 Hello, Yukon 28209. Yes, this is Candy Metzen. I do declare Candy. This is a matter dash and the one made by Paul Riviera. Look out for that man. I see him Rembrandt. I know it. You know it. What does he? What's the reason for this wild scramble girl? I started to explain Ducky. Look at that car up ahead about a block. Yes, it's a police car. That's right. And you know who's driving? Lieutenant Ray Mallard. That's who? A whom? So Mallard's driving. There's no reason to get yourself for such a snit. I imagine the lad's driven before. I'm not worried about the mechanical aspects of placing a car in motion and guiding it to a predetermined terminal. It's the reason behind it that bothers me. What's that reason being what? I don't know what the reason is and that's the rub. For days Mallard's been avoiding me like the plague. I call him on the phone. All I get are muffled sentences. Nothing makes sense. Last night I waited in front of the Hall of Justice and followed him when he left. And where did he lead you, dear? Into a pool room or some such thing? No, pool room. I wouldn't have minded. I shoved a pretty good stick of snooker, you know? At the side of the point, Candy. Come now, concentrate. Where did Mallard lead you? To a small hotel on Ellestree. He met a man in the lobby who was wearing dark glasses. They huddled in a corner and talked for a while. Then Mallard left. I didn't duck back fast enough and Mallard saw me. Oh brother, what a bawling out I got. How strange. With that he got in his car and drove away like frantic. That certainly doesn't sound like Mallard. I called to apologize this morning. He wouldn't even talk to me. And now this. He never drives a squad car unless it's absolutely necessary. Now you've got me curious. Something must be up. You're darn tootin' and I want in on it. Yes. Who does Mallard think he is keeping things from us like this? Oh, he's stopping. I better hold it up right here. He's getting out, Candy. So I see. Look, he's waving up at the middle flat. Do you see anyone in the window up there, Ducky? Yes, a man. I can't quite make out his features though. Yes, yes, he's waving back. Oh, what's Mallard doing now? Going up the stairs and in. How do you like that? Rather delicious, isn't it? Oh, I squirm with intrigue. Well, I squirm too. Come on Rembrandt, squirm out of the car. This is one time I don't mind doing a shadow job strictly for free. From San Francisco, the National Broadcasting Company presents another yarn in the adventures of that attractive, private eye, Candy Mattson, UConn 2, 8209. I knew there was something wrong three days before. Whenever I walk into Mallard's office in the Hall of Justice where he knew tenants for the San Francisco homicide and all I get out of the big guy is an Ugg, some things foul in Dixie. You can play that in any key you like. And the Uggs kept up, mentally and verbally. Add that situation with Mallard's mysterious friend in the dark glasses and you've got something. Especially when new tenant boy stops off at an old flat, waves to a gent, the gent waves back and Mallard goes inside. Now we're all tidy and up to date. We waited for about 20 minutes outside by my car. Two or three other people came and went. Finally, Mallard came out carrying a very small box in his hands. He put it inside his coat pocket. The bulge wouldn't show any more than usual. That's where he keeps his police gun. Then he got in his car and drove off. Rembrandt and I immediately went to work. Object? A social call on our unknown friend in the second floor window. I must say, Candy, this is most mystifying. That it is, Ducky. In all the years I've known Mallard, I've never seen him act like this before. What are we up to now, Dahl? We're going to take a look at the guy Mallard went to see. Find out what he looks like. Sort of a racketease in. Supposing Mallard hears about it. Wouldn't you be even further into the doghouse? Indupidably faithful, old friend. But that's the chance I'll let you take. Here we are. Little flat. This must be one of those babies built before the fire on the quick. Yes, all 1906 conveniences, including a door knocker. I'll give it a blast, Ducky. And as you say, this sort of place gives me a galloping case of depression. Yeah, I know what you mean. All the ghosts of the past half century. Try it again, Rembrandt. Any harder and the building will slide off its foundation. What is this? You could have heard that last knock out of the pheromones. Maybe he didn't hear you. Anyone in the neighborhood would have heard that knock. I'm going to try the door. Voila. Except that it only moves about two inches. Shove on it, dear. My thoughts exactly. It gives a little. Help me, Rembrandt. Very well. Hey, look. Under the door. That's blood. I wouldn't call it ketchup. Come on. Once again, and harder. Oh, my word. That's the polite term. These guys as dead as they come. And look. What, dear? This is the Joe Mallard was talking to the hotel lobby, even to the dark glasses. I wonder what Mallard will say about this. I was wondering the same thing. Come on, Rembrandt. I don't think I feel very well. That was an understatement. I felt worse than that. But I had to follow through now. Our next step took us down to the Hall of Justice for a little visit with Mallard. He was in. Just beat us back by about 10 minutes. He was still wearing the same skull he had on the last time I'd spoken to him. He's still mad at me, Mallard. No, I'm mad at myself. Did you stub your toe somewhere along the line, Minion? Is that it? No, but I'm about to. What do you mean by that, Footflat? You'll find out. And it's all your fault, too. You mean about last night, my following you? No, that was a dirty trick, but I forgive you. It isn't that. Then what is it? Yes. For goodness' sake, stop sounding like a frappany thrill book. I'll say what I have to say in my own good time, and nobody can force me to do otherwise. I've got news for you, Junior. The police can make you talk. The police? What kind of triple talk is this? We followed you out of that flat just now. We saw everything. Oh, the underhanded... So, you know. Yes, but why did you do it, Mallard? Because I'm a fool. Just a plain fool, and I ought to have my head examined. Also, the poor fellow you left out there, he needs his head examined, too. He sure does. He's got a hole in it about the size of 45 slug would make. Wait a minute. What are you talking about? Don't you know? I thought I did. Now, I don't think so. Now, come on, quick. What's this hole in the head routine? He's serious, Candy. I really think he is. Oh, right now I'm serious. Come on, Spell. Okay, okay. I'll tell it to you like you don't know. We followed you out there. You wave up to the second story. Man looks out the window and waves back. Track. You go inside. We wait 20 minutes, further away. You come out with a small object in your hands. You put said object in the inside coat pocket. Good report, most efficient. You drive off. We go up to pay a visit. The host wasn't willing. He'd been shot to death. Oh, brother. And you thought I'd done it? Well. Well, really, Mel, I don't see anything to laugh about. That's because you're not sitting where I am. Sister Suzie, did you get your clues all filed up? Let's get out of here. We got work to do. My mental reflexes climbed on a merry-go-round and whirled gaily for several moments. I was really confused. I didn't have time to do much about it because Mallard whisked us back to the flat. An hour later, the joint had been carefully gone over, photographed, and the body of the poor guy removed to the coroner's office for an autopsy report. It didn't take long to find out that I was right. It had been a 45 that did the dirty work. Rembrandt had to leave, so I went back with Mallard to his office. Still think I had something to do with this thing, Cupcake? Oh, in my heart of hearts, no. But of course not. But Jeepers, look at the facts, Mallard. You've come out, we go up. The guy's stiff as a starch shirt. What would you think? The same thing you thought. Time element is what gets me. Not more than three minutes, it elapsed between the time you left and the time we got up there. No, no. I can account for that, I think. But I'm not going to. As a matter of fact, there are several things I can account for, but I'm not going to. Now who's doing the triple talk? I am, deliberately. I'm going to tell you something, Candy, and listen carefully. You're a cute little old snoop. You've snooped your way into the middle of this thing, and I'm going to toss it right into your lap and let you snoop your way out. And when you come up with the right answers, you're going to get the shock of your life. I am he. I think so, at least it was quite a shock to me. You mean you've got the solution to this deal already? Part of it. You're a much smarter foot flat than I thought you were. I don't know who killed the guy, if that's what you mean. I take it back then. And now you really got me all topsy-turvy. No, this is working out even better than I thought it would. Okay, Tootsie, you've got the ball. It's all yours. Take it from here. You mean you actually want me to help you on this deal? Sure. Who knows? You might come up with something. I'll beat it, will you? I've got to find me a killer. I was so puzzled by then that I wanted to wrap the guy over his head. I fought off the impulse and left. If he gave me carte blanche on the killing, I was going to take advantage of it, if for no other reason than to prove I was right and Mellard wasn't the joker who did it. There's only one place to start, back at the flat where the guy had been done in. The cops had gone, so I did some question work. The landlady lived in the flat below. No, she didn't know the man. A gal named Jennifer Shirley had leased the middle flat for the past five years. I, uh, swung a deal with the landlady, got the key to same. Not the landlady, the flat, and moved in. I had a good night's sleep and waited all the next day. Nothing. The odd thing about the deal was the fact that the cops hadn't been back. They usually return for a double check. So the next night I hit the sack again. About midnight, my dreams of a vine-covered cottage in the country with Mellard were rudely shattered by a sound. The sound of a key in the lock of the door. Oh, there I am, right, Jennifer. Take it easy, everything'll be okay. Who are you? Oh, I'm coming to that. Oh, excuse me. You are Jennifer Shirley, aren't you? That's right. Excuse my night here. If I'd have known you was coming, I'd have gone formal. Just what is all this, and what are you doing in my flat? Where have you been, Jennifer? Seattle? Why? Didn't you read the papers up that way? I was too busy. You know a man named Everett Stone. Of course I do. He's a very good friend of mine. He was up from Los Angeles on business, and I let him use my flat. And now you're here. I don't understand this at all. Look over there, at your front door. Everett Stone was shot to death right on that spot. Everett? Dead? I can't believe it. I'm sorry, it's true. You can prove you were in Seattle, Jennifer. Yes. Here. My plane ticket receipt and the stubs on my luggage. I just got in at the airport less than an hour ago. Just for the record, where did you stay in Seattle? At the Olympic Hotel. We can prove that too, can we? Of course. Now wait just a moment. The shock of all this slowed me down for a second or two. Just who are you and what are you doing here? Simmer down, Jennifer. My name's Matts and Candy Matts, and I'm a private investigator. Oh yes, I've heard of you. I'm trying to find out who knocked off your friend Stone. You got any ideas? Several. So have I. One being this, does everyone around here wear dark glasses? You've got a pair on too. Same kind Everett Stone was wearing. Here, have a cigarette. Thanks. Got something you want to tell Jennifer? Yes, I do. The dark glasses are standard equipment for the type of work we're in. And what would that be? We're gem dealers. Precious stones. Whenever we have a valuable piece of property in our possession, we're required by a bond to wear these dark glasses. A disguise, so to speak? That's right. Whenever it arrived from Los Angeles, he had with him the Cape Hatteras Diamond. You've heard of it? Who hasn't? Who with the butter half of me? That's right. He was on his way to Seattle to show it to a prospective buyer. The first night here, Everett appeared on a television show to display the diamond. And as he left, he knew he was being followed. He called me and asked me if we could make a switch. Wanted to know if I'd take the diamond on up to Seattle and try to make the sale. And he'd stay here, is that right? Right. It was a good switch, except that Everett got himself knocked off for his trouble. Have you got the diamond with you? Right here, in my purse. Look. What a little beauty. And not so little as that. No. The most gorgeous thing I've ever seen. And you just carried it around in your purse like that? Certainly. Who'd think to look in a woman's purse? You've got a point. Lipsy, mascara, street cartokens, loose change, but not a half a million dollar rock. Did Everett say what the man looked like, Jennifer, the one who was following? Yes. He wrote a complete description for me. Have you got it? Also in my purse. Here. Yikes. Miss Mattson, you're white as a sheet. What's wrong? Plenty's wrong. This describes a certain Lieutenant Ray Mallard to a T. From San Francisco, you are listening to a national broadcasting company presentation. Candy Mattson, Yukon 2-8-2-0-9. I slipped out of my 90s, slipped into my street clothes, slipped Jennifer a wet fish handshake, slipped out the door, slipped into my car and slipped home to my penthouse on Telegraph Hill, and from there I kept right on slipping. That description was Mallard's beyond all doubt. What made it worse was the fact that Rembrandt and I had seen Mallard coming out of the flat with a small package that could have been a jewel box. I didn't sleep much that night, and that's for sure. In the morning I put myself together as best I could, and once again made the dismal journey down to the Hall of Justice and into Mallard's office. Are you doing cupcake? Not too well. I have some rather unpleasant news. Such as like what? Mallard Everett Stone was a gembroker. Good for you. You've got clue number one. You knew that? Don't be ridiculous, Candy. That came out of McGuffey's reader. Number two. He had the Cape Hatteras diamond with him when he arrived from Los Angeles. At a girl you're getting warm. He switched the rock to a gal named Jennifer Shirley. She took the diamond on off to Seattle because Everett thought he was being tailed. Hey, you're getting better and better. What's next? You mean none of this is news to you? Old hat so far. Well, maybe this won't be old hat. Everett wrote a description of the guy he thought was following him. He gave it to Jennifer. It's you right on the nose, Mallard Boy. What? It's you. Including the little moe you have behind your right ear. You don't look so good, Mallard, dude. Don't you think you ought to tell me what it's all about? Maybe I'd better. My cat for the life of my figurine. Oh, yeah, man. Sure. Of course. Yeah, let me worry there for a minute, Cup King. Dog gone. What is this, Mallard? I'm getting mad. You'll find out. Oh, I'll find out. But when will I find out? Saved by the bell. Excuse me a minute. Detective Mattson. Oh, sure. Jenna Mallard, homicide. Lieutenant, look six. Yeah, I'll flower it. There's been a dame killed out in that same flat name of Jennifer Shirley. It was then I knew that Mallard was really in the clear. The phone dropped out of his hands and he looked as if he'd been slugged with a belaying pin. Mallard had work to do, so I left. Only this time I didn't go back to the flat. I have, um, tenderloin connections. So putting two and two together, I started making the rounds down around Turk Street. Turk, Ellis, Eddie, the whole section where the Easy Street boys hang out. I came up with nothing. Nothing until I stumbled into a little bar near Eddie Street on Leavenworth. I came face to face with an old acquaintance of mine. Name of the Montgomery, the mole. For crying in my beer, making it salty. Look what the height I just washed in. Hiya, Candy. Hiya, Montgomery. I ain't seen you since in eight. You caught up with me for my power wheelie club. Oh, I'm sorry I had to do that, Montgomery. Oh, I ain't. I ain't gonna be too good for that crumpum. A little second story work ain't too far out of line. I can even swallow a well-executed stick up. But when it comes to kidnapping and murder, uh-uh. Asana's characters draw the line. That's why I'm here, Montgomery. There have been two killings in the last four days. The grapevine must be slipping. I don't hear nothing about no rob-outs. They've been kept quiet for a reason. Just what the reason is, I don't know. Have you heard about any of out-of-town Icemen dropping in the last few days? Nah, nah, not a one. Now look, uh, here's a 20, Montgomery. That's all I've got. I'll send you 20 more first thing in the morning. Memory improving. Ooh, ooh, ooh. Just like I never lost it. Well, is there a jewel boy in town? Look right ahead of you up at the bar. Yeah. That's him. Fiona, hot ice, juggler, my name ain't Montgomery. Got in just about four days ago. Calls herself Finch. Oh, Montgomery, I love you. I'm moving over there. Do me a favor. Tip the bartender off. Tell him to keep my drinks well-watered. It didn't take long. A guy from out-of-town gets lonesome. I was sitting at the bar no more than three minutes, and we were old friends. He kept the drinks coming, and by closing time, he really had a snoot full. He offered to drive me home, and, oh, naturally, I accepted. We got out on the sidewalk, and suddenly he darted back into the tavern. When he returned, he was carrying something in a paper bag. We found his car and climbed in. Don't you think you ought to let me drive, Mr. Finch? Ah, nah, nah, nah, nah. Quite a few. I can handle this little old car. Eh, eh, I'm sorta strange you're here. You'll have to tell me which way to go. Oh, sure. You go straight up Leavenworth here, and then you turn right on Bush. I'll direct you after that. Oh, kiddoke. Oh, you sing real pretty. When'd you say you got into town, Mr. Finch? Oh, but four days ago. Let's see, yeah. Yeah, that's right. What sort of business are you in? Business? I'm a no-business. Retired sorta. Got lots of money. Got lots more, too. Hey, look out for that bag. Oh, oh, I'm sorry. How clumsy of me. Yeah, but why, it's a purse. Why, Mr. Finch? What a bag. I, it's a present from my sister in Riverside. Oh, thoughtful. Turn left on Carney Street, will you? Sure. Then when you get to Washington, turn right one block to Montgomery Street. It's right on the corner. Would you care to come up for a nightcap, Mr. Finch? Hey, now that sounds like a very good idea. Sure. Nightcap. The corner of Washington, Montgomery, is just half a block from Allard's office in the Hall of Justice. With any luck, I could do a bloodless turnover to Lieutenant Boy. I reached down by my side, got my 32 out of my purse, and held it under my coat. We arrived at our destination and Finch helped me get out of the car. There was only one pale light to illuminate the street, which was just what I wanted. There you are. You go ahead a little way. Mr. Finch, there seems to be something wrong with one of my heels. Oh, sure. Don't turn around, Mr. Finch. Not if you value your life. This is a gun. I've got stuff in your back and believe me, I know how to use it. Say what goes on here. I'm almost broke if that's what you ask. This isn't a stickup. See that door up the street in that big building? Just keep walking right on into that door. He started walking and I hung back a few paces. I didn't want to lose this baby. He was too good. Because that purse he had in the paper bag was the one owned by Jennifer Shirley. I'd never be able to forget that purse. Contained the Cape Hatteras diamond. I marched him into Mallard's office and Mallard was in. I gave him the full scoop and in less than half an hour we had one sad Finch behind locked bars with the promise of a full written confession of two killings and one diamond theft. I had never seen anything fall into place so easily. A few minutes after we returned to Mallard's office from putting Finch into his ungilded cage there was a knock on Mallard's door. Come in. His eye gum chew. What on earth did you call me for at this hour of the night or morning? Yeah, come on in Rembrandt. That's ought to be fun. Oh, you do? Yeah. Why aren't you home getting your beauty rest? Oh, we just wound up a couple of killings, dear. Those of Everett Stones and Jennifer Shirley. Well, bully for you. And I had nothing to do with it. Candy did it all. I left her strictly alone and she came through like a trooper. There's only one little thing she's overlooked. When she comes up with that she'll have solved her best and last case. Last case? What are you talking about, Mallard? Captain Mallard. This is Riley on the top deck. Captain Mallard. What is this? Yeah, Riley. We got this finch joker all booked and fingerprinted. He's in the Lysol dip now and we'll tuck him into Betty by for the night. Good. We're changing shifts now. Anything else you want from me? No, Riley. You can knock off. Fine, Captain. Oh, and all the boys up here send down congratulations. Oh, thanks, Riley. See you tomorrow. You? A Captain Mallard? Well, that's right. Well, bye, Joe. Bye. I think that's splendid. Congratulations, Minion. Thanks, Rembrandt. Oh, I'm getting dizzy again. He's a Captain. And what's this stuff about my best and last case? Give out here, Mallard Boy. Doggonnich, you're missing the most important clue in this whole case. Now, let's review it. Go ahead, girl. I'm bursting me buttons. Okay. I first get suspicious when you turn grumpy on me, Mallard. That's when I was wrestling with myself over a decision. That's right. Then you meet this stone guy in a small hotel on Ellis Street. Well, we had business. That's where he wanted to meet me. Then you go out to those flats. You wave, he waves. You go in when you come out. You're carrying something. We go up. Stone is dead. Later, I meet Jennifer Shirley. She shows me the Cape Hatteras diamond. But she also shows me something else. A description written by Stone. A description fitting you exactly. Here, look what was in Jennifer's purse along with the diamond. What? Another description. One that fits Finch. Everett Stone accidentally gave Jennifer the wrong slip of paper, the one that described me. Oh, for Pete's sake. That sure had me worried, Mallard, dear. Isn't there something else that worries you, Cupcake? Yes, there is, darn it. But I can't put my finger up. Wait a minute. That's it. The package. The one you carry down the stairs from that flat. At last. At last, you finally did it, Caddy. Here it is, right here. Open it, seat for yourself. Okay. Well, it is beautiful. What a lovely ring. Did you steal this from Everett Stone? Sure did. The price he gave me made it a first-class deal. Why won't you try it on? I'd love to. Oh, I don't think you're putting it on the right finger, Caddy. Well, which finger do you mean, Mallard? Third finger, left hand. Oh, you... You don't mean that. Tell me. I want you to be my wife, Candidia. Say it again, will you, Mallard, dear? This is only another one of those fool dreams of mine, I'm sure. Ah, it's not a dream, Cupcake. I mean it. More than I've ever meant anything in my life. Will you marry me, Candy? You big idiot, you don't need the answer to that. I wasn't asking you. Oh, yes, I'll marry you, Captain, dear. Forever and ever. Do you see now what I meant about this being your best and last case? Yes, but you're wrong. I have another and a bigger case coming up. Ah, what's that, you little monkey? Just trying to be an awfully good wife to you. My word, I was wondering... What, Rembrandt? When you're married, how shall I address you? Oh, that's easy. Just Mrs. Captain Mallard. Well, I won't even have to change my initials. For excitement and adventure and romance, just dial... Candy, Matt, I mean, Mallard, uh, Mrs. Captain Ray. Yukon 2-8-2, that won't be my phone number. Gee, I'm so confused, I don't know what I'm saying. Heard on the program were Jerry Walter as Montgomery the Mole, John Grover as Finch, and Helen Clebe as Jennifer Shirley. Jack Thomas is Rembrandt Watson, and Henry Leff is Captain Ray Mallard. The program stars Natalie Masters as Candy, and is written and directed by Monty Masters. Sound effects are created by Bill Brownell and Eloise Rowan as heard at the organ. Our engineer was Phil Ryder. The characters in the story were entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people or names is purely coincidental. The program came to you from San Francisco, and this is Bud Heidi speaking. This is NBC, the National Broadcasting Company.