["The Star Spangled Banner"] Standard of California, on behalf of the independent Chevron gas stations and standard station throughout the West, invites you to let George do it. ["The Star Spangled Banner"] The corpse that took a powder, another adventure of George Valentine. Personal notice, danger is my stock and trade. If life's tossing curves you can't handle, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. ["The Star Spangled Banner"] Dear Mr. Valentine, they say that if you think about suicide twice, you won't go through with it. Well, I've thought of suicide over and over again. Tomorrow evening I'm going through with it. Unless by then you can find some way of freeing me from this horror and the fear that's driving me to this. Hurry, please hurry, Mr. Valentine. I need somebody's help so badly. I need somebody's help so badly. I'm desperate. And it's signed Marsha Palmer, Afton Apartments 4A. All right, Brooksie, we'd better get on our bicycles. Wait a minute, George. Well, don't you think this note sounds, well, a little hysterical? Offbeat? Yeah, that's what I meant. Come to think of it, let's change that to motorcycle. Well, I meant something else. Why don't we telephone the Afton Apartments? Tell the young lady just to stay put till we get over this. Uh-uh, Angel, too much of a chance. Suppose we aren't persuasive enough. It might rush things along. Well, still, I... It may not be easy to explain a great horror of fear and so many words on the phone. Yeah, well, maybe you're right. So come on, Brooksie, there's only one way to tell. Excuse me, Mother. Oh, oh, young man, you nearly frighten me out of my wits. Oh, sorry, we just wanted to get to one of those bells. Oh. Funny how you fall into a routine, Miss. First, I shine up the mailboxes in the vestibule, then I work on the brass around the buzzers. Yeah, well, that's a very nice system, but... A little intelligence doesn't hurt, even if you're only a scrub woman. Oh, no, true. Words were ever spoken. What was that apartment number again, George? Of course, I haven't always done this kind of work. I wouldn't be doing it now if I weren't at Liberty. But when you've got a job to do, you do it the best you know how. Yeah, you're so right, Mother. But how about letting us at Marcia Palmer's bell? Miss Palmer? That's what the gentleman said. Hmm. Yeah, I've been worried about that girl the last few days. Worried? Why? Oh, you know how it is with people's appearances. You can always tell. She's afraid of something. Yes, sir, afraid. Uh-huh. Well, we'll try to take care of that. Which one of these bells do we ring? Oh, you don't have to press the bell. Just take the elevator up. It's self-service. It's the third floor, 3A. I know she'll be glad to see friends, of course. 3A. Hey, are you sure it's 3A? Young man, I haven't worked here for a long time, I have. I should know where the tenants live. Of course, I'm only a scrub woman. All right, I'm all right, sorry. 3A it is. What's the matter, George? Nothing. I just think more than ever we ought to hurry. Maybe Miss Palmer has thought of suicide once too often. Here we are, George, 3A. Yeah. She's just got to be in, Bruxy. Well, that's a good sign. I heard somebody moving inside. Good. Hello. Miss Palmer at home? I haven't the slightest idea. What? Well, I've been trying to work up enough nerve to find out that very thing myself. Well, you certainly should be in a position to know. This is her apartment, isn't it? Look, did I meet you people somewhere with Marcia? Here at my place at a party perhaps? No, wait a minute, wait a minute. Is this your place? Well, that's what the lease says. The name is Glenn Stratton. I'm a commercial artist. We're not work. Where does Marcia Palmer live? Right over my head, just like an angel. Apartment 4A. Sorry, it seems we got the wrong information. It is nothing wrong, is there? I've been worried about Marcia lately. She hasn't seen herself. Yeah, I know. Afraid of something. That's exactly it. Come on, let's get upstairs, Bruxy. Oh, if you see her, old man, would you tell her that her persistent suitor would love to have dinner with her? The charge will be a dollar for 10 words, Mr. Stratton. All right. Come on, honey, no use waiting for the elevator. Mr. Stratton is quite a boy. Any minute you expect him to step back into Esquire. Yeah, that's right. I wonder why Mother down in the vestibule gave us a bum steer about the apartment number. If anybody, she should know where people live in this place. Let's be charitable and say she's slightly pixelated. This must be a hearing, John. I better try it again. Obviously, Marcia hasn't any fear of the outside world. The door's open. Miss Palmer? Let's try the living room. Oh, did you say living room, Bruxy? She's had stuff all over the front of her, isn't red ink? Oh, George, maybe we better. Bruxy, don't touch. But I... This is a deal for the police. Anyway, she was considered enough to leave a note right here with a gun. Oh, what does it say? Please forgive me. I hope this doesn't hurt anybody too much, but I really can't go on any longer. Marcia, Marcia. Oh, maybe if we'd come sooner. She must have a telephone somewhere around here. Usually they belong on desks. Oh, maybe it's in the bedroom. Oh, if we only knew what she meant by the fear that was driving her to this. There's a lot of things we don't know about Marcia Palmer. There's the phone on the bed table. I don't know how I'm going to explain this to Lieutenant Riley. Hello, Riley's office, please. This is Valentine. Seems simple enough to explain, but when you're all through, somehow you don't believe. Oh, hello, Riley. Yeah, me. I'm at the Afton Apartments, 45 Lorraine. Yeah, I know you're happy to know where I am. Now, look, a client of mine, Marcia Palmer, has committed suicide. OK, OK, I know it's a big town and you can't go poking into every suicide, but... I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for poking into every suicide, but... Oh, sure, I could report it through the ordinary channels, but believe me, there's something off beat about this case. OK, if you don't want to bother, I'll just take care of this myself. OK. Well, I guess we can expect a lieutenant, Brooksie. Good. Now, let's get inside and see what we can find around here. I don't think I'd like to look at her again if I can help it. Brooksie, I don't think you're going to have to look at her. What do you mean? She isn't there. But that's impossible. I know. She couldn't have just walked out of here. And the notes gone. Oh, Riley's going to love this. Well, anyway, the gun is still here. There's something I'd like to know right now, Brooksie. What do you mean, George? Do I or don't I have a client? Well... And if I do, where is she? Dead or alive. Oh, hey, you. You're the janitor here, aren't you? I'm the superintendent here, if that's what you mean. Oh, I'm sorry, Chief. Not that I believe anything like this happened, but did you notice Miss Palmer leave the building within the last few minutes? Oh, the model? Oh, whatever she was. Did you see her? No, and I've been working on this lawn for the last half hour. And if she did, I certainly would have... Young lady, could you say whatever she was? Skip it, Chief. And did you see anyone else come out carrying a, say, a large bundle and driving off with it? Nobody. This is a very quiet time of the day around here. I see. Hey, look, who are you people, anyway? Say, I want to talk to that elderly lady who cleans the halls for you. And have you understand that I do every stitch of work around here myself. That's why it's so neat and clean. But we talked to a scrub woman when we came in. In the flesh. We don't have a scrub woman here. The way I keep this place, you can eat off the floor. But I just... We have no scrub woman. Valentine, aside from being a cop, I'm trying to be a logical understanding man. When you tell me there was a girl sitting in this chair when you came in and she committed suicide, natural curiosity makes me ask one simple question. Where's the body? We don't know. Stop repeating yourself, Miss Brooks. But she was there. Mm-hmm. And while you were telephoning me in the bedroom, the corpse walked out on you. Well, I don't know why I should let that upset me. That sort of thing happens every day. Well, it happened today. What about this letter she sent me, Lieutenant? And there's the gun still on the desk. Valentine, half the people who write you should be rounded up with a butterfly net. The gun, Lieutenant? Yes, we'll look at that right now. Careful, like so we won't destroy the all-important fingerprints in this amazing case. There. Do you see what I see, Mr. Valentine? Yeah, yeah. Not one shot, then five? Mm-hmm. And from the looks and smell of this murderous instrument, I'd say it hadn't been used in weeks. All right, all right. I admit I'm stumped. And this is the gun the girl who isn't here used to commit suicide. Ah. How do you know she was even dead? Did you examine the body? That's not fair, Lieutenant. You know you're not supposed to touch the body. And where is this, this female Harvey who loves to polish mailboxes and doorknobs, but who doesn't work here? Don't rub it in, Lieutenant. But I'm going to find an answer to this. Oh, it's all yours. I'm going to have one of the boys track down you, Miss Palmer, for you. But if you ask me, my friend, somebody's taking you for a ride. Well, if you ask me, my friend, it's Marsha Palmer who's been taken for a ride. We'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine in just a moment. Meanwhile, a word about conservation in your car. 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We're now back to tonight's adventure of George Valentine. Well, a young model threatens suicide, so you darn quick get over to her apartment, but she's already dead. You go into the bedroom to call Lieutenant Riley on the phone, but when you come back, the body isn't there at the desk anymore, all of which makes no sense at all. If you're like George Valentine, you find yourself face to face with, of all things, a theatrical agent. No, no, no, Max. None of the ladies in these pictures is the one I'm looking for. Ah, what are you saying, Georgie? Every one of these ladies spent the better part of their lives scrubbing floors in front of audiences. Yeah, I'll take your word for it, but would you... The admittance of Maine. Look at her there. In one place, she spent two full-action on her knees scrubbing floors to send her son to medical school. Ah. And then, in the third act, when he's the president of the same medical school, he presses her on the corridor. You don't even recognize it. Pathetic, isn't it? Yeah, I'm all choked up, Max, but will you listen to me? Wasn't I all the time? No, I told you I feel pretty sure that someone hired a woman and a darn good actress to play the part of a phony scrub woman at the Afton Apartments today. Ah, how can you be so sure? She was an actress, Georgie. A phrase she used, Max. She said she only worked there because she was at Liberty. Now, that's a theatrical term. You know that. At Liberty. Ha. Oh, I hate those words. The more I hear them, the more money I don't make. Come on, come on. Think hard, Max. I described it to you. She has a thin, hatchet-like face with eyes that try to smile at you, but you couldn't quite believe it. Wait a minute, Georgie. I got a few more pictures. People I ain't used for years. I'll let you see them. Hold it till I call my secretary. Oh, am I kidding? I ain't got a secretary. Oh, same old Max. Hey, there's room for 10 bucks on the expense account if you can be of help. Must be down here in this drawer. Here, take a look, Georgie. Okay, all right. No. No. That one it wouldn't be. Very versatile. Well, let's strictly boil this. Hey, hey, wait a minute. Who's this? You recognize her? She's the one, all right. What's her name? Where does she live? I'll get you that information in a minute, sir. I'll just get my secretary. Max. Who am I kidding? I used to have a secretary. Anyway, on the back of it, it says her name is Amy Randall. Her address? Hotel Raleigh. Character parts. All dialects. Glad to audition. Age over 21. They all say that. Okay, thanks, Max. I think I found just what I want. I don't know how you found out where I live, Mr. Valentine, and I don't know what you want from an old scrub woman. Do you mind if I hold your hand a minute, Mom? Now, young man, I... Such soft, well-kept hands. Not the hands of a scrub woman. Huh? Come on, Amy. Give it to me straight. I know all about you. You're an actress. Oh. And I thought I played my part so perfectly. Oh, that you did. You did that. You deserve three curtain calls. But come on now. Who hired you to be there just when we arrived? When you've been out of work as long as I had, Mr. Valentine, you don't ask any questions. Fifty dollars for an hour's work is a lot of money. Who was the man? He never said. He gave you a check, didn't he? No, it was all cash. What did he look like? Well, he was rather short and sour, and he had just a kind of fringe of gray hair on his head. Yeah? He came to the stage once and looked me up. He said he was playing a practical joke on somebody. I just had to say I was worried about Miss Palmer and put on an act. Uh-huh. For a moment there. Didn't you really believe I was a scrub woman? Didn't you? I told you before, Mom, you were slightly terrific. You don't know what it means for me to hear you say that. And you don't know just what kind of part you played in a little drama today. What? But then again, that makes us even, Mom. I don't know that either. All right, all right, if that's the way it has to be, the three of us will sit down here in the lobby until Miss Palmer gets home tonight. I don't know why you're here at all, Lieutenant Riley. I thought you were convinced that this was all a weird joke and somebody was taking George for a ride. Well, uh, practically your own words, Lieutenant. Valentine, I can handle you alone and Miss Brooks, I don't have too much trouble with you either. But when both of you gang up on me like this, I... Yeah. Well, the truth is we haven't been able to find the Palmer Dame all afternoon. And I just didn't put one man on the job but six. I covered all the places she usually hangs around to and nobody's seen her. If you just stop blustering and pouting, Lieutenant, I'd like to say thanks for coming back. Yeah? Well, I'm not doing you any favors. Every time you get a case like this, I get a headache. Let's say I'm here just because I can't afford to buy any more aspirin. Well, how do you figure it, Lieutenant? Somebody went to a lot of trouble to hire an actress so she could create an appropriate atmosphere for the so-called suicide. I know, Miss Brooks, I know. Lieutenant! Lieutenant Riley! Stratton, I told you the first word I got about her, I'd let you know. Oh, thank heaven you're still here. What's the matter with you? What happened? She... she... she's up there. Miss Palmer? In her apartment. She's sitting there at the desk. I thought for a moment she'd speak to me, but she didn't. Okay, don't fall apart. Let's have it in clear, simple language. Huh? In words of small syllables. She... she's dead. She killed herself. No question about it now, she's good and dead. What were you doing here anyway, Stratton? I... I thought I heard footsteps so I came up. You see, we... we had a little argument last night. I just wanted to tell her I was sorry. What kind of an argument? The kind two people have. I mean, I'm not sure I'd be able to tell her I'm sorry. I mean, I'm not sure I'd be able to tell her I'm sorry. I mean, I'm not sure I'd be able to tell her I'm sorry. What kind of an argument? The kind two people have when they love each other. No reason for it, but... I don't know when you want to make up for it. Suddenly it's just too late. All right, Stratton. We'll talk about that sometime later on. But why the fake suicide this afternoon? And then to come back here tonight and go through the whole thing for keeps? Hey, this might mean something, Lieutenant. What's that? There's a smear of blood on the light switch over there. Oh, I must have done that. You see, it was dark and fumbling for the light. I must have touched the desk first. Didn't even notice it because as soon as I saw... This gun on the desk, the one this Palmer used, have you ever noticed it around here before? Yeah. I told Marcia she was a fool to keep it around, but she had a license for it and she felt she was safer with it. Any reason why she should write me a letter like this? Go on, Stratton, take a good look at it. It's Marcia's handwriting, all right, I'm sure of that. I... I can't understand what she could have meant. Didn't you yourself say she seemed to be afraid of something? I said she looked as though she did and she really did, but I still don't know what it could have been. Okay, Valentine, I know there might be a lot more to this, but for the time being I've got to accept the obvious. Obvious, he says. Miss Palmer wrote you a letter threatening suicide. She went through with it. That's all we've got to work on for the time being. Oh, Stratton. Yes, sir. Be at headquarters at 10 in the morning. We want to get your story down straight. That happens to be a very convenient hour for me, Lieutenant. You see, I'm unemployed. Oh, one more thing, Stratton. Yeah? Marcia was a model. Where did she work? She modeled clothes for a big firm downtown called the Mode Moderna. Uh-huh. Which brings me to you, Brooksie. Huh? I fail to see the connection. We'll talk about it later. But you also have a date tomorrow morning at 10. Yes, Miss Brooks. I'm Miss Gavrin, the head model here. Well, I know you're going to think I'm just perfectly mercenary. Aren't we all? I mean, to be here at the Mode Moderna, the first thing in the morning after reading about what happened to that poor Marcia Palmer, wasn't it perfectly awful? Yes. It was quite a shock to all of us here. Well, I thought there might be an opening for me here. After all, I'm a perfect 12 and I've had loads of experience modeling. You can check with Mr. Gillespie at High Style Incorporated or Mr. Farbstein at the... Well, even if Mr. Morwiart were here, he's the head of the firm, you know. I doubt if this would be the right time to talk about taking Marcia's place. I think he was more upset than any of us about what happened. Well, like I said, wasn't it perfectly awful? The paper said there was a note. She was afraid of something. That I don't believe, Miss Brooks. You don't? Marcia and I were quite close. She wasn't afraid of anything. She was always happy and cheerful, especially yesterday when we had lunch together. You don't say? I even asked her what there was to be so happy about. Oh, she said it was a joke and she'd tell me about it some other time. A joke, huh? Isn't that just perfectly... I know. Awful. Now, if you'd like to leave your name... Well, I would like to talk to Mr. Wyat. I'm afraid you can't. He won't be in at all today. He's being honored at a luncheon at the Commodore, his club. How perfectly exciting. He even has a picture in the paper. Here. Oh, my. He looks so friendly and chubby. Marcia and I call Mr. Wyat, Cupid. Oh, but never to his face, if you know what I mean. Shall I tell him that you'll get in touch with him, Miss Brooks? Oh, but definitely. Well, your little interview at Mode Modern, Angel, only makes this case screwier than ever. Well, as soon as I heard about Mr. Wyat and saw his angelic countenance in the paper, I thought he might fit in somewhere. A short, chubby little man hired our actress friend to play Scrub Woman. Oh, he fits in all right, but not with the facts. What do you mean, George? Just a minute, Brooks. Let's go and see Riley, see what he's got out of Stratton. Oh, Valentine, I've been expecting you. Good morning, Lieutenant. Oh, yeah, Lieutenant. Oh, so-so. Well, here's the way it stacks up this morning. The medical examiner goes along with the suicide theory. Gun, fingerprints, everything. Stratton here tells a straight story. Thank you, Lieutenant. So that's about it for now, Valentine. Just one thing's been puzzling me. Yeah? Stratton, apartment 4A where Marsha lived has exactly the same layout as yours in 3A, hasn't it? I suppose so. You know, these apartment houses, not much imagination. But you said you fumbled for the light switch and got blood on it because you were over at the desk first. That's exactly what you said, Stratton. Well, I suppose so. I don't remember. Three of us were there when you said it. Now, why did you have to fumble for the light switch? It's exactly in the same place in Marsha's apartment as in yours, right next to the door. Well, maybe I didn't explain myself just right for the- You were planning Marsha's body at the desk where it was and the gun, too. No, no, you're wrong. That's what you wanted to do in darkness. Then you put on the light and went running downstairs. That's why- Hold it, Valentine. Hold it. I'll take it from here. Look, Lieutenant, you've got to listen to me. I- That smear of blood on the light switch puts you square on the spot, fellow. Now, the less you say now without a lawyer, the better. I'm holding you on suspicion of murder. Well, you'll have to pardon us. Brooksie and I have a luncheon date at the Commodore. Huh? Have we? Oh, oh, yes, yes. Oh, wait a minute, Valentine. I want to talk to you about- Maybe you're happy about this way this case washed out, Lieutenant, but I'm not. Come on, keep talking, Mr. Warren. I-I-I don't know what to say. I should be inside in the ballroom, Mr. Valentine, talking to the fellows. How can you even think of your silly club now after everything that's happened? All in all, it was a pretty elaborate job, even hiring a character actress to build suspense. Yes, I-I-I tried to think of everything. You did? Oh, it was a clever stunt, all right, getting Miss Palmer to write that letter to me. It amounted to a suicide. I knew I couldn't afford to overlook a thing. I'm sorry. Sorry I ever got involved in the whole mess. Okay, Mr. Wyatt, don't take it so hard. You better get back to your luncheon and, oh, yeah, go easy on the cream chicken. George, I'm still reeling. Yeah, I can see what you mean, all right. I know children can be children, but a grown man like Mr. Wyatt- Oh, not a mere man, Angel, the new president of the Liars Club being honored at the Commodore, no less. Hm, fantastic. You see, Brooksy, he had to have the tallest story ever heard for this inaugural, and he probably would have had. I'll say. A suicide that wasn't a suicide, a missing body and all the trimmings. He knows all the names, facts and answers. But still, there he was, free and unfettered to address all his fellow liars. Boy, can you top that one? Not at the moment. But maybe Marsha wouldn't have been murdered at all if Mr. Wyatt hadn't dreamed up that gag. No, Brooksy, we can be pretty sure she would have. You read Glenn Stratton's confession. He was insanely jealous. He was just waiting for the right opportunity. Hm, thinking back, it makes me shudder, George. To fool us, Marsha went down to Stratton's apartment, probably laughing at the joke. Then he killed her and brought her back upstairs. Yeah, Wyatt must have hooked up the deal with his favorite model down at Stratton's apartment. That's why Wyatt told the phony scrub woman it was 3A. Darling, Riley's never going to forgive you for leaving him up in the air, not knowing whether he had the murderer or not. Yeah, but I had to talk to my client, Brooksy. Client? What, can you think of anybody else in the case I could pin for a fee, except the biggest liar in the world? George, I have an idea. Let's present him with a bill that will make even Mr. Wyatt scream, it's a lie! It's often the little things that make your day a good one or a rough one. The simple business of starting your car, for example. If it's obstinate and gives you a bad time when you want to get going, it can add up to a lot of irritation. For fast starts every time and wherever you're driving, just try Chevron Supreme gasoline in your car. This premium quality gasoline is climate tailored, specially adapted to each different climate at the altitude zone in the West. Day or night, summer or winter, you can depend upon it for fast starts. And that's a saving, too, of the power in your battery. What's more, Chevron Supreme gives your car smooth acceleration and extra power for rugged hills. Get a tank full tomorrow at any standard station or independent Chevron gas station where they say, and mean, we'll take better care of your car. Next week, when you tune our way for another adventure of George Valentine, you'll hear... Hey, look, Barney, what was the idea dragging me into this doorway when that car came over? Boy, Mr. Valentine, did you see him turn around and beat it when he started getting to work? What works? What happened? Oh, we figured you might be followed when you left the Swedes, so the bearcats were ready on the roof with ash cans, bricks, cans of garbage, stuff like that. Boy, did they let him have it. I suppose I should say thanks. Ah, nothing to it. Say, what did you find out about Danny? Nothing much, kid, except that there are at least two characters who do anything to keep me from finding out. Well, don't you worry. They won't, not with the bearcats on the job. Tonight's adventure of George Valentine has been brought to you by Standard of California on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West. Let George Do It stars Robert Bailey as George with Frances Robinson as Claire. Wally Mayer appears as Lieutenant Riley. Tonight's story was written by David Victor and Herbert Little, Jr. and directed by Don Clark. Also heard in the cast were Jacqueline DeWitt as Gloria, Tony Barrett as Glenn Stratton, Glenn Delano as the scrub woman, Ralph Moody as the janitor and Harry Lang as Max. The music is composed and conducted by Eddie Dunstetter, your announcer, John Heston. Listen again next week, same time, same station, to Let George Do It. This is the Mutual Downlea Broadcasting System.
