In just a moment, suspense with Lucille Ball.
Hi, Harlow.
Well, look who's here.
Say, it's mighty nice of you to be sitting around all week just to hear me tell more about Auto Light.
Oh, I haven't been waiting around all week.
Why, I was waiting up in Oregon.
Oh, that's swell. That's swell.
Hey, Hap, do you know the real story about Auto Light stay full batteries?
Sure, I know the real story about Auto Light stay full batteries.
Needs water only three times a year in normal car use.
What a battery. Stay full, that is.
Why, by Cornelius, an Auto Light stay full battery has more liquid reserve than a centipede has legs,
than an ocean has waves, than a rabbit has, well, rabbits.
Water, whales spout it, geysers gush it, people drink it, but Auto Light stay full batteries carry good old aquapurus so long and so well,
they take a drink about as often as you have a birthday, a wedding anniversary, and a New Year's celebration.
Only three times a year in normal car use.
And let me tell you something else, you'd better get an Auto Light stay full battery before...
Before you go on some more, Harlow, let's listen to suspense.
Suspense.
Auto Light and its 60,000 dealers and service stations bring you Radio's outstanding theater of thrills.
Starring tonight, Miss Lucille Ball in Anton Leder's production of A Little Piece of Rope.
A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
They said I'd never make good here in Hollywood.
Everywhere I went it was the same story.
Sure they'd see me, but the minute they took a look at my baby face, all I'd get was advice and excuses.
No job.
My last try was for a schoolgirl part.
I was too baby faced to even land that one.
I was walking home still wearing the school uniform that I'd bought to help me get the part when I got the idea.
Then I remembered another thing.
It was years ago.
Reading an old copy of the police gazette in Grandpa's attic.
Printed about 1880, I guess.
With their falsely youthful faces, dressed as innocent schoolgirls, these vicious females haunt the vicinity of select young ladies' seminaries.
And with their airs of artless girlhood, they entice and trap unwary gentlemen.
Some from the best of families.
It was funny then, but now, well, those gals were suckers.
I take the exclusive gents for all they've got and give absolutely nothing.
That's how I made good in Hollywood.
Up to a thousand dollars a month good.
I just take a little walk.
I've got uniforms for all the best schools and I still have the baby face.
So help me.
Lots of those kids look older than I do.
When school's out, I let some old wolf pick me up.
They always want to park up in the hills or some other lonely place.
I drop my compact.
He bends over to pick it up.
I let him have it with a special little blackjack I carry.
Then I leave, taking their wallets and any letters I find.
You'd be surprised if some of the letters some of them do have.
Makes a dandy bank balance now and then.
Them?
Remember, I pick them old enough to have families, dignified jobs.
Would they want to admit to chasing bobby-soxers?
They never squawk.
My landlady thinks I'm the ideal tenant.
Oh, she's no trouble at all, the poor little thing.
Infantile, you know.
Has to take long walks every day and rest the rest of the time.
Never any fun or dates like other pretty girls.
Well, lucky she can afford it, I say.
Be a county ward otherwise.
And so sweet and quiet, uncomplaining poor little soul.
Yes, Mrs. Tilford is a swell character witness.
Of course, I always wear a coat over those uniforms near home.
And I keep them locked up just in case she snoops.
Yes, yes, I've got a nice career in Hollywood.
That is, I did have until last month.
You going out in this cold, Isabelle?
Oh, this is a good heavy coat.
Well, don't you overdo now.
These walks are just what the doctor ordered.
Anyway, you sure look healthy enough.
Oh, thank heaven for that.
Anything I can pick up for you on the way back?
Oh, no, thanks, dearie. I got everything done.
Goodbye now.
Bye.
I was dressed for Miss Cadwaller's school this time,
and it was just letting out when I got there.
I didn't have long to wait.
You know, you get so you can tell by the way the cars
move along the street if the guy's on the prowl.
This one was driving a big black coupe,
and he was a little younger than I liked, about 40,
but you can't be too fussy.
I stepped off the curb pretending to look for a bus.
Waiting for the bus?
Right now, I'm waiting for the bus.
Waiting for the bus?
Why, yes, I am.
Which one?
The Bel Air bus.
Oh, I say, that's a shame.
Why?
I just passed it back there, broken axle.
Oh.
You know, I think I've seen you passing my house.
What street do you live on?
Cameron.
Oh, sure. I'm just over on Bendette.
Hop in, I'll take you home.
Well, you're a neighbor.
I guess it's... gee, thanks, Mr.
Rice, Alex Rice.
Insurance.
How do you do?
Like school?
I hate it.
School's no fun.
I'd like... oh, I...
What?
Oh, excitement, danger.
I suppose you think I'm pretty silly.
No.
No, I think you're the kind of girl who'll get
excitement and danger.
Really?
Yes, really.
Look, it's so early yet.
I'd like to take the long way through the hills.
It's pretty there now.
Oh, yes, I'd love to.
I think the hills are divine.
Oh, isn't it just out of this world?
Yes.
Yes, indeed.
What's the initial on your bag for?
The initial?
Yeah. Irma, Inez, Ingeborg.
Oh, Ingeborg. You made that up.
No, Swedish.
Imogene?
No, Irene.
Irene Taylor.
A pretty name for a pretty girl.
I'll bet.
You have beautiful hair and eyes
and a beautiful throat.
Wow. Throat?
Irene, you're very...
Oh, Mr. Rice, I dropped my compact.
You don't need it.
But it might get stepped on.
You won't need it.
But I want it now.
All right, all right.
Don't yell so here.
I'll get it for you.
Oh!
Character, huh?
Well, here.
Roll back a little.
There.
I...
Well, what do you know?
Rope.
Now, why would a guy carry a piece of rope in his inside breast pocket?
Hmm. Nice wallet.
Well, goodbye, Mr. Rice, and thanks for everything.
Back home, I showered and changed
and settled down to see what was in this wallet worth keeping.
Only about 50 bucks.
What made it so thick was a lot of newspaper clippings.
Oh!
Oh, no! It can't be!
But it was.
Those clippings were all about the strangler
who'd murdered five girls in the last year,
left them in the hills with a piece of rope around their necks
and never a clue.
And Alexander Rice carried his press notices.
Alexander Rice carried a little piece of rope in his inside breast pocket,
picked up girls, drove into the hills.
Alexander Rice wasn't his name.
No, his driver's license said Benjamin Carney.
I had picked up and slugged the strangler.
My latest sucker was the most dangerous man in the country.
For Suspense, Auto Light is bringing you Miss Lucille Ball
in Radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Say there, neighbor, I didn't get going very well
on those Auto Light stay-full batteries.
Now look here, Harlow Wilcox, I want to...
Never mind. I'm right back in there pitching.
Gee, if I could only tell you about every one of those
400 Auto Light, automotive, aviation, and marine products.
That takes real breath, lots of breath.
And while I'm not as short on taking breath as an Auto Light stay-full battery
is on taking a drink, not by a jugful,
even I just haven't got enough breath for that.
Well, if you just stop talking so much...
I can sure wind up and sound off on those Auto Light stay-full batteries, though.
Making camels look like toppers is just the beginning with them.
They've got oversized electrical capacity plus fiberglass insulation.
You know what that means, my friend?
Sure I know what that means.
It means you should find out for yourself
how long these batteries are bound to live.
You'd have to hibernate like Rip Van Winkle.
I guess you could at that if you had an Auto Light stay-full battery in your car.
I've got an Auto Light.
By the way, those Auto Light engineers designed that Auto Light stay-full battery
is so darned ingenious by Cornelius
that you could pay as little attention to your Auto Light stay-full battery
as Rip Van Winkle did to old father time.
Go down to your Auto Light dealer and get one right away.
There's no better buy in batteries, my boy,
because no better batteries be behind the byline of Barlow Billcocks.
Now look, Billcocks, I mean Wilcocks,
you've got bees in my bonnet now.
If you'll only pipe down, we'll hear some more of suspense.
And now Auto Light brings back to a Hollywood sound stage
Miss Lucille Ball as Isabelle in a little piece of rope.
A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
At first I just shivered over my narrow escape.
Why, if I hadn't been out to get him, he'd have gotten me.
I'd be number six in tomorrow's headlines.
Then I suddenly realized I was the only one who could identify him.
I can't be silent, let him go on killing.
I've got to go to the police station and tell them.
I started to go out when it occurred to me I couldn't.
I didn't dare go to the police and take the chance of exposing my own racket.
If that ever came out, and it probably would,
San Quentin, here I come.
It seems they're a little stuffy about people who carry blackjacks
and steal wallets and sell letters.
So instead I went for a walk, a real one this time,
and just tried to think.
Pretty soon another thought hit me.
He knew I could identify him by now.
The Strangler was no fool.
He'd have me figure it out and know the kind of place and time to look for me.
And he'd certainly be looking for me, to kill me, to shut my mouth forever.
I had to find a way to...
City desk, Thompson.
I know who the Strangler is.
Who's this?
I can't tell you that.
Oh, I see. Well, what can you tell me? You know his name?
Benjamin Carney.
Carney?
C-A-R-N-E-Y. 1156A Boydell Street.
Yeah, description?
About 40. 5'9 or 10.
160 pounds, dark hair, eyes, skin, even features.
Not ugly, not handsome.
Drives a big black coupe. Lady, late model.
Got it. Any identifying marks, mustache?
No, nothing.
And how do you know this guy's the Strangler?
I just know. Goodbye.
Hey, wait a minute, wait a minute.
So you can trace the call?
There had been hundreds of phony clues, and he thought mine was another.
But surely they'd checked that name and address.
All the way home, I had a creepy feeling he was around somewhere.
Following me, waiting.
Evening paper barely mentioned my call, just listed it with several others.
Radio wasn't very much better.
An unidentified woman phoned in a description of the killer as a 40-year-old brunette,
medium height and weight, with no distinguishing features, driving a new black coupe.
Police checks reveal that such a man with the name she gave had moved from the address given
several months before the first of the Strangler murders, but there is no further trace of him.
Investigation continues, but it is believed this is another spite accusation.
A Portland, Oregon woman reported the Strangler as the man who entered her hen house last night and...
No use phoning again. I didn't think a letter would help much either, but I tried.
Being careful it couldn't be traced to me and mailed it to a newspaper that night.
Hey, Mike, Mike, you going to the courthouse? Take this to O'Shea, will you?
Another Strangler letter telling all.
Why can't he just strangle letter writers? One more and I'll strangle somebody.
Another failure. The letter wasn't even printed.
I was getting jumpy from being cooped up like a prisoner.
What if he couldn't find me as long as I stayed home? I was losing money every day. I didn't pull my act.
I could leave town, but why should I give up this good thing, my perfect set up?
I'd been doing fine. Another year I could quit the racket, make friends, invest my money, maybe even get married.
Now this had happened. I'd never be safe. Not as long as we both lived.
I finally faced it. I have to find him and kill him.
This time I put an ad in the Personals column. Would he see it? I'd run it till he did.
A.K. Rice can book your Rope Act for mutual profit. Have immediate out of town engagement. Signed Slugger.
Rope Act. Mutual profit.
I knew that would get him because it sounded like blackmail.
And by pretending to fall for a shakedown, he'd hope to get close enough to kill me.
Only it was going to be the other way around. And so our strange correspondence began. He answered right away.
Slugger. Interested in offers? Send details box 047M298. Rice. I had him hooked. I didn't lose any time writing.
Dear Mr. Rice, I have an invention which I think you'll want for your Rope Act.
It's expensive, but remember, it's completely silent. And yours exclusively if we agree on terms.
Signed Slugger. Completely silent. It's delicious. And expensive. Yes, indeed.
Slugger. Give price and details of contract. Rice. So close now. I couldn't afford the slightest mistake now.
Dear Mr. Rice, 5,000 cash buys complete assortment of paper and leather goods.
Time and place of meeting must be my choice, but decide fast. I must leave town immediately. Signed Slugger.
P.S. You should never have left that snapshot in your wallet. It's awfully good of you.
Snapshot? I thought I... I don't know. I didn't burn it.
So the little lady's in a jam. Needs money to hide out. And I can help her make her get away.
Oh, I can indeed.
Slugger. Price okay. We'll close at your convenience. Rice. I've got him. My plan was as foolproof as I could make it.
I packed a suitcase with the kind of clothes I'd hate to be found dead in. Maybe I would be.
And told Mrs. Milford I was taking a vacation with friends. Oh, I'm so glad, dearie.
I said to Miss Knight yesterday, that child should have country air. City air just don't do the same for you.
Yes, I know. It'll do me good. And you stay longer if they ask you. Don't worry about me holding the apartment for you.
Well, thanks a lot, Mrs. Tilford. It's certainly nice of you. I have to catch that train now. Goodbye.
Have a nice time now.
I took those awful clothes to the bus depot, changed, washed, and let the soap dry on my face till it was white and shiny and ten years older.
With my hair skinned back tight under an old beret, I saw a stranger in the mirror. Baby face was gone. Good.
No one had noticed me, and looking like this, nobody would. Then I walked to another apartment I'd rented by phone last week.
It was in a dingy neighborhood.
I'm Miss Sprout. Oh, Miss Sprout. You can move right in. The people left yesterday.
Here, this is the key. It's the first door at the head of the stairs. Fine, I'll go right up.
It ain't clean yet. Them stairs bother me so. I'd really rather do it myself. Thank you.
Well, I'll just leave you alone there.
Now I was Miss Annie Sprout, librarian, and I looked as much like Isabelle Townes, baby face, as an alley cat looks like a Persian.
I sat down to write the last letter.
Dear Mr. Rice, come to 609 Fitzgillbert Place at 10 p.m. Friday.
And don't try to come near me, or I'll scream my head off.
Tap five times, come in, and stand right by the door while we make sure neither of us is double-crossing the other.
Have the money in an unsealed envelope.
I want that traveling money, but I'd rather take a chance on the cops than on you, so follow instructions.
Slugger.
You fool. You baby-faced fool.
He'd have to make sure the layout was right before he'd dare attack me.
And the more precautions I took, the more he'd believe I was on the level.
Near the door where he'd stand, I put a chest with a lamp on it.
That was my booby trap, that lamp.
The room was so dimly lit, he'd have to light my lamp to look at the wallet.
And when he pulled the light chain, he'd shoot himself.
I had a gun fixed where the bulb should be, and the chain pulled the trigger.
It was set to get him in the chest, heart if I was lucky.
Dead or not, I'd leave him there for the cops, with his wallet and clippings.
Pretty cute, huh?
And I'd skip out the back way with all that beautiful money, go to the depot, become Isabel Townes again, safe and free.
I wore gloves all the time I was there, and the suitcase with Isabel Townes' identity in it was ready by the back door.
The hours passed like centuries, and the old house creaked like a sick old man in a squeaky bed.
Of course, it might be the house, or it might be someone on the stairs.
And then it was ten o'clock.
I was standing at the other end of the room, facing the door.
The light was very dim.
I heard the feet coming up the stairs, or was it just the creaking of the old house?
No, no.
Good evening, slugger.
You see, I'm prompt, slugger.
Stand where you are.
Certainly.
Did you bring the money?
Yes, indeed. Here, Miss Endel.
Throw it down in the middle of the room, between us.
Go ahead, Miss Endel.
It'll stay there while you examine the leather goods.
Do you have the wallet here?
Yes.
Throw the money. I can't reach it from here, you know. It's quite safe.
All right.
There.
The wallet.
Where is it?
On that chest beside you by the lamp.
Yes.
Well, thanks, slugger.
Aren't you going to look to see that everything's there?
Why should I?
I trust you.
So long, babyface.
See you around.
He's gotten away, alive.
He must have guessed I'd done something to the lamp.
So he was still alive and still dangerous.
But at least I had the money, the $5,000.
I picked up the envelope and opened it.
There was nothing in it but pieces of newspaper cut to the size of bills.
Why, you dirty cheat!
I ran to the door and opened it.
I looked out, but he wasn't in there.
Maybe I could catch him before he got out of the house.
You won't get away with this.
I stepped into the hall and before I could turn, I felt the rope around my neck.
His hands were pulling it tight.
Oh, baby, I told you I'd see you around, didn't I?
There you are, baby.
You're paid off in full.
Now, I'll just go back inside.
Let's see.
I guess you'll be safe on the floor while we finish our business.
Now, I'll take a look at that wallet, baby.
You might have held out some of those clippings.
I'll just turn on this light.
Thank you, Lucille Ball, for a splendid performance.
Miss Ball will return in just a moment.
Say, Hap, you going back to Oregon?
Well, how are you?
That's a nice trip if you can get it with an auto light stay full battery.
You know, I'd advise you to get a sign for your thumb saying,
any car with auto light stay full batteries can carry me.
I forgot my canteen.
But, Harlow, I...
Of course, you could buy an auto light stay full battery
and simply insist that whoever picked you up use your battery,
but you couldn't get back to Oregon that way.
No, sirree, they'd never let you out of the car
just so they could keep that wonderful auto light stay full battery.
Let's see, after you got to Oregon, you could go to Washington, Montana,
Minnesota, Maine, New York, and Florida.
But, Harlow, I've been trying to tell you I've got an auto light stay full battery.
Oh, well then, you know that auto light means batteries.
Stay full battery.
Auto light means spark plugs.
Ignition engineered spark plugs.
Auto light means ignition system.
The lifeline of your car.
And now here again is Miss Lucille Ball.
It's always a great pleasure to appear on Suspense,
especially when the part is so unusual and exciting.
That's right, Miss Ball.
The part of Isabelle tonight was very different
from your regular radio role on My Favorite Husband.
Ha ha, plug.
Why not?
Something like, uh, listen to Lucille Ball
as Liz Cougar on My Favorite Husband every Saturday night.
Over your favorite CBS station.
All right?
Wonderful.
And I hope all of you will be listening next week
when Suspense presents William Powell in a role
that's also different from the parts he's been playing lately.
He's playing a man who's just stolen a quarter of a million dollars
and then finds out that...
But you'll hear about it next Thursday when Suspense brings you
Give Me Liberty, another gripping study in...
Suspense.
Lucille Ball may soon be seen in the Paramount production
Sourful Jones.
Barry Kroger was heard tonight in the part of The Strangler.
Tonight's Suspense play was written by Virginia Cross
with music composed by Lucien Morrowek
and conducted by Lud Bluskin.
The entire production was under the direction of Anton M. Leeder.
In the coming weeks, Suspense will present such stars
as John Garfield, Margaret O'Brien, Sydney Greenstreet,
Agnes Moorhead, Edmund O'Brien, and many others.
Make it a point to listen each Thursday to Suspense,
Radio's outstanding theater of thrills.
And next Thursday same time, hear William Powell in
Give Me Liberty.
This is the Auto Light Suspense Show.
Here's your party, Miss Ball.
We should all support our local community chest
and their drives for funds.
Money is badly needed for aid to the handicapped,
child care, hospitals, clinics, and a host of other humanitarian services.
Subscribe to your local community chest.
Everybody benefits, everybody gives.
Thank you.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.