 Pet Milk Show, usually heard at this time, has moved to a new time period on Sunday nights. Be sure to hear Larry Douglas and Kay Arman on the new Pet Milk Show tomorrow night on NBC. And now, here's another in NBC's great parade of new shows. The story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. NBC brings you dragnet. You're a detective sergeant. You're assigned to a homicide detail. A man's wife has suddenly dropped from sight. On the surface, it appears only as a routine missing persons case. You start to investigate. Suspicion grows. There is evidence of possible foul play. Your job? Find the woman or find her murderer. Dragnet, the documented trauma of an actual crime, investigated and solved by the men who unrelentingly stand watch on the security of your home, your family, and your life. For the next 30 minutes, in cooperation with the Los Angeles Police Department, you will travel step-by-step on the side of the law through an actual case transcribed from official police files. From beginning to end, from crime to punishment, dragnet is the story of your police force in action. It was Wednesday, September 15th. It was warm in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch out of homicide. My partner's Ben Romero. The boss is Ed Backstrand, Chief of Detectives. My name's Friday. I was on the way back from lunch and it was 1256 when I got to room 42, homicide. Hi, Ben, Hal. I hear you got something for us. Here's a report right here. A gardener by the name of Eric Kelby called in the day before yesterday. Said his wife disappeared from their home out in the valley Sunday night. Says he thinks she left him. That happens every day, Bargetty. Not this way, it doesn't. Walt and I went out yesterday to interview the guy. The story doesn't add. Why not? None of her clothes are missing. None of her luggage. She even left her pocketbook behind, full of money. Found out from the neighbors, a missing woman is a 17-year-old boy by a form of marriage. So what? An only child. Mother Dote's on the kid. Shouldn't even say goodbye to him. How did this sary Kelby impress you? Pretty grouchy with Walsh and me. No cooperation. Wants to find his wife, doesn't he? I don't know if he does or not. There's no help, I'll tell you that. Can I see that report I'm in now? Oh, yeah. Agnes Trumbull Kelby, age 39. Kelby's a second husband. The first one died a little after the boy was born. Disappeared Sunday night from her home. 546 Blasco Road, between 7 and 8 o'clock. What did Kelby call him? Monday afternoon. Said he thought his wife might be spending the night with her sister. When he found out she wasn't, he called us. Did you meet the boy while you were out there bargaining? Yeah, that's another thing. Kid came riding in on a bike while we were talking to one of the neighbors. Trying to talk to him, but the old man came out hustling inside the house. Then he starts eating us out. What'd he say? Told us it was our job to find his wife, not to go prying into a stepson's affairs. What's a new slant? I bought her friends and relatives run here, Al. Any besides your sister and sister? Walsh located a couple of ranch. Don't think he's checked me at them. I'll tell you, boys, this is one I'll bet on. Maybe. You got the names of Mrs. Kelby's relatives? Oh, yeah, right over here. I wish we had a chance to talk to that boy. Yeah. How's it feel to you, Ben? I don't know. Notice anything else funny about the guy, huh? I don't know. Here's those names, Joe. Thanks. Kelby was upset, all right. For some reason, he didn't strike me as a react in the way a normal guy reacts when his wife disappears. All right, Al. How would you react? I'll get his worrying again. Now, listen, boys, it's no fooling matter. This is one I'll bet on. It's a homicide. All right. How about a copy of this report? Yeah. Where'll I get the phone? Missing person's spaghetti. Who's that? Oh. Uh, yes. Yes. About why? Oh, sure. All right, son. Four o'clock. Yeah. Goodbye. That was Kelby's stepson. What did he want? Think something's happened to his mother? In police work, missing person's detail is not a department separate in itself. It is organized as a part of the homicide bureau. According to Barghetti, who took the call, the boy said he suspected his stepfather and he didn't want him to know of any meeting between him and police officers. He would meet the officers that afternoon at 4 p.m. in a restaurant on the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Fairfax Avenue. At 315, Ben and I left the office and drove out to the meeting place. The Dairyland Fountain and Coffee Shop. We arrived there at 345. At eight minutes to five, the Kelby boys still had not arrived. Youngster's not very prom. Well, let's wait a little while longer. Yeah. Smoke? Yeah, thanks. Want some more coffee? No, thanks. I guess the boy isn't gonna show. Think something's happened? 15 minutes after we left the coffee shop, we drove up in front of the gate on Balasco Road. The house itself was set well back on the property which covered about four acres. The entire nursery was surrounded by a six-foot steel wire fence and it looked like almost every available foot of ground inside was planted with some kind of a flower or shrub. Kelby met us at the gate. Yes, what do you men want? Police officers, are you Mr. Kelby? Yes, what do you want? Well, if you'll shut those dogs up for a minute, we'd like to ask you a few questions. I'm busy now. Can't you come back tomorrow? It's pretty important, Mr. Kelby. We have to... Red! Giant! Down! You two hide me. Quiet! All right, now what do you want? Mind if we come inside? These watchdogs of mine are pretty vicious. We can talk here at the gate. All right, Mr. Kelby. This is Sergeant Romero. My name's Friday. We've been assigned to look into your wife's disappearance. Did you find anything yet? Nothing definite. Maybe you can help us. Would you tell us exactly what happened the night your wife disappeared? What do you mean, what happened? Well, when did you last see her? I first noticed she was gone. You finished up Sunday night dinner about 7 o'clock, and I laid down for a nap. Agnes went out on the front porch for some air. I woke up a little before 8 and went outside to look for her. She was gone. Nobody saw her leave, Mr. Kelby? Not that I know of. Maybe some of our nosy neighbors I don't know. How about your stepson? Wasn't he around Sunday night? Bruce? No, went out to a show with some other kids. When did he get back from the show? About 10, I think. Why? Where's your stepson now? Who are you looking for? My wife or my stepson? Both, Mr. Kelby. Where's your stepson? Gone. I took him over to my sister's in Alhambra. Then, feeling bad since his mother disappeared, figured the change would do him good. When did you take him over to your sister's, Kelby? This afternoon. What's that got to do with it? We'd like to talk to Bruce. No, no, I can't allow it. The boy's too upset. I can't allow it. I'm afraid you're going to have to allow it. Listen, mister, you can get off this property right now. No cops giving me sass. Nobody's giving you sass, Kelby. We want to talk to your stepson, that's all. He might give us a clue as to the whereabouts of your wife. And I say you can't see the boy. Once more, you cops couldn't find thorns in a rose patch. I'll get somebody else to look for Agnes. It's my business anyway, nobody else's. It's our business too, if anything's happened to her. What are you talking about? You better get your coat, Mr. Kelby. We're taking in for questioning. You come through that gate and I'm going to let these dogs go, accidentally. I'd hate to shoot the dogs. I'll go on the house and get your coat. Eric Kelby turned and made his way up the path and into the house. Five minutes later, he came out. Without a word to either of us, he came down the path, closed the gate behind him and got into our car. On the way back to headquarters, he chatted pleasantly about the weather, the nursery business and his dogs. When we pulled up in front of the city hall, we met the reason for his sudden change in temperament. His lawyer was waiting for us at the door. We took Kelby to one of the interrogation rooms. His lawyer tagged along. We tried to question him, but the lawyer objected to two out of every three questions we asked. It was hopeless. We knew it, so did the lawyer. We released Kelby, but we did get the name and address of his sister where the stepson Bruce was staying. After they left, Ben and I got back in the car and drove out to Alhambra to check on the boy. Well, get ahead of this and peg right, Joe. It's real sleeper. Yeah, I'd like to know how the stepson missed that date with us this afternoon. Well, if the kid called us from the house, his stepfather could have overheard him. It's possible. Sister's house ought to be along this block, shouldn't it? Yeah, let's see. 14.08, 14.06. All right, he's a great car. He's 14.02. Right. That's a nice looking little place, isn't it? Well kept. Yeah, it's a nice neighborhood. I wonder how the lock prices run out here. Yes, what is it? Police officers, ma'am. Are you Miss Kelby? Perfect, Kelby. Yes, that's my name. Why? We talked to your brother earlier today, Miss Kelby. He said that you brought his stepson Bruce here to stay for a while. We'd like to see him. Bruce? Yes, he was here until about an hour and a half ago. I went to the store and when I came back, he was gone. Have you any idea where he might be, Miss Kelby? Well, I telephoned my brother Eric's place just before you came to the door. He's not there. I don't know where he might be. I'm worried about him. He seems so upset. This business about his mother's disappearance, you know. Would you mind if we came in and looked around, Miss Kelby? Well, no. Not at all. We went in and looked the house over from one end to the other. It wasn't a trace of the boy. We drove back to Kelby's nursery and satisfied ourselves the boy wasn't there. Then we came back to Alhambra and we kept an eye on Miss Bertha Kelby's home until midnight. No one came or went. At five minutes past midnight, the lights went off in the living room and a few minutes later, in the back of the house. The next morning, when Ben and I checked in for work as usual at eight o'clock, we met with Captain Ahamaside, Frank Kearney. What makes you two so positive there has been any foul play in this Kelby thing? Well, it's just it, Cap. We're not positive. It's a whole set up. It smells bad. For instance, that lawyer. For man's innocence, he doesn't need a lawyer to sit with him in the interrogation room and tell him not to answer questions. Number two, that kid's telephone call. Maybe he doesn't get along with his stepfather. It happens, you know. Maybe he's trying to get back at him for something or other. Maybe. Then why is Kelby hiding him out? You sure he's hiding him out? No other way to take it, Cap. The Kelby woman walked away from her home Sunday night. She took nothing with her. No clothes, no luggage, no money. You checked with the family doctor? Yesterday. He told us Mrs. Kelby was in perfect health. We double-checked the wanderer's file and the repeater's file and missing persons. Couldn't find her name in either one. How about her relatives in town? I haven't had a chance to talk to them yet, Cap. We'll check them this morning. Well, one thing's certain. The woman couldn't have gone very far. We checked the sheriff's office, the jails, the hospitals. Sent out a teletype and an APB. Every cop in the city has her description. She's been gone almost four days, but nobody's seen her. How does that add up to you? It doesn't. You better move on it. Check everyone of Mrs. Kelby's friends and relatives. Right, Frank. Then try the neighbors. As long as I've been a cop, neighbors have been able to tell everything about anyone. All that day, Ben and I made the rounds. First stop was the Western National Bank, where Mrs. Kelby maintained her account. Her saving statement showed a total balance of $31,564.17. Her separate checking account had a balance of $842.71. At the farmer's mutual, we found the record of an insurance policy issued to Agnes Trumbull Kelby. It was a 20-pay life policy covering the insured in the amount of $30,000. The beneficiary was listed as the insured son, Bruce Trumbull Kelby, if living upon the receipt of sex due proof. If not, the insured's husband, Eric J. Kelby. By the time we finished checking your financial status, the odds were piling up fast. From only casual reports, we knew that Eric Kelby was a frugal man. If he was greedy as well, if he wanted or needed money badly enough to kill, then he had all the motives necessary to murder his wife. Maybe a stepson, too. Ben and I started to make the rounds of Mrs. Kelby's friends and relatives. Our first stop was at the apartment of Agnes Kelby's sister, a talkative maiden lady in her early 60s. Agnes just isn't that kind. Oh, I'm worried sick about this. I really am. And Bruce, the poor lad, he must be hot sick. And Eric, what does Eric say about all this? He says he thinks his wife left him. Left him? Why, that's ridiculous. How strange. Can you think of any good reason why your sister would leave Mr. Kelby? I know. They had tiffs, of course, small ones. But, of course, there was that argument about Bruce. The two of them always seemed to be arguing about Bruce. How do you mean, ma'am? Oh, well, raising the boy and all, you know. That's how I talked to them. They were tipping about whether or not Bruce should be paid for working in the nursery for Eric. And the strangest thing Eric seemed to be so upset about at all. Imagine. All in the count of paying the boy a few dollars for good, honest work in that silly nursery. Well, you know, I'm the outspoken kind, and I just told Eric. Eric, I said, don't be an old meanie. Pay the boy. That was the extent of the information which Mrs. Kelby's sister had to offer. Next, we call on an aunt, Mrs. James D. Trumbull, 83 years old. She could hardly understand our questions, let alone answer them. She hadn't seen her niece Agnes in a year. After that, we pay to visit to one of Mrs. Kelby's friends, a Mrs. Lillian Humboldt. Well, I'm sorry, Sergeant, but I can't think of any good reason why she would leave him. Unless that silly business about Bruce got out of hand. You know, maybe Eric is just a little generous of the boy. Next, we call on Daisy McLeod, who is a daymaid for Mrs. Kelby. Officer, what Mr. and Mrs. Kelby thought, what they said, what they did, it's none of my business. I come in the morning, I do my work, I do it well. I'm not the nosy type, and I don't pry. I take half an hour for lunch, and when I'm through, I take my pay, and I don't expect tips, and I take the bus home. I'm not the picking through the keyhole kind sneaking around corners listening. But what I couldn't tell you about that, man. Exactly what do you mean, Mrs. McLeod? Oh, he's a hard man, you know. They're always arguing about the boy. Bruce this, Bruce that. He's a nice boy, I think. He's never done anything to me. Oh, what the arguments. Him and her all the time. Should the boy be paid for working, he shouldn't. Why? Why not? When Ben and I finished with a list of Mrs. Kelby's friends, relatives, and employees, we started out on the neighbors. None of them saw Mrs. Kelby after 6 p.m. the night she disappeared. Two of the neighbors said they saw the porch light burning after 7 p.m., but both said the porch was empty. Mrs. Kelby was not sitting in her chair at the usual time after dinner, according to them, that was one of her habits. It was 10 minutes to 6 p.m. Ben and I got back to the office. The light was still burning in Captain Kearney's office. Full day, Joe. A lot of money, yeah. I wonder what the captain's hanging around for. Let's find out. Get anything? Pretty good luck, yeah. Good. I've got some more for you. Just walked in 5 minutes ago. What do you mean, Frank? Who walked in? Bruce Kelby. He's waiting in the next room. We went in the next room and met Bruce Kelby. He was small for a 17-year-old, dark-haired, and a little on the sickly side. He told us that he couldn't keep the date he made with us on the phone because his stepfather apparently did overhear the conversation and drove him directly to his sister's home in Alhambra. We asked him why he was so sure that his stepfather was responsible for his mother's sudden disappearance. We usually go to the early show on Sunday night. Eric, Mom, and me. But last Sunday, Eric said he wasn't feeling good and he wanted Mom to stay home and take care of him. Then he told me to go on ahead to the show, so I did. What time did you get home, son? About 9.30, quarter to 10. What was your stepfather doing when you got home? Sitting in the living room, reading the paper. Do you notice anything unusual about the way he acted? He was nervous and jumpy. More than usual, I think. Anything else? Yes, sir. When I came in through the front yard, I noticed the dogs had mud all over their paws. They'd been out somewhere in the nursery plots and they won't go out in the plots unless Eric's with them. He doesn't want them to trample the seedlings. What would your stepfather be doing out in the nursery at night? Does he usually do some work at night? No, sir. None of the plots are even lighted. Only the greenhouses. And the paths in the greenhouses are usually graveled, aren't they? No mud around. It's my job to see that the greenhouse paths are kept graveled. I know they're not muddy. It's a day before, a Saturday. What do you think it means, son? What? I don't know. I don't want to think about it. I just know he's done something. He's done something to her. Did your stepfather give you any reason for keeping you away from the police officers other day? No, sir. He said people were getting nosy and he said it might be better for me over at Aunt Bertha's. She's his sister. Do you think your Aunt Bertha might know where your mother is? No, we hardly ever see her. We don't know her well at all. We've heard your mother and your stepfather argued about whether you should be paid for your work in the nursery. When I started to work for him, he promised he'd pay me. I was saving up to buy a 31 Model A. And then after a couple of months, when he didn't pay me, I asked him. He told me I ought to be glad to work for him for nothing. And your mother argued with him over that? Sure. It was her money that bought the nursery, anyway. How'd you get away from your aunt's place last night? Bertha had some shopping to do and she left me alone. She locked the door to my room. Even the screen over the window in my room was nailed down but I kicked it out and got away. I stayed at a friend's house last night. You thought about where you were going to stay tonight? I don't know. But I'm not going home. And I'm not going back to Bertha's place either. I'll get a room. How'd you like to stay at my house a few days? Sure, nice of you, sir. Maybe I'd better not. Mom might not like it. Oh, I'll take care of that. Now let's hop out and get some dinner. Sure, darn nice of you, sir. All right, son. Come with me. What do you think, Joe? He could be lying. Yeah. Now what, Cap? Shall we bring Kelby in again? No, not yet. He's found out by now from his sister that the boy's gone. He probably figures the police station is the first place he'd come. Wouldn't do much good pulling him in now, Ben. We couldn't even question him. Tend to want his lawyer to be waiting for us when we got back. That's the problem. How do we get to this Kelby without his lawyer finding out? Well, what about the early morning, Cap? Say tomorrow, about 5 or 6 a.m. Think you'd be looking for us then? Yeah, that might do it. We can just get by that pack of hounds he owns without waking the whole neighborhood. Might work. If we could just question him alone, I'd got an idea it wouldn't take much to make him cop out. All right, give it a try. Get out there in the early morning and bring him in for questioning as quietly as possible. I'll be in at 6 a.m. Let me before then call me at home. All right, Frank. Kelby's got a smart lawyer. It's going to be plenty hard to convict him without a body and corroborating evidence. He's got four acres out there, Cap. He can hide a lot of bodies in four acres. Well, that's what I mean. This case isn't ending. It's just beginning. The next morning, Ben and I met at the office about a few minutes past 4 a.m. We had a cup of coffee and a donut at an all-night restaurant, and then we started for the Kelby place out on Balasco Road. We took four pounds of fresh horse meat with us to keep the dogs quiet if they raised a fuss. It was 28 minutes past 4 when Ben pulled the car to a stop a few hundred feet from the gate to the Kelby nursery. We got out of the car and made our way down the road to the gate. I reached in and tried the latch. It was padlocked. The dog started in. Okay, Ben, looks like we'll have to jump the fence. Toss some of that horse meat over to him. Yeah, yeah, here. That's it. Come on, let's climb it. Keep an eye on those hounds. Looks like they could chew your leg off. Here comes a third one, Ben. Toss some more meat. Yeah, there you are, boy. Go get it, go get it, boy. Look, Ben, light's going on in the house. Come on, let's make it fast. Who is it? Who's there? I'll set the dogs on you. Police officers, Mr. Kelby. What? What are you doing out here this time of night? You're under arrest, Kelby. Get your coat. You cops are asking for a peck of trouble. Get your coat. Where's my stepson? What have you done with him? What have you done with your wife? You're going to pay for this. I'll have your jobs. That's not the first time we've heard that, Kelby. Let's go. Lights burning in the captain's office. Yeah, all right, Kelby, in here. I'll pay for this. Mark my words. Ben, take him in the office here and stay with him. I'll see if Frank's in yet. Right, Joe. Come on, Kelby, inside. Friday? Do you bring in Kelby? He's down in the interrogation room. Ben's with him. Somebody saw you. Don't think so. They must have. Kelby's lawyer's sitting in the next room. Kelby again refused to answer any questions without the advice of his attorney. We released him. That day, Captain Kearney sent out two men to keep an eye on the nursery and report on all of Kelby's movements. Shortly after seven o'clock that night, just after nightfall, we tried once again to bring in Kelby for questioning without his lawyer's knowledge. It didn't work. A little after we booked him, his lawyer obtained a writ of habeas corpus. We had to release him again. The two men assigned to stake out the Kelby place reported definitely that somebody was tipping the lawyer whenever unknown visitors showed up at the nursery and drove off with Kelby. There was nothing we could do about it. The next morning, Kearney came up with a lead. I had a long talk with the boy last night. Accidentally, I think he's given us a pretty good lead. Yeah? There's only one way we'll ever get a conviction. That's by finding the body and evidence to tie Kelby in. Yeah, that'll do it. Where do we start looking? In a new rose bed next to one of the greenhouses in Kelby's nursery. Hmm? The kid came up with it last night. I'll come. It's easy about saving a dollar and making one. Yeah. In the nursery trade, especially where you have a limited area to work in, like Kelby, you cultivate every foot of ground. Every bit of soil you've got is planted with something. Kelby's not the type to waste anything. Especially he's not the kind that would let ground life follow when he could plant something that might bring in a few dollars next season. Bruce tells me his stepfather has every inch of those four acres planted. Every inch. Except a six by nine foot plot of ground in that rose garden. Well, it sounds like a long shot to me, Frank. The boy said he prepared that piece of ground for planting late Saturday afternoon. His stepfather wanted it ready for Sunday morning. The plot of ground's still vacant. Might have planted it yesterday, Cap. When's the last time you checked? Hmm, before I came to work this morning. I called the men on stake out next to the nursery. They told me the plot's still empty. It's worth a chance, Frank. When do we look it over? Tonight. I don't want Kelby or his lawyer to know a thing about our body. Well, how are we going to work it? We'll order up a crew from the crime lab. They can take probings through that plot and all around it. They can tell us without any guesswork how deep that ground's been worked over lately. When do you want to start? Be here in the office at 8.30 tonight. If my hunches are any good, we'll find a body. It was ten minutes past nine that night when we got to the Kelby place. Lieutenant Lee Jones and his assistants, the men on stake out told us that Kelby had left about 20 minutes before in a dark blue coop. Ben brought along the usual supply of horse meat for the dogs so we didn't have any trouble there. We found the empty plot of ground in the rose bed next to the greenhouse exactly as Bruce described it to Kearney. Ground's been worked over all right, boys. At least four to five feet down. All right, Lee, let's start digging. Romero, take care of the dogs. Watson, grab one of these shovels. Right, Captain. Hey, Kelby said these dogs were vicious, didn't he? Yeah, why? Look at these hounds. They're no more vicious than a lively, cold look. Higgins, get that light over here, will you? Thanks. What is it, Lee? Let me see. Teeth. A set of false teeth. Been in the ground long? Don't think so. Judging from the shape they're in. How far down would you say you're, Lee? A couple feet. The ground's real soft. Lee, come here a minute. What is it? The body. Here's the shoulder. All right, you men over here with Watson, get the dirt off the face. Romero, you got a picture of the Kelby woman? Yeah, I'll cap it. Let's see. I'll get it. Thanks. Get the light down here. Aren't you paid off, Frank? That's her. Ben and I went back to the car and notified communications to broadcast a want for murder on Eric Kelby. His description, together with the description of the car and license number of the car he was driving, was rebroadcast every 15 minutes. Then we went back to check the house. We found the front door unlocked. We went inside and looked around. Then we found clothes scattered over the bed and the floor. There was only one old soup remaining in the closet. On the table next to the bed, we found an airline's timetable. We got to the phone and notified communications to alert all police details at railroad stations, bus terminals, and airlines, and then to send out an APB on the telethype. After that, we checked with the airlines. One of them told us that a man answering Kelby's description had booked passage for Mexico City. The plane was scheduled to take off at 1040 that night from Burbank Airport. The plane's watch said four minutes past 10. We called the detail at the airport and alerted them. Then we drove over to check in person. It was 10.35 p.m. when Ben and I took up our positions just inside Gate 3, where passengers were boarding Flight 72 from Mexico City. He's cutting it close, Joe. Got about four minutes more to make that plane. We waited. The crowd got thicker as departure time came closer. At 10.39, Eric Kelby came through the main entrance across the terminal, through Gate 3, I don't understand. What does this mean? We found your wife's body, Kelby. What? I don't know what you're talking about. In the rose patch next to the greenhouse. Your lawyer can't help this time. Mexico City would have been a nice trip. Expensive. I'll plead insanity. I didn't know what I was doing. Be a nice vacation next year, Joe, Mexico City. I'm gonna talk to my wife about it. I didn't mean it. She slapped me. We were arguing about the boy. I didn't mean it. I don't know if you did or not, Kelby, but you killed her. Come on. You missed your plane. The story you have just heard is true. Only the names were changed to protect the innocent. Eric Kelby was tried and convicted of murder in the first degree. He is now awaiting execution in the lethal gas chamber at the State Penitentiary. You have just heard the 14th in a new series of authentic cases transcribed from official files. Technical Advice for Dragnet comes from the office of W.A. Wharton, acting chief of police, Los Angeles Police Department. Tonight's program is dedicated to William J. Weston Jr. of the Washington D.C. Police Department, who on the evening of March 4th, 1945, gave his life so that yours might be more secure. Dragnet came to you from Los Angeles. If you enjoy tonight's production of Dragnet, you'll want to listen to Richard Diamond, private detective, as played by the screen's romantic tough guy, Dick Powell. A pet milk show, usually heard at this time, has moved to a new time period on Sunday nights. Be sure to hear Larry Douglas, the director of Dragnet, the director of Dragnet, the director of Dragnet, the director of Dragnet, be sure to hear Larry Douglas and Kay Arman on the new pet milk show tomorrow night on NBC. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.