Suspense!
This is the man in black, here again to introduce Columbia's program, Suspense.
With us in Hollywood tonight as star is Mr. Gene Lockhart, whose remarkable characterizations
on the screen have won him a notable following with American audiences.
It is with rueful satisfaction, but with satisfaction nonetheless, that the genial Mr. Lockhart
contemplates his reputation.
Because of his cinematic misdoings, his numberless treacheries, betrayals and cowardly villainies,
he is one of the most hated men in the country today.
Our story this evening by John Shaw is called, Statement of Employee Henry Wilson.
And so with the performance of Gene Lockhart, as he relates and relives the events of the
climactic moment in Henry Wilson's life, we again hope to keep you in Suspense.
I, 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 was it 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.
Well, I sympathize with you, of course, Wilson, but the error must be brought to Mr. Larkin's
attention.
It is quite a big mistake, though, quite a costly mistake.
Mr. Larkin must know.
He wouldn't cover it up.
I knew that.
Two years ago, this man had come with the firm.
For eight years before that, I had worked there, enjoying the work, liking the people.
And then he had come there.
Have you, have you ever stood quietly by and watched someone rob your house and steal your
pocketbook?
I was helpless.
He was ambitious.
He was clever.
He was fluent.
And as of tonight, I was his subordinate.
Two years against 10 years.
Around the office, I had a reputation of being casual and carefree.
But I hated this man.
Every inch of me hated this man.
And it was not a new hatred.
Of course, there is 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 the gesture.
I, I had seen that vase so often, but I had 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.
What a terrible night, ain't it, Mr. Wilson?
I heard the boy talking, like he was yelling at me from some distant mountain.
He was talking and I was answering, but I rather whether or not I was saying I didn't
know.
I was thinking of, of something else.
I looked at my watch as I stepped out of the car.
It was 11.30 already.
I mentioned it.
You've had a long day today, Mr. Wilson.
Those were the first words of the boy that I heard.
Heard clearly.
Very clearly.
A yes, I told him.
Oh, plenty of overtime this week.
I stood and looked at him for a moment.
Mr. Dodds is still in the office.
You might drop in and see if he wants anything.
I think he'd be very grateful.
I will, sir.
I certainly will.
It'll help to pass the time, sir.
I don't like to complain, but these nights pass awful slow sometimes.
Ah, yes.
Go up and see if he wants anything.
Go up and see.
I walked out of the lobby and came back into the building again when the boy had gotten
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 would be an eternity compressed in it.
When I got to the fourth floor, I stood at the top of the stairs and watched 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 the room, not in a crouch or moving my feet so that
no sound would wake the stillness, but casually, honestly.
There was a small waiting room at Mr. Dodds' office.
In two years, he had a waiting room.
In ten, I had none.
I felt like laughing at the symbolism of that fact.
Who's there?
I called out my name and entered his office.
Yes?
What is it, Wilson?
He was still sitting down, and the iron vase was still alongside of him, very close to
him.
I started to talk.
I don't know what about business, things in general.
I've quite forgotten.
I reached across and picked up the iron vase 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 vase.
It wasn't a very good shot.
I had no leverage, but he started to slump back in the chair.
I hit him again hard, and again and again, and a red streak ran across his forehead,
and he laced him.
I put my hand against his heart.
For a moment, there was a soft beating, and then I could feel nothing.
I was very calm and very warm.
I was calmer than I'd ever been before.
I wiped off the vase and put it back onto the desk.
I ran through the papers the guards had been looking at until I found the one paper I was
looking for.
I ripped it into little bits, and I put the pieces into my pocket.
Outside the building, my first act would be to scatter the pieces.
I'd cover my mistake myself.
I moved slowly back to the door.
I wiped the door knob and 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 somewhere in my throat.
It was the sweeper, Tom Heapy, the night sweeper.
I almost fainted.
Everything had been set so nicely.
I'd left the building.
The elevator boy had come up and found Dodds in good health.
Someone had stolen him later and killed him.
That would be the elevator boy's story.
If there was no suspicion attached to anyone, it would be the boy.
I had left the building.
I had left the building, but now this.
Are you all right, Mr. Wilson?
I'm fine, Tom.
A bit of a cold, that's all.
A weakens one.
How are the wife and kids?
Fine, fine.
The shock was wearing off.
Mr. Dodds is in his room now.
Tom, working very late tonight.
You'd better, you know, let his office go for this once.
Well, if you say so, Mr. Wilson.
I could give it a quick brush, though, sir.
I wouldn't disturb him, none.
I stood firm in front of the door.
For a moment, I wondered if he'd seen anything when I'd come out of the room.
It was possible.
He could have looked over my shoulder.
Ah, no.
No, he hadn't seen anything.
He began to sweep the sitting room, and I stood and watched him.
I couldn't let him get out of here.
I'd go to the chair if he told me about being there.
And I couldn't kill him, too.
Oh, what a quick step it had been.
Back to normal.
I was nervous again, and I felt a sickness at the bottom of my stomach.
I tried to talk, to talk, and I sounded stupid.
Tom looked at me.
I wouldn't.
I wouldn't have to touch him.
It would be his word against mine.
And I had left the building.
I opened the door quickly and went back into Dodds' office.
I tried to keep my eyes away from that thing at the desk.
I remember that he'd kept a bottle in one of the doors, and I took it and brought it
out to the sitting room with me.
Oh, Tom, Mr. Dodds has a birthday tomorrow, and he wonders if you'll drink his health
with me.
Well, I don't think you'd better take any tonight.
Mr. Dodds has a birthday.
Sometime tomorrow he'll be a day old in the next world.
Tom was famous for his liquor habits, but he hesitated.
Well, now...
I poured the drinks.
I don't think you'd better...
Up with it, Tom, and down with it.
And here's to Mr. Dodds.
Well, all right.
Here's kindness.
He drank one.
He drank another.
He drank a third, and still I poured them into him.
He got talkative and grew very gay, but he didn't pass out.
I looked at my watch.
It was almost half past 12.
One whole hour I'd wasted with him.
I could stand no more.
He was drunk.
Any test would show that.
His story tomorrow would be listed as a drunkard's babble.
I had left the building an hour ago.
I couldn't afford to waste any more time.
I walked behind him, and he was laughing.
And I hit him as hard as I could on the back of the neck.
He pitched forward off the chair onto the floor.
I dragged him into Dodds' office, and I lifted him into the chair facing Dodds.
I brought the bottle in from the sitting room and put it on the desk in front of Dodds.
I took the iron vase and curled Tom's hands around it for the fingerprints, and I dropped
it at his feet.
A bottle.
A fight.
A killing.
I was sweating.
I went out into the sitting room again and almost fell to my knees.
I was frightened.
I had to get out of here.
I got to the lobby and looked out of the shadows at the elevator.
The boy was sitting on a chair outside the car, and he seemed asleep.
I came out of the darkness and went quickly towards the street and began to walk rapidly.
I wanted to get somewhere out of the world.
Would I ever sleep again?
Many murderers are not supposed to, and I want to rest.
Ah!
I had a sudden idea.
I went into a cafeteria and used the telephone.
I called the building and got the elevator boy on the phone.
Hello there.
Hello, Jim.
Oh, this is Mr. Wilson, Jim.
Has Mr. Dodds 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 Grey Street?
Yes, one for...
Yes, that's right.
Oh, he'll know what I mean.
Will you go up and tell him now, Jim?
All right.
Thanks a lot, Jim.
I was sure the sweeper would be discovered in the room with Dodds.
The address was a Turkish bath.
It's logical.
A man working all night might want to go to a Turkish bath afterwards.
Jim, Jim would walk in now, and Heaven only knew what came next.
The sweeper would be caught like a rat in a trap, drunk, and with a murdered man sitting
across from him.
I walked home through streets that crushed me in their shadows, between walls that whispered
at me as I passed.
I sat up in my room for hours listening to the sounds Manhattan makes in the night, and
finally, finally I fell asleep.
And I sat, and I slept, and I dreamed until sunrise.
I woke with a start.
I was shaking like some miserable wet cur.
I took a drink and tried breathing deeply.
Somewhere I read that deep breathing killed that scared feeling.
What in blazes was I frightened about?
I was safe.
I was completely safe.
But when I left the house, I was still shaking.
I walked all around the block that the building was on before I went inside.
It looked like any other morning.
On the floor where my office was, I saw a policeman, and then another, and then my world
was surrounded by a ring of police and plainclothes men.
I must watch my nerves.
I must move carefully, very carefully.
None of them paid any more attention to me than they did to any of the others.
They assembled all of us in the president's office, and then one of them, a sharp alert
young man, began to talk.
Last night, please.
Last night an attempt was made on the life of one of your associates, Mr. Charles Dodds.
A murmur ran around the room.
I was talking with the rest, being surprised with the rest.
But what did he, what does he mean, an attempt?
Dodds had been dead, or had he?
Unfortunately, however, the attack was not successful.
And Mr. Dodds has supplied us with some rather unbelievable information.
Oh.
Information which we are checking.
I tried to hold myself.
I felt faint suddenly, and then something happened inside me, and I did not break.
It was a trick.
I was sure of it.
The detective stared at us, running his eyes across our faces, across my face, searching,
staring, and then he, he shrugged his shoulders.
Well, as a matter of fact, Mr. Dodds was killed.
And another man you might know also died last night.
Mr. Thomas Higbee, the night sweeper.
Higbee?
Dead, too?
Again, that rustle of voices, that droning conversation that I was part of.
Some of them had known Higbee, liked him.
I hadn't meant to kill him.
Could there be some mistake?
I wanted to ask one of these men.
Was there some mistake?
I hadn't meant to kill him.
Mr. Dodds was clubbed to death.
A night sweeper died of a heart attack.
Nothing more is known as yet about what happened here last night.
You must all consider yourselves at the disposal of the police, till you're told otherwise.
Blast them.
Why didn't they say something?
They were lying to these people.
Nothing more was known.
That's nonsense.
Why, it was all there for them to see.
It told its own story.
Higbee had killed Dodds.
Poor, harmless little Higbee had killed that big, famous executive.
And now...
Mr. Wilson, will you come this way, please?
Just a little routine questioning, that's all.
Everybody here will have to undergo it.
I must wash myself.
I must go very slowly.
Sit here, won't you, Mr. Wilson?
Now, do you remember what time you left the office last night?
Yes, yes.
It was 11.30.
I remember mentioning it to the elevator boy.
And 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...
Oh, I don't mean that.
Is there anyone who saw you go into your house at 12.30?
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 anybody saw me go into it.
But you can check with the elevator boy, though, as to my going home at 11.30.
Yes, we have already.
You weren't on the best of terms with Dodds, were you, Wilson?
Oh, I was fond of him.
But I don't know what right you have to say a thing like that.
He kind of did you out of a job around here, didn't he?
Oh, he was a smart man.
Mr. Dodds was an exceptionally smart man.
It was not at all a disgrace to lose a position to him.
When I left him last night, he was in excellent health.
And 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.
Of course, I'm just joking, you know.
You made a phone call to him last night, didn't you?
Yes, to the elevator boy.
I remember suggesting that he go to a Turkish bath after he'd finished work to sort of tone
up.
They're very good, you know.
And I mentioned that I knew a very 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.
I thought of it later, though, and I phoned the building.
Where'd you phone from?
From a little place in the neighborhood.
And about what time did you phone?
Well, it was 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 exactly 12.55.
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.
He asked me to send somebody in to see him as I went out.
I forget who it was.
I was thinking very hard.
I went into my office and sat down.
So easy.
Was it possible the whole thing was over and so easily?
Hello there, Wilson.
Very sad, this business.
Very sad.
Good morning, Mr. Larkin.
But we must go on.
Mr. Dodds would want it that way.
Yes, sir, he would.
It's a responsible job he had, Wilson, but you've been with us long enough to know that.
Yes, sir.
Do you think you can handle it?
Well, sir, I...
Yes, sir, I think I can.
Good.
Get your stuff together and take over Dodds' old office.
You deserve this, Wilson, and I'm sure you'll reward our confidence in you.
Well, thank you very much, sir.
Of course, I hardly expected...
On second thought, I think you'd better go into his office right away and sort of straighten
out some of the things on his desk.
I'll have one of the boys bring your things in later.
Very well, sir.
Good luck.
Thank you, sir.
The fat pompous pig.
Why hadn't he said those things before last night?
They were all in a spot now.
They needed poor, stupid Wilson.
They needed me to get them out of a hole.
The further the thing went, the funnier it got.
Books were wrong about virtue and good, counting for anything.
To get ahead, you either married the boss's daughter or killed the boss.
I took a pencil and a small notebook and went out into the corridor.
I stood for a moment outside Dodds' office, just like last night, and then I pushed the
door open slowly, the sitting room, and then the door to the office.
I opened it and 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 saw it.
I tried to yell, but I couldn't get the words out.
There, there in front of me, sitting in the chair.
What I'd propped him last night was Tom Higbee, his eyes open, his expression blank and staring,
and at his feet was the bottle and the vase, the same bottle, the same vase.
Dodds was all that was missing.
I turned and I bolted into the hall.
Higbee?
What's the matter, Wilson?
You look like you'd seen a ghost.
In the office, in the office.
Higbee.
Higbee?
Why, Higbee's dead, man.
What's the matter?
Mr. Larkin, where's Mr. Larkin?
Here I am, Wilson.
What's the matter?
In the office, in the office.
What?
Why, if nothing's the matter in here, I don't...
I walked in after him.
There was nothing there, nothing.
No Higbee, no bottle, no vase.
But I saw them.
I saw them.
Oh, was I going crazy?
Was I beginning to go mad?
I felt Larkin's pat on my shoulder.
He murmured something about everybody being a little touchy, a little jumpy.
And then he left and I was alone in the room.
Be careful, be careful, be careful.
I stood, I stared at the desk and at the chair.
No one was there.
No one could have been there.
I must watch myself.
What?
Oh, I beg your pardon.
Oh, not at all.
I seem to be in the wrong room.
I'm Mrs. Charles Dodds.
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.
Then I don't suppose he'll be able to see me for a little while.
Do you mind if I wait here for him?
Well, I...
Thank you so much.
Excuse me for a second.
Charlie, will you tell the detective that Mrs. Dodds is waiting for him in...
in my new office?
Oh, you've already seated yourself.
I was going to suggest that perhaps this seat might...
She was sitting in his chair.
There was blood in that chair.
This is quite all right, thank you.
Charles would have liked to see the way everybody's taking his death.
Everyone is so kind to me.
Mr. Dodds was a fine man, a fine man.
You're Mr. Wilson, aren't you?
He used to talk about you.
Thought you were a very bright person.
He seemed very fond of you.
I...
I don't know how I'll be able to go on without him.
Mrs. Dodds, you mustn't, you mustn't.
I'm sorry.
He wouldn't like to see me carrying on like this, would he?
We were going to buy a home in Westchester this summer.
Did he ever tell you that?
Yes.
Just outside Yonkers.
We have two lovely little ones.
Toby and Little Mary.
He loved the New York state countryside.
We talked so much about it.
On, on she rambled.
He liked this.
He didn't like that.
The children, the children.
Toby and Little Mary.
Toby and Little Mary, she was driving me crazy.
Stop it, I wanted to yell.
Get out of here and leave me in peace.
Get out of here, you witch.
Get out, get out.
Mrs. Dodds, Detective Lewis would like to see you now.
Thank you for everything, Mr. Wilson.
And goodbye.
Goodbye.
Goodbye and 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 Dodds.
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.
Heart attack.
That's it.
Higbee died of a heart attack.
I beg your pardon, sir.
Have you seen Mrs. Higbee?
The detective is looking for her.
How would I see her?
Am I everybody's guardian?
How can anybody get lost in this office?
Sorry, sir.
Mrs. Higbee.
Stop it, you fool.
Mrs. Higbee.
You howling idiot.
Can't you be looked for quietly?
You will 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?
I'm not a fool.
I'm a fool.
Aha, aha, the office communication.
It's off.
Oh, stop it, Mr. Wilson.
You'll go bombing.
You've committed the perfect crime.
Don't go crazy and spoil it.
No.
Perfection is instinctive with you, isn't it?
Yes, yes.
Not a plan did you make, spontaneous perfection.
Yes, yes.
There aren't many who do that.
Go on, go on, voices can't frighten me.
They deserve to die, and that's why they're dead.
Thou shalt not kill, Mr. Wilson.
Thou shalt not kill.
Not Igby.
I didn't kill him.
His heart stopped.
Do you hear me, that's all?
I didn't kill him.
Now you voices stop.
Do you hear me?
Stop it, I command.
Stop it.
Is something wrong, Mr. Wilson?
What do you mean is there's something wrong?
Do you hear them too?
Well, you mustn't listen.
They lie.
Do you hear me?
They lie.
Now get out, 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 them.
Only to me, only to me.
Well, what do you want?
Well, I don't know.
You think they'll say something bad about me, don't you?
So 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?
Yeah, 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, last night you wanted to know
all about last night, when you asked them,
but they won't tell you.
But the expression on that face, look at him, Lieutenant.
They were there, they saw me hit him,
but they won't say anything.
They were there, but they won't tell you a thing,
not one little word, not a single thing.
He's a gibbering idiot.
Because I'm not going to let him.
Oh, I shouldn't have let you monkey around.
We could have gotten it out of him some other way.
You and your psychology.
You know, you should leave that stuff in colleges.
All I did was plant Higbee in the office
and route Mrs. Dodds in here
and talked into the ventilating system.
Those voices had me creepy too.
Incidentally, Dodds was single.
Why?
That girl's my fiancee, she's an actress.
Well, for, why did you tell them Higbee was dead?
No, maybe you better not explain.
Psychology, huh?
Well, what are we going to do with the confession now?
We should have pinched him the moment he walked in here.
Maybe I'm lucky I never went to college.
There's no use you waiting here.
They won't tell you anything.
They're mine, all mine.
I tell them what to say.
All right, get the wagon up here.
I'm not going to walk this thing through the streets.
I won't say a word.
Henry Wilson, it's the judgment of this court
that you be sent to the Hillview Mental Home
and be kept there in close confinement until...
Ah.
On the voice went.
I had stopped listening to voices,
all but the ones that I couldn't help hearing.
But, but I'm not crazy.
I'm not crazy.
I tell people that and they look at me clearly.
The stupid fools.
The guards here have spread the lies 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.
Because it's then that I hear the voices.
I hear Dodds and his wife and Toby and little Mary.
And I sit quietly and I listen to them.
Do you think I can have a fit in front of them?
Do you now?
No, I'd be ashamed.
I tell you I'm not crazy.
And they lie when they tell you that they lie.
All of them, they lie.
They're the lies, lies, lies, lies, lies.
And so closes Statement of Employee Henry Wilson,
starring Gene Lockhart.
Tonight's tale of Suspense.
This is the man in black who conveys to you
Columbia's invitation to spend this half hour in suspense
with us again next week, same time,
when our two distinguished stars will be Margot and Philip Dawn.
They will appear in a suspense play by John Dixon Carr,
entitled Cabin B 13.
The producer and director of Suspense is William Spear,
who with Led Gluskin and Lucian Marowick,
conductor and composer, and John Shaw, the author,
collaborated on tonight's Suspense.
Suspense fans, please note that this program will shortly
move to a different day of the week.
Suspense will come to listeners in Eastern and Central time
zones on Thursdays beginning December 2nd,
and to Mountain and Pacific time zone listeners on Mondays
beginning December the 6th.
Now remember Thursdays beginning December the 2nd
in Eastern and Central time zones,
and Mondays beginning December 6th in the Pacific and Mountain
time zones for Suspense.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.