 Standard of California, on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard station throughout the West, invites you to let George do it. The corpse that took a powder, another adventure of George Valentine. Personal notice, danger is my stock and trade. If life's tossing curves you can't handle, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. Dear Mr. Valentine, they say that if you think about suicide twice, you won't go through with it. But I thought of suicide over and over again. Tomorrow evening I'm going through with it. Unless by then you can find some way of freeing me from this horror and the fear that's driving me to this. Hurry, please hurry, Mr. Valentine. I need somebody to help so badly. But he's helped so badly, I'm desperate. And it's signed Marsha Palmer, after an apartment's foray. All right, Proxy, we better get on our bikes. Wait a minute, George. Well, don't you think this note sounds, well, a little hysterical, offbeat? And that's what I meant, come to think of it, let's change that to motorcycle. Well, I meant something else. Why don't we telephone the Afton apartment? Tell the young lady just to stay put till we get over there. Uh-uh, Angel, too much of a chance. Suppose we aren't persuasive enough, it might rush things along. Well, still I... It may not be easy to explain a great horror or fear in so many words on the phone. Yeah, well, maybe you're right. So come on, Proxy, there's only one way to tell. Excuse me, Mother. Oh, you nearly frightened me out of my way. Sorry, we just wanted to get to one of those bells. Oh. Funny how you fall into a routine mess. First, I shine up the mailboxes in the vestibule. Then I work on the brass around the buzzard. Yeah, well, that's a very nice system, but... A little intelligence doesn't hurt, even if you're only a scrub woman. Oh, no, true, words were ever spoken. What was that apartment number again, George? Of course, I haven't always done this kind of work. I wouldn't be doing it now if I weren't at liberty. But when you've got a job to do, you do it the best you know how. Yes, all right, Mother. But how about letting us at Marsha Palmer's Bell? Miss Palmer? That's what the gentleman said. I've been worried about that girl the last two days. Worried? Why? Oh, you know how it is with people's appearances. You can always tell. She's afraid of something. Yes, sir, afraid. Well, we'll try to take care of that. Which one of these bells do we ring? No, you don't have to press the bell. Just take the elevator up. It sells service. It's the third floor, 3A. I'm or should be glad to see friends, of course. 3A? Hey, are you sure it's 3A? Young man, I haven't worked here for a long time. I have. I should know where the tenants live. Of course, I'm only a shrub woman. All right, all right, sorry. 3A it is. What's the matter, George? Nothing. I just think more than ever we ought to hurry. Maybe Miss Palmer has thought of suicide once too often. Here we are, George. 3A. Yeah, she's just gotta be in books. Well, that's a good sign. I heard somebody moving inside. Good. Hello. Oh, uh, Miss Palmer at home? I have the slightest idea. What? Well, I've been trying to work up enough nerve to find out that dirty thing myself. Well, you certainly should be in a position to know this is her apartment, isn't it? Huh? Look, did I meet you people somewhere with Marsha here at my place at the party? And I would have, I would have. Is this your place? Well, that's what the lead says. Uh, the name is Glenn Stratton. I'm a commercial artist. When I work. Well, where does Marsha Palmer live? Right over my head, just like an angel. Pardon 4A. Sorry, it seems we've got the wrong information. There's nothing wrong, is there? I've been worried about Marsha lately. She hasn't seen herself. Yeah, I know. Afraid of something. That's exactly it. Come on, let's get upstairs, booksie. Oh, if you see her, old man, would you tell her that her persistence shooter would love to have dinner with her? The charge will be a dollar for ten words, Mr. Stratton. Oh, all right. Come on, honey, no use waiting for the elevator. Mr. Stratton is quite a boy. Any minute you expect him to step back into Esquire. Yeah, that's right. I wonder why Mother, down in the vestibule, gave us a bum steer about the apartment number. If anybody, she should know where people live in this place. Now let's be charitable and say she's slightly pixelated. This must be it here, ain't it? Try it again. Obviously Marsha hasn't any fear of the outside world. The door's open. Ms. Palmer? Let's try the living room. Did you say living room, Brooksie? Geez. And that stuff all over the front of her isn't ready. Oh, George, maybe we better... I'm Brooksie, no touch. But I... This is a deal for the police. Anyway, she was considerate enough to leave a note right here by the gun. Oh, what does it say? Please forgive me. I hope this doesn't hurt anybody too much. But I really can't go on any longer. Marsha. Oh, maybe if we'd come sooner. She must have a telephone somewhere around here. Usually they belong on desks. Oh, maybe it's in the bedroom. Oh, if we only knew what she meant by the fear that was driving her to this. There's a lot of things we don't know about Marsha Palmer. There's the phone on the bed table. I'm gonna explain this to Lieutenant Raleigh. Hello, Raleigh's office, please. This is Valentine. Seems simple enough to explain. And you're all through somehow, you don't believe? Oh, hello, Raleigh. Yeah, me. I'm at the Afton Apartments, 45 Lorraine. Yeah, I know you're happy to know where I am. Now look, a client of mine, Marsha Palmer's committed suicide. Okay, okay, I know it's a big town and you can't go poking into every suicide, but... Oh, sure, I could report it through the ordinary channels. But believe me, there's something off-beat about this case that... Okay, if you don't want to bother, I'll just take care of this myself. Okay. Well, I guess we can expect her with tenant books. Good. Now let's get inside and see what we can find around here. I don't think I'd like to look at her again if I can help her. Just take it easy, Bruxy. I don't think you're gonna have to look at her. What do you mean? She isn't there. But that's impossible. I know. She couldn't have just walked out of here. And the note's gone. Oh, Raleigh's gonna love this. Well, anyway, the gun is still here. There's something I'd like to know right now, Bruxy. What do you mean, George? Do I or don't I have a client? Well... And if I do, where is she? Dead or alive? Oh, hey, you. You're the janitor here, aren't you? I'm the superintendent here, if that's what you mean. Oh, I'm sorry, Chief. Not that I believe anything like this happened, but did you notice Ms. Palmer leave the building within the last few minutes? Oh, the model? Oh, whatever she was. Did you see her? No, and I've been working on this loan for the last half hour. And if she did, I certainly would have... Young lady, did you say whatever she was? Skip it, Chief. And did you see anyone else come out carrying, say, a large bundle and driving off with it? Nobody. This is a very quiet time of the day around here. I see. Hey, look, who are you people, anyway? Say, I want to talk to that elderly lady who cleans the halls for you. And have you understand that I do every stitch you work around here, myself? That's why it's so neat and clean. But we talked to a scrub woman when we came in. In the flesh. We don't have a scrub woman here. The way I keep this place, you can eat off the floor. But I just... We have no scrub woman. Valentine, aside from being a cop, I'm trying to be a logical understanding man. When you tell me there was a girl sitting in this chair when you came in and she committed suicide, natural curiosity makes me ask one simple question. Where's the body? We don't know. Stop repeating yourself, Miss Brooks. What she wants there. Mm-hmm. And while you were telephoning me in the bedroom, the corpse walked out on you. Well, I don't know why I should let that upset me. That sort of thing happens every day. Well, it happened today. What about this letter she sent me, Lieutenant? And there's the gun still on the desk. Valentine, half the people who write you should be rounded up with a butterfly in that time. The gun, Lieutenant? Yes, we look at that right now. Careful, like so we won't destroy the all-important fingerprints in this amazing case. There. Do you see what I see, Mr. Valentine? Yeah, yeah. Well, Rem Sharp's been fine. Mm-hmm. And from the looks and smell of this murderous instrument, I'd say it hadn't been used in weeks. All right, all right. I've let up stuff. And this is the gun, the girl who isn't here used to commit suicide. Yeah. How do you know she was even dead? Did you examine the body? That's not fair, Lieutenant. You know you're not supposed to touch the body. And where is this female Harvey who loves to polish mailboxes and doorknobs, but who doesn't work here? Don't rub it in, Lieutenant. But I'm going to find an answer to this. Oh, that's all yours. I'm going to have one of the boys track down your Miss Palmer for you. But if you ask me, my friend, somebody's taking you for a ride. Well, if you ask me, my friend, it's Marsha Palmer who's been taken for a ride. We'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine in just a moment. Meanwhile, a word about conservation in your car. If you're not getting full gasoline mileage from your car, better have the spark plug serviced for dirty chip door cracked plugs often waste as much as one gallon out of every 10 gallons of gasoline. That's throwing away quite a bit of money even if you buy only 10 gallons of gas a week. 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All of which makes no sense at all but if you're like George Valentine you find yourself face to face with all things a theatrical agent. No, no, no, Max. None of the ladies in these pictures is the one I'm looking for. Ah, what are you saying, George? Every one of these ladies spent a better part of their lives scrubbing floors in front of audiences. Yeah, I'll take your word for it. The admins remain. Look at her there. In one place she spent two full acts on her knees scrubbing floors to send her son to medical school. And then in the third act when he's the president of the same medical school he passes her in the corridor he's don't even recognize it. Pathetic, innit? Yeah, I'm all choked up, Max. Well, will you listen to me? Wasn't I all the time? No, I told you I feel pretty sure that someone hired a woman and a darn good actress to play the part of a phony scrub woman at the Afton Apartments Center. How can you be so sure she was an actress, George? No, praise she used, Max. She said she only worked there in the surgical term. You know that? I have liberty. I hate those words. The more I hear them, the more money I don't make. Come on, come on, think hard, Max. I described it to you. She has a thin, hatchet-like face with eyes that try to smile at you but you couldn't quite believe it. Wait a minute, George. I've got a few more pictures. People I ain't used for years. I'll let you see them. Hold it till I call my secretary. Hey, there's room for ten bucks on the expense account if you can be of help. Must be down here in this drawer. Take a look, George. Okay, all right. That one wouldn't be. Very voice of power. Strictly boyless. Hey, wait a minute. What's this? You're recognizing? She's a one-all, right? What's her name? Where does she live? I'll get you that information in a minute, sir. I'll just get my secretary. Max? Yeah. Who am I kidding? Oh, I used to have a secretary. Anyway, on the back of it, it says her name is Amy Randall. Her dress? Her corollary, character parts, her dialects, glad to audition, age over 21. They all say that. Okay, thanks, Max. I think I found just what I want. I don't know how you found out where I live, Mr. Valentine. And I don't know what you want from an old scrub woman. You mind if I hold your hand a minute, Mom? You're such a soft, well-kept hands. Not the hands of a scrub woman. Huh? Come on, Amy. Give it to me straight. I know all about you. You're an actress. No. And I thought I'd paid my part so perfectly. Oh, that you did. You did that. You deserve three curtain calls. But come on now. Who hired you to be there just when we arrived? You've been out of work as long as I had, Mr. Valentine. You don't ask any questions. $50 for an hour's work is a lot of money. He gave you a check, didn't he? No, it was okay. What did he look like? Well, he was rather short and south. And he had just a kind of fringe of gray hair on his head. Told me he saw me on the stage once and looked me up. He said he was playing a practical joke on somebody. I just had to say I was worried about Ms. Palmer and put on an act. Uh-huh. For a moment there. Didn't you really believe I was a scrub woman? Didn't you? I told you before, Mom. I was slightly terrific. You don't know what it means for me to hear you say that. And you don't know just what kind of part you played in a little drama today. What? But then again, that makes us even, Mom. I don't know that either. All right, all right. That's the way it has to be. The three of us will sit down here in the lobby until Ms. Palmer gets home tonight. I don't know why you're here at all, Lieutenant Riley. I thought you were convinced that this was all a weird joke and somebody was taking George for a ride. Practically your own words, Lieutenant. Valentine, I can handle you alone. And Ms. Brooks, I don't have too much trouble with you either. But when both of you gang up on me like this, I... Yeah. Well, the truth is we haven't been able to find the Palmer Dame all afternoon. And I just didn't put one man on the job but six. I covered all the places he usually hangs around to and nobody's seen her. If you just stop blustering and pouting, Lieutenant, I'd like to say thanks for coming back. Yeah? Well, I'm not doing you any favors. Every time you get a case like this, I get a headache. Let's say I'm here just because I can't afford to buy any more aspirin. Well, how do you figure it, Lieutenant? Somebody went to a lot of trouble to hire an actress so she could create an appropriate atmosphere for the so-called suicide. I know, Ms. Brooks. I know. Lieutenant! Lieutenant Riley! Stratton, I told you the first word I got about her. I'd let you know. Oh, thank heaven you're still here. What's the matter with you? What happened? She...she...she's up there. Up where? In her apartment. She's sitting there at the desk. I thought for a moment she'd speak to me, but... She didn't. Okay, don't fall apart. Let's have it in clear, simple language. And where's the small syllables? She...she's dead. She killed herself. No question about it now. She's good and dead. What were you doing here anyway, Stratton? I...I thought I heard footsteps so I came up. You see, we'd...we'd had a little argument last night. I thought I'd...we'd...we'd have a little argument last night. I just wanted to tell her I was sorry. What kind of an argument? The kind two people have when they love each other. No reason for it, but... I don't know when you want to make up for it. Suddenly it's just too late. All right, Stratton. We'll talk about that sometime later on. But why is a fake suicide this afternoon? And then to come back here tonight and go through the whole thing for keeps? Hey, this might mean something, Lieutenant. What's that? There's a smear of blood on the floor. There's a smear of blood on the light switch over there. Oh, I must have done that. She was dark and fumbling for the light. I...I must have touched the desk first. I didn't even notice it because as soon as I saw... This chair's gone on the desk, the one that Palmer used. Have you ever noticed it around here before? Yeah. I told Marcia she was a fool to keep it around, but she had a license for it. She felt she was safer with it. Any reason why she should write me a letter like this? Go on, Stratton. Take a good look at it. Marcia's handwriting all right, I'm sure of that. I...I can't understand what she could have meant. Didn't you yourself say she seemed to be afraid of something? I said she looked as though she did, and she really did, but I still don't know what it could have been. Okay, Valentine, I know there might be a lot more to this, but for the time being, I've got to accept the obvious. Obvious, he says. Miss Palmer wrote you a letter threatening suicide. She went through with it. That's all we've got to work on for the time being. Oh, Stratton. What is it, 10 in the morning? We want to get your story down straight. It happens to be a very convenient hour for me, Lieutenant, because I'm unemployed. Oh, one more thing, Stratton. Marcia was a model. Where did she work? She model clothes for a big foreign downtown called the Mode Moderne. Which brings me to you, Brooks, see? Huh? I fail to see the connection. We'll talk about it later. But you also have a date tomorrow morning at 10. Yes, Miss Brooks. I'm Miss Gavron, the head model here. You're going to think I'm just perfectly mercenary? Aren't we all? I mean, to be here at the Mode Moderne the first thing in the morning after reading about what happened to that poor Marcia Palmer, wasn't it perfectly awful? Yes, it was quite a shock to all of us here. Well, I thought there might be an opening for me here. After all, I'm a Perfect 12, and I've had loads of experience modeling. You can check with Mr. Gillespie at High Style Incorporated or Mr. Farbstein at the... Well, even if Mr. Moire were here, he's the head of a third new know. It'll be the right time to talk about taking Marcia's place. I think he was more upset than any of us about what happened. Well, like I said, wasn't it perfectly awful? The paper said there was a note. She was afraid of something. That I don't believe, Miss Brooks. You don't? Marcia and I were quite close. She wasn't afraid of anything. She was always happy and cheerful. Especially yesterday when we had lunch together. You don't say. I even asked her what there was to be so happy about. Oh, she said it was a joke. And she'd tell me about it some other time. A joke? Isn't that just perfectly awful? Now, if you'd like to leave your name... Well, I would like to talk to Mr. White. I'm afraid you can. He won't be in it all today. He's being honored at a luncheon at the Commodore, his club. How perfectly exciting. He even has a picture in the paper. Here. Oh, my. He looks so friendly and chubby. Marcia and I called Mr. White Cupid. Oh, but never to his face if you know what I mean. Shall I tell him that you'll get in touch with him, Miss Brooks? Oh, but definitely. Well, your little interview at Maud Mordern Angel only makes this case screwier than ever. Well, as soon as I heard about Mr. Wyatt and saw his angelic countenance in the paper, I thought he might fit in somewhere. Yeah, short, chubby little man hired our actress friend to play Scrub Woman. Oh, he fits in all right. Not with the facts. What do you mean, George? Just a minute, Bruce. Let's go and see Riley, see what he's got out of Stratton. Oh, Valentine, I've been expecting him. Good morning, Lieutenant. Oh, yeah, Lieutenant. Oh, so-so. Well, here's the way it stacks up this morning. The medical examiner goes along with the suicide theory. Gun, fingerprints, everything. Stratton here tells a straight story. Thank you, Lieutenant. So that's about it for now, Valentine. Just one thing's been puzzling lately. Yeah. Stratton, apartment 4A where Marsha lived has exactly the same layout as yours and 3A has... Well, I suppose so. You know these apartment houses, not much imagination. But you said you fumbled for the light switch and got blood on it because you were over at the desk first. That's exactly what you said, Stratton. Well, I suppose so. I don't remember. Three of us were there when you said... Now, why did you have to fumble for the light switch? It's exactly in the same place in Marsha's apartment as in yours, right next to the door. Well, maybe I didn't explain myself just right. You were planning Marsha's body at the desk where it was and the gun, too. No, no, you're wrong. That you wanted to do with darkness. Then you put on the light and went running downstairs. That's why you- Hold it, Valentine. Hold it. I'll take it from here. Lieutenant, you gotta listen to me. That smear of blood on the light switch put you square on the spot, fella. Now, the less you say now without a lawyer, the better. I'm holding you on suspicion of murder. Well, you'll have to pardon us. Bruxy and I have a luncheon day to the comedy. Huh? Have we? Oh, oh, yes, yes. Oh, wait a minute, Valentine. I want to talk to you about it. Maybe you're happy about this way this case washed out, Lieutenant. But I'm not. Come on and keep talking, Mr. Warren. I-I-I don't know what to say. I should be inside in-in the ballroom, Mr. Valentine, talking to the fellows. How can you even think of your silly club now after everything that's happened? All-in-all, it was a pretty elaborate job. Even hiring a carry-correctress to Bill's surprise. I-I-I tried to think of everything. You did. Oh, it was a clever stunt, all right, getting Miss Palmer to write that letter to me, and amount it to a suicide. I knew I couldn't afford to overlook a thing. I-I'm sorry. Sorry I ever got involved in the whole mess. Okay, Mr. Warren, don't take it so high. You better get back to your luncheon. And, uh, oh, yeah, go easy on the green chicken. George, I'm still reeling. Yeah, I can see what you mean, all right. Well, I know children can be children, but a grown man like Mr. Wyatt... Oh, not a mere man, Angel. The new president of the Liars Club being honored at the Commodore and all that. Hmph. Fantastic. You see, Bruxy, he had to have the tallest story ever heard for this inaugural, and he probably would have had. I'll say. A suicide that wasn't a suicide. A missing body and all the termings. He knows all the names, facts, and answers. But still, there he was, free and unfettered to address all his fellow liars. Boy, can you top that one. Not at the moment. But maybe Marsha wouldn't have been murdered at all if Mr. Wyatt hadn't dreamed up that gag. No, Bruxy, we can be pretty sure she would have. You read Glenn Stratton's confession. He was insanely jealous. He was just waiting for the right opportunity. Thinking back, it makes me shudder, George. The fool-ass Marsha went down to Stratton's apartment, probably laughing at the joke. Then he killed her and brought her back upstairs. Yeah. Wyatt must have cooked up the deal with his favorite model down at Stratton's apartment. That's why Wyatt told the phony scrub woman it was 3A. Darling, Riley's never gonna forgive you for leaving him up in the air, not knowing whether he had the murderer or not. Yeah, but I had to talk to my client. Client? Or can you think of anybody else in the case I could pin for a fee, except the biggest liar in the world? George, I have an idea. Let's present him with a bill that will make even Mr. Wyatt scream, It's a lie! It's often the little things that make your day a good one or a rough one. The simple business of starting your car, for example. If it's obstinate and gives you a bad time when you want to get going, it can add up to a lot of irritation. For fast starts every time and wherever you're driving, just try Chevron Supreme gasoline in your car. This premium-quality gasoline is climate-tailored, specially adapted to each different climate of the altitude zone in the West. Day or night, summer or winter, you can depend upon it for fast starts. And that's a saving, too, of the power in your battery. What's more, Chevron Supreme gives your car smooth acceleration and extra power for rugged hills. Get a tank full tomorrow at any standard station or independent Chevron gas station and, as I say, and mean, we'll take better care of your car. Next week, when you tune our way for another adventure of George Valentine, you'll hear... Hey, look, Barney, what was the idea dragging me into this doorway when that car came up? Boy, Mr. Valentine, did you see him turn around and beat it when he started getting to work? What works? What happened? We figured you might be followed when you left the suede so the Bearcats were ready on a roof with ash cans, bricks, cans of garbage, stuff like that. Boy, they let him have it. Say, yeah, what did you find out about Denny? Nothing much, kid. Except that there are at least two characters who do anything to keep me from finding out. Well, don't you worry. They won't. Not with the Bearcats on the job. Tonight's adventure, George Valentine, has been brought to you by Standard of California on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West. Let George do it, stars Robert Bailey as George with Francis Robinson as player. Wally Mayer appears as Lieutenant Riley. Tonight's story was written by David Victor and Herbert Little Jr. and directed by Don Clark. Also heard in the cast were Jacqueline DeWitt as Gloria, Tony Barrett as Glenn Stratton, Glenn Delano as the scrub woman, Ralph Moody as the janitor, and Harry Lang as Max. The music is composed and conducted by Eddie Dunstetter, your announcer, John Easton. Listen again next week, same time, same station, too. Let George do it. This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System.