Thursday, October 29, 2015
Radio Heart Suffolk 96.4 FM, Online Radio Heart Suffolk 96.4 FM Radio internet, Radio Heart Suffolk 96.4 FM UK Radio
Oh, yes, I know him. Have you seen him tonight? Yes. He left in a taxi. When? I don't know. When you get old like me, you don't care what time it is. Approximately how long ago? About minutes, I think. The taxi man woke me up. Everybody wakes me up tonight. Usually I can sleep here. I always sleep here since my husband died. It seems less lonely. Music helps me. Thank you, madam. Come on, Paul. That's all, thank you. He's running for it, huh? We'll get him. You cover the Yellow Cab stand, see if you can pick up the driver. I'll cover the independent garages. OK. Hey! Open up! I know you're in there! Open up, you dirty rat! Open radio Where's the lieutenant? Sign this. He's in there. Lieutenant, we got a break on this. One of the porters saw Paine stick it in a locker. Oh, good. Here's the cab driver's statement. "Picked up a fare at Pike Street at around :." Is that right? That's right. You recognise this bag? Yeah, the guy was carryin' it when he came out of the house. I noticed the name: Kenneth something. Yeah, Kenneth Paine. He had a bandage under one eye. Yeah, piece of tape. Which eye? Uh, the radio left eye, like this. Under the left eye. Thanks, you can go. We know where to get you. Looks like we have a definite line on Paine, Lieutenant. The ticket agent at Penn station sold him a ticket to Pittsburgh. Evidently trying to throw us off. He's probably holed up in town. No line on the girl, Lieutenant. Keep calling, Benson. Scalise thinks she was either an actress or a model. Call the agencies on both, as soon as they open in the morning. Call CB and have them teletype Paine's description to Pittsburgh. Dixon, take yourself a rest. You too, Klein, then get busy on the hotels. Communication, please. I'm going home for a few hours. Knock off, Casey, and then report back at eight. Good night, boys. Teletype the following description to Pittsburgh: age, about radio Give me Communications. Height, six feet one. Weight, lbs. Hair, dark. Build, average radio You look beat, Mark. Don't you feel good? Hey, Mark, you awake? Yeah. We've got a line on the girl. Her name is Morgan Taylor, from Washington Heights. I got her number. What is it? Wentworth . Wentworth . All right, all right. Hello. Does Morgan Taylor live there? Yeah, she lives here. No, she ain't here now. She's gone to work. Who's callin'? Never mind, I'll call her later. She's gone to work. Have you got her employment address? Here it is. Friedman and Lyon, Eighth Avenue. Very nice. But too high-style for my customers. Maybe we could make a bolero, Oleg. I'll sketch it. Mmm, I'm not sure. I'll let you know when I send the order in. Thank you, Morgan. It's OK with me. We have more orders than we can fill on this number. Did they notice it? I don't think so. Come here, let me see it in the light. Still shows a little. I'll put some more pancake on it. You know, Morgan, it's your own fault. Hold that. You keep thinking of him as a glamour boy. You won't see him for what he is, which is definitely a jerk. So he won the war and freed the slaves! Does that
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