 President will notice, Stange is my stock and trade. If the job's too tough for you to handle, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. Standard of California, on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the west, invites you to let George do it. Sweet poison. Another adventure of George Valentine. Dear Mr. Valentine, I'm writing to you because I don't know where else to turn, and in this hour of need I must turn somewhere. Can you hear me? Hello, can you hear me, Mr. Valentine? Yes, of course I can, but who are you? What are you calling me? Please don't interrupt, Mr. Valentine. I've already wasted five minutes writing full details the way your ad says to, but if you won't listen, if you make me send it through the mail, it'll be too late. All right, lady. Go on and reach your letter. Thank you. It is essential that you come at once to solve a crime. Please hurry, because Mr. Valentine, there has been a murder at our house. Where? Mr. Valentine. At our house, and I need your help desperately. Sign yours truly, Gloria Bishop, 603 North 72nd Street. I'm sorry, we don't want any, not even samples. Come again sometime. George. Exit, will you, and don't forget to take your foot out of the door. This is 603 North 72nd Street, isn't it? Darling, it is also Monday afternoon, and on Monday there is a deadline, and inside is a man at work who doesn't like to work, not even on Monday. So please, if you love your fellow man... Hello, Mr. Melville. I hate you both. Nobody! I like you too, Melville. Where? Hello, nobody. Ah, the name's Valentine. This is Miss Brooks. How do you do? No bother, guys. Sit down. We'll talk. Know anything about vintage wines? Political? Cooking? Jonas, please ignore them like they never happened. Get back to the easel. It's three o'clock. There's a whole lithograph company waiting. Silence! Forgive my rude friend, Mr. Valentine. This is Melville Barn, my publisher. Publisher? If I don't look the type, it's from smoking too many cigars and pulling out too many gray hairs. Men's magazines, that's my line. But what's in men's magazines? Women. And how do women get in men's magazines? By me trying to make characters like Jonas here work. Hold it, hold it, hold it, will you? The drawings on the wall, all of them girls. He calls you Jonas. Well, you're the famous painter. Went with Jonas, aren't you? Your clairvoyance is frightening, young man. The Jonas girls? Well, of course. I'll bet your name is on every pin I've picked. You needn't spoil my afternoon, Miss Brooks. I know. Ashtray, calendars, neckties. There's nowhere my infamy hasn't reached. But I was an artist once. I painted still life. Beautiful cabbages and beef steak and... And it's three o'clock and there's a girl in a bathing suit carrying a turkey for the Thanksgiving cover. Well, take it the way it is. But you haven't painted the bathing suit yet. Oh, for the last time, gentlemen, stop it, will you? Maybe neither one of you two gentlemen cares, but I came here to see about a murder. Murder? How considerate. If you'll just give me five minutes to lay out the corpse. Okay, skip it, will you? But there's some crazy girl with the name of Gloria Bishop who telephoned me. Gloria? Well, if I didn't say so. Young man, I'll have you know Miss Bishop is the only woman in the world with a figure in my drawing. Go round the back door. What? Of course, my back door. She's my housekeeper. A girl like that is your housekeeper? Well, what did you think she was? My mother? Come on, come on. You two, Sister Peter. No, no, not again. Hey, wait a minute. Look, what do you want to see before in the first place? I'm getting a little tired. Pushing won't do you any good. I said Peter. Is that so? Oh, George. Yeah, that's better. The perfect bodyguard, huh? You know how to shoot that thing? Hey, what is this? I knock on the back door. Stay away from her, Mac, far away. Otherwise... Daddy! Excuse me. Wow. Hello. I guess you're Gloria Bishop. No question about that, George. Mr. Valentine and Miss Brooks, of course. But did you see a young man? Oh, sure, sure. We bumped into him and left him kind of a hurry. Oh, that's good. I didn't want him here when you... Who is he, Gloria? Oh, Matty Riga. He's just a boy. I met him someplace. I'm always meeting people someplace. Yes, I can imagine. But he is kind of attractive, don't you think? That's adorable. Okay, Gloria, you got us into this managery by yelling murder. Now, come on, fast. Let's have it. Oh, the murder. Well, come here. Come through here. I've been so upset I'm all unstrung. There, you see? A dead cat. Wouldn't you know? He just lies there, not doing anything. And he's so young. His life had barely begun. Did he get run over? Oh, no, I never allow him outside. His name was Hannibal. Never outside, huh? Gloria, what did you feed him? Well, fresh liver. And the rye egg, that's what he's for. Looks like he was poisoned. Oh, I knew it must be something awful like that. He must have got to something. Have you asked Mr. Jones? Oh, no. I haven't told his soul. And I wouldn't dare bother him. He says I should be seen and not heard. He scares me. He does? Well, then why do you work for him? For pay. Isn't that why you work? Yeah. Now, look, Gloria, could that cat have got to any chocolate? Chocolate? Oh, yes, he was practically carnivorous. That means he'd eat anything. But, well, I never keep sweet things around. I mean, if I lost my figure, where would I be? Never mind. But maybe you've got a case at that. Look on his fur here. I think Hannibal died from eating a chocolate cream. Of course I didn't poison the beast, Mr. Valentine. I haven't killed anything for weeks. All right, Mr. Jones. Besides, it didn't occur to me. Cats give me a rash. You know, all across the stomach, like polka dots. So if you expect me to weep copious tears over some silly... I expect you to answer questions, that's all. Chocolate creams, I said. Do you eat them? Ha! My doctor hasn't let me touch anything richer than my pocketbook since the Battle of the Bulls. But if the cat hasn't been out of the house, where did it get? Hold on. Hold on, young lady. I believe there was a box of frustrating things around here somewhere. Well, why didn't you say so? Well, how should I know? Go look for them. Yes, Mr. Jones. I'll help you, Gloria. Ha! Women. Do you know I've painted wishful curves onto their silly skeletons until I'm positively seasick? Yes, well, my heart bleeds for you, Mr. Jones. But just where did you get the candy? Stubborn, aren't you? I don't know. It came through the mail, I suppose. Everything does. Oh, what do you mean? The ridiculous distortion of the female frame that I popularize seems to have dragged me into the limelight, Mr. Valentine. I'm a public hero, like Ali Khan or General Delivery. You get fan mail? By the garbage cans' full. Better as I can't read, cigars I can't smoke, candy I can't eat. Ha! George, here's some wrapping paper about the right size that was in the wastebasket. Ah, yeah. Addressed to Jonas. Mm-hmm. No return address, though. Postmark last night. That's it. I remember unwrapping the... Mr. Jonas, I think somebody sent poison candy to you. A critic? Hmm. Only Gloria's cat got it by mistake. Have you got any particular enemies? Ever received any threats? Only from women's club. No, I... Well, this room was broken into about a week ago. What? At least my desk has been rifled, and Gloria certainly would... Anything taken? My entire fortune. File copies of my income tax return. What else can a man say? All right, let's start taking it seriously. Young man, I take everything seriously. Even myself. But not somebody trying to kill you. Well, what do you expect me to do? Just trying to think. Trying to remember. Gloria, have you found that candy yet? No, I haven't, Mr. Jonas. I'm looking everywhere. Wait a minute. Valentine. He left here walking. Huh? His apartment hotels only a few blocks down the street. Who? Melville Bond, of course. I'd unwrapped this. The cat must have taken it peace. But then I gave the box to Melville. You mean just now? No, no, no. It was early. Around noon. He's been back from forth all day, making me finish his blasted picture. Holy. And by now he's probably eating a lot more than the cat ever did. Wait. I'm just remembering why it seemed like a good idea for him to take it. Huh? It is my birthday. Bond! There he goes, Angel, through the revolving door. Yeah, apartment hotel. That's right. George is coming out again. Hey, Mr. Bond! Back in again. What the... It's George. He's falling. It's just going round and round. Come on. Let's go with that thing, will you? Let's get out of here. Now, here we go. Hey, Bond. Bond, can you hear me, Mr. Bond? Yes. Yes, I... Are you the doctor? No, he's not dead. He's just sick, that's all. But Lieutenant Johnson, when we got to him, he wasn't carrying the box of canned. He must have eaten only a piece or two of it. That's what the hospital says. What'd they do with the rest? I know. Where's the rest of it? That's what I'm talking about. The hospital's got him asleep. How you managed to get mixed up in cases that nobody can tell us. What about his wife? Mr. Jonas said that's why Mr. Bond took the box for his wife's birthday. She hasn't got it. Mrs. Bond has been at a bridge lunch and all day eating carrots, salad, and greens. So now we've got the canvas every place in town that he's been... Hey, Valentine, where you going? Hey! George! Yes, Mr. Valentine, this is Mr. Bond's office. I see. Well, Miss Smith, I wanted to ask... But if it's about Mr. Bond's magazines, that's all over the printer's building. They have all the fun over there, Donut. I'm just the business department, and believe you me, for a girl has been used to a socializer. Yes, I've already been there. Also his club, a restaurant, and a barbershop. No, he gets around, but I don't. When a girl's married to a typewriter... Had Mr. Bond been here, was he carrying a box of candy? No, if you're not the sociable type. Candy. Miss Smith, look, I said has he... Yes, he was here in an hour. And the candy, the candy. A box he picked up at Jonas's. He was going to take it home to his wife. What? He was. Gee, if I'd realized, I mean... Well, he went hurrying out, and he was just sitting there with his umbrella and newspaper. I mean, when a girl's had practically nothing for lunch, and all of that in an office... Smith, I'm afraid to guess. Where's the candy now? Where's that? Where's that? I mean, well, I've always been weak that way. But you won't tell Mr. Bond, will you? There. Here's the box, all right? That's empty. Uh-huh. You're empty. Smith. Coroner's report. 14 brain, phytonic, my oxide and stomach. No hope of counteracting. Miss Smith was dead on arrival. We'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine in just a moment. When do you think your car's engine takes the worst beating? When it's running 40 or 50 miles an hour? No. When it's in stop-and-go traffic? No. Actually, it's when your car's standing still. Automotive engineers have proved that 80% of all wear inside your car's engine begins the moment you turn off the ignition. It's the chemical action of acid-laden moisture forming on cylinder walls, and the result is costly rust. But you can stop this engine wear completely by using RPM motor oil. RPM is specially compounded to keep a moisture-proof film of oil on all internal parts at all times. Even though you left your car standing idle for days or weeks, RPM would not drain off parts. It stays on metal, prevents that acid-laden moisture from touching metal. So no wonder RPM is first choice in the West. It's the oil that stops 80% of engine wear. Ask for RPM motor oil at standard stations and at independent chevron gas stations where they say and mean, we take better care of your car. Now, back to tonight's adventure of George Valentine. A box of poisoned chocolates. One piece killed a cat. And Mr. Jonas gave the box to Melville Bond, his publisher who needed the present for his wife's birthday. However, before Bond ever got home, he tasted the piece or two himself and lived, though sickly, to regret it. The rest of the candy had been left forgotten at the office, and so a poor, unsuspecting secretary, Miss Smith, satisfied her appetite for sweets. Indirect, but it's still murder. And if your name is George Valentine, what bothers you is where did the box come from in the first place? Valentine, the notion that anyone in this wide world would want to kill me is absolutely ridiculous. You mean you'll wish it were? Yes, Mr. Jonas. The candy was addressed to you. But why? Nobody hates me. They love me. The idiot. You mean they love the kind of pin-ups you kind of... Stop telling me what I mean, young man. I've never known how should you be able to. Jonas, please, please listen to what the detective... Melville, take a trip somewhere. Go convalesce. Now, look, both of you. Yes, I'm sick, and this is the thanks I get for worrying about you. Scares you, doesn't it, Melville? Yes, where would your magazine be if your little gold mine were dead? I almost wish I'd thought of you and gone off my diet. Jonas, no, no, please don't joke. It might happen again. Well, now cut it out, both of you, will you? In the first place, it's not going to happen again. Lieutenant Johnson's putting a bodyguard on you, Jonas. A sergeant who'll stay at your house and who'll bring every piece of mail you get down to headquarters unopened. Oh, good. I hope there are lots of bills. And in the second place, Jonas, I don't think so much of your sense of humor. Mr. Valentine, I almost wish I'd gone off my diet and eaten the candy myself. I mean it. Why? I'm thinking of that poor girl just as much as you are. She was reasonably young, reasonably intelligent. You knew Miss Smith? Occasionally she'd bring my checks from Melville to the house. She did just last week. You know, she's the only girl I've ever met who didn't seem envious of that preposterous invention of mine, the Jonas female figure. Miss Smith was not a dreamer. She was well-shaped like a human being, even fat like I am. And for such a rare, honest creature to suffer in my place... Oh, don't get carried away, boy. What should I do? Wear a girdle on my tongue? I know it would be better if I had, because of course I make enemies, Valentine. I just hate to face the fact that an innocent bystander should have taken my medicine. Get to work, will you, Valentine? Find the murderer. Good night. Yeah. Jonas finally broke down and gave us a list of people he'd insulted. Half the town, I'll bet. At a wrapping paper, the box was sent in. We ran through every test known to mankind to dig traces. Results? We've still got the anonymous poison. Oh, great, great. There in an envelope, the boys tell me that the last worldly remains of Miss Smith, an innocent bystander, as the saying goes. But suppose this guy decides to mail somebody else something. How can we stop it? Lieutenant, what about that boy, Maddie Riga, the one who acted so tough with a gun at the back door? Riga? He's a strong arm, that's all. Works for anybody. But connect him with Jonas? No. He's never even met the guy. Listen. What is it you want to bet? Another attempt on Jonas? Or is it our nutty killer sending poison to somebody else through the mail? Or is it your wife saying come home for breakfast? Hello? Johnson speaking. Oh. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Who is it? Noble Bond. Let me hear this. Go on, go on, what's the matter? Get out here, Lieutenant. Get out here quick. But where are you, Mr. Bond? I came over to see Jonas first thing this morning. But no one answered the door. I... please hurry, Lieutenant. But there's a sergeant of mine out there, Douglas. Where's he? I'm an ailing man. Gray hair and I don't feel... What's the matter with you? I'm all right. I just can't stand the sight of blood. Sergeant Douglas? He's all right, though. Knocked out, that's all. Yeah, somebody smashed the vase over his head. See? The most alert sergeant. But where's Mr. Bond? Right where he left us, Miss Brooks, by the telephone. Get his car open. Come on, friend. Wake up. Wake up. Add a Brooksie. Come on now. What is it, George? Get up. Your feet hurt? Your shoes pinched? Does your pocketbook pinched? Why not? Add for a shoe store, Angel. Postcard here on the floor with a sergeant. Huh? Why don't you get it? Maybe our killer is running a repeat performance. At least the mailman's already made a morning delivery. Enjoy. And who's the only person I can think of who could get the drop on Sergeant Douglas? Gloria. Gloria, come on. Well, she's not in her room. Yeah, but if we're right, Angel, there wasn't much time to get away. I'm not in there either. Oh, yes. Ah, hello, Gloria. Cleaning closets. Mr. Valentine, I didn't do anything honest. I didn't mean to hit him so hard. You didn't, why? I didn't, but the vase broke, and I guess it cut him, but I didn't mean to. And then Mr. Bond rang the bell. Like you said, what's happened? Gloria, where are you? You mean what's gonna happen? Slow down, bastard. Get the gun, Angel. Yes. That's more like it. Hey, Valentine, what in the name of... Johnson, meet Maddie Riga, a tough boy. All right, suppose we start with you, Mr. Jonas. Where have you been this morning? I went out for a walk. A walk? Huh. Yes, I've been reflecting. One thing for me to hate the world, but to reconcile myself to the idea that anyone's would dare to hate me enough to want to kill me, I still just can't conceive. Maddie hates you, Mr. Jonas. What's that? He does, Mr. Jonas. Maddie's divinely jealous. Hey, wait a minute. Slow down, kid. That's a cop over there. But you are jealous, Maddie. You won't let anyone come near me. That's right, Gloria. Keep it up, keep it up. Cut it out, both of you. I don't hate him. Hey, Gloria, is he jealous because you live here with Mr. Jonas? No, you're crazy. That's what's good about her, see? She's it, see? She's the girl in the world with a figure like a Jonas pin-up. That makes me a big shot if we know she's my girl. I like it that she's his model. You don't think it's her brain, do you? I'm a big shot. Maddie! Before scandal rears its ugly head, may I point out to you, Junior, that Miss Bishop is my housekeeper, not my model. What? Oh, now look, really. She's the only girl in the world with a figure. I keep Miss Bishop here solely to scare away other applicants for the job. Models make me ill. I invented that hideous pin-up because solely out of the dregs of my mind. Out of your mind? Ha! Well, what's in your mind most of the time, Lieutenant? All right, all right, Skip that. Gloria, you thought Maddie hated your boss. That's why you knocked out Sergeant Douglas, isn't it? Yes, Mr. Valentine. Because something must have come in the mail this morning. Addressed to Mr. Jonas, and you figured it was Maddie who sent it, that he sent the other one too. Well, of course! But I couldn't let him get away with it, and I couldn't let anyone find out either. I mean, I didn't know what to do except get the package and then find out. Well, it just had to be Maddie. Why? Why were you so sure? Oh, gosh! None of us hate Mr. Jonas, not you or Mr. Bond or even the police. It hasn't been in the newspapers yet, and just any old anonymous wouldn't send a second package to the same man unless he was here to know the first one didn't work. I mean, would he, George? Yeah, yeah, out of the mouths of babes. Me? Oh. I know I should be seen instead of heard, Mr. Valentine. Never mind. Never mind. You're at the head of the class. Now, you and Maddie go into the next room, would you? Johnson, have you still got that envelope with the papers and things of Miss Smith? Sure, sure. What are you talking about? I don't know. Maybe it's not important, but motive, maybe. Here, take a look through it, Brooke. See if you find anything. Okay, George. Mr. Valentine, I've been sitting here quietly because I don't feel so good, but you've been leaving me out. I know what that means. You think I'm the one. Well, if you think I hate Jonas, my own best meal ticket... Excuse me, Mr. Bond. I know you don't want him dead. Well, then who does? It must be a crank. That's the first sensible thing you said, Melville. Gloria, let's have the package. What? Come on, come on. The package that came in the mail this morning. The one you took. All right, all right, Mr. Valentine. I'm sorry I took it. Here. Let's see that. Yeah, yeah, same printing. To Mr. Wentworth, Jonas. Same size package, same paper, more candy, no doubt. I hadn't touched it yet. Oh, no, no. Just smeared the fingerprints. That's all. Well, what happens now, Lieutenant? You take it to the police laboratory? That's right. We run it through an X-ray first. Then we take it... Give me that. I'll show you it's all a mistake. There's no poison. No, no, no, no, no, no. There, you see? It's an ordinary box. Now, let go of me. Just one more string inside to pull it out. Hey, it's a firing pin of a grenade. Give me that. Look out! Mr. Valentine, I guess somebody doesn't like me very well. No. No, Jonas, you're wrong. Sending me hand grenades? Poison? You know, I don't feel very well. Well, see, what did you find in that? Well, I found... I mean, here, George. Income tax return. What? Sure, sure. That might do it. Mightn't it. Your old tax return copies. Remember, Jonas taken out of your desk a week ago. George, he said Miss Smith was up here to bring a paycheck a week ago. Hey, hey, what's all this? They were found at Miss Smith's effects. Jonas, so she must have taken them. I don't understand. It's simple, very simple. Nobody hates you. But you could be a relay point for a box of poison candy. But the grenade... Forget the grenade, Johnson. Don't you get it? That candy was meant to deliberately murder a woman who couldn't resist it, Miss Smith. She wasn't any innocent bystander. She was it. What? Yes, Mr. Bond. Does stealing the tax files mean your secretary was curious about how much of Jonas' income you were pocketing? You're crazy. Would I be sending a meal ticket to Grenade? Would I blow up a gold mine? Sure, why not? You're a cautious guy, Mr. Bond. You even ate a piece of candy yesterday to make that one look good. George, he was the only one there when you told Jonas he couldn't open his own man. Sure, Bruxy. He knew the grenade had come down to headquarters unopened. The X-ray'd be harmless. But why would he send the grenade? Someone, somehow, might think Miss Smith wasn't just an unfortunate accident. So pound it in. Everybody hates Jonas. Look for a mythical crank. No, no, Mr. Valentina. I'm not a well man. I feel faint. That's right, sure. Go ahead, faint. That's where you made your mistake. Because this morning you walked into this room, you saw what we saw, that the package was missing. And then, well, who else would have fainted so soon? Who else but the guy who knew what was inside that missing package? All right, faint again. See if we care. Valentina, I tell you, the man had fantastic optimism. Expecting poor Miss Smith to be the... You mean the candy? Oh, I don't think so. He knew you wouldn't eat it. Gloria wouldn't eat it. He knew he'd be at your house on the day it arrived, and you'd give it to him if he asked for it for his wife. How did he know Miss Smith would eat it? Well, how do you know a mouse will eat cheese, a cat will eat milk, and... Yes, George. Did you ever actually hear of a cat eating a chocolate cream? No. Hannibal was carnivorous. He'd eat anything. Ah, are you still here? Haven't you gone home or married a gangster or something? I'm sorry, Mr. Jonas. I'll try to be seen and not heard. But goodbye, Miss Brooks, and goodbye, Mr. Valentine. Well, see, that is our cue. I found that gangsters were fickle. What? Valentine, wait. Don't leave me with this pin-up. She's like a nightmare. Come back to haunt me. My own hideous invention turning on me. Look at her! Oh, no, sir. I just decided I love you, that's all. Oh, good night, Mr. Jonas. Valentine, come back. Doesn't anybody hate me? What earthly good is she? Good night, Mr. Jonas. 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Tonight's adventure of George Valentine has been brought to you by Standard of California on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West. Robert Bailey is starred as George with Francis Robin Smith-Brooksy. Let George do it is written by David Victor and Jackson Gillis and directed by Don Clark. Also heard in the cast were Ken Christie as Lieutenant Johnson, Virginia Greg as Gloria, Stanley Farrar as Von, Ted Osborne as Jonas, Clayton Post as Riga, and Yvonne Patey as Miss Smith. The music is composed and presented by Eddie Dunstetter, your announcer, John Heaston. Listen again next week, same time, same station, to let George do it. This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System.