MARTHA:
Outside, yes.
SOUND:
BRING UP OUTDOORS. IT’S EVENING NOW. NEMEROFF APPROACHES.
ATKINSON:
(SLIGHTLY OFF-MIC, GROWING LOUDER AS NEMEROFF GETS CLOSER) Sun’s gone down, but it’s no cooler. Man’s not responsible for what he might do in this heat.
NEMEROFF:
So you said.
ATKINSON:
Martha never asked me to read aloud for her.
NEMEROFF:
She said she liked my voice. I didn’t mean to-
ATKINSON:
Forget it, forget it. Doesn’t matter. Smoke?
NEMEROFF:
No, no thanks. I quit.
ATKINSON:
You’re wise beyond your years. These things’ll kill you. But I like to smoke when I think. Or think when I smoke, I’m not sure which. You still have that sketch?
NEMEROFF:
Of course.
ATKINSON:
Let me see it again.
SOUND:
NEMEROFF PRODUCES THE SKETCH AND UNFOLDS IT.
ATKINSON:
Hmm. (Pauses as he looks it over) I wondered if maybe we were mistaken – maybe the heat was playing tricks with our minds, but- Nope. No doubt it’s me. And on trial.
NEMEROFF:
Er, you– I hope you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Atkinson, but – uh, do you know of anything you’ve done that you could be put on trial for?
ATKINSON:
No. I’ve done nothing. Hmph! (WITH A CHUCKLE) Not yet.
NEMEROFF:
Not yet?
ATKINSON:
That watering can full?
NEMEROFF:
Watering..?
ATKINSON:
At your feet.
SOUND:
NEMEROFF LIFTS THE CAN, THE WATER SPLASHES AROUND INSIDE.
NEMEROFF:
About half-full.
ATKINSON:
Half-full, eh? Wouldn’t have pegged you for an optimist, Mr. Nemeroff. Mind if I have it?
NEMEROFF:
Sure.
ATKINSON:
Thanks.
SOUND:
HE WATERS THE FLOWERS AS HE TALKS.
ATKINSON:
I water these babies twice a day in the hot weather, and the heat still gets the better of the delicate ones. And ferns, good Lord! They could never stand it. So, where do you live?
NEMEROFF:
Umm... Thataway... I think. I’ve been walking a while.
SOUND:
HE SETS DOWN THE CAN.
ATKINSON:
Look, it’s like this. We need to look at the matter straight. If you go back home tonight, you’re taking a chance.
NEMEROFF: A chance?
ATKINSON:
This isn’t the best part of town. A car could run you over in the dark, you could fall in a pothole and break your neck. I think the best thing is for you to stay here till the morning or at least till midnight.
NEMEROFF:
Midnight? Won’t it be more dangerous to leave then?
ATKINSON:
What’s the headstone say? Date of death – today. But by midnight, it’ll be tomorrow – get it?
NEMEROFF:
Okay -- yeah.
ATKINSON:
So... what do you say?
NEMEROFF:
Umm... fine. Yes. Good idea.
ATKINSON:
Let’s go back inside. We’ll go in the basement, it might be cooler.
MUSIC:
AN ACCENT – A BRIDGE THEN OUT.
SOUNDS:
(TOOLS SHARPENED)
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) I am sitting in a long, low room beneath the first floor that serves as Atkinson’s workroom. Atkinson has sent his wife to bed and he’s busy sharpening some tools at a little workbench, and smoking another cigarette. I’ve tried to make small talk with him but he’s too intent on his work to answer.
MUSIC:
IN AND UNDER.
SOUND:
NEMEROFF UNFOLDS THE SKETCH.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) I take out the sketch from my pocket and unfold it. As I look at the sketch, I focus my attention on the fuzzy outline of what the man in the picture is holding in his right hand.
SOUND:
WITH A FEW STROKES, HE COMPLETES THE SKETCH.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) Using my pencil, I make a few short strokes and complete the sketch. In doing so, what the man is holding suddenly becomes clear. It is... a chisel.
MUSIC:
FADES OUT.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) And it is stained – with dark liquid.
SOUND:
DISTANT THUNDER ROLLS OMINOUSLY.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) The sketch is now complete. (PAUSE) The air seems charged with thunder. And I can hear it – in the distance. It is ominous but – but it carries the hope of rain.
MUSIC:
IN AND UNDER.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) And perhaps the God-awful heat will break soon. And the day will be over. It is close to twelve. Midnight. It’s almost -- tomorrow.
SOUND:
THUNDER SUBSIDES. CHISEL SHARPENED GROWS LOUDER.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) I am writing this at a– at a shaky table before the open window. The leg is cracked, and Atkinson, who seems to be a handy man with his tools, will no doubt mend it as soon as he’s finished putting an edge on his – chisel.
MUSIC:
OUT.
SOUND:
CLOCK STARTS TO CHIME TWELVE – CHISEL SHARPENED STEADILY – UNDER.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) There it is - twelve. The day is over. And I’ll be going home. But the heat. The heat – is stifling.
ATKINSON:
(SIGHS, GROANS, GRUNTS)
SOUND:
CLOCK CONTINUES TO CHIME – ATKINSON STOPS SHARPENING – RISE, FOOTSTEPS UNDER.
NEMEROFF:
(NARRATES) This heat – is enough to... drive a man -- mad.
ATKINSON:
(GRUNTS)
MUSIC:
SOMBER – TO COMMIT MURDER BY – BLENDS WITH CLOCK CHIMES – BUILDS TO A CONCLUSION – THEN OUT.
NARRATOR:
I warned you, premonitions are not to be taken lightly. For James Franklyn Nemeroff, a premonition mixed with the oppressive August heat proved deadly. Fact: In the United States, statistics show that more murders are committed at 92 degrees Fahrenheit than at any other temperature. Even though Charles Atkinson swears he has no memory of the crime, the jury had little trouble convicting him. For at the murder scene were three very incriminating pieces of evidence: the blood-stained mason chisel, Nemeroff’s sketch of Atkinson and Nemeroff’s manuscript – which, if it is to be believed, came to an abrupt conclusion as the clock began to strike Midnight.
By the way, Nemeroff’s sketch of Atkinson ended up accompanying several newspaper articles on the murder – ironic? Some may think so, but then again irony is only one small ingredient in these – DREADTIME STORIES.
ANNOUNCER:
“A Heated Premonition” was written for radio by Carl Amari and M.J. Elliott, based on the story “August Heat” by W. F. Harvey. Heard in the cast were:
A Heated Premonition Page 4
