 Welcome, Weirdos! I'm Darren Marlar and this is Retro Radio, old-time radio in the dark, presented by 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 audio books, pulp e-books and old-time radio shows for free. That's WeirdDarkness at RadioArchives.com. Coming up, it's an episode from ABC Mystery Time, also known as Mystery Time Classics, and Masters of Mystery, and simply Mystery Time because apparently shows in the days of radio drama just could never make up their minds on show titles. Anyway, after RCA divested itself of the Blue Network in 1943 and it came under the ownership of Lifesaver Candy King Edward J. Noble, it was rebranded as ABC, the American broadcasting company. From the beginning, ABC struggled to create new programming in order to compete with the big three networks, at the time being NBC, CBS and the Mutual Network. At the same time, ABC was also trying to compete in this new arena of television. But as we all know, television was just a fad, never lasted, radio, on the other hand, is going to live forever. One way to increase its programming was for ABC to use a process touted by crooner Bing Crosby to use pre-recorded programming. To the already established big networks, only live broadcasts could hope to give the needed fidelity, but Bing demonstrated that taping could be used to produce higher quality shows as well as being easier on the talent. Bing Crosby was known to tape several episodes around his golf schedule after moving to ABC, and he moved because NBC disallowed pre-taping. Imagine saying no to Bing Crosby to an idea that would eventually become the standard for most all broadcasting. One way ABC used pre-recorded programs to increase its content library was to schedule a mystery slash thriller program every weeknight at 8.30. The lineup included Mike Malloy, Private Eye on Monday, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday it was Mystery Classics and then Police Blotter on Fridays. Not only did the programs share a theme and a time slot, but they were also each hosted by popular morning radio host Don Dowd. Mystery Classics had a couple of audience-grabbing hooks. First, it took a cue from CBS's Classic Escape program and turned to classic literature for stories to adapt. Plus, the program is also willing to pay for A-list movie talent to appear on the program. Big names included Ralph Richardson, Orson Welles, Michael Redgrave and even Sir Lawrence Olivier. Best of all for the producers, this high-grade talent would be hired for relatively cheap because the actors could tape episodes around their schedule, as Ben Crosby indicated. However, Mystery Time Classics came in a bit too late in the Golden Age of Radio to gain classic status. Tonight, it's an episode that I really couldn't find any information on except for the title. So, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights and come with me into the Weird Darkness as we listen to Mystery Time Classics from 1957 to October 1958 and Death by Proxy. This is Don Dowd, your host for Mystery Time. Back again to introduce another in ABC Radio's great Monday through Friday line-up of Mystery dramas. Every night at this time, a new and different story. Our drama tonight on Masters of Mystery, presented live from New York, is written by Jerry McGill. Listen now to the story of a man who confronts the wife for the ghost of the past, himself, as Masters of Mystery brings you Death by Proxy. I'm Jeff Cobb on the payroll of the news leader. City Death has me labeled as special feature writer, which means I get hooked for the offbeat stuff. Death by Proxy was plenty offbeat. It started in night court after Bart Lane got out of a disorderly conduct charge with a $50 fine and caught. He was a big handsome guy sunburned the color of copper. I was curious. I latched on to him and got him into a neighborhood bar. He had trouble. Jeff Cobb, you're a newspaper guy. Yeah. What's your line? Mining engineer, prospector. What were you looking for in that apartment you crashed? My wife. Oh, so that's why you slugged the guy that opened the door. No. He thought I was after his wife. He got nasty and I lost my temper. The Amazon jungle makes you jumpy. How long were you there? Five years. I got lost. And you came back and expected to find your wife in the same apartment? Yeah. I was foolish considering we'd almost called it quits before I left for South America. But you know, some women are like jungle fever. You never really get over it. It goes, but usually comes back. I gotta find her. Find out if I'm cured. How do you buy a drink, pal? Maybe I can help you find your wife. Thanks. A bartender, two more. Double. Okay. How can you help me, Jeff? Well, it's a lot harder for people to get lost in the city than in the jungles of the Amazon. You leave her any money when you went prospecting? $5,000 in joint savings and bonds. She closed the account and sold the bonds. Any chance she could have used it to get a Mexican divorce? Maybe. And you still want to find her? I was reported missing, probably dead. But you want to find her? Yeah. Okay, Bart. We won't find her here. Skip the drinks. Let's go dig the morgue file and see what gives. I took Bart Lane to the news leader office and left him in the reception room to cool his heels while I dug through the morgue file for a lead on his wife. I found it all right, but with a twist that sent me out of the reception room for a fast double check on his story. You find anything, Jeff? Yeah. Plenty. What word is she? Well, first I want to know when you got back in the States. Yesterday, Bart Lane from Rio, why? Under what name? My own name. Say, what is it? Can you prove that you're Bart Lane, the mining engineer who was lost in the Amazon jungle five years ago? Sure I can prove it by my passport. All right, let's see it. The picture doesn't look much like you anymore. Here, the jungle does things here. What's the big idea? You're dead. Dead? Yeah, dead. Killed. Oh, that's sure. Missing and presumed dead in the jungle. Not many get out once they're lost. No, no, I don't mean that. What do you mean? Here, look at this. Bart Lane, a mining engineer only recently returned from South America, was instantly killed when his car went out of control on West Highway. That's impossible. I never came back. I don't own a car. In spite of the fact that his body was partly destroyed by fire that followed the crash, the remains were positively identified by his widow Mrs. Mildred Lane of 10 Highwood Avenue. That's my wife's name, Mildred. Then you were legally dead and buried in New Long Cemetery. When did I die? May 10th, 1956. About a year ago. Yeah, now what goes? I don't know, but I'm going to find out. What was that address when Mildred was living? Oh, no, wait a minute. Hold it, you're in a spot. What do you mean I'm in a spot? Well, stop and think. Somebody was killed driving a car registered in your name, and your wife identified the body and buried it. Why? That's what I'm going to find out. Were you carrying any life insurance when you left five years ago? Yeah, 30,000. Who was the beneficiary? Mildred, my wife, but the policies must have lapsed. She could have kept up the payments. Couldn't wait seven years to have you declared legally dead. Yeah, but who was in that car? Somebody was killed. Ah, now you're getting it. If you were Bart Lane on a line, somebody else died for you by proxy. And it was probably Mildred. If it wasn't Mildred, she wouldn't have the nerve to try it, unless she may have had help. 30,000 would buy a lot of help. I got to find a talk to her. Yeah, and I'm going along for the interview, but you keep your shirt on. If you don't, you're liable to trade it in for a sheet on a slab in the morgue. And I don't mean our newspaper file. I got my car out of the garage and drove Bart Lane over to the last known address of his wife. Number 10 Highwood Avenue turned out to be a fairly plush apartment building. I questioned the switchboard operator. I'm sorry, but there isn't anyone by the name of Mrs. Mildred Lane living here. How long have you been working here? About six months. Mildred Lane's husband was supposed to have been killed in an auto accident about a year ago. She gave this address when she claimed the body. I heard about that from the girl who ran the switchboard before I took the job. What did you hear? I just heard her husband was killed right after he came back from South America. He's been lost in the jungle or something. That's the woman? What happened? Did she move out? No, she's still here. Well, under what name? Well, I'm not supposed to give out information about our tenants. How about making an exception to the rule and just giving us her new name? Well, who are you anyway? Well, I'm a reporter following up the story of her husband's death. Who is the other gentleman? Mr. Lane's dead husband. Dead husband? Oh, he's still here. No, he's not. Now, do you want to give us her new name or do you want to tell the police? She's married again. What's her husband's name? Mr. Dean. Malcolm Dean. They live in the penthouse now. What's his business? He's a builder. He has a new development out on Tenset Heights. Are they in now? Mr. Dean hasn't come in yet, but Mrs. Dean, I mean, your wife is. You know when Dean moved into this building? About two years ago, I think. I see. Thanks. Well, what do you make of it? I could mean that your wife knew this Dean guy before you died. And it could also mean that he was in on your accidental death. So what? Well, that would mean that we're dealing with two murderers, not just one. Don't give a hoax. I'm going up to her apartment. Sure, sure, but just let's play this smart. Let's get some proof and let the police handle it. Oh, well, you go up there like the prodigal, returning for the fatted calf. Like you didn't know that you're supposed to be dead. What good will that do? You might find out a lot of things. Try it. Keep your shirt on. See how she reacts, what she says, what she wants to do about it. Well, I don't know if I can carry it off. Try it. You can always call the cops and I'll be waiting right here. Well, OK, I'll try it. Yes, what is it? Hello, Milner. What is it, really? You? You're supposed to be dead. Yeah, I know. Lost in the jungle. How did you find me? Compared to getting out of the upper Amazon, it was a cinch. When did you get back in the state? Yesterday. Milner, you don't seem very glad to see me. I am. Believe me. I am, boy. It's such a shock. I thought you were dead. The report was exaggerated, as they say. Well, aren't you going to ask me in to your swank apartment? Oh, yes, of course. Come in for a moment, but... What? But it's awful. I don't know how to tell you. I'm married again. So I get it. From the new name in this place, it is all right. But I've got to talk to you. Explain, but not here, not now. Afraid of this new guy you married? Dean? Malcolm Dean? No, but he's coming home in a while. Good. I'd like to meet him. No, please, but let me talk to him first, alone. Why? Well, he explained to him, and it could be easier that way. Maybe we can work it out. Work what out? How I feel, now that I know you're alive. Oh, please, but please, if you ever love me, if you still love me. Hmm. The same gal, the same Mildred. How much time? Until... until tomorrow. Where are you staying? Nowhere. I've been looking for you ever since I landed. Do I still mean that much to you, Bart? What do you think, baby? Don't, Bart. Please, give me time. Well, well, this Dean guy must be pretty good. Not like you, Bart. Older and different. But he's very kind. I don't want to hurt him. You've changed, honey. Tell me, have you any money? I mean, enough to stay somewhere near here until I can settle things with Malcolm. Yeah. I guess I can manage to live a few days. Well, there's a motel down on the highway at the end of the street. Could you go there and wait live for me? When? Okay. Okay, Mildred. Oh, you darling. I'll save that. All right, Bart. Tell me, do any of our old friends know that you're back? Just you, honey. I wanted it to be a surprise. I'm glad. Please go now, Bart. Please. I'll call you at the motel late at night. Okay, Bart. You're all set. I told the motel manager you're expecting an important call and he'll switch it to this gallon. Thanks, Jeff. I didn't know that I want to go through with it. Why not? I don't know. It isn't the way I thought it was going to be. Well, how did you think it was going to be? Like I thought I'd want to get Mildred back at any price or killer. And how do you feel? Sick, tired, old. Almost as if I were really dead. Oh, come on. Snap out of it. You can't stay dead all your life. Why not? Look, aren't you forgetting that you didn't just die a natural death? It looks like you were murdered for your insurance. Looks like your wife and this guy, Dean, are parlaying your money into a fortune. I don't care about the money. Well, then think about the guy they must have killed to take your place. You owe him something. And I owe you a story, don't I? No, there'll be a story no matter what you do. I know enough already to be certain a crime has been committed. Now, if you don't want to help find out how and why, I'm calling the cops. Okay, you're right. Besides, I would like to know what Mildred's going to do. And I've got a pretty good notion. And I don't think we'll have long to wait. Hello, Sunset Heights Development. Malcolm. Oh, hello, Mildred. Why haven't you come home? Well, I'm busy. I told you I'd be late. You've got to come home right away. Something terrible has happened. What? I can't tell you over the phone. But I'm afraid to leave the apartment. What's happened? He is alive. He didn't die in the jungle. He's back here in the States. Found me somehow, came here just a while ago. Alone? Yes. Does he, uh... Does he know about the accident? He didn't act as if he did. How long has he been back? Only since yesterday. Where's he now? Well, I just waited him to give me a chance to talk to you first alone. He's gone to the highway motel and promised to wait until I called him later tonight. Yeah, well, good girl, good girl. I was using your head. Well, what are we going to do? What did he find out about? Well, how did he act? What did he say? Does he want to meet me? Yes. He wants to talk to you. He acted strange. Not at all surprised I married again. Well, good. That gives us time, a chance. To do what? To sound him out. Maybe buy him off. He said he had money. He looked like... Does he want you to get an annulment? Go back to him? No, he didn't say. I made him leave. Go to the motel until I can talk to you. Okay, okay, that was smart. Now, listen, you call him and get him to come up here to the development. Get your car out of the garage, pick him up at the motel. Bring him up here to the office. What if he won't take money to go away? Well, in that case, there'll have to be another accident. Now, you call him. No matter what you have to say or do, get him up here tonight. There's your call box. Take it. Well, she wants to come here. Let her come. Listen to what she has to say. I'll get out. Yes? Are you Mr. Lane? Yes, who's calling? I'm the girl. The switchboard at your wife's apartment building. Oh, yes. Look, I don't know if I should be telling you this, because I really shouldn't have been listening. But your wife called her husband. I mean her other husband, Mr. Dean, at his office. All right, miss. Why did you call me? Mr. Dean, I mean your wife is going to call you. Yes, I know that. But she's going to get you to go up to a new development on Sunset Heights and meet Mr. Dean. Good. But why are you calling and telling me this? Because... Because I think if you don't take money to go away... Once in a blue moon, you run into a yarn that has more twists than the rope that hangs a lot of people who think they can get away with murder. When Bart Lane told me what the switchboard operator had passed on to him, I knew it was time to call him the long arm of the law. But before I could persuade Lane... Never mind the cops, that'll be Mildred. Let me handle this my way. Now, a chance, Lane. If you go with Mildred, it's an even bet somebody will be killed. Maybe. Hello? Hello, boy. Listen, I just talked to Malcolm at the office. What did he say? Well, naturally, it was a terrible shock. How did he take the news I'm alive? Oh, boy. So kind. So understanding. What's he gonna do about it? He wants to see you at his office. Meet you and talk to you. I'm willing? When? I'll come for you in my car. Wait for me on the highway outside the motel. I'll be there in ten minutes. All right, Mildred. I'll be waiting. Ten minutes. Okay, Bart. You've made your date. Now, let me make mine. Who are you gonna call? The Homicide Squad. Just in case Mildred and her new hubby decide to kill you a second time. How much farther, Mildred? I was just ahead. In the woods along the ridge. What are you stopping for? Boy, let's talk for a moment. Why, what's there to talk about? You? I? What really happened? I got lost. Died, remember? I mean, did you find what you went after? You mean the gold? Yes. Did you find any? A little. Much? Enough? What do you care? You seem to have done pretty well. Not really. Malcolm is rich. He's real estate development and speculation. But that isn't what I'm getting at. What are you getting at? Oh, Bart, you know. Couldn't we try again? Go away out of the country far away. What about Malcolm? I can handle him. He wouldn't say anything. We might even be able to get some money out of him. If you haven't enough. You'd do anything for money, wouldn't you, Mildred? Bart, don't say that. I'm only thinking of you. Oh, how you must have suffered all these years. Stop it, honey, you're breaking my heart. Oh, Bart, don't you believe me? No, Mildred, he doesn't. Malcolm! Yes. I saw your headlights from the office. I saw you park here, in fact. I thought I'd come over and see how you two were getting on. Great. I gather you've got an earful. Yes, yes, quite an earful, ladies. And don't bother to get out of the car. We're going on from here. Where? Well, I want to show you our new development. It's quite interesting. We have several excavations dug already for the pouring of the concrete. One of them will make a very nice grave. Malcolm, you said... Yes, too much has been said, my dear. Now start the motor. I'll get in the back of the car. Wait a minute. What's the idea of a gun? Let's have it on the line. It's really very simple, Lane. You're a dead man. You died in an automobile accident over a year ago. Yeah. So I found out. Malcolm, he knows. Yes, I suspected as much. I think he came here to blackmail us. Lead us white as the price of silence. Rondie and dead wrong. And it doesn't matter. What about Mildred, our loving wife? I haven't quite made up my mind. Malcolm, I was only leaving him on, trying to find out if he had any money. Oh, well, that was greedy, Mildred. Foolish. But you've always been greedy, haven't you? Never quite satisfied with what you have. His insurance wasn't enough. How well he knows you, my dear. And by the way, Mildred, who is the guy you identified who died in a car in my place? Go ahead, tell him, Mildred. It doesn't matter. You did it. You arranged it. Pick up that hitchhiker, make the car burn the body. Oh, so that's how it was done. Yes. So now let's go over to the side of my first model house. Shall we? Being built with your insurance. Let's not, Dean. Malcolm, behind you. That's right, Dean. Drop that gun. You. And without turning around. That was smart. I'd hate to have to shoot anybody in the back. You better get out of that car, Bart. You died in one last year, remember? Yeah. Thanks, Jeff. Where are the cops? Oh, I thought they might be a little tardy, so I tagged along behind when you drove off with Mildred. They'll be here any minute now. Bart, help me. Believe me, I didn't kill that hitchhiker. Malcolm did. He planned the whole thing from the very beginning. It was his idea. It won't do, my dear. Murder isn't like your kind of marriage. We're in this together, Mildred. Until death do us part. This is Don Dowd again, your host for Mystery Time. You have just heard Masters of Mystery live from New York. Tonight's play, Murder by Proxy, was written by Jerry McGill and produced by Clark Andrew in association with Ronald Dawson and Robert Arthur. Featured in tonight's drama were Everett Sloan, George Petrie, Kathleen Cordell and Lyle Pseudo. Next Wednesday and every Wednesday night, another presentation of Masters of Mystery. Tomorrow night, Mystery Time brings you Mystery Classics presenting Death Rides the Storm by John West. Be with us then, won't you? Don Dowd, your host for Mystery Time. See you tomorrow night. This program came to you live from New York. This is the ABC Radio Network. Thanks for listening to this week's Retro Radio, Old Time Radio in the Dark. If you haven't done so yet, be sure to subscribe or follow the podcast so you don't miss future episodes. And if you like the show, please, share it with someone you know who also loves Old Time Radio and Pulp Audio. If you want to hear even more, drop an email to WeirdDarkness at RadioArchives.com and get an instant reply with links to download full-length Pulp Audio books, Pulp Ebooks and Old Time Radio shows absolutely free. That's WeirdDarkness at RadioArchives.com. I'm Darren Marlar. I'll see you next time for Retro Radio, Old Time Radio in the Dark.