 Tonight, Columbia brings you his guest star, Hollywood's genial character actor, Stuart Irwin. The story is by the author of The Thin Man and the Maltese Falcon, Dashiell Hammett. One of America's acknowledged masters of the art of suspense. Suspense is compounded of mystery and intrigue and dangerous adventure. In this series, our story is calculated to intrigue you, to stir your nerves, to offer you a precarious situation and then withhold a solution until the last possible moment. Tonight, for instance, Stuart Irwin plays for us a pleasant, easygoing assistant chief of police in a small town who, to everyone's surprise, was instrumental in solving a murder. We trust that with this tale, we shall keep you in suspense. For Suspense Tonight, CBS presents Stuart Irwin in Two Sharp Knives by Dashiell Hammett. Shortly after 2 a.m., a poker game had just broken up at Ben Kamdoliz, the doctor coroner of Dearwood City. Scott Anderson, Dearwood's chief of police, and Wally Shane, his assistant, were standing up. Where are we heading for, Scott? It's walk across Street, Wally. Railroad station. Gee, aren't you afraid of the excitement, Chief? Don't you think that watching the 2-11 come in is apt to be too much for your blood pressure? Well, it is, Wally. You can always carry on. You've been a pretty good imitation of an assistant to me for some time now. Yeah? Yeah. If anything happens to me, you'd be the chief. Don't worry. It won't be any harder for you to fool the public as chief. Hi, Hammer. Howdy, Scott. Hi, hello, Wally. Can't it be late for you boys to be around, innit? No, I don't know. We sort of figured we'd put the town to bed tonight. How's the 2-11 on time? Right on the nose. She ought to be blowing for the bend in just about three seconds now. Yep. What'd I tell you? It's her now. Expecting anyone, owner, Scott? No, Elmer, I'm not expecting anyone. Wally and I just thought we'd come over and watch it come in, that's all. You know, Elmer, you never can tell who might get off, though. Dick Turpin, Henry Morgan, Jesse James, Dick, Jack the Ripper, or six officers of murder incorporated, or even your Aunt Gussie. You're right, Wally. Well, there she be. Pardon me, James, but I've got to be rolling the wagon out to the baggage car. Can't complain, can't complain, Cap. Well, maybe you can, Elmer, but I sure can if you hold us up with that freight there. You got much more? Nope, this is the last piece now. Here, Cap, all done. Okay. Do you see what I see? I mean, do I see the man who just cut off that train? The answer's yes. Well, he's a ringer for the guy we got a picture of. That is the guy. Well then, what do we do now? We take him, Wally. My car's at the corner of the alley. But, Scott, you tell him up the street. Okay, Scott. There he goes now, over toward the taxi stand. Come on, let's follow him. Hello, Furman. All right. You're Mr. Furman, aren't you? Yes, I am. Can I help you? Yes. I'm Scott Anderson, Chief, please. What? Chief, what's happened to her? Happened to who? Oh, no, you don't. Let me go. Okay, stop it. No, no, no. Wait a minute. Well, Furman? Well, I... I'm sorry. For a moment there, I thought you weren't really a policeman. Thanks. Nice to know I look almost human. Yes, it was silly of me. I'm sorry. Well, let's get going now, before anything else happens. Okay, Furman, get in the car. I'll drive, Scott. Anyhow... Two police headquarters? That's right. Philadelphia? I... I don't think I understand. You understand that you want it in Philadelphia for murder, don't you? Murder? Why? That's ridiculous. That's... Who told you that? Well, it's a cinch. He didn't make it up. But wait, there must be... Take it easy now. This way we'll get down to headquarters. And I'll show you what I mean. This is the circular on Mr. Furman. It was sent out by the Trans-America Detective Agency in Philadelphia. Take a look at it. Oh, $1,500 reward for the... arrest and conviction of Lester Furman, Elias Lloyd Fields, Elias J.D. Carpenter for the... for the murder of Paul Frank Dunlap in Philadelphia on December 8, 1942. Well... It's a lie. Oh, yes, but... That's your picture on the circular, isn't it? Yes, yes, but I... Scott, I see you and Wally got Furman, huh? Oh, hello, George. You lucky stiffs. Now you too split a grand and a half reward. I've never seen nothing like it. You know, if it ain't vacations in New York at the city's expense, it's a reward dough. George, some day, if you don't remember, you're the jailer around here, not the DA. You're gonna be wearing your teeth on the outside of your lips, and I'll be the guys who arrange in that way. Savvy? Oh, just cause you're caught a guy who's hot and Philadelphia. It's a lie. It's a frame-up. You can't prove anything. There's nothing to prove. I never killed anybody. I won't be framed. I won't be framed. I won't be framed. Take it easy. You're wasting your breath on us. Save it for the Philadelphia police. We're just holding you for them. But it's not the police. It's the trans-American detectives. Please, turn you over to the Philadelphia police. Mr. Anderson, I... Well, then... Then there's nothing I can do now. There's nothing any of us can do. Good morning. You'll have to search you now. Then we won't bother you anymore until they come for you. What are you looking through his bag? I'll see what he's got in his pockets. Okay, Scott. Well, all he's got on him are some business cards. A few letters. A hundred and... Only fifteen. A hundred and sixty dollars. A book of checks in the Philadelphia bank and a few odds and ends. Watch with the bag, Wally. Not much. A couple of changes of clothes. Some toilet articles and... Oh, here's a thirty-eight. Loaded. Pretty little thing, isn't it? Okay, put those things when I got in the vault. All right, George. You can take for him an hour and lock him up. This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever done. Come on, darling. Come on. We ain't had nobody in our little hoose cow for three days running. Hey, huh? Now you'll have it all to yourself. Just like a sweet of the rich. Come on in, you go. I tell you, you're making a mistake. I demand to be allowed to get in touch with my lawyer. Hey, how about you boys cutting me in on a little of that blood money, huh? Oh, sure, George. Sure. I'll forget all about that two and a half you've been on me for three months. Make Furman as comfortable as you can, George. Take good care of him. He's valuable, huh? Yeah, now there was some bomb that didn't mean a nickel to you. George, any day now I'm going to forget that your uncle is county chairman and throw you back in the gutter just to see how high you'll bounce. Remember that. Oh, Scott, I... I didn't mean nothing. That's all, George. I'm on the rest. I'm going home now. If anything's urgent, I can reach there. But get this. I don't want to be disturbed, unless it is urgent. Yeah, Wally, what time is it? It's five after six in the morning and you'd better come right down, Scott. That fellow Furman's hung himself. What? Women hung himself? Yep, by his belt from a window bar, dead in a mackerel. I'll be right in, Wally. Phone Doc Kamzley and tell him I'll pick him up on my way down. No doctor's going to do Furman any good, Scott. I don't want her to have him looked at. You'd better phone the chronic court at Douglasville, too, and file a routine report. Already did that. Once more, hold on to your seat. The DA is on his way over, in person. The DA? Yeah. I'll be there before you hang up, Wally. What's he burning about? Oh, he's just mad, running up quite a phone bill on us, too. Been calling Philadelphia every couple of minutes since he got here. What kept you so long? Ah, I couldn't get my car started. Now let's go in and see the old buzzard. No, Ted? Listen, Scott, what is all this? Oh, what? There's some funny business going on here. What's funny about it? Man hangs himself. Just another case of suicide. Sure, it was suicide. But I just telephoned Trans America. And took a guy out of bed there. And he said they'd never send out circulars on Furman. Didn't know about any murder he was wanted for. All they could tell me about him was he used to be a client of theirs. You know what to say, Ted? I don't either. Oh, a fine chief of police you are. What on earth kept you so long? Car start. Game as quick as it could. She's so crabby, Ted. Nothing. I guess it's just a district attorney in me. Ah, now, come, come, gentlemen. Nobody'd know you two are staunch admirers of each other. Okay, Wally. Hear me. What do you make of it? Well, there's plenty wrong, Scott. First, that Trans America thing. They never send out circulars about Furman. And now, get this. I talked to the Philly police just before you came in. There wasn't even any Paul Frank Dunlap murdered. There wasn't? No. What did you get out of Furman before you let him hang himself? But he was innocent. Didn't you grill him? Didn't you find out what he was doing in town? Wally, didn't you? What for? He admitted he was Furman. The description fitted him. The photograph was him. The Trans America Detective Agency's supposed to be on the level, ain't it? Philadelphia wanted Furman. We didn't. But Scott... I sure, Ted. If I'd known he was going to hang himself. But then, if your aunt wore pants, she'd be your uncle. He said Furman had been a client of Trans America. They tell you what the job they did for him was? His wife left him a couple of years ago, and he had them hunting for her for five or six months. But they never found her. They're sending a man up here tonight to look things over. Yeah, right? Yes. Well, I'm going out and grab a quick bite. But I might as well tell you, Scott, there's going to be trouble over this. I know that, Ted. It usually is when somebody dies in a jail cell. So what's become of that 1,500 fish now, eh, Scott? What happened there last night, George? Nothing. Furman hung himself. Did you find him? Uh-huh. Wally took a look in here to see how things was before he went off duty, and he found him. You're asleep, I suppose. Well, uh, I was catching a nap, I guess, but everybody does that sometimes, Scott. Even Wally sometimes when he comes in off his beat between rounds. But I always wake up when the phone rings or anything. Oh, sure. Well, suppose I had been awake. Can't hear a guy hanging himself, can ya? And I can't really say how long Furman had been dead. He'd done it about five o'clock, he said, he guessed. Oh, you want to look at the remains, Scott? They're over at Fritz's Undertaken, Paula. Not now. Hey, and speaking of Furman, what are you going to tell the guys from Transamerica when they show up here tonight? Come in, come in. They told me I'd find you here, you're Chief Anderson, aren't you? That's right. I'm Carl Riesing, assistant manager of the Transamerica Detective Agency in Philadelphia. This is Mr. Wheelock, who was Lester Furman's personal attorney. Glad to know you, Mr. Riesing. How do you do, Mr. Wheelock? How do you do? I know you gentlemen are already in possession of most of the details concerning Mr. Furman from the time he arrived in Dearwood until the time of his death. But perhaps you don't know that the police of most towns in our corner of the state have also received copies of this same reward circular. Take a look at it. Oh, oh. I must say this circular is an excellent forgery. You're sure it's a forgery, Mr. Riesing? Oh, yes, there's no doubt about it. But it's an excellent forgery. Tell me, Mr. Wheelock, was Mr. Furman a native Philadelphian? No, my yes. He was a well-known, respectable and prosperous citizen of Philadelphia. Married, I believe. In 1934, he married a 22-year-old girl named Ethel Bryan, daughter of a Philadelphia family. And if Furman's had a child, isn't that right, Mr. Wheelock? Yes, born in 1936, but the child lived only a few months. Mr. Furman's wife disappeared after the child's death. Well, what year was it that she disappeared? Mr. Riesing should remember that. His agency worked on the matter. Oh, I remember it well. Mrs. Furman disappeared in 1937. We never heard anything of her again. Although Furman spent a lot of money trying to locate her. What did she look like, Mr. Riesing? In just a moment, I have a picture of her right here in my briefcase. Ah, here it is. Quite pretty, isn't she? If you care for that type. You see what you mean, Mr. Wheelock? Well, she's attractive as that. Judging by this photo, I'd say that she was a small featured, pretty blonde, with a weak mouth and large, somewhat staring eyes. Well, that's an accurate enough description, all right. If you don't mind, I'd like to have a copy made of that photograph, Mr. Riesing. Oh, you can keep that one if you like. It's one that we had made up at Transamerica. Her description's on the back. Thanks. Did Furman ever divorce her? No, sir. He was a lot in love with her, and he seemed to think that the child's dying made her a little screwy so that she didn't know what she was doing. That's right, isn't it, Mr. Wheelock? That is my belief, Mr. Riesing. You said Furman had money, Mr. Wheelock. But how much did he have? And who gets it? I should say his estate will amount to perhaps a half a million dollars left in its entirety to his wife. Mm-hmm. It's quite a handy sum for anyone to have, I'd say. Mr. Wheelock, everything shows that somebody framed Furman into the day with jail. And that frame-up drove him to suicide. But there has to be something else, a lot else. Well, then, what are you going to do? I'm going to cross the street to the undertaking parlor and have a look at Furman. I'll see you later. Hello, Doc. Hi, Scott. I figured you'd come over here to the undertakers pretty soon. Send your mind, Doc. Let's get out of this crowd. I want to tell you something. I just got rid of two guys in my office. Let's go back there. Suits me. Two of those bruises showed, Scott. What bruises? Furman, up under the hair. There were two bruises. Why didn't you tell me? I'm telling you now, Scott. You weren't here when I made my examination. This is the first time I've seen you since then. Why didn't you spill the stuff about Furman's bruises when you were testifying at the end quest, then? I'm a friend of yours. Do I want to put you in a spot where people can say you drove this champ to suicide by third-degreeing him too rough? Ah, you're nuts. How bad was Furman's head? Well, Scott, that didn't kill him. That's what you mean. There's nothing to matter with his skull. Just a couple of bruises nobody had noticed, and unless they parted the hair, I thought you ought to know, though. Yeah. Thanks, Ben. Yes, who is it? This is Fritz, the undertaker. Listen, Scott, there's a couple of ladies over here that want to take a look at Furman. Is it all right? Who are they? I don't know them. Strangers. What do they want to see him for? I don't... What do you want to see him? Well, I... Furman's wife? Yes. Oh, certainly. I'll be right over. So long, Ben. I've got to go back to the undertakers. So long, Scott. Hey, Scott. What do you want, Wally? I want to talk to you a minute. Over here, where we won't be seen. Okay, what is it? A couple of dames came into Fritz's undertaking place just as I was leaving. One of them's Hot Char Randall, a babe with a record as long as your arm. She's one of that mob you had me working on in New York last summer. Did she know you? Sure, but not by my right name. She thinks I'm a Detroit room runner. I mean, did she recognize you just now? I don't think she saw me. Anyway, she didn't give me a tumble. You don't know the other one? No. She's a blonde, kind of pretty. Okay, Wally. Stick around a while, but stay out of sight. Maybe I'll be bringing these dolls back with me. Whatever you say, Chief. Oh, there you are, Scott. I wondered for you when you were coming. This is Mrs. Furman, and this is Mrs. Crowder. How do you do? Hiya, Chief. They just saw the body. Mrs. Crowder. I thought your name was Randall. What do you care, Chief? I'm not hurting your town, any. Don't call me Chief. You city slickers, I'm the town whittler. Thank you for letting me see him. It's all right, Mrs. Furman. But I'll have to ask you and your friends some questions. So if you'll just come across the street to headquarters, we'll get on with the routine. If I ask any questions, I want to tell you something. Mrs. Furman, your husband didn't commit suicide. He was murdered. Murdered? Ah, Chief, we got alibis. We were in New York, and we can prove it. And you're likely to get a chance to. What brought you down here, anyway? Murdered. Well, Ho's got a better right to come down here. She was still his wife, wasn't she? She's got a right to look out for her own interests, hasn't she? Uh, it reminds me of something. Excuse me a second. I've got to make a phone call in the next room. This is Scott. Yes? Is Wally around? I'll have to keep out of sight. I'll find him for you, though. Right. Tell Wally I want him to go to New York tonight. Send Mason home to get some sleep. He'll have to take over Wally's night trek. Mr. Anderson, Mr. Anderson, do you think I had anything to do with Lester's, with his death? I don't know, Mrs. Furman. I know he was killed. I also know he left you something like half a million. Wow, dollars? Dollars. All right, Chief. Let's stop clowning. The kid here didn't have a thing to do with whatever you think happened. No? No. We read about Lester Furman committing suicide in yesterday morning's paper. And about there being something funny about it. And I persuaded her she ought to come down to deal with Anderson. I wouldn't have done anything to hurt Lester. I left him because I wanted to leave him. I wouldn't have done anything to hurt him for money or anything else. Had I wanted money from him, I would only have had to ask him for it. That's the truth, Chief. For years I've been telling Ethel she was a chump not to tap him. But she never would. I wouldn't have hurt him. Why'd you leave him? Oh, I don't know how to say it. The way we lived wasn't the way I wanted to live. I wanted... Oh, I don't know what. Anyway, after the baby died, I couldn't stand it anymore. Excuse me. Hello? Oh, yeah, Hammer? Hmm? You gave Wally the message? Yes, yes. I want him to go to New York tonight. Okay, where is he? Home? He is home, huh? Okay, thanks. Thanks. This is, uh, Foreman. Uh, this circular that's got your husband in the jail. Have you ever seen that picture before? No. Well, that's... it can't be. It's a snapshot I had... have. It's an enlargement of it. Who else has one? Nobody that I know of. I don't think anyone else could have one. Have you still got yours? Yes. Don't remember whether I've seen it recently. It's with some old papers and things. But I must have it. Well, Mrs. Foreman, it's stuff like that that's got to be checked up. Neither of us can dodge it. Now, there's two ways we can play it. Yes? Mrs. Foreman, I can hold you here on suspicion until I have time to investigate things. Or I can send one of our men with you to check up in New York. Yes? I'm willing to do that if you'll speed things up by helping them all you can. If you'll promise you won't try any tricks. I promise. I'm as anxious as I can. All right. How'd you come down? We drove down. We got a great big car. That's my car, see? That big green job across the street. Yeah. My man can ride back with you, but no funny business. I don't worry, Chief. Come on. We're going to see Wally Shane. The man is going to drive to New York with you. Scott, buddy. Come in. Ladies first. Harry. Careful. No, you don't. No, you don't. No, he was reaching with that gun, Wally. You've already got your cover. I guess you win, Scott. Yeah, I guess I do. Coming along back to headquarters with me like good little boy. Wally, you're under arrest for murder. Oh, I knew it was all up, Scott. The minute I saw those two dames going into Fritz's then when I was ducking out of sight, I ran into you and I was afraid you'd take me over there with you. So I had to tell you one of them knew me, figuring you'd want to keep me under cover for a little while anyhow. Long enough for me to get out of town. Why didn't you get out, Wally? Well, I dropped in home to pick up a couple of things before I scram and that phone call of Hamels catches me and I fall for it. You see, Scott, I figured you're not on to me yet and they're going to send me back to New York to see what dope I can get out of the dames. Well, you fooled me, brother. And I thought you'd fall for that. Then you didn't just stumble into all this accidentally, did you? No, I didn't, Wally. I figured Furman had to be murdered by a copper. To no reward circular is well enough to make a good job of forging one. Incidentally, who printed that Furman circular for you, Wally? No, I'm not dragging anyone in with me. There's only a poor mug that needed dough. Okay, Wally. You see, I knew only a copper would be sure enough of the routine to know how things would be handled. Only one of my coppers would be able to walk in a Furman's cell, bang him across the head and string him up on the... those bruises showed, you know, Wally. They did? I guess I should have wrapped two towels around that blackjack. Well, gee, Scott, I seem to have slipped up on a lot of things. So that gnaws it down to my coppers and... Well, you told me you knew the Randall woman. There it was. Only, I figured you were working with him. I got you like this, Wally. Same thing that gets most saps into jams again for easy dough. When I was in New York, see, Scott, working that done job for you, palling around with big shot racketeers, passing for one of them. Yes. Well, I got to figuring that my work takes more brains than theirs and they're taking in big money and I'm working for coffee and cakes. That kind of stuff gets you, Scott. Anyway, it got me. Then I ran into this Ethel Furman and she goes for me like a house of fire. I liked her too, see, so that's dandy. But one night she tells me about how much dough her husband's got and how he feels about her and I get to thinking... Thinking what? I think she's nuts enough about me to marry me. So I get to thinking, suppose he died and left her his role. I see. So I run down to Philly a couple of afternoons and look Furman up and everything looks fine. I took my time working out the details, meanwhile writing to her through a fellow in Detroit. Go on, finish work. Well, I decided to do it. I sent those circulars out to a lot of places, not wanting to point too much to this one. Then when I was ready, I phoned Furman telling him to come to Deerwood Hotel that night and sometime before the next night he'd hear from his wife, Ethel. I knew he'd fall for any trap that was baited with her. Only I guess I'm not as sharp as I thought I was, Scott. Maybe I am, Wally. Maybe I am. That doesn't always help. Old man Camsley, Ben's father used to have a saying, to a sharp knife comes a tough steak. Well, sorry you did it Wally. I always liked you. I know you did, Scott. I was counting on that. And so ends Dashel Hammett's two sharp knives, starring Stuart Irwin. Tonight's story of, Columbia presents these tales of mystery and intrigue and dangerous adventure for your relaxation and enjoyment. Next week suspense will not be heard. Because of a special holiday broadcast, Columbia's review of the events of the year, 12 crowded months, which has been scheduled. On the following Tuesday, January 5th, there'll be another in this series, same hour, 9.30 Eastern wartime. William Spear, the producer, John Deets, the director and Bernard Herman, the composer-conductor, are collaborators on suspense. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.