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The Panama Hat - Philip Marlowe | 10/10/1948 (Ep03)

The Adventures of Philip Marlowe was a radio series featuring Raymond Chandler as Philip Marlowe. He was a gritty, no nonsense American, hard-boiled detective; however, he was more complex than other hard-boiled detectives of the era. "Hard-boiled" refers to a gritter urban element to the detective genre. Marlowe could handle a gun and take a beating, but he was also college educated. He played chess and appreciated classical music. He had standards too, and he turned down jobs that didn't measure up to those standards.

Hope you enjoy this episode of The Adventures of Philip Marlowe! Find more classic radio series at theaterofthemind-otr.com - Audio Credit: The Old Time Radio Researchers Group. - All Podcasts @ Spreaker | Apple | YouTube | Spotify | iHeart | Amazon

Speaker 1: Sounded good, real good. A weekend at Melibu, expenses paid

with a cash bonus thrown in. That was before I

knew about the henchman, the Redhead, and the corpse. These

three in the white Panama Hat ruined it all for me.

Speaker 2: From the pan of Raymond Chandler, outstanding author of crime fiction,

comes his most famous character as CBS presents.

Speaker 3: The Adventures of Philip Marlowe.

Speaker 2: And now with Gerald Moore starred as Philip Marlowe, we

bring you tonight's unusual story, the Panama Hat.

Speaker 1: I was sitting in my office, bombing the ashtray on

my desk with paper clips, wondering what kind of a

job a private detective gets. When clients stopped calling completely,

I was sea sawing between the picture of me as

a well starched huckster in the more comfortable portrait of

marlow author in English tweets man of distinction, and the

telephone brought me to a rude awakening Malo speaking.

Speaker 4: My name is Isabel Gordon. Mister marlow I must see

you at once. My husband Bruce is in terrible danger.

Could you possibly meet me in an hour at the

Pelican Inn. It's a small roadside place on the way

to Malibu.

Speaker 1: I'll explain everything then Pelican in one hour, Missus Gordon.

The Pelican in was strictly a lick a license, with

chairs and a board piano player in one corner, grinding away.

The place was empty, and I was about to order

a drink when the front door opened and a woman entered.

She was tall and thin and right out of Harper's Bazaar,

from double app ankle, strapped shoes to close, cropped hair.

One look at her fear crowded eyes and I knew

it was Isabelle Gordon. I got up and introduced myself.

Then we went to a table when she started to talk.

Speaker 5: For two weeks now, mister Marlowe, my husband Bruce has

been receiving unsigned threatening letters. I'm almost sick with worry.

Speaker 6: I don't know what to do.

Speaker 1: Wait a minute, Missus Gordan. The first thing to do

is to get hold of yourself and tell me the

whole thing right from the beginning.

Speaker 5: Yes, all right, Well, first of all, Bruce and I

have only been married a little more than a year.

We're living with my uncle Avery fair Child, on an

estate out beyond Malibu.

Speaker 1: I see, what does your husband do for a living, missus.

Speaker 5: Why he's a photographer, we'll via commercial. Well, at present,

it's neither. You see, Bruce has been terribly unsettled since

the war lost sort of a Then recently he got

interested in photography and it's been a great help to.

Speaker 1: Him, but he doesn't exactly work at it.

Speaker 5: Well, he's converted one of the rooms in the guest

cottage into a studio and he spends almost all his

time there experimenting with portrait work, but he doesn't actually

have a job.

Speaker 1: If that's what you mean, how does that appeal to

your uncle Avery.

Speaker 5: I'll be honest with you, mister Marlowe. My uncle thinks

the sun rises and sets on me, but.

Speaker 1: With Bruce's total eclipses ed it.

Speaker 3: I'm afraid.

Speaker 5: So all his life, Uncle Avery has been concerned only

with dollars and cents. He simply doesn't understand or sympathize

with an artist viewpoint.

Speaker 1: Now, what about these unsigned letters, Well.

Speaker 5: Bruce has been getting them for the past two weeks.

They are always made up of words cut from newspapers

and paste it on ordinary paper.

Speaker 1: That's a cheap stunt. What do they say?

Speaker 5: Each one threatens my husband's life? Yet both he and

Uncle Avery consider them nothing more than the work of

some harmless crank, in spite of the fact that for

the last several days I've seen a strange man lurking

around our place every night.

Speaker 1: Can you describe them?

Speaker 3: No?

Speaker 5: No, except what he's about your height and bill?

Speaker 1: Is that all?

Speaker 3: Yes? No?

Speaker 5: I wait a minute, there is something else. Each time

I saw mister Marlow, he was wearing a white panama.

Speaker 1: There's not much to go on. Tell me, why haven't

you called the police?

Speaker 5: Uncle Avery wouldn't hear of it. He hates publicity, dreads it.

That's why I suggested contacting you a private detective.

Speaker 1: It's sort of a bodyguard for Bruce.

Speaker 4: Uh.

Speaker 5: Yes, However, mister Marl Bruce is somewhat temperamental, and I

know he'd bell at the thought of being watched over.

So I'd rather posed as a house guest, an old

colleague chum of mine.

Speaker 1: Perhaps my fee is twenty five a day plus expenses,

missus Gordon Honey.

Speaker 5: Price is all right, mister Marlow. Let's see, it's a

little after seven now. Can you be at our place

at Malibu at nine?

Speaker 1: I think so? That is a fellow alumnus Isabelle one

last question? Where'd you go to college?

Speaker 5: Southern California?

Speaker 1: Why? But I was afraid you might say Vesser. After

Isabella left, her remembered that I was already on my

expense account. So I had a tasteless, cold hot blue

plate special and a burden cup of coffee, and I

stepped out of the Pelican Inn and headed across the

paved parking lot to my car. Was already dark, and

I was admiring the full moon and the beautiful wash

it made over the ocean when it happened.

Speaker 3: You are right, mister, Yeah.

Speaker 1: Yeah, I think so. Thanks to your sounding off, that

was aiming right for you. Yeah yeah, it looks that way.

Did you happen to get his number?

Speaker 3: No?

Speaker 1: What about my face? Can you describe him?

Speaker 6: No? Matter of fact, I only noticed one thing.

Speaker 1: What was that the hattie was wearing?

Speaker 6: It was a white panama.

Speaker 1: I tried to be broad minded, but there was no

other way to look at it. The gentleman in the

white panama had definitely meant business. I returned to my

apartment in Hollywood, where I shaved, showered, and packed, and

I headed for Malibu at a quarter to nine. I

was inside the grounds of the fair Child of estate

another mile and I was at the front door. When

I entered, Isabelle greeted me like I was a keg

of brandy around the Saint Bernard's neck. Then we waded

through an inch thick copper to the library, where Uncle Avery,

fat bald and looking like he'd just bitten into an

underwrite per Simon was waiting. I wasn't asked to sit down,

and I was not for the cigar. Avery Fairchild was

not one to waste time.

Speaker 6: I am a very rich man, mister Mallow as such,

on the target for all kinds of fortune hunters, confidencemen

in crank In my lifetime, I've been threatened and pestured

by a score at crackpots, each one slightly more psychopathic

than the last. It's never bothered me and it never will. However,

in this case the approach is a bit different.

Speaker 1: Meaning you think somebody's trying to get you through your nephew.

Speaker 6: Uh, never refer to him as my nephew, my niece's husband,

if you please, and don't forget it, Uncle Avery, isabel

My feelings about your husband are no secret.

Speaker 5: You're being unfair on Clavery just because Bruce is an artist,

and an artist is he?

Speaker 6: Hi, Isabelle, That man's no more an artist than I am.

A horse shot.

Speaker 7: Hello, Bruce, Hello Darling, you were saying something, Uncle Avery.

Speaker 5: Bruce, I want you to meet Philip Marlowe. We were

great friends at school, and when I heard he was

in town for a while, I insisted that he spend

a weekend with us.

Speaker 1: How are you doing, mister Gordon.

Speaker 3: It's a pleasure to have you with us. Mister Mila,

You're very welcome.

Speaker 6: I do the welcoming around here, Bruce.

Speaker 5: Mister Marlow's had a long trip and I'm certain he'd

like to turn in early, Bruce, Darling, he's going to

stay in the guest cottage of the room next to

your studio. Will you show him there please?

Speaker 7: Or I'll be glad to By the way, Isabella, I'm

going to work late, so I'll say good night to

you now.

Speaker 5: Good night, dearest night sweet Please Please be careful.

Speaker 3: Yes, Bruce, by all means, be careful.

Speaker 6: Remember the true artist belongs to posterity or something.

Speaker 1: The guest cottage was only a landscape, hop, skip and

a jump from the museum that Uncle Avery called home,

and as Bruce and I strolled along a flagstone path,

I'd feigned a deep interest in photography. That was all

my hosts needed. He struck at the bait like a

shark with a malnutrition.

Speaker 7: Well, mister Miloh, it didn't even occur to me that

photography might be one of your hobbies.

Speaker 3: Isabelle never said a word.

Speaker 1: Good for Isabelle, I'm strictly a dabbler. And tell me,

mister Gordon, how long have you been at.

Speaker 3: This portrait work? For about six months? You see.

Speaker 7: I divide my time between my studio here and a

school I attend in Hollywood. That way, I capture both

the theory and practical experience at the same time.

Speaker 1: Well, here we are.

Speaker 3: Would you like to see the studio?

Speaker 1: Yes?

Speaker 3: I would, Yeah, I'll be get the lights.

Speaker 1: Wow, this is all right, eh? And larger two cameras

dark room. These are your pictures?

Speaker 3: Yes, what do you think of them?

Speaker 1: I don't know exactly. They're certainly different.

Speaker 7: They are unusual out there, you see, Milo, Each picture

is actually made up of two separate studies which are superimposed.

Speaker 3: I call it interpretive photography.

Speaker 1: Now, this one a splash of light and the bent

pipe cleaner.

Speaker 7: The sun and the plant shoot. It's called metamorphosis.

Speaker 1: Oh what about that when they're in the corner, the

girl's face and clouds.

Speaker 7: Mister Milo, you'll excuse me, but that picture isn't ready

for display.

Speaker 1: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I thought it

was just another interpretive photograph.

Speaker 3: That is, it isn't finished yet.

Speaker 7: Now, mister Morlow, I'm afraid I've forgotten what my wife

said about your long trip.

Speaker 3: Shall I show you to your room?

Speaker 1: Yes, please do, mister Gordon. My room on the other

side of the guest cottage was wider than Hollywood Boulevard.

After Bruce apologized for his display of temperament and bid

me a polite good night, I climbed into the silk

pajamas that were laid out for me, stretched out on

the bed, and tried to figure who belonged to the

white panama hat. About an hour passed and I wasn't

getting any sensible answers, so I switched out the light,

put my gun on the table next to me, and

snuggled into what felt like a mile and a half

of mattress. I was almost asleep, and the clatter of

a shovel falling on the walk outside brought me straight

up in bed. I grabbed my gun and made for

the door. For a second, I threw it open. I

knew that I'd made a mistake. Whoever kicked over that shovel,

it hurt me and met me with a large fist

that came straight my face.

Speaker 6: Oh.

Speaker 1: As I came back into the world, I was embarrassed

to find myself alone and flat on my back. When

I started to get up, I felt like the la

down was water boy and all and run over my face.

My gun was a few feet away, and when I

went to pick it up, I stopped short. There was

a souvenir and a man with a great, big fist

a gold cigarette lighter that was engraved to skip her

on his birthday. Putting it in my pocket, I picked

up my gun and made for Bruce's studio. He wasn't there.

I threw on some clothes and went back to the

house and found Isabelle in the living room. I was

about to give her a bias to account of the

shortest fight on record, when I noticed Uncle Avery quietly

entering the house from a side door that led to

the garden.

Speaker 3: What's the matter.

Speaker 1: Feel Bruce isn't in a studio anymore.

Speaker 6: Now, Isabelle. There's no reason for a life. My Bruce

often goes off into the night like this, How died

as such for beauty or some such rat?

Speaker 1: And what was it you were after? Just now outside,

mister Fairchild, I was.

Speaker 6: Looking for my niece Marlowe, Isabelle. The cousin John telephoned

to say he wouldn't be down this weekend.

Speaker 1: I didn't know there were to be other guests.

Speaker 5: Oh, just my cousin John martin Field, not really a guest.

Speaker 6: He comes down often, too often to suit me, Uncle.

Speaker 5: Avery, Please you know that I'm fond of him.

Speaker 6: Yes, but I don't know why. He's a chronic gambler

and of no use to anyone living at the Wiltshire

Gardens when he can't afford it driving expensive car.

Speaker 5: You're too hard on him? Yes, do you know him?

Speaker 1: No? No, no, I don't.

Speaker 6: Well, you're not missing anything.

Speaker 1: Believe me. Oh I do believe you're, mister Fairchild. I

believe you're every word. What good night? Or I left

the house and headed straight form my car with the

Wiltshire Gardens in Hollywood and mine it was just a

chance that John Skipper Martin might own a white Panama hat.

I got to the prodigal cousin's bungalow. It was dark inside,

so I pressed one hand close to my gun and

the other against the door, though, but there was no answer.

A side window was open, and I started toward it

when a nasty voice greeted me from the shadow of

a palm tree.

Speaker 3: Good evening, lovely night, isn't it.

Speaker 1: I hadn't noticed. I've been busy.

Speaker 8: I know we've been waiting for you for a long time.

We uh me and my nice shiny revolver here eight.

Speaker 1: I see all. You make a handsome couple, and I

hope you're both very happy together. Now, what do you want?

Speaker 8: I don't want anything. I'm here to give you something, advice, most.

Speaker 1: Brother, I've already told you I'm busy, So if this

is a heist, let's get it over with fast.

Speaker 3: You know, I think you're confused.

Speaker 8: I'm holding the gun, mister Martin Martin, John Skiper Martin,

surprised that I know your name?

Speaker 1: Why? Yes, yes I am. I don't recall he had

the pleasure you haven't. People Never forget me, mister Martin.

My tag is Brock. Does that mean anything?

Speaker 3: No?

Speaker 1: What do you do? Sing? Dance? Tell jokes? Yeah, that's it.

Speaker 3: The last one I tell you.

Speaker 1: I can't wait. You won't have to, mister Martin.

Speaker 3: I'm gonna tell you one right now. Goes like this.

Speaker 8: Once upon a time, a young punk borrowed ten thousand

dollars from a generous gambler on his promise to pay

the money back within a week, but the young punk

never came across. So the gambler told a nice fellow

named Brock to call on the young punk and tell

him that he had forty eight hours in which to

get the money together, and that if he didn't, he'd

never see the forty ninth hour.

Speaker 1: What's the matter, mister Martin?

Speaker 3: Don't you like jokes?

Speaker 1: Rock? Gryn shall this thirty eight into a shoulder holster

and walked away. As he rounded the corner, I went

to the open window and climbed in. I rummaged through

two closets looking for a white panama you know what.

I was about to search a third when I heard

something that brought me to a dead stop. It was

a key in the front door lock. He closed my

right hand over the gun in my pocket, moved flush

against the sidewall and waited. At the moment the door

swung open, the telephone rang, and the hulk of a

man that entered went straight for it. He was wearing

a gray fedora. Hello. Oh, hello, Isabelle. What Bruce? All right?

Speaker 3: Are you sure? But that's impossibly I mean things like that.

Speaker 1: Just excuse me as a bale. I think I have

a visitor.

Speaker 3: I'll call you back, reach mister Martin. Who are you?

Speaker 1: Her name is Brock. You owe a client of mine

ten thousand dollars. He wants his money in forty eight hours.

I'll get it, I swear I will. I'll have it

right here, on time, all of it. How are you

going to do that? I have got away. Someone's going

to give it to me tonight.

Speaker 3: Why.

Speaker 1: Why? Because it's a healthy thing to do. That's why.

Speaker 3: That's all you want to know, isn't it.

Speaker 1: That's all? Good night, mister Martin. Hello missus Marlow isabel

I'm calling from a drugstore in Hollywood. His Bruce returned yet, No,

and he won't.

Speaker 3: He's been kidnapped.

Speaker 5: That whoever did it wants fifty thousand.

Speaker 4: Dollars before morning, or we'll never see Bruce alive again.

Speaker 1: As I walked to my car ups at the Wiltshire Gardens,

I felt like my brain had spent the night in

a cement mixer. I was about to head back from

Malibu when I suddenly saw a Skipper Martin dash out

of his bungalow and pile into a long, glossy convertible.

I followed him out to the Pacific Palace Saves, where

he made a call at a little house which sat

on a bluff overlooking the sea. Once he was inside,

I moved up quietly and saw that the name on

the mailbox was miss Carlo Winters. I crawled up to

a lace curtain window where I could see what was

going on one look. If Miss Winters made the damage,

I was doing it to my tweets worthwhile. She was

strictly dragon lady, with flaming red hair and a waist

you could span with two hands if you were lucky

enough to get that close, and the rest of the

measurements fit just perfectly.

Speaker 5: Why you snitaling, car You wouldn't dare open your mouth

about us.

Speaker 6: Listen, Carlo, I got myself Skipper Martins a look at

her first less and always remember that.

Speaker 5: Why should I You've always been cheap talking no more?

Speaker 6: Look at you know you're in trouble.

Speaker 5: So what you do you'll holler blackmails.

Speaker 3: Go on, get out of here, Go out here before

I kill you.

Speaker 1: When Skipper slammed the front door, stopped to his car,

and wrought off, I couldn't figure any reason, and legitimate

reason that is, for calling on color Winters. So I

returned to the Fairchild place. Isabel was somewhere between hysteria

and collapse over the fact that she and Bruce had

less than two thousand dollars in their own name. Uncle Lavery,

of course, was more than reluctant to pay the ransom

demanded for the return of a many rather not have returned,

But his niece went out.

Speaker 6: All right, Isabelle, I'll give you the money, but understand

I'm doing this for you.

Speaker 5: Not for that no more, Uncle l Avery, I understand,

But can you get that much cash at this hour?

Speaker 3: The banks?

Speaker 6: Who said anything about banks? You know I don't like him.

Money will be in your hands in thirty minutes. In

the meantime, tell mister Malo, hear what arrangements you've made

with your husbands of doctors.

Speaker 1: One minute, mister Fairchild, what about the police.

Speaker 6: The police have already been notified, mister Marlowe have agreed

not to winterfere until tomorrow morning. By that time, I

suppose we'll have Bruce return to us. To us Uncle

Lavery as a mere slip of the tongue, Isabelle. I'm

only paying for his return. You take over from there.

I don't want him.

Speaker 1: A half hour later, Avery Fairchild handled be a bundle

of bills which added up to fifty thousand dollars cash.

The bills seemed slightly dirty. The old Geeze must have

had them buried someplace. For a moment. I couldn't help

thinking boy to get at this place with a shovel sometime.

But then I got back to the more pressing matters

at hand. I wrapped up the money in a shoe box,

and I drove north along the Pacific Coast Highway. I

covered the sixty miles to the rendezvous, which was a

junk yard near Venture, in about as many minutes, and

according to instructions, I slowed down for ten miles an hour.

I blinked my lights twice, tossed out the shoe box.

I was just about to resume my speed when the

head light's been approaching car fell on a man as

he darted back into the junkyard, and I saw what

I'd been expecting all the time, a white Panama hat.

But I was still playing by the rules, so there

was only one thing I could do about it. I

slammed my foot down on the accelerator and kept it

there until I reached the nearest telephone, where I telephoned

Skipper Martin at the Wilshire Gardens. It was just possibility

owned two hats, but that little balloon exploded in a hurry. Hello,

mister Martin. Yes, who is this? This is Brock remember me?

Oh yes, yes, of course I've been hoping you'd call.

I mean you got the money right now?

Speaker 3: Well no, not not this minute, but I will happen

in a couple of hours.

Speaker 1: You are sure, mister Martin, I'm positive Brock. Now only

one thing figured A man in the Panama had worked

for Skipper Martin. It had to be an hour later.

I pulled in at the fair Child of State. In

the moment I put my double a over the threshold,

I knew that the kidnapper too had kept his part

of the bargain. Bruce Gordon was back safe and sound.

Speaker 7: It happened shortly after you retired, mister Marlow. I was

working in my studio when a man wearing a.

Speaker 1: White pan in my hat.

Speaker 3: Yeah, but how did you know that, mister Marlow.

Speaker 1: Very popular this season, mister Gordon.

Speaker 5: Darling, mister Marlow was a private detective. Huh, but I'll

tell you all about that later. Go on with your story.

Speaker 7: This man was wearing a handkerchief over his face and

he forced me to go along with him at gunpoint.

Took me to a car park in the service driveway

and told me to turn around, and I was hit

from behind and went out cold.

Speaker 3: Oh, Darling, how terrible. It wasn't pleasant to him.

Speaker 7: When I came to, I was bound hand and foot,

blindfolded and gagged. I had no idea where I was.

Speaker 6: Herbert, didn't you see anybody before you were released?

Speaker 7: No, Uncle Avery. Before they let me go, they hit

me again. When I came to that time, I was

lying on the road out near Ventura, untied.

Speaker 3: That's about it.

Speaker 1: I suppose you've told the story to the police already.

Speaker 6: Huh, No, he hasn't, mister marlow And what's more, he

isn't going to I'm sorry, but I was forced to

light to you earlier this evening the policeman reporters, and

they mean publicity, and I hate publicity.

Speaker 3: I'm sure you see my point.

Speaker 1: I wouldn't make books on that. Mister Fairchild's secrets like

this only encourage kidnappers.

Speaker 6: Well, since we no longer see I do I, mister Marlowe,

I'd suggest that we consider your services at an end.

I'll have my check at your office in the morning.

Speaker 1: Good night, sir, Avery Fairchild wasn't the kind of a

man you argued with. I threw my coat over my arm,

tipped my head to Isabelle, and stepped outside. I hadn't

once mentioned Skipper Martin with the family. That might have

been a mistake, but I still wanted to look around

before I yelled Copper. As I walked past the guest cottage,

I decided to go in and check Bruce's studio. Maybe

the man in the white PhD left a few odd

footprints on the ceiling. I tossed my coat in the

corner chair and started through the clutter. Ten minutes later,

I'd found nothing. I was about to leave when I

suddenly remembered the picture of a girl in some clouds

that Bruce had been so careful to keep out of

sight hadn't been moved, and when I brought it into

the light, I didn't have to look twice. It was

the portrait of Carla Winters, a redheaded dragon lady that

Skipper Martin had visited. Now things began to add up.

At the chauffe's quarters. There was an outside telephone, and

I put through a hurry call at lieutenanty Barr at

Homicide in La. The best I could get was one

Sergeant Neely.

Speaker 6: I'm shy, mister Morrow, but the lieutenant hot on the

call right now.

Speaker 3: There's some kind of a.

Speaker 6: Row up time.

Speaker 1: But do you know where he is? The address? I mean,

oh yeah, yeah, sure sure.

Speaker 6: One of those bungalows are the Wilshire Gardens.

Speaker 1: The Wiltshire Gardens, that's right.

Speaker 3: What's so special about that?

Speaker 1: Maybe? Nothing alone a minute, thanks Neely, Hello, this is Mallowe.

All right. What brings you to Skipper of Martins at

this late hour? Well, it seems as though some person

or person's on own fired a gun several times a

little more than an hour ago. Four shots to be exact. Well,

do you think Skipper Martin fired him? Oh?

Speaker 3: Mollow, I'm sure Martin didn't fire them. You see, he

stopped him personally.

Speaker 1: Before I hung up, I gave you Borrow a quick

rundown on the whole story. After making me feel like

a schoolboy for keeping him in the dog so long.

He told me to sit on the Fairchild's front steps

until he got there, and that gave me a half

hour to kill, most of which I spent walking around

aimlessly trying to get something close to four out of

two and two, but I couldn't. Finally I heard he

Borra siren up to the front door. I was about

to head for him. With a chill in the morning air,

reminded me that my top coat was still in Bruce's studio.

I went back and got it. When I turned for

the door again, I noticed a little slip of paper

that had been under the coat fall of the floor.

I picked it up. I must have held it for

a full minute before I realized what it meant. Just

a small slip of paper, and yet it made everything

the kidnapping, call of the murder fall right into place.

When I entered the living room at the house. One

glance at Isabelle, and Bruce told me that she'd already

knew about Skipper's death. Only Uncle Avery, who was not

one to shed crocodile tears, hadn't changed. Ibara, of course,

was unhappy.

Speaker 2: Marlow.

Speaker 1: We can't run any kind of a police department on

every private detective acts like he's the commissioner himself. Why

didn't you call me when this business first began to smell?

You know better? I'm sorry, Bora, and I hate to

sound im modest, but I happened to be one of

the two men in this room who can name Bruce

Gordon's kidnapper and Skipper Martin's killer. You know what you're saying, Morol.

Speaker 7: I think so.

Speaker 1: The man in the white Panama had who kidnapped Bruce

Gordon lieutenant is Bruce Gordon himself. In other words, Bruce

Gordon kidnapped Bruce Gordon. Cla Am, I would you still

say that, Gordon? If we paid a call to call

of Winters, I had a hand over the fifty thousand

dollars of so called ransom money she's holding for you too,

or watch you prefer window we bar then in other

words Marlow Bruce, who eventually planted the divorce Isabelle and

Marie Carla Winters want to have a little steak, like

fifty thousand dollars around first, that's Riddy Burrough. But Skipper

Martin knew about Bruce and Caller's plans to marry later,

and he tried to blackmail them to pay off his

gambling debts. That's why he came to Bruce's cottage on

the Sly. However, he got there just in time to

see Bruce leave of his own free will, and therefore

knew later that he couldn't have been kidnapped, which gave

him two holes over Bruce. That's right, But he made

a mistake when he went to Collin's house and got

two demanding because she told Bruce about it. And before

he released himself, he took care of Skipper with four gunshots.

To be exact, charming people, aren't the e Barra lovely?

Sometimes I think I should shoot higher and save the

state a lot of money. And he almost got away

with it. Oh, by the way, Mollo, how do you

know that Bruce was the man in the white Panama hat?

I was pretty certain, but I got my Proof accidentally

promised not to repeat this emar. Yeah, well, I practically

fell over a little slip of paper in his studio.

It was a receipt from a department store, and it

was made out to Bruce Gordon for one Panama hat. Huh,

nothing else. But when I finally got back to my

place on Franklin Avenue, the sun was already up, and

the people who work at nice sane jobs were beginning

to fill the streets. I'd been on the go for

a steady twenty four hours, so I could think of

nothing but my bed. I was about to put my

key in the lock when a next door neighbor walk by,

bid me a cheery good morning and started down the corridor.

That alone wouldn't have disturbed my sleep. But why why

did he have to be wearing a white panama hat.

Speaker 2: The Adventures of Philip Marlowe, created by Raymond Chandler, stars

Gerald Moore and is produced and directed by Norman McDonald.

Featured in Tonight's Story where Jack will and Dewett is

Isabelle Gordon Wilms Herbert as Uncle Avery Fairchild, Bill Lally

as Bruce Gordon, Shepmankin Skipper Martin and Lou Krugman as Brock.

Detective Lieutenant de Barr is played by Jeff Corey. The

special music was conceived and conducted by Richard o'roon.

Speaker 1: Be sure to be with us again next week.

Speaker 2: At the same time, when Philip Marlowe says.

Speaker 1: When her will was read, everybody figured she'd been crazy

when she wrote it, and that included me. But I

changed my mind spending the night on an island with

a pig, a cat, and an ape because in reality

they were people.

Speaker 2: Tonight, Amos and Andy returned to the CBS network and

along with all their friends, King Fish Letnin and Henry

Van Porter, they're settling down for a permanent stay. Be

listening for them later this evening over most of these

same CBS stations. This is Roy Rowan speaking for CBS

the Columbia Broadcasting System

This transcript was automatically generated by the podcast creator and may contain errors. Aggregated via the PodcastIndex API.