 Mystery House, that strange publishing firm owned by Dan and Barbara Glenn, where each new novel is acted out by the Mystery House staff before it is accepted for publication. Mystery House. We know Mystery House has never published a baseball novel, Barbie. If we can catch the baseball fans and the mystery fans, we really have something. Well, this baseball story we're trying out tonight has some good mystery elements to it, and also an exciting baseball game. Yeah, does somebody kill the umpire? I'm not saying who gets killed. You'll see. So I wonder why it is everybody at a ball game always yells kill the umpire. Oh, that's easy, Tom, because his word is law. You have to take his decisions whether you like him or not. Of course, Mr. Glenn, that's one of the few places in America where you are not allowed to make your own decisions. Now, with us, it's a question of stating your case simply and briefly. The rest is up to our listeners. For example. Glacious, everybody. I set the scene. Will you, Tom? Bases. Loaded. Tonight's story opens in the locker room of a baseball club. It's mid-morning. Woody Sander's star pitcher is rubbing his arm as another member of the team walks in. Hi, Woody. Oh, hi, Gabe. Just dropped in to limber up the arm a little this morning. I'm going to pitch this game, but it's only to give that lousy garsh and a load of what I think of him. Well, the old suit bones kind of tie it up. Now, go easy on the workout, Woody. You want to watch yourself. Oh, for Pete's sake, Gabe, all I'm going to do is throw a few balls to get rid of the jitters. Sure, sure. If we win, it moves us into first place. Garcin's got a lot of dough up. We don't win. Yeah, must have a lot of dough up. Offered me 10 Gs. Ten thousand bucks to toss a game away. Has Garcin seen you again? Yeah, just before I came in. Ten grand. Boy, I could use that kind of dough. You mean you think I should have took it? To keep on trying to get Jenny to marry your kid, you'll need that kind of dough. I don't take that kind of chances for anybody, not even Jenny. Jenny's got what the sports writers call the money touch. Still sore about me beating your time, Gabe? Me? He's all yours, son, and I wish you luck. Oh, what do you want, Artie? Look what crept in, Woody, our number one fan. Greeting, boys. I just bought by to boost you morel. You feeling good, Woody? Think you can set him down this afternoon? Listen, punk, even a bug like you don't rate the locker room. This is private. Beat it. Oh, yeah? The sweet wouldn't like it if I was to tell him you bounced me from here. So the sweet ain't here. And we're telling you to scram. What do you mean he ain't here? Well, I just left him here. He sent me out to see a guy for him. You heard what Gabe said, didn't you? The sweet ain't here. Well, he's got to be here. He told me to meet him here. Yeah, I bet. Well, he had me take a message to a guy. You started to say Garcin, Artie. What was the message? Um, nothing. Did it have anything to do with the game, Artie? Anything like making a deal to lose? The sweet? Say, listen, all I know is I was supposed to tell Garcin to meet the sweet here, only... only what? I couldn't find Garcin. Woody, you don't suppose the sweet's throwing this ballgame, do you? Making a deal with Garcin. He's probably turned him over to the commissioner. The sweet's the best manager in baseball. Him throw a game? Don't make me laugh. That's telling him, Woody. How long you been hanging around here, Artie? Only a minute, and the sweet was here. I was standing over by his locker talking to him, and he sent me to find Garcin. Well, I tried to find him, but I couldn't find the guy, so I came back like the sweet said to. Well, he ain't here. If he was his locker, it'd be open, wouldn't it? Well, maybe he's out in a diamond figure in strategy or something. Maybe you ought to open his locker and see if the street clothes are in it. How do we open it? We don't know the combination. I know it. You know the combination? How come? Oh, he gave it to me so I could get stuff for him. You're practically running the team, aren't you? Ah, quit that stuff. I know the combination I'll show you, see? Let's see now, 7, 14, 3. You're bluffing it. It won't come open. Oh, no. See? No, it's a sweet. Debt. Yeah. With a hole in his head. Jenny, lay off. There's no use arguing. I'm going to pitch my darners this afternoon. I might lose, but it won't be because I was laying down. Sure. Go right ahead. Be a dumb ball player all your life. What's going to be left of it after Garson gets through with you? Who are you trying to scare? Don't be so dumb, Woody. Can't you see? Garson means business. He's going to win his bets if he has to kill people to do it. You think Garson killed him, huh? Probably not Garson. Some of the boys from his gambling syndicate more than likely. And if you pitch this afternoon without being nice, they'll try to get you. Oh, nuts. This is a ball game you're talking about. Jenny in the ballpark with maybe 30,000 people around. You think anybody would try murder in front of that many people? OK. Go ahead. You're a smart guy. You know all the answers. I've been knocked out of the box, baby, but nobody ever scared me out. I'm not scaring you. I'm telling you. You could be a dead ball player. Cut it out. I'm pitching. So when? I ought to slap your face for that, Jenny. I never pitched any other way. Even if it means you and I are through? What are you talking about? You heard me. You wouldn't walk out on me just because I stayed honest. You're walking out on me? Jenny, get a hold of yourself just because the Swede got killed. Sure, he got killed. And the police ought to know right now that Garson's boys did it. But they won't catch him because he's too smart. Too smart for the police and too smart for a dumb ball player. I'm no crook. If the Swede hasn't reported Garson to the commission, I'm going to. Sure. Be big and brave. And you know what you'll get for it, don't you? A pat on the back and a slug in the head. Oh, Garson ain't concentrating on me. Wake up, stupid. You're the guy with the stuff, the fireball artist, the toughest pitcher on the team. If he can get rid of you, the ball game's in the bag. You think one pitcher can win a ball game single-handed? Jenny, you're funny. Go ahead and laugh then while you can. Blake, I know you're the police, but we've got a ball game to play. I ought to be out there right now warming up. Yeah, well, maybe I'll warm you up a little, Woody. Swede Benson was murdered. You and Gabe were the only people around the locker room. The only ones you know, you mean. You think we'd have been there if we'd have killed the Swede? Get Garson. He's the murderer. I told you he tried to bribe me to lose the game so he could click a lot of dough. What do you need? Maybe Blake's afraid of Garson, Woody. Maybe Garson's got too much pull. Well, you... look, we're watching Garson. Don't worry about that. And Woody, your story about Garson sounds good. You had a motive of your own. It'd make it pretty nice cover-up. Listen, Blake, there was no reason in the world why I should murder Swede Benson. He was a good manager, and he treated me okay. You're ambitious, aren't you, Woody? You'd like to be manager of the club yourself, wouldn't you? Why, you listen up. Yeah, you'll behave yourself. I can throw you into jail, chum, anytime I want to. On suspicion of murder. Why don't you go ahead and do it? That'd leave your friend Garson a better chance of collecting these bets. Woody, don't get the guy sore. You two and this nut, Artie, were in their locker room when Swede Benson's body was found. Artie showed up and found you two together. Woody, you'd have been there alone when Gabe showed up, right? Yeah, but... Right. The coroner says Swede has been dead less than an hour when the body was found. They're 45 to 50 minutes. You and Gabe were talking together about a half an hour, and leaves 10 to 15 minutes of time for you to kill Swede and stuff his body into the locker. Yeah? Listen, I'd got there just a minute before Gabe. And you can prove it, I suppose. Where were you before? I'd been to see Jenny. Blake, you're all wrong. Woody couldn't have... If he didn't kill the Swede, he ought to be able to prove it then. And he's the one suspect who was on the spot at the time of the murder. What about that guy, Artie? He was running in and out of the locker room all the time. Oh, no, Woody, that's a little far-fetched. No motive. Or maybe you can give me one. Me? Look, all I know is I didn't do it. Sure, sure. You know something, Woody? I've had that answer before from murderers? Woody's no killer. In my business, Gabe, anybody's a murderer until you learn different. Huh, nice trustin' guy. But say, we gotta get out to the ballpark. Woody's gotta warm up. Okay, boys, okay. Play a nice game. But don't try any steals. You'll be washed. Kill anybody's ballgame. Excitement. But who killed Swede Benson and Woody Sanders? Who won that ballgame? Well, the second active base is loaded should solve it. Meanwhile, act two of bases loaded. We go back to the locker room of the ballclub, which has lost its manager and its number-one pitcher through murder. Ah, the coroner says the bullet entered Woody's body at a point between his right shoulder, blade and his spine. Came out just below his heart. That means that it had to be somebody way up in the stands. Yeah, on the second deck. Yeah, maybe. There's the elevated tracks right alongside the park too, Gabe. Only 20 feet outside the park and about six feet above the top of the stands. Somebody with a rifle. A guy with a rifle that looked good on the elevated tracks, wouldn't he? I know it's nuts, but it's all we've got. It makes you look like Garson, doesn't it? Garson was sitting next to me at the game, and not by accident either. Oh, I don't mean Garson himself. He wouldn't take that kind of a chance. But one of his boys. Yeah, but who and why? Why? To win his dough. But he didn't win it. Jones, the relief pitcher, probably did better than Woody could have. He saved the game. There ought to be some other motive like jealousy or... Or what? Well, that guy, Artie, was wandering around the locker room. Wasn't he before the game? He had the combination of Sweet Benson's locker too. What did his angle be? Well, with a punk like that, it could be anything. Robbery. Artie doesn't have a job. He likes flashy clothes. Sweet gave him money sometimes. Yeah, I've seen that myself. All right. Suppose Artie goes to the suite for a touch. Sweet says no, and Artie argues with him. Artie gets tough, pulls a gun, shoots Sweet and stuffs him in the locker. And then comes back? No. Well, he didn't expect to find you and Woody there. He wanted to see if he'd left any clues. Simple. Maybe you got something at that. And maybe not. It's too easy. It's too simple. Where was Artie during the game? I didn't see him. After I was hit with that liner in the fourth, I didn't pay much attention to anything. Well, if Artie had killed Sweet, he'd have shown up at the game to keep him being suspected. And if he wasn't, the game, he couldn't have killed Woody. Somebody killed him, though. The same somebody who bumped off the suite. Uh-huh. And the same somebody who was up on the elevated tracks while the game was being played. Hey, you didn't come to bat in the age, did you? Huh? Well, listen, I was out there short when Woody got shot. Have you think that... I noticed you weren't in the dugout much of the time, Gabe. Well, when I got hit by that liner, it just about knocked me goofy. I went to the locker room to get taped up, and I went back every chance I got. I didn't know what was going on. Maybe not. What happened to you after you helped carry Woody off the field? I was kind of stunned, I guess. But with that jolt in the head and then Woody, well, I kind of drew a blank. Maybe. What do you mean maybe? Listen, I couldn't have fired that shot. I was on the field. You saw me. 30,000 other people saw me. Don't get excited. I have to suspect everybody. Well, don't concentrate on me. I'm nervous enough without you. Nervous? That's fine. I like to make people nervous. Solves murder cases. Oh, cut the ribbing. What are you going to do about Artie? Yeah, Artie. We still have him. Modi for killing Sweet Benson? Robbery. Modi for killing Woody? What? He might have figured Woody was dangerous and had kind of been in the locker room. He didn't know how much Woody figured out about the Sweet's murder, so he got rid of them. You were in the locker room, too. If Artie is the killer, his next step would be to get you out of the way then. Oh, he wouldn't try anything on me. Well, maybe not. But if I were you, I wouldn't take too many chances. You already know why I didn't go to the game Lieutenant Blake. I told you. I saw it, Woody. I warned him about it. I had a feeling something was going to happen. Oh, psychic, huh? You're quite a baseball fan, though, Jenny. First home game you'd missed, wasn't it? So what? I was mad at Woody. I told you nothing. Mad, huh? Mad enough to kill a guy? No. I just didn't go to the game. I hear my apartment all the time. Every minute. Alone? Well, no. I wasn't going to mention it, but Artie showed up. Oh, Artie. Now we're getting somewhere. Artie, the baseball kid, and Jenny, the baseball girl. Oh, stop it. I don't know what you're getting at. All I know is that Artie came in about the beginning of the sixth inning. Sixth? Yes. I was listening to the broadcast. Artie came in and said he hadn't been able to stay at the game after the way he'd seen Sweet Benson. Sweet was about the only friend Artie had. Mm-hmm. And Artie listened to the rest of the game here, hm? Well, he didn't have anywhere else to go. Was he here when Woody was killed? No. He got nervous about the eighth inning. Said he couldn't sit still, thinking about Sweet. Ah, so he left about the eighth, huh? Have you seen him since? No. Said he'd be back, but I suppose he heard what happened to Woody. That must have upset him worse. But you're not upset. What do you mean? Jenny, you need some time to think up a good story. And I can fix it up for you. Come on. You're going to the station with me. The station? The police station? Why? Well, until we find Artie, your alibi isn't worth a plug, Nickel, Jenny. You say you were here in your apartment. But, ah, without Artie, it doesn't stand up. Alibi? Listen, I told you I was here. Yeah, I know. But I've been up on the elevated tracks, Jenny. And you were careless enough to drop this letter. Elevated tracks? Letter? What letter? This letter from Gabe Stewart. I don't know what you're talking about. Hey, hey, look out! How did you get in behind that curtain? Shut up, Jenny. What are you doing? How did you get in here? Never mind. Come on. Maybe you killed him. He's a policeman. Come on, I said. He was all set to hang you. He had you in a tight spot, Jenny, with that letter. Let's get going fast. I'm a reasonable guy, Artie. I don't mind getting whacked over the head with a black jacket. There's some point to it. But I don't see why you did it. You didn't really think you could get away with it, did you? I think it's smart, don't you? I don't mind that. The point is, we caught you and Jenny, too. And slugging me didn't help any. But I'm fair, Artie. I'm going to give you one more chance to tell me what Jenny had to do with this. Nothing. I told you that. You don't make much of a gala hat, Artie. Now, Jenny... You quit picking on Jenny. Leave her alone. She didn't have nothing to do with it. She's a little bit old for you, isn't she, Artie? What are you talking about? She's the only friend I've got now that... Sweet. Why did you kill Sweet, Artie? You could have gotten money from him. Did Jenny put you up to this? I didn't kill Sweet. You think I'd kill the best friend? Artie, you killed Sweet Benson because Jenny told you to. You knew about Garson wanting Sweet to throw the game. Jenny put you up to it, didn't she? She told you she'd cut you in on the money that Garson promised to pay her. I didn't do it, and Jenny didn't do it neither. You killed Sweet, then you got jumpy. You knew what he was, Jenny's boyfriend, and you figured he might find out something. Or you killed Woody to protect yourself. I didn't, you dumb flatfoot! And then you figured you'd have to get rid of Gabe Stewart next because Gabe had written Jenny that letter about Woody. What letter? You know, Artie, you know the one I found on the elevated tracks, the letter you dropped when you shot Woody Sanders. You're crazy. I don't know about any letter. No? Never saw this letter, eh, Artie? Well, let's see that. That's from Gabe. That's the letter Gabe wrote Jenny. Right, Artie. The letter you read made you mad. You stuffed it in your pocket. But you got careless and you dropped it when you climbed up onto the elevated tracks. No, I saw that letter, sure, but... Of course, Artie. It has your fingerprints all over the envelope. Why that dirty heel? I'll get him if it's the last thing I do. Get who? Gabe Stewart. You won't do any more getting, Artie. Listen, Gabe sent me after that letter. What? Gabe sent you after it? Sure. He gave me two bucks and said he'd mail the letter to Jenny and then changed his mind. Said he wanted it back before Jenny read it. Before Jenny read it? Yeah. He mailed it at night and he knew it'd be delivered next morning. So he gave me the money to wait for the mailman at Jenny's and sneak the letter out before she saw it. Now, look, Artie, don't... That's the truth, honest. I went to Jenny's and got the letter and brought it back to Gabe. Unopened. Jenny never saw it. You're not lying? She never saw it unless... Well, maybe Gabe showed it to the letter. Oh, well, then come along, Artie. We're going for a ride. I know this is a street where he lives. He's got a one-room apartment. Maybe he'll get out of the shed, Artie. Hey, look, that's Gabe getting into his car right in front of the apartment house. Hurry up. We left to stop him. Hey, step on it. He's driving away. He takes Lieutenant Blake. He's going to get away. Don't worry, Artie. We'll get him. But you've got nothing on Gabe anyway. That's the letter, Artie. Gabe dropped it on the elevated track on purpose. That's kind of crazy. Sure, like a fox. He sent you after the letter so to have your fingerprints on it. He wanted to clear himself of suspicion, so he picked on you. He figured your fingerprints would be a sense to get you hung for the murders of both sweet and woody. Oh, can't you get any more out of this tub? He's doing over 80. We'll get him. His next corner's the place. Hold on, kid. Hold on. Okay, Gabe. Come on. Climb out of there. Hey, what is this? You're trying to run me off the street? You might not have... That all works so hard being innocent, Gabe. Huh? Can't a guy go for a ride without you? You're going for a ride all right, bud, but not in that convertible. You think you can frame me? Listen. I read your letter, Gabe. You made just one mistake. You didn't figure on Artie coming to Jenny's rescue. I don't know what you're talking about. When Artie hit me over the head in Jenny's apartment, I knew he wasn't a murderer, because no murderer would worry about me trying to catch somebody else. Oh, no. He'd love that. You try to frame me with that letter. Yeah. He's right, Gabe. You figured if you wrote a letter to Jenny telling her about your troubles with Sweet Benson, and that you knew she was working on Woody Sanders, it'd look like the kind of a letter that would make Artie soar. Getting him to get it, and then leaving it on the tracks with his fingerprints on it, that was kind of cute. Ah, you're nuts. I couldn't have killed Woody. I was right there on the field. Ah, that was a honey, Gabe. Big league staff, you betcha. There's only one guy on the baseball field who's always exactly in the same spot when he starts a play, and that's the pitcher. He tows the rubber on the pitching mound, his arms up, a set target. Ah, what are you talking about? That whole business about the elevated track was a lot of malarkey, just to throw us off the track. Huh? Sure. You left the letter on the tracks. You had plenty of chance to do it, but the shot wasn't fired from there. No? Or was it fired from then? Well, the easiest place to fasten a rifle firmly would be on a light tower on top of the grandstand. You could sight it right down to the pitcher's mound and wire it there. And then I supposed it to go off just by hollering speed. Put the rifle aimed and wired into place. All you'd need would be a gadget of some kind to set it off. Yeah, quite a gadget. No, not so tough. A gadget like maybe one of Garson's boys sitting up near the radio booth, all set to pull a string at a signal from you from the field. A string tied to the trigger of that gun. Ah, you're nuts. Mm-hmm, maybe. Go out and take a look at that light tower anyway. And don't ever take Garson's marble cover you if you're in a jam. They don't play that way. All right. Just a second while I take the keys out of my car. Hey, look out! Look out! Here. I shoulder you. Yeah, I'm not a fixed target like a pitcher on a mound, Gabe. And that revolver yours wasn't wired into place. Sweet Benson and Woody both had it coming to them. The only reason Woody even talked to Garson was to try to get something on me. Woody and Sweet were fixing it to throw me out of baseball. You dirty crook and trying to hang it on to me. You. Oh, he's in the way. I could have... You could have done a lot. You could. One murder wasn't enough. You had to make it a double hitter. And you make two hits. Yeah, two hits and also two errors.