Auto Light and its 96,000 dealers present Suspense.
Tonight, Auto Light brings you The Lady in the Red Hat, a suspense play starring Mr.
Van Heflin.
Well, the way the woman was killed last night proves he's right.
What's the point of suppressing the articles?
Is there any doubt in your mind that this new murder was committed by the Avenger?
No, mine either.
So what?
All right, okay, Chief.
Oh, hello, Mitch.
Who's that, Chief Naylor?
Yeah, they want us to stop those articles you're writing.
Oh, what's the matter?
Well, it's not so much the Avenger as the way you keep harping on those theories you've
got about him.
Well, I think I'm right.
Well, you've got every woman in the city scared to death.
That's why I want you to lay off.
Five women have been murdered in three months and they're all wearing red in their clothes.
I say that means something and they want me to lay off.
Look, this isn't me.
We hired you to do a feature column in the Sunday Supplement because you've got a big
following.
Psychology of murder, it's a great idea but...
Excuse me.
Yeah.
Yeah?
Mr. Banning, is Mr. Mitchell in there?
Yeah.
Will you tell him that Housky is on the phone?
He's not a surgeon.
All right.
All right, switch the call in here.
Yes.
Use this phone, Mitch.
Thanks.
Hello.
Yes, Mrs. White.
Hello.
Thank you.
No, don't, don't worry, that's all right.
Yes, I won't be home until after midnight then.
Bye-bye.
Anything wrong?
I don't know.
I'll find out though, an anonymous note slipped under my door.
Somebody wants me to meet the Avenger at midnight.
In just a moment, Mr. Van Heflin, in the first act of The Lady in the Red Hat.
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Spark plug.
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hopes once again to keep you in suspense.
Good evening.
Oh, hi Mitch.
Well, I thought you were going to wait downstairs.
Yeah, I was, but Banning wanted to see me.
Nagler calling the police department, wanted me to stop my articles.
Oh, why?
Well, I'll tell you why we're eating.
Did they say anything about my stuff?
No, no, yours is straight reporting.
It's theorizing the objective.
Maybe I'm getting too close.
Have you written anything on last night's murder?
I'd like to read it.
I'll be writing it now, but if I did, I know what I'd say.
Have you got something new, Mitch?
Something new?
Maybe, I don't know yet.
Meet the Avenger at 12 o'clock, and the Avenger could be anyone.
Was she the one, this tall girl with long legs, smart, self-possessed, career woman with fresh-faced innocence?
We waited for the elevator.
I watched, and she was there with me, a smile on her lips.
We went to a place for dinner.
You know, Mitch, I love this place. My favorite hangout after work.
That's why I brought you here.
I was beginning to wonder why you've been so quiet.
There's subdued lights and warmth, is that it?
In a way.
Oh? Something else, too?
Mitch, what do you think about the Avenger?
Oh, I think he's fantastic.
Look, consider the name he...
Well, or she has given himself, the Avenger.
He probably wants to purge the world because of its sins.
What about that nonsense about the color red?
It means something, perhaps a sinful color, the obsession of red as a symbol, as a tie-up.
That makes me a marked woman, doesn't it?
You mean your scarf?
You gave it to me, remember?
That's right. I might be the man.
Yes, but why couldn't the Avenger be a woman?
She could.
What about Kate last night? The old woman, why kill her? She wasn't pretty, she was just old.
Rather obvious, she worked at the Follies.
But she was only a scrub woman.
But she worked there, sinful, there you are.
She carried a red purse, too.
Listen, I want to tell you something. Something big, even the editor doesn't know it.
A story?
These stories. Oh, can I have another drink?
Oh, I'm sorry. Mario?
I, um... I got an anonymous note this morning.
Note? That's a...
Yes, Mr. Mitchell?
Oh, uh, you want the same?
Yes, please.
And you, Mr. Mitchell?
No, nothing, thanks.
Yes, sir. By the way, when Lieutenant Dow comes in, will you show him over here to this table, please?
Yes, sir.
Bill Dow? He's on the Avenger case.
Mitchell, are you holding out on me?
You were speaking of a note, anonymous. Did it, um...
Did it say anything about the Avenger?
Yes, yes it did.
If I wanted important information about the Avenger, I was to go at midnight to the community chapel on seventh.
It's such a lonely old building...
Have you got that note with you?
No, I left it at home.
Oh? Did it tell you to sit in the first pew and wait?
You got one too.
This afternoon, under my door at home, the housekeeper called.
The same thing.
Queer, isn't it?
I wonder...
What?
Oh, this isn't an ordinary tip, Mitch. Don't you see? I've been working on the story for the standard.
You've been doing your series in the magazine section, Psychology of Murder.
Now supposing...
The Avenger sent those notes?
Well...
Bill Dow called me earlier. He wanted to see me.
Oh?
I said that I was taking you out for dinner. I told him to meet us here.
Why?
The lieutenant claims that he received a note, like ours too.
Was she the one? Or was Dow?
Millions of people in the city and the person next to you a killer.
You couldn't believe it was someone you knew.
Never anyone you knew, but maybe it was.
Was that then the ultimate stimulation? Had it come to that?
To kill a stranger was not enough.
Now seek out the danger, the extreme risk.
Because here was emotion. Emotion of friendship. This was different.
And who would it be? The girl on the newspaper? Or the policeman?
Are you being stubborn because you're a policeman or because you're just pig-headed, lieutenant?
Jeannie, you're a reporter. Too much imagination.
I still think it's a crackpot gag.
Then why did you come here?
Because Mitch and I have been working on this together. Because we're all friends.
I'm not taking any chances. There have been five murders already.
She makes sense though, Bill. Three of us all vitally interested in the case.
It'd be very flattering to him if we turned up at that chapel at midnight.
Well, I'll be there. I can tell you that.
I don't like it. He might be after one of us.
Maybe you, Jeannie. Maybe he doesn't like some of the stuff you've been doing.
Maybe me. Maybe. Or me. I'm the cop who's chasing him.
Yeah, I don't imagine he's particularly fond of you, Bill.
Why not surround the chapel? No.
Mind you, I still think it's a crank note. But if it isn't, this baby's too smart.
If he sees anything wrong, he'll get away.
I think Billy wants all the credit for a dramatic capture.
I'd have to share it with Mitch anyway.
And me. Uh-uh. You're going home.
That's what you think. I'm on that list.
I want to be there when something happens.
We had dinner in that little bar. Somehow, none of us wanted to leave.
Outside was the night, cold.
Through the window and on the pavement, we could see a cover of snow.
Snow, silent and clean.
I thought of a knife flashing, and then the snow, soft, absorbent, no longer, white, turning red, until it spread over the entire city.
The neon sign outside flashed red.
Red. Red.
Not our table, it was warm and candlelit.
Then we were outside and the snow was falling.
You know where the chapel is, Bill?
Yeah, it's the one on seventh around the corner from the library.
It's funny, I must have passed that a hundred times. I never noticed it.
Most people think it's vacant. It's not. In fact, it's open all night.
How do you know, Jeannie?
Well, I don't know. I guess I heard about it.
Okay, we'll walk.
Hiya. I always used to like the snow. I looked forward to it. I don't like it tonight.
I've never liked it. There's something smothering about this stuff.
I was in a blizzard once.
What happened?
I was lost in the woods up north, nearly froze to death.
Snow kept coming down, got in my mouth, my nose, my eyes.
And after a while, things didn't look white anymore.
They were blurred and red.
Which frightens you more, fear of being lost or fear of dying?
I don't know. Why?
Just wondered.
Has anybody got the time?
Yeah, it's eleven o'clock.
We stood outside the community chapel.
It was on a side street. I remember the lamppost with its light so much brighter than usual.
Everything was white, but not beautiful.
There was a murderer here.
In all of this great city, the murderer stood looking up at a church spire.
And who knew it?
We went up the broad steps, slowly.
Funny.
What is?
If one of us were killed here.
I'm going to have a look around, check any side doors.
All right.
You stay here, huh?
Yeah.
The music's nice.
There's the organist up there. See him?
Why are you looking at me like that?
Was I?
Yes.
Why?
Perhaps I was thinking how strange it would be if one of us were the Avenger.
The Avenger
Autolyte is bringing you Mr. Van Heflin with Joan Banks and Joseph Kearns in The Lady in the Red Hat.
Tonight's production in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspends.
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We stood there in the chapel looking at each other.
Now it had started. It had been said aloud.
What if one of us were a killer?
Not the ever-present shabby man seen by witnesses loitering on a lonely street,
but one of us?
If not Jean Grey, would she think it me?
Or Bill Dowell, a policeman?
It was an odd game, a game of fear.
Who'll kill Cockrobin?
The Avenger.
And who'll be Cockrobin?
One of us? The Avenger?
Oh, Mitch.
It has to be someone.
Why, I believe you're serious.
I am. We've all been on this case since the first death.
Perhaps one of us enjoys the publicity, the thrill of killing.
I don't like this place.
Better go home.
Gidders, Jeannie?
What did you find, Bill?
One side exit, that's all.
We can see it from the front pew.
What's the time?
About quarter past eleven.
I'm cold. I wonder if we could get some coffee.
I'll get it. You two stay here. How do you like yours?
Oh, black, please.
The same, Bill. Right.
Take it easy, Jeannie. It's not twelve yet.
You want to sit down?
Up in the front? No, not yet.
All right. Here.
Mitch.
You aren't serious, are you?
Yes. You've read my articles.
I've theorized about the Avenger.
The analysis could fit any one of us.
Me?
Why not?
You're fairly strong. You could have done it.
But the victims have all been women. Why should I kill a woman?
You like excitement, danger.
Your favorite color is red. You're a scarf, for instance.
Don't.
You're afraid to be touched?
No.
You like men, but you don't like them to touch you.
You like me, but...
That doesn't mean...
Ah, I'm right, aren't I?
Now, think of the five dead women.
All of them, in some way, concerned with what the Avenger considers sinful.
It could be you.
Or you. Or Bill.
No. I've thought about him. He had a...
There's a lot of reason to kill.
Did you know that he had a wife once he ran away with another man?
No.
Perhaps he doesn't like women very much now.
And it wouldn't be difficult for him to kill and get away with it.
Easier than for most people, because he's a policeman.
And you?
Perhaps I'm in love, in love with a girl that I can never have.
Because of that, I hate all women.
Funny, I never thought of you as in love.
Why not?
Because you're so...
So...
I don't know.
No. You don't know.
We sat alone with the music.
It was everywhere in the chapel.
Solemn, accusing.
The thoughts had been spoken.
Fear was creating suspicion.
And the girl with the red scarf tied about her head,
sitting with folded hands beside me,
looked in front of her and her eyes were on the front pew.
Sorry I was so long.
Anything happen?
No.
Oh, Jeannie.
Oh, thanks.
Seems wrong drinking coffee in a chapel.
Sinful, Jeannie.
Oh, stop it. That's not what I meant.
To Mitch.
Thanks.
Uh, what's the time, Bill?
Eleven thirty.
Is that all?
I see our friend at the organ's still there.
Yeah.
Funny hour to practice.
Mitch.
Hmm?
I heard what you said to Jeannie before.
I mean, about one of us being the Avenger.
Were you kidding?
No.
It's crazy.
Why? It's got to be somebody.
Why not one of us?
Oh, he's got brilliant reasons.
Ask him, we all fit.
Not a joke anymore, Mitch.
I know.
The trouble with you, Bill, is that you think you have to look
for some poor devil frothing at the mouth
with his hands covered with blood.
Must a murder always look like a comic book conception of a murder?
Cut it out.
You're not funny.
I'm not trying to be.
I think it more than probable that one of us could be the Avenger.
We're normal, moderately attractive people,
but one of us thinks differently.
Which one?
Hmm.
Ha, ha, ha.
Ha.
You're a nut.
Maybe.
We drank our coffee.
There was an animal awareness now,
each of us watching the other, cautious, wondering.
We spoke of Christmas, sailing, next year's Dodgers.
We spoke of everything but the Avenger and of 12 o'clock.
Hey.
What?
When did the organists leave?
What?
I don't know.
The lights.
There's only one up there.
We must have turned the others out.
It'd be hard to see anybody coming in from the front pew.
Well?
Well, I'm going to take a look, see if he's still around.
No.
Why, you're not afraid to be alone with me, are you?
Don't be an idiot.
If anyone comes in, stay in the shadows.
It's nearly 12.
Might as well get in your places.
I'll be right back.
I guess... I guess we'd better...
The front pew?
Yes, those were the instructions.
Quiet without the music.
Too quiet.
It was nice.
There were so many shadows.
Shadows in a chapel?
Well, that shouldn't be frightening.
Will Bill be able to see us when he comes back?
I think so.
Do you think it's him?
Do you?
What's the time?
It's about three minutes to.
How would he find the lights?
I don't mind it.
Strange.
What?
When I was very young, I was in a place like this.
Very much like this.
Oh?
I was taken every week, and every week there was a woman who sat across the aisle.
She was beautiful.
I was in love with her.
Nobody ever talked to her.
My mother hated her, but not my father.
Do you know what I found out?
No.
It was after my father left us.
He had been in love with that woman all that time.
They ran away together.
How terrible.
Yeah.
Yeah, I thought so at the time.
What tiny things one remembers.
She always wore a red hat.
She was beautiful.
But she must have been very wicked.
A red hat?
Where I lived, they used to say that it was the shock of his leaving that killed my mother.
Poor Janie.
Give me your hand, Janie.
No, no.
Here, cold.
Don't. Please don't.
You're like her. You look like her.
You even wear red.
Because that's your favorite color.
Mitch. Mitch.
I'm in love with you.
And it's so wrong.
I've been in love with you ever since I met you.
But it's wrong. You're bad.
You're like her.
Don't scream. Don't.
Mitch. Mitch. It's all right.
I understand.
I'm sorry that music stopped.
We've got to have music.
There was always the organ playing at home.
Come along, Janie.
Where are we going?
Upstairs to the organ loft.
Now don't, don't, don't scream. Please.
Mitch. Janie.
Don't say anything.
Don't.
I won't. I won't, Mitch.
You're not well. I'm glad you told me.
I love you too.
You must believe me. I love you.
Mitch. Please.
She was a clever devil.
Trying to win me over with talk of love.
I wasn't going to take any chances with her.
We went up the narrow steps to where the organ was.
I closed the door behind us.
I didn't need my knife.
I could smash her with my hands.
Smash her. Pound the evil flat.
Stamp it out on the floor.
The other five were bad. They'd sin, but she,
she was like that woman at home.
The woman in the red hat.
I knew what had to be done with her.
I'd known that from the day that I'd met her.
Tall with long legs, fresh face, masking wickedness.
Mitch. Janie. Where are you?
Please. Please.
Stay down there, Bill. Don't, don't come up.
I've got her. You stay there.
I found her out. I've known all the time.
She's got to die. You know that, Bill.
I'm coming up, Mitch. It's okay.
We'll take her in together.
That's why I sent those notes, Bill.
I, I had to trap her. You understand?
Sure. Sure.
I'm, I'm right, aren't I?
You're dead right, Mitch.
I'll open the door. We'll take her in together.
No, stay, stay out there, Bill.
I don't need your help. I can do it.
Mitch, Mitch, you're sick. But it's all right.
I'll make you better because I love you.
How do you turn this thing on?
Must be a switch.
No, no, don't, don't, don't go near that door, Janie.
Mitch, open the door.
Here's one.
Mitch.
Open it.
A minute.
Don't worry. She won't hurt me. Not anymore.
Mitch, please.
Whatever I've done to you, I'm sorry.
You're the woman.
You're always the woman in red, but not anymore.
I'll be all right now.
Play. There has to be music.
There was music at home at my mother's funeral.
Play.
I can't.
Play it.
I don't know how to.
Play. Play.
Louder. Louder, louder.
Louder.
Mitch.
Drop that knife. Drop it.
Bill.
Bill.
Turn it off. Turn it off.
The music, stop it.
Stop it. It's killing me.
It's killing me.
Suspense presented by Auto Light.
Tonight's star, Mr. Van Heflin.
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Next week on Suspense, Mr. Ray Melland as star of After the Movies.
And in weeks to come, you will hear such famous stars as Alan Ladd,
Dennis Day, and Cornell Wilde, all appearing in tales well calculated
to keep you in suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis,
with music composed by Lucian Moraweck and conducted by Lud Bluskett.
The Lady in the Red Hat was written by Clock Daily
and was adapted for Suspense by Anthony Ellis.
Van Heflen can soon be seen in Universal International's
Technicolor production Tomahawk, co-starring Yvonne de Carlo.
And remember, next week on Suspense, Mr. Ray Melland in After the Movies.
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Switch to Auto Light. Good night.
The familiar kettle bells are starting to ring on the street corners of America.
The Salvation Army again appeals for your help.
Make this Christmas a merry one for the unfortunate.
Contribute to the charitable work of the Salvation Army.
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