Case of the Backstage Murder

Good evening. This is Peter Lark. Say, what are you being learned? Give your attention tonight to the subject of murder? Yeah. Well, you won't have to do anything. Oh, really? Check out all of the titles, Troy.

Just sign me yourselves. Just change, tale, for murder. Listen, my friends. Don't miss, Troy, playhouse. They have. Listen and murder.

We take your backstage to one of those little, secondary, bold look theaters. The home of one night's fans. Tae, crease, peed. Half-hearted audiences and struggling performance. The world of comics, treatment, chorus girls. The world of make believe, yes, but with a heart or reality of the everyday world in a background.

And it's a company called a certain jammus, passions, the door of a dressing room. Then comes quickly down the iron stairs, and crosses to the stage door. The manager of the theater calls out to her.

Hey, where you going? Oh, and what's with the street clothes? You're running about 15 minutes. How many? Wait a minute. Look, Mr. Walton, just let me get out of here. Hold on, baby. Take it easy.

But I just want to calm down. I'm through. I'm done. Oh. Another fight with Al, huh? Just don't mention that guy to me. May you got to use your head? You can't walk out like this and I professionally...

Oh, please don't hand me that show my co-arm routine. And... There's Al, and you're leaving? Makes no difference. Wait. Hey, Pop? Yeah? What the hell? Grant's got you, I'm gonna ask him to come down here, will ya?

Okay. Now, look, there ain't no point in having me... But be this time, May. I just can't stand working with the guy. working with the guy. He's also a comic that I can't put up with.