 Now, the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California, presents... Suspense! Tonight, Roma Wines bring you Mr. Zachary Scott as star of Murder Off Key, a suspense play produced, edited, and directed for Roma Wines by William Spear. Suspense, Radio's Outstanding Theater of Thrills, is 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 and entertaining guests, to your enjoyment of everyday meals. Yes, right now a glass full would be very pleasant, as Roma Wines bring you Mr. Zachary Scott, in a remarkable tale of... Suspense! If I could just shut out that singing, I'd be alright. But it goes on pounding inside my head, and I keep hearing violets screech those desperate urgent scales. The first time I heard her, I was sitting on the balcony outside the apartment. Everything was unnaturally still, the way it is late at night. Maybe that's why her singing sounded louder than it actually was. It was something abnormal about it, as though a control insider had snapped, and she couldn't stop that horrible noise that was coming from her throat. Went on over and over again, rising and falling, and scraping the hot night into shreds. It's pretty terrible, isn't she? What? I'm over here on the next balcony. Oh, sorry, I didn't see you. What'd you say? She's pretty terrible, isn't she? And she thinks that's a trained voice. Awful. Does she do it often or only when the moon is full? Oh, she goes on like that almost every evening. You must be new around here. I just got into New York this afternoon. Are you visiting Mr. Morley? Well, in a way. He went out of town, and I'm staying in his apartment. I didn't mean to sound prying, but he told me he was going on a vacation, and I wondered if he'd left. Her family must be all deathmutes. No, she lives alone. Well, that's not hard to understand. Hasn't the manager done anything about it? She has too much money. They'd never ask her to move. But someone should do something. Well, they could always try strangling her. What did you say? They could always try strangling her. She heard you. Do you think so? I hope so. Well, I must be going in. Good night. Good night. It was in the lobby the next afternoon that I met her. When she came up to me, I knew instinctively that she was the songbird of the night before. She was past middle age and was ignoring it. Her hair was dyed and piled up in coquettish curls, and she used some kind of heavy sweet perfume that was overpowering. She came tripping up with the usual old white poodle dog yapping at her heels. Pardon me. Would you hold this package for a moment? I have so many things I'll never find my key. Well, I understand. Oh, thank you so much. How petty. Is that nice making such a fuss at this charming gentleman? What will he think? Oh, I don't know what I'm going to do if this dreadful weather keeps up. Yes, it has been. I've always been on the delicate side, and I've never been able to stand the heat. When my husband was alive, he's dead now. He always whisked me away to the ocean the first warm day, even when I was in the theater. My manager would be furious. Well, I can understand. Oh, dear, I can't imagine where my key is. Would you hold petty for me? Well, I'm not... Oh, thank you. No, no, no, no, no, he won't hurt you. My husband used to say to me, Violet... My real name is Imogene, but he called me Violet. It's always been my favorite color. Violet, he used to say, you must go to the sea, or you'll be withering those lovely petals of yours. And before I knew it, we were in Atlantic City. Oh, there's that horrid little key on my key ring of all places. Well, those things sometimes happen. Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you. My husband used to always say, Violet, you're a woman who needs a man around. Of course, he was a pillar of strength himself. And to think of his dying of a gallbladder that way. Well, thank you again. What did you say your name is? Carlson. How nice. Carlson. Such a sturdy, dependable name, so suitable for a man. Thank you. You must come up and have tea with me sometime. I have a special Chinese brand. It smells like dead flowers. Going up? Going up, but only water and meat again. That next meeting would be never as far as I was concerned at that point. But it actually happened that night. She was at the scales again about nine o'clock, and there was a desperate urgency in her singing. It was a last frantic attempt to stop the clock and the double chins and the fading life. Those pathetic scales had a shrill terror that made me embarrassed listening to them. Well, as though I were eavesdropping on some shameful secret. It was when I went to leave the balcony that I saw the sheet music lying behind the urn. My impulse was a humanitarian one, and I threw it in the wastebasket. But for some unknown reason, I suddenly felt a kind of pity for that woman singing up alone there. The next thing I knew, I was on my way upstairs with the music. Yes? What do you want? Uh, his Mrs, um, is, uh, Violet in. Violet? I'm sorry, old boy. She must have given you the wrong number. Oh, I thought it was on this floor. Hold, uh, hold on a minute. If you mean Mrs. Pondekovitz in the next apartment? Oh, sorry to bother you. Going in for tea? Or do you have your own bank account? Thank you very much. Oh, not at all. I'm always glad to help a music lover. As I stood there in the hall, I began to think about that leer he had given me. I was about to turn back when the door opened. Oh, Mr. Carson, you've come for that tea after all. How nice. Oh, be quiet, Betty. Do come in. Oh, but I only can- Not another word, come along. Violet had outdone herself in a trailing negligee of purple chiffon, and the usual clutching hand went with the outfit. There was something obscene about that hand. Fingers heavy with diamonds, the red nails too polished. Obscene and pathetic. The room was heavy and operatic just like her. There were glass cases and curio cabinets filled with every imaginable kind of glittering thing. Rings, bracelets, brooches. Most of it in terrible taste, but all of it unquestionably expensive. During my collection, most everyone does. Your friend Mr. Morley just never- I do believe he's jealous of you. You know, he has a sixth sense about admirers. I remember when I was in the theater, he used to carry on dreadfully when my dressing room was filled with fans. He bit my husband in the leg. Oh, now, now sit down in this chair. I'm afraid all the others are too small for a beautiful woman like me. I'm afraid I'm too small for a beautiful woman like you. Well, I really came to return this music. It must have blown down on my balcony. Oh, roses of Piccadilly. It's always been one of my favorites. My husband simply adored it. I remember I sang it to him on Saturday night, and that Sunday afternoon he was dead. Well, I can't- Well, that must have been a shock. I sometimes wonder that I've found the courage and strength to go on. Of course, my music has been a great consolation. Oh, now, you sit right down. I won't be a moment. Petty will look after you, won't you, Petty? Roses are shiny. Oh, would you be a dear and answer that? It's probably the elevator boy. I've come to take the door. Oh, a new one. Yes, what is it? Oh, I've come to take the door. Oh, a new one. Yes, what is it? Oh, I came for Mrs. Pondack, his dog, to take him for a walk. Here he is, and he's all yours. Thanks. Come on, Rin Tin Tin. I didn't care for the way the elevator boy smirked. And as I sat there in her apartment with that heavy perfume suffocating me, I cared less for the trapped feeling I was beginning to have. It wasn't until two days later in the garage that the trap closed. Good morning, Mr. Carson. Can I do anything for you? No, thanks, Joe. Just want to get my sunglasses out of the compartment. Well, the car's right over here, sir. I cleaned it up for you. It was a mess, let me tell you. You must have run into something. What? The whole front was stuck with brown stuff and white fur, like you hit a dog or a cat, maybe. Funny. I don't remember hitting anything. Well, don't worry. I cleaned it all off. Hey, Joe, just a minute. Is something wrong? Well, tell that help of yours. My car is in an ash can. They've dumped all these old newspapers in the back. Oh, gee. I'm sorry, Mr. Carson. Hey, just give them to me. I'll throw them out. Boy, they sure are a mess. Looks like something out of the butcher shop, don't it? Well, it won't happen again. You can bet your bottom dollar on that. When I came upstairs, I was still trying to figure out the angle of those stained old newspapers, but I didn't have long to wait. I found out the minute I stepped in the lobby. Carson, thank heaven you're here. I've been out of my mind. It's petty. He's disappeared. We can't find him anywhere. I just know he's been run over. I just know it. Run over? But, well, when did this happen? Last night when this Richard boy took him out. Now, look, Mrs. Pondekker, it's like I told you. I only stopped him for a cup of coffee, and the next thing I know, the dog's gone. Of course he's gone. Some uncouth person in that saloon undoubtedly made off with him. Well, there's only one thing to do, and that is to offer a large reward. Don't you agree, Mr. Carson? Oh, yes. Yes, that's a good idea. But I knew, as sure as I was standing there, that nothing would bring petty back. Just as I knew that he had been in my car some time last night, lying on those old newspapers. That's why I wasn't too surprised at first when the heavy blond man with a soft voice came to see me. Mr. Frederick Carson? Yes, that's right. I'm from headquarters. I'd like to ask you a couple of questions about this Pondekker business. Have they found the dog? They knew about that. Well, she mentioned it to me. You two were pretty friendly, weren't you? Well, I spoke to a couple of... Say, what is this? A dog runs off and you come in my place full of innuendos? I don't see no need to get excited, Mr. Carson. I'm just checking up on the people who last saw her alive. I still say... What are you talking about? She's dead? Very much so. She was strangled sometime last night. For Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you a star, Mr. Zachary Scott, in Murder Off Key by Jean Russ Kern. Roma Wines' presentation tonight in Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills. Suspense. Between the acts of suspense, this is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines. This holiday season will be a round of gay homecomings, joyous reunions and festive entertaining. To graciously greet your guests, to add warmth to the welcome, to give extra full pleasure to your holiday meals, be sure to have plenty of Roma Wines on hand. Roma California Wines offer you sherry, port, muscatel and toque for entertaining, burgundy and sautern for mealtime enjoyment, and gay Roma California Champagne to make any happy occasion unforgettable. Each of these fine Roma Wines brings you the goodness of luscious grapes gathered at peak of flavor, gently pressed, then unhurriedly brought to delicious perfection under the patient guidance of Roma's ancient winemaking skill, bottled at Roma's own famed wineries in California's choicest vineyard districts. Enjoy the taste-luxury of fine Roma Wines more often, for Roma's new low prices enable you to save as much as one fourth. Incest on Roma Wines. No other wines offer you so much for so little. That's why more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wine. Roma, R-O-M-A, Roma Wines. And now Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood soundstage Zachary Scott as Frederick Carlson in Murder Off Key, a play well calculated to keep you in suspense. The heavy-blonde man with a soft voice asked a few more questions after that, and then he left. The motive was robbery. Very valuable jewelry and a great deal of money, everything gone. It seemed Violet was in the habit of drawing out large sums and keeping them around in old beaded purses and tarnished guilt boxes. It all fitted in with Violet, who was so helpless without her pillar of strength and who sang those desperate jangling scales. Obviously, she had no idea of financial matters. Somebody else had plenty of other ideas, and I was one of them. I knew it that night when I went around to the corner automaker. Yes, I was definitely one of them. There was no doubt about it. Do you mind if I join you, Mr. Carlson? It was a soft voice. Smiling down at me over a cup of coffee and a piece of pie. Murder a la mode. I always come here for their apple pie. You ever tried it? I haven't gotten round to it. You should. It's excellent. Can I have the sugar? Thank you. How did you happen to come here for your vacation? I don't know. I was short on cash, and when Morley wrote and suggested I stay in this place, it seemed like a good idea at the time. You don't have that letter, do you? Say, what is this? No need to get excited, Mr. Carlson. I was just asking. You really should try this pie. The apples are just right, firm and tart. What do you think happened to the dog? How should I know? It's a very interesting angle. I understand he was a regular burglar, and I'm always barked if anyone ever came to the door. And then he disappears the night before her death. Very convenient, don't you agree? It would look that way. Can I have some more of that sugar? Thank you. I never seem to get enough. Did you drive up to New York? That's right. I haven't run over any dogs or anything else, so you can skip that. There's no need to get excited, Mr. Carlson. I never suggested that you did. I was just asking a simple question. And if you haven't any more simple questions on your mind, I'll be going on. Of course. Don't let me detain you. I think I'll have another piece of this pie. You really should try it sometime, Mr. Carlson. As I walked away, I could feel him watching me. Hunched over the table, his small eyes were in suspicious. There was no doubt about it. I was the idea. I rode around on the top of a bus for almost an hour, and I kept thinking about the dog and the white fur and those stained newspapers. I knew I had to go to the garage and have another look at my car. The garage seemed deserted, and only one arc like cut the blackness that stretched silently ahead. It was when I passed the office booth that I first heard the voices. There were two men, and they were standing by my car. It was soft voice, full of apple pie and suspicion and wide awake on those two cups of coffee, and he was asking Joe about my car. It looked like he hit something, but I couldn't say it was a dog. It might have been a cat. But you're certain about the white fur. Was there anything else you noticed? No, I don't think... Well, there was them newspapers. At first I thought seeing this how they were all stained, that maybe he had put in them or whatever he hit, you know? Hey, excuse me a minute. Somebody must be out there. Well, Mr. Carlson, glad you came in. Perhaps you can clear up a few things for us. Look, I don't know anything about the newspapers or the stain, but I can tell you this much. I never ran over her dog, and I can prove it. Well, then, that's all we're interested in. I haven't taken the car out since I came to New York. Joe here can tell you that. Well, you did take it out once, Mr. Carlson, the night before last. Are you crazy? I'm sorry, Mr. Carlson, but I remember you called up and asked me to bring it around. Here, you can look at my record book. You must have forgotten about it, see? Because here, see? Here it is. Carlson, 9 o'clock. 9 o'clock? That must have been just about the time the elevator boy took the dog for his walk. That time on, soft voice was after me. I was his man, and he didn't miss a trick. Now, you say you talked to Carlson last Saturday. Yes, I was sitting out on the balcony. Did he mention Mrs. Pondek in the conversation? We heard her singing. She had an awful voice, and he asked about her, whether she had a family or lived alone. I don't remember anything else, but it was the oddest thing. I mean, his suggesting strangling her, and now this. Makes you think, doesn't it? And Mr. Carlson came to your door the other night? Yes. Yes, he was asking for some woman by the name of Violet. At first I never connected it with Mrs. Pondek. I guess she seemed a bit old for him. But you never can tell. Probably mutual interest in music. Yeah, that's right. I came to get the dog, and his Carlson guy opens a door. But I don't think nothing of it. Working on the elevator, you see a lot of that. Oh, some of the stuff I could tell you. It was about this time that I began hearing those scales again. It was so shrill and desperate, I thought everyone else must hear them too. I even heard her on the elevator. What are you staring at? Nothing, Mr. Carlson. This is your floor. Do you think the police will catch the guy who done it? I don't know. No, I figure it must have been somebody who knew her and been in her place. All those old dames always go for the young guys. I say, find her boyfriend and you got the killer. Am I right? Why ask me? How should I know? Well, you don't have to get sore, Mr. Carlson. I was just asking. Well, what are you waiting for? Shut up. Stop it. Do you hear me? The concert's over. I hope I didn't startle you. The elevator boy let me in. What's on your mind? I just wanted to go over a few points with you. Do you know anything about a resort called Orchard Beach? It's not far from here. Yes, I stayed there for a couple of weeks last summer. Why? It's strange. You never ran into Mrs. Pondekker. She played in the summer theater there. I told you I never saw her before I came here. If you're trying to pin this on me, you're wasting your time. Now look, how could I have planned this thing? I never even knew I was coming here till Morley wrote and asked me. He'll tell you that. Unfortunately, we can't seem to contact Mr. Morley. You don't have his present address, do you? Well, all he said was something about a camping trip, but he's bound to turn up in a couple of days and he'll set you straight on all this. That is, if he turns up alive. What do you mean by that? I was just considering a possibility. After all, if anything happened to Mr. Morley, he couldn't back up your story and he couldn't deny it either. Could he? Well, I'll be getting along. Good night, Mr. Carl. That night the Scales were louder than ever. They went on. Over and over, echoing in the room, the shrill and urgent. And I couldn't shut them up. Shut up! Do you hear me? Shut up! What the devil's going on in here? Well, Morley. Morley, good Lord, I thought you'd never turn up. Well, I always say it's nice to be wanted, but if I'm not too inquisitive, may I ask what you're doing in my place? I'm waiting for you to... so you can tell them about the letter. Letter? The one you wrote when you asked me to come here. Look, I don't care if you stayed here, but I didn't write you. But you must have, Morley. I read the letter. I'll tell you I saw it. I held it in my hands. It was real. All right, Carlson. Don't be so tragic about it. After all, it's not a matter of life and death. It most certainly is. Look, Morley. You don't know what's been going on around here. Ever since I first came to New York, I've been nearly crazy. That doesn't seem to be any way out. Hmm. Well, Carlson, there's, uh, no point in sitting out here on the balcony all night. No. I'll admit you're in a bad jam, but it's not hopeless. They haven't arrested you. That's only a matter of time. They haven't any proof. And I can tell the police I wrote that letter. Oh, well, I suppose I can. Well, you'll have to be more convincing than that. No thanks. Right next in the news, and I might as well face it. Now, let's not be noble, Carlson. It's only a technicality. I think I can make them believe me. It's too late now. They're here. Who's here? The police. The car just pulled up. You sure? Soft boys yell. And I don't like the way he's bouncing with so much energy. Why should he come now? Someone must have tipped him off at your back. He was as anxious to see you as I was. Morley, is there a backstayers here? Well, yes, why? Well, I'm going to try to get out. It's my only chance. Will you help me? Certainly, Carlson. I'll show you where to go. I can at least do that. I had to try. I couldn't just lie down and take that rap, and there was no way under heaven I could escape it legally. I followed Morley off the balcony and we got to his living room. It was almost more than I could stand because her singing started again. Not the scales this time. Roses of Piketty. Roses of Piketty. She was going to follow me all my life. I almost dropped in my tracks. Something I guess you'd call it a hunch. Something about the stiffness of Morley's back made me hang on. Then Morley swung around. Who is it? It was more than a hunch. Morley was sweating. I decided to play it for all it was worth. Who's that? Who's what? Don't you hear something? What are you talking about? Nothing. Well, come on. You better hurry. Well, I don't know. Hurry up, Carlson. I don't know. Now that I think of it, I don't know. But you said yourself... But all my life, I'd be ducking the law for something I didn't do. You said yourself it's your only chance. Yes, but that would be worse than being convicted. Anyway, how could they convict me? The evidence is all circumstantial. There's an awful lot of evidence, Carlson. The dog being killed by your car. That you made against her and you're being at Orchard Beach at the same time she was there. Yeah, that's a clincher, all right. But how did you know? Are you? How did you know I was at Orchard Beach? I never told you. You haven't talked to soft voice yet. Come on, Morley. Tell me how you did it. Tell me how you killed Mrs. Pondekker. You're out of your mind. How did you pull the car business? Did you disguise your voice and take the keys while I was out of the apartment? That would be simple enough to do. Crazy. And that sheet music on the balcony, did you plan it? Well, you had me right where you wanted me. A beautiful frame up. It's a shame to ruin it. I don't have to ruin it. Oh, no. You can't kill me, Morley. I'm your fall guy. Remember? I can kill you in self-defense. I can kill a murderer who's living in my apartment who's threatened me. Unfortunately, the police didn't get here in time. And in simple self-defense, I had to... But they did get here in time, Morley. You're very lucky. How much did you hear? Enough. Enough. He was a slick boy. He had you measured for the noose all right. How'd you get him to open up? Well, in a way I didn't. It was the roses of Piccadilly. Roses of... Well, I thought it was Mrs. Pondekker. And when she started roses of Piccadilly, Morley thought so too. Scared him green. Scared him more than me. You know, I thought everyone felt the same way about Violet singing, but not the little girl next door. The only thing she had against Violet's voice was professional jealousy. She thought her voice was better, but Violet could drown her out. Listen. Well, somebody else will have to strangle her. Roma Wines have brought you Zachary Scott as star of Murder of Key. Tonight's study in... Suspense. This is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines, the sponsor of suspense. Are you planning now for that Thanksgiving dinner next week? Well, here's a timely suggestion from famed hostess Elsa Maxwell. This Thanksgiving, many families will be together for the first time in years, enjoying the traditional turkey and trimmings and pumpkin pie. At dessert time, I suggest serving Roma California muscatel. Roma muscatel is a glorious ending to a festive meal. Yes, at dessert time or later in the evening, golden Roma muscatel is the choice refreshment wine. Served cool, Roma muscatel is delicious with dessert or later with nuts or cake. A wine mellow indeed, bursting with gold and sweetness. Roma muscatel brings you the distinctive fragrance and the warming taste richness of the famous muscat grape. Like all Roma Wines, Roma muscatel is a true wine, unvaryingly good always. Made in California, enjoyed throughout the world. Remember, because of uniformly fine quality at low cost, more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wine. Insist on Roma. R-O-M-A. Fine Roma Wines. Zachary Scott appeared through the courtesy of Warner Brothers Studios and is currently appearing in Mildred Pierce. Next Thursday, Roma Wines bring you Lloyd Nolan in Suspense. Radio's outstanding theatre of thrills. Presented by Roma Wines. R-O-M-A. Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.