Mystery House
Mystery House, that strange publishing firm owned by Dan and Barbara Glenn, where each
new novel is acted out by the Mystery House staff before it is accepted for publication.
Come right in, Art.
We're just about ready to start.
Hi, Mrs. Glenn.
Where's Dan?
He was called out of town on business, a publisher's convention.
Uh-uh.
I know all about these conventions.
So do I, Mr. Hearn.
That's why I lowered him down with so much work he won't have time to draw a deep breath.
Say, speaking of deep breath, have you ever noticed how important breathing is to a readyman
out there?
In what way?
Why, you have to breathe deeply to make your commercial announcement sound natural and
easy.
Take this, for example.
All right, everybody in your places, set the scene, guys.
Death at Deadline.
Tonight's story opens in the private office of Luke Chilton, managing editor of The Star.
One of his reporters, Pamela Carter, enters to announce an unwelcome caller.
You have a caller, Luke.
Oh, yes, Pam.
I'm busy as a devil right now.
I'm making the dummy on page one.
The same old caller, Luke.
You don't mean Jim Bullen.
The same.
He always comes when I'm busy and he knows a darn well.
I'll tell him you're not in.
No, that won't do.
He knows I'm in.
Look, Luke, why not give him the bums, then?
Just because he was a reporter on The Star and you followed him...
Oh, it's not that I'm soft, Pam.
I feel sorry for the guy.
He could have been a good reporter if he...
If he hadn't had a heart full of larceny, why, you'd have lost your own job if you'd
let him get away with the kind of shit down he was pulling.
No respectable people...
I know, I know.
Show him in.
You are too soft, Luke.
You'll see you, Jim.
Thanks.
Oh, don't run am I account, Pammy.
Hello, Jim.
Busy as a little bumblebee, aren't you, Luke?
I am busy, Jim.
And a little hard up.
Ten bucks is just about all I can spare.
Give it, Luke.
Surprise.
I'm not after money tonight.
No?
No.
I've been thinking things over and I've decided to come back to work for The Star.
I am sorry, Jim.
You're a good reporter, but after what happened...
When it was blackmailed, Jim, you suppressed the story for money.
The whole staff knew about it.
If I put you back on, I'd lose a respectable buddy in the plant.
I always liked The Star.
If you're ready to get down to business and do a good reporting job, there's no reason
why you can't get back to work.
But not on this newspaper.
But it's on The Star I want to work for, Luke.
You don't seem to understand.
I am sorry, Jim.
Look, I've decided to go back on The Star.
And if you're smart, you'll take me.
I told you I can't, Jim.
If you don't, you'll be making a big mistake.
Then it's a mistake I'll have to make.
I'm giving you a chance, Luke.
You're giving me a chance.
Now listen here.
Listen to what I said.
You fired me.
I took my spanking like a little man.
But I've decided the period of punishment's over.
I'm back.
No, you are not.
You and your pious talk of blackmail.
You know why you fired me just as well as I do.
Do you think I ever fell for that blackmail gag?
That was the truth, Ray.
You fired me because you're in love with Pam Carter
and you thought I was in the way.
You can't talk to me like that and get away with it.
I can't talk that way because you don't want to hear the truth.
I was running you a close race with Pam till you fired me.
Get out of here.
I don't have to put up with this kind of talk.
You blew right in here.
No right in The Star? Why?
Because I was fired by you.
But you're going to hire me again.
You're wrong, Jim.
Did wrong.
Now get out of here.
I'll have some of the boys threw you out.
I'm getting back under The Star back where Pam is.
Back where I can straighten things out with her.
And if I can't do it because you're here,
I'll have to see that you're not here.
You think you can get my job?
Go ahead and try.
I'm not talking about your job, Luke.
I'm talking about you.
I can get rid of you so easy you wouldn't believe it.
Permanently.
Well, another day, another dollar.
I'm heading for home in a little shut eye.
I'll buy you a cup of coffee if you're ready for me.
No thanks. I need to sleep.
You stick around here until the first edition's off the press
and that means another half hour kills.
In the words of the old song,
I'm tired and I want to go to bed.
Well, don't say I didn't offer.
Good night, Pam.
Good night, Luke.
Oh, and by the way, did Jim Boland make another touch?
No.
This time he demanded his job back.
Demanded his job back?
Yes.
What? He must be crazy.
Made all kinds of threats.
I don't see why you put up with him.
Well, see you tomorrow.
Right, pal.
Well, I might as well get out some nukes
from the city editor and the Y desk.
Yeah.
You want to see me?
You're a little chitlin', ain't you?
That's right.
Then I want to see you.
Have a chair.
I'll stand up, thanks.
I talk better on my feet.
What do you want?
I'm Jeff Corkland.
Oh, yes.
We've had a few stories about you with Corkland.
But I never had the pleasure of meeting him.
It ain't going to be any pleasure for you, Chilton.
No?
No.
I got a tip you're letting loose on me
in tomorrow morning's paper.
Then you've been misinformed, Corkland.
Not that it wouldn't be a pleasure to have a story on you.
You got it all right.
If you'd be obliged me with the facts,
I'd be happy to prove it.
Don't try to bluff me, Chilton.
You're blowing me wide open with a story about my gambling joint.
You're wrong.
If I ever get the chance, I will.
But you don't figure in tomorrow's news.
Not yet, in any rate.
I'll believe you when I see the paper.
Well, you won't have to wait long.
The boy should bring me a copy in a couple of minutes.
I'll wait.
Who told you there was going to be a story about you?
That's none of your business.
But I'm afraid it is.
The people on this paper are telling out saddys about the...
Oh, it wasn't anybody who worked for you.
I know how you feel about that.
I've got the same kind of trouble.
Rats that give tip-offs.
Oh, pardon me.
Here's your paper, Mr. Chilton.
Thanks, Billy.
You can now beat it now.
Okay. Good night, Mr. Chilton.
Good night.
Here, ladies, coordinate and look it over.
Is it on the front page?
I told you there isn't any story about you.
You can start with the front page if you like.
All right.
You know, the paper seemed kind of dead
without the war news anymore.
A nice murder, huh?
Say, I want to spend some time reading that one.
Professionalist?
Yeah. Hey, hey, what's that?
What are you trying to pull?
I don't get you.
This story about me right in the bottom of the front page.
About you. There's nothing...
Now, you think I can't read?
Huh. Jeff Corkland, number one hoodlum and gangster, is through.
Tomorrow, the star begins a sensational expose
of his operations, naming names, dates, and places.
The star today accuses Jeff Corkland of crimes
ranging from crooked gambling to murder.
All of these charges will be substantiated
and fielded to your articles.
Files on Corkland have been billed up over a period of months,
and all the star's information will be turned over
to any authorities who are interested.
Today, the star...
You didn't know nothing about it, huh?
I never saw the story before, Moller.
What do you think you're talking to us, Saps?
Somebody's been playing tricks around here.
Just a minute.
Make a move for that phone and I'll...
I just want to call the composing room.
I've got to find out where that story came from.
You know where it came from, all right?
Hey, shut up!
Okay, wise guy.
Take a look at all this information you say you got.
I don't have any information.
All right!
Think you're going to send me to the pen
without my even raising a finger?
Let's have it, Shelton.
I don't have a finger.
Oh, no?
Not much.
You put yourself right out on a limb
like you do in that story if you didn't have proof.
Come across.
That story never came out of this office.
I'm getting kind of tired of listening to that kind of guff, Shelton.
We're in pain with a little boy.
I mean, Sigmund.
You...
fool.
Put down that gun.
Get me that proof you're yelping about,
or I'll blast your head off.
Now, where's the stuff in?
Look around if you want to leave.
I'll look around, all right?
Here's nothing here.
I know you cheated from calling the composing room.
The more papers are going out.
You see, you got me right on the spot, don't you?
Dope on a murder rap, huh?
I don't know a thing about it.
Somebody spilled it to you.
One of my boys.
Think you got me cold, huh?
Well, let me tell you something, wise boy.
I got you cold, too.
The joint deserted.
Even the office boys left.
Must be close at 3 o'clock in the morning.
Nobody on the street.
I can get away from here plenty easy,
and I can fix up an alibi.
Now, either you give me that information,
or I'm going to blow you right off of the map.
You fool, you've got to believe me.
I believe you, all right.
I believe what you wrote in the paper.
It says right at the top of the page.
If you read it in a star, it's so.
And plenty other people believe it, too.
What have I got to do to convince you
that I don't know anything about it?
You couldn't do it, funny boy.
First, I get a tip from a guy who knows what you're doing.
He says certain things.
I come here and what he says checks.
Everything checks except you.
OK, so will I.
Do you start arguing with me?
Be one with you.
Give me all that proof you say you got about me.
But I don't have a thing.
I'm getting kind of tired mucking around with you.
Either come across me for our count of three,
or I'm going to blast you.
One, two.
Now listen to me.
Who gave you the tip?
That might be important.
Guy used to work for you.
Still a friend of yours.
A guy who spends a lot of time with you.
Two.
Gin Bowlin.
He doesn't know a thing about what's going on around here.
He sure knew about that story.
Tell him you're stalling for time.
One, two.
All right, wise guy.
You fool.
You've been framed.
You're worse.
The fool gave it to you.
How does Jim Bowlin, the ex-reporter,
figure in this murder?
And what good will it do if it doesn't any good?
We'll find out in the second act of the night story.
Meanwhile, here's a message from our sponsor.
And now, act two of Death at Deadline.
Jeff Corklin has made a frenzied search of Luke Shelton's office
without finding any evidence of his crimes.
He's just getting ready to leave.
Jim Bowlin.
Yeah.
Where do you think you're going, Corklin?
I think big enough to stop me bowling you.
I wouldn't wait for your gun to fire you, Corklin.
I won't hesitate to kill you and your cover
before you even get started.
You dirty rat.
You were the guy who tipped me off.
Sure.
Sure, I was the one.
And I knew what you'd do, too.
What's the big idea?
You thought I was working with you, didn't you, Corklin?
Well, I wasn't.
I'll take your gun if you don't mind.
No.
I said I'll take it.
Thanks.
You tipped me off in a story.
You told me how long to wait before I came up here
so I'd get to talk to Shelton alone.
Why are you trying to turn me in?
What's it all about?
Maybe I'll tell you sometime, Corklin.
Right now, I think I'd better call the police.
Ellen?
Oh, Riley?
Riley, this is Jim Bowlin over at the Star.
Bring over a couple of good strong boys.
I've got a murder for you, and it's a little tough to handle.
No, no, I'm not joking.
I said I'm murder, and that's exactly what I mean.
Right.
Goodbye.
Why, you dirty double-
Stand by, Corklin.
There's nothing I like any better than to shoot you.
You mean you were working on the Star
all this time?
Sure.
You know, Luke had an idea that no reporter
could get the goods on Corklin
because the hoots that every newspaper man in town spotted.
So we planted that blackmail story about me,
and I got fired.
At least, that's what everybody thought.
But you really were fired.
You mean I was taken off the payroll?
Sure.
Luke was afraid there would be some loops in the office,
so he really did it up-ground.
That's why I came in to borrow money from him so often.
He was giving me the full amount of my check every week,
and then he was going to get the money back from the paper
once we broke with the story.
But he seemed so convincing.
I really thought-
I know.
Ah, good old Luke.
He could put on a good act when he had to.
But he didn't even tell me.
Tam, honey, that was one thing he really felt bad about.
Now, did your neighbors tell me?
No, about making me look bad to you.
He figured he'd sort of broken things up between us,
said the first thing he was going to do after the story broke
was square me with you.
But Luke and I were in love with each other.
We were going to get married.
That bothered him too, honey.
He said he was afraid you'd fallen for him,
and that, well, he just wasn't the marrying kind.
But that's not true.
Try not to be sordid, Tammy.
He was putting on a show to get a whale of a big story.
He was a newspaper man.
But what happened with the story?
What happened to all the information about Corkland?
The document contained.
Corkland got him, of course.
But the cops can't figure out how he got him out of the place
unless he had one of his boys with him
and sent him off before he got loose.
Oh, Officer Riley.
Hi, Riley.
Corkland took him down and said he'd already
get the papers yet?
No, but he's gotten better than that.
He's confessed to another murder.
Another murder?
There's a former of the Star Composing Room,
Blue Herman Shoots.
It seems kind of funny, Shoots,
leaving that note that had been called out of town
right when the murder was taking place.
But why would he kill the Composing Room cop?
Yeah.
He said he went to this Shoots
and asked him to keep the story out of the paper.
Shoots wouldn't do it.
So he got him outside and he killed him.
He was planning on going back into the Composing Room
then and taking the story out himself.
But he didn't know how to unlock the page form.
Did he tell you where the body is?
No, Worse Luck.
That's what's burning me up.
He tells us he killed the Shoots
and then he sits and laughs at us.
He says it's up to us to find the body.
And we can't do nothing about it
till we find the cop.
That's right.
You can't, can you?
All right, Gawson.
Here he is.
We'll make it snappy.
Hello, Miss Carter.
Hello.
Listen, copper, what are you standing around for?
I said I wanted to talk to the lady alone.
All right, all right.
But don't fix now.
Daddy, Mr. Coghlan.
Is that gag of yours about my killing the Composing Room
form and working?
Right.
The police have finally started looking for him and Shoots.
You know, kind of funny how things work out.
What do you mean?
Why, they are hating me for killing your sweetheart
and wanting revenge.
And I hate Jim Bowling and want revenge.
And the only way we can both get what we want
is by working together.
Somehow, Mr. Coghlan, I don't hate you as much as I did at first.
You believe my story about what happened, huh?
I know it's true.
Jim Bowling was just this dirty a killing loop
that he pulled the trigger.
It was that story.
And everything depends on my hunch that Jim Bowling,
part of that story, then kicked you out.
I was crazy tall when I seen it in the stars.
Being impenetrable like that meant I was all true.
I lost my head.
This was exactly what you were supposed to do.
If the police would just find the composing room,
then I'm fine.
Maybe you don't even know he's dead.
He has to be.
The only way Jim could have found a bad story
was through him and Shoots.
And he couldn't have done it so soon.
The guy left a note saying he was going away.
But the note is typing.
Bowling's still here other than me, but they can't touch him.
We should just find a body.
There may not even be a body.
There is.
Somewhere.
Gordon, I just got my Jim Bowling pay for killing Luke.
So I could help you with that job.
I'll get Jim Bowling.
Somehow.
Somewhere.
You know, baby, when you get your teeth like that,
I'd give you a job in my mob.
If I was out.
There.
Well, we'll see for the night, Sam.
Going home?
No.
I wish you'd stay a few minutes, Jim.
Why?
I just called Officer Riley.
What for?
Well, that's new evidence on Luke's murder.
Look, honey, I wish you'd forget that murder business.
It's all settled.
They got Corkland cold.
What more do you want?
They're still him and Schultz.
You know something?
I don't believe Schultz is even dead.
I think Corkland uses this appearance to make things up.
He knows they won't go to trial until they find Schultz's body.
That's a very interesting theory, which shows you don't know the facts.
What do you mean?
You'll see.
Oh, there's Riley now.
That's not as bad as I could, Miss Corker.
What's this all about, anyway?
I want you to put Jim Bowen under arrest, Officer Riley.
That was a joke.
I was never more serious in my life.
Pam, what's this all about?
It's your idea of a joke that's been rotten-pasted.
It's not a joke.
Did you think I believed you when you said Luke wasn't really in love with me?
Eh?
So you thought about that.
I never believed it for a minute.
You hated Luke because he fired you.
Because I left him instead of you.
For a lot of reasons.
You decided to kill him, but you didn't kill him.
You decided to kill him, but you didn't have the nerve to do it yourself.
And you were not too clever for that, anyway.
Oh, Pam, please.
Don't be so melodramatic.
You took Jeff Corklin off that Luke was going to run an expose of Corklin's rocket.
You told Corklin to come in after the deadline, and there wouldn't be anyone else in the office.
You're not the beautiful storm.
I'm the cool one.
Then you wrote that story about Corklin.
I thought you'd expose his whole family.
Look, I wasn't even supposed to be working on the paper.
I'd have had fun getting a story published, wouldn't I?
That's where I'm going to get you, Jim.
You had to enlist Herman Sultz's aide to get that story with the star.
You told him some lie.
Probably that Luke had edited it in.
Once that story was locked up in a page form, you still Luke's death warrant.
That's a nice theory, Pam, but you don't have an ounce of proof for it.
That's right, Miss Carter.
You've got to be careful about making such accusations.
Oh, I don't mind, Riley.
But I do have proof.
I got the original copy of that Parker Moon story, and it wasn't typed and looked typed like it.
Is that right now?
Which doesn't give me a fever, does it?
I had a, well, a friend of mine go into your apartment, Jim.
The type on your typewriter checks that the typing in the story.
So what?
So what? It means that you wrote this story.
Well, what if it does?
You kill Luke.
With that Corkin to come in to see him, you timed it so he'd get that just before the papers came out of that story.
What if I did?
You can't hang a thing on me.
I'm Ligaree McClare, Jeff Corkin admitted killing Luke Sagan.
Let me get it.
There's no argument there.
You can't do a thing to me.
That's what I wanted to hear you say, Jim.
You can't...
Luke had it coming to him, but I didn't kill him.
You think you're awfully clever, don't you?
Clever enough so that I wasn't going to involve myself in murders, and I didn't.
I got what I wanted without taking any risk.
You're forgetting one thing, Jim, from actually important things.
I didn't forget anything.
You're forgetting the murder of Herman Schultz.
Remember?
But he doesn't murder.
Oh yes, yes he was.
Corkin confessed to that one, too.
Corkin rise.
He's using that as a stealthy...
Oh, hello, Jeff.
Got the first edition for us?
Yes, he's got it.
Right here.
Thanks.
Herman Schultz isn't dead.
No.
Take a look at the front page of the Star, Jim.
Let me see.
Police found body of Star Foreman.
The body of Herman Schultz, Star Composing Room Foreman, was found late last night by the police, a bullet in his temple.
The police were baffled by the fact that the bullet was not from the gun of Jeff Corkin, who had previously confessed to the murders.
That puts a different light on things now.
You were holding a gun on Corkin, and you called me over here to get him.
I'd like to be present and look at that gun, Boland.
Maybe the ballistics department would be interested, too.
Take that frame up.
I didn't kill Herman Schultz.
I'd like to see that gun, Boland.
Better let him have it, Jim.
No.
No, you're framing me.
You said that coming, Pam.
You get it, too.
That's right, Jim.
Flame everyone but yourself.
Hand over that gun, Boland.
I...
All right.
Here.
Sir, I've got to tell you...
I'll kill him.
Try and shoot at me, will you?
Why, you dirty...
Oh!
Oh, yeah.
I didn't kill him.
I...
I didn't kill anybody.
Well...
I had to do it.
Now the senses are vulnerable against the body.
You know what's funny?
They didn't tell me you were frustration about finding that body and you wasn't in a case
like I did.
Hey.
This isn't any bad old man.
What?
Nobody.
But it says right here...
You're not going to kill anybody.
You know it's funny they didn't tell me over at the station about finding that body.
It means there's another case like I've been.
But isn't anybody lying?
What?
Nobody.
But it says right here in the paper.
I know.
That's the second time that River
was hiding in Jim's apartment.
So it's been day over.
But if Jukes was hiding in Bolan's apartment, then Bolan knew he wasn't dead.
Last night I asked him if I could borrow his revolver.
Said I'd been scared they'd look for Blitzmutter.
He let me take it.
Only this evening I returned it to him with one minute left.
Then he saw that story, he thought I'd blamed him just as he blamed Luke.
He could see the police touching the bullets and finding the paint on his gun.
It never occurred to him that the star in the star was another thief.
It may have been a fake, but it sure got to his office.
Yes, it... I took care of those things.
I... I suppose I should be...
...should... should be more...
...more...