 Good evening. Tonight our stage has been taken over by the crime photographer, written by Longer Dean Cole, and based on the fictional character of Slash Gun Casey, created by George Hormann Cotts, and played by Stats Cotts with. Casey, ace cameraman of the Morning Express, covers the crime use of a great city. It's a venture for tonight, the reunion. About nine o'clock in the evening, a luxurious suite in our city's most expensive hotel. One of its present occupants is a strikingly beautiful woman. In her hands is the latest fashion magazine, but she stares at it without interest. I mean... I mean... Yes, Ruth? You haven't turned up page in that magazine for half an hour. I've been thinking. Oh, I mean... Why don't you put him out of your mind? If a man had done to you what my husband has tried to do to me, could you drive it from your mind? Yes, I am. I made Kurt a success. He was just a poor weakling when I met him. I made him a great sculptor. I made him rich and famous. Now he's repugnant, but he's not going to get away with it. Your lawyers will think about that, I will. They told you they can nullify that divorce Kurt got from you? When I think of the rottenness of my... Don't tell me anymore. When you and I were in South America, the bit Kurt persuaded me to take from my head. All the while, he was establishing residence out of the state to divorce me for abandonment. Then when we came home four days ago, we found he's been granted his divorce and was a fucking dear son of a bitch. And he was preparing to marry another woman. That dick's the only she's capable of. He'll say no to them. And I think that I... I want to kill him. I don't want to kill him, Ruth. I want to keep him. Keep him? Yes. Well... No other woman is going to have him. Tomorrow I'm going to sign the papers for the notification of the divorce, and I... Will you answer that, Ruth? Excuse me. Hey, I'm not here. All right. Hello? Mrs. Volta isn't here. I'm a tender her cousin. Who's this? Hold the line a minute. It's a man I believe he insists that he's got to talk to you. Who is he? He... His voice sounds a little like your husband. Kurt? Yes. All right. Yeah. Hello, this is Mrs. Volta. Oh. All right, wait a minute. Ruth, will you please go into the bedroom and shut the door? Well, yes, of course. Don't be angry with me, I'll... I'll tell you all about it later. Hello. Ruth, forgive me for sending you out of the room. I will. I'm going out. You've got to help me dress in the prettiest things I have. Thank heaven my hair was decently done today. Ruth, what is this? Was it Kurt? No, no, it wasn't Kurt. Darling, hand me that cold cream jar. Yeah. Is that other man is making you dress in your best? Yes. A pretty... A pretty... Since that telephone call I've been... You'll just have to restrain your curiosity. And for several days, I don't expect to come back here tonight or tomorrow night. Maybe I won't come back for a week. But don't worry, Ruth, and don't try to find me. I'm going to be happy again, dear. Altogether happy. What is it? Hello. Thank you. This is Anne. Anne and William. Nobody with that name here. You've got the wrong number. Hey, hey, wait a minute, wait a minute. What? Wake up, you don't wake up. Annie, huh? No, he doesn't. What's the big idea of foaming at this hour? You've heard me speak of Ruth Tender. Have I? Yes, you have. She's a college student. And she's a cousin of the rich and very beautiful Mrs. Kurt Bowman. You mean the wife of the big sculptor? Indeed, I do. Now listen, Ruth told me a few minutes ago and told me that Mrs. Bowman disappeared ten days ago and has not been heard from since. Yeah? Yes. Ruth hasn't notified the class yet, so we're getting first in on what may be a good story. Well, give me all the dope, Annie. How can I give you? Ruth will tell us the story as soon as we get to the hotel. Okay, Annie, I'll pick you up in about twenty minutes. Mrs. Casey, Irene left the street on Friday night, ten days ago, at about ten o'clock. And that's the last I've seen or heard from her. Oh, yes, it was, listen, Mrs. Bowman told you that she might be away for a week. Now maybe she's just staying wherever she is a little longer than she intended. But she's not where I thought she was going then. Miss Chandler, you figured that Mrs. Walter was joining her husband for a reunion. It was the only thing I could think of, Mr. Casey. Until just before I phoned you this morning, I learned there hasn't been any reunion. You went to Walter's home? Yes. I talked to Mrs. Royce, his housekeeper. She told me that during the past ten days, Curtis has been working almost constantly in this studio. It's attached to the house. And that Irene hasn't been there. Sure, she told you the truth? The part of it. She and I are old friends. She wouldn't lie to me. Mr. Casey, do you think I should ask her? But at least to look for Irene? No, I wouldn't. You know how women feel. It'll just been separated from their husbands. Maybe she just... Well, she might be. To say, is this photograph on the piano a picture of your cousin? It is. This was taken some time ago. About fifteen years ago, soon after her marriage, at the time she was posing for the statue that made her husband famous. The Sleeping Goddess? No, but... Yeah, I've seen copies of the original. I found it like sculptures and paintings. So, Mrs. Walter modeled for them. Annie, this face isn't just beautiful. It's got power in it, real power. It has, though. No photographs can do Irene's cool justice. He has the most wonderful hair, Mr. Casey, two golden hairs. Yes, Anne told me about that. Well, I think he had to go into temperamental rages because he discovered not a painter. He couldn't reproduce her hair in bronze or marble, of course. Ms. Chandler, when you talked to his housekeeper this morning, did you ask her where Walter was on the Friday nights your cousin left here? Mrs. Royce remembered that he worked in this studio all that night until about eight o'clock in the morning. He was doing some knowledge of construction work on a mold. Did she see him working there? No, he never met anyone in the studio when he was working. Then he could have gone out for a while. Mr. Casey, I believe you have the same awful idea that I have. That Kurt might have slipped out of the studio unseen. He met Irene somewhere and... and killed her. Did you let this Mrs. Royce know of your suspicion? No. I even asked her not to tell anybody that I did not see her this morning. I don't know who I am. I just did. Good. I'd like to talk to Walter. Before he knows a search has been started for Mrs. Walter, I just might catch him off guard. Just might. Well, let's go, Anne. Mr. Walter will see you in this lady, Mr. Casey. He's in the studio. Please come this way. Oh, thank you. You're Mrs. Royce, aren't you? Yes. How did you know my name? Oh, Ruth Sandberg told us all about you. Here we are. Hello. The ladies and gentlemen from the morning express, Mr. Walter. Ms. Williams and Mr. Casey. It's a great pleasure to know you. Walter was nice of you to let us barge in on you like this. I'm always glad to receive newspaper people. You know, I have a special regard for the morning express. It's odd that it's always been very flattering about my work. He sent you here, of course. Oh, yes, yes. We're from the art department. Would you want anything, Mr. Walter? No, thank you, Mrs. Royce. You can go. Well, sit down, Ms. Williams. Thank you. Have a cigarette. Yes, yes. I'd like one. Mr. Casey, no surprise. I will join you. I have a match ready already. Here you are. Mr. Walter? Thanks. No, no, please. Do not light your own with that, Mr. Casey. Not three on a match. Okay, since you're a superstar, you see, I was born in Europe in a little mountain village where people still believe in witchcraft, ghosts, and romance. I have afraid my many years in this enlightened country have not completely eradicated my early teaching. I say, this is an enormous studio, you have. Three sculptures require a great deal of room. Yes. That's the model of your sleeping goddess must be over eight feet long. Mm-hmm. Certainly a masterpiece. I never thought of the original. You are looking at the original now. I thought that was somewhere in Germany. I must explain my method of working. First, like old sculptures, I make a wax or clay model of my conception. But when it is only roughly complete, I take from it a mold and then make a casting of plaster. On the plaster cast, I carve my finishing touches. Another mold is then taken for the final casting of metal. This model provides it the final mold. It's a true original, then. Yes. It's now almost right. You see, it runs replica was destroyed by a bomb during the war. This really is worth planning, then. Many consider it my greatest work. I understand the model who posed for it was your wife. Yes. She is now my ex-wife. We are divorced. Yes. She looked like this sleeping goddess. She was certainly some woman. More like a goddess than a woman. She had the most wonderful hair in the world. But he was not of this world. This is not Okada. Okay. Hey. When did you make this plaster model, Mr. Baldwin? Fourteen, fifteen years ago. Why? The head feels damp, like fresh plaster. The head? That cannot be. Feel it? He's not damp. What do you say, Miss William? You don't drive me, Casey. Huh? Yeah. Funny. When I first touched it, it felt cold and crammy. Like death. I see you don't have to go through your house to get in or out of this studio, Mr. Baldwin. There's a door leading directly outside. Yes. Will the story you and Miss Williams do about me concern this sort of thing? Well, hey, we must be getting to that story, yes. We want to hear about your most recent work, Mr. Baldwin. My current work is this group here. Oh, hey, that's a bigger hunk of plaster than I got it, sir. That's what you call hunk of plaster. It will bring me thirty thousand dollars when I've been brought. Wow. You're in a good business. What do you call this group? I call it the reunion. The reunion? Yes. It is a symbolic conception. When did you cast that plaster? Why, just ten days ago. I set up my mood and worked all night. All Friday night? It was a Friday night. And you call it the reunion? You see, the story you've just been telling me ends up to nothing more right now than a case for the missing person's bureau. I'm a homicide cop. My hunch says this is a homicide case, Logan. I have the same feeling, Captain. So have I. This police department can't take the drastic action you propose on the strength of mere hunches and feelings. I haven't proposed any drastic action, Logan, until after a thorough routine missing person's search has been made for Mrs. Walter. If she isn't found alive or dead within a reasonable length of time, well, I've told you where to look. You believe that she went about her studio in response to his phone call through the door that leads her directly from outside, and he let her in, killed her, and hit her body in the mold he was setting up that night. Then he surrounded it with plaster. I think you'll find Mrs. Walter is in a model he so symbolically calls the reunion. Hello, Casey. Hi, Ms. Williams. Hi. How are you? Hello. I haven't seen you two all day. What do you have to drink? Oh, give me a cup of coffee. Gee, Casey, you must be feeling low. What are your troubles? We can put them in three little words, that'll work. The Volcker case. Say, why don't the cops quit stalling on them? They're never going to find Mrs. Walter till they look in a place you told them to, Casey. Today they did look for her in a place I told them to. Uh-uh. You mean? Yes. I was wrong. Mrs. Volcker's body was not in the plaster model of reunion. In order to find that out, Logan's men had to bore holes in the model and they broke it all up. Now Volcker's going to sue the city for $30,000. He claims it was worth plus additional damages for right now. All his lawyers are throwing up a swell bill of goods. Sure, the worst of it is he's pretty sure to win a suit. Logan will probably lose his job on account of it. He gave the order to bore into the statue on the strength of my hunch. Gee, the poor sap trusted me because, well, by sheer dumb luck, I've given them a couple of good steers in the past. This time I let him down for fear and how. Oh, Casey, he doesn't blame you. Yeah, I know that. But don't ever tell a big dope I said this, but... Logan's a pretty swell egg. Because Mrs. Volcker's body wasn't hidden that statue, does it mean her husband's now in the clear? Sure it does. The only place he could have hidden their body was inside the freshly poured plaster that reunion model. Wait a minute, Miss Williams. Couldn't he have hidden the body in a closet or someplace around the house and then sneaked it out later? No, Mrs. Royce and her cleaning woman would have found it. Oh, of course not. And there's only one other model in the studio large enough to hide a human body in, and that was cast 15 years ago. Those plaster castings have a hollow core. Oh, so what, Casey? Who'd even gotten the body inside the sleeping goddess? Walter would have had to cut a big hole in the old plaster, and then afterwards patch it up with fresh stuff, which would show you how. So ahead of the sleeping goddess, it felt cold and damp like fresh plaster that day. Didn't to me, Casey, and you said it didn't to you either after a minute. Yeah, that's funny. That's what started my hunch about Mrs. Volcker being buried in plaster. When her husband said he'd cast that reunion piece on the night she... Annie. I've doped the guy all wrong. He was smarter than I thought. That reunion model was only a planned decoy. He put her inside the sleeping goddess. Then he deliberately led you and me in the cops to believe her body was in the reunion box. And now that we've found she isn't there... Oh! Ah-ha, you've got it. The city stands to lose 30 grand plus for that mistake. No sane cop is going to take a chance like that again. If you're right... If he's right, Ethelberg, Mr. Kurt Volcker is going to get away with murder. Yeah. Say, Casey, why don't you sneak into that studio on a dark night, bust open that statue? And what if I didn't find the body, Ethelberg? Volcker wouldn't bother to sue me. He didn't have me put away until about 1966. Uh, I got no more suggestions. I hadn't even got a thought. I have. Yeah? What? And I'm going out to see Mrs. Royce, Volcker's housekeeper, and ask her one confidential question. No, Mr. Casey. Since the night he made that pass the casting of his reunion group, Mr. Volcker has never gone into his studio after that. I see. I thought it rather strange. He used to do so much work in there at night. Well, thanks, Mrs. Royce. Why have you asked me about that? I've been thinking. Thinking. I was born in Europe, in a little mountain village where people still believe in witchcraft, ghosts, and all men. I've sometimes thought Kurt insane on the subject of Irene's hair. He couldn't reproduce it in bronze or marbled. He had the most wonderful hair in the world, but it was not. Yes, Mrs. Royce. I've just been thinking a kind of crazy thought. This scheme of yours is absolutely nuts. Call it a long shot then, Logan, and play it with me, will you? If it happens to work, you save your job. The town saves at least 30 grand. I save my peace of mind, and we'll have the goods on a rotten killer. Okay, pal. I'll take a chance. Good evening, Mr. Walter. Good evening, Mr. Walter. It is not evening. It is almost midnight. Why have you insisted upon seeing me at this hour? Well, it's a kind of peculiar thing, Mr. Walter. Mr. Walter, do you believe in dreams? Dreams? Yes, dreams. Casey here had a very funny dream last night. Why should I concern you, Mr. Walter? You see, I dreamed about Mrs. Walter. Right. Ex-wife? Uh-huh. I dreamed that she talked to me. She talked to you? Yes. She wasn't like a woman in my dream. She looked like that statue of yours she posed for, that sleeping goddess. She was the goddess. Only a wink. A wink? Uh-huh. Okay, see, tell him the funny thing she said to you in your dream. Okay, Logan, I will. Mr. Walter, she said, I am the goddess awake because my life is in my statue. She said her life was, uh-huh, uh-huh, and her hair with a shiny gold color I've heard Mrs. Walter had. So bright. It seemed to have light in it. Why have you come here to tell me about this? Because in my dream she told me to come here. She told you? Just before midnight, she said. It's almost that. Now, Casey, we've got to move fast. Yeah, come on, Walter. In the studio. In my studio. She told Casey to have you there at midnight. It's like striking 12 now. Come on. All right. Liz, let me go. I'll get you. He wants you in the studio, Walter, where she's waiting for you. Waiting for me? The goddess awake with shiny gold hair. Don't open that studio door. Don't push me in time. We're leaving you. And in the dark. Open your door. Let me out. Light switch to the book. Open this door. Don't leave me alone here in the dark. I'm alone, Walter. The goddess is awake in there. No. No, no, no. Golden light. That golden light. It rises. It moves this way. No, no, no. Don't come any closer. I'm sorry, I mean it. I had to bring you. You rules me. I had to be your slave. The slave of your will. It's too good in here. It's not my heart. I had to kill you. I had your body in it. Sleeping on it. I had to make you sleep forever. Don't come any closer. Forgive me. I'm late. We've heard enough. Anything? All we need, Logan. Switch on your flashlight. Okay. Casey, I'm glad to have the mic in here. You did a swell job, Annie. I was scared. You know what? I was scared. I... I didn't like the thing that goes in the dark. You scared, Mr. Kirk, Walter. A lot more, Miss Williams. He's faded. He did? I figured all he needed was to see the shadow of a woman with a luminous wig rising behind that plastic statue and walk slowly toward him. Casey, I'll never do this kind of job again. I'll never do what he did. Hey, look at that. You're trembling to him now. What's the matter? I don't know. I... I don't know why. Do you know what happened? Oh. It was midnight. When you pushed Walter through the door and I went into my act, I got suddenly afraid. Afraid of Walter? No. I'm afraid of her. Anyway... Hey, Casey! Walter! Walter hasn't fainted. He's dead. Dead. Hey, Miss Williams, you never got very close to him with that blonde wig here, did you? No. What is it, Walter? Look at this dead guy's neck, Casey. A single golden hair is wrapped around it, almost like a noose. Oh, please. That rings down the curtain. This is an ominous portrayal for the night. The reunion, a crime photographer story written by Alonso Dean Cole, is based on the fictional character of Flash Gun Casey, created by George Hormann Cutts. Stats Cuttsworth was heard as Casey, and Miss Leslie Woods played Anne. Until next time... Creep? Good night. Sleep tight. This is the Armed Forces Radio Service.