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The Great Detectives of Old Time Radio| Daily Mystery Dramas
Broadway's My Beat: The Johnny Hill Murder Case (EP4793)
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Today's Mystery: A Chicago gangster is found murdered in a swank New York hotel room. Original Radio Broadcast Date: November 10, 1950 Originating from Hollywood Starring: Larry Thor as Lieutenant Danny Clover; Charles Calvert as Sergeant Gino...
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This is the story of the 1. As a maintenance supervisor at a manufacturing facility, he knows keeping the line up and running is a top priority. That's why he chooses Grainger, because when a drive belt gets damaged, Grainger makes it easy to find the exact specs for the replacement product he needs. And next day delivery helps ensure he'll have everything in place and running like clockwork. Call 1-800-GRAINGER clickgrainger.com or just stop by Grainger for the ones who get it done. Sam welcome to the Great detectives of Old Time Radio from Boise, Idaho. This is your host, Adam Graham. In a moment, we're going to bring you this week's episode of Broadway's My Beat. But first, I do want to encourage you if you're enjoying the podcast, to please follow us using your favorite podcast software. And our listener support and appreciation campaign continues. And I want to welcome our latest Patreon supporter, Connie coming on board at the rookie level of $2 or more per month. And you can support the podcast as one of our Patreon supporters. Patreon.greatdetactives.net and determine what series we're going to play on Monday following the conclusion of Danger with Granger. You just go to patreon.greatdetectives.net but now, from November 10, 1950, here is the Johnny Hill murder case. Broadway's My Beat. From Times Square to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway's My Beat. With Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Broadway takes its nighttime out of the river. The autumn mists rise from the water, scurl down the furious avenues of the city and moisten the shadows. And for an instant, Broadway is stunned. Night has come too swiftly. It's suddenly November, and the people of the time clock go home to dinner in darkness. And I watched it from my window at headquarters. The crowd fragments breaking off here and there to try its luck in this doorway. And that wiped my hand across the frosting glass and considered it. That's why I didn't hear the man when he came in. Huh? Man's lying dead. Who are you? What are you talking about? I'm Finch. Room service. Hotel Hatton Finch. What are you trying to tell me about a man lying dead in the penthouse Hotel Haddon? I walked in to deliver the drinks, noted that the drapes were drawn, noted that the spread had not been drawn back, noted that he hadn't taken off his shoes, and noted that he was dead. How could you tell he didn't move. I tapped him on the shoulder. Didn't breathe either inhale or exhale. That's being dead. You notified the manager? Did you hear me say I did that? No. No, of course you didn't. I'm reporting it directly to the police. So it'll be on the records that I found the man. Finch found him. Finch. F I, N C H, Allen Finch. You'll tell the papers that. Danny Clover speaking. Homicide. Danny. Call just came in. Where? Red House Hotel. Hat. You going to take it? Right away, Taglia Finch. F I N, C H. Allan Finch. Don't forget it. What do you want? Oh, it's you, Danny. I'm glad it's you. Makes you happy. Humar. Yeah, Come on in. That comic on television, he kills me. You ever watch him, Danny? Uh, you should. You should look. Look at. He killed me. Where is he, Marl? The dead one? He's in the bedroom. Come on, I'll show you. If you could tear yourself away from the comic. Ah, Danny, don't be like that. How many laughs does a house dig get in a day? I mean for free. There he is, Danny. On his 20 buck a day bed. Shut the door. The television is for free too, Danny. In every room. We can cop a look in between, you know. Shut the door. Whatever you say, Danny. Who was he Here? I'll hold up his head so you can look at him. Looks different, huh? We've been waiting a long time to see him like this, huh, Danny? Johnny Hill. The same. A little punctured, but the same. Danny Hill. Tell me about it. A lady was bidding a gentleman good night at the door. While lost in a kiss, she heard shots. She told me so on the phone. Did she see anyone leave this apartment? It was all too frustrating. She didn't see a thing because her eyes were filled with tears. She told me boyfriend scurried away. Didn't want to get caught in a mess. The lady Web. Any ideas moral on who put so many holes in him? Except everybody who ever wanted Johnny Hill, dad. Johnny Hill, king of the Chicago hooligans. Wanted for all the small print in the book, who is to put the finger on who wanted him dead? I wanted it, you wanted it. Who didn't want it, Danny? Tell me so I can get him a free room in this classy fee bag. After that there wasn't anything much. Morrow said he was going back and look at the comic. Except now the comic was through and there was a cowboy instead, which was even better. Morrow assured me when the boys from Technical came. They were on Morrow's side. When I asked everybody why the cowboy carried three guns, they sneered at me, so I left. Then it was legwork. Find out why a hoodlum from Chicago had come to New York to die. Ring doorbells. Ask a man in a midnight blue dinner jacket what he knew about the death of Johnny Hill. Have him back into five more midnight blue dinner jackets. Alibis. Then the nightclub circuit. Start where the COVID charge is $10 and the upholstery genuine. And ask questions. Get no answers. Then to the joints of plastic leather and no dance floor and no minimum. And get no answers. Then to the dives of the open collar and the biggest beer in town for a dime. In one of them there's a man. His name is Benny Fain. He's not happy. Go away, Benny. What's the matter with you, Benny? Nothing. He used to help us out. What happened? I'm not stolen no more, that's all. Go away, Danny. Because you don't want to tell me about Johnny Hill. Yes, go away. Suppose the boys around got to know you used to work for me, Benny. What about Johnny Hill? Yesterday. That's when he hit town. Where'd he go? There's people watching us. There's nobody watching us. Where'd he go? Checked in at the Hat. They went to where they all go, Danny. The Griffin Club. Please go away. That's all you know. I swear on the Mrs. The Mrs. Is doing time at the state reformatory. But you'll be out in 10 years. The griffin. Clap, Danny. The Griffin Club was a polite brownstone mansion that peaked at the park through white lace curtains needle pointed with aqua griffons, its decor, late Prohibition, its membership, lovely ladies and equally elegant gentlemen, their amusement, conversation of latter day hooligans who have become quality folk. I knew that because when I walked in, the tinkle stopped, the whisper of silk took over and I was looked at as if I were a cheap wine spilled on the fawn colored rug. A lady rose quickly to wipe away the stain I was making in their drawing room. I'm afraid you've made a mistake. We are only for members. We suggest the wives. Right? Don't you know me, Betsy? You're full of them, aren't you? Mistakes. I'm Mrs. Crane, Vice President in charge of accepting and rejecting. Oh, sure you are, Betsy. All right, so I know you. You're running out of your class, aren't you? Dining? I don't think so. Johnny Hill made me a member of having a lovely time. Till you walked In. You turned it sour, I recall. That's the way you are. I said Johnny Hill, and you didn't even drop your fan. Dropped it, Betsy. So I'll have to pick it up for you. Isn't Chicago, uh, in the morgue? But you know that, don't you, Betsy? He finally made it. I'm glad for Johnny. You'll tell him before that? He did all the normal things for him. Checked in at the Haddon penthouse, came here, then back to the Haddon. Died in his bed. Normal Johnny. I'll tell my friends how it was. Thanks, Danny. They've been itching to know. And you'll tell me the things that Johnny did here, won't you, Betsy? For old times sake. Grab a handful of canopies, Danny. Take some to your friends because we're through reminiscing. Wait. I'll get you a brown paper bag. I couldn't go without you, Betsy. You've got nothing. Not on me, not on the club. Only a murdered Johnny Hill. You know how these things work, Betsy. Hold you on suspicion day, month long as you want. What happens to your vice presidency then? Took me a long time. It's mine. No part of it belongs to anyone else. Sure. Think how hard you worked for it, Betsy. I rocked myself to sleep thinking about it. All right. Johnny came in here about 4 o' clock last night. Alone for a while. Alone for about an hour. He nibbled at the caviar, the entertainment. And he got bored, called Nick, joined. Nick was here. Johnny called him, didn't he? Johnny calls. People come. Used to. They played cards. Then something must have happened because they started calling each other names. So I called Johnny's boy to break it up. He came, he did. Johnny's boy. Who is it now? Harry Bishop. Where? 1923 East 47. I've been awfully good to you, Danny. Didn't cost you a cent, Not a penny. Clutch it close to you because that's all you get. Goodbye forever. Danny. Yeah. You Harry Bishop? Let's go inside. Let's go, Harry. You sound like law. Uh, law. Later, law. The mood will come to me and I'll call you. I said inside. Inside. You got a permit for this gun? Gun, Harry? On the bed. Holy smokes. A gun. You shoot Johnny Hill with it, you have yourself a snip, see? Hasn't been used since the mowed down ducks on Lake Michigan. I duck hunt with a.38. The Ducks appreciate it. I wonder how that gun got here. I thought it was in Chicago. I'll ask you again. Harry, did you shoot Johnny with it? You lost your mibs? Johnny was done with a.45. How'd you know that? It wasn't in the papers. Nick carried a.45. Nick Joyner, the guy who shot Johnny. You're sure of it, huh? Johnny was killed with a.45, wasn't he? That's right. See? Nick Joyner. What happened at the Griffin Club last night? A card game with peckled cards. Johnny dropped maybe 50 G's. Nick won it with heckled cards. Maybe Johnny wasn't gonna stand for it. Maybe Nick beat him to it. You took Johnny home after the game? Back to the Hat, tucked him in. Where's Nick? I'll find him. That's why the gun. Harry, you're gonna take care of Nick. Where's Nick? Leave him to me. Let's go. If we go, you're never gonna find Nick. Come on, Harry. I'm booking you on a weapons charge. You're taking me in, huh? Where is he? Where else? Hotel Haddon, under an alias. Of what alias? Markle Merkel. Something. I don't know. I can save you the trouble, cop. I owe it to Johnny. And you'll be held for homicide. Then you'll have to catch me. I already did. Turn off your radio and let's go. Harry. Imagine Nick Joiner living under an alias. Merkel. Merkel. The thing is, a guy will go through to get a room. You didn't know about it, huh? Moral, so help me, Danny. Not till you told me. This is a big hole. I can't keep my eye on everything that draws into it. So help me, Danny. All right, get it. You think Nick's the one that got the. Danny, I asked you a civil question. The least you can do. Yeah, yeah. 1218. A room reserved for shoe salesmen. Usually must be slow in shoes. Maybe next out. Maybe. You got a pass key? Sure, Danny. I got everything. But maybe next. Open it. Whatever you say, Danny. See, Danny, he's out. Is there another room? This one with bath? All rooms with bath. Nick, I am sorry to barge in, but guess who. Danny's in the shower. Nick. Nick. Hey, Nick. Open it. Morrow. Tell him we're here. Nick. Nick. Nick can't hear you more. He can't hear anything anymore. Nick is dead. You are listening to Broadway's My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. How's for trying to sing it again this Saturday night? $5,000 in cold hard cash and $10,000 in fine. Prices are waiting for the CBS listener who can solve the new phantom voice mystery. Dan Seymour will be on hand with those coast to coast phone calls. And Alan Dale, Judy Lynn, Bob Howard and the Riddlers will be making music. It's an hour of fun and song to entertain you and perhaps pay off every Saturday night on most of these same CBS stations. Here. Sing it again this Saturday, won't you? Broadway stands on a street corner and raises its collective coat collar against the coming of winter's night. Tries to find warmth in the blaze of neon or in the ashes of a summer night's dream. For a time Broadway warms its hands of memory Tasting its glow, watching it flow, watching it die. Then it goes looking somewhere else. The Translux screams in its ear. Murder. It screams. Gangster dead in swank hotel. Nick Joyner found dead. Broadway is happy. Broadway is daring. Goes right ahead and accepts the substitute grins. It found what it was looking for at police headquarters the next day. The probing over the murder of two men, John Johnny Hill and Nick Joyner. And assisting at the probe, a man with an apple in his mouth. Good. What? I was merely remarking that this apple is good. Try on a bite, Danny. Some other time, Roger. I will save you a piece of wax paper. Look for around the water cooler, Danny. That way it'll keep cool. Anything else you're saving for me, Gino? No, nothing. Oh, you mean, uh huh. You didn't have to mention it, Danny. I was coming out with it anyway. I'm sorry. You're forgiven. If I don't forgive you, who should I? All right, Danny, all right. In the matter of the killing of Johnny Hill, hailing from Chicago, you'll tell me, huh? Well, it goes without saying, established by technicals said Johnny Hill was undone by a revolver, caliber.45. I know that. They've checked on the bullets. Found them to stem from a gun owned by Nick Joyner, hailing lately from this city. That means that. Permit me to finish your thought, Danny. That means that without a shadow of a doubt, or as Mike Schreck, the bald headed miracle detective from Philadelphia would have means that Johnny of Chicago was undone by Nick of this city because of an argument over a friendly game of cards. You know Danny, Mike Schreck coined the phrase for such cases. Open and shut. That's right. Now you'll tell me about Nick Joyner, need you ask? Nick Joyner was undone by a poison. The title of which can be found in any child's chemistry magazine. What else? Ah, Danny. We found someone who might be sorry. Nick is dead. That's what else? Who? His missus. Mrs. Claire Joyner of 902 Benton Road, Forest Hills. You know, I think I'll pen a note. This Shrek about this. Why? Well, it's a riddle to his liking. Danny, look, if Nick killed Johnny, who killed Nick? All Johnny's friends are in the cooler or in Chicago. That leaves a large question mark, you know. You don't mind if I write to Shrek about it, huh? Danny? Bye. Danny, can you come back? Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. Sorry about what? I thought you were the door to door tea salesman. The jewel truck is across the street and I was going to tell him. Who are you? Danny Clover. Police. Oh, please come in. In here. Please sit down. Thank you. I'm afraid I haven't very much time. Nick is. I know. I want to see him just once more. He's at the mortuary. I feel I ought to see him. How long has it been since you and your husband lived together? I don't know exactly how to answer that, Mr. Kruber. Oh, a month? Year. No longer than that. Once Nick brought home a black gown, strapless and cut. Well, you know, I put it on. I looked like a housewife looking ridiculous in a strapless gown. Nick left. Then he moved out? No, no, he. He moved out just a month ago. It's been three years since he bought me the gown. You knew about. About Nick's business affairs. That he was a thief, that he was a hoodlum. I knew about that. It didn't matter. I'll tell you something, Mr. Clover. Nick would go out and something would happen to him. Maybe he'd beat a man with a gun. He'd come home and stare at me. He needed me so he could feel ashamed. You still love him? While he was here, I was glad he's gone. But I'm not sorry. Nick wasn't the kind of man who could live very long. I had him for part of the time that he did, Mrs. Joiner. No, please. You understand, Mr. Clover, long ago Nick wanted me to move someplace. You know, Park Avenue, place like that. But Park Avenue? Well, it was like the strapless gown. Did you ever meet any of Nick's friends? Nick didn't have any friends. He had people he had fun with. Like who? So many of them. Women, of course. Lots of them. But he never felt ashamed before. Any of them. Wasn't there someone? Someone special? Ms. Lisbon was special. I saw her once. I saw her walking on Broadway with Nick. On Broadway? Mr. Clover, she only saw Nick. Ms. Lisbon. Colette Lisbon. Nick told Me about her. She stayed at the hotel. Hadn't I believed? Maybe she poisoned Nick. Maybe. I'm sorry for her. She doesn't know what she killed. The woman turned away from me, walked over to the hall mirror adjusted a wisp of colorless hair under her hat. Smoothed her gloves, looked once at her face, looked away, then walked out for one more time with Nick. She'd left the door open. I closed it for her. At headquarters, there was a file on Paulette Lisbon. Kansas City, Las Vegas, Chicago, Paris, the Italian Riviera. The girl who opened the door for me at the Hotel Hatton was the sum of all the places in which she'd been whispered, clothed in silk. The sum of all the hands that had stroked the shadows on her throat, the edges of her mouth. All there was in the room was Paulette Lisbon. Thank you. For what? For the way you look at me. I thank you, Ms. Lisbon. Nick looked at me like that. Sometimes other men makes a girl feel good. I mean, good. You like Nick. You brought me pretty flowers. These on my neck, on my arm. Those boxes on the dressing table. Sure, I like Nick. Then maybe you'll help us find his killer. You really want him. The killer, I mean. So many people are celebrating. Nick's dying all over town. I know because I've been invited. You're not going? No. No, I think Nick would like me to breathe a little. After that, I'm on my own. He told me so lots of times. He was poisoned. Maybe you can tell me why. I can give you a lot of whys, but don't ask me who. You'd tell me if you knew? Cross my heart and hope to die. Who needed him dead? You. The citizens, the people of the country. My Nicky was a stain that brings us to you. I needed him alive. Girl like me doesn't know where her next Nick is coming from. Would you open it for me, Danny, please? This robe. The guest might whisper. Ms. Lisbon, I. Oh, it's you. I know you. Come on in, Finch. You don't keep a promise. I even spelled my name for you. What'd you bring me this time, Finch? Oh, you'd be so pleased, Ms. Lisbon. I stole her from the kitchen. Uncle Pheasant. It's cold wine. Stole it for you. There's no charge. Well, there's some bills on my dresser, Finch. Help yourself. Oh, you know I don't do it for that, Ms. Elizabeth. He just helped himself to these goodies. Have some, Danny. It's on the house. It always is with Finch. No, thanks. They killed your Mr. Joiner. Didn't they, Ms. Lisbon? They had to be brave to kill a man like Mr. Joiner. You like it that way, you just call me to clean up the mess when you're through. Bye, Ms. Lisbon. There are so many, many kinds of a whole different. Sure you won't have some, Danny? Funeral feast? No. Then throw it away for me, will you, Danny? Please. Out the window was fun. Lots of fun. Danny. Oh, hello, Dr. Sinski. Come on in. What's on your mind? Got a cigarette, Danny? Here you are. Thanks. Light? No, I wouldn't think of it. I carry my own matches. A very strange thing just happened, Danny. Like what? I just finished an autopsy on Johnny Hill. Autopsy? What for? He was shot to death. What do you need a naropsy for? Because he wasn't shot to death. What are you talking about? Of course he was shot. Of course he was. Three. Three.45 caliber bullets. But that's not what killed him. Look, Please, Danny, let me have my minute of glory, huh? Thank you. I happened to see the photographs taken of Johnny by our boys. Why, I asked myself, is this so little blood from a man who's been shot by a large caliber bullet? Then at the morgue, I examined Johnny. Very little blood on his clothes. So he performed an autopsy just to prove my point. Johnny was dead before he was shot. What? Johnny was poisoned to death with the same poison that killed Nick Joyner. Know anybody who didn't like those two fellas? Danny. Here he is. Danny. Oh, sit down. Me? Him. You leave Morrow. Ah, Danny. I lend you my office. Be polite. Out. I. Okay, Okay. I said you can sit down. I'm not in the habit of sitting down. Room service. May I? Finch. Room service. Tell me about yourself, Finch. I told you. Room service. I mean, how you live, your friends, what you do outside of the hotel. You're interested? Yeah, I am. Well, thanks. Yeah. Then how do I live? Oh, I work eight hours, read a lot, go to the movies a lot. Write letters to newspapers they printed. Some of them. Spell your name right? Always. I have such a simple name to remember. Maybe that's why everybody forgets. What about your friends? Ah, tried that. People don't measure up. Does Ms. Lisbon measure up? She's beautiful. I'd like her to admire me, but really doesn't matter. Don't you care what people think about you? Finch Used to bother me. I used to try when I was younger. I took physical culture exercises and correspondence courses and Personality, but never finished. I don't know. Well, I don't know. Now you don't care. Ah, people are stupid. They don't know what goes on inside of other people. No. Why are you asking me these things, Ms. Clover? Because I admire you. Oh, thank you. Thank you. Oh, see? Let me show you something. I have it right here in my coat pocket. It's a letter I'm writing to the Times. Read it. Tell me about it. It's about those two men who were murdered in this hotel. Society ought to thank whoever did it. Give him a medal. Don't you think so, Ms. Clark? Think what? Give him a medal, whoever poisoned those two men. Yeah, that's one way of looking at it, finch. You know, Mr. Clover, you and I think alike. You can understand a man. I think we can be great friends. Uh huh. I think I would have hated Nick Joyner myself. Yeah, that's right. That's right. Tell me about it. Well, I would have poisoned a big man like Johnny Hill. And if someone would have come along and taken all the credit for it by emptying his gun into Johnny. Oh, what kind of courage is that? Killing a dead man? Maybe Nick didn't know Johnny was dead. He probably just thought Johnny was sleeping. Oh, that doesn't make any difference. Nick got all the glory for killing Johnny. And you couldn't stand that, could you? You wanted that glory. What's that? You killed them both, didn't you? Johnny and Nick. What's that? Poisoned Johnny because of how important it would make you feel inside yourself. You could walk the streets and look at the people and know they didn't know how important you are. I didn't say that, Ms. Clover. And Nick messed it up for you, so you had to kill Nick. No, no, no, no, no. That's not right, Ms. Glover. You said they were both poisoned. How'd you know? I just found out. Listen to me, I. You reported the first murder to me yesterday. You took great pains to give me details. But you didn't say he was shot because you didn't know he was. You've got to listen to me. No, you listen to me. Think about it, Finch. Allen Finch kills two big notorious gangsters. Look, Mr. Cleveland. Think about it, Finch. Your picture and all the papers. Your name and all the headlines. Alan Finch. Not just letters to the editor. Pictures, headlines, personal interviews about how I did it. Sure, of course. Maybe a picture of Ms. Lisbon and me, and she'll be crying. Let's go tell the papers about it. Finch. Finch. Alan Finch. F I N C H Finch. It's the happy time on Broadway. It's after the movies. Nobody wants to go home. It's a place strung against the night like a phosphorescent alley. They're heaped here. The golden girl, the bright eyed kid, the man with the promises, and the guy who believes him. It's Broadway. The gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway, My Beat. Broadway's My Beat stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover with Charles Calvert as Tartaglia. The program is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with musical score composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. Included in tonight's cast were Howard McNear, Marlo Dwyer, Gigi Pearson, Adrian Martin, Lou Merrill and Jack Crucian. We Americans have a valuable heritage, a heritage of individual freedom that includes the freedom to worship as we wish at the church or synagogue of our own choice. By attending church regularly, we can gain the moral and spiritual strength to meet the many problems which confront us today. Help support your church and attend regularly with your family. Dan Cubberly speaking. This is cbs, where yours truly, Johnny Dollar, brings adventure Saturday nights on the Columbia Broadcasting System. Welcome back. I do like this sort of story and this sort of solution, particularly when you're dealing with a powerful underworld figure and you know you have all of these dangerous enemies and it turns out the person who did it was just an ordinary person. It kind of speaks to the mortality of those who think they're so big and important and can step on everybody else. And of course, as always, great to hear Howard McNair on Broadway's My Beat. Well, now we turn to listener comments and feedback and we have a couple comments on YouTube regarding the John Webster murder case. Mildred writes, I think I heard John's other wife mentioned on an episode of Burns and Allen, which is a good illustration because most of their episodes are well past that series brief heyday. And Jeffrey rides. Adam, is it my imagination or does that Edna Harper sound like the Southern belle girlfriend of the great Gildersleeve, Lela Ransom? Well, I don't think you're crazy and it could be similar, but it is not the same actress. Unlike most other series where we don't have the cast list, we do know that the only two actresses in this were Peggy Weber and Jeannette Nolan, both of whom you know. I think Jeannette Nolan was known more for her old lady voices, but she had some vocal style, dexterity. Either one of those could do a Southern belle character quite well. And then we have a comment on our listener survey from Lynn, who writes Adam Graham. Wonderful knowledge. Highest quality podcast for old time radio thank you so much. Appreciate you taking the time to fill out our listener survey. Lynn. And now it's time to thank our Patreon supporter of the day. And I want to thank Listen Lewis, Patreon supporter Since May of 2025, currently supporting the podcast at the detective Sergeant level of $7.14 or more per month. Thanks so much for your support, Lois. And that will do it for today. If you're enjoying the podcast, please follow us using your favorite podcast software. And if you're enjoying the podcast on YouTube, be sure to like the video, subscribe to the channel, and mark the notification bell. We'll be back next Wednesday with another episode of Broadway's My Beat, but join us back here tomorrow for Dragnet. Where your name? Richard Morgan. Is that right, sir? Yeah, that's right. Police officers. Mr. Morgan, this is Sergeant Romero. How are you? How are you? My name's Friday. We're out of accident investigation. Like to talk to you about the accident that just happened here. Sure was a bad one. Hope you catch those kids. Didn't even slow down. Understand you witnessed the accident. Wonder if you'd be kind enough to tell us what you saw. I was just closing up my nursery here. Just unlocked my car and was about to get in when I saw this car come shooting up Los Feliz there. Fast clip. Where were the two women? They were just stepping off the curb under the crosswalk over there. I could tell they didn't see the car. Yelled, honked my horn. Guess I wasn't quick enough. It was just awful. Go on, Mr. Morgan. Oh, the way that car hit those women, looked to me like like he knocked him 50ft at least. Then just like nothing at all, the car raced right on through the intersection on Don Los Villas, that way. Did you get a look at the driver? No, sir, not too good. But I believe he had blond hair. Looked to me like he was alone in the car. Anything more about him? Looked like a young kid to me. I'll bet on that. He was young. Blonde kid, about 18, 19 on in there. I hope you'll be with us then. In the meantime, send your comments to box Thirteenreatetectives.net follow us on Twitter at radiodetectives and check us out on Instagram. Instagram. Com. Great. Detectives from Boise, Idaho, this is your host, Adam Graham, signing off.