This episode of the Crime Cafe podcast features another entry in the Adventures of Philip Marlowe entitled “The Old Acquaintance.”
You might even see a few “old acquaintances” in the video version.
And OMG, this is so obviously like Firesign Theatre’s “The Further Adventures of Nick Danger — Third Eye!”
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Download a copy of the PDF transcript of this episode here.
Debbi: Unfortunately, our guest will not be able to appear as planned. However, instead, I have another episode from the Philip Marlowe files. This one is called "The Old Acquaintance,” and I'd like to thank the people at Old Time Radio for preserving these episodes.
THE OLD ACQUAINTANCE
Marlowe: When it started a girl's wedding and New Year's Eve were only six hours away. And I didn't think the bride to be would make either one of them, but that was before I ran up against the slot machine operator, the escape convict and above all the old acquaintance …!
Announcer: 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 starring as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's exciting story, "The Old Acquaintance."
Marlowe: At six o'clock in the last evening of the year, I was sitting with my feet up on my office desk, thinking of impossible New Year's resolutions and what the girl on my butcher's 1949 calendar would or would not be wearing. But at that present point, there was a soft, almost apologetic knock on my office door. I said, come in and saw a quiet man in quiet clothes, who extended a quiet hand. He introduced himself as Paul Riker, a Beverly Hills insurance broker, but the tremor in his voice said very worried client, which on New Year's Eve was something I could do without.
Paul Riker: Mr. Marlowe. You've got to find Nancy Marshall for me,
Marlowe: Just for a springboard, Mr. Riker, who is Nancy Marshall?
Paul Riker: She's my fiance. We were to be married at my place in Beverly Hills tonight.
Marlowe: On New Year's Eve?
Paul Riker: Yes. You see it was at a New Year's Eve party a year ago that we met for the first time.
Marlowe: Oh, when's you last hear from her?
Paul Riker: About two hours ago, she called and said that she was in terrible trouble. That nobody, especially the police could help her, that well that the wedding was off.
Marlowe: I see. You're sure it's not just a matter of you're being left at the altar, huh?
Paul Riker: Another man. Oh, oh no, no, I I'm certain that's not it. Now, please, Mr. Marlowe, will you help me?
Marlowe: Mr. Riker? To you New Year's Eve means wedding bells, but to me, it's something else, specifically a cozy little apartment on Wilshire Boulevard, where there's a very nice girl and a couple of chilled bottles of sham ...
Paul Riker: What is it, Mr. Marlow? What, what's wrong?
Marlowe: Shh. There's somebody outside. Get away from that door! Quick!
SFX: SHOTS FIRED
Marlowe: Whoever threw those shots through the frosted glass of my office door wasn't interested in checking up on his marksmanship, cuz by the time I got to my feet, he was taking the stairs to the street. When I got outside, I was just in time to see him plow into a pickup truck and roar off. My best I could do was get a faceful of exhaust fumes and the last three numbers on his license plate, which read 711. When I got back to Riker and the glass on my office floor, I found the potential groom whiter, shakier and less quiet than at our first meeting.
Paul Riker: Marlowe. Did you get him? Do you know who it was?
Marlowe: No. I don't. Now relax a minute, Riker, and think. Who could possibly object to you and Nancy getting married?
Paul Riker: But, but ... that's just it, if there's nobody I know of Mr. Marlowe, and I'm positive that the same is true of Nancy.
Marlowe: All right. Now tell me, where does Nancy live?
Paul Riker: In a Villa at 1428 North Havenhurst Drive, Number 12.
Marlowe: mm-hmm
Paul Riker: But I've already been there and she's gone!
Marlowe: Were you inside?
Paul Riker: No, no. The door was locked, but Mr. Marlowe, I, I thought you had specific plans for this evening.
Marlowe: I do, but the way things stack up right now, they've got a better chance of keeping than Nancy Marshall. Now look, go back to your place in Beverly Hills, stay away from frosted glass windows, and wait 'til you hear from me. We're real lucky. Mr. Riker, it still might turn out to be a happy new year.
When Riker left the office, I called Lieutenant Ybarra at police headquarters. After being told that it would take at least a half hour to get my kind of lead outta the Seven-Eleven I had on the pickup truck license, I headed for Nancy's villa on North Havenhurst where it took me 10 minutes to outsmart the catch on the back door. Inside, except for a carelessly overturned box of old snapshots, which meant nothing to me, and a lot of half open drawers and closets, I was no place. And in the kitchen where there was a full cup of cold coffee next to an open newspaper, the setup was almost the same. Not quite because on the front page of the paper, there was a banner story complete with pictures that shouted the news of three men who had broken outta the state penitentiary that morning. And one of them, a man named Steve Doyle had a face that I'd seen only minutes ago on one of the snapshots and the overturned box. I grabbed the paper and started back to check with the snapshot once again for good measure. But the second I stepped into the living room. I stopped.
Some Dame: Hello? I don't believe I know you.
Marlowe: Oh, the voice matched the lady perfectly. She was tall, beautiful brunette, about 30 wearing a beige metallic wool jersey that covered more curves than a ride on a roller coaster. But the large monogram day on her purse meant that this was not the woman who would plan to marry Paul Riker.
Some Dame: I said, I don't believe I know you.
Marlowe: The name is Arthur Murray. You're late for your rhumba lesson.
Some Dame: Oh ho, never mind the jokes, bright boy. It's a waste of your time and mine.
Marlowe: All right, then we'll play it very straight. Name is Philip Marlowe. I'm a private detective and I'm working for a very worried man. Now you, what's your connection with Nancy Marshall?
Some Dame: I'm just, shall we say, an old acquaintance? That's all.
Marlowe: Not enough. I'll prime the pump some more. I was hired to find Nancy who seems to be in a lot of trouble and coincidentally in trouble on the same day that Steve Doyle breaks out of stir. Now once more. Exactly where do you fit in?
Some Dame: I don't think I'll tell you Mr. Marlowe, if you don't mind.
Marlowe: Well, I—oh! Pearl-handled, huh? How very chic.
Some Dame: But deadly. Now get in that closet there, Marlowe. Go on!
Marlowe: Alright. Alright. Just so we don't go through the same routine when we meet again and we will. Who are you?
Some Dame: You don't listen very carefully, Marlowe. I've already told you that I'm an old acquaintance. It's the season for them, remember? Now, get in there and shut up.
Marlowe: Nancy Marshall's villa was post-war construction at its worst, closets included. So I didn't stay tucked away with the mothballs any longer than it takes to say old acquaintance. The minute I'd kick my way out, I went right for the telephone and my only 100% bona fide lead for number 711.
Lieutenant Ybarra: This is Lieutenant Ybarra.
Marlowe: Marlowe, Ybarra. Anything for me on that license number?
Lieutenant Ybarra: Oh, yeah. If you're sure it was a pickup truck, the chances are pretty good that it either belongs to a party named Maurice J. Calda at 409 South Main or one Jerome Graf, 3221 and a half Melrose Avenue.
Marlowe: Check.
Lieutenant Ybarra: Uh what's up Phil? Anything I might be interested in?
Marlowe: It depends. Ever hear of a guy named Steve Doyle?
Lieutenant Ybarra: One of that gang that broke out this morning?
Marlowe: The very same. Matter of fact, he's probably driving that pickup truck right now. But look he bore it. I think I know what I'm doing. So how about letting me run this end of it until I get stuck? There's a girl named Nancy Marshall mixed up in this and a delay at this time might cost her her life.
Lieutenant Ybarra: All right. I'll stay clear Phil for a while.
Marlowe: Good.
Lieutenant Ybarra: But just so you don't get too careless, remember. Dole got outta jail this morning the hard way. He killed two guards.
Marlowe: Oh fine.
Lieutenant Ybarra: Goodbye, Marlowe.
Marlowe: When I got to 409 South Main, I knew that my first choice had to be wrong because Maurice J Calda turned out to be a bankrupt junkman and his pickup truck, which was loaded with everything, including the kitchen sink, had three flat tires and hadn't moved in a week. So if the numerals 711 were gonna live up to their reputation,...