 Now, the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California presents Roma Wines Bring You Miss Nancy Kelly a star of a week ago Wednesday, a suspense play produced, edited and directed for Roma Wines by William Spear. Suspense, radio's outstanding theatre 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 glassful would be very pleasant as Roma Wines bring you Nancy Kelly in a remarkable tale of suspense. I was married in a blue suit that wrinkled two easelins, shoes that were too tight when I walked, just another girl. I got hungry when I didn't eat and tired when I didn't sleep. When I got pushed around in the 8th Avenue subway and I waited in line at the movies, I was hot in summer and cold in the winter. Other people were killed and robbed and disgraced and in trouble so I could read about it in the morning paper. That sort of thing happened to other people, not to me, not to Maude Haskins, but suddenly I've become other people and a million someone else's read about me. I'd like to tell you how it was. Harry and I had quarrel that Wednesday morning. I've tried to remember why but I can't. I've tried to think but, well, I wasn't in any hurry to get home after work that day, that Wednesday. So I sat for a while on a bench in Central Park. The sky looked moody and had a dirty face. I watched evening happen quickly because it was going to rain. It started to come down during my crying for me and I ran. I knew suddenly that I wanted to go home. I wanted to climb the stairs to the little furnished flat. I wanted Harry to be there so I could put my arms around him and feel him warm against me. I wanted to tell him that I loved him and that I was sick because I hadn't kissed him goodbye that morning. I nearly fell running up those narrow little steps. I stumbled a half a dozen times before I reached the third floor of apartment 3B. I was nervous and I was too eager to get in. My hand was clumsy, all thumbs and the key wouldn't fit. It dropped to the floor. I stooped to pick it up and as I did, the door was unlatched from the inside. Harry! I saw it open and I nearly sobbed with joy and relief. Harry! Yes, what is it, dearie? But it wasn't Harry. Not Harry looking anxious because I was late and worried because I was drenched with the rain. This was a stranger in our apartment. A small, dark woman with eyes like two shiny brown buttons and a pinched little face. Well? She was wearing a flowered apron and in her hand she held a limp dish towel. I blinked at her stupidly. Well, well, what is it? I don't want to buy anything. I'm busy. I'm making supper. Oh, but you don't understand. I'm looking for somebody. What apartment did you want? This is 3B. 3B? Yeah. What apartment are you looking for? But I'm not. I... I won't be much help anyhow. Better ask down the hall. We've only been living here a few days. Living here? Yes. What's the matter with you, dearie? Are you sick? Don't you feel well? I... Oh, no. No, I don't feel very well. And you're closed. Why are you sopping wet? Oh, the rain. I got caught in the rain. What are you talking about, isn't raining? Oh, but you're wrong. It is raining. I just... Listen here, young woman. What kind of a game do you think you're playing? But are you sure? Well, I ran. I ran all the way because there was thunder and lightning. We had a storm a week ago, but it ain't rained like that since Wednesday. Wednesday? A week ago? Oh, no. No. Here. Here. Don't do that. You sit down there, dearie, and I'll get some water. Don't move now. And supper not ready, and come to me. I sat on the sofa. Harry and I had talked just last night about having the spring in the middle cushion fixed. Or had we? I ran my hand over the top cautiously, afraid, and then I stopped as if I'd suddenly taken hold of a live wire for my fingers curved over the lumpy roughness of a pillow with a broken spring. Here. Here. Drink this. Easy. Are you better now? Don't talk. Just drink it easy. That's it, dearie. Thank you. Over the rim of the glass she watched me. I sipped the water slowly while my eyes drank in the room. Well, there was that crack at the base of the lamp from the day Harry got his raise. He'd been swinging me around the room, around and around in circles until we were both dizzy and knocked the lamp over. And there was a little table near the window. And there was the rug with the worn spot in it and the fireplace and the mantle. But our wedding picture on it was missing. And in its place there was a cheap blue vase. There. There. Better? Are you better now? Oh, much. Thank you. I want me to call a cab for you. Where do you live, dearie? Well, I... You were looking for someone when you come. Friends are yours. Huh? Oh, friends. Friends, yes. Yes, friends of mine. Harry and Maude Haskin. Haskin? But don't you read the papers? You mean you don't know? Know what? Why about the murder, of course. We moved in a few days after it happened. My husband didn't like the idea. But an apartment, an apartment these days, foolishness being squeamish about those things. But I said to him, Charlie, it's a big mistake. So what if there was a murder here? You don't mean nothing. Murder? Tell me. Tell me about it. Oh, he looked such a nice young man, too. At least in his picture. Who? Who are you talking about? Harry Haskin, of course. Murder. Harry? Yes, with an ice pick. Horrible. Right in that kitchen. Don't bother me, nun, but my Charlie won't eat there. Ice pick? Murdered. Isn't it awful? And everybody says there seems so much in love. And she was so young, they say. What? Did you know them well? Oh, yes. Yes, very well. Must be a shock to you. Can't understand. Is it in that paper? May I see it? Sure. Been full of nothing else for almost a week. She was right. Ice pick murderer awaits conviction. The headline screamed out at me. I closed my eyes for a minute to blot it out. Perhaps when I opened them again, the words had begun. But they weren't. Vagan bold as life or death, they mocked me. Ice pick murderer awaits conviction. And underneath the little black letters pieced themselves together to form the words killer, bloody, motive. And then they jumped crazily on the page. There was a picture of Harry. Harry, my husband. I tried to read under it, but I couldn't. Oh, maybe I shouldn't have let you see that. Better sit down again, dearie. No. Now let me alone. All right. All right. After all, I didn't ask. I'm sorry. You've been very kind. Please, I'm better go. I don't remember leaving, walking down those stairs out of the door. I just remember finding myself on the street again, half walking and half running, wanting to curl up on the pavement and let my head burst with the ache and the fright that was growing inside. I was back in Central Park again. From out of nowhere, a little boy on a scooter came tearing around the bend. He turned sharply to keep from running into me. I watched him lose his balance and try to regain it dizzily. I fell in a pathetic little heap on the ground. His knee was bleeding. I ran over to pick him up, stretched to lift him to his feet again. And then I remembered. I'd been murdered by my husband almost a week ago. I was dead. I froze. This little boy, if it were true, and it was because I'd read it in the paper myself. If I were really dead, I knew I couldn't touch this child. I was afraid for him. So I ran again. I ran faster and faster until I couldn't hear him anymore. Then it was later somehow and really dark. And I was so tired. I found myself back on that bench again, the same bench I'd been sitting on earlier that evening. No one was around. I stretched out, tried to sleep. I knew I was awake before I opened my eyes. And smelled like morning, fresh and clean. And I thought the sun soak into me. I thought, I thought when I open my eyes, I'll be back in my own bed again. I'll reach out my arm and I'll find Harry there beside me and everything will be all right when I open my eyes. I did. And it was still Central Park. I set up stiffly and I smoothed out the wrinkles in my skirt. I wondered where I was going to go or what I was going to do. I tried not to think of Harry where he was now. More. More, darling. Are you all right? Harry. Harry, you. Oh, golly, baby, I've been worried sick about you all night. Where have you been? Honey, I'm sorry about yesterday. Will you come home with me? Home? Look at your clothes. They're still damp from the rain. Oh, if you get sick, I'll never forgive myself. How do you feel? Are you all right? Rain. Oh, yes. Yes, I'm all right. Oh, good. Come on, then. Let me take your arm. His big hand and long, strong fingers pressed against my arm. My head still ached so I let him leave me. We left the park from the entrance on 72nd Street as a little boy on a scooter came tearing around the bend. I'm a fireman. A joke. I'm a fireman. For Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you a star, Miss Nancy Kelly, in a week ago Wednesday by Winifred Wolfe. Roma Wines' presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense. Between the acts of suspense, this is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines. With the holidays ahead, here's good news to all who enjoy fine Roma Wines, to all who serve Roma Wines for gracious hospitality and for mealtime pleasure, Roma Wines are now featured at new low prices, in plentiful supply, too. Roma California Wines offer you full selections, sherry, port, muscatel, or toque for entertaining, burgundy or sautern for mealtime enjoyment, and champagne to make any happy occasion unforgettable. Each of these fine Roma Wines brings you taste luxury at new low prices. So be sure to have plenty of Roma Wines on hand. Roma Wines are grown from choicest grapes, unhurriedly perfected by age old skill, bottled at Roma wineries in California's choicest vineyards. Remember, because of uniformly fine quality at low cost, more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wine. Roma Wines make perfect gifts, too. So insist on Roma Wines for good living and good giving. Roma Wines offer you so much for so little. That's Roma, R-O-M-A, Roma Wines. And now Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood soundstage Miss Nancy Kelly as Maude Hasken in A Week Ago Wednesday, a play well calculated to keep you in suspense. Place looks awful, doesn't it? I don't know how many cigarettes I smoked. I tried to sleep, but I couldn't, so I tried to couch and no luck there either. That broken spring didn't help much. I was almost out of my mind worrying about you, honey. I got hungry about three o'clock in the morning, but I couldn't eat. Dirty dishes still in the sink. Never mind, I'll wash them. Maude, darling. Yes? Come here, will you? Why are you standing near the mantle? Why don't you come over to me? Huh? Oh, I was looking at the picture on it, our wedding picture. It's there. Of course it's there. Where should it be? Darling, put your arms around me so I'll know you're real, let you've come back. Where did you go? Where were you? I don't know. All right, I won't ask questions now. Just put your arms around me tight and tell me you still love me. He held me close to him and he bend his head so it was buried warm and heavy against my throat. I thought it wouldn't hurt because he's pressing me too tightly if I were dead. I couldn't feel the tiny pulse in my throat beating quick and sharp as I were really dead. The worn spot on the rug was still there and the crack in the base of the lamp. But the wedding picture was back on the mantle and the woman with eyes like two shiny brown buttons was gone. There was just Harry and me. Are you hungry? Let me get you something to eat. I am hungry a little. Well, let me make you something here. Now you sit down here on the couch and I'll bring it to you or you want to change first. Yes, I'd like that. Gee, I'm sorry you got caught in the rain, honey. It was raining, wasn't it, Harry? It was raining hard, wasn't it? Raining? I'll say it was. What a storm. It was raining. It was raining hard. Oh, Harry. Oh, sweet, don't. Please, don't. You're home now. We ate breakfast on the little table near the window. He leaned across the table, his large arms resting on the cloth, his eyes steady and serious, watching me. Why was he being so kind? Why should he be so good to me? What were the thoughts behind those eyes watching me? Watching? I love you. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drop. Why, don't worry about it. I'll get the broom. Sweep it up. Maud. Yes? Don't bother about it now. Come here to me, will you? No. What? I mean, it's glass. I'd better sweep it up. I'll only be a minute. Okay. I went into the kitchen. Glad to be alone for a minute, safe for a minute. I knew with a dull, sick realization that I was afraid of my husband, afraid of Harry. Want me to do it for you? No. No, I can do it. I'll sweep it up. Maud, don't go into work today. Stay home and rest. You don't look well. Oh, but I am. I want to go into work. All right. If you're sure, anything you want. He was being good to me again. Too good to me. Anything I wanted. Anything. Anything. I didn't trust him. He was too kind. His lips moved with honeyed words, but what was on his mind? I love you. Do you? Oh, don't you know I do? Of course. Of course I do. You'll be home right after work? I... Yes. Maybe we'll go to a movie or something. Would you like that? We'll see. All right. We'll see. He walked me to the 8th Avenue subway like he always did. And when he kissed me, goodbye, a slim trimmer of fear went through me. See you tonight, darling. I took three letters that morning. I typed them automatically, but inside my head one thought kept repeating. Repeating. I'm afraid of Harry. I'm afraid. My husband is going to kill me. I know because I dreamed it last night only. I'm not sure it was a dream. Maybe it was a warning. A warning. My husband is going to kill me. Kill me. I told looking at the moon. Weak down. What up there, lady? Ham on rye. Coffee. Coming. Ham on rye. The drugstore was full of hungry, busy people reading the daily paper. The paper that screamed the hurts and the pains and the troubles of other people. But not me. Not Maude Hasken. When there was nothing in it about a nice pick murder in Harry's picture, I began to feel a little foolish. Hey, young lady. Ham on rye. Jav on its way. I'd fallen asleep on a park bench and I'd had a dream that was all just a nightmare. Afraid? Afraid of Harry? Well, I'd let a silly dream play tricks with me. I wanted to push the minutes ahead so I could go home. Go home to Harry. I kept looking at the clock. Four. Four thirty. Four thirty-five. I wanted to get home and tell him I was all right. I was all right now. Four forty-five. Four fifty. Five o'clock. This time I knew I wasn't dreaming. This time I could run, run fast, all the way from the subway to sixty-ninth and down and home and Harry would be there. Down sixty-ninth and up those brownstone steps I climbed one flight. Two flights out of breath. Hurrying. One more. One more. Excuse me, dearie. Do you know what I can find the landlady? It was that woman. The small dark woman with eyes like two shiny brown. Do you know what I can find the landlady? What? What did you say? You live here, dearie? Yes, yes, I... Well, well, tell me then. Do you happen to know if there's any vacancies? Vacancies. No, no. I... I'm... I'm sure there aren't. Oh, me and me husband's been looking for weeks. What a job. Do you know if anybody's planning to move out, dearie? Soon, maybe. Say, where are you going? Say. That woman in my dream who'd been living in our apartment. What was she doing here? Maybe it'd have been more than a dream. Maybe I was thrown ahead in the seven tomorrows to next Wednesday. Maybe by then she'd have her apartment just like in my dream and... and then I'd... Darling? Is that you? Yes. Yes, Harry. You got a kiss for me? Madder girl. You're home early. I hurried. Did you? So did I. I missed you terribly. Come on in. I got a surprise. What kind of a surprise? Never mind. Oh, Maud. Don't ever go very far away again, will you? No. No, Harry. I won't. Good. Now you wait here. I'll be only a minute. I kept thinking. Not a dream. Not just a dream, but a warning. A warning. But that was silly. It couldn't be. I heard the sound of... I couldn't be sure, but it sounded like... I felt the blood rush up to my face and I began to shake all over. I walked into the kitchen. The Harry was bent over a small bowl. I could see the muscles under his thin shirt move up and down as his arm rose and fell again and again and in his hand he held it nice. Maud. What is it? What's the matter? Nothing. What are you doing? Why did you come in? This was going to be a surprise. You're not angry because I spent the money, are you? We've got to celebrate. No. No, I'm not angry. I wish you hadn't come in, though. You spoiled it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Doesn't matter. Nothing matters as long as you're here. He put the ice pick beside the bowl and he took me in his arms. And all the time he kept telling me he loved me, I was looking fascinated at the ice pick thin and sharp. The ice pick. Spoilers surprise. Yes. Yes, I'd spoil it. He thought he was going to kill me, but I wasn't going to let him. I wasn't going to let him. Gee, I love you. I love you. I'd smother the lying words in his throat before he could say them again. I'd been warned and I wasn't going to let him do it. I reached out and I felt my fingers creep around the handle of the ice pick. I was strong and safe now. That dream wasn't going to come true. I'd make sure. I held it tightly and I raised it behind his back and I saw it over his shoulder. Poised like a serpent ready to strike. Ready. Ready. Darling, I love you. I've done it. I put all my strength into that blow and the ice pick half disappeared into him. His arms still around me grew limp. I felt him slide heavily. Big hands dragging up my body as he desperately tried to stay on his feet. His long fingers clutched at my belt and he tore it from me. And then he fell, still holding it in his hand. He was still on my feet. A red circle of blood on his white shirt and in that circle the ice pick. No one saw me leave the house. It was a clear cold night. Overhead a plane made its way past the stars. I remember looking up at it and thinking, you can't even see me. You don't even know I'm here. And then I've just killed my husband and left him lying dead on the kitchen linoleum. But I knew that somehow I didn't care. All I kept thinking was not me, not me. It wasn't me lying dead with an ice pick in my back. I'd been cleverer than he. I'd done it first. I stumbled into the park and then I dropped from exhaustion. I slept all night on the grass. In the morning I remembered that I was so tired. Too sick to care. I was almost sorry I woke up. I didn't want ever to wake up. I started to walk again. I kept on walking until I couldn't go anymore. And there was a bench. I sat down. Someone had been there before and left a newspaper. I picked it up and I read it. And then I knew, big and bold as life or death it must be. Ice pick murder in the words killer, bloody motive jumped crazily on the page. And Harry's picture just as it had been in my dream only this time I read on. Harry Haskin dead. Murdered. Police searching for wife, Maude Haskin. And then I knew what Harry never wanted to kill me. Harry loved me. I tried to run away from his dream. Just a dream and then died. Believe it happened to me. What wrong I've done. We could go Wednesday. I wonder if she's still there. The woman with eyes like two shiny brown buttons reading about us in the paper. I wonder if she's there now. The Americans have brought you Miss Nancy Kelly as star of a week ago Wednesday. Tonight's study in suspense. This is Truman Bradley for Roma Wans, the sponsor of suspense. This is the time of the year when unexpected guests and old friends drop in for surprise visits and joyous reunions. To make the evening more pleasurable, famed hostess Elsa Maxwell makes this suggestion. Serve guests a wine that adds warmth to the welcome. Such a delightful wine is red, red Roma California port. A heartening wine, a gracious wine that adds so much to the enjoyment of an evening with friends. Roma port is vibrant with the rich brilliance of a precious ruby, the softness of velvet, with the fruity fragrance of the fresh grape, and a delicious nectar like taste of natural sweetness. Roma port is a proud wine in a family of California spinest. A true wine, always unvaryingly good, priced so reasonably low. Try Roma port soon, won't you? That's R-O-M-A, Roma port. Nancy Kelly will soon be seen in the Paramount picture. Follow that woman. Next Thursday, same time, Roma Wines will bring you Mr. Glenn Ford as star of suspense, radio outstanding theater 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.