 Yes, Roma wines taste better because only Roma selects from the world's greatest wine reserves for your pleasure. That's R-O-M-A, Roma wines, those better tasting California wines enjoyed by more Americans than any other one, for friendly entertaining, for delightful dining. Yes, right now a glass full would be very pleasant as Roma wines bring you Agnes Moorhead in a remarkable tale of suspense. We were driving too fast, but I knew that if I slowed down at all I would begin to tremble. And so although the road was torturous, climbing steeply up the mountain I kept my foot pressed hard on the gas pedal. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that my husband was looking quietly into the green valley far below. He looked peaceful now. He had made his speech about driving too fast. I'd asked him to be quiet, and now he was quiet. I wondered what he would do if I stopped the car and told him right then that we were driving up to the Johnson House so that I might kill him. I parked the car on the highway at the foot of the dirt road leading up to the house. We walked quickly behind the heavy trees. My husband stopped once to wipe the dust off his shoes. I hurried him on and we soon arrived at the front door. As planned I'd forgotten the key. I did open my purse and look however, and that gave me the opportunity to release the safety catch on the gun I had borrowed from my husband's belongings. I suggested that we try one of the windows. He agreed, and we slowly made our way through the underbrush that was growing wild at the side of the stucco building until we reached the first floor window. The window was set high above the ground and my husband had to stretch his body to reach it. I waited until he had his back to me. His hands raised high in the air, reaching for the window frame. Then I opened my purse, took out the gun, aimed very carefully at a spot just in the center of his left shoulder blade, and pulled the trigger four times. We didn't fall right away. He had had his fingers over the window ledge ready to unfasten the catch when the bullets hit him. There was some terrible effort to dug his nails into the stucco and tried to keep him dying. I couldn't move. I wanted to scream but my throat felt paralyzed. He tried to turn his face and look at me. But he hadn't that much life left. At last. I wiped off the gun, his gun, and threw it behind an acacia bush. Then I walked back to the car, slowly and carefully removing any of my footprints which showed in the loose dirt of the road. At the car I emptied some cigarette butts from the dashboard ashtray onto the road, dusted my shoes, then turned around and drove home. Put the car in the garage, went in and had my shower, and laid down in the library to wait. A few minutes after the grandfather clock struck 11, the telephone rang. Hello? Miss Skinner? This is she. This is Jonathan Brown, Sheriff's office. I have some... My husband? Yes, ma'am. I waited quietly for a moment, then I let the phone fall to the floor. I listened until I heard Jonathan Brown hang up. Then I replaced my telephone on its stand, went into the kitchen for some ice which I put in a large Turkish towel. I then arranged myself carefully and attractively on the living room to then, and waited again. Come here, please. Miss Skinner, that was a stupid thing for me to do, breaking the news that way, you know. I'm all right. Well, I came over as soon as you, you know, I dropped the phone. Well, I felt faint suddenly. Well, ain't no wonder. Tell me what happened, Mr. Uh, Brown, Jonathan Brown, Sheriff's office. Mr. Brown, please sit down. Thank you. Well, your husband was up at the Johnson House this afternoon, as well as we can figure. Up there on the side of the mountain, you know, and he must have been trying to get into the window, and somehow, somebody, well, shot him. Are you sure you want me to tell you? I'm sorry. Go on, please. Well, we, uh, looked around the place, couldn't see anything. Though we found the, uh, you know, a weapon, it was a gun, found in the brush near where he was, and, uh, no footprints or anything, except tire marks. Down the main highway, and a bunch of cigarette butts where someone must have been sitting in the car, uh, waiting, you know. Those were my tire marks. You, you was up there? Well, I had an appointment to meet my husband this afternoon at the foot of the road leading up to the Johnson House. He had said that he'd had some business to attend to and would get a ride with this other person. He was very mysterious about it. And I waited for an hour or more at the foot of the road. You were so clever to recognize the meaning of those cigarette stuff. Well, he is. And when he didn't come, I thought perhaps I was mistaken about the appointment, and so I drove home. I would think about perhaps I'd gone up to the house I might have saved my poor dear husband's life. Hey then, I know. I'm all right. I'm all right. I'll be all right. Now don't you worry about a thing, Mrs. Skinner. The Sheriff's Office will round up the guilty party or parties and have them brought to trial, you know. Yes, I'm sure. I slept well that night for the first time in ten years. My husband during his lifetime had snored loudly and steadily, and during his later years, he had acquired the nervous and distressing habit of grinding his teeth in his sleep. This night all was quiet and peaceful in the house. In my house. And as I say, I stepped beautifully. The next few days were also beautifully quiet. A few photographers and newspaper men, but they were kind and gentle and didn't make too much bother. Finally, Mr. Jonathan Brown called to say that he would send a car for me on Friday morning. The next day, as it turned out, to take me to the car and his inquest. Small courtroom was crowded, and almost everyone there eyed me with great sympathy. The inquest proceeded evenly. There was as yet no evidence as to the identity of my husband's murder. I again stated that I had left the tire marks and cigarette stubs at the foot of the road that led to the Johnson House. No, I hadn't heard a shot. No, my dear husband had no enemies. Then... I've had this blackboard brought to court so that I might show the position of the body when found. I think it might be of interest. Very well, proceed. The body was found just below the first-story window on the left side of the house. The dead man was obviously trying to gain admittance, you know. He didn't die immediately, as I will show you, but stayed alive long enough to try to keep himself from falling. Since marks from each of his fingernails were found running down the side of the building. Here, then, is the window sill. And here are the marks of his fingernails. And here is the spot where the body lay when it was discovered. And here is the house. As he talked, he watched. I didn't know why until I heard the first scrape of the chalk against the blackboard. For one awful moment it was the sound that had been made by my husband as he tried so desperately to hold himself alive. I found myself tightly holding the wooden table in front of me. My arms and body tears. Trying not to faint. Since the large deposit of the dried stucco from the building was found under each of the victim's fingernails, I believe I can best illustrate the manner of the victim's last moments with a physical illustration. Suppose I am the victim, you know, and this blackboard is the side of the building. We hear the gunshots, and then the victim slowly sinks to the ground. Oh, please. Please, I can't, sir. Please, don't make that. For suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you Agnes Moorhead in the 13th sound. Roma Wines' presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theatre of thrills, Suspense. Between the acts of suspense, this is Ken Niles for Roma Wines. 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And now Roma wines bring back to our Hollywood Sound stage, Agnes Moorhead as Mrs. Sally Skinner, and William Johnstone as Jonathan Brown in the 13th Sound. A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. I must have been taken home from the inquest. For the next consciousness I had, I was lying on the guest bed. In the corner set, Mr. Jonathan Brown, he must have seen my eyes open. Feeling better? Yes, thank you. I'm terribly sorry. Oh, yes, all right. Quite a strain, you know. Yes, it was quite a strain. I'm going to ask whether it'd be all right to go on without you. Everybody seemed grieved, you know, so we finished up while the doc looked over. What happened? Oh, he said you'd be all right. Shock. I meant about my husband. And his death, the hand of persons unknown, you know. Is there anything further I must do? Not a thing, Miss Skinner. He's been very kind. Well, it's a terrible thing happened to you. Well, I don't know if there's nothing more you need from me. No, no, nothing. Thank you. Well, goodbye then, and don't you worry. We'll find who did it, you know. After it left, I had the time to be angry at myself for my behavior at the inquest. What was the people of thought? To say it only from the noise of a piece of chalk on a blackboard? I wondered if Mr. Brown had suspected anything, because as I remembered back to earlier afternoon, he had been watching me as he drew those silly little diagrams on the board. He hadn't been looking anywhere else, not at the coroner or at any other reporters, not even at what he was doing. He'd been looking at me. Well, of course he was looking at me. He was showing a civic. I slowly allowed myself to return to my former position in the community. I was able now to do the things I'd always wanted to do, but had been restrained from doing by a certain attitude of my husband. He had never liked entertaining. He didn't believe that we should belong to the country club and take a civic pride in the fact that our home was the largest and most beautiful in the community. In fact, it was his desire to sell our lovely home that caused me to finally take that complete and drastic step. The first evening that I accepted an outside invitation was for one of the Wednesday night evenings of bridge at our club. At my table with a present with a bank and his wife. As I sat down, I noticed that a windowpane on my left was shattered. Good evening, Miss Gray, Miss Gray. Good evening, Miss Gray. Well, I'm afraid I'm the culprit here. I'm playing ball with the kids this afternoon, and I threw one right through your lovely window. Oh, really? All right, but I got old Sam here. I brought him along with no painted glass and he'll fix his up ship shape no time at all. Go ahead, Sam, right over there. Yes, Mr. Brownshaw, don't mind me, folks. I'll be through here in just a minute. Oh, incidentally, Miss Skinner, I always meant to ask you whether or not you minded noises, especially. Sharp noises like you see chalk on a blackboard? I don't understand. Chalk on a blackboard? At the end, yes, Sam. I always wondered about it that you faded just when the chalk was scratching across the blackboard. Oh, remember hearing? I'm afraid I faded before you drew any diagrams. I think that's what you were planning to do, draw a diagram. That's what I was planning to do, yes, ma'am. Yes. Does he have to do that? Is something wrong, Mr. Skinner? Does he? Mr. Skinner? I can't. I'll be at home in the next few days. I canceled all appointments. He really was unbearable. In October, I resumed my activities. I began to see people again. I grew especially interested in chamber music. Through my activity, I arranged a musical evening to be given by a group of which I was the second vice president. They planned the formation of the Philharmonic Society eventually. I went to the musical alone, and I was studying my program when... Is this seat taken? Good evening, Mr. Brown. Well, Mr. Skinner, good evening. Getting recognized, ma'am. Well, I was to be joined later. Well, I'll just sit here a moment then. You know, I'm terribly sorry about the other night. It's really nothing at all for you to be sorry about. Very kindly to say that, you know, but I do feel guilty as all sin being the cause of you getting sick like that. Oh, really, Mr. Brown, I wasn't sick at all. Mr. Gregg told me I'd probably been affected by the heat. Did what? Very close to the club that night, if you'll remember. Yes, yes, well, it was. Well, just so I don't feel it was my fault, you know. No, I don't want you to feel that it was your fault. That's very kind of you, you know. If you don't mind, I'll stay here until wherever it holds as he gets you, all right? We crave your indulgence and a certain open-mindedness for giving a fair chance to the first piece with which we're going to open our program this evening. The title of this piece is The Thirteen Sound, and the composer is Julian Carillo. This piece, because of the unorthodox nature of it, created a veritable furor in New York City, some weeks ago on the occasion of its premiere. It's what you'd call, I guess, modern music. And the really unusual thing about it is that the instruments, instead of playing as they usually do in Mozart, Haydn and such classical veins, play in quarter tones. Now, a quarter tone is somewhere in between the other tones, such as the, we are accustomed to hearing. So on this following piece, the instruments are not playing as you would think, out of tune. This is the way it is supposed to sound. Thank you. So now, the various members of the quartet will tune their various instruments into these quarter tones. And this is quite a short piece, but I know you're going to like it. Tune up, gentlemen. This should be very interesting. Thanks so much, Skinner. Thirteen sound. Have you heard it? No, no, I haven't. Too hard again, Miss Skinner. It does get stuck in here. Oh, I'm not, um, it's hot in here. You're terribly piqued. Show me your arm. I'm cold. Excuse me. Will you let me out? Will you please excuse me? I left Mr. Brown sitting there. My man drove me home. I never liked modern music. I locked all the doors and I turned on all the lights. And then I did a foolish thing. I found a hammer and a piece of board. And I beat and beat and beat and beat on the board with a hammer as hard as I could. And finally the heavy, steady, safe pounding that I made drove the other sharp, shrill, awful noise from my mind. Then I turned out all the lights and opened the windows and went to sleep. I didn't sleep well, but I didn't stay awake either. I hadn't set the alarm next to my bed and when I first awoke the next morning, for a minute I couldn't remember what had happened. I fell drunk. I got out of bed and put on a lovely shot to his brocade house coat and started downstairs. The sun was shining outside. It was a beautiful day. Not the sort of day when you could be disturbed by unrelated noises. I felt grand when I got downstairs. Then I heard, I didn't care. I knew only that I had to stop it before it happened to me again. I stood shivering there in a beam of sunlight. I waited for him to come bursting into the room after me. I waited. What, did I disturb you? Oh, no, no. Then I will come in, but I can only say a minute. Would you like some coffee? Oh, no, thank you. When I was so sick, you remember, the doctor absolutely forbid me having any more coffee. Oh, I, I didn't know that. Oh, sit down, please. Do you drink much coffee? No, why do you ask? Well, I thought perhaps your recent attacks might have been caused by that. Mr. Gregg is a great one for aspirin and salt tablets. I think it's much simpler than that. Cut out coffee. Well, I, I, I think my attacks were just caused by this heat. I, I plan to see voyage. Oh, house splendor. That will certainly fix you. You know, I don't need to be disrespectful, heaven knows. But perhaps on the boat, you might meet a fine young man who will. Perhaps. Oh, when do you plan to leave? This afternoon. I'm leaving from New York. Oh, well, you can't. Pardon? For the clubhouse, the unveiling ceremonies of this afternoon. Oh, I forgot. Well, you simply can't leave. Well, no one who can replace you on the speaker's platform. Oh, well, I, well. Well, I'll right then, Mrs. Gregg. I'll say for the ceremony. I drove to the new clubhouse of Mr. and Mrs. Gregg. The building was really very lovely. It was almost ready for occupancy. We were unveiling a heroic figure which graced the entranceway. Our speaker's platform was built alongside the figure. And quite a few of the members and their families were sitting on the wooden benches in the front patio waiting for the ceremonies to begin. Oh, hello. Isn't this exciting? Oh, yes, yes, very. The ladies have done a marvelous job. Oh, thank you. Thank you. What's that fellow going up there? Where? See up on the roof there. Oh, yes. Makes me nervous to see people at such heights. Off a toast to Ed. I guess he knows his business, I imagine. Yes, I suppose he... Yeah, I'm very anxious to hear your little talk, Mrs. Gennett. Thank you. I think you've managed admirably since you're an unfortunate... Well, you understand. Yes, yes, thank you. Well, I think we should get on with it, eh? Well, I believe it'll be only a few more minutes. Ah! What? What is it? Look, that's Workman. He's going to fall. Can't someone catch him? They'll catch him. Oh, they will, they will do. Take out a catch him. Very clever. Sure is. I really thought he was falling off of that building. It used to be an acrobat. Oh. So how did he make that noise? Holding tenpony nails in his hands. Scraped them along the face of the building as he slid down. Did you think of that, too? Mm-hmm. Made an awful racket. Mm-hmm. Pretty. Nice lady, you know. Yeah. What's that devil are you doing? Hmm? Oh, fixing my nails, I guess. Well, cut it out, will you? Sure. What's the matter with you? All right. That noise makes me nervous, I guess. You know? America's favorite wine. This is Ken Niles returning for a curtain call with a brilliant star of tonight's suspense play, Agnes Moorhead. Apparently, Agnes, you're not superstitious, accepting the lead in a play called the Thirteenth Sound on February 13th. Ha-ha. Superstitions are no phobia with me, Ken, but I do have one. What is it? I refuse to give a party for 13 people. Yes, but even a thirteenth guest is in luck, Agnes, when you serve Roma Port. Realty-red, fragrant, nectar-sweet Roma California Port adds warmth to the welcome for everyone. And Roma Port is so easy to serve. You simply pour and hospitality rain. Yes, Ken, Roma Port does make entertaining a pleasure. Not only that, Agnes, there's a difference you can taste in all Roma wines. And this better taste begins with the choicest grapes in all California. Then Roma's unmatched skill and winemaking resources guide these luscious grapes unhurriedly to tempting taste perfection. Later, Roma places this rich taste treasure with Roma wines of years before. And finally, Roma selects from the world's greatest wine reserves for your pleasure. Well, it's easy to see why Roma wines taste better, Ken. Yes, Agnes, and here's the most conclusive proof of all, a gift basket of Roma wines for you and your guests to enjoy with a compliment of Roma, the greatest name in wine. I'm delighted, Ken. Thank you very much. And good night. Tonight's Suspense Play was written by Kathy and Elliot Neuiss. Next Thursday, same time, you will hear Anne Baxter as star of Suspense. Produced and directed by William Spear for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California. Tune for the thrilling adventures of the FBI in peace and war following immediately over most of these stations. In the coming weeks, Suspense will present such stars as James Stewart, William Bendix, Eddie Bracken, and others. Make it a point to listen each Thursday to Suspense Radio's Outstanding Theater of Frills. This is DBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.