 Mystery House. 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. Hey, Barb, you said the novel we're acting out for Mystery House tonight has a detective who never even sees the scene of the crime. That's technically correct, Dan. At least she never gets on the premises. She? Yes. The girls in England. Oh, that sounds impossible. Now, don't use that word, Mr. Glenn. Nothing's impossible. No. Well, I can think of a good many things that nobody's ever been able to do. Well, I can remember when people said it would be impossible to make the radio commercials as interesting as the show itself. But listen to this. Okay, places, everybody. Set the scene, will you, Tom? Death past my window. A story about a young girl who lives in that section of an industrial city where the tenements sit in squalid rows side by side with only a few feet between. Hope grave. I've been a hopeless invalid for eight years ever since the night a hidden run driver struck me down. I lie in my bed now in a dingy room of a crowded, faded tenement. My one window stares at a window in another tenement, almost directly opposite. That window and the girl who lives behind it have become friends of mine. Morning, Hope. How's the back today? Much better, thanks, Jenny. If you were telling the truth, you'd have the finest back in the world. Always better, every morning. Did Eddie bring you home last night, Jenny? Yes, as per usual. Why don't you bring him up to your room sometime, Jenny, and get him in front of your window so I can see him? Hey, not so fast, John. Nice girls don't bring their boyfriends to their room. Even when the girl happens to be a nightclub dancer and the boy's a sax player in the dance band. I'll bet he's handsome. No, I wouldn't say he's handsome. But he's kind of a sweet kid. He can sit in a crowded, noisy, smoky nightclub all night long, night after night, and still not be there at all. Know what I mean? Mm-hmm. The way I go sailing out on the lake in a little racing sloop, like I shop the beautiful stars on the avenue. Poor kid. You with your one little window. But I do have one window. You know, Jenny, I sometimes wonder if people realize what wonderful inventions windows are. You silly girl. Well, I got a lot to do this morning. I had a son with some costumes. So long. Jenny's days and nights are all mixed up, like mine. It isn't really morning, but four o'clock in the afternoon. Being in bed 24 hours of the day, year after year, you forget about day and night. Time is just something to fill the best you can. It goes on, on, and on. The hours from ten to three. Those are the hardest. Nothing but blackness outside my window. The complete blackness of night. Sometimes I wish Jenny wasn't a dancer, but then I'd miss the funny little squeak one of the floorboards always makes when she practices her dance steps. Her visits mean so much to me. Morning, hopeful. What you reading? Hi, Jenny. It's a new mystery and a honey. Oh, I'll bet it's good. I'll just bet everything in the whole world is good. Well, what are you so happy about? Take a gander. See? I know it's small, but you can see it from there, can't you? The weightless. Oh, it's a diamond ring. It wouldn't exactly blind you, but it's real. Eddie? Yeah. We're going to be married. Oh, wonderful. It sounds simply terrific. Oh, he isn't really cute, but he's nice and a square guy. Oh, Jenny, you've got to let me see him. I'll just die if you don't. I'll bring him over to your room some night. Promise? If it's a promise, I'll cross my heart. In hope to die? No, just cross my heart. The way I feel now, I think I'd like to live forever. It's from a pattern, not all alike, but each like some remembered one from the past. One I know I've lived before, and one I'll live again. Ready for me to turn out your light, dear? Yes. Thank you, Mother. I've brought you something for tomorrow, honey. Oh, what? It's one of the Flamon stories. The case of the Insulin Dinn. I got it from the rental library. Oh, gee. It's a big book. Oh, Mother, you're wonderful. Good night, dear. Night again. The hour's from ten to three. Nothing but black night. What? Light. A light in Ginny's room. Anyhow, come your home so early. She must be opening a wooden box. Maybe it's something she doesn't want me to see. Ginny. And I wish she wouldn't. A lighted cigarette stopped being thrown out of the window. And Ginny doesn't smoke. Why didn't Ginny answer me? I guess she brought Eddie up to fix the squeaky board. She didn't want me to know he was there. But I didn't mean to be nosy. She has a right to a little privacy. I just won't say anything to her about it. I'm hopeful. Hello, Ginny. When are you gonna bring Eddie around? Gosh, honey, I've been so dug on busy hours. I see you finally got around to fixing the squeaky board in your floor. You could hear that squeaky board way over your plate? Of course. He's lost to fix itself, then. I didn't do anything. I guess lots of things do fix themselves at that. Hey, work hard, Nyssa. No harder than usual. But we have a late show tonight. Gotta practice a little. We see you, hopeful. Twelve o'clock. And Ginny's light just went on again. Oh, this is wrong. Before the pattern lost its form, it was never like this. Never. It's not right, Eddie. Are you jittery, huh? Your imagination's working overtime. I don't imagine things, Eddie. I wouldn't have to get off early tonight and come back here just for imagination. I'm afraid. Oh, Ginny. Eddie, let's get married tonight. Tonight? At this hour? Well, nobody's around. Oh, we could find someone. When you and I get married, we'll do it right, for keeps. Come here. Oh. Is that it? I... I guess so. Well, I better be going now. I didn't have any right up here. Oh, just a minute before you go. Hope. Hope you're awake. Oh, sure, Ginny. I just woke up. You been home long? No. I took your head over in front of the window, Eddie. Hello. I can't see you, but if you're a friend of Ginny's, I like you. Hello, Eddie. Let's hope great. You know the girl I was telling you about. Glad to know you hope. Well, I have to be running along now. Will you... Will you do something for me before you go, Eddie? Sure, kid. Anything you say. Well, will you kiss Ginny goodnight in front of the window? Sure. How was that, Hope? Like, it was beautiful. Four o'clock in the afternoon. It's time for Ginny to pull up her shade and start her day. That's really nice. I've never been jealous of Ginny's dancing feet, but today I am. She has a prince charming, and I'll never have one. I'll go on getting excitement from books, but I'll think of Ginny and her Eddie. I'll think of the misty sparkle in her eyes when Eddie kissed her last night. I'll think of it because it was so wonderful. And because I... I can't have it... ever. Funny that Ginny hasn't raised her window shade yet. So, probably dreaming of Eddie. But she should be up now. Ginny? Ginny? Ginny, you lazy buns, get up. It's time for you to get up. Oh, Ginny! Is something wrong? Answer me, please. Right, open up, miss. You've got your landlady worried. Exempt at Brian, Virginia. You know the cop on the corner. Come on now. Open the door like a good girl. Out of the house, ordinarily, she is, but it's time off as a Brian. It's cold and cold and it don't do no good. Virginia, are you opening the door now? Answer me. You got a best key, Mrs. Johnson? No. These doors all got good spring locks. And the key to this one is locked. All right, stand back then, Mrs. Johnson. There's nothing for it but the bust in the door. Hey! See? Wait. The saint's had mercy on her soul. Poor little kid, her head all caved in with a hammer. It looks like a long, heavy, black-sept necklace. Yeah, but it's got a snap hook on it. No, it ain't a necklace, Mrs. Scholes. What is it then? I think maybe it's something that's gonna hang a man. No, Officer Brian, no. Oh, I am, am I? What is it then? Yeah, that's what I thought it was. Oh, Eddie, huh? So Virginia had a boyfriend named Eddie and he left a saxophone part in her room. You know when he left it? No. You don't know or you just won't tell me? I said I didn't know. I heard you, but I've been around this neighborhood too long to be fooled all the time. Now, if you do know anything, kid, you should tell it fast. Why? If you know something that had pinned a murder on somebody, that somebody would try another murder to keep me from getting the answer. And you wouldn't be able to defend yourself very well. Is Officer Brian right? Will the murderer strike again? Act two. I'll death past my window. Opens at the battered door of the murdered girl's apartment. Somebody is knocking. Ginny, you're late for work. What's the matter, honey? Ginny! Ginny! What? What's the devil? A cop. What are you doing here? Where's Ginny? Oh, no. She hasn't done anything. Take me to her right away. It ain't a bad act, kid. You almost convinced me, almost. What are you talking about? Sit down. I want to see Ginny. She's late for work right now. She ain't going to work, kid, ever. What? What are you trying to say? You already know. I don't know a thing. What torturing me? You've got to tell me. Something's happened. What is it? Well, Virginia's had an accident, Eddie. A bad accident. Early this morning. Oh, no. No, you're lying. No. No. It isn't true. It isn't true. It isn't true. This death I've met, it passed my window, not 20 feet away. And yet, invisible. In detective stories, death is always exciting. This was Ginny, my friend. And it isn't exciting at all. Horrible. Where were you at four o'clock this morning, Eddie? I... I don't know. Did you bring Virginia home? Yes. Yes, I did. How did you get into her room? I didn't get into her room. Eddie, no. Brian knows you were there. He found your saxophone court. Hope. Tell him. Tell him I didn't kill Ginny. I've already told him, Eddie. You mean you told me you didn't see him do it. But that doesn't mean he couldn't have. All right, come on, Eddie. Where? Down to the police station. Well, you're making a mistake, officer Brian. Won't come out all right? Worry? I'm through worry. There's nothing to worry about or hope for or dream about anymore. And everything won't come out all right. It's no good, kid. Goodbye, Eddie. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Hope. Hope. Good one. That is. What the murderer took into the station? Ah, such goings on. What are you doing in Ginny's room, Mrs. Schultz? Brian told me I could move her things to the basement storage. Mrs. Schultz, will you call Officer Brian for me? What for? Tell him I want to talk to him. That I have some important information. But you have already told him all you know. No. No, there's a great deal more. There is an old proverb, Hope. Murdered though it have no tongue will speak. No. People who look for trouble usually find it. Officer Brian, will you do what I asked then? Well, now that all depends. No, that won't do. You'll have to promise. I'm making no promises. You wouldn't want to convict an innocent man, would you? No. Promise? All right. It'll involve some irregular procedure, maybe illegal. Here now, that's not fair. You promised? Yes. All right. All right. What is it you want me to do? I want you to go over next door and rip loose one of the moldings on a window in every apartment on the fourth floor, except genious. What? Does a Brian go back on his word? Well, I know one thing. After this, one Brian will learn to say no. To get them all, Officer Brian? Yeah, fake phone calls to get people out, breaking an entrance, destruction of property, and me a policeman, too. I got every apartment on the fourth floor, and may Captain Ohulihann never hear of it. Well, thanks, Brian. Now, all you have to do is wait. Wait? Sit over here in this room all by myself and wait? Wait for what? Just wait. And don't worry about being alone. We can visit. Hey, listen. Some of my destruction's being repaired. Yes. That's apartment 4-D, isn't it? It sounds like it. Mr. and Mrs. Butovsky, he's a section hand, and he's not the one. Not the one? What are you talking about? Never mind. Just wait. Try to have patience. Young lady, did you have me tear loose all those moldings just so you could hear a hammer serenade? Now, that's three been fixed so far, and all you say is, that's not the one. That's not it either. Oh, that's not it either. That's not it either. How long do you expect me to sit in this room listening to people pounding nails? That's four moldings fixed. Only two to go. Oh, sure. I replace the window moldings and the people fix them. That's supposed to prove that the saxophone player didn't murder the girl. Maybe I'm nuts. That's it. What apartment is it coming from? Four C across the hall. Get him, Brian, quick. Get him before he runs away. He killed Ginny. It'll be tough upon it. What do you want? I want you to step across the hall. The room where the bank got mudded? No thanks, pal, not me. Come on. Step over here by this window, mister. What floor? Hope. Is this the man? Yes. Yes, it has to be him. Say, what kind of a gag is this? I've never seen this girl before in my life. How about that Hope? Oh, he's quite right. I've never seen him before either. See, Copper? But he killed Ginny, and I can prove it. Hey, you don't look too healthy, sister, but it's less healthy to make cracks like that if you can't back him up. Officer Brian, there's a wide pine floor in that room. Isn't there? I've never seen it. Yeah, that's right. Wide pine. Lie down on the bed, Brian, and then get up. What? Oh, all right. You okay? Your foot, Brian. Keep it right there on the board it touched when you got up. Mark the board with your pencil. What goes, sister? You ain't gonna rope me in on any funny business? Getting interested, mister? All right, Brian. Get a hammer and pry up that board. Well, it still sounds crazy to me, but I might as well, I guess. Oh, no, you don't. Copper, stay right where you are. Put down that gun, you. You'll get a bullet from it right through your thick head if you make a move. I'll keep your hands in the air while I take your gun. And don't get any ideas. What are you gonna do? First, I'm gonna do what the bright girl suggested. I'm gonna pry up that board. Then I'm gonna nick you enough so you won't follow me. And I'm taking on the land. Money. I've never seen so much money in my life. About 30 grand, copper. Your nice, crisp, folding dough. Yeah, but the checks, all them checks. What about them? Don't be dumb all your life, copper. That's a racket. The checks are hot. Lifting out of mailboxes. I got kids shoving hot checks all over town. I rented the room across the hall because I knew the dancer was in home nights when I'd be collecting dough and passing out the stolen check to my shelves. I needed a sure, safe hiding place for the stuff. Yeah, and Virginia was working with you. She didn't even know there was such a guy as me. Until she came home early with Eddie. Yeah, yeah, that's right. She found cigarette ashes on her floor and a ground out stub right in front of my door. And she was dumb enough to start asking questions. I couldn't have her asking questions. You'll never get away with this, lad. Get back, copper. I'll out-shoot. I mean business. Hey, my eyes, my eyes. I can't see. Right, you shoot me, will you? All right. Lay off me, copper. You don't have to be so rough upon it. I'll be rough, all right. I can't see you, Brian. Is everything all right? Yeah, honey. Thanks to your place in that mirror in this guy's eyes, he'd have shot me sure if you hadn't blinded him. I won't forget that either, sister. Ah, well, what you remember or forget ain't going to be of much importance, lad. I've got a feeling that you ain't going to be around long. My name is still Hope Graves. I'm still a bedridden invalid. Yet somehow I don't feel at all like the same person who started to tell this story. The pattern has shifted back to its usual form. But for me, things will never be the same. I'll always know it can change. That my routine isn't set in a drab, colorless schedule that will never vary. Life, even for me, can be exciting.