The New Adventures of Nero Wolfe

Dear, Dead Lady

Date: Nov 03 1950


<p>The New Adventures of Nero Wolfe<br />
based on the characters created by Rex Stout</p>

<p>'The Dear, Dead Lady'<br />
by Peter Barry</p>

<p>CAST OF CHARACTERS</p>

<p>WOLFE:  Worlds greatest detective, fancier of fine food and orchids<br />
ARCHIE:  His long-suffering assistant<br />
OLIPHANT  A cult leader and reformed playboy in love<br />
HUNTER  A lousy boxer in love<br />
BARSTOW  A ham actor in love<br />
ILSA   The object of their affection<br />
ELEVATOR BOY  A creep<br />
HALSBREKER  A grocer<br />
PAWNBROKER  An old pawnbroker</p>ARCHIE:  My boss is the smartest and the stubbornest, the fattest and the laziest, the cleverest and the craziest, the most extravagant detective in the world -- Nero Wolfe!

MUSIC: BRIEF INTERLUDE

ANNOUNCER:  It's the adventure of the Dear Dead Lady.  With that brilliant, eccentric private detective, orchid fancier and gargantuan gourmet, Nero Wolfe!  Starring Justin Kapla!

MUSIC: THEME IN

ANNOUNCER:  Nero Wolfe had just come downstairs, having tended to his precious orchids.  He was, as usual, seated in the library which served as the office.  He'd just dialed a phone number.  And, with his eyes closed, was leaning back in his specially built chair which was big enough for two -- but not two of him.

SOUND: FADE IN A PHONE ON-LINE DIAL.  THEN, AN ON-LINE PICKUP

HALSBREKER (ON PHONE)  Halsbreker's Market, Domestic and Imported Delicacies. 

WOLFE:  Mr Halsbreker, this is Nero Wolfe.

HALSBREKER (ON PHONE)  Oh, yeah, Mr Wolfe, I was just about to ring you --

WOLFE:  I have need of two pounds of duck liver.  I do not, of course, refer to the commercialized Strasburg Patte. 

HALSBREKER (ON PHONE)  I appreciate the order, Mr. Wolfe, but I'm afraid --

WOLFE:  Next, my cook Fritz informs me that we require three fine fat geese. 

HALSBREKER (ON PHONE)  Look, Mr. Wolfe, there's a little matter of an unpaid --

WOLFE:  You might add twelve cases of beer, a bushel of Vermont apples, green for stuffing, and a gallon of Martisa Patrisa Roman Oil.

HALSBREKER (ON PHONE)  Mr. Wolfe, I can't --

WOLFE:  In addition Fritz has listed six dozen eggs, four braces of Sussex Woodcock and a few pounds of Westphalian Ham.  Do you have all that?

HALSBREKER (ON PHONE)  I can get it, Mr. Wolfe, but my bookkeeper say --

WOLFE:  Thank you very much, Mr. Halsbreker.  That will be all.

SOUND: PHONE HANGUP

WOLFE:  (SATISFIED RUMBLE)  Now then, Archie?

ARCHIE:  Yes boss?

WOLFE:  You seem to be worried.

ARCHIE:  Oh, I am.  This means, naturally, that I'm supposed to handle Halsbreker's delivery boy when, and if he shows. 

WOLFE:  I had thought of leaving that simple matter to you.

ARCHIE:  And what about the simple matter of the money?

WOLFE:  Money?

ARCHIE:  I hate to bring up a vulgar subject, but where's it coming from? 

WOLFE:  Oh, of course.  You're right, Archie.  I should have said --

ARCHIE:  Said what? 

WOLFE:  Charge it.

ARCHIE:  Boss, look, you don't realize it, I know, but we're into the truffle broker for five hundred odd bucks and change. 

WOLFE:  All right!  All right, then give him a check. 

ARCHIE:  Okay, I will give him a check.  And I hope they'll let you keep the orchids in your cell.

WOLFE:  You're a wit, Archie.

ARCHIE:  Um hmm.  You know, I'm on the bank's mailing list.  We got a notice this morning. 

WOLFE:  You don't mean?

ARCHIE:  Oh, but I do. 

WOLFE:  Again?

ARCHIE:  You can't just take money out of an account, boss.  Sometimes, you gotta put some in!

MUSIC: TRANSITION

ARCHIE:  This is the only way to deal with the man I work for.  And if I hadn't of thrown him that scare, he wouldn't have been willing to listen when the door buzzer rang, and a prosperous looking young guy in the kind of clothes that don't grow on trees came in, and stood in front of the bosses chair, fiddling with the brim of his pork pie. 

OLIPHANT:  My name is Oliphant, Mr Wolfe.

WOLFE:  Oliphant?

OLIPHANT:  Yes, Oliphant.  I am the spirtual head and guiding leader of a small religious group known as the seekers of the inner power. 

WOLFE:  I see. Also a man addicted to marrying neither wisely nor well, but often.

OLIPHANT:  You read the papers.

WOLFE:  I do. 

OLIPHANT:  Mr. Wolfe, I am as aware of my sin-ridden past as anyone else.  The point is, I am no longer that type of man.  Even a person such as I can see the light in time.

WOLFE:  Good.  Might I ask why you've come to see me, Mr. Oliphant?

OLIPHANT:  I need your help, Mr. Wolfe.

WOLFE:  Concerning?

OLIPHANT:  A certain young lady with whom I'm deeply in love.  I beg you not to confuse the present emotion with any of my earlier escapades.  What I feel for Miss Dana is the pure and righteous glow of an upright seeker of the inner power. 

WOLFE:  I promise to look on you as utterly redeemed, Mr. Oliphant.  Proceed.  By the way, do I recognize the name of your lady as a Park Avenue socialite and amateur swimming champion?


OLIPHANT:  Well, yes.  But she's sweet, wonderful, beautiful!  I've asked her to marry me, and she's given me some hope.  In time, I fully expect to make her my wife. 

ARCHIE:  Then where's the problem?

OLIPHANT:  The problem is the presence of another man in her life. 

WOLFE:  I'm sorry, sir.  I'm a detective.  Not a match maker. 

OLIPHANT:  This isn't a question of making a match, Mr. Wolfe.  I have much too much respect for your talents to think of offering you such an assignment.

WOLFE:  Exactly what do you want me to do?

OLIPHANT:  I want you to save Ilsa Dana's life.

WOLFE:  Her life?

OLIPHANT:  Mr. Wolfe, this other man I spoke of is insanely jealous, not only of Ilsa's present, but of her past as well.  He has threatened to kill her!

WOLFE:  I don't doubt your earnestness in this matter, Mr. Oliphant, but how would you know?

OLIPHANT:  I was listening on an extension in Miss Dana's apartment a few days ago when Hunter called.

WOLFE:  Hunter?

OLIPHANT:  Yes sir.  Jack Hunter.  Known as Jack the Babe, Hunter.

ARCHIE:  Wait a minute, I know that canvas back.

WOLFE:  Huh?

ARCHIE:  Sure, he's a coffee and cake prelim waltzer. 

OLIPHANT:  No he's not.  He's a boxer.

WOLFE:  Archie is being fancy.  Overlook him, Mr. Oliphant.  Is Hunter in love with this lady of yours?

OLIPHANT:  I doubt it.  He's a man of complete moral and spiritual corruption, I believe. 

WOLFE:  Naturally, you would.  But what are the facts?

OLIPHANT:  In my opinion, he's after her for her money.

WOLFE:  She has money?

OLIPHANT:  To burn.

WOLFE:  And you, Mr. Oliphant?

OLIPHANT:  Me?

WOLFE:  Can you also afford to burn?

OLIPHANT:  How much do you want?

WOLFE:  The answer to that would be astronomical.  However, if you leave a check for say, seven thousand dollars, I shall look into your matter the very moment I have completed a little research into the nutrition of the Polynesian orchid.

MUSIC: TRANSITION

ARCHIE:  Oliphant's check gave our bank account a slight blood transfusion.  I think it was the boss's plan to spend a week or two in the plant room before he got busy on the case.  And he'd have done it, too if that phone call hadn't come in a little after nine, just after Wolfe had polished off one of Fritz's dinners, and was settling back with a stein of beer in his hand.

SOUND: PHONE RING, CONTINUES UNDER

WOLFE:  Don't disturb yourself, Archie.  I'll get it.

ARCHIE:  (DISTANT) Look out you don't strain yourself, boss.  You have to straighten out an elbow to reach that receiver. 

WOLFE:  You have an unfortunate flair for mixing humor with impertinence, my friend. 

SOUND: PHONE PICKUP

WOLFE:  Hello, Nero Wolfe speaking.

ILSA (OVER PHONE)  This is Ilsa Dana, Mr. Wolfe.

WOLFE:  How do you do, Miss Dana.  We were discussing you just this morning. 

ILSA (OVER PHONE)  So I've heard.

WOLFE:  Through whom?

ILSA (OVER PHONE)  Ted Oliphant.

WOLFE:  I see.  The young man seemed to be quite worried about you.

ILSA (OVER PHONE)  The young man should tend to his own affairs. 

WOLFE:  He said you were in some danger.

ILSA (OVER PHONE)  I know what he said.  And not one word of it was true. 

WOLFE:  Oh?

Ilsa (OVER PHONE)  I uh...I'd like to talk with you, Mr. Wolfe. 

WOLFE:  I'm sure it will be an immense pleasure. Where do you live?

ILSA (OVER PHONE)  I have an apartment at twenty-two Blanton Street. Can you be here soon?

WOLFE:  I can be there in a quarter of an hour, Miss Dana.  By proxie, of course. 

MUSIC: TRANSITION 

ARCHIE:  The proxy, naturally, was yours truly.  Ten minutes later, or twenty past nine, I walked up to Ilsa Dana's door, with a nosy elevator boy giving me the double-O.  The reason for his interest was that her door was open, and the room inside was empty except for a twisted pile of pale, pink satin.  Which at close range turned out to be a woman.  Which woman turned out to be Ilsa Dana.  And Ilsa Dana was dead.

MUSIC: STAB

ELEVATOR BOY:  She used to be pretty.  She isn't now.

ARCHIE:  Strangulation doesn't help any girl's looks, son. 

ELEVATOR BOY:  Make anything of it?

ARCHIE:  Well, the position of her body and the bloodstains on her pointed fingernails tells me she put up a tough struggle before somebody succeeded in smothering her with a pillow from the sofa over there. 

ELEVATOR BOY:  Yeah, that figures.  When did it happen, I wonder?

ARCHIE:  In the last fifteen minutes, I'd guess.  Say, who's been up in the elevator this evening?

ELEVATOR BOY:  Nobody for her --

ARCHIE:  Well somebody came up!

ELEVATOR BOY:  Who says not!?  They could have used the stairs, you know. 

ARCHIE:  Hmm.  How well do you know Miss Dana.

ELEVATOR BOY:  I know exactly zero about Miss Dana!

ARCHIE:  How could you take her up and down, everyday, and know nothing about her?

ELEVATOR BOY:  It's a rule of the house to keep your mouth shut.  The rule also goes when being questioned by a cop. 

ARCHIE:  A cop?  Who's a cop?

ELEVATOR BOY:  Oh, so I guess you're a cello player from the philharmonic. 

ARCHIE:  Look, I happen to work for a guy named Nero Wolfe. 

ELEVATOR BOY:  Oh.

ARCHIE:  Heard of him?

ELEVATOR BOY:  Maybe.

ARCHIE:  Well if your memory comes alive, son, I might see my way clear to spend a few dollars with you.  Understand?

ELEVATOR BOY:  I'll keep you in mind.  Going down, mister?

MUSIC: TRANSITION

ARCHIE:  I spent time trying to get sense out of the superintendent and a pair of chamber maids, but they were as quiet as a ballpark on Christmas Eve.  Then I called the cops and told them about Oliphant and Hunter.  By the time I got home, the house was dark and Nero Wolfe was sleeping.  The next morning, I gave him the details while he drank three bottles of beer.  When I'd finished, he sat thinking for a long time.  Then he started another bottle. 

WOLFE:  What about the prize fighter, Archie?

ARCHIE:  Hunter?  Well, I phoned the hotel he lives in before you got up.

WOLFE:  And?

ARCHIE:  They told me he wasn't in.

WOLFE:  Hmm.  You know, I'm beginning to think Mr. Oliphant brought us a more absorbing case than he suspected. 

ARCHIE:  I'm glad you like it.

WOLFE:  I don't like it.  I don't like work of any variety.  But this thing has its points.

ARCHIE:  What do we do next?

WOLFE:  Next we investigate my client.

ARCHIE:  What?

WOLFE:  Merely because a reformed playboy employs a detective doesn't exempt him from suspicion, Archie.

SOUND: DOOR BUZZER

ARCHIE:  Now who's that?

WOLFE:  I'm afraid we have no choice but to open the door and see. 

BARSTOW:  My name is Young.  Barstow Young.

ARCHIE:  It's nice meeting you, Mr. Young.  What do you want?

BARSTOW:  I want to see Nero Wolfe?

ARCHIE:  About?

BARSTOW:  About a certain young lady with whom I am deeply in love.

ARCHIE:  Wha...Would you repeat that.

BARSTOW:  I want to see Mr. Wolfe about a certain young lady with whom I am deeply in love. 

ARCHIE:  Her name, please?

BARSTOW:  Ilsa Dana.

ARCHIE:  Is is possible that you entertain plans of making her your wife?

BARSTOW:  Yes, but there's a problem involved -

ARCHIE:  Another man?

BARSTOW:  Well...yes. 

ARCHIE:  Then do come in.  I think we've been waiting for you. 

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS

ARCHIE:  Oh Mr. Wolfe?  Here's another one.

BARSTOW:  Ah, Mr Wolfe!

WOLFE:  You've come to me about Miss Ilsa Dana, sir?

BARSTOW:  I have come to you, more specifically, about a man who has threatened her life. 

WOLFE:  Mmm.

ARCHIE:  How unusual.

BARSTOW:  He's the treacherous kind.  Mild mannered, you know?  As we say in my profession, he under-plays it. 

WOLFE:  Your profession then, is the stage.

BARSTOW:  It is, sir. 

WOLFE:  Go on.  You interest me deeply.

BARSTOW:  I was present recently when he told her that he would certainly kill her unless she mended her sinful ways. 

ARCHIE:  Sinful?

BARSTOW:  Well...no one denies that Ilsa has had, shall we say, a checkered career.  But the man's attitude is totally fanatical.

WOLFE:  What's his particular brand of fanaticism, Mr. Young?

BARSTOW:  Theodore Oliphant is a religious maniac. 

ARCHIE:  Well, what do you know.  He's come to give Theodore a bad report card. 

BARSTOW:  I don't understand.  I've come to ask Mr. Wolfe to prevent his murdering Miss Dana. 

WOLFE:  Am I allowed a direct question, sir?

BARSTOW:  Why, of course.

WOLFE:  Where were you between nine and nine-twenty PM last night?

BARSTOW:  Nine and nine-twen --...why do you ask?

WOLFE:  You said I was permitted a direct question. 

BARSTOW:  Oh.  I was...walking.  In the park, as I remember. 

WOLFE:  Do you make a habit of walking in the park?

BARSTOW:  I have lately.  I'm preparing for an important role in a forthcoming production.  What's so important about last night?

WOLFE:  From your point of view a great deal, sir.

BARSTOW:  What do you mean?

WOLFE:  Last night, Miss Ilsa Dana was murdered!

(BEAT)

BARSTOW:  What?!

WOLFE:  Mr. Goodwin here discovered the body. 

BARSTOW:  No --

WOLFE:  I'm afraid it is, Mr. Young. 

BARSTOW:  Well why are you looking at me like that?  Are...are you accusing me of --

WOLFE:  I have accused you of nothing, my dear sir. 

BARSTOW:  Well...uh...now look, you're making a mistake.  Oliphant killed her.  You may be sure of that. 

WOLFE:  I have your word?

BARSTOW:  I know him.  He was trying to reform her.  He wanted to make her a devout follower of his cult, The Seekers of Power.  I heard him tell her, to her face, that if she refused redemption, he would see to it that she didn't live on in her wickedness. 

WOLFE:  You can produce other witnesses?

BARSTOW:  You know, in your own, smug way, you're as detestable a character as I have ever --

SOUND: PHONE RING

ARCHIE:  All right, all right let's everybody take five. 

SOUND: PHONE PICKUP

ARCHIE:  Yeah?

HUNTER (ON PHONE):  Nero Wolfe?

ARCHIE:  He's busy.  This is Archie Goodwin.

HUNTER (ON PHONE):  You'll do, Goodwin.  This is Jack, the Babe, Hunter. 

ARCHIE:  Oh?  How are you?

HUNTER (ON PHONE):  Great.  Except the cops wanna talk to me over some murder fandango because as I get it, you named my name.

ARCHIE:  You got it wrong.

HUNTER (ON PHONE):  I doubt it.  And I'm coming over there to set you straight.

MUSIC: TRANSITION

HUNTER:  Why'd you ring me in on this mess, Wolfe.

WOLFE:  You knew the girl pretty well.

HUNTER:  Me, and how many  more?  Besides, what time was she murdered?

WOLFE:  Last night between nine and nine-twenty.

HUNTER:  I see.

WOLFE:  So if you were to inform the police where you were at that time, that should be that.

HUNTER:  Yeah. 

WOLFE:  By the way, Mr. Hunter, where were you at the  time? 

HUNTER:  I don't see your badge, Wolfe.

WOLFE:  I was only wondering. 

HUNTER:  I haven't been near the Dana woman for over a month.  But if you're really interested, I'll give you the name of the killer. 

WOLFE:  Please do not keep us in suspense, Mr. Hunter. 

HUNTER:  A couple years ago, Ilsa financed a guy in a big and lousy Shakespearean play that closed like a clam in nothing flat. 

WOLFE:  Go on.

HUNTER:  It was money down the drain, but the guy's got nerve.  He was in love with her, and he figured she'd do anything for him.  So he comes back to her to finance him again, this time in ëHamlet', no less.

WOLFE:  I see. 

HUNTER:  I don't need to tell you what a flop that would be.

WOLFE:  You needn't tell me the actor's name, either. 

HUNTER:  You know?

WOLFE:  Mr. Barstow Young just left here. 

HUNTER:  Oh yeah?  He's your man, Wolfe.  He got so soar when she told him she wouldn't toss any more moolah into his broken down career, he went off his rocker and tore her down. 

WOLFE:  Pray tell, what's your reason for thinking so.

HUNTER:  I met him on the street one day and he started beefing about her with blood in his eyes.  It was all I could do not to punch him.

WOLFE:  The results might have been less fatal if you'd followed your instincts, sir. 

HUNTER:  Ah, I couldn't.  Guy's built like a broomstick.  He's weak as a cat.  Hit him once, he'd crack like dry plaster. 

WOLFE:  I see.  Hmm.

HUNTER:  What's on your mind?

WOLFE:  This man you're accusing of Miss Dana's murder, Mr. Hunter, was very much in love with her.  She was thinking about marrying her, he said. 

HUNTER:  He said.

WOLFE:  Yes he did.  I heard him myself. 

HUNTER:  He was talking through his skull cap.  Ilsa wasn't going to marry anybody.

WOLFE:  No?

HUNTER:  No!  She couldn't.

WOLFE:  Why couldn't she?

HUNTER:  Well --.she just couldn't, that's all.  So long!

MUSIC: TRANSITION

ARCHIE:  Well, now we got a perfect circle with everybody pointing at everybody else, and nobody able to prove a thing. 

WOLFE:  What Hunter says isn't impossible, Archie.

ARCHIE:  You think Young did it? 

WOLFE:  I don't think anything at all, yet.  But if there's anything more dangerous than a woman scorned, it's an actor scorned. 

SOUND: DOOR BUZZER

WOLFE:  We have another visitor.

ARCHIE:  Who are you expecting?

WOLFE:  At this point, anybody.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS, THEN A DOOR OPENS.

ELEVATOR BOY:  Hi.

ARCHIE:  Oh, you.

ELEVATOR BOY:  Yeah, I told you you might hear from me. 

ARCHIE:  Come on in. 

SOUND: SHUFFLED FOOTSTEPS

WOLFE:  Who's this?

ARCHIE:  Fella runs the elevator at 22 Blanton Street.  What do you got for me, kid?

ELEVATOR BOY:  Post card.

ARCHIE:  Post card?

ELEVATOR BOY:  Here.  The cops missed it, but I spotted the edge stuck under a rug. 

WOLFE:  Nice of you to deliver yet.

ARCHIE:  Or maybe he was just being curious.

ELEVATOR BOY:  Curious! 

ARCHIE:  It's not every elevator boy who has a chance to see Nero Wolfe in the flesh. 

ELEVATOR BOY:  Who, him?  Come off it, high pockets.  I'm here because you mentioned something about spending a few bucks.  I wouldn't cross the street to see the best gumshoe that ever breathed. 

ARCHIE:  Look, gumshoes don't breath and how would you like a sock in the --

WOLFE:  Archie, pay him and let him go.

ELEVATOR BOY:  Yeah, pay me and let me go.

ARCHIE:  Sure, Mr. Wolfe. 

SOUND: A FEW BILLS SHUFFLED

ARCHIE:  Here you are.  Thanks

ELEVATOR BOY:  Don't mention it.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS MOVING OFF

ELEVATOR BOY:  (MOVING OFF) Any time, pal.  Any time. 

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES

ARCHIE:  How do you like that fresh little punk. 

WOLFE:  Archie, the lad has done us nobly. 

ARCHIE:  Yeah?

WOLFE:  A typewritten card addressed to Miss Ilsa Dana.

ARCHIE:  What's it say?

WOLFE:  A rather peculiar message.  'Have you prayed tonight?'  Signed with a single letter ëO'. 

ARCHIE:  Have you prayed tonight?

WOLFE:  Yes.

ARCHIE:  Signed, ëO'?

WOLFE:  Exactly.  Weird, isn't it?

ARCHIE:  What's weird about it?  Nothing could be plainer.  'Have you prayed tonight?'  Now I ask you, who is the man in this deal that's interested in praying?

WOLFE:  All of us, I hope are God-fearing.

ARCHIE:  All right, but I ask you again, what does ëO' stand for?

WOLFE:  It could stand for O'Brien, obituary, Omaha --

ARCHIE:  What about Oliphant? 

WOLFE:  Oliphant too.

ARCHIE:  What's with this indifference?  The case is cracking and you slough it off.  You remember what Young said?  Oliphant threatened to kill her because she wouldn't join that cock eyed movement of his. 

WOLFE:  Don't exhaust yourself, Archie.  We have a hard night ahead.

ARCHIE:  Yes, but I don't understand --

WOLFE:  I don't mean to stifle your imagination, my friend.  But if you'd reserve your deductions for a little while, you could lend me some much-needed assistance.

ARCHIE:  What do you want?

WOLFE:  I want you to become a burglar.

ARCHIE:  A burglar?

WOLFE:  I want you to hurry over to the dead woman's apartment on Branton Street, and ransack it.

ARCHIE:  For what?

WOLFE:  How do I know?  We need help.  Anything may help us.  Go through the place with a fine tooth comb.

MUSIC: TRANSITION

ARCHIE:  I tore the late Ilsa Dana's apartment to shreds but I saw nothing.  Then, just as I was about to give it up as a bum job, I noticed a little writing desk in the living room.  Pried the lock and spotted something among the pile of papers that didn't belong in any well-to-do flat.  It was a pawn ticket; lot 8M046, and the address was a pawn shop around the corner on sixth avenue.  It wasn't more than ninety seconds later I walked into the joint and tossed the ticket across the counter. 

PAWNBROKER:  Oh this, yeah.  You wanna redeem it?

ARCHIE:  And fast, pops.

PAWNBROKER:  It's nothing that's worth much, mister. 

ARCHIE:  No? 

PAWNBROKER:  No. 

ARCHIE:  Well what is it?

PAWNBROKER:  This.

SOUND: METAL BOX THUMPS ON THE TABLE

PAWNBROKER:  Small steel filing box.

ARCHIE:  Hm.  Anything in it?

PAWNBROKER:  I don't know.  Came to me locked, never been able to get it open.

MUSIC: TRANSITION, DOWN AND UNDER

ARCHIE:  We got it open, Wolfe and I.  Smashed the front in with a poker.  There were some odds and ends inside, old earrings, some thumbtacks, a cigarette lighter, just trash.  Then the boss stuck his fingers in and pulled out a plum. 

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING

WOLFE:  This is it.

ARCHIE:  What do you mean, this is it?

WOLFE:  You fail to recognize this classic document?

ARCHIE:  Huh?

WOLFE:  A marriage license, Archie.  A marriage license.

ARCHIE:  Yeah, well who's marriage license?

SOUND: PAPER UNFOLDED

WOLFE:  The wording is self-explanatory, listen.  This is to certify, etc, etc thus licensing on this third day of May, 1946, the marriage of Miss Ilsa Dana, and Mr. Johann Jagar.

ARCHIE:  Johann Jagar?

WOLFE:  Exactly.

ARCHIE:  Well who in the world is Johann Jagar?

WOLFE:  We'll soon see. 

ARCHIE:  I don't get it.

WOLFE:  I can understand.  It's a befuddling little puzzle.  It would be very easy for one to make a fatal mistake here. 

ARCHIE:  But of course, you won't.

WOLFE:  I won't.

MUSIC: TRANSITION

ARCHIE:  Three hours later, I'd herded all the suspects into the office.  Wolfe sat in his chair and glared at them, Oliphant, Young and Hunter.  It was tense and tight and the boss let it stay that way, saying not a word to anybody while he calmly sipped his beer.  It was Oliphant who cracked first.

OLIPHANT:  I didn't kill Ilsa, I couldn't have!

WOLFE:  Jealousy is a very compelling motive, Mr. Oliphant.  And you came to me -- you'll remember -- complaining there was another man in Ilsa Dana's life.

OLIPHANT:  Whatever I complained about, as jealous as I was, I didn't kill her as the sacred power as my holy judge. 

WOLFE:  Being unacquainted with your sacred power, I'll have to ask you for a better authority.

BARSTOW:  Sacred power, ha!

OLIPHANT:  It simply wouldn't have been possible for me to have done it.

WOLFE:  Why not?

HUNTER:  Yeah, why not?

OLIPHANT:  Because I...I --
   (BEAT)
  I was at Mickey's Night Owl Club last night from seven until four A.M.

ARCHIE:  Contemplating the sacred power, no doubt. 

WOLFE:  That can be proved, Mr. Oliphant?

OLIPHANT:  Let me call now, let the head waiter tell you.

WOLFE:  Hmm.  I will take your embarrassment as an indication you're telling the truth. 

ARCHIE:  Hey, wait a minute.  You can't let him off like that!

WOLFE:  Don't be bothersome, Archie. 

ARCHIE:  Yeah, but we got that card he wrote that said 'Have you prayed tonight?' signed with his initial. 

WOLFE:  He didn't write that card, Archie.

ARCHIE:  Now look --

WOLFE:  And the ëO' is not his initial, is it Mr. Barstow Young?

BARSTOW:  I'm afraid I don't understand. 

WOLFE:  On the contrary, I'm afraid you do.  But for the record, I'll explain.  Oh, Archie?

ARCHIE:  Yes boss?

WOLFE:  Hand Mr. Young that large, red volume off the shelf behind Mr Hunter's head. 

ARCHIE:  (SLIGHTLY OFF) This one?

WOLFE:  That one, thank you.  Now then, Mr. Young, you will favor me by opening the volume to page eleven thirty-three. 

BARSTOW:  But why?

WOLFE:  Open it, sir.

SOUND: LEATHER-BOUND BOOK OPEN, PAGES TURN.

WOLFE:  Good.  You will now count six lines down from the top and read what you see. 

(PAUSE)

BARSTOW:  Have you...prayed tonight?

WOLFE:  Thank you, Mr. Young.

ARCHIE:  What the devil is going on? 

WOLFE:  Mr. Young has just given us a reading from a tragedy.  The line, ëHave you prayed tonight?' is spoken by the hero to the heroine just before he murders her.  The name of the heroine is Desdemona.  And the hero, as I'm sure you all know, is Othello. 

ARCHIE:  Othello?

WOLFE:  The ëO' was not for Oliphant, Archie.  Othello, I think, was the Shakespearean play that Miss Dana financed for our Mr. Young.  And knowing she would recognize the quotation as well as the threat behind it, he sent it to her to warn her that he meant to murder her.  You won't have the unmitigated gall to deny that, will you Mr. Young?

BARSTOW:  No.  No, I don't deny it --

ARCHIE:  Do I call the police?

BARSTOW:  But I didn't kill her.  The fact that I sent the card doesn't mean I killed her.

ARCHIE:  Well it will do for my money!

WOLFE:  But not for mine, Archie.

ARCHIE:  What?!

WOLFE:  Mr. Young couldn't have killed Miss Dana.

HUNTER:  Why not?

WOLFE:  Because he lacks the strength to strangle such a healthy young woman, a champion athlete, wide awake and full of fight.  He was rather afraid of her, as we know.  And smothering Miss Dana with that pillow was no easy task.  She struggled.  Therefore, she clawed the wrists of the murderer.  I'm sure that if you examine Mr. Young's wrists, you will find no scratches or scars. 

ARCHIE:  Here, lemme see.

BARSTOW:  Go ahead.

(BEAT)

WOLFE:  Well Archie?

ARCHIE:  Yeah, you're right.  Nothing.

WOLFE:  I was sure there wouldn't be.  The person to kill Miss Dana was a powerful, physical specimen. 

HUNTER:  Yeah? 

WOLFE:  Yes, Mr. Hunter.  In all probability, a professional athlete.  A muscular man in good condition.

HUNTER:  You pointing at me? 

WOLFE:  Seems quite likely, doesn't it?

HUNTER:  You're out of your head. 

WOLFE:  Am I?

HUNTER:  Yeah!

WOLFE:  Ilsa Dana ihr meine frau, nict wahr!

HUNTER:  Jawohl...I mean...uh


WOLFE:  You said, ëJa' Mr. Hunter.  And you meant ëJa'.  Yes.  I asked you, in German, if Ilsa Dana was your wife, and you, in the heat of emotion, answered me in your mother tongue. 

ARCHIE:  Look, what's going on here?

WOLFE:  Allow me to present Mr. Johann Jagar, Archie. 

ARCHIE:  Him?

WOLFE:  I've known it since we first saw that marriage license. You see, Jack Hunter is the English translation of our friend's name back in Germany where he comes from.

ARCHIE:  Well what do you know?

HUNTER:  So you proved nothing.  Yeah, I was married to Ilsa.  That's why I said he couldn't marry anybody else.  But I didn't kill her!  She was my wife, I loved her!

WOLFE:  Oliphant told me you were insanely jealous of her.

HUNTER:  What if he did?  You know better.

WOLFE:  Do we?

HUNTER:  Sure you do!  Ilsa told you herself over the phone that everything Oliphant said was a lie!

WOLFE:  Interesting!

HUNTER:  What is?

WOLFE:  How you could possibly know what Ilsa Dana told me over the phone.  I haven't mentioned it to you or anybody else.

HUNTER:  Oh...well...well you see --

WOLFE:  I see most clearly, Mr. Jagar.  That you must have been in the apartment with her, listening on the extension phone or you couldn't possibly have that information.  And it was only a few minutes after that telephone call that Ilsa Dana was smothered to death!

HUNTER:  And I see it's about time I say goodnight!

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS, SHUFFLING, A STRUGGLE. 

WOLFE:  Good work, Archie.  I'd advise you to sit still, Mr. Johann Jagar Hunter.

OLIPHANT:  I was right.  I told you he threatened to kill her!

BARSTOW:  But why!

WOLFE:  I only guessed at the story, reconstructed it so to say.  But I think you and Mr. Young are to be congratulated. 

BARSTOW:  On what, sir?

WOLFE:  On not having won your fair lady.  You've always thought of her as a sweet, demure society girl.  But actually, she was a vicious person, as bad as the man who killed her if not worse.  She tortured him cruelly for four long years. 

OLIPHANT:  How can you say that about her?!

WOLFE:  How can you doubt it, Mr. Oliphant?  There must have been a great many men in her life.  We know of at least two, definitely.  You and Mr. Young. 

OLIPHANT:  But she was in love with me.

BARSTOW:  She was in love with me.

WOLFE:  I'm sorry to shatter your illusions but she was not in love with either of you.  She was using you for her purpose.

OLIPHANT:  What was her purpose?

WOLFE:  Demeaning the man she married, that was her preoccupation day and night.  She delighted in terrorizing him, as one might in breaking a bull or taming a wild mustang.  Do I come near the truth, Hunter? 

HUNTER:  Yes.   Until I couldn't stand it any longer.

WOLFE:  May I ask, then, why you married her?

HUNTER:  Why?  Because I couldn't help myself.  I crawled before her.  I married her on the terms that nobody should ever know I was her husband.  She was too good for me, she told me that to my face over and over.  She said we belonged in different worlds.  But I was crazy about her so I took it.  What I've taken, you wouldn't believe.

WOLFE:  Oh, I'm sure I would, Mr. Hunter.  I'm a very understanding man.  The question is, will a jury believe you.  And that is something we must begin to learn immediately.  Archie?

ARCHIE:  Yessir?

WOLFE:  Phone for Inspector Kramer.

MUSIC: BIG RESOLVE

ANNOUNCER:  You have been listening to the New Adventures of Nero Wolfe, starring Justin Kapla!

MUSIC: END THEME

CREDITS