The Fat Man 51-01-17 (253) The Nightmare Murder

Summary

Podcast Summary: "The Fat Man 51-01-17 (253) The Nightmare Murder"

Podcast Information:

• Title: Harold's Old Time Radio
• Host/Author: Harold's Old Time Radio
• Episode: The Fat Man 51-01-17 (253) The Nightmare Murder
• Release Date: July 21, 2025

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Introduction

The Nightmare Murder is a gripping episode from Harold's Old Time Radio series, immersing listeners in a classic mystery narrative reminiscent of the Golden Age of Radio. The story revolves around a perplexing murder case involving George Dutton, an alcoholic writer, and the enigmatic Lydia Bradshaw. Throughout the episode, listeners are taken on a journey filled with suspense, intrigue, and unexpected twists, all expertly narrated by Brad Runyon.

Plot Overview

The episode centers on Brad Runyon, a detective, who is hired by George Dutton to prove his innocence in the alleged murder of a young woman, Lydia Bradshaw. Dutton claims to have witnessed Lydia's death but finds himself doubted by everyone around him, including the police. As Runyon delves deeper into the case, he uncovers connections between Lydia, her family, and a mysterious poetical work titled In Praise of Death. The investigation leads Runyon through a web of deceit, leading to a climactic confrontation that challenges his perceptions of reality and truth.

Key Characters

• Brad Runyon: The protagonist and detective attempting to solve the murder mystery.
• George Dutton: An alcoholic writer who believes he witnessed the murder of Lydia Bradshaw.
• Lydia Bradshaw / Joan Cameron: The purported victim whose mysterious death is at the heart of the case.
• Uncle Charles Bradshaw: Lydia's guardian, implicated in questionable activities.
• Mr. Bellchar: The butler at Lydia's residence who becomes a suspect.

Detailed Summary

Initial Contact and Setup (00:24 – 04:10)

The episode begins with Brad Runyon receiving a distressing call from George Dutton (00:32). Dutton, an author struggling with alcoholism, claims he inadvertently caused Lydia Bradshaw's death. He describes a surreal encounter where he and Lydia shared drinks, culminating in Lydia's apparent suicide. Dutton is convinced of his involvement and hires Runyon for $100 to investigate (02:24 – 04:10).

Notable Quote:

• George Dutton (00:44): "Surrounded by the bottle tonight no one better lean."

Investigating George Dutton (04:16 – 09:56)

Runyon visits Melville Hospital's alcoholic ward to meet Dutton but finds little evidence supporting his claims. The janitor vouches for seeing Dutton all night, contradicting his story. Runyon's skepticism grows as he uncovers Dutton's history of similar delusions, including an incident involving Adolf Hitler trapped in a booth years prior (05:28 – 09:56).

Notable Quote:

• Brad Runyon (08:07): "I refunded him 50 bucks of the hundred he gave me, recommended a good psychiatrist and took off."

Clues and Connections (09:56 – 16:09)

Runyon discovers a book of poems titled In Praise of Death by Lydia Bradshaw discarded in a trash can near a neon sign called the Red Rooster. He recognizes Lydia's likeness from a magazine ad and confronts her at a local bar. Lydia, posing as her cousin Joan Cameron, denies any knowledge of Dutton or her supposed death, raising Runyon’s suspicions (09:56 – 16:09).

Notable Quote:

• Lydia Bradshaw (10:03): "Baudelaire. Lousy translation."

Unraveling the Mystery (16:09 – 21:03)

Runyon delves deeper into Lydia's background, learning about her tumultuous relationship with Greg Stanhope, who tragically committed suicide after their breakup. A mysterious message on a beer bottle—"Reach for the real McCoy"—leads Runyon to suspect a cover-up surrounding Lydia's death (16:13 – 21:03).

Notable Quote:

• Brad Runyon (18:07): "Don't let them fool you, brother. Reach for the real McCoy."

Confrontation and Revelation (21:03 – 27:19)

Runyon confronts George Dutton again, presenting the newfound evidence that challenges Dutton's narrative. Simultaneously, Lydia Bradshaw's true identity and intentions are revealed. A confrontation ensues where it becomes clear that Lydia and Uncle Charles are involved in a scheme to cover up financial embezzlement linked to her supposed death (21:03 – 27:19).

Notable Quote:

• Brad Runyon (25:07): "In Praise of Death, by Lydia Bradshaw. This mean anything to you?"

Climactic Conclusion (27:19 – End)

The episode culminates in a tense showdown where Runyon exposes the truth behind Lydia's death and Uncle Charles's embezzlement. George Dutton's delusions are confirmed as Runyon successfully untangles the web of deceit, ensuring that justice is served and the real murderer is apprehended (27:19 – 28:53).

Notable Quote:

• Brad Runyon (26:17): "Mr. Bradshaw."

Conclusion

The Nightmare Murder expertly weaves a complex narrative filled with red herrings, character depth, and psychological intrigue. Through Brad Runyon's relentless pursuit of the truth, listeners are treated to a masterfully crafted mystery that echoes the storytelling brilliance of radio's golden era. Notable dialogues and well-timed revelations keep the audience engaged till the very end, making this episode a standout in the Harold's Old Time Radio series.

Key Quotes with Timestamps

• George Dutton (00:44): "Surrounded by the bottle tonight no one better lean."
• Brad Runyon (08:07): "I refunded him 50 bucks of the hundred he gave me, recommended a good psychiatrist and took off."
• Lydia Bradshaw (10:03): "Baudelaire. Lousy translation."
• Brad Runyon (18:07): "Don't let them fool you, brother. Reach for the real McCoy."
• Brad Runyon (25:07): "In Praise of Death, by Lydia Bradshaw. This mean anything to you?"

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Note: This summary excludes advertisements, intros, outros, and non-content sections, focusing solely on the narrative and critical dialogues that drive the episode's storyline.

Transcript

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[George Dutton]

No purchase necessary vgw group void where prohibited by law 21 + terms and conditions apply. Here comes the fat man in the.

[Brad Runyon]

Nightmare murder Starring J. Scott Smart.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

There he goes. He's stepping on the scales. Weight 237 pounds. Fortune danger. Who is it?

[Brad Runyon]

The fat man. It takes a good man to make a first class old fashioned. You have to muddle the sugar, bitters and water properly. Then toss in the ice and whiskey. And then carefully twist the lemon peel on top. Like anything else, it's simply a matter of following the recipe. But here's another illustration. If you take a liberal jigger of motive, add a slice of opportunity and a dash of means, and then pile a dozen or more old fashions on top of this, you're quite likely to end up with a real gruesome hangover murder. Like any solid, normal, routine job, this one began in my office. It was just after lunch. My feet were on the desk. I was munching a peppermint. I'd popped the latest edition just south of the bulge that marked the last resting place of a brace of breaded pork chops when the phone rang. Runyon speaking.

[George Dutton]

The detective?

[Brad Runyon]

That's the debatable point. But I like to think so. Who's this?

[George Dutton]

My name's George Dutton. Maybe you've heard of me.

[Brad Runyon]

Oh, you mean the author.

[George Dutton]

Well, that's a debatable point, too. I write mystery stories.

[Brad Runyon]

Yes, I know about private eyes who get hit on the head.

[George Dutton]

Look, I've never had any need for a private eye. I don't even know what one looks like. I never even saw a pistol or a gangster or a corpse. Until last night. A corpse, that is.

[Brad Runyon]

Wait. Just wait a minute. Let's take this in secret. Are you hiring me?

[George Dutton]

Maybe. How much?

[Brad Runyon]

50 in expenses.

[George Dutton]

Well, that's a lot. But I need you pretty badly.

[Brad Runyon]

What's the trouble?

[George Dutton]

I. I killed a girl last night. I want you to prove it.

[Brad Runyon]

Say that again. And slow.

[George Dutton]

You better come down here right away.

[Brad Runyon]

Where are you?

[George Dutton]

Melville Hospital. Alcoholic ward.

[Brad Runyon]

The closest I'D ever been to the alcoholic ward at Melville, was reading the Lost Weekend. After I convinced them I wasn't a prospective client, they gave me some of the dope on George Dutton. Their assumption was his writer's imagination had picked up an Italian collaborator during the period in question. Namely a batch of martinis.

[George Dutton]

Runyon.

[Brad Runyon]

Yeah. What can I do for you, George?

[George Dutton]

Sit down on the bed.

[Brad Runyon]

Don't.

[George Dutton]

Take it easy, will you? My head.

[Brad Runyon]

I know what you mean. Is that better?

[George Dutton]

Yeah. Now, look, you're gonna think I'm crazy like the rest of them, but I'm not paying you for an opinion.

[Brad Runyon]

Here.

[George Dutton]

Here's two days worth. 100 bucks.

[Brad Runyon]

Thanks. Now, for this. I'm supposed to hang a murder app on you, huh? Or did I hear it right over the phone?

[George Dutton]

You did. At least I'll know, Runyon. If it happened, if I killed her, at least I'll know I'm not crazy. Anything's better than that kind of doubt, Runyon. Anything.

[Brad Runyon]

Now, take it easy, George. Just tell me about it, huh?

[George Dutton]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Calm, collected, lucid, logical. Right? Yeah, yeah, okay. I've been working hard, see, trying to meet my publisher's deadline on the novel. I got tired last night around 7 and went to bed. Dead, wrung out, gone, you know? Now, this I'm sure of. Somewhere around 10 or 11 o', clock, I got up, put on my clothes and went out for a walk around the block. I just turned the corner when it happened.

[Brad Runyon]

Why?

[George Dutton]

I'd seen the car a lot in my neighborhood. Black Buick convertible. I'd seen the girl in it, too. Stunning girl. Blonde, eyes like sapphires. Figure like.

[Brad Runyon]

Well, yeah, I know what you mean. So what?

[George Dutton]

So she. So she pulled up to the curb and asked me to get in.

[Brad Runyon]

How come?

[George Dutton]

Well, Am I so horrible? She did it, that's all.

[Brad Runyon]

Okay. Who was he?

[George Dutton]

I don't know. I don't know anything about her. She handed me a bottle. And that's how it started.

[Brad Runyon]

Mistake number one.

[George Dutton]

You're so right. So anyway, we drove around for a while and I listened to her talk. And pretty soon the bottle was gone. So she pulled out another one and pretty soon that one was gone too.

[Brad Runyon]

What's she talking about? Death.

[George Dutton]

Yeah, yeah, yeah. It seemed perfectly normal at the time. She was fascinated by death. Wrote poems about it, she said. Quoted from them all the time. Anyway, things got pretty fuzzy about then. I don't remember much. People, voices, lights. One thing, though, Runya. One thing. There was a big red rooster about 10ft high.

[Brad Runyon]

Oh, yeah. Naturally, it wouldn't be an evening without one. What was he?

[George Dutton]

Oh, wait a minute. Wait a minute. A sign run you A neon sign. I remember it blinking at me while she stopped by the trash can.

[Brad Runyon]

What trash can?

[George Dutton]

How do I know what trash can? A trash can. There was the Red Rooster and the trash can. And she stopped and took something out of her purse and dropped it in. There were more lights and more people and more riding in the car. And then pretty soon, we were alone. She was pouring drinks for the two of us.

[Brad Runyon]

Now, where was this?

[George Dutton]

I don't know. You got me. She handed me a glass. See? Erased hers. For a toast. To death, she said. And I saw she had a gun in her hand, pointing it at her head. I grabbed it, got a hold of it, but it went off.

[Brad Runyon]

Oh, great.

[George Dutton]

Last thing I remember was her lying on the floor. And then the floor was rushing up at me. Well, that's it.

[Brad Runyon]

What do you mean, that's it? What happened after that?

[George Dutton]

Nothing. When I opened my eyes, I was in my own bed, in my own apartment with my clothes right where I'd left them at seven the night before. The night man swears. I wasn't out of my room all night. Nobody believed me. They said I dreamed it. I had a couple more drinks, found the cop on the beat and told him too. That's how I got here. They all think I'm crazy. Well, maybe I am. Maybe I am. But go on, find out for me. Runyon. Get on it. Will you get on it.

[Brad Runyon]

So I got on it first. There was a janitor at George's apartment place. Mr. Runyon, I benightman here for 12 years. I know George Dutton as long as he lives here. He couldn't leave this building last night without me seeing him. And I didn't see him. You can take my word, he's not. Then there was the bartender George had mentioned. Look, all I know is he come in at an indecent hour this morning screaming for the hair of the dog that bit him. Just like all the other times. Yeah, especially the last time. What happened last time? Oh, same thing. Couple of years ago. Only that night he got out of bed and trapped Adolf Hitler in the information booth at Grand Central. The cop who'd hauled him over to Melville said the same thing. Likewise, a couple of newsboys. Verdict unanimous. George was a lush and a loony, and I was inclined to go along with him on the theory that a special convertible, complete with blonde, is something even a New Yorker will stop and look at. I quizzed the Service stations around George's apartment house. Sure enough, up comes the guy who'd greased its gold plated chassis only a month before the record showed it belonged to Olivia Bradshaw at a Park Avenue address that went with the car. So I trotted over. Some kind of a soiree was going on in the huge living room. The butler looked at me, raised his eyebrows one at a time, and finally decided I wouldn't run off at the silver plate and hustle me into the library, which seemed to have another occupant.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

As a spirit with yellow eyes gleaming Will I to thy courage Come again.

[Brad Runyon]

When you say that smile. What is it, this book?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Baudelaire. Lousy translation. By the way, I'm Joan Cameron, Lydia's poor country cousin. Who are you? One of Uncle Charles? Tribal sycophants?

[Brad Runyon]

Oh, I'm not sure what that means, but I don't think so. My name's Brad Runyon. Oh. Where is Lydia, by the way?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Out somewhere. You looking for?

[Brad Runyon]

Yeah.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Well, you're just in time. She and Uncle Charles are going abroad. You know, sailing tonight.

[Brad Runyon]

Oh. Who's Uncle Charles?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Lydia's guardian keeper to the keys to the Bradshaw exchequer.

[Brad Runyon]

That sounds important.

[George Dutton]

It is.

[Brad Runyon]

Oh, in the chips, huh? Oh, no.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

He does have a pair of scissors to cut the coupons for Lydia, which, incidentally, is a full time job. And that concludes my dissertation on the Bradshaws. A morbid subject at best. Let's talk about you.

[Brad Runyon]

Sure, sweetheart. After we talk about a quick way I can get a hold of Uncle Charles.

[George Dutton]

I beg your pardon.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

This friend is Uncle Charles.

[Brad Runyon]

Pretty quick. How do you do, Mr. Bellchar? Ah, Mr. Runyon, isn't it?

[George Dutton]

It is.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Now, if you'll excuse me.

[Brad Runyon]

Strange girl. Now, Mr. Runyon, I've come on a peculiar errand. Miss Badger, when do you expect your niece Lydia to act? Oh, in an hour, perhaps 2. 5. I wonder if she'd consider making a short visit to Melville Hospital. Melville? Good heavens. What for? A client of mine thinks he killed her last night. Now, just a minute. What kind of nonsense is this? I know it sounds crazy, but it isn't nonsense. His name's George Dutton and he's in the alcoholic ward. He fell off the wagon last night, but hard. He has seen your niece riding around her convertible. She impressed him. So instead of the usual pink elephants, he had some hallucination about taking a ride with her last night and killing her. We can't talk him out of it. That's fantastic. What do you want Lydia to do about it? Well, just Stop by the hospital and convince him he's wrong. That's all. But don't you understand? We're sailing for Europe at midnight. Now, look, this will only take her 10 minutes, and it may mean the man's sanity. Well, otherwise he's liable to be running around to the police and the newspapers. Well, I'll ask Lydia to drop by. Good, then. Thanks. I'll be running along then. Sorry to trouble you, Mr. Bradshaw.

[George Dutton]

Well, what's the verdict? Run?

[Brad Runyon]

You.

[George Dutton]

You think I'm nuts now too, huh?

[Brad Runyon]

George, listen. Listen. Now, hold of yourself. This doesn't mean you're nuts. Could happen.

[George Dutton]

Shut up. Shut up. What was her name?

[Brad Runyon]

Lydia Bradshaw.

[George Dutton]

Bradshaw?

[Brad Runyon]

Yeah. And she's coming over here to see.

[George Dutton]

Now, listen, Runyon. You're working for me, see? You're not working for them. You're working.

[Brad Runyon]

Wait a minute, George.

[George Dutton]

You listen to me. I'm telling you, this happened. I was there. I wasn't in bed dreaming it. This dame is dead. Do you understand that? Shut up over there. I won't shut up. I'm telling you kids, you'll go off your rockers.

[Brad Runyon]

Now, look, Doc. Wait. Look, George, there's no use arguing about it. I talked to her uncle. The girl's coming here. That'll convince you, won't it?

[George Dutton]

She's not coming here because she's dead. She's dead. I held her with these two arms. I heard the gun go off. I felt her go limp in my arms and my arms. Oh, no, no.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

I'm sorry. Who?

[Brad Runyon]

George D. Right over there.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

I'm Lydia Bradshaw.

[Brad Runyon]

Well, what about it, George? You.

[George Dutton]

You.

[Brad Runyon]

Hello.

[Ryan Seacrest]

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[George Dutton]

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[Ryan Seacrest]

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[Brad Runyon]

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[George Dutton]

You're all right.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

What do you mean?

[George Dutton]

Mr. Duffer, last night. Last night we were together. Don't you remember?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Why, no. Sorry, I don't. I don't remember ever seeing you before.

[George Dutton]

Go away. Go away.

[Brad Runyon]

Come on.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Isn't there anything I can do?

[Brad Runyon]

No. You may as well go now.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

But the poor man.

[George Dutton]

You heard what he said. Now go on, get out of here. Get out.

[Brad Runyon]

I'm terrible, Sal. Thanks very much, Ms. Branch.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

I do hope you'll be all right.

[Brad Runyon]

Yeah. Good night.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Good night.

[Brad Runyon]

Well, George, is that the girl?

[George Dutton]

Yeah, that's the girl.

[Brad Runyon]

So that tied it up. I refunded him 50 bucks of the hundred he gave me, recommended a good psychiatrist and took off. It was after my dinner time, so I walked toward the East 50s, a little Italian restaurant that makes wonderful lasagna. Suddenly I found myself looking across the street at a bar on the opposite corner with a blazing red rooster in neon lights. Of course, he could have dreamed this, too. In his heyday, he probably knew every pub in town. But the business of the trash can opposite the entrance, which was right where he said it was, was pretty accurate dreaming, even for a professional dreamer like George. For this reason, I decided to sacrifice my dignity. I sidled up to the trash can and began probing around it. Was there a sweet, slim volume in black Morocco with gold lettering on the COVID reading skyward Poems in Praise of Death by Lydia Bradshaw. I kicked myself for refunding that 50 bucks. I stood for a minute in the glow of the Red Rooster sign and thumbed through the book of poems. Then I went into the bar. Yes, sir? What do you have? Make it a beer. Any special kind? Well, how about a tall, cool glass of McCoy's Pale Ale? That sounds like a commercial. It is. See the Sign up there. Don't let them fool your brother.

[George Dutton]

Reach for the real McCoy.

[Brad Runyon]

Okay, I'm sold. Wrong. Right. I clocked my real McCoy and skimmed through Lydia's Ode to the Dark angel, tossing a Morocco bound book into a trash can. It seemed a strange thing for a girl to do until you read the poetry, whereupon it became clearly the only thing to do. It was so awful, I gave up trying to read it and concentrated on the funnest piece, which, as with all privately printed works, was a picture of the author. Looking at it now, it seemed to me as if I'd seen Lydia Bradshaw somewhere before. Somewhere before she'd walked into George's room at the hospital. But I couldn't put my finger on it. How about another real McCoy? No, no. Wait a minute. Don't go away. Yeah? Were you here last night? Sure. Why? Here, take a look at this picture. You ever seen her? Who is she? Name's Lydia Bradshaw. Was she in here last night? I don't know. Maybe, but I don't remember seeing her. She came in with the after theater bunch. I wouldn't remember anyway. Marvin here, four deep at the bar.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Why, Frank.

[Brad Runyon]

Huh? Oh, excuse me.

[George Dutton]

I got.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Wait a minute, Frank. What do you mean you don't know Lydia?

[Brad Runyon]

Well, I didn't say that, Ms. Cameron. I just. Well, I mean, I didn't say I don't know her. I only said I wouldn't remember if she was in here during rush hour last night. Excuse me, I got a customer waiting.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Customer, my foot. The liar. Oh, please. Don't think I'm Dogging your footsteps, Mr. Robert.

[Brad Runyon]

How do you happen to come here always? Do you say he knows your cousin, Lydia Bradshaw?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

He ought to. She owns the place. Tell me, did you steal that book from the library?

[Brad Runyon]

No, no, no. I picked it out of the trash can outside.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

What?

[Brad Runyon]

Yeah, yeah.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Scout's on her, but it's the only one she has left. She'd die before she throw it away.

[Brad Runyon]

How about afterwards?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

What do you mean?

[Brad Runyon]

No, just skip it. Here, look at this inscription on the fly leaf. To Greg, someday I'll find you. What does she mean by that?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Greg Stanhope. She used to think she was in love with him. Maybe she was, I don't know. But Uncle Charles decided it was wrong and broke it up. A fatal mistake, I might add.

[Brad Runyon]

Why fatal?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

They found Greg the next day with a champagne glass in one hand and a gun in the other. He'd shot himself.

[Brad Runyon]

Hello, George. Yeah, this is Runyon.

[George Dutton]

What do you waste your time on me for, Runyon? I'm nuts, you know.

[Brad Runyon]

Now, shut up. George, take it easy. Ask me a couple of questions. Do you know anybody named Stanhope?

[George Dutton]

Greg Stanhope?

[Brad Runyon]

Yeah.

[George Dutton]

No, I never heard of him.

[Brad Runyon]

Uh huh. How did you happen to say Greg?

[George Dutton]

I don't know. It just popped into my head. Greg Stanhope. It goes together somehow. Greg. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. I do know. Yeah, she was. She was talking about him last night. That's who she toasted when she raised her glass just before she.

[Brad Runyon]

Okay, okay. Now, one more question, George. Did anyone see you leave the building last night?

[George Dutton]

Well, sure. The janitor.

[Brad Runyon]

Anyone else? No. Well, look, supposing it went like you said. Suppose someone picked you off the floor at the Bradshaw apartment and brought you home. Is there anyone who'd know exactly where to hang your clothes and straighten out the rest of your apartment besides you?

[George Dutton]

Sure, the janitor would, but he already.

[Brad Runyon]

Told me he's got a couple of sidelines. George, as a writer, this may come as a disappointment to you, but you aren't nuts. Listen, Mr. Onion, get your foot out of my door before. Take it easy, pal. I'm coming in. I already told you all I know about George Dutton that I'm inclined to doubt. Now sit down, pal. You've had a hard day pushing a broom and raking in cash. What I should call a cop? There's a law against breaking into a guy's apartment. There's also a law against criminal conspiracy. I said I give it you this afternoon. All of it.

[George Dutton]

Don't call me no criminal conspiracy because I'm janitor.

[Brad Runyon]

No criminal, see? How much did Charles Bradshaw pay you to tell me George wasn't out of his apartment last night? I don't know nothing, I tell you.

[George Dutton]

Now get out of here.

[Brad Runyon]

Now you come clean first. You saw George coming and going. You helped Bradshaw put him to bed last night.

[George Dutton]

No, I didn't. Honest, I didn't.

[Brad Runyon]

You better level with me, buster, before I knock. Come near me. Someone had fired through the window and nailed the janitor before I could make him talk. I rushed over, opened the window and hit the back alley in half a minute flat. But it was too late. The car roared off half a block away, and that was that. I walked back to where the killer must have stood, trying to make sense out of nonsense. I'd run into my share of murders, but this was the first time in my book that someone committed one to cover up another one someone else had confessed to. Now, if that sounds confusing, it's only because it was A party was going on three floors up. It was nice to know someone was having a good time, because I wasn't. I leaned back against the wall and mopped my head. There had to be an answer somewhere, and it was lucky I'd leaned back, or I would have been brained. A bottle whistled down three floors and glanced off my shoulder and bounced into some soft rubbish in the alley. I picked it up, looked at the label, and suddenly it hit me. It was an answer from out of the blue. Don't let them fool you, brother, it said. Reach for the real McCoy. I found the phone, called the hospital and left instructions for George. Then I hailed a cab and rushed over to Lydia Bradshaw's apartment. What time is it, Miss Bradshaw? Yes. Yeah, bachelor.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

It's almost 11. As I told you, Mr. Runyon, Uncle Charles is extremely busy taking care of the baggage and won't have time to talk to you before we see.

[Brad Runyon]

Yeah, sure, sure. I know how come you forgot that trunk over there, Ms. Bradshaw. Bradshaw. I'm having a tough time with that name. What about that trunk?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

It's full of his first editions for the vault while we're gone.

[Brad Runyon]

Now, let's see. Where was I?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Will you stop reading that stupid book?

[Brad Runyon]

Stupid? Listen to this. Astride the cosmic threshold, I gazed back toward the old familiar lighted realm once more. Then resolute to turn my face the new way toward the wild, unlighted shore. Three guesses now. Byron Keats or Nick Kenny?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

I don't know and I don't care.

[Brad Runyon]

You ought to know, baby. You wrote it.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

What do you mean, Mr. Onion Bombs?

[Brad Runyon]

In Praise of Death, by Lydia Bradshaw. This mean anything to you?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

An empty beer bottle, isn't it?

[Brad Runyon]

Yeah. Someone almost brained me with it tonight. McCoy's Pale Ale. Don't let him fool you, brother. Reach for the real McCoy. Still don't remember.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Should I?

[Brad Runyon]

Yeah. Took me a while, but I did. I wondered why you looked familiar to me.

[George Dutton]

Me?

[Brad Runyon]

Yeah, you. Two girls, two pictures. One of these girls is Lydia Bradshaw, Park Avenue debutante. And the other is a professional model. Which one is the real McCoy? It was an ad in all the magazines three years ago.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

You figured out which is which by now, I presume?

[Brad Runyon]

Yeah. Why did you play along with him?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Is there any harm in it?

[Brad Runyon]

Well, I can think of about six laws you're breaking. Not the least of which is criminal conspiracy.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Criminal? What are you.

[Brad Runyon]

Just a minute, Lydia. Stay where you are, both of you.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Well, my name's not Lydia. Let's stop the pretense.

[Brad Runyon]

Gonna make it A double header tonight, Uncle Charles, I might.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Double what?

[Brad Runyon]

Murder.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Murder.

[George Dutton]

What is he.

[Brad Runyon]

Shut up.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Murder? I didn't know anything about this. Or. You said she killed herself. And you wanted to avoid a scandal about suicide.

[Brad Runyon]

It was a scandal, all right, but not about suicide. Was it, Uncle Charles?

[Lydia Bradshaw]

But what was it?

[Brad Runyon]

When Lydia killed herself last night. It threw the whole estate into the hands of the executives. Opened the books to the accountants. How much had you embezzled, Uncle Charles? A couple hundred GS? Maybe more than that, Runyon. But you're wrong on technicality. It's not a scandal. Not unless it gets out. And it's not going to get out. I killed once. They can't do any more to me for two or three. You can't cover it that way, Branson. No. Watch me, Runyon.

[George Dutton]

Watch me. Don't.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

Mr. Bradshaw.

[Brad Runyon]

No.

[George Dutton]

Hey, Runyon. Runyon. This is the place.

[Brad Runyon]

George, you're just in time.

[Lydia Bradshaw]

You killed him.

[Brad Runyon]

No. But he's going to have quite a headache. The McCoy company puts out a good bottle, too.

[George Dutton]

Catcher.

[Brad Runyon]

Two down. Put her on the sofa, George, while I call headquarters.

[George Dutton]

Lydia Bradshaw.

[Brad Runyon]

No. No. This is the reasonably accurate facsimile. We'll find Lydia Bradshaw in that trunk over there.

[George Dutton]

Well, then I did kill her.

[Brad Runyon]

No. No, you didn't. She committed suicide, but her guardian didn't dare. Let it be known, or he'd have been discovered as an embezzler.

[George Dutton]

What do you mean?

[Brad Runyon]

Skip it for now. I need a drink. How about you.

[George Dutton]

Runyon? If it's all the same to you, I'll take sarsaparill.

[Brad Runyon]

The Fat man, starring J. Scott Smart, was directed by Clark Andrews. The script was written by Harold Swanton. Heard on tonight's show were Lyle Sudro as George Dutton. And Gertrude Warner as as Joan Cameron. The music was composed by Mark Winston, your announcer, Don Lowe. Listen next week to another exciting adventure of the Fat Man. G Note for murder.

[George Dutton]

This program came to you from New York. Samsung Galaxy S25. Con Galaxy AI por cuenta una life.

[Ryan Seacrest]

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