Good evening. This is Ken Roberts inviting you to listen to another adventure of Casey, crime photographer. Ace cameraman who covers the crime news of a great city. Our adventure for tonight. The woman of mystery. Morning, about 10 o'clock. In a private office at police headquarters, a telephone rings and... I'm the state bureau, Captain Logan speaking. Is this the place to report a murder? Yes. I think I've got one for you. Who's this speaking? I'm Lizzie Banks. To be really proper, I'm Mrs. Charles Peter Banks. Only my husband's dead and I'm a witty. What's your address? 1221 Steager Street. 1221 Steager. That's right. It's the lady who rooms with me that's been killed, I think. What makes you think? Will you get out here and peek through the keyhole of a door like I just did and you'll see. She's lying in a pool of blood and there's a knife handle sticking out of her back. We'll be there right away, Mrs. Banks. I'll be waiting for you. Goodbye. Sergeant Martin. Yes, Captain. Tell the tech squad and the doc to follow us to 1221 Steager Street. You go there with me. Yes, sir. What's happened at 1221 Steager Street? Good morning, Captain Logan. What are you two doing here? We usually drop in sometime during the day to inquire what's happening in the murder department. And it seems we picked just the right time today. Okay, Miss Williams. You win that lug with the camera. Follow my car. Captain Logan's car is up in front of that little ramshackle cottage. Yeah, I'll park right behind him. Boy, is this a crummy neighborhood. Yeah, we won't get any front page stuff here. Murder's got to be glamorized to write big headlines. Yeah. Come on, Annie. Oh, the little old woman's come out of that door. Are you Mrs. Banks? That's me, Lizzie Banks. Mrs. Charles Peter Banks. Well, I'm Captain Logan. This is Sergeant Martin. Oh, pleased to meet you. Howdy, ma'am. And who's this fellow with the picture box? A just depressed photographer, Mrs. Banks. Pay no attention to him. You here to take pictures of me, young man? Definitely, Mrs. Banks. Oh, come in. Make yourself at home. You and your lady friend both. Thank you. Now, where's this rumor you think is... In the front bedroom, just off my parlor here. There. The door's locked. Well, it's the only room I rent out. Only room I got to rent, matter of fact. Sergeant, take a squint through this keyhole. There's only four rooms in this place. Parlor, kitchen, front and back bedrooms. I'd say the woman lying on the floor in there has been stabbed, Captain. Oh, I used to have a nice big house when my husband was alive. Six rooms and bath, but then... I will break in the door, Captain. Oh, please. I'll pay for that door. We can't think of that now, lady. All right. All together, Martin. Oh, I'm a poor woman. One push is all a door like that needs. Well, I'll get another door somewheres. This woman's stone cold. She's been dead for hours. A knife in her back was pushed in up to the hilt. Now, all of you keep out of this room. I don't want you stepping on possible evidence. What's the dead woman's name, Mrs. Banks? Oh, Miss Jessop. Poor Miss Jessop. Oh, Miss Jessop, huh? Dorothy, at least that's what she told me. Such a nice woman she was. So quiet, and she paid her rent so regularly. I want to hear all you know about her in a minute. She was a big gal. Only a husky could have driven that knife so deep in her back, Martin. And it was done with one clean stroke. Yeah, it took muscle to do that, Captain. You got any idea who was with your roomer last night, Mrs. Banks? No, I haven't, young man. Miss Jessop came home about 8 o'clock and said, Good evening. And then went into her room here, and I heard her bolt the door. I went to my own bedroom pretty soon after that and went to sleep. This morning I called to her and she didn't answer. I tried the door and found it locked, and then I did what any woman would do and peeked through the keyhole. And after that, I went out to the corner store where there's a phone and called you. This door was fastened on the inside with a good strong bolt. Casey, I told you not to come in here. I'm only poking my head around the door frame. Well, the killer never left this room by the door, Captain. That's altogether obvious, Miss Williams. He used the window. He couldn't have done that, Captain. That window's locked. Mrs. Banks, it's open several inches from the bottom. I say it's locked. I know my own house. Now try it. Hey, it is locked in this position. And locked from the inside by them spring bolts in the frame. Miss Jessup always left it like that at night, open enough to get fresh air, but not open enough so that even a cat could crawl in. Say, she's been killed in a room that nobody could have got in or out of. Casey. Let me take another look at that knife. The woman couldn't have stabbed herself in the back like that, sir. How was Miss Jessup murdered? How? The answer seems very simple to me, Mrs. Banks. Oh, it is? Well, sure. I'll show you why it's simple, pal, if you'll give me your royal permission to come through this doorway. Okay, but watch your step. Thank you. When I look, this is an old-fashioned type of window without counterweights or friction slides. You raise or lower the sash, you pull out two spring catches on the sides. I know that. What I don't know, Casey... Wait a minute. Wait a minute, pal. The round spring bolts in the sash snap into holes in the casing and lock. That is, when they find those holes. Now, that can be prevented. When I was a kid, we lived in an old house that had this arrangement. I used to monkey-wit... Would you get to the point? Only a chance. Now, probably to delay the discovery of the body, whoever killed this woman figured it smart to leave the window as she usually locked it at night, only a few inches from the bottom. So, he ran a pair of thin strips, common metal bailing straps, to do the trick. Between the sash and the casement, climbed outside, lowered the window, pulled out his strips and let the spring bolts shoot into place. It could have been done that way easy, Captain. Yeah. Okay, see, now you've ruined a nice mystery. I've always wanted to run into a real case of murder where the killer has vanished from an escape-proof room. You and I should live so long, Annie. But who could have been the big, strong person who drove that dagger into Miss Jessup's bed? Now, Mrs. Banks, step back into your pod. I want you to tell me all you know about Miss Jessup. Yes. That sounds like the tech squad sergeant. Let him in and have him give that room the works. Yes, sir. Now, Mrs. Banks, how long have you known Miss Jessup? Only two months, Captain, since she rented my room. I don't really know anything about her at all, except she was a woman of mystery. A woman of what? Mystery, Captain. A woman of mystery. To sum up what you've been saying, Mrs. Banks, this woman, Dorothy Jessup, answered an advertisement you put in the paper and... Uh-huh. It said, Refined Lady has pleasant furnished room to rent in own home. That's beside the point. I decided to take a room, Captain. Not so much because I needed the money, though I could use it, of course, as because I get kind of lonesome. And I figured having another woman in the house... We've gone over that. ...and Jessup seemed so nice and quiet. Mrs. Banks, if you... She wasn't a giddy young thing. She was 45 at least. So I thought... The point, Mrs. Banks, is that she never told you anything about herself. And that's why I say she was mysterious, Captain. Most women do tell things. Women like to talk. Yeah, I'm getting the proof of that. What? Take it easy, Logan. Take it easy. Mrs. Banks... You want to take another picture of me, Mr. Casey? Well, I've taken a half a dozen of you while you've been getting acquainted with the Captain. But you see, now we'd like to nail something down. Did Miss Jessup ever say or do anything to give you the idea that she had secrets? Secrets that might possibly explain her murder? She certainly did do something. Oh? She'd come into my house with a suitcase. And from that day on, she never went out of her room without leaving that suitcase locked. How did you discover that? I... How do you suppose I discovered it? A body's got every right to find out whether folks distrust them and lock things up. Sergeant Martin. Yes, sir? There's a locked suitcase in the dead woman's room. Bring it here if the tech man are finished with it. Okay, Captain. I was just coming out for you. The Doc would like to have you in there for a minute. All right. You stay here with Mrs. Banks. Excuse me. You don't have to leave a policeman to watch me. Oh, no, no, no. Don't worry. You're not being watched, Mrs. Banks. Say, whose picture is this on your wall? This beautiful young woman. Why, Mr. Casey, believe it or not, that's a photograph of me. Took 50 years ago. You know, I figured it was you. You could tell. Seeing me all wrinkled now and shrunk up. Well, your face still has the fine lines of the girls in this picture. Oh, that's nice of you to say. My husband used to make pretty speeches like that to me. Charlie's been gone now for 14 years. Tell us about yourself and your husband, Mrs. Banks, for the story I'll write. Well, your newspaper story won't be the first one read about Charles Peter Banks and me, Miss Williams. We was once somebodies. Uh, somebodies? You ever hear of Lisbeth Fontenoy? No. Of course you didn't. Lisbeth Fontenoy was my stage name. Back in your grandmother's day. You were an actress? Uh-huh. What was called a soubrette. What do you know? Oh, I wasn't a very good one. I guess I was just young and pretty and looked good and tight. My husband was a real somebody, though. Charles Peter Banks was educated, a scholar. He wrote a book. A book, yeah? About historical things you probably wouldn't understand. There's the book he wrote on the table. Oh, may I look at it? Sure. But handle it careful. It's old and not very strong, like me. I'll be careful. Uh, let's see, Casey. Hmm. The art of war in the Middle Ages. Colleges and museums used to ask for my Charlie's opinion on that subject. Oh, he knew all about battle axes and swords and what men wore when they fought in ancient days. And newspapers and magazines used to mention his name. Mine, too. Uh, you might maybe put in a word or two about that in your story, Miss. I shall, Mrs. Banks. Oh, here's that dratted captain back again. All the docs just confirmed my opinion of this stabbing case, eh? What'd he say, Logan? That only a very strong person could have done the job. The knife was driven completely through that woman's body and through a rib bone. Through a rib bone? Yeah. Say, Mrs. Banks, do you know of any big or very strong people who were associated with Miss Jessup? Well, I don't know if you call my next-in-law a neighbor associated with her, but he's big and strong, and she had a fight with him last week. Huh? She had a fight? Well, not exactly a fight. She just told him she'd scratch his eyes out if he didn't stop getting drunk and pestering her. Oh, Gus Ettenberg's what I call a masher. Made Lena Finnegan mad as all get out when Gus took a shy in to Miss Jessup. Well, what was Lena Finnegan mad about? She was jealous. She wants to marry Gus. They'd make a good pair. Lena's big as a skinned horse, just like he is. At last, you're telling me something that may help my investigation. Now hold your horses. I don't think Gus or Lena killed Miss Jessup, though I might be wrong. Have you looked into a suitcase yet? No, but I got it here. Also, the key to it found in the dead woman's purse. I'll open it now, and let's see. Hm, only a few papers inside. I'll see what they are. Look at this. I've seen documents like that before. It's a parolee's discharge from Avon Prison. In the name of Dorothy Jessup Prentice. Dorothy Prentice? She's the dame who murdered them. Yeah, yeah, I remember reading about that case. The parole board let her out last spring after she'd served 20 years of a life sentence. You mean my rumor was a murderous? It sure was. She carved up a guy named Lou Costa, who was a big rum runner back in Prohibition days, Mrs. Banks. And now she's been killed with a knife. Casey, this is finally beginning to look like front page. I'll say it is. We can resurrect the story of the Costa murder, Dorothy Prentice's trial, her 20 years in prison, everything. Oh, I never would have dreamed. Now I can figure why she was scared of that man. Man? What man? The mysterious man, Mrs. Banks. Oh, no. Lady, will you please talk straight? She told me, if this man ever come to the house, that I was to say she didn't live here. She described him to me, and then one day he did come. I did as she asked, and he went away. But later, only two or three days ago, I seen him watching the house. When I told her, she liked to die the fright. Now you tell me about this. Well, you didn't ask me about the mysterious man before. Of course, now I figure he was a detective who was watching. Mrs. Banks, let me figure. Hold it, Polly. Mother Banks, will you describe the mysterious man to me? Of course I will, boy. He was a big, gray-haired fellow with a little black mustache and a long scar on his left cheek. A scar? It ran from the bridge of his nose right down to his jaw. Logan, yeah. She's described Mike Cost, a brother of the rat Dorothy Prentice killed. Mike's one of the toughest crooks in my book, and he's never been known to forget a grudge. He's paid that dame off for knifing his brother. Oh, Casey, will this be a story? And I'll be in it, Miss Williams. I'll say you'll be in it, Mrs. Banks, as a star witness. But on your hat and coat, Mrs. Banks, we're going to headquarters where you can look at Mike Cost's picture. And if you identify him, this case will be all washed up. That's the picture of the man I know, Captain. That mysterious man Miss Jessup was afraid of. Sergeant, get out a pickup order on Scarface Mike Cost. Have him brought in here and quick. The boys have got Mike Cost, Captain. That's swell, Sergeant. Bring him in here. I don't think you'd like him in your private office the way he is, sir. What do you mean? Mike tried to shoot it out with the cops who cornered him, and he didn't do so well. They're in good health, but he's dead. He tried shooting it out. Right, Casey. That's pretty good proof that he killed Dorothy Prentice. We knew why the cops were after him. Excuse me, Miss Williams. According to the report I just got, Mike started shooting for an entirely different reason. What reason? He thought the boys had his number for the stick-up killing of that gas station attendant last night. Captain, he was pulling that stick-up way over on the east side at the very time Dorothy Prentice was being stabbed way over on the west side. Are you sure? Yes, sir. He's been positively identified as the stick-up killer. There goes my case against Mike Cost. And my beautiful corny story about a brother's revenge. The death of Mrs. Banks' woman of mystery is becoming mysterious after all. Come in, Mr. Casey. I'm delighted to see you. Thank you, Mrs. Banks. Sit down, and I hope you won't mind the mustn-my-polling. Some of my neighbors were in. Neighbors who never called on me before. They wanted to hear firsthand about my poor dead roommate. They just left, and I ain't have time to clear up the tea things we use. Can I give you a cup of tea? No, no, thanks. No, Mrs. Banks, I, uh... I came here for a talk. That's fine. I like to talk. Yeah. You like to have people want to talk to you. Huh? Yes, everybody wants that. Especially those who've been a somebody, like you were. Oh, I was never much. Just an actress without much talent. My husband was really the somebody. Yes, I, uh, stopped in at the public library this afternoon and looked over the book he wrote. You did? Mm-hmm. And I found his The Art of War in the Middle Ages pretty highbrow stuff. A lot of it was way over my head, but it gave me an idea. Just like it gave you one. I don't know what you mean. You killed Dorothy Jess's apprentice, didn't you? Of course you're joking. No, Mrs. Banks. Young man, I weigh just 87 pounds in my heaviest coat and winter galoshes. Are you saying that I drove a knife completely through that big woman? Yes, and you did it from outside of a locked window. Exactly how did I do that? You did it with one of the medieval weapons your husband wrote about. The kind that could throw an arrow, a spear, and a knife with accuracy and silence and great force. Like modern guns, some of those old contraptions could be operated by a child or a weak little woman. The window was open three inches. The knife was shot through that opening. You figured you were creating a really great mystery. That appeal to the dramatic instinct no actress ever loses. You're pretty smart, young man. You know, I never figured that Wendy could be shut and locked from the outside the way you said. You kind of spoil the mystery. Hmm. You admit you killed Dorothy Prentice. Of course I don't. I'm just talking. It's nice to talk, even on a crazy subject. Why, in your opinion, did I kill that woman? In order to get attention. The attention you've been without for so long. Well, I've been pretty lonesome. I've wanted folks to notice me again, but do you think that's a good enough motive for what you say I've done? It wouldn't have been for you if you hadn't learned that your rumor was a freed murderess. You considered her life of little value. It didn't have any value. She was a bad woman. She went to the library, got old newspapers, and read about her case. That's how you found out about Scarface Mike Costa, the brother of the guy she killed? Uh-huh. Even come across some pictures of him. He never came here looking for Dorothy Prentice, as you said. No, but that seemed a good story to tell the cops. I guess you're ready now to tell the true story to the cops. There ain't been much in the papers about me during the last couple of days, and next week there wouldn't be nothing, maybe. And folks had stopped calling on me, and I'd be alone again. By me telling the cops, I won't be forgotten so quick. And you'll put some more pictures of me in the papers soon? Yes. We'll go down to headquarters right now, and I'll confess to everything you've said. Dirt good idea you've given me, young fella. I'll get my code. Hey, hey, well, wait a minute. Huh? What do you mean you'll confess to everything I've said, that I've given you a good idea? Well, you understand English, don't you? Yes, but look here, am I wrong about this? Did you kill that woman? I'll get the code for barging in. Wait a minute, Mrs. Banks, if you're not really guilty, if you mean to confess to something you didn't do... I can't hear you. Well, I say you can't do that. Wait till I get back to the parlor. Now, what did you say I couldn't do? You... What's that in your hands? The thing that shot a knife clean through that woman's body. There's another knife in it now, young fella, and it's pointed straight at you. I see. I'm going to let you have it now. There's nothing I can do to stop you, I guess. Where's the ring? Here. Take the darn thing out of my hands. It's heavy. You... you're just handing it to me? Well, it's the evidence you needed. You didn't have none before. But I... Fooled you, didn't I? You were chump enough to think that I'd hurt a nice young fella like yourself. Yes. I can fool folks right along. I'm the real woman of mystery, Mr. Casey. But I'll get you guessing again before we're through. Oh, let's be getting down to headquarters. I want to confess and have some fun with them, please. What was the gadget Mrs. Banks had, Casey, that shoots knives? That was a crossbow, Everett. A deadly little war machine used about seven or eight hundred years ago. Crossbow? Uh-huh. It's a short bow set across a hunk of wood that was shaped pretty much like a rifle stock. It's a very, very sharp knife. It's a very sharp knife. It's a very sharp knife. It's a very sharp knife. It's a very sharp knife. It's a very sharp knife. It's a very sharp knife. It's small enough that I can use it for weapons. A knife is made. It wears on the neck pretty much like a rifle stock. It was made to shoot short arrows or bolts that were about the length of modern carving knives. Things in antique that Mrs. Banks' husband had picked up. Poor old lady. So lonesome she committed murder to get attention. What will be done with her? Insane, asylum. Well, she'll be perfectly happy So the docs say, in the legal definition, Poor old lady. Hmm. Think of the poor doctors and nurses are going to have her on their hands. They'll never know what she's going to pull from one moment to the next. I wish I were sure of what she's already pulled. Hmm? What do you mean, Casey? I'm never going to be absolutely sure she used that crossbow, that she's really a murderess. I'll never be really sure that she hasn't played me for a chump in order to get what she wanted. The solution of this mysterious mystery is still a mystery, huh? I don't think so, but... Ah, nuts. Look, if you two won't kibitz too much, maybe I can really dope out that third race. Crime Photographer, starring Stutz Cotsworth, 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 John Gart, and the program features Jan Meinler as Anne, and John Gibson as Ethelbert, and Eva Condon as Mrs. Banks. Herman Chittison is the blue note pianist. This adventure of Crime Photographer, starring Stutz Cotsworth as Casey, came to you through the worldwide facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio Service, the voice of information and education. Music by John Deets Music by John Deets
