When it started, a girl's wedding and New Year's Eve were only six hours away. And I didn't think the bride-to-be would make either one of them. But that was before I ran up against the slot machine operator, the escape convict, and above all, the old acquaintance. From the pen of Raymond Chandler, outstanding author of crime fiction, comes his most famous character as CBS presents... The Adventures of Philip Marlowe. And now with Gerald Moore, starred as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's exciting story, The Old Acquaintance. At six o'clock in the last evening of the year, I was sitting with my feet up on my office desk thinking of impossible New Year's resolutions... and what the girl on my butcher's 1949 calendar would or would not be wearing. But at that pleasant point, there was a soft, almost apologetic knock on my office door. I said come in and saw a quiet man in quiet clothes who extended a quiet hand. He introduced himself as Paul Riker, a Beverly Hills insurance broker. But the tremor in his voice said, very worried client, which on New Year's Eve was something I could do without. Mr. Marlowe, you've got to find Nancy Marshall for me. Just for a springboard, Mr. Riker, who is Nancy Marshall? She's my fiancee. We were to be married at my place in Beverly Hills tonight. On New Year's Eve? Yes, you see, it was at a New Year's Eve party a year ago that we met for the first time. Oh, when did you last hear from her? Two hours ago. She called and said that she was in terrible trouble, that nobody, especially the police, could help her, that the wedding was off. I see. You're sure it's not just a matter of your being left at the altar, huh? Another man. Oh, no, no, I'm certain that's not it. Now, please, Mr. Marlowe, will you help me? Mr. Riker, to you, New Year's Eve means wedding bells, but to me it's something else, specifically a cozy little apartment at Wilshire Boulevard, where there's a very nice girl and a couple of chilled bottles of sham. Oh, what is it, Mr. Marlowe? What's wrong? Shh, there's somebody outside. Riker, get away from that door. Quick! Whoever threw those shots through the frosted glass at my office door wasn't interested in checking up on his marksmanship, because by the time I got to my feet, he was taking the stairs to the street. When I got outside, I was just in time to see him pile into a pickup truck and roar off. The best I could do was get a face full of exhaust fumes and the last three numbers on his license plate, which read 711. When I got back to Riker and the glass on my office floor, I found the potential groom whiter, shakier, and less quiet than at our first meeting. Marlowe, did you get him? Do you know who it was? No, I don't. Now, relax a minute, Riker, and think. Who could possibly object to you and Nancy getting married? That's just stiff. There's nobody I know of, Mr. Marlowe, and I'm positive that the same is true of Nancy. All right, now tell me, where does Nancy live? In a villa at 1428 North Havenhurst Drive, number 12. But I've already been there and she's gone. Were you inside? No, no, the door was locked, but Mr. Marlowe, I thought you had specific plans for this evening. I do, but from the way things stack up right now, they've got a better chance of keeping the Nancy Marshall. Now, look, go back to your place in Beverly Hills, stay away from frosted glass windows, and whittle your ear from me. We're real lucky, Mr. Riker, it still might turn out to be a happy New Year. When Riker left the office, I called Lieutenant Barra at police headquarters. After being told that it would take at least a half hour to get my kind of lead out of the 7-11 I had on the pickup truck's license, I headed for Nancy's villa on North Havenhurst, where it took me ten minutes to outsmart the catch on the back door. Inside, except for a carelessly overturned box of old snapshots, which meant nothing to me, with a lot of half-open drawers and closets, I was no place. And in the kitchen, where there was a full cup of cold coffee next to an open newspaper, the setup was almost the same. But not quite, because on the front page of the paper, there was a banner story, complete with pictures, that shouted the news of three men who had broken out of the state penitentiary that morning. And one of them, a man named Steve Doyle, had a face that I'd seen only minutes ago on one of the snapshots in the overturned box. I grabbed the paper and started back to check with the snapshot once again for good measure. But the second I stepped into the living room, I stopped. Hello. I don't believe I know you. Oh, the voice matched the lady perfectly. She was tall, beautiful, blue, and had about thirty. Wearing a beige metallic wool jersey that covered more curves than a ride on a roller coaster. But the large monogrammed A on her purse meant that this was not the woman who had planned to marry Paul Reicher. I said I don't believe I know you. The name is Arthur Murray. You're late for your rumble lesson. Oh, never mind the jokes, bright boy. It's a waste of your time and mine. All right, then we'll play it very straight. Name is Philip Marlowe. I'm a private detective and I'm working for a very worried man. Now you, what's your connection with Nancy Marshall? I'm just, shall we say, an old acquaintance? That's all. Not enough. I'll prime the pumps some more. I was hired to find Nancy, who seems to be in a lot of trouble. And coincidentally in trouble on the same day that Steve Doyle breaks out of Stur. Now once more, exactly where do you fit in? I don't think I'll tell you, Mr. Marlowe. If you don't mind. Well, I... Oh, Pearl Handle, huh? How very chic. But deadly. Now get in that closet there, Marlowe. Go on. All right, all right. Just so we don't go through this same routine when we meet again. And we will. Who are you? You don't listen very carefully, Marlowe. I've already told you that I'm an old acquaintance. It's the season for them, remember? Now get in there and shut up. Nancy Marshall's villa was post-war construction at its worst, closets included. So I didn't stay tucked away with the mothballs any longer than it takes to say old acquaintance. The minute I kicked my way out, I went right for the telephone and my only 100% bonafide lead. The number is 711. This is Lieutenant Ebar. I'm here to see you. This is Lieutenant Ebar. Marlowe Ebar. Anything for me on that license number? Oh, yeah. If you're sure it was a pickup truck, the chances are pretty good that it either belongs to a party name, Maurice J. Calder at 409 South Main, or one Jerome Graff, 3221 and a half Melrose Avenue. Check. What's up, Phil? Anything I might be interested in? That depends. Ever hear of a guy named Steve Doyle? One of that gang that broke out this morning? The very same. Matter of fact, he's probably driving that pickup truck right now. But look, Ebar, I think I know what I'm doing, so how about letting me run this end of it until I get stuck? There's a girl named Nancy Marshall mixed up in this, and a delay at this time might cost her her life. All right, I'll stay clear, Phil, for a while. Good. But just so you don't get too careless, remember, Doyle got out of jail this morning the hard way. He killed two guards. Oh, fine. Goodbye, Marlowe. When I got to 409 South Main, I knew that my first choice had to be wrong, because Maurice J. Calder turned out to be a bankrupt junkman, and his pickup truck, which was loaded with everything including a kitchen sink, had three flat tires and hadn't moved in a week. So if the numerals 7-11 were going to live up to their reputation, Jerome Graff had to be my man, and that made the time to be careful now. 3221 and a half Melrose was a tired cottage set back about 50 weed-covered feet from the sidewalk, and from the rusted sirens Jerry Graff, mechanic dangling at a crazy angle from a weather-beaten beam over the front door. I gathered that the place doubled as both Mr. Graff's living quarters and shop. I didn't see any truck out front, so I decided to try the alley in the rear before I knocked on any door. It was then that I noticed for the first time that I was being watched by a short man with a long face, who was slouched against a nearby tree like a marionette with no strings attached. If you're lost, mister, maybe I can help you. Maybe? I was looking for a pickup truck. Seen one around? A pickup truck. Now I wonder what that could be. Well, it's a small deal, about a half a ton, and... Oh, I get it. Okay, here. Here's five, now my question. Jerry Graff owns a pickup truck, but it ain't here. It's been out since dark. But Jerry's in. He's working late tonight. Working at what? Come on, you got your five, talk. Okay, it ain't no secret. Jerry's a nursemaid for one-armed bandits. Slot machines, huh? Is that his record? Yeah. He used to be a big boy with them, too. But times have changed. Now he just works on them for other guys. What other guys? Oh, mister, I wouldn't answer that for even another five. I wouldn't stay in business very long if I did. But I'll tell you one thing for free in case you're gonna visit, Jerry. What's that? Watch out for him. He's a very nasty man. Thanks, but I can take care of myself, buster. What do you want? Information. Where's your pickup truck, Graff? Somebody stole it, but he didn't leave his card. Why, what, are you a private dick? That's right, but one that works close to the law. So why don't we call the boys in blue and tell them all about it? The cops? No, wait a minute. I don't like the law pattern around here. Come on in. I'll tell you what you want to know. Let's not skip any of the details, huh? Like, for example, the name Steve Doyle. Doyle? I don't know. Well, okay, fella, you win. The story goes something like this. Want to try again? That may be a monkey ranch. You'll convince it. You don't throw any straight in your talk, Graff. Come on. What do you say? Do we play some more? Come on, talk. Come on. Come on. Wait a minute. I'll talk. All right. Enough. So far I know a girl named Nancy Marshall's in some kind of trouble because Steve Doyle broke out of the pen this morning. Now, you fell in a blank. Oh, sure, sure. Why not? Oh, Steve Doyle, he used to be crazy about Nancy, but she didn't go for him. Then about a year ago, a little more maybe, Steve got picked up for knocking over a grocery store. He figured he was caught because Nancy tipped the law to get him out of her hair. Now he's out to get Nancy for revenge, is that it? Yeah, that's it. And anyone who's close to her gets the same treatment. Now, tell me, was Doyle here? Is he the one who's driving your pickup truck? Yeah, but it wasn't my idea. He shoved a gun in my face, said we were old friends, and asked for the keys. Know where he is now? No, but if I did, I'd keep it to myself. Doyle's full of hate, brother. You can count on that. Now, what do you say about clearing out of here? Just as soon as I find out one more thing. Now, there's another girl mixed up in this. She's a brunette with a lot of curves and the initial A. Calls herself an old acquaintance of Nancy's. Any idea who she is? No, not the slightest. You're a liar, Graff, and if I had time, I'd beat the truth out of you. You don't believe me, because if you don't hustle, mister, when you do catch up with Nancy Marshall, you're gonna catch up with the corpse. Nothing more. When I got outside, two things stood out in my mind like a pair of cleats at Carnegie Hall. First, my client's fiancé was not the most innocent dame in Greater Los Angeles. And second, I wasn't gonna get any place until I could locate the old acquaintance. But then, just as I started for my car, the slouch who had sold me the dirty thumbnail sketch on Jerry Graff came running toward me. Hey, hey, hey, mister. Did everything work out all right? I was called away on some other business or I'd have been here waiting. Waiting for what? Well, you know, in my game, I now and again give a guy a little more dope than he bargained for, and in that case, I sometimes end up with a bonus, so to speak. Well, right now, we're about even. But if you can tell me anything about a beautiful brunette whose first name starts with an A, I'll give you a bonus. It'll keep you in beer and pretzels from now until the 4th of July. A name that begins with an A? Yeah. Hey, she... She visited with Graff this morning, maybe? Yeah, it's possible. Come on, think. Think hard. She's kind of tall, dresses like a million bucks. That's right. Now, what's her name? Here, look. $20 bill. Her name, what is it? It's... Yeah, yeah, I got it. Adrian Starr, 1312 Lookout Mountain Road. How do you know that? It was on the registration card in her car. I took a peek while she... Trouble at Graff's. I'll take my 20. Goodbye. I beat it up to walk to Graff's, and when I got inside, I found exactly what I expected. Doubled up on the floor in the middle of a lot of oily machine parts and still holding her stomach with both hands was Jerome Graff, a very dead man. I started for a telephone to call Lieutenant Eborah, but then I noticed something small and gold lying a few feet away from the body. When I picked it up, I saw it was an ornamental buckle, the kind that a lady might wear on a coat. So I decided to skip Lieutenant Eborah for the time being, call my client instead. Hello? This is Marlow, Riker. Oh, yes, Marlow, what is it? What have you found out? Quite a bit. But first I've got to know one thing. Does Nancy Marshall have a gold belt buckle? A gold belt buckle? Yeah. Why, yes, she does on her black coat. But what about it, Marlow? What does it mean? I'm not sure, Mr. Riker, but it may mean that Nancy Marshall just killed a man. In just a moment, we will return to the second act of the adventures of Philip Marlow. But first, by this time a week from tonight, Jack Benny will have made his first broadcast exclusively on the CBS network. Starting next Sunday, you'll find Jack here with Mary Livingston, Phil Harris, Rochester, Dennis Day, Don Wilson, and all the others who have made The Jack Benny Show a regular Sunday evening delight for millions of Americans. Just for fun, The Jack Benny kind of fun, make a New Year's resolution to hear The Jack Benny Show every Sunday starting a week from tonight, January 2nd, over these same CBS network stations. And now with our star, Gerald Bohr, we return to the second act of Philip Marlow and tonight's story, The Old Acquaintance. When I told Paul Riker that the chances were good that his bride-to-be had just knocked off a slot machine operator, my client reacted like I'd kicked him in the stomach. When he caught his breath again, he started telling me I was wrong and didn't stop until I hung up on him. Next thing on the agenda was a call to Lieutenant Eborah. Lieutenant Eborah speaking. Marlow again, Lieutenant. Oh, did you find the owner of that pickup truck, Phil? Yeah, I found him, Eborah. I'm calling from his shop now. I had a talk with the guy. It was Jerry Graff. What do you mean, was Jerry Graff? Well, somebody came in here and shot him just after I left. He's dead. Dead? He knew Steve Doyle all right, but I'm pretty sure Doyle didn't kill him, Eborah. No, then who did? Any idea, Marlow? Well, looks very much like my client's fiancee, Nancy Marshall. I still don't know where she is or how it all fits together, but look, I got a lead on an old acquaintance of Nancy's named Adrian Starr. She lives up on Lookout Mountain Road. Now, if you don't hear from me in saying, oh, you might check, number 1312, that's my next stop. Okay, just be sure it's not your last stop. Goodbye. Goodbye. I drove up Laurel Canyon to Lookout Mountain. The only sign of life was a young couple park where they could look down at the city lights if they wanted to. I backed into a bushy driveway across Adrian Starr's bungalow and stopped. It was small, modern, and looked deserted, except for one dim light upstairs. I was about to get out and verify that when a pair of headlights flashed down the road and a yellow convertible swept to a halt in front of the place, it was Adrian Starr who got out. She started up the walk toward her front door, stopped suddenly, and then ran back to her car and drove off again. I kept the yellow convertible in sight. When it turned on Havenhurst and stopped in front of Nancy Marshall's villa, I pulled up in time to see Adrian step inside and close the door. So I followed her. Marlow, what do you want? I want to know what Jerry Graff means to you, Adrian. I don't know any Jerry Graff, so it means nothing. Come on, stop it. You went down to his shop to see him this morning. I thought you might like to know that he's dead. Mm-hmm. The cops are hungry for anybody who so much as knew his name. Maybe I'd better come inside and talk it over, don't you think? Yeah, maybe you'd better. Just a minute. Thanks. Hey, it's dark. Why don't you turn on more lights? Because I like it this way. Okay. But, honey, if you've still got that pearl-handled popcorn of yours, let's leave it out of the conversation. And let's make it straight. Why'd you drop in on Graff this morning? Because I knew that sooner or later Steve Doyle would hit there. I had to know if Steve intended to leave town or was still determined to get his crazy revenge. An old Nancy Marshall, huh? You know your sticky-ass You know you're sticking your neck out quite a ways just for old times' sake, baby. Steve Doyle's a pretty tricky guy to mix with at this point. You can say that again, Phil. Steve? Oh, Steve. Steve Doyle. That's right. Who are you, mister? Marlowe, private detective. Sit down over there, private detective. Keep your hands out of your pockets. I don't like you because you're half cop, but play it smart and you won't get hurt. Well, Adrian, like old home week, huh? Oh, it's been a long time, Steve. Yeah, it sure has. Where is she, Adrian? Where's Nancy? I don't know, Steve. You're lying to me. This is her place. You got her with a key. You've been down to see Graff. You know where she is, all right. So tell me and tell me fast. Steve, Steve, listen. Forget it. Forget about Nancy. This revenge will only get you in the gas chamber. Please, let's get away. We can still make it across the border. Please take me with you. I love you, Steve, just like I always have, even when you throw me over for Nancy. Shut up. Shut up. Just tell me where Nancy is. Come on, Adrian. I don't know, Steve. Stop it, Doyle. Where is she? Steve, you're hurting me. Doyle. Don't move, molo. All right, fell, I told you to behave. I've been through a lot and I'm tired and I'm running out of time. You're getting in my hair and that's bad. Oh, no, Steve, don't. I won't shoot him. I can't afford the noise. I can give him something just as good. Now, Adrian, try again. Where is Nancy? I don't know, Steve. Come on, where is she? I don't know. Please, I don't know. Where is Nancy? Where is Nancy? Where is Nancy? I couldn't remember where I was. How long I've been lying there. But gradually I got the crazy idea that I was being robbed by a very unhappy crook. Because I was sure that somebody was crying and going through my pockets at the same time. Oh, I tried to open my eyes. But all I could see was a little gold buckle dance back and forth in front of me. When it finally disappeared altogether, I rolled over and to hold myself up onto my knees. And then it all came rushing back to me. I'd been in Nancy Marshall's villa with Steve Doyle and Adrian Starr. And when they were gone now and I was alone, I heard a car start outside. So I got on my feet and made it along the wall to the door. It was Adrian and she was behind the wheel of my coupe. Stay away from me, Marlow. Where is Doyle? He took my car. He's gone off to Nancy. I've got to stop him, Marlow. So get out of the way. Somehow I managed to jump back just in time. I keep from getting a press job with the tread of my own fist tires. And it took ten minutes of steady concentration to get it through my... ...srobbing head that Adrian had actually stolen my car and was gone. Oh, the cold air must have helped me because... ...one thought led to another and I finally began to separate the facts from the fancies. I hadn't dreamed all I thought I had. And when I realized that the whole idea hit me and hit me hard... ...I knew that I'd better get out to Lookout Mountain in a hurry. I made it to Sunset. I failed the cab and collapsed on it. What to, mister? Look out Mountain Road. Make it fast. It's rugged in this traffic. Two years eight, you know. Here's ten bucks. Does that help? It's important. Oh, it helps plenty. I know a great shortcut, a new road that's not yet finished. But how are you on bumps? Few more won't matter, pal. Let's go. When it was over, I felt like I'd crossed the country on a pogo stick. But the cab driver was a genius and with a shortcut... ...we made the distance to Lookout Mountain in less than ten minutes. When we got near the place, I sent the cab back down the hill out of danger. Went the rest of the way on foot. As I got within sight of Adrian's bungalow, I saw Steve Doyle getting out of the yellow convertible. Ran up to the house, tried the door, it was locked. Nancy, where are you? I know you're in there, baby. I'm gonna find you, but I have to take this joint apart. You've got some old business to settle, remember? So have we, Doyle. Drop that gun. Stand still. Okay, sucker. You won't need that gun anymore, Doyle. Just kick it over there out of the way. Someday I'll get you for this fella. I doubt it, Steve. You're all finished with your two-fig headed to see it. Well, I guess it's time to relax and wait for Adrian. And we call the cops, huh? Adrian just arrived, Marlow. Don't turn around or I'll kill you. Adrian. There we are, Marlow. Touch your gun back here to me. Come on now! It's better. Oh, Steve. Steve, I hear you're hurt bad. Darling, can you make it to the car? I'll try, Adrian. Got me on this side. It's bad. Oh, Steve. Sorry, darling. Hurry. I'll be with you in a minute. I'll make it okay. Well, Marlow? Yeah. Okay, Adrian. Tell me one thing first, Marlow. Did Steve get to Nancy? No. You killed Graff in time to shut him up, too, huh? So Steve will never know the truth, will he, Adrian? Could be it was you who crossed him and sent him to prison. He'll never find out. Not now. And he'll never realize how much I love him, either. That's why I did it, Marlow. It was the only way I could hold him for myself. And I was willing to wait. Can you understand that? Yeah. I guess I can. Too bad a love like yours has to be wasted on a guy like Steve. You'll never get away, honey. Not with him. You'll never make it. Maybe not. But if he goes out, at least I'll be with him, Marlow, and that's the way I want it. If you're gonna do anything, Adrian, you better get it over with fast. That siren's a friend of mine. He's coming here. Adrian! Coming, Steve. You're a good guy, Marlow, and a smart one. Just don't follow us, that's all. So long, Marlow. Happy New Year! Marlow! Marlow, that car just pulled out of here. Who was it? Steve Doyle and Adrian Starr, Eborah. That road makes a horseshoe turn. That'll bring them out down below us there, at that junction. I've got one of those streets blocked, but the other one's wide open. Look, Eborah, there they are. She's stopping at the crossroad. Yeah, they've spotted my men down there. She's turning around. They're heading out the other way. She must be crazy, Marlow. They'll never make that curve at that speed. They're not slowing down, Eborah. She's heading straight for that stone wall. Well, Steve, that's it. It's all over. They're both dead when the boys got to them. Killed instantly. By the way, how's your head feeling now? Any better? I'm okay, Eborah. Did you take care of Nancy Marshall all right? Yeah, she locked herself upstairs. Sent her home to Paul Reicher in the squad car. The driver hurries. They can still be married on New Year's Eve. You know, the pegged as Jerry Graff's killer earlier tonight, Marlow, what made you change your mind? Well, I found a gold buckle near Graff's body, Eborah. I figured it was a fancy little belt buckle that Nancy had dropped. But I saw exactly the same buckle when I was coming to after Doyle hit me on the head. And it wasn't on a belt. It was on a shoe. Adrian's shoe. It was a mate to the one I'd found. Once you know Adrian Starr killed Graff, you put the rest of it together, is that it? Uh-huh. See, for a price, Graff helped Adrian double-cross Steve. She had to kill him to keep him from talking. She hit Nancy out for the same reason. If she knew that if Steve ever got to Nancy, he'd learn the truth. I wonder why she didn't kill Nancy, too. I think she intended to, Eborah. And she did it all, really, because she loved that guy too much. Strange deal, Marlow, right to the end. You know, she didn't have a chance to make that curve down the other way she was driving. Not even if she wanted to make it, Eborah. Yeah. Well, it's five minutes to midnight, Phil. Happy New Year, fella. I want to see a lot of you in 1949. Same to you, Lieutenant. Good night. After Eborah and the others left, I stayed up on Lookout Mountain and watched the New Year come to Los Angeles. A new year. Didn't seem to change things much, at least on the surface. Somewhere down the road, a gang struck up Old Lang Syne. I thought again of Adrian Starr, a girl who loved not wisely, who had called herself an old acquaintance. Yeah, I'd never forget her. As I walked back to my car, the city was ringing out the old and ringing in the new. And I wished then that someplace on everybody's list of resolutions, they'd make room for that cup of kindness they were singing about. And then a guy could say, Happy New Year. I mean it. The Adventures of Philip Marlowe, created by Raymond Chandler, stars Gerald Moore and is produced and directed by Norman MacDonald. Script is by Mel Dinelli, Robert Mitchell, and Gene Leavitt. Featured in the cast were Gloria Blondell, Edgar Berrier, David Ellis, Lou Krugman, and Stan Waxman. Lieutenant Eborah was played by Jeff Corey. The special music was by Richard Aront. Be sure and be with us again next week when Philip Marlowe says... They all knew he was aboard the yacht when it exploded and sank. And everybody called his death an accident. Yeah, that is everybody except the corpse himself. He said it was murder. An hour of wonderful delirious comedy is still to come to you tonight on CBS. You'll soon hear Hollywood's Eve Arden starring as the unusual school mistress, our Miss Brooks. Later, Lumet Abner will open the doors of the Jottam Down store in Pine Ridge, Arkansas and let you stock up on the last from their never failing supply of wisdom and good humor. Our Miss Brooks, starring Eve Arden, is heard at 9.30 and Lumet Abner at 10 o'clock, both Eastern Standard Time, over most of these same CBS network stations. This is Roy Rowan speaking for CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
