 Yes, Roma Wines taste better, because only Roma selects from the world's greatest wine reserves for your pleasure. And now, Roma Wines, R-O-M-A, Roma Wines, present. Suspense! Tonight, Roma Wines bring you Miss Agnes Moorhead in The Thirteenth Sound. 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 better tasting California wines enjoyed by more Americans than any other wine. For friendly entertaining, for delightful dining. Yes, right now a glassful would be very pleasant, as Roma Wines bring you Agnes Moorhead in a remarkable tale of... Suspense! We were driving too fast, but I knew that if I slowed down at all, I would begin to tremble. And so, although the road was tortuous, climbing steeply up the mountain, I kept my foot pressed hard on the gas pedal. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that my husband was looking quietly into the Green Valley far below. He looked peaceful now. He had made his speech about driving too fast. I'd asked him to be quiet, and now he was quiet. I wondered what he would do if I stopped the car and told him right then that we were driving up to the Johnson House so that I might kill him. I parked the car on the highway at the foot of the dirt road leading up to the house. We walked quickly between the heavy trees. My husband stopped once to wipe the dust off his shoes. I hurried him on, and we soon arrived at the front door. As planned, I had forgotten the key. I did open my person look, however, and that gave me the opportunity to release the safety catch on the gun I had borrowed from my husband's belongings. I suggested that we try one of the windows. He agreed, and we slowly made our way through the underbrush that was growing wild at the side of the Stucco building until we reached a first floor window. The window was set high above the ground, and my husband had to stretch his body to reach it. I waited until he had his back to me, with his hands raised high in the air, reaching for the window frame. Then I opened my purse, took out the gun, aimed very carefully at a spot just in the center of his left shoulder blade, and pulled the trigger four times. He didn't fall right away. He had had his fingers over the window ledge ready to unfasten the catch when the bullets hit him. With some terrible effort, he dug his nails into the stucco and tried to keep from dying. I couldn't move. I wanted to scream that my throat felt paralyzed. He tried to turn his face and look at me, but he hadn't that much life left. At last, he fell and felt better for it. I bent and looked at my husband's body. He was quite dead. I wiped off the gun, his gun, and threw it behind in a Kesha bush. Then I walked back to the car, slowly and carefully removing any of my footprints which showed in the loose dirt of the road. At the car, I emptied some cigarette butts from the dashboard ash tray onto the road, dusted my shoes, then turned around and drove home. I put the car in the garage, went in and had my shower, and lay down in the library to wait. A few minutes after the grandfather clock struck 11, the telephone. This is she. This is Jonathan Brown, the sheriff's office. I have some bad news for you. My husband? I waited quietly for a moment. Then I let the phone fall to the floor. I listened until I heard Jonathan Brown hang up. Then I replaced my telephone on its stand, went into the kitchen for some ice which I put in a large Turkish towel. I then arranged myself carefully and attractively on the living room to vent and waited again. In here, please. Oh, yes, thank you. You all right, Miss Skinner? That was a stupid thing for me to do, breaking news that way, you know? No, I'm all right. I came over as soon as, you know, you dropped the phone. Well, I felt faint suddenly. No wonder. Tell me what happened, Mr. Uh, Brown, Jonathan Brown from the sheriff's office. Mr. Brown, well, please sit down. Oh, thank you. Well, your husband was up to the Johnson House this afternoon as well as we can figure. Up there on the side of the mountain, you know, and, uh, well, he must have been trying to get into the window, and somehow, somebody, well, shot him. Yeah, sure you want me to tell you. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Go on, please. Well, we looked around the place, couldn't see anything. Though we found, uh, you know, the weapon. It was a gun found in the brush near where he was and, uh, no footprints or anything. Except tire marks down the main highway. Bunch of cigarette butts where someone must have been sitting in a car waiting, you know. Those were my tire marks. You, you was up there? Well, I had an appointment to meet my husband this afternoon at the foot of the road leading up to the Johnson House. He had said that he'd had some business to attend to and, and would get a ride with this other person. He was very mysterious about it. I waited for an hour or more at the foot of the road. You were so clever to recognize the meaning of those cigarette stubs. Well, when, when he didn't come, I thought perhaps I was mistaken about the appointment, so I drove home. Oh, to think if perhaps I'd gone up to the house, I might have saved my more dear husband's life. There, there, there. Terrible shot. I'm all right. I'm all right. Thank you. Now, don't you worry about a thing, Mrs. Skinner. Sheriff's Office will round up the guilty party or parties and have them brought to trial, you know. Yes, I, I'm sure. I slept well that night for the first time in ten years. My husband during his lifetime had snored loudly and steadily, and during his later years he had acquired the nervous and distressing habit of grinding his teeth in his sleep. This night all was quiet and peaceful in the house, in my house. And as I say, I slept beautifully. The next few days were also beautifully quiet. A few photographers and newspaper men that they were kind and gentle and they didn't make too much bother. Finally, Mr. Jonathan Brown called to say that he would send a car for me on Friday morning, the next day, as it turned out, to take me to the coroner's inquest. The small courtroom was crowded and almost everyone there eyed me with great sympathy. And the inquest proceeded evenly. There was, as yet, no evidence as to the identity of my husband's murderer. I again stated that I had left the tire marks and the cigarette stubs at the foot of the road that led to the Johnson House. No, I hadn't heard a shot. No, my dear husband had no enemies. Then... I've had this blackboard run into court so that I might show the position of the body when found. I think it might be of interest. Yeah, proceed. The body was found just below the first-story window on the left side of the house. The dead man was obviously trying to gain admittance, you know. He didn't die immediately, as I'll show you, but stayed alive long enough to try to keep himself from falling, since marks from each of his fingernails were found running down the side of the building. Here, then, is the window sill. Here are the marks of his fingernails. And here is the spot where the body lay when it was discovered. And here... As he talked, he watched me. And I didn't know why until I heard the first scrape of the chalk against the blackboard. For one awful moment, it was the sound that had been made by my husband as he tried so desperately to hold himself alive. I found myself tightly holding the wooden table in front of me. My arms and body tense. Trying not to think. Since a large deposit of the dried stucco from the building was found under each of the victim's fingernails, I believe I can best illustrate the manner of the victim's last moments with a physical illustration. Now, suppose I am the victim, you know, and this blackboard is the side of the building. We hear the gunshots, then the victim slowly sinks to the ground. Please, please, I can't serve. Oh, please don't serve me. For Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you Agnes Moorhead in the 13th sound. Roma Wines' presentation tonight in Radio's outstanding theatre of thrills, Suspense. Between the acts of Suspense, this is Ken Niles for Roma Wines. Tomorrow on Valentine's Day, delight your Valentine with a gift that's smart, lavish, and in perfect taste. Say it with Roma Champagne, traditional wine of romance. Brilliant bubbling Roma Champagne is an unforgettable token of your thoughtfulness. For pale dry, spitely dry Roma California Champagne, made by the world-famous Charmont bulk process, is sparkling wine at its finest. Yes, to make any golden moment live forever. Say it with Roma Champagne. And remember, you enjoy an exclusive difference of better taste in Roma Champagne. For Roma crushes only the choicest grapes, especially selected for fine Champagne. Then Roma Vintner's unmatched skill, the magic of necessary time, and America's finest winemaking resources guide this grape treasure to rare taste luxury. Finally, from the famed Roma Champagne sellers to you, comes better tasting Roma Champagne. So this Valentine's Day, say it with Roma, Roma Champagne. Golden masterpiece of Roma, the greatest name in wine. And now Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood sound stage, Agnes Moorhead. As Mrs. Sally Skinner in the 13th sound, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. I must have been taken home from the inquest. For the next consciousness I had, I was lying on the guest bed. In the corner sat Mr. Jonathan Brown. He must have seen my eyes open. Ah, any better? Yes, thank you. I'm terribly sorry. That's all right. Quite a strain, you know. Yes, yes, it was quite a strain. The corner asked whether it'd be all right to go on without you. Everybody seemed agreed, you know, so we finished up while the doc looked you over. What happened? He said you'd be all right. Oh, I meant about my husband. He met his death at the hand of a person, a person's unknown, you know. Is there anything further I must do? Not a thing, Miss Skinner. Well, you've been very kind. Sir, the horrible thing happened to you, you know. Then I'll be going now if there's nothing more you need from me. Oh, no, nothing, thank you. Well, goodbye then. And don't you worry. We'll find who did it, you know. After he had left, I had the time to be angry at myself for my behavior at the inquest. What must the people have thought to faint only from the noise of a piece of chalk on a blackboard? I wondered if Mr. Brown had suspected anything because as I remembered, back to earlier afternoon, he'd been watching me as he drew those silly little diagrams on the board. He hadn't been looking anywhere else. Not at the coroner or at any of the reporters or even at what he was doing. He'd been looking at me. Well, of course he was looking at me. He was showing his sympathy. I slowly allowed myself to return to my former position in the community. I was able now to do the things I'd always wanted to do but had been restrained from doing by a certain attitude of my husband's. He never liked entertaining. He didn't believe that we should belong to the country club and take a civic pride in the fact that our home was the largest and most beautiful in the community. In fact, it was his desire to sell our lovely home that caused me to finally take that complete and drastic step. The first evening that I accepted an outside invitation was for one of the Wednesday night evenings of bridge at our club. At my table with the president of the bank and his wife. As I sat down, I noticed that a windowpane on my left was shattered. And even Miss Gray, Miss Gray. Well, good evening, Mr. Brown. Good evening, Miss Skinner. I'm the culprit here. Playing boar with the kids this afternoon. I threw one right through your lovely window. Oh, really? But I brought old Sam here with a new pane of glass and he'll fix his upship shape no time at all. Go ahead, Sam. Sure, sir. Don't mind me, folks. I'll just be a minute. Oh, uh, incidentally, Miss Skinner, I always meant to ask you whether or not you minded noises, especially sharp noises like, uh, say chalk on a blackboard. I don't understand chalk on a blackboard. At the inquest, I always wondered about it. You fainted just when the chalk was scratching across the blackboard. I don't remember hearing it. I'm afraid I fainted before you drew any diagram. I said, that's what you were planning to do, draw a diagram. That's what I was planning to do, yes, ma'am. Yes. Does he have to do that? Is something wrong, Miss Skinner? Does he? Does he have to do that? I can't. I can't. I stayed at home for the next few days. I cancelled all appointments. The heat really was unbearable. In October, I resumed my activities. I began to see people again. I grew especially interested in chamber music. Through my activity, I arranged a musical evening to be given by a group of which I was the second vice president. They planned the formation of a Philharmonic Society eventually. I went to the musical alone, and I was studying my program when... Uh, is this seat taken? Well, good evening, Mr. Brown. Well, Miss Skinner, good evening. Getting recognized, ma'am. Well, I was to be joined later. Well, I'll just sit here a moment, then. You know, I'm terribly sorry about the other night. It's really nothing at all for you to be sorry about. Very kind of you to say that, you know, but I do feel guilty as all sin being the cause of you to get sick like that. Oh, really? Mr. Brown, I wasn't sick at all. What? Mr. Gregg told me I'd probably been affected by the heat. It was very close in the club that night, if you'll remember. Yes, yes, ma'am, it was. Well, just so I don't feel it was my fault, you know. Oh, no, I don't want you to feel that it was your fault. That's very kind of you, you know. Thank you. If you don't mind, I'll stay here until wherever it holds as he gets here, all right? We crave your indulgence and a certain open-mindedness for giving a fair chance to the first piece with which we are going to open our program this evening. The title of this piece is The Thirteenth Sound and the composer is Julian Carrillo. At this piece, because of the unorthodox nature of it, created a veritable furor in New York City some weeks ago on the occasion of its premiere. It's what you call, I guess, modern music and the really unusual thing about it is that the instruments instead of playing as they usually do in Mozart, Haydn, and such classical veins play in quarter tones. Now, a quarter tone is somewhere in between the other tones, such as we are accustomed to hearing. So on this following piece, the instruments are not playing as you would think, out of tune. This is the way it is supposed to sound. Thank you. So now, the various members of the quartet will tune their various instruments into these quarter tones and this is quite a short piece, but I know you're going to like it. Tune up, gentlemen. This should be very interesting. You think so, Miss Skinner? 13th sound. Have you heard it? No, no, I haven't. Too hard again, Miss Skinner. It does get stuffy in here. I'm all right. It's hot in here. You're terribly pink. Are you sure you're all right? I'm quite all right. Excuse me. Will you let me out? I left Mr. Brown sitting there. My man drove me home. I never liked modern music. I locked all the doors and I turned on all the lights and then I did a foolish thing. I found a hammer and a piece of board and I beat and beat and beat and beat on the board with a hammer as hard as I could and finally the heavy, steady, safe pounding that I made drove the other sharp, shrill, awful noise from my mind. Then I turned out all the lights and opened the windows and went to sleep. I didn't sleep well but I didn't stay awake either. I hadn't set the alarm next to my bed and when I first awoke the next morning for a minute I couldn't remember what had happened. I fell drunk. Got out of bed and put on the lovely chartreuse brocade house coat and started downstairs. Sun was shining outside. It was a beautiful day. Not the sort of day when you could be disturbed by unrelated noises. I felt grand when I got downstairs. Then I heard... What? I didn't know. I didn't care. I knew only that I had to stop it before it happened to me again. Stop it! I told you to do your work here. Did someone...? Well, no, ma'am. The lawnmower, the dirtin' thing wasn't cut and I had to... Get out! Get once! Yes, ma'am. Go! I didn't even come back. You hear? Lovely day. I turned and ran. Right back to my living room. I stood shivering there in a beam of sunlight. I waited for him to come bursting into the room after me. I waited... and then the doorbell rang. Just a moment. Did I disturb you? Oh, no, no. Then I will come in. But I can only stay a minute. Would you like some coffee? Oh, no, thank you. When I was so sick, you remember, the doctor absolutely forbid me having any more coffee. Oh, I... I didn't know that. Oh, sit down, please. Do you drink much coffee? Oh, why do you ask? Well, I thought perhaps your recent attacks might have been caused by that. Mr. Gregg is a great one for aspirin and salt tablets. I think it's much simpler than that. Cut out coffee. Well, I... I think my attacks were just caused by this heat. I plan a sea voyage. Oh, House Splendid, that will certainly fix you. Yes, I will. You know, I don't mean to be disrespectful, heaven knows. But perhaps on the boat, you might meet a fine young man who... Well... Perhaps. When do you plan to leave? This afternoon. I'm leaving from New York. Oh! Well, you can't. Pardon? Well, the clubhouse, the unveiling ceremonies of this afternoon. Oh, I forgot. Well, you simply can't leave. We have no one who can replace you on the speaker's platform. Oh, well, I... Well... Well, all right then, Mrs. Gregg. I'll say for the ceremonies. I drove to the new clubhouse of Mr. and Mrs. Gregg. The building was really very lovely. It was almost ready for occupancy. We were unveiling a heroic figure which graced the entranceway. Our speaker's platform was built alongside the figure and quite a few of the members and their families were sitting on the wooden benches in the front patio, waiting for the ceremonies to begin. Isn't this exciting? Oh, yes, yes, very. The ladies have done a marvelous job. Oh, thank you. Thank you. What's that fellow doing up there? What? Where? See up on the roof there, that truckman. Oh, yes. Makes me nervous to see people at such heights. Off the coast ahead. I guess she knows his business, I imagine. Yes, I suppose he... I'm very anxious to hear your little talk, Mrs. Guinness. Well, thank you. I think you've managed admirably since you're unfortunate. Well, you understand. Yes, yes, thank you. Well, I think we should get on with it, eh? Well, I believe it'll be only a few more minutes. What? What is it? What is it? Good heavens. Look, that workman is going far. Can't someone catch him? He's hanging on the ledge. Some of the men are running up there now. They've got to catch him. They will, they will do it. They've got to catch him. What? They saw him. No. Oh, turn your eyes, ladies. Turn your eyes. My nonsense. I didn't. You had nothing to do with it. I didn't. I didn't. I didn't. I didn't. I didn't. Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen to me. Don't you understand? I can't leave him around. Make you stop that noise. I know. I know, man. It's going to be all... Shame. Yeah, people do funny things. Did you pay the fella? Mm-hmm. He's clever. Very clever. Sure is. I really thought he was falling off of that building. It used to be an acrobat. Oh. So how did he make that noise? Yeah. Holding tenpony nails in his hands. Scraped him along the face of the building as he slid down. Did you think of that, too? Mm-hmm. Made an awful racket. Mm-hmm. Pretty. Nice lady, you know. Yeah. What's the devil are you doing? Oh. Fixing my nails, I guess. Well, cut it out, will you? Sure. What's the matter with you? Noise makes me nervous, I guess. You know? Suspense. Presented by Roma Wines. R-O-M-A. Roma. America's favorite wines. This is Ken Niles, returning for a curtain call with a brilliant star of tonight's suspense play, Agnes Moorhead. Apparently, Agnes, you're not superstitious, accepting the lead in a play called The Thirteenth Sound on February 13th. Superstitions are no phobia with me, Ken, but I do have one. What is it? I refuse to give a party for 13 people. Yes, but even a 13th guest is in luck, Agnes, when you serve Roma Port. Ruby Red Fragrant Nectar Sweet Roma California Port adds warmth to the welcome for everyone. And Roma Port is so easy to serve. You simply pour, and hospitality rains. Yes, Ken, Roma Port does make entertaining a pleasure. Not only that, Agnes, there's a difference you can taste in all Roma wines. And this better taste begins with the choicest grapes in all California. Then Roma's unmatched skill and winemaking resources guide these luscious grapes unhurriedly to tempting taste perfection. Later, Roma places this rich taste treasure with Roma wines of years before. And finally, Roma selects from the world's greatest wine reserves for your pleasure. Well, it's easy to see why Roma wines taste better, Ken. Yes, Agnes, and here's the most conclusive proof of all. A gift basket of Roma wines for you and your guests to enjoy with the compliments of Roma, the greatest name in wine. I'm delighted, Ken. Thank you very much. And good night. Tonight's Suspense Play was written by Kathy and Elliot Lewis. Next Thursday, same time, you will hear Anne Baxter as star of Suspense. Produced and directed by William Spear for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California. Stay tuned for the thrilling adventures of the FBI in peace and war following immediately over most of these stations. In the coming weeks, Suspense will present such stars as James Stewart, William Bendix, Eddie Bracken, and others. Make it a point to listen each Thursday to Suspense, Radio's outstanding theater of thrills. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.