 Good evening, Crease, and welcome to the Mystery Playhouse. If you like to curl up with a good mystery, if suspense and mysterious adventure are your particular dish, then don't go away. Stay right where you are, because tonight we've been fortunate enough to again secure the services of that light-hearted raconteur of murder, horror, and the supernatural. The Laughing Boy of Innocentum, your host, Raymond. Good evening, friends of Innocentum. Welcome once again to the squeaking door. So brave of you to drop in. You know, I do like to have a body around. It keeps me in good spirits. Hey, what's that? Oh, you feel warm. Well, now that may be the fault of the chairs. You see, we've been redecorating, and the chairs you're sitting in are hot seats. We bought them cheap from a firm that builds up a prison. The convict didn't like them. They complained that everyone who sits in those chairs gets absolutely burned alive. And now, friends, to draw up those chairs we talked about earlier and listen to tonight's Tale of Terror, written especially for the Innocentum by Michael Sklar. Our star tonight is Santa Sotega, who acts the role of Martin Wheeler. In a blood-chilling story entitled, I Want to Report a Murder. Other women don't have to put up with that statement. The way she carried on, you think I was Clark Gable? Instead of a middle-aged bank cashier getting bald in a little potbellied? I've never given her any reason to be jealous, not in 20 years of married life. She saw it green every time I mentioned another woman, every time I went out of the house. Like tonight. That was the reason the last time. You've always got a reason for going out and leaving me here alone. Now you've got to practice for the bank employees' bowling tournaments. That's a life-threat story. It happens to be the truth, Margaret. Oh, I'm sure the team will be practicing over the bowling alleys. And I'm just assure you won't be there. Who else would I be? Oh, now you're meeting for tan, Martin. I know you've got a date with one of those... those women. I've told you a hundred times I don't have any dates with any other women. And I'm sick and tired of your insane suspicion. Insane are they? Yes, they are. I'll be home at 11 o'clock. You can wait up on me if you like. Good night. I went down to the car and began to drive to the bowling alleys. Margaret always nagging at me. Someday she'd push me too far. Yes, someday if she didn't stop the nagging, there would be another woman. Stop the car for a red light. There's a girl crossing the street. I noticed that she was blonde and pretty. Little like Margaret that looked, we were first married. And suddenly as the girl passed in front of the car, she slipped and fell to the ground. What happened? Are you all right? That hole in the street. I tripped. Let me help you to your feet. Oh, my foot. I must have sprained it. Can you walk? Well, I'll try. Oh, no. No, I can't put any weight on it. Oh, that's too bad. Look here, let me drive you home. Oh, I don't like to impose, but I... It's not an imposition. I'd consider it a pleasure. She was about 25 years old and married. She said her name was Mrs. Susan Holmes. I didn't tell her my name. And as things turned out, that was lucky. No one was home with her apartment. I helped her to a chair and started to leave. Don't! Don't go yet. Come here. Don't be afraid of me. I'm not going to bite you. Mrs. Holmes, I've got an appointment at the bowling alley. Well, that's not very flattering. Don't you like me? Yeah, sure, I do, but... Mrs. Holmes, please, don't... Don't be silly. You've been very kind. And I like you. Her arms were round my neck, pulling me down toward her. She used a faint perfume. Margaret hardly ever used perfume. Margaret. I thought of her as Susan kissed me. And I stopped thinking until the door opened. Say, what is there? Robin, Susan, who is... I come home and find my wife kissing another guy. How long has this been going on? Well, this is all a mistake. Your wife tripped and had a wrinkle. I brought her home. You won't weasel out of this by blaming it all on Susan. It won't work, Mr. I saw both of you. Mr. Holmes, I've tried to explain. You won't listen to me, so I'm leaving. This gun is loaded, Mrs. Put that gun back in your pocket. Don't be a fool. You're staying here until... Hey, let go of my arm! That gun! Let go of the gun or I'll break your arm. How I've got the gun. Do it back to me. I won't. Stop it. I had to take the gun away from her. I didn't mean to pull the trigger. You killed him. I killed a man. I had to get away quick before the police came. I could walk out of the door and forget the whole thing. Mrs. Holmes didn't know anything about me or even my name. I had to fast. I could get away. Go straight to the bowling alley and pretend it never happened. Where are you going? I'm leaving. Come back. You did come to the bowling alley after all. Margaret, what are you doing here? I've been waiting for you. Checking up on me. Why shouldn't I? I certainly didn't take you this long to drive over from the house. Where have you been? Oh, for heaven's sake, Margaret, leave me alone. Why are you staring at me? Your face. What about my face? Lipstick. Oh, that's why you took so long to get here. Margaret, not so loud. Can you afford to never have dates with other women? Oh, I knew it. I knew it all this time. Don't shout like that. People are staring at us. Let him stare. Let him hear every word I say. I want your friends to know what kind of a man you are. I'm calling for Mr. Wheeler. Mr. Wheeler. That phone call. It must be for me. I'll be right back. Yes? Who's this? Wheeler. You killed my husband. Just in case you've already forgotten. How did you know my name? Where to find me? It was all in your wallet. My wallet? It dropped out of your pocket during the fight. What? Your what? That's impossible. My wife. Would you rather have me call the police? No, no. Don't do that, please. Where shall I meet you? Downstairs in front of my apartment house. I'll be there waiting for you. I'll be there in ten minutes. Bye. Where's that phone call from? No one you know, Margaret. I can tell from the expression on your face. It was that woman again. I can't argue with you, Margaret. I've got to go. Go where? I can't tell you. You're going back to her? No. You could believe her there crying. What else could I do? She wouldn't have believed what happened any more than Holmes did. Even less. Of course, she was so jealous. As soon as in her voice it sounded hard and bitter over the phone. Well, I couldn't blame her. It was a rotten thing I did. Running away like that. Then I saw her waiting at the curb. Young. Slim. Pretty. So you came? I get into the car since I want to tell you I'm sorry about running away. Save the apology. Let's start driving. We drove for a while in silence. Several times I tried to start a conversation but you wouldn't answer. Finally I parked at the end of a deserted street in the waterfront. Bob was rolling into the water. A few minutes of mist would close around us. I've been thinking. I decided what we're going to do. You don't want the police mixed up in this, do you? No. Of course not. Oh, neither do I. Don't ask me why I got my own good reason. You've got a plan? Yeah. My husband subleased the apartment under an assumed name. In two weeks nobody in the house knows it. I'll leave town for good. The police won't be able to trace either of us. What? Your husband's body? I'll leave it. That'll give me at least a couple of days' start before the police find it. You'll have to help me. I need money. How much? $5,000. That's a lot of money. You got a nerve squawking about money. It was self-defense. How would you like to tell that to a jury? Well, I simply haven't got $5,000. There was a card in your wallet that showed you work in a bank. The bank got plenty of money. You know how to get it. And more, too. She wanted me to steal the money. And I saw it clear now. Longer, young and fresh and pretty. That's the cheap, flashy woman who wanted money. Money? It was blackmail. If she got the $5,000 it wouldn't end there. She'd keep biding me, squeezing me, milking me. Well, which is it going to be? The money or the police? Neither. Ah, don't be stupid. There's a law against murder. I'm going to do something very sensible, Susan. What are you? Take your hands off my throat. I don't like to do this. No, you're joking me. My fingers tightened on her throat. I felt as though I was killing something inside me. She kissed me once. She said she liked me. And for a moment, I felt young again. The body went limp suddenly between my hands. She was dead. I was a double-grader. You know, I'm really annoyed at that Martin Wheeler, the ungrateful scoundrel, and that poor kid, Susan Holmes. She got her neck twisted all because she was trying to do Martin a good turn. That wasn't a good return for her pain, was it? But on the other hand, it's not hard to see Martin's point of view. I probably felt that one good turn deserves another. And now, let's return to Martin Wheeler, the middle-aged bank cashier, who's having a night full of trouble. A moment ago, he killed Susan Holmes because she threatened to tell the police about the death of her husband. Farg was all around me now, making the world unreal. In the water, the fog whistles were sobbing. I stood at the end of a pier. The body of Susan in my arms for a moment longer than was necessary. Then dropped her into the water. Back to Margaret. I tried to forget that I'd committed murder. Then I remembered my wallet. My wallet contained my driver's license with my name and address on it. Back in the car, I found a handbag contained a change-pressed key to her apartment with not my wallet. The wallet must still be in her apartment. I thought that I'd hack it. For a while, I was disregarding the fog, passing through red lights. Then a car loomed up in front of me. I slammed on the brakes and stopped, bumping a bump. Then I got out of the car in front of me, wore a uniform. I'd almost hit a police car. All right, what's your right, Missy? I didn't see these stops on the fog. You were doing at least 40 miles an hour on the city street, too. Driving like that on a night like this, you could kill somebody. What's your hurry? Nothing, nothing at all. I just wanted to get home to my wife. Let's have a look at your license. My driver's license? It's in my wallet. Get it out. I lost my wallet the other day. License and all. I haven't had a chance to apply for a new one. What's your name? Martin Wheeler. Where do you live? Six and three and a half cents a drive. And you say your wife is at home? Yes, sir. All right, move over. We'll drive over to your house. Your wife will have to identify you. Is that all, officer? All except for this. Now, here's your ticket, Wheeler. Appear in traffic court tomorrow morning. And apply for a new license, you understand? Yes, sir. I'll do that. All right. And don't let me catch your driving like that again. Good night. Good night. Well, Martin? I'm sorry, Margaret. You're sorry? Who is she? What's her name? Believe me, this isn't like what it seems. Are you in love with her? Are you answering me? No, I don't love her. Someday I'll be able to tell you what happened, but not now. I'm awfully tired. Let's go to bed. I pretended to sleep. The thought of my wallet still in Susan's apartment keeps spinning through my mind. I had to get out of the house. I had to get to Susan's apartment and find the wallet. I couldn't leave until I was sure Margaret was asleep. I tore the door. I didn't see the chair in the dark until I stumbled over it. I used the key I found in Susan's purse to let myself into her apartment. The body was no longer in the living room floor. She must have dragged it away. Perhaps she put it in the closet before she wanted to meet me. I didn't look for the body. My first concern was my wallet. And I found it where she must have left it on the telephone table. Everything was there. Two dollars, my license. I put it into my pocket and started to leave. Wait a minute. Holmes, I thought you were dead. I'm still very much alive, Mr. Wheeler. Put the fight to the gunshot. You fell to the floor Susan said you were dead. You're not even wounded. I don't understand. The gun. It must have been loaded with blanks. That's right. But why? Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me go on thinking that... I think I understand now. It was the old badger came right from the beginning. Susan's brain anchor. When she kissed me. When you came in on us. That was all arranged in advance. I thought she really liked me. But it was all done in order to blackmail me. And now... Now she... Where is she? I don't know. She met you to arrange for the money. Now you've got her door key. What did you do to her? Nothing. Nothing. You don't kid me, Wheeler. I can figure out what happened. She met you and asked for the money according to plan. But you figured you could get out of the mess for killing her. That's what you did. No. Sure you did. Else how could you get the door key? She wouldn't give it to you. Why would you come back here for the wallet? You better be on the level with me, Wheeler. I don't know what you're talking about. Yes you do. So you killed her. But I don't hold it against you. Level with me and we'll make a deal. What do you want? So you did kill her. Yes. So it's a real thing now, instead of a phony. But the price is still the same. I'll keep my mouth shut for $5,000. You was right. The situation was still the same. I got the money for her, might be in his grip forever. That's his life of mine. I had no choice. But I needed a weapon. And I saw it on the desk. The sharp point at Levin Island. All right. I'll give you the money. When? Right now. I'll sit down at the desk and write you a check. He's on the smart thing, really. Yeah, you... That knife, stay away from me. Some money? No. No, no. Weird. That's... I've been with him twice in one night. This time, sure he was dead. Wipe my fingerprints off the knife. Wipe the door now. Nothing behind it might connect me with the two murders. Going home. Concentrated on one thought. Just forget this night. Erase it from my memory. If I ever thought of this night again, it would be as a nightmare. Mr. Johnson, save. Back in the world where such things as I had done simply didn't happen. Someday, I tell Margaret the truth. Someday when we were old, such things no longer mattered. And then the room exploded in my face. Oh, oh, Margaret. Don't. Don't, please don't. You're making a mistake. But you wouldn't let me. Please. I don't need any explanation. You went back to her. I told you I'd tell you if you went back to that woman. Number three. Operator, get me the police. I want to report a murder. Surprise, then. Oh, you weren't. Well, anyway, that ending certainly was a surprise for Martin Wheeler. You might say it was curtain for Martin. But you don't have to think of it. He made one big mistake. He shouldn't have murdered that nice Holmes couple. No, indeed. He should have murdered his wife. Then we might have had a happy ending. Good night to you, old poison pus. And thanks for your story. I want to report a murder. Tonight's performance in the Mystery Playhouse. We'll be taking you again in the near future. Please, until next time. Good night. Sleep tight. This is the Armed Forces Radio Service.