
Johnny Madero, Pier 23 47-06-26 (10) Fatal Auction
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A
Foreign. Madero, pier 23. You know, it doesn't pay to buy a fast car in San Francisco. Because most of the time you got to be in low gear. The town is laid out like the profile of a chorus line. And the only time it flattens out is where it runs into the bay. The waterfront goes from south of the Ferry Building out past the China Docks. And on a clear day you can see them batting baseballs. Over on Alcatraz, Pier 23 is over toward the left field sign. Not far from there you'll find Johnny Madero's Boat Shop. My place. I rent boats and I do anything else. That means long odds and short hours. It's a way to make a living. And if you never save enough to get married, at least you got enough to leave town. Maybe I should have left town. Monday afternoon I bought a paper and I read about a buildup on a heavyweight fight in L. A. I stopped in at lofties and the boy said neither one of those fighters could beat an egg with a power drill. About three o' clock I started down Post street when I spotted a new auction. House was small with enough dough changing hands to buy back Manhattan Island. Inside it was packed and up on a wooden stand a bald headed guy was selling everything but his suspenders. So I sat down and back and I noticed a girl standing up against the wall. She was wearing dark green sunglasses, but the rest of her was just about as secret as a plow on the bathroom floor. Her hair was the color of half past midnight and her dress was made of the kind of goods you buy from spiders. After a while she walked over to me. Right away she started getting nervous. When you look like her, you got a right to be.
B
Mind if I sit down?
A
Your legs, lady. If you want to rest them. Rest of me.
B
Thanks. You seem to like the view.
A
Just temporary. I'm leaving.
B
Will you get excited if I ask you to stay?
A
Are you gonna be proud if I do?
B
Please, I want you to do me a favor. It won't take long. It'll be a small one.
A
How small?
B
They're gonna auction off a black leather suitcase in a few minutes. It belongs to me. I must have it back.
A
Can you speak the language? Do your own bidding.
B
I don't want someone to know I'm here.
C
It's important.
B
I'll pay you $50 to bid for me.
A
You just hired me.
B
Just start bidding and keep on bidding till you get that suitcase. I want it at any price.
D
Now, ladies and gentlemen, here's a special item of Interest? A black leather suitcase arrived yesterday. Contents unknown. It's handsome. It's beautiful. It's never been opened. Now who's got spoiling blood? The leather alone is worth at least 25 bucks. And it's heavy. It's heavy. It could be full of bricks and it could be full of gold. That's what makes it interesting. Now, who's going to start the bidding? Who's going to start it off with a big one?
E
Two bucks.
D
Come on, come on. That's an insult. Two dollars. Who'll give 15?
A
10 bucks.
D
10. Who'll give 30? 10. Who give 30?
B
Start pitching for our team, mister.
A
25 bucks. 50. 50.
B
Double it.
F
100.
D
100. The man in the gallery bids 100. You heard him, folks. 100. Who'll give two? 200. 200.
A
You got competition, lady.
B
I got you. Keep doubling.
D
400. 400. That man in the gallery's got second vision. He knows what the suitcase is worth. The bid's 400. Who'll give 800?
A
Who?
D
4. Who'll give 8?
A
800.
D
800. The man in front here says 8. Who'll give a thousand? The bid's 800. He'll give a thousand.
B
Go ahead, surprise the man.
A
The OPA won't like this.
B
You're working for me now. Make it a thousand.
A
A thousand?
D
A thousand, man.
G
In fact.
D
Bitch. $1000. Who'll get 1500? A thousand. Who'll get 1500? All right, 1000.
A
Once.
D
Thousand twice. A thousand for the third and last time. Ultra bag. Show it to the men in the galley. Please come up and pay this price.
B
Now, here's the money. Pick it up and I'll be waiting. Yeah, and don't let him open it. Whatever you do, don't let him open it.
A
It's your party, lady. I won't even let him peek.
D
There's the lucky man coming down the aisle now. Give him room. Give him room. Now. Here he is. And here's your suitcase, mister. Want to open it and tell the folks what's inside?
A
Yeah.
D
What's in it, Matt?
A
It's just one of my relatives. Here's a dough.
D
Yeah, sure, sure, sure.
H
All right.
D
We have another right here.
F
Sorry, son. I was just going for the empty seat.
A
Yeah, we'll wait for your blockers next time, Pop. Where's the girl? The brunette with the dark glasses?
F
It's a jail term, son.
G
I don't follow him home anymore.
A
Well, she was here a minute ago. You must have seen her leave.
E
No.
A
Think about it. She must have walked right past you think about it.
F
No, son.
H
When you get to be my age.
A
You don't even do that. I felt kind of silly. The same way you do when you find a hole in your sock at the shoe store. But it wasn't my dough that bought that case, so I couldn't beef much. When I got back to the office, I started working on the lock with the key. The case was made out of plain black leather and it was kicked around more than Minnie's gong. Then I opened it. A shiny looking saxophone was laid out in three parts. For a thousand bucks you can buy a whole brass section. So I went through each piece looking for a reason. There was a paper box inside the case. It had a grosser reeds in it. Same kind you find on the mouthpiece of any saxophone. I couldn't do much more. So I wrapped up the case and put it up in my closet. Then the door opened and if trouble had a face, this was the way it looked in the morning. He stood there in the middle of the room and his eyes held me like a fly at the end of two needles. He noticed his eyebrows. They were bushy and thick. And if they got any worse, he'd have to hire a native guide. Hello.
E
You Madero?
A
That's my story. You got a better one?
E
It's sadder than yours. I'm the guy you left behind at the auction.
A
Who are you bidding for? Who are you asking for?
E
Myself.
A
I suppose we get real friendly. What's your name?
H
Dunlap.
E
Larry Dunlap. Now introduce me to the girl who was coaching you.
A
All right. She was a souped up brunette with a disappearing act. Now what does that prove?
E
Unless you find her in the cemetery. Never trust a woman. Especially Claire Underwood.
A
What do you want from me?
E
I'll take that black leather suitcase you won at the auction.
A
Look, I saved you some dough. Don't make a pig of yourself. Try to be nice.
E
I will. I won't kick you when you're dead. Where's that suitcase? You're making me nervous.
A
So if you got a niche, see a doctor. What makes you so big?
E
Vitamins. I know all about the Saxon made arrow. It belongs to me. Give it to me or I start looking.
A
You better have a license. A sax isn't that important.
E
It is to me. Maybe I want to start a hot shop.
A
I'll hold out for your girlfriend. She owes me 50 bucks and I need to dough.
E
I'll double anything she gives you.
A
Your main money. Give me a hint. What?
E
A hundred bucks.
G
Dude.
A
Yeah, Sax Is in the closet on top. Come on, give me a hand. Give me a hand.
E
Sure.
A
You'Ve got a hand, Madero.
E
Now play it out.
A
Some days you're not going to make out any better than an ice cube at a cocktail party. When Dunlap hit me, I folded up and my head got the size of a social worker's heart. Well, I started tossing around on the rug. It took me longer to stop than it took Hayden to quit Jersey. I knew that Sachs was gone, so there was no point in getting up. I started dreaming about that day. A Cleveland bellhop gave me a key to the wrong room. It was going all right, too, until somebody began shaking me in that small room. I didn't have to look up to know who it was, because Inspector Warcheck of San Francisco Homicide is the kind of guy you stand next to in a hurricane and wonder what happened to the ventilation.
H
Making a wish, Madero?
E
Yeah.
A
Here. So it didn't come true. What are you collecting?
H
Alibis. What's yours for? Last night at 12 o' clock I was in bed. You got a witness?
A
No. You can't win them all.
H
Yeah, that's the way a guy named Charlie Reiser felt.
A
So maybe it's an epidemic.
H
So maybe you started it. Someone shot him dead. The guy was a musician.
A
Try some of the neighbors.
H
I'll try you first.
A
You're reaching, Warchick. I never even heard of the guy.
H
Oh, that's a handicap, Madeira. Maybe you just heard of his instrument, huh?
A
All right, let me guess. It was a sack.
H
Hey, you're very bright. An auctioneer helped me trace it down to you.
A
Now what's the pitch? A wild one, Warcheck. A dame forced me to do her a favor. Uh huh.
H
I bet you force easy.
A
She paid me to bid for the sax and then took a potter after I won it.
H
You got an active memory? Does it include a name?
A
Yeah, Claire Underwood. Run it down and see what it gets you.
H
Oh, now stop threatening me, Madero. I think that sex is tied in with the murder. Now where is it?
A
You're a little late. A torpedo named Larry Dunlap just walked in and sapped me for it.
G
Yeah?
H
How hard did he SAP you, Madero? There's a pool of blood behind your desk and it doesn't look like yours.
E
How'd it get there?
A
I don't know, Warchick. Maybe somebody got lost and figured it was a blood bank. How do I know?
H
Yeah, maybe they thought it was a morgue too. Left a body, now look around.
A
Yeah, do that. Look under the rug too. Maybe the guy was thin.
H
All right, Madero. So far you're in the clear. But if there's blood, there must be a body close by.
E
It'll show.
H
When it does, we'll turn it in for yours.
A
I'll remember.
H
Like you remember that thousand bucks the auction house, Madero? The thousand bucks you gave the joint, got homesick and left.
A
I'm broke, Warchick. You'll have to stand on your head to pin this on me.
H
Maybe I will.
A
Maybe you're right. I forgot about your head. Once Warcheck sticks to you, you might as well try to pull a mustard plaster off a throw rug. He stood there for a minute, blinking at the light. And you could see big pebbles of sweat standing out on his forehead. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket. When it came down, it was wet enough to wash all the windows in lower Manhattan. After a while, he walked out. I watched him out of the window. I tried to figure how I got into. This was like trying to trace back a conversation to see what words started it. There were lots of questions and not too much time. Why was a saxophone on a grocer reeds worth all that dough? And who left his blood on my rug as a deposit? The girl must have known what was in the case. But why did she leave it with me? I couldn't make it add up. So I looked up the only good guy I know, a waterfront priest named Father Leahy. He knows most of the bad boys around the piers. And he's heard enough sins to start an art colony around Lofty's. They got his name above the line, and that's a tough trick because along the waterfront an archangel couldn't get a cup of coffee without hugging a wing. I found him over at the parish house having dinner.
G
Hello, Johnny. You want some wine?
A
No, thanks, Father.
G
That's one of the good things about this job. You get wine with your meals.
A
Yeah, I know.
G
Except you gotta watch out. I knew a guy in the seminary, liked to eat between meals.
E
Yeah, yeah.
G
But the bishop fixed him. He sent him to a rich parish and the guy had to throw away half his sermons.
A
I'm in trouble, Father. Did you buy elevator shoes, or is.
G
That a bump on your head?
A
Somebody knocked me down when I wasn't looking.
G
Did you get the license number?
A
It just felt like a truck. I got hit with a club. That's why I want you to help me, Father.
G
Johnny, you misinterpret my mission in life. You need a policeman. I'm only a priest. Besides, I'm eating.
A
Look, Father, Homicide wants to tack a murder on me.
G
There goes my appetite.
A
Who's dead?
G
Anybody I could have helped.
A
His name was Charlie Reiser. He was a musician.
G
If he's going in the right direction, he may get some work. How did you meet him?
A
I didn't. I never heard of the guy. It was all a surprise to me.
G
Sounds more like a shock.
A
I got a bum shake from the start, Father. A gal with a big purse promised to pay me something if I'd bid for a black suitcase at an auction.
G
What was the matter with her? Laryngitis.
A
She was trying to keep somebody from noticing her. But she must have weakened in the final stretch.
G
What do you mean?
A
I won the bid with a thousand bucks. But when I came back, the gal was gone.
G
And you were left holding the bag. What was in it?
A
A saxophone and a grocer reeds. You could buy the whole outfit with a $5 down payment.
G
What makes it worth a thousand?
A
I don't know, Father. The sacks belong to Charlie Reiser. A guy named Dunlap offered me 200 bucks for it.
G
All that money for a saxophone and they wouldn't allow me 40 bucks on that old organ?
A
Dunlap slugged me when my back was turned and piled up a lead.
G
Did the sax go for free?
A
Somebody paid for it. When I woke up, there was a lot of blood on the floor. Yours? It was unclaimed, but I have an idea a body's gonna turn up without it.
G
You have nothing but murder on your mind, Johnny. Why don't you settle down with a good book?
A
If Warcheck tags me, I'll have to borrow yours. Father, right now I need you to check on a few people for me.
G
Sure, but I'll need a couple of names for them first.
A
You know a lot of the combo boys, Father. Check up on Charlie Riser's friends, especially his women. And find out where Larry Dunlap fits him. Will you do it, Father?
G
Yes, Johnny, I'll do it. But if I find out you're calling them wrong, I'll drop over to Warcheck side.
A
Thanks, Father. If you help me out of this. You're a good guy, you're an angel.
G
But stop pushing me. I'm not that anxious yet.
A
When I left Father Leahy, I ran over my leads. You could have counted them on one finger and you'd still have to cheat. The only guy worth looking up was the auctioneer on Eddie Street. Maybe that was all revenge. Why did he tell War. Check that. I took that thousand bucks back. I figured I'd find out, so I grabbed a cab back to his store. When I got there, the joint was locked up, but a big neon sign blinked. The name J.C. cole was another night coming from the back. So I followed it down inside. Cole was working over his cash register tape. I didn't knock, and right away he started making funny noises in his throat. I noticed he was wearing a vest without a tie and his sleeves were rolled up with big rubber bands. His elbows stuck out and they were red and knotted up like a baby's face with cramps. And then he made his opening bid.
F
It's a little late. What can I sell you, mister?
A
A straight story, huh? The one you told headquarters had too many frills.
G
Hey, wait a minute.
F
You're the same fellow who bought that suitcase.
A
You got a good head, friend. How good is it on robbery?
G
It was dark.
F
I thought it was you, so I called the cops.
A
You started fast, but you're fading in the stretch.
F
A thousand bucks was gone. I figured you took your money back.
A
That's an early mistake. It wasn't my dough.
F
You sound like you're mad. You said a gun in your pocket.
A
That makes you talk about that suitcase. I'll say yes.
F
I don't know what you mean. I said you were taking your chances. A ton of bricks, a ton of gold, remember? I gotta make a living.
A
You know, you don't have to crowd the mint. What gives a sex a thousand dollar price tag?
F
I don't know, I tell you. I. I don't know what thing.
A
Yeah, well, we'll go into politics later. I think you're lying.
F
It was just another suitcase. An old leather suitcase with a sax inside. I just tell you, I don't know a thing.
A
Yeah, Keep it up, fella. You'll tell me everything that way. Now, how did you know there was a sax in that case if you never open it?
F
Now, listen, mister, let's be friends. I got a little money. Let's be friends.
A
Go on.
F
I was just trying to get a little ahead. I got a wife and a kid. A big kid. So I switched saxophones. I took out the original sax with the reeds and put in an older one.
A
What'd you do with the original?
F
It was a pretty nice one.
G
Brand new.
F
So I sold it to Someone regional for $200.
A
Slowing down. Who's someone? A relative?
F
He's a friend named Bud. Bud Overbeck. He plays tenor sax at the downbeat club. That original was something special.
A
Yeah, you should have held out for a thousand bucks on both ends.
F
Now, listen, fella. Bud's a friend, a good friend. On my wife, you won't hunt, will you?
A
I'll send you a pint if he believes.
F
Yeah, sure, sure. I'll save it. Anything else?
A
Yeah, stop stuttering. You'll give that kid of yours a complex. When I opened the door, you could tell he wanted to shake me worse than a summer cold. I didn't like him any better, but he'd given me something solid to work on. So I got over to the Club Downbeat. It's a jazz cellar that warms over King Oliver at six bits a throw. Five piece combo was writing a chorus slow and easy and you knew the only notes they ever read were on IOUs. There were a dozen or so jazz fans huddled around the bandstand and if you looked real close at their faces, you saw something that looked like pain. I asked the bartender who Overbeck was, and he pointed out the blond kid with a face made of warm putty playing a black saxophone. I walked backstage to a small dressing room where the boys grabbed their second win with a short one. When I opened the door, Claire Underwood stood there holding her breath.
B
Hello, Johnny. You look angry. Put away those daggers.
A
I will, baby. I'll guess that you killed Reiser for a saxophone.
B
Guess again. Why should I kill anyone for a sex?
A
Tell me why it's worth a grand and I'll answer that one, too.
B
All right, Johnny. I'm sentimental. Say, Charlie Reiser was my boyfriend and I wanted to keep his sacks as a memory.
A
Must have been quite a memory.
B
Baby, you didn't meet Charlie.
A
But I did meet Larry Dunlap. He wanted the sacks, too. Why?
B
How would I know, Johnny? Maybe he was taking lessons.
A
They weren't that kind. He has too good a lip.
B
So have I, only I use it differently.
A
All right, stop puckering, sweetheart. I want some sense.
B
Now, please, Johnny. If you leave now, I'll give you double what I owe you from the auction.
A
That's not enough. Look, baby, count up your bills and tell me what a murder rap is worth.
B
We'll haggle over it later, Johnny. Just meet me at the Ajax Hotel and I promise you, you'll get a better figure.
A
You gonna add some interest?
B
Come here and I'll show you what I mean.
A
I'm not running a service. I need some answers. Come on. Come on. I want some action. Come on.
B
Use your arms, Johnny.
A
You got too big a mouth, baby. Somebody's going to close it on you.
B
Show Me, Johnny.
A
All right.
B
The music stop, Johnny.
A
Why do you care? We're not dancing.
I
Johnny, please, you're. You're squeezing me too tight.
A
Yeah, it's a bad habit. Now tell me about that sax.
B
Listen to me, Johnny. I told you I got to see Overbeck first. I'll tell you everything later.
A
Yeah, after you talk Overbeck out of his sax, huh?
B
Yes.
A
Is it a deal you're too anxious to sign? I'll talk to Overbeck myself.
B
All right, Johnny. I'll help you get him here quicker.
A
Yeah, what are you gonna do?
B
Scream, Johnny. Scream. Listen.
A
Help.
I
Help. Help. Somebody help me.
A
Louder, baby. You'll really need it in a minute. Help. Help. Help.
C
Hey, what's the matter? What was she screaming about, mister?
A
She couldn't catch me.
I
This man's drunk.
B
He was trying to snatch my purse.
A
Is that true, mister? Call a cop and find out.
C
Yeah, I will.
I
No, no, please don't bother. Just get him out. Just throw him out.
B
Mr. Overbeck.
C
You heard the lady, mister. Do I get rough?
A
Save your strength, Overbeck. You'll need it later. Claire had a nice act, if you didn't mind playing straight man to a vulture. She draped herself on Overbeck's arm and she looked as cool as a vacation in Maine. As I walked out, Overbeck was still showing his teeth. But it didn't matter because you got the idea he wasn't strong enough to fight off a sneeze. Now, it wasn't much I could do except wait for Claire to show. But it started to drizzle, so I figured my best bet was her hotel. In the lobby, a rose colored carpet with a touch of yellow jaundice led to the desk. The clerk told me she hadn't come in yet, but for five bucks he could tell I was a friend. He gave me her key. I went upstairs. When I opened Claire's door, I knew something was wrong. A lot of towels were thrown all over the floor and everything was gone from the closet but the mothballs. Claire had skipped. And before I could walk out, Dunlap walked in. One hand was in his pocket and the other had enough tape to wrap up a mummy and I come in later. You're old enough, Dunlap. Make up your own mind.
E
I have. Where's Claire?
A
You're early. I think she's still busy getting a magazine. I'll wait. It'll be a long one. I'm not hanging around.
E
Oh, the fun is just beginning.
G
Sit down.
F
Sit down.
A
I guess I am tired.
E
This gun makes everybody drowsy. Now what's your tie with Claire?
A
Nothing that's deep rooted. Are you writing a column?
E
Yeah, the obituary. And you're gonna make the morning deadline.
A
You're too cocky, Dunlap. Don't turn your back.
E
I want Claire. Blew her chance. The best she could do was this arm.
A
Yeah, you ruined my carpet.
E
When they pass your cover around, I'll be generous. In the meantime, you're gonna stick around until Claire brings that black saxophone.
A
I hope she's got some food in the Xbox. What do you mean? Well, if you're waiting for that sax, we're starved to death. Claire's not gonna show.
E
What makes you a prophet?
A
A guy named Bud Overbeck. He had the sacks last, and Claire was working him over for it.
E
I'll work you over for less. What are the rest of her plans?
A
She was warm. Maybe she left a smoke signal.
E
All right, you're getting too stubborn.
A
Put away the gun, Dunlap. You can only use one arm.
E
I'll clean the bases with this index finger. Pick a spot for four.
A
Don't clutter up the floor now, Dunlap. We got company.
C
Hey, what's this? The wrong room. Claire said we'd be alone.
A
We are. Just the three of us. Who's he? Madero.
G
Huh?
C
What are you talking about? Claire told me to come here. She told me to wait for her.
E
Look, fella, save your lip for another chorus. Just tell me where she left you.
C
I don't feel so good. She was at the downbeat club. She was helping me put my sacks away. I. I just came up here to wait. We were gonna be alone.
H
All right, fella.
E
I'm cutting down the crowd.
A
You're with Madero now. I'm leaving.
C
Yeah, I'm going home too. I feel sick. I'm going home.
A
You'll never make it on your knees. What's the matter?
C
I don't know. I guess I gave the new horn too big a ride tonight. I got a weak heart.
A
Your eyes aren't too strong either. You're walking right into that closet.
C
They told me not to play so hard. Maybe I played too hard.
E
Help me, Father.
C
You look familiar. I seen you somewhere, huh? It. You look fuzzy. Yeah, I don't know. I. I feel sick. Someone must have slipped me something. I. I never felt like.
A
Like this before. I'm sick.
C
Real sick.
A
I'm. You'll never get any sicker, fella. Overbeck was dead even before he had a chance to see if Gabriel paid his boy scale. He hit the floor and turned over in his back and you figured he'd cross the River Jordan with a backstroke? I got a good look at him now. His face was all twisted up like bed sheets after a nightmare. And up near his hairline, a long, thin scar ran into his scalp. And I didn't know it killed Overbeck. But whatever it was, he didn't get two weeks notice. I figured if Homicide caught me here, I'd get my walking papers too. Right down to the last 20ft. I started for the door, but Warchick opened it for me. He looked at the body and then over to me.
H
You on a spree, Manero?
A
If you're footing the bill, Warchick, the.
H
State will from now on. Now, tell me about the guy on the floor.
A
He's dead.
H
Must have had parents. What's his name?
A
But Overbeck, he was a musician at the downbeat club.
H
Tell me some more.
A
Roll him more. Check. Maybe he's got a diary. All right.
H
Here'S his wallet.
G
All right.
H
Maduro, how long you been here?
A
Why?
H
The wallet's empty.
A
That's too bad. Your girlfriend's gonna have to get along. In last week's presents, I trail a.
H
Guy named Dunlap up to this apartment and I find you and a dead body. Now, there's a tie. Anywhere you look at it, that is what happened?
A
I don't know, Warcheck. I didn't see the picture. I just tagged by for the end.
H
Must have been a sad one.
E
I think he's poisoned.
H
I like the look in his eyes.
A
Get the girl who put it there.
H
Just give me a hint.
A
Overbeck was playing caveman with Claire Underwood before he came up here.
H
What does that give him? Besides hair?
A
Maybe a mickey. When I left, she was warming up an argument for his saxophone.
H
She get it?
A
She didn't. Dunlap's losing man hours. He just walked out here. And I think she's in his list.
H
Yeah, I'm beginning to get an idea now myself.
A
Does it hurt?
H
You and the Underwood girl are running some kind of a racket for that saxophone. She left you behind a front for her.
A
You haven't seen her war chick. She doesn't need that kind of help.
H
But you will. When I get through checking. Still got a few calls to make. Me want the lab to work over the body. By then, I'll have enough to come back and hold you.
A
Madeiro, you couldn't hold a lap dog with a suction pump.
H
All right, big shot. I'll go a long way to get you for this. A long way.
A
You got the Drag?
H
Yeah, it's gonna slow you down a little.
A
Orczyk wanted to mother the body until the coroner came. And when I left, he was squeezing himself into a chair. He fit tighter than a whale in a crib. You can word it any way you like, but the big riddle was that saxophone. Claire had it and Dunlap wanted it. And a couple of guys died for it. My only alibi was Dunlap, but you might as well ask Khan to hold still for Lewis. I buzzed back to the office, but there was no message from Father Leahy. So I stared out the window for a while, wondering how to bake a cake with the dynamite charge, when the phone rang.
G
Yeah, Hello, Johnny. This is Father Lee.
A
What'd you find out, Father?
G
It's not pleasant, Johnny. I'm down at the morgue. A lab report on Bud Oberbeck just came in.
A
He died of poisoning, huh, Father?
G
The bitter kind. Overbeck's heart couldn't stand all that dope. Coroner found a used saxophone read in Oberbeck's pocket. It was soaked in hop.
A
So that's what made that saxophone so big. The grocer reeds.
G
That's right, Johnny. Oberbeck was absorbing the stuff while he played. He probably never knew what hit him.
A
Well, what about Riser? How does he figure?
G
Riser was making his pin money peddling dope to nightclubs. He was getting his shipments from Mexico.
A
How did Claire and Dunlap figure?
G
There were a couple of partners who wanted to ease out Reiser and go into business for themselves.
A
The idea must have gone to Claire's head. She's doing a solo now and Dunlap thinks she has the sacks.
G
W's the same way about you, Johnny. He's out to tag you for everything.
A
He's smarter than that.
G
I don't know him that well, but it adds up in his book. Because he thinks you're leaving town. Someone's booked a passage on the 2am plane from Mexico this morning in the name of Jay Madero.
A
I'm being jockey, Father. It's either Claire or Dunlap. They're both as black as sin.
G
Maybe so, but Warcheck still thinks you're the dark horse.
A
Up until now, it was like trying to sell a toupee to a ball headed eagle. But when the turn comes, everything happens in a hurry. And you began breaking more records than a disc jockey with a hangover. If Father Leahy was right, Clara Dunlap had enough dreams in that saxophone to start a waltz contest. And I knew if they both Got out of town orcheck would be around to tag me for the last dance. So I got out to Mills Field, and out on the far end of the strip, a twin engine plane was warming up. Claire was standing with her back toward me, and even from here you could see what a stiff tailwind could do to a landing gear. When she saw me, she raised her eyebrows and figured her temperature was even higher.
B
Sorry I had to borrow your name, Johnny.
A
You're too small for it.
B
Baby, I got a big ego.
A
And that gun bolsters it, huh?
B
That's my story.
A
Well, tell it to Homicide. They'll take a nibble on either you or Dunlap.
B
Better throw them, Dunlap. I got a date in Mexico City.
A
It's a blind one, baby.
E
You're going in the wrong direction.
I
Larry, what are you doing here? I thought you.
E
I want those reads, baby.
B
You'll be peddling pencils when I'm through with you.
E
Leave the sides, too, baby. I'll be lonely.
B
You won't need that kind of music where you're going, Larry.
E
You're the one to talk, baby. I trusted you. We were going to do this together. I trusted you.
B
We all make mistakes. You got the short end.
E
I'll stretch it a little.
A
You got another chance.
E
Let's team up again.
B
Sorry, Larry, I'm crowding you out.
E
You only think so.
B
Get out of my way. I got to make the plane.
E
Make a grave first. I want that stuff.
B
I won't miss again.
I
Stay away, Larry.
E
Put up a sign.
H
Yeah, you missed again.
D
Give me the gun.
I
No, I'm selfish. I'll hold on. Pull him off me, Madeira. Pull him off.
A
There's a lot.
F
All right, baby, you.
E
You run out of chances?
A
It's my turn now.
I
No, please, Larry, put the gun away. You win. I'll split it with you now. You win. Honest, Larry.
C
You win.
E
Just to show you I agree.
A
You're through, guy. Drop the gun. Yeah.
E
What are the odds on my getting away in that plane?
A
70, 30 maybe.
E
Things are too tough at 50.
A
50?
E
Come on, I'll ride downtown with you.
A
Well, Dunlap told the whole story down at headquarters. It seems that Riser, Claire and he were buying dope from Mexico and peddling it here in the form of soaked up reeds. Reiser was contact man in Mexico, but the only way they knew him down there was by his black saxophone. Claire and Dunlap decided to narrow the profits down to two by shooting Riser and taking over. Clare used the gun and, well, that started her to thinking that she could do even better with a single act. She needed that black sacks, though. Riser got wind of it and hid the sacks with the reeds in the basement. His landlady found it after he was tumbled and sold it to that auction house. Claire had me buy it and followed me back to the office where she tried to peg down Dunlap. The sack she took turned out to be a phony because the auctioneer had already sold the black one to Bud Overbeck. The track was switched to him, but not soon enough. Overbeck didn't know the reeds were loaded. And after an all night jam session, he folded up with a heart attack. Well, Warcheck asked only one question. Wasn't it tough luck for an innocent guy like Overbeck? I don't know. At least there was one time he played right out of this world. Foreign.
J
Madero, Pier 23, starring Jack Webb as Johnny Madero, has been presented by the Mutual Network. Johnny Madero is written by Herb Margulis and Lou Moreheim. Gail Gordon played Father Leahy and Bill Conrad played Inspector Warcheck of Homicide. Others in the cast were Helene Burke, Bob Holten, Herb Butterfield, Irvin Lee and Herb Rawlinson. Original music was composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman. And the entire production was directed by Nat Wolf. We invite you to listen again next week over most of these stations when Mutual presents another adventure in the life of Johnny Madero. Pier 23. Tony Lofrano speaking. This program came to you from Hollywood.
A
This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.
Podcast: Harold's Old Time Radio
Episode Air Date: Jan 25, 2026 (original air: June 26, 1947)
Episode: Johnny Madero, Pier 23 - Fatal Auction
This episode is a classic crime noir radio drama, centering on Johnny Madero, boat shop owner and occasional private eye, who becomes ensnared in a deadly mystery after being hired at an auction to bid on a black leather suitcase. The suitcase draws the attention of femme fatale Claire Underwood, a tough contender named Larry Dunlap, a murdered musician, and the relentless Inspector Warcheck—pulling Johnny through a tangle of deception, murder, and a smuggling racket on the San Francisco waterfront.
(Starts ~ 00:00)
(02:10 – 04:10)
(04:25 – 06:00)
(06:38 – 08:42)
(09:49 – 11:48)
(12:53 – 14:20)
(15:12 – 17:06)
(18:06 – 21:09)
(22:49 – 23:53)
(24:06 – 25:55)
(26:08 – End)
Johnny’s sardonic narration:
On the saxophone’s true value:
Inspector Warcheck’s doggedness:
"Fatal Auction" is a tight, evocative piece of classic pulp storytelling:
A quintessential Golden Age radio experience, full of snappy dialogue and atmospheric intrigue!