And now, another tale well calculated to keep you in...
Suspense.
What is it like for a man to know his own future and to be able to prepare for his own
fatal accident?
Welcome now to The Time, The Place, and The Death, written by Peter Fernandez.
There it is again, Signor.
There it is.
Yes, yes, the Ace of Spades.
Never have I seen anything more positive.
Three times through the cards and they turn up in the same sequence.
This then is a warning to me.
Oh no, Signor, this is a fact.
This is a prediction of the inevitable.
No.
But you have seen for yourself three times.
Yes, that's true.
But to die now in the prime of life in perfect health?
Who can dispute fate?
I am sorry, Signor, but you are fortunate that you know now.
Do not question further.
Accept you will be happier.
Accept?
Happy?
To know that very soon I will cease to live?
Happy to know that only about two weeks are all that remain to me of this exquisite life?
Would you care to go through the cards again, Signor?
No, no, thank you.
How much do I owe you?
No, no charge.
Instead, I wish to offer you my deepest thanks.
Why Henry.
Good afternoon, Irene.
How nice to see you, and on a Tuesday.
Tuesday isn't one of your usual days.
I trust I'm not causing you any inconvenience by dropping in unexpectedly like this.
I'm quite alone, Henry.
Good.
I have some sensational, some marvelous news for you, my dear.
And amusing, I'd say, from that smile you can't quite conceal.
My dear Irene, have you ever wondered where and under what circumstances you will die
Henry, what a funny question.
I don't intend to be funny.
Oh, you know what I mean.
Irene.
Yes, dear.
I am going to die.
Oh, Henry, you paid some gypsy to tell you that, and I would have told you for nothing.
Everybody dies eventually.
I mean that I'm going to die sometime in the very near future.
This card, this Ace of Spades is my proof.
This card, this exact card turned up three times this afternoon, three times, following
a sequence of other cards which also was revealed three times.
It's a fact, Irene.
I'm going to die very soon.
Oh, my poor, poor Henry.
Sympathy?
You fail to comprehend, Irene.
As a matter of fact, it took me a while to get used to it, but now don't you see I've
never been happier.
How could you possibly be happy?
Because I've never been able to face the future blindly, I've always sought oracular advice,
and I'm happy that I know my death will be soon.
Now I must also know the details.
The details?
Henry, you're giving me the shudder.
May I have a pencil and some paper?
Yes, yes, of course.
When I was 22 years old, quite some time ago, I visited my first fortune teller.
Invest all your money in AT&T, she told me, where I'd saved about $700 and I invested
it.
I'm now worth considerably more than that.
I know you are, darling.
Okay, here's your paper and pencil.
Thank you.
Then there have been numerous romantic interludes during which I've dallied with the temptation
of marriage, but in every instance, my dear Irene, I've been saved by a seer.
Unfortunately.
What are you writing there, Henry?
A list.
There are so many possibilities of how I'll die, I'd like to consider them.
But this is all I have so far.
Number one, accident.
I mean, no matter how carefully one crosses the streets these days, he risks his life.
The strong possibility.
Number two, crime.
I'm a gentleman of considerable means.
Oh, yes, indeed, darling.
But isn't that list rather unnecessary, Henry?
After all, if you want to be absolutely certain of just how you'll die, why don't you commit
suicide?
What an absurd suggestion.
Then pay someone to do the job.
Irene.
Oh, well, frankly, dear, I think you should forget the whole thing.
No, I'd better be going and I'll take this list.
I can add to the possibilities as they occur to me.
Now here, my dear, take this money.
Why, Henry?
It should be sufficient to buy an attractive dress which you must wear to my funeral.
Good afternoon, Irene.
Good afternoon, Henry.
In just a moment, we will return for the concluding act of...
Suspense.
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Who's that?
What's going on?
Miss Chippendale?
Miss Chippendale?
You're right, sir.
Yes?
Yes, what is it, Rudy?
Come here quick.
Bring some water.
Your gentleman friend had an accident.
Oh my goodness, they're coming, Rudy.
Please, sir, please, it's all my fault.
I should have fixed that step.
Please, sir.
Is he dead, Rudy?
I don't think so.
I don't think so.
I don't think so.
I don't think so.
I don't think so.
I don't think so.
I don't think so.
I don't think so.
He told me something like this would happen.
Not two minutes ago, he told me.
Oh, here, there's water for my vase of flowers.
Oh, his eyes are open.
Here, sit.
Sit up, sit up.
Oh, thank you.
Henry, are you all right?
Irene?
Yes, dear.
Have I died?
Oh, thank goodness, no, Henry.
Now, you see, that ace of spades was wrong after all.
I don't think it was.
It's that fourth step from the landing.
When the weather is damp, it warps and the edge sticks out a little.
Some other people have tripped on that step, but I thought...
Well, then why haven't you fixed it, Rudy?
You're the janitor.
Oh, I've tried, Miss Chippendale, but the lumberyard was out of the right kind of wood.
My list.
I don't need it now.
I know everything now.
I know the place and the circumstances.
You do?
Yes.
I'm going to die as a result of that fault in the stairway.
What?
Really, Henry?
Don't you see, fate has given me a warning.
The rest is up to me.
I must now fix the date and arrange the details for afterwards.
Having escaped death once under such miraculous conditions, I'll never escape a second time.
Why, imagine just an inch or two from that knob.
The lumberyard said they're getting a shipment in next week.
Then I can fix that step.
If you do, my good man, you'll have to answer to me.
What?
Good afternoon.
But it's impossible, Henry.
Nobody can foretell the future, except perhaps the weatherman, and you know how accurate
he is.
Take my advice and forget all about it.
Oh, it's your shot.
My dear friend, I've received a warning, which I believe.
I'm in a very enviable position.
I'm now able to arrange a suitable date for my death.
It can be any day upon which I decide, and the appointment must be kept.
Ah.
Oh, good shot, Henry.
Tomorrow, no, tomorrow's too soon, but next Friday.
Ah, Friday.
That would be a fine day on which to die.
Next Friday isn't any good, Henry.
Why not?
That's my usual day for visiting Irene.
Oh, but of course.
How forgetful of me.
Well, I don't wish to die on Saturday.
There are too many interesting parties I might attend.
Sunday.
The day will be Sunday.
Perfect.
They can bury me on Wednesday.
Oh, another good shot, Henry.
Now I must see my lawyer about a will at once.
I'm leaving almost everything to dear Irene.
Oh, you are?
Well, I can't leave a penny less.
No, no, of course not, of course not.
And then I must arrange for the funeral, the burial, so many last minute details.
Perhaps I won't have time ever to see you again unless you can be in Irene's apartment
with her next Sunday for our farewell.
Well, I...
In fact, Joseph, I'd like you to be there at, shall we say, 5.30.
I'll descend the stairs to my death at 5.52.
Yes, fives and twos always have been benevolent numbers for me.
Yes, yes.
I'll be there, my dear Henry.
And on Wednesday, of course, you'll attend my funeral.
Of course, of course.
And I shall mourn for you deeply.
Splendid.
The funeral will be at 3 o'clock.
Oh, 3 o'clock.
Oh, but, but, but, but, Henry, that's the afternoon they'll be judging the terriers at
the Westminster.
And I've registered both Tristan and East Alder.
Oh, no, no, no, I'm dreadfully sorry, but I just can't.
I am sorry too, Joseph, but at least can I expect you to be at Irene's on Sunday?
On, on Sunday?
Oh, yes, Henry, yes.
I shall be there.
Good evening, Irene.
Joseph, it's so late.
May I come in?
Of course.
Oh, my darling.
Irene, my love.
I'm so very glad to see you.
Irene, I just left Henry.
He thinks he's going to die.
I know all about it.
Another one of his fortunes.
But, but he's going to make all the arrangements.
He, he actually believes it.
Well, it's possible, you know.
I've heard of stranger things.
But, but, dear, is this...
Hold me, Joseph.
Hold me.
Hold me closely.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
Like this?
Mmm.
Now, listen to me, Irene.
When Henry dies, he'll leave all his money to you.
How do you know that?
He told me.
He told me that he's having his will drawn up.
When he dies, you'll be a rich woman, Irene.
Oh, that's such a vague possibility, Joseph.
When he dies.
You mean if he dies.
Irene, he will die.
You sure?
I need his money as much as you do.
I'm going to make sure.
Joseph.
On the day he has planned for his death, we will kill him.
Oh, Joseph.
How?
Poison.
He will come here to descend those stairs.
We will have a drink.
A final sad farewell drink.
His will be well laced with arse-making.
But the police will know.
That his drink was poison, of course.
Good.
That's what we want.
Because he will have made all those preparations.
They will decide that he committed suicide.
There'll be no way for them to know otherwise.
What do you think now?
I think, my darling, that you and I will both someday soon be very, very wealthy.
Yes sir, is there some way I can help you?
Or would you rather look around?
I wish to order one of these.
Oh, yes sir.
Is there any special kind of wood you desire?
If only I knew what kind of wood that stairway is made of.
That might be rather suitable.
Ah, but it too might warp.
I desire mahogany.
I'll just write this down.
Yes, and the trimming, sir.
Silver.
I want a first-class funeral.
Very well.
$2,000 certainly will take care of everything, sir.
Excellent.
I'll make you out a check for the amount right now.
Oh, that's perfectly all right, sir.
Just a deposit will be sufficient.
You can mail the balance to us later.
But I won't be able to later.
You see, the coffin and the service are for myself.
That's a great joke.
I am not joking.
I am dying on Sunday.
I want to be buried next Wednesday.
I believe you're serious, sir.
I assure you I am.
Forgive me.
I understand.
Goodbye.
You'll be given a magnificent send-off.
Goodbye, sir.
And good luck.
Good afternoon, sir.
May I help you?
Wait.
Let me make a guess.
I'd say that you're a man searching for an exquisite boutonniere.
I wish to order a floral wreath.
Oh, oh, yes, sir.
It is to have a diameter of five feet.
Yes, sir.
Five.
With a blue ribbon.
Blue?
Blue.
And the flowers are to be orchids.
Orchids?
On a wreath?
It's my favorite flower.
The wreath will be delivered next Monday to the address on this card.
Now, about the inscription.
Yes, yes, on the ribbon.
It's to say, to myself, sincerely.
Make a pardon.
No, no, no, no.
Change that to read, to myself, with great love.
Oh.
Yes, sir.
Perhaps there is nobody who thinks as highly of me as I do.
No, sir.
Yes, sir.
I'll take the boutonniere now.
The black one.
I shall miss myself.
Irene, he should be here any moment.
Yes, I know.
And he's never late.
No.
Here.
Here's the capsule with the arsenic.
Oh, it looks so harmless, doesn't it?
Now, when he comes in, offer him this drink.
Then break this capsule with your finger there, right here.
And pour all of the contents into his glass.
There's enough here to fathom ox.
Such a little thing.
Think of tomorrow, darling.
Think of all his money.
Oh, that's all I've thought of for years.
There he is.
Then quick, put this next to the liquor bottle.
Yes, yes.
I'll do it.
Good, good, good.
He'll never notice.
Now answer the door.
Joseph, I'm afraid.
There'll be nothing to it.
As soon as he drinks the arsenic, we'll just call the police and it'll all be over.
Hurry.
Shh.
Good afternoon, Irene.
Hello, Henry.
Come in, my dear.
Thank you.
And Joseph.
I'm so pleased that you could arrange to be here.
Hello, Henry.
Sit down, dear.
Thank you.
You're looking very well, Henry.
Certainly not like a man who's spending the last few minutes of his life.
It's a beautiful day, Joseph.
And I had a delightful lunch earlier.
Courant de canard, au riz de la normande.
It was perfection.
Then why don't you go back to the same restaurant tomorrow?
Why go through with all this today?
Because I must.
But I rather regret leaving.
On a day like this.
Well, then why not change your plans?
Forget all this nonsense and have a few friendly drinks with Irene and me.
Henry, don't leave.
I must.
Oh, Henry.
Think of what you're doing to me.
What will become of me.
I'll be so lonely when you're gone.
Oh, there, there, Irene.
As for being lonely, I'm sure Joseph will be pleased to add an old friend.
Pleased to add another usual night to his schedule?
Oh, yes, yes, of course, of course.
Now, aren't you feeling better, dear?
Yes, yes, much.
But Henry, there is one thing more before you go.
One last favor to me.
Name it, my dear.
Here's a drink, Henry.
I want us to have a last sad drink together.
You needn't have enough to spoil your test.
No, there isn't time.
It's now 5.49.
I've never been late for an appointment in my life.
I have only three more minutes.
I must go.
Wait.
And, Joseph, thank you for the many games of billiards,
for the fine friendship of all these years.
But Henry.
And you'll be sure to send me a spray of orchids on Wednesday.
But Henry, I insist that you have a drink with us.
Farewell, Joseph.
Henry.
This is it.
Yes, yes, I can see that step, the fourth from the bottom.
Now.
It'll be such a perfect funeral in that cemetery plot,
eternal beauty there, a perfect life, and now a perfect death.
The next one is the next step.
I'll close my eyes and step off into space.
Goodbye, goodbye, beautiful world.
Good heavens.
You made it okay, huh?
You fixed that step.
I did not.
I got the word, but today's Sunday.
I don't work on Sunday.
Then the step is no longer walk.
It's just the same as the day you fell.
But you were so careful today, even when you shut your eyes.
I stood over there watching you.
You didn't trip even a little.
You went so carefully that I...
Henry?
Henry?
Henry!
You're all right.
You're not dead.
Dead?
No, Joseph.
Then nothing happened?
Oh, I saw images of my childhood, my whole past flashed before me,
and then I realized that this afternoon, just now, I escaped my own death.
That's true.
And now, don't you see, now I shall live forever.
Oh, no.
Well, this certainly calls for a celebration, Henry.
From now on, every day will be a celebration.
Here's your drink, Henry.
Thank you.
Irene.
Yes, dear.
There's something I must do first before anything else.
What's that?
I must telephone, I'll put my drink down right here, and it won't take a moment.
But, but, but, but, but, Henry, I'd like to propose a toast to you.
Well, then go right ahead, Joseph.
It would be bad luck for me to drink my own toast.
But, but, but, but, Henry.
Hello.
Oh, dear.
Is this the funeral director?
This is Henry Perth Johnson.
You're expecting my body in a short while.
Well, I've decided to cancel all the arrangements.
Yes, that's right.
No, I didn't die.
No, I'm in the best of health.
Next week?
No.
My good man canceled it permanently.
Thank you.
Henry, Henry.
Now, wait.
Joseph, before you make a toast to me, I would like to propose one to both of you.
Irene, do something.
It mustn't happen.
No, Henry.
What's the matter?
Give me that glass.
I'll make a fresh drink for you, Henry.
I haven't even touched this drink yet.
A toast.
Give it to me, Henry, please.
Well, why?
Is there something wrong with it?
Oh, no, no, no, no, no.
It is just...
There's a strange smell to this drink.
Oh.
Reminiscent of gardens in summer and rose arbors and...
Ah, now I recognize it.
Arsenic.
Arsenic.
Arsenic.
Arsenic.
Decidedly.
Surely you realize that I cannot die now, under any circumstances.
Yes, we will.
Here you are, Henry.
A fresh drink, and I'll take that glass.
Thank you.
Henry, sweet, sweet Henry.
Will you ever be able to forgive us?
Forgive?
I've already forgotten.
To you, Irene, and you, Joseph, my closest and my dearest friends.
Suspense.
You've been listening to The Time, The Place, and The Death, written for suspense by Peter Fernandez.
In a moment, the names of our players and the word about next week's story of suspense.
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Heard in tonight's story were Eric Dressler as Henry, Claudia Morgan as Irene, and Mercer McCloud as Joseph.
Others in our cast included Bryna Rayburn, Maurice Tartland, Peter Fernandez, and Dwight Wiest.
Listen again next week when we return with Turnabout, written for suspense by J. Bennet.
Another tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.