 The Adventures of Frank Race, starring Paul Dubaugh. The war changed many things, the face of the earth and the people on it. Before the war, Frank Race worked as an attorney, but he traded his law books for the cloak and dagger of the OSS. And when it was over, his former life was over too. Adventure had become his business. The Adventures of Frank Race. Now we join Frank Race for the adventure of the runway queen. Usually an insane asylum comes equipped with barred windows and men in white jackets. But there's one in New York that runs wide open. It's a simple building in the heart of the theatrical district on 46th near Broadway. And from the outside it looks like any other office building. It houses talent agents, music publishers, show producers, and theater hopefuls who rent rehearsal rooms by the hour. And once you get inside the place, you'll be inclined to say, as Mark Donovan did, Holy cow, what a madhouse. Just the place for a nice restful vacation. I wish that dame would take a vacation, but he had to take gas. If I had a voice like that, I would very gladly close the door for the sake of humanity. She is rather uninhibited. Oh brother, get a load of this coming down the hall. What's that thing on his shoulder? Looks like a trained pigeon, probably part of a rack. Hey, that's an act could lay an egg anytime. For that, you could get a split week as a comedian on the boundary circuit. Oh, I forgot to ask you. What are we doing here? I'm not sure. A man named Barney Lang dropped me a note, asked me to come and see him. He's a talent agent. Maybe he's got a pot for you and little women. For that, I could get a whole week on the boundary circuit. For that one, you could also incur a sudden nosebleed. This is Lang's place, room 418. So let's walls in. Hey, sign on the door. It says closed for the day. Yes, he mentioned that in his letter. Send me a key to the place. A key? Too bad he ain't managing the bank. You, Frank Race? Yes? I'm Lang. Come in quick and shut that door, that racket is spritzing my head open. Take more than the door to drown out that kind of rack. Oh, what do you know? I had the place sound proof. There's usually enough of a racket in here without having that tool. Barney Lang. A magic name along Broadway. Discover of more stars than you can see from Central Park on an average night. He didn't look the part though. The cigar was clenched between his teeth. He needed a shave and the suit he wore might have belonged to an unemployed mortician. He also looked as though he might have been drinking his own embalming fluid. Yes, you're wondering about that key routine. I'm wondering about a lot of things. I had to close up to keep the talent out of here and give us a chance to talk. I didn't want to call in one of them 25 bucks a day privatized race. This thing I want you to do is kind of touchy. I can start off by telling you that I'm expensive. One of my clients is giving me a headache. I want to find out what goes with her. Her name is Laurie Marlowe. Laurie Marlowe? Ain't she the damnest things on the radio? The gal with the common get me Papa Pike? That's right. She gets $5,000 a week for that program. Look, Grace. I picked this kid up three years ago when she was nothing. She was a stripper in her blessed house and she sang a song once in a while. I heard something in that voice the other guys missed. I took her out of the joint, had her trained, got her a good deal. I don't want to see her blow up a career. What makes you think she will? I'm coming to that. I got her a picture deal last year. A fat deal. She bounced up the cloud eight when I told her. And then all of a sudden she freezes. No dice. Temperament? I thought so for a while. Then I found something out. It's going to sound crazy. What is it? Lori has a funny habit, Grace. She disappears in between radio shows. Doesn't show up all week. You can believe this or not, but she spends her time between shows working in Bolasque. What? $5,000 a week in radio. Wait a minute, Mark. There's got to be a reason for that, Grace. And it can't be good. All that dough in radio, when she turns down Hollywood, then she takes $75,000 a week to strip and some dive. Have you ever asked her why? Once I asked her where she was spending her time. She clammed up. I'm telling you, Grace, she was scared. Told me she'd get another agent if I didn't leave her alone. I'll take the case, Lang. Where is she now? She's dancing in the Berlich Q review race in Boston. Boston and Bolasque. They go together like ice cream and mustard, but they do go together. An improper line in a bestseller or legitimate stage show can lower the band like Clancy lowers the boom, but the bump and grind artists are not banned in Boston. Well, here it is. The Boiley Q review theater. Look at them pictures, not a lobby. They're like beasts. Not all of them. Look at that poster. Egyptian Queen of the runway. Now, that is a dish. That is also Laurie Marlowe. No wonder Lang is curious. I wonder if her face is as good as the rest of her. You can't tell what had failed. We may find out later. Stage door is open for rehearsal. Let's go in through the alley. Hey, wait a minute. You just can't walk in at these joints. Don't they have dormant or something? We have all sorts of insurance company credentials, Mark, and theaters carry all sorts of insurance. We'll get by. The cubby hole where the doorman is usually found was empty. We went through and stood in the wings. Egypt was on stage and the dance she was doing was enough to make you forget the inadequacies of the pianist and the despairing tone of the dance director as he tried to whip the lumbering chorus into a semblance of unity. One, two, three. Keep in the step. Keep in the step. Wait, wait a minute, wait a minute. Cut it, Sam. Cut it. Jackie, which is your left foot? You only got a tool. Take a choice. What do you want for 40 bucks a week? Ginger Rogers? I'm tired. You're tired. Oh, break it up. Rudy, we're all tired. You don't need me to finish, do you? Oh, no, you're all right, Egypt. Go get dressed. She walked into the wings and came toward us. The piano had stopped, but she carried her own music with her as she moved. And it wasn't burlesque music. This girl was definitely on the symphony side. Oh, I'm sorry I bumped into you. I wasn't looking. That's all right, Miss Marlowe. Or did you call me? You are Laurie Marlowe, aren't you? No, no, I'm not. That's not my name. Let me pass, please. You heard her, pal. Let her pass. He stepped out of the shadows near a backdrop. His eyes were an indefinite blue-white like skim milk, and the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth was unlighted. His lips were almost white, too. He looked... He looked like he'd finished drinking his own blood using the cigarette for a straw. Get dressed, Egypt. I'll cool these stage door Johnny's and wait for you. All right, Rebel. You came in through the wrong door. The box office is around front. My name is Ray, so I'm just checking a few... I know who you are. I know who you're working for. I got reasons why you should quit. Meaning the gun you're holding in your pocket? The gun says you should go and tell Bonnie Lang to mind his own business. And if I don't? A gun can get awful nasty race. This isn't the time of the place for trouble, Rebel, so I'll let that pass. But when the time and the place are right, I'm gonna take that toy away from you and make you eat it. I'm glad you said that, Race. I'll tell the boss. Then maybe he'll issue me a special hunting license. Just for you. Rebel had told me two things. One was that he had a boss. The second was that Laurie Milo was not in control of her own destiny. Mark and I found a cafe around the corner from the theater. Most of the cast wanted in there after the rehearsal broke. We took seats at the counter next to the girl called Jackie. I just want a cup of coffee when you get a chance, Joe. Hello. Hello. Had a little trouble at rehearsal, didn't you? Yeah, I always have trouble. Were you there? In the wings. I thought you were doing fine. Ah, that Rudy. He's all right until Egypt is around, then he puts on a big act. You'd think he was doing a Hollywood musical. Who's Rudy? Rudy Casano, the dance director. You saw him. He's over in the corner booth there with Millie, one of the girls. Oh, yes. I take it Rudy has a crush on Egypt. He better not if he's smart. She's aiming for a bigger moose than him. Hey, that's my date outside. Never mind the coffee, Joe. Well, so long. So long, Jackie. Anything making sense yet, Rhys? No. I'd like to find out who the big moose is, though. The one Laurie Marlowe or Egypt is setting her cap for. You go rent a car, Mark. Keep your eye on Laurie. Tell her wherever she goes. But don't let Rebel sneak up on you. Don't worry. I'll play it safe. What are you going to do? I'm going to make friends and influence people in that corner booth. Go ahead. Yeah. See you later. Are you Rudy Casano? Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm a Casano. Hey, didn't I see you backstage a while ago? Yes, I was watching you work. Are you in a business? In a way. I'm scouting for Barney Lang. He's got a chance to sell some talent for a big Broadway musical if he can find the right people. Oh, won't you sit down, Mr.... Race. Frank Race. This is Milly Davis. She's in a chorus. Hello. I'm very happy to meet you, Mr. Race. Of course, you don't know it, Casano, but we've had an eye on you. You and that girly gypsia. Gee, that's swell. You know, I do better work than this. I just took the show temporarily, waiting for a break, you know? I understand. How about the girl? Oh, she wouldn't leave here. There ain't as much dough in all Broadway as she could get just by marrying a guy that's after her. Say, I'm a pretty good dancer, Mr. Race. Egyptian's boyfriend sounds like big money. More than money, Mr. Race. Real big shot family. He's, uh, Henry Brewster Burton III. Henry Brewster Burton III. Most eligible bachelor in Boston. Cream of the social register and a powerful man in Washington. Laurie Marlowe was really moving into the big leagues and doing it the hard way via a burlesque runway. It didn't add up. You'd be wasting your time with the Egypt, Mr. Race. Besides, I'm a better dancer than she'll ever be. All I need is just one... I know, Milly, a break. That's what we all need. Just one break. I'll see both of you later. I watched Laurie Marlowe masquerading as Egyptian do her show at the burleque review that night. She took off everything the law would allow, except the veil that covered the lower half of her face. Mark tailed her from the theater and I went back to the hotel to wait for his report. I was dozing off in a chair when I opened the door and she came in. Without the veil, her face looked like it had been done by Michelangelo on one of his better days. There was something about her lips that you think of all the kisses you had ever enjoyed and then made you forget them in the hope of the one you might get. Surprised to see me? A little. You weren't very happy with me this afternoon. I was angry with Barney Lane for sending you. You see, Race, I started out in Burlesque for some reason I love her. That's all. So you mix it in with a 5,000 a week radio career? You know, sometimes a farm kid makes good in a big town. It's his own swimming pool. But when he gets a chance, he takes off his shoes and goes wading in a brook. Sometimes. That's the way it is with me. You're lying, baby. Why should I lie to you, Race? Her hands took the lapels of my jacket and she drifted into my arms. I kissed her and it started bells ringing. One of the bells I didn't like, it was the phone. I'd better, or whoever is ringing might come up. Hello? Hey, Race, it's me. The dame, won't you? Yes, Mark. I thought so. I lost him down here in the lobby, so keep your eyes open, huh? He's on the loose in the building. I get it. Party's getting rough, kid. Just heard a news flash and a car radio on. We got a stiff in our hands. Who is it? Barney Lane. He was shot and killed in his office earlier this morning. They just found a party. We'll return to the Adventures of Frank Race in just about one minute. Welcome back to the Adventures of Frank Race. I managed to get Lori Marlowe out of the hotel room. Took the back stairs to avoid meeting Rebel and his gun at that point. And Mark and I took a night drive to New York. We got there in the early morning and my key led us into Barney Lane's office. Race, you know something? It would not be good if the cops found us prowling around here. They look lousy in stripes. I know, Marcus, but whatever Barney Lane was killed for, it was something he found out after we left him. Yeah. But he ain't going to be telling us now. I want to check his files on Lori Marlowe. They should be in this cabinet. What's the matter, Locke? Yes. There's a fire axe just outside the door. Get it? Okay. It's the second drawer. Fire letters H to N. Hit it with the butt end as near the lock as you can. Please. Please, Chum. You are talking to a kid which almost played ball with a Yankee. See what I mean? That did it. The lock has sprung. Yeah, now, this is the folder, Lori Marlowe. See what you can find around here while I go through this. Okay. There were some odd conditions in Lori Marlowe's contract with Barney Lane. No personal appearances, no club dates, no publicity pictures released without her approval, no studio audiences permitted at her broadcasts, no television shows, and Mark added to it. Hey, look at me. There's a bunch of clippings and pictures of Marlowe there. Oh, how you could prove it was her and her. Why? Well, you never get a good flash at her face. Look, look. One of them hats with a veil, see? And this one here, all black taken from the side. That's a silhouette. Are they all like that? Yeah. Yeah. Well, except this old one here. Taken down in Mexico up in the looks of the buildings and those big hatchy and a guy with her wearing. Even so, she's covered with shadows. So is he. For some reason, Mark, this girl can't show her face in public. But the picture does show one thing on her hand. A wedding ring. Yeah. Hey, Ray, what's behind it? I don't know. Put everything back. I'll go through Lang's desk. All right. Look, is there anything here that you want me to... Can I come in? It's you, Mr. Ray. Yes, Millie. It's me. You're a long way from Boston, aren't you? Well, when you told me about Mr. Lang looking for people, I just thought I'd take a plane down and see him myself. Where is he? You ought to keep posted on the news, Millie. He's in the county morgue. Glory Marlowe was hiding from something. But what? All roads were dead-ended, except the one we hadn't tried. Mr. Henry Brewster Burton III. We returned to Boston to pay a call at the exclusive back bay mansion of the Brewsters, a manage that you'd hardly expect to produce a pursuer of a burlesque queen. Henry III received me in the library. I understand you're an investigator, Mr. Rayce. Yes. I want some information about a girl you've been seeing. What girl? And what sort of information? Egypt, at the burlesque review. Sorry. I will not answer any questions concerning Egypt. Look, Burton, this is important. A man has been murdered. Are you implying that Egypt is involved in it? Very definitely. What kind of a game are you trying to work? No game. I'm looking for information. You have it. I want it. I'm going to ask you very politely to get out of here, unless you'd prefer to have me throw you out. I wouldn't try that, if I were you. I was intercollegiate boxing champion for three years, Mr. Rayce. Now get out. You are pretty good. Not bad, sir. Let me go, Rayce. No, I'll hold onto this arm until you decide to cooperate. And next time you see your college boxing coach, have him explain why you should never be drawn into a right-hand lead. All right. You win the fight. But that doesn't get you the information you want. Stop being a lot and start being practical about your lady, love Burton. I've got an idea. She's been playing you for a sucker. Believe in being brutally frank, don't you? I'll let you decide for yourself. The girl's been working you for something, hasn't she? Some kind of favor to be done through your influence? Yes. What kind of a favor? Maybe the key to a murder, Burton. You may help her later if she's involved, but you can't cover for her. The favor was both political and personal. There's a man in the federal penitentiary, her brother. His name is James Marlowe. She asked me to use my influence to have him move from a West Coast prison to one in the East. James Marlowe. That's right. James Marlowe. The name started wheels turning, convicted of post office robbery and sentenced to 20 years, still had 15 to go. Does that help any race? It helps a lot. And I think she was lying to you. I think James Marlowe will turn out to be her husband, not her brother. Her husband? I have an idea that she was married in Mexico. That's why American police couldn't find any record of a marriage when Marlowe was tried. But he's been in jail for five years, right? Yes, Burton. But the eyewitness, the postal clerk whose testimony convicted him, swore that a girl was with Marlowe when the robbery was staged. They went to Mexico and got married as a mutual cover-up, so neither could be forced to testify against the other if they were caught. I've been taken in, haven't I, race? It happens to the best of us. But for your sake, I hope you didn't try to arrange that favor. That's the trouble. I did. Marlowe is on a train right now, being moved east. Then you'd better call your contact in Washington, have a heavy guard rushed to the train as soon as possible. This is the payoff of a long-range plan. Marlowe will make a pitch for freedom. They'll try to get him off that train. It was still no solution to the murder of Barney Lang. He had found out some things that were certain, but how? I kept thinking about it as I left Burton's house to join Mark and the car, thinking so hard that I missed Mark's signal. Somebody jammed a gun into my ribs. All right, nosy. Climb into the car. I'm sorry, race. I tried to catch your eye. All right, start the car and let's move. You're a busy little fellow, aren't you, Rebel? I asked the boss for that license like I said, race. I got it. You ain't gonna like this ride. Too bad you had to come alone. I just found out why you haven't had more company. What do you mean? You look like part of a gang, Rebel. You're the type. But the rest of the boys are meeting the boss, aren't they? James Marlowe. They've got to get him off a train. Now I know you've got to be cooled. You should have stayed in New York after you went through Lang's office this morning. I kept talking to keep Rebel's mind on me and away from Mark. I didn't know what kind of a playmark would make, but he was at the wheel and I had a count on him to come up with something. He did. It was a 10-ton truck parked in front of a highway diner. Hey, Rebel, ever hit a 10-ton truck at 90 miles an hour? No, smart guy. Well, you're gonna smart guy. Rebel had a natural reaction. He forgot us, leaned on the door handle and jumped. Look out! You missed that truck by an inch, Mark. Yeah, yeah, but Rebel didn't. He hit it on the fly when he jumped. There won't be enough left to blot up. We better get back to the burlacue review, Mark. I've got to hunt you gypsies giving her farewell performance this evening. Here's Laurie's dressing room, Mark. Wait. Yeah, sure. I've been expecting you. Tired of running, Laurie? Yes. Your husband isn't gonna get off that train, baby. The gang will be picked up, too. I know. Burton called me. He made me feel like... all it was rotten. I did it because I had to. Your husband wasn't gonna let you enjoy the comforts of life while he wasted a whale in jail, was he? Yes. He let me take the radio job because he thought it might be able to buy his way out with the money. Out of a federal pen? He was dreaming. I know. He had Rebel and the other boys watching me. Gave them orders to keep me working in burlesque, to make things rough for me. So I'd never forget what a bad time he was having. The only way you could get off was to get him out. Is that right? You figured it. If I quit or tried to run, he said he'd have me brought in for the post office job. He couldn't testify, but the clerk saw me, too. I better call the police, baby. You don't have to, Rayce. I called them myself. I... I'm just waiting. Leave me alone. Will you please, Rayce? Sure. Well, what's the matter, Rayce? I just saw the farewell performance. I didn't enjoy it. Well, here comes Millie. Hello, Millie. I was hoping you'd be around. Why? I wanted to tell you that your boyfriend, Rebel, met with a fatal accident tonight. My boyfriend? You're out of your mind. Oh, no, I'm not. He knew I'd been to Barney Lang's office. That's a bit of information only you could have given him. So sue me, Rayce. Who killed Barney Lang, baby? Well, since Rebel's gone, I might as well tell you. He did. Can you prove it? I think so. I went down to New York with Rebel. He wanted to see Lang. I waited outside the office. I heard them arguing. Then I heard the shot. You're confused, baby. You tried to sell Lang information. You told him about Lori's husband and the setup, but he wouldn't stand for a shakedown. So you shot him. I told you my version. I'll stick to it. Your story has a hole in it. You couldn't have heard an argument from outside Lang's office because the office is soundproofed. You! Well, thanks for the gun, Millie. Now we'll take you down to the local jail. They'll let you strip there, and they'll even let you take a shower. Then they'll give you something simple to wear. From now on. John McKee and Ken Harvey. This series is written and directed by Buckley Angel and Joel Murcott. The music is composed and played by Ivan Dittmarz. Be sure to be with us again this same time next week for another dramatic chapter in the Adventures of Frank Race. Art Gilmore speaking. This is a Brucell's production.