 Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker's road and those who travel it wind up in the gutter the prison of the grave. This started with a terrified woman lost in a maze of memories she couldn't explain and waiting for outside an open window was death. From the pen of Raymond Chandler, outstanding author of crime fiction comes his most famous character in The Adventures of Philip Marlowe. Now with our star Gerald Moore, starred as Philip Marlowe. We bring you tonight's exciting story, The Open Window. California's a year-round kind of place. Where each day blends into the next with a sort of sunny indifference. But the one just passed had been a little special. It was the cool, crisp autumn weather that reminded you of the East. Where autumn meant kicking your way through knee-deep drifts of brown and yellow leaves. Along a rutted country road that hinted of adventure at every turn. Yeah, that's the kind of a day it had been. But now at a little past date as I stood at the window of my third-floor apartment and stared out over enough improved Los Angeles real estate to house maybe half a million people that tonight I wanted no part of. Because the world was out there minding everybody else's business, while I was in here minding my own. In here everything was in order and cozy. I could read if I want to, write a letter if I want to, or just relax with... No, no. Is your name Philip Marlowe? Yeah, why? Because I have that name and this address written here on this card. I think I was supposed to see you. Do you know me? Well, no, frankly, I don't. What were you supposed to see me about? Who are you, Mr. Marlowe? I mean what sort of business? I'm a private detective. Wait a minute, wait a minute. It's not that bad a racket, baby. Oh, now look, why don't you come in and we'll talk this over, huh? Come on. All right. Thank you. There. Sit down, won't you? You look like you can use a drink, but you want one? No, thank you. I just need to rest a moment. Oh. I've been walking for hours. Well now, tell me, what is it? A man, I think. Someone's been following me. I was followed here, I'm sure. I don't know why. Really? This is Los Angeles, California, isn't it? Yeah. I keep thinking, that is, I feel as though it should be Vancouver, British Columbia. Oh. I don't know how I got here or why I want to see you, but I've walked until I'm nearly exhausted and I found that I'd written your name and address on this card here, so I decided to come and try to find out. Well, now tell me, do you know who you are? No, I don't know who I am. Uh-huh. This man you're afraid of, do you know him? No. But I believe he knew me. He reminded me of Vancouver and that frightened me. I seem to remember I saw him a year ago. Maybe it was just a day before yesterday. See, I'm crazy, that's all. But I can't help it, I can't remember, I can't- Yeah, yeah, take it easy, now you better lie down on the door, man, that's it. Come on. I had a girl. Look, I think we ought to call a hospital and see it. Stay where you are, it's a company in the hall, maybe for us, now just take it easy. Hey! Hey, you, hold it! Hold it up there! Oh, great. Who was it, Mr. Marlowe? I couldn't see. Don't let it bother you now, honey. It's probably just one of my clumsy neighbors. Never watches where he's going. You know, the other night- Oh, stop, please. All right. Whoever was out there was looking for me. I know he was, I know it. Now, look, honey, isn't there something you can tell me? Don't you remember anything? No, I don't know. Here, look in my purse, there are things in it I don't understand. Maybe there'll be some help. Key, address on a piece of brown paper. 8400 North Virgil, Tompkins. Does that mean anything to you? No. Little snapshot album with one of the pictures missing. Oh, wait a minute. I remember now. That was stolen. Good. But I don't remember what the picture was. Oh, please, please try to find out who I am and why I'm being followed. Please try to find out why I'm afraid. All right, baby. Now, you stay here till I get back, huh? I won't bother anything. I'll wait right here. Oh, I'm so tired. I figured what she needed most was rest, and she was getting that fast, and I found a person in my pocket, snapped a lock in my apartment door and left. My first stop was the phone downstairs in the lobby, where I found out that the missing persons bureau had no one on file answering her description. My next stop was 8400 North Virgil. A half hour later, I found it. A crumbling, stucco-rooming house in a weller of knobby hills, huddled with other ramshackle houses that years ago had abandoned any hope of beauty. In the face of the leaky, bobbing oil wells that had invaded the neighborhood of greasy grasshoppers, I walked past one of the creaking monsters in the front yard, then down a grimy hall with door-marked manager, Jacob Philpots, below which some neighborhood wagging pencil stinks. It wasn't funny. But neither was Jake Philpots. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Speak up, Sporty. I'm very busy killing a soldier. What's on your mind beside your hat? Okay, Kamek, I want to see Tompkins. Oh, you want to see Tompkins for you? That's what I said. Come on, Blue, flew the coop. Took the 500 berries and shoved off two hours ago. For where? For his whole town, I guess. Vancouver, this way up in Canada. Which is a long walk, Sporty, so you better get started. Wait a minute, Jake. Where did Tompkins get the 500? Well, some classy guy gave it to him. Classy guy? Why? Well, I had to get out of town and stay out. So he does. But first he pays back all his back rent with a bottle besides. Wasn't that sweet of him? Had stuff over there? Yeah. He must have hated you. Who was the classy guy? Why do you want Tompkins out of town? Why do you want Tompkins out of town? Well, how do I know? What am I in a cycle preview? I look nosy, my whiskey's getting cold, so why don't you run along? I want to know who the guy was, and I want to know. So you're going to stop pushing us? Do you want to fight her? Okay, put him up. Come on. Take it easy, boss. Take it easy. You'll beat yourself to death. Now, let's negotiate. I'll pop up against the wall and I'll talk to you. What about a price for another bottle, that stuff? I wouldn't like just another bottle. That's what I said. Oh, well, that's different. That's really nice of you, Sporty. Not really, kid. I'm trying to poison you. Now, what was Tompkins' racket? Oh, a gardener, a carpenter, a handyman. Nothing much. What else? Who was the classy guy that bought him off? Let's see. He had his name right on the tip of my tongue a minute ago. His red-headed, flashy dresser had a sort of a... Oh! Oh! Palmer, Palmer! Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. That's it. Palmer, there. Very good. Now, one more. Where can I find him? Well, he said something about running the pearls. You got it? Yeah, it's a dive on Highland. Thanks, Phil Potts. Oh, but don't thank me, Sporty. You bought it, remember? This brand comes to 750 with tax. Don't kid an old kid of Jake. You can squeeze that junk out of sour potatoes. Here's a spin. Sour potatoes! Here's a happy hangover. Outside the smell of the oil well as I passed it was welcomed by comparison to Jake, which made it tough to reconcile anything I'd seen at 8400 North Virgil with a girl asleep on the dive van in my apartment. As I drove back to Hollywood then down Highland Avenue the night was still strangely quiet. Everything seemed to come in whispers. Even the hunch I had that the vanishing Mr. Tompkins had sold out dirt cheap to the boss of the pearls. Near Third Street, I spotted the place. Parked a ways beyond it and walked back. It was one of those dumps that dealt in bad bar whiskey. Second-rate buck and a lot of darkness. I shook off a brace of lost weekenders on my way through. I made it up the stairs to the offices where a block of orange light on the floor and a two-tone conversation told me to stop, look and listen. I have to show you, huh? All right, no, I will. You're not easy to get over. I still love you and I've missed you. So when you dropped me for your stuffy broker friend I did a little checking up and I found out plenty. About Cooper? About Cooper Gerard. I don't believe you. Oh, but you should, honey. You see, Norman, it's not about him specifically, but about a woman. A woman who's all wrong, who spells trouble this deep and I can prove it. I went to work on it tonight and things are gonna be different from now on. All right, buddy. Buddy, I wanted you to tell me about it. Get out of here, get out of here, go on. I mean, I want a minute. All I want to know is where is it? I said beat it and I meant... Never mind, Buster. It doesn't matter anymore. My presence is now known. Come on in, Junior. You can hear better inside. I doubt it. I'll inhibit the performers. But thanks anyway. Buddy, all I want to know is... Now try the end of the hall and left. It's usually there. Okay, thanks. It's all I want to know. Hello. Hello. What do you want, mister? Make it snappy. Okay. Why'd you pay Tompkins to leave town tonight? Tompkins? Who are you? Marlowe, gonna answer the question, Parmelay? Well, I certainly didn't pay him to leave town. I paid him for some work. Carpenter work, why? What's the matter, Alan? Feel the whip-handle slipping? Not a bit, baby. Look, why don't you run along now? I'll call you later. Oh, here's your cigarette case. My cigarette case? Yeah. Take it with you. We'll get in touch later. Okay, Alan. Good night, Marlowe. Good night, Miss... A castle. Not that it'll do you any good, Junior. That's a cute kid. Smart, too, I'll pay you. All right, all right. Why are you interested in Tompkins? There's a certain lady who's interested. And a lady's name? Not in your business. Okay. Go on. Miss Key, what door does it fit, Parmelay? How should I know? Have you got anything else? Isn't that enough? There's not enough to worry about, Marlowe, so I suggest that you leave. And in case you have any doubts, this thing goes off awful easy. I see your point. Yeah. And I just as soon shoot his nuts, so start down those stairs, and don't look back. I bust for a couple of the boys. They'll be at the bottom. They'll help you out the front door. Oh, and Marlowe, take some advice. I don't like your type, so don't come back. The boys escorted me politely as far as the sidewalk and gave me a send-off that piled me into the gutter. It was my own fault letting Parmelay get the drop on me, but it was farther ahead of me than I figured. In fact, I was lucky all I got was the bounce. I limped back to my car, got in and started home, but something about the trio of Norma Lacasso, Parmelay, and a broker named Gerard was offset it. And Gerard's connections were too strong to pass up. So I decided to let the pale woman asleep in my apartment go right on sleeping while I stopped at a phone booth. Found only one Cooper Gerard list. Didn't he at 8112, North Orange Drive? It was a lonely house up in the Hollywood Hills. I tried the bell and got no answer, but I knew he was there. I slipped the enigmatic key out of my pocket and listened to the music coming from inside. I stuck it in a lock. It turned just as the footsteps inside, so I pulled it out fast and let the party on the other side of the door do the honors. What is it? You're Mr. Gerard? Yes, I'm Cooper Gerard. What is it? I'd like to come in and talk to you. My name's Marlowe. I'm a private detective. I've got a key that fits your front door plus a little photo album full of a girl. Here. Why, that's Margaret's album and her key. You found her, Hirishi. What's happened to her? She's safe. Come in the upper room. Right. So her name's Margaret, huh? Margaret what? Veezy. Margaret Veezy. But where is she? I've been frantic. I called the police. She left the house this morning and didn't come back. It's late now and in her condition, I'm afraid that something... What is Margaret's condition, Mr. Gerard? She was injured in an auto accident a year ago last July up near Vancouver. It affected her mind. Oh, but please, where is she? I must get... Just a minute. There are some questions that I'd like answered first. Exactly. What is Margaret Veezy to you? Well, until July 9th, 1948, when that horrible accident happened, nothing, merely a hitchhiker. My wife and I were motoring back from a vacation in Canada. We picked Ms. Veezy up on the road. In the accident, Grace, my wife, was killed. Ms. Veezy seriously injured. All I knew about her was that she was alone in the world, so there was no one to help her. Well, since I was driving the car, I assumed that responsibility. It was the least I could do. I stayed with her in Vancouver until she'd partially recovered and then brought her here. She's been with me ever since. Now will you please take me to her? But the story doesn't end there. What do you mean? Margaret Veezy's in trouble and she's scared. What do you know about a man named Tompkins, Mrs. Why? Nothing. I don't know any Tompkins. You do know a Norma LaCasso, don't you? Norma? Of course, Mr. LaCasso and I are quite good friends. What about Alan Pomaly? I've heard of him. He runs a nightclub, I believe. That's right. Now tell me. Can you tell me why a third picture is missing in the album? What's that? Let me see. This is very strange. Margaret cherishes every picture in this album. She thinks that one was stolen. Any idea what the picture was? No. I can't imagine why it was stolen. All the pictures were simple, harmless snapshots. I can't remember the one that's missing. Marla, what does all this mean? What's it all about? Well, as near as I can tell, there's some kind of nasty shakedown brewing. I don't know how or why, but Alan Pomaly's behind it and Margaret Veezy's caught in the middle, so it involves you, too. Come on, let's go get her. She's asleep in my place. You didn't leave her alone? Oh, you shouldn't have done that. Couldn't you tell from her mental state that she isn't responsible? For two days she's been moody, she's been talking about suicide. She might... Marla, if anything's happened... Save it. Come on, Gerard, let's travel. In just a moment, the second act of Philip Marlowe. But first, by the time you've listened to Johnny Dollar, Philip Marlowe, gangbusters and Escape and the CBS All-Star Saturday Night lineup, you may be in the mood for some sleuthing of your own. So try it with Sing It Again and The Phantom Voice. Don't always let the other guy or gal solve the mystery. Try it yourself with Sing It Again on most of these same CBS stations every Saturday night. Now with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlowe and tonight's story, the open window. It took ten minutes to get from Gerard's house to my place. I knew because he reminded me of each one as it passed. But when we turned on the Franklin where we could see my apartment house, the word hurry stuck in his throat. An ambulance was pulling away from a tight knot of people standing on the concrete driveway beside the building. And three floors above them glowing like a single, ugly, unblinking eye was the window of my own apartment, wide open. Even before I could stop the car, Gerard was out and running toward the crowd. Who was in that ambulance? It was terrible. She fell out of that open window up there. Did you say it? Oh, nobody saw it. Yeah, it's bad, brother. They say she'd been laying here on the concrete for at least a half hour before anybody got to her. You've been sequitered around here. Tonight I'm surprised that you're out. Wait, tell me, was she dead? Just about. They don't give her a chance. Come on, Gerard, let's go upstairs. The police are up there now. They're trying to find out what's going on. You say the woman came here to your apartment, Mr. Marlowe, and asked you for help. Is that right? That's right, officer. She was frightened and exhausted. When I left, she was asleep on the dive van there. The door locked, Marlowe. Yeah, it's got a nightlight, Gerard. I snapped it myself. And you left her alone, right? Mm-hmm. Well, take a look around. We'll just see if you can find anything to indicate that an outsider came in while you were gone. What makes you think there was an outsider here? Because I don't think she fell. Marlowe was a mental turmoil officer. She's been despondent. It's possible that she jumped. Yeah. How many people have you heard of that jumped out of a window backwards, Mr. I think she was pushed. Pushed? Yeah. Come here, both of you. I want to show you something. They did five scratches where fingernails had clawed the paint off the casing. The one that had to be made by her thumb was the lowest. It was true she'd gone out backwards. As the officer explained that to Gerard, I stared down at the dwindling knot of people three stories below. Then up again at the five jagged scars ripped deep by a terrified woman's nails, stared at them until they screamed at me as a sick mind must have screamed when she fell. Now, Mr. Marlowe, what about this cigarette stub with lipstick on it? Cigarette stub? Hey, that's exactly what I'd like to know. Gerard, where does Norma live? Never mind what I think. You go to the hospital and find out about Margaret. I'm going to pay a call on Norma LaCasso right now. She's a type to be jealous enough to... Marlowe, listen, you're making a mistake. That cigarette stub must be Margaret's, because Norma doesn't smoke. But Norma doesn't smoke? And what about the cigarette case? Hey, Buster, you better check with Lieutenant Matthews at Homicide. I'll see you later. Hey, come back here, Marlowe. The Hillcrest departments fit Norma LaCasso to a T. They were sleek, soft tones of burnished wood streamlined in glass and just enough chrome around for glitter. And when she answered a door in glossy green lounging pajamas edged in gold smiled and tossed a head of hair that was almost burgundy back from her face I knew what Alan Palmley meant. Loving Norma LaCasso would be hard to get over. Hello, Junior. Don't tell me you're joining the league, too. It's fast, you know? Skip it, baby. I'm coming in to your mind. No. Will it do any good? Mm-mm. Get comfortable. I'll make sure to drink or something. Hey, Norma, you know Margaret Visey, don't you? That peculiar girl that stays at your aunt's place? Yeah, I met her a while. A little while ago she dropped three floors from an open window to a slab of concrete. Lay there over 30 minutes before she was found. Oh, Marlowe, that's dreadful. I'm sorry. Don't look at me like that. I mean it. I like Margaret. So do I. What's more, she didn't fall. She was pushed. Oh. Got a cigarette? Oh, sure. Here. Catch. Thanks. Oh, just one cigarette toss like that? Your man is a lousy. You're supposed to pass the kiss and let the guest help himself. Marlowe, you're hurting. I'm gonna keep right on twisting until that solid gold cigarette case drops. I just want a head door about men. They're fools. That's better. A gorilla. All right, to help yourself. The picture's there under the bottom layer of cigarettes. But why it's important to be on me. It's important to palmily, baby, had you smuggled out of his office so I couldn't find it. Oh. Margaret and Gerard, it's some little amusement park. Mm-hmm. They're Vancouver, probably. She told me how he used to take her out while she was recovering from that accident. So what? Even the autographs ought to make no sense to me. Yeah, this one's hers. Yeah, we had fun this day. This must be his even the hardest day in Vancouver's history. Now, that's it, muscles all of it. Now will you apologize for these welts on my arm? I don't get it. The whole deal's screwy. The only way it would make any sense is if... Norma, where's your phone book? Over there, under the phone. Mm-hmm. Why? Just an idea so fast. Stick around. Let's see, U.S. government. Or assets, warrants, as mentioned. Weather Bureau. Planetological records, yeah. Mutual. Six, four, four, two, one. Hello, listen, can you tell me what the hardest day on record in Vancouver has been? I mean, the date. Do you have that information? British Columbia? Yes, we've got it here. I'm pretty sure. Just a minute. What's that supposed to prove, Bob? I'm not sure yet. Yes, we've got it. Hello? I'm here, go ahead. The book says the hardest day up there was on July 3, 1948, when the temperature reached 92 degrees. Some heat record, huh? That's a nice place, Vancouver. I was up there one year. Yeah, thanks, friend. The Weather Bureau just lifted a cloud from a lady's mind. I hope you did it in time so long. You found out something big, didn't you? It works. Well, aren't you going to pull a gun? They always do about here. Not me. I've got concealed weapons. You've also got dollar bills and your bloodstream instead of corpuscles. But you're smart, baby. So take a tip. Stick close to home. Don't even use the phone. You're a real nice, shiny item. I'd like to keep you that way. Thanks. I'm going to take your word, Junior. But what does it mean? Trouble. Just as soon as I can stir it up. Good night. The norma isn't the time to be gone by. I figured my best bet was Gerard's place, but I was wrong. It was deserted, so I took the next best, which was Alan Pomley's The Pearls. It was well after 2 o'clock when I got there and the club was closed, but the lights were on, the offices upstairs. I parked, slipped around to the back and up a flight of iron stairs to a metal door at the top. I pressed my weight against it and very gently turned the knob. And tugged softly and it swung open without a sound. Voices in the same square of orange light on the floor said that Pomley's office was open again. So I eased my gun into my hand and moved until I could see him. A pair of jackals coming at terms over the carcass before. Since I know your little secret, Mr. Gerard, the proposition I'm offering you is perfectly fair. What is it? First, that you stop seeing Norma Lacasso. And I mean stop. Go on. Second, that you deliver $5,000 here to me by the end of the week. You must have got a lot of insurance on your wife, Gerard. Double indemnity, too. Am I asking too much? Blackmail leaves me no alternative. You're so right. How did you find out that she's not Margaret Visee? Ha, ha, ha! A beautiful break. When you started seeing Miss Lacasso, I began checking up on you. And two days ago, that checking up led me to the strange woman you called Margaret Visee and the character named Tompkins. Ever hear of him? No. An itinerant gardener who was looking for work at your place. Also Gerard, an itinerant gardener who knew your Margaret Visee. Who knew her as someone named Grace. And Grace Gerard Lest, we forget, was your wife. When he called her, Grace, it's scared that she couldn't do it, but I could. So I see. Where is this Tompkins now, Parmille? Ha, ha, don't worry about him. I sent him away. You keep his mouth shut. He used to be a gardener on the wealthy side of Vancouver where your wife lived. Small world and... Very small world. Now, wait a minute, Gerard. I'm going to kill you, Parmille. I knew something like this would happen someday. My wife was getting her memory back. She was beginning to remember things. To realize that she wasn't really Margaret Visee at all, but that Margaret Visee had died in the accident. And tonight, I pushed her out of an open window. The doctors practically assure me that she'll be dead by morning. She won't be missed, and neither will you, I'm sure. Excuse me, a bellie, Gerard. If you move one inch. You, Parmille, come around here with me at desk. Come on. This time I'm glad to see you, Marlowe. You're the lesser of two evils. That's great. Well, it was a sweet story, fellas. Between you, you left out only one thing, the picture. You got it from the little album because you needed some tangible proof, didn't you, Parmille? And it cinched the deal because the accident happened on the 9th of July. But Gerard here had his picture taken with a supposed hitchhiker on Vancouver's hottest day, which was July 3rd. Six days before he claims to have met the girl. Picture? How'd you manage to master-stroke Gerard, the switching identities in the first place? Come on, talk! We're near him! It was a mistake. Both Miss Beasley and my wife were in the car at the time of the accident. The car burned. Then somehow or other later at the hospital, Margaret Beasley, who died, was identified as my wife, Grace. And since her memory was gone, you made the switch complete and called your wife Margaret Beasley and left it like that. You know, Gerard, I hope you make a break for it just once before we get the headquarters. Let's go. You two, Parmille, move! All right, but you'll have a hard time sticking me, Snoop. I haven't done anything. Oh, yes, you have. Attempted extortion as of right now. You just incited a rat! Dr. Gray, do a receiving ward, please. Dr. Gray. She's in here, Mr. Marlowe. Sure it's all right if I see her now, doctor. After what you've just told me, I think it's a good idea. Her condition has changed somewhat. She's responded better than I expected, but she can use some fighting spirit, some spunk. Maybe you can give her that. We can't. I hope so. And don't stay too long, that's all. Hello, Grace. I'm Philip Marlowe, remember me? Yes, I think I do, Mr. Marlowe. I'm glad to see you. Oh, good. I just stopped by to tell you that I have all the answers to those troublesome questions in your mind. You don't have to be afraid of them anymore. You've got nothing to worry about now except getting well. Thank you. It's all hazy back there. I can't remember where I've been. You've been away, Grace, for a long time, but now you'll be going home soon to your friends. Believe that. I'll run along now and come back tomorrow when you're feeling better. We'll have a long talk then. Wait. Who is Margaret Veezy? The girl you knew once, briefly. And what I'll never forget. I went to sleep one night at my dive van. I don't remember. You will. Don't think about it now. Just think about home in Vancouver. You'll be there soon, I promise. That sounds wonderful. It's lovely in Vancouver. Yeah. That's what the weatherman says. Good night, my dear. When I finally got home, the air in my apartment was thick. Full of stagnant fear and stale tobacco smoke. So I went over the window to open it up. But there I stopped because I remembered standing at that same window earlier that evening. Standing there thinking how happy I was that it was out there. How happy I was to be inside looking out. Then I saw again the five deep scratches on the casing. Inside looking out, huh? There was a guy once, a long time ago, who said something like, no man is an island, an entire of itself. About 300 years ago he said that. Any man's death diminishes me. Because I'm involved in mankind. Sure. This time it was a wrestler on the skids. A quick change artist in an alley and a girl with an eye for angles. All met destruction because 100,000 easy bucks caught him in a stranglehold. Which none of them wanted to break. The next time you're in the woods, make sure that cigarette butt, that match or that campfire is completely out. Only you can prevent forest fires. This is Paul Masterson speaking. Now stay tuned for gangbusters, which follows immediately over most of these same stations. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.