Deja Vu - Part I(Lisa McDonald) Her favorite radio program would be starting soon.

Little else could get Eliza Whittle so excited or so worked up out of sheer anticipation than the-"CBS Radio Mystery Theater".

It was absolutely imperative that she be home by a quarter till 7:00, no later.

She would have just enough time to sweeten the jar of sun tea that had been basking in the warm sun all day, turning plain water into the perfect, smooth, golden brown brew she drank so often on warm evenings like this one.

Next, pop the popcorn.

Drizzle the hot melted butter.

Scoop out a single serving of butter pecan ice cream into the small green bowl she bought at the Coopers Ville 5&10 when she visited her sister a year and a half earlier.

And now finally, to nestle into her cozy,brown EasyChair that sat next to the radio.

It was positioned at just the right angle, so that she would not miss a single word in her good ear that came from her little boxy, wooden friend she often referred to as "Mr. RCA".

This evenings program would be the second half of "Midnight Passage" starring, Carey Grant and Eve Arden.

She just couldn't miss it. Not this time.

The local radio station WKBR always aired the first half on Monday and Tuesday, and the second half on Thursday and Friday.

She had already missed the second half when they aired the same episode six months earlier.

Then she missed it again the previous evening, when Mrs. Ingersoll phoned five minutes before it started and didn't hang up until twenty minutes after the program had ended.

She was not about to wait another six months!

This time she would leave the receiver off the hook.

"If only I could make it home in time...Where is that cab that always sits in front of Wellman's?"

She supposed to herself, in a low trepidacious mumble that she could chance it and walk home. It would only take her, at most, ten minutes or so, depending on her arthritic hip that tended to have mood swings.

Dark gray clouds were beginning to form in the foreground. Cumulonimbus. Her hip hated Cumulonimbi. Already, she could feel it threatening to throw a temper tantrum like a spoiled brat, determined to ruin her evening...

She ignored it, pretending that it wasn't about to start stamping it's feet and screaming bloody murder.

Once she arrived home, she would take a couple of the pain pills Dr. Price had prescribed for her and put the unruly brat to bed once and for all.


Somewhere in the distance, floating on a feathery breeze was the faint sound of wind chimes hanging from pastoral porches clinging to quaint memories of an earlier time, subtly calling to her attention that she was without an umbrella.

It appeared that Mrs. Ingersoll and the storm were both inevitable. The question was, which one would
prevent her from listening to her program this time?

Thunder Boomed in the distance as lightning raced across the northern sky in every direction, reminding her of the branches on a guantly tree in the dead of winter.

"Well...I suppose I had better start walkin.'... "If the storm would just go easy for the next hour and a half, after that it can blow the whole blasted state away for all I care." She mumbled to herself, looking both ways before crossing Fair View avenue.

A damp, wetness lingered in the smell of the moist air that was now beginning to collect on her cheekbones, nose and other facial protrusions as she proceeded down Taft street, slow, steady and determined toward Orangewood avenue.


Only two blocks more, then turn right, pass the Post Office sitting on the corner of Orangewood and Taft, after that she wouldn't feel the urgency to walk so fast.

Four houses down from the Post Office, sat an almost antiquated little brown stone house with white columns lining a wooden porch, where a jar of sun tea sat waiting on the third step down.

Mrs. Whittle looked up at the darkening sky. The wind was most definitely blowing a bit heavier now and she felt the pit-pat of a couple rain drops, one on her forehead and the other on her right hand.

Storms were all too common here, especially in the summer, but this storm reminded her of the one in "Night Fall" Starring Agnes Moorehead.

Regardless of the nature of the story and how it was portrayed, Mrs. Whittle always imagined that every event, every word uttered in every scene was taking place right there in Fair View. She laughed to herself at the thought of it.

Fair View, A simple little town, with simple little people, leading their simple ordinary lives. She almost cringed at how nothing exciting or eventful ever happened there. Excitement and adventure were born somewhere else, they found no place in Fair View.

Perhaps it was for this very reason, she was so drawn to the CBS Radio Mystery Theater.

She craved the thrills and excitement--the gripping fear that the prime time mysteries afforded her. She craved danger--Every pulsating, heart stopping dramatic moment.

How often she longed to be a character in one of those stories. Other ladies she knew were content to sit on their front porch snapping green beans into a pot while spying on unwary neighbors or listening to the latest neighborhood gossip, but not Eliza Jane Whittle.

Television had been around for years now, but Mrs. Whittle much prefered that old RCA floor model radio her husband had bought to keep her company while he was away. Now that he was gone she depended even more so on that old radio and it's cautionary tales of suspense.

In her minds eye, she could invision every scene perfectly. It was she who created the atmosphere.--designed the set.--It was her taste that decorated each room and painted every colorful stroke of scenery-- Indeed it was her imagination that shaped the mood of each character, and sculpted the expressions on every face. Faces she knew very well-- And sometimes, just for fun, one of those faces would be hers, sometimes young, sometimes not.


Watching Orangewood Avenue take it's time slowly scrolling to the immediate foreground, Mrs. Whittle found herself thinking of Mrs. Ingersoll again.

How she hated interruptions! Interrupting is so rude! She thought to herself--"Uugh! such an annoying, bag of endless wind."


She took umbrage with how it always seemed to happen at the most pivitol, most crucial moments of a story..."Entirely frustrating! she yawped."

If Mrs. Ingersoll dared to engage her in conversation, she decided there was a simple, but entirely necessary solution...It was actually unavoidable! She had to do it, that's all there is to say on the matter.

She was certain that no one would blame her under the circumstances. That thought inspired a sigh of relief.

"Yes, it has been decided--I will have to be rude to her--Down right nasty if I have to. After all it's about time someone put that woman in her PLACE! Phsss, she rarely talks about anything of interest."

Conversations with Mrs. Ingersoll revolved mostly around her poodles digestive problems, certainly nothing of even the slightest interest to an adventurous soul like Mrs. Whittle... "That annoying dog!" She thought out loud. "Digestive problems, my FOOT!....All the countless times it's come over and done it's business in my yard!"

She held her breath, bit her lower lip and walked down Orangewood avenue, steady and casual as though she were a stranger just passing through, someone whose destination was somewhere other than 1343 S. Orangewood ave.

It appeared as though she felt her feeble endeavor would somehow make her invisible if she were to wish hard enough, hold her breath tighter, and-or bite her lip a little harder. But she would be happy if she could just muster unrecognizable. Then again, it would all be in vain if Muffy were anywhere around. "That noisy, ever yapping, glorified brillo pad!" Oh how she hated Muffy.

The jar of sun tea was now in clear view. If she could just make it to the beginning of the hedges that lined the walk way without being noticed, she would rush to the third step, grab the jar and hurry inside.

Slowing her pace the closer she got, trying with gentle might not to alert watchful eyes and ears, she inched her way forward while glancing across the street to the left in the direction of Mrs, Ingersoll's porch.

She may be sitting on her front porch, she may not. She couldn't tell. It was all very frustrating. The view of Mrs. Ingersoll's rocking chair was blocked by the trunk of the old oak tree that shaded the right corner of Mrs. Ingersoll's front lawn, and a considerable portion of Nigel Fletcher's.

Though her feet may have only been inching their way slowly forward, her heart felt like the tiny feet of a drummer in a marching band that quickend their pace.

At that moment she didn't know if she hated the oak tree for blocking her curious view, or loved it for possibly shielding her from Mrs.Ingersol's unmitigated hunt, even if it were only momentarily.

The closer she got time seemed to drag it's feet and yet at the very same moment felt as though it were running a race with the speed of light.

As the giant obstructive sheild faded into the past, the drummer fainted. There was Mrs. Ingersol sitting on her front porch staring straight ahead, perched like a hawk waiting for it's prey.

"There is no place to escape her view!..There's no turnin' back...I didn't wanna have to do this but if she says even one word to me,
I'm gonna' give that woman a piece of my mind once and for all!"

Mrs. Whittle watched through the corner of her eye as Mrs. Ingersoll turned her gaze slowly to the right in her direction.

"OH! Mrs. Whittle, Mrs. WHITTLE!" she double bellowed. "I'm so glad to see you. Thank HEAVENS above I've caught y-"

Before Mrs. Ingersol could finish that sentence, a thunderous clap of lightning bolted through the thickening gray clouds, pouring a flood of rain down on poor Mrs. Whittle.

"Sorry Mrs. Ingersoll. I have to go." She shouted through sheets of rain as she fled toward home, adrenaline freeing her from the pain in her hip.

"WAIT, WAIIIT!" Mrs. Whittle I have to-" she bellowed once more.

"Can't stop to talk now Dear." Mrs. Whittle interrupted. "I don't want to catch my death of cold. I'm VERY sick right now. Just came from the Doctor." She whooped as she deftly scooped up the jar of sun tea, running up the steps and into the house closing the door and locking it behind her.


Once she was safely on the other side of the door, the phone began to ring. It suddenly occurred to her in that very moment, how oddly funny it was that every ring of every phone call is absolutely identical, none differ in pitch, length or frequency; yet she could always tell when it was Mrs. Ingersoll phoning, instead of her sister Rose or the pharmacy calling about her prescription. It always seemed to have a sound of urgency whenever Mrs. Ingersoll rang...r-i-n-g... r-i-n-g... r-i-n-g... r-i-n-g!

"I'll not answer it, I know it's her."... r-i-n-g "I haven't the time, my program is about to begin, I'm going to ignore it... r-i-n-g... r-i-n-g "After all, I'm sure it's nothing of any import... r-i-n-g..."Oh for heaven's sake what is it Mrs. Ingersoll?! Has Muffey got irritable bowel syndrome, tapeworm, K-9 schizophrenia, dementia, WHAT?!" She snapped over the phone...Oh, yes yes Dear, I'm very sorry to hear that.. I really had no idea her condition was so serious. Poor Muffy. Please forgive me and accept my heartfelt condolences. I didn't mean to be so short with you. It's just that, well, you see tonight is the last..., Never mind it's not important, its just that I've had a very bad day. I've had some rather terrible news myself you see... Yes, yes I went to the doctor and I'm really not feeling well, I think I should turn into bed early...Uhumm, well thank you...Thank you Dear. I will and I truly am sorry for your loss... Alright, good night Mrs. Ingersoll Dear."

Mrs. Whittle almost felt terrible about lying to Mrs. Ingersoll. Other than her arthritic hip, she was given a clean bill of health.

No time to fret over a little white lie now, there were far more important matters to tend to..."Oh that reminds me, I'd better take my prescription now." She checked her watch. "I've got exactly eleven minute's, I must hurry!"




She sweetened the suntea, popped the popcorn, drizzled the melted butter, scooped out the ice cream and was sitting in the chair, comfortable, cozy, and absolutely giddy by one minute till 7:00. All she had to do now was lean forward and switch on the radio.

First, came the sound of a creaking door, followed by eeri ominus music. - "C-O-O-ME IIN Welcome, I'm E. G. Marshall-" reverberated from the radio. A chilling tingle flushed through Eliza's bones out of sheer anticipation, creating goosebumps up and down her slack, fragile epidermis...

"Tonight's episode is Part two of -Midnight Passage- starring, Carey Grant and Eve Arden."



"Wait John, pleeease, you musn't go out, what if, what if whoever it is that's out there, is waiting for you to come out...? They'll kill you John. They'll kill you!"

"D-o-n't be re-dic-ulous Margot, let go of my arm. I'm just going up the road to the car, I'll be right back! Now stay put, and don't answer the door to anybody but mee do you understand?...And lock the door behind me."

"Of course darling, I'll do anything you say... John? Just be careful."

(The door closes, ominus music playing in the background...a couple of moments later- knock-knock-knock)

"John?...Is that you?"

"Yes of course it's me! Now open the door, I'm getting soaked out here!"

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry darling I just didn't expect you to be back so soon. I mean the car's a good half mile up the road. How did you manage, my goodness, it seems like you only left a moment ago?"

"I ran there and back, whadaya think? Have you seen it out there, it's really coming down?!"

"Did you see anyone?"

"Nah, nobody. Were safe enough. Nobody'll find us all the way out here, that's for sure. There's only one person who could find us all the way out here , and he's not around."

"You mean Philip don't you? Well thank heavens for that...Did you get it?"

"Well of course I got it. You don't think I'd run all the way there and back in this weather for nothing do ya?"

"Of course not darling. Here let me help you off with your coat."

(A startled gasp escapes from Margot)

"Wh-a-t?! What is it?"

"Oh, nothing darling it's..."

"It's what, come on?"

"Nothing, it's silly really...but, John, am I wrong, weren't you wearing your blue shirt?"

"No. I was wearing my white one. Saaay, what's gotten into you anyway? You're always so jumpy lately, you're makin' me nervous. I wish you'd cut it out!"

"Yes I'm sorry darling. Let me get you a nice hot cup of coffee and draw you a nice warm bath, that'll make you feel better?"

"Yeah, I could use a nice hot bath. My shoulder is killing me."

"Your shoulder? Darling I didn't know your shoulder was bothering you."

"It wasn't, till just now. I must've strained it trying to pry the trunk open."

"Well why did you have to pry it open, you had your keys with you?"

"Yeah, I thought I did, must've dropped'm somewhere when I was running to the car."

"Oh, well don't you worry darling, I'll rub some liniment on it soon as you've finished with your bath."

"Thank you darling."

( The bath is running, John is humming while he bathes)

"John darling? I'm coming in to get your clothes so I can hang them up to dry. Here's your bathrobe."

(Margot is creasing and straightening John's trousers to hang them in front of the fire place... something falls out of the pocket)

"Oh, John's wallet, his driver's license fell out."

(John steps out of the bathroom and See's Margot with his wallet)

"Saaay, gimme that!"

(He grabs the wallet from her hand and See's her holding his license)

"Okay, so the jig is up! You know I'm not John."

You're... you're John's twin brother, Philip!...You mean all this time it was you who was after-"

Mrs. Whittle gasps, hands over mouth." A TWIN BROTHER!" She moves forward to the edge of the chair and grasps another handful of popcorn, leans in closer to the radio crunching and chewing anxiously. "I can't believe it! A twin brother." She says shaking her head in disbelief. "I never would've guessed it in a million years."


"That's right! Now give me what's mine! I know you've got it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about?!"

"Yes you do, the money! Where is it I know you've got it?!"

"No, I swear I don't. There wasn't any money!"

"Saaay, whadaya take me for, some kinda chump?! I know you've got it hidden here somewhere. John didn't have it, so that only leaves you!"

"OOH GOD! I forgot about John! What have you done with him?! Please tell me!!!"

"My dear brother is exactly how I left him, lying face down un...."



Fifteen minutes later after the program ended

"This was CBS Radio Mystery Theatre and I'm E G Marshall. Tune in to next weeks episode, -If The Doorbell Rings Don't Answer- starring, James Mason, Edward G. Robinson, Raymond Burr, Myrna Loy and Joan Blondell...Up next, is- My Favorite Husband-, brought to you by, Lilt hair dye ."

After the program ended, Eliza sat with a pleasant smile painted across her face, quivering and trembling inside like a bowl of Jell-O--And she couldn't have been happier.

"We're sorry, we interrupt this program with a brief announcement from WKBR. Next week, The CBS Radio Mystery Theater's special episode of -If The Doorbell Rings Don't Answer- Will be aired in full on Monday night 7:00 pm. "My Favorite Husband" will not be aired for this special addition episode, but will return to it's usually scheduled broadcast Tuesday at 8:00 pm. Thank you, this has been an announcement from WKBR radio. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming."

"Oh heaven's, I can't wait, the FULL episode. This one one must be r-e-ally special!. I'm gonna go outa my mind waitin' for it, I just know it."

A jingle for Carnation evaporated milk came on immediately after the announcement ended. Eliza leaned forward and switched the radio off.





The door bell rang. Eliza looked down at her watch "Twenty till 8:00, hmm, now who could that be?...Can't be Mrs Ingersoll, she thinks I'm in bed resting."

She lifted herself out of the chair, rather easily. "Huh, that new prescription really did the trick!" She said, straightening her appearance. The door bell rang again, this time twice in quick succession. "A-l-right alright I'm comin.'"

Mrs. Whittle walks to the door and peaks out through the lace oval window covering into the dark.

A young man in what appeared to be a brown suit, carrying some sort of bag was standing on the other side.

"You're a tall one, aren't you?" She mumbled under her breath.

The young man saw her, and acknowledged her by smiling and tipping his hat.

"Well it's too late now, he's already seen me...Can I help you young man?" She said loudly through the closed door.

"Uh yes you could ma'am. It would help me a great deal if you would let me use your telephone...uh, uh you see, I've gotta call the office." He stammered. "You see, my supervisor dropped me off here in town this morning. I'm a salesman." He holds up the large bag. "Anyway ma'am I'm awfully sorry to inconvenience you like this, but I need to call and let him, Mr. McNeely that is, know that I'm done so he can come pick me up... You people close up mighty early around here." He started again. "Otherwise I would have used the phone at the diner, and there doesn't seem to be any payphones to speak of."

That was the sure truth. There weren't any payphones except for the one inside the drugstore and they would have closed early being that it was a Friday.

"Please ma'am, I'd really appreciate it. I'm harmless I swear... I'll make the call and leave as soon as I'm done. Or you can make the call for me if you'd feel more comfortable... Please ma'am."

Eliza turns and looks back at the old Crank style black Ozark phone that had been hanging on the wall since it was new. It had been there when she and Mr. Whittle had bought the house. The new rotary phones that eventually came out, just didn't seem to have the same charm. Still Mr. Whittle wanted an upgrade so he left the old phone in the living room for Eliza's sake and had a new rotary table model installed in the bedroom. It always seemed such a shame to Eliza that old things that had once proven to be so useful and trustworthy, should suddenly be thrust to the wayside as if they never mattered at all.

"Well, alright what's the number?" She said.

"Oh thank you ma'am, I really appreciate this. The number is KL-57928, and you want to ask for Mr. McNeely."

"5-7-9-28 Mr. McNeely? " She repeated out loud.

"Yes ma'am that's correct and my name is Michael Branigan. Tell him I'll be waiting for him at your house...,If you don't mind that is. Don't worry I'll wait outside on the sidewalk. Or I could just wait for him down at the corner if you prefer."

"No, no I suppose it won't hurt anything for you to wait out front."

"Thank you again ma'am I really appreciate it."

He tipped his hat once again before descending the steps to the stone walkway leading him to the sidewalk where he stood waiting in the storm that had reduced to a light drizzle.

Eliza cranked the phone. "Yes operator, could you please ring me KL-57928?...yes, that's right..thank you."
There were four rings then a man with a deep sturdy voice said "Branigan?"

"Uh no sir. Is this Mr. McNeely?"

"Yes it is, with whom am I speaking to?"

"Well you don't know me sir, I'm Mrs. Whittle. I'm calling about the young man you mentioned, uh Michael Branigan? Anyway sir he's all finished now and he'd like you to pick him up now."

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

"... Okay let me get this straight, you're Mrs. Who?"

"Mrs. Whittle, Mrs. Eliza Whittle."

"I see. Are you a customer? Because I've told that boy a thousand times not to be bothering the customers to use the phone. He's supposed to go to a payphone and call when he's done."

"No sir no, I'm not a customer, don't worry about that. He just knocked on my door and asked to use the phone."

"That doesn't matter, he's not supposed to bother anyone, he's supposed to use a payphone. I guess I'll have to have another talk with him. It'll be the third time this month for heaven's sake! I'll have to be much firmer with him this time. This time it better stick. Truth is, I rather like the young man. I'd hate to have to fire him. Seeing as how he's got a family to support and all. Still, you can't run a business on sentiment!

"Uh, yes sir I understand, but you see it's not entirely his fault. You see, we close down quite early around here and the only payphone in town is inside the drug store which closed even earlier this evening, on account of it being Friday. So you see, he really had no choice in the matter."

"W-e-ll, I suppose not. Back to business. Where can I pick him up?"

"Yes sir, the address is 1343 S. Orangewood Ave. Just off of Taft. It's the only brown stone on the block. You can't miss it."

"13-43-South Orange-wood Avenue, brown stone. Alright tell'em I'll be there in about a half an hour. I hope this hasn't been too much trouble for you."

"No no. No trouble at all."

"Well thank you again." There's a click on the other end of the line.

Eliza went to the front door. Opened it just ajar, and hollard through the narrow opening.

"Mr. Branigan?...He didn't respond. "Must not have heard me, M-I-CHAEL?" She called louder.

He turned around, smiled and ran halfway up the Walk..."Yes ma'am?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I rang Mr. McNeely just as you asked, and he said to tell you that he'd be here in half an hour."

"Thank you ma'am for your trouble!" He said smiling and tipping his hat once more, then walked back to the sidewalk looking down at his wrist watch.

Eliza returned to the comfort of the easy chair, finished what was left of the popcorn and drank the last bit of suntea left in the glass and began to tidy and straighten things up, humming as she went along. She stood at the kitchen sink, staring out the window at the darkness washing dishes, pausing only briefly from time to time, day-dreaming and fretting over poor John and Margot, as she always did after each episode.

"Poor Margot!" She whimpered out loud, cupping her hand around her throat. "What that poor woman must have endured as Philip...,(She imagines herself as Margot) Then when he-. Well I just can't imagine how someone could be so viscous!...And poor J-o-hn, I can't imagine what must've been going through his mind when he came back and found Margot lying there in such a- and then to know that his very own flesh and blood had done it!" She sighed. "I guess you can just never tell what people are really like. Even your own FLESH and BLOOD!" She exclaimed, drying her hands with the dish towel.

She walked back to the living room. Her thoughts returned to the young man outside. She stood a moment pondering and approached the door, pulled back the lace ever so slightly, peering clandestine on the unwary stranger.

It crossed her mind that her current behavior was not unlike that of Mrs. Ingersoll. A fact that she found uncomfortable, but not enough to quash her curiosity.

The young man was now holding an umbrella, standing with his back to the porch staring to the left towards Taft st.

"... I don't recall him holding an umbrella before." She mumbled to herself. " Must've been in that bag...Hmm, wonder what he's sellin'?... Probably vacuum cleaners from the looks of that b-a-g."

The young man looks at his watch again, then to the right and back to the left towards Taft.

...."MR. B-r-a-nigan." She says. "Such a handsome young man...I wonder if you're dangerous?...Oh wouldn't that be something if he was? Just imagine the excitement in this dreary little place, if just once, someone were to meet their demise by means other than natural causes." She giggles softly.

" Now stop talking that way Eliza Jane Whittle!" She quickly repremands herself. "You sound positively evil. You know you'd never wish ill will on anybody. Except maybe Mrs. Ingerso- N-o-o, not even Mrs. Ingersoll! Muffy on the other hand." She says decidedly.

"Of course that's been taken care of, that won't be a problem any longer." She smiles sardonically.

The young man moves the bulky bag behind him, and sits down on it.

"So tell me, are you a threat Mr. Michael Branigan?"

The young man peers up at the stormy sky that appears to be growing anxious the longer he waits, and glances back down at his watch again. A sudden clash of thunder startles him.

Eliza continues peering as though lost deep in thought. Studying her subject with keen interest.

"N-o-o, I suppose not! You're just an average, nice, handsome young fella trying to support his family. And that's how it should be. It'd be such a shame if that young man were to ever end up in pris-"

The thought was interrupted as the the young man stood abruptly, waving to approaching head lights, as a blue Cadillac pulled up slowly to a stop in front of Mrs. Whittle's house.

She sighed deeply as though she were at a loss, watching as the young man hurriedly climbed into the car that quickly sped off down the winding street out of view.

"Well, I reckon that's the most excitement I'll be having this evening. Guess I'll turn in early tonight."

She went about the house, making sure the lights were all out and that things were as they ought to be before retiring for the evening.

All was well, so she headed down the hall towards the bedroom. A slight chill in the air and the faintest hint of a breeze caught her attention.

"Now where's that coming from?" She wondered. "I bet I forgot and left the blasted window open this morning, tryin' to shoo out that pesky fly...Darn thing kept landin' on my nose. It tickled something fierce!...kept wakin' me up." She complained as she made her way into the bedroom and found her chiffon curtains billowing in the breeze, with a puddle of water lying beneath the window.

"I suppose I'd better get the mop. It won't do the wood floor any good to leave it sitting there till morning." She said grunting as she struggled to lower the window.

Continued in Part II...

---