 And now, tonight's presentation of radio's outstanding theatre of thrills. To a transcribed story of a man who tries to lose himself. So now, starring Parley Bear and Michael M. Barrett, here is tonight's suspense play, A Case of Identity. Harry. Harry, answer me. Well, I don't know it. You don't know what? I don't know if it's such a good idea. It might not work. Are you crazy? You think I'd plan something that wouldn't work? You think that? No. Well, then what is it? Well, how are you so sure the insurance company will do it? You try him, Harry. You try finding one that won't jump to ensure your life for a hundred thousand dollars. That's how it started. She brought it up at dinner, not all at once, but in little pieces, just enough to make me curious. Then later, when she'd done everything she could to put me in a good mood, she told me all of it. She'd gotten the idea weeks ago, but she didn't want to mention it until I started on my vacation, just in case anyone at the office noticed I was unusually nervous. Oh yes, she'd planned it well. She made it sound easy, so I agreed to go along with it. The next morning I applied for a life insurance policy, one that would pay Edna a hundred thousand dollars in the event of my death. A week later, the manager of that insurance company called and asked me to stop by his office. Well, Mr. Burton, it's a pleasure to meet you personally. Thank you. It is an oftenware privilege to issue such a large policy. And it has cleared. Well, hasn't it? Haven't I answered enough questions, Mr. Croyd? Haven't you had enough doctors probing and poking at me? Please, Mr. Burton, it isn't me. It's just that the home office seems to have some doubt about what? The amount of the policy. After all, a hundred thousand dollars to a man of your financial... Well, frankly, Mr. Burton, are you sure that I value my life that much? Well, I do. Is there anything wrong with that? No, certainly not. It's just that... Just what, Mr. Croyd? Well, the premiums will be rather large. I'm prepared to pay them. You read all the clauses thoroughly? I have. Including this paragraph? Mr. Croyd, I have no intention of committing suicide. I wasn't suggesting that you had, Mr. Burton. I was merely endeavoring to acquaint you with the fact that such an eventuality would nullify our contract. Mr. Croyd, if you'd rather not issue the policy, I'm sure there are other companies... Not at all, Mr. Burton. Not at all. It's just that caution is our byword. We find it pays in the long run. Your company pays in the long run, Mr. Croyd. That's why people buy insurance. Yes, well, I believe everything's in order if you'll just sign here. Here you are. All right, Mr. Burton. That's it. Thank you. Take care of yourselves, Mr. Burton. Half an hour after leaving his office, I walked into that park in the center of town. I'd been spending a lot of time there watching, waiting, feeding the pigeons. Then I'd spotted the particular pigeon I'd been waiting for, with the same height, weight, same color eyes. We could have been brothers, except that he was a mousy gray in the color of all stumblebuns. For three days now, I'd been watching him, getting to know his habits. He showed up every morning about 11. First, he'd take a walk, looking for butts, and he'd plop on the grass and sleep. This morning, I wasn't going to let him sleep. Nice day. Ah, smoggy. Yes, it is. It gets your eyes. It sure does. It isn't doing my head much good, neither. Bad night? Huh? We don't have to have a drink on you, do we? No. But, uh, here's a buck. Hey, how come you give me a buck, mister? I've got a job for you. Job? Oh, I'm not looking for no job. I've been sick real bad, sick, oh, you don't know. Well, there's not much work involved. I have a cabin up in the San Bernardino Mountains. It's kind of run down. I need somebody to help me fix it up. Oh, no, no, no, that sounds like heavy work. My doctor said... I'll do the heavy work, okay? It'll mean 50 bucks to you. How about it? 50? Mm-hmm. Half now, and half when the job is finished. Well, as long as there's no heavy work, then when do we go? Right now? Now. Oh, sure, anything wrong? Do you have a business appointment? Well, now you don't have to get sassy. Okay, we go as soon as I get that 25. You are? Oh, uh, just one thing more. What's that? About that drink. I could sure use it. You'll get it. I bought him a 49-cent bottle of wine when he opened before we got to the car. Then he insisted I'll drive him around to a fluff house so he could pay a week's rent. Finally, we turned on to the freeway and headed for home. Why didn't you call? I was busy getting this. policy. Oh, Harry, I was so worried. Never mind that now. I've got him in the car. What? He's in the car. Now? Here? It's all right. The car's in the garage. He's drunk and nobody saw it. So we can't keep him here? I know. You mean do it tonight? Oh, no, Harry, not tonight. Why not? Because it's too soon. They're bound to be suspicious. They'll be just as suspicious, six weeks or six months from now. Maybe more. We do it tonight. They'll believe it. They'll figure nobody in their right minds would pull something the day after the policy was issued. I'll be on the side road. The cut-off I showed you, remember? I remember. I'll be there in the coop at one o'clock. I won't turn on the lights. Okay, I'll find you. Harry? Yeah? Who is he? What's he like? His name's Wallace. He's a bum, a stew bum. We'll be doing him a favor. I backed the car out of the garage, careful that no one saw me. Then we started. My traveling companion wasn't feeling any pain. He polished off his bottle and passed out. No sign of anyone on that mountain highway. No houses, no cars. Not until I reached the 4,000-foot level where there was a little run-down gas station. At 12.30, we reached the cabin. We parked on the slope. Pulled the emergency brake tight. And then reached over into the back seat for the jack can. Because I switched clothes with him. My keys, watch, wallet, everything that matches. Then I saturated the upholstery with gasoline, left the can in the back seat, and got out. Right on the drunk, I fell down as the usual thing. Light me a cigarette. I didn't forget. They'll figure I was sitting there drinking, fell asleep, the brakes let me on the right. They'll ask a lot of questions, but don't move your nerve and don't. I don't know, the motor's missing. Oh, shut up, will ya? Well, Harry, do something. Please do something, if they find us here. It's a gas station a couple of miles from here. I'm gonna try to close down to it. But if somebody sees us... They won't get in the back on the floor. Hurry up. Somebody's gotta be inside. Ten gallons of gas. Close at eleven, pump's locked. Well, then unlock it. Now, wait a minute. I've got to have some gas. Do you understand? Sure, I understand, but I ain't giving you none. Now, you listen to me. You listen, mister, I don't like your order in ways. Coming down here like high and mighty, blowing your horn like you was judgment day. Now, you better get it. What do you mean by that? Just what I said. Keep coasting, brother. Now, wait a minute, I... Look, I'm sorry. I've been on the road all day. I'm yummy. You know how it is. I suppose I really make it worth your while. I'll pay you double for some gas, and how'd that be? You're all like your kind, ain't you? Oh, he's a figure, and everybody's got a price. Well, your money ain't gonna cut no ice with me. Now, you go on before I get my shotgun. Okay, okay. I don't want any trouble, only I... But maybe you'll be interested in twenty dollars. Huh? How much? Twenty dollars. For just ten gallons of gas? That's right. Or can you do want to get home? That's a little regular. I mean, only hurry. I stopped the car a couple of blocks from Skid Row. I got out and disappeared. The torn suit, bloodshot eyes on my beard, put me in that mousy gray color. A few hours later, I was just another stumble bump. Three days went by before they found the body. Naturally, the newspapers played it up big. Real big, with a picture of me and an obituary, half a column long. There was also a picture of Edna, the grief-stricken wife, taken right after she'd identified my body. I turned the page and kept on reading, and then I saw it. Only a small paragraph, but it said my widow would receive her hundred thousand immediately. Hello, Edna. Harry. Did I frighten you? I'm sorry. What are you doing here? How did you get in? You still leave that key under the back door mat. How many times have I told you about that? You shouldn't have come here. Why didn't you call? I did, all day, and no answer. What if they're watching the house? Why should they? The police are satisfied that I'm dead. You've got the insurance. How'd the company take it? I think they were suspicious. They asked me an awful lot of questions. Yeah, they figured, too. But they could hardly go against the peace findings of death by misadventure. I don't want to talk about it anymore, Harry. No, you're right. It's all over. We've got the money now. I've got the money. What? And I'm going to keep it. Edna, you're not making sense. I'm not? Well, let me clarify the situation for you. I've got $100,000 and you're dead. You're very, very dead. Well, you... You had this idea all along. Right from the very beginning, you never had any intention of sharing that money. And you made me kill a man. Stay right where you are, Harry. You take one more step and I'll scream, and you know how loud I can scream. Well, go ahead. Remember, you've lost your identity. I'll say you're a prowler. You broke in. And I'll spill the whole work. Including how you killed a man? No, I don't think you will. Will you, Harry? You're smarter than that. You're smarter than I ever gave you credit for. She'd always been the strongman. The aggressor always gotten her way up to now. That evening, after making sure she'd been picked up by her cousin to go to a movie, she usually did on Wednesdays. I entered the house again. I'd attended a sales convention a month before and while I was away, I'd written her twice. Those letters were still in the desk. As quickly as I could, I lifted the old letters and their envelopes and replaced them with some I'd written that afternoon. And one of them I said, darling, I can't understand why you insist I take out such a large insurance policy. If I didn't know you better, I might think you were planning to murder me. Then I put the angels back in the desk and went into our bedroom. The keys are her coop while I'm the dresser. I put them in my pocket, picked up one of her shoes and started for the mountains. I reached the cabin about midnight, broke the heel from her shoe, tossed it into the ravine. Then I spattered mud on the shoe and put it back in the car. When I reached Pondale, I made a long-distance phone call. Hello. I've been reading about that Burton case in my newspaper. I thought maybe I should tell someone that I was driving over Crestline and the night had happened. Who's calling, please? I saw this car parked by a cabin. There was a man and a woman in it. Who is this? And they seem to be arguing. Arguing? That's right. Remember what time it was? Oh, just after midnight, maybe 12.30. I see. Could I have your name now, please? Well, I'm a family man. I wouldn't like to get involved. But, sir, it's very... It was the next afternoon before I could get back in the house. But when I did, I took that mud-spattered shoe with me. It planted it in her closet. I was about to look in her dresser where she usually kept her cash when I heard Edna come in. Well, yes. Your body, your gamut, Burton, but something has come up. Yes. You stated at the inquest that you were home the night of your husband's death. I was. Can you furnish proof to that effect? I suppose so, but I really don't know how at the moment. I told you everything before. Some additional information has come to our attention. We'd like your help in clearing it up. Well, naturally, I'm always ready to cooperate with the police. Fine. Then you'll answer my questions, won't you? Did anyone see you here that evening? Can you furnish any proof at all? I'm afraid I'll have to have you come along with us, Mr. Burton. But why? I haven't done it. I'm sorry. It's utterly ridiculous. It's necessary, Mrs. Burton. I'll be well, please. Oh, all right. Let's get it over with. Oh, Mr. Burton, before we leave your house, do you recognize this? What is it? The heel of a shoe. We found it at the scene of the accident. Could it possibly have broken off one of yours? No. You're a positive? Quite positive. Very well. I'll leave the door open, please. My partner and the police woman are waiting outside. They have a warrant to search your house. I was looking to search the house while I was there. That was almost funny. I was going to be caught in my own crap. For a moment, I panicked. And I realized the search team hadn't entered the house. As quickly as I could, I moved back to her bedroom. I was at the window, forcing it open, and when I heard them, I was out ducking low running along the side of the house until I reached the street. It wasn't until I reached it, and it was cooped two blocks away, that I remembered I hadn't taken any money from the dresser. I was broke now. Nowhere to go, nowhere to sleep. Except in the car, I... I parked on the boulevard a couple of hours, and watched the people walking by. And later, while driving around, looking for a place to park to the night, a place where I could sleep, I turned on the car radio. The place will be called for the $100,000 insurance case of the late Harry W. Burton. Police have uncovered evidence, which they say links Mrs. Edna Burton to her husband's death. The widow, one confronted with letters written by her husband and a broken shoe identified as hers turned up in a recent search, became hysterical, heard a lot of fantastic story about her husband still being alive. Authorities discrediting the rantings of the troubled woman have requested her transfer to the psychiatric division of the General Hospital for examination. You will recall her husband's car crashed into a ruby near the Angeles-Pressed Highway. Police at the time thought the death of Mr. Burton was accidental. Meanwhile, police have issued an awful report of the car allegedly used in the murder plot. The car is described as a black Ford coupe. License number JGC150. It's police. I've got to get rid of this car. I've got to before it's spotted. But while I sleep, no money out. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. I've got a key to a hotel room. Sure. Wallace's room and he paid a week's rent in advance. I've got a chance. I have much choice. I live here. You see, here's the key. Number 47. What's your name? Wallace. Don't you remember? No, I'm just a relief clerk. Oh. Well, I've been sick a few days. I haven't been in. So if I owe you any money, I'll pay it tomorrow. You don't owe nothing. I don't? No. Good night. What is this? I'm in all the way. Good for you, Wallace. My name's Johnson Homicide. This is my partner, Sergeant Barton. He's clean. Well, what do you want with me? We'll ask the questions, Wallace. Last Tuesday, you showed up here with enough money to pay your rent a month in advance. A month? Where'd you get it? Don't tell us you did some honest work, Wallace. You got a fine record. Don't ruin it by admitting you actually did some work. But I did. It was only $25. Can't a man make a little money? Sure, sure he can. Only this happened last Tuesday. And last Tuesday afternoon, you came bouncing in bragging about how lucky you were. You paid a month's rent in advance and said there'd be plenty more where that came from. Your drinking buddies told some of our boys about it. They were worried when you didn't come back. Thought maybe something could happen to you on that job up in Crestland. You did this work up in Crestland last Tuesday night, didn't you? No, no. No, I didn't. Try again, Wallace. You can try all night. You're not going to beat this one. We got a description from a gas station attendant up there. It fits you to a T. But you've got the wrong man. Believe me. Oh, oh, sure, Wallace. Well, he's not satisfied, Johnny. Give him some more. Okay. Woman you don't know, a woman called Edna Burton. Today, just before she blew her stack, she was yelling your name like crazy. All about a flaming rocket or was it a fireball? Whatever it was, you were the star of it, Wallace. But I am not Wallace. I'm Burton Asker, not Asker. You can't. Please. Not till she's allowed to have visitors at the state hospital. Okay. Let's go, buddy. No, wait. Wait, wait, please. I'll tell you the truth. You're arresting me for my own murder. I'm Burton. That's so. But you're Burton. Where's Wallace? Where's... Where's... He thinks it's funny, Johnny. Yeah. Wine sure does some crazy things to him. It is funny. It's funny. Don't you see? It doesn't matter whether it's Burton and Wallace. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all.