Walter Crane (82:39)
Suspense Presented by Roma Wines R O M A Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is Ken Niles for Roma Wines. Perhaps you've noticed how summer's open doors in backyard living promote new neighborliness. How often these warm days casual, over the fence invitations mark the start of pleasant, friendly evenings. More and more, the keynote of such friendly hospitality is Roma Wine Lemonade, a tall, cold refresher that's an invitation to settle back and enjoy life. Guests enjoy the tangy, thirst quenching refreshment of Roma Wine Lemonade. Hosts acclaim. Roma Wine Lemonade, because it costs so little, is so easy to prepare. You simply squeeze half lemons into tall glasses, add ice and pour 3/4 full with Roma, California Burgundy or any other Roma wine type you prefer. Then fill with water, sweeten to taste, and you have refreshers that make thirst a pleasure. And remember, Roma Wines are selected from the world's greatest wine reserves. That's why refreshers made with Roma are better. Tastier tasting every time. So insist on Roma. R O M a Roma Wines enjoyed by more Americans than any other wine. Next Thursday, same time, Roma Wines will bring you Mr. Henry Danielle as star of Suspense Radio's Outstanding Theater of Thrill. Produced by William Spear for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California. This is cbs, the Columbia Broadcasting System. And now, Roma Wines. R O M a made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. Roma Wines presents Suspense. Tonight, Roma Wines bring you Mr. Vincent Price and Mr. Lloyd Nolan as stars of Hunting Trips, a suspense play produced, edited and directed for Roma Wines by William Speer. Suspense Radio's outstanding Theater of Thrills is presented for your enjoyment by Rock 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 in entertaining guests. To your enjoyment of everyday meals. Yes, right now a glassful would be very pleasant as Roma Wines bring you Lloyd Noland and Vincent Price in a remarkable tale of suspense. It began with just a little hunting trip for the two of us. Eric and me. I hadn't seen Eric for several months. Not since before Karen died, in fact. When I bumped into him at the club, he suggested that we run up to his cabin in the mountains for a few days. Grab a bit of fresh air and relaxation. See if we couldn't bag ourselves a moose or a deer. And yet, almost at the outset, I had an uncanny feeling about that trip. I suppose, actually it was the night and the setting. It was the blackest night I'd ever seen. We'd left all humankind behind us. There was no moon. There was only blackness. The kind that seemed to be all enveloping. As though there was nothing outside our car but blackness. No road, no forest, no mountains. I'll not admit I was nervous. I was boring my feet into the floorboard of the cars. Though somehow that would help. What are you laughing at? You, Stan. You don't look as though you're having a very good time. Well, I'm not, frankly. Shouldn't you be driving a little bit slower? Why? Why? Good heavens, Eric. If you make just one little slip at the wheel, we're done for, that's all. I doubt if that ever is. Even find us down in those canyons. Nonsense. I know every crook and turn in this road. Oh, yeah? I don't think you're much of an outdoors man. Well, maybe not. I Love this kind of country in the daytime. But I'll confess I'm not so keen on it at night. I don't like what I can't see. Funny, I'm just the opposite. There's. Well, there's a challenge in the darkness that stimulates my senses. It's exhilarating. It stirs my imagination. I suppose it would, but I'm not equipped to grapple with the mysteries of the universe. Stan, you're much too modest. You always were. You've gotten out of life pretty much what you wanted, haven't you? Well, yes, I suppose so. Then don't always be belittling yourself. It's an effective technique, Stan. But I'm on to you. You're as clever as the next fellow in your own. I sat back and tried to relax. Things weren't quite as Eric had pictured them. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, as they say. Eric had come up the hard way. I was average and soft. He was brilliant and hard. We'd known each other a long time, going to school together, being in love with the same girl, Karen. When I married her, he was my best man. And yet I didn't pretend to understand him. He was still pretty much of a stranger to me. I glanced over his way. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself. It crossed my mind that he was rather enjoying seeing me in a bit of a lather, too. Well, it's not far now. Just around the next bend. Well, thank the Lord. Well, am I amusing you again? No, I was just thinking what a perfect spot this would be for a murder. A murder? Honestly, Eric, I believe that's all you think about. It is almost. When I buy a newspaper, I read about murder. The way you study the stock quotations. Murder is fascinating to me. I spend most of my time figuring out ways and means to commit murder. Now you're trying to sound like a metal case. Who knows? Perhaps I am. I have a mind. Well, here we are, old man. You see, I've delivered you safe and sound, all in one piece. Eric's cabin was perched high on a rocky crag jutting out from the side of a mountain with one more flush against a sheer drop. In front, there was a steep path leading down to a lake. I could hear the lapping of the waves. Eric fixed us something to eat, then went outside. Pretty soon he came back in armful of logs. His face was red and healthy. I don't think you like my place, Stan. Oh, yes, I do. Honestly. I'm just tired, I guess. Well, we'll turn in directly. Oh, thanks. Cigarette? Yes, thanks. I believe I will. I like it here. All the privacy in the world. Mm. Say, Eric. Yes? Why do you read about murder? Why do you read about stocks and bonds? Well, because they interest me. It's my business. My business doesn't interest me. I read about murder because I'm interested in people. Murder is emotional. And when people are being emotional, you get to see more of them. Why are you so interested in people? Oh, I think I'm more curious than interested. Well, all right. Why so curious? It amuses me. I find out about people, I write down what I find out, and I write my impressions of how those people will react to a series of circumstances. It's a good way to get rid of one's inhibition. Sort of a frightening hobby. I think stamp collecting is frightening. You're too darn clever, Eric. Why too clever? Well, I mean, you see through people. What's wrong with that? Unless, of course, they have something they want to hide. Oh, I suppose it's all right if your friends don't mind. Do you mind? No. Heavens, no. Why should I? That's right. Why should you? Well, how about hitting the hay? We have to be up early. We'll only get a few hours sleep as it is. That suits me. You sleep in my studies, Stan. The bed's in there. Is a bit more comfortable. I'll bunk out here on the couch. I had undressed and gotten into bed and was reaching over to put out the light on Eric's desk when my eyes fell on a stack of typewritten sheets. I wondered if they were the notes Eric had been speaking about. The strange mumbo jumbo he'd written there, phrases he liked, single sentences describing people he'd met. There were a few clippings pasted on sheets of white paper. Clippings describing murders by strangulation, by pistol, by drowning, by poison. A full sheet was devoted to Karen. I hadn't realized how much he'd cared for. His analysis was very kind, almost maudlin. He spoke of his shock at hearing of a suicide. He tried to reason it to find causes. Small memo pad caught my eye, however, and on the last page I saw my name carefully printed. I read it eagerly, read Eric's arguments for not hating me because I had married Karen. I read Eric's cold analysis of my character. Not exactly flattering, but it was pretty accurate. And at the bottom of the page, newly written by the looks of it, and in Eric's own careful hand, I read Four Ways to Commit Murder. By strangulation, by pistol bullet, by drowning, By Po. For suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you Vincent Price and Lloyd Nolan in Hunting Trip by Paul Bernard and Lee Horton. Roma Wines presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense. Between the acts of suspense, this is Ken Niles for Grand Estate Wines. Last night, a friend who entertains frequently told me how much he likes Grand Estate wines. Those wines of outstanding excellence presented by Roma, America's greatest vinder. Here's what he said recently, Ken. I served Grand Estate wine to some very particular guests. People who really know wine. Their sincere praise for that wonderful fragrance and taste was certainly flattering to me as a host. Grand Estate wines are outstanding. Yes. To bring you this limited bottling of Grand Estate wines, Roma selected only the choicest juice laden grapes from California's finest vineyards. Then, at Roma's famed wineries, unmatched in winemaking resources, Grand Estate wines are patiently, skillfully guided to perfection. Necessary time and the age old skill of Roma master vintners endow each Grand Estate wine with brilliant clarity, full fragrance and mellow taste. So whatever the occasion, you're sure to please all tastes with Grand Estate California wines. Medium sherry, Ruby port and golden Muscatel for delightful entertaining. Grand Estate Burgundy and Sauterne for gracious dining. Remember the name Grand Estate Wines by Roma, the crowning achievement of vintner skill. And now, Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood sound stage. Lloyd Nolan as Stan and Vincent Price as Eric in hunting trip. A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense, I suppose. I slept that night, but it seemed as though I had only just dozed off. When I heard the door open quietly. I opened one eye cautiously. It was still gray in the room, so I know I hadn't slept long. I was about to open both eyes to save Eric the trouble of waking me when I thought, he hasn't come to wake me. My mind threw two words at me by strangulation. Before I had the chance to move, I felt his hands carefully on my throat. Dalton. Why, Stan, what's the matter? I thought for a minute that. Yes, I guess I must have been dreaming. Nightmare. You grabbed hold of my hands like you thought I was going to strangle you. Oh, did I? What's the matter? Have you got a guilty conscience? Yeah. Yeah, I guess I have it. What did you want? Eric? Time to get up. Oh, already? Yeah, that's right. I've got good news too. I just spotted a likely looking buck right across the lake when I went down for water. Oh, good, good. Well, I'll get breakfast going as soon as you're ready. Yeah. Be right with you. There's no rush. Take your time. Nice have you here. Well, maybe it was the way that he'd said that, as though he really meant it. For a minute, I was convinced that I'd let my imagination run away with me. As for putting his hand on my throat, that was an accident. He'd been groping for my shoulder. Then the next minute, I was asking myself, was it an accident, though? Suppose I'd really been asleep. Suppose I hadn't grabbed his hands. I still didn't know what to think. Well, I dressed and we sat down to breakfast. Pass me your cup, will you, Stan? I'll. I'll give you some coffee. There you are. Thanks. Sugar Coming up. No. No sugar for me, thanks. Well, Stan, when are you gonna confess? What do you mean, confess? Or shall I drag it out of you? What are you driving at? Oh, come now. You're not going to play the adolescent schoolboy with me. I swear I. I don't. I'm referring to the lovely young woman you've been seen dining with and taking to the theater. Oh, you mean Marcia. Is that her name? Yes. Well, go on. Where did you meet her? How? When? Is she wealthy? Is she as beautiful as they say she is? Come on. Let's have the sort of details. No, Eric, you're. You're barking up the wrong trait. Am I? Oh, I'll admit I. Taking her out occasionally, but nothing like that. Marcia. Do I know her? No, I don't believe you do. Isn't her last name Jenkins? Yes, of course I know her. That is, I met her. Well, don't you remember? You introduced me to her yourself. Oh. Oh, did I? Yes. Don't you remember? I ran into you at Silver's. You were buying perfume, and she was helping you select it for Karen. Remember? Oh. Oh, yes. Yes, now that you recall it. More coffee? Yeah. No sugar. Well, when we got to the lake, we bailed out the boat, loaded it and pushed it out into the fog. It was still half light when we reached the other side. So we sat in the boat and lighted cigarettes, waited for the sun to come up. We'd been sitting there just smoking, not saying anything, when he suddenly turned to me and said. You say that she'd been ill? Oh, Karen. Yes. Yes, she'd been ill for some time, Eric. So she killed herself? Yes. There was an inquest, of course. Yes, of course. Why do you ask? Look at that sun. Did you ever see such col. 4 Ways to Commit murder. I'd almost forgotten about Eric's hands on my throat. Now the incident jumped vividly back to my mind. Because now I knew that Eric had a reason. He looked away after he asked me about the inquest. He didn't answer me when I asked him why he wanted to know. Somewhere in that strange, dark corner of his mind, he was still. Still obsessed by love for Karen. Even though she was dead and gone. He thought that she'd still be alive and happy if she hadn't married me. My legs were weak when he motioned me out of the boat. A deer blew somewhere near us. We stopped. Hey, did you hear that? Yeah. Listen. It's moving west. Yeah. Stan, you work west, just about half a mile or so ahead of us. You'll come to a clearing. Take your stand there. Right. I'll strike north and west and then work toward the clearing. Good hunting. This is it. Then I thought, he'll hide somewhere along the way to the clearing and shoot me in the back. Now that I knew what to expect, I felt somewhat relieved. At least I'd be ready for him. Nothing happened until I'd nearly reached the clearing. And then I got the feeling that someone was walking with me, timing his steps with mine. I stopped and listened. I don't know how long I stood there, my rifle gripped in my hands. But suddenly, instinctively, I wheeled around. Shot whistled over my head. Then I saw a buck running across the clearing. He'd shot at me and missed. Well, two can play at that game. I thought. The next shot would be mine. I wouldn't miss. I dropped on my knees, watching the brush for him. Then all of a sudden, I saw him running toward me, right out in the open. I started to raise my rifle, but I couldn't. I couldn't kill a man that way in cold blood. Stan.