Philip Morris presents Crime Photographer. It's a wonderful, wonderful feeling to wake up fresh with no cigarette hangover. Yes, you'll be glad tomorrow you smoked Philip Morris today. Horses! Philip Morris! Good evening. This is Ken Roberts greeting you for Philip Morris and inviting you to listen to another adventure of Casey, Crime Photographer, ace cameraman who covers the crime news of a great city. Written by Alonzo Dean Cole, our adventure for tonight, Death of a Stranger. Morning, a little after ten o'clock. Behind a massive desk in the richly appointed office that is a part of his home sits Robert Hyden whose lucrative business is the buying and selling of rare stamps. A door opens and his brother enters. What do you want, Ronald? An old fellow outside wants to see you. Who is he? He wouldn't give me his name. He said you'd know who he was if I told you he has the Three Skilling Orange Error. He has the Three Skilling Orange Error? Don't ask me for an explanation. He wouldn't give me an A. For your information, Ronald, the Three Skilling Orange Error is a Swedish stamp. The only one known to exist is owned by an ex-king who would be a most unlikely visitor to this office. Your man outside is a nut. Get rid of him. Your chap acted perfectly sane. I said get rid of him. Very well. Oh, wait, wait, Ronald. Can't you learn the least thing about a secretary's duties? Have you done something wrong again? You've just wasted my time, Ronald. I've had to support you most of your life and mine. When my son Horace was taken ill, you offered to take over his job, but you've been nothing but a bother. Now, now, now, file these letters and correctly, please. I'm going upstairs to see Horace. He's gone out for a walk. Why, the doctor told him to stay in bed. Oh, that young fool. If he hasn't relapsed when I need him, I'll see if he's gone out. Answer that telephone and say that I'm out. Oh, wait, wait, wait, wait. I'm expecting a call from my son Arthur. If it's him on the wire, say I'll have that check for him this afternoon and not to bother me about it before then. What check? Oh, he'll know about it. Pick up that telephone. I'm going up the back stairs. Robert Haydn's office. His secretary's speaking. Oh, you're learning, Uncle Ronald. Soon you'll be a better secretary than I am. Oh, it's you, Horace. Mm-hmm. Is Dad there? He just went upstairs to raise the dickens if he found you out of bed. Well, I'm down in Market Square. I walked all the way here and I feel fine. Oh, your dad won't like it. Does he ever like anything I do or you do? The only member of the family who ever gets a decent word out of him is my little brother Arthur. Is he around now? No, but your father's expecting him. I think, to pick up a check. Another check for the fair-haired boy, huh? When I want extra money, the old man tells me to live on the salary he pays me. Well, now, Horace, your father tries to... Dad! Uncle Ronald! What? Come here! Someone help! What was that, Uncle? Your brother Arthur. He's yelling. Hold the wire, Horace. Uncle Ronald! What's wrong, Arthur? I just came into the outer office and I found that man. Look at him! Arthur! Ronald! What's going on here? Who is that? That's the stranger who wanted to see you, Robert, the man who gave me that message. There's a knife in his throat. I found him slumped in the chair like that. Is he dead? Yes, Arthur, the man's dead. Looks like suicide. What's your verdict, Doctor? This man did not commit suicide, Captain Logan. I told you this was a murder. Shut up, Casey. Go on, Doc. The knife entered the old fellow's neck at an impossible angle for self-infliction. Oh, it seems I never get an easy one. The people in this house say they never saw the guy until this morning. They have no idea who he is or why he came here. Can we have the knife now, Doc? Yes, I'm finished. Well, I'll dust it for fingerprints. And you, Sergeant, make a thorough search of the body. Yes, sir. Can I interview the people who found the body now, Captain? You've already interviewed him, Miss Williams, in case he got their picture. You sent them upstairs before we could finish our job, pal. With all we know... With all I know so far. We heard exactly the same story from Robert Hyden, his brother, and his two sons. I'll print some of the knife, Captain. That's just swell. Did you find anything on the body, Sergeant? Looks to me like the killer went through the guy's pockets, Captain. How about identifying marks in his clothing? No labels, no laundry marks to help us either. The guy must have had a wife who washed his clothes or he did it himself. Uh-uh. He doesn't look to me like a fellow who'd do his own laundry. Why? Well, look at his face. You can tell he was a nervous, sensitive, artistic type, Logan. His kind go dirty before they'll do boresome jobs like washing clothes. Uh... This guy had an interesting face, Annie. Uh-huh. Yeah. Yeah, it's a nice face. At a time like this you talk about an interesting face? Sergeant asked the Hydens to come downstairs, all of them. I want to talk to them again. Right, Captain. You think one of them may have been the killer, Captain? Miss Williams, how can I think anything yet about this case? I merely asked. Hyden has quite a fancy set-up in this big old house, hasn't he? He's many times a millionaire. Did he make his dough in the rare stamp business, Logan? No, in the stock market. I understand he made a big killing there and sorted the proceeds away. Quit calculating and made a business out of what had been his... I've heard that he's recognized as one of the world's greatest authorities on them, philately. On what, Annie? Philately. It means stamp collecting. Oh. You, uh... You wish to ask us further questions, Captain? Yes, Mr. Hyden. Come in, all of you. Well, I'm sure there's nothing any of us can tell you. Now, this lower floor of your house is devoted entirely to your business, Mr. Hyden? Yes, it's kept separate from my living quarters. My clients enter this reception room directly from the street as they enter a shop. My private office is in there and my secretary has a room off that door. Your son is acted as your secretary? My eldest son, Horace, until several weeks ago when he was taken ill. Since then, my brother has attempted the work. You're very clumsily, I'm afraid. Of course, you might have trained Arthur to take my place, Dad. I have no head for business, Horace. You simply have no head, Art. No, look, dear... That's enough, boys. Mr. Ronald, you say the stranger gave you the impression that his message about the three-skilling orange error would mean something to your brother? Mr. Casey... The stranger couldn't have given such an impression. He didn't know me and I didn't know him. My question was addressed to Ronald, Mr. Hyden. Well, I did believe the stranger knew you, Robert. He seemed so confident that you'd see him. You're a fool. Mr. Hyden, you left your private office shortly after you received the stranger's message. Yes. You didn't come into this reception room, then? No. I went directly up the back stairs. And I didn't come down until I heard my son Arthur yelling for help. I thought something was happening to him. Arthur. Yes, Captain? You said you walked in here from the street and saw the dead man. That's right. I've never seen a fellow just stab himself. It seemed all I could do was yell for help. At that time, Horace, you were talking to your uncle over the phone, huh? Yes, Mr. Casey. I'd called Dad's office from a booth in the Market Square drugstore. I held the wire while Uncle Ronald went to learn the reason for Arthur's yells. And when he came back on the wire and told me the reason, well, I naturally flagged a cab and hurried home. You reached here before we coped it, Mr. Horace. Yes. You policemen certainly took your time in getting here. If you'd correctly reported the stranger's death, we'd have come here faster, Mr. Hyden. What do you mean? You said the man had committed suicide, but we found a murder. Murder? That man didn't kill himself? He did not kill himself. Well, but then, who killed him? And why? That's something I think one of you four men can tell me. Now he's thinking, Annie. Yes, Casey. And I wonder where it'll get him. Just a minute, Mr. Nestor Camp. I'm fixing up your order. You say Logan got nowhere with them Hydens, huh, Casey? No, nowhere at all, Edward. They haven't changed their stories a bit. And the victim's identity has to be known before Captain Logan can hope to prove that one of the Hydens or anybody had reason to kill him. Logan lost his sense of values on this one, Annie. Showed his hand too soon. There's no, no clue to the stranger's identity, huh? Nope. That makes things really tough. You think any one of them Hydens could have done it except the one who was telephoning from Market Square? I don't know. And we won't know anything about this stranger until... You know, that guy's face haunts me, Annie. No, it's the kind of a face that you don't forget. Yeah. If the paper had print that close-up I took of him... Yeah, somebody would be sure to identify it. Why won't they print it? Well, did you ever see a close-up of a guy with a fresh knife wound in his throat? Mmm... no. Well, you won't. In any family, you use paper, Ethelbert. Too many customers wouldn't like it. Well, I'm a customer and I wouldn't object. Well, all right, pal. You asked for it. Here's the picture I took of the dead stranger. Oh. You see? Yeah. Hey, that dead guy is Mr. Carfora. What? He lives in my neighborhood, Casey. Where? Who was he? Where? What was he? Well, Mr. Carfora owns a little old house on Bay Street just back at the lumber yard. He and my sister Edna sent their clothes to the same wash lady. And she says he'd done some kind of work in his house, but she didn't know why. Annie, we're going to that house on Bay Street right now. First, I'm going to kiss Ethelbert. Mmm... Oh! Lunaut Cafe, Ethelbert's... Oh. Oh, it was Williams. That must be the place, Casey. Yeah, it is the place, kids. The only house in the back of the lumber yard. Why, it's so dark. I can't see whether that's lumber piled back there or what. I got a flashlight. We should have phoned Captain Logan to join us. We'll let that lug in on this after our exclusive is in the bag. Come on, Annie. You're going to break into the house? Not break in exactly. It's kind of handy at opening doors without causing any damage. Well, I hope we can find something in there that establishes a motive for Carfora's killing. If we hunch, we will find something. Casey! Explosion! It was in Carfora's home! Hey, look! The place is on fire! That man! He's running from the house. You stay there, Annie. Hey, Casey! Come back here! I'll try to get a good look at that... He's shooting at you! Your flashlight! Shot it right out of my hand. That was foolish, mister. You got no target now. Another miss, fella. Try again. Now that gun flash gave me a target. Now I've got you! Casey! Casey, where are you? I can't see! Answer me, Casey! Answer me! This morning... This morning, when your alarm clock rang, did you wake up with... Cigarette hangover! That stale, musty, smoked-out taste in your mouth. Cigarette hangover! That tight, dry, uncomfortable feeling in your throat. That's what takes the joy out of smoking. And when that happens to you, it's time to change to Philip Morris. Remember, Philip Morris is the one, the only cigarette proved definitely less irritating, definitely milder than any other leading brand. That fact is recognized by eminent medical authorities. No other cigarette can make that statement. No other cigarette can make that statement. Remember, top-ranking doctors, eminent nose and throat specialists, actually suggest Philip Morris in cases of irritation due to smoking. That's why we say, if you're tired of cigarette hangover, join the millions and change to Philip Morris. You too will discover in Philip Morris a milder smoke, a fresher, cleaner smoke than you've ever known before. Yes, you'll be glad tomorrow you smoked Philip Morris today. Philip Morris, America's finest cigarette. And now back to Casey, crime photographer. Sure you're okay, Annie? Yeah, I didn't really black out, Casey. The wallop I got was just a glancing blow. The weld on my head, the size of... Don't sit up, sit still for a while. Don't try to move. We've got to get away from here, kid. That burning house is throwing off too much heat. And smoke. Somebody's turned in a fire alarm. Yeah, the trucks are coming. I hear them. And it'll be too late to salvage much from that little shack. Any evidence we might have found there is ashes by now. The man who shot at us and slugged us set that fire. Sure did. Annie, we may find out something more. What have you picked up? A gun. A hot revolver with an empty cylinder. That man dropped it after he hit us with it. And it might tell us who he is. Let's get it to Captain Logan. Wait a minute, Annie. Wait. The fireman will be on the job in a minute. They'll cool off that little house in a hurry. I want to see what's in the ashes. You say this guy, Carfora, was an engraver, Casey? Well, that had been his trade, Logan, but the guy was essentially a hobbyist. And among other things, he went in for chemistry and photography. Annie and I saw the remains of some swell equipment in the ruins of his home. Yeah, we checked our findings there with neighbors who'd known him, Captain. Nobody knew him really well, but we're told that his main interest was philately. Stamp collecting, dumb bell. Oh, stamp collecting. Well, anybody knows that. Yeah, well, get the connection, though. Carfora was an absolute bug on stamps. He bought them constantly and is supposed to have owned some very rare books on the subject. His collection apparently was destroyed by the fire. And that fire was no accident, pal. It was set by the guy who slugged Anne and me. Have you any idea why? Captain Logan. Yes, Sergeant? I just got the report on the gun Casey found, sir. Oh, good. Let's have it. A permit for a revolver of this make and serial number was issued six months ago to Arthur Heiden. Arthur? Well, that's the youngest son and his father's favorite. Arthur's the one who discovered Carfora's body. Sergeant, issue an order for the arrest of Arthur Heiden. Wait, wait, wait a minute, Logan, will you? Before any arrests are made, before anyone's told about that gun or our identification of the stranger, let's have a talk with Robert Heiden. The old man. Yeah. He could have used his kid's gun tonight. He's the big stamp man and stamps are the link with Carfora. All right, let's have a talk with Robert Heiden. This is an imposition, Captain. Why should I open my office to you at this time of night? Because it affords more privacy than your living rooms upstairs, Mr. Heiden. And we'd like to have privacy. For more idiotic questions about the death of that unknown man, Mr. Casey? We'll try to keep our questions a little short of idiotic. You haven't up to now. But citizens must cooperate with the police, I suppose. Please step into my office. Ladies first, Miss Williams. Thanks. Now, what can I tell you that I haven't already told you before? First, Mr. Heiden, what business did you do with Angelo Carfora? Angelo Carfora? Is the name familiar? Well, of course it is. I never forget a client, or at least not a client who gave me cause to remember him, as this Carfora did. Well, Casey, we didn't expect him to admit. No. Well, tell us about Carfora. Well, he did business with me for a long time, buying only seconds, stamps that are damaged in one way or another and worth only a fraction of normal value. But quite frequently, he submitted undamaged stamps for my opinion as to their genuineness. I found all of them to be forgeries except the last one he sent, which was a perfect postmaster provisional. Oh, his business meant little to me in a monetary way, but he had a feeling for stamps, and I enjoyed his interesting letters. I never met the man personally, but... You never met him? No, no. Why do you ask me about Carfora? I thought you were only concerned about that murder. Angelo Carfora was killed in your reception room this morning. What? He was a stranger. I...I...this...this is incredible. How long since you heard from Carfora? At least a year, maybe two years. Why was he killed in my place? Mr. Haydn, have you bought some very rare stamps in the last year or so, stamps you paid a lot for? Yes, yes, less than a month ago. I was lucky enough to get Mauritius Tupenny Blue. Several weeks before that, I acquired a nine-pence Lyle of brown of Ceylon. Oh, but you don't know about stamps. These are among the blue chips of finatially. I paid a high price for them, but they were perfect specimens. So who did you buy them from? Well, I've made all my best buys lately through the... That gunshot! Slug got Haydn in the chest. He was fired from that doorway. Then the door slammed shut. Oh, it's locked now. Lend me some of your weight, Casey. Right. That all finished? Miss Williams, see what you can do for Haydn while we... Help me! Help him! Logan! I see. Break, you two, break! This gun was on the floor beside him, Logan, a hot gun. It's Arthur's gun, Captain. I knocked it from his hand. You gave me no chance to explain Uncle Ronald. You can explain now, Mr. Arthur. Both this gat and the one you dropped at Carfora's place tonight. I don't know what... I heard a shot. What's happened here? How is your brother Arthur? He shot his father. Arthur? No, I didn't... I didn't... Captain Logan, I'm afraid nothing can be done for Haydn. He's dead. Arthur Haydn, I'm placing you under arrest for murder. No, no! Hold it, Logan. What? Let's get this picture straight before you arrest him. Picture straight enough, Mr. Casey. I caught Arthur with a gun in his hand. But I didn't shoot him. I just picked up that gun when Uncle Ronald grabbed me. Just picked it up? Yes. I just come into this hall through the street door in the back. Then I heard a shot and loud voices in Dad's office. I ran this way and I saw the gun on the carpet without thinking. I picked it up and just then... Is that the best story you can think of, Arthur? But it's true, Horace. I swear it's true. Whereabouts in the hall were you, Mr. Ronald, when you saw Arthur with that gun? At the foot of the back stairs. I was on the floor above. And when I heard that shot, I came down three steps at a time. The shot brought you too, Horace? Yes, down the front stairs. You were the first on the scene, Arthur. Did you see whoever dropped that gun? No. He'd gotten away before... This is nonsense. Nobody dropped that gun and nobody got away. My brother is the killer, Captain. Sure, Casey, it's his... plane is... I don't agree. Why not? Because Haydn was killed to cover up the murder of Carfora. And Arthur doesn't fit the Carfora picture as I see it now. Look, Casey, Arthur discovered Carfora's body. You were slugged with Arthur's gun outside Carfora's house. And now Mr. Arthur Haydn is found with the murder gun in his hand... a few seconds after his father's been bumped off. What more do you want? A probable link to Carfora. But I don't understand... Arthur, you got a check from your father today, didn't you? Yes. How big was it? What was it for? It was the $2,000. I owed a gambling debt. Again? Okay, Horace, okay. I'm no good. Dad was always paying out money to get me out of trouble. The old man was my friend... as well as my father. As my brother's favorite son, Arthur will inherit most of Robert's estate. But I never even thought of that! If you did, you never needed Carfora. But who is this Carfora? The name isn't familiar to you, Mr. Ronald? No! How about you, Horace? I never heard the name until you mentioned it. You're a liar. I beg your pardon? How long were you your father's secretary? I... about ten years. During those ten years, like any confidential secretary... you opened your boss's mail, read it, and took his dictation when he answered it, didn't you? Yes, but I... But you never heard the name of Carfora? Hey, what is this? You know what it is. Your father made you work while your brother was allowed to play. You hated both of them for that. You never had enough money. And through Carfora, you saw a way to make big money. I don't know what you're talking about. Oh, yes, you do. You played both your father and Carfora for suckers. It was easy to keep a part while you were on the job as secretary. But when you were taken sick, and your uncle was put in your place, you foresaw trouble. You could think of only one way to avoid it. You knew Carfora would come to the office this morning. So you got out of bed against orders to be ready for him. When your uncle left the reception room to deliver that message about the Swedish stamp, you killed Carfora. Why, you're crazy. I was a mile away in a drug store in Market Square when Carfora was killed. I talked to Uncle Ronald from a phone booth there. Yes, he did, Mr. Casey. How many phones are there in this big house, Mr. Ronald? Lines, I mean, not extensions. Why, three. You used one of those two other lines to call the office line, Horace. You were nowhere near Market Square. You can't prove that. You know about the dermal nitrate test. Dermal nitrate? It'll show that you fired a gun tonight. You're not going to send me to the chair? Logan, drop that knife, Horace. No, no, let me kill myself. You don't read any easy way out. Here, AC, hang on to this knife while I slip the handcuffs on him, okay, pal? What are you doing, Horace? You've always had all the luck, Arthur. I've always been the fall guy. I was a fool to think I could change things. But, Mr. Casey, I don't quite understand. Why did Horace kill my brother, and what was there between him and this man, Kofora? I don't get it either, Casey. Neither do I. Well, I'll tell all of you what Horace is going to put in his full confession after I take a lot of pictures. We'll join our friends at the Blue Note in just a moment. But first, it's a wonderful feeling. It's a wonderful feeling. It's a wonderful, wonderful feeling to wake up fresh with no cigarette hangover. Yes, that's something more and more smokers who have changed to Philip Morris are discovering every day. Millions of new smokers now enjoying in Philip Morris a milder smoke, a fresher, cleaner smoke than they've ever known before, and for a good reason. For in Philip Morris, they enjoy the one cigarette proved definitely less irritating, definitely milder than any other leading brand. Yes, it's actually suggested by top-ranking doctors, eminent nose and throat specialists, in cases of irritation due to smoking. Doesn't it make good sense for you, too, to try Philip Morris? Yes, join the millions and see what a difference it makes, what a pleasure it is to smoke America's finest cigarette. Next time you step up to a cigarette counter, call for Philip Morris. And remember, you'll be glad tomorrow you smoked Philip Morris today. Did Casey call a turn on Horace's full confession in advance, Miss Williams? Pretty nearly, Ethelbert. What was the Carfora set up, and how'd you know? It was all very simple, to a mastermind. Ha! Carfora was a bug on philately, the stamps, that is, to you, Annie. He was a skilled engraver, who had a lot of fine chemical and photographic equipment, and somebody wanted to destroy the place where he lived and worked. All of which didn't mean much to your mastermind, until I talked with Robert Hyden. He supplied missing parts of the puzzle. Carfora, you see, threw the mails, and bought a lot of rare stamps that were in reach of his pocketbook because they were damaged. He sent Hyden a lot of undamaged stamps for appraisal. In Hyden's expert opinion, all were forgeries except the last. Which told the great Casey that Carfora had been trying to make perfect stamps by copying damaged ones, and finally succeeded. You mean he was a stamp counterfeiter? Yeah, that's right. But he didn't try to pass his counterfeits off as a genuine article, though. He wanted to sell them for what they were, perfect copies. But Horace was hit with a big idea. He made a deal with Carfora, and an exclusive secret deal, but in his father's name. And then stamps for which he paid Carfora only a few dollars, he sold to his father and other collectors for thousands. Gee, what a racket. Like all crooked rackets, it couldn't last. Carfora called C.O. man Hyden, which would have exposed the whole setup, of course, so Horace had to kill Carfora. Then he removed all identification from the little guy. Which gave him time, as he thought, to set fire to Carfora's house, and then destroy all the evidence of his counterfeiting activities before the police could see the evidence and smell a rat. Then Horace shot his old man to keep us from smelling the same rat. And tried to frame his brother for both jobs. Nice guy. Incharming person. Annie, it's lunchtime. Would you like to put on the feed bag with a really charming person? Meaning, of course. Oh, of course, but the great Casey. Are you paying, or do we go dot your must I lend you ten until payday? Now that's a nice question. It's a fair one. Like all the masterminds of my acquaintance, you're usually broke. Well, as a matter of fact, tonight I am. No wonder. What do you mean? Well, he's been associating with stamp collectors all day. What's that got to do with it? Flatly. Don't you get it? He's flatly broke. Aww. Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man. Carfora, fill up my wrist. Friends, remember this, if you're tired of cigarette hangover, call for the one cigarette that gives you a milder, fresher, cleaner smoke. Yes, from now on. Carfora, fill up my wrist. Good night, Johnny. See you next Thursday, same time, same station. When Philip Morris again will present another exciting adventure of Casey, crime photographer, starring Stats Cotsworth. Until then, Carfora, fill up my wrist. Smoke a pipe? You get real solace, comfort, and pleasure from Revelation Pipe Tobacco. Plus smooth burning. Plus a swell aroma. Revelation Pipe Tobacco is a revelation in smoking pleasure. Only fifteen cents. Try Revelation. Crime photographer is produced and directed by John Deets. It is written by Alonzo Dean Cole and is based on the fictional character of Flash Gun Casey, created by George Harmon Cox. Original music by Cy Fuehr, and the program features Jan Miner as Anne and John Gibson as Ethelbert. Herman Chitlison is the Blue Note pianist. This is Ken Roberts saying good night for Philip Morris, America's finest cigarette. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
