 This is my beat from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomeest mile in the world. This is my beat with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. The night that begins to curtain Broadway in late November is a thing of gauze, grey stuff that touches autumn to December, and the moon pocks the shadows with a frosty light. It's time of the three coffee dinner, of the sweater and the vest under the coat. But the plucked birds hang high, and there, stalks of corn and wheat, and in shop windows a tableau of settlers and friendly redskins biting dusty pumpkins. Holiday time, everywhere, everybody will be eating turkey, it says. And uptown, far uptown where I was, only night wind and the near pattern of campus lights in back of the student union building, and Detective Muggerman and the woman dead. The night watchman was making his rounds, caught her in his flash, phoned it in. Identification? Yeah, handbag. Here. Grace Cullen, 19. This is it, sir. Yeah, thank you very much. 1903, West 160. That check with your observations, Muggerman? Okay, okay. Shot from up close. She looks a little oldish, huh? Oldish, or what? Well, college campus, nighttime. Still kind of pretty. About 37 to 40, I'd say. Well. Yeah. You stick around for technical, Muggerman. See you later. Police, open up. The length of the latch chain in the tip of my nose through the slit. As far as I get with late dates. Sure you're a policeman. Yeah, see. You're dealing with a sleepy child, and I'd better turn the porch light on, so I'll know it's not just a recurrent dream. True badge. And you've wakened me, and you've proven your point. What next, policeman? It's about Mrs. Grace Cullen, she... Normally, other nights, Grace would have opened the door to you. But as Grace is not at home, and she's heaven knows where... She's dead. Murdered. That did it. I'm awake now, you can come in. I'll turn the lights on in the parlor. Where Grace and I receive our dates. You're going to come in and tell me about it, or are you just going to stand there in the hall? You're related to Mrs. Cullen? Oh, that's it. I thought I was her daughter or something like that now. No tie of blood between Grace and me. Then... Grace ran an ad in the college paper. Room and board for girl student in return for light housekeeping. Look how nice I keep it. You can try for dust anywhere you choose. Maureen Hill, sophomore in light housekeeping. Now, what's this about Grace? They found her on the campus a little while ago. Grace is a widow. Oh? She's 41. A widow, 12 years. She told me she was 37. I scouted around. I found out she was 41. Look... Any way you look at it, she's a widow. I know, you told me. And there was a rapport between her and football players. She understood their sorrows and problems. Observe the footballs lining the mantel. Shall I have a date with one of them tonight? The boy was here earlier tonight. Left in, type boy. His eyes were glazy and his manner was hazy. Big game today and we lost and the boy was drunk and came caught. Who was the boy? Left in, wait 197, 6-3. I got a swift dream on the playing field and in the headlines his name was Lloyd Keeler. He was here for a while and he went away. And after that? After that I wouldn't know. I said good night to Grace. They curled up in my downy. Reminds me it's where I should be now. Nighty night policemen. So leave there. And outside the streets have given up to midnight. Stone facades against darkness. Older doors. And only here and there the pencil line of light beneath drawn shades. Section of city asleep. Properly, respectively. So home now. Not your own. Two key type. One key for the front door. The other for the rented room and bath and kitchenette. And sleep. The rented sleep. And morning. New days. So get ready for it. Then call headquarters and give your route for the day. Right up town. The college. Inquire at the registrar. Get the name and address of the fraternity house of Lloyd Keeler. Go there. The boy who answers the door for you is disappointed you're not an old grad or something. Thus leaving empty his handshake of curled little finger and vertical thumb. But his answers are bright and quick. Lloyd Keeler is not there. Wasn't in last night. I've seen him. Don't know where he is. Tried the gym he offers. Coach. Red price. Old red I don't know. Any time at all he leaves you with, fella. So across the campus. The sad sunny paths of branch shadows and young people. And into the coach's office. And old red looks just like his pictures in the paper. Except no hair. Have a seat. Thanks. No thanks. You know I think the Cougars are too deep down the center of the line for us. The rains were dead. What with our stallow tail backpribic temporarily on the sideline with a fracture. I'm a policeman. Not a reporter. Oh. Trying to locate Lloyd Keeler. He'd do something with a bucket of red paint in town. For questioning about murder. Where do I find him? Murder. Well I wouldn't know of hand where the lad is. Right as a three. Maybe then. Tell me something about him. Caught two TD passes last week. What else about Lloyd? Shifty and the clear. One ninety seven and shifty. Word of scampers. Good day for the college when he entered our ranks. Scholarship. Sponsored. Which means what? Being paid for. Remember Don Davy? Nope. Don Davy. Brick house done. Also an end. Played here in 32. Blocked Texfield all try for the league championship. Smothered it. You remember. Sure you do. Don Davy huh? Local. Sure. Park Avenue. Look him up. Hey uh. Bet the phone. No thanks. Thanks a lot. It's a brutish thing. Rather a mess isn't it? At least that's how I feel about it. That woman. Woman of middle age. Found like that on a college campus. And a boy of twenty. Sorted. Not pretty. That's how it happens Mrs. Davy. Doesn't it though? One thing I'll never understand. Fun. I've read of such things in newspapers. I uh. I buy sordid little paperback books. Read myself to sleep with such things. But I never thought of walking to my home. And breathe so close. That boy mixed up in it. Lloyd Keeler. I was told your husband is sending him through college. Is that our guilt Mr. Clover? That we were nice to an athlete? Where is your husband? In his study. It's where he retreats after lunch. Charts. Football plays. I hardly think it worth while disturbing him. I do. Disturb him Mrs. Davy. And then you'll be nice and go away. And we can write this thing off. Get him. Don. Donnie. How many times does it take to get through? Don't scold dear. I have a terrific reason. There's a policeman in our home. I can't do that dear. Because he's brought us a murder. Coming dear. My husband Mr. Clover. And he's irritated and angry. Because you've intruded on what play this time dear. 54. Play 54. Claire said murder. You must have read about it. She was found on the campus of your college. The woman was Mrs. Grace Cullen. 20 years ago when I was big on the college team I knew of Grace Cullen. Don't tell me this is the same one. I'll get sad. Real sad how the year stands still. Maybe she's the same one. But this year she's been going up with a boy named Lloyd Keeler. Years sure stands still, don't they fella? Do you know where Lloyd is? Well, Don had him pledged to Don's paternity. Why don't you try there, Mr. Clover? He's not there. Do you have any other ideas? Oh, we do a sponsor him. That doesn't make Claire his mother. Doesn't make me his father. Then you don't know, is that it? When I was a lad I sometimes broke training and nobody could ever find me either. Sometimes for days. That's the way it was fella, sorry. And leave there on the four o'clock lunch. Blue plate special of pre-holiday drumstick and paper cup of coleslaw, smaller one of cranberries and coffee that looks yellow under the overhead light. Ride through afternoon streets festooned with flat mufflers and red mittens. Turn left where the Doberman in a hip-length knitted overcoat breathes steam up with a maiden in coat to match. Crowd dwindles. Then a right turn. Headquarters. Down the corridor lined with bulletin boards and tips on courtesy. Don't quite make your office. Hey, Danny. I tried to get in touch with Mr. Davies. You just left. What's the matter? Where you been? I got hungry, Muggerman. I ate, you mind? Well, just listen, will you? Sure, what's the... That kid, that end on the college football team Lloyd Keeler. What about him? In the morgue. What? Found him in an alley, shot to death. Murdered, Danny. You're lucky you had time to eat. I haven't. You are listening to Broadway's My Beat written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Early afternoon and late November touches Broadway's cheeks softly now. Whispers the traceries of winter. One chrome will be veiled with frost. Also windows. Also the lips of women. And the autumn memories barren, leafless, stripped. But there are minutes left in the autumn twilight, so breathe them deep, walk them slow. They're still time before neon and the long night. They're sunset, the flame of autumn color and the concrete slabs. There's the twilight passage of the twilight women. And fury is not yet. Only this. The dying of November. And at headquarters, the awe and the wonder of the man, Sergeant Geno Tortaglia. Danny, you haven't been listening. I'm sorry, Geno. I was just... No, gathering is the phrase that comes willy-milly to my mind. I'm sorry. What were you saying? I was merely relating to you the far-flung exploits of one Mike who just happens, just happens to be the miracle detective from Pittsburgh, PA, when your attention walked out on me. That's right. The last time you told me about him, he lived in Philadelphia. Cleaned up, Willie. Now graces the avenues and citadels of Pittsburgh, PA. And a good thing, too. No. It was in the smog there that he fell upon plastic memory. Huh? What was that, Geno? I'll explain to you. The weapon that did in Daphne fenced the backstage of Carnegie Hall, which was found lying beside her was thought at first to be merely a bloody shoehorn. Geno. After dusting the fingerprints on the murder weapon, Mike, with his customary genius, plunged the shoehorn into a pot of boiling water which never leaves his side. He did what? And in a few minutes there clutched in his blistered fist instead of a shoehorn, a plastic dagger. Plastic memory, Danny. I'll explain to you. It is the custom of plastic to return to its original shape. You threw a genome? Well, I wished only to clarify for you. Yeah, I'm through, Danny. And that's all you have for me, huh? No, I have other items. You'll tell me, huh? Goes without saying. From the medical examiner, Dr. Sinske, this report which states that Lloyd Keeler, late of college football, was shot and wounded fatally perhaps an hour after the death of Mrs. Gray's cousin. I place it on your desk. That other paper in your hand, you know. A PS to the report from detective Muggevin stating that the murdered boy was found in the alley back of the home of the college with old Mrs. Gray's colleague. I place it on your desk. And these elderly college girls, Danny. All right, you know, you can go now. If such is your pleasure, Lieutenant. You must admit one thing, though, Danny. What? That in the case of Daphne Fenster, Mike Shrek merits an orchid. Good evening, Danny. So consider now the elements. Set them down on paper. Neat. Crisscross lines from names to events. Switch the swivel chair. Look out the window. Attitude for thinking. But somehow the swift curve of newspaper page, wind trap blowing down the street, intrudes. And the race between pedestrian and taxi, and the winner's gesture. And the first dart of light through beginning evening's dark. Believe it. Turn back to the desk. Items to be thought about. A woman murdered. Woman, friend of the college for 20 years. I place it on your desk. I place it on your desk. I place it on your desk. I place it on your desk. I place it on your desk. I place it on your desk. I elderlyly was builds at the college for 20 years. The football player murdered in back of her house. Football player, a boys whose talents were subsidized by an old grad. Old grad, erstwell hero. Old grad, man who should be talked to some more. Squadcar again, and right through evening streets. Park Avenue. Park the car. You remember me, don't you? Mr. David? I remember you. What is it? More questions. Your wife, too. She's not in. She's being fed. I'm happy for her. Now, you want to talk inside your place or inside mine? Fella, Fella, come in. Come in by all means. Thanks. Never. In here, my Dan. Please have a seat. Well, thanks. I'd rather... Hmm, a lot of trophies. Yeah, yeah, quite a few. Were you an All-Americans, Mr. Baby? Don. Who were you, Don? One sports editor in Baltimore, two more in the Middle West named me. Mostly second-staying All-Americans. See, you've got your old jersey. Yeah. Now, I'm wearing this watch. You could... Here. I'll take it off. No, no, no, no, no. No trouble. Look at the bag. The greatest kick blocker of them all. Fella's gave me that after the last game with Tech. You must have heard of the tag match, Don. I said to myself, it's up to you, Don. Boy, we've got to win this game. We've got to block this kick. And I did. I tore it through the secondary. Let's talk about light, Keeler, huh? Glad to, Fella. I scouted him myself. He was playing for City High. I called at his house, offered to send him to college. He accepted. Great boy. Lots of promise. When he loses that habit of his, they're rubbing his hands together sometime before and then around. He's dead. Didn't you know that? Didn't you see the papers? No. No, I didn't. Mark? Why? That's what I'm trying to... Oh, who murdered? You, Fella. What were you last night, Don? Boozing. Huh? You've got a law that says no, Fella, to sit with a friend and remember to drink to it. What friend? Played with me three years first string, just like I was right beside me, Tackle. I know that is, don't you? No. Johnny Harris, Fella, who else? Ask him. Oh, Johnny's got a business now, so it's easy to find a plant store in Lexington. Ask him. Why don't you, Fella? I'm just about to close up, Mr. But you're welcome to browse around. Find any item that hits you, just yell out. You're Johnny Harris. That's it, so you don't have to worry about it. Salesman's commission, I'm all there is. You find what hits you. I'm always willing to talk business. Find stock, electric floor waxes by Uber. Be glad to demonstrate. I'm from the police. And I'm in electric appliances, so we, too, have got what to hold up our heads about, huh, mister? That's not right, are you, me? I just left on Davey. Ah. He showed you his gold watch from after the tech game. Huh? As me got the boys to buy it for him. I didn't have fat on me then like I got now. You've stayed friends with him since college? Yeah, yeah, let's call it that. Don was a likable boy, never quite made man. But then you could say he was up against tough opposition. Like what? You meet his wife? You get to meet Claire Davey? What about her? You said you were with Don a little while ago. Don, second string, all American boy preserved in wax. That's what about his wife, Claire Davey? I don't understand. I don't blame you, it's hard to. The way I figured it's like this, Claire's a rich girl. She bought herself a one play hero, a second stringer who once won a Saturday afternoon. She'll never let him go. That's why she indulges him. Yeah, he spots it. He's got a marriage scholarship. She pays the bills, he works out football plays. Funny thing about him, whenever things get rough, he tucks the pigskin under his arm and runs up and down the football field. Funny. Tell me why I should spill like this to you. Two killings, Grace Cullen, Lloyd Keeler. And you came right from Donnie to me. That's right. Read the paper about him. About Mrs. Cullen, I haven't gathered any feeling yet. About the kid, about Lloyd. What about him? Sorry for him. Sorry for Don. Why for Don? Yeah, I'm not big with words, Mr. All I can tell you is lately Don's whole life was wrapped around that football kid, all he ever talks about now. Don't even boo so much anymore. I don't know what it is, the kid meant something real deep to Don. Maybe in the boy he saw himself when he was a kid. Maybe he thought he could make a man out of the kid, the kind of man Don never was. I don't know, I ain't that deep. Like that, huh? I told you, I don't know, I ain't that deep. Don said he was with you last night. He did? He said he sat with you and drank and remembers. He said all that, huh? Well, boy, excuse me, Mr. Johnny, hair speaking. Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah, I'll pay attention. Now, no play, kid. Yeah, I remember. Yeah, it was very glorious how we trimmed tech, but that was 20 years ago. Now, you listen to me. Before, when you called, I was ready to run along with a gag because we're college chums, because I feel sorry for you sometimes, because it happens to a guy. Not now, kid. No play. You heard, huh? That was Donny, boy. Last night, I didn't sit with Don. I didn't drink with him. I didn't remember with him. I was to a movie with my wife. I paid for the tickets. Thanks, Mr. Harris. Bad for Don. You know where to find him? Danny? Yeah? Guy's nuts, huh? Must have been kicked in the head, but it's. There's Markovan over there. This stands. Oh, yeah. Good evening. This is Detective Markovan, Mrs. Davy. You cold sitting up here, Mrs. Davy? Gentlemen care for a drink? There's still some in the thermos bottle. Jim? Why? Yes, help yourself. No, thanks, sir. Don't care for any. Please, sit down. 19, 72, 38. This is Davy. First, I want to tell you this. When Don comes off the field, telling him he was very good. Tell him better than ever. You kidding? Sure, we will. You were about to ask me, Mr. Culver? About all that's happened. Wave. Wave to him. He's looking. Thank you. 14, 96, right? About all that's happened, Mrs. Davy. I've. Lieutenant means about a couple murders, Mrs. Davy, a woman named Grace Cullen, a kid named Lloyd Keeler. I know. An explanation you mean. Or a confession, Mrs. Davy. Somewhere or the other. Or both would be nice. You see, it's so difficult to tell you all. Let me help you. You? About Don, what you did to him. I suppose you could say it that way. It's brutal, but it's true, I suppose. It's over now, isn't it? All of it. Yes. What you did to him, Mrs. Davy. Bought yourself a second string husband and wrapped him up and never let him go. 37, 93. Look at him. He's got an old and fat and slow. And the only way out, he knew. Football plays mapped out in his study. And this, what he's doing now. The old times when he was almost somebody. And then that kid came along, the football kid, Lloyd Keeler. Yes. Then I lost my husband. Everything your husband knew he wasn't. He saw fulfilled in that boy. The old college try, the old try. The time when he most nearly became a man. You're so right. So you killed the boy. You see, it's been 20 years. And I've owned Donny. And suddenly I didn't own him. That boy. Yes, I shot him. Grace Cullen, too. No. 86, 92, 14, 27. I tell you that because if it's over for me, then it's over for Don. He got away for a little while. Now we'll both suffer for it. Then here's what. You shot Lloyd after he'd seen Grace. Ask him. Leave him alone. I don't think we need to ask him anything, not now. Don came to see Grace, saw Lloyd walk out of their drunk. Don went for a walk with her. Then he killed her. Why? Can you tell me that? Don must have figured Lloyd lost the game on account of Grace. Hi. Oh, Don, here you drink, dear. Breaking training. You want a drink, dear? You were ready to go with us, Don? I'll tell you something first. What? When I saw you come here, I knew you were. When you waved, I knew Claire told you to. I was going to run, but I'm old and fat. I stopped being a hero 20 years ago. Where? Yes. Turned out the way you wanted. It'll happen to me, it'll happen to you. Happy day. It's the happy time on Broadway after the movie's time and nobody wants to go home. It's a place strung against the night like a phosphorescent alley and their heat there, golden girl and bright-eyed kid, the man with the promises and the guy who believes him. Broadway's My Beat stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover with Charles Calpher as Tartaglia and Jack Krushen as Muggevin. The program is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with musical most and conducted by Alexander Courage. In tonight's story, Paula Winslow was heard as Claire and Lou Merrill as Don Davy, featured in the cast were Joyce McCluskey, Eddie Fields, and Tom Tully, Bill Anders speaking. Has come to you through the worldwide facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.