 I felt low, very low, the night I set out searching for the girl with the strange hazel eyes. The fog which hung over Los Angeles didn't help, and I felt even worse when I found her. For by then I had death on my hands. From the pen of Raymond Chandler, outstanding author of crime fiction, comes his most famous character as C.B.A.S. presents... The Adventures of Philip Marlowe. And now with Gerald Moore, starred as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's gripping story, The Persian Slippers. One of those thin, chilly fogs that sneaked in from the Pacific and it hung vaguely to the streetlights along the sunset strip. It was a kind of a fog that you could see through, but everything was out of focus. You may just start wondering what you were going to do when you were 90 and you were all alone. I'd have liked to have spent the night in a room full of noisy extroverts playing charades, but instead I had to eat a quick dinner and drive up into the secluded Hollywood Hills to meet a guy. A guy who had nothing but trouble on his mind. When I pushed the buzzer I had the feeling of wishing I was someplace else. Carl Delaney himself opened the door. He was grim and brusque and to the point. Marlowe? That's right. Come in Marlowe. I appreciate this. You're coming up here after business hours. I mean, I wouldn't have asked except, uh, well, perhaps I waited too long as it is. Sit down. Thanks. Waited too long for what, Mr. Delaney? 36 hours ago my wife disappeared. Marlowe, you've got a finder for me. A finder just as fast as you can. Wait a minute. Disappeared, you said. Would you mind playing that part back a little slower? Norma simply walked out that door, got in her car and drove off to get hold of herself as she always does when we've quarreled. And always before she's come back in an hour or so. But this time... This time she simply didn't come back, is that it? Look, Mr. Delaney, I could... You'd better let me finish before you do anything. Lately my wife has been brooding over something, something serious that she refused to discuss. I've caught her crying several times and she's not a woman given to tears. Marlowe, I'm sure that unless we move fast when we do find her, we're going to find her dead. Suicide? Yeah. With his thick blunt hand, Delaney reached for a color portrait lying face down on the table and gave it to me. I looked and saw the face of a dream. A beautiful dream with strange hazel eyes and soft black hair. I felt Delaney watching me as I glanced up in time to catch the fading end of a very ugly expression on his face. I handed the picture back to him and he laid it on the table again, face down. Then he took me upstairs to Norma's room. It was a nice, frilly room, typically haunted by elusive sweet smells. It was only one incongruous note. What was the horoscope doing on her desk? In the looks of a picture, I knew that Norma was attractive enough that she didn't need to look to the stars for a future. A horoscope? Yeah, you know how women are. Marlowe, will you find her for me? I'll try. My rate is $25 a day plus expenses and remember, you hired me to find her and not bring her back. Fair enough, you just find her. I'll be satisfied. I'll need a starting point. Are there any phone calls or letters or anything that might be a lead? What about friends? We have no close friends. Norma always stayed to herself. Wait, there was a phone call yesterday from Madame Jeanette, I think it was. Who's that? A dressmaker? Any idea. She wanted to speak to Mrs. Delaney, I told her Norma was out and she asked that my wife call her when she got back. That's all there was to it. Anything else you can tell me? No. No, it's not much to go on. I'll see what I can do, Mr. Delaney. I'll be here all night, Marlowe. Call me if you need anything. I'll do that. Good night. I drove back through the persistent fog, the sunset boulevard. It was 9.30. I knew it was going to be like tracking a hummingbird through the petrified forest by the bent twigs, but I got a classified directory and I started digging. I checked the hairdressers, the manicurists and the milliners and I was just about to start on the interior decorators when I remembered the horoscope on Norma's desk. I quickly turned to the personal consultants. Yeah, there it was. Madame Jeanette. Her establishment, located in the dubious neighborhood south of Old Vera Street, turned out to be a tacky cottage set back next to an alley. It was as dark inside as out. I was pounding on the door like a vampire at sunrise when a news boy came up the path. Looking for Madame Jeanette? Yeah, yeah, you know her? Sure, she tells fortunes. She says I've got a great career line. You want to see it? Not right now, thanks. And I'll say for her that she's a sound sleeper. Maybe, but not so early as this. But this time she's always hanging around that bar on the corner. Tonight she's throwing a farewell party in there. Farewell party, who for? As self, she's leaving town. Ah, thanks a lot. Here, kid. Gee, a buck. My old man'll swear up and shootin' crap again. Give me another one, Charlie. Not every night. I say goodbye to my dear old neighborhood. Muscatel again, Jeanette? Yeah. Did I say dear old neighborhood, Charlie? I think you did, Jeanette. Must've had one too many then. Because of all the low, flea-bitten, raw shacks I ever lived in, this is the new low. Ah, Jeanette, that's no way to talk. You hurt my feelings. Pinky. There ain't nothin' like a little beer to soothe hurt feelings. Yeah, you said it. Jeanette, can I have another? Yeah. Charlie, give Pinky another. This is his last. The last? I thought you said it was a farewell party. Eh, you and all your dough. This dough's to get me out of this rat trap of a town, see? It's the last I wanna see out of it in all my life, see? Yeah, yeah, yeah, we see. Another muscatel, Charlie. Eh, hold on a minute, Jeanette. Hey, what'll it be, mister? Something just a bit drier than muscatel. Say, Scotch? It's on me, mister. It's my party. Well, well, this is indeed a pleasure. You're the madam, Jeanette, aren't you? Yeah, why? You're all of 20 years younger than what I expected. Probably the life I lead. Hey, wait a minute. Why should you be expecting anything about me? I don't know you. Perhaps not, but I know you. From where? Oh, you're more famous than you think. Your reputation has spread far beyond Alvera Street. In fact, it's gone up as far as the sunset strip, madam, Jeanette. No kidding. How would you kid a fortune teller? Don't you know all, see all, and tell all? Well... And judging from that Spanish shawl, your Hungarian skirt and those embroidered Persian slippers, I'm beginning to think your fame is not only local, but international. Say, you're beginning to make me feel like I shouldn't be giving up this racket after all. Giving up fortune telling? No. Yeah. I'm leaving town on a midnight train. Gonna spread my talents all over the east, and I'm not coming back. Don't tell me your crystal ball is laid a golden egg. So to speak, yeah. I come into some lettuce. Suddenly. That's always nice. Well, I guess it means you won't be interested in the few poultry dollars I'd intended to spend with you. Hey, can I have another beer, Jeanette? Shut up, pinky blow! Ah, just a... A traveling lady can always use a little extra moola. What was it you wanted, bud? I'm looking for someone. Norma Delaney. Norma de... I'm afraid I don't know anybody by that name. I'm afraid you do. What's your angle? Who are you, anyway? I'm Philip Marlowe, private detective. Some private dick you must be to have to resort to fortune tellers. Come on, Jeanette. Look into your crystal muscatels heaving in spot Norma Delaney. I told you once. I don't know the name. Now blow! Just a minute, dark eyes. Hey, Charlie! Yeah? This bird's crabbing my party. What kind of a joint is this, anyway? A lady can't sit here and have a farewell party without being insulted by every jerk that drops in? Well, mister... I haven't finished my drink yet. You got pockets, ain't you? Just pour a drink into one of them and take it along. You ain't finishing it here. Charlie reached under the bar for his pick handle. So I left without pursuing the subject further. But I knew Jeanette was lying, writing a purple lipstick about Norma. I walked back to my car with a cigarette and spent a few precious minutes trying to decide whether or not to break into her place and snook. Then I caught the shadow of a figure slipping up on me from behind. I turned... Wait, wait! Don't swing! Don't swing! I was in the bar when you were talking to the madam. That tight watch, Jeanette. Yeah, I saw you saw. She did something the minute you left. I figured you might like to know what it was. That all depends. Well, I thought it might be worse something to you like a saw, maybe? Come on, you! Spill it! Wait a minute! Spill it! If it's any good at all, it's worth a five or no more. All right, all right. She... She made a phone call. Who, too, what'd she say? Nothing. Just some swear words in Spanish. The line was busy. But I kept my eyes open and I got the number. All right, let's have it. If you can still remember it. Oh, I can remember easy. Five or first, huh? Here. Thanks. The number was Crenshaw1929. Did you get it? Like the year of the big crash. Thanks to the thirst of an underweight lush, I wasn't at the end of my rope yet. I drove as far as the nearest drug store dropped a nickel in the slot and dialed. Crenshaw, the year of the big crash. Hello, let me speak to Norman Delaney, please. I'm afraid you must have the wrong number. Look, you, I'm trying to locate Mrs. Delaney. I suggest you help me. How did you get this number? From a client, Mr. Carl Delaney. But that's impossible. Let's stop sparring. We can save each other a lot of wear and tear if we get together and talk this over. Maybe you're right. Yes, that sounds sensible. I'm at the Beachwood Apartments, number four. Check, I'll be right out. Mr. Pierre Gillum, it says here on the door. Yes. Are you the man who called? Uh-huh, Philip Marlowe. Come in, won't you? You said you were looking for Norman Delaney, Mr. Marlowe. Tell me what's wrong, has anything happened to her? Well, her husband seems to think she might have killed herself, but I have a hunch that you might have something interesting to say. No, poor kid, poor Norma. Well, I'll tell you what I can, Marlowe, but it isn't much. Oh, I'm all ears, and I'll sit, thanks. I was in love with Norma once, briefly, a long time ago. She was a wonderful girl, but her husband was insanely jealous. Even though she hadn't loved him for years, he refused to give her up, even threatened to kill her first. No? Norma and I realized it's serious. Trouble lay ahead, so we parted. Good friends. And I haven't seen her or heard from her in months. I'd buy it all, but the last line. You have seen or heard from her, and recently... I'm not going to argue with that. I've told you the truth, you can take it or leave it. I'll leave it. I suppose we both put our cards in the table. You lied to me when you said Carl Delaney gave you my number. I know, because Madame Jeannette called me shortly after you did. Touche, but why did she run to call you with the mention of Norma's name if you two broke up months ago? And, incidentally, how did that ersatz-erical Jeannette get mixed up in this in the first place? That is a long story, Marlowe. Good, I like long stories. I'll bet it begins just for a lock. Norma and I went down to Alvaro Street once they have our palms read. Yes, that's exactly how it started. Madame Jeannette was an unusual woman. A character, you might say. Well, we became friendly with her. Norma got quite sentimental about her. One day we made a sort of pact. If ever either of us was in trouble and needed the other, we'd go to Madame Jeannette or get a message to her. She would notify the other. So when I walked in asking for Norma, the madam assumed she was in trouble. Right, called me immediately, because she herself was leaving town in less than an hour. I know. Well, Mr. Gilliam, it's all very interesting, but it's getting me no place. Thanks. If I need you again... Oh, no, oh, wait, Marlowe, don't go. I know a lot of details about Norma that I'm sure will be helpful. For instance, she drives a Nash coupé, a part of blue. Part of blue coupé, huh? Thanks, that'll help. Oh, and she has a fondness for white gloves. Wears them quite often. I see, well, I better get moving. No, no, wait just a minute, Marlowe. I've got to go. Listen, Marlowe. I told you I was in a hurry. I'll take it easy, stick around a while. Get away from that door. Well, just who do you think you are? Combusting in here, prying, asking questions. You dirty... Ooh! You'll ask for it, Gilliam. All right. Ooh! You got a left, too, huh? So have I, brother. Ooh! I left Gilliam's sprawl all over his coffee table. His limp is a five-cent salad. Outside, I glanced at my watch. Madam Jeanette's train left in 40 minutes. I ran through 22 bucks worth of red lights getting down to a cottage because I was sure Gilliam's attempted stall was tied in with a departure. But I couldn't figure out why. That is, I couldn't until I switched out my lights and coasted to a stop in front of her place. Then I saw it. Half hidden in the shadows, back of the house, sat a powder-blue coupé. I got up on the porch close to the front door and listened. Jeanette was talking to a woman. I couldn't catch what they were saying, but one thing was certain. The woman was Norma Delaney. All at once, I realized the talk had stopped. That was my cue. I shoved open the door and went in. Jeanette sat at a table alone, facing me. Well, Mr. Marlowe, you've returned. What is it this time? I'd like my fortune told. Yeah? Now, listen close, Gumshoe. I'll make this a short and snappy reading because I'm catching the train in 15 minutes. There's a woman very close to you. In fact, she's right behind you, sucker! What?! When I finally opened my eyes again, nothing changed. It took me a long time to figure out that the lights were off and it was dark. I climbed up the table leg hand-over-hand and switched on a lamp. Jeanette's house was absolutely quiet. I had caught a glimpse of a white glove holding what is known as a blunt instrument just before I dozed off. That reminded me what I was down here for. I wobbled through the kitchen and out the back door, but the part of blue coupe was gone. It was 12.15. My head and the fog both had gotten a little thicker, so I just stood there, useful like a ping-pong ball in a bowling alley. It was the sound of footsteps that finally moved me and the news boy was back. Well, how you again, mister? Did you ever get ahold of Madame Jeanette before she left? Yeah, but not tight enough. Say, a blue coupe left here a few minutes ago. Did you see it? Nope, I didn't. Gee, I'm sure as sorry she went away. She gave me a buck tonight, too. Said she was coming into a fortune. You and your career line... Say, what's that down there in those weeds? It looks like some kind of a shoe. Yeah, it is a shoe. Here, see? What do you know? A Persian slipper. I took the slipper along as a souvenir for my scrapbook and walked back to my car, trying to fit Norma Delaney's lovely hazel eyes in with that crack on the skull. But I couldn't. Between throbs of my headache, I figured Pierre Gillum would know why Norma had dropped in on the madam so close to train time and decided to go back and ask him. Gillum was as reliable as a two-headed quarter and just as tricky. So when I got to his apartment, I stepped back and braced myself. There was no fight left in him. He opened the door in his robe, fingered the mouse I had given him and grinned. Oh. So you found your way out by yourself. Uh-huh. Say, Gillum, what was so important about Norma seeing Madam Ginette just before a train left? I don't know. You knew enough to try to keep me here, to delay me why? Oh, Marlowe, I did that for old times' sake for an old friend. Ginette asked me to hold you here until midnight and I tried my best. Obviously, it wasn't good enough. That's all I know about it. I see your phone is off the hook, you know that? I took it off. It's given me nothing but trouble tonight. I hereby wash my hands of this whole business I'm going to bed. And I hope to sleep. Good night. I envied him and left to call my client, Carl Delaney. He said he'd be in all night, but the phone kept ringing and ringing and no one answered. I suddenly got a very creepy feeling. 20 minutes later, I pulled to a stop at that small but elegant house. The lights were on and I saw the powder blue coupe in the garage next to Carl's big black sedan. I ran up the steps. The front door was ajar so I went in. I found Carl Delaney in front of the fireplace. Faced down on the floor, it dead. There was a handbag on a chair. I opened it, compact cigarettes and a key to room 340 in the Bradford Arms Hotel. No identification. That color portrait of Norma was standing up on the table this time. Those searching hazel eyes seemed to follow me all the way to the telephone. Hey, Barra, speaking. Phil Marlowe, Barra. There's a dead one at 1077 Holycrest Road named Carl Delaney, murdered. I'll be right out. I hung up the phone and then the hair on my neck crawled as I heard the unmistakable sound of a woman's heels on the floor upstairs. I ducked behind the door as the heels clicked down the steps and then she entered the room. Norma Delaney was lovely. As lovely as a picture. She moved calmly and deliberately, put a note on the table, picked up the handbag and then turned to face the door I was hiding behind. You can come out now, Mr. Marlowe. Hello, Mrs. Delaney. You can call me Norma now. And if you're thinking of using your gun, perhaps you'll be good enough to read this note first. Here. To whom it may concern, I, Norma Delaney, purposely and with premeditation, shot and killed my husband Carl. It is beyond me to express how deeply I hated him and since I must pay for this and cannot endure a public spectacle, I shall take my own life within the next few minutes. Now look, Norma, no guns. I'll kill you if necessary, but it would be so pointless now. I'm free at last and I want to spend a little time left in me in my own way. Norma, if you're listening... Stay back. Tonight I made my only friend Madam Jeanette happy and I killed a man who needed killing. Something good. Something bad. So I'm quitting even up. What do you propose to do with me? You mustn't try to stop me, Marlowe. See that closet? Get inside and careful how you move your hands. Turn around to the wall. That's it. Marlowe, I'm sorry I had to hit you with Jeanette's tonight. Goodbye. It took three shots to smash the lock on that closet door. I heard her driving away just as I got it open. In spite of what she'd said, I couldn't let her kill herself. I ran outside to my car. One glance under the hood was all it took. There was nothing left of the wiring but loose ends. I ran into the street and a miracle happened. The first time in my life a taxi in Los Angeles when I wanted it. I'm sorry, fella. I'm gonna call. Skip it. This is an emergency. Hey, wait a minute. You can't... Police business. A girl is driving up the road in a blue coupé. We gotta catch her before she kills herself. Let's go. I think I saw a taillights just then. Yeah. Can't you go any faster? Not on these curves, brother. I got a wife and kids. Okay, fella. We'll be at the top of the hill when we can get around the next bend. Yeah. You can see the whole road down the other side. Here we are, mister. This is the top. But I don't see her. Where is she? Hey, wait a minute. Stop here. Turn off your motor. This is haywire. I don't get it. We were gaining on her and now she just disappears. What's that? A motor. That side road we passed. That's it. Hey, look. Look! Smoke. We both saw the awful sight for just an instant. The part of blue coupé where the woman crouched over the wheel. It shot out of that side road, crashed through the guard rail and fell end over end down into the gorge. By the time we got to the hole in the fence, the wreck was an inferno. No use trying to get down there. The whole hillside will be on fire in another minute. I guess she pulled over here into this side road and waited for us to go by, and we did. Yeah. Sandy here, too. So what if she didn't get stuck? What's the matter? Something buried here in the sand. One of her tires ran over it. What is it? It's plenty, brother. Come on, turn that heck of yours around and let's get off this mountain. I just found the answer to a lot of questions. Yeah, Lieutenant. We found the body and the wife's suicide note. Then one of the boys spotted that fire up on the hill. What is it? A car went off the road. An accident? Or the suicide? Just a little of both, Ibarra, but we'll talk later. Right now we've got to go to the Bradford Arms Hotel on the double, and please, no siren. The Bradford Arms was a three-story walk-up. When we got there, Ibarra stationed one man in front, sent another to cover the back, and we started up the stairs. We had reached the second floor when we saw him on the landing above. Gillum. He spotted us at the same time and turned back fast. There, Marlowe. Who's that? That's our boy, Ibarra. Up here, Gillum. Let's go. There he goes. He's heading for the fire escape. Second lieutenant, he's all yours. I got business the other way. Hey! Room 336, 38. Ah, 340. It's all over now. You better drop the gun. Please, it's been neat so far. Don't mess it up. Come on, beautiful. Drop it. It's better. Well, Marlowe, I got him. I had to wing him to bring him down, but here he is. And the lady must be your... Yes, Lieutenant. The lady is Norma Delaney, the girl who wanted to kill a jealous husband and then commit suicide, but didn't want to die doing it. So she used someone else's body, Madame Jeanette's, which was a logical choice because Jeanette was blackmailing her, thus two vultures with one stone, leaving two lovebirds free to fly away together. Right, Norma? Didn't she give Madame Jeanette money so she'd leave town and tell everybody she was going away? Yes, I did. That way, the body wouldn't be missed, huh? Yeah. Isn't it pretty? I'll lay off, Marlowe. Can't you? Okay, Gillum. Okay. Ellie Bar, I've got a sour taste in my mouth. I think I'll go home and goggle. Anything else you need? No, I guess not. Full of hat oil, it's necessary. Uh, wait. Just one thing. How'd you get inside this setup? How'd you find out it was the dead Madame Jeanette who went over the cliff instead of the very much alive Mrs. Delaney here? Jeanette had on a pair of Persian slippers, Lieutenant. One fell off down at her cottage where Norma murdered her and put her in the trunk of the car. The other one fell off in the sand of that side road when she took Jeanette out of the trunk and propped her up behind the wheel. It was lucky, butter. Just dumb luck. I took a walk later, a long walk, all by myself, through that thin, empty fog in the dark, empty streets. A pair of hazel eyes and a pair of Persian slippers went round and round in my head. And for some reason I kept thinking, a pair of Persian slippers has two soles and two heels. And it's hard to tell just exactly where the one becomes the other. The Adventures of Philip Marlowe, created by Raymond Chandler, stars Gerald Moore and is produced and directed by Norman McDonald. In tonight's story, the Persian slippers, Virginia Gregg was heard as Madame Jeanette, with Larry Dobkin as Pierre Gillum and Louis Van Rooton as Carl Delaney. The additional players were Jean Bates as Norma Delaney, Gil Stratton Jr. as the newsboy, Frank Richards as the barkeep and Tony Barrett as Pinky. Detective Lieutenant Barrow was played by Jeff Corey. The special music was conceived and conducted by Ivan Dittmarz. Be sure to be with us again next week at the same time when Philip Marlowe says... Sounded good, real good. A week-ended Malibu expenses paid with a cash bonus thrown in. But that was before I knew about the henchmen, the redhead and the corpse. These three and a white Panama hat ruined it all for me. The big star-studded array of CBS Sunday shows starts tonight. One, two, three, four, five top entertainment programs that make listening to your CBS station a happy habit. One, Cabin B-13, the popular dramatic show by John Bixen Carr, renowned mystery writer. Two, the new electric theater guest-starring Henry Fonda tonight and regularly starring Helen Hayes, first lady of the theater when she returns from London. Three, Our Miss Brooks, the hilarious comedy success starring Eve Arden. Four, Laman Abner, a brand-new half-hour show of smiles and chuckles with the merchants of Pine Ridge. Five, Strike It Rich, the sensational quiz show with a heart to wind up the sparkling parade of entertainment. Mystery, drama, comedy, excitement tonight over most of these CBS stations. And next Sunday, the first broadcast in the new season for two of radio's greatest stars, Amos and Andy. Yes, Sunday nights are great on CBS. Check your local newspapers for program times. This is Roy Rowan speaking for CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.