 The Adventures of Sam Spade Detective, brought to you by Wild Root Cream Oil Heratonic, the non-alcoholic heratonic that contains linoleum. Wild Root Cream Oil, again and again the choice of men and women and children too. Oh Sam, I'm so glad you called. Why? Somebody killed? Yes. Well, do you know who did it? Yep. That's good. No, that's bad. If I wish I didn't know who killed who. I don't understand. Oh Sam, you sound so downhearted. Well, I'm sorry. I'll try to loosen up. Stay where you are, sweetheart. I'll be right down to dictate my report on the champion caper. Dashel Hammett, America's leading detective fiction writer and creator of Sam Spade, the hard-boiled private eye, and William Spear, radio's outstanding producer, director of mystery and prime drama, join their talents to make your here stand on end with The Adventures of Sam Spade. Presented by the makers of Wild Root Cream Oil for the Hair. Before bringing you tonight's mystery, I'm going to take 28 seconds to tell you something that isn't a mystery. It's no mystery why so many millions of men, women, and children have well-groomed hair these days when America's favorite hair tonic, Wild Root Cream Oil, costs so little. Just 25 cents will buy you a get acquainted bottle and show you how neatly and naturally Wild Root Cream Oil grooms your hair, how it relieves annoying dryness and removes loose, ugly dandruff. Get Wild Root Cream Oil Hair Tonic. Again and again, the choice of men and women and children, too. And now with Howard Dove starring as Spade, Wild Root brings to the air the greatest private detective of them all in The Adventures of Sam Spade. Is it either? Stop that. It's time you think I'd be acclimatized to all kinds of human storms. I've got my pencil all ready. I myself again. I'm ready, Sam. To date, August 7th, 1949, to...to whom, Sam? Jack Minnelli. To Detective Lieutenant Minnelli. I'm going to tell Sam a tale police. From Samuel Spade License, number 1, 2, 7, 5, 9, 6. Subject...are you listening, sir? Subject the champion caper. Dear Minnelli, you were there for the end of it and I was there for the start of it, which is in the reception office of Elliott Champion's brokerage house in San Mateo and where I first met Milford Champion. Remember that old salve how a woman in love is always beautiful? When I went in, I had no idea she was in love and no idea she was beautiful. Not because she'd lately been crying, but her shallow face without makeup, framed in a wisp of blonde hair, wasn't flattered by the shapeless black dress, cotton stockings and low-heeled shoes she was wearing. Certainly not the going idea of beauty. Nor did her conversation reveal anything to indicate love. May I help you? Mr. Elliott Champion, my name's Spade. Spade. S-P-A-D-E? You don't have to write it. He's expecting me. Your business, Mr. Spade? Private. I have to have a little more than that, I'm afraid. Always this hot here? Mr. Champion can't stand fresh air. Obviously. That's what makes it so warm in here. I'm sorry. Yeah, it is hot. Just flip the sweatshirt and tell him I'm here. Well, what is it, Mildred? I was just going out. Mr. Spade is here. Says you're expecting him. But I don't find him listed in your appointment book. Don't be an idiot. Send him in. Send him in. You may go in now, Mr. Spade. He always liked her? He's nice today. Sorry, Mildred. His office is the first on the right. Don't bother. I'll find it. Thank you. I'll just go to lunch. Mr. Champion? Well, don't just stand there. Come in and shut the door. What I have to discuss with you is private. I don't want that snoopy niece of mine listening to our conversation. She's not at the lunch now, but does she listen then often? All the time. Why? She didn't know who I was. I outsmarted her there. I called you from the drugstore on the corner. I don't want anyone to know who you are, why you're here. Oh, now, where did I put that lighter? Behind the inkwell. Oh, yeah. I'm a dangerous man to play games with. Joseph's found that out once, and if he keeps this business up, he's going to find it out again. No games? You're dangerous. Say, are you mocking me, Spade? Just wondering what you're talking about. I just told you, you've got ears, haven't you? Joseph's is back in town, and I'm not going to fool around with him. Mildred told me you were nice today. Oh, she did, didn't she? Well, Mildred talks too much. And you'd fire her, only she's your niece, and you'd have to pay somebody else three times what you pay her to take everything she has to take. Get out of my office. Oh, no, no. Wait a minute, Spade. It's just hot, I guess. Who has turned on the heat? It's Joe Joseph's. He was released from San Quentin this week, and I've been receiving telephone calls from him telling me to beware and to watch out in a lot of other nuns. What was he doing at San Quentin? Two to five on an embezzling count. He's done great for scoundrel, that's what he is. I took him into my office as a junior executive, and six months later... He got tired of the $20 a week you were probably paying him and decided to dip into the bin. Only he did a bad job, got caught, you testified against him, now he's out and he's sore, and he's threatening you. And every time you yell cop around this town, there's always some snoopy reporter hanging around the sergeant's desk. Ain't that the truth? Listen, Spade, I've got a half a million dollars tied up in this business, and I don't want anybody thinking I might get knocked over by some loony with a grudge. And that's why you didn't tell the police? Don't you believe me? That'll do for now, you'll think of something better. Now, see here, impertence is one thing... 25 a day and... no. That'll be 45 a day in expenses. I want you to find Joe Joseph's and bring him to me. No sense war? More than that. I've got enough stuff in that desk drawer to send him back to Quentin, if I have to. Oh, what kind of stuff? Left over from his trial. It'll be grand larceny this time, and they don't stop at five years for that kind of thing. You withheld evidence? I withheld... Get out! My back was only eight feet from the window, and it came through from the other building across the court. The silence had either ruined the marksman's aim or he was just a bad shot, because out of six tries, he didn't connect with the thing with the desk lamp and a wastebasket. By that time, Champion and I were both on the floor, Champion on top of me. I kicked out to get loose, and he kicked me back. I gave that up and pushed it around for my gun. Across the court, a window was open, about six inches, one corner of which was full of a dark-sleeved hand and a gun arm. I fired at it from what is known as number six position. It's him! It's him! Get him to slave! Get him to slave! What do you think I hired you for? I didn't bother to answer him. I went through the window, out of the fire escape, and over to the next building. I did more. I went in that building, which was apparently vacant, down the stairs, and started out the back entrance. Hey, hey, hey! Go on, sorry. Watch it, watch it, will you? What's a big hurry? Hey, he came out of this building. Which way did he go? Who came out of what building? This building, right here, just a second ago. Here? Yes. Who? Him. Who? The guy who just ran down these stairs. What do you look like? Well, what do you look like? I say, what do you look like? Huh? Who? What? Where? Thanks. Don't miss it, Curly, anytime. I couldn't tell her what he looked like because I hadn't seen him. After a careful search of the building, which revealed nothing, I decided my suspect had eluded me for good and I returned to the office of Elliot Champion. He was sitting on his green leather chair wearing an expression to match. Missed him, huh, Spade? What does Joseph's look like? Oh, I've got a couple of snapshots here somewhere. Oh, yes, here. Let's have a look. I was later to regret having those snapshots in my person. They showed a tall, thin-faced, haunted-looking guy, an old-looking 28, good-faced, shock of black hair and dark eyes. I've seen plenty of cons and bezel-type and he wouldn't have been cast in a part in my movie. There was nothing above him to indicate that he'd embezzled $2,000. He used a silencer on a gun. I dug 238 slugs out of Champion's wall and went down to the street. Spade, oh, Spade! He was a heavy-set man in a dirty white Panama hat and seersucker suit that didn't fit him around the middle. Just a minute, Spade, just a minute. He crawled out of a black sedan, jammed a cigar in his mouth and began sweating. He needed a shave. He'd always need a shave. Hot afternoon, ain't it? Yes, it sure is hot, sure is a hot afternoon. Here, here's my card. Lemuel Drigger, confidential investigations. Yes, I should oughta have some new ones printed up, huh? I guess you should oughta, Lem, and change the name while you're at it. Huh? Didn't he commission a boncha nine years ago for rolling a pack before you did the booking? Oh, let bygones be bygones, Spade. I'm in business for myself. Now who's business, Lem? Punk. Try another racket, Lem. Spade, you been in to see Old Man Champion, maybe? Maybe. I was just gonna go in to see him myself when I spot you pull up. I recognized you from the pictures in the paper last week. I figure maybe you and me oughta talk. What did you figure you and me maybe oughta talk about, Lem? Oh, you make it tough for a guy, Spade. We're in the same business, you know. What'd you go see him about? So long, Lem. Hey, wait a minute. I'm an old gumboot, huh? That old gumboot who couldn't get a trick as a housekeeper or tailing a punk, is that it? Okay, Spade, okay. You're full of vinegar now, but just you keep my card. You'll want to see Lem Drigger before it's all tied up. You'll want to see me. Scroll, Lem. But he was right. I did want to see him because when I got down to the Chronicle office and looked up a morgue on the Joe Joseph's trial, the first thing that jumped out at me was the name Lemuel Drigger. Lemuel Drigger, private detective who had been employed when Mr. Champion had become suspicious of Joseph's account irregularities. And who together with Mr. Champion caught Joseph's red-handed and who willingly offered his testimony the same at the trial which convicted Joe Joseph to San Quentin for five years. The file also gave the name of Joseph's lawyer, a man named Anthony Speiser. The phone book showed an apartment address on Geary. Just trying to get dinner over before you showed up, but I guess I'm late tonight. Who are you? Mr. Speiser? That's right. My name's Spade. I'm a private investigator. I'm trying to locate a former client of yours, a man named Joseph's. Come in. Come in. I was expecting Aggie, but come in. Thanks. I always fix bone dinner, poached egg, and half and half. Ulcers. Name's Spade? Yeah. Want an egg? No, thanks. I'm on duty. Mind if I finish? It's up to you. Who's your client, Spade? Elliott Champion. Joe Joseph is back in town, and he's been making telephone threats and throwing 38s around. 38s, eh? Mm-hmm. You know where he is? Joe was a nice kid, but a calendar job. Born with one war going on, a depression on deck, and another war on the whole. Makes a difference. The calendar got him. Everything was against him at the trial, too. I couldn't do anything. He thought I let him down and told me so. He got real sore when they read the book at him. Threatened champion and that private dick, uh... Lem Drigger. Drigger and everybody else. Said he was railroaded. You were his attorney? I know, I know, but he didn't have a chance in a million of beating that rap. He thought I ratted when I took the guilty plea in court's mercy. All for a lousy two grand. Well, he's done his time, and he's out now. He hasn't gotten in touch with you? Nope. No threats? Nope. Have a right to you from prison? Nope. Any idea where he'd be in town? Nope. Well, he has a mother. Nope. Then I guess I'll leave you to Aggie. We play records. Aggie used to be a violinist. Well, it's up to her. Uh, Spade. Uh, Spade. Yeah? If you find Joe, tell him where I live. I'd like to see him. Why? I don't know. Maybe I just want to see what five years in the pen does to a kid like that. Yeah. I'll bet you do. Yeah? Who's this? This is Mildred Champion. Remember me in my uncle's office? I remember. Mr. Spade, you're looking for Joe, aren't you? I know you are. You don't have to answer me. I think I can help you find him. I must talk to you right away before something terrible happens. Please come out to the house before something terrible happens. It's right in the corner. I got out to the house as fast as I could, but not before something terrible had happened. Spade! Spade! The front door was open and all the lights were on and Elliott Champion was lying at the foot of the stairs in the front hall holding his lapel as if it would get away from him. Don't try to move me. It's in my lung somewhere and I... I never thought... It didn't look like they'd be much use, but I beat it up the stairs to the hall phone to call emergency ambulance. Hello? Hello? What the... This is Joe. So you hired a private eye to look me up, huh? Well, he'll never find me, but I'll find you. Yeah, Mr. Champion, I'll be seeing you real soon. I didn't get it then, but I got it a second later. I grabbed for the banister, missed and hit the top railing. A pair of hands held me up long enough to go through my pockets and then let me go and that's the last thing I remember. The makers of Wild Root Cream Oil are presenting the weekly Sunday adventure of Dashel Hammett's famous private detective, Sam Spade. Oh, here's important news on good grooming. If you want the well-groomed look that helps you get ahead, socially and on the job, listen. Recently, thousands of people from coast to coast who bought Wild Root Cream Oil for the first time were asked, how does Wild Root Cream Oil compare with the hair tonic you previously used? The results were amazing. Better than four out of five who replied said they preferred Wild Root Cream Oil. Remember, non-alcoholic Wild Root Cream Oil contains lanolin. It grooms the hair naturally, relieves dryness and removes loose, ugly dandruff. So if you want your hair to be more attractive than ever before, get the generous new 25-cent size of Wild Root Cream Oil, America's leading hair tonic, one sale at all drug and toilet goods counters. It's also available in larger economy bottles and the handy new tube. By the way, smart girls use Wild Root Cream Oil too, and mothers say it's grand for training children's hair. Yet, Wild Root Cream Oil, again and again, the choice of men and women and children too. Now back to the champion caper, tonight's adventure with Sam Spade. The neighbors had complained of gunshots, which was fortunate for me. I still might have been lying at the bottom of those stairs in Champion's House, Lieutenant. If you hadn't walked in, applied first aid, asked me my name and listened to my story. You considered the threatening phone call after my client's death as a cover-up and promptly sent out a general alarm on Joe Joseph's. I took an aspen and a taxicab for home. Halfway uptown, I discovered the pictures of Joe Joseph's were missing from my wallet. And that is why I was absent at the medical examiner's inquest this morning. After going home, I went out to San Mateo, jimmied the lock of Champion's Office and violated city ordinance number 352B. My dead client's desk revealed one important item, an income tax voucher dated August 17, 1944, noting him delinquent. Then I found another important item, same for 1943. His secretary's desk was even more interesting. What I found there led me to one, call her home, result, no answer. And two, to revisit attorney Speezer. I found him poaching another egg. What's the idea? Unless it's Badoff and I don't... Oh, Spade. Egg you ever show? Yeah, left early, has to work tomorrow. Oh, it's too bad. What's with you? Still looking for Joe? Yep. Any leads? Wish I could help you, Spade. Elliot Champion was shot and killed in his home tonight. No. Is that all you have to say? Go do it. Maybe. You don't seem scared for a mouthpiece Joe didn't like. If you mean should I be next? No, I'm not scared, Spade. The kid should realize that this time I liked him and did all I could. You've been here all evening? Aggie. Could you prove it? Yep. You may have to. Did you know Mildred Champion was married to Joe Joseph? Yeah. How'd you know? It's a secret. I found this marriage license in a desk drawer. No, sir. I found something else. A lot of people didn't pay his income taxes all the time. A lot of people are like that, Spade. Me, I... Lim Drigger testified against Joe at the trial, so did Champion. Mildred worked in the office, but she didn't testify. Wife can't testify against husband. Real good stories, Spade, but what about Joe? Champion had something on Lim Drigger and Drigger had something on Champion. Joe's in between. You tell me, huh? Huh? All right, I'll tell you. It's all about a green kid hired into a brokerage firm and a phony embezzling charge to cover up a tax delinquency. You want to finish it? I can't. I don't know it. You've got ideas, though. Yeah. Yes, Spade, you're right. I've got ideas. And all of them make me sick inside. That kid stood there and told me it was innocent. He said it a million times if he said it once. And he told me he thought Champion was short with the income tax people. And if Champion was short, he could phony up a book and get a worn-out private detective like Drigger to testify that there'd been a fraud and Joe takes the rap. If that's what happened, they did it pretty good. Did you mention anything like this at the trial? Sir, my eyes is not admissible. There was no way to investigate it and no way to prove it. Joe was a nice kid, Spade, and he told a good story. I've been fooled a lot of times. What do you think? I haven't met him yet. All right, he's done his five years. He came out. Now they want him for killing the man who sent him up. His whole life's gone. And for what? Spade, I hope you don't find him. I hope nobody ever finds him. But we did find Joe Joseph's lieutenant. He was right under our noses all the time. When I called you, you told me to come on down to the morgue of the county hospital. We both stood and looked at Joe Joseph's. It's a funny thing, Sam. We had an alarm out for an hour on this guy. We've been looking all over for him, and he turns up right here. And he's dead. He's been dead since last night, about seven. Seven? Same time champion was killed. TB just got the whole story. Had it all for bad in prison on the sick ward his last two years. We wanted it all for bad. When his time was up last week, he made him release him. But he wound up here, died in the hospital. He looks awful young to be a con and all. I don't know, Sam, he's just a kid, isn't he? Up until then, you had some kind of case against Joe Joseph's. But when the medical examiner reported that my client had been shot with a 32, the rest of it began to fall into place. Len Driggers' office was a dirty room over a shoe repair shop on Mission Street. The glass on the door hadn't been washed in five years, and neither did anything else. You can hardly tell where the office left off, and Len began. Oh, hello, Spade. I have been waiting for you. I thought you'd get over for some talk talk. What makes you think that, Len? Well, you're here, ain't you? All right, let's make talk talk. Did the silencer ruin your gun? Come on, come on, I want it all. Your phone tonight after champion was killed. You've been phoning him right along saying it was Joe. No, just a minute, Spade. We're in the same room. You shot at him with a silencer on your 38 this afternoon to make it look real good. You can't prove anything. I didn't kill him. One slug out of your gun will match that up. Every cop carries a 38. You were a cop once. No, Spade, you got this all wrong, Len. It's funny, then, because you thought he'd called you in for protection. He called you in once on another job. Listen, I know what you think. And this was so bad, you had to drum it up, didn't you? Joseph was released from prison, and it was unnatural. Only it didn't work. Champion called me instead, and you tried to shake me down. Well, I only thought we could kind of work together. You know, make it a good thing. I told you once you should try another racket. But you didn't take my advice. Now you're going to have to. What do you mean? Because your license will be revoked pretty quick. You got into a lot of trouble about two minutes from now. I did? I was right here. What are you trying to do? I swore out a complaint on you for assault and batter. Hey, wait a minute. I ain't done nothing to you. Champion's dead. Yes, you did, Len. You tried to strike me, and I had to defend myself. And I did make out a complaint, Lieutenant. I phoned your office, and two of your men were on their way out to pick them up when I heard a footstep outside the door. I knew who was there and what she was there for, and I did the only thing I could think of at the moment. And it was lucky I did it. Her own 32 was in her hand when she came in the door. She looked at me and Len's smoking gun in my hand, looked at him, stressed out on the floor, then she looked back at me, and the gun fell from her hand and she began to cry. Hello, Mildred. I wanted to do it. I came here to do it. I know. Why? Why did you? To stop you. Why? My bullets went into the ceiling. He's just knocked out. No. No, he ought to be dead. Dead. Uh-uh. No. No, no. Not any more, Mildred. You tricked me. You knew I was coming here, and you know he should die. You know it. That won't bring Joe back. How many real tramps have you met in your life, Mr. Spade? Lots. And some who just thought they were. Well, you met the genuine product yesterday. My uncle, for example, he stole money from himself and made it look like Joe did it. I know about that. And this one? Why didn't you let me kill him, too? Why? Easy, easy. I went over to see him in the hospital the first time. I knew he was dying. He had that look in his eyes. Helpless. And he knew what they'd done to him, and he couldn't do anything about it. But you figured that you could. So you killed your uncle when you found out Joe died, and you came here to kill him. They killed him. They killed Joe when they sent him to prison. Five years I waited for him to get out of that awful place. I waited to hold him in my arms and tell him it was all over. Five years I waited to help him forget his hate, my hate. Five years I loved him so much every day. Then he came back to me the way it is. Those pictures were all I had left of him after five years of waiting, loving him. Now he's dead. What can you or I or anybody do about what they've done to him? Look at me, Mr. Spade. Go ahead, look at me. I'm not what you'd call beautiful. I'm not even very pretty. Nobody would ever look at me twice. Well, Joe looked at me, and he loved me. Now he's dead, and I'm dead inside. I'm dead inside, and I'll be glad when I'm dead outside. And a report. Oh, Sam, there was someone happy. Yeah, I had a notation that I won't be around for the coroner's inquest. Sam, you can't do it. This report, when Dilley knows her eyes should be admissible as testimony, I'm going to get out of town for a few days. Sour ragged. And now, listen to this. Later this evening, if you happen to stroll down to the corner for cigarettes or ice cream, make up some wild root cream oil hair tonic. Your whole family will like the way wild root cream oil grooms the hair neatly and naturally, relieves dryness, and removes loose dandruff. And ask your barber for a professional application of wild root cream oil hair tonic. Again and again, the choice of men and women and children, too. Of course you didn't. Are you really serious about getting out of town for a few days? I am. The world's too much with you, huh, Sam? I know it's poetry, Sam. But it seems kind of appropriate right now. I don't care if she did kill those two men. I feel sorry for her. What's that got to do with poetry? What kind of poetic justice? Why did she dress the way she did in that black dress and low heels? A form of penance, I guess. A morning of absence of her missing lover. Lover? Look, you'll have to type it all over if you keep that up. Sam, it's all so beautiful and tragic. And you watched it all happen with such understanding. I'm so proud of you. Oh, Sam. Come on, come on. Dry up and go home. Good night, Sam. Good night, sweetheart. The Adventures of Sam Spade. Dashel Hammett's famous private detective are produced and directed by William Spear. Sam Spade is played by Howard Duff. Lorraine Tuttle is Effie. Tonight's adventure with Sam Spade was written for radio by E. Jack Newman. Directed by Lud Gluskin, with score composed by Renee and Pierre Garagang. Join us again next Sunday when author Dashel Hammett and producer William Spear join forces for another adventure with Sam Spade. Brought to you by Wild Root Cream Oil. 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