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Welcome back to case closed. One hour of Old Time Radio Crime every Wednesday at relicradio.com. our first story comes from Matthew Slade, Private Investigator. We'll hear the Secret gray man from October 25, 1964. After that, it's Barry Craig, Confidential Investigator and the Schemers. That story aired April 6, 1954. From Hollywood. Welcome to Starlight Mystery Theater and another episode in the series. Matthew Slade, Private Investigator. We invite you to take your seat as Matthew Slade unfolds the Secret Gray Man. In my job, the hours are odd. So are the circumstances and the people I meet. You could even call some of them dangerous. My calling card reads, matthew Slade, private investigator. Time, 12:00am Place, my apartment. The lights were low, soft music playing. Flames from the fireplace reflected in two brandy glasses. The setting was perfect, the company divine, Matthew, simply divine. The apartment is so soothing. All right. Wasn't that the doorbell? Yes. Well, are you expecting anyone? Only my grandmother. She drops by every evening with a fresh case of root beer. Matt Lane? Yeah. Right. This delivery letter. Sign here, please. Thank you. Who's it from? Granny? Yeah. Yeah, in a way. Business, Mr. Spade. Business. I am sympathetic, understanding and willing to make sacrifices for a rain trek. Good night. I'll let myself out. The letter was from Gray Durant, and it was in code. I'd met the secret Gray man. Durant's tag and cloak and dagger circles in Korea. Gray was G2, one of four men assigned to top secret work. The code was born there, worked out one night before Gray Eye and two other men, Sanderson and Rogers, went across the lines. It was involved and was a one for all agreement. One of those things that men do when they know they're going to die. The slender thread to luck. Sanderson and Rogers were killed. Gray and I had never invoked the agreement until now. I burned the note, threw my toothbrush and an extra cylinder of cartridges into a suitcase and headed for my car. I drove along the coast toward Morro Bay. Gray lived in what he called his castle. The place overlooked the bay and seemed carved out of the cliff. The huge rock in the ocean or obeys landmark was more noticeable and more accessible. Gray was still cloak and dagger. If the letter meant what I thought it did, he could be dead. A filling station loomed ahead on the highway. I wheeled the Continental under the pump area. Yes, sir? That shell filler up? Yeah, yeah. You got a phone? A telephone booth? Wrong side. Thanks. Second step in the agreement. Contact before approaching. Contact. Customary precaution. Gray. Who is this? Matt Slade. I got the letter. Are you in trouble? I may be now. I didn't send it. Sanderson or Rogers. Dead. Matt. Remember? Someone else. A nice setup for a kill. Don't sweat it, man. I've been so busy playing Superman, I didn't notice. Gray. Where should we meet? Is it a trap for my killer? Well, I can set it up alone. It was my goof. We'll go together. There's a hotel called the Glass House on Laurel Bay. Register. I'm known in the Village, so we'll take into the handy dandy disguise kit code. Contact will be Marcy. Marcy. The Glass House. Isn't there something about people who live on rocks shouldn't build glass houses? I hope not, Gray. I hope not. I walked back to the car. Man was standing beside appearing inside. He was back east, New York type, sharply dressed. I tightened inside. This your car? Yeah. Got one just like it over there. Pointed toward what could have been the Continental's twin, except his had a blonde inside. My wife. Honey, this. Mr. Slade. I read your registration. My name's Herbert Edwards Herby. Do you have to talk to every Tom, Dick and Harry on the highway? Nice talking to you, Slate. I headed toward Morro Bay, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. No one was following me. At least no one that I could spot. I reached the Glass House. It's three stories, a thousand eyes blinking at the sea. I registered, took the elevator up. The room looked all right, wasn't bugged. So my unknown killer was behind me somewhere. I finished a pack of cigarettes and decided to get some sleep. Morning came, but not too soon. I dressed, went downstairs to the desk. No, no Mr. Slade, no messages. You came in late last night, I see. Oh, Are we having brunch at the pool this morning? Is that the custom? Oh, yes, indeed. The sea air is so appetizing. Yes, well, we'll have brunch at the pool. The pool is on your right. Oh. Don't walk through the glass doors. That can be nasty. Finding the pool was no problem. I remembered not to walk through the glass doors. I edged over legs and arms and various degrees of sunburn, looking for someone who might resemble gray. People in bathing suits resemble other people, never themselves. A waiter appeared, ushered me to a table near the diving board where a group of teenagers were playing water tag. He took my order. By the time my scrambled eggs arrived, I was soaked in the skin. A waiter. Could you find me a table a little further back from the pool? Yes, sir. Don't move. I was just getting up enough courage to speak to you. Her voice indicated that she was gorgeous. I turned for a good book. She was. Well, I could see over. I belong to the Cotton States Journal over there. She indicated a seersucker suit. The character in it smiled blearily, raised his scotch in a passing bikini. But he likes me to be friendly. I couldn't catch all she said because I noticed a charm bracelet with Marcy in chunk sized letters. I'm very friendly too. That's wonderful. What's wrong? You got a cramp? She nodded and slowly disappeared into the water. And I went in after her. Girl is wrong. Okay, now, you're all right. I've got you. Here, let me help you. She's all right now. She's all right. Hold on. Just let her go. She's all right. Let me help. Hey, slave. It's Edward. Old Herbie. Edward? Yeah. Well, will you let go of her, please? Sure, sure. Hey, imagine running into you over here. Yeah, well, I. Just let me get her up the steps, will you? All right. Okay, okay. I'll put her over there. Keep back, folks. Herbie, do you have to get involved in everything? What in the world is going on here? Somebody tried to drown my little gal. It was Gray, Southern accent, pot belly and beard. She almost drowned. Gladiator saved her. Well, miss. Mr. Slade, I surely do thank you. Now I want to repay you. Big Charlie Winston. Don't let things just go back. Now, if you folks will let us through. Gray. Marcy and I sloshed our way through the lobby. It took 20 minutes to change clothes and get the gray suite. I knocked, Marcy opened the door, grinned at me and then locked it after I entered. You didn't spot me? That's quite a get up you're wearing, Big Charlie. Anyone tried to contact him? No, no, but Edwards thought he might. Edwards, the other clown in the pool was trying to save. Now, the one. I ran into Edwards and his wife on the way down here. Ever seen him before? Or her? No. I can't tie them in anywhere. But there's. There's a possibility. Let's just leave us out on a limb. Mr. Or Ms. Unknown knows about the agreement. How? We will figure out later. But they know. They know about the call. So around 5:30, see what gives for the cocktail crowd. I slid onto a seat in the bar and glanced around. The terrace dining room was crowded. There were a few couples on the dance floor. None looked in a killing mood or even interesting until. Martinis aren't really unhealthy, are they? I mean, I'm not likely to get something horrible If I keep drinking. Remember, she was young and beautiful and maybe lonesome, which I doubted. Maybe something else, like developing an allergy to olives or something. That depends. How many have you had? 4. This place is pretty dull. It should start to liven up soon. Oh, it has. I'm Lisa. Albert. So are you. Matt's lead. What do you do, Matt? I'm a private investigator. Are you private investigating now? No. Vacation. You vacation from here to LA to Mexico City to Honolulu. Poor little rich girl. Poor little, poor girl. Secretary from Sacramento who saved her money for or one big kick. One big husband hunting expedition. Want to marry me now or later? Would you like to dance, coward? I'd love to. Lisa felt good, perhaps too good. In my arms. She danced well, easily. Over her shoulder, I saw Gray and his Captain Andy disguise come in with Marcy. He looked about the bar, then headed for the terrace, Marcy following. Then he spotted us on the dance floor, started toward us. I could feel Lisa's back muscles tighten briefly, then. Well, now, Mr. Sling. You're doing all right by yourself, son. I thought you were a stranger here. Introduce me to the lovely little lady. Lisa Albers. This is Marcy and Big Charlie, Winston and Mighty. Please. Now you stop stepping on her pretty feet, Slade. And both of you come and join us for dinner. Gray led the way to a table. One which gave him a full view of the dining area and the bar. And ordered for all of us. Proceeded to charm Lisa out of her life story. She had reached the age of 18 when we were interrupted by Wade Herbie Edwards. You remember. Honey. Don't get up. I just wanted to say how much I admired what you did this afternoon and buy a drink for all of you. Everybody likes a hero. Sit down, Edward. Now, honey, you, you. You sit over here. Gray was playing his role to the hilt, but he was suspicious of Edwards. So was I. Gray and Edwards babbled on with Gray leading the conversation. Marcy tried talking to Honey, but Honey just didn't like to talk. Lisa was quiet. I glanced at her. She seemed to be no more than what she had said then. Listen, everybody. I would like to contribute something. I know a crazy little place called the Cave. Very avant garde. I invite all of you to be my guest. On a secretary's salary. Please. That's the best little old idea I've heard all evening. Come on, let's go. Carlo, Hervey and Honey in. We'll take my car. Why don't we take Matt's car? You do have one, don't you? Lisa raised her Eyebrows at old Herbie, who would have had trouble finding his car, much less driving it. I nodded to her and we trooped toward the parking lot. As we reached it. Oh, Don, wait for me, please. I forgot something. What is it? I'll go. No, no. It'll only take a minute. Just pull the car under the front. Lisa ran back inside the hotel as we piled into my car and then discovered that my keys were in the suit I had so hastily shed. I started to go back for them, but Edwards protested. We'll take my car and I'll drive. I'm not that drunk. Old friends. Edwards got out and headed for his car, which was about 50ft away. You can count on old Herbie. The front of Edward's car disappeared in smoke. Stunned, we all ran toward the car. I reached the car, dragged Edwards clear. He was badly hurt, but still alive. An ambulance took Herbie away. Honey, with him. What happened to Lisa, Gray? Matt? I don't know. Surely she heard the explosion, the sirens, and she didn't come back. She didn't intend to come back. Lisa isn't the one behind it. There's someone else. There's one point you masterminds are forgetting. Edwards car had the bomb not met. Cars looked alike. Was it a mistake? A killer wouldn't make a mistake. Unless Lisa wanted him to. Come on, Matt. What are you selling? She wanted us to take my car, remember? Not Edwards. And she thought we were. Look at my registration. Gray Herbert Edwards, 624 Willowbrook. She switched. I stopped to ask. The desk clerk of Lisa Albers had checked out. Lisa had never checked in. When I reached Gray suite, he was standing at the window with a pair of binoculars. Marcy was curled in the corner of the couch, watching him. Gray handed me the binoculars. Look beyond the rock in the bay. Yeah, okay. Okay. What am I looking for? A yacht. 50 footer, well lighted. About halfway there. Yeah, got it. I don't see anyone on board. She's riding low. Yeah, I can see that bay from my house mat. I keep an eye on ships coming in and out. I know most of them. I don't know that one. The Moonstone. Go on. The moonstone showed up the morning you received the letter. No one came nearer. No one left her until you got my call. Right after you called, a woman left the boat in the dinghy. I think that woman was Lisa. Come on now, Gray. You're reaching. Maybe I want to go out there and find out. Are you game? How do we go? Boat, bus, plane. We drive out to the rock. And then swim. I have scuba suits in the car. You're not going to take Marcy, are you? I'm not going to leave her here for him to find. Come on. Let's go. Gray drove along the road leading to the rock, then parked the car in a deserted section. We donned the frogman suits and slipped into the water. The boat looked far away. I had the underwater torch. Marcy and Gray were ahead of me in the water, their heads bobbing. To an observer, we would appear to be seals. We hoped. As we neared the moonstone, I listened for voices of someone on board. I heard nothing. I followed Gray and Marcy around the bow, silently. Gray beckoned to me, pointed to a spot just above the waterline. I flashed the torch briefly, long enough to see a nice splintered hole man made. The dinghy was gone. I saw a rope dangling, reached for it, scrambled aboard, crouched in the shadows, listening. It was silent. Light streamed from the open cabin door. I went toward it. Gray was right behind me. He had a gun. Mine was tucked easily where I could reach it. I started down the cabin way, a thousand icy spiders crawling down my back. Then I saw her. What is it, Lisa? Lisa. She was crumpled against the bunk, her head angled up. She moved slightly, saw us. Matt. Don't try to move, Lisa. I knelt down, cupped her head in my hands. Her hair was wet, sticky with blood. Gray stood silently, cursing. He thought I was dead. The four of you made an agreement in Korea. No, no, don't. Don't try to talk. One of them is still alive. Yeah. Yeah. Which one? I'm sorry, Matt. I didn't know what he was going to do. It's all right. Lisa will get you off. We'll get you a doctor. Gray helped me lift her. It was very light. Water was rising on the cabin floor. Gray turned to glance around. Leave it. There's nothing here. We've got to get her off. She's dead. Leave her here, Matt. Gray took her from my arms, put her on the bunk. I looked at her, wondering why she had to die like this. Then Gray took my arm, pulled me up the cabin way. Marcy was waiting for us. Automatically, numbly, I followed Gray and Marcy over the side. We swam quickly away, then saw the boat as its lights flickered, went out and the water sucked it down slowly. How could he just. You don't mind if I cry, do you? Now, we all need someone to cry for us sometime. Sanderson or Rogers. But you said they were both dead. You saw them die. No. We saw them hit. We Saw them fall. We thought they were dead. We were all expendable, Marcy, and we knew it. If only one man got back alive. We didn't stop to make sure, Marcy. We couldn't. We reported the missing later. Dead. Now one of them is too late. Alive. Well, we can't check the boat's registry tonight. So we draw him out, right? On the drive back, we outlined a plan. We reached the hotel. I went to my car, checked for superfluous wiring. There was none. Gray, parked across the highway, blinked his headlights once, indicating it see me. I started the car and turned onto the highway. I drove slowly, Gray staying a good half mile behind. Traffic was slow. Several cars passed, but none stayed with me. I reached the turn off to Graze estate. Made the turn, then started up the hill to his private road. I kept watching the rear view mirror. When I was halfway up, I saw headlights make the turn. The gates to the estate were open. Looked back for the lights. They had disappeared. Gray had given me the key to the front door. I had trouble fitting it into the lock then, and I felt someone behind me. What's wrong? The key. Feel it. Graphite. He's already inside. Where's Marcy? Right here. She knows what to do. Go ahead, Matt. Just give me five minutes. Cover Marcy. And Gray became part of the shadows. I put the key in the lock, turned it and entered the house. It was dark, but I knew from Gray's briefing that I was in an entry hall. I crouched. I ran for the drawing room. I straightened and stood just inside the door, waiting. Quite a show, man. What? His Gray call was placed the house of lights. Hold it, buddy. Right there. I swiveled toward the sound of his voice, but he had moved. The cold, empty hole of a revolver was pressed against the back of my neck, so I held it. Now you turn around, son, and you put your hands against that wall. Higher. How many minutes did Gray give you for this rattle dazzle with me? Five. One to go. Sanderson. Oh, baby, what a memory. Yeah, Sanderson, but not so dead, huh? You should have made sure. Yeah, well, this time, Sanderson, baby, you went over the lines, huh? Well, all the goodies, buddy. All that classified info. I. What is that nasty word? I Deserted? No. Defected. You don't approve? No. I didn't think you would. Neither would our big hero, the secret Gray man. You're both too. Why don't you try square? Fits in with your philosophy. What happened? They sending you back on a goodwill tour? Uh huh. They said Sandy baby Ghost spread words of Joy to those poor lost Americans. Yeah. Guess who I saw when I hit Frisco? Old buddy Matt Slade. True blue and honest Injun Slade. And then I learned another old buddy, Gray Durant, was on the coast. My orders, eliminate the Bopsy twins. How'd you find out where Gray lived? Well, I just called the CIA, and as you kidding, we got boys on your side of the street. Lisa. Oh, Lisa. Oh, I moaned for Lisa. She dug the Nathan Hale of Morrow, baby. I'm enjoying his story, Sanderson. But if we're playing Wipeout, let's play. No. We're gonna wait for Daddy Gray, you've been playing bird dog ever since I sent that letter. And for Lisa. She was dumb, man. Dumb. She couldn't spot the Gray man. It wasn't Edwards. Well, at least the Jolly Southern planter. All right, come on out, corn poon, wherever you are. You guessed wrong. Now, you don't lie to me, Matt. I've cased this place, baby. It's full of gimmicks, hidden panels, whole bit. He's right over there. See, boy? See that moonlight shimmin and shining on that painting? We're right behind it. It's a monk's room. A secret room for the secret gray man. And watch me aim for the eyes. Hold it steady, man. I got two hands and two guns. You still alive, gray man? Watch me get old buddy boy here. Suddenly, all hell broke loose. The room came fired with light. I was blinded. So was Sanderson. A shot came from the window, thudded into the wall beside me. I jumped for Sanderson as he turned to fire at the window. I hit him hard. Time for the guns. He hit a stomach with his elbow, slammed me back against a marble coffee table. I twisted aside, but he caught the edge of the table with his chin. That was it. Wearing blazes, were you? Emperor Cassia's temper in the monk's room? I'll be digging plaster out of my face for weeks. Yeah, well, it looks good on you. Sort of Van Gogh effect when Marcy fired that shot, huh? Yeah, she's not much of a shot. She almost got you. So the secret Gray man remained alive and secret Sanderson was happy to talk about his colleagues and their activities, as he said his heart belonged to America. I headed home for San Francisco. As I passed the giant crouching rock in Morro Bay, I thought of Korea and the four men crouching in the giant shadow of death and wondered if the agreement, that slender thread to luck, was not after all, the thread which led to death and to near Death or the secret Gray Man. This is the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service. William Gargan stars as Barry Craig, confidential investigator. The best time to die, folks, is in your own good times. But try arguing with a bullet. The National Broadcasting Company presents William Gargan in another transcribed drama of mystery and adventure with America's number one detective, Barry Craig, confidential investigator Barry Craig speaking. Not every client you get is a socially upright citizen. But then, the only society of angels is up in heaven. Mere mortals are honorable only to a degree, the almighty dollar being what it is. The gentle plump beside me on the fifth Avenue bus didn't look too kosher to me. And it wasn't only because of the scar on his cheek. I know Scarface judges just call it my hunch. I transferred my wallet to the side of the pocket furthest from him. I'm not a dip, friend. Second story. Wrong again. A carnival show with arson as a sideline. Now, don't tell me you're in some honest trade. I am. Now, this is you. Better yourself every day, friend. Begin. Bad and good. That's life. No. No comment. So tell me, you think I sat next to you on purpose? I can tell when a guy does. You got me sized up by now. Not quite. Well, am I hired or no? First, consider what I say. I murdered a man an hour ago. Oh, it's a fine day for it. I shot him, now I've got him in a sack. Busy little bean. I had the best of motives. That ought to reassure the corpse. You're a confidential investigator? Guilty. Your license makes you a technical arm of the law. Sworn to uphold it. You've been reading my wall literature. It's your duty to detain and arrest me. I'm not the obliging type. Sorry. I'm getting off the bus. Getting off? Adios, amigo. Weird. Not so. I got my anonymous friend Spieler right off. Was I really confidential? He wanted to find out. Find out before he dared to hire me. His story was a fake. Done to see if I'd grab him and yell police, I'd be seeing more of him. I got to see him again. In the health club at gymnasium. While I was working out shredding stomach fat in a punch bag, my friend showed up to watch me. Me. Save some of your punch for me, Craig. Yeah. Back with me again, huh? Park on the bench here. We'll talk. Yeah, well, I'm parked, so I'm moody Jip. Moody Jip, huh? Jip means I've got gypsy blood. Oh. You get rid of that corpse. Okay. It's only kidding you. You think you're for me? You don't run blabbing what you hear. So glad I passed your test. Now, what's my job? 200 grand. Stolen from me five years ago. I want to get it back. Explain. Johnny Phoenix stole it from me. Phoenix? Yeah, I. I dimly recall a company treasurer or something. An ex con. I gave a chance to work. Work at what? In my company. Export import. Phoenix robbed my safe in Blue Town and got caught. He was grabbed in Canada, extradited and convicted. I'm a little hazy. Convicted, yeah. But he didn't do time. He didn't. Not in jail. I mean, he acted crazy all through the trial. Kept screaming about gophers and dragonflies and some dead ant. An act? I don't know. He did wear a silver plate in his skull. And a twitch to him that closed one eye every 10 seconds. Anyhow, the judge took notice. Phoenix got a mental test. Dementia something or other. A doctor called it a split personality. Yeah, that Phoenix was not responsible for his actions. He went to an asylum. Riverhead Asylum, Upstate. Comes out tomorrow. Out free? Yeah, it's in the papers. Here. Johnny Phoenix to Judge Sane. Freed on a show cause written. Does he still stand trial for the original theft? No. He isn't the same guy who did the original robbery. So a doctor said. The DA agrees. So does the trial. Judge Phoenix is a new man, cured and rehabilitated. Beat that. The money was never recovered. Not a dime. I'm out. All that big doe. 200 grand. No insurance. I only had a fraction of it insured. Be there at Riverhead when Phoenix gets out. Stay with him. He's got the dough solid away. When he goes for it, you go for him. I'll give you 5%. That's 10 grand if money. If you get my 200 back. I was in the Riverhead railroad station upstate. Right. With Johnny Phoenix. He'd been freed about an hour earlier. I kept out of sight while we waited for the train. A good looking guy, Phoenix. Bushy hair with nature's own Marcella. Spare broad shoulders, a good clothes horse. When he could get properly cogged out. No pallor to his skin. You never know. He'd been confined. Now the train rolled in and I watched Phoenix climb aboard. When I tried to do likewise, I found opposition. One moment, sir. Hey, let go of my arm. My authority bag. I'm Sims of the State Police. In cities I'm off duty. However, you're under arrest. For what? Molestation. A woman complains. Molestation meaning mashing. That's right. Her description of the man fits you. Well, I'd laugh, but right now I haven't got a sense of humor. Getting tough won't help. I'm a policeman myself. I'll show your credentials. Yeah, you do all that at the station house. Are we going through with this, boss? I have authority to shoot a resistor. Put your gun away. I've missed my train anyhow. Well, there's a train every two hours. This train was special. Let's go see your complainant. The complainant looked like she'd had trouble with mashers since pigtail days. Blonde, cream cheeked, born to wear silk. Ma'am, is this the man who annoyed you? No. They have a superficial likeness, but my annoyer was oilier, grosser. And on his chin here, a cleft. Thanks for the exoneration. Doll followed me around the station, talking at me in some strange tongue. Esperanto. Can I go now? Sorry if I caused you any inconvenience. Oh, it was nothing at all. I'm only out a probably lousy 10 grand. Back at the Riverhead station again, waiting for a train out, I tumbled to a masher mistaken identity routine I've been caught up in. I watched for Golden Girl to come back to the station. When she did, I really molested her. Hello, Doll. Dahl. Are you out of your mind? I'm mad over you, Matt. Oh, you really mean mad? I'd like to apologize. Don't bother. Just explain it. My arm cleaned. Your bruise in it. All right, talk. Well, the circumstances are plain here in the station. Before a man, an oily fellow, my size, shape, wearing my clothes. As you told State Trooper Sims, only oily. Your guy, therefore, not me. An honest mistake. Dishonest, baby, what do you mean? The only person molested in this depot today was me. And you engineered it deliberately. Deliberately? Why, that's absurd. To keep me off the train Johnny Phoenix left Riverhead on. I can't understand a word you're saying. You've got me grabbing your arm again, baby. Who are you? I can be gentlemanly. I can be very rough. Well, do we wrestle? All right. I'm Rita Phoenix. Sister or wife? Wife. Our train we'll travel together, baby. Closer than Siamese twins. You made me lose Phoenix. But you're going to help me find him again. You're going to lead me back to Come on trains don't wait. On the train, we sat as close as the law allowed. I took the precaution of searching Rita's handbag. The Ivory handled gun surprised me just a little bit. I want it in a raffle. Does that explain it? Okay if I borrow it? Baby, can I stop you? I want a drink. So do I. Can't I even go to the club car without you? We're inseparable, remember? Boy, can I get a hate on you. Inseparable. Only thing I was wishing allowed. We were going to be separated by no choice of mine happened in the club car while golden girl was watering her tonsils with Smirnoff vodka. Fellow flopped on the lounge beside it. With a beauty like reader available, the dope chose to sit on my side. I knew why in less than a minute. I knew by the gun in my ribs. Do I have to spell it out, Craig? G U N gun. I'm glad you're quick on the think, the feel. Now, this is where you leave Rita Phoenix. You've been hogging her company a long while now. You really expect me to obey? I know what you're thinking. The crowded club car, people all around us, conductors and stewards. But it won't help you, Craig. You'd have to be pretty desperate to shoot. You'd be crazy to tempt me. Dough, Craig. I gruel when I think of the amount of dough at stake. All right, what's your play? That's better. The station up ahead. Sooner Falls. We roll into it exactly 3:47. That's in four minutes. You're getting off the train alone? Yeah, at the station. Someone's waiting for you. Friend of mine. You plan far ahead, huh? I've got a knack for detail. How do I come out in all this? You just lose a client and an opportunity. No other harm done. I lose Rita. Yeah, I lose her and she's your pigeon. Look, let's not stretch this conversation. Three minutes now and we stop. Let's start moving to where you can get off. In Sooner Falls, I watch the train continue on to New York. The someone waiting to greet you is right on hand, as promised. Hiya. Palmer put his face between two loaves of bread and you could call it a giant meat burger. Hey, what are you staring at my kitchen for? It's ugly. Now, is that nice? My car's there. Is this ride necessary? Yeah. Canby set it up. Canby, huh? Oh, did I just leak his name to you? No, no, no, no, no. Canby's an old acquaintance. Oh. What makes this station so lonesome? No, people. Sooner Falls is a hick town. Nobody in it. Why are you in it? For my asthma. I got asthma bad this bug is pollen free. So let's ride now, huh? Where will we ride to? Around. Just around. Yeah, you worry him. Don't this rot on you? Don't mean nothing. No holes in you. So don't worry, huh? My orders is just to stall around with you. See the sights, run you into 6:00 and then give you the hay. Run me into 6:00? Until Rita and Canby land in New York. Get off that train and get lost together. Canby doesn't want me phoning ahead. Hop in, pal. Delighted to. I'd love to tour Soonerfall. Hey, quick off I throat. When your lovely face turns from beet red to morphle, let's let go. Took a long time throttling and when he finally dropped, I fell on his gun. Fell on his gun and just lay there. I left my meat faced friend in a semi conscious stupor and hurried into a pay station. Telephone operator. Get me long distance. New York City Police Headquarters. Person to person, reverse charges. I want to talk to Lieutenant Trav Rogers. Finally, at long last, I arrived in New York. I'd sure missed a lot of trains. Trav Rogers had come through for me at his end. The man and woman you described on the telephone got off the train here in New York. They went off in separate directions. You had them shadowed? I did. Where'd they go to? The ladies registered the Park Front Hotel as Rita Manning. A phony name. She's Rita Phoenix. How about Candy? He checked in at the Kilgore Hotel. Kilgore? New name to me. Over in Brooklyn Heights. Oh, Rita. The Park Front Hotel can be the Kilgore. Anything else you can enlighten me on? I think so. That story of Johnny Phoenix you told me over the long distance phone. The original theft from your client, Gyp Moody. The subsequent trial of Phoenix, his insane behavior in court and the resultant confinement in an asylum, et cetera and so forth. What can you add to it? I found a discrepancy in your tale. What? The alleged $200,000 Phoenix stole. Alleged? In my review of the record of the case, no such sum. Phoenix was booked and tried for the theft of exactly $50,000. For a fact? I have a duplicate of the District Attorney's file if you'd care to see it. I'll take your word. Quite a gap between 200,000 and 50,000. A gap that can buy beaucoup cherries for the wine. Your client magnified the figure to fire your zeal as a retriever. No, Moody's queer, but not like that. His 200,000 figure has some other significance. What? I can't know until I put the question to Modi. Phoenix never disgorged any of the loose. Not a copic. What did the police do about it? About trying to recover the money from Phoenix? I mean, all the usual devices and pressures. All we accomplished was a show put on by Phoenix. He acted nuts, climbed the walls screaming. He was a chimpanzee in a jungle. After Phoenix's asylum confinement, what police activity about the money was there? The obvious. A police plant right on the asylum, hoping to catch Phoenix in a rational moment, Win Phoenix's confidence. Yeah, quite an assignment for a cop feigning insanity. We had to change our plants every 10 days. The sheer wear and tear. The plant began to wonder about himself. Huh. Was he or wasn't he Napoleon Bonaparte? Environment, they say, molds the personality trail. As usual, you've been a big help. Mm. Write a letter of commendation to my superiors. My client. Moody didn't exactly like explaining the discrepancy between 50,000 and 200,000. 200,000 was stolen from me. You're still avoiding my question, Moody. I want to know. Why did you only charge Phoenix with stealing a measly 50,000 in your original police complaint? I had private reasons. Now, if I'm to come through for you, I can't be in the dock. Well, the bulk of the money was a sum I couldn't afford to broadcast publicly. Whatever that means. You're in export import, huh? Yeah, export import. Export import is a pretty broad heading. It could cover a lot of operations above board and underhanded. Legitimate goods and contraband of some kind. Let it go at that. Cash deals in the dark, no record of it on the books. Stop making out a case. Fraud against the government, tax evasion. Keep it up, we'll have a parting of the ways. I'm not on trial with you, Craig. I like to know the character of my client. I'm honest. And dishonest. What's so unusual about that? Every second guy you meet. Yeah, yeah. The buck for its own sake. No wonder the old world's in a spin. Phoenix took advantage of my sensitive situation. He knew in advance you could never prosecute him for the whole sum of money stole that you couldn't come into the courts with clean hands. Yeah, that was Phoenix's gimmick. You gonna use any of this against me? Ask me that when we're counting your 200,000. Now, what? Answers. Oh, I get it. When you're counting your 5% fee, you mean? Sure. You like money like everybody else. Now tell me something. Who is Candy? I don't know. Never heard the name. An alias maybe. Now you recognize this description? Well built, little on the short side, 5ft 7, say. Brown hair, brown eyes, natty dresser. The description means absolutely nothing to me. That's funny. Here's a guy who knows you well enough to be scrambling for your money. Well, it's a mystery to me. Leave a side of beef exposed and the jackals come around. Jackals and jackasses. Okay, I'll circulate around Craig. What? The way you cross examined me before. Like a cop. Not a confidential operator on my payroll. So don't double cross me or I'm not stupid and I'm not helpless. Put it on the line, Modi. Be a cop with me. After all, I'll kill you. I'm sure you could. Well? Well what? Reassure me that you're still confidential. I did that. I'd only be lying. Meaning? I'm not working for you anymore. You're off the case. I didn't say that. Then it is a double cross. Clean hand. I only like clients with clean hands. So long, Moody. Greg, stay out of my business. Your kind of business, Moody, is public business. Oh, they happen. Like that case where you dump a client midstream. Where from confidential cop, you change to boy scout. You're working without fee in the public wheel and welfare. Great. Only doesn't buy any groceries at the Kilgore Hotel over in Brooklyn Heights. I got Canby's room number from the desk corner. I also got an advance hint on how frantic it could get up in Canby's room. I spied the desk clerk on the telephone a second after I started for the staircase. The desk clerk tipping Canby off to my visit. There'd be a gun upstairs waiting to greet me. What kind of a hotel was it? It was that kind of a hotel. In the hall outside Canby's room, I had a screen scheme to outmaneuver Candy's gun. Canby? Frank Canby? Yeah, what is it? Linen service. I got your fresh linen. Yes, ma'am. I flattened against the sidewall of the hall out of line of fire and waited for Canby to open the door, come right in. My turn to shoot now in his room. Can be revived before the police ambulance I'd phoned for showed up. You think fast, Craig. I have to, to keep alive. How bad? Ty won't. I only shot to immobilize you. Very considerate. We'll live for newer and bigger swindles. When you're free again, that is. You've got no charge against me. The Sullivan Law, that gun you carry and armed assault on me. Going to pour it on, huh? Depends maybe on how you cooperate. Cooperate how? Prank talk. Ask me, where do you come in on Moody's missing 200,000? I forced myself in. Meaning? Well, I'm out of left field. I don't know Moody and I don't know Phoenix. But I do know about the dough. You understand me? I think so. You freelance in crime. You're a fly, honey. Anywhere draws you. That's it? Yes. Got a prison record so far? No. Been lucky, huh? Until you, who tried to detain me for you in Sooner Falls. Hutch. Who is he? The next pug blackballed out of boxing for throwing fights. He hires out to me. You get away from him, huh? I out wrestled him. I was afraid of that. Afraid you'd get the phone ahead to New York. Hutch is a pin brain. You hired him. You should have knocked me off on that train. Yeah, I second guess it that way, too. Only murder. I shy away from it. You shot at me out in the hall. I shot to nick you, slow you up. Well, what are we waiting for? Police, ambulance. Snake eyes for you, Canby. You're out of the game. Pass the dice with can be out of the game. I set out to eliminate another player. Lita. I found her in the dining room of the Park Front Hotel. She didn't bat an eyelash when I joined her at the table. Like she was immune to surprise. You? Hmm? Me. Oh. What's good? Chicken fricassee. What's new? Canby's in the clink. Thanks. For what? Removing candy. He's been giving me a bad time asking you where he can find Johnny Phoenix. Asking me where can I find Johnny Phoenix? I'm deaf, stupid. Maybe you're crazy if you keep dreaming of that money. I've stopped dreaming. Meaning? My husband gave me the brush. Johnny wants a divorce. What does Johnny say about the hidden loot? Not a word to me. What do you say about the loot? Meaning us? No deal. I get the money, I kiss it once, then hand it over to the authorities to be held in escrow for Jip Moody. Now where do I find Johnny Phoenix? Expect me to tell you? You might. Seeing Johnny's read you out of his life. 742 Bond Street. A rooming house. Johnny's holed up there. When you surprise him, tell him you're there by courtesy of Rita. Rita? Without love. At 742 Bond Street I finally got back with Johnny Phoenix. Funny thing, though. Phoenix didn't seem to care a bit. The money, Craig, I. I don't want it. Because keeping it is too hard. No, the fellow who stole it. I'm no longer him. I've had therapy. I've got a different focus now. Whole new plan for living. You sound like a walking testimonial for prison psychiatry. I feel lighter. I don't walk. I bounce. You know what I've done these two days? I've been free. What? Read books. Gone to church. Looked through the one. Ad hooray for the new man. So where's the dough? Hidden. Buried in an empty lot in Long Island. Town named Fullerton, where I grew up as a kid. I'll drive you there. Let's go in. Fullerton, we ran into a surprise. No empty lot. I. I don't recognize the setting. You've been away five years. Just what's different? What? You see the house standing there? That Cape Cod. You say the house there was built on the empty lot you buried the money in? Yeah, the exact spot. There are markers around. I recognize that. That clump of trees there. I counted 20 pages north and two pages east. Then I buried the money. That would put the money smack in the middle of the foundation of the house. What do we do now? How deep did you dig five years ago? Six feet. In building the house, an excavation of at least 12ft was made. Meaning the money was exposed to their builder. Meaning. You wait here. I'm going to make some inquiries inside the house. But what? Possible good inquiries inside the house. Inquiries around Fullerton generally. Then some research into police files. I'm curious as to why a house was built on that exact spot. Badly chosen location in a lowland where rains create a swampland. And with the nearest town neighbor east, west, north and south at least 200 yards away. Wait here. Phoenix. I made my inquiries, nosed around, did my research. The following day I dropped in to see Trev Rogers to tell him who to go arrest. I'm to arrest a homeowner in a town on Long island called Fullerton? That's right. A homeowner named Cy Canaday. Cy Canaday. Alias Joe Caliph. The name falls on deaf ears, huh? Should I know it? A cop should. I could send you pouring through police files on Johnny Phoenix. Spare me the toil. Police headquarters assigned stool pigeons and plants to the asylum Phoenix was confined in. Yes, I have the names of the miscellaneous and sundry plants and stoolies here. Abram Tyler, Wilson Mackenzie. Caliph. Is it beginning to dawn? Yes, Caliph. Joe Caliph. A professional stool pigeon the department employed years ago. A stool pigeon who spent time in a prison asylum. Johnny Phoenix. Time enough to pump Phoenix and get himself a road map to a bonanza. Double cross the police department. You always take that chance when you engage two pigeons at the calculated risk. Calif. Dug up the money in Fullerton, then had a contractor build him a house right over the exact spot for him. A weird device kind of the house Calyph's calculated width to make the quest for the money look hopeless. Money was lost to the irony in a housing excavation. He never thought anybody would be shrewd enough to look behind his alias of Canada, respectable homeowner and family man at this late date. But you did. I might not have all the time I was making inquiries. I was sure I was wasting time. Cases, Trav sometimes hang on that slimmer thread. So make the arrest. You have been listening to William Gargan in another exciting transcribed mystery drama from the adventures of Barry Craig, Confidential Investigator. Tonight's story, the Schemers was written by John Robert. Next week it's the strange story titled the man who Wanted to Be Guilty, about which Barry Craig has this to say. What did the man want to be guilty of? Murder, of course. And he discovered that all you had to do to accomplish that was to kill someone. But he had a little trouble. Listen and find out about it, huh? Good night, folks. See you next week. The National Broadcasting Company has just brought you William Gargan starring as Barry Craig, Confidential Investigator. Featured in the role of Rita was Terry Keane. Don Pardo speaking. It's another exciting Dragnet adventure tonight on the NBC Radio Network. There's more from Matthew Slade, Barry Craig, Case Closed and all of the other Relic radio shows@ Relicradio.com there's also a shoutcast stream with even more old time radio streaming 24 hours a day, seven days a week and a donate button if you'd like to help support that and all of the shows. Thanks to those who have helped out. Thanks for joining me this week. Be back again next Wednesday with another hour of Case Closed.