Broadway is my beat, from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the godliest, the most violent, the lonesomest mile in the world. Broadway is my beat, with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. In the soft night of May, Broadway's heart beats fast. The winds of twilight have scattered the street with their promises, have drifted back into the river. And the avenue is glitter, and the throats of women are spangled with the quick jewels of night lights. Their perfumed walk is promise, the hawker is promise. That neon doorway, the muted trumpet, the frenzy drum that ride the trailing edge of twilight wind, promise. There is much to be said for that neon doorway. So dig deep for the buck, kid, and buy a May night. It's a chance and a lifetime. And it headquarters the time for the sifting, the recording, the cataloging of the day's violence. The time for the cigarette and the coffee, cold in the wax container. Then the time for going home, stop at the open window a moment to consider the glow and nuance of a May night. Decide to try it, and not know where to start. And Detective Muggerman poses a question. Going home, Danny? Well, not right away. I thought I'd walk around a while. It's a nice night. Yeah, it sure is. You doing anything? Yeah, Dr. Sinski phoned a little while ago, said the night was made for P'naco. Said if we didn't have anything else, we were welcome. Want to go? I don't know. Well, I'd walk around a while, grab a bite, maybe a movie. Mrs. Sinski puts out a nice snack table around midnight. Yeah, she does. They're fine people. Only I... Only not tonight. Tonight's the night for walking the street you walked a million times before till you're ready to drop.  I feel like taking a walk, Muggerman. You're going to make a cause out of it? I haven't got the energy. Me? Comes a night like this, I got a way figure to use it up to Sinski cure. P'naco. I got it back. Take the Muggerman speaking. What? Hold it a minute. Don't go away, Danny. Homicide. Yeah, go ahead, Mr. Man murdered. 1237 West 18 Hotel, second floor rear. Wait a minute, Mr. Who are you? Who's making this report? You hung up, Danny. Come on, Muggerman. The Mr. was obviously disguising his voice, Danny. He wouldn't tell me who he was. We'll get to that later. Ten after nine on a May night and a man calls to tell you another man's been murdered. For you, no walk. For me, no pinnacle. A bullet hole through the door, Danny. 45 to do that. Yeah, it could open it, Muggerman. They were there. Seated in the middle of the floor. A woman was there and the man of Helder, his face gentle, his fingers trailing lightly through her hair. His voice gently pleading against the death he held in his arms. I'll hold you close so you can get... The woman he held in his arms, the dead woman. Alice, baby. No, dead, okay. Helder. You two. Who are you? Police. Police? That gives you the right to walk in like this. See me and Alice. This way. Someone called in and said a murder had been committed. We figured that gave us all the right we need. Someone called? That's right. They said a man was killed. They gave this address. A man? No man was killed here. Not at this address. Only my wife. Only Alice. Only her. You can let her go now. What? He said you could let her go. She's my wife. This is Alice, my wife. She needs me now. Maybe she did once. Now there's not a thing you can do for her. No. No. There isn't, is there? We were strangers in your town. You know that? Complete strangers. Just beginning to get acquainted with people. What's your name? Wouldn't mean anything to you. Fred. Fred Mayo. Never met a lot of name for myself. Or Alice either. You want to tell us what happened, Mr. Mayo? Sure. Sure. Go ahead. Tell us. She had to stay there on the floor like that. Can't I lift her up? Move her someplace where she would... Go ahead and tell us what happened, Mr. Mayo. Sure. We'd had our dinner. We were sitting around listening to the radio. And what? Someone rang our bell. Alice went to the door before she had a chance to open it. There was this shot, and the wood in the door kind of tore open, and I went to her. All she could say to me was, Ernie, Ernie. Just like that, over and over, Ernie. Your wife knows someone named Ernie, Mr. Mayo? Yeah. Well, who is Ernie? Your kid or friend who? Ernie Britt. Alice and I met at the Regency Friendship Club. We were walking out of the park in Columbus Circle one night when we first got here, and there was a sign. We went up because we didn't know many people here then. And there was Ernie. He introduced himself and he danced with Alice. They danced real nice together. And after that they became good friends. Friends? I didn't say that. I didn't say friends. Ernie's a guy my wife and I met that night, and she kept bumping into on the street in the grocery store sometimes. When she came home, told me Ernie was sitting next to her in the movie. He bought her a candy bar. That doesn't make her his friend. You know where this Ernie lives? No. Why should I care where he lives? All I know is I met him at the club and he danced with Alice. And followed her around, and... She said his name when she died. Ernie Britt, huh? Ernie Britt. Yeah. Take over, Muggerman. And the drive through the night streets, quiet at first, where its avenues are lined with brownstone and stoops and families, silent and close, touched by the main night of the city. And nearer to Broadway now, the beginnings of crowd and the fast walk and the colored shadows take a night and write it into the funnel of people and noise and riot. The adventure now of driving up Broadway, ride the break and defer to J. Walker's sightseers and taxi cabs. At Columbus Circle Park, get out and find a place and open a door. Not for short flight of steps. Walk through an open doorway. There was a jukebox. There were two card tables together, one festooned with a pink paper tablecloth and a cut glass punch ball and a cray paper signed tack to the wall above it. Welcome, stranger, it said. You're our friend. These and the dozen dancers with their names printed on paper, hearts pinned to their bosons. And the lady who seemed to be in charge of it all. And the next dance will be a tag dance. It's in couples, and the men will tag one of them. Good evening. Oh, you're new. I haven't seen you before.  I'm the police. My name's Danny Clover. That's quite all right. Thank you, only I'm here on business. Look, Mr. Clover, we've got the makings of a fine party going here tonight. The place is filling up, so don't louse it. Just make your arrest of whoever you're looking for and a gentlemanly man and get out. I'm looking for a man named Ernie Brett. Is he here? Uh-uh. Nope. Gone. You mean he was here and he laughed, is that it? Yes, sir. Ernie hangs around here a lot. You know. No, I don't. He likes to meet people. He hangs around, thinks of games to play. You know. Where'd he go? Well, he dropped in to tell me, oh, I guess a couple three hours ago he wouldn't be here tonight. Said he had a big date at nine o'clock. Girl named Alice. Nice name. So all people named Alice come here. Ernie must have liked this Alice, all right. You know where Ernie Brett lives? No, I don't. But that Ernie must have liked this Alice, all right. Oh? Indeedy. Called up a florist while he was here all in a bed of roses. Said he'd pick him up at 8.30. Then he made another call. Made an appointment with a barber down the street. Oakley's two bucks for a bog. I tell you. Yeah, you did. Thanks a lot. Have a seat. I'll be with you in a minute. Soon as I finish Mr. Garson's scalp massage. Oh, he police badge does it, mister. How can I help? You know a man named Ernie Brett? Sure. He was in a while back. Hair cut, shave, shine. Is that all I have to do? I just want to make sure he was here. Oh, he was here all right. You say where he was going? Came in here with a big smile and told me to make him look desirable for Alice, whoever she is, date. He mentioned the time. Nine o'clock? That's right. He was planning to do it up Brown. Guess this Alice was something special. How'd he mean? Flowers and all. Called the florist from here and said he wouldn't pick up the bed of roses. Send them to his place instead. Told the florist he wanted them there at no later than a quarter after night. You know where Brett lives? Sure. Sure, I went there a couple of times to bob him on 112th Street. 320th, fourth floor back. Is that all? That's all. Thanks. Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Garcin. Now where were we? Sir, it's midnight already. How come you're pushing doorbells? Police. Now what about it? Am I interrupting anything? I only asked because I just took a fast look over your shoulder. Flowers. Wine. Yeah, used to be a party here. It's over. What do you want, mister? You know a man named Fred Mayo? What about him? I got a phone call a few hours ago. An anonymous caller gave me his room number and said we'd find a dead man there. I didn't kill him. I know you didn't. You said so. What's that, huh? That part of it. He's not dead. Well, that's right, Mr. Brett. He's in fine shape, not a scratch. Just grieving, that's all. What are you talking about? At a little after nine o'clock tonight, his wife was murdered. Alice Mayo is dead. Ow! What? You're lying. It couldn't have happened. Liar, liar, liar! We're listening to Broadway's My Beat, written by Morton Fine and David Friedkin, and starring Larry Thor as Detective Danny Kober. What can you do with two cents? Not much? Don't you believe it? Because for two cents a year, you as an American taxpayer are helping to dissolve ignorance, prejudice, and intolerance throughout the world. You are doing this through UNESCO, the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization. More than half of mankind, 1 billion, 200 million men, women, and children can either read nor write. These are the people who are also poor, ill-fed, and have a life expectancy of under 30 years. And it is toward these people that UNESCO is directing much of its educational efforts, because everyone knows that ignorance is not bliss. You are a part of the great work being done by this United Nations agency, and it costs you only two cents a year. When the rumor gets around that summer is almost here, Broadway is beside itself with glee. Somebody notices the moonlight of May, uses it as a backdrop to an early dream, tells a girl about it, who tells a guy, and the word gets round. It drifts across town, causes reactions, closets open as do charter counts, and the cotton dress and the sports shirt and the sandal constitutes the current uniform, and the poodle is clipped and sashed, and the ankle is silken, the shoulder is soft and starting to tan. Also the boy in the crew cut who runs down the street screaming, I'm in love, it's May, it's the right time. Except for some people, those who at time had caught up with conspired against to make the sum total of all the minutes an instant of shock. This man, Ernie Britt, in this room, shaking his head against it. I can't believe it. I just can't believe it. Let's go inside, shall we? What's all right? I made up my mind to just stand here until you get around to believing it, Mr. Britt. Now we can go on from there. What for? Did you kill her? Crazy. I'll rephrase it so you can understand it better. Did you ring her doorbell then when you heard someone at the door?  That's the way she was killed, huh? You had a date with her tonight, didn't you? How do you know? You left word every place you were that you were going to see a girl named Alice tonight at nine. Mrs. Mayo's name is Alice. You met her at an introduction club. You followed her around. Tonight you had a date with her. Right here. Yeah, she didn't show. Which means you have no alibi for nine o'clock. Where were you at that time? Right here. But without Mrs. Mayo, so you've got no way of proving it. Right, didn't you? Married and a girl who knew her own mind. I never forced myself on anybody. What about the man who called me a few minutes after nine and told me a man was murdered? Riddle, huh? How many guesses do I get? Just one. Try Ernie Britt. I didn't call anybody. Why did you kill her, Ernie? Well... Well, what? Why did you kill her? You know something? She isn't dead. I gotta think about things, mister. Everything, everything, I... I don't know. Come on, Ernie, if you're under arrest. Take him downtown, book him on suspicion of the murder of Alice Mayo, then walk down a corridor that leads into two o'clock of a May night on the threshold lightest cigarette, then edge into it. The two o'clock time, the squalls have missed, the scarlet of neon bleeding into pavements wet with nighttime, the river sounds, the tremble of earth as a subway train pierces it, and the man, sodden with loneliness who stops you, asks for a small loan, offers you the security of a name written on the two o'clock mist. Give it to him. Maybe he'll mention your name where sleep is. The next morning, go back to the man on whom you'd intruded once before, while he held death close and spoke softly to it. Go back to him. When can I take her home, Mr. Kover? I've made all the arrangements for the railroad people.  When are you gonna let me take Alice home? No, Mr. Mill. What do you people want with her? She's dead. A bullet tore her open. What else do you want from her? What good is she to you? Tell me. You're through, Mr. Mill? Yeah. Yeah, I'm through. Like you will never know. We need the report of the medical examiner, ballistics, laboratory technicians, police photographs. Yeah, I know. Complicated. Must be real complicated, the things you have to do about my wife. We want her killer. Doing these things might help us find her. Okay, I'll wait. I'll wait until you give me the word. Tell me a little about yourself, Mr. Mill. I got a wife that's newly dead. That's about me. When I get back to Baltimore, people are gonna stop me on the street to shake my hand real hard.  That's about me. That's about Fred, Mill. Baltimore was your home? Born there, grew up there. Alice lived in a fancier section, Forest Park. But I found a way to meet her and I married her in spite of the fancy competition. When did you come to New York? When did... I don't know. Maybe three months ago. Maybe not. I don't remember it. Yeah, three months and a week maybe. Why did you come here? Are you rubbing it in, Mr. Clover? Are you gonna say to me, if we never came Alice... It was a simple question, Mr. Mill. Why did you come here? Outfit I worked for transferred me to the New York office, Ruckston Enterprises Novelies. Alice got all gay about it. Big deal, New York, she told me. That's why we came. Big deal. It was hard to make friends. You went to that social club.  Tag dances, crummy punch strangers with sweaty hands. It brought Alice down. So I sent her back to Baltimore for a couple of days at her mother's house over Mother's Day weekend. She could have a heart to heart with her mom, get it out of her system, come back. Try it again.  As soon as we can. You'll wait for it here, huh, Mr. Mill? Baltimore came through with flying colors, Danny. I salute Baltimore. Will you join me? Whatever you say, Geno. I say a salute and a flourish for the monumental city under Chesapeake and for their police force of like stature. And in the same geographical location, they have responded to our desires post haste. But with what, Geno? With information and meant to couple Fred and Alice Mayo, that they were respected citizens, lived a life without the blemish, not once mentioned in the Allens of the Please Blotter, no names to conjure with, Mr. and Mrs. Mayo, until this... Until what? Until this clipping from a Baltimore newspaper which was included among the other favors from Baltimore. A news photograph of an unidentified guest rescuing Alice Mayo from a blazing Balkamarian inferno. Let me see it. Hey, look at it, Danny, and consider how heroes are born on the minute, by the minute. Consider the bravery of a man who, through smoke and flames... Consider something else, Geno. The date, May 12th. Oh, Danny, I hold it in farmed memory. This day was Mother's Day, a day on which I presented Mrs. T, the mother of my Chick Rain. Then consider another thing. There's more? The man carrying Mrs. Mayo. I repeat, a hero, presumably a husband. Yeah, a hero. Well, it's not her husband. What? Danny, you said... Do another thing for me, Geno. Call Dr. Kacinski. Tell him to meet me at the morgue right away. Hello, Dr. Kacinski. What's this all about, Danny? Doctor, how was Alice Mayo killed? Specifically? That's right. A bullet of large caliber which entered the pericardial cavity, smashing face, the sympathetic nerve support... All right, all right. What killed her? Make up your mind how you wanted the question answered, Danny. I'll be happy to give it to you as medical examiner, as friend... Let's take a look. Danny, but... All right, let's take a look. Enough of a look?  Yes. All right, then. Look for a bruise. A what? Something, anything. Anything that would have made her unconscious before she was shot. Go ahead. Danny. Something. Yeah, here. Her scalp. Subcutaneous bleeding at a bruise. Recent? I'd say 15 minutes, a half hour before she was killed. I'm sorry, Danny. This would have turned up later. Maybe tomorrow, but... I'm sorry. You remember Detective Magovan, don't you? Hi. Sure. Come on in. You got some news for me? Yeah. A lot of news. I can take Alice home now, huh? I'm afraid not, Mr. Mail. Something happened, a hitch. A great big one. What's he mean, Mr. Clover? Baltimore Sun, huh? The paper. What does he mean, Mr. Clover? A great big one. A great big what? You're subscribed to the Sun since we left Baltimore. What's he mean? Here's what I mean. Look at this picture, Mail. Boy, if my wife's picture were in the paper like that, I'd never have nerve enough to go back to my hometown. You've seen it before, haven't you? All right. Now it's caught up with me in New York, so... I'll move to California.  I'm ashamed of it. Is that what you wanted to hear? That's not what we want to hear.  And we want to hear what she's doing in that fire when she was supposed to be staying with her mother.  Ernie Britt, Mail. That's who it is. Well... Well, he saved her life, didn't he? They love each other? Your wife and Ernie? No! No, she... She didn't love him. I've been thinking about it, Mr. Mail. But I can't figure out a motive why Britt killed your wife. Yeah. A hero saved your life in Baltimore and shot her through a door. You know, Danny, maybe it was a mistake. Yeah, it could have been.  At least that's what he spread around town. Flores, Barber, Introduction Club, everybody knew. If I had a date with another man's wife, I sure wouldn't spread it around. Unless it's the custom nowadays, I wouldn't know. I knew. She told me. It's the custom, huh? No, no. It wasn't that. The only thing I can figure is this, Mail. Your wife set up a thing with Britt. Then she got sorry about it and made a confession to you. She was sorry. She was sorry about the whole thing, the way she carried on.  He doesn't understand me, Danny. You ask him.  They needed an alibi for nine o'clock last night.  That way, they'd alibi each other. An alibi that could have held. I know all that. She told me all that. She told me. And I forgave. We were even going to leave New York and start all over again, someplace. I even quit my job. You can check that. But the point still bothers me, Mail. Yeah, that's the point that bothers me too, Danny. Your wife knew that Britt was going to shoot through the door at nine o'clock. And that Britt was going to call the police to establish the time. Yet she answered the door at nine o'clock. And got shot to death at nine o'clock by Britt. He's facing a murder charge like you planned it. Your way of getting rid of both of them. Listen to me. I'm a man who comes from a respectable family. I'm known in Baltimore all over. There are lots of friends. What do you think my friends said after they saw that picture? She told you everything. Apologized. You forgave her in your own way.  Because what do you think they'll say now? That Fred Mail. He doesn't mess around. His wife did a thing like that. You can't fool with Fred Mail. That's what they'll say. Yeah, Mail. You'll be a big man in Baltimore. Let's go. In the minutes before dawn, Broadway lies huddled in a dreamless sleep. It's the time of no stars and a silent wind. But walk the streets. Take the slow walk and listen. It's there. It's always there. The sound of weeping. You know that night time will never leave. It's Broadway, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomeest mile in the world. Broadway. My Beat. Broadway's My Beat stars Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover with Charles Calvert as Tortaglia and Jack Krushan as Muggevin. The program was produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with musical score composed and conducted by Alexander Courage. In tonight's story, Whitfield Connor was heard as Fred. Featured in the cast were Betty Lou Gerson, Lamont Johnson, and Joe Forte.