 Now, the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California presents... Suspense! Tonight, 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! A blue suit that wrinkled too easily and 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 Haskin. But suddenly I've become other people and a million someone else has read about me. I'd like to tell you how it was. Harry and I had quarreled 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 good-bye that morning. I nearly fell running up those narrow little steps. I stumbled a half a dozen times before I reached the third floor. Part in 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 stogged 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. She was wearing a flowered apron and in her hand she held a limp dish towel. I blinked at her stupidly. Well, what is it? I don't want to buy anything. I'm busy. I'm making supper. But you don't understand. I'm looking for somebody. What apartment did you want? This is 3B. 3B? What are you looking for? Oh, but I'm not. I... I won't be much help in here. 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 your clothes? Why, they're sopping wet. Oh, the rain. I got caught in the rain. What are you talking about? Isn't it raining? Oh, but you're wrong. It is raining. I don't think you're playing. Are you sure? I ran all the way because there was thunder and lightning. We had a storm a week ago, but it didn't rain like that since Wednesday. Wednesday? A week ago? Oh, no. Here, don't do that. You sit down there, dearie, and I'll get some water. Don't move now. And supper not ready. I sat on the sofa. I had talked just last night about having the spring and 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. 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 mantel. 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? Much. Thank you. Want me to call a cab for you? Where do you live, dearie? Why, I... You were looking for someone when you come. Friends are yours. Huh? Friends? Friends, yes. Yes, friends of mine. Harry and Maud Haskin. Haskin? But don't you read the papers? You mean you don't 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 in apartments and apartment these days, foolishness being squeamish about those things. But I said to him, Charlie, it's a vacancy. 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 pictures. 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, none. But my Charlie won't eat there. Ice-pick? Murdered? Isn't it awful? And everybody says there seemed 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. But, sir, can I see the 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 would be gone. But they weren't. Big and bold as life or death, they mocked me. Ice-pick murderer awaits conviction. And underneath the little black letters, piece 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. Let us sit down again, dearie. No. No, let me alone. Sure. All right. All right. After all, I didn't ask. Oh, I'm sorry. You've been very kind. Please, I'm better go. I'm sorry. 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. 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 tried to regain it dizzily. I'm a fireman! He toppled over and fell in a pathetic little heap on the ground. His knee was bleeding. I ran over to pick him up. My arms outstretched to lift him to his feet again. And then I remembered he was dead. 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. Hey, lady! Lady! I ran faster and faster till I couldn't hear him anymore. Then, 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 and tried to sleep. I knew I was awake before I opened my eyes and smelled like morning fresh and clean and I felt 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 and 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! 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 lead me. We left the park from the entrance on 72nd Street as a little boy on a scooter came tearing around the bend. Toot Toot! I'm a fighter! Toot Toot! I'm a fighter! Toot Toot! I'm a fighter! 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 Theatre 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. 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 Maud 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 the 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 dish is still in the sink. Never mind. I'll wash them. Maud. Darling. Yes? Come here with you. Why are you standing near the mantel? Oh, I was looking at... 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 that 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 bent 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 that tiny pulse in my throat beating quick and sharp if 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 mantel 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, Lord, sweet dawn. Please, dawn. You're home now. We ate breakfast on the little table near the window. 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 it dropped. Don't worry about it. I'll get the broom. Sweep it up. Come on. 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. Come on. 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. Let's move with honeyed words. But what was on his mind? I love you. Do you? Don't you know I do? Of course. Of course I do. You'll be home right after work? Yes. Maybe we'll go to a movie or something. Would you like that? We'll see. All right. We'll see. Subway lucky always did. And when he kissed me, could buy 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. Ham on rye. Coffee. Come on. 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 Maud Haskin. When there was nothing in it about a nice pick murder in Harry's picture, I began to feel a little foolish. Hey, y'all lady. Ham on rye. Jav on its way. I'd fallen asleep on a park bench and I had a dream that was all just a nightmare. Afraid? Afraid of Harry? 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. 4. 4. 30. 4. 35. I wanted to get home and tell him I was all right. I was all right now. 4. 45. 4. 50. 5 o'clock. This time I knew I wasn't dreaming. This time I could run, run fast all the way from the subway to 69th and down and home and Harry would be there down 69th 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 where I can find the landlady? It was that woman. The small dark woman with eyes like two shiny brown. Do you know where I can find the landlady? What? What did you say? You live here, dearie? Well, tell me then. Do you happen to know if there's any vacancies? Vacancies? No, no. I'm sure there aren't. Oh, me and my 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? That woman in my dream who'd been living in our apartment. What was she doing here? I was thrown ahead into seven tomorrows to next Wednesday. Maybe by then she'd have our apartment just like in my dream. 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. 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. Oh, 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. 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 a nice kick. 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. I spoiled it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Doesn't matter. Nothing matters as long as you're here. He put the icepick 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 icepick thin and sharp. The icepick. 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 icepick. 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... I've done it. I put all my strength into that blow on me. Icepick half disappeared into him. What? What? I... 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 icepick... 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 that I've just killed my husband and left him lying dead on the kitchen linoleum. But I knew. Sometimes somehow I didn't care. All I kept thinking was, not me, not me. It wasn't me lying dead with an icepick 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. But I was 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. 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 mocked me. Icepick 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. Harry never wanted to kill me because it's so hard to believe it happened to me. They for me. I know now what... I wonder if she's still there. A woman with eyes like two shiny brown buttons reading about us in the paper. I wonder if she's there now. A week ago Wednesday, tonight's study in... Suspense. This is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines, 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. This 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's finest. 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's Outstanding Theater of Thrill presented by Roma Wines. R-O-M-A. Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.