 Good evening, friends. I'll be in a thank-you. This is your host inviting you through the squeaking door for another episode in the eerie. Well, you feeling chilly? Well, why don't you just lie down right there and warm yourself on our bed of cold? Heh heh heh heh. Oh, dear. We feel a little sad this evening. Our pet vampire Hubert is straight off the premises. Poor Hubert. He's sort of stupid. Partly bats, you know. Our Hubert's so dumb he doesn't know his grave from a hole in the ground. Now, if you should find him crawling around your place, don't let him annoy you. After all, vampires can be an awful pain in the neck. All right, so it isn't funny. What do you want? Blood? Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh. Tonight's inner sanctum mystery, Tempo in Blood, was written by Ed Adamson and stars Mason Adams in the role of Chick with Everett Sloane as Sanders. All right, folks. Where'd you hang around for a while? And when the show's over, I'll have Hubert cut you down. Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh. Now, let's get to that story. The thin pale-faced young man sits before the battered upright piano. For a moment, he just sits there. His eyes staring vacantly. His hands squeezed together in a tight clasp. The hands unfold. And then slowly, unsteadily, the nervous fingers reach for the keyboard. I think I got it now. That's the way it began. Yeah, now I got it. I got it. Playing at the Selma Crest, a smoky 2x4 chin mill over an 8-second. I came to hear Chick dense and pound it out in a black and white. Yeah, I really had to join jumping that night. Really jumping. Except for one guy. He was sitting in a booth right across from the piano. He looked like he was playing hockey from a cemetery. That guy, the one I'm telling you about, he just sat there looking, doing nothing but just looking at things. Look at it first. He was just a square, a longing. Why did he keep looking up in that way? That creepy way. Started to get under my skin like the itch. He hit you so much, I stopped pounding. I stopped right in the middle and I walked over to him. Huh? Huh? What are you talking about? Oh, you didn't talk to him before. That's a matter, mister. Don't you like my music, Megan? Does it make any difference? Yeah, sort of. Did I appear appreciative? Sorry, I should have. You see, I've been following your career very closely for the past few months. Why? To learn all I can about you, study you, sit down, Chick. All right. I didn't like the way he was looking at me. All the time he was talking, he kept looking at me like he was burning a hole through my head. My name is Eric Sanders. So what's that to me? I find your music far more stimulating than I appear to. The mad tempo is extremely compatible with my thinking. Yeah? What kind of thinking? Thoughts on murder. What? You see, chick, murder is my profession. I'm a criminologist of sorts, a student of murder. You know there's a striking similarity between your music and murder. Yeah. The way I kill Beethoven and Bach, underlying the mad scramble of notes, there's a definite plan, a plot that builds and builds to a wild climax. Most people can't see the reason to it, but I can, Chick. And that's the way it should be with the perfect murder, a crime with no apparent reason. There must be no relationship whatsoever between the murderer and the murdery. Murdery? I don't dig. There's a theory that the human race is divided into two classes. The murderers, those bent on killing, and the murderies, those bent on being killed. Fortunately, I find myself among the first class. You're a killer, huh? Yes, but a special and unique kind. You see, I intend to commit the perfect murder. There, right? Who are you gonna knock off? Oh, but that's a secret. No, not to you, Chick. Because you're the one I'm going to murder. I figured the guy was a screwball. I had holes in his head. I brushed him off. I forgot about it. I'm back at the Silver Crest in the next night, hammering it out for the beer and pretzel crowd. I'm going like 60. And then... That's the tempo, Chick. What? That's the tempo for murder. What are you doing here? I just stopped him to remind you. It couldn't happen any time. Any time. That guy was beginning to get me. He was really getting me. And it got worse. Next night, he shows up again. And the next. And the next. Hello, Chick. Now, look, will you stop playing games with me? It's not a game, Chick. You're going to die, just as I said you would. Will you stop it and get out of here? Go on, get out! I selected you because you were a murderer. It's written all over you. The perfect victim for a perfect murder. There's nothing you can do to prevent it. Oh, you'll see what I can do. You can't run away from me. I'll find you wherever you go. I'll go to the cops. I'll tell them a bunch of they'll take care of you. That's what cops are for. They'll take care of you good. The police. Go ahead, Chick. You go to the police. They'll think you're crazy. I could just make out the green lights of the station house ahead in the park. And then I stopped. Sure, I tell the cops. The guy comes up to me and says, I'm going to murder you, buddy. You're number one on my kill parade. And what would the cops think? They'd think I drag on the wrong kind of smoke. That's what they think. So I turn around and I walk back. Get to the corner. Step off the curb and two lights jump at me. I try to get back with them. Are you all right? What is this? Who are you? My name's Rita. Rita Corday. You're in my apartment. You were struck by my car. I'm okay. Where is he? He's here, isn't he? Oh, I don't know what you're talking about. You're lying. You tried to kill me. He had you do it. It didn't work. So you brought me here to finish it off. Well, you're not going to do it. I'm not going to die. You're not going to kill me. You're not going. Please lie back. I'm getting out of here. You're not going to do that to me. Listen to me, please. I want to help you change. There you know my name. You were lying just like I said. You're in with him. You're going to kill me. Of course, I know your name. Chick Denson. I looked through the papers in her pocket. Now you listen to me and try to understand. You weren't hurt badly, but you've had a shock and you're imagining things. I brought you here to help you. No one is going to do you any harm. You're safe. Do you understand that? Safe? Perfectly. Hey, isn't he? You're not helping? If I haven't the slightest idea of what you mean, I told you I'm going to help you. I'm going to take care of you, Chick. You're going to stay here until everything is all right. Rita took good care of me. In a couple of days, I was feeling all right. Then I started to figure he'd never find me here. As long as I was here, I was okay. Rita had a piano. I had nothing to do with it. They would just sit and play. I was okay, but I wasn't telling Rita. Not while Eric Sanders was still out to get me. Hello, Rita. You're late. Ten minutes. I told you, baby, I hate to wait for you. Even just ten minutes. I stopped in the store around the corner. I bought you something. Go ahead, open the package. Okay. Rita. Chick, what's the matter? Look, where did you get it? I told you in the store around the corner. Look at it. The fine art of murder by Eric Sanders. Chick, I didn't buy that. Look, it was another one. I must have gotten the wrong package. They made a mistake. It wasn't a mistake. I got to get out of here. What's the matter with you, Chick? What's wrong? Get away from me. I've got to get away. I walked and I walked. I didn't know where to go. Then I saw I was down by the waterfront. I stopped and I stood there, looking at the river, trying to figure something out. I pulled out a cigarette. Then I fought for my matches. Light, Chick, Sanders. I told you, Chick, it was no use running away. I told you I'd find you. I was waiting here for you. I followed you. From her house, you sent that book. I told you I had a plan. Now, look, you're going to leave me alone. Oh, Chick, up until you're dead. Why does it have to be me? I told you why. You were born to be murdered, and I was born to do the murdering. And there's nothing you can do to prevent it. I'm going to make you stop. So help me. I'm going to have to beat the life out of you. You're going to stop. You hear me. You're going to leave me alone. You're going to stop. You can't kill me. And you can't make me stop killing you. No matter how hard you try, it wasn't meant to be that way. No, you'll see. You'll see. I pounded into him. I beat him into my hand. And I stopped. He sank to the ground. I was going to kick him in the face, right in that smirking face. But I couldn't. I don't know why. I wanted to, but I couldn't. Then he looked up at me. You can't do it. Can you, Jake? It's just as I told you. You're the murderer. And I'm the murderer. You're the one who's going to die. I'd like to feel sorry for our happy honest friend, Jake, but I just can't. Surely his music teacher must have warned him that the boogie-woogie would get him if he didn't wash out. And our chick started out by being in the groove. Now it looks like he's headed for a rut about six feet deep. Yes, sir, that Sanders fellow really digs him. Well, now sit back. And let's hear the low notes in the rest of Chick Tenson's story. It's number over and over again. But I don't know why. I thought maybe it'd help me forget. But it doesn't. Nothing helps me to forget. I had to make up my mind to do it. I had to kill Eric Sanders. What's the deal to visit me? I didn't expect... Get inside, Sandy. Oh, a gun. Get in there. Certainly. What's this about? I'm going to kill you. You made it this way. You made it either you or me. So now it's going to be you. All right, Chick. Here I am. Back against the wall. Go ahead, shoot if you can. But you can't, can you? You can't pull that trigger. You hate me. Yet you can't kill me. And I... I have absolutely no feelings about you. And yet I'm going to murder you eventually. I'm going to murder you in a perfect, undetectable fashion. What do you waiting for, Chick? Go ahead, shoot. Go ahead. He stood there laughing at me. I had to do it. I just had to. I squeezed the trap. He stopped laughing. I squeezed again. Then I got out of there fast. I went back to Rita's place. She was on. I sat down at the piano. I banged on the ivory. I wanted to forget everything and just keep playing. I killed a guy. All right, so I killed him. But I had to do it. You cannot see that, can't you? I kept punching away at the keys. Then all of a sudden, I feel something in the room like a cold wind coming in when you open the door. Hello, Chick. It was him standing in the doorway. He was standing there as big as life. You thought you could kill me, but you couldn't, could you? You're dead. I shot you. You're dead. No, you couldn't kill me, Chick. You couldn't really kill anybody. I told you it wasn't in your nature. But I shot you. I fired the gun. You're dead. Yes, you fired the gun. But, think. Maybe it was too dark in that room. The lights were low. You never fired a gun before, did you, Chick? Maybe your hand was unsteady. There are many maybes in murder. You've got to have a plan when you kill a sure definite plan like I have for you, Chick. A plan for the perfect murder. Don't come near me. Stay away. Don't come near me. No, Chick, it's not now. Not at this moment. But the time is getting closer. That's what I came to tell you. The time for you is getting closer. Maybe I could have helped you before, Chick, if you'd only told me about it. I don't know why I didn't tell you, Rita. Maybe, maybe I didn't trust you. You do now, don't you? Oh, sure. Sure, baby. All right, then listen to me. We'll drive back to town and you'll go to the police. Oh, no. You can't keep running away. I can't go to the police. Don't you see it's too late for that. I tried to kill Sandy. Now grab me for that right off. It's got to be this way. We'll hide up in the woods. I know a little place, a hotel. He won't find me there. Yeah, Rita? You have to play that again. What's the matter with it? Nothing. I'm just tired of hearing it. I like it. It suits me. It's got me sick. I'm sick of being cooped up in my room, too. I want to get outside even if it's just for three minutes. You're not leaving this hotel. I told you, you're not showing your face outside until I say so. Yeah? Rita! What? Where do you think you're going? Going outside. I told you, I'm sick of this. I went to the window and I waited. But Rita didn't come out. She was up to something. I went out into the hall. I stopped at the head of the stairs. There she was at the payphone guy in the lobby. I could hear what she was saying. Yes. It's three miles off the main road. The star hotel. Then I'll expect you by ten tonight. But yeah, you'll be here. I'll see to that. She hung up and walked outside. I got down to the phone fast. I was just disconnected. I know. Yeah. Boy, Sandy. Rita called him. Rita. She was in with him. He was coming to get me. The both of them were going to get me. But it wasn't going to be that way. I knew the woods are on the hotel. I knew every inch of them. And now I knew what I was going to do with Rita. What's the difference? You wanted to get outside, now we're out. So dark in these woods. The moon's out. There's a clear in a few yards ahead. See? Plenty of light. It's getting late. We ought to get back, don't you think? You know something, Rita? What? You act like you had an appointment back at the hotel. Appointment? Yeah. You act like you expected somebody. Here's what I wanted to show you. I dropped this rock in that pool of mud. Now watch it. Disappeared. Uh-huh. Quick, Sandy. Is that what you wanted to show me? What happened to that rock, Rita? It's going to happen to you. Chick! I know you're in with Sanders to kill me. What? I heard you on the telephone. No, Chick, I didn't call him, believe me. You're a liar, you're a lousy liar. I checked on you. I was trying to help you, Chick. I called him. That helped me to a fast funeral. Well, now it's your funeral. Mom! He said I can't kill you. Well, you see, Rita. You see, I can kill you. Please don't listen to me. You're going under like that rock. Just like that. Please, for my dear son. Just like that rock. I was only trying to... I stepped back and I watched the sand swallow her up. Chick! And I saw him standing there in a moonlight. Ew! The same as he looked before. I could see it in his eyes. He didn't sound the same. His voice gave him away. He was afraid. Afraid of me. You killed her. You said I couldn't kill, but now you know I can. I planned her murder, Sanders. I planned it perfectly. I killed her and now I can kill you. Don't come near me! Don't come near me! I chased him through the bushes. I followed him in the moonlight. And then I disappeared into the shadows. I saw him, but I knew he was in there hiding in the dark. I got him through a window and upstairs and opened the door. The moonlight was coming in. It was shining on the bed. Right on the bed where he was sitting. Ew! I told you, Sanders, you couldn't get away from me. No! Don't come near me, please! You're going to die and no one will ever find out who did it. A perfect murder! No! No, don't! Funny happened. He wasn't there. I felt dizzy. I rubbed my eyes. I looked again. Then something came from behind me. An arm swung around my neck. All right, you. Don't move. I tried to get out of the grip. The arm tightened. I said, don't try! Hard and heavy pounded on my head and slammed up against my brain. And then I faded. When I came out of it, I heard a voice that heard me. I was keeping a watch on the house like you told me, Inspector. I saw this character sneak in through a side window. He was choking the devil out of that pillar there on the bed. And like I told you on the phone, he was talking to himself a mile a minute. That crazy kind of talk. Well, Robinson, he's our man, all right? Sure, Inspector, but what bothers me is if he did knock Eric Sanders off three days ago, why not do something to come back here again? I don't know how you got me, but it's a good thing for us he did. We were up a blind alley in this case. From the way things looked, Sanders' death was a perfect murder. Before the trial started, they sent a doctor in to see me. One of those mind specialists. He spent hours with me. He told me why I bothered to go back again to Sanders' house. The first time you went to Sanders' house, Chick, you actually murdered him with your gun. But in your mind, you couldn't kill him. In your mind, he was still alive. But Doc, I saw him. He talked to me. I heard his voice. Those were hallucinations, Chick. Yeah? What? What about the telephone call Rita made? I talked to him right after she did. Rita Corday was calling in a doctor to look at you. She thought you were mentally sick. When you heard the doctor's voice on the phone, you believed it was Sanders because you wanted to believe that. Rita, she was trying to help me, like she said. Yes, and after you killed her, you felt you could kill Sanders. That's why you went back to his house. To fulfill the murder in your mind. That's all there is to it, Chick. There is to it. That's what the doc said. But there's more. The court said I was non-encompassed something. It means that you're crazy. That put me away in this place. Here, I got nothing to do but think. I asked for a piano. They brought this one in this morning. The doc said it was hallucinations. But I saw him. I rarely saw him. Man, I heard his voice. The doc said it couldn't have been Sanders. But I tell you, I saw him. I saw him in my own eyes. The doc said Sanders was already dead. All right. And if it wasn't Sanders, I saw him. Who was? Who was? I'm trying not to think. That's why I'm playing now. Maybe if I play long enough, I'll forget about what I'm thinking. I'll keep playing, that's all. I'll just keep playing. This was a presentation of the United States Armed Forces Radio Service, The Voice of Information and Education.