Old Time Radio Detective - Sam Spade
The Death and Company Caper - Sam Spade | 08/09/1946 (Ep005)
Hope you enjoy this episode of Sam Spade! Look for an ad-free option soon. We offer a Crime, Detective OTR radio station and many other podcasts at theaterofthemind-otr.com - Audio Credit: The Old Time Radio Researchers Group. Licensed under - All Podcasts @ Spreaker | Apple Podcasts | YouTube Music
- Duration:
- 29m
- Broadcast on:
- 14 Sep 2024
- Audio Format:
- mp3
The hair-raising adventures of Sam Spade Detective brought to you by the makers of Wild Rude Creme Oil for the hair. Sam Spade Detective Agency. It's me Effie. Oh, Sam, I've been worried about you. Said Wyse was just on the phone and he said, "Beating up a corpse without a permit is against the law." It's all right, Effie. I just dug him up to say hello and put him back again. Oh! I'll be down in a couple of minutes to dictate my report, sweetheart. If I get lost on the way, you'll find me in City Hospital, the Psycho Ward, third straight jacket from the left. National Hammers, America's leading detective fiction writer and creator of Sam Spade, the hard-boiled private eye, and William Spear, radio's outstanding producer/director of mystery and crime drama, join their talents to make your hair stand on end with the adventures of Sam Spade, presented each week by Wild Rude Creme Oil, the non-alcoholic hair tonic that will put your hair back in place again, grooming it neatly, naturally, the way you want it. Fellows, if a girl can spend half an hour under a hot dryer and a beauty parlor to look her best for you, certainly you can spend half a minute sprucing up with Wild Rude Creme Oil hair tonic to look your best for her. That's all it takes, and Wild Rude Creme Oil grooms your hair neatly and naturally, the way girls like to see it. Besides, it relieves dryness and removes loose dandruff. There's not a drop of alcohol in Wild Rude Creme Oil, it contains lanolin, so yet the big economy-sized bottle at your drug or toilet goods counter. And now, Wild Rude brings to the air the greatest private detective of them all, in the adventures of San Spain. Date August 2, 1946, to Mrs. Gregory Deneuve, subject, death of Dr. Deneuve. I was sitting in my office with nothing to think about except the horse-maimed course for a junior, my secretary, F.E. Pareen, came in and said there was someone outside. I didn't look up from the dope sheet, so she said it again. Someone outside, Sam. What's he looked like? Blue double-breasted custom-made suit, count of mouth high, hand-tailed shirt in the shoes, hand-cream, van-dyed. Give me a blank check, and sentiment. Okay, Sam. Please come in. Mr. Fade, we'll see you now, say. Thank you. You, Mr. Spade, Sam Spade. What can I do for you? I'm Dr. Gregory Deneuve, a psychoanalyst. I need your help there. Lie down, doctor, and tell me all about it. I see you might also be noted for your sense of humor as well as your discretion. Who told you I was discreet? A man named Nickolitis. Well, you tell Nickolitis I think he's cute, too. What else does he say about me? But I can trust you with $10,000. Is this Mr. Nickolitis one of your patients? No. No, he isn't. As a matter of fact, he's gotten possession of some private records of mine, while it's rather involved. Nickolitis is shaking you down, and he picked me as a middle man, is that it? This is not an ordinary case of black mail. Black mail is black mail, even if you do it in technicality. Well, as you may know, a psychoanalyst keeps a faithful transcript, a detailed record of everything a patient says during consultation, no matter how intimate or shocking. This man, Nickolitis, has managed to gain possession of a copy of one of his case histories. The patient is a very celebrated person, and should this material be divulged, you may have very serious consequences of both my patient and for me. Doctor, you're best bets the San Francisco Police Department. No, no, that's out of the question. And I'm afraid I can't help you. Why not, Nickolitis, San Francisco? I'm a private detective. When I take on a client, I take on his troubles. My job is to protect him, not to stand by and see him milked. If you want to hire me on that basis, I'll listen. I'm so tired, I must trust somebody. What can you do for me, Mr. State? Write me out a check for a thousand dollars. Get a pen? Yeah. All right. You see, Nickolitis figures that if I'm getting a cut, I'll have to keep my mouth shut. I'll spend it all the same. There you are. Thanks. Now, uh, what was the last thing Nickolitis told you? That he would pick up the ten thousand dollars here and deliver to you this file and question. And you raise him? Yes. Call him. Tell him I won't do that kind of business in my office. Tell him to come to your house. I'll be there. But if you refuse, he won't. Tell him I have the whole ten thousand. What time? How about an hour? No, no. I'm sorry. We'll have to make it around three or... Oh, goodness. I'm late now. I really... That's a beautiful watch, Mr. Denner. Yes. Foreign? Yes. Can I say it? My watch? Well, really, Mr. Spade. I'm very late. I have so many things to do and I have to be a majestic theater well before the matinees. That's a 230. Are you going to say me at three o'clock, are you going to the theater? Oh, I'm not going to stay for the performance. Well, Mr. Spade, till three o'clock then. Oh, my office is in my apartment. The address is here in my car. It's the penthouse. Hey, Lars, huh? OK, doctor, I'll come formal. I'll wear the top to my bathing suit. I left my office around two-thirty and started walking up Knob Hill. The Versailles apartment, where Knob's place was, took up the whole 300 blocks so I didn't have any trouble finding it. I stopped across the street for a minute to get my breath after the uphill climb, mopped my face and started across, just as I got to the middle of the street. The crowd was packed in so close around I couldn't see who'd done the protein but I had a pretty good idea. The cops at the sidewalk wrote talk and guards posted at the building entrance. It took me many 20 minutes to elbow my way through and show my credentials, sizing the vein at the front door so they let me in, lieutenant Dundee of homicide, met me at the door of the penthouse. Hiya, Sam. What do you want? I want to see Dr. Tenog. The doctors did. Dead? Yeah. He's my client. They can't do this to me. How? Did it brody out the window? What are you here for? To see his wife. OK, with you? Why not? She's inside. I'm not. I'm in the panel of police. Before you respect for your grief, I must have the keys to the cabinet where Gregory kept his confidential files. You realize that you wish me to take charge of his patients and that I am responsible. All this police and so on, we must get those files out of here as soon as possible. Yes? My name is Spade. I am Dr. Zoya. I was poor Dr. Deno's oldest friend, but there's anything else. I'd like to see you, Mrs. Deno, hold on. But you police have already asked her so many questions. You see, she's not in the city. I'm not with the police. I'm a private detective. I was working for Dr. Deno. A private detective. You want in trouble, you see? You see, Dr. Zoya. The police won't believe me. Mr. Spade, you'll tell them. You'll tell them he didn't commit to your son. Oh, Mrs. Deno, I guess that takes care of everything here. It's clearly suicide. Oh, idiot. I'm stupid idiot. Tell us what. I have been treated suicide. Do you remember? Oh, please. It will be all right, my dear. I'm sorry. She's hysterical. Yeah. If I had the time. I would tell them. Please, Mrs. Deno. The undertaker has been arranged for a burial, except my clock. Be Israel's cemetery. Now, please, the key to Gregory's fire. Here, take it and go. Go ahead, all of you. Okay. We'll recall you now. I'm so sorry, gentlemen. This is stereo. It's simple. From manly condition. Did my only happen to die. Who can I turn to? Who'll help me? You think it's pleasant? You think my husband would rest if he said I committed to you? Did she decide? What shall I do? What shall I do? What shall I do? What shall I do? Oh. Oh, you. Dr. Sawyer didn't have the time, neither have I. Do you think it's murder? Who do you think kills you, Haslam? To name someone? It's a very serious charge, Mr. Speed. Goodbye, Mrs. Deno. Constance Brent. You mean Constance Brent, the actress? Yes. She was his last patient this morning. She had threatened to kill him before. How do you know? My husband said so. Do you? He had written it down on his notes on her case once before. She'd almost pushed him from that same winter. I'll buy she a husband and Miss Brent. Oh, I knew she was falling in love with my husband. That always happened. They call her the transference. But in this-- Your husband told me Miss Brent was acting in a play this afternoon over at the Majestic. Yes, mid-summonized dream, but she was here. I know she was here. Miss Ray, the receptionist, was coming back from lunch when she heard voices arguing inside. She was sure it was Miss Brent's voice. Tell me the doctor's case history on Miss Brent. I can't. It's missing. As soon as it happened, I went to the files I meant to show it to the police. Who could have taken it? Constance Brent was the last one in that room before he died. Yeah. Why don't you say Nick O'Lion is last? Nick, who? Skippet. Oh, where can I reach you in case? For the next couple of hours, I'll be at the Majestic Theatre. I want to see how good an actress this Constance Brent is. There was tons we will make on ends there, huh? Helped a pot of iron coal, sold good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, Robin shall restore our men. Yes? This Constance Brent's blessing room. What do you want? I want to talk to Miss Brent, or you can talk to me as a husband. So you're Mr. Brent. I'm Jonathan Wallace. She's Mrs. Wallace. And what do you want with my wife? I've come to tell her that Dr. Dennard is dead. Are you sure? You try falling from the 12th floor window sometime. Well, that's the best news I've heard this year. In the fate of their shop for Constance. Maybe, maybe not. She was the last person to see him alive as far as anybody can make up. Are you from the police? No. I'm from the insurance company, claims investigation. What do you want to see Constance for? The policy wasn't made out to her, was it? No, made out to his widow, but she can't collect. Police say it was suicide. Oh, that's settled. This is the last time I take a penny off. Stand around while Constance talks his head off. Who is this person? Darling, I'm afraid this is going to be a shop. This man is from an insurance company. Dr. Dennard is dead. Oh, what a pity. What happened? The police say jumped his wife as he was pushed. She also says that you, Miss Brent, might have been the push of her. Oh, now really it's too sad. How like a wife. What time did you play, start this afternoon, Miss Brent? Not in '02, says he always, always. And the late and amended Dr. Dennard jumped his three o'clock. I didn't say he did. Doesn't this nose shock you? But of course. Do you think good psychologists are easy to find? Looks like your next doctor. You'll have to start from scratch. Your case history seems to be missing from Dr. Dennard's files, missing. No. What is it? As a man named Nicolitis, been in touch with you? I've never heard of him. Chances are you will. Does he have Dr. Dennard's nose no time like his? Good day. This is quite hot. Hot reading, huh? You seem to know this person, Nicolitis. Get that file for me and I'll pay you well for it. Just a minute, my lovely to town, you know. We don't know who this man really is. You might even be Nicolitis himself, but we see your company credentials. Now, what do you know? Somebody picked my pocket. My wallet's gone. I thought so. All right. You tell me who you are. I'll call the police. Oh, no, no Jonathan. No, please. Let's get off the merry ground. My name is Spade. You'll find me in the phone book under S. My office is open until six o'clock and if the man answers don't hang up, it'll be me. Hello, I think. You found a Nicolitis yet? Not one. I even tried selling it backwards. Nobody ever heard of a man named Nicolitis. You're getting to think there ain't no such person. That's me. Do I hear my name, mince, and I'm Nicolitis. Sam, I still think you're right. Come all the way in, Mr. Nicolitis. Sit down. Thank you. If you need me, Sam, just scream. What can I do for you? Oh, I've come for my money. What money? For the $10,000, you remember the $10,000. Refresh my memory. Oh, Dr. Demos, the gentleman who visited you this morning. Oh, that $10,000. Oh, you see, you see, you remember now. Yeah, yeah. He comes back to me now. You were supposed to deliver something for the money. I think Dr. Demos is dead, that is no wrong or important. You will give me the money, please, and I will not disturb your afternoon any further. Suppose I refuse. Well, that would grieve me in my grief, that is not telling me what I might do. Dr. Demos, Deb, there's nothing more you can do to hurt him. Never would I attempt to hurt poor Dr. Demos, but in my sorrow, it would be so great if I should be forced to hurt the woman he was. After all, as Titania says, these are the forgeries of jealousy. Titania? Ah, yes. Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 1, scene 18. I'm a little rusty on my Shakespeare. You are indeed Mr. Spade, Titania doesn't appear until well into Act 2. She doesn't, huh? Yeah. Yeah, that's right. Yeah. I guess she isn't on for forty minutes or so. Yes, indeed, Mr. Spade, but I didn't come here to discuss drama. What else you got to discuss? When Dr. Dennell died, your mark had died well in. It is very un-progressive you, Mr. Spade. There's always a gentleman named Janus Nawad. Why you fiend. You don't mean you sell it both of us. Mr. Spade, how can you have such a low opinion of me? I will prove my integrity, I will give you the material, you give me the money. Hand it over. In the vent, Mr. Spade, we have a saying. He who goes too close to the bay, soon loses his beard. I have left my beard at home. Okay. I'll meet you anywhere you say, anytime you say. Excellent. Seven in your apartment, huh? Won't that be walking into the bears cave? In the vent, Mr. Spade, we have a saying. Private dicks do not kill people in their own apartment. At present six p.m., I called every for messages. He told me that you've been fawning frantically, Mr. Stanaw. I still have maybe 30 minutes before Nickleitis was still at my apartment, so I've brazed on up to your place on the hill. We had a very interesting chat to remember, Mr. Stanaw. Looking back on it, that was probably the most interesting conversation we had. Funny, I can't remember much of anything you said, but it was so cozy there in your place. And what would your clock be, about 20 minutes slow, it must have been something like that past seven before I left you. I grabbed the cab and sold a hacky to step on it. I hope Nickleitis was still waiting at my apartment. He was. Mr. Nickleitis, I'm sorry to be late. He was lying on my bathroom floor. The little guy was looking just about as naughty as when he'd been in my office except that the beautiful silk scarf he'd been wearing was twisted into a tight noose around his neck. Mr. Nickleitis was a very dead black nailer. The makers of Wildroot Cream Oil are presenting the fourth in a new series of programs bringing to the air for the first time the adventures of Dachshal Hammett's famous private detective Sam Spade. Men at the racetrack, the man who has something better than a mere hunch, is said to have it straight from the horse. Of course, that's a humorous expression, but it shows how to get facts, goes straight to the real source of information. And that's why we went straight to hundreds of men in Metropolitan New York to find out what men really want in a hair tonic. And their answers show that Wildroot Cream Oil has all five advantages chosen by this impartial consumer jury of men. One, Wildroot Cream Oil grooms your hair neatly and naturally, never leaves it sticky or greasy. Two, Wildroot Cream Oil relieves annoying dryness. Three, it removes loose dandruff. Four, it's non-alcoholic, and five, it contains soothing lenneland. Remember, no other leading hair tonic gives you all five of these important advantages. Is it any wonder that four out of five users in a nationwide test preferred Wildroot Cream Oil to all other hair tonics they'd tried? So next time you visit your barber, ask for Wildroot Cream Oil, and get the big economy-sized bottle of Wildroot Cream Oil at your drug or toilet goods counter. And now, back to Sam and Psyche, tonight's adventure with Sam Spades. His eyes were open and he seemed to be looking right at me as I bent over them. The finger marshmallows broke with two blotchy to be of any use. Pretty soon, Lieutenant Dundee and Sergeant Polhaus came in and walked over behind me. We all stood there for a second, and Polhaus bent down and closed those eyes. You know what I'm saying? His name is Nikolitis, that's all I know about him. How did he come here to your place for? I don't know. You invited him? I wouldn't have been surprised to find him here, but not like this. Your boys got a smear on him yet? Sure, he's an old customer of mine, runs a photo lab, photo stats, microfilm, microfilm. Nobody makes any sense, they're all screwball, psychos, neurotics. What am I doing in the middle of this anyway? Sam, don't scream at us, we're just doing a job. Oh, I'm sorry, boys, as Dr. Dennel was my client. A little expert, then Dennel probably had a screw loose somewhere, and he had a psychoanalyst himself. Say, maybe he was-- Yeah. Yeah. Hey, look, Dundee, I'm going out of here now. Do I call Sid Weiss and we go through all that again, are you going to let me walk? Oh, I'm Sam. You can go. I don't know where you sleep. I'll wake you when I'm ready for you. Well, Mr. Speed. I want some answers, Dr. Sawyer, and you're the guy who can give him to me. I'm listening. Just let the questions flow into your mind and do not try to repress any of them. Speak instantly, whatever-- Okay, question number one, without thinking. Do you think Dr. Dennel was a suicide? Well, I had not seen Dr. Dennel for many years. He had been my student in Vienna. I was his analyst, in fact. That's all very interesting, Dr. But my question. Yes, yes, did poor Dr. Dennel commit suicide? I have reviewed all the material manifest and hypothetical, and I came to the conclusion, no, no, it was quite impossible. You see these paranoid-- Okay, question number two, was Dr. Dennel in love with Constance Brant? I suppose I can now answer that question. When I arrived in San Francisco, I found him in great distress. He told me he feared he was losing his objectivity towards this patient. In other words, he was in love with it. Yes. You think she might have murdered him? During all psychoanalytical subjects, develop aggressive feelings toward the doctor. Nearly all of my patients have threatened me at one time or another. You don't say? Tell me, Dr. Sawyer, you don't think about Jonathan Wallace, Miss Brant's husband? A violent type, almost psychotic. Yeah? How about you, Dr. Sawyer, could you have done it? That is a most interesting question, Mr. Spade. When I arrived here from Vienna without funds, dependent on the kindness of my former students, I must confess that I felt a certain antagonism. It disturbed me to realize that a man of my standing at the profession should have been dependent on the goodwill of a younger and, I sincerely believe, less gifted man. However, I overcame this, and I didn't kill him. Yeah. Well, Dr. thanks a lot. For instance, Dr. Dennell, he came to me only this afternoon with the strangest requests. He gave me the gold watch, the gold watch which I had presented to him many years ago upon his bradiation in Vienna. He had a patient waiting, and so had not much time to explain. Where is this watch? Please, I am coming to that. He asked me to promise that I would have the watch buried with him if something should happen. That has been done. But Dr. Dennell just died at three o'clock. It is a mosaic law that the disease be buried before sundown. Well, thanks, Dr. Dennell, thanks a lot. I hope I have been not somehow. Dr. Dennell, you will never know how much you have helped me. What was this? Spade. What type? I thought you had got the answers, Mrs. Dennell, that file on Constance Brent. Your husband knew that you had been going through it. Shut up and listen to me. He took it out of the files, had it microfilm for his own private records, and destroyed the originals. Really? The man who did the microfilming was Nikolitis. He delivered one print to your husband and kept another for himself. He was murdered in my apartment for the copy he used to shake down your husband. The killer now has that copy, if it hasn't already been destroyed, but we can still put our hands on the first print of the microfilm which has delivered to your husband. This is astonishing howl. It is in the gold watch which was buried with him. Oh, the watch that Dr. Dennell. Right. Dennell bent up his mind that whatever he knew about Constance Brent was going to go to the grave with him. What are you doing tonight? Nothing. And we got a date, sweetheart. You and I. I'll be back toward the wee hours. All paths lead to the grave. Ophelia, x6. Wait, are these grieves? But shouldn't we get a court order and have it done properly? The courts don't open until ten in the morning, sweetheart, and Lieutenant Dundee is going to start asking me some questions about that stuff in my apartment before then. You see, baby, I can't wait. Mrs. Fade, we shouldn't be doing this. I'm wrong. This time it won't be wasted effort. I'll call him to the grave myself and pull it in after. Here. Just rock it. Give me that co-bar, Mrs. Dennell. Quick. Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Put that flashlight in here, sweetheart. You look the other way. Yeah. Yeah. Here it is. Look. What, Mrs. B? What have you got? The washer. You put the flash on it while I open it. He's my nail farm. Pryle. For back. Nice. That does it. Here's the film. All right, Mrs. Fade. Give me that film. Well, if it isn't the second grave digger from Hamlet, Mr. Constance Brane. How pryling it up to me. You better do as he says, Mrs. Fade. We both got guns. I was expecting that. It took you a long time to get here, Mr. Wallace. How did dear Constance make out his lady Macbeth? Just give me that film. Stop being an idiot, Wallace. The cemetery is crawling with cops. Put that gun away before you drop it and break your foot. Come up out of that grave, Spader. You'll save it forever. Okay, Dundee. All right. All right. Get those hands up, everybody. Go ahead, Dundee. Make the fence. Okay. Sam Spade. I arrest you for buddy snatching violation of graves under the civil court number. No. You fool. You're supposed to arrest Mrs. Gregory. You're going to have a Jonathan Wallace for the murder of Gregory Dennard and Pericles Nick O'Lydus. But I... Oh, yeah. Yeah, I... No, you don't. No, no, no. No, no, no, no. It was smart of you, Mrs. Dennard, to make me late for my appointment with Nick O'Lydus. You did that so that Wallace could nail him in my apartment for the microfilm. You thought she could use that film to pin Dennard's murder on Constance Brent. But after your late husband caught you tampering with his files, he added a few well-chosen words to it so that the film put the finger on you and your boyfriend, Mr. Wallace, in case anything happened to the doctor. So Wallace had to kill Nick O'Lydus. You weren't smart to push your husband out the window. That looked like suicide. You might have gotten away with it, Mrs. Dennard. You could get bashed your husband's head in with a bottle. It reminds me of, he pulled me a drink. That all? Sign it, put a special delivery on it and send it care of the matron to attribute present. Go on. Have one yourself. Oh. Thank you. Here's how. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. You're getting used to it. Good night, Sam. Good night, sweetheart. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. While root cream oil presents the adventures of Sam's fate, D'Aishel Hammers famous private detective produced and directed by William Spear. Then on these warm August days, the sun beats down on your hair, may leave it looking dry and brittle. That's why, now especially, you need wild root cream oil. This grand non-alcoholic hair tonic has just what it takes for summer grooming. It contains lanolin. The soothing oil is so much like the oil of your skin. Wild root cream oil keeps your hair neatly in place, gives it the handsome, successful look that helps you get ahead on the job. And wild root cream oil removes loose ugly dandruff and actually relieves annoying dryness. So tonight, take the famous FN test. Check your scalp. The lines of dryness or loose dandruff tell you, you need wild root cream oil right away. Sam's fate is played by Howard Duff. Fred Esler was Dr. Zoya. Lorraine Tuttle is effy. Don't forget next Friday, the three masters of the art of hair-raising, D'Aishel Hammers William Spear and wild root cream oil join forces to bring you another hair-raising adventure with Sam's fate. Smart girls use wild root cream oil too for quick good grooming and to relieve dryness between permanence. His mothers say it's grand for training children's hair. Dick Joy speaking, this is ABC, the American Broadcasting Company. [music] [silence]