 The Adventures of Sam Spade Detective brought to you by Wild Root Cream Oil Heratonic, the non-alcoholic heratonic that contains lanolin. Wild Root Cream Oil, again and again, the choice of men who put good grooming first. Spade Detective Agency. Same wah, sweetheart. Oh Sam, how did it go? Well, it wasn't exactly a ten-and-one outfit, more of a mud show, dog and pony type, you know, rag front. Sam, what are you talking about? And by the way, where were you last night? I missed the last bus in from the cow palace, so I had to do a star pitch. Connie talk after. Oh, if you think I'm going to ask what a star pitch is, you're mistaken. What were you doing at the cow palace? Oh, just...bullying around. Oh, Sam? Yes? Um, Sam? Yes? You asked her any questions. Sweetheart, in the patois of the carnival, I'll be right down to pitch my spiel, spiel my pitch, and make with a canvas on the blue beard caper. 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 by the makers of Wild Root Cream Oil for the hair. Say, Mom, if the summer winds are making Junior's hair drier and mustier than it should be, why not borrow a little of Dad's Wild Root Cream Oil and restore that sweet, angelic look? You'll find Wild Root Cream Oil Hair Tonic comes in handy for every member of the family. It grooms the hair so neatly and naturally, relieves that summer dryness, and removes loose dandruff, too. Better check on your supply right now. If it's running low, then tonight or tomorrow, first thing, get Wild Root Cream Oil Hair Tonic. Again and again, the choice of men who put good grooming first. And now, with Howard Duff starring as Spade, Wild Root brings to the air the greatest private detective of them all in the adventures of Sam Spade. Ready, Effie? Yes, ma'am. By the way, what is a star pit? Oh, you're closed. You look as if you slept on the ground. That's what it is. Date, August 8, 1948, 2, Detective Lieutenant Dunley, Homicide Detail, San Francisco Police. From Samuel Spade, license number 17596. Subject, the, uh, blue beard caper. I, uh, will not offer as an extenuating circumstance the fact that business is bad all over. But it is true that I'd been sitting in my office for four hours and the phone had not rung once. This one didn't fall. Then the look sudden, he didn't have the required nickel. The hangover he was wearing under his eyes had cost some in a pretty penny, so I figured his credit might be good somewhere. Mr. Spade. Yeah? Oh, my head. Yeah, try this. Oh. Want it mixed? Oh, no, no, no soda. I couldn't stand the noise. Where'd you wake up? In any same clothes. Figures. Uh, it all started at my sister's engagement party. Uh, mint julips. Mm. They must have been full of flukum. Flukum. Uh, you don't happen to have an ice bag. It's customary for my clients to bring their own. Oh. Well, now here's a spiel. Uh, did I tell you my name? The name you gave my secretary was Ned Towers. You want to stick with that? Yeah, Ned. Ned Towers. Yeah. It's about my sister. Her name? Uh, Sylvia. Sylvia Towers. Sylvia Towers. But it's not about her, really. It's about that bluebird. I mean bluebird. She's married. Jefferson Davis Calhoun. What about him? Oh, that marriage has got to be stopped. I found out that his name's not Calhoun at all, that he's been married three times at her, three different names, and that all his wives died mysteriously, and that he collected their insurance, and now he's talked my sister into ensuring herself for 100,000 bucks in his paper. When did you learn all this? In a barbershop yesterday. Oh. I went in to get a manicure, and I picked up this old detective magazine. Here's his picture. Oh, look at it. I had heard of the case. In his heyday, the papers had called in the mint julebromio, and any name he happened to be using at the time had Colonel in front of it. None of his three wives had survived the honeymoon. Wife number one, an aviatrix, bailed out at 10,000 feet over Mount Hood along with her husband. His parachute opened, hers didn't. They found the body the following spring. Wife number two, a snake dancer, died of snake bite when she squared off with a full-fang diamond back instead of her usual non-poisonous partner. The cause of death was never officially proven because the body was embalmed by mistake, it said there, before the coroner arrived. And finally, number three, a professional stunt woman disappeared over Niagara Falls in a beer cake instead of her specially designed barrel and was never seen again. Well, Mr. Spain? Yeah, but are you sure your sister's fiancé, this Calhoun, is the same guy? Here's a picture of them together. They're engagement photographs. What do you think? Brunette. My sister? Redhead. That's him on our left. Redhead? Well, Mr. Towers, are we going to sit idly by and see another poor girl go to her death? How much money you got? About $100. I'll take $50 now. You are going to help her. How much does she already know? I tried to tell her. She's beautiful. She wouldn't even listen. I thought she might listen to you. I pray she will, Ned. I pray she will. There were two aspects of the case that I wanted to look over more closely. The first was Sylvia's red hair and B, the red splotches on my client's face. I had a hunch she might be suffering from more than a hangover. So I dropped him at the address of a medical friend of mine who specializes in poisons. He said the tests would take most of the afternoon, so I decided to find out who was Sylvia. What was she? Was she as kind as she was fair? Yes? Yes. I beg your pardon? Miss Towers? Yes, I'm Sylvia Towers. Are you the florist? You were expecting maybe a detective? Come in. Thanks, I will. As a matter of fact, I wasn't expecting a florist or anyone else. But I'm glad to see you. I really am. Huh? Sit down here. I was just relaxing. Oh, no, over here. Oh. Well, why not? There. Isn't this more cozy? Take your hat off. Oh, you'll have me believing you really are a detective. What do I look like? Well, I'll have to model it over. Now, don't tell me. Let me dream. Like Sylvia. Miss Towers, I mean. Oh, Sylvia. I like the way you dress. Nice and casual. Oh, you do? But you know, you really shouldn't wear a handkerchief. Hey, hey. You ticklish. Well, look, if you want to frisk me, get it over with. It's your apartment. You got a right to. Well, isn't this way nice? Sure. It's fine. It's just that, in fact, I just didn't expect. Well, what do you want, a butterfly act? No, it's just that my feelings are hurt you. Haven't asked me who I am, what I'm doing here, anything. Oh, I don't care. I like you. Is this how you got engaged to Calhoun? No, he was selling some phony stock certificates. So I bought a few. They were phony, so you bought a few. I guess. He'd had bad luck with marriage. It was the only way I could force the issue. You're forcing him into marrying you? Darling, don't be so critical. I did it very nicely. I'm sure you did, but why? Oh, I don't know. He's so, so courtly. A real southern gentleman. How real? Hand me that cushion, darling. Oh. Oh, no. Here. It's behind my head. Oh. Oh, that's better. Well, don't go away. Why do you want to be number four in a good parade? Oh, do you really think he did kill them? Oh, that's one of two theories. He's a dead tree, didn't he? Oh, I love your hair. So nice, bristly. Does this bother you? Yeah, but don't stop. Now, wait a minute. Look, I've got my client to think about and I'm trying to think about it. Darling. I didn't want to take this assignment, so I thought I'd be worried about you. Oh, now, who on earth would be worried about me? I'm a little worried about you, myself, and I'm not even distantly related to you. Well, don't say that, yes. This marriage may not last long. Don't you say that. Oh, I know his marital life has been full of tragedies, but I'm not superstitious. I think I may change his luck. Okay, Sylvia. Okay, it's your life. I told your brother I talked to you and I have. My brother? Yeah, Ned. I think maybe your boyfriend tried to poison him last night. Oh, no. You're just in time. Well, my dear, we will discuss this further in private. I have only this to say at the present time. In the South, it is not customary for a lady to receive a gentleman alone just prior to her marriage to another gentleman. But, Jeff... I know your motives were pure and innocent. Customs differ, that's all. I am Colonel Calhoun at your service, sir. I'll call you when I need you. I'm afraid I must ask you to remain. Sylvia. Oh, Jeff, I meant to tell you. It was just a flirtation. Yeah, that's all. You mean he made certain proposals? Well, what did I do? What could she do? He said there were things in your past, Jeff. Yeah, that's what I said. Oh, there, there, my dear. It was blackmail. Absolutely. I did it for you, Jeff. Go to your chambers, Sylvia. I will deal with this adventurer. If this were the South, there would be better ways but never fear where there's a Calhoun there, too. You will find southern chivalry. Please. No, Jeff, phone the police. Sylvia, I must insist that you do as I say. Very well, Jeff. Well, sir. How about you and me putting our heads together over a little old matured person? Fine, sir. I'm not thirsty yet. What's the fetch, Colonel? How come your girlfriend yelled Hey Rubes just now? What is your asking price, sir? What's your bid? Uh, $5,000 now. $5,000 after she's buried. $20,000 after the insurance people pays off. No dice. Capers worth $100 grand. $50 for me, $50 for you. That is out of the question, sir. Okay. From here I go to the cops. Then our son, let's not be hasty about this. It will require a slight change of plan, but I reckon I can swing it. All right, $50,50. When are you going to knock her off? You want her to fly the coop? Is there another way out of here? Well, not that I know of, but she's crafting. She's crafting? Well, come on. Let's get it over. Yes, you're right. Maybe now or never. That's fine. Sylvia? Hey, wait a minute. Come here. What is it? How are you going to do it? Well, hit her with this and then out the window. Let me see then. Yeah. Looks good. Quite a heft to it. Where'd you get this sap? Souvenir of Niagara Falls. Know where you're going to get it? What are you, Yankee? The souvenir of Niagara Falls was deadlier than I thought. The blows spun him around like a top and he went down on the other side of the room taking the bar and the mint julep ingredients along with him. I headed for the room Sylvia disappeared into, but she had already disappeared out of it. I looked in the closets, the bathroom, under the bed, tapped the walls for secret panels and then forced myself to look out the only possible exit, the open window. Ten stories, sheer drop to the street. Two stories, sheer unclamable masonry to the roof. I get this, Dundee. No other exit, no horizontal ledges, drain pipes, niches, cornices, not even a helicopter landing. I asked myself, who is Sylvia? What is she? The makers of Wild Root Cream Oil are presenting the weekly Sunday adventure of Dashel Hammett's famous private detective Sam Spade. If you want the well-groomed look that helps you get ahead, socially and on the job, listen. Recently, thousands of people from coast to coast who bought Wild Root Cream Oil for the first time were asked, how does Wild Root Cream Oil compare with the hair tonic you previously used? Better than four out of five who replied, said they preferred Wild Root Cream Oil. And no wonder, Wild Root Cream Oil grooms the hair neatly and naturally, relieves annoying dryness and removes loose dandruff. What's more, non-alcoholic Wild Root Cream Oil is the only leading hair tonic that contains soothing lanolin. So ask for Wild Root Cream Oil Hair Tonic. Again and again, the choice of men who put good grooming first. By the way, smart girls use Wild Root Cream Oil too. And mothers say it's grand for trading children's hair. Now back to the Bluebeard Caper, tonight's adventure with Sam Spade. There was no use wasting any time trying to figure out how Sylvia had done whatever she had done to escape from that escape-proof room. There was nothing of interest in it, but a diving helmet, deep-sea type, and the current issue of billboard. There was a magazine which records the movements of show people. Under carnivals and tent shows, an item was circled. Colonel Carlisle's colossal Carnival and Tent Show, which was currently playing San Francisco out by the Cow Palace. That reminded me of the Colonel in the next room. I went in to hit him again, but somehow his not being there didn't surprise me a bit. What I found on the roof did surprise me a little. I lived with the circus-y aspect the Caper was beginning to take on. But I'd never have taken Sylvia for a stunt woman. I, uh, put a neat, uh, deep knee bend to get in the condition for what lay ahead, slid down the banister to the top floor, somersaulted into an elevator, and rode it down to the lobby, no hands. Pausing only to acknowledge the applause of the scrub woman, I skated on over to the phone booth. So his hands like the night in the harbor. Bernie, Sam Spade. Oh, say, I'm glad you called, Sam. That, uh, patient you brought in here at Ned Tower? Yeah, what about him? Well, your hunch was right. There was enough poison in him to kill him twice. And that ain't all. He dead? No. Then what's all? Well, his stomach had enough foreign objects in it to keep all the newspapers in town in Monday morning feature stories for the rest of the year. What type of foreign objects? Nothing valuable. Where'd you send him? Oh, he wasn't a hospital case, Sam. Enough poison to kill him twice. Glassware, spoons, hunting knives, and not a hospital case, huh? The poison, he's, uh, developed an immunity. The other stuff, uh, it's harmless. Harmless? Do you want me to send you the complete report? Uh, no, no. Forget it, Bernie. You've given me enough. Thanks. From then on, Dundee, it was, uh, mostly entertainment. I, uh, headed to the carnival grounds outside the town, and Colonel Carlisle's Carlossal Carnival, in Thenshaw, unfolded before my very eyes, just west of the Cow Palace. In the interest of artistic endeavor, Mademoiselle Mahalla, the favorite dancing girl of the Sultan of Zanzibar, brought direct from the perfume gardens of the Mysticorian every muscle of a gorgeous body. And now, now, ladies and gentlemen, in the interest of science and the furtherance of national defense, one of the medical miracles of the 20th century, a ladies and gentlemen, a man with the iron stomach, and the asbestos esophagus, Ralph Fessar de la Torre. Professor, if you please, sir, give the folks a sense of your control over the fiery elements. I will like the torch. And the truth of professor. And now, professor, if you will kindly... The coach dance left me cold, the fire-eating professor looked hot. It was none other than my client, a man who had called himself Ned Towers. I moved as close to the platform as I could without setting fire to myself and caught his eye. When he caught mine, it singed my eyelashes. Hey, Scrammo, I got my act to do. I can't talk to nobody. Where's the Colonel? There ain't any Colonel, just for the banner tack. Where's your sister? I ain't got no sister. Then who is Sylvia? I do me a favor, Shamus. Keep the 50 and forget the whole pitch. Now be it, huh? What's the show? Okay, you're paid for your ducking. Stare your eyes out if you want to. Okay, but you start squawking. They're drifting away. And, ladies and gentlemen, that was only a sample, only a sample. Why, he eats the stone and throws the beach away. And he uses powdered poison on his soft-boiled eggs. Now tell me, if you will, is there a doctor in the powder? I drifted on down the midway. There was Boona Boona, Nature Boy. Gilda and Hilda, the Siamese twins. There was Shorty, the Fat Man and Fatty, the Short Man. A bearded lady in several natural freaks of nature. At the very end, there was a big canvas enclosure. The act was called the Free Death Defying Darling. From the noise inside, I judged that to be an understatement. I bought a ticket and got inside just in time to see a trim, energetic blonde and tailored coveralls crawl out of the twisted wreckage of the car. She'd just driven point blank into a concrete wall at an advertised speed of 80 miles an hour. She took a bow, tripped lightly out of a ring and a brunette about the same size and shape but wearing a costume consisting mainly of three live rattlesnakes past her coming in. I swear she did. I also swear that she danced so well I didn't even notice the snakes after I got used to them. Before the lead snake had taken its final bow and wriggled out of sight, a redhead in green coveralls appeared at the top of a 60-foot tower. She climbed into a barrel and some stupid fool pushed her off. The tank she landed in was no more than three feet across and couldn't have had more than a foot of water in it. But she emerged from the stutters with her face wet and some of the greasy, carnival-type makeup washed off. The red-headed branch of the Death Defying Darling was, you guessed it, that miraculous escape artist, the one and only Sylvia. I was anxious to meet the rest of the acts, so I bolted over the canvas to their train of wrestling. It was a sinister buzzing sound at my ankles as I entered. I jumped out of the way just in time to miss getting bitten by one of the brunette's dancing partners, the Diamondback. Sylvia looked at me, cuddlingly, grabbed it expertly, just behind the head and shoved it down into its basket. You should have known better than to come in here on a now. Strangers make Salomi terribly nervous. Then we're even. How did you know I was here? I didn't. I was looking for my client. What are you working for, Ned? Who else? When I heard you bargaining with Jeff, I didn't know what to think. Before that, I'd been so sure. Look, sweetheart, I haven't been sure of anything in this caper from the start, at least of all you. No matter how sure I get, I still won't believe it. Look at me, Sam. Touch me. I'm only flesh and blood. Well, anyhow, how did you meet yourself coming on with the snakes when you went out in the coveralls? Oh, zippers. I was wearing the snakes underneath all the time. Doesn't the auto-crash make them nervous? Oh, no. They're used to it. Mother trains them. That was after father... Never mind your family. Let's talk about you. All three of you. Well, after mother and father... Well, the act was the threesome, you see, and they wouldn't keep me on as a single. Yeah. So Jeff Calhoun worked out a routine so only one of me would be on at one time. That figures. How often do you come out of it alive? You mustn't say things like that, even in joking. I'm terribly out of condition. I hadn't had a real workout since... you went over Niagara Falls and that beer keg. And by the way, how did you manage that? Simple. Relaxation. Secret of everything. I could teach you that, Sam, darling. Jeff could never learn it. How long do you think we'd get away with it, sweetheart? Aren't you taking rather a lot for granted? Maybe not enough. So far as I know, you've only been killed and resurrected three times. Darling, if it frightens you, I promise I'll never do it again. How did you drop 10,000 feet without a parachute? You know that Mount Hood stunt? I crash landed the plane, set fire to it. There were witnesses, something dropped. Nothing but a weighted flight suit. Whose body was that they found? There are always bodies in the snowmelt. By the time they get to them, they could be anybody. Well, that's a relief. What about that other body? Which other one, darling? When you were unbombed after the snake bite. Oh, well, Jeff just claimed somebody from the morgue that nobody else wanted. Don't be so critical, darling. We didn't hurt anybody. What happened after those insurance companies? Well, they should be happy. Jeff says it helps them with their taxes. Does it make you happy? Dying and being dug up every year or so? Well, it's better than doing it every night, but I couldn't go back to Jeff. He lost his nerve after Ned found out. You see, Ned's the only one left who knew me in the old days. If I were dead, he couldn't prove anything. Jeff really meant to kill me this time. What was Ned after? Blackmail? Oh, no, he wanted me back with a show. I had you to frighten Jeff into letting me go. After all, I am the best threesome in the business. Well, anyway, in the Sunfield. Did you see my review on Billboard? I saw for myself. You know something. I was thinking. With all you know about crime... Don't say it. Darling, it's so easy, and we could have a honeymoon every time I came back and we got married again. Thanks for the offer, but if I get married, I want my wife to stay alive every night. But I wouldn't really be dead. Only legally, for the insurance. Only legally, sir. Come here. Look, sweetheart, let's not relax. You're not safe. Not as long as that insurance policy is floating around with Jeff's name on it as beneficiary. He'd never think of looking for me here. Well, let's say you better take that policy in the town in the morning and make some changes. Where is it? Oh, it's in my safe. You got a safe here in this trailer? Well, it's just a secret place. I only call it a safe. I thought I'd find you here. But I hardly expected to see Mr. Spade. You don't surprise me a bit, Bluebeard. Hello, Jeff. Sit down. Stop waving that revolver. What do you want? That policy. I heard ever words you two have been saying. Not that that piece of paper means anything. You won't even be around when a bank's open. But having the original policy in my hand will save a lot of delay at red tape. Of course, Jeff. Where is it? Oh, what's the use? It's in the basket. Right by the side of your chair. Wait a minute. Don't move, Spade. If you do, I'll blast you. Listen to me. Don't raise that leg. So this is your safe. Still a child, aren't you, Sylvia? Don't do it, Calhoun! Don't do it! And that lieutenant there took the lid right off of the caper. Due to my Boy Scout training, my split-second timing and the fact that Salomi's Fang missed an artery by a 30th of an inch, I understand Calhoun will live long enough, which as far as I'm concerned, is any length of time you care to name. About Sylvia. I really don't know how to advise you there, but if you're planning on charging her with attempted homicide, you'll find that there are three Darling Sisters listed as U.S. citizens and residents of California. It might be hard to figure out which one of her to indict. Period. End of Nightmare Alley, Bluebeard Division. Any questions, F? Oh, just one, Sam. A grammatical error, but I'll correct it. And just whom do you think you are to be correcting my grammar? Who, Sam? Nominative case. Nominal. I believe, Sam. The most frequently used cases in English are nominative, accusative, and possessive. I'm referring to your sentence which reads, it might be hard to figure out which one of her to indict. Of course, you met them, since there are three Darling Sisters, her being singular. Indeed, her was singular, Effie. Oh, Sam, you made a joke. That's a very small one. Now I'll type that up and leave my grammar as is. It's colorful. Oh, very well, Sam. I'll just fix the syntax as I go along. I'll fix the syntax. In California? Say, are you looking for a hair tonic that will groom your hair neatly and naturally? Then you're looking for wild root cream oil. Want a hair tonic that relieves annoying dryness? Get wild root cream oil. Like a hair tonic that removes loose, ugly dandruff? The answer again is wild root cream oil. The famous hair tonic that gives you the big advantages men consider most important. Step up to your drug or toilet goods counter first chance you get and ask for wild root cream oil in the big economy bottle and the handy new tube that's easy to pack when you travel. Also, ask your barber for a professional application of wild root cream oil hair tonic. Again and again, the choice of men who put good grooming first. It was only one girl, so I looked it to her and made the correction back farther. Back where, Twinkle Toes? Twinkle Toes. You said three darling sisters. I changed it to one. That's impossible. It takes two to make a sister. That is not funny, Sam. Who's laughing? It's no laughing matter, Sam. After all that silver, the darling sister, whatever she... I don't care if she can go over Niagara Falls in a barrel. Let's get it right up, beer keggy. In fact, the only funny thing is you being taken in. After all, snake charmers of that type are a dime a dozen. Here's 20 cents, phone up that place. What place? Where you get the red headed snake charmers, 12 for 10 cents. Dime a dozen, Sam. It's a figment of speech. You can say that again, sweetheart. Tenny to be three people, all with different hair. Wearing snakes under a cover all. No laughing. No normal girl would do that, Sam. I don't know. Women do all kinds of work. Why can't I be an adventurous like some girls are? I wouldn't trade you for 30 cents worth of snake charmers. Oh, Sam. That's the nicest thing you ever said. Well, next to the nicest. Good night, Sam. Good night, Salome. The Adventures of Sam Spade, Dashel Hammett's famous private detective, are produced and directed by William Spear. Sam Spade is played by Howard Dove. Lerene Tuttle is Effie. The Adventures of Sam Spade are written for radio by Bob Tolman and Gil Dowd, with musical direction by Lud Gluskin. Join us again next Sunday when author Dashel Hammett and producer William Spear join forces for another adventure with Sam Spade. Brought to you by Wild Root Cream Oil. And again, the choice of men who put good grooming first. This is Dick Joy reminding you to... Get Wild Root Cream Oil Charlie. It keeps your hair in trim. You see, it's non-alcoholic Charlie. It's made with sooth and lanolin. You better get Wild Root Cream Oil Charlie. Start using it today. You'll find that you will have a tough time, Charlie. Keeping all the gals away. Hiya, Baldi. Get Wild Root right away. This is CVS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.