Danger With Grainger xx-xx-xx (07) Coincidental Cartoon

Summary

Podcast Summary: Harold’s Old Time Radio — "Danger With Grainger (07) Coincidental Cartoon"

Main Theme:
This episode of Harold’s Old Time Radio showcases an episode of Danger with Grainger, a detective drama from the Golden Age of Radio. In "Coincidental Cartoon," private investigator Steve Granger is drawn into a tangled web of murder, embezzlement, and double-crosses involving a comic strip artist whose real-life troubles mirror the plots of his own comics.

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Plot Overview

Steve Granger, PI, is hired by comic strip artist Keith Leffert, who fears he’s being framed for the murder of his brother Calvin. Eerily, the murder matches a scene from Leffert's own comic series, raising suspicions and drawing Granger into a criminal underworld entangled with gambling debts, a femme fatale, and a deadly conspiracy to make life imitate art.

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Key Discussion Points & Story Developments

1. The Case Begins: A Body and a Comic Strip

• [02:00] The episode opens with two tugboat workers discovering a body tied with a life belt in the Hudson River:
  • "He never put this life belt on himself. Somebody else did that. Take a look at his head. Hey, this guy was murdered."
• Granger introduces the case: a comic strip artist linked to a murder resembling his own fictional work.

2. Meeting Keith Leffert: Fear and Coincidence

• [03:15] Leffert bursts into Granger’s office, panicked over being suspected for his brother's murder, especially since the crime matches that day's Kirk Patrol comic.
  • Quote: “As soon as they see the paper, they come looking for me and I'll be accused of murder. I didn't do it, you understand?” – Keith Leffert

3. Comic Strip as Murder Blueprint

• [04:25] The comic’s plot mirrors the actual crime — even the distinctive manner of death. Granger suspects someone is using the advance comic plot as a template for real-life crime.
  • Quote: “In the comics, the Coast Patrol had found exactly what the tugboat man had really found on the Hudson river this morning…”

4. Alibi – Or Lack Thereof

• [06:25] Leffert claims an alibi but it's shaky; the person he was supposed to visit in New Jersey denies arranging the meeting. Granger is almost run down by a car, suggesting someone is trying to silence him.

5. The Leffert Household and Underworld Ties

• [08:13] Granger meets Rosa, Leffert’s wife — sophisticated and evasive. Leffert reveals his brother’s debt to a club owner, Andrew Steed.

6. Pressure Mounts: Police, Club Owners, and Threats

• [09:40] Police question Leffert; Rosa remains skeptical of Granger’s protection. Granger visits "The Padlock Club," owned by Steed, who claims innocence but grows nervous when Granger brings up the murder.
• [12:10] Granger receives direct threats to stay away—“Stay away from Keith Leffert. Something will happen to you...”

7. Attempted Hits and Kidnapping

• [13:30] Granger is ambushed after questioning Steed and knocked unconscious. He awakes confined in a “sanitarium” — a setup to remove him from the case.

8. Escaping and Unraveling the Case

• [17:00] Granger escapes and discovers the car that tried to run him down belongs to Steed.
• [18:30] The next day, Granger learns Keith Leffert is found dead, an apparent suicide, matching the next day’s comic plot.

9. Clues and Confrontation

• [22:46] Granger discovers duplicates of the advance comic strip in Steed’s apartment and uncovers that Rosa is a skilled artist who could forge Leffert’s signature.
  • Quote: “You signed that death note, Mrs. Leffitt. You made that duplicate of the sheet of comics. I think perhaps you'll be under suspicion of murder.”

10. The True Motive and Culprits

• [24:30] The truth unravels: Rosa was the gambler, had her brother-in-law get money for her, then conspired with Steed when their scheme was threatened. The comic strip was used for alibi and framing.

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Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

• [03:25] Granger to Leffert:
  “First, who are you? Then second, who was murdered? Third, why is anybody going to say you did it?”
• [10:29] Granger to Rosa Leffert:
  “I have a feeling that right now your husband would be better off in jail.”
• [12:46] Mobster’s warning:
  “Stay away from Keith Leffert. Something will happen to you. Like being run down by another car? How'd you ever guess?”
• [23:12] Granger on comic strip evidence:
  “I found a duplicate of that particular sheet in Andrew Steed's apartment.”
• [25:22] Granger’s closing revelation:
  “Mrs. Leffitt was the real gambler...they got together and plotted both killings, using the comic strip to make it look like Keith Leffitt had murdered his brother and then killed himself following the action of his own story.”

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Important Timestamps

• [00:50] Body discovered on tugboat
• [03:00-06:00] Leffert consults Granger; the comic evidence is revealed
• [10:00] Granger meets Rosa Leffert
• [13:30] Attempt on Granger’s life; kidnapping and escape
• [18:45] News of Keith Leffert’s suicide
• [22:46-24:30] Final confrontation, case resolution

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Tone & Style

• Classic hardboiled noir: quick, cynical banter, and punchy narration.
• Granger remains wry and unflappable, even in danger.
• Rosa is presented with archetypal "femme fatale" glamour and ambiguity.

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Conclusion

In “Coincidental Cartoon,” Danger with Granger delivers a layered and suspenseful whodunit set in a bygone era where criminal conspiracies are as plausible as the tales in the daily comics. Steve Granger’s persistence and detective acumen cut through a web of deceit involving a murdered artist, a gambling wife, and a cold-hearted club owner — all while dodging threats, kidnapping, and attempted murder. The twist: crime follows art, and the clues lie within the very comics that made the artist famous.

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For fans of hardboiled detective tales or lovers of old radio drama, this episode brings together sharp plotting, noir atmosphere, and a genuinely clever mystery.

Transcript

[A]

Limu. Emu and Doug Limu and I always tell you to customize your car insurance and save hundreds with Liberty Mutual. But now we want you to feel it. Cue the Emu music. Limu. Save yourself money today. Increase your wealth. Customize and save. We save. That may have been too much feeling. Only pay for what you [e-mail] Liberty Liberty. Liberty. Liberty Savings vary underwritten by Liberty Mutual Insurance Company and affiliates Excludes Massachusetts Danger with Granger. What is a cold day? Bill? Yeah, someday I'm gonna get off this old tugboat and find myself a nice job ashore inside some central heated office. Ye. I used to say that. Well, lookit, here I am, still working the tugboat. Girl, I'm going to part. Hey, Bill, come here, quick. What's the matter? Come here, I said. What goes on? Take a look over the port side. You tell me. Am I going nuts or something? Holy smoke. You see the same thing I do. That looks like a pair of legs sticking up out of the water. Oh, he's two. You get that bulldog on the four sides? Yeah. Richard, just flash the stern. Go in the reverse. Right. Okay. Okay. Hold it. I got him. Get out here. Give me a hand. Okay. One, two, three. Right. Get a load on that guy. Should have told me he put a life belt around the waist, not around the ankle. Yeah, he did, huh? He is. He never put this life belt on himself. What? Somebody else did that. Take a look at his head. Hey, this guy was murdered. This is Steve Granger, private detective with a story about a comic strip artist who got himself involved in a situation which didn't prove so comic. In Just a moment, I'll take you back to one of my most interesting cases. This is Granger. I was sitting in my office where a radiator was giving off some of that heat that's so popular on wintry days. Business has been slower than a Fifth Avenue bus in a blizzard. And I was thinking of locking up shop and taking the afternoon off when the man rushed in. If you're a Steve Granger, you ought to do something for me right away. Slow down to the walk, mister. They're after me. They're going to find me. Do. I'll be accused of murder. What murder? Who are you? As soon as they see the paper, they come looking for me and I'll be accused of murder. I didn't do it, you understand? As soon as you can tell me a couple of things. Well, go ahead. If you can't, I'll throw you out. You're making Me? Nervous? All right. Yeah. All right. What do you want to know? That's a good question. First, who are you? Then second, who was murdered? Third, why? Is anybody going to say you did it? Very well. My name is Keith Leppert. Number two, please look at this newspaper. Right there. The crew of the tugboat Mary J. Found the body of Calvin Leffert floating downstream in the Hudson River. When the body was hauled aboard, they found that a life belt had been tied around the ankles. The ankles? What kind of routine is that? Keep on reading. At the morgue, it was found that Leffitt had died of drowning. But suspicion arose when a bruise bad enough to cause a fracture was found in his forehead. What relation is the dead man to you? He's my brother. And when the police start checking, they'll be sure I did it and I'll be locked up. Why? Turn the paper to the comic section? Comic section? Go on, go on. Okay. Now what? Look at today's Kirk Patrol comic strip. I bent an eye over the pictures and got a surprise. In the comics, the Coast Patrol had found exactly what the tugboat man had really found on the Hudson river this morning. Then I looked at the artist's name and got another surprise. You see now? So you're the man who draws this trip? Yes. Notice the identical way in which the man in the comic strip dies. I do. The police will find out about this. When they do, they're with me. Did you kill your brother? No. How far in advance you draw this? Coast Patrol? I see four to five weeks ahead. And you think that somebody might have got hold of the Coast Patrol and killed your brother the same day the story appeared? What else can I think? Who can take a look at your stuff before it's published? Dozens of people. The syndicate people, newspaper employees, my servants. And that bothers me too. Why? In tomorrow's issue, the leader of the gang is killed. At that time, evidence is produced that proves that the second dead man killed the first. And you think that'll happen to you? I'm convinced of it. I met a few comic strip artists in the time but Keith Leffert took the first prize. He was nervous as a landlord at a rent control meeting. I promised to look into the matter, sent him on his way and took a trip down to police headquarters to find out what I could about the murdered man. After that, I called Leffert. I had a question to ask him and hoped he would give me the right answer. Hello? Oh, is Mr. Leffitt there? Oh, who is this calling? My Name is Granger. Very important that I speak to him. Oh, very well. One moment, please. Hello? Leffitt? Mrs. Granger? Yes. Yes. The police have estimated that your brother's body was put in the river about 9 this morning. Oh. No alibi for that time? No. Where were you? In Jersey. Why Jersey? I got a telephone call at 8 o'. Clock. It was supposed to have been from an artist who does my fill in work. He told me the stuff was ready. Why didn't he come to Manhattan? He's an invalid. In that case, you've still got an alibi. Leffert. That's just it. When I got over to Jersey, the man wasn't home. When Keith Leffert gave me the crippled man's telephone number I hung up, dialed the man and checked on the story of the Jersey trip. The man denied having called Leppitt and certainly had not seen him. I walked out of the drugstore where I'd made the call and moved towards a corner, intending to flag down a cab. As the light changed, I stepped across the street. Something made me look to the right. A car was running through the light, directly at me. I'll continue with this interesting story in a minute. As the car rode towards me, I threw myself back to the shoulder of the sidewalk. My body hit the ground. I felt my foot just scrape the side of the car as it went past and disappeared. I barely escaped from a deliberate rundown. I stood for a while, getting my breath back, then hailed the cab and went to see the nervy comic Strabadis. He showed me into his study and I told him two things. One, the guy he claimed had called him to Jersey denied having done it. Two, the attempt on my life. But that's. That's terrible. Are you sure it was you they tried to run down? I was the only one crossing the street. Granger, this is making me more worried than ever. How about a drink? I could sure use one. I'll ring for the maid. I watched Leffitt move around restlessly, picking at this, moving that, snapping his fingers. Then the door opened. This woman was no maid. She was tall, the statuesque type with dark red hair that flimmered like copper and that moon dress. The party type didn't do her any harm either.

[B]

I heard the bell, darling, and played myself. What do you want?

[A]

A couple of drinks over. Oh, this is Steve Granger, a private detective. This is my wife, Rosa. How do you do?

[B]

Keith, what in the world are you doing with a private detective?

[A]

He's going to be My bodyguard.

[B]

But I thought the police did those things.

[A]

They do, darling. But I want someone around all the time. I'm afraid something might happen to you. Really?

[B]

Keith Calvin's death has upset you more than I thought.

[A]

Yes, it has.

[B]

Well, I'm glad to know, Mr. Granger. Even under these most unusual circumstances.

[A]

All right, Mrs. Le. I was just going to ask your husband if he had any idea why someone would want to kill his brother. You'd better tell him, Rosa.

[B]

I'll get the drinks. What should it be, Mr. Granger?

[A]

Scotch.

[B]

Rye or gin?

[A]

Scotch, please, and on the rock.

[B]

I'll be right back.

[A]

Lovett. What's this about? Your brother. He owed money. A lot of money. To a man. What's a lot? 5,000. That's a lot. Tony. To whom did your brother owe this money? A man named Steed. Andrew Steed. He runs some kind of place. I see.

[B]

Keith, there's somebody here from the police department. He wants to talk to you.

[A]

Granger, will you stand by me? I've got a better idea. Talk to him. He wants to take you down to headquarters. Go along with no argument but Granger. Then get your attorney. He can get you out on the writ of habeas corpus. Okay. Yes. Now go talk to him.

[B]

Aren't you acting strangely, Mr. Granger? I thought my husband employed you to guard him.

[A]

I have a feeling that right now your husband would be better off in jail.

[B]

But he's not guilty of his brother's death.

[A]

Mrs. Leffitt. Is there a back way out of here?

[B]

There's that door there. It leads out into the hall.

[A]

Thanks. I'll see you later.

[B]

But you'll drink.

[A]

I'll have to see that later, too. I slipped out the side door, made my way back around towards the front of the building and the elevators. Then if an officer recognized me, at least I wouldn't be sneaking. I headed downtown to Cal Hendricks's place. And all the time I had the feeling I was being followed. But I couldn't spot my follower. Hiya, Stevie boy. You look kind of hot and bothered. Why shouldn't I? I was nearly kissed goodbye by a car which had lethal intention. Believe me, I've been sweating ever since. Well, it's one way to get warm these cold days. Hey, Cowell, what do you know about a fellow named Andrew Steed? Runs some kind of a joint? It's no joint. It's called the Padlock Club. One of those places where each customer has a key. Oh, yeah? Steed's a sharpie. He's never Been brought in by the police. But they have gambling they do. At least the words around on that. But Mr. Steed has never been caught. And from the bevy of legal lights he's got around him, probably never will be. Hendrik speaking. Yeah, he's here. For you. Who is it, ma'? Am? Don't recognize the voice. Hello? Granger? Yeah. Stay away from Keith Leffert. Something will happen to you. Like being run down by another car? How'd you ever guess? Hello? Hello? Hello? What was that? Some character handing out warnings. I see you, Cal. Can I see Mr. Steed? I most certainly am. Andrew Steed lived in an ultra ultra apartment in an ultra ultra section. I got past the doorman with no trouble. Ten floors higher up, I found myself at the Padlock Club owner's door. Who are you? What do you want? This is my busy day. I'm Steve Granger. I want to talk to Andrew Steed about a murder. What murder? Calvin Leffert. I'll see if the boss will talk to you or not. The door closed in my face. I tried to recall the voice on the telephone at Cal Hendricks'. And if it resembled this man's or not, I couldn't quite make it fit. The boss will give you five minutes. This is his busy day too. You don't know how grateful I am. Come on in. Here. Thanks a lot. Oh, I see. You're the boss. Andrew Steed in person. You said you wanted to talk about Leffert's murder, Granger. Why? Very simple, Steve. I could have had a rumor that you put the finger on Calvin Leffertt because he couldn't pay off $5,000 he owed you. Killing Calvin Leffert wouldn't get me back the money, you know. But it might intimidate a few others who owe you money too. Don't you think, Granger? I don't want to be linked with the Leffert killing. It's extremely bad for business. I didn't have anything to do with the killing. Did the police know anything about that 5,000 Calvin owed me? Not from me they don't. But I believe I have taken Keith down to headquarters. He could crack under questioning. He's plenty scared. Who else knows besides you and Keith Lifford? I couldn't say, and it isn't good. How much will you take to keep quiet about my connection? Not a cent. Steed, if you didn't have anything to do with Calvin Leffert's death, fine if you did. That's another thing. See you later, Steve. I Moved towards the elevators. Suddenly, that instinct told me to turn around. I did and ducked just in time. I hadn't got a good look at the gunman's position, but it could have been the doorway to Steed's apartment. What's going on out here? All right, Steed, hold it. You buster, get out of here. What's the matter with you? Let's see that gun you've got parked in your shoulder. Now, listen. Get it out. Okay. Here. This hasn't been fired. Here, take it back. All right, Granger. What was that for? You got a gun, Steed? Don't be ridiculous. What happened? Some joker took a potshot at me. Must have disappeared down this corridor. Granger, come inside a moment. Something I think you should know. Okay, what is it? Take him. Monty, upgrade. You take that gun of you out before you hurt yourself. What's this for, Steve? I've changed my mind about you, mister. I think perhaps you'd better be put on ice for a little while. Yeah, Yeah. I felt the impact of a gun butt behind my ear. So nine kinds of brilliance and promptly dived down into blackness. That's one of the disadvantages of my profession. Every hoodlum in town thinks of you as a nut to crack. In just a minute, I'll bring you the climax of the case. When I woke up after being slugged by Andrew Steed's sidekick. I had a splitting headache and felt like a bundle of laundry. When I looked around the globe, I found myself tied hand and foot in what was some kind of an oversized car canvas bag. I spent what must have been an hour or two in a vehicle that bounced along with gay abandon. I felt like I was living a chapter out of Keith Leopard's Coast Patrol. Then the vehicle stopped. All right, let's get him out of here. Right. I felt myself being lifted and carried. A door opened and shut, then another one. Is this a man? Yes. You know what to do? I do. Be sure and keep an eye on him. He gets violent occasionally. Then I heard a door shut, and in a moment, the canvas bag was undone and I was untied by a small, shifty looking character in a white coat. There, that's more comfortable, isn't it? If you're a doctor, Miss. Mister, you're gonna be in a jam for this caper. Now, now, don't get excited. The guy took off and locked the door. I looked around. I was in the cell, carefully petted. It didn't take much to figure that I was in a private institution and probably booked as A relative or friend of Andrew Steed's. I sat in the cell for an hour. Two, three. And through a barred window, I could see the day fading into night. Then I had a visitor. I thought you might like some food. Why, thanks a lot. I could use a bite. Very well. Here's the tray. I'm sure you'll be satisfied. Oh, tray. Your character. I looked down at the fallen man for a second. Then I went through him. Got a set of keys. I moved cautiously towards what I hoped was the front of the building. This was the office where I'd made my first exit from the laundry bag. This was the street, and I was free. But where was I? I jotted down the number of the building. An old house that had been converted to a sanitarium on the next corner. I got the name of the street from the sign. It was Cypress. I hailed a passing car. The driver took me to the local taxi stand. I was in a small town of New Jersey. I told the hackey to take me back to Manhattan. I stood at the door of Keith Leffitt's spot, pushing the bucket button. I waited five minutes, then 10. I bent an ear to the door and couldn't hear a sound. I left the building for a telephone booth and made a call to police headquarters. The headquarters man told me that Leffitt had been released after an hour of questioning. My next stop was Steed's apartment. I had a news flash for him in both hands. After five minutes, I gave it up and went back downstairs. The doorman remembered seeing Steve leave. His manservant had driven him away in a car, but when the doorman described it to me, sounded like the one that had tried to run me down. This was the entrance to Steed's club. The padlock, no doorknob was visible. Only a single keyhole, to which I had no key. Yeah, what do you want? I want to go inside. I've got a message from Mr. Steve. Where's your key? I haven't got a key. Then you don't get in. Maybe that's the way you feel about it. I stop it. Open up the hands. Okay, I said. Nobody gets in without a key, so blow. I moved away from the padlock club, getting the man's eyes on me. I stopped at an alley. I slayed a hunch and moved down towards where blackness shut out the street lights. There was a car parked here. Car that looked familiar. I reached inside and opened the glove compartment. The registration slip showed the car's owner as Andrew Steed. This was the car that tried to run me down. I let it go for the night, went back to my apartment planning unpleasant things for Steed the next day. Then I phoned Keith Lert with no results. At 9 the following morning, I reached outside my door, picked up the newspaper and saw the headlines. Keith Leffert was dead. I got into my clothes and made it to my pal Cal Hendricks. I had need of the newspaper man. Well, Steve, what now? Cal, take a look at this. Body of Keith Leffert, popular comic strip artist, was found in his apartment last night at midnight. Police say that Leffert committed suicide. He left one note to his wife. The contents were not developed. Now, turn up the comics section. Have a look. Even though it's comic strip, the gangster kills himself because of his brother's death a day earlier. That sort of looks like the long arm of coincidence, doesn't it? That sure does. You know, maybe Keith Leffitt killed his brother. He had no alibi for the time of his brother's death. Maybe he lived out his own story. Maybe. Maybe not. Cal, I'm going on to the morgue and get the whole story. Maybe your maybe not is correct. Maybe it is. Cut it out. Okay. What's the dope, officer? Mrs. Le telephoned us. She was at the opera when her husband killed himself. Oh. Leffert was lying on a davenport in the living room. Was fully dressed, even to an overcoat and a pair of gloves. Now, what about that note? Care to tell me what it says? It was written on his typewriter. Don't make fast guesses, Granger. He signed the note. The signature looks genuine. Go on. It just said something to the effect that he was responsible for his brother's death. That he couldn't afford to give him any more money. Oh. Think his death was murder like Carol Hendricks says? Maybe. Maybe not. I left police headquarters and went back uptown. My client was dead, and there really was no more reason for me to work on the case. Then I noticed the man following me. It was Andrew Steed's manservant, the one who'd helped me get into the sanitarium. I stopped off at a convenience store, phoned Cal Hendricks to tell him where I was going. Then I became as obvious as a strip tease on it in the night corner court. I wound up at Andrew Steed's floor. His man wasted no time. Okay, Granger, so you got out. I did. You were a chump to come back here. Inside. I've been waiting for this. Thanks for opening the door. I dragged the Unconscious hoodlum inside and went to work. Searching the apartment, I found something interesting. The whole page of the Coast Patrol comics. The page that showed how both crimes had been committed. I examined Keith Leopard's signature and got a hunch that the artists had not committed suicide. I called the newspaper syndicate that handled Leopard stuff and asked a question. I got an interesting answer. Now I needed to bluff my way through. This was the LE department.

[B]

You're a little late, Mr. Granger. My husband is dead.

[A]

I know.

[B]

Just let me alone.

[A]

Don't be in such a hurry, Mrs. Le. I want to ask you a question.

[B]

What?

[A]

Did Keith always make two copies of his advance comic strip?

[B]

Sometimes.

[A]

Did he make two copies of the sheet that showed both deaths?

[B]

Why do you ask?

[A]

Because the newspaper syndicate said that they'd received only one.

[B]

Is that unusual?

[A]

Yes, Because I found a duplicate of that particular sheet in Andrew Steed's apartment. Got anything to say, Mrs. Leopard?

[B]

What are you hinting at?

[A]

Syndicate said that you also are a fine artist. Both strip work and pen and ink drawings.

[B]

I don't know what you're talking about.

[A]

You signed that death note, Mrs. Levitt. You made that duplicate of the sheet of comics. I think perhaps you'll be under suspicion of murder.

[B]

But I was at the opera. I couldn't have shot him.

[A]

Perhaps not, but you know that Steed came up here, shot your husband, planted the suicide notes you wrote Granger. Yeah.

[B]

I've got money now. He's left quite a bit.

[A]

You'll give it to me if I keep my mouth shut, I'll tell you the whole story. Implicating me, Rosa, dear Andrew. Hold it, Steed. Not this time, Granger. Well, friends, that's the story. I'll be back to wrap up the case in just a minute. I took Andrew's Steed through the shoulder, after which I called homicide and gave them the news. A police car called at the Leffer Department, took us all down to police headquarters where the rest of the story was filled in. Later, I answered a query or two from Cal Hendricks. Oh, come on, Steve, let's hear. Was the old story, Cal? Mrs. Leffitt was the real gambler at Andrew Steed's spot. She was afraid to ask her husband for the money, so she persuaded the younger brother, Calvin into doing it for her. Nice woman. Then when the kid brother got tough and said he was going to tell keith the truth, Mrs. Leffitt got scared and told Steed. How did he get involved? Steve wasn't worried about the money, Fell in love with Mrs. Leffert they got together and plotted both killings, using the comic strip to make it look like Keith Leffitt had murdered his brother and then killed himself following the action of his own story. What about the rundown and the shot in the hole? Steed's man did the rundown. Steed himself fired the shot. I didn't search him, so I didn't find that out. Well, you sure have had to chase around to earn that fee, haven't you, Steve? You said it. Hey, why's it matter? I just realized that this is one time when I don't get a fee. My client's dead. There's no one to collect from. How do you like that? All that work in Omazooma. Steve Granger again. You just heard one of the most interesting cases in my files. And I'll have another one for you, so be around next time.