Transcript
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Sam.
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Welcome to the Great detectives of Old Time Radio from Boise, Idaho. This is your host, Adam Graham. In a moment, we are going to bring you this week's episode of Danger with Granger. But first, today's program is brought to you in part by the financial support of our listeners. You can support the show on a one time basis by mailing a donation to Adam Graham, P.O. box or 15913. That's P.O. box 15913, Boise, Idaho, 83715. Thank you to Valerie and Carolyn for supporting the program. That way you can also become one of our ongoing Patreon supporters for as little as $2 per month by going to patreon.greatdetectives.net and I want to welcome our latest Patreon supporter, Gary. Gary supporting the podcast at the Showmas level of $4 or more month. And thank Pam, who has upgraded her support from the shamus level to the detective Sergeant level of $7.14 or more per month. Thanks so much for your support. Well, now it's time for this week's episode. Counterfeit Plat.
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Danger with Granger. Hiya, Nap. How do you do? Mitch, we want to talk to you in that. Of course. Come in. You got a nice spot here. Nice. I'm glad you like it. I see you're still doing a little engraving too. Oh, that? I was working on a design for a coupon. One to be included in a soap wrapper. Mitch, what have I done? Why you slapped me? Matt, where are they? Day. What is this bay you speak of? Come on, Nat, we haven't got all day. Where are the plates for the coupons? I've not started them yet. Here, you see, this is just a design I've made up. Okay, Nat, you can cut the fairy tales. How much? How much for what? We got a tip, Nat. You're back in business again. We'll pay money, good money for that set of plates. How much? I think you better leave. Of course, if money doesn't make you talk. Now, there are other ways. Like this this is Steve Granger, private detective with a story about a character who had ideas about going for a killing. The killing got there first. In just a moment, I'll take you back to one of my most interesting cases. This is Granger. I was seated in my office feeling calm, peaceful and full of goodwill. Why not? The rent had been paid for two months in advance. And nobody had been using my thoughts over a target lately. I had plans for a pleasant evening. The plans disappeared in the shrill of my phone. Hello? Ste. Granger? Yeah. Who's that? This is Matt, the printer. What's wrong, Nat? Come down here right away. 2410 East 13th in the basement. And bring a doctor. Matt, hold it. What happened? They came and took them. My plates. You've got to get them back. Take it easy, Ned. The doc should be here any minute. But you got to find those plates. What plates? I always wanted to make a pair of perfect ones. I finished them this afternoon. I made one print. Granger. I did it. Can't beat plates again, huh? You've got to get them back, Grange. I did it only for a hobby. That kind of hobby got you 10 years in the pen. Who cut you up like this, Nat? Who tortured you? It was Mitch. Mitch? What's his last name? I don't know. He's been coming around for some time. Found out that what I was doing. Was he alone? Another man. Old, look like big money. What was his name? I don't know. He just stood there and watched. It was enjoying himself. Wonder what happened to that Dr. Grange. Got anything in your medicine chest? Maybe I can ease your pain a little. Nothing. Granger. Jesse. Get. Get back. My plates. Knapp. The printer closed his eyes for the last time. I picked up his phone, called the police department and then, because the government boys would be interested in. That's planned, made a call to a friend of mine named Ed. He was there in five minutes. Hey, somebody really gave it to him, didn't they? Yeah. Before he died, Nap mentioned one name. Mitch. Mitch. That doesn't mean much. He say anything else? He mentioned there was another man in the party. An older guy. Looked like he had money. No names, right? You look around this place? No, I thought I'd wait for you. It'll be your baby if the man who stole those plates starts using him. Another day, another counterfeiter. Well, fellas, you find out anything about the crime? Who are you, bud? And how did you get here? Oh, I'm with the news. I heard there might be a yarn down here. Well, there isn't. It. Don't give me that. Aren't you a government man? I said there is no story down here. And the guy in the couch looks like he's suffering from murder. Look, bud, get out of here. We've got a lot to do. My paper won't let worried about your paper. Now will you beat it? Yeah, sure, if that's the way you feel. See it. Hey, aren't you Granger, the private eye? So what? There must be quite a deal. The cops, government men, even a private eye. Goodbye. I always welcome a chance to work with a government boy. So when Ed suggested I check with him later in the day, I agreed. Also, I wanted a chance to get next to this Mitch, the man who tortured Nat, the printer. I'd like old Nat, even if he was a counterpean artist. However, I'd heard a conversation that was taking place in another part of town. Just then I might not have been so eager. Well, how did you find out? I went back and pretended I was a newspaper man. Wasn't that dangerous? You have no credentials. Who cares about credentials? I found out something. Nat wasn't dead when we left. But I thought. Yeah, so did I. But he lived long enough to call that private detective Steve Granger. Seems that Nat knew Granger, who told him my first name before he died. We'll have to do something about Granger. Oh, no more killing. We kill Granger, we could get the trouble. He's got plenty of friends. Don't worry. I think I know just how to handle Mr. Granger. I'll continue with this interesting story. Story in a minute. I was sitting in my office checking with people in Manhattan who might know somebody named Mitch. So far had come up with 50 men by that name, none of them the right one. Then the man walked in. Strictly Wall street gray business suit, homburg and a million dollars worth of aplomb. Mr. Granger, you have been recommended to me. Thanks. Who did the recommending and why? I have a delicate matter on my hands. It concerns my daughter. She's young, headstrong, she's in Philadelphia. A nice combination. I want her brought back to New York. Tactfully, of course. Be more explicit, mister. My daughter is in love with a young man there. She refuses to come home. I want her brought back. Is she over 21? She's 22. I'm afraid she's mistress of her own future. There's nothing you can do. I thought that perhaps you could induce her, shall we say, to return. If I try to induce her, as you say, and she resented it. I could wind up in a Philadelphia pokey. I'm afraid I'll have to turn you down. Dear me, that's most unfortunate. Couldn't I urge you to change your mind? Not just this minute, no. However, I might reconsider. In case you should. Mr. Granger, my card. Goodbye. I waited the proper length of time, after which I set sail astern of the portly gent. I stayed 10ft behind him, keeping an eye on his Homburg hat, which stuck out above the rest of the crowd. Hey, Granger, you're just the guy I want to see. Not now, reporter. I got things to do. Beat it. Listen, I want the answer to a very important question. Will you let go of me? I'm trying to keep an eye on somebody. The few seconds in which I was delayed by the reporter enabled Mr. Homburg had to be swallowed up in the crowd. And when I turned round to do a little verbal pasting of the reporter, he disappeared too. I fished out the car the pompous character had left with me. It gave the name of Henry Glazer and the address when I found it turned out to be an automobile dealer's. But it also turned out that Henry Glaser at that address bore no resemblance whatsoever to the guy in the Hamburg hat. My deductive powers were really working that morning. It didn't take me more than 10 minutes to figure out that I'd been fooled. I left the place wondering why Mr. Homburg hadn't lied to me. Then I got that feeling up and down my spine and realized I was wearing more tail than a minx. I couldn't catch a glimpse of my follower. But I decided to make a small detour on my way back to the office. I'm calling on my friend Cal Hendricks. Well, well. How's the peripatetic private eye this fine mourn? Hey, that's a twenty five word. I'm only a twenty dollar detective. Peripatetic simply means walking from place to place. Yeah, well, walking is something I'm not too fond of right now. I've got company. Someone on your tail? Yeah. I mean, keeping one eye over my shoulder, one across the street and one when I could stir it in front of me. Something brewing, huh? Yeah, I got a call from Matt, the printer. I thought he'd gone out of business. He has as of today. Somebody wanted a set of plates he'd made and they weren't too squeamish about how they got them. Don't tell me I've Got a tender stomach? Just keep your ears flapping and see what you can pick up. Cal, my friend, you may have three eyes, but I don't have fingers on my ears. However, I shall attempt to ascertain whatever information is available. Well, if you get any, just be a good guy and translate it before you pass it on. I was feeling kind of dizzy from Mr. Hendricks verbal gymnastics. So I nearly walked straight into the lobby of my office building without looking. It was lucky I didn't, because the lobby was currently being inhabited by someone I didn't want to meet. One of the local gunboys. And it was a cinch I was his target for today. I beat it round to the back entrance, hoping there wasn't another one stashed there. There wasn't. I waited till the gun boy moved towards the street entrance. Then I made my break up the stairs into my office. I made straight from my phone and put in a call. Hello, Ed? This is Granger. Oh, hi. Gum Shoe. Say, how do you feel? Hotter than a bride's burned broccoli. What's with me anyway? Who hates me? Don't be concerned, Granger. You had a man or two tailing you, but we protected. You nab any of the men who were after me? No, but we will next time. Well, here we go again. Hey, somebody's coming down the hall, Ed. What, to your office? Yeah. Looks like a woman through the glass. Now, listen, I'll unlock the door and let her in. I'll put a paper over the telephone so she won't notice it's off the hook. That way you can get an earful in case she's got anything to do with the canopy plates. Right. One second.