 A plain cloth detective is a man under many pressures. His life is lived in contact with crime. Most crimes involve money, sometimes a great deal of money. And it can happen that a detective solves a crime involving money, but somehow the money stays missing. Then he's on the spot. Ugly whispers start behind his back. And only he knows whether he is innocent or... There was money missing. Sixty grand to be exact. Tony Belmont and Two Hoods took it away from the summit's finance company by holding up one of their messages. But I thought I recognized the description the messenger gave to the leader. And I brought in talk. But I didn't bring in the money. Sixty grand's a lot of dough. So it was bound to be talk. Well, talk's cheap. And I wasn't surprised when I walked into the precinct house. Got a sour look from Sergeant Bronson on the desk. Hello, Bronson. What's booked? Hello, address sir. Don't be so enthusiastic. It's bad for your heart. I said what's booked? A couple of break-ins, kid stuff, no money in them. What's that supposed to mean? I wouldn't know, address sir. I want to see sloppy Peters. Where is he? You could look downstairs on the pistol range. Thanks, I think. I went down the splendid old stairs to the pistol range in the basement. Sloppy Peters was my sidekick. He usually dressed like a scarecrow after a bad winter. If he ate soup, Sloppy spilled it on himself. If he got his hand dirty, he mopped his hand over his face, got that dirty too. Half the time his socks didn't match. But he knew his job. Down on the range, Sloppy was popping away with his police special. Hey, Sloppy, how ya? Hey, Sloppy, I said hello. I heard ya. Hey, what's eating you? Why should anything be eating me? Well, that's what I'm asking ya. Hey, hey, you're holding your gun wrong again. Let me show ya. Five in the black. Hey, Sloppy, where you going? But Sloppy Peters turned his back and walked out. I spent the afternoon going over the breakings, got back to the precinct in Eden. I was checking out. I had on a new outfit. 150 buck tanlin' in soup. Custom-made silk shirt. $50 two-tone shoes and a $10 target. But what was anybody to say? Clothes were my gimmick. It was my trademark. The newspapers even had a nickname for me. Nifty dresser. And besides, I said it was vacation time for me. I expected a comment on my new duds from Bronson. But he just looked at me and looked away. Hey, Bronson. Bronson, I'm talking to ya. Oh, it's your dresser. What do you want? Just a simple answer? Is Sloppy Peters around? Should he be around? Never mind whether he should be or not. Is he? I couldn't say dresser. I couldn't say. Maybe he's out looking for some missing dough. Yeah. Just what dough did you have in mind? Oh, I heard tell something about a payroll being missing. Somebody had to get his name. Caught the hold-up guy all right. But somehow the money got mislaid. $60 grand, I think it was. That's right. $60 grand. And it was me who caught the hot rod who stole it. Tony Belmont. So it was. So it was. It all comes back to me now. Congratulations. Too bad you didn't find the dough, too. What did you? Maybe we can finish this interesting discussion later on. So right now I'm looking for Peters. Any time, dresser. Any time. I turned on my heel and walked out. By now the talk was all over the precinct. And Sloppy had broken up with his old sidekick Nifty dresser because of this missing $60 grand and hold-up look. But I had to find Sloppy. So I started making the rounds. A little later I dropped into the Ace Bowlin alley on Tent Avenue to have a little chat with Ace himself. Yes, sir. Say, man, you're a hit tonight. You're a really hit. Oh, wait a minute. Wait a minute. I'll put on my dark glasses before I look at you. It's a new outfit. You like it, huh? All of this was Christmas. I just standing in the corner to beat a Christmas tree. Looks like money. Real money. Yeah, yeah. It does at that, huh? Say, here you're going on vacation tonight. That's right. Two weeks at the beach. You're coming back in two weeks, I suppose? Well, certainly I'm coming back. Why shouldn't I? Well, no reason. No reason. Unless maybe we came into money and decided to live here. Rich Hunker left me out of his will. He always hated cops. What's on your mind, Ace? Oh, not in personal aggression. But there's talk going around. Yeah, such as? Well, last week, Tree Hunt Rods, who left the summit finance company, got away with 60 grand. A clerk was able to describe one of them. That's right. I recognize the description. Tony Belmont. So you picked up Tony in his room. You left sloppy Peters downstairs and handled Tony's single hand. You were alone with him 15 minutes? Oh, I spent 15 minutes trying to make him tell me who the two muscle men were who helped him. Why, anything wrong with that? Am I saying that was? But the talk goes around that Tony still has that 60 grand. He hasn't split it up yet. Tony isn't talking, of course. Tony never talks. But there's some people who think that 60 grand is still around. Well, of course it's still around. Everybody's looking my sidekick, sloppy Peters, thinks I got my mitts on that 60 grand and then latched onto it, right? That's the talk, President. That's the talk. Well, let him talk, Ace. Talk is one thing. Proving it is another. I left the ace bowling alley and went on making the rounds. A bar here, a dance hall there, all places where I might pick up a whisper of interest to a cop. At each place, I asked for sloppy Peters, but nobody had seen him. Apparently, sloppy had crawled into a hole and disappeared. It wasn't like him. I wanted to find sloppy. And I wanted to find two unknown muscle men who'd been in with Tony Belmont on that hold-up. Even if by any chance I was planning on taking a vacation from which I wouldn't bother to come back, I didn't want to leave those two hoods in the loose. I wanted them behind bars for a long time. Then in a pool parlor at night, I got my first move from Nick the Pick. A combo pick pocket and pool shock. Oh, that's not alone, Nick. Let me put the seven bar on his side pocket. Hey, nice shot. Now, Rumble, as you're looking for your sidekick. You see him? Right ball in the end pocket. What? Answering in words of one syllable? No. And what's your interest? Nine ball in his side pocket. I never mess... Neither do I. Now, what do you know about sloppy Peters? Oh, that was a guy. What did he say? Ten ball in the end pocket. What did he say? Luigi's bar and grill half an hour ago. Thanks. How much? He started down the dark side street for Luigi's bar and grill. Trail was getting hot now, too hot. Because the red neon sign that said Luigi's was 50 yards ahead of me when footsteps scuffed in the doorway just as I passed, something jabbed into my back and a voice said, Okay, close horse. Stand quiet with your hands up. I'll give you a chance to see how you like the loads of yeast back home. Just a moment. We will return for the sack. It was a gun in my back. There were two men behind me, a big one and a little one. I recognized the voices. Phil whipped the little one and Wheezy blamed the big one. Wheezy took my gun and then frisked me. 50 bucks, that's all he's got. The dough ain't here. What do you expect? Did he be carrying it on him? They could have 60 grand in his pocket? He's got it hid someplace. Hello, Phil Wheezy. So you two metal giants with the ones in on the finance company hold up with Tony Belmont. That dresser will do the talk. He laid a trap for me, huh? You knew I was looking for sloppy. Peter, see you left word, he was in Luigi's to get me to come this way. All right, since you feel so much like talking. Talk? About what? About where you hid the stop. More stuff. Let me slap his ears, Phil. That'll make him shock. I'll slap your nose. Professor, we know you got that 60 grand hid someplace. You know more than I do. Okay, you're asking for it? Now let me clip him on top. I'll clip you. Just keep your eyes open so we ain't interrupted. Okay, Phil. Okay, but he's got to talk. He'll talk. He'll sing like a quartet. Now listen, Professor. I'm listening, but so far I don't hear much. We know you got the dough. Tony Belmont slipped weight on a grapevine you took. You can fool the police commissioner, but you're not putting anything over on us. After that, Belmont, you managed to hide the payroll loot someplace. Now where is it? Suppose I say I don't know. In that case... We can keep this up all night, you know. The question is, can you take it all night? What about it, Professor? Okay. Maybe I know where the money is. Okay, then. Since you know where it is, suppose you tell us. I, uh... I hid it in the junkyard behind Belmont's Roman house. The junkyard? Yeah, Phil, there is a junkyard. Right out the back way and down the alley. That's it. I locked Belmont in the closet. See, I wrapped the dough in a newspaper, and I went down the back way while sloppy peas waited for me out front. Then I hid the money. He went back and got Belmont, and I took him down the front lane. You cops, they're all alike. The only difference between you and us is we admit we're crooks. The difference between you and me is that you're stupid. Now can I clip him, Phil? No. Now he's going to lead us to the dough. There's an alley ahead, at least to that junkyard. Start moving, Bresser. I started moving. But the gun nudging me in the kidney there was nothing else to do. We went down a long park out there, listening to the televisions playing in the buildings we passed. The people quarreled when babies cried. Then we came to a high board fence that surrounded the junkyard, and I stopped. What are you stopping for? Well then, here's the junkyard. How are we going to get in? You got in the other time. You can get in this time. Oh, that was from the other alley. You see, there was a loose board. Where's he? Yeah, Phil. Look for a loose board so we can get through this fence. Where's he playing? He began yanking at the fence. Well, Phil whipped, kept the gun grinding hard into my back. I was in no hurry. I knew they were figuring on killing me as soon as they had their hands on them. Shooting me in the back and leaving me along with the old boilers and wash tubs in the junkyard. I was perfectly willing to postpone that as long as possible. Then Weezy Plain found a loose board. Phil used his gun to steer me to the opening, and we all squeezed through. OK. What are you stopping for? I'm just trying to figure where we are. Now, uh, the other time I got in this junkyard from the other side. If you're stalling, you're going to be sorry. I hid the money inside an old furnace someplace about the middle, uh... Yeah, thought it'd be over this way here. I led the way toward the center of the junkyard. Rusty iron ripped holes in my new suit. And a cat jumped up snarling. There were a million people inside a few blocks of us, but there, in the silence of that deserted junkyard, Phil and Weezy and I might have been the last men alive in the whole world. OK. Now what are you stopping for? Some place around here I hid the dough. Uh, one of these old furnaces. Which one? Don't try to stall. Listen, I was in a hurry. I crammed the money into an old furnace. Just let me look in this one here. No, no, it's not here. Maybe it's that one over there. Now my suit was covered with a messy black stain and reaching around inside the furnace. There wasn't much left in my outfit by now, but this was my life that was worrying me, not my clothes. They followed close behind me as I worked my way toward the other furnace. And overturned bathtub lay about ten feet from it and on the bathtub, a black cat sat and just watched it. Hey, look at Phil, a black cat that's bad luck. Bad luck for a dresser if this ain't the right furnace. Because then I'll know he's stalling. No, no, no. This is it. I'm positive of it. Yeah, the package is right inside the firebox. Yeah. There it is. It's right here. At the moment, we will return for the concluding act of... Sus. I reached inside the antique furnace. And there was the package. But it didn't hold any money. It held a robot. As soon as I had it in my hands, I dropped it on my knees and I yelled, OK, sloppy, shoot! Well, the bathtub is shooting at us. The trick dresser up, fix your wagon! I ducked behind some scrap iron. Before Weezy Blaine could find cover, he grunted and fell over an old washed-up and laid it. Phil Whip started to run. Couldn't get a shot at him. But the bathtub of sloppy pedas was heightened under heathen jerky top low. Sloppers stood up, a six-foot scare crow, and lifted his gun. Phil Whip fell into some rusty machinery and laid there, not even moving. Sloppy, Peter's put his gun away and came over to help me up. I had gotten tangled up in some loose wire. OK, Johnny. Give me a hand. That's it. Thanks, Sloppy. Now, uh, let's find the money. It's here, isn't it? Well, sure it is. I told you it was. In the same boiler where I had the gun hit. I'd get it right out. There it is. In the pillowcase, I dumped it in after I cuffed Tony Belmont. Stayed just as safe as in a vault. Let's have a look at it. Sure. Pretty, isn't it? Yeah, very pretty. Now, let me have it. But you have it. All of it. Now, don't argue, Johnny. Your gun? What's the devil doing? The money, Johnny. You want all of it? All of it. Start walking, Johnny, toward the street. And don't hurry. We have a little trip to take. The Sloppy Peter's gun nudged me. I didn't understand. He was tired of having gun for my lips. But his grim look told me he wasn't full. We held a cab, took us to headquarters, then we walked up to see the commissioner's office. Sloppy put the pillowcase of money on the commissioner's desk and told him the story. Do I understand, Detective Peter, that you are charging Detective Gressa with trying to appropriate this $60,000 for himself? Yes, sir. I, uh... I hate to do it. Believe me, Johnny, I'd rather cut off my arm if there's nothing else I can do. He had a smart scheme to get Wheezy Blaine and Phil Whip out of hiding, but I could tell he was planning to keep the money. I pretended to go along with him, sir, in order to locate the money. Excuse me, Detective Peter's. Well, Gressa, I guess you're a better actor than you realize. You look sat way, sir. Actor-commissioner, I understand. Your partner came to me three days ago, Detective Peter's, and told me where the money was and what he was planning. I gave him my OK even to leaving the money hidden. Because there are a lot of ears in this city, and if the money was actually turned in, someone might have talked. Yeah, you mean, Johnny, you were just acting like a crooked cop. Weren't you? When you took that money from me after all, 60 grand, huh? It's 60 grand, yeah. That's the way I thought you figured it. Peter's, I'm glad you did what you did. Convincing proof of your own integrity. And, Gressa? Yes, sir. I want to congratulate you. It was a well-worked-out plan. Except for one bad mistake. Mistake commission? Look at your partner. I believe they call him sloppy Peter's and no wonder dirt all over him, face, hands, hair. Your mistake, Gressa, was this. You had him in a bathtub. Why didn't you put in some soap and water, too? You've been listening to 60 Grand Missing, written for suspense by Robert Arthur. Heard in tonight's story where Bernard Grant is dresser. Others in the cast included Ralph Bell, Leon Janney, Sam Raskin, Joseph Julian, Mason Adams, Michael Cain, and Nat Polan. Listen again next week when we return with Daisy Chain, written by Robert Forrest. Another tale well-calculated to keep you in suspense. The Kingston Trio, next, followed by latest CBS News and Have Gun Will Travel.