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Radio-play
Transcripts
The Adventures of Inspector
Stagg
"A Greenhouse Divided"
Transcribed & Edited by
E.O.Costello
| National
Broadcasting Company transcription "The Adventures of Inspector Stagg" East Coast broadcast Saturday, July 16, 1938, 1830 Gnu York time over the Red Network [GRAMS: Train bell] Announcer: Ladies and Gentlefurs, that bell means safety and peace of mind, the kind of safety and peace of mind you can always find along the thousands of miles served by the Interstate Public Service Company. But this bell... [GRAMS: Telephone bell] Announcer: That ringing telephone bell means mystery! Adventure! [GRAMS: Telephone bell, then telephone being answered] Det. Sergeant Orrin F.X. Brush: Constab'l'ry 'tective Bureah, Sergeant Brush speakin'...oh, hey Doc...yeah...oh? Well, yeah, but that don't sound t'me like no...well, iffen ya say so, Doc, we gots a lotta respec' fer yer word an' all...whazzat? No foolin'? Hunh, howdja like dat. Well, yeah, I'll warns 'im, sure t'ing. Dunno how he's gonna take it, but I'll tells 'im. See ya in a bit, Doc. [GRAMS: Telephone being hung up] Det. Inspector Franklin J. Stagg: Was that Doctor Meffit, Sergeant? Brush: Yeah, he wuz callin' from Southie. Onea his patients gone an' got hisself stung up by some flyin' t'ing, swells up an' nearly kicks it. Stagg: Hardly our department, Sergeant. Brush: Dat ain't th' way Doc Meffit figgers it. See, he figgers th' bug wuldn't zack'ly werkin' 'lone, iffen ya falla me. Oh, an' one other t'ing... Stagg: What's that? Brush: Seems as tho' we gots a big-shot from Gnu York mixed up in dis. A big-shot private de-tec-tive... [MUSIC: Opening bars of Saint-Saens' "Danse Macabre"] Announcer: Interstate Public Service Company presents "The Adventures of Inspector Stagg," based on the characters created by E.O. Costello and M. Mitchell Marmel. [Music fades down] Announcer: The last thing you need to worry about, when you're traveling on summer holidays, is the safety of you and your family. But when you travel on the trains of Interstate Public Service, that's one thing you'll never need to worry about. Interstate Public Service has recently completed its 5-year, $50 million modernization program. As part of this program, Interstate is operating a brand-new fleet of all-steel cars, outfitted with the latest in air brakes and other safety engineering. Likewise, the signalling systems of Interstate have been upgraded to incorporate the latest in safety engineering. And our staff has undergone rigorous training in safety and emergency procedures. There's a pleasing bonus to all of these efforts to improve Interstate's safety: they mean that more than ever, when you ride Interstate, you'll ride in cars that run faster, smoother and better than ever before, taking you and your family to your destination in comfort. Leaving you to worry about only one thing: did you pack the sunscreen? So remember, for safety and security in your travel, go rested, go relaxed...go Interstate! [Music bridge] Announcer: Detective Inspector Franklin J. Stagg was once the Chief of the New Haven State Police, until a revolution broke out there, destroying everything he had, including his wife and doe-fawns, hung by the cruel executioners of the new regime. Stagg escaped, but was forced to start his life all over again in the far away Spontoon Islands of the North Pacific. Helped by his trusty assistant, Detective Sergeant Orrin Brush, Inspector Stagg works to overcome his tragic past by doing what he does best...fighting crime and bringing evildoers to justice! Tonight's story is called..."A Greenhouse Divided." [Brief musical bridge] [GRAMS: Sound of vulpine footpads, sound of irregular cervine hooves and walking stick] Brush: T'ing dat had me scratchin' my head wuz why Doc Meffit didn't want t'meet us on Southie...naw, he wanted t'meet us at Shepherd's Hotel. Dat's th' ritzy four-star hotel over on Casino Island. Didn't make no sense t'me. Th' Inspect'r, his ears wuz twitchin', likes he wuz t'inkin. So I keeps my mout' shut. [GRAMS: Sound of door opening, sound of glasses and subdued talk] Brush: Well, we met th' Doc at th' bar of Shepherd's Hotel. It wuz kinda hot outside, so th' two of us, we didn't make no complaints 'bout it. An' Meffit bought a round. Nice bein' a doc who specializes in rich furs, hanh? Stagg: Cheers, Doctor. Thank you for the hospitality... [GRAMS: Sound of drinking] Stagg: ...though the story I heard second-paw, from Sergeant Brush, puzzles me somewhat. Could I hear the story afresh? Doctor Meffit: Oh, certainly Inspector, certainly. How familiar are you with Horace Kit? Stagg: Hmmmm. Only a vague knowledge of the name. South Island tends to be rather peaceful, so I'm rarely called there. Doctor Meffit: Well, unless you are interested in flowers, Inspector, you're not likely to have run across this gentlefur. Stagg: I take an interest in flowers, Doctor, but only as an occasional appetizer. Doctor Meffit (chuckles): Quite so, Inspector, quite so. But this gentlefur raises flowers for the eye, not the stomachs. In his small field of expertise, he has a loyal following. Stagg: What is his expertise? Doctor Meffit: From what I gathered, and from what I saw, it's the raising of orchids. Specifically, orchids native to this part of the North Pacific. He has a very well-equipped and up-to-date greenhouse on South Island, you know. That's where I saw Mr. Kit this afternoon. Stagg: I was given to understand from Sergeant Brush that an allergic reaction was involved. Doctor Meffit: Yes, Mr. Kit received a bee-sting on his neck, toward the back. Apparently, he has a fairly severe allergy to bee-stings. It's rather lucky for him that I keep antihistamines in my medicine kit. His throat was on the verge of closing over, and had I not already been on the island, I could well have been too late. Another five minutes, and Mr. Kit could well have been dead. Stagg: But he's alive? Doctor Meffit: I had him transferred to my clinic on Meeting Island for observation. He may need a few days to recover fully. His face and tongue are quite swollen, and he has great difficulty in communicating. Brush: Even writin'? Doctor Meffit: He's quite weak and dizzy, Sergeant. I can't say I'm surprised. Stagg: What does surprise me, Doctor, is that you would choose to discuss this with me. Something appears to be worrying you... Brush: Yeah, he wuz right. Th' Doc, he's normal-like real cool, you knows them types. I could see 'im, though, fiddlin' wit' his glass an' polishin' his glasses, nervous-like. Doctor Meffit: Well, Inspector, I of course made some enquiries as to what happened, and I got the most confusing story. There was also the matter of the greenhouse itself, which was in a state of total disorder. Very puzzling, especially when you consider that Mr. Kit has orchids whose bulbs are valued in the hundred of dollars per bulb... Brush: Kinda pricey fer a lunch. Th' restaurant here at Shepherd's serve 'em? Doctor Meffit: Well, really, Sergeant. I wouldn't make jokes like that. This is quite a serious matter. In fact, that's a reason why I wanted to meet you here. You see, Mr. Kit had a customer this afternoon, one who has come all the way from Gnu York. I would question him myself as to what happened -- strictly for the medical history of course -- but...well, I'm not ashamed to tell you that I find the gentelfur's name alone to be quite intimidating. Stagg: Indeed? Quite a remarkable fur, then. The name? Doctor Meffit: Uhm...Nero Foxe, Inspector. [Musical sting, then brief musical bridge, with Brush's narration under it.] Brush: Me, I didn't know this fur from nothin'. But I looks over at th' Inspect'r. I sees his jaw set real firm, an' I sees a look in his eyes. A real cold look, th' kind ya don't see in deer dat often. An' his knucks on his stick wuz white. Yeah, th' Inspect'r knew this mel, okeh. But I wonders from where... Stagg (very coldly, with enunciation): Sergeant, I think we are needed upstairs. Ask the desk clerk for Mr. Foxe's room number. [less coldly]. Thank you, Doctor Meffit, I will take it from here. Doctor Meffit: Errrrr...you, um, know Mr. Foxe? Stagg: Strictly professionally, Doctor. And I have every intention of keeping it that way. [Musical bridge] Brush: So, anyhoo, th' desk clerk tells me dat dis Mr. Foxe, whoever he is, has onea th' fancy top-floor suites at Shepherd's. Dat's high-livin', lemme tellya. We takes th' elevatah, on accounta th' Inspect'r, he can't take no stairs wit' his busted hoof. We gets up dere, an' th' door t'th suite's unlocked, so we strolls on in, unannounced like. Someone's layin' down th' law in a loud voice, lemme tellya... Nero Foxe: Archie! Archie Goatwin: You bellowed, sir? Foxe: I would like you to have a word with the alleged chef d' hotel of this establishment. Archie: (sighs) What now? [GRAMS: Audibile and somewhat ominious creaking of a chair] Foxe: It concerns the rubbish served to me this morning under the guise of breakfast. Archie: Ohhh boy... Foxe: Less mouth, more ears, if you please, Mr. Goatwin. Archie: My, you MUST not have enjoyed breakfast much. Foxe: Indeed. Now, then. You are to inform Chef Joseph concerning my explicit instructions about the meal. The eggs beurre noir are to be made with SEVEN eggs. No more, no less. Anything less than Parma ham is a travesty, particularly the Cincinnati rubbish he attempted to fob off on me. And for the prices being charged, I expect a ration of ham which can be served on something larger than a soda cracker. Archie: Got it. The food is lousy, and such small portions. Foxe: Are you mocking me? Archie: Every chance I get. Anyhow, I think you exaggerate, Mr. Foxe. Foxe: Exaggerate? Did you SEE my breakfast? Archie: Well, I saw the two native bearers bringing it in. Foxe: Your heavy-handed attempts at sarcasm, Mr. Goatwin, are as appreciated as little as usual- [GRAMS: Door opening] Foxe: Good heavens, man! Shut that door! Do you wish me to catch my death? Archie: Is that a trick question? [GRAMS: vulpine footpads] Archie: May I help you, er-? Brush: I'm 'tective Sergeant Brush. Spontoon Islands Constab'lary. Foxe: And to what do we owe the dubious pleasure of your company? Brush: Aw, yer a real comedian, aint'cha? Comes natural-like to a fat guy, whatever ya weighs... Archie: One seventh of a ton, give or take. Foxe: Never mind that. Well, sir? What is the reason for this intrusion? Stagg: That would be my doing, Mr. Foxe. [GRAMS: Irregular step of cervine hooves, walking stick] Foxe (somewhat less bombastically, but with mild heat): Incredible. Franklin...Junius...Stagg, in the fur, such as it is. Stagg: (annoyed snort) Foxe: I was under the impression that you were ...*deceased*. Stagg: You sound a trifle disappointed. Foxe: Merely...well, it would seem the much vaunted competence of the Red Fist in New Haven must come into question now. Stagg: (slow hiss through teeth) Brush: Hey, now, none a'dat. Foxe: As it is most unlikely this is in the nature of a friendly social occasion, perhaps you would be good enough...er-hum, what is your current title? Stagg: Detective Inspector. Foxe: Dear me, a demotion. Perhaps you would be good enough to state your business and depart, Inspector. Quickly. Stagg: It would be my pleasure, Mr. Foxe. The air in here is not fit for breathing. Can you account for your whereabouts this morning? Foxe: Mr. Goatwin here can supply you with particulars. I breakfasted here in my suite this morning... Archie: Unhappily... Foxe: I then risked my well-being by venturing outside to visit a gentlefur regarding a business transaction. This occupied me until approximately 11.40, at which point I returned to this hotel suite and, precisely at five past noon, had something vaguely resembling food for my mid-day meal. Make a note, Mr. Goatwin. The staff should be rebuked for the meal's lateness. Archie (sarcastically) Oh, I'll get RIGHT on it, Mr. Foxe. Stagg: (clears throat) Mr. Goatwin, I take it that you can corroborate this statement? Archie: In painful detail, Inspector. There are other things I'd prefer to look at other than orchids... Foxe: Pfui. Stagg: Ah. Then your appointment was with Mr. Horace Kit? Foxe: And this is your concern because-? Stagg: Mr. Kit became seriously ill today, Mr. Foxe, not long after you left his premises. The attending doctor found the circumstances suspicious. and asked me to investigate them. Foxe: Merciful heavens. Now I'm a murder suspect. Will you be placing the pawcuffs on me now or later? Stagg: I doubt there is a jail cell here that could hold your body, Mr. Foxe. And nothing on this Earth could contain your ego... Foxe: (growls ominiously) Stagg: By the way, what makes you think this was murder? Foxe: The unhealthy gleam in your eye, Inspector. However, the fact that Mr. Kit has fallen ill distresses me. He is the only grower of the Domino. Brush: Th' wha? Yez can grow dominoes? Archie: Mr. Foxe is, of course, referring to the rare Krupmark Domino Orchid... Foxe: Indeed. Ansco panatonicus, glossy black with white markings. A very rare species, extinct in its native land. Brush: An' yez wanted t'buy this posie? Foxe: I was in the midst of negotiating the purchase of a dozen bulbs. Mr. Goatwin can supply you with the relevant correspondence. Stagg: Were these negotiations successful? Foxe: They had not yet been concluded, but I had every hope of success. Now, if you gentlefurs will excuse me, I have some important matters to attend to. Archie, show the Sergeant and his companion to the door. Brush: Lissen, ya got a problem wit' th' Inspector? Foxe: ...I have a 'problem', as you so eloquently put it, with all murderers of the orchid. Good day. [Musical bridge] Brush: Foxe's shadda, th' goat, showed us outta th' room, an' closed th' door on th' mounda blubber. Archie: You'll have to excuse Mr. Foxe. Brush: Do I gotta? Archie: Well...no. Brush: (snorts) Archie: In any event, the correspondence between Mr. Foxe and Mr. Kit regarding the orchid bulbs is here in this folder... Stagg: Sergeant, if you would be good enough, please take charge of this matter. The atmosphere in this suite is proving to be rather bad for my stomach. Keep me posted as to your progress... [GRAMS: Irregular cervine hooves, opening and slamming of door.] Brush: Okeh, I'm missin' somethin' here. Archie: That makes two of us. Now, Mr. Foxe does get cranky when he has to leave his home and venture into the wild...but this is crankier than usual. I'm afraid to ask what the reason is. I might not like it. Brush: Ehhh. Same here. Archie: Say...are you going to the greenhouse? It may not be (mock British accent) entirely cricket, old boy, (regular voice) but if something's going to happen that will interfere with Mr. Foxe getting his paws on those orchids, I'd better know about it for my own safety. Brush: Awright, but keep yer paws t'yerself, an' no crackin' wise, hear? [Brief musical bridge] Brush: Now me, I'd known 'bout this fancy greenhouse. Never bin innit, tho. No real reason, see? Kit always kept his nose clean, didn't give nofur no trouble. Didn't know nothin' but his kids, tho. [GRAMS: Door opening] Brush: Youngish minkess answers th' door, lookin' at us curious-like. Wunner if she wuz expectin' us, since she'd dressed nice, an' brushed her tailfur. Yeah, I noticed dat. Gonna make somethin' of it? Angeline Kit: Good afternoon. May I help you? Brush: Afternoon, I'm Sergeant Brush, from th' Constab'l'ry, an' dis is... Archie: Someone who's very charmed. Archie Goatwin. We met earlier today, Miss Kit, but I didn't get your first name. Miss Kit (giggles): Angeline. Archie: Ahhh. A lovely name. Brush: Uh-hanh. Okeh, tea an' sammiches later, hanh? I gotta ask a few questions, Miss. Mind if I ask 'em? Miss Kit: Of course, Sergeant. Please come in. Brush: I dunno how he done it, but dat Goatwin character somehow got hisself in before me, an' got th' ringside seat fer th' questionin'. He's payin' real close 'tention t'th' dame, too. My mate Kiki, she's laid down a few rules fer me. I can look, but I keeps my paws t'myself. An' Kiki's much bigger'n me, so you bets yer bottom dollar I ain't steppin' over dat line. [GRAMS: Pages of notebooks flipping.] Archie: So, how is your father doing, Miss Kit? Miss Kit: Oh, the doctor says he should be home in a few days. He's under sedation now, Mr. Goatwin. Archie: Oh, please. Archie. Miss Kit (giggles): Archie. Brush: Y'know, I don't wanna bust this up, but I gotta ask a few questions, Goatwin. Ya mind? Now, Miss, I seen ya met Mr. Goatwin. An', I figger, his boss, Mr. Foxe. Dat right? Miss Kit: Yes, Sergeant, they had an appointment for 9.30 this morning, and were here until just before quarter to noon. Brush: What wuz they doin'? Miss Kit: Mr. Foxe was discussing the acquisition of some rare Krupmark orchids from my father. He was examining some specimens very closely. Brush: An' what was Goatwin here doin'? Miss Kit (giggles): He was examining me very closely, Sergeant. Archie: Guilty as charged, Sergeant. Brush: I'll just bet. Anyhoo, anyfur else in th' greenhouse? Miss Kit: Hrmph. Just my brother, Harry. Hanging around, and not doing his chores. I had to do his *and* mine this morning, and if he thinks he's going to get away with that, I... Brush: Awright, I get th'... Archie: This would be the mink with the headfur over his eyes, right? Miss Kit: Not brushed in days. There's a lot he doesn't do during the day, since he's basically a night mink. Brush: Yeah, yeah, well...he was 'round, den? Miss Kit: Only for part of the time Mr. Foxe was here. *I* was doing my chores...that is, when Mr. Goatwin wasn't looking at me. Archie: Sergeant, do you mind if I ask Angeline a few questions? Brush: Well, I... Archie: Angeline, what happened after Mr. Foxe and myself left your father? Brush: Hey, dat's my... Miss Kit: Well...Archie...Father went around inspecting the various plots inside the greenhouse, checking on the health of the orchids. I was working on repotting some flowers... Archie: What? And spoiling those pretty paws? Miss Kit (giggles): I was wearing gloves, of course. Anyway, I was busy with that when I heard my brother call out... Brush: Just a minnit...what had this guy...uhhh, Harry, been doin' all dis time? Miss Kit: I couldn't say, Sergeant, exactly. They were just talking at one point. It was then that I heard my brother cry out, and start running about. My father also started rushing about, rather panicked. It wasn't very clear at first what was going on, until my father yelled something about bees. Archie: Bees? Miss Kit: Oh, yes. He's horribly frightened of them, you know. Allergies and all. I'm allergic to them, as well. Brush: So what happened? Miss Kit: Well, there was a lot of banging and crashing, with things getting knocked over, until I guess we chased the bee out of the greenhouse. Or at least, I thought we did. I saw my father lying on the floor of the greenhouse, gasping for breath and moaning. I thought he'd been winded, until I got close to him, and saw that he was pointing at his neck. I saw the stinger in there, and knew that he'd been stung, and things were going to be serious. I managed to get my worthless brother to telephone Doctor Meffit, and keep Father comfortable until he arrived. Brush: Un-hanh...kay... [GRAMS: Paper rustling] Brush: Let's have a look-see at th' greenhouse. Miss Kit: Well, Sergeant...and Archie...the place is still a mess, you know. I haven't had a chance to clean it up. Brush: S'okeh, I ain't gonna give it th' white glove treatment. Archie: And Mr. Foxe would want me to check on the Dominoes. He has his priorities, you understand. Brush: Yeah, sure-sure. [Musical bridge] [GRAMS: Door opening noisily, with a metallic screech] Miss Kit: This is the greenhouse. As I said, I haven't had a chance... Archie: That's all right, Angeline. I'm not fussy. Brush: Jeez, who came t'ru here, a herd a'elephants? Pots busted all over th' place, I seen a table turned over dere... Miss Kit: Well, it was quite chaotic, Sergeant. We're all deathly afraid of bee stings, you know. Runs in the family. And...ick, excuse me... [GRAMS: Sharp metallic sound, striking wood] Miss Kit: Well, I got him, at least. Brush: Who? Archie: Our chief suspect, aka the bee in question. Battered beyond recognition, but he's missing his stinger, all right. Brush: Great. I'll call th' queen o' th' hive, have her make an I.D. Say, where's dem Domino t'ings, anyhoo? Miss Kit: That's them over there, Sergeant. At least the flowering ones. [GRAMS: Sets of fox footpads, minkess footpads, and goat hooves] Brush: Heh. Domino. Looks more like a hard eight t'me. Miss Kit: Sorry, Sergeant? Archie: Sergeant Brush is making an allusion to the sporting world, Angeline. Miss Kit: Oh... Archie: Very pretty, indeed. Brush: Ya referrin' t'th' posy, Goatwin, or somethin' else? Archie: A gentlefur never tells, Sergeant. Brush: Aw, brudder. Sheesh, Goatwin, yer boss gonna lay out long green fer dis? Archie: Not these, exactly, Sergeant. Only after they've flowered. The bulbs we want to buy are over...or, at least, *were* over here- Angeline, did you move the bulbs somewhere safe? Miss Kit: No, I...oh, my. That's horrible. Archie: You can say THAT again! If I have to go back to Mr. Foxe and tell him he's left his Gnu York brownstone and come thousands of miles for nothing, things are going to get very cranky, very fast. Miss Kit: And they're worth nearly $500 a bulb. Brush: Five *hunnert*?! Each?! Miss Kit: Well, they're very rare, and...oh! Archie: What? Miss Kit: You'd better find my brother. He might have an explanation. Or then again, he might not. Brush: Don't like 'im, hanh? Miss Kit: He's a lazy good-for-nothing. Probably boozing it up somewhere on Casino Island, right now. Brush: 'keh. Lissen, ya kin wadder th' plants, but don't move nothin' 'bout. I'm gettin' some idears this here's a crime scene, see? Miss Kit: Um, all right, Sergeant. Archie: And don't worry, Angeline, we'll track down those bulbs. But if we can't, may I come here to hide from Mr. Foxe? Miss Kit: (giggles) Brush: Sheesh. [Musical bridge] Brush: First t'ings first. I calls t'HQ, an' has somefur in records do a look-see on our boy Harry Kit. Nottin' serious, mind, 'ceptin' a buncha drunken punchups, an' th' fact he's been barred from a buncha places fer runnin' tabs too long. High-livin' rascal. Leastways, kinda narras down th' joints where he could booze it up. Goatwin tags 'long wit' me. Archie: [Hums to self, happily] Brush: Hey. Archie: Hmm? Brush: What gives wit' yer boss? I mean, him 'n me are carnivores, like, but dat don't 'splain why he don't like my boss? Archie: Couldn't rightly say, Sergeant. Brush: Looks like it goes deeper'n flowers, hanh? Archie: It also seems to predate my employ to Mr. Foxe. I don't recall the good Inspector dropping by for tea. Brush: Yea, ye'd remember smashed-up teapots, wouldn'tcha? Awright, here's th' first joint our boy's likely t'be... [Brief musical bridge] Brush: Took me 'n Goatwin a few t'find our boy. Fourth joint we wuz at, guy complains 'bout Harry Kit tryin' some sorta scam, sellin' $50 onions. Tossed 'im out on his tailfur. So we manages t' track him after a few more joints. [GRAMS: Door opening, sound of glasses] Archie: Ah, look, there's our boy, enterprising as ever. And from the loud flowered dress on the fur he's talking to, it looks like he has a customer... Harry Kit: Look, miss, these would be wonderful in your garden. I should know, I've been in the business all my life with my father. You'll get the most wonderful, amazing flowers you've ever seen, and no one has flowers like these... Tourist: Well, I don't know... Brush: Sound advice, lady. Archie: Well, it certainly looks like you know your onions, Mr. Kit. Kit: Don't bother me, you two, I...errrrrr. Brush: 'bout dis time, Kit gets a good look-see at my right paw. An' lil' ol' Headache Maker dat I got in it. Archie: Ooooh, nice trick, Sergeant. You must be a hit at parties. Brush: Only th' ones where furs don't behave. Speakin' a which, let's have a lil' chat in dat booth over dere, Kit. Kit: Hey, take your paws *off* me... Archie: You know, Kit, I'd do as the nice Sergeant says. I have it on good authority he doesn't play nice with others. [GRAMS: Sound of body hitting booth seats] Brush: Whatcha got in dat bag, Kit? Kit: They're mine. Brush: Dat ain't what I ast ya. Lemme repeat it. Whatcha got in dat bag? Kit: Okeh. I have orchid bulbs. Archie: Ooooh. They're all the rage, you know. My boss is looking for some, too. May I see...awwww, look at the little darlings. You wouldn't think they were worth $500 each, wouldn't you? Kit: Look, they're mine. Brush: Funny, but I don't t'ink yer pop's gonna agree. Dat is, whenever he gets bedder. Kinda interestin' he's sick, ain't it? Kit: Ask my sister, she's the smart one. Archie: One imagines. I don't think she sells flowers in saloons. Kit: Look, I'm telling you, these are mine. I own 25% of the business, just like my sister. My father owns the other half. And Angeline has her eye on that half, let me tell you. She's always wanting to change the way we do business, and... Brush: So, what, ya figger on givin' yerself a dividend-like? Ain't dat convenient. Wunner how many bar tabs that'll pay off, hanh? Kit: So what? I have a right to these bulbs. If you want to arrest me for it, go ahead. Brush: Oooh, ain'tcha eager for th' pawcuffs? Say, lissen, we hears dat you wuz goin' huntin' fer real big game t'day. Kit: Huh? Archie: The good Sergeant, in his sarcastic way, is commenting on the fact that you instigated a bee hunt in the greenhouse earlier today. What about it? Kit: Oh, that. Yeah. All of us, we're allergic to bee stings. Funny for a family that raises flowers, but there you are. I saw one in the greenhouse, and, well, I panicked. So did Pop, and so did Angeline. I mean, we were all crashing around...I know I knocked Pop down at one point, and Angeline was hanging on to him for dear life and screaming. Brush: Dat a fact? How hardja knock yer Pop down? Kit: What's that supposed to mean? Brush: Aw, yer a bright boy. I mean, you bin sellin' onions, ain'tcha? Kit: Look, I don't know what you're playing at, but I... Brush: Hey, who saw dat bee in th' greenhouse? Yer pop, yer sis, or you? Kit: Unnnnh. I dunno, I did, of course. Archie: Who else? Kit: I dunno. I think the others did, I don't know. Brush: How long wuz it b'tween you playin' ninepins wit' yer pop, an' t'ings bein' found out 'bout th' sting? Kit: Well, it was all within a few minutes, I... Brush: Tellya what. Why don't ya give me dem pretty bulbs. Don't worry, I'll keep 'em nice an' safe fer ya. I'll even give ya a receipt, see? Oh, yeah. An' go back t'Southie, an' don't leave dat island, hear? [Musical bridge] Brush: Th' mink busts outta dere faster'n ya know. I goes over t'a flower shop run by onea my cousins, and I gives him th' bulbs fer safekeepin'. I'd use onea th' hotels, but I figger ol' Foxe might wanna go shoppin' dere, so... Archie: Well, I'd better go back and report to Mr. Foxe. Brush: I kin getcha a good deal on a shark spear. Archie: Don't tempt me. Aren't you going to save it for your boss? Brush: Naw, he just sorta gets quiet-like. Archie: They're the most dangerous type, Sergeant. Brush: I'll takes my chances. You finds out somethin', ya tell me, 'keh? Archie: Anything for the greater good of the orchid business, Sergeant. Brush: Ain't it nice t'see a fur who's got his priorities... [Musical bridge] Brush: Me, I goes back t'HQ. I decides dat somethin' or udder is th' better parta valor, get my drift? Lucky we gots th' sec'tary for me 'n th' Inspect'r, t'sorta act lookout. [GRAMS: Door opening, sound of typing, which stops when Brush speaks] Brush: Hey, Ciss. Say, is th' boss 'round? Cicely Lopp: Yes, Sergeant, he's in. [lowers voice] What have you been doing to him? He's been frowning and glowering all afternoon. Brush: Beats me, Ciss. But if ya hears me screamin', call a cop, wouldja? [GRAMS: Door opening, sound of stick being tapped against the floor, door closing] Brush: Uh. Aft'noon, sir. [GRAMS: Sound of stick tapping against the floor] Brush: Aft... Stagg: I heard you the first time, Sergeant. Brush: Oh. Just come back from doin' th' old Q an' A 'bout dat Kit matter. [GRAMS: Sound of stick tapping against the floor] Brush: Uh, ain'tcha... [GRAMS: Stick tapping stops.] Stagg (rather coldly): I take it you let Mr. Goatwin accompany you on your rounds? Brush: Well, uh, yeah, sorta. What's... Stagg (rather coldly): I see. [GRAMS: Stick tapping resumes] Brush: Hey, lissen, somethin' eatin' ya? All I'm tellin' ya is... Stagg: Hopefully just the facts, Sergeant, free of embellishments. And the sooner the better. Brush: Now me, I dunno what t'makea dis. I mean, he don't treat me like dis, normal-like. He's gotta, well, you'll 'scuse th' expression, he's gotta bee up his tailfur. I ain't none too happy 'bout dis kinda at'tude, but I gives him what I learns. [GRAMS: Stick tapping against the floor.] Brush: Ummm, is dere anyt'ing else ya want I should...? Stagg: Yes, I would like you to be quiet, take out your notebook, and write down some things I want you to do. Brush: Hunh? Stagg: Note...book, Sergeant. Brush: Yeah, but I...aw, skip it. 'keh, I'm ready, sir. Stagg: I need you to find out what young Mr. Kit was doing in the greenhouse, and more importantly, what he was wearing while he was doing that. *Exactly* what he was wearing while doing that. Brush: Okeh, gottit. Stagg: I want you to get me a copy of whatever legal document there is on the ownership of the greenhouse and all of the plants in it. I assume there are at least three copies, one for each of the Kits. Brush: Okeh, legal docs. Gottit. Stagg: Next, I would like you to call Dr. Meffit, and enquire about any injuries, no matter how minor, that Horace Kit had when he was examined. Brush: Okeh, skull th' doc. Gottit. Stagg: Lastly, I want you to go to Herr Nerzmann's down the street. I know he has a copy of a volume entitled "Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, with Some Observations Upon the Segregation of the Queen." Please fetch it. Brush: Unnnh. Okeh. Stagg: Fine. Good afternoon, Sergeant. Brush: Hunh? [GRAMS: Stick tapping against the floor] Brush: Awright, awright, I'm goin', I'm goin'. Sheesh. [Musical bridge] Brush: Anyhoo, Herr Nerzmann...he's th' ol' Austrian mink what owns th' bookstore down th' street, he rents out a room t'Stagg when he ain't stayin' wit' Rosie Baumgartner...he knew what book th' boss wuz talkin' bout. I fetches it back t'HQ, an' gives it t'Ciss. She's th' sec'tary, she oughta do dat. Ain't sportin', I know, but dat stick wuz startin' t'get on my nerves, y'know? So, anyways, I'm down on Casino, checkin' up a few t'ings, when I sees Goatwin comin' outta th' Casino Island library. Archie: Oh, hello, Sergeant. I've been sent on an errand to help inform Mr. Foxe's mind. Not improve it, mind you. You can't improve on perfection. Or so Mis-ter Foxe implied. Brush: Hey, yer boss bin actin' odd? Archie: With Nero Foxe, "odd" is a somewhat loose term, Sergeant. Brush: All I kin say is dat my boss's been actin' real peeved 'bout somet'in, an' I doesn't know what. Archie: Darned if I know. I tried asking Mr. Foxe, and got about thirty seconds of adjectives about your boss without any facts. There's a fascinating history there, somewhere. Brush: Bound t'be more interestin' dan dat book I brung him. Same book as youse got, I see. Archie: Ohhhh, yes. Must be flying off the shelves. I think I'll write the solution on the first page and spoil it for the next reader. Brush: Heh. Yeah, well, I dunno th' solution t'dis job. My boss has a few t'ings he wants me t'run down. Archie: Mr. Foxe gave me a list, too. Shall we exchange lists, just for laughs? Brush: Yeah, well, I kin use a laugh, right 'bout now. [GRAMS: Sounds of paper shuffling] Archie: Well, well. Great minds think alike, Sergeant. Brush: I gots two an' six dat our bosses ain't gonna agree wit' dat, Goatwin. Archie: Ah, well, you understand, Sergeant. Such is the nature of geniuses. Well- let's feed the geniuses, shall we? [Musical bridge] Brush: So, th' twoa us went t'Southie, an' ast 'round. Seems dat our buddy-boy, Mr. Kit, he was waterin' some plants in th' greenhouse, wearin' nothin' special but his reg'lar shirt and pants an' such. An' no, he didn't have no right t'them bulbs, leastways, dat's how I figger dat document I gets from both Miss Kit an' him. An' Doc Meffit sez th' only t'ing he saw wuz a bad bruise on Horace Kit's shoulder, near th' collarbone. Goatwin an' I take our notes, an' bid our good-byes an' all dat, and I heads back to HQ... [GRAMS: Stick tapping against the floor] Brush: Crimony, dat was gettin' irritatin'. Anyhoo, I tells th' Inspect'r what I learns, an' gives him th' legal docs. I seen dat he got th' book flagged wit' a bit o' paper. So I asks him what he's learned. He sez, an' I quote... Stagg: Hmph! Brush: ...an' stomps outta th' office, an' inta th' night. G'night t'youse, sir. [GRAMS: Door slamming shut] [Musical bridge] [GRAMS: Telephone ringing twice, then being picked up] Brush: Constab'l'ry 'tective Bureah, dis is Sergeant Brush. Archie (via filter): Ah, Sergeant Brush. This is Archie Goatwin. You DO remember, your fellow servant in bondage? Brush: Heh. You calls me up just t'crack wise? Archie (via filter): Oh, no. Well, not primarily, anyway. You see, Sergeant, we need you to break the ice over here. Your boss is presently sitting in a chair, glaring at Mr. Foxe, and producing enough ice to supply all the bars in Manhattan. Brush: Hunh? What's he doin' over dere? Archie (via filter): Aside from greatly irritating my boss, he's present with Angeline...err, Miss Kit, and her brother. If your dance card is free, you might want to stop by for tea, cookies and an arrest. Brush: Awright. Gimmie a few, an' I'll be right dere. See if youse kin keep our bosses from playin' patty-cake, hanh? Archie (via filter): I don't know, Sergeant. Somehow, I think charades as a time-killer would be a bad idea. I don't want to guess at what words they might use. [Musical bridge] Brush: So, anyhoo, I gets dere, t'dat suite dat Foxe's got, an' sure 'nuff, dere's th' whole lot, wit' a const'ble standin' outside. Th' two minks are sittin' in chairs. Waaaaaay 'way from each udder. Ya could chill a fish on how they wuz lookin'. Mr. Foxe had seated hisself behind a desk. He was lookin' daggers at my boss. An' my boss? Well, he wuz sorta lookin' down at 'is hooves, an... [GRAMS: Sound of walking stick tapping against the floor, three times, pause, three times, pause, three times] Foxe (with asperity): *Must* you make that infernal racket, Inspector? [Pause of a few seconds] [GRAMS: Sound of walking stick tapping against the floor, three times, pause...] Foxe: Aaaaaarrrrchie...! Archie: Never mind, boss, Sergeant Brush has shown up. We now have a full house. Shall I dim the lights? Foxe: (heavy sigh) Archie, the only dim item in this room does not have a GE logo stamped on it. Now, if we are all ready, I think the sooner we get this started, the sooner I can devote my attention to more important matters. Archie: Lunch isn't for another two hours, boss. Foxe: Silence is golden. Remember that, Archie. Stagg: Before we begin, I need to give Mr. Goatwin a few things... [GRAMS: Rustle of envelopes] Stagg: There are three numbered envelopes here, Mr. Goatwin. I would like you to open the first and read along as Mr. Foxe gives his learned lecture. Foxe: Pfui. Archie: Come now, boss, you're no stranger to theatrics. [GRAMS: Sound of envelope being torn open, and paper being removed and unfolded.] Foxe: Now then, if we are well and through with the comic short subjects, we can move on to the main feature. This is, of course, a singularly unpleasant matter, as it involves a family squabble. I can't abide family squabbles, as they are inevitably noisy and messy. Be that as it may, circumstances force me to take action... [GRAMS: Ominous creaking of chair] Foxe: That Mr. Horace Kit was incapacitated by a bee sting is beyond question. I see no reason to doubt the diagnosis of the learned Doctor Meffit in this regard. The symptoms are quite plain. Bee stings can be quite nasty. They can bloat and disfigure the face. Stagg: [coughs discreetly] Foxe: Your comment noted, Inspector. To resume. Both Miss Kit and Mr. Harry Kit have stated that the entire family is violently allergic to bee stings. The fact that both parties state this is of interest to me, and I am, likewise, inclined to believe it. Unlike Mr. Goatwin, who is inclined to believe any femme fur that swishes her tail at him. Archie: Well, not *every* femme fur... Foxe: Enough to justify the comment. We introduce two further facts. One, that Harry Kit had a habit of fast living, which had caused him to rack up a number of debts that impinged on his social life. This must be measured against Miss Kit's ambitions regarding the business. Is it not so, Miss Kit, that you believe you can run the business better? Miss Kit: Certainly better than my brother. Not that he does any work around the place, except steal rare bulbs... Harry Kit: Why you little...! Foxe: Silence, please. This is the sort of unseemly squabble I was referring to earlier. To resume: We now introduce the final, and most important, protagonist in our little drama. A certain bee of no name and no fixed abode. Mr. Kit allegedly saw this bee, and drew it to his father's attention. This set off a series of emotional reactions as the parties attempted to track down this insect. This resulted in a lot of confusion, in the course of which Mr. Kit knocked down his father. Is that not correct, sir? Harry Kit: Well, yes, but that was an accident, I swear it... Foxe: We shall see. How is the good Inspector's narrative reading, Archie? Archie: Well, so far, in step like a well-trained chorus girl, boss. Foxe: Harumph. In any event, Mr. Horace Kit, at this point in the narrative, is on the floor. Harry Kit is still hunting for the bee. His loyal sister, seeing her father in some distress, I believe you said he was moaning, Miss Kit...? Miss Kit: That's right, and pointing at his neck. Foxe: Indeed. Whereupon you discovered that there was a bee stinger in your father's neck, and he was apparently suffering from the initial stages of an allergic reaction. Whereupon, you called for medical assistance. Most fortunate that Dr. Meffit was both close by, and had the proper antidote, was it not? Miss Kit: Well, yes. Foxe: The final act was played before an audience of Sergeant Brush, and the no doubt far more appreciative audience of Mr. Goatwin. In which the tiny assasin was located in the greenhouse, and crushed to death, in an act of revenge. Very spirited, Miss Kit. Harry Kit (heatedly): So what? Is that going to get her off the hook, then? Are you going to try to pin this on me? Foxe: Don't derange yourself, Mr. Kit. Emotional outbursts of that kind will shorten your life measurably. Harry Kit: Well, how was my father attacked? If he was attacked at all? Stagg: To be sure, Mr. Kit, your father was attacked. Foxe: Don't interrupt, Inspector. Yes, your father was attacked. By means of a live bee shoved down his shirt collar. The bee reacted with his native instinct, and there you are. Brush: Hey, then who done it? Foxe: A pointed question, Sergeant. Deserving a pointed answer. Miss Angeline Kit. Miss Kit (with heat): What? That's absurd, Mr. Foxe. How could I have handled a live bee? I'm as allergic as father is to bee stings. Foxe: Hence the significance of what you were wearing at the time, Miss Kit. Gloves. Gloves suitable for protecting, as Mr. Goatwin might say, your dainty paws from the dirt of your greenhouse chores. It would have enabled you to trap the bee without injury to yourself. Miss Kit: But my father was already hurt, and pointing at his neck, when I went over to him. What do you say to that, Mr. Foxe? Foxe: I say rubbish, Miss Kit. Your father was indeed hurt, by the clumsy, frantic actions of your brother. But it was not his neck he was pointing at, it was his collarbone, where he had either hit the floor as a result of his son knocking him to the ground, or as a direct result of a collision with his son, it doesn't matter which. Miss Kit: It would be your word against mine, Mr. Foxe. Stagg: The value of your word is open to question, Miss Kit. A beekeeper could tell you that. Especially a famous one like the author of this book. Foxe: If there are any more interruptions of my narrative, Inspector, I shall be most irritated. And as *I* have found, upon reading the standard treatise upon beekeeping, bees, when they sting mammals, leave their stingers in the victim. The injuries to the bee that result cause death within minutes. Miss Kit: So? Foxe: So. You claimed to have killed this bee in the presence of Sergeant Brush and Mr. Goatwin. That is most impossible, as that event took place hours after the incident in question. Such a fabrication bodes ill for your veracity in court, my dear. Miss Kit: What...but...I... Stagg: Mr. Goatwin, has my written narrative tracked Mr. Foxe's verbal narrative? Archie: Well, it doesn't match my boss' flair for the well-turned phrase, but when you get right down to it, yes. Foxe: Bah! Stagg: Then open the second envelope, Mr. Goatwin. [GRAMS: Sound of envelope being opened, papers being removed and unfolded.] Archie: Well...my, my. Brush: What's in dere? Archie: It's something addressed to you, Miss Kit. It's a warrant for your arrest, dated today and timed a few hours ago. The charge is the attempted murder of your father, Horace Kit. [Musical sting, and musical bridge] Stagg: I must advise you, Miss Kit, that anything you say or do may be used... Miss Kit (starting to cry): I didn't mean to do it. I mean, it was just an impulse. Father and I had been fighting over the Domino bulbs...I didn't want to sell them to Mr. Foxe, I wanted us to keep them and breed more, but he wouldn't listen. He was trading away our biggest asset for a fraction of what we could get if we handled things right... Stagg: Sergeant, your pawcuffs, if you please. [GRAMS: Sound of pawcuffs clicking] Stagg: I believe the constable outside can take it from there. Brush: Yeah, sure t'ing. Harry Kit: Ummm...am I free to go, then? Stagg: We shall see if your father wishes to press charges against you regarding the taking of the Domino bulbs, sir. Under the circumstances, it's questionable whether he will or not. Harry Kit: I...I understand. Well, I'll try to convince him to sell the bulbs to you, Mr. Foxe. And give you an appropriate reward too, Inspector. If you'll excuse me... [GRAMS: Sound of door opening, sound of door closing] Archie: Well, that's a productive morning. All this, and with time to spare before lunch. Foxe: I notice, Inspector, that there is the third numbered envelope. A little insurance policy, perhaps, in case you drew the wrong conclusion? [GRAMS: Sound of stick tapping against floor, twice] Stagg: On the contrary, Mr. Foxe. As you can see, I anticipated your solution, and your suggestion for the arrest of Miss Kit. Foxe: Bah! Stagg: I also anticipated the son's reaction to these events. Mr. Goatwin, the third envelope, if you please. Archie: H'm! [GRAMS: Sound of envelope being torn and papers being removed] Archie: Ah! Well, well, Inspector. You're telling the truth. Foxe: Don't talk rubbish, Archie. Archie: No, listen, boss. "In a heated skillet, add two cups of white wine and a tablespoon of butter. Melt the butter until a heated mixture is produced. While this is being prepared, peel the orchid bulb..." Foxe: What?! Archie: [chuckles] "...and with a sharp vegetable knife, quarter the bulb..." Foxe: Great heavens!! Brush: Heh, heh, heh. Archie: "...adding the quarters to the heated mixture. Sautee until the orchid bulb quarters are a light golden brown..." Foxe: Archie!! ENOUGH, I SAY! Archie: "...and serve on a bed of rice..." Foxe: ENOUGH! [Music, then end.] Announcer: When it comes to summer travel, you've got a lot of things to keep track of. Luggage, hotel reservations, where to eat...and yes, even the kids. Keeping track of all of that can take away the peace of mind you really deserve on your holidays. But a visit to any Interstate Public Service station can help you win that peace of mind. Our baggage handling system allows you to ship your luggage safely and securely, without having to worry about how to get everything into the car. You can even ship ahead to your final destination, so that it's waiting for you when you arrive. No worries about loading and unloading your luggage from the train. You can sit back and relax in our comfortable, climate controlled cars, and do the thing that's most important on your holiday...pay attention to your family. And when it's time to eat, you can enjoy a tasty and inexpensive meal, expertly prepared in our new all-electric kitchens contained in every Interstate Public Service dining car. So when you arrive, you're ready to play, free of worries and bother. So remember, when you're looking for peace of mind and ease in your holiday planning: go rested, go relaxed...go Interstate! Interstate Public Service, the routes of the Electroliners. [Music: "Danse Macabre" under the announcer] Announcer: You have been listening to the Inspector Stagg adventure "A Greenhouse Divided," written by E.O. Costello and M. Mitchell Marmel. Sergeant Orrin Brush was played by Jackson Beck, Inspector Stagg by Parker Fennelly, Nero Foxe by Orson Welles, Archie Goatwin by Gerald Mohr, Angeline Kit by Georgia Ellis, and Harry Kit and Doctor Meffit by Don Ameche. The characters of Nero Foxe and Archie Goatwin appear through the courtesy of Rex Stoat. Musical arrangements were by John Urie, and the program was directed by Walter D. Reimer. Tune again this same time next Saturday for another case in the files of "The Adventures of Inspector Stagg." This is Ken Fletcher, speaking for the Interstate Public Service Company. [Music: "Danse Macabre" closing bars] Network announcer: This is the National Broadcasting Company. [Chimes: G-E-C] Network announcer: Stay tuned for "The Sky Shark Adventures," based on the stories by Stu McCarthy, coming up next over most of these NBC stations. Transcribed & Edited by EOCostello |