 Box 13, with the Star of Paramount Pictures, Alan Ladd as Dan Holliday. Box 13, care of star times. Two days ago, I saw your ad in the star times. I want you to do something for me. Find someone who I know is in this city. You see, I think the man I want you to help me locate will be killed unless I find him first. If you're free tomorrow evening, we can meet at the corner. We can meet at the corner of Robertson on the 35th at 8 o'clock. Carry a topcoat and your hat and your hand. I'll speak to you. Anxiously, Dorothy Simmons. Sure, it sounded like a hundred other letters I get through Box 13. When the thing was over, I wished the male carrier had taken a detour somewhere on his appointed rounds. And now, back to Box 13 and Dan Holliday's newest adventure, 113.5. Susie. Susie. Hey, Susie. Huh? Oh, hello. Hello. Susie, I've been here for an hour. My name is Holliday. Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Holliday. I guess I was wall gathering. Yes, I guess you were. Why are you staring so hard at that letter? I'm studying it. Why? Well, I'm reading a book. So? The book says you can tell character from handwriting. Oh, and what do you get from that letter from Dorothy Simmons? Nothing. It must be a great book you're reading. Oh, I don't understand it at all, but it's fun. I'll come back later when we can clear this up. But I've got a great idea, Susie. What? You forget about the book until I get back. Then I'll tell you all about Dorothy Simmons. At 8 o'clock, I arrived at Robertson on 35th. At 8 3, a young woman, maybe 25 or 6, spoke to me. And at 8 15, we were sitting across from each other in a booth at a coffee shop. She was good-looking, smartly dressed, and talked smoothly and well. But underneath that calm exterior, something was happening. I know he's somewhere in this city, Mr. Holliday. I've got to find him before... before someone else does. Maybe you'd better tell me who this is we've got to find. My brother. Oh? Well, how do you know he's here? I've traced him this far. Heard from him at all? No. He's running away from something, or someone. How do you know that? Well, the last time I saw him, three months ago, he was frightened. He wouldn't tell me what was wrong, and then he disappeared. Your letter said he might be killed. He said that. Well, any reason for saying it? No. At least, none that he told me. Look, Miss Simmons, this city has a perfectly good-missing person's bureau. An efficient setup to help people in your spot. Why... why not go to the police? I can't. All right, you can't, Riesel. I... I don't know what my brother's done. Oh, I see. I'm not sure he's done anything wrong, but... well, he might have an... And if we find him... What do you mean? Well, if he's been a bad boy, it'll be out of my hands. You'd turn him over to the police? Well, of course. You won't help me, except under that condition. Well, it's about it. I... All right, I agree. Fair enough. Now, where do we start looking? I don't know. Oh, what's his name? Dave. Dave Simmons. You got a picture of him? No. That's great. I can describe him. Well, go ahead. He's about five foot seven. Dorothy described her brother to me, and as she talked, a man who'd been sitting a couple of boos away got up and came near us. At first, I didn't pay any attention to him. Then it struck me as funny that he should be taking such a long time tying his shoelace. Wait a minute. What's the matter? Hold it. Having trouble? Huh? Talking to me? Yeah, I think so. I got a knot in the lace. Convenient place to get it. Huh? Oh, nothing. Are you finished now? What's the idea? I can't stop the time I shoelace? I have no objections. And what's a beef? None, I guess. What are you? A wise guy? Sorry. Yeah. A wise guy, that's one. Was he listening? If he'd have had his ear any closer, it would have been in my coffee. Did you ever see him before? No. No, I'm sure I haven't. Come on, let's get out of here. Look, he's looking in the window. Maybe he just likes us. He must have heard me describe my brother. He couldn't miss. Okay, come on. He's gone. Huh? You sure you've never seen him before? Oh, I'm positive. Must have been following you. Following me? Couldn't have been me because there was no reason for him to tell me. But why should he be after me? I don't know. Yeah. Where are you staying? Oh, the Wilmington Hotel. Okay. Cab! Hey, Cab! What are you going to do? Put you in a cab and see that you're not followed. Oh, but what about you? Mr. Shoelace doesn't know it, but he gave us a leave. All right, get in. When will I hear from you? I'll get in touch. Oh, no. I'll get in touch with you. But why shouldn't I call you? Please don't. Just let me call you tomorrow. Okay. Here's my card. Thank you. It's all right. Wilmington Hotel driver. I waited for a cab to follow the one Dorothy had taken. None dead. Mr. Shoelace had dropped out of sight. At least until the next day. It was about 11 in the morning at my apartment when... Come in. Well, hello. Hello. I see you're wearing knotless shoelaces this morning. Yeah. Mind if I sit down? No, go right ahead. Thanks. I'll admit this is pleasant, but it can lose its charm. This visit, I mean. Maybe you'd like me to get right to the point, holiday. There's merit in that suggestion. Uh-huh. You want a high fondue? No, you tell me last night. Uh-huh. Good job. I didn't see it. No, nobody does unless I want them to. Oh. Now, about the point you mentioned. Is it still lying around? Holiday, I'll go 50-50 with you. Oh, it's generous of you. 50-50 on what? 20 grand. Now, look. We both beat our brains out if we work alone. If we work together, we got a better chance. That sounds reasonable. But if I knew what you were talking about, we could make more sense. She didn't tell you? Tell me what? What are you trying to do? Play coy with me? No, not at all. What's your Dorothy Simmons have told me? Who? Dorothy Simmons. What a funny man I am. Yeah, I ain't sure. What's the big laugh? She said that was her name. That's right. Suppose I told you she was lying. All right. Suppose you tell me. No, I think you're on the level with this. All right, let's stop the funny business. Nothing doing, Holiday. What you don't know won't hurt you. And what about something I do know? In that case, look me up here. Here's my card. I might come in handy. Well, he left me sitting there holding his card. I wanted I read R. Dakin, Private Investigator. The whole thing was beginning to look like a bride's first cake when... Hello? Mr. Holiday? Yes? This is Dorothy Simmons. Oh? Are you sure? What did you say? That name, Dorothy Simmons. You sure it's yours? Hello? Hello? I... May I see you? I'd love it. Oh, I had a visitor. Visitor? Who? Our friend last night seems his name is Dakin, a Private Investigator. Private Investigator? Yeah, that's right. Now, does he mean anything to you? Okay, I'll come to the hotel. No. No, I don't want anyone to know I'm here besides you. That man might follow you. Oh. All right, you name the place. Well, there's a drugstore down the street from the hotel. I'll meet you in there in half an hour. Uh, better make it in an hour. All right, in an hour. Goodbye. Goodbye. Whatever was going on, it was going in a circle with me right in the edge. But it looked interesting. The girl who said her name was Dorothy Simmons. The man who said her name wasn't Dorothy Simmons. The missing brother and the 50-50 cut in something that would bring $20,000. Yeah. Yeah, it had possibilities. But before I went to meet Miss Simmons, I found out about Dakin from Lieutenant Kling. Dakin was a shady operator. He'd come within an ace of having his license taken away from him on more than one occasion. But he'd always managed to slip the news and stay in business. Okay, let's look good. So an hour later, I was with Dorothy Simmons in the drugstore. I don't know him. I've never even heard the name Dakin before. All right. How about your own name? It isn't Dorothy Simmons. Well, what is it? I can't tell you now. Please don't ask me why. When we find my brother, I'll tell you everything. Meanwhile, I've got a ticket on a merry-go-round, and I get dizzy easily. You said you'd help me. But I can't find a mist or hunt for someone in a city that... Dakin must know something about my brother, or he wouldn't have followed me. He must have thought I'd lead him to Dave. You've got something. Please find out from Dakin what he knows. I don't think Mr. Dakin is the type that dishes out information just like that. Make him tell. How? Use thumb screws or the iron maiden? I've got to know why he's after my brother. I'd like to know that myself. And why you won't tell me your real name. Oh, there are a lot of things I'd like to know. Let's go to see Dakin. And if he tells us anything, I'll tell you anything you want to know. All right. That's a deal. Come on. Looks like Mr. Dakin's not receiving. Try the door. It's open. Mr. Dakin isn't very private, is he? Dakin! Dakin! Why are the shades drawn? Mr. Dakin likes it dark, I guess. And I think Mr. Dakin is all through investigating anything. Be quiet. Dead. He's dead. Shut up. Who killed him? How do I know? Hand me that phone. What are you going to do? Phone the police? No, you can't do that. Look, Dakin's been murdered. I'll do a lot of things for adventure and excitement. But hiding a murder is not one of them. My brother, suppose he... I told you twice. If your brother... Please don't call the police, not yet. Please. I said hand me the phone. Come on. Look out the door. I... All right. Here. That's better. Operator, give me the police. I want to report... Operator, never mind. The call was a mistake. And now, back to box 13 and Dan Holiday's latest adventure, 113.5. Whatever Dorothy Simmons used to hit me, it was a lot harder than my head and something had to give way. So I did. When I opened my eyes, Lieutenant Kling was bending over me. Well, it's nice to know you're still with us. Yes, I wake up to the strangest things. Uh-huh. Hey, why are you here? The operator reported a call from here. Two minutes later, another tenant passed here and saw this lovely tableau. You always lie down and go to sleep with murdered men. Always? Oh, what did she hit me with? This great, big, nice, heavy paperweight. And who's she? Dorothy Simmons. I still ask, who's she? Well, I told Kling the whole story, beginning to end. When I finished, I realized how silly it sounded. He looked at me and... Your name should be Alice. This is no wonder, and... Did your boys turn this place upside down? No. Sergeant. Yes, sir. Check on Dorothy Simmons at the Wilmington Hotel. You heard her description. Now, Holiday, she hit you and ransacked this room, looking for something. What? You know as much as I do. That gives me a whole lot to go on. As much as I had. Oh. Brilliant. Brilliant observation. Yeah, and you're in a good spot to notice it. I don't think. Look, why don't you go to Tibet? Can I go now? Home? Tibet? Yeah, get. Thanks. When you find out about Dorothy Simmons, give me a ring, will you? Yeah, sure, sure. Now beat it. I left the room and walked downstairs into the street. My head was still buzzing like a party line in a crowded neighborhood. But it was clear enough to let me see a big limousine. It was parked just across down the street from Dakin's office building. It hadn't been standing there when Dorothy and I went into see Dakin. Besides, a face looked out at me from the rear window. Then the face vanished, the car drove away. Well, this was getting better. A limousine, complete with chauffeur. I caught the license number, jotted it down in my head in between a couple of aches, and went back home. Later in my office, I had Susie check on that license number. I've got it for you, Mr. Holiday. The car belongs to Mr. Josiah Kettering. Are you sure? Sure. Why? I don't get it. Kettering's one of the richest men in the state. A recluse. Now what connection does he have with Dorothy Simmons, Dakin and... Hello? Susie, is Dan there? Oh, sure. It's Lieutenant Kling, Mr. Holiday. Yeah, well... Hello? Your head's still on. Barely, why? Don't get this through. There's no Ms. Dorothy Simmons registered at the Wilmington. Well, I told you that might not be a real name. Look, I'm not finished. Nobody of that description is registered there. And before you ask me if I checked all the way through, the answer is yes. Your dream girl simply doesn't live there anymore. However... I'm not much of any place right now. Better stay where we can put a finger on her. Mind if I go out on an errand, meanwhile? Where? Have one of your boys follow me. Maybe I'll need a little company. So long. Hey, there's no... I can go on an errand for you, Mr. Holiday. Oh, not this one, Susie. I'm going to see what Mr. Josiah Kettering has to offer. Yes, sir? Is Mr. Kettering in? Do you have an appointment, sir? Uh... Yes, tell him I've come from Mr. Dakin. If you wait in the foyer, sir, I'll give Mr. Kettering your message. The bottle disappeared down the hall, went into a room, and a few seconds later... This way, if you please, sir. Oh, thank you. That will be all, Carl. Very good, sir. And close the door. Will you sit down? Thank you. You said something about her, Mr. Dakin. Yes, you know him. What do you want? Well, did you know Dakin was murdered? Mr. Dakin was the type of person who invariably ends up that way. Some people do, you know. And some people do the killing. That achieves a nice balance. But that's neither here nor there. What have you come to tell me? Nothing. What are you looking at? Books. Quite a collection you've got in here. Yes. Do you know books? Rare ones? I don't have the money necessary to enjoy them as much as you do. Meaning what, sir? Nothing. You said you came from Mr. Dakin. Have you anything to tell me? I didn't answer the old man who sat there leaning forward, watching me like a bright but aged Robin. I could swear he thought I had something. Something he wanted. I decided to play along, Stahl, for what I could learn. His hands yellow and then trembled and then... Well, answer me, man. Answer me. Have you got it? Did you get it back? No. Don't, idiot. You incompetent fools. I paid you to get it back. I paid you. Now I want it. Bring it back to me. Do you hear? Well, I don't know where it is. Then why did you come here? Because Dakin was killed. I don't care about Dakin or anything else, but my book is gone and stolen. Look, I kept its place open. Bring it back to me, please. Get it back to me. The old man walked to a bookcase. He ran his hands over the roll of volumes. Then his fingers stopped at a vacant spot. What do you want? Turn back to me. More money? I'll give it to you in cash. Just a minute. Maybe you would better tell me the name of the book again. You know, Dakin knew. Dante First Folio. Now, please, please get it back to me. Oh, why don't you go to the police? Huh? Police? Why did you say that? You're not one of Dakin's men. You're not, are you? No. You're all against me. Everyone's against me. Everyone wants my collection. Get out. Get out. Get out! Who stole that book from you? They stole it from me. They knew I couldn't go to the police. They knew. But I fooled him, didn't I? I hired Dakin and... But you're not Dakin. Hey, you're the police. You won't let me have it back. You won't let me have it back. I can't tell you. I can't tell you. Mr. Kettering... Better take care of him than Carl. No. Quiet, sir. He'll be all right, sir. What do you know about this, Carl? Nothing, sir. Who stole that book from Mr. Kettering? There was no book stolen, sir. There was. A book Kettering couldn't let the police know about it because it was in his possession illegally. Is that right? Sir, these books are all he has. Yes, I know. But how many of them are stolen from other collections? Just the Dante First folios. The only one he couldn't go to the police about, so you hired Dakin to trace it. Please, sir. This won't mean prison for him, will it? It mustn't, sir. I don't know. Now, look, Carl, who stole it? There was a couple here, Mr. Kettering's secretary. Girl? Yes, sir. What did she look like? She was about 25 or 6, rather pretty. That's a great deal about books, sir. Mr. Kettering had placed an ad for someone to do cataloging. She answered. And she saw the Dante First folio. She must have it one time or another. Mr. Kettering kept this room locked, but, of course... That's enough. You set a couple. Was the other one a man? Yes, a chauffeur. He and the girl were friendly. Okay, you'd better take care of Mr. Kettering. He won't go to the police, sir. It would kill him. I can't answer that. Just take care of him. I've got something else to do. Sure, Klingit adds up. The girl and the chauffeur got away with the folio. The girl being this Dorothy Simmons... Simmons Smith Brown. What's in the name? She and the chauffeur stole the folio. The girl knew Kettering wouldn't dare go to the police. Why did she go to you? Now, here's my guess. The chauffeur double-crossed her, ran out with the folio. She couldn't go to a reputable private detective agency, and she didn't want the chauffeur to catch sight of her. So she picked you for the patsy to find the guy. The guy, she said, was her brother. And it's got to be it. Okay, I'll buy it. But what about Dakin? Either she or the chauffeur killed Dakin. The chauffeur because Dakin was on to him or the girl because she didn't want to be trailed. Ah, that makes sense. And Dakin was going to cross up the whole thing, grab the folio for himself, because he knew nobody could go to the police. A nice merry-go-round with a double-cross for a brass ring. And no free rides. Okay, that's the setup. But where does it leave us? Find the girl or the chauffeur. Okay, but something tells me that's going to be tough. And it was. For five days, the police dragged the city. It was dead-end until clinging to my office. And the man answering the chauffeur's description was picked up about 200 miles from here in a cheap, rooming house. He made a run for it, used his gun. And? He was killed. And the folio? He didn't have it. And he didn't sell it either. How do you figure that? If he had, we'd have heard about it. And even if we hadn't, the guy wouldn't have been holed up on a joint like that. He'd have had dough. Yes, and where's the folio? The girl. Uh-uh. The chauffeur must have hidden it. Is that any ideas? No, no. What was found on him? Just this. Slip of paper. What's this? You can read. It says 113.5. 113.5. Is all there was on him? That's all. What's it mean? I don't know. He'll guess as good as mine. Claying some place in the city is a folio worth $20,000. Two men have been killed because of it. Yeah. And all we've got is 113.5. Just those numbers. Code? That could be. It must be on me. Anyway. Oh, hello, Mr. Holliday. Hello, Lieutenant Kling. Hi, Susie. Wow. Gee, you're both looking sad. Mr. Holliday, remember what I told you I was reading about handwriting? Please, Susie, not now, please. Oh. What's that note? 113.5. Huh? 11...Susie. What's the matter? What have you got there? Books on handwriting. Claying, look at those books. Look at them. Huh? What's eating you? What about them? Look at them. Just look at them. Claying, I know where that folio is. I was sure I was right, but I wanted to go it alone. Claying wanted both the folio and the girl, so I had to be alone just in case. My destination? The public library. What better place to hide a book than there? I climbed the iron stairs to the stacks and towered over the main reading room. I read the indexed numbers on them. 111, 112, 113, decimal point. I reached out my hand for a little volume that stood between books that probably hadn't been taken out since the library was built. Thank you, Mr. Holiday. Oh, Miss Simmons, I believe. I hoped you'd lead me to it. May I help? Good hiding place, isn't it? Way up here in the stacks, hidden between books that nobody had asked for. But let's talk about you, Miss Simmons. Hmm, you've changed. Hair of different color, dressed shabbily, dark glasses. No wonder you couldn't be found. I'll take that folio, please. I guess you would. After all, you killed Dakin to keep him from finding the chauffeur. That's right. And I'll kill again. I'll kill again and again to get something that will mean the end of watching other people enjoy life. Hand it to me. Miss Simmons, if you shoot, wouldn't the shot be heard? Wouldn't you have to explain? Keep it to me. You have great patience. You followed me probably every day. Now, a little more patience won't hurt. Stay away. Don't come any closer. You want this, don't you? Give it to me. All right. But you will have to get it. Don't. Don't drop it over. If you do, I'll kill you. That wouldn't do any goodness, Simmons. If I drop it over this rail, it'll drop three stories into the reading room below. Now, still want to shoot? Please. Please give it to me. Put down that gun. No. Then shoot. But when you do, this book drops. There are about 50 people down there. Which one of them would you like to pick up $20,000? Take a look, Miss Simmons. Let go of me. Come on, Miss Simmons. And you'd better walk ahead of me. Somehow I wouldn't want you at my back on those steep, narrow stairs. Don't you afraid she would shoot, Mr. Harday? Oh, yes, Susie. But she knew if she did, I'd drop the book. And that gave me time to grab her. Gee. And to think you discovered where the folio was because I brought library books here to the often. See what reading will do for you, Susie? Uh-huh. But I've given up those books on handwriting, Mr. Harday. Oh, why? Because I analyzed one sample of handwriting and it said the person was loyal, kind, unselfish, generous. And who is this paragon of virtue? Miss Simmons. Oh, good night, Susie. Next week, same time, through the courtesy of Paramount Pictures, Alan Ladd stars as Dan Holiday in Box 13. Box 13 is directed by Richard Sandville. This week's original story was written by Arthur Bowie. Original music is composed and conducted by Rudy Schrager. The part of Susie is played by Sylvia Picker and that of Lieutenant Kling by Edmund MacDonald. Byrne Carstensen is in charge of production. Box 13 is a Mayfair production from Hollywood. Watch for Alan Ladd in his latest Paramount Pictures.