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 theater 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 glass full would be very pleasant as Roma Wines bring you Nancy Kelly
in a remarkable tale of...
Suspense!
I was married in 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 Eighth 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 in disgrace and in trouble so, 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's 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
goodbye that morning.
I nearly fell running up those narrow little steps.
I stumbled a half a dozen times before I reached the third floor, apartment 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 sobbed with joy and relief.
Harry!
Yes, what is it dearie?
But it wasn't Harry.
It's 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.
Well?
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.
Oh, but you don't understand.
I'm...
Looking for somebody?
What apartment did you want?
This is 3B.
3B?
Yeah.
What apartment are you looking for?
Oh, but I'm not.
I...
I won't be much help anyhow.
Better ask down the hall.
We only been living here a few days.
Living here?
Yes.
Oh, 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 are they sopping wet?
Well, the rain.
I got caught in the rain.
What are you talking about isn't raining?
Oh, but you're wrong.
It is raining.
I just...
Listen here, young woman.
What kind of a game do you think you're playing?
But are you sure?
Well, I ran.
I ran all the way because there was thunder and lightning.
We had a storm a week ago, but it ain't rained like that since Wednesday.
Wednesday?
A week ago?
Oh, no.
No.
Here, here.
Don't do that.
You sit down there, dearie, and I'll get some water.
Don't move now.
And supper not ready and company coming.
I sat on the sofa.
Harry and I had talked just last night about having the spring in 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.
So 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 Warnspot in it and the fireplace and the mantle.
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?
Oh, much.
Thank you.
I want me to call a cab for you.
Where do you live, dearie?
Why, I...
You were looking for someone when you come.
Friends of yours?
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?
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 an apartment's an apartment these days.
Foolish, isn't it?
Being squeamish about those things.
But I said to him, Charlie, it's to be considered safe.
So what if there was a murder here?
We 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 they've seen so much in love.
And she was so young this age.
What?
Did you know them well?
I...
Oh, yes.
Yes, very well.
Must be a shock to you.
Can't understand why...
Is it in that paper?
May I see it?
Sure.
Been full of nothing else for almost a week.
She was right.
Ice pick, murderer, awaits conviction.
The headlines 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
pieced themselves together to form the words
killer, bloody, motive.
And then they jumped across the page.
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.
Better sit down again, dearie.
No, no, let me alone.
Oh, I'm all right.
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...
I 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.
Toot, toot, I'm a fireman.
Watch out, I'm a fireman.
Toot, toot.
I was 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.
Watch out, lady.
Hey, lady, watch out.
He toppled over and fell in a pathetic little heap on the ground.
His knee was bleeding.
I ran over to pick him up.
Oh, my knee.
It hurts.
Oh, my knee.
Help me up, will you?
I'd bend over and my arms outstretched
to lift him to his feet again.
And then I remembered...
I was dead.
I'd been murdered by my husband almost a week ago.
I was dead.
Help me up, lady.
Will you?
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.
I ran faster and faster till I couldn't hear him anymore.
Then it was later somehow and really dark.
And I was so tired.
Help me up, lady.
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.
It 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 and I'll be back in my own bed again.
I'll reach out 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 or what I was going to do.
I tried not to think of Harry, where he was, now.
Moore! Moore, darling! Are you all right?
Harry. Harry, you!
Oh, 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.
Here's a 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 fireman! Watch out!
Toot, toot! I'm a fireman!
For suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you a star, Miss Nancy Kelly,
in A Week Ago Wednesday by Winifred Wolf.
Roma Wines presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Music
Between the acts of suspense, this is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines.
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That's Roma, R-O-M-A, Roma Wines.
And now Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood Soundstage
Miss Nancy Kelly as Maude Haskin in A Week Ago Wednesday,
a play well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Yeah, 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 3 o'clock in the morning, but I couldn't eat.
Dirty dishes still in the sink.
Never mind, I'll wash them.
Come on. Darling?
Yes?
Come here, will you?
Why are you standing near the mantel? Why don't you come over to me?
Huh? Oh, I was looking 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 the tiny pulse in my throat beating quick and sharp as 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, sweet, don't. Please don't. You're home now.
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 to drop.
Why, don't worry about it.
I'll get the broom, sweep it up.
Maud.
Yes?
Don't bother about it now. Come here to me, will you?
No.
What?
I, 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.
Maud, don't go into work today. Stay home and rest. You don't look well.
Oh, but I am. I, 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. His lips moved with honeyed words, but...
the want was on his mind.
I love you.
Do you?
Well, don't you know I do?
Of course. Of course I do.
You'll be home right after work?
I... yes.
Maybe we'll go to a movie or something. Would you like that?
We'll see.
All right. We'll see.
He walked me to the Eighth Avenue subway like he always did.
And when he kissed me goodbye, 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!
Fry two, looking at the moon, wheat down.
What'll it be, lady?
Ham on rye, coffee.
Coming. 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 Maude Haskin.
When there was nothing in it about a nice pick murder and Harry's picture...
I began to feel a little foolish.
Hey, old lady, ham on rye, jab on its way.
I'd fallen asleep on a park bench and I'd had a dream.
That was all just a nightmare.
Afraid? Afraid of Harry?
Well, 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. Four, four-thirty, four-thirty-five.
I wanted to get home and tell him I was all right. I was all right now.
Four-forty-five, four-fifty, five o'clock.
This time I knew I wasn't dreaming.
This time I could run, run fast all the way from the subway to sixty-ninth and down and home.
And Harry would be there.
Down sixty-ninth 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 brums.
Do you know where I can find the landlady?
What? What did you say?
You live here, dearie?
Yes, yes, I...
Well, 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 me husband's been looking for weeks. What a job.
You know if anybody's planning to move out, dearie? Soon, maybe.
Say, where are you going? Say.
Well, can you beat that?
That woman in my dream who'd been living in our apartment.
What was she doing here? Maybe it had been more than a dream.
Maybe 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, that you?
Yes. Yes, Harry.
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.
Oh, Maude, 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. It...
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.
Maude! What is it? What's the matter?
I... I...
Nothing. Nothing.
What are you doing?
Why did you come in? This was gonna 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. You spoiled it.
I'm sorry.
I didn't mean it. Doesn't matter.
Nothing matters as long as you're here.
He put the ice pick beside the bowl and he took me in his arm.
And all the time he kept telling me he loved me, I was looking fascinated at the ice pick, thin and sharp.
The ice pick. Spoiler surprise.
Yes. Yes, I'd spoil it.
He thought he was gonna kill me, but I wasn't gonna let him.
I wasn't gonna 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 gonna let him do it.
I reached out and I felt my fingers creep around the handle of the ice pick.
I was strong and safe now.
That dream wasn't gonna 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 and the ice pick half disappeared into him.
Maura. Maura, I...
His arms still around me grew limp.
I felt them slide heavily, big hands dragging at 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 ice pick.
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 then I've just killed my husband and left him lying dead on the kitchen linoleum.
But I knew. And somehow I didn't care.
All I kept thinking was, not me. Not me. It wasn't me lying dead with an ice pick 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.
In the morning, I remembered when 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.
As big and bold as life or death it mocked me.
Ice pick murder and 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.
Harry loved me.
I tried to run away from a dream. Just a dream.
But instead I made him live and now Harry was dead.
I wanted to tell you how it was, Father, because it's so hard to believe it happened to me.
Pray for me. I know now what wrong I've done.
But the dream has come true. It's Wednesday again, isn't it, Father?
Maude Haskin in a prison cell because I killed my husband.
I had to tell someone, Father.
Will you pray for me?
The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.
A week ago Wednesday.
I wonder if she's still there. The woman with eyes like two shiny brown buttons reading about us in the paper.
I wonder if she's there now.
The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. 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 pleasureful, famed hostess Elsa Maxwell makes this suggestion.
Serve guests a wine that adds warmth to the welcome.
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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 thrills.
Presented by Roma Wines, R-O-M-A. Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
R-O-M-A.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
R-O-M-A.