Personal notice, danger to my stock and trade. If the job's too tough for you to handle, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. Standard of California, on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West, invite you to Let George Do It. Sweet poison, another adventure of George Valentine. Dear Mr. Valentine, I'm writing to you because I don't know where else to turn and in this hour of need I must turn somewhere. Can you hear me? Hello, can you hear me Mr. Valentine? Yes, of course, but who are you? What are you calling me? Please don't interrupt Mr. Valentine. I've already wasted five minutes writing full details the way your ad says to, but if you won't listen, if you make me send it through the mail, it'll be too late. All right lady, go on and read your letter. Thank you. It is essential that you come at once to solve a crime. Please hurry, because Mr. Valentine, there has been a murder at our house. Where? Mr. Valentine, at our house and I need your help desperately. Sign yours truly, Gloria Bishop, 603 North 72nd Street. I'm sorry, we don't want any not even samples. Come again sometime. George. Oh no, you don't, Buster. Don't forget to take your foot out of the door. This is 603 North 72nd Street, isn't it? Darling, it is also Monday afternoon and on Monday there is a deadline and inside is a man at work who doesn't like to work, not even on Monday. So please, if you love your fellow man... Who is it, Melville? I hate you both. Nobody! I like you too, Melville. Hello, nobody. The name's Valentine, this is Miss Brooks. No, I'm sorry, sit down. We'll talk. Anything about the vintage wines, politicals, cooking? Don't please ignore them like they never happened. Get back to the easel. It's three o'clock. There's a whole lithograph company waiting. Silence! Forgive my rude frame, Mr. Valentine. This is Melville Bond, my publisher. Publisher? If I don't look the type, it's from smoking too many cigars and pulling out too many gray hairs. Men's magazines, that's my line. But what's in men's magazines? Women. And how do women get in men's magazines? By me trying to make characters like Jonas here work. Hold it, hold it, hold it, will you? The drawings on the wall, all of them girls. He calls you Jonas. You're the famous painter Wentworth Jonas, aren't you? Your clairvoyance is frightening, young man. The Jonas girls? Of course. I bet your name is on every pin of pictures. You needn't spoil my afternoon, Miss Brooks. I know, ashtrays, calendars, neckties. There's nowhere my infamy hasn't reached. But I was an artist once, I painted still life. Beautiful cabbages and beefsteak and... And it's three o'clock and there's a girl in a bathing suit carrying a turkey for the Thanksgiving cover. Well, take it the way it is. But you haven't painted the bathing suit yet. Oh, for the last time, gentlemen, stop it, will you? Maybe neither one of you two gentlemen cares, but I came here to see about a murder. Murder? How considerate. If you'll just give me five minutes to lay out the court... Okay, skip it, will you? But there's some crazy girl by the name of Gloria Bishop who telephoned me. Gloria! Well, why didn't you say so? Young man, I'll have you know, Miss Bishop is the only woman in the world with a figure like one of my drawings. Go round the back door. What? Of course, my back door. She's my housekeeper. A girl like that is your housekeeper? Well, what did you think she was? My mother? Beat it, Mac. Go on, go on. You two sisters. No, no, not again. Hey, wait a minute. Look, what do you want to see a four in the first place? I'm getting a little tired. Pushing won't do you any good. I said beat it. Is that so? Beat it? Yeah. That's better. The perfect bodyguard, huh? You know how to shoot that thing? Want to find out? What is this? I knock on the back door and you... Hey, wait, Mac, far away. Otherwise... Excuse me. Maddie, where are... Oh, hello. Wow, hello. I guess you're Gloria Bishop. No question about that, George. Mr. Valentine and Miss Brooks, of course, but did you see a young man? Oh, sure, sure. We bumped into him. Left in kind of a hurry. Oh, that's good. I didn't want him here when you... Who is he, Gloria? Oh, Maddie Riga. He's just a boy. I met him someplace. I'm always meeting people someplace. Yes, I can imagine. But he gets kind of attractive, don't you think? Yes, adorable. Okay, Gloria, you got us into this menagerie by yelling murder. Now, come on, fast. Let's have it. Oh, the murder. Well, come here. Come through here. I've been so upset I'm all unstrung. There, you see? A dead cat. Wouldn't you know? He just lies there, not doing anything. And he's so young. His life had barely begun. Did he get run over? Oh, no, I never allow him outside. His name was Handel. Never outside, huh? Gloria, what did you feed him? Well, fresh liver and a raw egg, that's right, for... Looked like he was poisoned. Oh, I knew it must be something awful like that. Well, he must have got to something. Have you asked Mr. Jones? Oh, no. I haven't told him so. And I wouldn't dare bother him. He says I should be seen and not heard. He scares me. He does? Well, then why do you work for him? For pay. Isn't that why you work? Yeah, now look, Gloria, could that cat have got to want a chocolate? Chocolate? Oh, yes, he was practically carnivorous. That means he'd eat anything. But, well, I never keep sweet things around. I mean, if I lost my figure, where would I be? Never mind. But maybe you've got a case at that, because look on his fur here. Yeah, I think Hannibal died from eating a chocolate cream. Of course, I didn't poison the beast, Mr. Valentine. I haven't killed anything for a week. All right, Mr. Jones. It didn't occur to me. Cat could be a rash, you know, all across the stomach like polka dots. So if you expect me to weep copious tears... I expect you to answer questions, that's all. Chocolate creams, I said. Do you eat them? My doctor hasn't let me touch anything richer than my pocketbook since the battle of the bull. But the cat hasn't been out of the house. Where did it go? Hold on, young lady. I believe there was a box of frustrating things around here somewhere. Why did you say so? Well, how should I know? Go look for them. Yes, Mr. Jones. I'll help you, Gloria. Women. Do you know I've painted wishful curves onto their silly skeletons until I'm positively seasick? Yes, well, my heart bleeds for you, Mr. Jones. But just where did you get the candy? Stubborn, aren't you? Came through the mail, I suppose. Everything does. Oh, what do you mean? The ridiculous distortion of the female frame that I popularize seems to drag me into the limelight, Mr. Valentine. I'm a public hero. Like Ali Khan or General Delivery. You get fan mail? By the garbage cans full. That is, I can't read, cigars I can't smoke, candy I can't eat. Huh? George, get some wrapping paper about the right size. It was in the wastebasket. Uh-huh, yeah. Address to Jonas. No return address, though. Postmark last night. Yes, that's it. I remember unwrapping the box. Mr. Jones, I think somebody sent poison candy to you. A critic? Hmm. Only Gloria's cat got it by mistake. Have you got any particular enemies? Ever receive any threats? Only from women's clubs. No, I... Well, this room was broken into about a week ago. What? At least my desk has been rifled and Gloria's certainly... Anything taken? My entire fortune. File copies of my income tax returns. What else can a man say? All right, let's start taking it seriously. Young man, I take everything seriously. Even myself. But not somebody trying to kill you. Well, what do you expect me to do? Just trying to think. Trying to remember. Gloria, have you found that candy yet? No, I haven't, Mr. Jones. I'm looking everywhere. Wait a minute. Valentine. He left here walking. His apartment hotel's only a few blocks down the street. Who? Melville Bond, of course. I unwrapped it. The cat must have taken a piece. But then I gave the box to Melville. You mean just now? No, no, no, no. It was early, around noon. He's been back and forth all day making me finish his blasted picture. Holy, and by now he's probably eaten a lot more than the cat of a day. Wait. I'm just remembering why it seemed like a good idea for him to take it. It is wife's birthday. Mr. Bond! Mr. Bond! Where'd he go, Zangel? Through the revolving door. Apartment hotel, that's right. George is coming out again. Hey, Mr. Bond! Back in again. What? George is falling. It's just going round and round. Come on, let go of that thing, will you? Let's get out of here. Now, here we go. Hey, Bond. Bond, can you hear me? Mr. Bond? Yes, yes, I... Are you the doctor? No, he's not dead. He's just sick, that's all. But Lieutenant Johnson, when we got to him, he wasn't carrying the box of candy. He must have eaten only a piece or two of it. That's what the hospital says. What did he do with the rest? I know. Where's the rest of it? That's what I'm talking about. The hospital's got him asleep. How you managed to get mixed up in cases where nobody can tell us. What about his wife? Mr. Jones said that's why Mr. Bond took the box for his wife's birthday. She hasn't got it. Mrs. Bond has been at a bridge luncheon all day eating carrots, salad, and greens. So now we've got the canvas every place in town that he's been... Hey, Valentine, where you going? Hey! Joy! Yes, Mr. Valentine, this is Mr. Bond's office. I see. Well, Miss Smith, I wanted to ask... But if it's about Mr. Bond's magazines, that's all over the printer's building. They have all the fun over there, darn it. I'm just the business department. And believe you me, for a girl who's been used to a social life... Yes, I've already been there. Also, it's club, a restaurant, and a barbershop. No, he gets around, but I don't. When a girl's married to a typewriter... Has Mr. Bond been here? Was he carrying a box of candy? No, if you're not the sociable type. Candy? Oh, Miss Smith, look, I said, has he? Yes, he was here, in and out. And the candy, the candy, a box he'd picked up at Jonas's. He was going to take it home to his wife. What? He was? Gee, if I'd realized, I mean... Well, he went hurrying out, and it was just sitting there with his umbrella and newspaper. I mean, when a girl's had practically nothing for lunch and is all alone in an office... Smith, I'm afraid to guess. Where's the candy now? Wastebasket. Wastebasket. I mean, well, I've always been weak that way. But you won't tell Mr. Bond, will you? Here's the box, all right? It's empty. Oh, clear empty. Smith! Coroner's report. 14 grains, Atlantic, my outside and stomach. No hope of counteracting. Miss Smith was dead on arrival. 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Ask for RPM motor oil at standard stations and at independent Chevron gas stations where they say and mean, we take better care of your car. And now back to tonight's adventure of George Valentine. A box of poisoned chocolates. One piece killed a cat. Then Mr. Jonas gave the box to Melville Bond, his publisher who needed the present for his wife's birthday. However, before Bond ever got home, he tasted the piece or two himself and lived, though sickly to regret it. The rest of the candy had been left forgotten at the office until a poor, unsuspecting secretary, Miss Smith, satisfied her appetite for sweets for a perp. Indirect, but it's still murder. If your name is George Valentine, what bothers you is where did the box come from in the first place? Valentine, the notion that anyone in this wide world would want to kill me is utterly ridiculous. You mean you wish it were? Yes, Mr. Jonas, the candy was addressed to you. But why? Nobody hates me. They love me, the idiot. You mean they love the kind of pinups you've got? Stop telling me what I mean, young man. I've never known how to do be able to. Jonas, please, please listen to what the detective- Melville, take a trip somewhere. Go convolete. Now look, both of you- Yes, I'm sick and this is the thanks I get for worrying about you. Ha ha ha ha ha. Scared you, doesn't it, Melville? Yes. Where would your magazine be if your little gold mine were dead? I almost wish I'd thought of you and gone off my diet. Jonas, no, no, please don't joke. It might happen again. Oh, now cut it out both of you, will you? In the first place, it's not going to happen again. Lieutenant Johnson's putting a bodyguard on you, Jonas, a sergeant who'll stay at your house and who'll bring every piece of mail you get down to headquarters unopened. Oh, good. I hope there are lots of bills. And in the second place, Jonas, I don't think so much of your sense of humor. Mr. Valentine, I almost wish I'd gone off my diet and eaten the candy myself. I mean it. Why? I'm thinking that poor girl, just as much as you are. She was reasonably young, reasonably intelligent. You knew Miss Smith? Occasionally she'd bring my checks from Melville to the house. She did just last week. You know, she's the only girl I've ever met who didn't seem envious of that preposterous invention of mine, the Jonas female figure. Miss Smith was not a dreamer. She was well shaped like a human being, even fat like I am. And for such a rare, honest creature to suffer in my place. Oh, don't get carried away, boy. What should I do? Wear a girdle on my tongue? I know it would be better for her because of course I make enemies, Valentine. I just hate to face the fact that an innocent bystander should have taken my medicine. Get to work, will you, Valentine? Find the murderer. Oh, what a night. Yeah, Jonas finally broke down and gave us a list of people he'd insulted. Half the town, I'll bet. At a wrapping paper, the box was sent in. We ran through every test known to mankind to Dick Tracy. Results? We've still got the anonymous poison. Oh, great, great. They're in an envelope, the boys tell me. For the last world they remain to Miss Smith, an innocent bystander, as the saying goes. But suppose this guy decides to meal somebody else something. How can we stop it? Lieutenant, what about that boy, Matty Riga, the one who acted so tough with a gun at the back door? Riga? Nah. He's a strong arm, that's all. Works for anybody. But connecting with Jonas? Nah. He's never even met the guy. Listen, what is it you want to bet? Another attempt on Jonas, or is it our netted killer sending poison to somebody else through the mail? Or is it your wife saying come home for breakfast? Hello? Johnson speaking. Oh, oh yeah, yeah, yeah. Who is it? Mobile Bond. Let me hear this. Go on, go on, what's the matter? I said get out here, Lieutenant, get out here quick. But where are you, Mr. Bond? I came over to see Jonas first thing this morning, but no one answered the door. I... Please hurry, Lieutenant. But there's a sergeant of mine out there, Douglas, where's he? I'm an ailing man, gray hair, and I don't feel... What's the matter with you? I'm all right, I just can't stand the sight of blood. Blood. So that's it. Sergeant Douglas? He's all right, though. Knocked out, that's all. Somebody smashed the vase over his head, see? I must alert Sergeant. But where's Mr. Bond? Right where he left us, Miss Brooks, by the telephone. Get his collar open. Come on, friend, wake up. Wake up. And hey, Brooks, come on now. What is it, George? Get up. Are your feet hurt? Your shoes pinch? Does your pocketbook pinch? Bad for a shoe store, Angel. Postcard here on the floor with the sergeant. What? Don't you get it? Maybe our killer is running a repeat performance. At least the mailman's already made a morning delivery. George! And who's the only person I can think of who could get the drop on Sergeant Douglas? Gloria. Come on. Well, she's not in her room. Yeah, but if we're right, Angel, there wasn't much time to get away. I'm not in there either. Hello, Gloria. Cleaning closets? Oh, Mr. Valentine, I didn't do anything honest. I didn't mean to hit him so hard. You didn't what? I didn't, but the vase broke and I guess it cut him, but I didn't mean to. And then Mr. Bond rang the bell. Hey, Gloria. Hey, kid, here I am. Gloria, I brought my car like you said. What's happened? Gloria, please. You mean what's going to happen? Slow down, Buster. Get the gun in. Yes. That's more like it. Hey, Valentine, what am I going to do? Meet Matty Rigger, a tough boy. What's going on in my house? The birth of a nation? All right, all right. Suppose we start with you, Mr. Jonas. Where have you been this morning? I went out for a walk. A walk? Yes, I've been reflecting. One thing for me to hate the world, but to reconcile myself to the idea that anyone would dare to hate me enough to want to kill me. I still just can't concede. Matty hates you, Mr. Jonas. What's that? He does, Mr. Jonas. Matty's divinely jealous. Hey, wait a minute. Slow down, kid. That's a cop over there. But you are jealous, Matty. You won't let anyone come near me. That's right, Gloria. Keep it up, keep it up. Cut it out. Both of you. I don't hate him. Hey, Gloria, is he jealous because you live here with Mr. Jonas? No, you're crazy. That's what's good about her, see? She's it, see? The only girl in the world with a figure like a Jonas Penner. That makes me a big shock to know she's my girl. I like it that she's his model. You don't think it's her brain, do you? I'm a big shock. Matty! Before scandal rears its ugly head, may I point out to you, Junior, that Miss Bishop is my housekeeper, not my model. What? Oh, now look, really, she's the only girl in the world with a figure like that. I keep Miss Bishop here solely to scare away other Africans for the job. Models make me ill. I invented that hideous pinup figure solely out of the dregs of my mind. Out of your mind? Well, what's in your mind most of the time, Lieutenant? All right, all right, skip that. Gloria, you thought Matty hated your boss. That's why you knocked out Sergeant Douglas, isn't it? Yes, Mr. Valentine. Because something must have come in the mail this morning addressed to Mr. Jonas. And you figured it was Matty who sent it. That he sent the other one, too. Well, of course. But I couldn't let him get away with it, and I couldn't let anyone find out either. I mean, I didn't know what to do except get the package and then find out. Well, it just had to be Matty. Why? Why were you so sure? Oh, gosh. None of us hate Mr. Jonas, not you or Mr. Bond or even the police. It hasn't been in the newspapers yet, and just any old anonymous wouldn't send a second package to the same man unless he was here to know the first one didn't work. I mean, what did you do? Yeah, yeah, out of the mouths of babes. Me? Oh, I know I should be seen instead of heard, Mr. Valentine, but I... Never mind, kid. Never mind. You're at the head of the class. Now, you and Matty go into the next room, will you? Johnson, have you still got that envelope with the papers and things of Miss Smith? Sure, sure. What are you talking about? I don't know. Maybe it's not important, but motive, maybe. Here, take a look through it, Brooks. See if you find anything. Okay, sir. Mr. Valentine, I've been sitting here quietly because I don't feel so good. But you've been leaving me out. I know what that means. You think I'm the one. Well, if you think I hate Jonas, my own best meal ticket. Skip it, Mr. Bond. I know you don't want him dead. Well, then who does? It must be a crank. That's the first sensible thing you said, Melville. Gloria, let's have the package. What? Come on, come on. The package that came in the mail this morning, the one you took. All right. All right, Mr. Valentine. I'm sorry I took it. Here. Well, let's see that. Yeah, yeah, same printing. To Mr. Wentworth Jonas. Same size package, same paper. More candy, no doubt. I hadn't touched it yet. Oh, no, no. Just smeared the fingerprints, that's all. Well, what happens now, Lieutenant? You take it to the police laboratory? That's right. We run it through an x-ray first, then we take it to the police laboratory. Give me that. I'll show you what all of us take. There's no point in it. No, no, no, no. There, you see? No ordinary bounce. Now, let go of me. Just one more string inside the pool. Hey, it's a firing pin of a grenade. Give me that. Look out. Oh, Mr. Valentine, I guess somebody doesn't like me very well. No. No, Jonas, you're wrong. Sending me hand grenades? Poison? You know, I don't feel very well. What did you find in that? Well, I found, I mean, here, George, income tax return. What? Sure, sure. That might do it, mightn't it? Euro tax return copies. Remember Jonas, taken out of your desk a week ago? George, he said Miss Smith was up here to bring a paycheck a week ago. Hey, hey, what's all this? They were found in Miss Smith's effects, Jonas, so she must have taken them. I don't understand. It's simple, very simple. Nobody hates you. But you could be a relay point for a box of poisoned candy. But the grenade. Forget the grenade, Johnson. Don't you get it? That candy was meant to deliberately murder a woman who couldn't resist it, Miss Smith. She wasn't any innocent bystander. She was it. What? Yes, Mr. Bond. Does stealing the tax files mean your secretary was curious about how much of Jonas' income you were pocketing? You're crazy. Why, would I be sending him you take at a grenade? Would I blow up a gold mine? Sure, why not? You're a cautious guy, Mr. Bond. You even ate a piece of candy yesterday to make that one look good. George, he was the only one there when you told Jonas he couldn't open his own man. Sure, Brooksie. He knew the grenade had come down to headquarters unopened. The X-ray'd be harmless. But why would he send the grenade? Someone somehow might think Miss Smith wasn't just an unfortunate accident, so pound it in. Everybody hates Jonas. Look for a mythical crank. No, no, Mr. Valentine. I'm not a well man. I feel faint. That's right, sure. Go ahead, faint. That's where you made your mistake. Because this morning you walked into this room, you saw what we saw, that the package was missing. And then, well, who else would have fainted so soon? Who else but the guy who knew what was inside that missing package? All right, faint again. See if we care. Valentine, I tell you, the man had fantastic optimism, expecting poor Miss Smith to be the... You mean the candy? Oh, I don't think so. He knew you wouldn't need it. Gloria wouldn't need it. He knew he'd be at your house on the day it arrived, and you'd give it to him if he asked for it for his wife. How did he know Miss Smith would eat it? Well, how do you know a mouse will eat cheese, a cat will eat milk, and... Yes, George. Did you ever actually hear of a cat eating a chocolate cream? No. Hannibal was current Everest. That means he'd eat anything. Are you still here? Haven't you gone home or married a gangster or something? I'm sorry, Mr. Jonas. I'll try to be seen and not heard. But goodbye, Miss Brooks, and goodbye, Mr. Valentine. Brooks, see, that is our cue. I found that gangsters were fickle. What? Valentine, wait. Don't leave me with this, this, this pinup. She's like a nightmare. Come back, haunt me. My own hideous invention turning on me. Look at her. Oh, no, sir. I just decided I love you, that's all. Oh, good night, Mr. Jonas. Valentine, come back. Doesn't anybody hate me? What earthly good is she? Good night, Mr. Jonas. If you're planning a Thanksgiving motor trip, it'll be a better trip all the way if you go on Chevron Supreme Gasoline, for its climate tailored to get the best out of your car wherever you drive and whenever you drive. This scientific tailoring is based on year-round weather reports gathered throughout the West. That's why you can be sure of peak performance from Chevron Supreme any month of the year and in the West's different altitude and temperature zones. Try a tank full of premium quality Chevron Supreme tomorrow. Right away, you'll notice your car's improved performance. You'll notice that it starts faster, has snappier pickup and traffic, and gives extra ping-free power on hills. As a matter of fact, you can't buy a better gasoline for today's high compression engines. Ask for Chevron Supreme Gasoline tomorrow at independent Chevron gas stations and at standard stations, where they say and mean, we take better care of your car. 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. Robert Bailey is starred as George with Frances Robinson as Brooksie. Let George Do It is written by David Victor and Jackson Gillis and directed by Don Clark. Also heard in the cast were Ken Christie as Lieutenant Johnson, Virginia Gregg as Gloria, Stanley Farrar as Vaughn, Ted Osborne as Jonas, Clayton Post as Riga, and Evonne Pady as Miss Smith. The music is composed and presented by Eddie Dunsteader, your announcer, John Heaston. Listen again next week, same time, same station, to Let George Do It. This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System. Music
