 I hope I haven't kept you waiting. Yes, this is the crime club. I'm the librarian. Death swims at midnight. Yes, we have that story for you. Come right over. Take the easy chair by the window. Comfortable? The manuscript is on this shelf. Here it is. Death swims at midnight. The very exciting story of a singular beach where the tide goes out and murder comes in. Let's look at it under the reading lamp. Bill Desmond, the famous private detective and his pint-sized assistant, Maxi Davis, have gone to the resort town of Marbell for a rest. To Maxi's disgust, Bill has dragged him out of bed at seven in the morning to go for a swim. As they stand at the edge of the boardwalk, looking out over the ocean, Maxi blinks his sleepy eyes and then turns to glare at his boss. You mean you expect me to go in there? Oh, I sure am, Maxi. A swim before breakfast is good for the health. For a fish, yeah. Me? I should have stood in bed. Oh, you'll change your mind when you hit that water. Aye, look at how blue it is. How calm. And who knows how cold. I do, gentlemen. What? I do. Yep, the water's cold. Coldest death. Excuse me, but... The kind of scourging? Well, didn't mean to. Name's Atkins. Fuzzy Atkins, they call me. I live in that shack on the old fishing pier. I see. Weren't thinking of doing some fishing, were you? I know. Not this morning. Too bad. Ain't many goes fishing these days. Nope. They got other things to do. Well, yes. Excuse us, Fuzzy. We are going for a swim. Go right ahead. But don't forget. The water's cold these days. Very cold. Mmm. Couraging little fellow, isn't he, Maxine? Yeah, look, Bill. Maybe he's right. The water does look kind of chilly. Let's go back to our hotel. Oh, nonsense. We're going for a swim. Come on. Ah, okay. We'll get down these stairs to the beach. Uh-huh. I still don't see why we couldn't have come down here later. At least we would have had company. We have company, Maxine. Where? Over there. That girl. Oh. She looks rather interesting, doesn't she? She looks like a dame. There are dames, Maxine, and dames. Yeah. And there's trouble and more trouble. Come on, Bill. Let's head for the other end of the beach. And pass that up? Not me. Come on. Let's visit. But, Bill, I... Okay. Oh, and digging in the sand? I don't know. She looks rather old to be making mud pies. Hello. Oh. Oh, I'm sorry if I started you. Well, uh-hmm. How's the water this morning? It's okay, I guess. Hmm. Nice, uh, beach you have here. Getting kind of crowded. Is it? I didn't notice. That's funny. Those odds of yours have been noticing everything else. Well, there's nothing like exercise for the eyes, I always say. Just be careful, they don't get too much. I hear that makes them turn black. Oh, does it? Yeah. Just to give them a rest, I'm going to get out of here. So long. That's the neatest pressure of you ever got. Hmm. Too bad, too. I've always wanted to teach a girl like that how to, uh, swim. Uh, something tells me she don't need no lessons. Maybe not. Well, let's get the water, eh? Um, it's, uh, kind of nice here on the sandbill. What do you say we squat here for a while? Yeah, all right. Oh, uh, watch where you sit down, Maxie. Huh? There's quite a bit of tar on the beach. Oh, yeah. Well, here's a nice spot. Guess I'll just, hey! What's the matter, Maxie? What's the matter? What's the idea of putting your foot under me? Put my foot under you? Not me. Oh, cut it out, will you, Bill? Who do you think you're kidding? But on the level, I swear I didn't. Well, that's funny. Wait a minute, maybe there's something. Hey, it wasn't your foot. It, it's someone else's. What? Yeah, let me see. Maxie, there's someone under the sand. Quick, help me shovel it to one side. Right. I don't know. Just where, but if the feet are down here, I think... Holy smoke! It's a ding. Is she sleeping? Yes. The long, long sleep of death. Did you phone the coroner, Maxie? Yeah, Bill, I'll be right down. Good. Say, Bill, have you figured out what caused her death? Well, there's a nasty bruise on her head, but I'd say she drowned. Drowned? But how did she get under the sand? The how, Maxie, is not so important as the why. Howdy! Howdy, gentlemen. Notice you're digging from up on the pier. Ain't that the clams, are you? Not exactly, Fuzzy. Yeah. Take a look at what we dug up. You know I ain't seen a clam like that for a long time. No, sir. Not like that. Come on, let's stop that. Huh? Who is this girl? Peers to me like Mrs. Dale. Joan Dale. Yep, that's who it is. She's got the big bungalow right opposite my shack on the pier. I see. Fuzzy, did you see that girl who was on the beach when we got here? Yep, sure did. That was Carol Carson. Got the bungalow on the other side of Mrs. Dale. She, uh, she left you in a hurry, didn't she? Yeah, she did. Hey, you don't think that that Carson thing was... I don't think anything yet, Maxie. Uh, Fuzzy, we expect the car in here any minute. Will you watch the body until he arrives? Yep. Sure will. Good. Come on, Maxie. I want to have a look at Mrs. Dale's bungalow. This is quite a layout, huh, Bill? Yes, Maxie. It's, uh, quite cozy. Cozy is right. With a joint like this, even I could learn how to like the beach. Uh, what are you looking for? I don't know. We'll just poke around and see what we can. Ah. What is it? This desk, Maxie. Oh, what about it? I don't see a thing. Take a look at the blotter. So I'm looking. All I see is a lot of numbers. Exactly. It's almost as though someone has been practicing arithmetic. Mm-hmm. And yet there are no papers on the desk. And then the drawers and, uh, let me see. Now, nothing in the waste paper basket either. Uh, maybe... Where are you going? Over the fireplace. You find anything, Bill? Yes. Ashes, Maxie. Ashes. But not only a paper of cloth, too. Cloth? Uh-huh. And to judge by some of the burnt threads that cost cloth. Hello? Not you, Martin? I want to talk to you about... Well, who are you? My name is Desmond, Bill Desmond. This is my assistant, Maxie Davis. Oh, you're the ones who discovered the body, aren't you? Yes. How'd you know? Just left the corner. Oh, I see. I beg your pardon, but, uh, the name Desmond is rather familiar. Familiar, he says. Brother, you're looking at the best private op in the business. Oh, of course. Oh, uh, permit me to introduce myself. I'm Fulton Stokes, Mrs. Dale's attorney. Oh, yes. How do you do? All right. Uh, Mr. Stokes, when you left the corner, had he completed his examination of the body? Yes. He's of the opinion that Mrs. Dale drowned at some time around midnight last night. He thinks it was an accident. Oh. You disagree? Well, I don't know. Yet. Uh, tell me, who is this, uh, Martin you called to when you first came in? Martin Dale, Joan's husband. Do you know where he is? Probably on his cruiser, which is anchored just offshore. Didn't he live here with his wife? Well, uh, no. You see, they'd had a bad quarrel. Joan had the idea that Martin married her for her money. I see. Do you know when they last saw each other? Not exactly, but, uh, she did have an appointment to see him on board his cruiser late last night. Late last night, eh? Maxi? Yeah. I'll take a little boat ride. Here's Dale's cruiser. Get on board and I'll follow. Okay. Up you go. Okay, I'm on. Now, give me a hand. That's it. Thanks. Hey, what do you two think you're doing? Get off. I'll throw you out. Uh, sure, sure. Uh, come on, Bill. Uh, no, Maxi. Don't mind, Mr. Dale. He's just kidding. Kidding, huh? Okay, wise guy. You ask for it. I'll just... See, he didn't last long, did he? No, Maxi. The problem with him is he's big, but he's soft. Aren't you, Dale? Come on, now, come on. Up on your feet. Uh... Well, what do you want? I, uh, I've got some bad news, Dale. Your wife is dead. Dead? Yes. She was drowned late last night. Tell me, when did you see her last? A couple of days ago. And Dale? Lying. Why, I ought to... What? Nothing. That's better. Your wife was aboard this boat late last night, wasn't she? Yes, sir. I talked to her about her reconciliation. Mm-hmm. But she wasn't in the mood. She'd lost a lot of money gambling with Nick Vero. Nick Vero? Who's he? He runs the Pelican Club at the end of the boardwalk. Oh. Where go on? I tried to convince my wife to let me come back. She wouldn't listen. Mm-hmm. I tried to kiss her. She struggled, then jumped off the boat and swam for sure. That's all I know. That's all I know. She had an ugly bruise on her head, Dale. I don't know anything about it. Maybe not. By the way, where can I get in touch with Nick Vero? Well, from 8 p.m. on, you can find him at his club. Before that, he's usually with his girlfriend, Carol Carson. Carol Carson? Carson. Oh, yes. Do you know her? She was a passing acquaintance, huh, Bill? Uh-huh. You know, Maxie, I think I'll pay her a visit this evening. Maybe we can get to be warm friends. Nice view from the boardwalk, huh, Stokes? Oh, Martin. What's wrong with your jaw? I had a visitor on my boat. Man by the name of Desmond. Kind of funny he's knowing that Joan had an appointment with me last night. Wait a minute, Martin. Joan's death occurred under peculiar circumstances. Desmond asked me some questions and I answered them. Uh-huh. I've got a couple of questions, too. As far as I know, the will Joan made after our marriage has never been changed. Is that right? Uh-huh. Now, according to the terms of that will, I inherit her estate. Go on. I'm a little short right now. I've been running into some bad luck at Nick Vero's. How about in advance? Well? How much do you need? $5,000. Well, I guess I can let you have it. Good. Uh, just one thing, Martin. Yeah? If Joan was murdered, you'd be the leading suspect. So? No, I'm not saying that you're guilty. But if you were tried and convicted, you wouldn't inherit a penny. And I'd be out $5,000. Well, I'm surprised you were bringing that up. After all, you'd only be out $5,000. As for me, I'd be out. Hello. Hello, Nick. Yeah? I've been waiting for you to get in touch. Got that dough you owe me. Well, I've got five grand, Nick. Five grand? Tell me you'd have it all by the night. I know, but now that Joan's dead, I'll need a little more time. Sorry, Dale. Your time's up tonight. Either you pay off or else I'll shovel you in with your wife. But if you'll only wait on me... I've waited long enough. Nick, now, I'll tell you something you should know. Okay? I'm not making any promises, Dale. Let's spell it. Well, there's a private detective here from New York, a fellow by the name of Bill Desmond. That's not news. I know, but he was out on my boat this morning. And from what he said, I think he's got something on Carol. Huh? He said that he was going to see her this evening. Oh, okay, Dale. If this tip turns out to be on the level, you can forget about tonight's deadline. Getting kind of late, Nick. Aren't you going up the clock? What's the matter, Carol? You anxious to get rid of me? Of course not. So what's wrong with you tonight? Nothing. Why? Oh, you've been thoughtful all evening. So I've been thoughtful. You're not usually when it was me. So? I was just wondering if you were thinking of Joan Dale. Why should I be thinking of her? Oh, come on, Nick. You don't have to be cagey with me. I don't know what you're talking about. No, I saw you go into her bungalow last night. You know, you're way off base, baby. Now, look, Nick, I'm sort of mixed up in this thing, too. And I figured that... You expecting anyone, Carol? No. Okay, give me a minute to duck into the bedroom and go see who it is. Right. Good evening. Oh, the boy with the athletic eyes. Yes, Desmond's a name. Bill to you. Well, good night, Bill. At just a moment, Carol, don't close the door. Till I'm inside. There we are. You get out of here. Oh, not yet, darling. Hmm. Nice place you got here. You know, I'm beginning to think that your friend Nick bears a fool. What do you mean? Well, a setup like this, a girl like you. I'd be hanged if I desert you every night just for business. If you don't mind, let's leave Nick out of this. Suits me. As a matter of fact, I picked my time in coming to visit you to be sure I'd avoid running into him. I see. I figured we'd be more comfortable alone. What do you want? Hmm? Don't. I didn't do anything. I know, but I didn't like the way your hands were twitching. Oh, that. That's nothing. I guess I smoke too much. Yes, I guess you do. I suppose you cool off and tell me why you came here. Oh, OK. Tell me, why did you bury Joan Dale's body in the sand? I didn't. Did it have anything to do with Nick Verrill? I... Don't stare like that. Talk. I said... I shouldn't have hit him so hard, Nick. Shut up. But you shouldn't have hit him that way. I said shut up. That's the first time you ever hit me. Yeah. That won't be the last time if you don't shut your trap. Help me tie this lug up. I'm going to feed him to the fishes. See? Yep. What is it? I've been looking high and low for my boss, Bill Desmond. Have you seen him? Nope. He ain't seen hiding a hair of me. Maybe he's Gallivan. Wait a minute, Fuzzy. I thought I heard something. Huh? I didn't hear anything. There it is again. Hey, you're right. Someone's crying for help. It sounds like it comes from under my pier. Come on. OK. Under the boardwalk. Help. It sounds like it comes from right over there. There it is again. It's Bill. So it is. Thrust up like a bundle of wash. And the tide coming in too. Help. It's OK now, Bill. Maxie. Yeah. And Fuzzy Gatkins. I haven't had any loosening. Just a second, Mr. Desmond. Just have to cut one more cord. There we are. Can you get up, Bill? Yes, I think so. Just give me your hand for a moment. Ah, thanks. Gee, I'm sure glad you're OK, Bill. Lucky Fuzzy and me hurt you. Otherwise, you'd have been a goner. Yep. The old devil in the sea might have gotten another one. The old devil, Fuzzy? Sure he. Didn't believe in him much till I saw him get Mrs. Dale. You saw a devil get Mrs. Dale? Yep. Sure did. I was up in my shack and I saw... Bill, you OK? Yes, Maxie. But Fuzzy's been hit. Is he hurt bad? He's dead, Maxie. Dead? Who do you think killed him? Maxie? A devil. Boy, what a layout this Pelican club has. Look at all this suckers just begging to be taken to the cleaners. Yeah. Did you see Nick, Bill? No, Maxie. Let's try his private office. Right. Here it is. The stand guard outside the door, Maxie. I don't want to be disturbed. OK. Desmond. Yes, Carol, what's the matter? You act as though you're looking at a ghost. Keep both hands on top of the table, darling. I wasn't going to pull again. Maybe not. But suppose you come around here, away from the desk. OK. It's better. I suppose it must have handed you quite a laugh when Nick crept up behind me and let me have it. I didn't laugh, Bill. No? After you threw me into the pier, you might at least have gotten in touch with Maxie. No, I couldn't. Nick made me stick close to him just a little while ago. As soon as he left, I called your hotel, but Maxie was out. You're fast on your feet, aren't you? You don't believe me? What do I look like, little boy blue? It's the truth, Bill, honest. Well, never mind that now. Where'd Nick go? I don't know. Now, look, Carol. I've got a bump on my head the size of an egg. My wrists and ankles are raw from the ropes cutting into them. I'm in no mood for stalling around. I'm afraid Nick'll kill me. Now, don't worry. I won't tell him how I found out. Well? He... He went to see Stokes at his hotel. The short plaza. Honest? Yes. Okay, sweetheart, I'll buy it. For your sake, I hope this isn't another sell-out. Do you really expect to find Nick here, Bill? I don't know, Maxie. You don't know? Well, I do. I'll bet you that... Yes? Uh-oh. It's you, Desmond, and Mr. Davis. Oh, yes, Stokes. Tell me, is Nick Vera with you? Nick? Who are you? No. I told you, Bill. I knew she was lying. Quiet, Maxie. Well, I'm sorry, Desmond, but I'm rather busy. I'm sorry, too. I want in. Now that you're in, what do you want? Well, well, Nick Vera. Shame on you. A big boy like you hiding behind the door. No wonder Stokes was so nervous. That gun of yours is almost as ugly looking as you. Close your big gap, Desmond, and I'll fill your teeth with lead. Until this half-pint sidekick of yours will close that door. Do as he says, Maxie. Sure. That's better. Now, what did you want, Desmond? Oh, I want to talk to you about a number of things. For instance, why you cocked me earlier this evening and left me under the pier for fish bait? Me? You're nuts. Oh, I don't think so, Nick. Tell me, did you really want me to end up like Mrs. Dale? Look, Desmond, if you think I killed Mrs. Dale, you're off your trolley. Yeah? Yeah. You know, Harold cost and thought you might have had something to do with it. That's why she buried the body in the sand. Harold acts like a dumb little twist sometimes. For instance, she shouldn't have told you I was here. She, uh, she didn't. Maybe not. Well, Desmond, anything else you'd like to ask me before I go? No, Nick. But if I think of something, uh... I'll call on you. Yeah, yeah, do that. I'll give you a warm reception. Okay, you guys, just stay where you are. I'm leaving. Shouldn't be, uh... Shouldn't be falling, Bill? No, Maxing. I put Clay right into his hands. Stokes. Yes, Desmond? What did Nick want with you? Well, he came to see me about Mrs. Dale's gambling debt. It seems that she owed him about $50,000. Hmm. As much as that, eh? That's what he says. Now that she's dead and he can't collect it legally, he wanted me to pay it out of her estate. What did you tell him? Well, naturally, I told him that that was impossible. He didn't like that. I guess not. He told me I'd have to pay up or... or else he'd kill me. What's the matter with you, Bill? Hmm? Ever since we returned to our rooms, you've been pacing up and down like a stir bug. I thought you said you were going to undress and hit the hay. Yes, I know, Max, but I can't get this case out of my mind. The solution keeps saluting me. It does? Well, I think it's a cinch. Oh, you do, eh? Sure, look. Mrs. Dale probably drowned swimming in from her husband's boat. How about fuzzy Atkins? Well, Nick was sore because fuzzy helped pull you out of the water. Ah, no, Maxie, that won't wash. But who else could have killed him? That old devil in the sea he was babbling about? Hmm, that old devil in the sea. Wait, maybe fuzzy wasn't babbling. Huh? Yes, it could tie in with those ashes we found in Mrs. Dale's fireplace fire. Of course. Of course what? Maybe. Oh, see who it is, Maxie. Okay. Billion, Maxie. Oh, Miss Carson. Who's that? Carol? I've got to talk to you. Good Lord. What's happened? You look as though you've been through a meat grinder. Nick gave me a beating. Why the dirty? He was sore because I told you he'd gone to Stokes. Well, I'm going to give him lots more to be sore about. Yes? Nick was in Joan Dale's bungalow last night. I don't know if he saw her, but he took some of her papers. How do you know? I saw her name on the envelope just before he put them in his desk. I see. Come on, Maxie. I want to take a peek into that desk. How are you making out, Bill? I think we'll be in Nick's office presently, Maxie. Unless I've lost all my skill or the skillet and keep. There. That does it. Now, careful, Maxie, when you close the door. Okay. Hold the light on the top set of the door. Right. That's it. Hmm. That should be easier to force than the door. I'll just insert this near the lock and press down. Now, to see what... Hey, someone put the lights on. Yeah, I did it. Well, you looking for something, Desmond? Well, if it is now a gentle friend, Nick, and his friend, the automatic. Yeah. This gun and me are good pals that always does what I want. Desmond, I told you I'd give you a warm reception. Well, here it is. That, Mr. Stokes, is what I call an entrance. Thanks. Not at all, Desmond. Glad to be of service. How is Nick, Maxie? I think he's going to make some undertaker very happy. Well, I don't think anyone will miss him. Now, let's see what's in that desk drawer. Ah, yes. As Mrs. Dale's paper's all right. May I have them, Desmond, as her executive? I'll, uh, I'll need them to wind up her estate. Certainly. Oh, uh, by the way, may I have that gun? I'll turn it into the car and explain what happened. Well, of course. Yeah. Thanks. Now, uh, would you mind taking off your shoes and socks? What? What's the matter with your billion nuts? No, Maxie. I just want to prove that Mr. Stokes is guilty of murder. Hey, what time is it, Maxie? Uh, certainly am. Hey, what's the idea of setting the alarm clock? I've got a date at the beach with Carol Carson. Where'd the devil of my swim trunks? Wait a minute. I didn't get a chance to talk to you last night. Why did Stokes commit those murders? Well, he'd embezzled a good deal of Mrs. Dale's money. She'd been checking her accounts and discovered the discrepancies. That's why her desk blotter was full of figures. Oh, but how did he drown her in the ocean? He didn't. That is, in the ocean. He'd drown her in her bathtub after first knocking her unconscious. Uh-huh. Then he carried her under the boardwalk and in the old fishing pier. I see. So Stokes was really the old devil of the sea that Fuzzy saw? Exactly. Now, where in blazes are those swim trunks? But how about Nick? Hmm? Oh, Nick. Well, when he was in Mrs. Dale's bungalow, he came across her papers with notations on Stokes' embezzlement. Then he went after Stokes, not for Mrs. Dale's gambling debt, but for blackmail. I get it. And I want to see more, Bill. Why did you want Stokes to take off his shoes and socks? Well, if you remember, the beach was covered with spots of tar. Uh-huh. When Stokes carried Mrs. Dale into the pier in the dark, he got tar all over his feet and legs. And that stuff is almost impossible to get off. Oh. When he got back to her bungalow, he tried cleaning it off of the towel. Then he burned the towel in the fireplace. I see. Now, if you'll excuse me, Maxie, I'll be off to meet Carol. Uh, oh, Bill. Now what? Uh, before you go, don't you think you ought to put on your swim trunks? Hmm? Oh. And so close is tonight's story, Death's Swims at Midnight. James Irthine wrote the radio script. Roger Bauer produced and directed. Arthur Vinton played the part of Bill Desmond. Murray Forbes was Maxie Davis. Elspeth Eric was Carol Carson. Ralph Camargo.