Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker's road and those who travel it wind up in the gutter of the prison of the grave. This started with a wreck and went from there to double murder over 75,000 bucks worth of glitter that nobody got in the end. Because I found out just in time what was fishy about the tale of the mermaid. From the pen of Raymond Chandler, outstanding author of crime fiction, comes his most famous character in The Adventures of Philip Marlowe. Now with Gerald Moore starred as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's exciting story, The Tale of the Mermaid. In the early 1930s, I was still in my office, tucking in the loose ends on a report, while I listened with half an ear to the fabric of city sounds rising from the street below. Fabric ripped suddenly by tires clawing concrete. A shattering crash that followed brought me to my feet. It was a traffic accident, a bad one. I ran to the window, but it had happened around the corner out of sight from my office. So I watched others run for it and remembered grimly that every 30 seconds, somewhere in the country, a thing like that happened. And one out of every 16 minutes was fatal. I wondered who had been chewed up in a chromium meat grinder this time as I listened to first the police, then the emergency ambulance and finally the scavenger truck cleaned the wreck off the street. After that, I went back to my report again and tried to forget about it. But an hour later that same accident came back into my office. Mr. Marlowe? Yeah? This is Corey Riggs. Uh, yes, Ms. Riggs? I'm a nurse at the Warwick Emergency Hospital. About an hour ago, a man named Stanley Ott was brought in and he's been calling for you. For me? He was badly injured in an automobile accident on Coengan. It's way to your office. Wait a minute, who did you say this one? I'm the nurse assigned to Mr. Ott at the hospital. I just got off duty and I had to wait until I was relieved before I could call you. I see. Well, look, Ms. Riggs, I'd like to help in any way I can, but it's not until... Mr. Marlowe, Mr. Ott gave me $250 and told me to call you. Yeah, I know, but you... And he said that I should give you $200 and keep the 50 for myself. Oh, fine. Now I get clients by proxy. I beg your pardon? Nothing. I'll be right over, Ms. Riggs. I didn't know anyone named Stanley Ott and I felt a little like an ambulance chaser, but I was only 15 minutes from getting to the emergency hospital. As I walked up the ambulance a smart-looking brunette came toward me. Mr. Marlowe? I'm Corrie Riggs, the nurse who called. Oh, hello. Can I see him now? It wouldn't do any good. You see, he went into a coma a few minutes after I called. Oh, too late, is that it? Let's move away from the door, shall we? Sure. You see, Mr. Marlowe, before he went into the coma, Ott wasn't rational. He was raving. About what sort of thing? About you and a girl. Oh? As near as I could make out, she's supposed to meet someone tonight at 2 o'clock and collect $75,000. That's quite an assignment. Who's the girl? I don't know. All Ott said was something about a plaid coat as identification. Plaid coat, huh? Any idea what he wanted me to do? Chaperone, maybe? No, he kept pleading, stop her, stop her, she can't do it. So I'm sure that he wanted you to prevent this girl from keeping that appointment. For some reason, it seems absolutely imperative to him. Where was this 2 o'clock meeting supposed to take place? I have no idea. Oh, fine. So it boils down to this. A girl we don't know and a plaid coat is meeting someone we don't know at a place we don't know at 2 a.m. The man who wants me to prevent it is in a coma and can't talk. Did he say anything else, Miss Riggs? He just kept saying, you've got to help me, Marlowe, it's life and death. You know, we can stir up an awful hornet's nest poking our noses into $75,000 worth of business we know nothing about. I doubt that we can do any good anyway, because we don't have enough to go on. He said anything else to even point to the right- Oh, Marlowe. What? Wait a minute. He mumbled something once about a... Constantine. Constantine? Yes, at some pier. What is it, a boat? I don't know, but at least it's a lead, isn't it? Hmm. Anything else? No. Okay, where can I reach you? I'll be at my quarters, Crestview 5781. And keep track of Stanley Art's condition, will you? If he comes out of it, talk to him. He's only got three short hours. I'll call you, Corey. I felt a little weird as I left the hospital because I was traveling on strictly secondhand information as to what had gone on in a delirious mind. But in spite of that, there was still enough coherence in what Corey Riggs told me to make a case. My first stop was a phone booth and a call to the police, where I found out from the accident reports that Stanley Art was 30, unmarried, small-time lawyer and an L.A. resident with a clean police record. My next call was the harbor master's office at San Pedro. Constantine? No. Don't remember no vessel by that name, son. Just a minute, I'll look her up in the registry. Let's see. Constan-a...Constan...Constantine. Only one listed is a four-basted schooner, a SunGolf pirate, point near Monterey in 1870. A little before my time. Not the one, eh? Not the one. So I tried the Coast Guard. No fishing boat called Constantine on this coast, mister. That was followed by a check of yacht harbor at Long Beach negative, and a call to the pleasure boat anchorage at Santa Monica. No, Constantine registered here, sir. After that, a long, futile reconnaissance of the waterfront from one end to the other. It left me one solid hour later out at the end of a tottering, almost abandoned concessions pier in Venice. Swearing in blind frustration at the black, seething ocean below, I was licked. You ain't thinking of jumping in, are you, pal? You look like you lost your best friend. I did, Buster. Me. I was sunk with a Constantine in 1870. Constantine? You know him, too, eh? Him? You mean Constantine's a guy? Sure, pal. There's a shack there. Wait till the beacon light comes around again. See? See that? Well, I'll be. Prince Constantine Chevnov. Arcosis, promised, a medium, personal consultant by appointment only. Yeah, but that's a fake. No, fool. All them guys, he knows everybody around. Even the Dziigy, me. For one buck, and that's something. But he's a genuine Russian prince. Hey. Hey, where you going? Have a look. Prince Constantine Chevnov could be my boy. He wouldn't want you nosing around here, pal. That's too bad. Does he live here? Yeah, in the back. He runs his pitch in the front way where all them green curtains are. I suppose he always leaves his door unlocked, huh? Why? With the wooden wall? Hey, that's kind of funny. Yeah, yeah, I'll bet. There'll be a light switch here sometime. Oh, yeah. Now let's see what... Oh. Holy cat. Good-bye, mister. Good-bye. As the little warfart darted through the door and scampered away into the darkness, I went over to the body, face up on the cheap gaudy carpet of the seance room. It was about 35 in a substantial gray business suit stained red in front where the bullets had gone in. His wallet was missing. There was no other identification on him. His gray snap-brim hat was spilled a few feet away, so I picked it up to look for initials and found instead a small file card stuck into the sweatband. Typed at the top was the heading, the mermaid. Owner Otis Van Owen, only relative Evelyn Van Owen, niece. Mermaid stolen November 12, 1948. Insurance paid in full. In ink, Van Owen died August 1949, and under that in pencil, Constantine Chevnev, Venice Pier, and Louis Paradise. 913 Seacrest Road, Pacific Palisades. It took 20 minutes to find 913 Seacrest. And when I stopped and got close enough with what I saw through an open window made Constantine trap, I just let. Look at what a libel is a post office by comparison. There's a miniature Egyptian temple exotic and dainty sickening lushness of red velvet and yellow silk. And in the center of the room was a bloated little man balancing a long cigarette holder in one hand, while he sipped it into a honey-colored French phone in the other. I moved up quietly until I could hear him. A sentimental agreement. That is right, Evelyn. Your Uncle Otis and I were the best of friends for years. Well, thank you, child. Where are you now? Oh, in the server toilet. Good, good. I advise you to stay there until the few minutes before two, and you will not forget to wear a plaid coat, just to be sure I won't make you the same. What is it, bud? What? Sideshow? Careful now. A sudden noise is like a gun going off a step, Mr. Kiddes. What do you find so interesting inside? Conversation. About the mermaid, probably. Uh-oh. I'm glad you dropped that one, bud, because I'd bump you for a nickel to pay nothing to 75G. I don't talk things over with punks. I reserve it for the head man. Go do something about it. Okay, bud, I will. Go on, move. We're under the dawn inside. If the paradise gets some kind of kick out of stepping on big guys like you... The gopher face shoved his automatic into the small of my back and marched me inside, where the air was thick with cheap incense. The bloated little king with a long cigarette holder had stepped out, but he came back fast when the gopher called him. He stared at me from across the room and his nostrils flared for an instant, and he sent it again inside and told me. The gopher dug at my spine with his gun. Well now, what is this, Rudy? Snooper, Mr. Paradise, caught him outside peeking in the window. Oh, it is a bad night for Snooper. Who are you? Name's Marlow. And the business? Snooping. He knows about the Mermaid, Mr. Paradise. He does, does he? How much do you know? Speak up. He's got a fishtail instead of legs. You dare to joke? Don't you! Stand here and take a big man you ask for. Make a move and I'll drop you. I know what you are, Marlow, but not how much you have found out. Now tell me, because the next time I slap you, it will carry more weight than my bare hand, I promise. You have company, Paradise. No, you keep this baboon under control, Rudy. I will answer the door. Oh, Prince, come in. Paradise, Paradise, what do you mean? How far do you think you can go with my reputation? Do you want to get me hanged? Why, what is the matter, Constantine? You are upset. Upset? I'm out of my mind. Oh, what a shock. And such a stupid thing for you to do. What are you raving about? He found that body on his front room floor, right, Constantine? Exactly, precisely. And what is more, I did not put it there. Well, all the places in the world, why did you pick this one? Paradise, who is this, this stranger here? If you would close your mouth and open your eyes more often, Prince Constantine, you would not be the nervous wreck you are. This is Mr. Marlow, another snoop-up. Another one, Paradise. But I'd like you to listen to me. It's better if we quit. It's better if we don't try it tonight. It's out of hand. I don't like it now. We should get away and come back next year and do it. Ah, you jellyfish, there is nothing to worry about now. Insurance investigators often work in pairs. Is that not so, Marlow? You're a pitch-round man. You don't need any help from me. You are so right. Rudy and I caught the first at your place, Constantine. Now we have the second one, here. That is all there are. The danger is over. It's clear ceiling for the Lord. But what about that cadaver you had here, audacity to leave lying in my cell? Oh, forgive me, Constantine. That was a necessity. I am sorry. Now listen. Hey, Rudy, does this go on all the time? Yeah. Ain't it awful? And think of all the champagne, caviar, bouffalard, stroganoff you can buy with the mermaid. I don't care. Just a bracelet, but at the same time it is $75,000 worth of diamonds and platinum. Oh, da-da. Oh, okay, Paradise. I trust you. Now, we go, huh? My, uh, gnastro. My gnastro. Yes, it is. The gnastro it is. Hey, Mr. Paradise. Yes? What should I do with the big boy here? Yeah, you're kind of leaving a loose end around, aren't you, Fetty? If I had the time, Marlow, I would beat the arrogance out of you a little chunk at a time. Rudy. Yeah? You've got no initiative, but you do have imagination. So use it. Goodbye, Marlow. In just a moment, the second act of Philip Marlow. But first, it's a big break in entertainment for you and a big break in a career for some talented youngsters when Horace Heights' Original Youth Opportunity Program opens the door to fame and fortune every Sunday evening on CBS. Popular Horace Heights is host to young folks who want to break into show business. And every Sunday evening, one lucky winner does break in to his delight and your listening pleasure. Yes, for music, comedy, thrills, and all-around fun, listen to Horace Heights Sunday Evenings, another great CBS show heard over most of these same stations. Tune in, tune in this fall for the shows that you love best of all. Listen carefully, here's the address, it's CBS, CBS. Now with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlow and tonight's story, The Tale of the Mermaid. The lowly paradise hesitated at the door, snarled at the suggestion that this henchman used his imagination in disposing of me, and left in a lockstep with a white Russian screwball, I got the point. But even if I'd missed it entirely, one look and the brother Rudy's eyes would have done the trick. There were no pupils, just slits of lethal viciousness, windows to his warped little mind where I could practically see the montage going on. It ran from ancient thumb screws by candlelight up to a generous beating by street lamp with brass nooks. I felt a cold knot grow in the pit of my stomach as Rudy with a cannon in his hand pointed as my head started toward me. And from someplace outside I got a break. Two romantic cats, Rudy spun toward the sound. One chance to our customer Rudy and you missed. I'll kill you my lord, I'll blow your head off. Not tonight gentle soul, give it to me at once you hurt yourself until we've had a chance to talk. That's it. Now lie down. I know there was some reason why I like cats their voices. Okay Rudy, you've had enough rest, now let's get back to business. Now wait a minute. Come on, get up, we're gonna talk. Wait, hold it please. No reason for any more rough stuff. I'll come up, wait. That's better. Where did Paradise and the Highness head for? The Ganazdo, where is it? I don't know. You said there was no reason for rough stuff, remember? Yeah, yeah I remember. That Ganazdo, that's something I never heard of. Unhappy coincidence Rudy, it's one thing I'm interested in. Yeah wait, must be something else you want to know. Something else I could tell you the day. Hey, hey what are you gonna do? You mean you can't tell Rudy? That's funny. All it takes is a little imagination. It was Rudy out of the way I started through the place looking for all important answer to what was the Ganazdo. The 20 minutes of turning drawers and closets inside out revealed nothing more exciting than Louis Paradise's address book, first names only. And a picture of a girl named Toodles who belonged to the roaring 20s and by this time should have caught a death of cold. Her sister no doubt. But no lead on the Ganazdo. So on the slim chance that my client Stanley Ott might already be back in this world and able to help, I got outside into my car and drove to the first drug store where after checking the phone books under everything from bars to bath houses for a Ganazdo and getting no place, I called Corey Riggs at the nurses home. No Marlo, Stanley Ott's still unconscious. I just talked to the night nurse on his floor, they expect him to come out of it soon. Why, what happened? Too much to explain now Corey, but that girl, the one in the plaid coat? I found out that her name's Evelyn Van Owen and she's staying at the Surf Hotel. Now see if that much checks with Ott when it comes to it, will you? Oh also, there's a diamond studded item called the mermaid which accounts for that 75,000 he mentioned. Now Constantine and the pier now equal a phony Russian prince who runs a spook palace out on the old Venice Pier. Now you got all that? Good. Now look honey, listen real hard. Before Ott passed out, did he by any chance say the word Ganazdo? Ganazdo? No, what does it mean? I don't know, I think it's the name of a place. Oh, have you checked the phone books? Yeah, yeah, no dice Corey. Also, I checked one Mr. Louie Paradise who you might mention. Marlowe, wait a minute, there's a girl here, one of the nurses, who's trying to tell me something. It's Ganazdo Marlowe, wait a minute, she knows something about it here. Rosemary, you talk to her. Hello? You want to know what Ganazdo means? Yeah. What does Russian mean? Well what does it mean in English, Rosemary? Fast, please, it's important. Well that means let's go to my place. Ganazdo is the word for nest, sort of like cozy apartment or cottage. My place, nest, you sure about that? One positive, I was an army nurse in the war and I spent two years in Germany after the shooting part was over. Two years, a half a block away from the Russian zone. That's close enough, thank the million Rosemary. I don't mention it, his Corey. Oh. That do it Marlowe? Yeah I think so, at any rate, unless I'm way off basis where both the mermaid and all parties concerned are going to rendezvous at 2 a.m. That's less than a half hour from now. The princess place on the pier. I want to be early so goodbye Corey, I'll call again when I know more. And give my everlasting love to girlfriend Rosemary, she all is show a peach. There was still a few parts missing the way they always are. As I drove past the old Venice Pier and headed as I went along, it came out something like a theme of paradise in Prince of Whatchamacallit, ready, willing and able to pay 75 grand for a piece of jewelry that one Evelyn Van Owen now owns. A mermaid, which according to the data I'd found on the insurance man's body had once been stolen from Evelyn's late uncle. But I left it there when my rear view mirror set a long gray sedan that had been tagging me discreetly for the last three blocks. Now being a delegate about it and closing fast. Driver was old pal Rudy and he became a breast. He headed for me. All right, all right, you're okay. You're okay, Mac. Don't you worry about a thing. We'll have you out of there in a minute. Hey, can't you knock up the horn? Knock out the horn. What do you think we're trying to do? It ain't so easy getting my hand past the street at hood. You know. Oh, that's better. Hey, hey, Cabby, what'd I hit? Well, in order at our appearance, Mac, your car into a telephone pole and then you went to your dashboard. Yeah, you're sure lucky you bounced off the curb first, Mr. I'll see. Loaded you down plenty. Oh, hey, here comes the ambulance. Look at the road. Not for me. I'm all right. Hey, come on, Cabby, help me out of this, will you? Sure, sure, that's what we're trying to do. But don't you worry, the ambulance ain't for you. But a guy that sideswiped you and then tried to get away. I seen what happened and I went after him in me cab. He turned into a dead end, no less, trying to shake me. It's me a mess. But I guess he'll live all right. Hey, what you got against you anyhow, Mac? Just my life. Listen, your cab still all right? Sure, there's someplace you gotta go. There is? The old Venice Concessions Pier, my friend, and the sooner the better. Come on. Maybe my head against the dashboard was exactly what I needed. Because right then and there, the method of Rudy's handiwork made me think of an angle that I neglected almost completely. My unconscious client had not wanted me to get the mermaid or the 75,000 bucks to stop Evelyn from keeping her rendezvous, which at this point I figured could mean but one thing. It was exactly two o'clock when the cab slams into a stop near the pier. And I piled out and ran onto the empty fog dampened planking that led to Prince Constancy in shack. Nothing but mist moved over the pier. No unusual sound broke the pattern of waterfront noises. But I thought momentarily that I was still in time to prevent what Stanley out somehow knew was going to happen. That Louis Paradise and his eccentric sidekick intended to get the mermaid from Evelyn to pay off in only one way. I ran to the rear of the shack on Stilson, got close to the half-open door where I could see and hear and found out just what I'd expected. And the storeroom spread out in very fill-in-the-oil silk planks that were a makeshift floor with a lifeless form. A girl, who according to the plaid coachy wall was the late Evelyn Van Orn. And kneeling close to a gun in one hand, the sparkling mermaid in the other, was her executioner, Louis Paradise. Next to him is number one boy, Prince Constantine Chebno, not very happy. A fool to shoot her was stupid. Yes, seventy-five grand stupid. Yes. Or would you have preferred that I pay Miss Van Orn in cash? I had to kill her. Yes, yes, yes, Paradise, but the gun, so much noise, we can't afford to attract attention. With two corpses on hand, I should say not, Prissy. Don't try it, Louis. Where you are! The mermaid, the space between the boards, the mermaid! It's in the water, Chebno. Shame. Yes, yes, it's a shame. We did so much, worked so hard. Yeah, killed so often. Gonna run for it, Your Highness? Run? No. No, Paradise is dead here. Without Paradise, I am not so brave. I will do as you say. Keep quiet, don't make a sound, Chebno, we've got company. Quiet! Pardon me, can you please tell me where Louis Paradise can be found? It's Louis Paradise there. Who are you? Evelyn Van Orn. What? Van Orn? A woman who was supposed to sell the mermaid to Paradise? That's right, but on my way over here, just after I left my hotel, somebody struck me, knocked me out. Took my, my coat there and my purse and ran. Your purse with the mermaid, no doubt. Yes. And that, Miss Van Orn, makes this angle shooter here. Yeah, the very dead nurse, Corey Riggs. Let's get out of here. Well, there's nothing to worry about, Miss Van Orn. Stanley's going to be all right. Oh, I'm so happy. Why is it women always cry when they're so happy? I don't know, but it's effective. Well, I'll run along now. Goodbye. Bye, Doc. You know, Mr. Marlow, when I was in Stanley's room with the doctor, Stan said he didn't lose control of his car at all when he had that accident in front of your place. He was run off the road by a- By a great sedan, I know, because I had the same treatment. One of Louis Paradise's henchmen, Rudy. Where's your car, honey? I'll walk you out. Just outside the front door. Tell me, did I tell you why Rudy roughed him up? Yes, in a way. You see, I told Stanley about the deal with the mermaid, and he thought it all sounded a little phony. I can't understand why. He's a lawyer, you know. Not a legal type mind. He said meeting anyone at two in the morning was ridiculous, so he investigated as much as he could because he was worried about me. We're engaged, you know. No, I never would have guessed. And he found out that Mr. Paradise was a fence, and Stan said that probably he never intended to give me the $75,000 for the mermaid at all. That they intended to kill me. Here we are. Tell me, why did you get in touch with Paradise in the first place? I was just following Uncle Otis's instructions. He gave me the mermaid when he was dying, and he told me if I wanted money to sell it only to a Mr. Paradise, but not to mention it to anyone. Your uncle faked a robbery, collected the insurance money, and then let you sell the mermaid to a fence, huh? It's lucky for you that Nurse Cory Riggs was clever. She put together just enough of Otis's gibberish to know that there was something good to be had, and then got me to unravel it for her. She got killed taking my place. When she tried to collect your $75,000. Yeah. Oh, here's my car. Well, Evelyn, it's a little wild. You were a rich woman. Now it's all gone. How do you feel? Well, I'm alive and in love. Yes, well that answers my question. Good night, baby, and good luck. Music When I left the hospital, I wandered back to the old Venice Pier in Prince Constantine's denazzo. It was five in the morning and the police had finished cleaning the place up. When the word had gotten out, a crowd had gathered. They always do. Curious, restless, sordid crowds equipped with everything from grappling hooks to homemade diving helmets, all climbing over each other for a chance to fish for the mermaid. She would brought death to three people, injury to two others in the course of one night. And suppose they found her. What then? A lot of glittering pieces of white coal set in a metal frame we call precious. Look at the sucker's grasp. That's all, Marlon. Home and to bed. Music The Adventures of Philip Marlowe, bringing you Raymond Chandler's most famous character, star Gerald Moore, and are produced and directed by Norman MacDonald. The rest is by Mel Donnelly, Robert Mitchell, and Gene Leavitt. Featured in the cast were Rita Lynn, John Danaer, Michael Ann Barrett, Wilms Herbert, Junius Matthews, Herb Bygren, and Mark Lauren. The special music is composed and conducted by Richard Oront. Be sure and be with us next week when Philip Marlowe says... It started with a terrified woman lost in a maze of memories she couldn't explain. And waiting for outside an open window was death. Music Another show has joined the CBS Sunday Night Parade. It's The Contented Hour, starring Buddy Clark and featuring the finest and popular and semi-classical music. It comes to you on most of these CBS stations for the first time tomorrow night, making its debut on CBS the same night as Red Skelton and Edgar Bergen and Charles McCarthy. Yes, this fall you'll hear them all on CBS. This is Paul Masterson speaking. Now stay tuned for Gangbusters, which follows immediately over most of these same CBS stations. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
