A young woman has been found dead in a parked car in Central Park. Her face blasted away by a shotgun. The only key to her identity is a globe and anchor military tattoo on her arm. A rookie detective (John Miles) is put on the case teamed up with a cynical and philosophical veteran (Walter Kinsella) who has seen it all. Working with clues provided by their crime lab, they venture throughout Manhattan, the Bronx and Brooklyn searching for the killer; all the while their prey is following them. Along the way they encounter shifty locals, who just “don’t want any trouble” in having to talk to cops. Seldom seen actors or semi professionals are used, like a harried and suspicious diner owner, or the slovenly tattoo artist in an ink-stained shirt gives a lived in grittiness to the proceedings. After a crisp 64 minutes of running time, Miles traps the murderer on the grounds of a company that makes cemetery monuments.

For the beetle-browed John Miles, this was to be his last role at the tender age of 27. Among the other unknown lead actors, there is young actress, Patricia White, who portrays a sharp, fresh-faced and spunky botanist who is assisting the police with their clues. Later, as Patricia Barry, she had a very successful TV career, often in a much sexier persona than she exhibits here. Also, lurking in the background as a police lab technician, with only a few lines, is a young New York City actor by the name of Jack Lord, with his own distinguished career in TV ahead of him.
Audiences walking into a movie palace in 1950 for a double bill probably gave short shrift to the opening feature. Usually running between 60 to 75 minutes these B films were fillers, made for the late arriving crowd who didn’t mind missing the first 10-15 minutes, while they went to the snack bar and/or primped in front of the mirror in the restroom. As they jostled past others already seated, one’s mind was on the main feature of the night. People came to see Bogart, Davis, Grant and Heyburn, but in the meantime they had to wade through the last 45 minutes of films like The Tattooed Stranger.
It wasn’t until decades later, where in the leisure of one’s own home, people could watch these B films and wonder how some of these nuggets could have been bypassed, totally unnoticed, upon their first release.
Written by Bob
An excellent write up of one of my favorites, and an absolute must for film noir folks. New York never looked sleazier, and the cat-and-mouse sequence you describe above, as well as the final moments at the cemetery marker shop are spectacular.
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