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Danger With Grainger xx-xx-xx (01) The FBI And The Scientist
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Danger With Grainger xx-xx-xx (01) The FBI And The Scientist
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Ch Ch. Chumba looking for excitement. Chumba Casino is here. Play anytime. Play anywhere. Play on the train. Play at the store. Play at home. Play when you're bored. Play today for your chance to win and get daily bonuses when you log in. So what are you waiting for? Don't delay. Chumba Casino is free to play. Experience social gameplay like never before. Go to Chumba Casino right now to play hundreds of games including online slots, bingo, Slingo and more. Live the chumba life@chumbacasino.com no purchase necessary VGW Group void where prohibited by law 21/ Terms and Conditions Danger with Granger Is that you, darling? You're home early. Yes, I know. Grace. Is dinner ready? I must eat quickly and get back to the laboratory. Robert Playfield. You've been at that laboratory every night for the past two weeks. Well, it can't be helped. I'm working on a very important project. What is this important project? I can't tell you. It's an extremely secret matter. May I go over to the laboratory with you? No, that's impossible. I'll be back around midnight. Robert. Now what is it now? I've told you all I'm going to. This note. I found it crumpled up in the wastepaper basket in your room. Grace, have you been snooping through my things? Yes, I have. And I think I'm entitled to an explanation. Just why would anyone write you a letter threatening to kill you? This is Steve Granger, private detective with a story about a well known scientist, the FBI and a worried wife. A combination which had me going dizzy. In just a moment, I'll take you back to one of my most interesting cases. This is Granger. It was. It was late afternoon when a woman walked into my office and identified herself as Mrs. Robert Playfield. She was a very beautiful woman in her middle 30s. And she was also very worried. Mr. Granger, I'm here because of my husband, Robert Playfield. You may have heard of him. He's the electronics expert. Yes, yes. Seems to me I've read about him in the papers. A lot of development work for the government. That's right. Mr. Granger, I have reason to believe that someone intends to kill my husband. A friend of mine recommended you as a capable man. I. I thought you could handle this matter. If I did, the first thing I'd do would be to check the FBI. Mr. Granger, I don't care how you handle this. I simply want my husband protected at any cost. Do I make myself plain? You certainly do. And I'll be Glad to help. But Mr. Granger, there's one thing to remember my husband is to know nothing about this. You understand? Nothing. As soon as Mrs. Playfield left, I picked up the phone and called a contact of mine at the FBI. This is Steve Granger. Say, is Pete around? Thanks. Hiya, Pete. What do you got in Robert Playfield, the electronics expert? Uh huh. I see you keeping an eye on him. Of course, I've got a reason for asking. His wife was just in here. She hired me to see he didn't get hurt. Sure, sure. Yeah, I'll be around. I hung up, got on my coat and beat it over to take a look at Dr. Playfield's laboratory. His research spot was on the lower west side. Located on an inconspicuous side street. It was as gloomy as the morgue. Even at this hour of the day the street was deserted except for a derelict who moved up to me. Hey, mister. What do you want? Can you spare two bits for something to eat? Two bits? What are you doing in this neighborhood? Looks like pretty poor pickings for a handout. I just happened to be here, that's all. Yeah, two bits. Thanks, mister. You're a real pal. I watched him shuffle off. He might have been a derelict, but I had a glimpse of sharp brown eyes peering at me from a decrepit old hat. I decided to check further on him. Hey, you. Wait. What do you want? Come back here. What's the matter? Okay, pal, get this. I'm a licensed private. I turn out your pockets. Want to find out who you are. I ain't done nothing missing. Turn out those pockets or I'll do it for you. Sure, sure, mister. Just a second. Haven't got a gun. At least me. I wouldn't know what to do with a gun. Come on, get going with the pockets. Oh, here, mister, half a loaf of bread. I got some sausage too. Got a wallet? Wallet? What would I do with a wallet? All I got is this dough. 60 cents. What's your name? Bill Walker. Where do you live, Senator? Hotel in the bar. Okay, let's go. Where? Never mind the questions. Let's go. I held on tight to the guy and called the FBI. Told him I'd found a character behaving suspiciously hanging around Playfield's laboratory. Then I waited till they showed up and took the derelict off for questioning. I went back to patrolling the street where Dr. Playfield had his laboratory to the point where my toes began to resemble frosted eclairs. Then I had an idea for a man to relieve me A taxicab driver, pal of mine named Frankie Smith. I used him occasionally on stakeouts of this kind. I got the hackie down to the corner of 11th Avenue and 12th Street. Told him what I wanted. After which I went uptown to my office and draped my lower extremities over a radiator. Three hours went by. Then the door opened. Hey, what are you doing up here? Frankie, I told you to keep an eye on Dr. Playfield. Granger, you're looking at what I term an abject failure. What happened? Well, like you tell me to, I watch Playfield's laboratory. I park my hack on the corner and when things get chilly I climb inside, toss my toy. Don't mind the build up. What happened? Well, I'm sitting in the car like I said. All of a sudden this man Playfield walks out his front door. He beats it down the street towards me. I'm lost. If I follow him, I have to leave my cab. Oh, you followed him in the cab? No, because when he gets to my corner, he motions me over. Now this looks good to me. So I accept this call. He tells me 55th street and 6th Avenue. Frankie, cut the verbosity. How did you lose Dr. Playfield? Simple. He climbs out of 55th and 6th Avenue. I run the cabin with hex stand and take out after him. I stayed glued to him. The coin of friends. Yeah, yeah, go on. Only I become unstuck. He walks into a drugstore through the only door. I wait outside. He comes charging out like a cat with a turpentine tail and brushes me off my feet. So by the time I recover, he is but gone. Well, that's just great. As a watchdog you're about as useful as a four week old kitten. Out. I didn't like the sound of it. If Frankie Smith hadn't been able to keep on Dr. Playfield's tail. There was something peculiar going on. Because Frankie was a good tailman, I decided to check. Dialed the doctor's number. He answered the phone himself. I muttered wrong number and hung up. So he's home, huh? Well, you sure got yourself into a panic for nothing. Zip your lip, my fancy friend. Here. This is Playfield's address out on Long Island. Get out there and keep an eye on the place all evening. I'll relieve you at 10 o'clock. Care to set your watch with mine? Get out there, I said. Okay, Simon, agree. I'm going. Frankie left the office. I grabbed myself a quick bite of food at a corner beanery, went back towards 11th Avenue and 12th Street. In the half gloom of early dusk, the laboratory looked even worse than during the daytime. I stopped at one of the windows, but the black paint on it eliminated any chance of looking inside. Then suddenly there was a voice from behind me. What's your name? Who are you? What are you doing down here? Why, Federal Bureau of Investigation. Oh, pardon me. Here is my card. Steve Granger. License number 2486. Okay, Granger. Do you know how it is? Forget it. What happened with that Bill Walker I had you fellas take downtown? I don't know. Pete was still interviewing him when I left. Anything stirring around here? Nothing except the wind. I wish that had died down. This was 10 o'clock on the nose. Time to relieve Frankie on watch. I'd got a cab ride out to the Playfield place. A large house set back from the street, looming like a white ghost in the night. Frankie's cab was down the street. It had been snowing. There was a kind of hushed quiet about the place. I circumnavigated the entire house looking for him. Through one window I could see Mrs. Playfield, plus a beautiful young girl. Plus a man who must have been Dr. Playfield himself. But no sign of Frankie Smith. Okay, mister, that's far enough. Put up your hands. Who? You? What's the idea of the gun? I'll ask the questions. What are you looking for? Maybe I forgot my lawnmower last summer. All right, funny man. March into the house, call the police and you can have a detective as a street man. Just a minute. Let me show you. Don't reach for anything. I'm only getting my identification here. Steve Granger, licensed private investigator. What's all this about? Why are you here? You know the Playfields? Yeah. Michael Grant, Dr. Playfield's assistant. I had a man watching this place. He seems to have disappeared. Came in that cab up the street. Have you seen him? I saw him standing by the cab some time ago. How'd you happen to come outside? We were playing cards off the Playfield. Went into the kitchen to make a drink. I forgot the card game and talked. I wanted a breath of fresh air. Thought I heard somebody. I wonder where Frankie could have gone to. Light enough to look for tracks. They'll be clear in the snow. Want to make a try? Come on. Here are some that don't belong to us. Yeah? Yeah. They lead over that way. Look. The tracks go around the back of the house. Yeah, see? Did you hear that? Yeah, I hear. If it's what I think it is, then somebody's gonna have to pay for it and plenty. That groan sounding on the winter night gave me one chill feeling. If anything had happened to Frankie Smith, there was going to be a mighty big blow up. And I was feeling like just the boy to press the switch. In just a minute, I'll bring you the climax of the case. When we heard the groan coming from the back of the Playfield house, Michael Grant and I crunched fast through the snow. All the time I couldn't help a feeling of apprehension. And then we saw it. The figure behind the wood box. As we raced up, I recognized Frankie Smith trying hard to raise himself onto his feet. Frankie, are you all right? Oh, my head. Who hit you? You think I got eyes in the back of my head? Well, they came up from behind you, huh? Oh, yeah. Well, come on. I better get you to a doctor. Grant and I loaded Frankie into his cab and I drove him to a doctor. While the medico was making his checkup, I called Cal Hendricks. Step into the world of power, loyalty and l luck. I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse. With family. Cannolis and spins mean everything. Now you want to get mixed up in the family business? Introducing the godfather@champacasino.com test your luck in the shadowy world of the Godfather slots. Someday I will call upon you to do a service for me. Play the Godfather now@Champacasino.com Welcome to the family. No purchase necessary. VGW Group void. We're prohibited by law 21 + terms and conditions apply. If you're a maintenance supervisor for a commercial property, you've had to deal with everything from leaky faucets to flickering light bulbs. But nothing's worse than that ancient boiler that's lived in the building since the day it was built 50 years ago. It's enough to make anyone lose their cool. That's where Grainger comes in. With industrial grade products and dependable, fast delivery, Grainger can help with any challenge, from worn out components to everyday necessities. Call clickgrainger.com or just stop by Grainger for the ones who get it done. Hi, Steve. How's the man and murder business? Save the comedy for your newspaper pals, will ya? Listen, Cal, call the FBI for me, will you? Sure, Stevie. What's up? Just ask for Pete and ask him to run a quick check on a man named Michael Grant. He's a sort of assistant to Dr. Robert Playfield. Playfield? The electronics man? Yeah, yeah. Look, do you have to ask so many questions? How do you think I make a Living. I know how you make a living, my friend. Out of my sweat and tears, I got myself beaten up regularly. And you get the story. Well, one of us has got to come out with something. Get onto the FBI calm and tell them to call you back. I'll drop by and find out what they tell you. Okay, Stevie. Oh, one thing. Yeah? Don't be too careful in dark alleys, will you? Give the hoods an even break. Otherwise, I don't eat this week. I hung up and went back to the doc who was patching up Frankie Smith. The cabbie was okay, so we got back into his taxi and he dropped me off at my place the following morning. I was in my office bright and early. I checked with Cal Hendricks, found the FBI had given Michael Grant a clean bill of health. Then I got my first surprise of the day. Dr. Robert Playfield walked in and started talking without preamble. You are Steve Granger, are you not? I am Dr. Playfield, Mr. Granger. My wife has told me about employing you. At first, I was inclined to be angry at her interference. But when I remembered what happened last night, I agreed with her. What happened last night? It was at our place in Long Island. First I noticed a taxi parked up the street. The driver was watching the house. Later, Michael Grant went outside. He was gone for some time. When he returned, he was quite evasive. Michael Grant? He's been my laboratory assistant lately. However, just recently, I've begun to distrust him. Why? Well, I can't tell you precisely. It's just a feeling. He's too curious about my work. He snoops around. He gets into things that are confidential. Frankly, my work is highly secret. If this invention were to fall into the wrong hands, it would be disastrous. Do you want me to accompany you to the laboratory? Oh, that won't be necessary. However, my wife is giving a costume party tonight. One she's planned for months. In spite of being extremely busy, I have agreed to be there. I want you there. Two. What time the party gets underway? At eight. I'll be there at seven. Hiya, Granger. What'd you phone me for? Go to a party, Frankie, my boy. Party. It's right down my alley to Dr. Playfield's house. Oh, I better wear an iron skull cap. You're going as a clown. Here's your costume. A clown? Hey, now, don't get huffy. I'm going as one, too. And hurry up. We haven't got much time. Hey, I don't get this business about both of us wearing the same costume. Hey, Do I have to wear the mask that goes with it? You certainly do. There might be a time during the evening when I'd like to have somebody think you were me. Uh. Oh, I just know I'm gonna get it in the head again. Mr. Granger, I'm. I'm so glad you could come. Evening, Mrs. Playfield. May I present Frankie Smith? How do you do? Hiya. He's acting as my assistant. Oh. Oh, come in, please, darling. Mr. Granger's here. Oh, glad to have you. Granger. Granger. My suspicions regarding Grant are becoming stronger every minute. Please be very alert. This evening, Dr. Robert Playfield was attired in a fake suit of armor. That added a grotesque note to the conversation. The guests began arriving, 18 in all. Grant was there in costume. Also a girl I'd seen at this house the night before. Her name was Linda Miller. Her job, Playfield's private secretary. A while later, Dr. Playfield motioned to me and I followed him. What's wrong? Dr. Playfield? Close the door, please. This morning I told you that I'd been working on a very hush hush device for the government. It happens to be an improvement on the present guided missile. I have developed a new electronic follower, the performance of which has amazed everybody. What I didn't tell you this morning is that I have been approached several times by other interests. How were these approaches made? Telephone calls, letters and so forth. Recently, these people, whoever they are, have become more than insistent. This is the latest threat. I just found it on my desk. You have one hour in which to make up your mind. You found this on the desk? You don't know how it got there? No. I'm afraid, Dr. Playfield, that this is out of my hands. I'm telephoning the FBI. I told Playfield to rejoin his guests and say nothing. Then I suited my action to my words. It took me almost a half hour to find Pete the federal man and make my report. I barely hung up when I heard it. I was out of that study and into the living room quicker than a dog after a bone. All right, who screamed here? Mr. Granger. In the alcohol, the guy in armor. Dr. Playfield stabbed. He's. He doesn't seem to be any pots. Let me lift his visor. But that's Michael Grant. Yeah, but how did he get into your husband's costume? I don't know. Robert was wearing it when he was here. A little while ago. I heard a lot of commotion in here. Granger, what's going on? Frankie, where have you been? What's the matter with you? I feel awful. Sleepy Granger. Awful. You've been drinking. With whom? Not a nice girl. Linda Miller. Awful nice girl. She gave you this drink? Yeah. You'll lie down. Is he drunk? Hardly. Somebody gave him a mickey. You mean poison? Knockout drops. Now, look. Herd these guests into the other room. Nobody is to leave the house. I'll put Frankie on this couch and. Mrs. Playfield. Yes? Tell your husband I want to see him right away. Mrs. Playfield did as I asked. I hoisted the unconscious Frankie Smith onto a couch. This room, like most of the others, had a telephone. I called the local police first, the FBI second. I just hung up when I saw a figure outside the house holding up a tree. I slipped out the back door. All right, put up your hands. Now, listen here. Stand still. Well, if it isn't Bill Walker, recently of the Bowery. You've got me wrong. Oh, no, I haven't. You're wearing a better suit of clothes and a nicer overcoat. But those eyes I couldn't miss. You're wrong. No, I'm not. Just to play it safe, walk into that garage, I gotta tie you up for safekeeping until the law shows up. You're not doing anything of the kind. Think not. I dragged Bill Walker into the garage, found a length of clothesline and tied him up. Then I went back to the house looking for two missing people. Linda Miller, the doctor's secretary, and Robert Playfield himself. Granger. Well, Dr. Playfield, where have you been? I went downstairs for a few more bottles. Grace just told me about poor Michael. This is terrible. Whoever killed him must have thought he was me. How'd you happen to change costumes? Well, we were going to play a little joke on Grace, my wife. How about a drink? I could use one. So could I. But first, where's your secretary, Linda Miller? In the room with the other people. Know where she was when the knifing took place? In the cellar with me. I see. Let's go into my study. Right. Do you have any suspicions about who did the killing? Not at the moment. Here, take this drink. I'll be right back. I want to see how Grace is feeling. I took a swig of the drink Playfield handed me as he left the room but didn't swallow it. I got rid of it in a flower pot, wincing a bit as I tasted the drug in it. Then I decided to play along, see what went on. That's Mr. Granger. Is he one of them too? Yes, he is. Linda, I found out that he and that Frankie Smith Are after my invention. They're both spies. What are you gonna do with them? Turn them over to the police when they arrive. Now run along. Very well. And don't say a word to anyone. All right, I won't. I lay in a semi recumbent position pretending to be unconscious. Dr. Playfield waited a long second and pulled a revolver out of his pocket and moved towards me. He held the gun in a towel to deaden the sound. Dr. Playfield, I wanted to tell you that. What are you doing with that gun? He might come to and get violent. Now, now, please stay out of here. You were gonna shoot him, weren't you? I'm going out until. Oh, no. You're keeping that pretty mouth shut. That guy. You're choking me. What if I feel greater? I thought you hung. Sorry to disappoint you. Why you older Playfield. What? I'm Carlson, Federal Bureau of Investigation. You're under arrest for the murder of a federal agent. No. Well, friends, that's the story. I'll be back to wrap up the case in just a minute. The man in the doorway was the same one who'd been guarding Robert Playfield's laboratory in downtown New York. His bullet took the doctor through the shoulder. After medical treatment, Playfield was taken to the city for booking. The FBI man, Carlson filled in matters for me. We couldn't afford to have you know the truth, Granger. We've been suspicious of Playfield for a long time. We planned a grant on the lab to keep an eye on him. Grant had found out that Playfield was dealing with a subversive group. That's why Playfield killed him. What about those threatening letters? Ah, Playfield planted those himself. He was due for a big payoff tomorrow. Then he was gonna disappear. And his secretary, Linda Miller? Playfield, Fool. She's innocent. Even though she did feed Frankie Smith knockout drops. I guess I wasn't much of help. But you were, Granger. When Mrs. Playfield employed you as a guard, it brought matters to a head. At least that's a minor comfort. I imagine it was Playfield who slugged Frankie the night before. It must have been. Well, where ends that well? There's only one more thing. What? One of our undercover men was assigned to watch this house. He's disappeared. Say, would he be the guy I spotted in front of Playfield's lab? A guy whose name should be Bill Walker? Yeah. Why? I discovered him on the prowl outside. I thought he was one of the spy ring. When he got tough, I slugged him, dragged him into the garage and tied him up. Walker. Oh brother, is that funny. Look, I'll see you later. What's your hurry? I just don't want to be around when you untie him. Steve Granger again? You just heard one of the most interesting cases in my files. I'll have another one for you, so be around next time. How to have fun anytime, anywhere step one go to chumbacasino.com chumbacasino.com Got it. Step two collect your welcome Bonus. Come to papa. Welcome Bonus Step 3 Play hundreds of casino style games for free. That's a lot of games all for free. Step 4 Unleash your excitement. Woo hoo. Chumba Chumba Casino has been delivering thrills for over a decade. So claim your free welcome bonus now and live the chumba life. Visit chumbacasino.com no purchase necessary vgw group void where prohibited by law 21 + terms and conditions apply if you're a maintenance supervisor for a commercial property, you've had to deal with everything from leaky faucets to flickering light bulbs. But nothing's worse than that ancient boiler that's lived in the building since the day it was built years ago. It's enough to make anyone lose their cool. That's where Granger comes in. With industrial grade products and dependable, fast delivery, Granger can help with any challenge, from worn out components to everyday necessities. Call clickgranger. Com or just stop by Granger for the ones who get it done.