 Suspense. This is the man in black. Here again to introduce Columbia's program. Suspense. Our star this evening is Miss Maureen O'Hara, whom you've seen rise to stardom in Hollywood within the short space of a year. Her performances in the 20th Century Fox production How Green Was My Valley, then more recently in The Immortal Sergeant, and now currently in the RKO production This Land Is Mine, have given her an enviable place in the ranks of America's new film favorites. Miss O'Hara makes her first appearance on our suspense stage tonight as the heroine of a study in homicidal mania. The White Rose Murders by Cornel Woolrich, which is tonight's tale of suspense. If you have been with us before, you will know that suspense is compounded of mystery and suspicion and dangerous adventure. In this series are tales calculated to entreat you, to stir your nerves, to offer you a precarious situation, and then withhold the solution until the last possible moment. And so it is with the White Rose Murders and the performance of Maureen O'Hara. We again hope to keep you in. Suspense. He stood there waiting. He knew that presently they would come out of the second-rate dance hall, out into the dimly lit street. He listened a while, and smiled as the orchestra played that tune inside. And then they came out the two girls, and still he waited close enough to hear what they were saying. Well, I'll see you at the office tomorrow, Sally. Oh, I don't know how I'll get up after one o'clock. Six hours sleep. Oh, I'll be dead tomorrow. Me too. Oh, gosh, I gotta have at least eight hours or I'm no good at all. I wish I had someone to walk me to the bus. It's four long blocks. I'll walk you down, Sally. Oh, don't bother. We go in different directions. What's no trouble? Really, I don't mind. In the narrow alley that divides at the dance hall from an ugly office building, he stood smiling. Just a little inside the alley, he stood stiffly against the wall. His head back, eyes closed, arms straight down, and in his left hand, a white rose. Well, all right then, Sally. Good night. Good night, Joan. See you in the morning. I hope I don't have to wait long for the bus. Keep away. Keep away from me. Let me go. Let me go. The girl is dead. Tenderly, the figure straightens her hair and gently places the limp body on the ground. Then he opens her clenched fist and carefully so that the thorns will not bruise her flesh. He places in her hand the white rose bud. Pardon me, my good man. Is it true that you are the famous detective Terence Riley? Huh? Oh, Ginny. I didn't see you come in. Well, now that I'm here, how about offering to buy a cup of coffee for the girl you're going to marry? You can ever get up enough with nerve to ask her. It's no use, Ginny. I guess we better call it quits. I'm just a dick on the homicide squad, and that's all I'll ever be. And I'm a rich debutante. We don't belong together. Oh, you've been reading too many of those romantic stories, Terry. What is it this time? What's wrong? They call him the white rose killer. He's got to be caught. It's a general demotion coming on if he isn't, and that's all I need to get back into uniform. Oh, don't worry, darling. You always look good in blue. Yeah. Just a match the way I feel. Tell me more about the white rose killer. What's he like? That's the stumble. He could be anybody. No one's ever seen him except the dead, and they don't talk about it afterwards. He just slips out of the shadows and kills and then slips back again. How many has he murdered? Four. He's not through yet. It's going to be one of those chain things if he's allowed to keep on. Are you sure it's always the same one? Yeah. That part of it we're sure of. It's the same touch. The same way of operating every time. How do you know that? Well, it's a rose. A white rosebud. Death rose. Puts it into each victim's hand after he kills it. Yeah. It's always a woman. A young woman between 19 and 23. What's behind it? Do you have any idea? Well, I'm not sure. But here's what I figured out. You know what a rose stands for. Symbolically, I mean. Why, yes, it's the flower of love. The white rose, the bud has another meaning. Purity, loyalty, devotion, and especially it stands for a young girl. That's right. And that's about the way I see it. So maybe it's a double cross committed against our murderer by some young girl whom he worshipped and who betrayed his faith in her. You ought to be a detective, not me. Thanks, darling. I've got a very fine teacher. Sweet. There's another thing. The murders were all committed near places where there was music, dance halls, cabarets and the like. There's a song that brings back the original shock that, you know, gives him the final push over into the darkness. As far as we can figure out, it's the beer barrel poker. Well, how does he commit the murder? Is it always the same way? Always. Strangulation between the hands, with the thumb into the windpipe to keep his victims from crying out. But isn't there anything else you know about him? No, that's why it's so hopeless. He's insane, of course. There's only this one phase to his insanity, probably perfectly normal in appearance and behavior. You can pass him on the street and even know it. Well, it's only when he sees someone vaguely like the girl he loved, and here's that song. The one defective wire in him is jangled and short-circuit. But Terry, the flowers, don't the flowers tell you? He must get them somewhere you could trace. We don't know where he gets them. Maybe he steals them or... Terry, what if you were the one to get him? Well, it would mean a citation and a promotion. And then all the things that stand between us would disappear? We could get married. Well, the chances would be a lot better, anyway. But what chance have I? Everyone in the department has been working their heads off for weeks and they've all failed. Uh-huh. Terry, what were the girls like? The ones he killed? Well, as I told you, they were all between 19 and 23. Their heights were pretty much the same, too. They're all tall girls, around five feet six or seven, little taller than you, and all dark-haired. How did they wear their hair? Why they? Say, what is this? Oh, nothing, darling. Just just interested. How did they wear their hair? Well, from what I remember, they were sort of loose and curly down the back. I suppose each one had a resemblance to that long dead love of his. That's probably it. Well, anyway, that's how the record stands, and we're all waiting for it to happen again. I see. Uh, Terry, um, I'd like to go home now. I shouldn't have told you all that stuff. I've given you the creeps. Oh, come on, Terry. Take me home. Later, Sieny stands by the window in her room, looking out, thinking she doesn't move for a long time. Then suddenly, quickly, she goes to her closet and begins to rummage through her many pairs of shoes. Carefully, she picks one pair with three inch heels. Five foot six or seven. Then she walks quickly to the dresser, opens a drawer, takes out a comb, and starts redoing her hair. One loose and curly down the back. Well, here we go. Edwin. Yes, Miss? Is the car ready? Yes, Miss Virginia. I've been waiting for you. Let's go before Mother sees me. Your mother's been looking for you, Miss. I hope you didn't tell her. No, Miss Virginia. I didn't. Good. Come on, Edward. Where do you wish to go, Miss Virginia? The Starlight Dance Hall on Grove and Second Street. The Starlight, Miss? Yes, Edward. That's the place. I wouldn't go there and escort it if I were you, Miss. It's one of the worst places in the city. It has a very bad reputation. The Starlight Dance Hall, Edwards. Very good, Miss. Very good. Ginny walks slowly around the low-lighted dance hall, trying to make herself conspicuous. The tall figure leaning against a pillar watches her intently as he idly smokes a cigarette. He doesn't seem to belong there. His clothes don't have the nativeness of a dance lover. Ginny pauses not far from him. Deliberately, he throws his cigarette on the floor, steps on it, and slowly walks over to her. Hello. Oh, hello. You're not with anyone, are you? Oh, no. I'm alone. I thought so. I've been watching you all the time. Have you? I haven't seen you dance yet. I don't know anyone here. How about dancing with me then? All right. Come on. Let's go out on the floor. Do you come here often? No. I never go to the same place twice. You don't? Why? I'm always looking for new faces. I'm restless. Do you find the faces you're looking for? Listen. Listen to that song. I like that. I like it very much. Yes, it is a nice song. You know, you remind me of someone I used to know. I'm trying to think who. I do? Yeah. Do you mind if we stop dancing and go and get a drink? No. Let's go. Oh, look. They sell flowers here. Yes, I see. I'll get you some. What kind would you like? Oh, any kind. You pick it out. All right. Let's see. There's something kind of innocent and young about you. Different from most of the girls that come here. Can't we stay here a little longer? It's intermission now. They won't play again for 10 minutes. Come on. But I like it here. Let's stay a little while longer. Well, then let's get down for some air. We can come back in a few minutes. Come on. But we'll be back before the music starts. Oh, you're hurting my arm. Am I? I'm sorry. Fresh air smells good, doesn't it? It's so dark here. Let's go back. You're not scared, are you? Oh, no, it's just that. Let's walk down this alley and back. Please. Please. No, you tell us. Let me go. Thanks. That's a lovely necklace, beautiful. Why, you're just a cheap thing. Shut up. All you wanted was my neck. So long, beautiful. Look out. What's the matter? Behind you. Look. Holy. She's dead. A girl. Murdered. With a white rosebud in her hand. Well, Ginny, happened again last night, as like the other times. The girl strangled in an alley with a white rose in her hand. Any news of the killer? No. He might just as well float through the air for all the trace he leaves. He must have bought the flower upstairs in the dance hall. He must have been there earlier, bought it, and saved it under... No, it was only one rose sold up there all night. And to a man who had a different girl with him. We had the flower girl. How did you know that they sold flowers there? I didn't tell you. Well, I... I must have read it somewhere. You couldn't have. Wasn't in any of the papers. No details were given, just the statement that an unidentified body was found. Well, I... Well, I just imagined that they'd sell flowers in a place like that. Well, I'm glad you don't go near those dance halls. Why were there's nut running around, moves? Oh, don't bother about that. We'd better catch this killer. And fast. How did you get this wee stuff? To hear you talk, you'd think that you were on the case too. Wouldn't you think so? To hear me talk? Again, Ginny tours the low dives, hunting for the white rose killer. Her search carries her to the waterfront. And as she walks past each dingy bar, she listens to the jukebox music. A little after midnight, she passes a dirty windowed saloon. The thin music catches her ear. She pauses and listens. Her eyes are live for some sign. Some indication of the person she's looking for. Then suddenly her body becomes rigid, as her eyes fall upon a figure, huddled in the shadows. Someone's watching me. Slowly, she starts to walk up the street. Behind her, the heavy tread of a man's footsteps keep pace with hers. It's a quiet tread, unhurried but deliberate. For several blocks, it keeps the exact distance. Ginny starts to walk faster. I've got to know if he's really following me. The man quickens his pace. Ginny starts across the street. The man follows. She's sure now, sure that the man is following her. She fumbles for something in her purse. Her hand closes around a gun. If he tried anything, I'll shoot. Get any trouble, lady? Oh, no, officer. It's all right. You scared him away. Scared who away? Hold just a man who wanted to bring me flowers. That's all. Well, he brought you one anyhow, lady. What do you mean? Right there on the ground, right where your feet. A white rose. Coffee, Mabel. Sure. Here you are. Terry. Terry. Hello, Ginny. Sit down. Thank you. Say, what's the matter with you? Look, darling, read the gossip column in this paper. What daughter of a socially prominent family, step away about a detective and waits for him outside the station house in her limousine every night. Private chauffeur and all, but mama says no. That's not so funny. Oh, they held a big family war council over me just now. Indian powwow, feathered headdress and everything. They did, huh? Well, what do they decide? Oh, I was asked to give my word that I wouldn't see you anymore. I refused, of course, so I had to be exiled. Where to? Our summer home. It's just a few hours out of town, but I'll be there all by myself, just with Mrs. Crosby, the housekeeper. Oh, maybe they're right. Why don't you listen to them? Are you on their side too? No. When you're leaving? Right away. Edward is driving me out. I just slipped out to let you know. Here's the address and phone number of the place in case you want to reach me. Don't lose it. I won't. Well, what's new and exciting about the white rose killer? Our famous lover of flowers? We're still trying to track them down. I suppose I'll go looking for them at the flower show that's just opened. Oh, a flower show just opened? Yeah. Well, goodbye now. I'll be seeing you. What floor is the flower show, please? Third floor, miss. Free, please. Third floor. Where's the rose display, please? To your left over there. See where the man in the gray coat is? In the gray coat? Oh, yes, thank you. They are lovely, aren't they? Oh, you startled me. I'm sorry. I was just admiring the roses. Oh, yes, the nicest flowers here. I just can't keep my eyes off them. Yes, you can feel that way about some flowers. And that's the way I feel about white roses. Have you been here long? I really don't know. I suppose so. You see, I've come here every day since the show opened. I like to be near the roses, the white roses. Those big ones are nice. No, I like the little ones best. The little tightly-cold rosebud there. So little and innocent. Oh, well, I really better be going. Are you going down? Yes. Down, please. Here, Miss, I took a rose for you. Thank you. It's lovely. And would you... Would you care to have a drink with me? Why, yes, thank you. I know of a little place a block or two down there. They have nice music. We'll go there. All right, whatever you say. This is it. Where's the music? A nickel in the jukebox, does it? Any special song you'd like? No. Go ahead and pick one. Okay. That's my favorite song. Reminds me of a girl I used to know. Excuse me, I want to part of my nose. I'll be right back. Do you mind? No, of course not. Thomas speaking. Hello, is Terry Riley there? Just a moment, I'll see. Please, hurry. It's important. Sorry, Miss. Terry Riley's not here just now. Will you tell him that I can't keep that date with him? Goodbye. Do you always get to the phone booth when you want a part of your nose? I had to make a call. I'm afraid I'll have to leave you. Oh, wait. Let me come with you. Sorry, Miss, but I've got other things to do. Oh. What's the matter? That car, someone that knows me. Let's get away from here. That's just what I'm going to do. So long, lady. Wait, wait. Please don't go. Miss Virginia. Miss Virginia. I'm sorry, Miss Virginia, that I must speak to you for a minute. Oh, Edwards, what do you want? I'm sorry, Miss. You'd better come with me at once. I've been looking for you everywhere. Your mother's been taken seriously ill. Mother? Where is she? She's out at the country, please, Miss. I drove her there shortly before dinner. She wanted to pay you a surprise visit. Oh. I believe the shock of not finding you there upset her, Miss. Is she very bad? She had the doctor with her, and they left. Mrs. Cosby has gone away for the day. Your mother needs you, Miss. Well, let's go. Hurry, Edwards, please. Right, Miss. Where is Mother Edwards? In her room, Miss. You'd better hurry. Mother? Mother? It's Ginny. Is the doctor in there with you? Mother? Why, there's no one here. The room's empty. The bed hasn't been touched. Edwards, what are you doing? Barely playing a song, Miss. A favorite of mine. A favorite? Yes, Miss Virginia. Where's Mother? She's in the city, Miss. You lied to me. I'm afraid I did, Miss Virginia. Why are you locking the door? You know why, Miss Virginia. It... it can't be. You are not the... The White Rose Killer. But you see, I am, Miss Virginia. Driving you and your family around day after day. Sitting there right in front of you all the time. It was amusing to watch you hunting for me. Hunting for someone you saw several times a day. It can't be. You're not insane. Of course not. Who said I was? Edwards, you know I'm not the girl who betrayed you? Yes, I know that. Well, lock the door and let me out. Please, Edwards. I've killed five times. I've never regretted it. I'm going to kill you, Miss Virginia. Why, Edwards? Why? Because you've been so clever. Too clever. You made yourself look like her, the girl who deceived me. I could have killed you the day you first went out looking for me. But I had to be careful. I almost caught you that night at the waterfront. The night I dropped the white rose when that police car came. Edwards, I... I've never done you any harm. Your sweetheart, Terry. He loves you, doesn't he? Yes. That's good. Because now you won't be able to deceive him like my girl deceived me. Keep away, Edwards. Keep away, or I'll... You thought you'd use your gun, eh? Well, don't think I was full enough to overlook that. I took your gun out of your purse. It won't do you any good to kill me, Edwards. I didn't have anything to do with... No. And you're not going to have a chance to break another man's heart, like she broke mine. Jenny, Jenny, where are you going? Terry, Terry! It won't do you any good to call to him. He can't get in here without breaking down the door. Keep away from me. Terry! It'll be too late then, because I'm going to kill you now. Jenny, where are you? Terry! Let me get my hands on that pretty white throat. Oh, keep away! Keep away from me! You're scaring me! Stop! Are you all right? Yes, Terry. I... I'm all right. Take it easy. Here. Sit down. Oh, Terry, I was so scared. There was nobody here but Edwards and I. How... how did you know where I was? For simple. You were supposed to meet me at the coffee shop. You never broke an appointment, and when you didn't show up, I called the number you gave me. You told me the housekeeper was here all the time. And when there was no answer, I got suspicious and came down. Besides, when I got a message down at headquarters that you had to break a date with me, I knew something was wrong. Are you sure you're all right? Yes, I... I'm, uh, Terry. Look. On the floor beside Edwards. A white rose. Must have fallen out of his pocket. That was meant for me. Oh, Terry, it's... it's all crushed. Yeah, crushed and dead. Just like the white rose killer. And so closes the white rose murders, starring Maureen O'Hara. Tonight's tale of... Suspense. This is your narrator, the man in black, who's speaking for Columbia. Hope you have enjoyed Miss O'Hara's performance and our play. Next week, because of a special broadcast of the All Star baseball game, suspense will not be heard. But again, the following week, we will be back with another play on this series. And more of your Hollywood favorites. The producer of these broadcasts is William Spear, who with Ted Bliss, the director. Bernard Herman and Lucy and Marowick, conductor and composer. And Cornel Woolrich, the author, collaborated on tonight's suspense. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.