Broadway Is My Beat

Broadway Is My Beat: Funeral at Midnight Buried Truths

Montag, 19. Oktober 2026 · 1 h 03

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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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And I have to answer it.

Okay, okay. Now, if you and Pavlov don't mind, I'll take the call. This is Harry Nile.

Mr. Nile, my name is Mary Pemberton at the law firm of Fields, Morris, and Shackleford. Are you available to take a case?

Depends. What do you need?

We're defending a client in a fraud case, and we need to collect evidence.

Sure, we do that. Who's the lawyer I'll be working with?

My name is Mary Pemberton.

Yeah, right. I got that. Who's your boss, Mary? What's his name?

I am the lawyer you'll be working with. You have a problem with that, Mr.

Nile?

No, no. It's only that.

Lawyers are supposed to be men?

Mr.

Nile, we're living in the 1950s. Women are untying their aprons and coming out of the kitchen. Some of us are even able to count to ten.

Um, look, I'm sorry, Miss Pemberton.

Do you want the case or not?

Well, sure I want the case.

Uh, and you think you can work for a woman?

Hey.

Is that a yes?

Yes, Miss Pemberton. I'll be only too happy to handle whatever you need me to do.

And try not to be servile.

Right.

Our offices are in the Smith Tower, 14th floor. Be here at 11 this morning.

Right.

Goodbye, Mr. Nile.

Goodbye, Miss Pemberton.

Ooh, what was that all about?

What's servile?

What?

Servile. Was I being servile? I don't even know what that means.

Well, servile means, uh... Obsequious.

Oh, yeah, thanks a lot. What does obsequious mean?

Well, it means, well, slavish, submissive, cringing, subordinating.

Okay, okay, okay, I get the picture. This is going to be some job. I'm working for a lady lawyer. Sounds like my old history teacher back at P.S. 21. Skinny as a rail, gray hair, tied in a bun, a permanent scowl.

Harry Nile, in the case of the sinister minister....

Well, I blew it with Mary Pemberton. Figured she was someone's secretary, not my employer. On top of which, Murphy gives me what for? For downgrading the role of women in our society or something like that. So by the time I walk in the offices of Fields, Morse, and Shackleford, I'm prepared to be treated like Attila the Hun.

Mr.

Nile?

Are you Harry Nile?

Yeah, yes, yes.

Well, I'm Mary Pemberton. How do you do? Come this way and I'll give you the packet.

Mary Pemberton is not wearing tweed. Her hair isn't a gray bun. And her face isn't a hawk-nosed scowl. Mary Pemberton is 5'5, softly curled black hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones, a navy blue suit, great stems, and a subtle perfume that goes direct to the brain and turns it into porridge. I lope along behind her like a Saint Bernard.

If you care to sit down?

Thanks, uh... say about this.

The client we're defending is the Reverend J.J. Jones.

Jimmy Jack Jones, the radio preacher?

Yes.

A disgruntled contributor is suing Reverend Jones for alleged misuse of church funds. The suit asks $ 10, 000 in damages, and that's how much she claims she donated, plus punitive damages amounting to $ 90, 000. Your job will be to gather discrediting evidence against the plaintiff with the hope that we can either settle out of court or get a frivolous filing judgment and have the case thrown out for lack of merit.

Any questions so far?

Well, yeah. Jimmy Jack Jones is a pretty well-known guy. How come I haven't read about this lawsuit? Oh, you will.

It's just being filed this morning.

And you're just now hiring an investigator?

Well, Reverend Jones retained us only three days ago.

Ah.

Now, in the package, you'll find all the pertinent data on the plaintiff. We're particularly interested in her psychological profile. If the case comes to trial.

You say it's a woman?

Charlotte Phillips. As I was saying, we're interested in any evidence that she is psychologically unsound, that she has mental or... Emotional problems.

Uh-huh. Just what she accused Jones of doing.

It's all in the packet. I suggest you read it, and then if you have any more questions, give me a call.

Right.

Now, if there's nothing else at the moment.

Any objections to me talking with the Reverend Jones directly?

Uh, if you feel you need to.

Well, okay. Well, actually, I do have one more question. Why did you pick me? Was I recommended, or did you.

Well, frankly, Mr. Nile, the first five agencies I called were too busy to take on another case. Or so they said after I mentioned the name of our client.

Which means she thinks the other five PIs didn't want to touch the defense of the Reverend Jimmy Jack. Which makes me want to meet him in person. But first, I've got to get the lowdown on the lady who's suing him, Charlotte Phillips. Back in my office, I go through the information Mary Pemberton gave me.

Does it look serious, Harry?

Yeah, pretty serious. She claims Jimmy Jack promised her for her donation she'd get free lifetime care in a nursing home that exists only on paper.

Oh, what a shame.

I guess the guy preys on old people, huh?

And you're supposed to be helping defend him?

Well, everyone's entitled to legal defense.

Are you going to see Charlotte Phillips?

I'm going to have to. And the Reverend? Just as soon as he's off the air. I'm headed over to the radio station right now.

Now, friends, these daily broadcasts are very expensive. If we are to carry on the great work of this ministry, we simply must know that you are standing with us in this crucial time of need. Millions around the world are waiting to hear our message. But unless you open your hearts and your purses, those poor souls will never hear our message of love. I'm counting on you to be a partner in this work. I'm looking for a generous contribution this very week.

Hallelujah.

Now, my friends out there in Radioland, before I close today's program, I want to warn you about the work of the devil. In fact, I'm going to make a prophecy here and now. In a matter of hours, you will be reading and hearing lying, scurrilous charges against me and my work. No right-thinking believer will listen to these charges.

They come from the Prince of Darkness. Friends, don't listen to it. Shut it out.

Or shut it off. The radio station parking lot has one slot open, and I grab it. It's right beside a big white limousine that wears a gold monogram, JJJ. There's a bunch of people in the reception room, all keeping their eyes on a door marked Artiste's Entrance with an E yet. And most of the people are older.

One woman has two canes, another's blind. At last, the artiste's door opens, and out walks a burly guy who can only be a bodyguard. He sweeps the room with his dark glasses, he turns, he nods into the doorway, and the Reverend Jimmy Jack Jones himself strides briskly through, carrying an elegant alligator briefcase. It's got a little boy face, red blonde hair that's either dyed, maybe it's a wig.

He hasn't missed too many meals, though. He's dressed like a million bucks. and his admirers gather around him. There's a flash of papers for an autograph, a flash of money offered by a couple of the admirers, which he deftly slips into his pocket all the time he's edging toward the door, which his bodyguard is holding open for him.

When he's outside, the bodyguard gets between Jones and me. So, I say the magic words. Oh, Reverend, Mary Pemberton sent me. I'm your detective. Could I see you for a minute? Not out here.

He'll talk in my car, the white limo in the parking lot. Well, I'm glad to know you, Mr.

Nile.

Can we drive you somewhere?

No, no, that's my car parked next door.

Oh, I see.

Well, I just need a couple of details before I begin investigating this woman who's suing you.

Oh, yes, the disturbed one. Disturbed or possessed.

You know her personally, this... Charlotte Phillips?

Know her personally?

No.

She's just one of the little people who support my work.

And just what is your work, Reverend?

Why, taking the message to the world.

How do you do that?

Well, we have a sizable outreach program.

Employing about how many people, would you say?

The actual numbers escape me at the moment.

So if someone like Charlotte Phillips were to give you, say, ten grand.

Just a moment.

Let me correct you.

Mrs.

Phillips did not give me anything. She may have made a freewill gift offering to support the work, but let's be clear, she did not give me anything. Certainly nothing like $ 10, 000. Nobody gives Jimmy Jack a single penny. Everything goes to the work. Everything.

Next, I go back to the radio station and use their phone to call my friend Ralph in the County Bureau of Records. He tells me no lawsuit against Jones was filed this morning by Charlotte Phillips. That's a surprise. I checked Pemberton's packet, and sure enough, she's included Charlotte Phillips' address. It's in the Green Lake district of town.

Yes?

Charlotte Phillips?

Yes, what do you want?

Well, I'm a private investigator, Miss Phillips. I'd like to talk to you about the Reverend J.J.

Jones.

I don't want to talk about him.

Well, weren't you planning on suing him?

I said I don't want to talk about him. Now you go away.

Ma'am, just wait a... Just wait a second, please. If you won't talk about him, do you know anyone who I could talk to?

No.

Maybe another member of his church.

His church.

Maybe someone who gave money, like you did.

Just go away, mister. I have nothing more to say about Jimmy Jack.

Charlotte phillips looks haggard and afraid maybe she's in her late 40s maybe early 50s i stand on her porch and i knock again i.

Told you to go away miss phillips I don't want to hear his name again.

Miss Phillips, now listen. If you're in any kind of trouble.

The trouble I'm in is nobody's business but mine. Now please go.

Did he promise to marry you?

I don't want to talk about it.

Well, it was worth a shot. She called him Jimmy Jack. Did he mean more to her than the preacher? Or is she crazy like Mary Pemberton hoped to prove? I don't really have anything. Just a hunch. But what I saw in Charlotte Phillips' eyes was sadness and fear. I find a payphone and call Fields, Morse, and Shackleford and ask for Mary Pemberton.

Yes, Mr.

Nile.

I know the Phillips woman didn't bring suit this morning, so I'll call you if we need you again. You can mail the packet back to me and I'll mail a check to your office.

So I'm off the case?

Yes, Mr.

Nile.

For now, you're off the case.

Oh, good.

Good?

Yeah. See you around, Counselor. Yeah, I'm switching sides. I've got a pretty well-developed sense of smell, and something about Jimmy Jack Jones is beginning to stink. What I need now is a list of his other major contributors to his church. And for that, I dip back into Pemberton's packet. And sure enough, Mary Pemberton researched a dozen more names of parishioners to be character witnesses for the Reverend Jones.

About half of them are women. And the first one I call... is only too willing to talk.

Yes, this is Patsy Adams.

Who's this?

My name's Harry Nile. I'm calling about Reverend Jimmy Jack Jones. I understand you know him personally.

Yes, yes, you could say that.

Would you like to help him?

Help him? Well, of course. But really, Mr. Nile, I've given him everything I can. He knows I have.

I don't know where I'll find any more money to invest.

Invest?

Well, yes. In what?

Why, the school for orphans in Rhodesia. I gave him my life savings. Oh, but it was such a wonderful investment, and after all, my future is secure with the retirement home all paid.

For and everything.

I make call after call, and the story's the same. Middle-aged widows and divorcees investing their savings... In an orphanage in Rhodesia, a mission school in Guatemala, a hospital in Kuala Lumpur, I figure it's time to try to talk one more time with Charlotte Phillips.

Why do you keep coming back?

To try to help you get your.

$ 10, 000 back.

No, I deserve to lose it. I deserved it.

Look, I can help you if you'll help me. I spent half a day talking with other women just like you.

You mean women who let him seduce them?

Can we go inside?

Oh, I suppose so. Sit anywhere.

Miss Phillips, why did you decide not to sue Jones?

Because then it would all come out in the papers.

What would all come out? About you and Jones?

He said he'd ruin my name.

Yeah, but on his broadcast this morning, he said there'd be some accusations made against him. Was he talking about your lawsuit?

I heard him.

He's already making out like I'm the devil incarnate. If I sued him, everybody would talk about me. I'd lose every friend I have in the world. So I decided to just drop it.

Look, Mr. Nile, I let him make a fool of me. I was lonely. He was famous.

He was the first man who paid any attention to me since my husband died 19. years ago, he made it all seem so.

Holy, so righteous.

I leave Charlotte Phillips and head for Belltown, where Jimmy Jack Jones has his church. But as it happens, I don't have to go to him. He comes to me. I'm walking from Charlotte's place to my car when a big white limo pulls up, and the back door opens.

Mr.

Nile, can I give you a lift?

Gee, Reverend, you're always trying to take me for a ride.

Ha ha, I get it. Come on, Mr. Nile, let's talk.

What do you say?

Now, I have just one question. You're a detective we hired to help defend us against that poor crazy woman, Charlotte Phillips. Is that right?

Yeah.

Maybe you didn't hear. She decided not to sue us after all.

I heard.

Well, then I wonder why you've made two trips to talk with her today. She's ancient history, Mr.

Nile. What did you do? Threaten her or pay her off?

You know, this is strange talk from a person in my payroll.

I'm not on your payroll. Mary Pemberton terminated my services about an hour ago.

Oh, I see.

And you were so touched by Charlotte's tale of woe that you came back to console her? Mr. Nile, don't mess where you're not needed or wanted.

I also talked with another one of those little people you were telling me about this morning. Betsy Adams? She says you took her life savings to invest in an orphanage in Rhodesia.

She was genuinely touched by the spirit.

And did you romance her, too?

I find that to be none of your business.

And promise her lifelong care in a retirement home?

That is between my gift partners and myself.

Let's get down to it, Rev. Can you prove the money you take from believers really helps anyone but Jimmy Jack Jones?

Can you prove it doesn't?

I'm sure gonna try.

I am a man of peace and love, but you seem to be an enemy of peace and love, a serpent, come to pull down my people's house of faith. So I'm gonna cast you out. I'm gonna pronounce a curse upon you. Stop here, Jeffrey. Let this infidel find his own way back. The end of the line, Mr.

Nile.

You are now living under a curse.

I hoof it back to where I parked my car. It starts to rain before I'm halfway there. But on my soggy walk, a plan takes shape. If it works, I figure I can get Charlotte and Patsy's money back. If it doesn't work, I'll wind up in jail. And so will Murphy.

This is my first time.

Don't worry about it, Murphy. You'll be great.

Just be thinking about nailing this con artist.

What if he doesn't believe me?

I don't think he can take that chance.

Hey, isn't there a law against impersonating a federal.

Listen, what you're doing is helping the feds. If they knew what a snake this guy is, they'd be making this very call themselves.

Wait, wait, wait.

It's ringing.

Go to it, Murphy. Remember, you sound angry and important.

Hello?

Angry and important.

Hello, this is Miss Brewster from the Internal Revenue Service. Please connect me with Jimmy Jack Jones. That's right, the Internal Revenue Service.

Sounding good.

They've gone to get him.

I can hear a bunch of them whispering.

I'll bet they are.

Hello?

Angry.

Is this Mr. Jimmy Jack Jones? This is Ms. Brewster from the Internal Revenue Service.

Mr.

Jones, we are auditing your tax return for last year, and we find some serious discrepancies regarding your claim as a tax-exempt charitable organization. We will expect you in our offices at 10 o'clock tomorrow morning. We don't care if you do a radio program at 10 o'clock. Bring your records and be in my office at 10 o'clock sharp.

Oh, terrific, Murphy. You almost scared me. Now, I'm going to be really busy for the rest of the afternoon.

Well, I have to check in at the library.

Hey, where will you be?

Let's see. I've got to talk three people into going along with me and my little scheme, so I may not see you until 11 o'clock tomorrow morning. Oh, and be sure to tune in to the Reverend Jimmy Jack Jones tomorrow at 10. Ladies and gentlemen.

Due to unforeseen circumstances, the Reverend Jimmy Jack Jones will not be heard this morning in his place. We have been provided this tape-recorded program.

Hello. My name is Charlotte Phillips.

Jimmy Jack Jones got me to donate $ 10, 000 to help build a hospital in Kuala Lumpur, and he promised to marry me.

My name is Patsy Adams.

Well, I guess I'm as embarrassed as Charlotte, but someone's got to expose Jimmy Jack. I gave him my life savings to put into his orphanage in Rhodesia, and he promised to marry me.

My name's.

Harry Nile. There may be more women like Charlotte and Patsy who were romanced for their money by Jimmy Jack Jones... And so far as I've been able to discover after a lot of overseas phone calls, Jones has no orphanage in Rhodesia and no hospital in Kuala Lumpur. So when you send money to Jimmy Jack Jones, just remember Charlotte and Patsy.

Well, pretty proud of yourself, Mr.

Nile.

I tuned in the Jimmy Jack Jones program this morning.

Eh, switch sides, Miss Pemberton. Your check came in the morning mail. I thought I'd better return it to you.

Well, that's your fee.

Oh, I know.

But I decided I didn't like your client.

He's not my client anymore.

Well, I hope he doesn't owe you any money. I stopped by his office after the broadcast was on the air. He's cleaned it out. He's gone. Of course, he'll turn up in some other town. Here, take the check.

Keep it. You'll need it when those long-distance phone bills come in.

The case of the sinister minister featured Phil Harper as Harry Nile and Pat French as Murphy, with Paul Walsh, Katrina Baxter Hodiak, Tinsley Palmer, Esther Druxman, and Harry Anderson. The Adventures of Harry Nile are directed by Pat French, with sound created by Bruce Rogerson, dialogue mix by Peggy Stokes.

The program was recorded before a live audience in Seattle, and was written and produced by Jim French. This is Jay Green speaking. The Adventures of Harry Nile.

Have I given you everything you need to know, Mr.

Nile? Let's go over it again. Your name is Justine Schumann. You left your husband. You moved up to Vancouver a month ago. Now you can't reach him on the phone, and you want me to go check and see if he's all right.

Yes.

And he lives out by Lake Ballinger in a secluded house.

Yes.

I always worried that if we ever needed help, nobody could see our house except from the lake. I mean, there aren't any close neighbors, and we are surrounded by trees.

Uh-huh. And if he doesn't answer the door, you want me to go get the door key from under the potted plant on the porch and just go inside?

Yes.

Yes.

Okay, Mrs.

Shuman, I'll take a run up there right away.

And if he's okay, tell him to call me.

Okay, gotcha.

I mean, I'd rather pay someone like you to find out than have some policemen go up there and, I mean, uniforms and police cars and all.

Oh, I think I understand.

And I'll put my check in the mail to you first thing.

That'll be fine.

There's one thing I didn't mention.

Yeah?

The reason I left him. His drinking was getting out of hand. I thought if I left him for a while, it might sort of shock him into going on the wagon, but now.

I'll let you know, Mrs. Schumann.

It is the morning of Thursday, November the 1st, 1951, and the odor of singed pumpkin lingers in the alder leaves. and blackened jack-o'-lanterns still grin from front porches as a reminder of Halloween the night before. Thin sunlight over Seattle barely melts the frost as Harry sallies forth to search for a missing husband and winds up finding something unexpected along the way.

Well, I find the Schumann Cottage. It's not a big place, probably built as a summer hideaway on the lake, and it's hidden on three sides by a dense forest of fir, maple, and alder. The fourth side's the lake. There's a car in the garage, carpeted dead pine needles on the ground, and a woodpile out back. Everything looks quiet and peaceful.

Mr.

Schumann?

Mr.

Schumann?

I look through a window. Some lights are still on in the living room. That's not a good sign. So I go find the house key. And I let myself in the front door.

Mr.

Schumann.

Mr.

Schumann, I'm a detective. I've come to see if you're all right. Nothing. I go into the kitchen. There's a partly eaten sandwich on the sideboard. Meatloaf, looks like. In the sink, there's a couple of empty wine bottles. And down in the corner, a paper bag holds a dozen beer bottles, all so empty. I check the other rooms.

There's an unmade bed. There's pocket articles dumped on the dresser. And it's when I check the bathroom that I get a new direction on this thing. There's no water in the toilet bowl. There's no water in the toilet tank. So I try the faucets on the wash basin. They're dry. I wonder how long the water's been shut off. And why.

I check the rest of the house. No sign of a struggle, nothing unusual at all. I call the bookshop where he's a partner and they haven't seen him for three days either. Well, I decide I'll dial up Murphy, my part-time assistant. I figure she can do some paper checking while I hit the trail. Yeah, Osterman here. Hi, Mr.

Osterman.

It's Harry Nile. Let me talk to Murphy if she's around.

Mr.

Nile, Fraulein Murphy's not here anymore.

Well, listen, can you tell her to... What did you say?

Fraulein Murphy.

She's not here anymore. That's what I thought you said. Look, I know English isn't your native tongue, but you made it sound like she'd moved or something.

Yeah.

She's moved?

Where?

Where'd she go?

Oh.

I don't know.

What? Oh, come on, this is crazy. Murphy wouldn't move without telling me. When'd she leave? Um, Tuesday. Yeah, Tuesday. Did she leave me a message or anything?

Uh, yeah.

Fräulein Murphy, she's telling me to tell you goodbye, auf Wiedersehen, and thanks for everything.

But she can't do that. Murphy's been my bird dog, my researcher. She's the person I complain to when I'm stumped and the one I brag to when I win. She's... She's Murphy. She can't run out on me like that. Now I've got two missing persons on my hands. I drop everything and rush back to town in Osterman's old Victorian rooming house, right up on the top of Queen Anne Hill.

Ah, Mr.

Nile, come in.

Okay, Mr. Osterman, I'm here to find out where she went.

But I can't tell you. I don't know.

Now, listen, you're her landlord. You've got to have her forwarding address. Suppose she owes you some back rent.

No, she's paid up.

Okay, look, I'm a detective. I can find her myself, but I haven't got time for that. I need her help now. Let me search her room.

Oh, no, I'm sorry, Mr.

Nile.

I can't do that.

Why not?

Well, I rented it already to someone else.

Oh, that's great.

Okay, look, if she calls you, tell her to call me right away. Tell her I've got some work for her to do. Yeah, I'll tell her if she should call. Well, I've got to put my mind back on my business. I promised I'd let Justine Schumann know what I found out, so I place a call to her sister's place in Vancouver.

There was no sign of him? Nope.

Oh, no.

Mrs. Schumann, it's time you filed a missing persons report.

Can't you do that for me?

Well, I can, but it would be better if you did it in person.

But I'm up here in B.C.

Well, okay. Now, do you want me to continue searching for Arthur... Yes. even after the police get my report?

Yes.

Okay.

Well, you'll be hearing from me. I stopped by the bookshop in Bindry.

Schumann owns.

It's a small, elegant-looking shop in Bothell. And the guy who greets me is also elegant. He wears gold-rimmed round eyeglasses and a prim little bow tie. His name is Tim Shanklin.

I wish I could help you, Mr. Nile, but I'm as mystified by all this as you are. Mysteries are supposed to be our specialty.

Well, how long have you worked for Arthur Schumann?

Oh, I own the shop with him.

We're equal partners.

Uh, Mr. Shanklin, when Arthur didn't show up for work on Monday, what did you do?

Well.

When it got to be almost noon, I called his house.

No answer.

I called again about five. I was worried it's not like him.

You didn't go out to his house?

No.

No, I suppose I should have. But I'm not sure I could even find the turnoff. It's quite remote, you know.

So the last time you saw him was.

Friday night when we closed up shop. You see, normally I take the week's receipts and make a night deposit at the bank because it's right on my way home and Arthur lives way out on Lake Ballinger.

But this time, Schumann made the deposit, is that right?

Yes.

Arthur did it because I had to go pick up a tux for a black-tie dinner at the Norselander at seven. Bachelor party for a friend of mine getting married.

How much cash would he have had on him when he left the shop?

Over $ 700. You see, I have a theory. I hate to think it, but I... I'm afraid Arthur's been well... There's been a mysterious character hanging around town most of the week, and all the merchants have noticed him. He was in the shop twice, just thumbing through books. I think he was casing the place. I'm sure he followed Arthur and did something terrible to him.

You report this to the police?

I should have, but Monday night I called Justine, Schumann's wife. She lives in Vancouver. Well, you know that. And I thought maybe Arthur had gone up there to see her, but he hadn't. And she said she didn't want me to notify the authorities because she was afraid of scandal, so I didn't.

Well, now, listen, it's just about lunchtime. Why don't you drive me to your bank so I can sort of see where things are, and then we can stop by the police station and report this, and then I'll buy you lunch.

Well, I could take you over to the bank, but I've got to get right back to the store. I'm all alone here without Arthur. Oh, and I bring my lunch from home, but thanks anyway.

Okay.

Well, Shanklin and I pile into his little British Hillman minx, and he runs me over to show me where the bank and his apartment are. And we stop at the police station and fill out a report. I leave Shanklin back at his shop, and I drive out to Schumann's. Now there's a car parked beside the house. It's too expensive to be a police car. I'm about to knock, but the front door is standing open and in the living room is Murphy.

Harry!

What in the Sam Hill are you doing here? What do you mean running out on me? What's going on?

You don't have to answer her, Mary. I don't think I've had the pleasure, Harry. Ward Shepperton.

Shepperton?

That's right.

Shepperton Security and Investigations. You may have heard of us.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Who hasn't? Murphy, you want to tell me what's going on?

Miss Murphy and I are investigating a missing persons case.

All right. What's this Miss Murphy and I routine? Murphy, what are you doing with this guy?

She's my new assistant.

Oh, that mean you do all the talking for her?

I'm, uh, I'm working for Mr. Shepperton, Harry.

Since when?

Since Tuesday.

You're working with the competition? You have a job working for me, remember?

Yes. As I understand it, Miss Murphy has never been paid for any of the work she's done for you. I'd hardly call that a job.

I'm sorry, Harry. It was cowardly of me. I know I just I just didn't know how to tell you.

Yeah, so you ran out on me. You even checked out of Osterman's, so I wouldn't follow you.

Oh, I knew you'd take it this way.

Take it this way? I brought you up here from Los Angeles. I trained you. I taught you everything you know.

Mary, you didn't bring me up here. I came up on my own.

Tut, tut, old boy. Let's stick to the facts. You used Mary's research skills. You used Mary's library connections.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Wait a minute.

What's this Mary?

That's my first name.

You never told me that.

You never asked.

Yes, I did. The first night we met, the night we went to Chiliville, the night I took you out to the beach when we were trying to chase down that guy from New York.

This is all very touching, but I have an investigation to do here. I'm sure you can appreciate that.

What do you mean you have an investigation? I'm the one Justine Schumann hired to find her husband.

And I'm the one Vivian Schumann hired to find her son. How do you suppose I got the key to this house? She gave me hers.

So we're both trying to find the same guy for two different clients.

Amazing powers of deduction, old boy.

Murphy's working for the other guy. Ward Shepperton runs the biggest P.I. outfit in the state with offices in Portland and Vancouver as well. And to say it's a blow to my pride is... Well, it's like saying the Sahara Desert is a sandbox.

Well, old boy... Since it seems fate has thrown us together on the same case, I'm sure you'll learn a great deal from watching a professional at work.

And I'm sure if you call me old boy one more time, I'm going to whack you so hard on the top of your head you'll have three tongues in your shoes.

Harry, Ward, both of you, stop it. You're acting as if this is some kind of a game.

I assure you, Mary, I am in deadly earnest.

Well, so am I, and I need to talk with Schumann's mother.

Absolutely not.

Mrs.

Schumann retained my agency on terms of the strictest secrecy. She wants to avoid unpleasant publicity. That's why she retained my firm rather than report her son's absence to the police.

She doesn't want to go to the police.

A matter of privacy.

Yeah?

Well, my Mrs. Schumann asked me to turn in a missing persons report, and I did about a half an hour ago. You didn't.

I did.

Well, maybe Harry's got a good idea, Ward. Why don't we all go to West Seattle and see Mrs.

Schumann?

So we lock up the house and drive to the posh apartment overlooking Puget Sound where Arthur Schumann's mother lives. Yes? Yes?

Oh, Mr. Shepperton.

Mrs.

Schumann, you remember my assistant, Miss Murphy, and this is Harry Nile.

Mr.

Nile is also a private investigator.

Oh?

Well, come in.

Sit anywhere you like.

What have you found out?

Mr.

Nile here tells me he has been retained by your daughter-in-law to try to locate your son.

Is that so?

And where is Justine these days?

Well, she's staying out of town with a relative. I guess she knew she'd left Arthur.

Oh, yes.

I knew.

Have you made any progress.

At all, Mr.

Shepperton? Well, of course. I've only had the case a few hours.

Uh, Mrs. Schumann, has your son been in touch with you the last three or four days?

What an odd question.

If he'd been in touch with me, why would I be hiring a private detective to find him?

Very odd question, Mr.

Nile.

Now, we needn't take any more of Mrs. Schumann's time.

Well, I've got another odd question. How did you find out your son was missing? What?

Because I called and called, and there was no answer at his house.

I called the bookshop, and they hadn't seen him either.

How do you get along with Justine?

Terry.

I don't consider that to be any of your business.

You didn't even know where Justine went after she left Arthur?

And I really couldn't care less.

I see.

Well, we've taken enough of your time, Mrs. Schumann. I thought, in view of the unusual situation we have here... You ought to know that your daughter-in-law had hired her own detective.

Mr.

Shepperton, she can hire the Royal Canadian Mounted Police for all I care. I'm hiring you to find my son.

Well, I must say you have a distinctive interview technique, Harry. Now, I have a lot of paperwork to do.

What are your plans?

Me?

I'm going back up to Lake Ballinger. I sure could use some help. I... Don't suppose you'd come along with me for an hour or so, Murphy?

Miss Murphy works for me now, Harry.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I just thought. How much is he paying you, Murphy? Whatever it is, I'll match it. I'll beat it.

This is outrageous.

I'm getting a dollar an hour.

I'll give you a buck and a quarter.

Come along, Mary. We're going back to the office.

Come on, let me rent her for an hour. Look, here's two bucks.

Oh, there you go again, Harry.

You don't see it, do you?

You don't have a clue.

Yeah, I do have a clue. In fact, I got a couple of clues, and I need you to run one of them down for me while I work on the other one.

I mean, you don't have a clue about why I left you. You didn't think about paying me until you lost me. I didn't have any value to you until someone else hired me.

Mary, in heaven's name, this is no place to conduct yourself this way.

Well, how about it? If I were to find Arthur Schumann this afternoon, you want to be in on it, Murphy?

Mary, I'm going to my car.

It's starting to rain.

How about it, Murphy? Can I hire you back? Hire me back?

You never hired me in the first place, Harry.

I let you use me. I... And then I finally decided I didn't like feeling used.

Coming, Mary?

Okay, look, I'll put you on the payroll. You don't have a payroll. Okay, I'll have a payroll, and you'll be on it. The thing is, I thought we were a team.

I'm warning you, Mary, there's an end to my patience.

Oh, I always wanted us to be a team. But I guess I wasn't sure what kind of game you were playing. I hate talking in metaphors. Why can't we just say what we mean?

I am saying what I mean. I need you back again.

All right, Mary, it pains me to do this, but I'm going to have to make other arrangements if you don't get in this car this instant. Ah, forget it, Murphy.

I don't want to louse up your new job for you. Go on with Shepperton. You deserve a regular job with a regular salary. That's what you want, right?

Yeah, I guess so.

Goodbye, Harry. So long, Murphy. I get in my car and I head back out to the Schumann place. I don't remember much about the drive there. I guess my mind was on other things. It's getting dark. It's raining heavily when I pull up beside the house. Before I go in, I grab my flashlight. And I scout around outside to see where the main water valve is located.

And I find it. right beside the house, under the kitchen window, and back. The valve is open. So, why no water in the plumbing? Then I realize, this far out in the sticks, they could have a well. And if it has a well, it could have a pump. I hurry back toward the garage, back out into the trees, and sure enough, up behind the garage, there's a broken-down shed.

I pry... the door open. Yeah, it's the pump house. And there's an electric motor and a pump on a cement slab on the floor, right beside an old stone well housing that comes about waist high, sort of like one of those quaint wishing wells. I shine my flashlight down into it, and yeah, I get my wish. Head first, about 30 feet down. Arthur Schumann.

Go ahead, order anything you want.

Well, hey, the whole menu's in French.

Well, this is Les Maisons Blancs.

I can order for you, Harry.

I don't care what it is, as long as it's expensive and you're paying for it.

Thank you so much. Well, I planned this little threesome for two reasons. First, to congratulate you for solving the case, Harry. Although a child would have known Shanklin did it.

But how did you get Shanklin to confess?

Well, I pointed out the lies he told me. He lied when he said he hadn't been out to Schumann's. The floor mat of his car was littered with those little brown pine needles.

Fur.

Okay, fur needles. Anyway, when I let myself into his apartment, I.

You broke into his apartment?

I didn't break a thing, but I did find a whole lot more of those fur needles in some pants.

Hardly incriminating evidence.

Well, then there was the tuxedo he didn't rent. Remember he told me he got Schumann to make the deposit because he had to pick up a tux and get into Seattle and go to a banquet at seven? Well, I located the host of that banquet, and he remembers Shanklin showing up just about nine, dressed in slacks and a sport coat.

Which would have given him plenty of time to drive out to Lake Ballinger, murder Schumann.

Set up the scene in the kitchen that he wanted to be found. What scene? Well, the half-eaten sandwich and the water being off. See, Shanklin, the mystery buff, wanted it to look like Schumann had been eating a sandwich when he notices there's no water. So he goes out to the well to check the pump and he falls in.

You mean to say that Shanklin caved in when you confronted him with that?

Well, there was one other little detail, the meatloaf sandwich.

What about it?

Well, it had maybe three bites out of it. But when the coroner did his autopsy and opened up the stomach, guess what?

No meatloaf sandwich?

Yeah, you got it. Oh, and one other thing. When I visited Shanklin's apartment, guess what I found in his refrigerator? meatloaf which the crime lab says was the same meatloaf as the sandwich at schumann's house.

So shanklin killed his partner to get his half of the business.

Very common plot now to the second reason for our celebration miss murphy you are fired i am for consorting with the competition ah but.

Never fear murphy i happen to know where you can get another job.

The Adventures of Harry Nile features Phil Harper as Harry, with Pat French as Murphy, and Terry Rose as Mr.

Osterman.

Also in our cast were Terry MacDonald as Shepperton, Richard Brestoff as Shanklin, Valerie Mamchez as Justine, and Leigh Posh as Vivian. Sound created by Stu Conway, Bruce Rogerson, and Ben Peterson. Mixing by Peggy Stokes. The Meatloaf Matter was directed by Pat French, written and produced by Jim French.

and was recorded before a live audience in Seattle. Jay Green speaking. The Adventures of Harry Niles.

Harry Niles Investigations.

It's me, Murphy.

Harry, where are you? Do you know what time it is? Did you forget our dinner date?

All right, enough of the quiz show. The time is 9.30, and no, I didn't forget. It wasn't a date. It was just dinner. Oh, yeah, I'm at a mortuary.

I've been waiting all night down here at your office. Oh, and by the way, you're out of typewriter ribbon. Mortuary? Did you say you're at a mortuary?

Yeah, that's right. You got a black dress?

A black dress?

No, I've got a navy blue two-piece with.

A ball that has.

That'll do. Put her on. Get up here as soon as you can. Toland and Sons Mortuary on Beacon Hill.

We're having dinner at a mortuary?

No, Murphy, no dinner. Not till I get to the bottom of whatever's going to happen at the funeral tonight.

At midnight.

Oh, and bring a warm coat and boots.

A funeral at midnight? Ooh, that sounds kind of weird.

Murphy, you ain't heard the half of it.

Oh. A chill is in the air and rain is in the forecast on a Friday in April 1951. A wind is whipping in from Puget Sound. The limbs of the alder trees not yet leafed out for spring wave against the scudding black clouds like arms raised in grief. A night to be home by the fire. Unless, of course, your occupation is on call without regard to the hour.

Occupations such as doctors, policemen, undertakers and private investigators.

Here's how it began. I get a call around 10 o'clock this morning from a guy named Toland. Says he's an undertaker. Got a hurry-up job that needs to know if his customer's on the level. And I say to him, gee, in your line of work, aren't all your customers on the level?

I've heard them all, Mr.

Nile.

Pardon me if I don't die laughing.

Okay, well, that makes us even. Okay, what's special about this customer?

The deceased's widow wants to hold the funeral tonight at midnight.

Midnight?

Huh.

Isn't that a little odd?

That's very odd. And that is why I'm just a bit concerned. Something may not be right here, Mr. Nile. Can you possibly do a little checking for me?

I went my way up Beacon Hill. Toland and Sons Mortuary is an old brick pile in a neighborhood that's seen better days. Out front, there's a pre-war LaSalle hearse that's been polished so much the black paint's almost gone. Up the steps, in front of the door, there's a brass sign saying, Walk in. Inside, it's all dark, polished mahogany and oriental rugs. And a fellow in a black suit appears. Yes, sir?

How can I help you? I'm looking for Mr.

Toland.

Mr.

Nile?

Yeah, right.

Well, thank you for coming so quickly.

E.B.

Toland.

I've never had occasion to call upon a detective before now.

I haven't needed an undertaker so far either, so we're even again.

Yes, well, let us talk in my office, if you'll just come this way.

E.B. must be the last American to use words like upon and let us talk. Toland's suit is sharply pressed, but as shiny as the hearse. Not a big money operation, this funeral home.

Here we are.

Take a seat, please.

Business a little slow these days?

I beg your pardon?

Folks not dying so much anymore? Mr.

Nile, many people are uneasy when they come to a mortuary. It's quite natural to make jokes to offset the tension.

Me and my big mouth, I'm sorry.

So you got a hurry-up call from a customer. Yes, 8 o'clock this morning a Mrs. Epperson phoned. She told me her husband had died in his sleep in the night, and she wanted him buried at midnight tonight. Precisely midnight, she said. And she had already called a gravedigger herself. And the burial's to be in a remote little cemetery out in Fenton.

You mean Renton?

No, no, Fenton. Fifty years ago, it was a coal mining settlement out in the foothills. Just a cluster of old shacks in this awful little graveyard. And that's what's making me suspicious, you see. Toland and Sons can't afford a scandal. some kind of cult or ritual, or has some crime been committed? I mean, why bury a body at midnight, no clergy, no family or guests, in a crude pine coffin in a deserted graveyard?

You, uh, have the body? Yes.

My assistant has just finished with it a few minutes ago.

And you got a coroner's okay to go ahead?

Oh, yes, yes. We can't embalm without a death certificate.

Right. Uh, you have that certificate handy?

Yes, yes, I have it here. The, uh, the coroner seemed to find everything in order.

Huh.

Name was Hiram Epperson, age 52. Cause of death, myocardial infarction, heart attack.

Anything peculiar about the body? Not that we could tell. Actually, my assistant went on the call. Would you like to talk with him? He just completed the embalming. Yeah, I'd like to talk to him.

Surely.

Tom, can you come in here, please?

So you need to know if there's a reason you shouldn't be handling this job.

And see if you can find out anything about Mrs. Epperson's circumstances. Like, are you going to get paid? Oh, she's already paid in cash. Now, this all may be perfectly innocent, but there are some eccentric people in the world, and Tolan & Sons is a small establishment, Mr.

Nile.

In a business where a good reputation means everything.

Yes, Mr.

Tolan.

You wanted to talk to me?

Oh, yes, yes, Tom. Tom, this is Mr. Nile.

Mr.

Nile, my assistant, Tom Davis.

Ah, nice to know you.

How do you do, Mr.

Nile?

Please accept my condolences. Oh, no, Mr. Nile isn't a client.

Oh?

Mr.

Nile is a private investigator, Tom I called him because I'm worried about the Epperson matter.

Well, it is a little out of the ordinary, I guess Now, you met with Mrs.

Epperson?

Yes And she didn't tell you why the burial had to be at midnight?

Frankly, I didn't ask Well, there's a certain protocol We try not to pry At a time like this.

Sure, sure How did she act?

Pardon me?

Well, I mean, was she bereaved or in shock? Quite typical, I'd say Huh Could I have a look at the body?

Certainly. Come this way, Mr.

Nile.

Here we are. This is where you... Yes, we do our work here. And the coroner says he died of natural causes.

There was no wound, if that's what you mean.

Boy, you do a great job. He looks just like he's sleeping.

Oh, we're very proud of our work. Of course, you might say it's wasted effort in this case.

How's that?

No one's going to see him. This will be closed casket. No lying in state.

No visitors.

We'll just place him in that.

Wooden coffin there.

Looks homemade. Oh, I think it is.

They had it in the basement. It's just a plain wooden box.

Let me get this straight. They already had this coffin?

That's right.

Mr.

Toland, I think you've got a problem here. By noon, I've talked with the neighbors, checked out Epperson's background, found out he was a college chemistry professor until five years ago. No police complaints, no local credit problems. Quiet, folks. So, now it's time to meet the widow. Through the narrow window in the door, I can see a woman coming to the door, dabbing at her eyes with a hanky.

I figure she's Epperson's daughter. Wrong.

Yes?

Hi.

Sorry to bother you. Is Mrs. Epperson home?

I'm Mrs.

Epperson.

Mrs.

Hirons?

Epperson?

Yes.

What can I do for you?

I'm really sorry to come at a time like this, but I'm from the newspaper, and we learned about your husband's death this morning, and I'm... Already?

How could you know?

Oh, it's just routine. We call the coroner every morning and find out if anyone notable has died.

Yes.

Yes, I see.

Please.

Please.

Forgive me.

I'm just so distracted. Won't you come inside?

If you don't mind. No, no.

Please come in.

What do you want to know?

About your husband's death. A heart attack?

Yes.

Must have been very sudden. Oh, it was.

It was totally unexpected. He was just fine. And then this morning it.

Uh-huh. You found him then?

Yes.

Oh, I'm sorry.

It does smell musty in here.

I saw it. You know, it's too bad that married couples never seem to talk about it.

Talk about what?

Talk about dying. When one of them dies. I mean, whoever makes plans. Or maybe you and your husband weren't like that. Maybe you were that rare couple who made all the preparations beforehand.

No, no.

Like I said, it all came as such a sudden shock.

Caught you completely unprepared.

I mean, how can you prepare yourself for something like this?

Yeah, right. Oh, I'm going to need to know the time and place of the funeral. Oh, no, no.

It's a private funeral. Hiram wanted it that way.

Private?

Yes.

Then you did talk about it. I mean, what he wanted done.

Oh, I don't know.

My mind's all mixed up, you see. Is there anything else you have to ask me right now?

Well, I'm going to need a picture of the deceased.

A picture?

Oh, yes. I think I can spare one.

Just a minute.

I'll be just a second.

Oh, yes, yes, yes.

It's here.

Will this one do?

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. That'll do fine. Fine-looking man your husband was. How long you been married?

Nine years.

Just about nine years.

Any other living relatives? Any children?

No.

Brothers, sisters, parents?

No.

Any previous marriage? No.

Why would you need to know that?

Oh, just, you know, routine stuff that goes on a death notice. Well, listen, I'll send you the picture back when I'm done with it. And, again, my condolences. Now, I'm wondering... Was I just face-to-face with a woman who murdered her husband? Well, after visiting the Epperson home, I go back to the college where Epperson taught chemistry. I look through his records, and then down to the county city building to paw through more records, and then back up to Beacon Hill up to the mortuary.

This is very upsetting news.

Yes, but just because Mrs.

Epperson is a lot younger than her husband.

Now, I grant you that by itself it's nothing, but her insisting his death was unexpected, that they hadn't done any planning.

And we know they had a coffin ready and waiting.

Yeah. All this and the secret burial, I'd almost say you ought to call the coroner's office and get him out here to take another look at the body. I'm afraid it's too late for that.

Well, I don't want the coroner out here. I don't want to be involved in anything sensational.

Well, then.

You're going to go ahead with the burial at midnight?

I don't see that we have any choice. I mean, you haven't any proof she killed him.

Well, if you like, I can spend a few more days digging for back... No, no, no, Mr.

Nile.

Dom is right. We have no choice. And, well, at $ 75 a day... Okay, I gotcha.

Well, you still get about six hours of my time before midnight, so, Mr. Tolan, I'd like you to take a ride with me.

A ride?

Well, I think we need to go to that little graveyard while it's still light. Don't you think? On the way, I get more news. Seems the widow Emerson says she isn't riding to the cemetery in the mortuary's limo. She's going in her own car. Davis and Toland are taking the coffin in the hearse, carrying it to the graveside, and then returning to the hearse and leaving Mrs. Emerson alone out there with the coffin for an hour before they go back and lower it into the ground. It's getting on towards twilight when we locate the little cemetery.

It's a bramble patch. Weeds are taller than the monuments. Groves of wild maple and alder have sprung up among the headstones.

Oh, it's cold out here.

What a disgrace to let this place.

Go to ruin. Yeah. So, where's the gravesite?

Look for a pile of freshly dug earths. Over there, over by the trees. There's a mound of something under a tarp. Yes, that would be it. Well, whoever dug it had the presence of mind to cover it. And yes, they've covered the grave too. So the grave is under this other tarp here on the ground.

Yes.

I'm going to check to see that it's been dug to the right size.

What do you think you're doing?

Oh, maybe he's the caretaker. I'm from the funeral home. We're inspecting the grave.

Here's a private property. Got some business here?

Well, as I said, I'm from the funeral home in Seattle, E.B.

Toland.

And this is Mr.

Nile.

I don't give a damn who you are. You're on private property.

People come up here from the city and think you can just walk anywhere you got an ocean to.

Hey, friend, there's going to be a burial here tonight. We came to see how the grave's been dug. It's been dug, true and deep.

And are you the caretaker?

Ain't any caretaker. I dug the grave.

Well, you did a nice job, too. Say, how did you happen to know the lady who hired you?

What lady?

Mrs. Epperson, the widow of the guy we're burying. Didn't she call you up this morning and hire you to dig the grave?

She didn't call this morning. She called last night. What's that to you?

I was just wondering how she knew to call you. I mean, where'd she get your name?

Someone wants a grave dug out here, I dig it.

And will you be here tonight to fill it in after the internment?

Well, no. I guess the dead guy ain't gonna do it.

Say, uh, you have a card or anything? We might like to hire you to dig some more graves.

Card? Ain't got no card. You want to get a hold of me, you call the tavern. They know how to find me.

Which tavern is that?

They only got one. It's here in New York City.

All right, and who do I ask for?

Name's Emery.

Emery?

That's right. Just ask for Emery.

Well, uh, okay, great. Uh, thanks. Uh, you seen enough, Mr. Toland?

Oh, yes, yes, quite enough.

Well, then, uh, We'll see you tonight, Emery. And you dig a nice grave. You really do. Toland and I locate the tavern. I go in and ask a few questions, and we drive back to Seattle and make our plans. Toland will drive the hearse with Epperson's body in it. Davis will follow, driving Mrs. Epperson in her own car.

But I don't tell Toland that Murphy and I will be out at the cemetery before any of them get there.

Some date.

You drive me halfway to North Dakota, and now we're sitting on someone's grave, and it's cold and wet, and I'm miserable.

It's not a date. I'm sorry. I had work to do. And you can be a big help. In about 15 minutes, they'll bring the coffin over here to where that mound of dirt is. And the morticians will leave Mrs. Epperson all by herself with the coffin.

Now, she wants to be.

Completely alone for an hour. And then the morticians will come back and they'll bury him. At some point during that hour, I may go on a little expedition with my flash camera while you watch everything Mrs. Epperson does. You got that?

So we're spying on the poor widow in her last hour with her husband, and you're going to take flash pictures?

Oh, I wish I'd never come.

Save your sympathies, Murphy. At last, there are headlights out on the road, and two cars pull up. Mine is well hidden, so nobody will know we're already here. Out by the road, a gasoline lantern is lit, and finally through the weeds comes the little funeral procession. Leading the way is a woman with the lantern. Behind her, Tolan and Davis with the coffin on their shoulders. They stop at the empty grave and lower the coffin to the ground.

Then the morticians pick their way back through the weeds to the road by flashlight.

Mrs.

Epperson watches them until she hears both doors of the hearse slam shut. Then she sets to work.

What is she doing?

Looks like she's working on the lid of the coffin, doesn't it?

Harry, she's trying to open it.

She sure is.

She's got the lid loose now. She's reaching into the coffin.

Oh, no.

Harry, someone's rising up out of the coffin.

Harry, where are you going?

Don't leave me here.

You stay hidden now, Murphy.

Who's there?

Who is that?

Emery?

Emery, is that you?

No, it's not Emery. Smile pretty for the camera, folks.

What do you think you're doing?

Who is it?

Just getting a picture for the paper, Mrs.

Epperson.

Oh, so it's you.

I know all about you. You're a private detective.

And I know all about you, too, Dolores. It is Dolores, isn't it? Dolores McNear, class of 46. And how you feeling, Professor Epperson? The drug beginning to wear off? It's close to midnight. That's how long this stuff's supposed to last, right? 24 hours?

Huh.

How'd you find out?

From the pharmacy lab at the college.

You used your emeritus card to check out two chemicals that can slow the heart rate to almost nothing and make you look dead. All right, everybody. Murphy, Mr. Toland, Tom, you can come on in now.

Mr.

Now.

You said a trap, Murphy?

What is going on here?

You want to explain it, Tom?

Me?

Explain what?

How you helped Doc Epperson and his girlfriend here.

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

Girlfriend?

You were a student of Dr. Epperson's in college.

So what if I was?

Well, you became close friends.

Is that some kind of crime?

Now, wait, wait, wait. Tom, if you've been a party to fraud, do you realize.

what the.

Oh, shut up, you old windbag.

Yes, I came to work here a couple of months ago so I could set this deal up. Then you hire this detective and everything blows up in one day.

And now, yeah, they'll get me for fraud.

Oh, I wouldn't worry about a fraud charge. Tom, what I'd worry about is the murder charge.

Murder?

Where is the real Mrs. Epperson, Tom?

Well, right here. This is Mrs. Epperson.

No, no, no.

This is Dolores McNear. She was a student of Epperson's and graduated in your class, so you can forget the baloney. Where is the real Mrs. Epperson, Tom? Did you kill her for your friend, the good professor? I had nothing to do with any killing. I want a lawyer. Well, then who did kill Mrs. Epperson?

Dolores?

I'm not saying another word.

Where is your wife, Dr. Epperson? Nothing to say? Okay, then I'll say it for you. You were having an affair with Dolores here. Your wife was in the way, so you mapped out a plan to kill her and embalm her in your basement. But then, what to do with the body? Ah, why not have it buried legally by an undertaker who thought he was burying you? And so you play dead long enough to get out here where Emery and Dolores help switch bodies. Your wife's disappearance becomes an unsolved mystery because you're legally dead and buried.

The only thing is... You'll need a mortician to help you. Now listen, I didn't know anything about him killing his wife.

I thought this was for the insurance.

Mr.

Nile, did you say that this man embalmed his own wife in their home?

That's right. The smell in your embalming room was the same smell I found in the Epperson's house this morning. Did you help Professor Epperson embalm his wife, Dolores?

Listen, I had nothing to do with any killing. All I did was call up an old friend of mine I knew when I was growing up out here.

Uh-huh, Emery.

Yes, and he took care of everything.

Including concealing Mrs. Epperson's body? The body you drove out here in your car last night? The body Emery hid? The body that's right now lying in this freshly dug grave? The body he was supposed to place in this coffin as soon as Epperson vacated it?

Mr.

Toland, you take Dolores with you. Murphy and I will chaperone Tom Davis. We'll meet the sheriff at the tavern. It's the only one in Fenton.

But Harry, why didn't the coroner realize Epperson really wasn't dead?

Oh, the coroner never saw Epperson. Davis never called him. Instead, Davis faked the death certificate. He had a stack of them to practice on. And the drug Epperson took wears off inside of 12 hours. That's why they specified burial no later than midnight. Their homemade wooden coffin had air holes so he wouldn't suffocate after they put the lid on.

And why the burial way out in that old cemetery?

Well, Fenton was coal mining town until the mine shut down about 40 years ago. Dolores lived here. She knew the ground under the graveyard is honeycombed with mine shafts. My guess is Emery dug a grave deep enough to break into one of the old mines. My further guess is that when they excavate, they're going to find a lot of missing bodies down there in the mine shafts. Courtesy, Emery.

Oh, boy. This was some date.

Murphy, it wasn't a date!

The Adventures of Harry Nile feature Phil Harper as Harry, at Pat French as Murphy. Funeral at Midnight starred Don Wells and Russell Johnson, with David Pichette and yours truly, Jay Green. Script by Jim French. Direction by Pat French. Sound effects created by Stuart Conway and Bruce Rogerson. Dialogue recording by Peggy Stokes. This program was recorded before a live audience in Seattle.

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