Broadway Is My Beat: William Powell Solves a Locked-Room Killing

Thank you.

The finest show we have ever held with nearly twice as many dog sphinxs as last year. Refreshments are being served at the marquee at the west end.

Of the grounds.

Refunds ready in ring number two. Next event, number 729. Collies bred by exhibitors. Have your dogs ready. Quiet, please, during the judging.

Attention, please.

Judging in ring one. Event number 728, Scottish Terriers, American Red Dolls. Great Danes in ring number two, Great Scots in ring number one. This is number 292, Captain McTavish, shown by the owner, the well-known fancier, Mr.

Kylo Vance, whose.

Kennel comprises some of the finest campaigners in America.

That's fine.

Up to your right.

That's great.

Sorry, boys, but these are not trophies.

Hold it right there.

Thank you, thank you so much.

Time to go now. I can stand one dog, but this president is getting on my nerves. Don't be impatient, darling.

We'll have plenty of time for dinner.

Hold the gun. Two and a half.

So... Event number 728. A blue ribbon won by Gillespie of Heatherstone. Dundee Devler is runner-up, and Midlothian gentleman receives the special. Better luck next time, Mr.

Vance.

Don't be downhearted, Captain.

You're still champing with me.

Maybe we'll have better luck in Italy, huh?

Good luck, Vance. I was hoping to have the pleasure of meeting you tomorrow. Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Cole. Perhaps you'll get to tip a competition from Sir Thomas MacDonald.

Perhaps.

I want to borrow Mr. Morn for a second.

But, Mr. Hatch, you know Mr. Hatch, you don't want him with your body's dog.

Come in on and protect him if you like.

That's enough, Mr.

Thomas.

I wouldn't take on another witness. I think you're right, Sandy.

Get ready. Hold it. Thanks. Hello, Hilda.

Hello, Tal. Well, what's the idea?

Why don't we do a little private judging?

I don't imagine your uncle.

Would particularly approve of it.

I'm sure he wouldn't, Tal. Hold him in a minute, Tanny.

Let's take a quick look at him.

All right. Come on.

I'll see. What's your deal? Well, what do you think?

I think it's a pretty close thing.

I'm not worried.

Eh, Sandy? I think you're pretty safe, sir.

Here we are, sir.

What the devil do you think you're doing, Hilda?

What?

How do you do?

How do you do, sir?

I just wanted to prove that you're going to lose money to Tom when these two get into.

The ring tomorrow.

And have you proved it to your satisfaction?

So much so that I want you to loan me $ 1, 000 to place on Gilly.

Hilda! I've got a cheek for you. Want to bet against me with $ 1, 000 of my own money?

I wasn't asking you for your money. I merely want you to loan me some of mine.

As long as I control the purse strings, you're not going to do any betting against me. You'll be grateful that I've saved a few thousand of your fortune someday.

But don't raise your hopes too high, Hilda.

Bring that dog out here. I shouldn't let him worry you, my dear.

You know how I hate him, Tom. The things he's done to me. I despise him.

Now, let's see. Where did I put that?

Ah, there it is.

Unsolved murders. You know, I almost forgot it. I would have been able to sleep a wink tonight, wondering who murdered who and why. How any intelligent man can read that dribble is beyond me, Brisbane. What time does that Chicago train go? Five o'clock. Oh, it's 4.15. Oh, you've got plenty of time. Yes, I know, but I want to get out of here before Archie gets home.

Good afternoon, sir.

Afternoon.

Is my brother home?

Yes.

Yes, sir.

He's upstairs. Tell him I want to see him. Yes, sir. Your taxi's waiting, sir.

All right.

There's the bag.

Did you get those reservations? Yes, sir.

And Mr.

Archer told me to tell.

You he wants to see you, sir. Oh, he did, eh?

You tell him I don't want to see him.

Tell him I said so. In those words, sir. Exactly. Unless you can think of something stronger. Yes, sir.

Of course.

Of course, it's none of my business, President. But I wouldn't talk that way in front of Campbell. I don't trust him. I just couldn't resist it. I'd like to see the look on Archer's face when he tells him. I wouldn't.

How the deuce can you.

Stand it here? Why, there wouldn't be enough money in the world to compensate me for being Archer Coe's secretary. Oh, he's not as bad as all that. Hey, you'd better be getting along. If something's carrying loyalty too far, don't forget, I overheard a few of his choice remarks to you when you dared suggest that you were in love with Hilda and wanted to marry her. I'm afraid you're taking Arthur a little too seriously, old man. Will you deliver my message? I thought it best to wait till you would take me away, sir. Do you mind dropping me off?

I have an engagement with Hilda for dinner.

Come ahead.

All aboard!

Albany Bridge!

Stanford!

Great Falls! New London! New River! Westbridge!

Here's the thomas mcdonald news apparently something terrible's happened so gilly's gone what and i cannot find him they'll take him.

Off the bench.

He didn't break that lock himself, either. I haven't been away from that dog for ten minutes all day, sir. I just went into the restaurant to get a wee sandwich, and when I come back, he was gone.

Sir Thomas?

Yes? I think we found him, sir. Where? Out in the alley, sir. Okay.

This way, sir.

Here he is. I'll kill the man who did.

This.

Listen, Tom, you.

Mustn't do anything until you're sure, please.

I've got my own ideas.

Oh, I know Uncle Arch is mean and cruel, but I can't believe he'd do a thing like this.

Hello? I'm sorry, but Mr. Artico isn't here. Your dog's dead. I'm terribly sorry. I'll try to locate him at once.

Go away from.

Me, you.

Get out of here.

Get out. From now on, it is your apartment. All yours. I'm getting out.

For good.

Ah, Mr.

Crow. My dear friend, I.

Yes, I see you are. Baradone? Yes. Oh, I am, how do you say it, Panto Alegre. I came to see you.

I received a cable.

From Milan authorizing me to complete the deal for your Chinese collection and confirming the price of $ 117, 000. Means decorations and all that sort of thing from a very grateful government, I suppose. Oh, a little mentor.

But it's no good now, of course.

I've changed my mind. Oh, but you have promised me you can't go back on your word. What will I tell my people? What will I say? I'm afraid you didn't think of this before. You might have been a little more discreet, eh, Grassy?

You assigned a contract with me.

Too bad for you. It's still at my home, in my safe. Oh, but you will most certainly destroy it.

Tonight, I'll tell you what I'll do.

I'll give you Miss Delafield for nothing. Hey, Leanne, at it again, eh? I was led to believe that a cook's place is in the kitchen. The next time I... I have been expecting my dismissal, Mr. Cole. We have served our purpose, these priceless treasures and I. I overheard Mr. Reed saying you were preparing to sell this whole collection.

You've been listening at the keyhole, have you?

You cannot sell them, Mr. Cole. Do you think I would have desponded my ancestors, perched my soul... That's the worst of your race, a pack of mawkish sentimentalists about your ancestors.

I don't need you tonight.

Go on, get out. I would suggest that you take a look at this.

Mr.

Cole. Mr.

Cole.

Breakfast, Mr. Cole.

Breakfast.

Mr.

Reed. Mr.

Reed!

Mr.

Reed!

Oh, there they damn well.

Mr.

Cole.

Mr.

Arthur Cole has killed himself. Killed himself? When and how?

He's sitting in there like on.

The door's bolted. You're positive? Yes, sir. In his bedroom. Phone the police.

Yes, sir.

Hello?

Give me police headquarters, quick.

How was I, Sergeant Miller speaking?

Wait a minute.

Wait a minute. I don't get you.

Take it easy.

All right.

Suicide. Suicide?

Wait a minute. You're not going to run out on this hand. Yep. Oh. Archers Cole. 98 East 71st Street. Okay, I got you. Is that it, Sergeant? Yeah. Well, goodbye, Ernest. Sergeant, easy you, cop. Kick in on that six-pitch.

Oh, relax, will you?

This is your case, Sergeant.

You better get the boys out. 9871st Street? That's right. All right, come on. Tell Dr.

Ramis to hurry right off to 9871st Street.

East?

Yes. I got it.

Daily Mail?

Give me City Dep. Calling car 18, car 18. Times? Jolietta. 98 East 71st Street. Last night, Archie Cole committed suicide. Proceed immediately and call your station for instructions. Aaron Warmer with light-demanded winds from New York to the Kennedy today and tomorrow.

And now for the latest news flash.

Archer Cole, the well-known sportsman and collector, committed suicide last night at his home 98 East 71st Street. His body was discovered by the butler at 8 this morning when.

He took up a breakfast tray.

No reason has been advanced for this action as Mr. Cole was in excellent health and had no financial trouble.

No news has been received.

Is the LAN port still connected? Yes, sir. But it will be disconnected in about two minutes, sir.

I see.

Hello? Hello, Markham.

Hello, Ben.

I thought you were on your way to Italy.

I am.

I say, Markham, I just heard about Archer Cole. Yes. Too bad he had to bump himself off like that. That's why I called you. Are you sure that he did bump himself off? Well, his butler tells us he's sitting in a locked room with a revolver in his hand and a bullet in his head. I don't know what else you'd call it.

I don't want to butt into.

Your affairs, but aren't you a bit hasty in jumping to that conclusion? Hasty? Why?

Well, if you knew, Archie Coe, you.

Would know that suicide is almost a psychological impossibility for him. Psychological posh. A two and two make four, don't they? Well, how do you know you have two and two? Just let me point out to you. Oh, point out the Statue of Liberty.

Say then.

Hello?

Hello? The land phone has been disconnected, sir.

Oh.

Uh, will.

You have my luggage brought up? Yes, sir. Stewart, just south of the side of the shore. I've decided not to sail. Sir. Vance, you've been right about a lot of cases in the past, but I can't end up smiling at you getting off that boat and giving up a swell trip all because of a hunch. As a matter of fact, Mark, more of a hunch.

Huh? Oh.

With Archer Cole only yesterday. What? Where? The Long Island Kennel Club. Now, I can't conceive of a man on the verge of suicide being very deeply concerned over winning a championship at a dog.

Show, can you?

What do you mean? Simply this. As late as yesterday afternoon, Archer Coe was looking forward with the keenest anticipation to winning a blue ribbon from Sir Thomas MacDonald today. Sir Thomas MacDonald.

Say, wasn't it his dog that was found dead last night?

Right. And Archer Coe found dead this morning. You suppose there might be some connection there? I don't know. But if someone were to try to kill Captain McTavish, I'd probably turn murderer to myself, wouldn't I, Captain?

Hello, Mr.

Markham. I got your message to hold everything up. What's the idea? Hello, Mr. Vance. Good morning, Sergeant. Well, it's been a long time. Several years. I might have known it would be you, the world's champion troubleshooter.

Now, come on, boys.

Come inside.

Well, Chief, this is another just-opened-shop case.

Mr. Reed, the secretary. This is Gamble, the butler.

Yes, sir.

Mr.

Markham, the district attorney. How do you do, sir? And, uh, Mr.

Vance.

How do you do? Everything just as it was? Well, they said they haven't touched anything. We thought it best to leave everything intact, sir. Good.

Where's the room?

Upstairs, this way, please. You, uh, be the district host, sir. Yep, he's there, all right. Just like I told the police on the phone. I tried the door, found it locked, looked through the keyhole, and there he was, dead. I think this is a job for you, Sergeant. Certainly, Mr. Van. Well, Tennessee, what are you standing there for, your health?

Mistakes deep.

All right. Congratulations, Sergeant. What is this, a bedroom or a museum? More junk here than a Chinese Josh house. I trust I did the right thing, sir, by not breaking down the door. I realized I could be of no help to him. Oh, he's been quite dead for hours. Won't himself know if that's plain enough. Certainly looks that way, Vance.

I'm afraid your trip was spoiled for nothing. I think not, Markham. This may prove far more interesting. than a trip to Europe. You carry a gun? No, sir.

You?

Yes, sir, but only if I for the protection of the household. Is that it?

Why, I... Come on.

No, that was Mr.

Arthur. But he always kept it in the desk drawer downstairs. I saw it yesterday morning as I was putting away some paper.

Oh, you did, eh?

Did Mr. Cole generally keep his windows locked? Why, no, sir. As a matter of fact, he was a great believer in fresh air. Ah, indeed. I wonder if these gentlemen would mind waiting downstairs. Certainly not.

I'm sorry we.

Had to damage your door. That's quite all right. It's easy repair. I'd have it attended to.

At once, sir.

And if he sees a known need of the house without my permission, I. It's as plain as a nose on your face. This guy locked himself in here and blew out his brains. I wish I could agree with you, Sergeant. How the devil could it be anything but suicide? It was all very well for you to theorize before we got here, man.

But now that you've seen this and there are no signs of a struggle... And the door open on the inside and no means of entrance to the room. Ah, nor the means of entrance.

All right, you are, Sergeant.

But we can hardly call a second story window a.

Means of entrance.

And nothing here that even a human fly could crawl up. So why should Archer Cole lock his window? Particularly if he was a fresh air enthusiast. I'm afraid your reasoning is not altogether convincing.

Well, perhaps so.

But doesn't it strike you as rather odd that a man should suddenly decide to commit suicide while changing from his street clothes to pajamas?

Well, why not?

A man debating suicide might get partially undressed and walk up and down for hours trying to make up his mind. Yes, he might walk up and down for hours, but not with one shoe half off him. No, Markham. Something stopped him as he was removing that shoe. This was supposed to suggest suicide, but someone miscalculated. But you can't get away from that bolted door. I wish I could. The way you figure it out, the man was murdered. As soon as the killer is gone, he gets up, goes and bolts the door, plants himself in a comfortable chair with a loaded gun in his hand to suggest suicide.

That's a swell theory. Hello, Gamble. What is this? What's happened? Something terrible has happened, Miss Lake. Hilda.

What is it, Raymond?

What is it?

It's your Uncle Archie, Hilda. He killed himself last night. Where? They're upstairs.

Hey, don't touch that body, miss.

Oh, Mr. Vance.

How do you do, Miss Lake?

This is Mr.

Markham, the district attorney. How do you do? Miss Lake is Coe's niece. I'm sorry, Miss Lake, but you mustn't touch anything until the medical examiner arrives. It's against regulations.

Is it also against regulations to tell me what's happened?

We arrived only a few moments ago. We found your uncle as you see him. It has every appearance of suicide.

I doubt it.

Do you know of anyone who would have reason to kill your uncle? Yes, I had for once. Why, Miss Lake?

Because he stood in the way of everything I wanted. He made my life miserable because he held the purse strings.

And because.

because he was jealous of every man who came near me. I was afraid of him.

Oh, the horrible nights I've spent in this house.

Are we to accept your comment to the confession of murder, Miss Lake? Look here, Markham, that's ridiculous.

Please, Raymond.

I think I can handle this situation myself.

When we found your uncle, Miss Lake, the door was bolted from the inside.

Bolted inside? Oh. Maybe he did shoot himself.

Can't you make up your mind? Do you know of anyone else who felt as you do about your uncle?

Practically everyone he came in contact with.

He was ruthless. He wanted his own way in everything. I imagine there are plenty of Chinese.

Who will be glad to know that his collecting days are over. Ask our cook.

I shall.

Can he think of anyone else?

Well, Uncle Brisbane shared my feelings toward him, I'm sure.

Where is this Brisbane guy? Maybe he decided to do something about it. That's impossible. He's on his way to Chicago. He left on the 5 o'clock train yesterday afternoon. He'll be just about getting there by now.

Well, you'd probably like to wire him, wouldn't you?

Why, yes, of course. Is that all? Before the present, yes. Supposedly check up on a Brisbane on that Chicago train. Won't take me but a minute. Hello? Come on, Simpson. Get your feet off the boss's desk and jump down to Grand Central. All right, I get this. Yes, Mr.

Heath.

Langham Hotel, Chicago?

Yes, sir.

I'll rush the call.

Hold the line, please.

Oh, yes, Mr. Heath. We're expecting Mr. Brisbane Cole this morning. Oh, yes. He wired for a reservation last night. Thank you.

Goodbye. Yes.

He took 5 o'clock train, all right.

Good.

You know, there's a few things I'd like to find out about this girl, Hilda Lake.

Why are you always trying to check up on him?

I'm not trying to check up on you, Hilda.

I want to help you.

You know how I feel about you. You know that I love you. But lately you seem to have changed. Every time I want to speak to you about marriage, you evade me. What's on your mind? Oh, nothing, nothing.

Raymond, I never said I'd marry you.

But I thought that now we... Well, that I could take you away from here.

You might as well know now as later. When all this is cleared up, I'm going to marry Tom McDonald. Oh... Oh, try to understand, Raymond.

I'm sorry.

Oh, don't tell me. Come on, don't try to kill us. Suicide, my eye. Was the D.A.M. still from Vance on the job? It's suicide, and that's that. Oh, come on. Have a cigar. It's still suicide.

Hey, wait a minute.

Are you a reporter? No, I'm Stolzenberg. I'd like to talk to the officer in charge here. Oh, come on inside.

Why didn't you stay away from here?

And leave you to face this thing alone?

But you promised me last night you wouldn't come here. Won't you go, please? I can bluff it through. I don't want the police asking you questions.

I know all the answers.

Oh, but please go, for my sake.

Let's forget about it, shall we? It's too late now in any case. The police are guarding every entrance. Wait a moment.

You can cross through that yard and get to your apartment. No one will see you. Take the first boat to England and I'll join you as soon as I can.

Watch out for those newspaper men, Sir Thomas. They're even deadlier than the police. I had no intention of leaving.

Ah, good.

Oh, by the way, I was sorry to hear about the death of your dog last night. Oh, thanks. You didn't by any chance discuss it with Archer Cole, did you? No. If I had, I might have killed him. Well, did you? That's your problem.

Hello, Dad.

Hello, Kelsey.

Where have you been? I haven't seen you for a long time.

Working hard.

What kept you so long? Did you walk all the way? You always pick on me at meal time.

I was in the middle of cakes and sausage.

What have you got?

Just plain suicide.

This guy locked himself in the room, bumping himself off.

Suicide? Then why didn't you let me finish my breakfast? Hello, Doc. Hello, Markham. All you need is an order to remove the bottle. If you told me that over the phone, I'd have sent my assistant. Mr. Markham told me to phone you personally. Don't crap at me about it. I'll give you the approximate hour of the death, if you want it. That's a big order to be it up. And the routine autopsy, we can do tomorrow. It's just a case of suicide.

Why do you jump to that conclusion, Doctor?

I know a dead man when I see one.

Besides, the door was bolted.

I know.

The door was bolted on the inside. But what about the body? Hadn't you better have a look at it? I was going to. I'm a doctor, not a detective. This man is dead with a bullet hole in his right temple. He's holding a gun in his right hand.

Just the kind of wound that might have been self-inflected.

The position is natural, and the door was locked on the inside. Well, let me see. That's strange. Did you find something to disturb him, Doctor?

Plenty.

There's blood in his mouth. And he's got a skull fracture from some club-like instrument. Well, what about the bullet wound in his temple?

There's no blood there.

That's so. Gentlemen, when that.

Bullet entered this man's head, he had been dead for hours.

Can you place a time of his death?

I'd say from eight to twelve hours ago.

Would you say that the revolver was placed in his hand before the immortal set in? Yes.

Did he die from the effects of the blow on the head?

No. Probably rendered him unconscious for a while, but that wouldn't have killed him. Not powerful enough. The blow didn't kill him, the bullet didn't kill him, and yet he's dead. Suppose we try to find out just what did kill him.

Glad you thought of that, Mr.

Banks.

It's not a bad idea. Perhaps I'd better take another look.

Just a minute, Doc. Please.

Ready?

Give me a hand, Sergeant.

Help me lift the body up.

What do you want to do? What do you want to do?

All right, boy.

There couldn't have been much of a struggle.

His hair isn't even messed.

Maybe somebody slugged him and then combed his hair. Right, George. Now I've got it. Stabbed. Below the left shoulder blade. Near the spine. There's no external bleeding.

Internal hemorrhage, huh?

That's it. What do you think of the suicide theory now, Ferdinand?

Well, it's slightly complicated. He was shot, slugged, and stabbed himself.

Particularly in the back. Yeah, it's very complicated.

Oh, Markham.

Yeah.

You see, there's no hole in the back of his pajama jacket. So he couldn't have been wearing that when he was stabbed to get fed. There's a hole in the back of his coat. And another in his waistcoat. Bloodstained. He must have been fully dressed when he was attacked. That's me out.

I finished.

I suppose you want a quick autopsy? Yes. Get that body down to the log as soon as possible. Good day, gentlemen. Good day.

Now, yes?

Do you think there's any possible chance of that being suicide? What? All right, all right. Just a fair question, big boy.

I don't think so.

Yeah.

I have that dead wife. Right.

Enter the portal on that wire.

Not yet, Sarge.

Send a wire to this guy, Markham, 98 East 71st Street, New York City. And tell him, um, there's Ben Cole not aboard this train. Wireless conductor, train number seven. Sit down. What time did Brisbane call leave for Chicago? In time to catch the 5 o'clock train, sir. How do you know he caught the 5 o'clock train? I phoned for the reservation, brought him his walking stick and overcoat, and put his bag in the taxi.

Ah.

Did you remain in the house all evening? Why, no, sir.

I went out about 6.30.

It was a servant's night off. Everyone was out to dinner. Did you notice anything unusual in Mr. Brisbane's manner when he left? Now that you mention it, he was distracted and very irritable. You say you gave him his stick?

Yes, sir.

What kind of stick? His favorite. An ivory-handled one. He never went anywhere without it, sir. You're quite sure he took that particular stick with him? Positive. I handed it to him myself, sir. Did you see him when he returned here last evening? Returned?

Yes.

I didn't know he had returned, sir. Then whose ivory-headed stick is that hanging over that chair in the hall?

Steady down.

Steady, Gamble. Steady. Is this it?

Is it? Yes, sir.

I can't understand it. I suppose you saw nothing of his bag. Why, no, sir.

What if he brought his cane back here? What did he do with his bag? Ah, very good, Sergeant. That's just the point. He undoubtedly left it somewhere. But where? I should think the most logical place would be the check room at the Grand Central Station.

What kind of a bag was it?

Just an ordinary pigskin bag, sir, with his initials B.C. on it. Is that it? Yeah, that looks like it. There's your police department receipt. What time was this checked? 4.45.

Thanks, pal.

Okay. Well, here it is. Put it here. Did you handle the contents?

No, I brought it.

Right up here. I'll open it. Did you find out what time this was checked?

Yes.

There you are. 4.45. You must have gone direct from the house and the station. Did the attendant remember who left this?

No, he said there were so many of them that most of the time he didn't even.

Notice the people. Well, there's shaving kit, shirts, underwear, socks, collars, slippers. Nothing in there that a man wouldn't ordinarily take with him on a short trip. Except this, perhaps. Unsolved murders. That's a swell book to take to Chicago. That's rather odd, isn't it?

Yes, more than that.

Gentlemen, the mist is beginning to rise.

I think I know at least a part.

Of what happened here last night. How about this? Let's say that Brisbane Co. started for Chicago on a night when he knew that no one but Archer would be at home. He missed his train purposely, checked his bag at the station, and returned here to kill his brother. To make a perfect alibi, he planned to take a later train to Chicago. But something stopped him. And something stopped Archer Cole before he could remove his shoes last night.

You see what I mean? Those shoes of Archer's, that bag of Brisbane's, his stick hanging there in the hall that shouldn't have been there. Just a minute. Oh, Gamble. Where did Mr. Brisbane usually put his hat and overcoat when he came in? He always hung them in the closet, sir. Which closet? This one.

Oh!

Mr. Brisbane. Well, Mr.

Vance, where are we now?

I should say somewhere in the middle of the Gobi Desert. Hello.

What?

Again? I'm not in the middle of my lunch. First you interfere with my breakfast, then you'll ruin my lunch. Don't you boys ever eat? No. I'm on a diet. Oh, all right. Hello. All right, I'll attend to that later. Get me the wagon and the fingerprint gang. Just a minute, fellas. One side. Just a moment, please.

Ready?

That's all? All right, go ahead.

Here.

He's been dead for hours.

And me thinking all the time he was playing possible. Well, there's too many people in the world anyway.

Mr.

Vance, this is just ordinary junk. I'm afraid so. I'd rather hope for something important. Which one of the two victims died first, I think? Archie Cole, I think.

This one, a little later.

And the weapon? Say, sharp and narrow. Okay. I can lift these. I think I'd better fingerprint everything inside and outside here. Right.

Anity.

Yes. Look for a sharp, narrow weapon. Found something? Boy, it looks like fishing tackle. It's tackle, all right, but not fishing. Markham was dealing with a shrewd brain. The technique for this crime was very cleverly worked out. But something went wrong.

Sergeant, here's your order.

Rule above.

Thanks, Sergeant. So long.

I want food.

Well, nobody's stopping you. And if you've got any more corpses, bring them out now, will you? I can't be running up and down here all day. What do you mean, running up and down all day with that swell car the city gave you?

Nothing upset the doctor.

Hiya, Captain. Going in to take charge? Well, if you hurry up and solve this case, maybe I can go home.

Come on.

I can handle everything if I don't get too much information.

Oh, Markham. Yes? You just arrived for a demonstration. I think I can show you how Brisbane Co. used this fishing tackle. He started with Chicago and then he's provided an alibi. He had other plans in this room. What's this? This is attached to the string.

I am now pulling through the keyhole.

If you follow the string, you will see that it.

Passes around the pin in the wall. This act is a poking, and.

It's also attached to a string passing through the keyhole. You see, the bolt is now being forced into its socket.

Upon my word.

I now pull the first.

String through the keyhole, and then the second string. And with it comes the pin, leaving no evidence.

Now let me in.

It worked.

Yes, it worked. Well, that explains that. Very clever. It could have been done that way. But if Brisbane killed Archer Cole, who killed Brisbane and hung him in the closet? Why did he do it? That's what we want to find out, isn't it?

Exactly.

Yeah.

Gentlemen, two persons planned.

The murder of Archer Cole. Two? What? But their paths crossed. Brisbane was one of them. The other? I've got it.

The Chinese cook.

They're full of those tricks.

I got this.

With a blunt instrument. This poker would answer that description, wouldn't it? Yes, and that certainly looks like dried blood. It certainly does. But what about those short, coarse hairs? They don't look like coals. No. Well, Mr. Vance, why didn't you find that when you looked in there this morning?

It wasn't in there this morning. Besides, it doesn't belong in this room. It belongs downstairs in the library. What's the matter with you? This dog's been struck a nasty blow. That explains the coarse hair on the poker. Whose dog is this?

I don't know.

I mean, I've often seen it in the vacant lot, sir. Just tell the truth, Campbell.

Yes.

Why don't you? It belongs to the lady next door, sir. Now, Gamble, let's have a name for the lady next door. Doris Della Field.

Yes, I'm Miss Della Field. Won't you sit down, gentlemen?

Thank you. I'm sorry I didn't win you a trophy at the dog show. You're quite a fancier, aren't you?

Yes, somewhat.

I'm interested in one of your dogs. The Doberman.

You mean Figaro.

I wonder if I can have a look at him.

I'm terribly sorry. You know, he slipped his leash last night and ran away. I've notified the police. My maid's been scouring the neighborhood trying to find him.

Well, did she inquire at Mr.

Coe's house next door? Well, I don't know. You and Mr. Coe have been good friends, haven't you?

I know him.

Why? Your dog was found in his house this morning badly wounded.

What?

Have you any idea how he got there?

No.

Do you suppose he would follow someone into the house? Well, I hardly think.

Now, what are you driving at? Mr.

Archie Cole and his brother were murdered last night. Murdered?

I was afraid that.

Just a moment.

Hello.

Is that Miss Doris Delafield's apartment? Would you please tell Miss Delafield that we couldn't get the reservation for her and Mr. Grassi on A deck? And ask her if B deck would be satisfactory. Miss Delafield will not be sailing. You can cancel a reservation for them both.

Both?

Do you mind telling me whom the other reservation was for?

I refuse to answer that question.

Would it be Mr. Grassi? But I am, Mr. Grocky. And if I didn't cancel those reservations, who did?

What?

Miss Della Peel? Oh, no, no, no, she didn't. No, really, there's been a mistake. As soon as I can find out about this, I'll call you back. I don't think you'll find Miss Della Peel at home just now. As for the cancellation of your steamship reservations, we regret very much that it was necessary.

Who are you?

This is Mr.

Markham, the district attorney.

I'm honored, but I'm afraid I don't quite understand. It's about this.

As a matter of fact, Mr.

Cole didn't commit suicide.

He was murdered.

Murdered? Would you mind coming along with us? Just a little matter of comparing fingerprints. No, not in the least.

I think that's all.

Found anything yet?

The one taken from the doorknob is too blurred for identification, but this one is very clear. It appears to be that of Liang, the Chinese cook.

Any luck?

No, not yet.

It must be here somewhere.

I'm positive that the dagger that Jim LeCoultre belongs in our sheath.

Well?

That's strange. What is? The King Yard Vase is missing. It's the most valuable in the whole collection.

That's all that's left of.

It.

Am I not mistaken? That's blood.

Blood?

Malcolm, I'm coming more and more to the belief that Archer Cole was killed in this room. That poker, this daggish number of fragments, all here. But Vance, do you mean to tell me that the dead man walked upstairs? I'm not trying to tell you anything but the facts. It's the most remarkable case in my experience.

Find anything, Cap? Yes, sir.

Plenty. Oh, Mr. Reed. Yes, sir. Would you step in for a moment, please? Certainly.

The book?

No, thanks. Did you notice that the Ting Yao was missing? Missing? My wife was here yesterday evening. At what time? At about 6.30 or 7 o'clock. I came back to talk to Mr. Cole. About what? Well, as a matter of fact, I... I wanted to quit my job as his secretary. Oh, you'd been having some difficulties with him? It was rather a personal matter. I wanted his permission to marry Miss Lake.

What did he say to that? Hmm. He ordered me out. You went?

Yes.

Where?

I went to find Miss Lake. I thought she was at the Kennel Club, but I had a puncture. Yes, it was rather late when I got there. She'd already left with Thomas McDonald. Then I came home and went directly to bed.

Did you hear anything or see.

Anything when you came into the house? No, but after I'd been in bed for a while, I heard some noises downstairs. I opened the door and looked down, but it was only Liang, the Chinese cook, coming in. Was he customarily noisy in entering the house? Indeed. Well, I think... Thank you. Thank you. there's nothing i can do to help let me know i think i'd check up on that chemical alibi i will you might have those fragments check the fingerprints you will yes meanwhile i'll do a little exploring in the kitchen.

Mr.

Vance, I thought... Markham.

Mr.

Liang, I believe.

You're the cook.

Me cook. You can drop the pitch in English. That isn't necessary with me. Where did you go to school? Columbia University. Ah, that's considerable education for a cook, isn't it? because I know a great deal about Chinese porcelain. Ah, I see. That's a very lovely piece of Qingyao, isn't it? How did it get broken?

I don't know, sir.

I found the pieces in the wastebasket in the library.

You want to leave that?

Oh, yes.

See that, Michael? More but spots on the inside. Apparently, the murderer dropped the dagger in here to hide it. But he dropped it too hard, and the vase broke. When did you find these pieces? This morning. This morning. You're sure it wasn't last night about... Clark, did I say? No, sir. I did not get in until after midnight. I'm sure Mr.

Reed or Mr. Gamble will tell you that. What time did you find the poker? The poker? Yes, the poker. The one you hid in a Chinese chest in Mr. Archer's room this afternoon. But I don't know what you mean. Oh, yes, you do. I was behind the door in that room when you hid it. Let me handle this, Mr. Vance.

Are you going to talk... What do I have to make you? Wait.

I'll tell you the truth.

Well, stand up. When I returned to my room here about 8 o'clock last night... Ah, I thought so. I heard angry muffled voices in the library. Then a dull sound as of someone falling. I stood at my door here and listened. Then I heard footsteps cross the kitchen and go out the back door. And then? I walked up the corridor and everything was very quiet.

I opened the.

Library door and looked in. The furniture was overturned. The poker was there, the desk was disarranged, and the valuable 10U vase was broken. I thought there must be something wrong, so I went upstairs and looked into Mr. Koh's bedroom. He was dead. Fearing that I might be suspected, I went back to the library and picked up the broken pieces of the vase, and together with the poker, I took them to my room. And knowing that you were alone in the house, you were afraid you might be suspected.

So you hid the weapons and left. Yes, sir. You returned to the house about midnight. And purposely made a lot of noise so as to establish your alibi. Is that right? Yes, sir. All right, then. Where did you put the dagger? I did not find the dagger. Don't give me that. What did you do with it after you stuck it in Archie Cole's back?

I've got it, Mr.

Markham.

Yes?

What? The fingerprint on this broken fragment belongs to the Italian, Eduardo Brussi.

Well, Mr.

Vance, looks like somebody else miscalculated. Yep, it fits. That doesn't prove anything. What about this?

Where did you get it?

It was in Archie Cole's pocket. What were you doing outside the drawing room window last night? I wanted to be sure that he was alone.

Why?

For weeks we had.

Been negotiating for the sale of his collection to the museum at Milan. It meant everything to me. He kept raising the price, but on Monday we came to an understanding. And I came to the museum that I had succeeded. And last night he turned me down because he saw me with Miss Delafield.

Let me explain. Artie was extremely jealous of me.

Well, you can't blame him for that. You went there to threaten him, didn't you? Sure, I had every right to do. I told him I would use any means to make him profer his contract. He laughed at me. Said that he would smash every piece in his collection before he'd let me have it. So you picked up the poker and did a little smashing on your own account, eh?

I did not.

Let me have the fragment. Thank you. You know how that was broken? King Young was? With bloodstains on the inside and your fingerprint on the outside. I don't know. Sergeant, I think you'd better book him.

Right.

Thank you. Come on. Let's get out of that monkey tube. Let's get going, come on. Don't worry, I'm not running away.

You telling me?

I suspected the Italian all along. Exactly. But why should Grassi also stab Brisbane?

And what about the Dobermans? You see, Morgan, we have nearly all.

The pieces of the puzzle, but none of them seems to fit.

Here we are.

I just want to see where this goes.

What do you think, sir?

Gamble?

By the way, uh.

How long have you been using that name? All my life, sir. Dubois checked Gamble's fingerprints at the identification bureau, and who do you think he turns out to be? Not Gamble? No. Atlantic Eddie. He used to work the boats on both sides of the ocean. Honestly, Mr. Vance, I haven't heard a trick in five years. Oh, that's all right, Eddie.

I just wanted to let you know that we're old pals. Sir, someone slipped in the back door and went into one of the front rooms. Well, Miss Detherfield.

Don't be surprised, gentlemen. I'm used to coming in here like this.

You seem to know your way around here pretty well.

As a district attorney, you're responsible for this case, aren't you?

That's right.

Well, I'm tired of detectives. I'm tired of being spied on. All you want to know is who killed Arthur Coe, isn't it?

Naturally.

Well, I did.

What?

Yes.

And there isn't a jury on earth will convict me when they hear my story. You don't believe me, do you? You were wondering this afternoon how my dog, Figaro, could get into this house.

Well, he was following me.

He was defending me when he was struck.

Where did you kill Mr. Cole? In his bedroom. What kind of lipstick do you use? Lipstick?

What's that got to do with it?

Is that yours?

Yes, that's mine. While I was cuddling with Arthur, my bag dropped on the floor and everything spilled out.

Won't do, Miss Delafield. It's an old trick.

It's not a trick.

I didn't realize that you were so fond of Mr. Grassi.

Mr. Grassi has nothing to do with it. Take me down to the station. I say nothing more until I.

Get an attorney.

Help!

This guy's been stabbed, Henry.

Is this it, Mr. Vance?

Yes, that's it.

Thank you very much. First you spoil my breakfast. Then you break up my lunch. Now, you pull me out of bed in the middle of the night, and this fellow not even dead. Why don't you put that in your report, Doc? Your fingerprints will never pick up on that silk handle. But it fits perfectly. Where do you find it, Sergeant? Under the bed. Congratulations. That's all right, Mr. Grant.

Three crimes with the same weapon, Markham. Tom, what is it?

What's happened?

I don't know, dear.

Somebody stabbed me.

Is it serious, doctor?

Oral.

I gave him three grains of sodium amytose to quiet his nerves.

He'll be all right.

I'd like to rent a room here till they finish this case.

Poor darling. I wish I hadn't got you mixed up in all this.

You shouldn't have come here. Let me see this through alone.

I won't leave you. Can't we get away from here?

We leave tomorrow. Together. What do you think about him now? Well, the thrust punctured the median bacillic vein and caused the hemorrhage. Could the wound have been self-inflicted, Doctor? I'm the city butcher, not the detective. Don't bother me. me with any murders after three tomorrow. I'm going to.

The World Sealing.

Hey, Doc, hold me the score between your knees, will you? Get these people out of this. What are they waiting for? We just want to ask you a few questions, Sir Tom. You say that when you were stabbed, you saw nothing, Adam. That's right. It was dark. I heard a noise and jumped out of bed.

Somebody threw a chair.

And just missed my head and struck the window. I shouted for help and ran towards the door. Then I felt a sharp pain in my arm as I lost consciousness. Knife by a ghost. That's a hot one. I think he'd done it himself.

Oh, Dave.

That's not fair.

You know anything about that?

Where's your friend? Under your bed. I never saw it before. Yeah. Like I never saw a pair of handcuffs. You've no right to question him now in this condition. Rather funny. You see what I see in Artico's room? I have a suspicion that whoever killed Artico came from his house. Probably from this room. Gentlemen, I think I can fit the pieces of this jigsaw puzzle together. Now, here is East 71st Street. This is the coal house, the yard, and the apartment house next door. Now, let's have a look inside. This is a McDonald's apartment. Directly opposite is the window of Archer Crowe's bedroom. Underneath McDonald's apartment... The cozy little nest of Miss Delafield and her temporary guest, Mr. Grotty.

This is the elevator.

And here are the stairs that lead directly to the back entrance. From there, it's easy to reach the back entrance to the co-house across the yard. Now, that's the front hall. And here's the library. On Wednesday evening, between 7.30 and 8 o'clock, Archer Co. was sitting alone in that room. Remember, it was the servant's night off. The killer must have known this when he came in the back door. He was so intent upon what he was planning to do that he must have left the back door open because from somewhere in that vacant lot came a dog, a Doberman Pinscher, belonging to Doris Delafield. He saw the back door standing open and went in. Meanwhile, the killer was moving along the hall toward the library, making absolutely sure

that Archer Cole was alone. He knew exactly where he was going and exactly what he was going to do. He came so silently that it must have startled Archer Cole when he looked up and saw him carefully closing the door. It is my conjecture, gentlemen, that a terrible argument took place. Archer Cole must have struck him, and as he fell back, He picked up the poker as the first weapon that came into his hand. He struck Archer Coe in the head. Coe collapsed across the desk, his hands groping in the drawer.

Of the desk for his gun.

Then, in a blind rage of the moment, the killer saw a Chinese axe. He seized it and stabbed Archer Coe in the back. Coe probably felt the blow. Meantime, our Doberman Pinscher was coming closer and closer, probably attracted by the sound of a struggle.

In the library.

As the killer opened the door to escape, he saw the Doberman Pinscher in the hall coming toward him. He again picked up the poker as the dog entered the room.

Through the instinct of his breath.

The dog searched an enemy. He leaped. The killer struck. and the dog fell, badly wounded. Now he tried to hide the dagger in the ting-yau vein, but it was too hard, and the porcelain broke into bits. He picked up the dagger again and went out the same way he came in. Meanwhile, Coe slowly regained consciousness and pulled himself to his feet. You remember, gentlemen, that Dr. Dorema said Coe died of an internal hemorrhage. That is the key to the whole situation. Archer Cole, already a dying man, walked upstairs. And what is even more terrible, he did not know that he had been stabbed. He went to his room and, feeling a little faint probably, he removed his coat and vest and hung them in the closet

where we found them. He put on his pajama top and went to the window and raised the shade. Can you imagine the killer's emotions when from some place in the apartment house across the vacant lot, he looked over and saw the man he thought he had killed standing there at the window? He knew then that he had to go back and complete his job to save himself.

Feeling very faint by now, Archie Crow went from the window to the chair beside his desk where he sat down. There, he started to remove his shoes You remember just how we found him. In the very act of removing them, before he could get one of them entirely off, he died. I don't think he ever knew what killed him. Now we come to the most awful part of the tragedy.

Brisbane Cole came back to the house with a cleverly worked out plan for killing his brother. He also knew that it was a service night out and that he would not be disturbed. He went down the hall to the library, and from the drawer of the desk, he took Archer Coe's own revolver and put it into his pocket. Then, turning out the light on the desk, he went out of the room. He hung his stick over the chair in the hall and tiptoed up the stairs and into Archer Coe's room. He saw his brother sitting in his easy chair, apparently asleep. I can see him tiptoe across the room. and from somewhere just across the desk, he took out the revolver, and with careful aim, he pulled the trigger.

Meantime, the killer, believing that he had only.

Wounded Archer Cole, came back by the same route to finish his job. Then Brisbane closed the window, lowered the shade, and returning to the body, he carefully placed the gun in Archer's hand. as though it had been suicide. Then he went to the door, and with the two pieces of string, the pins, and the darning needle, he was able to bolt the door on the inside, just as I showed you. A very clever device, gentlemen, which he had discovered in the book of unsolved murders, which we found in his suitcase.

Then, gentlemen.

Brisbane went on down the stairs, little knowing what awaited him there. The killer mistook Brisbane for Archer Cole and drove the dagger into Brisbane's back. Then to hide the body, he dragged it into the closet. I doubt if he even discovered his mistake until the next day. That's great. But who did all that?

Well, you can search me. I'm going through it. You can include me in that, Sergeant.

Haven't you got any ideas at all, Vance? Markham, it's a maze of conflicting clues. Any one of seven people might have done it. We couldn't convict seven people, Mr. Vance. You couldn't convict one with the evidence you've got. Gentlemen, I'm afraid we're completely stopped. Late. I hate to admit it, but it looks that way. Vance, in all the years we've worked together, I've never heard you say that before.

I know.

I'm sorry, Markham. Well, what are we going to do about it? I don't know. Are you sure you checked up on all the alibis? Every one of them. And you've gone over the fingerprint situation with your boy? Yes, sir. I have. He slipped up somewhere, Sergeant. But there must be something that we can get our teeth into. Markham, I suggest that you dismiss this case.

What?

Dismiss it? Yes, turn all the suspects loose. I can just see all the newspapers in this town screaming for a new district attorney. Well, we can probably cover you up all right, Mr. Markham. I said it was suicide all along. Yes, I know. We could put that solution on, but I hate to do it. All right, Sergeant. Go ahead.

Turn him loose. Turn him loose? Yes. Well, Mr. Vance, this is once we're both stuck.

When you give up.

Vance and something... Oh, I haven't given up.

I have another idea.

What?

If it works, I'll have your killer for you in half an hour. I'm going to arrange a little meeting with him now. What? But you let me dismiss all the suspects. That's just what I wanted you to.

Do.

Hello? This is Mr. Vance. I hope I haven't disturbed you. I wonder if you'd do me a little favor. Mr. Markham?

Yeah, can I sit here a minute?

That suicide story might work all right for Archer Cove, but I forgot all about Brisbane.

Well, never mind about that now. Just release Mrs.

Becks as I told you. All right. Yes. That's right.

At 4.30.

And just get him into an argument. Oh, I'll have him with me. I'm depending on his instinct. That's right. Thanks.

If we can catch him off his guard, I think he'll give himself away.

Come on, Markham. We've got to get there before 4.25. It's advanced. They're in the library now.

Oh, darling, let me help you.

All right.

Well, it's the first time we've used bloodhounds in police work since I wore high-button shoes. And red flannel underwear? Oh, I always wear red flannel underwear. So do I. I want your bridal suite on the... on the coronia. They're sailing at midnight. That's right. Thank you.

Sailing at midnight?

Lady MacDonald, is it the title that dazzles you so much? Or is it the fortune she'll inherit that makes her so attractive, Sir Thomas?

Raymond, are you crazy?

It isn't the first time a fortune has bought a title. If it so happens, I'm not in need of a fortune.

Possibly you are.

Raymond, you've no right to interfere this way.

No right? Well, I'll take that right. You think you're both sailing at midnight? Well, it won't work. You're going all right, Sir Thomas, but you're going along.

Really? Yes, and you're going now, all right?

Ah!

Hold him. Why did you kill him?

Why did you kill him?

I didn't mean to kill him.

But you did, eh?

I told you I didn't mean to kill him.

He struck me when I told him I wanted to marry Hilda.

And I lost my head. I hit him with a poker.

I don't remember anything after that.

What about Brisbane? There was a terrible mistake. And McDonald?

I still would.

Kill him if I couldn't.

There's your man, Sergeant.

You made a fatal mistake, Reed, when you reached for that poker. Somebody swiped my bracelets. You dropped them in the pantry.

Oh.

All right, Hennessy. Name down booking. I want to thank you very much for your cooperation. Not at all. It was Sir Thomas I telephoned from your office, Markham. He very cleverly helped to stage this little scene. We have to thank the dog for the rest.

Well, we did it.

Again, Mr.

Vance.

Congratulations, Sergeant.

Thank you.

I'll certainly mention you in my story to the papers. Thank you. Oh, that's all right, Mr.

Vance.

Broadway Is My Beat: William Powell Solves a Locked-Room Killing

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