And now, tonight's presentation of radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Tonight, we bring you a story of the death of a postman and the search for a missing
letter.
We call it, The Seventh Letter.
So now, starring Stacy Harris, here is tonight's Suspense play, The Seventh Letter.
Colonel 32 requests detectives at corner Hatteras and Roblar streets.
Notify the coroner.
The place, a suburban residential area near a large city in Southern California.
At the time, 4.15 a.m.
The body of a man had been found by a police patrol unit.
The body was dressed in the blue gray of the post office department.
And a truck belonging to that department was at the curb.
A letter box nearby had been unlocked and stood open.
Six letters from that box were on the sidewalk near the body.
The postman had been on a collection run.
Someone had stopped him from completing that run by placing a knife in his back.
Ninety seconds after the police officer contacted communications, the message was relayed to
a divisional detective bureau.
Why don't you tell me what's going on, Jim?
Yes.
I've already told you.
Yeah, I've got it.
I don't believe that, Larch.
Hatteras and Roblar.
I'm not sure.
Right.
Now, come on, Larch.
Tell me, what were you doing in that alley?
I told you I couldn't sleep, so I took a walk.
In an alley at 3.30 in the morning?
I was on my way home when those officers...
Now, don't lie to me, mister.
You know what you were doing behind those houses, don't you?
I wasn't doing anything.
Were the lights on in any of them?
I didn't know...
Now, come on, level with me, mister.
I am.
Lieutenant.
In a minute.
Larch, how long have you been married?
Two years.
Practically a newlywed, huh?
How's your wife gonna feel about you now?
Please, I've never been in any trouble.
Say before.
What?
Before.
Say it.
Before.
Okay, now you're learning.
What is it, sir?
The hot one just came in.
We'd better roll.
All right, have Johnson book this peeping talk.
No, please, I've got a family.
I've got responsibilities.
Let's go, mister.
Please.
I'll meet you out in the hall.
I was only taking a walk.
You can explain it to the court in the morning.
You don't believe me either, do you?
It doesn't matter what I believe.
The lieutenant said book you.
Hey, Johnson?
Yeah?
I'll pray for him.
What?
The lieutenant, I'll pray for him.
What's the charge, Saul?
Bag, prowler.
Empty your pockets, mister.
Put your stuff on the counter.
Everything?
Everything.
Saul, what have we got?
Thirty-two, found a body.
Lieutenant, you really think you should book that man?
He wasn't on private property.
No one called in to complain.
Tomorrow morning, he'll walk out of here congratulating himself.
And tomorrow night, he'll be back on his window route.
What makes you so sure?
Saul, you ever committed a felony?
No.
You ever want to do?
Well, oh.
Everybody has.
What stopped you?
I guess I was afraid I'd be caught.
Well, that's what keeps most of them in line.
The rest are too dumb to be afraid of the law.
They got a wire crossed.
Figured they'd get out smarted.
But nobody's completely honest, huh, Lieutenant?
Nobody, Saul.
Oh, come on.
Now, you don't really expect them to...
Look, when you've been here a while, you won't argue with me.
Where's that body at?
Hatteras and Roblar.
What?
What's the matter?
I live on Hatteras.
It's just a block from that corner.
The time, 4.43 a.m.
Lieutenant Joseph Carter and Sergeant Saul Morris arrived at the suburban intersection.
A few minutes later, a unit from the department's crime lab arrived,
followed by a postal inspector.
By checking the collection times indicated on the mailbox,
the time of death was set at 2.55 a.m.
The uniformed officers searched the area, but the murder weapon was not found.
The time, 5.07 a.m.
You find out anything, Mac?
Yeah, Lieutenant.
Lots of sound sleepers in this neighborhood.
Well, is that all?
That's it.
Nobody heard nothing.
Okay.
Thanks.
Saul?
Coming, Lieutenant.
Yeah.
Well, how about it? Where's his ID?
The coroner got it off his driver's license.
Here.
Henry R. Gilligan, 1914, West Latham, age 52.
Case of accident, notify Elizabeth Gilligan.
Well, see if somebody does that, I saw.
Yes, sir.
Oh, do you have anything else in his pockets?
Just the usual keys, cigarettes, matches, some money.
How much?
$17 and some change.
Oh, Lieutenant.
Yes, Inspector?
The crime lab boys want to take those letters downtown.
Well, that's your department.
Oh, it's all right.
But you can't hold up the mail, you know.
I'll have to have them back this afternoon.
You'll have them.
How many letters did you find?
Six.
Any of them have a return address on the envelope?
Oh, but one.
I made a list of the letters,
where they were going to and the five return addresses.
Well, I'd appreciate a copy if it isn't too much trouble.
Oh, no, no, no, no trouble at all.
I'll do it right away.
Okay to take the body in?
Yeah, I can have him.
All right, come on, you guys.
It doesn't look 52.
I guess that's from being outside so much.
Yeah.
Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers.
What's that?
Something a Greek historian wrote.
Oh.
Yeah, it's starting to get light.
Yeah.
You want a cigar?
No, thanks.
You see that white picket fence down there?
Yeah, I believe I do.
At your place?
Mm-hmm.
A boy and I painted that fence last Sunday.
Sure seems funny.
A murder in a section like this.
Oh, how do you mean?
Well, it's such a nice, quiet neighborhood.
That's what we're looking for.
Nice, quiet killer.
After a final word with the postal inspector,
the two detectives drove slowly through the nearby streets.
Another mailbox was located three blocks from the intersection of Hatteras and Roblar.
At 5.52 a.m., they checked back into division headquarters.
All right, Saul, let's get on that report, huh?
Right.
I sure can't figure out why anybody would want to kill a poson.
No?
You got an angle?
Johnson?
Yeah, Lieutenant?
Who's the screamer?
His name's Gillis.
Narcotics picked him up a few minutes ago.
The doc's looking him over.
Hope they don't keep him down here all night.
They won't.
Saul?
Mm?
Saul, suppose you'd mailed a letter down there last night, after the 8.30 pickup.
Yeah?
Long about midnight, you decided you wanted it back.
What would you have done?
Well, I'd have been there at 2.55 and asked Gilligan to return it to me.
Except you wouldn't have given it back to you.
Once a letter's mailed, it's against postal regulations to return it.
Mm-hmm.
Well, then I'd have forgotten about it.
Would you?
Or would you have killed to get it back?
Ah, no, Lieutenant.
What could anybody write in a letter that'd be that important?
I don't know, Saul.
I don't know, but somebody does.
You think that's what happened?
Well, what else could it be?
Seven letters were mailed, Saul.
The person that mailed the seventh was waiting there when Gilligan arrived.
He saw Gilligan take the mail out of the box, and he approached him, asked him for his letter.
Gilligan refused to give it to him.
They argued, and one thing led to another, and the knife ended the argument.
The mail was rifled, the letter found.
Whoever did it went home to bed.
It sounds good.
It is good.
Look, we know six people mail letters in that box.
We've got the letters, right?
Yeah.
Okay.
We find the person that mailed that seventh letter.
We've got our killer.
By checking the city directory, they made a list of the families living in the area
nearest the mailbox at Hatteras and Roblar.
The list was then sent to the records bureau, where a make was run on every person on it
between the ages of 14 and 70.
After being relieved by the day watch, Carter reported to his superior and advanced his theory
concerning the death of the postman.
He was told to check it out.
The time, 8.24 a.m.
Joe?
Yeah, Louise?
We're in the kitchen.
Clark, we heard all about it on the news.
Oh, it's home.
Yeah, boy, I'm running right in our own block.
Are you going to catch him?
I'm going to try.
You know who did it?
Bobby.
Sit down and finish your breakfast.
Oh, golly.
You want to eat before you go to bed, Joe?
Not going to bed this morning.
You're not?
Hmm.
When you going to sleep?
Tonight.
I've been put on days a while.
So you can catch the murderer, huh?
Boy, I hope you get it before money so I can kill all the kids at school.
Bobby, if you're finished, go outside and play.
Oh, Pop.
Bobby, Jimmy's out in his backyard.
Okay, Mom.
If you promise, you'll look around for my scout knife.
All right, dear, I'll look.
See you later, Pop.
Maybe Jimmy and me will go down to the corner and see the blood.
Here's your coffee, Joe.
Thanks.
If you want anything besides a cereal, you'll have to fix it.
What's the matter?
Same old thing.
Another one of your headaches?
Mm-hmm.
Did you call the doctor?
Yeah, I have an appointment at nine.
Margaret's taking me.
Hmm.
Margaret Richards?
Yeah.
Joe, if you're going to take off your coat, take that gun off, too, will you?
Put it somewhere.
All right.
Now, what'd you do last night?
Bobby and I went over to Mrs. Gaither's for a while.
She was having one of those cooking-ware parties.
What time did you get to sleep?
About three.
I was reading.
You better start getting more rest or you'll wind up back in that sanitarium.
What do you want me to do, Joe?
Just sit here every night with my hands folded?
I'm tired of looking at these walls.
Okay, okay.
You're never home except to sleep.
Even when you are, you don't take me out.
All right, all right, forget it, huh?
Hand me the milk, will you?
Thanks.
When you get back, I got a list I want you to take a look at.
What list is that?
Suspects.
Suspects.
You know most of them.
Let me see it now.
Oh, yeah.
John and Nancy Robinson, Bert and Margaret Rick.
But Joe, these are neighbors, friends of ours.
One of them killed that postman.
If you believe that, you shouldn't be on this case.
Well, why not?
Because of Bobby and me.
We live here too, you know.
You can't make a friend one day and have your husband suspect him of being a criminal the next.
One of them has done big time.
I don't believe it.
Well, ask your friend, Bert Richards.
Bert?
Margaret's husband?
He did two years for assault.
Are you sure?
Sure, I'm sure.
I ran a make on all of them.
When was he in?
Four years ago.
Then Margaret knows.
She's never told me.
I want you to ask Margaret if Bert mailed a letter after her.
Eight thirty last night.
What if he did?
Well, we found six letters down at the corner.
I think seven were mailed.
I've got to go.
Well, you asked for a phone?
I'm coming, Margaret.
Louise?
I don't know, Joe.
I don't know. I'll have to think about it.
Hi.
Well, Louise, you don't look sick.
Well, I'm not really sick.
Oh, my God.
Pop?
I'm in here, Bobby.
Jimmy Claymore and me went down the corner.
He wasn't no blood or nothing.
I know.
How do you think you're going to catch that murderer, Pop?
You got a plan?
Yeah.
Boy, I sure wish I could help you.
Well, maybe you can, Bobby.
If you really want to.
If I want to?
Pop!
Okay, okay.
Now, you've got to promise not to talk about any of this to anybody.
Oh, I promise. God's honor.
Okay. That's fine, Bobby.
What do you want me to do first?
Well, I've got to find out a few things about our neighbors, Bob.
Like what?
Well, like...
Jimmy's father worked nights and days.
Days. He switched over a couple months ago.
Mm-hmm.
Why don't you ask Jimmy if his father mailed a letter late last night, huh?
A letter?
Why?
Because I've got to know the name of every person who was near that corner between 8.30 last night and 2.55 this morning.
Oh. In case somebody saw the killer, huh, Pop?
That's right, son.
Well, if somebody did, don't you think he'd come and tell you?
Might not.
Might be afraid to.
Oh, yeah.
Okay, I'll ask him. Only...
Only what, Bobby?
Well, I already know somebody who went down to that corner late last night.
Oh? Who?
Mom.
Your mother?
What'd you go down there for?
To mail a letter?
You are listening to The Seventh Letter, tonight's presentation in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Music
on a group of corrupt officials tomorrow night at this time.
Remember, the FBI in Peace and War is yours to hear every Wednesday night over most of these same stations.
And now we bring back to our Hollywood soundstage, Stacy Harris, starring in tonight's production, The Seventh Letter,
a tale well calculated to keep you in...
Suspense.
The time, 8.47 a.m.
After learning that his wife had left the house late the night before to mail a letter,
Carter checked the list of the six letters found near the postman's body.
The time of the letters held a return address.
The sixth was addressed to a Mr. James Young in care of a local hotel.
Carter had never heard of Mr. Young.
Time, 9.57 a.m.
Louise Carter and her friend, Margaret Richards, had left the doctor's office and entered a nearby drug store.
Want some cream in your coffee, Margaret?
With this figure? No, thanks.
I wish I could gain a few pounds.
The doctor does, too.
What'd he say? Are you all right?
Yes, yes. He says I worry too much.
Oh, don't we all?
Louise, is Joe investigating that murder?
Yes. He's working with the Homicide Department on it.
Well, Burt wanted me to ask you. He's got a crazy idea. He might be a suspect.
Burt? Well, for heaven's sakes, why?
Well, I...
Look, Louise, I never told this to another soul in our neighborhood.
If you weren't my dearest friend, I'd never...
You can trust me. You know you can.
Well, a few years ago, Burt got into a fight.
When he was getting the worst of it, he picked up a bottle to defend himself.
Of course, he didn't hurt anybody with it, but they arrested him just the same.
How long was he in?
Just overnight. Just as soon as they knew all the circumstances, but they even apologized.
Oh. Well, if it wasn't serious.
Of course it wasn't. But try and convince Burt.
See, he's afraid Joe will find out about that and, you know, get the wrong idea.
Well, you tell Burt he hasn't a thing to worry about.
Oh, thanks, honey.
As a matter of fact, Joe's looking for someone who mailed a letter in that box last night.
A letter?
Mm-hmm. What is it?
I sent Burt down to mail a letter just after midnight.
Ten fifteen a.m. Carter checked with the homicide men assigned to the case.
Mrs. Gilligan had been unable to furnish them with any possible motive for her husband's murder.
And according to her, Gilligan had had no known enemies.
The autopsy report showed that the wound had been made by a pocket or a switchblade knife.
Ten forty-seven a.m. Carter arrived at the crime lab.
He was joined there by the postal inspector.
They were informed that none of the envelopes had held a clear set of fingerprints.
Eleven oh five. They examined the letter addressed to James Young.
Certainly nothing distinctive about the envelope, is there?
No. Inspector, could you open it, please?
Oh, sure.
Looks like a greeting card of some kind.
I hope it's one of those funny ones.
Here you are.
Happy birthday from Uncle Burt and Aunt Margaret.
Well, that isn't very original. Is it any help, Lieutenant?
Lieutenant?
No, it's not very original.
Is it any help?
Oh, no.
Well, that's the way it goes.
I might as well put these letters in my briefcase.
I didn't know Gilligan, but some of the boys who did thought the best of him.
They can't imagine why anyone would want to kill him.
No.
Neither can I. We're all hoping to catch the person who did it.
Yeah.
Are you ready, Inspector?
Yes, indeed. You call us any time.
We'll always do our best to help.
There was no doubt left in his mind now.
He knew who had written the seventh letter.
The time? 12.01 p.m.
He arrived home.
Louise?
Hi, Pop.
Where's your mother? Is she back yet?
No, she'll be home soon. She called a few minutes ago.
What are you taking everything out of your dresser for?
I'll put it all back.
Just don't forget.
Hey, Pop.
Yeah?
Have you seen my scout knife?
My senior what?
My scout knife. Mom promised to help me find it, but she never did.
No, when'd you lose it?
Oh, I don't know. We have a troop meeting this afternoon. I want...
Hey, is that Mom?
Bobby, if it is your mother.
Yeah, I'll ask her.
Bobby, wait. Come here.
Yeah?
Look, I've got something important to say to your mother.
But this is important too. Our meeting's at 1.30.
Bobby!
You want to help me catch that murderer, don't you?
Well, sure.
Then you stay here, son.
Oh, Joe, I didn't know you were home. Where's Bobby?
He's in his room.
The doctor gave me another prescription. Some pills for my nerves.
And you... you should have heard Margaret lying about Bert.
I heard he was only in jail overnight.
You asked her about it, didn't you?
Yes.
Did she say anything about him mailing a letter last night?
Yes.
Well, did he?
She said that he did, yes.
Hmm. Looks like he killed that man, doesn't it?
Does it? I won't change my dress.
Did you fix Bobby any lunch?
No.
Do you want anything?
Not now.
Louise?
Hmm?
What could be written in a letter that would be worth a man's life?
Really, Joe, I haven't time to play games.
This is no game.
Well, I... I don't know.
You're lying.
Joe.
You mailed a letter last night.
No.
Don't lie to me, Louise. Bobby told me you didn't.
Bobby told you?
You questioned Bobby about me?
I was one of your suspects, but instead of coming to me, you questioned Bobby?
Louise, tell me about the letter.
All my life I've heard that a man had to have something wrong with him to want to be a cop,
but I never believed it till now.
Now, this morning...
This morning you knew what I was looking for, but you didn't open your mouth.
Just now you were going to let me believe Burt Richards killed that man,
and we both know who did.
No.
You know something about it?
Come on, Louise, what was in that letter?
I didn't mail any letters.
Now, get Bobby in here. I'll find out which one of you is lying.
Joe, wait!
I... I went out to mail it.
I told Bobby I was going to, but I...
I changed my mind before I got to the corner.
Is that the truth?
If it isn't, you'd beat it out of me, wouldn't you?
Where's the letter now?
It's in my purse.
Is this it?
Yes.
It's to your sister.
I wish I'd mailed it.
Dear Belle,
just a note to let you know I understand and appreciate your thoughts about Joe and me.
But it's too late, too many things have happened.
I've made up my mind to leave him.
You've what?
Here. Come on.
You finish reading it.
No.
Please.
Go on, read it.
For a while just after I came out of the sanitarium...
Go on, Louise, go on.
Joe was his old self, but that lasted only a few days.
It's hard for me to tell you about Joe and the way he treats me.
But his only love is his job and the power that goes with it.
He hasn't time for me or for Bobby.
He's forgotten how to be a husband.
Oh, Joe, I can't.
Hello.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Are you sure?
Are you sure?
Okay.
Thanks for calling.
I found out who killed the postman.
It's a man named Gillis, an addict. He decided to talk after being off the stuff all day.
Last night he thought he was being tailed, so he dropped some stuff he was holding into the mailbox
and when he went back to get it, the postman refused to give it to him.
Louise, I don't suppose there's anything I can say?
No.
You sure it's too late? I mean, there's just no chance at all?
Why didn't you mail that letter last night?
Mom!
I told you, Joe, I changed my mind.
Why?
Why? What was the reason?
Mom, aren't you going to help me find my knife?
Don't you know, Joe? Or have you forgotten about him too?
Come on, Bobby dear, I'll help you.
Suspense.
In which Stacey Harris starred in tonight's presentation of The Seventh Letter.
Be sure to listen again next week when we bring you another presentation of Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills.
Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed in Hollywood by Anthony Ellis.
Tonight's story was written by Charles B. Smith.
The music was composed by Lucian Morrowak and directed by Wilbur Hatch.
Stated in the cast were John Dana, Harley Fair, Victor Perrin, George Walsh, Vivi Janis, Richard Beals, Paula Winslow, and Jim Nusser.
The life of an insurance investigator may be dangerous, but it's thrilling too.
And you can hardly blame yours truly, Johnny Dollar, for pursuing his unusual career.
Nor can anyone blame you for following Johnny Dollar as he moves around from clue to clue until every case of mayhem or fraud that he tackles is finally solved.
Five nights a week, yours truly, Johnny Dollar, will keep you in a state of high suspense as he ferrets out the chisllers, the crooks, and even the killers who think they have executed a perfect crime.
Don't miss a single exciting chapter of Johnny's current case.
Listen for yours truly, Johnny Dollar, every Monday through Friday night over most of these same stations.
Stay tuned for five minutes of CBS News to be followed on most of these same stations by My Son Jeep.
America listens most to the CBS Radio Network.
The end.
The end.