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. The summer evening flows gently over Broadway, and the carousel sounds of the street's carnival begin. The brazen trumpet screams, calling the believers to the basement sanctuaries at a dime of prayer. The barkers of the night shout their spiels into passing ears, and the rustle of perfumed silk rides the June wind. You're shoved and pushed and mauled, and there's no bitterness because the taste of night melts in your mouth. You ride the rides, walk the midway, toss the hoop to win the cubie, and you try not to notice the plucking at your sleeve. But finally you turn, your palm is crossed with violence. You hold onto it until the man in the tweed jacket and the gray flannel slacks takes it away from you, gives death back to the other man, its owner, sprawled across the silk sheets of his bed, the blood from his bullet wound draining the sleep out of him. Because blood like that can stain the reputation of an exclusive apartment hotel, the man in tweed makes a suggestion. I offer it in all modesty, Mr. Clover, a mere suggestion. This can be, can be... What, Mr. Tracy, what can it be? Handled discreetly, of course. You can do that. The power, the know-how. Keep it out of the papers. Treat the frightful mess with velvet gloves. Anything else? Aye, nothing more I can think of at the moment. Not that I can bring to mind at the snap of your fingers. That's good. Now you can do something for me. Understand me, Mr. Clover. Managing this place is all consuming. I spent years at school, here and abroad, learning the quirks, the ins and outs of the profession, the values... All that education, maybe you can spell out for me the murdered man's name. Did I forget to introduce you? Pity. The fellow over there on our bed was once Frank Dunn, a bartender, of all things. A rather crude chap, I thought. But genteel enough to pay the tab in this slick joint of yours. They do bartenders like Dunn well at the trade winds, I hear. The club on West 52nd? I wouldn't know where the place was. Do you mind? Tell me more about Dunn. Well, he appealed to the female of the species, shall we say. They called on him constantly, at all hours. Tonight? Well, that's difficult to say. But do you not detect the faint odour of a lingering perfume? The aura a woman leaves? Pardon my irritus of that. Never mind, I'll get him. Hello? Hello? Frank? Would you put Frank on the line, please? Frank just stepped out. Could I give him a message? Who are you? Why do you answer for Frank? I know he's there. Does he not wish to speak with me? Who is this? Who shall I say is calling? No. No, there's a man. It is not to be Frank would have it with me. Hello? Hello? Yes, please? This is the police, operator. Trace that call. And the call was traced. Drugstore on 43rd and Broadway. A phone booth there. The third one from the left, as you pass the Chiron reducing display. Anyway who knows who's been using the phone, the clerk in the white coat asked me. You don't have to have friends in Washington to use the phone, mister. You need a dime, that's all. Anyway, what was she, a spy or something? So if that's all, he had work to do. He left. So did I. It was a short walk up to 52nd Street and the nightclub that's known as the Tray Twins. Met a beach boy in a custom made loin cloth said aloha and pointed inside. And inside a beach girl said aloha and offered her nose to be rubbed, which came with a cover charge the price of admission to tropical paradise. And it was, even to the tropical birds playing tropical games and singing their sad songs in huge cages of gilded bamboo. And sitting in a fan shaped wicker chair in the corner was Trader Milt Barker wearing yellowed linen, his eyes bleary with the grandeur of it all. Finally saw me. Hey, Danny, grab yourself a wicker and take a load off. Yeah, for the place you have here, Milt. Wait till you see the floor show, Danny. Gotta dame here does a routine on a bed of hot coals. Milt, uh. You try the authentic cuisine yet? You like fish? I got cold huma huma nuka nuka hapa wah. That would set you crazy. You sit still. I'll slice you some from the middle. Sit down, Milt. All right. So I'm sitting. I'm sitting, so. I bought a bartender here, Frank Dunn. Frankly, he ain't showed up yet tonight. He commit something? He's been murdered. Kismet. Pure kismet. Fate, Danny. The way the department figures, it took a murderer to do it. Yeah, I guess. How'd he go out? Shopped. Like I say, kismet. What are you talking about? A guy like Frank, it figures, it just don't make me surprised. Come on, Milt, talk to me. What's on your mind? Well, he served smiles with the tall, cool ones. When Frank wiped the bar in front of a female patroness, it had a meeting all its own. Personality. Keep talking. Well, Danny, a guy like him. Well, a dame would be embarrassed leaving less than a fin or a phone number for a tip. Did he cause any trouble here? Frank? No. An operator with a head on him. Wait until the male escort was occupied. Elsewhere then, well, Frank would drop a small onion in the cocktail glass in such a way that patronesses would leave teeth marks on the bar. Like for instance. Well, for instance who? Louise Hathaway is current, Danny. You know, the dame who is Mrs. to Edward Hathaway, the guy who manufactures hardware. You know Hathaway's hardware, nails, oh. Yeah. Tell me more about Mrs. Hathaway. She's current. That's all I know, honest. Come on, Danny. Eat some of my cuisine. I'll make you a regular lava lava. And so as the surprise pink spotlight dimmed slowly over Trader Milt's paradise, I heaved a sigh for the regular lava lava that would never touch my lips and bid a fond farewell to the land of the Humahuma Kukanuka-Apawah. At the Park Avenue apartment of Mr. and Mrs. Edward Hathaway, a maid in gray silk and high spiked heels told me they were out for the evening. She tightened a black shoulder strap to inform me that the Hathaways never informed a person in what glamorous places they were boozing it up, that this usually took till dawn. I said I'd come back in the morning. She said sometimes a person didn't know what side his evening was buttered on and kicked the door shut with her heel. I guess I didn't wait the polite and proper interval after dawn because the girl who opened the door to me this time was still yawning. Another thing, the long night had left no scar on her kind of beauty. Can it wait? Whatever you want, can it wait? You're Louise Hathaway? Uh-huh. Sleepy Louise. Tired Louise. If you weren't a stranger, you could rock me back to sleep. I need it so. I'm from the police, Danny Clover. Oh, you're the one Celeste told me about. Celeste the maid. What do you think of her? She thought much of you. Come on in. Tell me about it. Celeste's in bed. I let her stay because we dragged her out of it when we came in. Couldn't find the keys. You know how it is. But I'll drag her out again to whip up some eggs for us if you like. No thanks. Big night last night, huh? Ah, the biggest. You build a lovely city here, officer. Lovely and fair. And at night it glistens. Frank Dunn. Was he a part of the night? You just played the only sad note there is, officer. Frank wasn't in it. Not anywhere. Why do you play a sad note like that to me? Because he's dead. Murdered. I don't think I'd ever let you rock me to sleep. You're cruel. And Frank, what about him? I wouldn't know about him, wise man. Things had got bad and I tried to... Frank winked, grinned, splashed whiskey on my dress. That's all, huh? Just a clumsy bartender. So much more you'll never know. Once I was at the trade winds having dinner with hubby mine and there was a phone call for me and I took it and it was Frank calling me from the bar. And hubby mine didn't know why I suddenly turned happy. He had sense enough not to ask. Your husband knows how you felt about Frank? I don't know. I don't care. I always made him tip Frank a lot of money, take him with us after he was through work. Well, it's going to be cheaper for hubby mine with Frank gone. And for me? For me? Such a high price, I don't mind telling you. Will you wake your husband, Mrs. Hathaway? I want to talk to him. He's awake. You can talk to him. He's at the factory, Hathaway's Hardware Incorporated. Always the first man there. Sleeps an hour after I've kept him up the night and off to the factory, off to make a bed of nails for me. Just stay here in case we want you, Mrs. Hathaway. So you can talk more to me about Frank? It'll be a pleasure. Deep and fair. A pleasure. Anytime. That'll be all, Mr. Garvey. All right, sir, who are you? I gave my name at the gate, Danny Clover. From the police, huh? That's right. What's on your mind? I just came from your house, Mr. Hathaway. My house? What's the big idea? What did you want there? I had a chat with your wife. My wife? You don't go to my house, policeman, no more. You understand that? You don't bother Louise. You want something? You got a ticket to sell? You got something that gives you worry? You come to me. Louise, don't get bothered by police. She gets bothered, Hathaway, anytime the department feels the need. Yeah, you think so, huh? You get bothered too, mister. Go ahead, call your lawyer. Say murder to him, because that's what you and your wife are involved in. Murder? Call your lawyer, Hathaway. Look, now... The death of Frank Dunn, bartender, at the hands of person or persons unknown. Your hands, your wife's hands, both... I thought you were kidding. I'm not kidding. Louise is a kid. I got a young wife, Clover. Wild sometimes. Country kid come to the city wild. And not excusing her, understand? I like to watch it. She knew Frank Dunn. So she knew Frank Dunn. So I know Frank Dunn. A thousand people know Frank Dunn. She didn't kill him. Why should she kill him? What could he do for her? Give her a double martini? Couple of those go a long way. Look, Frank Dunn was a joke passed over the bar to Louise. Louise is married. So that settles that. All right. Who killed Frank Dunn? I'll tell you this. If he would have put a finger on Louise, I'd have killed him. One finger on Louise. I told her that time and time again. She and Lily think it's... Who? Lily. They think it's smart. They got to have cocktails at five. They go in by themselves. Who's Lily? Lily. Lily Prokosh, a dopey dame who writes poetry, wears glasses that goes like this. Lily Prokosh. Prokosh? Foreign? Yeah. Talks, accent talk. Where do I find her? Lily. Sometimes I pick up Louise at Lily's place in the village hotel. Yeah. I know where it is. Good. Maybe you're on to something, Clover. Huh? I don't know. Come. Come. Please. Fell asleep here on the couch. I dreamed. Lily? It was painful. I opened my eyes and the knife was in me, here. I say open your eyes, Lily. It is still a dream. I can't feel my body. I can't move. Lie here. Look at the knife. Operator, get me the house doctor, quick. Help me. Help me. Wait a minute, operator. Remember mind, operator. You're listening to Broadway's My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin, with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. This combination is your open sesame to Sunday night musical delight. CBS Guy Lombardo time featuring the sweetest music this side of heaven and the Mario Lanza show. Enjoy Guy Lombardo's music. Enjoy vocals old and new by Mario Lanza. Mario singing sensation called both the new Caruso and the hottest singer in a decade may be heard Sunday nights on most of these same CBS stations. The nice thing about Broadway, the good thing, the reason why you run the rest of the way until you get there is that Broadway never lets you down. It's all things to everybody. For the gourmet, the foot long wiener with a seated role. For the musically inclined, the rosette of loudspeakers over the slightly used record shop. For the art lover, the windy corner. And for those who just like to walk and be amazed, there are people who will be amazed right back at you. Walk it or wait it out. The day's 24 hours long, kid. Take that dream along. It'll happen to you one way or another. But where I was going, there was no dream. Only the reality of a girl lying there frail against the decor of plump upholstery. The expensive drapes, the built in silences, the lifeless girl, the stabbed to death girl. And talk to a man about it. The practice talk over the telephone because a policeman speaks of death by formula. Apartment 612, huh? Yeah, I got it, Danny. The door to the suite was open when I got here. The girl's name is Lily Prokosh. Okay. One who called Frank Dunn when I was in Frank's apartment. I'm pretty sure that, Gino. Now, corner, lab boys, the works I'll talk to you later, Gino. Lily? Lily, it's me. Lily. Oh. Oh, I... Come on in. Oh, that's all right. I can come back later. I'm from the police. Come on in. Come on, come on. Who are you? Police? Why, I... Lily! What... What happened to you, Lily? What did they do to you? Are you somebody to her husband or brother? I live across the hall. It's the first time I've ever seen her this close. The first time I've ever knocked on her door. I had a little speech. I was gonna tell her what my name is. What do you know about her? I listen to her every day. Yesterday when she came in, I decided... What time was that? About 6 p.m. Did she go out again? No. I know because I spent all that time making up my mind to knock on the door. Tell her I was a neighbor and what my name was. That's all you can tell me about her? Yes. Lily? Lily, listen to me. My name is Harry. Harry Lynn. Tartaglia. Tartaglia. Oh, it's you, Danny. The way I was standing here in the corner daydreaming, I'm not surprised I did not hear you come in. Dreaming? Because of the talent I discovered only last night in our little 6-year-old girl, Aida. Tell me about the talent. Oh, Danny, the way my little Aida plays the piano. Plays good, huh? Oh, not only good, Danny, but she plays the piano underhand. What? And by ear. By ear. Gino? Yeah, Danny? Did you run down that stuff I asked for on the phone? Goes without saying. What'd you got? Danny, this is the only comment? It's not important. What'd you get, Gino? Yeah. Well, Lily Prokosh, a writer of Things That Rhyme, gathered material nightly for her rhymes in the trade winds at the bar stool facing the station of the also deceased bartender Frank Dunn. In the daytime, escorted said Frank Dunn to literary tease. Last night, came home at 6 an hour after the established time of Frank Dunn's murder. Nothing else? Only that the knife handle was wiped clean. I kept after the boys, Danny, but that's all they could dig up. Yeah. You're a wonder hand, huh? Yeah, Danny. Ah, you should see little Aida. I'd like to. I really would. Be sure to invite me sometime, Gino. I see the wicker chair is still open, Milt. Danny, Danny, sit in it, kid. Two nights, I see you each time. To what has due this sudden harvest of Danny Clover? Not that the trade wind ain't humor, but to what has due? You know a girl named Lily Prokosh? Her name don't register with me, Danny. I'll ask for a reason. Is there a reason? The tall girl, blonde, harlequin glasses, spoke with a little bit of an accent. The one who wrote lousy sonnets on my napkin? She was a poet. The one who always comes in here with Mrs. Hathaway? That one, Danny. Well, what about her? You tell me, Lily Prokosh and Frank Dunn? Hey, yeah. Yeah, what? The other day. What are you talking about? The other day, yesterday, the day Frank met his kismet. She was in here with Mrs. Hathaway about 5.30. He asked for Frank. I told her he wasn't to work yet. I started to tell her where Frank lived, but she said never mind. She already knew, left. Then what? Then what? Yes, she left. Mrs. Hathaway with a martini and half-mask. The poet walked out. To see Frank? Yeah, yeah. She bumped Frank, huh? A doll like her. What do you know? And then start all over again, back to the room where I'd first seen Frank Dunn with his blood on the monogrammed sheets. Back to the room where this particular set of violence had begun to shape itself and touch once more the things that had belonged to a man who had been well-loved. The gold money clip with his initials written in chipped emerald, the gold cigarette case, the gold key chain, the silk robe that hung in the scented closet, and on none of these things the mark of an identity, the whisper of a killer's name. And all of it with the man in tweed at your elbow, commenting, snickering, fingering the imagined price tag. This little trinket must have cost one of them a good deal of her rainy-day savings. Put it down. Dead, don't touch. Is that it, Mr. Clover? Exactly that. There's an etiquette about these things, hmm? I've been wondering, Mr. Clover. My brow is furrowed with wonder. I noticed. Hardly touches me, though. Sorry, Tracy. I've been wondering why you asked me to partake with you of this, what shall I say, this chamber of horrors. Because you're a liar, Mr. Tracy. And I indulge myself on the proper occasion. What was the occasion of my doing it to you? Yesterday, when you showed me Frank Dunn. Oh, all that. You mean when I didn't reveal to you who had been visiting the bartender at his siesta before death. Now's a good time for revealing. Sorry, but it's slipped my mind. There's nothing the police can do about a mind like mine. Is there, Mr. Clover? Correction, there is. Who was here, Tracy? Who was here? Else you'll beat me? You hardly make it worthwhile defending a dead woman's honor. Who? That foreign thing with the wind in her hair and the mist on her eyeglasses. Lily Prokosh? I've heard her announce herself that strange way on the house phone. She stayed long enough with the bartender to read him her newest poem, but they had an interruption. You can reveal that, too. It'll cost me a dear little savings plan I had in mind. The interruption, who was it? Lovely frolicsome thing. Never been here before. Knocked on the bartender's door, was waved away, it seems. Tapped on my office door. Asked if I had a deck of cards. Wanted to play away love's bitterness. Sympathized. Played against her. One forty cents. Would have won more, only... Only what? In the midst of a deal, I had a call from the bartender ordering me to whisk the Prokosh thing away by freight elevator. I did. When I got back, my card-playing lady was gone. You won forty cents from her. That ought to make a girl like that unforgettable. Ever seen Louise Hathaway, Mr. Clover? I have in society columns. And that evening, she played cards with me. She's precisely what you say. Unforgettable. And walk the night streets and try to figure why did Louise Hathaway call on Frank Dunn and not being able to see him, content herself with playing cards with the hotel manager. Why had she gone to see Frank? She knew her friend, Lily Prokosh, was there. A lot of whys. And keep on walking. East from Broadway to Park and up to the 70s. And stop in front of the Canopy Department House. Pause, smoke a cigarette, then go in. And on the second floor, ring a bell. What do you want? Hello, Mr. Hathaway. I told you before... Let's go inside. You can tell me all over again. Thanks. Who is it, Edward? That cop. Yeah, me. Oh, hi. See, Mr. Clover, I stayed as put as put can be. I'm glad you did. That'll make it easier. What are you two talking about? Oh, we've got secrets, Edward. Yeah. About Frank Dunn. Oh, Danny, Edward knows all about that. Look, Louise and I were playing chess. Chess, huh? You know a lot of games, don't you, Louise? All the ones that are fun. Did you have fun losing 40 cents yesterday to that hotel manager? What's he talking about? What am I talking about, Mrs. Hathaway? Louise. Darling, listen to me. Let me handle this. Take your hands off me, Edward. Louise. You knew Lily was with Frank Dunn. Why did you go there, Mrs. Hathaway? Why? That's right. Lily was my friend. I didn't want to see her get in any trouble. I told you to let me handle it, Louise. Will you stop it? Stop it. You see, like I told you, Mr. Clover, she's wild. Louise, you're in a little trouble now. Let me handle it. Take your hands off me, can't you understand? Take your hands off! Oh, I'm sorry I lost my temper. I didn't mean to slap you. Hardware man, fat man, bald man, nothing man. Jump. Jump, Edward. Louise, don't make me lose my temper again. Why don't you jump for the man, Edward? You do everything else I want you to do. Tell the man what you did for me, Edward. You're crazy. What are you talking about? About murder. About murder, Edward. You once told me something, Mr. Hathaway. You said you'd kill anybody who laid a finger on your wife. Yes, he told me, too, over and over again. That's why you always followed me, Edward. That's why you followed me to Frank Dunn's apartment house that night. Shut up, shut up! And Frank wouldn't even look at me. He sent me away, Edward. And you killed him all because I spent an hour playing cards with the hotel manager. I was never with Frank, Edward. Never. But you killed him for me. Go ahead. Jump for the man. I followed you. I always followed you. I couldn't stand that you're going to see that man. Take the hardware man away, Mr. Clover. You, too. What? For killing Lily. You couldn't have, Frank. Lily was luckier. So you killed Lily. Oh, no, Edward did that for me, too. Didn't you, Edward? Didn't you, Edward? No, I didn't. I followed you to Lily's. Her door was open, wasn't it? I saw Lily after what you did to her. Well, you don't know what you're saying, Edward. Listen to me. You love me, Edward. I'm going to have to sign a confession, Louise. What I just said about following you to Lily's, I don't have to admit that. Sign my name to it. I could deny I ever said it. I don't know whether I will or not. I'll have to think about it. I love you. Honestly, truly, Edward, I love you. Jump, Louise. Jump. Broadway's quiet now. It's the four o'clock in the morning hour, the hour without color. But in a while, dawn will dip down and there'll be fury again and roar again and crowd. The restless wandering, the puppet dance, the running after nothing at all. It's Broadway, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway, my beat. Broadway's My Beat stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover with Charles Calvert as Tertaglia and Jack Crouchen as Muggavan. The program was produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with musical score composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. In tonight's story, Mary Jane Croft was heard as Louise. Her Butterfield as Edward, Joe Granby as Milt Barker, Edgar Barrier as Neil Tracy and Gladys Holland as Lily Prokosh. Just once around the clock aboard the second hand for Sing It Again, an hour of comedy, music and cash for the CBS listener who can identify the phantom voice. Jan Murray is your host, Judy Lynn Allendale, the Riddlers and Ray Block supply the music. Stay tuned now for Sing It Again which follows immediately over most of these same CBS stations. With Alan Anderson speaking, this is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
