 the hair-raising adventures of Sam Spade, detective. Off to you by the makers of Wild Root Cream Oil for the hair. I'm Spade Detective Agency. It's me, Effie. Oh, Sam, I've been worried about you. Sid Weiss was just on the phone, and he says digging up a corpse without a permit is against the law. It's all right, Effie. I just dug him up to say hello and put him back again. Oh, Sam. I'll be down in a couple of minutes to dictate my report, sweetheart. If I get lost on the way, you'll find me in City Hospital, the Psycho Ward, third straight jacket from the left. MUSIC Dashel Hammett, America's leading detective fiction writer and creator of Sam Spade, the hard-boiled private eye, and William Spear, radio's outstanding producer, director of mystery and crime drama, join their talents to make your hair stand on end with the adventures of Sam Spade. Presented each week by Wild Root Cream Oil, the non-alcoholic hair tonic that will put your hair back in place again, grooming it neatly, naturally, the way you want it. Fellows, if a girl can spend half an hour under a hot dryer and a beauty parlor to look her best for you, certainly you can spend half a minute sprucing up with Wild Root Cream Oil hair tonic to look your best for her. That's all it takes. And Wild Root Cream Oil grooms your hair neatly and naturally, the way girls like to see it. Besides, it relieves dryness and removes loose dandruff. There's not a drop of alcohol in Wild Root Cream Oil. It contains lanolin. So get the big economy-sized bottle at your drug or toilet goods counter. And now, Wild Root brings to the air the greatest private detective of them all in The Adventures of Sam Spade. August 2nd, 1946. Two Mrs. Gregory Denov. Subject, death of Dr. Denov. I was sitting in my office with nothing to think about except a horse named Corkscrew Jr. My secretary, Effie Perrine, came in and said there was someone outside. I didn't look up from the dope sheets so she said it again. Someone outside, Sam. What's he look like? Blue double-breasted custom-made suit, count of Maratay, hand-tailed shirt, English shoes, hand-trim, van dyke. Get me a blank check and send them in. OK, Sam. Mr. Spade will see you now, sir. Thank you. Mr. Spade, Sam Spade. What can I do for you? I'm Dr. Gregory Denov, a psychoanalyst. I need your help. Lie down, doctor, and tell me all about it. I see you might also be noted for your sense of humor as well as your discretion. Who told you I was discreet? A man named Nikolaitis. You tell Nikolaitis, I think he's cute, too. What else does he say about me? That I can trust you with $10,000. Is this Mr. Nikolaitis when he had patients? No, no, he isn't. As a matter of fact, he's gotten possession of some private records of mine. Well, it's rather involved. Nikolaitis is shaking you down, and he picked me as the middleman, is that it? This is not an ordinary case of blackmail. Blackmail is blackmail, even if you do it in Technicolor. Well, as you may know, a psychoanalyst keeps a faithful transcript, a detailed record of everything a patient says during consultation. No matter how intimate or shocking. This man, Nikolaitis, has managed to gain possession of a copy of one of these case histories. The patient is a very celebrated person, and should this material be divulged, it may have very serious consequences of both my patient and for me. Doctor, your best bet's the San Francisco police department. No, no, that's out of the question. Then I'm afraid I can't help you. Why not? Nikolaitis said the truth. I'm a private detective. When I take on a client, I take on his troubles. My job is to protect him, not to stand by and see him milked. You want to hire me on that basis, I'll listen. I'm so tired, I must trust somebody. What can you do for me, Mr. State? Write me out a check for $1,000. Get a pen, yeah. All right. You see, Nikolaitis figures that if I'm getting a cut, I'll have to keep my mouth shut. I'll spend it all the same. Here you are. Thanks. Now, what was the last thing Nikolaitis told you? That he would pick up the $10,000 here and deliver to you this file in question. Can you reach him? Yes. Call him. Tell him you've seen me. Tell him I won't do that kind of business in my office. Tell him to come to your house. I'll be there. What if he refuses? He won't. Tell him I have the whole $10,000. What time? How about in an hour? No, no, I'm sorry. We'll have to make it around three-year. Oh, goodness, I'm late. Now, I really... That's a beautiful watch, Mr. Denner. Yes. Foreign? Yes. Massive? My watch? Why, really, Mr. Spade, I'm very late. I have so many things to do, and I have to be at the majestic theater well before the matinee starts at 2.30. Are you going to see me at 3 o'clock? Are you going to the theater? Oh, I'm not going to stay for the performance. Well, Mr. Spade, till 3 o'clock then. Oh, my office is in my apartment. The address is here on my card. It's the penthouse. Penthouse, huh? OK, doctor, I'll come formal. I'll wear the top to my bathing suit. My office around 2.30 and started walking up Knob Hill. The Versailles apartments where Denner's place was took up the whole 300 blocks, so I didn't have any trouble finding it. I stopped across the street for a minute to get my breath after the uphill climb, mopped my face, and started across, just as I got to the middle of the street. Pactins are close around. I couldn't see who'd done the Brody, but I had a pretty good idea. The cops had the sidewalk roped off, and guards posted at the building entrance. They took me maybe 20 minutes to elbow my way through and show my credentials. Sergeant Levine had the front door, so they let me in. Lieutenant Dundee of Homicide met me at the door of the penthouse. Hi, Sam. What do you want? I want to see Dr. Denner. The doctor is dead. Dead? Yeah. He's my client. They can't do this to me. How? Hit a Brody out the window. What are you here for? To see his wife. OK with you? Why not? She's inside. Thanks. Please. With all due respect for your grief, I must have the keys to the cabinet where Gregory kept his confidential files. You realize that he wished me to take charge of his patients and that I am responsible. All this police and so on, we must get those files out of here as soon as possible. Yes? My name is Spade. I am Dr. Zoya. I was poor Dr. Denner's oldest friend. I'd like to see you, Mrs. Denner, alone. But you police have already asked her so many questions. You see, she's not in there. I'm not with the police. I'm a private detective. I was working for Dr. Denner. A private detective? He was in trouble, you see? You see, Dr. Zoya, the police won't believe me. Mr. Spade, you'll tell them. You'll tell them he didn't commit suicide. Well, Mrs. Denner, I guess that takes care of everything here. It's clearly suicide. Idiot, I'm stupid. Idiot, suicide. My husband, he treated suicides. He would never. No, please. It will be all right, my dear. I'm sorry. She's hysterical. If I had the time, I would tell them. Please, Mrs. Denner, the undertaker has been arranged for a burial at 7 o'clock at the Israel Cemetery. Now, please, the key to Gregory's fires. Here, take it and go. Go ahead, all of you. OK, we'll recall you now. I'm so sorry, gentlemen. This hysteria is simply traumatic condition, if I only had the time. Who can I turn to? You think it's pleasant. You think my husband would rest if they said I committed suicide? What shall I do? What shall I do? What shall I do? Dr. Zoya didn't have the time, either, if I. You think it's murder? Who do you think killed your husband? To name someone. That's a very serious charge, Mr. Spade. Goodbye, Mrs. Denner. Constance Brent. You mean Constance Brent, the actress? Yes. She was his last patient this morning. She had threatened to kill him before. How do you know? My husband said so. To you? Well, he'd written it down on his notes on her case. Once before, she'd almost pushed him from that same window. How about your husband and Ms. Brent? Oh, I knew she was falling in love with my husband. That always happened. They call it a transference. But in this case. Your husband told me Ms. Brent was acting in a play this afternoon over at the Majestic. Yes, midsummer night's dream, but she was here. I know she was here. Ms. Ray, the receptionist, was coming back from lunch when she heard voices arguing inside. And she was sure it was Ms. Brent's voice. Show me the doctor's case history on Ms. Brent. I can't. It's missing. As soon as it happened, I went to the files I meant to show it to the police. Who could have taken it? Constance Brent was the last one in that room before he died. Yeah. When did you see Nicolaitis last? Nic who? Skip it. Where can I reach you in case? For the next couple of hours, I'll be at the Majestic Theater. I want to see how good an actress this Constance Brent is. It's Brent's dressing room. What do you want? I want to talk to Ms. Brent. Well, you can talk to me. I'm her husband. So you're Mr. Brent. I'm Jonathan Wallace. She's Mrs. Wallace. And what do you want with my wife? I've come to tell her that Dr. Denov is dead. Are you sure? You tried falling from a 12th floor window sometime. Well, that's the best news I've heard this year. I'm afraid it would be a shock for Constance. Maybe, maybe not. She was the last person to see him alive as far as anybody can make out. Are you from the police? No. I'm from the insurance company. Claims investigate. What do you want to see Constance for? The policy wasn't made out to her, was it? No, made out to his widow. But she can't collect. Police say it was suicide. That settles it. This is the last time I play to Tanya. Stand around while Puck talks his head off. Who is this person? Darling, I'm afraid this is going to be a shock. This man is from an insurance company. Dr. Denov is dead. Oh, what a pity. What happened? The police say he jumped. His wife says he was pushed. She also says that you, Ms. Brent, might have been the pusher. Oh, now, really, it's too absurd. How like a wife. What time did your play start this afternoon, Ms. Brent? Not a day or two, 30, always. Always. And the late lamented Dr. Denov jumped at 3 o'clock? I didn't say he did. Doesn't this news shock you? But of course. Do you think good psychoanalysts are easy to find? Looks like your next doctor will have to start from scratch. Your case history seems to be missing from Dr. Denov's files. Missing? No. Where is it? Has a man named Nikolaitis been in touch with you? I've never heard of him. Chances are you will. Does he have Dr. Denov's notes on my case? Could be. This is right for it. Hot reading, huh? You seem to know this person, Nikolaitis. Get that file for me, and I'll pay you well for it. Just a minute, my lovely Titania. We don't know who this man really is. He might even be Nikolaitis himself. Let me see your company credentials. Now, what do you know? Somebody picked my pocket. My wallet's gone. I thought so. All right, you tell me who you are, I'll call the police. Oh, no, no, Jonathan, no police. Let's get off the merry-go-round. My name is Spade. You'll find me in the phone book under S. My office is open until 6 o'clock. And if a man answers, don't hang up. It'll be me. Have you found a Nikolaitis yet? Not one. I even tried spelling it backwards. Nobody ever heard of a man named Nikolaitis, beginning to think there ain't no such person. Pardon me. Do I hear my name mentioned? I'm Nikolaitis. Sam, I still think you're right. Come all the way in, Mr. Nikolaitis. Sit down. Thank you. If you need me, Sam, just scream. What can I do for you? Oh, I've come for my money. What money? Well, the $10,000. You remember the $10,000? Refresh my memory. Oh, Dr. Denos, the gentleman who visited you this morning. Oh, that $10,000. Well, you see, you see, you remember now. Yeah, yeah, it all comes back to me now. You were supposed to deliver something for the money. I think Dr. Denos is dead. That is no longer important. You will give me the money, please. And I will not disturb your afternoon any further. Suppose I refuse? Oh, that would grieve me. In my grief, there is no time more than I might do. Dr. Denos is dead. There's nothing more you can do to hurt him. Never would I attempt to hurt poor Dr. Denos, but in my sorrow, it would be so great if I should be forced to hurt the woman he loves. After all, as Titania says, these are the forgeries of jealousy. Sonia, huh? Ah, yes, Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 1, Scene 18. I'm a little rusty on my Shakespeare. Well, you are indeed, Mr. Spade. Titania doesn't appear until well into Act 2. She doesn't, huh? Yeah, yeah, that's right. Yeah, I guess she isn't on for 40 minutes or so. Yes, indeed, Mr. Spade. But I didn't come here to discuss drama. What else have you got to discuss? When Dr. Denos died, your market died with him. That is a very unprogressive view, Mr. Spade. There's always a gentleman named Jonathan Wilde. Why, you fiend. You don't mean you sell to both of us. Mr. Spade, how can you have such a low opinion of me? I will prove my integrity. I will give you the material. You give me the money. Hand it over. In the event, Mr. Spade, we have a thing. He who goes too close to the bear soon loses his beard. I have left my beard at home. OK, I'll meet you anywhere you say, anytime you say. Excellent. Seven in your apartment? Won't that be walking into the bear's cave? In the event, Mr. Spade, we have a thing. Private Dix do not kill people in their own apartment. It was then 6 PM. I called Epi for messages. She told me that you had been phoning frantically, Mrs. Denos. I still had maybe 30 minutes before Nikolaitis was due at my apartment, so I breezed on up to your place on the hill. We had a very interesting chat. Remember Mrs. Denos? Looking back on it, that was probably the most interesting conversation we had. Honey, I can't remember much of anything you said, but it was so cozy there in your place. And what with your clock being about 20 minutes slow, it must have been something like half past seven before I left you. I grabbed a cab and told the hacky to step on it. I hope Nikolaitis was still waiting at my apartment. He was. Nikolaitis, I'm sorry to be late. He was lying on my bathroom floor. The little guy was looking just about as natty as when he'd been in my office except that the beautiful silk scarf he'd been wearing was twisted into a tight noose around his neck. Mr. Nikolaitis was a very dead blackmailer. Hackers of wild root cream oil are presenting the fourth in a new series of programs bringing to the air for the first time. The adventures of Dashel Hammett's famous private detective, Sam Spade. The man who has something better than a mere hunch is said to have it straight from the horse. Of course, that's a humorous expression. But it shows how to get facts. Go straight to the real source of information. And that's why we went straight to hundreds of men in metropolitan New York to find out what men really want in a hair tonic. And their answers show that wild root cream oil has all five advantages chosen by this impartial consumer jury of men. One, wild root cream oil grooms your hair neatly and naturally never leaves it sticky or greasy. Two, wild root cream oil relieves annoying dryness. Three, it removes loose dandruff. Four, it's non-alcoholic. And five, it contains soothing lanolin. Remember, no other leading hair tonic gives you all five of these important advantages. Is it any wonder that four out of five users in a nationwide test preferred wild root cream oil to all other hair tonics they tried? So next time you visit your barber, ask for wild root cream oil and get the big economy-sized bottle of wild root cream oil at your drug or toilet goods counter. Back to Sam and Psyche, tonight's adventure with Sam Spade. His eyes were open, and he seemed to be looking right at me as I bent over him. The finger marks on his throat were too blotchy to be of any use. Pretty soon, Lieutenant Dundee and Sergeant Polehouse came in and walked over behind me. We all stood there for a second, and then Polehouse bent down and closed those eyes. You know him, Sam? His name is Nikolaitis. That's all I know about him. What did he come here to your place for? I don't know. You invited him? I wouldn't have been surprised to find him here. But not like this. Your boy's got a smear on him yet? Sure, he's an old customer of mine. Runs a photo lab, photo stats, microfilm. Microfilm? Nobody makes any sense. They're all screwballs, psychos, neurotics. What am I doing in the middle of this anyway? Sam, don't scream at us. We're just doing a job. Oh, I'm sorry, boys, as Dr. Denov was my client. An expert. That Denov probably had a screw loose somewhere and needed a psychoanalyst himself. Say, maybe he was. Yeah. Yeah. Hey, look, Dundee. I'm going out of here now. Do I call Sid Weiss and we go through all that again? Or are you going to let me walk? Well, Sam, you can go. I know where you sleep. I'll wake you when I'm ready for you. Well, Mr. Speed? I want some answers, Dr. Zoya, and you're the guy who can give them to me. I'm listening. Just let the questions flow into your mind and do not try to repress any of them. Speak instantly, wherever. OK, question number one, without thinking. Do you think Dr. Denov was a suicide? Well, I had not seen Dr. Denov for many years. He had been my student in Vienna. I was his analyst, in fact. That's all very interesting, Dr. But my question. Yes, yes. Did poor Dr. Denov commit suicide? I have reviewed all the material, manifest, and hypothetical, and I came to the conclusion, no, no, it was quite impossible. You see, these paranoia and the problem. OK, question number two, was Dr. Denov in love with Constance Brent? I suppose I can now answer that question. When I arrived in San Francisco, I found him in great distress. He told me, he feared, he was losing his objectivity towards this patient. In other words, he was in love with her. Yes. You think she might have murdered him? All psychoanalytical subjects develop aggressive feelings towards the doctor. Nearly all of my patients have threatened me at one time or another. You don't say. Tell me, Dr. Zoya, you don't think about Jonathan Wallace, Miss Brent's husband? A violent type, almost psychotic. Yeah? How about you, Dr. Zoya? Did you have done it? That is a most interesting question, Mr. Spade. When I arrived here from Vienna without funds, dependent on the kindness of my former students, I must confess that I felt a certain antagonism. It disturbed me to realize that a man of my standing in the profession should have been dependent on the good will of a younger and, I sincerely believe, less gifted man. However, I overcame this, and I didn't kill him. Well, Doctor, thanks a lot. Oh, people, people. Truly a life study. There is no accounting. For instance, Dr. Danoff, he came to me only this afternoon with the strangest request. Yeah? He gave me the gold watch, the gold watch, which I had presented to him many years ago upon his graduation in Vienna. He had a patient waiting, and so had not much time to explain. Where is his watch? Please, I'm coming to that. He asked me to promise that I would have the watch buried with him if something should happen. That has been done. But Dr. Danoff just died at 3 o'clock. It is a mosaic law that the deceased be buried before sundown. Thanks, Doctor. Thanks a lot. I hope I've been of some help. Doctor, you'll never know how much you've helped me. Spade. What's happened? I think I got the answers, Mrs. Danoff, that file on Constance Brent. Your husband knew that you'd been going through it. Mr. Spade? Shut up and listen to me. He took it out of the files, added microfilm for his own private records, and destroyed the original. Really? The man who did the microfilming was Nicolaitis. He delivered one print to your husband and kept another for himself. He was murdered in my apartment for the copy he used to shake down your husband. The killer now has that copy. If it hasn't already been destroyed, then we can still put our hands on the first strip of microfilm, which is delivered to your husband. This is astonishing. How? It's in the gold watch, which was buried with him. Oh, the watch that Dr. Zoye... That's right. Danoff made up his mind that whatever he knew about Constance Brent was going to go to the grave with him. What are you doing tonight? Nothing. And we've got a date, sweetheart. You and I. I'll be back toward the wee hours. All paths lead to the grave. Ophelia, Act 6. Gregory's grave? But shouldn't we get a court order and have it done properly? The court's don't open until 10 in the morning, sweetheart. A lieutenant Dundee's going to start asking me some questions about that stiff in my apartment before then. You see, baby, I can't wait. Mr. Spade, we shouldn't be doing this. I'm wrong. This time it won't be wasted effort. I'll crawl into the grave myself and pull it in after. Here. I struck it. Give me that crowbar, Mrs. Danoff. Quick. Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Put that flashlight into it, aren't you? You look the other way. Yeah, here it is. Look. What, Mr. Spade? What have you got? The watch. Here, put the flashlight on it while I open it. Here's my nail file. Pry off the back. Thanks. That does it. Here's the film. All right, Mr. Spade. Give me that film. Who wasn't the second grave digger from Hamlet, Mr. Constance Brent? Stop clowning and hand it up to me. Better do as he says, Mr. Spade. We've both got guns. I was expecting that. Took you a long time to get here, Mr. Wallace. How did dear Constance make out as Lady Macbeth? Just give me that film. Stop being an idiot. Wallace's cemetery is crawling with cops. Put that gun away before you drop it and break your foot. Come up out of that grave, Spade, or you'll say they're forever. OK, Dundee. All right, all right. Get those hands up, everybody. Go ahead, Dundee. Make the pinch. OK. Sam Spade, I arrest you for body snatching, violation of graves under the civil code number... No, you fool. You're supposed to arrest Mrs. Gregory Dinov and Jonathan Wallace for the murder of Gregory Dinov and Pericles Nikolaitis. But I... Oh, yeah, yeah, I... No, you don't! It was smart of you, Mrs. Dinov, to make me late for my appointment with Nikolaitis. You did that so that Wallace could nail him in my apartment for the microfilm. You thought you could use that film to pin Dinov's murder on Constance Brent. But after your late husband caught your tampering with his files, he added a few well-chosen words to it so that the film put the finger on you and your boyfriend, Mr. Wallace, in case anything happened to the doctor. So Wallace had to kill Nikolaitis. You weren't smart to push your husband out the window. That looked like suicide. You might have gotten away with it, Mrs. Dinov, if you'd bashed your husband's head in with a bottle. And it reminds me, if he pour me a drink. That all? Sign it, put a special delivery on it, and send it care of the matron to hatch up a prison. Go on, have one yourself. Oh, thank you. Here's how. Oh. You'll get used to it. Good night, Sam. Good night, sweetheart. It presents the Adventures of Sam Spade, Dashel Hammett's famous private detective produced and directed by William Spear. Then on these warm August days, the sun beats down on your hair, may leave it looking dry and brittle. That's why, now especially, you need wild root cream oil. This grand non-alcoholic hair tonic has just what it takes for summer grooming. It contains lanolin, the soothing oil at so much like the oil of your skin. Wild root cream oil keeps your hair neatly in place, gives it the handsome, successful look that helps you get ahead on the job. And wild root cream oil removes loose, ugly dandruff and actually relieves annoying dryness. So tonight, take the famous FN test. Check your scalp. Signs of dryness or loose dandruff tell you you need wild root cream oil right away. Sam Spade is played by Howard Duff. Fred Essler was Dr. Zoya. Loreen Tuttle is Effie. Don't forget next Friday, the three masters of the art of hair raising, Dashel Hammett, William Spear and wild root cream oil join forces to bring you another hair raising adventure with Sam Spade. Smart girls use wild root cream oil too for quick good grooming and to relieve dryness between permanence. Mothers say it's grand for training children's hair. Dick Joy speaking. This is ABC, the American Broadcasting Company.