 Broadway's My Beat, from Times Square to Columbus Circle, The Gaudiest, The Most Violent, The Lonesomeest Mile in the World. Broadway's My Beat, with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. In Autumn Sunlight, the September Day trots out its promises for Broadway's considering. Displays them in doorways, in push carts, in gutters. Decorates them with price tags. Invites you to browse, don't touch. Buy, don't squeeze. And at cut rates of the second-hand delights, the tears slash down to any man's purse. The bolt ends with dreams. The vendors simper. The hawkers wink. Buy, kid. That's a winter sun on your shoulder and the day is short. So buy. And that's what you do, kid, because on Broadway there's no other choice. And at police headquarters, the September's Day has arranged its wears of violence in your desk. Stacked as to category, degree, grade. Because the day is still fresh, you put off the reaching for them, the touching of them. But it screams close to your ears. John, I got something of interest to you. And walk the corridor to the room of the dead. Through the swinging doors into a place without season, where all nights, all days are of equal length. Where temperature is constant, where the wind is conditioned before it's let flow over death. Walk up to the man who waits for you. I'm nervous to switch Danny, to juggle things with my right hand. Maybe I'll be remembered for it. What have you got, Dr. Sinski? The man lying there. They found him in his bed last night, murdered. These that murdered him. Two bullets. Look. A 22 and a 32. Wouldn't you say so, doctor? That I wouldn't know. What I know is only one of these was needed to kill him. Either one. The man was one of dead twice, Danny. He was killed twice. Two bullets. Different size. Twice dead. You know who he was? When they brought him to me last night, there was a tag on him. A name, Tom Keeler. An address, the Nixon Hotel. Nothing else. No other word to the living about why such things would happen. You're sure, doctor? You're sure that the... Each wound was a mortal wound, Danny. Each wound could... Yeah. I'm sure. One of these, huh? Yeah. And that's the way my day began. And the ingredients of it were a medical examiner, a murdered man, and two bullets. In a room of no value except to the dead. Except to those whose business is with death. Consider that briefly, then push it away. Leave, go, get out, and hurry. And in the corridor, find what you're looking for. The breath of air not controlled by a thermostat. Look down the hall, turn over the two bullets to technical. Then outside, in the squad car, in the ride to West 25th Street, into the Nixon Hotel, to the five-story brownstone that seemed to list from pressure of the insurance housing project, neck door to it. Go in. Ring a bell. Wait. Be greeted by the man in gray suspenders and no shirt. Good morning. Good morning. I'm Danny Clover, police. You had a little trouble here last night, didn't you? Oh, just a mess of it. Did you know the man who was killed? You mean Tom, huh? That's right, Tom Keeler. What do you mean, know him? Talk to him, have a beer with him. Said hi to him, that's about the extent of my to-do with him. How about visitors? Did he have any? Look at the sign over my shoulder, Mr. Clover. Mr. Clover. You know some clovers down in Selma, Alabama. You and he can't do any Clover. No, no, no. Look at the sign over my shoulder. No visitors, no visitors. Do you think just because the sign is there, Tom Keeler didn't have any visitors? No, no, I don't, Mr. We got a sign in each and every room, says no smoking in bed. In the last year, we had three mattress fires. So what I'm saying is I never saw anybody sneak past this desk that I said to myself there's a Tom Keeler visitor. What else about Keeler? Well, we got mail this morning, maybe I ought to tell you that. Yeah, maybe you should. Fresh mail that come this morning. Here, the letter. Well, thanks. From the great Northern National Bank. So I see. Please come in and talk to us with regards to your commercial account at your earliest convenience. You read upside down, Mr. Quantra? I've lived in Baltimore. Oh, thank you, Mr. Quantra. Thanks a lot. And for that, Randy Quantrill winked at me, laughed noiselessly at me, leaned against the mail rack, scratched his back with it. It wasn't the moment to intrude any longer on such private pleasures. So I left him. At the great Northern National Bank, a guard uniformed in tattletail gray took my name, my business, walked on a marble aisle with them, and I aligned with identical desks, identical faces behind them. Unearingly, the guard chose one, the right one. That was a shrewd guard. He muted his voice to the extracurricular business I had brought to the great Northern, offered it to the man. The man considered it, digested it, and when he had it all in order, motioned me to the chair the guard had placed discreetly close to him. I'm told we can help you, Mr. Clover. Man named Tom Keeler had a checking account here. They're aware of it. Then you know that he was murdered last night in a cheap hotel? They're aware of many things, Mr. Clover. I'm sorry, I can't hear you. I say that our research department makes a point of informing each of us here on many diverse matters, matters that could even most remotely concern. Thank you. I said thank you because you left me here what you had to say. I was appointed, Mr. Clover. Should any questions arise about the late Thomas Keeler? Should any questions arise I was to answer the question. Your interrogation is what, Mr. Clover? We down at headquarters think it's strange Tom Keeler slept in a flop house when he had a checking account with us. Uh-huh. Question, Mr. Clover. Pardon me? I say that all we know of Thomas Keeler is that we were asked to transfer $50 weekly to his account, which we have done religiously until... Who asked you to do that? Counselor's Law. George Weber. If you want his address, we should give it to him. Thanks. You're saying you did this until... Until what? Until two weeks ago. When Mr. Weber asked us to discontinue his generosity. Why? I suggest it is a personal matter concerning Mr. Weber. I'm not troubling you with it. What? Why? I'm sorry, I... I said that I... Never mind. Probably wasn't important. And go to the Park Avenue apartments of George Weber. Be told by the person at the desk that Mr. Weber is not at home. Perhaps at his office, the person suggested. And be handed a slip of paper with the office address in a handwriting with the eyes dotted with small circles. Weber and Marley, a slip said. Attorneys, finance building, suite 12. Go there. Go through a door and pass the beam of an electric eye. Wade through a carpet to a desk and an olive skinned girl with tight black hair. Offer your name, show your credentials and be told Mr. Weber is out when you see his partners to Paul Marley. You would. You're nodded past another door and another beam. And to a slender young man who is waiting for you in front of a wall lined with every law book ever written. Be chaperoned by him through yet another door. There he was. Paul Marley. Partner to George Weber, impeccable in morning coat, striped pants and an army discharge button in his lapel. That'll be all, Roberts. Now, sit down, please, Mr.... Clover. Clover. Please, sit down. Thank you. The information you gave out there says you're a policeman. That's right. This is about what, sir? What can I do for you? It's about a man named Tom Keeler. Keeler? Keeler? Man found murdered last night. Shot twice with different caliber bullets. Either one fatal. Yeah. Is all this a matter of legal advice for the police department? You want to know if a man was shot by two people and each shot... That's not it at all. Tom Keeler, it seems, was supported by your partner. By Mr. Weber. That's right. Each week, $50 was drawn on Mr. Weber's account and deposited in favor of Tom Keeler. Surely. But no mistake. That's the way it was. But I know Mr. Weber so well. His affairs, everything. Where is he? On Fire Island, since the day before yesterday. He has a place there. I'm pretty sure he went there. A lot of season for Fire Island, isn't it? Oh, I don't think so. The end of September? Mr. Weber goes there all year round. Whenever? Whenever what? Whenever he's disturbed. He has the idea of the sea, the strand, the loneliness of it. What was Mr. Weber disturbed about? He has a sister, Peggy. She's just 20, so you can imagine. No, I can't. Beautiful girl of 20, rich, and you can't imagine... Look, Mr. Marley... My partner was constantly arguing with her. We're a conservative firm, Mr. Clover. Individually, both Mr. Weber and myself feel... What's that got to do with Peggy? Peggy Weber is headstrong. How? I take my partner's word for it that she's headstrong. And they argued, Peggy and her brother. What about it? I have no idea. And he went to Fire Island to recuperate. One way of saying it. Anything else, Mr. Clover? No. Then please, these documents here, if you don't mind. And get in touch with the authorities at Fire Island. Check on the whereabouts of Mr. George Weber and wait. And an hour later, a phone call. Mr. Weber is not on Fire Island. Mr. Weber's place there is deserted. From the looks of it hasn't been inhabited for over a month. So come up with a conclusion. Mr. George Weber was missing. Put out an old-point bulletin on him. And go back to his Park Avenue apartment. Make a request of the management. We're always glad to accommodate the police. Then let's go, show me. Of course. Mr. Weber's apartment, right this way, down the hall. Yes, sir. Although, I'd like to know why we should intrude. Don't worry about it. Yes, sir. Open the door. Of course. And here we are. Yeah. We are, aren't we? What? What did you say? What did you say, Mr. Clover? I didn't... Oh! It stopped both of us. The management and myself. It was a site that needed only one glance and the details were there forever. The free-shaped coffee table and the grotesquery of the man spread beside it. The tracery of blood that stopped abruptly. Mr. Weber? That's Mr. Weber. The pen knife, bone-handled and cheap in his heart to be remembered. Details in the death of George Weber. You are listening to Broadway's My Beat written by Morton Fein and David Friedkin and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. There will be a slight pause while we think of an adjective to describe Mario Lanza. Sorry, I guess there just isn't one adjective to describe a guy who sings just as well in the popular range as in the classics. But here's a suggestion. On CBS Radio tomorrow night over most of these same stations, don't miss Mario Lanza's All Request Show. And more of the same by lovely Giselle Mackenzie and Ray Sinatra's music. When the night slips out of Broadway's fingers and the false dawn blurs the shadows, Broadway stands bewildered. The carnival is run down. Only the stragglers walk it with their step without pattern, like their dreams. And the color of their loneliness is the darkened neon, the last sparks of a cigarette butt and pavement gray. And they walk it. They never know. Broadway's closed for the night. And somehow or another, whether it deserves it or not, the world gets to be nine o'clock in the morning. Then there's a place for everybody. It's daytime, breakfast time, work time, make a dollar time. Or as Sergeant Geno Tartaglia said it. Well, lend me a dollar, Danny. Oh, sure, Geno. Here. Thank you. The reason for this transaction, Danny, is... No, you don't have to explain it. I want to. I want to. Go right ahead. Thank you. Mrs. Tartaglia forgot to tuck my dollar into my lunchbox today, as his hoe won't, for the little things a man needs during the day. She just phoned me and confessed her deletion of duty in this mansion. Geno... She said ask Danny for it. And tomorrow she will tuck in two dollars so that you will not go hungry. Tell Mrs. T. not to worry. Roger. Welcome. And now, Danny, to the chores of the day. Knife, which did George Weber in, was of the variety which can be purchased at our leading hardware stores for the nominal sum of 198. Practically unthraceable. Prints. White, clean. Go on. Well, that's about the sum and substance of the intelligence which has been shunted from the downstairs to the here, Danny. As of now. However... Yeah. A young lady is in the anti-ruman wants to see you. Who is she? The Miss Peggy Weber, sister of the most latterly deceased. Get her. This way to see Danny Clover. Sit down, Miss Weber. That'll be all, Geno. I'm glad you came, Miss Weber. Your name's right here on my calendar to see today. I knew you'd want to question me about George. How did you hear about his death? I was home. The late news on the radio. You see, I didn't live with my brother. We didn't get along. Oh? Gonna be a lot simpler now with him gone. I wore a black dress like this one for a month and call it a decent interval of mourning. It's not any concern of mine, Miss Weber. Well, it's entirely your concern, Mr. Clover. Your position demands that you locate people who would have motives for murdering my brother. I would. Did you kill him? A few of my friends and I got together some time ago. For kicks. We were going to try things together, you know. Just for kicks. Black magic. Well, I spent the first ten days of my membership sticking pins into my brother's picture. And all that happened is that he got a style on his eye. Outside of that, I never harmed a hair on his head. Why all this hate, Miss Weber? Simply this. I love a boy. I told George about him. George got red, then blue, red again, and then a lovely color I never saw before. He found out who the boy was. Ruined him. Who is the boy? Ralph Clay. Now runs a bowling alley on third. One more thing. Do you know a man named Tom Keeler? Not of hand. Why? Oh, never mind. Leave your address to Sergeant Tataglia, Miss Weber, and thank you very much. You, Ralph Clay? Huh? Oh, hello. He asked me to my dying day. He walked into an empty hall, Mr. I feel real sorry about. Don't be, uh, this way we can have a long talk. Shall we? Don't let it get away, Miss Tai. I'll take care of this thing coming up. Kingpin's seventh pin. Challenge. What do you think? Go ahead. Watch me. Never say go ahead to me in that tone, Miss. They're not on that shot. My quirk, each day I live for it. I'll remember, Mr. Clay. Look. Police. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sticky thumb and a ball, Mr. Police. Have fun. I'll write it off under entertainment. Joint's bad, no one will know. Something Peggy Weber said, it sent me to you. Peggy, a girl of class. Did she tell you how to kill her, Brennan? I got the impression she was in love with you. Pretty, the girl. She lives in ancient history. In a time where she loved and I love back. Both ancient history. Under the bridge. Peggy did something to you? She had a brother. Now dead, I read. It stopped me for a breath on the way to the sports page. George Weber did something to you? Yeah, yeah, yeah. And I'm a man who likes to talk about it. My daily nourishment. You share it with me? Yeah. Georgie poured you Weber didn't like how his sister used to put her hand in mine, so he marked me lousy. How? Standing before you, Mr. Police, is a boy who once thought he was a lawyer. Cap and hand, he went to Georgie as soon to be a brother-in-law. I asked for a job, keeping it in the family. Georgie smiled, shook his head, no. And with words and music, he told me he'd spoiled me any job I took, many when he knew. Because you loved his sister? I was second to my class in law school. You want to invent other reasons? Why hate Peggy for it? Things like that run in the blood. I don't stick around until it comes out in Peggy and slaps me in the head. Then that gives you a motive for having killed Weber. Yeah, ain't that a luck, you know. And Tom Keeler, what did you have for him? Keeler? A man who got killed in a flea bag. A man Weber supported until... Typical, typical. They're supporting him. Good old Uncle Tom was an old friend of Georgie's and Peggy's father. After the father died, Uncle Tom still hung around. Why is he called Uncle? Peggy calls him Uncle because he was her confessor, her hero. Everything that ate Peggy, she brought to good old Uncle Tom. Not to her brother. Who goes to a man like that except to kill him? I'll give you something to ponder, Mr. Police. Yeah, you did. I'm glad. Makes me want to live through another day. Watch the bitter boy make his strike. And consider the lie he'd flipped to you. The girl's lie that she didn't know Tom Keeler. And wonder over it. Jotted down in memory as a future conversation piece with Peggy Weber. And then, remember a man who said he knew all about George Weber? Everything, everything but the mention of Keeler's share in his partner's life. Go to him, wait for him to finish his preening. To taste to the full the decorations bestowed upon men of know-how. Got this little time machine for being on my toes, Mr. Clover. Handsome tidbit, isn't it? Yeah, yeah it is. Seventeen jewels, Hamilton. All because I proved in court a chap's wife had been unfriendly to said chap. Look what the grateful devil had engraved in the gold. To chum Paul Marley for setting me free. To chum. What was there about Tom Keeler that shot your mouth about him? My compliments, Mr. Clover. Brilliant strategy. Attack while the enemy celebrates minor victories in tactics class at Fort Mead. You told me about Weber, personal things about him, his sister. Why not about Tom Keeler? It pained me. For George's sake, my deceased partner's sake, it pained me. You'll show me where it hurts. You think you'll be able to understand? Don't answer, it doesn't matter. Keeler was a derelict, a bum, a hungry shadow in George's closet. That's why George opened that account for him. To keep him from coming here to beg. George and I had a large investment here. The presence of Keeler was harder. Weber cut off the account. But my insistence, my counsel, it made quite a row the other day. Between Tom and George, I had to shoot people back to their deaths. You killed George Weber? Attack, attack. I admire your method, Mr. Clover. Well the investment, the plush carpets, the perfumed secretaries, the junior partners, all yours now. You killed Weber for that? The death of my partner was a great loss to me, Mr. Clover. A personal loss. Were it in my humble power to hunt out his assassins, I would dedicate my knowledge, my life, my... Yes? Danny, something I can do for you? Dr. Sinski, I have an idea about something I want you to check it for me. Gladly. Get out the medical examiner's report on Tom Keeler. Gladly. Here. What do you want it for? I want to put it side by side with this one I've got on George Weber. So? Here. Look. It says Weber died the day before yesterday at approximately 6 p.m. Uh-huh. And it says in this report that Keeler died about midnight on the same day. You know what that means, doctor? No, why? There's a pencil on your desk. Figure it out. You used my address after all. Mind if I come in, Miss Weber? This evening you can go as far as calling me Peggy. But you can't come in. I'm afraid I'll have to... You'll have to force your way in? Well, I could relish that. Peggy. But a friend's visiting with me. Ralph Clay. You said the password. If you know that, you might as well come in. Ralph! Come out, come out wherever you are! Say hello to Mr. Clover, Ralph. I told you a big fib didn't I, Mr. Clover? What? No, you know. I didn't know whether you'd broken off with Peggy or not. It doesn't matter anymore. You want to ask Peggy questions, huh? You too. Goodie, goodie. You lied to me too, Peggy. Because I'm a liar. I give Ralph a lot of trouble that way, don't I, Ralph? Let's just listen to what the man has to say. You're lying about Keeler, Peggy. You said you didn't know who he was. I explained it to you. I'm a liar. I found out who killed your brother, Peggy. I said I... We heard you. There were a lot of motive floating around, Peggy. Yours... Leave her alone. She didn't kill her brother. I'll cut it out, Ralph. Peggy. Ralph had nothing to do with it. I did it. What's the matter with you, Peggy? You're a liar, you're a liar. That's why you're saying you killed your brother. Ralph, Ralph... Neither one of you killed him. You thought Ralph did, Peggy, and Ralph... What are you trying to do to us, Clover? What are you doing? Placing methods? Trying to get us to play against each other? Take it easy, Ralph. Go on, take it easy, Ralph. What are you trying to say? Talk, talk! Tom Keeler killed Peggy's brother. What? Help me up. Listen to me, both of you... Clover! Let him talk, Ralph! Keeler killed him because his source of income was cut off. A man like Keeler could kill. A desperate man, a man without livelihood. A tramp who made a habit of living off someone else's generosity. Ralph, help. It was all my fault. You found your brother dead, didn't you, Peggy? Yes, and I... You thought Ralph did it? Yes, I thought... Oh, Ralph... It's gonna be all right, baby. Peggy went to her uncle Tom like she always did when she was in trouble. Told him Ralph had killed her brother. What did Tom Keeler say to you, Peggy? He said... He said not to worry. Just not to worry. Then he got in touch with you, huh, Ralph? Yeah. Yeah, he did. You know what he told me? I think so. He told me Peggy killed her brother. And he was the killer all the time. And I'm supposed to be a bright boy. So he had each of you believing the other had killed George Weber. How much money did he want from each of you to protect the other? Oh, what difference does it make? Doesn't matter anymore. Blackmailer. That's why Tom Keeler's dad, too, murdered. Yeah. You slapped the cuffs on me for that one, Chloe. No, Ralph. No more. You don't have to anymore. Mr. Clover, my uncle said he wanted everything I had to keep quiet about Ralph. So I went up to his hotel room while he was sleeping. And shot him. No. No, Peggy, that's what I did. That's what you both did. To protect the other. You both shot Tom Keeler. Peg. Peggy? There's a time on Broadway when the crowd gives up. Goes home. The lights buzz fitfully die. Then it's a street of dim moonlight and dark whispers. And the wind of the autumn night. The wind that scatters everything. Yesterday's headlight. Yesterday's dreams. Yesterday's people. It's Broadway, the gaudiest. The most violent. The lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway. My Beat. Broadway's My Beat stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover with Charles Calvin as Tertaglia and Jack Prussian as Muggevin. The program was produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with musical score composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. In tonight's story, Lillian Bayef was heard as Peggy Weber. Anthony Barrett as Ralph Clay. Paul Freese as Randy Quantrill. Bob Bruce as Mr. Chase. And Edgar Berrier as Paul Marley. Here are two Sunday features that have captured America's fancy year in and year out. On Sunday afternoon, the distinguished music of The Simphonet directed by Michelle Piastro. On Sunday evening, the outstanding vocals of the corollaires. Listen for both these musical treats every Sunday on most of these same CBS radio stations. The Simphonet in the afternoon. In the evening, the corollaires. Stay tuned now for Songs for Sale which follows immediately over most of these same stations. Bill Anders speaking. And remember this Monday night, Lux Radio Theatre features 13 Hollywood stars in the Gala Salute on the CBS radio network.