becoming a lawyer or vocational, like preparing to be a machinist or a plumber. Choosing the goal you intend to seek is within certain limits, strictly up to you. You may select your own field of study. And if it's willing to take you, you may pick your own school. Now, courses that you cannot take under the new GI Bill are those commonly considered as avocational or recreational in nature. That is, unless you can prove beforehand to the Veterans Administration that such a course will be useful in connection with your present or future occupation. Not approved under any condition are courses like dancing, bartending and personality development. Tuck these facts away in your mind for that day when you become a veteran. And now back to Nightbeak and Randy Stone. If Gusha James was really guilty of murder, I was on the lead of one of the nicest payoffs in recent history. The story I dug up threw a few rays of light on a heretofore rumored story of a killing with two heavily banked eyewitnesses and a guy named Barclay who was rotting in prison for a killing he said he didn't commit. Now that Gusher knew I was not just bluffing my way around his past life, I was in for one of two things, a threat or a deal. Knowing Gush's philosophy that if you have enough money, you can commit murder with impunity, I was prepared for the best bribe in the business. Tell me, Mr. Stone, how much do you make a week? Well, that's my business. Well, you seem to be so interested in Gladys Davenport's income, I thought I'd express an interest in yours. Then you can find out about mine the way I did about hers. Dig for it. Well, there's no need to get nasty about it. I swear. You got real gold, brother. Come to the point. Tell me, how would you like to say up a little newspaper of your own someday? That appeal to you? What do you think I got? A newspaper in a middle sized Texas community. But you know, I never have been completely satisfied with personnel. You know, a small town, thinking, indecisive, no imagination. Needs a man to take over. You know, man with ideas and ideals, man with Experience man like yourself. Editor in chief. Editor in chief. A percentage deal. 25% over and above salary. Stock transfer, contract for seven years. As long as you say no, sir. Now listen, brother. Look, I hate editing. Sit behind a desk shuffling through news reports, office works. I like to get out and around, see people. I couldn't stand the responsibility, brother. Okay, right there. You're asking for it. Well, I might remind you, Gusher, you said that I could quote every word. I'm just liable to do that. Sure, sure. You just go right ahead. You put the whole thing down. Once you do, you won't be able to find a job on any newspaper in the country. Gusher's lesson in practical journalism wasn't too far frightening. I've heard the so called men of influence spout before. For three minutes I was in shirt sleeves wrestling with part one of what I planned as a hefty series on Gusher King James. By midnight, the sarcasm was flowing thick and fast around an impressive number of names, places, figures and facts. Then came the surprise. At paragraph six, the city room door opened and I beheld the silhouette of a woman. She approached my desk self consciously, hands folded in front like a little girl about to ask teacher if she can go out and get a drink of water. It was Julie Parkinson. Mr. Stone. You bring a new offer from your sweetheart, honey? Or maybe he wants to buy me the Brooklyn Bridge if I spell his name right. I'd like to talk to you. Well, I'm working right now against the deadline. That's newspaper language. We're in a big hurry. You're going back to your party. Things are probably just about right for another song. I don't blame you, Mr. Stoner. I don't blame you a bit for talking that way to me. But I didn't come here to bribe you or threaten you. In fact, Usher doesn't even know where I am. All right, what's the pitch? He's really not a bad man, Mr. Stone. Really, he's not. Oh, I see. This is the sob act. Look, Ms. Parkinson skipped the whitewash. I know the routine. Underneath the grizzly old exterior beats a heart of pure platinum. You don't understand. Well, I guess I don't explain. I'm here to tell you the story, Mr. Stone. The real story, not the rumor, not the hearsay you're going to print. All right, go on, Mr. Stone. You were right. Barclay didn't kill Furness. Gusher didn't either. I did. I see. He was protecting me. I wanted to tell you first before you Printed that article. And just how did you do it? I shot him. I was in love with Finesse. He was going with another woman, see? Where'd you get the gun? One of Gusher's. I see. Finesse said he didn't love you and he shot him. That's right. Gusher found the body and you with the gun. And decided to frame Barkley. Gusher paid off Gladys to keep it quiet. That's it. That's it entirely. I'm sorry. What do you mean it doesn't check with the facts? It's a truth, Mr. Stone. Ms. Parkinson, in the five years that you and Gusher have been going together. How come you haven't gotten married? Gush is always too busy. But we will soon. Might find it a little bigamous out on the day you do. What do you mean? Oh, you know what I mean. Gush is already married. Happened June 4, 1946, Gulfport, Mississippi. What? That's a lie. Oh, now, don't tell me you didn't know. Dirty lie. That's a lie. Lie. I'm sorry. I guess it is a surprise. I have to say such terrible things. They were married in a. I don't want to know. I don't want to hear any more lies about it. Well, that's up to you. It's a lie, isn't it? No, Ms. Parkinson, it is not a lie. Married five years. Promises. I kept asking him, when are we going to get married? When are we going to get married? 5 years he's been promising me. Soon as he gets back from New York or Europe or the other places. I thought, he's got to marry him sometime. He loves me. I know he loves me. All the time he was married to somebody else. He was lying to me every minute of the time. Lying to me. Come on, Miss Parkinson. I'll buy you a cup of coffee. Who is she? His wife? Yeah. Her first name is Joanne. I don't know where she is right now. I didn't have time to check that for her. Now, come on, let's get that coffee. She was in love with me. I know he was. He wouldn't have killed for me. Well, that statement might send into the chair. Ms. Parkinson, you better watch yourself. No, I. I want to tell. Somebody and me were just sitting together talking in my room at the hotel. That's all Harry Furness was doing. Talking to me. And when Gusher came in, he was drunk. He said terrible things to me then, like he always does. He pulled out his gun like a little boy playing Cowboy. Go on. Then he started saying things to Harry that were awful. Harry got mad. Guess she got mad, too. He shot him. Then Gladys came in. You know that big play she's got, acting like she was always rich. Should have seen her when she walked in that door. You know what? She was a two bit Hooper in the chorus, that's all. And she just walked into $30,000 a year. So that's the story. Well, how did Barclay get blamed? Barkley? Poor Barclay. All these years in prison. Gusher took Vanessa's watch and a few other things, dressed in poor clothes and went into a flop house in a poor section of town and planted the stuff in a coat hanging near one of the cots. Gasher thought he was so clever. The coat belonged to Barclay. That's right. They caught him a few days later with a watch and the other things. Gusher was right. Poor old fool must have known something was fishy. But he couldn't let go of such a nice watch. Well, well, well. End of fiasco. Are you ready to tell all this to the police? I wasn't gonna say anything. Dutch has paid me so much all these years. I wasn't gonna say anything to anybody. I didn't come here to say anything. I. I came here to beg for him. Well, they'll get the information one way or the other now. Either from you or from me. Funny, I must have always hated him. Money can do anything, he always said. I guess it can. He bought everything but me. I took her to a downtown police station and heard her tell the story. Same story, minus the feeling. To Lt. Peterson and a prim stenographer with a notebook on her knee. Then I drove back to finish up my story. The sitting room was quiet. I ambled in, took off my coat and hung it up on the rack. Then I noticed that someone was sitting in my chair. The unmistakable western figure of Gusher James. Flash of light caught a silver spur and it flashed like a tin badge. He was reading my article about. About him. Say now, brother, you write a mighty fine piece of pros like your style. It's very grammatical. Punctuation good too. You had lots of schooling? Just enough. Get your boots off my desk. Yeah, I'm sorry, brother. I'm comfortable. I think I'll just leave them there, if you don't mind. You know, I've been thinking about you more and more. What a clean cut American boy you are and how much I admire you. I take my hat off to you and I was thinking what a fool I was to make A crazy offer like that. Editorial job. What's your present proposition? $30,000 a year for life. $30,000. That's an awful lot of money. Oh, it sure is. Think what you could do with $30,000 a year, couldn't you? Make it 50? You know, with inflation and. All right, all right, I see your point. Rob me. Go ahead. 50 it is. 50,000. You know, Gusher, I've. I've always had a book in mind. Always wanted to put some of these articles into a book. You know what I mean? Yeah. Well, $50,000, you can write a book, publish it, distribute it and buy all the copies yourself. There's a little place up in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. Oh, it's a beautiful spot. I could buy that place and a place in Florida, maybe Palm Beach. Palm beach, that's right. That's perfect. Yeah, I could buy a place like that and be rid of this rat race. Yeah, you sure could, brother. Sure could. You'll never get an offer like this again. I know it. Well, what do you say, Gusher? If I ever turned down $50,000 a year for life, I'd kick myself from here to Kansas City. That's why I wish you'd got here just a little earlier. Why? Where? Your girl, Julie, I. I told her what I dug up about your marriage. She rushed right over to the police with a story of how you killed a guy named Furness, paid off the eyewitnesses and planted the Furness watch on a flophouse bum named Barkley. Oh, it's a shame, Gusher. I always wanted to take a nice trip around the world. Hey, by any chance, is that offer still good? He didn't answer. For once, the great Gusher was silent. Now, me, I've never been one to pooh pooh. The importance of the buck. Without it, you don't eat, you don't sleep. You give up shorts, shirts, suits, and you don't romance that favorite girl. Not for long, anyhow. But still, in all, there are at least two items the First national bank would rate well beyond its present purchasing power. One is a woman on the war path and the other, a man who isn't. Free copy boy. Night Beat, starring Frank Lovejoy, is produced and directed by Warren Lewis. Tonight's transcribed story was written by David Lynn Ellis with music by Robert Armbruster. The part of Gusher James was played by William Conrad. Others featured were Betty Moran, Sydney Miller and Joe Gilbert. John Rickles speaking, you, Nightbeat. Thrilling Tension Tales with Frank Lovejoy featured as Randy Stone. Listen again next week for another thrilling adventure of Nightbeat. This is the United States Armed Forces Radio Service. Listeners, as we go into a new year, we all have a lot on our plates. There are backpacking trips across Europe to plan, personal best to crush in the gym and and capsule wardrobes to create good thing. Our sponsor, NerdWallet is here to take one thing off your plate. Finding the best financial products, introducing NerdWallet's 2025 Best of Awards. List your shortcut to the best credit cards, savings accounts and more. The nerds have done the work for you, researching and reviewing over 1100 financial products to bring you only the best of the best. Looking for a balanced transfer credit card with 0% APR? They've got a winner for that. Or a bank account with a top rate to hit your savings goals? They've got a winner for that too. Know you're getting the best products for you without doing all the research yourself. So let NerdWallet do the heavy lifting for your finances this year and head over to their 2025 Best of Awards at NerdWallet.com awards to find the best financial products today. Nerds listeners, as we go into a new year, we all have a lot on our plates. There are backpacking trips across Europe to plan, personal bests to crush in the gym and capsule wardrobes to create good thing. Our sponsor, NerdWallet is here to take one thing off your plate. Finding the best financial products, introducing NerdWallet's 2025 Best of Awards. List your shortcut to the best credit cards, savings accounts and more. The nerds have done the work for you, researching and reviewing over 1100 financial products to bring you only the best of the best. Looking for a balance transfer credit card with 0% APR? They've got a winner for that. Or a bank account with a top rate to hit your savings goals. They've got a winner for that too. Know you're getting the best products for you without doing all the research yourself. So let NerdWallet do the heavy lifting for your finances this year and head over to their 2025 Best of Awards at NerdWallet.com awards to find the best financial products today. Hi, this is Randy Stone. I cover the Night Beat for the Chicago Star. Stories start in many different ways, but tonight's story began when one man tried to destroy another with the strangest weapon of all. Darkness Night Beat, starring Frank Lovejoy as Randy Stone. When your job is to walk into the darkness and discover what makes a city tick, you pick up Some mighty strange friends. The winos drink of a muscatel paradise in cold dark doorways. The petty larceny boys with their fast deals. The painted little dames defying the world with their brassy laughter. The homeless, the hopeless in the city. Night is for the lost. And sometimes you feel a hunger to be with someone of the everyday world. Some nice, well adjusted soul who's got a reason for waking up tomorrow morning. I guess that's why I dropped in to see Bessie Chatfield tonight. Bessie's a little gray haired librarian who has charge of a small storefront library on Huron Street. No one around this time of night but Bessie. And a young fellow in a gray raincoat alone at a reading table. Mr. Stone. Well, we haven't seen you. Oh, in such a long time. Well, since forever. Amber, you haven't had the kind of high type literature that interests me. And when you finally do drop in, look what time you get here? 10:00. Right when I have to go over and start turning out the light. I. I timed it that way so I could get you behind those bookcases, away from that fellow with the reading desk. Well, I'm afraid your timing is about 35 years off, Mr. Stone. Oh, these light switches. Why do they always put them up so high? Aren't you going to tell that fellow it's time to go home? This is the way we tell them. We flick off the lights and then flick them on again. First off like this. No, don't turn up. No. What? Turn the lights on quick. Let me handle him. What's the idea of doing that, mister? That's supposed to be smarter. Oh, take it easy, fella. Take it easy. How did he pay it? Is that the deal? Huh? You tell George Brewster that the game doesn't amuse me anymore. You tell him if he keeps that up, I'll. I'll kill him. Oh, wait. I turned the lights out. It's closing time. What? Closing time. Oh, yes. Court. What's wrong with you, buddy? You sick or sick? Sick. Yes, that's me. Sick. Only mine's a childhood disease. Childhood? Childbirth. Now, what in the world was that? I don't know. Ever seen him before? He's come in a couple of times this week. Spent all his time reading some reference books at the table. Seemed to be such a nice, polite young man. Consider it kindly. Let's take a look at those books. Oh, my heavens. My. My heart is beating a mile in a. And did you see his face? It frightened me. He was even more scared than we Were what? These are books he was reading? Yes. The Mind in Limbo, Abnormal Psychology, Modern Psychiatry. Why would he want books like this? Maybe he was looking for somebody in these books. Who? Himself, Bessie. Probably himself. Bessie was pretty upset, so after she locked up for the night, I started walking toward the elevator station over on Lake Street. We walked a couple of blocks through the dark, empty streets when suddenly Bessie grabbed my arm. Mr. Stone, that man down the street looking in that store window, that's him. Yes. Same gray raincoat, same land. And look, Mr. Stone. What's that in his hand? That's a piece of paper breaking that store window. Yeah. You wait right here, honey. Be careful, Mr. Stone. Be careful. The fellow was reaching through the broken window glass for whatever it was that had struck his fancy. He heard me coming and turned toward me. The wan street light did something to his face. It seemed twisted and torn. Blood was running down his hand where the glass had cut it. Then I saw what he'd taken from the window. A gun. What's the idea, pal? He spun around and started running to the elevator station down the blocks and in the best tradition of the Rover boys, I see, stayed right on his tail. He turned back to see how I was doing. He stumbled over a trash can. I caught up with him, grabbing his arm. Leave me alone. Let go of me. He slashed the gun across my face and began running again. I stopped long enough to take a quick inventory of my teeth. Up above, I heard the elevator train coming into the station. The young PO had reached the station steps and was going up fast. Trying to make that claim, I reached for one of his legs. He turned and gave it to me, right in his stomach. I folded up and I just sat there. I listened to the train pull away with the fellow on it and remembered what Bessie had said about him being such a nice, polite young man. After a while, I began to feel somewhat human again. I notified the police what had happened and they set a squad car out. After they left, I remembered something. A name this nice, polite young man had been throwing around. George Brewster. I found a phone book in a cigar store. There were three George Brewsters. The first number didn't answer. I tried the second. Hello? I'd like to speak to George Brewster. He's not in right now. Is there any message? Who is this? I. Mrs. Is anything wrong? Well, if this is the right George Brewster, something is wrong. Is there any reason why a young fellow should want to kill your brother? Oh. Oh, that would be Morrison. Oh. I warned George Morrison. Huh? Where does he live? Our old apartment, 612 Hamlin Avenue. What makes you think he wants to kill George? Well, this character broke into a store tonight and stole a gun. I sort of think he had your brother in mind when he did it. Oh, no. What am I going to do? Well, lady, I know what I'm going to do. As fast as I hang up and get another nickel into this phone, I'm going to call the police. I feel so bad. It's not really Morrison's fault. For a man. Oh, no, no, he's. He's just a prince of a fellow. Goodbye, lady. I've got to make a. But then it turned out that I didn't have a nickel. And on the way to the counter for change, I started wondering why the sister of the man he was going to kill felt sorry for Morrison and why Betsy thought he was such a sweet character. And. Well, the night was young and 612Hamlin Avenue couldn't wait and I could call the cops later. 6:12 North Hamlin was a second floor flat on the north side. I got there a few minutes after 11 that night. All the windows were lit up. I rang the bell and I waited. I felt a little bead of sweat zigzagging down my face like I didn't have any place to go. Yes? It's you. No, no, let's not close the door just yet. In fact, let's push it open all the way. What do you want? My two front teeth and a few lids. Get out of here. Now look, pal, don't tempt me. I came against my better judgment to listen to what you've got to say. I leave now, the only place I'm going is the nearest police station. Police station? I guess maybe that would be the best. What? Otherwise, I don't know what's going to happen. I guess you better call the police, mister. What do you think you're doing? Calling my bluff. The phone's right behind you. Okay, buddy, you asked for it. Sure this is the way you want it? It's better this way. I'm at the end of my rope. I don't want to kill him. George Brewster? Yes, George Brewster. I know how it'll end if he doesn't stop. Stop what? Call the police. Mister, you'd be doing me a favor. Since when have I got to do you favors? Well, why aren't you calling? I'm an Eagle Scout in good standing. I. I haven't done my good deed for today. You can't help me. Mr. Stone is the name. What makes you so? Sure I can. Thanks for even wanting to after that bad time I gave you. Bad time? That's the understatement of the year. Well, I was panic stricken. It got me half crazy. Well, what have you got to lose if you tell me about it? No. Okay, wait, wait. I don't know. I'm like a drowning man grasping at straws. Look, maybe if you talk to Brewster, tell him what he's doing. I mean, maybe. Maybe he'd leave me alone. Well, you never can tell. But I'd have to know what I'm talking about. It's quite a story, mister. These lights. Look at them. Bright as the sun, Aren't they? Lamps overhead. Chandeliers. Look at them. I'd hate to see your light bills. Like some men need drugs. That's how I need these lights. Come again? My sanity depends on it. My very sanity. And these lights. It's a sickness. You've even got a name for it. Noctophobia. It's called fear of darkness. Fear of darkness? That's for kids. I. No, I take that back. I'm sorry. Don't be. I quite agree. Kids are neurotic women. But in a man of mine age, it's quite ridiculous. When the day starts drawing to a close. When the night starts crowding in. Have you been to a doctor? Sure I did. A doctor. Say, tell me I shouldn't feel too badly. Plenty of people with my trouble. A hangover from childhood. An illness like heart trouble is an illness. I'll take the heart trouble. Maybe haven't gone to the right kind of a doctor. Maybe psychiatry could help you. Nothing's going to help me. George Brewster's gonna see to that. What about this Brewster? He's trying to destroy me with the strangest weapon of all. The strangest weapon of all? Yes. His weapon is the. You are listening to Nightbeat, starring Frank Lovejoy. In a moment, we'll return to Nightbeat and Randy Stone. But first, we'd like to call your attention to another great NBC mystery adventure program. Every Sunday you want to hear the exciting new Christopher London series with screen actor Glenn Ford in the title role. Stories for Christopher London are furnished by Earl Stanley Gardner, one of the most famous mystery story writers in America. There is no doubt about the greatness of Gardner stories. And with the superb acting of Glenn Ford, Christopher London should be must listening for every mystery fan. Make a listening date now to hear the exciting adventures of Christopher London every Sunday over most of these same NBC stations. And now back to Frank Lovejoy as Randy Stone in Nightbeats. It was a weird feeling, standing in Morrison's brilliantly lighted parlor listening to him tell me about his terror of darkness. A sturdy, healthy looking man trapped by a childhood nightmare. I felt guilt listening to him, like I was eavesdropping into a dark cliff of his mind that was nobody's business but his own. And yet he had to tell me. Because he needed help. Because George Brewster was using Morrison's fear to destroy him. I was sent to Chicago by our company to replace Brewster Stone. Until he found out why I was here, he couldn't do enough for me. Even got me this apartment. Greater love has no man. Then he found out what the setup was. He changed fast enough. How did he find out about this theory of yours? Well, I'm telling you how. The other night, the two of us were working alone in the big vault down at the office, working on some old car. The overhead light blew out. It was so sudden, I. I couldn't help myself. I tried to keep calm, but looked like something tearing me to pieces inside. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't find. I had to run. So he found out. No. No. So he. I wasn't sure, but started him thinking. I see. Next afternoon he came over to my desk. He was jovial, friendly, like he'd been in the beginning, saying we'd been at each other's throats long enough. Inviting me to have dinner with him at night. Right from work, we went to his favorite spot on the north side, a place called the Catacombs. I began feeling uneasy the moment I entered. How do you like this place, Tom? That's okay. It's fine. It's been a favorite of mine for years. One spot in particular. The wine cellar. How do you feel about wine? I like it. All right, come along with me. I'm a wine man from way back. Say, George, I wanted to talk to you about that little outburst last night. I have a different wine cellar here with a different temperature for each type of wine. I haven't been sleeping while you see me. I prefer Riesling myself. Well, here we are, huh? At the white wine cellar. We'll select our own brand for our supper. Here. I'll open the door. Yeah. This is a privilege only an old customer like me can get away with. Come on. Dark down there. That's why they've got this candle here on the ledge. Got a match? Why a match? Down. Yeah. Here. Okay. Get this candle going. Good. Now let's go downstairs. George, you think we should do this on our Own done it hundreds of times. Been coming here for the last 10 years. Well, now, let's go to down these stairs. Careful thing. J. I was explaining about last night. Candle casts funny shadows, doesn't it? Notice how cool it is 20ft below seat level? Here. Look, I want to talk about last night. I. I don't want any misunderstanding. Huh? It's just that I've been working pretty hard. Look, to. Will it make you feel better if you showed me you're not afraid to do dark? Okay, you can show me. I'll blow out the candle. What are you trying to prove, Brewster? Nothing at all. It's your idea. Where are those matches I gave you? You gave me some matches? I must have lost them. It's not going to work, Brewster. I'm not insane, you know. I can stay down here until you're quite satisfied. Funny, isn't it, about the darkness. The way it seems to close in on you. The way you start thinking you can't breathe. I know. I. I can see how someone could. What's the matter, Tom? This is ridiculous. Something so suffocating about a dark room. Stop it. Stop it. Only the heavy, smothering blackness. Stop it. Where you going, Tom? Anything wrong? Anything wrong? Anything wrong? Ran out of that cellar like a kid. Like a kid Scared to death, Stone. That was a rotten thing for him to do. Well, he's fighting for his job, Stone. He's not too young anymore. He can't start all over again, so he'll do anything. Oh, great. I'm sure he's told the people down at work. I'm sure they're all laughing at me behind my back. You don't know what that does to him. I can imagine. Today I found a new desk lamp on my desk, courtesy of George Brewster. Every day. Something like that. Did you ask him why he's doing it? He won't admit he's doing anything. Since it's all my imagination, maybe I ought to see a doctor. Or better still, maybe a change of climate would help. I'd leave town in a minute. I mean, my future's at stake, too. Before I let him drive me crazy. Axel. On. Well, I'm going. I'm going to talk to this bird. Where does he live? Out in the suburbs. Lake Forest. To lose with his sister. All right. I'll give you a ring as soon as I've seen him. Mr. Stone, I hope you can do some good. Yeah. Oh, say, I almost forgot something. Why? That gun you made off with. Well, I. Maybe if we're lucky we can talk the store owner under pressing charges. I'll try. That was a crazy thing to do. I was so desperate. Wouldn't have done you much good. Wouldn't have put them in the window. They're never loaded. I'll let you in on a secret. If I hadn't known that, I wouldn't have been such a hero coming here tonight. I'll let you in on a secret, Mr. Stone. You can get bullets without a license. The gun's loaded now. Oh, great. All right, go. Go and get it for me. All right. Yes, I want to give it to you. It's in my bedroom. He started for the bedroom. Then it was almost like a comedy routine where after the big buildup, the punchline comes right out on cue. The moment he entered the other room, every light in the house suddenly went out. What happened to the lights? Take it easy. Where's the fuse box? I don't know. Never had any occasion to use it. Besides, if it was a fuse, all the lights wouldn't go out. It wasn't. You lose your head. How could I do it getting out of here? All lights out too. Or maybe something went wrong with the central wire. But why should it happen? Exactly. Now wait. Huh? The downstairs apartment. Their lights are on. If it was the wire. All right. Let's ask them where the fuse box is. Yes. Oh, Mr. Morris, my lights went out. It might be a fuse. Where are the fuse boxes for these apartments? Out in the back. I'll get a flashlight and show you. Here we are. The fuse box is right here below our meters. Whenever the people from the light company come out, they have a dickens of a time finding it. Can you hold the flashlight, student? Let me take a look. Wait a minute. Soon. Lower the flashlight just a little. Huh? It's not the fuse. Look at the master switch on my meter. Look at the one of Mrs. Graham's. Why? Somebody pulled your switch down to off. Yes, yes, someone surely did. Well, here, let me push it up there and look upstairs. All your lights are on again. That's probably some kids playing a joke. How do you suppose the rascals ever found it? It's so well hidden. I. I've got a theory that all kids come equipped with a special radar finding things like this. Mrs. Graham, tell this gentleman who used to live in my apartment before I did. Why Tell him why. You know, even got the apartment for you. Your friend, Mr. Brewster. What is that? It doesn't prove he didn't. For me it does, Star. For me it does. Morrison went around to the front of his house and up the stairs to his flat. I waited in the hallway until he came down again. He looked different. His face was hard and set. His eyes were like chunks of glass punched into the flesh. What are you waiting for, Stone? When we were so brutally interrupted, you were going for the gun. I've got it now. Ah, yes. Hand it over. I'll bring it back. No, thanks. Where are you going? And what are you gonna do? I'm fighting for my sanity, my life. He's never gonna do this to me again. Never. I can't let you do that. You're not gonna have to. The minute you leave, I'm gonna call every cop in the book. Yes, that's what you do, isn't it? Yes. Then I'd better give. This could become habit forming. I dropped to my knees in the hallway, and then the hallway subdivided, like something under a microscope. And there were two hallways, and then there were four. And then everywhere I looked, there were hallways. Morrison tried to push me aside and get by me, only it was a whole circle of Morrisons. I grabbed at his legs to hold him back, and it was like grabbing at a centipede. Then all the Morrisons in all the hallways brought all their guns down on my one poor head. And that was it, brothers and sisters. That was it. Feeling better, Mr. Stone? Oh, if I felt any better, I'd call in a bobber. Oh, what a business. I heard a commotion and I came out, and you were lying here. Oh, this my head. Or is it a canal? So how did it happen? And where's Mr. Morrison? Oh, Morrison, Morrison, yes. How long ago did you hear this commotion? Just a couple of minutes ago. You came out of it real fast. Yeah, I've got an eye on Constitution. Have you got a. Got a phone? Well, yes, but don't you think you. Come on, lady, grab my head, put it back on nice and neat, and let's get to that phone. Hello? Hello? This is the fellow who called you before, Brewster, about Morrison and your brother. Oh, yes. He's not there yet, huh? No, my brother is. I don't mean your brother. I mean Morrison. What? No. Oh, yes, he sure is. Now, give me your address, and the minute you hang up, get away from your house as fast as you can. Morrison's got a gun in his hat. Crazy. Maybe we should call the police. Well, maybe we should, but I'm not going to. They'd throw the book at him. 10 years for attempted murder. I think I can stop him before he does anything. I can't tell you how sorry I am about this later. You and your brother should be. The cab got me up to their Lake Forest house in less than 20 minutes. The house was on a hill, and a flagstone path wound round and round for a city block until it reached the front porch. As I ran up the walk, my head started rattling like a handful of pennies in a tin cup. I felt weak and tired. All the time I tried not to think about what I'd find when I reached the house. Now I was at the end of the path, walking toward the front porch. The nerve deep in my throat started jangling like a burglar alarm. The house was in darkness, and Morrison was standing beneath a little porch light, his gun pointed right at me. You won't quit, will you, Stone? What have you done with him, Tom? He hasn't done anything with him yet. Mr. Stone? Huh? Who is? I'm sitting over here at the end of the porch. I'm George's sister. Oh. I didn't see you in the dark. Why didn't you get away like I told you? I won't hurt her. It's him. He'll be coming along soon. George would never have done that again. I begged him not to take advantage of a man's weakness. Well, Mr. Brewster is coming home. His car is stopping at the bottom of the hill. Now he's starting the long climb. Morrison, listen to me. You just sit there, the both of you, and I must insist that you be very quiet. Please listen to me. Please. Please. Keep coming up that path, Brewster. It's a long, long way. You must listen to me, Morrison. You don't know what to do. Waiting near the porch light to go far below, the small figure of George Brewster making a long, slow climb. You're going to kill George because he found out about you here. But don't you see? George is afraid, too, of bigger things. Of being 53 and seeing his whole life going. Rooster had stopped at the first landing to catch his breath. Now he was climbing up the path again. He was fighting. Maybe a hundred steps from his death. I found myself counting steps. Why are you afraid of the dark this morning? Don't you see? If you weren't afraid, George couldn't hurt you anymore. Please listen to me. Keep your voice down. If you try to warn him, you both die, too. Keep coming, Rooster. Yes, he kept coming. No more than 70 steps now. What is there to fear about the d. The girl's voice going on and on. Nothing. Minutes. Brewster getting closer. All it does is hide the world. Less than 50 steps now. 40 steps. 30 steps. If you believe in God, if you believe in your own soul, how can you fear the night? What is there in the darkness that can hurt you? There's such peace in the darkness after the heat of day is gone. Rush the tumult. Struggle. You can breathe easy again. You can let the tightness inside unwind. He's almost close enough. Listen to me. Please listen. It's not going to work, Ms. Brewster. I'm going to try and run. Wait, Ms. Brewster. Where you are, Ms. Brewster? No, you must see me in the light, I tell you. Stay with Tom. Look at her. I didn't realize. I'm not afraid. What right have you to fear? Julie, is that you on the porch? What right have you to fear, Mr. Martin? What right? What a long climb. Must be getting old. Well, what are you doing here, Morrison? And who's this? Oh, don't mind me. I just came along for the ride. What's this all about? I. I just came to. To say goodbye, Brewster. You're leaving? Yes, I'm going back and tell them you've. You've done a good job here. It's not fair to replace you after so many years. You're sure nobody scared your way? Mars? Look at him, Brewster. Does he look like he's afraid? I don't know if Julie cured Morrison of his fear of darkness. Cure is a pretty strong word. But maybe she helped. I kind of think so. I do know this. It's going to be mighty hard for Tom to fear the darkness knowing Julie is not afraid. But neither Tom nor I will ever forget what we saw as the porch light lit up her face. Julie Brewster, who did not fear the darkness, was blind. And now that part of the story they always print in heavy type. The morals. And don't smile so indulgently. Morals are very nice things. Some of my best friends have morals, you know. Seriously, Julie's whole life is a morrow in itself. And trying to top it is like trying to find follow Al Jolson with a mammy song. The best you can do is tip your hat to the fellow who wrote out of the night that covers me. I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul. He must have had someone like Julie in mind. Well, 4:00 in the morning, stale cup of coffee, a tired sandwich and a story to dictate. And I worry a about my unconquerable soul. Ah, me. Give me a rewrite. Nightbeat, a new dramatic series stars Frank Lovejoy as Randy Stone. Nightbeat is written by Larry Marcus and directed by Warren Lewis. Music by Blank Worth. Listen next week at this same time and every week as Randy Stone searches through the city for the strange stories waiting for him in the darkness. The stories that come out of the shadows to find their way into night beats. Stay tuned for Brian Donlevy and Dangerous Assignments on Epic. If you have a locked AT&T phone, we're here with bolt cutters. T Mobile will help pay off your locked phone and give you a new 5G phone for free. All on America's largest 5G network. Visit t mobile.com carrier freedom via virtual prepaid MasterCard in 15 days. 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