Spontoon Island
home
- contact - credits
- new - links -
history
- maps - art - story
Radio-play Transcript
The Adventures of Inspector
Stagg
'The Light That Failed'
Transcribed & Edited by
E.O.Costello
| National
Broadcasting Company transcription "The Adventures of Inspector Stagg" East Coast broadcast, Saturday, July 23, 1938, 1830 Gnu York time over the Red Network [Musical Station Identification Tag] [GRAMS: Train bell] Announcer: Ladies and Gentlefurs, that bell means cleanliness, the kind of cleanliness 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: 'tective Bureah, Sergeant Brush speakin'. Oh, hey. How's t'ings in yer department, ya keepin dem smugglers on dere toes...oh? Aw, heck, that ain't right. Holy smoke, that's some escape. Yeah, yeah, we'll look inta it, sure t'ing. [GRAMS: Telephone being hung up] Det. Inspector Franklin J. Stagg: Who was that, Sergeant? Brush: Dat was onnea dem furs from over on Moonie, one of the Rain Island boys. Got a message last night, a motor yacht wuz in trouble, see? So dey goes out dere fast, an' after a while, dey finds th' boat. Stagg: What else did they find, Sergeant? Brush: One fur dead, one fur hurt real bad. Dat guy's at Meffit's shop right now, bein' worked on. Boat's all shot up an' like. Stagg: Any ideas as to responsibility? Brush: Well, lemme tell ya. Guy from Moonie, he sez it wuz pirates... [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: One of the mysteries that confronts the summer traveler is: will it be clean where I'm going? No fur likes unsanitary conditions where they're staying. It sours the mood, and makes you feel uncomfortable. Well, you'll never have that problem with one of the Electroliners of Interstate Public Service. Each day, an army of cleaners goes through each of our cars, vacuuming, scrubbing, sanitizing and polishing. Inspectors hired for the sole purpose of checking up on Interstate's bathrooms ensure that Interstate has the standard in the industry for sanitary conditions. Likewise, the kitchens in our diners are regularly taken out of service to be thoroughly cleaned and disinfected. It's why the food in an Interstate diner is so tasty, nourishing and wholesome. And there's nothing quite like the smell of the freshly laundered sheets and ironed pillowcases in an Interstate sleeping car. So remember, for cleanliness 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..."The Light That Failed." [Brief musical bridge] [GRAMS: Click of hooves and vulpine footpads on hard floor] Brush: So, anyhoo, th' Inspector figgers first stop, dat's gonna be Moonie. Now, unnerstand somethin'. Spontoons, we don't got no navy. We sorta contract it out so dat some furs from a friendly nation, dat's Rain Island, way out east in Seathl, dey sends some furs out wit' boats t'patrol around th' waters, catch furs poachin' our fish, or runnin' stuff dey ain't s'posed t'be runnin. Works pretty good. The RINS furs knows what dey're doin'. [GRAMS: Knock on door] Brush: Our contact is a Spontoonie what got sorta recruited-like inta th' RINS, sorta t'keep t'ings runnin' smooth. Milikonu, a pooch from over on Casino Island, his dad runs a store. Good kid, got his head screwed on straight. Milikonu (off): Come in. [GRAMS: Door opening, faint sound of typewriter, which stops] Milikonu: Ah. Good morning, Inspector. Good morning, Sergeant. Would you like some coffee? I just brewed up a pot. Brush: Heh. Fuel fer th' navy, hanh? Good 'n black, t'anks. Miliknou (gently chuckles): The ensign that doesn't fill the coffee urn is a sorry one in no time. You're here about the yacht, I'll bet. Stagg: Yes, Ensign, we are. Two sugars and cream in mine, please... [GRAMS: Sound of two chairs being pulled out and sat in] Stagg: ...how much have you learned about the incident, Ensign? [GRAMS: Sounds of coffees being poured and stirred] Milikonu: Well, last night, just before sundown, the emergency services team -- they monitor the emergency radio channel used by fishing boats and other shipping -- intercepted a radio message. The message was pretty brief. The sender was only able to radio out a rough position report, and indicate that they were being shot at, before communications were cut off. Stagg: Where was the position? Miliknou: About thirty miles north-northwest of Moon Island, and about one-half mile east of the Shark's Teeth Reef. The local lightship service has a permanent station there, the Vega. Stagg: Rather close. What were conditions like? Milikonu: Weather service reported calm conditions for that area, no squalls or heavy seas. In fact, the seas were pretty calm. Stagg: Did the Vega report anything? Milikonu: No, it didn't. Granted, we didn't raise them right away. We did have a crashboat in the area on training duty, so we sent them there as fast as they could. We finally spotted the yacht going at high speed on an erratic course. There was a skiff closing in, but when they saw our boys, they broke off and headed away. Brush: Light bad for a good look-see? Milikonu: Yes, it was nearly dark by then. The yacht didn't respond to hailing, and at the speed it was going, it was quite difficult to move alongside it and board. Lucky for us, the skipper of the crashboat is an instructor, one of the best we have. Stagg: I see. Having boarded the yacht, what did you find? Milikonu: Bluntly, a mess. There was one fur, canine, female, sprawled on the deck. Multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, dead at the scene. Down in the well, there was one fur, also canine, male, slumped over the wheel. One gunshot wound to the head, another in the chest. His paw was on the throttle quadrant, right to the max, which was why the yacht was moving so fast. Boat had a really powerful twin Packherd job, lucky for them. They'd never have outrun their pursuers otherwise. Stagg: No evidence of boarding? Milikonu: No, but the ship was all shot to pieces. The mast went over the side a few minutes after our boys boarded and stopped the boat. The crashboat radioed for help, and we got another crashboat to respond. That one picked up the male canine, and brought him to the Naval Clinic. Dr. Meffit from over at Island Hospital took charge. A patrol boat from the base eventually got out and put the yacht under tow, last word was they were due back in an hour or so. Put the yacht under guard? Stagg: Yes, that would be wise. Crime scene and all. Milikonu: Okeh. I've called the Naval Clinic to let them know you might be coming. The instructor from the first crashboat is also around. We should have his report later this morning. I've told them to copy your office on it. Stagg: Thank you, Ensign. By the way, Sergeant Brush, when he took the call on this matter, mentioned something about "pirates." What of it? Milikonu: There've been some scattered incidents over the last five months or so, some fishing vessels being chased. One steamer got boarded last month, but the crew fought them off with no serious casualties. That's in our jurisdiction, so we've been investigating it. This one, though...it's crossed the line into murder, so it's now a matter that we need to bring in the Constabulary. Brush: Hey, any chancea gettin' our paws on th' reports from dem previous jobs? Milikonu: I'll have them sent over with today's report, Sergeant. Stagg: Thanks for the coffee, Ensign. I think we'll head over to the Naval Clinic now. I'll read what you send over, and if there's anything else we need, I can call you, of course? Milikonu: Certainly, Inspector. [muscial bridge] Brush: Th' Naval Clinic ain't th' size of Island Hospital, but it's got all th' stuff ya'd want fer anythin' bad. Like, say, a fur gettin' shot up all over. Me 'n th' Inspector, we waits up front fer Doc Meffit. Asides from bein' prolly th' leadin' pill-roller 'round these parts, he's also the M.E. I gets one squint attim when he comes out, an' I knows what hat he's gonna be wearin'. Stagg: Dead? Meffit: Yes, Inspector. It was the head wound that was too much, but even without that, I would have given him very little chance. Stagg: High powered rifle bullets? Meffit: Dum-dum bullets at that, Inspector. These furs were playing for keeps. I'll have the bullets sent over to your shop, and I'll follow up with the full autopsy later today. Stagg: Doctor? You were in the Great War, too, as I recall. Meffit: Too long, Inspector, too long. Stagg: Tell me, did the wounds seem like normal combat fire, as it were...or were these aimed shots? Meffit: Well, now that you say it, Inspector...the woman's wounds were spread out...but the mel, well, just two wounds. Whoever took those shots made them count. Stagg: Hmm, thank you, Doctor. Meffit: Of course. I'll be at my shop if you need me. [musical bridge] Brush: Next stop, the dockyard. The Rain Island boys had just finished bringin' in the yacht. Didn't look like no damage t'th' hull, but above th' waterline, t'ings wuz all shot t'hell. Sails all ripped up, shattered glass everywhere, an' th' deck...well, whole lotta red all over th' joint. Tall, rangy caribou is supervisin' th' works. Turns out he wuz th' guy what got a hold of th' boat. Lt. Muskeag: Ah, how do you. You must be the gentlefurs from the police. Stagg: Yes, I'm Inspector Stagg, and this is my associate Sergeant Brush. You are...? Muskeag: Lieutenant Muskeag, of the patrol boat PB-64. We're the guys that stopped the boat. Stagg: Yes, I was told that was quite some job, Lieutenant. Muskeag: I'll show you why. Step lively, there... [GRAMS: Sound of two sets of hooves and one set of vulpine footpads walking on deck] Muskeag: If you look down there, sirs, you'll see what drives this thing. Brush (whistles): Holy smoke, that's some rig. Muskeag: Twin Packherd motors. Enough horsepower to move this tub about twenty-five knots, I reckon. Stagg: Twenty-five knots? Surely a bit of overkill for a motor yacht? Muskeag: Well, you know the types that own these yachts. Extension of the self, if you follow my meaning. Brush: Hunh. Kinda sheltered, them engines. Ain't no clear shot. Muskeag: Yes, it's likely what saved the yacht from being boarded. Our patrol boat is a little faster, but still it took everything we had to bring us alongside. Stagg: The lady, I take it, was dead when you boarded? Muskeag: That's right. The gentlefur was semi-conscious, all he could say was something about a "deposit." He dropped off about a minute after we boarded. Stagg: Did you see anything on the yacht? Muskeag: Just did a quick search, Inspector. No other furs on board, no fires, no damage that would have immediately threatened the ship's integrity, no dangerous cargo. We're running down the yacht's ownership, now. M/Y Cyclone, out of San Francisco, as the stern says. Oh, a constable came by earlier and dropped off a box for you gentlefurs. Stagg: Ah, yes. Sergeant, take charge of that Murder Box and load up the camera. With the Lieutenant's permission...? Muskeag: Sure thing, Inspector. [musical bridge] Brush: Pretty fancy setup on th' boat. Leastways, it wuz, until some furs went at it with some rifles. Slugs tore th' hell outta th' winders, th' drapes, an' th' woodwork. The cabin wuz real fancy. Satin sheets. Duds fer th' two nothin' t'sneeze at, neither. I. Magpie, an' real expensive. Seersucker, linen, silk, an' such... [Brief bit of music] Brush: Charthouse, not far from th' wheel, had all th' maps. Looks like th' happy couple wuz visitin' round the Islands. Well, 'ceptin Krupmark an' Cranium, but you gets what I mean. Brush: Hey, sir? I don't see no passports here. Stagg: Yes, good point, Sergeant. No money, either. And for that matter, given what else we see here, I'd expect some jewelry. Look around to see if you can find some cargo, or other evidence of something this yacht has carried. Brush: Whaddya gonna do? Stagg: Hunt for a safe, Sergeant. [musical bridge] Brush: I didn't find much in th' hold, 'ceptin' a few metal marbles, which I bags fer th' whatever. Faint scenta somethin' like oil, an' it ain't motor oil, neither. There's a lil' smudge on the deck, so I sops it up wit' a bit of paper, an' bags dat, too. I heads back up t'see what's doin'. Poked my muzzle in th' galley. Lotta fancy hi-end grub, looks t'be from Frisco joints. Wouldja believe even caviar? Some real fancy china, too, an' fancy teas an' coffees t'go wit' it. [GRAMS: Footpads clicking across deck] Brush: Any luck, sir? Stagg: Indeed, Sergeant. Behind this rather frank painting of a mermaid. Brush: Heh. Distractin'. Stagg: Quite. Interesting, this model is a rather sophisticated one. The safe, I mean, not the mermaid. Box up all the loose papers we have, get some bullet samples, and take some more pictures. I'm going to telephone the magistrate on duty to see if I can get a warrant to drill this safe... [musical bridge] Brush: Th' a-okeh? We gots dat in fifteen minutes. Openin' th' safe? Dat was a buncha hours. Considerin' we ain't got a whole lot searchin' th' ship, we sorta hadda wait on dat. So.... [GRAMS: Sound of metal drill, loud clanging sound] Stagg: Ah, thank you. Let's see...hmmm, yes, Sergeant. Our deceased friend was very particular about using the safe. Two United States Passports, names of...Thomas and...Julienne Boxer. Hmmm. Visa stamps for some of the outlying islands, all dated within the last month and a half...and the last stamp is the visa stamp for the Spontoons. Flat box, likely jewelry...humm! Brush: Some sparklers. Stagg: Two necklaces, some rings, some earrings, and a few bracelets. Rather showy. Brush: Furs notice dat kinda t'ing. Wunner if someone noticed real well. Stagg: Indeed, Sergeant...papers for the yacht...let's give those to the Rain Island gentlefurs, that'll help them. Bearer bonds, Gnu York Central Railroad, $5,000 face amount with coupons. Odd thing to be carrying on a trip. Brush: What's dat all wrapped up, likea buncha bricks? Stagg: Hmmm... [GRAMS: Sound of unwrapping.] Stagg: Well. Some mad money, it would appear... [Musical sting, then bridge] Brush: Well, them furs musta been plenty mad, 'cause dere wuz just shorta twenny thou in U.S. greenbacks. Plus, a packeta small diamonds. Why don't some furs use trav'lers cheques, like th' resta us? [Musical bridge] Brush: Well, it sorta goes wit'out sayin', th' twouvus stash dem sparklers an' th' dough, an' th' bonds in th' strong room at th' base. Boys from th' Finance Ministry'll come pick 'em up later. One, two furs wit' tommy-guns, betcha. I shoot off a few packs'a film, an' sends it out t'be done up wit' all th' other happy-snaps I done t'day. Stagg, he's sorta thinkin', like he does regular-like. Stagg: Sergeant, to take two steps back. What do your notes say regarding that lightship...the Vega, I think it was? Brush: Lessee... [GRAMS: Papers ruffling] Brush: Yeah, right. Th' dead furs, day radioed in dere position. 1/2 mile easta Shark's Teeth Reef. Dat's where th' Vega is. Stagg: Hmmm. Half mile. And on a calm night, too. Do you suppose the lightship master could have heard something? Brush: Only one way t'find out, sir. Umhhh. Pardon my askin', but...ah... Stagg: Without me, I think, Sergeant. My hoof doesn't make me a candidate for climbing up ship's ladders. [Musical bridge] Brush: I calls Kiki (dat's my mate, see), an' I tells her what I'm doin', an' not t'keep dinner fer me. One of the Rain Island boys is doin' some trainin' on float planes, so dey figgers might as well mix some navy business wit' Constab'lry business. So, 'bout an hour later, I'm hailin' th' lightship. [GRAMS: Noise of water against side of boat] Brush (loudly, off-mike): AHOY! VEGA! SPONTOON CONSTAB'LRY! NEED T'TALK T'YA! (Pause) Warren (on-mike, less loud): Come aboard. Ladder is just in front, there. [GRAMS: Sound of grunting, and banging against the side of the ship, then a final grunt] Warren: Ah, good afternoon...I'm Douglas Warren, the keeper of the Vega. And you are...? Brush: I flashes my buzzer at 'im. He looks at it, an' sorta nods. No real nervous-like reaction, just sorta takes it in stride. Warren: Come aft to the radio room, Sergeant. I have some coffee brewing there. Brush: T'anks. Don't get many vis'ters, dontcha? Warren: No, no, just the supply ship every six weeks...I'm due in about another week or so. Holiday in seven more weeks, when my relief comes in. Brush: Long shift. Warren: Six months on, six off. It's not too bad. Ah, here we are. [GRAMS: Door creaking open.] Warren: Have a seat. How do you take yours? Brush: Black as night. Speakin' a which, you notice somethin' funny goin' on last night? Warren: A boat was in distress, I understand. I heard the call on the emergency frequency. Brush: Ya do anythin'? Warren: Not my job, Sergeant. My job is to keep the lights going. Plain and simple. Rescue and recovery work is the Rain Island Naval Syndicate's duty. In any event, the Syndicate responded right away, so there was no need for me to relay the message. Brush: Ya see anythin'? Warren: By the time I got out to the prow with my field glasses, I couldn't see anything. The light we throw isn't all that much...we're more of a beacon, you see. And unless you know what you're looking for, you might not spot a small vessel. Brush: Well, ya musta heard somethin'... Warren: I heard loud noises, to be sure, but with all the racket on this ship, not to mention the birds squalling, it's hard to make out sounds clearly. Brush: Ya see much 'round here? Warren: That's my log book, over there. Any boats that hang around, get lost, or such, I mark them down there. Brush: I takes a look, sure. Occasional fishin' boat, askin' directions. One, two breakdowns, th' Rain Island boys called in. Last night's call. No furs visitin'. Not much info dere. Only t'ing I learn is dat Warren makes good coffee. I ast him th' recipe. Warren: Heh, Sergeant. Old sailor's trick. You stay out here, you learn to deal with coffee. [Musical bridge] Brush: Well, dat was a bust. Leastways, th' navy flyboy got his time in. I gets back, an' heads on over t'Luchow's. Th' place is closed, official-like, fer dinner. But Rosie, she keeps stuff warmin' in th' oven, fer a few lawyers (like my sis), and a few of th' cops. Like me. An' like th' Inspector. 'course, she has a sep'rate room fer him, too. Chilled, 'cause he don't take th' heat good. [GRAMS: Unlatching of door, soft jingle of bell] Rosie Baumgartner: Good evening, Sergeant. The only thing I have left over is a turkey pot pie. Brush: Sounds good t'me. Seen my boss? Rosie: He's in his room, finishing up his dinner. I'll bring you yours, and some coffee. Brush: T'anks. [GRAMS: Footpads on wood floor. Knock on door] Stagg (off-mike): Come in. [GRAMS: Door opening] Stagg: Ah, Sergeant. Any luck? Brush: Nah. [GRAMS: Door closing] Brush: It wuz a bust. Th' lightship keeper, he didn't see nothin' last night. Didn't hear a whole lot, neither. Didn't log nothin' unusual in his book, 'ceptin' th' call last night. Stagg: Hmm. Brush: You find out anythin'? Stagg: I sent a wire to Minkerton's in San Francisco, collect. Gave them particulars on the Boxers, and their yacht. One way or another, that's information that Minkerton's is going to want to know. Won't hear anything more on that score, I think, until tomorrow. Brush: I see ya brung some of th' clothes witcha. Learn anythin'? Stagg: Nothing really conclusive. Other than the Boxers had good taste, and expensive taste, in their clothes. [GRAMS: Knock on door, door opening] Rosie: Here's your dinner, Sergeant. I'll put it on the tray. Brush: Hey, Rosie? Gotta question fer ya. Whatcha t'ink of dese sparklers? [GRAMS: Dishes being put on tray, pause, then riffle of paper.] Rosie: Ugh. Stagg: Ugh? Rosie: Yeah, ugh. Sort of stuff you get some chorus girl with no taste, except for large stones. Stagg (coughs discreetly): Oh, really? Rosie: Trust Auntie Rosie on that one, boys. I've seen more than a few girls get their heads and tails turned by boys with large rocks. I mean, look at this photo. It's not in colour or anything, but none of this stuff coordinates, different cuts and all. It's all a hodgepodge. Stagg: Hmmm. Rosie: Want me to testify in court on that? Stagg (soft laugh): No, I think we'll let that pass. May I please have another pitcher of coffee, though? Rosie: You drink too much coffee, Franklin. Brush: Ain't no such t'ing. Rosie: You keep out of this, or you get no cherry cobbler for desert. So there. [Music under next] Brush: Rosie leaves us 'lone after dat, an' th' two of us hashes out a few udder t'ings we gots cookin'. Th' Boxer job, that'll sit until t'morra. [Musical bridge] Brush: So, anyhoo, we does hear from Minkerton's, late next day... Stagg: Our friends at Minkerton's were quite familiar with the Boxers. They were in the import-export business... Brush: Y'mean, a lil' bit o' dis, a little bit o' dat, an' a whole lot unner th' table? Stagg: You've touched the matter with a needle, Sergeant. They had a specialty in weapons smuggling, particularly items that could have military or civilian use. Even still, they were in some financial difficulty. Back taxes, you see. Brush: Heh. Not reportin' all th' dough dey wuz gettin', hanh? Stagg: Either that, or the competition was causing issues. Well, we know where they were, based on their passports...that's of course assuming the stamps are genuine, easily checked...but what puzzles me is the question of what they could be smuggling. They seemed to be heading away from the prime smuggling grounds, yet all they had was cash, jewels and negotiable instruments. And that yacht isn't all that big, so unless they were carrying something of both small size *and* high value, something doesn't quite make sense. Brush: Yeah, all I finds in th' hold wuz a lil' metal marble... Stagg: Yes, thank you for reminding me, I saw that in your notes. It puzzled me a bit. You have it in the file, don't you? Brush: Umm, lessee... [GRAMS: Sound of items being moved in box] Brush: Yeah, here 'tis. In dis lil' bag, here... Stagg: Ah. Well. You're to be congratulated on your eyesight, Sergeant. Brush: Hunh? Stagg: You've found a possible answer to my question, just now. This isn't a marble, as you put it. Not exactly, anyway. This is a ball bearing. Useful in many types of equipment. Also very few makers worldwide, at least the ones of high quality. End result... Brush: Lil' item, big value. Stagg: Quite. Sergeant, go back to the yacht, right now. I want you to give that hold a thorough search. Brush: What do you want I should be looking for? Stagg: Either more of your marbles or, I suspect, a bit of burst packaging... [Musical bridge] Brush: I spends th' next four hours goin' t'ru dat hold in th' yacht. It ain't big, but th' Inspector sez t'go t'ru it real fine, so I does. Two more marbles, 'scuse me, ball bearin's, an' a little square a' cardboard, endflap offen a box, readin'... Stagg: "SKF," Fillydelphia. Well done, Sergeant. I was at the library while you were gone, looking up the leading makers of ball bearings. SKF is one of them. At some point in the recent past, that yacht was carrying a supply of ball bearings. Brush: What's the goin' rate fer dem t'ings? Stagg: That I can't say, Sergeant, but they are very useful little items. Emphasis on the "little." Oh, and I did one other thing while you were gone, Sergeant. Remember you asked Ensign Milikonu for the reports of the previous incidents over the last five months? Brush: The goin's on up near Shark's Teeth? Yeah, we gettem? Stagg: Yes, and I'm glad you asked for them, Sergeant. Here, I've spread them out on this table. Have a look at them and tell me what *you* think... Brush: I does. Bunch a reports, but dey're mostly th' same-like... Stagg: You seem intrigued, Sergeant. Brush: Somethin' funny goin' on. I mean, sure, dem boats was chased, but it don't look none like dey wuz tryin' t'catch 'em. An' only dat one case where dey boarded th' boat, an' even den, no real standup fight. Dat don't make sense. Dem fishin' boats, dey ain't got no weapons-like. An' dey're slow. Ain't no match fer furs wit' speed an' punch. Stagg: I agree, Sergeant. And the conclusion to be drawn from that, is that the purpose of the actions was not piracy, but... Brush: Keepin' furs outta some area. Word gets out, furs ain't gonna sail craft in dat area. Stagg: To what purpose, though? There's very little in that area. Brush: 'ceptin' th' Vega. Stagg: Quite so, Sergeant. Quite so. I think some cooperation from our Rain Island friends would be very much in order, right now... [GRAMS: Telephone receiver being picked up, hook being jiggled] Stagg: Yes, operator. Connect me with MOon-52, please, the Commandant's Office. [Musical bridge] Brush: Th' Inspector gets some good help from th' furs over at th' base. We gets a promise fer some more "trainin'" flights over th' area, an' some more snoopin' 'round. So dat's dat. Still, tho, I'm wonderin...hey, sir? Stagg: Hmmm? Brush: I'm just t'inkin. That stuff we finds, th' gems an' such, dat ain't traceable, right? Stagg: Certainly not easily, Sergeant. Brush: Make it good fer stuffin' in a bank, ain't it? Or somewheres else... Stagg: I take it you have somefur in mind. Brush: Yeah. Warren. Lissen, what's he got t'spend his dough on, bein' six months cooped up on dat lil' ship? I'm t'inkin' it'd be kinda interestin' t'ask 'round 'bout our lil' pal. Stagg: Not, I take it, at the Fishermans' and Whalers' Bank. Brush: Naw, I'm figgerin' place where dey don't work no bankers' hours, iffen ya knows what I mean... [Musical bridge] Brush: So I goes off an' spends a chunk a' th' afternoon, and a good chunka early evenin', goin' round places I knows on Casino, an' Eastie. Lotta places 'round dere where furs know a whole lot, stuff ya ain't gonna see in no bankbook, neither. Yeah, our little friend was a busy lil' boy. Bought a nice lil' stash of gold coins, I hears from one gold dealer, lil' less dan a year 'go. Been askin' questions of furs who deal in gems. An' yeah, he's got two safety deposit boxes at banks on Casino. On a lightshipkeeper's pay? Lissen, maybe ya can't spend money on booze an' dames on no lightship, but somethin' is real smelly 'bout dis. I heads back t'Meetin', an' looks fer th' Inspector. He's back at Luchow's, in his room, 'cause it's hot as blazes out dere. 'course, dat don't stop 'im from havin' his cuppa java. Or two. Or three... [GRAMS: Click of spoon in cup] Rosie: Franklin, you have enough trouble getting to sleep nights without having any more coffee. Stagg: Hrrrmmmm. [GRAMS: Sipping of coffee] Rosie: Franklin... Brush: Heh, Rosie. Mebbe it's yer brand. Rosie: Quiet, you, or no seconds on that pie you're gobbling down. Stagg: Hrrrmmmm. Rosie: Franklin, at least have some pie with that coffee... Stagg: Rosie, how do you get your coffee? Rosie: Don't change the subject, you. Stagg: No, Rosie, I'm quite serious, I assure you. There's a reason I'm asking. How do you get your coffee? Tins? Rosie: Are you kidding? At the rate we go through coffee in an average day? We'd be spending half our time opening tins. No, we get ours from the Buckhorn & Sons distributor. Stagg: Oh? Rosie: Yes, they get the green coffee beans from Honolulu, and they roast them at the plant over on Eastern. Brush: Yeah, dat's right. Wind's blowin' right, ya kin smell it. Rosie: We get the whole beans, and grind them up here, and then use the big percolator machines. Stagg: How much do you use? Rosie: We probably go through a fifty-pound bag in one week. I don't order more at one time. Stagg: Why not? Rosie: Beans lose their punch if you let them sit around for a while. Stagg: Ah. Interesting. Brush: Well, yeah, iffen ya run a joint like Luchow's...but what's dat gotta... Stagg: Sergeant, first thing tomorrow morning, pay a visit to Buckhorn's. Ask how they serve the lightship service. Brush: Hunh? Well, yeah, sure...but... Stagg: And make sure to taste their coffee, Sergeant. Brush: Hunh? Wha? Well, okeh, but... [Musical bridge] Brush: Th' Inspect'r, he's gotta funny sensea humour sometimes. 'course, he don't always joke, so, I wunner. Anyhoo, it ain't no fur offen my muzzle, iffen he wants me t'glug up some java, so... Chief Clerk: Of course, Sergeant. Well, we have one regular blend, the Magellan, that is used for all of our bulk sales. Brush: Ya mean, th' big stuff, like th' fifty-pound bags? Chief Clerk: Exactly. The fifty-pound bags are used for the hotels, the air terminal, many of the large restaurants, the naval base... Brush: An' the lightships? Chief Clerk: Oh, yes, Sergeant. Chaps out there need their coffee. Brush: But it's all one blend, hanh? Chief Clerk: Yes, the Magellan. We do import the other blends of Buckhorn coffees, the da Gama, the Hudson, and the Columbus, but we sell those only in one-pound vaccuum tins, and not many of them, either. Most furs here in the Spontoons get their coffee from restaurants or such. Brush: I knows this is gonna sound funny, but my boss, he's ast me t'take a few sips of yer coffees. You ain't gonna...? Chief Clerk: Oh, I'd be delighted, Sergeant. The canteen is just through here, I'll have one of the staffers makes some pots for us. Lovely excuse for a coffee break, don't you think? Brush: Now, see, I ain't no expert in coffee. Meanin', I ain't onnea dem furs who goes 'round, sayin' dis coffee has gots such an' such a note of such an' such, or an unnernote, iffen ya knows what I mean. But see, I tries dis Magellan, and it ain't what Warren served me. I means no knock on dem Buckhorn folks, but th' lightship keeper, he gave me better coffee. 'course, I also gots some good doughnuts from th' Buckhorn boys, so dat was good...anyhow, I heads back t'HQ wit' dis, fer whatever it's worth, plus a few other bits of info... Stagg: You're sure, then? Brush: Yeah. Th' lightship service orders two fifty-pound bags t'last th' six months. I seen th' order in th' books myself. Stagg: No other shipments? Brush: Nope. An' I checks wit' th' udder wholesalers, too. Fer everythin' but tinned meat, Buckhorn's has th' contract t'supply th' lightships. Stagg: So, no other official supply. Brush: Nope. Stagg: How very, very interesting. The second-most interesting bit of information I've received today. Brush: Oh? Stagg: Yes-s. Our friends from Rain Island have been very busy with their training programme. Quite a few flights in the area at and around the Shark's Teeth Reef. Brush: Anyone come out an' play? Stagg: Quite so. One plane spotted a fishing boat being chased. The hunter quickly became the hunted. They have good marksmanship training at Rain Island, it would appear. Brush: They get anyfur? Stagg: Not alive, as it turns out. However, some weapons were recovered and are being shipped back to Moon Island for testing. Also, whatever else they've managed to recover from the skiff... [Musical bridge] Brush: No ID on the furs that got whacked, some money from places scattered 'round. Oh, yeah, an' a buncha bearer bonds, 'bout ten thou in U.S. money. Gnu York Central Railroad. We'll check fer prints, but I ain't guessin' that'll tell us anyt'ing. No maps or nothin'. I ast th' Inspector a question... Stagg: An intriguing one, Sergeant. I had the same thought. No, our friend on the Vega did not report the incident. One assumes he recognized the Rain Island aircraft, but still... Brush: I wouldn't mind payin' our lil' chum 'nother visit. [GRAMS: Sound of knuckles cracking] Stagg: Quite, Sergeant. I want to visit the yacht one more time, though. And after that, I'm going to have a talk with the magistrate on duty... [Musical bridge] Brush: So, bright 'n early th' next day, we has a lil' outin'. [GRAMS: Sound of motorboat running through the water] Brush: ...me, th' Inspector, an' a few beefy boys from Rain Island. Supposed-like 'long t'help th' Inspector up th' ladder. Supposed-like, mind ya. I thinks them boys are 'round fer another purpose, iffen ya knows what I mean. Anyhoo, we gets up alongside th' Vega... [GRAMS: Sound of motorboat engine being slowed down, and slapping of water against ship] Brush: This time, dere ain't no formalities, see? He sends me up, first. Ain't hard fer me, 'course. One Rain Island boy fallas me, den one stays behind t'help th' Inspector up th' ladder. All th' racket we makes, it's a cinch that'll attract some comp'ny... Warren: Hey! You can't just climb...oh. Brush: Yeah, we sorta can just climb aboard yer lil' boat, Warren. Warren: Look, if this is about yesterday, why on Earth don't you just radio me, or contact the Naval Syndicate? Brush: Oh, we has, we has. But, y'know, what *you* gotta say, dat's a whole lot more interestin', see? Warren: How so? Brush: Well, I... [GRAMS: Sound of hooves hitting deck, then walking stick and hooves across deck] Brush: Heh. You ain't met my boss, Inspect'r Stagg, ain'tcha? Warren: Umm...no, no I haven't. How do you do? Stagg: Good morning, Mr. Warren. Before we get down to business, I was wondering if you had something to drink. I haven't had my breakfast yet, you see. Warren: Oh. Yes, well, of course. Won't you come back to the radio room, um...gentlemen? I think I have enough coffee in the pot for five. Stagg: Very good of you, Mr. Warren, thank you. [GRAMS: Sounds of footpads and hooves/walking stick across deck, opening of door] Brush: So, Warren goes back. Bit of stretchin' his supply, but he scrapes up five mugs okeh. All of us drinks a bit. Warren ain't feelin' chatty. Stagg: Ah, you were right, Sergeant. Sergeant Brush was telling me, Mr. Warren, that you were quite skilled in making coffee. Warren: Well, yes, you have to be, for all the nights out here, Inspector. I told your man that. Stagg: Indeed, it must get quite lonely out here, with no visitors, does it not? Warren: Well, yes, it does, but... Stagg: Yes, this is really excellent coffee. Let's have a look at your galley, shall we? Warren: Now, see here, Inspector, you can't... Stagg: This search warrant, Mr. Warren, says I can. The galley, if you please? [Musical sting] Brush: Warren sorta licks his lips, an' nervous-like, points th' way t'th' galley... [GRAMS: Door opening] Brush: Lemme guess...I'm lookin fer somethin' real fancy inna one-poun' tin, right? Stagg: And be careful with the prints, Sergeant. [GRAMS: Sounds of cupboards being opened and closed] Brush: Lessee...nope...nope...uhhh, nope...nope...hey, lookee here... [GRAMS: Sound of metal tin being scraped, then sniffing sound] Brush: Almost-empty tin of coffee. Hey, I seen a tin like this before, on... Stagg: ...the Boxer's yacht, yes. What's that noise? [GRAMS: Loud sound of struggle, intermixed with yelling] Stagg: Sergeant, quick, go outside and help. Brush: I'm onnit! [GRAMS: Sound of door being banged open] Brush: Th' two beef-boys from Rain Island wuz havin' a bit of a fight on dere paws. Dat Warren was fightin' like a demon t'jump over th' side. So, out comes th' Headache Maker, an'... [GRAMS: Loud thudding sound] Warren: Ahhhh....UNH! Brush: He don't fight no more, leastways fer a while. Takes him 'bout twenny minutes t'come to, or so th'Inspect'r said. Me, I done what th' warrant said t'do. Have a nice lil' looksee fer ball bearins, an' any loot. Nix on th' latter, but... [GRAMS: Sound of a few bearings being rattled in a bowl] Stagg: Is that all, Sergeant? Brush: Naw, not by a long shot. Buncha small boxes in a chest in th' captain's room. Funny t'ing, y'know. Onea dem boxes ain't gotta side flap. Few of 'em leaked out. An' hey, furs tell me dese t'ings is valuable... Stagg: Indeed. Having given you the requisite warnings, I put the question: why do you have these ball bearings in your possession, Mr. Warren? Surely you don't need them in your line of work. That is, your official line of work. Warren: I'm not talking. You've got nothing, so... Stagg: Oh? Well, let me detail a few things, Mr. Warren. While you were...well, out...I had one of these gentlefurs from the Rain Island Naval Syndicate look around for a few other things. They found one empty sack, which formerly contained roasted but unground coffee beans. They also found one other sack. It was mostly empty, but it contained some beans that were spoiled, perhaps a few pounds' worth. [GRAMS: Sound of pencil tapping against tin] Stagg: Now, of course, this is where this item comes in. A lack of coffee would be a serious impediment, even for the relatively short period of time you had left before your relief came. Not critical, but it would be an impediment. Now, you have no visitors on board this vessel. Your logbook indicates as such. Thus, the question: how did you come by this coffee? Warren: It's mine, I bought it. Stagg: I rather think you didn't, Mr. Warren. For one thing, even though Buckhorn & Sons sells tinned coffee, this isn't one of their brands. And they have the exclusive contract for supplying the Vega with coffee. And furthermore, this is an upscale brand of coffee, one sold in San Francisco. Not something that would be for sale here in the Spontoons. Warren: So what? Stagg: The importance, Mr. Warren, of the upscale brand of coffee becomes apparent when we look at the contents of a certain yacht, the one that was attacked a few days ago. It was, as Sergeant Brush noted, filled with upscale provisions. Including tins of this brand of coffee. It will be a relatively easy matter to test the tin for pawprints, of course. But to move on. The ball bearings are another matter. Found on the yacht was packaging identical to that found for ball bearings found in your cabin. I feel confident we'll be able to match up the burst package with the portion we found previously. That, again, is going to tie you to the Boxers. Warren: (sighs) Stagg: This isn't the only search warrant, you know. Warrants are being executed right now for your apartment on Casino Island, plus your safety deposit boxes. I have every expectation that we will find a significant amount of valuables. An amount far exceeding what would be expected for someone of your salary. Brush: Yeah, a gold coin here, a gold coin dere, soon we're talkin' real dough. Stagg: Mr. Boxer, before he died, made a vague reference to a "deposit." Given the valuables he was carrying, it would be interesting to know if there was any connection. I don't know if we'll know for sure, but I think a comparison of the contents of your safety deposit boxes with the valuables will prove most interesting. Lastly, of course, is the interesting fact that the current spate of incidents all date back approximately five months. That is to say, during your latest period on board the Vega, Mr. Warren. Warren: So, what am I being accused of? Stagg: I think, Mr. Warren, we can start with bribery, and continue on through illegal use of government property. This is in connection with using the Vega as a way station for smuggling. The ship that was stopped last night, I expect, was bringing a payment to you. The bonds, by the way, are close in number sequence to that found with the Boxers. Warren: That's it? Stagg: Not quite. We'll be going through this ship with a fine-tooth comb, Mr. Warren. In expect that we are going to find something further that will tie you with the furs operating that skiff, the one that it's likely shot up the Boxers' yacht. I have a good deal of confidence we'll be able to tie the weapons found on the skiff with the ones used against the Boxers. And if we tie you to that skiff, Mr. Warren, we'll be adding charges of murder. Two charges, in fact. Warren: Oh. I see. Stagg: And the way you've been eyeing that desk for the last minute, Mr. Warren, the one next to the radio, I feel that would be a good place to start some further research. Don't you, Sergeant? [Musical sting, then bridge] Brush: Yeah, dat wuz a good guess, allright. Bottom drawer had a few scraps o' paper, just a few notes. But they wuz talkin' 'bout bearer bonds and sparklers...an' a rendezvous a few nights ago t'get stuff away. Oh, yeah. An' a draft complain' 'bout th' couriers shootin' up a boat, an' makin' him lose stuff. Yeah, I don't t'ink a jury's gonna like nonea dat stuff... Stagg: Well, one never knows how a jury is going to take the evidence, Sergeant. Warren's certainly guilty of bribery, and he's certainly tied up with the gang that killed the Boxers, though we'll never quite know whether it was a mix-up, or a double-cross, that was the driving factor. Brush: Yeah, but dere's one t'ing I'm sure of. Stagg: Indeed? Brush: He ain't gonna be orderin' no jailhouse coffee, hanh? Stagg: Ah, yes, Sergeant. Quite. [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 "The Light That Failed," written by E.O. Costello. Sergeant Orrin Brush was played by Jackson Beck, Inspector Stagg by Parker Fennelly, Rosie Baumgartner by Georgia Ellis, Ranua Milikonu, Keeper Warren and Lt. Muskeag by Wally Maher, and Doctor Meffit by Don Ameche. 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. [Musical Station Identification Tag] Transcribed and edited by E.O.Costello |