 And now, Auto-Lite and its 60,000 dealers and service stations present... Suspense! Auto-Lite brings you Fibromigui and Molly in... Backseat Driver. A suspense play, produced and directed by Anton M. Leader. Oh, looks like old home we can't suspense tonight. Old home we can't? Well, I wouldn't say that, not with millions of Auto-Lite resistor spark plugs finding new homes in every make of car in America. I know, hello. I'm at old home week because... I have. There just isn't going to be any old or new home for more and more narrow gap spark plugs because they're being replaced in their old homes by wide gap Auto-Lite resistor spark plugs. With Auto-Lite resistor spark plugs, your car, my car, Fibers car, everybody's car, idle smoother, gives better performance with lean gas mixtures, saves gas dollars, and cuts down spark plug interference with radio and television reception. There's one way for every car to be spark plugged right with Auto-Lite resistor spark plugs. Only Auto-Lite offers car and truck owners everywhere the sensational advantages of the resistor type spark plug. And now Auto-Lite presents Fibromigui and Molly in a tale well calculated to keep you in. Suspense! It can't happen to you. You read about stuff like that in the papers. Girls murdered and mutilated. Drunks left dying in the gutter for the handful of chains they had in their pockets. Lonesome old men tortured because some hoodlum gets the idea. They're misers with a pot of gold hidden under the floorboards of the shack. Sure, you know it's real, but it can't happen to you. Oh, you get your fair share of trouble. I've been a professional man here in Los Angeles for 30 years. I've met up with bums and grifters and petty sharpers. They're around in any business. But the viciousness, the real deep-down dirt, that's for somebody else. You do your work and go home to your family. And for a real bang-up evening to break the monotony, you take your wife out to a movie. That's what I did that Saturday night. We'd driven all the way in from the San Fernando Valley to Beverly Hills for a picture Ellie especially wanted to see. Wasn't that a good movie, Joe? Just the kind I like. Songs and dancing and girls in pretty clothes. I get so tired of cops and robbers. What's wrong with cops and robbers? Oh, you know what I mean. Murder movies. Honestly, all the policemen, stupid and all the crooks sneering out of the corners of their mouths. Yeah, the stuff those Hollywood boys dream up. You think the streets were knee-deep in blood and you couldn't hear yourself think for machine guns. Yeah. Well, here we are, honey. You get in first. Okay. All right, Ellie? Just a second. All right, Joe. Don't forget the gas. I've got plenty to take us out to the valley. I'll fill up at Bills. Dee. Dee. You remember how that song goes, Joe? What song? In the picture. You know, two on the moon. The one the boy sang to the girl. Oh, that one. Mm-hmm. Oh, heck, I don't know. Oh, well. We'll be hearing it again on the radio. How about turning it on? The radio? Yeah. Sure. Set her around 1100. We ought to get some news in a few minutes. I'd like to hear whether they caught that fellow. That awful mass murder? Uh-huh. They spotted him in LA this afternoon, but he got away. I know. You told us it suffered. It makes you shiver. Don't worry. We won't get away with it. We left the lights of Beverly Hills behind and turned into Coldwater Canyon. It's as quick away as any to get us across the Hollywood Hills to the valley. It's dark in the canyon. Quiet. With mighty little traffic at night. I cut my lights up full and we swept up the side of the ridge. News program came on, but I didn't pay much attention while I was talking about brush fires. They'd already put out one near my place, so they were still patrolling it. We were over the ridge and sliding down to the valley before the program got to the part I wanted to hear. There it is. Pick it up higher, Ellie. And now the latest news on the New Hampshire murderer. Two weeks ago, Louis Matrick wiped out an entire family in Greenlee, New Hampshire. Today, he was spotted 3,000 miles from the scene of his crime. At 5.30 this afternoon, a patrolman saw and definitely identified Matrick in downtown Los Angeles. He is here. However, by darting through heavy traffic at the risk of his life, the killer was again able to make his escape. According to neighbors of the slaughtered family, Matrick first appeared in Greenlee about a year ago. From fingerprints in the Nolan home, Louis Matrick has been identified as Lloyd Matthews, ex-convict. He is wanted for questioning in the robbery and murder of a New York storekeeper a year ago. Oh, my. A crime that netted the killer less than $20. Can you imagine? Matrick, or Matthews, is 32 years old, height 5 feet 9 inches, weight 155 pounds. He has blue eyes, light brown hair, nose slanted to the left. When seen this afternoon, he was wearing a blue suit and a gray pork pie hat. Awful. Awful. Not pretty, no. And he's somewhere around L.A. this minute. Joe. You think it's right us leaving Annie and Bud all alone while... Now, Ellen, Annie's grown up and Bud's a smart youngster if I do say so myself. You can't wrap kids in cotton wool. I know. Oh, I'm silly, I guess. Neighbors close all around. All they'd have to do is yell. But what would make a young man do a dreadful thing like that? Could be a lot of things. Maybe he's got a screw loose. Maybe he went nuts over a girl. Maybe he gets a kick out of killing like some... All he answers, don't you? Oh, Joe! Hey, what the? Keep going. Go on, keep going. I got a gun here and I'll use it. Tell him you. Ellie? Against the back of my neck. I can feel it. Cold. Well, are you gonna move? Okay. Okay, brother. You're the boss. You said it. I'm boss and remember it. Otherwise, I'll blow a hole through your wife's head. I've had experience in these things. For suspense, auto light is bringing you fibromigui and molly. In radio's outstanding theatre of thrills, suspend. I've got to run. My wife Mary just called up and said someone stole our auto light resistor spark plugs right out of the engine of our car. Gosh, Hap, I didn't know they were that precious. Skip along. So long. Oh, that Mary. What a girl. She's wonderful. I said to Hap the other day, she's got everything an auto light resistor spark plugs got. Hap comes right back and says to me, has she got a 10,000 ohm resistor? Does she save me gas and money, Harlow? And then right away he says, tell me this, does Mary improve radio and television reception? Well, by Cornelius, I couldn't stand it any longer. What's Mary got to do with that, I cried. Nothing, shouts the triumphant Hap. Right, I shout back, but by Cornelius, those sleek, slim, trim, smart, swift, starting auto light resistor spark plugs have. When it comes to plugs, even mine. There's no plug as good as a set of auto light resistor spark plugs. And those wonderful wonders are made by the auto light company, the marvelous makers of spark plugs, batteries, complete ignition systems, and over 400 automotive aviation and marine parts. And now, auto light brings back to our Hollywood soundstage, Fibromigui and Mully in Backseat Driver, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. I drove that car like we were skirting the rim of the Grand Canyon with nothing between us on the bottom but a mile of country air. This was it, the thing that happens to other people, the ones that end up on slabs in the morgue. But not to me, not to Ellie. First car we'd seen since we left traffic swooped down behind us. It passed, but not before the headlights caught our passenger clean in my rear view mirror. He was hunched forward, sitting on the edge of the back seat so he could keep the gun rammed into the nap of Ellie's neck. He had light brown hair, pale eyes, and a nose that slanted. His mouth twitched jittery. As the car went by, his eyes caught mine in the mirror and flickered. Keep your eyes on the road. Sure, sure. Lose your hat? Right, boy. Like I said, you know all the answers. No, I didn't lose it, I stuffed it down a drain. Still wearing the blue suit, though. I figure it changed pretty quick now. Think yours will fit me? You can have the suit and the car. Ellen, Ellen. Joe, it's Mattrick. The missus is bright, too. He crawled in here while we were in the movie. Joe, you should have had the car door fixed. You know better. Honey, I meant to. I was going to tend to that tomorrow. Shut up! I'd see if you can both be bright enough to keep your trap shut. Turn left on Ventura. Take the slow lane. And don't try playing no tricks. I've been in this bird before. Okay, by me. That's real quiet of you. Get out the open country, Matt. Then I'll take the missus up on that offer of the suit and car. What happens to us? Why, you just walk home. What else? Play it safe, and you ain't got a thing to worry about. That was a laugh. That was nothing to worry about. That'd kill ya. Once we got out in open country, we'd have a chance of walking away from the car. All a murderer can hope for is time. He doesn't leave witnesses around to get the law on his tail. One second sooner than necessary. All I could do was stall and pray to make what feeble gestures I could at Lady Luck. The thing that came into my mind was so risky it brought my hair up on end. But there was a chance. Provided that trigger finger didn't start jerking. In the bright lights of the boulevard, I didn't think he'd notice. But a traffic officer would. I turned into Ventura and took the far lane, obedient as a whipped pup. Must've made two or three miles before I heard what I was hoping for. What's that? Huh? Oh, the siren? Why an ambulance, I guess. We hear a lot of... That ain't no ambulance. It's a motorcycle cop. Joe, it's young Mike Kennedy. He patrols this stretch. What are you up to? What are you trying to pull? Nothing. The kid's a friend of ours. Think you can get me easy, huh? Well, I warned you. I ain't going alone. He lives near us, practically grew up under our feet. All he wants is to pass the time of day or maybe send a message to our Annie. Yeah, you start popping on, we'll all be dead. Keep your shirt on and I'll get rid of him. Okay. But it better be good. I pulled to the curb and Mike came up alongside. He sat balancing the bike between his knees and the grin on his face was a mile wide. It had worked. At least we were still alive and Mike wasn't two feet away. But where did we go from here? I had to think that my brain was wet wool. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Well, what do you know if it isn't Uncle Joe? Something. Funny, kid? After all the times you've read us the riot act about observing the letter of the law. Oh, brother, wait till I tell Annie. Mike Kennedy, what's the matter with you? I didn't notice anything wrong. Hi, Aunt Ellie. Nothing much the matter. Just Uncle Joe here proceedings sedately out the boulevard with his headlights up full. Headlights? My golly, that's right. I must have forgotten it, didn't I? You ought to forget those things, Joe. Someday a big bad cop might come along and haul you off to the state. Hey, is that Annie back there? No, no, it isn't. It's our new neighbor, Mike, Mr. Anderson. Oh, that right. Glad to meet you, sir. Hello? I didn't know there were any vacancies out our way. Well, there weren't until recently. Mr. Anderson has taken over the Charles place. The Charles place? Are you kidding? No. Looks like things got too much for old man Charles at last. He's clearing out for good. Uh, kind of sudden, wasn't it? I guess so. Well, that's too bad. For old man Charles, I mean. Mighty nice for Mr. Anderson, though. Good places are hard to find these days. All right, Uncle Joe, I'll let you off this time. Give my love to Annie. Mike, watch it. Yes, sir? Uh, nothing. Just come see us soon, boy. Always glad to have you. Thanks. I'll be around my next night all. I got a date with Annie. So long. That was that. Mike turned his bike and headed back down the boulevard. The chance had come and gone. But it felt to me like half my mind would off at the boy yelling at him. Must have been half a minute before I could pull myself together and ease back into traffic. Nobody said anything. I didn't dare to and neither did Ellie. I couldn't see her, but I could feel her holding herself stiff as a ramrod, scared even to turn her head. When two people have lived together as long as we have, each one knows what the other one is thinking. I went back to driving and praying. The bathroom, cutting my eyes up to the mirror, just in case there might be a white motorcycle eye following us. There wasn't, of course. Back in the back, I knew he was watching too. Those flickering eyes darting like lightning between us and the rear window. He was too busy checking to talk. Not that that helped much. Rage and fear were pouring out of him so thick you could have grabbed a hunk of the atmosphere in your hand. It was queer to drive along like that on the crowded highway. Traffic streaming both ways. Lights from drug stores and cocktail joints and eating houses blazing to the sky. And to know if I lifted a finger for help I'd sign our death warrants. It had to be luck. All luck. It was still a chance I'd get it. The way I figured it, we'd started out with just about enough gas to get us back to Bill's station. When we hit that, the meter ought to show empty. Gas gauge was hidden from me by the rim of the steering wheel, but I was pretty sure I was right. I waited until I saw the red and green lights above Bill's pumps a block and a half away. And very slow and easy, I slumped over for a peek at the gauge. I leaned just too far. Sure. What now? What were you looking at? I was just easing the crick out of my neck. Yes, you was. You was looking at the dash. You... Oh, so that's it. Fresh out of gas. Look, I just remembered... Don't give me that, you knew it all along. From now on, you keep your hands on the wheel, Mack, but leave me to the driving. Turn into that filling station. Get high-test gas and fill her up. Hi, Bill. Good evening, Ellie. Good evening, sir. Up to the top? Yeah, Ethel. Ethel, it is. Here you've been to the pictures, huh? Uh-huh. You people know everybody in the whole valley. We've lived here 30 years. From back when this was just farmland. Of course, we know lots of people. I don't like it. Get the gas and get out. Say, I was up to Miranda's for supper. Is that right? Oh, boy. Her chili gets better every time. Don't she hot can, but it does. She's saving something for you. She said she'd be around after the show. Oh, my. I saw Miranda this afternoon and told her we'd be by for sure, Joe. Uh, that'll be $3.50 on the nose. $3.50. Thanks, Bill. Uh, same deal. What was all that about? Nothing much. Come on. Come on, I got to ask everything twice. Miranda runs a drive-in up the road a ways. On show nights, we usually drop in for a carton of chili to take home. I just hope she won't call home when we don't show up and get Annie all worried. Wait a minute. Drive-in, you said? Yeah. And this Miranda could start checking on you? I didn't mean it like that, it's just... She could call your Annie and between the two of them they'd have the cops on the lookout for you before midnight. You're crazy. Like a fox. I ain't kept ahead of the buttons all this time by taking chances. We'll just pick up that chili back. You want to go to Miranda's? Why not? Leave Annie get her beauty sleep. I can cover a lot of ground before tomorrow morning. I ain't eaten so good lately I could use the food too. And with you and the missus the front for me? What's to worry about? He was right about that. I went back to driving and praying. Miranda's place is one of those goldfish bowls, mostly glass with light pouring out across the space mark for outside service. She saw us pulling up, grabbed a quart carton off the back shelf and hustled to the door. Here you are. Better fix up that chili bit. See it's about time Ellie and Joe was showing up figuring the distance from Beverly Hills. Thank you Miranda. Who's that in the back seat? I don't seem to recollect your face young man. Though anybody will tell you I never forget a face. This is Mr. Anderson Miranda. He just came out here from the east. Who's that effect? Say Joe, you planning to go straight up then to your home? Sure, why? Don't you do it. Go the back way. Even if it does take longer of course the brush fire between here and your place is out but there are still 50, 60 men patrolling it. What's that? Oh but that ain't nothing of what's going on further out the valley. That new fires clean out of control licking up hundreds of acres. They've been sending truckloads of firefighters past here all evening and the roads blocked for miles they tell me for miles they tell me and all them poor ranchers losing their homes. Being from the east you wouldn't understand but brush fires is awful things once they get out. Thanks. Start moving. We take the back way to your house. To our house? What say? Oh you staying with Ellie and Joe? Yeah until the roads until I can get into my own place. What are we waiting for? Night Miranda. Well goodbye. Be sure you come see me Mr. Anderson. I'll be looking for you. So there it was. We weren't going to the country. We weren't going to be left to rot at the foot of a cliff or buried deep in brush. No. We were going home. Home to the kids. Taking a murderer with us. I still couldn't see Ellie but I could feel her tensing up. Tight as a pulled draw string. Mr. Matrick you you didn't mean what you said did you? About coming home with us? You know a better place I can hide out till the roads open? It wouldn't be safe. We've got neighbors close all around. If somebody sees you. Nobody will see me. Nobody better. Joe couldn't we get around the fire? Yeah that would be better. We could try. There are other roads through the valley. Listen Matrick we'll nose around and find a way through some house. Shut it out. You heard the old bitty hundreds of acres burning firefighters cops. Get off the highway we're going home. No. No I won't have it. Joe you stop the car right here. Shut up. You heard me Joe I won't have him It doesn't matter. One word out of you. Joe stop. Helen Hush. Oh Joe. Don't say another thing. I'm sorry honey. Matrick's the boss. You've got to do like he says. That's telling her. Sure. Do like I say and everything will be rosy. You've got no call to worry about the kids. I like kids. As long as nobody gives me the brush off we'll wake them up soon as we get home and you and this Annie can fix up a chilly supper for us. We'll have us a picnic. And then soon as the fire's out we'll all take a trip to the country. Another picnic huh. You keep going. As long as you're breathing you keep going. Even when it looks like there's no way up you'll hang on by your toenails. We poked up and down those black valley streets the twist and turn and sometimes wind up in dead ends. Ellie stopped crying after a while. She slumped down with her head rolling on the seat back. Limp is a rag doll with the stuffing leaked out. It took a long time but it had to come to an end. I saw the bulk of the house looming up. There was light sneaking around the edges of the blinds up in Annie's room. She wasn't asleep after all. She'd be sitting in bed. Maybe plastering red stuff on her fingers and dreaming about the date with Mike. Bud's room was dark. He'd be wrapped in covers like in a cocoon and dreaming. Whatever boys dream I couldn't remember. I pulled up to the concrete walk I'd poured with my own hands before there was any Annie or Bud. I cut the lights. In a second or two my eyes got used to the dark. I could make out the high head jelly planted around the place and the roof rising up beyond it. Out, Mrs. Face the house. Now you'll Mac slide out the same side stand beside her. Slow and no funny business. I'm right behind you. All right, Uncle Joe and Ellie. Ellie. Ellie, honey. You all right? All right. You're walking. You're falling on me. Nothing wrong with her. That's my girl. Don't just stand there. Help me up. Here you are. The kids come busting out here. I won't have them mixed up in this. Well, how's he doing, boys? Got him through the gunhand on the right shoulder. See? A lucky shot, copper. If you weren't lucky you'd all be cold meat now. Maybe. Matt Rick, isn't it, Uncle Joe? That's him. Miranda scribed him to you. The old girl didn't miss a trick. She even knew you were taking the back way home. You left a clear trail, Uncle Joe. Slick work. I had to get him out of the car before the fireworks started. Ellie didn't stand a chance. She helped, though. Ellie catches on quick. How bad? A mean guy like Matt Rick. Make him think he don't want to do something and he'll break his neck doing it. I let on. I was trying to run out of gas. That got us to bills. Then we both made out there was no sense going to Miranda's, so we got bullied into going to Miranda's. It was a thousand to one. She'd run off at the mouth about the brush fires and scare him into hiding out. After that, all Ellie had to do was turn on the hysterics. He was dead set on coming here. Bright boy, like I said. Bright enough. You did all right, too, Mike. I was watching the rearview mirror all the time you were tailing us. But you never showed. You knew I was there, though. When one officer starts double-talking another officer, he wants to know why. Officer. Double-talk. You never said a thing to him, except that I'd bought some place out here. Yeah. The Charles play. Poor old man Charles. In a tough spot and moving off are good. What's wrong with that? Mattrick didn't anybody ever tell you it wasn't smart to take up with strangers? Maybe I'd better introduce myself. The name's Charles. Joe Charles, detective, homicide. Tonight I was off duty and was just taking my wife to a movie. Thank you, Fibber McGee and Molly for a splendid performance. Why, thank you. Thanks very much, bud. We're not used to doing a show with a gun stuck in our backs. No. We're used to doing them with Jack Benny breathing down our necks. A vice versa. But that guy over there, he looks familiar. Why, dearie, that's Mr. Wilcox. Old waxy himself? The guy that sells Johnson's wax on our Tuesday show? Not waxy on Thursdays, dearie. Sparky. Sparky, eh? Well, what do you know? Hey, Junior. Hello, Fibber. Hello, Molly. Hello, Mr. Wilcox. Say you two were terrific tonight. Drive over from West Fovista. Uh-oh. Molly, I'm afraid to answer that. Because if you did, I hope your car had auto light resistor spark plugs. See what I mean? And listen, pal. If I were you, I'd stop and see an auto light service man on the way home. That old bull. Listen, waxy. I mean, sparky. You don't have to tell me where to stop. I stopped on the way over. Why, those masterful miracles of manufacturing magnificence. Oh, now, McGee. McGee, that's Mr. Wilcox's story. Let him tell it. Well, what Fibber means is that auto light parts are original factory parts. Auto light parts and service and your car go together like McGee and Molly, Happen, Harlow, Amos and Andy. So when you replace worn out parts, visit your auto light service station or the dealer who sells your make of car and ask for original factory parts and service. Leading cars, use them all. Auto light makes them all. Be right. Get auto light parts and service. Just a minute, Fibber and Molly, don't go away. Oh, that's right. You want us to say that word. If you please. Oh, yeah. Well, go ahead, McGee. No, you say it, Molly. Well, why don't we both say it then? Okay. Well, I know you're going to want to hear Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills next week because Charles Lawton is going to be on the program. Yes. And in a famous story by John Collier called DeMortius. And it's another gripping study in Suspends. Tonight's Suspends Play was by Sally Thawson with music composed by Lucian Morrowek and conducted by Lud Blusken. The entire production was under the direction of Anton M. Leeder. In the coming weeks, Suspends will present such stars as James Mason, Jane Wyman, and many others. Make it a point to listen each Thursday to Suspends, Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills. And next Thursday, same time, hear Charles Lawton in DeMortius. Find auto light service stations listed in your classified telephone directory under automotive electrical equipment. You're right with auto light. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.