The Twelfth Rose

And now, tonight's presentation of Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills Thus Spence, tonight we bring you a story of death and eleven roses We call it the Twelfth Rose So now, starring Paula Winslow, here as tonight's suspense play, The Twelfth Rose Mr. Robin, it's the maid, Ms. Robin Some clean towels first.

The place, New York City. The time, 12.15 pm. The Loris Robbins have been young and pretty. The details of a murder were not. The sprawl position of her body and the instrument of murder indicated that the act had not been premeditated.

A dozen roses were in the apartment, eleven of them in a large vase near the body. Running around and up the length of each stem to give the blossom support was a single strand of green wire.

The killer had circled the girl's neck with a long stem of the 12th rose and then twisted. And although the stem itself had broken, the wire had not. Fifty-five minutes after the maid discovered the girl's body, two detectives from the homicide division began questioning her.

Mrs. Williams, how often did you clean in here? Every day, but Sunday. She wasn't due for service twice a week, but she always gave me a little something extra. Then you were in here yesterday?

Yes, sir. Yesterday afternoon. Were these roses here then? No, sir. You're sure? Yes, sir. Do you have any idea where they might have come from? No, sir. But no girl looking like she looked is going to have to buy them for herself.

And what about the box or a wrapping paper they came in? You know where it might be? Well, if Mr. Abbins threw it in the trash before 8 this morning, it'd already be burned up. If she put it in after 8 this morning...