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 Anne Baxter in Always Room at the Top,
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 better tasting California wines enjoyed by more Americans than any other wine,
for friendly entertaining, for delightful dining.
Yes, right now, a glass full would be very pleasant, as Roma wines bring you Anne Baxter in a remarkable tale of...
Suspense!
Reception. Yes, she is, Miss Thornton. Very well, Miss Thornton, I'll have her come in.
Miss Brands?
Yes?
Miss Thornton will see you now, large corner office at the end of the hall.
Thank you.
Jean Thornton was a tall, square-shouldered blonde with high cheekbones and a good figure, and nervous as a cat.
More than that, I hadn't been in her office five minutes before I knew that she was afraid of something.
Her boss, the responsibilities of her job, something.
I couldn't understand it. She was art director of William J. Farrell & Company, one of the best advertising agencies in town.
She had everything I wanted, professionally and a couple of other ways.
And yet she was afraid. I couldn't understand it. Then?
Yes, yes, he's quite good. Quite good, Miss...
Brandt. Helen Brandt.
Yes, Miss Brandt. Quite good. But, um, cigarette.
Thanks.
Oh, how cute.
Silly thing. Mr. Farrell sent it to me from Mexico.
Where else in the world would anybody have the patience to sit down and put together a musical cigarette case?
But, as I was saying...
What was I saying?
Oh, oh, yes. Oh, yes, these are really very good layouts, Miss Brandt. I like them.
But I don't quite see how we can use you just now.
You said that before, Miss Thornton.
Yes, so I did well.
Look, Miss Thornton, I don't need the job.
I'm not one of those desperate people that's coming to cry on your shoulder.
I have a job at Maxfield & Ellis, but they're stupid there. I'm not getting any place.
In a firm like this, where people have imagination, you have a chance. That's all I want, a chance.
So do a lot of other people, Miss Brandt.
Well, I'm not a lot of other people. I think I've got ability, and you know it. Commercial ability. I think I could be professional.
Yes, yes. Well, if there's an opening, you'll get in touch with me.
You'll get in touch. I know what that means. I've been given the brush off by X-ray.
That will be all, Miss Brandt.
But I'm sick of being brushed off. I've got ability. As much as you have and maybe more, and I'll show you.
Miss Brandt, will you leave my office, or shall I have you thrown out?
All right, Miss Brandt. Good day.
Of course, that would be the last time I'd ever lay eyes on Gene Thornton. That's what I thought.
I went back to my office and worked most of the night catching up on my own stuff, doing a little extra that I was peddling around town.
I was standing on the sidewalk, kidding with a night elevator man, while I waited for a cab, and looking up at the tower against the early morning sky.
That dark tower, 36 floors above the street, and three blocks up the avenue where the William J. Farrell Agency had their offices, and where I'd have given my right arm to be working.
You'll miss all your beauty sleep working this late, Miss Brandt.
Now, Charlie, who says I need beauty sleep?
Oh, you don't.
I like to work at night. It's quiet. Think of all the sunrises I see. Look at that sky.
Yeah, it's gonna be a nice day I get. Look!
I saw the bodies falling and the scream came to us at the same moment. We stood there frozen, horrified, fascinated.
Oh, Lord, I wish I hadn't seen that.
Charlie, that was someone from the Farrell Agency.
Whoever it was, poor devil.
A woman.
Oh, wait, Miss Brandt. I wouldn't go up there. Miss Brandt!
Even by the time I got there, a patrol car appeared out of nowhere, the way they will in this town.
An unusual crowd of early birds and night owls standing around gawking. They were trying to cover it up with a blanket.
All right, stand back. Stand back.
Who is it?
Oh, you couldn't tell anyway.
A woman.
I wanted to look, but I couldn't. A cop was picking up stuff that had rolled out of a handbag into the street, going through it methodically, opening things up.
And then I heard it, and I didn't have to look. I knew.
No, please! I tell you, I don't know when Mr. Farrell's coming in. I don't know.
You wouldn't try to kid the press, would you, sister?
You might as well tell us, because we'll just sit here anyway.
Hey, there he is!
Mr. Farrell, Mr. Farrell, I'm from the news. I'd like to know if I could get a...
Please, please, boys, please. I can't tell you anything now.
Mr. Farrell, I'm Helen Brandt.
Mr. Farrell, my people would like to know if Ms. Thornton had been a respondent.
Get your foot out of that door now, please. Please, get out of here already. Get out!
I told you I can't talk to any reporters. Now give me a few minutes.
I'm not a reporter, Mr. Farrell. I'm Helen Brandt. I'm art director of a small advertising agency, but I've got some samples here and...
What?
Mr. Farrell, please, just look at these. You're going to have to have a new art director.
What did you say?
Sure, you're shocked. But it can't hurt her. And I've been trying to see you for months, and now you're on a spot, and if you just make...
Take those things out of my face and get out of here.
Just look at them, sir. That's all I ask.
All I ask is that you...
Well...
And this one, for Parker's Shoes. I've followed Ms. Thornton's general ideas, but I've added... well, that.
Mm-hmm.
They're good enough, Mr. Farrell. And if you say they aren't...
All right. All right, they're good. They're very good. But if you think I'd hire a woman who hasn't any more decency than to barge in here at a time like this and try to push...
Decency? What decency got to do with it? Do you need an art director or a Sunday school teacher?
Look, Mr. Farrell, now if you don't mind, my people want to know what Ms. Thornton was doing in her office at 5 o'clock this morning.
She must have been working all night on the new Parker layouts. They have to be out by...
They have to be out by 3 this afternoon.
Working all night, maybe went in the window for fresh air, tired, got dizzy, and...
Look, Ms. um...
Brant. Helen Brant.
Uh, Ms. Brant. Ms. Brant, I think you're one of the most despicable women I've ever had the misfortune to meet.
But I've got a very big job to get out this afternoon. My assistant art director's home sick, and by the time I interview these...
Thanks, Mr. Farrell.
You can arrange the details with my secretary in there. And frankly, the less I have to do with you myself, the better I'll like it.
I think you'll change your mind about that, Mr. Farrell.
No, Mr. Farrell, if you don't mind, we know things are tough and you don't want to tell us, but...
Yes?
Are you, uh...
Mr. Farrell's secretary, yes.
Oh. Well, I'm Helen Brant.
Marie Harris. How do you do?
How do you do? I'm taking Ms. Thornton's place.
Taking Ms. Thornton's place, I see.
Yes. Temporarily.
Well, you're not one to let the grass grow under your feet, are you, my dear?
Mr. Farrell said I could arrange the details with you.
To be sure. I expect you'd better make out one of our regular employment forms.
Oh, thank you.
Temporarily, you said.
Yes.
Still, doesn't it feel a bit odd to be filling a dead woman's shoes that are hardly cold, so to speak?
I don't see anything so odd about it, Ms. Harris.
Somebody would have to.
No, of course you wouldn't.
By previous experience, does it mean just in the advertising business?
Any experience that might be applicable.
It has occurred to you, I suppose, Ms. Brant, that when someone like Ms. Thornton is cut off in mid-career, so to speak, there's usually a reason for it.
They say it was an accident.
An accident, do they?
Oh, will this be all right, Ms. Harris?
Yes. Yes, that will do.
Of course, there's always the possibility of suicide. I suppose you've thought of that.
I suppose it might have been.
Will you show me my office, please?
Certainly, this way.
You might as well have the dead woman's, that is, Ms. Thornton's office.
And of course, there is another possibility, isn't there?
What other possibility?
The possibility of murder.
Murder?
Why, yes.
Here's your office, Ms. Brant. If you need anything, just call me.
I want to make you as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.
For Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you Ann Baxter in, always Rome at the top.
Roma Wines presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Between the acts of Suspense, this is Ken Niles for Roma Wines.
Next time you buy wine, remember, more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wine.
Yes, Roma wine is America's first choice because there's an important difference in Roma wine.
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So for your best buy in good taste, insist on Roma Wine, R-O-M-A. Roma, the greatest name in wine.
And now, Roma wines bring back to our Hollywood sound stage, Anne Baxter as Helen Brant,
with Kathy Lewis as Marie, and Wally Mayer as Bill Farrell, in Always Room at the Top.
A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
I'd met Marie Harris's type before, jealous of her authority as the boss's secretary,
resentful of every newcomer and determined to make them uncomfortable.
So it was only natural for her to resent someone like myself, a total stranger who walked into the job of art director
for one of the best advertising outfits in town, the William J. Farrell Agency.
And even though Mr. Farrell had said, temporary, I knew that I had the job.
I knew it before the first campaign was over. I was in.
And then, one night, the first of those funny little things began to happen.
I was just taking off my hat and coat when I saw it there on my desk.
A picture, a big framed picture of a dead girl, Jean Thornton.
And written across the face of it, it said,
Bill, darling, to the swellest guy and the swellest boss any girl ever had.
Admiring your predecessor, Miss Brant?
Where did that come from?
I'm sure I haven't fainted, I do.
It wasn't there when I left last night. Somebody put it there.
Possibly some well-wisher, Miss Brant, some sincere well-wisher.
It's a sort of warning.
A warning of what? What are you driving at?
Miss Thornton and Mr. Farrell were quite close. At one time, they...
And what's that got to do with me?
You know what happened, Miss Brant, to Miss Thornton.
Look, Marie, are you hinting that female art directors in this office
have a habit of falling for the boss and then falling out the window?
I'm not hinting anything, Miss Brant.
You asked me for an explanation of how the picture got there.
I've given you one.
Doubtless it is far-fetched. Certainly it must seem so to you.
It's crazy.
Of course. Will that be all, Miss Brant?
Listen, Marie, let's you and I cut out the formality and let down our hair.
Is there anything around here that I... well, ought to know?
I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Miss Brant.
All right. The girl who used to have my job is dead.
You've been hitting around enough about it.
Is there anything that you know that I don't?
Now, is that plain enough?
Quite. I can only say that I have not hinted at anything.
I have perhaps engaged in certain idle speculations on matters
which were better left as they are. That's all.
Okay, Marie, but the way things look now,
I'm liable to be around here for quite a while.
Oh, I should think it likely.
And you and I ought to learn to get along.
You'll have no trouble getting along with me, Miss Brant.
But you mean I may with... him?
I can only say, Miss Brant, as your sincere friend...
And well-wisher?
Yes. That you're working for a man
who's subject to singularly strong enthusiasms.
Sometimes these enthusiasms are apt to be carried to extremes.
It is essential to appreciate this in dealing with Mr. Farrell.
I don't suppose this picture gag would be one of Mr. Farrell's little enthusiasms.
Under the circumstances, I should think it most unlikely.
And it wouldn't be one of yours, my little well-wisher.
No, Miss Brant, it would not.
You couldn't help but believe her. She was so prim and proper.
But I was determined to have a showdown anyway on the whole thing.
My job and everything.
I stalked into Bill Farrell's office with a picture in my hand
and without benefit of knocking.
Oh, hello, Helen. Come in.
Something that appears to be from your desk seems to have popped up on mine.
Here.
Where did you get that?
I just told you. On my desk.
Your ever tactful Marie has suggested that some well-wisher left it as a warning.
Poor Jean. She gave me that when...
That explanation still seems to leave several questions unanswered.
Look, Helen, you'll hear a lot of funny things in this office, like any other office.
But take my word for it, they don't mean a thing.
Just do your job the way you've been doing it and you'll be all right.
How right is that?
You like the job, don't you?
I like the work. I haven't got the job.
Do you want it?
What do you think?
Well, you've certainly earned it, Helen.
Will you stop beating around the bush?
Am I the new art director of the William J. Farrell Agency or not?
All right, you are.
You are hereby officially the new art director of the William J. Farrell Agency.
From this day forward until...
Until what?
As long as you want the job, Helen.
Until death do us part is what he'd started to say.
I forgot it, Bill. I forgot it almost the moment he said it.
For the next 24 hours I was walking on air.
It wasn't just the job. It was something even better.
I knew Bill Farrell was falling in love with me.
I knew that was just a matter of time, too.
Morning, Marie. Is Mr. Farrell in?
Not yet, Miss Brandt.
I wish you wouldn't be so formal with me, Marie.
Everybody calls everybody else by their first names around here except you.
I am used to more conventional methods in most things, Miss Brandt.
Okay, okay. Let me know when he comes in, though, will you? I want to see him.
Miss Brandt.
Hello, Bill, darling. You here?
Yes, it is the thing you sent me from Mexico.
I got it just this morning, Ellie.
And so I wanted to tell you how sweet it was.
And thank you this way.
Marie! Marie! Marie!
Yes, Miss Brandt.
Marie, I just heard her voice.
Whose voice, Miss Brandt?
Hers. Jean's. Miss Thornton's.
Why don't you lie down on the couch for a moment, Miss Brandt?
You've been working too hard lately, and I'll get you some water.
No, I tell you, I heard it right in this room.
In this room?
Yes, I know. It was because there was that music box, too. That cigarette case of hers.
Oh, yes, yes. I remember.
So do I. Because the last time I heard it was down there when they were picking up the things.
There's no one here now, Miss Brandt. No one but you and me.
I know, but I heard it.
Was she...was it speaking to you, this voice?
No, the bill for Mr. Fowl. Something personal.
Oh, I dare say.
Have you ever looked in this closet by the door, Miss Brandt?
Well, not especially, no.
I think there's probably a perfectly logical explanation of what you heard, Miss Brandt.
Yes, yes, you see?
Oh.
A dictograph. It used to be Miss Thornton's.
They use dictographs for everything in this office.
They say it saves them $40,000 a year in stenographic help.
I see.
Something must have turned it on.
Yes, there, you see? This box of pencils that had fallen off the shelf. It must have been that.
What turned it off, Marie?
I'm sure I don't know. It's quite simple, isn't it?
Here's the switch.
Hello, Bill, darling.
Stop it. Stop it.
Yes, Miss Brandt.
And now get it out of here.
Certainly, Miss Brandt. Is there any particular...
I don't care what you do with it. Do anything you like. Throw it out the window.
What was that, Miss Brandt?
Just get it out of here.
And leave me alone.
It's silly I know that.
It could have happened that way. It must have.
Just as Marie said.
But all the time in the back of my mind was a lurking horror.
A nameless thing that I felt hanging over that office.
And over me.
Something about a girl who was dead.
A girl who had plunged to her death from that same dark tower that was now my dark tower.
Plunged screaming to her death only a few short weeks ago.
The next night, I had to work late again to make up.
I'd been out to supper alone.
I was conscious of the light still burning in Bill's office when I got back.
I wasn't particularly anxious to see him just then.
The truthful I was avoiding him, I suppose.
I'd been in my office about an hour and a half.
When the phone rang, I thought it was strange.
Because I was certain that I'd asked to have my night line disconnected.
Out of habit, I picked it up to answer.
Hello, Bill?
Bill, is that you?
Bill!
Bill! Bill!
What, Helen? What is it?
Oh, Bill!
Helen, darling. Tell me.
Baby, baby, what is it? What's happened?
I heard her. Again.
Heard who, dear?
Jean. Jean Thornton.
Jean?
Yes. On the telephone. I know it was. I swear it.
But, darling, it couldn't have been.
Oh, Bill, I think I'm going mad.
Oh, Helen, darling, listen to me.
Picture, the dictograph. All right. But this...
Helen, Helen, look at me.
Yes, Bill.
I love you, Helen. You know that, don't you?
Yes. Oh, yes, darling, I do.
I'm afraid.
But there's nothing to be afraid of, darling.
No, not that.
I'm afraid because now I know that you're afraid.
I am?
Yes. You are, aren't you?
Helen, I...
Bill, please. You've got to tell me now.
Look, darling, I'm in a jam. A bad jam, an awful bad jam.
Yes, it must be.
But it's nothing that you have to worry about.
It's nothing that isn't going to straighten itself out.
It's nothing that I'm going to let affect us ever.
Bill, if it affects you, it does affect us.
Darling, darling, you've got to trust me just a little longer.
Bill, I do. I will. But it's about Jean, isn't it?
Yes. Yes, it's about Jean.
And it was. She didn't just fall.
It was a terrible thing, Helen. Terrible.
About as terrible as it could be. But Helen, just remember this, darling.
There's nothing to be afraid of. It'll all be over soon. Very soon.
Is that all? All you can tell me?
It's all I can tell you now.
Oh, darling, I know what this is like for you.
But please, please go home now and forget all about it.
How can I forget about it?
Well, try. Try anyway.
I've got some things to finish up here, and then I'll call for you,
and we'll start making our plans.
Oh, you will marry me, won't you, Helen?
Oh, Bill, yes.
Then everything's all right.
Go on now, go on.
All right.
Good night for now, my dearest.
Good night.
I went out. I didn't go home. I couldn't.
I walked, walked for miles trying to think.
But nothing made any sense, except that I was in love
and in an agony of fear for what might happen to Spoiler.
And suddenly I realized that I had to know everything,
now, tonight, whatever it was.
So I went back to the office.
Bill's light was still on, and I was just at the door when I stopped.
You're insane, you're insane crazy.
Suppose somebody saw you and recognized you.
You sent me a message. You sent me a message.
I did not. I gave no message to no one.
Why did you lie to me like that?
I'm not lying to you.
Bill, I heard it.
I threw open the door, and she was standing there.
Gene, Gene Thornton, a woman who was dead.
My ten-two was lying on the couch in Bill's office.
At first it seemed perfectly natural,
lying there and Bill sitting beside me,
holding my hand, and her there, Gene,
standing over by the desk talking to him.
Well, what are you going to do about her?
Do? What do you mean do?
Well, you're going to have to do something she knows, doesn't you,
or she will when she snaps out of it.
I'm not going to do anything.
I suppose you're in love with her.
What if I am?
Because it makes a difference, my sweet, to me.
Bill?
Oh, darling, darling, it's all right.
Is she, is she really?
Yes, yes, it's Gene.
But I saw her that morning. I saw her lying.
That's what you were supposed to think.
Then who?
Just a girl.
Well, you might as well tell her.
At least then she'll be in it as deep as the rest of us.
Gene, please.
Your boyfriend there had been dipping into the till
about a quarter of a million dollars' worth of the client's money.
My insurance and what the company had me insured for
were just about enough to cover it.
Like a fool, I agreed to it.
You suggested it.
I thought he was in love with me then.
But there was a girl.
A girl who worked in the office.
No friends, no family.
I fired her the day before, then got her to come up here that night.
Another chance.
Modeling, I said, was my clothes.
Cigarette case.
I dug up another one.
I knew people would remember that.
Bill.
I told you it was bad.
Oh, darling, I don't care.
I don't care what it was.
As long as...
I think you'd better let me take charge of things now, Mr. Ferrell.
Marie.
Please don't move.
I'm quite prepared to shoot if I have to.
Marie, this is insane.
Is it?
The shakedown.
What do you want, Marie?
Quite a lot, I'm afraid, Mr. Ferrell.
How do you expect to get it?
It's your word against ours, three of us.
You forget, Miss Thornton, that you are legally dead.
As for the rest, do you remember, Miss Brant,
that I said we used dictographs for practically everything in this office?
It was you that...
I tried my best to warn you, Miss Brant.
I'm truly sorry for you.
Listen.
You might as well tell her.
At least then she'll be in as deep as the rest of it.
Jean, please.
Your boyfriend there has been dipping into the till.
About a quarter of a million dollars' worth of the client's money.
My insurance.
There is more, of course, but I'm sure that will suffice.
Now, Miss Thornton, I think you and I had better have a little talk alone.
What do you want us to do, Marie?
I'll come to you later, Mr. Ferrell.
For the moment, I must ask you to step into the conference room behind you.
You too, Miss Brant.
Marie.
Please, Mr. Ferrell, not now.
I shall have to lock you in, but it will not be for long, I think.
You know, of course, that there's no other way out...
except down.
We stood there huddled together by the locked door,
but we could hear nothing.
Till there was a sound like a window being opened, and then...
Oh, please!
Ah!
Marie!
Take them out now.
What have you done to her?
Miss Thornton has, shall we say, taken the easy way out.
You mean you forced her?
Very well, if you prefer.
I'm sure it can make little difference now.
You, Miss Brant, I take it, are in love with Mr. Ferrell,
in spite of my warnings.
Yes.
And I'm sure I can count on your silence,
knowing the results to Mr. Ferrell, if you were to break it.
Yes, yes, anything.
But I'm afraid your marital plans will have to wait.
What do you mean?
I think it's best this way, for my own protection.
Of course, if anything were to happen to Mr. Ferrell,
this way, everything would come to me.
What would? How?
The firm and the money.
You see, Miss Brant, Mr. Ferrell is going to marry me.
I looked at Bill.
I knew he'd do as she said.
What else?
I turned and left the room without speaking.
In my own office, I found a little automatic,
where lately I'd always kept it.
When I came back, Bill was staring out the window,
and Marie was making up her face from a little compact.
They didn't even glance in my direction.
Ah!
I'm waiting for the police.
I've been looking over the new layout.
The Dosset Soap campaign is particularly good.
We did it together, Bill and I.
I'm sorry, Miss Brant.
The theme was a bride and groom.
Suspense.
Presented by Roma Wine, R-O-M-A, Roma, America's favorite wine.
This is Ken Niles, the owner of the Roma Wine Company.
The Roma's favorite wine.
This is Ken Niles bringing back to our Suspense audience
the lovely, talented star of tonight's play, Anne Baxter.
Anne, you did a marvelous job.
We're sorry you weren't cast as the sweet young thing tonight,
but then most of our Suspense characters are pretty rugged, you know.
Well, I can't be the sweet young thing all the time, Mr. Niles.
Well, bad or good, to show you how we feel about you, Anne,
here's a gift basket of Roma wines
with the compliments of your host tonight, Roma Wine.
Thank you, Ken, and Roma too.
Let's see, is there a Roma wine in my basket
that goes with baked beans? It's a Saturday night favorite.
Oh, positively, Anne. For a combination fit for a king,
try this delicious Roma California burgundy with old-fashioned baked beans.
Mmm, it's a tempting treat.
And whatever the dish, robust Roma burgundy adds zest to everyday meals.
Ken, I could use you at home to help sell my cooking.
No need of that, Anne, when you serve Roma burgundy.
You'll find Roma burgundy works wonders for the simplest dishes,
brings out the natural flavor goodness of any hearty food.
And remember, with Roma wines, you enjoy an important difference,
an extra goodness in fuller bouquet, richer body, and better taste.
Yes, that difference in Roma wines, that better taste,
is the reason more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wine.
It certainly makes sense, Ken. Thank you and good night.
Ann Baxter is currently being seen in the 20th Century Fox
Darrell F. Zanuck production, The Razor's Edge.
Tonight's suspense play was written by Eleanor Beeson.
Next Thursday, same time, you will hear William Bendix
as star of Suspense.
Produced and directed by William Spearer
for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California.
Until next week, enjoy more Suspense thrills
as compiled in Suspense Magazine.
In the coming weeks, Suspense will present such stars
as James Stewart, Eddie Bracken, Howard De Silva, and others.
Make it a point to listen each Thursday to Suspense,
radio's outstanding theater thrill.
Stay tuned for the thrilling adventures of the FBI in Peace and War
following immediately over most of these stations.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.