
Midnight Cab 03 - The Horse-Faced Man
Loading summary
Narrator/Announcer
If you're the purchasing manager at a manufacturing plant, you know having a trusted partner makes all the difference. That's why, hands down, you count on Grainger for auto reordering. With on time restocks, your team will have the cut resistant gloves they need at the start of their shift. And you can end your day knowing they've got safety well in hand. Call 1-800-GRAINGER Click grainger.com or just stop by Grainger for the ones who get it done.
Narrator/Host
Join us now for Midnight Cab. The Mystery of the Horse Faced man.
Walker
October 3, 1991. I can remember when they put the first stop light on the main street in Big River. Everybody complained it backed up traffic too much. Around five o' clock on a Friday night, there could be as many as five cars waiting for the light to change. When I was a kid, I liked to sit on my bike beside the Optimus bench downtown and listen to the old timers like Andy McAndrew and Rolly Miles and Jake Bresso. With only one hand, a man could die breathing all these exhaust fumes. Funny how life works out. Walker. Hey, Krista, where are you? Young and Gerard. It's like a circus down here.
Krista
Hey, it's Friday night.
Walker
Yeah.
Krista
Are you homesick, Walker?
Walker
Nope.
Krista
Corner at Dundas and Sherburne. Guy will be standing there.
Walker
Doing what?
Narrator/Host
God knows.
Walker
Actually, there were only two places you could be in Big river at quarter to one. At home or not at home. Every kid knew that. Either you waited in your bed for the sound of your father to finally open the door, bang around downstairs and stagger off to bed, or he was already home. That was the difference. How are you tonight, sunshine? I'm okay. You call a cab? I had a pickup. Yeah, I called it. Drive up the street, sunshine, until they tell you to stop. You get all kinds. This was one of them. I looked in the mirror. He was looking back at me, smiling. A big man with a horse face and bright eyes. Big horse teeth and small horse ears. I thought to myself, this is the night I get killed. I could see it in the paper. Cabby murdered, throat slit. Mother furious. I told him not to go to the city. She said, anywhere in particular? No. So you're one of Pietelli's drivers, eh? Yeah. You know him? He's a great guy, Mr. Piatelli. You have to get used to his joking, that's all. At first I didn't know whether he was mad at me or what because he was always gearing me around. But then I got used to him and I figured.
Krista
Well.
Walker
Shut up. What? You heard me right. See this here? Yeah. Give it to my friend Alfonso. Tell him a special delivery for the angel. Pull over. How old are you? 19. What's your name? Walker. Yeah? Maybe you and me, we could have breakfast together sometime. He smiled a weird smile at me, like Hannibal the Cannibal or somebody, and got out. Once in a while, you pick up a fare when they're gone. You want to roll down all the windows. With this guy, I wanted to get out of the cab myself and set it on fire. Mr. Piazelli? Special delivery.
Mr. Pietelli
What's this?
Walker
A friend of yours? He told me to give it to you.
Mr. Pietelli
Oh, yeah? Money?
Walker
I don't know.
Mr. Pietelli
What friend?
Walker
He didn't say. He just handed me that envelope. He wasn't going anywhere in particular.
Mr. Pietelli
Oh, no.
Walker
What is it, Mr. Pilli?
Mr. Pietelli
Who gave you this?
Walker
He didn't say. He was a big guy. He said it was a special delivery for the angel.
Mr. Pietelli
Mother Mary. All the saints in it? All God.
Walker
Mr. Pietelli wasn't looking all that well, but he moved his 300 pounds faster than I had ever seen him move before. Straight up the wooden floor, flight of stairs, over the garage floor to his apartment, opened the heavy green metal door and slammed it shut. He stayed up there for three days? Well, that's what we all thought. Nobody saw him go up there? Oh, geez, I don't know.
Krista
Go up there?
Walker
What good would it do? Everybody's been knocking on his door for two days. Even his bookie. He didn't come out for his bookie. He's not gonna come out. I don't mean that.
Krista
I mean get in somehow. Break in if you have to.
Walker
Oh, geez. Maybe he just wants some privacy.
Krista
Walker, are you stupid or what? It's been three days. Well, you saw what he was like. I'm gonna call 91 1.
Walker
Okay, I'll go up. I'll go.
Krista
What's the matter, anyway? You've been running around helping other people out. Now someone you actually know is in trouble.
Walker
Well, he's a guy. It's his place, it's his business. If he wanted help, he would.
Krista
What, so if he were a woman, it'd be different?
Walker
Ah, yeah.
Krista
Know something?
Walker
What?
Krista
That's so dumb. Now, would you get up there?
Walker
The thing about Krista, you never have to wonder what she's thinking. Krista? She's about a hundred pounds, maybe. Sits in her wheelchair on a kind of angle, looking sweet and fragile till you get to know her. I knocked on both doors. The one in the garage and the one in the back of the building that once used to lead to a rusty old fire escape but now opened up on mid air in a two story drop. No answer. So I stood on top of the ladder in the dark, wrapped an oily rag around my hand and punched in the back door window. Hello? Mr. Pietelli? Are you in there? Mr. Piatelli? Mr. Pietelli? No. 300 pounds of enraged Pietelli. Nothing. Just really eerily silent. What does the apartment of a man who drives a 1959 pink Cadillac and wears four gold chains around his neck look like I expected? I don't know. A television that covered one wall. A well stocked bar with leather stool, shag carpeting. Maybe A bedroom decorated in black and silver, with a circular bed and a mirror on the ceiling. And pink lights, somehow. Pink lights. It didn't look like that at all. The outside door opened into the kitchen and it was bright and clean, tidy. His office downstairs was a mess. Maybe there were two Pietellis. Hello? There were heavy curtains across the window in the living room. And massive furniture sitting in the gloom that looked old and polished and plush. But that's not what caught my eye. What caught my eye were the shelves on the walls. Rows and rows of shelves. And sitting on the shelves, staring back at me, glowing palely in the dark, rows and rows of dolls. Beautiful China dolls looking very old in yellowing costumes. A few miniature baby buggies made of wicker. And children's toys made out of tin. Mr. Piatelli was a doll collector. I looked into the bedroom, switched on the light. A few clothes were strewn over the bed, as if he had sorted through some things, packing in a hurry. And beside the bed, on an old worn rug that looked to me like it came from India. A piece of a photograph. I picked it up. Some older woman's face squinting into the sun. I looked in the wastebasket. Inside it, the crumpled envelope I had given to Mr. Pietelli from the guy in the cab. And more pieces of the photograph. I fitted them together. The woman was standing in a backyard beside an old wooden fence. Two young boys were standing beside her. One maybe 18, the other 12. They had their arms around her. Their mother probably. There was an alley behind them, a tangle of telephone poles and wires. The woman had an apron on. It was blowing a little in the wind. They all looked happy.
Krista
But his car's still here. It's parked right outside. He never goes anywhere without that pink Cadillac. It's famous.
Walker
Maybe that's why.
Krista
But no one Saw him leave.
Walker
Well, that's possible. He could have gone out the other way. Through that room where they play poker and out the side.
Krista
So, what's it like up there, Walker?
Walker
Well, it's different.
Krista
Yeah, so, like what?
Walker
He collects dolls.
Mr. Pietelli
What?
Krista
What kind of dolls?
Walker
Doll dolls. You know, like little girl dolls, but old ones. Antiques. He's a doll collector.
Krista
Alfonso Piatelli collects dolls?
Walker
Yeah.
Krista
Come on, Walker. I've known him since. Since I was three.
Walker
No, really. And his place, it's nice. Old furniture, too, like they've been made by craftsmen. He likes old stuff.
Krista
Alfonso Piatelli. Why didn't he tell me he liked dolls?
Walker
I don't know. Maybe he thought you'd laugh. I know you wouldn't. But maybe he thought you would. You know?
Krista
Stupid stoop. Where is he anyway? What's wrong with him? Walker?
Walker
I showed Krista the pieced together photograph. It didn't mean anything to her either. A mother, two sons. It looked old somehow. Maybe the late 50s. The clothes, the leaning old telephone poles. The photograph itself before the 60s. Anyway, the oldest boy had sideburns and his hair was combed up in two greasy rolls that met and fell over the middle of his forehead. And huge ears. Mr. Pietelli has big ears?
Krista
It's right in here. I make up 12 post data checks every. Every September 1st.
Walker
How about a brother?
Krista
Never mentioned one to me. Okay, here's his mother's file. Loretta Sofia Pietelli talks about her a lot. He calls her Mama.
Walker
That explains the dolls.
Krista
Walker, what do you call your mother?
Walker
Geronimo.
Krista
Really?
Walker
Well, not to her face. It was just between me and my sisters.
Krista
Oh. How many sisters?
Walker
Six of them. Oh.
Krista
Well, that explains a lot about you, too.
Walker
What do you mean?
Krista
Well, nothing.
Walker
Come on, what do you mean? Sometimes Krista can be a giant pain. Especially when she gets that look on her face like she knows something you don't. Even though she doesn't. Though you're not sure. And she won't say anything more so you can prove it. And it drives you crazy. I know that look. I grew up with that look. It drives you crazy.
Rest Home Manager
Yes. Mr. Devereaux, Mrs. Piatelli has been a resident of ours for many years. But I'm afraid I can't let you see her.
Walker
Oh, why not?
Rest Home Manager
I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to tell you. Why not? Are you a relative?
Walker
No, I. Well, I work for her son. Alfonso Pia Delli?
Rest Home Manager
Yes.
Walker
And? Well, we haven't seen him for a few days, and a bunch of us were worried he went away kind of abruptly, and I thought maybe his mother might know something about it.
Rest Home Manager
Well, Mrs. Piatelli is not well. She. She hasn't been for some time. I'm quite certain she wouldn't know the whereabouts of her son.
Walker
Oh. Well, if you see him, could you tell him to call the garage? Let someone know what's going on? Okay. Thanks.
Rest Home Manager
Mr. Devereaux. I'll walk you to your car. A cab.
Walker
Like I said, I work for Mr. Pietelli. He was here, wasn't he? I mean, in the last couple of days.
Rest Home Manager
How did you know that?
Walker
Because you didn't say he wasn't.
Rest Home Manager
The truth is, I'm feeling somewhat concerned about missing Mr. Pietelli myself. And if you can help him. He was terribly agitated when he arrived here. Gave me strict instructions that absolutely no one was to be allowed in to see his mother. He wanted to hire a security service for her. Well, I told him we could hardly allow that. So he settled for a 24 hour nursing service so that someone would be at her bedside at all times.
Walker
Why?
Rest Home Manager
He wouldn't say. But that's not the worst of it. When I walked him back to the parking lot, there was something smeared across his windshield. It was. It was blood.
Walker
Mr. Devereaux, what did Mr. Pia tell you?
Rest Home Manager
Nothing. At first I thought he was going to faint. He leaned on the car, and then he said, some damn kids must be playing a joke. Fake blood. And then he laughed. But it was rather a ghastly laugh. I brought him some water and a rag, and he washed it off. Made me swear to look after his mother. And then he drove away. I know blood when I see it, Mr. Devereux.
Walker
Perhaps it was animal blood.
Rest Home Manager
I don't know, but it was blood.
Walker
It was almost dark by the time I arrived back at the garage. I took a walk around the back of the building. I thought I might have another look through Mr. Pietelli's apartment. Not really sure what I was looking for. What could be more ordinary than a couple of kids and their mother happy together in their own backyard? Alfonso and his mama, Loretta. And who? A younger brother.
Krista
I'm calling the cops.
Walker
What for?
Krista
Well, for one thing, there's been a B and E right over our heads.
Walker
Well, that's not all. Whoever it was, he sat the dolls in a circle on the floor, all their faces and eyes methodically broken, and he sprinkled blood on them.
Krista
That does it.
Walker
Krista, wait. What for? Because Mr. Pietelli didn't call the cops himself. And because I think We've still got time. If this guy wanted to get Mr. Pietelli, he could have got him here at the garage or at the nursing home. He was there too, but he didn't. There's something else is going on.
Krista
Like what?
Walker
Like I don't know yet. Terrific. But Mr. Pietelli does know. If we could find him, maybe we could help him out.
Narrator/Host
He's scared.
Krista
I'm scared. You'd be scared too, if you were normal.
Walker
Where would he go if he wanted to hide out?
Krista
I don't know.
Walker
Well, think about it. Okay?
Krista
Okay.
Walker
Does he own a cottage?
Krista
No.
Walker
Someplace out of town? No. Some relative somewhere.
Krista
Well, of course he has relatives somewhere. Everybody has relatives somewhere. He owns some places in town.
Walker
He does?
Krista
Yeah. He owns a row house and a couple of detached ones around Queen and Broadview. But he rents them out. I enter the rent checks every month. Oh, Walker. One of those places. There's some young guys in it. They were about three months behind on their rent. Alfonso said he was going to kick them out. They were wrecking the place, he said.
Walker
Then it could be empty.
Krista
Now it is empty.
Walker
I parked the car about three blocks away from the address Krista had given me in case I was being followed. Sat in the cab for a while, rolled a smoke, stuck in a tape and watched. It was about one in the morning. Somebody's father staggered by, wending his slow, crooked way home. That was about it. No parked car lurking in the shadows behind me. I got out. Mr. Pietelli, are you in there? It's me, Walker. Mr. Piatelli? Mr. Pia Telli. I stood on the back stoop of the house Mr. Pietelli owned. The skeleton of what had once been a truck was sitting in the backyard. The grass was almost up to my waist. Mr. Pietelli? The door opened slowly, very slowly. Then this large white hand floated out of the darkness towards me. It was large enough to be attached to £300. Mr. P. Suddenly the hand had me by the shirt and jerked me in through the door. Like a minnow being jerked out of a fish pond. Yeah, it's me. It's me. Turn on the light.
Mr. Pietelli
What, are you crazy? I hate turning on this light for nobody.
Walker
A bulky shadow moving down a hallway. I followed him. There was a faint glow at the end of the hall. Mr. Pietelli turned into her room.
Mr. Pietelli
Come in here. Don't say nothing to shut up.
Walker
He had nailed some canvas drop sheets over the windows. There was a painter scaffold and a couple of buckets of paint. A candle Burning the stubs of several others. Pizza boxes, beer cans, cigarette butts. And graffiti all over the two walls that hadn't been painted.
Mr. Pietelli
You see this? I'm a hunted animal, that's what I am. How'd you get here?
Walker
Filled the Captain.
Mr. Pietelli
Park my bloody cab in front of this house, I'll kill you.
Walker
No, no, no, I didn't. It's a few blocks away. I was careful. Nobody followed me.
Mr. Pietelli
Yeah, you hope. I hope.
Walker
Then Mr. Pietelli raised up his hand. There was a revolver in it, the size of a suitcase.
Mr. Pietelli
He comes in here, it's a dead man. I mean, that's all there is to it. A dead man. How'd you find me?
Walker
Christa.
Mr. Pietelli
Yeah, of course. Krista. What a mouth.
Walker
She's really worried, Mr. Pietelli. We're all worried. Whatever's wrong, we want to help.
Mr. Pietelli
Yeah. If he hurts Mama, what'll I do? What'll I do?
Walker
Oh, she's all right. I was there this afternoon.
Mr. Pietelli
No kidding. Oh, that's good. I mean, that. That's good.
Walker
Mr. Pietelli, I think we've got some time to sort things out. He was just threatening that photograph. The blood on the windshield. The dolls.
Mr. Pietelli
What?
Walker
Oh, somebody got into your apartment. I think it was the same guy. He. Well, he broke your dolls. Mr. Pietelli looked at me, his face as large and white as the moon.
Mr. Pietelli
You saw my dolls?
Walker
Yeah, they're terrific. It's a great collection. It must have taken you years to, you know, collect. I think they're great. And the toys and things. He broke their heads. Mr. Piatelli just stared at me for a moment. Then suddenly he turned away. One huge, meaty hand began to rub away at his eye. He kept his face turned for a long while. I didn't know what to do. Maybe you'll be able to fix them.
Mr. Pietelli
35 years. Collection takes me 35 years. The first one, my little sister's. She died of scarlet fever. Four years old, so I kept it. Then I just started to buy things. Toys, things. The more I bought, the more I got interested in their history. Stuff like that, you know? You understand?
Walker
Sure.
Mr. Pietelli
Yeah. I could be collecting cars, anything. So he trashed them, huh?
Walker
Yeah.
Mr. Pietelli
Yeah.
Walker
Mr. Pietelli, that photograph of you and your mother, who else is in it? The younger guy.
Mr. Pietelli
What are you. What, you crazy? That's not me. That's not my mother. That's him, for God's sake. His mother.
Walker
Whose?
Mr. Pietelli
I'm gonna need somebody on the outside. I need a go between. How about it, Walker? Could you do that for me?
Walker
Yeah, I could.
Mr. Pietelli
Okay. Hogan. It's Mouse. Hogan. His mother, his younger brother. We all grew up in the neighborhood. This one, this was my old home. My mama's home. We had a gang, a bunch of kids. It was Mouse's gang. I wasn't really in it, but I had to be in it, you understand? I mean, you're in or they kill you. That's how you think when you're a kid, right? Mouse called me angel because he knew I didn't like what was going on. Oh, you couldn't call him Mouse, though. Big Ears.
Walker
Big Ears.
Mr. Pietelli
Yeah, Mickey Mouse behind his back. He was mean. He was crazy mean. He was nuts. We used to hang around the hotels and parks, you know, roll drunks. One night, we're emptying out this wino's pockets, he wakes up and he grabs the Mouse, and the guy's as strong as a bear. You never believe it. When we're kids, we run. Now he smashes Mouse's face into a wall and bloodies him up. A little later that night, I'm laying up on the roof. I mean, it's so hot. And I see the Mouse. He's climbing over the backyard fence. He's got something in his hand. Out of curiosity. I follow him. He walks through the park. He finds the same guy. Oh, he's passed out good now, sleeping on the grass. Mouse stands over him. He looks around. I can still see his face. His face, it looks weird, like he's high on something. And then he pours stuff out of the can he has in his hands all over the guy, from his head to his feet. And the guy begins to stir. He sits up. Mouse lights a match. And the guy just explodes. I mean, it lights up the whole park. This guy never even made it to his knees. He just rolls a little and he lies still. Your Mouse disappears. And me, I run too. And the cops come around. They question everybody in the neighborhood. And I can't stand it, what I saw. So I tell them I have to go to court. You know, the whole thing. Mouse is 19. They send him away. Manslaughter. 20 years. 12 certain. And one night, his mother, she takes an overdose of pills. Kills herself. It's him in that photograph. His mama. His brother. This is what he gives me. This is what he's telling me.
Walker
So the guy in the cab, it's Hogan.
Mr. Pietelli
Every year, every Christmas, that maniac sends me a card. From prison to the Angel. He kills some guy in a riot. More years, more cards. I wait for Them like a knife in the gut. Monsieur. No. God. He's out.
Walker
Mr. Pietelli, listen.
Mr. Pietelli
I leave here, I'm a dead man. You. You do something for me, okay? His brother Terry, he's a gambler. I know the guy. He's okay. He's in his right mind. I'll send you to him. All right? You tell him what's going on. Maybe Terry can stop you.
Walker
What's that? What?
Mr. Pietelli
Shh. That.
Walker
I don't hear. Shh. Mr. Pietelli put one hand up and bent over the waist, cocking his ear towards the hall. We both stood frozen for a moment, straining to hear. Mr. Pietelli crept out of the room, his revolver leading the way, and began to move silently down the hallway towards the dark kitchen. I followed him, his huge bulk moving silently through the gloom. Then he stopped. It was coming from outside, by the door. Mr. Pietelli took one more step into the kitchen. Suddenly there was a shadow at the kitchen window. Behind the curtains, a face. Then pointed ears, an arching back tail.
Mr. Pietelli
She's hungry to go nuts.
Walker
Oh, God.
Mr. Pietelli
That's what's happening. I'm going nuts in here.
Walker
Mr. Pilli, listen, I'll be your go between, I promise. But just let me make one call first.
Mr. Pietelli
Yeah? To who?
Walker
To the police.
Krista
Ap cap.
Walker
Okay.
Krista
290 Duncan.
Walker
Right.
Krista
Apartment. Okay. Eddie, you there? Where are you now? Good. 290 Duncan, side door. Yeah.
Walker
Hi, Krishna. How's Mr. Pietelli?
Krista
Okay, I guess. He's trying to glue his dolls back together. I'm supposed to be helping. Look at all these broken heads.
Walker
At least he's not hiding them in his apartment like they're something to be ashamed of.
Narrator/Host
Yeah.
Krista
I still don't understand why he didn't just call the cops.
Walker
I don't know. He called them once a long time ago. It cost him a lot, I think. Funny how people seem to be and how they really are inside, eh?
Mr. Pietelli
Right.
Walker
Yeah.
Krista
Anyway, that guy, that crazy guy. How'd you know that he wasn't Mouse Hogan?
Walker
Ears. Ears? Ears. The guy in the cab had little horse ears. Hogan's ears stick out like sails. You could see it in the photograph. Ears don't change much, do they?
Krista
Guess not. But there could have been two of them. The guy in the cab and Hogan.
Walker
And I just figured, what do killers do? They might catch you first, then try to scare you. But they don't scare you first, then try to catch you. Didn't make sense. So that. That's why I called Inspector Kiss. He checked. Mouse Hogan died peacefully. In prison last November.
Krista
And the guy in the cab, that.
Walker
Prison buddy of Hogan's, he knew the story. When he got out this summer, he went straight to Hogan's young brother, Terry. They cooked it up between them. After I talked to Inspector Kiss, he wanted me to meet with Terry Hogan.
Rest Home Manager
So I did.
Walker
And Hogan said, yeah, I could call off my brother. Cost PIA Telly 200,000. He wanted cash now. Even gave me an account number for Mr. Pietelli to wire the money into a scam. I think Mr. Pietelli would have gone for it too.
Krista
So now what happens?
Walker
Nothing. Mr. Pietelli called Terry. They had a long talk. Then he told Inspector Kiss he wasn't going to press charges.
Mr. Pietelli
Hey, Walker, you got a big mouth too, eh? You got nothing to do, the two of you?
Krista
Yeah, I'm fixing your dolls.
Mr. Pietelli
Yeah, well, here's some more pieces. Goes with this one. What are you looking at?
Walker
Nothing.
Mr. Pietelli
Aren't you supposed to be driving a cab or something?
Walker
Too early.
Krista
Hey, Alfonso, why didn't you charge them? They were scamming you.
Mr. Pietelli
Yeah, well, like I said to Terry, you know, a lot of years, the Pietellis, the Hogans. Now we're even. And now it's over.
Narrator/Host
You have just heard Midnight Cab Episode 3 the Mystery of the Horse Faced man written by James W. Nicholl. Featured in the cast were David Ferry as Walker and Jacqueline Samuda as Krista, with Howard Jerome as Mr. Piatelli, you heard Frank Moore as Whip, and the rest home manager was Dennis o'. Connor. Music for this series is composed by Milan Kimlica and the series cast and consultant is Linda Grierson. Our recording engineer is Joanne Anka with sound effects by Matt Wilcott. The series production assistant is Nancy Dow. Midnight Cab is produced and directed in Toronto by Bill.
Walker
Sam.
Podcast: Harold’s Old Time Radio
Host: Harold’s Old Time Radio
Date: January 17, 2026
Episode Theme:
This episode of "Midnight Cab" delves into a dark, atmospheric mystery involving cab driver Walker, his colleague Krista, and their enigmatic boss, Mr. Pietelli, after a bizarre encounter with a stranger known as the "Horse-Faced Man." The story explores themes of loyalty, trauma from the past, and the rippling effects of old crimes in a close-knit urban community.
"He smiled a weird smile at me, like Hannibal the Cannibal or somebody... I thought to myself, this is the night I get killed."
"Rows and rows of shelves... rows and rows of dolls. Beautiful China dolls looking very old in yellowing costumes."
"Big Ears... Mickey Mouse behind his back. He was mean. He was crazy mean. He was nuts."
"Yeah, well, like I said to Terry, you know, a lot of years, the Pietellis, the Hogans. Now we're even. And now it's over."
The dialogue is raw, real, and steeped in working-class grit. The narration is reflective, with moments of dark humor and bittersweet nostalgia. Characters are sharply drawn, with Walker’s internal monologue providing warmth and depth. Krista is blunt but caring, Mr. Pietelli is larger-than-life yet vulnerable.
The episode is an evocative, tightly woven radio play that uses the lens of a cab driver’s everyday life to explore guilt, bitterness, forgiveness, and the complex interplay between what we show the world and what we hide. Dramatic tension mounts as secrets are uncovered, but the resolution is full of empathy and understanding—a testament to the strengths of classic radio drama.