Generic Radio Workshop Script Library (BACK)

Series: Candy Matson--Yukon 2-8209
Show: The Black Cat
Date: Jun 05 1950

CANDY MATSON-YUKON 2-8209
6:30 - 7:00 PM (50)
/MONDAY, JUNE 5TH, 1950

MUSIC:

(ECHO) FADE IN PIANO CHORD EFFECT,

SOUND:

FADE IN MATCHING PHONE BELL. RECEIVER OFF.

CANDY:

Hello. Yukon 2-8209. Yes. This is Candy Matson.

MUSIC:

INTO 2ND PART OF CANDY THEME, FADE FOR...

ANNCR:

The National Broadcasting Company presents--Candy Matson--Yukon 2-8209.

MUSIC:

CANDY THEME TO FINISH.

SOUND:

CAR ROLLING ALONG. INTO B.G.

CANDY:

Well, that was a pleasant afternoon, Rembrandt, dear.

REM:

Pleasant--but unprofitable. As many times as I've been to the horse races, I never seem to have the gumption to quit when I'm ahead.

CANDY:

Like Damon Runyon once said, horse players die broke.

REM:

I'm also reminded of that old song. Horses Don't Bet on People. But the scenery was lovely. I enjoyed it.

CANDY:

Yes, Golden Gate Fields is a beautiful park.

REM:

Why are you headed up into the Berkeley hills, Candy?

CANDY:

I wanted to avoid that traffic on the Eastshore Highway this time of afternoon. And too, I just had a thought.

REM:

Bully for you. So few people have them any more. What might the idea be?

CANDY:

I know a cozy little spot to eat over in Lafayette. How would you like to have dinner there, instead of town?

REM:

Splendid, girl. Sounds delightful. My-this is rather forlorn country up this way.

CANDY:

Yes, The real estate boys haven't caught up with it yet. Wait till they see the results of the recent census. Homes will be sprouting all
over those hills like the poppies are now.

MAN:

(OFF) Help I Help me-please !

CANDY:

What was that?

REM:

It came from back there, Candy! Must be from that house. It's the only one around here.

MAN:

Come back! Help--serious.

CANDY:

Yes. It is that house. Let's find out what this is all about, ducky.

MUSIC:

GLISS UP THEN INTO CANDY THEME AND FADE FOR,..,

ANNCR:

Now there's a fine start for a cozy dinner in Lafayette. It could only happen to Candy Matson, San-Francisco's well known private investigator. Whether she's at home in her penthouse on Telegraph Hill, or at the races in Albany, it makes no difference. Trouble always seems to pop up its dangerous head. And this was no exception. A quiet afternoon, watching the wrong horses finish in the right positions, then driving along a road on top of Berkeley's skyline--and out of the dusk, a man's cry for help. That cry led to a maze of events that would have done justice to an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Want to hear what developed after the man called for help? Well, here's the gal to do it. Candy Matson.

(MUSIC UP TO FINISH)

 

CANDY:

What was that the man said about a maze of events? He's right--but in oh, such a mild way. Just to pick a word at random--it was--murder! Sorry if the word sets up a feeling like a finger nail down a blackboard--but leave us a confront it--that's what it was--murder. And it might have gone on ad infinitum, if I---well, that's part of the story and comes later. What comes firster, was the fact that I stopped the car, turned around and drove up in front of this lonely house high above Berkeley overlooking all of San Francisco Bay. The front door was open, so Rembrandt and I walked right in. There, by an open window, was a man on his knees, draped over the window sill from where he had called.

MAN:

Thank you.. Oh, thank you.

CANDY:

It's a heart attack. Quick, Rembrandt, Help me get him on the couch,

REM:

Surely. (THEY INDICATE LIFTING MAN ONTO COUCH)

CANDY:

Then we'll get his collar open and loosen his tie. There we are.

MAN:

My wife. Gone for doctor.

CANDY:

Good, How long ago?

MAN:

Don't know. Ten minutes, maybe, Can't wait. Too late. Here. Take this envelope. Deliver it--deliver--(GASPS)

CANDY:

Take it easy. Don't try to talk. Save all the strength you possibly can.

MAN:

This. Important. Must talk. Must. (SIGHS GENTLY)

REM:

I've got his tie off, Candy.

CANDY:

Yes. Never mind his collar, though. It won't do him any good. Not now,

REM:

Candy! You don't moan he's--he's dead.

CANDY:

I'm afraid so. I can't feel any pulse.

REM:

This is a fine kettle of smelt. How do we explain this, dove?

CANDY:

The only way to explain it. Just tell what happened, the way it happened.

REM:

Who will believe that we were just driving along a lonely road, heard this chap call for help, went to his aid, and then had him expire gracefuily half a minute lator. It's too pat. Candy.

CANDY:

The truth is always hard to swallow, Rembrandt.

REM:

Well, this is cozy. What do we do now?

CANDY:

Leave. Report it to the police and be on our way. There's nothing we can do by hanging around.

REM:

We could stay and console the widow when she returns.

CANDY:

No, I hate scenes like that. She'll cry, then I'll cry and I'll feel miserable for a week. Come on, ducky, Let's go.

REM:

You aren't forgetting the envelope, are you?

CANDY:

No, That was the request of a dying man. I'll follow through with it,

SOUND:

FOOTSTEPS. DOOR OPENS

REM:

Ohhh!

CANDY:

Rembrandt, What's wrong?

REM:

It startled me. A black cat. Just ran across the doorstep in front of us.

CANDY:

Now don't start anything like that. A cat's a cat whether it's black green or beige.

SOUND:

DOOR CLOSES

CANDY:

It's only the kind that walk on two logs that make me worry.

REM:

Well, start worrying then. Here comes one of the males of the species.

DOC:

(FADE IN) Oh, pardon me.

CANDY:

Certainly. Are you the doctor?

DOC:

Yes. That's right.

CANDY:

I'm afraid you're just a bit late, doctor. The gentleman in there is dead.

DOC:

What? Jerome dead? Oh, the fool. I warned him.

CANDY:

I'm not being curious, you understand--but where's the gentleman's wife?

DOC:

Why-inside-isn't she?

CANDY:

No. Just before he died, he said she'd gone to get you.

DOC:

She called me. On the phone. I assumed it was from the house hero.

DOC:

Well!

REM:

I just knew something like this would happen. It was that black cat.

CANDY:

Oh, 'ducky, come come. By the way, doctor...what's the gentleman's name?

DOC:

Moreland. Jerome Moreland. Wait just a moment, young lady. If you don't know him--what were you doing Inside?

REM:

That's a good question. Answer the good doctor, Candy.

CANDY:

Well, my friend here and I were driving up the road. Obviously Mr. Moreland made it to the window, opened it and called to us as we were passing. I turned about, went in--the door was open--found him on his knees up against the window sill. We lifted him onto the couch, tried to make him comfortable. But it was too late. He died in less than thirty seconds.

DOC:

Mm. Come along with me, will you please? First I want to examine Jerome. Then I'll have to have some Information from you for my reports,

MUSIC:

LOW STAB AND UNDER FOR...

CANDY:

We went back inside the house and the doctor busied himself with' whatever doctors busy themselves with when they examine a corpse, Rembrandt and I stood in the entrance hall and watched while we had a smoke. When the medic finished, he fired a volley of questions at us--where we lived, how long, occupations, etcetera and etcetera. Then he excused us, It felt funny being on the opposite end of an inquistion. But the doctor was nice enough about it--and it had to be don. We gave up the idea of dinner in Lafayette, drove back across the bay bridge and ate at a place in Chinatown. And all the time I had one tiny, gnawing thought in the back of my head. What had happened to Moreland's wife? When one's husband is dying, you don't stop off for a pound of hamburger and call the doctor from the butcher shop. After dinner, Rembrandt, who had been silent--spoke up, (MUSIC BUMPS OUT)

REM:

Dove, I can't place me finger on the exact cause--but I have a slight touch of the vapors.

CANDY:

Oh, ducky-I'm sorry.

REM:

It was either the sight of that poor man dying, on the couch-- or the tomato chow yuk, In either case, I'd like to get home, attack the aspirin bottle and retire to me downy. Would you be a love and drive me to me domicile?

CANDY:

Certainly, dear, I've got a little errand I want to run anyway.

REM:

Oh, girl. Are you going to entangle, yourself in this Berkeley thing?

CANDY:

You know me and my hunches, Rembrandt. Something smells about this deal, I don't like it. In the first place-I'm not too sure about that doctor. The more I think about It--the more it strikes me that he gave the late Jerome Moreland a very-amateurish going over.

REM:

I noticed that, too.

CANDY:

That was a family home, ducky. It showed great huge gobs of loving care. If Moreland's wife was that kind of a home maker, she wouldn't just run out of the house and call the doctor and forget to come back.

REM:

I admit-it does sound suspicious. It's that cat, believe me.

CANDY:

You do have a touch of the vapors. Come, lamb, I'll take you home You're becoming delirious.

MUSIC:

LOW STAB AND UNDER FOR....

CANDY:

I drove Rembrandt to his place on California Street, then over Kearney to the Hall of Justice. It was just possible that my number one boy, Inspector Ray Mallard of San Francisco Homicide, might still be on the job homiciding. The only place to park was a red zone. So I took the loyalty oath, parked, and went into the grim grey structure of justice. Mallard was still homiciding. (MUSIC BUMPS OUT)

MALL:

Well, cupcake. What brings you around to these dank dungeons?

CANDY:

Not love. Not at this late hour.

MALL:

If that isn't just like a suspicious footflat. A girl drops around to say hello and right off the bat she gets a verbal left right in the chin, you've got to admit, Candy--the thing looks phony. Social calls are usually made a bit earlier in the evening.

CANDY:

Okay, you've got me. I'm here on business.

MALL:

You see? If you'd admitted it in the first place, we would have saved five lines of dialogue. Whales the pitch?

CANDY:

I just met a doctor.

MALL:

How thrilling. That doesn't happen to just anyone.

CANDY:

Said doctor affected me like aphis.

MALL:

What's the ephus on the aphis?

CANDY:

It has something to do with a gent who died under my very nose, Mallard dear.

MALL:

That's occupational with you. Now suppose we start from the beginning. Then I can sort of sort the facts.

CANDY:

Do you know a man by name of Jerome Moreland?

MALL:

Jerome Moreland! Are you kidding? He's merely one of the world's outstanding scientists.

CANDY:

Shake hands then with the hand that unloosened his tie. He up and died this afternoon.

MALL:

What? Why, this is terrible Candy.

CANDY:

Mallard dear. I've never seen you so quite upset.

MALL:

It's going to upset the entire country. Dr, Moreland was a very vital cog in the United State's international security.

CANDY:

I'm afraid I don't understand.

MALL:

You will when you start reading page one in tonight's papers. Come, come, Candy. You're better than that. Moreland, Moreland. Doesn't it mean anything to you?

CANDY:

Nope, sorry.

MALL:

He's the man who played one of the leading roles in developing the A Bomb. He contributed largely to the H Bomb, And from what I've heard-he was working on something currently that would have outmoded both of 'em,

CANDY:

Oh, sure... Now I remember. He made the cover of Time about a month ago, didn't he?

MALL:

That's the one.

CANDY:

Imagine. And I was there when he died.

MALL:

How did it happen, Candy?

CANDY:

Rembrandt and I were driving up this road in Berkeley, We heard this fellow call for help from his house. We went back and there he was. Heart attack, I'm sure.

MALL:

What a ghame^ Moreland meant an awful lot to the security of this country. He was one of the colossal brains of the world. Of course, you'll be called for the inquest, Candy.

CANDY:

Oh, sure. That I know. After all the data the doctor put down, I'm going to be the star.

MALL:

Who was the doctor?

CANDY:

(BEAT) Ah-what?

MALL:

His name. What was the doctor's name?

CANDY:

(BEAT) Mallard--and this you won't believe, I forgot to ask.

MALL:

(BIT SPACED) And you make a living as a private eye. Ohhhh, Candy, give it up.

CANDY:

Marry me and I will.

MALL:

Let's not change the subject.

CANDY:

One of these days, one of my hints is going to seep through that sponge-like head of yours. In the meantime, thanks for the information on Jerome Moreland.

SOUND:

CHAIR PUSHED BACK

MALL:

You leaving, cupcake?

CANDY:

Uh huh, I've gone as far as I can here. That supersonic barrier of yours, Mallard, is a little hard to crack.

MUSIC:

TWO OR THREE CHORDS AND UNDER FOR?

CANDY:

As I left the Hall of Justice, the fog was oozing in through the Goblen Gate. The lights of the city shot up- and In turn, were sent back from the fog bank, giving the town a fluorescent look, I bought a paper-and sure enough-there were the details on the death of Dr. Jerome Moreland. Headlines---that's what. He was everything Mallard said he was--a world renowned figure. And of course, my name was mentioned prominently as having been there at the time of his death. I went home?hit the sack and had a fistful of dreams for myself. Mallard was the star--in color. The fade-out came with me in Mallard's arms just as the bell rang and salved me from going another round. It was nine o' clock the following morning.

(MUSIC BLENDS INTO PHONE BELL)

 

SOUND:

PHONE BELL. RECEIVER OFF

CANDY:

Hello. Yukon 2-8209.

MAN:

(FILTER) Miss Candy Matson?

CANDY:

That'srlght,

MAN:

Sorry to wake you. This is the coroner's office in Berkeley,

CANDY:

Oh yeah. I forgot about this.

MAN:

You'll have to appear at the Inquest of Dr. Jerome Moreland. This afternoon at one o' clock. This office.

CANDY:

Okay, I'll be there. Thanks.

MAN:

Quite all right.

MUSIC:

HIGH STAB AND UNDER FOR?

CANDY:

That definitely was the end of Mallard in color, so I got up, showered, pressed and-started applying the lipstick- and that's when I remembered. Looking for the lipstick in my purse, there was the letter the good Doctor Moreland had entrusted to me. I'd actually forgotten all about it. I looked at the envelope. It was addressed to Hans Middlestadt, Snug Harbor Hotel, Embarcadero, San Francisco. I had an appointment to have my hair done, so Mr, Middlestadt would have to wait. I dropped down to my girl, Veda. I sat, she worked, and several pin curls later I picked up Rembrandt and drove over to the Coroners Office in Berkeley. It was the usual routine. Questions, answers, I testified, then Rembrandt, then the doctor we had bumped into the day before. Still no Mrs. Moreland, yhat, to me, was the major issue in the whole deal. There was only one opening. That was Hans Middlestadt at the Snug Harbor Hotel on the waterfront in San Francisco. That's where I went. (MUSIC BUMPS OUT)

MAN:

Who?

CANDY:

Stand to windward and I'll do it again, Middlestadt. Hans Middlestadt.

MAN:

I don't believe we have anyone registered here under that name. Of course, I've just returned from vacation.


CANDY:

Well, if you can get your mind off the whispering pines, would you take a look In your book?

MAN:

Yes, of course.

SOUND:

RIFFLE OF PAGES. THEN SLOW TO ONE AND STOP

MAN:

I'm terribly sorry. There doesn't seem to be any Mlddlestadt listed.

CANDY:

One moment. Buster. What's that? Right there.

MAN:

Oh. I must have overlooked that. That is Middlestadt, isn't it?

CANDY:

It doesn't spell Smithy Now come on. What's the room number?

MAN:

(LOW AND HARD) Look, miss. Why don't you beat it? You're just leading with your chin.

CANDY:

It's my chin and I'll lead with it if I want to.

MAN:

Are you acquainted with Herr Middlestadt?

CANDY:

Acquainted with him? Of course. Not only that--I have a very important letter, for him.

MAN:

(STILL LOW) Well, why didn't you say so? Room 332. To the left after you get out of the elevator.

MUSIC:

LOW STAB AND UNDER FOR

CANDY:

The clerk lifted an eyebrow toward the north, indicating where the elevator was. I found i.t--the elevator--not the eyebrow-and hoisted myself to the third floor, A few steps around a dingy corridor and I was face to face with room 332. I knocked.

SOUND:

SUIT SOUND TO ACTION, B,G,

CANDY:

I cooled my heels for about ten seconds and knocked again. Still no answer, So, I tried the door. It squeaked open. The blinds were down and I was in almost a dusky darkness. I tumbled around for the light switch, found it on the wall next to the door and clicked it on. What I saw wasn't pretty. The body of what had been an attractive woman in her early forties. Sprawled out on the floor on the other side of the bed. (MUSIC PUNCTUATES AND BACK UNDER AGAIN FOR,..) It only took one look to tell me that she was dead. A set of finger marks around her neck told me how it had been done. And another look at her neck told me who it was. A locket, with the name inscribed in back-Ruth Moreland. (MUSIC PUNCTUATES AGAIN) I'm glad I got that far-because--that's when the lights went out. (MUSIC OUT BY NOW)

SOUND:

SAP ON HEAD.

CANDY:

GROANS PETITELY.

SOUND:

BODY FALLS OVER SLOWLY.

MUSIC:

HIGH STAB AND UNDER FOR...

CANDY:

I floated through space for an eon or two. Then vaguely, something came into audible focus, A voice. A familiar voice. Yes-it was Mallard. At first it sounded as though he were coming from a deep well. Hm, so that's where I was. Then his voice changed.

MALL:

(ECHO) Come on. Candy, Snap out of it. (CUE) You've been out long enough.

MALL:

(FILTER) (NOTE TO ENGINEER: SWITCH FILTER POSITIONS AS MALLARD SNEAKS) Come on, cupcake. Get with it, I'm tired of having to hover over you like a duenna. So you've got a lump on your head. I've got work to do^ (BY THIS TIME GET THE FILTER AS NORMAL AS POSSIBLE)

CANDY:

Little by little his voice came into normal shape.

MALL:

Candy, be reasonable. Untwirl your eyes and talk to me.

CANDY:

The lights came back on. Mallard stopped spinning around and I saw where I was. A cot in an emergency hospital.

MALL:

That's the girl.

CANDY:

Hi, Mallard, Wha hoppn?

MALL:

Supposing you tell me.

CANDY:

I would if I could but I can't. I know I got smacked, though.

MALL:

That's for sure. You could use that knob on your head for a bookend.

CANDY:

How did I get here?

MALL:

It seems whoever tapped you on the noggin didn't want it to take permanently. They gave you the treatment lightly--just enough to put you in a blackout, then went through your purse like a tornado through Kansas. The room clerk at a joint called The Snug Harbor phones the police to come and pick up one limp tomato named Candy Matson--and one very dead tomato name of Ruth Foreland. Did you have anything to do with Mrs. Moreland's ugly finish, Candy?

CANDY:

You know better than that, Mallard.

MALL:

Answer me this, then. Could that hotel clerk have given you the wallop?

CANDY:

Might. But I don't think so.

MALL:

I was just wondering. He had shifty eyes. Like the Fortyniner backfield. Okay, So somebody goes through your purse. Candy--look at me. As best you can. Thatssa girl. Now. Do you have information somebody could be after?

CANDY:

Um hm.

MALL:

It's not in your purse.

CANDY:

Mallard-have you been going through my purse, too?

MALL:

Don't get so excited. It was only in the line of duty.

CANDY:

Don't you realize that a woman's purse is private domain?

MALL:

Not when the owner of said purse is laid out unconscious on a hotel room floor. Now-answer my question. Do you have any information someone could be after?

CANDY:

I already did. I'll repeat the answer. Uh huh.

MALL:

Like I said before-it's not in your purse. Where is it?

CANDY:

I have it on me.

MALL:

Oh.

CANDY:

(LITTLE LAUGH) Much safer than a purse.

MALL:

Ah-yeah. What's it all about. Candy?

CANDY:

Honestly, Mallard, dear...I can't tell, I really don't know.

MALL:

What's the information?

CANDY:

I don't know.

MALL:

Who killed Ruth Moreland?

CANDY:

I don't know.

MALL:

(SIGHS) You know, Candy--some times our friendship makes my job awfully tough. Okay, So we don't know nuttin, The chief is terribly unhappy about this whole thing. Take my advice. Don't go on any long trips.

MUSIC:

HIGH STAB AND UNDER FOR.....

CANDY:

I wobbled to my feet and Mallard took me back down to the waterfront to get my car. Then he patted me on the hand and I went home. Now I was more than just curious. If somebody tagged my head with a sap, I wanted to know what the reason was. So throwing etiquette out the window, I reached down inside where I was keeping the letter, and opened the envelope. (MUSIC BUMPS OUT)

SOUND:

RIP OPEN ENVELOPE.

CANDY:

Addressed to Hans Middlestadt, it read: Too many after Formula 12-K. Have decided on this method. In case my heart goes bad, you will receive this. Look for the collar on Jake. Keep up the good work, Jerry.

MUSIC:

HIGH STAB AND UNDER FOR...

CANDY:

Now where was I? Look for a collar on Jake. Jake who--whom? What sort of a collar? Barrymore? Prince of Wales? Hoover? In spite of the Gene Krupa symphony going on in my head, I wanted to hear more. The only chance of getting same was to re-visit the late Dr. Jerome Moreland's house in Berkeley. I eased back over the Bay Bridge, held out my hand with two bits at the toll gate, held my breath as I passed the clam flats and whipped up into the hills, There it was. The house where Rembrandt and I had heard the late scientist calling. Naturally, it was locked. But I knew a way to get in. Suddenly, I was. (MUSIC BUMPS OUT) I probed about-expecting nothing, and found just that-nothing. I tried the back door. It led out onto a terraced patio. I came up short. There--under a tree--was a small boy, sitting with a cat in his lap. The same cat, I imagined, that had frightened Rembrandt. (MUSIC BUMPS OUT,)

SOUND:

LEGIT CAT MEOW.

CANDY:

Well. Hello there, sonny.

BOY:

Hello.

CANDY:

What's your name?

BOY:

Tommy. What's yours, lady?

CANDY:

Candy.

BOY:

That's a pretty name.

HANS:

(BIT OFF) Yes, it is. Very pretty. (FADING IN) I hope I didn't startle you.

CANDY:

Well, yes, you did, frankly.

HANS:

My apologies. I was looking for my son. He must have climbed over the fence. I didn't expect to find him here--now that both Dr. and Mrs. Moreland have passed away, Tommy-where have you been?

BOY:

Right here. Playing with the cat.

HANS:

Yes, of course. Here. Let me have the cat. That's a good lad. (START TO FADE.) You come right home now. Mommy says that dinner is almost ready. Again I'm sorry, miss. I hope I didn't frighten you. Come right home. Tommy.

CANDY:

(BEAT) That's a pretty cat, Tommy. How long have you had him?

BOY:

Oh, he's not mine. He lives here with Mr. Moreland.

CANDY:

Oh, I see. Well, don't you think you'd better go along with your daddy?

BOY:

That's not my daddy.

CANDY:

What???? Who is he, Tommy?.

BOY:

I don't know. I never saw him before.

CANDY:

What do you know about that! Listen to me. Tommy, What's the cat's name?

BOY:

Jake.

CANDY:

Thanks, Tommy. I'll see you later. You've got one gross of popsicles coming -- on me.

MUSIC:

HIGH STAB AND UNDER FOR,,.

CANDY:

Sometimes l'm a dope. I should have sniffed something when the guy didn't question my presence in Moreland yard. Now he had a head start on me. He'd disappeared around the corner of the house and I ran over there. Nothing but fence. Only one way out--and that was over. I wasn't too familiar with fence climbing tactics-but I could learn--and did--in a hurry, I shimmied over to the other side just in time to catch a glimpse of my man, with the cat clutched firmly under his arm. He was running down the back lot. There was a little stream running through the property, dividing the homes on one side of the block from those on the far side. I saw the plan he had in mind. He was going to cut across the small wooden foot bridge, duck up through one of the yards on the other side, out in front where he obviously had a car waiting for him. I saw I'd never be able to head him off on foot so I ran back the way I came in, found my car and whipped around to the other street. Empty. It was a one way street, so I followed, taking what I thought would be the same course as my quarry. I must have gone about fifteen blocks, when all of a sudden I was confronted by, one, a crowd, two, a couple of very messy looking cars embracing each other head on.

(MUSIC BUMPS OUT)

 

CAST:

AD L1BS IN E.G. MAKE 'EM REAL. (CUSSING IS OUT)

CANDY:

What's the commotion, officer?

MAN:

Take a look, I shouldn't have to explain that.

CANDY:

Quite a tangle, anyone hurt?

MAN:

Yeah, the lady in the sedan is pretty badly banged up. The guy in the coupe is dead.

CANDY:

The guy in the-that's him!

MAN:

What? Do you know him?

CANDY:

I-no. Ah-was there any sign of a cat? A black cat with white paws.

MAN:

Have you been drinking, lady?

CANDY:

No, officer. That man had a cat with him.

MAN:

I haven't seen any cats. And I was only a block away when I heard the crash.

CANDY:

Then Jake's bound to be in the vicinity. Excuse me, officer. Iv'e got to see a cat about a man.

MUSIC:

LOW STAB AND UNDER FOR?

CANDY:

I got out of the car, left the officer with his mouth open and his arches flat. Now if I was a cat, where would I go? Someplace away from the confusion of people and wrecked automobiles. That's where I looked and sure enough?I found Jake in five minutes. I picked him up, got back in the car drove over to the Hall Of Justice in San Francisco. I didn't have to worry about my friend in the coupe--I knew where we could find him if we needed him. On a slab in the Berkeley morgue. I found Mallard sitting at his desk going over some papers. I walked in and plopped Jake, the cat, right in front of him. (MUSIC MEOWS OUT)

MALL:

What the--get that thing out of here, Candy.

CANDY:

What's the matter. Mallard dear? Is the great bold footflat scared of cats?

MALL:

It doesn't look dignified. Get him out of here.

CANDY:

Uh uh, I have a hunch Jake is a very valuable cat. He belonged to the late Dr. Jerome Moreland.

MALL:

What are you up to. Candy?

CANDY:

See that collar around Jake's neck? It has a little container on It. Pry it open, Mallard. I think we'll find something.

MALL:

Hmm, It's a solid little thing. Wait a minute.

SOUND:

DESK DRAWER OPENS. THEN BLOWS--LITTLE ONES, ON SMALL METAL.

MALL:

There we are.

CANDY:

Wait a minute. Come here, Jake. On the floor. That's it. Empty the tube, Mallard.

MALL:

(BEAT) Well, what do you know about that. Microfilm.

CANDY:

And five will get you ten that they contain the formula for Dr. Moreland's latest development.

MALL:

Okay, cupcake. Start unraveling the mystery.

CANDY:

Well, this is going to sound incredible--but it's true, so help me. Just before Dr, Moreland died on the couch, he gave me an envelope, asking me to deliver it to the name on the outside, Hans Middlestadt, Snug Harbor Hotel, Embarcdero, San Francisco waterfront. That's where I got smacked over the head--by Hans Middlestadt, himself. He'd read the accounts in the paper stating that I was present at Moreland's demise. He figured the good doctor had given me information to pass on, whacked me on the beanie and went through my purse.

MALL:

I'd like to have a talk with that guy.

CANDY:

It's too late. Mallard, He's busy atoning for his sins, he was killed this afternoon in an auto crash in Berkeley.

MALL:

Well, that saves me a spot of work. I don't like guys who go around slugging my favorite private eye.

CANDY:

When I got home, after having my head examined by a sap, I decided to look at the message inside the envelope, I thought that if it was worth my getting my skull cracked, I was entitled to snitch a look. The meat of the thing indicated that said Middlestadt was to look for the collar on Jake. That left me nowhere, Mallard, until I got to thinking about what Rembrandt had said earlier. It was the cat. I had kidded Rembrandt about that. Then I did some more thinking. It was just a hunch, but it worked. A little boy told me the cat's name was Jake. The cat carried vital information in that thing on his collar. Just how vital remains to be seen when you have your boys enlarge that microfilm.

MALL:

You were right. It is incredible, Candy. How about Mrs. Moreland? How did she figure in the deal?

CANDY:

The way I get it is this, Moreland and Middlestadt had worked together. Just recently, Moreland had finished his formula. He'd been working night and day. As a matter of fact, that;s what brought on his fatal heart attack. In his type of work, he trusted no one, except Hans Middlestadt. A bad trust--as Middlestadt was a foreign agent and he was here for the express purpose of getting the facts and figures away from Moreland. He became impatient, bumped into Mrs. Moreland on her way to call the doctor, forced her to go to his hotel where he tried to make her tell him where the Doctor kept his records. She wouldn't talk. So, in a wild burst of frenzy, he choked her to death. That was when I walked in-shortly after.

MALL:

These spy boys are tough cookies.

CANDY:

Yes. But not especially smart. If he'd been patient, I'd have given him that informalion--wllllngly--according to Doctor Moreland's dying request. Isn't that irony for you?

MALL:

That's right. The poor dope was bilked by his own chicanery

CANDY:

As it was, he almost got away with it. If it hadn't been for that auto wreck, he'd have been off and running--back to his comrades. And I use the word deliberately.

MALL:

Well, Candy, I've got to admit you used your head on this one.

CANDY:

I most certainly did, I've still got the lump. Come on Mallard, knock off for a little while. You can buy me a Gibson.

MALL:

A gibson? Sure, You've got one coming.

CANDY:

And while we're at it-one big bowl of milk for Jake. Straight.

MUSIC:

CANDY THEME AND UNDER FOR?.

ANNCR:

Listen again next week at this same time. For excitement and adventure--just dial-

CANDY:

Candy Matson, Yukon 2-8209.

MUSIC:

UP A MOMENT> THEN UNDER AGAIN FOR....

ANNCR:

Heard tonight were Lu Tobin as Hans Middlestadt, Jack Cahill as the doctor and George Spelvin Junior as the boy, Tommy. The program stars Natalie Masters as Candy and is written and directed by Monty Masters. Sound effects were created by Bill Brovmell. Eloise Rowan was heard at the organ. The characters in tonight's story are entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people is purely co-incidental. Dudley Manlove speaking. The program came to you from San Francisco.

MUSIC:

CANDY TO FINISH.

ANNCR:

This is NBC, the National Broadcasting Company