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Choice Classic Radio Detectives | Old Time Radio
Broadway Is My Beat: The Celia Jordan Murder Case 07/24/1950
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Your message amplified. Ready to share your message with the world? Start your podcast journey with Podbean. Podbean Podbean Podbean Podbean the AI powered all in one podcast platform. Thousands of businesses and enterprises trust Podbean to launch their podcasts. Launch your podcast on podbean today. My school uses Podbean. My church too. I love it. I really do. You don't need to be ripped, you just need the right shirt. Epic Fits gives you a clean, confident silhouette. Snug on the arms, soft on the skin, generous where it counts, and with deals like $15 per tee, they won't break the bank. Visit epicfits.com today. Epic fits t shirts that get it welcome to Choice Classic Radio where we bring to you the greatest old time radio shows like us on Facebook. Subscribe to us on YouTube and thank you for donating at ChoiceClassicRadio. Wrigley's spearmint chewing Gum the refreshing, delicious treat that gives you chewing enjoyment presents for your listening enjoyment. Broadway's My Beat From Times Square to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway's My Beat, the thrilling drama of murder and mystery and the people who walk the Great White Way with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. To make every day more enjoyable, treat yourself often to refreshing, delicious. Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum Here's a taste treat you can enjoy indoors, outdoors, at work or at play. The cool, long lasting mint flavor refreshes you. The smooth, steady chewing helps keep you fresh and alert. Adds enjoyment to whatever you're doing. Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum Healthful, refreshing, delicious. In the summer's heat, Broadway is a wasteland, sullen, a place of regret. It's a time when the breeze puffs in from the river, dies suddenly before it touches your dampened cheek. The time when you wake up already exhausted, then pause before your office door and consider arson. Broadway fans itself with a newspaper and finds fascination watching a fat fly crawl against a sweating window. The thing to do is give up. Except you've got a job. Except you've got to pay the rent, Pick up the check, buy the beer, leave the tip, meet the installment. July or not, you've got to make a living, kid. For my part, I would rather have been at Jones Beach. But I wasn't. The apartment was expensive, but something had gone wrong. The upended furniture, the torn drapes, the slick paintings abstracted into crazy angles against the wall, the empty liquor bottles. The place was A mess which included the man who nagged at me. You've been doing nothing but walk around. Say something to me so I'll know you're working. I'm working, Mr. Chelsea. I walk around and observe and jot little things down in this little book, and that's what I get paid for. You don't care, do you? What do you care if someone's been killed? Slashed to death? Show me a body, and I'll help you weep. If you'd only listen to me. Stop walking around and hear what I've got to say. All right. Go ahead, Mr. Chelsea. Something's happened to Celia. Celia Jordan. That's the name, isn't it? So I'll know. Why don't you pay attention? Look at those spots over there. Blood. I'd say they were blood. Drunks have a habit of getting themselves nicked. I can show you statistics. Something's happened to Celia. Mr. Chelsea. Why are you here? What are you doing in this apartment? I asked you that 10 minutes ago, and you told me something's happened to Celia. What are you doing here? I had a date with her tonight. I have one with her almost every night. I see. Is this Ms. Jordan's photograph? She's young. About 22, I'd say. But then I'm not very good on guessing ages. For instance, I'd say you were about 53, 51. You see what I mean? I'm not very good about ages. Something's happened. Don't do that again, Mr. Chelsea. Well, something has, and I know why, too. Now I'll listen to you. I've known Celia for three years. Met her at a banquet from my corporation stockholders. She was there because. Well, if you must know. Well, she was in a cake. You met her in a cake, mister? Well. Well, I pulled the ribbon that was attached to this big cake on the table. And Celia popped out. That sometimes happens. And it was just about this time that Cliff went away. Cliff? Cliff Moore. A boy that Celia used to know. He was in the army, Went overseas with the occupation forces three years ago. I see. And you took over. Cliff is back now. Celia told me. She said she saw Cliff on the street and he recognized her. But she didn't recognize him. Oh? Why? She found out Cliff was discharged for mental reasons. Something about he was hurt on maneuvers. Oh, I don't know. You're trying to say that this Cliff, this Cliff, has done harm to Celia. That's what I'm trying to say. What about those blood stains? What do you think I'm Saying it could have been nothing or it could have been what the man said. A violence unknown, unshaped, born and nurtured in the December love of the man for a woman. And finally, the violence, assuming its pattern and its texture. The room torn in anger, the room empty of the woman, the room stained with blood. And the policeman has to make sure he calls the men from Technical. And they come with their scales and their rules and the sharp little knives they scrape and measure and weigh. The blood is human blood. Does it equal death? And that's an equation a policeman has to solve. At the hotel where Cliff Moore lived, they told me he'd checked out. No, he hadn't left a forwarding address. And that meant an all points bulletin on Cliff Moore and Celia Jordan. And in a few hours, a call from Detective Mugavan. A bartender on 3rd Avenue had recognized a picture of Celia Jordan. Would I care to come down and check? I cared. Hi, Danny. Hello, Mugavan. Which one recognized the picture? Charlie, over there. Hey, Charlie. Another suds coming up. Detective Mugavan. No, no Charlie, just you. No more beer. What'll it be? Detective Muggervin? This is Danny Clover, Charlie. The detective handling the case I was telling you about, Charlie. Well, I'm glad to know you, Danny. Muggerman tells me you recognize Celia Jordan's picture. Was she in here? Well, now she was that. And not alone with a man. And, well, she might be, she's that pretty. When was that? Oh, yesterday. Toward the cool of evening, in the twilight cocktail hour, they sat at that marble topped table with the romantic crack in its surface. What time did they leave? Oh, around 8, I'd say. They were hungry, went off to eat. How do you know the girl was so pretty? I kept hovering around the table that way, willy nilly. I was forced. Eavesdrop. Were you forced to hear where they went? I was indeed. To Matthew's. The steakhouse on Second Avenue. It was you waited on this girl? Hmm? I'm certain of it. Of course, yes. Was she with anyone? She was a young man. A nervous temperamental type. I'd classify him the way he handled his eating tools, the way he addressed himself to his food. All symptoms. About how long were they here? A modest time. They ate neither too quickly nor slowly. Rather rare in these times. How long? An hour and a half. An hour and 40 minutes. What does it matter one way or another? They left here around 10 o'. Clock. Around 10 o' clock did you? Permit me to anticipate your question, friend. They left by cab. Yellow Cab. Yeah, I picked him up at a stake joint on second. What's the matter? They committed something. Where'd you take them? To the girl's apartment on 63rd. Man tells me to wait. I wait an hour, an hour and a half, two hours. My meter is a bloom. With money down he comes and spoils it all alone. All alone. I gather that they. What does it matter what I gather? Anyway, I take the guy to the address he gives me. Where? The Suffolk Hotel on 70 faced. He committed something. Yeah. Come on in. Well, don't stand there. Come on in. You're Cliff Moore? I'll close the door and sit down, will you? We've been looking for you, Cliff. No. That's mighty nice. The police. Oh, I know. What? The census taker missed me. You know why we've been looking for you? Gosh. Huh? I don't know you well enough, so I said, gosh, that's because my cigarette just rolled off the table. Step on it, huh? Thanks. You were looking for me? Why? Because of Celia Jordan. She's coming back to me on bended knee and she's rousted the whole police department to find me. Good sweet four square. Celia. She's missing, Cliff. We found blood stains in her apartment. That guy, that Paul. Chelsea beat her up. Oh, I bet she had fun. Cliff, we know you were with Celia last night. We know you took her home, spent some time in her apartment. Swell, swell. What happened between you and her yesterday? Walked and talked and sipped a few and had a steak. You know, boy and girl, hand in hand. The things magazine ads are made of. What happened in her apartment? Oh, sad time she had a smile all rehearsed to drag out for the occasion. You're a nice boy, Cliff, and we did have fun. But you're broken. The best you can expect is 50 a week if you're your type of successful. Anyway, Cliff, there's the thing. She didn't know how to say it, so she called it the thing. She said it in capital letters. About what? I got a medical discharge from the army. Because. Well, because I'm a nervous boy. Post war Germany made me nervous. Also a live landmine during maneuvers. What else? I don't know. So you can't find Celia, huh? No, we can't. Now, when you find her, let me know if she needs any help. Sure. Don't run away, Cliff. You kidding? I sit here and run away all the time because I'm a nervous boy. Look what I got on the tray, Danny. Nice surprise, huh? Huh? Come on, sit down, Danny. And I will cater to you. Iced tea. Danny, look. Boiled hot water. Courtesy the lab boys with their Bunsen burners. Jewels of ice. Courtesy the deft hand of Gino Tartaglia. Poor learning from a water cooler. Teabags. Courtesy Mrs. Tartaglia, who is friendly with the friendly Jewel T man. Glasses. Courtesy Gino. Gino, what have I ever done? Well, you have been considerate and kind to me, Danny. So this is just a small token of the. Well, how do you want it? With or without lemon? With the best way to fight the heat. Hey. Coming up. Danny. Gino. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. You want to know. Is there any progress in the search? For once Celia Jordan vanished. Possibly mayhem committed upon, possibly deceased. Stop me if I'm wrong. No, no, go ahead. There is no progress. Anything else, Danny? No, no, I guess there's nothing else. Do you know excuse me. Certainly. Thank you. Danny Clover speaking. I understand you've been looking for me, Mr. Clover. Who is this? Celia Jordan. Are you all right? Not a mark on you, Mr. Clover. Anywhere. Come see for yourself. You really should. It leaves your mind. But we thought. Where are you, Ms. Jordan? At the Amsterdam Hotel on 34th Street. Room 2412. I'll be ready for you. You see? You see, Mr. Clover, I'm perfectly all right. My arms, legs, throat. I wore this sunsuit especially for you. So you could see I was all right all over. I'm all right, Ms. Jordan. Except inside, since I called you. It's funny. Inside it doesn't feel so good. Inside, it hurts. Here, let me help you. Lie down here on this couch. Thanks. You know, something is going on. Don't talk. I'll go get a doctor. No. Oh, don't go. It really hurts. It hurts bad. Don't go. Help me. Even after death touched her, I whispered to her. Her eyes pleaded with me. The attitude of her body was a beggar's. Contorted in pain, twisted in longing, grotesque with despair. And suddenly she could no longer re. And her body eased with the acceptance was still because the poison inside her was stilled, its shadow on her lips. In her eyes, the violence that had been marked for Celia Jordan was finally hers. Celia Jordan was dead. Remember, friends, to make every day more enjoyable, treat yourself often to refreshing, delicious Wrigley spearmint chewing gum. There's lots of cooling, real mint flavor in every stick. And chewing Wrigley Spearmint helps keep you feeling fresh and alert. You feel better, work better. Get more fun out of doing things. So indoors, outdoors, wherever you go, keep some healthful, refreshing Wriggly Spearmint Chewing Gum. Handy to make every day more enjoyable. Treat yourself often to delicious Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum. We now continue with Broadway's My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Summer begins its long dying. Broadway reacts to the process about the same as anywhere else. With regret for the smile and closed eyes. Except on Broadway, there'll be more things to remember, huh, kid? The evenings, just as twilight washed over you and the lights on the Trans Lux flicker like fireflies and dance out the dance of how it is to be at war in the summertime and a cool evening breeze from the air cooled, movie refreshing till the newsreel sends out a cold wind. You shiver and move to another place. Because in summer, a man needs something he can hold onto. Something to latch onto. Like the murder of that girl there in that hotel in the sun suit. Poisoned. Murdered. Saying the last word she ever said into the ears of a policeman. And the next morning at headquarters, the policeman sits in his office remembering her words but finding in them no trace of a murderer's name. Then a door opens, and a voice that's welcome calls you Danny. And it's Dr. Sinski. Danny. This heat, this inferno can take the heart out of a man. Well, sit over there by the window, Doctor. Pretty girl might walk by and set a cool breeze in motion. Dreamer. That's no good, huh, Doctor? You can't put it off, huh? No, Danny. That's why I'm here. Yeah, I wish it could be just a chat, but man wishes and death. Ah. The report on Celia Jordan. Poisoned. You were right, Danny. The girl was poisoned. What kind? Doesn't matter much. What matters is that there was enough to kill her. What? Pain must have been hers. How long? Poison that takes? Maybe three hours to act with five minutes of terrible pain at the end. Anything else, Doctor? You asked me to examine her for a cut or a wound. Well, there was nothing, Danny. Her skin was not even scratched. Not even the shadow of a bruise. This is important. Yeah, because it might give me your murderer. Excuse me, doctor. Mug. Here, Danny, I want you to take a plant mug ofan. Okay, Danny. Where? Who? Suffolk Hotel on 71st. Cliff Moore. First Cliff Moore. Got it, Danny. This Cliff Moore, he murdered the girl. Maybe. But I don't think so. Oh, this is a day for riddles, huh, Danny? No, Doctor, this is the day where I get a choice. I get two suspects for the price of one. Podbeam. Your message amplified. Ready to share your message with the world. Start your podcast journey with Podbean. Podbean, the AI powered all in one podcast platform. Thousands of businesses and enterprises trust Podbean to launch their podcasts. Use Podbean to record your podcast. Use PodBean AI to optimize your podcast. Use PodBean AI to turn your blog into a podcast. Use Podbean to distribute your podcast everywhere. Launch your podcast on Podbean today. You don't need to be ripped. You just need the right shirt. Epic Fits gives you a clean, confident silhouette. Snug on the arms, soft on the skin, generous where it counts. And with deals like $15 per tee, they won't break the bank. Visit epicfits.com today. Epic fits t shirts that get it. Yes? My name's Danny Clover. I'm from the police. Are you Mrs. Chelsea? You have the correct house? Yes. Well, then, please come in. Thank you. Mrs. Chelsea, I. Sit down, please. All right. Yes, I wanted to talk to your husband. Oh, I'm afraid not. He's not home. You know, I stopped at his office. He wasn't there either? No, of course not. Then where is he? Oh, I'm afraid I couldn't tell you that. I really don't know where he is. The bother of me. Don't you care where he is? Paul, My husband. Oh, no, Mrs. Chelsea. Is Paul in trouble? Yes, he is. I'll fix your drink if you'd like. No, don't bother. It's in connection with a murder. Yeah, the one in this morning's paper. Celia Jordan's. You know about her? Paul doesn't think I do, but I know all about her. Unfortunate. Some women never know why suddenly they come to hate the men they used to love. They blame it on routine getting old. Habit. So silly. And you hate your husband because of Celia Jordan? Has he murdered her? Maybe. Maybe someone else. We'll find out. I wouldn't suspect anyone else if I were you. That'd be stupid. Paul killed that girl. He told you he didn't. As much as did that. I confess it. I listen in on his telephone conversations. He thinks I eat chocolates when I lie in bed. Oh, I do. But I listen to his conversations on the extensions. Not much fun. But then it's not much effort either. What are you trying to tell me, Mrs. Chelsea? That girl was blackmailing Paul. Oh. $50,000. Was your husband going to pay it? He said he'd meet her at the Amsterdam Hotel, but I know it wasn't to pay the money. Oh, my. Of course not. $50,000 and I guess he did commit murder. If what you say is true, please understand me. I'm plump, I'm a Hennard, I eat chocolate and I sleep most of the day. I'm a woman in her late 40s, so I would lie. But not to help Paul. Not Paul. Then you're glad your husband might be held for murder? Well, I'll miss him. He's not coming home. When he usually does my thing. Throw my days off. It'll be an effort to get used to it. But on the whole, Mr. Clover. Yes, on the whole, I'm glad about it. Delighted, as a matter of fact. Nothing nice has happened to me in a long time. I'd like that drink, Mr. Clover, wouldn't you? I said no, thanks. Which gave Mrs. Chelsea reason to pop a fruit filled nugget in her mouth. She didn't offer me one of those. So I knew my time was up. I left. I checked Mugavan. Clif Moore hadn't stirred. Mugavan told me then to find Mr. Chelsea back to his office. Not in Try his club. I tried his club. Not in Try. The bar around the corner. Not there. So I went to a place without being told. The apartment where I'd first met Mr. Chelsea. Why, I reasoned, shouldn't Mr. Chelsea be there again? For the sake of sweet old nostalgia. The door was open. I walked in. The place looked better. Neat. Everything in its place. The pictures, furniture, Esther Chelsea. I knew it was him because once I'd noticed he was getting bald. The pattern of it was the same. But Mr. Chelsea had been battered, beaten with a fury that demanded a lot of pain. Get there before death did. The pain had made it. So had death. Now it gave me a new place to go. Here, Danny. Here I am. Shade of this doorway. Clifmore. He's in his room. And the hotel hasn't stood from him. What's the matter, Danny? You don't look good. Looks like more than the heat. I just caught myself a murderer. Oh, yeah. Paul Chelsea. Well, that should make you look good anyway. Better. Those blood stains he showed me in Celia Jordan's room, they were his. From a cut under his arm. I saw it. I took the bandage off. So why so gloomy? You got him. He staged the whole thing. The room in a shambles, the blood stains on the floor. He figured killing was easier than paying blackmail. But he made a mistake. What's the matter with you, Danny? Of course he did. So why not that kind of mistake? He got himself beaten up. Beaten to death, but for sure. With an Andiron? Cliff Moore? I think so. Go back to headquarters, Mugaban. I won't need you anymore. Come in. Oh, it's you. It came back to me. Ain't that interesting? You are, Cliff. Doctors find me so sometimes. Kids and women. This I understand. But you, now that throws me. You interest me. Because you're a murderer. Point of information. Who did that murder? Paul? Chelsea. Oh, him. So why did I murder him? A simple motive. An old one. You loved Celia. You beat Chelsea to death with Andiron because he killed your Celia. Every minute I learn new things. This Chelsea, Celia's good companion. He killed her, huh? I think so. A puzzle. Why did this old Mr. Chelsea murder something young and precious and vibrant, like they say, like Celia? You can answer that all by yourself, can't you, Cliff? Yes, I can. He killed her because she was gonna blackmail him. Did you know this whole blackmail thing was all my idea? Because I'm cynical and sick. The proud possessor of a medical discharge. Let's go, Cliff. Stop it, Cliff. I said let's go on and hit me. There's nothing I could do to you, so hit me. What? Look at my hands. My arms. I can't lift them no more than that. That live mine I told you about. I fixed them like that. I can lift them maybe four inches. That's what makes me so interesting. That's how I can take an andiron and beat a man to death when I can't even open a door or lift a cigarette off the floor without crawling like an animal. You call me a mederer. Oh, thanks, Mr. Clover. Oh, my. And I was just dozing off, too. What now? May I Come in, Mrs. Chelsea? Oh, and I was just dozing off too. I have to talk to you. Oh, please come in. Oh, I hope this won't take too long. Sit down. No, I don't think so. What now, Mr. Clover? About Paul. Oh, Paul. He's dead. Oh, you're silly. He's dead, Mrs. Chelsea. He is Paul. What? Why? You're not kidding me. He really is, isn't he? Uh huh. You better leave me alone, Mr. Clover. The things I said about him. You won't believe me if I cry. No, I won't. I don't blame you. Please, please go away. Who killed him? You don't know who killed Paul? It was this way. Your husband murdered Celia Jordan. I told you that. Because she demanded blackmail. Because she threatened to tell you about what Paul had been doing. And I knew about it all the time. Errors. A comedy of errors. Tragedy. Blackmail was a scheme whipped up between Celia and her boyfriend, Cliff Moore. And this boy, this Cliff, he killed my husband. Why should Cliff do that? Why? Oh, my. You ask me that? A police. Yeah, that's what I asked you. Well, I think it's obvious, don't you? Paul kills his girl, Cliff shoots my husband. I didn't say your husband was shot. Oh, Your husband was beaten to death. Oh, Cliff beat him to death. You know, I've come to know your husband working on this case, peeking into small corners of his life. He was a man I can understand. I feel sorry for him. Tell me how so I can feel sorry for him too. I suppose I owe that to Paul. A man is 50. He knows it. Realizes that the rest of his life has to be lived. Something he wanted all his life and missed. Something like that. Passes close to him. He clutches onto it. I don't understand you at all. Something like a beautiful girl. A sympathetic girl. Celia. You can't really blame him now, can you, Mrs. Chelsea? After all, he had his own home. He had me. What's wrong with me? Go ahead, tell me. I can take it. What's wrong? You couldn't hold your husband. Why? Why couldn't I hold him? Tell me why. Celia Jordan. Young, beautiful, warm. Her mind was lithe. Young. You filth. You like. Paul was kind to Paul. Filth. Something he wanted all his life. Filth. Something he didn't have with you. That's why you killed him. Beat him and beat him and beat him until he was dead. He died too quickly. He wouldn't even give me that satisfaction. Fil. Let's go, Mrs. Chelsea. When dawn touches Broadway the shadows linger for one final caress Then leave and take away the night. A cloud drifts and far away a bird dips and touches it with a wing. The time has come for the day. The people wake, the fury gathers, the crowd funnels into the streets. Walk easy, kid. The shock is on. It's Broadway. The gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway. My beat. Remember, friends, to make every day more enjoyable, treat yourself often to refreshing, delicious Wrigley Spearmint chewing gum. There's lots of cooling, real mint flavor in every stick. And chewing Wrigley Spearmint helps keep you feeling fresh and alert. You feel better, work better. Get more fun out of doing things. So indoors, outdoors, wherever you go, keep some healthful, refreshing, wriggly Spearmint chewing gum. Handy to make every day more enjoyable. Treat yourself often to delicious Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum. The makers of Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum hope you've enjoyed tonight's story and that you're enjoying Wrigley Spearmint Gum every day. We invite you to join us next week at this time when Detective Danny Clover returns again with Broadway's My Beat. Broadway's My Beat, Brought to you by Wrigley's Spearmint Gum is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with music composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. The program is written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover, with Charles Calvert as Tartaglia. Included in tonight's cast were irene Tedro, Joyce McCluskey, Jack Crucian, Earl Ross, Jack Edwards and Tom Holland. Bob Stevenson speaking. This is cbs, the Columbia Broadcasting System.