 Hello, Yukon 208209. Yes, this is Candy Mattson. Did you ever know a girl, Private Detective? Perhaps not. They're pretty rare. Well, we've got one. Candy Mattson is the name. And she's both pretty and rare. Figure? She picks up where Miss America leaves off. Clothes? She makes a peasant dress look like opening night at the opera. Hair? Blonde, of course. And eyes? Just the right shade of blue to match the hair. You're expecting more? Alright, let's meet her. She's on the phone now. In her pet house on Telegraph Hill in San Francisco. Hello, Candy Mattson. Well, bless my ever-loving little old serial number Candy Mattson. Watch out how you go tossing your serial number around, Pelley. Who is this? Candy, I hope you remember me. This is Sergeant Kenley down at Fort Ord. Kenley the Galan. The GI who filled my slipper with beer and drank it. That's me, the poor man's diamond Jim Brady. Sure I remember you. I met you when I was down at Fort Ord with the USO. What's on your mind, Kenley? Wait a minute, I'll put it this way. What's new? Like this is new. We're having a big shindig at the senior non-commissioned officers club tomorrow night. You were elected as the girl most likely. Finish the sentence. Okay. As the girl most likely to be the queen of a ball. Kenley, you mad lad. I'd adore it. But what would I do for a chaperone? I won't. Don't play dull. You heard me. Oh, oh, sure. Well, why don't you bring your mother? Wonderful idea. And I know just the fellow. Roger Kenley. I'll report to the orderly room sometime tomorrow afternoon at Fort Ord. That's the way things happen with me so casually. I'm at home on Telegraph Hill overlooking San Francisco Bay, polishing a few old sapphires when the phone rings. Sounds innocent, doesn't it? But uh-uh. I ran into two rather grisly murders in Monterey. Want some details? Listen. When I told the sergeant I knew just the fellow to be my mother, I met my old pal Rembrandt Watson. In former days Rembrandt, an A1 photographer now that he doesn't imbibe, used to see double by noon, triple by four, and complete darkness by eight. One night the darkness became too dense and he suddenly saw the light. That's when he threw all his bottles out the window. Of course he was arrested for disturbing the peace, but he hasn't touched a drop since. And when I mentioned Rembrandt as my chaperone, I wasn't fooling. He's been like a mother to me many, many times. He was just back from his vacation, so I got in my car and drove over Powell and down California Street. At Grand Avenue stands old St. Mary's, and on the bell tower just underneath the clock, there's a sign that says, son, observe the time and fly from evil. I'd seen it before, but somehow that afternoon it had an added meaning. I parked my car and went across the street to Rembrandt's apartment. Candy. Rembrandt, you old deer, how are you? Wonderful, just wonderful. Darling, you're looking simply grand. Slice it thinner, Rembrandt. You've only been gone three weeks. Sorry, dear. You'll come in, won't you? I'm just having some tea. Won't you join me, Candy? I'd love it. It's all ready. Hopefully big, big, big, Bob. Wait a minute. What was that again? In case you don't know, Dub, that's Bob. Where did you ever pick up Bob? I was visiting a friend of mine last night, a professor of psychology, over at that institution across the bay. California? No, San Quentin. He's a penologist. He played some Bach brickets for me. Well, what do you think of Bach, Rembrandt? They say it's the latest thing. Why, girl, I can remember when they were playing Bach back in 1926. You can? Certainly. Only in those days they called it, vodododio, vodododio-do. Here's your tea, Dub. It's warm. Thanks. What brings you by this afternoon, Candy, dear? You. I've got an invite to a ball for both of us. How delightful. I'll get my grand-martial's uniform out of me trunk. It's not that kind of a ball, Ducky. It's just a dance for soldiers at Vodod. Vodod? That's down in Monterey. That's right. And I want you to go along as my chaperone. Candy, I'd really love it. Good. I'll pick you up at noon tomorrow. Oh, I'm sorry. I have an appointment at two. You run along, and I'll get the Del Monte special. Okay, and I'll pick you up the station in Monterey. Splendid. Splendid. Oh, by the way, dear, I'm just a little... Oh, sure. Here. Take 20. Oh, no, no. Not that much, Candy. No, no, no. Yourself, I insist. I'm so glad you're firm about these things. Thanks ever so much. Not at all. Thanks for the tea, Rembrandt. I'll see you in Monterey. I gave Rembrandt a little chuck under the chin. He quivered his bushy eyebrows, and I left. If I was going to be queen of a military ball, I had to get some royal raiment. I picked up a mantilla and a strapless evening gown you had to hold up by sheer concentration and deep breathing. Then I had a quiet dinner for one, please, James, and went home and climbed aboard the Dream Express quite early. When I woke up, I had the nasty feeling that I had something to do. Then I remembered. I had a date that evening with Mallard. That's Inspector Ray Mallard of San Francisco Homicide. The nomenclature reads, 6-2, white 190, nice features. Smart guy when it comes to solving a crime, but when it comes to talking about us and the future, he freezes up completely. I got dressed and whipped down to the Hall of Justice on Carney Street. Well, Candy, how's Telegraph Hill's greatest lady detective? At the moment, Mallard, dear, I'm just between detects. Kinda slow, huh? No, not slow. I just wrapped up a case. Now I want to take it easy for a few days. I've got news for you, Candy. Such as like what? Such as like I can't keep our date for tonight. Oh, Mallard, I'd been counting on it. I know, Candy. I'm sure sorry. But how did I know this guy was going to do what he did out in the Taravelle District? Playing straight, I say. What did the guy do out in the Taravelle District? He parlayed a sudden impulse into a seat in the gas chamber. How so? He'd done in his old lady. Mallard, don't talk like that. Okay. He ostracized his wife from the world of the living. With a pipe. That's better. Over the head. I get the picture. Anyway, I've got news for you, too. And yours would be? I'd have to break our date tonight, anyway. Uh-huh. I just knew I was going to get stood up. And tonight's the night that Tex Acuff is playing in Loves of Laredo. Candy, it's Acuff's best movie. Acuff will just have to keep his chin up. You're busy in the Taravelle, and I've got to be at a dance at the NCO Club at Fort Orden. Oh, that's right. I am busy tonight. So you're going to Fort Orden, huh? Mm-hmm. Weren't you there a couple of times during the war? That's right. With the USO. That same sergeant still there? The same sergeant. He's the one who asked me tonight. This calls for drastic action. Come here, Candy. Mallard. It was one of those rare moments. Mallard kissed me. Part of me floated out of his office. Then part of me floated back in and picked up the rest of me. Then all of me floated out again. Then I realized I'd forgotten my hat. I went back and got it. Then I saw I didn't have my purse. I went back and got that. Keep this up, and you won't even get past Market Street, let alone the Fort Orden. That and Mallard, he can do the sweetest things sometimes. That was one of them. I got in the car, shifted into Lo, and that's the last I remember until I came to the front of the ranch and Carmill. Obviously, one kiss from Mallard was better than a tank full of 100 proof octane. I registered, got a cabanill out and back, showered, changed, and drove back into town. The drive down must have been dusty because I was extremely dry. So I stopped at Griff's, a cute little place with old theatrical pictures all over the walls. Yes, Miss, would you care for something? Oh, yes, a martini, please. Very dry. Very dry. Right, O? You're new here, aren't you? Yes, I am. I started working here about three weeks ago. I thought so. I was down about a month ago, but I don't remember seeing you. No, the fella who was here became ill. Mr. Griffin hired me. Nice place to work. Oh, yes, it's very enjoyable. Here you are, Miss. Thank you. I know you don't know who I am, but I'm a very good friend of Mr. Griffin's and I came away without any money. Could you cash a check for me? I don't know. I'd like to, but do you have any identification with you? Oh, yes, of course. Here are my driver's license. Mattson. Candy Mattson. Now I know why I thought I recognized you. Aren't you presiding over the dance tonight at Fort Ord? Well, yes, why? I saw your picture on the paper yesterday. Yesterday? What, I only knew about it myself? Yes. Oh, that Kenley. What an operator. I'll be happy to cash your check, Miss Mattson. Good. I'm going to need it. A queen has to scatter a little gold amongst her subjects. The lad cashed my check and I left for the fort. I drove out past Seaside, then on past Ord Village onto the reservation itself. The guard motioned me through the south gate with a wave of his hand and a... yep, still the same old fort Ord. I wove my way through the streets and finally pulled up in front of the senior NCO club. As I got out, there was my pal Kenley coming down the steps in his fatigues yet. Oh, Candy, you beautiful thing, you. Don't you beautiful thing me, Sergeant Kenley. What's the matter? You know what's the matter? They printed a picture of me in the Montray Herald yesterday. Well, what's wrong with that? What's wrong? When the paper came out yesterday, I hadn't even heard about your wingding tonight. Oh, don't be mad, Candy. I've never seen you say no to a worthwhile cause yet. This is a worthwhile cause? That's right. Every cent we take in, we're turning over to the community chest. Oh, well, that puts a different light on it. I know you'd see it that way. Wait a minute. You don't charge for these NCO dances. How are you getting any proceeds out of it? Oh, I didn't tell you, did I? Every half hour, we're having a raffle. The Hassebitter gets a free dance with you. Oh, that Kenley. Well, it was getting dark and the Del Monte special with Rembrandt aboard would soon be pulling in. So I went back to Montray. All of a sudden, I decided to play games. About a mile from town, the train stops at Del Monte itself. I thought it might be cute if I went back, got on the train there and met Rembrandt that way. There she was, coming right in on schedule. I parked the car and went over to the little country-like station. The train wasn't in sight yet. It has to make the bend around Seaside. There it was. Now the headlight was sending its beam down the shining rails. It stood out like a beacon in the Montray twilight. Then... I saw it. The glare of the locomotive's light picked up the crumpled body of a man. He stretched across the tracks in a grotesque manner. Suddenly, my mind flashed, signaled my feet, and I moved. It was a man, all right. The train was getting closer. I grabbed him by his lead-like shoulders and tugged. He wouldn't budge. I tried again, but still no luck. I looked down in desperation. That's when I saw that one of his feet was jammed between the rail and the tie. I gave a gank and the foot came free. Then I grabbed him by the shoulders again. I must have weighed over 200, but little by little, I was getting his body over the rails the day I made it, just as the Del Monte rolled by. The body had fallen over on top of me as I pulled him away from the rails. I shoved him to one side and he flopped over. As he did so, I realized my companion was very cold, very limp and very dead. A card fell out of his pocket and I did the natural thing and picked it up. By that time, the train was pulling out. I tried to catch it, but it was too late. It was only a mile into Montray, so I left my cold friend and drove in after the train. I got snarled in a traffic jam just before I made the right turn into the station. So Rembrandt was waiting for me as I drove up. How nice of you, right on time. Never mind the salutations. Come on, we've got work to do. Don't tell me I'm supposed to take your place at the ball tonight? No. I've discovered a body. Candy, dear, how occupational. How irritational. Come on, let's go. Where? Montray Sheriff's office. But you'll miss the ball, girl. Not tonight, I won't. A darned eel got killed myself. Tonight I'm going to have fun. Let's go. I went over to the sheriff's office. They have a staff of nine men. I placed everything in their capable hands and drove Rembrandt over one of the local hotels. I went back to the ranch, oh, climbed into my strapless queen outfit and went back to pick him up. He came out with a bewildered look on his face. I didn't say anything. We drove along through the Ord reservation and finally I popped the question. Okay, Rembrandt, what's wrong? Nothing, except this. What's this? A card. While I was dressing, a man knocked on my door, shoved this into my hand and told me to tell you about it and left. Let me see it. Here. Careful, dove, don't go off the road. The military wouldn't like that. They dislike messy forts. Wait a minute. Look through my purse, Rembrandt. Precisely for what? For a card that matches this one. Hmm, hmm. Lipstick, lighter, handkerchief. Oh, here we are. Your right candy, it matches exactly. Does it make sense? Not yet. This is a warning, Rembrandt. A warning to keep my nose out of somebody's business. Yes, but what's this on the card? I don't understand. I thought you were studying the cello, Rembrandt, dear. Oh, I am. Then you should know what that is. That's the musical signature for F-sharp. The gent who gave Rembrandt the card had obviously been following us since we left the sheriff's office. Now I knew I was in on something. But what? That body didn't crawl on the tracks all by itself. It was placed there deliberately in hopes the train would mangle all evidence. I'd have to worry about that later. I had a date to keep, and I was going to keep it. Once again, I pulled up in front of the senior non-commissioned officers club. Rembrandt helped me out, and we went in. The joint was really jumping. As we went in, dear old Sergeant Kenley was there to greet us. Oh, candy. I'm glad you're here. I was getting worried. Ha, ha, ha. He's worried. Yes. Ha, ha, ha. I don't get it. Yes, Sergeant. Kenley, I want you to know Rembrandt Watson, my chaperone this evening. You're, uh, you're, uh, glad to know you, sir. You didn't talk down to me, Sergeant. I have campaign ribbons for just such battles as this. Okay, Kenley. When do we start the raffle? Right now. Come on, Candy. If ever a girl gave her all for the army, that was I. I danced until my insteps had insteps. Going on toward midnight, they started another raffle. A dark-looking Sergeant bid $6 and I was to dance with him. Rembrandt was fighting the Boxer Rebellion all over again with some top kick, so I was stuck, but good. Miss Mattson, that was my last $6. You shouldn't have done it, Sergeant. Ah, it was worth it. But if you don't mind, I'd rather not dance. Ah, Sergeant, for those kind words, I make you a lieutenant. No, thanks. I'd rather be a Sergeant. But would you mind walking outside on the terrace? It's awfully stuffy in here. Sergeant, it would be a pleasure. Believe me. We went outside. The night was strictly moderate. Sparkling with stars, not warm, not cold, and a slight smell of sardines in the air. That's good. That meant the canneries were working. But speaking of the smell of fish... Let's go this way, shall we? I... Why? There's a beautiful view of the entire bay from over here. Look, Sergeant, I only came down here to dance. I said come with me. You're hurting my arm. Now wait just a minute, Sergeant. No, you wait, Candy Mattson. I know who you are. You had to come down here where you weren't wanted. You don't seem to understand that I was... You had to go find a body on the tracks. And you ended up with two cards that were identical, didn't you? Give me those two cards. I... I haven't got them. Don't give me that. Where are they? I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't got any cards. Okay, Sister, you ask for it. The sky was whirling, time was nothing. I was in China, I was in Cuba, I was nowhere. Suddenly things came into focus. I was out in the back of the club and Rembrandt and half a dozen GIs were standing over me. Yeah, there, Ducky. You're going to be all right. What happened? I got slugged, that's what happened. And the rat only bid six bucks for the privilege. How do you feel, Dow? Terrible. Oh, Kenny, I feel terrible too. I don't know how this could have happened. Hi, Kenley. Oh, my head. Oh, gee, I... I just can't apologize enough. That's all right. I came down here to be queen of the ball. I got crowned, didn't I? I thank Sergeant Kenley for the party. It was a nice affair. After all, it was no fault of the NTO club or four-door that I got wrapped over the head. So I got Rembrandt in the car and we drove back into Carmel. Rembrandt was quite concerned. He suggested that we stop and I have a touch of Brandy. I didn't argue. We went into Gryff's. Good evening. You wish something? Yes, please. Brandy for the lady. Lemon Coke for me. Brandy and... What was that again? A glass of water. A glass of water again. Hold it. You weren't here this afternoon. No, I worked the evening shift. Frankie's here doing the afternoon. Frankie? That's right. Frankie Sharp. Frankie Sharp. That's when Roman Candles went off and Belle started to ring. Thinking back to the afternoon, the guy who passed my check had one slight characteristic. I remembered as he handed me the money, his cuff links were stamped musically F sharp. I must have had a funny look on my face because Rembrandt spoke. What's the matter, dear? Doesn't the brandy agree with you? No, no, it's not that. I'm trying to put one and one together to make two, but it doesn't add. Looks like they're going to have company. Pardon me, Miss Madsen. I hope I'm not intruding. Not at all, Corporal. Everybody's getting into the act tonight. Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Oh, thank you. I just heard the regrettable news. You're getting slugged at the club. I left just before, I guess. How did it happen? He was a sergeant. He outranked me. Oh, incidentally, my name is Case. Dave Case, fourth MP company, fourth. Glad to know you, Case. This is Mr. Rembrandt Watson. How do you do? How do you do, sir? Where's your decoutrement? What? Your billy club and pistol, your armband, and so on. I don't wear them when I'm not on duty, Mr. Watson. You're in good hands, Candy. I've got to leave. Can't stand the place where they only serve you water. That's what you asked for, Rembrandt. I know. Deal not the temptation, I always say. I do a bet you, Corporal Case. Good night, Candy, dear. See you in the morning. You two just stay and talk over the battle of the bow that knob on Candy's head. Good night, Rembrandt. Does he always duck out on you like that, Miss Madsen? He's a man of whims. That's why I like him. Miss Brandy isn't doing anything for me, but I need some air. Corporal, do me a favor and walk me down to the beach and back, will you? I'd be delighted. We left Grif some walk down Ocean Avenue to the beach. There was a half moon shining down from the east and hitting the waves. It made the ocean look almost luminous. Feel a little better, Miss Madsen? Yes. I wonder what that character hit me with. Come on, Corporal. Let's go along the beach a little way. Aren't you cold? No, this is fine. Wait. Wait a minute, Case. What? Down there. Right at the water's edge. Looks like the body of a man. I... I... You're right. Let's go. We ducked around a clump of brush and hightailed it down to the water. Sure enough, it was the sprawled figure of a man. Every time a wave came in, the body would change position, setting new patterns of crumpled legs and oddly shaped arms. Give me a hand, Case. Help me roll him over. There. Hey. Look at this. What, Miss Madsen? Do you know who this joker is? This is the lad who flattened my skull at the dance tonight. You know, Betty's awfully sorry he did it now. Please. Quite dead. Corporal and I pulled and tugged and I finally got the boy high and dry up on the beach. Then we ran up to my cabin. Operator. They must have closed the switchboard for tonight. Well, you wait here, Miss Madsen. I'll run up into town. There's usually a proud car there at this hour. Okay, but hurry, Corporal. Case slammed out the door and I was left alone. I walked over to the cabinet, got a cigarette and lit it. Lots were going through my head like a roulette wheel, but none of the thoughts were dropping in the right slot. Then suddenly, did you ever get the feeling you weren't alone? That a pair of eyes was watching your every move? I wheeled around. There he was, standing over by the closet door. Good evening. My bartender friend of the afternoon. Enjoying your cigarette, Miss Madsen? Yes, yes, I am, Mr. Sharp. Fine. Drag on it. Drag deeply. The last drag always tastes the best. What's on your mind? You. You've been on my mind ever since you pulled that bottle off the tracks this evening. Was that one of your jobs? Oh, yes. Had you summarized by my musical signature? Wasn't that being rather dramatic? I don't think so. All great artists spend their work. Why shouldn't I? I came here to paint. But they only laughed at me. Jeered. So I decided to paint in a different manner. It was beginning to pay dividends too. But you and the others, you had to spoil it. I could have been paid. Do you understand? I could have owned this whole country. Oh, no, Frankie. You leave too many of your cards around. Recognition. There has to be recognition for everything done in this world. Look up here. I've got another F sharp card, Miss Madsen. So I see. I made it especially for you. About an hour ago. Is that when you held your pal's head under the surf down there on the beach? Shortly after, yes. And now I shall have to work fast, won't I? Your corporal friend with the muscles will be returning with the police. Over there against the war for Miss Madsen. You can't get away with this, Frankie. I think I can. You see, everything I touch must either live or die. In your case, it's too late for the former. So die, you must. Corporal. Get back, Miss Madsen. This guy's nuts. Looks like I'll have to add another. Corporal, you all right? Just got me on the shoulder. All right, Mac, try this. Hang on to his gun arm. I'll try to get him with his lamp. Never mind that. He's going to drop that gun right now. Corporal, down the hall. You'd better hold it, Sharp. I'm warning you. Okay, you asked for it. F Sharp was quite flat. There at the bottom of the stairs. And Sharp, being flat, was a natural. He looked awfully good that way. All I can say is I'm terribly grateful for Fort Ord's highly efficient MPs. Case deducted out to get the police, but halfway down the stairs he heard Sharp's voice in my room. I tiptoed back and listened just long enough outside my door. Just as Frankie had leveled his pistol at my head, case broke through and wrestled the gun out of Sharp's hand. Oh, the rest of the facts? Well, I've got the dissent data right here. Frankie Sharp was a wise boy. He was dishonorably discharged from the army in 1946. He came to the Monterey area with a complete load of army uniforms, fatigues, and general equipment. He set up a little ring of other XGIs with bad records, all dishonorably discharged also, all professional gamblers. On army paydays he'd rig his mob out with GI uniforms. Then they'd gang up on the boys from the camp and take them for all their dough with marked cards and loaded dice. The gang was familiar with army routine, so it was easy for them to make like real soldiers. But Frankie Sharp was keeping too much of the loot for himself, so he decided to set up a new gang. One by one he had his boys marked for sudden and violent death. The first was the guy pulled off the tracks. Sharp and the fake sergeant who slugged me were parked up on the highway watching to see the Delmite special put on the finishing touches. When the gag misfired, they followed me, found out when Rembrandt was staying, slipped in one of their business cards as a warning for me to stay out. But the fake sergeant turned chicken. He didn't want those F-sharp notes all over the area. So he came out to the NECO club, bopped me over the head and got them back. When he returned, Frankie knew the fat was in the fire and that the time to strike was then. So he took his pen all down to the beach, gave him a finger wave and a permanent, the kind you don't wake up from. Then he went back to my cottage to wait for me. Sharp was his own undoing. The poor guy was a megalomaniac and insisted on signing his works of art. His greatest masterpiece, though, was one he autographed. It was called Picture of a Corpse at the bottom of a stairway. Because when we went down to look at his body, he still had his own F-sharp card clutched in his rigid fingers. Corporal Case? Good boy. He's been studying criminology with the United States Armed Forces Institute. He was discharged about a month later and because of his considerable amount of gray matter, was promised the first opening with the Monterey Sheriff's Office. Oh, me, it's beautiful around Monterey and Carmel. The soft ocean, the gently rising goals, especially the one on my head. That's the last time I'm going to be queen of a ball. Listen again next week at this same time for excitement and adventure. Just dial Candy Metzen. Yukon 2-way 209. Heard tonight were John Grover as Sergeant Kenley, Lou Tobin as the Pseudo Sergeant, Kurt Martell as Corporal Dave Case, and Jerry Walter as Frankie Sharp. Henry Leff is Inspector Ray Mallard and Jack Thomas portrays the role of Rembrandt. The program stars Natalie Masters as Candy and is written and produced by Monty Masters. Eloise Rowan was at the organ and sound effects were created by Bill Brownell and Jay Rendon. Corporal David C. Case is an actual person. Any resemblance to other people in tonight's play is purely coincidental. The program came to you from San Francisco. This is Dudley Manlove speaking. You are tuned for the stars on NBC.