Stand by for crime. My name is Chuck Morgan and my job is doing newscasts on radio station KOP here in Los Angeles. You know, without realizing it, newscasters become pretty hard boiled about the frailties of human beings. It's because writing about them becomes part of the day's work. Crime is your stock in trade. You come to accept it as such without letting it touch you personally. Until one day it does strike you personally. Then you realize you're not as hard boiled as you thought you were. You're just as susceptible to emotional upsets as the next man. Which is what happened to me last Wednesday. My blonde secretary Carol Curtis was on the phone when I came into the office. Oh, here he is now, Fred. Just a second. Hi, grandma. Who is it? It's Fred Michaels and he seems pretty upset. Oh? Hello, Fred. What's up? What? Now? But look, I've got... Oh, I see. Yeah, okay, Fred. Okay, I'll be right over. That's funny. Well, what's the matter? Did he say? No. He said he had bad trouble, wanted to see me, said he couldn't talk over the phone. He wouldn't take no for an answer. Well, that doesn't sound like Fred. Are you going over? Well, sure. Get your purse. Let's go. All right. Fred Michaels was an old friend of mine, a fishing companion with whom I'd spent a lot of pleasant weekends. He owned a jewelry store over in the Miracle Mile. He was doing all right for himself. Ordinarily, Fred was a jolly-faced, likeable sort of guy with a good sense of humor. But when we walked into his store that Wednesday afternoon, he was anything else but that. His face was a pasty gray, and there was a terrified look in his eyes. For God's sake, Fred, what is it? What happened? It's Ricky, Chuck. He's been kidnapped. What? Oh, no, Fred. Yes, you've got to help me, Chuck. If anything happens, that boy will kill Elsie. He's all we have. Chuck, I don't know what... All right, cut it, Fred, cut it. Get a hold of yourself. Of course we'll help you. We'll do everything we can, but you've got to pull yourself together. Do you hear me? Oh, dear. I'm all right now. Good. Have you notified the police or the FBI? No. The man who called me told me if I did, they'd... Yeah, sure. That's a usual procedure. The police have to be notified, you know. Not until I get my boy back. They meant it when they said what they do. Tell me exactly what happened, Fred. Will you promise you won't call in the police? But look... No. No, I can't do it, Chuck. I can't. Okay, I promise. What happened? About a half hour ago, the telephone rang. A strange muffled voice told me Ricky had been kidnapped. A taxi had picked him up at his school. They said I was to get together $50,000 in cash and jewels if I notified the police something would happen to Ricky. I was to call the school and check their story so I'd know they weren't kidding. The voice said he'd call me back in 20 minutes and tell me what to do. Did you call the school? Yes. They said they had been called by someone who said he was me and told that a taxi would pick Ricky up at 3 o'clock to take him to the hospital to see his mother. Is Elsie sick? Yes, she underwent an emergency operation for appendicitis this morning. No. If Ricky had only thought he would have realized he couldn't see her so soon... Well, a 12-year-old kid can't be blamed for that. You called the hospital, of course. Oh, yes, yes. They knew nothing about it. But the abductors knew a lot about you and your family, Red. You haven't received your second call yet. No, they said they'd call in... That must be they now. All right, I'll answer, Ted. Keep your voice as steady as you can. All right. Hello? Yes, I did. Hello? Hello? Yes, I did. Hello? Hello? Yes, I did. Yes, I have the money. I'm listening, but... But... All right. Did they tell you what to do? Yes. Yes, they told me only... Only I'm to have someone else take the ransom to the place they designated. Did they name anyone in particular? Yeah. They said my pal, Chuck Morgan. His kidnappers really had things worked out. Actually, it wasn't surprising they should designate me as the one to deliver the ransom, because in the first place, they probably reasoned that in his frantic condition, Fred would arouse suspicion in the crowd. And secondly, they must know who I was as they called me Fred's pal, which meant I was a familiar figure to them. Lastly, they must have reasoned that I could obey their orders in a level-headed manner. Fred had every word of their instructions clearly imprinted on his mind. You're to take the ransom to the American bus line station at 629 South Main Street. Have you got it ready, Fred? Yes, it's here in this box. There's only a thousand dollars in cash. I had that much in the store. The rest is in diamonds and other gems. Okay. And what am I to do when I reach the bus line station? Well, there are two telephone booths at the left-hand side of the waiting room. You're to stand near the first one and wait there until the phone rings. Then I'll be told what to do next, eh? Yes, yes. They've got a time to the second. You're to leave here in a cab at exactly quarter of four. Brother, this is really a cooked-up deal. Chuck, you'll be careful, won't you? Ah, don't worry about me, Clamophus. Look, I'll tell you what to do. The minute I leave here, call Bill Meggs and tell him to stand by. Tell him I've got something hot and I want to... Chuck, you promised. Keep the promise, Fred. The minute Ricky has turned over to me, I'm going to call Bill. Carol can fill him in on the details and we'll go to work and get your money back. Okay. Just wait until you have Ricky. Don't worry, don't worry. I will. Well, it's a quarter to four. I'd better be going. Please be careful, Chuck. Coincidentally, there was a cab standing in front of Fred's door. I didn't ask him how he happened to be there, I just got in. Told him to take me to the American bus line station and gave him the address. We pulled up in front of the station at seven minutes past four. One of the big red and white luxury coaches bound for New York was just pulling away from the loading cab. I paid off the cabbie and went inside. Halfway down the long waiting room were the two telephones. Beyond these were parcel lockers. I walked over to the first phone booth, leaned against it. The ransom package conspicuously displayed under my arm. Perfect timing again. I had been there two minutes before the phone rang. Hello? Morgan, listen closely and do exactly as I tell you. Okay, go ahead. Go over to the candy counter and buy yourself some gum. Some what? Some gum. Oh, okay, got it. Start chewing a stick while you walk back to the parcel lockers. Put the package in number three locker. Take the key and walk back to the telephone booth where you are now. Use your gum and stick the key underneath the counter beneath the coin box. Got it? Yeah, yeah, I got it. What then? And walk down to the far end of the waiting room. There's a utility room there. It says on the door, private. About for employees only. Got that? Yeah, okay. Go inside and wait there for further instructions. Yeah, sure, but what about the boy? There's a phone in the utility room. You'll be called there and told where to pick up the kid. Okay. And remember, Morgan, you're being watched every minute. Don't be fool enough to try anything. Don't worry, I won't. I hung up and walked over to the candy counter. Give me some gum, any kind will do. Thanks. I opened up the pack and began chewing while walking back to the lockers. I opened number three, put the ransom package inside, took the key and walked back to the phone booth. There was an old lady inside of number one. She looked as though she were going to spend the afternoon there. I hesitated, glancing around. I saw two men standing near the entrance of the loading ramp watching me. They turned away when our eyes met, but I had a good look at them. The old lady was still talking. So after a minute, I stepped into the second booth and surreptitiously glued the locker key beneath the counter into the coin box. If I were being watched, I thought it didn't make any difference which phone booth I used and I wanted to get this business over with. So then I walked down to the end of the long narrow room, found the door marked private, keep out for employees only. Well, this was almost the end of the drama. In 10 minutes or so, I'd have Ricky safely in my custody. Or so I thought. I opened the utility room door and stepped inside. Then it happened. I glimpsed a profile and pulled down hat and then something hit me. I went to my knees and found myself staring through a curtain of fog at a pair of black and white sports shoes with long pointed toes. Then I came again and the old familiar curtain of darkness descended and cloaked me in its complete obscurity. How long I lay there, I don't know. But after a while, I was swimming up through a pit of blackness, clutching and re-clutching the consciousness. Finally, I got a grip and held on. Awareness came slowly. I stumbled to my feet, leaned against the wall. There was a laundry tub across the room and a couple of faucets. Somehow I made it and turned on the water. That did it. Full consciousness was back again. I got out of the utility room fast. I didn't have to get to the phone booth to discover that the key had been removed. The key covered with gum was in number three locker door. The door was open and the ransom package gone. But Ricky, where was Ricky? I ran to the phone booth, dropped a diamond to the slot. Get me police headquarters quick. It's an emergency. Police headquarters. This is Chuck Morgan. Tell Bill Megs to get hold of Carol Curtis, my secretary. You got that? Wait a minute. Just do as I say. Bill will understand. Hurry it up. Okay, Chuck. Will do. Thanks. I ran out into the street and got into a cab. Take me out to Miracle Mile fast. I'll show you where to stop. The cabbie took me at my word. We reached Fred's store in 15 minutes flat. There was another cab parked in front. The driver was just coming out of the store. He was the same man who had driven me to the bus station. Hey, hey, cabbie. Yeah? Hey, want a cab, mister? Maybe. What are you doing here? Well, if it's any of your business, I came to collect the fare. Look, mister, what's going on around here anyway? First I'm told to pick up a kid at school and take him to the hospital. All right, I do that. The kid tells me his old man will pay. Then I'm told to pick you up at the store, which I do. Then I'm supposed to go back to the hospital and get the kid and bring him here, which I do. Then I go- Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute. You picked up the kid and brought him back here? Sure. He's inside now. His old man just paid me off. What's all the excitement about anyway? At the moment, I don't know whether the excitement's over or just beginning. Is an officer named Bill Megs inside the store? Yeah, he's in there. He asked me a lot of questions, they'll grab my name and address. Well, there's only one question I want to ask you. You know who it was who called and gave you all those orders? Well, sure I know. It's the home office. They call me on the two-way radio. That's where I get all my orders. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. I should have remembered that. Now, do you want a cab or don't you? I got a living to make. Right now, the only thing I want is about five minutes to think and try to determine whether someone's making a sucker out of me. After that, I think I'll be needing a cab to take me to the residence of a certain gentleman I know who has a fondness for black and white sports shoes with long pointed toes. Well, this was one for the book. Of all the crimes that I or Bill Megs or anyone else had ever run afoul of, this was the cleverest. It was perfectly timed. The fed had called the hospital, the cab bearing his son was within 10 minutes of arriving. In every case, they'd estimated distances and the time it would take those distances to be covered in an automobile under normal driving conditions. The cabbie and the cab company were totally unaware of what was going on. At no time was Ricky in the hands of the abductors. So was it an abduction or wasn't it? Was it just a plain case of extortion? Well, whatever it was, I had a bump in my head the size of an egg. I had been the dupe of that little game and I intended doing something about it. Carol, Bill Megs, Pappy Mansfield, owner of KOP, Fred and I kicked the thing around for a while. Then Carol, Pappy and I drove back to KOP. I was still mad when we reached the office. I don't blame you for being mad, Chuck. From now on, it's a job for the police. Just sit back and let them do the work. There's not a chance of me doing that, Pappy. You see that lump? I've got a personal grudge to settle and $50,000 of Fred Michael's money and jewels that I gave away to collect. For heaven's sake, Chuck, Fred doesn't blame you for that. Besides, he's happy enough to have Ricky back. I don't care whether Fred blames me or not. I was a sucker in this business. I'm going to get the dough back. How stubborn can you be? And this crazy idea of yours about black and white sports shoes. Hundreds of people wear them. That's where you're wrong, Pappy. Hundreds of people don't, not with long pointed toes. You haven't seen a pair for months. Neither have I, except on one man. So you think you're going down to Skid Row, find a man wearing black and white sports shoes and he's going to confess to the kidnapping? Sounds simple enough. Don't be sarcastic, Glamour Puss. I might surprise you both. Anyway, that's where I'm going. I'm going alone and nobody's going to stop me. Well, I didn't have much to go on. A pair of black and white sports shoes. If the guy who had slugged me suspected for a minute that I'd noticed his shoes, he certainly wouldn't be wearing them now. On the other hand, a man who had a penchant for black and white shoes wouldn't think of himself as dressed any more conspicuously than anyone else. That's a heck of a theory to hang my suspicions on. Anyway, I went down to the row, parked my jalopy in front of Ace Murdoch's pool hall. Ace had run afoul of the police a good many times, but they'd never been able to make the charge stick. He was too clever. I got out, crossed the pavement, and entered the building. The air in the place was thick with layers of tobacco smoke. At least a dozen pool tables were ranked the length of a long room. Every one of them was in play. Other men lounged around the walls or sat in chairs. Ace Murdoch himself was playing a game of eight ball with a thin-nosed man at the table nearest the door. And voluntarily, my eyes went down to Ace's feet. He was wearing black and white sports shoes. I looked further and saw that his partner was also wearing black and white sports shoes. And then I discovered that every man in the room, and there must have been 25 at 30, was wearing black and white sports shoes. I walked over to Ace's table. Three ball in his side pocket. Well, hello, Morgan. Hi. Been expecting you. Buy a new pair of shoes for the occasion, Ace? Yeah, good-looking, ain't they? Six ball in the corner. What was there, a sale at some wholesale house and out of style models? Nope. I decided to start the fashion again, and the boys thought they'd go along with the gag. Eight ball in the corner. Well, that does it, fatso. Pay me later. Quite a gag, Ace. Kind of cute, I thought. Trouble is, right now a pair of black and white sports shoes has become an identification tag for a bunch of kidnappers. Kidnappers? Yeah. Don't you read the papers, Morgan. According to what I seen, there wasn't no kidnapping. A kid took a ride in a cab. When he got through, his old man paid off the driver. No harm done. I got news for you, Murdoch. A smart prosecutor isn't going to have any trouble convincing an honest jury that it all adds up to kidnapping. Yeah. Well, I got news for you, Morgan. There ain't going to be no prosecutor nor no jury because there ain't going to be no one to prosecute. Then we could start in on the boys wearing the black and white shoes and ask questions. Oh, now, Miss, if the city wants to give free room and board to all the gents you're going to find wearing black and white sports shoes, it's okay with me. You're going to find 400 of them. You're getting to be a pretty big man, aren't you, Ace? Bigger than you think, NewsHound. In a year's time, I'll be running this town. It was then that I noticed a circle of faces had closed in around us. There were men behind me. I knew what that meant. Well, I'd taken one beating from this gang of hoodlums today. I wasn't going to take another. Ace had carelessly laid his cue on the table. The thick butt was over a half an inch of my hand. I grabbed it, reversed the handle and clattered the nearest head. The guy went down like a dropped anchor. I began swinging the cup wildly back and forth the door. Come on, you bastard! I don't like you! Come on, you scared ass! Well, I partly repaid the score. I was going to get a good one. I was going to get a good one. I was going to get a good one. I was going to get a good one. I was going to get a good one. I was going to get a good one. I was going to get a good one. I was going to get a good one. I was going to get a good one. I was going to get a good one. I was going to get a good one. I was going to get a good one. Well, I partly repaid the score for that egg-sized lump of my head. But what else had I gained? At first, it seemed like nothing. But the more I thought, the more it occurred to me, I was closer to this thing than I realized. Well, like always, I decided to talk things over with Carol. And I really wanted to think. Carol has a knack of feeding me straight lines that often gives birth to a train of thought that pays off. So I went back to KLP, made my seven o'clock newscast, and took Carol over to Hatton's for a beer. But Chuck, Murdoch's right. Bill Meggs would never stand still for having 400 men picked up simply because they were wearing black and white sports shoes. Eh, I realize that. But why did Murdoch dream up this gag just to be funny? Eh, I don't think so, he's too smart for that. Well, maybe he did it to protect the man who slugged you. Hmm, could be. Murdoch has a reputation for protecting his boys. That's why he's become so big. But I think there's more to it. Perhaps he figured that the man who slugged you might not have sense enough to throw his sports shoes away. Hmm, that could be too. Maybe he figured the guy would one day take a chance and wear them and, ah, let's lay off that angle. There's something else that's bothering me, something I saw in the pool room that didn't fit. Something you saw? But what was it? I wish I knew. Somehow I associated with being slugged in the utility room at the bus station. But you already said it was the shoes. No, no, it was something else. Something I kept my finger on. I'll tell you what, Clamopus. Let's go down to the American bus lines again and I'll reenact my experience of this afternoon. Hey, that's a good idea. We did it once before and it paid off. Right, come on, let's go. Okay. On the way down to Main Street, I got to thinking about another angle of this screwy deal, the rents and money. Those jewels will be as hot as a pistol for weeks. And for all the kidnappers knew, Fred Michaels had taken down the serial numbers on the bills he'd included. So, what would a smart man, a man smart enough to figure out this abduction gimmick, do with the loot? Where would he hide it? Where no snoopy detectives would think of looking even though they had a suspect. The answer came slowly, but it came. And I was reasonably confident that I was right. It was around nine o'clock when we reached the bus terminal. The place was almost deserted. Where's this utility room you're talking about? I'll show you in a minute. Here's the phone booth. It was right here, I left the key. Don't look now. There's a guy standing over there at the entrance of the loading ramp watching us. I think he was one of the men who was here this afternoon. But what would he be doing here now? Unless I'm a way off the beam, I think he's guarding the ransom money. Guarding the ransom money? Are you serious? I'll explain later, come on. We walked down the long room, stopping at the candy counter to buy some gum. The guy near the ramp entrance kept watching us. We came to the utility room, I turned the knob of the door, pushed it and stepped back. The door swung inward and to the left, but nobody appeared with a pair of brass knuckles this time. I took a look inside, then came back and closed the door. You didn't really expect anyone to be in here, did you? No, but I found what I was looking for. You did? What is it? No, no, no, no time to explain. Now listen carefully. I want you to get out of here as fast as you can, find a phone, call Bill Megs and tell him to get down here with a couple of cops quicker than he ever did anything in his life. But why don't I use one of those telephones over there? Because if you do, that guy on the ramp will get suspicious. He won't dare follow you as long as I'm here. But I don't see him. Nevermind, do as I say, and stay away from here until Bill arrives. All right. Carol started for the main exit. At the same time, the man near the ramp left his post and headed diagonally across the room as though to intercept her. I took a couple of steps forward. She then stopped. The two of them passed within two feet of each other. Carol, smart girl, had acted as though she hadn't seen the man at all. She disappeared through the main exit and the guy went into one of the phone booths. Well, this one wasn't hard to figure. He was calling Murdock. It just remained now to see whether Murdock and his gang or Bill Meggs and his cops would get here first. I went over to the parcel lockers, leaned up against one and lit a cigarette. The guy came out of the phone booth, gave a quick look around the room, located me, came over, put his shoulder against another locker. He also lit a cigarette. A pretty ridiculous situation. Neither of us spoke. We both knew what the other was waiting for. 15 minutes passed. And then four men came storming through the door of the station. One of them was Ace Murdock. The man near the lockers reached into his pocket and I jumped on him. Give me that gun. Get out of the way, spider. Spider can't get out of the way, Ace. If he does, I'll break his arm. Drop that gun and put your hands up. Yeah, yeah, I'm after him. Too bad, spider. Ace shot Spider through the heart with no more regard for human life than the hen has for a worm. I held Spider's second body for a minute, shielding myself against Ace's second shot. That minute wasn't too much. Bill Meggs, two cops, Pappy Mansfield, and Carol came through the door and were almost up to Murdock and his men before they realized it. All right, Murdock, get him. We got back to the studio just in time for me to go on the air for my 11 o'clock broadcast. There wasn't any time for anyone to write a script, so I made a few notes while Carol drove the jalopy, which meant I wasn't able to satisfy her curiosity about a lot of things that were unexplained in her mind, and the minds of Pappy and Bill Meggs, for that matter. Carol, Pappy, and Bill stood in the control booth and watched while I had led my way through 15 minutes of news concerning the kidnappers. I could tell by the expression on their faces I wasn't going to have any peace until I gave them the answers. But this time I fooled them. I gave the answers to the listening public first. And through some intelligent thinking part of the police, it was reason that a man with the twisted mind of Ace Murdock would hide the ransom money in the last place anyone would expect to look, one of the lockers near where I had been ordered to place it earlier in the afternoon. Well, later this was proven to be correct. As for my own experience, I'd noticed that the man playing pool with Ace Murdock this afternoon was left handed. This meant nothing until I revisited the waiting room with the American bus line station. I opened the door of the utility room where I'd been slugged. It swung inward and to the left. This afternoon, I glimpsed only the profile of a man who had slugged me. This meant that he too must have been left handed. Well, that about winds it up, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for listening. This is Chuck Morgan inviting you to be with us at my next newscast and to Stand By for Crime. ["Stand By For Crime"]
