Broadway Is My Beat

Broadway Is My Beat : 3 Gripping Radio Dramas Murder

Freitag, 16. Oktober 2026 · 1 h 52

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Broadway Is My Beat brings you classic old-time radio crime drama filled with gripping detective cases, dangerous criminals, and suspenseful mysteries set in the heart of New York City. Join the detectives as they investigate shocking crimes and uncover hidden truths. Enjoy these timeless episodes from the golden age of radio. Thank you for listening!

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The body of a man was found by members of the Seattle Police Force this evening. Officers say it is one of the bloodiest scenes they've ever seen.

Please, no.

The detective was quoted as saying he'd never seen so much blood. The unidentified victim had been bludgeoned to death with the back of an axe head, then dismembered.

No!

Melinda, wake up, honey.

I didn't.

Wake up.

I didn't.

No, I.

Melinda, Melinda.

Shh.

Oh, Kathy.

Shh.

You're okay.

It's all right.

Hey, if you're going to wake up screaming from a dream, that's the last... A dream?

It was just.

Kathy, have I been here all night?

Of course you have, ever since we got back from dinner.

But it was so real.

Oh, Kathy, I'm so glad you're here.

The Adventures of Harry Nile. Success can be measured in many different ways. Usually it's a dream achieved by hard work and focused attention. However, it can come with a high price tag. Some people find it too difficult to pay, and some find ways to make others pay.

Before I even tell you why I've come to see you, Mr.

Nile, I have to ask.

As a private investigator, how private are you really? I don't mean to be insulting. It's imperative this matter be kept totally quiet. until such time when it is no longer feasible. So, I ask you again, exactly how private are you?

As much as the law will allow, Miss McGee. I can't give you any other answer than that.

I suppose that's fair enough.

It'll have to be. Now, would you like to tell me why you think you need me?

I've recently been promoted to the position of assistant to the president. That would be David Willis, Jr.

of Willis Industries.

Congratulations. Thank you.

The promotion is all the more significant in that I am the first woman to hold it in the company's 75-year history. Because of this, I can't stress enough how important it is that I not be involved in any scandal whatsoever.

Exactly what kind of scandal are we talking about, Miss McGee?

I believe....

I believe I've murdered someone.

Back to the adventures of Harry Nile in one minute. Now.

Back to Harry Nile.

I'm sorry.

I usually don't... I'm not much for crying. You don't get far in business if you break down in the least little thing.

I wouldn't call murder a little thing. Look, when I said I was as private as the law would let me, well, murder is something I can't keep private. You've got to have to turn yourself in. I can't. It's not a matter of can or can't. You have to.

But I can't.

Okay, I'll bite. Why not?

I don't know whom I've killed.

You got my attention.

The night I received my promotion, Kathy and I were out.

Who's she?

My roommate. We share an apartment on Queen Anne. We've always roomed together, even in school. She's my closest and dearest friend. We also work together, so we went to dinner to celebrate.

Do any drinking?

One glass of wine each with our dinners. When we finished, we went home and I went to bed. I wanted to get a good night's sleep because I would start the new job the next day.

And Kathy?

She went to her room to record a letter to her mother.

To do what?

Her mother's blind. She tape records her correspondence. Like I said, I went to bed and I fell asleep almost immediately. But shortly after that, it happened.

It?

I was sitting in the living room, I think. Yes, I was sitting in the living room listening to the newscaster Robert Griffin I always listened to him. He was describing an awful murder scene. And suddenly, I was there at the scene. The axe was in my hand. I was covered with blood. And that poor man, he was.

All right, now wait a minute. Wait a minute.

Wait a minute.

Wait a minute.

Come on. You went to sleep in your bedroom. Then you were in your living room. And then you were at a murder scene. How?

When I saw the blood, I started to scream.

And that's when Kathy woke me.

This was a dream.

No, Mr.

Nile.

It wasn't... Well, it was, but I know it wasn't.

It was so real, so.

Have you ever had a dream that left you waiting for the police to knock on your door? Left you with guilt so heavy you could barely move? Have you ever had the same dream night after night after night?

I'm afraid to go to sleep. I'm afraid to wake up.

The guilt is unbearable.

I know I killed that poor man. As sure as I know, I'm sitting here talking to you.

Well, if you're so convinced, why don't you go to the police?

I told you I.

Don't know who he was or when I killed him.

Wow.

That's quite a story. Do you think she really killed someone?

My gut says no. Who in their right mind would think they've committed murder?

Maybe she's not in her right mind.

No, no. She's as sane as us. I think. Look, you've read up on all this psycho mumbo jumbo. What do you think?

Well, maybe subconsciously she's trying to sabotage her own success.

Oh, that's just plain stupid.

It's a very valid theory.

Not the theory, but as a reason to commit murder. She's not a stupid woman.

There are plenty of variations on this theory. That she did do it, but blocked it out until now, when the guilt over getting promoted has made her remember what she did.

Now I'm sorry I asked.

Fine.

I can get the books for you, and you can read them yourself. There are plenty of records corroborating people who have.

That's it.

Pardon me?

The newscaster in her dream, Robert Griffin. He hasn't been in Seattle long, has he?

One year, I think.

Then the murder must have been committed within the last year.

Well, how do you know she didn't hear him in the last town he worked in or while she was on vacation?

Do you remember the newscasters you listened to when you were on vacation?

Well, I.

Never mind, never mind, you probably do. Look, let's just concentrate on the past year. Tomorrow morning before you come in, stop by the library or the newspaper morgue and.

And check over Axe murders in the last year.

Unsolved murders. Better yet, unsolved bludgeoning murders. Newscast mentioned an axe, but say the victim was bludgeoned to death.

Are you going to check the police files?

No.

No, I'm not going to go to them for the same reason she didn't. Until I've got a dead body on my hands, I'm not mentioning dreams. Murphy, will you answer that? Murphy? She must be at the library. Marion Island Investigation.

Who?

Yeah, yeah, look, is she okay? Oh, what's that address again? All right, I'll be there in 10 minutes.

Morning.

Who's calling so early?

That was Kathy Keene, Miss McGee's roommate. Seems Melinda had another dream last night, but this one was different. This time she saw who she killed.

Harry, wait.

Not now.

But the unsolved murders over the past year, I've got.

You found something?

Well, there's only one unsolved case. David Willis Sr., one year ago as of yesterday. And he was beaten to death.

With the back of an axe?

A blunt instrument. They never found the weapon or the murderer.

Are you Harry Nile?

You must be Miss Keene.

Yes.

Melinda's in the kitchen. I'm glad you're here. I've got to get to work.

Kathy, is that Mr.

Nile?

Sure thing.

Look, go easy on her, Mr.

Nile.

She's had an awful night. I probably shouldn't say this, but I think this is all because of the job. She's got a lot of stress, and she always has bad dreams when she drives herself too much.

Kathy!

See you later.

She'll be okay, really.

Good morning.

I'm afraid I'm not very presentable.

Can I get you some coffee?

No, I'll get it.

The cups are in the side cupboard.

Your roommate seems very concerned about you.

I don't know what I'd do without her. She watched over me all night last night.

Did you manage to get any sleep at all?

Not really.

Did Kathy tell you I saw his face?

Yeah, when she called.

Yeah, it was.

Let me guess. David Willis, Sr.

How did you know?

I didn't tell her that.

It's the only unsolved murder in Seattle in the last year. Oh my gosh, I really did do it. But I don't remember. Yet I must have.

How could I feel this certain if I hadn't? But I don't remember it. I just want this awful guilt to stop. Will you come with me to the police?

No.

Why not?

Well, there are a few things I'm not clear on. For instance, how did you kill him?

I told you.

No, you told me what you heard in the dream But how did you kill him? Describe it to me.

I beat him with the axe.

You beat him with the back of an axe head. Why didn't you hit him with the blade? You remember having the axe in your hand. Why hit him with the back of it? I don't know. What kind of axe was it?

What difference does it make?

I don't know yet. Was it one of those short ones like a tommy hawker? Was it one used for chopping wood? Or maybe one like a fireman used?

I don't know what kind it was.

It was an axe.

Where did you get it from?

It must have been the one at the end of the office hall in the fire alarm box.

Willis was killed at home.

Maybe he had an ax there.

Did you even know him?

Of course I did.

I knew him very well.

I've worked for the company for eight years.

It's a big company. Not everyone knows the president. well.

How is it you do?

We hold an annual talent show among the employees. That's how I got to know him. When his assistant needed a secretary, Mr. Willis promoted me.

Did you ever make a pass at him? Mr.

Nile!

The police will ask the same questions.

Of course they will. Women don't succeed otherwise.

So, Willis Sr. never made a pass at you, but he did promote you. Well, there's not very much to go on motivation-wise.

Pardon me?

You didn't have a reason to kill him.

Not at all.

It's possible. No, probably not.

What?

What?

Tell me.

Well, maybe you saw the murder happen.

Well, I know I would have called the police if I had seen such an awful thing.

Maybe not. Maybe it was so awful that you... and Murphy said it was, oh yeah, blocked it out of your memory.

Is that possible?

I don't know. But it seems to me that being the first female assistant to the president of a company would be pretty stressful. Maybe it's a kind of shell shock.

Like soldiers from the war?

Yeah.

But if I saw it, and if I'm starting to remember it, I have to go to the police.

That's an awful lot of ifs to pace a visit to the police on.

Then what do you suggest I do?

Tell me about the new drink. Must I? Well, is anything the same? Do you start out in the living room listening to the broadcast and then find yourself with the scene?

Yes and no. I hear Robert Griffin's voice again, but it's far away.

I'm not really anywhere. I just hear the voice and it pulls me in. He talks about the murder, how the man.

He doesn't mention a name?

No, never a name, just the victim. That's what he says, the victim.

He describes the scene, how much blood, how the man was beaten and dismembered.

How much do you weigh, Miss McGee? What? Um, 107. Why? And about how tall are you?

Five feet, one and a half inches. Would you also like to know my shoe size?

Only if I think it's important to the case. You're what's called... Petite.

Yes, I know.

How big was Willis Sr.

He had a very commending presence. At least 6'3.

Very robust.

And you're petite. Okay. So all you hear in the dream is the newscast, right?

Yes, like in the first dream. The same scene described over and over, but last night it was like I was following him.

I don't understand.

It was like he was telling.

Me step by step what was happening and what I was doing, and I was following along.

Until I saw Mr. Willis' face. Hello?

Yes.

Yes, tell them I'll be there shortly. That was work. People are waiting for me at the office. What should I do? Go there or.

To the police? There you are.

How is Miss McGee?

She's pretty shook up. She thinks the man she killed is David Willis Sr.

Her old boss?

How did you know?

While I was at the newspaper morgue, I looked up the business pages from a couple of weeks ago and I read all about her promotion. Here, here's a copy of it.

Wow, big headlines.

Mr.

Nile?

Oh, yeah, hello.

Miss Keene, this is my associate, Murphy.

Hello.

I'm sorry to drop in on you this way. Melinda thinks I'm running errands for my boss. But I have something I think you should hear.

This is an expensive recorder.

Oh, not for me. My dad works for the company. Employee discounts and all that. Melinda told you my mother's blind?

Yeah, and that she sent tapes back and forth instead of letters.

Yes.

Yes.

Last week, I sent a tape, and I got it back in the morning mail with a note from my dad. I listened to the tape right away on my lunch hour and thought I'd better bring it straight to you. Here's Dad's note. What you need to hear is halfway through the tape. It's real soft-like, so I have to play with the volume.

Sweetie, Mom's wondering if you're trying to play a joke on her. She wouldn't tell me what was on the tape, but said to ask you if you're trying to scare her? Dad.

Uh, just about here.

That's pretty much it, Mom. I'll try and call this Sunday. Love from me and Mel. And now listen to this part.

Detective was quoted as saying he'd never seen so much blood. The unidentified victim had been bludgeoned to death with the back of an axe head, then dismembered. The axe was found at the scene.

But no.

Oh my gosh.

That sounds like Melinda's dream.

I know, exactly like it. And it repeats over and over until the end of the tape. I've got another tape at home and... You know what? I'll bet it's got her new dream on it.

Any idea how that broadcast got on here?

I check every tape that goes out to my mom. But this one I didn't check. I started to, but I fell asleep when I started replaying it. Usually when I do that, Melinda pounds on the wall and tells me to turn the recorder off.

She can hear you record?

Oh, not record. Just playback. Her bedroom is next to mine. For some dumb reason, the tapes sound louder in her room than they do in mine.

So she ends up listening to your letters.

Until, like I said, she pounds on the wall and wakes me up so I can turn the recorder off.

Or until the dreams reflect what you're recording.

Wow.

I never thought of that. She did wake up screaming the night I recorded this. And I never did listen to all of it. I just rewound it and sent it to Mom.

Anyone else know how your tape recorder is set between the bedrooms?

Melinda's, well, she wants to go far in the company. And she believes hosting parties and social get-togethers and stuff at the apartment will help. Now that she's gotten a promotion, she wants to get a really nice apartment. Anyway, people from the office come over frequently. You don't think someone from work did this?

About how long is that newscast?

Two minutes at the most.

About as long as a suggestion whispered in your ear.

A suggestionary?

Yeah, like the hypnotists in those nightclubs.

The ones that make people cackle like chickens when someone snaps his fingers?

Oh, my!

That happened to Melinda once. And she wasn't even on stage. She was in the audience.

Has anyone that you know of used the recorder lately? Everyone.

I've been taking it to the office so people could practice for the talent show.

Wait a minute.

You mean someone recorded this at work? You mean it could just be part of their act?

Oh my gosh!

That's wonderful!

Oh my!

Oh, that's just.

Oh, I could kiss you!

Melinda will be so relieved.

I have to get back to the office and tell her.

Well, this may not be the case.

Oh, of course it is.

Oh, it's so clear. If I hadn't fallen asleep, none of this would have happened. You are wonderful.

Do you mind if I keep this tape?

You bet.

I surely don't want it in the apartment. Matter of fact, I think you should destroy it.

I don't know about that.

Well, you're not really going to listen to it, are you?

I just want it for my files.

Oh, okay.

Well, I just asked because it still has my letter to my mom on it.

Oh, that's okay.

It's just girl stuff.

Harry and I will be right back.

How many times are you going to listen to that awful tape?

Until I figure out what's wrong here.

There's nothing wrong. It's all a horrible mistake.

Really?

Oh, you're turning into a cynic.

Really?

Stop saying that. And don't tell me you think someone recorded that message on purpose.

You think it was an innocent mistake?

Of course it was.

To think someone would do that deliberately. Oh, Harry, that's just awful.

Yeah. I don't know that I really believe it could happen.

Why don't you take a nap while the tape is playing and see what kind of dreams you have?

I was thinking of trying that. Maybe I will.

Well, just make sure you have that recorder back to the rental company first thing in the morning, or you're going to have to pay a higher fee.

Good night, Murphy.

Mr.

Nile!

Oh, please, come in. How wonderful to see you. I was going to stop by your office tomorrow with a check. Kathy and I are having a little celebration. Kathy, put out an extra plate.

Mr.

Nile is here.

Would you like coffee with your cake?

No, not going out to dinner to celebrate, huh?

Not this time. We're staying home in our cozy little apartment.

Home sweet home.

You bet.

I'll get my checkbook, Mr.

Nile.

This is one bill.

I'll be very happy to pay. You didn't say if you wanted cake and coffee.

Ah, to tell you the truth, I just stopped by to return this.

Oh, that.

I really don't want it.

You should probably destroy it. It's got some interesting things on it. Murphy didn't want me to pay a higher rental fee on the tape recorder. So she suggested I listen to the tape while I nap. See if it had the same effect on me as it did Melinda.

Did it?

Oh yeah, it did. You know, you really should have erased the angry complaint to your mother about Melinda becoming too big for her britches and wanting to move into a bigger, more expensive place now that she's making executive wages.

I have every right to be angry about that.

I can't afford to move. She thinks she doesn't need me around, but she does.

How did you learn to do this?

I got stuck at the dentist's office one day. The only magazines he had were these scientific ones. I saw this article about people trying to stop smoking and.

Why didn't you just suggest she not move? Better yet, why not just talk to her?

Oh, there's no talking to her. She just lets her ambition get in the way of everything. Even our friend I wasn't going.

To let that happen.

Who recorded the message for you?

Guy from the mail room. I told him I was writing a radio mystery for the talent show. He was willing to audition.

You know, I always thought hypnotists were cruel with their silly jokes, but they can't hold a candle to you. To deliberately terrify your best friend.

Are you going to tell her?

I think you should do that. She might even surprise you.

Tell me what?

Kathy?

Why did she do it?

She didn't want to be left alone. I guess she figured if Melinda felt she needed her, she wouldn't leave.

But why use David Willis Sr.

's murder? The personal connections. And there had been plenty of publicity. Looks like the poor old guy's murder's going to go unsolved for a bit longer.

He wasn't really dismembered, was he?

That was a little too much embellishment on the part of the dream writer. You know, I can't see Melinda McGee lifting the kind of axe it would take to just... I get the picture.

But what really tipped you off that it wasn't an innocent mistake?

Kathy wasn't having nightmares. I had a whopper of a bad dream when I fell asleep listening to that tape. And if it happened to me, the only way Kathy wouldn't have had a nightmare was if she hadn't been asleep. And if she hadn't been asleep and heard the tape, then why didn't she stop it unless she was playing it deliberately?

Oh, that's terrible. But you know something? This reminds me of an article I read a couple of weeks ago. It was about spies and brainwashing and subliminal messages delivered to people in such a way They didn't know it was happening at all.

Sounds like you two have the same dentist.

What?

Never mind.

But I was thinking, though. Could you imagine if a government tried to do something like that? Oh, but they wouldn't do that. That would be silly. Wouldn't it?

The Adventures of Harry Nile feature Larry Albert as Harry and Pat French as Murphy. Tonight's episode, The Nightmares of Melinda McGee, was written by Sable Jack, and directed by Pat French. Also in our cast were Rachel Pate, Rachel Glass, and yours truly, Jay Green. Theme music written and conducted by David Shire. The Adventures of Harry Nile is a copyrighted feature of Jim French Productions.

I don't mind saying, gentlemen, that in the more than 20 years I've devoted to this firm, through good times and bad, I've tried to follow the example of my father, Avery Pelton I.

Hard work.

Honesty. Excuse me.

Avery, what's wrong?

Avery, somebody call an ambulance.

The Adventures of Harry Nile.

Harry Nile Investigations. May I ask who's calling?

Just a moment, Mr.

Castle. I'll see if he can take your call. Harry, I know you're trying to eat your lunch, but it's a man named Castle from Pelton Global Investments.

Pelton Global? Didn't their president have a stroke or something?

That's right.

Put the story in the clipping file.

Do you need it?

I don't know yet.

Darn.

I got mayonnaise on my telephone. How did you manage that?

Wait, I'll bring you Kleenex.

Not right now. I've got to take this call.

Well, wipe off the mouthpiece.

Murphy, no one can hear mayonnaise. This is Harry Nile. How can I help you?

This is Thomas Castle, Pelton Global Investments.

Yes, sir.

Good afternoon.

I'm sure you're aware that our chairman has had a stroke.

And is out of action. Yeah, I did read something about that.

Well, the company.

Is now under my direction until further notice. But something disturbing has come up. I don't want to be more specific until we meet. That is, if you're available to take on a surveillance case.

Ah, surveillance. Well, as it happens, I am available. You want me to come to your office?

No, no.

Not private enough.

Well, it's my place. Occidental and Main in Pioneer Square. It's nothing fancy, but it is private.

I have a country place out near Cedar City. I prefer that we meet there, and it will have to be at night after business hours.

Well, I guess that won't be a problem. When's a good time for you?

Say 8 o'clock tonight, and I'll send driving directions over to you by messenger within the hour.

I'd never heard of Pelton Global Investments, but Murphy checks their rating and finds they're a solid business, so I'm not worried about getting my fee. That night, after a long, rainy drive into the dark winter countryside east of Seattle, Murphy and I pull up to a fairly large house hidden in a clump of trees. A 59 DeSoto is parked in front. The porch light goes on, and a man opens the front door and walks out on the veranda.

Mr.

Nile, I presume?

Right, and this is Murphy, my associate.

How do you do? Tom Castle.

Nice to meet you.

Come on in. I've got a fire going.

The living room reminds me of a mountain lodge. Post and beam construction, heavy furniture, Indian rugs, and a big rock fireplace sending up the sweet smell of alder smoke.

Let's sit over by the fire. If you want coffee, there's a fresh pot.

Yeah, maybe later, thanks.

Well... I appreciate your driving out here, Mr. Nile. And after working hours at that.

People in my field can't keep regular hours.

I had expected that you'd be coming alone.

I don't take shorthand, but Murphy does. And she's brought along our standard contract for you to sign.

Fine. Just put it here on the coffee table. Now, you're wondering why we're meeting way out here in the sticks, so to speak, and after business hours. Well, what we're dealing with here is espionage.

Somebody stealing company secrets.

That's correct.

We spend hundreds of thousands of dollars annually on overseas research. So we have exclusive business information before anyone else can get it. This has given Pelton Global's clients a great advantage. For example, we knew five years ago, back in 1954, that Volkswagen would take America by storm. So we advised our clients that VW dealerships would become gold mines.

I guess they did.

We knew about the success of a certain brand of Japanese beer two years before it was available here. And our clients got rich by investing in the company that imports it. Same with a Russian vodka distillery. With our help, they've become number one in vodka sales worldwide. And more of our investors are making a killing off that.

You helped a Russian company?

Calm down, dear. They make booze, not bombs.

So you want me to find out who's the spy?

But how do you know it's one of your employees?

I didn't spend three years in the OSS for nothing, Curly.

The name's Murphy.

Did all this begin after Mr. Pelton had his stroke?

No.

I became aware of it about six months ago. But I can't conduct an investigation without tipping off whoever is selling our secrets. That's why I have to use someone with no connection to the company whatsoever.

Sure.

Understood.

This has to be a covert operation. Now, here are the facts I want you to become familiar with. Several months ago, Pelton's son came into the business as a salaried employee. But he wasn't satisfied with the money. So I suspect he began leaking confidential information and selling it to the highest bidder.

Gurley.

Ooh, no one has ever called me Gurley.

Yeah, he's a piece of work, isn't he? Treats this deal like a military operation with him as the commanding general. It felt like saluting.

I took down every word and I'll get it typed up tomorrow. Are you going to handle this job all by yourself or are you going to bring in someone to work with you?

All right, now I don't know. We may have to give him a new contract if I bring someone.

Contract?

Oh, Harry.

Did you pick up the contract?

I don't have it. You put it in your briefcase.

No, no, I didn't.

I thought you took it.

I don't have it. All I got is this check for the retainer.

Great.

We're going to have to turn around and go back.

Go back?

We must have gone ten miles already.

Then we'll have to go back ten miles. When we get back to Castle's place, I'm relieved to see his car still parked in front, so he's still there. Murphy stays in my car while I dash up onto the porch to punch the doorbell. But I don't hear it ring, and the house is dark. It must be somewhere in the back.

Mr.

Castle, it's Harry Nile. Oh, I'm a son of a gun. There has to be a light switch somewhere near the front door. Where the heck is it? Ah, here we go.

Oh, rats.

Must be the range to knock the power out.

Mr.

Castle? That's funny. I wouldn't think he'd forget to lock up.

Mr.

Castle, are you in the house? It's Harry Nile. Must be the back door. So he was here. What's that smell?

Gasoline?

Cleaning fluid? What the heck was he doing using that stuff in our house while there's a fire in the fireplace? Those fumes could ignite. Is that his car? Sure enough, he's gone. Did he say anything to you before he took off?

I don't think he even looked in my direction.

See, in such a hurry. Or did he give you the contract?

I never saw him. He took off through the back door when I started calling him.

Do I smell gasoline?

Yeah, the house reeks of it. Power's off, so I couldn't really see where I was walking. I don't know what we've stumbled across. Castle hires me, then he dives out of the house and takes off like he doesn't want.

Me to see him.

I wish I'd thought to turn the headlights on when I saw him, but.

It all happened so fast.

Oh, no.

Harry, Harry, look behind you.

Look.

Look at the house. Are those flames I see through the windows?

Yes.

Harry, the house is on fire!

Now, back to Harry Nile. It takes me a good 15 minutes to find a phone and call the fire department. But by the time they show up, Castle's house is on its way to complete destruction. And where a big house stood two hours ago, now it's just a rock chimney standing in the middle of a pile of steaming, blackened timbers. At my office the next morning, I get a visit from a sheriff's deputy who wants to find out what I was doing at the fire scene. I tell him I was on a confidential business call, but that doesn't satisfy him.

Okay. You left, and then you came back. Then what did you do?

I went inside the house, but my client didn't seem to be there.

Didn't seem to be there?

I didn't see. But I heard somebody leave by the back door while I was still in the living room.

Then who let you into the living room?

No one.

Doorbell was broken, so I yelled and knocked, but there was no answer. And then I found out the door wasn't locked.

So you just walked in?

Well, I figured he was in the back room, so I made plenty of noise and heard the back door close. Next thing I know, he's out front, jumps in his car, and he takes off.

Tell me about the gasoline, Harry.

Yeah, yeah, there was a strong smell of gas in the house. It wasn't there when we left for the first time.

Then does that explain why I'm smelling gasoline right now?

It's on his shoes.

Yeah, I must have stepped in it. Now remember, it was pitch black, and I couldn't see a thing.

And you don't know who else was in the house?

Well, I assumed it was my client. It was his house.

I need names, Mr.

Nye.

I know. But a private eye is entitled to keep the name of a client confidential.

I think this situation overrides that policy. I'm not just investigating the fire. I'm investigating a death.

What are you talking about?

They found the remains of a body in the house.

Whose body?

I was hoping you could tell me. The body was burned beyond recognition.

Oh, boy.

Would you know who it was?

No.

Mr.

Nile, I'm sure you can see you're going to be a person of interest in this investigation. You admit that you entered this house illegally only moments before it caught on fire, and then you came away with shoes soaked in gasoline.

Hey, look, if I wanted to burn down a house, why would I set it on fire and then call the fire department to come and put it out?

And I was with Harry every second of the time. So that makes me a witness. And it gives Harry an alibi.

Or it makes you his accomplice. Now, one more time, Mr.

Nile.

Please, tell me the name of the man you say hired you.

You could find him on the tax rolls.

That was the first place I looked. So, you're telling me that you were hired by Avery Pelton?

Avery Pelton?

No.

He's listed as the owner of the house.

Okay.

It wasn't Pelton who hired me. It was Thomas Cassidy. He's the one we met with.

And who is Thomas Castle?

Well, right now he's running Pelton Global Investments for Mr. Pelton. He hired me to investigate a problem in the company.

Do you have any proof of that? Like a contract with his signature on it?

Well, that's why we had to turn around and go back to the house. We each thought the other had picked up the contract, but we hadn't.

And with no light, I couldn't find it when I went back.

So, you're telling me it got burned up in the fire.

Well, either that or Castle took it with him when he ran out of the house.

Well, you've pretty much got an answer for everything.

You know, I'll work with you every way I can. But I'm still under contract at Thomas Castle.

All right.

But for now, I'll just advise you both not to leave town. And I'm giving you my card in case you find out anything that has a bearing on this. Just call this number and ask for Deputy Hollins.

As soon as the cop leaves my office, I start trying to locate Thomas Castle. At Pelton Global, the gal on the switchboard asks my name, and after a half a minute on hold, a man picks up the phone.

Mr.

Nile?

Is this Mr.

Castle?

Boy, am I glad to hear your voice. After last night.

Excuse me, I'm not Mr.

Castle.

This is Avery Pelton. Can I help you?

What? Mr.

Pelton? I thought you were... Well, you must be feeling a lot better.

I think you have me confused with my father, Avery Pelton II. I may repel him a third.

Oh, his son.

Well, how's your dad doing?

I'm afraid he's not out of the woods yet. They're still doing tests to determine how much brain activity he has left.

The next few days will tell the tale.

Well, I wish him all the luck in the world.

Thank you.

Now, you wanted to talk with Mr.

Castle?

Yes, sir.

Well, I'm sorry he hasn't come in yet. Could someone else help you?

Well, maybe you could ask him to call me when you see him?

Are you one of our investors?

Right. I need to talk to him about my investments.

Very good. Just give me your number.

Main 5-6-3-8-0.

Main 5-6-3-8-0. I'll leave him a note to call you as soon as.

I hear from him.

Right.

Thanks, Mr.

Pelton. Murphy, I'm going to be downtown for a while. I'll call you. The parking garage for Pelton Global is in the basement of the building where their offices are. What I'm looking for is Castles de Soto that he drove away in last night. And then I come across seven 59 de Soto sedans parked side by side. Pelt must have bought a fleet of them for his top brass, but there are no names on the parking stalls, so I don't know if one of them is Castles or not.

I decide to dump the cloak and dagger approach that Castle wanted, and I take an elevator up to the headquarters of Pelton Global Investments. The receptionist takes my name, and in a minute, an athletic-looking young man with a pepsin and smile strides towards me with his handout. Mr.

Nile, I'm Avery Pelton III. We talked on the phone. What can I do for you?

I just need some information. Of course.

Let's go into my office where it's private. Please, have a seat.

Mr.

Nile, after we spoke on the phone, I didn't find your name on our client list. Didn't you say you were an investor?

Well, I may have mentioned something like that, yeah.

You gave me your phone number, and I called it as soon as we hung up. And a woman answered with Harry Nile Investigations. Or did I get the wrong number?

You're pretty good.

Thank you.

So, you're a private detective. I don't suppose you'll tell me who hired you, but I know my father didn't, and I certainly didn't, so I assume you're working for Tom Cassel. I'm sure good old Tom is going to pay you handsomely to try to find me doing something wrong.

Gee, sounds like you don't get along too well with him.

Avery Pelton's kid doesn't know squat about the investment business. All he does is ski. Does that sound familiar?

You're on a roll.

Well, then he'd have said, The kid's been selling off company secret star competitors, so Pelton Global will be worthless by the time I take over, and the kid will be a multi-millionaire.

What'd you do? Bug the place?

Well, Castle's right about two things. I didn't know much about the investment business, and skiing's been my passion ever since high school. I did lousy in college, and I never did a day's work in my life before Dad got sick. Dad's check arrived every month at my condo in Colorado, so I spent my life skiing my head off.

But when he called me a couple of months ago and told me he was planning to retire... I decided to chuck the playboy life and move back to Seattle to learn the trade and be here to help him if he needed me to take over. Someday.

Sounds reasonable.

Well, except at first I didn't see what Tom Castle was doing.

What was he doing?

Trying to cut my throat. Making up lies about selling companies' secret star competitors. Castle is a power-hungry egotist, and he won't rest until he's the head of this company. And he figures the only way that can happen is if he discredits me.

Why'd your dad ever hire him?

Well, a few years ago, when he needed a big chunk of money for expansion, along came Castle, just out of the military with a huge inheritance to invest. In return, Dad made him vice president and began teaching him the business. He taught a stranger what he should have taught me, only I was busy sliding down mountains. And now, if Dad doesn't survive, Castle will get the company. Turns out, the only person who stands in his way is me. Oh, but of course, if Castle can show the board of directors that I'm not fit to run the company, they'll vote me out and vote him in.

Looks like someone tried to vote him out last night.

What are you talking about?

Your dad's house out in Cedar City.

Wait a minute. What house? He never mentioned he has a house in Cedar City.

The county tax rolls say he does. Anyway, Thomas Castle asked me to meet him there, which I did. Around midnight, just after I left, it burned to the ground and they found a body in the ashes. Medical examiners trying to find out who it was, but personally, I think it was Castle. Oh, my God. Obviously, there was someone else in the house besides him.

Oh, wait a minute.

Here he is now.

Well, Deputy Holland, back again? Yeah, I'm back again. I've got a question for you. Do you own a gun? Being a PI, I assume you do.

Well, sure I own a gun. Why?

What kind is it?

It's a Smith & Wesson.

38.

Do you have it with you?

It's in my desk in the other office. You want to see it?

If I may, yes.

Sure.

Here you go.

You don't keep it loaded?

No. Bullets can kill people. I only load the gun when I think I want to shoot someone. Now, you want to tell me what this is all about?

You don't have any other gun than this one?

Nope.

Sold all my Tommy guns to Elliot Ness. Very funny.

The person who died in the fire last night had been shot twice with a. 38, and the M.E. recovered one of the slugs. The fire didn't melt it? Oddly enough, it didn't. In fact, the lab says they think they can get enough markings on it to run a comparison.

So you want to borrow my gun for a test firing?

Actually, it doesn't look like your gun's been fired recently, but it could use a cleaning.

I'll put a man right on it. Now, am I off the hook?

When we find out the name of the victim, we'll talk more. Here's your gun back.

Thanks.

See you later.

You probably will.

He was shot?

Yeah, I guess whoever set fire to the house wanted to cover up a murder.

Something else is bothering me, Harry. Why did Castle let us think that house belonged to him and not Mr.

Pelton?

It might have been used as a company retreat. I doubt that... Harry, now investigations.

Mr.

Niles?

Yes.

This is Thomas Castle.

Now, back to Harry Niles.

Mr.

Castle, where the heck are you, and where did you go last night?

That's immaterial at the moment. I'm calling to tell you to stop your investigation. I was wrong about young Pelton, so just leave it alone.

You sound terrible. You don't sound like yourself. We must have a bad phone connection.

I've said all I have to say. I'm going to be away for quite a while. Now, do as I told you.

Well, how do you like that?

What? It's Castle.

He's calling off the investigation.

Just like that?

Yeah, just like that.

Hmm.

What?

Well, I was just thinking. Young Avery Pelton knows I was hired to dig some dirt on him. So it's only fair to tell him that Castle's backed off and he can relax. Look up his phone number again, will you?

You said he was wrong about me?

I can hardly believe it.

Well, I don't know what he learned, but it looks like you won't have trouble with Mr. Castle anymore. Yeah, I've got to take another call. I'll talk to you later. Harry Nile Investigation.

Mr.

Nile?

Yeah?

This is Deputy Holland. I just got the word from the M.E. on the cadaver in that house fire.

Who was it?

According to his dental records, it was Thomas Castle. I'm open to theories about his killer.

This is really interesting. Thomas Castle called me about two minutes ago and told me to stop investigating young Avery Pelton III, and he said he was going to go away for a while.

Castle called you this morning? That's impossible.

He's dead.

How about meeting me at the headquarters of Pelton Global Investments? As soon as you can. I'll be by the elevators on the 10th floor. I'm glad you're wearing your uniform. That ought to stir him up. Come on, let's go in. Ah, what luck. There he is.

Mr.

Pelton, let me introduce Deputy Holland from the King County Sheriff's Office. How do you do, officer? I brought him up here so he could hear your Thomas Castle invitation.

Uh, I don't understand.

That call you made, telling me to end the investigation, that was you, wasn't it?

You're... You're out of your mind. I haven't any idea what you're talking about.

Well, we'll go down to headquarters, Mr. Pelton. Maybe your memory will improve.

Stop!

Stop!

Dad, no!

Who's this?

Avery Pelton, the second. This is my son.

Well, congratulations on your speedy recovery. Last I heard, you weren't sure you'd survive this.

I'll explain it all, but not here. My employees think I'm convalescing. When in fact, it was all a sham. My idea had to shake the tree and see what fell off.

Do you know what he's talking about?

Yeah. He faked having a stroke to stop Castle from taking over the business and ruining his son at the same time. But how did you con the emergency doctors into going along with the gag?

Money, Mr.

Nile, will buy practically anything.

Power Play was written and produced by Jim French and directed by Pat French. The Adventures of Harry Nile features Larry Albert as Harry. and Pat French as Murphy. Also heard were Peter Kelly, Dan Kramer, and Don Brady. The production is a copyrighted feature of Jim French Productions. This is Jay Green speaking. The Adventures of Harry Nile.

Perhaps you'd enjoy looking through our brochure while you wait, Mr.

Nile.

Huh?

Oh, okay.

Thanks.

Just make yourself comfortable. I'm sure Mr. Harwood will be right out.

Nice brochure. This is some layout you've got here.

We're very proud of it.

Well, Harry now, right?

That's me.

I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I was on long distance. Jack Harwood. We spoke on the phone yesterday.

Glad to meet you in person, Mr.

Harwood.

Let's go in my office. Hold my calls, please, Gloria.

Will do.

Take a seat, Harry, and I'll fill you in.

Well, this looks like a real high-class operation. Fairly new, isn't it?

The Afterglow has been open about three years, but I came out here just last month from our main office in Minneapolis to iron out some problems. Now, Harry, what I'm going to tell you is strictly off the record.

Of course.

When you come right down to it, the most valuable thing a retirement and nursing facility has is its reputation. And our reputation is on the line. I didn't want to mention it on the phone, but frankly, too many of our residents have been dying.

How many is too many?

The national average in facilities of our size runs about three deaths per year, but in our first year of operating, we lost six residents. The rate for our second year should have dropped, but it didn't. It got worse. Last year, we lost nine of our residents, and I'm afraid 1956 could wind up even worse. Nine residents have already died this year, and this is only September.

Elderly people die?

Oh, yes, yes. They're more subject to illness. That's why we have the health center, to provide round-the-clock nursing care for as long as they may need it. Our goal is to provide every resident a secure and comfortable home for as long as he or she lives, with all necessities taken care of.

Uh, didn't I just read that same sentence in your brochure?

Yes, yes, you probably did. The point is, Harry... The head office is extremely concerned. Something's haywire here, and I just haven't been able to pin it down.

Well, okay. First thing I'm going to need is everything you have in your files on the nine people who've died so far this year.

Yes, yes, I anticipated that, and I had my secretary collect those files. But mind you, they're the only copies in existence, so treat them like gold.

Right. I'll be careful with them.

Now, where do you want to begin?

Do you have a doctor on staff?

Yes, yes. Dr. Bernard Jacobs is our MD. His office is downstairs in the health center. Ah, just a minute. I told Gloria to hold my calls. Excuse me. Gloria, didn't you hear me tell you I don't want to be interrupted?

I heard you, Mr. Harwood, but I thought you'd want to know as soon as possible.

Know what?

Mrs.

Seeley in 302.

What about her?

She's dead. A nurse's aide just found her. Apparently she died in her sleep.

Good Lord. There's number 10.

Harry Nile will be back in a minute. Now, back to Harry Nile.

Yes, I'm Dr. Jacobs. You wanted to see me?

Doctor, my name is Harry Nile. I'm a private investigator doing some work for Mr. Harwood. If this is a bad time.

No, no, no.

This time is as good as any. Harwood told me he'd hired an investigator. What can I do for you?

I'd like to ask you some questions about the situation here.

Situation?

The death rate.

Let's go in this room where we can talk. We won't be interrupted here. This is the x-ray room.

Now, what do you need to know? Well, Mr.

Harwood tells me your residents are dying like flies. Pardon me. I guess that's a poor choice of words.

Mr.

Nile, the population in this facility receives the best of care. But unfortunately, a lifespan is unpredictable. Now, I know Jack Harward is concerned about our numbers, but I've assured him, and I assure you, statistics in this case don't tell the whole story.

Oh?

How so?

The only cause that's.

Common to all these deaths is old age. Everyone dies at some time and in some place. Over the long term, you'll find that the afterglow will be right in line with the national average for facilities of this type.

Mr.

Harwood hired me to find out if there was something fishy going on.

Only if you consider stroke, heart disease, diabetes, and a hundred other conditions common to geriatric patients as fishy.

I presume you learned of Mrs. Seeley's passing this morning.

Mrs.

Seeley was 92 years old. There's nothing suspicious here. Our goal is to provide every resident with a secure and comfortable home for as long as he or she lives, with all the necessities taken care of.

For the rest of the day, I nose around the establishment, talking with staff members and dozens of residents in the day room, the hobby center, and the library. Everyone seems contented, and nobody has a bad word for Harwood or the doctor. By 6 o'clock, the aroma from the kitchen makes me hungry, and it'll be a long drive back to Seattle. So I wander into the dining room to look around. An elderly gent at one of the tables stands up and weighs me over.

Looking for a place to sit?

I'd be glad to have you join me.

I'll take you up on that. My name's Harry Nile.

Mike Mattson. You visiting someone here?

Yeah, you could say that.

I like to guess people's job about half the time I get it right. I guess you're in law enforcement.

Didn't know it showed. Was I right? I used to be a policeman, but I went private several years ago. Here, take my card. Uh-huh, Seattle.

Well, I'll give you my card.

Michael Madsen, Lieutenant, Homicide Department, Bellingham PD, retired. I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Madsen. Meek and Mike. Okay, Mike, and I'm Harry. You lived here a long time? Not long.

And since I don't have any relatives left anymore, I figured I'd get out of the rat race and let somebody else take care of me. But I still ask a lot of questions. Guess I'm nosy. Once a detective, always a detective. I spent my whole life in police work, Harry, and I loved it. And the biggest thing that keeps an officer safe and effective is intelligence. Know who you're dealing with, know your surroundings, do your homework, know what you're getting into, and know the way out.

Amen to that.

Now, what brings you out here in the country? I'm doing a little job for Mr.

Harwood.

Oh, yes, Harwood. You know him well?

Actually, I just met him this afternoon.

What do you think of him?

I've only spent maybe ten minutes with him.

Why?

Is there something I ought to know?

You going to be around here tomorrow?

Probably. Look me up.

I'm in 118. Maybe by then I'll have a thing or two to show you, and you'll know a little more than you do now. Here comes the waitress. What are the corned beef and cabbage? Usually pretty good.

After dinner, I pick up the metal case holding the files and make the long drive back to Seattle. Next morning.

Good morning, Harry.

Oh, what have you got there? The files on everyone who died at the afterglow this year.

Tell me what you're looking for. Maybe I can help.

I'm going to look for any way that these cases were connected to each other and whether someone could have profited by their deaths.

You mean by their wills, insurance, that sort of thing?

Yeah, anything that looks suspicious. Here, we'll each take half of them. Look for any similarities among the records of these people, like of the same lawyers or the same conservators. And so we begin examining every piece of paper in every file. It turns out there isn't much to examine. Medical histories, names of next of kin, insurance policies, inventories of personal belongings they brought with them when they arrived.

Between the dry old papers and the warm September morning, I can hardly keep from nodding off. But when I finished reading the files, I can't find a single thing to be suspicious of, and neither can Murphy.

So what are we missing here? Maybe there weren't any shenanigans going on after all.

Shenanigans?

It's an old Irish word that means tomfoolery.

And tomfoolery means?

It's an old English word that means mischief.

And mischief?

What's more, I don't see any signs that any of these ladies were wealthy enough to steal from. A couple of them wound up penniless, and the afterglow paid their rent for them until they died.

Now, that's interesting. No men died in the past year at the afterglow. Only women.

I would assume these women were already widows when they came to live there.

Yeah.

Well, maybe it's like Dr. Jacobs said. They all died of old age. Simple as that.

Which means there was no crime to investigate. Which means we are out of a fat fee.

Murphy, I'm surprised at you. We're doing a public service.

Harry and Al Investigations, this is Murphy. And who may I say is calling?

Mr.

Harwood?

Just a moment, please.

Mr.

Harwood from the after call.

Give it here.

Good morning, Mr.

Harwood.

Harry, I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm going to have to cancel.

Our arrangement with you.

Is that so?

Why? Well, I had no business hiring a private investigator. I must have overreacted. It seems that there's nothing suspicious here after all. The national figures I was working from were wrong. I was wrong. So I'd appreciate it if you'd just return those files to my office this afternoon, if that's convenient. And we're still keeping all of this absolutely.

Private, right?

Right.

Harry!

Just a minute, Murphy.

Harry, I found the shenanigan. Someone's been stealing from those old people.

Can I call you back, Mr.

Harwood?

I'll be here all day, so I'll expect to see you just as soon as you can get here. I want to hear more of what that lady said.

Right.

Just remember, Harry, our goal is to provide every resident with a secure and comfortable home for as long as he or she lives with all necessities taken care of.

What is that, the Boy Scout oath? If I hear that spiel one more time, I'm going to set it to music.

Harry, I know what's missing in these files.

What?

There are no records showing the income these people had. No investments, no annuities, no copies of life insurance policies, no pension or retirement income.

That's right. Why wouldn't their files be jammed with that stuff?

Unless they were removed before you got them.

Huh.

I'm going to think about that on the drive up to Mount Vernon.

Oh, Mr. Nile, you're here.

Mr.

Harwood will be so glad to get those files back. And I have your check ready for you.

Already? Great, Gloria, thanks. And here are the files.

Perfect.

Mr. Harwood said he wanted to talk to me when I got here.

Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Harwood stepped out for a while. Could I help you?

No. I think while I'm waiting, I'll go visit one of your residents I met yesterday.

Oh, really?

Which resident was that?

Mike Mattson.

Oh, Mr.

Mattson.

Well, I hate to disappoint you, but Mr. Matson left this morning with his son to go on a fishing trip. I believe he said. I don't really know when he'll be back.

His son took him fishing? How nice.

Uh-huh. Is there anything else I can do for you?

Oh, maybe I'll go downstairs and talk with Dr. Jacobs for a few minutes. Dr.

Jacobs?

Oh, you won't believe this, but I saw him drive away about a half hour ago. We're just not having any luck today, are we?

No, I guess not.

But I'll certainly tell Mr. Harwood and Dr. Jacobs that you wanted to see them. I know they'll be disappointed to have missed you.

So, three strikes and I'm out. As I walk back to my car, I tear open the envelope Gloria gave me, and it's for $ 500. For one day's work and travel, my minimum of a hundred bucks would have covered it nicely. A suspicious person might think the five franklins are a bribe to make me forget the whole thing. And I suddenly think of something Mike Madsen said yesterday.

Since I don't have any relatives anymore, I figured I'd get out of the rat race and let somebody else take care of me.

Mike has no relatives? Then he has no son. So who was the guy he went fishing with? And did he go fishing at all? I do an about-face and march back into the reception room.

Oh, did you forget something, Mr.

Nile?

No, I just remembered something. Gloria, did you tell me that Mike Madsen's son picked him up to take him fishing?

Why, yes.

Did you ever see him before?

I don't think so. Why do you ask?

Because Mike told me yesterday he has no living relatives.

He said that? How strange. Or I suppose I could have misunderstood him... At any rate, he's not here.

It's still fairly early in the afternoon. I think I'll hang around and wait for Mr. Harwood to get back.

I don't expect him back today.

And Dr. Jacobs isn't here?

No, he's not.

Then who's watching the store?

I beg your pardon?

Who runs things when they had honchos or away?

That would be me.

Okay.

Just in case either of them gets back, I'm going to stroll around for a while.

No, you're not.

Come again?

What I meant to say was we don't allow unescorted guests beyond that door. It leads to private living quarters for our residents.

Or can I have an escort, then?

There's no one available at this time of day. You have to understand, Mr. Nile, we protect the privacy and security of our residents. Our goal is to provide every resident.

With a secure and comfortable home for as long as he or she lives.

See?

I've already memorized it.

It's the corporate creed. It's what we live by.

Now, Mr.

Nile, I'm quite busy, so I'll thank you to just leave.

I've been given the bum's rush before and always for the same reason. Someone's got something they don't want me to find out. I go out to the parking lot again. I know Gloria's watching me, so I make like I'm driving to the exit. But when I'm out of her sight, I swing back and drive down a driveway to the side of the building where a sign reads, Resident Parking Only.

There's a side door, so I park and stand by it until an old gent opens it and comes out to go to his car. I smile at him and say hello, and I catch the door before it swings shut. Just like that, I'm inside. I'm in the health center. I can tell by the smell of chlorine and bleach. Down at the other end of the hall, there's a woman in a white uniform coming out of the x-ray room.

So I duck through the nearest door, and I'm in an employee's locker room, and hanging on a clothes rack are some white lab coats. I exchange my sport coat for one of the coats, and 30 seconds later, I'm back in the hallway, gowned and trying to look medical. I take the elevator up one level and start looking for room 118, Mike Madsen's room. I find it and slip inside. So far, so good. As a career detective, Mike must have kept a notebook. Maybe he still does.

He knew I'd be here today to see him. Then, on top of his dresser, I find it. I leaf through it until I come to the page with today's date and a card falls out. It's the business card I gave him. On the back of it, he scribbled, Harry, check the drugs.

Back to the adventures of Harry Nile in one minute.

Now, back to Harry Nile. The pharmacy is a small room off the main hall on the first floor, separated from the hallway by a chain-link screen. And the door's locked. So, where can I go now? There's a nurse's station up ahead and a few old folks resting quietly in wheelchairs. I have to risk it. I walk casually past the nurse at her desk, nod to her, and keep on going.

Nobody calls out. No alarm bell rings. The next door looks familiar. It goes into the x-ray room where Dr. Jacobs and I talked yesterday. Turn the knob and walk right in. And there, on a gurney, strapped down and motionless, lies Mike Metz.

Mike, can you hear me?

Terry Nile.

Harry, did you get my message?

Yeah, I got it. What are you doing in here? What's happening? Oh, I guess I passed out.

What are you doing in here?

Why did the doctor get up?

Looking for you and the drugs. What drugs?

Help me out of this harness.

Sure. All right, come on. All right. Now, tell me about the drugs.

The drugs, they don't give us.

Don't give you?

What are you talking about? I don't know.

I haven't figured it out yet myself, but these women who died here... Something was done to their medications. That much I know.

You mean poison? No, I don't think so.

Poison would be too easy to trace in an autopsy. I'm dizzy when I try to sit up. You don't have to sit up. How did you find out about this? Because I happened to look in Mary Seeley's wastebasket.

I don't understand.

I went into her room and I saw what was in her wastebasket. Nine or ten little boxes of medicine. If Mary had just died, I'd have asked her what her meds were doing in the trash. So I did the next best thing.

I kiped them. You stole?

I took them to my room to show you when you came to see me. That's what they were looking for this morning. I wouldn't tell them what I did with them. So they bundled me up, stuck me in here. And when Jacobs gets back, I'll no doubt get the truth serum.

Sodium pentothal?

Well, whatever.

Whatever.

Now, how'd you get past Gloria to come to my room?

I used the side entrance. You think you can walk?

I wouldn't count on it. I took my pills when I got up, but they don't seem to do any good. So, maybe I'm going to be next.

Next for what?

What Mary Seeley got.

A one-way ticket out.

Listen, Mike.

The pharmacy's locked, but I've got to find where Dr. Jacobs stashes the medications.

In a cabinet in his office next door. He's got a supply that would make your friendly Rexall pharmacist green with envy.

And the door between the x-ray room and his office isn't locked. I go to a tall steel cabinet and open it up. And here I see shells filled with prescribed medicines. And every little bottle has a pharmacy label with the name of the patient and the doctor typed on it and the date. The names look familiar. They're the names of the ten residents who died this year.

I close up the cabinet and slip back into the x-ray room. And just as I'm about to tell Mike what I discovered, in walks Dr. Jacobs in an orderly with biceps like truck axles.

The nurse told me she saw a stranger walking around in a doctor's coat. All right, restrain the big one, Stuart.

Now, you don't need the muscle, Doc. You can have the coat back.

Take him, Stuart. I can handle Mr. Mattson myself. He's not feeling too well today.

When I was a cop, I'd have had you on your back, Jacobs.

Now, Mr.

Nile, Stuart has had to handle violent patients before at a mental hospital. Please do not make another move if you value your neck.

Who writes your dialogue, Bela Lugosi?

Just hold him in that position, Stuart, until I'm finished with him.

Now, guess what we are doing here.

Trying to find out what you're getting out of your patients who die.

Oh, I see.

If I understand you correctly, you think that I somehow benefit when one of our residents passes away?

Explain to me just exactly how that would work.

Well, when someone moves into the Afterglow, they sign all their income over to you. So that when they die, you get their money. That's why there's no financial paperwork in any of the dead patients' files.

You're absolutely right. That's the agreement they all must sign when they move here. And that pays for us to provide every resident with a secure and comfortable.

Oh, stop.

You say that again and I'll let Stuart break my neck.

If you had checked other facilities like ours, you would have seen that this is a perfectly legal, standard way to finance our services. It's done everywhere, all the time.

The only difference is you can't wait for us to die, so you speed things up by switching our medications.

Is that how it works?

Harwood wasn't in on the scam?

No, no.

He was a troubleshooter from the home office.

What happened to him?

Oh, he's been well taken care of.

Taken care of very well by these gentlemen, buddy.

Harwood!

I thought you were.

On a plane back to Minneapolis with your hush money?

No.

I turned that money over to this gentleman.

I'm Ron Kelly, sheriff of Skagit County, and these are two of my deputies.

All right, boys. Take the doctor with us. They already have that receptionist, Gloria. I want to talk to my attorney. This is all a misunderstanding.

You can use the phone at the jail.

Turn around, Dr. Jacobs.

Good morning, Harry.

What's the matter?

You're limping.

You're not standing straight, but you're grinning like a treasured cat. What's going on?

And good morning to you. The limp and the back pain are courtesy of an orderly at the health center named Stuart. He mistook me for a grapefruit and squeezed.

Oh, no.

And the grin is because of this.

What's in here?

Open it.

What?

Five hundred dollars?

And exactly one half of that will be yours.

Mine?

Why?

Well, you cracked the case, pointed to the motive for the death. And you'll be glad to know that we found that Jacobs, the soon-to-be ex-doctor, was substituting placebos for real medicine for the patients he wanted to have die sooner rather than later. So there was no poison to show up in the autopsy. Now, what are you going to do with your $ 250?

Oh, that's easy. I'm going to pay some of our bills.

What are you talking about? It's your money. Buy something you need. Oh, I will. Oh.

It's called job security.

The Dying Game was written by Jim French and directed by Pat French. Larry Albert is Harry Nile, and Pat French is Murphy. Also in our cast were Paul Herlinger, Frank Buxton, Mary Ann Dorward, Russell Johnson, and yours truly, Jay Green.

Music Music Music.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you for watching. Thank you. so so.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you for watching. Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

So I assume you're working for Tom Castle. I'm sure good old Tom is going to pay you handsomely to try to find me doing something wrong.

Gee, sounds like you don't get along too well with him.

Avery Pelton's kid doesn't know squat about the investment business. All he does is ski. Does that sound familiar?

You're on a roll.

Well, then he'd have said, The kid's been selling off company secrets to our competitors, so Pelton Global will be worthless by the time I take over. And the kid'll be a multi-millionaire.

What'd you do? Bug the place?

Well, Castle's right about two things. I didn't know much about the investment business, and skiing's been my passion ever since high school. I did lousy in college, and I never did a day's work in my life before Dad got sick. Dad's check arrived every month at my condo in Colorado, so I spent my life skiing my head off.

But when he called me a couple of months ago and told me he was planning to retire, I decided to chuck the playboy life and move back to Seattle to learn the trade and be here to help him if he needed me to take over.

Someday.

Sounds reasonable.

Well, except at first I didn't see what Tom Castle was doing.

What was he doing?

Trying to cut my throat. Making up lies about selling companies' secret star competitors. Castle is a power-hungry egotist, and he won't rest until he's the head of this company. And he figures the only way that can happen... as if he discredits me.

Why'd your dad ever hire him?

Well, a few years ago, when he needed a big chunk of money for expansion, along came Castle, just out of the military with a huge inheritance to invest. In return, Dad made him vice president and began teaching him the business. He taught a

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