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Choice Classic Radio Detectives | Old Time Radio
Broadway Is My Beat: The Elaine Hill Murder Case 04/21/1950
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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. It's true that some things change as we get older. But if you're a woman over 40 and you're dealing with insomnia, brain fog, moodiness and weight gain, you don't have to accept it as just another part of aging. And with MITI Health, you can get help and stop pushing through it alone. The experts at MIDI understand that all these symptoms can be connected to the hormonal changes that happen around menopause. And MIDI can help you feel more like yourself again. Many healthcare providers aren't trained to treat or even recognize menopause symptoms. MIDI clinicians are menopause experts. They're dedicated to providing safe, effective, FDA approved solutions for dozens of hormonal symptoms, not just hot flashes. Most importantly, they're covered by insurance. 91% of MITI patients get relief from symptoms within just two months. You deserve to feel great. Book your virtual visit today@joinmidi.com that's joinmidi.com 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@ChoiceClassicRadio.com 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 with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Broadway. It's a marketplace of the wanderers, the displaced, a glittering bazaar where the stars, your stalls are lighted in neon and you can buy, you buy an identity or a reason or a memory that was stolen from you. You think it belongs to you, but you're wrong. The hawkers of the night sold it, but only for the minutes of the night. More you must buy all over again. It's Broadway, my beat. Your squad car stabs te rips through the city and its wail is a piece of broken glass that slashes across the city's face and you see the terror, silent and quick and the blur of the city making way for you. Finally you're there in the place of the violent dead. It's an expensive room in an expensive hotel and a dead girl lies sprawled on the floor like an exhausted Child and her dress makes a blob of crimson in the room. There are shadows in attendance. Then one detaches itself and clutches onto you and screams. You'll believe me, won't you, mister? I don't know who you are, but you'll believe me. Someone's got to. Take your hands off the man, Mr. Jefferson. Don't pay any attention to him, mister. He's greedy. He. He just wants it all cut and dried. The girl murdered. And he says. I said, take your hands off the man. All right, I'll sit down. See, I'm cooperative. You sit down and shut up. Mr. Jeffries? That's right. That's a good boy. You must be Clover. I've seen your face, heard your name. Oh, and you? Joe Graham. Hoss. Detective. Don't get me wrong, Clover. I'm usually gentle as a kitten without paying guests, but. Mr. Jeffries. Are you from the police, Mr. Clover? I'm glad. I'll tell you exactly how it happened. I'll tell you everything. Back in your chair, Mr. Jeffries. I'll tell a detective. I'd rather hear it from Mr. Jeffries. Oh, to each his own. Go ahead, Mr. Jeffries. Tell the man the way you told it to me. I was taking a shower, Mr. Clover. That's all I was doing. I was getting ready to go out to dinner. I'm a salesman, Peerless Leather Goods Company. And I've been with the company for 10 years. Badge of merit for my enterprise. Stick to itiveness. You were taking a shower, Mr. Jeffries? Oh, yes. Well, I dressed. I come out of the shower, and there she was, just like that, lying on the floor. Well, I was shocked. I tried to wake her, throw her out, but she was dead. Choked to death. How do you know she died that way? What? The marks on her throat, the bruises. Didn't you see them? You must have seen them. Who was she? I never saw her before in my life. May I? Thank you. Girls. Elaine Hill. Works in the perfume shop in the lobby. Won a prize for being such a good sales girl. A week on the town. A plush room in this plush hotel. Everybody in the hotel has seen her, knows her. But not Mr. Jeffries. A beautiful girl like Elaine never saw her. And Mr. Jeffries? Never. How did she get into your room? The door was unlocked. Oh, yes. Well, that doesn't mean it anything, does it? I left it unlocked because I'd ordered a drink. It was brought to you. Yes, and that's how I can prove I didn't do it. Just at the Moment. The bellboy brought the drink. He just walked in. Just at that moment. I was coming out of the shower. We found the girl. Just ask him. That's all you have to do. He can prove I didn't do it. The bellboy, Graham, who was he? Fred Chandler. He said you disposal. Anytime you want him, keep him that way. Where's the girl's room? Down the hall. I'll go with you. Just give me the pass. Then you believe me. You believe I didn't do it. You'll have to be taken to headquarters. Oh, you can't. You can't do that to me. My reputation, my business, all the years I worked. You can't. I won't go. It goes like that. Violent death produces its own after images. The people who are suddenly thrown against it are scared. They're cooperative, they're uncooperative. It bores them. Depending upon their own attitude toward violence, their own conscience. Milburn Jeffries was screaming when the police led him out of the room. Joe Graham was grinning when he gave me the hotel pass. Key me. The sense of sorrow for a dead girl is a luxury that a policeman allows himself in the moments in between. It took a moment to walk down the corridor to Elaine Hill's room. She ain't here anymore, mister. Yeah, I know. So. Bye. Bye. On your feet, friends. What are you doing here? Gaze at me and you shall know. I'm sitting here smoking a cigarette. You gazed. I'm on your way. Police. Oh, a magic word. You see, I get up, I stand at attention. Have a whim. Go ahead, have one. I'll make it come true. Bellhops get paid for making whims come true. They stick in his uniform and. Yeah. Enchant me with your name. Fred Chandler Bellhouse. Who is it? Fred? Fred, who are you talking to? Oh, police. My Name's Danny Clover, Ms. Lee. I'm Anna Lee. I work here, you see. You're a maid? Oh, no. The cigar counter is where I really work. Downstairs in the lobby. I'm on my supper hour, a supper hour. She's my girl, so she likes to be with me. So she's helping. Yes, I'm helping Fred. Helping him do what? Oh, I get it. You're collecting information to help you solve a mysterious crime. I'll unfold it for you. Helping me do what you say. Helping me pack Ms. Hill's clothes. Who told you to do that? Lane Hill. She was checking out. She said, see that my clothes are packed. She give me a dollar, puts me under obligation, personal obligation. Now that she's dead, my work still goes on. Leave her clothes alone. Officer Florio will take care of them. One more thing, Fred. Quiz me. Were you in the room when Mr. Jeffries discovered the girl? The dead girl? Jeffrey said that. He said that, huh? He fib. He told a big, big fib. I brought in his drink and there he was, standing over Ms. Hill. Yes, yes, that's the way it was, Mr. Clover. That's just the way Fred told me it was. Fred's telling the truth. He's not in trouble, is he? Fred's not in trouble, Mr. Culver. Don't worry, Ms. Lee. Fred's not in trouble. But keep an eye on him. Keep an eye on each other. The girl's hand touched Fred's sleeve and he flicked it away. Then he crossed the room ahead of me, opened the door and bowed me out. Around Elaine Hill's death, there already grew the fungus of lies, of half truths, the weeds of a new violence to tear them out. I needed to know more about Elaine. How she lived, how she worked. There was a man who could tell me part of it. A man named Nicky Laszlo, dealer in perfumes in the lobby. All I know of Elaine, Mr. Clover, is beauty. She was employee of myself, but nevertheless beauty sheer exquisite. In my spare time, I coined new English words. Mr. Laszlo, pardon me. I want this would be put in the official records. You keep such records? Of course you keep. In this country, everybody keeps. Mr. Laszlo, I want you should put down salt. On the person of Elaine Hill. The perfumes of Nicky Lashlot smelled better than on person of any other person. That you see. Is my eulogy over my poor dead Elaine for publication. Touching change smelled to had more fragrance that has more sorrow in it. Agreed? Agreed. There could be sorrow in it for you too. Mr. Laszlo is already. I deserve more. If you don't answer questions directly without coining new words. Agreed. This is your country. I am only here on good behavior. Question me, Mr. Clover. Think back. Did Elaine ever say anything to you, do anything that might show that she was afraid of being killed? Of being killed? No, not once. Except only once. But not I think of being killed. Of what she didn't tell me. Didn't tell you what? Answer me, Laszlo, before I. Before you hurt me. I tell you. Last week came call from room 302. Wanted Elaine to exhibit perfume personally. This 302 Elaine took quickly atomizers went and came back with atomizers. But with tears in her eyes. I asked her what she told me. Nothing. Just cried and blow her Nose. That's all. That's all. That's all, Mr. Clover. The whole thing. All. And it goes on. Elaine Hill had been called to room 302 to style perfume, and she returned with a tear. I went back upstairs to the lobby and spotted Joe Graham. I told him to find out who occupied room 302 last Thursday. It would take some doing, Joe Graham said, because the books were snugged away for the night. But he was just the boy who could find out. Anyhow, he assured me, because he had influence around here. I assured him that was dandy. To let me know, he winked, and I went back to headquarters. I got as far as sitting at my desk. I shadowed you into your office, Danny. I see you did. Tataglia. Why did you? To offer you the hand that helps. All right. Help me. Detaglia. Who killed Elaine Hill? Huh? Who killed Elaine Hill? Danny, you're fighting me. You know I have a new approach in the solution of, as it were, crimes. You want to hear, tell me. Give out word to the newspapers that you will arrest the criminal at any moment. Only don't say what moment. This makes an emotional person like a criminal. Emotional? Nervous. And seeing that the die is cast and the vice is turning, he will give himself up or hang himself. What do you think of it? Danny Clover speaking. Joe Graham. Here's one, Danny. Nobody registered in room 302 last Thursday. The room was empty. You're sure? He asked me to find out and I found out. Sure I'm sure. Don't look the way you're looking, Danny. I got juicy news. Like what? Tell you what. Have a shave with me and I'll tell you. A shave? What are you talking about, Joe? In the barbershop, in the hotel. But it's after midnight. The shop's closed. Sure, but I got influence, like I told you. Look, Danny, I'm going off duty. I got a date. I gotta shave myself. Join me, huh? For the juicy news, huh? For the juicy news, huh? He said, and he hung up. It took 10 minutes for the squad car to get me to the hotel. In the early hours, the building stood like a sullen pile against the night. The nighttime was beginning to die. In the lobby, the dimness had started the talk more hushed. There was no laughter downstairs. The light bled through the lowered blinds of the barber shop onto the tiled floor. Somewhere far away in the world of the bar, a band had settled down to a waltz temple. I walked to the door of the shop, opened it. Joe Graham was standing there, back toward me, propped against a Corner. A hand resting on a tray of tonics and towels and brushes. Joel, what's the matter with you? Joel? What was the matter with Joel could never be fixed. The unfelt pain forever stamped on his face told me that the unseeing stare and the blood. Joe Graham was dead. There's a thing about Broadway at lunch hour. It takes its murder spliced between between nibbles and a hot dog and washes them down with cream soda. The deaths of Elaine Hill and Joe Graham were spectacularly headlined. So Broadway nodded approval and reached for the onions. It's these usual things that gives Broadway assurance all's right with the world. The only thing Broadway has to worry about is the hours between now and quitting time. In my office at headquarters, Sergeant Dattaglia stood in the center of the room, shifted his position a few times, cleared his throat, then asked me a pointed question. What time is it, Danny? Why? Well, no particular reason. This question was just an opening gambit for the conversation which is about to ensue. You tricked me, huh, Tataglia? But Danny, I've been standing right here before. You're trying to catch your attention for 10 minutes as the crow flies. Okay, what is it? Reports gathered from hither and yon into the Hair to witness. The boys from Technical are even now examining the clothes of Elaine Hill for possible clues as to the reason for her decease. Go on. In the matter of Milburn Jeffrey, the leather goods salesman apprehended at the scene of the crime. Also, to wit, he is now under the excellent care of Dr. Sinsky. Oh, what's the matter with Milburn Jeffries? The occupational disease of all those who are arrested as suspects for murders. He's screaming to let him out of jail. He's screaming he ain't guilty. He's screaming he's a victim of cruel fate. So the other tenants are complaining about all this screaming. So between Jeffrey screaming and the others complaining, our pokey is indeed a veritable mishmash. Uh huh. Now tell me what's news about Fred Chandler of Fred Chandler the bellhop? I have the following report. Fred Chandler has been employed at his current place of business for nigh on to six years. No complaints as far as can be determined. His story checks. And his girlfriend from the cigar counter, Annalee, to wit Annalee is his girlfriend, has enjoyed this status quo for nigh on to two years. One more item, Titaglia. What about the owner of the perfume shop? His name is Nicky Laszlo Tartagla. Laszlo spent his time amongst the perfume at the Time of the crime, check. But I know something maybe you don't know, Danny. Like what? Elaine Hill shared an apartment with a lady who ran the photography salon at the hotel. A lady named Millie Star. Did you know that, Danny? Goodbye to Taglia at the photographer's salon. They told me. Millie was on the hotel roof taking publicity stills. On the hotel roof, Millie was doing just that. A small camera dangled from her throat, and her mouth was full of pins. A tall girl, shivering in a swimsuit or rompers or something or other had her back to her, and Millie was pinning up something or other. Tuck here, tuck there. Three other models tried to arrange their photogenic little features on the cold asphalt of the rooftop. They were outfitted for a summer in the city on top of a hotel. One strummed a badminton racket, the other waved a canoe paddle. And the third ran languid fingers through the hair of a wax dummy dressed in McGregor clan shorts and McTavish clan dinner jacket. When the dummy turned out to be a man, I thought it was time to break it up, which I did by tapping Millie on the shoulder. Whoever you are, go away. We're busy. Okay, Teffy. You look real sexy. Now go drape yourself on a ledge and I'll shoot you from here. I'm from the police, Ms. Starr. Take the pins out of my mouth if you want to talk to me. Huh? Oh, yeah. Pardon me. Thanks. That's good, Taffy. Little more dreamy. That's it. That's it. I'll keep it. You take this reflector and hold it just like this. Huh? The reflector. The reflector. Like this? Oh. Like this. Ichi Keen. You were born to it, Taffy. Take a deep breath. Hold your stomach in. Good. Now relish it. Got it. Now dream somebody else. Maybe you didn't hear me, Millie. I said I was from the police. Here'd you get into your uniform and I'll take your picture. You can put the reflector down now. Thanks. Elaine Hill. Millie. They tell me you shared an apartment with her. Podbean. 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. It's true that some things Change as we get older. But if you're a woman over 40 and you're dealing with insomnia, brain fog, moodiness and weight gain, you don't have to accept it as just another part of aging. And with MITI health, you can get help and stop pushing through it alone. The experts at MIDI understand that all these symptoms can be connected to the hormonal changes that happen around menopause. And MITI can help you feel more like yourself again. Many healthcare providers aren't trained to treat or even recognize menopause symptoms. MIDI clinicians are menopause experts. They're dedicated to providing safe, effective, FDA approved solutions for dozens of hormonal symptoms, not just hot flashes. Most importantly, they're covered by insurance. 91% of midi patients get relief from symptoms within just two months. You deserve to feel great. Book your virtual visit today@joinmidi.com that's joinmidi.com Take a break, slaves. You may smoke. That's right. It's just what you think. The law wants me for murder. Want me for murder, Mr. Policeman? Maybe. But first, let's just talk about Elaine. Been trying not to do that. I've been trying not even to think about it. Why, Millie? Tell me why. Because you're a policeman. You think you understand. I can try. Try hard, Mr. Policeman. How do I tell you what Elaine was to me? A child. Like a daughter. Sometimes, you know, there's nothing written down anywhere that gives you the right to probe into me like this. We want Elaine's murderer. You want that too, don't you? That'll bring her back. You're making me an offer. Catch the murderer. And that'll bring Elaine back. How long did you know her? Not long enough. She came to me about six months ago. Wanted to be a model. I wanted to help her. She liked my apartment and I invited her to stay with me. And she got tired of modeling. Wanted to work steady, she said. So I got her the job in Laszlo's perfume shop. Maybe I shouldn't have done that. Why do you say that? She hadn't worked there a week when she started getting lettuce. That's unusual. Not for a beautiful girl like Elaine. You know the kind of letters. Anonymous words written in basic English. Some circles I hear they call them love letters. You saw them? No. Elaine always burned them and washed her hands. You didn't try to trace them? Didn't report them? No, that was my fault. I told Elaine it wasn't important. Told her it was a kind of flattery. She was so Lovely. The postmark. You must have seen that. Where were they from? From this hotel. Hotel stationary, you think? Call your slaves back, Millie, or you'll run out of daylight. Hey, Danny. Hey, Danny. Yeah. Hey, Danny. Danny. Okay, okay, here I am. What, do you want to tag there? I'm in a hurry. Ooh. Huh? Ooh, I'm catching my breath. I'm glad I caught you, Danny. John, Gordon and Technical's been buzzing your phone all the time you are out. Let's go find out what he wants. Did he tell you what he wants? No. Just called. I answered the phone. He said, was you there? I said, no. He hung up. I've been spending half the afternoon listening to a stupid conversation like that. Come on. Hello, Gordon. Something I can do for you, Lieutenant? But Taglia said you've been trying to get in touch with me. Well, now, am I going to have trouble with you, Gordon? Why is it you're never around, Lieutenant? What do you do all day long? You've been calling to find that out, huh? I'll tell you why I've been calling. Here, look at this. Go ahead, read it. So? It's an autopsy report from Dr. Sinski on Elaine Hill. I've already seen it, Gordon, and I know it almost by heart. This part of it here. Right here. Elaine Gordon was 5 foot 3, blonde hair, no birthmarks, weight 119. My congratulations on your memory. You really proved it to me. Then why did you send these dresses down here? For usual reasons. Follow standard operating procedure Kit. Maybe you'll come up with an interesting fact that'll tell me why Elaine Hill was killed. These are not Elaine Hill's clothes. Somebody on your detail loused up, Lieutenant. I thought you should know. Somebody mixed up somebody's clothes with Elaine Hill's clothes. These dresses on my desk would fit a woman who weighed about 160, I'd say. Would be about 5:1, I'd say. What are you talking about? Don't make me repeat myself. These dresses cannot belong to Elaine Hill. Who brought these dresses back to headquarters? Tartaglia. Officer Florio. Danny, get him. Get him quick. Battaglia did. In 10 minutes, Florio was standing in the middle of my office, wiping a crumb off his chin. He was just having a bite, he told me at the hamburger stand across the street. Yes, he'd packed Elaine's clothes all himself, neatly. No, he hadn't stopped anywhere for a bite or for anything. He brought the suitcase with the clothes, right to headquarters, right to Technical, as I ordered. I thanked him, sent him Back to finish his bite. Got on the phone. Someone else had handled Elaine's clothes. I needed to talk to him. At the hotel, they told me he wasn't in try his rooming house. I did. At his rooming house, they told me he wasn't in try Annalee's rooming house. I did. On the fourth floor landing, I heard the sobs that came from Anna's room. I knocked. No one answered, so I walked in. You knocked, Clover, that was nice of you. But walking in. How do you know what can happen if you just walk in? What's the matter, Anna? Why are you crying? Because. Because I'll tell you. Because, Clover. Because I come to take her out. Dinner, a movie, dance, anything. A little heart desires. That's why she's crying. My little Anna is overcome with it all. Not that, Fred. You know it isn't that. I want you to look good, honey. I want to be proud of you. Walk into a restaurant, I want to be proud. Too much to ask. Get away from her, Fred. She's my girl. Club makes you jealous I'm so close to her. Get away from pleasure. Tell me why you're crying, Anna. Says he wants me to look good. You know how Mr. Clover, he brought over a girl's clothes. He wants me to put them on. He won't go out with me unless I put them on. He won't kiss me unless I put them on. Don't come near, Fred. The clothes. Where are they, Anna? Over there on the bed, wrapped in the newspapers. Elaine Hill's clothes, Fred. Dead girl's clothes. And you wanted me to put them on. Oh, Fred. Fred, what's the matter with you? What? Elaine's clothes, Fred. I bought them in a hawk shop for my girl Anna. Because Anna's my girl. I want it to look nice, to look classy, like a dream. Like Elaine. You couldn't get near Elaine, so you killed her. You wrote her letters and she never answered. So you killed her. And Joe Graham because he found out it was you who called Elaine to room 302. Was it like that, Fred? You're frauding at the brain, Clover. That makes you a mad dog. And the clothes. You stole them after you killed her. Because that was all of Elaine you could own. You stole them and palmed some others off from the police. They told me the girl was found in a salesman's room. I was there when they told me you put her there. You strangled her and put her there because you knew the door to Jeffrey's room was unlocked. That he was taking a shower and couldn't hear you. Anna. Give them to me. Give me your clothes. I'll show you how I wear them. France. I kill you. I've got you. The baseline. Drop a knife, Fred. Drop. No. No more killing, Fred. No more. You need me anymore tonight, Danny. Go home, Taglia. Come have dinner with us, Danny. With Mrs. Tartaglia, there's always plenty. Go home, Tartaglia. Yeah, Danny. Broadway. Where the April evening sighs down on the city like a phosphorescent dream. You walk it slowly because it's a twilight land. Then fingers claw at your elbow. A face leans close to yours and the words it whispers are a shriek. It's suddenly night and the world's exploded. It's Broadway, the gaudiest, most violent? The lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway. My beat. Broadway's my Beat. Stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. With Charles Calvert as Tartaglia. The program was produced and directed by Elliot Lewis. The musical score was composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. Included in the cast tonight were Virginia Gregg, Joyce McCluskey, Elliot Reed, Jack Crucian, Ed Max and Anthony Barret.