 my beat from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the Gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomeest mile in the world. As Detective Danny Clover, November morning sits down over Broadway and for a time the swarm stands bewildered, stares at its empty hands. The solitude begins to shape itself once more, out of November's winds, out of the silent colorless neon, out of mists flaring upward from manholes. And finally the solitude is clear and present, whispering again its desolate invitation and the derelicts of mourning run from it. Beat open a door, plead for refuge, find it in a time clock. It's another day, kid, all yours. And at headquarters do the things of the morning, brush the night dust off the unfinished report, wad up the paper cup with the dregs of cold coffee, toss it in the wastebasket, tear a page off a calendar. A shooting, Danny. Fold in. Man says his shot wants to talk. Here's the address. Take it from the sergeant, go to the address, find the man standing propped against the wall of the apartment, one hand in a fist pressed hard against his chest, pushing back the fragment of light that was still inside him and watch it seep through his fingers. You took your time. Let me help you off. Don't touch me. Don't touch me. Stay. Listen. Who shot you? Stanley. Stanley. He lost a little. Nothing. He worked for me. I put the bread in his mouth. I think he killed me. The ambulance will be here in a minute. Don't you keep your hands off. Little nothing. You're here. Kevin. And you burn. Moved over nothing. Voicing nothing. Moving quickly and swiftly like quick silver. Thing of it under a heading. Five. Take a piece of the image away with you. A name of killer. Name's Stanley Lawson, employee of Alex Raymond. Consult other records, make a phone call, and come up with an address. Go to it. What is it you want? I'm looking for Stanley Lawson. The card on your door says... Stanley Lawson. I know that Lawson is wife. Why are you looking for him? Suspicion of murder, Mrs. Lawson. All right, come in. In here. Stanley isn't home. Where is he? If he committed murder, he's probably running or hiding or whatever a new murder is supposed to do. What I do. Which one did he kill? What do you mean? Which one? Raymond or Harper? A little while ago, a man named Alex Raymond said your husband shot him. Then Edwin Harper must be running or hiding, too. You mind telling me what you're talking about? Raymond and Harper incorporated. Together they employed my husband to make them rich. In this, my husband was successful. But he's made one of them dead. We'll give you some idea of how important my husband was to the concern. You think your husband's going to kill Edwin Harper, too? My husband is what is known among educators, among party-goers, and among those who conversationally psychoanalyze people as a plugger. The fact that my husband has set his mind to whiting out Raymond and Harper simply means that he had to kill one of them first. And none of this surprised you, Mrs. Lawson? Me, least of all, I'm his wife. I attend his emotional moments. I know about my husband. Do you mind telling me why he killed Alex Raymond? No. Nor why he'll kill Harper. Stanley has been working for them for 15 years. A designer of their happy toys for tots. They fired him yesterday without a gold watch, not a pat on the back. Just the pink slip. What does a plugger do after plugging in a pattern for 15 years? Stanley killed. You're wasting your time talking to me, Mr. Clover. I'd find Edwin Harper if I were you. That is if you feel the necessity of saving his life. For a moment, her easy acceptance of the violence that had intruded on her life. The final clerics that put an end to the meaningless pattern that had been hers. The husbands shown in the way she wraps the tainted portrait of him in the newspaper gives it to you, wants it back when you're through with it. And you give her the promise, leave her with it. Murder is description on the wires. The all point bulletin. A woman's toneless voice in prowl car radios. Killer at large. Get it all moving. Then go to the man Mrs. Lawson told you about. The other man, her husband, wants dead. Edwin Harper, find him in his office at the factory. Watch him nervously caress the toy as he tries to understand it. Look, Alex and me, we've built a big thing here. With Christmas coming on, it's going to be bigger than... Alex Raymond is dead, Mr. Harper. I don't know any other way to tell you. Don't kid me, Mr. This toy I got here in my hands are biggest. Now with the Alex and me, we're going to flood all the kids in the country. What about Alex? Family Lawson shot him, killed him in cold blood. Why? Why would a little punk like Stanley do a thing like that? Nobody does things like that. Lawson did, because you fired him. His wife told me he'd been with you for 15 years. There are jobs, all kinds of jobs for a punk like Stanley. Defense, janitoring, all kinds of jobs. We get rid of people all the time. We don't expect to get killed for it. Why did you get rid of Lawson? He was washed up, through, finished, dead. That's why. Mrs. Lawson said... Who gives a thing for what she's had? What she tell you, huh? The first Stanley was the brains of our office, that he swept blood and tears for Alex and me, that he was devoted, loyal, a hundred percent. That's what she told you? Something like that. So maybe it's true. Maybe that's how it was. We picked his brain and then all of a sudden he don't come up with anything anymore. Look, Mr. A designer who can't design anymore, who needs him? I got to live too. You got to wait, you throw it away. Yeah. You got any ideas where Lawson might go to hide any particular place? You mean that punk, that murderer is on the loose? You haven't got him? No, but maybe you could help him. Help? It's me you got to help. Don't appendix, thank you, next he'd want me. We'll take care of it, Mr. Harper. Look, I got no intention of dying. None at all. Not from Stanley, not from anything. It's your responsibility. You understand that? You got it clear? I'm not going to die. Sure, sure. Come on in. Yeah, I've got the notation right here on my desk. You've been assigned to me, haven't you, while Detective Margaretman is on vacation? That's right, sir. I've got some information for you, Lieutenant, about Stanley Lawson. Rather negative information, if I may say so. Sure, you may say so. Just tell me about it, huh? Yes, sir. All these from communications. Stanley Lawson was seen going into a theater on 42nd Street. And at the same time, this other report spotted him on the Staten Island ferry. There's another one here from the West Side Golf Club. There's a man there on the 10th hole who's been teeing off for an hour. All of them are attractively. These and a half dozen more, sir. Still haven't gotten Stanley Lawson. Well, thank you, Kenny. Yes, sir. Oh, pardon me. Danny Clover speaking. This is Edwin Harper. He called me. He just called me. Lawson? He wants me to meet him. Where are you supposed to meet him? At Tenement, corner 16th and 9th Avenue. I'm staying right here. You've got to protect me. Don't worry about a thing. We'll take care of it. Goodbye, Mr. Harper. Kenny? Yes, sir. Report to me after you've had your dinner. We've got something to take care of. I'm glad you're here, Lieutenant. It took about time. Nine o'clock. Is everything set up, Kenny? Yes, sir. Lights, PA. We've got a cordon around the whole block. As far as the stakeout's concerned, we're all ready. Good. Tenement across the street. Uh-huh. The Tenement's unoccupied, sir. Condemned. But a few minutes ago, we saw some movement up on the second floor. But anyhow, one of the officers said he saw something move around. I'll take it from here. Hand me the PA. Yes, sir. The spotlight's coming. Yes, sir. Okay, man. All ready, sir? Yeah. This is the police. We know you're in there, Lawson. We want you to come out with your hands up. One minute to make up your mind. But we're coming in at... Lieutenant, get... You, officer. Get an ambulance. You, you and you. Cover me. I'm going in after him. You just shot an officer, Lawson. Throw away your gun and come on down. Or you won't get out of here alive. All right, Lawson. Any way you want it. The touch is autumn with December. It's the time when the shadows come in with the sun, the time of the three coffee breakfasts, the sweater and the vest under the coat. But the plucked birds hang high. There are stalks of corn and pumpkin pie behind moist shop windows. It's holiday season. And up and down the furious street, chefs smile. There's no problem for Thursday's blue plate special. Forget the headlines, kid. Everywhere. Everybody will be eating turkey, it says. But when the new day comes, the light that drifts into a hospital room has another texture. Because it lies against clean walls and starched curtains before it touches a bed. A bed where a man named Stanley Lawson lay, a murder suspect, and his wife considers him. Look at him, Mr. Clover. In the state of shock. Isn't that what your doctor called a shock? So critical. Meaning his mind has rejected him finally. Do you expect me to feel sorry for him, Mrs. Lawson? Only for yourself. Because you were forced to do what you did. Shoot him. Talk with yourself. Convince yourself you did the only thing possible. My husband can't talk. Who's the happier man? I can't answer anything about your husband, Mrs. Lawson. The only thing I know about him for sure is that he shot a police officer. But he did that tempers all my thinking about him. How is the officer? Bad. Very bad. I'm sorry. I know you are. Mr. Clover? Yes. You said you were sure only that Stanley shot a police officer. What about Alex Raymond? Your husband probably shot him, too. Probably? Before he passed out, your husband said something. He said that everything was a mistake, just then. But everything is a mistake. Everything always is. Look at him. A man. A life. Look what's become of it. The resident says he has a good chance to live, Mrs. Lawson. That's fine. May I be alone with him for a while, Mr. Clover, please? Treat with your lunch. Oh, thanks, Gino. In that shopping bag, all I gave you was 35 cents for a sandwich. Not only did I get your lunch, Danny, but I brought back change. When you see. All right. That's just as delicatessen, Danny. All I got to mention is I am here for Danny Clover. I don't even need a number to get waited on. What's all that stuff, Gino? Your name is magic, Danny. I order you your hot pastrami sandwich. The boys insisted it isn't enough. Got to have four spies. What? Four spies, Danny. An expression meaning you got a free little delicacy from each of the four boys. There you go. Four spies. From Sid, a container coleslaw. From Eddie, a dead potato salad with celery seed. From Frank, a slice halibut. And from Werd. What from Werd? A kosher pickle flipped into my hand under the table. Eat, Danny. Eatin' good health. Quite a haul, Sergeant. You're welcome, I'm sure. I also brought along the Gotham US I should pick up on my way back upstairs. You're a ball of fire today, Gino. Thank you, I'm sure. And then Gotham number one. The gun with which Stanley Lawson committed murder upon Alex Raymond and did wound detective Kenny. The boys can't find it. Haven't found it? As yet, no. Lawson shoots out of that tenement window, hits Kenny. I go in right after him. We can't find his gun. This is a puzzle, then? A fleeing fugitive or forces away the weapon with which he committed mayhem through a window down a pipe. What else have you got, Gino? Item number two. Concerning to deceased Alex Raymond, which you requested. It seems that Mr. Raymond, as it must to all men, and a girlfriend. Where? A Miss Grey's children daddy. Regent Powers, West 23rd. However, why you need such... I may answer it for you, Danny? Go ahead. Danny Clover's office. Sergeant thought... What? No. Yeah. I'll tell him. Tell me what, you know? Give me a minute, Danny. Kenny. Detective Kenny. He's dead. Quickly out of the room. Go searching for some empty place for the quick sorrow can't be seen. In a little while, look out the window. See him hapless without a coat. Wandering the sidewalk. Wandering the autumn wind. Go to him. Hand him his coat. Walk with him. Try to ease it for him. Explain it to him. To yourself. The stairs of the passes, by tell you, you're not doing real good. Brief time of being alone with it. The time it takes to get to 23rd Street, to the region's towers, to a girl named Grace Gilvin, and for her instant in your life, let go of it. You're a policeman? Why won't they think up next? I want to talk to you, Miss Gilvin, about Alex. Alex Raymond? He's dead, you know. Dead and gone. You want to talk about it here in the hall? Oh, glad you thought of it first. Come on in. Come in. That chintzy divan over there. You'll look good on that. Alex Raymond, just about him. I read how you punched a bullet hole in his killer. What more can a man ask for? Some things I need to know. About me? About me with Alex? Ever talked to you about his factory, about the people who worked for him? You mean the boy who put it to Alex? You mean Stanley Lawson, don't you now? That's right. Killer. Murderer. Pale little man like him. The things that go on inside these pale little men, surprises a girl. I'm going to tell you about him. Just enough to bring up the yawns, how Lawson was quite a designer. Then why did they fire him? Beats me, too. Especially after that XK-20. The XK-20? What's that? The secret weapon of the Raymond and Harper Company. A toy rocket ship. Zooms, spits, flame. Beats hoppy. You'll see him at the millions on the Christmas Counties. Lawson designed it and they fired him for that? You know, now that you mention it, it makes me wonder. About what? It was going to be a surprise to Lawson. He brought in the first model of the XK-20 last June. Made it on his own time. Alex and Edwin Harper looked at it and said it was just nothing. But you know what? Just tell me, huh? They showed it to a buyer anyhow. The buyer ordered a thousand gross in the stock. So the half dozen other buyers. But they didn't tell Lawson about it? Uh-uh. In fact, just to make it more of a surprise for Lawson, they had the toy manufactured by a subcontractor out of town. I'll tell you something else. Alex whispered he might make a million out of that XK-20. A million? XK-20? A million? Confused as a girl like me. Hey! What's on your mind, do you know? Here. Exhibit A. All wrapped up, ready to go. Oh, they found the gunner. Where? Wedged between some debris and an old tire in the backyard of the tournament. Where Lawson went out of the flunger. How come it wasn't found sooner? Why ask me? I wasn't there. I don't know. Do something for me, do you know? What? Go upstairs and get the fingerprints of everybody connected with this case. Then take the prints from the gun down to Gordon in technical. Tell Gordon I'll be there in a half hour. Okay, Danny. Make you that happy, Gordon? Look, Gordon, a little while ago, sergeants at Tigley came down here. With his grubby fists aglow with things for Gordon, for me to take care of for you. Because I'm the only one who can. A gun and a few sets of fingerprints. You know my advice to you. So help me, Gordon, bury Tigley threats from such a big man. My advice to you, Lieutenant, is to keep your mouth open and amazement and let your jaw hang there. I've got a goodie for you. Okay, what is it? The prints on the gun. You know whose those are, Lieutenant? Lawson's? A dead man. Alex Raymond. A man who fell dead in your arms yesterday afternoon. You kidding? If I was kidding, you'd be laughing. But your jaw is hanging the way I said it would. Raymond. A man who died yesterday afternoon also left his prints on a gun that killed an officer who died last night. Very tricky, isn't it? You picked me up at my place and I came along with you without questions. Don't you think it's time you told me what this is all about? The last department, Miss Carter, is the homeless family Lawson. The man who used to be your toy designer. I see. What do you expect me to do? Don't you feel sorry for the people inside? Just his wife. Only one inside. You'd better brief me on what I'm supposed to say to a woman whose husband killed my partner. Murdered an officer of the law. It'll come to you. Good evening, Mr. Clover. Miss Lawson, this is Mr. Harper. Please come in. My husband talks about you often, Mr. Harper. I want you to know how sorry I am about what's happened. You're sorry? You really are. Of course I am. That's strange. Mrs. Lawson, I was brought here for what reason I don't... I'm strange because my husband always said you were a shrewd businessman. He never told me you were a liar. Look, Clover, what is all this? You said you were sorry about what happened and Mrs. Lawson called you a liar. The fact, Mrs. Lawson, that you're the wife of a murderer, makes anything you say pretty unimportant. Mr. Clover? Yes? You talked to my husband about an hour ago. I know, that's why we've come here. If you two want to chat, you mind if I leave? We mind. You know all about it, Mr. Clover? The police stenographer who was in the hospital room when you spoke with your husband showed me the transcript. Do you believe what my husband told me? Yes. Is your husband going to live? I don't know. What about you, Mr. Harper? What? What about him, Mr. Clover? I suppose you just take me back where you got me, Mr. Clover. Just who do you think you are, Harper? I wanted you to meet Mrs. Lawson. I wanted you to see her home. Go ahead, look around. This is a home, Mr. Harper. This is a place where two people made their lives. You never know what comes out of these homes, will you? I got a little piece of news for you, Harper. Lawson didn't kill your partner. You're crazy. You were there. Yeah, I know, but Lawson didn't kill. Not of everything I've got fixed together, he didn't kill. Calm, now, calm, calm. Lawson went to Alex Raymond, pleaded for his job, demanded his job because he was frantic, because he'd given you and Raymond 15 years of his life. We paid him well. Thank you very much, Mr. Harper. Demanded his job. Raymond pulled a gun and told him to get out. Lawson wouldn't. Raymond threatened him. There was a fight. The gun went off. Raymond had shot himself in the struggle. Lawson fled. But Raymond told you... I know he told me Lawson had shot him. It was Raymond's revenge for dying. The alleged killer had fled. We made only a cursed research for the murder weapon. This is ridiculous. I'm getting out of here. If you move, Mr. Harper, I'll find something to kill you with. I'll take care of him, Mrs. Harper. What do you mean you'll take care of me? What have I got to do with all this? Lawson called you, told you what had happened. Asked you to meet him, begged for your help. Demanded money to leave town. I told you that. That would hold except for one thing. A gun with Raymond's prints on it. Not Lawson's because he never held the gun. Never held the gun. He killed a policeman with it, didn't he? No. When you went to Raymond's apartment, found the gun that Raymond had hidden away to make it appear that Lawson was a murderer, then you went to the tenement head. Why? Why should I do that? I'll get to that. You hid in that tenement during the stakeout when I called up to Lawson. It was you who fired those shots. Killed a policeman. You wore gloves so that Raymond's prints would still be on the gun. Now I'll tell you why you did all this. Wherever I am, this is why you did it. Raymond was dead. You got a new toy in the market that's going to make you a lot of money. A toy that Lawson brought to you. Get him out of the way and all that money was yours. No strings. Mr. Harper? No. Give me that gun, Mrs. Lawson. Don't try to take it away from me. You understand about me, Mr. Clover. You know what I do. Yes, yes I know. Play for something, Mr. Harper. All right, I'll confess to you. I did it. I did everything he said. But don't... Don't kill me. Is that what you call a prayer? Mr. Clover. No matter what. Please, please. Tell her. Tell her. Tell her I don't want to die. She won't listen to me. She'll kill me. This is what you wanted, isn't it, Mrs. Lawson? Yes. Had it turned out, take him out of here. The sleepwalkers are there. And the dream seekers, the shadow dwellers. It's limbo time when the sautons dance. But there are likes. The hugger is close to nothing. I've been listening to some of the bests in radio drama. With Fibber McGee and Molly and Broadway is my beats. Join us again Monday evening at the same time, 9 o'clock, when F.E.N. presents Dragnet and Escape.