The Triangle Murder Case

F.W. Fitch Company makers of Fitch's uponified coconut oil shampoo and Fitch's shaving creams presents Dick Powell as private investigator Richard Rogue in Rogue's Gallery. Rogue speaking, you know there's something about me that is to trouble what molasses is to flies. I never go round looking for trouble. Trouble goes around looking for me.

I take that afternoon a few months ago when I walked into the press room with a hall of of justice and found among others, Clark Ames, the young city hall reporter for The Chronicle, expounding on his favorite subject, a deep hatred for a man named Fred Curtis, nicknamed the Alibi Master. Ames and the other newspapermen had watched Curtis win acquittles with a dozen

different clients and all the ways but the same route. Unbreakable Alibis. This made the client very happy and the district attorney very miserable. The Chronicle, the Crusading newspaper, had at the instigation of Clark Ames been running an anti-Curtis campaign, bordering, pretty course, on libel.

And Curtis, who was sharper than to raise his edge and harder to catch up with than to arrive and hated Ames with a wonderful passion. Curtis had won the last round, and Ames was telling me about it.

So Curtis goes to Williams, my managing editor, and threatens a libel suit. Well, I had gone a little overboard, I guess. And Williams had to let me go, temporarily lay off until the heat died down.

Now I'm back in the job, Brog, and I'm solid, and you wait until that phony Curtis sees me sitting here. Wait until he finds out I'm back in the job, huh? Look, Ames, I've been around this town for a while, and if I'm thinking of a guy to buck, it won't be Fred Curtis, huh?