
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. I like to think I've got something in common with psychiatrists. People don't want anyone to know they need a psychiatrist, so they go see the doctor alone.
It's like that with me. Not many people want it known they need a private eye.
So they come by themselves. But there are exceptions.
Uh, hello?
Yes, can I help you?
Uh, The sign says private investigations.
That's right.
Won't you come in?
Is he in?
Yes.
Can I tell him your name?
Well, I'm Ross McCarthy, and this is Betsy Bond.
Hello.
I'll tell Mr. Nile you're here. Just have a seat. Harry, Harry, two people to see you. Ross McCarthy and Betsy Bond. First timers.
Nervous.
Maybe a little scared.
What about?
I don't know. He's about 30, jeans and an old jacket, and she's younger, pretty, and self-conscious. I'll bet they're after some free advice.
Did you tell him I don't do premarital counseling?
Harry, be serious.
I'll put on my fatherly face.
Oh, and he's got a paper sack.
Well, maybe he brought lunch. It's about that time.
Yes, this is Mr.
Nile.
How do you do?
This is Betsy Bond, and I'm Ross McCarthy.
Betsy and Ross? You wouldn't be flag makers, would you? Yeah, I suppose you've heard that one before. Okay, go ahead.
Sit down.
Thank you.
Thank you. Now, how can I help you folks? Well, we brought something. What you got there? A reel of tape?
I hope you have a tape recorder.
Hey, this is 1956. No modern PI would work without one. It's on the tape anyway. A song and dance team?
What's on the tape?
A murder.
You've got a murder on tape, you say? Here.
Play it yourself.
Okay, well, I thread up your tape. Why don't you tell me about it?
Well, see, I'm in a play. It's... Well, you tell him, Ross.
I'm so nervous.
You've heard of the Northlake Players? We're a little theater company up in Lake City. We're doing private lives, and I'm the stage manager.
And I'm playing the maid.
Uh-huh.
It's not a very big part, and I'm having trouble memorizing my lines.
They're all in French.
And we're supposed to be off book by Saturday.
Because we open in ten days, and I don't know if I'll ever get my lines.
So I suggested she ought to tape the rehearsals so she could practice at home. See, that helps sometimes. The theater has a recorder in the sound booth with mics over the stage.
Uh-huh.
Oh, you can run the tape fast forward up to that piece of paper I stuck in the reel. That's where the murder begins.
Okay.
Well, so anyway, last night I did the tape and I taped the rehearsal, but when we finished and everyone left the theater, I locked the place up and I forgot the machine was still recording.
And I forgot, too.
I didn't remember until I got home, and by then it was too late.
So this morning I called.
Ross and we went and got the tape and brought it over and we listened to the rehearsal together.
And when I fast-forwarded the tape to find the next scene that she was in, I overshot the spot and we heard something that wasn't in the play.
Two people must have come into the theater after the cast left for the night.
And of course they had no way of knowing that the mics were hot and the tape was running.
Okay, we're just about up to the marker now.
All right, put it on extra slow speed. One and seven-eighth inches per second.
All right, that's just where I've got it. Okay, here goes.
A death scene is one of the.
Hardest things to pull off on stage.
Here, stop here.
Don't we need a chair or something?
No, no, no, this will be fine. It's so dark.
We don't need light. You'll feel what to do.
Now, let's say the script calls for the killer to come up behind you. He takes you like this.
Puts his arm under your chin.
You're hurting me.
Relax.
Just let your body relax. You're hurting me.
Now stop.
I said relax. We keep fighting back.
Not for very long, my dear. Not for very long. There.
There.
See how simple it is to die?
That's it. You can stop the tape. Isn't it horrible?
No, no, wait a minute, wait a minute. That's an actor pretending to strangle someone.
I don't think he was pretending, Mr. Nile.
Just a couple of actors, for Pete's sake.
Then why didn't we hear the woman say anything after she was strangled? And why didn't we hear two sets of footsteps leave the theater?
Harry, I think he's right.
Okay, this tape. What was recorded on it before you used it last night?
Nothing. It was brand new.
Ross, you say you're a stage manager. Do you know every actor in your theater? No, no, I don't know every actor. I'm just a stage manager for private lives. But you don't recognize either of the voices on the tape? I'm afraid not.
Betsy?
No, this is my first work with this theater. I don't know hardly anyone.
Okay.
Well, then your first move is to take this tape to the police.
We did.
We just came from there. They treated us like a couple of jerks, like we were pulling a hoax.
That's why we came to you.
Or do you think we're pulling a hoax?
No.
But until we know a crime's been committed, all you've actually got here is a piece of tape. Now, did you lock up the theater when you left?
Sure.
Then.
Whoever came in after the rehearsal must have had a key, too, huh? I'm sure there are keys around. When you load out a key, there's nothing stopping anyone from making a copy of it.
And this is an amateur theater, remember? Okay, where's this theater located?
Well, we're in an old movie house, the Cameo, out on Lake City Way. So what do we do now?
Leave your address and your phone number and let me keep the tape for a while.
What will you do with it?
Well, I know one police detective I'd like to play it for. I'm pretty sure he'll listen.
See how simple it is to die?
So, what do you think, Bartolo?
Well, you could have a piece of evidence here, but there's just one thing. We got no crime to go with it. We get lots of crimes that lack evidence. We got evidence that lacks a crime. How well do you know the kids who brought.
You this tape? I just met them.
And you don't think maybe they're pulling your chain?
Why would they?
I don't know.
Gag?
A publicity stunt?
I don't think so. When did you say this was recorded? Last night.
Where?
The cameo in Lake City. It's an old movie theater.
Yeah, yeah.
I know the cameo.
Well, if this thing's genuine, a woman's going to turn up missing. Or a body's going to be found. But until then, I don't know what we can do. Tell you what I'd be doing, though, Harry.
I'd work on finding out whose voices are on that tape.
Hi Murph, I'm back.
And?
And let's listen to that tape again.
Oh, it's so creepy. Okay, okay, give it to me and I'll put it on.
Okay, here you go.
Actually, the tape tells us a lot.
It does?
Well, yeah, at least it narrows down the list of victims and suspects a little.
You're taking it seriously now?
Yeah, at least I can't think of any reason anyone would pull a hoax like this.
Harry, did you see Detective Bartolo?
Yeah, makes no sense to him either. How are you coming there?
We're almost down to the little paper marker.
There.
A death scene is one of the hardest things to pull off on the stage.
Here, stop here.
Don't we need a chair or something?
No, no, no, this will be fine. It's so dark.
We don't need light.
We'll feel what to do. Now, let's say the script calls for the killer to come.
Up behind you.
He takes you like this. Puts his arm under your chin.
You're hurting me.
Relax.
Just let your body relax.
You're hurting me.
Now stop.
I said relax.
Will you keep my breath?
Not for very long, my dear.
Not for very long.
There.
See how simple it is?
To die?
Okay, cut it.
Well? Guy doesn't sound natural, does he?
Maybe it's theater speech.
It's theater speech.
Cultured pronunciation. Sort of an affected way of speaking.
Well, how old would you say he sounds?
Oh, in his forties at least. Maybe older.
And the woman?
Younger, younger. In her thirties. Maybe even her twenties.
And she goes into a darkened theater with him so he can show her how to play a death scene, which tells me she's not an experienced actress.
She's very naive.
Well, could mean this dame's in some play where she gets murdered. What's that stage manager's name?
Russ McCarthy. Shall I call him?
The next show we're doing, after Private Lives, The Man Who Came to Dinner.
Is there a strangulation scene in that?
Are you kidding? The Man Who Came to Dinner is a comedy by Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman.
Oh, excuse my ignorance. The last play I saw was in the third grade. I was one of the wise men. Is there any play coming up that's got a scene where a woman gets strangled?
No, the Northlake players only do light stuff. We're a family theater.
Okay, then what other theater is doing a play where a gal gets strangled?
I don't know of any.
Then why would the woman want to learn how to die if she's not in a play?
Well, it's a useful thing for an actor to know. There's nothing like a convincing death scene. Actors love them.
Okay, I'm assuming that the guy heard on the tape is an actor. He must have done a show at the cameo because he had a key to the theater.
Yeah, yeah, but like I said, there could be a dozen keys out.
Well, is there a list of actors available?
A list?
Yeah, a master list of all the actors in the area.
You must be joking. Well, then how do you get a hold of actors when you're going to do a play? You announce auditions, and they come out of the woodwork.
Auditions.
Yeah, actors turn out for auditions. You put a notice in the papers that you're producing a play and you need actors. This may not be New York City, Mr. Nile, but we've got a lot of actors who need to act, even if it's in a high school auditorium, for no pay.
I think I'll work on that idea. Talk to you later, Ross.
Yeah, I've got to head down to the theater for rehearsal. I'll see you.
Murphy, I've got an idea. Drop whatever you're doing and transcribe what's on that tape. Just type it down like a script. You go ahead and type that. I'll take it.
Mr.
Nile, it's Betsy.
Betsy Bond.
Oh, hello, Betsy. What's up?
Marla Richards is missing.
Who's Marla Richards?
She's in private life.
Who says she's missing?
Last night, she offered to pick me up and take me to rehearsal tonight. But when I didn't hear from her today, I called her house, and her husband, Ken, is frantic. He said he hasn't seen her since she left for rehearsal last night.
Yes?
Uh, Mr.
Richards?
Yes, I'm Ken Richards. What is it?
Well, I'm a private investigator. My name's Niall.
What is it?
Is it about Marla?
Uh, do you think we could talk inside? Uh, of course.
Come in.
Have you found her? Is she all right?
No, I'm not with the police. I'm a private investigator, but Betsy Bond asked me to see.
If I could help. Betsy?
Oh, oh, Betsy, yeah. She's a friend of Marla's.
When did you see Marla last?
Yesterday afternoon when she left for rehearsal. She was supposed to be home after they were done, but when I got home from work, she hadn't come home. I waited until about nine this morning, and then I called the police, but they don't consider anyone missing unless they've been gone 48 hours.
You say you work at night?
Yeah, I drive a cab, 6 p.m. till 3 in the morning.
Well, is there any place you think she might have gone after the rehearsal?
Look, we had a fight yesterday afternoon. She was in a pretty bad mood when she left.
How's that?
Well, I happen to know she's been flirting with one of the guys in the play. And I told her I thought it had gone on long enough, and I wanted it to stop.
What's his name?
Stephen Ashworth.
You think she's with him?
No, I drove over to his apartment after I got off work at three this morning, and she wasn't there. See, Marla's always been a flirt. It never really means anything. It's just her way. But I told her I thought things were getting out of hand, and we had a shouting match, and she slammed out of the house. I didn't think she was leaving me.
Well, maybe she's cooling off at a friend's house. Or our relatives.
No, her only relatives are in New Mexico. See, Marla came back here sometime last night while I was working and took all her clothes and stuff.
Does she have a car?
She was driving our car.
What kind is it?
A 49 Nash.
You know your license number?
Gosh, no I don't.
Is there a rehearsal tonight?
Yeah, they rehearse every night.
Well then, she'll have to be.
At the theater. Why don't you just swing by in your cab and talk to her?
I can't.
I I drive between downtown and the airport, and if I take off time, I lose money. I could lose my job. I should be on the road right now. Besides, I don't particularly want to have to see Steve again.
How long's she known this guy?
Steve?
We were in a play together last year. That's where she met him.
Oh, well, then you're an actor, too.
Yeah. Look, maybe I am too protective, but I just didn't want her to leave me. I just want her back.
But Marla doesn't come back. She's not at rehearsal. And the next day, the police post a missing persons bulletin, and the theater finds another actress to replace her. Meanwhile, I'm putting together a little plot of my own. Ten days later, Private Lives opens, and I take Murphy to see it on opening night. Everyone in the cast has an English accent. And when the curtain falls, that's when the stage manager, Ross McCarthy, goes into his act, the act we'd rehearsed. Guys, guys, listen, okay?
There was a movie producer and a director in the audience tonight. They're up here looking for some fresh faces, and I'm letting them hold auditions right here in this theater starting at 3 tomorrow afternoon only. So if you're interested, show up by 3.
What are they looking for?
Mainly men, Steve, 30 to 40.
What's the movie about?
I don't really know, but I will tell you this. Each actor will audition in private, and no one gets a look at the script beforehand.
We're doing cold readings?
Cold as ice.
By three the next afternoon, there are 20 guys milling around in the lobby. One at a time, Ross calls them into the auditorium to audition on stage under the work lights. He hands each one of them a two-page script to read, with Betsy taking the female part. They don't know what it's about. They don't know that the Hollywood producer and his director sitting down in the front row are Detective Bartolo and Murphy. And no one can see me sitting in the last row of darkened theater.
Okay, thank you very much, James. Just leave the script here and exit by the stage door. And do not discuss the lines you read with anyone. Okay, Stephen Ashworth.
Hello, I'm Stephen Ashworth.
Okay, Steve, take this script and read it with Betsy.
All right. Now, the scene is the darkened stage of a theater.
You and Betsy come in through a side door and you lead her to downstate center.
All right.
All right, go ahead.
You enter.
All right.
A death scene is one of the hardest things to pull off on stage.
Here, stop here.
Don't we need a chair or something?
No, no, this will be fine.
But it's so dark.
We don't need light.
You'll feel what to do.
Now, let's say the script calls for the killer.
To come up behind you.
He takes you like this.
Put his arm under your chin.
You're hurting me.
Relax.
Just let your body relax.
You're hurting me. Stop.
I said relax.
But wouldn't she fight back?
Not for very long, my dear. Not for very long.
What are you doing?
There.
See how simple it is?
To die?
Well, that's very good, Steve.
You want to hand the script back, Steve?
Thank you very much, Steve.
Very nice reading.
All right, thanks.
Here's your script.
Okay, our next actor is Ken Richards.
Right here.
Hi, Ross.
Hi, Ken.
You want to go right up on the stage? You're playing opposite Betsy in this scene.
Okay.
Hi, Betsy.
All right, here's the script. You and Betsy enter the theater in the dark, and you lead her here to downstage center.
Okay.
Oh, my name is Ken Richards.
Okay, go right ahead. Start reading, please, Ken.
Okay.
A death scene is one of the hardest things to pull off on stage.
Here, stop here.
Don't we need a chair or something?
No.
No, this will be fine.
It's so dark.
We don't need light. You'll feel what to do.
Well, go ahead, Ken.
Keep on reading.
Now let's say the script calls for the killer to come up behind you. He takes you like this.
You put your arm around her neck.
Put your arm around Betsy's neck, like you're going to strangle her, Kent.
I don't think I'm right for this part.
I think you're perfect for the part.
I'm sorry.
You'll have to excuse me.
Why not just read the rest of it, Kent?
No, no, I can't do it.
It's not.
I can't do the part. My wife is missing. This hits a little too close to home.
I'll bet it does.
Who's that?
Harry Nile.
We met a few days ago.
The detective?
What is this?
Where'd you get this script?
Should be very familiar to you, Ken. You wrote it yourself. Right here in this theater. The night you murdered your wife. We have it all on tape.
I'm sorry.
I'm getting out of here.
Now you stand where you are, Mr.
Richards.
There's an officer at every exit.
You trapped me. One of you trapped me.
I was recording our rehearsal that night. And I forgot and I left the tape running. I recorded everything that happened.
You don't understand. It was an accident. I'd had a few drinks.
I didn't mean to hurt her.
But all on tape.
I'm sorry.
I'm getting out of here.
Now you stand where you are, Mr.
Richards.
There's an officer at every exit.
You trapped me. One of you trapped me.
I was recording our rehearsal that night. And I forgot and I left the tape running. It recorded everything that happened.
You don't understand.
It was an accident. I'd had a few drinks. I didn't mean to hurt her.
I got carried away.
I didn't mean to do it.
My name's Detective Bartolo with the Seattle Police Department, Mr.
Richards.
Now, we're going to go downtown and you can tell me all about it. I'm placing you under arrest for the killing of Marla Richards.
Ken Richards led Bartolo to where he buried Marla's body. When the case came to trial, Richard's defense attorney claimed the killing was an accident. The kid panicked when he realized what he'd done. But the jury convicted him of planning the whole thing. Murder won. And the tape? They never used it. The judge ruled it wasn't admissible as evidence.
Cold Reading was written by yours truly, Jim French, and featured Phil Harper as Harry Nile with Pat French as Murphy. Also in our cast were Larry Albert, Joy Rinaldi, Dennis Bateman, and Terry Rose. Pat French directed. Sound effects were created by David Freed and Scott Anderson. Mixing was by Peggy Stokes.
Music by David Shire. The program was performed before a live audience in Seattle. The Adventures of Harry Nile Once there was a cop. His name was Bill Barnett. And this is what brought him into my office one dark Seattle afternoon in 1956.
Yes, can I help you?
I need to see Harry Nile.
And how should I introduce you?
I'd rather not give my name, if you don't mind.
Wait just a minute, please.
Harry?
Yeah?
There's a man who wants to see you, but he won't give his name. He's wearing dark glasses and he has his coat collar turned up. And I don't like his looks.
Won't give his name. Okay, tell him to come in and then you leave.
Leave?
Where do you want me to go?
Just get out of the office. Go out in the hall. Stay away from the door.
You think.
Oh, Harry, you think he's got a gun?
Just do it, okay?
And then when he leaves, come back in.
Do you think you know who he is?
Murphy, they sell more sunglasses in Seattle than anywhere in the country. Could be anyone. Now scramble.
You can go in now and see him.
Okay. Thank you.
Okay, mister.
I'm ready.
Yeah, come in.
Hi.
She told me to come in.
Sure.
My name's Barnett. Bill Barnett.
Why do I know that name?
It was in the papers.
You hiding from somebody, Mr. Barnett? Dark glasses and all?
Hiding. Yeah, from the police. You can take your hand out of the drawer. I'm not carrying a gun. This is all I'm carrying.
Seattle Police Shield?
It's mine. I'm a cop.
Wait a minute, you're a cop and you're hiding from the police?
No, let me explain. I'm the guy whose partner was shot and killed chasing a crook three nights ago.
Yeah, of course. I read all about it.
My partner's name was Barry Warren. He died in my arms.
Oh, hey, I'm sorry. That's really rough.
Well, I'm out of uniform because my captain made me take time off after it happened.
I see. Well, how can I help you?
Well, a long time ago, Barry and I promised each other that if one of us ever got shot, the other one would get the guy that did it. I mean, it was a vow.
Yeah?
Well, the guy that killed Barry, his name is Gene Fallon. There was a felony warrant out for him, and he beat up an old lady in her house on Capitol Hill while he was robbing her. We spotted him and we took out after him.
Beat up an old lady nice.
Oh, yeah. He's an habitual criminal. He's been busted something like 11 times. Always fairly small stuff. Barry and I caught him once with a stolen TV set. Now, I hear you were a cop in Chicago. Is that true? Yeah, and I think I'm way ahead of you. You're going to ask me to find this guy for you so you can.
Get revenge on him?
No, no, no.
I'm not going to ask you to do that. Well, then why don't you let the department find him? They've got a whole lot better chance than I have. I'm just one guy.
No, no, see, there's a special reason. It's got to be me who arrests him, and I need your help. What's your special reason? The promise I made to Barry. Did your boss know about the promise? Captain Brower knows how close Barry and I were. I begged him to let me work the case, but he said it's for detectives, not patrolmen.
And could it be that he's afraid of what you'd do if you found Fallon yourself?
Absolutely not. I just have to be there when we find him.
And you're just going to stand by while I put my life on.
The line, huh?
Sorry. No, no, no. Look, if you handle it right, Fallon won't know what's happening. He doesn't know you. You can approach him and he wouldn't know that you're a detective. He wouldn't even see me until it's all over. See, the way it's going to go down is while you're talking to him, I come up behind him and I put the cuffs on him. Simple as that. I've got it all planned out.
Of course, there's one little technicality. We have to find him first. I'm sorry, Officer Barnett. You better take me out of your plans. Frankly, I try real hard not to get killed. It's bad for business. Ah, sure, I turned the case down. A smart private eye doesn't get in the way of a police manhunt, and he sure doesn't track someone down so a crazed client can kill him.
After Barnett left, I figured I wouldn't be hearing from him again. But I figured wrong. That night, I didn't feel like going home and cranking open another can of chili... So I went down to Andy's Diner on 4th South and tucked myself into a booth. Ordered the prime steak with hash browns, Roquefort, and salad. Before the salad came, suddenly, Bill Barnett slides into the seat across the table from me.
He followed me.
All day.
I'm sorry, but I gotta talk to you.
We talked already.
No, no, we didn't talk enough.
Well, then I'll say it again. If you want to play vigilante, that's fine, but I'm not going to help you assassinate someone, not even a cop killer.
Look, I appreciate how you feel, but I've got to find Fallon before the police do.
I told you before, I'm not going to flush some guy so you can kill him, and I'm not.
No, no, no, it's not that.
Hey, Bill, I'm sorry your partner got killed. I hope they catch the guy. But I don't get involved in police business. If you know where Fallon is, tell it to your boss.
I can't.
Why not?
It's a long story.
I'll talk.
You eat.
Okay.
But it won't change my mind.
Barry Warren and I had been partners for two years. We hit it off from the first day. We thought alike. We even looked a lot alike. When he took me home to meet his wife, I felt like I was coming home to family. Her name's Janet. She's a great gal. I'd wind up eating over at their place about half the time.
There isn't enough pot roast left for another meal, so you guys might just as well finish it up.
Oh, I can't do it, hon. Go on, Bill, take the rest of it.
Well, I don't want to see it go to waste.
Oh, it'll go to waste, all right.
Your waste.
Yeah, okay, wise guy. I'll split it with you.
Well, that's fair.
Oh, you two are so much alike.
Yeah, two bodies, one brain.
Oh?
Which one of you has the brain?
I think he means we think alike.
No, it's weird. We can almost tell what the other one's thinking.
That's what partners do.
We watch out for each other.
I know, but, you know, sometimes you act like you think you're bulletproof.
No, it's not that. The whole idea of working partners is we protect each other. Now, I'm not going to let anything happen to Barry, and he won't let me get in a bad spot either.
We're two sets of eyes and ears when we're working. What I might miss, Bill sees. What he might miss, I see.
Just be awfully careful.
What about the night Barry got shot?
Well.
Okay, that night Barry broke a rule. So did I. We were cruising on Capitol Hill, actually not very far from where I live, when a call came in. A victim had been slugged in her house on Yale Street, only about two blocks from where we were. And then I see this guy walking down the sidewalk. He's stuffing something inside a pillowcase, walking funny, like he wants to run but he's afraid to. He cuts between a couple of parked cars and trots across the street right in front of us.
Hey, you know who that is?
Yeah, that's our man.
It's Fallon.
Hey, it sure is.
He spotted us.
Let's get him. Fallon takes off on a dead run into an alley. We follow.
Stop. This is the police. You see which way he went?
Yeah, in that house. Back door. That one.
Any way to get around to the front?
I don't see any.
One of us ought to watch the front door.
Want to call a backup?
We haven't got time. Let's roust him. I'll do it. This is the police.
Open up.
Look.
Fallon was at the kitchen window. Now he's gone.
Okay, Fallon.
Come out or we're coming in.
He took off up the stairs. I'll bet you a million bucks.
I think he's living here now.
Got inside awful quick.
Well, I'm going in.
Well, I'm right behind you.
No, no, stay here.
Just cover me.
That's where we didn't use our heads. One of us should have covered the front while the other one went in the back, but what happened was Barry crouched down by the back door and reached up for the doorknob. He eased it open a crack to have a look in. I'm braced about ten feet behind him on a lower step.
Barry didn't have his gun up, but I've got mine aimed head level at the door. And then the door jerks open. Fallon had been waiting for us. And Fallon shot him in the head, point blank, and slammed the door. I run to Barry. He was trying to say something. I just threw myself down on the porch. I took him in my arms, and I began hollering for help.
A neighbor called in the report of the shooting. I stayed with Barry. And Fallon? He must have taken off. Guess you didn't know he had a gun. No, we didn't. Not then. But we got cocky. We took a chance. Like Janet said, I guess we thought we were bulletproof. About 45 minutes later, I had to face Janet when she came down to the emergency room at Harbor. She wasn't hysterical. She was so god-awful calm. It was like she knew this was going to happen. Now it had.
And she was going to deal with it. I was the one who was losing it.
Officer, we've done everything we possibly could.
But we've been standing here watching him, Doc.
Doc?
And his eyes moved under his eyelids. Didn't they, Janet? His eyes quivered. His finger quivered. His finger moved. We saw it. He was trying to let us know he's alive.
The bullet did a great deal of damage when it entered his brain, and more damage when it exited. There is really no hope. Life is essentially gone.
But the body.
There are some nerves in the body that take longer.
To.
To die.
Yes, I understand. I... I used to be a nurse right here in this hospital.
I can't tell you how sorry I am, Mrs.
Warren.
But now... There are some things I have to do for your husband's body. I'm afraid I'll have to take him away.
Of course. Of course.
Thank you for trying.
Um, officer?
What?
Would you, um, would you let go of his hand?
I promise you, Janet.
No, no, no, Bill.
Look, I promise you.
Don't, Bill.
It won't bring him back.
Look, I promise Barry, and I promise you, I will get him. Excuse me. Mrs.
Warren?
Yes?
I'm Harold Brower. We've met before.
Of course.
Hello, Bill.
Captain. Mrs.
Warren, I want you to know how deeply, deeply sorry I am for your loss. This affects every man in the force, and I want you to know that if there's anything at all that you need, just say the word.
You're very kind.
I know it doesn't do any good, but Barry was an outstanding officer, one of the best.
Thank you.
Do you have someone to stay with you tonight?
Yes. My sister's here.
I'll be all right.
Would you like to talk to the chaplain?
Yes, fine.
That would be fine.
Thank you.
I'll have him call you.
Thank you.
Bill, I need to talk with you for a minute.
Yeah, sure.
How are you feeling? It's the worst day of my life, Cap.
I know.
Medics check you over? Oh, yeah. When they brought Barry in. I'm okay.
Good.
Now, we'll need to interrogate you back at the headquarters.
You mean tonight?
While everything is still fresh in your memory, before you forget any.
Of the details.
I'm not going to forget any of the details, Captain. And then you're going on temporary leave.
Captain, I want to work this case.
Afraid not, Barnett.
Please. I'd even do it on my own time.
I'm sorry.
I know you and your partner were very close, but the answer is no. This is a case for the detectives, not a patrolman.
But I promised him. We made a vow that if one of us ever got shot, the other one would... Cap, the other one... Yes? Don't you see.
got to find this guy myself you're on leave until i call you back now that's an order after we're done tonight just go away somewhere.
You just stay out of it sir i don't think you understand.
But i do understand that's why i'm giving you time off i don't need it captain that's a direct order it's for your own good after you're debriefed you are paid leave until further notice.
Yeah for my own good no i think he was right In the movies, the good guy chases the villain one-on-one. They have a shootout, and the good guy always wins. But this isn't the movies.
Yeah, well, there's more. When I finally got home around 11, I saw that I'd had a visitor.
What do you mean?
A break-in. Fallon had been there. Sometime before we saw him and chased him, he'd been in my apartment.
How do you know it was Fallon?
He left me a note.
So he knew it was your place.
He knew where I lived, and he knew when I'd be away. Okay, what did the note say? It was just a taunting note. To let me know he knew where he could find me.
Take anything?
Yeah.
What?
My gun. I kept an extra gun in the closet. Loaded. Fallon used my gun to kill my partner.
So when you were chasing Fallon, you didn't know he'd been in your apartment, stolen your gun?
No. He never used a weapon. He was small time. It wasn't his style.
Okay, now, just for the sake of argument, lay it out for me.
I want you to find him for me. That's all.
So you can keep your promise and kill him?
No, I keep telling you. Look, look, you were a cop. Sometimes when they find a cop killer, they shoot first and they ask questions later. When they find him, Fallon's going to be a dead man. Unless I can find him first.
And do what?
Protect him.
Baloney, you want your gun back before the cops and the papers find out it was yours.
I also want him tried in a court of law. Believe it or not, Harry, I'm a good cop. If Captain Brower says lay off, I'm not going against his orders.
But you'd hire me to do it instead and get my head blown off.
Uh-uh. Find him for me before the cops do. You won't get hurt, and I'll pay you $ 1, 000. Oh, where's a.
Patrolman going to get $ 1, 000?
I've saved it. I was going to buy one of those little Volkswagens. You want to see the money? I'll bring it to you tomorrow morning, as soon as the bank opens.
It's not the money, Bill. Oh, man, my steak's cold. The next morning, I try my luck up on the fifth floor of the public safety building. Detective Nick Bolano owes me a favor from last year.
And you've come to collect it, right? Right.
All right, name it. Everything you've got on Gene Fallon.
Ah, jeez.
The guy who killed Officer Warren?
Yeah.
What's going on?
Can't tell you.
Look, Harry, take some advice. There are a lot of itchy trigger fingers around here right now, and we don't need a P.I. getting in the line of fire when we find him. I need his rap sheet, his mug sheet. I need.
His alias file.
I can't let those out of here.
I know you can't. Just let me see them right here at the counter.
Okay.
Hang on a minute.
Milano comes back with a thick manila folder and plunks it on the counter. On top of the pile are the mug shots showing a sour-looking scrawny kid in his late twenties wearing thick round glasses. The rap sheet on Eugene Fallon is a string of small-time heists. Spent ten months in juvenile hall for shoplifting when he was fifteen.
They gave him an eye test, which shows he was practically blind, 2,200 and 2,400.
So a social services agency fixed.
Him up with spectacles. But seeing the world more clearly only seemed to sharpen his taste for robbery. He got out, he continued his life of crime, leading to the ransacking of the home of Mrs. Orchard, an 80-year-old woman who slugged him with a vase of flowers and got hit by his gun butt. As he ran away, Officers Barnett and Warren gave chase. Officer Warren was shot.
End of report. Bill Barnett's apartment is my next stop.
Sorry, Harry.
I haven't been to the bank yet.
No, that's not why I'm here. I just came from 3rd and James.
What are you doing at the police station?
Reading the package on Gene Fallon.
Find out anything?
The night he shot your partner, you said he was walking funny?
Yeah, kind of like a drunk in a hurry.
Like a drunk in a hurry.
Yeah, like he was sort of uncertain.
Like he couldn't see straight.
Yeah.
Yeah, you could say that.
Okay, you sit tight. I'm going to visit Mrs. Orchard.
I told the policeman everything that happened.
Well, just so I can get it straight from my records, now you say this fellow broke in.
I heard someone downstairs, and I came down, and there he was in the dining room, stealing my silver out of the sideboard.
And what did you do?
Well, I picked up a heavy porcelain vase, and I hit him with it. And he hit me with his gun right here on my cheek. Isn't this a hitch's bruise?
Was the man wearing glasses?
Oh.
I know I shouldn't hit a person with glasses, but he was stealing my silver, and it had been in my family for generations.
It's okay. It's all right. You did the right thing. Now, what became of the glasses?
Well, they flew off his head, and then he staggered around looking for them, and I could tell he could hardly see, so I shoot him out the door. But he still had some of my silver in that bag of his.
Ms.
Orchard. Do you know where his glasses are?
Certainly.
You want them, they're not even broken. I put them away.
And you didn't tell the police?
Well, I told them I hid them. I don't remember saying he was wearing glasses. They didn't need to know that, did they?
I've called every optical store in Capitol Hill, Harry, and none of them has sold glasses with that extreme correction in the last few days to anyone fitting Fallon's description.
Okay, I'm going to be busy for the rest of the afternoon, probably most of the night. If you have to call me, I'll be at a Mrs. Orchard's house. Here's a number. While Bill Barnett waited on Yale Street in my car, I settled in at Mrs. Orchard's big old two-story house. I asked her to stay upstairs with only a reading light on in her bedroom. And I sat in the living room in the dark. I brought my gun just in case. And it got dark. Got to be ten o'clock. Traffic cruised slowly through the narrow streets outside. 11 o'clock came. 10 past 11, something happened outside.
A man yelled something. I ran to the front door.
That's him, Harry!
Guy was standing on the sidewalk, wearing a long raincoat and a hat, dark glasses, carrying a cane. I saw Bill getting out of my car. The man in the raincoat throws down his cane and brings out a gun. He swings it in Bill's direction.
Don't come any closer!
Hey, Fallon, you looking for your glasses?
You may not be able to see us, but we see you.
Who's this other guy, Barnett?
You got a new partner already? Drop the gun, Fallon. Hey, Barnett, I didn't mean to do it.
We can talk about it.
Now drop the gun. We got no way out, Fallon.
Oh, yeah?
Watch this!
In minutes, the police had blocked the street. Black and white cars, plainclothes cars, an ambulance, reporters, photographers. Bill sat with me in my car, looking at the scene.
You figure it'd work out this way, Harry? I figured he'd.
Come back for his glasses. I didn't figure he'd shoot himself. Thought you'd probably do it for him. I had you pegged wrong. Yeah, tomorrow I'll get you your thousand bucks.
Nah.
Go buy yourself a Volkswagen.
Bulletproof was directed by Pat French. Phil Harper is Harry Nile. Pat French is Murphy. Bill Brooks played Officer Bill Barnett. John Kirkland was heard as Barry Warren and the Doctor. Kate Bauer played Janet Warren and Mrs. Orchard. Charles Canada was Captain Brower. Larry Albert was Nick Milano and Gene Fallon.
Our sound effects were by David Freed and Scott Anderson, and our engineer was Peggy Stokes. Bulletproof was written and produced by yours truly, Jim French, from an idea by Bill Brooks. The program was performed before a live audience at the Museum of History and Industry in Seattle. The Adventures of Harry Nye Spring, 1956. It's an April afternoon in Pioneer Square, and I've got my office window open to let in the salty Seattle breeze. And I'm thinking nice day for some ice cream. Murphy, on the other hand, has turned up the steam radiator by her desk, and she's thinking about clam chowder.
And then the mail came.
Harry, the mail came.
Anything interesting?
Bills and ads. Oh, and a letter for you.
From?
I don't know.
Do you want me to open it?
Yeah, sure.
Do you want me to open it?
Yeah, sure.
Looks personal.
Personal who do i know who can write by.
The handwriting i'd say it's from a woman yeah you still want me.
To open it hey i've got no secrets and you've got the letter opener okay.
Must be interesting uh-oh you better read this.
Well it was addressed to me what's in it.
It's from a woman named rachel and she saw someone bury a body.
Dear Mr. Nell, nine years ago when I was a child, I had a terrible experience in which I saw a body being buried near our house. No one believed me. I know what I saw, and now that I've become an adult and I've come into my own money... I like that part. Now that I've come into my own money, I cannot rest until the truth is known. Please call me if you will take my case. Yours truly, Rachel Stone.
Well?
Better get Rachel on the phone. I made an appointment to meet her at her apartment south of Seattle. Rachel Stone has big brown eyes with shiny brown hair and a pageboy cut and a spray of freckles across her nose. The word cute was coined just for her.
Mr.
Nile, I wrote to you because, as I said in my letter, I witnessed a horrible crime and nobody believed me.
Okay, why don't you tell me the whole story?
Well, When I was 12, I was a tomboy. I didn't have a friend in the world, girl or boy, so I spent a lot of time by myself. I built a treehouse and a big cedar tree in some woods behind our house, and I practically lived in it.
You were 12, you say?
Well, yeah.
My folks were worried about me being antisocial, and they didn't think I was feminine enough. But I got good grades and stayed out of trouble, so they pretty much left me alone.
Uh-huh.
Sometimes I'd spend the night in my treehouse, and that's where I was when I saw the man burying the body.
Now, when was this? Do you remember?
It was two in the morning on August the 4th, 1948. It had started to rain, and that woke me up, and I was thinking about going back to our house. But then a car came down the street and turned in right by where they were building a new house, about 50 feet from my tree. And this man got out and took a shovel out of the trunk, and he began to dig where they build the wooden forms, you know, to hold the cement when they pour the foundation.
Uh-huh.
I looked at my watch. It had a radium dial, and it said 2 a.m., and I thought, why would anyone be digging a hole at 2 in the morning?
Fair question.
And then he stopped digging, and he went and got something out of the trunk of his car, and it was the body of a woman. She had dark hair, and she was wearing a light-colored dress, pink, I think, and he picked her up and carried her over to the hole he dug, and he dropped her into the hole. And that's when I fell out of the tree.
Oh, you fell?
35 feet. And the next thing I knew, I was in a hospital bed, and it was the next day.
Were you badly hurt?
I got a skull fracture and a brain concussion.
Wow.
So there I am in the hospital, and doctors all around. And as soon as I could talk, I told them what I'd seen. But they just said I'd had a bad dream because of the drugs they'd given me. But it was no dream, Mr.
Nile.
Nobody believed you? Nobody reported what you saw?
No, Daddy believed me. He called the police and they sent a man over to the hospital. And I told him what I'd seen. The next day they called Daddy and said they didn't find anything but an empty hole in the ground. But I saw him burying that woman.
You actually saw him putting a body in the ground?
Yes.
I'm wondering why they didn't find it. I don't know. And what would you like me to do?
I want you to prove that I wasn't dreaming or crazy.
Well, it seems like I ought to start back at the scene of the crime, if it was a crime. So, that same afternoon, Rachel drives me north to the place where all this supposedly happened, but the woods are gone now, and it's a sea of houses in a tract called Cedar Park. Rachel pulls up in front of a vaguely English Tudor-style house with a big Buick convertible in the driveway.
My folks used to own 20 acres, and then they sold it to developers and we moved to Hawaii. And the developers cut down the trees and put in roads and houses.
And called it Cedar Park in honor of all the trees that aren't here anymore. Now, where's the house where the body was buried?
This one.
We're parked right in front of it.
Good.
It looks like someone's home. Shall we?
We're going in? Do you think we should?
Hey, whoever's living here now might know who built the house. Maybe one of the workmen on the crew was the guy you saw. He'd know where to bury the body where it wouldn't be found.
Oh.
Oh, I see.
So, we go up and ring the doorbell. The guy in a pair of jeans and a jacket opens the door.
Yes?
Hi, my name's Harry Nile. I'm a private investigator, and this is Miss Stone. I hope we're not bothering you.
Private investigator? You mean like Sam Spade?
Well, not exactly. I just got a couple of questions, if you've got the time.
Sure.
Come on in if you like.
I was looking for an excuse not to cut the lawn. My name's Bill Brandon. And you say you're... Harry Nile.
And Rachel Stone. Nice to meet you.
Same here.
We were wondering, have you lived here long?
You mean in this house?
Since 1948.
Isn't that the year it was built?
Right.
I'm the original owner.
Ah.
Well.
Were you aware that there was a report that someone buried a body in the foundation of this house as it was being built?
Oh, so that's what this is about.
You heard about it?
Sure, the contractor told me. We had a good laugh about it at the time. They had the cops over and everything. They dug up the whole area under the house, and guess what?
Nobody.
Would you remember the name of the contractor?
Sure, Frank Foles. I've got his card in my desk somewhere.
You want it?
Yeah, it'd be a big help.
I'll get it.
Yeah, we bought this place before Frank even broke ground.
We were lucky to get it. There was a big housing shortage in 48. Yeah, here you go. I knew I had it.
I kept his card because the wife and I thought we might have him build us another one someday.
But then she died.
Well, just let me copy his number down in my book, and you can keep the card. Fine.
Well, say, why the sudden interest in an old prank?
Well, it might not have been a prank.
Oh? Yeah, well, I can't say much more about it now.
We thought it was just a hoax.
No, as a matter of fact, there was a witness.
Now, you're not going to dig up my foundation, are you?
Nah, I hate picking shovel work. It reminds me of Sing Sing.
Oh, excuse me, Harry. I just remembered something. We've got to go. I'm going to be late for an appointment.
Oh, sure, sure.
Okay. Thanks for your help, Mr.
Brendan.
Let me know if there's anything I can do.
I sure will, and thanks.
Sorry you had to run off.
You okay, Rachel?
I don't know.
Let's get in the car.
You want to tell me what's wrong?
I think he's the man. Did you see how he walks?
Yeah, he limps.
The man who dug the grave had a limp.
You didn't tell me the guy who dug the grave had a limp.
Well, I forgot, but he did.
Which leg was it?
His right leg.
You're sure about that?
Mr.
Nile, don't you believe me either?
Hey, I didn't say that. I'm going to follow up on everything I can. Drive me back to my car.
So what are you going to do now?
Well, I'm going to verify what the police actually found, and I'm going to talk to this guy, Frank Foles, the builder, but I need you to tell me every smallest detail you remember about what you saw.
Well, I've told you.
Well, would you have known the make of the car the man was driving?
Oh, no, I didn't know about those things.
Oh, is it a sedan or a coupe, a station wagon?
A sedan, I think.
Yeah, yeah, it had four doors.
Describe it.
Well, it was a dark color.
And?
Well, all cars look alike to me. I don't know what kind it was. Oh, it had a big shiny radiator grille.
Okay, I've got something I want you to do while we're driving right now. I want you to notice every car we see. I want you to point out any car with a front end that looks like the one you saw the night you fell out of the tree.
Okay.
Now, another question. Who was your doctor? Who treated you for your injuries?
A regular family doctor, Dr. Haviland, Theodore Haviland.
Fine, let's go see him.
These are the x-rays of your skull fracture, Rachel. Now, you see those little white lines here?
That's where the break happened. And that was caused by her fall? Well, now, I just treat injuries.
I can't always determine the cause.
What was the ground like under your tree, Rachel?
It was dirt.
There wasn't a big rock or.
Something under the tree?
No, I don't think so.
It looks like the fracture came at the back of her head. Yes, it did.
It did.
See, there are eight bones that enclose the brain. The ones in the back are the occipital.
That's here.
And the sphenoid here at the base of the skull. The fracture occurred back here in the occipital. Like she'd hit the ground with the back of her head. I assume so.
But I had a couple of black eyes, too.
Well, you see, the tissue around the eyes is very susceptible to bruising.
So you're saying that she could get black eyes by being hit on the back of her head? Do you have some other theory? No, I'm just trying to get all the facts together.
Thanks, Doctor.
You've been a big help. But the biggest help was Murphy. When I got back to the office, she was just hanging up the phone.
Oh, good.
I won't have to leave you all these call slips. You know, first, I actually got to speak to one of the officers who investigated the original report.
No.
Yes, and he remembered it clearly. He said he and his partner saw nothing but a hole someone had dug next to a foundation wall. So they took a shovel, and they dug all around the area, but they didn't find a thing.
Yeah, that's what Mr.
Brandon said.
Brandon?
Yeah, Bill Brandon, the guy whose house was being built for her.
But then, then I really struck pay dirt.
To coin a phrase.
Harry, Harry, I've been calling all over the state for any record of a woman missing around August 4th, 1948, like you asked. Yeah? Well, records from eight years ago are pretty hard to find.
But you found some, huh?
I happen to have a friend who works for the Everett Herald in Snohomish County, and she just may have come up with something. There was a story about a train that hit a body on the tracks just south of Everett. It was on August 4th, 1948.
Same day.
She's sending a photostat of the story down here by messenger. The victim was female, and it happened at 5.05 a.m.
Now we need to know if they ever identified the body on the tracks.
I asked my friend to see if there was any more information in later editions of the paper, and she said she'd keep checking and call me.
That is right on cue.
Harry and I'll investigations. Yes, yes, we were just talking about it.
It's her. Nice timing.
You did? Yes, yes, I've got a pencil. Norma Jensen. San Diego? Oh, she did?
Okay.
They didn't say for what, did they? Well, thank you.
Tell her I should thank you.
Oh, Harry says thank you, too. I'll talk to you later, Angelica. You might want to send her a pound of chocolate.
Yeah, I'll make a note. Now, what did she tell you about the lady on the railroad tracks?
Well, it was in the paper a week later. Her fingerprints matched those of Norma Jensen. And she had a police record. Last note address, San Diego.
She had a record? That's right.
The story in the paper said the woman had worked in the naval training station as a civilian for a short time.
Well, then the Navy would know her next of kin.
Well, but the only thing is, she was a blonde. And Rachel's mystery woman had dark hair, didn't she?
Well, blonde hair looks dark when it's wet. And Rachel said it was raining when she saw her. Now, you up for some more phone calls?
I guess.
All right, take my address book. Look up Freddy Walters. He's a PI. He works in San Diego. Tell him I need background on two people, Norma Jensen and William Brandon. And tell him I'll wire him money for a retainer and have him call. Tell me what he finds.
My, it's busy, busy, busy. Harry Nile Investigations. Oh, yes, Miss Stone. He's right here. It's Rachel Stone.
Okay, I'll take it here. Hello, Rachel.
Mr. Nile, I saw it.
You saw what?
Car like the one the killer was driving i made notes it has five horizontal chrome bars that sweep across the front of the car with headlights that poke up above like frog's eyes and the same five chrome bars on the rear fenders i remember that clearly and the funny thing is i don't think i've ever seen another one since that night and the.
Car has a badge on the hood that says chrysler Yes.
How in the world did you know?
Because you've just described a pretty rare car. See, I'm an old cop. I had to recognize every car ever made.
I'm impressed.
The reason you haven't seen many of them is that it's a 1942 model. They only built a couple of hundred of them. Then came Pearl Harbor and the plant shut down to build army tanks. You sit tight, Rachel. We may be getting close.
Yeah?
I'm looking for Frank Foles.
You found him?
Name's Harry Nile. Here's my card.
Investigations? What do you investigate?
Well, at the moment, I'm following up a few old leads. Back in 1948, did you build a house for a man named Brandon?
I sure did. We're buddies.
Yeah, he gave me your name. I'm just wondering, do you remember when the police came out and dug around the foundation of the house?
Remember?
Sure.
I was there. They called me, said some kid had phoned in a report she'd seen a body being buried on our building site. I had to go out in the mud while these two cops dug around looking for it. Man, it was raining pitchforks, and man, were they cussing. Never found anything, of course.
Well, I was wondering if one of the workers on that job might have had a 1942 Chrysler sedan at that time.
Well, I owned a 42 Chrysler sedan. Don't know if I still had it in 48, though. Might have.
Say, if I could come inside.
Oh, yeah, sure, sure. Come on in.
Did you hurt your leg?
No, a sniper did that for me. I was a CB on Saipan.
Oh, sorry to hear that.
So, what else do you need to know?
Well, your buddy, Bill Brandon, was he married when you built him his house?
Yeah, yeah.
His wife just died a few years ago. Hey, what is this? I don't like you asking me all these personal questions.
Well, just one more, if you don't mind, Mr.
Foles.
Can you describe Mrs. Brandon for me?
Sylvia?
Sure.
You see, dark hair, a little plump, a few years older than Bill. Hey, what's going on, anyway?
Piece by piece, I'm trying to reconstruct what happened in the early morning of August 4th, 1948. And the next day, the pieces begin to fall into place when Freddy Walters calls from San Diego.
Okay, here you go. William D. Brandon, born 1925, enlisted in the Navy in 43, wounded on Saipan in 44, discharged in San Diego, 45. That's his military file. Married in Tijuana, Mexico, April 19, 1946, to one Norma Jensen, born 1923 in New Jersey.
And that's it?
Not quite. Norma Jensen, arrested for vagrancy six times by San Diego police. Convicted of petty larceny, nine counts, San Diego County.
She was a pickpocket?
Shoplifter. It gets better. Suspicion of soliciting, four counts, no convictions.
We're talking about a bad girl.
A bad girl. Now, more about Bill. William Brandon marries Alice Rupp, October 1946. Marriage annulled December 1946. Oh, wait a minute. When did he get divorced from Norma Jensen? Uh-huh.
He got married to Alice while he was still married to Norma?
And on January 2nd, 1947, he celebrated the new year by marrying Sylvia Guttenberg of the La Jolla Guttenbergs. And still no divorce on the record.
I see.
After that, the trail grows cold.
Well, I think it's getting warmer up here.
Thanks, Freddy.
You'll get my bill.
Everybody ready?
Do it just like we practiced.
Well, what a surprise. Sam Spade and company.
Hi, Mr. Brandon. You remember Rachel Stone?
Sure.
Come on in.
I brought Rachel with me because I thought she needed to see the end of this nightmare she's lived with for the past eight years. I don't get you.
I was the 12-year-old witness. I saw you bury the body under your house.
What are you bullying?
You accusing me of murder? There's no body under my house.
The police looked.
No, you're right. Norma wasn't buried here. But that's because you realized you'd been seen digging her grave when you heard Rachel fall out of her treehouse. You froze and you heard nothing more. So you took your shovel. You walked over to where Rachel was lying, unconscious from the fall. She might be dead, but you bought yourself some insurance.
You raised your shovel and smashed it down on the back of her head. You were sure that would finish her, right, Bill?
You're crazy.
I didn't do that. I didn't do any of it.
So now you've got to find another place to get rid of Norma, who you never bothered to divorce before marrying wives two and three.
Hey, get out of my house right now.
Norma came up here to ruin your marriage to Sylvia to prove you're a bigamist, but you couldn't let that happen. Not when you had a rich new wife, so you killed her. But even though you thought you'd killed your only witness, you figure it's best to dump Norma somewhere else. You drive around with Norma in the back of your 1942 Chrysler.
Aha!
There.
That wasn't my car. I never owned a 1942 Chrysler. In 1948, I had a Cadillac.
So is that why you borrowed my old Chrysler that night, Bill? Because it was too messy a night to drive your big, shiny Caddy around in the mud where you were going to bury Norma? Frank?
What are you doing here? Are you with these people?
I've kept a key ever since I built your house. No, no, no, I'm not with these people. But I am going to see justice done. You borrowed my car to haul the body of a woman you killed. Now that makes me real mad.
That wasn't why I needed to haul some trash.
And you drove around for hours until you came to an overpass that runs over the track south of Everett. And you saw a freight coming. You stop, you open up the trunk, pick up the body, and tip her over the guardrail onto the track just as the engine comes by beneath you at 45 miles an hour.
You'll never prove a thing.
I think we will, because now the county coroner will know why they found bits of peat moss stuck in the poor woman's hair.
Peat moss?
Uh-huh.
I was driving the Chrysler to haul peat moss the week before. I guess some of it clung to Norma.
Frank, why are you doing this?
I got to wondering, Bill, about poor, rich Sylvia. She must have left you a fortune when she died. I wondered how you did that one. But then, I guess, practice makes perfect.
You invented the peat moss?
With Frank Foles' help. Oh, he'd all peat moss in his trunk at one time, I'm sure.
But they didn't find it enormously.
I don't really know, but Brandon thought so. Confessed on the way to the police station. So now little Rachel can sleep soundly again.
Yeah, and I will too after she pays her bill. All these phone calls. This was an expensive case, Harry.
You've been listening to Rachel's Dream on the Adventures of Harry Nile, starring Phil Harper as Harry and Pat French as Murphy. In tonight's program, you also heard Kate Bauer, Larry Albert, Rick May, and Bill Brooks. Script was by yours truly, Jim French. The sound was created by David Freed and Scott Anderson. Engineering was by Peggy Stokes. This program was performed before a live audience in Seattle. The adventures of.
Then, I guess, practice makes perfect.
You invented the peat moss?
With Frank Foles' help. Oh, he'd all peat moss in his trunk at one time, I'm sure.
But they didn't find it in Norma's hair.
I don't really know, but Brandon thought so. Confessed on the way to the police station. So now little Rachel can sleep soundly again.
Yeah, and I will too after she pays her bill. All these phone calls. This was an expensive case, Harry.
You've been listening to Rachel's Dream on the Adventures of Harry Nile, starring Phil Harper as Harry and Pat French as Murphy. In tonight's program, you also heard Kate Bauer, Larry Albert, Rick May, and Bill Brooks. Script was by yours truly, Jim French. The sound was created by David Freed and Scott Anderson. Engineering was by Peggy Stokes. This program was performed before a live audience in Seattle. The Adventures of Harry Nye.
A couple of blocks from the Seattle waterfront, there's an old parking garage. On the third floor, there's a gym where boxers train and guys work out. Under the bare bulbs, the air is filled with the smell of liniment, smoke, and sweat. And I'm there that night in June of 1956 at the request of a trainer named Sparky Jones.
Sparky's a one-time lightweight boxer who never got out of the ring. He's got a neck like a snapping turtle and a face like a mastiff. He's changed a lot of fighters from back-alley palookas into named contenders. At least that's what he told me when he called and asked for help.
Hey, thanks for coming down, Harry.
You've got quite a boxing match going on out there.
Yeah, two of my boys doing an exhibition for some promoters. If they like what they see, they fix up a match.
Always draws a crowd.
Shouldn't you be out there with them?
Nah.
I got two of my trainers working the corners. Like I said on the phone, I need someone to find out who's messing with Danny Fernando.
He's one of the guys fighting out there.
Messing with him?
How?
They're haunting him. I don't get it.
I don't either.
All I know is if Danny don't get over whatever's happening to him, career-wise, forget about it.
It's shirt-sleeve weather outside, blue skies and a gentle breeze blowing in from Elliott Bay. But in Sparky's gym, it's always night. Men in the crowd have indoor complexions. Cigars clamped in their teeth and suspenders without shirts. This is a factory. And the product is muscle. And this is where the case began. The case I call... The Fighter and the Phantom.
The Fighter and the Phantom.
Danny Fernando is a welterweight from Puerto Rico. He's just gone six rounds with a kid named LeBeau, and they stop the fight because Fernando's open to cut over LeBeau's eye. In a few minutes, Danny comes into the office, still wet from a shower.
You look good out there, kid.
Yeah, I got him with a right cross. Hey, why'd they stop the fight?
Because LeBeau's trainer wants that cut to heal before he fights on the 25th.
Go ahead, sit down, Danny. Oh, this here's Mr.
Nile.
Harry Nile. Nice to meet you, Danny. Same here.
Harry's going to find out who's bugging you.
I know who's bugging me. Kid McCoy.
Who's Kid McCoy?
Kid McCoy was welterweight champion of the world in 1896. Huh?
Did you say 1896?
See?
That's what I'm trying to tell you, Harry. Danny here is seeing things.
I am not. It was Kid McCoy.
Wait a minute.
Nobody who was fighting in 1896 could be alive in 1956. That's 60 years ago.
But he's not alive.
I'm sorry. I don't do ghosts.
McCoy is dead. Muerte. He's dead.
But he talks. He talk to you?
Yeah.
What'd he say?
He said, I'm Kid McCoy, and you will die in the ring.
And you believe him?
When'd he say that?
At the restaurant where I'm eating. He walks up to my table. He says, I'm Kid McCoy, and you will never be champion. He told me to quit or I would die in the ring. Then he says, do you want to die like me?
Were you alone when that happened? No, no, no.
My girlfriend, she was with me.
And she saw him too?
Yeah.
What'd you do?
I just sit there for a second, you know? Man, I was like someone hit me. I'm shocked. But then I get mad. I get up to follow him, but he's gone. He disappears like a ghost, and that's when I get scared. I go back to my table, and Maria, my girlfriend, she's crying.
We have to leave.
You see what we're dealing with here, Harry?
Okay, well, have you seen this guy anywhere else, Danny? Yeah, yeah, last week at Ringside.
Ringside?
Yeah, last week up in Everett.
We're doing a benefit for the Elks Club, and the end of the third, he goes to his corner... And he happens to look down at the audience, and he sees this guy again.
You sure it was the same guy? Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. It was the same guy. And he put the sign on me.
What does that mean? With his eyes.
He put the sign on me. A jinx.
So next round, you'll lose your concentration and drop your inside forearm block, and a kid from the sticks decks you with a left hook. Before Danny fights in public again, Harry, you gotta find this guy.
Danny?
Has anybody else seen him but you and your girlfriend?
I don't know.
You ever seen him here?
Here in Sparky's gym?
Nah.
Hey. If he ever shows up here, I throw him out. End of story.
Danny, what does this guy look like? Like a ghost. Well, I've never seen a ghost myself, Danny. What does a ghost look like?
His face, he's all gray. His eyes, black, like empty holes. And he wears this black suit with a flower, you know, in a buttonhole.
In his lapel.
Si, si, like a corpse in a coffin. And then he disappears.
Tell me how he disappears.
I don't know. One minute he's there, the next minute he's gone.
Listen, Danny, why do you think Kid McCoy's ghost would be talking with you?
He don't want me to win. He wants me to give up.
Why wouldn't he want you to win?
I don't know. Maybe he thinks I'm better than he was.
When's your next fight?
His next fight is Friday night at the Armory. It's a big one. You didn't see the posters? Danny's fighting Luke Gorso. Ten rounds.
If I go that long, maybe that night Gorso kills me. Yeah.
Yeah.
And you go in the ring with that kind of attitude, forget about it.
Mr.
Niles is going to find your kid McCoy and five will get you ten. He's working for Gorso. You coming to the match on Friday, Harry?
I'll get you tickets.
I'm figuring someone's got a good reason to spook Danny Fernando. And who's got a better one than the guy he's fighting on Friday of next week? So I get a hold of Gorso's manager, a gent named Tony Carlozzi. He's not delighted to hear from me.
What are you? You think we're desperate enough to pull a stunt like that? It's an insult. You tell Sparky he owes me an apology. Gorzo's gonna whip his boy without any tricks from me or anybody else.
Well, what would I expect?
A confession?
As Sparky would say, forget about it. So Monday morning, I put Murphy on the trail of an old boxer called Kid McCoy, and by noon, she's back from the library.
Found what you want, Harry.
Great.
Charles Kid McCoy was born in 1873... Became welterweight champion in 1896. And he committed suicide in 1940. Wait a minute.
He committed suicide?
Yes.
In 1940? Well, that would have made him.
67.
Wait a minute.
He didn't die in the ring. Interesting.
How are you going to solve this?
I'm going to hang around Danny Fernando and see if the ghost shows up at the gym. I don't know what else to do. I spend all the rest of Monday at Sparky's watching boxers box and trainers train. Men drift in and out. A linen supply driver brings in a load of clean towels and stands beside me watching Danny work out.
Pretty good in a fighter.
Yeah, name's Danny Fernando.
Yeah, pretty good.
Well, gotta pick up the dirty towels and get back on the route.
Yeah, okay, well, see ya.
Well, any sign of the ghost?
No.
Sparky, how long have you known Danny?
Oh, I've been working with him about two years now.
You a good boxer?
Yeah, he's got potential.
Could he win the championship someday?
Well, he's going to win some places, but the world championship, he's not ready to meet Carmen Basilio, if that's what you mean.
Maybe someday. But he's got to get over this thing in his head.
You think you could get me a picture of this Kid McCoy?
I don't know. I've never seen one, I don't think.
Ah, that's okay. I'll put Murphy on it. She knows the Seattle Public Library like you know what's in your wallet.
Which isn't much.
Harry, it's Murphy.
I recognize the voice.
I'm back at the library again, and I found a Ring magazine from 1940.
Ever hear of Ring magazine?
Yeah, all about boxing, isn't it?
Uh-huh.
I didn't know you knew anything about boxing.
Oh, I don't, but I know how to use the library. And the magazine did an obituary on Kid McCoy the year he died, and they ran a photo of him.
Great.
Just bring it back here to the office. I can't. Why not?
Well, the library doesn't circulate magazines. You can't take a magazine out of the library.
Not even for a day?
Magazines can't leave the library, Harry.
Okay, you stay there.
I'll meet you.
Fifteen minutes. No, no, give me half an hour.
Why?
Well, if I can't bring the picture to Danny, I'm going to have to bring Danny to the picture, and he's going to need to change and take a shower. Danny, this is my partner, Murphy. How you do?
Hello, Danny.
You got the magazine there?
Right here.
Here it is.
Photo of Kid McCoy.
Well?
Well, this must be how he looked when he was fighting, when he was young.
So?
So the guy's seen he's old, like 65 or 70 maybe.
Murphy, how old was McCoy when he died?
He was 67.
67?
Well, the ghost looked that old.
And the ghost said you could die in the ring like he did? Ghost didn't know his history. He's a phony, Danny. Doesn't that prove it? But Danny won't buy it. I'm fresh out of motives for someone to dress up like a ghost and try to spook the kid. So Murphy and I drive him back to Sparky's gym.
You gonna come in and watch me work out?
I don't think so. I gotta get Murphy back to the office. There's no one to answer the phones.
Danny.
Yes, ma'am.
Before all this happened, did you believe in ghosts?
Sure.
What do you think they are?
They're spirits of the dead. You don't know that?
Did you ever actually see a ghost before?
Well, no. But my mother back home, she's seen ghosts many times.
And do you believe they can tell the future?
Sure. They know what's gonna happen.
Do you believe what this ghost told.
You, Danny? I.
I don't know.
Hey, Danny, this guy you saw isn't a ghost. He's some real living person. And I'm going to get him. Tonight, if you see him again, you grab him. Don't let him get away. Then get someone to call me.
I can't do that.
What do you mean you can't do that? Just hold on to him.
Don't you know the rules?
What rules?
If I lay my hands on someone, if I hurt someone out of the ring, I could lose my license as a pro boxer. You didn't know that?
No.
But listen, Danny, we'll get to the bottom of this. Don't worry about it. I'm not giving up, Mr.
Nile.
I'm going to fight Gorso on Friday.
But Danny is worried, and so am I, because I've run out of people with motives. So after we get back to the office, I get Sparky Jones on the phone.
I don't know, Harry.
Danny's great when he's sparring here at my place, but who knows what he'll do if he sees this creep again.
Is there anyone who would benefit from Danny's retiring?
The truth?
Danny's not all that great a boxer. Give him time.
If he don't get hurt, he could develop. Like I said, he's got potential. But so do a hundred other welterweights.
And no one in the fight game is being threatened by him.
Danny?
Nah, not really.
Not yet.
Okay, well, that narrows it down a little. What about his background? What do you know about his past?
Well, he comes from Puerto Rico.
Fought a little back in Boston.
Boston?
Did you sign him there?
Nah.
He walked into the gym one day and Joe Bell was here and he needed a sparring partner. You ever see Bell fight? West Coast middleweight champ, 160 pounds. So I hired Danny, and in five minutes, Danny put Bella on the floor. Joe was pretty mad. But I signed Danny, and I've been working with him ever since.
What years did he fight in Boston?
Oh, I don't know. 52, 53, somewhere in there.
Next morning, only three days before he fights again, Danny's safely working out at Sparky's gym. So I close up the office and take Murphy back to the library for another prowl through back issues of Ring Magazine.
Here's every issue from 1951 to 1953.
Okay, I'll take half, you take the other half. See if you can find anything about Danny.
Okay.
We plow through issue after issue.
Nothing.
I get to the November number and I flip page after page when something catches my eye. I show it to Murphy and we just sit there looking at each other for a minute. Could we have found a motive for Kid McCoy's ghost? Music First thing the next morning, I drive back down to Sparky's gym, and there's Danny finishing a workout with a punching bag.
Hey, Mr. Nile. How you doing, Danny?
I'm getting there. No ghost last night?
No, I went to bed early.
Danny, you fought in Boston, Sparky tells me.
Yeah?
What brought you out here to Seattle?
Nothing special.
Why you want to know?
Well, I'm still trying to find that phony ghost, Danny. Could have been some guy who got mad at you in Boston for some reason, maybe? No, no, no.
I don't know anybody like that. Hey, look, I got to run some laps on the track.
No, no, hold on for a second.
See.
We were looking through an old boxing magazine yesterday, Danny. Did you ever fight under another name? What do you want, man? Just trying to figure out why someone would try and make you stop boxing.
How about it, Danny?
Did you ever fight under the name of Jose Morales? Yeah. Yeah, I fought under that name. Saw?
That's all for now, Danny. Go ahead and take your run. I've got to see Sparky.
Jose Morales?
You didn't know?
Fighters change their names all the time while they're coming up.
Well, according to the story in Ring Magazine, in 1953, Morales was fighting a guy called Kid Irish in Boston, and he scored a knockout. Two days later, Kid Irish dies. No kidding?
Man, that's a shame. And it's bad for the sport.
And Danny never told you?
Well, I'm not surprised. Things like that, a fighter's going to try to live down. But I don't see what that's got to do with Kid McCoy's ghost.
I need to make a call to Boston. Can I use your phone?
Yeah, I guess so.
It's only money. I find it usually takes me four calls to reach whoever it is I'm after, but this time it takes me six. But I finally get what I want. Then I get Sparky and Danny together in Sparky's office.
So what's the plan?
Danny?
What?
Do you blame yourself for the death of Kid Irish?
So that's what you've been doing? You've been checking up on me. What do you want me to say? That I killed him?
Aw, Danny.
I didn't know that guy was gonna die. We were wearing 10-ounce gloves.
Hey, take it easy, Danny. No one's saying you killed him.
Oh, yeah? In Boston, everybody was saying I killed him.
So is that why you changed your name and moved to Seattle?
I had to get away from him.
Kid McCoy's ghost come to you in Boston?
Yeah.
Before the fight with Kid Irish?
No, no. Only after Kid Irish dies.
And what did the ghost say then?
He was talking for Kid Irish. He said his soul was in torment. He said it was my fault.
Okay, just calm down. I think we've got this thing licked. Sparky, would Danny be breaking training if he went out to dinner tonight?
We don't eat too heavy or too late.
Good.
You go back to the restaurant where you saw Kid McCoy's ghost, Danny.
Which one was it?
The Sportsman's Steakhouse on the 4th Avenue.
Great.
About 7 o'clock. We'll be there. Don't look for us. You okay with that, Sparky?
Whatever.
This table okay?
Yeah, it should be fine.
Man, they keep it dark enough in here.
Well, ghosts don't like bright lights, remember?
Hey, you never did tell me. What makes you so sure the ghost is going to show up here again?
Because he knew Danny was eating here tonight.
Then you know who the ghost is?
Well, if I'm wrong, at least we get a steak dinner out of it. Look, whoever's pulling this stunt on Danny has to know a lot about him, right?
I guess.
And he knew Danny back in Boston. That's right. But Danny didn't know who he really is. He could have figured this out for himself if he wasn't so superstitious.
Look, here comes Danny now.
Good, he's all by himself. I told him not to bring his girlfriend.
Yeah, they're putting him in a corner where you said you wanted him to sit.
Well, now all we have to do is wait. Danny orders, and so do we. I bring him a glass of milk. He's trying to read the sporting news in his dark corner. Then his steak comes.
So does ours. He starts eating.
So do we.
Then.
Harry, that guy!
See him?
Yeah, yeah, he's walking over to the corner table. Yeah, he's stopping. Danny sees him.
The guy looks like a stiff.
Yeah, undertaker's suit, stiff collar, and a rose in his lapel. Oh, this guy's perfect.
Hey, how the heck did he get in?
We're concerned with seeing that he doesn't get out.
Come on.
Uh-oh.
Danny sees us. The guy's turning around.
He's going to make tracks. Come on, like we planned. You take his left arm, I'll take his right.
What are you doing?
Just be quiet, Mr.
O'Brien.
Danny, take a good look at this guy.
Grab his arm, Danny.
He's as real as you are.
Come on, let's get out of here before we raise a commotion.
Take your hands off me.
Nice and quiet, Mr.
O'Brien. Come on.
Where'd you park, O'Brien? Your car must be close. You wouldn't want to go very far wearing that Halloween makeup.
All right, all right. Have your fun.
Hey, you hired him. Where's your car?
I don't have one. I put on the makeup in a stall in the men's room.
That's where he went. No wonder I couldn't find him the first time. You're no ghost. Who are you?
You don't know, do you?
You little fool.
His name is Sean O'Brien. He dabbles a little in theater. He's a former amateur boxer. He raised a boy who fought under the name of Kid Irish... Keith Irish? He followed you out here to Seattle. He got a job with a linen supply outfit that furnishes towels to Sparky's gym.
You've been in my place half a dozen times.
Of course.
Every day. Well, why?
Why do you do this to me?
You killed my boy. What else have I got to care about in this life?
And you figure Danny's got a guilty conscience.
I watch you go on with your career.
When my boy is dead in his grave, I have to stop you.
I'm not like you, Danny.
Oh, no.
I could kill you.
But instead I only wanted to scare you out of the ring.
You went to a lot of trouble, Mr. O'Brien, to get vengeance. All it's going to get you is a date with the police for harassment.
No.
What do you mean, no?
I don't want him arrested. I don't need that now. Listen, Mr. O'Brien, I feel sorry for you. You've been hurt enough. Why don't you go back home to Boston now? Truly, I don't need that now. Listen, Mr. O'Brien, I feel sorry for you. You've been hurt enough. Why don't you go back home to Boston now?
Good idea, O'Brien.
And you're fighting Friday night?
I sure am. And I think I'll watch you get on the next train east, Mr. O'Brien.
Before Friday night. And let's forget about the ghost of Kid McCoy.
Phil Harper stars as Harry Nile, with Pat French as Murphy, John Amendola played Sparky Jones, Larry Albert was Danny, and Michael Morgan Dunn was O'Brien. The Fighter and the Phantom was directed by Pat French, from a script by yours truly, Jim French. Our sound men were David Freed and Scott Anderson.
Our engineer was Peggy Stokes. The program was performed before a live audience in Seattle.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Match on Friday, Harry. I'll get you tickets.
I'm figuring someone's got a good reason to spook Danny Fernando, and who's got a better one than the guy he's fighting on Friday of next week? So I get a hold of Gorso's manager, a gent named Tony Carlozzi. He's not delighted to hear from me.
What do you hear? You think we're desperate enough to pull a stunt like that? It's an insult. You tell Sparky he owes me an apology. Gorso's gonna whip his boy without any tricks from me or anybody else.
Well, what would I expect?
A confession?
As Sparky would say, forget about it. So Monday morning, I put Murphy on the trail of an old boxer called Kid McCoy, and by noon, she's back from the library.
Found what you want, Harry.
Great.
Charles Kid McCoy was born in 1873, became welterweight champion in 1896, and he committed suicide in 1940.
Wait a minute.
He committed suicide?
Yes. In 1940?
Well, that would have made him... 67. 67.
Wait a minute.
He didn't die in the ring. Interesting.
How are you going to solve this?
I'm going to hang around Danny Fernando and see if the ghost shows up at the gym. I don't know what else to do. I spend all the rest of Monday at Sparky's watching boxers box and trainers train. Men drift in and out. A linen supply driver brings in a load of clean towels and stands beside me.