← The Great Detectives of Old Time Radio| Daily Mystery Dramas
The Great Detectives of Old Time Radio| Daily Mystery Dramas
Danger with Grainger: The FBI and the Scientist (EP4806)
00:35:21
Today's Mystery: A woman hires Steve Grainger to protect her scientist husband who is working on a top secret experiment. Original Radio Broadcast Date: 1956 or 1957 Originating from Australia Starring: Harp McGuire as Steve Grainger Support the...
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- [00:00]
A
What do you think makes the perfect snack? Hmm, it's gotta be when I'm really craving it and it's convenient. Could you be more specific? When it's cravinient. Okay. Like a freshly baked cookie made with real butter, available right down the street at a.m. p.m. Or a savory breakfast sandwich I can grab in just a second at a.m. p.m. I'm seeing a pattern here. Well yeah, we're talking about what I crave, which is anything from AM pm What more could you want? Stop by AM PM where the snacks and drinks are perfectly craveable and convenient. That's cravenience AM P M. Too much Good stuff. This is the story of the One As a custodial supervisor at a high school, he knows that during cold and flu season germs spread fast. It's why he partners with Grainger to stay fully stocked on the products and supplies he needs, from tissues to disinfectants to floor scrubbers. All so that he can help students, staff and teachers stay healthy and focused. Call 1-800-GRAINGER Click grainger.com or just stop by Granger for the ones who get it done.
- [01:29]
B
Welcome to the Great Detectives of Old Time from Boise, Idaho. This is your host Adam Graham. In a moment we are going to get into today's first episode of Danger with Granger. But first I do want to encourage you. If you are enjoying podcasts, please follow us using your favorite podcast software and today's program is brought to you in part by the financial support of our listeners. You you can support the show on a one time basis over at support.greatdetectives.net and become one of our ongoing Patreon supporters for as little as $2 per month at patreon.greatdetectives.net today I am bringing you one of the most confusing series to figure out even its basic origin that I've ever dealt with. For many years I thought Danger with Granger originated in South Africa and so we couldn't play it, but that turned out to be incorrect and that just brought us the question was it Australian or was it American? I thought I found definitive proof that it was an American show, but then a bit of a twist and I'll talk a bit more about that if I try to go into all of that will be five minutes before getting into the first episode so I'll just briefly introduced the series Danger with Granger starred Harp Maguire as a private detective in New York named Steve Granger. Now McGuire was an American born actor who spent many Years in Australia. He played the police foil character Lieutenant Brooks in the Mr. Malone series which was adapted from American scripts. And if you grew up listening to Australia, old time radio. Randy Stone was not Frank Lovejoy. He was Hart Maguire. However, Maguire did return to the United States and spent the last part of his acting career working in many television programs and movies. Which is part of what led to my confusion. But we'll get to all that after today's broadcast. We don't have firm air dates, but these would have originally played in either 1956 or 1956. And here's today's episode. The FBI and the scientist.
- [04:19]
A
Danger with Granger. Is that you, darling? You're home early. Yes, I know. Grace, is dinner ready? I must eat quickly and get back to the laboratory. Robert Playfield. You've been at that laboratory every night for the past two weeks. Well, it can't be helped. I'm working on a very important project. What is this important project? I can't tell you. It's an extremely secret matter. May I go over to the laboratory with you? No, that's impossible. I'll be back around midnight. Robert. Now what is it?
- [04:51]
B
Now?
- [04:52]
A
I've told you all I'm going to this note. I found it crumpled up in the wastepaper basket in your room. Grace, have you been snooping through my things? Yes, I have. And I think I'm entitled to an explanation. Just why would anyone write you a letter threatening to kill you? This is Steve Granger, private detective with a story about a well known scientist, the FBI and a worried wife. A combination which had me going dizzy. In just a moment, I'll take you back to one of my most interesting cases, Mrs. Granger. It was late afternoon when a woman walked into my office and identified herself as Mrs. Robert Playfield. She was a very beautiful woman in her middle 30s. And she was also very worried. Mr. Granger, I'm. I'm here because of my husband, Robert Playfield. You may have heard of him. He's the electronics expert. Yes, yes. Seems to me I've read about him in the papers. A lot of development work for the government. That's right. Mr. Granger, I have reason to believe that someone intends to kill my husband. Friend of mine recommended you as a capable man. I. I thought you could handle this matter. If I did, the first thing I do would be to check the FBI. Mr. Granger, I don't care how you handle this. I simply want my husband protected at any cost. Do I make myself plain? You certainly do. Now, I'll be glad to help. Look, Mr. Granger, there's one thing to remember my husband is to know nothing about this. You understand? Nothing. As soon as Mrs. Playfield left, I picked up the phone and called a contact of mine at the FBI. This is Steve Granger. Say, is Pete around? Thanks. Now. Hiya, Pete. What do you got in Robert Playfield, the electronics expert? Uh huh. I see you keeping an eye on him. Of course, I've got a reason for asking. His wife was just in here. She hired me to see he didn't get hurt. Uh huh. Sure, sure. Yeah, I'll be around. I hung up, got on my coat and beat it over to take a look at Dr. Playfield's laboratory. His research spot was on the lower west side. Located on an inconspicuous side street. It was as gloomy as the morgue. Even at this hour of the day the street was deserted except for a derelict who moved up to me. Hey, mister. What do you want? Can you spare two bits for something to eat? Two bits? What are you doing in this neighborhood? Looks like pretty poor pickings for a handout. I just happened to be here. That's so. Yeah. Two bits. Thanks, mister. You're a real pal. I watched him shuffle off. He might have been a derelict, but I had a glimpse of sharp brown eyes peering at me from a decrepit old hat. I decided to check further on him. Hey, you. Wait. What you want? Come back here. What's the matter? Okay, pal, get this. I'm a licensed private eye. Turn out your pockets. Want to find out who you are? I ain't done nothing, missy. Turn out those pockets or I'll do it for you. Sure, sure, mister. Just a second. Haven't got a gun. At least. Mia. I wouldn't know what to do with a gun. Come on, get going with the pockets. Oh, here, Miss. Too. Half a loaf of bread. I got some sausage too. Got a wallet? Wallet? What would I do with a wallet? All I got is this dough. 60 cents. What's your name? Bill Walker. Where do you live, senator? Hotel in the Bari. Okay, let's go. Where? Never mind the questions. Let's go. I held on tight to the guy and called the FBI. Told him I'd found a character behaving suspiciously hanging around Playfield's laboratory. Then I waited till they showed up and took the derelict off for questioning. I went back to patrolling the street where Dr. Playfield had his laboratory to the point where my toes began to resemble frosted eclairs. Then I had an idea for A man to relieve me, a taxi cab driver pal of mine named Frankie Smith. I used him occasionally on stakeouts of this kind. I got the hackie down to the corner of 11th Avenue and 12th Street. Told him what I wanted, after which I went uptown to my office and draped my lower extremities over a radiator. Three hours went by. Then the door opened. Hey, what are you doing up here? Frankie, I told you to keep an eye on Dr. Playfield. Granger, you're looking at what I term an abject failure. What happened? Well, like you tell me to, I watch Playfield's laboratory. I park my hack on the corner and when things get chilly, I climb inside. Toast my Carmine. The buildup. What happened? Well, I'm sitting in the car like I said. All of a sudden this man Playfield walks out his front door. He beats it down the street towards me. Well, I'm lost. If I follow him, I have to leave my cab. Oh, you followed him in the cab? No, because when he gets to my corner, he motions me over. Now this looks good to me. So I accept this call. He tells me 55th street and 6th Avenue. Frankie, cut the verbosity. How did you lose Dr. Playfield? Simple. He climbs out of 55th and 6th Avenue. I run the cabin to a hex stand and take out after him. I stayed glued to him, the kind of Frankie. Yeah, yeah, go on. Only I become unstuck. He walks into a drugstore through the only door. I wait outside. He comes charging out like a cat with a turbanine tail and brushes me off my feet. So by the time I recover, he is but gone. Well, that's just great. As a watchdog you're about as useful as a four week old kitten. I didn't like the sound of it. If Frankie Smith hadn't been able to keep on Dr. Playfield's tail. There was something peculiar going on. Because Frankie was a good tailman, I decided to check. Dialed the doctor's number. He answered the phone himself. I muttered, wrong number and hung up. So he's home, huh? Well, you sure got yourself into a panic for nothing. Zip your lip, my fancy friend. Here. This is Playfield's address out on Long Island. Get out there and keep an eye on the place all evening. I'll relieve you at 10 o'. Clock. Care to set your watch with mine? Get out there, I said. Okay, Simon Legree, I'm going. Frankie left the office. I grabbed myself a quick bite of food at a corner beanery, went back towards 11th Avenue and 12th Street. In the half gloom of early dusk, the laboratory looked even worse than during the daytime. I stopped at one of the windows, but the black paint on it eliminated any chance of looking inside. Then suddenly there was a voice from behind me. What's your name? Who are you? What are you doing down here? Why, Federal Bureau of Investigation. Oh, pardon me. Here is my card. Steve Granger. License number 248-6. Okay, Granger. Do you know how it is? Forget it. What happened with that Bill Walker I had you fellas take downtown? I don't know. Pete was still interviewing him when I left. Anything stirring around here? Nothing except the wind. I wish that had died. Dan. This was 10 o' clock on the nose. Time to relieve Frankie on watch. I'd got a cab ride out to the Playfield place. A large house set back from the street, looming like a white ghost in the night. Frankie's cab was down the street. Had been snowing. There was a kind of hushed quiet about the place. I circumnavigated the entire house looking for him. Through one window I could see Mrs. Playfield, plus a beautiful young girl. Plus a man who must have been Dr. Playfield himself. But no sign of Frankie Smith. Okay, mister, that's far enough. Put up your hands for you. What's the idea of the gun? I'll ask the questions. What are you looking for? Maybe I forgot my lawnmower last summer. All right, funny man. March into the house, call the police and you can have a detective as a streeter. Just a minute, let me show you. Don't reach for anything. Only getting my identification here. Steve Granger, licensed private investigator. What's all this about? Why are you here? You know the Playfields? I'm Michael Grant, Dr. Playfield's assistant. I had a man watching this place. He seems to have disappeared. Came in that cab up the street. Have you seen him? I saw him standing by the cab some time ago. How'd you happen to come outside? We were playing cards off the Playfield. Went into the kitchen to make a drink. I forgot the card game and talked. I wanted a breath of fresh air. Thought I heard somebody. Wonder where Frankie could have gone to. It's light enough to look for tracks. They'll be clear in the snow. Want to make a try? Come on. Here are some that don't belong to us. Yeah? Yeah. They lead over that way. Look. The tracks go around the back of the house. Yeah, see? Did you hear that? Yeah, I hear. If it's what I think it is, then somebody's gonna have to pay for it and plenty. That groan sounding on the winter night gave me one chill feeling. If anything had happened to Frankie Smith, there was going to be a mighty big blowup. And I was feeling like just the boy to press the switch. In just a minute, I'll bring you the climax of the case. When we heard the groan coming from the back of the Playfield house, Michael Grant and I crunched fast through the snow. All the time I couldn't help a feeling of apprehension. And then we saw it. The figure behind the wood box. As we raced up, I recognized Frankie Smith trying hard to raise himself onto his feet. Frankie, are you all right? Oh, my head. Who hitchhik? You think I got eyes in the back of my head? Well, they came up from behind you, huh? Oh, yeah. Well, come on. I better get you to a doctor. Grant and I loaded fresh into his cab and I drove him to a doctor. While the medico was making his checkup, I called Cal Hendricks. Hi, Steve. How's the man murder business? Save the comedy for your newspaper pals, will ya? Listen, Cal, call the FBI for me, will you? Sure, Stevie. What's up? Just ask for Pete and ask him to run a quick check on a man named Michael Grant. He's a sort of assistant to Dr. Robert Playfield. Playfield, the electronics man? Yeah, yeah. Look, do you have to ask so many questions? How do you think I make a living? I know how you make a living, my friend. Out of my sweat and tears. I get myself beaten up regularly and you get the story. Well, one of us has got a coward out with something. Get onto the FBI, Cal, and tell them to call you back. I'll drop by and find out what they tell you. Okay, Stevie. Oh, one thing. Yeah? Don't be too careful in dark alleys, will you? Give the hoods an even break. Otherwise I don't eat this week. I hung up and went back to the doc who was patching up Frankie Smith. The cabbie was okay, so we got back into his taxi and he dropped me off at my place the following morning. I was in my office bright and early. I checked with Cal Hendricks, found the FBI had given Michael Grant a clean bill of health. Then I got my first surprise of the day. Dr. Robert Playfield walked in and started talking without preamble. You are Steve Granger, are you not? I am Dr. Playfield, Mr. Granger. My wife has told me about employing you. At first I was inclined to be angry at her interference. But when I remembered what happened last night, I agreed with Her. What happened last night? It was at our place in Long Island. First I noticed a taxi parked up the street. The driver was watching the house. Later, Michael Grant went outside. He was gone for some time. When he returned, he was quite evasive. Michael Grant? He's been my laboratory assistant lately. However, just recently, I've begun to distrust him. Why? Well, I can't tell you precisely. It's just a feeling. He's too curious about my work. He snoops around. He gets into things that are confidential. Frankly, my work is highly secret. If this invention were to fall into the wrong hands, it would be disastrous. Do you want me to accompany you to the laboratory? That won't be necessary. However, my wife is giving a costume party tonight. One she's planned for months. In spite of being extremely busy, I have agreed to be there. I want you there too. What time the party gets underway? At 8. I'll be there at 7. Hiya, Granger. What'd you phone me for? Go to a party, Frankie, my boy. Party? It's right down my alley to Dr. Playfield's house. Oh, I better wear an iron skull cap. You're going as a clown. Here's your costume. A clown? Hey, now don't get huffy. I'm going as one, too. And hurry up. We haven't got much time. Time? Hey, I don't get this business about both of us wearing the same costume. Hey, do I have to wear the mask that goes with it? You certainly do. Might be a time during the evening when I'd like to have somebody think you were me. Oh, I just know I'm going to get it in the head again. Mr. Granger, I'm. I'm so glad you could come. Evening, Mrs. Playfield. May I present Frankie Smith? How do you do? Hiya. He's acting as my assistant. Oh, well, come in, please. Darling, Mr. Granger is here. Oh, glad to have you. Granger. Granger. My suspicions regarding Grant are becoming stronger every minute. Please be very alert. This evening, Dr. Robert Playfield was a tied in a fake suit of armor that added a grotesque note to the conversation. The guests began arriving, 18 in all. Grant was there in costume also. A girl I'd seen at this house the night before. Her name was Linda Miller. Her job? Playfield's private secretary. A while later, Dr. Playfield motioned to me and I followed him. What's wrong, Dr. Playfield? Close the door, please. This morning I told you that I'd been working on a very hush hush device for the government. It happens to be an Improvement on the present guided missile. I have developed a new electronic follower the performance of which has amazed everybody. Go on. What I didn't tell you this morning is that I have been approached several times by other interests. How were these approaches made? Telephone calls, letters and so forth. Recently, these people, whoever they are, have become more than insistent. This is the latest threat. I just found it on my desk. You have one hour in which to make up your mind. You found this on the desk? You know how it got there? No. I'm afraid, Dr. Playfield, that this is out of my hands. I'm telephoning the FBI. I told Playfield to rejoin his guests and say nothing. Then I suited my action to my words. It took me almost a half hour to find Pete the federal man and make my report. I barely hung up when I heard it. I was out of that study and into the living room quicker than a dog after a bone. All right, who screamed here? Mr. Granger. And the alcohol? The guy in armor Dr. Playfield stabbed. He's. He doesn't seem to be any pots. Let me lift his visor. But that's Michael Grant. Yeah, but how did he get into your husband's costume? I don't know. Robert was wearing it when he was here a little while ago. I heard a lot of commotion in here. Granger. What's going on? Frankie, where have you been? What's the matter with you? I feel awful sleepy, Granger. Awful sleepy. You've been drinking. With whom? Nice girl, Lumber Miller. Awful nice girl. She gave you this drink? Yeah. You lie down. Is he drunk? Hardly. Somebody gave him a mickey. You mean poison? Knockout drops. Now, look, herd these guests into the other room. Nobody has to leave the house. I'll put Frankie on this couch. And Mrs. Playfield. Yes? Tell your husband I want to see him right away. Mrs. Playfield did as I asked. I hoisted the unconscious Frankie Smith onto a couch. This room, like most of the others, had a telephone. I called the local police first, the FBI second. I just hung up when I saw a figure outside the house holding up a tree. I slipped out the back door. All right, put up your hands. Now, listen here. Stand still. Well, if it isn't Bill Walker, recently at the Bowery. You've got me wrong. Oh, no, I haven't. You're wearing a better suit of clothes and a nicer overcoat. Those eyes I couldn't miss. You're wrong. No, I'm not. Just to play it safe, walk into that garage, I gotta tie you up for safekeeping until the Law shows up, you're not doing anything of the kind. I think not. I drag into the garage, found a length of clothesline and tied him up. Then I went back to the house looking for two missing people. Linda Miller, the doctor's secretary, and Robert Playfield himself. Granger. Well, Dr. Playfield, where have you been? I went downstairs for a few more bottles. Grace just told me about poor Michael. This is terrible. Whoever killed him must have thought he was me. How'd you happen to change costumes? Well, we were going to play a little joke on Grace and my wife. How about a drink? I could use one. So could I. But first, where's your secretary, Linda Miller? In the room with the other people. Know where she was when the knifing took place? In the cellar with me. I see. Let's go into my study. Right here. Do you have any suspicions about who did the killing? Not at the moment. Here, take this drink. I'll be right back. I want to see how Grace is feeling. I took a swig of the drink Playfield handed me as he left the room, but didn't swallow it. I got rid of it in a flower pot, wincing a bit as I tasted the drug in it. Then I decided to play along, see what went on. That's Mr. Granger. Is he one of them, too? Yes, he is. Linda. I found out that he and that Frankie Smith are after my invention. They're both spies. What are you gonna do with them? Turn them over to the police when they arrive. Now run along. Very well. And don't say a word to anyone. All right, I won't. I lay in a center recumbent position, pretending to be unconscious. Dr. Playfield waited a long second and pulled a revolver out of his pocket and moved towards me. He held the gun in a towel to deaden the sound. Dr. Playfield, I wanted to tell you that. What are you doing with that gun? He might come to and get violent. Now, now, please stay out of here. You were going to shoot him, weren't you? I'm going out until. Oh, no. You're keeping that pretty mouth shut. That guy. You're choking me. Hold up, Playfield. Greater. I thought you hugged. Sorry to disappoint you. Why, you. Older. Playfield. What? I'm Carlson, Federal Bureau of Investigation. You're under arrest for the murder of a federal agent. No. Well, friends, that's the story. I'll be back to wrap up the case in just a minute. The man on the was the same one who'd been guarding Robert Playfield's laboratory in downtown New York. His bullet took the doctor through the shoulder. After medical treatment, Playfield was taken to the city for booking. The FBI man, Carlson, filled in matters for me. We couldn't afford to have you know the truth, Granger. We've been suspicious of Playfield for a long time. We plan to grant him a lab to keep an eye on him. Grant had found out the Playfield was dealing with a subversive group. That's why Playfield killed him. What about those threatening letters? Ah, Playfield planted those himself. He was due for a big payoff tomorrow. Then he was gonna disappear. And his secretary, Linda Miller. Playfield? Fool. She's innocent. Even though she did feed Frankie Smith. Knock our drops. I guess I wasn't much of help. But you were, Granger. When Mrs. Playfield employed you as a guard, it brought matters to a head. At least that's a minor comfort. I imagine it was Playfield who slugged Frankie the night before. It must have been. Well, where ends that well? There's only one more thing. What? One of our undercover men was assigned to watch this house. He's disappeared. Say, would he be the guy I spotted in front of Playthel's lab? The guy whose name should be Bill Walker? Yeah. What? I discovered him on the prowl outside. I thought he was one of the spy ring. When he got tough, I slugged him, dragged him into the garage and tied him up. Walker. Oh, brother, is that funny? Look, I'll see you later. What's your hurry? I just don't want to be around when you untie him. Steve Granger again. You just heard one of the most interesting cases in my files. I'll have another one for you, so be around next time. This is the story of the 1. As head of maintenance at a concert hall, he knows the show must always go on. That's why he works behind the scenes, ensuring every light is working, the H Vac is humming, and his facility shines with Grainger's supplies and solutions for every challenge he faces. Plus 24. 7 customer support, his venue never misses a beat. Call quickranger. Com or just stop by Granger for the ones who get it done.
- [28:14]
B
Welcome back. A decent mystery, though the scientist final act wasn't really the sign of a brilliant mind with trying to drug our hero after also having drugged the sidekick. And I really also appreciated the pacing of this. It was very snappy, very quick, but feeling like a complete story despite that little bit of an audio skip. So overall, just a really fun first episode. If this was indeed the first. Again, this is still a confusing story. Now, I discovered this. This series was broadcast over Mutual, and Mutual stations found Adsport in 1956, and I thought that settled it. This was American production. It was something that Hartmecuire made when he returned to the States. But I actually have to credit a man and have no clue if he listens to this podcast. But if you know Trip Wiggins, you can tell him that his research was really helpful in helping me understand this series because he was researching another series called Peril and found some information very relevant. Peril, just like this series, was produced by Harry S. Goodman. Now longtime listeners may recognize the name of the man who syndicated left George do it to a Canadian audience as well as to upstate New York. Taking the Standard Oil commercials out of old episodes so they could be replayed anywhere, Goodman decided to produce detective and mystery dramas in Australia for syndication in the United States as opposed to Australia. He started doing this in 1954, or at least he was talking about it to a magazine. And this really would address a problem. As radio dramas became less profitable, many aspects of their production remained just as expensive, thanks to the contract with the union aftra. When the deal was struck for paying radioactors, it was a boon to radioactors who could often make serious money. You know, taken half an hour to an hour, appearing on multiple shows in the same day, and they got paid really well. And certainly with the advertising money, the network could afford to do that and still be quite profitable. But the economics of radio had changed, which made radio drama too expensive, particularly when you could easily fill time with news and recorded music. And so Goodman's idea was to produce all of these audio dramas in Australia, away from the AFTRA and outside that, and then sell them to stations in the United States. And for these productions, Goodman used a much higher percentage of US born expats than you typically heard in your average Australian radio drama, even if it was supposed to be set in the United States, so that it would sound a little less foreign to American ears. Goodman had claimed to have over a thousand episodes that he would be able to sell, and he sold 260, comprising five episodes, to Mutual and delivered 153 and received partial payment. And then the union raised a stink with Mutual. Mutual decided not to take delivery of the rest of the order, and Goodman ended up suing them in court. Goodman's radio dramas did continue in syndication at some stations across the country. The latest that Wiggins could find was in 1960 at a station in South Carolina. Now, Danger with Granger was one of those five series that was recorded and option to Mutual. So this would have been completed while McGuire was still in Australia and not necessarily in 1956 when it aired. It could have been completed in 1954 or 55. Now, the information that Mr. Wiggins found regarding the series Danger With Granger does require me to revise some of my thoughts on some other series, because they also identified It's a crime, Mr. Collins and the Crime Files of Lamont. Now, in old time radio circles, it had been talked about that there was an American version of It's a crime, Mr. Collins and I kind of question that at this point, knowing that the version of It's a crime, Mr. Collins that was aired over Mutual would have actually originated in Australia. I'm not entirely sure that they would have had two separate productions with two different groups of actors to bring the same set of scripts to life for both the United States and Australia. I mean, we do technically speak the same language, although some people might challenge me on that assertion. So I really am not certain there was ever a separate Australian version different from the one that aired in the States or different from the one we played back during season 11. And also, this does explain why there was something a bit odd about the last few episodes of the Crompt Files of Le Mans, and those that were dated 1956 were likely made in Australia, although the original episodes of the series from the 1940s were of course, still made in Chicago. So some very interesting discoveries. And I've got a good idea, I think, of where Danger with Granger fits. And no specific air dates for episodes, but we're kind of just going off the best order of episodes we can find. All right, well, now it's time to thank our Patreon supporter of the day. And I want to thank Shawna, patreon Supporter since June 2019, currently supporting the podcast at the Detective Sergeant level of $7.14 or more per month. Thanks so much for your support, Shana. That'll do it for today. If you're enjoying the podcast, please follow us using your favorite podcast software and be sure to rate and review the podcast using your favorite podcast software. We'll be back next Monday with another episode of Danger with Granger, but join us back here tomorrow for Charlie Chanware.
- [35:30]
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So sorry to have alarms. I am Inspector Chan of Honolulu Police, and this is my number one son, Lee Chan. Hi there, people. But what are you doing here? I We didn't even hear you come aboard. Fog at the blanket's ears as well as eyes, so that even great hulk of man like Sylph seems to walk on pussycat feet. Was rowed here from police boat in totally inadequate dinghy by number one son. You should have seen Pop on the way over. He was just as comfortable as he would have been in the merry go round with sandpaper seats. This is no time for levity, my son. You are Ms. Bromfield, please. Yes. Yes I am. But how did you. A member of Crusoe informed me when he directed me here. And you, sir? This is Barton Henry, Inspector. He. He's my fiance. Your fiance? Very. Then you have not yet informed Barton of my decision.
- [36:28]
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I hope you'll be with us then. In the meantime, send your comments to box Thirteenreatetectives.net Follow us on Twitter at radiodetectives. Check us out on Instagram. Instagram.com greatdetectives from Boise, Idaho, this is your host Adam Graham, signing off.
- [36:51]
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- [38:38]
B
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- [38:42]
A
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