 And now here's Act One of the Old Ones Are Hard to Kill. It begins with a stethoscope, a blood pressure reading, an electrocardiogram, and an altogether satisfying report on the health of Mrs. Ada Canby. Well, can't see a thing to complain about either. That little congestion you had last time is all cleared up. All in all, I'd say you're doing fine. You're a woman my age, you mean. The older the chicken, the tougher it is to kill. That's what my grandmother used to tell me. She lived to be 98. Speaking of relatives, you see much of Walter. My grandson, oh, the usual once a year visit. And he always comes up with the same complaint. What's that? Well, it shouldn't be living all alone. Well, because yours must get pretty lonely sometimes. Well, the truth is, Dr. George, I'm not alone there. You're not? I decided to take you in the border last month. Really? I haven't written Walter about it. I'm sure he'd object to my taking in a stranger, but there's really nothing wrong with Mr. Paulson, except his health, maybe. His health? What's wrong with him? Oh, the poor man's had a terrible cold for the past two weeks. Well, let me do a thing for him, though. Well, where did you meet this, Mr. Paulson? I answered the ad I ran. He's just back from South America. Been living in Brazil for years. He's a very nice gentleman, really. He keeps himself from tens of his birds. He has the loveliest blue parakeets. You can hear them chirping all over the house. Don't say anything wrong with what you're doing, either. Just make sure you don't go and catch the man's cold. There's not much chance of that. Poor man hardly ever leaves his room. Well, how much do I owe you? I'll thank you, the mayor. I'm sure you'll forget all about it. Promise me you'll send it. Hot milk and honey. No, thank you, Mr. Candy. Thanks very much. I'm going to try to get some sleep. Well, time I was in bed myself. For money, I was... Mr. Paulson, the doctor... Tell him to free and endow his innocence. Tell them I'm the one who killed Richardson ten years ago. This letter, now. Mr. Walter, I hope you don't mind my turning to you for advice. But I really don't know what to do. It's been three days since my border, Mr. Paulson, passed away. And I still haven't told the police what the man said to me. I just can't bring myself to get mixed up in anything like this. What's the use of writing, Walter? You'll probably think I dreamed it all up. No, I'll just forget it. Forget such a thing. Lindell is innocent. Mr. Paulson actually murdered this Richardson. And Lindell is innocent. Only... Well, who are they? I wonder if it's a telephone book. Well, let's see. Oh, I see. Yes, yes, here it is. Well, I'll try Lindell. That wouldn't be as common, I don't suppose. Yes, yes, here it is. There's only about half a dozen, then. The LMI Heavens. Lindell and Richardson. Both names together. Lindell and Richardson investments. Nine concourse 4153132. I wonder if... Well, maybe... Maybe it's the only way to be sure. I see. Well, is there someone there I can speak to? Yes, please. You can. I want to know about Mr. Richardson. About when he died. I think I did business with him once, a long time ago. Could be a coincidence. I guess it all depends on how he died. How can we be of help to you? I didn't come here to get help, Mr. Shelton. I came to help you, as a matter of fact. Or, rather, somebody you know. Who would that be? Mr. John Lindell. The man who was supposed to have murdered Mr. Richardson. I'm afraid I'm not following you. Well, it took me all week to find out what happened to those two men. And finally, I found the story in the old newspaper room down at the library. About Mr. Lindell being indicted for killing his partner. But I'm sure you know the whole story a lot better than I do. Well, of course I know the story, but that was quite a long time ago, Mrs. Canby. Ten years doesn't seem so long when you're my age. Anyway, the point is that I can help you, Mr. Lindell, only a cat doing it alone. Did you know John Lindell? No, no, I didn't. No, Mr. Richardson, for that matter. The man I knew was named Polson. Who? I rented a room to Mr. Polson, and he died about eight days ago of pneumonia. I was there when it happened. Well, that's unfortunate, but... But before he died, Mr. Polson told me something about Mr. Richardson's murder. He said Mr. Lindell hadn't been responsible. That he, Mr. Polson, had committed it. For money. Mrs. Canby, listen to me. It was this man Lindell that bothered him. The fact that he was in prison for something he didn't do. I thought I should tell you this, Mr. Charlton, because you knew both of these gentlemen. It said so in the newspaper. Mrs. Canby, my dear woman. Pause. I don't know what silly story you heard, but it's completely wrong. There wasn't any question about what happened. This murder of yours, whatever his name is, nearly had an obsession. Well, just the same. I thought you could follow through on this business. Tell the police, because if it is true, Mr. Lindell should be freed. On evidence like that? Well, I don't know anything about evidence. I'm just telling you what I heard. Oh, well, never mind. I suppose I should have told the police myself. Wait, Mrs. Canby. Let me put your mind at rest. John Lindell is no longer in prison. He isn't? He's dead, Mrs. Canby. He's been dead for the last three years. Oh. He wasn't a young man when all this happened. When he accused his partner Fred Richardson of defrauding him and shot him dead. He died in prison? Even if all you say is true that this man was Richardson's murderer, you can't help John Lindell any longer. He's beyond that. But his name, don't you want to tell his name? Have you any proof? Any living witness? Just myself. Forget it, Mrs. Canby. That's my advice to you. The old wound is healed. Don't reopen it. Oh, well, it troubles me so. I haven't thought of anything else since it happened. Perhaps if I saw a minister, if I had some advice from a man of God. Mrs. Canby, now you said something. Now you've shown me the way. That's where our answer lies, dear woman, in prayer. In the forgiveness of our dear Lord. Will you pray with me, Mrs. Canby? Pray? Here? Why not? God is everywhere. Please, join me. Dear Lord, tell us what to do. Give us your divine guidance. Show us the path to righteousness. Help us, oh Lord. Help us to understand. Teach us to forgive the sins of others and to forget them. To forget. I feel much better now, Mrs. Canby. Do you? I'm sure I do. Bring this matter over to God, Mrs. Canby. Not to the police, but to the Lord. It's in his hands now. Don't you agree? Well, in a way, that's true. Since they're dead now. All of them. Mrs. Canby? Yes. My name's Stewart Winfield, Mrs. Canby. I understand you have a room for rent. Yes, yes, yes, I do. Well, I'm new in town. I just arrived from Philadelphia. I've been staying at a hotel, but I'd like something homeier. Well, the room I have is $35 a week. I can't offer you any meals, but you can use the kitchen all you want. Well, that sounds good to me. Would you like to see the room? Yes, ma'am, I sure would. Well, come on in, ma'am. Thank you. By the way, how did you know I had a room for rent? I was going to place an ad this weekend. Oh, I guess someone at the hotel mentioned it. I forget just who. Say, this is a real fine old house, Mrs. Canby. I can see that I'm going to like this place. Just fine. And so Mrs. Canby has a new border. He's a very personable young man. With a great deal more charm than old Mr. Paulson had. Perhaps in a little while, Mrs. Canby will be able to forget her former border. And the shocking confession he made on his deathbed. I'll be back shortly with Act 2. I like that. Stu Winfield took no time at all to make himself at home in Ada Canby's big old house. He loved everything about his room. The fine old four-poster bed. The crazy quilt that Ada herself had sewn up 40 years ago. The lace curtains on the window. He even loved Mr. Paulson's blue parakeets. But what he really seemed to like best was Mrs. Canby herself. Just take me two minutes to get these clean sheets on the bed. Here, let me give you a hand. No, no, no. I can manage. I've been making this bed for almost 50 years. You've lived in this house that long? Didn't hear when I got married back in 1919. My husband David bought it for us. Our only son Ralph was born in it. And you've lost them both? Yes, they're both dead, but I haven't lost them. Oh, yes, yes, I understand Mrs. Canby. I guess I feel that way about my mom. Your mother's dead? Yes, she died when I was two. Well, does the Mr. Winfield, are you sure you want these birds in your room? I could take them to the parlor if you want. No, no, I think they're great. I think everything's great about this house. But there is something you can do for me. What's that? I'm not calling you Mr. Winfield. That's what they call my father's. My name's Stuart. Well, well, Walter, I think it's about time I told you that I have a border in the house. Mr. Winfield is the nicest young man you could want to meet. He's a great deal friendlier than my first gentleman, Mr. Paulson. And he seems to like nothing better than to sit around evenings and talk. We talk about his home and his parents and his plans for the future. Thank you, poor boy. Mrs. is home and family, and I'm sort of a substitute for all that. You know, it isn't really fair, Mrs. Candy. You said I had kitchen privileges, but that doesn't mean you have to cook for me. What's the pleasure, Stuart? I haven't had anyone to cook for in years. You're kidding. You mean to say you cook this good without practice? Oh, you're just being nice. I'm sure that stew is just plain ordinary. Terrific. No kidding. It tastes like, well, it tastes like home, if you know what I mean. But it depends on whose home you're mean. Well, my mom cooks stews like this. That's what I meant. Your mom? But she died when you were only two. Oh, well, I guess I didn't mean my mom exactly. I was thinking of my Aunt Martha. I mean, she's the one who sort of took over the cooking and stuff after my mother died and my father's sister, you know? Well, that was lucky that you had someone to take her place. Yeah, that's right. Excuse me. My Stuart, you're not coming down with anything, are you? No, no, I'm fine. Just a little case of the sniffle. Listen, if your room isn't warm enough, I have an extra blanket. No, no, the room's just fine. Don't worry about it. Well, you'll be sure now. I know I felt a little guilty about poor Mr. Paulson when he got sick. Well, maybe I didn't take good enough care of him. Mr. Paulson? Was that your former border, the bird lover? Yes, yes, that was his name, poor man. Tell me about him. Well, I don't really know that much about him. He lived here less than two months. Well, what sort of a guy was he? Well, very quiet. He kept himself. Did you say he was from South America? I don't remember if I did or not. Well, you must have said it. Yes, of course. He was American, but he'd been living in Brazil. I don't know why exactly. Although, come to think of it, maybe I do. What do you mean? Well, it just occurred to me that Brazil might be just the place for someone who came into a lot of money and wanted to leave the country. I don't understand. Oh, I really think you are getting a cold, Stuart. I'm getting that blanket out this minute. No, wait, Mrs. Candy. I'd rather hear about it. Don't ever mind. I don't want to take any chances. I'll be right back. Yes, Mrs. Candy. Yes, come in. I bought you trays, Stuart. Oh, no, you shouldn't have. You shouldn't have gone to all that trouble, Mrs. Candy. Well, they did trouble. Besides, you've got to have some supper. Feed it cold and start the fever, Mrs. Candy. I mean, I was going to come out to the kitchen and get myself a sandwich or something. You shouldn't have to bring it to me. Oh, look at that. Is that roast chicken? Well, that's what it's supposed to be. It tastes all right. Noodle soup with dumplings. Mrs. Candy, you're spoiling me rotten. Do you know that? Well, I just thought it would be a good idea if you stayed in bed and took it easy. You weren't planning to go out tonight, were you? I was just going to stay in and read for a while. Maybe watch television. That's good. Here, I'll just set this tray down. The service here is just too good. Oh, we never finished our talk the other day about that border of yours. And Mr. Paulson. Well, there's not much to say about him, really. Well, you said something about his living in South America. You said you thought you understood why he was living there. It sounded real interesting. Well, the truth is, George, there is something to tell about Mr. Paulson. Maybe he can help me feel better about it all. About what? I'm not going to tell you if you don't eat. All right, Mrs. Candy, I'll eat. Well, it happened just about... There's nothing, Mrs. Candy, that's about the best roast chicken I've had in years. I'm sure I spoiled your appetite with all my chatter. No, no, that was a really interesting story. But what do you think of it all still? No, the killer is the man who hired Mr. Paulson. Don't you see? Is it right that he should get away with it? No, wait a minute. You're jumping to conclusions. No, I'm not. Do this thing. Well, maybe he was hired by Lindell. And then Paulson got cold feet and Lindell did the shooting himself. No, I'm sure that isn't true. You see, I read the newspaper article all about it. Well, you really were thorough about this. Won't you, Mrs. Candy? Poor man. That cold's gone to your chest now, hasn't it? No, I'm all right. Stop worrying about me. Let's talk about this other problem of yours. Well, maybe I'm making it more of a problem than it should be. Maybe if I just told the police everything, I could forget it once and for all. No, I really couldn't advise that, Mrs. Candy. Well, it's said in the newspaper story that the two men were partners in that investment firm. And Mr. Lindell thought that his partner Richardson was cheating, taking money out of the firm. And that's why he's supposed to have shot him. Wasn't there a witness to the shooting? Well, yes, I think there was. Come to think of it, it was Mr. Shelton. That's right. Well, doesn't that wrap it up for you? Well, it would if it wasn't for Mr. Paulson. Listen, Mrs. Candy, you know how much I like you. Well, in just a few days, you're more like family to me than my aunt Martha ever was. Well, it's nice of you to say so. And that's why I want you to listen to me about this. That's why I want you to forget about this whole foolish thing. Listen to me, you sound awful strong. I'm all right. No, you're not all right. I'm going to get you some cough medicine right this minute. Mr. Shelton, it's me, Winfield. I think I better stick around for a few more days, Mr. Shelton. The old lady's beginning to get fidgety if you know what I mean. Something tells me that Stuart Winfield isn't such a nice young man after all. Could it be that he wasn't telling Mrs. Candy the truth about his dear mother and his aunt Martha? Could he have not told her the truth about his plans for the future? Of course, the real issue is, what sort of plan does he have for Ada Candy's future? I'll be back shortly with Act 3. Or Mrs. Candy. She isn't sleeping well tonight. But of course, Mrs. Candy has good reasons for insomnia. Her thoughts are whirling. Her border steward was right. She doesn't want the bother of going to the police. And she firmly believes in the old adage, if you don't trouble trouble, trouble won't trouble you. But still? Oh my. I'm just never going to get to sleep tonight. Poor Stuart. He's still coughing. I'm sure that room is just too dry. We never should have let any borders in until we got to win this thing. Oh dear, that poor boy. I'll never forget the terrible night Mr. Paulson was coughing, Sebasti. And the way he looked, all gray and shrunken. If only I knew he was so sick. If only he'd never even come to this house. Mrs. Candy. I can't reach you so far tonight. I'll never forget the sound of that man's voice. And now, is it necessary? For a man he spent in jail for something he didn't know? When sleeping dogs. Yeah, I could get some sleep. Man he is. But Mr. Shelton. The way he talked about God. Cramming his desk. Of course God is everywhere but him. Mr. Paulson wasn't the original one. Someone else was too. People say the chief witness against Mr. Vendell was Arnold Shelton. But how could he be a witness? There's something that never happened. How could he be? Tell someone. I'll have to talk to someone. Yes, I'll tell Stuart about it. In the morning. Yes, I'm Mrs. Candy. Come in. Don't tell me I'm getting breakfast in bed too. I know you had a terrible night last night Stuart. You were coughing much worse than ever. I guess that medicine wasn't very good. Sorry I kept you awake Mrs. Candy. That wasn't your fault. Something else kept me up. What was that? Oh, my mind I guess. Maybe I should say my conscience. That sounds serious. But it is something serious Stuart. I might have let a man get away with murder. No, it's even worse than that. He did something worse than murder. You're talking about Paulson again? No, I'm talking about the man who hired Mr. Paulson. He didn't just have that man Richardson shot. He let an innocent person go to jail and die there. Now I'd start committing two murders if you ask me. Well, I have to tell you something that occurred to me last night. Sure, go ahead. Well, it's about Mr. Shelton. Mr. Arnold Shelton. Yeah? Go on. I'm listening. Stuart, I wonder if maybe the reason Mr. Shelton was so upset with me. The reason he didn't want me to go to the police was because he was afraid. Explain what you mean. What I mean is maybe Mr. Shelton had good reason besides the one he told me. He was working for both Mr. Richardson and Mr. Lundell at the time of the murder. Well, so what? Well, he was also the chief witness at the trial. A witness for the prosecution. But he saw the shooting, didn't he? But that's just the point. He saw Mr. Lundell shoot Mr. Richardson. Well, that's not what you told me last time. I mean that he was an eyewitness. No, that's right. He didn't actually see the shooting. He was miles away when it happened. I don't quite remember the details. Is there was something about a phone call maybe? Yes. Yes, that's what it was. He claimed that Mr. Richardson was talking to him on the phone. Mr. Lundell showed up at his apartment. He said that Richardson cried out something about Lundell having a gun. And then he heard the shot. But how could that have happened if the gun was fired by Mr. Paulson? If, Mrs. Canby, that's the big little word, isn't it? If he... But don't you see what I'm saying, Stuart? Arnold Chousen had the most to gain. Jane, from what? From both these men leaving the firm. That leaves the whole thing him. All those customers, all the investments he had. All the commissions or whatever they call it. Are you accusing this guy Shelton of being the killer? Yes. It's the only contest, Stuart. Look, if that was the case, the police would have figured it out. But they didn't. There was nothing in the stories I read that pointed to any suspicion at Mr. Shelton. I don't suppose it even occurred to them. And now the company is all his. You don't call that evidence, do you? No, to the police. Try so hard to talk me out. That man was praised to it. He was taken the name of the Lord. Oh, I'm sorry, Stuart. I'm sorry. I won't bother you anymore. I know what I have to do anyway. Mrs. Candy. I won't be gone long, Stuart. No, no, wait. The minute I get back, I'm going to call Dr. George and ask him to come over. You're... Never mind the doctor. You're calling the police. No, no, I won't call them. You're right. I don't want them tracking mother and father. I'm going down the station house and talk to them. I'll get dressed now and go straight there. Please, please think about what you're doing. I'll tell them what I know and they can do the rest. Now, you've tried to eat something, Stuart. Please. Mrs. Candy. Call me at the office. It's emergency. You sound terrible. What's the matter with you? I'm sick. You're going to be a lot sicker. What are you talking about? The old lady. I can't stop her. She's decided to talk. What? She figured it out. Figured out exactly what you did, Sheldon, and how you did it. You fool. You couldn't stop her. Do you hear me? That wasn't part of the deal, Sheldon. It's all of the deal now. The price didn't include anything like that. The price just doubled. All ladies are always having accidents. Make her have one. Make her have one now, Winfield. All right. All right. She's going to have a fall down there and sell her steps right now. You got to get my robe on. I got to hurry. Open up, Mrs. Camby. You're not in bed. Now you'll go right back there this second. I got to talk to you, Mrs. Camby, before you go to the police. Just listen to me. You're all women. You can hardly talk to her. Go back to bed before you catch the moment. Don't go, Mrs. Camby. It would be better if you never went to the police. Better for you. Better for me. For you? I don't understand. Well, then I wouldn't have to hurt you, Mrs. Camby. That's what I mean. I wouldn't have to do anything bad to you. You are what in the world are you talking about? Come on, all ladies. You're smart, all right. You really think things through. So now, think a little harder. You knew? You were right because Mrs. Chelton told you. Now you're getting there, Mrs. Camby. That's why you rented it. That's why you were sent here. Just to watch you, Mrs. Camby, just to see that you stayed sensible. Mr. Chelton did. I was hoping you'd never change your mind about going to the police. I didn't want this part of it. This isn't the part I like. Let me go, let me go. You just relax. Mrs. Camby, you just get easy. You're the lightest of better, Mrs. Camby. Just like my Aunt Martha would have been if I had an Aunt Martha. Let me go. Please. We've got a date now, Mrs. Camby. Let me go. Let me go. Don't put up such a fight. Mrs. Camby, I'm sick. Remember? Shut your eyes. Please. Shut your eyes. And don't look down. Oh my gosh. I'm so scared. Yes, shut your eyes, okay? Oh my gosh. How is that funny? Get out of the way. Mrs. Camby, I'm so scared. Stay right there. Stay right there. Stay right there. Take the light. Just be glad that it doesn't do at the bottom of those stairs. Will he be all right, Dr. George? Now I do want to worry about that man for. Truth is, his injuries don't amount to very much. A couple of broken ribs seem to be the worst of it. But he'll be a patient for some time before they can put him in prison where he belongs. Him and his friend. What was that man's name again? You mean Mr. Chum? Have they arrested him? Yeah, yeah. That's what the police technically said. I don't understand. Stuart's injuries aren't serious. It's not the fall that made Winfields sick. His case was diagnosed as simple pneumonia at first. And then I remembered about your first border. Nelson was a... No, of course. But he had pneumonia too. He died of it. Oh, is pneumonia contagious? Yes, yes it is, but this disease was even more contagious. It's a pneumonia caused by a disease called cytocosis. Better known as parrot fever. You get it from sick birds like the parakeets in your spare room. Oh, no. Mr.... Corsair's bird? They had to be taken out and destroyed. Oh, what a shame. There's one reason I feel sorry for them. They saved your life. Made Mr. Winfield too weak even to throw a little old lady down a flight of steps. He was poor. You can be grateful they didn't make you sick too. Parrot fever is so contagious that no more than one person in a thousand could be exposed to it in escape infection. It was pretty darn close to a miracle, they did. They're hard to kill, doctor. Remember? The old ones are hard to kill. They say that people are living longer than ever before. And when we look at Ada Canby, we can understand why. She's a tough old lady. So tough she could withstand the threats of man, beasts, and birds. So let that be a warning to all those who think that our senior citizens are easy prey for crime. Watch out. They may turn the tables on you. Or the stairs. I'll be back shortly. We have one final comment for you on behalf of Ada Canby and old people everywhere. There's a saying, There's no fool like an old fool. But it's also true that there's no wisdom and strength like old wisdom and strength. There. Does that make you feel better about your next birthday? Our cast included Agnes Moorhead, Leon Janney, and Roger DeCoven. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. This is E.G. Marshall inviting you to return to our mystery theater for another adventure in the macabre. Until next time, pleasant dreams.