Episode 658 - Statues for the Sleuths: Frank Sinatra (Rocky Fortune)

Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker's road, and those who travel it wind up in the gutter of the prison of the grave. The story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. The Adventures of Sam Spade, Detective. The Adventures of the Saint, starring Vincent Price. Bob Bailey in the exciting adventures of the man with the action-packed expense account. America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Hello, and welcome to Down These Mean Streets and more old-time radio detectives and crime solvers. In just a few weeks, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences will hand out Oscars to the best films, actors, and craftspeople of the year in movies. To celebrate all this month, we're shining a spotlight on radio detective stars who took home Oscars for their big-screen work. And today we're kicking off with a man who's better known for his singing than his acting, but who was no slouch in the dramatic department. It's Frank Sinatra, old blue eyes himself, who had a single-season stint as a sleuth on radio as Rocky Fortune. The show was created for Sinatra by writer George Lefferts, who wrote most of the episodes along with Ernest Kanoy. Those two men were also heavily involved with scripts for the NBC sci-fi anthology Dimension X. Rocky Fortune was an amiable jack-of-all-trades who was frequently unemployed and in search of work. Each week, his new job inevitably put him in the middle of a mystery, and he had to use his wits to make it out alive and to avoid being blamed for the crime by the thick-headed Sergeant Hamilton J. Finger of the New York Police Department. Over the course of his single season on the air, Rocky's jobs included short-order cook, tour guide, cruise ship steward, messenger, and oyster shucker, and each time he landed in hot water. Interestingly, it was Sinatra's Oscar win as Best Supporting Actor for his work in From Here to Eternity that brought Rocky Fortune to a close. When Sinatra signed on for the series, he was in a bit of a career slump, in between record labels and recently divorced from Ava Gardner after a whirlwind romance and marriage. So the prospect of a steady paycheck from a weekly radio series was appealing in a way it wouldn't have been a few years earlier, and certainly wasn't after he won an Academy Award. Rocky Fortune had a very short life on radio, but it stands out as Frank Sinatra's only regular radio series role, and a show that made good use of his talents, as Rocky could be both charming and tough all in the same 30 minutes. Today we'll hear four episodes of the show, a sampler that shows off the range of stories and features great acting from Sinatra. We'll start off with an episode known as Double Identity from October 13th, 1953, then A Hepcat Killed the Canary from November 17th, 1953, Murder Among the Statues from December 1st, 1953, and the final episode of the show, an episode that aired less than a week after Sinatra's Oscar win. It's Boarding House Double Cross from March 30th, 1954. The chairman of the board takes the stage as Rocky Fortune, and the curtain goes up right after these messages. Here's sensational news for shavers. A terrific money-saving offer on Colgate Shave Cream and Eversharp Schick Injector Razor. Listen, for only 89 cents, Colgate offers you, one, a genuine Eversharp Schick Injector Razor whose retail value alone is $1, two, an injector with 10 blades, and three, a large-sized tube of Colgate Shave Cream, either Colgate Brushless or Colgate Lather. And you get all this for only 89 cents. Right. Man, here's your chance to get the ideal shaving combination at tremendous savings. 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Because they're light and finer textured, Colgate shave creams completely surround, soften, and support each bristle better than greasy, heavy creams. Your razor doesn't skid or slip, but when you use Colgate brushless, it cuts through clean and smooth. Try it tonight. And here's a word from RCA Victor. Last week, the curtain went up on the 75th anniversary of the National Baseball League and the 50th anniversary of the American League. There's no better way to celebrate than by enjoying at first hand the thrills and the clean sportsmanship of baseball today. Baseball today. It's the American way. Of course, the next best thing to a seat in a stand is a seat in front of a 19-inch RCA Victor television. RCA Victor's new extra-powerful picture pickup gives you the best possible reception everywhere. You know RCA Victor television is most in demand. But here's really important news. RCA Victor 19-inch television is available. It's on display now at dealer stores. So insist on the best. Insist on seeing 19-inch million-proof television by RCA Victor. When you do, you'll agree, inch for inch, your best buy in television is RCA Victor 19-inch. Good evening. This is your Rexall family druggist with a welcome from the 10,000 independent druggists who have made the word Rexall part of our own store names. We've done that because we recommend and sell the 2,000 or more drug products made by the Rexall Drug Company. Like Rexall milk of magnesia, for example. Here's the milk of magnesia that's so pure and creamy smooth, so free from that unpleasant, earthy taste. Even children spot the difference. Ask for the Rexall milk of magnesia at Rexall drugstores everywhere. And remember, you can depend on any drug product that bears the name Rexall. I dedicate this program to the fight against crime. Not merely crimes of violence and crimes of dishonesty, but crimes of intolerance, discrimination, and bad citizenship. Crimes against America. Frank Sinatra, transcribed as Rocky Fortune. NBC presents Frank Sinatra, starring as that footloose and frequently unemployed young gentleman, Rocky Fortune. Hi. I don't know about you, but I'm the kind of guy who can't stay put. I get restless. Give me a nice soft job, a buck in my pocket, and a meal ticket. And one will get you ten, I'll quit the job, lose the buck on the GGs, and exchange the meal ticket for a train ticket. You take last week, for instance. The employment agency sends me down to Houston Street for a job as a chauffeur. Hey, Mac. This 159 Houston. Yeah, what do you want? Somebody wants to hire a chauffeur. A chauffeur? I made a joke. You take a look around this neighborhood, mister. Who do you think got money for a chauffeur? Not even for food, he got money. Look, all I know is the agency got a call for a chauffeur. Five foot nine, thin, chauffeur's license, must be able to wear pre-cut uniform. You got the wrong blade. 159 Houston, sixth floor. This is 159 Houston. My name is Zikonik. I'm the janitor. You take a look how many floors we got, eh? Maybe they meant fifth floor. I better go up. Go ahead. Let me know if you're getting a job, eh? This don't look like chauffeur land to me, but I figure I already blew a subway token to get here, so I leg it up four flights of stairs left over from a Charles Adams cartoon. As I am rounding the turn of flight number five, a funny-looking little guy steps out of the shadows. Hey, buddy. Yeah? You got change for a buck? Sure. Here. Thanks. Hey. Huh? Where's the clam? Here. Oh. Now, I've been rowed before, but this guy works on my skull like he's a Sherman tank in the Aberdeen Proving Grounds. When I come to, I'm in a white room with iron grillwork on the windows. It's morning, which means I made an evening of it. Alongside my bed stands a gorilla in a white coat. I figure this place for a pad at Bellevue. I am mistaken. Okay, take it easy, Steve. Oh. How do you feel this morning? Oof. You've had a couple of bad nights, Steve. A couple? What day is this? Tuesday. Holy smokes. I've been out since Saturday. Last week you were pretty good. Only a couple of lapses. Did you say last week? That's right, Steve. The name is Rocky. Rocky Fortune. You're not going to start that again, are you, Steve? Start what? That Rocky Fortune bit. Dr. Harris wouldn't like it. Listen, oh, what a hangover. Take it easy. Look, where am I, Buster? Mount Kenzie Rest Home. Mount Kenzie. Is that in the Bronx? It's near Denver. Denver? Denver, New York? Denver, Colorado. Okay, buddy, if the joke's over, I'll take my clothes and get out of here. Joke, Steve? Joke, Jake. Give me the clothes. I'm afraid I can't do that. Not without Dr. Harris's order. Will you tell a good doctor that Rocky Fortune wants to have a word with him? Now, if you're going to insist on that, Steve, I'm afraid we'll have to try the treatment again. What treatment? Come along. Take the hands off, Buster. You're etching the epidermis. You coming along? Not if I can help it. Okay. Johan's a big guy in the judo department, besides which they got me drugged like a hypochondriac with a third-degree hangnail. He drags me into a white-tire room and starts to massage my head with a fist like a sledgehammer. Only this bum's got a new wrinkle. First he puts a pail on my head, and then he hits the pail. After 20 minutes of this, I begin to feel like the main bell on St. Mary's Christmas morning. Just when I think I can't take it anymore, a gray-haired guy with a scarred face ambles in. All right, Johan, all right. That's enough. Take the pail off his head. Oh. How do you feel, Stephen? Oh, just dandy. Johan is so impulsive. Repulsive. Would you like a cigarette? Yeah. How about get me out of this polo coat? Yes, in a moment. First, I want to see if you've come to your senses. Look, would you mind telling me what this is all about? One minute I'm being rolled in a hallway in New York City, and the next minute I wake up in Denver, Colorado. Stephen, you've been here at Mount Kenzie for eight years. My name is Rocky, born Rocco Fortunato. Your name is Stephen Crandall III. Eight years ago, you were thrown from a polo pony and sustained a head injury. You suffered from delusions. You've been under treatment here. Come on, Doc. What's the ransom? Ransom? How much do I have to raise to get out of here? You see, Johan, he's still very sick. Poor fellow. Yes. I'm afraid we'll just have to continue the treatment. All right, Johann, put the pail on his head. Now, once again, what's your name? Rocky. And if you don't like it, you can... All right, Johann. Now we'll try it once more. Your name. Go jumping. Johann. Name. That's enough, Johann. Very well, young man. Your name. Stephen. Stephen what, please? Stephen Crandall III. Your age? 32. How long have you been here? Eight years. Why did you come here? Polo accident. Good, good. And now once again, your name. Crandall. Stephen Crandall. By the time Johan and the phony doctor decided to call it a night, they almost had me convinced I was Stephen Crandall. Pardon me, the third. They doped me up again for the night, and next morning we cover the course again. Good morning, Stephen. Ah, you slept well. I had a funny dream. So? I dreamed I was a guy named Rocky Fortune. I dreamed I went to apply for a job as a chauffeur in New York City and somebody slapped me. Pretty funny, huh? But you understand it was only a dream. Oh, sure. I'm happy to hear that. You see, today we have a surprise for you. Can you guess? I get a new pale. No jokes? No jokes. Check. What's the surprise? You're going home. I thought you said no jokes. This isn't a joke, Stephen. I feel you're ready to leave at last. We're going to let you go home. On trial, of course. Now, at the first sign of your delusion that you are someone other than Stephen Crandall, I'm afraid you'll have to return. When do I fly? Tomorrow morning. Johan will accompany you. I get another shot of Essence, a vampire, and wake up next morning feeling as strong as a mouse. Before I know what happens, they hustle me into a black Duesenberg and drive toward Denver. About two miles out of town, we cut up a winding private road and stop in front of a 28-room bungalow. The doc and Johan walk me to the door, close enough so I can feel the muzzle of Johan's .45 caressing my spine. The door is opened by a medium-sized butler right out of Dickens, with side whiskers and all. Yes, gentlemen. Hello, Deems. Why, it's Dr. Harris and Mr. Stephen. We weren't expecting you so early. Mr. Stephen, how are you? Speak up, Steve. Hmm? Oh, fine, Deems, the old man. Just peachy. Come in, sir. Come in. Welcome home. Thanks. Have a seat, Mr. Stephen. I'll inform Miss Laurie your home. I lower myself into a chunk of Chippendale and wait. My head aches and everything looks like a 3D movie without glasses. After a couple of minutes through the blur, I see a dame come floating down a staircase. Even in my weak condition, I can appreciate that she's got more curves than the Jersey Turnpike. She takes one look and comes on like gangbusters. Steve, darling. Oh, darling, darling. Sis, this is your wife, Steve. He's still a bit confused, Laura. I understand, Doctor. Oh, it's good to have you home, Steve. Kiss me again, darling. You know something, baby? It's good to be home. We go into a clinch again, and I am just beginning to enjoy my new identity when Deemsey clears his adenoids and announces... Excuse me, Miss Laura. Judge Harley is calling. The judge here? Dr. Harris, is it all right? Judge Harley is an old friend of the family, isn't he? Yes, he's known Stephen since he was a boy. Well, I think it'll be all right. Just behave yourself, Stephen. Oh, sure. Very well, Deems. Show him in. Yes, ma'am. Remember, Stephen. How can I forget? This way, Your Honor. Laura. Well, well, well, and Stephen. Heard you were coming home, but I didn't expect I'd actually find you here. How are you, my boy? Great, great. Let me look at you. Oh, he's changed, Laura. Thin. Or to eat more. Well, I expect eight years in a way can change a man. Even eight hours can do it. Very thin indeed. Do I hate to see a thin man or a woman? This is Dr. Harris from the rest home and his assistant, Mr. Fiddler, Judge Harley, gentlemen. How do you do, Judge? I won't intrude. I just dropped by to see how you were progressing with your personal bankruptcy. My attorney will file in a week or so, Judge. Yes, well, it mustn't delay too long, you know. As a friend, I'll hold back the flood as long as I can, but creditors will be creditors. Yes. Well, I'll be running along. Stephen, it's been wonderful to see you back in the bosom of your family. You'll fatten him up now, Laura. Hate to see a thin man or woman. Good day. I give the judge a couple of seconds to leg down on his black limousine, which I can see through the French window. I toss a haymaker at Johan and pull an Esther Williams through the casement. I land in a bramble patch, snatch, just as the judge gets to his car. Judge! Judge Harley! Hold it, hold it. Steven! What is it? Get in the car. I can't talk now. Come on, let's get going. But Steven, I... Look, I'm not Steven. My name is Rocky Fortune. This whole thing's a big hoax. Now step on it before they get here. Of course, Steve. Rocky. Strange it won't start. The ignition's not on. Okay, hold it. Don't try to get away, Steve. Fat chance. You okay, Judge? What happened? Steve here tried to do away with himself. Right out of the window. Lucky it was the first floor. What was he telling me about being Rocky something or other? Oh, he's Rocky, all right. Judge, listen. Call the Gridley Employment Agency in New York, will you? Steve. You know what I got in my pocket? Now, be a good boy and I'll give you some candy. Okay, man. You win. This time. Sorry to have troubled you, Judge. Come on, Steve. Glad it was of service. Take good care of Steve now. Don't worry about that, Judge. It's thin. Very thin. Johan lugs me back into the house like a piece of stale mackerel and the good doctor immediately slips me a needle full of wink and blink and a nod. There we are. The poor darling, he's all scratched up. Let me take him up to our room. Yeah. My dear, you see how unstable he is. I'm afraid he'd better be in a separate room. Johan will stay with him. But we haven't seen each other for eight years. Yeah. I'm sorry, Laura. As his physician, I... You're no more physician than I am Steve Crandall. Baby, they're trying to put one over on you. I don't know why... Johan. Yes, doctor. Johan puts the muscle on me, and I'm locked into the guest room on the second floor. By the time we reach the door, my head feels like the steam room at an all-night Turkish bath. I get my ear on the pillow and pass out. Rocky. Hmm? It's me, Laura. Hmm. I've been waiting for you. I've arrived. Kiss me, Rocky. Why not? Say. That's nice perfume. I'm glad you like it. Makes me sleepy. Sleep? Smells like... Like... Smells like marsh gas. Shh. Shh. Gas. Gotta... Gotta wake up. Gotta open a window. Come on. Come on, boy. That's the boy crawls. Crawl, boy. That's it. Now the chair. A window. Come on, boy. Steve! Steve, what is it? I was in my room and I heard a crash. Nothing much, baby. Let me get some air. You're sick. I ain't healthy. Turn off that gas heater, will you? Where's Johan? He's downstairs with Dr. Harris. Well, Steve, what happened? Your friend Johan tried to fit me for a casket, that's all. Steve! I am not Steve. Let's get it straight, honey. Before Muscles gets back. My name is Rocky Fortune. I'm a ringer. The Doc and Johan are trying to pass me off as your husband. You ought to know better. I... I do. It's a nice time to say so. I didn't dare. They threatened to murder me. Okay, let's have it. My husband committed suicide in their sanatorium some months ago. He carried very heavy life insurance. Naturally, we couldn't collect on a suicide. Johan and the doctor decided that they wouldn't report the death. They got you to take Steve's place. I begin to get it. I have an accident, you collect double indemnity, and they pry you loose from the money. They forced me into it. Okay, we gotta get out of here, baby. But they'll kill us. Not if they want me to look like an accident, they won't. I'm worth a lot of loot, kid. How can we do it? Is there anybody in the house you can trust? Deans. Fine. Get to them, tell them to have a car ready in front of the house in exactly five minutes. Where's Johan in the dock? Downstairs. Probably giving me plenty of time to soak up the ether. Okay, look. Go down, tell them I'm lying here dead. When they come up, you get out to the car. Got it? Yes. Wish me luck. Good luck, Steve. Rocky. Good luck, Rocky. Soon as Laura leaves, I fix up a dummy out of pillows and stuff it in the bed. And I slip out of the room and hide in an alcove about ten feet away. I wait. A minute later, the doc and Johan come stumbling up the stairs like a thundering herd. I let them rush into the room, take two giant steps and lock the door behind them. Open that door! Open that door! Can't hear you, Uncle. Please! Please open the door! Temper, temper. Open the door. So long, gentlemen. Don't think it hasn't been a pleasure because it hasn't. I am down the steps like a grasshopper in a granary and on my way out when I see the telephone and get a sudden inspiration. Operator. Operator, I want the municipal courthouse. Judge Harley, it's an emergency. I'll connect you with information. I said emergency, baby. If it's an emergency baby, I'll give you the hospital. I'll settle for information. Make it fast. Upstairs I can hear your hand and the doctor making headway with the door and I don have much time to waste on explanations I need something that knock the judge right off his bench and bring him out here in a hurry Hello Judge Harley? Yes? This is Deems, the Crandall Butler. Oh, what is it, Deems? Master Stevens has just murdered the entire family, sir. He's kidnapping me. What? What is this? What's that banging noise? It, uh, dynamite, sir. He's blowing up the house room by room. I think you'd better get out here, sir. Here they come. Deems? Bye. I figured this ought to bring him out on the double, so I write a message on the mirror with Laura's lipstick and leap out to the car one jump ahead of the hounds. Are you all right, Rocky? Fine. What took so long? Had to call my bookmaker and we're sure a bet. What about the doc and Johan? On the inside, looking out. Head for the local constabulary, deems the old sock. Yes, sir. Boy. I spend the next few minutes gazing fondly into Laura Crandall's lavender eyes, and she gazes back. I can see the fine blue blood surge through her cheeks, and on her, a blue surge looks pretty good. I'm ready to surrender to the beast in me when Deemsey makes a screaming turn off the main highway and pulls to a stop ten feet from the edge of a cliff. Hey, what gives? There's been a car following you, sir. I didn't see any car. If I may say so, sir, you weren't paying much attention. All right, all right, let's get going. I'm afraid not, sir. Listen, egghead, I said let's get... You were saying? Put down the gun, Deamsie. I'll give the orders, Mr. Fortune. Get out. Wait a minute. What is this? Just step over to the edge of the cliff, if you please. What if I don't please? You take on weight all of a sudden. He means it, Rocky. Okay. Mind if I ask what happens next, or am I being naive? Next, Mr. Fortune, you accidentally fall off the cliff. The car follows you. Accident. Double indemnity. Exactly. Now, turn around. What makes you think they're going to believe it? You're suicidal. Even Judge Harley saw you go through a window. Very neat. Turn around. We have much time. Okay, okay. Laura, push him over. I... Come on, this is no time to lose your nerve. Steve, I... Push him. I can't do it. All right. Take the gun. I'll do it myself. I hear a car. Stop worrying. All right, Mr. Fortune. That first step looks like a Lulu. Get going. Wait. Wait, listen. A police car. Come on. Okay, hold it. Hold it or I shoot. Steve! Steve, watch out for the cliff! Oh! Oh! Oh, no. Grab her! I've got her. Let me go, let me go. Take it easy, baby. You all right, Mr. Fortune? I'll let you know later. Right now, I'm a little numb. Well, he picked up the car and then lost it again. What convinced you I was telling the truth when I called? I know you weren't Stephen Crandall the first time I laid eyes on you. I also know I couldn't do anything about it at the time. When you phoned me before you left the house a few minutes ago, I'd already checked the employment agency in New York City. You're lucky we picked up the car. What about the guy who fell off the cliff, Judge? Is he dead, Sergeant? I didn't have a chance. Who is he? As far as I know, he's the Crandall Butler. You got it wrong, Judge. You know him? I think if you take off those phony side whiskers, you'll find out he's the guy I was supposed to impersonate, Steve Crandall. What? Blossom here called him Steve just before he took the Brody. Laura, is it Steven? Yes. Why did you do this? We had no money when Steve left the institution. He cooked up this scheme with the doc and Johan to cash in on his own insurance. Next time I answer an ad for a chauffeur, remind me to make sure they want a live chauffeur, not a corpse. Tonight, NBC Radio has presented transcribed Frank Sinatra as that footloose and fancy-free young man known as Rocky Fortune. Others in the cast included Francis Urie, Maurice Hart, Jack Mather, Herb Ellis, Stanley Fraser, Lynn Allen, and Stephen Chase. Andrew C. Love directed. Eddie King speaking. Now to tell you about next week's adventure, here's Frank Sinatra as Rocky Fortune. So that's how come I'm back on unemployment insurance again. Not for long, though. Next week I'll tell you about the next job I had. Stuart on a big luxury line at a Bermuda. I figured I'd like to see the ocean, you know. A couple of guys were trying to help me, too. Only they wanted me to see it the hard way, from the bottom. Next week, then, tune in again when Frank Sinatra returns as Rocky Fortune. We join American business and industry in saluting the National Safety Council and the thousands of safety-minded men and women who are, this week, attending the 41st Annual Safety Council Congress and exposition in Chicago. With the cooperation of business and industry, the National Safety Council is making life in America safer for everyone. Enjoy Fibber McGee and Molly tonight on the NBC Radio Network. Frank Sinatra, transcribed as Rocky Fortune. NBC presents Frank Sinatra as that footloose and fancy-free young gentleman, Rocky Fortune. Hi. When I was a kid, a couple of maiden aunts made me practice a bull fiddle to strengthen my character. It didn't do much for my character because I hocked the fiddle and ran away from home. Every once in a while, though, I got a chance to pick up a couple of bucks playing with a small combo at a Polish wedding or a bar mitzvah. The last job I had was neither. It was more of a funeral. My own. Yeah? Hey, Dad, I want to speak to Rocky for you. You got him. Rock! This is Bugsy. Bugsy Barton. Well, hiya, Jazz boy. Where you been? Me and a cat should bounce a little flea back called the Hotel Zanzibar. You dig that place? I've been there. How's America's greatest bebop horn? Gaining altitude, man. Gaining altitude. Getting tall, huh? Yeah, real high. You all looking for a little gainful employment? You mean music? Dad, I don't mean bricklaying. Bugs, I ain't played the bass for five years. Also, my instrument is with Uncle. I hocked it for train fare. Man, that don't signify. We'll scuffle up a bass for you. How much and where? This answer bar. Fifteen bucks and a pad for the night. See you in a half hour. Solid, solid. Plant you now and dig you later. Whatever happened to that line? I invest a subway token and 20 minutes later, Here I am in a jungle room at the Hotel Zanzibar, which is a cheap three-story flea bag on Bleakman Street. On the bandstand is Bugsy Barton and his five barrels of bop. Bugsy is a musician's musician, and the boys are playing strictly from Memphis. After the set, Bugsy comes over and sits down with me. This boy is five feet wide across the chest, and he doesn't know from his own strength. Rock boy! Give me some skin, man. Easy, Bugs. You're breaking up the metacarpals. What's up? My bass player's on the sauce. I need somebody to take his place tonight. Well, I ain't much of a bass player, Bugs. That don't matter, man. All you got to do is stand up there and wild up the world, sir. I just want to cover the boy to keep the hotel manager from blowing his top. Yeah, I see what you mean. Where's the fiddle? You go up to Johnny's room, 212. Get his fiddle and come on down. Johnny? Johnny Lament, man. The best double bass you ever laid near Drummond. Yeah, of course. He used to play with Goodman, didn't he? Oh, this Johnny's been all over town, Rock. Man, when he's sober, he can play all over that instrument. Hits every register with a cash register. Uh, what's wrong? Girl trouble. Used to have a little thrush called Evie Johnson. She and Johnny had a falling out and he'd taken it pretty hard. Come on, man, you better hustle. We're on in ten minutes. I hopped the self-service elevator up to two and looked for room 212. It ain't very hard because it's the only room with a built-in trombone player. Yes? This Johnny Lament's room, baby? What do you want? I'm Rocky Fortune. I'm sitting in for Johnny until he comes in for a landing. Which won't be soon, by the looks of him. You still haven't said what you want. Oh, pardon me. I need the fiddle. Don't you have your own instrument? Honey, don't give me a bad time. I need the fiddle. Come in. Thanks. Hello, Sonny. Who's that? Take it easy, Johnny. Evie. Evie, you come back? Is that you, Evie? Oh, this kid's from Bellevue. Evie. Johnny, go back to sleep. Put some more music on, baby. Play me something sad. If you see my baby, you send her home to me. If you see my baby, you send her home to me. Tell my baby I'm sad as I can be. Who's that cat? Name's Rocky Fortune, Johnny. I'm sitting in with Bugsy and the boys tonight. I need your fiddle. Sure, man. Anything you say, man. You want a drink, man? A Dolores, honey. Give this righteous cat a little drink. Thanks. I don't touch it, John. Say, man, you see my Evie anyplace around? See the little chick about so high with the softest blonde hair? You seen her, man? Afraid not, Johnny. The fiddle's in the closet, Rocky. Thanks, baby. I didn't catch her name. I didn't throw it. It's Dolores Kane. I'm Bugsy's new singer. Pleased to meet you. Hey. Yes? What's the gun on the shelf for? Oh, it's Johnny's. Don't worry. I already threw the bullets out the window. Clever girl. Thank you. And pretty, too. Thank you. And don't forget the bass fiddle. Yeah. Oh, sure. Come in. It's 1110, Miss Kane. Right down, Mr. Quaid. In case no one has informed you, Miss Kane, I pay you and Mr. Barton to put on a show in my club at 10.30. It is now 11.10. I'm sorry, Mr. Quaid. We were just... I can see what you were just. Is this drunken Paganini going to perform tonight? Well, Johnny isn't feeling so good, Mr. Quaid, but Mr. Fortune here is going to take his place. Fortune? I don't believe I've ever heard of him. Rocky Fortune? Why, he's one of the greatest bass players in the business. I'm paying for the greatest. Rocky, tell Mr. Quaid how you and Dixie had him screaming for mercy at Le Gage Hot in Paris last year. Well, you know, I don't want to brag, baby. Oh, go on. Well, you see, we was playing the dog watch from 12 to 4. And sudden, like, Dixie gets off on Japanese Sandman. Everybody said Dix was losing his lip, but that night he was blowing up a storm. I'm just playing along when up he comes, boogity-boogity, open horn, and every note it looked like it was greased and stuffed. Pretty soon, the cats were jumping and pandemonium breaks loose. French bankers were tearing their clothes off. You know, it took 150 gendarmes to calm the joint down. That's very interesting, Mr. Fortune, but the next show is due to start in three minutes, if you don't mind. Me? I don't mind. See you later, Johnny. Anything you say, man. You see my Evie down there? You tell her Johnny says come back here. You tell her her Johnny's been to Weep City for her and he wants her back. I shoulder the fiddle down of the jungle room just as Bugsy and the boys get off on Sweet Lorraine. We start off playing what the French call the in time. We call it in a closet. After a while, the joint starts jumping, and for the next five hours, I slap that bass until the gut turns black and blue. Also, my hand. Half the time, I'm in two different keys, but nobody cares, and the fans figure I'm another Eddie Safransky, because I'm playing notes that don't even exist. About 4 in the a.m., the whole deal builds to a crescendo till I think the top of my head's gonna fly off. And then suddenly we're playing 16 bars of Goodnight, Sweetheart, and it's all over. I think. Okay, cut. That does it. Thanks, Rock. Well, how'd it go, pal? Oh, I tell you, sweet and groovy like a 90-cent movie, man. Yeah, what happens now? You won't play again tomorrow? We got a room for you on the third floor if you need a pad for the night. Fifteen bucks? Fifteen. You got it. Solid. Here's a key. Say, how's Johnny Lament? Still on his hip. He's taking this thing kind of hard, isn't he? What happened to him? Him and Evie had a big thing. Tonight she walked out. Bag and baggage. Oh, that's rough. Yeah, that's dames for you. Invest heavy and come out of light. See you in the a.m. You'll pardon the expression, but what time? The boy stopped seeing double about 11. We rehearse at 12. I lug the bull fiddle up to the third floor and head for my room. I don't get very far, however, because halfway down the hall, I hear something which ain't music. Hey, what's going on in there? Open up! Open up! Oh, no, no. Take it easy, baby. Wait a minute, just a minute. What's wrong here? In the... in the bedroom. Uh, before I have a look, would you mind putting down the knife? I... I didn't even... Unless that's ketchup on it, baby. Maybe you better tell me what's in that room. It just isn't possible. It never is. Pardon me while I take a look. Don't go away. I sprint for the bedroom, get the door halfway open, and I stop. There on the bed is the body of a beautiful little blonde. One look tells it all. Some cats kill the canary. All right, Dolores, let's have it. It can't be. Come on, baby. What happened here? I finished singing my last number, and I had a drink at the bar. It made me sleepy, and I came up to the room and passed out. I woke up a minute ago. Eve was lying on the bed, and this knife was in my hand. Rocky, I didn't kill her. I didn't. Just take it easy. Who did and who did? I don't know. I swear to you, it happened just the way I said. When I saw her, I screamed, and then... Take it easy, babe. Look, open your eyes. What? I said open your eyes. Look at me. Okay. What was that for? Just checking, honey. Somebody slipped your mickey. Your pupils are contracted. It was the drink. I know it. You know why anybody would want to frame you for Eve Johnson's murder? Why should anyone? Somebody did, baby. Now, come on. We've got to work fast. Whoever did this has probably phoned the gendarmes already. What can we do? I don't know. At 4 a.m., you... Wait a minute, listen. You go out and press the elevator button. What are you gonna do? Get rid of the body. Now get moving. Dolores holds the elevator while I carry Eve's body in. Then I tell her to hold the button until I can hustle down to the first floor. I hit the lobby just as my good friend, Detective Sergeant Hamilton J. Finger of Homicide, comes on like Buster's gang. Pardon me, Sam. Yes? Homicide. We got a tip on a body in room 310. Oh, there must be some mistake, Sergeant. Well, well, my old cellmate Hamilton finger. I mind a note. Is this one of your practical jokes, Fortune? I don't know from what you're talking, Sarge. Step over to the elevator with me. We'll go upstairs, Rocky. Anything you say. Look, what brings you here? I ain't sure, but I think it's a corpse. I jab the elevator button and we wait for the car. My pumper is playing footsie with my Adam's apple as the car comes down. And the door is open. And I nearly drop dead. The car is as empty as Ebbets Field in December. We ride up to room 310, which belongs to Dolores Kane. Hey, Sarge, what's it all about? You'll find out. Yes? Open up, baby. Homicide. Sergeant Finger, Miss Kane. You've met. The Laura sings for Bugsy. I've been sitting in. That's musicians' talk. Do you mind if I look around? Help yourself. Do you mind if I ask you what you're looking for? We got a phone call. Said there was a dead woman in this room. That isn't very flattering. What's in there? Take a look. Empty. I think somebody's been pulling your legs, Sergeant. Both of them. Where's the bedspread? In the hamper. Excuse me. I suppose this is nail polish. How did you know? Yogi. Mind if I take it down to the lab for analysis? If you'll have it laundered. Okay, what's in the closet? Oh, that's a small dragon named Lancelot. Carefully doesn't bite you. Funny. Boo. Okay, I'll have the bedspread analyzed for bloodstains. Now, don't go away, either one of you. We wouldn't think of it. Nighty-night size. And no more practical jokes, you understand? What did you do with it? What? The body. It's in the elevator. Not anymore, it ain't. What do you mean? It never made the first floor. The car was empty. That's impossible. Eve Johnson's body didn't walk out of that car, baby. Somebody lifted it. But what does that mean? Somebody must have stopped the car on the second floor. Correct. The next question is, who would want to steal a corpse? What'll we do? Well, Fingers gonna find bloodstains on that spread. And when he does, he'll be back with some ticklish questions. And I got a hunch we better have the answers. Let's move. We start a room-to-room canvas to the second floor. Dolores takes one carter and I take the other. Result? A big fat goose egg. I finish my carter and go look for Dolores. She's gone, but from the sound of voices, I figure she stopped off to see how Johnny Lament is making out. I start to go in, but I change my mind. Johnny, cut it out. She's dead, ain't she? My little Evie's dead. Oh, don't be crazy. I ain't crazy, baby. Not anymore. What makes you think she's dead? I could see it in your eyes when I asked you about her. Would it matter so much? She walked out on you, didn't she? She'd come back if she was okay. I know Evie. Come on, Dolores. What happened to her? How should I know? You know, baby. You said you was going to kill her. Get her out of your head. She told me. She says, Johnny boy, Dolores is jealous of you. And she says, if I don't stop seeing you, she'll kill me. It's not true. Come on, baby. I know you. We were married once, you and me, remember? Now, let's have it. What'd you do to Eve? Nothing. That don't wash, baby. That just don't wash. Johnny, stay away. You're gonna tell me, honey. Where's Evie? What'd you do to her? Johnny, you're crazy drunk. Now, get away. You're gonna talk? Johnny, no! Johnny, no! All right, hold it, John. Get out of here. Knock it off. You all right, baby? Not that I really care. I'm all right. Sit down, Jazzbo. Miss your new boyfriend, baby? There's nothing like his face, and I think I changed it. Sit down. Johnny! He's all right. I had to belt him, and I ought to clip you, too. I don't understand. I heard it, baby. I got big ears. You didn't bother to tell me you were married to Johnny Lament, and you didn't bother to tell me you and Eve had a slight falling out. I wanted you to help me. I was afraid. You wanted a patsy, baby, and you got one. Only you're about to lose him, because Rocky boy's going to walk away from all this right down to the nearest police station. Rocky, no. All that bilge about how you were framed and me with my open mind. I got a hole in my head. Rocky, it's not true. Yeah, well, tell Dick the fun-loving rover boy when he comes to. I'll leave his fiddle in the band room. So long, baby. And the next time you want a corpse moved, call the seven Santini brothers. I don't belong to the right union. I put it up to my room as mad as a centipede with a hot foot and lug the big bass fiddle down to the band room, which is right across the hall from Johnny Lament's room. The empty fiddle case is standing in the corner. I start to lay it down flat, and it weighs about a ton. And even before it slips out of my hands, I know why. Holy smokes. Okay, fly boy, get him up high. So you're the guy who was all busted up about losing his best girl. Back against the wall. A real nice guy. Kills his doll and tries to hang it on his ex-wife. You're a doll, buster. She found out I was pushing dope and threatened to go to the cops. I had to kill her. Why, you crummy dope peddler. It's misfits like you to give honest musicians a bad name. Don't run your mouth at me, Fortune. If you'd have kept out of it, you'd be all right. You're gonna have a tough time trying to get rid of two corpses, John Boy. A fiddle case only holds one. I'll worry about that. Turn around. Sure, pal, anything you say. Only before I do, there's one thing I think you ought to know. Yeah? Dolores took the bullets out of your gun. Hello. Hello. Yes, please. Who is this? The manager. What is it, please? Listen, Quaid, this is Rocky Fortune. I'm up in the band room, 215. Now listen. Eve Johnson's body's up here in a base fiddle case. And I got the cat that killed her. And get the cops and make it fast. You say you've got the man who stabbed her? stretched out like a herring. That's just fine, Fortune. Stay right there. I'll call the police. Make it fast. I hear somebody coming now. Don't worry. You'll be taken care of. Takes about two seconds before lightning strikes. How did Quaid know she was stabbed, and how did he know it was a man? Suddenly, little wheels start to spin around in my noodle. Quaid is in on it. Sure he is. He's probably supplying Johnny Lament with the stuff. And what's more, he's undoubtedly on his way up here right now. I start to pick up Johnny Lament's .45 and remind myself that Dolores Kane has removed the bullets. A hand turns the doorknob, but it can't be quaid so soon. I just pray that one of the cats has come to get his instrument. The door opens. I freeze. Hey. Hey, Dad. Put the thing down, you gone goonie? Bugsy. Brother, am I glad to see you. Put down the heater, man. What's going on in here? Take a look in that fiddle case. Holy smokes. Eve. Yeah, and here's the little boy who did it. Johnny? Admitted it. I had to flatten him. Well, you did real good. Not good enough. Listen, Bugs. The manager's on his way up here right now, and unless I miss my guess, he's got heavy artillery. Quaid? Is he in on this? He is now. I gotta get out of here. What you gonna do? I got a sudden brainstorm. Look, help me get Eve Johnson's body out of this case. Come on, pal. Get with it. Come on. Okay, okay. Yeah. Where to? In the closet. Yeah. Attaboy. Now dump Laughing Boy into the bass drum. Right. Now, open the door. Look, you think you can lift that case with me in it? Are you kidding? Attaboy, muscle man. Here goes. All right, what you want me to do? Now, look, you just walk out like you're on your way to a jam session. Once I get past Quaid and his artillery, I'm all right. Okay. Watch your hand. Here goes. How you doing? Cut the lip dribble and get going before I get blue. The fiddle case fits me like a fatal disease, but I squinch down and hold my breath, and I figure maybe we'll make it. Bugsy boy picks me up like I weigh in at three pounds just as the door opens. All right, Fortune, get your... Hi, Mr. Quaid. Oh, it's you. You was expecting somebody else? I was expecting Fortune. Did he get away? Fortune? Oh, you mean the bass player. You know who I mean, muscle brain. Did he get out? Ah, you know me better than that, boss. I got Rocky Fortune right here. Inside the fiddle case. So there I am. Smart? Ha! They don't come any smarter than no Rocco Fortunato, Jack. It never occurred to me that this hotel might be operating in narcotics dodge and that my pal Bugsy might be in on it. But I'm real tricky. I am. Yes, siree. I outwit the crook by crawling into a base fiddle case and letting him snap the catch on me. And there I hang like a cured ham, waiting to be boiled in hot fat. What do we do with him, boss? Let me out of here, you punk! Get him out of here. Why don't we just drop him down the air shaft? It'll look like an accident. Don't be a jerk. Take him down to the river. Anything you say, boss. Hey, hey, hey, Fortune, shut up My, my, what a temper this cat has got Come on, Bugsy, don't waste any Who's that? Search me? Open up Who is it? Police Just a moment Drop him out the window Right Open up So long, sucker Okay, open the door What's going on here? I'd like to know, officer. We came in and found this musician knocked out on the floor. Where's Fortune? Fortune? I haven't seen him. Have you, Bugsy? Uh, Fortune? Oh, uh, not a hide. Nor a hair, either. Well I know he came in here to return the fiddle He must have left then Maybe he in his room Yeah yeah He might have been here but he left Come on miss We go up to his room Something wrong officer Yeah Fortune wanted as an accessory to murder Hold it! Oh, no. Rocky! What are you doing out there? I won't believe this, Sergeant, but I just climbed out of a fiddle case. These hoodlums dropped me out of the window onto a fire escape one flight down. What? He's obviously crazy, probably drunk. If I'm crazy, brother, then how about opening that closet door? Because I've had a hallucination that Eve Johnson's body's inside. I'd like to oblige Fortune, but you see, I've got other plans. Grab him. Hold it, buddy. All right, don't move, either one of you. I'm standing still. Open the closet, Rocky. Had enough for you, Sergeant? Yeah. It'll do for the time being. All right, let's go, you two. Keep an eye on Dreamboat there. Sure will. If he comes to, I'll belt him with a fiddle. Let's go. Are you all right, Rocky? If I can ever straighten up, I'll be fine. What happened up here? Well, the sergeant came back when he found out those were bloodstains, and I told him the whole story. We came down to look for you, and... Well, I guess you know the rest. Uh-huh. You're sure you're all right, Rocky? I'm fine, baby, but I was just thinking. What? What they would have said if that fire escape hadn't have been there. What would they have said? Man, dig that crazy bass fiddle. NBC has presented Frank Sinatra as that footloose, fancy-free, and frequently unemployed young gentleman, Rocky Fortune. Tonight's cast included Jack Crucian, Gene Tatum, Tom Holland, Frank Gerstle, and Barney Phillips Tonight's script was written by George Lefferts and Andrew C. Love directed This is Eddie King speaking Now to tell you about next week's adventure Here's Frank Sinatra as Rocky Fortune Did I ever tell you about the Broadway actress who was involved in the murder of a drama critic? And when I asked her for her autograph, she gave it to me with a 45. Tell you about it next week. See you around. Visit with Deborah McGee and Molly tonight on the NBC Radio Network. Now, Frank Sinatra, transcribed as Rocky Fortune. NBC presents Frank Sinatra starring as that put-loose and fancy-free young gentleman Rocky Fortin I guess I've had some strange jobs in my time. Once I was a shill for a guess-your-weight guy in a carnival. I'd come up there looking like a rube, and he'd guess my weight at 200 even. Everybody in the crowd gives him the oh-ha-ha. However, they don't know I got the lead in my pants. About 50 pounds in my two hip pockets. You never really know when you start in just how a job's gonna turn out. Sometimes the one that looked like the tamest turned out to be the loaded. Like the time I'm sent by the agency to play parlor maid to a gang of plastered parastatures. The sign on the front of the window said, Oliver Bates, Obje Dart. It looks like I've intruded on ladies' night in an uninhibited Turkish bath. Most of the plaster statues are dames, and most of the dames would be arrested on the spot if they ever set foot on Jones Beach at daylight. Pretty soon, an oily little guy slides out under the door from the back room and oozes up to me. Yes, sir. Yes, sir, what can I do for you? A reproduction for your library? A nymph? A satyr? Some pawn? Sure, any time. What do you got in mind? I beg your pardon? Oh, it's all right. You Oliver Bates? Yes. Well, the agency sent me over. They said you needed a handyman. Oh, oh, of course. Do you know anything about dusting statuary? What is there to know about dusting it? Well, the statues aren't intrinsically valuable, of course. But still, we must be careful. Aren't they beautiful? Hmm. What happened to this one? She bite her nails? That is the Venus de Nilo. Oh. Well, when do I start? Right away. I'll expect you to keep all the statues dusted, the floor swept, and the windows cleaned. Tell me, Mr. Bates, what is all this stuff? Looks like dream night in a D.T. ward. My dear fellow, these are some of the finest statuary reproductions available. For example, this is a gargoyle from Notre Dame. Oh, I remember this cat. He used to play fullback. Sam Gargoyle. And this is the Aztec god Palio Gio Chilia Chilia. Gesundheit. Of course, you know. You spend the nights here. They told me, but I didn't bargain for this collection of gremlins. Is this stuff to genuine McCoy? Of course not. They're plaster reproductions. Take this one, the Haggard Bay. The original stands in the Placcio del Marco in Florence. Isn't she lovely? Yeah, she reminds me of the old broad that sells the pretzels on 48th Street. She's got cobwebs on her nose. Look out. Be careful. Just lusting her off a little bit. Take my shutty. Look out, you fool. It's falling. I got it. I got it. You fool. You idiot. Look what you've done. Her arm comes off. That's all. Get away from there. Don't touch it. Maybe I could glue it back on. No, no. Go away. Get out of here. How much does it cost? You can take it out of my cell. Don't touch it. Look, Mr. Bates, what's it worth? What's it worth? Oh. Oh, well, I suppose it really can be mended. I'll just carry it back to the shelf after this. Be careful. Okay. Hey, Gargoyle, how do you think you'll do against Southern Cal? It turns out that Bates is running strictly a schlock house. He imports these plaster dummies from Italy for a couple of hundred lire apiece, which in American money ain't worth counting. He sells them over here to art lovers for 25 clams, which is a mock-up would have made his tail talking to Gimbals. I put in a couple of hours talking football with a gargoyle when a car squeals to a stop in front of the store. One of those fine jobs about three and a half blocks long with a chauffeur out in the cold. An old geezer in a scotch-plaid shawl crawls out of the back and totters in. He's leaning on a silver-headed cane and a blonde-headed dish with a pair of legs that weren't off a piano. Bates! Bates! Where is he? Bates! And don't excite yourself, Mr. Spruill. Remember the doctor. Oh, that doctor's an idiot. Bates! You! Yeah? Yeah. Oh. Oh, you're not Bates. I'm Rocky Fortune. Rocky? I don't want you. Bates! Yes, yes, yes, Spruill. I was in the back. I didn't hear you. Fortune, get Mr. Spruill chair. I don't want a chair. I want to talk about... Mr. Spruill, perhaps we'd better go inside. Now, here. Here. I drove all the way from Westchester to this miserable little shop and I won't be put off. Of course, Mr. Spruill, we can talk in my private office this way. Oh, yes, yes, of course. Sharon, wait here for me. Yes, Mr. Spruill. He's a peppery old buzzard, ain't he? That old buzzard is Jonathan J. Spruill. Oh, you mean he's the old nut with the copper money, huh? He has eight million dollars invested in copper, yeah That's a lot of copper You work for him? I'm his secretary Must be nice to have eight million dollars in copper You work for, uh, Mr. Bates? Yeah Must be very interesting work It's a living Can you tell me about the statue? Sure, what do you want to know? Well, are they all, uh, plastered? Well, except Gargoyle, he's in training Oh, very funny You really know about them? Sure. Bates couldn't get along without me. Look, when you tuck the old man in for his afternoon nap, why don't you come on back and I'll tell you all about him. I'm sorry. I'll be busy with Mr. Spruill's collection all day. What's he collect? Bottle caps? Mr. Spruill is probably the world's foremost private collector of antique artifacts. Is that a fact? He has the only complete set of early Greek amphorae with lids. What's amphorae? Vases. Delicate ceramic vases. And he's got the lids? That's right. Sweetie, you can call them amphorae, Liz. I call them bottle caps. About this time, Bates pours himself out of his office and sends me out for supper. I'm not particularly anxious to go because the counterman at the one-armed joint around the corner has his shirt button, two buttons lower than Sharon, but the effect is not the same. I inhale a bowl of chili and a piece of rubber meringue pie and head back to the store. There's nobody in front of the store, so I walk through to the back, tipping my hat to the haggard bay as I pass, and I open the office door. Good, you're still here. I was afraid you'd... Hey, what's Bates doing on the floor? Mr. Bates! Mr. Bates! He's dead. You ain't kidding, lady. Somebody blew out the back of his head and it took a big gun to do that. A gun? Yeah, maybe a .45 automatic, something like the one you're holding in your hand. Maybe you'd better give it to me right now. But, but... Now you'd better tell Rocky all about it. Well, I didn't do it. Look, Sharon, I find you standing over a stiff with a real hot rod. You've got to believe me. I found him this way. Mr. Spruill left his shawl. He sent me back for it and I walked in and... And I... I... Don't tell me that you picked the gun up off the floor. I don't know why. Hey, you're real scared, aren't you? It was awful. I touched him. My hand. All right, all right, all right. Slow down. Did you see anybody when you came in? No. Yes. Yes, wait a minute. There was a black car halfway down the block, and it drove off just as I came in. Maybe it was a heist. Let's see. Bates kept his roll in his pocket. It's gone all right. He must have had a couple of hundred in there. Hey. What is it? An insurance policy on his last shipment. Well, the shipment is safe. Fate should have made the policy straight-liver, Grace. What's that? Snow White and the two dopes. What? A patrol car. Somebody must have heard the shot. What will I do? They won't believe me. Look, we're both in a spot. Camping out over a corpse is not popular with the lads in blue. Sharon, this whole deal is fishy in the Fulton Street Market on Friday morning. Come on. Where are you going? Out the back. But the police will think we're like... If we stay here, they won't have to think. They'll pin it on you like a gardenia. Come on. We do a Comanche sneak out the back door while the cops waste the taxpayer's rubber squealing to a stop in front. We beat it down an alley and around the corner under the street. By the time we slow down to a walk, Sharon's out of air, breathing heavy, which on her looks good. What do we do now? That's a good question. There are a couple of leads I got in mind. Leads? That Bates was as phony as a showgirl's eyelash. Why do you say that? A couple of reasons. For one thing, what would a two-bit operation like that need a night watchman for? He never had one up until the time he hired me. For another thing, that insurance policy. It was for 50 grand. Hunter, what does that mean? He had something in that store beside Dying Swans. But what? That's what I'd like to know. Look, let's move. You ain't going nowhere, Scott. If that's your finger, pal, you got stuck in my back, your nails need cutting. This ain't no finger, Buster. That's a six-inch knife. You can cut a hair with it, lengthwise. Okay, Mr. Penzing, I got him. Good work, Pudler. What's the idea of it? Shut up. Look out for the knife. You'll damage the herringbone. One more part of you, I'll damage the backbone. All right, Pudler. I'm sure they'll cooperate. In a pig's eye. What do you want? Well, you see, I have my car, and I thought I might drop you somewhere. No, thanks. It's a nice night. I'll walk. Enter the car, wife guy. All right, all right. Would you prefer the back or the jump seat, miss? Doesn't make any difference. Well, I'd like to... Get in there, you go. All right, don't push. Everybody comfy? Great. Your gorilla's sitting on my head. Really, Puttler? You should be polite to our passengers. Well, Mr. Bensinger, you don't want him to know where we're going, do you? Certainly not. Let him up. Okay. But if you don't want him to see... Don't be crude about it. The civilized way is like this. Mr. Benzinger reaches back in the front seat and lays the butt of a .38 just back of my ear. I lose interest in most everything at that point and start on a personal inspection tour of several deep-shaft coal mines without benefit of safety light. The next thing I see is a pair of bushy eyebrows, and I figure it's John L. checking up on my union card. By the time I get my eyes propped wider, I discover it's the ape puddler looking at me. For a while, I think I'm still out because his face is turning from green to red to orange to yellow to blue and back to green. It takes me a minute to figure. Suddenly, I get it. I am in some kind of a loft with a skylight, and the technicolor effect comes from an advertising sign somewhere outside. He's batting his eyes, Mr. Banzinger. Give him some water. You're a wet. I like it. Not that way in a glass. What are you guys trying to pull? Should I start with a telephone book? Not yet, Puttler. The telephone book won't hurt him much. It just kind of pikes him up. Wait. You a Rocky Fortune? Yeah. Hey, where's the girl? In the next room. Fortune, before I let Puttler earn his keep, perhaps you'd like to tell me where it is. Where what is? You say, Mr. Banzinger, if you let me start with a telephone book, this wouldn't happen. Quiet. Your employer saw fit to resist our simple questions. You knocked him off. Unfortunately, Puddler's reflexes are quicker than his intellect. Yeah. Therefore, it's up to you to tell us where it is. I don't know what you guys are talking about. I can start with a Staten Island book, Mr. Banzinger. That's real pen. Please. Quite damn boy. At the proper moment, Pudler. You may use the Manhattan Red Book. Fortune, your time is running out, and I am running out of patience. Why don't you just give up? Bates would have an assistant who didn't know. Bates didn't tell me anything. He didn't even trust me with his two-bit statues. You should have heard him holler when I broke the arm off an old plaster bag. He'd have thought it was made out of gold. You guys are making a big mistake if you think he told me anything. That's not yours, Mr. Banzinger. This crumb won't talk. Why don't you lie? On the contrary, Pudler. I think he has talked. I have? He has? Pudler, you will escort Mr. Fortune somewhere into the country and lose him permanently. A plague? Unfortunately, I will not be able to accompany you in the car. I'm sure Mr. Fortune would give his word of honor not to make any trouble. Oh, yes. You'll cross my heart and hope to die. Yes, I wouldn't be at all surprised. But just to make sure, Pudler... Yes, Mr. Banzinger. The Brooklyn book? Right. I am back in the coal mine again, and I'm beginning to figure I should have portal to portal pay. This time, the first thing I notice is a delicate aroma. It is vaguely familiar, and then I place it. The last time I go down to the track at Monmouth Park when the train comes out of the tunnel on the Jersey side, a sudden essence arrives simultaneously with the sunlight. I discover that this is the place where all good pigs go to die. Sick Hawkers, New Jersey. Well, this is where I am again. I bat one eye and find I'm driving along with Pudler. He's got one hand on a portable howitzer and the other on the wheel. So I play possum. When the car stops, Pudler gets out on his side. and comes around the back to get me, only when he gets there, I'm gone. Hey, hey, hey, yo! So long, sucker. He pumps a couple of quick shots after me, but outside of one lucky hit on the rear window, I'm home free. I head into town to stop on this side of the George Washington Bridge of putting the call to my old friend, Sergeant Finger of Homicide. Fortune, where are you? Never mind, listen. You want the guy who rubbed out the odd deal of baits? You're darn right I do. Fortune, if you... They put the snatch on me, two thugs. A guy named Benzinger and a Neanderthal man named Pudler. What are you raving about? You gotta find him, they got a girl. How nice for them. Look, Fortune, why don't you make it easy for all of us? Turn yourself in to the nearest precinct. Finger, you gotta believe me. Don't you want the guy that knocked off baits? You bet I do. Turn yourself in, Fortune. I'll let you take a manslaughter, please. I haven't got time to talk to you, knucklehead. Wait a minute, Fortune. Don't go away, man. Let's talk this thing over. How have you been? What else is new? There's Sergeant Finger for you, thinking all the time. Gonna trace the call. Bye now. I drive into town and get stuck in a traffic jam on 10th Avenue. While I'm sitting between two 20-ton trucks, both of them dumping carbon monoxide down my throat, I keep thinking of that blonde, kind of fragile, like she was made of spun glass. But real spun. And then I remember. Puddler with his face changing colors like a chameleon. A bell rings and a little electric light bulb lights up upon my head. I head down 10th Avenue to the offices and workshop at the Mamas Spectacular Company. Down in the shop working with a blowtorch, I find old Charlie's for Boda. Rocky, I ain't seen you since you was fired for misspelling a word and that beer sign on 42nd Street. How's the old glass blower? They still call you on every sign north of Trenton? Sure, sure. Who could make a spectacular without old Charlie? And Mama still makes all the big signs, huh? Well, we got a little competition, but they don't make nothing more than signs on powder room doors. That's what I figured. Charlie, I gotta find a special sign. What sign? All I know is the colors. Green, red, orange, yellow, blue, green. Uh-huh. Which is longest? The yellow. The green was the shortest. Yeah, yeah. I'll check it in the records for you, but I think I know the one. Yeah? What one? It's a beautiful sign. Six-cycle animation. I worked on it only last year. Where is it? A Bensonhurst in Brooklyn. Arf, arf, dog food. Let arf, arf, suit, serve, food. Charlie looks it up and gives me the address. I put ten gallons of gas in Mr. Benzing's car, which I think is very nice of me under the circumstances, and head out to Bensonhurst. There's a sign with two dogs chasing each other around in circles. I take a line of sight from the sign to find two possible skylight windows. I climb up the stairs of the first loft and boil in. Ah! Turns out to be an artist who was painting a replacement for September morning. His model takes a dim view of my intrusion, so I get out in a hurry. The second loft, I figure, has got to be it. I go up the stairs real quiet. The door at the top is ajar, and I ease my way into the room without squeaking the hinge. Room is empty. I go across to the other door, grab hold of the doorknob, and yank. Sharon, are you all right? Oh, Rocky. The door was open. Why didn't you get away? I was tired. I just got loose. When I heard you, I thought it was those men coming back. No, I left Pudler with the pigs, but he could have gotten back by now. We better get out of here. I'm so glad to see you. Yeah. Come on. We were... Wait a minute. Listen. Here they come. What do we do? Look, they don't know I'm up here. Come on over here behind the door. What are you going to do? I brought a tire jack up from the car. We'll knock him off like ducks in a shooting gallery when he comes through the door. Shh. Careful, Putler. Don't drop it. Looks like Putler hits himself a ride back from Jersey. Here they come now. Ready? One. Drop the wrench, Rocky. What the... Grab him, Putler. Don't bother. I have him covered. One move, Fortune. I'll blow a disc out of your spine. Lady, please do me a favor and shoot. I came back to rescue you. Well, that was very sweet of you. Did you get it, Benzinger? Yes, miss. Putler, bring in the statue. The arm is off. But I didn't do it. Well, what do you know? The old bat from the art store. What do you want with that statue? Never mind. I told you we'd get it for you, miss. You've done brilliantly, haven't you? First you shoot bait, and this imbecile lets Fortune get away from him. Come on. Pick up the statue, and we'll all go in the car. How about Fortune? Couldn't I just... He comes with us till it's over. Let's go. Lady, if we're going in the car again, may I make one request? What is it? Let's not go Pullman this time. I'd like to sit up all the way. We are a happy crew in the car. Benzinga, Pudler, Sharon, the plaster statue, and little old curly-headed me. We head north on the east side drive over the bridge of the parkway into Westchester. When we roll through an iron grill gate with a big sign on it saying Spruel, I begin to get the idea. Benzinga, you come in with me and bring the statue. Remember, you tell the blind old fool you were Bates' assistant. Puddler? Yeah? Keep the motor running, and when we get the payoff, we've got to get out fast. Come on. All right, for you, miss. And keep Fortune sitting tight. The light, as they say, begins to dawn. Whatever it was that Bates was trying to sell the screw, Sharon hijacked and cut herself in. Sit still a minute. They should have let me use the phone book. You notice some people use the phone book to look up numbers? They do? Never thought of that. You never thought of a lot of things. Like, for instance, this car's got an automatic shift. Yeah, so what? Well, if you ought to have it neutral, not in drive like you got it. Listen, wise guy, you trying to tell me how to drive a getaway car? You got to be ready to start on an instant's notice. Like this? Hey, get your foot off. Give me that car. Look out, the car. You got my foot jammed on. Yeah, it's a great pickup this model's got, huh? Going right into that house. Look out. We go through the French doors like a knife through cheese and end up on the opposite wall of the living room with Benzing a pin between the bumper and the brick fireplace. Puddler's slightly out of commission, having stuck his head through the windshield. I pile out of the car with Puddler's gun. Shannon's knocked head over tea cuddle, out like a light but still breathing very pretty. What is this? What happened? Pardon me, Mr. Froehl. Is this the Sawmill River Parkway? What is the meaning of this? I'll call the police. I think it's a great idea. And when they get here, we'll hand them that statue you're covering. Oh, no, no, no. It's mine. I paid for it. Lots of people paid for it. Bates for one. Why, what are you talking about? I just paid this man $50,000. He's Bates' assistant. He's Bates' murderer. Murderer? Why did you pay 50 grand for this plaster statue? Why, it's not a plaster statue. It's what's underneath. Look. Look, I'll show you. There. There. There you see. There it is. Aphrodite, the goddess of love, carved by Praxiteles himself. Oh, it's beautiful. Beautiful. You had Bates steal it for you, cover it over with that cheap plaster statue to hide. Oh, you think I can? Now it's mine, all mine. I hope the two of you are very happy. Maybe she'll write you letters. Letters? What are you talking about? You're going to the can, old timey. You're an accessory before, after, and during a murder. She's beautiful. Beautiful. And that reminds me, Sharon. Sharon, baby. Can you hear me, honey? What? What is it? I got something important to ask you. What? Where does Puddle keep his Westchester book I want to call the cops? NBC has presented Frank Sinatra as that footloose and fancy-free young gentleman, Rocky Fortune. Others in tonight's cast were Jan Miner, Ted Osborne, Leon Janney, Joseph Julian, Ed Begley, and Mandel Kramer. Tonight's script was written by Ernest Canoy. Fred Wade directed. Now to tell you about next week's adventure, here's Frank Sinatra as Rocky Fortune. Ever see a magician fill the disappearing act on somebody? I always wonder how they did it and then finally I found out. A carnival guy pulled a disappearing act on me. The only trouble was he was trying to make me disappear for keeps. I'll tell you about it next week. See you around. This program was transcribed This is the NBC Radio Network Frank Sinatra, transcribed as Rocky Fortune. Here's Frank Sinatra, starring as that footloose and fancy-free young gentleman, Rocky Fortune. Hi, did I ever tell you about the time I decided to give up my place on Bleakman Street and find a new room? Oh, not that the place was bad, but when I started using my mailbox as a numbers drop, I decided it was time to find a new pad, which I did. The only trouble was the landlady. She wanted to collect the first month's rent and blood. And when I objected, her superintendent tried to terminate my lease on life. Hello? Anybody home? Hey, where's the management? Right behind you. Put up your hands. What is this? You tell me, bright boy. I'm looking for a room. What brought you here? The sign in the window that says room for rent. Now, would you mind pointing that horse pistol the other way? What's your name? Julius La Rosa. What's yours? Your wise guy? Listen, Sammy, put down the artillery and let's get down. Who is it, Lenny? This joke was wandering around inside, Ma. The door was open. The sign said room for rent, so I came in. You want to rent a room? That's the general idea, Ma. Put away the gun, Lenny. Ma, how do you know who this character is? Put it away. Thanks, Ma. We've been having trouble with thieves lately. Lenny thought maybe you was one. Well, I'm glad you protect your guests. Do you have a room? We got one vacancy on this floor, third door down. Can I see it? This way. Five dollars a week in advance. This is a peachy view of the garbage bin. Take it or leave it. I'd like to leave it, but I need a flop until I can locate an apartment. I'll take it. Five. Wait till I get the vault open, will you? One, two, three, four, five. No heavy drinking in the rooms. Keep off the second floor. That's where me and Lenny live. It's a deal. You keep off my floor, and I'll keep off yours. I ain't joking, mister. You set foot on those stairs, and Lenny's liable to lose his temper. When Lenny loses his temper, he's liable to do anything. Anything. Well, welcome to 55 Bishop Street. My name's Thompson. You call me Ma. That's touching. If you go out at night, be careful. This is a tough neighborhood. I come from a pretty tough neighborhood. This ain't pretty tough. It's real tough. Oops. I park my duffel and flop down on the mattress, which is a cross between a sack of cement and the Aberdeen Proving Grounds for light, medium, and heavy tanks. No sooner do I close my eyes than the door opens. In walks a little bald-headed guy about 40 wearing rimless glasses. A Casper Milk Toaster if I ever seen one. And I've seen several. What are you doing here? What do I look like I'm doing? Playing Scrabble? Do you believe in knocking? Get out of this room. Oh, you've got to get a little bigger before you talk like that to a full-grown man, Buster. Where are my things? Where's Helen? I ain't seen your things. And the only Helen I know is Helen of Troy. and she moved to Utica about three years ago. Oh, very funny. I didn't think it was that good. It wasn't. Now, see here. I want you out of our room, and I demand to know where... Nothing wrong, Mr. Fortune. This billiard head keeps acting like somebody's in the wrong department. Mrs. Thompson, what is this man doing in my room? Who are you? Who am I? Why, I'm Gerald Kinsey. My wife, Helen, and I have had this room for a week now. Mister, you're nuts. I ain't never seen you in my life. Never seen me? Why, I paid you a week's rent this morning. My wife, Helen, was... I don't know anybody named Helen except Helena Troy, and she... He knows, he knows. Come on, Horace, get out of here. Oh, are you all out of your minds? What is this? You heard me, Homer. Vanish. I demand my wife, I demand... You demand a belt in the mouth if you don't beat it. I will now, I'll... Wrong, Ma. We got a stray bed bug. He thinks he lives here. Lenny. Lenny. You remember me. Gerald Kinsey. My wife, Helen, and I were... What's he talking about, Ma? Lenny. Look, Zeke. You got the wrong house, maybe, huh? Wrong house? This is 55 Bishop Street, room one. My wife and I were... Lenny, show him the door. Let's go. I will not go. I demand my wife. I demand my wife. One, two, and away we go. Take your hands off of me and I'll... You owe nothing. Now get out. And if you come back here, I'll kill you, understand? I'll break every bone in your body. Ow! Ow! I watched Lenny give Gerald a bicep like he was a sack of old feathers, and then I start to unpack. Inside the dresser drawer, I spot a cufflink with the monogrammed initials G.K. on it. Also, there is some spilled face powder. I put the cufflink in my pocket and lie down on my bed to think things over. I'm just starting to doze off when I hear a sound at the window. So I make like I'm asleep and I wait. A second later, Gerald slips into the room with a medium-sized paving stone in his mitt. He tiptoes over to the bed and gets ready to drop the concrete on my skull as I mousetrap him. Hold it. Drop it. Come on, drop it. Ouch, my arm, you're breaking it. Drop the mickey. Now sit down. Oh, please. You better start talking, Sonny. I'm going to get rough, too. Who are you? My name's Rocky Fortune. I just rented this room. They forgot to tell me it was an outpatient clinic for Bellevue. You're not with them? With who? I'm not with anybody. Oh, then you've got to help me. Give me one convincing reason. Listen, you've got to believe me, mister. For the past three days, my wife and I have lived in this room. This morning, I went out to look for a job. When I came back just now, they rented the room to you. They're just pretending they never saw me. They've done something to my wife. I know they have. Why should they? I don't know. They may be in some shady business or something. Maybe she found out about it. Please, please, you must believe me. Hold it, hold it. Your initials are G.K., aren't they? Why, yes. Gerald Kinsey. You ever see this cufflink? Why, that's the one I lost. Helen and I looked all over for it. It was under the shelving paper in some newspaper in the dressing. But, well, that should prove I lived here. It's enough to go on, Gerald. You see, the whole thing is a plot to... Shh! Fortune! Just a minute. Just a minute. Look, you better use the emergency exit. Out the window. If Nature Boy finds you in here, he'll take you apart like a jigsaw puzzle. What will I do? I got a friend who's a cop. 21st Precinct, Sergeant Finger. Tell him I sent you and bring him back here, quick. Open up! Now beat it. Remember, Finger, Sergeant Hamilton, J. Finger. I thought I heard somebody talking in there. Talking? Oh, that was me. I always talk to myself. Oh, that's a bad habit. I never listened to it. That's a good one. It'll keep you out of trouble. What kind of trouble did you have in mind? The kind where they bury you. Remember it. Lenny goes upstairs, and I settle down and wait for Gerald and the gendarmes. After a couple of minutes, I hear the steps creak. I crack the door in time to see Grandma carrying her brown paper bag to the back of the hall. She takes maybe two steps and stops. You're liable to get your nose caught in the crack of that door, Mr. Fortune. I could spare a little. We like the border to keep the door closed. You and Lenny are a couple of real trusting souls, ain't you? I told you we've been having sneak thieves. Can I help you with that paper bag? Just going out back to put the garbage out, I can manage. Just try to be friendly. Try it with the door closed. Sure, Ma. I hear Margo out the back door with a bag of garbage. After about 20 minutes, I hear her close the door and go up the steps again. I figure either she went all the way to the city disposal plant with that stuff, or it wasn't a bag of garbage. After things quiet down, I tiptoed down the hall and opened the back door. There's a small yard with a high concrete wall. It's filled with broken bottles, old almanacs, and other valuable stuff. At one end is a small wooden shed big enough for a half a dozen garbage cans with a cheap padlock on the outside. Just in a hunch, I go over to the shed and knock. Anybody home? Now, why would anybody want to put a padlock on the garbage? Anybody here beside you chickens? Okay, we'll just do a little lock picking and have a look. Well, don't tell me the housing authority has this place listed as an apartment. You're Helen, right? Who are you? My name's Rocky Fortune. How does that guy rate a knockout like you? Are you... Are you working for Gerald? More or less. He and I seem to share a room. Listen, you've got to help me. Hey, we'd better close the door. Just in case Lenny decides to check on his guests. Why have they got you locked up here? I don't know. Ma and the big one, Lenny, they must have drugged me. or something. You gotta tell that to Gerald. They locked me out here. They told me they'd kill me if I made a sound. No kidding, mister. What are you so scared of me for? You tell Gerald. I wouldn't want him to think I left him on my own or anything. You know how he gets. You have been drugged. Now take it easy, kid. We'll have you out of here in no time as soon as I figure out a way. You believe me, don't you? I didn't run away from Gerald. Honest, I didn't. Did you want to? We had a big fight this morning, but I didn't mean what I said. It's those people, Ma and Lenny. They put me out here. All right, come on. Let's get out of here. The fragrance from these garbage cans is a little bit too... Uh-oh. What is it? That was the back door to the house. Here comes Lenny and Grandma. You'd better hide. Where? In my pocket? The garbage can. Smart girl. Okay, put the lid on. Hey, turn on the air conditioning, will you? Shh. I'm feeling a little bit like a rotten pimento and an undersized olive when it dawns on me that Lenny's going to notice that the lock has been opened. He does. We out here, Ma? I just brought her some food. The lock is open. I locked it. It didn't open itself. You've got to be careful. I told you, I locked it. We'd better go in. Food okay, dearie? Yes. You'd better finish it. We're getting you out of here in about 15 minutes. Out? Your husband was snooping around. Things might get a little too hot. Where will you take me? Oh, I know a nice quiet spot where nobody will look in a million years. I got to borrow a car. As soon as I get it, we move out. Come on, Ma. You better take the full garbage cans out front for the collection, Lenny. What's today? Tuesday. We got a load of stuff. Okay. I'll stay here and watch Mrs. Kinsey. Here's the gun. I'll just throw this one out first. What you got in here, old lead? For a couple of minutes I die while Big Lenny rolls me out to the front of the house to be picked up by a gent from the sanitation department. As I feel myself lifted into the truck, I decide I'll keep quiet until Lenny gets back to the house. It's then that I hear the machine that grinds the stuff. Okay, Charlie, toss up that next can. What's the matter, Charlie? You forget to eat your crispy crunchies? Come on, let's have it. Hey, I see what you mean. Now, let's get the cover off this one and take a look. Hey! Pardon me, Sam. Is this the subway to Jackson Heights? What are you doing in that can? Can? Holy mackerel, I thought I was in a subway car. Give me a hand, will you, Sam? Yeah, sure. Are you nuts, Buster? I guess I am, Sam. Would anybody in his right mind get into a garbage can by mistake? I'll see you around. I shake a few breadcrumbs out of my hair and climb over the truck. I sneak back into the house to make for my room. I get there and hear voices inside. I told you to stay away from here. I want my wife, Lenny. And I'll kill you if you don't tell me where she's hiding. Go ahead. Pull the trigger. You haven't got the gut to kill anybody. It won't be the first time. May be the last. Let go of my throat. Rocky, Rocky, hit him. A pleasure, pal. Is he out? Like a busted street lamp. I guess you saved my life. How come you didn't get the cops? I got a gun instead. I was determined I'd handle it myself. Somehow you just don't seem the type. Anyway, I located your ever-loving wife. Helen? Where? They got her stashed in a wooden garbage shed in the back. I'll get her. You stay here and keep the gun on Loverboy in case he recovers from that belt I gave him. I'll get Helen. Okay. Maybe that's best. And keep an eye out for Ma. I don't think she's gonna like us. I leave Gerald and Lenny in my room and slip on my way out to the shed. I do another hairpin job in the lock and open it up. Helen's sitting on a stack of old newspapers waiting. Helen? Rocky, you all right? Yeah, except for a slight tinge of city dump number five. You ready to get out of the shoebox? Yes, but what about Lenny? Lenny's in on his face in my room, and your husband's holding a heater on him. Gerald? Is he? Uh-huh. I see. Puts a slightly different color on things. You don't look very happy. I'm not. What's wrong? It's none of your business. Now, look, baby, I almost got myself bumped off getting you out of this trap. Now, level with me. Now, level, Rocky. But at you, not with you. Get him up. What is this? Kill Fortune Day in Brooklyn? Where did you get the artillery? I had it. I don't get it. You will. Turn around. So, you ain't exactly the damsel in distress I figured you for. Look, button brain. For reasons of my own, I'm not interested in meeting my dear husband right now. I told Ma and Lenny that he was an escaped convict, holding me prisoner. I talked them into hiding me out here and pretending they'd never seen me. How did you manage that? Little money can make people do very noble things. No more talk now. This won't hurt a bit. I'll just... Hold it, Helen! Drop the gun! You keep away from it, Fortune. Okay. Mara, into the shed. You can't do this. Lenny needs a doctor. I'm doing it. Lenny will come to in an hour or so. I just kick him once or twice. Oh, you're a nice kid. We're even, Fortune. You saved me. I saved you. Shall we dance? The only ones who are going to dance are me and my sweet little double-crossing wife. Gerald, I swear I didn't double-cross you. The old woman and her son, they found out about the jewels. They locked me out here and tried to make me give them up. That's a lie. You told us your husband took dope and beat you. You asked us to help you get away from him. That sounds more like my little girl. She's lying, Gerald. They kidnapped me. Sure, sure. Where's the stuff? I hid it. I'll bet you did. Well, find it. It's in the ash can. Here. Is this all the stuff from the Rensselaer jobs? It's all there, Gerald. It better be. Because you and I are going for a little journey. And you know how it upsets me when somebody tries to pull a fast one on them. It's all there. Okay, Fortune. You and Ma, here are lucky. I'm going to give you a chance to stay alive for a while longer. Because you've been so good. Come on, baby. We're going. You ain't gone anyplace, mister. Well, look who woke up. Step aside, big boy. Not till I finished that little job on you that I started a while back. Lenny, don't do it. She hasn't worked. It was a trick. They're both thieves. I ain't interested in what they are and what they ain't. I'm going to take your pot, Baldy, and then I'm going to work on your pal here. I warn you, Lenny, I'll shoot you. You don't scare me. Lenny, don't. Please, Mr. Esel Groggy. He don't know what he's doing. Tell him to step aside. Lenny, don't do it. I'm going to give you something to remember. Lenny! Lenny! Lenny! Oh, no! No! Jack. Keep away from him, Ma. Now you're a murderer, too, or isn't that news? Shut up. Helen, take Ma into the house and lock her in a cellar. What are you going to do? Never mind that. Get going. Somebody might have heard those shots. Come on, Ma. Jerry. There's a cop standing out at the end of the alley. Is he coming? No, he's just looking around. He heard the shots. Hurry up, get going. Let's go. Then don't try anything. I got 50 grand worth of stuff here. I won't. Okay, Fortune. Help me get this stiff into one of those empty cans. Suppose I don't. I'll kill you. I'll help. Ready? Now. Now, put the cover on. Hello? Shut up. Anybody in that shed? Climb into that other can. Now, listen. I said climb in. One peep and I'll let you have it. Anything you say. Now, get down. I'm going to put the cover on. Now, listen. Do what I say. Okay, okay. Anybody in here? Oh, hello, officer. Oh, I thought I heard somebody in here. Oh, I live here. I just came out to take the garbage cans out front. Oh? You didn't happen to hear a sound like a couple of shots a minute ago, did you? Uh, shots? I was rattling these garbage cans so that I couldn't even hear you come down the alley. Hmm, funny. I thought sure they came from behind the house. See, you're a small man to be handling those heavy cans here. Let me help you roll them out in front. Oh, that's all right, officer. I can manage them. Ah, nonsense. I hate to see a man hurt himself. I was out of work for three months meself once, lifting a car off a dead body. Well, you don't say. Here, here, I'll wrestle this one for you. Oh, my Thompson must do some heavy baking. Well, here goes. So there I am again, headed for the city dump. I'm afraid to open my app because I don't know whether Gerald has his cannon pointed at me or not, so I figure I'll let him roll me out to the sidewalk before I make my move. By the time I reach the street, I'm so dizzy, I feel like I'm in somebody's mixer with the dial set at Heavy Whip. Oh, thanks, officer. Well, you can just leave him right here. Oh, looks like we missed the morning pickup anyway. Yeah, there's an empty one here. Well, I'll just be moving along. Oh, thanks a lot. You're a real lifesaver. I hate to see a man strain himself. I was... Well, you're in luck. Here comes the garbage truck back from his run. I'll just stop him. Oh, no, no, no, no. There's no need for that. He's an old pal of mine. Hey, Hennessy. Hey. What's the... Well, well, if it ain't New York's finest officer, Clarence Kilcannon. Hey, Hank, do us a favor, will you? Ma Thompson missed the morning pickup, and she's got a couple of cans loaded to the brim. Would you dump them out? Thompson, huh? Say, you know, I was emptying one of her cans this morning, and a live character slips out and asks me if this is the subway. Ah, sure, and you're pulling my leg. May I never take another breath if it ain't true? Another drop would be more fitting here now. Hey, Charlie, give the officer a hand with those. I wouldn't want him to strain himself. Up we go. And off with the lids. Oh, no. Top of the can to you. What the? Hey, mister. Hey, come back. Officer, grab him. There's a corpse in that other can. Hey, come back. Come back or I'll shoot. My arm. Ah, stand still. It's just a scratch. Now, what's this about? He shot Mrs. Thompson's son. The body's in the other can. Officer, it's a lie. Yeah, well, we'll just go back and have a look. Hey, wait a minute. What is it? I know you're from someplace. The lineup, maybe? The lineup? By Godfrey, there's an APB out for this character. Gerald Kent, alias Kinsey, alias Kenoy. It's one of the Rensselaer Jewels theft with a woman named Norma Lynn. That's the boy. His wife's inside the house. Well, you'll just go in and see about that. Hey, Kev Cannon! What do you want me to do about the garbage? Stick around, Hennessy. We'll be out in a minute with two cans full. And you can dump him off at the city jail. NBC has presented Frank Sinatra as that footloose and fancy-free young gentleman, Rocky Fortune. Others in tonight's cast include Frank Richards, Gloria Ann Simpson, Jim Eagles, Virginia Gregg, Eddie Fields, and Maurice Hart. Tonight's script was written by George Lepperts. Andrew C. Love directed. Here is a question. What is the top speed you can safely drive after dark if you have to rely on your own headlights to show up danger? The answer, according to the National Safety Council, is 45 miles per hour. If you exceed 45, you're driving beyond the visibility limit of your headlights. Keep plenty of distance between yourself and the car ahead. The secret of safe driving is simply to use common sense. Take your time, not your life. Tonight, enjoy Fibber McGee and Molly on the NBC Radio Network. We just heard Frank Sinatra as Rocky Fortune. That will do it for this week's episode. Thanks so much for joining me. I'll be back next week as we continue our month-long series of Oscar-winning radio detective stars. Headlining the show next week will be Mercedes McCambridge. In the meantime, you can check out Stars on Suspense, my other old-time radio podcast. New episodes of that show are out on Thursdays. If you like what you're hearing, don't be a stranger. You can rate and review the show on Apple Podcasts or wherever you listen. And if you'd like to lend support to the show, you can visit buymeacoffee.com slash meanstsotr. I'll be back next week with more old-time radio detectives, but until then, good night and happy listening. And now here is our star, Vincent Price. Ladies and gentlemen, in a prejudice-filled America, no one would be secure in his job, his business, his church, or his home. Yet racial and religious antagonisms are exploited daily by quacks and adventurers whose followers make up the irresponsible, lunatic fringe of American life, refuse to listen to or spread rumors against any race or religion, help to stamp out prejudice in our country. Let's judge our neighbors by the character of their lives alone and not on the basis of their religion or origin.