This episode of the Crime Cafe podcast features another entry in the Adventures of Philip Marlowe entitled “The Restless Day.” I’ve had a few of those.
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Here’s a copy of the transcript in PDF.
Debbi (00:12): Due to circumstances beyond our control, we do not have a guest for today, unfortunately, however, we do have an episode from the files of Philip Marlowe pi. It’s called “The Restless Day.” Enjoy!
Marlowe (01:11): They all knew he was aboard the yacht when it exploded and sank, and everybody called his death and accident. That is everybody except the cops himself. He said it was murder.
Narrator (01:22): From the pen of Raymond Chandler, outstanding author of crime fiction, comes his most famous character as CBS presents the Adventures of Philip Marlowe. And now with Gerald Mohr starred as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight’s exciting story, “The Restless Day.”
Marlowe (01:57): It had been a long, hard Saturday night that topped off a long, rugged week. When I finally got to bed dog tired at 5:00 AM Sunday morning, I was planning to stay there until I caught up on all the sleep I’d lost and gained a running head start on the coming week. And by three in the afternoon on the day of rest, I figured that job was only about half done, but whoever it was that started riding my doorbell had a different idea. I held out until the buzzer stopped, but it was only a change of tactics, so I gave up. All right! All right! I know when I’m licked! Just a minute.
Benjamin Rollins (02:33): Thank heaven you’re in Mr. Marlowe. I don’t know what I’d have done otherwise. *cough* *cough* *cough* Sorry.
Marlowe (02:38): It’s all right.
Benjamin Rollins (02:39): Here. Read this story on the front page. No, down here.
Marlowe (02:42): Oh, yacht explosion. Death labeled accident, huh?
Benjamin Rollins (02:44): Yes. Yes.
Marlowe (02:45): Oh, mystery blast, which destroyed the Rollins yacht at Santa Monica Friday night, and in which Benjamin Rollins noted cosmetics manufacturer was killed, was established today by police investigators as accidental.
Benjamin Rollins (02:57): *cough* *cough* *cough* *cough* Sorry, I smoke too much.
Marlowe (02:58): That’s all right. The explosion which shattered and sank the 50-foot pleasure boat was caused by a leaking fuel line. Oland’s known to be a chainsmoker, as believed by witnesses who have … continued on. page seven.
Benjamin Rollins (03:08): Never mind Marlowe. I’ll tell the rest.
Marlowe (03:11): Yeah, I think you’ll make it.
Benjamin Rollins (03:12): There are two frightening things wrong with that story.
Marlowe (03:15): Well, go ahead. Frighten me
Benjamin Rollins (03:17): First. The explosion was no accident. That fuel line was repaired a week ago. Second, Ben Rollins was not killed.
Marlowe (03:23): You’re shaking my faith in the American press. How do you know all this?
Benjamin Rollins (03:27): Because I am Benjamin Rollins.
Marlowe (03:28): Yes. Well, look, fella. You better dial one one six on the phone and tell the police all about it, huh?
Benjamin Rollins (03:33): No, that’s exactly what I can’t do. Someone’s tried to murder me. If they find out I’m still alive, I’ll be a target for a second attempt. *cough* *cough*
Marlowe (03:40): Wait a minute, wait a minute. I need two things right now. One, a cup of coffee. Would you like some?
Benjamin Rollins (03:44): Oh, milk, If you please. My doctor insists.
Marlowe (03:46): Okay, come on. You know, there’s a good, solid explanation of why everybody thinks you were aboard that yacht.
Benjamin Rollins (03:52): Well, first they believe my body was lost in the explosion. You see, I intended to spend the night there because Lucille, my wife and I quarrel, but I got a call and I had to go out of town on business at the last minute. I went out to the boat, but only to pick up some papers. I was in a hurry. I must have let the lights on. I lost my hat in the wind on the way back … *cough* cough* … it was found. It was found in the water. Apparently I didn’t secure the dinghy because that was a drift off shore. Mind you, I read all this in the paper when I got back this morning,
Marlowe (04:23): Back from where?
Benjamin Rollins (04:24): Phoenix, Arizona.
Marlowe (04:25): Figures.
Benjamin Rollins (04:27): I came in on the California Limited. You can check on that. Marlowe. I must know who tried to kill me before they know they failed.
Marlowe (04:35): That could be tough. Have you got any ideas?
Benjamin Rollins (04:36): Yes, I have. It might be any one of three people.
Marlowe (04:39): Three?!
Benjamin Rollins (04:40): For instance, Walter Pittman, my ex-partner threatened to kill me less than a month ago in New York when I won another court decision from him, and there’s my business manager, fellow named Slater. I almost fired him last week. The arrogant fool. *cough* *cough* *cough* It’s always when I get crossed this country.
Marlowe (04:55): I see.
Benjamin Rollins (04:56): And I’m sorry to say it, but Mrs. Rollins herself would no doubt, rather have me dead than alive. That’s quite a lineup for a mere cosmetics chemist, isn’t it?
Marlowe (05:07): Yes, it is. Look, you haven’t been running lipstick experiments with somebody else’s live equipment, have you, Rollins?
Benjamin Rollins (05:12): Oh, certainly not. I’ve been working so hard. I haven’t time for my wife, *COUGH* to say nothing of another woman. Oh, Marlowe, I’m frightened. I must get to the bottom of this. I’ll pay you double your usual fee. Will you help me?
Marlowe (05:24): Okay, Rollins, it’s a deal. If I hurry, I might get down on your funeral. Under the circumstances, that should make somebody due for a very big surprise,
(05:41): A shave and a shower later, and I checked my wheezing client’s credentials, settle him down in my apartment with orders to answer the phone, but not the door, and drove out to Santa Monica where the not very late Ben Rollins had made his home. I had a list of names, addresses, and phone numbers of people close to Rollins, that is close enough to kill, and I decided that Arthur Slater, the business manager, was my best bet for an opener. He had been described as softspoken, efficient, and somewhat arrogant, and after I found his cottage on Seaview Drive and walked up to the door, I heard someone inside offering a similar description, but with more color.
Angie (06:14): I’ve had enough of that routine, Arthur Slater. If you think for two minutes, you could throw little Angie over anytime you feel like it, after all the promises you’ve made, you’re wrong.
Arthur Slater (06:21): That’s just about enough, Angie,
Angie (06:22): Not by half brother. I know which way the wind is blowing and it’s a nice big wind. Nobody kicks me out. I mean nobody. So think it over. Mr. Big. Oh, get out of my way.
Marlowe (06:34): Yes, ma’am. Cute kid, friend of yours, Slater?
Arthur Slater (06:37): Who are you? Another insurance investigator.
Marlowe (06:39): That’s right. My name’s Marlowe. May I come in?
Arthur Slater (06:41): Yes, certainly. All the others did.
Marlowe (06:43): Thanks. Who knows? I may be the last. Slater, I’ve got three reasons for believing that yacht explosion was no accident.
Arthur Slater (06:50): Not an accident. What reasons are you’re talking about?
Marlowe (06:52): For one, Walter Pittman.
Arthur Slater (06:54): Pittman. You mean Rollins ex-partner? You
Marlowe (06:57): You know him, eh?
Arthur Slater (06:57): Well, only by name. I never met the man.
Marlowe (06:59): All right then. Let’s talk about reason number two. Lucille Rollins. How do you feel about it, Slater?
Arthur Slater (07:04): You must be out of your mind. Marlowe. She and Ben fought constantly. Yes.
Marlowe (07:07): Slater. I asked how you felt about Mrs. Rollins.
Arthur Slater (07:10): I don’t like her, but now what or who is reason number three?
Marlowe (07:15): You are. You had an argument with Rollins last week. He practically fired you.
Arthur Slater (07:19): And do you think I’d kill him over that?
Marlowe (07:21): Could be,
Arthur Slater (07:23): But Marlowe, Ben Rollins drove himself like an overloaded truck. He had a cigarette cough, nervous shakes and bad dreams. To me, bureau drawer eyelashes and glue-on fingernails simply aren’t that important. So we had frequent arguments. Now, do you have any more smart reasons you’d like to discuss or would you care to leave?
Marlowe (07:40): Just one thing more. Why does your girlfriend think you’re a little stuck up these days?
Arthur Slater (07:45): You’re becoming a bit too personal, Marlowe. Get out. I’m not compelled to answer any of your questions. There’s an established legal procedure.
Marlowe (07:51): Skip it, Slater. If I need to, I’ll be back. And I’m fairly chummy with the boys in blue myself, so I’ll get the answers if I want ’em. Goodnight, Big Shot.
(08:08): Arthur Slater was like a billiard ball, hard to rub the wrong way, and if he did have an angle, he was playing cagey. So as long as I was in the neighborhood and the trail was hot, I figured I’d have a talk with his spitfire, Angie. It wasn’t hard to trail her. The corner news boy had heard get into a cab, the cabbie swore he’d never forget her, swore again. So finding her apartment was less trouble than unfolding a $5 bill. When I pulled up across the street from a place I noticed a big car as big as the average garage and older than last year’s college graduate parked in front. It was a black pierce arrow and someone with a mouthful of cigar hulked behind the wheel. A cigar was pointed at me as I crossed the street. When I went up the stairs to Angie’s door, it was still pointed at me. But I forgot about that when the apartment door opened, Angie was relaxed. There were little glints of gold in her green eyes, and the warm lights behind her shimmered on soft waves of hair, a shade of burnished copper. Maybe she was a spitfire, but at the moment her damper was down.
Angie (09:08): Yeah. Well, busty, you got your mouth open. You might as well say something,
Marlowe (09:14): Eh? Hmm. Angie, who do you think murdered Ben Rollins?
Angie (09:18): Murdered! My mistake. chum. Good night.
Marlowe (09:21): Just a minute. This is business, honey.
Angie (09:24): Who are you, anyhow?
Marlowe (09:25): Philip Marlowe. You ran over me on your way out of Slater’s place a few minutes ago and dented my ego.
Angie (09:30): Well, sue me. Who are you working for, shamus?
Marlowe (09:33): You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but I will tell you this sweetheart. The explosion on that yacht was no accident, so I’m checking up on wives who’d rather be widows.
Angie (09:41): Lucille Rollins? Nuts. She was rolling in dough either way. She hated her job, but she sure didn’t have to kill to quit. Get your compass fixed. Marlowe.
Marlowe (09:51): Wrong way, huh? Well, suppose Lucille, were in love with , uh, Pittman, maybe?
Angie (09:55): Pittman, who’s he?
Marlowe (09:57): Shut up and talk. Tell me something, Angie, your boyfriend Slater has picked up a lot of push lately. How come?
Angie (10:02): Some big deal they’ve been working on at the plant, and he makes me sick. Get’s the first sniff of a success, and suddenly all his hats are too small,
Marlowe (10:10): Especially his old hats, honey. And you can’t blame the guy, if he’s really on his way up. Now, can you?
Angie (10:15): Listen, Mac. I’ll tell you, him, and the whole world something. Nobody is going to put little Angie on the skids. If there’s a heave hole pulled around him, Mr. Hot Shot Slater himself will get it and right in the neck. So if you happen to be snooping for him, Marlowe, you can putter right back and tell him so. Now beat it!
Marlowe (10:30): That’s not a bad idea. Oh, by the way, what’s Angie stand for?
Angie (10:35): Angelica. But don’t count on it, brother. Don’t count on it.
Marlowe (10:47): As I went down the front steps, the cigar and the black Pierce Arrow lined up on me again and followed me as I crossed the street and got into my car. It was still pointing at me as I drove away, but after all, the street was public property and the guy could smoke a cigar if he wanted to. Now, by the time I knocked on the front door of the Rollins home, I was braced for a deluge of tears and a session of red-eyed hysteria. So I was caught off balance by the handsome blonde woman of 35 with a wry, crisp voice line
Lucille (11:21): Sit down. Mr. Marlowe. You said you are a friend of Ben?
Marlowe (11:25): That’s right, Mrs. Rollins. I stopped by to offer my condolences, but apparently condolences aren’t much in order today. No tears. Not even crocodile tears.
Lucille (11:35): I’m not a hypocrite, Mr. Marlow. That’s why. I’m merely stunned and confused over this terrible accident, and I’m not sure yet how I feel.
Marlowe (11:44): Yeah, it was an accident, alright? Especially since that leaky fuel line that caused it was repaired a week ago.
Lucille (11:49): It had been repaired?
Marlowe (11:50): Oh, yeah. It’s interesting, isn’t it?
Lucille(11:52): Who are you, Marlowe?
Marlowe (11:53): I’m a private detective and I know a lot more than that. I know, for instance, that the insurance on the boat alone will keep you and pretty doodads for several years, and that’s only a drop in a bucket.
Lucille (12:03): Mr. Marlowe, I think you’d better leave.
Marlowe (12:04): And I think you better climb down off that high horse and listen, cuz I haven’t even started yet. Ben was a hated man by Pittman, by Slater, and maybe by you, and I can prove he didn’t die accidentally, baby. So I’d like some nice straight answers, huh? When did you see Pittman last?
Lucille (12:18): I’ve never seen Walter Pittman. I don’t even know what he looks like. Ben and I were married two years ago. He broke with Pittman long before that.
Marlowe (12:26): But you’re pretty chummy with Arthur Slater.
Lucille (12:27): That’s a lie. Why, we hardly spoke until a week ago.
Marlowe (12:30): You picked a poor time to get friendly, baby.
Lucille (12:32): Listen here, Marlowe, Art– Mr. Slater and I ran into each other purely by accident one afternoon last week. I happened to stop in at a small bar in downtown Los Angeles. Mr. Slater was there at a table talking with some man, a stranger to me. When he saw me, he came over. He seemed upset. So upset–
Marlowe (12:52): Wait a minute. Wait. Is there anyone else here now?
Lucille (12:54): Well, no. My maid went out to the movies
Marlowe (12:57): I heard something. A noise sounded like he came from the service porch. C’mon, let’s have a look.
Lucille (13:00): Well, I don’t know what any–
Marlowe (13:01): Hey!
Lucille (13:02): The lights went off.
Marlowe (13:02): Somebody turned him off. You better–Lucille. Look out!
(13:04): BANG BANG!
Marlowe (13:04): The bullets which had been intended for Lucille had only traveled the width of the kitchen, but miraculously both had missed. Whoever had thrown them had moved out fast, because when I got through the service porch and into the backyard, nothing stirred except the restless ends of a pepper tree. But a second later, a heavy clanking motor roared on the side street, and I got to the fence just in time to see a box car on rubber tires skid around the corner. It was a black Pierce Arrow.
(13:38): I went back to the house, found the master switch, and turned on the lights. Lucille, her face strained and bloodless, stood in the kitchen door and watched me. A hole had been punched in the back screen door and on the floor was a strange object, which had been used to unhook the lock. It looked like an oversized bobby pin wearing rubber pants, which didn’t mean a thing to me, but to Lucille, who stared at it like it was a centipede she’d just found in a cream puff, it meant plenty.
Lucille (14:02): Ben.
Marlowe (14:03): What?
Lucille (14:04): It’s like Ben himself was here. That he wasn’t killed at all.
Marlowe (14:09): What are you talking about? What is this thing, anyway?
Lucille (14:13): I don’t know. Part of some new invention he was working on for the last month. Ben carried two or three of these things with him everywhere.
Marlowe (14:21): Look, Lucille, where’s your phone?
Lucille (14:22): Right there.
Marlowe (14:23): Oh.
Lucille (14:24): But Marlowe, you don’t suppose. Who are you going to call?
Marlowe (14:28): Friend of mine. He’d better be in, too. Go.
Lucille (14:32): Marlowe. What’s the matter, Marlowe? Busy?.
Marlowe (14:33): Yeah. Yeah, busy. He’s either talking to someone or he’s gone out after leaving the phone off the hook. And either way, Lucy, that makes my friend very busy.
Narrator (14:53): In just a moment, we will return to the second act of the Adventures of Philip Marlowe. But first, it may have taken a little detective work finding a much wanted man last week, but an unprecedented number of listeners seemed to have turned Philip Marlowe for Jack Benny’s largest audience this season. Found him here on his opening show on CBS. Tomorrow night, Jack will be back with Mary, Dennis, Phil, Rochester, and Don for more of the fun that’s made the Jack Benny Show the number one comedy in radio. You’ll find him right here on CBS every Sunday at seven Eastern Standard Time. And now with our star Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlowe. And tonight’s story, “The Restless Day,”
Marlowe (15:44): When I left Lucille Rollins, the feminine target for the night, I headed for Angie Gordon’s where I’d first seen the man with a cigar in his face, who I suddenly figured might be Walter Pittman. And as I drove, I felt like my brains had spent the night playing leapfrog in a squirrel cage, because any way I called a dice, every one of my clients suspected of murdering him, suspected somebody else. And just to keep things from making any sense at all, I suspected my client. I pulled up near Angie’s and saw the Pierce Arrow parked lights in, a man with cigar out. When I got close to the bungalow door, I knew that the lady was at home and that she was receiving a gentleman caller, more or less.
Angie (16:19): You tell me your name is Smith, which incidentally I don’t believe. And then you start asking a lot of very personal questions. How cozy?
Pittman (16:26): Now, please, you do not understand. There are certain things about the death of Ben Rollins that I must know. Things that mean a lot to me.
Angie (16:34): How much a lot?
Pittman (16:36): Well, a hundred dollars maybe?
Angie (16:39): What? Now don’t tell me that’s all you could stuff into that briefcase there in your hand.
Pittman (16:43): Listen, girl, I must know whether that explosion on the boat was an accident or not.
Angie (16:49): The police let it go as an accident.
Pittman (16:51): Never mind that. You are Slater’s girl. You must know something about him, as well as the other one who was here. Now you tell me! Quick!
Angie (16:59): Stay away from me, you big lug. I don’t know anything. Let go of me!
(17:02): General sounds of fighting.
Marlowe (17:03): You heard the lady, Pittman! Let go!
Pittman (17:04): How do you know my name?
Marlowe (17:08): I read tea leaves. And while we’re all asking questions, do you mind telling me why you were throwing bullets at the chinaware on Mrs. Rollins? I
Pittman (17:14): I did no such thing. I don’t even know Mrs. Rollins.
Marlowe (17:17): You’re a liar. And it’s dull as the sauerkraut, the gun in your pocket will prove it.
Pittman (17:21): Well, I … I have no gun in my pocket. Here. Here. Look for yourself.
Marlowe (17:25): All right, I will. But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll start with your briefcase.
Pittman (17:28): Give me that.
Marlowe (17:29): Why? So you can get to the gun first?
Pittman (17:30): No, because I … alright. Alright, Mr. Smart Man, go ahead and look. See for yourself that there’s absolutely nothing there that concerns you—
(17:41): Sounds of fighting.
Marlowe (17:41): When I get my hands on you, I’ll break you in two.
Angie (17:47): Stand still, Marlowe. And don’t look so astonished.friend. It’s called a gun.
Marlowe (17:50): Why you little …
Angie (17:52): Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah. Skip it, Marlowe. This isn’t my idea of returning a favor, but it is good business. You see, baby, little Angie sells out to the highest bidder and no matter how I add things up, that isn’t you.
Marlowe (18:07): So exit Pittman. Huh? Briefcase and …
Angie (18:11): What are you staring at?
Marlowe (18:12): That. That little gadget there. Must have fallen out of Pitman’s briefcase.
Angie (18:18): Yeah. What is it?
Marlowe (18:19): Twin brother of a item I found a little while ago, rubber pants included.
Angie (18:23): What are you talking about, Marlowe?
Marlowe (18:24): Nothing, baby. Just tell me how long I sit here.
Angie (18:27): As long as you like. Now. You see, Marlowe. I just can’t afford to let you get to Pittman ahead of me.
Marlowe (18:36): Yeah. That good business you were talking about.
Angie (18:39): Uh huh. After all a gal’s got to make a living one way or another, Marlowe. Doesn’t she?
Marlowe (18:51): There was room to debate Angie’s point, but no time. So I skipped her invitation for a drink, both promised and threatened to see her again and headed for my car in the only direction left. The residence of the local pivot man, Mr. Arthur Slater. And I got to within a block of the place I parked and then approached slowly keeping me the shadows all the way. The house turned out to be as dark and quiet as the inside of a coffin. And I was about to leave when some noise a dozen yards behind me said that I was no longer alone. I turned quietly and got ready for what I figured would be a reunion with my old buddy, Walter Pittman. But I was wrong. Sneaking through a nearby clump of orange trees with all the deftness of an ox with bunion trouble was no one else but my client, Ben Rollins. When I called his name out loud, he ran toward me, arms and legs flailing the wind like a Kansas scarecrow caught a tornado.
Benjamin Rollins (19:41): Marlowe. Marlowe, I’ve been looking all over for you.
Marlowe (19:43): Rollins, why aren’t you back in my apartment where you’re supposed to be?
Benjamin Rollins (19:46): I couldn’t wait any longer. I was afraid something had happened to you. When you didn’t call, I was sure of it. I thought you might be here at Slater’s.
Marlowe (19:52): But I did call and all I got was a busy signal.
Benjamin Rollins (19:54): Oh, about an hour ago. Why that was a friend of yours. He wanted to know if you’d play cards with him tonight. And now do you believe me?
Marlowe (20:01): Well, for the time being, yes. Incidentally, Rollins, do these mean anything to you? These oversized bobby pins?
Benjamin Rollins (20:08): Good Lord. The curlers. Where did you get those curlers, Marlowe? They should be in my safe.
Marlowe (20:13): Well, I found one at your house and the other in a briefcase that belonged to Walter Pittman.
Benjamin Rollins (20:17): But Marlowe. These are samples of my newest invention, these hair curves. They can produce a home permanent wave overnight that will last for six months. *cough* *cough* *cough* It’s, it’s worth millions to me!
Marlowe (20:28): If you live.
Benjamin Rollins (20:30): Yes. Now, it should be easy to figure out who wanted to kill me.
Marlowe (20:34): I’m not so sure. If you didn’t even know these were missing, why should someone have to kill you to get hold of them? And second of all, how come the shooting’s still going on?
Benjamin Rollins (20:44): What shooting are you talking about?
Marlowe (20:45): Over at your place. Somebody tried to kill your wife there just before I called you. And that brings us right back to your alibi about talking to Ybarra at the time. It’s a little too pat, Rollins. Besides that curler could very easily have dropped out of your pocket.
Benjamin Rollins (20:57): Why should I shoot at, Lucille?
Marlowe (20:59): The best reason in the books You wanted to kill her. And when that yacht business almost boomeranged on you, you still hadn’t changed your mind. And that led to this whole routine with me double billed as patsy and star witness both.
Benjamin Rollins (21:08): You’re out of your mind. Marlowe. I couldn’t have set that explosion on the yacht as a trap for Lucille.
Marlowe (21:13): Why not?
Benjamin Rollins (21:14): Because it was on account of me that Lucille wasn’t on the yacht herself that night.
Marlowe (21:18): What?
Benjamin Rollins (21:19): Now after we argued, we decided not to spend any more time under the same roof. Lucille said that suited her fine and she’d sleep on the yacht and we let it go at that till about noon on Friday.
Marlowe (21:31): Then you got small about things and said the yacht was yours maybe? Did you’d sleep on it?
Benjamin Rollins (21:34): Well, yes. I was just bickering. …
Marlowe (21:36): Just a minute, Rollins. I’ve heard enough and I think I finally understand this whole screwy deal. I’ll know for sure just as soon as I can make one single phone call to your house. We’ll get back to Slater. Come on.
(21:55): When I got to a telephone and through to the maid at the Rollins place, I was almost positive that in another minute I’d have both a solid answer for my client and a couple of clumsy customers for the law. But when the shaky voice at the other end of the tube told me that Lucille had just left the house in high gear after mumbling something about a place called Inspiration Point, I stopped being confident and started to worry. And when I tossed the jackpot question at the maid and got the winning answer, that worry became something worse. And it must have showed.
Benjamin Rollins (22:24): What is it, Marlowe? What did you find out?
Marlowe (22:26): Too much to explain now. Where’s inspiration Point, Rollins?
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