Come in. Welcome. I'm E .G. Marshall, opening
the door to another tale of mystery and suspense,
inviting you to open your ears and your mind
to the world of terrifying imagination. You're
about to be taken on an unusual museum tour.
There won't be any Mona Lisa's on this tour,
no Greek vases or Roman statuary. because this
establishment specializes in only one kind of
exhibit. And that's why our story is called The
Murder Museum. You may have been to a murder
museum like the one in our story, a house of
wax, where the most brutal crimes of the century
are recreated and paraffined for the wide -eyed
enjoyment of the public. But now you're going
to have the unique opportunity of hearing one
of the most shocking exhibits of all. speak for
itself. John, please believe me. He means nothing
to me. I swear it. That's why he was in your
bedroom, Arda. Is that why? Please, think of
our little boy. Look at him since you're frightening
him to death. Death? That's right, Arda. Museum
was written especially for the Mystery Theater
by Henry Slesser and stars Michael Wager. It
is sponsored in part by Anheuser -Busch Incorporated,
Brewers of Budweiser, and by the Kellogg Company,
makers of Kellogg's Special K Cereal. I'll be
back shortly with Act One. begins inside the
murder museum itself, the home of Professor Rafael
Gallinari's House of Horrors. There's a fair
-sized crowd in the museum today. As usual, they
listen in fascination to the words of their tour
guide as he takes them from one bloody exhibit
to another, recreating for them the terrible
crimes which have immortalized these criminals
and their victims. There is one person in the
crowd who seems reluctant to listen to his words,
who hangs back and shields her pretty eyes from
the sight of the wax images. Her name is Lisa
Brandon. To this day, no man knows the true identity
of the madman known as Jack the Ripper, but the
theory persists that he may well have been a
physician or at least a medical student. Judging
from the skill with which he wielded the instrument,
UC clutched in this hand as he attacks the terrified
young woman. And that, ladies and gentlemen,
concludes the tour of Professor Gallinari's Murder
Museum. Thank you for your patronage, and please
tell your friends about us. Sir, excuse me? Yes,
miss. Could I ask you a question? Yes, yes, of
course. I was curious about the Raymond exhibit,
but I see that you haven't opened it to the public.
No, no, Miss. The Raymond exhibit is still closed
for repairs. Well, the truth is, it's the only
reason I came to the murder museum. I wanted
to see the Raymond. Oh, well, I'm sorry. The
exhibit won't be open for another week, at least.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going out for some
coffee. But even if it isn't completely ready,
I wonder if you'd mind showing it to me. Oh,
I'm sorry, miss. I can't do that. Oh, I came
a long way to see you, all the way from San Francisco.
It would be a terrible disappointment. Look,
I'm willing to pay you. No, please. Put that
money away, miss. Why is it so important for
you to see the Raymond? You, uh, any connection
with the family? Yes, in a way. I knew Vincent
Raymond. I met him when he lived in San Francisco.
I see. Look... You said you were going out for
coffee. Could I come with you? Well, sure, I
just go to this little coffee shop down the street,
but you're welcome to come along. So you knew
Vincent Raymond? You an artist, too? No, not
really. But my brother owned a small art gallery
on Green Street. And sold Raymond's paintings?
Well, actually, no, he... He didn't really care
for Vincent's work. It was so dark and gloomy.
Frightening, really. But he felt sorry for him,
and he loaned him some money, and sometimes he
let him help out in the gallery. That's how you
met him? Yes, that's right. I came home from
college and I met Vincent. I didn't know anything
about him. Meaning, uh, about his parents? It
took Vincent a long time before he was willing
to talk to me. Vincent. Yeah? Isn't that music
a little loud? Sorry, I'll turn it down. Are
you angry with me or something? No, why? Why
should I be? I don't know. You've hardly said
two words to me tonight. All through dinner,
we just... I was trying to digest that rotten
food. Never told me that restaurant was worth
trying. Must've had a secret death wish. I didn't
mind it. Had only one thing to recommend it.
It was cheap. That's the only criterion I have,
you know? I didn't complain, did I? No, you never
complain. You just suffer in silence. You think
I'm some kind of gifted, starving artist who
has to be tolerated for his poverty. Oh, you're
so hard on yourself, Vincent. Let me tell you
something, Lisa. I'm starving. But I'm not an
artist. Well, let's not talk about it tonight.
Let's just relax. You know I can't paint. Your
brother knows it. I fill all my canvases with
memories of my own nightmares. Only you cannot
call them art. Vincent, why do you paint in such
a gloomy style? I've never seen you paint with
anything that had any color or lightness. All
those blacks and... grays and slashes of red.
Oh, I know I'm no sort of expert, but can't you
talk about your work with me? There's a reason,
Fort Leza. There's a reason. Well, what? I told
you my... my nightmares, they're all visions
in black and gray and slashes of red. Well, then
if you won't talk about your paintings... Why
not tell me about your nightmares you wouldn't
enjoy hearing about them rather but it it I Only
one Nightmare just one I have it virtually every
night Sometimes it follows me into the daylight
I Can close my eyes and there it is For years
I've tried to destroy it by painting it not its
details just it's colors but the therapy hasn't
worked please tell me about it i've never told
anyone before but why not i suppose i never met
the person i wanted to confide it maybe now i
have but if i'm going to do that this music has
to stop my mother's maiden name might mean nothing
to you but at one time many years ago. It was
famous among people who loved the theater. She
was an actress. Her name was Ada Crim. Ada Crim?
I think I do know that name, Vincent. She was
born and raised in England. She was known as
the beautiful Ada. She didn't have a very long
acting career because she kept her success on
the stage with an even more... successful marriage
she became the bride of John Lloyd Raymond your
father yes my father he was a wealthy man my
grandfather had left him here to one of the largest
glass manufacturing companies in the West mirrored
glass was his specialty it seemed very appropriate
to have our house full of mirrors maybe that's
how it all started that problem what problem
Well, you know, the way mirrors are. At least
after a few years go by, they stop being kind.
And when that happened to my mother, she had
to do something about it. Something to prove
that she was still a beautiful Ada. No matter
what the mirrors were beginning to say. And what
did she do, Vincent? She took lovers. Lovers
are the best kind of mirrors for a bored rich
woman. Were you the only child? Yeah. I was her
only child. At first, I was a pampered little
boy, one of her favorite playthings. Then she
became bored with me, too. She stopped noticing
that I was around. Maybe that's why she never
made any attempts to hide her actions from me.
She simply didn't know I was there. Vincent,
you saw these men? I... I think I said enough.
what Vincent's dream was all about? Not that
I didn't know. But you could have guessed, I
suppose, if you knew the history of Ada Crimm
and John Raymond. Well, yes. I became curious
enough to learn the history. I had a friend who
worked in a newspaper, and she checked into the
dead files and found the story for me, the whole
terrible story. But I didn't tell Vincent that
I knew about it. It was obvious that he didn't
want anyone to know the truth. But one day it
emerged. Oh. Well, it was a beautiful spring
day, the first really warm day of the season,
and Vincent and I went for a walk. Vincent, why
don't we walk down to Deeradilly Square? We could
do some window shopping, maybe have some lunch.
Considering the state of my finances, we'd better
window shop the restaurants, too. Oh, no, I have
money. Good for you. Are you going to be stubborn
again? I'll tell you what, Vincent. I'll buy
myself some lunch if you want to split a hamburger
with me. You need a lesson on how to get away
from her! Crazy. Why? What made you do it, Vincent?
You could have killed that man. I couldn't stop
myself when I saw what he was doing and what
he was going to do. But they were man and wife.
Yeah. Man and wife. So were my parents. Was that
the reason? Was it because... you saw your mother
and father, Paul? You think that's all they did?
Don't you know the truth yet? Yes, Vincent, I
do know. I didn't want to tell you before, but...
I know that you're a... father murdered your
mother and you know how he murdered her my father
came home early one night a full day earlier
than he was expected he walked into my mother's
bedroom and that man was there might have killed
him too but he was fast on his feet we lived
in a very old -fashioned house these are quaint
old -fashioned Victorian manner the kind of still
had gas lamps on the wall and fire axes. I used
to hear my father joking to his friends about
the fire axe on the wall. Don't talk about it.
When I saw my mother, he ripped the axe off the
wall and he used it. Please. You read about it,
Lisa, but I saw it. You what? I was six years
old, a terrified six -year -old who came to find
out what all the noise was about. I saw the whole
thing happen from the first stroke of the axe
to the final blow. Now you know what my nightmare
is all about, all the blacks and greys and slashes
of red. Oh, you poor man! Alright. Now, I've
told you the whole story, so... Maybe now you'll
know why I can't see you again. What? Don't come
near me again, do you hear me? Vincent! Don't
come near me... ever! It's been said that the
mind is like a haunted house, where the ghosts
of the past rattle their chains and cry out their
suffering. Of course, that's why we have our
psychiatrists and psychoanalysts, and these days,
even our exorcists, the house cleaners of the
mind. But what will it take to free Vincent Raymond
of his demons? Or can he ever be freed? We'll
find out more when I return shortly with Act
Two. And now, Act Two of the Murder Museum. Lisa
Brandon has come all the way from San Francisco
to see the Raymond exhibit. but she seems to
be having a hard time talking the museum guide
into allowing her a private showing. However,
she hasn't given up. Yes. I was in love with
Vincent Ray Linden. I was terribly unhappy when
he walked out of my life. You mean you never
saw him again? Oh yes, I saw him again, but things
weren't the same between us. He was... tormented
by the memory of what he had seen and it changed
his life. The dreams began in the orphanage.
They began there and they never stopped. I woke
up screaming in horror every time the dream came
to me. I became an outcast without friends, without
sympathy. Oh Vincent, I'm so sorry. when I realized
that my only hope for any sort of life was keeping
my secret. But you're not a child now. I'm older,
Lisa, but nothing's changed for me. Oh, yeah.
There's one thing that's changed. What's that?
I'm giving up my so -called art. I'm going to
work for a job. Well, I'm sorry, Vincent, is
I did think you had talent. I've got to get some
money to live on my... Talent won't provide that.
Well, I thought you had some savings. They're
all gone after that lawsuit. What lawsuit? That
man I beat up on the street. He sued me for damages.
He won, of course. His wife stood up in court
and verified that I'd beaten him up with no provocation
at all. Nothing like a wife's loyalty, is there?
But Vincent, why didn't you let me know? I would
have been a witness for you. Oh, it wouldn't
have mattered. Well, how are you living now?
Well, on the welfare rules, of course, but don't
worry about me. Look. If I can lend you any money,
it won't... No, no. I have borrowed enough from
you and your brother. I don't want any more money
or sympathy. Just leave me alone, Lisa. Can't
you get that through your head? Leave me alone!
He did find a job eventually, waiting on tables
down at Fisherman's Wharf. He seemed to sink
lower and lower every day. My brother and I tried
to help him all we could, but he refused to take
any more charity. I tried to sell his paintings
by putting them in the window of our little gallery.
But there was only one person who seemed interested
in Vincent's gloomy efforts. Hello? May I help
you? Yes. I have been looking at the paintings
in your window. trying to make out the artist's
name. Oh, his name is Raymond. Raymond. Would
that be Vincent Raymond, by any chance? Yes,
it is. Did you like the work? Oh, it's interesting,
interesting. I'm an artist myself, but that sort
of thing, all those dark colors, it doesn't really
appeal to me. Oh, I see. However... I am interested
in the artist. I wonder if you could tell me
how to reach him. Is he a local resident? Yes.
He lives in San Francisco. Would you mind telling
me your name? Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Here is
my card. Rafael Galanari. You might say that
I am a portrait artist. Oh, and is that why you
want to meet Vincent? to paint his portrait.
Something like that. Now will you help me? All
right. I'll tell you where you can reach him.
Who is it? Rafael Gallinari. Please open the
door, Mr. Raymond. What do you want? May I speak
to you for a few moments, Mr. Raymond? I don't
know you. I thought perhaps the young lady in
the art gallery might have mentioned my name
to you. What young lady? Oh, you mean Lisa? May
I come in, please? It's about a rather important
matter. Oh. All right, come in. What is it you
want, Mr.? What? What's that name again? Galinari.
Please, my car. What are you, some kind of bill
collector? No, Mr. Raymond. It's a matter of
act. I'm an artist, like yourself. Tough luck
for you, Mr. Gallinari, if you're an artist like
me. Take a look around. You see any canvases
in this place? I understand that you are working
at the restaurant these days. That's right. Listen,
if it's my work you're interested in, they're
all at the gallery. Let me be honest with you,
Mr. Raymond. It isn't your work I care about.
It's mine. Yours? That is correct. You see, I
am a portrait artist, a sculptor actually. So
what? This is how we differ in our talents. Yours
is dependent on the quality of imagination while
mine is devoted to verisimilitude. If you would
permit me, perhaps I can buy us both some dinner
and we can talk about our art. If you hadn't
mentioned dinner, Mr. Gallimari, I would have
said no. You know how it is with an artist, you
know how we become obsessed sometimes, obsessed
with a certain idea, a certain passion for a
subject. No, Mr. Gallinari, I wouldn't know.
I lost all my passion for art a long time ago.
Ah, but if you had the inspiration, if there
was one thing you wanted to paint more than anything
else in the world... Believe me, the passion
would come flooding back like the tide. And...
Do you... Do you have such a subject in mind?
Yes. I do. A subject which has haunted me for
years. More years than I wish to count. And this
has something to do with me? Everything to do
with you. Will you have another glass of wine?
Sure. Since you're buying. You see, Mr. Raymond,
I am contemplating a certain work, a sculptural
project, and one which would be impossible without
you. How could that be? In order to answer that
question, I have to bring up a subject which
may be painful to you. A lot of subjects are
painful to me, Mr. Galanari. This one, I think.
has left the deepest... Wait a minute. Yes, Mr.
Raymond. I mean your parents. How do you know
who I am? At least I'll tell you... No, no, no,
no, no. No, I assure you, the young woman at
the gallery said nothing at all to me about you.
And how did you know? Damn it! Because I've made
it my business to find you. Believe me, it's
taken a very long time. The last address I had
for you was in the Midwest. Then I ran across
one of your paintings in a traveling exhibit
the moorland exhibit. Yeah, that was the only
show I've been in and Nothing sold. I found out
that you were in San Francisco from the proprietors
of the exhibit Finally, I saw your work in a
little gallery on Green Street. Your style is
unmistakable rotten, but unmistakable Mr. Raymond
I remember the beautiful Ada. Go on. I'm quite
a few years older than you. I have a very clear
memory of how your mother looked on the stage
before her retirement. I thought then that she
was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
Beauty is very fleeting, Mr. Galanari. Like life
itself. Yes, I know that. But then, that's why
artists are born, aren't they? To capture that
fleeting beauty and imprison it on canvas, or
in clay, or in what? Or in other media. Why don't
you get to the point, Mr. Galanay? Your mother's
beauty is the point. If I had been the sculptor
then, that I am now, I would have carved her
image then. But alas, I was only a boy. I still
don't know what you want from me. I want to sculpt
your mother's image, Mr. Raymond. But there is
only one drawback. I have no mother to work from.
There's nothing I can do about that. My mother's
been dead for 25 years. I know there are some
faded old newspaper photographs of her, but they're
not really helpful, not to someone who insists.
I don't see why it's so important. Who cares
what Ada Crim looked like? But I care. Very much.
You see, I've already started the project. You
have? Yes. I've been using the crude photographs
of her as a guide. I have obtained a sort of
likeness. Look, I cannot stop you from doing
what you please, Mr. Gallinari. If you're asking
for my permission... Well, in a way, yes, I suppose
I am. It does seem like a slight invasion of
privacy. All right. If your conscience bothers
you, I'll tell you what you can do. You can order
another bottle of wine. Mr. Raymond... I would
gladly order you a case if you would give me
one more permission. What's that? To sculpt your
father, too. My father? As I said, this is a
form of obsession with me, but from the moment
I began work on the statue of Ada Cream, I felt
that I couldn't stop until I had also done the
head of John Lloyd Raymond. He's dead, Mr. Gallinari.
I have no way to prevent you from sculpting him
or painting him or anything else, but I'll tell
you one thing. You won't get me to talk about
him. Oh, no, no, no, no. I would not dream of
it. But you see, I have a peculiar problem. While
there are some likenesses of Ada Cream available,
in the case of your father, well, I cannot find
a single photograph. I have searched and come
to a dead end. And what I was wondering, and
I know this is a deposition, if there is something
in your possession... You think I have a picture
of him? It was only a hope. I know his memory
is painful, but you were his son, and sometimes,
well, there are souvenirs one hates to be scarred.
Well, Mr. Raymond? I have pictures of him. You
do? I won't give them to you. Uh, please, don't
be so hasty. I won't give them to you. But I'll
sell them to you. Yes, of course. I'm perfectly
willing to pay. I owe Lisa Brandon and her brother
exactly $127. That's the price. Done, Mr. Avond.
$127. And I'm still throwing that case away.
told me about Mr. Gallinari's visit when he paid
me back the money that we'd loaned him. He didn't
really care about those photographs he had. He
was happy to have gotten rid of the debt. But
there was only one thing wrong. I think you must
know what I mean. Yes, I think I do. Raphael
Gallinari didn't tell Vincent Raymond the whole
truth. No. He didn't tell him the truth. He didn't
tell him what... kind of a sculptor he was, or
what use he would make of his work after it was
completed. And obviously he didn't tell him the
medium he would use to carve the statues. No.
He didn't tell him that the medium would be wax.
And that the subject would be murder. And what
happened when Vincent Raymond learned of the
duplicity of Raphael Gallinari? Or was it really
duplicity? Gallinari said he was a sculptor.
Gallinari said he believed in authenticity. And
of course, Gallinari paid for the privilege of
using Vincent's photographs as a model. But has
Gallinari paid enough? We'll find out when I
return shortly with Act 3. And now, here's Act
3 of the Murder Museum. For Vincent Raymond,
all nights are the same. A dark passage into
yesterday. A grim return trip to the past. But
men must sleep, and sleepers must dream. So there's
no escape for him. He means nothing to me, I
swear it! And that's why he was in your bedroom,
Ada? Is that why? Please, please, think of our
little boy! Ada! Look at Vincent, you're frightening
him to death! Death, that's right Ada, death!
That's what you deserve! This morning, the gallery
wasn't open more than ten minutes, and this man
walked in, wearing a homburg thing. I didn't
think people wore homburgs anymore, but he did.
Who was he? What was his name? He gave me a card.
Oh, wait a minute. It's right here. I've got
it in my purse. It wasn't someone named Gallinari,
was it? What? Ruffield Gallinari calls himself
a sculptor. No, it wasn't him. Wait. His name
is... There it is. Charles Mulholland. Does that
mean anything to you? Mulholland? That's Mulholland
Gallery in Chicago. if there's any connection.
Well, anyway, he bore his Vincent without any
quibble about the price. And in fact, Heath was
surprised that it was so low. Miracles never
cease, do they? Oh, Vincent, Vincent, if he really
is somebody, then maybe your work will start
to be recognized. Oh, forget it, Lisa. There
isn't any more work for me just waiting on tables.
That's my art. And I'm getting better at it all
the time. Well, anyway, here's your money. It's
all in $50 bill. Wait now. That's the full 300.
What about the gallery's commission? You need
the money more than we need the commission. No,
sir. We you've got to accept one -third of it
It wouldn't be fair. Otherwise, I knew you'd
feel that way It's the first painting I've sold
these do you realize that I told you you had
talent that'll teach you to listen to me You're
right. I should always listen to you. I've got
an idea. Have you had breakfast yet? Well, I
have coffee tell you what I'm going to get dressed
and we'll go celebrate with champagne and eggs,
Benedict. And then we're going out tonight. I'm
going to buy you the fanciest dinner in San Francisco.
Oh, Vincent, you can't spend all the money in
one day. Why not? Probably the first and last
money I'll ever make for my paintings. Let's
put it to good use. It seems that Vincent had
more talent than anyone realized. Those dark
and gloomy paintings seem to have the qualities
of genius. At least that's what Mr. Mulholland
said in his letter. Lisa! Listen to this! Listen
to this. Go on, I'm listening. The Mulholland
Gallery would be most interested in arranging
an exhibition of your work. Listen, they're willing
to pay all the cost of carding and insuring the
paintings. They'll even pay my fare and expenses
to Chicago so I can attend the opening. Lisa,
can you believe it? Oh, Vince, and it's the most
wonderful thing I ever heard. Well, it's not
a one -man show, nothing that's grand, but the
Mulholland Gallery. That's one of the best, Lisa,
one of the most pre - prestigious do you know
when you'll be leaving as soon as I can get all
the stuff created and shipped I guess the sooner
the better Lisa why don't you come with me oh
I couldn't do that I still have to be a brother
can take care of it for a week or so that that's
all the time it'll take oh I just couldn't do
it Vincent but but when you have that big one
-man show I promise to be there when Vincent
Raymond went to Chicago. Yes, that was his reason
for going there. A very happy reason. Was the
show a success? Oh, it was. The press reception
to Vincent's work was very good. Far better than
the evaluation he received back home. I guess
it's true what they say about a prophet being
without honor in his own country. In this case,
in his own state. There were a dozen paintings
in all the exhibit. and at least half of them
were sold in the first week. And for the first
time, Vincent was a happy man. He sent me just
one letter, and it contained a very good piece
of news. Perhaps even more important than the
news of his artistic success. Dear Lisa, just
a quick note to tell you that I'm well and spending
money like a drunken sailor. I've bought two
new suits. Yes, I said suits with matching pants
and jacket believe it or not, but more important
I'll tell you one other thing that seems to have
happened to me For the last three nights. I've
slept without a dream. I Think you must realize
the importance of that Lisa three nights of dreamless
sleep The most precious three nights of my existence
But those dreamless nights didn't last very long
Because the very next morning at breakfast, in
his hotel room, Vincent opened the local paper
and saw a strangely familiar name. Gallinari.
Gallinari. What's that all about? Announcing
the opening of Gallinari's Murder Museum. Oh
no, that can't be the same man. The Murder Museum.
World's most terrifying house of wax, vivid recreation
scenes of crime, passion and horror never before
witnessed. Oh, it can't be the same man. It can't
be. Where's the phone number? Hello. Is this
the murder museum? Yes, I know you're not open
yet. Listen, I want to ask you a question. This
man, Gallinari, I want to know his first name.
Raphael. And he is? Listen, what time are you
open? No earlier than that. And tell me what
I can find, Mr. Gallinari. Yes, it's important.
No, my name does not matter. All right, all right!
First show at two o 'clock or... Dear God, don't
let it be true. bash his victims with poison,
but then mutilated their bodies in the dreadful
fashion you see before you. And now, if you'll
step to the next exhibit, you will see the latest
edition to Professor Gallinari's world famous
murder museum. For the first time in any house
of wax, the horrifying axe murder of one of the
most glamorous women ever to appear upon the
American stage. It's true. He was faithless.
And one day, her wealthy manufacturer husband,
John Lloyd Raymond, returned home... Listen,
I've got to ask you something. Excuse me, sir,
but I'm still not through with this. I, I...
Where is he? Does he have an office at this museum?
Please, sir, I... I can't see him. It may...
Make him remove this. Appomination! Well, no,
his office is in the rear. I don't know if he's...
Out of my way! No, just here. Come back here.
Sorry, I'm quite busy at the moment, and I...
Raymond? Is that you? Yes, Vincent Raymond. What
are you doing in Chicago? The question is, what
have you done? Now, be calm, young man. There
is nothing to get so excited about. That's your
art out there, Gallinari, out there! That's the
very similitude you were talking about! Yes,
yes, that's right. I tried to be faithful to
the original. I'm not ashamed of myself. You
liar, you thief! Now come, come, come. I've stolen
nothing. I've imitated life, but stolen nothing.
Now please, sit down. Calm yourself. Let me offer
you a drink. You lied to me. You pretended to
be something you weren't. You never told me you
were going to create that horror up there. I
told you only the truth. That I wish to do a
sculpture of your mother and father. I only neglected
to tell you the medium. Some artists work with
clay and marble. I chose wax. Is that so wrong?
You know it's wrong. You made a public spectacle
out of it. And now you're going to do something
about it. You're going to get rid of that thing
out there. I am afraid that's impossible. The
exhibit took months to create. They all do. The
investment in time and money... I'll sue you!
I will make you destroy it! Ah, Mr. Raymond,
don't make unnecessary problems for yourself.
Murder is in the public domain! There has to
be some way to make you tear it down, and I will,
I swear it! I won't let that thing stand! Of
course. I know myself what happened next. Because
I was there in the murder museum. The night that
your friend Vincent Raymond returned. Oh, please.
Can you tell me about it? I never did know the
details. Well, from what I understand, he went
to a lawyer the very next day to see if there
was some legal means to get Gallinari to destroy
the exhibit. He must have gotten some idea how
difficult it would be to get an injunction against
the museum. Because that's when he decided that
the only recourse was to destroy the sculpture
itself. Yes, that would be like Vincent. And
what he did was very simple. He came back to
the museum for the last show of the day. But
during the tour, he slipped away from the crowd
and hid behind one of the curtains until everyone
had gone. And then he walked up to the exhibit
and stopped in front of it. Of course, the instrument
he needed to destroy the exhibit was already
there. The fire axe was real, like the clothes
of the wax figures and the furnishings of the
room. All he had to do was take the axe out of
the hands of his father's statue, and that's
what he did. Destroy. Destroy must be destroyed.
And so I'm standing there as still as the wax
figures themselves. And I froze in the doorway
too, afraid to move. Because I saw his eyes.
And I was afraid to become a victim too. And
then I heard him sobbing. I shouldn't have done
it. I shouldn't have done it. So I turned the
axe toward the figure of his father. But then
a strange thing happened. He began to shake from
head to foot. He seemed unable to bring the axe
down on the figure of John Lloyd. No! That wasn't
your father with hands! I'm sorry, I just can't
be out of here anymore. Does that mean that you
don't want to see the Raymond exhibit now? No,
I still want to see it. But I'm taking the next
flight back to San Francisco, so I suppose there's
no use. Well, I guess it's only fair that I show
it to you, Miss Brandon, since you came all this
way. fixing up an exhibit or preparing to show
something new. This is really very kind of you.
Oh, that's all right. I just hope that you don't
find the exhibit too depressing. Is it a very
good likeness? Yes, I think it's very good. But
judge for yourself. As you can see, the figures
are all ready, but the furnishings need some
work still. I shouldn't say that. I did ask you
to show it to me. Yes, I was afraid you'd feel
that way, miss. Because the likeness is really
very good. It was Gallinari's brother who did
the statue of the professor. Naturally, he'd
get that right. But that's Vincent, too. It's
just like him. It's a very good likeness of Vincent
Raymond. That's just how he looked when he strangled
the life out of Professor Gallinari. Right here
in the murder museum. If you are contemplating
a visit to a wax museum, we pass on this advice
to you. One, don't go during a heat wave. Two,
Make sure that you can stand the sight of wax.
And three, be certain you don't have any murderous
ancestors who just might show up in one of the
exhibits. I'll be back shortly. We hope you enjoyed
tonight's tour through the Murder Museum. We
hope that you'll always come back through the
creaking door of the radio mystery theater. Because
it's the one place you can enter where your imagination
provides the real thrills. Tonight we tried to
aid that imagination with the voices of Michael
Wager, Marion Seldas, Robert Dryden, and Leon
Janney. The entire production was under the direction
of Hyman Brown. And now a preview of our next...
Hello? Isabelle, it's Skye. Skye, I've been worried
sick. Where have you been? Where are you? At
the apartment. I've been calling and calling.
The phone must be out of order. I took it off
the hook. Are you with her again? to return to
our mystery theater for another adventure in
the macabre. Until next time, pleasant dreams.