 Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum, the refreshing, delicious treat that gives you chewing enjoyment, presents for your listening enjoyment. Broadway's My Beat, from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomeest mile in the world. It is My Beat, the thrilling drama of murder and mystery in The People Who Walk the Great White Way, with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. More refreshment while you work for enjoyment anytime, chew a stick of Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. The delicious, long-lasting, real mint flavor of Wrigley's Spearmint cools your mouth and freshens your taste. The good, smooth chewing helps keep you feeling fresh and alert, adds enjoyment to whatever you're doing. So indoors, outdoors, at work or play, enjoy chewing Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. Wrigley's Spearmint, refreshing, delicious. In July, the night slips down over Broadway like a black silk stocking, and you drift to it because the other promises you made to yourself never happen. The part of your life that never counted is left behind, and you stand on a street corner beating down the scream in your throat. The shadows start at seven o'clock and deepen into night. You hug it close because it's your chance that something will happen to you outside of the movies. And the tap on the shoulder starts it, or the laughter that floats down to your end of the bar, or a smile, or the man who runs down the hall after you. Danny! Hey, Danny! What's the matter, Sergeant? Glad I nabbed you before you took off for the day. Phone call, Danny, from a hysterical woman. You know, I had a hard time. Come on. You see it all. 1640, 70s, 56, Danny, fourth floor apartment. That's where her fiancé lives. The guy's threatened to blow his brains out. Hey, here, the names and such, I jot it on this paper. Brought cards, you know. Waiting for you downstairs. Muggermans with it. That's it, Danny, 1647. Who'd you say was doing all the threatening? A man by the name of Blaine. First news, let's see. David. Try the buzzer, Muggerman. Yeah. Miss Carol said he was going to do it, and he did. Where's on the police? It happened up there on the fourth floor. Mr. Blaine, it happened just now, not more than... Who's that crying? That's her. Miss Carol. See her? And it's dropped on the third floor landing. And that's Mr. Fallon at the rail on the second floor. Let's go, Muggerman. The gun's here, Danny, by his chair. Looks brand new. Looks like Mr. Blaine had his choice. Uh-huh. It's quite a gun collection from Derringer's Honor. Complete equipment for a young arsenal. Muggerman, those people we passed on the landing, that boy on the second floor, Mr. Fallon, and Miss Carol on the third, I want to talk to them. Miss Carol's still crying, Danny. You hear her, poor woman? And stand for a moment and consider the virulence of death. How it is not content with its own, must reach out to slash the livid scar into the heart of those crowding its edge. The woman crying softly. The other tenants, whispering, moving restlessly in the lower corridors, and then hugging the wall because the attendance on violence must pass. The photographers, the interns, the technicians. And the moment is gone. It's routine now, official. The first entry in the file of night. The next morning, gather it into a neat stack on your desk and sit down to it. And be surprised at the opening door and the quick presence of the woman you had marked for later interrogation. Last night, he said you wanted to talk to me. It could have waited, Miss Carol, until you felt better and until you... It'll not be forgotten that easily, Mr. Clover. That's what you mean. If you have something to ask, ask. Only don't prolong it. Don't make me wait in wonder. Sorrow is enough by itself, don't you think? Yes, yes it is. And you try to understand us, Miss Carol. A man I loved who loved me is dead. By his own hand, by his own will. He could have lifted his burden on to me, whatever it was. But he didn't. And now he's dead. You want more than that? Maybe. Because this is my job. Because I can't rule out the possibility that David Blaine was murdered. Awful. How ugly of you to think a thing like that. But anyone could have wanted my David dead. What if it's ugly? Tell me about him. He loved me. He was going to marry me. He was polite. Gentle. Sometimes he'd forget himself. Then he'd beg my forgiveness. Wept sometimes. Showered me with gifts. So I'd be quicker to forgive. This watch. He called it an engagement present. But it was really an atonement for... Look at it. See how I love it. It's a beautiful watch, Miss Carol. See? Listen to it. It ticks, ticks, ticks away my life with David. Softly, gently. Listen to me, Miss Carol. Why would David kill himself? You were in love, you were going to be married. Why? He had a secret. That's it. He had a secret. He didn't want to stain me with it. Isn't that it, Mr. Clover? Isn't that why a man kills himself for the girl he loves? I'm sorry, Danny. I thought... But it's important... It's all right, Dr. Sinske. You can come in. Well, that'll be all for now, Miss Carol. Thank you. All? You helped a great deal. Thank you. You have nothing more? Nothing. Not now. Then I'll go. If you should want to talk to me again, I promise I'll be. Goodbye. It's not easy, huh, Danny? To pry into grief, to scavenge... You've got something, Dr. Just tell me. Forgive me, Danny. Sometimes my mouth gets the better of me. I studied it, Danny. I put it on your desk for you to study. Read it sideways, upside down. It still comes out suicide. Then it's done. Finished, huh? Nothing to bother our brains about. Danny, finished. Except when a man who dies as Blaine did in shock spasm, arms rigid at right angles to his body, fingers clenched, how is it that gun was not found in his hand but on the floor? Just a small question, Danny, to know at the brain of a medical man. Sometimes it happens so, but... Yeah. Go practice medicine, doctor. Maybe I can bring you back an answer. Maybe where a man died, someone has an answer. I'm busy right now. Your name, Richard Fallon? I'm from the police. I guess that gives you a right. Come on in. You want to sit over there, move those papers off the couch. Just put them on the floor. You a writer, Fallon? You're interested or curious? What are you right about? About your city, but how it's not like my part of the country. About your many faceted city, about your stinking city. About your people. Your small people. Your hurry-up people. Your no place to go people. The no-tears city, the rat-hole city. That's what I write about. Any material up on the fourth floor? I figured that would be your gambit. Uh-uh, nothing. Your city caught up with a man and he shot himself before I drowned him. I'll think about the man and smile and wish him well. No one to think about him? His name was David Blaine. When Miss Carroll, last night I heard a shot. I ran out into the hall. Mrs. Galvin downstairs ran out into the hall. Miss Carroll upstairs ran out into the hall. We looked up the stairwell to the fourth floor from where the shot came. David Blaine was dead. I know that about him. What else? Uh-uh, nothing. Sit there if you want, but don't stare at the back of my neck when I write. Makes me self-conscious. My gratitude for permitting me in my ten minutes at the water cooler, Danny. Feel better, Gino? Goes without saying. And now to the toils of the day. It comes to that part of the rundown in which I profit you your daily piece of resistance. In two parts. To wit, gun found outside of deceased David Blaine is indeed gun with which deceased did do himself in. Gino, that hasn't been... Patient standing. Part two will settle the question itching in your brain of suicide versus murder. Scratch it for me, Gino. Part two of report from technical states. Impossible for any tenant to have shot, said, deceased, make an escape down the fire escape, arrived in the hallways in time to look up and yell man dead on the fourth floor in your presence. Add to this the double whammy I have held out on you. Give it to me, Tartaglia. Peek you, and Danny. The legman assigned to such duty have come up with that David Blaine did indeed lose upwards to 50 grand by sour bets in the stock market. This in the period of the last month. 50 grand in 30 days for these guys killed themselves, Danny. For a lot less sometimes. Yeah, yeah, yeah. All right, Gino, close the file on Blaine. There's nothing more to... Danny Clover speaking. They switched me to you, ain't... Yes, what about it? Who are you? Blanche Hemby, mister. 1834, East 59. Room 11. You said, Blaine, what have you got? And go there and walk the hallway mottled with shadows and scuffings. Hands in the door with the tin numbers and the pull-down bed and the base in the corner. Knock on door 11 and get no answer. And go in because there was urgency in the voice that said, come here. The bed was pulled down. The rug was frayed and the splotch of blood trailed off it onto the floor. The girl was behind the couch, huddled, her knees drawn to her chest and only the fat summer fly pinging against the window made sound. That and the lonely room silences that intruded upon the dead girl. For refreshment while you work for enjoyment anytime, chew a stick of Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. When your mouth feels dry, when you're warm or tired, Wrigley's Spearmint is really refreshing. The lively, full-bodied, real mint flavor cools your mouth, moistens your throat, freshens your taste. And the chewing itself gives you a little lift. Helps you feel your best and do your best. So for chewing enjoyment plus pleasant refreshment, chew delicious Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. We now continue with Broadway's My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and starring Larry Thor as detective Danny Clover. In the glittering mid-summer's day, Broadway takes time out to shimmer. The chrome is polished high, the better to reflect the passage of women who lean for a moment against the summer's heat and then walk slowly on. The mouthpieces of the pay phones glisten with the moist whispers of an empty summer afternoon. A money clip glints through the dark of an alley and you know that someone has gotten odds on a piece of the day. There's the drone of the neon and the tired wind nudging a headline in a shining trash bin. Cop finds murdered girl in tenement room and the wet shirt holds from your back. Like other summers, other days. Where I was in the corridor between my office and the show-up room, that had happened before, too. Only the names of the dead were different. Blanche, Hemby, I got the run done on you wanted, Danny. I'll have to slice it off fast, Danny. I'm due at the show-up. A woman there, Mrs. Westfall, real eager to identify a prowler she dreamed last night. I'll walk you down. This girl, Blanche Hemby, frequent visitor, got her name on her guestbook maybe five times. For what? Oh, nothing sensational. Brawl over a hairdo with another dame in a bar, phonograph screaming, her screaming, disturbing the neighbors, beat a guy's head open with a bottle and a tie-up with David Blaine. I know it's around the bars where she had the trouble, the tenement where she lived, the place she was working out with two weeks ago. They fired her? Uh-uh. She gave notice, Danny, two weeks ago. She said she was sick and tired working for Nickel Tips behind the hamburger counter. She had better, she told him, a lot better. Bid a hole in her time card, threw it on the griddle, walked out. Work anywhere else? See anyone else? Uh-uh. I'll check that, too. Blanche slept away the days in her room. Three times a day, she got up to phone for beer once a day for sandwiches. Uh, here I am. I'll check with you later, Danny. Yeah. I don't know where I got it. Why don't you leave me alone? Muggevin, that kid up there. What about him, Danny? Some punk property. That's the boy who was the tenant on the second floor where Blaine was murdered. Get him, Muggevin. Bring him up to my office. Sure, Danny, right away. There he is, Danny. He's not anxious. Get your hands off me, your scum, all of you. Take it easy, kid. What happened? The city trying to drown you? The way you said it does to people? I hate it. I get drunk at night because I hate it. That way I see it for what it is. And you can't stand that when someone like me sees you for what you are. You hate me. And you kick me, you throw me in jail because I'm better. Even drunk, I'm better. He's right, Danny. He's a lot better than us. He goes around with a pocket full of watch, like this, because he's so much better. I see it. Where'd you get this watch, Richard? I held out my hand, and I begged in a kindly person dropped it right into my begging hand. Where'd you get it? I told you. I walked the streets and it fell into my hand because I was crying and lonely and sick for home. Miss Carol, your neighbor has a watch like this. You steal it from her? You steal it, Richard? Lock him up, my good. A watch exactly like the one Regina Carol owned. Her engagement present from the man now dead, presumed a suicide, suspected murdered. If it were Miss Carol's watch, what was Richard Fallon doing with it? It was a simple question, and Richard couldn't answer it. So call Miss Carol. Get no answer. So open the plush box that held the watch. Levante, jewelers for over a century, that's what the satin ribbon said, glued against the inside top. Stolen from Levante, jewelers for over a century? Go there, ask Mr. Levante. Oh, no, not stolen. Purchased. By whom? A policeman you said you were? Let me see, please. Sure. Here. Yes. This watch was purchased. You've already said that. Apologies. I'm temporizing, you see. I'm trying to gather my forces together. Now, as to who purchased this watch, perhaps to Miss Carol, my old friend, Miss Regina Carol. Of course, it's impossible to tell. You're trying to tell me, Mr. Levante. You see, this is quite an unusual watch. We rarely sell more than one a year, our own design with a foreign mechanism. However, we sold two in the last few months. Remarkable? Who did you sell them to? Even more remarkable. A few days ago, Miss Carol purchased such a watch. A few months ago, a fiancée. Now dead, I've heard. A few months ago, this gentleman also purchased such a watch as an engagement gift for Miss Carol. That makes two watches for Miss Carol, both the same kind. Is there an explanation for it? Miss Carol said she lost her engagement watch. Thus, she purchased another one. She cautioned me not to mention it to her fiancée or to anyone for that matter. But now, you, a policeman, Mr. Blaine dead? Well, you don't think I'm going back on my word to an old friend, do you? Miss Carol is your old friend? Her dad and I were close. I tuddled Regina. Poor woman. You mean about her fiancée? About all of them. What do you mean? There were four of them, you know. Two at college, one when she was a sophomore, one when she was a senior. Then about ten years ago, a young man since quite successful in groceries has a nice store for select customers on medicine. Chap named Mason, I think. Miss Carol was engaged four times, eh? She's 37, you know. She doesn't look it, does she? Still a beauty. Uh, bygone day kind of beauty, if you know what I mean. Victorian, would that be it? I often wondered why she never married any of her young men, why they backed out on their marriage. I wonder why too. You need some help, sir? I'm looking for a Mr. Mason. I'm Danny Clover, police. The first name's Pete, Danny. You got a couple of minutes? Any time for you, fellas. I need a couple of minutes to recuperate anyhow. Mrs. Smite just had me on the floor. Oh. She comes in here with her French poodles, three on a leash. Made in chauffeur, trailing in back. What is a dozen... Well, do you ever hear anybody say bagel with a broad A? She wants a dozen boggles. I don't understand her. Finally she tells me what she wants is receptacles for a delicacy known as locks. How did she say locks? Locks the chauffeur said. What can I do for you, Danny? You were once engaged to a Regina Carroll, weren't you? It was an experience. I'm not sorry for it. Who broke the engagement? You've got to ask that because it's important for the police to know, right Danny? I broke it. Why? That's a question I often ask myself. Sometimes my wife asks me, and I'll tell you what I answer. Go ahead. Regina was a girl just like the girl that married dear old dad. Close to the wedding, I discovered this is not the type of girl I wanted. Personally, the girl that married my dear old dad, my mom, nagged my father to an early grave. Mom and Regina, two peas from the same pot. Go on. I'll tell you about Regina. I figure she has a picture in her head of a husband in a smoking jacket with satin lapels and a curved pipe in a fireplace. I don't fit the requirements. Personally, I like poker better than cribbage. Uh-huh. What else? Well, Regina, how she dressed, pretty understand, but she made her own fashions, which she never changed. Ribbons, dresses choked against the throat, and always a little too long. She slipped on the ice once and I told her she had pretty legs. She slapped me. That's what about Regina Carroll, Danny. Is that enough? Thanks. Thanks a lot. Gordon? Danny Clover. I couldn't be more charmed if I tried. A quiet evening in technical, huh, Gordon? It was. Now the place screeches at me. Did you do that, Danny, just by walking in here? You mix yourself bitter pills in those test tubes. I don't have to. I have company. No offense. The gun that killed David Blaine. Get it out and go over it again. I've already examined it thoroughly. My report was placed on your desk. Get it out. I can recall it to you if memory fails you. 32 calibers, Smith and Wesson, fired once. Get it. Examine it. All right. All right, Danny. See? I'm examining. It's still as it was when Blaine held it close to it. The barrel. Put it on a slide. Hold it up to the light, whatever you have to do. If you ask, Danny, I'll do better. Perhaps this will amuse you. A micrograph in large as 45 times. And there. Have a look, Danny. You look. All right, Danny. Wow. What? These infinitesimal scratch marks on the barrel. Fascinating. And a new quirk. It didn't register on me before. I checked the rifling in the barrel against the slug, which we call standard operating procedure. I didn't think of looking at the outside of the barrel. Why should I, with a few aside? I guess I should have. And what would you have found out, Gordon? That the man killed himself with a silencer on his weapon. Now, that's what I call taking quiet pleas a shade too far, aren't any? Mr. Clover, I knew you'd come back. I knew there'd be more things you'd want to know about David. Would you come in? Thanks. You may sit down, that chair. No, thanks. What makes you think I wanted to find out any more about David? I assumed it. Suicide. Files to complete. I realize it's my duty to be cooperative. Miss Carroll... I can tell you so much about him. He was generous. He was a gentleman. Rare thing to find that day. He was murdered. You suggested that before, Mr. Clover. I didn't believe it then. I don't believe it now. Murdered. He was dead minutes before we got to him. That's stupid. Listen to me, Miss Carroll. Stupid because I heard the shot. We all heard it. We all ran out into the hall. Do you have a gun, Miss Carroll? Yes, I have a gun. David gave it to me. Woman alone. Did he show you how to fire it? Of course he did. He loved guns. I interested myself in them. Shall I get the gun? It isn't necessary for now. You don't have to get the silencer, either. What are you talking about? The gun you shot David with, his own gun, was equipped with a silencer. Mr. Clover, I don't understand you at all. I'm a lonely woman. And I admit it, I'm a helpless one. How can I have killed anyone? Someone I loved. Nice view from this window, Miss Carroll. You could stand here, see Detective Muggevin and me coming, fire a blank cartridge from your gun, run out into the hall, look up, and everyone thinks the shot came from the floor above, and David Blaine's apartment. Mr. Clover. Do you admit it, Miss Carroll? No. No. I want to show you something. Here. Look at it, Miss Carroll, a watch, just like the one you're wearing. I didn't kill him. David Blaine broke his engagement to you, didn't he? I didn't kill him. The kind of woman you are, proper and proud. You gave him back the watch, but what to tell your friends? Tell them that someone else walked out on you the way three other men did, a proud woman like you? So you bought another watch, just like it, the one you're wearing. Please, please. Because I have the one you gave back to David, the watch you had that boy, that writer Richard Fallon steal from David's apartment, so the police wouldn't find it there and ask questions. You told him to get rid of the watch. He got drunk instead, got picked up. Look, look, David jilted me. I didn't kill him. You did. You couldn't live with the thought of another man's walking out on you, like the other three. That's why you bought the watch, so your friends would think you were still engaged. Mr. Clover. So your friends would think David died because of the money he lost. And Blanche Hembey, the reason why David walked out on you. She's filth. The woman David loved. Filth! Peter to death. Peter, Peter! Let's go, Miss. Like David, it was filth. Instead of me, a woman like that. Miss Carol. It's not true what you said. Those men didn't turn me down. I turned them down. College boys. Grocer. Not good enough. It isn't true. For some place. I don't want to look at anyone. I can't look at anyone. Broadway is deserted now. Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's just that people get tired and want to go home because Broadway threw sand in their eyes. Maybe you found what you were looking for and couldn't stare it in the face. Because it's a street that'll give you anything you want. Any way you want it. It's Broadway, the gaudiest. The most violent. The lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway. My beat. The makers of Wrigley's Spearman Chewing Gum hope you've enjoyed tonight's story and that you're enjoying Wrigley's Spearman Gum every day. We invite you to join us next week at this time when Detective Danny Clover returns again with Broadway's My Beat. Broadway's My Beat brought to you by Wrigley's Spearman Gum is produced and directed by Elliott Lewis with music composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. The program is written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover, with Charles W. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.