 The makers of Mars coconut bar and all those other good Mars candy bars invite you through the creaking door for another thrilling inner sanctum mystery. Tonight, the smile of death starring Larry Hayes. Good evening friends of the creaking door. This is your host to welcome you once again into the inner sanctum. Come on in. Say, are you busy? We are. Yes, sir. It's been a week of corpse-packed, always-say-die frenzied activities that even had our zombies complaining about their blood pressure. To make our horror complete, some enterprising creep even scheduled a revival meeting. But the project somehow never got off the ground. I guess that's because some people just don't revive. Yes, there's thrilling mystery awaiting in the inner sanctum. But first, this is Alan Z. Anthony making up a little mystery about another thriller. It's something delicious, refreshing, and deeply satisfying. It starts out way up in a tall tree bathed in sunshine and ocean breezes. Know what it is? Well, here's another clue. When it's freshly shredded, it's snowy white, juicy rich, delicious. Yes, you guessed it, coconut. And when it's in a Mars coconut bar, it's always the finest Philippine coconut, the very best. Yes, that's the answer, the perfect answer to your crave for coconut. All wrapped up thick in deep, dark chocolate. The Mars coconut bar, a new taste thrill. And it's still a mystery how any candy bar can taste that good. And now, for tonight's proof that some men diligently build their own gallows. Our builder and candidate for extinction is Archie Davis, a young man with a blind spot that he couldn't quite erase without erasing himself. Our workshop is the pageant hotel. An ancient ramshackle hotel where even death can sleep the night for $1.50, payable in advance. Payable to Archie Davis, Nightroom Clerk. On a job like mine, your world gets as small and shabby as the wallpapered lobby. You wait and check in the characters and creeps. You wait and you watch. And then the desk bell rings bingo one night. An old man's come calling, stiffen the knees and gray in the face like a walking corpse. But elegant, the aristocrat on the wrong side of town. I want a room for the night. Okay, sign here. Ruben Small, is it? Yes, Ruben Small. That'll be $1.50 payable in advance. $1.50, here you are. Room 313, here's your key. Uh, young man. What? Do you have a hotel safe? Young? This portfolio, I'd like to check it. It has some value. Okay, I'll lock it up. A receipt, please. Receive? Oh, sure. Receive. Here you are. One of the staircases over there. Room 313 is two up then left and down the end of the hall. Okay. You have no elevator. That's been out of order three years now. Climb too tough. Yes, I'm not well, my heart. Oh. Mal, try one step at a time and rest on the landing. Yes, yes, I suppose. Can I summon you from my room? The sign behind me reads no room service. But in an emergency, if it's a matter of distress. If it's a buzz, the switchboy, it's an emergency like that. A cardiac in room 313. And a portfolio to be locked up in the safe. A gold-tooled leather portfolio that makes your fingers do a nervous dance. You sneak a look, and your girl sneaks it with you. Archie, you shouldn't. Shut up, Iggy. Look. Yeah. I've blown a fuse myself. Count that, baby. Archie, no. Oh, I had fun. There's no law against only counting other people's money. I... I can't count it. That much money frightens me. It's indecent, huh? I count 20,000, baby. So much in cash? Lush green cash. Put it in the safe. You can't lock a dream up, baby. Oh, Archie, stop staring at it. Stop torturing yourself. Torture? Baby, I'm on a golden horse riding in the sky, so where's the torture? Get it out of your mind. To do that, I'd have to go out of my mind. You... you mean to steal it? An old guy signed in to die in room 313, so I could be rich. An old guy signed in... Ruben Small. A phonious name ever invented. In the morning, there'll be a corpse in room 313 named Ruben Small. Why are you so sure? Are you sure he's going to die? I know. Because my luck's been long overdue. Archie, not murder. Not murder. He's going to die his own way, Irene. His own way? See that red button flashing on the switchboard? It's room 313. It's an emergency. It's death buzzing me to say that room 313 is checking out. It was death calling from room 313. I could see it standing over the old iron bed, putting the final touch on a man with hardly enough breath left to say goodbye. Young man, come closer. Please, I'm dying. You're dead. There are things to tell you. I don't want to hear. I know all I want to know. You're alias Ruben Small. You're something that crept in out of the night with a gray mustache and a cane. A dollar fifty. You just about had enough to pay for a death bed. My portfolio... I never saw it. You left it in the cab. You dropped it down a sewer. What portfolio? Mister, you must be kidding me. All right, Irene. Grab the portfolio and run. Archie, I can't. Now, you board a train for upstate of... Rose Day away, your grandmother. No. You're visiting your grandmother until it's okay for me to join you. I know what goes here at the hotel. You guard that portfolio with your life, baby. It's our whole future. It's wedding bells and a terry cloth rodent of mutants. People calling me sir while I laugh out loud in their faces. You've lost all conscience. Lose yours. It's one luxury we can never again afford. Even with twenty grand. Now, start running. Irene obeyed. Now, the night drags. A second at a time. A minute at a time. And the longest night of your life. You wait for the morning discovery of a corpse in 313. You wait. And the fog in your mind gets heavier. Your nerve begins to go and... You begin to imagine things. You see a red button flashing on the switchboard. Flashing. From room 313. From room 313. A corpse in 313 is... Calling for room, sir. And room 313 back for a second look at death. Back to see how a dead man could call the switchboard. You took a long time coming, sir. What? You think you took a long time coming? Oh, I was away from the desk. How did you get in here, lady? Through the lobby and up the stairs. As you say, you were away from your desk. Oh. What's funny? You. The way you crept in here with your face white and your knees trembling. Did you really think a corpse was telephoning for room service? A corpse? Don't pretend now. Your face and behavior betray you. You knew my husband was dead when I rang for room service. He was your husband? June and December. Don't say it. He was Martin Bruce. I'm Jessica Bruce. And your name is... Archie Davis. Why didn't you report my husband's death at once? I see you're not going to incriminate yourself. Let me. The valuables my husband left for safekeeping. Were you hoping to keep... He didn't leave any valuables for safekeeping. No. It's your good fortune that I went through my late husband's pocket before the police did. Why is it my good fortune? It is. A receipt issued by you for a portfolio my husband checked. Okay. I'll give back the portfolio, but I can't right away. I didn't ask for it back right away or ever. No. I'm glad you stole it. It gives us a common purpose. What common purpose? Profit, Archie. Your profit and my profit. His death can be worth $200,000 to his widow. Oh, is that what's to be our common purpose? Yes. That's how you keep the $20,000. Give me details. His insurance policy has a double indemnity clause. Provides against accidental death in any manner, shape or form. Yeah, but a bum-heart killed him in bed. No. No, his car skidded and crashed through a guard rail. He died of drowning at the bottom of a river. You expect to stage it like that? I expect you to stage it like that. You registered here under an assumed name? Ruben Small. Nobody knows Martin Bruce stayed here, died here. He met his death just as I described it. You want me to do a lot for $20,000? Oh, Martin's dead anyhow. You just changed the story of his death. You lose my way. Where's his car? Around the corner. I followed him here to the hotel in it. Lift him up, Archie. Yeah. All right. Jessica. Look at his face. So? The grin. That's the way his mouth rings. No, no. He wasn't grinning when I found him before. Archie, don't be hysterical. He didn't die with that grin. There was pain in his face. The agony of a man whose heart blew out, I saw. The true thing is utter nonsense. A dead man died. But you'll believe it. He's changed expression since we met Miss Romeo and me. Since listening to her scheme. He's grinning now. As if... As if... As if he knows... The joke's gonna be on us. Now friends, this is your host with a personal suggestion. For you, if you're the right person. And you are if you like coconut. And particularly the right person if you're particular about the quality of coconut.