Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker's road and those who travel it wind up in the gut of the prison or the grave.
This time everything that happened from the orange haired man with a map past the oaf with a pitchfork to the body at the covered bridge was wrong. Dead wrong.
From the pen of Raymond Tramfer, 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, The Covered Bridge.
You know, every once in a while, into the life of one Philip Marlowe, a little peace and quiet must fall.
A day marked by neither murder nor mayhem. No phone calls. Just nothing.
I was just beginning to like it too when the door opened and a head full of slick orange hair walked in.
It was on a man wearing a new flannel suit, a hand-painted tie, and a reckless grin.
He shoved the telephone out of his waist, sat down on the corner of my desk, and sized me up with a pair of careful gray eyes.
Got a proposition for you laddy.
Tell me about it. Let you know if I'm interested.
You should be. There's good money in it.
It's not always the answer. Go ahead.
Got a good car?
Good enough. I don't keep it in the office.
You like Mexico?
Look, is this a social call or a quiz program?
This is business. I asked you a question.
Yeah, I like Mexico. I don't like you.
That's good. Because you're going to drive a couple of friends of me down there.
Name your price.
Not interested.
Thousand bucks?
Not interested.
That's too bad. Would have been nicer to work this out without a gun.
Listen, you're a two-bit jerk.
Talk easy laddy. This gun is bigger than both of them.
Now you're going to drive across the Mexican border tonight with three passengers.
And it won't be any difficult questions.
Because you are the well-known Senor Philip Marlowe, a respectable private detective.
Somewhere below the border, your fellow travelers will catch a boat.
But this you don't have to worry about.
Now look, just a minute.
Look laddy, I came to you for several reasons.
One of which is that you're smart enough to know when to quit fighting the problem.
You got to make a stop first. So, let's go.
And leave your artillery in the drawer. Come on.
Yeah, sure.
Since I'm now an old pal of yours, what do I call you?
You pick it.
Believe me, you won't like it.
How about George? You like George?
Not particularly.
Good. Just call me George. Let's go Marlowe.
We nodded at the elevator girl, waved goodbye to the kid in the parking lot, and headed south on Highway 101.
All with the front of that Mauser nudging my kidney.
It was screwy, but I was on my way to Mexico.
Don't get ambitious Marlowe. Not too fast, not too slow.
Just keep it rolling nice and steady.
I did what I was told and watched for a break.
For every foot of a hundred miles down the coast.
At Oceanside we cut inland past Escondido and up into the citrus country.
Once he dug a little map from his pocket and studied it while we headed into the hills where farms were farther apart.
George was busy looking for a turn off when my chance came and it came fast.
My foot slammed down hard on the bank and knocked your head against the windshield.
My gun slipped out of his hand.
I dropped two wheels on the bitch but I got my gun.
He took one look then jumped out and ran in a low crouch from the back of the car.
Before I could follow him I heard the truck coming.
It was a big two section job rolling fast.
It topped the rise just as George pivoted toward the road.
The truck driver must have seen him just as he hit the road.
The air brake flocked on all 26 wheels at the same time.
I ran to where George lay like a discarded doll at the side of the road.
The truck driver was out of his care before it stopped rolling.
I didn't see him. I didn't see him. I didn't see him.
Take it easy.
Honest, I didn't see him. Is he all right? He ain't dead, is he?
No, no, he isn't. He won't be walking much anymore.
It wasn't my fault, Mr. Honest.
I know it wasn't. Get hold of yourself.
Gosh, what should we do?
I want you to drive to the nearest phone and get the police and then come back.
Here's my card. Give it to the trooper. Tell him they can reach me at my office.
What are you going to do?
I'm going to figure out how to read this map of his. I'm going to pay a call on a couple of people who are expecting this guy.
Maybe it's just a stubborn streak, but when I'm being used as a patsy, I like to meet the people involved.
As I drove, I studied the map and two miles down the highway I found the first landmark, a dead tree.
There I left the highway and followed a rocky trail seven corkscrew miles up a canyon to the next landmark, a bridge.
For one, it looked like it had been lifted out of some rustic Connecticut woods and dropped across the California gorge purely by mistake,
because it was covered complete to roof and walls and made entirely of lumber.
And on the hill beyond was a lonely house where the trail marked on the map ended.
I drove slowly through the sagging wood tunnel and at the other end deliberately killed my motor.
And I got out, raised the hood, went to work on the distributor.
I don't know where he came from, but when I glanced up he was standing there watching me,
a bull in overalls with a pitchfork clenched in a pair of hands as thick as four dollar stakes.
We didn't like each other's looks.
You picked a bad place for trouble, Mr.
That's so. Why?
Nobody almost never comes up this road, especially strangers. How come you took it?
Really want to know or you're just killing time?
I wouldn't be too smart if I was you, mister.
You live in that house up there?
No, not anymore. I got canned for drinking. Why are you so interested in that place?
They only farm around here. Maybe they got a mechanic.
Yeah, maybe. Where'd you say you were from?
L.A.
Los Angeles, huh? You're real sure you don't know anybody up there on the hill?
Like who, for instance?
A certain party who took a trip to L.A. not so long ago.
And another thing, city boy, don't get out of line or I'll fix you good. Understand?
Oh, yeah. Now, I mean, how do you do?
You want something?
Yes, my car stalled at the bottom of the hill.
Nolly, Nolly, who is it? Who's there?
A man, Uncle Walter. He says his car broke down.
What's that, church? Your car broke down, you say?
Yeah, I don't know what went wrong, mister.
My name is Bruehl, Walter Bruehl.
Oh, I'm glad to know you. I'm Philip Marlow.
What are you doing on this road, Mr. Marlow?
I thought it was a shortcut.
Did you? As you were wrong, it's a dead end.
Oh.
Come inside.
Thanks. Look, Mr. Bruehl, I'd like to have somebody who knows motors come down and look at my car.
All right, when Ed comes in, I guess he could go down with you.
That's my new hired hand, Ed Fry.
I don't know, Uncle Walter. It's getting pretty dark.
Yeah, I was thinking the same thing myself.
As a matter of fact, if you're going to accommodate me, Mr. Bruehl, I'd just as soon rest up a while and shove off in the morning.
I want to pay you for everything, of course.
Stay overnight?
Oh, I, uh, I'm afraid that's impossible. We...
Impossible? Why?
What's the matter, Richard Dolly?
If necessary, I'm sure we can arrange to take care of Mr. Marlow some way.
Well, okay.
That's better. Now, if you want me, Dolly, I'll be out in the barn.
Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Marlow.
Your uncle, huh? He owns this place?
That's right. My mother was his favorite sister.
Oh.
You want a cup of coffee?
Oh, I'd love it.
Haven't had any farm kitchen coffee in ages.
You, uh, you don't seem to have any visitors up this way, Dolly, huh?
No, not many.
Nice farm, though.
Stinks.
Is that why you run off to L.A. now, then?
How did you know about that?
I guess.
I ran into a friend of yours at the bottom of the hill.
A pair of overgrown shoulders with a pitchfork.
Said he used to work here.
Him. He did up until a month ago.
That's no big one. Big dumb goof.
Here's your coffee.
Oh, thanks.
By the way, Mr. Marlow, where are you heading?
Oh, Mexico, maybe.
Mexico?
Yeah.
You kind of came a long ways out of your way, didn't you?
Did I?
Dolly?
Dolly!
We're in here, Eddie. What's the matter?
A car at the bottom of the hill. Who's is it?
Car belongs to me. It stalled.
Huh? Who are you?
This is Mr. Marlow, Eddie.
He's, uh, on his way to Mexico.
Wow. You don't say.
And since his car broke down so late, he may stay all night.
Uncle Walter said it'd be all right.
Is that a fact?
I'll, uh, go get some blankets, Eddie,
so you can take them up to the spare room for Mr. Marlow.
Okay, Dolly.
Mr. Marlow, huh?
Where are you from, Mr. Marlow?
L.A.
You?
Points east.
You know, this road don't go to Mexico, Marlow.
In fact, it stops about a mile up the draw here.
And it's funny that you wound up on it, isn't it?
I don't see you breaking up over it, Eddie.
Don't let my poker face throw you, pal.
Traveling alone, are you?
I am now.
Meaning what?
That there's nobody with me. That's simple, isn't it?
Not in my book, pal.
I might even want you to draw me a picture of that one.
Here's the blanket, Eddie. See?
Oh, okay, okay. It's fine.
I'm on upstairs, Marlow. I'll show you the room.
You want me to go with you and make the bed?
No, you stay here and put up some more coffee, Dolly.
You may want lots of it tonight.
Let's go, Marlow.
Right behind you, Eddie.
How's the weather been in L.A.?
Some might call it hot.
Uh-huh.
Get the door, will you?
Sure.
Okay, how come it's you, pal?
I got good credentials, a car, and a tight yap.
You better be right on all three.
How'd you find me?
Little map, Eddie.
From Escondido to the dead tree to the covered bridge,
and then up here it's a cinch.
Why'd you show alone? Where's Red?
He's got to meet us at the border.
That's a bum fit, pal. It's not in the book. Why?
You had some kind of a last-minute jam with a boat.
Oh, that jerk.
He's had a month to line this up while I've been holed up out here
in the sticks, making like a farmhand.
Well, better work, that's all.
If we're picked up this time, it's curtains.
Oh, incidentally, you got a gun, haven't you?
Yeah, sure.
Let's see it.
Uh-uh. No dice, Eddie.
Red didn't tell me everything, just enough.
So?
So you'll get your money's worth.
I'll do what I'm supposed to do and no questions asked
and a little automatic and I stick together regardless.
Real close together.
Okay, Marlow. Suit yourself.
I will.
And something else, the rest of the company is going along.
Is that all set?
Well, we'll see about that when the time comes.
You're not leaving any loose ends around, are you?
It's not your worry, pal.
We'll get out of here around 11.
Oh, and that routine about your car being stalled,
it is a gag, I hope.
Oh, sure, it won't start.
If anybody tries, but in ten seconds with a screwdriver,
I can fix it.
You're okay, Marlow. Just keep playing your game.
Yeah, I will.
Maybe then I'll find out what the score is after all.
You might at that.
Come on, let's eat.
Dinner at the Brule Farm was as loaded with gay chatter
as a bad case of lockjaw.
And when it was over, the participants scattered
like everybody else was contagious.
I wound up alone in the dark spare room on the second floor,
which had one advantage, windows that viewed both
the front and the rear.
The moon was bright, so I didn't bother with the lamp.
I listened to Dolly rattle dishes in the kitchen until
lights out, and then I watched old man Brule pace his front yard.
Once Ed Fry went out and talked to him briefly,
and then headed for the front door again.
A long hour after that, the big house was silent until
from somewhere out in the back, there was a soft metallic tapping.
Eventually I spotted a heavy figure outside
tossing pebbles against a window pane downstairs.
And he edged back through the shadows to the barn.
Moment later I saw the girl slip out a rear door
and run across the backyard of the joint.
I went down the back stairs and out along the house to a hedge,
and I followed that until I was close enough to hear...
It's true, I tell you. He's an escaped convict, a killer.
He's been hiding out here on your place.
I can't believe it, no, I just can't, are you sure?
Of course I am. I read it by accident just tonight
in an old newspaper from Denver.
The whole story with pictures. There's no doubt about it.
Ed Fry is really Eddie Fillmore. He's a murderer.
Plenty of times over.
What... what'll we do? Should we call the police?
Ah, no. Not on your life.
Listen, you want to get off this farm, don't you?
More than anything in the world.
Okay, then we'll do it together, Dolly.
I didn't tell another soul about this. You know why?
Because they put out a reward, a big one for him.
$2,500, and we're gonna get it.
Just us, you and me.
How, Noah? How can we talk to him?
What's that? Did you hear that, Noah?
That's nothing, nothing. It's one of the cats, maybe.
Look, you've been taking walks with him lately, Dolly.
Yes, I have, Noah, but...
Well, never mind that now.
Just get him to take another one right away.
Get him to walk you down to Pritchett's house.
I'll be waiting there, and as soon as you get inside, I'll jump him.
You'll never know what hit him.
Will you do it?
Pritchett's house?
Yeah.
Well, I'll try. You give me some time to persuade him.
Oh, sure. Oh, I knew you'd see things my way, honey.
No.
Boy, with that reward money, there'll be no stopping us.
You better go in now before they miss you.
Okay. I'll get him there just as soon as I can.
Hey, Bickman.
What?
Who's there?
Marlow.
Listen, I gotta talk to you.
You were here listening all the time, weren't you?
Yeah, and believe me, you're making a mistake.
You're playing with dynamite, Bickman.
You two are nuts to tackle that guy alone. He's too tough for you.
So you want to help so you can cut yourself in on the reward, that's all.
Well, it ain't gonna work.
Don't be a sappy. He's covered himself.
There's somebody else in with him. Somebody around here, he's got an ally.
You two try to grab him, and you're gonna be in trouble.
You're lying. He's been hiding out all alone,
and we're gonna get him dollying me by ourselves.
And if you try to horn in Mr. So, help me, I'll beat your brain.
Cut it out. Reward or no reward, you gotta listen to me.
Thank God you're not gonna go.
Maybe that'll teach you not to stick your nose in, city boy.
In just a moment, the second actor, Philip Marlowe, but first,
Fred Allen's first appearance on the CBS Jack Benny show.
L. Jolson sings, but the face is Charlie McCarthy's.
Andy of Amos and Andy goes on trial for deserting his bride by mistake.
Those are three headlines that guarantee you a world of fun on CBS Tomorrow Night.
Yes, this third Sunday of the new year will be an all-time high in radio entertainment.
Hear them all on CBS Tomorrow Night.
Now with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlowe
and tonight's story, The Covered Bridge.
I didn't pass out. My jaw hurt and my legs moved like they were rubber.
Now I had to find the roving wall of rule because he should know where
Richard's house was where the ambitious team of Dolly and Noah might be
fighting off a lot more than they could chew healthy 4-H teeth notwithstanding.
Mr. Bruhl. Mr. Bruhl.
Yeah? Hello? Who is it?
Marlowe. Come here a minute, will you? It's important.
Yeah, it's important.
All right, answer it, Mr. Marlowe.
Your face. What's this?
It's your friend Noah. We had a few words.
Noah Bickman? He was no friend of mine.
Yeah, he's no friend of mine either.
Look, Bruhl, I'm going to have to trust you. I've got no choice.
Bickman found out Ed Fry is really an undesirable named Eddie Fillmore
who was wanted for the police by murder. Murder?
And he wants to trap him for a $2,500 reward that's been posted
and didn't want me in the way. No.
Now look, I'm not a passing tourist with motor trouble, but a private detective.
Tell me, who is Pritchard and where does he live?
Pritchard? Where does he live? Mr. Marlowe, somebody has been making a joke on you.
Elihu Pritchard died 20 years ago.
He lived right in this house where I do today.
This is Pritchard's house here?
Oh, Pritchard's house? No, no, no. That's down the road near your car.
The covered bridge. That is Pritchard's house.
The bridge?
You see, Elihu Pritchard was from New England and he had a covered bridge on his farm there.
So he wanted one here. He built it himself day by day aboard here and there.
Since he spent so much time out of people, call the bridge's house. Is that it?
Yeah, exactly. But then why is it important?
Because of a meeting, Mr. Bruhl, a get-together that I don't think is going to be on the quiet side.
Let me borrow your flashlight, will you? Sure.
Get back inside and call the police.
But what are you going to do?
Reinforce the reward, happy sweethearts, and keep an eye out for someone I haven't met yet.
A third party Eddie Fillmore plans to tour Mexico with.
It was a quarter of a mile romp, country style, back down to the covered bridge.
When I was there, the Mauser I recovered from George in one hand flashed light in the other.
I found only the moon-washed gray covered bridge itself,
trying to stand erect like an old soldier who has more pride than posture.
But then as I stepped in the chalk road onto the sheltered oil soap planking, I found something else.
Inside and face down was Noah Bickman,
and lying nearby, the red-stained, icy fingers of the pitchfork that had killed him.
I started to move closer,
but then footsteps from the road behind suggested that I do different,
so I moved quickly back to the bridge entrance,
flattening myself into a narrow shadow and waited.
Noah?
Noah, is that you?
It's Marlow, Dolly.
Mr. Marlow, what are you doing here?
Why are you down at the bridge at this hour? Where's Noah?
He's dead, Dolly.
He's dead?
He's in there, but don't go inside.
Look, I tried to stop him, believe me.
Stop him? Stop him on what?
Don't bother, baby. I know about Fry being Phil Moore, the reward, all of it.
What? How?
Well, first of all, I'm a private detective from L.A.
I was dragged into this by an ex-buddy of Phil Moore's.
Second, I was in the barn when you and Noah made your plans.
When you left, I tried to talk Noah into accepting my help.
Why?
Because I know what Phil Moore's kind is like.
I mix with him every day.
How they work.
Look, did you tell Phil Moore to meet you here, yes or no?
No. No, I couldn't find him.
I've been looking since I left the barn every place.
That's why you came down here just now?
Yes. I wanted to tell Noah that our plan had to be postponed.
But what difference does all this make?
I don't know. Maybe a little, maybe a lot.
If Phil Moore had known about this, this rendezvous you two planned,
it would be 20 to 1 that he got here ahead of schedule and took care of Noah.
But since he didn't...
Since he didn't, I'm betting on a third party.
Someone we haven't met yet.
A third party?
Yeah, now listen to me and do just as I say.
Turn around and walk straight back up to the house
and when you get there, get inside and stay put.
But Marla, what if...
Go on, fast!
All right. But be careful, Marla.
Whoever killed Noah won't hesitate to kill you, too.
When she started back up the road, I turned on the bridge again.
My flashlight following the dusty white footprints
on the freshly oiled planking leading to the dead man.
I stood over in the circle of light sweeping the area around him.
There was just one thing I had to know.
Marlo!
It's me, Walter Brewer.
What are you doing down here?
Well, I thought you might need help, so after I called the police,
I got my rifle and came down here and...
Yeah, he's dead.
The prongs on that fork went right through him.
How terrible.
Yeah.
Look, Bruhl, was this planking freshly oiled today?
Yeah, right.
I just wanted to make sure those chalk footprints were made today.
But what footprints?
Bruhl, you stay here and see that no one entered the bridge.
But where are you going?
Up to your house in a hurry,
because I think I know who the killer and the third party is.
City bread legs and smog-fed lungs,
I made it up to the house in record time.
As I reached for the front door,
I knew that time hadn't been quite good enough.
A shot had come from somewhere in the house,
and by the time I reached the living room,
I knew I was too late to do any good.
In a chair at the far side of the room,
Dolly was slouched down, a surprised expression on her face.
While her hands tried to hold back a small stain of blood
oozing through her blouse,
little frightened words whispered out of her mouth.
You shouldn't have funded any of this.
Stand where you are, Marlow.
You should have come into it with a two-timing louse.
Eddie, I'm trying to tell you.
You don't understand my...
I understand plenty of no good little...
Eddie.
I was in the barn, heard the whole thing.
You and that Bickman planning on killing me.
Bickman planning to switch with me out.
No, you're wrong, Eddie.
No.
Tell him to stop.
Tell him.
Dolly didn't try to double-cross you, Eddie.
She only pretended to so she could set Noah Bickman up and kill him.
That's what she did.
No, you're a liar.
That's true.
That's what I tried to do, Eddie.
I don't believe it.
I...
I love you.
Eddie.
Dolly.
Is that true, Marlow?
She didn't cross me.
She was trying to help me.
That's right, Fillmore.
Bickman found out who you were
and one of the 2,500 bucks you were worth dead or alive.
Dolly had to play him along for your sake.
I should have listened to her.
I should have listened.
How'd you know all this, Marlow?
I found Dolly's footprints inside the covered bridge.
Prove she'd been there before I found Bickman's body.
Yeah.
And you know who I was, so you put it all together.
Well, you're holding the gun, kid.
What's the next move?
Doesn't matter much anymore.
I could still lamb out of here for Mexico.
Somehow I don't wanna.
Not without Dolly.
Phone the police, Marlow.
I'm not going anywhere.
It was several hours before the county police
and Eddie Fillmore had gone.
All of Ruehl and I sat at the long wooden table
watching the light from the fire dance
across the hanging skillets and pans by the grate.
And nobody said anything for a long time.
I...I suppose hot apple pie at four in the morning
seems odd to a man from the city.
Not at all.
Four in the morning is sometimes
the middle of the day in the city.
Yeah.
More coffee, Mr. Marlow?
Yeah, yeah, please.
Thanks.
You know, Dolly wasn't really a bad girl.
It was just that sometimes she didn't think
she was a good girl.
A woman who loves like that doesn't think, Mr. Bruehl.
She just feels.
Maybe in some way it is my fault the whole thing.
No, no.
It's nobody's fault, Mr. Bruehl.
She was trying to do the right thing
for the guy she loved.
Yeah.
Well, if your bed is still ready,
if you care to stay.
Oh, thanks. Sure, I'd like to.
If you can find your own way up,
I think I'll sit here just a minute longer.
Sure.
Good night.
Good night, Mr. Marlow.
As I sat looking out over the starlit countryside,
I thought of all the great love stories
written about the good people who love, live, and suffer.
And then the pathetic face of Dolly
and the pain-wracked face of Eddie said,
what about us?
And I had no answer.
Yeah, chalk up another one, Marlow.
Another one of those things for which there is no answer.
The Adventures of Philip Marlow,
bringing you Raymond Chandler's most famous character,
star Gerald Moore,
are produced and directed by Norman MacDonald
and are written for radio by Robert Mitchell and Gene Leavitt.
Featured in the cast were Vivi Janis, Ben Wright, Jack Moyles,
Wilms Herbert, Jack Crouchon, and Barney Phillips.
The special music is composed and conducted by Richard Aront.
Be sure and be with us again next week when Philip Marlow says...
This time a twisted mind, a hole cut in a wire fence,
and a corpse in a storeroom, all added up to freedom,
but only for the one who had it coming.
The event you've been waiting for,
Fred Allen's first visit to the CBS Jack Benny show
will take place tomorrow night.
Yes, the most famous guest appearance in radio,
the Fred Allen Jack Benny Act,
will be heard in all of the CBS stations tomorrow night.
This is Roy Rowan speaking.
Now stay tuned for Gangbusters,
which follows over most of the same CBS stations.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.