 And now, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Listen now to And So To Sleep My Love starring William Redfield and Elaine Rost and written especially for suspense by Dave Gilbert. Oh George, that isn't the way it happened at all. Can't you get anything right? He was sitting behind the wheel of a car and this big handsome policeman walked over. I sat there with my drink in my hand, a fixed smile on my face looking pleasant. But each man has his breaking point and I had reached mine. As I sat there staring past the empty faces of our friends and neighbors, a plan started ticking away in the back of my head. A plan to rid me forever of this foot on my neck, this mocking woman. My wife, May. Oh it was a shame really, I'm sure I really loved May and one time, oh she had her faults but who hasn't? I know she felt I had my share of faults because her life had been dedicated to correcting them one by one. First I smoked cigars, then I smoked too many cigarettes. Finally I didn't smoke at all. So in the end there wasn't enough of me left to love May had I wanted to except one thing. Our rich uncle had died the year before we were married and left her an inheritance of $75,000. We used almost $15,000 to buy a house and get started in life. But the remaining $60,000 was in negotiable bonds for our declining years, she always said. Now just think of how well a man could live on $60,000 in Mexico. But would my plan work? For a man who for eight years has amounted to nothing but failure in his wife's eyes, success was inevitable. I decided to put my plan into effect immediately. I saw Thelma Stevens go into the kitchen to fix herself a drink. Thelma is one of May's best friends. Personally I detest the woman but this was hardly the time to be snobbish. I followed her. Hello Thelma. Oh Georgie. Oh that was the funniest thing the way you've apologized that policeman. The way May told that I could almost see. Yeah I thought it was rather amusing myself afterwards. Oh by the way did May tell you that our club is going to start a benevolence program for stray cats? Only cats? Oh May just loves the poor unloved things. As a matter of fact it was mostly her idea that we undertaken. Well my wife has always been kind to dumb animals. Thelma I wanted to get you alone in the kitchen because there's something I wanted to ask you. Of course. What is it? Well I was wondering if you knew of a good home remedy for insomnia. Oh have you been having trouble sleeping? Well May told me you've been eating like a bird lately. No no no no no. Thelma it isn't for me you see. It's May I'm worried about. May? Yes. See I think she must have bad dreams. I mean she goes to sleep at night alright but then she wakes up because she thinks she hears things and she just can't fall back to sleep. Oh that's funny. May never said anything to me. Oh now isn't that just like her. Well why don't you get us some sleeping capsules. Oh no Thelma I wouldn't want anything as dangerous as that. Oh there's nothing dangerous about sleeping capsules as long as you don't take too many of them. You know when Charlie and I were having our difference of opinion. I just couldn't sleep nights. I told our doctor that's a good man and he wrote me out a prescription and he said there you are. Well I just couldn't have made it without them. Oh I'll give May his name a chance. Oh no no no no see I wouldn't do that. I mean she'd be offended if she knew I told you know she tries so hard to keep trouble to herself. Oh of course. Well let me write you his name on this slip of paper. Dr. Walter Brunst. Fantastic. It was all going to be so fantastically simple. The real work started the next day. May was planning to be gone for the whole day on a field trip with her idiotic club and I announced at breakfast that I wasn't going to work because I felt I had the beginnings of a cold and I didn't want it to develop into anything more serious. I began the day by driving to the other side of town where I purchased a certain sound effects record in a small record shop. Then I returned home certain in the knowledge that I saw or encountered no one I knew. The furnace in our house is situated in the basement with hot air ducts running to every room. Of course in the summertime it's empty and cold. The grate was just large enough to hold a small record player. Stringing the wire from our bedroom down through the hot air register and into the furnace took longer than I anticipated but removing the switch from the record player and installing it in the heat regulator of my electric blanket took even longer. I worked feverishly. As the big hand on the dresser clock swept to six and in my haste I made more fumbles than I could afford. Just as I was fitting the plastic halves of the regulator over the new switch I heard the front door open. Just one screw to go. Gotta get this together before she sees to drop the screw. George. Up here, darling. There now. Good, good. Finished, finished. Now let me see. Is the room clean? Yeah. Shut the bed against the wall. What are you doing up here? Good job, boy. Good job. I just didn't feel like going to bed. Did you have a good time on your field trip? We went to the humane society. You know, George. People really just haven't done the proper thing for stray cats. Poor deers. I thought the evening would never end, but at last we went to bed. Usually may fall asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow, but tonight I wanted no chance of error. As I lay there, listening to her breathing become more regular and shallow. Little fears began to tear at my confidence because there's always a chance of miscalculation. And I remembered to turn on the volume of the record player. Perhaps too loud. I broke out in a cold sweat. If only I'd had time to test it. My fingers itched to grab the blanket regulator, but I forced myself to wait. A half hour passed, my fingers stole along the electric cord to the switch, and I clicked it off. And I waited. Nothing happened. What had I forgotten? Connections? No. The needle? No. What then? Why no sound? And then, far down in the basement, I heard it. May was beginning to stir. I slipped my fingers over the switch, and I had a moment's notice. George. George. George, wake up. George, wake up. Do you hear me? What? What is it? Did you hear anything? Huh? Hear anything? I thought I heard a woman. I don't know. Crying. You thought you heard what? I was afraid. Hold me, please. Now you're not going to start imagining things again. Now come on. Go to sleep. Are you sure you heard nothing? Well, of course not. Go back to sleep. She lay back down, but she didn't sleep. I could hear her lying in the dark, just listening. The next night I woke her again to the record, and the following night, twice. I increased the number until she woke up screaming four times in one night. And I decided that the following night would be the acid test. That night it took May longer to fall asleep than ever before. It was almost 1.30 before she started to drift off. My fingers found the switch. George. Huh? George, George, wake up. Oh, May, what is it? Are you having another bad dream? George, this isn't a dream. I can hear it now. You can hear it too. Hear what? It sounds like a woman crying. Oh, no. Or a crazy woman. Or a woman that isn't alive anymore. Oh, George, listen, you must hear it too. There's something down there. Please go down and see what it is. Now, May, I have given in to these whims of yours too long. I absolutely refuse. Now, darling, you've had these bad dreams before. It's not a bad dream. I'm awake and I can hear it now. Well, I hear nothing. I got out of bed then and clicked on the light. I listened to her go downstairs. As soon as she hit the living room, I turned off the machine. I got out of bed leisurely and went down to her. She'd fallen in a heap on the living room floor and was sobbing uncontrollably. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her. May, May, what's come over you, my darling? You haven't been yourself lately and now these voices. George, I'm afraid I'm losing my mind. Well, what do you mean? I keep thinking I hear a ghost in the house of a woman with a high, crazy voice. Well, personally, May, I think there's nothing wrong with you that a good night's sleep wouldn't fix. Oh, sleep. Oh, I'd love to fall asleep. If you only knew, I hadn't slept the whole night through in a week. You know, Thelma was telling me that she had insomnia once. Now, why don't you just pop over to her doctor? You'll be glad to fix you up with a prescription for sleeping pills. Yes. Yes, that's what I'll do. All I really need is a good night's sleep. Is it possible that anything could be easier? I had May begging to take out the pills in her own name. Once she got a prescription for death, I had only to see that it was healed. She came home with a bottle of pills that next night. She took one before going to bed and I let her sleep undisturbed the whole night through. That way, she'd believe that she'd found an escape at last. After she was asleep, I also removed one pill from the bottle. On her third night of sleep, I started the treatment again. May couldn't wake up, but from her constant tossing and turning, I could tell that her nights were going to be oh, exhausting, haunted things. And during the day, she was haggard and depressed. Toward the end of the week, she increased the dosage to two pills, but I continued to remove only one. I mean, the bottle would be empty soon enough. Besides, there was still some groundwork that needed doing before my wife's untimely death. The next night, after May fell asleep. Oh, Thelma, this is George. Look, I hate to disturb you at this hour, but May isn't over there, is she? Well, no. Isn't she with you? Well, no. She left the house right after dinner and I thought she might have gone to visit you. Well, I haven't seen her all evening. Frankly, Thelma, I'm worried. She's been so depressed lately. Poor D. Oh, I mean, I don't know what's gotten into her, Thelma. She's been saying the strangest things like, I wonder why we try so hard to live. Oh, no. Yes, yes, and I wonder what it would be like to end it all. Not May. I'm afraid so, Thelma. Look, I'd try to kid her out of it, you know, but her uncle. Yeah. The one that died just before we were married. Committed suicide, you know. Oh. Yes, yes. And I'm afraid when there's a history of it in the family. Oh, I had no idea. Oh, yes, yes. Don't say anything to May, though, Thelma. You see, she pretends it never happened. Oh. I mean, it's family pride, you know. Oh, of course. I wouldn't think of telling a soul. After all, I'm May's best friend. I knew before the week was out that everyone in town that mattered would know that May had been very depressed of late and that she had an uncle who committed suicide. Thelma had so terribly many best friends. The day I'd selected for May to join her dear departed uncle would be the day she replenished her supply of sleeping tablets. On that day, she told me she was going to have it filled right after seeing her lawyer, or the state had passed some new tax law and she wanted to see if it affected her. Rather, my inheritance. When May came home that night, everything was ready. In the kitchen, May. Were you lonely without me today? Oh, a little, a little, but I'm getting used to it. Why, George, you fixed dinner for me. How thoughtful. I just couldn't have faced fixing dinner tonight. Yes, I know. You've been so tired lately. Come on, sit down, sit down. I wonder if those sleeping pills keep me tired. Maybe I should stop taking them. You got some more, didn't you? Of course. What makes you ask? Oh, nothing, nothing. I just don't enjoy getting up in the middle of the night either. I'm sorry, George. Oh, it's all right. But you seem more cheerful than you've been for a couple of days. Any particular reason? No. Well, I'm glad. Yeah. Are the new taxes going to affect your inheritance at all? No. The lawyer and I made sure the money will be safe. Good, good. Eat your soup, dear. Hmm. It was all I could do to sit there and eat calmly. What if tonight, of all nights, she didn't want mushroom soup? It's possible. One of her favorite dishes. Control, Georgie Boy. Control. That's one thing you've got to have. Control. Huh. How's the mushroom soup, dear? Since I married you, you've developed into a remarkable cook. Well, it's easy when you have someone to cook for. Remarkable cook. I looked at my plate and I couldn't even see it. I was too busy seeing her spoon down her soup to the last drop and with it the contents of more than 17 sleeping capsules. The dosage was more potent than I thought. Halfway through the meal, she grew sleepy. This meant I would have to act more quickly than I planned. Oh, I don't know what's the matter with me. I feel so very tired tonight. You know it's silly, but I think I'll go out and go to sleep. Well, why don't you, dear? I'll clean up the dishes. I stood in the kitchen and listened until I heard her get into bed. I went to the living room and got her pen and purse and a piece of stationery. Then I raced upstairs and stood outside her door. The blood just thundering in my head. The timing. The timing had to be perfect. Too early and she would resist me. Too late and she would be incapable. I spent a moment putting on a pair of cloth gloves. Nothing must go wrong. I entered the room. May? May, wake up. Had I waited too long? May, may, wake up. May, I want you to write something. I'm tired. Wake up, May. I want you to write something. I want to go to sleep. Wonderful. That's what I want you to write, dear. Here, take this pen. Pen? Yes. Now write. Write? Yes. Write. Write, I want to go to sleep. And then you can go to sleep. Now don't look so confused, my darling. It's all right. You can trust me. You are very tired. Hurry up and write and then you can go to sleep. Write, dear. I want to go to sleep. Good. That's right. Now sign your name. May? Yes. Your name. I'm tired. Sign your name and then I'll let you go to sleep. Good. That's right. And so, to sleep. My love. For the second and last time in her life, my wife, May, did something I wanted her to. I folded the note in half and placed it along with a pen on the dressing table next to the bed. I fished in her purse, found the new bottle of sleeping pills, the one with her name and today's date on it, emptied 17 of them into my gloved hand and left the rest in the bottle and put it on the night table. Then I locked the bedroom door with an aluminum key I had made. The only other key was in her purse. Then I went down to the kitchen to tie the up. Oh, it's best to work while you're waiting for someone to die. It doesn't allow you to think, you know. I washed the supper dishes and put them away, the soup things I did most carefully, the cloth gloves were burned in the fireplace with some old papers and the ashes stirred I was most methodical. The aluminum key and the 17 sleeping pills were chewed up and flushed away in the disposal. I sat down in the living room to enjoy a cigar I bought for the occasion, the first one I'd smoked in my own living room for years. I can't say that I was entirely lighthearted. It's a strange feeling to sit alone in a house where someone's dying. But I sat there and watched the long summer day darken outside my window. I tried to pass the time thinking of Mexico and the house I would buy. What's that? Listen to me. Oh, it's nothing. It's my imagination. I had too much self-control to let my imagination ruin everything now. I picked up a book I'd never had time to finish before. Oh, there were so many things I'd intended to do with my life. Now I could do them when and how I chose. So I sat down and opened the book. Well, I could have sworn that infernal record that it had gotten turned on somehow. I got up and walked casually to the basement and opened the furnace door. Well, just as I thought, the phonograph was as I'd left it. But to satisfy a whim, I removed the record and broke it into several pieces and threw it into the trash can. Well, now who would be calling at this time on a Saturday night? Well, at any rate, I knew what I'd say when I answered it. I ran upstairs. Hello. Hello. Mrs. Rogers, please. Oh, I'm very sorry. My wife is sleeping. She went to bed early about seven o'clock and left orders not to be disturbed. Oh. Well, this is Mr. Phillips calling for attorney. Oh, yes, Mr. Phillips. Mr. Rogers, I'm taking the family on their summer vacation tomorrow morning and I wanted to talk to Mrs. Rogers before I left. Would you tell her that I checked into the legality of establishing a hospital for stray cats and it can be done? Cats? Why, yes, the Rogers Memorial Hospital for stray cats. She came into my office and changed her will this morning. She said it was your idea, signed over her entire inheritance to homeless cats. Cats? Yes. I think it was a marvelous gesture on your part. Not many people are concerned about the welfare of unfortunate stray animals. I went numb. I didn't know what to say or do. Run that record! Mr. Rogers, are you there? Mr. Rogers. Control. I must get control. We mustn't suspect. Mr. Rogers, what's the matter? Nothing, nothing. I suppose you mean that noise. I did tell you it's nothing. See, I've been experimenting with some sound effects. It sounds like a crazy woman, doesn't it? Or a ghost. I mean, it's not just a sound effect. What noise? That woman you hear, it's just a record. What woman? Oh, you're clever, aren't you? You make this phone call to try and trick me up. Cats. Don't pretend you can't hear it. You can't fool me. Mr. Rogers. It's not a ghost. You see what I mean? It's just a record. Thanks again, Mr. Phillips. I've got to go wake up May and tell her your calls. May. May. I've got to go up to May. May! May, it's me, George. Good Lord. Cats. May, wake up, darling. It's me, George. And he said you gave all your money to a bunch of cats. We're talking William Redfield and Elaine Rost and written especially for Suspense by Dave Gilbert. Suspense is produced and directed by Bruno Zirato Jr. Music supervision by Ethel Huber. Featured in tonight's story where Bryna Rayburn is Thelma Stevens and Bernard Lenro is Mr. Phillips. The wailing and laughing voice was created by Abbey Lewis. Listen again next week when we return with You Will Tie It Miracle, written by John Robert. Another tale well calculated to keep you in. Suspense.