← Harold's Old Time Radio
Harold's Old Time Radio
Rocky Jordan 48-12-12 Ace High Straight
00:29:49
Rocky Jordan 48-12-12 Ace High Straight
Loading summary
Transcript1 lines
- [00:02]
A
Time now for Rocky Jordan. There's nothing I like better than a good game of poker. But I get tired of always drawing to straits that never fill. You have to keep throwing your chips on the table. Only the last card pays off if you're lucky enough to get it. This time I had to fill my straight. The stakes were too high. Again we bring you a story of adventure with Rocky Jordan, proprietor of the Cafe Tambourine, which stands in a narrow street off Cairo's native quarter. Within sight of the mosque Sultan Hassan. The Cafe Tambourine crowded with forgotten men from the world's waterfronts, alive with the babble of many languages. Now, Rocky Jordan and tonight's story. Ace high straight. I had spent half the night before in a poker game and I always kept drawing to straights that didn't fill. Finally, I cashed in what chips I had left, wrote out an IOU for plenty and went home to the tambourine, to bed. Even in my sleep, I kept drawing to inside straits and outside straits that never filled. I got up late the next morning and knowing my gambling friend would soon be around for his dough, I took a bag of money out of the safe in my office. I just sat down at my desk to count it out when Chris, my bartender, came in. Hey, Rocky, guy named Jack wants to talk to you on the front payphone. Jack who? I don't know. Just said Jack wants to talk to you. Yeah, you said that. Why'd he call me on the payphone? Shall I give him your office number? Smart thinking, Chris. Do that. Sure, Rocky. Oh, and there's a man been asking to see out front. I told him he was busy. What's his name? Mr. Queen. Jack and Queen. Not bad with the first two cards. Cards, Rocky? Skip it. I still got poker in the brain. You want me to send him away? No, I'll see what he wants. Might as well take the phone call while I'm out there. I'll watch the money on my desk till I get back, huh? Sure, Rocky. Bring him to me. Bring him to me at once. As I stepped out into the cafe, it sounded like business was starting a little early. The big voice came from the big mouth of a swarthy, well dressed Egyptian sitting at the rear end of the bar. I sidetracked over his way. Not be treated this way. I demand respect. Where is the manager? Bring him to me. Right on tap, mister. Who are you? Name's Rocky Jordan. I own the Tambourine. What's the trouble? The trouble? Everything, sir. I ask for food and what do they bring me? Garbage. Oh, our specialty. Now listen. The drinks are abominable. And where is your bartender? The service is unspeakable. Then try the Hotel Shepherd. Why come slumming here? No, you are insulting. Do you know who I am? I am Thoman King. Come on, King. Never heard of you. Take my advice and get some sleep. This is no time, sir. I will show you what I think of the Cafe Tambourine. Okay, Kingpin, now we go. Bye. Bye. Come on. Stop it, sir. Get your hand off me. I am warning you. I twisted Tom and King's arm behind him, escorted him the full length of the bar, out the front door and discarded him with a shove. Two doors down. He retreated, still shouting insults. I brush my hands and stroll back into the cafe. This routine. I was about to take the call on the payphone when a smiling man of uncertain nationality and thick glasses stepped up. Pardon. Are you Mr. Jordan? Yeah. Ah, I am Mr. Queen. Milton Queen. Oh, sure. I'd forgotten about you. I am a visitor in your city, Mr. Jordan. A chance acquaintance. A Mr. Willoughby told me to look you up when I came to Cairo. Willoughby? Well, have a good time. Oh, thank you. I am to meet my nephew, Junior Queen. He should be here now. We are especially interested in the mosques of Cairo. Could you direct me to the Sultan Hassan? Oh, right down the street. See, I've got a phone call waiting. Well, just one more thing. Perhaps you can also tell me how to get the mosque Al Azhar. Sorry, I lost my tourist book. Did you know the mosque? El Azar is the first known Egyptian use of the pointed arch. Interesting. I am very, very. Look, what you need is a guide. You'll find at least three hiding behind every lamp post. Oh, yes, perhaps you are right. But you being a resident here, my friend suggested that you might. If you'll excuse me. That phone call. Oh, of course. Thank you very much, Mr. Jordan. You have been most kind. Most guys. I dragged myself away from Queen and went over to the payphone. Whoever Jack was, he must have gotten t and hung up. I didn't blame him. Before the smiling tourist with the thick glasses could buttonhole me again, I headed for my office. I couldn't help thinking how well my poker hand was filling out. A jack, a queen and now a king. Then I opened the office door. Lying face down on the floor, an ugly lump the size of an ostrich egg. Just behind his left ear was Chris, my bartender. The money was gone from the desk and the back door to the alley swung open. I ran out into the alley and up to the narrow side. There was no one inside except a native woman. Her somber brown eyes gave me a startled look. She quickly drew a veil over her face and limped away. I've been around Cairo long enough to know not to look at a native woman twice. So I got back to the office and while the help tried to bring Chris to his senses I called the police and reported the robbery. It took six pitchers of water and a gin sling, but Chris finally sat up. Hey, Rocky, you all right? Me? Of course I am. Chris, what happened? I don't know. Come on, you gotta remember I left you here to watch the money on my desk. Oh, yeah? Well, I heard the yelling out front, so I thought you needed help. So I put the money in the safe. In the safe? Sure. Then I heard somebody come in the door behind me. I stood up and somebody grabbed me. I stepped back on somebody's foot. I think hard. Did you see who it was? No. I guess that's when I got slugged. You sure you put the money in the safe? I hate it there. I'm gonna have a look. Rocky, what do you know? The money was all there, every cent of it. We had a look around the office, but so far as we could tell, nothing had been touched. There was a knock at the door, but before I could answer, in walked Sergeant Greco of the Cairo police. The usual sour look and his face. What's this all about, Mr. Jordan? Greco. Where's Captain Sapia? Captain Sapia is busy. He sent me to get the details of the robbery. Sorry to disappoint you, Greco, but it was all a mistake. One moment. I must make a full report now. How much money was involved? Oh, a few hundred pounds, more or less. But it's all here. Then what has been going on here? Nothing. Forget it. We do not take slugging so lightly, Mr. Jordan. Chris stumbled over his own foot or somebody didn't like his ugly face. Those things happen around here. Yeah, I didn't get a chance to turn around, but something. If you please, I will question you one at a time. Look, Greco, I'll put in a good word for you to Sibia. Now, if you'll just. Now, Mr. Jordan, did you strike? No, I told you, there's no complaint. For the last time, I will take it. Get away from that phone, Greco. It's for me. Sergeant Greco speaking. Oh. Oh, Captain Sapai. Yes. Yes. Oh, by all means, sir. Yes? Yes, Jordan is here. Yeah, I'll take it. He is not at all cooperative, but so. Yes, yes. Yes, I will ask him. Of course. Of course. You can depend on me completely. Yes, I will handle everything at once. Goodbye. Don't hang up that phone. Let me talk to him. Well, Jordan, what did Sabia want? Jordan, when did you last see Ace Warner? Don't tell me I drew an ace. Answer my question. I played poker with him till about 3 o' clock this morning. Remind me not to send him a greeting card this year. Why not? You won a little too easily, I thought. But I asked for it. I'll pay him off. You won't, Jordan. Ace Warner was just found in his casino, shot to death. Maybe somebody will give me a black tie for Christmas. I believe you own a.45 caliber automatic, Jordan. Now look, Greco, you can do better than that. I am instructed to conduct a routine investigation. Let me see the gun. Okay. I keep it in my desk drawer. Haven't touched it in six weeks. Well chosen. Yeah, Greco. And you'll find my fingerprints on it. Thank you. Having fun? Greco has not been fired recently. Oh. Disappointed? Now, what is in these other drawers? Greco, get out of those drawers or get a search warrant. Wait. Another gun. Jordan. What? How did that get there? Let me see it. Don't touch it. Mm. A definite smell of cordite. Two shells missing. This automatic has been fired within the last 12 hours. A plant if I ever saw one. I would deliver this gun to Captain Sabaya for his inspection. And under the circumstances, you, Jordan, will accompany me to the Cairo J. Rocky Jordan will be back in just a moment. Remember, over your CBS station every Sunday night you'll hear not only Rocky Jordan, but Sam Spade, Dashiell Hammett's great private eye and the Whistler, one of the most popular shows on the air. Remember, this half hour each Sunday evening is the time for Rocky Jordan. Now back to tonight's story. Ace High Straight. I was well on my way to an Ace High straight. A phone call from a guy named Jack who didn't wait for me to answer. A loud Egyptian named King and a smiling tourist named Queen. And finally, a murdered gambler named Ace. I wondered when the 10 would show up to fill my straight. It was no secret that Ace Warner had my IOU for plenty of money, won in a poker game the night before. But when a.45 automatic, recently fired, turned up in my desk drawer, I was taken to headquarters. Captain Sam Cebia sent the gun to ballistics two doors down. Kept me in his office. Jordan, I had hoped there would someday be a murder in Cairo in which you were not involved. Keep Trying, Sam. Now, you were about to give me one of your fantastic theories. Nothing fantastic about it. The killer knew I owed Ace Warner too much dough after that poker game last night. So he planted his gun in my desk to throw the blame on me. You seem quite certain that gun killed Ace Warner. What's your idea, sir? Never mind. Go on. Somebody contrived to get me out of my office while his accomplice entered it from the alley. He didn't count on finding Chris. Where was I? Calm yourself, Jordan. Ballistics must fire the gun to compare bullets. Sure, sure. Jordan, supposing you are right, can you suggest who contrived to get you out of your office? It could be any one of three. Somebody named Jack called me on the front payphone just before this happened. Jack who? I don't know. By the time I answered, he'd hung up. Then a swarthy Egyptian named Tommen King started a phony one man riot in the cafe. I had to throw him out. Tom and King and the third. Well, after I get rid of King. Sam, how many times do they have to go on? Joel? A tourist with thick glasses named Milton Queen buttonholed me at the door. I had trouble getting rid of him. Any one of those three could have given the accomplice plenty of time to get in the alley door to my office. One moment, sir. Bye. Speaking. You are sure? No, no, not at present. That will be all. Call him out, Sam. Jordan, Ace Warner was killed with the gun found in your desk drawer. Surprise. Now suppose you continue your story. All of it. I've told you everything. Sam. How about talking to Chris? For one thing, he thinks he stepped on somebody's foot. He's a big fan. I have his statement. Jordan, I will release you for the present. In the meantime, let me suggest. Did I give up a weekend at my country estate? Sure, Sam. I'll stay in Cairo. Watch me. I got out quick, before Sam could change his mind and was on my way back to the tambourine. Now all I had to do was find a tent spot to fill my straight. I also wanted a better look at a couple of cards named King and Queen. As I walked into my cafe, Chris nodded his head painfully toward a man sitting at a front table. The man got up and drooped his way toward me like an underfed dog with its tail between its legs. The Egyptian one man riot. Tom and King. Mr. Jordan, I've been waiting to see you get the glasses off the bar, Chris. Oh, please, Mr. Jordan. I want to apologize. Why didn't you Bring your hole card with you. I don't understand. Your helper who delivered the gun? Mr. Jordan, I am afraid you are confused. I created a disturbance here this morning. My actions were inexcusable. I could phrase it a different way. You see, I had been drinking all night. There have been things on my mind. Like murder. Please. Worries. Why I came to the tambourine, I do not know. A lot of people wonder then. Mr. Jordan, I am a respectable person. It's one man's opinion. You can understand why I would not want a disgraceful affair like this to reach the papers. I did considerable damage. I wish to pay for everything. Would £100 be sufficient? 100? That's your last offer? I realize that I am in no bargaining position. Well, give me your card. I'll send you an itemized bill. You are very kind, Mr. Jordan. And you will tell Noah? Well, that depends. Keep in touch with me, King. He handed me his card and backed out the door, bowing all the way. I asked Chris if the guy named Jack had called again. He hadn't. There was a chance I could learn something about Ace Warner to help me find my tin. So I taxied over to his gambling joint on the other side of town. A lone policeman was on guard out front, but he let me in. One of Ace's boys was in a back room testing a roulette wheel. Maxie. Oh, hi, rock. Watch your 13 coming up. Watch it. See? 13. What'd I tell you? Yeah, I see. Works something like that poker game I was in last night. Oh, yeah, Rock. Sorry about that. We had a fix to clean out a couple of the other boys. They had some tricks, too. There was too much dough on the table Ace couldn't afford. You know Ace is dead. Yeah. 23 this time. Watch it. What do you know about the killing? I tell you, Rock, he. Watch it now. 23 coming up. 23, just like I said. Come on. What do you know about the killing? Nothing, Rock. Not a thing. Who were his enemies? Who's the angel behind this affair? Angel? It's funny. How do you know? Know what? That was his girlfriend. He smothered her in France or someplace. Quite a dish, Rocky. He was getting rid of her dough. Why? He got most of it anyhow. She's too jumpy. Scared her husband show up. You know what the husband's name was? Let's see. No, I forgot it. Four this time. Try to remember, Maxie. Was it King? Maybe? King? Yeah, King, that's it. How do you know? I didn't. Where's angel hiding these days? Got no idea. Hey, wait. Rock. Watch this. Sorry, Maxie. Time for the next deal. Things were beginning to gel now, but I still needed a 10 to fill my straight. I figured I'd find it back to back with a king Tom. And King had given me his address down toward the river on the other side of the bazaar. It takes a taxi all day to get through the bazaar, so I walked. Ordinarily I like to take in the bazaar. Get a kick out of the snake charmers who always play a little louder when a tourist walks by. I tossed a tattered musician. A couple of fiascos and I saw a familiar looking veiled native woman coming up from behind. She limped like the one I saw on the side street off the tambourine that morning. I wasn't sure she saw me, so I darted into a booth and waited for her to pass. Effendi, you like my rug? Yeah, sure, but not this time. Only two Egyptian pounds, effendi, for this filove. Ah, not interested. Sorry. I see you bargain well. Effendi, only for you. One pound. Look, I got a rug now. Don't bother, effendi, you will ruin me. Half a pound and 40 piazza. I'm not buying anything. Let it go of me, will you? Very well, but only for you, effendi. Half a pound. No. Less. Not a bell. Yummy. Less. We'll come back. By the time I got out of the booth and shook the excited peddler off, a veiled native woman was way down the street. I thought I saw her turn in somewhere. I wasn't sure. Anyhow, I couldn't have followed her. Like I said, a foreigner doesn't look at a veiled woman twice if he values his life. So I hurried on down the street. As I passed an open air cafe, I changed my course again. Another one of my cards had turned up. He sat at a secluded table sipping tea. Across from him sat a shy brown eyed boy of uncertain age. I went up to their table. Why? Why, Mr. Jordan. Mr. Milton Queen. I believe this, this is a pleasure. May I present my nephew, Junior Queen. How do you do, sir? Yes, we've met, we have? Why? Oh no. I was to meet him this morning, but he had not arrived when I talked to you. Oh yeah, yeah, of course. A logical mistake. Ever play poker, Mr. Queen? Poker? No, no. I'm so sorry. It's so kind of you to invite me. I just thought you might know Ace Warner. Warner? Ace? No, no, I'm afraid not. But I would enjoy meeting him. There are so many, many friendly people in Cairo. Oh, Mr. Jordan, I must confess a very foolish mistake. You must? Ah. You will recall I said the mosque El Azhar was the first Egyptian example of the pointed arch. I was wrong. It was the Ahmed IBN Tulun. Stupid of me, but think nothing of it. See you later, Mr. Queen. You too, Junior. Goodbye, sir. Won't you have some tea with us, Mr. Jordan? Tea? No. No thanks. Kills the taste of the lemon. As I left the table, I wondered why I said I had met Junior before. I thought I had a good memory for faces. Well, I found Tom and King's address. A large brownstone modern apartment house. But King wasn't in. The clerk said he'd been out most of the day. I waited around the lobby for a while, then stepped into a phone booth and called the Tambourine Cafe. Tambourine? Chris, this is Rocky. That fellow named Jack ever called me back? No, never did. But somebody else called. Who? I don't know. Hey, Bot and a service. Just a minute. He said if you wanted a fine angel, try 10 Dahabia. 10 Dahabiya. What else? That's all. He hung up. Oh, great. Now you can do something. Why, Rocky. Hang up. Well, looked like I finally had that 10 to fill my Ace High straight. I remembered the paddle streamers along the Nile are known as Dahabiyas. Then I thought again. Swank. Little houseboats anchored along the Nile are called the same thing. A five minute walk from King's Place took me to Dahabia number 10. I walked up the narrow awning covered gangplank that led to the little deck and knocked at the door. Who is it? The name's Jordan. I don't want to see anyone. Wait. I. Sorry, blue eyes, I gotta talk to you. Who did you say you were? Rocky Jordan. I was a friend of Ace Warner's. Oh. Well, how did you find me here? Oh, I just filled it straight and there you were. I don't understand. Straight. It's. Oh, well, if you mean you want a drink, it's on the side cabinet. Go ahead. Thanks, I believe I will. I'm sorry I couldn't get it for you. But you see my foot. Yeah, I noticed it. Why. Why did you come here, Mr. Jordan? To find your husband. My husband? Did you know you had one? Well, I. I have not seen him since I left Bordeaux. You had better go, Mr. Jordan. Oh, sure. But the next time you see Mr. King, tell him I said hello. Mr. King? Who is he? Isn't that his name? I don't Know what you are talking about. Now kindly get out of here. I'm going. Oh, one more question, Angel. What happened to your foot? A camel stepped on. Seemed almost too easy. But just in case Sam Sabaya hadn't already found the answer, I figured I'd throw in my two bits. So at the nearest pay phone I put in a hurry up call to headquarters. Captain Sam is Rocky. Well, Jordan, you did stay in Cairo. I'll make it short and sweet in case you still want to know who killed Ace Warner. You mean you can tell me. All wrapped up neat like a package from Santa Claus. Try a man named Tom and King at 1114 Fingal Place. Jordan. I have already talked to Mr. King. And next, look up a blue eyed beauty named Angel. Or didn't you know Tom and King was her husband? This is news, Jordan. All right, add it up, Sam. While King got me out of my office at the tambourine with his drunk act, angel put the gun on my desk. She still has a sore foot. That lovely creature knocked Chris out. Well, she had to. Then made her get away disguised as an Arab woman maybe. Ridiculous, Jordan. How do you explain? Ma', am, if I figure this any farther, you'd have to put me on your payroll. Come on. Better be on your way. From there on, it was Sam's baby. 10 dahabiya did it. My first four cards had been people instead of a house address. But I was satisfied. Found myself walking back through the bazaar. And this time I was enjoying it. I slowed down to listen to the tattered beggar musician. I was about to put in a request for the St. Louis Blues when I saw her again. Right behind me. This time still following me. The veiled native woman limped. But this time I figured I knew who she was. She hesitated. Her somber brown eyes flicked my way. Then she quickened her pace and went on by. I stood there puzzled. Then it hit me. My house of cards collapsed like a tent in a sandstorm. Rocky Jordan, the prize sucker of Cairo. Sure, I figured it. Just enough to leave a girl named angel at the mercy of a killer and get another murder rap pinned on me. This time I didn't dare let the veiled woman get out of sight again I turned and started after her. Three natives eyed me suspiciously and fell in behind. She saw me coming and limped faster. Then she began running. So did I. And with every step I picked up another native bent on mayhem. There we went, the veiled woman followed by me, followed by a pack of Moslems right through the bazaar of Cair Rocky Jordan returns in a matter of seconds with the ending of tonight's story. Here's a note of importance to you listeners who like Top flight adventure mysteries. Rocky Jordan joined Sam Spade and the Whistler to make this CBS threesome the best mystery adventure listening on the air. Remember that this is the time you will hear Rocky Jordan every Sunday night. And you'll want to hear too Sam Spade and the Whistler Top notch mystery on cbs. Now for the ending of tonight's story. Ace High straight. If you're ever in Cairo and crave excitement, try following a veiled woman. You'll get it. I did better than that. I chased this woman at a dead run past the beggars and the snake charmers and the street vendors of the crowd of bazaar. A pack of natives on my tail were beginning to close in. One big bo tried to block my path. I bowled him over and gathered speed again. I picked up three blocks and 30 more natives. When I caught her, she gave me quite a tussle. Let go. Let go of me. Turn around. Turn around and face him. Oh, no. My veil coming off quick and everything with it. Look her over, folks. She's not a native and she's not a woman. He's uncle's little nephew, Junior Queen. Right then the cop in the corner came pushing through the crowd. I turned Junior Queen over to him for safekeeping and gave him a message for Sabia. Within two minutes, the pack of natives had faded away like a snowman in the desert. Well, I kept moving. I backtracked through the bazaar, grabbed a roving taxi and directed it to Dahabi at 10 on the double. We got there in record time. I hit the pier running, crossed it and went up the canopy gangplank that led to Angel's little houseboat on the Nile. I didn't stop to knock. It seems I was just in time. Raji, you ain't here. Close the door, Mr. Jordan. And lock it. This is most convenient. I see you found another gun, Queen. Oh, Rocky Milton. What? Shut up. Yes, I know Maxie's memory was bad. Your husband's name is Queen, not King. Oh, yes. Natural mistake. Now that you know, it makes no difference. Naturally. You killed Ace Warner and he wants to kill me. Rocky and I will. Oh, no. The husband doesn't appreciate his wife leaving him. Especially when she takes his last cent and gives to a no good gambler. So you killed him and planted the gun in my office. Then you sent me here to Angels planning to kill her after I left you Were a little slow, Queen. Not at all, Jordan. Now that you are here, it will be even more simple. I don't know why you came back. Oh, just to clear up a mistake, Queen. I thought Angel's address filled my straight. I was wrong. I should have known I was holding the Joker all the time. Very wild. Joker? Joker? Yeah, Junior Queen. Your shy little nephew. Yes. He is not my nephew. No, no, no. You hired him to disguise himself as a native woman. Knowing I wouldn't dare follow him, he planted the gun on my desk. But when Sabaya released me, you had Junior keep up the masquerade and tail me just in case. You narrate quite well, Jordan. What comes next? When you introduced me to Junior in the bazaar, I was sure I'd seen that brown eyed face before. I finally remembered it was the face on the native woman in the side street off my cafe this morning. Junior was careless with his veil. I will reprimand him. The police will enjoy such an incredible story, Jordan. After they find angel dead and know that you have been here. Oh, Milton, Please no. Go ahead, Queen, shoot her. Get it over with. What? Rocky, what are you saying? Please don't. What do you think Sam Sabai has been doing since he talked to Junior? Junior? Where is he? Locked up in the Cairo jail? No. The police know everything. Queen. If you doubt me, look out the front window. Oh, I daunt you. It's an old trick, but it worked. As Queen turned toward the front, I reached out and knocked off his thick glasses. He whirled and started firing blindly. I grabbed angel and dragged her to the floor. But the bullets didn't hit anywhere near us. Just then Sam Savia started pounding in the front door. Queen dropped the gun, ran through the back room. And the last I saw him, he was disappearing through an open window. Jordan, you here? Where's Milton? Queen, get out your water wing. Sam, Milton went for a swim. Greco, get after him. But Captain, I cannot swim. It is an order, Greco. All right. Don't worry, Greco. It's only three feet deep. You'll find Queen among the bulrushes. Now, Jordan, about Angel, is she. No, she's not dead. Just passed out. I must have stepped on her sore foot when I pulled her down. Yes, yes. She's suffering only mild shock. You know, that's something I'm still trying to figure out. Sam, how did she hurt that foot? Her foot? Jordan? Why? I received a full report on the accident yesterday. Yeah? What happened? A camel stepped on it. Rocky Jordan is presented from Columbia Square in Hollywood and stars Jack Moyles in the title role. Tonight's story was written by Gomer Cool and was produced and directed by Cliff Howell with original music by Milton Charles. This is cbs, the Columbia Broadcasting System.