 Box 13, with the Star of Paramount Pictures, Alan Ladd as Dan Holliday. Box 13, care of star times. We're allowed newspapers here and by chance I saw your advertisement. I have exactly 48 hours to live. No more than that, unless you can do something which no one else has been able to do. Get me out of the death cell at the State Penitentiary. I was tried and convicted for the murder of one of my best friends. I didn't do it. Well, you try to help. Martin Kirby. When I received the letter from Martin Kirby, I wondered how a man felt who had only a short time to live and knew it. Before the thing was over, I stopped wondering. I knew. And now back to Box 13 and Dan Holliday's newest adventure, Hunt & Pectin. Gee, Mr. Holliday, what can you do about it? Susie, I wish I had an answer for you. You're going to say him, aren't you? Well, if I don't, I'd kick myself all over the city for not doing what I could. On the other hand, he was tried, convicted and sentenced. But it could be wrong. I mean... I know what you mean. Susie's sentencing a man to death is a terrible thing. The evidence against Kirby must have been pretty strong. Uh-huh, I guess it was. You're on the horns of an Aunt Emma. The lemma. This time, Susie, I don't laugh. What are you going to do? Well, the only thing I can do is see Martin Kirby and, well, at least listen to him. I didn't think you'd come, Mr. Holliday. Why not? Well, there must have been a million guys in this place. All innocent. Sure, maybe some of them were and are. I am. I... I... What time, I mean... I know what you mean. It's 1.30 now. I've got the rest of today and till tomorrow night at 11.30. 3.34 hours. I know. I've counted them, too. All right, Kirby, what can I do? I don't know. Is there anything you can tell me, something that didn't come out of the trial? The only thing that didn't come out of my trial was the fact that I didn't kill Leslie Roberts. Oh, I kept saying it, but there was too much against me. At first, when I got here, I didn't care anymore. If they wanted to see an innocent man die for something he didn't do, then it was murder on their heads. But... but now, Mr. Holliday, I want to live. Sure, sure. But there's nothing you can tell me. Anything that I can go to the police with and get a reprieve, a stay of execution? My lawyers tried that a hundred times. My case has been reviewed. Nothing doing. Then what you're asking of me is to do what everyone else has failed at. I guess that's it. You know, Kirby, it's at times like this that I wish I'd never put that box 13 out in the paper. Meaning there's nothing you'll do? No, no, I didn't say that. I'll try, but 34 hours is a short time. Look, maybe you'll go at this with a fresh slant. Maybe something will hit you that everyone else has missed. Yeah, maybe. All right, Kirby, it'll take me two hours to get back to the city, and if I'm going to do anything, I'll have to do it fast. Driving back to the city, I felt like someone who has to tell a kid there's no Santa Claus, because I was almost sure that Kirby had no chance. What could I do? The police were no fools. The district attorney must have had an airtight case against Kirby when he went to trial. Well, I'd promised to help, so my first stop in the city was the Star Times, and down to the morgue to read up on the case. It was all there. Whoever covered the case for the Star Times had done a great job of reporting. I looked at my watch. It was 345. Martin Kirby had two hours and 15 minutes less than the original 34, and all I had done so far was, well, it was the stack of a pile of newspapers. I started from the beginning, but the story of the murder of Leslie Roberts itself told me nothing. Then I got into the transcript of the trial. It took me three hours to read everything carefully, and when I finished, I could have, well, I could have summed up the whole thing just as the prosecutor did. The jury, you've heard the testimony of this case. The status proved the following facts. One, Martin Kirby was desperately in need of money. Two, the deceased, Leslie Roberts, was insured for $100,000, his beneficiaries being the accused, Martin Kirby, and another partner, William Morgan. The double indemnity clause in the insurance policy meant that both Kirby and Morgan would receive $100,000 each. Third point, the accused quarreled with the deceased over Mrs. Roberts, wife of the murdered man. Fourth, we have established the murder weapon. This gun belonged to Martin Kirby. True, the serial numbers were filed off, but scientific work revealed the numbers, and this gun belonged to Martin Kirby. He's admitted it. And thinking to get rid of it, he threw it into a sewer near Leslie Roberts' home. Now, perhaps Mr. Kirby believed the police of this city to be fools. Far from it, their work is established beyond doubt that Martin Kirby is a murderer. Oh, sure, it was a good case. I stacked the papers in a pile and left the start times and went down to police headquarters to see Lieutenant Kling. Sit down, Dan. It's on your mind. Martin Kirby? Oh, why? I've seen him. He wrote the box 13. Oh, he's innocent, huh? Did you work on the case? No, Inspector Rawlings handled it. Why? But you know about it. Sure. I sometimes managed to know what's going on. Look, Kling, you're a good detective. You've got brains. I'll buy you more of milk sometime, but you didn't come here to hand me posies. Do you believe Kirby's guilty? Yes. From the evidence? That's what we base our cases on. It's inherent in the judicial and legal system. Now, what do you want from me, a new system? I told you I saw Kirby. Kling, he doesn't act like a guilty man. Oh, no, no, no, wait a second. Who's this? That's a photograph of Marion Oberling. So, what am I supposed to do? Look at it. Nice and sweet, isn't she? I've never met her. Oh, but I did. Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. A smile that would soften up the rock of Gibraltar. Talks like an angel. But she killed a kid to get 35 cents from him. Now, look, you've got a soft heart, Dan, but you've got a tendency to let it run right into your head. Maybe you're right, Kling, but... but I promised Kirby I'd plug away until time was a... I like to keep promises. And that's your business, Dan. But why did you come to me? For any help you could give me. Which adds up to a big zero. Kling, I read the transcript of the trial. Kirby was the only suspect. He had motive, opportunity. So did Mrs. Roberts and William Morgan. It was Kirby's gun that put Leslie Roberts in the obituaries. Someone else could have used it. So, as the defense lawyer said, but Kirby couldn't explain how it got into that sewer. But Kirby called the police when he went to Roberts' house that night and saw Roberts dead. Sure, sure. We get dozens of cases where the killer tries to police smart. He calls the police, figuring it'll make him look good. But he had to kill Roberts, run outside, throw the gun into the sewer, then go back inside and call the police. So? That's a big chance to take in case someone heard the shot and came to investigate. Killers take chances, Dan. Okay, okay. Now, the paper said there was a note from Roberts asking Kirby to come to his house that night. Yeah. That's why Kirby said he happened to go to Roberts' house that night. The only night in the week that Mrs. Roberts is always out. The police said Kirby could have typed that note. Right. But Kirby's defense lawyer said Roberts could have typed it. Look, you type a note to me, asking me to meet you. Then what do you do? What do you mean, what do I do? You write your signature nine times out of ten. You don't type it. So? That means anyone could have typed it. I know, I know. To get Kirby to Roberts' house. That's it. So that was all brought out of the trial. The jury saw it the way the prosecution summed it up. That Kirby typed that note to make it seem as though he was asked to Roberts' place. Both Mrs. Roberts and Morgan also stood to gain by Roberts' death. Each gets a hundred thousand. Look, the case is closed. Too many things added up against Kirby. Sometimes things can be added up wrong. Figures and facts. You're knocking your head against the storm wall. So I'll get a headache. That's about all. Okay, I'll carry aspirins with me. But, uh, say could I look at that note? What for? This is a favor. Okay, I'll take care of it for you. But I'll give you a 6-2 and even that Martin Kirby will be executed tomorrow night at 11.30. Well, Kling got me the note. So I had it, and so what? All it said was, Marty, be at my house tonight at 8.30. Less. It was typed and had been left in Kirby's typewriter at the office. Susie and I studied it. What do you expect to get out of it, Mr. Holiday? I don't know, Susie. Gee, like you said, anybody could have typed it. That's right. Kirby denies he did. Nobody can prove Roberts did or didn't. Not now. Maybe. Maybe that Mr. Morgan or Mrs. Roberts did. Mm-hmm. Gee, what if either one of them did it and they're letting an innocent man be executed? Oh, it wouldn't be a comfortable feeling. Susie. What's the matter? Did I say something? Yeah, yeah, yeah. Maybe you did, Susie. Maybe you did. What? Conscience. Who's? Mrs. Roberts and Morgan's. You mean both of them killed Mr. Roberts? Mm-hmm. Give me that phone book. Here it is. Thanks. Roberts, Roberts, Leslie Roberts. What are you going to do, Mr. Holiday? Play a little poker. You're going to play cards at a time like this? Not quite. Just a bluff. I'm holding a pair of deuces. I don't get it. Is this Ms. Leslie Roberts? Never mind. Just listen. Tomorrow night at 11.30, just 24 hours from now, Martin Kirby will be executed for the murder of your husband. Who are you? What do you want? Does your conscience bother you, Mrs. Roberts? What do you mean by that? Don't you know Mrs. Roberts? Is this some kind of a stupid joke? Hardly. They're not joking at the state penitentiary. Mrs. Roberts, I know something that can make you uncomfortable, but I'm willing to talk about it. Insane or completely without feeling? If you're interested, meet me at the corner of Carpenter and Pastel Place at midnight. And why should I do that? That's for you to think about. But I think you know already. Now listen carefully. I'll be wearing a light tan topcoat. Brown felt head. I'll carry a leather briefcase. Goodbye. Mr. Holiday, what was that for? I told you. All I've got is a pair of deuces. Now I'll make the same call to Morgan. But first, one to cling. I'm certainly bewildered. Don't you ever change. You're wonderful as is. What did I do? Nothing at all. Susie, after I make this call to cling and one to Morgan, I'll either have something to help Martin Kirby or... Or what? Or a wonderful notice in the obituary column of the Star Times. And now, back to Hunt and Peck, another Box 13 adventure with Alan Land as Dan Holiday. I made the same phone call to William Morgan that I made to Mrs. Roberts. But I tipped cling to something before I did. At midnight, I was at the corner of Carpenter and Pastel Place waiting. Sure, it was a bluff. But I figured all was fair in this game. Ten minutes went by, no one showed up. Then, yeah, sure. Thanks. It's all right. I wonder if they wouldn't put street lights here. The guy could get lost, easy. Yeah, he could. Yeah. Okay, thanks for the light. You're welcome. Maybe I played the wrong cards. Maybe no one would show up. It was 20 minutes past midnight. I stepped out of the shadows where I'd been standing. I felt pretty silly. And I knew what cling would say. I was 20 feet away from the corner, walking slowly, looking up and down the street. There was no one in sight. Lights in the windows of the house went out, slowly, one by one. I was 30 feet away from the corner when... Hey, there was somebody shooting. I was shot. Dan, Dan, where are you? Right here, cling. Did you get it? Yeah, yeah, in the arm. Sergeant, eat those people back. Keep them in their houses. Now tell Thompson to take a couple of boys and scar in this neighborhood. Find the person who fired that shot. Whoever it was is the one who should die on Mark and Kirby's place. You're an idiot. You set yourself up like a clay pigeon. How's bad? How bad's the arm there? It's not so deep as well, though wide as a church door. But we'll do it. How do you like this guy? He gets winged and quotes Shakespeare. Okay, let's get you over here. Feel better? Yeah, thanks. What for? Who fired the shot? I don't know. No luck? Whoever it was was in one of the buildings. And running somebody to ground in that neighborhood takes a squad of men. I was afraid of that. Okay, so what have you got now? The bullet through your arm. Cling. Morgan is the real murderer of Leslie Roberts. Boy. Mrs. Roberts reported my phone call to you, didn't she? That's right. But Morgan didn't. I know that. So he was afraid it was a blackmailer who knew he killed Roberts. He would have reported my call to you if he had nothing to be afraid of. Sure, sure. Looks good in your head. But what proof have you got that Morgan fired that shot tonight? None. But on the strength of it, can't you get a stay of execution for Martin Kirby? How? I call up and say you got shot. You think it was Morgan. Morgan denies it. No, no, no. No soap, Dan. To get a stay for Kirby, you need positive evidence. And this hole in my arm doesn't come? Only as a strike against you. And you're lucky at that. What do I have to do? If you could prove Morgan fired that shot, you'd have something. But what you'd have is that he fired at you. Not that he killed Roberts. Say so. Swear out a warrant and we'll bring him in. No, no, no. Don't do that. Let me ask you one more question. What? What do you think of the whole thing now? Well, I... Come on. Come. What do you think? I think you've got something, but the police haven't. How's the fate of that? All right, Kling. Any objections if I keep going? None for me, but you'll have to do it alone. As far as the department's concerned, the Roberts case is closed. I'd never get permission to work on a day. Not even on your own time? That's different. Okay. Keep in touch. Yeah, I will. Meanwhile, you keep alive. Well, there wasn't anything more I could do that night. I took my punctured arm and myself home and got some sleep. Not much, though, because I knew I was right and Kling was right. Only two people knew I'd be at Carpenter and Pastel at midnight. Morgan and Mrs. Roberts. Mrs. Roberts had called the police to report my call. Morgan hadn't. All Morgan had to do now was to lay low until Kirby was executed. But he had been worried enough to take a shot at me. Then I thought of something else. The next morning in my office. Dave? Oh, good morning, Susie. Your arm. It's in a sling. Becoming, isn't it? What happened? I was shot. Oh, who shot you? William Morgan. I'm sure. But never mind that now. I want you to help me. Well, sure, Mr. Holliday, but I won't get shot, will I? Here, sit down with my brother. All right. Now, look, I've typed out a bunch of slips with now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party. With one arm? Good enough. Now, you do the same. Go ahead. I don't understand. I'll explain while you type. Go ahead. Hey. The note left for Martin Kirby was typed. What I'm trying to do is to find out if the style of typing can be definite enough to pin on one person. You mean I type differently from you? Mm-hmm. I use Hunt and Peck, and you use the touch system. Oh! You see, Mrs. Roberts used to be a secretary. She'd use the touch system of typing. Martin Kirby could type, so... and so could William Morgan. Then what good will all this do you? Mm-hmm. I... I don't know. I don't know. Okay, Susie, that's enough. Now, mix up the slips and pick one at random. Then you tell me who typed it. All right. I typed that one. How do you know? It's smoother than yours. That the only way you can tell? Uh-huh. Mm-hmm. And if I type touch system, it'd be pretty tough to tell the slips apart. Oh, sure. All touch system is smooth-looking. The letters are... well, they're all about the same blackness. Okay, that's another lead shot. Gee, I'm sorry, Mr. Holliday. Look at that clock. Ten minutes past twelve. Less than twelve hours left for Kirby. Susie, I'm as sure as I can be that Morgan's guilty. But he shot me last night. Then why don't the police arrest him? It's dangerous for a man like that to be loose. Yes, I think you're right, but I... Susie. Remember what you said about conscience? Mm-hmm. Well, look, if Morgan were sure of himself, he wouldn't have tried that stunt last night. All right, because he did, it means that a little more work on him might make him break, huh? You're not gonna let him shoot at you again. Oh, not if I can help it. But I am going to see him. You will be careful, won't you, Mr. Holliday? Susie, I have only one life to give my work. But it so happens. I like it. I took the rest of the day, but I learned all I could about Mr. William Morgan. And there wasn't one thing that pointed at him as a killer. But I was sure he'd killed Roberts and framed Kirby. He knew Kirby and Roberts had quarreled. He could have taken Kirby's gun from Kirby's desk at the office. He could have typed the note leading Kirby to Roberts' house. And among other things, he had been a demonstrator for a typewriter concern. How did that help? Ansome? Not at all. Because Mrs. Roberts and Kirby both typed that system. That I found out when I read the report of the trial. Okay, I had one angle left. Work on Morgan. Work on him hard enough to crack him wide open. If it could be done. So that night, two hours before Martin Kirby was to die, I buzzed at Morgan's house. Yes? What is it? Mr. William Morgan? Yes. Who are you? I'm a writer. I... I have nothing to say. Excuse me. Get your foot away. Oh, just a minute. Did you receive a phone call last night? Come in. Thank you. What about a phone call? Did you have one last night? I don't know what you're talking about. But you let me in when I mentioned it. Sit down. Okay. You, uh... You hurt your arm. Yes, it, uh, got in the way. You mentioned a phone call? Yes, I did. Cigarette? No, thanks. That ashtray is awfully full. You must have been smoking a lot. So what? Nervous, Mr. Morgan? No, look here. I've had enough of this. What do you want? And who are you? My name's Holliday. I called you last night. That was a gruesome joke, Holliday. One I didn't appreciate at all. I wasn't trying to amuse you, Morgan. Why did you make that call? Before I answer that, take a look at your clock. Well, what about it? In one hour and 50 minutes, Mark and Kirby will be executed for a murder he didn't commit. Why don't you say what you've come to say? Nothing for you to say something. You mean you'd like me to say something that would... Oh, no. Why didn't you tell a police about that call last night? I... Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Big belly laugh. Yes, so the police know that you made that call. Yes, I... Oh, that wasn't very bright of you, Mr. Holliday. No blackmailer would have told the police he made that call. If you knew anything and were planning to trap me, you'd have kept it to yourself, right? Morgan grinned at me. He knew I'd walked right into it. His nervousness seemed to just ooze away. He lighted another cigarette and kept grinning at me through the smoke. Then... Don't you think you'd better leave now, Holliday? Morgan, there was a note. Typewritten. You typed it. Did I? Yes. Maybe you don't know this, but that note can put you in Kirby's place. Yes, how? Well, there's a way of telling who typed a note. Every typist has a different touch. And when enlarged, the touch of one typist will show up differently from the others. Kirby's defense lawyer missed that bet. But I didn't. You talk a great deal too much, Holliday. But it's interesting conversation. I don't believe what you said. No. Here's the note. The police let it to me and... That's all. Holliday, stay sitting. You really wanted that note, didn't you? And I've got it. And that gun in your hand. It's the same one you shot me with last night. This time it won't be in the arm. No, I suppose not. Look, Holliday, it's almost 10. In about one hour and a half, Kirby will be executed. Now, you settle down and wait until 11.30. What do you mean? Two birds with one stone. Kirby and you at 11.30. 11.25, Holliday. You and Kirby have five minutes. You won't get away with it, Morgan. Why not? If I kill you in my apartment, it'll be legal. Look. What's that for? Can't you guess? Papers scattered around, drawers ransacked. It's simple. I came in, surprised you're rifling my apartment and shot you. See? Will that gun? Why not? You know, I almost wish you would, Morgan. Because ballistics has the bullet taken from my arm and if it matches the one that kills me tonight. You forget it. Why, you meddling fool, you'll be sorry. Good work, Dan, with one arm, too. You better stay where you are, Morgan. Clang? Hey, hey, Clang, the phone, the penitentiary. Oh, I, I took care of that an hour ago. You did what? Sure, I heard the whole thing from outside the window. But, but you said the case was closed. You couldn't work on it. I've got news for you, Danny boy. I'm off duty. You said nobody could tell the difference between typists. That he did, Susie. And I bluff about the bullet. Well, any bluff in a poker game, Clang. Oh, by the way, let me ask you one question. Yeah? What? Why did you hold off until the last minute? Oh, I had time. Morgan wouldn't dare kill you until after Kirby was executed at 1130. So I looked at my watch and I figured I had time to get the headquarters, pull strings to stop the execution and get back to you. Lieutenant Clang. Watch, Susie. Look at your watch. It's stopped. Oh, that's nothing. It does that every once in a while. Just shake it and, uh... Oh, holy cats. Oh, no. Good night, Susie. Next week, same time, through the courtesy of Paramount Pictures, Alan Ladd stars as Dan Holliday in Box 13. Box 13 is directed by Richard Sanville, with an original story by Robert M. Light, adapted for radio by Russell Hughes. Original music is composed and conducted by Rudy Schrager. Part of Susie is played by Sylvia Picker and that of Lieutenant Clang by Edmund MacDonald. Production is supervised by Vern Carstensen. Box 13 is a Mayfair production from Hollywood. Watch for Alan Ladd in his latest Paramount Picture.