Jack Webb (0:10)

This is Case Closed crime stories from the golden age of radio. My Name's Regan. Get 10 a day and expenses from a detective bureau run by a guy named Anthony J. Lyon. They call me the Lion's Eye. Jack Webb is Jeff Regan, investigator as CBS offers you hardboiled action and mystery and thrilling adventure in tonight's story of the man who lived by the se. The next time you're out for a drive, pick up Olive street along about the 700 block. You can't miss it. It's a big building made out of white granite. A cosmopolitan building. Anthony J. Lyon, the guy I work for, rents an office there. International Detective Bureau, Suite 308. A couple of rooms with a connecting wastebasket. The lion has the only desk in the office and the typewriter that Remington dropped from their catalog back in 1915. I walked in about 11 o' clock last Tuesday morning. The room was loaded with Taboo. She was a tall girl with a flock of black hair and a mink coat. The kind you see driving a Nash convertible down Sunset Boulevard on warm Sunday afternoons. No wonder the lion cigar was out, was wet on both ends. He had one arm around her shoulders. He knew by this time that coat was the real article. Wasn't any music, but he didn't seem to mind. Come on in, Regan. Not much room to dance. We got business. She's your date. This is Mr. Regan, Ms. Cara. How do you do, Mr. Regan? Mr. Lyon tells me you're just the man I want. He said the same thing to a mortician last week. Ms. Cara is associated with the famous psychic consultant Prince Nemo. I help the Prince look into people's minds. That ought to be fun if all your customers are under six. You don't believe in thought transference, Mr. Eagle, do you? Prince Nemo sent Miss Cara to retain an operator. Why didn't he come himself? Prince Nemo never appears in public. He misses some good ball games. He has television. Yeah, the Prince prefers to spend his time in meditation and thought. I handle all of his outside contacts. Regan, I want you to drive out to Prince Nemo's home in Ocean Town with Miss Cara and speak to the Prince. What kind of a retainer did he send you? We don't discuss finances in front of Clyde. Ah, this is another blind spot. You don't know what this guy wants. He said it's a very delicate matter and he wants to explain it to you himself. Oh, sure. She waltzed in here with a check and you'd sell your grandmother to a glue factory for two bucks. Is there any way I can reassure you, Mr. Reek? Buy me a battleship. You got a license and a contract with International. You want to tell me about it, Lady? Prince Nemo was very excited this morning. He called me in and told me to make the arrangements. It's not enough script. He never tells me anything. I just work for him. Will you, please? Yeah, all right. Here's a nickel. Call me and tell me what's up. Suppose I can't? Then you got something for your piggy bank? The lion stood there and watched us leave. He looked happy, like a hobo in a bubble bath. Well, we went downstairs. We climbed into her convertible. A guy in the parking lot had to take a walk around the block. When she flashed him a smoke smile, I asked her about lunch. She said no. I asked her about dinner. She said something that meant no. It's like that sometimes. The flags up, the meters ticking. You get nowhere. But from a couple of things she told me, I got the idea that she was doing more than help the prince read minds. His place turned out to be a good hour from Los Angeles, up 101. Couple of stories of glass and concrete leaning out over the ocean. Inside, a guy in a white turban and some pants that looked like oversized diapers put his hand on a big curved knife he had in his belt. He was wearing tennis shoes. Right this way, Mr. Regan. Butcher. That's guinea, the prince's man servant. He's from India, but the Indians were glad to get rid of him. Guinea's harmless, tongueless and he doesn't hear. I like you, Mr. Reagan. This is the Prince's study. Come in. Oh, come in. This is Mr. Regan. Of course. Welcome, sir. Welcome. The Lion's Eye. I'm honored, sir. Please, sit down. That'll be all, Lena. Of course. I'll be in my office. Charming girl, Lena. She handle all your outside contacts. Except for those matters I must attend to personally, Mr. Regan. I'm in trouble, Spade. For I want you to save my life. Well, look healthy. I am healthy, let me assure you. But my life has been threatened. They got police department. I thought you understood. This is a delicate matter. We aren't here to discuss me. Who's the guy? It's a lady, Mr. Regan. A very beautiful and lovely creature. And she'd like nothing better than to see my carcass go out with the tide. How do you know? She's erratic, ill tempered and ruthless anymore. Yeah, she called me this morning and told me what she intended to do. You got a chance to Reach for your gun to reach for you, Mr. Regan. Now, I feel the entire matter could be settled amicably if you were to call on her, inform her you are my personal bodyguard and that you are here to protect my life. What makes you figure she'd go for that? It's worth a try. And besides, I'm paying. Mm. Now, tell me how long you've been blackmailing her. Blackmail? What do you mean? Your racket might last six months, a year, but not long enough to build a place like this. The answer is blackmail. My dear fellow, I. Okay, okay, so I should have told you. Give it to me. Well, I can slip them into a trance. They spill a family secret or two. What kind of secret? Any kind. They want their minds read. I read them 25 bucks a hit. Where does the shakedown come in? When I tell them what they told me. You been putting a squeeze on her? She's an actress. She was in on a deal at the studios. And she won't shake. She said she'd blow my head off. Look, I'm in a spot, Rick, and she's the kind who do it and make love to the jury. Give me a name. Doris Patrick. Ever heard of her? Where'd she live? Palisades. Here's her dress. You going over to talk to her now? She isn't gunning for me. Oh, thanks a lot, Regan. You know, I've been sweating real good for a cold. Yeah, I'll try and catch one. You guys yell real loud when they answer back. I'm just thinking of my future, Regan. I won't look good dead. I left him sitting there scratching his bald head under his turban. He looked unhappy, like somebody fed him a Vaseline sandwich. Well, I climbed in my car and I followed the highway to the turnoff back to Sunset Malibu. Fog was coming in for the winter, and by the time I got to the address Nemo had given me, I was looking around for my hands. Doris Patrick's place was too big for a marble game and too small for football. There was a wire fence all around it and a sign every 15 or 20ft or so. It said not to trespass. I parked in the boulevard and walked up the driveway. It was about then that a guy in a blue suit showed up. He was tall and heavy, and he thought a lot of his hat. He pulled down on the brim, blue smoke in my face, and kind of nudged me with his shoulder. Pilgrim, we don't want any. How do you know? We're waiting for the 49s. Scram, huh? You aren't even on the list. All right, we'll wait for the 50s. Blow. I came to see Doris Patrick. Yeah? What for? You her? Sure. What do you want? Business. Shop closed. You always like this or you miss lunch today? Look, I don't know who you are, pilgrim, but you don't understand English. But I know you. There's something about a guy in a lineup. Yeah, he memorizes. Easy. Cop. Private. Private. A city. All smell the same to me. Hunting season's over. You always carry a.38, do you? Oh, that showing? Well, maybe you got a broken rib. Well, I met all kinds of funny guys. I said I wanted to see her. Ain't in Watchdog. Now you're getting smart. Well, you aren't. What kind of crack is that? Just this. I'm going in. Trick I learned a long time ago. You shoot a guy in the knee and he don't ever walk straight again. Ever done it, punk? Oh, sure. That's how I learned. That's when I learned, baby. He slumped against the side of the wall and he looked tired, like he'd been running from Compton. Well, I left him there and I went up the driveway to the porch. Coming around a blind corner, I bumped into something that kind of relaxed. And rolled into me was a blonde girl, about 25, in a white polo coat. I was willing to try it again, but she began talking with a voice that was deep enough to go in the oil business. I thought you might be running interference, but you look like the whole team. Whose side are you on, lady? I keep score. Doris, Patrick, you're on the right field. Where's the locker room? Maybe I like you. Where do you come from? Right here. Didn't know we raised your kind anymore. Or did you grow wild? Do I pass? What'd you say your name was? Regan. Welcome. Which highway? Straight ahead to the den. Nice place you got. When's harvest time? I said welcome. That isn't what the tall boy said. Tall boy? A blue suit with a.38 and a hat. That'd be Jesse. I was married to him once. What about now? He hangs around like that sometimes. I never see much of him. Trouble? No, not much. You got a lot of size, mister. Must have been good. Do that kind of thing often? Only when I have to sit down. How do you like it? Soda or water? You're away. There now. Isn't that better? I don't know. This is my first drink. You'll get another. It's a cold day. Not in here. You're Quick must have a good straight man. His name's Prince Nemo. Must we talk about him? He thinks you're dangerous stuff. What do you think? Right now or when I'm a couple of feet away? Now. Hey, now, look. Remember me? I just got here. Your name's Reagan, and we're gonna get along. Yeah, it's in the car. You got a fast deck. Go ahead, deal. How much time between rounds? Yes. Who? Oh, just a minute. You know somebody named Lion? Yeah. He has quad A roar. Yeah, yeah. Who's the name? Who? Answer the phone. Nemo's friend. Sounds like he's a friend of yours. All right. You got something to say? It's all off. Check. Bounce. It was certified. Nemo called 10 minutes ago. And cancel a contract. Now what happens now? Come back the office. Who told you I was here? It was a quick change. We got paid. Well, I already started something. I don't care what you started. You finish it on your own time and expense. Bad news. Well, I'm through working for the day. I was an old friend of the family when I left. She didn't want me to go. But I was thinking about Prince Nemo and the way that nothing made sense. Sense? Oh, the whole thing looked phony. Like an undertaker in a white derby. It didn't take 2020 vision to see that somebody was getting anxious to make a play. By the time I got home, I figured I was out of it. But my company had other ideas. It was Jesse, and he had friends. You should lock your door, Reagan. Why? You'd crawl under. All right, fellas. Friends. I just hired him. You got a parade permit? Stan, say hello to Regan. Hello, stupid. What about Skinny? Hiya, Grogan. Name's Reagan. He's a detective. Isn't that right? You're pretty good with your women, Regan. You know, you look lonesome. Jesse. You got something to say, stay away from it. You're shaking. You want a drink? Already had one. Stand Skinny. Set him on a bed. We go. Oh, Regan. Once more. Once more. Stay away from it. You said that before. I want to make sure you understand. Stan. Skinny, hold his arms. I've said all the right words. Maybe my punctuation's bad. Lay off. Period. Lay off. Period. Lay off. Period. Okay, okay. Leave him on the bed. Hey, he rolled off. That's fine. Fine. Now he won't have to change his sheets. Jesse was good. When I got up, my face looked like a relief map of Pasadena. He was wearing a signet ring. He left out some of the boulevards. But The Rose bowl was right out in front. I found a drink in the cabinet and I started for the mirror to see what was left. Was about then I heard a knock on the door. It was a little guy in a cab driver suit. It figured that he got the job because they ran out of big uniforms. They double crossed him on that cap. If it wasn't for his ears, he'd have been wearing a snood. Hiya. Yeah. Football. What do you want? Your name Regan. That's what it says in the mailbox. I'm not a friend of yours today. Get to the point, will you? A game named Lena Cara. Yeah, Lina Cara. Some fish. All right, you're in the register. Wait, wait. That ain't all. She wants to see you. What about then? Say, just had to see if he was home. You home? Yeah, I got her down my cap. We'll send her up. I don't think she can make it. What do you mean? She looks kind of funny. Maybe you better come down. She was sitting on the edge of the seat, staring out at nothing. Her back was as stiff as a filing cabinet. There was a little ring of white around her lips. I paid off the cabbie and I took her back up to my place without a word. When we closed the door, she was sitting on my sofa the same way. Only this time she had a.25 automatic in her hand. Well, well. Where'd you get the gun, lady? Gun? Oh, I bought it for $30. Can I see it? Oh, yes, Mr. Ain. I brought it so I could show it to you. I paid $30 for. $30? Yeah. It's brand new, isn't it? Oh, yes, of course. Did you know Prince Nemo was my husband? Since when? Long time now. Not many people know that. Did you come here to tell me that? No, no. I came to tell you that you don't have to worry anymore. About what? About what my husband hired you for. Well, I've already been called off. Oh, I didn't know that. Did you meet Darth Patrick? Yeah. Then it was about her. What do you want, lady? Nothing. Nothing at all. Just we. We don't have to worry anymore, do we? Tell me about the gun. Doris is very pretty, don't you think? Seen her on the screen many times and she's quite pretty. Could hardly blame the prince at all. Why'd you bring the gun? Imagine the air would be cleaner there, don't you? What are you talking about? Really very humane. Me? Tim, come on, stop it. Just like sitting down and never waking up. I read all about it. Let's walk in and sit down. You don't try to hold your breath. Stop it, sis. Stop it. Now, listen to me. What is it? What have you done? What are you trying to say? I know. I'm trying to hold your breath. You go right to sleep, don't you? You're trying to tell me that you killed him. They don't make such a great deal of noise, do they? He's been sitting there in his house by the sea. He looks very much alive. Only. Only. Only he isn't alive at all. Tell me, Mr. Regan, tell me, do I make a good murder? Well, after she got through screaming, she settled down to a slow, even kind of giggle that started somewhere around her shoelaces and didn't get past her knees. Gave me a feeling like somebody was unwrapping an atomic bomb under a Christmas tree. Well, she wasn't going to do any more talking, so I went downstairs and brought back a doctor friend of mine named Sammy Wing. He had his little black bag with him and he gave her a shot of something she wielded like last night's organ. Went to sleep. Sammy wrote down a couple of things and then he looked up at me. Some playmate. Wish I'd have been here for the party. How is she, Sam? You know her better than me. Oh, she gonna be all right. In four or five hours, she'll wake up and want some water. Then what? She might ask you what happened. Or it might start all over again. By the way, what was it? I don't know. She came over to see me. I should have visitors like this. I've been working too hard. She said she killed a guy who was a client of mine. Maybe I'm lucky at that. Why the past tense? The lion called me off the case. Official, huh? Yeah. You got nobody to protect. Where's the corpse? At a house in Ocean Town. Here. Call the police and you and me can go out and do our Christmas shopping. Well, she said she used this gun. A.25 would kill people. Now, Sammy, there's a bullet jammed in the chamber. James. Don't know how to reload it. Hasn't been fired. Ballistics got better ways of telling. She's pretty and she's nice and I'll bet she looks like a million bucks in a bathing suit. But if I'd have met her within the last three hours, I'd have run for help. Is that professional? Acute hysteria. The kind that pops off guns and people and does a lot of things they can't remember. Later on, call Sanduchi. He doesn't figure she'd do it with this. Maybe she had another one. While you're at it, call the coroner. Tell him to go out there with some DOA forms. No, I'm going first. Corpse hunt. Just an idea. Labrutier. He had an idea. Yeah. This dame's bit somebody and she's told you her story. Well, I don't like it. What do they do when a private eye messes up an open and shut murder case? Sammy, stay with her, will you? There's some bourbon out in the kitchen. Maybe both of us will get our pictures in the papers. I left him sitting there. He looked sad. Like a water buffalo caught in a drought. I pushed through the fog for about 40 minutes. And I pulled up in front of Nemo's place in ocean town about 9:30. It was dark enough to give a ghost the crete. I use that ring of keys that I'd taken from her purse and I went inside. Smelled dry and still. Like somebody was waiting for the world to fall apart. I clicked on my flash and I walked down the long hall to his office. He was there, just like she said. There were three holes in the front of his shirt. Close range. But it wasn't the laundry's fault. He'd been dead maybe two hours. The desk drawer showed some canceled checks made after Doris Patrick. While I was thinking that over, I spotted a.38 Smith & Wesson on the floor by his hand. Lane had been carrying a.25. I broke it. Three cartridges fell out. From the looks of the holes in his chest, the.38 was the gun for the job. Well, that made her story in the.25 A Fairy Tale. While I was kneeling there, a light went on by. Fat man wearing a sheriff star was standing by the switch. A tall leather jacket with a flashlight in his hand was in front of me. I began to feel helpless. Like a trombone player with a short arm. Son. You don't talk. Charlie Much for him to say, is it Cap? It's not. Well done. You're gonna be calling me names. What do you like best? Killer? Murderer? Slayer? Papers use slayer a lot. I don't like any of them. Kind of breezy for a hot boy, ain't ya? You mind giving me a name? Regan. I'm with the International Detective Bureau. It's Regan, Cap. He's with the International Detective Bureau. Got a card or something, son? Yeah, here. This guy here a friend of yours? My client once. What'd you do for him? Okay, tell me this. Why'd you Plug him. There's another story. Any good? Better than the one you got. You'll have a hard time selling it. It's a fix. Oh, why you want to say a thing like that? How long you been on the force? Easy, Regan. Me and Caps being nice. Phone call a little while ago. Funny kind of voice. Said we'd find her stiff here. Didn't say we'd find you. Yeah, you're extra. The dame who worked for him told you. Tell Homicide. No, that was a mistake. Where's this girl now? Name? Charlie. Call a coroner. Ocean Town is just a small place. Only me and Charlie around. We borrow from the county when we get something like this. Well, I can find you a real answer in an hour. You got ideas. Lots of them. You can tell me all about them later. We got a corpse. We got a suspect. You know, that's good. Even a weapon. I'll have an alibi when you check the time of death. We'll worry about that later on. All right, son, let's go. Well, I had about as much chance as an elephant in the tea room if those two locked me and the. I leaned back into his gun, spun around, knocked his wrist down. He pulled the trigger, but I'd already hit the light switch and he was making rockets in the dark. I left my car there and cut across the highway and doubled back up the hill. They spread out in the wrong direction. An hour later, I was standing in front of the lion's door. He was wrapped in a bathrobe big enough to keep all the silkworms working overtime. What do you want? Information. You've been drinking. I've been working at Lena Carris here. You said her. She called me and said she wanted to hire you for something else after Nemo canceled the contract. Why? You gave her my address. I thought you ought to talk to her. What she want? She told me that she killed the Prince. She can't do that. We got a contract. Well, it's already been done. We're in a spot. Yeah, I figured that'd get through to you. They'll be asking me all kinds of questions. Why didn't you think of that before you signed? What are we going to do? You're going to find out where this.25 came from and if anybody fired it. She was carrying it when she came to me. I don't want to get in far. Well, you're in it up to your ears. I went out there and found the prince. Only a.38 might have done the job. Yeah, well, that cleans her up? Not yet. The Ocean Town sheriff and a guy named Charlie are looking for me before. I think I know something. Oh, yeah? Not yet. There was a tip off. Somebody was supposed to be a patsy. Where's Kara now? My place with Sammy Wing. I'm gonna get a lawyer. It'll look good. All right. Give me the keys to your car. Why? I got a date. Find out who fogged Nemo and we won the championship. You'll have to give the cup back. You cheated. I drove back out to Doris Patrick's place in the Palisades. And I rang the bell and waited. Took her a while, but she showed. She was wearing a filmy kind of a thing that made a spider's web look like canvas. I began to feel warm, like a sun lamp on a picture set. We had a date at 9 o' clock. I broke my watch. Come in. I'll see if I can fix it. I'm great for this. Swiss movement. Yeah, it shows. We were going to look at the stars together. How long you been here? I gave you up at 10. Tell me, how do you like my new dress? It's the right color, but the wrong cut for a funeral. I haven't read the obituaries today. No? It'll be in tomorrow's paper. Have a drink and let's wait for tomorrow. Your friend Nemo was killed tonight. He was no friend of mine. I told you that. So did he. He fall off his house? Murdered. We've been having fun up to now. You know you'll be first. Guess I don't think I like that he tried to blackmail you. Stories backwards. Well, that's the way it comes out. Not quite. You got another way? He never tried to blackmail me. I blackmailed him. How? I went to him one day and put him in a trance. Only I used Scotch. I found out what he was doing and how he was doing it. So I turned the tables with good clean fun. But expensive for him. But now, if he was your meal ticket, then you have an alibi, huh? There'd be canceled checks somewhere right where I could find him. I'm telling you the truth. Where does Jesse fit? I told you. We were married once. He's jealous. Did he know about Nemo? Maybe. He was watchdog. When I came out, I told you. Jesse. Hello, gorgeous. I still have a key. What do you want? You get out. You still trapping with this tramp? Just in time, Jesse. You know, you didn't listen good. I told you to lay off. Where's your friend? Paid off. I'm handling this alone. We've been finished for a long time. We're starting up again, Angel. Or didn't you know Nemo was dead? I saw you. 38 tonight, Jesse. Ah, you're wrong. It's her. 38. It's got her prints on it. What do you mean? I put him there. And you're gonna be tagged for his murder, Angel. You see, you're sorta in a spot. Break it easy, baby. This punk never did anything right. Ah, tell me how wrong I've been. All right. That tip the ocean town cops was wrong. Killing Nemo was wrong. Ah, you twisted pilgrimage cops got a warrant out for you right now. Yeah, I heard it on the car radio. Murder suspect. Plugging you is something they'll thank me for with her prints on the gun. Well, how was I to know? I just see you and plug you. Everybody will be sorry. But it'll be manslaughter and suspended. It's pretty right, isn't it? What about me, a friend of mine? Shoving off at Pedro tonight, Angel. Going all over the world. We'd be together. Well, Angel, I plug him and meet you somewhere in two weeks. All right, move over, Regan. The lady's making up her mind now. What do you like? Oh, it was a real photo finish. Just as Jesse set the gun up against my head, Doris pulled a gun from the desk drawer and threw a couple of fast ones into him. Jesse tried for. I'd call it a dead heat, but you'd have to give Doris the edge. Her first slug cut him down like a blade of grass. But she didn't give up. Angel. Angel. Well, he's all used up. Never shot anyone before. You look like a professional. Give me the gun. He deserved to die, didn't he? Didn't he? I don't know, lady. You knew him better. Well, it all unwound like red thread in a Levi factory. Nemo told me his phony story so he'd have a good self defense angle when he finally got around to killing Doris Patrick some afternoon. Jesse worked for him to keep me out. But I bounced him and got inside. When Jesse phone Nemo about it, Nemo called the lion and had me jerk before we could compare notes. I guess Jesse went kind of crazy when he saw how well we got along. He got an idea and killed Nemo and made Doris a patsy with those fingerprints. Lena Kara, well, she went kind of crazy too. She found Nemo dead and got the idea she did it. It took three doctors a couple of days to tell her what really happened. And the lion was mad when he found out there wasn't any money in it. But then when he saw Doris Patrick's picture in the paper, he got kind of curious. He asked just one question. What did I do? All that afternoon? I was out in her house. I didn't even bother to answer. Jack Webb is featured as Jeff Regan with Herb Butterfield as Anthony J. Lyon. The story of the man who lived by the sea returned tonight by special request and was written by E. Jack Newman. Produced by Sterling Tracy. In tonight's cast, the role of Doris Patrick was played by Yvonne Petey. Also heard Sidney Miller, Peggy Weber, Paul Freeze, Marvin Miller and Barry Kroger. Music for this program is by Milton Charles. This is Bob Stevenson speaking. This is cbs, the Columbia Broadcasting System. Pat Novak for higher. Sure, I'm Pat Novak for hire. That's what the sign out in front of my office says, Pat Novak for hire. Oh, you don't get in the Blue Book that way. But you don't embarrass your friends either. Because down on the waterfront in San Francisco, they don't separate the good and the bad. They let them run together. Before long, you got a cast system. You're either alive or dead. If you're on top, keep fading the crowd and trying for sevens until you lose the dice. It's about the only way to play it, unless you like worms. I rent boats and do anything else that'll put a fast handle on a buck. But it doesn't always work out because down here all your luck is junior grade and trouble is trumps. I found that out. Tuesday night was the first time I ever saw Reuben Calloway. And the last time, too, if you like to keep a tidy record, was about 7 o' clock and I just started back across the bay from Sausalito. You could still see Mount Tamil Pius squatting on the Marin shore. Light brown near the top, but dark and black farther down, like a cupcake that's been in the oven a little too long. A low fog was beginning to squeeze in on the far side, so I kicked in the searchlight and that's when I picked him up. He was struggling feebly with his face near the water and was almost bald so that when the light hit him, he looked like a cantaloupe that somebody got tired of. I pulled alongside and started to haul him aboard. He brought most of the bay with him. Help me, please. Yeah. Wait till I get a hold of you, will it? Come on. There. Now sit down. No, here. Lean against the gunnel oh, yeah. Yeah. Thanks. Is the water red or you've been shot? A little. Do you have to know everything? No, it's your load. Carry it, mister. Yeah. Come on, move your feet. I gotta get us ashore. If you like it, go ahead, but don't hurry for me. Well, if you feel that way about it, pick another spot to die and go back in the bay where you'll have company. You gotta help me. I want you to get in touch with that girl named Alma Biggs. Yeah. You'll find her at the Empire Club out on Geary Street. My name's Reuben Callaway. Tell her about me. She'll pay you for it. What'd she do, collect bodies? Just give her this key. It's for a locker down in the bus station. Now, look, Pop, you don't know me. Suppose I use the key? You can't spend it. You better take the money. All right. Just see, I'm told it didn't work out. It didn't work out for me at all. I guess that's right, huh? On the big things, you're 100%. I don't need it. Chad. Here. Shut up. I told you I don't want you dying in here. Stop beefing, sir. You don't have all the bad luck. They must have sent a fast chariot because when I leaned over, the guy was dead. And he was working hard at it, too. He was a skinny little guy, all bent up and twisted in the bottom of the boat like an old paper clip. Wouldn't do any good to straighten him out because he wasn't going to sleep easy. His eyes were open and rolling around at the sky as if he was on the make for a star. And the skin hung loose around his face so that when you touched it, it felt like an empty baked potato. I pushed him into a corner and I started for Pier 19. When I got there, I hauled him onto the dock and I went down to call Homicide. Must have been about 8:30 when I took a cab out to the Empire Club. It was a gambling joint out on Geary street where they cut their whiskey and cards in different rooms. I asked the guy at the window if he knew Alma Biggs and he pointed her out by the roulette table. She was wearing a white satin evening gown. As I walked up behind her, I noticed she moved in rhythm with the roulette wheel. It was interesting. If it had been a merry go round, they'd have pinched her. I squeezed in next to her at the table and I was thinking of trying it again. When she started to talk. It's a tight fit. Are you sure you like it? I'm not gonna stay long. That's what Rudolph has said. Make your vets. Ladies and gentlemen, gamblers make their best. Stake me, Alma. I can't afford you, darling. Go broke for Reuben Callaway, then. Four on the red. Four on the red. I ought to keep you for luck, darling. You comb me a hand. I'll take the chips. They look bad on Callaway. Oh, it's too crowded here. Let's find a closet. Did he look pretty for a fish? He was all right. Who are you? Pat Novak. I picked him up in the bay. He said to look you up and tell you it didn't work out. That would please Turk. Yeah? Who's Turk? The reason it didn't work out. That all, Mr. Novak? Except for a key that fits a bus station locker. Here, you keep it, Mr. Novak. It won't buy anything. Now, look, sweetheart. I picked up your boy and dried him out, but that's all. We were small friends at best. So the service has stopped. You can come to a slow stop for $200. Take the key and pick up what's in that locker. I'll get it from you later. Yeah, I'll meet you in an hour. Where's a good place? Your apartment? Well, it's a place. I'll find it in the book. I hope you don't mind. No, the thin walls will save me. What's in that locker? What would it prove? Proves you got a small mouth, angel. Unless you're gonna kiss it. Don't worry. 9:30, then. All right, I'll bring the 200 with me. Don't worry about the dough. Oh, because I scooped your chips off the table. I'll see you later. She stood there watching me as I walked over to the cashier's window. She gave you a nice warm feeling like a Bunsen burner in the middle of your back. As she stood there in the center of the floor, smiling, you knew she could turn a glacier into a steam bath at 400 yards. A nice little mouse that made you want to go home and test all the old traps. Well, I cashed in her chips and the boy at the window shoved out 200 rocks in a pained look as if he just handed over his right lung. I got a cabin. Rode down to the bus station at 7th and Market. There were a few people sitting at the counter and a couple of old men on the benches waiting for somebody to get up and leave the funny papers. I went over near the wall and opened up the locker. It was a long trip for a small package. A square manila envelope, and there was an address up in the corner. Ruben Calloway, photographer. I squeezed the envelope and it felt like photographs, but I wasn't sure. I started to close the locker when I turned and then I tumbled for the first time. It's like getting a drop of rain on your hand before you ever look up at the sky. The two of them were standing over by the cigar counter, watching me. A guy with a heavy overcoat and a little small guy about the size of a hangnail. It wouldn't do any good to sit down because I knew they'd stay until somebody condemned the building. So I walked past him out onto the street and there was a cab standing right in front. Cab. Mister? Yeah. Swing up towards the St. Francis, will you? Yeah. Now, look, you're going to be tailed, so brush up on your alleys if you like it that way. Hey, you were supposed to take a left there on Mission. I got a license. Where's yours? I told you to double back over market. Get out and walk if you don't like it. I've been fought, mister. Oh, my two friends. That's right. You should have come first. I ought to park your hair. You got more chance with them. Here we are. Where you going? You like Alley's? That's what you're going to get. Yeah. Make it easy, fella. You're not going anywhere. You were nice while you lasted. Take it easy. You better walk up a wall. They'll block the alley, see? Crowded alley, huh? Yeah. Give me the envelope so we can all get out. Can Junior help you? Give me the envelope there. I'll see it. Yeah, still sealed. You all through? I don't know. I'll see. Like him, Joe? No. That's the way it is, mister. He don't like you. I slid down like an old sock on a bony leg. I rolled over a couple of times. I tried to stand up, but it wasn't easy. You might as well try to find a hair in a bowl of chop suey. Began to rain, and I figured it'd be easier to float out to the street. So I went to sleep. When I woke up, the rain hadn't helped the alley much. It's like washing your kid's face and finding out he was ugly to start with. The mud had washed up against the walls and was a thick, sour smell. And down the alley across the street, there was part of a sign sticking out that said, Eats that Isn't what you felt like at all. I started groping around to get up and my hand hit the pictures scattered all over like clothes in a boarding school. I picked them up and I started for the street. On the way up in the cab, I got a chance to look at them. And they didn't make sense. There were six of them and they were all just about the same. A bunch of mob scenes of that fire over in Oakland. I didn't have time to figure it out because the cab pulled up in front of the St. Francis. And I went in to call Alma Biggs and tell her the party was off. Part of that alley. Must have come with me, because when I walked into the lobby, the doorman looked at me as if I just blown up a nunnery. I tried the number once, but nobody answered. I decided to wait 20 minutes and call again. That was a mistake because I just got in the booth and started the dial. When somebody started rapping on the door with a nickel. It was Hellman from Homicide. Hello, Novak. Come on out. You can't get a date in that suit. What do you want, Hellman? Come on out. You're a hard man to find. You don't look in the right places. I'm a family man. Tell me about the dead guy. I don't know Hellman. He died in my boat. That's all I know. He didn't say anything. Just sentimental stuff. His name's Reuben Calloway and somebody threw him in the bay without instructions. I don't know a thing about him except he takes pictures. Yeah, I'll wipe off the drooler. Not your kind. Who are his friends? He's got new ones by now. I don't know, Hellman. How about that guy on your couch, huh? I just left your place. How about the guy on the couch? There's a gal up there, but that's all. Does she wear suspenders? Huh? Then take my word it's a man. And you're going to tell me he's dead? Hellman? No, I'm not going to tell you he's dead, Novak. He may be a soft breather. When Hellman mentioned the stiff up at my place, I knew we were gonna be in low gear the rest of the night Because Hellman isn't an easy guy. He wouldn't give his wife an aspirin if she had concussion of the brain. He took me out the side door and we rode up to my apartment. The dead guy was lying on the couch with his arms across his chest as if he wanted somebody to give him a lily or a way out of this. The lamp was shining down in his face and the light was distorted. But when you stood over him, you could see his face was the color of pressed seaweed. If he had anything to be happy about, you couldn't tell because his mouth was open and hung over to one side like a loose change purse filled with old teeth. His clothes were rumpled and his shirt was open at his neck. You could see a chain around his neck and a silver medal in the dull light against his chest. It looked out of place and made you feel funny. Like seeing a picture of a Madonna in a bowling alley. I watched him while Hellman made noise. He still looks like a man. Yeah? Who is he? George Leggett. What does that prove? Who his mother was. We're checking for a record. The gun, too. What gun? One was lying here on the floor, mixed up. Novak. There's a connection. I'll shop around till I strike it. You couldn't strike oil in a filling station. You got a double murder. Shop for a pair of people. I'll shop far enough to get you, big shot. Far enough to see you fry. Well, you got the lard for it, Hellman. If you keep your mouth shut now, you can hold in the blood. Hello? Hellman talking. Yeah. When you find out that makes it easier. You sure the same gun killed them both? Yeah. Yeah, I'll be in. Well? Oh, wrong number, Novak. They didn't give Hellman a sense of humor. They gave him a loud laugh instead. When he walked out of my place, he was smiling like a funny man who's just exposed Santa Claus. I didn't feel very funny myself. I took another look at those pictures and I was as mixed up as a guy with a Mexican divorce. They were just ordinary pictures of a fire in Oakland. What made them so important? I was sure that Gunsel had taken some of the pictures. But were they any different than these? And why was Alma Biggs afraid to pick them up? And who was? A guy named Turk. I was full of questions, but no answers. Like some guy at a peace conference. Well, if I went over it anymore, I'd be counting my toes. So I got out of there and I looked up Jocko Madigan. Oh, he's a good guy. And he was a smart one, too. Until he decided the only way you can get a good trade in on hard luck is with a bottle of whiskey. I found him at Emilio's Bar, patting Bill the bartender on the back with one hand and pouring Jiggers of gin with the other at the tables down at Murray's in the place where Louis dwells Baa, baa, baa Gentlemen songsters off on a spree Doomed from here to eternity Jocko, I want to talk to you. Shh, Patsy, I'm driving a Harvard man crazy. He's at the end of the bar. Stop drinking and listen to me. I've got to keep on drinking, Patsy, if I want to preserve any continuity in my life. Because I don't drink to forget, but rather to remember. To remember all the pleasant events of my life. There were two of them, I think. All right, Jocko. The first was a girl I met many twilights ago. And the second was a summer night in St. Louis when a bartender felt crazed with the heat and set him up on the house. Will you stop? But I'm in trouble. Memory is a blessed toy, Patsy. But you have to be careful because it can be dangerous. Like giving a rifle to a small child for Christmas. Oh, it's true. He can get some temporary pleasure out of it by shooting various neighbors. But sooner or later he's going to kill the only rich relative in the family. Jackal. I'm tired. Memories the same way. So you're entitled to collect the few good ones you have. You're allowed to straighten them out and put them in order. After all, an old pool ball gets racked now and then. You all through? Yes. I've run out of memories. Hellman thinks I killed two guys 10 miles apart. Wasn't it difficult? The same murder gun. The whole thing is tied up with some pictures in color. A guy by the name of Ruben Calloway died in my boat. He gave me a key to a locker downtown. The pictures were there. Is that one of them? Yeah, it is. Take a look. Uh huh. If it's a group picture, they were a very unruly family. It's the Oakland fire. Two gunsels followed me and took some of the pictures. In the meantime, some guy got shot in my place. Everybody's after the pictures. Why? Well, have you seen the other pictures? No. I took an intermission. That's why you gotta help. You'll find Reuben Calloway's address in the phone book. Get up there and go through his stuff, will you? It doesn't sound legal. Neither's a bum murder rap. Get up there and go through his pictures. Try to find anything that'll fit in with his set. What are you going to do? Besides jail? I gotta find a gal named Alma Biggs. Oh, you'll have trouble with a name like that. She's probably changed it. The locker key was tabbed for her, but she hired me to run her errands. Is she pretty? Yes, if you like a fast track. Now get up there, Jocko. Why can't I see him? Will you stop it, Jocko? Just get up there. Forget about her. She'd scare you to death. Yes, well, at least I die hopeful. Good night, lover. Finding Alma Biggs was quite a job. I knew she was around, but I couldn't get to her. It was like trying to get a peanut shell out of a back tooth. I called the Empire Club, but they didn't know anything about her. I went through all the phone books and the city directories and I didn't get anything but a sore thumb. I didn't do any better with the hotels. I sat in lupos and called them all. And by one o' clock I knew more desk clerks than a vice squat cop. But no Alma Biggs. Finally, I went out to the Empire Club and I started talking to the cabbage. About 15 minutes later, one pulled up and remembered taking a girl in a satin evening gown up to an apartment on the hill. I called Hellman and I rode up there to check the names. Alma Biggs had an apartment on the second floor. I knocked on the door and she didn't answer, so I tried it. The lights were out, so I closed the door and groped over to the desk. I should have noticed the draperies as I passed because they were full of people. Wait a minute. All right, now wait a minute, Mr. Novak. Stop breaking things. Someday you may want to mend me. Do you always sleep in the curtains? Do you always talk this long in the dark? Turn on the light. Yeah, I wanted to see who you were. George Leggett? Maybe. Oh, do you know him? We're roommates. He died on my couch tonight. Anything serious or just humdrum death? He's satisfied. What do you know about him? I never heard anybody say a bad thing about him. Of course, I never heard anybody mention him. Now look, angel, it's late. Who's George Leggett? Why do you care? Because Homicide cares. They got Callaway and Leggett back to back and they want my skin. It's a nice skin, darling. Where are the pictures? Unless you're a social worker, you're not going to like them. Here, let me see. They're not all here. Yeah, I figured that. Where are the other pictures, Patsy? In some gone up's album. Two of them jumped me down near Mission Street. Who are they? We never got that friendly. Well, there couldn't have been two of them. Well, maybe the little guy was just window dressing, but he gave the right answers. Patsy, I think you're a liar. You're nicer than Homicide. I want those pictures. You do, and I'm gonna take them away from you. If I had him, that's a big enough gun to do it. Get the pictures, Patsy. It's a bad time for murder, Angel. Homicide's working this week. I haven't time, Patsy. I'll push you down like a blade of grass. Get the pictures. Now, look, sweetheart, I took a job for 200 bucks. It covers a tandem murder rap and a sapping down on Mission Street. But it won't cover big talk from you. Now put the gun away or I'll binge you hard. Don't move up when you talk. You're around behind. Give it to me. It feels good. Let it go or take the pain. Drop it. You don't have to hang on. Not a barbell. You're handy now. Who's Turk? But you're hurting my arm. There's a guy named Turk. I want to know who he is. You're late for that. Who is he? Go ahead and tear it all, but you'll die ignorant. Yeah? You sound blue, Novak. What do you want, Hellman? I want to give you a reason. We got the coroner's report on George Leggett. Yeah? He died in your apartment. The blood off your carpet looks good on these lines. All right, so the murderer sold me the rug. So what, Hellman? So we ran down George Leggett's record. A Detroit gunman who got out here six weeks ago. Yeah, he traveled for years with a guy named Turk Spaniel. That's your boy. You better find him. We already have. Don't tell me he's up on the couch. He was born too soon for you. We checked with Detroit Police. What'd they say? They know all about Turk Spaniel. He was killed nine years ago in West Detroit. But they found the guy that did it and sent him up to Lansing for life. Yeah. Yeah, he was a guy named Joe Biggs. Say hello to your girlfriend. Well, I didn't talk to the girl because I knew she'd close up faster than a Dublin meat market. On Friday, I left her and went down to the Chronicle morgue to find out what I could about Turk Spaniel. Hellman had covered it. Spaniel talked too much. And Joe Biggs killed him and left him growing out of a ditch like an old weed. I didn't know where to turn. Now, with the Turk gone, who was after those pictures besides Alma Biggs? And what did they prove? I knew the answer was there, probably in plain sight, like a blimp on a football field. But I couldn't get near it. It was past two when I got back to my apartment and the phone was screaming for help. Yeah? Hello, Patsy. This is Jocko. What'd you find out? That Calloway was quite a photographer. Yeah. You should see some of the pictures. Oh, I'm in love again. All right. Jocko, did you find anything? There's a check for a thousand dollars from Alma Bake. Yeah. What else? Some more pictures of the Oakland fire. One of them looks good. Yeah, it's just like the rest, except in the background something is circled with a red pencil. That'll do it. Jocko, there's a clipping here with another picture. I. I can't tell, but I think they match. What's it say? Well, it's all about Jocko. What's the matter? Are you all right? Jocko? Jocko, you all right? He says to tell you no. After Jocko's call, I grabbed a cab and rode up to Callaway's apartment. When I got there, Jocko was sitting in the middle of the floor as sad as a steer on a sheep ranch. He hadn't seen who hit him and the picture was gone. So was the clipping. I asked him if there were any negatives around. He said no. That meant somebody was still on the prowl for the negatives. So I called Hellman and briefed him and he said he'd meet us at Reuben Calloway studio in 10 minutes. When we got there, it was dark, but I sensed Hellman in the back room. Turned out to be a couple of pans of acid, but he was there going over the negatives. All this guy did was take pictures. Let me take a look, will you, Hellman? Can you spot the right one? Jocko, hold him up to the light. Here are the fire pictures. How about this one? No, no, I had that one. Yes, that's it. And this fellow back here is the one that was circled. Hold it up so I can see. Hello, Turk, you waited too long. Give me the picture, Mister. All that gun will do is make noise, Spaniel. And it won't make enough to keep a secret. Just hand me the picture. Somebody knows you're alive. Now, the picture's for last. Your word against mine. I'll be so far away I can't Hear the argument? Let me have it. Don't give it to him, Novak. Yeah, I'll give it to him. You take it away, Hellman. Thanks, Novak. That alley taught your manners. Stand over there. I want to remember the way you looked. Don't worry. I'll tell you about the Turks. You keep backing into this gun, it's going to show around your breastbone. Guns are getting cheap. You better drop yours, Spaniel. Over there. You look the same, Turk. Almost the same. You got this all wrong, Alma. Joe doesn't look the same. Nine years in the cooler and you lose your personality. Please, Alma, don't do anything crazy. After nine years, you lose almost everything. Joe's lost everything but me. Down on the floor, Spaniel. I want you on your knees. Please. Please, Alma, you got it wrong. I got it all right, Turk. Because Joe wouldn't lie to me when he said he didn't kill you. I knew you were alive. Please, Hellma. Down on the floor beside the table. Go easy, baby. You got a copper here. I can't hurt him. No back tech. Spaniel's legally dead. All you can do to a dead man is careful. Please. Please, Alma, you're not seeing this right. I'm gonna have a better chance than you. You couldn't see Spaniel. You couldn't see your way back to help Joe out. He look good. On your knees now. Go by the table. Leave that acid alone, sweetheart. I'm gonna help him see. With a whole panful of it. I want to help you see Spaniel. Please. Please. Helmet. You wouldn't do that. You got the short end of the best. Yeah, you better look at him, Jocko. Don't bother. Unless you're a baby doctor. We may need you, lady. Not for this, copper. Remember, Turk, Spaniel's dead. Detroit says so. He looks alive now. He can't be dead there. Alive. Here. I like your climate, but it's not that good. You can't see me, Turk, but I'll bet you can hear me walk out of here. Goodbye, Turk. I'll send you a cane. Well, Hellman managed to to get most of the story out of Turk Spaniel. Reuben Calloway stumbled into the whole thing and he didn't know what hit him. He went over to Oakland to take some pictures of the fire. And he got a picture of Spaniel in the crowd. Spaniel saw him and trailed him over to this side. He had to get the pictures because back in Detroit he'd framed Joe Biggs with a riddled up body and skipped out of the country. He'd been away until a few weeks ago. And now he was waiting for a boat out of San Francisco. So he had to stay dead. He sent George Leggett after the pictures, but Leggett figured it was a good way to double cross him and stay in the clear. So he tipped off Alma Biggs, who'd come out here on a lead a few weeks before. Turk finally tumbled with a local gunsley, killed Callaway and left Leggett in my apartment where he trailed him. It almost worked out, but he didn't get to that shop in time. Well, Hellman asked only one question when I first met her. Did I know Alma Biggs? Was that hard? No. In that satin evening gown? I didn't think so. The Armed Forces Radio Service has just brought you Pat Novak for Hire, starring Jack Webb. Pat Novak is produced by William P. Russo. Jocko Madigan is played by Tudor Owen. Inspector Hellman is played by Raymond Burr. Music was composed and conducted by Basil Adlam. Be with us again next week when over most of these same stations we'll bring you Pat Novak for Hire. Novak for Hire was previously released by abc, the American Broadcasting Company, for listeners in the United States and rebroadcast for our men and women overseas. This is the United States Armed Forces Radio Service, the voice of information and education.