 You can 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 laughter on a bright morning in a battle over a chicken. It got better as it went along. It could have lasted a lifetime, but it didn't. It stopped on a grave morning with a little wishbone broken. 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, star of Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's exciting story, The Little Wishbone. Sometimes the sun doesn't shine at nine o'clock in the morning. Sometimes everything's just gray. The sky, the buildings, the streets. The face is going by gray in a man's mind. And when I parked in front of the blackly landscaped secular square and sent that boulevard and got out of my car, I knew this was just such a morning. And that was right as it should be, because what I had to tell her, what had to be said, belonged in grade to the chilling half-life that leaves everything in everybody something less than real. There are half-lifes that may be a moment before birth and maybe a moment after death. Yes, sir. I'd like to see Miss Jones. Miss Cordelia Jones, please. I called. My name is Philip Marlowe. Oh, yes, Mr. Marlowe. I'm Mr. Early. Come in, please. I, um, the police told me what happened, sir. I'm sorry. Yeah, thanks. May I see an operate? Yes, of course. It's the last door down on the right-hand side. This way, Mr. Marlowe. The flushed carpet that ran the length of the car, though, was also gray. And that fit too with the morning and with what I had to tell Miss Cordelia Jones. But the weather didn't fit with another morning. Three weeks ago, the morning that was bright inside my mouth. And it didn't fit with Jonesy. Ah, not Jonesy. The stranger in the butcher's shop, the customer with the enchanting green-grey eyes. The girl who wanted the same sewing chicken I did. And in no uncertain terms. Oh, yes, I do. Oh, yes, I do. Oh, yes, I do. Oh, yes, I do. Oh, yes, I do. Oh, yes, I do. Oh, yes, I do. Oh, yes, I do. Oh, yes, I do. Oh, yes, I do. Ah, but either did you, Miss Jones. Ah, it was a tie. I thought it was a finish. Now, who really needs this scorny little bird the most? Me. I'm the one who needs... I'm the one who needs... We're not all talking together. Now, you first, Miss Jones. I'll be the judge. You're very nice, Mrs. Ward. Your honor, early this morning I was inspired. I woke up thinking about chicken cacciatore. Chicken cacciatore? What do you think I was thinking about? I was thinking about the... No, no, no, no, no, no, no interruption now. Now you see, maybe you woke up thinking about chicken cacciatore. Go ahead, Frankie. influences, snack And you, Mr. Mallow? The same Judge, honest to goodness. From inspiration do I also cook for one? Oh man... Well, you've not even spoken for it. You? Uh, uh, for good. Then that's it... Excellent. carriage the publin. Tonight you have dinner together. He caught me so we don't even know each other. Why, this is just... What do you mean, you did? Marlowe, so Marlowe. What do you mean? Don't, you do know. Uh, but don't scare you, the first part I answer to him. Oh, dear. Yeah, now you know each other. Well, it's me, don't you? Oh, no, I... It's the 100th day of Jeremiah, 8 o'clock. Don't be late and send the bird out, please. This is for us. Goodbye. Goodbye. Oh, hey, hey. Hey, Mr. Marlowe. Yes, Mrs. Ward. You can put the chicken down now. You're the only ones in the shop. Well, that's the way it started. And it's gone along in about the same sense in the chicken cut your sorry, which was the best I'd ever eaten. But only because I could look at the lovely chef while I ate it. That's a wonderfully gabby evening that I didn't want at the end. But then it did. The lunch the next day and the day after. Well, yeah, Jonesy was something, all right. My profession and artist around the edges. She painted beer cans for life for an ad agency downtown. So her place on Jeremiah was half studio, half apartment, and all cozy. You know the kind of cozy that makes you want to curl up the second you walk in? Always makes you hate to leave. But leave you did because Jonesy liked to go places. Jonesy liked to do things. I like to play miniature golf and badminton and, of course, bowling every Wednesday night. Oh, OK. Smaller on the front it is, but the lady still has one car left. All right, let's see it. How's it going? Am I great or no? Quick. Great, baby. Real great. And before we start through the observatory proper, and tonight we're fighting just to the moon. Oh, the ball and the dirty double crossing deal. Oh, where's the bowling at this time? It's awful. I'm talking about you. You'll call my office two days tonight, you say? Let's just look at the moon. Ha, ha, ha. Yeah. You tell me. What's up, Moe Holland Drive? You bet I expected Moe Holland Drive. Yeah, park car and all. Oh, come on, Jonesy. We can still get out of here. You know. Um, have you two quite finished your little chat? Oh, quite. I, uh, you just, oh, we'll try. We'll be very quiet, we promise. You know what we hope? Come on, Jonesy. We better stay with the others. OK, we'll stay with them. Something breaking you up, Junior? Yeah. Young love, my friend. Always does. Excuse me, but I don't think I could listen to a charming guide anymore. Good night. Oh, you're going to join me right to the door? Here, that man going to the door. Yeah? Who? What did he say? He said he was leaving, but young love always broke him up. Why? Because I, I don't know. I guess I thought he was somebody else. Oh, come on. This guy's crazy. He wouldn't listen to a charm. All the moan over Moe Holland Drive. Fair. Be careful, boy. The lady is too stupid. He'll be done. Hmm. Come on. Most inimitable style, Jonesy, was crazy. But there, too, I went right along with it. Because no three weeks have passed up a half a dozen jobs for everyone I cook. Never stuck my chin out very far when I did go to work and all and all. Tried my best not to behave like the high school sophomore who suddenly realized that spring can mean something more important than baseball. We were at her place one night. The evening's plans were called for me to sit as a model, from the wrist down exclusively. All I had to do was hold a bottle of Johnny Walker in the pouring position while she skipped it. But I just couldn't get with things. They're all participating again. I'm not going to get any steadier. How much longer, Jonesy? A minute. You don't think about it. Look out tomorrow. Sunday. What are we going to do? Loads of them. Yeah. What happens first? I come over here. For breakfast. No doubt? Mm-hmm. That's a hot cake, bacon, and eggs, coffee, and lots of cigarettes. We can, uh... We don't have to get to anything. Huh? Well, come to think of it, I have. Grapefruit, broil. We'll start with that. Then the eggs basted. And then... It's impossible. I'm helpless. What next? After you've gorged this up, I mean. Yeah, well, after I've gorged, we'll get in my car and take a ride. Say, uh, Laguna Beach? Oh, no, not that, you know. Not Laguna. Uh-huh. You what? What is it, Jonesy? What's wrong with Laguna? Nothing, Phil. I... Oh, it's just that I don't like it there. It's an artist colony, you know? Go ahead. And it's where I could make a go of it once. I got a nice little bag. I'd rather go someplace else. Any time. All right? Sure. Yeah, I thought it was something more serious, Jonesy. I mean, not that your work doesn't count, but... You're a detective without office hours, huh? Yeah, I guess so. Do I go back to the bottle bar? Uh-uh. You don't move an inch down. And that's what... You know? Give me that stuff. Paintful's board. Take her over. We'll put it over here, and I... Oh, my God. I'm crazy. Oh, my God. Yeah. Oh, no damage, then. I don't think. Glad it wasn't your watch. That's broken. Mm-hmm. Hey, baby, it's kind of cute. Miniature ice-cake, huh? For my kid brother. Mm-hmm. I think we were going to be a great skating team when we grew up. Really? And there's a four-leaf clothing? Oh, well-wisher. Playback at college. A girl. Mm-hmm. Hey, hey, kid, pair of hearts and twine. I love that. Also back at college? None of your business. Okay. And this thing? Mm-hmm. Here, where the piece is broken off near the chain. What was that? Well... It was a wishbone. Here you go. Oh, and I lost it. He'll put the bracelet on my wrist, please. I must remember that I got to finish this sketch. It's you first thing Monday morning. You mind? You mean I got to pose tomorrow? No. No, thanks, Stella. I didn't finish it alone. I'll...I'll look for you tomorrow morning at 10. All right? All right. Good night, Jonesy. At home, I've surrounded some place between potting poor Marlowe. The girl he goes for keeps secrets from him. And plain male pride. Goodbye, Jonesy. You'll live your life and I'll live mine. But by the next morning, I'd told myself on a switch. Some things just weren't my business. I wasn't a private detective where Jonesy was concerned. It would all work itself out. Life would go on. And it did. Breakfast was wonderful, boiled grapefruit and food. And the rides to what turned out to be Santa Barbara were perfect. So in the days that followed, no more was said about it, and nothing unusual happened. Until the following Friday night, that was the night before last. We were at a square dance to the local daughters of something or other large. The exercise would do me good, she said, and I was learning in a hurry. I thought... No! No! You'll live! You'll live! We swung into a grand right and left, which abruptly brought her up against a tall fat man with a circle of sweating face without the cold black button's rise. Almost no nose and thin pair of lips that were twisted as far away from a smile as far away. Without saying a word to me, she ran from the floor to the check room. And I thought it after her until suddenly I remembered the face that had just swiped me. The man who had laughed at young love that night at the observatory. The man shown to you thought she'd known. I turned back to some time to see him walk off the other side of the dance floor. Calmly leave the building by a side entrance, which is all the queue I needed. Brandon, let's not bother with the routine we played at the observatory. Yes, I remember you now. Good. What else do you remember? Come on, the girl in there. I want answers, Mrs. They mean a lot to me. Yes, so I see. So you saw before and I thought... All right. That's just what I planned to do. You can tell her that for me. And also a reminder that I was on the corner of Third and Oak too on Armistice Day. Third and Oak and Laguna Beach. Laguna Beach. Yes. And if you don't mind, give her this one in. A cold wish bomb. A charm, uh-huh. A charm that can't miss for me because both ends are in my hands, see. So when I pull it apart as I make my wish, I can't move. There. Now the pieces, Mr. Big Talk. I'll turn them to the lady and tell her that I'll be heard from again. Good night. Good night. Yeah. They'll hear from me again, too. Mrs. I'll pass that to you. Oh, don't sit together. We haven't got a chance against their mothers. But we'll be there. Oh, wait a minute, a customer. For your back. Yes, sir. You checked? Yeah. The first miss, there was a girl. About your height. Dark hair, pretty green eyes, green dress, stuff like that. Oh, yeah, wait a minute. Uh, are you Mr. Man on this? That's right. Did she leave a message? Yeah. She said to tell you that she was on the corner of Third and Oak. Yeah, she said to tell you that she was going, but not home. She was just going. Just going? Yeah. She was just going. For good. I want you to have the coat now, Miss. Yeah. I hadn't come. But no other word than that. She wasn't coming back. I spent what was left of the night looking for her checking from one place to another, but it was no good. The next morning early when I tried once more at a studio apartment, all I found out was that she never returned. I decided there was one place left to look. A street corner in Laguna where over a month ago something had happened that wouldn't lie still. I got in my car and headed south, and all the way down for one specific surf look cold and hostile. And the dreary desolation that hits all beach resorts out of season has settled on Laguna like a thick hangover. I finally found the intersection of third note. With two sleepy drug stores at dying bar and a pottery stand closed for the winter. Nothing else. The only sign of life was a black-spreaded old man on a bench whittling listlessly at a piece of gnarled gray driftwood that matched his hands with perfection. It looked as though he'd been there for 20 years. So I decided to give him a try. What's that you say, old fella? I said things are pretty dull around here, huh, Pop? I didn't know. Generally, somewhere or something happening. People come, people go, like you. You all got things on their mind. Uh-huh. They ought to come and go more often, Pop. You picked a dead corner, huh? Dead. Well, I don't know about that. It seems like this corner gets a good share of life. Oh. I'll bet you nothing's happened on this corner in the last six months worth talking about. You're wrong, son. It's from the Gemma. Last August, a baby was born over in front of the drug store there in a taxi. Mrs. Wright, jail right it was. Old Si Lemley, the drugist, delivered a fine job to an eight-pound boy. And, uh, on the other end of life? Yeah. That, too. A fella named Peter. He was a kind of belated war casualty, you might say. How do you mean? Well, he went through the first World War without a scratch, and then he got himself killed by a hit-and-run driver right over there in front of the tavern, and it happened just a month ago. Oh, now, Mr. Steele. Hit-and-run. A man dead. Yeah. About two o'clock in the morning, they say. To this day, they haven't caught up with the driver. Say, what's the matter, son? You're white as a sheep. I felt like I'd been hit hard below the belt. I don't remember what I saw the old man. All I could think of was Jonesy on Armistice Day. A hit-and-run death and a slimy maggot breaking a wishbone charm between fat fingers. But my next step was mechanical. I started checking rooming houses. The kid is strictly to artist, and the third one paid off. More than I expected. Cordelia. Yes, I remember Cordelia. Come in. Thanks. And she did have a room here, Mrs. Winkle. Yes, she did. Now, what was it about Cordelia, Mr. Marlowe? Well, I... I'm a friend of hers, Mrs. Winkle. A good friend. I'm trying to locate her. I see. Well, Cordelia left quite suddenly in the middle of the night, Mr. Marlowe. Left a half-finished canvas behind, too. Beautiful things. Yes, sometimes artists have to spread their wings and fly. Even in the middle of the night? Ah, yes. I used to myself when I was younger. Heaven knows. Tell me, Mr. Marlowe, is anything wrong about Cordelia? Why do you ask that, Mrs. Winkle? Because the morning after she left, it was the armistice day, I think. A man came here asking about her, a fat man. Did you know him? No. And from what I read in his face, I don't think I'd like him. Look, Mrs. Winkle, I gotta find out all I can about that guy right away. It means trouble for Jonesy, uh, Cordelia. You see, she... What I mean is... Don't bother explaining, I think I understand. As it turned out, this fellow used to telephone while he was here. His name is... Oh, I want to speak now. Orland, uh, something weak and smiddling like this. Big, big, big lay. That's it. Orland, big lay. He made a reservation at the Beekman Plaza Hotel in Hollywood. Beekman Plaza, huh? Okay, now look, did you tell him anything about Jonesy leaving like she did? Oh, goodness, no. I said she planned on leaving. I even told him what we had for breakfast. He just smiled. It was pretty. Then he went away. That's all I know. Mm-hmm. Thanks, Mrs. Winkle. Thanks a lot. Good luck, Mr. Marlowe. Good luck, she said. Mm-hmm, sure. All the good luck Marlowe and a girl named Jonesy had come and was burned out in a street corner at two o'clock in the morning a month ago. But we still had a chance. I can only talk to Jonesy. All the way back to LA, I worried because of that I had to find her first. I was halfway down the hall to my apartment when I heard it. My phone. I ran to the door and practically ripped it off the hinges before it stopped ringing. Hello? Hello, darling. Jonesy! Jonesy, where are you? That doesn't matter. I just called to say goodbye, Phil. I couldn't leave without that. Now, look, you're not going any place you're going to sit tight right where you are until I get there. Are you still up? I'm in a bad jam. I should have told you all about it long ago, but... Well, it's too late now. It's not too late, baby. I just got back from Laguna. Honey, I know all about it. Look, look, you're in love with a good private eye, you remember? Don't run, baby. That's not the answer. There isn't any answer, Phil. There never was for us. Jonesy, please, will you shut up and listen to me for a minute? I can't, Phil. I thought it all over. My mind's made up. So I'm going to have to get out of this mess my own way. Honey, we gotta talk. Come on, where are you? Please, Phil. Please, can't you see I'm having an awful tough time with this bitch as it is? Jonesy, baby, look... Don't make it tougher on me. I'm sorry, boys, Phil. Thanks for the buggy ride, Mr. Swell, while it lasted. Baby, you can't run. Don't try it. I know that, but I... Goodbye, Phil. Okay, Jonesy. We'll make it the hard way. Since I couldn't stop Jonesy from running, I figured I could at least stop the guy who was chasing her. So I called the Beakman Plaza and found out that all in Bagley was still registered. I got my car and started for the hotel, but then... I got another idea. There was a good chance that a sleazy blackmailing crumb like Beggie carried a record of his own. Anyway, it was worth a try and would pay off better now than a beating. I went to police headquarters and said where Detective Lieutenant Matthews was his old sympathetic self, as usual. So, you got some citizen all steak out and now you want to find out if he's a crook? How, Marla? What is this? Something new in crime detection? Now, look, Matthews, I'll come down some quiet Tuesday. We'll make all the jokes all afternoon. But right now... Now, wait a minute. If you're going to dip into police files, I would like to know a little bit more about it. No jokes. All right, the guy goes by the name of all in Bagley. Fat, dark, six point, about 40. Could be anything from a badge or a bum check artist. Right now, he's shooting an angle that includes me. So, I find him in the files. I want an exclusive on him for 10 minutes. Then he's all yours. Yeah? Well, what's the hooker? Why are you included? Because of a brunette named Jones. Oh. Jones? Yes, Jones. I'd like to make it Marla someday. Don't fool Matthews. This time, I'm serious. Okay, Phil. Okay, help yourself. You'll find about 3,000 fat guys in there. You know, 2,000 of them with dark hair. Go ahead and start. I'll send them one of the clerks to give you a hand. Matthews' guess was close. But with the clerks' help and hard work, we narrowed the field down to a few hundred cars and started through. The street lights had been on outside for an hour before we finally found it. 40 pounds lighter and sporting a moustache, but there was no doubt about it. James Holland, Alias Jim Olo, Alias Olin Bigelow was now Olin Bagley, with charges that ran from Teddy Thievery in Louisiana to the one that even got Matthews on the ball. Bagley was wanted for murder in Rhode Island. What are we waiting for, Marla? Let's go get him. When we piled into the squad car and headed up Sunset Boulevard, I began to feel good again for the first time that Jonesy had run away at the square dance. When we turned up Whitley, Matthews cut the siren and two blocks above the Boulevard we stopped. We're out in the corner from the Beekman Plaza. With a two-story frame hotel held together by countless coats of cheap paint only. An inside line of empty sweet-air bottles said it took something more than ordinary ventilation to keep the musty smell from getting thick enough to chew. The jittery nightclub managed to tell it to Bagley at room 212, then left his mouth hanging open while Matthews sent him outside. Marla, you mentioned ten minutes along with him. You still want to? It's important to me, Matthews. Okay. Somebody's got to go up and get him, might as well be you. Look, the boys will cover his window from outside and both ends of the hall from the landings. If it gets tight, just whistle and duck. Go ahead. Went upstairs to the second floor where the only light was a red bull with the far end of the hall marked fire exit. Just then, midway down, I saw a figure backing out of a door. A fat figure was having trouble with a lot. He turned. The three fat steps caught me before he realized I was there. It was all in Bagley. When he saw me, he stopped and began slowly backing up. You, man. What do you want? What are you doing here? Where is she, Bagley? I don't know. I'm out of here. I've shot off, anyway. I go through with it. I can't remember. Sure you did. Come here, you! You lousy murdering pig, Bagley! Get out! How did you know that? How'd you find out? Police filed bulletin from Rhode Island. I mean it. Yeah. Yeah, that's right. I'm hard. I had to have a go. That's the only reason I tried to shake the kid down. Yeah, but listen, you got me now, so let's make a deal. I'll keep my app shut. Not one word about that hit and run. You let me out of here. That's your chance. You'll find me. I've killed him all I want, but you won't stop me. Nice going, Marlowe. You got him. Flat on his face where he belongs. Hey, where you going? Find Jonesy Matthews. I got to talk to her. Hey, what's up? Yeah? There's a brunette here in this guy's room. You got to come in. Well, yeah, that Marlowe brunette. Well, let's go. It looks like you can do your talking right here and now. Come on, boy. I went along with Matthews, all right. But it didn't work out like he expected, because what I had to say to Jonesy, that just couldn't be said. Not in a cheap hotel with a bunch of tough cops standing around it. It had to wait. Wait for the hours of a long night to pass. The night I spent pounding the sidewalks through miles of back streets while I tried to get hold of myself. But all that had been 12 hours ago. Now it was morning. Now I could look at her again. Yeah, and now as I followed Mr. Early down the grey carpet and hauled to a door, I figured I could tell Jonesy all I wanted to say. She's here, Mr. Marlowe. In here. Thanks. Hello, Jonesy. I guess you didn't understand that the two people were in love. They share everything. You didn't give me a chance, Jonesy. You see, I found out Bigby was a killer after you'd already gone to his hotel to get him. You crazy kid. You should have trusted me, Jonesy. Quite straight. Because no matter how you added up, we had something worth waiting for. Well, as you said, thanks for the buggy ride, baby. It was great. Oh, here's your little charm. Wishbone. Sorry, it's broken. Goodbye, Jonesy. Anything else I can do to help Mr. Marlowe? Good day, sir. He'll press mortuary. Mr. Early is speaking. The Adventures of Philip Marlowe, bringing you Raymond Chandler's most famous character, star Gerald Moore, and are produced and directed by Norman McDonnell. Script is by Robert Mitchell and Gene Levitt. Features in the cast were Gene Bates, Bill Johnstone, Jane Morgan, John Daener, Edgar Berrier, and Ann Morrison. The square dance was called by Paul Pierce. Detective Lieutenant Matthews is played by Larry Dubkin. The special music is composed and conducted by Richard O'Roth. Be sure to be with us again next week when Philip Marlowe says... This time a tobacco-chewing engineer, a redhead running a bulldozer and a leprechaun on a drag line, all added up to death at an unfinished trestle. And there could have been more. But then I found out which one had actually submitted the lowest bid. The Adventures of Philip Marlowe, starring Gerald Moore, comes to you every Saturday evening at the same time transcribed.