Candy Matson--Yukon 2-8209
The Insurance Crash
Date: Jan 02 1950
The Insurance Crash
by Monte Masters
CANDY MATSON...............Genius Detective
RAY MALLARD........Her flatfoot love interest
REMBRANDT WATSON........Able assistant
GORDAN AYERS.....................The Culprit
FOLGER.....The cold-footed co-conspirator
CRANSTON..................The flying expert
SOUND: PHONE RINGING. HANDSET PICKUP
CANDY: Hello, Yukon 28-209.
(BEAT)
Yes, this is Candy Matson.
MUSIC: THEME UP, THEN DOWN AND CONTINUED UNDER
ANNOUNCER: The National Broadcasting Company presents Candy Matson, Yukon 28-209.
MUSIC: THEME UP, THEN RESOLVE OUT.
SOUND: DOOR KNOCK
CANDY: Just a moment! People can barge in on you at the...where is that robe. No, not THAT robe. Well, it's better than nothing. Wait a second!
SOUND: DOOR OPEN.
MALLARD: Hi, Candy.
CANDY: Well Mallard, my favorite foot-flat. You caught me at the wrong time.
MALLARD: Depends on your viewpoint. Shall I leave?
CANDY: Oh no, come on in.
SOUND: DOOR CLOSE
CANDY: What brings you up to Telegraph Hill, Mallard dear?
MALLARD: You.
CANDY: An interesting subject. Care for a drink?
MALLARD: No, I'm on duty.
CANDY: You mean I'm being honored with an official call?
MALLARD: Sort of.
CANDY: (ANNOYED) In that case, you can leave.
MALLARD: Seriously though, Candy. You can help me, if you're willing.
CANDY: Well! The mountain coming to the mountain.
MALLARD: Oh, you're not so large.
CANDY: (VERY ANNOYED) Now you can leave!
MALLARD: Only kidding. Here's the pitch, an acquaintance of mine, Gordon Ayers, has a little problem on his hands and needs your help.
CANDY: What is this?
MALLARD: Don't get excited, Candy. He's an insurance adjuster for an aviation outfit here in San Francisco. A couple of months ago, a guy and his wife took off in a private plane from one of those little airports down the peninsula, and crashed. She burned to death. Ayers investigated and okayed the claim for a rather fancy amount. But his company doesn't like it. They don't think the crash was legit.
CANDY: It gets interesting.
MALLARD: He has to prove he was right. He came to me and asked us to verify the facts. But we're the San Francisco Police and that's out of our jurisdiction.
CANDY: So?
MALLARD: So, I mentioned you. He wants to meet you and have a little talk. If you can get the guy out of the soup, there's a nice little hunk of cabbage in it for you.
CANDY: Mallard, I'll take it, but there's something phony.
MALLARD: How do you mean, Candy?
CANDY: This is the first time you've ever given me a helping hand in my private eyeing.
MALLARD: Could be there's a reason.
CANDY: Could be a reason why I'm going to take the case, too. Must be the rabbit in me. I love to nibble on large hunks of cabbage.
MUSIC: TRANSITION, DOWN AND CONTINUED UNDER
ANNOUNCER: Do you recall the lyrics from that old song, the one that goes: 'He floats through the air with the greatest of ease'? Well, that's what happened to Candy Matson, one of San Francisco's better known private investigators. She found herself floating through the air all right, but not with the greatest of ease. As a matter of fact, it was one of the most hair raising experiences this gal detective ever ran into. Well, why go on about it. Here she is to tell you about it herself.
MUSIC: RESOLVE OUT.
CANDY: Well, that's the way it started. Inspector Ray Mallard, an old friend of mine (and that's all I can call him, darn it. An old friend) dropped by insisted I meet one Gordon Ayers, an aviation insurance adjuster. Two things induced me to take the deal; Mallard's big spaniel-like eyes, and the money angle. It was right after Christmas and I was a bit short.
SOUND: ROTARY PHONE DIAL, CONTINUED UNDER.
CANDY: Mallard left and I took the slip of paper with Ayers' phone number on it, cozied up with Alexander Graham Bell and doodled with the dial.
SOUND: A COUPLE OF ON-LINE RINGS. OVER-LINE HANDSET PICKUP
AYERS (ON PHONE): Good afternoon. Pacific Seaboard Fidelity.
CANDY: How do you do. Is there a Mr Gordan Ayers there?
AYERS (ON PHONE): Speaking.
CANDY: Inspector Mallard suggested I call you, Mr. Ayers. This is Candy Matson.
AYERS (ON PHONE): Oh! Miss Matson, happy to know you. I imagine Mallard explained my dilemma?
CANDY: Not in detail, no.
AYERS (ON PHONE): Well, the situation is quite complicated. I was wondering if we could meet and discuss it at length. Can we get together this afternoon?
CANDY: If you say so, yes.
AYERS (ON PHONE): Time is of the utmost importance, Miss Matson.
CANDY: All right. You call it, Mr. Ayers.
AYERS (ON PHONE): Splendid. I'm just leaving the office now. I have an appointment down the peninsula in an hour. Do you have a car?
CANDY: Yes, I do.
AYERS (ON PHONE): Could you meet me at the San Mateo Airport? Cranston Flying Service.
CANDY: That's okay. About an hour and a half?
AYERS (ON PHONE): Hour and half, fine. Goodbye, Miss Matson.
MUSIC: TRANSITION, DOWN AND CONTINUED UNDER.
CANDY: This, I didn't like. Already I was money in the hole. San Mateo Airport, right on water next to Bay Meadows, separated by the highway and a couple of salt marshes. Why should I have to meet the guy down there? Oh, me.
Well, I drove down to the San Mateo Airport, found the Cranston Flying Service building and got out of the car and waited. It was a nice afternoon, so I stood watching some of the planes take off and land.
MUSIC: TRANSITION OUT.
SOUND: PLANE ENGINE ROARS BY.
AYERS: Uh pardon me, you aren't by any chance...no, of course not.
CANDY: No, I'm not by any chance. I'm Candy Matson. Are you Mr. Ayers?
AYERS: That's right. I didn't expect anyone quite so young.
CANDY: Well, did you want to talk, Mr. Ayers, or just stand there like a sea bass out of water?
AYERS: Oh, pardon me. I want to talk of course. By the way, have you ever flown?
CANDY: On commercial airlines, many times. Why?
AYERS: Would you like to take a little hop this afternoon?
CANDY: (NERVOUS) Hmm? Well...what's that got to do with I'm here?
AYERS: Plenty. It'll give you a picture of what I'm up against.
CANDY: In what do we fly? And who's going to be our guiding angel?
AYERS: We'll probably fly in that Cesna over there. And I shall do the piloting.
CANDY: Well, I don't know. Have you been flying long?
AYERS: (CHUCKLES) About twenty years. And I also flew for Uncle Sam in the late mess over Germany.
CANDY: Okay, I'll take your word for it.
AYERS: Good! Let's go to the office.
CANDY: Mother told me there would be days like this. Candy, she used to say, never leave the house without your parachute.
MUSIC: TRANSITION, CONTINUED UNDER
CANDY: We slipped through some prop wash, and I displayed some silk that didn't belong to a parachute. Then on into the building that housed the Cranston office. It was typical. A glass topped counter with various trophies hung about the walls, old propellers, silver cups, pictures of planes and assorted certificates. Ayers plopped his wallet on the counter, and the chap behind it proceeded to check him out. We went out onto the field and climbed into the plane. Then Ayers gunned the motor and we were taking off.
MUSIC: TRANSITION OUT.
SOUND: PROP PLANE FLY BY, CROSS FADE WITH PROP PLANE INTERIOR, DOWN AND CONTINUED UNDER.
CANDY: This is all very cozy, Mr. Ayers. But what's the idea?
AYERS: There's a very definite reason for it, Miss Matson. Do you see that tower down there?
CANDY: Um hmm.
AYERS: No no, that tower down there, toward Redwood City.
CANDY: Oh, yes, I see it.
AYERS: That's where we're going. About a mile east of that there's a private airport run by a man named Folger. We're going to simulate a landing at that field.
CANDY: I'm still not with it.
AYERS: I want you to notice all the physical qualities of that field as we come in for a landing. Notice the boundaries, the hazards and the amount of free space a plane has, especially a light plane
CANDY: You make me feel like a later day Nellie Bly. Okay Mr. Ayers, let's go. I'll watch.
MUSIC: DRAMATIC STING, CONTINUED DOWN AND UNDER
CANDY: Fascinated as I am by flying, I started looking around. The lower end of the bay on our left, the skyline on our right, and bustling peninsula directly beneath us. I was shocked out of my revelry when the plane turned on its side and we we cut sharply to our right and out over the bay. I thought Ayers had lost control of the ship but no, it was just a routine bank. Then another bank right and we were nosing down toward airfield down in front of us.
MUSIC: FADE OUT
SOUND: AIRPLANE INTERIOR, FADE IN AND CONTINUE UNDER.
AYERS: Did I startle you?
CANDY: A little. It's all right now that I know we're not playing tag with gravity.
AYERS: I'm going to cut the throttle now and nose in for a fake landing.
CANDY: I'm glad you told me. I'll know how to behave.
AYERS: Keep your eyes open, Miss Matson. You see any high tension lines around the airport?
CANDY: No.
AYERS: Any fences, highways, or any other obstructions?
CANDY: Um..no. No I don't.
AYERS: Now look, this is a normal landing.
CANDY: Um hmm.
AYERS: If I were to set the plane down here, I'd be about a mile from the waterfront. And then if I taxied about the usual amount, I'd be up by those hangers. Any problems about that?
CANDY: None that I can see at the moment.
AYERS: Look carefully. See anything at all? Anything?
CANDY: Nope. If I didn't know better, I'd say we're in the Sahara.
AYERS: Okay. I'm going to give her the gun.
SOUND: AIRPLANE MOTOR UP
MUSIC: DRAMATIC TRANSITION
CANDY: Without the wheels touching the ground, we were climbing back into the sky and toward the San Mateo Airport. In less than a minute, Ayers brought the plane in for a neat landing. We were over a very dry martini at a little spot next door.
MUSIC: OUT
CANDY: Okay, we've played charades long enough, Mr. Ayers. Cut me in on the plot.
AYERS: It's merely this: the man who owns that airport, Folger, was out flying with his life one afternoon. Brand new plane, they came in for a normal landing just as we did. As far as I can make out, the plane nosed over and caught fire. He escaped, his wife didn't. As the adjuster on the case I voted straight accident and asked my company to pay the claim.
CANDY: And they didn't like the idea.
AYERS: You know how insurance companies are, Miss Matson. Naturally, they have to be suspicious. But in this case, their fears are groundless.
CANDY: Um hmm. What about Folger? Where is he now?
AYERS: Still running the airport.
CANDY: Now, Let's get down to cases, Mr. Ayers. Just why did I get the free plane ride this afternoon?
AYERS: Well, I've known your friend, Mallard, for some time. I wanted him to sign the affidavit saying the field is perfectly safe for normal flying. He wouldn't do it.
CANDY: Naturally.
AYERS: Naturally, being with the San Francisco police. Then he suggested you. I have to have some licensed representative of the law's signature in order to clear my neck with my company. Today, you say the field for yourself. Will you sign it?
CANDY: Whoa there boy, hold on a minute. Feather your prop.
AYERS: You mean you won't sign it?
CANDY: I didn't say that. But I don't say anything until I read the fine print, not even for my pal Mallard. I'll tell you what I'm going to do now, I'm going to leave now -- after I have another olive and what comes with it -- and I'm going home. I'll call you tomorrow afternoon and --
AYERS: But Miss Matson you have to --
CANDY: Don't start to argue, Mr. Ayers. After my second olive, I get very stubborn.
MUSIC: TRANSITION, CONTINUED UNDER
CANDY: This got wilder by the moment. I was supposed to sign and affidavit clearing this joker on the basis of a thirty second buzz over a cow pasture? Oh no! I wasn't going to get caught with my flaps down. Not for Mallard or anybody. I drove home to my penthouse on Telegraph Hill, dished up a warm tub, some warm soup and some warm blankets and then blacked out for the nights. In the morning, I drove over the California street near old St. Mary's. I wanted to see a good luck piece of mine, Rembrandt Watson. Rembrandt's a photographer. And tops in his profession now that's he's not supplying the rent for all the bartenders on the Barbary Coast.
MUSIC: THEME UP, AND STING-OUT
REMBRANDT: Candy, my lily! Greetings!
CANDY: You know, if I was a G.I. I'd slug you for that. How are you, Rembrandt?
REMBRANDT: Strickly Tre Bon! That's French.
CANDY: That's your opinion. And that's English.
REMBRANDT: Oh, dove. You look as well scrubbed as Mount Babel after a rain fall.
CANDY: (SARCASTIC) There's a romantic parallel.
REMBRANDT: What brings you out on this lovely day?
CANDY: This lovely day. How would you like to go for a little drive, ducky?
REMBRANDT: Let's see, I was supposed to have tea with Diogenes Murphy, the honest Irishman, but he'll understand. Yes, I'd love it. Where are we going and why?
CANDY: San Mateo. And for why, I don't know.
REMBRANDT: Well, that's San Mateo for you. Anyone else going with us?
CANDY: No, just the two of us.
REMBRANDT: Good. Than I shant have to ride in the tunnel. Wait just a moment, dove. I'll set up Henry me Great Dane with a brisket or two and I'll be right with you.
MUSIC: TRANSITION CONTINUED UNDER
CANDY: Rembrandt fed his monster, we piled into the car and whisked off to San Mateo. On the way down I tried to plot a course of action. It wasn't easy. As my friend Ayers had said, the airfield was free from flaws and...where do you go from there? I was soon to find out.
MUSIC: TRANSITION UP AND OUT
SOUND: ENGINE IN, SHUT OFF
REMBRANDT: Is this our destination, Dove?
CANDY: That's right.
REMBRANDT: Arid little spot, what?
CANDY: Yes.
REMBRANDT: Reminds me of recruiting posters I used to see for the Foreign Legion.
SOUND: CAR DOORS OPEN, CLOSE. THEN FOOTSTEPS ON GRASS, CONTINUED UNDER
CANDY: Come on, Rembrandt. I want to see something.
REMBRANDT: What, Dove?
CANDY: The other side of this hanger over here.
REMBRANDT: What's over there?
CANDY: The burnt fuselage of a plane.
REMBRANDT: Candy, girl. Your sense of the macabre knows no bounds.
CANDY: Can't help it, this is business.
SOUND: FOOTSTEPS CONTINUE FOR A BEAT OR TWO
REMBRANDT: Is that the one?
CANDY: I should imagine so.
(BEAT)
Umm, quite a mess, isn't it? What a horrible way to go. Look it over, Rembrandt. Anything strike you as strange?
REMBRANDT: Wait a moment...yes. Why are their tattered pieces of fabric on this side of the plane, and on the other...nothing but melted steel frame?
CANDY: Good point, laddy. And another thing, look inside the cabin there, the safety belt on the other side -- in tact.
REMBRANDT: So it is.
CANDY: And I should sign affidavits yet. Wait till I see that Mallard.
FOLGER: Pardon me, was there something you wanted?
CANDY: Oh! Uh, how do you do?
REMBRANDT: I don't like his looks, dear.
FOLGER: Did you want a ride, is that why you're here? We have Cubs, Cesnas, just about anything.
CANDY: No, nothing like that?
FOLGER: Then what is it? I happen to own this airport. And I don't like people poking about.
CANDY: The owner, then you must be Mr Folger.
FOLGER: Why...yes. That's right. Who are you?
CANDY: Santa Claus. A little late. Come on, Mr. Folger. Let's go into your office. I'm sure we have a lot to talk about.
MUSIC: TRANSITION
CANDY: Folger led the way, and we went into a little quonset hut kind of building that served as the airport office. There were no trophies here. Nothing but bareness. On one side was a pot bellied stove, and on the other a mangy looking parrot inside a cage. Folger motioned us to a couple of farmhouse chairs and set down himself in one that swiveled.
FOLGER: Now then, what's this all about?
CANDY: I'm Candy Matson. This is my friend Mr. Watson.
FOLGER: I see.
CANDY: I'll be frank with you, Mr. Folger. I'm working with a Mr. Gordon Ayers with the Pacific Seaboard Fidelity Company.
FOLGER: What?
CANDY: That's right. And they're holding up payment of your claim until Ayers can get a signed affidavit verifying his judgment.
SOUND: PARROT SQUAWKS, THEN SAYS 'FIDELITY' A FEW TIMES
CANDY: What the --
FOLGER: Pay no attention, Miss Matson. That fool parrot picks up anything you say.
SOUND: PARROT SQUAWKS A FEW TIMES
FOLGER: I must admit, this is somewhat of a shock.
CANDY: I thought it would be. Is there anything you can do to help me? Pictures, diagrams, anything like that?
FOLGER: Yes, I have a complete file. Including a newspaper photograph of the crash itself.
CANDY: May I see them?
SOUND: PARROT 'NEWSPAPER! NEWSPAPER!'
FOLGER: Quiet, you idiot!
SOUND: PARROT 'QUIET YOU IDIOT! QUIET YOU IDIOT!'
FOLGER: Yes, you may see them. I keep them in my apartment in the city. If you care to drop by this evening, I'll show them too you.
CANDY: Good. Suppose you give me a call when you get in town. Candy Matson, Yukon 28-209.
FOLGER: I'll write that down.
SOUND: PARROT 'CANDY MATSON! CANDY MATSON!'
CANDY: That's right, Polly.
SOUND: PARROT 'N.C. 98012'
FOLGER: I said quiet! Oh, some day I'll wring that blasted bird's neck. The only reason I keep her around is she belonged to my wife.
(BEAT)
Uh...I'll call you this evening, Miss Matson.
MUSIC: TRANSITION, CONTINUED UNDER
CANDY: We left the place, got back into the car, drove down the road and ducked into a little clump of trees well hidden. Rembrandt looked at me as if I was losing my mind. But in about ten minutes we heard the sound of a car coming from the airport. It roared past us and at the wheel was...Folger. That's all I wanted. I drove us back to the quonset hut, fully expecting the place to be locked tighter than a drum, but it wasn't. The door was wide open.
MUSIC: THEME OUT
REMBRANDT: What's the idea, Candy?
CANDY: I'm not sure, Rembrandt. It's just a hunch. That open door, though, means we're going to have to work fast.
REMBRANDT: Work fast? At what?
CANDY: My telephone number is Yukon. Not N-C something or other. I have a sneaky idea that somewhere back in the recesses of that parrots' memory, I can get the key to this whole thing.
(BEAT)
Hello Polly.
SOUND: PARROT, GENTLE SQUAWKING UNDER
CANDY: Give me a pencil, Rembrandt.
REMBRANDT: Pencil? Ah, here.
CANDY: Thanks. Pretty Polly. Candy Matson, Yukon 2-8209. Pretty Polly. Candy Matson, Yukon 2-8209. Pretty Polly.
SOUND: PARROT, 'CANDY MATSON, CANDY MATSON'
CANDY: N-C. N-C.
SOUND: PARROT, 'N-C 98012.
CANDY: 98012, that's it! Thanks Polly. Come on, Rembrandt. Let's get gone with the wind.
MUSIC: DRAMATIC THEME, CONTINUED UNDER
CANDY: I left Rembrandt off at Diogenes Murphy's place on Van Ness Avenue and drove downtown. I ran into a present day miracle by finding a place to park. Then took the elevator up to the offices of the Pacific Seaboard Fidelity company. I spotted Ayer's office and walked in.
MUSIC: THEME OUT
AYERS: Well, Miss Matson. Sitdown, sitdown. You're as good as your word.
CANDY: Thanks.
AYERS: Got anything for me?
CANDY: I may have but first I want to know if you have anything for me. A little piece of information you've been holding out from your own company, for instance?
AYERS: I don't quite understand you, Miss Matson.
CANDY: I'll come to the point, then. How in the name of Kittyhawk could you possibly pay a claim on that wreck at Folger's airport. The plane was obviously only burned on one side, the passenger's. And also, the passenger's safety belt was still intact, tightly fastened.
AYERS: (CHUCKLES) You're a suspicious little thing, aren't you?
CANDY: Just like the insurance company.
AYERS: I made the same mistake myself. That fuselage you saw was a training plane. It cracked up on a routine flight. No one hurt. The plane in which Mrs. Folger was killed was sold for scrap a week after my formal investigation.
CANDY: Well. Looks like I pulled the trigger on the wrong target.
AYERS: That's all right. As I said, I made the same mistake myself. However, I don't think it was advisable to go down there without consulting me first.
CANDY: Oh?
AYERS: Folger called me on the phone right after you left. You've given him a fine case of the jitters.
CANDY: Look Mr Ayers, I operate in my own manner. If I saw reason to give Folger's cow pasture the once-over, that's as it should be. And if that isn't agreeable to you, you can get another girl!
AYERS: Oh, now wait a moment! I'm sorry. You continue doing as you are.
CANDY: Good.
AYERS: Naturally, you want to be thorough about this thing, and I can't blame you.
CANDY: Right.
AYERS: Uh...now then, what's the next, Miss Matsen?
CANDY: Well, off hand I really don't know. I'll call you first thing in the morning.
AYERS: First thing in the morning. Fine.
MUSIC: SUSPENSE THEME IN, DOWN AND UNDER
CANDY: I knew what the next step was, but I wasn't telling Ayers or anybody. This was more than just working for a commission. I felt I was on to something now and I was going to follow through. I called a friend of mine at an aviation insurance brokerage and got enough night work to keep me going until next St. Swithin's Day. I took my material home and started in. It was a history of every fatal plane crash in the United States for the past ten years. About eleven, I fixed some coffee. About two, I started to nod, pinched my cheeks and snapped out of it. About four, I had some more coffee. At about seven, just as the sky dawned red streaks across the bay, I found what I wanted, exactly what I wanted. It didn't tie together yet, not all of it, but the knot was now begun. It only needed a little tightening. I stretched out on the couch, set the alarm for nine and woke up right on schedule. Once again, I got Ayers on the phone.
MUSIC: THEME OUT.
AYERS (PHONE FILTER): Pacific Seaboard Fidelity, Mr Ayers speaking.
CANDY: Good morning, Mr. Ayers. This is Candy Matson.
AYERS (PHONE FILTER): Good morning, Miss Matson. How do thing's look?
CANDY: If you're referring to me, awful. I've been up all night. By the way, I wonder if we could make that flight again?
AYERS (PHONE FILTER): Flight?
CANDY: Yes. Over Folger's airport? Only this time, I'd like to make an actual landing.
AYERS (PHONE FILTER): Uh...why sure. That can be arranged.
CANDY: And I want Folger to come with us. I want him to describe just what happened as we go along.
AYERS (PHONE FILTER): Uh...well yes. This morning okay?
CANDY: The sooner the better.
AYERS (PHONE FILTER): I'll call him right now, have him get a plane ready. I'll meet you about noon.
MUSIC: SUSPENSE THEME, DOWN AND CONTINUED UNDER
CANDY: Now I had to work fast. I called Mallard, explained the situation and he agreed to get one of his radio technicians and come along with me. We drove back down the peninsula, and I left them both at Cranston's flying service where they went to work. Then I continued on to Folger's airport. It was a little before noon and Folger had the ship on the runway, warming it up.
MUSIC: THEME FADE OUT
SOUND: AIRPLANE ENGINE IDLING, CONTINUED UNDER
CANDY: Hi there, Mr Folger. Seen anything of Ayers?
FOLGER: Yeah, he's in the office. He'll be right out. Come on, you can get in.
CANDY: Okay.
(BEAT)
FOLGER: Here comes Ayers now. Here, I'll help you get in.
CANDY: Okay.
FOLGER: You can sit up front and I'll sit back here.
CANDY: All right
(BOTH GET IN THE TINY COCKPIT AND SIT DOWN)
AYERS (COMING ON) Right on time, I see Miss Matson.
CANDY: Yes.
AYERS: Got the plane all gassed up, Folger?
FOLGER: Yeah, all set.
AYERS: Well, I guess we can take off.
SOUND: DOOR SLAM
AYERS: Here we go.
SOUND: ENGINE REV AND PLANE TAKES OFF.
AYERS: Now then, Miss Matson, what's your plan?
CANDY: Just do what you did before. Circle out over the bay, then come in for a normal landing.
AYERS: Okay. I'll bank her here.
CANDY: Fine.
SOUND: ENGINE ROARS UP, THEN BACK DOWN AND UNDER
CANDY: Now, is there any way for Folger to take the wheel?
AYERS: I...I beg your pardon?
CANDY: I said, is there any way for Folger to take the wheel?
AYERS: Why no, I don't think so. He's back there.
CANDY: That's because he can't fly, isn't that right, Folger?
FOLGER: Uh...what's she talking about, Ayers?
AYERS: I don't know. She must be out of her head. I'm not taking any chances with her. I'm going to set this ship down right now.
CANDY: The way you set it down with Folger's wife in it!? So she burned beyond recognition.
AYERS: Why you --
CANDY: I can get the whole story, Ayers. Look at Folger, white as a sheet. You're ready to talk right now, aren't you, Folger?
FOLGER: Yes. I'll talk. I'll tell everything!
CANDY: Including the story about the same kind of crash in Toledo Ohio?
AYERS: All right, you two, don't move. I assure you this gun is very deadly. You, Folger, open the starboard door. Go on, open it!
SOUND: DOOR OPEN. VICIOUS WIND ROARS UNDER
FOLGER: You don't know what you're doing!
AYERS: Oh yes I do! And neither one of you are going to live to tell about it. Go on, Folger, get up by the door!
FOLGER: No! Don't please don't --
SOUND: GUNSHOT
FOLGER: (SCREAMS FALLING AWAY)
(BEAT)
CANDY: What a fine rat you are, Ayers!
AYERS: You're next, Miss Matson. Just a little too smart for your own good, aren't you? I should have known better than to use a dame as the fall guy. Go on, stand up by the cabin door!
CANDY: Sure...Okay. I'll stand up by the cabin --
SOUND: PUNCH
AYERS: (GROANS AS HE'S KNOCKED OUT)
CANDY: Well Candy girl, let's see you get yourself out of this one. I hope Mallard's still listening on this mic. Mallard! Mallard you big dumb cop, can you hear me!
(PAUSE)
MALLARD (OVER RADIO): I can hear you Candy. What's wrong?
CANDY: I had to tap Ayers over the head. What do I do now? I don't know how to fly this thing.
MALLARD (OVER RADIO): Wait a minute! I'll put Cranston on!
CRANSTON (OVER RADIO): This is Cranston, listen carefully. Take the wheel and hold it in the middle. Get your nose up a little. That's it.
CANDY: How am I doing?
CRANSTON (OVER RADIO): Fine. Now look down at the horizontal bars at your feet. Press the left one ever so slightly, and turn the wheel left at the same time.
CANDY: Like this?
CRANSTON (OVER RADIO): Keep your nose up! Just it's just above the horizon. That's it. Keep it there. Better. Now straighten both the bar and the wheel, slowly. Slowly.
CANDY: Got it.
CRANSTON (OVER RADIO): Now you're headed toward San Mateo Airport. Now try to drift off to your right a little, using the opposite technique.
CANDY: Better?
CRANSTON (OVER RADIO): You're doing fine.
MALLARD (OVER RADIO): Hang on, Candy, you're going great!
CRANSTON (OVER RADIO): Now look for the protruding gaget on the right side of the dashboard, marked 'Throttle'. Push it in about a third of the way.
CANDY: I'm falling! Mallard, I'm falling!
CRANSTON (OVER RADIO): No you're not! Just do as I say. You're coming in for a landing. Now don't move the wheel or the bars, until I tell you to.
CANDY: The ground's coming up awfully fast!
CRANSTON (OVER RADIO): You're coming in just right. Get ready. Pull back the wheel just a little. No! Not too much! That's it. Okay now, ride it on in!
SOUND: ROUGH AIRPLANE LANDING
CRANSTON (OVER RADIO): Now kill your ignition! Kill it! Turn off the key!
SOUND: AFTER A MOMENT, ENGINE STOPS
MALLARD (OVER RADIO): Candy, you made it!
(BEAT)
Candy? Candy! Come on, Cranston, let's get out to that plane!
MUSIC: EXCITING TRANSITION
MALLARD: All right, kid?
CANDY: (WOOZY) Yeah. My knees feel like I did the conga from here to L.A. but otherwise I'm all right.
MALLARD: The boys will take care of Ayers. Come on, we've got a report to make.
CANDY: Report?
MALLARD: Sure. I sicked you onto this Ayers guy purposefully.
CANDY: What?
MALLARD: San Mateo didn't want to scare the guy off until they solved the case, so we cut you in on the deal without you knowing it. Candy, you did it! We got a recording of the whole thing made over the plane's radio. Congratulations, Candy. You'll get a nice hunk of dough for this.
CANDY: Nice hunk of dough! Of all the dirty tricks, Mallad I...you...oh, what's the use. I can't ball you out now. I'm airsick!
MUSIC: MAIN THEME IN, DOWN AND UNDER
CANDY: It was a very slick deal. Ayers was a top-notch insurance boy. About five years ago, he met up with Folger. This was in Toledo, Ohio. Folger was married to a very weathly gal, but couldn't get his hands on the any of the money. Ayers hit on a pretty nifty method of mayhem back there. He took out a plane license under Folger's name, fireproofed his half of the plane also the passenger's safety belt. Then one day he came in for a landing, deliberately pancaked the ship, left the motor running and let the crate burn -- with Folger's wife in it. They collected plenty. In those days they had the names of Smith and Jones, or something like that, and Ayers was the insurance adjuster. They moved on to California, took the names Ayers and Folger, and set about to do an encore on the same old act. Folger met another wealthy gal, married her, and set himself up in the airport business. Ayers got himself a job with a San Francisco Insurance outfit and voila! They were ready for another crack up. My suspicions were first lit up when I saw Ayers face. He had more scars and stitches than a well seasoned hockey player. And that broken up fuselage behind Folger's airport, that was another giveaway. It was a test model they'd used to make sure their plans were all set. But the real giveaway was the parrot. What a memory! NC 98012 was the license number of the plane that crashed in Toledo, killing Folger's first wife. The parrot was also her pet, and Folger had kept it for sentimental reasons. He shouldn't ought done it, though. Because through the parrot, I traced the whole thing. It was a nice one-time racket, but they should have quit before the policed tripped them up. Oh yes, Ayers was convicted. And Pacific Seaboard Fidelity rewarded me quite handsomely. But that Mallard, deliberately using me for bait! I got even with him, though. I made him take me deep sea fishing about a week later. Oh, did he get sick. Sea sick! And I just stood there and laughed, laughed!
MUSIC: END THEME CLIMAX UP, AND OUT
ANNOUNCER: Listen again next week at this same time. For excitement and adventure, just dial -
CANDY: Candy Matson, Yukon 28209?
MUSIC: THEME
CREDITS