Stand by for crime. Hi, Chuck Morgan, KOP newscaster speaking. The other day while shooting a round of golf with my friend Lieutenant Bill Meggs of police headquarters, I learned something that surprised me and I'm sure will surprise you as well. That is that the mafia, or black hand, is still actively operating in this and other countries. You know the mafia originated in Sicily several hundred years ago. It was originally designed to protect the common people against the tyranny of landowners and royalty. But today, members of the mafia are a bunch of gangsters, thugs, murderers and lesser criminals who use it to further their own ends. The most effective weapon they have is fear, instilling fear in the hearts of their victims. Well, the story I'd like to tell you about tonight is a good example of how the mafia works. Carol Curtis, my blonde secretary, and I were having dinner at Nicodell's following my seven o'clock broadcast and were wondering what kind of a feature yarn I could use on the eleven o'clock show. How about those two jokers who think they're going to race their hot rods up Mount Wilson? Maybe you could build that into something. They're both war veterans and... Chuck? Hmm? Oh, what were you saying, Gramapuss? What was I saying, Gramapuss? For heaven's sakes, why can't you pay attention when I beat my brains out trying to... What in the world are you staring at? That man talking to Nic. I think he wants to see me. Yeah, yeah. Nic just pointed this way and he's coming over. He looks scared to death. Do you know him? No, total stranger. There's something wrong with him, that's for sure. Oh, hey, uh, you're Mr. Chuck Morgan? Yeah, that's right. I'm Morgan. Can I talk to you a minute? Sure, sure. Sit down. Alone? Oh, pardon me. Sit still, Gramapuss. This is my secretary, Carol Curtis. She's harmless. Thanks, Pat. I'm sorry, Miss Curtis. I didn't mean to be rude. Sit down, sit down. Tell us what's on your mind. Oh, yes, well, thank you. My name's Frank Dawson. You've never heard of me. I'm just an ordinary person, a clothing store clerk. What's on your mind, Frank? Well, uh, well, it's taken me a long time to work up enough courage to tell somebody this. You see, I'm a very frightened man. That's easy to see. Is it as obvious as that? I try to cover it up, but it's no use. You sound like a man whose conscience has been bothering you and you can't take it any longer. Yes, yes, that's it exactly. You see, four nights ago, I witnessed a murder. I saw Elmer Hatfield shot to death. Elmer Hatfield? Well, he's the councilman who was murdered for cracking down on rackets around town. Yeah, and the police have been on a sweat trying to find out who did it. Did you recognize the man who fired the shots, Frank? No, but I recognized the man who was driving the getaway car. Who was that? Jack Stone. Now we've got a real fine situation. Jack Stone out of the gambling syndicate, huh? Well, that's a logical suspect for the killer of the man who was trying to undermine his gravy train. You must have a good reason for not going to the police with this information. Yes, I have a good reason, Miss Curtis, a very good reason. And it's here on this card. Dawson reached into his pocket, took out a small white card, and laid it face up on the table. There was nothing on the card except for the imprint of a black hand. If Bill Meggs hadn't told me that story about the Mafia or black hand, I would have thought this was some corny routine being played by a practical joker. Bill had told me the story and had showed me facts and figures. And here was this Frank Dawson looking dead serious and scared to death. And there was that white square of card with the imprint of the black hand on it lying between us on the table. Well, that's nothing but a picture of a black hand. Does it mean something? It means plenty, Glamour Bus. Haven't you ever heard of the Mafia? No. Have you? Certainly. When? Last week. Oh, last week? Well, how about that? Acting as though you'd known about it all your life. Well, my goodness. That's enough, Glamour Bus. So that's why you haven't gone to the police, eh, Mr. Dawson? You're afraid of what will happen to you if you do. Telephone call for Scrappy Lambert. Well, not what will happen to me. I think I could take it. But I have a wife and two kids. And I'd do anything to protect them. Even if it's refusing to do your duty as a citizen? My first duty is to my family, Mr. Morgan. Yeah, same old story. Same old run around. It always works. Well, what do you expect Chuck to do, Mr. Dawson? And if he does it, won't you be endangering your family as much as though you told the police? Well, I... I hope that... well, that... That I wouldn't let it be known you told me, huh? That somehow I'd have Jack Stone arrested and charged with Hatfield's murder without bringing your name into it. Just how do you expect me to do that? You're the only witness to the crime. The police haven't got enough evidence to arrest Stone in suspicion, let alone to convict him. No, I'm afraid without you to testify, Frank, it's a dead issue. I can't, and I won't. They'll take my little girl. They told me they would. Who told you? The man who gave me the card. I didn't know that they'd even seen me. When I heard the shots and saw what was happening, I ducked into a doorway. Then the man who had done the shooting came running out of an alley and jumped into the car that Jack Stone was driving. They roared away, and then the other people in the cars appeared, and all I could think of was to get out of there and go home. And so I started running most of the way. I was almost there when a car came up behind me and... Hey, you! Hold it! Were you calling me? Yeah, I was calling you. What's your name? Well, I don't know why I have to answer that. Don't! What's your name? Frank Dawson. Where do you live? Get... Come on, talk! Two houses down the street, but don't hit me again. And talk pretty. Where'd you come from just now? From work. I'm a clothing store clerk. The store stays open Friday nights. Yeah? Where is this store located? It's on the corner of Melrose and Catherine. Melrose and Catherine, huh? Then you must have walked down Catherine to get here, that right? Yes, that's right. You're the guy, all right? What'd you see in that alley? I didn't see anything. You... What'd you see? Nothing! I didn't see a thing! What'd you see? Nothing! I didn't see... What'd you see? Don't. Don't hit me again. And talk. I saw the shooting. That's better. You're getting a kid, Dawson? Yes. Two. No kidding. Kind of make you feel bad if anything happened to him, wouldn't it? Oh, no. No, you can't. You mustn't. My kids didn't do anything. You can do what you want to me, but don't touch my kids. I thought so. You and your old lady would be kind of put out if one of those kids should disappear and you never saw him again, wouldn't you? Why, you... Not so fast! Just take it easy or I'll break you in two. You want some more? My kids! Nothing will happen to your kids if you're smart. Now, let's have a little rehearsal. What'd you see tonight? I saw the shooting. You saw what? Nothing. I didn't see anything. That's better. Just remember, you didn't see nothing. Not a thing. You didn't even come home that way. You walked down another street. Get it? All right. I walked down another street. And don't forget it. You walked down another street and you didn't see nothing. Remember, nothing will happen to your kids. Forget it and one of them will be dead. You get that straight? Yes. I understand. Good. And just so you won't have a lapse of memory, here's something to keep it... What did this character look like, Farah? He was a big man with sandy hair and a kind of a flat nose. He must have weighed well over 200. That'd be Doc Zerby, Jack Stone's first lieutenant. Was Stone in the car? No. Zerby must have dropped Stone and then cruised around until he saw a lone man hurrying home. In another two minutes I would have been safe. How about the card with the black hand on it? When did he give you that? I found it in my jacket pocket after I got home. I don't know how long I lay there on the sidewalk. When I came to, the man in the car was gone. Somehow I reached the house and I got inside without Sue and the kids seeing me. I went up to the bathroom. I wanted to clean up as best I could. I found the card when I took off my jacket. Did you tell your wife what had happened? No. I was afraid she might call the police. But how did you explain the bruises on your face? Oh, I told her I got into a fight at the store. And she believed you? No, but Sue's pretty understanding. She knows something is wrong. She's just waiting for me to tell her. Telephone call for Mr. Frank Dawson. Ill side number. That telephone calls for you, Mr. Dawson. For me? Why, nobody knows I'm here. Somebody does. You better answer. Oh, yes I better. Excuse me a moment, please. So Dawson went off to answer the telephone. And I had an uneasy feeling that the message he was about to receive wasn't going to be good. He thought that no one knew he was here. So what did that mean? It meant that he'd been watched ever since the night of the murder. Just in case he was foolish enough to think he could get away with telling his story to the police or someone else. So Carol and I waited. And both of us were thinking the same thing. We knew the minute Frank Dawson returned to the table, the worst would happen. Dawson was wild-eyed and his mouth was trembling. They've taken little Sue. They've kidnapped her. They told me that unless you promise to forget everything I told you, that I'd never see her again. Sit down, Dawson. You're attracting attention. They've taken Sue. Don't you understand what that means? I was a fool. Sit down. Get hold of yourself. We'll get your young girl back. You won't go to the police, though, will you, Mr. Morgan? They'll kill her if you do. Promise me you won't. Not while they have Sue, I won't. Chuck, this is terrible. What if you don't tell the police? That isn't going to get Mr. Dawson's little girl back. And when Mrs. Dawson finds out that Sue is missing, she isn't going to keep quiet. I know. You're right, Clamacus. Whatever we do, we have to work fast. Frank, do you think you can keep your wife from reporting Sue's disappearance for 24 hours? Well, I don't know. I'll have to make up some story about taking Sue to see her grandmother or something. I don't know. You'd better think up a story and sell it to your wife if you ever want to see your youngster again. But Chuck, 24 hours is so short a time. You can't possibly do anything. Maybe no, maybe yes. Every man has a weakness, no matter how tough or cold-blooded he is. If my memory serves me right, Jack Stone's weakness is a nightclub singer named Bubbles Dearing. Do you mean that redhead at the silver slipper? Yeah, that's the one. She's Jack's girl and he's nuts about her. Wonder how he'd feel if she were kidnapped. Oh, Chuck, for heaven's sakes. You're not thinking of kidnapping a full-grown woman. No, not kidnapping. I have something else in mind. Clamacus, by the way, you wouldn't mind if I made a couple passes of bubbles, would you? Made a couple of... you wouldn't dare. Chuck Morgan, if you ever dream of making... All right, Clamacus, okay, take it easy. This is strictly business. Strictly business. You're just using it as an excuse. That dizzy redhead. If she ever got her clothes on, you should... Shut up. What? I said shut up. A child's life is being threatened and you're carrying on like a schoolgirl. Are you going to be sensible or am I going to have to knock you over the head with this water pitcher? All right, I'm sorry. But Chuck... Yeah? You won't... you won't... you wouldn't. Only if it's absolutely necessary will I ask bubbles for her autograph, Clamacus. Now, the conclusion of Stand By for Crime. I haven't any illusions about my personal charm, but as a news reporter, it's my business to know all I can about what goes on in the underworld. The story about Jack Stone and his girl, Bubbles Deering, was common gossip. He'd imported her from New York about a year ago. And she hadn't been working at the Silver Slipper a month before he let it become known that Bubbles was his private property. A couple guys had argued the point, but now they're in no position to argue or do anything else. So Jack Stone's chain of armor developed a weak link, huh? Well, if it was weak as I hoped, I might be able to cash in on it. So I sent Carol back to KOP with instructions to have a sub do my 11 o'clock broadcast if I didn't show up. And then drove out to the Strip where the Silver Slipper was located. I cut the tail end of the first floor show, which featured Bubbles doing her song and dance routine. And sitting alone on the edge of the dance floor, I did my best to let her know her act was being appreciated. And the feeling she was aware of my presence. Afterward I went backstage and found a door with a star on it. Yeah, who is it? Hello, Bubbles. What? Hey, what are you doing here? I just thought I'd drop around and tell you how much I enjoyed your act. Yeah? Well, now you told me to get out. Wait a minute, I've got a proposition to make. I ain't interested in no proposition. Hey, does Jack know you're here? Jack? Who? Jack Stone, the guy who owns this place. Ain't you never heard of him? Now that you mention his name, I guess I have. You better have. The last guy who came prancing in here is dead. It's like that, huh? Yeah, yeah, it's like that. Now if you're smart, you'll beat it. Well, I appreciate the warning, but first I've got to state my proposition. How about coming to work up in San Francisco for me and twice your present salary? Say, who are you? My name's Jones, Bill Jones. I own the high tide club in San Francisco. Never heard of it. Ever been to San Francisco? No. That explains it. Okay, so all right. I ain't been around. And I ain't interested in getting around. What's the matter, Bubbles? Scared? Scared me? Ha! What? Jack Stone. Jack Stone? Ha ha. It's a laugh. Hey, listen, Buster, I got news for you. I'm Jack Stone's girl. He's in love with me, see? Are you in love with him, Bubbles? Or do you just hang around here because you're scared of what will happen if you leave? I ain't scared of nothing. I tell you nothing. How do you like being someone's personal property, Bubbles? Not being able to even talk to another man. Only going out when Jack Stone says so. And then only to the places he chooses. You can't call yourself your own, can you, Bubbles? Ah, you're crazy. You're talking yourself right into a dose of lead poisoning. Pretty damn routine for a girl as young and pretty as yourself. What you need is freedom to move around without the knowledge that you're being spied on, without being afraid all the time. Yeah? You think I'll get that freedom in San Francisco? Jack's got connections up there, too. Not as good as mine. Stone may be a big shot down here, but up there he's small fry. You mean I wouldn't have to go around looking over my shoulder all the time? You mean I'd have protection? Plenty. He'd be as free as a breezes. Oh, I don't know. That guy's got me pegged. He'd follow me no matter where I went. He'd kill me, he said so. Eh, no, I ain't taking the risk. You better think it over, Bubbles. It's probably the only chance you'll have to get out of this trap. Trap? Yeah, that's it. I'm trapped in this stinking club till Jack Stone gets tired of me and throws me aside. I can't go no place. I can't talk to nobody but Jack Stone and a couple of old biddies who wait on me. I hate it. Of course you do, Bubbles. Any normal girl would. Now up in San Francisco you'd be... How am I going to get up there? How am I going to get out of here? Look, he's got guys watching me all the time. Yeah? Well, then they're pretty lax. No one saw me coming in here. Now look, there's a plane for the north leaving Burbank in an hour. That'll give you time to go home and pack and get over to Lockheed. I'll meet you in the St. Francis Hotel tomorrow afternoon at 3 o'clock. Yeah, and well, suppose one of Jack's boys asks me where I'm going. Jack's out of town in San Diego. I checked that before coming in here. If anyone asks you questions, tell them you had a phone call from him. He wants you to join him in San Diego. Yeah. Hey, yeah, you know what's my work at that? Sure. Well, it just might. Hey, Jonesy, you made yourself a deal. Well, see you at the St. Francis tomorrow. Well, maybe this would work and maybe it wouldn't. Anyway, it was the best I could think of at the moment. I went outside, crossed Sunset, and got into my jalopy, which was parked on the other side. After a while, bubbles came out of the alley that led to the stage door of the Silver Slipper and got into a cab. The cab started west. A sedan pulled away from the curb and followed. I made a U-turn and followed the sedan. Both cab and sedan turned left on Doheny, then made a right turn. The cab stopped in front of an apartment house and bubbles went inside. The sedan parked about a half a block up the street. I parked about 50 yards this side. A light came on in the upstairs apartment window. I caught a glimpse of bubbles as she came over to draw the shade. Fifteen minutes later, the light went out. I got out and strolled up toward the sedan. Reaching it, just as bubbles came from the apartment house and headed for the cab, the guy in the sedan started to get out. Hello there. You got a match? Huh? Oh, oh yeah, sure. Yeah. Wait a minute. Oh yeah? These won't work. They're wet. They probably got that way from the clam who's been holding them. Hey, what is this? Let go of my arm. Sure, man. There you are. Now here's something else. Well, so far so good. Bubbles was on her way up north and no one knew where she was going but me. I went back to KLP and found Frank Dawson in the waiting room of my office with Carol. Any luck, Chuck? Yeah, I'm doing all right, I think. Did bubbles fall for that winning smile of yours? Never mind that. Go find Pappy and tell him to put on a sub for my 11 o'clock show. Well, where are you going to be at 11 o'clock? At the Silver Slipper picking up Sue. I get going. And remember both of you, not a word to anyone, not even Pappy. It would ruin everything. So I went into my private office and called Lockheed Airport and Burbank and asked if flight 183 had gotten off all right. They said it was just leaving the ground. So that was that. The gorgeous Bubbles was out of reach for at least an hour and three quarters. So then I began dialing the Silver Slipper. Silver Slipper? I want to talk to Doc Zerby. This is Zerby. Who's calling? Chuck Morgan, KLP newscaster. Oh yeah? What's on your mind, Morgan? Going to give us a little publicity for a change? Yeah, that's exactly what I have in mind, Doc. I don't suppose you have a guest over there named Sue Dawson. Never heard of her. Why? Is she somebody important? Yeah, yeah, she is. You know, we have a guest over here named Bubbles Deering. Thought you might like to know. What the devil are you talking about? Just what you think, Doc. Shall we make a deal? You're nuts. Bubbles is on the floor right now doing her turn. Is that so? Well, suppose you take a look and see. Hang on. Sure. So Doc took a look. I could hear a door bang and loud voices at the other end of the wire. Then Doc was back on the phone again. Morgan, you dirty rat, if you snatch that babe, you'll get a bullet through your head. You know that, don't you? And if Bubbles isn't at the Silver Slipper when Stone gets back from Dago, you'll get a bullet through your head. You know that, don't you, Doc? What's the deal? Bring the kid to that office where you are right now. I'll be over and pick her up in 15 minutes. What about Bubbles? The Silver Slipper's safe at home. I'll give you a ring and tell you where Bubbles is. How do I know it won't be a double crush? You don't. But the way I look at it, you haven't got much choice in the matter, have you, Doc? Eh. Okay. Be here in 15 minutes. We'll have the kid. I knew what Doc was thinking. He was thinking he'd snatch one of Dawson's kids any time, but he couldn't get Bubbles back any time, and he wasn't hankering for a hole in the head. So I told Carol and Frank Dawson to sit tight, and I drove off to the Silver Slipper again. The second show of the evening was over, and the handkerchief-sized dance floor was mobbed. I wandered around until I found a door that looked as though it might lead to an office. It did. Inside, Doc Zerby and a couple of his strong-armed boys were sprawled out in chairs. There wasn't any youngster in evidence, and I didn't like the sneering expression on Doc Zerby's face. I started to say something, and just then, a door across the room opened, and Bubbles Deering walked in. Well, there wasn't much time to figure out a plan of action. One thing I was doggone sure of, Bubbles wasn't on their plane to San Francisco, and that meant I was a dead duck. Doc Zerby started to speak, and one of his boys reached toward his gun. I put my hand behind me, jerked open the door, and jumped backwards, banging it shut. But instead of trying to lose myself in the crowded room, I flattened against the wall behind the door. The door banged open, and Zerby, his two boys, and Bubbles came pouring out. I jumped inside the office again, slammed the door, and locked it. Then I sped up to the door through which Bubbles had entered, found myself in another room, and also found myself staring down at the tear-stained face of Susie Dawson. There was a window that opened onto an alley. I threw a chair over it, picked up Susie, and dropped into the alley. Just as the rear door of the club opened, and Zerby and his boys came out, they started for me, and I started for Sunset Boulevard holding Susie. A couple of bullets passed too close to comfort, then someone was yelling, Chuck, Chuck, this way! It was Glamourpus. She was getting out of a squad car that had just pulled up to the curb. Bill Meggs and a bunch of cops and Frank Dawson were all on the sidewalk. I was within ten feet of them when, of course, I had to stumble. I went down and cracked my head on the pavement trying to keep Susie from getting hurt. That was the last I knew for quite a while. When I came to, I was in the back seat of the squad car, my head on Carol's lap. A cop was driving. Oh, what, what the... Hi, Chuckie Boy. I thought I told you to stay back at the office. Aren't you glad I didn't? No. I, I mean, yes. How'd you know where I was? Well, you told me, remember? Besides that, I listened in on the extension phone to your conversation with Doc Zerby. Oh, you did? Yeah. And that's how I knew Susie would be at the Silver Slipper, and it would be all right to tell the police. I wonder why I didn't think of that. Because you're honest, Chuckie Boy. You made a deal with Doc and you intended to keep it. You're honest and good and fine... Shut up. Where's Susie? She went home with her father. Where's Doc and his boys? In jail. Where's Bill Meggs? He went to the airport to meet Jack Stone. Where's Bubbles? Oh, she's gone somewhere to make reservations on a plane for San Francisco tomorrow. She said every seat was taken on flight 183. She says she has to be at the St. Francis Hotel tomorrow to meet a man named Jones. Oh, no. Mm-hmm. That's what she said. That reminds me. What? I have to be in San Francisco tomorrow myself. A very important date at the St. Francis Hotel.
