Stand by for crime.
Hi, I'm Chuck Morgan, newscaster at station KOP here in Los Angeles.
You know, there's nothing that strikes terror to the heart of a city more than the knowledge that there's a maniacal killer at large.
Especially one who kills just for the sake of killing, with no apparent motive or reason.
Now, we had one here in LA a while ago.
The press dubbed him the sniper, used a rifle to pick off his victims from dark alleys or upstairs windows or even automobiles.
Five murders were credited to him without the police getting a ninkling as to his identity.
And it was at this point that the guy began warning his victims.
He'd make a phone call and say, you're next, and hang up.
Sure, the police gave the warned victim protection, but you can't assign a couple of cops to standing guard over a man forever.
This the sniper knew.
He'd merely wait until the cops were called off the job, even if it took six months, and then cracked down.
Well, this was a deal that I was thinking about last Tuesday.
I was sitting here in my office mulling over the situation when my blonde secretary, Carol Curtis, came in with some stuff.
Hi, Chuck.
Hi.
Here's the stuff on the mayor's talk last night.
I'll leave it in the basket.
Okay.
Hey, what's the matter with you?
Oh, this sniper gag is getting me down.
Yeah, it's pretty serious.
Let's see, that blonde girl who was shot last week made the tenth victim, didn't she?
Yeah, and her warning came in four months ago.
Well, one thing you can say about this sniper, he's got patience.
He's got more than patience.
He's got the cunning of a warped brain, the heartlessness of a man who doesn't know the meaning of human emotions.
You think he's nuts, huh?
Sure he's nuts.
All his predecessors were nuts, like Jack the Ripper and all the others.
You know, honey, the trouble is there's a type of insanity that only a psychiatrist would recognize.
Criminals like the sniper are the most dangerous.
The police are taking an awful beating from the taxpayers.
I know.
I talked to Bill Megsdown at headquarters yesterday.
He's about ready to throw in the sponge.
He won't. Bill talks about quitting, but he never will.
Dog, garnet, glamour, puss, what are we going to do?
What are we going to do?
Now listen, Chuck, if you begin sticking your chin out on this, I'll divorce you.
I absolutely refuse to give you a divorce until after we're married.
Hmm, very funny.
Okay, so I'll break our engagement.
We aren't engaged.
We are, too.
You proposed to me two weeks ago, and I accepted.
Oh, that.
It's official and final, and there's nothing you can do about it.
I'm even making payments on a ring, which Pappy Mansfield has agreed to deduct from your salary.
He what?
Well, you certainly don't expect me to be engaged without a ring.
Oh, do you want it to become known around town that Chuck Morgan is a che...
I give. Answer the phone.
Chuck Morgan, you don't seem to realize...
Answer the phone, I said.
Oh, all right.
Ring.
Chuck Morgan's office.
Who?
Chuck.
Hmm?
It's the sniper.
Give me that phone.
Morgan speaking.
I see.
Now listen up.
Chuck, what did he say?
He said just two words, glamour puss.
You're next.
Well, it looked like I was going to stick out my chin on this deal, whether I wanted to or not.
Now I knew how those other victims had felt when they heard the warning come to them over the phone.
Wasn't a pleasant feeling.
You thought of yourself walking along a street some night and hearing the bark of a rifle, feeling the impact of a bullet between your shoulder blades.
You wondered what night it would be.
And you thought of all the nights in between before it happened.
And you wished you were a million miles away living in a desert island.
The voice that came to me over the phone was neither young nor old.
He could have been 16 or 60, but it didn't matter.
What he said was what mattered.
And the implication of it was still ringing in my ears when I hung up the phone.
Chuck, this is horrible. It's awful.
All right, don't get excited, glamour puss. I'm not dead yet.
Well, you will be. All of the others are. Every single one of them.
That's a cheerful picture.
Oh, I'm sorry. Only I couldn't bear it.
Now listen, little one, on the way. Let's cut out being so morbid and do some constructive thinking, will you?
Okay.
Do you remember Danny Yates?
Oh, sure. He was a little bookmaker, a couple of racketeers for him for a job he didn't do.
That's the one.
And you saved him from a five-year stretch by proving him innocent.
Right. Now our first move will be to go down and have a talk with Danny.
Are you crazy?
Huh?
The only place we can find Danny Yates is on Skid Row. And Skid Row is where the sniper hangs out.
Oh, that's only theory, glamour puss. Nobody knows where the sniper hangs out.
Besides, it's the last place he'd expect to find me.
Come on, come on, come on. Get your bonnet.
I had a theory about our friend the sniper. You know, usually guys like him follow the pattern.
The pattern stemmed from frustration.
Killing was the release of the same pent-up energy that warped their brains.
And because of this frustration, they all had the same weakness, a desire for recognition, all of which didn't prove anything.
But if Danny Yates reacted the way I hoped he would, then he would be dead.
But if Danny Yates reacted the way I hoped, I might get a lead.
It was getting dark when Carol and I reached Skid Row.
The place hadn't changed much since my last visit. Skid Rows never do, except to grow bigger.
I still don't see why you didn't tell Bill Megs and get some police protection.
If I had, they wouldn't let me come down here.
But that's what I mean. Oh, I hate this place.
Then why did you come?
Well, if you're going to be shot in the back, I want to be on hand to catch the body when it falls.
Ouch. Ah, you're a cute kid, Glamourpus.
Well, here's the joint.
Joint is right. What crummy-looking characters.
The time has come for you to stop talking, Glamourpus, so shut up.
Oh, sometimes I wonder why I don't hate you.
Oh, let's take a look around.
Yeah, yeah, there's Danny at the corner table over there playing his usual game of solitaire. Come on.
The black six goes on the red seven, Danny.
I like hoist playing the... Oh.
Hello, Morgan. Hi.
What's on your mind? Social visit, Danny. Mind if we sit down?
Ah, go ahead.
How about buying us a drink? Sure. What do you have?
Smyrnaf vodka and soda for me. How about the chick?
The chick isn't drinking. She's particular. Now, listen, Glamourpus...
Don't blast her out, Morgan. She's cute.
That's what Chuck just told me. And you can both keep your compliments.
Hey, Mike. Yeah, Danny.
Two smyrnafs and soda. All right.
What's it all about, Morgan? Want a tip on a horse?
Yeah. The eleventh race is coming up, Danny. The horse's name is Sniper.
There ain't no such horse.
Oh, yes, yes. He's been running a lot of dead heats lately.
What do you think his chances of losing the next one are, Danny?
I don't know what you're talking about. Here's your drinks.
Yeah. Put them on my tab, Mike. Okay.
Danny, you have the reputation of being an honest bookie.
You always pay your debts. And you figure I owe you something?
Five years is a long time to be locked up for a man who likes his freedom as much as you.
Yeah. This tip on your horse kind of important to you personally, Morgan?
Practically a matter of life and death.
I get it. Wait here.
All right.
I didn't know you were so good at double talk, Chuckie boy.
Danny prefers it that way.
Well, you're not silly enough to think that he or anyone else down here actually knows the identity of the sniper, do you?
Nobody down here wants to know the sniper's identity. Then they can't talk.
Well, suppose he began sniping at some of the local characters.
He'd be surprised how quickly he'd be found out.
You got a pencil and paper, Morgan?
Right here.
All right. Write down this number. 222 Front Street.
There's a chick lives there named May. She's got a kid brother named Tony.
Kind of a wild kid. Likes to play horses.
Got it.
Danny, your pal.
Step it, Morgan. By the way, you figure we're square now?
The slate's wiped clean, Danny. Thanks.
The Front Street was an alley that divided a city block.
The streetlight burned in the end we entered.
The buildings on either side were old and seemed to be mostly deserted.
Our shadows marched ahead of us as we advanced into the gloom.
A figure peered out at us from the darkness of a doorway.
We heard the step and whirled around.
But whoever it was must have gotten cold feet when he saw my hand reached her le poct.
Footsteps pounded away down the alley.
I began to wish I hadn't let Carol come with me.
Then I remembered what an important role she was playing in this drama, much more than even she suspected.
We stopped before a door. I let a match. Saw that it was 2.22.
Well, this is it.
May and her brother must like to live away from things.
Low rent is probably the answer to that one.
Now look, after we've talked to May a few minutes, I want you to remind me of something.
For instance?
Well, make it go something like this.
Hey, Chuck, don't forget that you're meeting Danny Yates at the corner of Wilshire and Rossmoor at 11.30.
Stop me if I'm wrong, but didn't we just leave Danny Yates?
Will you do as I say and don't ask questions?
Okay, okay. Well, suppose May isn't home.
We'll just have to think of something.
The girl who answered the door was the homeliest email I'd ever seen.
She had a hoarse face and bucked teeth. Her skin was pockmarked and her eyes were crossed.
Then we got another shock.
She spoke and her voice was the antithesis of her looks. It was low, resonant, and rich.
Yes?
Are you May?
Yes, I am. Won't you come in?
Thanks.
I suppose you're the police.
What makes you think that?
I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later.
You're after Tony, aren't you? I suppose you have a warrant?
Tony, your brother?
Yes.
What do you think he's done?
I don't know.
Will you wait here a minute, please?
Tony?
Yeah?
Will you come here a minute, please?
Hey, who's the broad?
That'll be enough, Tony.
No kidding, sis. She's got class. Introduce me, will you?
They're from the police, Tony.
Are you kidding? This baby ain't no cop.
Hey, how about a chick?
If you don't mind, I don't like being poached.
Aw, don't be so hard to get along with. I go for blondes. Honest, I do.
Keep your hands off her, son.
Well, listen to him.
Sure you're a special property or something?
Could be. Let go of her.
Sure I will. And just what do you think you're gonna punk?
I'm going to do this about it.
I'm sorry, May, but your brother doesn't seem to have any manners.
He's always been that way. I'm glad you had any deserved it.
Tony's all the family I have, and I try not to blame him too much.
Oh, you poor kid. Here, sit down.
Oh, my jaw. What happened?
He ran into something that didn't agree with him.
Get up on your feet. Now sit down on that chair and behave yourself.
Keep your hands off me, jughead. So you're a cop, huh?
Well, you ain't got nothing on me. Nothing.
I don't imagine it'd take very long to get something on you.
But since I'm not a cop, we'll skip it for now.
Not from the police?
No, I'm Chuck Morgan, newscaster in KOP. This is my secretary, Carol Curtis.
Oh, then Tony hasn't gotten into trouble again.
That's a matter of opinion.
Oh, thank goodness. Lately, every time there's been a knock at the door,
it's been someone looking for Tony with a complaint.
Oh, will you quit your blubbering, sis? I ain't done nothing.
If you're Chuck Morgan, what are you doing here?
Came down to see a friend of mine, Danny Yates, and gives me tips on horses.
Someone at the saloons said I might find him here.
Well, he ain't here.
So I see.
What difference does it make, Chuck?
Huh?
Hey, didn't you leave word to have Danny meet you at the con of Rossmoor and Wilshire at 1130?
Yeah, but meeting him here would have simplified matters, that's all.
All right, let's get going.
May, I'm sorry if we troubled you.
Oh, it's all right, Mr. Morgan.
I'm just glad that Tony hasn't done anything wrong, that's all.
Well, I wouldn't count on that too much, May.
Kids like Tony usually wind up behind bars.
They get ideas.
They get away with one or two jobs and think they're smarter than the cops.
But it never works out that way.
A fact that Tony, I believe, is going to find out sooner than he thinks.
Well, I'd been shooting arrows into the air all evening without knowing for sure where any of them were going to fall.
I'd learned a couple of things for sure and was guessing it a lot more.
Everything now depended on who was listening to my 11 o'clock broadcast.
Carol and I got back to the studio about 1030 and found Pappy Mansfield, owner of KOP, waiting for us.
Hi, Pappy.
Say, where in the devil are you two been?
Don't you realize you've got an 11 o'clock broadcast?
No, no, no, no, Pappy. It's only 1030, plenty of time.
Plenty of time my foot.
There's all that wire stuff that's got to be gone over and the script written.
Carol, you get into the newsroom.
No, no, no, wait a minute, hold it, glamour puss.
We can forget the wire stuff tonight, Pappy. Carol and I have dug up a better yarn.
Mmm, that's really a honey, Pappy. Wait till you hear it.
It better be good. Well, what is it?
Your favorite newscaster had a call from the sniper tonight.
What news about that? There's a lot of people that should get... What? You mean the sniper called you?
Right.
I don't believe it. He wouldn't dare.
Don't be so sure, Pappy. I'm no different than anyone else if the sniper wants to call me. He has every right and word to call me.
Chuck, this is serious, my boy. You act as if you're delighted at the prospect of being shot in the back.
Well, that's what I've been telling him all evening. Only he won't listen.
Eh, Pappy, I'm delighted about two things. First, this is going to be a knockout of a story for my broadcast tonight.
And second, it's going to be the end of the sniper.
I suppose you figure that when your dear public learns their favorite newscaster has been picked for elimination,
they'll demand that the sniper give himself up. And he'll do.
Mmm, amounts to the same thing, I hope.
You sound pretty sure of yourself.
I'm just whistling in the dark, Pappy. I'm really scared stiff.
You would be too, Pappy, if you knew somebody was going to shoot you in the back.
Well, you don't have to apologize for him, Carol. Have you notified the police?
Well, he wouldn't let me. Instead, we took a trip down to Skid Row. Chuckie Boy got a tip on a horse race.
Then we called on May. Oh, it was loads of fun.
All right, all right, Glamour Puss. Your sarcasm isn't helping the situation.
Pappy, look, as usual, I've got to ask you to give me a hand in this. How about it?
Well, you know you can count on me, Chuck, but first I'd like to have you cut out all this double talk
and bring me up to date on the facts. I know you've been up to something. Now, what is it?
Good. Carol, get into the office and start knocking out tonight's script while Pappy and I go into a huddle, hmm?
Okay, but just remember, I'm in on this too.
Pappy, the first thing I want you to do is call Bill Megs at headquarters. Tell him that I...
I did my broadcast as per schedule, making a big thing of the fact that I was next on the sniper's list.
The telephone began ringing almost at once, and Carol had a time of it, assuring everyone I had ample police protection,
and for the time being at least was safe.
Well, Carol and I left the studio a few minutes after 11.15 and drove out Vine to Rossmar.
Just beyond 6th, we parked at Jaloppy and walked up towards Wilshire on the west side of the street.
We came to a driveway with a hedge and stopped in the shadows. Wait here a minute, Glamour Puss, I'll be right back.
Where are you going?
Keep your eye on the corner up there and don't move.
Okay.
I went up the drive and around the garage and checked on the street in the next block,
then I came back to where Carol waited.
Anything happen?
Well, a car just drove up and parked beyond the bus stop on Wilshire.
The car, Carol pointed out, was an old convertible.
The top was up, but there was no glass in the back window. It was headed west.
Anyone sitting inside had a clear view of the benches that were placed at the bus stop.
I wasn't sure, but I thought that the convertible's motor was idling.
Chuck, look at the crowd gathering at the bus stop.
Gee, that's an awful lot of people to be waiting for a bus at this time of night.
I hope the sniper, if he's waiting and that convertible doesn't think so, he might get suspicious.
Suspicious of what?
Most of those people are cops. It's all part of the plan.
What plan? Why aren't I in on it?
You're in on it more than you think, Glamour Puss, and I'll tell you all about it in the morning.
Why, you... Do you mean I've been a guinea pig all evening?
Mm-hmm, more or less. Now listen, will you stop asking questions?
Okay.
And maybe I'll tell you what's going to happen.
Oh, you're better.
Look, in a minute, Danny Yates is going to come walking up Wilshire towards the bus stop.
Uh-huh.
He'll mingle with the crowd.
A minute after that, the bus will come along and everyone will get on but Danny.
What will he be doing?
He'll be left sitting on the bench alone, a perfect target for the sniper.
Who's in the parked convertible?
Yes, well, at least that's what we're going to find out.
If he is, he'll probably take a shot at Danny and then head up Wilshire.
Now, unless I miss my guess, he'll turn right on Muirfield to get out of the traffic.
Wait a minute. There's something cockeyed here.
Why is the sniper going to sniper Danny Yates when you're his boy?
Muirfield Street makes a turn after it leaves Wilshire and swings back to Rossmoor.
Now, I'm counting on the sniper not knowing that because there's a police blockade over there right now.
Which doesn't answer my question. Why is the sniper...
Shh, keep quiet. Here comes Danny.
Danny came briskly up to the bus stop, timing his arrival with the arrival of the bus itself.
He mingled with the crowd and for a minute I lost him.
Then the last of the people got on. The bus swung away and Danny was left sitting alone on the bench.
Then something happened I hadn't counted on.
The bus as it passed the parked convertible began to backfire.
I glanced at it and then back to Danny. Danny was gone.
But I could see one of his legs sticking up over the back of the bench. Then Carol yelled.
The convertible, Chuck, it's moving away.
Wait here, glamour puss.
I ran up the driveway, cut across a patch of lawn and fought at a five foot fence.
I landed on my hands and knees just as a pair of headlights swung around the corner of Muirfield.
It was a convertible.
And the driver saw the blockade of police cars at the moment I was getting to my feet.
It slewed into the opposite curve with a squealing of brakes.
The door opened and a figure got out and sprinted across the lawn. I followed.
The figure disappeared around the house.
The lights sprang out on the house. Their reflection showed me a shadow climbing over a back fence.
I took a running jump.
The two of us landed on the other side at the same time.
Something swished through the air and I caught the gleam of a rifle barrel.
The blow struck me glancingly and I went down.
I saw the rifle barrel coming again and I made a lunge to the guy's legs.
I hung on for dear life, dodging his blows with the rifle till my head had cleared.
Then I reared up and dumped the guy.
I grabbed him by the shirt front, pulled him into me and then I gave him a hard right.
And he crumpled up like a coke dropped from a hook.
Well, mister, I guess this is the end of the trail.
Chuck, Chuck Morgan, where are you?
I must have gone over the fence.
I'm over here, Pappy.
I got out my lighter and knelt down and pulled out the guy's hat.
A mass of hair spilled out from under that hat.
The face that was revealed by the rays from my lighter was pockmarked and ugly.
It was the face of May.
You all right, Chuck?
Sure, sure I'm fine.
So that's the sniper, eh?
Well, he had... Holy smoke, it's a girl.
It's a girl, Pappy.
What a lousy break life gave her.
And what a lousy break she gave all her victims.
I don't mean it that way, Pappy. I was thinking of something else.
Oh, you were? What?
Don't think you'd understand, Pappy.
But remind me to tell Carol to congratulate herself the next time she looks into a mirror.
Carol and Pappy and I dropped into Nicodels for a beer and a sandwich before saying good night.
Seemed good to see some bright lights and pleasant faces again.
To know when I parked my car in the lot behind my apartment house later on.
I wouldn't have to worry about a sniper peering through the sides of a rifle at my shoulder blades.
I knew that Carol and Pappy had a lot of questions they wanted answered.
And that neither of them was too happy about the way I'd handle this affair.
Now, let's see. We don't want to offend this mighty genius, Pappy.
But wouldn't it be just dandy if he broke down and told us the secret of his great success?
It would indeed, my dear. It would indeed.
Now, look, I was only doing my duty as a good citizen and as a news reporter.
Ha ha ha. Well, why didn't you let me in on it?
Yeah, me.
All right, all right. Here's the way it was.
In the first place, I figured out this frustration angle.
It had to be someone like May. Only, of course, I thought it was a man.
Well, think of that. The great mind made a mistake.
You see, May was enjoying her publicity.
Even though she remained anonymous, it was the only recognition she had in her life.
So when I announced over the air tonight I'd received a warning from the sniper.
It burned her up to think that someone else was stealing her stuff.
Someone else?
Yeah.
Glamour, puss.
Beer?
You didn't actually think that the sniper had called me, did you?
Well, why shouldn't I?
Yeah, who was it then?
It was Danny Yates, Pappy.
No.
You see, Danny had been wanting to repay me for the favor I'd done him, so I gave him his chance.
He pretended to be the sniper for Carol's benefit.
Then he pretended that he was giving me a tip on the races for Carol's benefit.
Then I let May know I knew Danny Yates.
At 11, I broadcast the fact that I'd been warned.
May heard the broadcast, and she put two and two together.
She figured it was Danny who was trying to muscle in on her act.
Chuck Morgan, do you mean that all the time I...
Look, I had to do it, Glamour, puss.
If you thought I'd been warned by the sniper, Pappy, Bill Megs, and everyone else would be convinced.
I had to make the whole thing look like for real.
Neither one of you would have helped me with a crazy idea like this if you thought I was pretending.
And who was that sitting on the bench at the bus stop?
It was a dummy dressed up to look like Danny.
Pappy helped with that.
Danny himself boarded the bus, got in with the crowd, crouched down, and rode away.
Oh, I don't know whether to feel mad or glad that the big lug's alive.
Pappy, what would you do?
Why don't you just order another beer and forget the whole thing?
I'll tell you what I'd do, Carol.
I'll tell you, I'd skip a couple of payments on your ring that he's paying for.
Now, that ought to fix you, hasn't it?
Oh, Pappy, that's a wonderful idea.
That's just what I'll do.
Then he'll have to...
Now, wait a minute, wait a minute.
Now, I didn't order any ring.
I'm sorry, I can't afford to have a ring.