Stand by for crime. Hi, Chuck Morgan again. You know in a city the size of Los Angeles where I work as a newscaster and radio station KOP crimes occur so frequently and law enforcement agencies operate with such a maximum amount of efficiency. But unless a crime has an unusual angle or twist to it, it doesn't make particularly good copy from a news point of view. Well, we had one of those unusual angle crimes in LA about a month ago. It wasn't just one crime, it was a whole series of them. And what gave the twist was, oddly enough, lack of clues. No telltale cigarette stubs, no strand of hair or thread from a torn garment, nothing. It was uncanny. I reasoned that if I could uncork the answer to this one I'd really have a story that would make good copy. Well, it was on a Wednesday afternoon that I picked up Carol Curtis, my blonde secretary at a downtown street corner. Carol had been going in for welfare work lately and had been attending a meeting. Hi, Glamourpus, hop in. Hi, Chuggy Boy. Oh, Chuck, I've just had the most wonderful experience. That's all? I've been watching a demonstration by some disabled veterans. You know, boys who are wounded in Korea? Yeah. Glamourpus, if I could crack this mystery crime deal I'd have myself a real story. Sure. Oh, Chuck, you really should have been there. Gosh, it's amazing what they can do. One boy's name is Johnny Owens. He has two metal fingers for hands. He can pick up a pencil and write, shave himself, tie his own tie, light a cigarette. Sounds interesting. You know, the thing that bothers me and the police department is that each one of these crimes is worse than the one preceding it. If the mystery man keeps getting away with them he's going to get cocky and murder someone just to make the cops look like monkeys. And we will be in the soup. Oh, gosh, I hope that doesn't happen. Chuck, do you know what I think would be wonderful? What? That no one's on the air. Let him do his demonstration and you could describe it. Oh, it would give hope to so many other amputees. Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Look, I'm going to drop you off at the studio then go down to headquarters and have a talk with Bill Meggs. Oh, I knew you'd feel that way about it. So I've already asked Johnny to come to your broadcast tonight. You what? Uh-huh. You cute little rascal, you. He's got to keep to the rescue. Five minutes later we reached the studio. I pulled into a loading zone to let Carol out. I saw Pappy Mansfield, owner of KOP, coming out of the building. He looked concerned about something. Hey, Chuck, Chuck, hey, wait a minute. Hi, Pappy, what's wrong? Get out to North Hollywood as fast as you can. There's been a murder. Bill Meggs is positive it's your mystery criminal. Well, it had happened. Murder. The address Pappy gave me was a two-story house on Cling Street. When Carol and I, of course Glamour Puss insisted on coming along, when we got there, it was late in the afternoon. A couple of squad cars were parked out front. That was the usual. The cop on guard at the front door waved us inside. We went up a flight of stairs and found Bill Meggs in a room. He was in the room. He was in the room. He was in the room. He was in the room. He was in the room. He was in the room. He was in the room. We went up a flight of stairs and found Bill Meggs in a room at the end of the hall. Hello, Bill. Hi, Chuck. Hello, Carol. Thought you two would be along. Hi, dear. That finally happened, eh? Yep. This one's as bad as the others. Well, what makes you so sure it's the work of your mystery criminal? Same deal. No clues, nothing to go on. Driving me batty. Fingerprints? None. Look, Chuck, take it easy on your broadcast tonight, will you? Eh, don't worry about that. Who's the girl who wanted to happen? Name's Alice Carter. She's a stenographer for a law firm over on Lancashire. Last night she was out on a date with her boyfriend. Got home late. Must have surprised the guy who murdered her. Well, what makes you think that? All her jewelry's missing. She'd recently inherited quite a lot of the stuff. The way I figured is this. Alice came in quietly so as not to wake the other people in the house. Sneaked upstairs in her stocking feet and noiselessly opened the door. That's the reason she surprised the thief snitching her jewels. And that's the reason he killed her. That makes sense. How about her boyfriend? We've checked him. He's clean. Well, how about the other people in the house here? Place is owned by an old couple named Fairmont. They take in rumors to help the budget. The three other girls besides Alice. None of them heard anything. None of them could think of a reason why anyone would want to murder Alice. Except that she had $10,000 worth of jewelry lying around. Carter, Carter. You know, Bill, I had a night him on one of my broadcasts last week about an Alice Carter inheriting some family jewels. Quite a well-known family in San Francisco. That's right. Kid didn't have sense enough to stash them away in a safe deposit box. Want to see the body? Yeah, yeah. Let's have a look. If you don't mind, I'll stay here. I'll kick that with us. Well, there she is. Good-looking kid. When was the body discovered? Not till around noon. Mrs. Fairmont didn't come in to clean until then. I see. What are those marks on her throat? Could have been made by a pair of hands. Could have been a bell or a cord. Anyway, she was strangled, which explains why she didn't get a chance to scream. You haven't uncovered anything that would give you a lead yet, Bill, huh? Well, nothing except the fact that whoever did this job must have been a fair to Midland's second story man. Trouble is, second story men aren't usually murderers. That's true. One over here. Stick your head out that window and look around. Yeah. See what I mean? Yeah, walnut tree and the vine against the house. Still, the guy would have had it been pretty good to make it. How about footprints in the ground down below? There aren't any. Well, it sounds like the work of our mystery man all right. I suppose you've picked up all your suspects. The last two of them are down at headquarters now. I haven't much hope. Just a bunch of good, decent people like the murdered girl. I feel like I hear you even questioning them. Well, a cop has to do a lot of things he doesn't like. So does a news reporter. Right now, I've got to go back and write a story about this for my seven o'clock broadcast. Well, thanks for giving me the scoop on this, Bill, and don't worry about the way I'll handle it. I wanted to get away from there fast. Some time ago, I'd used an item about a second story man named Benny Murdoch, a two-time loser. Two months ago, which is about the time the mystery crime man had begun his operations, Benny had been released. I knew where he lived and I wanted to talk to him, just in the bare hope there might be some connection. Well, I did my seven o'clock broadcast, gave Carol some work to do, and drove down to the address on Oxford Street where Benny Murdoch lived. It was a single-family frame house, rather the worst for wear. A light showed in the rear window, so I walked around back and knocked on the door. What do you want? I want to talk to Benny, is he in? Who'll I say wants to see him? Chuck Morgan. Chuck? Well, so you're him. I don't know what you mean by that, but I'm Chuck Morgan. Is Benny home? Not to you he ain't. On your way, you lousy squealer. Benny don't want no part of you. Hey, get out of here. I'll call the cops. Why don't you, Bess? That'll save me the trouble. What do you mean by that crack? How do you know my name? Benny mentioned your name several times when I interviewed him a couple of months ago. And you can take that crack any way you want to. Where's Benny? He ain't here. Where is he? None of your business. Okay, Bess, if that's the way you want to play. Hello, Benny. Come on out and be sociable. Sure, Morgan. I was just going to do that anyhow. Sit down, make yourself comfortable. Anything I can do for you? Benny, are you going to let this meathead get away? Take it easy, Bess. That ain't no way to treat a guest. What's on your mind, Mr. Morgan? Just a couple of questions, Benny. Where were you last night when that girl out in North Hollywood was murdered? How do you like that? Who does this guy think he is? Yes, I'll do the talking. You want to know where I was, Morgan? Sure, I'll tell you. I was playing snooker over at Abe Berman's. You can prove that. Come on, wait a minute. Abe Berman's joint was closed up two weeks ago. No kidding. Benny, are you nuts? You got an alibi. Tell the jerk. You let me handle this, Bess. Write anything else you want to know, Morgan. Okay, Benny. So you hate my guts. We'll let it ride that way. However, get this through your head. I'm down here to do you a favor. Nothing else. You're down here to do me a favor, huh? Yeah. Well, there's one for the book. Just tell me about it, Morgan. I'm dying to hear the punchline. Sure, I'll tell you. The guy who murdered that girl was a second story man. He was pretty good at his trade. Well, that's me, all right. There ain't no better second story man in the profession than Benny Murdoch. Benny, are you going screwy or something? Morgan here thinks you murdered the babe. Well, let him. Let him think anything he wants. Got my reputation to think of. Somebody says they're a better second story man than me. They're crazy. I can prove it. Did you prove it last night, Benny? Don't answer him, Benny. Bess, I don't want to have to tell you again to shut your trap. Now, you get over there behind Mr. Morgan and don't speak till you're spoke at. Now, Mr. Morgan, what was this favor you were saying you'd done for me? It isn't much. Sooner or later, Bill Meggs is going to remember that you're the best second story man in the business, and he might come around asking questions. So? So. Unless you've got the answers, you better leave town. You see, Bess, that's Mr. Morgan's favor. He's given me a tip. He's telling me to get out of town unless I got some answers. You're a fool if you listen to him. Well, maybe I am, maybe I ain't. Looks like Mr. Morgan's the right guy after all. He's given me plenty of time to take a powder if I ain't got the answers, huh? That's right, Benny. So I take it on the lam. So then the cops figure I strangled that babe in North Hollywood whether I did or not. So they put out a dragnet and picked me up. Morgan, you got my everlasting gratitude for this favor you're doing me. Okay, Benny. How did you know the girl was strangled? You see, Bess, the guy's clever too. How did I know the girl was strangled, he asks. You don't figure I listen to radio or read the newspapers, I guess. I didn't mention on my broadcast how that girl died. I wouldn't know about that, chum. I didn't listen to your broadcast. I listened to somebody else's. You know, Morgan, I'm kind of glad you dropped it on us tonight. You know why? No, tell me. Well, I never forgot how you helped send me up that last time. I used to wile away the time and stir thinking what I'd do if I ever got things set up just right to pay you back. So you think you got things set up just right now? You put your finger on it, pal. Things are set up just right now. Nobody asked you in here, you forced your way. There ain't no cop and a man's got a right to protect his own home. You all set, Bess? All set, Benny. So now I knew that Benny had been playacting all the time. He was a mystery man in crime and he wanted me to know it because the knowledge wasn't going to do me any good. Bess was behind me. And Benny had suddenly produced an ugly looking automatic. Don't move, Morgan. Stay right where you are. Bess, let him have it. Bess let me have it, all right. Something hit me on the side of the head and comets began zooming around the room. Far, far off I heard Benny yell. Hit him again! This I'm enjoying! So, Bess hit me again and I tumbled to the floor, still clinging to a shred of consciousness. Benny's leering face was above me. I saw his foot swing back and drive forward and then a curtain of darkness closed down, obscuring everything. The hours of time later, I saw stars dancing around in an endless circle and heard distant sounds that were vaguely familiar. I closed my eyes and opened them again. The stars were still there. I realized they were real. I was lying on my back on the cold, cold ground looking up at the firmament. The sounds I'd been hearing were the normal sounds of traffic. I sat up and fell back again, conscious of pains and aches all over my body. After a while I tried it again. This time the world stopped spinning and I managed to get out my lighter and look at my watch. Ten fifteen. I'd been out cold for more than two hours. Benny had had his revenge with interest and now I was going to have mine. I got to my feet and staggered toward a street light. A block away was a drug store. Somehow I made it. The clerk stared at me, pop-eyed, as I swayed across the floor toward a phone booth. I found a dime and dropped it in the slot. Police headquarters. This is Chuck Morgan. I want to speak to Bill Meggs. Just a minute. Meggs speaking. Bill, this is Chuck. I've got your boy. He's Benny Murdock, the second story man. He's practically confessed. Murdock? Yeah. Chuck, you've missed the boat but good. Murdock was picked up last evening on a drunk chart and spent the night in a tank at Lincoln Heights. The way Benny Murdock had played me for a sucker was something I didn't like to think about. Worse, there was nothing I could do about it, which didn't help my mood any. It didn't help it any further when I got back to the office and found Carol waiting there with a visitor. Oh Chuck, I thought you'd never get here. Oh, what happened to your face? Nothing. Look, Glamourpus, I want you to dig up all the information you can. Oh, wait a minute, Chuck. First I want you to meet Johnny Owens. Hi son. Where's Pappy Glamourpus? Hi Mr. Morgan. Say I'm glad to meet you. I never miss one of your broadcasts. They're swell. Thanks. Where's Pappy Glamourpus? Oh, I don't know. Now if you'll stop rummaging through that drawer, I think it might be a good idea if you and Johnny ran through your interview. What? What interview? Will you please pay attention? This is Johnny Owens, the boy I was telling you about. Johnny Owens? Who's Johnny Owens? It's the first time I ever heard his name. What does he do? Golly, I guess I'd better be going. You stay right where you are, Johnny. Oh Chuck, you take this script and read it or I'll quit. Then quit. Oh Chuck, please listen. Johnny's the amputee whose demonstration I saw this afternoon. Amputee? Oh gee, I'm sorry son. Well that's better. Now are you ready for a run through? I can't do it tonight, Glamourpus. It's impossible. There's a girl been murdered out in North Hollywood. If I talked about anything but that, I'd lose every listener I had. You know that. No, I don't know it. What Johnny has to say is more important to the American people than, well, just another murder. Look folks, let me bow out of this one, will you? I didn't mean to cause so much trouble. Mr. Morgan knows what's best for his listeners. I'm sorry, Johnny. Please forgive me. There's nothing to forgive you for. Well, I'll get along. Nice meeting you, Mr. Morgan. I'm sorry son, but some other time, huh? Yeah, sure. Chuck Morgan, I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself. Now look, Glamourpus... Don't speak to me. I despise you. And I'm quitting as of right now. Good night. Well, this was great. This was wonderful. Besides feeling like a sucker, I now felt like a first class heel. Well, I did my 11 o'clock broadcast, and I told my audience absolutely nothing more about the North Hollywood murder than they already knew. Well, after the broadcast, I drove out to Kling Street. With the help of the cop on guard, I examined the walnut tree and the vine outside the murder room window. It netted me nothing except a few marks made by the murderer and his efforts to scale the wall. I got back to my apartment about 1 a.m. and tried to get some sleep, but that didn't work either. Around daylight, I woke up in a cold sweat and phoned Carol. She didn't answer. I got dressed, drove over to her apartment, and spent ten minutes beating on her door. Then I drove out to her mother's place in Encino. She wasn't there either. At exactly noon, I got back to the office. Glamour Puss. Lord Chuck. I've been looking everywhere for you. Where the devil you been? Here. Here? What do you mean here? I couldn't quit. You haven't hired anyone else, have you? Glamour Puss, you're wonderful. Of course I haven't hired anyone else. You know I couldn't get along without you. Oh, but I still think you're a heel and impolite, and I'm ashamed of you. Yes, yes, and I don't blame you. I couldn't sleep last night for thinking about it. Then you will interview Johnny? Sure, I will. Get him down here for a run through this afternoon if you want to. Oh, Chuck, do you mean it? Certainly. Oh, that's wonderful. And next time, then mind me to listen to what my very beautiful secretary has to say. She's smarter than she looks. What? Tell me. Well, at least I felt a little better. I took Glamour Puss to lunch, and afterwards she went out to get Johnny Owens, and I got Bill Meggs on the phone. I gave him my ideas on the subject and then went in to talk to Pappy. At 2.30 p.m. Carol called to say she'd located Johnny, and the two of them would meet me at my office at three. At three straight up, they run. Hello, Chuck. He is Johnny. Hi, Carol. Hello, Johnny. Hi, Mr. Morgan. Pappy, what are you doing here? Chuck asked me to sit in, Carol. Gosh, it's mighty decent of you to do this, Mr. Morgan. Bill, for heaven's sakes, what is this? Did all you people come in for a free demonstration before we went on the air? Ain't a monster that Glamour Puss. Johnny, this is Pappy Mansfield, owner of KOP. Hello, son. Nice meeting you, Mr. Mansfield. And Johnny, this is Bill Meggs. Hi, Mr. Meggs. Hi, Johnny. Johnny, Bill is from police headquarters. Police... I see. Then you know. Yeah, yeah, I'm afraid we do. Chuck, what is it? What's wrong? You can't prove it. You can't prove a thing. I think we can, son. No, there weren't any clues. There were no fingerprints, nothing. No, there weren't any fingerprints. There wasn't even a smudge of a glove. That's... that's where we began thinking of people without fingers. Oh, Chuck. Chuck, it can't be true. I didn't mean to kill her. I didn't. She just stood there staring at my hooks. And there was an awful look of horror on her face. She couldn't move or speak. She just kept staring at my hooks and something snapped inside me. I just had to do it. I just had to show her that I could use those hooks like a normal person uses his hands. That's why you committed the robberies, isn't it, son? You wanted to show people you could do everything that anyone else could do. People always stared at me. I was sure they'd watch my demonstrations and they'd say it was great, but they wouldn't give me a job. They pitied me. They didn't have time or they weren't willing to listen if there was anything else they had to do. Like you, Mr. Morgan, you didn't think it was important yesterday to have me on your broadcast. Well, I showed you. I showed you all. Johnny, you're right. I feel almost as much guilt in this as you do. It isn't you who murdered that girl out in North Hollywood, Johnny, any more than it's I and a lot of other people who couldn't take the time to listen and understand. Now, wait a minute, Chuck. Let's take it easy. Murder's murder. Yeah, yeah, Bill, I know. No. I wish I didn't know. Johnny will have to pay his debt to society, but society's got a debt to pay to guys like Johnny Owens and I'm going to... Johnny, don't do it. Stand back, all of you. I don't want to have to demonstrate on you how a guy with hooks can handle a gun. This is the end of the trail for me. I'm glad it's over. I've been trying to lick this thing ever since they shipped me out of Korea. I guess I chose the wrong way. I know it now, but maybe I'll have helped some other men who might be thinking along the same lines. Now, wait a minute, Johnny. Let me finish. It's people like you, Mr. Morgan, who are in a position to do us a lot of good. Remember that. I'll remember it, son. And Miss Curtis? Well, I've never met a nicer person. I wish they were more like her. She didn't offer sympathy or pity. She recognized that men like me are capable of doing the things any normal person can do that were self-reliant. Too bad I met her too late. You're lucky to have her, Mr. Morgan. Yeah, I know. Johnny, Johnny! It's okay, Miss Curtis. Don't you feel bad about me. I'm doing what I know is right. So I'll let you all take it from here. So long, everyone. Pepe, stop him! Well, Johnny Owens is dead. He blew his brains out with us standing there watching him and not being able to do anything. Maybe it's best, I don't know. Maybe it would have been better if he died in Korea. No, that wouldn't have been any good. Some of those boys had to come back to show us poor, smug dopes how unthinking and self-satisfied we are. It's too bad Alice Carter had to be a guinea pig. But that's life, I guess. Or death. Now, whichever way you figure it, the whole deal was a sorry mess. Pepe Mansfield stuck around my office while I dictated the substance of my seven o'clock broadcast to Carole. There were some questions that Pepe wanted answered. There must have been something besides the fact that there were no fingerprints to cause you to suspect the boy, Chuck. Yeah, Pepe, there was. The marks on Alice Carter's throat to begin with. They might have passed through thumb marks and marks made by a belt or a cord, but there were two sets of them. The fact that meant nothing to me until I saw Johnny's metal fingers. Anything else? Yeah. I went out to the Kling Street house. I looked at the walnut tree and the vine on the side of the building. There were similar marks on both. Who else but a soldier, trained to lick the most hazardous obstacle course, could scale that wall so easily. I see. Ah, well, that's the way things go. Oh, by the way, Chuck. Yeah? In your seven o'clock broadcast, you don't have to mention... Oh, don't worry, Pepe, don't worry. I know how it handled. Good. Well, I'll be getting back to my office. Don't take it too hard. We won't, Pepe. So long, Pepe. He's nice, Chuck. Yeah. Yeah, he's swell. Well, you haven't got much time. It's half to six. Yeah. I think I'll ad lib this one, Glamopus. Just make a few notes. Okay, Chuck. You know, honey, self-respect is more important to a man than anything else. He can lose most anything else, even his arm, and lick the handicap, if he can hold his head up and look at his fellow man on an equal footing. In the case of Johnny Owens, that was almost wholly the responsibility of his fellow man, wasn't it? Yeah, it sure was, Glamopus. How blind can people be? We thought we were doing our duty by watching Johnny do his demonstration and complimenting him, and then pitying him. We forced him to prove he was our equal. Ah, honey, we owe so much to those boys. So big a debt. Do you think we'll ever open our eyes and realize that we've got to help? You're in a position to help, Chuck. More than anyone. That's the last thing Johnny said. Yeah. He said something else, too, Glamopus. Yes, Chuck. Tonight after the broadcast, when I drive you home, and every night, remind me to tell you what a very swell person you are, and I love you very much. Oh, Chuck.
