 And I know many things, for I walk by night. I know many strange tales hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. Days of Fear Roseanne Wixom suppressed anger and creased inner fury as she sat in the law office of Ralph Hamilton, listening to the terms of her late father's will. Mixed with a bitterness was suspicion and a trace of fear. She was certain her father had been unduly influenced by Marla Wixom, her attractive and efficient stepmother, who had practically taken over the operation of the Wixom chain of restaurants a few months after her marriage to Jane Wixom, Roseanne's father. Though his sudden passing had been a great shock, Roseanne had accepted her stepmother's story of a heart attack without question. But now as Attorney Ralph Hamilton finishes reading the will, the feeling of uneasiness has recently become something more. Isn't it, Roseanne? Yes. A conviction that your father's heart attack was a convenient explanation of a far more sinister situation. Any questions, Roseanne? Several, Mr. Hamilton. When did my father give Marla the Wixom restaurant? The actual transfer of title occurred about all three months before his death. Why did he do it? He thought it best for everyone. Including me? I would say so. I'm sorry the will seems to have upset you, so, Roseanne. Well, why wouldn't it upset me? Two weeks after his heart attack, I learned that he's given my stepmother our restaurant. And then he leaves me half the remainder of his estate. What remainder? Everything he had was tied up in those restaurants. Your father had a few other holdings for then? Yes. Enough to leave me $300 a month for the next eight months until my 21st birthday. Then I get half of the remainder of the estate. That means half of his house. Marla will see that you never want for anything, Roseanne. The restaurants are doing better than ever. And they belong to Marla. On top of practically disinheriting me for her, he named her my guardian. Only until you're 21, Roseanne. You'll be away at college until then. I'm not going back to college. Of course you are, Roseanne. I promised your father. I didn't. But his greatest wish was for you to graduate. Eight months from now, when you graduate, you'll see things more clearly. You're right, Marla. On both counts, I am mixed up. And I will see things more clearly. That's a promise. As you leave Ralph Hamilton's office, you're certain something is wrong with the whole picture. You've nothing tangible to sustain you, but you're determined to investigate every detail of your father's final month. Your first visit is to Dr. Wells, the physician who attended your father. Oh, yes, Miss Wixen. We met briefly the day of your father's funeral, I believe. Yes, we did. That's why I'm here. I wanted to ask you a few things about my father. Doctor, how long had my father's heart been bad? I couldn't say, really. It was bad when Marla, Mrs. Wixen, that is, called me in. You called my father's wife by her first name? Yes, I did. I knew Marla in the east before either of us came out here. As a matter of fact, I've known her since we were both quite young. When I came out here, I naturally looked her up. And Marla called you in to attend my father? A year after they were married, as I recall. Just, what are you getting at, Miss Wixen? Just information. You're absolutely certain my father's heart was bad. Of course I'm certain. Look here, Miss Wixen, are you questioning my professional ability? The autopsy verified your diagnosis? There was no call for an autopsy. Marla didn't want one. Your signature as attending physician was all that was necessary. Dr. Wells' attitude was far from reassuring, wasn't it, Rosanne? You're more certain than ever your father's passing was due to other than natural causes. And you're certain that Marla, with her powers as guardian, will insist that you return to college immediately. But you've still time to see the chief of police and request an exhumation. I know something's wrong, Chief Branton. I know it. But we must have proof, Miss Wixen. I understand your disappointment. Even your resentment, but we can't take action on the basis of a disappointed, not to say prejudiced daughter. But our father's heart was all right, I tell you. The evidence doesn't bear that out. Dr. Wells has been treating your father for more than a year. Mrs. Wixen was practically running the business. She made certain of that. I should emphasize with your feelings, but... Well, you've been thinking about this so much, you're a little overwrought. Would you mind a word of advice from me, Miss Wixen? Well, no. You're in your last year at college. Why don't you go back, finish up? Maybe by then something will happen to clarify the picture. I guess I have a much choice, Mr. Branton. And something does happen to clarify the picture, doesn't it, Roseanne? Not immediately, no. Not for several months. But when it happens, all doubts of your stepmother's guilt vanish. And you're certain your father's heart attack was murder. A few days before your graduation at midterm, you pant the newsstand and pick up a hometown paper. When you reach the society page, your own heart almost beats the beat. Marla Wixen, wealthy restaurant owner, and Ralph Hamilton, well-known attorney, board trains a Honolulu on a two-month honeymoon trip. Following their marriage in Mexico yesterday. The full pattern is obvious, isn't it, Roseanne? Beautiful youthful Marla, your middle-aged father, his chain of successful small-town restaurants, his handsome young attorney, both ably assisted by Dr. Wells, another of Marla's admirers. Yes, Marla's been very clever, but her two-month honeymoon with Ralph Hamilton provides an opportunity for you to search for evidence, evidence you're certain exists. Immediately after your graduation, you return home. And the following day, you persuade Bob Gordon, Marla's general manager, to let you work in the main office so that you can learn the business. That afternoon, while Bob is busy dictating, you look through a file, cabinet smart. Marla Wixen, confidential. Marla, darling, the Wixen restaurants are now in your name. I had the final papers recorded this morning. They're all permanently and legally yours. Always Ralph. And it's dated April 10th, 1953. Three months before my father's heart attack. You were sure you'd find something like this, weren't you, Roseanne? And a few evenings later at home, you search Marla's room thoroughly. In a lower bureau drawer carefully hidden under the paper lining, you'll find an envelope containing four castles. Take only as directed, Dr. DJ Wells. Why do you wish these tablets analyzed, Miss Wixen? I want to know the basic ingredients. I'd rather not discuss my reasons. Well, this is merely a drugstore. We have no facilities here for chemical analysis. Well, you can send them to a chemical laboratory in Los Angeles for me, can't you? Yes, I suppose so. But would you? Of course, if you insist. We should have the report within a week. Well, would you mail it to me at my home special delivery as soon as you get it? I'm very anxious to see it. Yes, as soon as I receive it. Thank you. Hello, Roseanne. Hello, Roseanne. Surprise to see you. Yes, I got too expected to be gone a couple of months. Ralph has to be in court day after tomorrow. I see. Well, you sound disappointed that we're back. Oh, no, just surprised. Bob wrote us that you were working every day in the main office. Why? Yes, I was wondering about that myself, Roseanne. I find the restaurant business very interesting. I've learned a lot. I'd like to keep on if you don't mind. Why should I mind? If you're not going out this evening, Roseanne, I'd like to talk with you a few minutes. Ralph's working late at the office and we won't be disturbed. All right, Marla. What do you want to talk about? Oh, I'll get it. And never mind, I will. I'm expecting a call. Suit yourself. As Marla leaves the living room, you hurry to the kitchen and carefully lift the receiver of the extension. That's right. Brady renewed Roseanne's insurance policies. Good. She's going to be in for a big surprise, isn't she? I'm afraid so. See you in a couple of hours, honey. Was that the call you expected? It was Ralph. Tell me something, Roseanne. Why did you go to the chief of police last year? Talk a lot of nonsense about your father. Was it nonsense, Marla? Other nonsense. Chief Branton thought so too. He told you of my visit? Yes. And I found out some other things for myself. I went through my personal files at the office and removed the letter. That's true, Marla. And you searched my room too? Yes, I did. Did you find what you were looking for? Perhaps. And what did you do with those capsules you found in the envelope? I'll tell you later, Marla. Maybe next week. You little idiot. What are you trying to do? Make the whole town think I'm a murderer? Look, Roseanne, you're making yourself sick trying to convince yourself there was something wrong about your father's death. There wasn't. Believe me. I've told you I loved your father. He had the finest of medical care. Well? I'm listening, Marla. You're impossible, Roseanne. I'll see you at breakfast. Ralph and I had a long talk about you last night, Roseanne. He seems to think that if he were in your position, he might feel the way you do about him. Really? Yes. He thinks if we saw more of each other, became better acquainted, things would clear up for all of us. How did he suggest we accomplish this family circle? Oh, we're going skiing over the weekend. We both enjoy having you with us, truly. But I don't ski. Well, I don't either, very well. But Ralph is an expert. He'll teach both of us. Why don't you come along, dear? Very well. I will. Good. We'll leave early Saturday morning. You've got the makings of a good skier. Thanks. But I seem awfully clumsy. Well, which Marla could have seen you then? She went back to the lodge too soon. Oh, I still need a lot of practice. Well, this is a real good place for it. It's away from the regular ski runs. You can practice all you choose. You mean alone? Well, sure. Practice on those small slopes for a little while. I want to take the big hill. I'll come back up the rope tow. Now, you just try to keep your balance. That's all. Then we'll go over that ridge and try some other hills. I'll be back soon. You will have enough speed to go over those trees. See you in a few minutes. Back so soon, ladies and gentlemen. Where's Ralph? He wanted to try the big hill. He let me in his spot sort of off the beaten path to practice. Where do you suppose his spot was? Why don't you tell me? About a hundred yards from a 500-foot precipice. You'd never know it was there until you got right to it. How I'm falling over it, I'll never know. Oh, how awful. I'm sure Ralph didn't know it was there. I'm sure of it. The last thing in the world he would want would be for something to happen to me. Now, please, Rosanne. Forget it. I didn't fall and that's all that matters. Well, there's Ralph now. Here we are, Ralph. Over here. What? Oh, what's the matter? Rosanne. When I got back from the rope tow, I didn't see you. I was afraid that you'd... Fallen over a precipice? I could have easily enough. It was only a hundred yards or so from where you left me. A precipice? I thought you came up here rather often. I do, but I seldom get away from the main drag. Oh, my dear child, you surely don't think that I... What is something to happen to me? Of course not, Ralph. Why would I ever think a thing like that? You'd better order some coffee, Ralph. You look as if you could use some. Now you're certain, aren't you, Rosanne? Certain that Ralph and Marla will stop at nothing to get you out of the way. Eliminate forever any possibility of an investigation into your late father's death. For the next few days, you'll watch every move you make. And then the Saturday before Easter, after a late afternoon shopping trip on your way home, you'll run into Bob Gordon, Marla's assistant at the office. How about having dinner with me? I have a better idea. You come on home with me. Chloe, she's our cook. She's fixing a special Easter dinner just for me. You're sure it'll be all right? Of course it will. Besides, I'd like to have you with me this evening. I sort of have to get her. Oh, come on in. Let's go. I've always loved this drive home. Pretty, isn't it? Yeah, let's be. Turns is your tricky. There's never much traffic, and I like to swing around those turns. Makes the tires squeal. Personally, I'm not a speed demon like you, and I don't know this road or your tires. Bob, look out! There was no light. I didn't see that roadblock until we were right on it. I had to either swerve into this hill or go over that cliff. Funny, there were no lights. Lucky I swerved the other way. Real lucky. But I know how lucky. You and Bob were surely fortunate if he'd swerved the other way. That would have been the end of me, wouldn't it, Marla? I got the ski lodge last week. I can't understand about the lanterns. Here comes the gardener with a couple of lanterns. Good evening, folks. Wait a minute, Si. Where did you get those lanterns? From the roadblock. The roadblock? You had them up here. I did know such a thing. That's a job with a highway department. I told you the lanterns weren't very bright. But I was going to report them to the highway patrol. I suggested you go down and brighten them up in the meantime. But you said... I said exactly what I just said. I guess you did, if you say so. But I sure thought you said to give them... Forget it, Si. Just hurry and put them back before someone gets killed. You're really frightened now, aren't you, Rosanne? All evening long, Marlon Ralph hover near you so that you can't tell Bob of your fears. When he leaves, you say you have a headache and go to your room to escape their constant attention. You know the danger you're in, trapped in your own home. When you hear the phone ring, you open your bedroom door and listen. But, Doctor, even if you do have an emergency at the hospital, I want you to come over afterwards. We've got to do something about Rosanne right away. She just can't be handled any longer without your help. Well, I think you'd better come by tonight. She's liable to do anything. The sooner she's taken care of, the better. You lock and bolt your bedroom door, go to your desk, and write a letter to Chief of Police Brandon, outlining me to tell the reasons for your fears and suspicions. Place it behind your mirror. The night seems endless, and you don't even close your eyes. But at last, the Easter dawn breaks and a little before eight, the front doorbell rings. You hurry to your window and see a special delivery messenger leaving by the front walk. Messenger. Yes, ma'am. Did you bring a special delivery letter? Yes, ma'am. For me? Rosanne Wixen? That's right. Good. Will you take this letter to the address on the envelope? Well, that'd be fun. Here, catch. This tenspot should cover your trouble. It's a very important letter. Must be. I'll deliver it personally right away. Thank you. Marla sent up a breakfast tray for you, Rosanne. I'll take it back to the kitchen. Keep it warm for you. We'll be in the dining room. A special delivery messenger at the door just now? He wasn't it? I don't know. Marla signed for it. Take it to the living room. You can ask her about it when you come down. But you're not going to ask Marla about it, are you, Rosanne? You're not even going to see her or rouse either if you can avoid it. You're certain that Dr. Wells' failure to arrive last night was due to his emergency call to the hospital. And you're sure your safety depends on your getting away before he arrives. Once outside, you'll go straight to the police. And this time, you're sure Chief Branton will take action. You throw a few things into an overnight bag, quietly open your door, walk softly downstairs past the dining room where Ralph and Marla are talking in subdued tones across the breakfast table. Safely pass them, you will quickly to the front door and quietly turn them off. Good morning, Miss Wixen. I'm glad I got here before you left. But I'm leaving right now. Not until we have a little talk. Your stepmother wanted me to come by last night. Dr. Wells. Rosanne, I didn't hear you come down. Did you well? I'm leaving right now, Marla. Get away from that door, Dr. Wells. I'll hear you, Rosanne. Take your hands off me. Rosanne, come back here. Get away from that window, you mean. Rosanne, be quiet. You better quiet her, Dr. She's almost hysterical. She's fainted. Out like a light. Or maybe it'll make things easier. Put her on the divan. For a moment after you open your eyes, you wonder where you are. Then as you recognize Dr. Wells bending over you, it all comes back to you. Marla telling the doctor to quiet you. His quick movement towards you. And then sudden, empty darkness. You start to scream and then recognize Police Chief Branton a few feet away. Oh, you... You got my letter, Chief. Yes, I got it. You feel better now, Rosanne? I'm all right, Doctor. She's okay, Marla. Good. Now listen to me for a few minutes, Rosanne. As I told you before, I loved your father very much. He had the finest of medical care. During the last six months of his life, Dr. Wells saw him almost daily. I'm sure he did. Dr. Wells called in three other well-known heart specialists for consultation. The diagnosis was unanimous. Why didn't you tell me this before? When neither Ralph nor I had the slightest idea you suspected us of complicity in your father's death. Until Chief Branton told us after our return from Honolulu. Since then, we've kept in constant touch with him. He knows everything that's happened, including the skilodge and the missing lanterns at the roadblock. All right. Go on, Marla. That letter from Ralph that you took from my files confirming the transfer of the restaurant to me. I bought those restaurants from your father several months before we were married, Rosanne. For what? Because your father didn't want you to be worried with trying to run the business. He left the money in my care. You'll get it on your 21st birthday as I promised him. That's just two weeks away. But why did your father ask me to tell you nothing until you were 21? But after what happened this morning, I decided to tell you immediately. Ralph and I also reinstated some endowment policies that were allowed to lamp. Those were the policies you... Oh, uh, and here's a special delivery letter that came for you a little while ago. Oh, dear Miss Rixon, the chemical report you requested advises that the capsules involved were a harmless mixture of ingredients frequently prescribed for headaches. Cordially R.W. Tunney. Those capsules were for me, Rosanne. Marla, I... I just don't know what to say. Don't say anything, Rosanne. Just forget the whole thing. I realize now what you've gone through. Happy Easter.