 The Adventures of Frank Race starring Paul Dubov with Tony Barrett as Mark Donovan. The war changed many things, the face of the earth and the people on it. Before the war, Frank Race worked as an attorney, but he traded his law books for the Cloak and Dagger of the OSS, and when it was over his former life was over, too. Adventure had become his business. The Adventures of Frank Race. Frank Race for the Adventure of the Undecided Bride. Welsh Rear Bed as prepared by my favorite chef at the Waldorf is a weaver of lovely dreams, at least it is for me. Having sucked on that delicacy, I was sleeping peacefully, watching the gyrations of an oriental dancer conjured up to perform in my private dream world. Her dance and my dream were both interrupted by a peasant who has little taste for the finer things in life. Oh, Mark, what is that racket? What are you doing out in the kitchen? And once or no, after poisoning me with our welch rabbit, look, ain't there any bicarbonate of soda in this joint? I'm dying. Well, do it quietly. You just broke up the best floor show since Siegfeld. Yeah, well, that's fine. But at least I am going to open these windows and get me some air. I'm on fire. That sounded like a shot, Mark. Yeah, in the street. Come here quick. Look, look, down past the street lamps, eh? There were three of them in the otherwise deserted street. Two of them were men sliding carefully along the wall of a building, and their objective, framed in white and huddled in a doorway, was a woman in a bridal gown with an automatic in her hand and terror written in her upturned face. Hey, we better get down here fast, Ray. She's in trouble. No time for that. Have a gun and a drawer here. To get and set the rush up. We'll stop that right now. Hey, you winged him. They won't hang around now. We can go down and get the girl. Yeah, she's pointing the gun this way. Hey, you hit. No. But I find the idea of an armed bride on the loose in Manhattan at 2 a.m. very interesting. Jump into some clothes and let's go. The street when we reached it was deserted, but it was a cinch that the bride had no car of her own on hand and she'd hardly have accepted a lift from her pursuers. Her best bet would be to get off the street as soon as possible and there were two logical choices. The subway or an all night cafeteria two blocks farther up. I sent Mark to check the cafeteria and I went under the marquee down to the subway platform. The station was empty at first glance, but then the mirror on a penny weighing scale caught my eye halfway down the platform. The girl in the bridal gown was hidden from me by a post. I could see part of the white dress reflected in the glass and she saw me at the same moment. That's close enough, whoever you are. You took part shots at me, baby. That wasn't nice. I was shooting at your playmates. How do I know that? I'll show you credentials if you'll give me a chance. I'm not in the mood for giving chances. You've got a gun and a reasonably good eye. I can't do you any damage when my hands up. Let's talk it over. She came from behind the post and in that white bridal gown she could have made an organist play the wedding march in bebop. But the gun still in her hand made you wonder whether it was her ambition to be a bride or a widow. I suppose you're going to tell me you aren't working for Brent or for Red. The gentle playmates who are following you, no. Why did you come after me? Because I thought you were in trouble. All right. Now that I'm safe, I'd like to be safe and alone. Sorry, but I feel attached to you. I think I'll stick. What's your interest? I collect drives who seem to be without grooms and spend their wedding nights running around the streets having gun battles. I could shoot you and leave you here. You could and you might. So I think I'd better take that gun. Ow! My arm! That's better. Here comes the train. We'll ride up town aways just in case any of your followers are still in the neighborhood and on the way we can talk. All right, you win. You have the gun. Now I have something else for you. I had taken the gun from her at the brink of the platform with my back to the train. She shoved me off balance and I went down on the rails. As the train moved into the station I rolled and pinned myself tight onto the concrete ledge as the wheels came to a stop. Now three inches for my face. I knew better than to move. So I waited until the train pulled out. As it roared from the station into the dock of the tunnel I stood up and looked after it. Framed in the rear window was the lovely white face of the roughest bride of the season. Hello, friend. Holy cow, what happened to you? I had a little experience in the subway. Oh, why don't you pay the dime fare? You're too tall a sneak under the toine style. Our lady in white tried to dress me in black permanently. She pushed me under a train. All of which mightn't have happened if you came back to the subway when you didn't find her here. Yeah, so how could I figure you couldn't handle a dame? I needed a handboy to go with some ketchup to drown out the taste of that Welch rabbit. I've got to find out who that girl is. All right, so why don't you ask me? How would you know? I read the papers. A pretty kisser is on page one of the sunrise edition. Here, look. See that? There it is. Society Goyle Mrs. Wedding. And the guy is the, the, the Joe she was supposed to marry yesterday afternoon. Oh, his name is Brent. William Brent. And her name is Marnie Costa. So she didn't marry a man named Brent, and one of the men chasing her was named Brent. Yeah. Hey. Hey, then something else fits. He must have been the guy you're weighing. Right. And he called a guy named Red to help her. That must have been the best man. Here, here, Charles Red Wharton. He was an all-American of 46 foot balls, eh? No, I don't see, Mark. When I'm going to, we'll have a busy day tomorrow paying calls. First, I checked with the police and found that the gun I had taken from Marnie Costa was not her own. It was registered to Brent, an odd gift from a bridegroom, particularly for a wedding that failed to come off. Among other things, I learned that Brent ran a lucrative importing business with Red Wharton as junior partner. I dropped in to visit. I'd like to see Mr. Brents. I'm sorry, but both Mr. Brent and Mr. Wharton are tied up. Oh, that's too bad. My firm will be placing a couple of million dollars in orders this month. I thought they might want a piece of the business. I, uh, I'll see if one of them is free. What's your name? Race. Frank Race. Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Brent, but there's Mr. Frank Race out here. Oh, send him in. Ask Red to come in too. He just went back to his office. Yes, sir. You can go in, Mr. Race. Apparently, Mr. Brent has heard of your firm. Yes. Apparently, he has. William Brents sported a crew haircut that bristled all the way down to his eyebrows. He had about as much forehead as a Neanderthal man, but the signet ring he wore was Phi Beta Kappa. He had one arm in a sling and the fingers of his free hand and dropped a tattoo on the desk in front of them. How much, Race? How much what? Don't stall. You witnessed a rather embarrassing scene last night. I'll make it worth your while to forget it. And you're willing in turn to forget that I put a bullet in your shoulder? Yes. How about ten thousand dollars? Ten thousand... All right. I'll send it to you later this afternoon at your apartment. Ah, you know where I live. Uh, yes. Red checked the apartment after you fired on us last night. Will the money be in cash? Of course. I'll send somebody for it right now. Don't bother. I was only testing prices, not selling. Come in, Red. You've been listening? Yeah. I've been listening. Red Wharton had the face of a matinee idol, but the kind of hair you'd expect to find sticking out of a broken sofa. His body spelled athlete and his eyes spelled trouble. Red made you an offer, Race. Take it or be sorry. Brent parts with ten thousand dollars very easily just to avoid a little embarrassment. Haven't the papers done enough already? No wedding yesterday. I look like a fool, and people don't do business with fools. All because of a lover's quarrel. A lover's quarrel with bullets? Marnie had a gun. We weren't armed. She has a violent temper. Any idea where she got the gun? Why, how would we know? You should know, Brent. It's registered with the police in your name. All right, Race. I've got a gun that isn't registered with anybody. You made enough trouble in something that doesn't concern you. Now get lost! Haven't you noticed how casually I wear my clothes with one hand in my coat pocket? You don't think I walked in here like a setup, do you? All right, Red, stop this nonsense. All right. Race, you can go to the police if you want. I don't care what you do just as long as you get out of here. Thank you. And excuse me if I back out. On the way out of Brent's office, I made a fast dinner date with the secretary. I figured she might keep it to herself. And with the help of candlelight and wine, she'd give me a rundown on what cooks in the importing business as conducted by Brent and Red Wharton. My next stop was the county courthouse where I took a peek at a dead man's will, just for kicks. It was the will of Rupert J. Costa, father of the gun-toting bride, Marnie. Is that what you want, Mr. Race? Yes, very definitely. Costa left his entire fortune to his daughter to be held in trust until her 25th birthday. But if she marries before her 25th birthday, control of the money passes to her husband. Nice spot for a fortune-hunter. Well, I guess your old boy wanted to make sure she didn't marry too young. And she hasn't, not yet. I'm going to check the birth records. I've got an idea that Marnie Costa is still a bit short of her 25th birthday. That's possible. Here, father. Oh. Oh, thanks, Mr. Race. I left the hall of records and went down the steps into the street. I turned toward a cab stand, but I was jostled the other way. Go on my way. At first glance, he looked and sounded like a kid on his way to the junior prom. But there was a blue beard line that said he'd been shaving for a long time. His pork pie hat and bow tie were something to smile at if you weren't familiar with the glint in his eye. It came from smoking a brand you can't get at the corner cigar store. The schoolboy face belonged to a professional killer. I thought you were told to mind your own business. I'll walk over to that parking lot. And if I don't? I'll give it to you right here. I don't play games. No, your type doesn't. I'll walk. He was going to handle like a crate of nitroglycerin. I intended to make my plays. We reached his car. But as we went behind a billboard, he played first. Now this ought to be real good fun. I came out of my fog slowly through the sickly sweet smell of a chloroform haze and into the head piercing sharpness of smelling salts. Come on, come on, come on, come on. Come on, come on. Take one more. Somebody slugged me, then I was chloroform. But how did I get home here? That's something I don't know. But I don't know this. You've got to snap out of it and fast. It was lying here when I came in with this gun in your hand. It's been fired, Rayce. That cookie sitting in your favorite chair is very, very dead. I looked at the chair by the fireplace and staring back at me with a bullet through his head was William Brent, the importer who never got to be a bridegroom. We'll return to the Adventures of Frank Race in just about one minute. Now back to the Adventures of Frank Race. Emily Post might think it objectionable to walk out on a guest, even an uninvited one. But since Brent occupied my favorite chair and was also dead, I passed up his company in favor of that dinner date with his secretary. A jittery Mark Donovan drove me through traffic to the point of rendezvous. Oh, Grace, if you don't call the cops about that stuff, they are going to tie a can to your tail, but good. And if I do report it before I know who did the killing, I'm not going to get a chance to untie the can. I woke up in my own apartment with a gun in my hand and a corpse. I'll need more than ad-libs to explain it. Yeah. Look, how about that character what a pork pie had that you told me about? You ought to be trying to tag him. I want you to do that. Oh, Grace. Grace. I chase a weed smoker whose idea of romance is to strangle somebody, but you, you got it tough. You have dinner with a doll. She's a very plain girl, really, Mark. Eh, who are you kidding? You wouldn't date a plain Jane to South. Who killed Cock Robin? All right, all right. How do I start finding a guy? I've described him to you. He's probably a hood brought in from someplace to do this job on Brent. If he is, he's been paid off by now. A lad like that might make a loud and expensive tour of the night spots. Drift between the Halo Club and the Siamese Angel. You'll hit one of them sooner or later. Ah, OK. Here's your stop to vent on. If I've passed it to the florist, I'll pick up a corsage for the lady. Yeah. Maybe I ought to get one, too, huh? For my blind date. A cat of poison ivy. What's your name, honey? It's Margie. I hope you don't think I make a habit of dating just anybody who comes into the office. I'm certain you don't. And happy that you made an exception in my case. I've been wondering how much of an impression I made on your boss, Brent. I really don't know. He left the office right after you did and he didn't come back. How about Red Wharton? He left, too. He had a dinner date with Marnie Costa. Red had a dinner date with the girl Brent was supposed to marry? The one who ran out on him? Sure. The three of them are fighting all the time, but they always made up. I guess Mr. Wharton will calm her down and she'll marry Mr. Brent after all. Oh, but against that. Huh? Uh, nothing. Did, uh, did you mention having a date with me? Of course not. Think I want to lose my job? Look, baby, here's $20. That'll pay for a nice dinner. I have, uh, I have to make a phone call. But aren't you coming back? I may, baby. I may. I headed for the phone booths near the hat check room, then changed my course and headed along the side wall to the door to the kitchen. Two plain clothes meant from homicide had come in from the street and that meant they'd been tipped off and discovered Brent's body. I made my way through the kitchen, always open for guest inspection, and out a little side door into an alley. I had more company, though. The lad with the pork pie hat. You ought to hold still for him. You squirm around too much and make things tough. You can't pull anything on me this time. I'm your patsy for a murder rap. And if you drop me, you have no patsy. Besides which, if you drop him, I drop you. Mark, good boy. All right, friend, you can let go of that gun. Shump. Look, I drive one block after I leave you here, see? Then I see this guy in that hat walking down the street. When he turns into the alley, I decide to come back and see what his pitch is. Who are you? I call me Spudsy. That's all. I'm here to kill Brent. That's with your job, wasn't it, pal? Mark, take this gun. Look, Spudsy, I don't like this, but I haven't got much time. Who paid you or do I beat it out of you? Come on! I hit him and he went back into some rubbish and came up with an empty bottle. He broke it as I closed in on him and jabbed the jagged end in my face. I stepped aside and caught him flush down the jaw. Vingo. Well, that boy ain't going to appear on information please anymore tonight. No, maybe the police can get it out of him. You'll find a couple of boys from homicide out front. Have them take him in on suspicion. I'm going to go over this fence and pay a call on Marnie Koster. Yes, sir? I want to see Miss Koster. But she left on her honeymoon. Honeymoon? What are you giving me? I don't understand, sir. The wedding didn't come off and you know it. You work for her. And she couldn't have changed her mind today because Brent is dead. Mr. Brent is dead? That's right, old girl. Now where's the bride? She's on her honeymoon. She married Mr. Wharton in Connecticut this afternoon and then came back to pack. She married Wharton? Red Wharton? Yes, sir. And they left in his car not an hour ago. A spare groom is a handy thing to have when a girl's first choice turns up dead. But suitable honeymoon accommodations are not made on short notice. Since Red Wharton had taken over the bride, there was also a chance he'd taken over the accommodations. Mark picked me up and we broke into the Brent Wharton importing company office to search for a clue. I just don't know what you expect to find, Ray. Just a scrap of paper, maybe the name of a hotel, some resort, a steamship reservation, anything. Hey, wait a minute. Don't secretaries take care of that kind of stuff? Marcus, you're right. You keep looking here. I'll check Margie's calendar notes. Okay. Huh? Who's Margie? Brent's secretary, my dinner date. May Heaven and Emily Post forgive me. Come here, Mark. I've got it. Hey, Craig, how are you? Yeah, girl, what'd you find? The Hotel Amarada in Niagara Falls. Niagara Falls? Now, who would ever think of going there on a honeymoon? Well, apparently Brent did. Now, let's hope that Wharton followed suit. Hey, all right. Somebody's got it. That watchman probably. There's a skylight shaft outside that small window we can hide there till he goes through. Come on, I'll boost you. Right. What do they know? I don't know if it's a home. It is a legend here we can sit on. Come on. Come on, I'll put you up. It has its light. The window's stained glass. He can't see us. What's this thing? A bunch of cans stacked up there. It's a funny place. Wait a minute. Watchman's gone. Strike a match. Yeah, sure, but why? Let's see what you found. Hold it while I open this. Yeah. Hey, that looks like flour. It isn't flour, Mark. It's dope. There's enough here to ruin a thousand lives and make somebody rich. Now I know why Brent was killed. Come on. Ha! Well, what do you know? At last I get to see Niagara Falls. And who am I with? You. Never mind the moaning. The clerks said they were out for a walk. Keep your eyes peeled. Hey, it's a guy in a dame. Lean against a fence up ahead and the guy is red here. That's them. You're right. There's something wrong with that girl. She's trying to jump. Hurry, Mark. Hold her, Wharton! Let me go, man! Hey, he's only got him. I want him. All right, Wharton, hold on. I'll get her. Let me go! All right. Lift her back over the rail. There. All right, all right. Now just put her down. Sorry I had to hit her, Wharton. It was the only way. I had done it myself, but you went over the rail too fast. I just had time to grab her arm. You know what's wrong with her, don't you? Yeah. Narcotics. She's been trying to quit. Thought she could stay away from him, but it almost drove her mad. Gonna have to turn her in. Do you know why she killed Brent? Killed? Brent? Yes. Killed Brent. Oh, don't play, Wharton. Somebody paid a character named Spudsy to kill him and plant the body in my apartment. It adds up to you or her. Which is it? Wait a minute. You're not going to frame up a murder charge against her race. She had a gun the night we met and she was using it. Brent was forcing her to marry him. She started taking dope. He got her into it. Then he started to cut down his supply and squeeze her until she was desperate. Figured he could get her money that way and become the biggest operator in the country. But all of a sudden Brent turned up dead and she married you. Brent knew she loved me. When I found her about his traffic and what he was doing to her, I was going to turn him in. He said the scandal had ruined her, so I didn't. I just took her away and brought her up here. I'm sorry. I can see it now. But there is a dead man and somebody has to pay off on him. I'm not paying off, Grace. Honey, honey, how are you? Stay back, Red. I'm all right now. I've been listening. It's all right, baby. Don't say anything. I killed Brent. You're just going to the hospital. All right. I'll go to the hospital. We'll go across the border and you'll stay with me. You didn't kill Brent, neither did I. Now, help me up and we'll leave, Mr. Ray. Red, I'm beginning to see a light. Give me the right answer to one question and if it is right, I'll let you take it over to a hospital free and clear. What do you want to know? Did you really kill Brent? Tell him, darling. Because I didn't. No, Grace. I didn't. I think I can clear it up. It's back to New York, Russ Mock. I overlooked something. Hello, Mr. Ray. Hello, Margie. Fine date you turned out to be. I'll make it up to you, Margie. Just give me a little help and I'll have a big surprise for you. Well, sure. Mind if I borrow this chair? Sure. Help yourself. Thank you. Nothing out on the lodge, Mark. What was there last night, Ray? Yes. And Spudsy was in jail last night, too. But somebody came up with a fat bunch of bail this morning, didn't they, Margie? What do you mean? I mean that Spudsy is your boyfriend because he tipped the police off about Brent's body and told them they could pick me up at the Vondome. Then he showed up there, too. And you were the only one who knew I'd be there. I don't know what you're talking about. I have an idea that isn't business correspondence and that typewriter. May I have it? No! Let's go, baby. I'll take it. I thought you would. Because that's the list of places you've arranged to get rid of the drugs through, isn't it? You're a smart guy. But this time I ain't waiting to cool you. It's here and now with the same gun that killed Brent. You take me first, baby! Look out! You all right, Mark? Well, I am not only all right, but I will lay you on as did. He stays out 30 seconds longer than he did when you hit him. Good. Now let's drop these kids off at police headquarters and take this list down to narcotics squad. I imagine the stuff is in your apartment, as Spudsy's, isn't it, Margie? Find it. Don't worry, baby. We will. It's too bad Brent suspected you of dipping into a supply and setting up shop on your own with Spudsy. Ah, such a pretty coil, too. Mm-hmm. Hey, Rice, tell me something. I should be delighted, Marcus. Look, uh, chill now, chill. Mm-hmm. Did you kiss this coil when you went out with it? Of course not, Mark. And, uh, you didn't kiss the other one either? The prize? No, no. No, no. That's a shame. You know, it's getting sort of right no romance in this business anymore. The Adventures of Frank Ray starring Paul Dubov with Tony Barrett as Mark Donovan comes to you from Hollywood. Others heard in tonight's cast were Loreen Tuttle, Jackie Shields, Peter Leeds, Bert Holland, and Don McKee. This series is written and directed by Buckley Angel and Joel Murcott. The music is composed and played by Ivan Dittmar. Be sure to be with us again this time next week for another dramatic chapter in The Adventures of Frank Ray. Hart Gilmore speaking. This is a Brucell's production. The Adventures of Frank Ray