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, transcribed with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. In the high noon blaze of July, Broadway walks soft, Broadway walks slow. The dream walk, the careful walk, rhythm to a regret for things that have not yet been. Because other summers have flowed in this street and other winds, and in their ebbing, the erratic gutter dance of the litter of the season, the snapshot of the July bathing beauty torn in half, then torn again and once more. The phone number written in lipstick on a bar room napkin, crushed, thrown against an alley wall, because it was a number that rang shrill on emptiness. No answer was the code for last summer. But this time it'll be different, so walk into it, but soft. And in the East 60s in the apartment where I was, where Detective Muggaband was, July sun, filtered and cooled by linen draperies, cut summer flowers floating in crystal vessels, sun dancing on the backs of tropical fish drifting in glass cages. The other thing, the man huddled in death, shot, murdered. The man doesn't strictly speaking belong here, Danny. Oh? As near as I can make out, the apartment is owned by a Johnny and Anna Lynn. A couple of letters addressed to them that way on a desk. Snapshot album in the bedroom, got engraved on its cover, the life of Johnny and Anna Lynn. A nice looking couple, real nice. Match books got Johnny and Anna printed on them. Good looking couple, both of them, man and the woman. Where'd you find on him? Gold stuff, things a well-dressed man in his profession would carry. Gold cigarette case, gold money clip with money. A wallet, alligator. Gold tip. Off the diamond, Muggaband. Oh yeah. His driver's license, identification card, business cards, all of them say he's... Wait a minute. Stacy Parker, jeweler to the discriminating, 617 Madison Avenue. Those liquor stains on the sofa, rug. Bourbon, that's how some people live. Bourbon highs at noon, a booze brunch. It's a way to live, a way to entertain. Sure it was, must have stood close to him. That happens like that sometimes. Nice place, huh, Denny? Yeah. Owned and run by a nice looking couple who just don't happen to be around. Drink and kill, then maybe go take a walk to where it's shady and cool. Well, you figure how, Muggaband. Happens like that sometimes. Okay, if I put the call into the boys now. Yeah, undo that, Muggaband. For an instant after that somehow, time reversed itself in the mind's eye. Look about the room, the beautifully furnished room, the room warmed by sun and the oddments of love. Books, a sonata opened on the piano rack, and on the mantelpiece a stone figure worn smooth by the touch of hands. And consider that before this day it was a room for living. Yesterday Mr. John Lynn and wife Anna sat here and talked here and had a life here. Then from outside the intruding sounds and suddenly the room becomes other things. An overturned glass, whiskey spilled on a rug, and violence and death, murder done at high noon. Get with it. Leave there and take the swift and noiseless elevator ride downstairs. Main lobby, the desk, show a badge, ask for the manager. Be directed to an office near the main door. Go there. Please come in. Sit down please. Thanks. Police. That's right. Your name please. Danny Clover. Indeed, mine's Burton, M. Norton Burton. Yeah, I know, it's on the door, it's on your desk and there you are. Yes, yes indeed. You know of course this is not our first murder. In 1946 Mr. Goodenow did away with Mrs. Goodenow up in 516, strangled her with a bed sheet. Also a triangle sling. Your department worked fast on it. You think the murder upstairs is a result of the triangle? I'd have no way of knowing, but on the face of it, if you want my opinion. No we don't, not if you have no way of knowing. I see. What can I do for you Mr. Clover? The man who was dead upstairs, he... I saw him. You saw him come in? Indeed not, I stuck my head in the door while your people were milling about. Then I came down here and waited for you. You came. Do you know who the man was? No. Tell me something about Mr. and Mrs. Lynn. They're out, I was standing in the lobby about an hour ago. They walked out, arms about each other as usual. What do you mean? I don't appreciate lovemaking in public places. Mr. and Mrs. Lynn always walk through my lobby arms about each other. That's lovemaking in public places. What else can you tell me about them? They paid their rent, which ended our responsibility one to the other. I know nothing else about them, except their exhibitionism in my lobby. Which might be something you know. Which might be I'm not too far off when I suggest triangle to you. A man murdered in the apartment of a married couple? What does it suggest to you, sweetness in life? I'll let you know, Mr. Burton. Thanks a lot. And leave there, and ride the humid July streets. And at intervals pause briefly for the traffic bewildered conquerors from out of town. And for pavement stickball games. And for the sandaled girl who walks lazily across the squad car's path, drains the stoplight down to its last drop of scarlet. It's summer in the city, and the pulse is slow. And in the places of waiting, they'll wait. And at headquarters finally, and fill out the report on violence and death. Issue the all points bulletin for the pickup of Johnny and Anna Lynn. Then back uptown to Madison Avenue to a jeweler's shop for the discriminating. Through glass cases lined with somber velvet, glinting with the precious stones that sleep under lock and key. That can be kissed awake by the caress of money. And the man in striped pants and the dark silk jacket, proper attire for handler of jewels. It goes to show. What, Mr. Miller, show what? How a man can leave his place of business, walk to someplace else in the noonday sun, and fall down exhausted from a bullet. That's what. That's how Mr. Parker's death impresses you? Mr. Parker was my boss. He said from clerk I could maybe work up to apprentice jeweler, and then master, and partners maybe. It was very impressive how he laid it out to me. This is the impression I get from his getting killed. Now? What? Now, I can never live up to those nice things he laid out for me. A whole new career of nothing is open to me. That's what. Tell me about your boss, Mr. Miller. You want an obituary from me for my late lamented employer? I haven't had experience. Now, just tell me about him. Nice fellow. Nice reputation in the trade. Handled himself real nice with both sellers and buyers. Sometimes a derelict one is in here, Mr. Clover. In a piece of newspaper, he's got a jewel that would make you cry. Mr. Parker would buy from him real nice, then sell at four times the price. But nice. Was he married? Did he have a family? No, and no. This was his family in these cases. What's locked in the vault in the back room. Sometimes after a real good day, he'd blow me to a martini, then walk away before I finished. This was his family. He was here this morning? He's got the only key to the shop. He was here. I can prove it to you. I got in, then after a little while he went off. Just how it was. How long, Mr. and Mrs. Lynn? Just how it was. Except he laughed and passed a remark when he told me where he was going. But you wouldn't know about that. Why was he calling on the Lins? With the Lins, my boss enjoyed the role of bill collector, personally. They ran up a bill, he went to collect, personally. And the remark he made before he left, what was it? You know, I forget. Mr. Parker was all the time passing remarks, right over my head. Maybe I should have jotted them down, then I wouldn't forget. Maybe it'll come to you, Mr. Miller, real soon, like next time we talk. Maybe. I gotta close up now, Mr. Clover. I gotta go order a sign that says close the count of death. It's the custom among merchants on the avenue. Bye, Mr. Clover. Danny? Come on in, Gino. As good as done. I want to explain to you why I came in late this morning, Danny. That's okay, Gino. I didn't even know anything about it. It was my morning for Marshall. What? Marshall, Marshall Rennbaum, the boy who lives across the street. This morning he left for the Catskills for two weeks summer camp. Every year, Mr. and Mrs. Rennbaum send him to me for a talking to before he goes to summer boys camp on how to conduct himself. Oh, what did you tell him? What I told him last year. If he gets Jags back-to-back, he should wait till the second time around before he raises. Things like that. You know, Danny, boys camp lore. Gino. Last year, Marshall stayed three weeks from what my advice did for him during the first two. Gino, do you have anything for me? Medical examiners report, Danny, the deceased, Mr. Stacy Parker, died instantly from a bullet wound of.32 caliber which pierced a temporal lobe, thereby proving without a shadow of a doubt that the holder of the gun was standing sideways to the deceased. Also, paraphernalia has revealed that the said shot was fired from a close and... Pardon me a minute, Gino. Goes without saying. Danny Clover speaking. Markham and Danny, just got a call from Officer Kendall from a call box on 110th Street. Think she's located Mr. and Mrs. Lynn. Where? East River Drive, Danny, in a parked car. Kendall will be waiting for you at the corner of the drive at 111th. Right. That car right across the street, sir. How long have they been parked, officer? Over an hour. I walked over to tell them there was restricted parking, saw who they were, called in without disturbing them. You will see why. I'll tell them you didn't mean... Mr. Lynn? You the police? That's right. You must be looking for us. My wife shot a man to death. Yes. Yes, I did. You are listening to Broadway's My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin, and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. National Guard and Reserves train side by side with active duty service members all around the world. They provide added strength, extended capabilities, ongoing support. Their mission is your mission. Their priorities are your priorities. To be combat ready, to provide a strong defense, to serve with dignity and pride. As they train with you, they'll be ready to serve with you anywhere in the world. When it's July, the heat that puffs down on Broadway causes minor miracles along its way. The natives festoon themselves with washable prints depicting surfboard riders, old Mount Fujiyama and Proverbs of the day. And you can tell the boys from the girls by the drape of the shirt tail, whether it's knotted in front or it just hangs there. And the season is vintage for the pineapple juice, the male heavy with postcards from Camp Joy Joy on the Hudson, saltwater taffy from Atlantic City, and genuine pine needles from the Catskills. And those that send them, deserters, don't mind them. Put on your Hawaiian shirt and Broadway's all yours. And at headquarters, the new July day, interrogation room and the buzz of the electric fan and murder suspect and husband, Mr. and Mrs. Johnny Lynn. It wasn't so bad, was it dear? What? I mean, spending the night in jail, it wasn't so bad. I mean, I didn't mind it. It was terrible. I woke up in the middle of the night. I woke up sober and I didn't know where I was. I screamed. The matron told me where I was. And I remembered. Everything? Yes. Your husband means about Stacy Parker, Mrs. Lynn. You remember shooting him? Johnny? Yes, dear. Why are they holding you? I guess we didn't make a lot of sense last night, Anna, the way we were drinking. Did we make a lot of sense, Mr. Clover? Your wife was saying she shot Stacy Parker. You were saying she didn't mean it. I guess I didn't. You feel better this morning, Mrs. Lynn? I'm frightened, that's all. What I did, what's happening now? Just tell them the way it happened. Yes. Well, go on, Mrs. Lynn. Mr. Parker came over to the apartment in the morning. Why did he come to your place? To collect a bill. He's a jeweler. I bought a watch from him. Why didn't he just bill you? How do I know why? The doorbell rang. I answered it. There he was. He said he'd come to collect his bill. I told him to come in. And we started to drink. Don't forget that, Johnny. And we started to drink. At what time do you start to drink, Clover? Why did you kill Stacy Parker, Mrs. Lynn? Mr. Parker stayed. Johnny went into the shower. Mr. Parker told me I looked attractive in the morning. And he went after her. Hannah said she screamed, but I didn't hear her on account of the showers being on. So you shot him? Yes. Yes, I did. You want to show me how it happened? After what she's just been through. You're tired, baby. Frightened. I don't want to talk anymore. We're going to have to hold both of you. I don't care. I don't care what you do. I'm not going to talk anymore. Danny Clover speaking. Muggerman down here in the Lynn apartment. Can you come up? What for? Been nosing around, found some things. Things maybe you ought to see. You coming? Right away. Take a look in this carved chest, Danny. It was locked, draped with a shawl. I got it open. All these ladies' handbags, a stack of boxes. They got ladies' hoes in them. All that stuff just thrown in and locked up, covered with a shawl. What do you figure this ladies' handbag is worth, Danny? Well, I wouldn't know. It's French. Here, see? Yeah. Made in France. Never used. The lace was made by hand. Beautiful. My wife stood in front of a shop window once and explained the bag like this to me. Then she caught her breath, stopped explaining. I wonder what it's worth. Had a whole slew in there, just as pretty. What else did you find? Hey, wait a minute. I want to show you something. This box of ladies' hoes. You ever see it more sheer than this? No, I asked you what else. Oh, yeah, you did. Over here, Danny, linen closet. I've got to show you. I'll lift this stuff out so you can see back in the shelf. Perfumes imported, rare, delicate bottles. My wife keeps stuff like that on her dresser in the bedroom where she can see it. Two bottles toilet water, one for evening, when she gets an evening. You can put the linens back now, my dear. Maybe it's the latest fad, huh, Danny? Stash the exotic perfumes in the linen closet so the sheets will smell nice. Fad, huh? Anything else? Oh, yeah, in Mrs. Lynn's bedroom. Right in here. On the nightstand next to her bed, this jewel box. All this jewelry, all snarled up, knotted. Real pretty stuff. Some expensive, some not. There's a hat box in the top shelf of the closet filled with more stuff like this. And a pillowcase stuffed with little art objects hidden behind the refrigerator in the kitchen. Want to see? Never mind. That's right, never mind. We've seen it all before, huh, Danny? Yeah. Yes? Mr. Lynn? Who is this? Red right of the Wright department stores. Hello again, Mr. Lynn. Hello. The usual thing, Mr. Lynn, our monthly chat. It's overdue. Chat? Someone's listening, huh? The Mrs.? Make your monthly excuse to the pretty Mrs. Lynn and come down, huh? Right away, Mr. Lynn. Thank you, right away. Keep looking, Moggum, and then check me at headquarters. You boys are tricky, aren't you? Why did you call Mr. Lynn? Why did you insist on seeing him? On account of about this time each month, he pays my department store a little visit. I called up to remind him. Trying to play it cagey, Mr. Wright? You get the drift. I'm going to tell you something, Mr. Wright. I was at the Lynn apartment when you called. This you know. What you don't know is that I saw enough loot in that place to stalk... Then you figured it, huh? I just want proof that I'm correct. Sure, sure. You're a real correct fellow. Mrs. Anna is a high-class thief. Real psychological stuff. Kleptomaniac. We've got maybe a dozen of them visit us regularly. And Mrs. Lynn only visits your more expensive department. Mm-hmm, like I said, high class. And the reason you called her husband. Tell me about that. It's an arrangement. He drops in sometime during the first week or so of every month. I give him a list of what wife he has heisted. He pays me, sits right where you're sitting, writes me a check without a whimper. Clean. No bargaining. No cops. Nothing. Just a check. I don't mind. Why should I mind? Nobody gets hurt. Back to headquarters then in the office. And through the walls, the echoes of a day's violence droned on teletype and typewriter. And from the open window, the murmuring of the summer city, the beat of July sun against steel and stone and pavement. And a gull that glides a swift curve, catches light on its wing, vanishes. Sit at the desk. Listen. Watch. And try to piece together the elements that have separately then enjoined climax, contrived the death of a jeweler, Stacy Parker, and a confession to his murder from a woman whose hunger for beauty made her steal and lock away and hide the things of beauty. A woman whose husband paid for her secret thefts and who was gentle with her and who was angry at the abrupt questions put to a confessed murderer. Try. Try. And welcome the interruption. Got things for you, Danny. You look hot, Muggerman. Take off your coat. Relax. Yeah, I'll do that. Hustle around the way I did, Danny. Your shirt gets clammy. Nothing you can do about it. Hey, what do you know? A cool breeze. You been places? Yeah. To a bank, mostly. Oh? I looked around the lint apartment some more, Danny, the way you told me. And what I found, it sent me hustling to a bank. What'd you find? Oh, in my coat pocket. Wait a minute, I'll show you. These checks. Some canceled. One not. They were in the desk. Oh, before you look at them, Danny, tell me something. All right. Can't think of a thing. All that loot we found in the lint apartment, what do you figure it comes to? In round figures. Come on, tell me. I don't know. But you do, don't you, Muggerman? Ten grand. I hacked the stuff down to the boys in technical. They gave me a quick appraisal. Ten grand, they figure. Even with the jewels. Now, look at the check on top made out to Stacey Parker, the uncancelled one, and signed Johnny Lint. $60,000. Tidy sum, huh? You found it, then you hustled to the bank. Yeah, I talked to Mr. Lebow there. He knew all about it. This kind of money impresses even bank tellers. Muggerman, I know you're hot. You've been through a lot. I'm coming to it, Danny. Give me a chance to breathe, huh? Stacey Parker brought this check into cash. Teller asked him, wait a minute, because there wasn't that kind of money in Lint's checking account. But it's not canceled. What happened? It goes like this, Danny. The teller called Lint, asked what to do about the check Mr. Parker just brought in. Lint said, let me talk to Mr. Parker. He did. Parker and Lint talked for a few minutes, then Parker hung up. All right, what else? That's all. Parker thanked the teller, took the check, left without cashing it. Wait a minute. This is the check. I wondered when you'd notice. You're right. It's been raised from $6,000 to $60,000. You did real fine, Muggerman. Thanks a lot. In here, Mr. Lint. Oh, wait a minute. Why? When am I getting out of this place? I've got to get outside. I've got to arrange about my wife's defense. In here. Sit down. Gino. She's out here, Danny. Send her in. Let's cool it off in here. Sit down, Mrs. Lint. How do you feel? Johnny. You look fine, baby. It's awful. Everything's so ugly. Look at me. Look at the way I look. It'll be all right, baby. You're going to have to get used to it, Mrs. Lint. Penitentiary is even worse. I can't stand it, John. I told you, Johnny, I can't stand it. Yeah, it's hard for a woman like you, a woman who likes pretty things. All women like pretty things. All women don't steal them. All right, she killed a man. You don't have to get cute about it. He knows about me, Johnny. You got a wife, Clover? No. You don't know anything. How long have you been covering up for her? What do you mean? Covering up for her, paying for what she stole. Tell him what the doctor said, John. He wouldn't understand. Kleptomaniacs, no rarity to the police, Mr. Lint. We know about their compulsion to steal, the reasons for it. Okay, so you know. You know about her and you know about me. Now that things happened, a terrible thing, my wife's killed a man. I've got to get out of here and do something about it. Johnny. I said it'll be all right. Mrs. Lint. What? I saw the things you stole. Beautiful things, exquisite things, expensive, soft, gold, sheer. You hid them away. Why? Ashamed. So ashamed. But you like it. You like it. Yes, yes I do. When I'm alone, when I'm alone, I take them out and I touch them. And from these things, I, I don't know, it's, it's a feeling. The things you buy me, Johnny, I never get that feeling from them. It's all over now. All the pretty things for a long time. Johnny. I told you. Johnny. Listen to me, Anna. Johnny, you got me drunk. Before that man, before Mr. Parker came to the apartment yesterday, you got me drunk. But you know what? I wasn't drunk, Johnny. Sure, sure. All the time, even when this man found us in the car, I wasn't drunk. Johnny. Honey. I can't stand this place. Listen, baby, it's going to be all right. Tell him. Tell him, Johnny. I know about the check, Mr. Lint. I know how it was raised and why it was raised. Blackmail. Stacey Parker raised that check from 6,000 to 60,000. He tried to cash it. Came to you. I'm sorry, Johnny. You know, I tell you, I'm sorry. I can't help it. I see something pretty. I got to have it. The doctor told you why. I don't understand why. My wife. My beautiful wife. My thieving wife. Look. Look, honey. I knew what you were doing all the while. When you shot that man, told me I did it. It was all right. I wanted to make it up to you some way. Because of what I've done to you. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. What I've done to you because I'm what you say. A thief. And what you've gone through for me. But I can't stand it. I can't stay in this place. It's ugly. It makes me ugly. I can't. I can't stand it. She can't stand it. That's my wife, and she can't stand it. What do you think? I've stood all these years. What do you think's been happening to me? You think I'm a... Okay, Clover, I'm your boy. Night turns into Broadway. And it's a corner torn out of a jagged dream, the stuff of nightmare. The million colors, the mob, and Blair that ebbs, screams again, and the faces darting, wavering, and lost forever. 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 Tartaglia and Jack Crouchon as Muggerman. Bill Anders speaking.
