 Yes, it's another case for that most famous of all man hunters. The detective whose ability at solving crime is unequaled in the history of detective fiction. Nick Carter, master detective. Tonight's curious adventure, death in the pines. For Nick Carter and the mystery of the murdered driver. There's a truck coming up the grade now. It ought to be them. Yeah, just one-thirty. That's a take truck, all right? Now you guys know what to do. We've done it often enough before. I should. All right, get going. When the truck gets close enough, I'll put the search light in the driver's face like before. Here, stop fast enough. The blazes goes on here. What's the big idea? Get those hands up, wise guy, and get down out of that cab. You guys can't get away with this. Shut up. You want to stay alive, get down out of that cab, and keep quiet. And bring your helper down with you. You're a bunch of crooks. Don't you know, don't, don't, don't. They got us. There ain't nothing we can do. Okay, boys, get busy. Get up on that truck and get that stuff dumped out in the road. Okay, sir. Shake it up, boys. We want to get out of here. Hey, keep your voice moving, Jake. We got another one to take care of, yeah? Hey, I know that voice. So you're the guy who sent back of all this hijacking. Now I know you. Oh, yeah. Well, I hope that's quiet. Oh. What's the idea? What do you have to kill him for? Shut up, punk. You don't want to get bumped off, too. But you didn't have to kill him. Shut up. Hey, that changes our plans a little, Jake. Get your men down off the truck. Pick these two stiffs up and put them back in the cab of the truck. Then put a hole in the gas tank and touch a match to it. Okay, boys. Come on down. There won't be much left for the cops to work on when they get here, which is all right with me. I don't like to see them get killed, but when they know too much, it's the only way. I see, corner. Yes, thanks very much. Yes, thanks. So long. Might as well let me know the worst, Mr. Cutter. As to what I've been through a little more or less doesn't matter. Mr. Tate, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your driver wasn't burned to death. He was shot, murdered before the truck was set on fire. Yeah, he was afraid of that. Regan was my oldest and best driver, been with me for 10 years. You're having trouble with racketeers? Yes, have been for the past year. How do they work? Well, I operate about 40 trucks, hauling vegetables and green stuff from South Jersey to the New York markets. It has to be done at night, so we get in New York market before morning. About a year ago, somebody called me on the phone and said he represented a protective agency. And he'd like to sell me protection at $25 a truck. $25 a truck? That's pretty steep, isn't it? It's exorbitant. I told him I wouldn't pay it. So what happened? Two days later, one of my trucks was stopped and the drivers were beaten. The produce was dumped and destroyed. Next day, the guy called again. I told him I wouldn't pay. Did you try getting protection from the state troopers? Sure I did. And they did what they could. Whenever a trooper followed one of the trucks, or when one of their men rode on the truck as a helper, these trucks were never bothered. But the other trucks, and with the same old story. I see. Well, how do you account for the fact that the trucks with the troopers on them were never touched? I don't know, unless the hijackers had spies at the loading points to watch if the trucks had their regular crews. And what was the outcome this time? In the end, I had to agree to pay the $25. Then, for six months, there was no more trouble. A week ago, this same guy called and said the Andy had been raised from $25 to $40 a truck. I told him I couldn't pay that because I didn't make that much. And you know what happened last night. Yes, yes, I know. Well, are you going to try to keep riding the stuff through? If you can help me, I will. I'll do it. And to begin with, I'd like to put my assistant Patsy Bowen in your office as a typist. Sure. Maybe she can learn something that will start us off in the right direction. Well, Patsy, did you have a nice eventful day in Tate's office? I learned a few things, Nick, if that's what you mean. Good. Let's have them. Mr. Tate makes up the daily schedule of operations based on the orders he receives. Then he turns the completed schedule over to Al LaPauro, who's the fleet foreman. Only Mr. Tate, LaPauro and Dave Morgan, is Tate's assistant. Know what the orders are, as far as I can find out. I see. Any suspicions? Not yet. LaPauro has been with Tate nine years and Morgan for about four years. When the trouble started about a year ago, both of them rode the trucks. Morgan was one of the drivers who got beaten up. Get knocked out cold before he could see anything. Doesn't leave us much in the way of anything to go on, does it? Sorry, Nick, but that's all I could get today. I don't feel bad, Patsy. You did what you could. What's the next step? I want to talk to the state trooper who found the truck in which Regum was killed. He may be able to tell me something that's been overlooked. You say you've read my report, Mr. Cutter? I don't know that I can tell you anything else. Were you on the state release force when Tate started having his trouble about a year ago? Yes, I was. Well, that business of the hijackers never picking on a truck guarded by state troopers needs explaining. Could there have been any leak from this in? Absolutely not. I rode several of the trucks myself. None of us ever knew where we were going until Tate's office gave us our orders, and we went out on the road just as soon as we got those orders. Good, and the leak must be on Tate's end. Now, the next thing. Your report gives the impression that the thug simply stopped Tate's truck, killed the driver in cold blood, and then burned the truck for good measure. Was that your personal impression? Well, no. When I first got there, I was suspicious because the truck hadn't gone off the road or collided with anything that would cause a fire or a wreck. Then I remembered that Tate's trucks had been having trouble a while back, so I took another look around. And the result of that second examination? The truck was surrounded by crates which had been thrown off the truck. Crates that were smashed and broken, but not burned. Now, if the hijackers were going to burn the truck, why bother to throw all those crates off the truck first? It just didn't make sense. That's what I wanted to know. I'd say the gang started out to do the usual job, smashing the cargo and manhandling the crew. But then something happened. Something that made them switch their tactics. And they did something they'd never done before. They killed the driver. Yeah, that explanation would fit the facts as I saw them. But what do you suppose caused the change in plan? Well, I can make you guess, maybe. Tate told me that Regan was his oldest driver. Yeah? Now, somebody in Tate's outfit must be in league with the hijackers. That's the only way they could know as much as they do. I believe that Regan recognized one of Tate's men in the hijack gang. Sure. And that fits right in with the idea that somebody in Tate's outfit was crossing him. Yes, Mr. Cutter, I believe you've hit something. Have you arranged with Mr. Tate for me to go to work for him? Oh, no, Scuppy. I haven't said anything to him. I don't want him to know. Well, then how do you know I can get the job? Tate's lost so many men since Regan was killed a couple of nights ago that he'd be glad to hire anybody. Perhaps he'll fix you up with the necessary papers, licenses, references, and so forth. Wear your old clothes and don't wash your neck and you'll have no trouble getting hired. And what do you want me to look for especially, Nick? Well, according to what Patsy says, the leak either goes through Tate, which hardly seems likely, through Leparo or Morgan. Or through somebody else we haven't found out about yet. So get a line on things in general. On any one of me, look suspicious. Oh, and if you're riding a truck that gets held up, don't try to shoot it out, Scuppy. Just let things ride. We'll see about that when the time comes. It's a 40 to one shot against her getting stopped, but that's the same. Watch your step. These men, whoever they are, have two murders on their head and they won't balk at a couple more. Men looking for jobs line up over here. New men over here. Hey buddy, who's the guy over there at the desk? Oh, that's Al Leparo, the fleet foreman. Oh, that's the guy. Looks like a tough egg. Don't worry, fella. He ain't turning nobody down these days. This outfit's got the finger on it. They had 40 men walk out on them yesterday and I got a hunch this new gang ain't gonna last long either. Oh, you mean an account of the killings the other day? Yeah, that and the beaten up of a couple other drivers. Recently? Yeah, night before last. Hey, that ain't so good, is it? Ah, what's the difference? A job, ain't it? Hey, who's the other guy? Huh? Oh, that's Dave Morgan, old man Tate's assistant. All right, report to the garage at once. Next? Mike Clausen's a name, Mr. Leparo. Here are my papers. Mm-hmm. You worked here before, ain't you? Sure. I drove for you, Bob. Never mind that. You ain't working here no more. Right, Morgan? Right, Leparo. Nothing doing on that guy. Oh, but what's the matter? I got a good record. I ain't never had no trouble. Maybe not, but you ain't wanted here. Get out. Next. Ah, that big, long one. Who's next? Oh, me. Ah, the name's Wilson. Where's your papers? Oh, yeah. Here. Wilson, huh? Yeah. OK, you're hired. Report to Matt Stige on truck number 11. You start as helper at $23 a week. Satisfied? Sure, boss. OK by me. Tell Stige he picks up his load tonight at Freeman's Farm down South Jersey. He knows where this is. Get going. Right. Thanks. So they took you on, did they, Scubby? I thought they would. Yes. I'm falling from a lunch room, where I just ate. Anything happen yet? Well, just before they gave me a job, an old timer named Mike Clausen was turned down. He used to work for eight years ago. I see. Maybe they didn't want to take on anyone who ever worked there before, or who has been there for long. Well, maybe it doesn't mean anything, Nick, but it looks as if the, uh... What's the trouble, Scubby? Looks as if somebody's on to you already. Any idea who it could be? No, no. There's always a chance that somebody's recognized you. I'll keep your eyes open, Scubby. Don't start anything. Any orders? No. Let me know at once if anything worthwhile happens. And good luck to you. Thanks. I have several lines of investigation that I want to follow up here in the city. There are certain angles of this case that I want to clear up here before I do anything else. So long, Scubby. See you soon. I hope. Gosh, man. Driving one of these trucks is no sense, is it? Out of your mind, kid. Well, I've been driving a truck around in the city, and it ain't been like this at all. We spent the afternoon loading the stuff on the truck. Now we got to spend all night riding it back to town. You don't like it, huh? I began to think it wasn't such a bright idea. I don't know what this paid off to. Especially with a chance of getting beat up, throwing in free. Ah, cheer up. You might ride for weeks and never get stopped at all. Gosh. This is a lonely section of this country, ain't it? Nothing but these scrub pines both sides of the road. That's right. Hey, I'm getting tired, man. You know, it's been a long time since I didn't so much weight. Might I have a take a little nap? Ah, go ahead. About one o'clock now. I'll drive till three, then you can take over. You'll be out in the main road by then. Okay. Call me if you need me. Yeah, sure, kid. Somebody is signaling us with a flashlight to stop. I wonder what... Hold on. No, don't stop, man. Hit me. Be a hold up. Remember old man Tate's artist? No truck stop for nothing. Oh, it's a state trooper. There's nothing to worry about. Oh, yeah. You can see the uniform now. Okay. I'll get out and see what he wants. Hey, what's the matter, officer? Hey, that's our phony uniform. You're not a regular cop. This is a guy, all right. Why don't you pull and take care of the driver. Look out, man. Man, it's a trap. Shut up, dick, and don't move. I got you covered. I don't try to pull it out. No! There, that takes care of you, you rat. Now for the other... Here you are, copper. Oh, man. Fighting for a while. Okay, boys, come on. And I've done it in years. I almost wish I'd kept scubby here to do the walking around. Going out on the truck myself. Did you find out anything, dick? Yes, Matsey, I think so. But I can't be sure for a little while yet. Not until I get some more answers to some of the thousands of questions I've asked today. There have been several messages for you. I think this is probably the only one that's really important. Yeah. Oh, thank you. I thought so. He's trying to borrow money. He's stole that much of it. Makes me positive on the right track. Any report from the state troopers, Petsy? Yes, I think they've located the place. They're going to call you later this evening when they get the details. Good. That'll give me time to join them before they make a raid. I don't want to miss being in at the kill. You awake, Wilson? That's Tiger, your driver. Oh, yeah, I remember now. They stopped us. I tried to fight, and they knocked me out. How about you? Yeah, they count me too. I wonder why they didn't shoot us and be done with it. Yeah, I wonder. Hey, where are we now? Any idea? No, but I seem to remember taking a long ride last night after we left the truck. I wonder what time it is. I don't know. It's still dark, though. Yeah. Hey, Wilson, I've been wondering. I heard one of them thugs call you dick and copper when they were scrapping with you. Copper? When they were scrapping with you? Are you a copper? Well, kind of one, yeah. Just trying to get a line on what's going on in this tape outfit. Yeah. But how in heck did that guy know it was me? Did Tate know what you are? No. Nobody knew about me working for Tate but me and my boss. Hey, wait a minute. What? Right after I got the job, I phoned my boss and somebody in the next phone booth overheard what I told him. Boy, they trapped me neat as you please. They probably was afraid of you. Looks like it. Well, the first thing to do is to get out of here. Well, I've been working at the ropes that got my tied hands tied together with and I can't budge them at all. They're too tight for me. Well, I think maybe I can get mine loose if I have time. I think my boss taught me several tricks to get out of ropes like this. Yeah, she'll have to get us out of this one then. I can't hold it, Matt. Yeah, somebody's coming. Time we got that red-headed punk waked up. Bosses do any minute now. With pleasure. Come on, you. Leave me a sister to a chair. Sorry you can't walk by yourself tied up like that, but that wouldn't be etiquette. Come on, come on. Cut the comedy. Wake up, you. Come on, copper. Get them eyes open. Oh, hey, what's the matter? Hey, what's he's trying to do? There you are, Mike. You want me to soften him up for you? Let's see if he talks first. Maybe he'll talk without any persuading. Well, okay, but I hope he needs some waking over. I enjoy that. All right, punk. You gonna talk? Talk about what? There's no use stalling him. We know your Nick Carter's man. Well, if you know that, what does he want me to say? We know your cold Carter yesterday before you left New York. What'd you say to him? What'd you tell him? Hey, I know you. You're the guy who wore the phony state troopers uniform when you held us up last night. Yeah? Well, no one that ain't gonna help you, none. Come on, spill it. How much do you know? Okay, he ain't gonna talk, Mike. It's gotta be a real job. I gotta go to work on him. Yeah, I guess you're right, Jake. Go ahead, make it good. Sure. Oh, let me take me coat off first so I don't feel cramped. Let me have it. I'll put it on the back of the chair. Thanks, Mike. Oh, you better put my gun in the pocket of my coat so they won't get in my way when I really get going. Okay. Now, let's see some action. All right, you red-headed stool pigeon. Now spill it. Spill it all around. What the... Come on, Jake, there's trouble out there. That's a funny one. Matt, do you see what I see? What do you mean? Jake left his coat hanging in the back of that chair there. There's a gun in the pocket of that coat. Oh, boy, what a break if we can only get loose. Just a minute. My hands are almost free. Good. Wait a minute. There. Now, I get the feet loose. Yeah. Yeah, that does it. Now the gun. Now let me come back. Hey, what's that? Drop that gun. You're covered. Oh, yeah? Well, this will show you. Oh, yeah, what was it? Here. Oh, you killed me. You killed me. You got him, Wilson. Get me a lotion. I'll give you a hand. They'll be back in here. Right. The gun is empty. Gee, we're in a spot. He killed the boss. Come on. Yeah, the boss is dead. I'm getting out of here. Yeah, let's get going. Listen, listen, listen. There we go. Yeah. There. There you are, Matt. Oh, gee. Thanks, Wilson. Gosh, am I glad to get out of them ropes. Hey, Matt, this is the screwiest thing I ever heard of. Yeah. Why do you suppose they beat it off like that? You got me. But come on, let's get out of this place. They might come back as fast as they went out. Okay, give me a chair. I'll break this door down for you. Okay. Gosh, Matt. There he is on the floor, the boss. And two holes through his forehead. You sure hit him square in the boson. Wait till I take off his mask and see if I know... Matt. What? It's Mr. Tate. Who? The owner of the trucking company. Mr. Tate. Yeah. Tate racketeering his own business? Attacking his own trucks? But that doesn't make sense, Matt. Boy, I'll say it doesn't. Why should he want to destroy his own business? Then why would he ask it to investigate the... Hey, we got to get out of here. But we're going to get our... There may be some more of them in there. Can you see them? Yeah. Hold our state troopers. It's okay, Matt. Don't shoot. We're coming out. Get that door open before they shoot. We surrender. Get your hands up. I got two here, man. What's the back of the house? Right, Sergeant. Oh, gosh, are we glad to see you. Yeah, keep your hands up. Oh, yeah, sure, sure. Look, I'm Scubby Wilson and this is Matt Steiger. I'm Nick Carter's assistant. You look it. Who's the dead man lying there? Oh, that's Mr. Tate. I just shot him. Oh, you did. That'll send you to the chair all right. Oh, no. No, you don't understand. He's the chief of the hijackers. Well, he was holding us prisoners here. That's a good one. Where's the gun you killed him with? Well, I... It's in the other room. Keep your hands up. But officer, you don't... I suppose you're gonna tell me you shot him in self-defense, huh? Yeah, that's just what I did. Well, look, you could ask Matt here. That's right, officer. He was gonna kill a spoon. Yeah, sure, sure. Where's the gun he was gonna kill you with? Oh, well, it was in his hand when I saw it last. Well, it ain't here now. You're a bum liar, Fuller. I suppose that after you shot him between the eyes, killing him instantly, he walked over to the window, threw his gun away, and then came back here, lay down and died. Oh, but... But, gosh, officer, I saw him. Put your hands out. Huh? What? Put your hands out. How about you care to put handcuffs on me? No, watch me. Be sure they're on good and tight, son. I will, that... Nick! Nick! Oh, hello, scuppy. Having a good time? You know this guy, Mr. Cutter? Does he know me? Oh, tell him who I am, Nick. Yes, sergeant. I'm afraid I have to confess that I do know him. He's my assistant. Although he hasn't been much of an assistant in this case. Shall I let him go, then? Yes, yes, I'll take charge of him. Okay, if you say so. Oh, gosh, Nick, am I glad to see you. Oh, this is Matt Stiger, the guy who was driving the truck I was on. Hello, Mr. Cutter. Glad to know you. Hey, look, I heard some shooting a few minutes ago. Did you get some of the gang? Yes, scuppy. Morgan and four men. They ran their car off the road and caught them all. Morgan's pretty badly wounded, but he pulled through. So, Morgan was in on it after all? Morgan was the head of the gang. Oh, no. No, Morgan wasn't the head of the gang, Nick. The head of the gang is lying there, dead. And I shot him. Put two bullets in him in self-defense. Who is he? You know him? Know him. It's Mr. Tate. Mr. Tate? Oh, he had nothing to do with this. He sure did, Nick. Well, he was holding us prisoners here. Sure, Matt can tell you. That's true, Mr. Cutter. He tried to kill Wilson and Wilson shot him. I tell you, Tate had nothing to do with this gang, scuppy. Oh, what makes you so sure, Nick? I did a lot of investigating in town today. And I found that Morgan's been trying to borrow money anywhere and everywhere he could to take advantage of what he called a chance to get going, uh, good business. Dirt cheap. Well, that obviously meant Tate's business. Especially since the $40 a truck the racketeers asked was unquestionably intended to drive Tate out of business rather than to get the money out of him. But Morgan was one of the drivers who got beaten up, Nick. Who said so? Morgan. Nobody else knew anything about it. And it gave him a swell alibi. I think that Regan, the driver who was killed the other day, probably was shot because he recognized Morgan. But Nick, everything you say about Morgan could have been true of Tate just as well. Not quite, scuppy. I found out several other things during my investigation today that proved definitely that Morgan's the one. But Nick, I shot Tate not five minutes ago. Well, he was trying to kill me. I wonder. You shot him five minutes ago. How does that happen that he's been dead for at least three hours? Dead for three hours? No question about it. Rigor Mortis has already begun to set in. He's got me. Somebody's put one over on you. Well, what do you mean, Nick? Where's the gun you shot him with? Oh, the trooper took it. Yeah, that's right. Here it is, Mr. Cutter. Thanks. Look here. How does it happen that you shot him with blank cartridges? Oh, Nick, now don't say it. Now, here are the shells I just took out of that gun you used. Four of them had been fired previously. And you can see that the other two, the two left for you to fire, have had the bullets pried out of them. Now, you see the mark on the edge of the shell? Yeah, so you couldn't have shot him. But, Mr. Cutter, I saw Wilson plug him. I saw him fall and dead as the door closed behind him. There's no question about it. There's no question, but what you thought you saw that. But it was all planned, just that way. Planned? Certainly. How come you were able to get out of the ropes you were tied up with so fast? How come there was nobody in the room when you got hold of the gun? Why do you suppose that gun was left where you could get your hands on it? That is what happened, isn't it? Yes, Nick. As right as if you'd been here to see it. It couldn't have been any other way. Tate probably had a hunch Morgan was guilty and trailed him here. Morgan caught him, shot him with his gun. Then he wiped his prints off it, and he planted it where you could get at it. Then at the psychological moment, Morgan, with a mask over his face, opened the door so you could see him and shot at you. Then you shot at him as he knew you would, using the two shells he had left in the gun for you. The two shells with no bullets in them. Then he pretended to fall dead, carefully shutting the doors. He did so so that you couldn't see what happened next. Oh, I see, Nick. And then he put Tate's body there by the door with a mask over his face. Right. Gosh. When you opened the door, there was Tate's body shot through the head with a very gun you held in your hand, a gun on which the police would find your fingerprints and yours only. Morgan would have made sure they found it. Boy, what a setup. It was perfect. Matt would have had to swear he saw me do it, and I was so completely fooled that why I would have confessed to the murder in any court in the country. Yes, Gabby. You still trust too much to what you hear and see. Before you can be a really first-class detective, you'll have to learn to distrust everything until you've analyzed it in the light of all the evidence. This has been another of the strange adventures of Nick Carter, Master Detective, which are brought to you regularly at this time by W.O.R. Mutual. Well, Nick, what about next week's story? Can you give us a hint? Next week, my story concerns a murderer who killed his victims according to the sign of the Zodiac under which they were born. A very unpleasant and dangerous man, I might add. Yes, definitely. Fatsy and I got so close in his trail that he tried two different times to get rid of us. But in his attempts to be very clever, he made a bad mistake and Nick caught him. And caught the murderer, too, I imagine. Quite right. After a chase. I call the story the horoscope murders. So long. See you next week. So long. So long to you, Nick and Fatsy. In the strange adventure you have just heard, Nick Carter was impersonated by Lon Clark, Fatsy by Helen Chote, Scubby by John Kane. Original music was played by Lou White. The entire production was written and directed by Jock McGregor. Next week at the same time, listen to another curious experience of Nick Carter entitled The Horoscope Murders. For Nick Carter and the mystery of the avenging astrologer. This story is a copyrighted feature of Street and Smith Publications Incorporated. The return of Nick Carter is produced in the studios of W.O.R. and is broadcast over most of these stations every Saturday evening at 7 o'clock Eastern War time. And don't forget that the adventures of Nick Carter's adopted son, Chick Carter, are broadcast over most of these stations Mondays through Fridays at 5.30 p.m. Eastern War time. This is Mutual.