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Death Writes the Postscript

The Fat Man

Death Writes the Postscript

Dec 08 1950








LAURA, the client

VOICE, on phone

MAC, police lieutenant

HARRY, the show biz agent

TONY, the crook

IRMA, Laura's roommate

FREDDY, the boyfriend


GORCY, the henchman

ANNCR: Here comes...THE FAT MAN in "DEATH WRITES THE POSTSCRIPT," starring J. Scott Smart...and presented by the makers of CAMEL Cigarettes.


1ST ANNCR: What cigarette do you smoke, Doctor? 

2ND ANNCR: That question was asked of doctors in every branch of medicine, doctors all over the country. 

1ST ANNCR: What cigarette do you smoke, Doctor?

2ND ANNCR: The brand named most was Camel! Yes, according to this recent nationwide survey, more doctors smoke Camels than any other cigarette!

1ST ANNCR: Test Camels yourself and see how mild, how flavorful, how thoroughly enjoyable a cigarette can be! 


2ND ANNCR: There he goes...he's lighting up a Camel cigarette...he's stepping on the scales..


VOICE: Weight 234 pounds...


VOICE: Fortune..danger. 


VOICE: Who is it? 

FAT: The Fat Man.


FAT: There are lots of ways to get killed and a private eye runs into practically all of them. When you're in my business long enough, you begin to think that too many people have an aversion to dying of old age, and they go out of their way to spend their spare time shopping for wooden kimonas. A guy'll stick his neck right out to here - with a big gun in his hand never seeming to think that he's sure to swing for - murder.


FAT: It was ten in the evening when I turned out my office lights and swiveled my chair around to face the window. It was nice and restful in the dark, and I let my mind relax as I watched the guys and their gals pass under the lamppost on the other side of the street. I was just about thinking of calling it a day


FAT: when something happened that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up like toothbrush bristles!


(MUSIC:. . . .. .. .

FAT: The door at my back had opened. For all I knew, there was a guy standing back there who didn't like me - a guy with a gun in his hand. If I moved too fast - or too slow - he might let me have it .. so I decided not to move at all. 


FAT: Come in ... 


FAT: Okay if I turn around? 

LAURA: Okay.

FAT: Well - hello.

LAURA: Hello, Mr. Runyun. 

FAT: I don't like talking in the dark much - do you? 


FAT: Then suppose you snap that wall switch on your right.


FAT: Thanks. No artillery - no knives. That always makes for better conversation. 

LAURA: What?

FAT: You know, if people kept creeping into private offices the way you did just now, we wouldn't have any use for doors.

LAURA: I'm sorry, Mr. Runyun - but your door was unlocked and I made up my mind I'd wait here all night if I had to.

FAT: For what? 

LAURA: To see you. I took an awful chance just leaving my house - and I'm afraid to go back.

FAT: Why? 

LAURA: Because - someone wants to kill me! 

FAT: Who? When, and what for? 

LAURA: I don't know! That's why I came to you. I...I'll pay you, of course! I have two hundred dollars here - in cash! 

FAT: Sit down, Miss ..

LAURA: Wilson. Laura Wilson. I'm a dancer. 

FAT: What kind of a dancer?

LAURA: Well, I .. I haven't gotten a decent job yet - mostly honky tonk stuff. But maybe I'll get a break one day - (PAUSE) Providing - I live that long. 

FAT: What makes you think somebody's gunning for you?

LAURA: Look at these letters, Mr. Runyun ....


LAURA: I received this one on Saturday - this one on Sunday - and the third one came today. The man who wrote them - is giving me two more days to live.

FAT: Not very generous, is he? 

LAURA: Mr. Runyun, I'm scared stiff! I don't know which way to turn! For heaven's sake, do something for me! 

FAT: Take it easy, baby - it may not be as bad as it sounds.

LAURA: But those letters - 

FAT: Well, it just may be a blackmail build-up. Do you have any enemies?

LAURA: Not that I know of.


FAT: You mean everybody likes you? 

LAURA: My home is in California. I've only been here two months. I - I don't think I know more than four people in this city. 

FAT: Who are they?

LAURA: Well - there's Harry Garth - my agent. He's been swell to me, Mr. Runyun.

FAT: Oh...Who else?

LAURA: Irma Bates - my roommate. I haven't told her anything about those letters. And then there's Freddy -

FAT: Boy friend? 

LAURA: Well - in a way. He plays saxophone in one of the smaller orchestras downtown. 

FAT: And the fourth?


FAT: Brock. Where have I heard that name before?

LAURA: I...I don't like Tony. He's too hard - too oily. He frightens me. But I'm afraid to tell him to leave me alone. They say-- They say he has gunmen working for him. 

FAT: Think Tony may have gotten writer's cramp on these letters? 

LAURA: I don't know what to think, Mr. Runyun! (BREAKING A LITTLE) And - and I don't know what to do. 

FAT: All right - take it easy. Maybe we can get you out of this if you follow my orders. 

LAURA: Oh, yes, I'll do anything, Mr. Runyun!

FAT: Well, here - this is the key to my flat. 


FAT: The address is on this card. I want you to move in and stay there. Don't go home and don't tell anybody where you are. And don't open the door for anyone. There's only one other key to it - and that's in my pocket. 

LAURA: You mean you want me to stay in your place - alone?

FAT: (LAUGH) Look - wolves grow big - but not as big as me.

LAURA: Oh....I... I didn't mean it that way. It's just that my roommate - 

FAT: Oh - yeah - yeah - I forgot about her. She'll have to get out of your apartment, too. Do you trust her completely?

LAURA: Yes, I do, Mr. Runyun. 

FAT: Well, then call her, - and tell her to meet you at my place. Then I'll move into your place. And, Laura, don't forget - no one else is to know about this.

LAURA: Yes, I understand.

FAT: Here - write your address down on this sheet of paper. 


LAURA: Who are you calling?

FAT: The police. You should have notified them yourself. Come in handy, you know, when somebody promises to make you a set-up for an embalmer.

LAURA: There's my address, Mr. Runyun. 

FAT: Okay - now beat it. 

VOICE: (FILTER) Police headquarters. 

FAT: Take a cab in front of the door.


FAT: Excuse me - Get me Lt. Mackenzie, will you? Laura, you can call your room mate from my apartment. 

LAURA: (LEAVING MIKE) All right, Mr. Runyun - and - thank you from the bottom of my heart! 



MAC: (FILTER) Lt. Mackenzie speaking.

FAT: Runyun, Mac.

MAC: Hello, Brad. 

FAT: Say - a good looking young kid just walked in here with some interesting mail. Somebody's been threatening to kill her.

MAC: What's her name? 

FAT: Uh.... Laura Wilson. She lives at ... 

MAC: Yeah - where? 

FAT: Wait a minute, Mac. I just noticed something queer. 

MAC: Queer? 

FAT: She wrote her address on a piece of paper. It's lying right next to the letters she said she received.

MAC: Well? 

FAT: I'm no expert on the subject, Mac - but looking at the handwriting on both of them I'd swear she wrote those letters - to herself! Meet me in front of my apartment, Mac - Right away.


FAT: Here we are.


MAC: Well, what are you knocking for? It's your apartment. 

FAT: Why, (LAUGH) a gentleman always knocks, my friend. 

MAC: Oh. (PAUSE) No answer. 

FAT: Well, then we'll use the key.



MAC: Empty. 

FAT: Yeah. So it seems. Wait a minute. What are those clothes doing over that chair? 

MAC: (LEAVING MIKE SLIGHTLY) They're yours, aren't they?

FAT: Yes....Sure they are - and I always keep them in this closet!


MAC: (SLIGHTLY OFF) Brad! Hanging from that bar! -- 

FAT: Yeah .. Mac. She's dead.


FAT: The noose was her nylon stocking .. No sign of a struggle, Mac ... no sign of anything, as a matter of fact.

MAC: Well, here we go again. Another suicide. 

FAT: Suicide? Do you mean to say a girl would walk into my office .. slap down two hundred bucks for protection ... and go out and knock herself off?

MAC: It's that money angle that bothers you .. when a woman is in the mood to kill herself, two hundred dollars doesn't mean very much. 

FAT: But why would she come to my office in the first place? 

MAC: Publicity, maybe ... make sure she'd be found with plenty of fanfare. Take a young kid who comes to New York to make a name for herself. She misses but wants to go out with publicity even ---

FAT: Batting your head against a concrete wall can be more fun.

MAC: (GOOD NATUREDLY) Well .. I think we've got an ironclad motive for suicide.

FAT: Well, maybe you're right. Anyway - your theory fits in with my plans, Mac.

MAC: Does it? How? 

FAT: Because this is one of the few cases I've ever seen where I think the killer would prefer us to believe it was murder. 

MAC: I don't follow you.

FAT: (SUDDENLY - SOTTO) Mac..without moving a step..you can yank that front door open by reaching out your hand... 

MAC: Roger.


HARRY: (A LITTLE FLUSTERED) Oh - oh, excuse me. 

FAT: Looking for someone?

HARRY: You're the Fat Man, aren't you?

FAT: And you must be a detective. 

HARRY: Who - me? I'm an agent. An actor's agent. What goes on here, anyway?

FAT: You ought to know. You've probably had your ear to that door for the past ten minutes.

HARRY: I'm sorry about that. I wasn't sure if I ought to come in. 


MAC: What's your name? 

FAT: His name is Garth. Harry Garth. 

HARRY: (PLEASED) Oh... You've heard of me? 

FAT: Indirectly. 

MAC: What are you doing here? 

HARRY: I got a call from a client of mine about twenty minutes ago. Laura Wilson. 

FAT: She called you? What for?

HARRY: I don't know. She just told me to come over here right away. I didn't get a chance to ask her why. She hung up on me as soon as she gave me the address. Is - Laura here? 

FAT: Yeah. She's here, all right - only she's not in a talking mood. 

HARRY: What? 

MAC: She's dead, Garth. 


FAT: Yeah. In that room - on the bed... 

HARRY: (FADING) I better go in and see her. I just can't believe she's dead. 

FAT: (LOW) You better take that guy down to headquarters and question him, Mac. 

MAC: There isn't much to ask him with a set-up like this. 

FAT: You're really convinced that it was suicide, aren't you? 

MAC: Unless the coroner changes my mind when he takes the body to the morgue for an autopsy. 

FAT: Oh, the coroner will find that she died by hanging, all right. 

MAC: Well, then that settles it, as far as I'm concerned. Look, I've got to get back to headquarters. You'll wait here for the coroner, won't you? 

FAT: I have to. I happen to live here.

MAC: (LAUGHS) I forgot. (LEAVING MIKE) Ask him to ring me at headquarters just as soon as he has a post mortem report.

FAT: Okay.


MAC: (OFF) So long, Brad...and don't break your neck over this case. You may find it's a waste of time. 

FAT: It's my time and I like to waste it.


FAT: Hey, Garth - Come in here, will you?

HARRY: (COMING ON..BROKENLY) Laura... She was only a kid.

FAT: Any idea who might have done it? 

HARRY: Those marks on her neck.

FAT: Yeah. We found her hanging in my closet, Garth. 

HARRY: (STARTLED) Hanging? You mean she killed herself?

FAT: That's what the police believe. My theory's a little different, though. Oh-- By the way, you still haven't explained that eavesdropping business, Mister.

HARRY: Well, it was - Laura's voice when she called me. She sounded scared...worried. I didn't know what I'd find when I got here.. 

FAT: So you decided to play it safe.

HARRY: Yes. 

FAT: Does the name of Tony Brock mean anything to you? 

HARRY: (TENSE) Tony Brock? 

FAT: What's the matter? Is he as bad as all that?

HARRY: Tony's a man most people like to keep away from.

FAT: Tough? 

HARRY: Well...he carried a gun. And - I've heard that he's used it.

FAT: Have you ever seen him?

HARRY: Yes. 

FAT: What does he look like? 

HARRY: Well, he's big..and heavy set. He's got a mean face.

FAT: Where can I find this guy? 

HARRY: I couldn't say. He moves around a lot. But maybe Laura's room mate could tell you. Irma's met him.

FAT: That's another thing. Where is Irma? 

HARRY: Well...I don't know..I.... 


FAT: Never mind. (INTO PHONE) Yes? 

TONY: (FILTER) Who's this?

FAT: Who do you want? 

TONY: Is Laura there?

FAT: What's your name, Mister? 

TONY: Never mind my name! I ast if Laura was there!

FAT: Just a minute. (SOTTO) Garth...get on this phone and tell me if you recognize the voice.


TONY: I told you I wanted to speak to Laura. 

HARRY: I...uh....


HARRY: Hello? (PAUSE) He hung up.


FAT: Did you recognize the voice?

HARRY: Well, I'm not sure..but I think..it was Tony Brock. 



IRMA: (OFF..MUFFLED) Who's there?

FAT: My name is Runyun... 


IRMA: What do you want? 

FAT: Conversation, Miss Bates. Five minutes worth.


IRMA: This is no time for social calls, Mr. Runyun.

FAT: This isn't a social call, Sweetheart. It's strictly business. (PAUSE) Oh - you going somewhere?

IRMA: What's it to you? 

FAT: You weren't packing that suitcase just to kill a little time, were you? 

IRMA: I wish you'd state your business and leave, Mr. Runyun...I'm not in the habit of having men in my room at this hour of night.

FAT: When did you break the habit? Half an hour ago? 

IRMA: What do you mean, b--?

FAT: Tell your boy friend to come out from behind those curtains. His feet are too big to play hide-and-seek.

IRMA: (TENSE) Freddy .. 

FREDDY: (COMING ON) Okay..What's the big idea?

FAT: The big idea is this, sonny..a friend of yours was murdered a little while ago.

IRMA: Murdered? 

FAT: Yeah. Your room mate, Laura Wilson.


FREDDY: I don't believe it! 

FAT: I'd make an affidavit for you, but I'm not in the mood. Laura was strangled to death - and although I hate to make you two unhappy, that half-packed suitcase doesn't exactly put you in a comfortable position.

FREDDY: We had nothing to do with Laura!

FAT: No? She told me you were a friend of hers. 

FREDDY: So what? That doesn't mean I'd kill her! 

FAT: It doesn't mean you wouldn't kill her, either. 

FREDDY: (ANGRILY) I ought to sock you in the nose!

FAT: Now that's an impulse you'd better control, Freddy. 

IRMA: Oh, wait a minute. Don't start any trouble, Fred. We can explain everything.

FAT: Well, that's fine.


IRMA: Well, you see, Freddy and I - were married today. 

FAT: Congratulations.

IRMA: That's why the suitcase was packed! We were leaving town tonight!

FAT: Did Laura phone you this evening? 

FREDDY: (UP) No! We haven't seen her all day! 

FAT: Irma's answering the questions, Freddy.

IRMA: (RELUCTANTLY) Yes..she did phone. She asked me to meet her somewhere..and spend the night with her. I said I would...to avoid excuses.

FAT: You mean you didn't want to explain that you'd married her boy friend.

IRMA: That's right.

FAT: There are a couple of weak spots in that alibi, Irma, that might call for a little further explanation. 

IRMA: It's not an alibi! It's the truth!

FAT: Oh.... Do you know a man named Tony Brock? 


FAT: Oh... He scares you too, huh?

FREDDY: (WORRIED) What about him?

FAT: I'd like to know when you spoke to him last.

IRMA: Why, ..I couldn't say.

FAT: You mean you could, but you won't. 

IRMA: Tony's too tough for me. I'm afraid of him.

FAT: I can think of a few other things that might worry you more unless you open up! 

FREDDY: You've got nothing on us!

FAT: No? Well, let me tell you something, Sweetheart...as far as I know, the only one in New York outside of myself who knew that Laura went to my apartment tonight...was Irma.

IRMA: That's not true!

FAT: Isn't it? 

IRMA: (PLEADING) You - you won't tell Brock that I talked, will you? 

FAT: Not if you talk enough.

IRMA: Brock was here tonight..and I told him Laura called. 

FAT: Was he looking for Laura?

IRMA: I don't know.. 

FAT: Didn't he ask for her when he came over?

IRMA: No, not right away.

FREDDY: He...searched the apartment first.

IRMA: We couldn't stop him..he carries a gun. 

FAT: Yes, so I've heard. What was he looking for?

IRMA: He didn't say..but, whatever it was, he found it.

FAT: How do you know? 

IRMA: Because he looked through Laura's things and then he put a paper in his pocket. He didn't bother to look any more after that.

FAT: That's a very interesting story. 

IRMA: Oh, I swear it's true, Mr. Runyun!

FAT: Where can I get hold of Tony Brock? 

IRMA: Freddy knows!

FAT: Come on, Freddy..let's have it. Come on.

FREDDY: There's a gin mill..near twenty-eighth street..on Ninth Avenue. Louie's place.

FAT: All right..now look. You two are postponing that honeymoon for a few days.

IRMA: Oh, we won't leave! I promise we won't, Mr. Runyun!

FREDDY: (AMUSED) You'd better be careful, Runyon.. I heard of another guy who went after Tony Brock once. They found him on the bottom of the river..in a cake of cement. 

FAT: It takes a lot of cement to cover me, Freddy..more than Tony can afford. 



FAT: You know, it would simplify things a lot if the gentlemen of my profession could just look a suspect over and know without any further investigation that he was the guilty party. And it would be very pleasant if you could judge the mildness of a cigarette that casually too. Unfortunately, however, such is not the case.


1ST ANNCR: You hear a lot about different cigarette tests these days -- quick tests, trick tests of cigarette mildness. But only steady smoking can tell you how mild a cigarette can be!

2ND ANNCR: Make the sensible cigarette test -- the thirty-day Camel Mildness Test! Smoke Camels for thirty days - in your normal manner. Your "T-Zone" - T for throat and T for taste - will provide the answers. 

1ST ANNCR: You'll see how cool and mild Camels are..how rich and flavorful..how thoroughly enjoyable! You'll discover why people say, "Once a Camel smoker, always a Camel smoker." 

2ND ANNCR: In a coast-to-coast test of hundreds of people who smoked only Camels for thirty days, noted throat specialists reported not one single case of throat irritation due to smoking Camels!

1ST ANNCR: Make your own thirty-day Camel mildness test - the sensible cigarette test - and see why more people smoke Camels than any other cigarette!

SINGERS: How mild,

How mild,

How mild can a cigarette be? 

Make the Camel thirty-day test 

And you'll see!

Smoke Camels and see! 

ANNCR: And now here again is The Fat Man. 



BAR: What'll it be, Mister?

FAT: A beer. 

BAR: One beer.


FAT: Kind of crowded tonight.

BAR: Yeah. 

FAT: Everybody here?

BAR: Whaddaya mean?

FAT: All the old customers, I mean.

BAR: We keep busy. 

FAT: I'm looking for a guy - a steady client. Maybe you can help me out. 

BAR: What's his name?

FAT: Brock. Tony Brock. 


BAR: (SLOWLY) Never heard of him. 

FAT: That's funny. I thought he had lots of friends.

BAR: You a dick, Mister? 

FAT: Hmm.....Why?

BAR: Because dicks don't come in here alone when they look for Tony. They come in pairs.

FAT: Oh, now stop making like Humphrey Bogart. You're not the type.

BAR: Tony Brock had lots of friends, Mister - and there's one standing right behind you now.

FAT: Oh.....Does he want a beer?

GORCY: (COMING ON) No - he don't want no beer. Start servin' from the other end of the bar, Heinie....


GORCY: Now, what's the frame, Mister? 

FAT: I'm looking for Tony Brock. 

GORCY: Why? 

FAT: I want to sell him two tickets to a rat race. 

GORCY: You're the Fat Man. The private dick.

FAT: Yeah. And you're wasting my time. 

GORCY: You in on that meeting in there with Tony and that other guy?

FAT: Yeah. 

GORCY: How do I know you're leveling? 

FAT: My gun's in a shoulder holster under my left arm. Reach in and take it out. 


FAT: Well now, stop playing patty-cake. It's the only gun I carry. 

GORCY: All right - let's go. 

FAT: That's better. 


GORCY: Through that curtain - first door on your right. 

FAT: The boss' office? 

GORCY: Yeah. 

FAT: Thanks.

GORCY: (LEAVING MIKE) When you come out - you'll get your rod.




FAT: Well - that's that.


FAT: I'm going to have a nice time getting out of this joint. Well, there have been days like this before. I should be used to it by now.


VOICE: (ON FILTER) Police headquarters.

FAT: Hello, let me speak to Lt. McKenzie. Hmph! This is getting real interesting.

MAC: (FILTER) Lt. McKenzie speaking.

FAT: Hey, this is Runyun, Mac.

MAC: Oh-- I'm glad you called, Brad. You were right! According to the coroner, Laura Wilson was strangled first before she was hanged! Where are you now? Have you uncovered anything? 

FAT: Sure. There's a guy named Brock - Tony Brock. He didn't kill her - but he could tell us who did, Mac.

MAC: We'll make him talk! Where is he?

FAT: Right here, Mac - on the floor - with a knife in his back.



HARRY: Oh.... Runyun. 

FAT: I'm sorry to disturb you at two in the morning, Garth - but I need some information. 

HARRY: Sure. Sure. Come on in.


FAT: You said you knew Irma Bates - Laura Wilson's room mate.

HARRY: She's a dancer - a client of mine - like Laura was.

FAT: Well, I've notified headquarters to pick her up - along with a guy named Freddy - on a murder charge. 

HARRY: You mean that Irma -

FAT: Well, we're not sure yet - but that's where you come in. They're going to be questioned in about fifteen minutes - and you might be able to help.

HARRY: There's very little I know, Mr. Runyun - except that Irma and Laura used to fight a lot over Freddy.

FAT: That's what I mean. Irma married Freddy today - and they were all set to get out of town.

HARRY: So - that's it ...

FAT: That's what?

HARRY: That's why Irma turned down that big offer I got for her.

FAT: She turned down a chance for a good job?

HARRY: Uh huh. I couldn't understand it - until now.

FAT: Slip your clothes on, will you, Garth? And come with me. My car's downstairs. 

HARRY: Okay, Runyun. I'll be with you in just a minute.



HARRY: Yes - Irma was always jealous of Laura. Laura had a promising career, Mr. Runyun - and Irma was only second rate.

FAT: You really thought you'd go places with Laura Wilson, didn't you, Harry?

HARRY: She was a comer, all right. She was insured for fifty thousand dollars with a special clause covering damage or disability to her legs.

FAT: Really? 

HARRY: Most entertainers do that, you know. 

FAT: So I've heard. Incidentally - you needn't be afraid of Tony Brock any more.. 

HARRY: What do you mean?

FAT: He's dead. 

HARRY: He is? Do you know who killed him? 

FAT: The same man - or woman - who killed Laura Wilson. I found him in his gin mill headquarters and ducked out quick. I was afraid one of Brock's gorillas would find me there with the body.

HARRY: How did you get out? 

FAT: Well, the way Brock's murderer got out. Through a window in the bathroom behind the office. Just before I left, though, I went through Tony's desk. 

HARRY: Find anything?

FAT: I found what somebody else was looking for when Tony was killed. A contract.

HARRY: What kind of a contract? 

FAT: A contract with Laura's agent .. you! 


FAT: Um hum...It took me a long time to figure out why Tony Brock wanted to get hold of that contract - but it finally came to me ... just a little while ago.


FAT: Tony was going to use it for a little blackmail. You see, that contract had Laura's signature on it - one of the few pieces of paper left in the world, I suppose, that she'd written on. 

HARRY: But - what's that got to do with anything? 

FAT: Well, if you compared her signature with the letters she said she received - you'd find the handwriting was the same. Brock was going to point that out to the killer - and get a fifty-fifty split. 

HARRY: I see.

FAT: Nobody knew, of course, that I'd already found out she wrote those letters to herself. Now that we're sure Laura was murdered - it puts a very peculiar slant to the case. 

HARRY: Does it?

FAT: Yeah - uh - Who was beneficiary on that insurance you just told me about, Harry?

HARRY: Now listen, Runyun - I only mentioned that to be honest with you.

FAT: You mentioned it because you knew it had to come out sooner or later - and you were using reverse English. You figured no one could put you in a spot - so you had nothing to lose.

HARRY: (SLOWLY) Just what are you getting at, Runyun?

FAT: Fifty grand is a lot of dough. I guess Tony Brock figured it was worth the trouble - for half. Laura must have told him something about your so-called publicity scheme for her -

HARRY: Just - keep driving, Fat Man. 

FAT: Oh-- Well - I didn't think you were the gun-toting type, Harry. I figured you only went in for nylon stockings and knives. 

HARRY: Well, you figured wrong.

FAT: Did you tell Laura to write those letters to herself? 

HARRY: Sure I did. It sounded like a swell publicity stunt to her. 

FAT: And it gave the cops a permanent red herring to chase. It'd be pretty hard to pin a murder rap on you when the writing was in somebody else's hand - and that somebody else was dead.

HARRY: You're on your way out, Runyun. 

FAT: Oh? No kidding? 

HARRY: Slow down at the next corner.


HARRY: I said slow down!

FAT: There's a nice stretch of road across this bridge ... and I've always wanted to see if this crate could do eighty.

HARRY: (ANGRILY) Slow down or I'll put a slug in your back!

FAT: Go ahead. We're going sixty-five. One twist of this wheel, and your beneficiary days are over.

HARRY: (GETTING WORRIED) Runyun, are you crazy? You're doing seventy! 

FAT: Is that all? Watch ...


FAT: Let me know when we hit eighty, Harry -

HARRY: (TERRIFIED) For the love of Mike, there's a curve in the road up ahead! Slow down, Runyun! 

FAT: Drop that rod.

HARRY: Runyun - 

FAT: I said drop that rod!

HARRY: All right - all right. I - (SCREAMING) Runyun - look out!




MAC: (OFF - SMILING) Uh-- May I come in, Brad?

FAT: Oh - oh.... Sure. Sure. Pull up a chair, Mac.


MAC: (FADE IN) The doc just told me you'd be okay, Brad.

FAT: Yeah, it was a close call. I had control of the car all along - but when I yanked the wheel to scare him into dropping his rod, a tire must have blown. They tell me I'll only have to stay here in the hospital until tomorrow.

MAC: You're fortunate. Among other things Garth has got a compound fracture of his right leg. He'll probably be here for two months. 

FAT: I imagine a young man with his future would like to hang around here for two decades.

MAC: Hmm... We got the rest of the confession out of him. Laura called him just before he went over to your place and killed her.

FAT: Yeah... The poor kid thought he was playing it straight.

MAC: Yeah... Garth wanted to get hold of the contract, but Brock beat him to it. Garth thought it was the only thing left with Laura's handwriting on it. Then when Brock called him over to that gin mill to turn on the heat, Garth used his knife. 

FAT: For a runt like that, he certainly got around. 

MAC: Well, Brad - I'll stop in again this afternoon - to keep you from getting bored.

FAT: Well, don't bother - or haven't you noticed my nurse?

MAC: Hmph! 

FAT: Oh, by the way - I'm well supplied with nourishment. Here - have a candy. 

MAC: (LAUGHING) Well, that's quite a box.

FAT: Um.... Five pounds - all creams. (CHEWING) - The best that money can buy. And incidentally, Mac ...

MAC: Yes?

FAT: I charged them to you. 



ANNCR: (OVER MUSIC)..The Fat Man will return in just a moment. 

1ST ANNCR: More people smoke Camels than any other cigarette! 

2ND ANNCR: And among the millions of Camel smokers are many whose throats are their fortunes -- singing stars like Ezio Pinza, Patrice Munsel, Martha Tilton..acting stars like John Wayne and Dick Powell. They know the importance of mildness in a cigarette -- and they find that mildness in Camels!

1ST ANNCR: Friends, I'd like to remind you to give cartons of Camels for Christmas. The special Christmas carton is bright and cheery with a space reserved for your personal greeting. Yes, a carton of Camels is always welcome.


SINGERS: How mild, 

How mild,

How mild can a cigarette be? 

Make the Camel thirty-day test 

And you'll see! 

Smoke Camels and see!

1ST ANNCR: And now here's the Fat Man with a special message.


FAT: It's especially pleasant during the holiday season to announce Camel's weekly gift of cigarettes to hospitalized servicemen and veterans. 

ANNCR: This week, Camels go to: Veterans' Hospitals, Cleveland, Ohio, and North Little Rock, Arkansas..U. S. Army Station Hospital, Fort Warden, Washington..U. S. Naval Hospital, Charleston, South Carolina. More than one hundred ninety-four million Camels have now been sent to servicemen, servicewomen and veterans.


1ST ANNCR: Tonight's program starred J. Scott Smart as The Fat Man and was directed by --


1ST ANNCR: Clark Andrews. The music was under the direction of Bernard Green.


ANNCR: For the pipe-smokers on your Christmas list, here's a gift that's sure to please: a one-pound tin of America's largest-selling smoking tobacco - Prince Albert. It's specially boxed -- bright and colorful - all ready to give! Yes, give Prince Albert, the National Joy Smoke!


ANNCR: Listen, next week for that fascinating and exciting character, The Fat Man, in the adventure called "I.O.U. FOR MURDER.


ANNCR: THIS IS YOUR FBI - the official broadcast from the files of the FBI - follows immediately. Stay tuned. 


This program has come to you from New York.