 Hello, I hope I haven't kept you waiting. Yes, this is the crime club. I'm the librarian. Epitaph for Lydia. Yes, we have that crime club story for you. Come right over. Take the easy chair by the window. Comfortable? The book is on this shelf. Here it is. Epitaph for Lydia by Virginia Roth. The exciting story of a missing person who was found by death. Let's look at it under the reading lamp. It is late evening in San Francisco, and in the spacious living room of an impressive house on Lombard Street, a party is in full swing. A tall, keen-eyed man, bored by the noisy music and the chattering people, retreats to the comparative quiet of an adjoining room. Attracted by several modernistic paintings on the wall, he steps over to one for a closer look. Do you like it? You're Michael Dunn as the detective, aren't you? Well, I'm really an architect, but... You were pointed out to me when you came in. I'm Lydia Courtney. You don't know me. Well, no, but... Do you like modernistic art? Yes. Well, the most moderns look like exercise and children's finger painting. This one, for instance... Rooftops at sunset. Yes, at least that's what the artist calls it. To me, it looks like a hangover at sunrise. Now, there's one over here. There's possibilities. Here it is. Just a simple study of some sand dunes. What's the matter, Miss Courtney? I'm afraid I don't feel very well. Can I get you anything? No, I'll be all right. It's just a horrible picture. Miss Courtney, I think you'd better sit down. Or right over here on the sofa. No, I'll be all right. Really, I'm feeling much better now. Fine. Miss Courtney. Miss Courtney. I knew she'd faint. Lucky I grabbed her before she fell. Now, onto the sofa. Do you like it? What happened? She fainted. The sun for him shall move. But none shall know. I've forgotten. That's odd. She should quote from that old ballad. She was just delirious. She didn't know what she was saying. I guess Margie doesn't mean anything either. Margie? By the way, I think I knew you from someplace, don't I? Yes, I run a bookstore, Mr. Dundas. I think you've been in it a few times. Oh, that's right. I bought some books and had them sent. Your name is Bond, isn't it? Yes, Sally Bond. Tell me how'd you burn her at your wrist? Oh, there are some grease slatted on me. I see. Sally. Yes, Lydia. I didn't say anything today. No, no, dear. Did I give you a lift home? That won't be necessary. Mr. Dundas, our escorts are somewhere in the crowd. They'll drive us back. I see. Just a suggestion, Miss Bond. Yes? I think it'd be wise for you to stay at Miss Courtney's home tonight. I will. You see, we live together. Don't worry about me, Mr. Dundas. After tonight, I think I'll be all right. Of course. Lydia's going to be just fine. I guess you're right, medieval. Puzzles seem to pursue me, don't they? I could all party for relaxation and upbounces are prettier problems I've come across in years. A painting, a song, a woman who faints, and that poetry she quoted. Am I boring you? I get it. That look in your eyes. Lumberware. Time for a rendezvous. But it's 1.30 in the morning. Okay, okay. Stop pawing your whiskers your way. I'll let you out. Come on. Up we go. Not a bad night. Peaceful, nice moon. Okay, dad, I guess... Wait a minute. Those were gunshots. Come on. It should be, it should be somewhere around here. So when I was telling you about me, Hittable... Lydia Courtney. And she's dead. Not Inspector, that's all I know. That's the whole story. Can't be. Doesn't make sense, Mike. It's crazy. Crazy, but true. Did your boys find anything that might help? No, no. See, what do you think Lydia Courtney was doing around here? I think she was on her way to see me. You see, when she spoke to me at the party, I had the feeling she wanted to talk to me about something that worried her. Yes. Then she fainted, and when she came to, the time for opening up at pass. Sally Bond was around. Anybody else? No, their escort, Sally's brother Bill and a fellow named Jay Stanton, were among the crowd in the living room. I was introduced to them before I left. I see. Well, we'll check them all. And we'll begin with Sally Bond. You seem very surprised to learn of your friend's death, Miss Bond. Well, I, uh, I've already heard about it, Inspector. How? Neither the radio nor the papers have broken the story. My, my brother Bill here told me. Oh, brother Bill told you. Yes. And how did you know brother Bill? Well, I'm a special feature writer for the Clarion. I'm doing a series on crime, and I happen to be at a nearby precinct when the flash came in. Uh-huh. Naturally, I rushed over to tell Sally. Naturally. Um, mind if I ask a few questions, Inspector? No, Mike. Go right ahead. Sally, what time did you and Lydia get home last night? About 12. I thought you were going to keep your eye on her. Well, I, I was upset. I took a sleeping pill and gave one to Lydia. Apparently, she didn't take hers. She, she must have slipped out after I fell asleep. I see. You know what was bothering her? No. All I can tell you is that for the past three days, ever since Tuesday night, she was just a bundle of nerves. What happened Tuesday night? I don't know. Lydia went out at eight o'clock. I heard her take her car out of the garage and drive off. When she got back, I couldn't say I, I was asleep. And on Wednesday morning, you noticed something wrong? Yes, Lydia was very jumpy. I asked her where she'd been the night before. She wouldn't tell me. Do you know who might have been with her? No. It wasn't brother Bill, was it? No, it wasn't. Well, where were you that night? Well, well, I was over at Jay Stanton's house. We were, we were playing gin till about one o'clock. Then I went home. Well, Sally, does anyone else live here with you? Well, our handyman, Al Kemper occupies the room over the garage. Well, perhaps he can tell us when Lydia returned Tuesday night. Will you take us to him, please? Yes, of course. Follow me. I inspect it. Yeah? You mind if I run along? I have to check in early at the office. Okay, but just remember to stay within reach. You understand? Yes. All right, Sally, let's go. Is this Lydia's car, Sally? Yes, Mr. Dundas. How about calling the handyman? Certainly. He may still be asleep. Excuse me, I'll run up and get him. Inspector. Yeah? Take a look at the bumper and the front fender. They've both been straightened. And the fender's been painted quite recently. Mmm. Inspector! Yes? Al Kemper is gone. Lydia dead? Hard to believe, Bill. Sally, no? Yes, Jay. Well, kid, the police will probably hound the life out of her. Uh-huh. They're doing a good job of it when I left him. Mm-hmm. Uh, Jay. Yes? I, uh, I wonder if you'd do me a favor. Sure. What is it? Well, it seems that something happened Tuesday night. I mean, Lydia was out with someone, and that person may be the leading suspect. Well... I told the police that I was playing gin with you till 1 o'clock. What? They asked me where I was. I couldn't tell them. I was just cruising around in my car that night. But, Bill... You've got to back me up, Jay. You've got to. You're putting me on an awful spot. I know. I know. But I just said the first thing that popped into my head. Now I've got to stick to it. I don't know. It's only for me, Jay, for Sally. Well... You will? Okay. Thanks, Jay. Thanks a lot. I'll never forget this. Never. Just one thing before you go, Bill. What's that? If I find out you're involved in Lydia's death, I'll hand you over to the police so fast it'll make your head spin. Well, here you are, Inspector. Yeah. Hey, this is quite a house, Stan. What's it got, Mike? Looks like it's all glass, practically. Rather an extreme functional design, plenty of light and air. A regular goldfish bowl. Oh, hollowed on us. Come in. Thanks. Stan, and this is Inspector Prevost at the place. How do you do? How are you? I've been rather expecting you. Yeah? How's that? Bill Barn called me a little while ago. He told me of Lydia's death. Oh, he did, eh? I wonder if there's anyone he hasn't told? Well, I was a very close friend of Lydia's, as well as her attorney. I guess he thought I should know. Uh-huh. Stan, we've been told by Sally Barn that Lydia had been acting clearly lately. Do you know why? No. We all commented on it, but she wouldn't tell anyone what was bothering her. I see. By the way, Stanton, where were you last Tuesday night? Oh, right here. Bill dropped in early in the evening, and we talked, played cards. He left about, uh, oh, one o'clock. Mm-hmm. Stanton, did Lydia make a will? Yes. Would you like to see it? Even you have it with you. Well, not exactly. It's in my safe. You see, this is my office as well as my home. Oh, well, you probably remember the contents of the will. Tell me, who benefits by Lydia's death? Well, outside of certain small bequeaths where the bulk of the estate goes to Sally Barn. The idea. I told you I wanted to catch a little shot. I am dead. I know. What is this again? After I left you, I decided to talk to that girl again. I thought maybe she'd gone to see you. No. Inspector. Yes? There's a chance she went down to the bookstore she runs. And maybe... Yes? Better drive over here and pick me up. I want to go down there with you. It's funny, Mike. The door to the store is open, and yet nobody's here. Listen, wait. What was that? Quick, Inspector. The door behind the desk. All right. There, Inspector. On the floor near the table. Sally. Oh, Mr. Dundas, Inspector. Take it easy, kid. Yes. What happened, Sally? I came down to the store. I'd just taken off my hat when I... I heard a noise in the stock room. Yes. I opened the door. Someone standing behind it hit me. Over the head. That's all I can remember. I see. Probably got into the rear window. Sally, why did you come down here? Well, on Wednesday, Lydia gave me a sealed envelope. She didn't tell me what was in it. All she said was that I should keep it for her down here. If anything happened to her, I was to open it and read what was inside. Then I was to decide what to do. Where did you put it? In the top middle drawer of my desk. Inspector, will you see if it's there? Right. It's gone, Mike. Sally, we've been informed that you are virtually the sole heir to Lydia's estate. Oh. You don't seem at all surprised. No, I'm not. You see, several years ago I happened to save Lydia's life in an automobile accident. Well, Lydia was very grateful. She wanted me to give up my job and come to live with her. I told her I hated being idle so she loaned me some money and I bought this store. I suppose she thought she hadn't done enough for me. That's why she left me everything. Well, after all, you saved her life. Uh, one other thing. Yes? That burn on your wrist. You said some grease splattered on it, but it hardly have happened like that. It's in one solid area, not spotted. You're right. On Wednesday morning at breakfast, Lydia was reading the newspaper. Just when I was handing her some coffee, she gave a stark and jostled my hand. The coffee spilled on my wrist. Huh? You say she was reading the paper? Yes. Is that paper still in the house? Probably. We usually let them accumulate for a week before throwing them out. Come on, Inspector. I think this is the break we've been waiting for. Here they are, Mr. Dundas. The papers for the past week. Thanks, Sally. And now let's see if there's the... Here we are. Here we are, Inspector. Wednesday. Good. Now to find the page with the darkest and biggest coffee stream. Let's see. Ah, now. Here it is. Not good to startle there. United Nations and Special Session Dry Goods Convention. Urge it. Oh, this must be the one. Girl missing. Oh, what does this say, Mike? Mrs. Thomas Casen of 624A Fly Shacker Avenue reported to the Bureau of Missing Persons that her niece, Margie, 14, left home last night and is missing. The girl left her house at about half past 10 following a dispute with her aunt. A search has been instituted by the authorities. There's a picture too, Margie Casen. Yeah. Yeah, the missing Margie. But what do you think... Oh, wait a minute, Inspector. I've just had a brainstorm. Huh? That ballad Lydia quoted, it just came to me. It goes, Many a one for him shall moan, but none shall know where he is gone. Over his white bones when they are bare, the wind shall blow forevermore. Well, does that mean anything to you, Mike? You bet it does. It means that Margie's aunt is going to have two unexpected visitors. Come on, Inspector. Why don't you two guys beat it? Go on, let me alone. But Mrs. Casen, we want to talk to you about your missing niece, Margie. Margie? She ain't missing. Go on, get out of here. I don't think she knows what she's talking about, Mike. Maybe she does, and maybe... Wait a minute, get her out of the stock of liquor on that table. Yeah, scotch. Rye. That's her bourbon. That stuff must have cost us all fortune. And where did she get the money for it? This place makes tobacco road look like the Waldorf. Inspector. Yeah? Take a look at that purse she's holding. It's just bulging. Yeah. Mrs. Casen, may I look at your pocketbook? No. I shall let you look at it. Because I want to look inside. Hey, give me the purse. I thought so. It's stuffed with bills and big ones at that. Must be about a thousand dollars here. Yeah, that's right. Okay, Mrs. Casen, where'd you get it? Come on, come on, talk. Someone sent it to me. Who? I don't know. It came in the mail Thursday with a letter. Have you still got the letter? No, I tore it up and threw it away. Do you remember what the letter said? Yeah. It said I shouldn't worry about my niece. And if I didn't ask questions, I could keep the money. Oh, so you were smeared with some dough when you called off the search, huh? So what? The key was nothing but a little cramp anyway. What are you doing? Easy, easy, Inspector. Hey, Mrs. Casen, what do you think Margie was going when she ran away? Uh, probably to her friend Betty's, so she always went when we had a fight. I see. And she never reached her friend's house, did she? No. Where does Betty live? Uh, over 2142 Wulwona Avenue, near the beach. There's a vacant sand lot on that block. Inspector, we've got a job to do. A job of digging. You've got a lot of men here, Mike, but they haven't found anything so far. Keep them at it, Inspector. I am sure. What's the matter? A bit of luck, I think. Look at that mongrel dog over at the corner. Yeah. He's digging in the sand like men. Huh? Come on. Right? Boy, they must run away, Mike. That's okay. I got my eye on where he was digging. Ah, here it is. Do you see the hole? Uh-huh. Okay. Give me your shovel. Right. Here you are. Thanks. Now pray. Maybe it was only a bone the mutt was after. Maybe. Yeah. Do you want me to take over, Mike? No. Yes, I can. Inspector, look. Good lord. Poor kid. Under the sand. And over her white bones when they are bare. The wind blows. Did you get the coroner's report on Margie Inspector? Yeah, Mike. And it was just as you figured the kid was dead before she was buried. Uh-huh. That's fairly easy now to reconstruct what happened. It is? Not for me. The only conclusion which fits all the facts is that Lydia's car hit Margie and killed her. Terrified, Lydia and whoever was with her buried the body in the sand. Why? After all, it certainly wasn't deliberate. It wasn't worked. It's true. But a conviction. At least a reckless driving charge is fairly probable. Okay, go on. Well, Lydia couldn't stand what she'd done. That's why she gave that sealed envelope to Sally. Probably contained a full account of what happened. Kind of a confession to lighten her guilt, huh? Yes. By the way, how did the killer know about it? Probably through Lydia herself. Lydia? Yes. She must have tried to forestall her murder by threatening the killer with disclosure by means of the envelope. But the killer was desperate. And made sure Lydia would never talk. Exactly. Hello. Inspector Prevost speaking. What? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. He has, hey? Well, of course. Certainly, certainly bring him down right away. Mike, a couple of the boys just picked up the handyman, Al Kemper. They did? Yeah, and get this. One of the men recognized him as an old con with a record as long as you're armed. All right, Kemper. Come on. Now stop stalling. Why did you run away? Well, hardly this morning when Miss Byn's brother came to see her, I was out in the yard near the kitchen. Yeah? The window was open, and I heard him tell his sister about Miss Courtney being dead. I figured me with my record it wasn't healthy to stick around. Get away from him. I'm not Italian. The yard! Just, uh, just a minute, Inspector. Kemper, where were you last Tuesday night? Well, I was in a neighborhood bar until about 11.30. Then I beat it home and hit the hay. Did you hear Miss Courtney? Yeah. When she drove in, she woke me up. Was there anyone with her? Yeah. Who was it? I don't know. I heard Miss Courtney's voice, but whoever was with her was whispering. Did you hear what they said? Well, not much of it. Miss Courtney was scared. She kept saying something was all wrong. The other person kept telling her she had to keep them outshuttered about it. Anything else? No. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. There was just one other thing. Yes? The other person said something kind of funny. Let me see. Yeah, yeah. I could never stand it. Never. I'd go insane in a month. That's just what was said. Oh, that very much to go on, isn't it, Mike? On the contrary, Inspector. I think it's the key to the whole case. The key? Yes. Get Sally sent in and bill down here right away. But forward. I'm going to trap the murderer. OK, OK. Quiet, please. Quiet. All right, Mike. Thanks, Inspector. I called you all down here because there's been a new development in the case, and I'll need your help. Now, will you follow me, please? Oh, I don't see any sense. Where are we going? Upstairs, Brother Bill. Hurry up. Come on. Get in the elevator. OK. That's a tight squeeze, but I think we can make it. There we are. All right, Inspector. Close the door and take a step right. You all right, Sally? Yes. OK. OK. All right. You all right, Sally? Yes, Jay. Well, what's the matter, Inspector? I don't know, Mike. Mm, funny. We seem to be stuck. It's all fine, Hattie-Ado, between floors, too. Keep your shirt on, Brother Bill. It's funny. It won't start. Don't worry, folks. We'll probably get going in a minute. I, uh, I'd like to get out. Yeah, how about it? I said I'd like to get out, please. I can't stay in here. I can't. Please. You don't understand. You don't understand. I'm afraid I do, Stanton. You murdered Lydia, didn't you? Yes. Yes. I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. All right, Inspector. You can take us down now. Ah, you missed me, didn't you, Mahittable? Mike, will you put that darn cat down? Relax, Inspector. Relax. Relax, he says. Don't you think it's time that you answered a few questions? Okay. Excuse me, Mahittable. What do you want to know, Inspector? How did you figure out Jay Stanton's claustrophobia, the spirit of being hemmed in? Well, first of all, when we visited Stanton, his house seemed strange. Almost all glass. You yourself called it a goldfish bowl. Yes. That's right, so I did. Then he had his office in his home, not in a building where he'd have to take an elevator every day. Uh-huh. Of course, at the time we saw him, it didn't mean too much. It was just odd. Yeah, but when were you sure? When Kemper told us what he'd overheard. As you recall, the person with Lydia said, I could never stand it. Never. I'd go insane in a month. Yes, but how could you know what he referred to? Well, obviously, Lydia and Stanton were talking of what they had done to Margie. The only way Stanton could terrify her into silence was by pointing out a probable jail sentence that they were caught. Uh-huh. Thus, what Stanton said could only refer to what jail would mean to him. He would go insane because of his claustrophobia. I see. And when you tied that up to his glass house, having his office there, you had him all wrapped up. Yes. Oh, what's the matter, my edible? Ah, rubbing your whiskers again, huh? Uh-huh. You're cassin' over. Now, I'll let you out. Mike, will you stop bothering with that cat? Sorry, Inspector. There are some things which are much more important than crime. And so closes tonight's crime club book, Epitaph for Lydia, based on a story by Virginia Roth. James Irthine did the radio adaptation, Roger Bauer produced and directed. Sidney Smith played Mike, Jack McBride was the Inspector, Julie Stevens was Sally, Ted Osborn was heard as Jay, Mason Adams was Bill, Breiner Rayburn was Lydia, and Brad Barker was may hit a bell the... Oh, I beg your pardon. Hello? I hope I haven't kept you waiting. Yes, this is the crime club. I'm the librarian. Yes, come over a week from tonight. Good. We have the exciting story of a crown that rested easily on the head of death. It's called The Corpse, War a Wig, by George Bagby. In the meantime? Well, in the meantime, there is a new crime club book available this week, and every week, that book stores everywhere. Yes, it's available now. Fine. And we'll look for you next week. This program came from New York. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.