Cry and Peter Chambers. Directed by Henry Kane, transcribed and starring as Peter Chambers, Dane Clark. Your private eye, that's your business. Anything else, that's for laughs. Your client is a lady, every inch a lady, and every inch of the lady, gorgeous. She's a blonde with black eyes which makes you sit up and take notice, and there's plenty to take notice of. I will not believe that my uncle committed suicide, is that clear Mr. Chambers? Despite the evidence, despite what the police say, despite anything, I simply will not believe it. Because he wasn't the type, that's why not. I know my uncle, simply and succinctly, he is not a man to take his own life. Okay, okay, now let's do it systematically. Your name is Irene Wilson, your uncle's name was Max Daly. He owns a delicatessen store on 57th Street and Broadway. He killed himself yesterday at one o'clock in the afternoon in the bathroom of his apartment. He did not kill himself. Well either he killed himself or he was murdered. It only happened yesterday, but according to the newspapers, it's already a closed case to the police. Which is why I've come to you. Well you realize that, aside from the physical evidence of suicide, the door to his apartment was locked from the inside. There are keys that can open such locks, Mr. Chambers. Who discovered the body? A neighbor. And what about your uncle's family? My uncle lived here alone. Where? 6666 Park Avenue. It's pretty fancy. And who was this next door neighbor, the one who discovered the body? A Mr. Clark Standish. According to the police, rich, retired, and an amateur musician. Well alright, now let's get back to Uncle Max Daly. Any enemies that you know of? No. Of course he was acquainted with many unsavory characters. Customers of that little delicatessen of his. Only last week, I was standing near the counter, off to a side, when a man came in. He talked for a while, excitedly, and then this man raised his voice, and I could hear him saying, I could hear him very clearly. So you listen to me, pastrami pedlar. You're getting too big for your britches, that's what you're getting. Your neck is sticking out, way out. I'm giving you very good advice, pal, and for free. You're asking for a bigger hunk of pie? Well you ain't getting it. Because with a bigger hunk of pie, you're liable to choke to death. This is the last time I'm telling you. When I asked my uncle about it, after the man left, he just laughed it off. Did you ever see this man before? No. Would you know his name? My uncle called him Lefty. Just a few more questions, Miss Wilson. Anything at all, Mr. James. You say that Max Daly ran an ordinary little delicatessen store? Yes. Well how come he lives in one of the fanciest apartment houses in New York? He must have been a rich man. I agree with that. Well then how come? Well, according to him, he made some very good investments, and those investments were paying off handsomely. Is there anything else, Mr. Chambers? No, I don't think there is. I know I can depend on you. Your first stop is police headquarters, and your first interview is with Detective Lieutenant Louis Parker, straight cop and good friend. So far, Pete, it looks like suicide, pure and simple. It seems he was shining his shoes when he got the impulse. A call came from a neighbor who heard the shot. We had to break our way in, the door was closed, knee inside. We found him in the bathroom. Yeah, I heard that. He was finished shaving, his own gun was beside him. He was a neat guy, Max Daly. He'd been shining his shoes, and he'd been wearing gloves while shining his shoes. Wearing gloves. Mm-hmm. He'd put his mind to knock himself off, and he does. So door to apartment locked, potter burns on temple close enough, nitrate impregnations in the right-hand glove, gun there on the floor. It's his own gun. Now what would you say, pal, murder or suicide? What would I say? Well, what difference does it make? Maybe this will make a difference. What? Your client, the gorgeous Irene Wilson. What about Irene Wilson? First, her little hat shop is somewhat kaput. Meaning? Meaning, it's on the verge of bankruptcy. So? So, she asked her uncle for a loan, and he refused. So? So, if anybody murdered him, she'd be the prime suspect. What, with her having a key to the apartment, too? Oh, sure, sure. And then, though the police say it's suicide, she comes to me to prove it's murder, just because she's got an affinity for the hot seat. There's a better reason than an affinity for the hot seat. Yeah? An affinity for 200,000 bucks? What are you talking about, Louis? Uncle Max Daly recently took out a life insurance policy in favor of pretty Irene. 100,000 bucks, 200 Gs in case of accidental death. Murder, that's accidental death. And suicide? Well, before the two-year incontestability clause goes into effect, suicide makes the policy null and void. Now, is it all beginning to come to you? Yeah. Yeah. If it's suicide, Irene gets nothing. If it's murder, and it can't be proved that she committed a murder, she gets 200,000 dollars. Very good, detective. She would be interested in showing that it wasn't suicide. And how she'd be interested? Where... Where are you going? To find out which way her interest is going to lead. To a cabana on the Riviera or a chair in Singsing. Next stop is 6666 Park Avenue, the apartment of Mr. Clark Standish. You stick your finger on the doorbell. For all you get is piano music. You keep pumping at that bell. Yes. Yes, young man. Name's Peter Chambers. I'm investigating the death of Mr. Max Daly. And I was told that you were the one who discovered the body. I didn't quite discover the body. But I would say that I was the one who turned in the alarm, shall we say? Come in, young man. Please come in. Clark Standish. Small, delicate, white haired, about 55 years of age. He's dressed in black pants, small pumps, silk blouse, and a maroon smoking jacket. He leads you into a lavishly furnished room when he leans delicately over a baby grand piano. I'm the man that called the police, but I didn't know that Mr. Daly was dead at the time. Well, would you mind telling me a little bit about it, sir? Certainly. It was about one o'clock yesterday afternoon. I heard a shot. A single pistol shot. Did you suspect where it came from? One needn't be very perspicacious for that, Mr. Chambers. You see, there are only two apartments on each floor, and it being a rather warm day, the windows were open. Uh, uh, the windows? Come here, Mr. Chambers. You see, as I draw this drape aside, a fire escape window. My neighbor's window also opens on this fire escape. Two windows, two apartments, mutual fire escape. As I said this, having been a rather warm day, these windows were open to the breeze, and I was able to hear the shot distinctly. I see. Well, sir, I was playing the piano at the moment, and when I heard the shot, I attempted to disregard it, hoping perhaps it was a backfire from downstairs. You know how it is. But it kept nagging at me, and finally I went across and I rang his bell. There was no answer. I kept ringing. Still no answer. So I came back here. I didn't know if I was doing quite the right thing, but I called the police. Well, it turned out that you did exactly the right thing, didn't it, Mr. Standish? So it seems. Tell me, sir, did you know Mr. Daly well? Friends or just acquaintances? Matter of fact, I didn't know him at all. Usual New York story, not knowing your neighbor, but I suppose it's common enough in this city. Yes, of course. Did see each other occasionally and nodded, but we never actually spoke. I do hope I've been of some assistance, Mr. Chambers. Thank you very much, Mr. Standish. You've been very kind and most cooperative. Oh, not at all. And if there's anything further, please don't hesitate. You get out of there and you go to a cafeteria and you sit over coffee and a cigarette and you ponder. But the coffee, the cigarette, and the pondering adds up to a large hunk of nothing. So you go to the real estate agent, the people that run 66, 66 Park Avenue. You ask about Max Daly and they tell you that each tenant has to be sponsored and recommended. You ask to see the papers on Max Daly and they oblige. And you take a look. You take a good look and then you beat it out of there and you hurry back to police headquarters and barge in on Louie Parker. Oh, Pete, it's not like you. Louie, Louie, listen. You're really pressing me this trip, son. Please listen to me, will you? Did you check those gloves on Max Daly? Sure, we checked the gloves. Nitrate particles in the right hand glove, just like I told you from the gunshot. Oh, no, no. I mean, did you check them where he bought them? You know, that kind of stuff. No, why should we? Look, Pete, you know, you can't start terrific investigations every time a guy knocks himself off. Louie. A lot of crime in this city, a lot of crime, not too many cops. Police commissioner himself said it. It doesn't figure. It just doesn't figure. Oh, there he goes. Psychological on me again. I can see the look in your eye. Look, the niece insists he wasn't the suicide. The niece has an ax to grind. Two hundred thousand ax. Yeah, but you said yourself he was shining his shoes using gloves not to get his hands dirty. He was neat. Shining shoes with gloves on his hands. That's not neat. That's screwy, Louie. It's screwy. Maybe you've got to point the evidence. Now, you just can't waste the taxpayers' money on every little psychological... Do me a favor. What? A special favor just for me. Sure, sure. Check those gloves, will you? Ah, OK. Special for my little old psychological private eye. You go up to Irene Wilson's exclusive hat shop on Madison Avenue and you fire a few questions at her. She's wearing a smock, but this baby is gorgeous even when she's wearing a smock. A black eye's blazed as she gives you her speech. Yes, I am on the verge of bankruptcy here. Yes, I asked my uncle for a loan and he refused. He had no confidence in this shop, in this location. He was always a good businessman. Yes, there is a policy in my behalf. Yes, I know I get nothing if he committed suicide and I know I get two hundred thousand dollars if it is proven that he was murdered. Yes, I did not tell you any of that and there was other things that I haven't told you. I don't tell everybody everything, but I did tell you what I thought was relevant and I tell you again, I don't believe he committed suicide. I do believe he was murdered and I don't want you to believe that I murdered him. So you're on your white horse again, a private eye knight on his bedraggled white horse galloping around the asphalt wilderness looking for answers. You wind up in Max Daly's delicate test, the gallant knight munching on a pastrami sandwich. The joint is open and running despite Daly's decease and the waitress keeps eyeing you. Finally she moses over. Say, you're Peter Chambers, ain't you? You're the eye guy, ain't you? Yeah, yeah, I'm the eye guy. I'm going to tell you something. Wait, wait, just a minute. Would you get me a bicarb this? The food is wonderful, but it always... Listen. Listen. What? For the past few years, Max Daly was running a book here, a big book. I wouldn't have said anything, but since he got it, I thought... Look, what kind of book? Everything. Horses, basketball, hockey, baseball. Here? There isn't even a phone in this place. Except a business phone. That's just it, Mr. Chambers. Phones, that's passe. Comes a reform where they all get tapped, everybody winds up in the pokey. This is a new kind of operation. The bets come in personally. I don't get it. Anybody wants to make a bet, they write it out on a slip of paper. I don't get it. Anybody wants to make a bet, they write it out on a slip of paper. I don't get it. Anybody wants to make a bet, they write it out on a slip of paper. I don't get it. Anybody wants to make a bet, they write it out on a slip of paper. Stick their code name on it and bring it in here, personally. Then they hand it to one of the waitresses, but to Max himself. I dig all right. That's a pretty smart gimmick. Did Max handle all this himself? He got a percentage. Who was the boss? Guy named Moore. Lefty Moore. No. Yeah. So you're on the run again. You're looking for a hulking hood, ex-wrestler type. Lefty Moore. You visit all his usual haunts, but Lefty's strangely missing. So you switch from the nefarious to the sublime and you're back in Parker's office. And this time he's glad to see you, albeit he's roaring like a bull. Eat me lad. This is one time you did me a good turn. That guy was murdered, no question about it. He was murdered, murdered, murdered. Who was murdered? Who he asked. Max Daly, that's who. Murdered, period. The gloves tip me, your suggestion. The gloves Max Daly was wearing. Easy, Louis. Easy. Now wait a minute, wait a minute. Yeah. Well, we check the gloves carefully, you see. First they're too small for him. Second, they're very expensive, quite new and not to be used for polishing shoes. Third, they come from a London shop. Max Daly never was in London. Men's gloves, Louis, or ladies? Well, it could be either small, you know, like a gauntlet type. So somebody worked out a neat little frame job, huh? Uh-huh. Add to that a careful examination. The bathroom floor discloses the imprint of sneakers. Sneakers. Men's sneakers or ladies? Well, again, it could be either small size. Well, how do you make it, Louis? According to you, his apartment door was locked from the inside. Yes, but the fire escape window was open. Leads down to the alley in the rear. Now, somebody, wearing sneakers, snuck in... Sneaked in. Sneaked in, they took Max's gun out of a drawer. Then he goes into the bathroom where Max has just finished shaving, moved close, let him have it. Then they put the gloves on Max, fixed up the shoeshine routine, sneaked out. It's not that. Sneaks. Now, what are you barbers? I was only kidding. Wait a minute. Any idea who it was? You know who figures the benefit. But I'm letting it rest for a while. I'm just letting it simmer. Just want to see what cooks up, you know? Louis. How's that fire escape window? Still open? Oh, it's closed tight now, sealed. Which means that I'll have to use the door. Means you'll have to use the what? The door, the door. I'd like to look the place over, seeing as I'm your white-haired boy now, may I have the key? Oh, yes, sir, white-haired boy, you may. Max Daly's got a cute little place, and you've hardly even begun when there's an instrument jiggling at the door lock. You wait, and the door opens. And there, big as life, with a picklock in his hand, lefty Moore. You jump him, you feed him to the first punch. He's a big one, but you manage to drop him. Then you drag him in and kick the door shut. All right. All right, Chalmers, lay off. Lay off! Now, look, pal, the gun I'm holding is out of your holster. Now, if you insist that I use it, I use it. Is that clear? Yeah, yeah, clear. All right, now, breaking and entering, that's burglary. You can get a long rap for that. Now, if you talk up, and if you talk up good, maybe the rap won't be so long. Am I still clear? Yeah, yeah, clear. All right. Now, what do you want here? A ledger. A ledger? I waited till the heat was off, and now I'm here looking for a ledger. What kind of a ledger? Max Daly. He was doing some high-class bookmaking. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. So he kept a ledger, a black leather record book. Well, how do you know the cops don't have it? Are you kidding, Chalmers? If the cops ever had that book, there'd be rockets busting all over this town. Lefty, let me ask you something. Yeah? Where were you yesterday at 1 o'clock? You mean when Maxie was bumped? I got the best alibi in the world. Alibi? Yeah, I was in court, plead not guilty to a traffic rap. Have you been to London? London? Oh, well, what's with London? You mean, in London, you're... Okay, okay, Lefty, let's... you and I together look for that black leather record book. You talk me into it, Chalmers. Leave us look. You look, but you do not find. So you attach Lefty to a minion of the law with instructions that'll be placed in the capable hands of Detective Lieutenant Louie Parker. And back you go to Irene Wilson, real glamorous now, in a man-tailored red gabardine suit. You pump questions at her, and what do you know? For once, she comes up with the right answer. Yes, my uncle did have a black leather record book. He kept it here at my shop. His instructions were that I was to destroy it upon his death, but in the circumstance... Give me, honey, give me quick. I never looked at it. He kept it in a locked briefcase, which I kept here in my place. Okay, let's have it. Yes, Mr. Chambers, I'll get it for you. Please wait. You wait, and you grab, and you break open that lock, and you look. And then you're running again. And then you're at 66, 66 Park Avenue at the apartment of Clark Standish. Ah, Mr. Chambers, any new ideas on the subject of Max Daly? Plenty, and they're all about you. I beg your pardon. You went through that window wearing sneakers. You got into his place, clipped his gun, caught up with him in the bathroom as he finished shaving, and you let him have it. And then you pulled that shoe shine routine, slipped your gloves on his hands, left the gun there, and beat it back to your place. And then, sweet and innocent, you called the police. You had heard a shot. You want to know your first mistake? I'm listening, Mr. Chambers. You told me you didn't know him. You never spoke to him. You had a check at the real estate office, showed that you sponsored him. Uh, slipped your mind, didn't it, Mr. Standish? But why should I kill him, Mr. Chambers? What motive would I have? Well, I got that right here, Mr. Standish. Right here in Max Daly's record book. Oh? We may be able to do business, Mr. Chambers. Oh, real brain guy, huh, Mr. Standish? Dreamed up an idea of personal embedding, no telephones involved, had left him alone funding for you. Let's talk business, Mr. Chambers. You did business with Max Daly, but when he got too big for his britches, when he wanted a big hunk of pie, that business was stopped with a bullet. That ledger is worth enough to me for you to retire for the rest of your life. Are you going to give it to me? Uh, by the way, Mr. Standish, do you buy your clothes in London? Yes, I do, but that is of no importance right now. Are you going to give it to me? Oh, yes, sir. And how I'm going to give it to you. No! And so, with all the bad little boys safely put away in the pokey and after congratulations have bounced around like rubber balls in their children's playground, you suddenly realize you've never settled the fee with Irene Wilson, and she is coming into 200,000 solid simoleons. So that evening, you're at Irene Wilson's apartment ready to discuss your fee, and there she is in gold lounging pajamas on me. You're quite attractive, Mr. Chambers. Now that it's all over and I have an opportunity to observe... And you, beautiful is the word, and beautiful is an understatement. You said there was something to discuss. Let it wait, Irene, let it wait. Let it wait, wait. I wouldn't wait too long if I were you. That is very good advice. Oh, Mr. Chambers. And there you've had Crime and Peter Chambers. Dane Clark was starred as Peter Chambers. Crime and Peter Chambers Transcribe was created and written by Henry King. Others in the cast were Bill Zuckert, heard as Lieutenant Parker, Elaine Ross as Irene, and Leon Janney as Clark. It was directed by Fred Way. And this is Fred Cullen speaking. Oh, come on agora, Dean Swapedog! Be with us again next week at this same time for another adventure by Peter Chambers in Crime and Peter Chambers. This is the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service. The United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service. The United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service. The United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.
