 This is your host to welcome you through the creaking door into the inner sanctum. For another quiet, restful evening on the homie's side. What's that, madam? Oh, the humidity. You feel level. Well, right this way into the morgue, this cold slab will straighten you out. Well, how about a nice hot poker game? Cutthroat. Well, how about a nice sociable game of bridge? Oh, I see. Yeah, afraid of the stiff competition. Oh, you'll play. Well, remember, you gotta pay up if you lose. We got enough deadheads here. Tonight's inner sanctum mystery, deadly fair, was written by Henry Warner and stars Larry Haynes in the role of Angelo with Everett Sloan as Philip. Just a moment. Don't settle back in your chair. You're going for a ride. Ready? It's the dark hour before dawn. Along the treeline suburban highway, the headlights of the speeding sedan poke two long yellow fingers through the swirling dune. Behind the wheel of the sedan, a local taxi, sits Angelo Minetti, the cab driver. A cold nose of a madman's gun pressed against the back of his neck. Wondering by what faith a man like himself will live through the beachheads at Silano and Anzio, only to come home to die like this. Wondering how long before the madman's trigger finger bends in the nervous twitch and makes a widow out of his wife, Josie, and the fatherless boy of a seven-year-old son, Johnny. You're legit a nice, Johnny. Sorry I made you cry, but if I ever get out of this, you can have all the crayons you want. A hundred boxes of crayons, and you can mark up all the walls. You can mark up the whole house. Pray for me, Johnny. I can't die like this. Just because I was a good guy and changed shifts with Connelly, I guess it was just the cards for me instead of Connelly. Just the cards to be working nights and meet the 225 on it, pulled into large parts. Taxi, here you are, man. You going to the manor? Yes, ma'am. I took a quick look up and down the station platform to watch with stragglers. Bad business leaving a local citizen stranded in the middle of the night. Then I saw him coming towards me carrying a suitcase. He must have got off from the first car. Is this a taxi? Yes, sir. Oh, I can't tell these suburban taxis look like private cars. Where to? Go to New Rochelle. I slept past my station. Well, good thing you only slept by one station. Sure, I'll take it. If you don't mind riding while I drop this lady. Thanks. I took the mic off the dashboard. Call the office. Sixty-four calling radio taxi. Sixty-four calling radio taxi. Come in, sixty-four. Station the manor, then Rochelle. Check. I put the mic back on the dashboard hook and settled down to the runway. Are you boys doing since you installed a two-way radio service? Oh, fine, fine. Must say it's improved the service. Is it dependable? Oh, yes, clam. No trouble at all. Circus always open for us to receive messages. I want to talk back. I just pressed the button on the handmines, for example. Uh, what's his address? Seventy-six manor land. Calling sixty-four. Radio taxi calling sixty-four. Hey, Angelo, listen to me. What's eating you all the way? Place on fire? Hey, Angelo, I just got a police call. Don't pick up a guy with a tan raincoat. The cops are looking for him. He's a killer. Uh, take it easy, Louis. Now, what's this you're saying about a killer? What's he saying? The cops say he got on at Grand Central with a ticket to New Rochelle. But so what? Well, listen, Angelo, the guy didn't get off at New Rochelle. You pick up someone with a tan raincoat? Yeah, general. The man in the back seat had a raincoat. You could almost hear the woman sitting beside him holding a breath. And then I recall the guy as he walked down the station platform. I recall plain that he did not have a raincoat, only a suitcase. Well, you pipe down, Louis. You better get some coffee at the diner. If you fall asleep, you'll be having nightmares, Roger. Good thing I have no raincoat, madam. Yes, sir. Strange that all that should stand in the way is a raincoat. How's that? Drive right there, please. I'm on the next street life. 35 cents. Nice. You changed. She just waved her hand, is it telling me to keep a change from the dollar? Seems kind of scared, if you ask me. Are you? Scared? What for? The killer. Ah, that Louis, he gets excited about everything. Always adding a little out of his own head. What's the address in New Rochelle? Bayside Lane, 36. A 36, Bayside Lane? Yes. Know the place? Off-Health Side Road, Long Driveway. That's it? I drove a party up there from the manor tonight. What did he look like? I didn't say it was him, did I? Well, wasn't it? Yeah, I was. Tall chap, slick looking, mustache. Well, look, I didn't talk out of turn, did I, Mr? Not at all. I'd rather expect I'll find him still there. What's your name, Angelo Minetti? Mines Baker. But don't let me embarrass you, Angelo. It's quite all right. That party you drove to my house is seeing my wife. Isn't that what you think? Oh, you got me wrong, Mr. I don't think nothing. Don't you really? Lots of others think so. Rather common gossip, as they say. But I'm not angry. Not at all. I'll take care of everything once I get home. Calling 64. Radio taxi calling 64. Come in, Louis. Got some more dope on that killer. He got into Grand Central on the train from Albany. Porter in the club car told the cops a guy was making cracks about having a gun and taking care of the wife and the boyfriend. Well, so what? What are you bothering me with it for? Go call a daily nose at a mirror. Well, wait a minute. Now, here's what I want to tell you. A guy who got off at Largemont with a suitcase. How about that fear you picked up? A gun in my fear's hand. And my gun was at the side of my head. His finger was on his lips, warning me. You didn't... See the trigger finger, Bendy? And his head shaking from side to side to tell me to say no. Uh, no, no, Louis. I had two. One to the man of the other to Rockdale. Not, not Rochelle. I didn't get it right the first time. I got to call you. Also, also he didn't have a suitcase. Oh, that's a relief. See, uh, how's it about coming back to the shack so I can get a bite at the diner? Yeah, sure thing. Soon as I'm free, this guy wants me to wait for him. Take him back to the station. Roger. Nice work, Angelo. I got a wife and kid to thank of Mr... Do you want to go to 36 Bayside Lane? That's right. Better slow down. There's Bayside Lane right ahead. All right, this'll do. I wouldn't like it if they heard us coming up the driveway. There'll be a dollar and a quarter soon. Get out, Angelo. You want me to get out? That's right. You're coming in with me to be my witness. Witness? What for? Divorce, maybe. Oh, please, Mr. Baker, that's not right. I can't afford to get mixed up like this. Will my taxi get out? And don't slam the door. Yes, sir. Carry my bag, please. He steered me with a gun in my bag. Slowly picking each step in the dark, across the lawn, shielded by a high hedge, and around to the back of the house, to the kitchen. The lights were on and we could see his wife and the boyfriend making himself some bacon and eggs. All right, Angelo, pull open the door. Hello, Doris. Hello, Walter. What are you doing with that gun? Please, sir. Excuse me while I close the door, Walter. No use waking the neighbors. Oh, Doris, this is Angelo. Walter, Angelo. The introductions were polite all right, but deadly. And he looked like he was enjoying it, a big joke. But there was nothing funny about that crazy grin on his face in the way he kept waving the gun around at the three of us. Well, Walter. Philip, please, you're frightened me. Walter's not frightened. He never was. Of me? Isn't that so, Walter? Well, why don't you answer? There's nothing to say. Doris, do you love Walter? Come now. Of course. And you, Walter, do you love Doris? Yes. You dirty liar. Please. He's lying, Doris. I know he's lying. He wouldn't go around bragging how he sees you every time I go out of town if he really loved you. That's not true. We're going to be married. Oh, married. Not until you become a widow, Doris. I'll never give you a divorce. Or are you planning to divorce me? All right, Philip. You found me here and you have a witness. What are you going to do about it? I came back from Albany tonight to kill you. But I'll give you just one more chance. If I ever hear that you're trying to see Doris again behind my back, I swear I'll kill you. And Angelo here can be my witness that I warned you. Do you remember that, Angelo? Yes. You got me wrong, Philip. Sure, I've been seeing Doris, but I never went around talking about it. Don't come any closer while I said to Doris, let's tell him. Give me that gun. Let's go. Let's go. Give me that gun. Philip, Philip, please. Please, stop it. Stop it. Doris. The tree ever stood here paralyzed. Looking down on the still body of Mrs. Baker, her eyes glassy and blue, her blonde hair soaking up the blood from the hole in her head. One look was enough for the three of us to know that she was dead. You... you killed her, Philip. I... I killed her. No, Walter. You killed her. Didn't he, Angelo? No. The two of them stood there glaring at one another across the body of Mrs. Baker. Yes. You killed her, Walter. The gun was in my hand, but you killed her. If you hadn't tried to take the gun away from me, where are you going? Phone the police. Police? Yes. Put down that phone. Put it down. You ought to put that gun away now. He's right, Mr. Baker. I don't think he even hurt him. He kneeled down beside the body of his wife and stared at her tenderly. Suddenly, his mouth started to move like he was choking for air, and his face twisted in angry pain and hate as he looked up at Walter. I could see Walter sensing a tool realizing that Mr. Baker was going out of his mind. It was a heavy glass ashtray by the phone. I could see Walter slowly reaching for it. Mr. Baker looked up and jumped back as Walter threw it. You won't stop him! You stay out of this, Angelo! Don't shoot! Don't! Angelo! Doctor! They're going to die, Walter. Die like Doris! Angelo! Help me! Doctor! Don't bother, Angelo. He won't need a doctor. Stop it! No, no, don't do it. Mr. Baker, give him a chance. Please, give him a chance! He doesn't need a doctor now, Angelo. Does he? Go on. Bend over him. See if he needs a doctor. He's dead. Yes. Now they're both dead. Both dead. What do we do, Mr. Baker? Do? Well, what is there to do? The police. We ought to call the police. They'll take me away from Doris. I don't want to leave her. No, I mustn't leave Doris. Now, please. Please, Mr. Baker, won't you give me the gun? The gun? No. No, I got the gun to protect myself from Walter. But I'm not afraid of Walter anymore. He's dead. Walter's dead. That's right. Doris is dead and Walter's dead. We can't leave them here. We must take them away to a nice, quiet place where they can be alone forever. We... we take them away in your car, Angelo. My car? Yes, Angelo. You must do as I tell you. Angelo, it will be their funeral car. The kitchen was next to the garage. And he made me drive my car into the garage. Open the trunk compartment, Angelo. He kept the gun on me and followed me into the kitchen. He pointed to her first. I picked her up and carried her. Try not to look at her. Tell her myself I ought to grab the jack handle in the trunk compartment and swing it on him, but I didn't do it. I was afraid. I was afraid I'd never live to see Josie and Johnny again. I placed Mrs. Baker in the trunk gently. And then he made me go back for the other one. Push him in, Angelo. Doris, the code will stick through the door when you close it. That's better. Very good. How's the trunk? As I locked the trunk door, I grabbed the handle and bit my lip to keep from passing out. Don't you feel well? I'll be all right. Yes. You'll be all right as soon as we hit the road. The fresh country air will straighten you out. Get behind the wheel, please. I got in and he got in the back seat. I must remind you, Angelo, I'll be right here behind you with this gun in the back of your neck. Don't try to trick me. Radio Tick. Don't answer, Angelo. Ignore him, Angelo. Start driving. Wait till, Mr. Baker. Just keep going. But stay off the Hutchinson Parkway. The troll cars, you know. Take the back roads. You'll find a nice, quiet place for them. We went north on the post road. Louis' call breaking in on us every minute or so. Calling 64. Radio taxi calling 64. Assistant, hello, isn't it? Well, well, sorry. Expect me back to relieve him so he can get down to the diner for a bite. Pass me that cigarette lighter on the dashboard. Don't you hear me? I want the cigarette lighter. Oh, it's not working. We've got any matches in my pocket. Let me have them. I reached into the side pocket of my jacket. Bumbling through my handkerchief and keys for the pack of matches. And then my fingers touched the clay. A small piece of black crayon. No bigger than an inch long with a paper wrapping. The small piece of crayon I'd taken away from Johnny after I yelled at him and made him cry for marking up the war. What about those matches? Ah, yeah. Here you are. I handed over the matches. But the piece of crayon was in my palm concealed and held tight by my little finger and the one next to it. He lit a cigarette. You want the cigarette, Angelo? No, thanks. There ever was a time in my life I needed a smoke, it was then. But I was trembling with an idea. An idea to make my microphone stay open so Louie could hear me without Mr. Baker getting wise. But I had to hold on to the crayon. I couldn't take a chance reaching for a cigarette. I might drop that crayon. I waited for Louie to call me again. Say, Mr. Baker, maybe I better answer him. Why? Well, well, he might think I'm in a wreck and he'll have to cop start looking for me. Yes. Yes, you're quite right. Very well, talk to him. But be careful what you're telling him. I picked the microphone off the dashboard with the hand that held the piece of crayon. Sixty-four calling radio taxi. Where the heck you been, Angelo? All right. Let me explain, Louie. We should... Louie enforcing the crayon into the button on the mic, right into the hole that housed the spring button, hoping the paper wrapping on the crayon would wedge the button and keep my sending circuit open. Oh, Louie. Louie, I'm fixing a flat. Must be a loose wire. I didn't hear you until just now. Be back as soon as I can. Roger. Put the mic back on the dashboard, Louie. Craying the crayon wedge would hold. As long as that button was wedged on, Louie couldn't talk to me. As voice came through, I'd know the crayon had slipped out. I waited. Second seemed like ours. But from Louie, so the wedge was holding. I raised my voice so it would carry the two feet between me and the mic. Mr. Baker, are you gonna kill me, too? Kill you? Yeah. Yeah, like you killed Mrs. Baker and Walter? I... I've been thinking about what I ought to do with you, Angelo. No, don't kill me, please. I... I gotta wipe the kid up late. Am I swearing? All right, well, I'll never tell anyone that you killed two people. Where are we... Where are we going to hide the bodies? We'll run out of gas if we keep going like this. I know where we'll go. Lake Atoma. Doris loved Lake Atoma. We used to go there weekends long ago. Uh, where is Lake Atoma? About 40 miles from here. 40 miles? I knew I had to find somewhere to stall them. The range of my cab's transmitter was about 30 miles. If I ever got out of range, I was done for. I had no way of knowing whether Lou had left the officer or if he caught my first words telling him about my danger. Uh, do you know how to get to Lake Atoma from here, Mr. Baker? Roughly, I know we used to go past White Plains. Oh, I got a map. Good. Stop the car. Take a look at it. Now, let's see. White Plains. Yeah, yeah, Lake Atoma. There it is. Uh, we go up here and then, uh-huh, I know where it is. Sure, sure. All right, let's go. Go the most direct way. No details, mind you. Oh, no, sir, no, sir. We're on Weaver Street now. We keep going up Weaver Street till we get into Old Mamaronic Road. That sounds right, but hurry. I'm getting very tired. Step on the gas. I heard him, but I played dumb. Don't you hear me? I said let's go faster. Oh, sure. Sure, anything you say, Mr. Baker. But, uh, you think it's smart? We're doing 50 now. Not very fast in the country. Well, county patrol cars are all through this section. We'll get caught speeding. That's quite all right. I'll pay the fine. Faster, Angelo. That's better. 60, 65, 70. Faster. It'll soon be daylight and I'm very tired. I'm very tired. I wonder if Doris is tired. Oh, see, what did I tell you? This is Weaver Street. And then into Old Mamaronic Road. You hear that? The patrol car? I told you. Slow down. But remember, I'll have the gun in my coat pocket. Let me do the talking. Just accept the ticket and we'll be on our way. The patrol car let me roll ahead and swung in behind us and we came to a stop. Where do you think you're going? You were doing 80. Let's see your life. It's my fault, officer. I asked him to. Yeah, what for? There's been a death in my family. My wife. Sorry. Well, I have to give the driver the ticket. He looked at my license in the name of the patrol car headlight. And he started making out the ticket. And then in the side mirror of my cab, I could see another cop get out of the patrol car with a gun in his hand. And I saw him sneak down on the right side of the cab. He stuck the gun through the open back window, just as Mr. Baker saw him. Don't move. What? Too bad we couldn't take him in. Oh, it helped, Johnny. It helped. Say, how come this guy didn't get wise? Your microphone circuit was open. You want to know? You really want to know? I'm leaving the house to go to work, see? In the hall, my kid Johnny is marking up the walls with crayons. I yell at him and they can cry and take the crayon away. That's what kept the mic open. Hey, look, look here. You see, the crayon's too holding the buttons down. Hey, you got any kids? Yeah, why? You think I done right? Yelling at Johnny? It just goes to show you a fella can do a lot worse than stopping in the middle of the night for a lovely siren. As you father, next time you find Junior's crayon crawling all over the house, he means well. Just trying to show you the handwriting on the wall. Oh, this reminds me of a fellow I know who's crazy about baseball. When the warden asked him what he wanted for a last request, he said he'd like to watch a game from the scaffold. But they called it after the six, so he could enjoy his seven-leaning stretch. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Third in the United States over CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System, and has been rebroadcast for service men and women overseas. This is the United States Armed Forces Radio Service, The Voice of Information and Education.