Crime and Peter Chambers.
Created by Henry King, transcribed and starring Dane Clark.
A private investigator, duly licensed and duly sworn.
Peter Chambers.
You're a private eye. That's your business.
Anything else? That's for laughs.
There are no laughs in this one, not unless you're a ghoul.
Because you're strolling in a graveyard at midnight.
You're walking in a cemetery out on Long Island.
That's the job of work you're being paid for.
You've got a package in your left hand and a flashlight in your right.
Your imagination is starting to do nip-ups when you get an interruption.
What about the flashlight?
Yes, sir.
Now reach back and hand me that package.
Well, you're supposed to give me the word.
Word?
Well, them's my instructions, pal. A real melodramatic bit.
You're supposed to say a name.
Abner Reed.
Well, that's the jackpot answer. Reaching grab your prize.
And notice, please, I've still got my head turned.
And it better stay that way if you don't want holes in it.
And you stay the way you are for the next five minutes.
But you don't stay the way you are for the next five minutes for two reasons.
One, five minutes in a graveyard is like, say, five years on the French Riviera.
And two, you're blessed, or is it cursed, with a large lump of curiosity.
So you turn, and you don't turn a moment too soon because you drop.
You look to where Mr. Invisible disappeared, but you don't try to go after him because he's gone.
And all the way back to town, you ponder about why the guy took potshots at you.
You didn't see him. He made sure you didn't.
So why the extra precaution of a spray of bullets?
Well, he missed you, so you shrug it off, and pretty soon you're in town.
At the fancy Fifth Avenue mansion of Mrs. Abner Reed.
Well, back so soon, Mr. Chambers.
Mission accomplished, milady.
Come in. Please come in, sir.
Mrs. Abner Reed.
Born Florence Fleetwood Lovejoy.
Thrice married and rolling, you should pardon the expression, in mucho dinero.
Worth maybe 25 million bucks, and reputed to be stingy about the whole thing.
Here's your fee, Mr. Chambers, as per agreement. $1,000.
Thank you, ma'am. And now may I know what it's all about?
You know what was in that package?
Goulash for ghosts.
$250,000.
What?
A quarter of a million dollars.
Look, Mrs. Reed, you have a reputation for being, well, eccentric,
but business transactions in the middle of the night in a graveyard.
That wasn't exactly a business transaction, Mr. Chambers.
What then?
It was a delivery of ransom money.
What? You mean I'm mixed up in some kind of a cockeyed kidnapping?
Not exactly mixed up. You were an instrument of delivery.
A chore for which you've just been paid.
The police know about this?
Not yet.
Not yet? When do you expect to inform them?
Tomorrow morning.
Look, what happened here?
Well, last night, my husband stepped out for a newspaper.
He didn't return for two hours.
Naturally, I was perturbed.
Naturally.
I thought, well, perhaps he'd stepped into a tavern for a drink.
But then I got a phone call.
He'd been slugged, rendered unconscious, and kidnapped.
How can you be sure?
There was no doubt.
It was he himself who was talking to me, with a gun pointed at his head.
I see.
I was told they'd called back this morning, and they did.
Would you be able to recognize the voice?
They're too smart for that.
They put him back on the phone.
The arrangements were made, and then came the question as to who would make the delivery.
You're very well known, Mr. Chambers, and yours is an excellent reputation.
Well, thank you.
They're supposed to return him to me during this night.
Quarter of a million dollars.
I'm regarded as, well, a rather frugal person, but this is different.
We've only been married six months, and I believe you know from the newspapers,
my husband is 20 years younger than I am.
Yes, Abner Reed, I read about it.
And I suppose you want me to clear out of here.
Frankly, I do.
But you are going to the cops with this.
Definitely. Tomorrow morning, whether he's returned to me or not.
At least then I'll know that I've done what I could to affect his release.
They warned me that I was being watched, that if I called in the police, they'd kill him.
Easy, easy, does it, Mrs. Reed, easy, easy.
Good night and thanks.
So you go home.
You feel sorry for the old gal with the young husband.
You think she's nuts not to contact cops, but you can't creep into another person's soul.
You go home and you have a bit of scotch and you chase it with another bit of scotch.
You've had a tough evening and you're ready to wrap up this day and put it to bed when...
In the middle of the night, you've got a caller.
That's the life of a private eye about as much privacy as a parakeet in a kindergarten.
But it can always be a client.
Somebody's turned off the car to lights and it's pitch black out there.
And suddenly the blackness is punctuated with blazes of light.
You're hit and you don't know how bad.
You get to the phone.
Hello, operator.
Hospital, hospital emergency.
You're under sedatives for a day while they probe for the bullets.
Then you're sitting up in the hospital bed rare and ago.
But they tell you five days, five days before they let you out of there.
And then you get a caller, amiable but worried looking.
Hi, detective. I hear you're coming around real good.
Hi, lieutenant. What brings you?
As if you didn't know.
He stares down at you.
Detective Lieutenant Parker, New York City Police.
Stern Square and a friend.
That Abner Reed shindig. I hear you were an innocent bystander in the cemetery.
Did they return the guy?
Yeah. None the worse for his experience.
Newspapers got it yet?
No. We're trying to work it through before it gets any publicity.
What kind of a guy is he, this Abner Reed?
Oh, nice enough kid. He used to be a dancing instructor.
That's how he met the lady with the bucks.
Has she been liberal with him?
Liberal as she can be, I suppose.
Rich, but plenty tightwad, that one.
What did he do for amusement before he got married?
Ran around a lot. Nightclub stuff and things.
Handsome kid. Figures for a lot of gals.
Why this line of questioning?
Trying to get an idea as to his background.
If it was hard guys that he used to run around with,
it might clue us to the brains behind this snatch.
It's all been done, M'ladden.
What we've come up with is a large selection of zeros.
Now, let's hear your story, huh?
You give it to him.
The whole deal and his face furrows up as he ponders it.
What makes you a target, Pete?
I wish I knew.
First the attempt at the cemetery, then the attack at your apartment.
You sure you told me everything?
Everything I know, Louie.
But I'm going to know more.
Somebody sets me up as a clay pigeon,
and it becomes my job to find out who's taking target practice.
Any objections, Lieutenant, to my sticking my nose into it?
As if my objections could keep you at.
Thanks, pal.
Okay, then I'll beat it. Now you get your rest.
But remember, when they let you out of here,
we work this one together, huh?
Sure enough, Lieutenant.
Anger and well-being seem to run hand in hand,
and as your health improves, so your anger mounts.
By the time you're out of the hospital,
your tent is a piano wire and fit to bust wide open.
You run around and ask questions.
You see Mrs. Reed several times.
The husband's in the nude or recuperating,
but Parker's interviewed him time and again
and has squeezed every possible fact out of him.
And now the husband's back in town,
but you're not wasting your time there anymore.
Parker's an expert, and Parker's already rung him dry.
So now you're sitting in your office
and thinking about your next move.
And then your next move is made for you.
Hello?
Mr. Chambers? Peter Chambers?
Yeah, this is he.
My name is Sandra Mantell.
I live at 1786 East 54th Street, Apartment 2, downstairs.
Yes, Miss Mantell.
Okay, I want to talk to you about a kidnapping.
A kidnapping of Abner Reed.
What? What's that?
I'm involved. It was my idea, really. I dreamed it up.
I was supposed to get a third, one third share.
But I'm not getting it, so I want to talk.
Yes, yes, Sandra.
I want you to make a deal for me, Mr. Chambers.
If I spill, I want to be able to cop a plea.
If I turn in that state's evidence,
I want a suspended sentence.
Why are you calling me?
Because I know you're mixed up in it.
Because I want you to go to the cops
and tell them I'll spill the whole deal.
Nobody's going to cross me and get away.
Hello? Hello? Hello?
The address she gave you is near, near enough.
You slam out of the office and you run all the way.
And then you're there, Apartment 2.
And you're in the presence of death.
A blonde with blood on her face.
There's another blonde standing by,
and this one's very much alive.
Who are you?
Peter, Peter Chambers.
Now, this girl was talking to me when that happened.
You, you didn't do it, did you?
No, no.
Who are you?
Betty, Betty Royal. My name's Betty Royal.
I'm her roommate.
I've only been her roommate for a week.
Did you call the cops?
Yes, yes, I phoned.
A well-stacked blonde.
A beautiful blonde, a live one.
The dead one must have been pretty, too.
You crawl around and you see the gun on the floor.
You see that the receiver's back on the hook, too.
But that figure's Betty Royal said she'd call the cops.
Let me tell you, let me tell you what happened.
Wait, wait, wait, wait. Let me ask the questions, Miss Royal.
Now, that gun on the floor, is that yours?
No, no, no, it's not mine. I found it.
Easy, easy, easy, does it, easy.
Just tell me, tell me what happened.
I was coming back from rehearsal.
Yeah?
I'm a ballet dancer.
And as I came into the hallway, I heard the shots.
I hurried forward, the door opened and a man came running out.
We bumped into each other and that's when the gun dropped to the floor.
He struck me and ran out.
What did he look like?
I have no idea.
I came in and I found her.
Like that.
She was dead.
And then?
I went out in the hall for the gun.
I remembered about not touching things.
Fingerprint, I kicked it with my foot.
I kicked it along until I worked it into the apartment.
Good girl.
Then I picked up the dangling receiver and I called the police.
She's in tears again.
And you go to her and you hold her.
And she's a cuddly little package.
And you think about how sweet this could be under different circumstances.
Cops.
Lots of cops. Tons of cops.
And they're in charge of Detective Lieutenant Louie Parker.
Never fails, huh?
When there's a corpse, there's you.
It's mixed up with the other thing, Lieutenant.
What other thing?
You straighten them out on current events.
From the phone calling your office to right now.
You wearing a gun, Pete?
Yeah, yeah.
Good, now listen to me. For once, will you listen to me?
Don't I always listen, Lieutenant?
Okay. There's some kind of crazy killer loose, right?
Right.
And he's mixed up with that Abner Reed snatch, right?
Right as rain, Lieutenant.
And you're still unfinished business on his list, right?
Right as a real downpour, Louie.
So go home, go home and lock the door. You stay there.
Now, what are you going to do in the meantime?
I'm going to work at my trade.
But I'll come up and see you, Pete, as soon as I get loose from all this.
And then we'll knock it around some more.
But don't open your door to anybody but me.
So you go home.
You're a good little boy and you listen to Papa.
You sit around like an old lady with Lombego.
But you sit.
You do some home cooking and some home drinking.
But you sit.
Finally, at two in the morning.
Who is it?
Louie Parker.
Oh.
Bit of a cup of that cheers, Lieutenant?
I can use a little cheer.
Here you are.
Thank you.
That hits the right spot.
Well, look, let's get down to cases, Lieutenant.
Ah, there's my boy. Always in there pitching.
Cases, Louie.
Well, Petey Boy, that gun on the floor was the murder gun.
Good.
And we've got a gorgeous set of fingerprints off it.
Only Prince honored us, as a matter of fact.
Good.
So, now we come to the catch.
There's got to be a catch.
The prints match nothing that we've got on file.
Don't match anything out of Washington.
Where's that leave us?
Way out in left field on a rainy day, but there's no ballgame.
Guess who's her boyfriend?
Guess who who's boyfriend?
The dead doll?
That's Sandra Mantell.
Oh, by the way, you know what her business was?
I don't know nothing.
Pooch dance, a burl, that's pretty good attitude.
I'm thrilled. Now, who's the boyfriend?
Nicky Darrow.
What?
Nicky Darrow.
Oh, that was a rhetorical what, Lieutenant?
It was a what of amazement, a what of astonishment, a what of shock.
Okay, all right, stop picking on me.
Nicky Darrow, huh?
Well, don't you call that a leave?
We had him in, we questioned him, we did the fingerprint bit.
Total reaction negative. We had him released.
What time is it?
It's 2.30 in the morning.
Let's get out of here.
Out. Where are you going?
Work. You?
I'm going to sleep.
Pete?
Yes, Lieutenant?
Be careful.
Nicky Darrow, a hoodlum with big ideas.
Ex-gunman, ex-con, ex-crook.
Gone real respectable now.
Owner of a fancy saloon.
Caterer to cafe society.
Big wheel with the theatrical folk.
But way down deep under, deadly as a two-headed rattlesnake bent on mischief.
You get to next place, which is hopping,
and you jostle through the happy people to Nicky.
Well, the private eyeball. Long time no see, sir.
Can I talk to you, Nicky?
Sure, talk it with you. Nicky's liable to get educated.
He's big, he's arrogant, he's power-tired.
He leads you through to the back and he sits you down.
There you are, palzo. Real nice and comfortable.
Have a drink, huh, in the house. Okay?
Thanks, Nicky.
Waiter, couple of drinks here. Scotch for the eyeball.
That's his drink, Scotch.
Was it tickling, your pal?
That kind of tickling, you can die laughing.
What are you talking about?
Bullets.
You're on my back, Nicky.
Me? I don't even know what you're beginning to think you want to talk about.
Somebody's blowing spitballs at me, Nicky.
Any idea who?
No, sir, I got no idea who, no how.
Good enough. Now we shift the gear.
Girlfriend of yours died today of unnatural causes.
Yeah, so I hear.
Any ideas on that, like who done it?
No, but I'm going to find out, pal. This is one time I'm working on your side.
Okay, now we shift the high.
You're beginning to stick your dirty mitts into kidnapping, too?
Talk nice to Nicky.
I talk the way I want to talk. To whom I want to talk.
You're a sweet-hearted guy with a lot of guts.
I like a guy with a lot of guts.
The answer is no.
No to what?
Have a little sense, pal. The Snatch Racket is out for any guy with brains.
It's the easiest way to turn a buck.
That's all.
Bye now, Nicky. Live it up. Have fun, big shot.
Hey, there's drinks coming.
We'll skip it this trip.
So you're back where you started, fresh out of Leeds.
And it goes on like that for the next few days.
Long days, lumpy ones, slow moving.
And you're wearing your hardware and you're turning to look over your shoulder wherever you are.
You've crawled on Betty Royal a few times and you like that.
You like that very much.
And now you're calling on her again for no reason at all except that you like that very much.
But you find her breathless with excitement.
I found something, Mr. Chambers. I think it could be important.
Pete. Pete. Not Mr. Chambers. Pete, remember?
Yes, Peter. A little black book. It belongs to...
Well, it belonged to Sandra.
She must have put it into my bag by mistake and that bag's been in my locker at rehearsal hall.
Let's see it.
A little black book with a lot of names and not one that means anything to you.
But they may mean a lot to Parker.
So you latch on to the lovely Betty Royal who's as lovely and as regal as her name.
And off you go, a chattering twosome, downtown to police headquarters,
downtown to Detective Lieutenant Parker.
And you barge in without knocking because you think you've got right.
Only you're not.
Only to find that he's got company so you start backing out again.
Come in. Come in, Pete. Miss Royal.
Thank you kindly, Governor.
Thank you.
Companies, a tall young man with a bruiser's shoulders and an angel's face.
Lieutenant Parker, I found a little black book. I found it in my locker.
It doesn't belong to me. Mistaken bags. It's Sandra's. Sandra Matfield's.
This is the little black book.
Yes. Fattling is God's given right to a beautiful girl.
Well, thank you, Peter. By the way, let me introduce Abner Reed.
I don't think you two have ever met. Abner Reed, Peter Chambers, Miss Betty Royal.
Oh, how do you do?
How do you do?
I don't know you. Well, Lieutenant, as we were saying...
Wait a minute. Wait a minute. What did you say your name was?
I just told you.
I'm asking him.
Come on, fella. Keep talking.
What did you say your name was?
My name?
As the lieutenant told you, Abner Reed. Abner Reed, of course.
You jump him right away. You don't wait.
He's big and you want the first punch.
And you get the first punch in, but he takes a standing up and lets do a few of his own.
All right, stop it. Break it up. What the devil's going on here?
You slip by a couple of his lefts and then he's wide open
and you come up with one off the floor and he catches it clean on the button.
And now he's dead.
And out. And he'll stay out until someone brings him two.
You're crazy, man. That's assault and battery.
You're going to do time, fella.
Boy, you really flipped your wig this time.
Here, let me help you.
Stay away from him.
Now, look, Peter.
You and I, Lieutenant, we've thrown a lot of questions around.
There's a couple of answers coming up right now.
Like what?
Like why I was shot at at the graveyard and shot up in my apartment.
Like why Sandra Mantell was killed.
Like why she called the police.
Like why Sandra Mantell was killed. Like why she called me in the first place.
Like why that gun has fingerprints.
Easy, easy. One at a time.
Let's take the last one first.
Fingerprints on a gun.
A guy dropping it when he collides with a dame.
Panicking, running out, leaving it there.
Does that sound professional?
Not especially.
Well, a rule's out of pro. What is a rule in?
An amateur.
So?
So let's do it right side up now.
Now, here's a guy, Abner Reed. He married a large hunk of dough.
But he can't reach too much of it because she's frugal.
So?
The suggestion of a friend of his, Miss Sandra Mantell,
and you'll find, I'm sure, with a good deal of digging,
that those two had a close sub-browser association.
Well, never mind what I'll find out. Let's get this over with first.
On her suggestion, they figured out a beauty.
The guy kidnapped himself.
Remember Mrs. Reed talked in the alleged ransom discussions to nobody but him on the phone?
Yes, yes.
He knew the old dame. She'd pay and play ball, which she did.
But why? Why were you attacked there in the cemetery?
Because Reed didn't want any remnants hanging around.
But Pete, how did you tab him so quick?
He never bothered to disguise his voice in the graveyard.
He figured to leave me there for dead, and this was the first time I've heard it since.
So he punched his bullets at you and your apartment, and that time he almost made it.
And then, then when he wouldn't abide with Sandra, she decided...
Everybody's a detective.
Although you're 100% right, Betty Lass.
She called me, knew where to call me, because she was in it from the very beginning.
He caught her in the act and finished her off.
And if you will kindly use the fingers of that comatose gentleman for the purpose of making fingerprint impressions,
I don't have a doubt in the world what you'll find.
And so, one hour later, Abner Reed is booked for murder and extortion.
And you're strolling in the joyful sunshine with Betty Royal clinging to your arm tightly and proudly.
And what prettier termination can there be to so unfortunate a circumstance as murder?
And there you've had Crime and Peter Chambers.
Dane Clark was starred as Peter Chambers.
Crime and Peter Chambers transcribed was created, produced, and written by Henry Kane.
Others in the cast were Bill Zuckert, heard as Lieutenant Parker,
with Evelyn Barden, Patricia Wheel, and Roger DeCoeve.
It was directed by Fred Way.
This is Fred Collins inviting you to tune in next week, same time, same station,
for Dane Clark in Crime and Peter Chambers.
Visit with Fibber McGee and Molly tonight on the NBC Radio Network.