A corpse that wouldn't stay dead.
A pistol with a silencer on it and a fortune in a black satchel.
Spelled death for the big city boys when they finally got together in lonesome Arizona.
Population, 802.
From the pen of Raymond Chandler, 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 Lonesome Reunion.
And...
At 8,000 feet on a clear afternoon, you can see enough Arizona real estate to become an
authority on the subject. And as I huddled around a circle of window aboard an American
Airlines flagship and gaped like a two weeks with pay vacationer at the carpet of sand,
stone and cactus unrolling a slow inch at a time below, I was impressed. Also,
I was thinking about a job which was providing both a switch and scenery and two crisp $100 bills.
Less the cost of a round trip ticket from LA to the capital city of Phoenix.
But then at the thought of money, I stopped sightseeing and started to think about the
work ahead and how easy it had sounded that morning in my office. When Kay Gordon knew
was something pretty and blonde, but slightly tarnished for 28, it hired me all in one bread.
Marlowe, my brother Joe Gordon is in a room at the Granada Court Hotel in Phoenix, Arizona.
In one hand, he no doubt has his usual smelly cigar and the other, a small suitcase filled
with a mess of papers, all legal, all proper. You fly there, pick up the suitcase, fly back for that
$200 cash. Yes or no? Yes, on one condition, the papers. Do I get to see them? If I look,
I go. All right, you look. Good, I go. Goodbye. That was the way it had started an hour after
breakfast. Lunch was alone and at the airport. Then it would wait until I'd seen Mr. Joe Gordon,
a man who was willing to pay a lot for a little. My plane dropped out of the sky over Phoenix gently
at three. At 315, I was in room 111 of the Granada Hotel and only 36 smelly inches away from the
usual cigar. The man behind it was heavy, pale and maybe 40. Like his sister, Joe Gordon was
overbearing in a hurry. This, Marlowe, is the bag. They use the papers, stocks, bonds and mortgages.
In themselves, worthless to anyone else, they're non-negotiable. But as information to my
competitors, they're priceless. Satisfied? More or less. Meaning what? Exactly what is your line,
Mr. Gordon? Oh, I'm a broker, one who bets on long shots. When they come in, I don't like to split
with the boys who sit on their hands. Anything else? Yeah, yeah, I've got some time to kill before
I fly back. Do I take the bag now or later? You take the bag now, Marlowe. Okay. And don't let go
of it until you're with my sister in L.A. I'm paying you money to stay away from my enemies,
not to shop for trinkets. Oh. Oh, and incidentally, my enemies also play rough,
so watch your step and act smart. Real smart.
I still had two hours to kill when Gordon locked the bag and handed it to me after dropping the key
in his pocket. So I decided to take a room there at the Granada Hotel, shave, shower and stretch.
The sleepy clerk in the lobby was not in a hurry, nor did he hear anything I said the first time.
So when I finally got to my suite on the second floor, which had as much elbow room as the inside
of a lifesaver, 30 of the idle minutes were already gone. I locked and bolted the door,
checked all the windows carefully, and then peeled off my shirt, broke out my shave master,
and reached for the knob on the bathroom door. But I never made it. Because as the door swung open,
I caught a glimpse of a fist the size of a cantaloupe starting from my jaw. Oh, stay right
there, buster. The first time I swing, the second time I shoot, and I do both good. Equal nice, huh?
Everything all figured out ahead of time. Yeah, but it ain't very hard, Marlow, especially when the guy
you're after shouts it all to a desk clerk. My error. Yeah, which leaves just the three of us,
real cozy like. Three. You, me, and 120 grand here in this bag. You're way off base, brother.
This bag's got papers in it, nothing more. They belong to a businessman. I said something. Yes,
you're very funny. Look, buster, Joe Gordon's no more a businessman, and his real name is Joe
Gordon. So after I leave, you go back to Sam Dietrich in room 111 and tell him that Marty
Stopka says thanks. For what? For the $120,000 I've been waiting two long years for. And also
tell him and Gigi Ganter, who might still be around, that Stopka had it all figured, like you say,
Marlow, ahead of time. I don't follow you, bud. You're not supposed to. Just turn around, face the
wall, and listen carefully. You tell Sam Dietrich that I knew he'd pull something like this just as
soon as he got back into circulation. You got that? Yeah, yeah. Word for word, Stopka. Good. Now all
you have to do is remember. When Marty Stopka said remember, he put that cantaloupe with fingers in
the small of my back and shoved hard. By the time I got to my feet again, both he and the black bag
were gone. That made Joe Gordon or Sam Dietrich my best bet. So I took the stairs to the ground
floor fast and raced for the end of the corridor in room 111. When I threw the unlocked door open,
I found something I hadn't counted on. A curtain flapping in the breeze of an open window and
nothing more. The desk drawers, the closet, the bureau empty. And on an end table next to the
telephone, a bus schedule unmarked. At that, I was beginning to get very mad at a private detective
with public patsy named Philip Marlow. Then the telephone rang, and when I answered it, the
operator said that she had a long distance call for Joe Gordon. I said thanks, I'd take it. Hello?
Sam, this is Kay. I... Marlow? Yeah, honey, Joe Marlow is in Brother Gordon, remember?
Oh, I can explain all that, Marlow. Oh, sure, sure, baby, but not now, later. Later,
after you've had a chance to think up a few more lies. All right, all right. So I didn't tell you
the whole story. What's the difference? Did you get the bag? I did, but I didn't get to keep it
very long. Something ugly named Stopka wanted either it or my life, so I made a quick decision.
Stopka has the bag? Oh, that's great. Yeah, yeah, isn't it though? One thing, baby, I'm the decoy
with suitcase for some kind of shenanigan that's wrapped around 120 grand, which you and Sam
Dietrich have, and there's a trio in the act, namely Sam Dietrich, Marty Stopkin, one Gigi Ganthard.
Gigi? Marlow, have you seen Gigi? Have you, Marlow? Maybe yes, maybe no. Why don't you come clean,
admit you're happy that Stopka got the suitcase from me while Sam beat it out of an open window
that my part of the job is over with. Come on, baby, talk. All right, I'll make it short and to
the point. You got $200 for doing nothing. Out of that, 60 odd went for an airplane ticket. The rest
is yours, right? Go on. There's no need to, Marlow. I'm finished and so are you. So why don't you just
be a good fella and keep the change. So long, sucker. When Kay Gordon hung up, I slammed the
phone down, counted 10 twice and went back to the unhappy business of getting mad at Marlow.
But again, I was interrupted. This time it was a newspaper, the Phoenix Herald,
sticking far enough out of the wastebasket under the telephone to expose the dateline,
which made it exactly a week old. I picked it up and saw the two inches of story circled in pencil
and slugged five released from state penitentiary. Sam Dietrich, 41 of Los Angeles, who was arrested
in Lonesome, Arizona for the armed robbery of a general store in February 1947, also was released
today. Now everything was beginning to add with one high priced exception. Very few general stores
in towns called Lonesome keep 120,000 bucks on the till, even on a busy day. So I headed for the
office of the Phoenix Herald and the chance that I could learn something about the cash involved from
newspapers that were two years better than one week old.
30 minutes later, I was in the back shop of the Herald receiving facts willingly supplied by a
Sandy Head liner type operator with a sad face who had never heard the word forget. That's right,
mister. It was the second national bank of land company here in town held up at 1 10 p.m. February
7, 1947 by three men who took $120,000 in unmarked cans, 20s and 50s. One was badly wounded and run
gunfight, but they all got away clean. No arrests, no suspects? Rather than the usual rigmarole or
trying to pin the job and every two bit stick up man hauled in next six months? No. Anything else?
No, thanks. I don't think so. Wait a minute. Lonesome, Arizona, that unmarked bus schedule.
Tell me, do you happen to know where something called Lonesome is? And if so, how a guy could
get there if he doesn't have a car? Sure. 87 miles west of here and the bus will do the trick,
but not anymore today. The only bus left an hour ago. And now young fellow, you tell me something.
What in Sam Hill is Lonesome and a bus departure got to do with a bank robbery was pulled two years
ago? Where I stand right now, Dad, I can't say. When I get to Lonesome, ask me again. I may have
the answer for you. I was 30 minutes renting a car and an hour and 30 minutes getting to Lonesome
population 802. I drove without seeing anything that could possibly be mistaken for Sam Dietrich.
And I was about to turn back when I saw something that brought my right foot down hard on the brake.
It was a brand new green Nash standing outside a motel, California license plate. I got out of my car
and got a look at the registration card wrapped around the steering wheel. It said Catherine E.
Gordon. The motel only had three cabins that showed any light. The first belonged to the manager and
the second decaying close to an open window. I saw the man Kay was talking to. He was an ex convict
and part time broker named Sam Dietrich. All right. All right. So Marlowe knows he was set up for Marty
Stavka. Who cares? We're here and so far Stavka isn't. And even when he does show, we'll be gone
with the real black bag safe in our hands. Yes. But what about Gigi Sam? I told you Marlowe
mentioned his name. And I told you to forget it. Well, it must've been swinging in the dark. Gigi
can't be alive. Kay. He was badly hurt when Stavka and I got clear of the bank. But why wasn't his
body found? I don't know Kay. I've told you that a thousand times. Now, now look, honey, why don't
you just relax and think of us a little, huh? Gigi's dead baby. There's only you and me. Sam,
you know how I feel about that. I love Gigi. The only reason I'm helping you, I don't want anything
to do with this money. I only want to know for sure about Gigi. Okay. Okay. Hey, did you get a line on
Leland Mills, the name that was on that mailbox two years ago? Yes. Yes. He owns the place and
lives there alone. Once upon a time, small ranch on the last block in town coming apart at the
seams. What about Mills himself? He's an old friend, maybe 50. Lives close to the fireside,
day in and day out. Good. That means I can handle him without any trouble. And now look, baby, it's
seven now. At nine, this town will be fast asleep and at 10, I'll take care of everything.
So why don't you just curl up there on the couch and think about nice things? Oh, nice things like
what? Well, like the money I hid at Leland Mills place five hours after the boys and I took that
bank. The $120,000 that's soon going to be back here with me where it belongs.
And I took my cue and left because one Leland Mills was a man to be forewarned while 10 o'clock
was still three hours away. I was 10 minutes finding his place, which was on the edge of town
and another two locating the doorbell, which was the kind you pull to start a bunch of jingling
inside. It was three pulls later before the door creaks slowly open and what had to be Leland Mills
stood in front of me. It was shaggy gray hair curling on the sides of his neck, a face with
a thousand crisscrossed wrinkles and dirty old clothes. Everything I'd expected with one exception
gripped firmly in both hands and pointed directly at my head was a long, long rifle.
Who are you? Mr. Mills? Maybe. Well, I'm a private detective named Philip Marlow, also someone who
knows that there's $120,000 in cash hidden here on your grounds. $120,000? To the penny, yes. Two
years ago, Mr. Mills, a Phoenix bank was robbed by three toughs named Dietrich Stapka and Gigi
Ganter. Gigi? That's a queer name. It's not important, old man, but this is. Now somehow
or other that stolen money was hidden here in or around your place and tonight one of those men is
due back to collect. That of course means trouble for you. You think we should call the law? No,
no, not yet. If we play it smart, we can get the dough spotted first and at least one of the three.
All right, Mr. Marlow, if you're sure of what you're saying, I only hope you are. Oh, I'm
sorry about this gun here. I don't like poachers on my land. Yeah, we all have our pet peeves. Now,
Mr. Mills, I want you to sit tight till I get back and no matter what happens,
don't open that door for anyone. Have you got that? Yep. Where are you going? To town.
Check on the only two things that can possibly give us any unexpected trouble. On a nasty man
named Marty Stupka and the other guy I've never even seen, the elusive Mr. G.G. Ganter.
In just a moment, we will return to the second act of the adventures of Philip Marlow. But first,
that elusive phantom voice will be back on CBS's great show Sing It Again tonight and the prize for
identifying him has now climbed to a value of $24,500. Yes, for music, suspense and sensational
prizes, don't miss the Sing It Again show tonight over most of these same CBS stations.
And now with Gerald Moore starred, we return to the second act of Philip Marlow and tonight's
story, the Lonesome Reunion. I left Leland Mills standing in the doorway and worried my way back
to town. If Stupka and G.G. Ganter had no more trouble getting Lonesome than I did, a reunion
about as quiet as a truckload of hot dynamite was due to take place any minute. I passed the
motel where Kay and Dietrich had holed up and saw that her car had been moving into the stall
between cabins and draped with a blanket to hide its California place. So they were thinking along
the same line that I was. At the hub of town, I parked and started to case the lively spots on
Main Street, which took me all of 10 minutes at a slow walk. But a short side of the mouth
conversation with a couple of resident sports revealed that the local underground stem from
the Red Dog Cafe, a warped wood two story wiki up on the one side street in town. It was operated
by a hard bitten blonde, 160 pounds of Western motif complete with Stetson, red flannel shirt,
Hickok belt, blue jeans and the name Flora. She sat at a table at the back of the bar room,
lending a cynical air to nobody else but my old pal Stupka. I walked up behind him and when he
turned around, I hung one on him. A good one. Hey, sloppy old jackass, what do you think you're doing?
Sorry, Flora, nothing personal. Now that's enough. Now stop it, you hear me? No rough
hustling in my joint. Come on handsome, I mean you. Me? Why Flora, how can you say that? I just came in
to ask my old pal here some questions, that's all. Here we go, pal. Come on, sit up in that chair.
Okay, okay, let me alone. See Flora, it's the only way Stupka here knows how to start a
conversation. Bring him another beer, will you, as old wind got spilled. Sure, bright boy. When he
see that you dude tourists leave your beefs outside next time. Now look, Stupka, I want to know what
happened two years ago on that highway out here. You guys split up, didn't you? You better talk,
Stupka. All right, we split up. The heat was on bad and Gigi was half dead already from a cop slug
in his back. Dietrich had all the dough, right? What do you think? I left him and Gigi off outside
the town. I took the car to try to suck the cops away from them. We were supposed to meet later.
Which kept going to save your own hide, didn't you? Sadly, it's gonna pay off sucker, you'll see.
Uh-huh, since the money was never found, you figure Dietrich hit it around here and he's coming back to
dig it up. Is that it? Keep guessing, Shalmas. Maybe we ought to loosen your jaw again. Stop it.
Daco, you too. Now turn loose if you're handsome and by Sadie I'll plug you. Well, a real genuine 44.
What museum? Just swipe that from, Flora. Never mind. Got a legal right to defend the peace and
quiet of my joint and after 22 years in this dodge I know how to do it. Now I asked you nice once,
now I'm telling you. You, get out. That back door there. Sure I'll go, sister. Thanks for...
Hey, wait a minute, Flora. Don't let that lug get away. Shut up. Now you sit down right there and count
up to 50. Then you leave by the front, quietly. Okay, you win. One, two, three. Flora, look out.
He's back. Sorry, Eddie. You buzzard, mate. I'll leave this cannon on the back steps. So long, Flora.
I beat it out the back door and into an alleyway between the shacks.
Stopka was still in sight but walking fast and when I took after him he saw me and started to run.
There was a hard flat sound like someone striking wet sand with a hammer.
Stopka faltered and lurched up on his toes as if he'd suddenly changed his mind about running.
The same instant on a wall, even with him, I saw the shadow of a man holding a pistol with a long
awkward barrel. The hard flat sound came again. Stopka curled up on himself and fell.
And the shadow slid off the wall, disappeared. I ran for the wounded man but by the time I got to
him there was no trace of the gunman. A roll Stopka over. He was hit hard, slipping away fast.
Silence. Gigi always used his silence.
Punk Gigi.
You're dead, huh? You wise guys never know when to quit, do you? You're in real trouble now, handsome.
Hey, wait a minute. I didn't do this. Come on, I couldn't hear the shots of silencing.
Yeah, that's right. A trademark of a guy named Gigi Gantha. All I saw of him was his shadow on
that wall there. Say, what kind of law have you got in this town, Flora?
None. Except the highway patrol. They stop in every night.
Okay, call them. Get them over here. This guy's Marty Stopka wanted for a bank job nearly two years old.
No kidding. Who are you, his trainer? I'm a private detective who's got no business here
except I don't like to be pushed around. Now listen, do you know Leland Mills Place at the edge of town?
Sure. Well, you get the cops out of Mills Place by 10 30, do you understand? That's where the big
attraction is going to be if I can keep Gigi in his silence and from interfering again.
Now let me down, beautiful. I won't let you down, handsome. For a city boy, you're all right.
I stuck to a back road and drove with my lights out until I was a good, safe, distant friend.
I was a good, safe, distant friend. I was a good, safe, distant friend.
Leland Mills Ranch. And I hit the car in a dry gully and walked back.
The house was dark and still. And I thought once of what might have happened to Mills if
Gigi had gotten there ahead of me. I kept in the shadows and worked my way across the yard
to the back door. Who's there?
Hello. Open up. I was beginning to worry. It's pretty near 10 o'clock.
Yeah, I know. I know. Seen anybody so far? Nope. Nope, not a soul. I've been watching close too.
Did you find them men? That Gigi, that Stopka? Yeah. Stopka's dead and as kill as you to show up
here any time now. Oh. We're going to have our hands full. I... Wait a minute, is that a car?
Sure sounds like one. Yep. There, you can just make it out. Turned in down by the culvert and stopped.
Yeah, like a man got out. Yeah, yeah, there he goes across the field there behind your shed.
It's Dietrich. I'm going out now Mills. You stay here. No, I'm going too. That that fellow's
heading right for my water tank. All right, he's heading for your water tank. Don't get excited.
You'll tip our mitt. I get this Mills. You've got to stay here and watch for Gigi. He's bound to show
up and when he does, you better have that rifle of yours handy because he's a killer. You understand?
Yep. Sure, I understand. Don't worry Marlow. I'll keep my eyes open. Don't you worry about a thing.
When I eased out of the door and started across the yard, I knew I was getting myself out on a
nice long limb. Leland Mills was about as reliable as William Tell with their hiccups and the apple
was on my head. It was too late to back up so I skirted the barn, stayed below the crest of a
low rise, moved toward the elevated water tank until I heard a shovel biting dirt.
I got a comfortable grip on my gun headed up over the rise to where I could see.
Yeah, it was Dietrich all right. He was bent over under the tank and working on a hole as if his
life depended on it. He didn't even look up until I was almost on top of him.
Who is it? Who's there? Who is it? Me, Mr. Gordon. Marlow. Marlow, how did you get here?
Wasn't easy, Sammy boy. But I had to come and apologize for losing your precious bag
full of waste paper. You sure picked a dangerous time to show, sucker. You were fired once. Too
bad you can't take a hint. Uh-huh. And being tagged as a patsy is lousy for my business, Dietrich.
You should have thought of that. Just leave your hands on that shovel handle, Sam, and keep on
digging. Maybe I'll let you take a peek at that 120 grand before I turn you both over to the
police. Go on, dig. No. Not so fast, Marlow. Mills, I told you to stay in the... Hey.
Hey. Hey, that's quite a pistol. Don't move. Neither one of you. I'll kill you if you move.
You, Marlow, drop your gun. Drop it.
This is where it's been all the time. A hundred and twenty thousand dollars. I've looked everywhere,
every day, for two whole years, but I... I never thought of looking here under the water tank.
You mean you knew where the money was all the time? You lie. You lie. I'm the only one that knew that.
Oh, no. One night, two years ago, I heard a noise in my barn. It was a man groaning. I looked in and
I saw him. He was wounded. And I saw you when you come back from burying the money. I overheard the
whole thing. You wouldn't tell him where you'd hidden it. You said you'd never tell anybody,
but I was sure I could find it, and I looked everywhere except... Yeah, Mills, everywhere
except here, under the water tank, where you buried Gigi's body after you killed him,
and with his own gun at that. Oh, no, I didn't kill him. Dietrich here did. I only buried him,
so nobody would find out that him and Dietrich had stopped at my place. I almost went crazy
looking for that money, but now I know where it is, and I'm gonna have it. You fool, you don't think
I'd come out here with nothing but a shovel, do you? A friend of mine is right behind you with a gun in
her hand. So come on, drop yours, Rube. Come on, come on, drop it. All right. K. That's an old trick,
Dietrich. Let him have it. Shoot, K, shoot. Didn't work, did it? I knew I'd have to kill you some time
anyway if you ever came back. So... You fool, Mills. I suppose that makes me next. Yep, Mr. Marlow,
I think it does. Think again, Mr. Mills. What? Who's that? K. You were there all the time,
and Dietrich wasn't bluffing. Oh, I love you, K, baby, and I'll take the gun now, Mills.
Turn it loose. Come on, I'll break your arm. There. That's better. I'll look after this gun until the
police get here. And look after this one too, Marlow. I haven't got the courage to use it anyway.
I couldn't even shoot Sam Dietrich with it. He's the one I wanted to use it on. Why? Because of
Gigi? Yeah, because he killed Gigi and lied to me. I promised to help Dietrich only because I figured
all three of them would show up here, Sam, Stopka, and Gigi. That way I hope to find them again.
You were right, baby. All three of them did show up. Only this time they finished their job. For good.
It was 10.30 on the nose when we got back to the house, and the highway patrol had just pulled up.
So the question and answer period started, and by the time it was over,
all the field work finished up, four hours plus had gone by. It took some fast conversation,
a lot of promises to stay handy, but finally Kay was left with me. After all, her only real mistake
had been falling in love with the wrong kind of a guy. When the last patrol car drove away,
the desert was suddenly very still. The stars were small and sharp in the clear sky.
The air was cold. Maybe that was why Kay Gordon trembled.
My Lord, I'm sorry about all this. I got you into it, remember?
You also got me out of it, Kay. Well, I can forget about Gigi, now that I know for sure what happened.
And all because of a jerk named Leland Mills. No, Mills was a desperate guy, Kay.
After he buried Gigi, he just about went nuts trying to find the money. When he finally realized
Dietrich was the only one who could lead him to it, he shot Stopkin and would have killed anybody else,
keeping from interfering with Dietrich until he uncovered the hiding place.
You know, in a way, Marlow, it was a horrible trick of fate. They both picked the same place
to bury things. Not really. Mills and Dietrich had the same jobs to do, under the same conditions.
They each had to bury something in a hurry and in the dark.
So, both of them picked a spot where the ground was soft and one that was clearly marked at the
same time, under the water tank. Yeah. And it...
Marlow, I'm kind of scared. I don't like this place. This spooky little town.
It's the end of nowhere. Yeah. I wouldn't be caught dead here myself. Let's go, baby.
I walked K to her car, started her safely on her way.
So long. Sake?
She waved once, then drove down the road and out of sight without looking back.
Soon even the sound of the motor was gone.
And a long night, and a strange reunion.
And now two lonely men, and a man who was about to die.
And a strange reunion. And now two lonely lights were the only sign of life in lonesome Arizona.
I stood on the empty highway for a few minutes and listened to the immense quiet of the desert.
Then I went back to my rented car and headed for Phoenix and a plane for home.
The Adventures of Philip Marlow, created by Raymond Chandler, stars Gerald Moore,
and is produced and directed by Norman MacDonald. Script is by Mel Dinelli,
Robert Mitchell, and Gene Levitt. Featured in the cast were Joan Banks, Edgar Berrier,
Virginia Gregg, Jeff Chandler, Bill Boucher, and Jack Crushen. The special music is by Richard O'Rant.
Be sure and be with us again next week when Philip Marlow says...
It was a weird racket that mushroomed in a world of gaudy canvas. And the man with purple hair,
the inquisitive midget, and the lady with strong hands each played a part.
But all that was only a sideshow when death got into the act.
Across the nation, communities and the parents of Boy Scouts are observing Boy Scout Week,
agreeing with the boys themselves that adventure, that's scouting. Now stay
tuned for Gangbusters, which follows immediately over most of these same CBS network stations.
This is Roy Rowan speaking for CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.