And now, tonight's presentation of radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Tonight, we bring you a transcribed story of a man who tries to lose himself.
So now, starring Parley Bear and Michael N. Barrett, here is tonight's Suspense play, A Case of Identity.
Harry, Harry answer me.
Well, I don't know, Edna.
You don't know what?
I don't know if it's such a good idea. It might not work.
Are you crazy? You think I'd plan something that wouldn't work? You think that?
No.
Well, then what is it?
Well, how are you so sure the insurance company will do it?
You try him, Harry. You try finding one that won't jump to insure your life for a hundred thousand dollars.
That's how it started. She brought it up at dinner, not all at once, but in little pieces, just enough to make me curious.
Then later, when she'd done everything she could to put me in a good mood, she told me all of it.
She'd gotten the idea weeks ago, but she didn't want to mention it until I started on my vacation, just in case anyone at the office noticed I was unusually nervous.
Oh yes, she'd planned it well. She made it sound easy, so I agreed to go along with it.
The next morning I applied for a life insurance policy, one that would pay Edna a hundred thousand dollars in the event of my death.
A week later, the manager of that insurance company called and asked me to stop by his office.
Well, Mr. Burton, it's a pleasure to meet you personally.
Thank you.
It is an often-were privilege to issue such a large policy.
And it has cleared.
Well, hasn't it? Haven't I answered enough questions, Mr. Croyd? Haven't you had enough doctors probing and poking at me?
Please, Mr. Burton, it isn't me. It's just that the home office seems to have some doubt about...
About what?
The amount of the policy. After all, a hundred thousand dollars to a man of your financial...
Well, frankly, Mr. Burton, are you sure you...
That I value my life that much? Well, I do. Is there anything wrong with that?
No, certainly not. It's just that...
Just what, Mr. Croyd?
Well, the premiums will be rather large.
I'm prepared to pay them.
You've read all the clauses thoroughly?
I have.
Including this paragraph?
Mr. Croyd, I have no intention of committing suicide.
I wasn't suggesting that you had, Mr. Burton.
I was merely endeavoring to acquaint you with the fact that such an eventuality would nullify our contract.
Mr. Croyd, if you'd rather not issue the policy, I'm sure there are other companies...
Not at all, Mr. Burton, not at all. It's just that caution is our byword. We find it pays in the long run.
Your company pays in the long run, Mr. Croyd. That's why people buy insurance.
Yes, well, I believe everything's in order if you'll just sign here.
Here you are.
All right, Mr. Burton, that's it.
Thank you.
Take care of yourself, Mr. Burton.
Half an hour after leaving his office, I walked into that park in the center of town.
I'd been spending a lot of time there, watching, waiting, feeding the pigeons.
Then I'd spotted the particular pigeon I'd been waiting for, with the same height, weight, same color eyes.
We could have been brothers, except that he was a mousy gray in the color of all stumblebums.
For three days now I'd been watching him, and I'd been waiting for him to come back.
He showed up every morning about 11. First he'd take a walk, looking for butts.
Then he'd plop on the grass and sleep. This morning I wasn't going to let him sleep.
Hi.
Nice day.
Yeah, smoggy.
Yes, it is. It gets your eyes.
Sure does. It isn't doing my head much good, neither.
Bad night?
You don't happen to have a drink on you, do you?
No, but here's a buck.
Hey, how come you give me a buck, mister?
I've got a job for you.
Job? Oh, I'm not looking for no job.
I've been sick, real bad sick. Oh, you don't know.
Well, there's not much work involved. I have a cabin up in the San Berdu Mountains that's kind of run down.
I need somebody to help me fix it up.
Oh, no, no, no.
That sounds like heavy work. My doctor said...
I'll do the heavy work. Okay?
It'll mean 50 bucks to you. How about it?
50?
Half now and half when the job's finished.
Well, as long as there's no heavy work, then when do we go?
Right now?
Now.
Sure, anything wrong with that?
Do you have a business appointment?
Well, now you don't have to get sassy.
Okay, we go as soon as I get that 25.
Your?
Oh, just one thing more.
What's that?
About that drink, I could sure use it.
You'll get it.
I bought him a 49 cent bottle of wine, which he opened the other day.
Then he insisted I drive him around to a flop house so he could pay a week's rent.
Finally, we turned onto the freeway and headed for home.
Harry?
Yep?
You're late. Why didn't you call? I'm...
I was busy getting this.
Getting this.
You got the policy. Oh, Harry, I was so worried.
Never mind that now. I've got him in the car.
What?
He's in the car.
Now? Here?
It's all right. The car's in the garage. He's drunk and nobody saw us.
So we can't keep him here.
I know.
You mean do it tonight? Oh, no, Harry, not tonight.
Why not?
Because it's too soon. They're bound to be suspicious.
They'll be just as suspicious six weeks or six months from now. Maybe more.
We do it tonight, they'll believe it.
They'll figure nobody in their right minds would pull something the day after the policy was issued.
All right. I'll be on the side road. The cutoff I showed you, remember?
I remember.
I'll be there in the coupe at one o'clock. I won't turn on the light.
Okay, I'll find you.
Harry?
Yeah?
Who is he? What's he like?
His name's Wallace. He's a bum, a stew bum.
We'll be doing him a favor.
I backed the car out of the garage, careful that no one saw me.
Then we started. My traveling companion wasn't feeling any pain.
He polished off his bottle and passed out.
No sign of anyone on that mountain highway, no houses, no cars.
Not until I reached the 4,000 foot level where there was a little run-down gas station.
At 12.30 we reached the Capitol.
I parked on the slope, pulled the emergency brake tight,
and then reached over into the back seat for the jackhammer.
Oh, God.
I switched clothes with him.
My keys, watch, wallet, everything but my matches.
Then I saturated the upholstery with gasoline, left the can in the back seat, and got out.
Move over. I'll drive.
I saw it. It was beautiful.
Yeah.
A real fire alarm.
There's blood on your coat. It's a hit-coat.
It's all right. I'm a drunk. I've been drinking.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
Light the cigarette.
Harry.
Did you leave the car in here?
No.
You forgot.
Take it easy, will you? I didn't forget.
They'll figure I was sitting there drinking.
I'll sleep with the brakes left. It'll be all right.
When, when do you think I'll find him?
Tomorrow. The next day?
Now, when the police come, you know what to do.
They'll ask a lot of questions, but don't lose your nerve and don't.
Go.
What's wrong?
I don't know.
The motor is missing.
Shut up!
Oh, shut up!
Well, Harry, do something!
Please, do something!
If they find us here, like this...
Shut up!
Oh, you stupid...
You fool!
You stupid, ignorant fool!
Why didn't you notice?
Notice what?
I mean, what did you notice?
The motor's gone.
You fool! You stupid, ignorant fool!
Why didn't you notice?
Notice what?
We're out of gas.
What?
Oh, never mind.
We've still got a chance.
There's a gas station a couple of miles from here.
I'm going to try to coast down to it.
What if somebody thinks it's a day?
They won't.
Get in the back on the floor.
Hurry up.
For heaven's sake, don't argue.
Get in the back.
Put that blanket over you and don't move.
Their lights are out, but somebody's got to be inside.
All right, all right.
Heard you the second time.
What do you want?
Ten gallons of gas.
Sorry.
Close at 11.
Pump's locked.
Now, wait a minute.
I've got to have some gas.
Do you understand?
Sure, I understand, but I ain't giving you none.
You're not giving...
Now, you listen to me.
You listen, mister.
I don't like your order and ways.
Coming down here like high and mighty, blowing your horn like it was Judgment Day.
Now, you better get...
What do you mean by that?
Just what I said.
Keep coasting, brother.
Now...
Now, wait a minute.
I...
Look, I'm sorry.
I've been on the road all day.
I'm jumpy.
You know how it is.
Now, suppose I really make it worth your while.
Pay your double for some gas.
Now, how'd that be?
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
You're all like your kind, ain't you?
Always figuring everybody's got a price.
Well, your money ain't going to cut no ice with me.
Now, you go on before I get my shotgun.
Okay.
Okay.
I don't want any trouble, only I thought maybe you'd be interested in $20.
Huh?
How much?
$20.
For just 10 gallons of gas?
That's right.
Well, I reckon you do want to get home.
That's a little regular.
Anything, only hurry.
She stopped the car a couple of blocks from Skid Row.
I got out and disappeared.
The torn suit, bloodshot eyes, and my beard put me in that mousy gray color.
A few hours later, I was just another stumble bum.
Three days went by before they found the body.
Naturally, the newspapers played it up big, real big, with a picture of me and an obituary
half a column long.
There was also a picture of Edna, the grief-stricken wife, taken right after she'd identified my body.
I turned the page and kept on reading it, and then I saw it.
Only a small paragraph, but it said my widow would receive her $100,000 immediately.
Hello, Edna.
Harry.
Did I frighten you?
I'm sorry.
What are you doing here?
How did you get in?
You still leave that key under the back door mat.
How many times have I told you about that?
You shouldn't have come here.
Why didn't you call?
I did.
All day, and no answer.
What if they're watching the house?
Why should they?
The police are satisfied that I'm dead.
You've got the insurance.
How'd the company take it?
I think they were scared.
They were scared.
They were scared.
They were scared.
They were scared.
They were scared.
How'd the company take it?
I think they were suspicious.
They asked me an awful lot of questions.
Yeah, they figured to.
But they could hardly go against the peace findings of death by misadventure.
I don't want to talk about it anymore, Harry.
No, you're right.
It's all over.
We've got the money now.
I've got the money.
What?
And I'm going to keep it.
Edna, you're not making sense.
I'm not?
Well, let me clarify the situation for you.
I've got $100,000, and you're dead.
You're very, very dead.
Are you?
You had this idea all along.
Right from the very beginning, you never had any intention of sharing that money.
And you made me kill a man.
Stay right where you are, Harry.
You take one more step, and I'll scream, and you know how loud I can scream.
Well, go ahead.
Remember, you lost your identity.
I'll say you're a prowler.
You broke in.
And I'll spill the whole works.
Including how you killed a man?
No, I don't think you will.
Will you, Harry?
You're smart, Edna.
You're smarter than I ever gave you credit for.
She'd always been the strong one, the aggressor, always gotten her way up to now.
That evening, after making sure she'd been picked up by her cousin to go to a movie, as I usually did on Wednesdays, I entered the house again.
I'd attended a sales convention the month before, and while I was away, I'd written her twice.
Those letters were still in the desk.
As quickly as I could, I lifted the old letters from their envelopes and replaced them with new ones.
Some I'd written that afternoon, and one of them I said, darling, I can't understand why you insist I take out such a large insurance policy.
If I didn't know you better, I might think you were planning to murder me.
Then I put the envelopes back in the desk and went into our bedroom.
The keys to her coop were on the dresser.
I put them in my pocket, picked up one of her shoes, and started for the mountains.
I was so happy to see her.
I was so happy to see her.
I put them in my pocket, picked up one of her shoes, and started for the mountains.
I reached the cabin about midnight, broke the heel from her shoe, tossed it into the ravine.
Then I spattered mud on the shoe and put it back in the car.
When I reached Ponddale, I made a long-distance phone call.
Johnson, homicide.
Hello, I've been reading about that Burton case in my newspaper,
and I thought maybe I should tell someone that I was driving over Crestline the night it happened.
Who's calling, please?
I saw this car parked by a cabin. There was a man and a woman in it.
Who is this?
And they seem to be arguing.
Arguing?
That's right.
You remember what time it was?
Oh, just after midnight, maybe 12.30.
I see. Could I have your name now, please?
Well, I'm a family man. I wouldn't like to get involved.
But, sir, it's very...
It was the next afternoon before I could get back in the house.
But when I did, I took that mud-spattered shoe with me and planted it in her closet.
I was about to look in her dresser where she usually kept her cash when I heard Edna had come in.
Mrs. Burton?
Yes?
Sergeant Johnson, homicide department. May I come in?
Why, yes, certainly.
Thank you. Sorry to bother you again, Mrs. Burton, but something has come up.
Yes?
You stated at the inquest that you were home the night of your husband's death.
I was.
Can you furnish proof to that effect?
I suppose so, but I really don't know how at the moment. I told you everything before.
Some additional information has come to our attention. We'd like your help in clearing it up.
Well, naturally, I'm always ready to cooperate with the police.
Well, fine. Then you'll answer my questions, won't you?
Did anyone see you here that evening? Can you furnish any proof at all?
I'm afraid I'll have to have you come along with us, Mrs. Burton.
But why? I haven't done it.
I'm sorry.
It's utterly ridiculous.
It's necessary, Mrs. Burton. I'll be well, please.
Oh, all right. Let's get it over with.
Oh, Mrs. Burton, before we leave your house, do you recognize this?
What is it?
The heel of a shoe. We found it at the scene of the accident. Could it possibly have broken off one of yours?
No.
You're positive?
Quite positive.
Very well.
Oh, leave the door open, please. My partner and a policewoman are waiting outside. They have a warrant to search your house.
The police were going to search the house while I was there. That was almost funny. I was going to be caught in my own crap.
For a moment I panicked, and I realized the search team hadn't entered the house.
As quickly as I could, I moved back to her bedroom.
I was at the window forcing it open when I heard them, and then I was out, ducking low, running along the side of the house until I reached the street.
It wasn't until I reached Edmonds Coupe two blocks away that I remembered I hadn't taken any money from the dresser.
I was broke now, nowhere to go, nowhere to sleep, except in the car I was.
I parked on the boulevard a couple of hours and watched the people walking by.
And later while driving around looking for a place to park for the night, a place where I could sleep, I turned on the car radio.
...the $100,000 insurance case of Elaine Kerry W. Burton.
Police have uncovered evidence which they say links Mrs. Edna Burton to her husband's death.
The widow, when confronted with letters written by her husband and a broken shoe identified as hers turned up in a recent search, became hysterical.
Burton had a fantastic story about her husband still being alive.
Authorities discrediting the rankings of the troubled woman have requested her transfer to the psychiatric division of the General Hospital for examination.
You will recall her husband's car crashed into a ravine near the Angeles Crest Highway.
Police at the time thought the death of Mr. Burton was accidental.
Meanwhile, police have issued an all-point bulletin for the car, alleged to have been used in the murder plot.
The car is described as a black Ford Coupe. License number JGC150. It's believed.
I've got to get rid of this car. I've got to before it's spotted before I sleep. No money yet.
Wait a minute. Wait a minute. I've got a key to a hotel room, sure.
Wallace's room and he paid a week's rent in advance. Sure, if I'm lucky. I've got a chance. I have much choice.
Hey. Hey, where you going?
Oh, to my room. I live here. You see, here's the key, number 47.
What's your name?
Wallace. Don't you remember?
No, I'm just a relief clerk.
Oh, well, I've been sick a few days. I haven't been in so I owe you any money. I'll pay it tomorrow.
You don't owe nothing.
I don't?
No. Good night.
All right, Wallace, reach.
What is this?
Come in all the way. That's it.
We've been waiting for you, Wallace. My name's Johnson Homicide. This is my partner, Sergeant Barton.
He's clean.
Well, what do you want with me?
We'll ask the questions, Wallace. Last Tuesday you showed up here with enough money to pay your rent a month in advance.
A month?
Don't tell us you did some honest work, Wallace. You got a fine record. Don't ruin it by admitting you actually did some work.
But I did. It was only $25. Can't a man make a little money?
Sure, sure he can. Only this happened last Tuesday. And last Tuesday afternoon you came bouncing in bragging about how lucky you were.
You paid a month's rent in advance and said there'd be plenty more where that came from.
Your drinking buddies told some of our boys about it. They were worried when you didn't come back.
Thought maybe something had happened to you on that job up in Crestline. You did this work up in Crestline last Tuesday night, didn't you?
No, no. No, I didn't.
Try again, Wallace. You can try all night. You're not going to beat this one.
We got a description from a gas station attendant up there. Fits you to a T.
But you've got the wrong man, believe me.
Oh, sure, Wallace. Well, he's not satisfied, Johnny. Give him some more.
Okay. A woman you don't know, a woman called Edna Burton.
The day just before she blew her stack she was yelling your name like crazy.
All about a flaming rocket or was it a fireball?
Whatever it was, you were the star of it, Wallace.
But I am not Wallace. I'm Burton. Ask Edna. Ask her.
You can't. At least not till she's allowed to have visitors at the state hospital.
Okay. Let's go, buddy.
No, wait. Wait, wait, please. I'll tell you the truth.
You're arresting me for my own murder. I'm Burton.
That's so. But you're Burton. Where's Wallace?
Where's... Where's...
Well, he thinks it's funny, Johnny.
Yeah. Wine sure does some crazy things for you.
It is funny. It's funny.
Don't you see? It doesn't matter whether it's Burton
and Wallace.
It doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter at all.
Suspense.
In which Parley Baer and Michael Ann Barrett start tonight's presentation of a case of identity.