This tobacco executive is about to discover that humiliating people
can be dangerous to your health.
Who killed him?
Was it the unscrupulous advertising genius?
Quicksilver shouldn't be in television.
The long-suffering assistant?
Her husband's a Navy man, away from home 10 months out of the year.
The loved-starved secretary?
Why don't you try to find out who tried to kill me?
The beautiful creative director?
Punch, power... it moves!
Or was it someone else?
Match wits with Ellery Queen
and see if you can guess who done it.
[Saloon piano music playing]
Be quick on the draw... with Quicksilver cigars.
Yes, sir, hit the pleasure bull's-eye every time...
...with Quicksilver cigars.
That's Quicksilver every time for real cigar-smoking pleasure.
Really sensational, Mr. Long.
Punch, power... it moves!
It has visual impact, Mr. Long.
Shows the product.
It's exactly what we need to get the sales back on the track.
Bull!
Whack!
Okay, let's wrap it up.
Silly gimmicks!
I'll tell you what we need. We need impressions!
Millions of impressions.
Print. Radio. That's what reaches the people.
Television is just a frivolous, expensive playtoy.
But the television sets are selling like hotcakes.
Nonsense!
I don't know anybody who owns one of those silly little boxes.
Oh, but, Mr. Long...
You know, that's why they passed you up and put me in charge, Manley,
because I'm not gonna waste Quicksilver's budget
on some experimental playthings.
You're right, Mr. Long.
Quicksilver shouldn't be in television.
And you, Crabtree,
you'd better come up with something better than this
or your whole agency is out!
Lowell Thomas.
We need somebody like Lowell Thomas.
- Yes. - You're right, sir.
I've come up with a new idea.
It needs a little polishing.
I've a stockholders meeting tomorrow.
Now, I want something on my desk,
and I want it good, and want it out there at 3:00 this afternoon.
3:00? But that's not enough time.
Time?
Time is money, Horace. Make every second pay.
That's how I got to the top!
Four hours' sleep... that's all I need.
Three at night, and one hour before lunch.
It takes 17 minutes for me to eat at my desk,
and I don't squander two hours for lunch like some fellas I know.
Now, at 3:00, in my office, and it better be good,
or you'll all be looking for work!
Right. We'll be there. And you're really gonna love this new idea, sir.
Uh, Mr. Long...
Do you have room for a passenger in your limousine?
Well, I think I can make room for a lovely lady such as yourself.
I thought you and Rita were sharing a cab.
Yeah. Yeah. That's what I thought.
Looks like our television plans have laid a goose egg.
Temporary setback. Doesn't mean a thing.
This is the medium.
Just Long isn't ready for it yet.
Did you get what you needed from the station manager, Mr. Flannigan?
Yowza, sweetheart. Another socko column tomorrow.
Get this. Flannigan Flash...
"Cops-and-robber shows
will never be accepted by the general public on television
because nobody wants to see violence in their living room."
What's this great idea you've got for the 3:00 meeting?
I'll think of something. I usually do.
Frank Flannigan!
Hiya, Jer. Got any uptown dirt for me?
What's the matter? Have I got gravy on my tie?
Do you know you have a professional-sounding voice?
- Me? - Yeah.
You ever think of doing a radio show?
- Radio? You're pulling my leg. - What are you driving at, Jerry?
Look, Horace,
he does the most popular newspaper column in town, right?
I mean, he gives the needle to everybody, from the mayor
right on down to the chorus girls at the Roxy, right?
- Okay, but I still don't... - Human interest! Personalities!
Instead of having him write about all those people,
we actually have him interview the celebrities live on radio.
Give 'em the heat on the air like he does in his column.
But I'm a newspaperman.
You're already a newspaper legend. We're gonna make you a radio star!
I doubt if we can come up with a better idea before 3:00.
Let's do a work-up on it... meet in at your office, 1:00,
have lunch, put some hair on it.
Frank, we'll meet you 1:00 at the Quicksilver Building,
and take care of those tonsils.
But I don't think you understand.
See, I just want to know if a cigar can be hollowed out
to make a blowgun for a poisoned dart.
You see, I'm writing a mystery story.
I'm sorry. The Research Department doesn't have that kind of information.
Excuse me.
But...
Try Advertising.
If they can't help you, try Public Relations.
Better yet, try some other tobacco company.
Hiya, Junior.
What brings you to Quicksilver Tobacco?
A little research. But nobody seems to want to help me.
Never fear... Flannigan's here. I'm in tight with all the big brass.
Matter of fact, they're sponsoring my new radio show!
- Radio show? - That's right.
If they can meet my terms. Come on.
Hiya, Florence.
Tell everybody that Frank Flannigan's here.
Oh, Mr. Flannigan. Mr. Crabtree phoned.
He won't be able to make lunch today.
Oh?
Tuesday. Cold-plate special. Hiya, Florence.
FLANNIGAN: I thought we were eating out.
Oh, that's Mr. Long's lunch.
He always eats alone in his office right after his nap.
Very rigid schedule.
Yeah, well, tell Horace that I'm here and ready to talk turkey.
I believe Mr. Manley's already eaten.
- Already eaten? - Uh, Flannigan...
He brings his lunch. He has to be careful what he eats.
- An ulcer, you know. - Maybe I better just run along.
- But wait a minute. - See you tomorrow, Florence.
Wow!
That's the fastest lunch I've ever seen!
- What is he, a man or a machine? - Oh, those are yesterday's dishes.
I wash them up and keep them in a cupboard in Mr. Long's office.
Oh, yeah, I get it. Saves the waiter a second trip.
- I think I'll just grab a hamburger. - No, I'm sure they said lunch at 1:00.
Yes, Mr. Sheldon. I'll tell him.
Mr. Sheldon says for you to go ahead without him.
- He's being detained. - I'll see you later, Flannigan.
Now, hold it, Junior. Flannigan never welches on a lunch.
Have you ever had the linguini at Mama Maria's?
- No. - Come on. I'll even pick up the tab.
Oh, Mr. Flannigan! Glad you could make it.
Hi, Manley. I was beginning to think something was wrong.
Crabtree and Sheldon both said they couldn't make lunch.
This is Ellery Queen. He's sort of my copy advisor.
Look, I've already eaten, but...
Well, I'd like to join you. We can discuss our project.
Good. I've got a few sensational ideas myself.
Fine. Oh, I've got to leave these for J.B.
Excuse me.
He's having lunch.
Well, he can read these while he's eating.
What do you mean, copy advisor?
Not so loud, Junior. I'm trying to get you on retainer.
I don't want to be on retainer.
MANLE Y: Yes, I'm sorry, Mr. Long. Have a nice lunch.
He wouldn't even talk to me.
Would you mind? When he's finished?
I'll see he gets them, Mr. Manley.
Look, Horace, I've got a few ideas we can run up the flagpole.
- Feel free to jump in any time. - MANLE Y: Well, fine.
Don't get me wrong, hey, Jim.
Winston Churchill's a nice enough fella,
but you just can't understand those limeys on the radio.
Well, all this is subject to Mr. Long's final approval.
- Any calls, Florence? - No, Mr. Manley.
Did Mr. Long get to see these figures?
Well, he was in such a vile mood
that I thought I'd wait until he called me into his office.
Well, he must see them. Please, take them in there right now.
QUEEN: Mr. Manley, thank you very much for lunch.
Thank you.
FLANNIGAN: I suppose we'll work out the financial arrangements
after we get a firm go-ahead, huh?
[Florence screams]
Please, don't touch anything. I'm afraid he's been stabbed.
Tell those lab guys that I want them up here right away.
What do you make of it, Ellery?
The waiter brought the tray in at 1:00.
Looks as if Long went in to wash his hands after he ate,
and somebody stabbed him.
- I'd say it was somebody he knew. - Well, how do you figure that?
Come here, Dad.
There was still soap on Long's hands,
which means he was stabbed while he was washing them.
- Okay. - But look at the mirror.
Now, he had to have seen whoever came up behind him.
Right.
But he was stabbed in the back.
Now, if it was somebody he didn't know,
or somebody who didn't belong in the office,
he would have turned around.
I'll buy that.
- That's strange. - What is?
The watch.
It's the right time. What's so unusual about that?
But, Dad, the crystal is facing away from the body.
Nobody puts their watch back that way.
Hmm.
Dad, this is Florence Ames, Mr. Long's private secretary.
Hello. Did you see anybody come into this office?
The waiter, at 1:00. No one between 1:00 and 2:00.
Well, that's not quite true.
Horace Manley came in for about 30 seconds,
and that was just after 1:00.
- I mean, except for that. - And you never left your desk?
Well, of course, I went to the powder room.
Other than that?
And I did go to the storage room to get coffee.
Then, anybody could have come in.
The victim, you've been with him for some time?
Several years.
He brought me with him
when he came to Quicksilver six months ago
as advertising manager.
Over Manley's head, that was.
Yes, I think it was a big disappointment for him.
Where did Mr. Long keep the letter opener, Miss Ames?
- Mrs. Ames. - Mrs. Ames.
He always kept it on the desk, right next to the pencil caddy.
He was a man of meticulous habits and strict routine.
Thank you, Mrs. Ames.
We'll need a complete statement from you later.
Yes, Inspector.
Hiya, Inspector.
I just phoned the Gazette with another Page 1 Flannigan scoop.
Ellery, Manley was the last person to see Long alive.
I'd like to talk to him.
Well, his office is right through that door.
How convenient.
Oh, now, hold it, Inspector.
Manley's the guy that's gonna put me on the radio.
Flannigan, I want to show you something.
Well, look! Look!
I know this is gonna be difficult for all of us, but...
Could I have a word with you, Mr. Manley?
In just a moment. I'm almost wrapped up here.
Crabtree, I want you to handle the contract.
- Day after tomorrow at the latest. - Consider it done, Horace.
Rita, I want your best design... appealing, dignified.
- Masculine. - Right...
- Mr. Manley. - In just one minute, please.
Max, I want you to really punch up the copy,
award-winning-caliber stuff.
I'll think Pulitzer Prize.
Oh, it's 10 to 3:00, Mr. Manley.
You're gonna be late for your appointment.
- Dad? - Yes, Ellery, what is it?
The one thing I require in a secretary is that she be accurate.
- You're five minutes past. - Oh, I'm sorry.
Mr. Long always kept his watch five minutes ahead,
a habit I picked up.
I hate to throw a pall on this meeting,
but I'd like to remind you that a murder has been committed.
Excuse us, Inspector,
but we have a minor advertising crisis to cope with.
I guess this means you won't be doing my radio show.
Yes, Flannigan, the radio show is out.
Sure, I get it.
Just because Long's dead, all bets are off.
No, you don't get it.
We're gonna pull out all the stops.
We're gonna do The Frank Flannigan Show.
On television.
But, Inspector, I'm late for a meeting!
Mr. Manley, your next meeting could be at the police station.
That's ridiculous. Long was alive when we left for lunch.
Your son can vouch for that.
Oh, no, no, no, no. I didn't actually see him.
- No, but I did. - Well, I'm sorry, sir.
We only have your word for that.
You could have dumped the lunch down the toilet.
If you ask me, he never ate it.
It's no secret that I hated Long.
But if you arrested everybody that hated James Bevin Long,
you'd have to get yourself a new jail.
Besides, Florence had the best opportunity.
Florence? Why would Florence want to see Long dead?
Long's appetites weren't limited to power.
I always thought that those naps before lunch were...
...unnecessary.
But Florence is a married woman.
Her husband's a Navy man, away from home 10 months out of the year.
- Are you implying that...? - I'm not implying anything.
But Florence could have been alone in the office with Long
at the time of the murder.
Let me ask you something. What did Long keep in his safe?
I haven't the foggiest idea.
I suggest you ask Florence about that.
Oh, I intend to. Where is she?
She's in the studio. Now, look, Inspector,
unless you're gonna press formal charges,
I've got to get back and do my work.
If one of you lovely young gentlemen with muscles
could come over here and move this desk for me, please?
Now, bring the desk upstage. Upstage.
Shove it onto the mark. Push it onto this mark.
That's good. Oh, you're it, aren't you, darling?
Thank you very much.
Well, what do you think of it? Isn't it marvelous?
It's beginning to take on a certain ambiance, don't you think?
You're going to be wonderful in this.
You have that lovely face, don't you?
Of course you do. Excuse me.
- Hey, you wanna neck? - What?
You must excuse the young'un, Ma'am. He's a might feisty.
PUPPET: The stool, toots. You're sitting on it, and we need it.
Oh, I'm sorry. Do you want to rehearse?
- Unless you got any better ideas. - Mrs. Ames?
- Yes, Inspector? - Cheese it! The cops!
May we speak to you privately?
Sure.
- Is this cozy enough? - Just like home.
Almost.
Mrs. Ames, we have reason to believe
that you haven't been exactly frank with us
about your relationship with your boss.
Was it anything more than just professional?
- Inspector, I'm a married woman! - I'm aware of that.
I was Mr. Long's secretary for several years... nothing more.
I'm surprised you'd listen to malicious gossip.
I'm willing to listen to anything
that has any bearing on this murder investigation.
Mrs. Ames, do you know what was in Long's safe?
No, I do not.
And as for your insinuations, I think you should talk to Rita Radcliffe.
If you ask me, she was using more than her creative talents
to hang on to her job.
Rita Radcliffe and Long?
Even Mr. Long's chauffeur knew about it.
Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Manley's waiting for these figures.
I'm gonna have another talk with Manley.
You better check with that chauffeur.
I saw him in the parking lot when we came in.
Excuse me. Excuse me.
Were you Mr. Long's chauffeur?
Yeah, sort of.
I work for the company. I was assigned to Long.
Now I'm assigned to Manley.
Between you and me and the lamppost,
it's not gonna be as interesting.
You a newspaper reporter?
No, no. My name is Ellery Queen.
I'm helping the police
in the investigation of Mr. Long's murder.
Yeah?
- Yeah. - No kidding.
Well, if you ask me, it was a dame.
Oh, yeah? Why do you say that?
You see things in the rearview mirror, if you know what I mean.
Do you know a Miss Rita Radcliffe?
She was one of 'em.
Many's the time I transported her pulsating platitude
to a rendezvous with the boss.
- A real ambitious tootsie. - Ambitious?
The Radcliffe tomato wanted the Quicksilver Tobacco account.
But she works for Crabtree Advertising.
Sure, but she's got plans to set up her own shop.
Long was gonna give her the Quicksilver account?
Nah.
The smiling cobra was just stringing her along.
He turned her down flat in the limousine this morning.
She was really steamed.
Threatened to stop his clock, if you know what I mean.
I think I do, yeah.
What were her exact words?
Let me see.
She said, "I'm gonna kill you for this, you... blank."
Blank?
I forget the word. It's a new one.
- I'd never heard it before. - You moron!
You wouldn't understand any word
that had more than two syllables in it!
I ought to squash you like a bug!
Excuse me. I got to gas up.
I'm sorry, Ellery.
You don't mind if I call you Ellery?
But that weasel has been out to get me
ever since I tipped Mr. Long
that he's been cheating on the gas and repair bills.
What did he say about me?
Oh, he said you wanted to take over the Quicksilver account
and open up your own agency.
Ellery, the advertising game is a jungle.
Besides, J.B. Wasn't happy with Crabtree.
Anyway, it was only an idea.
Well, the chauffeur also said that you threatened to kill J.B. Long.
But that was only a joke!
I mean, J.B. Was a tough guy. He admired tough talk.
A girl has to play a man's game in this business, you know.
Miss Radcliffe, where were you between noon and 2:00?
Well, let's see. I got back at Crabtree's around noon,
and then Jerry called one of his panic meetings over the Flannigan show.
We kicked that till around 1:00. Almost 1:00.
And then we each separated and went back to our individual offices
to work out the details.
Mm-hmm. So, you and Max Sheldon
were with Jerry Crabtree from noon to 1:00.
That's right.
Did anybody see you in your office from 1:00 to 2:00?
That was lunchtime.
I was in my office alone with the door closed.
No, I don't think I spoke to anyone.
Ellery, you don't think I killed him, do you?
Mr. Sheldon, have you got a moment?
Yeah, for the famous writer Ellery Queen, I've got a minute.
Don't tell anybody, but I'm one of your fans.
No kidding. I was just gonna tell you that I'm a fan of yours.
You wrote the movie script for "Macedonian Falcon," didn't you?
Mm, a lot of water down the pipe since then.
Oh, you were terrific! I always wond...
Well, why you're not doing movies anymore.
It's no big secret. The sauce.
I drank my way through three studios in less than half a year,
so now I write about crunchy, crackly candy bars.
It's a living.
Is this the script for the new Flannigan show?
Yeah. I don't like anyone reading my stuff.
- I'm sorry, Mr. Manley. - Being sorry is no excuse!
Look, I demand accuracy.
If you can't do it, I'll get somebody who can!
I'm sorry. I'll do it over.
Mr. Sheldon,
on the day of the murder, was there a meeting
at the Crabtree Agency roughly between noon and 1:00?
Yeah, Rita, Crabtree, and me.
Did you see either Rita or Crabtree from 1:00 to 2:00?
No, I went back to my broom closet to create.
Excuse me, I've got to go scrounge up some paper.
- Oh, it's been a terrible day! - It's okay.
I want you to go home,
and I want you to call me when you get there, okay?
All right.
Manley picks up the letter opener,
and in a fit of rage, gets himself a promotion.
And the lunch?
He ate it when he went back in his office.
- In 30 seconds? - Well, who else have we got?
Well, Dad, there's Florence.
Now, I checked with the Navy Department,
and her husband's an officer on an aircraft carrier.
He's due back from sea duty next week.
If there was hanky-panky between Long and Florence,
that could be a motive.
[Telephone rings]
Yeah.
Velie, where are you?
I'm at the morgue. The medical examiner just finished.
Did he establish the time of death?
Yes, sir. Between 12:00 and 2:00 p.m.
That's as close as he can call it.
Did the autopsy reveal the contents of the stomach?
Yeah, roast beef, potato salad, custard, and coffee.
- Stay there for a copy of the report. - Yes, sir.
- Long had lunch. - Which the waiter brought at 1:00.
So there goes your theory about Manley.
Well, back to the old drawing board.
Maybe we better have another talk with Florence Ames.
[Knock at door]
INSPECTOR: I guess she's not at home.
I can hear the radio. The lights aren't on.
- Is the young lady at home? - What's it to you?
Look, Pop, this is a respectable apartment house.
- You got a key to this apartment? - Sure, sure.
Say, what's all the excitement? She's probably just sleeping one off.
- Sleeping what off? - I empty the trash 'round here.
- I know when somebody drinks. - Open it up. I'll take responsibility.
Yes, sir.
[Radio playing]
Oh, boy. I hate to see this.
[Switches off radio]
Dad, she's been drugged.
Hello. This is Inspector Queen.
Get an ambulance and a doctor
over to 953 East 34th Street, Apartment 2B.
Looks like attempted suicide. Probably barbiturates.
Let's look for a note. This thing's beginning to add up.
Lucky you got here when you did, Inspector.
I've got her stomach emptied, and she'll be all right.
Thanks, Doc. This may wrap up another murder case for us.
I wonder where she kept the barbiturates.
Maybe over here.
So, little Florence pulled a Dutch act, huh?
Now, what are you doing here, Flannigan?
Listen, every ambulance driver in town
knows he can make a fast sawbuck
by calling Flannigan when there's a hot story.
Did she leave a note confessing?
We haven't found one yet, not that it's any of your business.
- Oh, Inspector, don't be that way. - Dad, I think I found something.
Addressed to James Bevin Long.
A woman's handwriting.
I don't like to read other people's mail.
Then I'll read it.
[Florence groans]
FLANNIGAN: Well?
INSPECTOR: They're signed "Florence."
I'll spare you the purple prose.
FLANNIGAN: Florence and Long?
That's got to be the romance of the year.
Take it easy. You're gonna be all right.
INSPECTOR: My guess is these were in Long's safe.
Florence's husband was coming home.
Long was holding these over her.
She had motive, opportunity...
I think we've found Long's killer.
Mrs. Ames, you've had a narrow escape.
I think I know why you took those barbiturates.
Want to make a statement?
No barbiturates.
Yes, I'II... I'll give you a statement.
Someone tried to kill me.
My husband was away.
I was Ionely. It just happened.
If only I hadn't written those letters.
He threatened to show them to your husband?
When I found out about Mr. Long's other women,
of course I wanted to quit.
But he wanted me to stay and spy on Mr. Manley.
He was really very insecure.
I got the picture. Your husband was coming home.
Long refused to give you back the letters.
You went to his office.
You pleaded with him. He laughed at you.
Suddenly, the letter opener was in your hand!
What a story!
No, no!
Why don't you believe me?
Why don't you try to find out who tried to kill me?
Mrs. Ames, why would anyone try to kill you?
I don't know.
But somebody put those drugs in the vodka
and hid those letters here in my apartment.
INSPECTOR: Oh, come on, Mrs. Ames.
If someone tried to kill you... and I say "if"...
you must know something you're not telling us.
You were very upset when you left the studio this afternoon.
I noticed you were talking to Max Sheldon.
Mr. Queen, this isn't easy to admit,
but lately, with all the pressure, well, I...
I've developed a little drinking problem.
Max recognized the symptoms.
He's in Alcoholics Anonymous, and he was tying to help me.
Anyone else know about your drinking?
Dad, do you think we could provide Mrs. Ames with police protection?
No.
At least until we get things sorted out, huh?
Dad, it's obvious somebody did try to kill Florence.
There were enough barbiturates in that bottle of vodka
to knock off the Giants football team.
In the bottle, yes, not in her stomach.
It's a play for sympathy.
She's trying to throw us off the track.
Dad, if we hadn't found her, she'd be dead right now.
Who knows how much she swallowed?
If you wanted to commit suicide, you'd swallow the pill,
then wash it down.
- Why put the drugs in the vodka? - That's exactly my point.
She's trying to divert suspicion away from herself.
Ellery, you're too gullible when it comes to women.
And another thing, Dad.
If she did find the letters in Long's safe,
why didn't she burn them? It doesn't make sense.
She had motive, opportunity,
and the boodle from Long's safe was at her place.
I should have booked her last night.
Inspector...
The press room is on the third floor, Flannigan.
Inspector, I've got an idea that's super-rific.
You throw Florence in the slammer, then come on my show tonight
and announce that you've got the killer behind bars.
I had Victor Mellow lined up to talk about his latest picture,
but we'll work him in after you. What do you say?
Are you out of your mind, Flannigan?
This is my case, and I'll arrest somebody when I'm ready.
As far as that show of yours is concerned,
if you think I'm going on television and let you make a monkey out of me,
you've got another thought coming.
Well, if that's the way you feel about it,
I'll get the commissioner.
He knows what good press relations are.
INSPECTOR: Out!
[Door slams]
Hiya, Max. Nearly finished?
Yeah, it's another lollapalooza.
Oh, Max,
I don't believe you're writing for The Frank Flannigan Show.
This page looks more like a movie script to me.
What's to write for, Flannigan?
A couple of introductions. He'll ad-lib the rest.
So, you caught me in the act.
I'm changing one of my old movie scripts into a live TV drama
for the Quicksilver Playhouse.
- A new show? - With any luck, it will be.
Crabtree's pushing it, and Manley's ready to go.
Look, they got big plans for TV,
and I'm trying to crawl up on the bandwagon.
Let me tell you,
it's a great feeling putting honest words on paper again.
You didn't come here to talk shop, Ellery.
What's the plot line?
Somebody tried to kill Florence by spiking her vodka.
Yeah, I know that.
No, don't tell me you think it was me.
I've got a hunch Florence knows something.
Or saw something that might point a finger to Long's killer.
Or maybe she's just trying to cover up for someone.
Maybe she doesn't realize what she knows.
So?
So, you know she had a drinking problem.
I saw you have a very heavy discussion with her yesterday
out in the lobby.
Ah, now! Now I get the scenario.
I killed Long, and then in the second reel,
I rub out Florence to cover my tracks.
No.
It won't play, Ellery.
Poor character development.
I've got no motive.
No?
Max, you were trying to get back in the big-time
by writing television scripts for Quicksilver.
When Long turned thumbs-down on TV,
then that left you with crumbly, crackly commercials.
Okay, so I was glad somebody stuck a shiv in Long,
but I'm not the only one who knew that Florence hit the sauce.
No?
Look, Queen, I've been there, the whole route.
Need a little bracer to carry you over the rough spots.
You keep a bottle in your desk drawer,
maybe another one in the glove compartment.
You drink vodka so nobody can smell it.
You think nobody knows.
Let me tell you, everybody knows.
That's why I was gonna help her.
Everybody at Crabtree used to joke about it.
Look, if you're looking for a heavy, try casting Jerry Crabtree.
Crabtree? What would Crabtree gain from Long's death?
15% of a million-dollar ad budget.
Just before the meeting in his office,
I heard Crabtree on the phone with Long.
I think Crabtree tried the Flannigan radio idea with Long
and got turned down.
I think Long told him he was gonna lose the account.
- All right. Pastrami on rye. - Here.
Uh, excuse me.
- Oh, ham and Swiss yours, right? - No.
May I talk to you for just a second?
Oh, hey, look, buddy, see, it's lunch hour.
I got to keep moving, you know? I make a living on tips.
You delivered Mr. Long's lunch, did you?
Uh, right. Tuesday.
Cold plate special, mustard on the side.
So, look, you want the ham and Swiss?
- It's all I got left. - No. No, thanks.
Did Mr. Long say anything to you when you brought him the lunch?
Oh, sure. Big conversation.
He said, "Put it on the desk," like always, you know.
That's all?
Yeah. Well, what do you expect? I mean, he was in the john.
See, I heard the water running, so I figured he was washing his hands.
Hey, look, I'm not making any tips standing around here.
Hey, thank you very much, sir. Thanks a lot.
But, Dad, there's a piece missing. Somewhere.
I wish I could figure out what it is.
Are you gonna watch the Flannigan show tonight?
I've got better things to do with my time,
like finding James Bevin Long's killer.
Dad, do you still think Florence did it?
Now, let's not re-hash that.
[Intercom buzzes]
Yeah, Grace.
Mr. Crabtree is here and would like to see you, Inspector.
Send him in, please.
Inspector...
I don't want to take up too much of your time.
What can I do for you, Mr. Crabtree?
If it's a parking ticket, you better call your alderman.
No, actually, I'm here out of concern for poor Florence.
Poor Florence?
Florence Ames.
She has terrible problems. She needs all the help she can get.
I'm sure the authorities will see to it
she gets the best of care wherever they send her.
What makes you think we're going to arrest Florence Ames?
Well, I can't help thinking that if you do arrest her for murder,
tonight's TV show would be
a perfect place to make it known to the public
because of the tie-in with the sponsor.
Every cloud has a Quicksilver lining.
Extremely well-put.
You could have had a brilliant career in advertising, Inspector.
Mr. Crabtree, I understand
that Long was gonna change advertising agencies.
Ridiculous!
Mr. Long was perfectly content with the way we handled his operations.
I mean, the Flannigan show tonight should be a big hit.
Everybody's talking about it.
Yes, but Long didn't want to get into television.
He didn't always know what was best for him.
As you know, Mr. Queen,
I was at the agency when Mr. Long was killed.
According to our information, your meeting broke up around 1:00?
No, I remember distinctly that Rita, Max, and I
worked straight through to nearly 2:00.
Really?
Much closer to 2:00.
[Intercom buzzes]
Yeah, Grace?
Inspector, the commissioner is on the phone.
Just a second.
- Would you forgive me? - Oh, not at all.
I've got to get back to the studio. Fare thee well, gentlemen.
Bye.
Yes, Commissioner.
How are you?
Oh, that's good. What can I do for you?
Oh, sure, sure, sure. I guess so.
If you want me to go on the television show, I'll do it.
You're welcome.
Dad, you were shanghaied.
If Flannigan wants a scoop, I'll give him one.
I'll strangle him right on the air.
Ellery, what am I gonna do on a television show?
Look, if you could prove that Florence Ames killed Long
before air time...
Oh, good grief, what am I saying?
Good evening, America.
This is Frank Flannigan,
your rough and ready correspondent from the New York Gazette.
Hey, go easy with that stuff!
I don't want to look like a sissy. I got my image to think of.
Without makeup, your image is gonna be a very pale shade of gray.
Look, ease off, will you?
Let me go over my script.
Don't worry! I wrote it all down on these big cards.
Are you kidding? I don't need those cards.
I've got a memory like a bull elephant.
Let me ask you something, Vera.
Should I sit like this...
...or like this?
What's my best side?
They're both good, F.F.
Yeah, that's what I was thinking.
Have you seen anything
of Inspector Queen or Victor Mellow yet?
No, but I'm sure they'll be here. Just relax.
Now, will you cut that out!
Okay, now, the cooking show starts in two minutes,
followed by the weather, then you're on, Flannigan.
Hey, hey.
Are these lights always this hot?
Hey, Flash, if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.
You sure he hasn't called? Inspector Richard Queen?
- No, sir. - It's not like him to be late.
[Continues]: Oh, boy.
That reminds me. I haven't eaten.
- What? - Huh? Oh, nothing.
Where is he?
He'll make it, Flannigan. Don't worry.
Well, he better get here quick.
I'm gonna put Victor Mellow on first.
Just get him in here as soon as he shows up.
Oh, boy.
Good evening, Mr. And Mrs. America.
This is Frank Flannigan, your rough and ready reporter
from the New York Gazette.
Who's that?
That's you, Flannigan.
That's the way you look on television.
You're kidding!
Where'd I get that fat, white face? I look like a dead squirrel!
Vera!
Where have you been?
It's almost time to go on the air, and there's nobody here but me!
I've been over watching the butter commercial.
I brought you some coffee, F.F.
I don't want any.
I'm losing my marbles, and you're bringing me coffee!
I'm sure you'll want this coffee, F.F.
It's the kind of coffee you drink in the office.
Vera, you're a good secretary.
I just spoke to Victor Mellow's agent,
and there's been some kind of mix-up.
Victor's going to be interviewed by John Cameron Swayze,
so he won't be here.
[Spits out coffee]
Have some more coffee.
That's funny.
Something wrong with the set?
No, it's the timing.
She put that pie in the oven before the commercial.
Now it's baked. It's all ready to eat.
Oh, Mr. Queen, it's only a 15-minute show.
There isn't time to bake a pie.
There's another pie that's already baked,
and she changes it during the commercial.
Oh, I see.
Of course!
Well, have you figured it out?
If you've been watching closely, you've probably worked it out, too.
Was it Florence?
Max the copywriter?
Or did Jerry Crabtree stab Long?
How about Horace Manley?
Or did Rita Radcliffe make good on her threat?
Or was it somebody else?
No, it wasn't Flannigan, and the waiter didn't do it.
I'll give you a hint. It's later than you think.
Junior, where's your pop? I need him in a hurry!
That was Inspector Queen.
There's a tie-up on the Triborough Bridge,
and he's gonna be late.
He can't do that to me.
One minute, Mr. Flannigan.
Junior, you got to fill in for your pop.
I don't know anything about television.
There's nothing to know.
I'll do all the talking. You just say things like "Yes. No."
No.
There's nobody else.
- 30 seconds and you're on. - Please, Junior, I'm begging you!
Well...
Super-rific!
Hey, Tim, looks like we got some kind of last-minute change out here.
You better get ready to wing it.
Okay, and cue commercial.
[Saloon piano music plays]
Be quick on the draw...
with Quicksilver cigars.
Yes, sir! Hit the pleasure bull's-eye every time...
...with Quicksilver cigars.
Now, stay loose, Junior. Don't fade on me.
And now,
the Quicksilver Tobacco Company presents
The Frank Flannigan Show!
Okay, two, and cue Flannigan.
Good evening, America.
This is...
Frank Flackle...
...your rough and...
...and...
...rough and ready reporter of the New York Gazette
with the first of my hard-hitting inquiries into topics
of urgent interest to viewers across the country.
My first guest tonight is Inspector Richard Queen.
Ellery Queen,
the famous mystery writer
and authority on crime.
Well, Mr. Queen, I understand the New York police
are about to make a big breakthrough
on the James Bevin Long murder.
I understand that at this very moment,
they're about to arrest the dangerous dame
who committed this dastardly deed.
No.
No?
Well, according to my exclusive sources,
I understand the crime has been solved.
Well, actually, I think I know who killed J.B. Long.
You do?
Well, would you tell our viewers who the police are arresting?
Um...
The police aren't arresting anyone, at least not yet.
But you have a theory.
Would you tell our viewers your theory about it?
Well, sure.
Just follow me for the next few minutes.
Uh, you remember?
The waiter brought Long's lunch in at 1:00,
and the autopsy showed
that he'd eaten before he was stabbed.
Well, sure. That was in the Gazette.
Right.
All right. Stay with him.
Several people had motives to kill Long.
Jerry Crabtree was afraid he'd lose the account.
Rita Radcliffe even threatened to kill him that morning.
And Max Sheldon might have killed Long
to get the advertising budget over to television.
They held a meeting at the Crabtree Agency
from noon to 1:00.
But after 1:00,
none of them can account definitely for their whereabouts.
Horace Manley was alone in his connecting office
from 12:00 to 1:00,
and Florence sat alone outside Long's door.
And they both had motives.
But Long was killed between 1:00 and 2:00, after he ate.
That's where it gets interesting.
Let me show you a layout of the offices.
ELLERY: This diagram should make everything clear.
[Ellery writing on chalkboard]
This is the layout of the offices.
Now, Long's body was found here in the bathroom.
The access was either here through Long's door
or here through Manley's connecting door.
Now, we well assume that Long was killed after 1:00
when the lunch tray was brought in.
The waiter didn't see Long...
But they found the lunch in his stomach.
He had to eat it.
ELLERY: Oh, he ate the lunch, all right.
But it wasn't the lunch the waiter brought in.
He was dead by the time that tray arrived.
See, the murderer was in the bathroom.
With the water running so as to disguise his voice,
it was the murderer who called out, "Put it on the desk."
That's only a theory, Queen.
Well, let's just see, Mr. Crabtree.
When I examined Long's watch,
it was backwards in his pocket with the crystal facing out.
Someone must have handled it. Why?
While I was watching the cooking show,
it occurred to me...
there were two meals.
Now, Long always slept between 12:00 and 1:00.
Sometime after he fell asleep,
somebody came into his office and set his watch ahead to 1:00.
Now, remember,
Long always ate the same thing each day of the week.
It was part of his routine.
The clean dishes from yesterday's lunch were in the cupboard.
The murderer had already brought in a cold plate special,
knowing that that's what Long ate on Tuesdays,
and he put it on one of the clean plates in the cupboard,
and he set it on the desk, and he woke up Long.
Long looked at his watch. He looked at the food.
He thought it was 1:00, and so he started to eat.
Actually, it was just a few minutes after noon.
When he finished eating, he...
I'm pretending that this is the bathroom,
just for the purpose of demonstration...
he went in to wash his hands.
That's when the killer stabbed him.
The plot's too complicated, Queen. Save it for one of your books.
So, let's say Long was really murdered around 12:30.
Now the first lunch is in his stomach,
the killer cleans off the plate...
...puts it back in the cupboard.
Now...
The waiter comes in with the second meal at exactly 1:00.
The killer was in the bathroom with the water running,
calls out, "Put it on the desk."
The waiter sets it up on the desk, crosses over to the cupboard...
...takes the clean dishes from yesterday...
...and he leaves.
The murderer was in the bathroom, dumps the second meal in the toilet,
puts the dish in front of Long,
and everybody assumes that Long has eaten
what the waiter brought in.
Preposterous, Queen!
Long was alive after 1:00 when I went in to see him.
Sorry.
That alibi only worked when we thought that Long had lunch at 1:00.
Florence mentioned earlier that you brought your lunch in a carton.
That's how you were able to bring the first cold-plate special in.
Everybody else had an alibi at the time that Long was killed,
but he was already dead when you popped in and out of the office.
You killed him.
VELIE: Get him!
Not so fast, Manley.
It was foolproof!
Even you and Flannigan showed up to give me an alibi!
I don't understand.
What went wrong?
Well, you tipped your hand when you tried to kill Florence.
It was easy enough to plant the letters in her apartment,
but why try to kill her?
I couldn't figure that out.
And then I remembered something.
When I took Florence's pulse, her watch was five minutes fast.
That's true. Mr. Long always kept his watch five minutes ahead.
I was the only person who knew that.
Well, you must have let it slip to Manley.
Yes, I... I think I did.
He'd set Long's watch back
to the exact right time after the murder,
not five minutes fast.
Now I see why I was a threat to him.
Velie, take him down and book him.
Yes, sir. Let's go.
Get Flannigan for the sign-off.
We're running a little late, folks.
But there you have it... another Flannigan scoop.
The J.B. Long murder wrapped up live on The Frank Flannigan Show.
This is Flannigan in the flesh signing off for Quicksilver cigars.
See you next week, guys and gals.
You handled yourself okay, Junior.
I told you it'd be a smasharoo first show.
Well, the late Inspector Queen.
How did you like the premiere?
- Ellery was fine. - Thanks.
It was marvelous! Absolutely marvelous!
Congratulations, Frank. Looks like you got a winner there.
And, Mr. Queen, you were brilliant. Unorthodox, but brilliant.
You really think it went okay, huh?
All you got to worry about is what you're gonna do next week.
Telephone. The special line. It's for Mr. Crabtree.
Oh. Of course.
Hello. Crabtree here.
Yeah, put him on.
Next week, Vera, see if we can get General Eisenhower.
I've got a Flannigan hunch he's gonna try for the Democratic nomination.
Uh, Frank?
It was the chairman of the board of the Quicksilver Tobacco Company.
Really excited, huh?
He wanted to know why you were smoking a cigarette
on the Quicksilver Cigar show.
INSPECTOR: Did he like the show?
CRABTREE: Loved the show, hated Flannigan.
I still think a newspaper man on television, nifty notion.
Maybe we can get Ed Sullivan.
Ed Sullivan?
Old wooden face? That zombie wouldn't last two weeks!
Maybe a variety show. Dancers, singers, jugglers...
Enjoying your smoke?
You call that a cigar?
It tastes like the inside of a lumberjack's boot!
Come on, Dad.
Let's go home.
We can still catch I Love a Mystery.
On the radio.