Philo Vance: The Poetic Murder Case 08/24/1948

Welcome to Choice Classic Radio, where we bring to you the greatest old-time radio shows. Like us on Facebook, subscribe to us on YouTube, and thank you for donating at choiceclassicradio.com. Sergeant Heath, I tell you this is ridiculous. Two men murdered, murdered in the same way, and apparently by the same person, and you say you haven't even a single clue. What kind of a homicide department is this? It's a good one, Commissioner. Just give me a little time. These murders were only committed in the past 12 hours. But the victims were newspaper men, Heath. Do you understand? Newspaper men. The papers they worked on will needless for days if we don't get results. I want fast work on this. Do you hear me? Fast work and no alibis. We're working on it, Commissioner. And the dead men weren't really newspaper men. They were critics. Dramatic critics. Same thing. Somebody's making a joke out of this department, killing two dramatic critics and leaving poetry pinned to their chests with a knife. Let's see those poems. Let's see them. Here's the one we found on the first body, Commissioner, the body of Robert Carnes. But it's no clue. Believe me, it's no clue. He was the leading critic. He always would insist. And that's the reason that I placed him first on my list. It's going to be an epidemic. That's what it's going to be. Give me the second poem, the one you found on Roger Dakin's body. Yes, sir. Here you are. It's a first-rate critic. You did rate high, and the first-rate critic is the second to die. Oh, take it. Take it, Heath. Take both of these poems and get me the man who wrote them. And get him fast before he murders every critic in the city. Are you busy, Mr. Markham? Very busy, I mean. The district attorney is never too busy to talk to the homicide department chief. What is it, Heath? Well, it's a commissioner. He's writing me on those critic murders. I can't do miracles. I've checked every clue. There's nothing I've found that's any good to me. Try and tell him that, though. Hmm. Did you ever think of this mode of Heath? What's that? There was a new play opened at the Rex Theater last night. Perhaps both of the critics were going to print bad notices. Perhaps somebody didn't want those. You can stop right there, D.A. I checked that the first thing. The notices both critics wrote were great. Hmm. I'm stumped, D.A. I don't even know where to look for a killer. I see. And you think that perhaps I might know someone? You mean Philo Vance? Now, listen, D.A., I don't want Vance in on this case. He's all I need for me to run for the case. I don't know what I need for me to really blow my top. Well, in that case, I won't call him. I thought for a moment that you might have been hinting that I do, but as long as you feel so strongly, why I wouldn't think of it. Oh, what's the use? Call him, D.A., get him to go to work. That's the reason I came up to see him the first place. Really? Poetry and murder, what a combination. Maybe Vance can figure out what it all means. That's the story of Vance, all of it. Definitely interesting, isn't it? I suppose so. Let me see now. The first murdered critic was Robert Karnes. Karnes, Karnes. Isn't he the one that married Edna Bolli, the dancer? Some years ago, I believe Vance. Yes, he was. Wasn't she being sponsored before her marriage by Mike Wilcox, the Racket King? Mike did have an interest in her. But he's hardly the poetry type, Vance. Don't forget those poems pinned to the chests of the two victims. I haven't forgotten them. Markham, there's a wonderful art exhibit at the Madison Galleries this afternoon. I was going to take Ellen and visit there. The matter is that she's the one who's going to be the first to be married. I'm going to see the first of the wonderful art exhibit at the Madison Galleries this afternoon. I was going to take Ellen and visit there. The Madison Gallery visit will be postponed because of my visit here? Precisely. I've changed from the Madison to the Rogues Gallery. Markham, I'm going to see our friend Mike Wilcox. My maid said you wanted to speak to me. Yes, lady. I'm Longfellow. I work for Mike Wilcox. He wants to see you. Mike sent you here? Why? Look, I don't ask the boss questions. I'm glad he got a job. Who else would hire a guy like me? Five foot nothing on my tiptoes. And they call you Longfellow? Robert Quaint, isn't it? Yeah, that's everybody's idea of a gag. Are we ready to go, lady? Yes, but I don't see what Mike can want with me. After all, my husband has just been killed. It wouldn't do either of us any good if I was seen with Mike. Lady, I don't know nothing about that. Mike says to bring you down, I'm going to bring you down. That's my way of keeping my job. Yeah, and my health. If I move here, he'll jump me. He'll get into my king row. And I'm a dead Joe. But if I move in this square, he can't do nothing. So I move in this square. Yeah? Who is it? Hello, Mr. Wilcox. I'm Fylo Vance. I'm the king of the king. I'm the king of the king. Hello, Mr. Wilcox. I'm Fylo Vance. Hi, Vance. You play checkers? Yes, but I have no desire to play at the moment. Well, no playing checkers with yourself, eh? That's a new one. Who's winning? Me. I always win. Well, Vance, a boy's downstairs says he wanted to see me. So I says if he wants to see me, let him come up. So you're up. And what do you want to see me about? About the murder of Robert Carnes, the drama critic. The same person also killed another critic. But I'm not quite as interested in the second murder as I am in Carnes' death. You used to go with Carnes' present wife, didn't you? Edna? Sure. What about it? Nothing. Except that from what I've heard, this Carnes wasn't too kindly an individual. Maybe you resented the way he treated his wife. And wrote them poems, too? No. No, that I doubt very much. When did you last see Mrs. Carnes, Mr. Wilcox? A couple of years ago. The way I figure it'll be a couple of years before I see her again. Well, how's the reggae with checkers, Vance? You look smart enough to be able to play checkers. Thank you very much, but I'm sorry I... Hold it. Yeah? I got it, boss. We're here. Well, in a minute, Longie, I'll buzz you. There's nothing you can tell me about Robert Carnes' murder, Mr. Wilcox. Oh, no, not me. When I read about it, I says to myself, well, somebody must not like the critics, I said. I guess maybe that's so, eh? Maybe. Both of them wrote their last notices and their death notices at the same time. Maybe there's some connection between the two. There may be. I'm glad it ain't my business to find out. Are you got time for one game, Vance? Just one game? No, I think not. I'd better be moving along. Thanks, Wilcox. Maybe we'll meet again. Okay, Longie, you can bring her in now. All right, boss. Let's see. What do I do, move here? And he's gonna jump me. And I knock off two of his guys like this. Not bad, not bad, not bad. Hello, Mike. Hello, beautiful. Come on in. Me too, boss. No, I don't want you, Longfellow. Only Mrs. Carnes. Okay, I'll be out here with the boys. It's been a long time, hasn't it, Mike? Too long, beautiful. I had to talk to you. I'm sorry I had to send Longfellow for you, but I couldn't go up to your place while the cops are all hanging around, maybe even tapping the phones. I understand, Mike. How have things been with you? Never better. We got to talk about you. When I heard about your husband getting knocked off, I says to myself, that dirty rat figured to get it. I've kept pretty good track of how he was breaking you down. Beautiful you need something, dough or mouthpiece, anything at all? You think that I... Me, I ain't the thinking type, baby. I just got the same yen for you that I always had. And nobody's gonna push you around, ever. I don't need anything, Mike, to say. Thanks just the same. Mike, it wasn't you who had Robert. You didn't. Just, uh, relax, baby. Relax. I'm not even interested in who knocked your husband off. So I'll make a deal with you, huh? You don't ask me any questions. I don't ask you none. Mr. Vance's office, Mr. Earing speaking. Ellen, this is Vance. I'm aware of you've been, Mr. Vance. People have been calling right and left. I don't want to know anything about calls right now. Listen, Ellen, get your hat. We're going to the theater. Theater at five o'clock in the afternoon? What's happening there at this time? Nothing very much, unless I can make something happen. The recs thing is that I've got to get the things I've got to do. I've got to get the things I've got to do. I've got to get the things I've got to do. I've got to get the things I've got to do. Nothing. The recs theater in half an hour. I'll be waiting. I don't mind going to a theater when nothing's on the stage, Vance. But must we wait in the lobby? And why did you bring me down here, please? Because this is as good a place as any to start working on those poetic murders. Oh. Let me think a moment. A new play opened here last night. Robert Carnes and the other critics were here. No question about that. Both of the murdered critics, Robert Carnes and Roger Degans, left and wrote excellent reviews of the show. Well, that stops the suggestion I was going to make. Stops it just like that. If it were that simple, Ellen Markham would never have called me in. I want to get a look at the seats the critics sat in. That might mean something. Hello there, Vance. Sibleton. Are you Sibleton? Well, I hear you have a hit. It's the finest play I've ever produced. Trying to buy some tickets? Not at the moment. Miss Dearing, may I present Mr. Sibleton? How do you do, Miss Sibleton? Sibleton, I'd like to go into the theatre for a moment if you don't mind. I don't mind, I guess, Vance. I just don't understand. I'm working on the murder of those two critics. I just want to look at their seats. They were both here last night. Yes, they were. I don't know what you expect to find, but come on in. I'll get the door. There, thank you. Go ahead, Ellen. Thank you. Which way, Mr. Sibleton? Spread ahead and down the middle. An empty theatre is an imposing sight, don't you think, Ellen? It is, I suppose, but not for a producer who thinks he has a hit. Then it's a catastrophe. Miss Dearing is right. Well, I won't have that worry, not with this show. Write down this, I'll pass. By the way, it seems to me that I recall Robert Karn's panning your last show, Sibleton. Oh, he wasn't the only one. You see, we have every critic in town here on opening nights, from newspapers, magazines, trade papers. Practically every one of them took a crack at that last epic of mine. Including Roger Dacons? Well, every time Karn's pans anything, Dacons does too. Oh, rather did, poor fellow. In fact, the trio of Karn's, Dacons and Moore was something every producer had nightmares about. Well, here we are then. Oh, good feet. Who's Moore? Edward Moore. He's on the chronicle. Oh, yes. He and Karn's and Dacons liked practically nothing this season. So this seat on the aisle was Robert Karn's, eh, Sibleton? That's right. But Dacons sat next to him and Moore next to Dacons. Here. Are all the seats in these few rows reserved for the press on opening nights? Oh, all of them except the first five seats in row E. Those are mine for every performance. We call them house seats. They're for me and my personal friends. You certainly give away a lot of seats on opening nights, Sibleton. It must be worth it, look at all the great publicity he gets. Oh, and the show is good, that is. Yes. Sibleton, how well did you know Karn's? Oh, not very. He made sure of that. He made it a rule never to socialize with the producers. Claimed it might influence his judgment. Not bad reasoning. I've just been thinking of something. I wonder if Edward Moore would be at his newspaper at about this time. Moore, the third member of the critics' trio? Yes. Think so, Sibleton? I haven't the slightest idea. We could go back to my office and call if you'd like. Yes, I think I... Is that you, Hasse? What, Mr. Markham? I'm here, Markham, right down the center aisle. Right. You with you in just a few seconds. Right. Do you know Mr. Markham, Sibleton? District Attorney. I know him socially, of course. Hello, Vance, Ellen. Hello, Markham. Hello, Mr. Markham. Oh, hello, Sibleton. Hello, Mr. Markham. Nice to see you again. What's going on, Markham? You just interrupted a pilgrimage to the telephone. I thought I'd try to get a lead on the two poetic murders from Edward Moore. Stop right here, then, Vance. Moore was found dead this afternoon with a knife in his heart and one of those silly poems pinned to his chest. Oh, no. He has been dead for quite some time. I'm glad you left a word that you'd be here, Vance. I knew you wanted to be kept informed, so I came down myself. Moore dead, too. Vance, what is all this? Frankly, I don't know. What was written on the third note, Markham? I'll read it to you. The curtain's down, death slams the door. The play thus ends with no encore. Vance, what's happening in this city of ours? You know what's happening in this city? A murderer is going to town. This is District Attorney Markham. Three of this city's leading dramatic critics have been murdered, and all three had bits of poetry pinned to their chests when found. The poems have proved no clue at all to any of us, including Philo Vance, who has discovered only that the murderers were not found. The poems have proved no clue at all to any of us, including Philo Vance, who has discovered only that the murderers were not found. Vance, who has discovered only that the wife of Robert Carnes, first of the critics to die, was the former girlfriend of Mike Wilcox, racketeer. Sergeant Heath, however, has picked up a character named Longfellow, diminutive stooge for Wilcox. Vance and I are waiting for him in my office. To be very practical about these murders, Markham, we're not doing very well. We might be doing wonderfully when Heath gets here. He's picked up that hired hand of Mike Wilcox, as you know. I hope he hasn't found the killer, Markham. Oh, not that I begrudge Heath, the glory of tracking down our murderer. It's just that this is the first case I've worked on this long without even denting. I'd hate for it to turn out so simple after all that. I wouldn't hate it at all, Vance. But you respect your great admiration for the unusual in crime. It's the ordinary criminal that makes the work of a district attorney easier. I know what you mean. I guess I was being a bit self-centered. I go on, get in there. You don't have to push, I'm getting. Getting that chair, sit down, and don't get up until I tell you to. You sure are tough around this place. Stop or you'll yawn right in your face. Sit down and shut up. Now, here he is, DA, the guy that knifed those three critics. His name is Longfellow. Really? Why'd you do it, Longfellow? This guy's slightly off the beam. I think he's living in a dream. Get this, DA. He worked for Mike Wilcox. Everybody knows what a torch Mike was carrying for Edna Bolle when she married Robert Carnes. Carnes was pretty tough on the gal. Everybody knows that, too. So Mike sent Longfellow to bump Carnes. Really? Sure. Listen, DA, they call this punk Longfellow. Everybody thinks they do that as a gag on a kind of he's so small. Only I find out they do it because he's spouting poetry all the time. Yes. Well, don't you get it? Spouting poetry. Those notes on the dead bodies. Poetry. This mug wanted everybody in the mob to know he knocked off Carnes and the other two, so he put poems on him. Simple. Listen to him, Rave. Hey, DA, you're going to let this flat foot pin a bum-wrap on me? I never killed nobody. I never used a knife in my life. That speaks well for your record, but very badly for your manners. Never mind Vance, Longfellow. I don't... Oh, leaving Vance? I'm afraid I must tear myself away. I have an appointment with a very charming young lady, Miss Edna Carnes. Maybe you have the murderous sergeant here. If so, you can keep him. But I have an appointment, and it's quite necessary that I keep it. Yeah? Come in. Well, Wilcox, surprised to find you here. You don't look advanced. Don't mind me. I'm just playing some solitaire. I understood that Mrs. Edna Carnes lived here. You're putting the Red Queen on a Red King. Don't give it, Vance. Sit down and play some gin if you want. Don't give it. How about a game of gin? I'd just as soon not right now, thanks. Ah, come on. I got to play with somebody. Oh, he's at solitaire. I can't find nobody to play with. Maybe your friends wouldn't like what happened to them if they were to win. Okay, Vance. If that's the way you want it. What are you doing here? I'm calling Mrs. Carnes. Where is she? She ain't home. She wouldn't want to see you even if she was home. Get you on? I'll take that. You could leave anytime now, Vance. It'd be all right with me. Yeah? Hello, is Mr. Fowler Vance there, please? Yeah, he's here. For you, Vance. Thank you very much. Hello. Vance? Ellen, I called Markham and he told me where you were. Hop right back here, Vance. I'm the double. I'm sorry, Ellen. I'll be detained here for a while. I'm waiting for Mrs. Carnes to return home. She's not going to return home, Vance. She's here, right here in your office. And she's going to wait here until you get back. Go ahead, Mrs. Carnes. Tell me anything you think might help. Mr. Vance, has it bothered you at all that there were two other critics murdered right after my husband was killed? No, Mrs. Carnes. Frankly, I haven't the slightest idea why. I have. My husband's best friends were Roger Dakens and Edward Moore. The night he was murdered, I found a note in the library reading, if anything happens to me, Roger or Edward will know who did it. And you destroyed that note? Yes. I didn't want the police to question them. The murderer did me a favor, Mr. Vance. You don't know what a life I've led with my husband. He was impossible, completely impossible. If he hadn't threatened me, I'd have left him years ago. I see. Well, this is very interesting, Mrs. Carnes. Your husband probably told his murderer that it would do him no good to kill him because his two friends would go to the police. There was nothing for the killer to do then, but wipe out Dakens and Moore. I know that now. Well, Mrs. Carnes, your actions have certainly confused us. I understood the pleasant front your husband put up in public was just a mask, but I... Everything about him was either cruel or false, from the name Robert Carnes to the brilliant words he let drop carelessly, even though he'd spent half the night thinking them up. Oh, I couldn't stand him. I just couldn't. I was thinking that when I made the appointment to see you. I thought maybe you'd killed him. Me? But I came down here to tell you all this. Doesn't that clear me? I couldn't see you at the apartment. Mike was there, so I came down to your office. That must clear me. Not necessarily, Mrs. Carnes. You might have given me some information just to throw me off. However, I'm not going to detain you. You may leave if you like. Miss Dearing. Yes, Mr. Carnes? Mrs. Carnes is leaving. I'm sorry you think the way you do, Mr. Vance. I assure you I came down to see you with only one purpose. Thank you for coming, Mrs. Carnes. We'll meet again. Goodbye. This way, Mrs. Carnes, please. Thank you. Goodbye, Mr. Vance. Goodbye. Don't go, Mr. Dearing. Goodbye, Mr. Carnes. Yes, Vance. What is it? We're finally making progress, Ellen. I know now why all three critics were murdered and that there will be no more killings, at least by the same murderer. Well, that's good news to any prospective victims. What else is up? Mrs. Carnes just let drop something I didn't know. She said that Robert Carnes was not his right name. He probably had it changed legally years ago. Find out what his name used to be, Ellen. I've got a hunch it's going to lead to something very important. You don't mind my dropping into your office at this time, do you, Mr. Sibleton? Not at all, Vance. I'm glad to be of service. You want to see the show tonight? I can let you have my house seats. Some other time, perhaps, but not tonight, Mr. Sibleton. All right. You told me you didn't know Roger Carnes socially. That's right. I didn't. Well, this is very strange, then. You have an odd name, Sibleton. Very unusual. I suppose that's right. My secretary found out that Roger Carnes' real name was Sibleton. Was he a relation? My brother. Older brother. Well, I never talked about that. He was nobody to be proud of. So I've heard from a number of sources. What did he have on you, Mr. Sibleton? Must have been something very important for you to have killed him to keep him quiet. You think I killed him? Not exactly. I know you did. You see these two tickets for your theatre, Mr. Sibleton? They were dropped at the scene of your brother's murder. And they prove I killed him? Now, Vance... Oh, but they do. You see, these tickets are house seats. Your house seats. The ones that are reserved for you. You told me about them in the theatre yesterday, remember? First five seats in row E. That's what these are for. Let me have them. There's a gun in that drawer, I presume. Not anymore. There isn't. It's in my hand. I'm sorry about this, Vance. I liked you. Well, enough to put that gun away. Hardly. Well, I don't blame you. Self-preservation is still the primary law of human motivation. By the way, I know why you killed Dacons and Moore, but why did you kill your brother? Why did Cain kill Abel? My brother and I had an argument. A terrible argument. It was about to write a magazine article telling a lot of things about me that... are best forgotten. They happened years ago before we came to this country. Robert called me up to talk to me about it, and I warned him not to write it. That's another form of self-preservation. I rather thought it was something like that. Your poetry idea was very brilliant, Sibleton. You knew about Mike Wilcox and your brother's wife, didn't you? Of course. Everybody knew that. You also knew Wilcox had a little compass with a rather odd name of Longfellow, who on occasion was addicted to poetry. You thought the police would go to Wilcox and look no further than his hireling Longfellow. You know I've got to kill you, Vance. Kill you now. No poetry? No poetry. I'm sorry. I rather relish to the wedding of the muse and the murder. Markham Heath, you can come in now. All right, drop that gun. Come on in, boys. You heard the police outside all the time. You ought to drop that gun for one thing, Sibleton. Sergeant Heath doesn't like to be kept waiting. All right, get him outside, boys. Let me go. Hello, Markham. Hello, Vance. Well, you've done your part and very well, too. From here, Monty and I'll take it and make certain, as the book has it, that justice triumphs. Do that, Markham. And in this case, wouldn't you say that it was poetic justice? Well, Vance, since you wound up the poetic murder case, don't you think we ought to close up shop for the day? Not especially, Ellen. You know there still is the possibility that Markham might call. At this hour? It's late, you know. At last reports, murderers weren't keeping office hours. I understand. The only thing I don't understand is how a murderer as clever as this Sibleton could have been careless enough to drop a pair of theatre tickets at the scene of the first murder. Oh, he didn't drop any tickets. Well, you told me that. Well, you told me that's how he started talking. I told him I found the tickets, Ellen. In fact, I even waved a couple of tickets in front of his face. Only they were opera tickets that I'd gotten for us for next week. Why, Vance, you and the truth are becoming slight strangers of late. When you're trying to trap a murderer, Ellen, any means is fair, in my opinion. By the way, I've just composed a little couplet. Like to hear it. Definitely. Very well, then. The last chapter's written. The last words, my friend, are the poetic murder cases over. We've come to the end.