 Welcome Weirdos, I'm Darren Marlar and this is Retro Radio Sunday on Weird Darkness. Each week I bring you a show from the golden age of radio, but still in the genre of Weird Darkness. I'll have stories of the macabre and horror, mysteries and crime, and even some dark science fiction. If you're new here, welcome to the show and be sure to subscribe or follow the podcast so you don't miss future episodes. And if you're already a member of this Weirdo family, please take a moment and invite someone else to listen in with you. Spreading the word about the show helps it to grow. If you're here because you're already a fan of nostalgic audio and print, you'll want to email WeirdDarkness at RadioArchives.com. When you do that, you'll get an instant reply with links to download full-length pulp audiobooks, pulp e-books and old-time radio shows for free. That email address again is WeirdDarkness at RadioArchives.com. Coming up it's an episode from Murder by Experts. Murder by Experts brought weekly episodes of crime and mystery that quickly birthed a loyal following of listeners and swiftly gained the respect and approval from the radio world at large. This show boasted the genius of Robert Arthur and David Cogan of the mysterious traveler fame along with famous mystery writers like John Dixon Carr and Brett Halliday who hosted the program. The program features stories by well-known writers at the time and chosen by guest experts like Craig Rice, Bruno Fisher, Lawrence Blockman and other household detective fiction names. This show was such an immediate favorite that it won the prestigious Edgar Award for the best radio drama in 1950 after being on the air for only six months. This was no surprise given the fact that the Arthur and Cogan collaboration had already achieved much success with other radio shows such as the Mysterious Traveler which had been previously nominated in 1949 and also writing episodes of The Sealed Book. The show only ran for two seasons though from June 1949 through December 1951 but it brought a total of 130 episodes. The episode we're about to listen to, Summer Heat, was broadcast June 13, 1949. A newly graduated lawyer awakens with a dead body in bed and has a very difficult time getting rid of that body. Now, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights and come with me into the weird darkness. Murder by Experts. The mutual broadcasting system presents Murder by Experts. With your host and narrator, Mr. John Dixon Carr, world-famous mystery novelist and author of the recently published bestseller The Life of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. This is John Dixon Carr. Each evening at this time, Murder by Experts brings you a story of crime and mystery which has been chosen for your approval by one of the world's leading detective writers. Those experts who are themselves masters of the art of murder and can hold density at its highest. Tonight's guest expert is Mr. Hugh Pentecost, author of many memorable thrillers who has selected a story by a young newcomer you'll do well to watch, Andrew Evans. Be very careful as you listen, for as Mr. Pentecost says to this thriller, the story has not only a twist but an unforeseen double twist which takes one completely by surprise. And now we present Summer Heat. Look now at the old Elms, the ivy-covered buildings on the campus of a small Midwestern university. It's a fine June afternoon when you hear laughter and the greetings of the reunion of the class of 36. Twelve years have passed but none of the members of the class seems much older to each other. There's the dark-haired Paul Baxter wandering rather strangely. There are two of his old friends, prosperous now, judged by their clothes and boisterous in greeting. Paul! Paul Baxter! You old rascal! It's sure good to see you again. Hello, Steve. Bert, this is a surprise. Why don't you ever write to us, Paul? You had our addresses. Why, sure. That's no way to treat old classmates. Just think. Twelve years. Oh, they sure have gone fast. Too fast to suit me. Say, Paul, you've turned awful gray for only 33. Well, he always did take things too seriously. I suppose by now, Paul, you're one of the biggest lawyers in the state. How's Marsha? Yeah, you were all set to marry her after graduation, remember? Yes, and you were going to become her father's junior law partner. Oh, you sure had a sweet set up there. Well, things worked out a little differently. You see, that party we had graduation night. Do you remember it? Remember it? How could we forget it? Oh, that was a real blowout. Why were you tight, Paul? You know, that party sort of changed my whole life. Change your life? Well, how? Well, I don't remember much about the party itself. I guess I had too many drinks. In fact, I don't remember anything until I woke up the next morning. I could hear old Trinity ringing. I awoke to find myself on the couch in my living room. It was noon. The room was hot, stiflingly hot. I remembered I had a date with Marsha and her father at one o'clock. I got to my feet. My head ached. There were heat waves before my eyes. Feeling sick, I staggered toward my bedroom and then I saw him. A man asleep on my bed, his back to me. For a moment I stood there trying to remember if someone had come home from the party with me. But the night before I was a total blank. I crossed the bed, bent over, shook his shoulder. Hey, fella. Hey, it's noon. Wake up. Come on, wake up. As I shook him, he had flopped over and looked up at me with staring eyes. He was dead and there was a knife in his chest. My hunting knife. I stood stunned, staring down at the body on my bed. The dead man was another stranger to me. He was neatly dressed in old clothes. And my knife. My knife was in his heart. I killed him. I couldn't remember when or how or why, but I'd killed him. Frantically, I tried to remember what had happened. Was he a panhandler? Someone I'd met on the street and drunkenly brought home with me? I didn't know. I couldn't remember. So I stood there trying to get a grip on myself. I suddenly realized there was someone at the door. Instinctively, I walked into the living room and towards the door. Just as I was about to open it, I realized the danger of letting anyone into the apartment. I put my ear against the door and listened. I heard voices. Yours, Steve. And yours, Bert. Hey Paul, open up. We want to say goodbye. Come on, Paul. Wake up, will you? We're leaving for California in 15 minutes. I guess old Paul isn't in. I wonder how he felt when he woke up. Boy, what a head he must have had. Still, I sure hate to leave without saying goodbye. Well, he has our California address. He can write to us. Come on, or we'll miss that train. And they were both gone. And I dared to breathe again. I tried to think calmly. Figure out what to do. I knew I should call the police, but they, they might charge me with murder. In what defense could I offer? I thought of Margea. The slightest scandal and everything would be off our marriage, my job, my future. I couldn't call the police. I couldn't call them and sacrifice everything I'd worked for. Somehow I had to get the body out of my apartment, get rid of it before it was found. Then it came to me. My car was in the basement, garage. The dumbwaiter in the kitchen led down to the basement. I could put the dead man in the dumbwaiter, lower him to the basement, get him in my car, and then... Mr Paul! It was Jenny, the cleaning woman. She'd let herself in with a key. I hurried into the living room, closing the bedroom door behind me. Oh, there you are. A fine time for a rising young lawyer to be getting up. Oh, hello Jenny. I, I guess I overslept. I was at a party last night. A party was it? Everyone on the campus is talking about it and the complaints. Well, now step aside and let me into that bedroom. I gotta start cleaning. Jenny, can't you come back later and do the place? No, I can't. I'll get out of my way. Jenny, wait! I don't want you to clean up yet. What's wrong? Why, why are you blocking the door like that? Well, the truth of the matter is one of the boys had a bit too much last night and he's in my bedroom sleeping it off. Oh, well, get him out of there. Take him to a Turkish bath. Turkish bath. Oh, yes, that's, that's a good idea. Look, Jenny, just give me half an hour to get him dressed and out of here. Then you can come back and clean up. For half an hour or nothing, I'll give you exactly five minutes. All right, Jenny. I'll have him out of here by then. You'd better. She was gone and I had five minutes, just five minutes. I went into the bedroom and quickly went through the dead man's pockets. They were empty. There was no identification in them. The thin, pinched face told me he was a nobody, a derelict, someone who might never be missed. As I was about to lift him off the bed, the phone rang. The shrew ring filled the room. Hello? Hello, darling. Marcy. How was your stag party last night? Did you miss me? Miss you? You sound as though you have a dreadful hangover. Hangover? Oh, yes. Oh, excuse me a minute, Marcia. There's someone at the door. Yes? Paul. Jenny. So get your friend out of there. Oh, yes, Jenny, yes. Just give me another minute enough. We'll be out of here. Marcia, I can't talk to you any longer. I'm in a hurry. Then you haven't forgotten your appointment with Father and myself at one o'clock. No, no, no. I may be a little late, but I'll be there. Paul, you mustn't be late. I've told you over and over what a stickler father is for punctuality. He can't stand people who are late for appointments. Well, you'll recall how furious he was when you didn't shop. I know, Marcia, but I... You have 45 minutes to shave, shower, and dress. That's plenty of time. And, Paul, wear your gray flannel suit with a blue knitted tie and be sure you're there. Yes, Marcia, yes, but I've got to hang up. Jenny will be coming back any minute that I... Well, what if she is? Now, darling, you haven't forgotten what we discussed yesterday afternoon. Yesterday afternoon? Yes. No, I know Father's broskin inclined to bully people, but don't let it upset you. After all, it's our future. He's... Marcia, I can't talk any longer. I've got to hang up. Jenny will be back. I've only seconds left. What in the world are you talking about? Now, when Father asks... Marcia, I've got to hang up. I've got to. Goodbye. I hung up the phone and wiped the sweat running down my face. It took only a moment to lift him off the bed, carry him into the kitchen, pull the dumbwaiter up and put his body into it. I closed the door to the dumbwaiter, ran out of the apartment and started down the stairs to the basement. I got down to the basement to find Ben, the janitor, leisurely pulling on the dumbwaiter rope. Ben! Oh, Ben! Oh, wow, Paul. Now, with your car, you're after it's there by the door all washed like, yeah. Thanks, but Ben, stop a minute. I want you to do something for me. Sure, Paul. Just as soon as I've emptied this dumbwaiter... Will you stop blowing that dumbwaiter? Stop it! Here! Hey, what's wrong with you? You're acting mighty strange. Hey, I'm sorry. I... I shot it like that. Ben, it's just that... there's a package up in my apartment that I'd like you to mail right away. There's a dollar in it for you. All right, but there ain't no need to rush. Today's Sunday, the post office is closed. Closed? Sure. Say, what's the matter with you anyway? Must be the heat. Ah, something awful heavy on his stomach. Ben, wait a minute. There's something else. Ah, is that... Stop a minute, will you? How can I talk to you about your loitering that dumbwaiter? Well, go ahead. I can hear everything you're saying. Let go of that rope! Let go of your head! Hey! You going crazy or something? I'm here for mine to call a super and tell him why... No, no, no, no. Don't do that. I... I... Hey. Ben, up in my apartment, there's a bottle. A bottle? Yes, I brought it home last night. It's... it's half full. I wanted you to have it for cleaning the car. Oh, thanks. I sure appreciate that, Paola. I'll go up and get it as soon as I've emptied this dumbwaiter. It's almost down now. But Ben, Jenny just went in to clean. You know how she feels about drinking? Jenny, jumping grasshoppers. Why didn't you say so? That woman will pour it all down the drain if I don't get there first. As soon as Ben disappeared up the stairs, I pulled the dumbwaiter the rest of the way down, opened the door, and he fell into my arms. Slinging the body over my shoulder, I staggered with it to my car and swiftly dropped him on the floor in the back. It was an old touring car. The top was long since gone. To hide the body from view, I covered it with an old blanket. A moment later, I started the motor and rolled smoothly out of the basement and into the driveway. As I did, I heard Ben shouting to me from my window. Oh, I pull away, man. I got shot. I pretended not to hear Ben calling. Instead, I stepped on a gas. I was almost proud of myself as I drove past the campus. I was in trouble, but I was thinking fast. As a good lawyer should. I'd already decided I'd have to get rid of him by dumping him into the river. As I came to Main Street, driving neither too fast nor too slow, I turned left toward the river. There was very little traffic, and I was just about to speed up. When behind me, I heard a whistle blowing. It was Dugan, the town's only traffic cop, and he was blowing for me to stop. There was nothing to do but pull over to the curb. As Dugan hurried up to me, I realized I'd driven through a red light. Hello, Dugan. Never mind that hello, Dugan stuff. What's the matter? Are you colorblind? I'm sorry, Dugan. I just didn't notice the light. You just didn't notice the light. That's fine. I think you and me had better take a ride over to Justice Miller. Oh, look, don't run me in, Dugan. It won't happen again. That's what all you college cut-ups say. Next thing you know, you'll be telling me... What do you got there in the back? Underneath that blanket? Under the blanket? You heard me. What's under it? Well, that's Roy Hamilton, one of my classmates. Yeah, well, what's he lying on the floor under a blanket on a hot day like this for? Last night, our farewell shindig Roy had a few too many. He's still out. I'm taking him home. Where does he live? At Mrs. Randolph's boarding house. What are you handing me? That's in the other direction. Yes, yes, I know. But first, I'm taking him to the Turkish bath on Elm Street. Yeah, well, by the time you get him there, the poor guy will be dead. Ain't you got no sense? What do you mean? Look at the way you got the blanket over his head and in his head, too. I better pull the blanket off his face so he can breathe. No, no. I mean, I covered his face on purpose. Suppose Dean Richards or somebody saw Roy like this. Yeah, yeah, that's right. Just the same, I bet I've got to... I'll be right with you, Jensen. Where were we backstabbed? Oh, yeah, the guy in the back. He'll smother the death if we don't pull the... I'm coming, I'm coming. I won't run you in this time, Baxter, but from now on, stay awake when you're driving. I will, Dugan. And for Pete's sake, pull the blanket off that guy's head. Take it easy, Jensen. I'm coming. As I stepped on the gas, I muttered a prayer of thanks for old Johnson, the janitor of the medical school building, who had called Dugan just as he was reaching for the blanket that covered my passenger. It was a few minutes after one as I drove out of town. I could picture Marcia's father filming in my lateness. The sun was scorching in my open cars as I drove along River Road, looking for a place to hide the body. I needed one where there were trees to hide me. The hours that followed were like a nightmare. The heat was stifling and I could feel my hand shaking on the wheel from nervous tension. I drove and drove and drove, looking for a place to get rid of the body. But the whole countryside seemed to be swarming with people, families, picnicking, Boy Scouts camping, kids in swimming, couples in parked cars. No matter where I turned, there was always someone in sight. Little spots danced before my eyes. Waves of faintness swept over me. My hand began to ache in my head, too. Unbearably, it was already long after three. I was late for my date with Marcia and her father. That didn't matter. Nothing mattered but to get rid of the body in the back of the car. I had to get rid of it. I had to. I drove, mile after mile, turning from one road to another, searching endlessly for a safe place to stop. Then I realized I was running out of gas. I saw a gas station ahead and I decided to stop there. It was a risk, but I had to take it. Okay, mister. That's five gallons. Want me to check your oil? No, no. Thanks. How much? It's $1.15. Boy, it's hot, isn't it? Yes, it. Hot all right. Here you are. That's $1.15 out of five. Now get your change. Hey, this rear tire looks a little flat. That's all right. You want me to check it? It won't take but a minute. It's all right, I'll tell you. Okay, mister, just you say. Your rear door is open. I better shut that for you. Leave that door alone. Ah, but you don't want to drive along with your rear door open. That's funny. There's something in the car jamming it. I better have a... Leave that door alone and get my change. But you... All right, mister. Just as you say. I'll get your change. He hurried into the station. I looked in the back of the car and saw what had kept the door from closing. It was a hand. His hand sticking out from under the blanket. The attendant had seen it. He would be phoning the police. I drove faster and faster. The police would be on the lookout for me now. My whole future depended on what I did in the next few minutes. And then it came to me. And then it came to me. In one brief moment it came to me. The perfect way to get rid of the body. It was so simple, so perfect that I laughed aloud with relief. A half hour later, I was parked in an alley behind one of the university buildings. It was Sunday and the place was deserted. Despite my fatigue and aching head, it took me but a moment to carry the body into the basement of the medical building and down the corridor to the basement room where the bodies for the dissecting classes were kept. Where does a wise man hide a leaf in a forest? Where does a wise man hide a body in the dissecting room? The room was big and cool and dimly lit. The far end was a long metal tank. I reached the tank and lowered him to the stone floor beside it. I had only to open the tank, slip him inside and leave. I reached for the lid of the preserving tank and was about to open it when I heard a voice. It was Johnson the janitor. I quickly dropped behind the tank and waited, holding my breath. I heard you. Stop hiding and come out. I know you're here. I just saw your car through the window. You better come out if you know what's good for you. It seemed my car. He knew I was in the room, but if I kept my head, there was a chance, just a chance. All right, Johnson. Here I am. Boxster, eh? So it's you, isn't it? You're the one... Johnson, wait a minute. Let me explain. Explain, eh? After last night, I'm not listening to any fancy stories. I'm the one who gets blamed when... What's that on the floor behind you there? On the floor? What? I'm nothing, Johnson. Do you think I'm blind or something? Step aside and let me see what... Boy, it's your body. Yes, it's a body. So that's it. I thought you were trying to steal one. Instead, you were bringing it. Yes, I was bringing it. And just what were you going to do with that gentleman on the floor? Put him back in the tank with the rest? Yes, that's right. I thought he might not be noticed. As if I wouldn't have known. Well, go on. Call the cops. Let's get it over with. All right, Max, of course, I don't have to call the cops. Nobody knows about this, but you and me... What? What do you mean? Well, I was going to make a report, but this way, there's no harm done. So I might be able to overlook the whole thing if I was persuading you. Pursuaded, properly? You might overlook it? That's right. You just leave this fellow to me and there's no fuss because nobody's the wiser. You do that? You keep your mouth shut? I guess I could be persuaded to. How much? Well, suppose we say fifty dollars. Fifty dollars? That isn't much, considering what would happen if I reported you. Oh, no, no, it isn't. Fifty dollars. That's very cheap to help me cover up a murder. Murder? Ah, more of your jokes. I'm not talking about murder. I'm talking about putting number 37 here back in his proper place. Number 37? Yes, 37. He just came in yesterday from the county poor farm and last night he disappeared, stolen by you and your drunken friends and dressed up for a joke. Well, I don't like jokes like that. I drove downtown a while back to tell Doug and the constable about it, but well, I didn't tell him anything. It would mean trouble for me for being asleep on the job. Number 37? He was stolen from me last night. That's what I said. As long as you've brought him back, there's no harm done. That's why I'm willing to keep it quiet. Then, then I didn't kill him. It was just a joke somebody played on me. Just a practical joke. Here, here, here, what's wrong with you? It's a joke. It's a very good joke on me. This whole afternoon driving, driving in the heat trying to get rid of him was just a joke. A joke! But goodness sake, she's fainted. That's the story of what happened the day after my graduation party 12 years ago. When I came to, I was in the college hospital. I'd been unconscious a week. They, they said it was just a slight breakdown brought on by sunstroke. I was all right after a while, but somehow I wasn't interested in law anymore. Marcia and I didn't get married and I didn't become her father's junior law partner. Good lord, Paul. We never knew any of us. Gosh, Paul, I can't tell you how sorry I am. We never dreamed our gag would turn out like that. Your... Your gag? Are you sure? See, after the party broke up that night, we were feeling pretty high and... Well, it was a crazy idea, but we thought it would be funny to steal a cadaver from the medical college and leave it in your room with, with your knife in it. And it was you? The two of you? Well, yes, Paul. Gosh, I feel terrible about this, but... Well, that day we left, we came up to your apartment to tell you about a little joke. Only you weren't in. We had to rush for a train, but we formed from the station. Then the janitor answered and we told him to explain about the cadaver. I, I heard him calling, but I, I didn't stop. Paul, will you ever be able to forgive us for what happened? Forgive you. Forgive you. No. No, I'm going to kill you. No, I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you, do you hear? Kill you! Hey, wait a minute! No! Get away from me! I... Bert, Bert, help me! Paul! Paul, let him go! He's choking me! Help me! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! Paul, I'll kill you! Here he is, man. All right. Grab him! Quick, grab him! Get him out! Get him back to the hospital! I'll kill you! Take him out! I'll kill you! Now, are you hurt, mister? No, no, I... But you came just in time. He was trying to kill me. Why? He sure was. He just went crazy. Well, I'm sure sorry this happened. You see, he slipped away from the hospital this afternoon. We figured he'd head this way. The hospital? Yes. Poor fellow had a bad breakdown just after he graduated 12 years ago. He's been locked up ever since. Locked up? Yeah. He's always been perfectly harmless, though. He just went around all the time looking for a place to hide something. This is the first time he ever got violent. I can't figure out what came over him. And so the curtain falls on summer heat, which was chosen by guest expert Hugh Pentecost, whose latest thriller, Where the Snow Was Red, will be published next month. We welcome your comments on tonight's story. All letters should be addressed to Murder by Experts, Care of Mutual Broadcasting System, New York 18, New York. Next week at this time, Murder by Experts brings you the story of a woman who pitted her wits against death. A story selected for your approval by Brett Halliday, creator of the rough, tough detective known as Mike Shane. Until then, this is your host, John Dixon Carr, saying good night. In our cast were Lawson Surbey, Bryna Rayburn, Ian Martin, Cameron Andrews, Bill Zuckert, and Frank Barons. Summer heat by Andrew Evans was adapted for radio by Robert A. Arthur and David Cogan. Original music was composed by Richard LePage. The orchestra was conducted by Emerson Buckley. Murder by Experts is produced and directed by Robert A. Arthur and David Cogan. All characters in this story were fictitious, and any resemblance to the names of actual persons was purely coincidental. Phil Tarkin speaking. This is the world's largest network serving more than 500 radio stations, the Mutual Broadcasting System. This is someone you know who also loves old-time radio and pulp audio. If you want to hear even more, drop an email to weirddarknessatradiorchives.com and get an instant reply with links to download full-length pulp audiobooks, pulp e-books, and old-time radio shows absolutely free. That's weirddarknessatradiorchives.com. Weird Darkness is a production and trademark of Marlar House Productions. This is Weird Darkness 2023. I'm Darren Marlar, and I'll see you next week for Weird Darkness' Retro Radio Sunday.