Dashed Dreams

[This story takes place in an apartment building on East 68th Street in New York City on Wednesday, June 10, 1953.]

"I've been robbed!" yelled Fred Mertz.

Ethel rushed into the living room to see her husband staring in shock at the lamp table beside the sofa. "What are you hollering about?"

"My money!" exclaimed Fred. "I've been saving it up for the last six months. It was hidden inside a magazine in that table. Now it's gone!"

"Now Fred, are you sure you didn't just put it someplace else and forget where you put it?" asked his wife.

"Yes, I'm sure," grumbled Fred. "I count it every week, and I always put it back in the same spot." He grabbed the phone receiver. "Operator, get me the police!"

Ethel was aroused from her thoughts by a knock. Her husband opened the front door to see two men in suits. The one in front had copper brown hair and a thick moustache. The second man looked younger and had dark hair and a high forehead. "Is this the Mertz residence?" the man in front asked.

"Yes, come in," Fred invited.

"Mr. Mertz, I'm Captain Leland Stottlemeyer. This is Lieutenant Randy Disher." The Mertzes exchanged quick social graces with the policemen before an excited red-headed woman with fair skin and a sharp-dressed Cuban man flew into the apartment.

"Ethel!" Lucy Ricardo exclaimed, "We heard Fred shouting. Then we saw a police car parked outside. What's going on?"

"Oh Lucy," said a distressed Ethel, "Fred thinks he's been robbed, so he called the police!"

Fred interrupted the ladies and introduced their friends and long-time neighbors to the officers.

"What was stolen, Fred?" asked Ricky with an amusing accent.

"One hundred and fifty dollars!" Fred answered. "It was inside a magazine in that drawer." He pointed at the lamp table.

Just then a new voice joined in the conversation. "Is there any sign of forced entry?"

Everyone turned to the front entryway to see a dark-skinned man with short curly hair dressed in a brown suit accompanied by a young, stylish blonde woman. They stepped into the Mertz's living room.

"Monk, what are you doing here?" asked Captain Stottlemeyer.

"Adrian hasn't worked a case in two months," stated the blonde. "There's been a rash of thefts lately. He thought he could help solve one. It would let you guys catch up on your other work."

"I don't think we need…" began the police chief, but he was cut short by the young woman.

"Mr. Monk will work this one for half his usual fee."

The practical-minded Captain considered the offer. "Okay," he agreed. "Mr. and Mrs. Mertz, this is Adrian Monk, a private investigator who sometimes helps us, and his assistant, Sherona Fleming. Monk, Sherona, meet Ethel and Fred Mertz and their neighbors the Ricardos."

Fred extended his hand to Adrian, "Hi there." He was surprised, however, when Mr. Monk hesitated before slowly offering a limp handshake. He was even more surprised and slightly offended when the investigator pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the hand that just shook Fred's.

"Monk is a great detective." the Captain smiled. "He'll report all his findings to us. If you have any questions, feel free to call the department. I hope your day gets better, sir, ma'am. Let's go Randy."

Lieutenant Disher followed the Captain but could not help approaching Mr. Ricardo before exiting. "Mr. Ricardo, I'm a big fan. I love the way you lead the band at the Tropicana." Ricky smiled broadly, always happy to hear from an admirer. "I've written a song," continued the Lieutenant. "It's a protest song called I Don't Need a Badge. I think it'd be a hit at your club. I was wondering if maybe I could play it for you sometime." At that moment, the Captain pulled Randy away, cutting him off, and again bid them all a fine rest of the day as the two departed.

Lucy then queried their landlord and his wife. "How could this happen?"

"I don't know," Ethel responded. "This is terrible."

"A hun'red fi'ty dullars?" Ricky stated. "That's a lot of greenbacks."

The four then remembered the private eye. They turned to see him studying the pictures hung on the wall opposite the front entrance. Mr. Monk straightened the frames, stepped back to inspect, and straightened them again. He did this several more times. Ethel asked Ms. Fleming, "What is he doing?"

"He's making sure they're perfectly aligned," the assistant responded.

Monk busied himself with picture-setting a couple minutes longer. Then, satisfied that they couldn't be any more level, he turned his attention back to the original matter. He restated his earlier question, "Is there any sign of forced entry?" Fred thought there was not, but the three guys checked the front and back patio entrances to be sure. They found no such sign.

"When was the money taken?" asked Mr. Monk.

"Either yesterday or today. I just counted it two nights ago," Fred declared.

"Were the two of you away from the apartment yesterday or today?" asked the detective.

Fred answered, "Yesterday Ethel was out shopping with Lucy most of the day. She got home about 6:30. I went to the drug store to get a sandwich and a soda at about 5:00 last night. I was gone about half an hour. I own this building. We have a new tenant coming next week, so most of this morning I was cleaning an apartment to get it ready. Ethel was home all day today, though."

Adrian continued his questioning. "When you left for the drug store, did you lock the doors?"

"Well, I don't remember if I did or didn't," Fred returned. "I knew I'd only be gone a short time."

"Did anyone see you leave?" Monk asked. Fred was unsure.

"Have you noticed any peculiar people hanging around the building lately?" the detective continued. Neither Fred nor Ricky recalled seeing anyone unfamiliar.

"Lucy's the only peculiar one, but we're used to seeing her," Ethel joked and smiled at her friend. Ricky laughed.

Lucy looked as if she suddenly remembered a significant piece of information. "Hey! I saw a strange man in the building a couple times this week. He wore a brown uniform and had beady-looking eyes. I said hello when I was on my way to get the mail, and he didn't say a word back."

"That was probably just a UPS driver," countered Mr. Mertz. "Ms. Trumball had a couple packages brought this week."

Mr. Monk went to the lamp table where the money had been hidden. He looked intently at a note pad beside the telephone. "Is this a new pad of paper?" he asked.

"Why yes," replied Ethel, "I set a new one out a few days ago."

Monk asked if either of the Mertzes had used it. They both stated that they had not. "Someone's written on it," he stated. "I can see the imprint of letters." He next spied a small trashcan beside the table. He told his assistant to search it for a piece of note paper.

Sherona crossed her arms. "You do it."

"You know I can't stick my hand in a trashcan," said the incredulous private eye.

The blonde narrowed her eyes in disgust and dug inside the container. "This is all that's in there," she told him, opening her hand to show half a peanut shell. Fred was surprised at the sight of the shell. Monk asked Mrs. Mertz if she knew where it came from, but she said she did not.

The detective studied the shell. He sniffed it. "This peanut was roasted," he announced. "It doesn't look very dried out yet, so it must be fairly fresh. I'd guess it was roasted early yesterday. It must have been tossed in there by the thief." Ethel was stunned at this revelation. "Now you don't find fresh roasted peanuts everywhere," he continued. "They're commonly bought at sporting events. Let's see, were there any sporting events around town yesterday?"

Everyone thought for a moment. Fred said, "Well, the Yankees don't have a game this week. They play the Browns next week, though."

Sherona offered, "I thought I heard there was a big horse race yesterday."

Fred nodded his head, "That's right, I read about in the paper. It was at the Aqueduct yesterday at noon. Ram O' War's team won $7,500." Fred whistled at the thought of all that money.

The detective began forming a theory: "The most logical time for the crime to have occurred was when Mr. Mertz left for the drug store. The thief went to the horse race yesterday. He bought some peanuts. After leaving the track, he noticed a peanut shell stuck on his shirt. There wasn't a garbage can nearby, so he just put it in his pocket. Later on, he was at the apartment building and saw Mr. Mertz leave. He most likely knew that Mrs. Mertz was gone too. Not knowing how much time he would have, the thief hunted for something valuable in one of the first places he saw – the lamp table. He thumbed through the magazines and found the cash. He stuffed it in his pocket. When he pulled his hand out of his pocket, the peanut shell fell on the floor. He picked it up and tossed it into the trashcan. I think the thief probably knows the two of you and was somewhat familiar with your plans yesterday. The thief is most likely one of your tenants."

All eyes drifted toward Lucy's husband. Ricky exclaimed, "Dun't look at me! I…I was at de Tropicana from two yesterday afternoon until two o'clock dis mornin'."

"I bet you were, you bongo-playing burglar!" Fred bellowed. "You like horse racing, and you knew that Ethel was gone yesterday!"

A flabbergasted Ricky retorted, "Now listen here you gruchy old penny-pincher!"

"Gruchy! I oughtta pop you in the lip, you Cuban caterwauler!" Fred held up his fists and started bobbing back and forth like a boxer.

"You axed for it Mertz the miser!" Ricky began rolling up his sleeves.

Ethel and Lucy stepped in between their husbands. "Now Fred," Ethel spoke, "I'm sure Ricky didn't take your money. I still say you put it somewhere else and forgot."

Lucy joined in, "And if anyone took it, I think it was that beady-eyed delivery driver. He looked just like a criminal." The two men composed themselves again.

Mr. Monk suggested that they try to find more clues. He asked Sherona for a pencil. Ms. Fleming fished through her purse and handed her boss a pencil. He scribbled darkly on the note pad on the table. To the surprise of the Mertzes and Ricardos, letters soon appeared on the scribbled paper. Fred remarked that it looked like magic. Mr. Monk explained that it was an old police trick. What was written on the top sheet of paper also left an imprint on the sheet below it. Scribbling over the imprint with a pencil allowed one see what had been written. He read the imprinted letters, " 'CBS Manhattan. June 14, 10:30pm.' Mr. and Mrs. Mertz said that neither of them have used this notepad. So, this must have been written by the thief. What could it mean?" he wondered out loud.

Everyone pondered. The young blonde snapped her fingers, "I know, CBS has a studio in Manhattan where they air a lot of their TV shows." Ricky agreed. "June 14th is this Sunday," she continued.

The investigator asked if anyone knew what CBS was going to show the coming Sunday at 10:30. The others contemplated. Fred finally said, "Isn't that game show What's My Line? on at 10:30 on Sundays?"

Ms. Fleming nodded her head, "Yeah, with that wacky host, John Daly."

The perplexed detective had no idea how this information tied into the crime. He again suggested that they look for more clues. "Thieves like to rummage through closets," he stated. "People hide all sorts of things in them." He opened up the Mertz's coat closet. Several coats and jackets hung neatly inside, and a red suitcase sat on the floor. "When did you last use this suitcase?" he inquired. Ethel stated, "I think it was last summer when we visited my family in Albuquerque."

The investigator pointed out that the bottoms of several jackets were caught behind the suitcase. Therefore, someone had taken it from the closet recently and put it back inside. He removed the suitcase, laid it down, and opened it. Inside were several ladies' outfits.

"Those are Ethel's clothes," Fred declared.

"And that's Lucy's blouse," Ricky joined in. The dumbfounded husbands stared at their wives.

Ethel and Lucy appeared sheepish. "Well," said Lucy, unable to think of an explanation.

"We might as well just tell them the whole story, Lucy," Ethel began. "You know our friend Catherine whose husband works on a camera crew for CBS? Well, she called Monday and told us that her husband found out that Danny Kaye was going to be the mystery guest on What's My Line this Sunday. She said the show was going to air at the broadcasting center in Manhattan, and maybe her husband could arrange for all of us to meet Mr. Kaye after the show. She also learned that Danny Kaye is going to star in a musical with Bing Crosby. It's going to be released next January. And Hollywood is still scouting for two leading ladies to sing and dance with them. Lucy and I figured this was our chance to get a try-out for a big picture. Oh, wouldn't it be breath-taking to be in a movie with Bing and Danny? We figured if we made a good impression on Mr. Kaye and told him about my experience in vaudeville and Lucy's involvement with theater, he might get us a try-out."

"Lucy's involvement with theater?" Ricky asked, stunned.

"I played Juliet in the twelfth grade," Lucy pouted. "And I was the witch in Little Ricky's school pageant."

"What does that have to do with my money? And how did you know where I hid it?" Fred hollered.

"Oh, Fred, you can't keep money hidden from your wife. I saw you count it a dozen times. We simply had to get new dresses before meeting Mr. Kaye. I borrowed your money to bet at the horse race. With the winnings we were going to buy new dresses and make sure we had enough left over to pay back the $150. Only we lost the bet."

"Well, the mystery is solved," announced Sherona.

Monk nodded and said, "This has been a remarkable case. I'll tell the Captain that everything is cleared up now. Nice to have met all of you." He and his assistant headed for the front door. Forgetting all chivalry, Monk stopped and waited for Sherona to open it. She glanced at her boss in irritation then explained to everyone else that he did not like touching doorknobs. The two exited with Ms. Fleming shutting the door behind them.

"Well of all your crazy ideas, this one picks up the pastry," Ricky chided the two ladies.

Fred and Ethel looked confused. "I think he meant 'takes the cake,'" Lucy clarified.

"Freddie-dear, have I told you lately what a smart and handsome man you are?" Ethel tried to butter up her husband.

"It's no use, Sweetums," Fred smirked. "You and Lucy have to work off every penny of that money. You can start by painting the apartment the new tenant will be moving into. I have four cans of paint and some brushes and rollers downstairs."

Ethel moaned, "Let's get busy, Lucy. We're going to be painting the rest of the week. It makes no difference now, anyway. Our dreams of being in a motion picture are dashed."

"What about my dream," Fred blurted. "I was going to buy a brand-new trombone with that money."

"A trombone!" Ethel and the Ricardos cried in unison.

"Yeah," Fred lamented. "I played trombone in my high school band. I was pretty good. I always thought if I picked it back up, Rick might let me try out at the night club."

Ethel and Lucy were amazed. Ricky chuckled and clapped Fred's back. "Pal, playing your high school fight song is a lot different than playing Latin Salsa."

Years later, the four would laugh about this crazy event, one of many in their warm but wild friendship.