Auto Light and its 96,000 dealers present Suspense.
Tonight, Auto Light brings you a story of a mind reader who discovers his nightclub
act is not a fake.
A story we call a vision of death starring Mr. Ronald Coleman.
Before our play begins, here is a word about Auto Light from a good friend of ours.
Greetings, I, Wilcox.
Why, it's that amazing, magnificent mystic and great glass globe gazer, Sabu the Swami.
What's on my mind?
You think of your best friend.
Everybody's best friend.
The Auto Light Stay Full, the battery that needs water only three times a year in normal
car use.
Now the glass shows a glass even more powerful than mine.
Well, that's the fiberglass retaining mat protecting every positive plate in the Auto
Light Stay Full battery.
They prevent shedding and flaking and give the Stay Full longer life, as proved by tests
conducted according to accepted life cycle standards.
Now I see many smiling faces.
Among the thousands of drivers who visit their masterful, merry and marvelous neighborhood
Auto Light battery dealers.
For an Auto Light Stay Full, the battery that needs water only three times a year in normal
car use.
Now the crystal ball shows words of wisdom.
I know.
You're always right with Auto Light.
And now with a vision of death and the performance of Mr. Ronald Coleman, Auto Light hopes once
again to keep you in suspense.
If I speak too rapidly for your stenographer, you'll tell me won't you, Lieutenant?
No offense, but he impresses me as someone who has to sit on the floor to put his shoes
on.
And don't hesitate to stop me if I seem to wander away from the point.
I mean to say this is my first and I hope final appearance in a police precinct and
I should hate to give a sloppy performance.
We were always known, Aurora and I, for the smoothness and gem-like precision of our act.
And as for this murder rap, I suppose it's called is concerned, an acquaintance with
our act is the essential rabbit.
Awfully good act.
Smart, informal, occasionally humorous and always mystifying.
Well, the act always began with music, never with the cliché fanfare of trumpets or roll
of drums.
I would saunter out to the center of the floor and say something like, good evening, you
are about to witness an exhibition of mental telepathy.
Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce Aurora, my wife.
They never failed to give her a hand.
What were they applaud?
The vision she presented as she came toward me.
There's never been anyone as lovely as Aurora, the most beautiful flash in the profession.
Aurora, would you care to tell the audience or shall I?
You tell them, Judd, while I tie the blindfold across my eyes.
Ladies and gentlemen, all mind readers employ a gimmick.
A gimmick is a trick, a device.
For example, when the mind reader, threading his way through the audience, says to the
mind reader sitting blindfolded on the stage, a lady has given me a small object, which
I now hold in my hand.
What is it?
And the mind reader sitting blindfolded replies, a silver coin.
The answer has not come through mind reading.
No, it has come through the gimmick, a cue or signal communicated through the very question
itself.
But we don't do that.
We do not.
You will notice, ladies and gentlemen, that I never speak to Aurora at all.
Are you ready, Rory?
Ready, Judd.
Here we go, then.
You, sir.
You have something.
Go ahead.
Concentrate upon it like a good chap.
The gentleman holds a coin in his hand.
And you, madam?
It is a Mexican peso bearing the date 1-8-9-2.
I know that.
That's very clever of you, madam.
I'll be surprised if she gets this one.
The lady holds in her hand her other hand.
How about you, young man?
A sucker once born remains a sucker till death.
The audience never realized, never in all the years we worked, that although I was not
speaking to Aurora directly, my chatter nevertheless was loaded with signals and cues for her guidance.
By revealing the gimmick, we concealed the gimmick.
And that, lieutenant, is the ne plus ultra of gimmicks.
Yes, it was as crude as that.
But it enabled us to work 50 weeks a year here and abroad at an average of over a thousand
a week.
Of course, I always gave some credit for our success to our agent, Harry Arnold.
Although Rory was inclined to give him no credit at all.
Good news, Judd.
I've managed to book the act into the college inn in Chicago with a four-week guarantee.
Not bad, huh?
Get him.
He managed to book the act.
I suppose they never heard of us in Chicago.
I suppose we weren't held over there six weeks when we played the Sans Souci in 1948.
You think it's easy to get a four-week guarantee these days?
Money is short.
Money is tight.
I've never yet heard you say money is long, money is loose.
You have to sweat for your 10 percent, don't you?
Yes, you do, in a pig's ear you do.
Agents, they're all like you.
Oh, there's gratitude for you.
There's the milk of human memory.
What were you when I first saw you?
Nothing, not this much.
Playing 10 a day on the canvas in Monash, Wisconsin, and paid off in bottle tops.
I worked, I schemed, I sweated.
Listen to him.
You think he had to get out there on the floor every night.
You think he was the one spent 11 months, 12 hours a day memorizing the code.
You think it was his name in lights?
Agents.
All they know is how to live off a dead whale.
Scum of the earth.
Look, I'm not going to take that from you, you hear me?
You'll take it, baby, along with the 10 percent.
You'll take it and you'll chew it and you'll swallow it and you'll keep it down, too.
How do you like that?
I'm warning you, kid.
Don't push me too far.
Now, children, children, on your way, Harry, and don't let it get you down.
I think a four-week guarantee is pretty good.
Oh, thanks, Judd.
If it wasn't for you, Judd, I'd...
Oh, why go into it?
I'm going for a walk.
But aside from these altercations between Rory and Harry, it was smooth sailing.
We wore the best, ate the best, drank the best, stayed at the finest hotels.
And every Saturday night after the performance, Harry would bring us our salary.
He'd bring it in cash.
Thousand, 1250, 1500.
I have the old performer's distrust of checks.
Been given too many with a high latex content.
Anyway, life couldn't have been more pleasant.
And then one evening, about five weeks ago, soon after we opened at the Grove here in
town, a frightening thing occurred.
We'd just begun the act and I was out in the audience.
You will notice, ladies and gentlemen, that I never speak to Aurora at all.
Are you ready, Rory?
Ready, Judd.
Here we go then.
Now, you, madam.
The lady holds in her hand a compact.
It is platinum and bears her initials, RC.
You, sir.
The gentleman is holding an engagement ring.
In it are three small diamonds.
I...
Miss, miss, have you...
The young lady is holding...
It's a small cameo brooch.
And it's got an
Rory, Rory.
Maurice, Maurice, music, music.
I picked Rory up from the floor and hurried with her to our dressing room, almost beside
myself with anxiety.
I placed her on the couch, dampened her towel and put it on her forehead and began to chafe
her wrists.
Rory, Rory, honey, Rory.
Judd, what happened?
I was in the bar.
Do you want me to get a doctor?
No, no, no.
I don't know.
Get out.
Leave us alone.
Get out, Harry.
Get out.
Judd, Judd.
I'm here, Rory.
Are you all right?
I guess so.
I don't know what happened.
You painted away.
Try to remember what happened.
I felt funny.
I don't know what happened.
I don't remember.
No, no, try, try, Rory, try.
Try to remember.
It's important.
I can't.
Why is it important?
Oh, you don't know?
Rory, you don't know?
You were calling out the answers before I even had a chance to give you the cue.
Do you believe in telepathy, Lieutenant?
I don't mean the sort of thing Rory and I usually did.
I mean real telepathy.
I never did either until that night.
I don't mind telling you I was badly shaken.
I mean, after all, I knew we'd been using a gimmick and suddenly it began to happen without
the gimmick.
Scared us to death.
We didn't know what we were getting into.
But we went on with the act and in my mind I began to search about for the answer.
I found it, of course.
You'll find a gimmick in almost everything if you look hard enough.
I've got it, Rory.
We've worked together so long that you know what I'm going to say before I say it.
From my inflection, my pauses, even my movements.
You see?
Judd, that has to be it.
This is marvelous.
When Harry gets back, I'll tell him about it.
And if I last until tomorrow, he can ask the management for more dough.
Yeah, as soon as he gets back.
Next Thursday.
Tonight.
How much more should we ask for?
What, we...
Tonight?
What made you say tonight?
I don't know, Judd.
Oh, you were there when he told me he'd be in Palm Springs till Thursday.
What... what made you say tonight?
I don't know.
What difference does it make?
Stop picking on me.
So I made a mistake.
So what?
I don't see how you could make such a mistake, that's all.
Judd, leave me alone.
I've been worried half crazy about really being able to read your mind.
I've been under a strain.
So Harry's coming back Thursday and not tonight.
All right.
You satisfied?
He'll be here Thursday and not tonight.
You Juddson Stone, mister.
This dressing room, eh?
What is it?
A telegram.
Sign here.
Oh, sign for it, will you, Rory?
There you are, kid.
I'm sorry I blew up in your face, Judd.
Judd.
What's the matter?
It's... it's from Harry.
He's coming in tonight.
And he did too, Lieutenant.
Rory was so upset by it, she couldn't go on at all that evening.
She had no explanation for how she knew, none whatsoever.
I don't know, Judd.
I just don't know.
My mind seems to go blank and I seem to hear a voice whisper in my ear.
Harry, Arnold will be with you tonight.
That's all.
When we got to our suite at the hotel, Harry was there waiting for us.
What happened?
You both look like ghosts.
Harry, I'll tell you some other time.
Leave us alone, will you?
All right, all right.
I'm going.
Just came back to wish you a happy birthday and to give you this.
Birthday?
Oh, yeah.
Thanks.
Thanks, Harry.
Thanks.
What is it?
Well, open it, why don't you?
It's a bathrobe.
A red silk bathrobe with your initials.
That's right.
It's a...
How does she know?
How do you know?
Get out of here.
Judd, make him get out of here.
Look, I won't be talked to like that.
I don't care who she is.
I won't be talked to like that.
Harry, shut up.
For heaven's sake, shut up and go away.
Leave us alone.
What?
Go, get out.
Get out.
You too, Judd?
She's got you talking against me too, huh?
All right, I'm going.
I'm going.
But from here on in, it's strictly business between us.
I wash my hands.
He kept his word, Lieutenant.
From that time on, he kept himself to himself.
And I was prepared to let it go at that, much as I liked Harry, until the night I was awakened
by Rory, moaning in her sleep.
No, no, please.
Rory, wake up.
You're having a bad dream.
Rory.
No.
What?
Judd?
Shhh.
Judd.
It's all right.
I'm here.
Oh, Judd.
What, Rory?
The voice.
Whispering again?
Yes.
Oh, Judd.
What?
He's going to kill me.
Harry Arnold is going to kill me.
And that, Lieutenant, was the beginning of the end of that.
Auto Light is bringing you Mr. Ronald Coleman with Kathy Lewis in A Vision of Death, tonight's
production in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Rory, Rory, get a grip on yourself.
He's going to kill me.
Harry is going to kill me.
Don't be ridiculous.
Stop it now.
It was just a bad dream.
Harry is going to kill me.
Will you stop that?
Will you stop saying that?
Judd, hold me.
Judd, run.
Harry is going to kill me.
Now you've had a bad dream, I tell you.
He hates me.
He hates me, Judd.
Judd, Harry is going to kill me.
I'm a rational man, Lieutenant.
I've always felt, for example, that when Hamlet says there are stranger things in heaven and
earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio, Horatio ought to reply, tell that
to Sweeney.
I knew there was no such thing as mental telepathy.
I knew it as well as I know I'm sitting here talking to you.
Up here in my head, I knew it.
And yet, the next afternoon, I found myself entering a gun shop and purchasing a revolver
and a box of bullets, determined that before Harry Arnold could so much as injure one hair
of Rory's head, I would kill him.
I should have gone directly to the police first.
You're using hindsight, Lieutenant.
I had all that out with Rory.
Please, Judd, please.
Go to the police and tell them about this.
Let them handle it.
Tell them what?
That by reading his mind, we've learned Harry intends to murder you.
They'll believe us.
They've got to believe us.
Oh, now, they're reasoning like a child.
They'll decide that it's either a publicity stunt or else they were both lunatics.
If I tell them about the telegram and the birthday presents...
Rory, we have no proof.
But we have to do something.
What?
Tell me what?
You know he intends to kill you.
I know he intends to kill you, but what can we do?
I can't simply put a bullet in his heart next time I see him.
How could I explain it?
My wife had a premonition that he was going to murder her.
Do you know when he's going to do it or how he's going to do it?
No.
He hasn't decided yet.
Isn't there anything we can do?
Nothing.
Except wait.
I reacted to the waiting, as you might expect, Lieutenant.
Sleeplessness, loss of appetite, growing irritability.
I flared up at everyone.
The waiters, chambermaids, elevator boys, the manager of the club.
The manager of the club, yes.
He finally said to me...
Stone, what the devil's gotten into you?
I'd really like to know.
None of your business.
I'm only trying to be nice.
Oh, shut up and let me alone.
Yeah, sure, I'll let you alone.
I'd let you alone right now if your contract didn't have another week to run.
But after that, I'll let you strictly alone.
You'll never work this club again.
Maniac.
I began to drink quite heavily, quite noticeably.
I was going crazy just from the waiting.
And then, and then the waiting came to an end.
It was around three in the morning.
I was sitting up in bed, in the dark, smoking, when Rory opened her eyes and said...
Judd?
Yes?
The voice.
Yes?
He's, he's going to kill me.
Here, right here, in this room.
Rory.
Saturday.
This Saturday at midnight.
Judd?
Rory, Rory, sweetheart.
He's going to shoot me.
He has a gun.
And he's going to shoot me.
He's going to get you downstairs in the manager's office at the club.
I don't know how he's going to get you down there.
He's going to get you down there in the manager's office at the club.
And why is he there?
He's going to come up here.
Rory, Rory, listen to me.
I want you to listen to me.
You're mistaken, do you understand?
You've been having another bad dream and that's all there is to it.
No, no, Judd, I swear it.
He just thought of it.
Just this minute.
He was standing at a bar, standing there all by himself, drinking.
And he just this minute decided.
You're making it up.
Judd, no.
It's the bar over at the Tuscany Hotel.
I see it so clear.
You're wrong. You're wrong.
I'll prove you wrong.
Judd.
Give me the bar at the Tuscany, will you?
Over on Sunset.
One moment, please.
You'll see, Rory, he's not there at all.
You'll see, it's just a dream.
Just a bad dream.
Tuscany Cocktail Lounge.
Hello, is Harry Arnold there at the bar?
Harry Arnold? No, I'm sorry, he's not.
He's not, huh? You sure of that?
Sure, I'm sure. He was here all evening, left about a minute ago.
I said good night to him myself.
He wanted me to call.
It wasn't a dream.
Judd.
No, no, Rory, don't worry.
Trust me, trust me.
When Harry comes tomorrow night, you won't be here at all.
But I will.
Look, Lieutenant, my hands.
See?
Just the memory of how I felt at that moment when my hands began to tremble again.
Amazing, isn't it?
Well, that was last Thursday night, or rather Friday morning,
and towards daybreak, Rory subbed herself to sleep.
But I was restless.
I got dressed and went downstairs and got into my car.
A long drive has always relaxed me,
but when I got behind the wheel, I don't know what it was, possibly the fresh air.
But all at once I felt as though I couldn't keep my eyes open for another moment.
I simply had to have sleep.
So I crawled into the back seat,
curled myself up in one corner,
pulled the rug over me and went out like a light.
Hello, Satin Skin.
Hello, Harry.
I was awakened around noon by the sound of voices.
Don't smile at me, you idiot. You may cease.
Look businesslike.
Where is he?
I don't know.
Since he hasn't got the car, he must be out walking.
Don't you have some papers or something I could be examining just to make it look good in case...
A pocketful here.
All right.
Did he fall for it last night?
Just like he fell for all the rest of it.
Red bathrobe, the plants in the audience.
He even phoned the bar just after you left.
I timed it beautifully.
Oh, Satin Skin, Satin Skin, I can hardly keep away from you.
After tomorrow night, we'll have all the time in the world for each other, Harry.
You bought the whole story, huh? Midnight, tomorrow, your place?
Every word of it. Just do what you have to do.
Remember to come to the dressing room before the eight o'clock show
and tell him you've set up a meeting with Stamper, the manager in his office at 12.
I want them to shake hands and be friends again. I'll tell him.
And don't forget, when you come to the door at midnight,
keep talking to the elevator boy. Don't let him go, whatever you do.
You'll want him to testify with self-defense.
Don't worry. I won't forget a thing.
You'll handle all the rest of it?
Yeah, yeah. Just leave it to me.
No, I mean about his gun. That's pretty important, you know.
Don't worry. It will misfire.
It'd be difficult for me to tell you what I felt as they walked away, lieutenant.
One part of me felt the way a man ought to feel, I suppose,
when he learns that the woman he loves is not only unfaithful,
but plotting his death as well.
But another part of me felt only relief.
Relief at learning there was a gimmick in this, too.
They've been fairly clever for amateurs.
Harry had a good excuse for carrying a gun
to protect the cash he brought me each Saturday.
My own behavior in recent weeks would lend weight
to what he would probably offer in his defense,
but I must have been crazy.
For no reason at all, I'd pointed a revolver at him and threatened his life
that he had a shoot in self-defense.
The presence of the elevator boy,
that could mean only that Harry would shoot just as soon as I opened the door.
I'd be found dead with a revolver in my hand
and a heartbroken agent at my side.
Tableau.
Then I found myself hoping, as I never hoped before,
that they'd come to their senses before Saturday,
that they'd realize what a vicious, inhuman thing it was they were planning.
But just before the eight o'clock show that night,
there was a knock at the door of our dressing room.
Come in.
Judd, I've been talking to Stamford, the manager.
He's sorry there's bad blood between you. He wants to square it.
I told him you'd be in his office at 12 to talk things over.
All right with you? Yeah.
We don't want it so we never work here again, do we?
I mean, there's no reason we should. No reason at all.
Button my dress, Judd. See you later, Judd.
Yeah, later.
Well, we did the show and then went up to our suites.
I helped Rory pack a small overnight bag.
I loaded the revolver and then there was nothing to do but wait.
The minutes passed.
Nine o'clock, ten, ten-thirty, and I waited.
Judd. Yes?
I don't want you to go.
It's best that you do.
It doesn't seem right to leave you here alone.
Things might not go as I planned.
I might not be able to stop him.
And if I fail to stop him...
Oh, no, it's best that you go.
Just wait at the motel until you hear from me.
What time is it?
Almost 11. Two minutes of 11.
I'm out of cigarettes.
Desk.
This is Mr. Stone in 1101.
Please send up a carton of players, will you?
Right away, Mr. Stone.
I want you to go now, Rory.
Judd, let me call the police, please.
It would be useless.
We've gone into it and it'll be useless.
Then come with me.
He won't find anybody here.
Then he'll choose another place, another time.
Here's your valise.
You have your gun?
In my pocket.
You won't take any chances.
I don't know what I'd do if you were hurt or anything.
I won't take any chances.
Let me help you on with your coat.
Judd, I love you so.
Yes, I know.
And I love you, Rory.
I really do, you know.
Ready?
Yes.
Eleven o'clock.
He'll be here in an hour.
Go now, Rory.
Kiss me goodbye.
Judd.
The cigarettes.
Get them, will you, darling, while I find change?
Harry.
Rory.
Rory!
I shall always remember the look on Harry's face, Lieutenant, as she sank to the floor.
They'd concocted a bad dream between them and it had come true.
I'll bet he still doesn't know how it happened.
And if you pass his cell, Lieutenant, you might tell him.
Whisper the word gimmick into his ear.
That's what I said, gimmick.
I'll tell him.
That's what I said, gimmick.
I gimmicked the clock while Rory was dressing.
I set it back a full hour.
It was eleven to her, but twelve to him.
I adore gimmicks.
Don't you?
Suspense.
Presented by Auto Light.
Tonight's star, Mr. Ronald Coleman.
My occult powers do reveal that every driver's automobile has a life both long and bright when it has parts by Auto Light.
Well, that's fortune telling. There's no doubt about, Swami.
You know, Auto Light makes over 400 fine products for cars, trucks, planes, and boats in 28 plants from coast to coast.
These include complete ignition systems used as original factory equipment on many leading makes of our finest cars.
Generators, coils, distributors, electric windshield wipers, voltage regulators, wire and cables, starting motors, and many more.
They're all engineered to fit together perfectly, work together perfectly, because they're all part of the Auto Light team.
So friends, don't accept electrical parts supposed to be as good.
Ask for and insist on Auto Light original factory parts at your neighborhood service station, car dealer, garage, or repair shop.
Remember, you're always right with Auto Light.
Next week on Suspense, our star will be Mr. Van Johnson in Strange for a Killer.
And in weeks to come, you will hear such famous stars as Miss Joan Crawford, Mr. Jack Carson, and Mr. Jack Benny.
All on Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with music composed by Lucian Morrowek and conducted by Lud Bluskin.
In tonight's play, Kathy Lewis was heard as Aurora and Larry Dobkin as Harry.
Others in the cast were Florida Edwards, Joseph Kearns, and Charles Calvert.
A vision of death was written by Jerry Hausner and adapted for Suspense by Walter Newman.
Ronald Coleman may be heard each week on his own radio program, The Halls of Ivy.
And remember, next week on Suspense, Mr. Van Johnson as a man who suspects a murderer is holding as hostages his wife and child.
A story we call Strange for a Killer.
You can buy world famous auto light staple batteries, auto light resistor type spark plugs, or standard type spark plugs, auto light electrical parts at your neighborhood auto light dealers.
Switch to auto light. Good night.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.