A Blueprint for Murder

[Siren Wailing]

Where is Polly Cameron's room?

- I'm sorry, sir. No visitors are allowed.

- I'm her uncle.

[Girl] Don't touch my feet! Please!

She's in room 362.

[Girl Screams] Don't touch my feet!

[Whimpering, Sobbing]

- [Whimpering Continues]

- Cam!

- It's awful. She's in such terrible pain.

- What's wrong with her?

They don't know yet. Dr. Stevenson,

this is my brother-in-law, Whitney Cameron.

How do you do, Doctor?

I'm calling in a specialist, Mrs.

Cameron. It looks like tetany.

[Groaning]

Mrs. Cameron, I think our worries are over.

- Oh, thank heaven.

- She was a mighty sick girl.

We're very fortunate.

- You still don't know what was wrong?

- Not for sure.

The tetany test was negative.

You know how grateful I am, Doctor.

I've got to call Doug.

Better phone outside.

Besides, I need a smoke.

Cam, now that you're here, how

about spending a few days with us?

I'd really like to, Lynne,

but I should get back tomorrow.

We're opening a new field in Venezuela.

You're always roaming all over the world.

Did it ever occur to you that we

might like to see you once in a while?

It's important for the kids.

- I should spend more time with them.

- You should.

Especially Doug. He never quite

got over his father's death.

I know. Hit him pretty hard.

He's at an age now when a boy needs a father.

You're the closest answer to that.

Let me see what I can do. Maybe

I can stay over for a few days.

- I dropped everything to get down here.

- And I deeply appreciate it.

I didn't mean that. Here's your phone.

It's just that I must find a public

stenographer and get some letters off.

- All right. You run along,

and we'll expect you for dinner.

- Okay.

One, two, three, four, five,

six, seven, eight. Chance.

Eh... Uh... oh.

Go to jail.

[Laughs] That's too bad, Uncle Cam.

I know a young man who's got

to go hopping right off to bed.

- Can't we play a little longer?

- It's way past your bedtime now,

and tomorrow's a school day.

- But Uncle Cam's only going

to be here a few more days.

- We're going to have fun too.

- How about our taking in the ice show tomorrow?

- Oh, boy! That's super!

- I'll pick you up at school.

- Gosh, I wish Polly could go too.

It was awful last night, the way she

kept yelling, "Don't touch my feet!"

Yes, I know. I heard her.

But I think we should try

to get that out of our minds.

- Dad was just like that when he died.

- What do you mean?

I think Doug's letting his

imagination run away with him.

But his feet were turned in like hers,

and he was all stiff and funny too.

- He was?

- Sure, same as Polly.

Is that right?

Well, there was some similarity, I suppose.

But the doctors all agreed

Bill had virus encephalitis.

- Anyway, there must be a lot of things

with those same symptoms.

- I suppose so.

- Did you tell your Uncle Cam

about your baseball team?

- Boy, have we got a team.

I knocked two home runs so far.

Course, our field's not very big.

If we were only up in Boston, we could

see a lot of the Red Sox together.

- Say, how about letting Doug

spend the summer with me?

- Oh, would you, Lynne?

Why not? Sounds wonderful.

- Swell!

- Well, that's settled.

I've got an old sailboat. We could

have a lot of fun on weekends.

Lynne took us to Lake George last summer.

- I learned a lot about boats.

- He's quite a sailor.

- Seems to me Lynne's been mighty good to you.

- She sure has.

- Night, boy.

- Night, Uncle Cam.

- Night, Lynne.

- Good night, Doug.

You know, you've been wonderful, the way you

took on the job of bringing up those kids.

They're nice kids. It wasn't hard.

When their mother died, I thought no

one would ever be able to take her place.

They really love you, Lynne.

I don't see how they could help it.

I always thought Bill was a lucky man.

- Now I'm beginning to realize just how I...

- [Phone Rings]

Excuse me.

Hello?

Yes.

Yes. We'll be right there.

It's Polly. She's had a relapse.

[Doorbell Buzzes]

Cam! When did you hit town?

- Hello, Fred.

- We haven't seen you in ages.

Have you had breakfast?

Fred, Polly's dead.

Dead?

- Maggie? Maggie!

- Yeah? Yeah?

- Hi, Cam.

- Hello, Maggie.

- Polly Cameron died.

- She what?

I just can't believe it.

- Oh, the poor kid. When did it happen?

- About 3:
00 this morning.

Oh, what a terrible shock for

little Doug. How's he taking it?

Well, they're both under sedatives.

Oh, please go ahead with your breakfast.

I'll get another cup.

What was wrong with Polly?

Well, the doctor seemed rather uncertain.

- He didn't know?

- I suppose it's sometimes hard to tell.

- But there's one thing about it that bothers me.

- What's that?

- Apparently, Polly and her father

had the same kind of convulsions.

- They did?

Polly kept screaming, "Don't touch my feet!"

- "Don't touch my feet"?

- Yes.

Why?

Just that it's a curious thing to say.

I'm afraid there might be something

hereditary in this thing that could hit Doug.

- Did you ask the doctor?

- Said it wasn't possible.

Just the same, it seems odd. Very odd.

- You weren't here when

your brother died, were you?

- No.

- What did the doctor say he died from?

- Virus encephalitis.

That's some sort of sleeping sickness.

And yet in Polly's case they don't know?

Somehow, back in my mind...

that "don't touch my feet" rings a bell.

Here we go again. Another wild goose chase.

Maggie still writes for the pulps,

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