A Blueprint for Murder

Where is Polly Cameron's room?

I'm sorry, sir. No visitors are allowed. I'm her uncle.

Don't touch my feet! Please!

She's in room 362.

Don't touch my feet!

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.

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.

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 l-

Excuse me.

Hello?

Yes.

Yes. We'll be right there.

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

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, and her imagination-

I was checking several years ago, doing research on a story.

There was one case I re-

- What's the matter? - Nothing. Forget it.

If you've got something on your mind, spill it.

I'm just a screwball, I guess. What were you going to say?

Well- Well?

Okay. It was a murder case I looked up.

The victim had the same kind of convulsions...

and kept screaming, "Don't touch my hands!"

So? So, he died of strychnine poisoning.

Oh, man alive, Maggie.

Are you trying to say that Polly and her father might have been poisoned?

This isn't one of your yarns. You're dealing with real people.

Well, I only mean- There is a similarity.

Don't try to tell us the doctors wouldn't have recognized strychnine.

They didn't in the case I looked up.

And they apparently don't know what killed Polly.

Let's see what the encyclopedia says about convulsions.

Why do you always have to dramatize everything? You are going off the deep end.

She sees a man take a pocketknife out to sharpen a pencil...

and right away builds herself a murder case.

Don't both of you jump on me. I only mention it as something that should be looked into.

Well, they list eight causes.

Tetanus would have required a cut.

Obviously it wasn't rabies.

Epilepsy? No history of it in the family.

How about tetany? Not according to Dr. Stevenson.

With all these others, like brain tumor, there would've been early indications.

You know, there's one thing it'd be pretty tough to rule out.

What? Strychnine.

Strychnine? Are you serious, Mrs. Sargent?

Well, you do admit you don't know what she died from,

and strychnine would produce the same symptoms.

Is this your idea too, Mr. Cameron? I don't know, Doctor.

There are so many confusing facts.

You told me it wasn't tetany, yet that's what was put on the death certificate. Why?

Because that's what we were treating the patient for.

She responded to the calcium treatments, so we continued it.

As a matter of fact, I suggested an autopsy.

Why didn't you have one? Because Lynne couldn't stand the idea.

I see. I agreed with her. Nothing could be gained by it.

Let me ask you one question. Just how do you think the child got the poison?

Well, I don't know, but I don't see how it could have been an accident.

I'm afraid I don't want any part of this, Mr. Cameron.

All right. All right. I'm sorry I brought it up. Shall we go?

It's preposterous to assume that anyone would have wanted to poison the child.

Oh, I don't know. Okay, then, who could have done it?

Mmm, several people. For instance?

For instance, Lynne. Good day, Doctor.

Maggie!

What on earth got into you making a crazy crack like that about Lynne?

You can get into trouble. Now I'm getting mad. I only said it was possible, and it is.

Why don't you like Lynne? I can take her or leave her.

Aw, come on, Maggie. You've got her all wrong.

She certainly made Bill a good wife. He was very happy with her.

Maybe so.

What time's the funeral tomorrow? 10:00.

Do you plan to stay on afterwards? Till the end of the week.

Well, that'll at least give me a few more days. Bye-bye.

**

The more I was with Lynne,

the more I realized what a fine, wonderful person she really was.

Must you really leave tomorrow?

I've stretched it as long as I could. It's been over a week, you know.

Yes, I know. I'll be back as soon as I can.

You can rely on that. Good.

Lynne's warmth and affection for Doug...

helped so much to soften the blow of his sister's death.

Never did Maggie's absurd suspicions...

seem more fantastic than now.

Mr. Sargent wants you on the phone.

Tell him I'll call him back later, please.

No, go on, Cam. I'll take it.

Excuse me.

Fred? You still leaving tomorrow morning?

Yes, of course. 7:15 plane.

Can you possibly stay over?

There's something we ought to tell you.

Maggie's been pestering me about it.

I don't see how I can, Fred. Go on!

Well, I - I kinda hesitate bringing it up on the phone. What is it?

You know I handled your brother's estate. Mm-hmm.

Under the terms of the will, Lynne's share was left in trust.

- She receives merely the interest, unless- - Unless?

Now, I don't want you to think we're jumping to conclusions. Well, unless what?

Unless both children were to die. Both Polly and Doug.

What the devil are you trying to say? It could prove a motive.

I'm amazed at you.