Murder By Experts and The Silent Men

Summary

Case Closed! – May 27, 2026

Episode: Murder By Experts and The Silent Men
Presented by RelicRadio.com

Overview

This episode features two classic crime dramas from the golden age of radio:

1. Murder By Experts – "Summer Heat" (aired June 13, 1949):
   A psychological thriller about a lawyer haunted by a seemingly drunken mistake after his class reunion, which spirals into a suspenseful case of mistaken murder, blackmail, and a “double twist.”
2. The Silent Men – "The Missing Masterpiece" (aired May 7, 1952):
   A procedural featuring international art theft, as U.S. and French agents cooperate to recover a stolen Corot painting amidst smuggling, forgeries, and murder.

---

Murder By Experts – “Summer Heat”

A taut psychological drama of reunion, guilt, and a cruel joke gone wrong.
(Selected by guest expert Hugh Pentecost, with a "double twist," as warned by host John Dixon Carr.)

Main Characters

• Paul Baxter: The protagonist, a lawyer and reunion attendee
• Steve & Bert: Old friends, former classmates
• Marcia: Paul’s fiancée
• Jenny: Cleaning woman
• Ben: Janitor
• Dugan: Police officer
• Johnson: Medical school janitor

Key Discussion Points & Plot Developments

Class Reunion and Lingering Memories (02:46 – 04:10)

• Paul reunites with old classmates, who tease about the last party and his plans to marry Marcia.
• Paul’s cryptic response signals unease:

  “That party sort of changed my whole life.” — Paul, [03:57]

The Morning After—A Shocking Discovery (04:10 – 06:45)

• Paul awakes with a hangover, discovers a dead stranger stabbed with his own knife on his bed.
• Frantic, he cannot recall the night, fears losing everything if scandal breaks.

Memorable Line:

“I killed him. I couldn't remember when or how, or why, but I'd killed him.” — Paul, [04:35]

Desperate Measures (06:45 – 13:00)

• Events pile up: Steve and Bert nearly discover him, cleaning lady Jenny insists on entering, urgency mounts.
• Paul tries to dispose of the body using a dumbwaiter; nearly caught by Ben, the janitor, and again when Marcia calls and insists on promptness.
• He stashes the body in his car, narrowly escaping discovery by both janitors and a police officer checking the “blanketed passenger.”

Notable Quote:

“You want me to check your tire? ... That’s funny. There’s something in the car jamming it.” [17:46] – Gas Station Attendant

The Endless Search & The Perfect Hiding Place (13:00 – 20:47)

• Paul drives for hours, unable to dump the body due to crowds everywhere.
• Running out of gas, a hand nearly gives him away at the station.
• Inspiration strikes: He sneaks the body into the medical school dissecting room.

Quote:

“Where does a wise man hide a leaf? In a forest? Where does a wise man hide a body? In the dissecting room.” — Paul, [19:04]

The First Twist: Blackmail & Revelation (20:47 – 23:30)

• Johnson, janitor, confronts Paul, suspecting merely a prank involving a cadaver, and tries to blackmail him for the “return” of specimen Number 37.
• Paul realizes the “corpse” was a medical cadaver planted as a joke — he is not a murderer.

Quote:

“Number 37? ... You just came in yesterday from the county poor farm and last night he disappeared. Stolen by you and your drunken friends and dressed up for a joke.” — Johnson, [22:30]

The Second Twist & Final Unraveling (24:47 – 26:25)

• Paul, traumatized, never recovered. We learn he suffered a breakdown and was institutionalized for 12 years—this entire retelling takes place after he escapes, in a confrontation with Steve and Bert.
• Steve admits:

“We thought it would be funny to steal a cadaver from the medical college and leave it in your room with your knife on it.” — Steve, [25:27]

• The story ends with Paul attacking his friends, collapsing once again into psychosis.

---

The Silent Men – “Missing Masterpiece”

A classic federal agent procedural, merging art world glamour with international intrigue.
Narrated by Douglas Fairbanks Jr., as Agent Tom Manning.

Main Characters

• Tom Manning: U.S. special agent
• Inspector Andre Mondot: French Sûreté, art detective
• Le Comte de Montpellier: French nobleman/art owner
• Adelaide Banet: American art dealer
• Cesar Laval: Art forger
• Carpentier: French gallery owner
• Mr. Haskins & Mrs. Burton: American art collectors

Case Outline & Progression

Theft of the Corot (29:26 – 32:28)

• French count reports his prized Corot painting missing; replaced by a skilled forgery after a visit from American art dealer Adelaide Banet.

The Initial Suspect (34:34 – 36:09)

• Manning interviews Banet, who’s cagey but denies any wrongdoing:

  “Some women come to Paris for gowns. I come for pictures.” — Adelaide Banet, [35:34]

• She denies having the painting, yet she was known to have wanted it.

Following The Forger (36:17 – 40:05)

• Inspector Andre identifies the forger as Cesar Laval, who has disappeared.
• Manning buys a Laval painting from the Carpentier Gallery, noting its mass-produced quality.

The Amsterdam Clue and Murder (40:24 – 44:54)

• Laval traced to Amsterdam where he shipped four paintings (in with a dozen cheap canvases) to the U.S.

• Laval is found murdered—killed by a professional to cover tracks.

  “This was the work of a paid assassin...the quick knife cross between the shoulder blade.” — Inspector Andre, [43:15]

Smuggling Trail Back to New York (44:54 – 47:29)

• Shipping records reveal the paintings went to Mr. Haskins, half-owner of Firth Galleries, New Jersey; Banet is the other half-owner.

Tracking the Hidden Masterpiece (47:29 – 51:37)

• Banet claims two Laval “landscapes” were cash sales, but is pressed to disclose sales records:

  “May I make a suggestion? After we're gone, contact your attorney… Tell him the Treasury, Commerce, and State Departments are interested.” — Tom Manning, [50:26]

The Final Hunt: Art Collectors (51:37 – 55:29)

• One landscape is with Mrs. Burton (proves authentic), the other with Andrew Holt, a reclusive millionaire.
• In a tense visit, Holt shows his private collection; Andre surreptitiously tests the Laval painting and discovers fresh paint, identifying it as a recent forgery—Holt is hiding something.

The Masterpiece Recovered (55:29 – End)

• By night, Manning and Andre observe Holt privately adoring the real Corot.
• The painting is finally recovered; Banet is penalized only for art smuggling, not murder. Carpentier, the gallery owner in France, is held for the murder of Laval.

Closing Reflection:

“Such sentiment. I almost wish poor old…that man is as close to happiness as heaven will permit.” — Douglas Fairbanks Jr., [57:19]

---

Notable Quotes & Moments

Murder by Experts

• “I killed him. I couldn't remember when or how, or why, but I'd killed him.” — Paul ([04:35])
• “Where does a wise man hide a leaf? In a forest? Where does a wise man hide a body? In the dissecting room.” — Paul ([19:04])
• “You'd keep your mouth shut?” — Paul to Johnson ([22:48])
• "It was just a joke. For goodness sakes, he's fainted." — Johnson ([23:30])

The Silent Men

• “Some women come to Paris for gowns. I come for pictures.” — Adelaide Banet ([35:34])
• “This was the work of a paid assassin...the quick knife cross between the shoulder blade.” — Inspector Andre ([43:15])
• “Their coverings are removed only for my eyes...On a lonely evening we talked together.” — Andrew Holt ([54:08])
• “Such sentiment. I almost wish poor old…that man is as close to happiness as heaven will permit.” — Douglas Fairbanks ([57:19])

---

Timestamps for Key Segments

• [00:51] — Murder by Experts begins
• [02:46] — Reunion and life changes
• [04:10] — Paul’s morning-after horror
• [11:00] — Attempted disposal and close calls
• [17:44] — Gas station close call with the dead hand
• [20:47] — The dissecting room and Johnson’s confrontation
• [24:47] — 12 years later: Paul’s breakdown
• [29:26] — The Silent Men: Intro and theft discovery in France
• [34:34] — Manning interviews Banet
• [37:40] — The forger Laval disappears
• [40:24] — Tracking shipments in Amsterdam
• [43:15] — Laval’s murder revealed
• [46:00] — Art shipped to NJ and the US connection revealed
• [51:14] — Banet reveals customer names
• [54:08] — Andrew Holt and his secret collection
• [57:19] — The painting found, fates concluded

---

Tone & Style

• Murder by Experts: Dark, psychological tension, relying on unreliable narration and suspenseful irony; ultimately tragic.
• The Silent Men: Crisp, methodical, and procedural, blending dry wit with international intrigue and art world detail.

---

Final Thoughts

This episode showcases both the personal psychological cost of “pranks” that go awry and the complexities of international crime solving during the golden age of radio. Both stories use twist endings, but where “Summer Heat” leaves poignant tragedy, “The Missing Masterpiece” delivers satisfying justice for both murder and theft—while highlighting the quirkiness of passion for art.

For more classic radio mysteries, visit relicradio.com.

Transcript

[A]

Foreign. This is case closed crime stories from the golden age of radio. This is Case Closed Mysteries from the Golden Age of Radio with a new show every Wednesday@ Relicradio.com. our first story comes from Murder by Experts. It's titled Summer heat. It aired June 13, 1949. That's followed by the Silent Men and the Missing Masterpiece. That story aired May 7, 1952.

[B]

Murder by experts. The Mutual Broadcasting System presents Murder by Experts with your Host and narrator, Mr. John Dixon Carr, world famous mystery novelist and author of the recently published bestseller the Life of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. This is John Dixon Carr. Each evening at this time, Murder by Experts brings you a story of crime and mystery stories which has been chosen for your approval by one of the world's leading detective writers. Those experts who are themselves masters of the art of murder and can hold tensity at its highest. Tonight's guest expert is Mr. Hugh Pentecost, author of many memorable thrillers, who has selected a story by a young newcomer you'll do well to watch, Andrew Evans. Be very careful as you listen. For as Mr. Pentecost says of this thriller, the story has not only a twist, but an unforeseen double twist which takes one completely by surprise. And now we present Summer Heat. Look now but the old elms, the ivy covered buildings on the campus of a small midwestern university. It's a fine June afternoon when you hear laughter and the greetings of the reunion of the class of 36. 12 years have passed, but none of the members of the class seems much older to each other. There's the dark haired Paul Baxter, wandering rather strangely. They're two of his old friends, prosperous now judged by their clothes and boisterous in greeting. Paul. Paul Baxter, you old rascal. It's sure good to see you again. Hello, Steve. Bert. This is a surprise. Why don't you have a right to us, boy? You had our addresses. Why, sure. That's no way to treat old classmates. Just think, 12 years. Oh, they sure have gone fast. Too fast to suit me. Say, Paul, you turn awful grave for only 33. Well, he always did take things too seriously. I suppose by now, Paul, you're one of the biggest lawyers in the state, eh? How's Marcia? Yeah, you were all set to marry her after graduation, remember? Yes, and you were going to become her father's junior law partner. Oh, you sure had a sweet set up there. Well, things worked out a little differently. You see that party we had graduation night, do you remember it? Remember it?

[A]

How can we forget it?

[B]

That was a Real blowout. And were you tight, Paul? You know, that party sort of changed my whole life. Change your life?

[A]

Well, how?

[B]

Well, I. I don't remember much about the party itself. I. I guess I had too many drinks. In fact, I don't remember anything until I woke up the next morning. I could hear old Trinity ringing. I awoke to find myself on the couch in my living room. It was noon. The room was hot, stiflingly hot. I remembered I had a date with Marcia and her father at one o'. Clock. I got to my feet. My head ached. There were heat waves before my eyes. Feeling sick, I staggered toward my bedroom. And then I saw him. A man asleep on my bed, his back to me. For a moment I stood there, trying to remember if someone had come home from the party with me. But the night before was a total blank. I crossed to the bed, bent over, shook his shoulder. Hey, fella. Hey, it's noon. Wake up. Come on, wake up. I shook him. He had flopped over and looked up at me with staring eyes. He was dead. And there was a knife in his chest. My hunting knife. I stood stunned, staring down at the body on my bed. The dead man was an utter stranger to me. He was neatly dressed in old clothes, and my knife. My knife was in his heart. I killed him. I couldn't remember when or how, or why, but I'd killed him. Frantically, I tried to remember what had happened. Was he a panhandler? Someone I'd met on the street and drunkenly brought home with me? I didn't know. I couldn't remember. As I stood there, trying to get a grip on myself, I suddenly realized there was someone at the door. Instinctively, I walked into the living room and towards the door. Just as I was about to open it, I realized the danger of letting anyone into the apartment. I put my ear against the door and listened to. I heard voices. Yours, Steve. And yours, Bert. Hey, Paul, open up. We want to say goodbye. Come on, Paul, wake up, will you? We're leaving for California in 15 minutes. I guess old Paul isn't in.

[A]

Yeah. I wonder how he felt when he woke up.

[B]

Boy, what a head he must have had.

[A]

Still, I sure hate to leave without saying goodbye.

[B]

Well, he has our California address. He can write to us. Come on, or we'll miss that train. And they were both gone. And I dared to breathe again. I tried to think calmly, figure out what to do. I knew I should call the police, but they. They might charge me with murder. In what defense could I offer? I thought of Marcia. The slightest Scandal. And everything would be off. Our marriage, my job, my future. I couldn't call the police. I couldn't call them and sacrifice everything I'd worked for. Somehow I had to get the body out of my apartment. Get rid of it before it was found. Then it came to me. My car was in the basement garage. The dumbwaiter in the kitchen led down to the basement. I could put the dead man in the dumbwaiter, lure him to the basement, get him in my car. And then. Mr. Paul. Oh, Mr. Paul. It was Jenny, the cleaning woman. She'd let herself in with a key. I hurried into the living room, closing the bedroom door behind me.

[C]

There you are. A fine time for a rising young

[B]

lawyer to be getting up. Oh, hello, Jenny. I. I guess I overslept. I was at a party last night.

[C]

A party, was it?

[B]

Everyone on the campus is talking about

[C]

it and the complaints. Well, now step aside and let me into that bedroom.

[B]

I gotta start cleaning. Jenny, can't you come back later and do the place? No, I can't.

[C]

Now, get out of my way.

[B]

Jenny, wait. I don't want you to clean up yet.

[C]

Paul, what's wrong? Why are you blocking the door like that?

[B]

Well, the truth of the matter is one of the boys had a bit too much last night and he's in my bedroom sleeping it off. Oh, well, get him out of there. Take him to a Turkish bath. Turkish bath? Oh, yes, that's. That's a good idea. Look, Jenny, just give me half an hour to get him dressed and out of here. Then you can come back and clean up. Half hour. Nothing.

[C]

I'll give you exactly five minutes.

[B]

All right, Jenny. I'll have him out of here by then. You'd better. She was gone, and I had five minutes. Just five minutes. I went into the bedroom and quickly went through the dead man's pockets. They were empty. There was no identification in them. The thin, pinched face told me he was a nobody. A derelict. Someone who might never be missed. As I was about to lift him off the bed, the phone rang. Shrill ring filled the room. Hello?

[C]

Hello, darling.

[B]

Marcy.

[C]

How was your stag party last night? Did you miss me?

[B]

Miss you? You sound as though you have a dreadful hangover. Hangover? Oh, yes. Oh, excuse me a minute. Marsha, there's someone at the door. Yes, I'll be coming in to clean

[C]

your room in another minute, Paul.

[B]

Jenny. So get your friend out of there. Oh, yes, Jenny, yes. Just give me another minute and we'll be out of here. Marcia, I can't talk to you any longer? I'm in a hurry. Then you haven't forgotten your appointment with Father and myself at one o'? Clock? No, no, no. I may be a little late, but I'll be there. Paul, you mustn't be late. I've told you over and over what a stickler Father is for punctuality. He can't stand people who are late for appointments. You recall how furious he was when you didn't show up? I know, Marcia, but.

[C]

You have 45 minutes to shave, shower and dress. That's plenty of time.

[B]

And, Paul, wear your gray flannel suit

[C]

with a blue knitted tie and be sure you're there.

[B]

Yes, Marcia, yes, but I've got to hang up. Jenny will be coming back any. What if she is? Now, darling, you haven't forgotten what we discussed yesterday afternoon? Yesterday afternoon?

[C]

Yes. No, I know Father's brusque and inclined

[B]

to bully people, but don't let it upset you.

[C]

After all, it's our future.

[B]

He's. Marsha, I can't talk any longer. I've got to hang up. Jenny will be back. I've only seconds left.

[C]

What in the world are you talking about?

[B]

Now, when Father asks, I've got to hang up. I've got to. Goodbye. I hung up the phone and wiped the sweat running down my face. It took only a moment to lift him off the bed, carry him into the kitchen, pull the dumbwaiter up and put his body into it. I closed the door to the dumbwaiter, ran out of the apartment and started down the stairs to the basement. I got down to the basement to find Ben the janitor, leisurely pulling on the dumbwaiter rope. Ben. Oh, Ben. Oh, hello, Paul.

[A]

Now.

[B]

But your car you're after, it's there by the door, all washed, like. Yeah, thanks. But, Ben, stop a minute, will you? I want you to do something for me. Sure, Paul. Just soon as I've emptied this dumbwaiter. Will you stop blowing that dumb waiter? Stop. You. Here. Hey, what's wrong with you? You're acting mighty strange. I. I'm sorry I. I shouted like that. Been. It's just that there's a package up in my apartment that I'd like you to mail right away. There. There's a dollar in it for you. All right, but there ain't no need to rush today. Sunday, the post office is closed.

[C]

Close?

[B]

Sure. Say, what's the matter with you, anyway? Must be the heat. Something awful heavy on it somewhere. Wait. Wait a minute. There's something else. How's that. Stop a minute, will you? How can I talk to you about your lowering that dumbwaiter? Go ahead. I can hear everything you're saying. Let's go in that smoke.

[C]

Let's go.

[B]

You hit it. Hey, you going crazy or something? I've half a mind to call a super and tell him what? No, no, no. Don't do that. I, I. Ben, up in my apartment, there's a bottle. Bottle? Yes, I brought it home last night. It. It's half full. I wanted you to have it for cleaning the car. Oh, thanks. I sure appreciate that, Paula. I'll go up and get it as soon as I've emptied this dumbwaiter. It's almost down now. But, Ben, Jenny just went in to clean. You know how she feels about drinking. Jenny. Jumping grasshoppers. Why didn't you say so? That woman will pour it all down the drain if I don't get there first. As soon as Ben disappeared up the stairs, I pulled the dumbwaiter the rest of the way down, opened the door and he fell into my arms. Slinging the body over my shoulder, I staggered with it to my car and swiftly dropped him on the floor in the back. It was an old touring car. The top was long since gone. To hide the body from view, I covered it with an old blanket. A moment later, I started a motor and rolled smoothly out of the basement and into the driveway. As I did, I heard Ben shouting to me from my window. Oh, I pull. Wait a minute. I pretended not to hear Ben calling. Instead, I stepped on the gas. I was almost proud of myself as I drove past the campus. I was in trouble, but I was thinking fast, as a good lawyer should. I'd already decided I'd have to get rid of him by dumping him into the river. As I came to Main street, driving neither too fast nor too slow, I turned left toward the river. There was very little traffic, and I was just about to speed up when behind me I heard a whistle blowing. It was Dugan, the town's only traffic cop, and he was blowing for me to stop. There was nothing to do but pull over to the curb. As Dugan hurried up to me, I realized I'd driven through a red light. Hello, Dugan. Never mind that hello, Dugan stuff. What's the matter, you colorblind? I'm sorry, Dugan. I just didn't notice the light. You just didn't notice the light. That's fine. I think you and me had better take a ride over to Justice Miller. Look, don't run. Me and Dugan, it won't happen again. That's what all you college cut ups say. Next thing you know, you'll be telling me, what do you got there in the back underneath that blanket? Under the blanket? You heard me. What's under it? Why, that's Roy Hamilton, one of my classmates. Yeah? Well, what's he lying on the floor under a blanket on a hot day like this for? Last night at our farewell shindig, Roy had a few too many. He's still out. I'm taking him home. Where does he live? At Mrs. Randolph's boarding house. What are you handing me? That's in the other direction. Yes, yes, I know. But first I'm taking him to the Turkish bath on Elm Street. Yeah, well, by the time you get him there, the poor guy will be dead. Ain't you got no sense? What do you mean? Look at the way you got the blanket over his head. And in this heat, too. I better pull a blanket off his face so he can breathe. No, no, I. I mean, I covered his face on purpose. Suppose Dean Richards or somebody saw Roy like this? Yeah, that's right. Just the same. I. But I. But I'll be right with you. Jensen. Johnson. Where were we, Baxter? Oh, yeah, the guy in the back. He'll smother to death if we don't move the. See you right away. I'm coming. I'm coming. I won't run you in this time, Baxter. But from now on, stay awake when you're driving. I will, Dugan. And for Pete's sake, pull the blanket off that guy's head. Take it easy, gents. And I'm coming. As I stepped on the gas, I muttered a prayer of thanks for old Johnson, the janitor of the medical school building, who had called Dugan just as he was reaching for the blanket that covered my passenger. It was a few minutes after one as I drove out of town. I could picture Marsha's father fuming in my lateness. The sun was scorching in my open car as I drove along River Road looking for a place to hide the body. I needed one where there were trees to hide me. The hours that followed were like a nightmare. The heat was stifling and I could feel my hand shaking on the wheel from nervous tension. I drove and drove and drove, looking for a place to get rid of the body. But the whole countryside seemed to be swarming with people. Families picnicking, Boy Scouts camping. Kids in swimming, couples in parked cars. No matter where I turned, there was always someone in sight. Little spots Danced before my eyes. Waves of faintness swept over me. My hand began to ache in my head too unbearably. It was already long after 3. I was late for my date with Marcia and her father. That didn't matter. Nothing mattered but to get rid of the body in the back of the car. I had to get rid of it. I had to. I drove mile after mile, turning from one road to another, searching endlessly for a safe place to stop. Then I realized I was running out of gas. I saw a gas station ahead, and I decided to stop there. It was a risk, but I had to take it. Okay, mister, that's five gallons. Want me to check your oil? No, no, thanks. How much? $1.15.

[A]

Boy, it's hot, isn't it?

[B]

Yes, sis, hot. All right.

[A]

Here you are.

[B]

That's 115 out of five. Now get your change. Hey, this rear tire looks a little flat. That's all right. You want me to check? It won't take but a minute. It's all right, I tell you. Okay, mister. Just you say your rear door is open. I better shut that for you. Leave that door open. Ah, but you don't want to drive along with your rear door open. That's funny. There's something in the car jamming it. I better have a. Leave that door alone and get my train. But you. All right, mister, just as you say. Get your change. He hurried into the station. I looked in the back of the car and saw what had kept the door from closing. It was a hand, his hand sticking out from under the blanket. The attendant had seen it. He would be phoning the police. I drove faster and faster. The police would be on the lookout for me now. My whole future depended on what I did in the next few minutes. And then it came to me. In one brief moment, it came to me. The perfect way to get rid of the body was so simple, so perfect that I laughed aloud with relief. A half hour later, I was parked in an alley behind one of the university buildings. It was Sunday, and the place was deserted. Despite my fatigue and aching head, it took me but a moment to carry the body into the basement of the medical building and down the corridor to the basement room where the bodies for the dissecting glasses were kept. Where does a wise man hide a leaf? In a forest? Where does a wise man hide a body? In the dissecting room. The room was big and cool and dimly lit. The far end was a long metal tank. I reached the tank and lowered him to the stone floor. Beside it, I had only to open the tank, slip him inside and leave. I reached for the lid of the preserving tank and was about to open it when I heard a voice. Hey. Hey, who's in there? It was Johnson, the janitor. I quickly dropped behind the tank and waited, holding my breath. I heard you. Stop fighting and come out. I know you're here. I just saw your car through the window. You better come out if you know what's good for you. He'd seen my car. He knew I was in the room. But if I kept my head, there was a chance. Just a chance. All right, Johnson. Here I am. Baxter. Eh? It's you, is it? You're the one. Johnson.

[A]

Wait a minute.

[B]

Let me explain. Explain, huh? After last night, I'm not listening to any fancy stories. I'm the one who gets blamed when. What's that on the floor behind you? There, on the floor. What? Nothing. Johnson. You think I'm blind or something? Step aside and let me see. What? Why, it's a body. Yes, it's a body. Oh, that's it. I thought you were trying to steal one. Instead, you were bringing it. Yes, I was bringing. And just what were you going to do with that gentleman on the floor? Put him back in the tank with the rest? Yes, that's right. I. I thought he might not be noticed. As if I wouldn't have known. Well, go on. Call the cops. Let's get it over with. All right, Baxter. Of course I don't have to call the cops. Nobody knows about this but you and me. What? What do you mean? Well, I was going to make a report, but this way there's no harm done, so I might be able to overlook the whole thing, if I was persuaded properly. You might overlook it, eh? That's right. You just leave this fella to me, and there's no fuss because nobody's the wiser. You'd do that? You'd keep your mouth shut. I guess I could be persuaded, too. How much? Well, suppose we save $50. $50? That isn't much, considering what would happen if I reported you. No, no, it isn't. $50, that's. That's very cheap. To help me cover up a murder. Murder? Ah, more of your jokes. I'm not talking about murder. I'm talking about putting number 37 here back in his proper place. Number 37? Yes, 37. He just came in yesterday from the county poor farm, and last night he disappeared. Stolen by you and your drunken friends and dressed up for a joke. Well, I don't like Jokes like that.

[A]

I drove downtown a while back to

[B]

tell Dugan the constable about him, but I didn't tell him anything. It would mean trouble for me for being asleep on the job. Number 37 you stolen from me last night. Ay, that's what I said. As long as you brought him back, there's no harm done. That's why I'm willing to keep it quiet. Then. Then I didn't kill him. It was just a joke somebody played on me. Just a practical joke. Here, here, here. What's wrong with you? It's a joke. It's a very good joke on me. This whole afternoon, driving, driving in the heat, trying to get rid of him. It was just a joke. A joke. For goodness sakes, he's fainted. That's the story of what happened the day after our graduation party 12 years ago. When I came to, I was in the college hospital. I'd been unconscious a week.

[A]

They.

[B]

They said it was just a slight breakdown brought on by sunstroke. I was all right after a while, but somehow I wasn't interested in law anymore. Marcia and I didn't get married, and I didn't become her father's junior law partner.

[A]

Good Lord, Paul.

[B]

We never knew, any of us. Gosh, Paul, I can't tell you how sorry I am. We never dreamed our gag would turn out like that. Your gag? Why, sure. See, after the party broke up that night, we were feeling pretty high and, well, it was a crazy idea, but we thought it would be funny to steal a cadaver from the medical college and leave it in your room with your knife on it. That it was you,

[A]

the two of you.

[B]

Well, yes, Paul. Gosh, I feel terrible about this, but. Well, that day we left, we came up to your apartment to tell you about a little joke, only you weren't in. We had a rush for our train, but we phoned from the station. Then the janitor answered, and we told him to explain about the cadaver. I heard him calling, but I didn't stop. Paul, will you ever be able to forgive us for what happened? Forgive you? Forgive you? No.

[C]

No.

[B]

I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. Do you hear? Kill you. Hey, wait a minute. No. Get included, Bert. Help me. Choking me. Help me. There he is. Man. Grab. Quick. Grab him. Get him back to the hospital. I kill him.

[C]

Take him out.

[B]

You hurt, mister? No, no, I. I'm all right. But you came just in time. He was trying to kill me. Why, he sure was. He. He just went crazy. Well, I'M sure sorry this happened. You see, he slipped away from the hospital this afternoon. We figured he'd head this way. A hospital? Yes. Poor fella had a bad breakdown just after he graduated 12 years ago. He's been locked up ever since. Locked up? Yeah. He's always been perfectly harmless, though. He just went around all the time looking for a place to hide something. This is the first time he ever got violent. I can't figure out what came over. And so the curtain falls on Summer Heat, which was chosen by guest expert Hugh Pentecost, whose latest thriller, where the Snow Was Red, will be published next month. We welcome your comments on tonight's story. All letters should be addressed to Murder by Experts, care of Mutual broadcasting system, New York 18. New York. Next week at this time, Murder by Experts brings you the story of a woman who pitted her wits against death. A story selected for your approval by Brett Halliday, creator of the rough, tough detective known as Mike Shane. Until then, this is your host, John Dixon Carr, saying good night. In our cast were Lawson Zerby, Bryna Rayburn, Ian Martin, Cameron Andrews, Bill Zuckert and Frank Baron. Summer Heat by Andrew Evans was adapted for radio by Robert A. Arthur and David Cogan. Original music was composed by Richard lepage. The orchestra was conducted by Emerson Buckley. Murder by Experts is produced and directed by Robert A. Arthur and David Cogan. All characters in this story were fictitious, and any resemblance to the names of actual persons was purely coincidental. Bill Tompkins speaking. This is the world's largest network, serving more than 500 radio stations. The Mutual Broadcasting System.

[A]

Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. In the silent Men. The National Broadcasting Company proudly presents Douglas Fairbanks production of the Silent Men. Transcribe stories of the undercover operations of the special agents of every branch of our federal government and their relentless fight against crime. Now here is Douglas Fairbanks. The federal law enforcement agencies of the United States work in close cooperation with similar agencies in foreign countries. For only in this cooperation is there hope for a solid bulwark against international crime. This story tells how the French and American federal authorities combine to solve a difficult and baffling case. It was told to me by one of the commissioners of the ciote. In it, I will assume the identity of the special agent Tom Manning. The file case entitled Missing Masterpiece, in which only the names and places are fictional. The man beside me in the car was M. Andre Mondo of the C. He was an art detective. For this assignment. He had the training and background I had, not. Art is everything. Lights and shadows, colors and flash strokes. Masterpieces and murder. That runs the complete gamut, Inspector. And this, this picture we are looking for is a masterpiece. And you say the theft was reported three weeks ago, eh? 3. Le Comte de Montpellier came home from his trip abroad, and it was gone. You said before the painting would probably show up in the United States. You didn't say why. It has happened like this many times in the past. Well, that's not exactly what I'd call evidence. Ah, but, monsieur, I have evidence more than a tyrant. Here is the Cond. Montpellier chateau. Before we go in, Inspector, don't you think you'd better tell me what you know? Oh, come, monsieur. We let the count tell you in his own words. The chateau was one of those unbelievable things you sometimes see in the movies. The uniformed servant led us into a huge study. Where the Comte de Montpellier stood ready to receive us. This, then, is the American detective, a special agent of his government. Monsieur Thomanning, le Comte de Montpellier. How do you do, Count? Please to sit down. You have told the American that I wish my picture returned at once. As soon as it can be arranged. Monsieur le Comte, Monsieur Manning would like the details of what you have told us. I am weary to death of repeating them. But about one month ago, an art dealer, Monsieur Carpentier, asked if he could bring a client of his to see my collection. You said he might. Oui. They came, and immediately this lady was drawn to my Corot painting. A woman, eh? Then she had the effrontery to try to buy it for $25,000. Monsieur Le Conde reminded her that such pictures were not exportable. Yes. I dismissed the matter, and they left. That week I went away on a short business trip, and when I came back, I found this cheap imitation girl in place of my priceless treasure. This woman, you got her name? Oui, Mademoiselle Banet. I delayed Banet. A French woman? No, monsieur. An American. I persuaded the remnant of the French aristocracy to give us the imitation Coho someone had so kindly left in place of the genuine article. Then Inspector Andre and I headed back to the city. Monsieur, you are satisfied that we have a case? It's worth an investigation. What do you want me to do? We wish to take direct action, monsieur. And as an American citizen is involved, may be involved. We feel that you could best talk to her. If she will return the picture to us immediately, we will forget this whole unpleasantness. I see. Tell me you know where she lives. Hotel La Rose. Drop me off there and I'll have a talk with her. If she's in. According to the clerk at the laros, Mademoiselle Banet of New York and Paris was not in her suite. So I sat around and waited for her. Surprising how much time an agent spends just waiting. I phoned the embassy and made a report to my chief. He told me to stick with it and do whatever I found necessary. About 4 o' clock at tall, well built, blonde in her early 30s. Breezed through the lobby and up the elevator. The clerk gave me the nod and in a few minutes I was knocking on her door.

[C]

Who's that?

[A]

Tom Manning, a fellow American in Paris.

[C]

I don't know Tom Manning.

[A]

That can be easily overcome.

[C]

What do you want?

[A]

To talk to you. Let me in, please.

[C]

Who are you?

[A]

Special Agent, United States government. Oh.

[C]

Oh, well, come in. Sit down, please.

[A]

Thanks.

[C]

May I fix you a drink?

[A]

Well, this isn't exactly a social call.

[C]

I suppose you've come to see me about the Count's missing Corot?

[A]

Yes, he wants it back.

[C]

What am I supposed to do? Open a trunk and hand it to you?

[A]

Well, that'd help. Have you got it?

[C]

No. You should know that I've been followed every minute for the past two weeks. I've had my room searched as only the friends can do it.

[A]

You offered the count $25,000 for the picture?

[C]

Yes. I knew he wouldn't sell, so I made the grand gesture.

[A]

You know it's illegal to export a picture of such importance.

[C]

Of course. Art is my business.

[A]

You represent the first galleries in New York, right?

[C]

Some women come to Paris for gowns. I come for pictures.

[A]

How long have you been here?

[C]

Five weeks.

[A]

I understand you're sailing in a couple of days.

[C]

Yes.

[A]

Make some interesting purchases.

[C]

I've accumulated the usual artistic nonenities for the carriage.

[A]

To say nothing exceptional like a goro, no? Buy all your pictures in Paris.

[C]

Look, my firm has done very well without resorting to international thievery. Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Manning, I have to make myself cr.

[A]

Of course. Well, I'll be seeing you.

[C]

Please do.

[A]

After a time in the service, a special agent develops a special sensitivity towards the guilt symptoms a criminal might reveal when you're talking to him. In Ms. Benet's case, they registered zero. And I was ready to call Inspector Andre, the art detective, and tell him to go sip an abstinence, when instead he called me at my apartment. Hey, Monsieur Thumb, I am very excited. Not me. I'm very unexcited. I spoke to the girl this afternoon. I got nowhere with her. She will not return. It says she hasn't got it. And I believe her. Nevertheless, we will get it back, thanks to you. To me? You planted the thought in my head. I did? About the imitation copy of Corot. Well, good for me. I said to myself, Andre, if you can find out who painted this imitation, you can find out who stole the original. But there was no signature on it. Ah, every artist is his own signature. The brushes he uses, the thickness of his colors, his style. These are signatures. Well, I'll take your word for it. So this afternoon I've gone to see some of the better experts in painting. They have absolutely identified the work. No kidding? No. The imitation was painted by Cesar Laval, a painter of some skill and no scruples. Cesar Laval? But that is not all. Cesar Laval has been working exclusively for the Carpentier Gallery. Have you arrested Laval?

[B]

No.

[A]

We have left Paris very suddenly. Does that not show guilt? It helps. But we've still got to find him. Oh, the syrup. They will find him. I have no doubt of. By noon of the next day, every informer in the Parisian underworld was looking for the whereabouts of Monsieur Laval. About two o' clock I went to the Carpentier Gallery to take a look round. A middle aged saleslady approached me. Is Mr. Carpentier the proprietor in?

[C]

He is away on a short business trip. Perhaps I can help you. I am his wife.

[A]

I don't know. A friend of mine bought a painting here by a Cesar Laval. You still have any of his works?

[C]

Oui, Monsieur. This way please. You are an American?

[A]

Yes.

[C]

These landscapes are his?

[A]

They all look the same. Almost identical. Sort of mass production.

[C]

They sell very reasonably. Only 5 of the francs.

[A]

If I trusted my own judgment, I'd say they look, well, pretty mediocre.

[C]

He is no great artist, but there is a certain freshness. We have sold many of these to your fellow countrymen.

[A]

You have anything else by Levin?

[C]

No, monsieur.

[A]

I understand Mr. Laval's an excellent copyist.

[C]

I did not know that.

[A]

Could you tell me where I might find him?

[C]

No, Monsieur. He is of the unstable temperament. Makes a few francs, then he goes away.

[A]

I see.

[C]

You will take one of these Laval landscapes? 450 francs.

[A]

I think I will, yes. No, not that one. Looks like it's been scratched.

[C]

Rosette. Some foolish gendarme thought you would find some masterpiece hidden underneath it. Let me give you another one. Shall I wrap it for you?

[A]

No, no, no, thank you.

[C]

Something else perhaps that attracts your eyes?

[A]

No, that'll be all. Here's your money. 450 francs.

[C]

Merci. You now own a Genuine Laval. And for only 450 francs.

[A]

Yeah, someday it may be worth 450 francs. Goodbye.

[C]

Merci, Monsieur Detective.

[A]

The following day, Ms. Benet sailed for New York. In the meantime, we hadn't located Laval, the painter whose imitation coho had been found by the Comte de Montpellier. Without him, this thing was going to be tough to crack. But finally they found him. And if you don't wake up, come to the door. What is it? Quick, let me in. Well, you look like you've got big news. Oh, we have found him. We have his address. Oh, Laval's address. Get rest quick. Okay. Give me a minute. Shave and a quick shower. Oh, this job. It does not matter if you are not beautiful. For two days, Laval had not left his room. The caretaker told me they'd been hiding. If your theory is right, then Carpentier had Laval paint the imitation Corot. Absolutely. Ah, well, we will walk. It's only around the corner. Ah, in a few minutes, Monsieur, it will be over. I hope you're right. Ah, here is the place. At the top of the stairs. Oh, this will be a great victory for the Sierra. In the name of the. Laval, you are under arrest. Looks like he's not receiving company today. Back. I'm going to shoot the lock off. Lavelle. Nobody's here. Let's take a look around. Few pencil sketches, dirty dishes. Here's a passport. Monsieur, quick. What have you got there? Behind this couch? Look. Is. Is that him? Biancieu. The corpse of Cesar Lav. You don't think the motive was robbery? Oh, no, no, no, no. And they made it look like robbery. But this was the work of a paid assassin. I know the trademark well. The quick knife cross between the shoulder blade. You think this ties in with the missing picture? Laval dead is as important to others as he was to us alive. Carpentier, we. What's the next move then? We go to inquire about the very interesting passport Monsieur Laval used so recently. The one that says he visited Amsterdam only 30 days ago. We checked Laval's recent visit to Amsterdam, and we learned some pretty significant facts. Laval had taken four of his own paintings with him. One of them, Inspector Andre was certain, covered the stolen mastiff. Andre was sure Laval had shipped them from Amsterdam to New York to avoid too close a scrutiny by the French customs inspectors. So we went to Amsterdam and checked with all the shipping services. There was no record of any shipment to the Firth Galleries in New York. We stood on a street corner, tired and more than a little baffled. I tell you, Laval Shipped the paintings from here? Not according to the authorities. They have no record of Laval shipping anything. Wait a minute. I. Wait. Maybe he got someone else to ship it for him as part of a larger shipment. Oh, you're right. He could have done that. Bought pictures in some of the gallery and sent them together. Come, Monsieur, we must go to visit the gallery. We divided the territory and in the next four days I acquired a liberal but painful education in the field of art. Everywhere I went, I showed Laval's photograph and the Laval landscape I had bought from Carpentier. On the morning of the fifth day, I went into a picture house that was doing a brisk business. Yeah, some fine prints today, perhaps Some china we ship all over the world. America, Charles. America. No, I'm not buying today. Will you take a look at this landscape, please? I handled some like it not long ago. About five weeks ago, would you say?

[C]

Yeah.

[A]

Say, who are you anyway? You remember the man's name? Was it Laval? Cesar Laval. I do not remember the exact name. Here, take a look at this photograph. Yeah, that's him. I will never forget that face. Tell me why. He came in one day and bought a dozen of my cheapest canvases. He did not even look at them. They were atrocious, some of them. Then he had me ship them for him. Only the 12 pictures? No, no. He added his four own canvases and I shipped them together. Where did you send them?

[C]

Wait.

[B]

I will find the shipping bill.

[A]

I keep good records. Such terrible pictures they were, even for the American trade. Here it is. 16 canvases shipped to Mr. Allen Haskins, 1198 Longdale Road Meadows, New Jersey. Inspector Andre wasn't in the hotel room when I got back. While I waited for him, I put through a call to New York. About an hour later, the inspector returned and I told him what I'd learned from the Amsterdam arts dealer. Ah, Monsieur. In one week we will have the picture back. This has been a great day for you, Monsieur Tom. For me? Why? Well, you are completely vindicate. You say Mr. Haskins from New Jersey received the shipment? Yeah. Then you are right about Ms. Bernard. She is innocent. Before you bubble over, Inspector, I just spoke to New York. Yes. You told them that we were coming? Uh huh. And I got some information about Mr. Alan Haskins. Example? Mr. Haskins is half owner of the Firth Galleries. Oh. And the other half is owned by Ms. Adelaide Banay. Two days later we were in New York instituting a nationwide search for the missing coho for the week passed by and it hadn't turned up. In the meantime, I checked the reports on Ms. Banai's activities since she got back to New York and there was nothing especially significant in them. Andre's early jubilation had changed to a bitter gloom. And I had thought for certain the buyer of the picture would shout to the world, look. By Hazakoro. But if the buyer knew it was stolen, he wouldn't advertise the fact that he had it, would he? What sort of insanity is this? To own a picture like this and not share it with others? It's possible, isn't it? Well, I think it's possible. I suppose now there's only one thing left for us to do. Confront the Ms. Barnet and demand the return of the painting. And give her a chance to warn whoever has it. We will not leave until she tells us. I am certain of her guilt. No, this is serious, monsieur. There is murder involved too, but all the evidence is circumstantial unless we can find the picture. We will make her tell us where it is. I have methods. We don't use them here. Oh, monsieur, I implore you. This is your baby, Andrew. And so, Inspector. Voila. We are now in the sacred precincts of the Firth Gallery Krachik. Just like you'd imagine it to look. The only spot in America where you can still see Lorgnette. Monsieur. What is it? Idea? Two of Laval's hideous landscapes. May I help you? These landscapes, very interesting. By Cecil Eval, one of the outstanding contemporary French painters. The manager, Ms. Benary, I believe she's in her office. We'll go see her, Andre. Perhaps I'd better ask her if she's free. Well, don't trouble yourself. Where's the office? Up those stairs to the mezzanine. Come, mon ami. I'm getting impatient. I did not expect that she would display the Laval landscapes here. She's a pretty shrewd gal. She knew we might trace him to this place. And if we find the two missing lavas, we find the coho. Have they had time to restore the original painting?

[C]

Come in. The anti social Mr. Manning I met in Paris. The other gentleman I don't know.

[A]

Inspector Andre of the French sorte.

[C]

Quite a formidable team. Sit down, gentlemen.

[A]

Mademoiselle, we do not beat around the bushes. I have come to take back the coral.

[C]

I see. And all trails lead to me?

[A]

Yes. Will you answer a few questions?

[C]

I believe I have the right to refuse.

[A]

That's right. Do you refuse?

[C]

Not at all. Go ahead.

[A]

Mademoiselle's Sieur le Lac were shipped Here?

[C]

No.

[A]

Did this firm receive a group of paintings from Amsterdam? 16 canvases, I believe.

[C]

Yes.

[A]

Included in that shipment were four Laval landscapes?

[C]

I believe so.

[A]

This shipment was not consigned to this firm, but to your partner.

[C]

Mr. Haskins has been ill at home for some months. I wanted him to see the pictures before they were displayed in the gallery.

[A]

Why were Monsieur Lava's canvases included in that shipment from Amsterdam?

[C]

A matter of expediency. I had commissioned him to buy some cheap canvases with a Dutch flavor. He included his own paintings with a lot.

[A]

You had four Lavals. We only saw two in your gallery. Where are the other two?

[C]

Why, sold him, of course. I really don't know. They went out as cash sales.

[A]

May we examine your sales record?

[C]

You may not.

[A]

May I make a suggestion?

[C]

Certainly.

[A]

After we're gone, contact your attorney. Explain to him the nature of our investigation. Tell him the following governmental agencies are vitally interested. The Treasury Department, the Department of Commerce and the State Department.

[C]

And what do you think this consultation will lead to?

[A]

The exact whereabouts of the two missing Lavalles. We paid our return visit to the gallery next morning. The metallic Ms. Banai was waiting for us.

[C]

I had expected you earlier.

[A]

We wanted you to have plenty of time to think it over.

[C]

It didn't take that long.

[A]

You consulted your attorney.

[C]

That wasn't at all necessary. You asked for certain information. I got it for you.

[A]

Good.

[C]

One landscape was sold to a Mr. Andrew Holt. West Darien Drive, Long Island.

[A]

Get that. Andre Holt. Is that the railroad man?

[C]

I believe he is.

[A]

Haven't heard his name for 15 years. I thought he was dead.

[C]

He's very much alive.

[A]

Does he buy here often? No.

[C]

The other one went to a Mrs. Elizabeth Burton. 1461 Parkway Place.

[A]

Aha. Now we are getting some places. Then we rode out to Mrs. Elizabeth Burton's home on Parkway Place. She let us into her study where the Laval was hanging. Andre examined it minutely and he told me it was a Laval and nothing more. From there we went to Andrew Holtz estate on Long Island. And it was an estate, complete with iron gates and a long curving driveway. Mr. Formidable Place, this Monsieur O residence. Secluded, isn't it? Hope we have no trouble getting in. He's not exactly renowned for his hospitality. Well, my credentials then, Special Agent. What do you want here? We are interested in your paintings, Monsieur. My paintings are not for public view. You will have to wait until I die. This is not just idle curiosity, sir. This is an official call. I see. Come in. You are interested in one specific painting. A Laval Landscape. Come this way. Monsieur. Why do you keep your pictures covered? That is my business. They belong to me and me alone. Here is your Laval. That is it. Do you mind if we take a look at some of your other paintings? They are not for public view. Their coverings are removed only for my eyes. I'm sorry, sir. We must see them. For 15 years I've shared these with no one, not even a servant. Remove the coverings, please. Oh, a Rembrandt. Yes, the dancer. I've spoken to her many times. On a lonely evening we talked together. Another one, please. Rousseau's Sunset. Monsieur, do you keep these hidden from the unhappy eyes of the world? Rousseau's Sunset. How young it makes me just to look at it. You see those two lovers? The man is I. Mr. Holt, you can save us a lot of time. We'd like to see Corot sur le Lac sur le Lack. How I wish I possessed it. What I would give for it. You do not have it, monsieur? No, unfortunately no. We looked at every painting in his considerable collection. He owned a million dollars worth of masterpieces, but there was no coral to be found. In his eerie way, Mr. Holt introduced us to his collection as though they were living beings. Before we left, Andres stood before the Laval painting again. I saw him take out his little pen knife and make a quick tiny scratch on its surface. Then we left and got into the car. Stop when you get outside the gate. What for? He has it in the house. I'm certain. What makes you think so? That Laval painting. You saw me test it with my knife. Yeah, it isn't a Laval at all. It's a copy of a Laval. A copy of a copy?

[B]

Really?

[A]

Done only recently, probably yesterday. Look. Look at the pigment on my knife. Wet and fresh. I now had one main for him in a hurry. When she knew we were closing in, we. We will wait till it is dark, then we will go and get the coal. Why not now? You'll see us coming and hide it again. It won't be hidden tonight. No. When he thinks he is safe, he'll take it out to gloat over it like a nice girl. And he's gold. About 9 o' clock the window and let ourselves into. We moved cautiously down the corridor towards the study. The door was open. Inside, a studio lamp was shining brightly on a picture in front of it sat an old man talking to him. I will be good to you. You will never want for light or air or companionship. We moved quietly into the room. We will have many talks together. And I will see what you have hidden in your shadows, and I will get to know the mystery of your power. I guess we might as well marry. Such sentiment. I almost wish poor old that man is as close to happiness as heaven will permit. This is Douglas Fairbanks again. Adelaide Bennet paid for the criminal offense of smuggling objects of art into the United States. Luckily for her, she had no connection with the murder of Cesar Laval. For this crime, Monsieur Carpentier of the Carpentier Galleries in France made a final accounting. The recovery of the stolen masterpieces is another chapter in the distinguished chronicles of our Silent Men, the special agents of all branches of our federal government who daily risk their lives to protect the lives of all of us. Next week we will tell you a story involving heartbreak, fraud and the United States mail in the File Case entitled the Miracle Cure, Another venture undertaken for our protection by the Silent Men. The Silent Men is produced and directed by Warren Lewis. The File Case, the missing masterpiece, was written by Lewis and Rusoff and transcribed in Hollywood. Only the names and places were fictional. Featured in our cast were Ben Wright, Eve McVeigh, Robert Boone, Sally Cassell and Byron Cage. Your announcer is Don Stamp, Douglas Webb, Angus representing Bette Davis, Gary Merrill and Emlyn Williams in the motion picture Another Man's Poison. Listen again next week and every week to other exciting cases involving the law enforcement adventures of the special agents of our federal government. For they are the Silence. There's more from Murder by Experts, the Silent Men Case Closed and all of the other podcasts at the website relicradio.com you'll find our Shout Cast stream there as well, with even more old time radio lots to listen to there, all made possible by your support. Visit donate. Relicradio.com Check out our downloadable sets for certain donation amounts, though any amount is always appreciated and helpful. And thanks to those who have helped us out over the past 19 years. And thanks for joining me this week. I'll be back through the week with Relic Radio Thrillers, the Horror, Strange Tales, More Science Fiction, the Relic Radio show and next Wednesday with our next episode of Case Closed.