 Now, the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California presents Suspense. Tonight, Roma Wines bring you Summer Storm, starring Mr. Henry Fonda, produced for Roma Wines by Charles Vander. Suspense, Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills, presented for your enjoyment by Roma Wines. That's R-O-M-A, Roma Wines. Those excellent California wines that can add so much pleasantness to the way you live, to your happiness in entertaining guests, to your enjoyment of everyday meals. Yes, right now a glass full would be very pleasant, as Roma Wines bring you Mr. Henry Fonda in a remarkable tale of Suspense. It's exciting when there's a storm and strange things can happen. Some people are sensitive to changes in the weather, like me. There's nothing odd about that, it's like people who talk to themselves. I talk to myself a lot. I think about things and I talk to myself about them. There's nothing odd about that. Come on, Eddie, get the suitcase packed and let's get out of here. Like that I talk to myself. You know, just making up my mind because there's no one else around to talk to me. Just getting myself on the move again because the landlady wasn't taking care of the room. She was away on a visit and her husband, Mr. Waters, was slopping around in a bathrobe trying to run the place. Come on, Eddie, he never makes the bed. You use the same towel for a week. It's time to get out, lock up the suitcase and get going. Uh-oh, there's Waters. I guess you can't sneak out without him seeing you. There's a mean man, Eddie. You can tell by his little eyes. All fat men are good natured. Look at him stuffing himself with pigs knuckles or whatever they are. Well, come on. Morning, Mr. Waters. Pigs knuckles don't taste as good as they did an hour ago. Guess I'll feed the rest of them the graham's dog. That'd be nice, Mr. Waters. Taking your laundry out? No, sir. These are clothes. I'm leaving, sir. Yeah, what? Leaving. I'm sorry. What's the matter, Eddie? Don't you like the place? Yes, sir, but I gotta get closer to my work. Here's the keys before I forget them. Better wait a while, Eddie. Looks like we're gonna have a storm sometime today. Oh, I don't mind a storm, Mr. Waters. I'm funny that way. It'd be a lot better if you'd wait till the wife gets back. Won't be more than a couple of hours. Well, you mean she'd blame you for my leaving? Might. Got a nasty tongue. Stick around till she gets back, Eddie. No, I gotta be going. Besides, I ain't feeling so hot. I'm feeling bad all morning. It's getting worse, Eddie. I'm sorry, Mr. Waters. It's my stomach. I'm sorry, Mr. Waters, honest, but I gotta go. Wait a minute. Ain't you forgetting something? Forgetting something? What are you trying to pull anyhow? I don't get it. You don't. How about the rent? The rent. Last week's rent, what do you think I am, a sucker? I paid my rent. Oh, you did, huh? Give me that suitcase. Well, I paid it to your wife, or she went away. That's your story. Go ahead and leave if you want to, but this suitcase stays here until I get that rent. But you've already got it. You know I paid it to Mrs. Waters. You're trying to make me out of liar? No, but you weren't here. Got a receipt. She never gave me one. She said I didn't need it. Give me that suitcase. Don't you take a swing at me. You can't slap me around. No, no, no, wait. Eddie, Eddie, my back. Stop pushing. You ask for it. Eddie, let go. You don't like it when I fight back, huh? Eddie, you're killing me. Oh, I'm not, but maybe I should. Oh, he looks bad, Eddie. Who are you talking to? Myself. Get over there, you fat ass. I pushed him too hard, I guess. He looks bad. He's out cold, Eddie. Mr. Waters? Mr. Waters, you all right? Somebody at the door. Better be quiet. It's Mr. Graham from next door. That clock's off a loud. He's yelling his head off a minute ago. Now he won't answer the door. Coming in here, Eddie. You've got to get away. Or they can see it from there. The attic, that's it. They don't know about that. Up the stairs, but don't make any noise. Better not let him find you, Eddie. Up there, you help Mrs. Waters store the blankets. Just step over Mr. Waters, Eddie. He looks bad. Up here is a place to hide from him. And if they start upstairs, I can crawl in the attic. Well, I'll try. I've got to listen. No answer, Graham. I've got to see what they do. But can't let them see me. I'm going in there. I guess we'd better see what's wrong. Go ahead, try the door. You think you can keep me all sure? I'll bet a pretty something's wrong in here. I don't like it. I'm getting out. And leave me alone. Nothing to do with it. This ain't none of my business, Graham. I feel like a fool if Waters came strolling down those stairs. He's not going to... Look, look under the table. Waters, say listen. Let's get the table away. Don't stand there. I don't like this. Let's get the table away. I'll tell you, maybe he's hurt bad. Come on, grab the table. Oh. There, there. Waters. Waters, you all right? We better call a doctor. Yeah, there's a phone over there. Hey, wait. We don't need no doctor. We need the police. The police? Yeah. The guy's dead. For Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you a star, Mr. Henry Fonda, in Summer Storm by Lluis Este. Roma Wines' presentation tonight in Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills, Suspense. Between the acts of suspense, this is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines. To mark the return of good living, this week has been designated National Wine Week. Good living is simply a lot of little things that are part of the American way of life, says famed hostess Elsa Maxwell. Little things like greeting guests with a friendly welcome of a glass of port, a simple meal made flavorful with a glass full of burgundy or sautern. I often serve Roma California Port at the end of a meal and later in the evening with fruit and nuts. Because rich, fruity Roma Port served cool, is a choice wine both men and women enjoy. Simple but adds so much to the enjoyment of the evening. Red, red Roma Port is a proud wine in a family of great wines with fruity fragrance and deliciously sweet nectar-like taste. Like all Roma Wines, always unburyingly good. Remember, because of uniformly fine quality at reasonable cost, more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wine. Always ask for Roma, R-O-M-A. Roma Wines now featured at new low prices. And now Roma Wines bring back to a Hollywood soundstage Henry Fonda as Eddie in Summer Storm, a play well calculated to keep you in suspense. Dead. Waters was dead. The words made me weak, sick all over. I hadn't hit him hard. I just grabbed him around the neck and pushed him back when the fight went out of him. I remember the table, though. When he fell against it, it tipped up and must have smashed the back of his head. That was it. That had killed him. And now they'd start looking for me and when they found me, they'd hang me. They'll say you killed him, Eddie, and you'll hang for it. They're calling the police now. When they find you here, they'll say you killed him, whether you met to or not. And they'll be right, Eddie. You did. You can get away. Listen, see what's going on down there. No sound but the clock. Wonder where they are. You can tell the police about this when they get here. No, no, sir. I'm going back home. I don't want to get picked up in this thing. What's the matter? Are you yelling? No, no, I ain't yelling. I told you before this was never my business and I'm getting out right now. All right, go on. Maybe now's your chance, Eddie. He's all alone. Sneak downstairs before the police come. Get out of this house and get away, far away. But watch out for the stairs. They squeak. But if you do, you can get away from here. Lift it over the rail and you killed one man. Or they'll say you did. They can only hang you once. Lift it slowly, Eddie. Slowly. You missed your chance. You let the clock scare you. He's gone. For the first time panic overtook me. I sat down the chest and stepped back into the shadows. Beside me was the door of the hall closet. And I remembered that in there was the trap door which led to the attic. I slipped in. I got a foot on a wall hook and scrambled up over the clothes that were hanging there. I pushed back the little trap door, lifted myself through the hole and... and listened for a minute. I could hear the muffled voices, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. They must be down there with Mr. Waters. Somebody's coming up the stairs. He's coming down the hall. The attic was long and low. He wouldn't think of anyone being up in there. Or would he? It was dark except for the light from the small ventilator. I moved back into the shadows. I crouched low because the space was too small to stand up in. Suddenly my hand brushed against a short piece of pipe. It had been left there for a long time and the dust was thick on it. But it was a weapon. It made me feel safer. I moved quietly over to the trap door and waited. Get ready for him, Eddie. If he opens the trap door, you'll have to hit him. They can only hang you once. That's all I remembered for a while. I must have passed out for hours. When I woke up, the attic was black and heavy with heat. Still there was no storm. Only a vague threat and distant thunder. And inside of me there was a threat too. The beginning of the storm. My head ached and my mouth was dry. I knew there was cold water in the icebox and I wanted it. The storm was coming closer inside of me. And I had to be moving. I slid the cover back and listened. The house was quiet with only the ticking of the big hall clock. So I dropped through the hole and started down the stairs. But that clock scary, Eddie. There's no one here now. Maybe you can get out now, Eddie. There's your suitcase in the hall. Don't forget that. Someone's at the door. Oh, it's you, Mr. Fowl. Glad someone came over. Even you have been alone. Got me back from my sister. Well, the wife says, Oh, gosh, I can't tell you how bad I feel about you. Come in, Mr. Fowl. He was a swell man, Mrs. Waters. Your husband, I mean. Yes, yes, he was. Yes, really, really swell. But they didn't come any better. Anyway, the wife seen you from the window and he says, Won't you come in, Mr. Fowl? In? In there? I mean, Just for a minute. I have to keep back here in the shadows. I can't stay long, you know. Anyway, the wife wants to know if there's anything we can do. I mean, if you're scared to be alone or anything. No, no, there's nothing. Just finish up my dinner and I'll go to bed very shortly. And I'm not frightened. Oh, gosh. It was awful, simply awful. The way he was lying there and breathing so heavy. I was standing right there looking at him. It was the way he was breathing that got me sort of a gasp. You know what I mean? Yes, yes, I know, Mr. Fowl. But he's gone now and there isn't any good in... Listen, listen. Did you hear something? Listen, hear something? Where? It sounded like somebody breathing. I don't hear anything. Good lord. It sounded just like... What on earth are you talking about? Your nerves are all on edge, Mr. Fowl. No, I... I gotta be getting back. If you're sure there ain't nothing you need now. No, no, I'm quite all right. Well, if there's anything you want, you just call... I'm going right to bed. I don't feel well. I should wonder, I should wonder. Never mind, I'll be all right. Good night, Mr. Fowl, and don't worry about me. Yes, well good night. I gotta get back at the right, you know. Good night. Gave her an hour to get to bed and to sleep. I stayed right there, cutting the seconds and listening to the ticking of the big clock in the hall. My muscles were stiff. My throat was dry and sore from swallowing. I hardly dared breathe. Finally, I slipped out. Picked up my suitcase, started to tiptoe out. The back door would be the best I thought. I went slowly in the dark, thinking that I could see the spot in the kitchen where Mr. Water's body had been after the fight. But the back door was in blackness. I tried the knobs softly. The door wouldn't open. It was locked. Not with a night latch, but with the old-fashioned iron locks that were on all the doors in the house. There was no way out without the key. I started for a window. That was no good either. The screens were heavy and were nailed firmly in place. I'd help nail them myself. I knew that cutting them would make too much noise. There was no way out except for the key. And that must be in Mrs. Water's room. Back down the hall, I went to the downstairs bedroom. The door was unlocked. And I opened it. And listen, she's asleep, Eddie. Listen, the keys must be on the dresser, Eddie. Right over there. The storm was getting close outside. And I felt all stormy inside. I had to get the keys. Get out of this house. It wasn't too dark to see Mrs. Water's bed. She was breathing heavily. I brushed past the bed. And my knee touched the chair. I went on until I felt something waist high. The dresser. I moved my hand slowly over the top. First some clothing. And I felt around for the keys. They weren't there. I felt more slowly. A hairbrush. A comb. Then a pile of hairpins. Where was the key? Breath until Mrs. Water started breathing regularly again. I was shaking now and scared. And the storm was building up inside. I reached into a drawer. I tried not to make any noise, but there was some. I reached inside. There was something steely and cold. The key. No scissors. Long ones. Sharp and pointed. The phone was frightening. I wanted to run to get out of the room. But I couldn't remember where the door was. I held the scissors like a weapon. A knife. And flapped myself against the wall. Oh, I feel the phone. Eddie hides somewhere. Pull it this hour. I stepped back into the closet and pulled some clothes in front of me just before she snapped on the light over the bed. I'm coming, I'm coming. I talk softly to myself like I always do when I'm alone and scared. I got the scissors, Eddie. If she comes in here, you'll have to use them. They must know you killed Mr. Waters. It wouldn't be right to kill her, too, but... But what if she finds you, Eddie? You're no killer, Eddie. But you can't be caught, you can't. If she opens the door, do it. Do it quickly, Eddie, and then run. Where's that dang bathrobe? Oh! And find you, Eddie. You didn't have to kill her. She just took her robe off the hook to kill her, did you? But now's your chance, Eddie. Her handbag's on the bed. The key's, Eddie. Get the back door before she's through. Storm outside was like a storm inside me. Violent and vicious. But it kept me moving. I slipped along beside the house, then I stepped over the hedge and ran along in the shadow of the house next door. I was getting away from all that. Mr. Graham's dog, a snarling little curney, came to his side of the fence and watched me. I'll kill him, Eddie. Whether you want to or not, reach over the fence and strangle him. You have to stop him, Eddie. The whole neighborhood will be up in a minute. Get out of town. Way out of town. I walked a long time in the rain while a storm inside me settled down the same steady rhythm as the rain drops. I hadn't eaten all day and I was weak in shape. The water dripped from me and the bag slapped against my leg and my shoes made little splashing noises in the mud. I counted my footsteps. I counted to a thousand. I then started over. And then through the rain I saw an all-night diner. I shook the rain from my head and looked inside. There was just a man and an apron, no one else. I hesitated for a moment, but the smell of food and coffee came to me. And I opened the door and walked in. Coffee. Coffee? Give me a sandwich, any kind of sandwich. Sure, coming up. Look, kid, take off the coat and let me hang it up by the coffee boiler. No, I'm all right. Let me have a sugar. Sugar? Cream? No. Leave sandwich all right, it's all gone. Hello, Casey. What's cooking with the police department on a night like this? Take it easy. Coffee coming up, Casey. Hey, kid, do you need a sandwich? Sure. I'm dripping all over your floor. I'll hang it up, Mike. Okay. It's really wet out there. Yeah. He's hanging up his gun, too, Eddie. Maybe you can get it if you have to. Oh, how'd you get so wet, kid? I didn't see you before. I got caught in a storm. Oh, I see. Thanks, Mike. Look, kid, maybe you better come along with me down to the station house. It was done. It was over. They'd caught me. I'd felt free up until now. I looked at where his gun was hanging by his raincoat. Now I'd have to try it. I'd have to kill again, I thought. I could get them both and get away, maybe. They could only hang me once. How about it, kid? I'll book you as a sleeper. By morning, you'll be dried out and on your way. Okay? You mean... You mean just sleep there? Well, sure. There won't be any charge against you. Well, thanks. But I got to get along. Okay. Have it your own way. What are you, Mike? Mr. Dime. Yeah? Thanks. Have you been hitting the ball tonight? Oh, well, thanks. I'm gonna take him to the dock around. Have to go back and pick him up. Oh, emergency case, huh? Yeah, the dock called it, uh, botulism. Uh, something like tolamine poisoning. Said it was from eating pigs' feet. Old lady waters up on Elm Street. Ah, you're gonna be awful careful of them things. Yeah, they'd wonder about them, but I guess she ate them anyhow. They were from the same batch that killed her husband earlier today. But she didn't know that was what happened to them, and she ate them, too. Tolamine's badge, Steph. Get you this way, then. Yeah. Well, so long. So long, Gazing. Work, coffee, kid. No, thanks. Did you hear that about Mr. and Mrs. Waters both dying from the same thing? Yeah. Pigs' knuckles. Ah, you gotta be careful of that tolamine stuff. Well, looks like the storm's over. Sure is. The moon's out. Just a summer storm and out's all over. Yeah, it'll make it nice for you. You feel all right? Me? I feel swell. You, Henry Fonda, star of Summer Storm, tonight's study in Suspense. This is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines, the sponsor of Suspense. Tomorrow is Friday. If you're one of those many people who invite friends into dinner on Friday night, here's a suggestion on how to make that meal really exciting. Dying by soft candlelight and serve Roma California Sautern, says famed hostess Elsa Maxwell. Pale gold and Roma Sautern adds not only glamour, but goodness to the meal. I serve chilled Roma Sautern regularly with seafood and chicken. They are perfect flavor mates. Enjoy Roma Sautern often. Like all Roma Wines, Roma Sautern is wine at its best, in uniform quality, reflecting the heritage of grapes, carefully selected at peak of flavor in California's choicest vineyards, gently but quickly pressed. Then by a process as slow and as old as time, brought to lick with perfection under the patient guidance of Roma's ancient winemaking skill. Then bottled at Roma's own famed wineries. Now featured at new low prices by leading wine merchants everywhere. Henry Fonda appeared to the courtesy of 20th Century Fox, producers of The House on 92nd Street. Next Thursday you will hear Lucille Ball in Suspense Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrill, presented by Roma Wines, R-O-M-A, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.