 W-O-R, New York, 710 on your dial. Now for a transcribed drama of Murder by Experts. The Neutral Broadcasting System presents Murder by Experts with your host and narrator, Mr. John Dixon Carr, world-famous mystery novelist and author of the recently published bestseller, The Life of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. This is John Dixon Carr. Each week at this time, Murder by Experts brings you a story of crime and mystery which has been chosen for your approval by one of the world's leading detective writers, those experts who are themselves masters of the art of murder and can hold tense at his fire. This time, our guest expert is the noted mystery novelist, Lawrence Blockman. From his vast knowledge of the mystery field, Mr. Blockman has chosen a radio classic written by Joseph Roscoe. And now he presents Miss Marilyn Erskine in The Creeper. It is the hour before dawn, that moment when the huge sprawling metropolis lies deep in slumber. The streets are empty, safe for the milkman, making his rounds from one darkened apartment house to another. But look now, there on the third floor, an apartment is brightly lighted. The occupant is an attractive redhead in her early twenties. She sits curled on a couch, speaking on the telephone as the radio plays softly. Like I'm telling you Gladys, I'm waiting on my table. Pay no attention to this guy. I can see of course that he's given me the eye, but good. What did he look like? Oh, he was the Gary Cooper type. Oh, lanky and sunburned, bashful too. Anyway, he's sitting at one of my tables, trying to get up near enough to start a conversation. I'm polite, but nothing else. Well, it's 2 a.m. and we're getting ready to close the place when he finally speaks his mind. What did he say, Virginia? What did he say? He was from out of town, and this was his first visit to New York. Oh, Gladys, I think somebody's trying to get into my apartment. What? Yeah, but the door knob is turning. Oh, it's probably some drunk at the wrong apartment. Oh, he's putting his key in the lock right now. So what? You've got your night lock on, haven't you? No, it's broken. Gladys, I'm scared. There's nothing to worry about. He'll go away when he finds his key won't unlock the door. Oh. Because I can't stand to hear about it. How can you go on eating without batting an eye? Well, I... I'll see the rest. Interesting. Oh, you... Don't go turning on that radio again, Steve Grant. I've heard enough. I'll go out of my mind for heaven's sake. Yes. That's a good, solid clue. What is? What haven't you said? How many men use that? Oh, shut up. Okay, Mrs. Grant. Pass the biscuits, my little pigeon. Pass the biscuits. Eat, eat, eat. Three women in three days murdered in cold blood by a fiend right here in the height. I'm too sick to go off. Too scared to stay in. The lock's broken. And he sits there eating. Pass the biscuits, he says. There's nothing wrong with my appetite, my love. Of course. That would cost you your job on the police force. You were in a restaurant eating when you should have been answering a call. Well, some men drink to escape. I eat. Escape what? An ugly tongue, a beautiful face, an eroding eye. In short, a wife. Oh, if you're talking that again, you'll be a crazy jealousy. Maybe the creeper's way of escaping life isn't drinking or eating. But, uh, strangulation. You know it. Shut up. Go ahead and get a divorce. Go ahead. Can I help it if men look at me? I don't know why you come home at all. Where do you go? What do you do with your time? Where were you this morning? Why did you come back? Sweet. But someday I'll lose my appetite for that, too. When I do, honey, there'll be no escape. Now, I'm off again. Kiss? You're using stage lipstick again. Wipe it off. How many times must I tell you? You're married now, remember? Steve, wait. At least so much money, Edison. Sorry, no time. Don't leave me alone. Stay home today, please. I'm afraid. Oh, don't be silly. That nothing will happen to you. You've a dormant, an elevator boy, Mrs. Stone across the hall, a phone. You're safe there. But the night lock, it doesn't work. Well, now you can't lock me out anymore. It doesn't catch. Something's happened to it since last night. Steve. Get a new one. I can't get a lock, but they're all so busy. I'll try it all morning. If I want to phone you, where will you be? Out. Goodbye, love. Take care of your cold. Curly chase. Hey, you got thrown off the force, Steve. Yeah. You got thrown off the news, Curly. Yeah, you heard wrong. I wasn't fired. I was just worn. I wasn't fired either. Just suspended. For three days. My trouble is I eat too much. I drink too much. I hear you're living up at the height, Steve. Yeah. It's funny me too. Hear you're married now to a gal at the knock-out. As all the boys wish them. Yeah, you can say that again. Used to be on the stage, you know. Yeah, I think I knew her. Wasn't a stage named Vicky DuVal? That's her. I love that winch, but how does a guy handle it? Maybe the creeper has the right method. Thank you for taking the words out of my mouth. Who is the creeper, Steve? You got any anger? You tell me and I'll split the reward with you. One thing, though, and I don't think even the police force have put it together yet. In all three cases, just before the creeper struck, the door locks had already been changed a bit. You don't say. You got a theory? Well, sure. I mean, take that note on the wall written with lipstick for heaven's sake in every case. For heaven's sake, catch me before I kill more. I cannot control myself. Right. Now, what man uses an expression like that? The long and short of it is this. A creeper is a woman. A roost. Just like the height of the message from the floors that was six feet. And yet I'll lay odds to creepers no more than a guy your height says. Or mine. Five feet and nine. Well, go on. Let's have the rest, Sherlock. OK. That business of the three locks that were tampered with, they were tampered with from the inside. I don't get it. That creeper must have gotten into each of the apartments when no one was home and broken the night lock. That made it an easy setup when he came back later to knock off his victim. Oh, how could he have gotten in to begin with? Those were solid locks. A picklock would open them. You mean the creeper's a burglar? Maybe. Oh, well. Oh, not you and your theory. Yeah? How do I know where the creeper's going to strike next? You do? Certainly. The creeper's not smart. He's just crazy. You play along crazy. Think the way he does. And you'll one jump ahead of him. That's the trouble with the police and all imagination. How can you expect logical clues from a madman? Play along crazy, Steve. Make out you're the creeper. What's your compulsion? Go ahead. Let's see. All right. First, the victims are all redheads. Everyone. Three redheads in three days. They've come to think of it. Now that you mention it... Yeah, they all lived in the high strikes. Rita Croft is Claire Nixon and Virginia Peters. All right. What was the number of the apartment in each case, huh? Rita lived in 1A. Claire 2B. Virginia 3C. Don't ask me the why or where, or don't ask me the logic. Just play along crazy. You'll see what I mean. You'll see where he's going to strike next. I don't get what you mean. The next victim of the creeper lives in the high. She's a redhead. Her night locks are tampered with. She's going to get hers today and her apartment number's 4D. Well, why are you staring at me? You don't like my arithmetic? Why are you staring at me? My wife's a redhead, play. We live on the heights. Apartment numbers... Ah, you're just a boozy reporter. Your apartment number? 4D, I told you. 4D, of course. I'll have it delivered. Apartment 4D, I should have guessed it anyway. Why? A face is a number, believe me. Since you've moved into the neighborhood, Mrs. Grand, for me it has a special number. It's like double dented, delicious green parties, you see? Go on, I'll fit you to tell that to every customer, female. I'm a lady's man, like the creeper. What did I say? What's going on in this block of raw nerves? You can't joke? The creeper, the creeper. That's all I hear all day. Well, it's mass hysteria. There ain't no such an arrangement. You don't think so? Why, I assure you, Mrs. Grand, it's just a fairy tale for circulation of the tabloids. I'll send your prescription up to the board. No, I'll just wait here for it. Well, it'll take some time. You should go right home and stay there if you're just getting over the flu. Now, believe me. I'll deliver it myself. It'll be a pleasure. No, no, I'll wait. I may not go right back. I don't want to be there all alone. Well, suit yourself, Mrs. Grand. Why are you staring at me? I'm always admiring your lipstick. I've nothing like that in stock. It's a special lipstick. I used it when I was on the stage. Well, don't let the creeper go right in a note with your lipstick. Have a seat. For heaven's sake, stop me before I kill more. What? I cannot control myself. Wait, wait. There was a note I had referenced to it. It was a joke, that's all. Wait, Mrs. Grand, your prescription. Oh, it's you, Mrs. Civil. What does that just scare? Didn't all these awful murders in this neighborhood? Oh, yes. Isn't it terrible? You walking home? I guess. I'll go with you. It's good we live in the same house. At least if I had a double lock. But the night one doesn't work. I can't get a last miss though. Oh, don't you worry. We'll stay together this afternoon until our husbands come home. Think of it. We're visited, so we live right across the hall from each other. Isn't that just like a big city for heaven's sake? Oh, would you rather I drop in on you? Well, I don't all make it yours then. Isn't it horrible? The ghastly things they're saying? Repairies. One doesn't know what to think next. You believe the latest? The latest? That maybe it's a woman, the creeper. A woman? Can you beat it? I can't imagine how in the world you'd figure that for heaven's sake. Can you? I don't know. I was just thinking of something while I was thinking. Well, I can see where a married woman now, if her husband was two-timing her, perhaps only weak and no will of his own. And if the wife, say, was merely getting at those female homebreakers, well, I can understand that. Because you take my husband now. You've met Mr. Stone, haven't you? You're Mrs. Grant. Anna, you still get me like that for heaven's sake. I don't feel well. I must have gotten home at once. I feel pain. But Mrs. Grant, you are heaven's sake. Just spelling Charlie, he's fixing the fuse box. Help you with your packages. No, thank you. I don't mind a bit. Look out of breath. I don't want to. Where's Jimmy, the elevator guy? He stepped out for a few minutes. I'll take you up. But I... He mightn't be back for another five, ten minutes. No point in waiting for him. No, I suppose not. Apartment for the... Well, yes, how did you know? It doesn't take long. Funnily enough, both Charlie and Jimmy show up, leaving you to run things alone. Particularly seeing you and you. Oh, I don't mind. The last place I worked, I was the only man. Where was that? 522 Smedley Avenue. 522 Smedley Avenue? Yes. Right next door to the apartment house where the creeper is trying to free the caucus. Suppose you, uh, read about it. Yes. What's wrong? Why did you stop? Right. We seem to be stuck. Stop this elevator. Stop this elevator at once. No need to get excited, Mrs. Grand. Take it easy. You'll live long. And figure what went wrong. You don't fool me, not for a minute. I'll scream if you don't. Oh, there we are. Oh, Charlie must have cut off the curtain. Let me off. Let me off. Need to help you with your packing? No. No. I want to know how soon I can get my lock changed. Yes, of course I left my order. Fix it at once. Hello, baby. Don't you little fool. It's me. You want the whole house? What are you doing here, Bernie? I'm playing along, crazy. What are you talking about? How did you get in here? Fairly Valentine. Don't worry. You're having a thing to be upset about now. I've come to protect you. Give me the phone. Hello? Never mind about the lock. Thank you. Long time no see, Vicki. What do you want, Bernie? Me? A headline. Your husband wants to. He wants I should keep an eye on you. What's that? Sure. You didn't think Steve and I were acquainted, did you? Oh, yeah, yeah, from way back. Just met him at a bar. I don't believe you. What do you mean, keep an eye on me? Oh, just in case they're creepy. Oh! You heard the carrot. He's a mad. You've always been mad, Bernie James. Where is Steve? Why should he send you? Why should he think the creeper will come here? What are you doing here? Oh, yeah. Playing along, crazy. You got a drink? You're drunk now. You're getting right out of here. You're nothing but a no-good rummy. And you're nothing but a no-good. You think shit. When I took the drink, it was to forget you and you know it. Well, Rumpart Angel. Which means I haven't gotten over you. Yet. Get out. You little two-timing redhead. Now you're all the same, you redhead. What? Haven't changed, have you? Even a wedding ring can't do that to you. Ah, don't play with me. My business is snooping. I make a living at it. Between drinks. So your new models love thy mover, huh? Mr. Stone, across the hall. Dirty salesman. Sit down, darling. Just play along with me while I play along, crazy. Sit down. Like we're expecting company. I must be crazy doing this. Why wait here for the creeper? Why not a hundred other streets? A thousand other apartments. A million other days, because I'm riding my house. Yeah, let's have some music, don't you stick. Let's have some music. Turn on the radio, let's dance. It's been a long time, baby. A long time. That's it. Now let's dance. Give me your arm, let's dance. Like old times. Around and around, like my brain. Why you tremble? I still love you a little. Ask me why? I love you, I love you, I love you redhead. I could kill you when you deserve it. With the radio on, you could scream and no one would hear. I could put my hand on your throat like this and I could strangle you. Why are you crying? Stop it. I'm here to protect you, stop crying. Cut it out, I say cut it out, I can't stand it. I never could. Okay, you want me to leave? It's your funeral, what am I saving you for anyway? Where's my hat? In a few minutes, there'll be a knock or a ring or a door just open and you'll be lying on the floor like the other three. Your face black, your eyes bulging. Goodbye, my worthless. Give my regards to the creeper. Look in his eyes, like a madness. What if he comes back? Like the other three, like the other three. There'll be a knock. The drugist is here with the medicine, shall I let him up? My medicine? Why, yes. You hear? Don't you dare come up. Don't hit me once. Please, I must have changed right away. Mrs. Brandt, you come right away. Oh, thank you so much. Thank you, but not when I hear you. I don't know what came over. My job had me down, but now everything's okay. I've been bad, bad, wicked. Oh, you knew what I've gone through today, the most dreadful state, and then that. You sent someone here today. Early Chase? Then you did. I know I just got rid of him. All right, guy, smart reporter. Lives in the neighborhood too. Honey, it sounds cock-eyed. I mean, Perley's theory, but I was a bit worried when I got to thinking, so... Vicki, don't let anyone in the house till I get home. I won't, Steve. Not anyone. Do you hear? Not anyone. Locksmith. Oh, wait, Steve. Locksmith. Wait, Steve. Oh, thank goodness it lasts. No, I can breathe easy. Just a minute, dear. Goodness, you've come. Please step in. It's the lock on this door that I... Oh, just a moment. My husband's on the phone. Something else I wanted to tell you. It's all right. Everything's all right now, Steve. You needn't worry. Didn't I just hear you talking to someone? Was that someone at the door? It was no one, Steve. Just Mr. Frank the Locksmith here to fix the lock. Oh, what a load of... The Locksmith? Listen, Vicki. That's what I was going to tell you. What is it? The police are on a new trail. They think maybe a locksmith... Vicki, are you listening? Maybe the creepers. A locksmith. Get him out quick. What nice lipstick you use, Mrs. Grant. It's a lovely shade. Vicki, answer me, Vicki. Are you all right? Catch me before I kill more. For heaven's sake. Did he death? Yeah, a pearly chase. Yeah, shut up and listen. On that creeper story I just gave you. Add this, though. The reward for his capture goes to the elevator boy. He heard Vicki Grant scream and called a cop. The creeper was shot running from the building. Yeah, ironical, wasn't it? The locksmith was the killer. The one man Vicki thought would protect him. What an ending to a lovely, lovely redhead. And so the curtain falls on the creeper, which was chosen by guest expert Lawrence Blockman, whose latest thriller is Bengal Fire. Next week at this time, Murder by Experts brings you a story or through which three persons make a bet with death with seven million dollars is the stake selected for your approval by the noted mystery writer, Miss Frances Crane. Until then, this is your host, John Dixon Carr, hoping you'll be with us next week at this time. Starting a week from tomorrow on Sunday, July 31st, Murder by Experts will be heard every Sunday night at 10 o'clock and starting next Saturday at this time between half past two and three in the afternoon, you'll hear a brand new show, The Damon Runyon Theatre. Today's program came to you by transcription. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System. In 25 seconds, you'll hear International Airport. 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