Suspense!
This is the Man in Black here again to introduce Columbia's program, Suspense.
Heading our star Hollywood cast tonight is Mr. Warren Williams, and with him is Mr. Eric Bloor.
No fewer than nine times have these two gentlemen appeared together in screen thrillers based on the adventures of one of the most celebrated characters of modern crime fiction.
This familiar character will speak to you now for the first time on the air, as with the story called Murder Goes for a Swim, and the performances of Warren Williams as Michael Lanyard and Eric Bloor as Jameson.
We again hope to keep you in...
Suspense!
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Allow me to introduce myself.
Nowadays, meeting me on the street, you'd most likely recognize me as Michael Lanyard, an author of sorts.
But, if you will not be true free with the information, because I've been in some pains to allow bygones to be bygones, I was once known rather well by quite a different name.
And there are still times when I find myself obliged, or should I say forced, to return to that character, to resort to the somewhat questionable talents of the lone wolf.
As a matter of fact, my presence here this evening is prompted by an uncontrollable desire to reminisce a little.
Hey, Jameson?
Oh, quite right, Mr. Lanyard. And if you'll pardon the gentleman's gentleman for saying so, sir, playing nip and tuck with the police, meeting lovely ladies, you pilfering an occasional gem, eye-living, so to speak, from hand to pocket.
Ha-ha! Those were the days, sir.
Yes, those were the days.
Absconding of times. Perhaps a touch of embezzlement here and there.
Now, now, hold on, Jameson. If we're going to reminisce in public, I suggest we can find our recollections to our later period, when the lone wolf had become a gentleman of leisure and used his talents in the interests of law and order.
In that case, sir, I suggest you relate the episode of our little experience of that horrible party we attended at that Long Island estate. Remember, sir?
Of course, Jameson, the Rutherford Bonds estate. If I remember correctly, the occasion was some sort of charity bizarre. We were invited for the weekend.
The phone rang just as we were about to leave the apartment.
Mr. Lanyard, this is Betty Lawson. You've never heard of me before, but I know you've been invited to spend the weekend with Mr. Rutherford Bonds. Please, you must accept the invitation. Come down immediately, right now.
It's just a little after two o'clock, and if you're not too late, the lone wolf may be able to prevent a murder.
Jameson and I arrived at the Bonds estate about two hours after we'd received the mysterious telephone message. I was introduced to all kinds of people. First, the famous gossip columnist, Ralph Clinton.
Well, Mr. Lanyard, this is indeed a surprise, and I might say a pleasant addition to our little gathering. Something always happens when you're lone wolfing around. Oh, I know, I know, you've reformed. But a fellow can hope for a little excitement, can't he? See you later, old man.
Then I met a very, very beautiful young lady. Oh, Mr. Lanyard, we haven't met yet. I'm Cynthia Waring. I've read all your stories and admired the ingenious way you solve those baffling mysteries. I think you're a wonderful friend.
And of course, there was our host himself, Mr. Rutherford Barnes, who had recently announced his engagement to Miss Waring. I believe you've met just about everyone, Lanyard. That is, everyone except Bill Hodges. He's the firebrand of our little congregation. He's probably wandering around walking off the effects of the last ten cocktails. Just make yourself comfortable.
Strangely enough, I failed to meet a Miss Betty Larson, the frightened young lady who had phoned. Anyway, the afternoon wore on through the beauty contest at which I was elected to preside as judge, and at which Miss Cynthia Waring, looking very pretty in a big picture hat and hoop skirt, was the winner.
After it was over, Jameson and I managed to break away from the rest of the guests, and to escape the heat of the afternoon, we prepared ourselves for a cooling dip in the pool.
I say, Mr. Lanyard, we've been to some pretty big and fancy places in our day, but this one is really something. This Rutherford Barnes person must be really an important person.
You're quite right, Jameson. Rutherford Barnes is listed in Who's Who as the gentleman who made a fortune out of sardines. Just think, an entire estate built of sardines.
Uncanny, isn't it, sir?
Oh, Jameson.
Forgive me, sir. No more puns, I promise.
Well, I should hope so.
I say, this pool is constructed just like a miniature lake. Lilies and all that sort of thing floating on top.
Quite naturally, if you're going down for the third time, you just take a lily with you.
Oh, what a jolly thought. Well, here goes. Watch this beautiful swan dive. I say, this is most unusual.
There's a sort of a mermaid lying on the bottom of the pool, and she's very pretty, sir.
Last night it was a firemaid, today it's a mermaid.
Oh, but really, sir?
Well, I'm the judge in the beauty contest. I'd better go down and have a look.
Don't be away too long, sir. Remember, there are lots of warmer women in the world.
Jameson, quick. Here, give me your hand.
Give me my hand, sir. It's a girl.
Quick, here, lift her out of here. Hurry.
I'm doing my best.
Here, now, let's put her down here.
Hold her there.
Jameson, I'm afraid she's dead.
What do you make of it, sir? What, was it an accident?
I don't know. There's a pretty nasty bump on the side of her head.
Perhaps she slipped and hit her head as she fell.
Perhaps, but her bathing suit, not quite the style you'd put on to take a swim.
Possibly she was in the beauty contest.
Of course, that's it.
The program listed ten contestants, yet only nine girls competed.
Meaning what, Mr. Lanyard?
Meaning, Jameson, that this poor kid was the tenth contestant.
And if my hunch is correct, her name is Betty Larson.
The girl with the telephone message?
Precisely. And if her call was on the level, we did arrive too late and she was murdered.
Mr. Lanyard!
Is Mr. Barnes in mis-wearing? Take off your robe and cover up the body, Jameson.
Yes, sir.
Well, Lanyard, we've been looking all over for you, haven't we, Cynthia dear?
Yes, of course. I'm glad we found you, Mr. Lanyard.
I've been wanting to thank you for awarding me the prize in the beauty contest this afternoon.
I really didn't think that...
Mr. Lanyard! There, at the edge of the pool!
Yes, it's a girl, and I'm afraid she's drowned.
Drowned? Oh, how horrible!
But how did it happen? Who is she?
I think she's Betty Larson. What do you think, Mr. Barnes? Here, look.
Oh, good heavens!
Oh, reference to the Lord!
Yes, yes, that is Betty Larson. I had no idea.
Then you do know the girl, Mr. Barnes.
Why, yes. As a matter of fact, only recently I recommended her for a job.
She's the local telephone operator.
In the village beauty. Mr. Barnes and Miss Larson were childhood sweethearts.
Mr. Barnes, tell me, do you know any... do any of the other guests know this girl?
Ralph Clinton, for instance. Could our famous columnist have possibly known Miss Larson?
Well, if not in person, most certainly by telephone.
You see, for the last few weeks Miss Larson handled my personal calls.
I see. Did she ever mention the fact that there might be a murder?
Murder?
Well, you see, I received a rather strange message.
Now look here, Lanyard. If you're insinuating that Miss Larson was murdered, you're all wrong.
It's perfectly obvious. She slipped and fell into the deep end of the pool.
She can't swim. We couldn't hear her cry for help over the noise of the party, so the poor girl drowned.
As simple as that, eh?
Why, of course. And I'd appreciate it if you'd be kind enough not to mention this accident to any of the other guests.
There's no need to disrupt the entire weekend.
I'll notify the sheriff and call the coroner and they'll take care of everything.
I think it might be a good idea, Mr. Lanyard, since you seem so certain that a murder's been committed that you and your man remain on the premises.
Our famous lone wolf may have a little explaining of his own to do.
Come along, Cynthia.
Oh, I'm completely at sea, Mr. Lanyard.
The sheriff seems to think the whole thing was an accident, that this Miss Betty Larson person dived into the pool and that's how she hit her head.
I doubt that, Jameson. According to Barnes, the girl couldn't swim.
Hey, buddy.
Oh, I think we have company.
Buddy.
Yeah?
If you see Mr. Barnes around, I want to see him.
I think he's over at the other side of the house, getting things ready for the bazaar.
Bazaar. They don't care how they celebrate a murder, do they?
If I'm not mistaken, you're Mr. Bill Hodges, eh?
Yeah. Betty Larson and I were gonna get married.
Everything was great until she starts going around with this society bunch.
I got a few things to settle with that society crowd, especially that keyhole peeper, Ralph Clinton.
You seem quite positive, Hodges, that your girl was murdered.
Well, I... What do you think it was, an accident?
That girl could swim like a fish. Nothing could happen to her in the water.
Hey, but Barnes says she couldn't swim a strew.
I said she could swim like a fish.
But Barnes says...
Did you hear me, you little runt? Amazing how that girl could swim.
Look here, Hodges, what makes you think Ralph Clinton had anything to do with this?
Do you know you're practically accusing him of murder?
Listen, Betty stood me up twice last week.
I followed her in my car and she met Clinton both times.
He was gonna put her in this contest, and she was a cinch to win. He promised her.
Then look what happens to her. She's dead. Murdered, I tell you.
Well, here comes Clinton now. Maybe you'd better tell him about it.
Oh, there you are, Hodges. I understand you've been looking for me.
Yeah, I have. And now I'm gonna fix that pretty face of yours.
Yeah, well, wait a second. Here, you can't do that.
Here, Jameson, help me break this up.
I will as soon as they stop punching you.
Hey, don't be a fool, Hodges. Stop it. Stop it, I say.
All right. All right, let go of me. Let go.
Oh, thanks, Mr. Lanyon. This man's a maniac.
Okay. But I'm warning you, Clinton. I'll see you again.
When you ain't got your friends around.
Well, personally, I don't know whether the girl was killed or not,
but if she was, our friend there, Hodges, will have a lot of explaining to do.
You mean you've got something on him, Mr. Clinton?
Well, when I was discussing the contest with Betty Larson a few days ago,
she told me that Hodges had warned her not to enter it.
It seems he was afraid that if she won, it might go to her head and she'd walk out on him.
As a matter of fact, he told her to stay away from here.
Well, there's going to be a coroner's inquest in the morning,
and I suggest that you tell this to the sheriff as soon as he returns.
Oh, why, tell that to the sheriff? Oh, no, no, I'd rather hate to do that.
You see, Lanyon, someone in my position, I can't afford to get involved.
After all, it's my business to report scandal and not get mixed up in it.
But look here, you...
I'll tell you what, give me a chance to think it over and I'll see you at the treasure hunt tonight.
Oh, dear. Two in the morning, Mr. Lanyon.
What a ghastly hour to go tramping over the ground.
Must we participate in this treasure hunt?
Of course, it's all a part of the weekend.
Come in.
Well, it's the witching hour, Mr. Lanyon.
Here's your envelope with the clues for the treasure hunt.
You'd better hurry. Everybody's ahead of you.
Thank you, Mr. Clinton. We'll catch up.
Fine. This ought to be very interesting, seeing the lone wolf stalking down his prey.
You know very well, Clinton.
Oh, sure, I forgot.
You're not the lone wolf anymore.
You're just nice, innocent Mr. Lanyon.
Well, good hunting. See you later.
Well, here you are, Jameson. This is our clue. Go ahead, read it.
Under the oak and under the cover, where I have met many a lover,
light a match and look deep down, find your clue and win your crown.
I say, isn't that lovely?
Can you decipher it?
Of course, sir. It means, well, it means, well...
Exactly, Jameson, the old well. That's where we'll find the next clue.
Come on, let's get going.
The well is down this path. It's right near the stables.
You mean when we get to the well, we find another clue?
That's right, and at the end is when we reach the treasure.
Oh, the treasure. I say, what is this treasure?
Jameson, it's unimportant what the treasure is. It might be a bag of jelly beans.
It all sounds very silly to me, sir. There's the well over there.
And look here. It's got a wooden cover on it.
Exactly like it said on the poem. Well, what do we do now?
Now, wait a minute. Oh, yes, under the cover.
Light a match and look deep down.
Here, I'll take this lid off and put it here.
Now, you light a match, Jameson.
Our second clue must be somewhere inside the well.
I'd heard, just a moment.
Ah, there's the clue we're looking for.
A piece of paper pinned on the wall inside the well with a big pin.
Oh, dash it all. Match went out. I'll light another one.
Oh, Jameson, hold it. Hold it. The inside of this well smells like gasoline.
Yes, it does. Yes, it does smell like it's full of...
Get away, Jameson. Blow that match out.
Oh, are you all right, Mr. Lanyard?
Yes, and no thanks to you.
Oh, I couldn't help it, sir. If you ask me, we walked right into a trap.
And quite obviously. Here, let me help you up.
Oh, thank you, sir. Oh, if I'd had any idea...
Ouch!
Well, now what's the matter?
Oh, I've been stabbed.
Well, let me see. Oh, steady, Jameson, I'll pull it out.
Oh, be careful, sir. Oh. Oh.
Oh! There we are.
And very interesting.
What is it, sir?
Oh, it's that big pin. You could have been hurt quite badly.
Well, if you ask me...
Come along, Jameson. We've got work to do.
And another thing, Mr. Barnes.
We don't mind playing this little treasure hunt game of yours,
but it's no fun when the prize is two bodies,
especially if they happen to be our two bodies.
Well, surely it was only an accident.
I wish I could believe that, Miss Waring.
But there's no rhyme, no reason for what's been happening.
If the accident at the well was another attempted murder,
then... well, then... then all our lives could be in danger.
Steady, Cynthia, darling.
I presume you have some idea of who the murderer might be, Mr. Lanyard.
You flatter me, Mr. Barnes.
I would think you had surely lined up one or two likely suspects, Mr. Lone Wolf.
Why don't you tell them about our friend Mr. Clinton, sir?
Oh, well, there are some mighty interesting aspects to that road company, Winchell.
He was meeting Betty Larson secretly. At least that's what Hodges says.
I can believe that. Clinton would stoop to anything.
I didn't want to have him around, but Cynthia felt that we should cater to him
for the sake of publicity for the Bazaar.
Hodges also insists that Clinton arrange for Miss Larson to enter the beauty contest,
and that Clinton promised her that she would win.
And there's the little incident at the well.
If you ask me, Clinton is in this thing right up to his, uh, his clues.
Help! Mr. Barnes! Somebody come out here! Hurry!
That sounds like Hodges.
He's right out there at the side of the house.
Well, come on. We can go through these French windows.
In here! In the bushes! You'd better hurry!
What is it, Hodges? What's wrong?
I don't know. Don't ask me. I don't know anything about it.
Great heavens! Look at Clinton!
I can't stand it! I can't stand it! What awful things are going on!
I don't know how it happened. I was just coming down the path.
They're in the bushes. He was lying right there.
He's done for, all right, Mr. Lanyon. Shot. Murdered.
Murdered? You did this, Hodges. You said you'd get even with Clinton.
Now you've done this.
I tell you, I don't know anything about it.
I was just walking down along the path. I don't know anything about it.
It's all right, Hodges. You'll have an opportunity to prove your innocence.
Don't you have some theory about all this, Mr. Lanyon?
And let's hope he doesn't.
There, there, Miss Waring. I think I can promise you at least that there won't be any more murders.
Hold the flashlight a little higher, Jameson. On the clock on the mantelpiece.
Yes, sir. Just as you say, sir.
But aren't we taking a bit of a risk, Mr. Lanyon?
Leaving the estate without checking with the sheriff?
Shh, quiet, Jameson. If I don't find what I'm looking for here in Clinton's apartment,
I'm afraid we'll have a lot of explaining to do.
I just assume we didn't go back.
There's been two murders already, and they say things come in threes.
Hmm. How interesting.
Jameson, why do you think I've got you flashing the light on that clock on the mantelpiece?
Well, sir, well, I'm a bit rusty. I think it might be safe to say.
Well, it would be safe.
Exactly, Jameson. You never fail the safe behind the clock on the mantelpiece.
I say I was right. Ingenious, eh, Miss Lanyon?
You have your moments. Well, it's a long time since I've operated in this fashion,
but we'll see, Jameson.
If you don't mind, sir, this is like old times.
I do mind, Jameson, but unfortunately, certain situations are born of necessity.
Then allow me to compliment you, sir. You haven't lost the old touch.
Well, I'm not so sure.
Ah, there we are.
Not much of a haul, if you ask me. Nothing but a stack of letters and a notebook.
Let's have a look. All that trouble just for a bundle of papers.
Just a waste of good time and talent.
There could have been a pound of butter or a gas coupon or a back-axe saw.
Oh, ha!
I say, what's so interesting?
Just the...
Did you find a clue to the murders?
Just the motive, Jameson. Just the motive.
Look here, you can't keep me here, Sheriff. All I did was find Clinton.
You can't hang a guy for that.
Keep your shirt on, Hodges. Nobody moves out of this room till Lanyard shows up.
If he doesn't come in five minutes, I'm going to put out a call and have him pulled in.
Seems to me that Mr. Lanyard has admitted his guilt by disappearing.
Well, whatever the case may be, I think you should allow me to go.
After all, this is my house and I do have guests.
They might think it rather strange if their host isn't around.
Look, Mr. Barnes, party or no party, there's been a couple of murders committed around this joint,
and everybody in this room is under suspicion.
Really, Sheriff, if you're going to keep us here and allow Mr. Lanyard to stay...
Good evening, Sheriff. Jameson, say good evening to the Sheriff.
He's been very patient, I hope.
Good evening, sir. I mean, Constable. I mean, Sheriff.
All right, you two, you'd better make it good.
Running away from the scene of the crime won't sit so well in court.
Please accept my apologies, Sheriff.
Well, now that you're here, Mr. Lanyard, perhaps we can clear up this nasty mess.
Yes, I presume you've been spending your time checking up on the murders, Mr. Lanyard.
That's right, and I've uncovered a few details which I'm sure will prove most interesting, Miss Waring.
You're wasting time, Lanyard.
Somebody in this room has been running around committing murders,
and I'm going to find out who it is or die trying.
Or die trying!
Who said that?
Oh, if it's all the same to you, Sheriff, I think I'll join the other guests.
Now, isn't that thoughtful of you?
Get away from that door before you tempt me to bring the murder score up to three!
Do as he says, Jamison, after all, you don't want to miss all the fun.
In just a minute, you're going to have the pleasure of meeting the murderer.
That's just what I'm afraid of, sir.
All right, Lanyard, let's have it.
Very well, Sheriff.
First, allow me to review events from the beginning.
Just as Jamison and I were leaving for Mr. Barnes' residence,
we received a rather unusual telephone message.
It was Betty Larson.
That was about 2 p.m., wouldn't you say, Jamison?
Five minutes after 2, to be exact, sir.
Thank you.
We arrived at Mr. Barnes' estate by 3.30.
At 5, Jamison and I went for a swim in the pool.
It was then we found Miss Larson.
At what time did the coroner examine her, Sheriff?
By around 7 in the evening.
But what difference does it make?
The poor girl had been dead for 10 hours.
All the difference in the world, my dear fellow.
Simple arithmetic will show you that it was impossible for Miss Larson to call me at 2 o'clock.
At 2 o'clock, she'd already been dead for five hours.
Hodges, you did it.
You paid someone to make that call.
You're crazy. I had nothing to do with it.
Wipe down, Hodges.
Go on, Lanyard.
Sheriff, what do you think was used to murder Miss Larson?
Well, I...
Could this have been the weapon?
The pin!
The pin, the one I fell on when the well exploded.
Yes, Jamison.
Let me paint a rather gruesome picture for you, Sheriff.
Miss Larson is called down to the edge of the swimming pool.
Someone who poses as a friend suggests that she try on a hat.
In trying it on, our murderer, pretending to assist, neatly jabs Miss Larson...
and thrusts the pin through the base of her brain.
Oh, how horrible.
Could I examine the pin, please?
Of course, Mr. Barnes.
Why? Why, it's a hat pin.
Well, Cynthia, it's the one you had in the large hat you wore in that beauty contest.
Cynthia, it was you!
All right, stand back, all of you!
The care, sister, you can't get away with it!
Shut up! And listen, all of you.
I assure you, I know how to handle this gun, and I'm not afraid to use it.
Cynthia, I...
Stand back, Hockerson!
I don't get you, Cynthia.
What earthly reason would you have for killing Betty?
She wanted to be your friend.
That's a laugh.
Listen, little boy blue, a telephone operator sometimes hears too much for her own good.
How do you think she got all those fine furs?
From some boyfriend?
No, she was too daft about you, so she decided to try her hand at blackmail.
Blackmail?
That's right.
Only she pushed me just a bit too far.
Why, you...
You, prune face!
Who? Who, me?
I don't mean your brother.
Open the door.
Go on, open it!
Yes, yes, ma'am.
Now stand back, all of you!
Very amusing picture.
That's right, Mr. Lanyard.
Step forward just a little.
I'd like to thank you for spoiling a most delightful weekend.
Here's a little something you'll remember me by!
Jameson!
Jameson, are you all right?
Yes, I... I think so, sir.
Oh, thank heaven.
Yeah, you did a good job, Jameson.
Not only saved Mr. Lanyard from getting caught, but when you fell against this door,
you also managed to not miss wearing colder than a doornail.
Oh, it was nothing, really?
And it's for you, sister.
Maybe these bracelets will keep you out of trouble.
Because when you come to, you're going to find yourself booked for murder.
Double murder, Sheriff.
Dig the bullet out of the wall over there, and you'll find it will match the one found in Clinton's body.
Well, what do you know?
Come on, Hodge, just give me a hand.
Okay, Sheriff.
I can't believe it.
Cynthia and I had so many plans together.
It's hard to believe that she could be responsible for those horrible murders.
I'm afraid she was.
Mr. Barnes, this is Mr. Clinton's notebook.
Several cancel checks and a few letters.
Look them over, and you'll discover that your dream girl, Miss Cynthia Waring, has quite a number of aliases,
and in certain circles has a reputation for landing the biggest fish in the pool.
Then, after she's collected enough money, she tosses them back.
You were her next victim, Mr. Barnes.
And as for the unfortunate Mr. Clinton, being a newspaper man and gossip columnist,
he ferreted out her little scheme and in turn was blackmailing Miss Waring.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, I guess that just about puts the cap on that story
of our little adventure at the estate of Rutherford Barnes.
Miss Cynthia Waring was a very shrewd and fast-thinking young lady.
She got one victim with a gun.
She almost got Jameson and me at the old well when the gasoline exploded,
all of which began with the first and most ingenious of the murders,
the particularly cold-blooded murder of Betty Larson with that hat pin.
And Jameson, of course, we have you to thank for having discovered that most important bit of evidence,
the pin itself.
Ah, yes, Miss Lanyon.
And I must say, I got quite a lift out of that myself when I discovered it.
Now, now, Jameson, remember your promise.
Suffice it to say, you discovered the pin the hard way, I admit.
Oh, yes, sir, there's no doubt about that.
The criminal would never have been stuck in the final analysis
if I hadn't sat down and got myself stuck.
That will be all, Jameson.
Good night, ladies and gentlemen.
And so closes Murder Goes for a Swim starring Warren William with Eric Bloor,
the first appearance of the lone wolf on the air, and tonight's tale of Suspense.
This is your narrator, the man in black who conveys to you Columbia's invitation
to spend this half hour in suspense with us again next week
when Laird Kriegar will star in the Suspense play,
The Last Letter of Dr. Bronson with a cast of four distinguished Hollywood players,
Helen Vinson, Harold Huber, Ian Wolfe, and Theodore von Else.
The producer of these broadcasts is William Speer, who with Robert Louis Shea
and the guest director Bernard Herrmann and Lucy Ann Marowick,
conductor and composer, collaborated on tonight's Suspense.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.