Broadway's My Beat, from Times Square to Columbus Circle. The gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway's My Beat, with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Broadway, it's a neon-lighted revival meeting that screams for the joy and the salvation. It's a lonely path that sighs down into darkness. It's a fury of voices and stamping feet, or a cry that wanders and waits to be heard. It's Happy Alley with Happy Talk, where a hot trumpet plays background music for a panhandler. However you want it, that's how it is. It's Broadway My Beat. The November twilight filtered into my office at police headquarters, and I sat there looking at it, pushing away the time for the filling out of my daily report. There were other diversions. Through the open window I watched a girl walk down the street. She wore a green silk dress that knew summer was over but didn't care. Then I heard two things, a sigh that came from me, and a door opening that came from the door. I have no wish to trespass upon a reverie of delight, Daniel. There was only one man who could talk to me like that. A miniature of a man called Lee Kai. Lee Kai, professor of oriental art at the university. He hadn't changed. The same black military looking jacket that buttoned high on the throat. The same patent leather shoes with spat slightly pink. And the face still as if it had been engraved on yellow shantung. Daniel, may I presume upon you? Anything you want, Lee, any time. Then permit me to read you this telegram. Is that all? You could have presumed bigger. I shall, when you have read the telegram. It is addressed to me and it says in three words, terror follows me. It is signed Mei Ling. Only three words. Is not ten words the usual? Yeah, he's a frugal one, this Mei Ling, huh? Mei Ling is a delicate interweaving of all that is lovely and exquisite in a girl. I do not think she meant to be frugal. I do not think I know what you're talking about. Of course, therefore I will explain. You see, Mei Ling, this lovely girl of whom I have told you so much already, she brings me a statuette of the goddess Quan Yin, the Chinese goddess of mercy. And among friends there is no need for circumlocution. Of course. For what? Circumlocution, of course. The Quan Yin was smuggled out of my bleeding china, Daniel. It is worth approximately a hundred thousand dollars. Mei Ling was bringing it to me. And now, in three words, terror follows her. You understand what I need of you? Not yet. I want you to meet Mei Ling's train at 125th Street at eight tonight. She is in private car, 23. You will give her the protection from the terror that follows her, Daniel. We have other departments for that, Li. I could... But you are the friend department. No, Daniel. In the night time, the 125th Street station hangs over the edge of a glittering world. Arrival and departure have a special meaning in the dark. There are shadows between everything and the talk is always whispers. I walked out on the concrete platform toward the light on the bulk of the train, and I saw the man in a conductor's cap holding a lantern and looking down at his watch. I asked him a question. 23, next one down through this empty coat. Thanks. Hey, wait a minute. Can't get in 23, private coat. It's all right. I just want... No, can't let you on. No, sorry, but no. Borders. Want to see something? Huh? Look at this for a second. Hold it up to the light. Police badge, huh? Yep. Yep. Yep. Train pulls out in seven minutes, mister. Oh, bury me not on a lone prairie. Oh, excuse me, mister, I didn't know where... Hey, you big enough to come from Texas. Are you from Texas? No, no, if you'll let me through here... Well, old city fella, huh? You know how I can tell? City fella's always in a hurry. That's how I can tell. Yeah, no, one side friend. In Texas, it's different. People are friendly. Just folks down in Texas. I'll show you what I mean. Here, you have a drink. Maybe you didn't understand. I said one side friend. Hey, you meaner than a short with a cut snout. No drink, huh? Well, Texan don't prejudice a man because he ain't no drinker. Let me tell you about Texas. Maybe I gotta prove it to you. Out of the way. Well, you got the idea. Sure, sure, I got the idea. See if you can get this one through your head. What are you... End of the line all out, New York, New York, Grand Central State... Hey, hey, you, wake up. Now, don't ask me where you are. I've been shouting on my lungs where you are. Come on, come on, get up, get up. There you are. Hey, you're the policeman. Yeah, the finest of the finest. Stumbled, huh? Later. First I was slugged. Feature that. You feature it. I haven't made car 23 yet. Hey, hey, come back here. I've got a writer in court. Come back here. But I finally did. I finally made it. Car 23. Inside the place was a shambles, upholstery ripped, baggage opened and tossed across the seats... as if someone had been in a desperate hurry to find something. I noticed her then. She was sitting there, very lovely, very delicate. The frown pressed at the corners of her lips. I guessed her name was Mei Ling. But I knew she was dead. The bullet hole between the arm and eyes made this common knowledge to anyone who took the time to look. To a policeman, a death scene is a place of business. There was nothing there that looked like a priceless statuary called Kwan Yin. I made some notes, called the station master, then found a phone booth... to make the violent death of Mei Ling by person to person's unknown a matter of routine. Sergeant Tartaglia speaking. Danny Clover. Mei Ling's dead. Send the boys down to Grand Central. Photographers, fingerprints, technical, the whole crew. The coroner too. I'll wait for them. Okay. Hey, say, Danny, a guy called. Said he wanted to talk to you. Said it was urgent. Who said all that? John Smith. Well, that's what he said. His name was John Smith. I wrote it down so I wouldn't forget. He said something about a... Wait a minute. Here, I'll spell it to you. K-U-A-N-Y-I... Kwan Yin? Yeah, yeah, Danny. That's it. What's John Smith's address? 1212 Mott Street. Got it? Yeah. Goodbye, Tartaglia. Anyone who wanted to see me about a Kwan Yin was a man I wanted to see. I waited around Grand Central until the crew from headquarters arrived, then I took off my squad car and hit Mott Street in ten minutes. The red brick pagoda that bore the address of one John Smith held all the charm and grace of a 20th century housing project. The only thing oriental about it was a cast iron dragon that snarled at me from the door knocker. I picked up its head and banged it against the door. Ah. You would be Danny Clover, and I would be John Smith. The ecstasy is mutual. Please enter. The thing that stood in front of me I didn't believe was a mound of flesh wrapped in a scented mandarin's robe. Purchased on its shoulder was a small white monkey with enormous eyes that loathed me with an enormous love. John Smith looked like a fat croc of Ming pottery, but he talked as if he'd spent a lot of time telling the good earth around Harvard. You admire my monkey, Danny Clover. Rest assured, he admires you. I hate him. Get him out of here. You are frank, Danny Clover. We shall get along splendidly. Now run along to bed, Max. It's way beyond, you know. I'll talk to you when later, Max. Now go, go. A vaulting feast, isn't it? I say that deliberately. It depends on your point of view. Me. I find all the answers to all the mysteries of eternity in Max's eyes. Hmm. You gaze at my house. You like it? Yeah. Looks like you've collected all the money you need. Cozy, though. Spurious loot, Danny Clover. It's all fake. These statuettes, for instance, tourist stuff. In all this rubbish, nothing so delicate or so desirable as the Kuan Yin image, an evanescent image, a wool of the wisp image. You don't say. Tell me more. I shall. A most intimate source in Hong Kong has revealed to me that the fabulous, the priceless, the most beautiful, the fabulous, the priceless Kuan Yin has vanished. Do you have a theory as to where she might be? Should I have a theory? I thought perhaps the eminent oriental art expert known to both of us as Likai may have helped you formulate one. Your most intimate source operates in New York, too. I have other intimates. Besides Max, try one from Texas. Texas? What is that? A person, place or object? You know, I wouldn't know. Exactly. And now, Danny Clover, a word of caution. The Kuan Yin is a legend among my people, a fairy tale. Fairy tales are sometimes bloody. Her most discerning observation. On a sensitive and intelligent mind, they can leave a most fatal scar. Sometimes not only on the mind. It's sweet, the way you try to scare me. The Kuan Yin is a goddess of mercy and compassion. If you know where she is, may she watch over you. If you don't, we have nothing further to discuss. And now, I must tuck Max in. Au revoir, Danny Clover. I shook his hand, watched him wince, then bowed out of his fat presence. John Smith was a man who would keep. Now there was one place I just had to go. To the university, to break the news to Lee Kai. It was at this time in my life that I exploded the myth that the thirst for knowledge never ceases. The door to the Arts and Science building was locked. It took me a half hour to find the night watchman, go through the policeman's badge routine, and get ushered to the self-service elevator. Wait a minute. Hey, wait, wait a minute. Thank you. Thank you very much. I feel silly saying this, but... floor, please. The third. Good, me too. I've never seen you about the building. What are you in? Arts or Sciences? I never knew which. I'm Danny Clover, a policeman. Oh. And you're in... Seismology. I'm Professor Higgins. Professor? Oh, here we are. Third floor. Oh, yeah. You, um, were saying? I was saying Professor of Seismology with a question mark after it. What is seismology, exactly? Exactly. It's that branch of geophysics which has to do with earthquakes and their attendant phenomena. Mm-hmm. Here's my lab. Good night. Before you go, and in non-scientific terms, could you tell me where Professor Lee Kai's office is? Lee Kai? Yeah. How nice. In the Argo, any friend of his is a friend of mine. Now we'll shake hands. I'm glad to know you. I'll show you his office. You've known Lee Kai for a long time. Why, he slapped my... He was in attendance when I was born. There were no doctors nearby then. In China, Mr. Clover. In the interior. Oh, and from that moment on, you became interested in earthquakes and their attendant phenomena. Pretty nearly. Understand, Mr. Clover, I enjoy seismology. A girl can always make her way in the world with a good, sound knowledge of seismology, I always say. You always say the same thing. It does make for dull conversation, doesn't it? Well... Here. Here's Lee Kai's office. Professor Kai. Professor Kai... Professor Kai! There was only one man who could lie on the floor like that. A miniature of a man called Lee Kai. He had only changed a little bit. The patent leathers were the same, and the spats, the crinkled face. But the small change made a big difference. The sharp object sticking in the middle of his black military looky jacket made him a venerable ancestor to whatever good he'd done in this world. I knelt down beside him. There was a letter opener plunged deep into his back. And on its handle it said, Act me life assurance company. Put your life in our hands. You are listening to Broadway's My Beat, starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. 50,000 or more always in the jackpot on Sing It Again. Music by Gene Autry and Vaughn Monroe. Mystery and thrills with gangbusters Phillip Marlowe, Johnny Dollar, and Danny Clover, the Broadway cop. That's the one-way ticket to top fun on most of these CBS stations every Saturday night. This fall, when you hear them all on CBS, Saturday night promises top music, top adventure, and a chance at radio's top prize. There's this about Broadway. It savors the exotic while it's taking bites out of a hot dog. The deaths of Mei Ling and Lee Kai were duly reported from the next morning's newsstands, were scanned by the crowd while reaching for their respective mustard jars. Then Broadway went about its business. You can't blame Broadway. It's got too many other things to consider, like tea formations and mass substitutions, the weather, making a buck. But a policeman with a murder in his hands has to make a world outside all that. Mine revolved about a specific Chinese statuette called Kuan Yin, and incidentally worth $100,000. It also included paying final respects. I took a ride down to a twisted alley off of Mott Street. The festivities for Lee Kai's funeral had already begun. Venerable Chinese ladies and gentlemen stood on the curb, and the great ceremony lighted firecrackers and tossed them serenely into the air. As the body of Lee Kai approached, others tossed money into his open coffin to ensure his price of admission into heaven. Walking directly behind was a lady by the name of Higgins, Professor Kate Higgins. She was dressed in a mandarin robe, and her tears were the tears some enchanted princess might weep. There were only two, one under each eye, and each one a jewel. And then across the street through the procession, a face that I had seen once before in a train station brought me back. Pardon me. I'm sorry. Pardon. Tell me about Texas, kid. I got more time now. Who are you? Why leave a great place like Texas just to strongarm a city fella? Take off, friend. They warned me about talking to strangers. In here, friend, in this alleyway where we can be far from the city's rattle. In here where we can be parts. In here! Take your hands off of me. Talk to me, part. Who told you to slug me on that train? I can do it now without nobody whispering in my ear. Do it! Yeah. It's going to be a well-filled saddle tonight in the old Houskow. Come in. I was looking for Professor Higgins. This is her laboratory, isn't it? Yes. The professor isn't in. I'm John Scarn, her assistant. Danny Clover, police. Oh. Social or business? I only ask because Kate has such various callers. Last week it was a gentleman peddling hot Persian prayer rugs. I got quite a seism out of him. Seism? You're not hep, are you? Seism. Earthquake. A big bang. Tell me, what do you do around here when you're not having seism? Well, I'll explain it to you. See, these things here are seismographs. They're connected to another machine embedded in concrete below this building. If there's an earth tremor, it's picked up by the machine downstairs and recorded on these. I see. And this needle here writing on this rotating drum records the time of the shock. Precisely. Interesting. Mind if I take a closer look? Well, take it easy, Mr. Clover. We don't need a tembler to disturb the needle, you know. It's very delicately balanced. It'll even record footsteps that come too close to it. What do you do with these recordings after you've got them? File them. Each recording is for a 24-hour period. Unfile yesterday's reports and send them to my office. Well, but... And do you get reports from other stations that do this work? Yes, every day, but... Send yesterday's, all of them, down to police headquarters. Now, see here... Mr. Skarn, have you had your seism today? I'll send everything down just as soon as I can get them together. Good. And quietly. No one's to know. Another thing, Mr. Skarn. Who has access to this lamp? Why, just Kate and me. And, yes, the night watchman. Yes, we three. We have the only keys, I believe. Thanks. And Kate, Professor Higgins, where would I find her? Perhaps at her apartment. 125 Morningside Drive, I believe. Thanks again, Mr. Skarn. Just a moment. I have to put something on. I'll wait. Plover, why is it that everything happens to you while you're on duty? Maybe it's because you're on duty. Oh, it's you. How nice. You caught me just as I stepped out of the shower. So you'll have to take me as I am, robe and all. Come in. I could wait outside until you... A shy policeman. How charming. You can trust me. Go on in. Thank you, Professor. Over there by the fire is nice. I always dry myself by the fire, but you interrupted that. Easy, Plover. I'm here. Tell me. I didn't say anything. Shall I get us something? A drink? Do you object to the phonograph? Some men do, you know. I saw you at Lee Kai's funeral. I saw you, too. You're different now. You're not. That's right. I'm still thirsting for knowledge. So talk to me about the things Chinese, Professor. The Kuan Yin, for instance? For instance? A miraculous goddess believed by the Chinese to have only to kiss a wound to make it vanish. A hundred thousand dollars a kiss. It's expensive healing. There are some who would pay more. Two murders, maybe? More, if they have to. Yeah. You told me Lee Kai slapped you into the first breath you ever took. What else did he do for you? Everything. He was my father, my brother, my companion, my teacher. And Mei Ling? I didn't know. Everyone in China, policemen. Nice policemen. And the man named John Smith? John Doe, yes. John Smith, no. Give up? All right. Invite me to an earthquake sometime, will you? I'll take time out for it. You'll love it. There's nothing quite so exciting as when the earth moves. Danny? Yeah? The Quan Yin. You could give her to me. I'm only a professor on a professor's salary, but... I could think of some way to pay you for it. Oh. What makes you think I've got the Quan Yin? Because Lee told me he'd gone to you. Because you found Mei Ling. Because it would have been simple for you to steal it from a dead girl. Yeah, it would have been. But you know, I didn't think of it. Also, she didn't have it. Now it's your turn again. Lee Kai would want me to have it. No one else. I'll make a note of it, professor. Now, would you unlock the door, please? I promised Mother I'd be home early. Of course. There's frustration everywhere, isn't there, policemen? Nothing but frustration. I think I remembered to tip my hat. I know I remembered to get back to police headquarters. I hustled Sergeant Tartaglia off his fat comic book and sat down on my desk to go over the sheaf of seismographs I had scarned sent down. Not only were they dull reading, but for a long time they didn't make sense. I kept trying. You can talk, Tartaglia. Item one, Danny. I've questioned the Texas cowboy in his cell. The breath won't talk, won't open his mouth. Hey, in a Texan, this must be some kind of terrible disease. Okay, physician. Item two. Item two is alibis. Good and indifferent. At the time of Lee Kai's murder, John Smith was giving a dinner party. Assistant Scarn was calling a square dance. Hey, you know, Danny, they're fun. You ever been to one? Ask me sometime, Tartaglia. Yeah. Item two continued. Professor Higgins was to a movie. The night watchman checked into the station on the other side of the campus. Item three, San Francisco Customs reports this Mei Ling never had no Kwan Yin. Tell me that again. The Kwan Yin Mei Ling was supposed to have. She never had it. Danny, this means two people was killed for something they didn't have. Huh? You said something to Tartaglia? When San Francisco Customs reported they had no records on the Kwan Yin, something clicked into place. If the Kwan Yin existed at all, I figured there was only one place where it could exist. So I went there, back to the university in the office of Lee Kai, lecturer and collector of Chinese art, now deceased. Oh, it's you, Mr. Clover. We thought perhaps we would meet you here. The place was a mess. Standing in the midst of the debris was the monkey-owning poet John Smith. And in a corner with a soft light playing with the amber of her hair was Kate Higgins. Danny Clover, it's always a delight to be where you are. The policeman is a meddling, stupid fool, Kate. Yeah, you warned me, didn't you? First to the hired thug, then during a lecture on spurious loot. Mr. Clover, I'm afraid I must dispense with you. Let him talk. I like to watch his mouth. Thanks. So I'll talk. Lee Kai was a wise little man. He had the Kwan Yin all the time. All he wanted was to find out who was trying to get it away from him. He came to me because he knew his enemies would follow him to me. And it backfired, shall we say, in his face. His and Mei Ling, the girl with whom he planned the whole puppet show. You have talked enough, Mr. Clover. Quite enough. I'd been watching Smith, but where that knife came from, I'll never know. He held it low, slanting upwards for ripping, and then he lunged at me. I sidestepped and reached back, grabbed one of Lee Kai's art figures and threw it at his head. He ducked and the statue shattered against the wall. Kwan Yin. The Kwan Yin. And there it was, an ebony image shining with some inner light. It held us in a kind of suspended trance. Lee Kai had been clever. He'd encrusted the Kwan Yin in a cheap plaster cast and set it alongside the rest of his art. One of the oldest tricks in the world. I came out of the trance faster than John Smith did. He lay there with the rest of the crockery, just as pale, just as broken, just as unconscious. He can no longer harm you, Danny. He was an evil man. Yeah, and tricky. Hiring that hatchet man McGrath to kill Mae Leng and slug me on the train. Kate. Yes, Danny? Maybe I shouldn't ask you this, Kate. But how come you were with Smith? I knew his greed would finally lead him to Kwan Yin, as your curiosity led you to her. And to me. To me, Danny. Kate, do you always repay kindness with murder? What are you talking about? You killed Lee Kai. Danny, you're insane. Why do you talk like that? Because the seismograph in your lab registered a disturbance at nine o'clock last night, the time of Lee Kai's murder. How do you know it wasn't the recording of a minor shock someplace in the world? Because no other laboratory picked it up. That's when you stabbed him, Kate, at nine o'clock. You said you were at the movies. Nobody could prove that. Danny. But you weren't, Kate. You weren't at the movies. You were in your lab. You stabbed Lee Kai and dragged his body down the hall to his office. He was a small man. You could have done that. Yes. It's no use. You would deprive me of the Kwan Yin anyhow. Two killings for the goddess of mercy. Doesn't add up. I would kill anyone who would deprive me of the Kwan Yin. Yes, you too, if I could now. Danny. Uh-huh? Let me hold the Kwan Yin, Danny. Kwan Yin? Yeah. Here. Kwan Yin. Fabulous. Kwan Yin. I watched her hand slide down the side of her cheek and her body go taut. Her eyes fixed and the Kwan Yin narrowed. I caught her before she fell to the floor. When the boys from headquarters came, it took four of them to heave John Smith onto a stretcher. They started for Kate Higgins. I told them to mark her fragile. Even a professor of earthquakes can break. In the November sun, Broadway shimmers like some frozen city rising out of a frozen lake. It's clear, crystal clear, and its air is fresh and clean. You close your eyes because you know it's a lie. The easy laughter that snarls when your back is turned. The spectaculars that advertise the grave. The welcoming hand that turns to ice in yours. It's Broadway, the godliest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway, my beat. Broadway is my beat stars Larry Thor as detective Danny Clover and is written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin. The musical score was composed and conducted by Wilbur Hatch and the program was produced and directed by Elliot Lewis. The cast tonight included Mary Jane Croft, Charles Calvert, William Johnstone, Barton Yarborough, William Conrad, Junius Matthews, and Jerry Houser. Stay tuned for Sing It Again, which follows immediately over most of these same CBS stations. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
