 Personal notice, dangers 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. Greetings, Mr. Lover. Time for another Let George Do It adventure. Our target for terror is entitled How Guilty Can You Get? Or Arsenic in Old Lies. It all has to do with the sudden demise of a rich old cauldron, which is of course nothing new. However, the planning that went into operation bump-off is quite novel, as you will discover for yourself in practically nothing flat. My dear Mr. Valentine, I am one of the richest men in Sandhill Center. As a ring-lord and a character might say, I've made my pile, ha ha. There's nothing that makes a man as nervous and unhappy as a million dollars, ha ha. Yes, you'll laugh. You won't believe my fears. You won't believe what kind of woman my wife is. You won't even believe she might be carrying on and plotting with another man. Well, you'd better believe that and come to see me immediately. Or Sandhill Center may be without the services of its only millionaire. After all I've given to this town, the one thing I don't want to give them is the pleasure of enjoying my funeral. Yours for a long life, ha ha. Signed Fred Vincent Liggett. Yes. Yes, my husband's at home. Why? Well, I'm George Valentine. This is Miss Claire Brooks, my assistant. Yes, of course you're Mr. Valentine. Well, may we come in? I don't know. I'm not sure. You see, I'm Mrs. Liggett. Yes, so I get it. The wife of the millionaire. The wife of the man who made his pile in Sandhill Center. What's the matter? Did I say something wrong? No, of course not. But if you'd please tell your husband that we're here. Yours for a long life, ha ha. Oh yes, come in. Come right in. Join the party. You seem to know all about it. All about my husband's mail, you mean, don't you? I just read it. Look, here it is. The carbon copy from his pocket. Oh, well look, Mrs. Liggett. Such a funny letter, wasn't it? Ha ha. Such a funny man, my husband. So well-liked, so admired, so trusting. So able to see what other people are up to. I'm willing to believe the best about people. Wait a minute, please, Mrs. Liggett. I know how it must make you feel to read what he's written about you. Oh, but to go prying, to read his mail. But I am reading all of the things in his pockets. You walk in here the moment I've just been reading them. Mrs. Liggett, please. Because the sheriff wanted me to read everything. He told me to look too. To look at all the nice things my husband ever wrote about everybody. Stop what I said, please. Sheriff? Huh? Yes, yes, of course. I've already done it, don't you see? Well, what else could you see? What else could you think? Go on in there. Go see my husband. He's dead. You are listening to Let George Do It. Our adventure will continue in just a moment. Now back to Let George Do It and George Valentine. Mrs. Liggett's been running around here like a chicken with her head cut off. The Brooks will try to calm me down a little, Sheriff. I just want to know what happened. Pour around to the neighbors to try to get help. I only been here myself a few minutes. Medical examiners on his way from the city. She found him just lying here, huh? Poisoned. I don't know much, but I know that much. Look at his face. Sure, poisoned. That doesn't mean anybody did it necessarily. Look at the glass. That's what he took it in. White powder of some kind. Must have tried to get to the phone. Hey, what's that bottle you're waving around? Prescription. Center drugstore. Found it in the bathroom. Showed it to her and she fell apart. What do you mean? What do you think I mean? Mrs. Liggett admitted she measured this stuff and gave it to him in a glass of milk. Well, if it's a doctor's prescription... Her name's also on the drugstore receipt for it. She bought it. But if she... He drank a glass of milk. That doesn't mean he knew what was in it, does it? So you've got a suspicious nature, too, huh? Well, the first thing I seen in his pocket was that letter to you. What would you think? Give me that bottle. Prescription number 537... Well, hello, Mr. Manx. None of that mister stuff with me. Deputy brought me right out, Bill. He says you're climbing out on a limb and making... This is Mr. Valentine. Ed Manx owns the center drugstore. Hello. Now, listen here, Bill. Your deputy's going over the books to check that prescription. In 17 years my place has never been accused of anything. He's accusing you of anything, Andy. Be quiet, will you? The boy makes that. It's his initials. He's brand new this week, but he knows his stuff. He's a trained pharmacist. I've watched him. He don't make mistakes. Nobody said anybody needed it. So he'll go popping off accusing people, saying it's poison for my drugstore that causes the whole thing. I said nobody's accusing me. As far as I can see, Sheriff, you don't even know this is a murder yet. Ha! That's what I said the minute I heard the rumors. Just because nobody liked Ligit, just because he had too much money and too many bad jokes. Was Ligit sick that he needed medicine regularly? No. Yes. Ha! There, you see? Right off the bat, you go off half-cocked about his condition. What was the matter with him? Pretty bad case of anemia. Ask his wife. She's picked up medicine for him every week for the past several weeks. Well, her again. His wife did, did she? Well, what have you got against her? Holy smoke, Bill. Who was Ligit's doctor? Who wrote that prescription? Nichols. Everett Nichols. Only one in town. Yes, and my files got that prescription in Nichols own handwriting. The same number stamped right on it. Five, three, seven, eight, five. Let me see the bottle. Look all you want. Practically full. Doses a teaspoon and said, well, what are you trying to say? She gave him an overdose? She couldn't. There's no more than a spoonful taken out of there. All right, all right, Ed. But I don't get it. Poison? Sure, it's poison. Dr. Nichols' prescription will show that. Same as the boy who mixed it. Your deputy's getting him now. Charming whatever the sheriff thinks. So what is it, Buster? What don't we know? Ed, you've seen how the Ligits were getting along? You mean headed for a divorce? I mean her running around all the time. Well, I can't say as I blame her. Ligit was no charmer. Dr. Nichols is. Oh? Ambitious man, Dr. Nichols. And seeing as how Ligit mentioned something about a man in that letter to you, Mr. Valentine. Well, maybe she's gone out to the club dancing sometimes with Nichols, but that don't mean that she... Ed, I don't like my job, either, but I find a man obviously poison. Hadn't eaten nothing since breakfast a long time back. Takes milk with a high-powered prescription in it, given to him by his wife. Picked up at the store by his wife. Well, she did do most of the driving in the family. Oh, I know. Prescribed by a doctor who had an eye on their money. A doctor I should have brought here right now to tell us the things we don't know. Hey, clear that up. Why didn't you get it? Because I can't, Mr. Valentine. He's not at his office. He's got a place in the country. I've phoned. I got the neighbor to check. He's not there, either. Why bother with details? The point is the doctor's disappeared, and at a time like this, disappearing don't look good. How should I know where Dr. Nichols is? I don't know anything about him. The sheriff says you've gone out a few times with him. Of course that's what the sheriff says. I don't blame him. The rich man's wife who goes out with other men. It's not nice. No matter how separated you are. No matter how much of a gentleman the doctor might be. All right, Mrs. Liggett, all right. I get that your husband wasn't much of a guy to live with. I haven't seen Dr. Nichols for days and days. All right, skip it. Tell Mr. Valentine what you told me about Mr. Liggett. He was always suspicious of her, George. Suspicious of everybody. Why should I tell him that? He wouldn't believe me. Her husband told other people that he didn't trust her. That he was afraid someday she might try to get rid of him. Of course. Naturally. I'm a murderous. Ask the sheriff. Look, Mrs. Liggett, I know it's tough. Before we even know the facts, everybody jumps to a conclusion. Why? Well, because I'm here. Because your husband wrote to me. Because Fred picked the time he did to write you one of his ridiculous letters. Yes. In a way, it is your fault that I'm in trouble. Yeah. You mean now it's up to me to get you out of trouble, huh? To prove it wasn't murder. Yes. All right, don't worry. I was hired on this case. I'll go on with it. Mr. I only answer Dr. Nichols' telephone. I don't read his mind. It's Ms. Boggs who's his nurse. But the sheriff says his nurse was off duty. She always is on Saturday mornings. Well, so was I after 10 o'clock. The telephone exchange takes over after then. 10 o'clock. That's when Dr. Nichols left? Exactly. We walked out together and he didn't tell me he was going any place special. And that's the last you saw of him, Miss Broom. The last anybody saw of him. Yeah, let's see the list of phone calls then. That's the last one. Hemlock number? Yesterday afternoon? That's right. You said he had patience. He was working this morning. Well, that's just a few regulars, that's all. There was Psy Benson for his bandage and Widow Morris, that's a heart. Pills for the Jefferson baby and well, of course, Fred Liggett. Fred Liggett this morning? Well, when do you think he got that prescription? Only if you think that there's anything wrong with any prescription that Dr. Nichols... I'm not the sheriff, Miss Broom. Well, it's a pity you're not. And I'll tell you another thing. The doctor, maybe he took Mrs. Liggett out once or twice but he'd never get mixed up with a woman like that. Oh, you don't think so much of her either, huh? I didn't say that. Hemlock 8339 in the phone book. Just looking up that last number yesterday afternoon, George, it's the Liggett number. Well, I'll write what of it. It was her phone, the doctor. So what? That don't mean anything. Maybe to talk about the weather, what of it? Except he was so careful not to mention it to us, George. Yeah. And now what do you think you're doing? Still looking for the doctor. Well, suppertime. If I know him, he'll be back home by suppertime. That crazy sheriff. Saying he's disappeared just because he can't find him right away. Hello. Oh, hello. Let me talk to Mrs.... Yeah, Valentine. Oh, it's you, Sheriff. She came back to meet the medical examiner. Good. I'll be right back. Now you won't. This thing's mixed up enough as it is. I'm leaving for the country. What? You know, I told you the Doc's country place was empty. Well, I got a man out there says his desk and everything are all cleaned up. Just like a man does when he leaves town, runs away. All right, Sheriff. Tell me later. I know I'm wrong, because he didn't disappear. Huh? Doc Nichols, he's lying across that desk. Dead. You're listening to Let George Do It. Our adventure will continue in just a moment. Now back to George Valentine. How guilty can you get? Well, the sheriff in Sandhill Center seems to feel that Mrs. Liggett must be very guilty indeed. And why? Because just before his death, her husband wrote you a letter accusing her of all sorts of things. Another man in her life, for instance. The sheriff thinks that might be Dr. Nichols, the same doctor who prescribed poison for Fred Liggett. The only trouble is, now Dr. Nichols is dead, too. And if your name is George Valentine, you know it's not going to be quite as easy as you once thought to prove this was not a murder case. That you, Valentine? Yeah, right here, Sheriff. Thanks for waiting. You ready to go? It's a good 15 miles out there to the country place. Wait a minute. Who's this? Oh, Dr. Milliken, city police. Oh, hello, Doctor. What was it? Miss Brooks, Mr. Valentine. Honey, you do. You mean the poison? Strictly, I think. The hospital's running some tests for me. Strictly? I'm the prescription, and Ed Manx found me that. And the boy who made it up confirmed it. It's Nichols' handwriting, all right. So a doctor just prescribes poison right in the open, and a wife gives it to her husband in a glass of milk. Couldn't be called medicine for him but the farthest stretch of the imagination. And it couldn't be called sensible, either, until Nichols turned up dead. What do you mean? Well, suppose Nichols was being used and didn't know it. Or pressured into writing the thing. That's the easiest explanation. I wouldn't guess. And I'm all through guessing, too. So come on. This time we're not even going to open our mouths until we know what the facts are. Deputy out at Nichols hasn't touched the thing. Waiting for us right now. I, uh, I changed my mind. Leave me out. Yeah, you guys go out there. I'll follow you. All right, all right. Come on, Doc. Step on it. Okay. George, why don't you want to go along? Oh, I don't know why. Except that I'd rather talk to a woman than a corpse any day. I assure you I've never been mixed up in any way with Dr. Nichols. I don't know anything about it. Any more than I really know anything about my husband's death. You, uh, telephoned the doctor yesterday afternoon. He didn't tell us about that earlier. Didn't I? No. Well, I had the car and I had to do some shopping. Fred was late and couldn't go to the doctors. You mean he was supposed to have gone yesterday instead of this morning? Yes, I phoned Dr. Nichols to change the appointment. That's all. You... Oh, brother, what's the matter with me? Stricton? What? Sure, of course. Look, look, what do you know about your husband's illness? About any treatment he's taken or anything? Well, I really haven't paid too much attention. I'm afraid. I know it's anemia, but... Well, stupid. Never mind. What on earth are you talking about? Morris. Morris. That's it. The widow Morris. A lady with a heart. What do you expect to find? I don't know, Angel. See if she's in first. It's the only Morris in the phone book. But if you'd waited until I called Ms. Bruin... I didn't want to wait for anything, Angel. I don't know much about medicine, but I know enough to... Uh-oh. Come on. The lights aren't on. Mrs. Morris. Mrs. Morris. Well, here, the switch is on. Ah! Paul Hayton. Sure. The same expression on her face. Just like Fred Liggett. Been dead for several hours, I guess. Look, here we are. A bottle of white powder. What, George? Well, see, it's a prescription bought today. Stricton? The same thing? Stricton wouldn't have hurt Mrs. Morris here, any would it? Woman being treated for heart trouble? It's a common method of treatment, in fact. George! Yeah, yeah. Now you're beginning to get it. Suppose Fred Liggett, who didn't have heart trouble, got the wrong medicine. And a widow Morris here... You mean the prescriptions were mixed. And he was being treated with something that she got and that killed her. Anemia he had, wasn't it? Oh, but George, no, a doctor couldn't make a mistake like that. It's impossible. That's what I always thought until right now. And why would he himself have been killed? The doctor, I mean. He was out there with a sheriff before he buries all the evidence. Because maybe the doctor's death was just as simple, Angel. Maybe we can wind this one up fast. Yes, Mr. Valentine, quite possible. Anemia is sometimes treated with arsenic, and it can be taken orally. Look, she was an old woman, Dr. Milliken. Had a bad heart anyway. It wouldn't have taken much, too. Exactly. I'll get down there as fast as I can. Okay, thanks. Well, Sheriff... Well, Valentine, look for yourself. I told you before I'm all through playing detective. When did Nichols die? I don't know for sure, but a little time after the other two, apparently. Lying across the desk here, arm outstretched. Well, you're doing fine. You're one jump ahead of me. On the gun and the wastebasket, one shot. He had plenty of time to learn about Liggett and that Morris woman, in case he didn't already know. Wastebasket right beside the desk. Funny guy, Nichols. Ambitious, very proud of himself. His standing in the community, his reputation, his career. Right arm outstretched, huh? Out over the edge, like this. Sure, sure, right-handed. You know, I said earlier, his stuff looked all arranged. Done in a hurry, but sort of like a man who's leaving town suddenly. Or a man who fired a single shot. Gun drops from his hand, hand of the wastebasket, and then he slumps forward on the desk. Yeah, yeah, you don't have to go through the motions. I've already done it. But you said a long time ago it might not be murder. I was guessing. Now you're not. Because if Liggett and Morris were mistakes, the most horrible mistakes I ever heard of. And I guess this proves it, doesn't it? When the doctor whose fault it was commits suicide. That's it. Just look at the evidence. That's what happened. Suicide. So that's how it ends. Poor man. Poor, poor man. Think how he must have felt when he found out, when he realized what he did. Yeah, yeah, the mistake was his, all right. It wasn't the drugstore's fault. You're a pharmacist on duty. He didn't know the people. He wouldn't have caught it. Just think how Dr. Niko... You were pretty upset by this, too, Mrs. Liggett. You were blamed for a while. Well, everyone knew how Fred and I were. I can't blame anyone for jumping to conclusions. Oh, no. And your husband's letter to me and my coming here threw you into a blue panic, too, didn't it? Well, I wouldn't exactly say panic. I think I must have been hysterical over... Why say panic? Why not? It was the first thing that started to upset your plan. My what? Well, isn't that what you'd call it? When you plot your husband's death? When you almost get away with it? Mr. Valentine, I'm sure I... Just to be accurate, I'll say you and the boyfriend. He obviously did most of it. Did most of what, George, for heaven's sake? There'd been gossip about her and the doctor. Her and several other guys, as a matter of fact. But if there was a real boyfriend, and they were plotting to get rid of Liggett, you don't think they'd let the gossips in on it, do you? Just whom are you referring to? The only man it could be. To pull off the most involved but simple crime I ever heard of. Ed Manx, the drugist. Who else? Oh, sure. Very funny. Go ahead and laugh. But there's a little too much coincidence for my blood. Ed Manx had a new pharmacist filling prescriptions today. Now why? I'm sure I haven't the slightest idea. Manx is a pharmacist himself. For 17 years he said, well, why put the new boy on the same day two people get poisoned prescriptions filled? How on earth do you think Ed could know that? The widow Morris got a prescription filled every week. Who'd know that? Who'd know there was enough strickenin' in it to kill your husband? Who'd know the effect of his medicine on her? George, wait a minute. They'd have nothing against the widow Morris. No reason to want her, Dad. They wouldn't care whether it killed her or not, Angel. Just her tough luck that it did. The important thing was setting up the doctor's mistake. So Manx could get him out to that country place and set up that poor tragic suicide. No, that's not true. All right, let's get back to the drugstore. The coincidence of both prescriptions being made out and delivered on the same day. You set that up, Mrs. Liggett. There's a record of all the doctor's phone calls, remember? And you were foolish enough to explain the last call in his book yesterday. To explain that you'd delayed your husband by shopping in town. So could he please come in this morning, just after the widow Morris? They are all set up. Stop it. I won't listen to you. He's on his way out here now, the pharmacist. Because as I got it, Manx gave him those prescriptions to make up and deliver. No, he didn't. I'm sure he didn't. What did you say? How could you know anything about that? I don't. Of course I don't. How could I? You're trying to mix me up. That's all. And why should that bother you? Ingredients have to be there before they can be mixed. Oh, stop it. Stop it. Sure, go ahead. Get hysterical. Maybe you'll pull another horrible mistake like you did this afternoon. What? Running around like a chicken with a head cut off, as the sheriff put it. Screaming to the neighbors for help and so on. And the last call to the doctor was yesterday afternoon. Oh, George, that's right. That's what was really important about that list of his phone calls. Mrs. Liggett's husband was dying and she didn't call the doctor. Yes. Yes, I did. But he wasn't there. The exchange takes all of his calls for him when he's out. It wasn't on the list. I mean, I called his country place direct. Oh, oh, yeah, I see. And how did you know he'd be there? Well, I didn't, but... Your husband was dying and you didn't call the doctor. Stop saying that. One of the neighbors called for me, I thought. Sure, sure. Every one of them must have offered to do it. But they don't show on his list. So you must have stopped them from calling by saying you'd already tried to reach him, but you didn't. No. I mean, yes. Ed Manx will tell you that. Come on, come on now. Make up your mind, sister. You didn't want the doctor to reach by anyone because Ed was taking him out to be killed. Isn't that right? That isn't true. He was at the country place by then. He was... Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah. Come on, trip yourself up a few more times. Stop it, stop it. The conclusion of our Let George Do It adventure in just a moment. George, you have killed three people in cold blood. Well, they thought they had to do it, Angel. Small town, her husband's money, and the suspicions he'd advertised. They knew it would take a very slick plan to get rid of Ligget and keep it covered up. But they had their slick plan, all right? Yeah, so slick they fell down on it. But it almost worked, didn't it? I mean, the sheriff believed it, so did I. Well, so did I, till I caught that phone call business. Besides, Angel, it did seem pretty impossible that any doctor could ever mix his prescriptions like that. George, I still don't understand. They were the doctor's prescriptions, and they were made out to the wrong people. Oh, Manx switched them, that's all. Take about one word of forgery on each one to keep the new pharmacists from getting them uncrossed. And who could forge a word or two better than the guy who for 17 years had to decipher that gibberish doctor's right on prescriptions. Ooh, how guilty can you get? But as much as they were. Yeah, and now, Fred, like it's a million dollars, goes right back to Sandhill, I suppose. Good place for it, I wouldn't want to. Oh, George, now that's no way to speak of a million dollars. It's a matter, are you afraid your wife might be tempted to kill you for it? Or do you mean you'd be afraid you might be able to afford the wife? Look, if you want to change the subject, you do it like this. But I never really changed the subject. No, no, you don't. It's always the same. That's what I love about you. You're persistent. Good night, Angel. You have just heard how guilty can you get? Another Let George do it adventure. Robert Bailey was starred as George Valentine with Virginia Gregor's Bruxy. David Victor and Jackson Gillis wrote the story with music by Eddie Dunstetter. Now this is yours truly inviting you to another visit with Valentine when you will again hear what happens when you Let George do it.