Appointment with Danger

---

This is a branch

office of the biggest business

in the world, the United States

post office.

The citizens of this country

own it, work

in it, and use it.

All day.

Everyday.

All year.

Use it for business, for pleasure.

Sometimes, for an all important

message to that busy

man at the north pole.

We're proud of our post office

because we have confidence in

its efficiency.

Because we know our letters and

parcels and money orders

will be delivered promptly

and with safety.

It's a big confidence.

Every year the post office is

entrusted with $45 billion

pieces of mail and enough money

to pay off the personal

debts of everyone in the world.

Your mailman, you know.

He calls at your home or office

a dozen times a week.

But behind him is a great army

of men and women, equally

dedicated to fulfilling Uncle

Sam's guarantee of delivery.

Whether it involves sending

junior's old sweater to summer

camp or shipping a million

dollars in

currency to San Francisco.

But behind this army is a

special corps of trained men,

seldom seen, almost

never publicized.

The nation's oldest police

force, the postal inspectors,

always on guard.

This is an account of one of

these postal inspectors on a

routine assignment.

The story begins in the rain

of a murky summer night in

Gary, Indiana.

Isn't it stupid of me?

I thought if I came out in

the wind I could fix it.

Chopind all right?

Uh, a little too much to drink.

We're giving him some air.

Oh.

I'm sorry about the umbrella.

They're good to have, uh,

well when it's raining.

Good night sister.

Goodnight.

Well, what else could I do?

I don't know.

Good evening sister,

are you lost?

No, there's a man back

there in the alley.

His friend says he's had

too much to drink.

I was wondering...

I'll look into it sister.

Thank you.

Goodnight.

Harry Gruber's stuff.

We'll need a receipt.

That is what is known as

methodical police work.

Must be fun having the experts

down from Chicago.

Oh Mr. Ahearn's all right, as

a boss, at least. It's that

inspector he brought along.

Where do you meet

Mr. Al Goddard?

Is he as tough as ever?

We just got his order

for lunch, a

small boy with mustard.

All right Al, you're

beginning to

make the point clear.

A trained operator like Gruber

couldn't be strangled.

I'm sure of it.

He was either drunk or asleep.

He didn't drink so

he was asleep.

Here in Laporte?

He's not even registered

is to the hotel.

I just don't believe it.

Well, what do you believe?

That he was killed somewhere

else and brought here.

That could be any place.

He was on a floating

assignment all over

Indiana last week.

Sure it's a rat race now.

All because some cup spent the

night chasing a hot rod.

How did he know there was

a dead man in the alley?

Why don't you give the

police a break?

Sorry to have kept you waiting.

Here's your stuff.

The last will and testament

of Harry Gruber.

Was this Gruber a friend

of yours Mr. Goddard?

I know him but I

didn't like him.

What about the nun?

We're doing

the best we Mr. Ahearn.

Well how good is that?

We've checked on every nun in

Laporte for the past 48 hours.

Not one of them was anywhere

near that alley last night.

Did you bother to check

the railroads?

No nun purchased a ticket,

boarded a train, or got off

one all day Tuesday.

Buses and planes likewise.

Bound to be around someplace.

How many nuns are there anyway?

I don't know Mr. Goddard.

I never counted it.

Let's go. I've got to

fly back to Washington.

I'll drop you by the airport.

Stay with it Al.

Don't worry. I'm going to

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