
Broadway Is My Beat: Murphy Wanted for Murder Radio Mystery A Wanted Man May Not Be the Killer
Donnerstag, 15. Oktober 2026 · 1 h 25
Kapitelklicken springt direkt hin
Shownotes
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!
Transkriptvom Podcast bereitgestellt · Zeitmarken springen hin
The Adventures of Harry Nile.
Hi, Mr.
Bales.
How's the trucking business?
Yeah, well, just trucking along.
Hey, you gents decided what you're going to have yet?
Uh, yeah, two eggs over easy, hash browns and bacon.
Same for me, Tom.
Oh, and keep the coffee coming.
Yeah, yeah, keep the.
Right, right, I gotcha.
All right, so, uh, makes you think he saw me.
He was hiding in the car, and he saw it.
Hiding?
Where?
In my garage?
Alley behind the garage. He said he saw you shoot Dorman.
He knew it was me?
I'm telling you, he knows.
One day, out in the exercise yard, we was talking about the guys down at City Hall, and Milo Dorman's name come up.
He says to me, Milo Dorman didn't shoot himself.
So I ask him who he thinks did it. And he says, I know who did it.
And I say, how do you know? And he says... Because I seen him do it. And then he tells me it was you.
What's this guy's name?
Sam.
Sam Annenberg.
But everybody calls him the Professor. Because he's smart or something. He's an old con. Been up the river two stretches.
On what raft?
Grand Theft.
And now he's out.
He was boat paroled the same day.
What sort of guy is he?
I don't know.
He keeps to himself a lot. Plays solitaire all day long.
I can't figure how he could have seen me. What was he doing hiding in the car? What car was it?
I tried to get it out of him, but he just sat there, turning over cards, playing solitaire.
Say, you boys want orange juice with your breakfast?
No, no, I don't. Me neither.
It's not canned stuff. It's fresh frozen. Have you ever tried it? It's just like fresh squeezed.
I told you no.
Just leave us alone. Well, sure.
How's the coffee holding out? Warm the bottom?
We'll let you know.
Okay.
Your order will be up in a minute.
Yeah, great.
Fine.
Hey, Ticky, you're all right here. You're a real stand-up guy, huh?
Oh, please, please.
Don't call me Ticky, Mr. Bales.
Okay.
From now on, it's Mr. Ticky. You like that?
I'll be right back, Ellie.
We've got to make a phone call.
Okay, I'll pick up your tips.
I should live so long. Operator, let me have the number for Harry Nile. That's Nile, like the river. N-I-L-E.
Yeah.
Yeah, he's a private investigator.
Harry and I'll investigations. Who's calling? Hey, Harry, it's someone named Penny from the doghouse.
Huh?
Oh, give it here. How you doing, Penny?
You said I should call you if I ever heard anything interesting. Well, I just heard something interesting.
Yeah?
I've got two customers here who are talking about the Milo Dorman suicide. There's a little guy named Ticky who just got out of prison. And Frank Bales. You know Frank Bales. And I just now heard him admit that he shot Dorman.
Frank Bales, the truck garage owner?
Nah.
Yeah.
Listen, I've got to get back on duty.
No, no, no.
Wait a minute. What did they say?
Well, the little guy, Ticky, just got sprung from prison. There was someone he called the Professor who was in prison with him, who said he saw Bales kill Dorman, and now the Professor is out on parole, and it sounds like Bales is pretty interested. I'd hate to be in that Professor's shoes.
How long do you think you can keep him there?
Well, their order will be up in a minute.
Okay, delay it, will you?
Can you?
Give me time to get down there?
I'll try.
They're sitting at the counter.
Harry, don't have another breakfast. It makes you sleepy all the rest of the day.
Harry?
Yeah?
Yeah?
Should I call the cops?
No, why bother the cops? I mean, they got their hands full of pinching jaywalkers or something.
I know you love their hash browns, Harry.
Murphy, just hold down the fort. She just heard Frank Bale say he killed Milo Dorman.
Who's that?
Dorman, the city comptroller who was caught embezzling city money and committed suicide. Remember, his wife hired me to investigate because she didn't think it was a suicide.
Are you still on that?
There's no time to talk now.
Let me put it another way, Harry. According to your check register, you have.
A balance of exactly $ 118. 37, and the office rent is four days overdue.
Okay, okay. Call you, Murphy.
Harry?
The morning sun climbs high into the Seattle sky, all the more appreciated for its rarity. But the weather is ignored by one man, still in his wool suit and felt hat, who climbs into his car never thinking to take the top down. and never noting the precarious state of his gas supply or his money supply.
One more day in.
The life of Harry Nile.
You just missed him.
Rats, where'd they go, you know?
I don't know.
They didn't finish their breakfast.
Mr.
Bales, he likes to eat hearty, but he hardly touched his hash browns. I think he was upset over what that other guy told him.
Do you think it's true that.
Bales killed Dorman?
I don't know yet. So, you know Frank Bales?
He eats here a lot.
Well, describe him for me, can you?
Oh, 45 maybe.
Dark, heavyset.
Not bad looking. Wears his hair slicked back.
What about the guy with him?
Ratty little guy.
Real thick glasses.
Maybe 5'6 and pale.
Stutters.
Bales calls him Ticky, but he didn't like to be called that.
I think his real name is Tickner or something like that.
I do know this Ticky or Tickner just got out of prison the same time the professor got his parole.
That's all I remember.
Say, you want some coffee?
No, no, no.
I'll take a rain check. Hey, thanks, Penny. I owe you one.
Promises, promises. Harry, why put it on a case that can't make you a dime?
Because when Milo Dorman's widow hired me to prove her husband didn't shoot himself but was murdered, I couldn't find a shred of evidence to that effect. There sure was plenty of evidence that Dorman had been stealing from the city on vehicle maintenance bills, inflating them, pocketing the difference.
And the city had a contract with Frank Bale's truck repair outfit. After they found Dorman's body in his car and back of Bale's garage, Bale's produced copies of his invoices. For over two years, Dorman had been marking up the charges. Bales claimed he never knew what was going on, so the D.A. figured Dorman knew he was about to be arrested for embezzlement. He went over to try to get Bales to lie for him, and Bales refused. Dorman gets back in his car and shoots himself. Only, uh, Mrs.
Dorman never believed he took his own life. She hired me to try to find evidence that he'd been murdered, but I never could do it. And now I'm hoping I can bring Mrs. Dorman better news. Pro bono?
Gratis?
Yeah.
On the house. Come on, it'll make me feel better.
I'll explain that to the landlord when he calls for his rent. Maybe that'll make him feel better, Harry.
Murphy, get me the warden over at the state pen in Walla Walla.
Walla Walla? That's long distance.
I know it's long distance. Just do it, will you? The warden fills me in on the guy called Ticky and the other guy called the professor. Ticky is Edward Tickner, whose specialty is burglary. And the same day Tickner finished his sentence, they paroled one Sam Annenberg, whose most recent con was selling non-existent real estate. I get forwarding addresses for both of them. But it was Annenberg, the professor, who interested me the most. The professor's address is a little gray shiplap house out near Rainier Beach on Lake Washington.
Yes?
Sam Annenberg?
Who's asking?
My name's Harry Nile.
What are you selling, Mr.
Niles?
I'm not selling anything.
Everyone is selling something.
Well, I thought maybe we might trade.
Oh, now, don't try to con a con man, Mr.
Niles.
No, I'm not. I know something you need to know. And I think you know something I need to know.
Who sent you? How did you know how to find me?
Your address is on public record at the state penitentiary. Can I come in?
Not until you tell me what it is you want to trade.
Your life. For some information.
How's this?
Your life. It's in danger, Professor.
All right. Come in.
Sit. You'll pardon me if I continue my game.
Solitaire?
Well, it helped me while away the hours.
Now I'm hooked.
I'm an obsessive compulsive, the psychologists call it.
Yeah, well, you may be a dead obsessive. What would you call that?
How so?
Well, you had a soulmate named Tickner?
So I did.
Well, he claims he heard you say that you know Milo Dorman didn't kill himself. And that you know who did.
Tickner was delusional. He belonged in Steilacoom, not.
In Walla Walla.
Well, I know one person who believes him. Frank Bales. This morning, over breakfast, Edward Tickner told Frank Bales that you saw Bales murder Dorman.
I see.
Now, just whom do you represent, Mr.
Nile?
Nobody.
Oh, come now.
No, no, no. I'm a private investigator. After Dorman's death, his widow hired me to prove he hadn't killed himself, and I failed. I'd just like to see justice done. That's all. I see.
Well, I'm afraid I can't help you, Mr.
Nile.
Well, I could protect you.
Don't be absurd.
I think Dorman was kicking back part of the money he was embezzling to Bales. He runs to Bales and begs him to phony up all the incriminating invoices to match his markups. Bales refuses, A doorman threatens to tell the police Bales is in on the scam. Bales kills him, makes it look like a suicide. Did you see him do it?
You've been taken in, Mr.
Nile.
By who?
By whom?
But no matter, did it occur to you that Eddie Tickner himself was setting up a con?
On who? On whom? On Bales.
On Bales. Tickner never heard me discuss anything about the Dorman case because I knew nothing about it.
Tickner could convince Bales that you did, and he might offer to shut you up for good.
Yes, he's fully capable of it. Tickner's a weasel. I detested him. He'd invent this cock and bull story to get Bales to fork over the killing money.
And you'd be just as dead, whether you really saw Bales commit murder or not.
Point well taken.
Look, there's a woman in Seattle who lost a husband she loved a lot. She had to accept that he embezzled money. But it's very important to her to know that her husband didn't take his own life. If you could just.
Impossible? Impossible, out of the question.
Look, will you stop with those cards for a minute? She doesn't even need to know who you are. She just needs to know her husband didn't... You're on a fool's errand, Mr.
Nile.
Do you suppose I would place my life in jeopardy To soothe the tender feelings of a woman I don't even know? If you think that, then I have some Florida real estate I'd like to sell you.
How does it make you feel knowing that a murderer is loose out here in society, living free as a bird, and you hold the key to getting justice done? I guess you're too smart. Too smart to do something square and honest for once in your life. Well, I'm real sorry I interrupted your cards. Go on back to your solitaire.
Uh.
Mr.
Nile, do you think Frank Bales will send Eddie Tickner to kill me?
I wouldn't sell you much life insurance.
Well, then I would like to hire you as my bodyguard. And I can pay, Mr.
Nile.
Before my visit to Walla Walla, I was quite successful in real estate. Would $ 1, 000 assure my safety?
The thing I've got to do is convince Sam Annenberg to tell me what he saw on the night of Milo Dorman's death. and then get him to the district attorney. But if the DA buys the story, there'd be a grand jury and a ton of publicity, and Solitaire Sam would have to testify. So if anyone wanted to bump him off, they'd have plenty of opportunity. At the very least, I want Sam to tell Milo Dorman's widow that her husband wasn't a suicide, but he refuses to budge. So I take the next step and call on Eddie Tickner to find out if Bales has already given him the contract on Sam. Eddie's address is a little rented room in an old ramshackle house downwind from the steel plant.
I find him out in the postage stamp of a backyard with his shirt off, lying in a canvas lounge chair. You getting rid of that prison pallor, Ticky?
Huh?
Who are you?
Take off the shades. You can see me better.
I can't beat you out.
Here, come closer.
Any better?
I've never seen you before.
What do you want?
Got yourself a job yet? I guess not. Pretty hard to find work when you're a con. You don't look too worried. Maybe you're going to come into a nice little sum of money, huh?
Say, who are you, anyway?
I'm a friend. You didn't know you had.
Look, if you've got something to say, just say it, okay? Then get lost.
Okay. Well, let's say you've just given a piece of information to a friend, and this friend hires you to make sure that that information goes no farther.
Go on.
So you take care of it. Now, where there were three people who knew this information, now there are only two. But that's still one too many for your friend.
So?
So. Think it through, Ticky.
Don't call me Ticky.
All right. Edward, at the same moment you put Sam Annenberg's head in the noose, you did the exact same thing to your own head. If Solitaire Sam knows Bales killed Dorman and you heard Sam say so, both of you are a threat to Frank Bales.
Look, how do you know so much about this?
Because I'm the invisible man. Never mind how I know. I'm here to keep you alive. The first thing you have to do is make sure Frank Bales can't find you. And the second thing you have to do is let me take you to the district attorney.
Are you out of your mind?
No.
I'm giving you your only chance to stay alive. Has Bales paid you to hit Sam yet? No. When does he want you to do it?
Soon.
Say, who are you? I'm a private investigator named Harry Nile.
A P.I.? I've been blabbing to a P.I.? Who are you working for?
Let's say it's a little unfinished business for a nice lady. Now put your shirt on. The Harry Nile Taxi Service is going to deliver you safe and sound into the arms of the law.
The law?
Huh.
You mean into the arms of Frank Bale?
No, not if our timing is right. Now, come on. We haven't got all day.
All right, all right, for crying out loud. Let me get my regular glasses. I can't see two feet without them.
So Eddie Tickner sits in the back seat. I make one detour on the way to the D.A. It's a little gray shack down at Rainier Beach. You go ahead and drive, Professor. You expect me to drive? Will you kindly tell me?
Tickner, what are you doing here?
Hello, P-P-P.
Professor.
I see. I see it all now, Niall.
What a fool I've been.
You're working for this weasel.
Hey, hey. You've located me for him, and now he'll kill me.
No one's going to get killed. We're on our way downtown. When you're going to file a deposition on what you saw the night of Milo Dorman's death.
I saw nothing the night of Milo Dorman's death. I never spoke to you, Tickner. I hated the sight of you.
Ah, you're lying, Sam.
He's lying.
Go ahead, Professor. I'm sitting in back to keep hold of Tickner. You drive us downtown.
I don't know how to drive.
Huh?
You don't?
I'm from New York City, so I never learned how to drive.
Huh.
Okay, okay. We've got to get the two of you separated. Come on, everybody, get out. I'll sit back with the professor. You drive, Tickner.
You've got to be kidding. With my eyesight, I can barely go walking.
Oh, now, isn't that interesting? Neither one of you can drive a car, but one of you witnessed Frank Bales murder a guy while you sat in a car in Bales' repair garage. Why were you in a car? How did you get there?
Look, it wasn't me, okay? So help me.
Yes, it was one of you, wasn't it? Whichever one of you it was, you had to have ridden there with someone else, right? Who could that have been?
Well, I had sold Milo some property in Florida.
Milo Dorman?
Yes.
He promised me the money for weeks and never came up with it. Finally, he agreed to drive me over to a place where he said he was owed a large sum of cash. It was Bale's garage. He told me to wait in the car while he went in the office. And pretty soon, Dorman came out onto the shop floor with Bale. They argued. Bale's pulled a gun, put it against Dorman's head, and, oh, Lord, it was horrible.
I fled, of course.
The next thing I knew, the paper's full of Milo Dorman's suicide.
And you'll tell that to the D.A.
I suppose so.
How are you going to keep us safe from Bales?
If the police did what they said they'd do, Bales is already down at headquarters. After they hear Sam's story, he'll be held without bail. Like I say, timing is everything.
The Adventures of Harry Nile feature Phil Harper as Harry, with Pat French as Murphy. In tonight's story, Solitary Sam, Tickner was played by Richard Sanders. Sam was Norm Bobrow. Bales was played by Terry Rose. And Susan Hutchison was the waitress. The program was directed by Pat French. Script and production by Jim French. Sound by Stuart Conway and Bruce Rogerson. Dialogue recording mixed by Peggy Stokes. This program was recorded before a live audience in Seattle. Jay Green speaking.
The Adventures of Harry.
Nile Director Brown, we'll see you now.
Dr.
Brown? Mr.
Nile.
Yeah, it's me.
Oh, thank you so much for coming. I'm Cedric Brown.
Come right in.
Um, no calls, please, Nancy.
Oh, sure.
And would you like a cup of coffee, Mr.
Nile?
Uh, no, no, no. Thanks all the same.
Well, how about you, Dr.
Brown?
Uh, no, Nancy, thank you.
Well, if you need anything, just buzz me.
Lovely, uh, young lady.
Yes, is she?
I've never been in a.
And we hope to keep it that way. That's why I called you. Please, sit down.
Oh, thanks. Okay, now tell me about these assaults, Dr.
Brown.
Three of our staff have been attacked. One a week for the past three weeks. It can't be a coincidence. Someone is after the faculty.
Well, why would someone be after the faculty?
I haven't the slightest idea.
How were they attacked?
Well, first there was Harold Carlson.
He's a teacher here?
Piao and Organ. Someone broke into his house and dripped melted candle wax all over the keyboard of his Bosendorfer. At first he thought it was just senseless vandalism.
Wait a minute, what's a Bosendorfer?
A concert piano. Magnificent instrument.
And the police were called?
Well, of course, but what could they do? Nothing. And a week later, Claire Elliott. She teaches music theory and someone knocked her down while she was getting into her car right out here on the street.
She get a look at the guy?
No, it was dark. He just hit her and ran.
Any witnesses?
No.
And the police?
They came and asked questions and went away.
And then you say there's been a third assault?
Right here in the building. Someone threw a brick through a downstairs window. It missed Dr. Girev's head by inches.
Girev?
Serge Girev, cello. The brick was thrown with such force that it sailed clear across the room and shattered a blackboard.
Wait a minute, and brought? daylight?
No, no, before dawn, 6.30. Professor Girov comes in early.
And of course, he reported it.
Yes, yes, the police came out and took the brick away. Mr. Nile, the reason I'm asking you to help us here is the police don't see this the way I do. They think it's just some disgruntled student with a grudge. I think... It's a psychopath, and I think he's working up to murder.
¶ ¶.
It is January 1952 in Seattle. The days are short and the nights are long. Crime increases under cover of this long darkness. And in the symbiotic relationship between criminal and detective, both are busier in the dark months.
Oh, Harry, you're back. You had two phone calls. Here are the call slips.
Thanks, Marge.
Are you expecting a long-distance call?
No.
Why?
Well, you just got a message from an operator. Her number's there on one of the call slips. Harry, don't just shove them in your pocket.
You always forget to read them.
Well, the dry cleaner always finds them and saves them for me, and this suit's due for cleaning.
You are impossible.
Well, at least improbable.
Harry, what's happening at the Corinthian School of Music?
Well, they told me they think there's a mad, piano-waxing, lady-pushing brick-thrower on the loose.
What?
Well, three music teachers have been attacked, and the head of the school thinks there's a vendetta against the faculty.
But why?
I don't know yet. First thing I need to do is round up these three teachers and get their stories while you get Dr. Brown to give you a list of all of his students and their grades for the past year. Can do?
Can do.
And give me the lowdown on Brown, will you? There's something going on between him and his secretary, a dish named Nancy. And then we're going back to school. You play an instrument, Murphy?
Mm-hmm.
The flute.
Yeah?
Huh.
I'm musical, too, you know.
Oh?
What do you play?
Poker.
Mr. Nile, this is Harold Carlson.
Hi.
This is my assistant, Murphy. How do you do? Welcome to my little office.
I'm sorry there aren't enough chairs.
Oh, I could bring my chair if you like.
Could you do that, Nance?
No, that's fine. We'll just stand.
Um.
Let's see. Now, you were the first victim, right? The candle wax on the piano, January 4th, right? That's right. Tell me about it.
Will you be wanting anything else?
No, no, Nancy.
Thank you very much.
Okay, go on.
Well, I'd just come home, and as soon as I got in the house, I noticed the smell of burning candles.
Well, I knew I hadn't lit any candles, but... You live alone. Nobody else in the house. That's right.
I'm a bachelor.
And then you saw the piano with wax melted on it.
Yes, it's dribbled all over the keys.
No other damage? No, not a thing that I could find. I suppose the police took the candle.
Well, there wasn't any candle, just the wax.
Whoever did it took the candle with him.
How'd they get in?
Oh, well, the back door, probably. On Tuesdays and Fridays, I leave my back door unlocked for the milkman.
Who else knows about your back door? You ever have students over at your house? Oh, yes.
I used to give lessons in my home until I was nominated to the Board of Governors, that is.
Board of Governors. What's that?
Three of our faculty serve on the board.
Dr.
Carlson is one of them.
Yes, it's a great honor, but it leaves no time for private students.
So did any of your students know about the back door being unlocked two days a week? No. Well, I'm sure not.
Why would they?
Well, let me have a list of students, Murphy.
Here, Harry.
Now, these are the students you've taught here at Corinthian in the last year. Were there any who might have had a grudge against you? Well, I thought about that.
I only flunked one student, and she moved out of state shortly after she quit the school.
That's this Florence Brady, is that right? Yes.
She moved down to San Francisco.
Murphy, try to find out if she could have been up here on January 4th.
Will do.
Anyone else from the school, Dr. Carlson, who might be aware that your house is unlocked two days a week?
No.
No, certainly not. Okay. Well, thanks, Dr. Carlson. We'll be in touch. All right, now, who was the second victim?
Uh, Professor Elliott. She's waiting in her office.
Oh, forget the professor. Claire will do fine.
You caught me goofing off with the crosswords.
I'm stuck on this one.
Eleven letters meaning rapture.
Uh, if we could talk about your attacker, Professor? Did someone knock you down while you were opening the door to your car? Is that right?
That's right. I got my lumps January the 11th, about 6.15 p.m.
And you were parked out in front?
Well, down at the end of the block.
Were you aware someone was nearby? No.
I had my arms full of papers, taking them home to grade them, and I had just gotten my car unlocked when somebody grabbed me by the shoulders and just threw me down to the ground. Had to be pretty muscular to do that to a girl my size, right?
So he came up from behind you? make a grab for your purse?
No, he didn't do a thing except just throw me down to the ground. Of course, my papers just flew every which way, and I was afraid they'd blow away, so I started scrambling around trying to gather them all up, so I never got a real good look at him.
These test papers, was it an important test?
It was the first counterpoint exam, yes, it was important.
Ah, this could have been one of your students, maybe a poor student, worried about grades?
Oh, no, not at all. Whoever this was was a big person. Besides, my students aren't violent people.
Did you get hurt?
Oh, I wrenched my shoulder, lost a good pair of nylons.
I guess I was lucky it wasn't worse.
You sure were. Okay, well, we'll be in touch.
Nice meeting you, Professor. Oh, and, uh, Professor, try delactation.
Huh?
11 letters, meaning rapture.
And this is Professor Serge Giroff. Serge, tell these people what happened.
This close to my head.
It goes by ear.
Whoosh!
The brick?
Through window behind head. Glass all over everything.
It's blackboard. See, look. What would you do? Jump up, run to corner of room. And you didn't look out the window to see who threw it?
Who can see?
Black is midnight outside.
It happened at 6.30 in the morning.
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.
And this was on.
January the 18th, a week ago tomorrow.
Well, who do you think did it, Professor Giroff?
Who would know?
Everybody loved Giroff.
Harry, this is a homicide division. We don't investigate bricks through windows. Unless they kill somebody.
I'm trying to prevent a killing, Dutcher. Three different incidents, each one week apart on a Friday, each one more violent than the next.
And each one with a different M.O.
You've got no reason to think the guy who decorated the piano with candle wax was the same guy who knocked the gal down on the street or the guy who tossed the brick through the window.
But all three victims teach at Corinthian School of Music. Doesn't that tell you something?
Yeah, there's three mischievous kids up to no good. Mischief isn't murder, Harry.
Dutcher, can't you see there's a pattern here? Put a plainclothes team around Corinthian for 48 hours. If it is one guy and he goes active again, it could be tomorrow. He's raising the stakes. Next time he strikes, he could kill someone. But Dutcher calls it vandalism. So over supper that night at Osterman's rooming house, Murphy and I see how far we can cover Corinthian by ourselves.
Harry, let me help.
I can hide out and watch for crooks. Well, thanks anyway, Mr. Osterman, but if there's going to be a fourth attack, it could be on any of the teachers at Corinthian. There are 15 of them.
Oh, I located Florence Brady, Professor Carlson's student that he flunked.
Yeah?
And she has an alibi for the day of the break-in at Carlson's house. She was having her wisdom teeth pulled on January 4th. And I called the dentist in San Francisco and he confirmed it.
Okay. Any other students who'd have it in for faculty members? Dr.
Brown doesn't think so.
On Fridays, always he comes to bad person? Yes, sir. Tomorrow's Friday the 25th. You know, I'll bet he.
Has a day job, and that could be why he only strikes in the dark.
Yeah, well, that could make sense. Listen, I got to run.
Where are you going?
Well, I just thought of a couple of things I need to clear up with Dr. Brown. I'm sorry to be calling on you at this late hour, Dr.
Brown.
Just a minute. Come in. I wasn't in bed. I couldn't sleep. Can I get you something?
A coffee?
No, no, no, no, no, no. Save it.
Listen, Dr.
Brown, tell me more about this board of governors that Harold Carlson serves on. Who else is on it?
Good Lord.
Of course.
Why on earth didn't I see it?
Claire Elliott and Professor Giroff are the other two, right?
Yes.
Yes.
Of course.
So the vendetta is against the Board of Governors.
Okay, now what does this board do?
Well, it runs the school. They approve the curriculum and the expenditures.
How about salaries?
Yes, yes, they approve all the salaries. Oh, and members of the board draw a small extra stipend for their services.
Uh-huh. Well, how do you get on the board?
They're elected.
Who can vote? Well, everyone.
Students as well as faculty.
When was the last board election?
In November. Uh, excuse me. Who could that be at this hour?
Hello?
Hello?
What the.
Hello.
Well, if that isn't the strangest thing.
Well, what? There was no one there.
Just a cord. Someone struck a chord on a piano.
What kind of chord?
I don't know.
A common chord. Sounded like a C7. Here, I'll play it for you. That's a C7.
What?
A C7. A dominant seventh chord in the key of F.
C7.
C7.
Office this morning. What? Yeah, Murphy took this down.
C7.
Can I use your phone?
Of course.
Who besides Carlson and Miss Elliott and Giroff know that you hired me?
Everyone.
I hold a faculty morning meeting. I told everyone on the staff.
Okay, now I need names, addresses, and phone numbers of every teacher.
Right, I have a copy somewhere here. I'll get it for you.
Hello, Murphy? Hey, listen, what did the guy who called you sound like? Oh, it was. Well, what time did the call come in? Oh, yeah, you did write it down. 1045, huh? Okay, listen, I'm going back down to the office as soon as I leave here, and I'm going to need some help.
Here's the faculty list. What did the caller sound like?
Well, it was a woman. She told Murphy I was to call Operator C-7. It's two hours before midnight, and now I know I'm up against someone who's planned a whole strategy of terror against the school. As soon as I get down to the office, I call Dutcher again.
Believe it or not, Harry, homicide cops require a couple of hours of sleep every so often, just like you civilians.
Now what do you want?
Thatcher, I think I got this deal almost figured out.
You still messing around with the pranks up at the music school?
Pranks? Sometime in the next 24 hours, someone's going to get injured or killed by the next prank. I've got 11 names. One of them is the next target, and one of them's the perp. And all of them are suspects.
And I told you, Harry, the Seattle Police Department can't afford a whole detachment of detectives unless the mayor says so.
The mayor?
The mayor?
Why didn't I think of that? We've got a new mayor. Been in office just since January 1st. Do I dare roust him at 10.30 at night?
Oh, well, I'd like to.
Help you, Mr.
Nile, but of course I want to prevent a crime. But, well, you're a private detective, you say?
I'd jump in in a minute if the chief has, but why don't you get his okay on this?
The clock is ticking away. It's 10.40. Murphy!
I'm sorry to be late. I stopped to get you some coffee and a donut.
Boy, am I glad to see you. Call up the weather bureau, will you? Ask them what the weather was like on the afternoon of January 11th. Raining. You remember that for a fact?
January? In Seattle?
Just call the weather bureau and make sure.
They said it rained an inch in Seattle on January 11th between 6 a.m.
And midnight. Oh, and while you were out, I called the phone company. There is no operator C7.
Yeah, that figures. Okay, let's look at this list of the teachers at Corinthian School of Music.
Then what did C7 mean, Harry?
It's a musical chord. Oh, sure.
Dominant 7. Wait, wait, is that a clue?
Someone's playing games with us. Now, on this list of teachers, let's check all the women. Okay. Hmm.
Except for Claire Elliott, all the teachers at Corinthian are men.
Claire Elliott was one of the victims, so who... The secretary. Who?
Nancy, Dr. Brown's secretary.
Come on, you think she's big enough to knock a gal the size of Claire Elliott to the ground?
Well, she could have had her boyfriend do it.
What boyfriend? Why? What's her motive?
Jealousy.
Maybe Carlson broke off their love affair, so she tells her new boyfriend to go out.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute. Where are you getting this soap opera?
Well, it could happen.
Doesn't explain the attack on the Russian.
I Hey, I didn't say it was perfect.
Okay, that's okay.
Keep thinking. See if you can think why a dominant 7 chord would somehow be significant.
You mean dominant 7th. Okay, 7th. C, E, G, E flat.
What's that?
The notes on a dominant 7th chord. In the key of F, it would be C, E, G, and B flat. C, E, G.
Carlson, Elliot, Giroff, C, E, and G. The attacker hit his victims in the order of the notes in a dominant seventh chord. That's what C7 meant on the call slip. That's why someone played a dominant seventh chord over the phone to Dr. Brown.
Oh, Harry, you're brilliant.
What's that last note in the chord?
B flat.
B flat, B flat, B flat. Brown, Cedric Brown in his flat.
His apartment.
Murphy, call Brown. Tell him to get out of his apartment right away and to come over here and bring all of his keys.
I came as fast as I could. What's all this about, Mr. Nile?
Don't take your coat off. We're going to go to school, and then we're going to go back to your apartment. Murphy, you call Dutcher. Tell him I'm going to need plainclothes backup at Dr. Brown's apartment and no marked cars. You got that?
But what if he doesn't believe me, Gary?
Then tell him he'll finally have a homicide to investigate.
Well, we made it.
It's just before midnight.
Okay, now just keep the lights off. I want it to look like you've gone to bed.
Well, why do you think they'll try it at midnight?
What do you expect, Santa Claus? Let me in.
Close the door. Dr. Brown, this is Lieutenant Dutcher. How do you do? I, uh, hope you weren't spotted.
Nah, I was sitting out of the car for 15 minutes.
Nobody around. So, what's the setup? Well, any time after midnight, someone's going to try to get in this apartment and murder Dr. Brown. That is, if my theory holds water.
Yeah, you and your theories.
Uh, gentlemen, the radium dial on my watch says it's midnight right now.
Okay, okay. Dutch, you park yourself in the closet there, and I'll be over here behind the couch. Uh, Dr. Brown, you go in the bedroom.
Listen, someone has a key.
Okay, places, everyone.
Rick? Cedric?
Are you asleep?
Who is it?
It's me. Who do you think? Don't be frightened. I remember I still had a key. Oh, don't turn the light on.
I like it dark.
What are you doing here, Claire?
I was so worried about you.
Worried?
I guess you never figured out the puzzle.
The C7 puzzle? Carlson, myself, Gerard, and then you. You had every chance, Ricky. Every chance.
But now, it's too late.
Okay, lady, drop it. Police, drop the gun. Get the lights, Harry.
What were you doing with a gun?
Oh, Rick.
Then you had protection after all. That's why I came over to loan you this gun.
I'm afraid not, Professor Elliott.
But I was one of the victims.
I was knocked down in the street.
Yeah, so you said. You said you dropped all those exam papers on the ground when you were hit.
That's right.
It had been raining all January 11th. If those papers had hit the street, they'd be wrinkled and brittle by now. We looked at them tonight. They've never been wet. Nah, you staged that attack to divert suspicion.
Rick, tell him he's wrong.
You and Dr. Brown had once been lovers, am I right, Dr. Brown? Well, we were, uh, quite close. Yeah, so close you gave her a key. So close she expected you to marry her someday. But instead, what happened?
Instead, he stole Nancy away from Carlson. Carlson's the one who's been doing all this. Carlson did it.
Harold Carlson.
No, Claire. You're the puzzle lady. You're the one who called my office. You're the one who laid out the clues to prove you're smart enough to get away with it.
I wasn't going to hurt anyone.
I would never hurt anyone the way I've been hurt all my life.
All my life. All my life.
The Case of the Dominant Seventh featured Phil Harper as Harry and Pat French as Murphy, with Richard Brestoff, James Ingersoll, Anita Jesse, Terry Rose, Larry Buck, Karen Anderson, and yours truly, Jay Green. Written and produced by Jim French and directed by Pat French. Sound created by Bruce Rogerson and Ben Peterson.
Mixing by Peggy Stokes. This program was recorded before a live audience. This is Jay Green speaking. The Adventures of Harry Nile.
What is he going.
To do to me? Are they going to take me?
At six o'clock on a Saturday night, I get a call from my gal pal, Murphy. Murphy, the bookworm who wants to be a detective. Murphy, my helper on dozens of cases. But now it's. Murphy who needs help. She's being held for questioning in the death of a Seattle matriarch. And by the time I hear about it, they've taken her down to Central Police Headquarters.
Is this your attorney?
No, he's my friend. Thanks for coming, Harry. I know it's Saturday night and all that.
Harry Nile.
Nile, the private eye?
Yeah, just like in the movies.
Parwood, homicide.
Glad to meet you. Now, what is all this?
Well, I just have some questions to ask Mr. Murphy here in connection with the death of Georgette Lamson.
What, the society, Dane?
Yeah.
What would Murphy know about her? How do you know Mrs.
Lamson?
I read to her.
I volunteer at the nursing home.
I would like to ask the questions, if you don't mind, Mr.
Norris.
Yeah, yeah, sure. Go ahead.
Now, how long have you been.
Is she a suspect?
What?
Is Murphy a suspect or a witness?
Right now, she's a person of interest.
You got a lawyer, Murphy?
No.
You want me to get you one?
Do I need a lawyer?
That wouldn't be a bad idea.
What do they cost?
No, no, don't worry about it.
Now, if you want a lawyer and you can't afford one, the city will provide.
Oh, come on, forget that. I got a good guy. Let me give him a call. Hold off the questions for a while, will you, Harwood? Can I use your phone?
Be my guest. I don't go on overtime for another 20 minutes.
Uh, how do I get outside?
Dial nine. So, Miss Murphy, you're a volunteer at this, uh, nursing home where Mrs. Lamson lived?
Just on Saturday. Harwood, come on, no questions till we get a lawyer, okay?
Now, that wasn't a question, Niles. That was conversation.
You don't have to talk to anyone without a lawyer, Murphy.
But I don't mind talking.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, but I mind.
Everybody in town thinks they're a lawyer.
All I'm saying is... Okay, now wait a minute. It's ringing, okay?
Okay.
Harry, I don't have anything to hide.
No, of course you haven't.
I was scared when the police car came and took me down here, but now I'm mostly angry.
Yeah, well, I don't blame you.
Talk about being at.
The wrong place at the wrong time. I always read to Mrs. Lamson on Saturdays.
Hello, Phil? It's Harry Nile. Get you to bedtime?
Oh, great.
Now, listen. Murphy's down here at headquarters and they... No, police headquarters, and they want to ask us... Murphy! You know Murphy, the brains of the operation? Queen Anne Branch, Scotland Yard? Yeah, the redhead, right. Okay, now here's the deal. She needs a lawyer down here while they question her. Now, can you run down here and sit in on it? Oh, that's great. No, no, terrific. See you in 15 minutes.
You'll be here in 15 minutes.
Excuse me.
Yeah?
They said it'd be all right if I came up and gave you my name.
Mr.
Carroll!
Is one of you gentlemen Mr.
Harwood?
That's me. What can I do for you? I'm James Carroll, the director of Hillside Home, where Mrs. Lamson was a resident. I just returned from Spokane and heard about Mrs. Lamson's death.
Uh-huh.
And when they told me the police had come and taken Miss Murphy away, I was just... Well, this is just a terrible mistake. Miss Murphy is one of our most reliable volunteers.
Oh, thank you, Mr.
Carroll. We've never had a breath of scandal at Hillside.
Never.
I don't think I've met this gentleman. You're not a reporter, are you?
I'm a friend of Murphy's. Harry Nile.
How do you do? And we screen all our help very carefully. Only the best people work at Hillside Home. Now, Mrs. Lamson had been ill, and she was very far along in years. These things happen. Yeah, yeah. Well, thanks a lot for coming by, Mr.
Carroll.
Miss Murphy, if there's anything we can do for you, I do want to help in any way I can, officer. But I'd appreciate it if the press.
Weren't called in.
That's out of my hands.
Oh, yeah, of course.
Well, I just wanted to go on record. Okay, duly noted. Yes. Now, we'd like to get on with our work, if you don't mind.
Oh, certainly.
Well, chin up, Miss Murphy. Nice to have met you, gentlemen, under such sad circumstances. Okay, now, where were we?
Can I have a word with you in private, Harwood?
Okay.
Okay. Okay, that's fine. You got something the matter with your back there?
Well, I put up my kid's basketball hoop this morning and.
You tried Sloan's liniment? Yeah, Sloan's.
He's going to have to go see the bone cracker, I guess. Now, what do you want to talk about?
Well, I was just wondering, why do you think the Lamson Dam was murdered?
This is an open investigation. I can't give out details.
I know. I just thought maybe I could save you a little effort.
When the lawyer shows up, I'll get into that.
Well, look, you're not going to charge her tonight.
Probably not. Depends on what she tells me and what the prosecutor thinks. He could file a complaint based on my write-up. Probably not until Monday, though.
So you won't detain her?
Like I say, that depends.
Look, I don't know what happened to Mrs. Lampson, but I do know that Murphy had nothing to do with it.
Yeah, well, you're right about one thing.
Oh, what's that?
You don't know what happened to Mrs.
Lampson.
Under the glare of fluorescent light sits a woman, marinating in the smoke of half-stubbed cigarettes from every desk in an overheated room. A woman now staring into the bottomless depths of a future, suddenly gone as black as the cold coffee in a cop's cup. Men in shirt sleeves and suspenders with guns on their hips walk past and show no interest. Someone tells a joke in a corner.
It is all frighteningly strange to Murphy. But the sights, sounds, and smells are familiar territory to the ex-cop gone private. who now turns and walks back to offer what comfort he can, which is not much.
Not yet. Not from Harry Nile. So we cool our heels in the SPD, waiting for Phil Paulson, the lawyer. 7.15 or so, he shows up in a three-piece tweed suit and a briefcase. Phil dresses like a lawyer even on Saturday night. Homicide Detective Harwood takes us into a little interrogation role.
All right, everyone cozy? Shall we get started?
Go right ahead, Mr. Harwood.
Okay.
Miss Murphy, how long have you been a volunteer at Hillside Home?
Three months.
Do you work with any other patients?
No, only with Mrs. Lampson.
Why is that?
Well, they assigned me to be a reader. I guess because I work in the library, they thought... Okay, okay.
Now, what were you doing with Mrs. Lampson today?
I was reading her Alice Adams by Booth Tarkington.
That's all you do? Read to her?
Oh, and we talk.
Was Mrs. Lampson blind?
Yes.
She had a room to herself at the nursing home, and nobody shared it with her?
That's right.
So when you were reading to her, you were completely alone? Yes.
But people would go in and out.
Oh, they can, but.
So all the time you read to Mrs. Lamson, nobody came into the room?
Not that I can remember.
And was she in bed?
No.
No, she was in her chair by the window.
Do you remember what Mrs. Lamson was wearing?
Lounging pajamas, a robe, a bed jacket, and gloves.
She always wore gloves.
Her hands were always cold. And she wore slippers and heavy wool stockings.
What about jewelry?
Oh, yes, yes. She would insist on wearing her jewelry.
What was she wearing today?
Do you remember?
Well, a necklace. A pearl necklace. And a diamond brooch that was pinned to her bed jacket. And earrings. Diamond earrings.
Now, what would you say all that stuff was worth?
Wait a minute, Mr.
Harwood.
Miss Murphy isn't in a position to judge the value of jewelry.
No, I'm just asking for her opinion, Counselor. Is the jewelry missing? When Mrs. Lampson was found dead, she was wearing no jewelry.
So you're accusing me of stealing?
No one is accusing you of anything as of right now.
Did Mrs.
Lampson seem unwell to you?
Well, she was 90 years old, and she couldn't see or walk or feed herself.
I mean, did she seem sick?
No.
She wasn't showing any sign of distress?
No.
When did you leave her today? At 11.30.
Okay.
I usually read to her from 9 to noon every Saturday, and sometimes I stay and feed her lunch, but, well, today I didn't.
I left at 11.30. Why?
Oh, the orderly had to strip her bed and put on new sheets or something. He said I was to leave at 11.30, so there'd be time for him to.
Do that before lunch.
Anyone see you leaving?
Mabel. I said goodbye to Mabel at the nursing station.
So you were alone with Mrs. Lampson for two and a half hours?
Yes.
Completely alone? Nobody else came in while you were there?
I think she already answered that.
Cool down, Mr.
Paulson.
She's not on trial, and there's no judge or jury in this room.
Yes, well, have you told Miss Murphy whether she is under suspicion for some crime or other?
Well, I'll spell it right out for her. Miss Murphy, I am investigating an apparent case of larceny and homicide, and you are a prime suspect. Clean enough for you?
The questions go on for half an hour. Finally, Harwood turns her loose after advising her and Paulson that she's got to stay in the state and let them know her whereabouts. I take her out for a hamburger, but she doesn't eat. None back up Queen Anne Hill to her house. Your landlord, Mr. Osterman, is wringing his hands.
Where have you been, Miss Murphy? They came with the paper. What are you talking about? The police, the police are coming. Of what?
The police?
The police were here?
Oh, that means room. They went into my room? With the paper?
They went into Murphy's room with the paper? A search warrant? We hurry on in, and sure enough, Murphy's room looks like a cyclone hit it. Oh, no!
How could they?
When did this happen?
About 6.30, I think.
Come on, Murph. I hope you straighten this up.
And I hope too, yeah?
The evening drags by. I spend most of it consoling Murphy and Osterman, baked strudel, non-stop. But she still jumps when the phone rings. And at 10 o'clock, I say goodnight. But just as I get to the door, there's a knock. Detective Harwood?
I'm sorry, I've come to get Miss Murphy. Is she here?
Yeah, sure, she's here.
Who is it, Harry?
Miss Murphy, I have here a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Mrs. Georgette Lansing.
They take Murphy downtown. I call Phil Paulson. We meet her for the indignities of the booking process. Clothing search, photographs, fingerprinting, receipts for her belongings, and an ugly smock to wear.
She might get her initial court appearance Monday, but she might not.
That's... I hate to think of her in the Graybar Hotel, even for one night.
Any chance of you checking some of the staff at the nursing home?
I'm going to rattle some cages over there first thing tomorrow morning. But the next morning's Sunday, and the people I want to see have the day off. But I get addresses, and I start down the list. First, Mabel, the nurse on duty when the murder occurred.
I think I told everything I know to the police, but sure, I'll help if I can.
Well, how long would you say Mrs. Lampson was alone in her room after Murphy left at 1130? I don't really know. Well, who found her dead? Eugene did.
He's an orderly.
He went in to change Mrs. Lampson's bedclothes, and he found her.
Uh-huh. And what did you do?
Well, I rushed in and checked her.
But, of course, it was too late.
And was that when you noticed her jewelry was missing?
Frankly, I didn't notice that. I had to call the authorities, and that was what was on my mind, I guess.
Well, Mabel, now I want you to think very carefully. Who, besides the orderly, went into Mrs. Lamson's room after Miss Murphy left it?
No one.
And you're sure?
Oh, I'm very sure. I really think Miss Murphy was the last person to see Mrs.
Lamson alive.
Next, I hunt down Eugene, the orderly. I find him coming out of church.
Hey, I gotta get home.
I gotta help make lunch.
You got a car? No, I just live a couple of blocks away. All right, well, I'll walk with you. Now, Eugene, I want you to clear something up for me. When did you go into Mrs. Lamson's room to change the bedclothes?
Oh, just about noon.
But you told Miss Murphy that she had to be out of there half an hour earlier, at 11.30.
No, I didn't.
I never told her that. You didn't? You sure?
No, I always go change the linens in Mrs. Lampson's rooms at 12 noon.
Why's that?
Well, I got a schedule, see, and Lampson's always the last one I do before I get lunch.
I can change the linen in five minutes. But you didn't tell Miss Murphy to leave a half an hour earlier. No. Tell me how Mrs. Lampson looked when you went into the room.
Well, I was kind of mad because they were supposed to put her in her chair so I could do the bed, but she was just lying there like she was asleep.
Lying? On her bed, you mean?
Mm-hmm.
She wasn't sitting in her chair by the window?
No, she was in bed.
Huh. Well, did you notice if she was wearing any jewelry? Let's see.
I don't know.
She could be. I don't really remember. All right, one other thing. How many doors are there in Mrs. Lampson's room? Well, the main door to the hallway, the bathroom door, and a closet door. Three doors.
Huh.
Okay.
Well, thanks, Eugene.
Oh, Harry, I couldn't sleep a wink. This is a nightmare. The women in here, you just wouldn't believe.
Murphy, they're only giving me ten minutes, but I'm going to have you out of here on bail just as soon as we can get you before a judgment. Now listen, remember how you told me you left Mrs. Lamson sitting up in a chair?
Yes.
Are you absolutely sure of that?
Well, of course.
She was sitting up in her chair when I left her.
At 1130?
Yes.
Has the orderly told you to leave at 1130? Mm-hmm. When did he tell you that?
Just about 11.25.
11.25?
I thought you said nobody came into the room all the time that you were there.
He didn't come in. He called through the bathroom door.
Well, how'd he get in the bathroom?
Well, from the other room next door to Mrs. Ransom's. They share the bathroom. There's a door on each side of the bathroom.
So you didn't actually see him?
No.
He tapped on the door and said he needed me to be out of the room by 11.30 so he could come in and change the sheets.
Don't apologize, Mr.
Nile.
I haven't been able to do a thing around the house all day because of this terrible cloud that's hanging over Hillside Home. Anything I can do to help, I'll be most happy to.
Mr. Carroll, how many orderlies do you employ at Hillside Home?
Why, just two. Eugene works six days a week. Scott works Sundays. Good heavens, you don't think Eugene.
I don't know.
Why, Eugene's been with us ever since he was a freshman in high school.
Never a bit of trouble. Could you, uh, describe Mrs. Lampson? Describe her?
Why, she's, uh... She was quite a celebrated person in Alaska, you know, married to one of the richest men in the gold fields. Quite a society person right here in Seattle.
Any living relatives?
Not a soul, so far as we could determine. No, she came to live with us on her own free will and volition. Never spoke of sons or daughters or grandchildren.
But loaded.
What?
Oh, you mean wealthy. Well, she certainly loved her jewelry. You know, over the years, we've had a few petty thefts. Didn't amount to anything. But this theft of the poor woman's jewelry and her murder. What is the world coming to, Mr.
Niles?
First thing Monday morning, I ask Harwood to call a meeting in Mrs. Lamson's room at the nursing home for the middle of the afternoon. Then I get busy on the phone with plenty of help from Paulson, the lawyer. When three o'clock comes, we're all in Mrs. Lamson's room at Hillside Home.
Mr.
Carroll, the director of the nursing home, is there, of course. Paulson is there. Mabel, the nurse, and Eugene, the orderly, and, thanks to Judge Qualen, who named a reasonable bail, Murphy's there, too, escorted by Detective Harwood. Okay, everyone, I think we can get started now. Detective Harwood, would you kindly read from the paper you brought?
Well, it's the medical examiner's preliminary report on the condition of the deceased. Cause of death is apparent suffocation due to external cause. Visible signs are, well, you want me to go into that?
Just the ear part.
Oh, yes, yes, the ears. The deceased earlobes were torn.
What? Good heaven. What on earth?
Her earlobes were torn, it says, in a manner consistent with the forcible removal of permanent earrings.
Her diamond earrings.
Someone pulled them right out of her earlobes.
Why, who?
Who would do such a beastly thing?
Wait just a minute.
When I came in the room and saw Mrs. Lampson, there was no blood from her ears.
No, because she was already dead when someone tried to remove the diamonds from her earlobes. Her heart had already stopped, and the blood would be draining away from her head. She was suffocated, probably by a pillow, while she was sitting in her chair. The killer decided he, or she, had disfigured the ears so badly that he needed to disguise what he'd done as long as possible, so he, or she, lifted Mrs. Lamson's body out of the chair and put it in the bed, arranging her bed pillow around her head to conceal her wounded ears. Miss Murphy, you little fiend! No, Mr. Carroll, it wasn't Murphy. Look at her, too small for this job. This took a larger person.
What are you looking at me for?
Well, you're a head taller than Murphy, maybe 40 pounds heavier.
Well, thanks a lot, but I've got some news for you. I was on the phone from the nursing station that whole time talking to a girlfriend who works over at Swedish Hospital. Now, you can fire me for that if you want to, Mr. Carroll, but you call up Kate Anderson and ask her. I was on the phone that whole half hour.
No, Mabel, I won't fire you. But now we do know who the guilty party is. What a fool I was to have put my faith in you, Eugene.
Me? It wasn't me. Whoever killed Mrs. Lamson also took her jewelry, but the motive wasn't robbery.
What are you talking about? Why else would someone kill a helpless, blind 90-year-old woman and steal a fortune in gems?
Would you like to explain, Mr. Carroll? What? Why, you killed Mrs. Lamson?
What an outrageous thing to say. Why, officer, this man has taken leave of his senses.
When Mrs. Lamson came to spend the rest of her life here at Hillside Home, you made some special arrangements for her, didn't you? You have them here, Phil?
Yes.
It seems that Mrs.
Lamson agreed to leave her entire estate to Hillside Home upon her death.
That's right. Only Mr. Carroll needed it now. To cover certain outstanding debts. Outrageous.
Outrageous. You utter a word of this in public and I will sue you for everything you will ever have.
Wait a minute.
Mr.
Carroll was in Spokane all day Saturday. Until the evening.
Wasn't he?
Of course I was. But you weren't. You did book a round-trip ticket to Spokane on West Coast Airlines, but you never used it. Instead, you came back to Hillside Home and entered the back door Saturday morning at 11.25. You came into the room next to this one, which was empty. You tapped on the door to the common bathroom between the two rooms, and you pretended to be Eugene, telling Murphy to clear out at 11.30. That would give you half an hour to murder Mrs. Lamson and steal her jewelry and get your hands on her fortune now when you need it, instead of waiting for her natural death, which might have been too late. It's all yours, Harwood.
Adventures of Harry Nile feature Phil Harper as Harry and Pat French as Murphy, with Douglas Young, Meryl Mayo, Bob Pittman, Terry Rose, Karen Anderson, and Brad Perkins. Murphy, Wanted for Murder, was written and produced by Jim French and directed by Pat French. Sound created by Stu Conway, mixing by Peggy Stokes.
The program was recorded before a live audience in Seattle. This is Jay Green speaking. The Adventures of Harry Nile.
Mr.
Nile, my husband's going to kill me if someone doesn't stop him.
The police say they can't arrest him until he tries something.
But he has tried to kill me, and they won't believe it. And he'll try again. I hid in San Diego, and he found me. Then I ran to Portland, and he found me there.
And now I'm here in Seattle, and I'm broke, and I'm tired, and I can't run anymore.
You're broke, you say?
Yes.
All I have left is my insurance, and that's what he wants. He'll kill me and make it look like an accident.
Oh, please.
You're my last hope.
All the other detectives want me to pay them $ 100 in advance.
I don't have $ 100. I don't have anything.
I see.
You're my last hope.
Or do you want to pick up the paper and read about my murder?
Her name is Karen, and she must have been beautiful once, but now she looks lost in the wrinkled raincoat that droops over her shoulders. Her brown hair hangs across her forehead, her eyes are two dark hollows. Life is tough all over, and there's a thousand sad stories in this or any other town, and I've got my own money problems, but She's right. I don't want to pick up the paper and read about her murder. She tells me her name is Karen Childs McLaughlin, 28, born in Los Angeles, where she married Michael McLaughlin seven years ago. They had two little girls, now four and six. Marriage went sour, and the girls went to live with Karen's folks in Bakersfield until things could be resolved. That's how far I get
when I notice her beginning to sway a little in her chair, and I just manage to reach her before she keels over. Here, drink a little of this coffee. I'm sorry, it's cold.
That was so stupid of me. Please forgive me. I guess I've been forgetting to eat.
When did you eat last? Portland.
Yeah, when was that? Saturday?
Look, I've put you to too much trouble. If you'll just take me back to the bus station.
We're not going to the bus station.
What do you mean?
Come on.
Where are we going?
To my favorite greasy spoon. Go ahead, finish your hamburger.
I can't eat this much. My stomach must have shrunk.
Okay, well, then finish your milkshake.
You sound like my mother.
Are you feeling any better?
Yes, lots better. I guess I was just hungry.
Yeah, people get that way when they don't eat for 48 hours. Now, are you up to answering a couple more questions?
If I can.
You think Michael took out an insurance policy on your life with the intent to kill you?
Yes.
How much insurance?
$ 100, 000 worth.
100,000?
That's a lot of money. When did he buy it?
It was three years ago.
Well, how were you two getting along?
Fine. Perfectly fine, I thought.
So, tell me, what makes you think he's trying to kill you?
Well, two years ago we were on vacation at the Grand Canyon and we drove to this lookout and he led me over to the very.
Edge and then he tried to push me over, but.
Laughed it off and was just kidding around I guess I believed him I wanted to believe him.
I mean the babies were in the car and.
Everything that was the first time and one day I was taking a bath in the bathtub and Michael came in to shave and he had this extension cord on his electric shaver and shaving he walked over to the tub with the shaver still connected and all of a sudden i knew what he was going to do he was going to drop the cord in the water and electrocute me well what'd you do i leapt out of the tub and i hid in the closet what did he do oh he said i was crazy that i was imagining things but i saw the look in his eyes it was the same look he had at the grand.
Canyon yeah any other attempts At.
The beach, at Dana Point.
He was supposed to be up on the beach watching the girls while I was swimming, and all of a sudden he dove off of the pier almost on top of me, and he pulled me under, and I had to fight him off.
Finally, I pulled his hair so hard that he let me go.
It was right after that that I left him and took the girls to my folks' place in Bakersfield.
What did he do then?
Oh, he called and called and drove up and begged me to come back to Go see a doctor.
Well, go see a doctor.
Sure.
He was trying to make out like I was crazy, of course.
Well, the folks knew I wasn't crazy. I knew I wasn't crazy. He just wanted another chance to kill me and make it look like an accident.
So you went to San Diego?
I have a girlfriend who lives down there. She said she could find me a job, but... Michael found me, so I took the first plane up to Portland.
Why Portland?
It was the farthest place I could afford to fly to.
You know anybody in Portland?
Not a soul. But I figured I'd be safe there, but he found me again.
How?
He said he hired a detective. I was staying in this motel, and one night, there he was, knocking at my door.
So how'd you evade him that time?
Uh.
called the motel manager, and he called the police, and they took him in for questioning. I went straight to the bus station and bought a ticket to Seattle with the last of my money.
Well, that must have been, what, Saturday?
I guess it was. I don't know. I lose track of time.
What does Michael do for a living?
He's a salesman. He sells encyclopedias.
And he can afford a detective? And a hundred grand life insurance policy? He must do all right.
He does.
He's their top salesman.
What company?
Scholastic.
Scholastic encyclopedias.
You wouldn't have a picture of him, would you?
No, but he's tall, over six feet. He's good looking.
Black hair, blue eyes, nice smile. People used to say we looked like movie stars together. That was when I was pretty.
Karen gives me a physical description of her husband and his office number, the car he drives, credit cards he carries, her home phone number, name of their insurance company, the name of the agent, all the standard stuff. And by one o'clock, I've arranged for her to stay up at Osterman's boarding house on Queen Anne Hill, where my sidekick, Murphy, rents a room.
You'll like it here, Karen.
Mr.
Osterman is very nice.
I'm so grateful. I just hope I don't make trouble for you.
Don't worry about that. Nobody could possibly know where you're staying. Now, you just sit tight. I'm going to be busy for a little while, but I'll be in touch tonight. And you get some rest.
You are, Fraulein.
Take a little schnafken. It's good for you.
He means a nap.
Oh, I could use a nap.
Oh, good. Just what the doctor ordered. Okay, talk to you later. Yeah, come.
We go out.
How is he going to do this, Mr. Osterman?
Well, the room was empty.
Why not?
Harry, why is her husband trying to find her?
Can't talk about it.
Why would you want to hide from him?
Can't talk about it.
Well, I just thought I could help.
Well, maybe you can, but right now the best thing for you is to just forget you ever saw her. My number one priority is to find out where Michael McLaughlin is right now. Back at the office, I call Karen's house down in California. No answer. I call his office. A woman there tells me Mr. McLaughlin is away on a sales trip. I try conning her into telling me where he's staying, but she won't con. I try to find a number for Karen's folks, assuming her middle name of Childs would be her parents' name, but the Bakersfield operator says there's nobody listed by that name. Two o'clock.
I'm sitting at my desk, wondering whether McLaughlin has already traced his wife to Seattle when the phone rings. And, as usual, on the third ring, I answer.
It.
Very Nile investigation. Harry, Harry, it's me. Why are you whispering? You over at the library?
No, no, I'm at home. Harry, did you by any chance look through Karen's purse?
No, but you did.
Well, she left it in the front room. I'm sorry.
I know it's wrong, but Harry, it's a good thing I did. When I picked up her purse to take it into her room, a letter fell out of it.
Just fell out?
Well, it did.
And you happened to read it? Okay, what did it say?
It's horrible.
Just read it.
It's from her husband.
It talks about how much trouble she's been to him, and that he never wanted children. And then he says, someone ought to put you out of your misery. You'd be better off dead.
It says that?
Yes.
Huh. Where was it postmarked?
There was no envelope. It was just folded up in her purse.
Is she still asleep?
Yeah, so far as I know.
Okay, well, you put the letter back in the purse and put the purse back where you found it. And when she wakes up, don't tell her you saw the letter.
Don't tell her?
Right.
Right now, she needs to trust us, all of us.
Oh, now I feel ashamed.
I'll tell you what you can do before you put the letter back. Make me a copy of it. Can you do that? Just copy it, word for word. A letter like that could weigh in as evidence against McLaughlin if he tries anything. 205, another long-distance call to L.A., to Ernest Brown, agent for Golden State Insurance Company.
Mr.
Brown refuses to tell me anything about the McLaughlin policy, says it would be unethical and against company regulations. 220, I want to find out if McLaughlin took a flight out of Portland after the cops detained him, so I call the airlines. Nothing doing, and no release passenger names. The train station is no help either. This leaves me with only one other possibility. If McLaughlin did come up to Seattle to look for his wife, and if there's a branch office of the company in town, would he check in with him? It's a long shot. But I look up the Seattle branch of the Scholastic Encyclopedia Company.
I dial their number. I ask if Michael McLaughlin is in. And in 15 seconds, I'm talking to him. Mike McLaughlin.
Mr.
McLaughlin?
That's me.
Who's this? My name is Harry Nile. Uh, Friend of mine referred me to you, said you might be in town. I'd like to talk to you in person if you can take a couple of minutes.
What was it you wanted to see me about?
Encyclopedias. What else? It takes me just under ten minutes to get to the offices of Scholastic out on Elliott Avenue. Michael McLaughlin is a broad-shouldered guy wearing a tan silk suit and a $ 20 tie. He's got thick black hair, teeth from a toothpaste ad, His aftershave smells as good as he looks.
Are you familiar with our 20-volume scholastic family encyclopedia, Mr.
Nile? You can save the sales pitch. I have something to discuss with you, and I think you'd prefer to talk about it outside. Here's my card.
Private detective? What do I want with a private detective?
You really want to talk in here?
I'll be right back, Joy.
Okay, Mr.
McLaughlin.
All right, what's this all about?
I'm representing your wife, Karen McLaughlin.
Representing Karen? Representing her for what? What the devil are you talking about? Is this some kind of gag?
No gag, Mr. McLaughlin.
Look, Karen and I, well, we have our difficulties like any other couple, but why does she need a private detective?
She says she needs protection from you. You're trying to kill her. I agreed to help her out.
Trying to kill her?
Isn't that why you followed her up here?
I followed her up here. Are you sure you've got the right McLaughlin?
You've been married seven years. You have two little girls.
Oh, yes.
You took out a heavy insurance policy on Karen's life?
What if I did?
You insured your wife for $ 100, 000?
Yes, and I.
Also bought a $ 100, 000 policy on my life with Karen as beneficiary. I'm going inside and call her. This whole thing is ridiculous.
I don't think she's at home.
Why not?
Because like I said, she's here in Seattle.
She's here?
That's right. She came to my office just this morning. I gave her a place to hide.
Hide?
From you.
This whole thing is impossible. I'm going in and call her right now. And you are going to owe me a big apology. Joy, call long distance and get a hold of Mrs. Karen McLaughlin. Make it person to person.
You have the number.
Yes, sir.
Mr.
McLaughlin, the meeting room is empty if you want to use it.
I'll put your call through to.
You in there.
Thanks, Joy.
You're telling me that my wife has hired you to be her bodyguard to protect her from me? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.
All right, tell me something. Did you and your wife ever go to the Grand Canyon?
The Grand Canyon? Yes. What's that got to do with it?
Do you shave with a razor or an electric shaver?
What kind of question is that?
Razor or shaver.
Electric shaver, most of the time. What's that got to do with.
Did you ever take the family and go swimming down by the beach?
Every chance I get. What are you getting at, anyway?
Did Karen take your daughters to her parents' house? When?
She's done that a number of times.
Do you know her parents?
Of course I know them.
And they live where?
In Bakersfield.
You get along with them?
Yes, they're nice people. Look, how do you know so much about me and my family?
How else? From your wife. Tell me about your marriage.
What about it?
Well, I mean... Are you separated? No. Do you fight a lot?
Fight?
No.
I wouldn't call it fighting. We might have a disagreement now and again. For one thing, Karen isn't wild about my traveling. They just made me West Coast sales manager for my company. We've got offices in San Diego, Portland, Seattle, as well as the home office in Los Angeles.
I don't get to spend as much time at home as I used to.
When you went to the Grand Canyon, do you remember anything in particular about Karen thinking you were going to Push her over the edge?
No, of course not.
Do you ever think about electrocuting your wife in the bathtub? Listen, chum.
I am this close to decking you.
Yes.
Did they let it ring a long time?
Okay, Joy.
Thank you.
No answer at home?
What does that prove?
Nothing.
She has a car of her own. She could be anywhere.
Look, just tell me where Karen's staying and we'll clear this thing up.
Not quite yet, Mr. McLaughlin. I'll be in touch. I drive away from the meeting with McLaughlin, and I'm good and confused by now, but my instinct still tells me to stick with Karen's story. It's only a short hop up to Queen Anne from Elliott Avenue, up to Osterman's boarding house, where I've got Murphy watching over her.
Well, Karen had a good nap, and she's feeling better, aren't.
You, Karen?
Quite a lot better, thanks.
Uh, Karen, I need something from you.
Anything.
I need your parents' phone number in Bakersfield.
My parents' number.
Why? Well, they may be able to tell me some little things. Some detail will help.
And Harry's really good at details, Karen.
Well, I hate to get them involved. They're so upset as it is.
Well, when's the last time you called them?
Well, last week sometime.
Wednesday, I think.
How were the girls?
Oh, they were fine.
Just a little bit.
Fine.
What are their names?
The girls? Oh, Mary and Jane. Mary and Jane.
Listen, I don't want you calling my folks.
There's nothing they can do to help, and I don't want them mixed.
Up in this.
Okay, it's up to you. Now, I've got some work to do. I'll be in touch with you later. Walk me out to my car, Murph.
Sure.
I'll be right back, Aaron.
Did you make a copy of that note from her husband?
Yeah, here it is. I copied it word for word.
Okay, good. Tough to read his writing?
Oh, it wasn't in handwriting. It was typed.
It was typed? Uh-huh. Come on, sit in the car with me while I read this.
Okay.
Okay, let's see what he says. There's no Dear Karen. It just starts right in. Since you are not interested in talking, I'm writing what I want to say. This so-called marriage has been nothing but a waste. You've made my life a living hell from the very first. I tried every way to please you, but you were looking elsewhere for love.
Do you think she was unfaithful to him?
It sounds like he thinks so anyway. Let's see what else. What does he say here? You never wanted a normal marriage. You never wanted to have children. All you really wanted was a sign of respectability, but all you created was two miserable people. Someone ought to put you out of your misery, you'd be better off dead. And it wasn't signed.
No date at the top.
No, nothing but what you see there.
Well, it's not an explicit death threat.
But I can see how she'd take it that way.
Yeah. I guess Karen's told you she's scared to death of her husband.
Yeah, she told me all about him.
Murphy, I just came from talking with him. He's five minutes away from here down on Elliott Avenue.
Oh, no. He's looking for her.
No, he isn't. He claims he didn't know she was up here. Denies there's any serious trouble between them.
Do you believe him?
Not 100%, but I don't believe Karen 100% either. Someone is trying to pull a fast one, but I don't know who. I'm no marriage counselor, but what I want to do is sit McLaughlin and Karen down together and thrash out their problems before they get any worse. Now that I know that one of them is lying to me.
If only I could talk to someone who knows them both, but who isn't related to either one of them. Strikes me that the insurance agent who sold Michael his policies might be that person. So, just before five, I called to Ernest Brown at Golden State Insurance Company, and he's still there.
Yes, I'm fairly well acquainted with both Mr.
And Mrs.
McLaughlin.
What's your interest in them, Mr.
Nile?
Well, did they seem to be, uh, happily married?
Well, there again, you're asking me to talk about a client. It's not really ethical.
Well, look, I respect your ethics, but there's a chance you could help avert a tragic situation here. All I want to know is whether you had the impression that Karen McLaughlin was, uh, well, afraid of her husband's motive in buying the insurance. No, absolutely not.
You know, you should be talking with my assistant. She services that account, but unfortunately, she's on medical leave through the rest of the month.
Any way I could reach her?
Well, I suppose she's at home, but I.
I know. It wouldn't be ethical to give out her number. I'll tell you what. Give me her name. Can you do that?
Well, I suppose that would be all right. Her name is Brucella Converse.
Brucella? There's one you don't hear a lot. Converse?
Yes.
She lives in Glendale. That's all I can tell you.
I see. Okay, well, thanks for your help, Mr.
Brown.
5.10 p.m. It's another dead end. Her number's been disconnected. While I can't afford any more time or phone calls on a pro bono case, it's time to bring the increasingly mysterious McLaughlins together, which I arrange for after certain precautions. At 8 o'clock that night over at good old Mr. Osterman's with Murphy, his referee, I decide not to tell Karen in advance that her husband is going to drop in on her. So when I drive up with Michael McLaughlin in the car and Mr. Osterman cautiously opens his front door and Murphy is fidgeting on the sidelines, I expect a certain amount of fireworks, but not the kind I get. So, uh, where's Karen?
In her room.
She's putting herself up. I told her you were coming over. Ah, here she comes.
Well, here you are again, Mr.
Nile.
It's... Oh, no.
Now listen, Karen. I just want you and Michael to sit down and talk over your differences.
What's going on here?
Who is this woman?
Huh?
I thought you said Karen was here. This isn't Karen. This isn't my wife. You're trying to pull.
Wait a minute.
I've seen you somewhere.
Who are you?
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Wait a minute. Karen, you mean you're not really.
Let me out of here. Grab her. Stop her. Mr. Osterman?
Let me go.
Let me go.
Come on, just bring her back here.
Come on, Karen.
Come on.
You're not Karen. I don't know what to call you.
Call me a fake.
Call me a fraud.
Or should we call you Brucella? Are you Brucella Converse?
That's who she is.
Mrs.
Converse, I sold you a set of encyclopedias. You work for, what's his name, the insurance agent, Brown. That's how I know her. She works at Golden State Insurance. You'd call me up at the office and talk about the books.
Is he right?
Yes.
What are you trying to do, Mrs.
Converse?
Just forget it. Just forget I'm alive. You never knew I was alive anyway.
I think what we have here is a sort of a crush. Wouldn't you say?
But why did you want Harry to protect you from Mr. McLaughlin? He wouldn't have hurt you. Oh, shut up, all of you.
Can't you leave me alone?
That letter in your purse.
You went through my purse.
Get the hell out of your purse, Karen.
Hey, this is not Karen.
Well, I think this explains itself. Now, here, I've got a copy.
No, no, you're not going to read it.
I forbid you to read it.
Since you are not interested in talking, I'm writing what I want to say. This so-called marriage has been nothing but a waste, and you've made my life a living hell from the very first. I tried every way to please you, but you were looking elsewhere for love.
Stop.
Please, have mercy.
Don't read the rest of it.
I dreamed of us married. It seemed so real in my dreams.
You wrote it? We thought Mr. McLaughlin had written it.
Could I ask one question? Why would you want Harry Nile to protect you from.
The man you love? Well, I think I know. Love can be very close to hate sometimes. If you couldn't attract Michael's attention any other way, you could send me out after him.
Do you know what I wanted? I wanted you to kill him for me. That's what I wanted.
Oh, no, Karen.
I go see who it is.
Yeah, who is it?
Officer Taylor, Seattle Police.
Is Mr.
Nile here?
I'm here, Barbara. Come on in.
You are?
Come on in.
Good evening, folks.
I'm Officer Barbara Taylor.
Mr.
Nile, you asked me.
To be here?
Yeah, I did. My hunch turned out to be right. This lady is Brucella Converse from Los Angeles. And this gentleman is Michael McLaughlin, also from Los Angeles.
Oh, yes, Mr.
McLaughlin.
We were able to locate your wife. She was in Bakersfield with her family... And they're all fine.
Mr.
Nile wanted us to check.
Well, I didn't know whether... Whether I'd killed him.
Oh, yes.
I'm crazy enough. And I might have.
But you didn't.
Do you have evidence of a crime here, Mr.
Nile?
Well, there's a letter she wrote.
No, Ms.
Taylor.
There's no crime here.
You're sure?
I'm sure.
I'd like to know that Ms. Converse here gets the help she needs.
Well, I'll take her downtown for evaluation.
Now, I'd like to get to a phone. It's been a while since I talked to Karen.
The Adventures of Harry and Niall feature Phil Harper with Pat French as Murphy. Karen was played by Lisa Brooks and Michael McLaughlin was Brad Curtis. Terry Rose is heard as Osterman with Dan Leach, Karen Anderson and Dodie Axelson. The McLaughlin Matter was written and produced by Jim French and directed by Pat French. Sound was created by Stuart Conway and Bruce Rogerson. Technical direction by Peggy Stokes. This program was recorded before a live audience in Seattle. This is Jay Green speaking.