Mystery of the Wax Museum Page #3

- Saved, one job.

- The press room for yours.

- Wait till I give you the rest of the dirt.

- Make it snappy.

They've ordered an autopsy over

at Bellevue immediately. Go there.

- Don't give this to anyone else.

- It's yours.

Thanks!

Fresh kid!

- Feeling tough?

- Rotten.

]That's too bad, sister.

I have a case of jitters

that will cop the Pulitzer Prize.

If they don't hurry up,

they'll have another corpse on their hands.

Bring in number seven. The Gale girl.

She's a very interesting case.

When I was called, the girl had been dead

for possibly three or four hours.

My examination clearly showed

that she died of laudanum poisoning.

I thought at first it might have been

an accident. An overdose.

Her eyes indicated

that she used narcotics frequently.

- What was the police theory?

- Suicide.

- Leave any message?

- No.

That's why I thought it was an accident.

- Are you in charge of the case?

- Yes, sir.

Who got the information about Winton?

Everyone knew they were living together.

But he was playing around

with some other twist.

Winton was in bad though

because he left before she folded up.

If she committed suicide with laudanum

she probably took it in its true form...

and we'll find it in that

or very close to that state.

If someone gave it to her,

it would be diluted.

- But how could he give it to her?

- ln a cup of coffee or a glass of whiskey.

- That's possible.

- The Gale body is gone.

- What are you talking about?

- Absurd!

What do you mean? The body is gone?

Just that. It's vanished.

Gone. Disappeared.

You mean to say someone stole the body?

We found the slab empty

and the window to the alley was open.

Come on.

Boy, and he asked for a story.

Is his face red!

Bryant, 2626.

- Hello.

- Hello, slug.

Kill that Winton story for this.

Joan Gale's body was....

Not John Brown's.

Joan Gale's body was snatched

from the morgue two minutes ago.

I'm here now.

Yeah, there were nine or ten witnesses.

No, they didn't talk. They're pretty stiff.

No, dope, not drunk. Dead.

Get out of the Tombs and get to Winton.

I'll have Harry write the first flash.

A cow does that, and gives milk besides.

Send Harry in.

- How do you do? I'm from the Express.

- Yeah?

I don't want to talk to you.

I know you people. You'll try to crucify me

for something I didn't do.

Anything you print about me,

you've got to prove.

You know you're innocent

till you're proven guilty.

That's fine.

But while I'm proving my innocence...

you people will uncover

every petty kid trick I ever did.

You'll write editorials

about every cocktail I drank.

Anything that any normal person

might have done...

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