Now, the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California presents...
Suspense!
Tonight, Roma Wines bring you Mr. Zachary Scott, the star of Murder Off Key, 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 Mr. Zachary
Scott in a remarkable tale of...
Suspense!
If I could just shut out that singing, I'd be alright.
But it goes on pounding inside my head and I keep hearing vial of screech, those desperate
urgent scales.
The first time I heard her, I was sitting on the balcony outside the apartment and everything
was unnaturally still, the way it is late at night.
And maybe that's why her singing sounded louder than it actually was.
But something abnormal about it is, though a control inside her had snapped and she couldn't
stop that horrible noise that was coming from her throat, it went on over and over again,
rising and falling and scraping the hot night into shreds.
She's pretty terrible, isn't she?
What?
I'm over here on the next balcony.
Oh, sorry, I didn't see you.
What did you say?
She's pretty terrible, isn't she?
And she thinks that's a trained voice.
Awful.
Does she do it often or only when the moon is full?
Oh, she goes on like that almost every evening.
You must be new around here.
I just got into New York this afternoon.
Are you visiting Mr. Morley?
Well, in a way, he went out of town and I'm staying in his apartment.
I didn't mean to sound crying.
I'm just saying that he's a very good man.
I'm not going to be able to get away with this.
I'm not going to be able to get away with this.
I'm not going to be able to get away with this.
I'm not going to be able to get away with this.
I don't want to be a burden to you.
I don't want to be a burden to you.
Thank you for visiting Mr. Morley.
Well, in a way, he went out of town and I'm staying in his apartment.
I didn't mean to sound crying.
But he told me he was going on a vacation, and I wondered if he'd left.
Her family must be all deaf mutes.
No, she lives alone.
Well, that's not hard to understand.
Hasn't the manager done anything about it?
They could always try stra- strangling her.
Oh, she heard you.
Oh, do you think so?
I hope so. Well, I must be going in. Good night.
Good night.
Roses are shining in St. Louis!
It was in the lobby the next afternoon that I met her.
When she came up to me, I knew instinctively that she was a songbird the night before.
She was past middle age and was ignoring it.
Her hair was dyed and piled up in coquettish curls,
and she used some kind of heavy sweet perfume that was overpowering.
She came tripping up with the usual old white poodle dog yapping at her heels.
Pardon me. Would you hold this package for a moment?
I have so many things. I'll never find my keys anywhere.
Well, I was just...
Thank you so much.
Luna, Petty, is that nice, making such a fuss at this charming gentleman?
Oh, no, he's...
What will he think? Oh, I don't know what I'm going to do if this weather keeps up.
Yes, it does.
I've always been on the delicate side, and I've never been able to stand the heat.
When my husband was alive, he's dead now.
He always whistled away to the ocean the first warm day, even when I was in the theatre.
Oh, my manager would be furious.
Well, I can understand...
I can't imagine where my key is.
Would you hold Petty for me?
Well, I don't know...
Oh, thank you.
You will not take me, Petty, even though he won't hurt you.
Oh, my husband used to say to me,
Violet, my real name is Imogene, but he called me Violet. It's always been my favorite color.
Violet, he used to say, you must go to the sea, or you'll be withering those lovely petals of yours.
Before I knew it, we were in Atlantic City.
That's very nice.
Oh, here's that horrid little key, on my key ring of all places.
Well, those things sometimes happen.
Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you.
My husband used to say,
Violet, you're a woman who needs a man around.
Of course, he was a pillar of strength himself.
Oh, and to think of his dying of a gallbladder that way.
Well, thank you again.
Oh, what did you say your name is?
Oh, Carlson.
Oh, how nice! Carlson.
Such a sturdy, dependable name. So suitable for a man.
You must come up and have tea with me sometime.
Well, I have a special Chinese brand.
It smells like dead flowers.
Going up?
Going up, but only for until we meet again.
That next meeting would be never, as far as I was concerned at that point,
but it actually happened that night.
She was at the scales again, about nine o'clock,
and there was a desperate urgency in her singing.
It was the last frantic attempt to stop the clock and the double chins and the fading light.
Those pathetic scales had a shrill terror that made me embarrassed listening to them.
Well, as though I were eavesdropping on some shameful secret.
It was then that I went to leave the balcony and saw the sheet music lying behind the urn.
My first impulse was a humanitarian one, and I threw it in the wastebasket.
But for some unknown reason, I suddenly felt a kind of pity for that woman singing alone up there,
and the next thing I knew, I was on my way upstairs with the music.
Yes, what do you want?
Oh, is Mrs. Violet in?
Violet?
I'm sorry, old boy. She must have given you the wrong number.
Oh, I thought it was on this floor.
Oh, hold on. If you mean Mrs. Pondek, that's the next apartment.
Oh, sorry to have bothered you.
Going in for tea, or do you have your own bank account?
Thank you very much.
Oh, not at all, not at all. I'm always glad to help a music lover.
As I stood there in the hall, I began to think about that leer he had given me.
I was about to turn back when the door opened.
Oh, Mr. Carpenter, you've come for that tea after all. How nice.
Oh, be quiet, petty. Be quiet.
Oh, but I just found that...
You've not heard the word. Come along.
Violet had outdone herself in a trailing negligee of purple chiffon,
and the usual clutching hand went with the outfit.
There was something obscene about the hand fingers, heavy with diamonds, the nails polished too red.
Obscene and pathetic.
The room was heavy and operatic, just like her.
There were glass cases and curio cabinets filled with every imaginable kind of glittering thing.
Rings and bracelets, brooches, most of it in terrible taste, but all of it unquestionably expensive.
Oh, admiring my collection? Most everyone does.
Your friend Mr. Morley just...
Oh, petty, petty, dear, be quiet.
Oh, I do believe he's jealous of you.
You know he has a thick sense about admirers.
I remember when I was in the theatre.
He used to carry on dreadfully when my dressing room was still with them.
He was my husband in the legs.
So now, sit down in this chair.
I'm afraid all the others are too small for a big man like you.
Well, I really came to return this music. It must have blown down on my balcony.
Oh, roses of Picardy. It's always been one of my favorites.
My husband simply adored it.
I remember I sang it to him on Saturday night, and that Sunday afternoon he was dead.
Well, that must have been quite a shock.
Oh, I sometimes wonder that I've found the courage and strength to go on.
Of course, my music has been a great consolation.
Now, you sit right down. I won't be a no man.
Petty will look after you, won't you, petty, huh?
The roses are shining.
You sit here and answer that. It's probably the elevator door.
I've come to take the door... Oh, a new one.
Yes, what is it?
I came for Mrs. Pondacher's dog to take him for a walk.
Here he is, and he's all yours.
Thanks. Come on, Renton.
Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!
I didn't care for the way the elevator boy smirked.
And as I sat there in her apartment with that heavy perfume suffocating me,
I cared less for the trapped feeling I was beginning to have.
It wasn't until two days later in the garage that the trap closed.
Good morning, Mr. Carlson. Can I do something for you?
Oh, no, thanks, Joe. Just want to get my sunglasses out of the compartment.
Well, your car's right over here. I cleaned it up for you.
Gee, it was a mess, let me tell you. You must have run into something.
What? The whole front was stuck with brown stuff and white fur,
like you hit a dog or a cat, maybe.
Funny, I don't remember hitting anything.
Why, don't worry, I cleaned it off.
Hey, Joe. Wait a minute.
What, something wrong?
Tell that help of yours my car isn't an ash can.
They dumped all these old newspapers in the bag.
Oh, gee, I'm sorry, Mr. Carlson.
Well, just give them to me, I'll throw them out.
Boy, they sure are a mess.
Looks like something out of butcher shop, don't it?
Well, it won't happen again, sir. You don't even bet your bottom dollar on that.
When I came upstairs, I was still trying to figure out the angle of those stained old newspapers,
but I didn't have long to wait.
I found out the minute I stepped into the lobby.
Oh, Mr. Carlson, thank heavens you're here.
I've been out of my mind. It's Petty.
He's disappeared. We can't find him anywhere.
I just know he's being run over. I just know it.
Run over?
What?
What do you mean, run over?
I just know it.
When did all this happen?
Last night, when this wretched boy took him out.
Now, look, Mrs. Pondekker, it's like I told you.
I only stopped in for a cup of coffee, and the next thing I know, the dog is gone.
Of course he's gone.
Some uncouth person in that saloon undoubtedly made off with him.
Well, there's only one thing to do, and that is to offer a large reward.
Don't you agree, Mr. Carlson?
Oh, yes, yes, that's a good idea.
But I knew then, as sure as I was standing there, that nothing would bring Petty back.
Just as I knew that he had been in my car sometime last night, lying on some old newspapers.
That's why I wasn't too surprised at first when the heavy blond man with the soft voice came to see me.
Mr. Frederick Carlson?
Yes, that's right.
I'm from headquarters.
I'd like to ask you a couple of questions about this Pondekker business.
Have they found the dog?
You don't know about that, huh?
Well, she mentioned it to me.
You two were pretty friendly, weren't you?
Well, I spoke to her a couple of times.
Hey, what is this?
I don't come into my place full of innuendos. I don't see that...
There's no need to get excited, Mr. Carlson.
I'm just checking up on the people who last saw her last.
I still...
What are you talking about?
She's dead?
Very much so.
She was strangled sometime last night.
For Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you as star Mr. Zachary Scott in Murder Off Key by Gene Russ Curd.
Roma Wines presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Between the acts of Suspense, this is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines.
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Zachary Scott as Frederick Carlson in Murder Off Key,
a play well calculated to keep you in suspense.
The heavy blonde man with the soft voice asked a few more questions after that and then he left.
The motive was robbery, very valuable jewelry and a great deal of money, everything gone.
It seemed Violet was in the habit of drawing out large sums
and keeping them around in old beaded purses and tarnished gilt boxes.
It all fitted in with Violet who was so helpless without her pillar of strength
and who sang those desperate jangling scales.
Obviously she had no idea of financial matters.
Somebody else had plenty of other ideas and l was one of them.
l knew it that night when l went around to the corner automat.
Yes, l was definitely one of them. There was no doubt about it.
Do you mind if l join you, Mr. Carlson?
lt was soft voice, smiling down at me over a cup of coffee and a piece of pie.
Murder a la mode.
l always come here for their apple pie. Have you ever tried it?
Haven't gotten round to it.
You should. lt's excellent.
Have a sugar. Thank you.
How'd you happen to come here for your vacation?
Oh, l don't know. l was short on cash and then Morley wrote
and suggested l stay in his place. lt seemed like a good idea at the time.
You don't have that letter, do you?
Say, what is this?
No need to get excited, Mr. Carlson. l was just asking.
Oh, you really should try this pie.
The apples are just dried firm and taut. Dog.
How should l know?
l don't know. l'm just looking at it.
You're looking at it from a different angle.
l understand he was a regular burglar alarm.
Always barked if anyone ever came to the door.
And then he disappears the night before her death.
Very convenient. Don't you agree?
lt would look that way.
Have some more of that sugar. Thank you.
l never seem to get enough.
Did you drive up to New York?
l can skip that.
There's no need to get excited, Mr. Carlson.
l never suggested that you did.
l was just asking a simple question.
lf you haven't any more simple questions on your mind, l'll be going on.
Of course. Don't let me detain you.
l think l'll have another piece of this pie.
You really should try it sometime, Mr. Carlson.
As l walked away, l could feel him watching me.
l was surprised to see his small eyes wary and suspicious.
There was no doubt about it. l was the idea.
l rode around on top of a bus for almost an hour.
l kept thinking about the dog and that white fur in those stained newspapers.
l knew l had to go to the garage and have another look at my car.
The garage seemed deserted.
Only one arc light cut the blackness and stretched silently ahead.
l passed the office booth and l first heard the voices.
There were two men and they were standing by my car.
lt was a soft voice, full of apple pie and suspicion
and wide awake on those two cups of coffee.
l was asking Joe about my car.
lt looked like he had something.
But l couldn't say it was a dog. lt might have been a cat.
But you're certain about the white fur.
Was there anything else you noticed?
No. No, l don't think...
Well, yeah, there was them newspapers.
At first l thought seeing how they were all stained,
that maybe he had put in them whatever he had, you know.
Excuse me, but somebody must be out there.
Well, well, Mrs. Carlson, glad you came in.
Perhaps you can clear up a few things for us.
Look, l don't know anything about the newspapers or the stain,
but l can tell you this much.
l never ran over a dog and l can prove it.
Well, then, that's all we're interested in.
l haven't taken the car out since l came to New York.
Joe here can tell you that.
Well, you did take it out once, Mr. Carlson, the night before last.
Are you crazy?
Well, gee, l'm sorry, Mr. Carlson,
but l remember you called me up and asked me to bring it around.
Here. Here. You can look at my record book.
You must have forgotten about it,
because, uh, nine o'clock, nine o'clock.
That must have been just about the time
the elevator boy took the dog for his walk.
From that time on, Soft Voice was after me.
l was his man, and he didn't miss a trick.
Now, you say you talked to Carlson last Saturday?
Yes, l was sitting out on the balcony.
Did he mention Mrs. Pondek in the conversation?
He heard her singing. She had an awful voice.
And he asked about her, whether she had a family or lived alone.
l don't remember anything else, but it was the oddest thing.
l mean, his suggesting strangling her, and now this.
Makes you think he's a man.
And Mr. Carlson came to your door the other night?
Yes. Yes, he was asking for some woman by the name of Violet.
At first, l never connected with Mrs. Pondek.
She seemed a bit old for him, but you never can tell.
Probably mutual interest in music.
Yeah, that's right. l came to get the girl.
l was just thinking about it.
l was thinking about it.
Yeah, that's right. l came to get the dog, and this Carlson guy opens the door.
But l don't think nothing of it.
Working on the elevator, you see a lot of that, you know.
Some of the stuff l could tell you.
lt was about this time that l began hearing those gales again.
They were so shrill and desperate, l thought everyone else must hear them too.
l even heard her on the elevator.
What are you staring at?
Nothing, Mr. Carlson. This is your floor.
Do you think the police will catch a guy who'd done it?
l don't know.
l figure it must have been somebody who knew her and been in her place.
Those old dames always go for the young guys.
l say, find her boyfriend, and you got the killer. Am l right?
Why ask me? How should l know?
You don't have to get sore, Mr. Carlson. l was just asking.
Well, what are you waiting for? Me?
Nothing.
Shut up. Stop it, do you hear me?
The concert's over.
Good evening, Mr. Carlson.
Oh.
l hope l didn't startle you, the elevator boy letting in.
Well, what's on your mind?
l just wanted to go over a few points with you.
Do you know anything about a resort called Orchard Beach?
lt's not far from here.
Yes, l stayed there for a couple of weeks last summer. Why?
Strange you never ran into Mrs. Pondekker.
She played in the summer theater there.
l told you l never saw her before l came here.
lf you're trying to pin this on me, you're wasting your time.
Look, how could l have planned this thing?
l never even knew l was coming here until Morley wrote me and asked me.
He'll tell you that.
Well, he can't seem to contact Mr. Morley.
You don't have his present address, do you?
Carl said there was something about a camping trip,
but he's bound to turn up in a couple of days and he'll set you straight on all this.
That is, if he turns up alive.
What do you mean by that?
l was just considering a possibility.
After all, if anything happened to Mr. Morley,
he couldn't back up your story and he couldn't deny it either, could he?
Well, l'll be getting along.
Night, let's go.
That night the scales were louder than ever.
They went on, over and over, echoing in the room,
shrill and urgent and l couldn't shut them out.
Shut up, do you hear me? Shut up!
What the devil's going on in here?
Morley.
Morley, good Lord, l thought you'd never turn up.
Well, l always say it's nice to be wanted,
but if l'm not too inquisitive, may l ask what you're doing in my place?
l'm waiting for you so you can tell him about that letter.
Letter?
The one you wrote when you asked me to come here.
Well, now, look, l don't care if you stayed here, but l didn't write you.
But you must have, Morley. l read the letter.
l tell you, l saw it. l held it in my hands.
lt was real.
All right, Carlson, don't be so tragic about it.
After all, it's not a matter of life and death.
lt certainly is.
Look, Morley, you don't know what's been going on here.
Ever since l got here...
The whole thing's got me nearly crazy.
That doesn't seem to be any way out.
Well, Carlson, there's no point in sitting out here on the balcony all night.
No.
Oh, l'll admit you're in a bad jam, but it's not hopeless.
They haven't arrested you.
lt's only a matter of time.
But they haven't any proof.
And l can tell the police l wrote that letter. l suppose l can.
Well, you'll have to be more convincing than that. No thanks.
An ex in the news, and l might as well face it.
Now, let's not be noble, Carlson. It's only a technicality.
l think l can make them believe me.
Too late now, they're here.
Who's here?
The police. The car just pulled up.
Are you sure?
Soft voice. Yeah.
And l don't like the way he's bouncing with so much energy.
Why should he come now?
Someone must have tipped him off your back.
He was anxious to see you as l was.
Morley, is there back stairs here?
Yes. Why?
l'm going to try to get out. lf it's my only chance, will you help me?
Sure. Certainly, Carlson. l'll show you where to go. l can at least do that.
l had to try. l couldn't just lie down and take that rap,
and there was no way under heaven l could escape it legally.
l followed Morley off the balcony when we got to his living room.
l was almost more than l could stand.
Because the singing started again, but not the scales this time.
Rose is a pickety.
Rose is a pickety. She was going to follow me all my life.
l almost dropped in my tracks.
l was going to follow her all my life.
l was going to follow her all my life. l almost dropped in my tracks.
Something, l guess you'd call it a hunch.
Something about the stiffness of Morley's back made me hang on.
Then Morley swung around.
lt was more than a hunch. Morley was sweating.
l decided to play it for all it was worth.
Who's that?
Who's what?
Don't you... don't you hear something?
What are you talking about?
Nothing. Come on, you'd better hurry.
Well, l... l don't know.
Hurry up, Carlson.
l don't know. Now that l think of it, l don't know.
But you said yourself!
Yeah, but all my life l'd be ducking the law for something l didn't do.
You said yourself at your only chance.
Yeah, but that'd be worse than being convicted.
Anyway, how could they convict me?
The evidence is all circumstantial.
There's an awful lot of evidence, Carlson.
The dog being killed by your car, the threat you made against her,
and the fact that she was there at Orchard Beach the same time she was there.
Yeah, that's a clincher, all right.
But how did you know?
Why, you...
How did you know l was at Orchard Beach? l never told you.
You haven't talked a soft voice yet.
Come on, Morley. Tell me how you did it.
Tell me how you killed Mrs. Pondekker.
You're out of your mind.
How did you get the car business fixed?
Did you disguise your voice and take the keys while l was out of the apartment?
That'd be simple enough to do.
Crazy.
And that sheet music on the balcony, did you plant it?
That's a beautiful frame-up.
lt's a shame to ruin it.
l don't have to ruin it. l can't...
Now, no. You can't kill me, Morley.
l'm your fuller guy.
Remember?
l can kill you in self-defense.
l can kill a murderer who's living in my apartment who's threatened me.
Unfortunately, the police didn't get here in time,
and in simple self-defense, l had to...
Oh, no.
Yeah, but they did get here in time, Morley.
Yes, Carlson. You're very lucky.
How much did you hear?
Enough. Enough.
He was a slick boy.
He had you measured for the new Soiree.
How did you get him to open up?
Well, in a way, l didn't. It was the roses of Picardy.
Roses of...
Well, l thought it was Mrs. Pondeker.
And when she started roses of Picardy, Morley thought so, too.
lt scared him green.
Scared him more than me.
You know, l thought everyone felt the same about Violet singing,
but not the little girl next door.
The only thing she had against Violet's voice was professional jealousy.
She thought her voice was better, but Violet could drown her out.
Listen.
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Well, someone else will have to strangle her.
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This is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines, the sponsor of Suspense.
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Macary Scott appeared through the courtesy of Warner Brothers Studios
and is currently appearing in Mildred Pierce.
Next Thursday, we bring you Lloyd Nolan in...
Suspense, radio's outstanding theater of thrills.
Presented by Roma Wines, R-O-M-A.
Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.