The Man Who Hated Women

Dick Powell as Richard Diamond, private detective. Hello there. This is Diamond. Hey, what about this heat? I can think of a lot of times I've been uncomfortable, but this runs itself right up to the top of my list.

But don't think good I can say about it. Get your laundry dry in a hurry. I usually wash a few things out of my office because it's all free. Come to think of it, I was scrubbing a pile of things.

The day we had that big wind. 97 degrees in New York, and we get a tornado that cools us off. I had so much dust in my office, I could have supplied mud pies to the whole neighborhood.

And after it was all over, the cigarette add-on broadway was blowing smoke rings through the trap door of one of my scattered longies. The waves in Long Island, San, were a rough friend of mine, kept size.

And when he came up, he found three terrified herring hiding in his nose. Oh, it was wild. One minute it was so hot you couldn't move. The next 58 mile an hour wind was doing the moving for you.

Then to top it off, I got mixed up with one of the grisliest cases I'd ever worked on. It all started one evening. The car was moving down a lonely road. Two people in it.

In a couple of minutes, one of them would be pretty dead. What are you stopping for? What are you doing? Let me go. Get your hands off me! No! Help! Please! Aah! Hey Ed. Huh?

Stop the car, sir. What for? I thought I saw something lying back there on the road. So what? Probably a dead dog. No, no, no. Hold it. Too big to be a dog. Oh, for Pete's sake.