Get this and get it straight.
Crime is a sucker's road and those who travel it wind up in the gutter of the prison of
the grave.
This time a friend with millions, a myopic chemist and a long-haired piano player, but
thrown into panic because a brilliant young lady with a gun was taking a big step in the
wrong direction.
It happened like this.
From the pen of Raymond Trantler, 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
Big Step.
Yes sir, Mr. Marlowe, I always figure shoes are just like faces.
How's that champ?
They make it old and they make it wrinkled, but they're still okay as long as they got
a shine on them.
Yeah, it keeps that writing condition, huh champ?
Yes sir.
Hey, let me just spank up this one again, huh?
Sure.
Oh, come in.
Mr. Marlowe?
Yeah?
Oh, excuse me, I didn't know you was busy.
That's all right.
Okay champ, I guess it doesn't.
Here you are.
Oh, thank you, Mr. Marlowe.
I'll see you tomorrow.
Right.
Well, now that my shoes have a new lease on life, won't you sit down?
Miss...
Oh, I'm Betty Canter.
Mrs. Betty Canter.
Oh.
I'm a waitress at the Shelton Café.
I need your help, Mr. Marlowe.
There's something you could do for me.
You free to take a case?
Well, I'm free, depending on the case, what is it?
Well, today, this friend of mine, Shirley Vitello, comes into the restaurant while I
work.
Yeah.
She takes her usual table and while she's waiting for her order, she starts reading
the paper.
Well, it's all quiet so far, Betty.
Yeah, but just when I'm bringing in the tomato juice, it happens.
She sees something in the paper that scares her, scares her bad.
What was it, Betty?
Do you know?
I don't know.
She mutters something and then she runs out of the place.
Her face was gray like ashes.
Later I got to worrying.
I called her at home, then at the lab where she works, even her husband's studio.
No luck.
Now, wait a minute, Betty.
I don't quite get the connection.
You and Shirley Vitello, I mean.
Oh, I don't know.
We're social.
We're only chummy at the restaurant.
She's been eating there for years.
Well, it's a basis for friendship.
Well, about six months ago I was in bad trouble and Shirley came through with 200 bucks when
it seemed like more money than I'd ever seen.
It kept me and my husband together.
So you see, she means a lot to me.
Yeah, I see what you mean.
Well, look, Betty, what was this about a lab?
Well, Shirley's a technician.
She works as an assistant to a chemist named Softman.
Abraham Softman, out on Melrose someplace.
What about Shirley's husband?
Do you know him?
Gilbert?
Oh, yeah.
I've been with her a lot.
He's a piano composer and a real nice guy.
He lives for his work.
He's unknown now, but he's a real genius, Shirley says.
She'd do anything to keep him and his music going.
Yeah, well, tell me, this friend of yours saw something in a paper you said that scared
her.
Now, that's all you know, huh?
Yeah.
And I want you to find out why and help her.
Here's 50 bucks, Mr. Marlow.
That's what you charge, ain't it?
More or less, yeah.
By the way, Mrs. Canter, where's your ring?
Oh, I sometimes take it off when I'm working.
You do, huh?
Yeah.
Oh, perhaps when you hock it to raise 50 bucks.
Look, Betty, I'm a careless guy.
You, um, you better hold the money, huh?
Oh, but Mr. Marlow...
Where do the Vitellos live?
But Mr. Marlow...
We're in a hurry, Betty, remember?
Where's the address?
Well, it's 3140 Veteran Avenue.
And in case you wanted, Gilbert's studio is Benedict Canyon, 510.
Thanks, Mr. Marlow.
You call me at Empire One, 7087, huh?
Betty Canter was gone.
I got in my car and drove out to Veteran Avenue.
You know, she was a pathetic little creature.
And with a little effort, she could have that touch and glow look.
Oh, well.
3140 was one of those small but neat houses that grow like mushrooms overnight on a postwar
California landscape.
And it was locked, dark, and quiet.
I went around to the back and started on the windows.
The third one opened when I tried it.
I climbed in, turned on some lights, and made the grand tour that ended in the den.
The only indication that anyone had been there all day was a current issue of the L.A. Star
crumpled in the wastebasket.
I pulled it out and started through it.
On page five, I found the hole where a two-column story had been clipped out.
And then somebody was at the front door.
I started toward it to change my mind with the sound of the key in the lock, and instead
moved back into the den and watched.
A head that belonged on a gopher wearing a battered fedora, an inch thick glasses above
a fur-collared coat, peeked in.
Gave the place of myopic once over and headed straight for the den.
So I stepped out where he could see me.
I have never seen you before.
What are you doing here?
You tell me first, Pop.
I'm bigger than you are.
I'm Dr. Abraham Softman.
Softman?
Oh, the chemist Shirley Vitella works for.
Is that why you have a key?
Yes, she leaves unfinished.
She leaves work here for me to pick up.
It's a convenience for both of us.
Now you, you can also explain maybe?
Well, a friend thinks your assistant's in trouble.
I'm trying to find out.
The name's Marlow.
Aha.
I suspected now I am right.
Shirley came to the laboratory late from lunch today and very much upset.
She left again soon, right in the middle of our most important crimson test.
Your what?
Our crimson test.
Oh, yes.
Without one word to me she left.
Never does this happen before.
In all the five years she has been my loyal right hand.
Well, tell me, what's the nature of your research, Dr. Softman?
We are developing new commercial dyes.
Oh, such a beautiful crimson we have now.
Really?
Shirley knows as much as I do about all of it.
Mr. Marlow.
Hmm?
Was it you who opened the desk drawer there?
No.
I didn't notice it till now.
Two boxes of.32 caliber ammunition.
Nine shells gone from the top one.
She kept a gun there.
I've seen it before.
That's gone too.
What kind of trouble needs a gun, Mr. Marlow?
Oh, I could think of a few.
They all say we better locate Shirley and soon.
Now look, Doc, I want to ask you...
Just one moment, please.
Maybe you will know if this means anything.
I found this under her work table after she left this afternoon.
Is it maybe something?
I don't know.
Let me see.
Empty reservation envelope from Federal Airlines.
LA, New York.
Departure 1135 to Nibes.
Made out to Ruth Britton.
Ruth Britton.
Who is that?
I don't know her, but she must be something to Shirley.
Perhaps this Ruth Britton is the trouble.
LA airline number is here.
Where's the phone?
It's out there in the other room.
They're on the page.
Yeah, I got it.
Hudson 28610.
Good evening, Federal Airlines.
Agent Frederick Stowe speaking.
Frederick, do you have a Ruth Britton listed on your 1135 flight to New York?
Yes, sir.
Just one moment, sir.
I'll check.
Oh, no.
Yes, yes, we do.
Yeah, well, I've got a locator.
Do you have an address or a phone number there?
Oh, no, sir.
I do not.
And even if I did, I'm afraid I couldn't.
Look, Freddy Boy, Freddy Boy, this is important.
I need that information as soon as possible.
I'm going to go to the airport.
I'll be there in a minute.
Freddy Boy, this is important, I need that information.
Now, describe it to me.
What does she look like?
Oh, dear, I'm afraid I can't.
I must have sold the ticket.
I'm the only agent on duty, but I just can't seem to think where I...
Try, will you think?
I am.
How do you expect me to remember 75 or 80 faces every day?
Now, listen, I...
Good heavens, don't you think I get confused?
Yes, I do.
Now, I do.
Every time nine or ten jerks come in here at once, all wanting tickets at the same time.
Never mind.
Don't you think I have the right to...
Skip it.
Frederick, silly.
Now, look, Doc.
Now, look, do me a favor, will you?
What is it?
I'm going to wait here and wait for Shirley.
If she comes back, hold her.
I'm going to look up her husband, Gilbert.
The first stop was a newsstand.
I bought an L.A. star, turned to page five and found that the missing story was on a
man identified only as Denneker, who'd been hit by a taxi on Temple Street at 8 a.m.
The only reason it rated two columns was that before he lapsed into unconsciousness, he
told the ambulance crew from the Citizens Emergency Hospital that he knew he was going
to die and wanted to clear his conscience by confessing a crime he'd committed.
It ended with police standing by.
I drove on into Benedict Canyon wondering what kind of a bridge it was going to take
to span the gap between a female chemist and a downtown traffic accident.
I was still wondering when I got the number 510.
All I could see of Gilbert Vitello's studio over the brush around it was something pseudo
Spanish that had been stuck onto a piece of vertical real estate by an optimist in the
early 20s.
The path had been opened from the driveway to the house and as I walked through the door,
the piano music from inside got louder but not better.
Even in the long hair circle, that stuff needed a haircut.
Hey!
Vitello, break it up a minute, will you?
What's the meaning of this outburst?
I'm working and I won't be interrupted.
Who are you?
What do you want anyway?
Take it easy, Mr. Vitello.
My name is Marlowe.
Betty Cantor sent me here because she's worried about your wife.
The waitress worried about Shirley?
Why?
Well, she's in some kind of trouble.
Have you seen her tonight?
No, no, no.
Not since this morning, but that's not unusual.
I often work late.
My music is very demanding.
Now what gives that waitress the idea that Shirley's in trouble?
The old wife's reaction to a newspaper story.
It scared the wits out of her.
About a taxi hitting a man named Denneker.
Mean anything to you?
Denneker?
Shirley worked with a fellow by that name once, I believe.
Why would that story frighten her?
Well, I was hoping you'd tell me.
Do you have a gun?
A little 32 pistol that's at home.
Why?
It's gone.
Sit here.
What's this all about?
Tell me.
Tell me the truth and be quick about it.
Oh, shut up.
Answer my question.
All right.
My wife was shocked by that item on Denneker.
She isn't at home.
She isn't at Sulfman's lab and hasn't been all afternoon.
And what's more, she's got a gun.
That's all I know, except for one thing.
Who's Ruth Britton?
She's a friend of Shirley's from the East.
She's been visiting relatives out here.
Why?
Nothing.
She's got a reservation for her.
That's all.
Mr. Marlowe, if that's all you have to offer, why don't you get out of here so I can go
to work?
I'm quite certain if Shirley were actually in trouble, she'd come to me for help.
And incidentally, tell Betty Catter to take some, some, some vitamins or something.
She's becoming a meddlesome busybody.
You know, there was a quality about Gilbert Vitello that made me want to sock him on the
temperament with the heavy end of his grand piano.
And I started down the path to the driveway, I forgot about it, because a pair of headlights
slashed through the foliage like a giant sire.
I ran away, I could see and watch the girl in a brown suit get out of her sleek new Hudson
and start toward the house.
And she saw me.
She backed away, then threw me one scared look and darted into a side path like a jittery
cop entail.
I followed as fast as I could, but it was home ground.
I hurried in 20 yards, I was outclassed.
I lost her at the corner of a sagging shed and stopped to listen for her footsteps.
I heard something else.
Not in time to duck.
Oh!
Oh.
You, you, you, you, Marlow, is that you, Marlow?
Marlow, what happened, Marlow?
I heard a car coming over the car.
Oh, shut up, shut up.
Surely she slugged me.
I don't believe it, you're lying.
Okay, I'm lying.
What it's worth to you, die hard.
Your wife isn't kidding.
She told me personally with a blunt instrument.
Play that knee flat, Jack.
Mr. Marlow, did you get something?
Lumps.
How about you, Dr. Suffman?
No, nothing.
Come in, come in.
No, no one has come here.
You found out something?
Have you heard of a guy named Denneker, Doc?
Me?
Here of Morris Denneker?
Five times in the past three years, Morris Denneker in Chicago has beaten me by introducing
a new dye substance or a new process just days ahead of me.
Five times this happened.
He's a dye chemist too, huh?
A brilliant one.
I admire him.
But why do you ask me?
His blood pressure is beginning to fit like a rubber glove.
Denneker's in a hospital right here in LA.
He may not live and he wants to confess to a crime.
Here, look.
What?
Read it yourself.
When Shirley saw that story, it threw her into a panic.
And now, it only figures one way.
Your assistant has been selling your new developments to Denneker before you released them.
No, it is not true.
Shirley would not do this thing, not to me.
Okay, Doc, we'll see.
Now look, why don't you go back to your lab and wait?
I'm going to the hospital now and do some more fast additions.
If it comes right, just don't forget you're a scientist, will you?
Oh, I would not forget.
Now, you remember something, Mr. Marlow.
Two plus two does not always make four, especially when you are adding up human half.
In just a moment, the second act of Philip Marlow.
But first, Wednesday's Wonderful on CBS with Dr. Christian, Groucho Marx, Bing Crosby,
and Burns and Allen all coming your way over most of these same CBS stations.
This Wednesday, Brother Bob Crosby visits Bing.
Gracie Allen stumps the income tax expert.
Groucho will be on hand with his ad libs and teams of opposition.
And Dr. Christian makes a wily grandmother stick to the truth for once.
So be listening this Wednesday, won't you?
Now with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlow and tonight's
story, The Big Step.
It was 20 stop and go minutes through the snarled early evening traffic over to the
Citizens Emergency Hospital.
All the way, I kept hoping that Denica's confession wasn't going to have anything to do with Shirley
Vitillo.
But when I was there standing next to Detective Lieutenant Matthews and filling him into
his date, I racked that hope up under wishful thinking.
Morris Denica had already come too.
Yeah, Marlow, about a half hour ago.
He didn't say too much.
How much?
Only something about this woman you mentioned, there's Shirley Vitillo and her formula for
some kind of a bleaching agent.
Then he went out again.
And look, this Vitillo girl who currently adds up to something varied, what does she
look like?
Oh, blonde, about five-four, maybe 30.
Wearing a dark brown suit, no hat?
That's right.
She been around?
I saw her here in the hall about 45 minutes ago.
Claimed she was a reporter, but she didn't make any small talk with the other news hands.
I got a little suspicious.
Just then, Denica came too, so I went in there.
When I came back out, she was gone.
Hey, Marlow, you know who we can pick her up?
No, I don't, Lieutenant.
Doesn't look so good for her.
She could be pretty desperate right now, like a quick trip to the country.
Or like worse, she's got a gun, Matthews.
And now with Denica starting to talk, very little hope left.
I better be going.
Where?
Just going, just going, Matthews.
I'll keep in touch.
Wait a minute, look.
We have a big organization, Mr. Marlow.
We're equipped to handle all kinds.
We could do almost as good a job as you.
Just keep that in mind, will you?
Yeah, yeah.
And I'm glad you said almost.
So long.
I got back into my car and pointed it toward the Vitello place on Veteran Avenue again.
Because I didn't know where else I could possibly pick up Shirley's trail.
I felt like an uncomfortable emptiness was in the pit of my stomach.
You know, like the guy who stands on a street corner and watches an ambulance in turn scrape
up a traffic victim.
He knows he didn't have anything to do with it, but that knowledge doesn't make him feel
any better.
Shirley Vitello is headed for trouble, bad trouble.
And the pathetic little kid, Betty Canter, who came into my office and started the whole
thing, could get hurt in the process.
Well I parked in front of the place, which from inside, a desk lamp showed a circle of
light the size and color of a lemon lifesaver.
And the front door was open inches, as though somebody had left in a big hurry.
I walked on eggs as far as the door and nudged it.
And I saw it on a table in the far corner of the room, a note propped up against the
lamp and nothing else.
I started toting.
Don't move.
I'm behind you and I've got a gun.
Oh, fine.
32 caliber out of the desk drawer, no doubt.
No doubt.
Marlow, why are you mixing into something that's no business of yours?
I'm a private detective working for your friend Betty Canter.
She's worried about you, Shirley.
Marlow, what's done is done.
Betty Can't help me, you can't help me.
Nobody can help me.
I stole Softman's work and I sold it to Morris Deniker.
I didn't count on a deathbed confession.
Why'd you do it?
I love my husband and he needs money to go on with his work.
Oh.
Gilbert's in on this with you, huh?
No, no, no, no.
No, he isn't.
He, he thought my wages were high, that's all.
The note I left there on the table makes that clear.
Also, it...
Also what?
He says goodbye.
I love him, Marlow.
When I'm gone, he'll have enough money to carry on.
Keep the studio that means so much to him and nothing can be taken away from him.
I've seen to that.
Legal-like.
Just, what do you mean gone, Shirley?
How far is gone?
A long way, Marlow.
All the way.
Suicide?
Oh, now Shirley, you can't mean that.
Marlow, let's not talk anymore and don't bother about that phone.
It's only Gilbert's...
How do you know?
Well, when I pulled up outside here after I came from the hospital, he was home.
I didn't want to speak to him so I drove on until I came to a phone booth.
And then I called here and told him to meet me at the Saffron Bar.
It's an old hangout of ours.
You wanted to leave a note for him but didn't want to face him, is that it?
Yeah.
He'll keep calling on and off for quite a while before he comes back here.
I figured it would be better that way.
I didn't want him chasing me.
The sea air might give the big lug a cold.
It always did.
Well, Marlow, it looks like it's about time to put you away for safekeeping.
I don't think so, Shirley.
I think the phone is about...
No!
Next time, Marlow, it'll be more than a vase but just as fragile.
No, the closet seat aligned and strong as...it should hold you long enough.
Get in, Marlow.
Go on.
Okay.
In it is, baby.
But first...
What?
The step you're about to take, Shirley.
Listen...
Yeah, I know all about it.
It's a big step, isn't it, Marlow?
We'll save your breath.
I wouldn't be any happier in prison or running away, believe me.
I'd be a lot a bit happier.
So long, Marlow.
Nobody's home.
Shirley Vitillo was mixed up about a lot of things in life, but that doesn't include closets
because the one she put me in was strong.
The lining she called cedar must have been hand-me-down armor plate from a retired battle
wagon.
So all in all, I was 45 minutes ultimately kicking and resting while the insistent telephone
marked the five-minute intervals for me.
But finally, it was the wood around the lock that gave way.
And I was out.
Hello?
Hello, sir.
Who is this?
Marlow Vitillo, and save your questions till you hear what I have to say.
Marlow, where's my wife?
She was supposed to meet me here at the Saffron barn.
I said save it.
Now listen, your wife's out to kill herself.
No, Marlow, no!
Yes, tell me, did you two have a favorite spot out near the ocean?
I don't see what that has to do with it.
I don't care whether you see or not.
Did you or didn't you?
Yes, yes, the Redondo Fishing Pier below Santa Monica.
Good.
Now keep listening, Vitillo, and do as I say.
Come straight home.
But Marlow, I surely...
Do as I say, Vitillo.
I'm back here and sit tight with fingers crossed.
I worry about the pier.
Goodbye.
The second connection was broken.
I picked up the phone again, dialed 116, got through to police emergency operator, and
from there to Matthews, who was still at the Citizens Hospital.
I told him to pick me up in a squad car and get ready for a fast 10-mile drive to the
Redondo Fishing Pier.
But surely Vitillo was gonna kill herself.
Then I got outside and waited the four longest minutes of my life until finally Matthews screeched
up to a halt.
When I piled in, we took off.
Siren wide open.
It'll be less than a minute now, Marlow.
Pier's only a couple of blocks away.
Good.
Better have Mooney kill that siren, Lieutenant.
Jack, we want to come in quiet, Mooney.
Okay, Lieutenant.
Well, there she is.
That car's out on the pier.
Yeah, Mooney, pull up here, will ya?
We don't want to scare her into something.
Matthews.
What?
That crowd there halfway out on the pier.
There's a cop with us.
Yes, so there is.
You better drive right up, Mooney.
Looks like we're too late, Phil.
We were too late.
At the center of a circle of demorally curious who always panned the gate, we found a lying
face down in the greasy planks of the pier dead.
She'd shot herself through the heart with a gun, and the same.32 she'd used on me was
lying next to her.
Two bullets gone.
I explained the extra shot to Matthews.
Uh-huh.
Okay, one bullet fired up at her place and the other one here.
Well, I hope you're satisfied, Marlow.
What do you mean, satisfied?
I mean, single-handed.
You had to leave the cops out of it, didn't you?
You had to go up to Veteran Avenue all by your lonesome, didn't you?
Now, you wait a minute, Matthews.
I was only trying to-
Oh, I'm nuts.
Hey, Mooney, where's the nearest phone?
Over there, Lieutenant.
Across the street, the Triple Eagle Cafe.
The patrolman here's already called an ambulance.
All right, tell him she can be moved.
Come on, Marlow, I want to turn in a first report on this.
Mooney, pick us up at the cafe.
Right, Lieutenant.
Okay, boss.
Let's make it look good.
The Shirley Vitello was stealing formulas for those dyes from her boss and selling them
to this Morris Denneker.
Yeah.
Always rosy until Denneker walked out in front of a taxi early this morning.
That put him close to death and in the mood to talk.
Also put Shirley Vitello on the spot.
Hey, is that the place you want to phone from?
Yeah, yeah.
Look, one thing more, Marlow.
The girl's motive all the way through.
She loved her husband, he loved his work.
Yeah, her too?
Yeah, after his work.
So since he didn't make any dough, she still will keep him going and close to her.
There's the phone, Phil.
Come on, Willie, I may need you to fill in the blanks for me.
Marlow, I said I would-
I heard you, I heard you.
The phone can wait, Lieutenant.
Come on over here.
What?
I want to talk to that piano player.
Piano player?
What about?
The tricky way he has of playing Blue Skies.
What?
Hey, Bud, that's all right.
You got a mean left hand there.
Yeah, I open in Carnegie Hall next week.
Don't miss me.
I'll try not to.
It's just terrific what you do with that tune, you know?
My own particular arrangement.
Nobody else's, huh?
Oh, nobody.
I've been working on this arrangement for a week.
That's all I wanted to know.
Hey, Marlow, what are you getting at?
The phone, I've heard enough.
Where'd you say it was, Matthew?
Over there, the left of the bar.
But Phil, what are we doing?
What time is it, Lieutenant?
Five after twelve.
Marlow, what is it?
A switch, a switch, Matthew.
A switch?
Yeah, one that'll knock your badge off.
You'll get a load of this.
All right, I'll listen.
Good evening, Federal Airwaves.
Agent Hedrick Stowdre.
Listen, Frederick, I'm the party who called before about the reservations for Ruth Britton
on the 1135 for New York.
Oh, yes, I remember you.
I'll probably always remember.
Never mind.
It's police business, Freddie.
Did the plane leave on schedule?
Of course it did.
But Miss Britton didn't make it, and she didn't bother to call and cancel her reservation.
Thanks, I've heard enough.
So far, so good, Matthew.
Yeah, which means what?
The Saffron Bar in Hollywood.
What?
The Saffron Bar in Hollywood.
Yeah, I've heard enough.
I'll call you back.
Which means what?
I don't think it's as bad as all that, Gilbert, old boy.
Marlow, you were caught the most insensitive of all people.
What would you know about music?
Just for the record, he's not a cop.
My question still stands.
What do you know about music?
As a matter of fact, not much.
But you know, I'm fascinated by what they're doing with instruments these days.
Really?
What are they doing that might fascinate you?
Well, for example, take that picture where the score is done by only one instrument, as
if it...
What's more, it doesn't sound like a zipper.
To a trained ear, a zipper is a zipper.
You mean you can't make one instrument sound like another?
Well, for example, a guitar like a piano?
Don't be ridiculous.
Now, wait a minute, wait a minute.
Not so ridiculous.
Why, only tonight I heard a guitar that sounded just like a piano.
Real tricky arrangement it was, too.
Sounded...
You're joking.
Oh, no, no.
You must have heard it, too.
It was while we were talking on the telephone.
The telephone?
I talked to you?
Sure you did.
You remember?
You said you were calling from here, the Saffron Bar, but the conversation was being scored
by the pianist at the Triple Eagle Cafe at Redondo Beach.
A real tricky arrangement in more ways than one.
I didn't mean it.
I didn't really want to.
All right, what's the rest of it, Phil?
He didn't want to quit his work and spend the rest of his life hiding in some forgotten
corner of the globe.
Which was her plan?
Yeah.
As I figure it, once Shirley knew she was finished, she decided they should both run for it.
He was in on what she was doing all along.
And the suicide note?
It was part of her plan.
Leave Puppy here and innocent with the money she got for her shenanigans.
Then frame her own suicide, a trail that would lead us to the Redondo Pier, her hat
float floating in the drink.
And after a couple of days of searching, we say the tide probably carried her body off
the sea, close case.
That's right.
In the meantime, she's phoned in New York as Ruth Britton and is heading on from there.
Hubby here to join her at a later date.
Yeah, finally.
Hubby double crossed her and shot her so he can sit tight with the money right here.
That's it, Matthews.
Please, please give me another chance.
Oh, shut up.
Wipe and dry, Matthews, and take him away.
I didn't go along with Matthews.
I didn't even bother about my car, which I'd left in front of the Vitello place.
I'd had enough for one night.
Enough for the kind of person who'd hitch his wagon to a star, only if the twinkle he saw
on the horizon was the reflection of the dollar sign.
Oh, yeah, they were a pair, all right, the Vitellos.
A pair who finally canceled each other out.
You know what?
I'm glad of it.
The Adventures of Philip Marlowe, 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 Gene Bates, Paul Dubov, Vivi Janis, Edgar Berrier, and Peter Leed.
Detective Lieutenant Matthews is played by Larry Dobkin.
The special music is composed and conducted by Richard O'Rantz.
Be sure and be with us again next week when Philip Marlowe says...
This time I tangled with a mad Scotchman,
a phony English lord and a beautiful blonde corpse in a freight house,
all because of a butler who walked on his knuckles.
How about tying a metal string around your finger today to remind yourself to file your 1949 income tax return as soon as possible?
The 15th of March isn't several miles down the road the way it used to be.
It's almost at your front door.
And you'd certainly get a scare if you came home one evening to find it sitting right smack in your living room saying smugly,
Well, you forgot to file your income tax return. What now, little man?
So why not set aside tonight as income tax night and file your 1949 return?
This is Roy Rowan speaking.
This is CBS where Burns and Ellen are heard every Wednesday night.
The Columbia Broadcasting System.