When it started the tide was high on the San Pedro waterfront and a hot tempered kid had murder on his mind.
But there was a knife at my throat of beating under the piers and a corpse on the beach before the tide went out again and the kid was finally stopped.
From the pen of Raymond Chandler, outstanding author of crime fiction, comes his most famous character in...
The Adventures of Philip Marlowe.
Now with Gerald Moore, starred as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's exciting story, Night Tide.
It all happened in San Pedro, the harbor of Los Angeles.
The lights on the ships were fuzzy through the wet mist that creeps up out of the ocean every night.
And I drove slowly looking for the establishment of Mike Basso, my new client.
One side of the crooked street was nothing but the smell and the sound of oily salt water sloshing through the pilings beneath the piers.
And the other side was a tangle of warped, dingy buildings equipped to satisfy the thirsts of reckless men who never get beyond the waterfront of any port.
The foghorn out on the breakwater began to bellow as I parked near a U-shaped pier labeled Basso Docks Private.
And walked past a line of moored fishing boats to a squat two-story office.
The bottom floor was dark, but the second floor had lights on. So I started up the steep wooden stairs and was halfway to the top when I caught the voices.
I don't want dumb excuses, John.
One I'd already heard over the phone when I was hired. It was my client, Mike Basso.
You make them jump or I'll get somebody who can. These boats got to be handled faster. Why even the crook Johnny Dyke was better on this job than you are.
Johnny Dyke? Why, I ought to...
Uh, no.
Get out of my way.
The big guy with a Latin jaw shoved past me and stomped down the stairs. So I went on up into the office.
Mike Basso looked like a block of concrete, his 220-thick pounds hunched over a scarred, roll-top desk.
As I walked in, he swung a heavy bulldog head around and glared at me.
You never heard a knocking first, I guess. You Marlow?
That's right. The moose that just left here got me all out of the mood for courtesy.
That's Shaki, my crew pusher. Good man with slow.
Come here. Sit down. We got other business.
Have a drink, Cognacchi.
Thanks.
Okay? Now, there's a hothead punk by the name of Johnny Dyke. I sent him to prison three years ago for stealing money from me.
I made it as tough as I could for him.
Any special reason why?
Sure, because I trust a fellow who works for me.
Johnny Dyke used to have Shaki's job, but he took advantage.
When the police grabbed him and found my money in his own house, he squealed like a pig and said he was framed, like all cheap punks do.
How does this get around to you wanting a private investigator?
Because Johnny Dyke is out of prison. Got out yesterday on parole, and he's back in town now.
Hey, you. What you looking at?
Your clock. How come it says 1130 at 20 to 8?
It's electric. It was turned off last night, and I didn't start it yet.
Now look, I was here with Ed Giles when he heard some noise on my private launch out there. He went down to see about and...
Who's Ed Giles?
My general manager. While he was gone, the lights went out in here. That's when I got clogged on the head.
When I went down, I got kicked around. Plenty. I'd be killed right now, but Shaki happened to come along, and the guy was scared off of me.
Did you happen to see who it was?
No. Ed Giles did. He got a good look. He admitted it. Only he claims he don't know who it was. But he lies. On the count of he's an old friend of Johnny Dyke's.
Maybe Giles isn't lying. What makes you so certain it was Johnny who slugged you?
I found this. Just a book of matches, huh? But see how the edges are crimped. Johnny Dyke always did that. He's nervous, all the time fidgeting.
Sure. He might as well have left his calling card for me. Ah, it was Johnny all right.
Okay, Basso, but before you get too far in, I'll tell you something. I don't go in for bodyguarding.
Who wants a bodyguard? Here's what you do, Marlo. Find that punk, see what he's got in mind. He beat me up once. Maybe that's all he wants.
Or maybe he's coming back to put a knife in me. Just find out and let me know. That's all.
I looked out at the fishing boats along the pier, gently nudging each other, while Mike Basso told me that Johnny had a blonde wife named Christine,
who ran the Albatross Cafe, and that Ed Giles lived alone in a house at 43 Terminal Road. It was enough for a starter.
So I said I'd keep in touch and left. As I walked off the pier, the blinking neon light from the sign across the street made a swirling green veil out of the mist between me and my car.
So I almost got up to it before I saw her, leaning lazily against the door on the driver's side.
A girl in a tight black silk dress, cheap fur jacket, and double-acol strap spikes. She smiled with one corner of her red mouth as I walked up to her and stopped.
Hello, sugar. Hi, sweetheart. The name's Ginger. That's too bad. Ginger always gives me hype. Don't be like that.
What did Mike Basso have to say? We were talking business, baby. That's all.
Say, tell me, which way to Terminal Road? It intersects about ten blocks down. What's the number? 43.
Oh, you'll want to turn right then. Ed's place is a cozy, secluded one by the water.
Oh, thanks. You know Mr. Giles, huh? Yeah, he's around Mike all the time. He's nothing.
Well, I'll see you around. So long, handsome.
Yeah? You want something? You Giles, Mike Basso's man? Yeah. So what? I'm Marlowe, private detective. I'm looking for Johnny Teck.
Why'd you come here? Because you're a friend of his, the only one. I haven't seen or heard from him, so I'm afraid I can't help you.
Now, wait a minute. Let's go inside. I'd like to talk about the kid. He's put himself in a pretty hopeless situation coming back here to Pedro. What do you think?
Because he's got enemies like Mike Basso and Sharkey? Yeah. What's he going to do? Fight it out or be smart and leave Tom?
Listen, private investigator, I told you once. I don't know because I haven't seen him. You're a liar. You saw him last night.
You're working for Mike, aren't you? Get out, Peter. Don't shout. I'll shove harder than that, brother.
Okay, Giles, we'll try it the hard way. Now, where's Johnny? I don't know. Come on, get up, get up. Let's play again. You saw him last night, didn't you? Didn't you?
Oh, all right, all right, all right. I saw him about 11.30. I was standing on the deck of Mike's launch when I heard a commotion and looked up.
I saw Johnny jump down the stairs from Mike's office and run off the pier. I haven't seen him since, but that's the truth.
Okay. Sorry I had to make a squeal on a friend. Now, where's the Albatross Cafe?
The Albatross? Yeah. On the corner of Front and Castle Avenue. But look, can't you leave Chris out of this? She's a good kid. She's been through a lot already.
Think Johnny's going to leave her out of it? Besides, it's for her own good that I want to see her.
Yeah, I suppose you're right. But I'll tell you something for your own good too, model. If you find Johnny Dyke, don't push him too hard.
It was tough before he left. Now he'll have a rawhide for brains to pent on it.
At the corner of Front and Castle, I spotted the Albatross Cafe. Half on land, half teetering on a set of spindly stilts ringing the high water mark with jagged lumps of barnacles.
I parked down the street and started back when the door swung open and the Latin george moose sharkie lumbered out.
I watched them cross the street without seeing me and disappear between two buildings.
I waited a couple of minutes and then I went in. Took a booth near the front. The place was neat and clean, even the tablecloths.
A soft brown-eyed blonde in a crisp peasant dress picked up a menu and came over.
Good evening, sir. Chris? Yeah. Yeah. Well, Chris, it's probably not on the menu around here, but how about a double order of plain facts, straight?
What are you talking about? Johnny. You remember Johnny Dyke, your husband?
Who are you, mister? Private detective named Marlow. All I want to do is talk to him. Chris, just talk. Is he here?
No, I haven't seen him. He hasn't even called me.
How do you feel about this bird known as Sharkie?
He's a lout. Oh?
He always crowded Johnny and now he's got his job.
I hear he knows something. Have you seen him lately? No, I haven't.
That's funny. He just left here. Okay, so I'm a liar.
Maybe you're just blind. I've heard that love does that, baby.
Maybe. Any skin off your nose?
No. Cigarette? Then how about a match for me, huh?
I suppose so. Let's see. Yeah. Here.
Thanks.
Hey, these are cute. That crimp border on the edge, especially.
The one put there by somebody's jittery thumbnail, huh? Maybe your eyes are bad.
Maybe not, Chris. But you better do something about your nerves. They're shot.
Good night, baby.
I didn't look back, but I knew she was watching me all the way out the door and down the street, so I made it real good.
As far as the next block and around the corner.
Then I doubled back fast and stayed in the shadows until I got within sight of the Arbitros Cafe again.
And in time to see a man, he's out of side door and slip out of sight among the pilings under the building.
I moved in closer and found a rickety trail of greasy planks that led out through the forest of slimy pilings under the piers.
I had felt better on a tight rope, but it was home ground at Johnny Dyke.
I felt my way slowly along those slippery planks.
Went from behind a piling, an arm like steel springs snapped under my chin while a hand pressed the point of a long, thin knife with a curved, white handle up against my throat.
You said you wanted to talk to me, Marlo, so talk. But fast, because I don't have much time.
Ease up on my throat, will ya? Okay?
Now, you're a sucker. Why don't you try to give up trying to even the score?
Get out of town and forget it.
Sure. Sure to you, that's easy. You didn't spend three long years in the cooler for something you didn't do.
I'm gonna get even, all right. I don't know how for sure yet, but I will.
Wind up right back in the coop, sucker. If it keeps this time, is it gonna be worth it?
Could be. I was a good boy up there. Every time I wanted to slug a guard, I said, Mike Basso to myself instead.
Now I got it all bottled up inside me. I'm not gonna carry all that hate around forever. I'm gonna get rid of it, and there's only one way to do it.
Ed Giles was right. You've got rawhide for brains. You better put the knife away, Johnny. I think we got visitors.
Sure we have, Marlo. Rats, big ones. The piers are full of them.
You should feel right at home, punk.
Just don't sleep too long, pal. Oh!
Between the throbbing in my head and the numbness across my shoulders where my back had struck the planks,
it took me five minutes to get to my feet and another five to climb up the street level.
By then the pier was deserted, so I headed for the Basso docks on the double with the unpleasant answer to my client's question,
plus the added attraction that I'd even seen the knife die contented to use.
I still had a block to go when I saw a hook that had to be shocky straight off the pier and turn in my direction.
When I got close enough, I hailed him. Yeah, I'm shocky. What do you want, bud?
Is Mike still in the office? For once and only. Come on, this is no time to stall heavy on Marlo.
I'm working for him. I got a message he won't keep. Is he there or no? No. The office is locked up. He's gone.
I'm looking for him myself. Why? What do you want him for?
Because I'm pretty sure that Johnny Dyke is holed up in the back room of the Albatross Cafe.
Yeah, I only wish you were right, Shocky, but you're about a half hour too late.
Hey, what was that? Came from up the street there. Yeah, let's go, Shocky. Maybe we're both too late. Let's find out.
Yeah. Hey. What? The name by the guardrail. It's Ginger, a pal of Mike Basso's.
Yeah, you're right. Ginger! Ginger, what's the matter? What happened?
Go down there. Take a look, will you? I'm scared. Down where, Ginger?
In the water. I think maybe I'm going to be sick.
Marlow! Hey, Marlow, come here. Look.
Holy smoke.
That's Mike down there with a knife in his back.
Yeah. A long thin knife with a curved white handle.
It belongs to a guy named Johnny Dyke.
In just a moment, the second act to Philip Marlow. But first, he may be a close neighbor of yours.
At least he lives quite near you. You go to the polls, you elect him, you bid him farewell, trusting him to represent you in Washington.
From then on, what happens to your congressman and the nation's capital?
What pressures are brought to bear on him?
In how many hundreds of fields must he rapidly become a good expert?
Why does he vote as he does?
Tomorrow night on CBS, you'll hear Ralph Bellamy, a star of radio, stage, and screen, playing a typical freshman congressman in the 81st Congress.
His story will be a drama taken from interviews and talks with many regular congressmen, with Washington experts, with politicians, with, yes, with voters like yourselves.
This CBS documentary unit drama, The People's Choice, starring Ralph Bellamy, will come to you over most of these same CBS stations.
Now with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlow and tonight's story, Night Tide.
Lying with his face muzzled into the sand and the rest of them half submerged in the shallow lapping water, Mike Basso was violent death at its ugliest.
Ginger turned and walked slowly away from us, trembling like a wino caught in the morning sun.
I told Sharkey to go get the police, and I headed for the albatross where I figured I might get a lead on Mike Basso's murderer.
When I got there, I skipped the formality of the front door and quietly moved around to the back, where I ended without knocking and made my way along a narrow, dusky corridor as far as a half-open door labeled private,
where I met Christine Dyke talking on the telephone.
When she looked up and gasped beside of me and then slammed the phone down abruptly, I was willing to bet that the party on the other end had been husband Johnny, nobody else.
What do you want Marlow?
Most of all, one Johnny Dyke and handcuffs.
Don't bother with the my man pitch honey because at the moment the lyrics will make me sick.
I just left the corpse that used to be Mike Basso.
Basso? Death Marlow?
Yeah, all because of Johnny's knife that's sticking in his back, Chris.
No, no Marlow, Johnny wouldn't do a thing like that, he couldn't.
You're wrong Chris, he did, now where is he?
I don't know.
You're lying baby, you were just talking to him on the phone, you gotta know.
No, no I don't, he didn't say where he was or...
Oh what?
Or anything about Basso being dead so...
Don't move Marlow.
Well, husband with knife, wife with gun, charming couple.
Never mind that, I'm not going to see Johnny in trouble again for something he didn't do.
So get in that closet Marlow or you'll be out of the way, now.
Alright, in it is, but first baby a word of advice, he isn't worth it believe me.
I don't, so get in and keep your mouth shut.
The closet in Chris's office which doubled as a store room for the restaurant had no window and a three inch thick oak for a door.
So I was twenty minutes as a one man mob scene bouncing the inventory around before I was heard.
And a little man with a big meat cleaver belonged in the kitchen to open up and demanded to know what I was doing in there.
I heaved a number ten tomato juice can at him for an answer, started running and didn't stop until I was outside, in my car and pointed for Ed Geil's cottage.
The only other place I knew where Johnny Dyke might go for help.
When I came to a stop at the house and found Giles himself standing on the outside steps looking puzzled at a pair of taillights that were blinking out of sight, I knew I was too late.
Yeah Marlow, it was Christine.
And all upset about getting her hands on five hundred dollars, said I had to lend it to her for Johnny's sake.
She say why?
No, only that he needed help.
Murderers usually do.
Your boy Dyke just killed Basso Giles.
A knife in his back.
Johnny?
Johnny killed Mike?
About an hour ago over on the beach.
Tell me, did you give her the money?
No.
She ran out of the house before I even got to my safe.
About saying anything?
About saying a word, Marlow.
I wouldn't even know she was gone yet if I hadn't heard.
Heard what, Gile?
A desk drawer in a living room.
Come on, Marlow, quickly.
I heard the drawer open when I was inside near my safe.
I wondered what she was looking for when I called for it.
You got no answer.
You ran outside after her, is that it?
Yeah, and I...
Hey Marlow, they're gone.
The boat keys.
She must have taken them for Johnny.
Asking for the money was only a trick to get me out of the room.
Wait a minute, wait a minute.
What boat keys are you talking about, Gile?
The master said, Marlow, two keys on a large brass ring.
They fit the ignition lock on any boat at the Basso Docks.
She knew I had them.
Yeah, but she also knew that even as a friend of Johnny's,
you'd balk at handing him over if you knew he'd killed Basso, right?
Or are you still shielding old friends, Giles?
Which is it?
Don't be stupid, Marlow.
I'd draw the line someplace.
All right.
Now one more question.
Do you have a gun?
A gun?
Oh, yeah, I do.
Good.
And get it, because we're going to the Basso Docks, Giles.
Come on.
Both piled into my car and in something less than ten minutes
ripped through the wide empty streets to the Basso Docks,
which were two parallel piers set about 100 feet apart
and jutting out deep into the bay with more than a score of boats
moored to the inboard side of each.
But when we were out of the car and saw nothing of Johnny Dyke or the girl
and heard no sound other than the dull thump of wood on wood
and the rhythmic slap of water against the hulls,
I decided that we should split.
And I told Giles to search one pier carefully while I took off for the other.
But a minute later, just as I started out alone over the oil-soaked planking,
I remembered the panoramic view of the docks I'd gotten earlier that evening
from Basso's office.
So I stopped and turned and ran for the flight of wooden steps that led to it.
I was halfway up and when I stopped again,
there was somebody ahead of me and with a key opening the office door.
I crouched low and moved closer one slow step at a time
toward what I knew might be Johnny Dyke.
But in the next second, a light clicked on in the office
and I forgot all about being subtle.
I leveled to 38 in my hand at the belt buckle of the sharply silhouetted figure.
It was Shocky.
I wouldn't move if I were you, buster.
Who is it?
Marlowe Shocky, who are you expecting?
Nobody, funny man, but I wouldn't want it to be Johnny Dyke at the moment.
He might want to settle those scores.
You know, Marlowe, the price for two murders is the same as the price for one.
So I've heard.
Now, let's be straight from the subject, Shocky, do you mind telling me what you're doing here?
And don't say I'm getting personal or I will.
Come on, talk up like a big boy.
All right, I'm here because I don't like cops.
Right now they're down on a beach swimming around Basso's body like kids around a maypole.
Also, I figured that before he blew,
Dyke might come up here after the money he knew Basso always kept on hand.
Satisfied?
In a word, no.
Why not?
Because I buy the switch first.
You're here, Shocky, to steal that dough and let people think that Dyke took it on his way out.
You can't prove that, Marlowe.
Only because I haven't got time.
You see, Shocky, it's an odds on bet that Dyke's out on one of those boats right now.
Just waiting for the...
For...
What is it, Marlowe?
Shocky, what time is it?
Huh?
The time, quick, what is it?
It's 11.35. Why? What's that got to do with Dyke shoving off?
From where I stand everything. Now, look, Shocky, get back down to those cops.
Get them up here and...
Marlowe, look.
Over there at the end of the starboard pier. It's Dyke.
Yeah, I'm trying to get away. Go on, Shocky, get to the cops fast.
I took the wooden steps back down at the docks three at a time and then raced across the starboard pier and out on the length of it until I was close enough to the end.
Where I could see Johnny Dyke climbing over one of the boats.
I was about to call to him to stop when I saw something else.
Standing almost opposite me in the shadow of some nearby rigging gun in hand and taking careful aim at Dyke was Ed Giles.
His finger slowly closing on the trigger. It was too late for words so I followed suit and fired before he did.
Got him high in the shoulder.
You fool, Marlowe. It's me, Giles. Dyke is out there.
I know, but the man who murdered Basso isn't. He's right here, Giles.
Huh? What do you mean, Marlowe?
I just found out you're a liar about seeing Dyke last night from the deck of Basso's launch. You couldn't have.
So what?
So you weren't shielding him, Giles, you were framing him.
Framing him so that you could get rid of Basso and pin his murder on Dyke.
Who you'd also get rid of while playing public citizen who's helping the private detective apprehend a killer.
What do you say, Giles? Is that it?
You're a smart guy. Figure it out for yourself.
Come clean, Giles, or I'll blow your head off.
All right. All right, Chris and I framed Dyke.
Chris.
Yeah?
What are you giving me?
Honest, Mama. We figured that we'd be in the clear with the money we took from Basso and with Johnny Welch tucked away in a big strong prison.
You dirty louse. Keep talking.
So we took advantage of Johnny's loud mouth and incidentally of you as well.
With Basso gone, I was going to step into his spot.
You're the one with a loud mouth, Giles.
Well, little red riding hood. And I went for your line.
Funny what a sucker a smart guy can be.
He wasn't the only sucker, baby.
Johnny!
Stay back, Johnny. Shoot her. They're moving in. She's got a gun.
Shoot him, Chris. Shoot. Come on.
Get away, Johnny. Get away from me.
You wouldn't shoot me, Chris. You wouldn't shoot your own husband.
The man you talked into running away until things quieted down.
The man you'd move heaven and earth to help so he could be shot in the back.
But you can't shoot me while I'm facing you, can you?
You cheap, filthy, double-clasping little scum.
Enough, Johnny. Cut it out.
Okay, Marlow. Okay.
It was a long hour of questions and answers before the police were finished.
They'd left with Chris and Giles in tow.
Johnny and I were standing alone out on the end of the pier.
I was looking down into the shallow black water below.
Listening to him try to convince himself that the whole night had been something more than a bad dream.
Chris against me. Giles against me from the very beginning, Marlow.
That's right.
Giles because he wanted to be in Basso's place.
My wife, Chris, because she wanted him.
That's right.
When Basso hired me to see what you had in mind after that beating he'd taken from what he thought was you,
but it was really Giles laying the groundwork, I fell into the role of star witness.
Somebody reliable enough for them both to play against.
Oh, yeah, I get it.
So you could testify that at first Giles had tried to shield me like a good friend.
Yeah.
And in the end had to kill me when I tried to escape.
Sure.
And just to make sure there were no slips, Chris kept feeding you instructions under the heading of Wifely Advice.
It practically ran on a timetable, Johnny.
Yeah.
But there was one slip.
I found out Giles was a liar and trying to frame, not shield you.
Huh? How was that, Marlow?
Look, he said he saw you beat up Basso in his office at 1130 last night when he was down on the deck of Basso's private launch, investigating a strange noise.
Yeah.
Well, Johnny, he couldn't have.
Because at 1130 last night as well as 1130 tonight, the tide was low.
Of course, the launch with it.
And from Basso's office you couldn't even see the launch.
Yeah.
Or the other way around.
From the launch you couldn't see the office, right?
That's it.
So in the end, Johnny, you did have a friend who stuck by you.
The Sea.
Yeah.
I guess that's as good a place as any for me.
Maybe the sooner the better.
Any place in particular?
No, just the Sea.
I'll drop you a card whenever I make port, Marlow.
After all, I really had two friends.
I won't forget that.
So long, fellow.
I watched him walk away until he'd gone the length of the empty pier and was swallowed up in the emptier night.
Then I turned back to the shallow black water beneath me, which, where the sea and the land were close to meeting, was coated thick with oil and dirty, almost stagnant.
And I thought a lot about Johnny.
People like Chris and guiles he'd mixed with and trusted.
I felt sorry for him.
But then, then I looked up a little, away from the water at the pier and out toward the open sea where it was deeper, cleaner.
The further I looked, the cleaner it seemed to be.
Then I remembered that was where Johnny Dyke was heading.
And I felt better.
Music
The Adventures of Philip Marlow, created by Raymond Chandler, star Gerald Moore, and are produced and directed by Norman MacDonald.
Script is by Mel Dinelli, Robert Mitchell, and Gene Levitt.
Featured in the cast were Michael Ann Barrett, Lou Krugman, Howard Culver, Frank Gerstel, Georgia Ellis, and Frank Richards.
The special music is by Richard O'Runt.
Be sure to be with us again next week when Philip Marlow says.
I was hired to find a thief, and I did, 8,000 miles away from home.
But first, I found a hammy Othello, a lush with a luger, and a fresh corpse in the closet.
All because the only woman in sight wouldn't play fair.
Music
A tortoise told a household pest, goodbye, goodbye.
An MD said, you'll pass the test, up in the sky.
This is the newest Phantom Lyric on CBS's Saturday Night Sing It Again program.
And later tonight, over most of these same CBS network stations, you'll hear the Phantom himself singing them.
Fifty-one thousand dollars ride on solving the Phantom's identity and answering one more question about him.
Twenty-six thousand in wonderful prizes for telling who he is.
Twenty-five thousand in cash for answering the extra question.
How's for listening in tonight? Phone calls go out to CBS listeners throughout the nation.
This is Roy Rowan speaking.
Now, stay tuned for Gangbusters, which follows immediately over most of these same CBS stations.
Music
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.