Broadway Is My Beat

Broadway Is My Beat: Don’t Be A Stranger

Montag, 19. Oktober 2026 · 1 h 26

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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 Adventures of Harry Nile. Christmas is coming. The goose is getting fat. Please put a penny in an old man's hat. Harry may never have heard that old English childhood rhyme. And now of all seasons, he needs a few pennies in his own hat. Christmas is no time to be facing impoverishment. For this is 1945. And just around the corner is the first peacetime Christmas in five years. So, having no better place to go, Harry drops into Lester's Tavern to admire the Christmas lights and the scraggly tree on the bar.

Season's greetings, Harry.

Hey!

Long time no see, pal. You want to sit at the bar or you want a booth?

Nah, I'm by myself. Hey, what'd you do with the back of the place?

You see the piano?

Yeah, piano.

Oh, yeah. What are you doing with the piano?

Well, I figured, what the hay, it's Christmas.

So, who you got there playing your piano?

Ziggy Barnes.

Ah, never heard of him.

Hey, just get out of the Navy.

He's good, Harry.

You want to meet him?

Ah, not especially.

Oh, boy, you're a lot of laughs tonight, Harry, aren't you?

Hey, Ziggy. Ziggy, come here.

Somebody I want you to meet.

Nice kid, Harry. Used to play in all the school assembly.

Yeah, well, that's great, but I don't know anything about it.

Call me, Mr.

Lester? Yeah, yeah, I did.

Ziggy, meet one of our regulars here, Harry Nile. Harry, shake hands with Ziggy Barnes.

Oh, glad to make your acquaintance, Mr.

Nile.

Harry's a private detective, Ziggy.

No kidding?

Gee.

Play something to cheer him up. I'll kill the jukebox.

Oh, come on. I don't need cheering up.

What do you like?

Huh?

What kind of songs?

I don't like songs at all.

Ziggy knows them all, don't you, Zig?

Oh, come on. I'm just going to head back to the office. I got a lot of things to do.

Hey, you drop in for the first time in a month. Now you turn around and go. Relax a while, Harry. You got problems?

Oh, nothing unusual. Oh, I could use a little more work is all.

Are you really a private detective?

Yeah.

Boy, that's probably what we need, a detective.

Oh?

You guys keep talking.

I'll bring over a couple of beers.

So why might you need a private detective?

Well, my sister, she was in a car accident a little over a year ago. Now she's in a wheelchair.

Ah, that's rough.

Yeah, well, the thing is, she'd been going with a guy in the army, see? They were engaged to be married, and then when the accident happened, she was paralyzed. She stopped writing to him. She didn't want him to feel sorry for her, see? She said she didn't want to hold him to the engagement. See, the doctors say she'll never be able to walk again.

Jenny, she, uh, she don't want him to see her like she is now.

Well, how'd the boyfriend take it? Well, that's just it.

He doesn't know.

What do you mean? Well, Ray was overseas when it happened. See, she never wrote and told him. She just kind of like stopped writing to him. Well, did he keep writing her?

Oh, yeah, yeah, sure.

But when he stopped getting letters from Jenny, well, finally he stopped writing too.

I really like Ray.

I think he deserved to know what happened.

Well, the war's been over almost four months. You'd think he'd make every effort to find out what happened.

Yeah, I know.

I kind of wonder about that.

Jenny.

She just doesn't.

Want to talk about him anymore, like he never happened, like they were never in love and planning to get married, you know?

Okay, you guys, I've got a couple of cold ones here on the house.

What the hay? It's Christmas. How long does it usually take to locate someone, Mr.

Nile?

Well, it depends on how hard it is to find a guy.

Of course, Harry, since you're not busy right now, you could probably put your full time in on it, couldn't you?

Will you cut it out, Lester? Now, look, Ziggy, I'd have to talk to your sister more about it.

No, no, wait a minute.

Why? I'm the one who's going to be paying you. Well, suppose she doesn't want anyone located. What's his name? What if she doesn't want to see him? Ray, right? You already said she didn't want him to know she's paralyzed. She's got a right to her privacy. Yeah, yeah, well, okay, I see your point, but.

But all I'm hiring you to do is find the guy.

I'll take it from there.

Isn't this beautiful?

I get two people together, and in five minutes, I've got both their problems solved.

You'll do it, Harry, for a nice discount.

It's like you say, Lester. It's Christmas. What the hay? The Barnes family lives in a nice old California bungalow on the shady side street near the Glendale station. There's a big front window. As I come up the walk, I can see the front room is neat as a pin. Big brown mohair sofas and chairs and an old upright piano.

There's a Christmas tree and a wheelchair with a woman in it. When I ring, it's Ziggy who opens the door. Good morning, Mr. Nile. You're right on time. I try to be.

Come on in.

We're ready for you. This is my mom. Mrs. Barnes.

How do you do?

And this is Jenny. Jenny. How do you do?

Sit down, please. Can I get you some coffee?

Well, no, not right now, thanks.

Elmer tells me you're a private investigator.

Uh, Elmer?

That's, uh, that's my formal name.

Ziggy is my, uh, that's my professional name.

Elmer was good enough for your father, and it ought to be good enough for you. Oh, mother.

Mr.

Nile.

Let me come right to the point. I'm not happy about my brother getting you involved in.

No, no, no, no. I'm not involved. You don't want any further contact with your fiancé? That's your business.

He's not my fiancé anymore.

Oh, Ziggy. Elmer said this fellow Ray has no idea why he stopped getting letters from you. I imagine that must have been pretty frustrating for him. After all, he was planning to marry you, wasn't he?

I'd really rather not discuss it.

Jenny.

Mother, it's my life.

Yeah, but it's his life, too.

What do you think he's thinking?

Do we have to pursue this in front of strangers?

I'm sorry, Mr. Nile.

It's really no business of anyone's except mine. But my family doesn't seem to be willing for me to live my own life.

What's left of it. Oh, Jenny.

Well, look, I'll just be on my way.

Oh, no.

Stay as long as you want. I agreed to see you so that I could make it plain to you that I.

Don't want Ray to come back into my life. I prefer things the way they are now. I want nothing more to do with my past life. So I'm afraid we've wasted your time. Now I have things to do back in my bedroom. You see, I can get around just fine without any help. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr.

Nile.

Goodbye. Merry Christmas.

Yes.

Well, like I say, I'll just be on my way.

Oh, I'm so embarrassed. Please forgive her. the accident. She's a changed person. She never was like this. She was always such a sweet, well-mannered girl.

This is what I came home to.

When I left for sea duty, my sister was really a happy person all the time.

Yes, she was arranging her trousseau for the wedding. She would spend hours framing Ray's sketches and artwork.

See, he's a terrific artist.

And then that terrible, horrible drunk ran into her car and broke her back. She has no life anymore. It's as if she.

Now, she's a very bitter young woman. Well, who could blame her?

We think.

Well, that is, if someone could find Ray and explain what's happened, if he would come back to her, as I'm sure he would want to do... And get her mind off herself. Well, they could be married, just as they planned.

And that's why you want me to find Ray. Well, plus he got a raw deal. I feel sorry for him. He deserves to know what happened. But Jenny deserves to be left alone, if that's what she wants.

Left alone?

Why, she can't be left alone, even for a day. Someone has to do everything for her, now.

Well, I think it over for a day, and I finally make up my mind what I should do. Ziggy wants to square things with Ray, his mother wants the wedding to go on as planned, and Jenny, poor Jenny, just wants to bury her past life and disappear. But it's Ziggy's money that's going to pay for my services, and all he wants to buy is information. The location of Ray Stanton, Sergeant Ray Stanton, 24th Infantry Division. I convince myself that what Ziggy does with the information is no concern of mine.

May you be merry and bright, and may.

All your Christmas days Well, you.

Were great, folks.

I'm going to take a little short.

Break here, and I'll be right back. Oh, Mr. Nile.

Glad to see you. Yeah, Ziggy. Well, you got him singing.

Yeah.

Tell me, what's your decision?

Well, you want to go sit in the booth?

Well, sure.

Is this one okay? Yeah, yeah, yeah. This is fine. Well, so is it yes or no? Well, I'm going to do it. I'll start in the morning. But I've got to have everything I can get about this guy. I've got to have his army address, especially.

Oh, I'm way ahead of you.

Look, here.

What's in this package? Well, his address, some photos of him, and these. What?

Letters.

Letters he wrote to Jenny.

And she gave them to you? Are you kidding? Yeah, you stole them, huh? Well, I borrowed them.

Uh-huh.

All right, all right, I'll put them back.

But I thought you ought to know that Ray and my sister were really serious about each other.

Go ahead, open one of them.

Here, open this one.

It's the last ones you ever got from me.

It's in pencil, on the filmy, flimsy paper they called V-mail. But his writing is clear and precise, as an artist would write. And in the din of Lester's tavern in Glendale and under the dim glow of the tavern light, I can make out some of the anguish he felt. It was written in June of this year, 1945, days after the Germans surrendered, not quite two months before we dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima and the second one on Nagasaki, ending the war. And some of it had been cut out by the censor, but what was left spoke volumes. You can't know where I'm writing this, and neither of us knows what's ahead, but... all that uncertainty is nothing compared to how I feel not getting letters from you for so very long, my darling. What

bothers me most is that the other guys get plenty of mail, but nothing from you in all of these months. It's June, Jenny. Will you be my bride next June, or the June after that? Please, Oh, please write to me, Jenny. Oh, I've seen enough.

And?

I'll find him. Next morning, I begin running into the Army red tape that Ziggy had warned me about. His APO number tells me nothing about where he might be assigned, but Ziggy told me Sergeant Ray Stanton had come from a small town in Hancock County, Illinois, and that helps. After an hour on the long-distance phone, I find that the Stantons live on a farm and have no phone, only a rural route mailbox. But it figures that someone in the nearest town might know the Stantons, so I get put through to a store and jackpot! The proprietor knows the family. Know them very well. I know them very well. Well, do you know their son Ray, the sergeant in the army?

Ray?

No, he's back. He just got out of the service a little while ago.

Well, do you know where he is, huh? Oh, not exactly.

California, I think they said.

California?

Where in California?

You got me.

And he never came back home? Not that I know of. Well, thanks for your help anyway.

Sure thing. Say, you really calling all the way from California?

Yeah.

Well, maybe you'll run into him.

Well, all I know now that I didn't know before is that Ray Stanton is out of the Army and somewhere in California. So I make the rounds. Red Cross, Traveler's Aid, even half a dozen USO clubs. They look at Ray Stanton's snapshot and they shake their heads. I go to the Veterans Administration. They tell me to write Washington.

Looking for one discharged soldier in a sea of returning servicemen is like looking for a needle in a field of haystacks. It's past summertime and I'm parched, and my dogs are barking from all the walking I've done, so I stop by at Lester's.

Well, pal, I can't say you haven't tried.

Ah, it's days like this I wish I was back on the beat. At least I only had to walk eight hours a night.

You got a packet in there, Harry?

Something's been bothering me. If this guy was that much in love with Jenny, the second he's back in the States, wouldn't he make a beeline to her house to see her?

That makes sense, yeah.

But he didn't. Or did he? Hmm. Well, suppose the guy gets discharged and he heads for Jenny's house and it's dark, it's night time. He walks up that front walker there as he plans for a big reunion. He looks in that living room window and bang, he sees Jenny in her wheelchair.

And he turns around and he runs away with a cowardly, no good son of.

A sea cook. Take a look at the guy.

Huh?

This picture. Here, take a look at this. This snapshot.

Yeah.

Yeah, he looks like the type.

Love him and leave him.

No, I want you to look closely at him. You wouldn't have seen him around here, would you?

Here?

Uh, nah, probably not. But if he got out of the Army and comes to California, why didn't he try to see Jenny? Why didn't he at least try to find out why she stopped writing to him? Day two. I'm plodding through the Christmas shopping crowds, trying something new. I figured with Ray Stanton's interest in painting and sketching, he might have stopped off at an art shop. I show his picture up and down the main stem in Glendale, Highland Park, Eagle Rock. I get nowhere. Out on the sidewalk, I get squinty-eyed from staring at every young guy in an Army uniform or a new civvy suit with a ruptured duck. You know, the veteran's insignia right there on the lapel.

Nothing.

And the local phone book is fresh out of art shops and galleries. Next stop, over the Arroyo Seco into Pasadena. And day three.

Yes, sir. Something I can show you?

No, I'm afraid not, but there's something I want to show you. Here, take a look at this picture. Tell me if you've seen this guy in your store. He might not be in uniform.

Hmm.

Let's see. Are you from the police?

No, no, no. I'm working private. The guy in the picture is missing. Now, we know he's an artist. I thought maybe he could have stopped in here to look at your.

You say he's an artist?

Yeah.

Let me look at that again.

Oh, yes.

Yes, I may have seen this man.

You think you did? When?

I don't know exactly. Could have been last month.

Oh, I know.

Yeah, what?

Of course, our mystery man.

Come on, what are you talking about?

Just a minute. I'll be right back.

All right.

Now, where are they? Ah, here we are. Here we are.

What do you got there?

It's right here on this receipt.

What is?

On November 2nd, we accepted these six drawings on consignment from a man who had obviously been in the service, came in, said he had no further use for these sketches, and.

Asked if we'd buy them from him. Well, we don't.

Buy from strangers, but under the circumstances, I took them on consignment. They haven't sold. The fact is, I haven't even shown them. Oh, I felt sorry for them.

Well, would you let me see them? Of course, here.

Clearly, the work of an amateur. Yet, you know, there is something endearing about the way he drew her.

There are six drawings in pencil on small sheets of paper. Like the man said, they weren't all that great, but it didn't matter. Because even I could tell they were drawings of Jenny Barnes.

Are you interested in them?

What? Oh, yeah, yeah, very interested. Look, do you have an address or a phone number on the guy?

Afraid not. That's why I call him our mystery man. He said he's staying at the Vista de la Royal.

Oh, what's that, a hotel?

Well, it used to be. Only, of course, it hasn't been a hotel since the war.

So what is it now?

An army hospital.

Suddenly, I'm not tired anymore. I jump into the car and head back the way I came.

May I help you, sir?

Look, Miss... Corporal will do. Okay, great. Look, I'm looking for a soldier. He's a sergeant. Here's his picture. His name is Ray Stanton.

Is he a patient here?

Well, that's just it. I wouldn't know, only I'm pretty sure he's been discharged.

Well, then he wouldn't be here.

He wouldn't? No, sir.

They don't discharge patients until they can leave treatment.

Ah.

Here's your picture back.

Excuse me, you didn't take a very good look at it.

Well, I assumed it was taken before he was injured.

Well, I don't know that he was injured.

Then why would he be in a hospital?

Look, miss, corporal, would you just take another look at this guy? Ray Stanton is his name. I have reason to believe he's here in the hospital. Are you sure you don't recognize the guy in the picture?

I'm sorry, but I wouldn't recognize him now.

I don't get you.

Well, maybe you weren't aware.

This hospital specializes in skin grafts for burn patients.

I mean, most of the patients don't look at all the way they did before they were wounded.

Now it begins to make sense. I get the corporal to look through the roster of patients, and sure enough, Sergeant Ray Stanton is among them. She arranges a pass for me, and I go up to the second floor and tell my story to a major in the Army Medical Corps.

Yes, Sergeant Stanton is ambulatory. It's good for the men to get out and get some exercise and Get used to being seen.

I am being seen.

Well, it's a big adjustment, especially with facial damage such as Stanton here has.

What are you telling me?

Gasoline burns. You see, he and his crew were refueling a bomber.

Stanton agrees to see me. He looks at me through a mask of tortured, fiery skin. His injuries left no hint of the handsome man in the snapshot. But we talk, and I tell him I was hired by Jenny's brother just to find him.

Find me.

Nothing more.

That's all.

So you'll tell Ziggy where I am.

I don't suppose I could ask you not to.

You can ask.

Well, do you want me to beg?

Don't you see the way I am now? I just want to be left alone. It's good Jenny stopped writing. It makes it easier.

You still love her, Ray?

What do you want me to say? Yes, I still love her.

Well, then come on. We're going to take a little ride. Yeah, sure, I'm going beyond my warrant, like my old sergeant in Chicago used to say, but this time it feels right. I talk Ray Stanton into riding out to Glendale with me, and I pull up in front of Jenny Barnes' house.

I'm not getting out of the car.

That's fine.

If she should see me and come out, you got a promise just to drive away.

That's a promise.

I don't want her sympathy. I'm glad she found someone else.

Who says she did?

Well, she stopped writing me over a year ago. She's forgotten me by now.

You figure that's why she stopped writing?

What else?

Look in the window.

Huh?

In the living room. Right in the living room window.

Yeah, there's Ziggy trimming the Christmas tree.

Well, why don't you slip out of the car and walk up the front walk? Look into the living room. It's dark outside. They won't see you.

Oh, no?

No, they won't see you, but... You'll see in, and then you'll understand.

Understand what?

Everything. Go on, I'll wait right here.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Just do it, Ray. Ray Stanton climbs out of my car and edges up the front walk. He turns around once and I wave him on. He steals up closer to the window. That's when Jenny appears, rolling into the living room in her wheelchair. Ray freezes. stunned in his tracks. And I know it's all coming clear to him now because then he goes right up to their front door and he knocks and he's inside the living room and I see Jenny rolling her chair toward him and holding up her arms to him and she's crying and Ziggy's crying and his mother's crying and Ray's crying and I, well, I hit the starter and the radio comes on. And I figure, well, maybe there is a Santa Claus.

The Adventures of Harry Nile are created and produced by Jim French. Phil Harper stars as Harry. With Jack Morton, Brad Perkins, Terry Rose, Pat French, Douglas Young, Portia Hill Carroll, Rose Coulter, Meryl Mayo, and yours truly, Jay Green. Sound created by Stu Conway. This program was produced before a live audience in Seattle. The Adventures of Harry Nile The dictionary tells us that the condition known as dog days results when the dog's star rises and sets with the sun from early in July to around the middle of August.

But astronomy and astrology aside, this condition is also recognized as hot summer weather when dogs and detectives seek shade and maybe.

A cooling drink.

Can I.

Have some more?

No, no, no. Thanks anyway. I'd forgotten what buttermilk tastes like.

Oh, Herb brings me quarts of it.

Herb?

My guy.

He's a milkman. Drives for Arden Farms.

Ah.

He says buttermilk's an acquired taste.

And you never acquired the taste.

I hate it.

So why don't you tell Herb to stop bringing it?

Because I'm afraid he'll stop coming around. He brings me stuff his customers don't want.

And he's supposed to take it back to the dairy instead of giving it away?

Oh, he pays for it, but he doesn't like to return too much stuff... He gets a bonus or something if he sells a lot of buttermilk or cottage cheese.

Uh-huh.

Well, now, Nora, I've driven out here. I've petted your cat. I drank your buttermilk. Now, how about you telling me about the missing person I'm supposed to find?

Gerard.

Yeah, Gerard. Who is he, a relative?

Almost.

We've been together almost a year. It's not like him just to wander off.

Where'd he live? Here. With you?

Uh-huh.

In this little apartment?

Uh-huh.

And how does that go over with Herb?

Oh, fine. Herb loves Gerard. Is there anything wrong with that?

How long has Gerard been gone?

A week.

You call the police?

No.

Why not?

Herb says they don't look for lost dogs.

They don't? Gerard is a dog.

What do you think?

And you want me to find a dog?

Uh-huh.

Nora, I told you on the phone, my rate is 50 a day.

Plus six senses, I know. Can you find him, do you think?

Well, people don't ordinarily hire private investigators to find their dogs.

Well, Gerard isn't an ordinary dog.

Uh-huh.

Okay, he's not an ordinary dog. What makes him worth spending maybe three or four hundred dollars to find him? I'd sort of guess you aren't exactly rolling in dough.

Well, like I said, he's special. He saved my life.

Oh, is that so?

And I need him back so he can protect me.

From who?

My husband.

So he won't kill me.

There was nothing in my appointment book. Even the bookworms were starving. So when the girl named Norah White phoned to ask me to locate Gerard, I decided to drive out and see if Gerard was findable. Of course, at that time, I didn't know Gerard was a mastiff. Well, it turns out Nora lives in a stuffy one-room apartment on Victory Boulevard, where every third address is a cut-rate liquor store or a wrecking yard. Nora isn't what you call pretty. She's no bigger than a 12-year-old, but she looks defenseless. And she certainly needs help.

I have some snapshots of him in this drawer. Here, see?

That's a big dog. Who's the guy with you?

Oh, that's Herb.

The milkman. You got any pictures of your husband?

No.

Well, why do you think he wants to kill you?

I don't know.

Has he tried to harm you?

Sure. He broke into the apartment one night.

How long ago?

About, oh, maybe a month ago.

And?

Gerard bit him.

How do you know he was trying to kill you?

Because he called me up and he said he was going to come over and kill me.

He called you?

Uh-huh.

Give me this guy's name.

Ellis Clapper.

Where does he live?

In Long Beach.

You divorced him?

No, I'm annulled. My folks got the marriage annulled. They said I was too young to know my own mind. I was pretty mad at them when they did it, but now I'm glad. I wouldn't like to be married to Ellis anymore.

It turns out Nora is just barely 18. Ellis is almost twice her age. Her folks live in the desert and they send her.

$ 25 a month.

This tells me why she's so scrawny. So, naturally, I ask her how she thinks she can afford me.

Oh, don't worry about that.

Look. Wow. Where'd you get all that money?

From the bank.

The bank?

The bank we robbed.

You and Alice robbed a bank?

Uh-huh.

When?

Last year.

Where?

Someplace out of town. I'm not good at addresses.

Well, when last year?

I really can't remember. Why does it matter?

Well, there must be a thousand bucks in this sack.

We never could decide how much there was. We kept losing count.

So what Ellis really wants is the money, right? Right.

And to kill me.

Why? What's his motive? Is he jealous of Herb?

I don't know.

He just keeps saying he's going.

To kill me.

Okay, what's his address? Whose? Ellis'. I don't know. You don't know? Okay. Where does he work?

I don't know that either.

Okay.

What sort of work does he do when he's not out robbing banks?

Well, he works on cars.

He's a mechanic?

Yeah.

In Long Beach?

Yeah.

And you say he's dark, heavy set, he's 34? Yeah. Hmm. And where did Gerard bite him?

Between the icebox and the door. He was trying to get away.

No, no, no, no, no. I mean, where on Ellis did Gerard bite him?

Oh, on his arm. Up here on the muscly part.

The bicep. Yeah, a mastiff could be tall enough to do that. Did he draw blood?

What?

The bite. Did it draw blood?

Oh, yeah.

Gerard didn't want to let him go until Ellis started kicking him. That's why Gerard doesn't like him.

Okay, Nora, it's a long shot, but a dog like Gerard isn't your everyday common mutt. Maybe I can find him, but meantime, you watch yourself. How are you going to keep Ellis from getting to you?

I don't know.

Look, take some of that dough and you buy yourself a good strong lock and a burglar... No, no, no, no. That's the wrong advice. What you should do is turn the money over to the police and turn yourself in. Tell them what you told me. You're just a kid. They'll go easy on you, especially if you help them find Ellis. They'll stick someone in here to keep you safe until they get the guy. Now that's what you should do. Come on, I'll drive you downtown.

I can't do that, Mr.

Nile.

Why can't you?

If I did that, Ellis would kill my parents.

I leave Nora's walk-up promising that I'll hunt for her dog. But what I really want to find is her husband. If Nora's only half right, the guy's got to be a monster. But before I do anything else, I head for the downtown public library for a little research.

Harry Nile, as I live and breathe.

Excuse me for shouting.

You're not shouting, Murphy.

I'm a librarian.

This is a librarian's shout.

Where have you been? Oh, I'm so glad to see you. Are you still a private eye?

Are you married? I'm glad to see you, too, Murphy. And I've been busy. And yes and no.

Yes and no?

Yes, I'm still a private eye. No, I'm not married. Look, Murphy, do me a favor. I got a client, a girl. She says she and a guy stuck up a bank last year sometime, and I need to check the L.A.

Papers.

They're downstairs in the stacks.

Yeah, I know.

That's how we met, remember? In the stacks?

I remember, Murphy.

And then we went out to Chiliville and we drove down to the beach. Oh, it was a wonderful date.

It wasn't a date. I was on a case. You went along.

Well, it was a date to me.

Come on, Murph. You want to help me check the papers?

Oh, nothing yet.

Nah, me neither.

Well, there's a faster way.

Oh, what do you mean?

Well, to find out about the bank robbery.

I know. You check the police blotter. You see, I'm not exactly welcome down at headquarters. Cops don't take too kindly to ex-cops who go private. Oh, I know the records of public property.

No, no, no.

That's not what I meant.

Huh?

There's a monthly report called the California State Bank Bulletin. We have them going back ten years.

Why the heck didn't you tell me that before?

Well, you wanted to come down in the newspaper files. And you're the detectives. Besides, I like being down here with you.

Yeah, it's a romantic spot, all right. 40-watt bulb in the ceiling every 20 feet and all the dust you can breathe. Murphy runs upstairs and comes back with an armload of these bank bulletins.

Here, you take January through June and I'll take July through December.

Okay.

Is she pretty?

Huh?

Is she a pretty girl?

Who's that?

The stick-up girl.

No. No, as a matter of fact.

Well, then why are you working for a criminal anyway?

Oh, don't get technical.

Are you on the side of the law, Harry?

Sure, I'm on the side of the law. I told her I thought she ought to turn herself in. I even offered to drive her down to headquarters.

So, why did she hire you?

To find her dog.

Well, then why are you checking up on her?

She wants her dog back because she's going to be killed. The dog is for protection. I figure if she's telling the truth, she needs me to find the guy who wants to kill her more than she needs me to find her dog. And I don't know a better place to start than the bank robbery they both committed.

Harry.

What?

Listen to this.

Okay.

August 3rd, Mission Bank robbed by youth. Teenage suspect displayed a pistol and, uh-uh, no, uh-uh, forget it, it was a boy.

Let me see that. The suspect handed a note demanding cash to the teller. Bank employees described the robber as an adolescent male, 15 or 16 years old, so-and-so-and-so. Suspect escaped into a waiting car driven by a swarthy older companion. The car, which had been stolen, was later found abandoned. A teenage boy and a swarthy older companion. So? Well, Nora's got short hair. She's got a bunch of freckles, kind of a plain sort of face. You put her in men's clothes, she'd look like a boy.

You think it was her?

Well, it could have been. And the swarthy older companion could have been her husband. Oh.

Well, you didn't say she was married.

Well, she's not anymore.

Oh, okay. Well, so now what are you going to do?

Well, I'm going to try to locate Ellis Clapper, the husband. Where is this mission bank?

Rosemead Boulevard in El Monte. Harry? Harry, where are you going?

Well, certainly I remember the holdup. You never forget things like that.

Well, any chance the kid with the gun could have been a girl?

No, I don't think so. To tell you the truth, it never occurred to me.

Well, what kind of voice did the holdup guy have?

You know, I don't think he ever spoke.

Did you get a look at the guy driving the getaway car?

Black-haired man, I think.

And that's all?

Well, I couldn't see them too well with those narrow windows and all.

Oh, what do you mean?

The car.

It was one.

Of those new Hudsons. Difficult to see inside.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

So low to the ground.

Mm-hmm.

You think they'll ever catch this young man who did it?

Well, you never know.

Did you find my dog, Mr.

Nile?

No, not yet, Nora.

Then what do you want?

Well.

I want you to come with me to the police and tell them what you know about the bank robbery.

I can't do that.

Look, these bills you have in that bag may be marked. You try to spend them, they could incriminate you.

What does that mean?

Well, it means the cops are going to catch you sooner or later. Believe me, it's going to be a lot easier on you if you go to them and give yourself up now. Tell them you were conned into the job by your husband. You see, Nora, I've done some checking. The bank job you pulled was in El Monte last August, right? You went in the bank dressed like a boy while Ellis waited outside in the car, right?

All I wanted was for you to get my dog back.

It's not as simple as that. You want your dog to keep Ellis from killing you. I'm telling you, a dog isn't going to keep him from killing you. We have to find Ellis. I'm only one man. You need the police department to hunt him down. Now let me drive you downtown.

I can't do that.

They'll believe you if you tell them Ellis conned you into the bank job.

But he didn't. It was my idea.

The bank job was your idea?

Yeah.

I talked him into helping me. I even got him the car.

The getaway car, the Hudson?

Yeah.

I don't believe it.

I did.

He didn't even have a gun. So I had to get one.

I got this one.

Nora!

And it really shoots, too.

If you have that cannon right by your bed, why are you worried about your dog protecting you from Clapper?

Because I can't shoot it. And he knows it.

You said it really shoots.

Oh, it does.

But I couldn't shoot anything with it.

I tried.

It jerked right out of my hand.

Ah.

My dad tried to teach me to shoot jackrabbits out in the desert.

He loves guns. Will you get Gerard back?

Yeah, I'll try, but what I'm going to do first is try to find Clapper. You said he lives in Long Beach and he's a mechanic. Is there anything, is there anything at all that you haven't told me that would help me locate him? Sure you don't have a snapshot of him anywhere?

No.

Your wedding, where were you married?

In Santa Maria.

Is there any kind of a wedding picture?

No.

Okay.

Your folks.

You say they annulled the marriage?

Yeah.

Where do they live?

29 Palms.

Why?

You never know. They might be able to help.

I don't think so.

What are their names? I need their names, their address, a phone or something.

I don't think you should get them involved.

Honey, if there's a guy running around loose who's threatening to kill you, I'll get anybody involved. Come on. Name, address, phone number. Nora, I can get it without you.

Will it help you get my dog back?

It'll... Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, sure.

Well, it's Emory White.

Mr. and Mrs.

Emory White. Box 8, 29 Palms.

No street address.

They live in a trailer house.

Ah.

And they don't have a phone.

I see. Well, I hear the desert is nice and warm this time of year. I'd have my head examined.

Why?

Taking you with me.

Hey, it's a long drive out into the desert, and you can always use another pair of eyes and ears. All the detectives have partners under cases. Don't you know that?

Murphy, those are make-believe stories in novels. You read too much. That's your trouble.

That's right. I read too much, and I don't have enough real-life adventures.

Oh, look.

There's a sign. 29 Palms.

Yeah. Look at all the trailer parks. How am I going to find the one Emery White lives in?

Well, you might try the postmaster.

Hey, where'd you get that thought?

From Dashiell Hammett.

Do I know him?

Probably not. Well, anyway, there's the post office there on the left.

Afternoon, folks. Welcome to 29 Pounds. Hot enough for you?

Yeah, thanks. You're the postmaster?

That's me.

Well, listen, I'm looking for Emery White and his wife. They live in a trailer somewhere around here.

Sorry, I can't help you.

How's that?

Not allowed to give directions.

Well, look, we drove all the way down from L.A.

Well, I'm often sorry. People live out in the desert because they don't want to be bothered. Emory and Ellen, they're entitled to their privacy.

Oh, Harry, it was Mama's last request that we tell Uncle Emory and Aunt Ellen our good news. Well, you see, sir, on a very deathbed, Mama converted. After all these years, and she made us promise to tell Uncle Em and Aunt Ellen. And all we were trying to do was fulfill my poor Mama's dying request.

Well, now, dang it, damn it!

Excuse the language, sorry, but you put me in a heck of a position.

No, no, no, that's all right, we understand. I suppose we could try to write them another letter, but they never answer. They don't realize that Mama wanted to end the family feud. Well, you do have your rules. We understand, don't we, Harry?

Huh? Yeah, yeah.

Oh, well, what the.

Mile and a half east, then a quarter mile south on the shelf road. It's a brown and white trailer with a cyclone fence around it.

A mile and a half. Brown and white. Hey, thank you. Thanks a lot.

Oh, my bless you, sir. You'll never know what this will mean to my little old mama in heaven.

Well, I'm only too glad to be of service. You folks take care now.

Why, you little scoundrel. Murphy, I'm surprised at you.

A mile and a half east, a quarter mile south on the shelf road.

Where did you come up with a scam like that?

Oh, partly Dos Passos, partly Steinbeck, and partly Murphy.

Well, the directions are pretty good. There's the brown and white trailer.

With a wire fence around it.

And.

Hmm....

If I were to ask you, what kind of dog would you say that is?

Oh, hey, I know. It's a mastiff.

Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say.

Oh, Harry, he looks pretty angry.

Well, you stay in the car, okay?

Yeah, I will. But, Harry, be careful.

Nice boy.

Nice doggie.

Harry, stop it.

Nice doggie. Stop it. Something I can do for you, mister? Uh, yeah. You're Mr. White?

That's right.

I'm a private investigator. I'm working for your daughter. I need to talk to you for a couple of minutes.

My daughter doesn't need a private investigator.

Well, she feels she does. Her safety's involved.

Mr.

White, I think we really ought to talk.

Well, all right. You can start by telling me who you are.

Well, my name's Nile. Harry Nile. Nora hired me to find her dog, and... I bet I just did. You called your dog Jerry. Is that short for Gerard?

Never mind the dog. What about my daughter's safety?

Well, she wants her dog back to protect her from Ellis Clapper. She says he's threatening to kill her. That's the craziest thing I ever heard. Now, get down, boy.

Maybe you didn't know it, mister, but, well, Nora isn't quite all there.

What's that supposed to mean?

You know what I'm talking about. You've met her. You know she's a little different. She dreams up fantasies, fantastic notions. Yeah, like the dog. Sure, like the dog. She doesn't own a dog. Jerry here is ours, always has been. Raised him from a pup, didn't I, boy? Okay, well, let me check out something else. Did you ever annul a marriage between Nora and this Ellis Clapper? Yes, yes, we did.

It's all on the legal record. Because of Nora's trouble... The marriage was doomed from the start. She was not only too young she was well mentally unstable. The thought of her producing offspring was.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I see. Well, what kind of guy is Ellis Clapper? Ellis?

Oh, he's all right. We don't have anything against the boy. You know him pretty well, do you? I'd say so, yes. Of course, when we annulled the marriage, that didn't make us any too popular with him, but I think he understood. He was too old for her. Been in and out of the army. Experienced in life. You know what I mean.

No reason you can think of that he'd threaten to harm her? Who, Ellis?

Not in your life. Is that what Nora told you?

Something like that.

Poor little Nora.

She lives in a world all her own.

Yeah, it looks like it. Well, listen, I'm real sorry to have bothered you, Mr.

White.

Oh, think nothing of it. Wasn't the first time. Won't be the last.

Oh, say, come on down, boy. You should get her a gun that she can handle. That. 45 is a big piece for a little gal like Nora.

You're being awfully quiet, Harry.

Oh, I'm thinking.

About Mr.

White?

Yeah, Mr.

White and his dog and a couple of other things that don't make a lot of sense to me right now.

Such as?

Well, I know his father would give her a gun like a. 45 caliber automatic if he knows she's not all there. That's what he said. She's mentally unstable. Why would he let her have a gun at all?

You know, that does seem strange, doesn't it?

Yeah, and a couple of other little items back there, too.

Like what?

Well, how old would you say their trailer is?

Gosh, I don't know.

Why? Ah, nothing.

Harry, don't be evasive.

Hey, I've got a hat full of junk here, and I'm trying to make something out of it. And I'm not coming up with anything. Maybe I should have listened to my old man and cut hair for a living.

Your father was a barber?

He still is.

Back east?

Yes, outside of Chicago. 46 years he's been cutting hair. Used to tell me there were only two trades in the world, cutting hair and police work. He said hair always grows and there'd always be crime.

Well, then why did you become a cop instead of a barber?

Because I saw what he had to do to survive. First day of the month, every month, a little guy came around to the shop and my pop would go to the cash register and hand him ten bucks right out of the till. That's when a haircut was 35 cents.

Why'd you do that?

It's a payoff. Protection. South side of Chicago, the ward we lived in, there was a racket boss. You want to run a business in his ward, you pay.

That's terrible.

I couldn't see myself cutting hair, sweeping up, giving that creep protection money, so I went on the force. till I found out that everyone in my squad, from the lieutenant right on down, was doing the same thing as the little creep.

Harry?

Yeah?

I'm glad you didn't become a barber.

It's late when we finally roll back into L.A., and I drop Murphy at her place. Then I head out Victory Boulevard in hopes that Nora will still be up and waiting to answer a few questions.

Who is it?

It's Harry Nile.

How do I know it's you?

Come on, Nora.

Did you find Gerard?

Yeah, I think I did. Really?

Where is he?

Well, I didn't bring him with me. Come on, let me in. I want to talk with you.

Sure.

Now listen, I want you to think about this really hard, Nora. Was Gerard your dog or your folks?

Mine. Why?

Well, is it possible that you were a little... I don't know, confused. No. Nora, I've just been down to 29 Palms talking with your dad.

You had no right to talk to him.

And guess what? There's a big fawn-colored mastiff in his yard.

You weren't supposed to talk to him.

Well, your dad called him Jerry. Could that be a nickname for Gerard?

I don't believe you. Why would he steal my dog?

Nora, listen. Your dad said he raised the dog from a puppy. You told me Gerard's been living here for a year. Isn't that what you said?

It's true.

Where'd you get Gerard?

I bought him.

Where?

A pet store.

Which one?

I don't know. It's about a mile down the street.

Right down here on Victory.

Yes.

I'm mad at you for seeing my folks.

Well, forget about that for now, Nora. Now listen, you're sure about the pet store?

Sure, I'm sure. I paid the man $ 45 for him.

Listen, Nora, let me borrow that snapshot. You showed me the one with you and Herb and Gerard, and I'll bring it back tomorrow.

Promise?

I promise. Nine o'clock the next morning, I walk into the only pet shop on Victory Boulevard.

I help you with something?

Yeah. About a year ago, a friend of mine bought a nice big dog in your store. I'd sure like to get one like hers, only I have to be sure that this is the right place.

Well, what kind of dog was it?

I don't know what you call it. I've got a picture of it right here. Let's have a look.

Oh, sure, the Mastiff. I sold that dog myself.

Yeah, there's a young lady here in the picture.

You have another date of the sale?

I suppose I could look it up.

Why do you need that? I'm certain I sold the animal. Do me a favor. Look it up.

Well, take me a.

Minute. You sell many mastiffs?

No, this is the first one I ever had.

They're not a very common breed.

Ah, here we are. Your friend's name is Nora Clapper?

Yeah, right.

Okay, here it is right here.

Dated August 4th.

One three-year-old male mastiff named Gerard.

Thanks a million. Well, what about it?

You want me to find you one like that one?

I'll let you know. Sure, August 3rd. Nora holds up the bank. The next day, she buys herself a big watchdog to help guard the loot. That much checks out. But still, I have to find out why her ex-husband is threatening to kill her and why her father lied about the dog. And something tells me I haven't much time left to find out. I drive down to Long Beach, park myself in a cafe with a payphone, talk the cashier into changing a $ 5 bill into nickels, grab the phone book, and start the boring part of my job.

After finding nobody named Clapper in the directory, I turn to the yellow pages under car repairs, and I start right off the top with Aaron's Super Service. Oh, listen, I was wondering if you happen to have a mechanic named Clapper in your shop.

No, huh?

Yeah, no, okay, thanks. So much for that one. Only 39 more to go.

Uh, yeah, hello?

Uh, yeah, hi, I'm trying to find a mechanic named Ellis Clapper.

No, huh?

No, no, no, okay. Okay, thanks. Only 38 left to go. Yeah, hi there. Listen, you wouldn't happen to have a guy working there named Clapper. Ellis Clapper? Yeah? Well, look, I'm an old customer of his, and I've been looking all over for him. I've got some car problems, and I'll be in to see him one of these days.

Thanks.

Yeah, thanks a lot. I find the garage where Clapper works. It's a little Gilmore gas station with a two-bay shop behind. The proprietor pumps gas, and while he puts five gallons in my car, I wander into the garage. There's a husky character in blue overalls. He's wrestling the brakes off the back of a Buick. Uh, hey, you wouldn't happen to be Ellis Clapper, would you?

Yeah, that's my name.

Why, do I know you? Uh, you gonna be long on that job?

Well, I got to put in new linings all around, service the wheel cylinders.

Good hour, hour and a half. Why? Uh, you know someone named Nora? All right, what is this? Do you know her? I know a lot of people. What's it to you? Well, let me spell it out for you, Clapper. You're in trouble. Who said? The Mission Bank. Third of August last year. Ring any bells? What are you talking about? Well, grand larceny. Accessory to armed robbery. 10 to 20 in San Quentin. Of course, with good behavior, you might take it out to nine, but murder, that's another thing. Murder. Look, you don't know what you're talking about. That's the gas chamber, Clapper.

That's what you're playing around with, the gas chamber. You scared Nora, and she talked. Look, I want a lawyer. Yeah, sure. Hey, I didn't see any badge. You want to see a badge? I'm going to take you where there's plenty of badges. Now, look, Nora's crazy. Everybody knows that.

She's nuts.

I was married to her. I ought to know. I don't know what she might have told you, but you can't believe anything she says. She says you tried to kill her. That's crazy. She says you attacked her.

She's nuts.

Let's find out. Hey, watch what you're doing. You tore my overalls.

Uh-huh.

Hey, that's quite a scar. Gerard really sank his teeth into you, didn't he?

Now listen, it's not like you think.

None of this. It wasn't my idea. How bad do you want to go to jail? I don't want to go to jail. What are you talking about? There's only one way you're going to keep out of Quentin. You know what it is? You keep away from Nora. You better pray for her good health, Clapper, because if anything happens to Nora, we'll know who to come get. Listen, you don't know half the story. You get me, Clapper?

Nora stays healthy. I walk out of the garage, pay for the gas, and head back to Nora's little walk-up. Feeling pretty good. Now, if I can just convince her to go to the police with her story and her paper bag full of money, I figure with her mental condition, they'll give her a suspended sentence and remand her to the custody of her parents, and she'll live a long, peaceful life out on the desert where she'll come to no harm. But I'm wrong. It's already the heat of the day, and I see Herb has arrived with a couple of bottles of buttermilk, and they're souring in the sun outside her door. So I knock. Nora! Hey, Nora, it's Harry Niles. And the door isn't locked.

Ah. Oh, boy.

Operator, get me the police. I want to report... A killing.

You touched nothing?

The phone, that's it.

Uh, how did you know her?

Well, she was a client. She hired me to find her dog.

Jeez, Harry, I didn't know times were so tough.

It was her watchdog, Dutcher. She was afraid of being killed.

Killed by who?

Her former husband. But I just came from talking with him. He's a mechanic down in Long Beach.

Yeah.

Uh, hey, Doc, time of death? Were you with him then?

Yeah, couldn't have been him.

We could be looking at a suicide.

Not in a million years.

Why do you say that?

Well, look where the gun is. On the bed beside her, it's a.

45.

She told me herself it had too much kick for her. She couldn't hold it. If she'd shot herself, that thing'd be way over in the corner somewhere.

Well, we'll dust it. But I won't rule out suicide. The head wound could have been self-inflicted.

Listen, you better pick up the husband anyway. His name is Ellis Clapper. I'll get you his address. And a milkman named, um, I don't know, Herb. Yeah, Herb something. Friend of hers.

Why would he do it?

Jealousy? I don't know. She called him just a friend. Hey, listen, Lieutenant, something else.

Yeah?

There was a bag of money here, a brown paper bag full of money. While I was waiting for you, I looked for it. It's gone.

No, I thought you said you didn't touch anything.

I just looked where she stashed it, under the bed. It's not there.

How do you know about this bag of money?

She showed it to me the other day. When I first met her, she wanted to prove that she could afford me. Dutcher, the money was hot.

What?

There was over $ 1, 000. She robbed a bank.

Now, say, just what the devil do we have here? She robbed what bank?

The Mission Bank in El Monte, last August. I tried to get her to turn herself in.

How long you known about this?

Two days.

You knew about it for two days and you didn't report it? Listen, if you'd reported it, this girl would still be alive.

Yeah, I know.

All right, there goes your license, Harry.

I was working on her. I was trying to get her to come forward voluntarily. She wasn't quite right in the head. I was trying to be gentle.

Save it for the hearing examiner.

Ah, Dutch.

I'm holding you as a material witness, Harry.

Now, you can stay here until I wrap up the investigation, or you can go on downtown with one of the uniforms. But I've had it with your version of law enforcement.

Dutch, there's some loose ends I think ought to be looked at.

From now on, Harry, I'll do the looking. You're out of business.

Dutcher's famous for going off half-cocked. The only thing is, he's got the badge on his side, so he lifts my ticket right there in Nora's sad little apartment. I spot her black and white cat cowering on the upper shelf of her closet, and I get Dutcher's permission to take the poor thing home, now that it's an orphan.

And I have to promise Dutcher to stay in town. Now, there's a promise I'm almost sure I'm going to break. But before anything else, I drive down to the main library for some help from Murphy.

Of course I'll help you. I'm prepared to put the entire resources of the Dewey Desmo system at your disposal. What do you need?

A little less levity, for starters. Listen, my client's just been killed.

Oh, Harry.

Oh, I'm so sorry. You mean the girl?

Nora, yeah. Murphy, those bank reports... The bulletins, yes. Well, I'd like to look at the rest of them from last year.

Well, sure.

Why?

Well, I want to see if they print the size of the loss in bank robberies.

Well, they do. It's standard procedure. When there's been a robbery, the bank examiner comes in and he does an audit to verify how much money has been stolen. They usually do it within 30 days of the robbery.

So I want to look at the September or October bulletin. And something else. Does the library have the annual shareholders' reports from banks, like the Mission Bank?

Some of them, but not all. Oh, I'll look for that, too. I'll be right back. Harry, what's that under your coat?

Huh?

Oh, this.

It's a cat.

You can't bring a.

Cat into the library. Besides....

I'm allergic to cats.

Oh, I'm sorry. It belonged to Nora. I didn't know what the heck to do with her. Oh, the poor little thing.

I'll be right back, Harry.

You feeling any better?

I love cats. But I'm so allergic to them.

Well, maybe I better take you to the pound when we get back to L.A.

Well, you do no such thing. Oh, look, Cater. Sleep by the seat between us.

Yeah, but how's your eyes and nose?

Ruddig. But as long as the Kleedax holds out, I'm okay. How are you doing?

Well, I'm a little tense, if you want to know the truth.

Yeah, I didn't know you knew the meaning of the word.

Oh, yeah, I know the meaning of the word. I'm breaking my orders from Dutcher by leaving town. I'm strictly illegal going to Nora's folks. I'm pretty likely to get mauled by a big, ugly dog. Other than that, I am relaxed.

We're coming to 29 Pops.

Yeah, now you remember what I told you to do, right?

Oh, perfect.

You made such an impression on that postmaster, I'm counting on you.

Harry, have I ever let you down?

No, Murphy, you haven't.

Well, look, there's the post office.

I leave Murphy off, and I drive down the main stem toward the branch road, and I turn left. Pretty quick, I'm at the gate to the fence around Emery White's trailer. And the welcoming committee is waiting to see me. Oh, cute cherry. Nice, Gerard. Here, see the kitty, Gerard? Gerard, huh? See the kitty?

Go, kitty, scram.

Come on, get out of here. Well, that part of it worked anyway. Now, I have to take a look out back.

Uh-huh.

Oh, you're back, huh?

Oh, Harry Nile.

Yes, I remember.

I hope you'll forgive me. I was careless. I left your gate open. Your dog took off.

I was careless of you. What brings you back to the desert, Mr.

Nile?

Well, I have some bad news, I'm afraid, Mr.

White. Not about Nora, I hope?

Yes, about Nora.

Here, step outside. I don't want my wife to hear whatever it is you have to say.

The trailer is so small, there's no privacy. Well, I suppose you weren't planning to stay in the trailer for long.

Well, we thought about building a house somewhere. Look, uh, What's your bad news?

Nora is dead.

Dead?

Yes.

You can't be serious. I'm very serious. She was shot.

Oh, my poor little girl.

I've been fearing it, Mr.

Nile.

Fearing she was so mixed up she'd take her own life.

I'm afraid it wasn't suicide, Mr.

White.

It was murder.

Murder?

Ellis.

That blasted Ellis Clapper.

So he did it. I don't think so.

Of course it was him. You said so yourself. You came out here and told me he threatened to kill her.

That's right. And that would have made a tidy, open, and shut case, except for one thing. I was with him at his job during the time that Nora was killed. I.

Oh, this is too much for me, Mr.

Nile.

I can't bear it.

Well, maybe I should just go away and tell the sheriff what I came to tell you.

To tell me about Nora?

Why the sheriff? No, I mean the rest of it. See, I found myself wondering why Nora held up a bank.

What in the world are you saying?

That your daughter took your gun, the gun that you bought her, had her husband drive your car, the maroon Hudson right there in your carport, to the bank that you owned, that you owned, and dressed up like a boy, she held it up and got about $ 2, 500 in the robbery.

This is preposterous.

Why would Nora do a thing like that? Because you told her to. It was a condition of her being allowed out of your home and into a life of her own. You do own the Mission Bank, don't you?

I do not.

But you did, until you sold your interest in it two months after the robbery. It's all in the public record in the L.A. library.

It was too much for us. Yes, there was a robbery. But where you got that $ 2, 500 figure, I don't know. The bandit got into the vault and took much more than that.

Yeah, the California State Bank bulletin says the audit showed the bank was a quarter of a million dollars short. Quite a haul.

My wife and I couldn't bear up under the strain. We loved that bank. We put everything we had into it. And withdrew it. On August 3rd.

You had Nora hold up your bank so there wouldn't be any suspicions when the examiners found a quarter of a million dollars of depositors' funds missing. They'd chalk it up to a clever bandit.

When it was you, Mr.

White, who embezzled it over the course.

Of a year.

I don't have to stand here and listen to that garbage.

So you let Nora keep the $ 2, 500 she stole. But she didn't feel like splitting it with Ellis, and Ellis threatened to kill her for his share.

But you told me Clapper didn't do it. That's right, he didn't.

What?

You did. And I blame myself for tipping you off. You must have become concerned that Nora would give away your little indulgences with your depositor's money after I came out here yesterday. So you jumped into your Hudson, you drove into L.A., and you executed your own daughter.

There isn't a jury in California who'd believe a sick thing like that.

It's sick, all right. But it's true. I think Ellis Clapper will be only too happy to turn state's evidence and tell what his part in your little plan was, and then, if the coroner doesn't find any nitrate on Nora's gun hand, he might like to check out your hand. In fact, I'm going to suggest it to him.

You know, Mr. Nile, there's a class of human being I could never tolerate, and that's the class of human being who pries into understanding other people's business i can't abide that so i can't permit you to interfere with my plans any further you always pack that little pistol mr Only when I think I may come across a varmint.

Well, there's a car coming. Maybe you better wait till it goes by.

Well, gee whiz, what do you know?

It's got a red light on it and a star on the door.

Emery, put down that gun.

Put it down. Murphy, I told you to get the sheriff, not the postmaster.

Well, I'm the sheriff too, Mr.

Nile.

Your lady friend done just fine. Emery, I'm sorry to have to ask you to put that pistol down on the ground. Stick your hands up where I can put these handcuffs on you.

Boy, you timed it just right, Murphy.

Well, I think the postmaster-cum-sheriff said it best. A little ungrammatical, of course, but as he said, I'd done just fine.

The End.

Farewell to 29 Palms.

Harry?

Yeah?

About Nora's dog. Did it stray off, or was it stolen?

Ah, the Mastiffs. Well, Nora bought him to protect her money and her life. She figured she knew too much about her father's embezzlement, so the day after the bank job, she got the dog for protection, and she was right. Emery ordered Clapper to kill her or be exposed as an accessory to the bank robber, and he might have gotten away with it. Only I don't think his heart was in it, Otherwise, why would he have called Nora and warned her?

Okay, but who took the dog?

Oh, Nora's father, of course. He stole it. He took it out to his trailer in the desert.

How do you know all that?

Well, I got suspicious when I saw an old trailer and a brand new chain-link fence around it.

Harry?

Yeah?

Why would he go to the trouble of stealing your dog? Why didn't he just shoot it, too?

Good question, Murph. Maybe in his twisted mind, the dog deserved to live and his daughter didn't. I don't know. You'd have to ask him. Well, Father Murder's daughter made every paper for weeks. Emery White was convicted of first-degree murder and grand theft. Ellis Clapper gave the D.A. everything he knew of. He got off with a suspended sentence.

He's back fixing brakes. Murphy's back at the library, and I'm temporarily out of work. But something will turn up. Always does.

Hair of the Dog was written and directed by Jim French. and featured Phil Harper as Harry Nile, with Rose Coulter, Pat French, Meryl Mayo, Douglas Young, Dan Leach, Terry Rose, Don Riley, and yours truly, Jay Gree. Sound created by Stu Conway. This program was produced before a live audience in Seattle.

The Adventures of Harry Nile She looked like Blondie in the comic strip, all dressed up in a pink suit like a cherry sundae, a little white ruffle under her chin, white gloves and a white pillbox hat on her golden curls.

A dish. A merry dish.

So, can you help me, Mr.

Nile?

Oh, I've got to find my husband.

Well, a couple of things, Mrs. Nolan. You say he's been missing for five days. Why not call the police? Your taxes are paying for him.

Oh, no, never.

It might get in the paper. We're quiet people, Mr.

Nile.

I understand that, but they could throw out a dragnet. Me, I work alone.

Then you don't think you can find him?

I don't know. Oh, yeah. I have to ask a few questions, like his business.

Imports.

Imports and exports.

Successful? Well, I guess he is successful looking at this house.

Yes, Herbert does very well.

Any enemies that you know of?

Enemies?

Well, no, of course not.

What about your marriage?

What about it?

Well, is it solid? Do you think he might have decided to run away? Men do that, you know.

You don't know Herbert. He would never do a thing like that.

Never, ever.

Okay, okay. Had to ask.

Mr. Nile, I just know something terrible has happened to him. Five days without a word. You've got to find him.

Our man is seated on a settee that cost more than six months of his wages. Our man is aware that his shiny blue serge is contributing lint to the yellow velvet cushions, that his size twelve brogans are sorting the white plush carpet. But our man is a tradesman, a specialist, to be called on when troubles arise, and soon to be off on the scent of the chase, where shabby clothes and muddy shoes are part of the uniform of anonymity worn by Harry Niles.

Cynthia Nolan has everything it takes to get me interested. She's appealing, vulnerable, pretty, and she writes a nice check.

Here's your retainer.

Okay, now let's have a look at what you've collected here.

Well, I thought you'd want to see what he looks like.

Yeah, is this a recent picture?

Last summer. We went to Catalina. We had it taken. You can keep it.

Vital stats?

What?

Oh, height, weight.

Oh, six feet tall, about 170.

Any scars, distinguishing features?

No.

Personal habits? Does Herbert drink?

Just socially.

Carry a lot of cash on him?

Why, I don't think so. Not a great deal.

Doesn't carry a gun.

Of course not.

Hobbies?

Oh, he likes to play golf when he has the time.

If he was out of town, where would he like to hang out?

Pardon me?

Hang out. Spend time. Cocktail lounge? Maybe a movie?

Oh, I don't know.

I've never known Herbert to spend time, as you put it, on anything but work. And on his home, of course.

Any particular spot you know he's got friends or family? Out of town, I mean.

No.

Relatives?

They're all from back east, I believe.

Where back east?

New York.

Close relatives?

He has a brother. They're not close. We didn't get a card last Christmas. And his parents are both dead.

Okay. Now, let me see where he works. It's here in the house, you say?

In his study. I'm afraid this won't be of much help to you, though, Mr.

Nile.

Well, uh, how come?

He keeps his desk locked.

Well, let's have a look anyway. And, uh, you don't have a key?

I'm afraid not.

Well, no problem.

What are you doing?

I'm using a lockpick. There we go. Now, what's this?

I think it's his appointment book.

You mind if I take it?

Take it? Well, I suppose not.

Where does he keep his legal stuff? Tax papers and deeds and insurance, that kind of thing.

I really don't know.

Hmm.

Are you looking for something in particular?

Yeah, I'm looking for a ledger. Do you know if he's got one around here?

A ledger?

I'm not sure if I've ever seen one.

Well, it'd be a big book. This big. Probably have a green cover.

No.

If he has one, I haven't seen it.

Okay, well, I'm going to need to spend some time in this room. Is that okay with you?

Well, if you need to, certainly. Are you looking for clues?

Yeah, sure. And it may be some time. You got anything else that you have to do?

No.

Hey, wait a minute. I'll tell you what. Go take a look in your husband's closet and see if he can tell what clothes are missing.

But I already gave you a description of what he was wearing.

Yeah, I know, but he could have stashed a change of clothes somewhere. I know, I know. You don't think that he'd do that, but I gotta cover all the bases. Look for missing shoes, too. And luggage.

All right, I'll look. But I know my husband, Mr.

Nile.

He hasn't run away.

As you say.

Now I really start digging into the desk. The center drawer has pens and pencils and paper clips and maybe a dollar's worth of change, little odds and ends of paper. It's got a bunch of business cards, which I slip into my pocket, and here and there, gas station receipts, which I also take. And here's a supply of checks on two different banks. Oh, and here's a third. Herbert Noland isn't hurting for money. One drawer contains business stationery marked with his name. Herbert Nolan, import-export. A post office box and a phone number, same number as the house.

But so far, I don't find a customer list. Or an overseas source list.

Nothing's missing, Mr.

Nile. You sure? Yes. Do you do his laundry?

Yes, of course.

Why?

Oh, just routine. Now listen, I've taken some business cards and gas receipts out of his desk and his appointment book. I'm going to study them back at the office. Make a car that he drives?

It's a Packard Clipper.

What color?

Dark green.

License number?

Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't any idea.

Well, maybe it's on the gas receipts here.

I'm sorry not to know more about Herbert's business things.

He never liked to concern me with them.

Tell me something else, Mrs. Nolan. How come you're dressed to go out? The gloves, the hat.

Oh, I'd just been out.

I just got back before you came. I haven't even thought of taking them off. I guess I'm so distracted, you know.

Yeah, sure. Where's your car?

My car?

Why, I haven't got a car. I don't drive. A friend took me shopping, and she just left before you came.

Huh. Well, okay, I'm on my way. I'll be in touch.

Oh, yes, please, let me know.

You can count on it, Mrs. Nolan, and try not to worry. I take Nolan's stuff back to my place and start going through the appointment book first. There are 30, maybe 40 names in it. Some are just nicknames, like Scotty and Julie and Addie. Could be girlfriends, huh? Could be old buddies from school or the army. Only maybe not, because after some of these names, he's written Slob. I count 12 names with Slob written after them. Puzzles me.

The business cards aren't much help. A plumber, a druggist, a lawyer, a guy from a shipping company, another one from the Southern Pacific Railway. All pretty normal for a guy in the import-export business. to the gas station receipts and i put in a call yeah i'm trying to track down any recent purchases on one of your credit cards we think it could have been stolen it's card number a 330-412-479 can you give that one a check for me thanks i'll wait for your call And while I wait for the oil company to call back, I check with the highway patrol to see if there's been a wreck involving a Packard Clipper in the last five days.

And finally, I sit down with a copy of the Times and the Herald Express and go through them.

Carefully.

Nope.

Nothing. Nile Investigations.

Yeah.

Okay, let me write this down. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Okay.

Any other one? Okay, I got you. Thanks. No, no, no, no, no. Don't cancel the card. Not just yet. I'll let you know, okay? That's kind of interesting. Somebody signing Herbert Norton's name charged a tank of gas in Santa Barbara on Monday and in San Leandro on Wednesday. Now, this is Friday, so Nolan, or someone with his credit card, is driving up the coast.

Or was. Harry Nile Investigations? Oh, yeah. What have you got?

Uh-huh.

Okay, well, thanks for your trouble. No accident involving a car like Nolan's. Well, I've just cut way down on the flock of wild geese I have to chase. Our man may be alive and well in Northern California. What I decide to do next is the boring and expensive part of this business. I start calling every motel around San Leandro, and there's a bunch of them. San Lorenzo, Alameda, not to mention the cities of Oakland and Berkeley. I don't waste my time on the little joints. Herbert Nolan would go first class. It takes hours, and I can't wait to see the phone bill, but I turn up exactly nothing. Of course, if Nolan's running, he won't register in his own name, so I ask each place to check on anyone who registers in a Packard, but still

no tally. Not many folks drive such an expensive buggy. So, this leaves me with one more play to make. I call Cynthia Nolan and get invited over again.

You have something to tell me, Mr.

Nile.

Yeah, some good news. Your husband is alive. Or was. Apparently, as of the day before yesterday, on Wednesday, he bought a tank full of gas in San Leandro.

San Leandro? Where exactly is that?

North of here. Just about on San Francisco Bay.

What on earth would he be doing up there?

I was hoping you could tell me.

No, I have no idea. Well, I suppose it has to do with his business.

Mrs.

Nolan, nothing so far looks suspicious. No evidence of foul play. Isn't it possible he might have left a note for you somewhere that you haven't seen? You know, a note saying he's been called out of town and not to worry?

Well, I suppose that's possible. But why wouldn't he have called from wherever he was going to say he's all right?

You got me. Tell you what, let's have a look in your bedroom. Maybe he left a note on your dressing table. Oh, hey, I've got an idea. What about your purse?

My purse?

Yeah, sure. A woman goes into her purse 50 times a day, right? Maybe he tucked a little note in there. Come on, where's your purse?

Well, I have it over here, but I hardly think he'd leave a note there. I mean, he could put a note anywhere in the house where I could easily.

Yeah, I know. Okay, empty it right out here, right here on the dining room table.

Well, really, I don't want.

Hey, come on, you never know. Come on, I'll help.

Oh, well, this is embarrassing.

It's all right.

I should clean it out more often, I guess.

No, no, no, no. Forget it. Now, come on. Let's have a look. I see hanky, compact, perfume.

Really, Mr.

Nile, I'm not in the habit of displaying what I carry in my purse.

Relax, Mrs. Nolan. Lipstick, another lipstick, a bunch of bobby pins, keys.

Yes, house keys.

And car keys.

Oh, yes.

Herbert insisted I carry a spare set of car keys. But since I don't drive, I forget I have them.

Ah.

Well, look in all the little pockets of your purse. See if there's a note in any of them. You know, some couples I've heard about will tuck little love notes into each other's purses or in their pockets or in their shoes.

Well, Herbert doesn't ever do that. I'm afraid there's nothing in my purse that would help you at all, Mr.

Nile.

A woman's handbag is sacred.

An amazing.

And wonderful thing. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're right. Nothing in there to help us, though. Say, is it okay if I use your bathroom?

Certainly.

Through that door to the hall and then first.

Door on your left.

All right, I got you. I'll be back in a couple of minutes.

Would you like some coffee or tea?

Oh, yeah, coffee would be swell.

Fine, I'll make a fresh pot.

But I don't go into the bathroom. Instead, I head down the hall to Cynthia's bedroom because there was one item that wasn't in her handbag that puzzles me. The door to the bedroom is open, and I step in. Need is a pin. Nothing in the dresser but a hand mirror and a brush and a comb set. Nothing on her dressing table but cosmetics. One drawer after another. Nothing.

Just hankies and scarves and jewelry boxes. But I don't care to get caught in here, so I go past the job, I flush the toilet, and I solder back into the living room. Say, Mrs. Nolan.

Yes?

Let me ask you about something your husband wrote in his appointment book.

What did he write?

Well, after several names of people, he wrote slob.

He did?

Yeah.

There's a guy named Scotty and someone else called Addie and Julie. Do you know any of those people?

No, but Herbert has many friends I've never.

Met, I'm sure.

Friends he'd call slobs?

Well, he may have been somewhat opinionated.

Yeah, well, it looks like it.

The coffee will be ready in a minute. Shall we go back into the living room?

We have our coffee, and I leave without finding what I wanted to find. But after she closes the front door, I take a quick peek down the driveway. There stands a two-car garage, both doors open, no car in sight. What did I expect? At this stage of the game, I don't know. But the next morning, I fire up Tondaleo and head north with my fingers crossed that Herbert Nolan hasn't driven on beyond his last stop in San Leandro, and that my old pre-war coupe will get me there at high speed. Nightfall. I've driven since early morning. And my nerves are twanging from the gallon of coffee I've consumed to stay awake. But I haul into San Leandro and locate the gas station where Nolan, or whoever was using his credit card, filled his tank on Wednesday. I, uh,

don't suppose you see too many dark green Packard Clippers in here, huh? Not too many.

Why?

Well, I'm looking for a guy who may have bought gas from you here on Wednesday. He was driving a dark green Clipper. Well, here, let me show you a picture of him. Well, let's see that.

Yeah, that was the guy.

You sure?

Yeah, yeah, pretty sure. Is he a crook? No, no, no, no. He's running away from his wife. Was he alone? Do you remember? No, no, she was with him.

She?

Who do you mean? That gal there in the photo you showed me. Let me see it again. Yep, that's her. Are you sure?

Oh, yeah.

Cute.

You know, I said when they pulled away, that gal looks a little like Blondie. Don't she? A little? The guy could have been wrong. But if he's right, it makes no sense. If Cynthia Nolan has been with her husband up here in San Leandro on Wednesday, why would she hire me on Friday morning and say that he'd been missing all week? It makes no sense. My head is spinning. After the long drive, all I want is a hot shower and some dinner and a bed. I check into a motel, I take a shower, I find a cafe, and I head for the feathers. But I don't quite make it. Just outside my motel cabin door...

Hold it right there! Huh? What do you want?

What's your name?

Who wants to know?

George Coleman, San Leandro Police.

Police? That's right.

I'd like to ask you a couple of questions.

Sure, sure, sure. The name's Nile, Harry Nile.

Go inside your room?

Sure.

You're interested in a Herbert Nolan?

Yeah.

So am I.

That's so.

When did you last see him?

I've never seen him. I'm looking for him. Oh?

Well, I might be able to help you if you help me.

Let's have another look at that ID. It was kind of dark outside.

Anything you say.

Satisfied? Oh, yeah. I'm a private detective out of Los Angeles.

Why were you looking for Nolan?

Well, his wife was concerned about him. She said he left home Monday and hasn't been home since, so Friday she called me.

How'd you know he'd come up here?

Gas station charge record.

Oh, yeah.

Ansel, over at the gas station, who was calling me.

Uh-huh.

Well, you said you might be able to help me find him. That's right. Well, where is he?

In the morgue.

Shot.

Holy smoke.

Thought maybe you could tell me a little about some of his friends.

Well, where was he when he was shot?

In his office.

His office? I thought his office was at his home down in L.A.

Well, he had one here, too. At the San Leandro Orchid Brokers, they call it.

Orchid Brokers? His wife said he was in the import-export business.

Well, things are sometimes not what they seem, Mr.

Nile.

Just like the San Leandro Orchid Brokers... There wasn't an orchid in the joint. Just a few files, a very frightened secretary, and a dead body. Maybe you could fill me in on what else you've turned up about the late Mr.

Nolan.

You know more about him than I do. I didn't know where he'd gone. I didn't know he was connected with. What's that office called again?

The San Leandro Orchid Brokers?

Sure. S-L-O-B. Slob. So that's what he meant.

You want to tell me what you're talking about?

Sure. Hey, look. Come on. Look at this. This is Nolan's appointment book.

Where'd you get a hold of that?

His wife gave it to me. Look, here are a bunch of names. Nicknames with Slob written after them.

May I have a look at that?

Sure. Okay, okay, okay. What's the gag? What's so funny?

Mr.

Nile, this little book identifies a good share of the organized crime figures I've been hunting for over a year now.

It does?

The San Leandro Orchid Brokers was a front for a dope smuggling operation and a way to launder the money coming into the country. This little black book is what we were after.

But who do you think killed Nolan?

Now, from the way he was killed, I'd say it was one of the Dons. Maybe he was holding out, skimming, any number of motives. But the killing was done execution style. He was on his knees. The shots were done at close range, and then his body was just left in his office. Secretary came to work and found him.

When? Wednesday. Wednesday. Why? Ah, nothing.

Mr.

Nile, it wouldn't be wise to hold.

Out on me.

Look, Coleman, the second I know anything, you will know it. But of course I was holding out on him. I could have told him I had reason to think Cynthia Nolan had been up here in San Leandro on Wednesday, the day of the killing. And there was something else I didn't tell him, too. But I didn't know how it fit into the total picture. So I piled back into Tondaleo after grabbing a very fitful five hours of shut-eye and drove back down to L.A.

Mr.

Nile.

Oh, I didn't know you were coming. Come on in. Do you have any news?

Yes, I have, Mrs. Nolan. Shall we go sit down?

Oh, what is it? Oh, is it bad?

Yes, your husband is dead.

Oh, I knew it.

I just knew it.

Oh, how did you find out?

I learned he was in San Leandro, remember?

Yes.

Well, I drove up there yesterday.

You did?

And was that where Herbert had gone?

Yeah, that's right. He went up to his office at the San Leandro Orchid Brokers. And that's where he was killed.

Killed?

Oh, my gosh.

You mean somebody killed him?

That's what I mean.

Oh, how long would do such a thing?

Well, the police think your husband was doing business with a mob of dope smugglers. They figure he was executed by one of them.

Oh, oh, that's... That's horrible.

Oh, I don't believe it. Herbert would never be involved in anything illegal.

Nevertheless, the police say the Orchid Brokers was a front organization, and that's where Herbert was murdered.

No, I will never, ever believe Herbert was connected with anything like that.

Never.

Well, tell me something, Mrs. Nolan. Were you with Herbert in San Leandro on Wednesday?

Of course not.

There's a witness there who will testify that you were in your husband's Packard when he stopped for gas in San Leandro Wednesday.

Well, he's wrong or lying.

Now, that would place you in San Leandro the same day your husband was killed.

Oh, I don't know what you're talking about.

Now, tell me another thing. Why did you lie to me about not knowing how to drive?

I did not lie to you.

And about having a car of your own?

What are you trying to do? You're supposed to be working for me.

You have car keys in your handbag.

Yes.

I told you. They're a set of keys Herbert wanted me to have. They're for the Packard.

They're not, Cynthia. Those are Ford keys. There are no keys like Ford keys. I know. See, I have a Ford.

Oh, I don't care. That doesn't prove a thing.

It means you had a car, your Ford, to drive back down from San Leandro after you'd been with Herbert. But you ditched the Ford somewhere. It's not in your garage.

There is no Ford.

There's oil on the floor of your garage on both sides. Fresh oil drippings, one from the Packard, one from your Ford.

I haven't got a car.

Your garage tells a different story. I just checked just now, just before I knocked on the door. Did you know your husband was going to be killed, Mrs. Nolan?

Get out!

You just get out of here!

If you know who killed him, you better tell me, because otherwise I'm going to have to go to the police and tell them what I know.

Oh, go ahead.

You don't know anything.

You could have hired me to find your husband and make it look as if you had nothing to do with it. Let me discover a gangland execution. Which is what would have happened. Only I think you were in San Leandro on Wednesday.

Oh, right.

I was in San Leandro, but I had nothing to do with Herbert's death. I swear it.

What were you doing up there?

I followed him when he left here. He drove out Sunday night. We had a row.

He drove off and I followed. By the time he got to San Leandro, well, we'd both cooled down. I rode around town with him and we talked it over.

That was all.

So you got back in your car and you drove almost 400 miles back down to L.A. and then you called me to go hunt for him.

Why?

What sense does that make?

Oh, I admit I knew where he'd gone, but I had no idea that any harm had come to him. I was afraid to tell you about following him up there. I was afraid you or someone would think I was still angry with him. When I left him Wednesday, he said he'd be calling me. He said he'd be back home on Friday. When he didn't call, I got panicky.

That's it. That's what happened. Oh, please, you have to believe me.

Where was he when you saw him last?

In his car. He drove me back to my car, and we said goodbye on the street.

Not in his back office?

No.

And you didn't shoot him while he was begging for mercy?

No.

Oh, I wouldn't shoot a man on his knees. I didn't... Oh, well, it was an accident. I never meant to do it.

You drove all the way up there with a gun?

Well, to frighten him, so he'd leave her alone and come back to me.

Who?

Corinne, his secretary. But I didn't mean to kill him.

It won't wash, Cynthia. One shot by accident. A clever lawyer might get you off with involuntary manslaughter. Maybe murder, too, but you fired more than one shot into your husband, didn't you? Murder won, Mrs. Nolan. Come on. Come on. There's an officer who will take down your confession.

Oh, you had it wrong, Niall. You had it wrong.

I think I had it right.

No, you had it wrong. It wasn't a Ford. It was a Lincoln.

I lead Cynthia Nolan out of her orderly, quiet home. Just as a San Leandro police car pulls up and George Coleman gets out. He helps her into the back seat, almost tenderly, and drives away. I had to spend another day up in San Leandro at the inquest. Cynthia Nolan was sentenced to spend most of the rest of her life at Tehachapi. George Coleman was able to round up six of the men whose names were in Herbert Nolan's little black book, but I never collected a dime, not even expenses, for the phone calls and the 800 miles of wear and tear on my old V8. until I got a check in the mail from the San Leandro Police Department, $ 50 for assistance, and a letter of thanks, which is more than I sometimes get.

The Adventures of Harry Nile feature Phil Harper as Harry, with Carrie Owen, William Lowe, and Dan Leach. Music by David Shire. Sound created by Stu Conway. The Adventures of Harry Nile are created and produced by Jim French, and are recorded before a live audience in Seattle. This is Jay Green speaking.

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