Radio television mirror (July-Dec 1951)

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WALLACE BROWN, INC. 22S Fifth Ave., Dept.B 186, NewYorklO, N.Y. i ADDRESS CITY STATE. . 92 eighteen, she had seen enough suffering in Europe to understand that even a nurse, professionally trained to handle it, could sometimes find a routine hospital day almost unendurable. She was a mature little person, sensitive and gentle, but there was power behind the gentleness which stunned you when it came out in the only outlet it had — her music. One of the best pianists in the world had said Suzanne had a talent, and had taken her for his pupil. They were all pleasant memories, when I thought about her music. But gradually unpleasant ones came crowding in. How endlessly and inextricably people are chained together — Suzanne to Tom Morley, Tom to Charles Dobbs and me and through us to George Stewart and Dorothy, his wife . . . and over us all the menacing shadow of Big John Morley, Tom's father. The trouble began with Big John, too. When Charles, then a Special Prosecutor, began to compile the information that would put Big John behind bars, he knew he was tracking down one of the most powerful sources of corruption the city had ever known. We all knew — Charles and I and his other friends — that it was a dangerous assignment; no attempt to expose Big John had ever yet been carried through to a conclusion. But Charles had no doubt of his ultimate success— and unfortunately neither did Big John Morley. Perhaps he had decided his time had run out — perhaps it was the effect of having his son Tom out of college, ready to make a beginning in the world. Morley must have thought a great deal about just what kind of a beginning Tom could make, with his father's record and name neatly fencing him off from respectable people. That he loved his son there was no doubt; in fact as Charles learned more of Morley's life and character he realized that between Big John and his son there was an unusually strong affection. Did Big John decide that if he were out of the way Tom would have a better chance? Was it an accident? Nobody had the answers, except Tom Morley. When on the verge of his indictment Big John Morley went out in a boat and was drowned., Tom Morley accused Charles of having killed his father. He couldn't, naturally, make a formal accusation of murder. But, wild with grief and hysteria, Tom held Charles guilty of having unjustly persecuted Big John until death was the only way out. And because I was with Charles on that dreadful grey day when we tried to keep Morley from going out in the boat, Tom turned his hatred on me as well. That was how he and Suzanne met — when he came and told me that somehow, he didn't yet know how, he was going to make Charles and me pay for what he believed we had done to his father. For all the youthful melodrama of his threat, it was nonetheless ominous — partly because hatred was working down into Tom himself to twist a decent, pleasant boy into something not quite sane. Before I had rather liked Tom, but now he frightened me. I was relieved when several months went by with no further contact between us. Suzanne asked about him once or twice, for he had frightened and intrigued her too. But in normal people hysteria doesn't last forever; I was sure that time and travel had softened the grief of losing his father, and that Tom was beginning the good life I suspected Big John had died to give him. So it was a shock when Charles told me bitterly that Tom was making good his threat. Working with a cold persistence, Tom had found the key with which he planned to unlock all sorts of trouble for Charles. He found it in his father's office safe — a check signed by George Stewart, Charles's brother, which Tom said that he could prove was a forgery. A Special Prosecutor cannot have a brother under suspicion of forgery. Tom's plan moved smoothly right from the start, for Charles felt he had to resign. He began at once to set up a defense for George, but I saw him growing more harassed as his hopes for a good case weakened. Tom held all the cards — the check, the proof, and worst of all George's past history, which had sometimes taken him close to the line between legal and illegal activities. The fact that he had been working for Big John Morley was enough to damn him in the eyes of any intelligent jury. And the worst of it was that George wasn't really guilty of the forgery. Everybody knew it — the dreadful thing was that only Tom could prove it. In all our faces he flaunted his power, even going to the trouble of coming up to our apartment one night to make it perfectly plain that if he chose to he could save George. He came in and sat down as nonchalantly as though we were all good friends, he and Suzanne and I. "Dorothy Stewart is simply wild, you know," he said, looking pleasantly from me to Suzanne. "She knows my father tricked George into signing that check, and Dobbs knows it too — and they can't do a thing." With an effort I kept expression off my face, but Suzanne didn't even try. "You're unbelievable," she said. "You're the most contemptible creature I've ever known." Tom looked her up and down. "You're so young, Miss Turrie — you haven't really known so many people, now have you? You're really very naive. You must be, because you've swallowed Miss Drake and Mr. Dobbs so thoroughly. They sound noble, therefore they must be noble. Such faith! And to think I have to come along and destroy it! Destroy it because it's built on a lie, because two people capable of hounding a man like my father to death mustn't be allowed to parade their hypocrisy around without some punishment!" Suzanne said fiercely, "It's you, you who are naive. Stupid and vicious! Why don't you face the fact that your father was a criminal?" "Suzanne," I intervened, "that's quite useless. Tom will have to arrive at the truth in his own time and manner." I was frankly a little frightened at the chalky fury that came into his face when she called his father a criminal. If there was any madness in Tom, that was its testing point — he had never been able to accept the truth about Big John Morley. Bitterly though they had fought, Tom seemed to find some stimulation in Suzanne's contempt that he couldn't resist. Perhaps it was the simple, spontaneous unleashing of anger that he enjoyed parrying, for the rest of us had long ago given up all hope of making an impres' .