Narrator (0:11)

This is Case Closed Crime stories from the golden age of radio. The Adventures of Sam Spade Detective. Brought to you by Wild Root Cream Oil Hair Tonic, the non alcoholic hair tonic that contains lanolin. Wild Root Cream Oil Again and again, the choice of men who put good grooming first. Sam's Bay Detective Agency. Listen, you phone down to the drugstore and tell them to send up 3 gallons of black coffee. Who is this? Are you sure you have the right number? I'm sure I've got the right number, but I'm not so sure who I am. Oh, see, Sam, it's you. You must have had a frog in your throat. Did you oversleep? Effie, don't say things like that. Oh, I'm sorry, Sam. Oh, you poor dear. You've been working. You're tired. That's it, tired. I've only just brought Lazarus back from the dead. Well, then you better get some rest, Sam. You can dictate your report tomorrow. That's what you think. Now stay where you are. If I'm asleep when I get there, wake me up. I'll be right down to dictate my report on the Lazarus Cabernet. Dashiell Hammett, America's leading detective fiction writer and creator of Sam Spade, the Hard Boiled Private Eye, and William Spear, radio's outstanding producer director of mystery and crime Drama, join their talents to make your hair stand on end with the Adventures of Sam Spades presented by the makers of Wild Root Cream Oil for the hair. Next time you buy hair tonic, be sure you buy Wild Root Cream Oil. For you see, Wild Root Cream Oil gives you these advantages. It grooms your hair neatly and naturally relieves annoying dryness, removes loose, ugly dandruff. Wild Root Cream Oil is non alcoholic and contains soothing lanolin. So much like the natural oil of your skin. Yes, friends, next time you buy hair tonic, look for that famous name, Wildroot. Get Wild Root Cream Oil Hair Tonic again and again, the choice of men who put good grooming first. And now, with Howard Duff starring as Spade, Wild Root brings to the air the greatest private detective of them all in the Adventures of Sam Spade. Effie? In here, Sam. In your private office. Private, she says. I like to know what's private about it. I have everything ready for you, Sam. What's this? Ovaltine. To relax. I don't want to relax. I don't dare. Oh, there you go again, Sam. Going on nerves. How long do you think you can keep it off? With your help, I'll be in a coma inside three minutes. Thank You, Sam. Now you just lie down here on the couch and I'll take your shoes off. Now look. And I can take dictation while you relax. Nuts. Where's that black coffee? Sam, you're angry with me. Your eyes. Please don't glare at me like that, Sam. I can't bear it when you. I am not glaring. I'm trying to keep them open. Now sit down. I gotta keep moving around. Moving around. Drive yourself like this, Sam. Please. Effie, please. Date. Fill it in. Well, it's your life. Go on. Burn yourself at both ends. Let's see, two. A.J. tatspaw, claims manager, All Risk Insurance Company, Tide Building, San Francisco. From Samuel Spade, license number 1375. Dear sir, the following is an accounting of my services to your company in connection with the claim of Emma R. Lazarus and the life of the assured Timothy R. Lazarus. The latter called at my office yesterday at approximately 11:30am he was tall, bald, gray faced and dusty. He looked as if he had been buried and dug up several times. This. This may sound like a sort of jest, Mr. Spade, but my name is Lazarus and I want you to bring me back from the dead. Wow. Sounds interesting. Why did you die? When did you die? And how did you die? I was declared dead by the appellate court of the State of California, August 28th last year by reason of 7 years absence. Who took it to court? My wife, Emma. Insurance? Yes. My wife and I agreed between ourselves to ensure my life and the amount of $100,000 that she would collect on legal presumption of death after my disappearance and continued absence for seven years. That's the law, Mr. Spade. Yeah, it's been tried a lot of times. What went wrong in your case? Wife double cross you? If that's your attitude, I'm afraid I've come to the wrong man. Uh huh. You're still in love with her. Well, that makes it tough. You know they'll nail her for perjury if you prove you're still alive. That's why I didn't go to the police. Even though we'd planned the deception together. She had reason to believe that I was actually dead. Suppose you cover the whole thing from the beginning, Mr. Lazarus. Yes, I married her back in 1940. And for a while we were happy. And then she became restless. You mean you were not able to support her in the manner to which she was accustomed? She was young, lovely. You wanted her to have nice things, but on your meager salary it was impossible. I know it's an old story, but life Is like that. Well, you said it. Well, there you are. I was assistant cashier at the Golden Gate Bank. Oh, no, not that. I started taking small sums at first, meaning to repay them later on. Look, let's not go through the whole script. How much did you embezzle? $20,000. Yeah. So you decided to take it on the lamb before the auditors came in. And I was going to give myself up, but Emma wouldn't let me. We made our plans that night, and I left for Mexico the following day. In Mexico City, I had plastic surgery done on my face. And then I settled down to wait the seven long years until I would be declared legally dead. I suppose you might call it poetic justice. But just before the end of the seventh year, I contracted malaria, was confined to a hospital for more than 11 months. You have had it. The doctors gave me up for dead and asked me to notify my next of kin. I gave them Emma's address. I never notified her to the contrary because it seemed to fit in so well with our plan. Too well, huh? Yes. I'd been to see her and she refuses to believe that I am her husband. Of course, my appearance is very much altered. But there must be some way to prove my identity. You worked in a bank. They must have taken your fingerprints. I removed them from the files and destroyed them. How are your teeth? My. My teeth? Teeth. Who was your dentist here in town? Oh, oh, oh, Dr. Smith. The Drake Professional Building. You'll still have your dental X rays on file. They're as good as fingerprints. You go there this afternoon, don't give your name, tell them you're Mark Humboldt. Have a new set of X rays taken, and I'll do the rest. What's your wife doing these days? By Emma. Emma's married again. Who's the sucker? Pardon me? The man. Oh, He's a doctor. Dr. Ernst Wilhelm. Wilhelm. He's quite well known, I believe. Yeah, and the cops would like to know more. Now about my fee. Oh, Mr. Spade, I have no money. Oh, that's great. You have no money and all you want is to hire a man to bring you back from the debt. And the more I succeed, the less chance I'll have of collecting. If I might make a suggestion, Mr. Spade, I don't know the ethics, but perhaps the insurance company. You would be doing them a great service. Mm. Mm. I think you're gonna live, Mr. Lazarus. They can't keep a good man down. I'll collect from them. I knew there wasn't a chance in a hundred thousand of Shaking a fee out of your company. After all, you have your own investigators in the payroll and contract work isn't deductible under the new tax law. But something about Lazarus had gotten to me. Something else about him got to me at the Blue Bottle Bar and Grill where I stopped for lunch. Mr. Spade? Yes, indeed. I'm Emma Wilhelm, Mr. Spade. Emma Lazarus Wilhelm. I see you do know who I am. May I sit down? Slide in, Mrs. Wilhelm. Thank you. I'm glad to know you had a sense of humor, Mr. Spade. It's about that man. Of course. Surely you didn't believe a word of his story. Which word? Oh, I'll admit there are slight traces of the truth in his raving. My first husband, Timothy Lazarus, was an embezzler. He did disappear. And it's quite true that I have collected the insurance on his life. I might even believe that Tim is still alive. But that man is not he. Then what are you so upset about? Oh, it's perfectly obvious what he wants. He's an extortionist. You're wrong. He doesn't want money, Mrs. Wilhelm. He wants you. Oh, Mr. Spade, how much do you know about my husband? Which one? Don't be flippant. Dr. Ernest Wilhelm. He made his first million planning lead nuggets out of gang war casualties and lost it on the stock market. He cut his second million out of Nob Hill and called it surgery. He lost that on horses, blinds and malpractice suits. The last time he was mentioned in the paper, there was a big picture of him pumping sleeping pills out of the stomach of an aging burlesque queen. It may or may not have been coincidence that she did not recover and that she was the ex girlfriend of one of our better known racetrack haberdashers. And if he got a hundred bucks for the job he was paid off in. Boo. Please don't say anymore. That poor girl. And she'll do the same thing to me. Well, if you persist in helping that imposter, you'll be responsible for whatever happens to me or anyone else you involve. Mm. Anything else I should know? Yes. Both you and your client are being watched and followed. You can't escape him. He's not quite the has been you'd like to think he is. After she had gone, I scraped the tears off my butter, finished my lunch, washed my hands with a nationally advertised soap, and mushed over to the Drake Professional Building. I found my client's dentist and his lab polishing up a set of gold inlays. Humboldt. Oh, yes. Yes, His X rays have come through. Only set today. They're on the clamper. Don't touch them. They're not dry yet. Oh, I'm sorry. What's your interest? Police identification? You guessed it. Always happy to cooperate. Thanks. How about digging in your files for the X rays on a patient named Lazarus? Oh, yes, be glad to. Of course. Well, let's see now. Larrabee, Lavelle, Lawrence Lawson, Glesky. That's G. What's that doing here? Ah, Lazarus, Timothy R. Is that your man? That's the name. April 1940. Should have been in for dental hygiene. Have to remind Ms. Baker. That's my nurse. These pictures, how do they compare with this new set? Well, now, let's have a look. Switch on the light there, will you, please? And let's see. Malocclusion impacted third and motor. Ah, erosion inlay. This is very interesting. You mean they're the same in both sets of pictures? Oh, dear, no. A man's mouth could change a lot in seven years. Oh, yes, especially with dental neglect. But that would never cause a man to grow new teeth. Oh, well, you see here. Humboldt has one more Laura incisor and two more molars in Lazarus. And the whole character of the mouth is different. These two men would not look even faintly alike. Well, could there have been some mistake in filing? Oh, dear, no. Ms. Baker's been with me for 10 years. Never made a mistake yet. Can I talk to her? Not in today. Been out since Tuesday. Cold. By the way, you're a detective. How's this for a mystery? She phoned me this morning and thanked me for sending a doctor around to examine her. Now, this is the peculiar part. I have no recollection of having done so, and I am not acquainted with the doctor she said I sent her. That wouldn't be a Dr. Ernst Wilhelm? Why, yes, Wilhelm. That was the name. Do her another favor, will you? Call a doctor you do know and tell him to get over there as fast as he can. Come on, come on, open up. Get your shirt on. I'm gonna come in as fast as I can. What you want, kiddo? Which is Miss Baker's room? She's sick. Ain't heaven. No callers. I'm her doctor. Oh, you can't fool me. Where's your little black bang? If I had one, it would be around your neck. Now march. Show me the way. You can't force me. I know my rights. Oh, you do, do you? Well, it might interest you now that your vents are faulty, your wiring is illegal. Your drains are unsanitary and your apron is due them rust stains. I am neat as a pin. You're as neat as a mud pie. Now get going before I have the Board of Health down on you. All right, but you can't make me climb them stairs. Sciatica. I have. Here's a key. Okay. Restoreable, Right. And whatever she's got, I hope you catch it. Thank you. Elsa Maxwell. She was stretched out on a bed, her left arm twisted under and her right dangling over the edge on the floor. Beneath it was an empty pill bottle. A few red capsules were scattered near it and some more were spilled out among the bedclothes. It was a standard sleeping pill suicide scene, but I didn't believe it. The body was still warm, but no pulse. I didn't waste time giving her the mirror test. Instead, I looked around for a phone. It was on a table near a window. I meant to dial the police number, Sutter 12020, but Su was as far as I got. It felt like a bee sting or a quick jab with a needle. I spun around and swung out blindly. The face that I missed was suntanned under a shock of iron gray hair. I was wearing the same white toothed grin that Dr. Ernst Wilhelm always wore for newspaper photographers. I started towards him and he backed away, still grinning. Come ahead, Spade. Come and get me. But hurry. You have only 20 seconds more. Shall I count them off? So far you have 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9. The floor kept dropping a foot at a time as I walked toward him. But every time I got to the bottom of the incline, it tilted up the other way and I slipped back. He kept dropping out of sight and every time I got him back into my line of vision, he was farther away. The walls of the room opened out and disappeared into some clouds. The ceiling spun around faster and faster until it whirled away like one of those flying discs. Then the floor turned into gelatin and I sank into it. The makers of wild root cream oil are presenting the weekly Sunday adventure of Dashiell Hammett's famous private detective, Sam Spade. Now here's important news on good grooming. If you want the well groomed look that helps you get ahead socially and on the job. Listen. Recently, thousands of people from coast to coast who bought wild root cream oil for the first time were asked, how does wild root cream oil compare with the hair tonic you previously used? The results were amazing. Better than four out of five who replied said they preferred wild root cream oil. Remember, non alcoholic wild Root Cream Oil contains lanolin. It grooms the hair naturally, relieves dryness and removes loose, ugly dandruff. So if you want your hair to be more attractive than ever before, get the generous new 25 cent size of wild Root Cream Oil, America's leading hair tonic. On sale at all drug and toilet goods counters. It's also available in larger economy bottles and the handy new tube get Wild Root Cream Oil again and again. The choice of men who put good grooming first. By the way, smart girls use Wild Root Cream Oil, too. And mothers say it's grand for training children's hair. And now back to the Lazarus Caper. Tonight's adventure with Sam Spade. The dream lasted about 300 years. Around Christmas time in the year 2247, another bee stung me. I opened my eyes, but the lights on the tree were too bright and Santa Claus was bending over me with a brandy breath. Come on, man. Come on, come on. Little willpower. You're conscious. That's it. That's it. Sensation returning. Here, try and sit up. Another girl. How about her? Too late. Did everything I could. Suicide pact? Well, one of your brothers in Apollo was a little too handy with a needle. Here's the mark in my arm. And you'll find one on that stiff. Those sleeping capsules were a plant to make it look like suicide. You'll be feeling better soon. Now, come along. Up on your feet. Must keep moving. Restore circulation. Hip. Hip, hip. Thanks. Thanks. You. You're the man Dr. Smith called? Yes. So you're a private detective. How do you feel now? Still dopey. You give me something to pick me up? I've given you as much stimulant as it's safe to administer. For the rest, you'll have to sleep it off. And you will. I advise you to hurry home, get into bed before this wears off. How long have I got? A couple of hours if you keep moving. Maybe three. Yeah, but if I were you, I wouldn't stay out. You don't want to fall asleep in the middle of Market street, get run over by a bus. Worst thing that can happen to you in your own bed. Look at her. Murder. You think you can prove it? I don't know. I couldn't. Not on her. And I've been an autopsy surgeon for 20 years. Well, cheer up, Doctor. If you miss on her, you may get a second chance. Huh? Yeah. Me. Those eyes are looking better. I think you'll live. I wasn't so sure. Unless I could nail Wilhelm before my three hours was up. As a Safe bet he'd nail me again with that needle. He had done me one favor. He'd convinced me that my client was really the man he claimed to be and that Wilhelm and Emma knew it. My best hope of smoking him out was to dig out some solid proof. I spent 10 minutes of my three hours getting to the hall of Records and 10 more finding out there was nothing there on Lazarus but his death certificate. I had a gander at the wanted file at police headquarters. They checked him out in August of 47 when the court had pronounced him dead. I looked at my watch. With 2 hours and 17 minutes of wakefulness left, I just didn't have time. I stopped by Lazarus Hotel, got a set of his fingerprints and several samples of his signature, took them to a penman I know down on the Mission, and between us, we forged the most amazing set of documents ever assembled on one man. All dated, notarized, certified, witnessed, registered. One even bore the great seal of the State of California and the signature of the governor. I squeezed them all into a large briefcase, propped my eyes open with toothpicks while I drank half a gallon of black coffee, then phoned Dr. Wilhelm's night number. I told him I was one of Russian Leo's boys and a cop had just winged me on the lamb from a jewelry store job. He agreed to meet me at his office. Hello? Wilhelm? Yes. Is that all you gotta say to the guy you knocked off an hour ago? I'm afraid I don't quite follow. Who are you? Look, I know that you know and you know that I know. They even wrote a song about it. So let's get off the diamond. Don't reach for a needle. This gun is bigger and it shoots farther. Well, I can see you mean business. What do you want? First, I want to show you a few things. Here. Take a look. Well, this is very impressive. Yeah, I thought you'd be impressed. You need any more proof that Lazarus is Lazarus? What's the matter, Spade? Getting sleepy? Don't get your hopes up. I can squeeze this trigger in my sleep. Are these papers for safe? Why do you think I brought them to you? What's the price? Half the take on Lazarus insurance. That's very high. I haven't finished. This time Lazarus has got to be really dead and you're going to do the job. Come on, come on. Stop stalling. I can't do that. Why not? Why? Emma. She'll make trouble. She said she would. She's still in love with him. Why do you say that? I just want it what reason did she give you for not wanting him knocked off? Cops work harder at identifying a dead man than they do a live derelict that looks and talks like a crank. I had the same idea myself. Then you're stupid. With him dead, she can tell any story she wants to. With him alive and all this proof of identity, he's in a position to nail both of you for fraud, conspiracy, perjury. Shall I go on? One thing. Does Emma know about these papers? Sure. You're lying. Sure, I'm lying. And those documents are forgeries. If that's the way you want it, I haven't got time to argue. I can't stay awake much longer. And you can't bring it off without me. I'll have Lazarus at my apartment in 30 minutes. Bring your needle and the 50 grand. All right, Spade. I'll be there. I made two phone calls on my way to pick up Lazarus. One to Emma and one to Lieutenant Erlinger of Homicide. Dundee was asleep. Lieutenant and Sergeant Fullhouse were approached on the fire escape outside my window. And Emma was waiting in the living room when we got there. Tim. Oh, my poor, dear darling Emma. You recognize me? Of course, darling, from the beginning. But I didn't dare speak out in front of Ernst. I know. Mr. Spades told me. Now, listen to me, you two. You're sure you can go through with this? Oh, are you sure there's no danger? That's him now. Come on, Lazarus. Get in the bedroom there. I'll do what I told you. Don't worry. Emma. Oh, I'm so frightened. Quiet. Hello, Spade. I got here just. Emma, what are you doing here? Mr. Spade phoned me. I agreed it's the only thing to do. I wanted you to know that. Well, I'm glad to see that you've come to your senses for a while. There, you see? You were wrong. Spade, did you bring the stuff? Here's your money. I have a hypodermic in the case here. It's already loaded. We won't need a sterile needle. Where is he? In there, on the bed. He was asleep a minute ago. The grogginess that had kept coming back over me in waves for the last two hours swirled over me again as Wilhelm leaned over the bed where Lazarus lay stretched out with his eyes closed. For a split second I blanked out and I was afraid it had already happened. Then I saw Wilhelm's hand coming down in the oblique angle toward Lazarus forearm. Then my vision blurred again and my arms felt too heavy to lift. It was Emma's scream. That jolted me back. I clawed out blindly. You let go of it, you get it in your own arm. Let go. Swine. You double crossing. Now, here's a little sleeping medicine for you. Okay, boys, come and get him. Good boy, Sam. Good boy. We won't forget this. Yeah, a likely story. All right. Get that broken glass pole house. Put it in the Dixie cup. I handle it careful. Won't analyze that medicine. Okay. Who are these people, Sam? Accomplices. Yeah, but not for homicide. What about Ernst? They won't let him go free, will they? Don't worry, he's out of circulation for good. Mr. Spade. Yeah. Lazarus. I don't know how to thank you. Yes. You don't know what this means to us. Yes, I do. It probably means another long separation. The state prisons aren't co ed. But if you insist on being alive, you have to take life as it comes. Well. Period. End the bedtime story. Oh, Sam, it's so sad. That poor couple. So much in love. But you had to do your duty, didn't you, Sam? They had to pay their debt to society. Of course. That's why you had to be so hard and unrelenting and not give in to your better nature. That's right. That's right. Never give into the ship. Don't tread on me. It was Hobson's. Hobson's? What was it that Hobson? You may fire when ready, you know best. Time I just go type this up. And now listen to this. A good friend of the family. That's Wild Root Cream Oil Hair tonic, folks. Wild Root Cream Oil grooms the hair neatly and naturally relieves dryness and removes loose dandruff. Now get Wild Root Cream Oil at your drug or toilet goods counter in a new 25 cent get acquainted bottle. Also, ask your barber for a professional application of Wild Root Cream Oil Hair tonic. Again and again, the choice of men who put good grooming. Sam. Sam. Sam, wake up. Go away. Your apron. Study, Sam. I'm not wearing an apron. Then why don't you let me sleep? Sam, you've got to wake up. Your coffee's here. Tell them I'm in conference. No, Sam, no. The black coffee. You said to order three gallons. What? I couldn't carry it all. I'll make another trip. 24 cardboard containers. You'll have to drink it up fast now. They're leaking already. Abandon ship all ye who enter here. Oh, Sam. What am I going to do with it? Open a restaurant. Good night. Oh, good night, Sam. Number three turrets, open fire. The Adventures of Sam Spade, Ashel Hammett's famous private detective, are produced and directed by William Spear. Sam Spade is played by Howard Dove. Laurene Tuttle is Effie. The adventures of Sam Spade are written for radio by Bob Talman and Gil Down. Musical direction by Ludgate, with score composed by Rene Garrigan. Join us again next Sunday when author Dashiell Hammett and producer William Spear join forces for another adventure with Sam Spade. Brought to you by Wild Root Cream Oil. Again and again, the choice of men who put good grooming first. This is Dick Joy reminding you to get Wild Root Cream Oil, Charlie. It keeps your hair in trim. You see, it's non alcoholic, Charlie. It's made with soothing lanolin. You better get Wild Root Cream Oil, Charlie. Start using it today. You'll find that you will have a tough time, Charlie, keeping all our gals away. Hiya, baldy. Get wild, Ruth. Right away. This is cbs, the Columbia Broadcasting System. Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker's road, and those who travel it wind up in the gut of the prison of the grave. This time I tangled with a mad Scotchman, a phony English lord and a beautiful blond corpse in a freight house. All because of a butler who walked on his knuckles. It happened like this. From the pen of Raymond Chandler, outstanding author of crime fiction, comes his most famous character in the Adventures of Philip Marlowe. Now with Gerald Moore starred as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's exciting story, the Monkey's uncle. Hello? Mr. Philip Marlow, please. It's very important. This is Marlow. Oh, thank heavens you're still in your office at this late hour, Mr. Marlowe. I must have your help at once. Cornelius. Life is in danger, man, and time means everything. Now, sir, wait a minute. Wait a minute. Who are you? Who's Cornelius? Where you calling from? And about what? Let's have it a slow step at a time, huh? My name's Wesley McDuff, Mr. Marlow. All right, lead on, McDuff. I'm calling from a telephone booth opposite the Beekman Plaza Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard where Ashley Duke. Ashley who? Going for the Bateman Plaza. Lord Ashley Duke himself across the street. We've got to get to him, Mr. Marlow. Hurry. Meet me in the hotel lobby. Yes, Pitman. We've got to stop them. They're going to kill Cornelius. My first reaction was to forget the whole thing, but curiosity is strong stuff with me. Then he triumvirate labeled Wesley MacDuff, Lord Ashley Duke and Corner. Cornelius had to add up the Screwball. No matter where you started, the word kill was still big in my vocabulary. So I buttoned the office up quickly, got down to my car and drove over to the Beekman Plaza hotel, where a 10 minute stand in the lobby produced nothing closer to worried Scotchman than the plaid covering in a sagging Morris chair. And at the reception desk, there was no Wesley McDuff registered or ever heard of. Sorry, sir. So at that I was ready to call it quits. I turned for the door, but before I got there, I was stopped. The uniform said bellhop, and the sprinkle of freckles plus barn cowlick said all American boy. But the shifty eyes and the narrow mouth that slid over to the side of his face when he talked said something else like racetrack tug. Pardon me, sir, but I happened to overhear you ask after a Scotchman. Wesley McDuff, was it? Yeah. You know where he is? Well, yes and yes. And how much? 10. Five. Okay, sport, five. But let's get out of the traffic, huh? Over here into this map, like I was pointing out something to you. That's a fresh idea. Thanks. The viva. Oh, here. Now, where's MacDuff? On his way to Burbank, dead drunk. You're crazy. I talked to him less than half an hour ago. He was tone sober and a long way from the party mood. Could be. But 15 minutes ago, I helped Lord Ashley Duke pile him into a cab. Wait a minute, wait a minute. Ashley Duke? How does he fit? He found this MacDuff in the alley outside. I was just coming back from dinner when I saw him pick the guy up. He couldn't say a word, but a Blue Shield medical card we found in his Wallet Read Wesley McDuff, 13 Vineland Avenue, Burbank. Boy, he was out. Colder than my old man. Now listen, Junior, here's another five. Tell me in fast, who's Lord Ashley Duke? A nightclub character entertainer. Lives here with his wife, Lady Ashley Duke, when they're in la. Well, this is he legitimate, this Lord business? Nah, nah, but he plays it to the hilt. Why, after we piled that MacDuff into the cab, he dusted his white gloves off, genteel like. Slipped the monocle he wears into his eye and grabbed another cab and shoved. He's a phony. His real name is Bert Dukes and milady is Gert. And on her it shows. What do you mean, shows? That the second she gets behind her door, they got sweet 312. She climbs out of her accent like it was a tight girdle, especially when she and that niece of hers go at it. Yes, sir. The famous Merrimack Caverns are on Route 66 near St. Louis. Oh, good evening, Mr. Fisher. Good evening. Tom Fisher. Okay, where were we? Denise. Denise. Oh, yeah. Quite a doll. Her name's Merle Brimmer. Acts as a business manager, so she must also have brains. Now, tell me, who's Cornelius? Cornelius? Yeah. What's breaking you up? Who is he? Nobody but the star of the act. The lord and lady do a farce thing. A takeoff on English drawing room stuff. And Cornelius plays the butler. Plays it in a derby and a boiled shirt, no less. Why the giggles? You've seen a Derby and Boyle shirt before. Yeah, yeah, sure I have. But on Cornelius, it looks different. You see, mister, He's a chimpanzee. The affair. Cornelius definitely added screwball. But I also knew that prospective client McDuff had been sapped and piled into a cab for good riddance, which could add to less than funny. So I decided I look around a little longer, especially in the vicinity of my lady's chamber, number three twelve. When I stepped out of the elevator on the third floor, an owl faced waiter was just piloting a dinner cart loaded down with dirty dishes out of the room. And when the car juggled out of the corridor rug, it nearly upset a coffee pot, which left the waiter's mind on the juxtaposition of cot and pot and not the door if he left open inches. I waited till he passed me, then I moved up to where I could both see and hear Lady Ashley Duke and her niece Merle exploding at each other through an after dinner conversation. The former was built like an upended blimp with as much charm as a mooring mast. The latter was blond and female spy beautiful. And also she was nonchalantly slipping a shiny.32 automatic from desk draw to purse. Oh, now wait a minute. Before you snap a stage, you listen to me. Why? So you can explain once more how poor Uncle Bird's idiotic mistakes are just bad luck? 10,000 bucks worth of bad luck. Nuts. Burt don't know anything about investments. He shouldn't be allowed to touch a red cent. And my pretty. From here on out, that's exactly the way it's gonna be, believe me. Oh, cut it, Gert, and quit blaming Uncle Bert and me. Are you kidding? Why shouldn't I blame the two of you? He's a jerk. And you, I never wanted you with us in the first place. My niece. Ha. Oh, shut up. And remember, dear Aunt, your husband likes me Around. I'm good for his morale. He says he'll never let you fire me, so don't waste your breath, Auntie. Get out of here. Go on. Get down to the freight house and keep your eyes open. We don't want to lose Cornelius. Don't worry, darling. Guard duty's an old specialty of mine. Yes, who is it? Name is Marlow. I'd like to see Lord Ashley Duke. Oh, well, I. Oh, where? Yes, he's not in. But what did you want to see him about? Oh, business. Can you help me? Perhaps. You see, I'm his business. I used to be his business manager. She was just leaving. Weren't you, Merle Darling? Yes. Merle Darling was Mr. Marlow. Lady Ashley Duke. Goodbye, Auntie. Unhappy, huh? Oh, rather. Now, sir, to save each other's time. Let me be blunt. Lord Ashley Duke is no longer interested in making any investments whatsoever. Nor will he be interested at a future date. Is that clear, sir? It's like well water, Lady Ashley Duke. And if I were looking for an investor, I'd keep it in mind. But you see, I'm a private detective working for Wesley MacDuff. A paper, a lousy paper pushing his way in here. Why are you. Easy, easy, Gertie. Let go. Get your filthy hands off me. Sure, just as soon as you get back into neutral. I also want to save us time. And I want to save Cornelius, too. How do we talk? Or wrestle? Which? Oh, all right. Seven weeks ago, Lord Ashley Duke and I bought Cornelius from that crazy monkey racer out in burbank. Paid MacDuff $30,000 for a rundown 17 year old chimpanzee. Well, then why do you want to kill him? McDuff thinks you're going to. Yeah, McDuff's crazy. Just because we change our minds and instead of staying here in la, decide to go on the road. Macduff thinks Cornelius will catch cold and die, so he wants him back. Yeah, but you get your money back. Yeah. What about the seven weeks of work just to teach him to drop a glass? Not only that, he's a wonderful imitator. I can see your point. Besides, a deal's a deal. We're taking the risk of Cornelius's death, not the loon who runs that Burbank animal farm. That Scotchman thinks every animal in the joint's related to him. It's an old idea, honey, but. Look, Lady Ash. What? We've had our talk, people. Now, get up. Go on, go on, get out. Before I forget, I'm a lady. Over here, Tompkins. What is it? A telephone call, sir. Booth four. This way, please. Make out all right up there, Jim. Dandy. Good. Now, if you feel I was underpaid. I feel we came out even, Buster. Besides, I'm running low on farthings. Unless. Yes? You know where the freight house Cornelius calls home is located? Uh. Blank. Okay. So long, Tompkins. Hello, Mr. Morrow. Yeah, yeah, yeah. You all right, MacDuff? Hey, it takes more than a foul blow in the dark to stop Meeman. It's just what Lord Ashley Duke is going to discover in many minutes. What do you mean? That I've run out of patience. I'm going to act, not talk. I'm about to take Cornelius back with my own hands, and I want you to help. Oh, now, wait a minute. I'm in a drugstore at Pershing Square, close by the freight house where Cornelius is caged for shipment. I want you to. You can't steal him, MacDuff. Ah, I can steal him and disguise the animals so they'll never be able to claim him again. So they won't be able to kill him. MacDuff, I can't go along with that. Then I chose the wrong man. There's precious little time left, Mr. Marlowe. Tomorrow they leave Los Angeles. Now, will you help me? No. Beside McDuffie, you'll never get away with it. There's a girl, Ashley Duke's niece, who's got a gun, and I. McDuff. McDuff. All the way from the phone booth, through the lobby, into my car outside, I kept telling myself three things. One, I wasn't working for McDuff. To McDuff was about to commit a crime. And three, I couldn't worry about the gun and Merle Brimmer's purse. It was all none of my business. So when I was in behind the wheel of my car, I pointed it toward my apartment on Franklin, lit a cigarette and forgot about the whole thing. But a block later, I threw the cigarette out, turned, and headed for Pershing Square. Scots with animal farms in Burbank obviously weren't the only crazy people in Los Angeles. After arriving at Pershing Square, I was 30 minutes piling up wisecracks, frozen stairs and assorted giggles before I hit pay dirt. A bottle boy with a great memory. Yeah, sure, I know the place. Only spot around it'll ship live animals along with the rest of the stuff that they handle. Anything from an eel to an elephant. How about pink ones? You got those, too? That's what I thought. Yeah, I worked there once during The Christmas rush made the price of a fifth in one day. Now, look, look. You'll do it again right now if you can tell me one thing. The address. What is it? It's 44. Come on, come on. 42. Stick with it's 5. Crawl back in a bottle. I'll see you. The neighborhood was half residential, half industrial and all rundown, including the freight house, which was two windowless stories of dirty red brick hovering over a loading ramp on a deserted, shadowy street. I started slowly toward it when suddenly a side door flew open and next excited old man with flashlight and giant key ring that spelled night watchman leaped out of the building, arms and legs going like twin beaters on a Mixmaster. Help me. I can't catch him myself. Hey. Hey, Pop, it. Is it the chimp? Yes. And he's raising the roof in there. Yeah. If I shoot him, I'll be fired. He's worth a fortune. I know all about it. Come on, I'll give you a hand. Okay. Good. Well, let's go. Where is he? Upstairs, hanging in one window at the back. I just turned the lights on and there he was. When he seen me, grabbed a stick from the floor and started beating things with it. Oh, fine. And then he broke the window and began to swing on the block and tackle. It runs outside from the roof to the ground. Look, there he is. Yeah, still beat him. Hey, Poppy's gonna fling it. There he goes. Down the road and away. Well, all right, Pop. We better call the cops. Over there. There he's Empty cage. It's a girl. Blood all over her head. Holy smokes. Merle Brimmer. She did? Yeah. Beat to death with the stick the chimp just threw at us. Then. Then you think the monkey did it? I don't know. Maybe yes, maybe no. He's a great imitator, Pop. It could have been somebody else. Not the monkey. Then who? Who else? A monkey's uncle. A Scotchman named Mac Du. In just a moment, the second act of Philip Marlowe. But first, Groucho Marx will make another of his famed personal appearances on most of these same CBS stations this Wednesday night. Groucho Marx, whose many activities include emceeing you Bet yout Life, one of the craziest quiz shows on the air. You're cordially invited to hear Groucho Marx every Wednesday on cbs. Now with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlowe and tonight's story, the Monkey's Uncle. I walked around the body of the girl on the Freight house floor. I took a close look at the cage lock. There was no doubt that it had been forced from the outside. The watchman, staring down at the body was shaking like a motorcycle with square wheels. I took him by the arm and walked him down the stairs and outside with some air. It's. It's terrible. I don't know what to do. Nothing like this ever happened here before. And the boss never told me what I'm supposed to do. In a case like that, it's easy. Just call the police. The police? Yeah. I'll tell the SPCA and Frank Buck. Chances are we'll need them all before the night's over. Okay, mister. Thanks, Usher. Hey, who's that getting out of that cab? From the top hat, cape and spats, I'd say it was one Lord Ashley Duke, the legal owner of the Chimp. Oh, what are you two, blighters staring at him? Out of my way. Just a moment. Just a moment. Before you go inside, I want to talk to you. Lord Ashley Duke. You know my name, do you? Well, now, my job. That's interesting. I don't know you, sir. I'll survive. Why'd you come down here tonight? Because I heard that my niece was here protecting my property. And that's no suitable task for a girl not capable to do that sort of thing, you know. It's a man's job, you know. Had a beastly time finding the place, too. You haven't been here before, huh? Oh, yes, Yes, a couple of days ago. That was in broad daylight. Stand aside. One thing more. Why did you slug Wesley McDuff tonight and dump him in a cab? Just who are you, anyway? Private detective. Philip Marlow's name. Sounds British enough. About as British as you are. Oh, yes. And you, I presume, are the watchman. Yes, sir, that's me, your Highness. What about Macduff? Your Highness, there's no choice. The blighter wanted to welch on the transaction we'd made. I refused and he threatened me. So I mopped him, then made out he was intoxicated, you know, packed him off in a cabin. Oh. Nevertheless, when a man sells me a monkey. Ay, George, that monkey is mine. And thought that treatment might bring Macduff to his bloody senses. Well, it didn't. It made him tougher. And what's more, the chimpanzee is gone and Cornelius is gone. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Come on, Pop. Okay. Mel. Mel, dear, where are you? Merle. What? Merle. Merle, what's happened to you? Oh, no. Merle. Merle, baby. That's the way she was when we found her. And that crazy monkey was in here, just a jumping up and down like he was throwing a fit. It was McDuff. McDuff. That's who it was, that madman. Holy mackerel. What was that? I don't know, but I'm going to find out. You stay here. The scream had come from the architectural blunder. Next door was one of those big gingerbread houses left over from the 1800s, and I got there just in time to meet the witch. The scaly front portal was jerked open in front of me, and there she stood like a pool queue in high panic, top by a head of brittle orange hair half down, up tight, and the other half streaming over her face. She clutched frantically at the same kimono with one hand and me with the other one. Take it easy. Hold it, will you? What's going on? Oh. Oh, that face. That open face. What face? Ugliest thing I've ever seen. Oh, protect me. It's a fearful. Take it easy. Will you calm down and tell me what happened? I was upstairs in my room taking my hair down when I happened to look over at the window, and there was that face shoved right up against the glass. Oh, I swear I never seen nothing like that since before I took the cure, mister. All right, now, listen, I. Hair all over it, red eyes and a big grinning mouth. What was like one of the giant gorillas that got in the movie. That's Cornelius, all right. Where's the room? I walked there at the head of them stairs. Hey, you ain't going up there and leave me all alone, are you? Well, then come along. Corny's a trained chimp. He won't hurt you. Oh, no, not me, brother. I'm getting. Where? Where? Tell me, is that a passage out there between the houses? Oh, no, no. It's a kind of an air shift. Only is closed up at the base. You mean he can't get through to the alley? Yeah. Yeah, that's right. There's no way out of there except the street. All right, come on. Let's get outside. We got him cornered. Oh, you got him cornered, baby. Mister. Not me. I didn't want nothing more to do with that ugly puss. The air shaft was a scant 18 inches wide and as dark and cluttered as the inside of a goat pen with odors to match. I worked my way back as far as the bashful light from the straight reach. Don't be cheerful in, dear mister. Then I stopped and listened But Cornelius was a genius. There wasn't a sound. I couldn't see my hand in front of my face, to say nothing of a black haired chimpanzee who was no doubt getting a big kick out of the entire procedure. I decided to try psychology on him. So I called in what I hope was a firm but friendly voice, and it got me no place. I groped my way along the wall of the drainpipe and called again, this time shorter on the friendly and longer on the firm, which was a mistake. The drain pipe should have given me a hint, but it didn't. Oh. What's the matter? He's gone. Hold on. Who? Who? Who's gone? I said. Kabila. It was up on the drain pipe. It hit you on the head with something, then ran right passed me and got away in a taxi. Oh, come on. Let's get out of here. Wait a minute. Wait a minute, baby. I. I could have sworn you said the monkey took a taxi. Yeah, you did. I watched the whole thing. As soon as it got out in the street, a man in a checkered pan with a crooked stick in his hand came out from between them buildings over there and called it. They ran up to a taxi, the driver jumped out and they drove away. I seen him. The driver jumped out and they drove away. Yeah. I don't think you took the cure soon enough. Well, I seen something else too. A fat braid in a high hat and spats. Came charging out of the freight house there. Saw the cab leaving, got in a green coat that was locked in front and took off. Holy smoke. That's my car. Oh, it's gone. How do you like that? Yeah. Now maybe you believe me, huh? Every screwy word, sweetheart. Now, look. You didn't happen to see. Look. Look. That's the cab driver there. Did anybody see what happened? I gotta have a witness. My taxi was hijacked off of me by two crazy guys. One of them looked like an ape. Exactly like an ape. Move over, bud. We're on the same raft. My car's gone too. Tell me what happened, will you? Start at the top. Okay. Tonight, I bring this big shot and a high hat down here to the freight house. He hops out, tells me to wait, see? Yeah. So I drive down the block and turn around. I'm parked right over there, trying to grab a quick 40 winks, when up comes this loon. A Scotchman. Yeah, that's him. He throws me a fast address and starts getting in, see? I politely tell him the flag is down, but he keeps coming you see, it's just like. Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just like it. Now, look, did you ever see this Scotchman before? No, never. I figure maybe he's got a snoot full of happy Days, nothing more. So I'm reaching over to block him when a pair of hands that feels like a doormat with muscles grabs me around the neck. I twist around and look, and what do I see? Cornelius. Him, I don't know, but an ape man is crawling in my window. So help me, I'm rubbing noses with a missing link. Yeah, I know. Then what happened, Mac? I jump out of the taxi, and before I know it, the old geezer gives me a claw with his stick, piles in. The next thing, my taxi is gone, just like that. You gotta believe me. Somebody's gotta back me up. If I try this on the cops, they'll have me in a paddle cell in no time. Don't worry about it, fella. Just reach hard for that address the Scotchman gave you. Can you remember it? Oh, sure. Let me see. It was the Rushmore. Rushmore? Yeah, yeah. That's a down at the Heels Motel out on Vernon. Somewhere around Beverly Boulevard. Ed. Nathan. Whoa. Stepped on something here on this sidewalk. Oh, you sure did, cutie. Smashed it too. It looks like somebody's watch crystal. Sure. Ladies watch crystal. Oh, a nice one. See, it had this hunk of black ribbon with it. Ladies. What? Hey, wait a minute. Let me see that. Sure. Here. Velvet. Yeah. Yeah, it sure is. It doesn't fit. Not here. No one's been here but the three of us and the chimpanzees. So long, kids. Hey. Hey, wait. Where are you at? I'm gonna talk to a liar about a murder. I'll see you later at headquarters, I hope. Talk to the night watchman in the freight house. You'll be good for each other. I was two blocks on foot, finding another taxi in 15 minutes. Getting from there out to the motel, worrying all the way because I'd left my gun under the front seat of my car. Business was slow at the Rushmore. The only cabin that showed a light was the last in the rear, next to the alley. I was sure of what I'd find inside, in spite of the fact that neither the stolen cab nor my coop was any place in sight. When I heard the voices, I decided to bluff it. I went up to the front door and pressed my ear against the flimsy panel. Anyway, a Bargain's a bargain, MacDuff. You'd have done better to stick by it. I'D have stick by it if ye had your scare of a crook. Don't reach for your chain. A little late for that. You're in a real jam now. I'm gonna see you blamed for my niece's murder. But I didna kill her. I pushed her down. I. She caught me unlocking Cornelia's cage and tried to stop me. But I didna kill her. You did that? Yes. Yes, but who knows that except you and the monk there, and he can't talk. And you won't believe me. Ah, you daft man. Why did you do it? Because I had to. Because Merle was pleading me to death every cent I could lay my hands on. I had to buy her silence. I had to pretend to lose thousands in poor investments. Well, Merle got what was coming to her, and you gave me that chance. I found her on the floor where you left her and simply finished the job. Then you ran off and came back in that taxi 15 minutes later. The very spirit of innocence. I saw you. Very well, Lord Ashley. Duke, You've got me as a thief too. So get on with it. Get on with your filthy, evil plan. I'm ready. Don't be in a hurry, Macduff. Stay where you are, Ashley. Don't bother turning around. Just drop the gun. I knew you'd no let me down, laddie. I knew it. What's this, old boy? It's rather an untimely incident. Skip the accent, Burch. You won't need it where you're going. Drop that gun, I said, or you'll move. Shoot me with that pipe in your pocket, Marlow. I've got your gun here in my hand, and you know it. Want a bit? Well, with the light out? Yes. Ashley. Oh, it's a very strange thing, lad. He hit you but once. There are two lumps on your skull you can miscondition. Never mind. Skip it. I don't want to talk about it. So where's Ashley? Thrust up there in the corner. He should be coming around soon. You see, Cornelius, as you've no doubt learned, is a great imitator. When he saw Ashley bat you on the head with a gun, he grabbed McCain, leaped up on the dresser there and batted Ashley on the head. Oh, no. Not with this headache. Hey, don't tell me I'm indebted to that. Just when I was learning to hate him. Aye, we both are for our lives. But tell me, what does a black velvet ribbon and a watch crystal mean? Mumbled that over and over while you were out. Oh, well, that's how I knew Ashley was a liar and a killer. See, the cab driver stepped on a round piece of glass that looked like a watch crystal with a ribbon attached. Happened on the sidewalk in front of an air shaft. Actually, the. Oh. Actually, the glass was a monocle dropped by Lord Ashley Duque. Oh, Ashley never been at that spot. No, but if Cornelius had, and if Cornelius dropped the monocle, it indicated that Lord Ashley Duke had been someplace with Cornelius early at night. You see, it could only be the freight house. Yet Ashley claimed he hadn't been there for two days. Oh, you do? Oh, my head. How about you, Cornelius? Yeah. Well, that's one of the best answers I've had tonight. It didn't take long at police headquarters, maybe an hour. Altogether, a killer was locked up for trial. And the key witness ate three erasers, spilled a quart of ink and broke a window. Before the homicide boys finally gave up, I watched the phony Lord Ashley Duke walk down the car to to his cell. Any connection he had with man was just the category. Then I watched McDuff and company leave too. A couple of regular guys, a monkey, a monkey's uncle. A genuine old Scott who loved life and his shuffling friend whose only limitation was his inability to speak. But he communicated all right. And the only language that means anything. Love of one creature for another. The adventures of Philip Marlow bringing you Raymond Chandler's most famous character. Star Gerald Moore are produced and directed by Norman Macdonald and are written for radio by Robert Mitchell and Gene Levitt. As a special note of interest, Philip Marlowe fans, you'll be glad to know that radio and television Life magazine has this week named Gerald Moore as the best male actor in radio. Featured in our cast were Mary Lansing, John Danar, Tudor Owen, Sam Edwards, Michael Ann Barrett, Harry Bartel and Junius Matthews. The special music is composed and conducted by Richard Arundt. Be sure and be with us again next week when Philip Marlowe says, this time a case hardened. Carhop knocked me down a flight of stairs. An honest woman was strangled by a green silk sash and a simpering dandy was shot to death. All because of a run of the mill traffic accident 500 miles away. You hear them all on CBS. And one of the funniest parts of that all comes from the bird brain of a woman. Ms. Gracie Allen of Burns and Allen. Top troopers on the American stage for years, top radio stars after that. George and Gracie are now playing a big part in CBS's great Wednesday night lineup. Bing Crosby, Groucho Marx, George and Gracie. Dr. Christian, join George Burns and Gracie Allen this Wednesday night on most of the same CBS station. This is Roy Rowan speaking. Now stay tuned for Pursuit, which follows immediately over most of the same CBS stations. This is cbs, where Burns and Ellen are heard every Wednesday night. The Columbia Broadcasting System RA.