 And now, Roma Wines, our OMA made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. Roma Wines, present. Suspense. Tonight, Roma Wines bring you Mr. Gene Lockhart as star of Statement of Employee Henry Wilson, a suspense play produced, edited, and directed for Roma Wines by William Spear. Suspense. The 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 in entertaining guests, to your enjoyment of everyday meals. Yes, right now a glass bowl would be very pleasant, as Roma Wines bring you Gene Lockhart in a remarkable tale of suspense. I was aware that I was trembling. I tried walking slowly back and forth in front of the desk, but even in motion my knees felt weak, and my whole body shook. I wasn't always I who trembled, and never this pompous insect sitting in front of me. His voice was cool and mocking. His voice was clear and hard. I sympathize with you, of course, Wilson, but your error must be brought to Mr. Larkin's attention. That's quite a big mistake there. Quite a costly mistake. Mr. Larkin, let's know. Good morning. He wouldn't cover it up. I knew that. Since 1938 I'd been working there, enjoying the work, liking the people. Then he had come two years ago. Have you ever stood quietly by and watched someone rob your house or steal your pocketbook? I was helpless. He was ambitious. He was clever, and he was fluent. And as of tonight, I was his subordinate, two years against ten years. Around the office I had a reputation for being casual and carefree, but I hated this man. Every inch of me hated this man. It wasn't a new hatred. Of course there's no question of your honesty. His voice was patronizing the patient teacher and the unruly pupil. I hated him. He smiled up at me and waved his hand in dismissal. He almost brushed a small iron vase off the top of the desk with a gesture. I'd seen that vase so often, but I'd never seen it out of the eyes that I was looking at it with now. Good night, Wilson. Good night, I said. Good night, clever boy. I walked out into the corridor and rang for the elevator. Ah, terrible night, ain't it, Mr. Wilson? I heard the boy talking, like he was yelling from some distant mountain at me. He was talking and I was answering, but what either of us were saying, I didn't know. I was thinking of something else. And then I heard him say something very clearly. What do you know? It's eleven thirty already. You've had a long day today, Mr. Wilson. Yes. Mr. Dodds is still in his office. You might drop in and see if he wants anything. I think he'd be very grateful. Oh, I will, sir. I certainly will. Yeah, it'll help pass the time. I walked out of the lobby and came back into the building again, and the boy got into the elevator. Four flights up. I took the stairs slowly. I was in no rush. I must let the boy get out of the room first. He said the nights passed slowly. This one wouldn't, and yet there'd be an eternity compressed in it. When I got to the fourth floor, I stopped at the top of the stairs and walked the door to Dodds' office. The elevator was parked at the floor, so I knew the boy was in the room. A short while later he came out, and I crouched back in the shadows until he'd gone down in the car. And then I walked into Dodds' waiting room. I called out my name and headed the office proper. He was still sitting down, and the iron bars were still alongside of him, very close to him. I started to talk. I don't know what about, and business, things in general. I've quite forgotten. I reached across and picked up the iron bars casually, very casually. But his eyes went wild suddenly, and he jumped, and I hit him, square on the top of the head with the bars. He started to slump back in the chair. I hit him again, hard, and again, and again. The red streak ran across his forehead, and he lay still. I put my hand against his heart. For a moment there was a soft beating, and then I could feel nothing. I am often very nervous. Ordinary little situations often upset me, like getting up to make a speech at the club, or meeting strange young ladies. I had just taken a life, and I was calmer than I'd ever been before. I wiped the bars off, and put it back on the desk. I moved slowly back to the door. I wiped the door knob, looked once around the room before I opened the door, and stepped out into the waiting room. And then... Going home, Mr. Wilson. I stood there, afraid to turn, afraid to think. I slammed the door shut behind me, and stood in front of it. Are you all right, Mr. Wilson? I tried to talk, but the words got caught so hard in my throat. It was the sweeper, Tom Higley, the night sweeper, crazy Tom. I almost fainted. Everything had been set so nicely. I'd left the building, the elevated boy had come up and found darts in good health. Someone had stolen, later, and killed him. That would be the elevated boy's story. I'd left the building. Are you all right, Mr. Wilson? I had left the building, but... I'm fine, Tom. A bit of a cold, that's all. Mr. Dodge is in his room now, Tom, working very late tonight. You'd better let his office go for this once. Well, if you say so, Mr. Wilson. Of course I could give it a quick brush through, sir. I won't disturb him, then, honest. I stood firm in front of the door. I won't disturb him. He began to sweep the sitting room. I stood and watched him. I was nervous again. I had the sickness at the bottom of my stomach. I tried to talk, to talk, and I sounded stupid. Tom looked at me, and then I thought it would be his word against mine, a crazy, rambling old man, crazy Tom, and I had left the building. Well, well, well, well. Look how dirty it was. Say, I'm a good sweeper. You know that? Yes, sir, darn good sweeper. Do you see this broom? I've got a new broom. See? See my new broom? See it? Yes, sir, new broom. I looked at my watch. It was almost 12. All the time I was wasting with him, I could stand no more. Crazy Tom. His story tomorrow would be listed as an idiot's babble. I had left the building an hour ago. I couldn't afford to waste any more time. I walked behind him. He was laughing, and I hit him on the back of the neck. Not too hard, just enough to stun him. He pitched forward, onto the floor. I dragged him into dog's office. I lifted him into the chair, facing dogs. I brought his new broom in from the sitting room, leaned it against the desk in front of dogs. I took the iron. The iron buzzed. I curled Tom's hands around it for the fingerprints, and dropped it at his feet. Ah. Crazy Tom. An insult. A fight. A killing. I got to the lobby and looked out of the shadows at the elevator. The boy was sitting on a chair outside the car asleep. I came out of the darkness, and I went quickly toward the street and began to walk rapidly. Then I had a sudden idea. I went into a cafeteria and used the telephone. I called the building I'd just left and got the elevator boy on the phone. Hello there, Jim. This is Mr. Wilson, Jim. There are no dogs left yet. The voice that answered me was sleepy, and the words were hard to make out, but I knew all the answers. Well, listen closely, Jim. Will you tell him that the address of the place we were talking about is 144 Grace Street? Yes, one fort. That's right. He'll know what I mean. Will you go up and tell him now, Jim? Thanks a lot, Jim. I'm sure the sweeper would be discovered in the room with dogs. The address was a Turkish bath. A man working all night might want to go to a Turkish bath afterwards. Jim would walk in there now. The sweeper would be caught like a rat in a trap, babbling nonsense, and with a murdered man sitting across from him. I walked home. I sat up in my room for hours, listening to the sounds the Manhattan makes in the night. I heard chimes ring somewhere in the neighborhood. I heard an airplane pass overhead, and across the hall someone started to play the radio softly, and snatches of music filled it into my room. I was frightened. I sat in my chair and prayed. What for? I don't know. Had I done everything to protect myself? Was I safe? I couldn't think clearly now. I'd left the building. Finally, I fell asleep. I sat and slept and dreamed until sunrise. These Roma wines are bringing you Gene Lockhart in Statement of Employee Henry Wilson, a radio play by John Shaw. Roma wine's presentation tonight in Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills. Suspense. Between the acts of suspense, this is Ken Niles for Roma Wines. Right now in sunny California's inflamed wine grape districts of Napa, Sonoma, Lodi and San Joaquin, wine growers are picking nature's grape treasure. To bring you better tasting wines, each year Roma, America's greatest vendor, starts with the choicest grapes obtainable. This year, as always, Roma is crushing from the prized grapes of California's finest vineyards. Patiently, unhurriedly, the vast succulent grape treasure is guided to tempting perfection by Roma's unmatched skill and resources. Then along with Roma wines of years before, this abundance of taste richness awaits selection from the world's greatest wine reserves for your pleasure. And whatever your pleasure may be, an afternoon or evening party, a dinner or carefree evening at home, you'll find there's a Roma-California wine to enrich the occasion. For pleasant entertaining, enjoy gold mellow Roma muscatel or serve fragrant nut-like Roma sherry. Perfect first call for dinner. And to provide tasteful luxury at your dinner table, delicious Roma-California burgundy or so turned. Remember, more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wine. So insist on Roma. R-O-M-A. Roma wine. Largest selling wine in all history. And now Roma wines bring back to our Hollywood soundstage Gene Lockhart in statement of employee Henry Wilson, a narrative well-calculated to keep you in suspense. When I woke up, I was shaking like some miserable wet curd. I tried breathing deeply. Somewhere I'd read the deep breathing kill that scared feeling. What was I frightened about? I was safe. I was completely safe. But when I left the house, I was still shaking. I walked all the way around the block the building was on before I went inside. On the floor where my office was, I saw a policeman, then another. And then a world was bounded by a ring of police and plain clothes men. They assembled all of us in the president's office and then my sharp alert young man began to talk. Last night, last night an attempt was made on the life of one of your associates, a Mr. Charles Dodds. Oh no. A murmur ran around the room. I was talking with the rest, being surprised with the rest. But what did he mean, an attempt? This was a trick. Mr. Dodds was killed. And another man you might know also died last night, Thomas Higby, the night sweeper. Higby, crazy Tom, dead too. Mr. Dodds was clubbed to death. The night sweeper died of a heart attack. Nothing more is known yet about what happened here last night. You must all consider yourselves at the disposal of the police, so you're told otherwise. Mr. Wilson, will you come this way please? Yes. Just a little routine questioning that's all. Everyone here will have to undergo it. Why? Surely. Surely. Thank you. Now, remember what time you left the office last night? What time? Why, 11.30. Yes, 11.30. I remember the yellow boy mentioned it. Ah, what time did you get home? Oh, somewhere about half past 12, I guess. Yes, just about that time. Is there anybody who would swear to that? Well, the elevator boy... I don't mean that. Is there anyone who saw you go into your house at 12.30? No, I hardly think so. At that time the streets aren't too well populated, you know, officer. And I live in a house where people mind their own business. I really don't know anybody in the house, and I doubt if anyone saw me go into it. Now, you can check with the elevator boy, though, as to my going home at 11.30. Yes, yes, we already have. You weren't on the best of terms with Dodds, were you, Wilson? Oh, I was fond of him, Mark. I don't know what right you have to say a thing like that. Kind of did you out of a job around here, didn't he? Well, he was a smart man. Mr. Dodds was an exceptionally smart human being. It wasn't at all a disgrace to lose a position to him. If I killed a man every time I had a job taken away from me, I'd have quite a long line of victims behind me. You made a phone call to him last night, didn't you? To the elevator boy, yes. I remember Mr. Dodds suggesting that he'd go to a Turkish bath after he'd finished work to sort of tone up. Very good, you know. And I mentioned that I knew a good one that I could recommend. And then when he asked me the name of it, I couldn't think of the address of the place. But I thought of it later and I phoned the building. Where'd you phone from? From a little place in the neighborhood. About what time did you phone? About 12.25, I guess. I was getting a little mixed up. It couldn't have been then. I was still in the building at 12.30. They were confusing me. You called at 12.55, Mr. Wilson. So you must have miscalculated the time of your arrival at home. However, that isn't important. None of us is expected to time ourselves from place to place, are we? When we find too good an alibi, we get kind of suspicious. Well, I don't think we'll have to bother you anymore, Mr. Wilson. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Well, there, Wilson. Very sad. This business is very sad. Yes, Mr. Larkin. Yes, sir. But we must go on. Mr. Dodds would want it that way. Yes, sir, he would. It's a responsible job he had, Wilson. You've been with us long enough to know that. Yes, sir. You think you can handle it? Well, sir, I think I... Yes, sir, I think I can. Good. Get your stuff together and take over Dodds' old office. You deserve this, Wilson. I'm sure you'll reward our confidence in you. Thank you very much, sir. Oh, on second thought, I think you better go into his office right away and sort of straighten out some of the things on his desk. Yes, sir. I'll have one of the boys bring your things in later. Very well, sir. Yes, sir. Good luck, Wilson. Thank you, sir. The fat pompous pig. They were in the spot now. Now they needed poor stupid Wilson. They needed me to get them out of a hole. It was funny. I took a pencil and a small notebook out of my desk and went back out into the corridor. I stood for a moment outside Dodds' door, just like last night. Then I pushed the door open slowly, the sitting room. Then the door to the office. I opened it, walked inside. I heard the door close softly behind me and I stood there, smelling the death in the air. And then, and then, I saw it. I tried to yell, but no sound came out. In front of me, sitting in the chair when I talked to him last night was Tom Hidbey. His eyes opened, his expression blank and staring and at his feet was the broom and the vase, the same new broom, the same iron vase. Dodds was all that was missing. I turned, I bolted out into the hall. What's the matter, Wilson? Why, you look as if you've seen a ghost. In the office, in the office, Hidbey. Hidbey? Why? Hidbey's dead man, what's the matter? Miss Lockett, Miss Lockett. What's the matter with you, Wilson? In the office, in the office. What? Nothing's the matter in here. I walked in after him. There was nothing there. Nothing. No Hidbey. No broom. No iron vase. But I'd seen them. I ain't seen them. Was I going crazy? Was I beginning to go mad? I felt Lockett's pat on my shoulder. He might have been something about everybody being a little touchy, a little jumpy. Then he left. And I was alone. No. Be careful. Be careful. Be careful. I stood and stared at the desk and at the chair. No one was there. No one could have been there. I have mediation. What? I beg your pardon. Not at all. I seem to be in the wrong room. I missus Charles Daudt. I'm looking for that young detective. He doesn't seem to be out here. I believe he's in the end room questioning the employees. Oh yes. Then I don't suppose he'll be able to see me for a little while. Do you mind if I wait for him here? Well I... Thank you so much. Excuse me just a second. Frank, will you tell the detective that Mrs. Daudt is waiting for him in my new office? Charles would have liked to see the way everybody is taking his death. Everyone is so kind to me. Mr. Daudt was a fine man. A fine man. Yes. You're Mr. Wilson, aren't you? Yes. He used to talk about you, Mr. Wilson. Thought you were a very bright person. He seemed very fun. I... I just don't know how I'll be able to go on without him. Mr. Daudt, you mustn't. You mustn't. Sorry. He wouldn't like to see me carrying on like this, would he? You know, we were going to buy a home in Westchester this summer. You ever tell you that, Mr. Wilson? No. Yes, just... just outside of Yonkers. We... we have two lovely little ones. No, Toby and little Mary. They love the New York State countryside. On... on she rambled. He liked this. He didn't like that. The children. Yes, and the children. Toby and little Mary. Little Mary and Toby. She was driving me crazy. Stop it, I want her to yell. Get out of here. Leave me in peace. Get out of here, you witch. Mrs. Dodge, Detective Lewis would like to see you now. Oh. Thank you for everything, Mr. Wilson. Bye. Goodbye. Goodbye. Get out and leave me alone. I hadn't meant to do anything like that. I hadn't wanted to do any of the things I was doing. All I'd wanted to do was to kill Dodge. All these other things, they weren't mine. I hadn't killed Higbee. He can't haunt me. His wife can't cry at me. Ah. Ah. Heart attack. Yes. Higbee died of a heart attack. I beg your pardon, sir. Have you seen Mrs. Higbee the detective is looking for? How would I see her? Am I everybody's guardian? How can anybody get lost in this office? Sorry, sir. Mrs. Higbee. Mrs. Higbee. Stop it, you fool. You howling idiot. Can't you be a little more quietly? You'll drag Higbee from his grave with your yelling. Two widows. What? You manufacture widows. Don't you, Mr. Wilson? Widows and orphans. Tell me, Mr. Wilson, is it your life's work? Or is it just a hobby with you? Tell me, Mr. Wilson. Who is that? Who is that talking? Do they think they can make a fool of me? Ah. Ah. The office communication system. No. No, it's off. Stop it, Mr. Wilson. You'll go bombing. You've committed the perfect crime. Don't go crazy and spoil it. Perfection is instinctive with you. Yes. Not a plan, did you make. Spontaneous perfection. There aren't many who do that. Go on. Voices can frighten me. They deserve to die. And that's why they're dead. Thou shalt not kill, Mr. Wilson. Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not kill. No. Not Higby. I didn't kill crazy Tom. His heart stopped. Do you hear me? That's all. I didn't kill him. Now you voices stop. You stop. Do you hear me? Stop. I command it. Stop. There's something wrong, Mr. Wilson. What? Do you hear them too? They lie. You hear me? They lie. Now get out. Get out. You must talk only to me. You understand me? Only to me. Not to these others. Don't say anything to these others. Only to me. Only to me. What do you want? Well, I don't know. You think they'll say something bad about me, don't you? Say you can carry me off to jail. That's what you're waiting for, isn't it? Well, you're going to be disappointed. You see? They're quiet. What's quiet? Who's quiet? You think I'm going to tell you? They won't say anything unless I tell them to. And I'm not going to tell them to say anything. Not one little word. Last night. You want to know about last night. Ask them. But they won't tell you. Come here, Lieutenant. Look at the expression on that man's face. They were there. They saw me hit him. But they won't say anything. They were there. But they won't tell you anything. Not one little word. We could have gotten them out in some other way. You and your psychology. You should leave that stuff in college. All I did was plant Higbee in the office and wrote Mrs. Dodds in here and talked in the ventilating system. Well, those voices had me creeping too. Incidentally, it does. It was single. What? That girl's my fiance. She's an actress. Well, for crap. Why did you tell them Higbee was dead? Well, I know. No, maybe you better not explain. A little word. Psychology, huh? Well, what are we going to do with the confession now? We should have pinched him the moment he walked in here. Do what I tell him. I'm lucky I never went to college. There's no use. Where are you waiting here? They won't tell you anything. They're mine. All mine. I tell them what to say. Come on. Come on. Get the wagon up here. I'm not going to walk this thing through the street. Henry Wilson, it is the judgment of this court that you be sent to the Hillview mental home and be kept there in close confinement. On, on the voice went. I'd stop listening to voices, all but the ones that I couldn't help hearing. But I'm not, I'm not crazy. Not like Tom. I am not crazy. I tell people that and they look at me clearly. The stupid fools. The guards here have spread the lie that I have fits. Lies. Lies, I tell you. They say every night when the moon comes up I have fits. Loud roaring fits. Well, they lie. It's then I hear the voices. I hear Don's and his wife and Toby and little Mary. I sit quietly, listen to them. Do you think I could have a fit in front of him? Do you know? I'd be ashamed. I tell you I'm not crazy. They lie. All of them. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. This is Ken Niles to tell you sincerely Mr. Lockhart. That your performance just now was one of the most intense and thrilling we've ever had on suspense. I know Bill Spear, our producer-director agrees. Yes, I can see him waving his congratulations from the control room. Thank you Mr. Niles and thank you Bill. We want you to enjoy this gift basket of Roma Wine as a token of our appreciation. Thanks again. We're a fine assortment. Tell me, Ken, I shouldn't say this very loud, I suppose, but Mrs. Lockhart linked her long lashes at the butcher this morning, and for this, tonight, we're having steak. Which Roma wine do you recommend we serve for the occasion? Well, my choice with steak, Gene, is Roma California Burgundy. You'll find red Roma Burgundy the perfect flavor mate for a thick, juicy sirloin or porterhouse. For Roma Burgundy, it's so good, has such tantalizing taste harmonies with red meats, it makes even plain hamburger an epicure's delight. Yes, robust Roma Burgundy brings out all the subtle hidden flavors in hearty foods, adds richly to your enjoyment of any meal. So, I'd say that with Roma Burgundy on the table, you're all set for a delightful adventure in dining. Thanks for your advice, Ken. Now, I'm looking forward to dinner especially. And Roma Burgundy is so good because only Roma, America's greatest bartender, selects from the world's greatest reserves of fine wines, a treasure of taste from the choicest grapes of California's finest vineyards. So every Roma wine is better tasting every time. No wonder more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wine. No wonder indeed. Who will be appearing on suspense next Thursday, Ken? One of America's most glamorous stars will be with us next week, the Army's number one pin-up girl, Miss Rita Hayworth. Mr. Spear has been telling me a little about the story. I won't spoil it for you, but you'll want to tune in because lovely Rita Hayworth plays a role completely different from any you've ever seen or do on the screen. Nobody will want to miss that, certainly not me. Good night. Good night, James. Ladies and gentlemen, due to the ending of Daylight Saving, suspense will be heard next week at a different time on some of these stations. Consult your local newspaper for the right time to hear Rita Hayworth next Thursday on Suspense, presented by the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California.