 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. This story we're trying out for a Mystery House novel tonight, Barbie. Murder me gently. Gently. That sounds a little tame. There's nothing tame about this story, Dan. Oh, anything gentle? Well, uh, wait and decide for yourself. Well, that's the great American privilege, Mr. Glenn, deciding for yourself. Now let's not get stuffy, Thomas. No, I'm serious, Mr. Glenn. You know, as an American citizen, you pay your money and you take your choice. And everybody has a right to tell their story. Oh, incidentally speaking of stories, listen to this one. Okay, places, everybody. Set the scene, will you, Tom? Murder me gently. Tonight's story opens in a record shop. Albums of symphonic recordings fill the shelves along one wall, and across the room are several soundproof booths in which prospective customers may listen to records. Shirley Boyington, a clerk, is talking over the telephone. Pro-whattie-f? Listen, this is a crime I haven't heard of them. I bet there's plenty you don't know about the stuff that's mellow, the swing of Barrel House music. What? Sure, Mr. Ballzer's here. Look, lady, I'll be happy to let you talk to him. And we've probably got what you want. All we do have is long underwear waxings. Huh? Oh, no offense, lady. But I'll unbeat right down to my socks with all these long hair questions. Hold the line, please. Mr. Ballzer, one of your classic kids. Hey, why don't you turn off that record? Hey, Mr. Ballzer, what's the matter? Are you sick? Wake up. Wake up, Mr. Ballzer. Hey, wait a minute. He's dead. Don't try to get next to me with talk about music, Miss Boyington. I couldn't care less about music. A music shop is my idea of something to stay out of. I'm here now for just one reason. You mean because Mr. Ballzer got sick and died? I mean because he was murdered, sister. But couldn't he have just died? Sure, he could have bright eyes, but he didn't. He was poisoned. But Mr. Perry, I don't know anything about it. I'm strictly off time with the whole thing. I mean, I know from nothing but positively. I'm glad you told me, sister. Now I don't have to worry about you anymore. Just like that. You're in free. You don't need to be sarcastic. Anybody would think you suspected me. It's my business to suspect you. And you know something? I rather enjoy suspecting you. You're a music lover and I hate music lovers. I'm not a music lover. I'm an alligator, a wolfhound. A what? Didn't you ever hear of a hep chick, Mr. Perry? Hep chick? Hep to the jive. I'm no square. And I know enough to be sure you can't pin that murder onto me. Whoa, whoa, I'm not going to pin anything on you. Not even a musician's medal. I just want information. I've already told you. I know, I know, but you haven't told me anything I can understand. Nor anything connected with a murder. They tell me your late boss was a Wagner fan. You got that off a record label. You're not fooling me. And he wasn't. Wagner was never his dish. Mendelton. He was always mumbling about Mendelton, almost like he knew the guy. No, we're getting somewhere. He liked Mendelton, huh? And you liked jazz. I bet you had some pretty good arguments with him, huh? I'll say I did. But he was all wound up in cat gut. Why, if I was running this place, I'd have all the hot recordings on the market. Slam Stewart and Tatum and some old Biderbecks and, uh, Fatchmole. Fatchmole? Listen, are you double talking me? Ah, Fatchmole's Louis Armstrong. And if you haven't heard him take off on our trumpet, Mr. Perry, you haven't lived. I'd have his records. The hard to get stuff. I'd have the alligators lined up screaming and swooning and throwing the money into the cash drawer. That's what you planned, isn't it? Your uncle agreed to back you if you could talk Bolzer into selling the shop. How'd you find out about that? I told you it was my business to find out things, remember? Now, wait a minute, Hawkshaw. If you think you're gonna make me confess... Thank you. A police force don't use force, sister. It isn't nice and it isn't legal. I bet you've been reading detective stories. Oh, you... I hate you. In my business, sister, you get used to that. I've been hated by a lot of killers. Don't you call me a killer? Me? I wouldn't think of it. But you wanted old man Bolzer's record shop business. You saw your chance to make a lot of money. Oh, that's kind of stupid. It'd be a motive. You'd be surprised how many murders these days are committed over trifles. A guy who don't like the way his wife wears her hair and curlers while she's pouring his breakfast coffee. Little things. Most of the trouble in the whole cock-eyed world starts from little things. If you'd quit picking on me and go talk to his wife, you'd say he was poisoned. She'd know more about that than anybody. Yeah? Why? He ate his meals at home. I'll talk to her, don't worry. But before I leave you to your alligators, tell me, what was that record Bolzer was listening to before he died? I don't know. Some long-haired thing. He got in the mail this morning. You want to hear it? No more than I want appendicitis. When it reaches the point where I gotta listen to music, I'll quit. Come in, Mr. Perry. I know you wish to speak of my husband. Joseph... I'm sorry to have to bother you, Mrs. Bolzer, but I gotta live in a mate. Let it be so, Mr. Perry. I have seen enough in this life so I can accept my husband's death. What's that noise, Mrs. Bolzer? Oh, you surprised me when you came to the door. I've forgotten the phonograph. I shut it off now. I'm sorry. Music, huh? Phonograph music. Don't you people ever get away from it? Music made Joseph very happy. I suppose that could be. But didn't he worry about his shop? A little, perhaps. He did not understand the modern music. What you call swing. And sometimes he told me of little spats with Miss Boyington. Spats, huh? It was as if Miss Boyington would like to change the music store to make it all loud and noisy. But always my husband said no. He was faithful to the court, the fine music only. He worried about this... this alligator Miss Boyington, huh? No. My husband did not worry. He was a happy man always. Except... except when he thought about France. That's a new one on me. France. France Cronin, our dearest friend. Perhaps you have heard of him, the violinist. A musician? I don't know any musicians, thanks. But France is no ordinary musician. He was insane once, and music cured him. Now he is once again a great artist. Music. The divine music cured him. A great artist. He will come soon to play here. He's a crowd too. Pardon, I mean, he's a German? Yeah, the three of us. We lived in a small village in Bavaria. Years ago, before we came to this country, France was a special friend of mine. Till I married Chaucer. Sweetheart, huh? Was he sore at your husband before he went nuts? Oh, never. He was only sad. Sad that my love is for Chaucer and not for France Cronin. Seen him since he got out of the bird cage? Bird cage? And yeah, yeah, I mean the asylum. No. You see, they experimented with France using his own music to cure him. And when it was successful, there was so much in the newspapers about it that he was put immediately on concert tour. I see. There's another angle. Angle? I do not understand. There's poisons that delay their action. Like, uh, he could have been poisoned at breakfast and then died at his store. You think maybe I poisoned Chaucer? But why? He carried insurance, didn't he? Fuck nine. Mr. Perry, I wonder if you can understand something. What? Joseph was a kind man. He wished no harm to anybody. What he's done, he's done. He was not, uh, vindictive. What are you driving at? Because he is dead. Joseph would not wish trouble to another. Why don't we just forget about everything? That is what he would wish. You mean, you claim you love this guy so much and you just assume that the whole thing dropped? Like, yes. Because one person is dead, should there be trouble in sorrow for others? Uh-huh, that's what I've been taught. Lots of trouble. But Joseph would not approve of such a way. Joseph? I got a boss at headquarters who was more in a position to be. Now, you just kind of calm down and take it easy. Lie down and sleep. I'll be back later. Uh, Mr. Perry. Yeah? Would you mind looking inside my bedroom before I retire to see there is nobody there? I, uh, somehow I am a little, uh, a tiny bit afraid. Why, okay, Mrs. Balzer, sure. Well, where's your bedroom? I, I'll show you. This way, please. Right down this hall. Follow me. I hope you don't get a case of nerves. What, uh, what you mind looking? Sure not. Uh, where's the switch? It's kind of dark in here. Dull thud. Sounded like something hitting against Detective Perry's head. Didn't it? Well, when you take a job like that, what can you expect? But who hit him? The same person who murdered Joseph Balzer? That seems logical, doesn't it? And that would be, well, we'll find out in the second act. And now, act two of murder may, gently. The scene is the comfortable little Balzer cottage. Mrs. Balzer is trying to convince Lieutenant Perry that she doesn't know anything about Blackjack. Lieutenant Perry usually cannot suspect me of hitting you on the head with that Blackjack. I could suspect anybody, Mrs. Balzer. I'm that kind of a guy by nature, suspicious. It was you led me into that room. But I had not pulled down the curtains. It was not my fault that the room was dark. No, it was handy, though. Oh, Lieutenant Perry, don't you see, you had told many people you were coming here to question me. That ain't any reason to get hit over the head, is it? Somebody must have been afraid I would say something. Somebody hiding, maybe to hurt me. It was me that got hurt, lady. Perhaps whoever hit you was afraid of being discovered. Look, if there was anybody else in that room, how come you didn't see him after I was hit? How come you didn't hear a door open or anything? But I told you, I was so frightened I fainted. I did not come to for some minutes. Yeah, yeah, you told me, but you didn't convince me. Oh, oh, the door. That will be Franz. Huh? Franz, come in. Oh, it leaves you. So, this man is bothering you, perhaps? No, he is a detective trying to solve Joseph's murder. But he cannot suspect you, Elsa. See here, you. You say here yourself. Who are you, anyway? Franz Krünen. Perhaps you have heard some of my concerts or accords. Perhaps I haven't, too. Not if I could help it. I ain't a music fan, Krünen. But if you're the musician Mrs. Balzer was telling me about, how come you ain't out on a concert tour? I arranged my tour to be here for a reunion today with Elsa and Joseph. It was most fortunate. Fortunate? You mean that Balzer was murdered? I mean that I should be here in Elsa's hour of trouble. How long you been here, Krünen? Oh, I see you suspect me, or do not worry, my friend. I didn't arrive until some hours after the murder. That is true, Lieutenant. I met him at the train. That phonograph record you sent Joseph Balzer. Yes? What about it? It was on the phonograph when the girl found Balzer's body. Yes? Kind of funny that record would be playing when Balzer died. Oh, you think maybe my music is so bad it kills him? Any kind of music kills me. The writing on the label of that record, Krünen. Mitweimut for Joseph von Franz Kronen. What does that mean? You think to make something sinister of that, Lieutenant? It means with longing for Joseph von Franz. With longing, eh? Yeah. You think you can figure perhaps a double meaning to that? Maybe. If I do, I'll let you know. Ilsa, I'm going to take you away somewhere where you will not be reminded of Joseph. Guess again, Krünen. Guess again. Greetings, Gates. Looking for a platter? Oh, the devil are you. Billy McKenna, why? You want a record? I want to talk to Shirley Foyington. She's supposed to be in this shop. I'm a boyfriend, mister. She's heading for the airport right now, but I know this joint like a... Airport? You mean she's leaving town? She didn't go out there just to watch the planes come in. Why's that? Easy, buddy. Easy. You're talking about my favorite hip chick. How easy is you, hip chick? Oh, she's taking a run-off powder, huh? She's rushing to New York to get a bunch of hot platters. She's going to bring this shop to life. Boy, that joint will be jumping when she loads it with some decent stuff. Come on, you. Huh? Listen, I'm supposed to be watching things here for Shirley. I'm not going any place. Again, Bob, you're going to the airport with me right now. You can't order me around. Wait a minute. Look, Junior, I'm a policeman, a detective, and I not only can order you around, but I may have to get rough if you don't hurry. We got to stop that girl. Now, come on. Flight 6 for St. Louis, Memphis, Jackson in New Orleans, now loading at gate number four. Keep an eye peeled, McKenna. We'll have to find her before she leaves. The guy said the New York plane won't load for five minutes yet. You've got Shirley all wrong, Mr. Perry. She's strictly on the beam. I'll put her on the beam if I find her. Dig as Shirley, huh? Why, you. Hey, that's her heading for the gate. Why, you. Run, Shirley. Hurry. Hey, stop. Stop in the name of the law. You. Hey, stop. Ow! I got you. Let go of my arm. You've got to go right... Come along, sister. Try to skip the country, huh? You're crazy. I was flying to New York to get some decent records to put that shop on the map. I was coming right back. Yeah, I bet. You can't accuse her of lying, Mr. Perry. She's not that kind of a kid. You keep out of this. What's more, I'm going to put you under arrest for trying to help a fugitive escape. Me? Now you see here. Don't you talk to Billy that way. He had nothing to do with it. The whole thing was my idea. He hollered jiggers at you, didn't he? Technically, he was helping you get away. If either one of you causes me any more trouble, I'll make you both listen to classical music the rest of the day. Come on. Put my plane reservation. You shouldn't be worrying about a plane reservation, sister. Who knows? There may be a reservation for you down at the station. Miss Boyington, this morning you brought coffee in the Mr. Balzer, didn't you? Sure. About an hour before he died. Are you trying to say I put poison in his coffee? Or would I get poison? Excuse me, baby. Look, alligator, you got any visible means of support? Here we go again. Oh, Billy, I'm sorry. I'm the manager of the soda found at the drugstore just around the corner. Oh, drugstore, huh? You don't need to draw a picture, Mr. Perry. I know what you're thinking, but can't you see that Shirley's too nice a kid to... I mean, to ever put poison in anybody's coffee? Even if I could get it and give it to her. She ain't got the poison from you. Then she talked Balzer into staying here in the shop for his coffee. I never talked Balzer into anything. He was so stubborn you couldn't convince him of anything. Oh, pardon me, Miss Balzer, but it's true. He was so excited about that record he got in the mail, he didn't want to go out. Record? Oh, we're back to that, huh? Where is it anyway? I took it home. It was France record and the sentiment and everything. Go get it. And while you're about it, get France, too. We might as well get this thing really mixed up. Well, back so soon, Liebchen? Oh, my darling, you look tired. I'll get you a pot of tea, then you will feel better. There is no time for tea, France. I've got to get that record and take it to the detective, and he wants to see you, too, France. The record? Oh, yes. But first, there's something that we must settle in, sir. Oh, France, you promised not to talk of such things. Yeah, I know. With all of my life, I've wanted you, Elsa. You know that. How can you speak so? Joseph was your dearest friend. Hold those ears, you... No, let us not speak of those ears. The asylum is behind me. I'm cured, Elsa. Yet I need you as much as you need me, Liebchen. Please, you cannot speak so. But I will always be your very dear friend, France. Friend? Friend, is it? No, I do not need friendship. I need you, Elsa. I must have you, and I will... Oh, France, control yourself. They will take you away again. No, never, Elsa. Not if you marry them. No. No, you must go away and never come here again. Oh, France, what are you doing? Just pouring the tea. That record, Elsa, it was for you. Addressed to Joseph, but for you. Yeah, it said, Mithremut for Joseph von Franz Grün. With longing for Joseph from Franz Grün. Yeah, the laborer said that. Yeah, with longing for Joseph. Yeah, with longing for Joseph, death. Vance, the tea. A little spice for my Liebchen. I shall go away, as you ask. And you shall go away, and we shall never return. You have poisoned the tea. Perhaps it does not matter. Only that we shall never return. You and I and Joseph. You killed Joseph? No, I merely gave him the remedy. He used it. Just as you will. You're insane, France. You killed my Joseph. It's more cleverly than I will kill you, Elsa. The stupid police will never know how Joseph died. But would you care to know, before you drink your tea? Oh, no. I don't want to hear it. I won't listen. The record I sent Joseph. The label was loose on it, hanging to the centre of the record, by only one corner. The label was such a tender sentiment. What? No. No, I saw the record. The label... Naturally, with the label about to come off, he has such a thoughtful tender label. What would Joseph do? He'll mean you. Yeah, Liebchen. That label had a special kind of glue on it. A glue I mixed myself. And when Joseph touched the label through this tongue, he tasted the poison, which killed him. And then, with the label smoothed onto the record, all evidence was gone. Was that not clever of me, Elsa? No, don't. No, on the contrary, most gentle. Much more gentle than I can be if you do not drink your tea, Elsa. Now, come. We drink together. No. I'll telephone the police. No, no, no. I am so sorry, Elsa. You'll not telephone the police. You've spilled the tea, Elsa. The spice tea. Now I shall be forced to use my hands. My hands, Elsa. The hands that bring such marvelous music from the violin. Yeah, look at them, Elsa. Hands that want to crush you, but must do otherwise. No, no, no, no. I don't want it so much to make it gentle. No, no, you get a voice cut down. Take your hands off that woman's phone or I'll show her. So you think a bullet scares me? No, put your gun away. I must kill Elsa, and then myself. I will do it. I told you to let go of her, Cronin. Yeah, I know, but I have never obeyed orders, Lieutenant. I... You were most kind, Lieutenant. Kind? I shoot a guy and that's kind? Yes, he talked about killing me gently. He was mad. Shooting him was the gentlest way.