Somewhere in the cold, persistent rain that made the city itself seem a thing of evil.
A girl had disappeared, and it was my job to find her.
But before I did, I found death and a devil.
From the pen of Raymond Trantler, outstanding author of crime fiction,
comes his most famous character as CBS presents...
The Adventures of Philip Marlowe.
And now, with Gerald Moore, starred as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's exciting story, The Black Halo.
For three days an ugly storm had lashed at the west coast from northern Oregon to the tip of lower California.
And although it was only noon when I drove up to the sprawling red brick house just south of Santa Barbara to meet a new client of mine,
the black that was in the sky and the driving rain that was everywhere left the day bleak and wet and cold.
Left it the kind of day that made you feel that logs blazing in a fireplace and a warm dry robe were the only things that could matter to anyone.
But when I got inside the house, Felix Drumm, 350 uncomfortable pounds of executive in a wheelchair,
who made his living importing perfumes, was very worried. And not about the weather outside.
Marlowe, Julia Perry is gone. I want you to find her and bring her back. And the sooner you do that, the better.
And the more I know, Mr. Drumm, the easier it'll be. Exactly who is Julia Perry?
My assistant. Very capable girl. Who in the past six months has practically taken over my entire business.
She handles most of the work from her cottage here on the grounds where she lives.
She also has some little cubby hole in Los Angeles where she keeps her files and some sample stock.
Do you have the address of that cubby hole?
If I knew the answer to everything, I wouldn't have hired you. And anyway, it isn't important. Hand me that little bottle.
This one? Yes. No, here. Thank you.
When did you last see Julia, Mr. Drumm?
Three days ago. It was three days ago when she left on one of her regular weekly trips down to Los Angeles to bid on perfumes.
Usually she stayed away overnight at the Beachwood Plaza Hotel most of the time. And she was back here by noon the next day.
I suppose you've already checked the Beachwood Plaza, huh?
Yes, of course. My man Ruby, the one who showed you in, has called the place a dozen times.
But they only know that Julia registered there three days ago and hasn't been seen since.
What about the girl herself, Mr. Drumm? I mean her background, friends, family, that sort of thing.
As far as I know, Marlowe, Julia has no friends, no family either. Just a sweet but smart little girl from some place in Kansas.
No bows, not even nice ones, huh?
I don't think she had the time. You see, when Julia first came to work for me, she wanted to get ahead and I gave her the chance. She made good.
Today she's as much my right arm as Ruby is my leg.
Mr. Drumm, did you notice anything unusual about Julia's behavior lately?
Yes, and that's the reason I'm worried. About two weeks ago, I saw changes in the girl, Marlowe. She seemed less spry, more preoccupied.
Oh?
Yes. I figured it was overwork myself, since the end of the year always means detailed annual reports. So I made no comment at the time.
I see. Tell me, Mr. Drumm, what does she look like?
Well, I have no pictures, but she's a blonde of medium height and was wearing a plaid raincoat and a little circle of a hat when she left.
Altogether she's sweet and simple, if that's what you mean.
Yeah. Do you mind if I stop into the cottage on my way out?
Marlowe, you turn the place inside out if it'll help any. Only since I'm certain that Julia's in some kind of bad trouble, you be quick and find her.
Julia Perry's cottage was strictly the 50-50 arrangement the Drumm had mentioned, with one room office and the other living quarters.
In the office, I found everything in its proper place, so I moved to the other room.
The moment I stepped over the threshold, the white fluff that trimmed the quilted bedspread and the splash of color in the drapes said that Julia Perry had to be something soft and warm.
The half a dozen quietly tailored suits that were lined up in the closet like a squad of soldiers facing right told me that she was all so simple and neat.
I ran through the pockets of her clothes and all the drawers and closets in the room, trying to find something that would give me a lead that I was sure I had to have.
After 20 minutes, I had found only a leather cigarette case, a package of peppermint lifesavers, and a maroon and gold monogram book of matches,
the cover of which was half torn off so that I could only be certain that the middle initial was a V and that an E or an F were on either end.
But since the name and address of an LA novelty company was on the inside, I bought the matches as a starting point, dropped them into my pocket and headed for the door.
When I opened it, I was surprised to find Ruby, Drum's right-hand man, purple scar and all, standing in the rain.
He was staring at me like my ears were spinning.
You seem to be a very thorough man, Mr. Private Detective.
And you seem to be a very nosy one. What do you want?
To help Julia, nothing else. Here's a postcard that came for her this morning. It was mailed in LA yesterday.
Ah? Dear Julia, tried to reach you at Santa Barbara 1181 both yesterday and today, but got no answer.
I'm leaving. I'm leaving town tomorrow. As one little girl who fled life in Haven, Kansas to another, I would have enjoyed seeing you again.
Or a bit before I moved on to who knows where. And...
Santa Barbara 1181, is that the number here?
Yeah, it's Julia's private business phone.
Well, what do you think, the postcard, any help?
Possibly. Tell me, Ruby, why didn't you show this to Mr. Drum?
I forgot about it until just now.
You're a liar.
Well, it's on account that the postcard was delivered here to the cottage.
Which is no man's land for you?
Sorta. Mr. Drum doesn't like people who work for him, mixing socially with each other.
Or maybe a sweet kid like Julia hasn't got any use for the passes you've been making at her.
Hold it. I like Julia, and even if she don't go for me, anything I can do to help her, I still do, understand?
Yeah, I understand. I'm not so sure I believe. Goodbye, Ruby.
It was pushing five o'clock and still raining by the time I got back to LA and over to the novelty company.
Once there, I presented the torn book of matches that I had found in Julia's cottage to a bald man with horizontal question marks for eyebrows.
And who, with a crinkle of a five dollar bill, tore himself away from his racing form long enough to check the files for a set of maroon and gold initials that had a V in the middle.
And it was six o'clock before I had the answer, which was E.V.E.
And they weren't initials, but the front name of Mrs. Eve Bentley, who lived in a villa at the Swank Sunset Terrace Apartments.
And according to the gentleman who said he knew his oats was a very classy filly.
An hour later, I was at Mrs. Bentley's front door, and while I made with the chimes and waited, I wondered just how much a guy who loves the ponies could know about women.
But when the door opened, I had my answer.
Yes? What is it?
Mrs. Eve Bentley wasn't beautiful, but she was everything else, including a shimmering yard of gold hair piled high on her head.
And held in place by a knot of pearls that no boy scout ever tied.
Her face was wide blue eyes and open red lips on a backdrop of soft, fair skin.
She wore a black silk jersey dress that must have been sprayed on.
She smiled when I said my name was Philip Marlowe and that I wanted to talk.
Talk about what, Mr. Marlowe?
Julia Perry. Ever hear of her?
No, I haven't.
Hmm. So I'll try again.
What do you know about Anne Somebody from Haven, Kansas?
Absolutely nothing.
This torn book of matches says otherwise. I found them in Julia Perry's cottage.
Julia Perry's missing. I'm a private detective who was hired to find her, and the matches turned out to be yours. How may I come in?
Why, why yes.
Thank you.
Well, Mrs. Bentley, maybe we ought to start all over again.
No, wait just a minute, Mr. Marlowe. I may be able to help you. Did this, uh, Julia Perry deal in perfumes?
That's right. Now, how did you know that?
Because I just remembered something. And now I'm sure I can explain why my matches showed up where they did.
Just a minute, just a minute. You know, whenever I'm talking to a beautiful woman, somebody's always creeping around in the kitchen. Who is it this time?
Oh, really, Mr. Marlowe? There's a storm outside and there are windows and trees. If you put those three things together, that noise could have been a branch scratching on a glass pane.
Or somebody with squeaky shoes and a lot of curiosity. Somebody like Mr. Bentley, for instance.
Oh, I doubt that, Mr. Marlowe. You see, Mr. Bentley's been dead now for three long years.
Oh, yes. Well, you were saying something about the matches.
Oh, yes. This, uh, Julia Perry must somehow have rather gotten hold of him through my fiancé, Marvin Whitaker.
How does that figure?
Like two and two. Marvin is in the perfume business. Ditto Julia. Also, I think he mentioned her name once. Said she was very clever for a girl who looked like somebody's kid sister.
That fits all right. Where will I find said fiancé?
At his favorite bar and grill. But won't you have a drink first, Mr. Marlowe?
No, thanks, Eve. There... there isn't time. Now the bar and grill.
The blue boar.
Blue which?
Boar, Mr. Marlowe.
Yeah.
It's a very English spot over on Wilshire opposite Arthur Murray's studio. But before you dash, do you at least have a match?
Yes. Hold book up, honey. Torn cover and all. And I want you to keep them. After all, they brought us together, didn't they?
When I got outside, I postponed my run between the raindrops over to Wilshire Boulevard long enough to take a look behind the villa.
And there in the newly planted strip of clover lawn below Mrs. Bentley's kitchen window, I found something which was no surprise. Two clear prints of a man's shoe.
But from there on out, I got nothing more than a lot of rain down the back of my neck. So ten minutes later, I dripped into my car and headed for the blue boar and Eve Bentley's gentleman friend.
I located Marvin Whitaker, a handsome, hailed fellow well-met, in a white turtleneck sweater and wading breeches.
Behind a hot, rum toddy in a corner booth that was pictures of steeplechase mounts against newly antique mahogany.
And when I told him that I was looking for Julia Perry, he flashed a lot of glistening teeth at me, insisted that I join him in a warming glass of spirits, and started to talk, gesturing all the time with a writing crop.
Why, yes, old man, I know Julia Perry. In fact, I almost did some business with her today.
You mean you were supposed to meet Julia someplace?
That's right. At 1881 Selma Avenue, to be precise. But she called me this morning and postponed the whole transaction. Indefinitely.
Could you stop projecting long enough to tell me why?
She didn't say. Of course, it's of no bother to me on a day like this. No sane man should be any farther away from a toddy than we are right now. So drink up, old boy. It'll do you a world of good.
Yeah, yeah, I bet it will. Look, Mr. Whitaker, one more question. Did Julia ever speak of a girlfriend named Dan, someone she knew years ago in Kansas?
No, I don't believe she did, Marlow. Matter of fact, Julia never talked of anything but perfumes. Now drink your drink, fellow, before it's chilled through.
Thanks, but no thanks, old bean. I do have to run, really.
It was a 20-minute drive to the address on Selma, and the rain had stopped by the time I got there.
The place was one of those once-upon-a-time rooming houses that had been partitioned off into a couple of dozen 2x4 cubbyholes, just big enough for the very small businessman to fill his fountain pen in.
When I got to the door and asked the scrub woman, who was a lot of wild red hair around two Popeyes with Julia Perry, I knew I was moving in the right direction, because the lady standing in front of me was anything but calm.
And more important, she had just heard a pistol shot from the back of the house.
Yes, that's right, a pistol shot not over two minutes ago. I'm sure that Perry girl had something to do with it, because when I come from inside, I saw her rush out down these steps.
Did she say anything?
I don't know. She was gone out of sight before I could open my mouth, but I know it was her on account of that plaid coat and little hat she wears.
Yeah, yeah. Now which room is hers? Come on.
Well, that one there with the light showing under the door. But it's locked. You won't be able to get in. I just tried.
Well, we'll try again for luck. It's not the best slumber. Believe me.
This is terrible. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I...
It's a man.
Yeah, a dead one at that, Granny.
Do you know who it is?
Uh-huh. With the mud and clover grass on the bottom of his shoes, I tagged him as a guy who was looking in a lady's kitchen window about an hour ago.
But from that purple scar on his chin, I can do even better than that. The name Granny is Ruby, a guy I thought was still in Santa Barbara.
In just a moment, we will return to the second act of the adventures of Philip Marlowe. But first, given clues, even the newest of Philip Marlowe fans can deduce the characters in CBS's great new early Sunday evening comedy lineup.
The washboard leads you to the one and only Spike Jones. The bumblebee? Well, of course, that's for America's most famous non-virtuoso violinist Jack Benny, who follows Spike Jones on CBS.
The two A's, Amos and Andy, who are heard on CBS immediately following Jack Benny. So it's really no mystery at all why millions of Americans now stay tuned to CBS on Sunday nights for these three superb comedy shows in succession.
Spike Jones and Amos and Andy over most of these same CBS stations, and Jack Benny over them all.
And now with our star Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlowe and tonight's story, The Black Halo.
Ruby's body sprawled on the floor and the girl in the plaid raincoat running away from it meant one thing.
Julia Perry's trouble was important, like life, but more like death. A half sneer was congealed on Ruby's face and his eyes turned waxy, still held a look of mild surprise.
I wasted some breath telling the scrub woman not to touch anything and then I put in a call to my overweight client in Santa Barbara. He was glad to hear from me at first.
Marlowe, well now I didn't expect a call from you this soon. You sure work fast, don't you lad? Have you found her? Have you located Julia? Not quite. She's about five minutes ahead of me. Incidentally, Mr. Drum, she works fast too.
What do you mean by that? Let me ask the questions. Number one, what was your leg man Ruby doing in LA tonight? Ruby? Yeah.
Why, I sent him in to pick up some medicine for me. Why? Come on Drum, you can talk straighter than that and you're better. I just found Ruby dead.
Dead? Ruby's dead? What happened to her Marlowe? It was shot. So forget the gags and tell me why he was snooping around.
Alright. I didn't trust you. It's my policy to trust nobody until he proves himself. I sent Ruby in to follow you and check on your progress.
That was brilliant. You only made three mistakes. First, I don't need to be checked on. Second, you got your man killed and third, you forced Julia's hand because it was Miss Perry herself who pulled the trigger on Ruby.
Julia? Marlowe, I don't believe that. Which proves nothing Mr. Drum, but skip it. Tell me, do you know a man named Marvin Whitaker? Whitaker? Yeah.
Oh, should I? Well, he says he's in the perfume business. I know everybody on the coast who bought more than two bottles of perfume at one time in the last 40 years and I don't recall that name. I think the man must be a liar.
So do I. Thanks for the help. And Drum, if you've got any more expendable flunkies around, keep them out of my hair. I'll call you when I've got something.
I called homicide next and told Detective Lieutenant Ibarra where to find the body and who was responsible for it being in that dead condition. When the question of why came up, I admitted I was still shooting blanks.
I told him about the razzle-dazzle Whitaker had handed me and named the blue boar on Wilshire as my next stop. Ibarra said he'd called me there and when I got to the entrance of the place I saw Whitaker, draped in a trench coat that involved enough cloth to rig a foremastered schooner, standing in the ante room, impatiently smacking his leg with that riding crop.
He looked positively dashing. Question was which way? Hi there Marlowe. Hey old boy, you look upset, anything wrong?
I may be upset Whitaker but you're the one that's going to spill. First are you leaving or coming back? I'm just leaving. Been here all the time since I talked to you? That's right, you see, my coat is perfectly dry.
You stopped raining half an hour ago. Well, you see, if I'd been outside I would have known that. But why this third degree Marlowe, what's up? It's a long story. Maybe we better sit down and talk it all over from the beginning.
Oh I'm afraid I can't, not just now, I've got a date. Chill, keep. Not this one, it's something rather special. Special huh? Like Eve Bentley?
Now look here old boy, you're prying into my personal affairs. Whitaker, I'll rip the lid clear off your personal affairs if necessary to get a clean answer out of you.
Now what do you really know about Julia Perry? I told you once, are you implying that I'm a liar? At least that. For instance, who puts out a mirror? Come on Whitaker, it's a well known fragrance.
Why, I don't recall offhand. That's strange, because any woman knows Amir's a Dana perfume. Just what are you trying to prove by all this?
That it's a perfume dealer, you stink. And try this for size. When I got to that address you gave me, I found a fresh corpse there with a bullet hole in it.
A murder? Yeah, and your routine was Pat brother, so before homicide starts combing out the snags in your story, you better untangle it yourself right now. You lied to me. And why'd you do it Whitaker, why the double-tongue?
Alright Marlow, I'll tell you. I'll tell you this!
It was as quick as a wounded cat. A riding crop slashed across my face even before I'd realized he'd moved. And by the time the red light stopped dancing in my eyes, Bob and Whitaker was gone. I turned as the head waiter walked up to me. He studied the hot red wealth rising on my face for a moment and then murmured discreetly that if my name was Marlow, I was wanted on the phone. It was alternatively Borah.
Marlow, you can stop beating the brush with Judy Perry, we found her.
You did? Where is she, Ibarra?
She's out in the alley here, behind the Beachwood Plaza Hotel, Marlow. Exactly eight floors down from the window of her room. She fell through the glass roof above the rear entrance.
Oh.
It's not pretty.
She explained the whole thing, including that ruby guy's murder in a note we found in her room.
I'll be right over, Ibarra.
Okay, don't hurry.
Oh, sorry, Marlow, when Drum finally got around to trusting her, he practically gave her his business. It was too much temptation.
She'd been stealing from him in a big way for almost a year, her note says.
And she decided to run for it when she knew she couldn't hide the thefts any longer, huh?
That's right. That ruby caught on some way and she killed him, but I guess murder was too rich for her blood, so she came back here, thought it over, and checked out.
Yeah. All she left behind was a little plaid raincoat and a purse over there.
Hey, she was wearing a dinky hat too, Ibarra, did you find that?
Come over here to the window, Phil. See down there on that canopy, that little black circle, that's her hat. I sent Moony down to get it. Can't leave any loose ends around, you know?
Yeah. Got a light, Lieutenant?
Sure. Here you are.
Thanks.
Hey, what happened to you? That welt on your face, Phil.
I backed that horsey liar named Whitaker into a corner and he slapped his way out with a riding crop.
And speaking of loose ends, if I ever catch up with that...
Hmm?
Ibarra, where did that stuff from the dresser come from?
This? Out of the pockets of Judy's plaid coat. Why?
That's impossible unless... Holy smoke. That's why Whitaker lied to me. Hey, where are you going with that, Phil? Come back here!
I gotta check on something, Ibarra, and keep your notebook handy. If I'm right, this deal is still wide open.
All the way from the suicide room in the Beachwood Plaza out to the widow's villa in the Sunset Terrace, my mind juggled a jumble of facts trying to beat them into a brand new pattern.
A pattern that had to include an object Ibarra had found in the pocket of that plaid raincoat.
It almost made sense. But I needed just a little more.
Now, when I turned into the parking lot at the Sunset Terrace, rain began to fall again. Thin, cold rain.
I walked to Eve Bentley's door and pressed the bell.
Just as I expected, it was Marvin Whitaker, unsmiling and nervous, who answered the door.
I didn't give him a chance to think. I just swung hard!
Hey!
Okay, horseman, that squares us up.
Come on, heavy, roll over. Let's see if you're carrying a gun.
Okay, no gun.
Now, be a good boy, Whitaker, and you'll make out all right. But one funny wiggle out of you and I'll crack your skull. It's a promise, do you hear me?
Yeah, yeah, I heard you.
All right. Now, where's Eve? Is she here?
You'll find out for yourself, Marlow. I'm through.
Fair enough. But just so I'm not talking through my head, I'll take a look in her closet first.
She won't be in there, I guarantee.
No, but her future might be.
Now, let's see. It's got to be in here someplace.
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. This is probably it.
Brown cloth coat. A chic as a pair of hobnail boots and still damp.
And the label says the B.H. company, Haven, Kansas. That does it.
I've got it all now and my chivalry just died. Where is she? Whitaker, where's Eve?
Right here, Marlow. Uh-oh, don't try that.
I guess you really do have it figured out, haven't you?
Yes, Eve, I have.
Sorry it turned out this way because you had your points as Eve and as Julia.
Don't put it in the past tense, Marlow.
As Eve bent me, my life is just beginning and now I've got everything I ever wanted as Julia Perry.
Then you're Julia Perry. I was, Marley.
She still is, Whitaker. At least that's what the bailiff will call it in court.
There won't be any court, Marlow. I'm afraid there will, baby.
You're twice a killer now and both for the same reason, remember?
First Ruby because he saw you as Eve.
And the girl you pushed out of the hotel window who was no doubt Anne, your old chum from the hometown.
She must have seen you posing as Eve, too.
All right, Marlow. Anne ran into me by accident and ruined everything. I had no choice.
I promised her money and then told her to go to my room at the Beechwood Plaza and wait for me.
Eve, I can't believe this. It can't be true.
Yes, Marvin, it is true.
Darling, I didn't want this mess. I'd have left town this morning as I intended if sweet sly little Anne hadn't seen me.
I tried to get rid of you the easy way, Marlow.
When I sent you to Marvin, the Selma Street address he gave you should have led you to the end of Julia Perry.
Is that why you phoned me and told me to lie to Marlow?
Yes, Marvin. I was going there to write my suicide note and use the stockroom for my disappearing act.
But Ruby caught me and after that I had to work fast.
But it's all right now. It all worked out perfectly.
They were the only two who knew besides you, Marlow.
Aren't you forgetting little Marvin here?
Forgetting him? Oh no, Mr. Marlow. Marvin is the one person I can count on.
That's what you think. You don't get me mixed up in this.
Marvin.
I bargained for an heiress, not a murderess.
Why you dirty load.
All right then. I'll use this gun on you too because I'm getting out of here and no one's going to stop me.
But you're right between us, Eve. You can't get us both.
He's right, baby. You're not good enough to get us both and killing just one of us isn't going to solve anything. What are you saying?
It's been a long night, baby. You just couldn't tell when you were late.
You want any more of this coffee, Marlow?
It's sludge, Lieutenant. I wonder what Julia Perry uses for a heart.
You know, she planned the thing for six months when she first set herself up as Eve Bentley. And it probably would have...
You want to check now?
Oh, oh yes.
Probably would have worked if everything hadn't closed in on her.
Yeah, her friend Dan from Kansas, Ruby the leg man.
And you with that torn book of matches. Incidentally, that was pretty fast figuring up in the hotel room there, Marlow.
Oh, not so fast, Eborah. I knew Eve had those matches because I left them with her.
So when you found the same matches in the pocket of Julia's plaid coat, it figured, Julia almost had to be Eve.
And that left Anne to furnish the body for the suicide.
Yeah. You know, I wasn't so sure about that until I found the brown coat with the Haven, Kansas label in Eve's apartment.
Yeah. Well, I'd better wait on back to the office, Phil. Look at that rain come down. Think it'll ever stop.
I don't know. I doubt it.
Oh, by the way, here, it's her hat. Mooney finally got it out off that hotel canopy. Maybe you'd like it for a souvenir.
Yeah.
The military people call it a halo hat. Good night, Marlow.
I sat there a while after Eborah left, looking at the rain in the street, the cold coffee in front of me, and Julia's little round halo on the table.
And finally I got up and went outside. Dirty waters scutted along the gutter and gurgled thickly into the sewer drain at the corner.
For a minute, I caught a glimpse again of the girl I'd figured Julia Perry to be when I went through her cottage in Santa Barbara.
Yeah, that girl was an angel.
When I finally caught up with her, a halo turned out to be black jet black inside and out.
I dropped a little hat into the gutter and watched it go as far as the drain at the corner. And then I went home.
The Adventures of Philip Marlow, created by Raymond Chandler, stars Gerald Moore and is produced and directed by Norman McDonald.
Script is by Mel Dennelly, Robert Mitchell, and Gene Levitt. Featured in the cast were Joan Banks, Paul Fries, Peter Leeds, Jack Prusian, and Lois Corbett.
Lieutenant Detective Abar is played by Jeff Corey. The special music was by Richard O'Ronn.
Be sure and be with us again next week when Philip Marlow says...
A startled corpse, a blue-eyed woman, and a cryptic message scrawled by a dingy man with the pieces of a Chinese puzzle that wouldn't fit together until I found out what was deadly about the orange dog.
You'll find a whole hour of fun, variety, music, and thrills on Sing It Again tonight and every Saturday, for it's heard over most of these same CBS network stations.
Now, stay tuned for Gangbusters, which follows immediately over most of these same stations.
This is Roy Rowan speaking for CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.