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Well, Bill, what about it?
Got an idea for the lyric yet?
Pray that melody once more to cast.
Think I've got some.
It's about time.
OK, OK, hold it.
How's this?
I won't fall again.
I won't fall again.
Till I meet and hug you.
Hey, that's not bad.
It's never once bad.
Well, that tune of yours sounds like 800 others.
How do you expect me to get any kind of original idea for a lyric?
Give me something to work, Lord Phil.
We've been fighting like this for months.
We haven't written a hit tune yet.
We've got to do something.
You want to break up the team?
I don't want it.
But we both seem to be written out.
Those last songs we did.
Well, if Joe Hendrix wasn't our friend as well as our music publisher, he'd turn them out in the alley.
You'll put together an awful lot of bad lyrics for that group.
So it's my fault, the lyrics were bad.
Because I couldn't save those tired tunes of yours.
It's my fault.
I had to put you right in the nose.
That would be a fine answer to our problem.
Would at least give me some satisfaction.
Dick, I'm warning.
I don't like violence.
But I'm getting to a point where I'm going to forget how much I hate violence.
Remember only how much I dislike you.
And now meet Dick Colmer as Boston Blacky.
Enemy to those who make him an enemy.
Friend to those who have no friend.
Of course I know Joe Hendrix Mary, but I won't know him long if I ask him to publish this song of your cousin.
Oh, well maybe it isn't so bad, Blacky.
Mary, dear Mary, everybody in this country at some time or other has an idea you can write a song.
This happens to be the time that they thought struck your cousin.
It should have been a friendly car.
Oh, Blacky.
Oh.
Okay, he just made a bargain.
You laugh at night, Joe.
I'll take your cousin's song to Joe Hendrix.
Let me have it.
We have to see how it goes so I know what I'm filling in.
Here's the coffee and darling.
When you play it, you'll see other nine fingers, huh?
I'll do better than that.
I've got a pretty bad baritone voice.
I've been holding back the years.
Well, let's see how this epic goes.
Good, huh?
Let me cronely meet the moon.
In the merry month of June.
Well, oh, the one you smile.
If you listen to my tune.
Oh, my mother used to say I should never have taken piano lessons since she was right.
Mary, that song is awful.
It didn't sound too bad.
Oh, we shouldn't just crazy about my voice.
You say the nicest things about you.
Is the song really terrible?
Awful.
That's one of the reasons I'm taking into Joe Hendrix right now.
Wait a minute.
The song is bad and so you're going to take the Mr. Hendrix the music publisher?
Certainly, I forgot to tell you.
I don't like Hendrix.
Wow, call of three hotels.
You'll have to register in one of them.
We've worried that you'll call Joe Hendrix when he checks in.
Right.
And...
Phone, phone, solid time, phone.
Yeah.
Boston, flaky.
Sure, sentiment.
John and Mary.
Hi, John.
Hello, flaky, long time.
No, I see.
This is Joe Hendrix, Mary.
He and Inspector Faraday make the worst jokes on the world.
How are you, Joe?
Well, what can I do for you, Blaky?
I've got a song, Joe.
I'd like you to publish it.
Here.
What's the title?
In a blue canoe with you.
You're kidding with that, aren't you?
Oh, no, Mr. Hendrix.
We're very serious.
My, um, my cousin wrote it.
Your cousin ought to be a very happy character
that he's your cousin, Miss Whistley.
That's fame enough for anybody.
Take this song back, Blaky.
Put it on the floor.
Let it crawl out of here by itself.
Well, don't you even want to hear it?
If I want bad songs, I've got thick ornaments
built rudely under contract.
They've written nothing but bad songs for the past year.
Say, how are the boys?
I haven't seen them quite a while.
Basically, they're fine.
Mentally, they're out of town.
How about, actually?
They're in the piano room down the hall trying the right of songs.
Oh, please, Mr. Hendrix.
Won't you listen to my cousin's number?
Uh, Blaky can play it for you.
How bad is it, Blaky?
I can tell you in one word.
Very.
But I got an idea.
What is it?
It isn't so bad that a professional songwriting team couldn't fix it up.
Would you say old and rudely, won't you?
In the piano room down the hall.
I'm going down to see them.
Maybe they'll do something about your cousin's song, Mary.
I won't be too long.
Bones, bones, bones, all the time.
Bones, excuse me, Mr. Weston.
Oh, Hendrix, be good.
Tell me, boy, won't you get in town?
Tell me, boy.
Well, well.
I've been living in the old trombone.
Sure, it always was the best.
Tell me, I'm glad you called back.
I got a score that's atomic, a musical comedy score.
You know the show, are you with it?
How about doing here?
I go again from it.
It's a terrific tool.
We're sure I listen to your broad guess.
Wouldn't mess them.
Oh, you did the song last night.
Small oil ain't it?
Hey, drop around for lunch tomorrow.
I'll tell me about four o'clock.
I got some new tunes to show you, Tommy.
Take?
Terrific, Tommy.
Thanks for calling, Tommy.
And that was...
I know, Tommy.
This is a very interesting business, Mr. Hendrix.
Oh, oh, right.
There you are.
Did you find it, Carpenter?
Yes, but they were too busy to work on your cousin's song.
Come on, Mary, let's get out of here.
What's your hurry, Blackie?
Sit still.
Hang around a while.
I'll buy lunch.
No, thank you, Mr. Hendrix.
I get hungry long before four o'clock.
A normal girl.
And what are you doing with Blackie?
Thanks, Joe.
And thanks for turning down this tune, pal.
Remind me not to do something for you sometime.
Don't leave. Blackie, listen.
Did you hear the gag?
I think you're right, Blackie.
I think you're better, Lee.
Well, Mr. Hendrix, it was very nice.
Oh, is that?
Sounded like a scream.
And nothing sounds like a scream except a scream.
It can't be that direction.
Come on, Mary, let's get out of here.
All right, but I never knew you'd run away from Joe.
It's below the point.
Honey, what's the matter?
It's his old poor Joe.
It's all right.
It's not part of it.
What is it?
Joe, the other room.
Go look for yourself.
Come on, Blackie.
It's only one other room.
And that's a Vienna room.
Take it, Bill, away from here.
Let's go.
Are you with us, Mary?
Right here, Blackie.
Yeah, this is a Vienna room.
Okay, hold everything, kids.
Holy, Mack.
Stay back, Mary.
Take Corby.
And he's been shot through the heart.
I guess I'd better call the police.
I guess you'd better.
Expect a party like nothing better than a nice clean murder.
And possibly pin on me.
Hey, Blackie.
You were in here only a few minutes ago,
and nothing was alive then.
You said he didn't want to work on it,
so you brought me.
That's right.
Maybe you better stay here, Blackie.
Maybe you couldn't talk to him in the help of you.
Maybe you got tired of shooting off your mouth
and switched to shooting off your gun.
Okay, okay.
Get him already for the line-up, Dickens.
Get the woman out there first.
Okay, Rollins, take this down.
Then take down what she says.
Name Mrs. William Rutley.
Occupation housewife.
Charge suspected homicide.
Well, is Rutley?
What have you got to say?
Nothing.
Nothing I haven't done anything.
Inspector, why don't you get smart?
She found the body, that's all.
That doesn't make her a killer.
Shut up, Frankie.
My run seems down here.
Mrs. Rutley, did you kill Dick Orton?
Your husband's father?
No.
No, I didn't find him.
It's all I know.
Oh, please.
Please let me get some.
Please let me get down from here.
Please let me get some.
Please.
She's made it, Faraday.
Happy now?
When that damn comes to runs, take her in and book a permurder.
I'll be in my office.
You'll be in his office wrong with me.
And beat it, Frankie.
Before I find a reason why you wanted Orton dead.
Oh, I had a reason, Inspector.
A reason, but not a motive.
There's a subtle difference there.
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You wouldn't understand.
Nowadays, Bookness is roughly for Dick Orton's murder, Mary.
But he's too good a cop to stop there.
He'll be out looking for Orton's plot man.
This is what he's husband right now.
Only if we're lucky, we'll find him first.
Oh, Mr. Hendrick said he hangs out in this place.
You see him?
The bartender might be of some help.
Hey, buddy.
Yeah, what do you have?
A little information for now.
Do you know a fellow named Bill Rutley?
I sure he's over in that last booth.
Back there.
Thanks.
Come on, Mary.
Jackie, come bother me.
Something in your shoe or something in your eye?
Something on my mind.
Was Dick Orton alive when you went into the piano room to get him to work on my cousin's?
Good question, Mary.
Well, I need answer that sometime.
Well, here's the last booth and coincidentally.
Here's Bill Rutley.
Hi, Bill.
Huh?
Line advice to Dan?
Hello, Blakey.
This is Mary Wesley, Bill.
Hello.
Hello.
Say, you look low.
Things aren't that tough.
Aren't they?
No.
I think I found a way to get Charlie to release your wife.
Well, thanks, Blakey.
I appreciate that.
Only it doesn't get me out of the mess.
You're in a mess, Mr. Rutley.
That's right.
Dick and I were fighting.
Everybody knows that.
I was just out for a walk and Dick was shot.
I wouldn't worry, Bill.
The fact that you and Dick were quarreling wouldn't hold as a motive for murder.
No.
But the insurance wouldn't.
What insurance?
Partnership insurance.
See, when Dick and I were hard a couple of years ago, we took out partnership insurance.
A hundred thousand dollars.
Woo!
The only business-like thing I ever did in my life.
When that policy is uncovered, I'll be in a spot.
You're in such a spot that the heat is beginning to affect me.
Bill, tell me all you know about Dick.
Well, he was single.
But you know what?
He didn't play around.
But...
Yeah.
Well, the words some talk a while ago about him and Hendrick's wife.
Show him his wife?
Yeah.
I didn't believe it in Dick tonight.
Oh, but that was six months ago.
It couldn't mean anything.
No.
Maybe not.
But it's worth taking crack at.
I've got to get down and get your wife out of jail.
But you've got nothing to worry about if you didn't kill your partner.
And remember, I said, if you didn't kill him.
I don't suppose you want to listen to me, fire name.
Blackie, I don't even want to look at you.
Oh, well, if you don't want me to tell you why Mrs. Rutley...
...couldn't have murdered all of them, I won't.
So dull?
You mean I can't tease you when to ask me to prove that?
Blackie, you couldn't make me carry on asbestos umbrella
but was raining fire.
You're leaving now?
You're a little too smart, Faraday.
You know something.
And there's the remark I never thought I'd make.
Uh, bye, bye, Blackie, bird.
Be seeing you.
Inspector, your holding Mrs. Rutley,
but I checked her arrival at the Hendrick's building
and found that she got in the elevator only a few seconds before
she found Dick Orton's body.
Yes, genius.
Any smart cop would have done the same thing only.
Of course, he wouldn't be any relation of yours.
What I'm trying to tell you is that according to their coroner's report,
the body had been dead at least a half an hour before Mrs. Rutley found it.
Okay, you've told me.
So long, Blackie.
Still the same old Faraday, you won't listen to me.
Sure, I'll listen.
Uh, uh, but it's a little boring.
You see, I checked all the details about the elevator myself this morning.
And Mrs. Rutley isn't free for two hours.
And now back to Boston, Blackie.
Dick Orton, part of a songwriting team of Alton and Rutley, has been murdered.
The body was discovered by Mrs. Rutley,
who promptly was booked for murder by Inspector Faraday,
but later released.
When it was proven that she came into the building only seconds before she found the body,
and that the body had been dead almost a half hour at that time.
Boston, Blackie, has discovered that the songwriting team had a partnership insurance policy,
table to one on the death of the other,
which makes Bill Rutley a suspect.
But he has also uncovered the fact that at one time there was talk concerning the murdered man
and the wife of Joe Hendrix, music publisher.
As we return to our story, Blackie is a Hendrix author.
I can't talk to you now, Blackie, I'm busy.
Don't talk, listen.
Joe, I hear that there was some gossip concerning Dick Orton and your wife about six months ago.
What did you hear that?
What's the difference where? It's true, isn't it?
There was some talk. Sure, that's true.
We ain't ever paid any attention to you.
Hey, you're not thinking.
I don't know why you say that, jealousy is pretty strong motive.
You think I killed Dick Orton for something that happened six months ago if it happened at all, which I doubt?
It could be.
You know, Joe, you're in a fascinating business.
Words and music.
Stay honest and the world dances your songs.
What?
But pull around with murder, Joe, and you'll dance at the end of a rope.
Please connect me with Mr. Lambert.
This isn't spectacular again.
Why are you getting the trouble?
Lambert speaking, I respect you.
Fine, thank you. I don't think so fine.
Anybody cash in there, lately?
Things are fine here, Inspector.
I have the information you wanted on the bank accounts of Dick Orton and Bill Rutley.
Just a second.
Oh wait.
We're getting somewhere now.
We're going somewhere.
It's a jail.
A fair day to find out you.
You're going somewhere.
It's a jail. A fair day to find out you need me.
So you'll brag about it, that's all you do.
Hello, Inspector Faraday.
I'm still here.
A Richard Orton's account has remained around $30,000 for several years.
William and Mary Rutley have a joint account.
It was very large at one time, but it's just a few thousand left now.
The checks have been drawn against every few days for the past month.
Oh, sign the checks and to whom will they made out?
Sorry, I don't have that information at the moment.
If you would care to drop down to the bank, I'd be glad to get the checks we have on hand.
Now I'll do that and thanks very much.
Goodbye.
The result of that call was to find out that Dick Orton had $30,000,
but Mrs. Rutley had the same first name as yours, Mary,
that she and her husband had a joint account,
and that it shrunk considerably in the past month.
Put that all together and it's Bill's...
Murder?
I doubt it.
Come in.
Expecting any more?
Not that I don't want.
What are you doing right here?
Well, Mrs. Rutley, please come in.
I didn't mean to be so happy.
I just need to invite a thank you for your help.
We're going to introduce Mrs. Rutley, glad to drop in.
Mrs. Mary West.
How do you do?
Hello.
Sit down, will you?
Thank you.
Is it correct?
Yes, thank you.
Oh dear, I'm sorry, I have no matches.
I did have a lighter, but I wore out one of the parts, my thumb.
I have my own matches, thank you.
Maybe I can have a find in this bag.
Don't you find that no matter how big a handbag you carry,
it's never large enough to hold what a girl needs.
Certainly do.
Where are you, Wika?
Uncovered one book of matches.
Yeah, I like to figure out Mrs. Rutley.
Let me have him.
There you are.
Thank you.
Blacky, are the police close to finding that murder?
I don't know, Mrs. Rutley.
All I do know is I'm not.
Well, I'm sure you will.
Thank you, Mrs. Rutley.
I'll just sit back and listen.
Why, you tell me how wonderful I really am.
I'd like to, Blacky, but I really did come down just to thank you.
And I have, thanks.
You too.
I guess I'll run along.
Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wesley.
Don't bother, Blacky.
I can get to go on myself.
Goodbye.
Bye.
Goodbye.
She has charm, Blacky.
You have very nice, Mary.
I do not, but just shy.
I'm the observing type.
For instance, I observed that you forgot to give Mrs. Rutley back to her matches.
Hmm.
The real can't say it says I'm a matchbox color.
Ever been to the real?
Nope.
I don't go for that lumbar and damba stuff.
I like to dance in English.
The real is quite a spot.
Dancing hall downstairs, if you know the right people, you get in.
And how Mrs. Rutley got these matches.
I once had a book of matches with an advertisement on the cover,
urging me to buy my hay, seed, and grain a damn four-hour.
Two bottles.
I just let my title get hungry.
The talk is good, but the results are negligible.
Get your coat on, Mary.
We're back for the bank.
To the bank.
Could I just throw in a casual fly?
To withdraw some information and deposit it to the account of an unsolved murder.
Here are the checks inspected fire they just as you asked for.
They're the ones drawn this month on the joint account of William and Mary Rutley.
Thank you, Mrs. Blumming.
You mind of my secretary and I look them over?
I'm not at all inspected. Just call me if you want anything.
Look, Mary.
Except for a few small ones.
All the checks are pretty large amounts.
Mm-hmm.
All made out of cash and signed, Mary Rutley.
Who endorsed them, Dr. C.
Let's see.
I would stone.
I would stone.
I would stone.
And Edward Stone endorsed them all.
Well, no, we don't mean anything till we find out who Edward Stone is.
We can only find a fun book.
Yes, we can.
Right after.
Right after what?
Right after we try the Leo Club.
Maybe we'll find that they haven't Edward Stone there.
It's worth a try anyhow.
Come on, the phone booth is over here.
Now, just wait here while I phone the Leo Club.
Let's see if the numbers shouldn't be in this matchbox.
Oh, yes, here it is.
Circle 9, 7800.
Keep your fingers crossed.
Good afternoon, Leo Club.
Eddie Stone, please.
It's a stone just a moment.
Go ahead, please.
Hello, Stone.
Yes, Stone speaking.
This is Mr. Fleming at the 12th National Bank.
You endorsed several checks made out by Mrs. Mary Rutley.
Sure.
Saturday marks.
No, they're good.
I just wanted to verify your signature.
It's final, right?
I don't write so good.
I'm just learning.
I see.
Oh, Mr. Stone.
If I wanted to come to the Leo Club, could you see to it
that I was allowed downstairs?
You know about the downstairs?
Yeah, a friend of mine told me about it.
Bill Rutley.
He's never been here.
He's part of the guy who got bumped yesterday.
He started coming here about a month ago.
It pretty well, too.
Well, I couldn't very well get him to take me to the club.
Good, I am.
No, I just not.
Hey, Mr. Fleming, I don't see no harm in you coming down here.
You don't even have a friend just that for me.
Oh, thank you, Mr. Stone.
Thank you very, very much.
Goodbye.
Good work, Mary.
Good.
Now I'm going to get Faraday on the wire and ask him to have Hendricks and Mrs. Rutley
and Hendricks office in half an hour.
All right, Blackie.
I got Joe Hendricks and Mr. Mrs. Bill Rutley inside in Hendricks office just as you asked.
Now, don't you think it's about time you told me why I did it?
You did it, Faraday, because you have great confidence in implicit faith in me.
And because I'm a little bit dumb.
Half the time I listen to you, I got kicked myself after.
But the other half of the time you patch yourself on the bat.
Well, this is one of the kicking times I can feel it.
Now, we're one of those three doing inside.
One of them murdered Dick Alden.
Well, take a deep breath.
Here we go.
Hello, everybody.
Hello, Wendy.
Take a seat, Faraday.
Go ahead, sit down.
What's the idea of this, Blackie?
And I'm trying to run a business here.
I'm trying to run down a murderer.
That's more important.
You're looking at me, Blackie.
Possibly.
But Bill, you were the lyric writer in the Orton Rutley team, weren't you?
That's right.
I just wanted to make sure.
Are you comfortable, Mrs. Rutley?
Yes, thank you.
Very.
Oh, now that we're all here, I've got to confess something.
Yesterday morning, I left Hendricks and Mary in this office.
Went into a piano room where I found the murdered body of Dick Alden.
And I picked up a piece of music manuscript paper that was lying on the floor near the body.
Dick was putting a tune down on paper when I left.
Dick was working on that music when his killer walked in.
Dick one look and feverishly wrote down five notes at the bottom of the manuscript page.
Here's the manuscript paper, and I'm going to play you the five notes right now.
All right, you use your piano drum?
Well, all right, go ahead.
Thanks.
Now, here are the five notes.
That's all.
There's those five notes.
Anybody recognize the tune?
It's nothing to me, Blacky.
That's because there are no harmonies.
Let's do it now.
Hey, that's George M. Cohen's Mary.
What's that got to do with this?
Everything.
The first line of the lyric, the one that matches these notes, is because it was Mary.
Dick Alden named his murderer just before he was shot.
Mary Rutley, you killed Dick Alden.
Do you have a Faraday?
Don't let it go out that door.
All right, let's go.
I had to do it.
I said I had to.
Well, that's a fitting climax in the music publishing office.
I supply the woods and music and a murderous decides to sing.
What don't you understand Faraday is that word news.
Why Mrs. Rutley killed her husband's partner?
Anybody knows the answer to that inspector?
Sure.
Anybody but me?
Do you know him as well as we?
I think so.
Dick Alden had seen Mrs. Rutley gambling at the real fund.
He threatened to tell her husband that she didn't stop.
But she couldn't stop.
She had to try to win enough money to put back in the joint account that she'd been doing.
Touchdown for Mary Wesley.
Thank you, sir.
Mrs. Rutley killed Alden because she knew he would expose her.
What about her killing into the building and the elevator, Blacky?
You checked the time.
She simply used the stairs the first time when she shot Alden and left the building
and then came back a half an hour later using the elevator, where she could be seen.
You were such a genius, Blacky.
When you had a clue like that music thing in your pocket all the time.
It practically told you that Mary Rutley murdered Alden.
You did have gotten the same way I did Faraday, but it's yourself.
That's what I did.
Huh?
I knew my facts were right, but I couldn't prove any of them.
So I had to pretend that Dick Alden had named his killer and the hope of getting her to make a break.
Yes, she did.
Well, aren't you going to congratulate me?
What for? You're getting married?
No, I'm solving this case for you, Faraday.
You solved it for me.
You solved it for yourself so you could write all over me next time.
You know, Blacky, I've got half a mind.
Hold it right there, Inspector.
Right where?
Right where you were.
You said I've got half a mind and you know something, Inspector.
That's the first time you've been right in years.
Oh!
Oh!
Oh!
Tyler Reddick here from 2311 Racing.
Another checkered flag for the books.
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