 Hello, Yukon 208209. Yes, this is Candy Mattson. The national broadcasting company presents Candy Mattson, Yukon 208209. This is the start of a mystery. Our main character is a San Francisco girl detective, Candy Mattson. There are others in the show too. An inspector mallard, a gent who calls himself Rembrandt Watson, a cowboy, a dude ranch owner, and a gal the casting agency assured us was a dowager, slightly boozy. There are a few other voices along the way too. I think that has all the makings of a good mystery show, don't you? Well, let's go on from here and find out. So, here's Candy Mattson. Like the man just said, this is the start of a mystery. Christmas had me completely tuckered out. No one had invited me to the Rose Bowl game or what the east-west keys are, so I decided to make like a bear and hibernate over New Year's. It worked out perfectly because my old friend Rembrandt Watson put it. You wish to be 1950 in some remote spot, is that the idea, Darv? That's the idea, Ducky. I have a perfect place for you. A dude ranch, reasonable, just on the other side of Sonoma, in the Valley of the Moon. Valley of the Moon. New Year's Eve in the Valley of the Moon. Rembrandt, that sends me. Good. Maybe it can send us both. I have a commission to take some pictures up there for a brochure they're putting out. I have to be there tomorrow afternoon. I see you are nibbling at the bait. I shall be blunt. Why don't you drive me up? You've won your point. I'll pick you up tomorrow at what time? Let us be spectacular and say hi noon. Hi noon. And do bring some cash. Will you, girl? I'm a little short. I thought you were going out there on a commission. Yes, I am. But they have some simply divine one-arm devices. And? And there goes my commission. Naturally, a girl has to look right. To welcome in the New Year. That gave me the perfect excuse to squander a few hard-earned dollars and cents on some lovely clothes that didn't make sense, but cost dollars. The afternoon was aging gracefully. A little gray here and a wrinkle or two there. So I stopped for a parfait, very dry and no olive. With that mission accomplished, I headed back over Carney Street. And as I wheeled past Portsmouth Square in the Hall of Justice, I realized I hadn't seen my charm Mallard in quite some time. It's Victor Ray Mallard of San Francisco Homicide, a very smart cop who can smell a clue a mile away. But when it comes to me, he very conveniently carries his own fog around. Well, candy, my little cupcake. Mallard, dear, you called me your little cupcake. Sure, it's still the Christmas season. Let's be charitable, I always say. What do you always say? In a situation like this, nothing. I just exude a stream of steam from the top of my head. Very cute. What brings you around our boarding house? You, darn it. I thought you might like to know I'm going away for a week. What did they get you on? Petty theft? Yeah. And they got me as I tried to make my getaway on a tricycle. But for your information, Inspector, I'm spending my New Year's Eve up in the Valley of the Moon. Oh, want to get away from it all, huh? That's right. You in particular. In that case, may I get you a midwinter vacation off to a flying star? You can try. How? I'm not working tonight. How's about a movie? You've got yourself a date. What's playing? Text-A cup. That's what I thought. Where's Tex and his faithful horse Mustard playin' this time? Well, at the Plaza. And the pictures of Pip, too. Oh, dad. I read all about it. Yeah. Hot lead over Laredo. Look, here's the ad in the paper. Oh, I can't wait to see it. Show me. Yeah. A searing epic of the West's wild grandeur. Men as rugged as the mountain. A singing saga of scorching bullets, strumming guitars and supple senoritas. And starring the champ of the cowboys. Text-A cup. Oh, what more can one ask in a motion picture? Popcorn. Oh, we'll have that, too. I went home, did some packing for the trip the next day. Fixed something to eat, and then changed into my spurs at Jingle-Jangle for Text-A cup. Mallowed a ride. We took off. We got to the early show, so we managed to get some good seats. Of course, he wasn't kidding about the popcorn. He got a great big bag of that. Fumbled our way down the darkened island, found a place to sit. The movie was almost over. Oh, that's the whole thing. Looks like a gosh-dang-fram up to me. I am an old reindeer in you. Here, Katie. These seats are okay. They must have gone out of way, all right. Oh, I'm sorry, lady. So am I. These seats are okay. Oh, uh, have some popcorn. No, no. Oh, it's so good. What? I said sure is good popcorn. Oh, sure. You don't want some? What? I said, are you sure you don't want some popcorn? I keep saying no. No, thank you. I don't want popcorn, my dear. If you'll pardon me. I'm going home and catch this on television. After hot lead over Laredo, I suffered through six reels of a bouncy college picture. Freshmen looked like holdovers from the early days of the war. Then a news reel. Then a cartoon. Then the trailer. Then again, Texaca. Well, we got out about midnight, and I drove Mallard back to the Hall of Justice. As he got out of the car. Oh, wow. Oh, now that's what I call sharp dialogue. On leaving the lady, all he can say is, oh, wow. Oh, nothing personal, Candy. Now, I like that. Well, I was just thinking, you're going up to the Valley of the Moon for a rest. Is that the idea? Well, yes. That and trying to get away from Texaca. I know you too well, Candy. You're not going to have any rest. Look at the headline on that paper in the newsstand there. Man missing in Sonoma Mystery. And Sonoma can have it. Mallard, dear, if I so much as step inside the Sonoma City Limits, you can come and lead me away quietly. You know something? I'm going to remember that. Mallard waved goodbye and went inside. I didn't like the way he said that. But I had other things to think about, such as getting home and getting some sleep. So I did. And in the morning, I drove over to California Street, picked up Rembrandt. We headed out across the Golden Gate Bridge up toward Sonoma. The Valley of the Moon wasn't too far. A couple of hours of leisurely driving, with time out for readjustment. And you're there. Then another eight miles north and east, and there was the Dude Ranch. This is it, dear. What do you think of it? Perfect. Just perfect. Wait, Rembrandt, it's a real ranch. Of course, Darv, a going concern. They only take in guests as a sideline. Oh, here comes the man. I imagine that's Mr. Larran, the owner. Oh, well, I'll shut off the motor. Good morning. How do you do, sir? Would you be Mr. Larran's perchance? Yes, and you? Watson. Rembrandt, Watson. I'm here to take some pictures for you as we discussed via the bell system. Oh, yes, Watson. Right on time. That's good. Oh, candy. May I present Mr. Larran's owner of the double L, Miss Matson. How do you do? Miss Matson was wondering if she could get accommodation for about a week, Mr. Larran's. What? Now, wait a minute, Watson. I'm paying you a substantial fee for this job and I won't get stuck with non-paying guests. Oh, I think you're laboring under a misapprehension. Hold it, Rembrandt. Look, Mr. Larran, I'm here as a commercial guest. I'm not asking for any favors. And I doubt if I'd stay here now if you got down on your bended knuckles. Oh, now, wait a second. I didn't mean it just that way. I apologize. It's only that, well, I've had some tough luck with people lately who seem to be only two intend on beating me out of their bills. Please, Miss Matson, excuse me. I just jumped to conclusions, that's all. I think you set a new record for the jump. Oh, forget it, though. Do. Okay, I'm sorry. Do you have room for me, Mr. Larran? Oh, yes, yes, of course. A delightful cabin just in back of the ranch house. Not being prepared, it'll take about an hour to get it in shape. Will that be all right? Yes, sure. We can eat in the meantime. Fine. I'll get one of the boys to fetch your luggage. Oh, you can park over there under the old stables. Oh, no garage? Again, I have to apologize, Miss Matson. The garage is overloaded now. We have a sheriff's posse up here. The old of the ranch next to mine disappeared yesterday afternoon. The sheriff is searching the entire vicinity around here. Doug, are you all right? Well, speak to me, girl. What is it? I'm all right. I just happened to think of something mallard once said last night. I pushed my assembled horsepower into the stables where they belonged, and Rembrandt took me by the arm and steered me into the ranch house. It was a beautiful place. A tall, cathedral-like living room with a crackling fireplace about the size of daddy's inferno at one end. Off to this one side of the fireplace was a cozy little bar. The sun was just going over the yard arm, so I figured an old-fashioned would be quite in order. Old-fashioned was right. Behind the bar was the personification of an old-fashioned cowboy. Real shafts, a leathery face, and little squint wrinkles around his eyes. Well, howdy, Tick. It seems like as if I done tore you in a movie last night. Howdy yourself, ma'am. Nope. Must have been two other cowboys. I've been working here at the double L for almost five years. Mama's steak, partner. Matt says to handle what you earn. Is that the way cowboys talk, ma'am? Yeah. Hollywood and vine variety. I'm glad to know you. Call me Jeff, Miss Madsen. This is Rembrandt Watson. Rembrandt? Jeff. Are those shoulders sewn in, or are they real? I'm afraid they're real. Hiya, Mr. Watson. You riding herd on all those bottles back there, Jeff? Yep, for better or worse. Chang, our regular bartender, took powder on his day before yesterday. Uh-oh. Seems like he picked a bad time to do a run-off. Oh, you mean the missing Jeff from Glen Valley? Glen Valley? Yeah, that's the ranch next hour. I understand the police are on the lookout for Chang, but he didn't do it. He's a good, honest Chinese boy. Even so, it's a bad time to disappear. Oh, I admit it doesn't sound good. Well, few folks won't mind the efforts of an amateur dispenser. What can I do for you? An old-fashioned for me, Jeff. Well, I can try. From now on, it gets easier. Rembrandt only wants to cope. Well, I can fix that all right. Uh-oh. Here comes the Duchess. The Duchess? Yeah, one of our guests. She's been here about two weeks, and she can go through distilled spirits faster than a buzzsaw through mushy pine. And I hope you're prepared to talk. Always, always. Hello, my dear. You just arrived, haven't you? Mentally or physically? Oh, my! A sense of humor, too. I shall enjoy your company. Are you staying long? Well, I'm not sure now. My plans are rather indefinite. Oh, you'll love it here, Miss... Met. And may I present Mr. Rembrandt Watson? Charmed, I'm sure. Now, me life has come in. Oh, you delightful lad. Jeff, dear boy. Make me just a little nip for the old favorites, will you? Sure. One painkiller coming up. Here's your old-fashioned, Miss Matson. Thank you. Mr. Watson, your coat. Young lady, you must be an actress. You look like what? No, I'm not. I used to be an actress, sort of a famous one. I toured all over the continent with the greatest of stars, the finest of play. I was the toast of London, Berlin, Vienna. Yes, but I... I had kings and princess who were shipping at my feet. Oh. I was once the vortex of an international incident. But no matter, those days are gone forever now. I... Here's your tani. Oh, thank you, Jeff. Well, as we used to say, here's to crime. What was that? It's a perfect toast. We have quite a mystery in this part of the country, young lady. I can't understand. Mr. Ferguson had everything to live for. Mr. Ferguson? The man who owned Glen Valley. Well-said, good-looking, in the best of health. You seem to know quite a bit about the gentleman, Duchess. Only what I read in the newspaper, and I can't understand it. Well, as I said, here's to crime. We dallied at the bar for a few more moments. Then Jeff informed me that lunch was ready and Rembrandt and I ate. We managed to duck the Duchess. I don't think I could have taken her with food. After lunch, Lawrence showed me to my cabin. It was, as he said, delightful with a warming flame in the fireplace. It was cheery and comfy, and I felt completely at home. Lawrence left to talk to Rembrandt. They were going to discuss the pictures he wanted taken. I felt like going riding, so I changed into my jeans and started to leave. But as I did... Oh, sorry, Miss Madsen. I didn't mean to frighten you. You did, Jeff. I was just about to knock when you opened the door. You were in riding clothes, and that answers my question. The question being... Well, were you going riding? You see, the boss wanted to know if you were going riding, and if so, did you want some company? I usually show the guests around the acreage. Well, yes, that'd be wonderful. And how long do you want to be out, Miss Madsen? About three hours or so. Sure. In that case, we'll take the Deluxe tour over across the back 16 up through Manzanita Canyon. You know, when we get up to the top of Iron Mountain, there's a whole valley of the moon. That's for me, Jeff. Let's hit the leather. Jeff was obviously born to the saddle and came into this world teething on a tether rain. He couldn't tell where the horse left off, and Jeff began a real rider. We nosed out through the clump of ranch buildings and on into open space. I had a fine horse under me, and I really felt like I was living. We'd been riding about an hour when we came across a little stream. How long have you been a cowboy, Jeff? Oh, about as long as I can remember. Around here? No, up around Montana. Little by little, I gradually drifted further west. Hit upon the valley of the moon about five years ago. Fell in love with it. I've been here ever since. Reckon I'll stay here, too. No, I don't blame you. Excuse me if I seem to be full of questions, Jeff. Well, that's what I'm here for, man. Good. Because I've got a couple more. What's up that little draw there on the other side of the creek? Nothing but a tangle of manzanita. Scrub oak and brush. Pretty hard to get to there, huh? Hard. It's impossible. Well, I've seen chipmunks get fouled up in that draw. Uh-huh. Then how come those boot prints are going right up there? Boot prints? I don't see any. Well, hey, you're right. Either boot prints are the result of shoes with Cuban heels. Well, now, there is a strange one. Exactly what I thought. Say, you know something just dawned on me? Matt said, didn't I see your pictures in the fiscal papers a couple of weeks back? San Francisco. Big party. San Francisco. Oh, yeah, San Francisco. Excuse me. Sure. You know, the way you was asking those questions just now, it hit me. You're a detective. I'm afraid you got me, partner. Uh-oh. Wait a minute, Miss Matt. Listen. That's tough, Jeff. Too late now. Wow. Well, there. What are you doing over this way, Jeff? Hi, boss. Well, sir, you give us quite a little start. You haven't answered my question. Oh, we just stopped the wall of the horses, Mr. Lawrence. Miss Mattson, here's the mighty fine rider if you wanted to make the big circle of the rent. Well, you certainly picked a fine time to do it. Well, Sheriff Poffy is out around this way. Your lively gets shot. Now get back to the ranch, pronto. Just a moment, Mr. Lawrence. You've been uncivil ever since I got here, and I don't like to be dictated to. It's like being on board ship, Miss Mattson. The captain is the law. I am the owner of this property, and you'll do as I say. Now get moving, both of you. And if you don't like my attitude, you can leave anytime you want. Leave? Now? Yes. Oh, no, Mr. Lawrence. I'm beginning to find your ranch extremely interesting. Jeff and I have wheeled our horses about and sifted back to the ranch house. I looked back a couple of times, but there was no sign of Lawrence. I was mad, and Jeff must have sensed it because he was smart enough to keep his mouth closed. As I dismounted at the stables and headed for the house, he waved me a forlorn adios and disappeared. Just as I went through the door, I was greeted by Rembrandt. Oh, there you are. I was about to institute a searching party for you. Oh, I was safe enough until I gained the grips with a thing called my own temper. Have you been doing ducky? I've had a most delightful afternoon in Candida. I've been playing canasta with the duchess. Canasta? Oh, you don't know how to play canasta. I know that, and you know it, but I don't think the duchess does. She celebrates each hand with a hefty pull on her bitters. Why did you manage to make any sense out of the game? Well, that has me puzzled too. All I do is put down some cards, any cards, and she'd congratulate me. Maybe you've got a green thumb for the game. Incidentally, I thought you were going to be taking pictures this afternoon. Call off and account for the law. Hmm? Mr. Lawrence had to ride out into the Lone Prairie and deliver a phone message to the sheriff. He's making like ghost riders in the sky out there. Do go and change, dear. The smell of horses. Yes, I know. Incidentally, the way to have a soiree this evening, two more guests arrived. The crook tells me that to be a little entertainment after dinner. Good. Around here, anything will be an improvement. I didn't tell Rembrandt I was going to change, so it wasn't a fib when I stayed in my jeans. I went back to the stables, got the boy to rig me another horse, and headed out toward that creek again. I rode fast at this time, because I'd noticed something else there besides the boot print. It was a battered 10-gallon hat on the far side of the creek with studded initials J.F. on the crown. But when I got there, the cupboard was bare, but good. Not only was the 10-gallon hat gone, but the boot prints had been completely obliterated. I stayed for another few minutes of study and frustration, and then went back to the ranch. I changed, met Rembrandt, had dinner, and then we relaxed in the living room. Oh, Dove, I'm so full. This outdoor living makes me ravenous. Outdoors? I don't think you've stepped out of this building since we got here. Well, then it's the thought of outdoor living that does it. Oh, there are the new arrivals. I'm a lot of fire. Did you meet them? No. They looked at me as though I might soil their escutcheon, whatever that is. I can see what you mean. Hi, folks. Do you enjoy your dinner? Oh, hello, Jeff. Yes, it was wonderful. Has anybody seen Mr. Lawrence, or the Duchess? We haven't seen Lawrence, no. The Duchess is over there writing a letter. Oh, well, I hope you'll all drop around in about an hour. I'm going to do some singing and a little guitar plucking. Is there anything you don't do, Jeff? No, very little. But none of them too during good, either. Sure, we'll be here. Won't we, Rembrandt? Well, yes, I go with three diamonds and a joke card. Jeff left, Rembrandt snoozed, and I threw a wrap around my shoulders and took a stroll around the patio. The air felt good. I went over to my cabin and picked up some cigarettes and started back. But as I came close to the cabin opposite mine, it was the Duchess. I recognize those tones and groans anywhere. Duchess? Yes. This is Candy Metz. Are you all right? Yes, I'm all right. Duchess indigestion, I should imagine. Is there anything I can do? Can I get you something? Oh, what a dear thing you are. No, I'll be all right. I have these attacks all the time. You run along and enjoy yourself. Jeff is going to sing. He's such a dear boy. But you're sure you'll be okay? Yes, yes, dear. We'll go along. Oh, here. Now, let me put a blanket over you. A hair and take off your shoes. You'll be ever so much more comfortable. You're so sweet. So pretty. You remind me of myself when I was young. Thank you. Thank you so much. I took the old girl in and left her to dream of the past and went back to the ranch house. Jeff was just pulling up a chair in front of the fireplace. Well, you'll have to understand, folks. I'm not a singer. I don't pretend to be. I just wobble along the way I feel. Is there any particular kind of cowboy tune you'd like to hear? No, Jeff. I don't just sing a favorite of yours. Good idea. Just do what comes naturally. Okay, you asked for it. Let's sing. Here's one I think you might like. Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie where the coyotes howl and the wind blows free in a narrow grave just six by three. But bury me. Oh, hiya, bar. Oh, I'm sorry, Jeff. Go right on with what you were doing. No, Mr. Lawrence. You arrived just in time. The entertainment's over. What? What are you talking about, Miss Matthew? I said the show's over. Is the sheriff around? Yeah, it's seen as men are outside. They're just leaving for the night. You better call him back right now. The Duchess is dead in her cabin. What? Poisoned. Wait a minute. Sheriff, Sheriff Hop. Yes, you learned. That's right. Can you and your men come back for a spell? Seems we have more trouble. Okay, we'll be over as soon as we tie up the horse. Now, David, what's this all about? Well, I could tell you learned, but I think it'd be more proper coming from the star himself. Don't you think so, Jeff? Looks like this is it, doesn't it? You're smart, Miss Mattson. Like they say in that ad, you never underestimate the power of a woman. That's right. That letter the Duchess wrote proves your point. What? How'd you get hold of that letter? I thought I... She wrote a duplicate, is that it? Like you say, never underestimate the power of a woman. Wait a moment. I don't understand what's going on here. Go ahead, Miss Mattson, you tell me. Looks like I'm not the star any longer. Well, Lawrence, up to about two weeks ago, you had as nice and gentle a cow folk working for you as there ever was. When the Duchess arrived, she wasn't kidding when she claimed to have mingled with nobility, important people. The matter of fact, she had an inside tip about your ranch and the one next door, Ferguson's place, Glen Valley. Didn't you receive a fantastic offer for your property from a big wine company just recently, Lawrence? Why, yes, I did. So did Ferguson. They were going to merge the two places and make it one of the world's largest vineyards. I didn't know about that part of it. That's what Duchess did. She wanted in on the ground floor. That's why she came out here. She tried to talk business with Ferguson, but he'd have none of it. So in one of her boozy moments, she hit upon the idea of doing away with Ferguson. But she didn't have the nerve to go through with it. That's when she approached Jeff here and cut him in on the deal. Jeff was tired of the poor but honest cowboy routine, saw a chance to make some heavy sugar and went along with the gag. Right, Jeff? She got it straight so far, boss. Jeff, I can't believe my ears. Nothing. Just wait a while. Jeff and the Duchess were out riding one afternoon when, by chance, Ferguson rode up, too, just where the boundaries of the two ranches meet. While the Duchess talked to Ferguson, Jeff sneaked around in back and bashed in his head. They hauled him up to that bra where you bumped into us this afternoon. I know now why you ordered us out of there. On the other side of that snarl of brush in Manzanita, there's a quicksand pit. That is now Ferguson's permanent residence. This is terrible, terrible. In a hurry to dispose of your late neighbor, they left shoe prints along the bank of the creek. And they also overlooked Ferguson's hat with his initials on it. I'm mighty glad you came by when you did lie. After I had noticed the boot prints, I think Jeff was going to dump me into the quicksand, too. You're right again. After the boss sent us back in, I sort of figured it'd get to you tonight instead. And then, Lawrence, you were going to be next. Because in your will, you would name Jeff as your sole heir, is that right? That, that's right. I love him like a son. Then the Duchess and Jeff could have swung a hard bargain with that wine outfit. All very smooth except for one thing. One thing? I'm kind of curious about that one thing, Miss Manzanita. Alcohol, Jeff. It's not only lifting to begin with, but also acts as a depressing agent. The Duchess had been inviting all day, and after dinner, she arrived at that point of depression, realized what a horrible thing she had done, and she wrote the full story about the wine company and Jeff's duplicity, and made a copy. You were afraid of that yourself, Jeff. That's when you went out and slipped the old girl a lethal Mickey. I heard her groaning and went in to investigate. She said it was indigestion, but I knew differently. Her breath. And I knew, too, that she'd be dead within five minutes. Then I saw her shoes. Cuban heels with mud caked on the inner side of the arch. That's when I had to hunch the letter she was writing had a definite meaning. You overlooked it, Jeff. I found it. Where only a woman would think of looking. Tucked inside her bosom. I'm sorry, Lauren. I had you figure wrong from the start. I was the one who was wrong. You weren't hard at all. You're a softest type. Well, Jeff? Here comes the sheriff. Yeah, so I see. Well, I'm ready for him. He can't beat a royal flush with a pair of deuces. How should I say? Dunce it. I'll go. There won't be any fun. And all of a sudden, it dawns on me. People should accept their loss. You're born to be a cowboy. Just stay a cowboy. And if you're born a millionaire, don't fight that either. Well, goodbye, Miss Madsen. And I'm glad the boss happened along when he did. I don't think quick standard looked good on me. Like Jeff said, he went quiet. No trouble. Too bad he wasn't content to be just a ranch hand. Simple and unpoiled. Because as Rembrandt had noticed, he did have wonderful shoulders. He played the guitar, he sang, and he made final fashion. All in all, a very nice guy except for two vices, hitting from the behind and poisoning. The valley of moon? Oh, I'll go back. It's lovely. After all, one man with a snarl brain can't undo the work of the original master painter. Listen again next week at this same time for excitement and adventure just dialed Candy Madsen, Yukon 208-209. Heard tonight were Helen Plebe as the Duchess, Lou Tobin as Lawrence, and Clancy Hayes as Jeff. Henry Leff is Inspector Mallard in Jack Thomas' Rembrandt. The program stars Natalie Masters as Candy and is written and produced by Monty Masters. Sound effects were created by Bill Brownell and J. Rendon. Eloise Rowan is heard at the organ. The characters in tonight's story are entirely fictitious, and any resemblance to actual people is purely coincidental. The program came to you from San Francisco. Dudley Manlove speaking. You are tuned for the stars on NBC.