Suspense! Mr. Brian Dunleavy, a star of Out of Control, a suspense play produced, edited, and directed by William Spear.
I arrived in Gatlinburg around 10 in the morning. I checked in at a hotel called the Mountain Inn, went downstairs to breakfast.
My dog Schnucki went with me, as she always does. I gave my order to the waiter, and as I sat there, I looked the place over.
It was a good-sized room, by the echo in it. There was a log fire crackling in a fireplace on the far side of the room, and a large view window on my right.
Glass has a special kind of echo. There was only one person in the room when I entered. It was a woman, apparently a wealthy and rather vain woman, judging from her perfume.
She was sitting at a table diagonally across from me. I looked in her direction, so to speak. I heard a man's footsteps approaching across the room, and smelled fresh polish on riding boots as he went past me.
He paused before her table.
Well, if it isn't Mrs. Dennis Fillmore. Hello, Marsha.
Walter Crane.
Are you surprised to see me?
What do you want?
I hear your husband is thinking of running for governor.
So what?
Well, Marsha, I've got a newspaper clipping here. I thought it might interest him. It's about your pal, the late Eddie Hasson.
What about Eddie?
I'll read you their headline.
Eddie Hasson killed in auto crash. Colorful Reno figure plunges from Mountain Road. Car out of control, say police.
Dennis, never knew you.
I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I never mean to. But as some people can read what's on the marquee of a movie theater ten blocks away, the most intimate conduct and conversation comes to me from across the room as it's spoken into a microphone.
This is a dubious pleasure for me at most times, but as Marsha Fillmore and Walter Crane continued, my interest became more than casual. He was reading again from the newspaper clipping.
And here at the bottom of the article, Marsha Hanley, hostess at the Blue Parrot Hasson's gambling club, is beneficiary of an insurance policy.
Miss Hanley was the late Mr. Hasson's companion and was to have been married to him upon his divorce decree becoming quinal.
Well?
I was just wondering if your brand new politically minded husband would be interested in the fact that you were known locally as a gangster's companion.
You always were a louse, Walter, but I never thought you'd stoop to blackmail.
Look, I lost a good job because of you, Marsha. When an insurance investigator gets fired because his employers think he's too susceptible to beautiful dames, he never gets back on the racket.
I've got to look elsewhere for a source of income. And it so happens there are some things about Eddie Hasson's accident that might interest my former employees.
Eddie's car got out of control and that's all there is to it.
Look, you seem to forget, baby, I investigated that case for Pacific All-Risk before they paid off.
And I didn't tell all the things I knew or all the things I thought because, well, you were making life very interesting for me in those days.
Well, Marsha?
You're wasting your time, Walter.
Am I?
Get out and take your clipping with you.
Well, you can't blame a man for trying. Oh, waiter?
Yes, sir?
Bring me a glass of water, will you? Ice water.
What, something wrong, ma'am?
No, nothing's wrong.
Get the water.
Yes, sir. Right away.
Why did you do that?
What?
Nothing, skip it.
Oh, the ice water? I'm thirsty, that's all.
You're sure that's all?
What else would I want with ice water?
Forget it. Look, Walter, I'll sell Dennis on the idea of investing some money in a company of yours.
Well, now that's more like it. When's he coming up here?
Tomorrow. But you mustn't see him till I've had a chance to talk to him.
Get out of town right away tonight.
Well, where will I go?
I have a fishing lodge up in the mountains. I'll give you the key to the place.
You go up there and stay till I've sold Dennis on the idea. When the time's right, I'll come and get you.
I'll cut you in on the deal if you sound good enough.
Women do things sometimes, Walter, that they don't want to be paid for.
Lonesome women, maybe?
Maybe.
Marsha, you're still the most beautiful woman that ever let a man up a garden path.
Let's drink to that, Walter.
In ice water?
In ice water.
The man who had come to blackmail Marsha Fillmore remained to whisper sweet nothings in her ear.
It didn't make sense at first, but then I remembered.
I had been told that she was a very beautiful woman. Beautiful to look at, that is.
There are times when I am profoundly grateful that I have no eyes to deceive me.
It must have been shortly after midnight that I heard it.
I awoke with a start and sat up in bed.
Although I have been blind for many years, I still reach out automatically for the light switch when I am awakened in the night.
When the light went on, the sound stopped.
I turned it off and waited.
Quiet, schnooki, quiet.
It started again.
It seemed to be below my window somewhere down by the garage, hotel garage.
Through the years, I have finally trained myself to identify almost any action by sound.
But this one stumped me at first.
It continued for perhaps ten seconds longer and then it stopped for good and the car door slammed.
I made a careful mental note of the car's motor as it started up.
It was a packer, then. One of the spark plugs was missing fire.
But it got underway fast and was soon out of even my earshot.
Of one thing, I was certain. It turned off the main road onto gravel.
There was only one such turnoff within earshot of the hotel, the private road to the Fillmore's Fishing Lodge.
Evidently, Mr. Walter Crane was going to have a visitor up there sooner than he had expected.
As I dropped off to sleep, the memory of that sound came back to me.
There was something strange and altogether sinister about it.
It was still ringing in my head when I dropped off to sleep.
I was awakened early by an insistent rapping on the door of my room.
Quiet, Stucky! Just a moment!
I fumbled about, found my robe, and put it on.
Captain McClane?
I'm Duncan McClane.
May I come in for a moment?
Of course.
I do hope you'll forgive me for bursting in here like this, but I saw you in the dining room yesterday morning and when I heard who you were, I hope you won't be angry with me.
Why, not at all.
Past my getting up time anyway, it must have been the mountain air that made me oversleep. Won't you sit down?
Thank you.
Cigarette?
Yes, thanks.
Here, I've got it.
You know, you're really amazing. One would never suspect that you're...
Blind?
Well, Mrs. Fillmore, we blind people can compensate to a certain extent by developing other senses more acutely.
You know my name.
I took the liberty of asking the head waiter last night who the lady was with the intoxicating perfume.
Just as I asked who the man was with the police dog.
Oh no, Snooki here is not a police dog. She's just an amiable old German shepherd.
I have a police dog, though. Dressed.
I only take him along when I'm on especially dangerous assignments.
Oh, I gather you're not on one now.
Shall we get to the point, Mrs. Fillmore?
Oh, well... well, there's a man staying here in this hotel, or rather he was.
His name is Walter Crane. He's a blackmailer.
Yes?
Well, there's no need going into it, but he's got hold of something about my past.
If it were published, it would ruin my husband's career.
There's only one thing to do with a blackmailer, Mrs. Fillmore. Turn him over to the police.
Oh, no, you don't understand. The police here is Sheriff Blackmer. He and my husband are political enemies.
I'm afraid it would be too good an opportunity for him to pass up.
Yes, I see your point.
My... my first instinct was to get Walter Crane away from here.
I told him to go up to our fishing lodge. I even gave him the key.
I even pretended to renew an old interest which he once fancied I had in him personally.
Always a mistake.
Oh, but you don't know the worst of it. My husband came in from Knoxville early this morning,
and without even waking, he went straight on up to the fishing lodge.
He left a note asking me to join him up there.
My husband is a violent and unreasonable man when he's angry.
Captain McClain, if he finds Walter Crane staying there in the lodge, he's likely to think that...
Just what are you afraid of, Mrs. Fillmore?
I'm afraid my husband... Heaven forgive me for such a thought.
I'm afraid my husband will murder him.
There. Now I've said it.
Yes. Now you've said it. Excuse me.
Yes? Oh, Mrs. Fillmore, yes. She's right here. It's for you, Mrs. Fillmore.
Oh, no. Don't go. I'm afraid it... Hello?
Yes. Sheriff Blackmer?
Oh, how dreadful.
Oh, I know we didn't know him. I... I did speak to him for a moment yesterday evening, but I...
Of course I'd be glad to help you in any way I can. I'll... I'll be in my cottage.
What is it?
I found him. His... his car plunged over the embankment.
He was killed instantly. When?
Some people in the cottage down below saw it happen. When?
Just five minutes ago.
On the way over to her cottage, I stopped at the hotel desk and sent a wire to the Seeing Eye Kennel in New Jersey.
Send Dresd Air Express immediately.
Dresd is my police dog. The dog I use only on very dangerous missions.
Sheriff Blackmer was a big, professionally cheerful man, but I could tell from his voice that he was plenty worried.
Glad to have you in on this, Captain McClain. We don't have many cases of this kind in these parts.
I'll be glad to do what I can, Sheriff Blackmer.
Oh, so this is one of them there Seeing Eye critters. Don't look no different from any other pooch to me.
Nice poochie.
I thought those Seeing Eye dogs were trained to be gentle.
I trained this one myself for a special job.
What kind of job?
Don't bother to explain. I think I know the answer to that one.
Well, now let's get down to business. Mrs. Fillmore.
Yes, I suppose you want some information about that road up to the fishing lodge. It's quite steep and hard to negotiate if you don't know it.
I know the road very well, Mrs. Fillmore.
Well, then what are you...
You said you didn't know this man, Walter Crane.
Sheriff, I was very foolish when I spoke to you on the phone.
As a matter of fact, he's a very old friend of mine, or was.
I think you'll understand when I tell you my husband was very jealous.
Jealous enough to have killed him?
Killed him? I thought he died in an auto crash.
He was murdered and thrown into the car just before it crashed. He died with an ice pick through his heart.
Whatever she knew, she wasn't telling. That part of it came to her as a complete surprise.
I know that now, and I knew it at the time.
Whatever Marcia Fillmore had known about Walter Crane's death, she was innocent of stabbing him through the heart with that ice pick.
As for the rest of it, her alibi was perfect. I was her alibi this time.
She was in my room when it happened, 20 miles from the scene of the crime.
But someone had driven up to that lodge before Dennis Fillmore, someone who had made elaborate preparations for that little drive.
As I walked over to the hotel garage, the memory of that sound came back to me.
The sound that I was convinced held the key to the mystery of Walter Crane's death, and Eddie Hassen's as well.
I found a mechanic working on a car.
Morning, sir. Hi, looking for your car?
No, I don't drive.
Oh. Mrs. Fillmore asked me to stop by. Is her car ready yet?
Yeah, sure. It was only one of the spark plugs.
This the car?
Yeah.
Station wagon. Packard, isn't it?
Ah, you've got a good sense of touch, mister.
Thank you. Hey, that's nice upholstered. Real leather, isn't it?
Yep.
Hey, that's peculiar.
What is?
The floor is wet and cold.
Oh, maybe they went fishing this morning. They carry a chunk of ice sometimes when they go trout fishing.
Ice? Of course. That's what it was. Ice.
Captain McClane, you must believe me. I know that my husband didn't do this terrible thing.
Then why did you come to me this morning and tell me you were afraid your husband would murder Crane?
Oh, don't you understand why I needed help?
I knew you only work on murder cases, so I tried to get you interested by making that story up.
I think I can save your husband, Marcia, but only if you tell me the absolute truth.
Oh, I will. I swear I will.
Did you go up there to that cabin last night to see Walter Crane?
No.
Lie number one. You drove up there around 12.30.
How did you know?
I heard a car drive out about that time. It was a Packard with one dead spark plug.
This morning your Packard was in the garage getting a spark plug replaced.
You don't know I went up there.
I heard you turned off on a gravel road about halfway up the mountain. Your road is the only one up that way.
All right. All right, I did go up there. But I wasn't there when it happened.
Marcia, have you ever seen this bottle before?
Certainly. It had verlin in it, sleeping medicine. It's a prescription of my husband's.
Have you any idea how it got in Crane's car?
I gave it to him. He said he couldn't sleep.
How did you give it to him?
In the bottle, of course. Are you intimating that I drugged him?
I'm only trying to find out what Crane did the last few hours of his life.
If he took an overdose of sleeping medicine, it might account for the accident.
He might have got up this morning still woozy from the effects of the drug, got in his car,
released the emergency brake and blacked out for a split second as sometimes happens in the reaction to an overdose of sleeping medicine,
lost control of the car and crashed over the embankment. It might have been as easy as that.
But that wouldn't account for the ice pick through his heart.
No. Not unless...
You took a chunk of ice up there last night, didn't you?
I don't know how you knew... Well, yes, he needed some, especially if he was going to do some trout fishing
and Walter was very fond of ice water.
Yes, I know. He ordered some last night at dinner.
Is there anything you don't see with those sightless eyes of yours?
I still don't see the murderer of Walter Crane.
I thought for a moment there you suspected me.
You were perfectly capable of it. You had the motor, you had the ice pick, but you weren't there when it happened.
No. They can't prove that Dennis was, can they?
Well, he's a pretty likely candidate, isn't he, Marcia?
Oh, I'm so worried about him. They have a posse out for him. Where will he go, I wonder?
I wonder.
I knew where he'd go, and so did she, and they both knew that matters would have to come to a head that night.
I didn't tell Sheriff Blackmer everything, but he agreed to drive me up there.
About 20 minutes after the sheriff left, a man came into the lodge.
From the storeroom where I was hidden, I could hear perfectly.
He didn't turn on any lights, but went out to the kitchen and started some coffee.
It could only have been Dennis Fillmore who paced up and down in that darkened room.
Then I heard the door open and a woman's footsteps coming in.
Dennis!
Marcia!
Dennis!
You shouldn't have come here. What are you trying to do, lead them to me?
I didn't tell the sheriff about you, Dennis. I swear I didn't.
Tell him what?
Dennis, I know you killed Crane.
So you know I'm a murderer. Then what are you doing here?
Oh, Dennis, I love you so much. I hated that man. I'm glad you killed him.
What was Crane to you?
I was going to tell you, darling. I used to know him. He's a blackmailer.
It was perfectly innocent before I met you, but with your career and I...
I didn't want you to get mixed up in it. That's why I told you to hide.
Oh, I'm sorry, Marcia. Don't cry.
Oh, I love you, Dennis.
I made some coffee. Would you like some of it?
Yes. You sit. You sit still, darling. I'll get it.
Dennis, what are we going to do? Have you thought about it?
I'm thinking as hard as I can, Marcia.
You can't confess to this terrible thing, Dennis. I just won't let you.
I don't think the insurance company would pay if I were electrocuted, would they?
Oh, Dennis, don't say such things. Here, drink your coffee.
It tastes rough, but it's hot. What's the matter with you?
I just feel faint. I can't seem to get my breath. It's stuffy in here.
It must be the wood smoke. I had trouble starting the fire.
Come along outside. The air will block you out.
All right.
Yes, there. That is better.
Would you like to take a drive somewhere?
No, Dennis. Let's just sit in the car for a while. It's a very good idea.
All right.
They sat there in the car perhaps ten minutes before the car door slammed shut.
And then I heard it. The sound that had been ringing in my ears since that first night.
But now I was hearing the real thing for a second time.
As calmly as the neighborhood ice man chipping out a fifty pound chunk for a housewife,
the murderer was making preparations for a third experiment in a method of almost perfect crime.
Hello, Marcia.
You. How did you get here?
I'm afraid I was eavesdropping.
Then you heard what Dennis said.
Yes, I did, Marcia.
Oh, Captain McCrane, would you? Could you forget what Dennis said?
Crane was a blackmailer. What does it matter who killed?
Don't come any closer, Marcia. This dog isn't Schnucki. This is Dreist.
The dog I told you about, remember?
The one you take on dangerous missions? You're frightening me, Captain.
You've terrified me for two whole days, Marcia.
You're the most perfect killer I've ever met.
You said yourself I couldn't have stabbed Walter Crane.
Eddie Hasson wasn't stabbed.
You're bluffing. You can't prove a thing.
No. That's the beauty of your method. The ice melts away before the accident happens.
Ice?
That's your method, Marcia.
First the victim is drugged with an overdose of sleeping medicine,
then lured into the car and kept there till he falls asleep.
The rest is simple. Put ice wedges under the front wheels and release the emergency brake.
When the wedges melt away, the car rolls over the embankment with the sleeping man in it.
You're miles away from the scene and the evidence has vanished.
Literally melted away. Only this time it's not going to work.
What are you going to do?
Phone Sheriff Blackmer. I want him to get here before that ice melts.
Captain Crane.
Stay where you are, Marcia. It would be a shame to have Dreist mutilate your beauty.
Your beauty is your most powerful weapon, you know.
I only hope it won't free you and turn you loose to start killing again.
You. What do you know about a woman's beauty? You blind woman.
Marcia, stay back. I warn you. This dog is a killer.
I'll kill you and that mongrel with me. I've hated you from the moment I first saw you.
What kind of a man is it that looks at a woman with those cold, dead eyes?
You'd be better off dead. I'm doing you a favor.
She's dead, all right.
I'm sorry. The dog, I guess I'll have to have him put away.
That won't be necessary, Captain. She did that for you.
Jabbed the ice pick square between his eyes.
Poor fellow.
I can't figure out how did she manage to stab Crane and still keep her alibi.
She didn't stab Crane.
Then who did?
Nobody.
Then how?
It was a freak accident. The ice pick was on the seat of the car when it crashed.
I knew that when you told me the angle at which it entered the body.
That's why I kept insisting that Marcia hadn't stabbed him.
That and the fact that the stabbing was so obviously news to her.
She really thought her husband had done it.
After she left Crane asleep in the car.
So much so that she even accused him of doing it.
By the way, is he all right?
Oh sure, just a little dopy from the sleeping pills.
I guess he's really broken up about her.
He really loved her, the sap.
I can't blame her though. She really was a beautiful woman.
When she looked at you with those big blue eyes of hers,
you could believe anything she wanted you to believe.
So they told me.
Yes, Sheriff. Sometimes I'm very glad I have no eyes to deceive me.
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