Now, Roma Wines, R-O-M-A.
Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
Roma Wines presents, Suspense.
Tonight, Roma Wines bring you Mr. Elliot Reed as star of Return Trip.
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 Elliot Reed, in a remarkable tale of Suspense.
Nurse?
Yes, there's someone to see you.
Yeah?
This is Superintendent Andrews of the state institution.
Oh, what, what do you got there?
I've set up a dictaphone out in the hall.
Careful of the wire, nurse, when you close the door, please.
The doctor said.
Yes, yes, I'll make it as brief as possible.
You may go now, nurse.
Very well.
Oh, do you mind if I hook up this microphone at the head of the bed?
Suit yourself, fella.
Well, it was a choice between a dictaphone and a stenographer, and I figured that in your condition...
I don't feel too bad.
Well, go on, ask your questions.
Now, I, I understand you were driving the bus.
Tell me what happened.
You mean I can tell it my own way?
That's right.
Great.
I had an uncle once, you know, that was a writer.
He wouldn't have gone near this kind of a story, though, with a ten-foot pen.
No, he went in for happy endings.
Uncle Mort wouldn't even have liked the beginning of this one.
Kind of dreary-like up there at the asylum that afternoon.
You remember, there'd been quite a snowfall the week before, and far as the eye could see,
everything was a dirty gray, like a corpse that's been waiting too long for the undertaker.
Well, around four o'clock it got so dark, the lights had to be turned on in the asylum.
And then the wind started moaning like a lonely banshee.
Fine day for a murder, as the fella said.
Well, there were three passengers sitting in the bus when I went outside for the return trip.
Two men and a woman.
Maybe I ought to call her a girl, because she wasn't really much more than that.
Anyway, these three passengers all had returned tickets,
and I went down the aisle collecting them.
Tickets, please.
Can I have your tickets, please?
Driver, driver, how soon do we start?
Right away, miss.
But we're two minutes late already, driver.
Oh, these little jerkwater bus lines never keep to their schedules.
Now we'll never get out of these mountains before that blizzard lets loose.
Can I have your ticket, please, mister?
You really think there'll be a storm?
Why, sure, sure, it can't fail.
And lady, when they have snow up in these godforsaken mountains.
Well, this morning on the bus coming up, a man was telling me.
Well, here we go, folks.
The windbag was sitting right across the aisle from the girl, second row from the front.
Halfway back in the bus sat the third passenger, all huddled up in his overcoat.
He didn't open his track.
Well, that was the picture as we swung out onto the highway for the return trip.
This guy in back of me seemed to be itchy to start a conversation with somebody as soon as we got rolling.
Well, might as well get acquainted, miss.
Fifty miles before we get down to civilization, you know.
John Willard is the name.
I said...
Oh, I beg your pardon.
Are you speaking to me?
Well, yes.
I'm afraid I was...
Yeah, sure, sure.
These visits to the asylum, they're always depressing, aren't they?
Well, this is my first time.
Oh, there's some friend.
My husband.
Husband?
Oh, well, now that's too bad.
I hope he...
Hey, what's that?
Some kind of siren.
Yeah, that's the asylum alarm, all right.
The driver? What...
One of the inmates must be playing hide and seek with the keepers.
Happens every once in a while.
Gosh, what if it's my brother?
Oh?
He the bustin' out kind?
Well, it kind of upsets him to see one of the family, but then if we don't come to see him, it upsets him even more.
And I see what you mean.
Do they... do they always catch them?
Well, they tell me the place has never lost a customer yet.
Oh, you know, a moment ago I...
I was praying that it wasn't Jim, but now I don't know.
Even if they had to...
Well, I mean, it would... it would be better than seeing him as he was today.
Any... anything would be better than...
Listen, listen.
Hey, that's a police siren.
Sounds like they're almost on top of us.
Yes, there they are. There they are.
Look out. Look out. They're gonna pass us.
Pass nothing. They're flagging me down.
All right. Just keep your seats, everybody.
They're guards.
With rifles.
Hey, we're...
We're looking for somebody.
Yeah, we heard the asylum alarm.
Is someone...
You know anyone along the road?
Not even a jackrab.
Officer, who escaped?
Greg. Albert Greg.
Oh.
What a relief.
Hey, Holly, take yourself a walk down the aisle and keep your rifle ready when you look behind those back seats.
Are you kidding?
When was this coming out party?
I don't know. Maybe as much as a couple hours ago.
Does this Greg have a gun?
Can't guarantee he hasn't.
But it was a file that sprung him.
A tiny steel file.
Must have been working away at the bar since the day he was committed a month ago.
His stay was short.
Nobody back here.
Okay, now check the gents for identification.
You know how it is, Robbie. You can't take chances.
Oh, of course not. Here's mine.
Huh?
Oh. Okay, Dlander.
Uh, your name, Frank Keniston?
You can read, can't you?
Ha!
Friendly cuss, ain't you?
You know, that's the first peep that passenger has let out.
I was beginning to think he was a deaf mutant.
Yeah?
Well, uh, here driver, you can have this stuff back.
Oh, thanks.
John Willard?
Yes, sir.
Okey-dokey.
Come on, Denton, let's scram.
We gotta find Greg before he finds anybody.
Yeah.
Hey, driver, you can turn around now and go back.
Go back?
Go back? Why?
Oh, no, no.
This Greg is a killer.
What I mean is when the mood strikes him, he strikes.
Well, what's that gotta do with us turning back?
Didn't I tell you this man kills even without reason?
Now he's got plenty of reason.
He's gotta get out of these mountains, but quick.
If he's down the road, there are lots of ways he could stop a bus.
I say turn back.
But that blizzard's liable to break any minute now.
We could be snowbound up here for days.
And if I have to spend another, even a night, one night in that asylum,
so help me, they'd have to keep me there.
Oh, listen driver, listen to me, please.
Just a second, Mr. Willard. You're just one passenger.
There are three.
Now let's take a vote.
What about you, Miss?
I'd... whatever you say.
Mr. Kinniston?
I say keep going.
That settles it.
Hurry up, Denton.
Wait a minute. What... what does this killer Greg look like?
Uh, what? The description says, uh, slight build, weighed about 140.
Uh, dark hair, brown eyes, 27 years old.
Denton, get the lead out of your britches.
Yeah, but you know, I still...
We warned him, didn't we?
Now if they meet up with him, it's their funeral.
Yeah.
Well, we can take care of ourselves, fellas.
Well, after the guards left, I really set that bus to rolling.
Out of the mirror, up above the driver's seat,
I could see that the girl was plenty scared.
But she had nerve, I'll say that for her.
When we slid around some of those snowbank curves,
her lips would be drawn so tight the lipstick had a white quarter.
But she didn't say boo.
Willard, the windbag across the aisle from her,
gave up trying to draw her into a conversation.
And as for the third passenger, that English guy, Kinniston,
sitting halfway towards the back there,
he kept acting like a clam afraid of losing its oyster.
Might as well have had a lockjaw, if you get what I mean.
Well, we hadn't gone more than another mile or two
before the wind started to rise,
and kept it up until you'd have thought all the devils in hell
were trying to break loose.
It got black as the inside of a tomb until the snow started to fall.
But with that wind whipping it around, it didn't exactly fall.
Mister, that's what I call a blizzard.
This is getting on my nerves.
What have we got here anyway? A collection of zombies?
Somebody say something!
I was just going to say...
You were going to say that the weather is rotten.
Yeah, and she can say that again.
But that isn't what I was going to say.
No? What then, lady?
It occurred to me why the guards asked for identification.
Huh?
The description of Killer Greg.
Slight build, 140 pounds, dark hair, brown eyes, 27 years old.
So what?
It's a remarkable thing.
That description would fit you, Mr. Willard.
Huh? Oh?
And Mr. Kiniston, too.
What's that? Me?
That's a peculiar thing.
Isn't it, driver?
Yeah. Come to think of it, both of them could fit that description.
And I've also heard that he's got a very soft face.
Almost like a woman.
What do you think, Mr. Kiniston?
I don't happen to feel like talking.
Yeah?
Well, personally, I think the more I think of what she said, the more remarkable it becomes.
Yeah, she's got something there.
Only remarkable isn't the word.
What do you mean, Mr. Willard?
This man, Greg, may be insane, but he's not dumb.
Now, put yourself in his place.
He knows he hasn't got a ghost of a chance making a getaway in the asylum clothing, see?
So he borrows the wardrobe and identification of some stranger.
Do you follow me?
We're way ahead of you, Willard.
It wouldn't be difficult for a killer.
I should say not. But that still isn't the end of his problem, see?
He's fighting against time.
Yes. He's got to get out of these godforsaken mountains down to civilization before they can throw a noose around the whole area.
And he knows, he knows, if he's brought back alive, he'll be wearing a straitjacket until he's old as Methuselah.
You've got quite an imagination, Willard.
Yeah? Well, thanks.
Now, the odds that Greg will be able to get himself transportation are mighty slim, except...
except for this bus line.
So let's suppose...
You've got a great imagination, all right.
You got it all figured out.
Bit too bad, if you ask me.
Remember, please, sir.
You're the one who was so dead set against turning back.
Really, Kinnison?
Well, I'll leave it to the lady here in the driver.
Do I act like a lunatic? Huh?
Well?
Search me.
There were times, long periods of time, when Jim didn't either.
My husband, I mean.
That was the terrible part of it.
He'd be... he'd be just like the old days, and we'd be so happy together, and then...
and then all of a sudden, just without warning, he...
Oh, I heard of lots of cases like that.
Well, they tell me that sometimes it takes half a dozen of those, uh...
special doctors, those, uh...
Psychiatrists?
Yeah, psychiatrists.
Yeah, well, sometimes they gotta put a person under a microscope and study them for a long time
before they can be sure, one way or the other.
And many's the time they make mistakes.
Well, I heard it one time when...
Shut up!
Nobody's gonna talk like that about me.
It's Kinnison that's been acting crazy,
and I'll bet it wouldn't take a half a dozen psychiatrists...
What's that?
An avalanche!
It's coming down!
No!
For suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you as star Elliot Reed in Return Trip, a radio
play by Maurice Zim.
Roma Wines presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Between the acts of suspense, this is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines.
Nowadays, renewing old friendships interrupted by the war is a popular American pastime.
For most of us, hardly a week goes by without some friend of pre-war vintage dropping in
to say hello.
Well, that's one of the reasons so many Americans keep Roma California Sherry on hand always.
For the gold and amber radiance and tempting nut-like richness of Roma Sherry capture the
very spirit of gracious hospitality.
And Roma Sherry does more than welcome guests.
Roma Sherry is the perfect first call to dinner.
The happy, mellow, moderate wine that suits your every entertaining need.
Like the other fine Roma California dessert wines, Roma Port, Roma Muscatel, and Roma
Toquet, Roma Sherry is a true wine from just the luscious goodness of the finest grapes.
Patiently guided to taste perfection by Roma winemaking skill and resources unmatched in
America.
That's why Roma is America's favorite wine.
Why more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wine.
So insist on Roma, R-O-M-A, Roma Wines, and enjoy unvarying goodness at reasonable cost
always.
And now, Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood soundstage, Elliot Reid, starring with Wally
Mayer as Mr. Willard, Kathy Lewis as the girl, and Raymond Lawrence as Mr. Keniston in Return
Trip, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Well, Superintendent, what do you think of the yarn so far?
Let's hear the rest of it.
Okay, okay.
If you'll help me get a swig of that water.
Sure.
The way they got me rigged up here.
Oh, thanks.
Let's see now, where was I?
Oh yeah, Acts 2, 3, and 4 coming up.
After the avalanche struck, I just sat there gripping the steering wheel, sort of stunned.
There wasn't a sound except for the wind.
And that was muffled by the snow barrier that packed us in.
Even on the far side, the bus was buried up to the middle of the windows.
Well, all this was only a matter of seconds, I suppose.
And then suddenly the quiet was broken by the most gosh-awful racket.
It was as if somebody had up and given the signal for my passengers to go completely nuts.
Get me out of here!
Look out!
Willard's got an axe!
The axe!
Take it away from him!
Let go of it, Willard!
Let go of that axe!
No!
That did it.
He's the one.
He's the one!
Lucky I saw him get that fire axe.
It's what the district attorney likes to call a lethal weapon.
And then some.
Step back, he's coming too.
Tie him up.
You'll find a rope in the dashboard compartment.
Get it for me.
Driver, I'll report you for this.
You will, huh?
I was going to smash a window so we could get out of here.
Oh, yeah?
Sure.
What did you think I...
Oh.
Oh, so that's it, huh?
Here's the rope, driver.
Look here.
Wait a minute, you can't do this, you can't tie me up, you fools.
I'm not killer Greg.
Maybe he isn't.
Maybe.
But like that guard said, we can't take chances.
If you're innocent, mister, you can prove it to the authority.
If we ever live that long, have you forgotten we're trapped here by an avalanche and a blizzard
that could go on and on and on?
Just the same...
This is ridiculous.
Hey, missy, you feeling all right?
No, I'm not crazy, driver.
But I guess I was a little.
Actually there's no proof that killer Greg is on this bus.
Well, if you put it that way...
It's all my fault and I'm sorry.
My only excuse is that I was just so upset by seeing Jim, my husband.
Well, I still say that...
No, no, no.
Now we've got to start acting like rational human beings.
Let poor Mr. Willard up from the floor.
Thanks, lady.
Well, all right.
But I'm warning you, Willard, no funny stuff.
Oh, snap out of it, driver, will you?
We've got to get out of this mess.
Hand me that axe.
Do I look that dumb?
Oh, all right, all right.
Then use it yourself.
Smash your window so we can crawl out.
Willard, even you don't look that dumb.
What makes you think the windows won't open?
Huh?
It's an open one.
What for?
To let in the blizzard?
But we've got to get out of here, driver.
Not me.
It would take a bear to make even a city block in that wind-swept hell.
We can't stay here.
Why not?
We're not freezing.
Yet.
The driver's right.
Our best chance is to sit pat until the storm lets up.
Yeah, but what if it doesn't, huh?
What if it lasts longer than we do?
What then, huh?
What then?
Shut up!
Blowing your top won't do any good, Willard.
Nobody's ever confused me with Pollyanna.
But things could be worse.
This is as good an igloo as any, and if and when the weather clears, well, we can send
out a party for help.
Or maybe a road clearing crew will come to our rescue.
Yes.
Yes, I suppose that's the same thing to do.
Wait here.
How about you, Willard?
You also decided to do the sane thing?
I don't like that crack you want more like it now.
Look, we're not starting that again.
Now, it's going to be a long night, and we might just as well make ourselves comfortable
and try to get some sleep.
Sleep.
Cut it out.
Now, Miss, you take the back seat.
It's the only one that runs the full width of the bus.
You can use your lap robe for a quilt.
All right, driver.
I want to apologize again to everyone for the way I behaved.
I'm casting suspicion.
Forget it.
Need any help?
No, no, thanks.
I just don't know what came over me starting that idiotic talk.
Please believe that I...
Why?
What's the matter?
Why are you staring at the floor?
Well, say something.
Look.
A file.
A tiny steel file.
The one that Greg...
The one that the avalanche hit, there was a mad scramble.
One of you lost it then.
One of you is Greg.
Killer Greg.
Let me out of here.
Oh, let me out of here.
Please let me out of here.
Oh, my God.
We've got to get out of here.
Well, we just let her wear herself out, kicking and banging on the door.
Nobody said a word.
Willard and Kinniston just stared at me and at each other.
By and by, the girl stopped her fussing, and then she stood and stared at the three of us
in rotation.
It would have made her flesh crawl.
Outside, the blizzard was getting worse, if possible.
Finally, I reached into the watch pocket of my pants and brought out the old timepiece.
What...
What time is it, driver?
I broke the crystal.
It still says a quarter of four.
It's...
It's five-thirty.
Only an hour and a half since we started out.
An hour and a half.
Five-thirty in the afternoon.
The very best, we're stuck until morning.
Fourteen.
Sixteen hours.
Might as well be forever.
Look, miss, we just got to make the best of it.
I still think you ought to go back to the rear seat.
Can't sleep?
If you can.
Willard, the driver and myself will be keeping a rather close eye on each other.
In the light of recent developments...
Developments?
You'll be all right.
Hey, driver, give me that axe.
Huh?
Let her have it for her protection.
Sure.
Sure, let her have it.
Yes.
Yes, give it to me.
Okay.
You holding on to the file, too?
Of course she is.
The file could also be a lethal weapon.
Well, she took the axe and the file back to the rear seat with her, and we all sat down
to wait.
Those were the longest seconds of the longest minutes of the longest hours that ever...
Well, somehow it got to be nine o'clock, ten, eleven.
Finally, it was midnight.
Ever fought against sleep with the cold numbing you and the wind lulling you?
Oftentimes, even the fear of sudden death can't win against those odds.
Time and again, the girl's eyes would close just for a second, and then they stayed closed
longer, and her head nodded and her body slumped over against the corner of the seat.
I got up and started down the aisle.
Where you going?
Shh, Keniston.
Can't you see she's asleep?
Where are you going?
Her lap robe slipped to the floor.
I was going to pick it up and cover her so she wouldn't freeze.
Any objections?
I'll do it.
Oh, no, you won't.
Go ahead, driver.
See, Keniston?
Willard thinks I should do it.
That makes it two to one.
Help me!
Help me with this wild cat!
Get that file away from her before she jabs my eyes out!
She was like a devil on a pinwheel, and I was lucky to tear loose before she did any more
damage to me.
Afterwards, when Willard told her what I was up to, she apologized.
But I didn't go near her again all the rest of that night.
Well, about five o'clock the blizzard stopped, and at seven the sun managed to break through.
Then we held a council of war.
We can't send out for help.
Why not?
Don't you see, Mr. Willard?
If we split up the men, whichever of you is Greg would have too good an opportunity,
whether he goes or stays.
You could go alone.
I'd never make it.
We could all go together.
How about that driver?
Well, no, I'd rather stick with a bus, Keniston.
But before we decide anything, let's get out and look around.
We got a window open on the far side of the bus and crawled through, the girl first.
She was still clutching the axe and the file.
Here!
Come here and look!
What?
We've been through the doors and we've escaped the avalanche entirely.
We can shovel our way out.
I'm sure we can.
There were two shovels in the tool compartment at the tail guard of the bus.
That only let two men shovel at a time, and the third man getting a breather meanwhile.
It took a lot of shoveling.
Was some head of dirt?
Hurt your hand?
No, nothing much.
This feels good to take off those stiff leather gloves.
Nasty blisters you got on that right hand.
Something...
Hey, Keniston, are you shoveling or talking?
We'll never get out of here at this rate.
It's your turn anyway.
I'm tired.
Not as tired as Willard looks.
I'll relieve him.
No, no, that's all right.
I can keep going yet for a while.
Okay then, Keniston, here.
Let me take a turn.
I know I won't be of much help, but I can at least try.
No, no, no, you're mountain guard.
Though I'm sure you could do as well as Keniston.
Keniston.
Where's Keniston?
Why, he's right...
Stop him!
Keniston was making a mad dash through the snow.
Willard dropped his shovel and tore after him.
I yelled for Willard to let him go, but I don't think he even heard me.
For a while it looked like Keniston was going to make it.
But then he floundered and fell in a snow drift.
And before he could get underway again, Willard knifed him.
Oh, no!
Well, he'll stay put for a while.
What'd you do, knock him out?
Well, what else was there to do?
Is he...
I know all the time it was Keniston.
You think his running away proves it?
It's the same as if he confessed.
He knew it was his last and only chance.
What are we going to do with him now?
Tie him up.
Then we're getting him on the bus out of here.
Say, I wonder if there's a reward.
In no time at all we had the bus clear and headed for civilization.
Those snow-covered mountain roads weren't exactly my idea of a speedway,
but I gave my motor the gun.
Willard and the girl didn't take their eyes off Keniston.
I kept watching him too, out of the mirror, over the driver's seat.
He looks like he's coming too.
Don't worry, driver.
Those knots I made in the rope won't give.
Besides, I'm keeping the axe handy, just in case.
He's opening his eyes.
Watch him now. Watch him.
Yes, watch me. And listen to me too.
Shut up, Keniston.
I'll stop this bus and put you out for good.
Not before I've had my say.
Willard and you too, lady.
Why do you think I tried to make a break for it?
Because you were...
You're killer Greg.
You fools!
You blind, stupid fools!
Was it my watch that had his crystal smashed at a quarter to four yesterday afternoon?
So it was mine. So what?
At a quarter to four yesterday afternoon,
killer Greg waylaid the real driver of this bus and took his place.
That's how the crystal came to be broken.
Shut up, Keniston. You can't talk your way out of this.
It could be a coincidence.
Sure, sure.
That's what I thought too. Coincidence.
Until I noticed the blisters on the thumb and first two fingers of the right hand.
A file would make blisters like that.
A file held in the right hand of killer Greg.
Look at him! Look at him! It's true!
Greg! Greg!
Don't come a step closer, any of you.
You make the slightest moving off crash the whole lot of us.
Don't do it, Greg. Stop the bus.
We won't do anything.
It was a perfect plan. It had to work.
If only that avalanche hadn't come along.
But I'll still make it.
I'll make it even if I have to.
Look out, Keniston!
No! No!
It rolled over and over and over and over.
The bus and the glass all smashed.
Everybody was all mangled and...
All right, all right. Go to sleep now.
Sleep? Who can go to sleep?
Who can go to sleep?
Anyway, I outlived those three.
Killer Greg.
Suspense.
Presented by Roma Wines.
R-O-M-A.
Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
This is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines.
These days are hard to get meat and butter.
But it's a good time to get some fresh air.
And it's a good time to get some fresh air.
When you get meat and butter, offer a real challenge to the American housewife who takes pride in her meals.
That's why so many smart women serve Roma California Burgundy with dinner.
They know that even the simplest meals taste better, becomes more enjoyable,
when served with a fine, robust Roma Burgundy.
Discover for yourself the satisfying taste harmony of Roma Burgundy with food.
The next time you serve a savory pot roast,
oven-browned meatloaf, or a piping hot dish of spaghetti,
heat with a spicy sauce.
Bring out all its flavorful goodness with a bottle of red Roma Burgundy.
Or, if you prefer a lighter wine,
let Roma California Claret, or famous Roma Zinfandel,
add magic taste and friendliness to your next meal.
Remember, Roma, America's favorite wine, costs no more than ordinary wines.
So insist on Roma, R-O-M-A, America's first choice in wine.
Elliot Reid appeared to the courtesy of Paramount Pictures, producers of To Each His Own.
Next Thursday, same time, Roma Wines will bring you Mr. Leon Ames,
as star of Suspense, radio's outstanding theater of thrills.
Produced by William Spear for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.