 And now, tonight's presentation of Radio's outstanding theatre of thrills, Suspense. Tonight, we bring you a story of the death of a postman in the search for a missing letter. We call it the Seventh Letter. So now, starring Stacey Harris, here is tonight's suspense play, The Seventh Letter. 7L32 requests detectives at Corner Hatteras and Robelar Streets notify the coroner. The place, a suburban residential area near a large city in Southern California. The time, 4.15 a.m., the body of a man had been found by a police patrol unit. The body was dressed in the blue-gray of the post office department. And a truck belonging to that department was at the curb. A letter box nearby had been unlocked and stood open. Six letters from that box were on the sidewalk near the body. The postman had been on a collection run. Someone had stopped him from completing that run by placing a knife in his back. 90 seconds after the police officer contacted communications, the message was relayed to a divisional detective bureau. Why don't you tell me one story about you? Yes. I've already told you. Yeah, I've got it. I don't believe that, lunch. Hatteras and Robelar, right? Now, come on, Larch. Tell me, what were you doing in that alley? I couldn't sleep, so I took a walk. In an alley at 3.30 in the morning? I was on my way home when those officers... Now, don't lie to me, mister. You know what you were doing behind those houses to the Y. I wasn't doing anything. Were the lights on in any of them? I didn't know that. Now, come on, level with me, mister. I am, Lieutenant. In a minute. Larch, how long have you been married? Two years. Practically a newlywed, huh? How's your wife going to feel about you now? Please, I've never been in any trouble. Say it before. What? Before. Say it. Before? Okay, now you're learning. What is it, sir? Hot one just came in. We better roll. All right, if Johnson booked this peeping time. No, please, I've got a family. I've got a responsibility. Get him out of here. Let's go, mister. Please. I'll meet you on the hall. I was only taking a walk. You can explain it to the court in the morning. You don't believe me either, do you? Doesn't matter what I believe, the Lieutenant said, book you. Hey, Johnson? Yeah. I'll pray for him. What? The Lieutenant. I'll pray for him. What's the charge, Saul? Lag. Prowler. Empty your pockets, mister. Put your stuff on the counter. Everything? Everything. 32 found the body. Lieutenant, you really think you should book that man? He wasn't on private property. No one called in to complain. Tomorrow morning you'll walk out of here congratulating himself. Tomorrow night he'll be back on his window, Ralph. What makes you so sure? Dahl, you ever committed a film? No. You ever wanted to? Well, everybody has. What stopped you? I guess I was afraid I'd be caught. Well, that's what keeps most of them in line. The rest of the two dumbed to be afraid of the law. They got a wire across, figure they can outsmart it. But nobody's completely honest, huh, Lieutenant? Nobody's, son. Oh, come on. You don't really... Look, when you've been here a while, you won't argue with me. Where's that bunny at? Hatteras and Roblox. What? What's the matter? I live on Hatteras, just a block from that corner. The time, 4.43 a.m. Lieutenant Joseph Carter and Sergeant Saul Morris arrived at the suburban intersection. A few minutes later, a unit from the department's crime lab arrived, followed by a postal inspector. By checking the collection times indicated on the mailbox, the time of death was set at 2.55 a.m. The uniformed officers searched the area, but the murder weapon was not found. The time? 5.07 a.m. You find out anything, Mac? Yeah, Lieutenant. Lots of sound sleepers in this neighborhood. Well, is that all? Yeah, that's it. Nobody heard nothing. Okay. Thanks. Saul? Coming, Lieutenant. Go. How about it, where's his ID? I got it off his driver's license. Here. Henry R. Gilligan, 1914, list late from age 52. Case of accident, notify Elizabeth Gilligan. Well, see, somebody does that, huh, Saul? Yes, sir. Oh, do you have anything else in his pockets? Just the usual keys, cigarettes, matches, some money. How much? $17 and some change. Oh, Lieutenant. Yes, Inspector? The crime lab boys want to take those letters downtown. Well, that's your department. Oh, it's all right. But you can't hold up the mail, you know. I'll have to hand them back this afternoon. You have them. How many letters did you find? Six. Any of them have a return address on the envelope? Oh, but one. I made a list of the letters. Who they were going to and the five return addresses. A lot of appreciated copy, if it isn't too much trouble. Oh, no, no, no, no trouble at all. I'll do it right away. Okay, to take the body in. Yeah. I can have him. All right, come on, you guys. Look, 52. I guess that's from being outside so much. Yeah. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor a gloom of night stays these couriers. What's that? Something a Greek historian wrote. Oh. Starting to get light. You want a cigar? No thanks. You see that white picket fence down there? Yeah, I believe I do. At your place? Mm-hmm. A boy and I painted that fence last Sunday. Sure seems funny. A murder in a section like this. Oh, how do you mean? Well, it's such a nice, quiet neighborhood. That's what we're looking for. Mm-hmm. Nice, quiet killer. After a final word with the postal inspector, the two detectives drove slowly through the nearby streets. Another mailbox was located three blocks from the intersection of Hatteras and Robelar. At 5.52 a.m. they checked back into division headquarters. All right, Saul, let's get on that report, huh? Right. I sure can't figure out why anybody would want to kill a posing. Oh. You got an angle? Johnson. Yeah, Lieutenant? Where's the Scrammer? His name's Gillis. Narcotics picked him up a few minutes ago. The doc's looking him over. Hope they don't keep him down here all night. They won't. Saul. Mm-hmm. Saul, suppose you'd mailed a letter down there last night. 38.30 pickup. Yeah. Long about midnight, you decided you wanted it back. What would you have done? Well, I'd have been there at 2.55 and asked Gilligan to return it to me. Except you wouldn't have given it back to you. Once the letter's mailed, it's against postal regulations to return it. Mm-hmm. Well, then I'd have forgotten about it. Would you? Well, would you have killed to get it back? Ah, no, Lieutenant. What could anybody write in a letter that'd be that important? I don't know, Saul. I don't know, but somebody does. You think that's what happened? No, what else could it be? Seven letters were mailed, Saul, and the person that mailed the seventh was waiting there when Gilligan arrived. Saul, Gilligan, take the mail out of the box, and he approached him, asked him for his letter. Gilligan refused to give it to him. They argued, and one thing led to another, and the knife ended the argument. The mail was rifled, the letter found. Whoever did it went home to bed. It sounds good. It is good. Look, we know six people mail letters in that box. We've got the letters, right? Yeah. Okay. We find the person that mailed that seventh letter. We've got our killer. By checking the city directory, they made a list of the families living in the area nearest the mailbox at Hatteras and Roblar. The list was then sent to the records bureau where a make was run on every person on it between the ages of 14 and 70. After being relieved by the day watch, Carter reported to his superior and advanced his theory concerning the death of the postman. He was told to check it out. The time, 8 24 a.m. Yeah, Louise. We're in the kitchen. Doc, we heard all about it. Oh, that's so. Yeah, boy, I'm working right in our own block. Are you going to catch him? I'm going to try. You know who did it? Bobby, sit down and finish your breakfast. Oh, Bobby. You want to eat before you go to bed, Joe? Not going to bed this morning. You're not? Oh, when you're going to sleep? Tonight. I've been put on days a while. So you can catch the murder, huh? Boy, I hope you get it before money so I can kill all the kids at school. Bobby, if you finish, go outside and play. A pop. Bobby, Jimmy's out in his backyard. Okay, Mom. If you promise you'll look around for my scout knife. All right, dear, I'll look. See you later, Pop. Maybe Jimmy and me will go down to the corner and see the blood. Here's your coffee, Joe. You want anything besides the cereal? You'll have to fix it. Oh, what's the matter? Same old thing. Another one of your headaches? Mm-hmm. Call the doctor? Yeah, I have an appointment at nine. Margaret's taking me. Margaret Richards? Yeah. Joe, if you're going to take off your coat, take that gun off too, will you? Put it somewhere. All right. How long would you do it last night? Bobby and I went over to Mrs. Gaithers for a while. She was having one of those cooking ware parties. How many times did you get to sleep? About three. I was reading. You better start getting more rest or you'll wind up back in that sanitarium. What do you want me to do, Joe? Just sit here every night with my hands folded. I'm tired of looking at these walls. You're never home except to sleep. Even when you are, you don't take me out of you. All right, all right. Forget it. Hand me the milk, will you? When you get back, I got a list I want you to take a look at. What list is that? Suspects. You know most of them. Let me see it now. John and Nancy, Robinson, Bert and Margaret, Rick. Joe, these are neighbors, friends of ours. Why don't I kill that postman? If you believe that, you shouldn't be on this case. Why not? Because of Bobby and me. We live here too, you know. You can't make a friend one day and have your husband suspect him of being a criminal the next. One of them has done big time. I don't believe it. Ask your friend, Bert Richards. Bert? Margaret's husband? He did two years for assault. Are you sure? I'm sure. I ran a make on all of them. When was he in? Four years ago. Then Margaret knows. She's never told me. I want you to ask Margaret if Bert mailed a letter after 8.30 last night. What if he did? Well, we found six letters down at the corner. I think seven were mailed. I've got to go. Will you ask for it, Bobby? I'm coming, Margaret. Oh, wait. No, Joe. I don't know. I'll have to think about it. You don't look sick. Well, I'm not really sick. I don't like that. I'm in here, Bobby. Jimmy Claymore and me went down the corner. What, no blood or nothing? I know. You're going to catch that murderer, Pop. You got a plan? Yeah. Boy, I sure wish I could help you. Well, maybe you can, Bobby. If you really want to. If I want to. Pop! Okay, okay. Now, you've got a promise not to talk about it in this to anybody. Well, I promise. Scott's on her. Okay. That's fine, Bobby. What do you want me to do first? Well, I got to find out a few things about a neighbor's, Bob. Like what? Well, like... Jimmy's father worked nights and days. He switched over a couple of months ago. Mm-hmm. Why don't you ask Jimmy if his father mailed a letter late last night, huh? Because I got to know the name of every person who was near that corner between 8.30 last night, 2.55 this morning. Oh. In case somebody saw the killer, huh, Pop? That's right, son. Well, if somebody did, don't you think he'd come and tell you? Might not. Might be afraid to. Oh, yeah. Okay, I'll ask him. Only what, Bobby? He knows somebody who went down to that corner late last night. Oh. Who? Your mother? What you get down there for? To mail a letter. Listening to the seventh letter, tonight's presentation in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense. Wednesday night is your night for excitement with the FBI in peace and war, and tomorrow night is no exception. Since a police chief is all set to use his information as the inside man to expose the bosses of a gambling ring. If you like your entertainment on the active side, don't miss the thrills when the FBI in peace and war declares war on a group of corrupt officials tomorrow night at this time. Remember, the FBI in peace and war is yours to hear every Wednesday night over most of these same stations. And now we bring back to our Hollywood soundstage, Stacey Harris starring in tonight's production The Seventh Letter, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. 847 a.m. After learning that his wife had left that house late the night before to mail a letter, Carter checked the list of the six letters found near the Postman's body. Five of the letters held a return address. The sixth was addressed to a Mr. James Young in care of a local hotel. Carter had never heard of Mr. Young. Time, 9.57 a.m. Louise Carter and her friend Margaret Richards had left the doctor's office and entered a nearby drugstore. Want some cream in your coffee, Margaret? With this figure? No, thanks. I wish I could gain a few pounds. Doctor does, too. What'd he say? Are you all right? Yes, yes. He says I worry too much. Don't we all? Louise, is Joe investigating that murder? Yes. He's working with the homicide department on it. Burt wanted me to ask you. He's got a crazy idea. He might be a suspect. Burt? Well, for heaven's sakes, why? Well, I... Look, Louise, I never told this to another soul in our neighborhood. If you weren't my dearest friend, I'd never... You can trust me. You know you can. Well, a few years ago, Burt got into a fight. When he was getting the worst of it, he picked up a bottle to defend himself. Of course, he didn't hurt anybody with it, but they arrested him just the same. How long was he in? Oh, just overnight. Just as soon as they knew all the circumstances, they even apologized. Oh. Well, it wasn't serious. Of course it wasn't. But try and convince Burt. See, he's afraid Joe will find out about that and, you know, get the wrong idea. Well, you tell Burt he hasn't a thing to worry about. Oh, thanks, honey. As a matter of fact, Joe's looking for someone who mailed a letter in that box last night. A letter? Mm-hmm. What is it? I sent Burt down to mail a letter just after midnight. 15 a.m. Carter checked with the homicide men assigned to the case. Mrs. Gilligan had been unable to furnish them with any possible motive for her husband's murder. And according to her, Gilligan had had no known enemies. The autopsy report showed that the wound had been made by a pocket or a switchblade knife. 10.47 a.m. Carter arrived at the crime lab. He was joined there by the postal inspector. They were informed that none of the envelopes had held a clear set of fingerprints. 11.05, they examined the letter addressed to James Young. Certainly nothing distinctive about the envelope, is there? No. Inspector, could you open it, please? Oh, sure. Looks like a greeting card of some kind. I hope it's one of those funny ones. Here you are. Happy birthday from Uncle Burton and Margaret. Well, that isn't very original. Is there any help, Lieutenant? Lieutenant? No. It's not very original. Is there any help? Oh, no. Well, that's the way it goes. I might as well put these letters in my briefcase. I didn't know Gilligan, but some of the boys who did thought the best of him. They can't imagine why anyone would want to kill him. No. Neither can I. We're all hoping you catch the person that did it. Yeah. Now, you ready, Inspector? Yes, indeed. You call us any time. We'll always do our best to help. No doubt left in his mind now. He knew who had written the seventh letter. The time, 12.01 p.m. He arrived home. Where's your mother? Is she back yet? No, she'll be home soon. She called a few minutes ago. What are you taking everything out of your dresser for? I'll put it all back. Just don't forget. Hey, Pop, you see my scout knife? My senior what? My scout knife. Mom promised to help me find it, but she never did. Oh, when did you lose it? Well, I don't know. We have a troop meeting this afternoon. I want... Hey, is that Mom? Bobby, if it is your mother. Yeah, I'll ask Mom. Bobby, wait. Come here. Yeah? Look, I've got something important to say to your mother. But this is important too. Our meeting's at 1.30. Bobby? Let me catch that murderer, don't you? Well, sure. Then you stay here, son. Oh, Joe, I didn't know you were home. Where's Bobby? He's in his room. The doctor gave me another prescription. Some pills for my nerves. And you... You should have heard Margaret lying about Bert. According to her, he was only in jail overnight. You asked her about him, didn't you? Yes. Is she saying anything about him mailing a letter last night? Yes. Oh, did he? She said that he did, yes. Looks like he killed that man, doesn't it? Does it? I want to change my dress. Do you fix Bobby any lunch? No. Do you want anything? Not now. Louise? Hmm? What could be written in a letter that would be worth a man's life? Oh, really, Joe? I haven't time to play games. This is no game. Well, I... I don't know. You're lying. Joe... You mailed a letter last night. No. Bobby told me... Bobby told you? You questioned Bobby about me? I was one of your suspects, but instead of coming to me, you questioned Bobby? Louise, tell me about the letter. All my life, I've heard that a man had to have something wrong with him to want to be a cop, but I never believed it till now. Now, this morning... this morning, you knew what I was looking for, but you didn't open your mouth. Just now, you were going to let me believe Bert Richards killed that man, and we both know who did. No. I know something about it. Come on, Louise, what was in that letter? I didn't mail any letter. I'll get Bobby in here. I'll find out which one of you is lying. Joe! Wait! I... I went out to mail it. I told Bobby I was going to, but I... I changed my mind before I got to the corner. Is that the truth? If it isn't, you'd beat it out of me, wouldn't you? Where's the letter now? It's in my purse. Is this it? Yes. It's to your sister. And I wish I'd mailed it. Dear Belle, just a note to let you know I understand, and I appreciate your thoughts about Joe and me. But it's too late, too many things have happened. I've made up my mind to leave him. You've what? You finish reading it. No, please. Go on, read it. For a... while just after I came out of the sanitarium, I... Oh, Joe, go on, Louise, go on. Joe was his old self. But that lasted only a few days. It's hard for me to tell you about Joe, and the way he treats me. But his only love is his job and the power that goes with it. He hasn't time for me or for Bobby. He's forgotten how to be a husband. Oh, Joe, I can't. Okay. Thanks for calling. Found out who killed the postman. There's a man named Gillis, an addict. He decided to talk after being off the stuff all day. Last night, he thought he was being tailed, so he dropped some stuff he was holding into the mailbox, and went back to get it. The postman refused to give it to him. I don't suppose there's anything I can say. No. You're sure it's too late? I mean, there's just no chance at all. Why didn't you mail that letter last night? Mom? I told you, Joe, I changed my mind. Why? Why? What was the reason? Mom, aren't you going to help me find my knife? Don't you know, Joe? Or have you forgotten about him, too? Come on, Bobby dear, I'll help you. Come on. Which Stacy Harris starred in tonight's presentation of the seventh letter. Be sure to listen again next week when we bring you another presentation of Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills. Suspense. Directed in Hollywood by Anthony Ellis. Tonight's story was written by Charles B. Smith. The music was composed by Lucian Marowak and directed by Wilbur Hatch. Featured in the cast were John Daener, Arlie Baer, Victor Perron, George Walsh, Vivi Genus, Richard Beals, Paula Winslow, and Jim Nusser. The life of an insurance investigator may be dangerous, but it's thrilling, too, and you can hardly blame yours truly, Johnny Dollar, for pursuing his unusual career. Nor can anyone blame you for following Johnny Dollar as he moves around from clue to clue until every case of mayhem or fraud that he tackles is finally solved. Five nights a week, yours truly, Johnny Dollar, will keep you in a state of high suspense as he ferrets out the chisellers, the crooks, and even the killers who think they have executed a perfect crime. Don't miss a single exciting chapter of Johnny's current case. Listen for yours truly, Johnny Dollar, every Monday through Friday night over most of these same stations. Stay tuned for five minutes of CBS News to be followed on most of these same stations by my son Jeep. Erica listens most to the CBS Radio Network.