 Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker's road and those who travel it wind up in the gutter the prison of the grave. This time I tangled with a mad Scotchman, a phony English lord and a beautiful blonde corpse in a freight house all because of a butler who walked on his knuckles. It happened like this. From the pen of Raymond Chandler, outstanding author of Cry In Fiction, comes his most famous character in The Adventures of Philip Marlowe. Now with Gerald Moore, starred as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's exciting story, The Monkey's Uncle. This is Marlowe. Wait a minute, wait a minute. Who are you? Who's Cornelius? Where are you calling from and about what? Let's have it a slow step at a time, huh? All right, lead on, McDuff. Ashley who? Yes, but my first reaction was to forget the whole thing. Curiosity is strong stuff with me. Any triumvirate labeled Wesley McDuff, Lord Ashley, Duke and Cornelius had to add up the screwball no matter where you started. The word kill was still big in my vocabulary, so I buttoned the office up quickly, got down in my car and drove over to the Beekman Plaza Hotel where a ten-minute stand in the lobby produced nothing closer to worried Scotchman than the plaid covering in a sagging Morris chair. And at the reception desk there was no Wesley McDuff registered or ever heard of. I'm sorry sir. So at that I was ready to call it quits. I turned for the door, but before I got there I was stopped. The uniform said bellhop and the sprinkle of freckles plus barn cowlakes said all-American boy. But the shifty eyes and the narrow mouth that slid over to the side of his face when he talked said something else, like racetrack tough. Say, pardon me sir, but I happened over here you asked after a Scotchman. Wesley McDuff was it? Yeah, you know where he is? Well, yes, and yes, and how much? Ten? Five. Okay, sport five. But let's get out of the traffic, huh? Over here on this map, like I was pointing out something to you. That's a fresh idea. Thanks. The fiver? Oh, here. Now, where's McDuff? On his way to Burbank, dead drunk. You're crazy. I talked to him less than half an hour ago. He was tone sober and a long way from the party mood. Could be, but 15 minutes ago I helped Lord Ashley Duke pile him into a cab. Wait a minute, wait a minute. Lord Ashley Duke, how does he fit? He found this McDuff in the alley outside. I was just coming back from dinner when I saw him pick the guy up. He couldn't say a word. But a blue shield medical card we found in his wallet, Red Wesley McDuff, 13, Vinelland Avenue, Burbank. Boy, he was out colder than my old man. Now, listen, Junior, here's another five. Tell me in fast, who's Lord Ashley Duke? A nightclub character, entertainer. Lives here with his wife, Lady Ashley Duke, when they're in LA. Well, is he legitimate, this Lord business? No, but he plays it to the hilt. Well, we piled that McDuff into the cab. He dusted his white gloves off genteel-like, slipped the monocly wears into his eye, and grabbed another cab and shoved. He's a phony. His real name is Bird Dukes, and my lady is Gert, and on her it shows... What do you mean shows? That the second she gets behind her door, they got Suite 312. She climbs out of her accent like it was a tight girdle. Especially when she and that niece of hers go at it. Yes, sir, the famous Merrimack cabins are on Route 66 near St. Louis. Oh, good evening, Mr. Fisher. Good evening, Tom. Okay, where were we? The niece, the niece. Oh, yeah, quite a doll. Her name's Merle Brimmer. Acts as a business manager, so she must also have brains. And tell me, who's Cornelius? Cornelius. What's breaking you up? Who is he? Nobody but the star of the act. The Lord and the Lady do a farce thing, a take-off on English drawing room stuff, and Cornelius plays the butler. Plays it in a Derby in a boiled shirt, no less. Oh, why the giggles? You've seen a Derby in a boiled shirt before? Yeah, sure I have. But on Cornelius it looks different. You see, Mr., he's a chimpanzee. The affair Cornelius definitely added screwball. But I also knew that prospective client Macduff had been sapped and piled into a cab for good riddance, which could add to less than funny. So I decided to look around a little longer, especially in the vicinity of my lady's chamber, number 312. When I stepped out of the elevator on the third floor, an old-faced waiter was just piloting a dinner cot loaded down with dirty dishes out of the room. And when the cot juggled out of the car to rug it nearly upset a coffee pot, which left the waiter's mind on the juxtaposition of cot and pot and not the door. Here he'd left open inches. I waited till he passed me. Then I moved up to where I could both see and hear Lady Ashley Duke and her niece Merle, exploding at each other through an after-dinner conversation. The former was built like an upended blimp with as much charm as a mooring mast. The latter was blonde and female, spy-beautiful. And also she was nonchalantly slipping a shiny 32-automatic from desk drawer to purse. Oh, now wait a minute, Gert. Before you snap a stay, you listen to me. Why? So you could explain once more how a poor uncle Bert's idiotic mistakes are just bad luck. Ten thousand bucks were the bad luck, nuts. Bert don't know anything about investments. He shouldn't be allowed to touch a red scent. And my pretty, from here on out, that's exactly the way it's gonna be, believe me. Got it, Gert. And quit blaming Uncle Bert and me. Are you kidding? Why shouldn't I blame the two of you? He's a jerk and you... I never wanted you with us in the first place. My niece. Ha! Oh, shut up. And remember, dear aunt, your husband likes me around. I'm good for his morale, he says. He'll never let you fire me. So don't waste your breath, auntie. Get out of here. Go on, get down to the freight house and keep your eyes open. We don't want to lose Cornelius. Don't worry, darling. Guard duty's an old specialty of mine. Yes, who is it? Name's Marlowe. I'd like to see Lord Ashley Duke. Oh, well, I... Oh, wow. Ah, yes. He's not in, but what did you want to see him about? Oh, a business. Can you help me? Perhaps. You see, I'm his business... So she used to be his business manager. She was just leaving. Weren't you, Merle Darling? Yes, Merle Darling was. Mr. Marlowe, Lady Ashley Duke. Goodbye, auntie. Unhappy, huh? Oh, well, well. Now, sir, to save each other's time, let me be blunt. Lord Ashley Duke is no longer interested in making any investments whatsoever, nor will he be interested at a future date. Is that clear, sir? Yes, like well water, Lady Ashley Duke, and if I were looking for an investor, I'd keep it in mind. But, you see, I'm a private detective working for Wesley McDuff. A paper? A lousy paper? You're pushing his way in here while you're... Easy, easy, Gertie. Let go. Get your filthy hands off me. Sure. Just as soon as you get back in a neutral. I also want to save us time, and I want to save Cornelius, too. How do we talk a wrestle, witch? Oh, all right. Seven weeks ago, Lord Ashley Duke and I bought Cornelius from that crazy monkey racer out in Burbank. We paid McDuff $30,000 for a run-down 17-year-old chimpanzee. Well, then why do you want to kill him? Yeah, McDuff's crazy. Just because we change our minds, and instead of staying here in LA, decide to go on the road. McDuff thinks Cornelius will catch cold and die. So he wants him back. Yeah, but you'll get your money back. Yeah, but what about the seven weeks of work just to teach him to drop a glass? Not only that, he's a wonderful imitator. I can see your point. Besides a deal's a deal. Now, we're taking the risk of Cornelius' death, not the loon who runs that Burbank animal farm. Well, that scotchman thinks every animal in the joint's related to him. It's an old idea, honey. But look, lady- At what? We've had our talk, people. Now, get up. Go on. Go on. Get out before I forget I'm a lady. Over here, Tompkins. What is it? A telephone call, sir. Boot four this way, please. Make that all right up there? Jim Dandy. Good. Now, if you feel I was on the page... I feel we came out even, Buster. Besides, I'm running low on farthings. Unless... Yes? You know where the Freight House Cornelius calls home is located. Uh-uh. Blank. Okay. So long, Tompkins. Hello. Mr. Monroe? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, are you all right, McDuff? Uh, it is going to discover in many minutes. What do you mean? That I've run out of patience. Oh, now, wait a minute. Now, look, man. I want you to be me... You can't steal it, McDuff. Yeah. McDuff, I can't go along with that. Then I... Besides McDuff, you'll never get away with it. There's a girl, Ashley Duke's niece, who's got a gun. And I... McDuff. McDuff! From the phone booth through the lobby and in my car outside, I kept telling myself three things. One, I wasn't working for McDuff. Two, McDuff was about to commit a crime. And three, I couldn't worry about the gun and Merle Brimmer's purse. It was all none of my business. So, when I was in behind the wheel of my car, I pointed it toward my apartment on Franklin, lit a cigarette and forgot about the whole thing. But a block later, I threw the cigarette out, turned and headed for Pershing Square. Scots with animal farms in Burbank obviously weren't the only crazy people in Los Angeles. After arriving at Pershing Square, I was 30 minutes piling up wisecracks, frozen stares and assorted giggles before I hit pay dirt. A bottle boy with a great memory. Yeah, sure. I know the place. Only spot around in the ship live animals or the rest of the stuff that they handled. Anything from a needle to an elephant. How about pink ones? They got those, too. That's what I thought. Yeah, I worked there once during the Christmas rush. Made the price of a fifth in one day. Now, look, look, you'll do it again right now if you can tell me one thing. The address. What is it? It's 44... Come on, come on. 42... Stick with it. 4th Street. And a boy. Here's five. Crawl back in a bottle. I'll see you. The neighborhood was half-residential, half-industrial, and all rundown, including the Freight House, which was two windowless stories of dirty red brick, hovering over a loading ramp on a deserted shadowy street. I thought it slowly taught it when suddenly a side door flew open and an excited old man with flashlight and giant key ring that spelled Night Watchman leaped out of the building arms and legs going like twin beaters on a Mixmaster. Help me, I can't catch you myself. Hey, hey, pop, hold it. Is it the chimp? Yes, and he's raising the roof in there. Yeah? If I shoot him, I'll be fired. He's worth a fortune. Yeah, I know all about it. Come on, I'll give you a hand. Oh, okay, good. Well, let's go. Where is he? Upstairs, hanging in one window at the back. I just turned the lights on and there he was. Oh. When he seen me, grabbed a stick from the floor and started beating things with it. Oh, fine. And then he broke the window and began to swing on the blocking tackle that runs outside from the roof to the ground. Look, there he is. Yeah, still beat him. Hey, pop, he's gonna fling it. All right, pop, we better call the cops. Over there. Near his empty cage. It's a girl. Blood all over her head. Holy smoke. Merle Brimmer. Beat the death with a stick the chimp just threw at us. Then, then you think the monkey did it? I don't know. Maybe yes, maybe no. He's a great imitator. Pop, it could have been somebody else. Not the monkey, then who? Who else? A monkey's uncle. A Scotchman named Mac Duff. In just a moment, the second act of Philip Marlowe. But first, Groucho Marx will make another of his famed personal appearances on most of these same CBS stations this Wednesday night. Groucho Marx, whose many activities include emceeing You Bet Your Life, one of the craziest quiz shows on the air. You're cordially invited to hear Groucho Marx every Wednesday on CBS. Now with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlowe. In tonight's story, the monkey's uncle. I walked around the body of a girl on the freight house floor. I took a close look at the cage lock. There was no doubt that it had been forced from the outside. The watchman staring down at the body was shaking like a motorcycle with square wheels. I took him by the arm and walked him down the stairs and outside with some air. It's terrible. I don't know what to do. Nothing like this ever happened here before, and the boss never told me what I'm supposed to do in a case like this. Well, it's easy. Just call the police. The police? Yeah. Also the SPCA and Frank Buck. Chances are we'll need them all before the night's over. Okay, Mr. Sangsash. Hey, who's that getting out of that cab? From the top hat cap and spats. I'd say it was one lord, Ashley Duke, the legal owner of the chimp. What are you two blighters staring at him out of my way? Just a moment. Just a moment before you go inside. I want to talk to you, Lord Ashley Duke. You know my name, do you? Well, now, my job. That's interesting. I don't know you, sir. I'll survive. Why'd you come down here tonight? Because I heard that my niece was here, protecting my property. And that's no suitable task for a girl not capable to do that sort of thing, you know? There's a man's job, you know? And a beastly time finding the place, too. You haven't been here before, huh? Oh, yes. A couple of days ago. That was in broad daylight. One thing more. Did you slug Wesley McDuff tonight and dump him in a cab? Just who are you, anyway? Private Detective Philip Marlowe's name. Sounds British enough. About as British as you are. Oh, yes. And you, I presume, are the watchmen. Yes, sir. That's me, Your Highness. What about McDuff, Your Highness? There's no choice. The blighter wanted to welch on the transaction we've made. I refused and he threatened me. So I bopped him. Made out he was intoxicated, you know? Packed him off in a cab, you know? Oh, yes. When a man sells me a monkey, that monkey is mine. I thought that treatment might bring McDuff to his bloody senses. Well, it didn't. It made him tougher. And what's more, the chimpanzee is gone. Cornelius is gone. Wait a minute. Come on. What's happened to him? Oh, no. Merle. Merle, baby. That's the way she was when we found her. And that crazy monkey was in here and down like he was throwing a fit. It was McDuff. McDuff. That's who it was. Madman. I don't know, but I'm going to find out. You stay here. The company architectural blunder next door was one of those big gingerbread houses left over from the 1800s. And I got there just in time to meet the witch. The scaly front portal was jerked open in front of me and there she stood. Like a pool cue and high panicked top by a head of brittle orange hair half down up tightened curlers. The other half streaming over her face. I was alone with one hand and me with the other one. Hold it. What's going on? Oh, that face. What face? Calm down and tell me what happened. I was upstairs in my room taking my shirt down. When I happened to look over at the window and before I took the cue, I missed it. And hair all over it. One of them giant gorillas got in the moon. That's Cornelius, all right. Where's the room? Up there at the head of them stairs. Come along. Cornelius is a trained chimp. He won't hurt you. Oh, you mean he can't get through to the alley? Yeah, yeah, that's right. All right, come on. Let's get outside. We got him cornered. Oh, you got him cornered, baby. Mr. Not me. I don't want nothing more to do with that ugly pool. The air shaft was a scant 18 inches wide and as dark and cluttered as the inside of a goat pen without as to mesh. I worked my way back as far as the bashful light from the street leech. Oh, be careful in there, mister. And I stopped and listened. But Cornelius was a genius. There wasn't a sound. I couldn't see my hand in front of my face because there was nothing of a black-haired chimpanzee who was, no doubt, getting a big kick out of the entire procedure. I decided to try psychology on him. So I called and what I hoped was a firm but friendly voice and it got me no place. I groped my way along the wall of the drain pipe and called again. This time shorter on the friendly and longer on the firm, which was a mistake. The drain pipe should have given me a hint, but it didn't. Oh! What's the matter? He's gone. Who's gone? That gorilla. It was up on the drain pipe. It hit you on the head with something that ran right past me and got away in a taxi. Oh, come on. Let's get out. Wait a minute, baby. I could have sworn you said the monkey took a taxi. Yeah, you did. I watched the whole thing. Oh, my. As soon as it got out in the street, a man in a checkered tan with a crooked stick in his hand came out from between them buildings over there and called it. They ran up to a taxi. The driver jumped out and they drove away. I don't think you took the cue as soon enough. Well, I seen something else, too. A fat breed in a high hat and spats came charging out of the freight house there. Saw the cab leaving, got in a green coupe that was right in front and took off. Holy smoke, that's my car. Oh, it's gone. How do you like that? Yeah. Now maybe you believe me, huh? Every screwy word, sweetheart. Now look, you didn't happen to see... No. Well, look, that's the cab driver there. Did anybody see what happened? I gotta have a witness. My taxi was hijacked off of me by two crazy guys. One of them looked like an ape, exactly like an ape. Move over, bud. We're on the same raft. My car's gone, too. Tell me what happened. Will you start at the top? Okay. Tonight I bring this big shot in a high hat down here to the freight house. He hops out, tells me to wait, see? Yeah. So I drive down the block and turn around. I park right over there trying to grab a quick 40-winks. When up comes this loon... A Scotchman? Yeah, that's him. He throws me a fast address and starts getting in, see? I politely tell him the flag is down. But he keeps coming. Yeah, I know. It's just like him. Now look, did you ever see this Scotchman before? No, never. I figure maybe he's got a snoot full of happy days. Nothing more. So I'm reaching over to block him when a pair of hands that feels like a doormat with muscles grabs me around the neck. I twist around and look, and what do I see? Cornelius. Him I don't know, but an ape man is crawling in my wind. So help me, I'm rubbing noses with a missing link. Yeah, I know. Then what happened? Mac, I jump out of the taxi, and before I know it, the old geezer gives me a claw with his stick, piles in, the next thing my taxi is gone just like that. You gotta believe me, somebody's gotta bug me up. If I try this on the cops, they'll have me in a padded cell in no time. Don't worry about it, fella. Just reach hard for that address the Scotchman gave you. Can you remember it? Oh, sure. Let me see. It was the... The Rushmore. That's down at the Hills Motel out on Vernon. Somewhere around the Beverly Boulevard. Ed Nations. Oh, stepped on something here on this sidewalk. Oh, you sure did, cutie. Smashed it too. It looks like somebody's watch crystal. Sure, lady's watch crystal. Oh, nice one. See, it had this hunk of black ribbon with it. Lady's one. Hey, wait a minute. Let me see that. Sure, here. Velvet, see? Yeah, yeah, sure is. It doesn't fit not here. No one's been here but the three of us in the chimp. So long, kids. Hey, hey, wait. Where are you going? I'm going to talk to a liar about a murder. I'll see you later at headquarters, I hope. Talk to the night watchman in the freight house. She'll be good for each other. I was two blocks on foot finding another taxi and 15 minutes getting from there out to the motel, worrying all the way. Because I'd left my gun under the front seat of my car. Business was slow at the Rushmore. The only cabin that showed light was the last in the rear next to the alley. I was sure of what I'd find inside. In spite of the fact that neither the stolen cab nor my coop was any place in sight. When I heard the voices, I decided to bluff it. I went up to the front door and pressed my ear against the flimsy panel. Anyway, a bargain's a bargain, but, Duff, you'd have done better to stick by it. I'd have stuck by it if you had your scurvy crook. Don't reach for your chain. I was a little late for that. You're in a real jam now. I'm going to see you blame for my niece's murder. But I didn't kill her. I pushed her down. She got me unlocking Cornelius Cage and tried to stop me. But I didn't kill her. You did that. Yes, yes, but who knows that? Except you and the monk there. And he can't talk, and you won't believe me. Ah, you daft man. Why did you do it? Because I had to. Because Merle was bleeding me to death. Every cynic laid my hands on. I had to buy her silence. I had to pretend to lose thousands and poor investments. Well, Merle got what was coming to her and you gave me that chance. I found her on the floor where you left her and simply finished the job. Then you ran off and came back in that taxi 15 minutes later, the very spirit of innocence. I saw you. Very well, Lord Ashley Duke. You've got me as a thief too, so get on with it. Get on with it. Filt the evil plan. I'm ready. Don't be in a hurry, McDuffs. Here we are, Ashley. Don't bother turning around. Just drop the gun. Oh, I knew you'd know. Let me down, lady. I knew it. What's this, old boy? Skip the accent, Bert. You won't need it where you're going. Drop that gun, I said. Or you'll move. Shoot me with that pipe in your pocket. I've got your gun here in my hand and you know it. Want a bet? Well, with the light out. Yes, Ashley! Oh! It's a very strange thing, lad. He hit you but once. There are two lumps on your skull. You can miscondition. Never mind. Skip it. I don't want to talk about it. Where's Ashley? Thrust up there in the corner. He should be coming around soon. Cornelius, as you've no doubt learned, is a great imitator. When he saw Ashley bat you on the head with a gun, he grabbed McCain, leaped up on the dresser there, and batted Ashley on the head. Oh, no. Not with this headache. I'll tell me I'm indebted to that. Just when I was learning to hate him. We both are. For our lives. But tell me, what does a black velvet ribbon and a watch crystal mean? He mumbled that over and over while you were out. Well, that's how I knew Ashley was a liar and a killer. See, the cab driver stepped on a round piece of glass that looked like a watch crystal with a ribbon attached. Happened on the sidewalk in front of an air shaft. Actually, the... Actually, the glass was a monocle. Oh, drop my lord, Ashley Duke, eh? No. Ashley'd never been at that spot. No? But if Cornelius had, and if Cornelius dropped a monocle, it indicated that Lord Ashley Duke had been someplace with Cornelius early at night, you see? That could only be the freight house. And Ashley claimed he hadn't been there for two days. Oh, I see. Oh, you do. Oh, my head. How about you, Cornelius? Yeah, well, that's one of the best answers I've had tonight. It didn't take long at police headquarters. Maybe an hour altogether. A killer was locked up for trial and the key witness ate three erasers, spilled a quarter of ink and broke a window. And the other side boys finally gave up. I watched the phony lord Ashley Duke walk down the corridor to his cell. Any connection he had with man was just the category. And I watched McDuffin Company leave, too. A couple of regular guys. A monkey. A monkey's uncle. A genuine old Scot who loved life. And his shuffling friend whose only limitation was his inability to speak. But he communicated all right. In the only language that means anything. Love of one creature for another. The Adventures of Philip Marlowe bringing you Raymond Chandler's most famous character, star Gerald Moore are produced and directed by Norman McDonnell and are written for radio by Robert Mitchell and Gene Levitt. As a special note of interest, Philip Marlowe fans, you'll be glad to know that Radio and Television Life Magazine has this week named Gerald Moore as the best male actor in radio. Featured in our cast were Mary Lansing, John Daener, Tudor Owen, Sam Edwards, Michael Ann Barrett, Harry Bartell and Junius Matthews. This special music is composed and conducted by Richard O'Rant. Be sure and be with us again next week when Philip Marlowe says... This time a case-hardened car hop knocked me down a flight of stairs. An honest woman was strangled by a green silk sash and a simpering dandy was shot to death. All because of a run-of-the-mill traffic accident 500 miles away. You hear them all on CBS and one of the funniest parts of that all comes from the birdbrain of a woman, Miss Gracie Allen of Burns and Allen. Top troopers on the American stage for years, top radio stars after that, George and Gracie are now playing a big part in CBS's Great Wednesday Night lineup. Bing Crosby, Groucho Marx, George and Gracie, Dr. Christian Join George Burns and Gracie Allen this Wednesday night on most of the same CBS stations. This is Roy Rowan speaking. Now, stay tuned for Pursuit, which follows immediately over most of the same CBS stations. This is CBS where Burns and Allen are heard every Wednesday night at the Columbia Broadcasting System.