 And now, tonight's presentation of radio's outstanding theater of thrills. Suspense. Tonight, we bring you a transcribed story of a woman who finds a letter warning of death and has only three hours to deliberate. We call it the Death Parade. So now, starring Paula Winslow, here is tonight's suspense play, The Death Parade. Bless your husband a nice day for it. Yeah? All right, now, Miss Johnson, let's try and talk about this. This girl fell or was pushed off a roof this morning, and you say you were the only other person there at the time? Well, I was. I told you. Oh, oh, what do you mean, pushed? You mean you think that I... Oh, how scared you are. I know you're upset, but will you just take it easy and try to answer? I'm nearly out of mind to tell you anything. First, you was freezing in here. You know right... Miss Johnson, I'll have some of this coffee. I don't want to feel better. You've told us you know something about this accident, something more than we already know. Yes, yes, I do, Lieutenant. I mean, it never would have happened. Don't you see? Sure, sure. Come on, drink this. This will help you. Oh, I'm so nervous. Oh, it's spilled. That's all right. We'll clean it up later. Well, that's how it started. You see? That's how it started this morning. Just like that, the coffee. That poor girl wouldn't have died if the coffee hadn't spilled. That's just how it started. My name's Ellen Johnson. I work at the Farnsworth Chemical Plant. For 12 years I've been there and never missed an hour of work. That is, until today. It was so unnecessary. That horrible, rude little man. He was the one. I'm very precise about my daily habits. Very. When you live alone, you arrange things that way. In the morning I arise and allow myself time to take coffee and toast at the cafe on my corner. I've always disliked cooking in the morning. I leave the cafe at 8.15 precisely in order to be at my desk exactly at 9. This morning was the same. Just the same, except for that horrible man. He was awful. As I sat at the counter, I could feel him there. Two seats away. Thin and dark. Making a nasty noise as he drank his coffee. It was all his fault. Gonna see the parade this afternoon, miss? Oh, no, no. I'm afraid I'll be working. That's too bad. Should be good for business. Yes, I imagine so. Anything else? Hey. Hey, you. Oh, no, thank you. It's 25. Coffee and toast, is it, right? Yes. Thanks. Hey, you. Pass the sugar, will you? Good morning. See you tomorrow. What's the matter? I asked for the sugar. You can't pass it? I beg your pardon? Yeah. Yeah, sure. Oh! Oh! Why, look at that! You deliberately spilled that coffee all over my skirt! Oh! She ain't that a shame. What a clumsy. Gee, am I sorry? He wasn't. He wasn't in the least sorry. He'd done it on purpose, on purpose. I was wearing a gray silk dress and it was probably ruined. He just stood there and wiped at the stain with his napkin, smiling. Dirty, crooked teeth. I pushed him away and walked out. I knew I was going to be late because I had to change, so I went home again. If I hadn't gone home, this awful thing might never have happened. It took me 15 minutes to get back to the apartment, change my dress and leave again for the office. I'd walked three blocks when I saw the letter. It was lying on the pavement in front of an apartment house. Because I'm very meticulous about my filing in the office, I can't bear things to be out of place. I suppose that's why I picked it up. It was unsealed and addressed simply to Miss Sheila Manix. No house number or street. Dear Sheila Manix, you don't know me. I just got into the city. It doesn't matter who I am, but this is a warning. Believe me, you better take notice. Jack's got it in for you. Oh, I stopped reading. There was more, but I didn't want to go on. It frightened me a little and, well, I'm not one to pry into other people's business. But this, this wasn't prying, really. It wasn't. The letter was important. Whoever had written it must have forgotten to put the address on it and it had fallen out of their pocket. I made up my mind then. I'd go into the apartment house. It was possible that the writer lived there and on his way out had dropped it. The building was quite small and the janitor probably knew his tenants' handwriting. Janitor? Janitor. Oh. Yeah? Oh, are you the janitor? Yeah, I'm sorry. We got no vacancies. Oh, no, no, I don't. Look, this letter, it's not addressed. Do you know the handwriting? I thought maybe you... Nobody by that name living here. I didn't ask you that. All I want you to do is to tell me if you recognize the handwriting. It might belong to someone living here. How come you opened it? Well, it was lying on the pavement outside. So give it to the mailman. But it's important. I mean, what's in the letter. I think she ought to get it. So the post office will forward it. Oh, can't you see there's no address? How can they forward it? How stupid. Listen, you don't have to get nasty. I got enough trouble and I told you she don't live here no more. I'm sorry. Wait, wait, who doesn't live here anymore? Mannix. She had 2A about six months ago. Sheila Mannix lived here? Well, where did she move to? Can you tell me? No forwarding address. But I must find her. Sorry, lady, I can't help you. I thought of the police then. I should have told them about the letter, but I didn't. I didn't know what else was in it then. All I could think of at that moment was finding Sheila Mannix and giving her the letter and forgetting it. I went back to my own apartment and looked through the telephone book. There were two Sheila Mannix's listed. The first lived on Maple Street and the second on South Tower. I rang the Maple number first. Oh, hello. Is this Miss Sheila Mannix speaking? Miss Sheila Mannix? Who's this? Well, my name is Ellen Johnson, and I found a letter this morning addressed to a Sheila Mannix. I thought it was important, and I wanted to make sure it got to the right party. Well, who's it from? Well, that's it. You see, I don't know. Have you opened it? Well, yes, but I only read a few lines. Oh. Uh, do you know someone named Jack? Jack? Well, yes, I do have a nephew. Oh, then perhaps... Well, perhaps in Colorado, though. It, uh, it seems to be some sort of a warning. Warning? I'm afraid I don't understand. The letter says that Jack has got it in for you. It's, uh, well, a warning. Well, I'm afraid the letter isn't for me because, you see, my Jack is only 10 years old. Oh. Oh, well, I'm sorry to have troubled you. Oh, it's all right. Bye. As I hung up, I realized the Sheila Manics I was looking for might not even have a telephone. She might not even be living in the city any longer. I looked at my watch. Nine o'clock. There was my job, but... The second Sheila Manics listed in the directory lived on South Tower. I dialed the number. Then got the letter out of my purse and read it. This time I read all of it. Dear Sheila Manics don't know me. I just got into the city. That's who I am. So, warning. Believe me, you better take notice. Jack's got it in for you. He was drunk one night, told me about it. Somebody you knew pretty well died last year. He didn't fall off that building. He was pushed and Jack did it. He said he was going to get you, too. Oh, dear. I would have told the police, but they'd start to get nosy about me. Jack's on his way here, and the way he talks, he'd better not find you around. He talked crazy about a parade. The corner of Maine and Thomas at 12 o'clock. That's when he's going to do it. A friend. I sat there holding a piece of paper that carried a death warning. For a woman I'd never seen. And I knew where and when she was going to be killed. You are listening to the Death Parade, tonight's presentation in Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills, Suspense. You can't blame a man for being ambitious, but when the man is a blackmailer and he gets over ambitious to collect from a client, you can't blame the client for trying to break off the unhealthy business arrangement. Tomorrow night on CBS Radio's FBI in Peace and War, hear the details of the Fall Guy. It's a story of a guy who made too much of a good thing out of a good thing, until G-Man got wind of the way he did it. Remember, every Wednesday night over most of the same stations, hear the FBI in Peace and War. Now we bring back to our Hollywood soundstage Miss Paula Winslow starring in tonight's production, The Death Parade, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. The second Sheila Manix's address was 317 South Tower Street. I got my car out and drove there. It must have been nearly a quarter to ten when I drew up outside. It was an old rooming house. Oh, hurry up. Come on. What do you want? Well, I'm very sorry to trouble you. Is your name Sheila... You have to talk louder. I can't hear you. Oh, I'm sorry. I wonder if you could tell me, is your name Sheila Manix? No. No, it's not. But the phone book has a Sheila Manix listed at this address. Well, it's her phone. She pays for it. I never have no cause to use it. She does live here then. She has a room upstairs. What's the matter? Are you the police? Oh, no, no. Well, does she work? Is she at work now? How should I know? I never ask her where she goes. What's she done? You mean you don't know? You don't know where she works? Well, do you know where she lived before she moved here? No. She never says nothing. She's quiet and keeps to herself. But where can I find her? It's important that I learn where she is right away. She'll be home prompt by 7. Always is. Come back then if you've got to see her. I hope 7 will be too late. I've got to find her now before 12. I know you shocked at me, miss. I can't tell you no more and a half already. Don't know nothing about Sheila Manix. Now I knew I'd wasted far too much time. I had to call the police. There was a drugstore on the corner and I ran down the block to it. I was terribly afraid. And even more, there was a feeling that the house I'd just left was the home of the woman I couldn't find. Good morning. Can I help you? Oh, yes, yes. Do you have a phone? There's one over there, but it's out of order. Oh, could I use yours? It's an emergency. I'm sorry. I don't have a problem. Well, I've got to call the police. Now, look, I've never been mixed up in anything like this before. Well, it's a letter I found this morning. A warning about somebody being killed. That sounds bad. There's a phone in the next store. Use that. Maybe you know her. She lives down the block. Who's that? Sheila Manix. She's the one. At least I think so. Manix? Oh, yes. She comes in often to have a prescription filled. Oh, do you know anything about her? I mean, where she works, I've got to find her right away. Now, please, it's urgent. I asked her landlady and she didn't know. Excuse me, she didn't mention it once. Well, think. You must think. Now, please. Well, no, wait a minute. It was just the other day we were chatting while I filled her prescription. Let me see. She said something about it. Was it a restaurant? Cashier, maybe? No, no, no. The department store? Elevator operator? No. Oh, dear. Hats, clothes, shoes, an usher. Telephone operator? Oh, no, that doesn't hit some. I'm sorry. Oh, you're not thinking. Now try. Listen, ma'am, if I could help you, I would. Oh, well, has she any friends in the neighborhood? Somebody who might know? Oh, never mentioned you. Can't you remember? Maybe she worked in an office. Well... Oh, I'm sorry. Be with you in just a minute, sir. Excuse me, ma'am. There's a customer there. You better go next door and call the police. But can't you remember? I'll be back. Maybe a chorus girl. But does she work in a bookstore? Oh, I can't wait. I'll be back after I've called. Oh! You said bookstore. Yes. It's a book company or something like that. Simmonds. That was at Simmonds Book and Stationery Corporation. That was at Simmonds Book and Stationery Corporation. Thank you. Thank you. It's on main. Yes, I know the place. Thank you very much. Simmonds Book and Stationery Company. Well, I'd been in there dozens of times. She might even have waited on me. I looked at my watch. 10.30. I really meant to call the police, but I didn't know how long it would take to explain. Even then, they might not investigate without seeing the letter first. I thought of the corner of Maine and Thomas, the parade, and 12 o'clock, an hour and a half. I ran to my car. I knew that once I found Sheila Manix and gave her the warning, she'd be safe. There was a lot of traffic. It took me nearly half an hour to get to the Simmonds Book and Stationery Company. The clock outside showed four minutes to 11. Good morning. May I help you? Oh, yes, yes, please. I'd like to speak to Miss Manix. Miss Sheila Manix. I understand that she works here. I'm very sorry, ma'am, but Miss Manix had an appointment. She's not here? Well, I'm sorry, but... But where does she go? I think to the doctor. Well, what doctor? Where? Now, when did she leave? Now, if you'll wait here, I'll find out for you. I could have cried. And that silly, precious little salesman, he took forever. How long does it take to get an address? I started to walk to the back of the store when he came down the aisle toward me. I'm sorry to have taken so long, a customer on the phone, you know. It's all right, it's all right. I don't care. Just give me that doctor's address. Well, yes, I have it right here. Dr. Morton, 101 flowers. 101 flowers, Dr. Morton. When did she leave? Oh, I forgot to ask. Oh, no, no, I'm going there now. Now, look, listen, if she comes back, if I miss her, you tell her to stay right here. Yes. You understand? Don't let her leave the store again until I come back. No. Don't let her leave. It's a matter of life and death. Oh, well, all right. Is something wrong? Something wrong. I ran to the telephone booth. I knew I'd done as much as I could alone to save that poor girl. Police department, Sergeant Leonard. Police. Now, listen, please listen carefully. There's a murder going to be committed at 12 o'clock. Who is it? Oh, what does it matter? My name is Ellen Johnson. Please, I found a letter in the street this morning. It was to a woman called Manix, a Sheila Manix. Would you spell that please? Oh, Manix, M-A-N-N-I-X. There's not time for me to... When did you find the letter? I told you this morning. What difference does it make? Oh, it was nine, I think. Well, why didn't you call earlier? Well, I didn't. I tried to find her myself. I think I know where she is now. Have you got the letter with you? Yes, yes. Would you read it, please? Oh, there isn't time. You've got to send some men here. It's a warning. Somebody called Jack is going to kill her at 12 o'clock on the corner of Maine and Thomas. There's a parade going on then. What does this woman look like? Can you give us a description? No, no. I've never seen her. I don't even know her. You say you think you know where she is. Yes, yes. At a Dr. Morton, 101 Flower Street. Where are you calling from? Simmons' book and stationery store. She works here. Well, will you get a description of the woman, please? I'll wait. Yes, of course, but don't hang up. I'm the young man again, and he told me what Sheila Mannix looked like. I got back to the phone and told the officer. Short, about 5'2", thin, possibly 90 pounds, wearing a brown coat with a brown shoulder strap bag. We'll try to find her, Miss Johnson. Now, please stay there. I'll have an officer come to the store to pick up the letter. I put the receiver on the hook and sat in the booth. I was shaking. My hands were wet. It was 11, 20. Somewhere outside, I heard a band playing. The parade must have started. I stayed in the shop and the minutes passed. 11, 30, 25 to 12. At 20 minutes too, I just couldn't stand it any longer. The waiting, the awful waiting. I had to do something. I called Sheila Mannix's house again. There was just that chance, that slight chance. Maybe she went home after the doctor. Maybe she's there. Oh, two more. No, no, no, three. Let it go three more. Oh, be there. You must. You'll never know. Oh, listen. Big louder. I can't hear a thing. Who is this? Miss Mannix? Oh, Miss Mannix isn't here. This is the landlady. I'm cleaned up. Is there a message? I couldn't stay in that store any longer. I gave the letter to the salesman and told him to give it to the police when they arrived. It was quarter to 12. Main street was alive with people. It seemed as though the whole city had turned out to watch the parade. To me it was the same parade of last year and all the years before. But today there was a difference. The floats and the bright carriages meant nothing to me. I pushed my way along the street toward the intersection of Main and Thomas. I couldn't have stayed away if it were my own life depending on it. The crowd was so thick that it was impossible to see anything from the street and I had to see. Then I thought of the Benson building and the roof. If I was up on the roof, I could see everything that happened on that corner. It was 5 to 12 when I got in the elevator and took it up to the 19th floor. I had to walk to the roof and I could scarcely breathe as I opened the door, stepped out into the bright sun. Instinctively, I knew that this was the building. The same building that the man in the letter had been pushed from last year. For a minute, I didn't see anyone and then, at the corner, standing near the edge, looking down, I saw her, a short woman, quite thin, dressed in a brown coat and a shoulder strap bag. It's Mannix. It's Mannix, aren't you? I've been looking for you. It's about a man called Jack. He's looking. Oh, it's all right now. It's all right. You spend from 9 o'clock until 12 looking for and you don't call us until 45 minutes before it happens. Well, I told you why. I just... You know something, Miss Johnson? I think you're lying. Lying? Why, how dare you say that? I was doing what I thought was right. You picked up a letter, a warning letter, and you go to a janitor. You call people on the phone, but not the police. Well, I was... You visit Sheila Mannix's house. You talk to the landlady. You talk to the neighborhood drugist. Salesman of the books for all witnesses, all alibis. I wanted to find her to warn her. And then you call the police when you're sure it's too late. Well, how did I know she'd be up there? How? Why, you've set up a mighty nice alibi for yourself. You were alone with Sheila Mannix. Now, who is to say you didn't push her? Oh, stop it. You don't know what you're talking about. You've no right. I was trying to help her. That's all. I... I won't listen to you. I'm going home. You sit down, Miss Johnson. Now, go on, sit down. I'm holding you for a while. It's going to take more than a cock-and-bow story like that to get you out of this. We're going to check, Miss Johnson. We're going to do an awful lot of checking. I was a good citizen. I did my duty. I tried to save her, and you... Can I see you for a minute? Now, you just stay right there, Miss. We're not through you. Oh, murder. That's what they're saying. I'm murdered. He's saying that to me. After all the good, I was only trying... Now, what are they saying? It's about me. I know it. I know it. Well, Miss Johnson, we know what happened now. You know? What do you mean you know? I told you. That's how it happened everywhere. I'll tell you something. I've got to believe you. There's nothing I can do about it. Nothing you can do? Well, what should you do? Instead of brightening the life out of me, you should... Are you listening to me for a change? Miss Johnson, I'd like nothing better than to throw the book at you, but I can't. We've got the man called Jack. He was picked up in the parade. There, there. I was right. I was right. The fellow that wrote the letter you found figured Miss Mannix might have moved. He didn't know where, so this morning he called the police. He told them the story, and that's how we caught her. Well, then that... Then... Then she was safe. He couldn't have killed her. That's right. Well, why was she on the roof? Why did she go there? She wasn't in any danger then, was she? No, she was. From you, because you found her and frightened her then. I was only telling her that there was nothing to be afraid of. Oh, sure. Sure, that's all. You know she was standing in the same place where her boyfriend was killed a year ago? And then you come along and mention the name of the man that she knew killed him? Now maybe you know why she was afraid and backed away from you. You didn't do a thing. Well, I want you to know something. I want you to sleep with it for the rest of your life. If you just called the police when you picked up that letter, Sheila Mannix would be alive right now. Now you think about that, huh? I... I can't see where I was wrong. Well, maybe I should have called sooner, but I did call. If you hadn't taken so long... Oh, get out of here. Well, get out, please, Miss Johnson. It's just too bad we can't send you where the other guy is going. He killed last year. You did it today and just as sure as if you'd shot her. Now, go on. Get out, Miss Johnson, please. Well, it's all right, Lieutenant. I understand. I can see why you're upset. I am sorry. I... I was only doing what I thought right. That's all. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't. If they'd got there sooner, it never would have happened. I've nothing to reproach myself about. Nothing. Oh, here I'm so upset. Whole days of work, my gray silk dress ruined. They'll never be able to get that coffee stain out. Suspense. In which Miss Paula Winslow starred in tonight's presentation of The Death Parade. Next week, we bring you a story of a postmaster and his search for an unwelcome package. We call it Fragile Contents Death. That's next week on Suspense. Suspense is transcribed in Hollywood by Anthony Ellis. Tonight's story was written by Shirley Gordon. The music was composed by Renee Gerrigan and conducted by Wilbur Hatch. Featured in the cast were Stacey Harris, Jack Prussian, Frank Gerstle, Clayton Post, George Walsh, Virginia Eiler, Howard McNeer, Helen Cleave, and Jack Carroll. Leave it to enterprising Americans to make a good thing of the ground observer corps. Many a boy has met many a girl on the skyline parapets of the ground observers, indicating that a two-hour tour of voluntary duty doesn't require the eyes to be aloft every minute of the time. Join the ground observers at your local civil defense office. Two hours a week is all you need serve at your own convenience. Stay tuned now for five minutes of CBS News to be followed on most of these same stations by my son Jeep. To the CBS Radio Network. CBS Radio Network.