 Good evening. Creep. Tonight our stage has been taken over by the crime photographer, written by Longer Dean Cole, and based on the fictional character of Flash Gun Casey created by George Hormann Cotts, and played by Stats Cotts away. Casey, ace cameraman of the Morning Express, covers the crime use of a great city. It's adventure 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. Irene. Irene. Yes, Ruth? You haven't turned up page in that magazine for half an hour. I've been thinking. Oh, why, Ruth? 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, Irene. 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 repaid me, but he's not going to get away with it. Dear lawyers will think about Irene. They told you they can nullify that divorce Kurt got from you? When I think of the rottenness of it, I don't anymore. When you and I were in South America, Kurt persuaded me to take for my head. All the while, he was establishing residence out of this state to divorce me for abandonment. Then when we came home four days ago, we found he's been granted his divorce and with a smocking dear son, and he was preparing to marry another woman. That dick is only a few feet capable. He'll say no to them. I find I think of it. I want to kill him. I don't want to kill him, Ruth. I want to keep him. Keep him? Yes. What? No other woman is going to have him. Tomorrow I'm going to sign the papers for the nullification of the divorce. What do you want for that, Ruth? Oh, for keeping me. Hey, I'm not here. All right. Hello. Mrs. Walter isn't here. I'm extended her cousin. Who's this? Hold the line a minute. It's a man. I believe he and his sister have got to talk to you. Who is he? His voice sounds a little like your husband. Kurt? Yes. All right. Yeah. Hello. This is Mrs. Walter. All right. Wait a minute. Ruth, will you please go into the bedroom and shut the door? No. Well, yes, of course. Don't be angry with me. I'll tell you all about it later. Hello. Ruth, forgive me for sending you out of the room. I'm sorry. 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 and... a pretty, some pretty sense of telephone call I mean. You'll just have to restrain your curiosity. And for several days, I don't expect to come back here tonight or tomorrow night. Wow. 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. Oh, what is this? Hello. Hey, this is Anne. Who? Anne and William. Nobody with that name here. You got the wrong number. Hey, hey, wait a minute. Wait a minute. What? Wake up here. Don't wake up. Annie, huh? No, he don't. What's the big idea of foaming at this hour? You'll find down a list. You've heard me speak of Ruth Tender. Have I? Yes, you have. Politicality. And she's a cousin of the rich and very beautiful Mr. Kurt Bowman. You mean the wife of the big doctor? Indeed, I do. Now listen, Ruth told me a few minutes ago and told me that Mrs. Bowman disappeared 10 days ago and has not been heard from since. Yeah? Yes. Ruth hasn't notified the cops yet, so we're getting first in on what may be a good story. Well, give me all the dope, Annie. What can he give you? Ruth will tell us a story as soon as we get to the hotel. Oh, OK, Annie. I'll pick you up in about 20 minutes. Yeah. Mr. Casey, I read that this speech on Friday night, 10 days ago, at about 10 o'clock. And that's the last I've seen or heard from her. Oh, yes, but listen, Mrs. Bowman told you that she might be away for a week. Now, maybe she's just saying wherever she is a little longer than she intended. But she's not where I thought she was going then. Mrs. Chandler, you figured that Mrs. Bowman 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 vote at home? Yes. I talked to Mrs. Royce, his housekeeper. She told me that during the past 10 days, Casey's 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 proof? The part of it. She and my old friend. She wouldn't lie to me. Mr. Casey, do you think I should ask her? The police 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 15 years ago, soon after her marriage, at the time she was posing for the statue that made her husband famous. The Sleeping Goddess? No, Bob. Yeah, I've seen copies of the original. I've found 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 cool justice. He has the most wonderful hair, Mr. Casey, through golden hair. Yes, Anne, tell me about that. Well, I think he had gone to temperamental rages because he discovered not a painter. He couldn't reproduce her hair in bronze or marvelous colors. Miss Chandler, when you talked to his housekeeper this morning, did you ask her where Walter was on the Friday night your cousin left here? Mrs. Royce remembered that he worked in the studio all that night until about 8 o'clock in the morning. He was doing some marriage construction work on a move. 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 why. I... I just did. Good. I'd like to talk to Walter before he knows the search has been started for Mrs. Walter. I just might catch him off guard. Just might. Well, let's go, Annie. Mr. Walter, we'll 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 Chandler told us all about you. Here we are. The ladies and gentlemen from the Morning Express, Mr. Walter, Miss Williamson, Mr. Casey. Ah, it's a great place to know you. How do you do, Mr. Walter? Walter, it 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. Yeah. 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, Miss Williams. Thank you. Mr. Casey, thank you. Have a cigarette? Yes, yes. I'd like one. Mr. Casey, not surprised. 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 the 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 Romans. I have been prayed by many years in this enlightened country. I have not completely eradicated my early teaching, I say. This is an enormous studio, you have. Hey, do these sculptures require a great deal of room? Yeah. It's like the model of your sleeping goddess must be over eight feet long. Mm-hmm. It's certainly a masterpiece. I never saw 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 type of metal. This model provided the final mold. It's a true original, then. Yes. It's now almost right. You see, it runs replica what's destroyed by a bomb during the war. This really is worth planning. 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. 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 it was not of this world. This is not Okada. Okay. When did you make this plaster model, Mr. Baldwin? Fourteen, fifteen years ago. Why? The head feels damp like fresh plaster. There cannot be feel it. It's not damp. Where do you see Miss Williams? You're stone dry to me, Casey. 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. But 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. That's a bigger hunk of plaster than a goddess. That's what you call hunk of plaster. Will bring me thirty thousand dollars when casting bronze. Wow. You're a good business. What do you call this group? I call it the reunion. The reunion? Mm-hmm. Yes. It is a symbolic conception. When did you cast that plaster? Why, just ten days ago, I set up my mold and worked all night. All Friday night? It was a Friday night. And you call it a reunion. You see, the story you've just been telling me ends up to nothing now in a case for the missing person's bureau. I am a homicide car. 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 she went to Walter's studio in response to his phone call through the door that leads there 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 with plaster. I think you'll find Mrs. Walter is in a model he so symbolically calls the reunion. Hello, Casey. Hi, I'm a swim. Ah, how are you? Hello. I haven't seen you through all day. What do you have to drink? Oh, give me a cup of coffee. Gee, Casey, you must be feeling low. What are you troubled for? We can put them in three little words, Decovix. A broken key. Say, why don't the cops quit stalling on them? They never know how to find Mrs. Walter until they look in a place you told them to, Casey. Today, they did look for in a place I told them to. Uh-huh. You mean Yes. I was wrong. Mrs. Walter's body was not in the plaster model of the reunion. In order to find that out, Logan's men had to bore holes in the model and they broke it all up. Now, Walter's going to find things that would worth plus additional damages for, I don't know how. Oh, his lawyers are throwing up a swell bill of goods. Sure, the work of it is. It's pretty sure to win it soon. 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, of course, that trusted me because by sheer dumb luck, I know that. Look, don't ever tell a big dope, I said this, but Logan's a pretty swell egg. Because Mrs. Walter's body wasn't hidden that statue, does it mean her husband's now in the clear? Sure does. Yeah? The only place he could have hidden her body was inside the freshly poured plaster of that reunion model. Wait a minute, Miss Williams, couldn't he have hidden her body in a closet and sneaked it out later? No, and Mrs. Royce and her cleaning women 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 even got in the body inside the sleeping garden? Walter would have had to cut a big hole this day. Didn't he meet Casey? And he said he didn't knew either after a minute. Yeah, that's funny. That's what started my hunch about Mrs. Royce of being buried in plaster. And when a husband said he'd cast that reunion piece on the night sheet, 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 garden. Then he delivered the reunion model. And now that we've found she isn't there. Oh, 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. Casey, if you're right. Yes, please, right, Appleburg. Mr. Kurt Walter is going to get away with murder. Yeah. Say, Casey, why don't you sneak into that studio on a dark night and bust open Appleburg. Walter wouldn't bother to sue me. He just had me put away until about 1966. Uh, I got no more to get you. I haven't even got a source. Wait a minute. I have. Yeah? What? And I'm going out to see Mrs. Royce Walter's housekeeper and ask her one confidential question. No, Mr. Casey, since the night he made that cast the casting of his reunion group, Mr. Walter has never gone into his studio after that. I see. I'm sorry, it's 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. And he was born in Europe, in a little mountain village where people still believe in witchcraft, but I've sometimes thought cut 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. 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. There are goods on a rotten killer. Okay, pal, I'll take a chance. Good evening, Mr. Walden. Good evening, Mr. Walden. 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. Walden. Mr. Walden, do you believe in dreams? Dreams? Why, should I concern you, Mr. Walden? You see, I dreamed about Mrs. Walden. By ex-wife? Uh-huh. I dreamed that she talked to me. She talked to you? Yeah. 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. You see, tell them the funny thing she said to you in your dream. Okay, look. Mr. Walden, 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. Walden had. So bright. It seemed to have light in there. 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 gotta move fast. Yeah, come on, ball, for India Studio. In Dubai Studio, she told Casey to have you there at midnight. It's like striking 12 miles. Come on, hurry. Let me go. How dare you? She wants you in the studio, and in the dark. Open your door. Let me out. Light switch to the door. Open your door. Don't leave me alone here, sir. I'm alone, Walter. The goddess is awake in there. No. No, no, no. That golden night. That golden night. Your eyes move this way. No, no, don't come any closer. I'm sorry, I read it. I had to do it. You ruled me. I knew it's late. It's late with your will. You're too golden. It's not my heart. I had to kill you and hide your body in it. Sleeping on it. I had to make you sleep forever. Don't get any closer. Forgive me. I'm late. We weren't enough. Anything wrong with me, Logan? Switch on your flashlight. 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 of? I don't like this thing that goes from the dog. I was scared, Mr. Kurt Volter, a lot more, Mr. Williams. He's faded. He did? I figured all he needed was to see the shadow of a woman with a luminous wig rise from behind that plastic statue and walk slowly toward him. Casey, I'll never do this kind of job again. I'll never do it again. Hey, look at that. You're trembling. Now, what's the matter? I don't know. I don't know. Do you know what happened? Oh. It was midnight. When you pushed Volter through the door and I went into my act, I got suddenly afraid. Afraid of Volter? No. Afraid of her? Well, and he went... Hey! He went back. Volter hasn't paid it. He's dead. Dead. Hey, Miss Williams, you never got very close to him with that blonde wig of yours, did you? No. What is it about him? Look at this dead guy's neck, Casey. A single golden hair is wrapped around it almost like a noose. A crease that rings down the curtain all the minutes through playhouse with a knife. The reunion, a crime photographer's story written by Alonzo Dean Cole is based on a fictional character, a flash gun, Casey, created by George Hormann Cutts. Stats Cuttsworth was heard as Casey and Miss Leslie Woods played Anne. Until next time, creed. Goodnight. Sleep tight. This is the Armed Forces Radio Service.