 Box 13. With the star of Pheromont Pictures, Alan Ladd has Dan Holliday. Box 13. Box 13. Box 13. Box 13. Box 13. Holliday, why did you ever leave a soft job as a reporter to become a freelance writer? Or why did you ever advertise for adventure? Oh, I know it makes you feel like a kid with a box of crackerjack. Now you can't stop. You might run across a juicy peanut, or that grand prize is supposed to come in each and every package. But you know by now that storylines like money don't grow on trees. Susie, where have you been? You know where I've been, Mr. Holiday. Down to star times after the mail. Oh, yes, the mail. What's in box 13? Box 13, starring Ellen Ladd as Dan Holiday. And now, box 13, starring Ellen Ladd as Dan Holiday. Box 13. I wish I'd never rented the thing. Wish I'd never even thought of it. Mr. Holiday, you're early this morning. Well, I had to see if my new secretary's on the ball. You know, since you rescued me from that nut factory down to star times, I'd work my fingers off the elbows for you. Oh, oh, now take it easy, Susie. You'll need those elbows to lean on when things get dull around here. Dull? Oh, things don't get dull around you, Mr. Holiday. Hey, what's that you're writing, a love letter? Yeah, it's a love letter to your publisher. He wants to know where are the chapters you promised for the new book? And what are you telling him, Susie? A lie, a big fat one. Thanks. By the way, where are those chapters, Mr. Holiday? If I had them, my secretary'd have lots of extra work. You don't like extra work, do you, Susie? I don't like your worried look. When you don't have chapters, you have that look. Oh, does it show so much? Like a chinchilla coat in a dime store. It's the hallmark of my profession, Susie. Say, what was in box 13 today? I think some goof wants you should fly to Mars with him in his homemade rocket. Oh, brother. Oh, yes. There was a ticket to a radio broadcast. Radio broadcast? Silky Soap presents Time for Drama, starring Jean Blake, 8 p.m. Federal Broadcasting Studios. Now, who would want me to go to a radio show? The advertising agency, maybe? Those guys don't read adventure wanted ads. Too busy dreaming up singing commercials. Someone wants you should go to that broadcast awful bad. Yeah. She wrote, please, in the back of the envelope. She? Yeah, she. And I don't like her taste in lipstick. The one she wrote this with is the color of blood. And now you have returned, my darling. I am alive again. The wind is down, but still the seas run high. Time for drama has presented The Wind is Down, starring Jean Blake. In the cast were Robert Baylor as John, Agnes Sloan as Grandmother, and Marvin Masterson as the Butler. This is FBC, the federal broadcasting government. Sorry, sir. We're closing the studio. Huh? Oh, sure. Sure. I was meeting someone. They must have stood me up. Someone in the cast, sir? Yes, it could be. I think they've all gone, but you might try the stage entrance. Oh, thanks. How do I get there? Around the back of the building, sir. Just opposite the parking lot. You bull-lithery idiot. Watch where you're going. Sorry I didn't see you coming around the corner. You autograph hounds always clutter up the entrance. For that, I'll not give you mine. Step aside there. Oh, don't mind him, son. He's just an old ham. There has been. Oh, that's a heavy hunk of ham. Who is he, Pop? His name is Marvin Masterson. Not the Marvin Masterson. Yep. He's washed up in pictures. Through on the stage, too. There's bits on the air now. Say, didn't I see him play a butler on time for drama tonight? Yep. How the mighty have fallen. Say, Pop, you read that like an actor. Was one once. Oh, nothing like Masterson, of course. And I can appreciate how he must feel. Well, someone else did, too, when he said, fame it is the flower of a day that dies when the next sun rises. You an actor, too, son? No writer. Name wouldn't be Dan Holiday, would it? Yes, fine. Got a message for you? From whom? Don't know. Found this note on my desk. If Mr. Dan Holiday comes around, ask him to go to the Mayfair restaurant. Hey, what is this? I'm getting passed around like a collection plate. And when you catch up to her, give her a pencil. That lipstick smeared up my call sheet. Oh, Monsieur Dan Holiday, it is an honor to have you once more at Mayfair. You have deserted us too long. Working hard, Henri? Always. But tonight, you relax. You have fun, eh, Monsieur Dan Holiday? What do you mean? A charming young lady waiting for you at your table. Oh, I'd hoped you'd come, Mr. Holiday. Why, you're Jean Blake. Yes, I must talk with you. We'll order later, Henri. Now what is this all about? Oh, I suppose I am being rather mysterious. I'm used to mystery. Besides not owning a pencil, what's your problem? Pencil? Yes, that lipstick you write notes with comes off on things. Oh. I'm in danger, Mr. Holiday. You're grave danger. But why come to me? I know about you in box 13. You advertise adventure wanted will go any place, do anything. I need help, so. So? Mr. Holiday, I'm going to be killed. I'll do anything you ask, but you must help me. You must. Oh, now, look, Miss Blake. I'm a writer, not a detective. I don't, Monsieur Holiday. Yes, Henri? There's a call for you. May I plug you in the phone? A call? Oh, sure, excuse me, please. Hello? You must be psychic. Who's this? Insighted. I suppose I am. You see, when I ring off, I know you will tell that beautiful young woman sitting next to you. Oh, yeah, a little. That makes you so sure. Anyone else? That I don't see. Something. You're in this restaurant? Now, Miss Blake. You will help me. But, Miss Blake, I. But you must. You simply must. Look, I'll pay you anything. I don't want your money, Miss Blake. I want you to see the police. You won't help me? No. That's final? That's final. Very well. Goodbye, Mr. Holiday. Well, nice going, Holiday. A young woman in distress pleads for help. And what do you do? Send her out into the night alone. But you had to do it, so that that mad man on the phone wouldn't hurt somebody. Now, you've got to find her and fast. Henri? Henri? Oui, Monsieur, Alainé? That girl who just left, Jean Blake. Did you see where she went? Oui, Monsieur. She walked towards the park. Well, this is the park, but no Jean Blake. Oh, there she is. Miss Blake! Miss Blake, wait! It's all right, Miss Blake. Stand Holiday. Oh, but I thought... No time for thinking. Get in my car quickly. What can I do? Oh, now easy, Miss Blake. Take it easy. Come on, try to be calm. Can you tell me who's been threatening me? There's only one thing we can do. Go to the police. You can relax now, Holiday. You're off that hook. The Blake gal's probably back home and you can bet they put a cop to stand guard at the door. Sure, Holiday, this would have made a great springboard for a yarn, but you're out of it now. So I'll just forget the whole thing. Anyway, what would you have done for the last chapter? Last chapter. Of course, sir, if you should go back to the Mayfair for lunch tomorrow, you just might run across something interesting. Monsieur Dan Holiday? Yes? The author? Oh, I thought this much. Bring your pictures on dust jackets of your very exciting books. I'm a fan of yours. Have a seat, Mr. Masterson. Nice meal. Have we bumped into one another before? Well, I'd call it a near miss, but along with a few million others, I'd recognize you anyway. Personally, I detest dining alone. Since no one was with you, I took the liberty. My pleasure, sir. Thank you. Hungry? Serve my dinner here. Your voice is very distinctive, Mr. Masterson. Seems I've heard it just recently. Of course. It was on the radio. I've been doing a bit of that, you know. Simply for amusement, of course. Oh, yes. I saw you on Jean Blake's show last evening. You played the butthole. Ah, yes. I asked them not to credit me. He's just dabbling with radio. A new medium, you see. I'm sure the name Masterson means a great deal, even to the radio audience. The public, soon for death. They call, Mr. Holiday again. The phone is connected. Oh, thank you. Hello? Holiday. What's wrong? Jean Blake. She's just been murdered. You are listening to Box 13 starring Alan Ladd as Dan Holiday. Back to Box 13 starring Alan Ladd as Dan Holiday. Well, what a sleuth you turned out to be, Holiday. You're sitting on a mutual admiration session with a tired old ham actor. And the gal you're trying to protect gets knocked off. Hold it, Mac. Where do you think you're going? Miss Blake's. Miss Blake ain't seeing nobody. Yeah, that's for sure. She's dead. Dead? Are you crazy, mister? I've been here all the time. Which part of the duplex is hers? Upstairs. But you can't... Come on. This it? Yes. But I... Come on, bust it in. See what I mean? Suicide, huh? What did she take? Suicide. You better look again. She was shot. That's impossible. I'd have heard something. I've been here six hours and I ain't heard no shot. But there were three shots. I heard them just 15 minutes ago. You heard them. You wasn't here 15 minutes ago. Or was you? Were you? I told you I've been here six hours. Didn't you leave for cigarettes or something? I told you I'd been here... Yeah, I know you've been here six hours. But who was around before I got here? No one. That is nobody but them. Nobody but who? The tenants of the other apartment. An old guy and his daughter, name of Masterson. Masterson? Look, Mac, you know too much about this. I'm holding you till I get the inspector down here. Sure. When you're falling in, tell headquarters to send along a magician's manual. Huh? You didn't hear any shots. This thing must have been done with mirrors. Did you talk to Miss Blake after you left her last night? No, not till she phoned me this noon, Inspector. At the restaurant. She phoned you at the restaurant this noon? Yeah, that's right. I was having lunch with a guy from downstairs. Marvin Masterson. Well, I got news for you, Holiday. If you talked to anybody, it wasn't Miss Blake. What do you mean? She couldn't have telephoned you. She's been dead over 12 hours. How about that? Holiday. Holiday, where's that good ear you're supposed to have? Sure, you would swear it was Miss Blake's voice. But she was dead 12 hours before. Look, Holiday, you're trying to find the last chapter. But even you couldn't write this one. But it was her voice. Come on now. Think, Holiday. What did she say over the phone? Come now. There was something else that came over that wire. Something a good ear would have picked up. Think, Holiday. Think. What else did you hear over that phone? Sounding the Westminster Abbey chimes. Yes? Miss Masterson. I'm Dan Holiday. Oh, yes. Good evening. Won't you come in? I'm sorry to intrude. Oh, not at all. Father told me he lunched with you this noon. Oh, yes. Is your father at home? No. Oh. Is there something I can do? Oh, yes. Answer a few questions, if you will. Well, if it's about that poor girl upstairs, the police have already questioned Father and me extensively. Poor Father. He was so upset he went out to our beach cottage for a few days. I'd like very much to know if... Can't you get your information from headquarters? No. Why? You see, I know more than the police do. Isn't withholding evidence of crime, Mr. Holiday? Yes. So is aiding and abetting a murder. I'm afraid that's not very clear. Some details are not clear to me. That's why I'm here. Are you insinuating that... No. I'm accusing. Accusing whom of what? A father and his daughter. Of murder and murder. A father and his daughter. Of murder and abetting a murder, respectively. That's ridiculous. I don't think so. I get it. This is just a gag cooked up between you and my father. Well, it really isn't very funny. It's no gag. Your father murdered Jean Blake. And I believe you helped him, Miss Mastison. And now I'm sure of it. Is my silence that expressive? No, but your clock strikes the Westminster chimes. Chimes? I don't see what they've got to do with it. I see several things. You're a fancy record player for one. It does have an attachment for making recordings, doesn't it? Mr. Holiday, you have no right to ask questions. The police got all the information they wanted. But not the evidence to convict Marvin Mastison. I know he's a murderer. You all have to prove that. I heard Jean Blake calling for help. Then I heard that shots had killed her. Well, if my father was dining with you at the time, how could he be the killer? I heard the murder. But not at the time it was committed. It was you, Miss Mastison, who telephoned me at the restaurant. Are you trying to say I'm clever enough to go through that shooting routine and then fake Jean Blake's voice over the phone? It was Miss Blake's voice all right. However, I heard it 12 hours after your father killed her in this apartment. Later, he carried her body upstairs. That's fantastic. Is it? Mind if I go through this collection of records? I should find the one Jean Blake was forced to cut on his machine before she was shot to death. No, don't. Please, I... Oh, you did play that record I heard on the phone. Yes. But I thought it was a joke father was playing on someone. He phoned me a few minutes before and told me what to do. What did you think when you discovered Miss Blake was dead? I was frantic. You see, father warned me to forget all about the record. He refused to answer any of my questions. Mr. Holliday, my father can't be responsible for this tragedy. He's just a broken old man. He was the idol of millions for so long and now they don't want him anymore. He's breaking his heart. Please. Please, I'm begging you to forget all about this, Mr. Holliday. I thought you might be innocently involved. But I'm afraid you can't protect your father from emergency change. What will they do with him? I'm sorry, Miss Masterson, but I'll have to take that record. Don't touch that cabinet Holliday. Oh, you didn't like the beach, Masterson. I didn't go. You're too clever to be out of my sight. Being at this end of your gun might indicate otherwise. But I don't like guns pointing at me. Hey, get out of the way! He was going to shoot you. Oh, you're so right. Fortunately, you got in the way. Are you convinced now that he killed Miss Blake? Yes, I'm afraid I am. How did you know it was done here, not up in Jean's apartment? Jean didn't have a clock, which strikes the Westminster Abbey Chimes. This is Box 13, starring Alan Ladd as Dan Holliday. What is station high? It is a proud benefit. It boasts and begs. It begs arms of homage from the throng. And off the throng denies its charity. Holliday. What's that, Inspector? I said that Masterson was a fool. Imagine his insane jealousy of a young performer leading him into a murder plot. Oh, I know, but after all, look at it from Masterson's viewpoint. He'd been a great star, now he was reduced to playing a bit. Support of a girl he considered an upstart. Well, it's too bad. Yes, he's thinking with a rye on him. He figured if he got rid of her, they might rebuild the show around him. The old boy was nutty as a pack of peanut brittle. Well, Mr. Holliday, should I go over to Star Time and see what's in box 13? Oh, not this morning, Susie. Today we work. Chapters for our publisher? Chapters for our dear publisher. Good. Oh, say, before we start, there's a letter here for you. A letter? What's it say? It's from a man who owns the apartment building where you live. Yes. It says, your rent is past due. Get it up or get out. Oh, fine. Next week, same time, Alan Ladd stars as Dan Holliday in box 13. Alan Ladd appears through the courtesy of Paramount Pictures and may currently be seen in Wild Harvest. Box 13 is directed by Ted Hediger with an original story by Frank Hartossi. The part of Susie is played by Sylvia Picker. Original music was composed and conducted by Rudy Schrager. This is a Mayfair production.