In this thrilling episode of "Mystery Time," host John Dowd introduces "Murder in Haste," a gripping tale of suspense and identity. Written by Eleanor Beeson, the story follows Albert Taylor, a man who seizes the chance for a fresh start after a tragic accident. However, as he assumes a new identity, he finds that escaping his past is not as simple as changing his name. The narrative unfolds with a tense train journey, a deadly derailment, and a desperate attempt to evade the law, all while grappling with the consequences of his actions.
As the plot thickens, Taylor's new life as Leslie Jamieson is threatened by unexpected encounters and a relentless pursuit by the authorities. The episode explores themes of guilt, deception, and the inescapable nature of one's past. With a dramatic climax that sees Taylor confessing to a crime he didn't commit, "Murder in Haste" keeps listeners on the edge of their seats, questioning the true cost of a second chance. Tune in for a masterful blend of mystery and drama, brought to life by a talented cast and live from New York.
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Time now for the best in mystery. Tonight
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And if I say no?
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Then I'll have no choice but murder.
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Good evening. This is John Dowd, your host for Mystery Time. Back again to introduce another in ABC Radio's great Monday through drama. Every night at this time, a new and different story. Our drama tonight on masters of mystery, presented live from New York, is written by Eleanor Beeson and titled Murder in Hate. Not everyone gets a chance for a fresh start, a new identity. When Albert Taylor gets such an opportunity, he feels that lady luck has done him a wonderful favor until he discovers that it takes more than a change of name to wipe out a guilty past as masters of mystery brings you murder in haste.
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She lay away. She had fallen close to the fireplace. Her head is struck against the iron, the hand iron, Blood slowly gathered in the pool on the bricks. I called her name. Helen. Helen. She did not answer. I had meant to hurt her badly, but now my wife was dead. I'd bent over and tongue her heart, and Helen was dead. Alright. We've had our last quarrel, and now I killed her. It took me only a moment to decide on my course of action. If I call the police, they'd never believe it was an accident. I had to get away. I changed my name. I'd no longer be Elder Taylor. I'd get a fresh start in a new city.
I grabbed up my hat and coat, packed a bag, took what money I had, and slipped out of the house. Two hours and twenty minutes later, I was standing on the observation platform with a limited express sound from the north.
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Nice night, isn't it? Oh, I I didn't think you were coming out. I'm sorry. I thought it was a nice night.
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Yeah. Yes. Yes.
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I saw you running for the train when we were pulling out. Just made it, didn't you? Yeah. It's quite a close. Been in Miami long?
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No. No. Been sitting off the key just a week or so. I see. My name's Richard. I'm glad to know you. I'm Brown. Richard Brown. Uh-huh.
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Are you going up to New York, Brown?
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Yes. Well, I I guess I'll be getting in touch. That's a good idea. I'll,
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go with you.
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I knew as soon as he opened his mouth. Rickets was a plain road cop, and there could only be one reason why he was interested in me. He he stayed right behind me as I walked back through the tray to my teeth. I wanted to see if even just down beside me when I got to it. Then 10 feet in my seat, it hit me. My luggage was on the baggage rack over the season with my initials valid in in big letters, ET. Rickets was just waiting for me to stop, just waiting for proof I was out of the tail up. Many make the arrest. But I didn't stop. I kept kept on going.
Brown. Yes. Isn't this your seat? Why, no. I have a compartment up ahead. Oh, I see. Good night, Brown. Good night. Rick has dropped into a seat and I kept right on going. There was only one place I could go, the club court. At least I could get a drink there and and try to think. Oh, Bartender. Make it on Manhattan Drive. Please. Drive.
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There's a stool next to me, sir. What? Oh, thanks. Thanks. Okay. Going to New York? Yes. Ought to be cold up there this time of year. Lots of snow and all that. Yeah. Lots of cold snow. You know, I'm as excited as a kid. Haven't seen snow for an age. Matter of fact, I haven't set foot in America for five years. Great to be back. I get a kick out of just talking to Americans again. Yes. I was sitting in my compartment a few minutes ago thinking and You? Got a compartment. Oh, yes. Yes. Couple of cars ahead. Well, my name's Brown, mister Jameson. Wesley Jameson. Jameson.
Oh, no. Wait a minute. You're not the mystery writer. Yeah. Wait. I am.
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Oh, thanks, buddy. Well, here's to bigger and better mysteries. Okay.
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So, you say you left Buenos Aires? Yes. Plan to anyway, but made a little earlier in the account of that nasty business above my assistant, I think. Probably go back in a year or so.
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Say you ever, read anything of mine, mister Bau? I can't say I've done much reading in the detective storyline. Mhmm. You have a serial running in one of the magazines right now, haven't you? Yes. Yes. Murder and hate.
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I don't suppose you're reading it.
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I'm sorry. If I'd known I was going to meet the author, I'd have moved up on it.
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Don't apologize for that.
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Well, how about a night, Kev? Before we turn in. We're not turning. We'll it's early. Candace and surely you're not gonna take me give up the ship for a tune. Well, hell, I have to confess. I'm pretty tired.
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I've been rattling on about myself always. Oh, there you are. Okay.
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Hey. That's beautiful. I'm better. Well, why don't we drink? Well, you name it. Very well.
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Here's the crime. A mighty profitable business. To me, I believe.
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Tell me about your literary agent. You were saying you'd never met him personally?
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Oh, a pharaoh. Oh, yeah. Great agent. I've often wondered what he looks like. You've never even been to New York? No. No. Never. Oh, well, mister Brown, close to midnight. I feel I I tell you, mister, what about this period you're running? Maybe you could bring me up to date on this. Tell you all about it tomorrow. Right now, I'm awfully tired. But it's not yet. I'll see you. I hate to move, but I'll have to ask you. Good.
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What's that? Your time is tough. I
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hope
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When I came to, it was dark. I was lying in a tangle of wreckage all around me. And all around me, I could hear shouts and cries, the hints of things. But at the tangle mess of steel and wood that had been a Pullman coach, I was miraculously
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safe.
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At Pullman's help up, Litov Nash had thought that Leslie Jamieson hadn't been so lucky. He was dead. I couldn't do a thing for him, and the hiss of flames warn me the wreckage with the fire. I found where the window had been and managed to crawl out. I was pulling myself through the window when somebody came running up with a flashlight. Just a second.
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Now let me help you. Oh, thanks. Go take my hat. Oh, easy. Now. Put out for the broken glass. Yeah. Let's see. Hey. Hey. You alright? I think you're a little busy. Shaking up. Oh, sure. That's natural. Oh, it's you, Brown.
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Oh, wicked. Yeah. Hey. You're lucky. This coach got the worst of it. Look at that fire. Yeah. Just got out in time.
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Say that, fellow you were drinking with at the bar, he's still in there? Oh. I'm pretty sure he's Albert Eats Taylor. Murdered his wife in Miami. Still in there?
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No. He left a few minutes before the crash.
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Oh, why don't you, better get on up ahead, Brown? I gotta get my hands here. Can you, make it to the crossing? There's a highway restaurant up there. Sure. I'm okay. Okay, Brown. Take it easy.
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For a moment, I stood there, dazed watching the fire crawl closer. Then as my mind cleared, I saw what an opportunity had been given to me. It was a risk, but I had to take it. I crawled back into the wreckage to Leslie Anderson's body. I took his wallet, his ring, his watch. I left my ring and watch engraved with my initials with him. All was left with him. Then as the flame I found his briefcase and baggage and dragged them out of the wreck. And ten minutes later with my identity now changed to Leslie Jamieson, I staggered into the restaurant at the grave crossing where the derailment had occurred.
Okay. Mister, we've got a doctor in the bathroom. Come on, I'll put you in. No. No. I'm just a little shaken up. I wanna I wanna get out of here. I thought I could hire a car or get a bus to New York. You were in the West? Yes. I was. What's your name? I'm I'm Leslie Jamieson. Leslie Leslie, this
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say, are you a fellow like those murder mysteries? Yes. Yes. That's right. Well, it's not a coincidence. Only last night, I made a bet with that that my boyfriend as to which one would turn out to be the murderer in that cereal you're running in the pub. Well, that's very flattering. I I wonder if you could help me, about the bus. Sure, mister Jameson. But how about giving me the advance tip on the murderer,
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Which one? Well, I I don't think it would be fair to touch it. Give me a fast cup of coffee with you and honey. Yes, sir. Oh, hello.
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Pretty rough out there. Pretty car smacked.
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How do you feel, Brian? Wow. That's Leslie Jameson, the rider.
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I thought your name was Brown. Well, of course, I well, you know how it is. I Here's the coffee. Thanks. No, mister Brown. I don't know how it is. How is it? You you feel because I didn't want him. Oh.
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Oh. I get it. I believe mister Jameson's serial in the postmurder and hate a little bet with my boyfriend on who the murderer is. Well, I can tell you that I I read the last installment last night. Yeah?
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Yeah. Got it at the newsstand in Miami. Well, we ain't got it here yet.
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Well, mister Jamieson,
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who's that? Well, I I don't wanna spoil the story for you. You ought to finish it. Afraid I won't buy another copy of the magazine. Well, it's a matter of ethics to write a cap Oh, what do you mean ethics?
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I know how it ends. Please, mister Jamieson. I can tell Frank I got it straight from the author's mouth. Oh, come on. What
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goes? Well, I don't want hope to find this car driving. Perhaps I could hire that guy. I'm
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driving up to New York. Mister Jameson here wants to get to New York too.
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Was that right, Jameson? You're quite in trouble with me. Give me a hand with the driving. Come on. Well, I Well, first, give the, young lady a break. Tell her who the murderer was. Well, I'd pardon you. It's against my principles.
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Come on.
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All I meant, it was the butler. You got hotel space in New York, Jameson?
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Well, not not yet. I thought I'd arrange it when I arrived. You've been away long for that, haven't you? It's probably not a good to be ahead. Oh, is it that bad? Oh, it's worse.
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I think I might be able to fish here with the, Midberry. I, know the man Oh, I I I I couldn't Oh, forget it, dear. Glad to help you. Now, Dorel, aren't we both in the same business? In a manner of speaking.
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Well, I got a room at the mid-30s, but not before the manager had tipped off the reporter that I was Leslie Jamieson. As I crossed the lobby, I heard a flashlight bolt. The next day, there were pictures of me in all the papers. There was a story on the inside pages of the paper that Albert Taylor wanted for killing his wife in Miami, had been identified as one of the dead in the train wreck in Georgia. That should have meant I was safe. But now 5,000,000 people have seen my picture as Leslie Davidson. What if one of them had known me down in Miami? I waited with mounting apprehension for the knock on the door that would announce the police.
And I wished Helen was back again alive. Helen would know what to do. She was a domineering woman, but she knew how to make decisions. Then suddenly the phone rang. It was the manager to tell me that missus Jamieson was on her way up, my wife. I hadn't even known Jamieson was married. I walked up and down, my mind whirling frantic. I had to get away, and then the doorbell rang. It rang dead and that dead, and I had to answer it. There was nothing else I could do.
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Just a moment. Leslie.
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Hello?
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What what do you need? Maybe I'd better come in.
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Well?
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Well, what?
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What are you gonna do about it? You're an awfully stinkle sort, aren't you, mister? Mister whatever your name is. Well, I suppose I am. How did you expect to get away with it after all the publicity? Where is he? What have you done for him? Now wait a minute, mister James. Do I keep explaining? Maybe you fell. But you
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I I had reason for wanting to disappear, so I took his identity. I never meant to keep it if you'll just Then what? Look. There's there's nothing we can do for your husband now. He was killed. I'm going to leave town. All I all I ask is that you forget you have a zoning.
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I see.
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Well, is that all you're going to say? You what are you gonna do? I could go to the police. No. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. I I I can make it worth a while to to to Stop. Does,
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does anyone know you're here in New York? No. No. Very fortunate. You see, Leslie and I didn't get along. Matter of fact, we've been separated sometimes. He said he was cutting me out at will. So with Leslie dead, I don't get anything wrong. But with Leslie alive
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Wait a minute. Would you wonder?
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He could
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Who?
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But don't be ridiculous. There are a dozen reasons why I can't feel this covered in a week. You have his baggage. Yes. I know his signature. I can imitate his services. I know his background like a book. You may as well get used to it, mister Jameson.
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Well, I cannot go do it, but this is a fantastic thing I haven't heard of. There's a lieutenant Ricketts down in the lobby.
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He's quite interested in our relationship. If you like, of course, I'll I'll bring him up to date.
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Alright. This is Jameson.
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Albert darling. Just call me
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Ruth? Ruth?
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What is it?
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I tell you, this this can't go on. You're spending money as if as if you have no self control at all. $28,000 in three months besides the deposits I made to your account. Here, look at these bills. Look at them. I haven't got a penny.
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Are you all free? There's your quarterly
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royalty set this month. Well, that'll only pay part of the bill. Mhmm.
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It's not paying any of them, darling. It's going into my account.
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I see. And maybe you would have some clever way of getting out from under these bills. That's your worry, dear, not mine. 5171432. Having trouble? Oh, nothing important. Just that my account covers more than $5,000
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Well, of course, you could finish your book, dear. Sure. Finish the book. Writer Leslie Jamieson Mystery. Well, then I suppose you have to think of something else.
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Ruth, be honest with me. How long do you intend to carry this on?
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Why indefinitely be.
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There's there be no end.
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There is if you want one. There's always a fooling.
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You could have been decent about it instead of spending money so so irrationally.
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There could have been plenty without bleeding me to death. I think I've been quite serious with you. You've got kept your freedom. Freedom. Freedom.
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Six months now. Those people worry me. Can't eat. By worry, night and day, trying to dodge my own shadow, afraid all the time.
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An irrational woman spending money as if she were insane holding a dagger of my bed. Get hold of yourself. And now there's no way out. Press. Run into a corner. No way to turn. No end in sight. Nothing to do but go on and on until I break on unless Tell the I'm on what? But what are you doing?
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Yes, sir. You're
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you're the death sergeant?
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That's right. What can I do for you?
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You you you can take out the take on it. I
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mean What's the matter, mister?
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I've I've I've I've just killed my wife. Bless Howard. Happy, George. When I I wandered around on the streets all night, I thought about running away. Didn't it all seem so so useless to run away again the second time? So I came here. Now I can relax.
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For the first time in months, I can relax. Sure. Take it easy, mister Jamieson. They'll take care of you.
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Aren't you aren't aren't you going over there and find her? We've been there.
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Found about an hour after you did it. Been looking for you all night. You may as well know she's not my wife. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. We know, miss Davis. She was your assistant, Buena Serres. What? You say she was shaking you down. What did she have on
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you? My assistant. Wait. I was Yeah. That's right. You're his sister.
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Have you, have you had a lapse of memory or something, Jamieson?
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Yes. I
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remember now. Now tell me, Jamieson. What was she threatening to take you to the police? Okay. But a three year old would have known it was a blob. That's the last thing in the world she would have done. You don't know what?
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She wasn't rational. She would have done anything. Not if it meant her neck out.
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What? What's happened to your memory, Damon? The whole little Buenos Aires Six Months ago. Every newspaper. She's wandered down there for murder. Down there for murder. This is Don Down again, your host for Mystery Time. You have just heard Masters of Mystery live from New York. Tonight's play, Murder in Haste, was written by Eleanor Beeson and produced by Martin Andrews in association with Ronald Dawson and Robert Arkin. Featured in tonight's drama were Richard Richard Janifer, Ralph Bell, Ivor Francis, and Connie Lemke.
Next Wednesday and every Wednesday night, another presentation of masters of mystery. Tomorrow night, mystery time brings you mystery classics, presenting a steering story by Ed Adamson with the eerie title, death watch. This is Don Dowd, your host for
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history time.
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See you tomorrow night. This program came to you live from New York. This is the ABC Radio Network. You were listening to WLS, the Prairie Farmer Station, Chicago seven, Illinois. Twenty three and a half minutes after 11:00 in Chicago, the present temperature now 12 degrees. Humidity 79%.