Episode 664 - Your Lyon Eyes (Jeff Regan, Investigator)

Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker's road. And those who travel it wind up in the gutter of the prison of the grave. The story you're about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. The Adventures of Sam Spade, Detective. The Adventures of the Saint, starring Vincent Price. Bob Bailey in the exciting adventures of the man with the action-packed expense account. America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Yo, it's truly Johnny Duller. Hello and welcome to Down These Mean Streets and more old-time radio detectives and crime solvers. Our month-long salute to Jack Webb continues this week with one of his earliest starring roles in a nationwide show, Jeff Regan Investigator. Last week we heard Pat Novak for Hire, the hard-boiled drama that first put Webb on the map, initially as a regional production, and then later as a show that went out across the country. In between his runs as Pat Novak, Webb starred in the copycat series Johnny Madero, Pier 23, and in July 1948 he went on the air at CBS as Jeff Regan. Regan was an operative of the International Detective Bureau, an agency run by Anthony J. Lyon that earned Regan the nickname The Lyon's Eye. Lyon loved money, and there was no paying client he turned down, no matter how shady they seemed or how dangerous a job they presented, and he wasn't reluctant to throw Regan under the bus at the slightest opportunity. Lyon was played first by Wilms Herbert, who was about a year away from playing Sergeant Otis on Richard Diamond. Later Lyon was played by Herb Butterfield, a busy radio character actor who played the chief to Brian Donlevy on Dangerous Assignment. Webb starred as Regan until December 1948. Producer William Frugz says Webb was fired when he asked for a $15 a week raise, but whatever the reason, Webb was out, and would be over at ABC as Pat Novak a few months later. Jeff Regan returned to CBS in October 1949 with Frank Graham starring, and Frank Nelson as a more comedic version of Anthony J. Lyon. That version of the show ran until September 1950, and it ended abruptly when Graham tragically took his own life. Like Pat Novak, Jeff Regan was a world-weary cynical character, well suited for Webb's trademark delivery, but he didn't have the same writing as Novak. Richard Breen penned those ultra-hard-boiled scripts, and the Regan episodes are arguably better in terms of plot, but not as strong with their dialogue and atmosphere. No surprise on the plots, as the Regan shows were largely written by veteran radio mystery writers like Jackson Gillis, E. Jack Newman, and Larry Roman. It's by no means a bad show, it just suffers when compared to Pat Novak. Today we'll hear Jack Webb as Jeff Regan in four radio mysteries. The lady with the golden hair from July 31, 1948, the man in the door from August 28, 1948, the man who fought back from November 27, 1948, and the gambler and his lady from December 11, 1948. We'll get 10 a day in expenses as the lion's eye, and we'll kick things off with Jack Webb as Jeff Regan right after these messages. The ladies watch goes to Mrs. A. O. Nobles Jr. of Gainesville, Florida. First suggestion tells you how to remove the printed die from sugar bags or white-feed bags. She suggests you dampen the bags with kerosene and sprinkle on Carrie's table salt, then roll them up tight and let them stand overnight. Next day, just wash in soapy water and watch the die rinse away. Sounds like a wonderful idea. And here's the winner of the man's watch. He is Mr. Sandy Riza of Cleburne, Texas, and he bases his suggestion on 30 years of experience. He says, the best thing I have ever found for smoothing rough gears and silencing their noise is the use of Carrie's salt mixed with gear grease or compounds. Congratulations to both of the winners, and folks if you'd like to win one of these beautiful watches, listen for the easy rules later in this program. Meanwhile, remember, there's a fine Carrie salt for every farm and home use. There's deep penetrating Carrie's table salt, Carrie's meat curing salt, Carrie's mineral supplement salt, and many others. Always look for the white-brite box or cotton with a bright red band. Are you looking for a smooth shave, men? Then try Fitch's No Brush Shaving Green. It'll give you the kind of shave you want because 40 years of experience have gone into the making of this product. Fitch's No Brush contains a special skin conditioner ingredient that takes the work out of shaving. You won't have to struggle and scrape against stubborn whiskers because the skin conditioner prepares your face beforehand. It holds the whiskers up so your razor can zip them down closely and quickly. Even against the grain of a tough beard, your razor will glide swiftly, never nicking or scraping. Fitch's No Brush is a boon to sensitive faces because it lubricates gently, keeping that tender skin from being irritated. After this quick easy shave, your skin will feel cool and refreshed, wonderfully smooth. And if you prefer a lather cream, try Fitch's Brush Cream. It forms a rich, abundant lather when applied with a brush. This lather stays moist all during the shave. Fitch's Brush Cream also contains the special skin conditioner for sensitive faces. Fitch's Brush and Fitch's No Brush shaving cream are available in handy 25 and 50 cent sizes. For a shave you like, switch to Fitch. From coast to coast, Ford owners agree the big new Ford brings you more for your money. More in comfort, more in performance, and more in economy. But only through personal experience can you appreciate the restful ease of Ford's famous midship ride and the luxurious comfort of Ford's non-sag foam rubber cushion front seat. Only by driving this great car can you enjoy its smooth power and solid rotability. And only by getting the facts about Ford's economy can you understand that so powerful, so smooth riding and so beautiful a car can cost so little to buy. To run and to maintain. Find out how much it saves you. Yes, before you buy any car at any price, it will pay you to stop by your local Ford dealers. Take the wheel of the 100 horsepower V8 or its companion in quality, the 95 horsepower 6. Once you've driven it, you'll agree the new Ford is the one truly fine car in the low price field. When a cloud bursts and fresh clean rain falls on a grove of rich green pine, it's so nice. And now that same clean scent of pine is in. New Pine Scented Lysol. Right. Now the one and only genuine Lysol brand disinfectant comes in a new pine scent. It disinfects, deodorizes, as nothing else does, kills disease germs on contact. In laboratory tests, Lysol's anti-germ action kept working for seven full days. A bottle costs as little as 29 cents and it's so easy to use. Just add new pine scented Lysol to your suds when you clean in bathroom, kitchen, nursery, sick room. Use pine scented Lysol because Lysol deep cleans. Make your home. Pine, sweet, and Lysol clean. You can still get regular Lysol too. I dedicate this program to the fight against crime. Not merely crimes of violence and crimes of dishonesty, but crimes of intolerance, discrimination, and bad citizenship. Crimes against America. When Anthony J. Lyon cashes in on somebody's trouble, it means money for him. For me, it means work. I'm Jeff Regan, the lion's private eye. Here's the kind of program you've been waiting to hear. Hard-boiled action and mystery as told by Jeff Regan investigator. So stand by for trouble, stand by for suspense, stand by for adventure. In tonight's story, The Lady with the Golden Hair. And now here's Jack Webb as Jeff Regan. Well, this is the way it started. I was sitting in the lion's den waiting for him to get off the phone so I could ask him about my expense sheet on that new orange thing. I don't care what kind of a thing. He was playing the usual games with his lawyer. Just about the time he hung up and turned his chair my way, the office door. All right, Regan, what do you want? A-ha! A little curly-headed man about 40 dressed in a black suit was standing there. He was holding a stack of $50 bills, a gold-headed king, and a red card in one hand. In his other, he had a black derby with a hole through the top of it, a pair of suede gloves and a white carnation. He stood there, looked at both of us. The lion looked at the $50 bills. I looked at the little man. Aha! You are Mr. Lion, no? I, Max Vladne, have come to see you unappointed. Where you are? My name's Regan. This is Mr. Lion. Aha! You will do it! Won't you sit down, Mr. Lion? Max Vladne, Vladne, Max. 164, two more Holland Drive, Hollywood 28, an Imperial Studio payroll. Time I do not have. I will not sit. Aha! I demonstrate. See you. That flower I do not need. This, a ticket because I too long park, I also do not need. Cain I place here, a gift from my grandfather, I keep that. Also Gloves. Now, what have I left, gentlemen? Quite a bundle of cabbages, of cash, Mr. Vladne. From bank I just arrived. Also this I do not need. For you, all for you. Well, well, well, Mr. Vladne. Aha! Now, what I have? You I answer myself. Bullet hole in heart. See you. It is not finished. One, two, three. Those look like 38 slugs. What did you get them? Out of Dorvey, I dig them where I'm shot last night in my home. Who's shooting at you, Mr. Vladne? This, if I know, I shoot back. I have no enemies. Everyone is madly in love with Max Vladne. I must buy new hats. Cannot buy new hats. Kindly you will guard my body from dying. Of course, of course. Now, you've certainly come to the right place, Mr. Vladne. If your life has been threatened, you can depend on International Detective Bureau to see that no harm comes to you. Therefore, it is so. We see. I understand perfectly. Well, if somebody shot at you last night, why didn't you call the police? Mr. Regan meant to ask who recommended you to International. Aha, I explained. In Imperial Motion Picture Studio, where master of makeup, Max Vladne, who is great, is imported to create beautiful faces from skinny skulls and fat necks, is much newspaper. Free sometimes for agents to press. Hollywood police might think because I work on great, gone epic, tie my rope tight, is free trick for agents to press. But it's not joke. To you, I come to take no chance. Yeah. In I am, Mr. Regan. Of course you're in, Mr. Vladne. And Mr. Regan here will stick right by your side until we can get to the bottom. No, wait a minute. If I have to, I'll use every man in my staff to protect your life, Mr. Vladne. All the resources of International Detective Bureau are behind you. Regan, I'm entrusting you with Mr. Vladne's life. All the ready, better I feel. Vista. And call me, Regan. Call me. I know. Call you if I run into trouble. Come on, Max. Aha. Well, you can see how it was. Max Vladne's car was parked in a red zone in front of the building, and there was another ticket on it. He tore that one up too. On the way out to his house, I tried to get a little more information, but it didn't come too much. He couldn't figure out why somebody was shooting at him or who was doing it. It was about six o'clock when we pulled up in front of his house on Mulholland Drive, one of those little places with the big sun ports in front of it and an egg-shaped swimming pool in front of that. He was pulling things out of his pocket, looking for the keys of the front door when it happened. See? See what I tell you? All the time shooting at Max, if someone... All right, get out. Get out. What I tell you, my heart is full again of hope. All right, shut up. You aren't hit. He's frightening me. Well, unless he's got a machine gun, he can't find anything more. Wait. Where are you going? You leave Max to be killed. I'm going after him. Stay right here. You'll be all right. I started for the heavy brush outside the clearing of the house where white gun smoke still hung around the trees, and then I saw him. It was a gray-haired man, stocky billed glasses, about 100 feet away running down the hill waving the gun. I went after him, but I couldn't get a clear shot. He was quite an acrobat. He dived over a wooden road bracer and went skidding down the embankment. By the time I got there, he was winding into an old Chevy convertible and he took off in a cloud of dust. I couldn't see the license plate on the car. Oh, Max, darling, this is absolutely terrible, terrible, darling. Something like this happening to you. Oh, Max, why would anyone want to do such a thing? It's beyond me. I got back to the house ten minutes later, and there was a black convertible in the driveway and a very blonde girl in the doorway. She was digging the new slugs out of the woodwork with a pen knife. Max was lying on one of the beach chairs. When the blonde girl saw me, she pulled off her sunglasses and held on her hand. How do you do your, Mr. Dinkins? How do you do your, Mr. Regan? Did you kill him? I got away. Oh, and I am again to be shot at. You say he got away, then you saw who it was. Part of him. Who are you? Oh, he beg my pardon. This is Hilda Greyham. You have seen her in pictures. The hair. I have seen her differently. She's my wife almost. Did you see anybody? Well, I heard the shots as I drove up and found poor Max by the door. He's got to stop this business, Mr. Regan. He's got to stop next time maybe. But he certainly does have to stop, Mr. Regan. Max, why he's the finest makeup artist in the world. He had great lost everyone in Hollywood if anything ever happened to him. You see, am I valuable? Did I not tell you? Yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh, where's your phone? Oh, in there, in my private workshop. A study where I had to leave. Use it please. Call Mr. Lyon and start the shooting. Oh, Max. Darling, if it doesn't work out, the last war you were going to be in, the time I should be with you, something too nice and so helpful. Lyon, this is me. This is me. I'm calling from Max's. Somebody just threw six bullets all over the place. What? Is Max all right? Didn't even come close. Oh, good, good. The treasure department tells me he paid 20,000 last year in income tax, and he can afford little protection. However it is, got away. I think we ought to turn this over to the cops. The cops? And let them do for free what we're getting paid to do? Not on your life, Regan. What about his life? Well, we'll worry about that too. Now listen, I'm sending Joe Cantale out there to give you a hand. Now this lad is a first-class gold mine, as far as I'm concerned, and that means as far as you're concerned. I don't care what you... Until then, do anything you want. So long as you're stick by Max, you don't call the cops. That's a fair label. Roof phoning, Mr. Regan. Yeah, you want one? No thanks. I've something much better than that at my house. I'll bet you have. I live all alone in Toluca Lake. End of the canyon. I remember that when I get thirsty. Who do you suppose is shooting at Max? You tell me, lady, I just met him. I thought you said you saw whoever it was. I did. Well, aren't you going to look for him and send out an alarm of whatever you do? Yeah, whatever we do. I see. Don't you think you ought to be in there holding hands with Max? He's had a hard day. Max, oh, he's resting now. Do you think he's the kind I'd really have something in common with? I wouldn't know, lady. Well, as a matter of fact, I was just leaving. I have to meet the studio early tomorrow. If there's anything I can do at all, I'd be happy to. Yeah, why don't you start by giving me those slugs you were digging out of the doorway? Oh, I completely forgot about those. Here, I meant to give them to you. Thanks. I'll need these. Really, whatever on it for? Comparison test. The ejector marks, the firing pin, dense. You can tell if they were firing the same gun if you want to look into it. And of course, being a detective, you want to look into it. That's right. I want to look into it. Well, Mr. Reagan, it's been nice meeting you. I know you'll take good care of me. If there's anything I can do. Yeah, I'll give you a ring. Honestly. Do we meet again? I followed her out the door and watched her pat Max on the head, kiss him on the cheek. And then she slid under the wheel of that convertible like she'd been built right along with it. That famous golden hair was blowing behind her by the time she got onto the main road. Be careful, careful. Oh, lovely, she's beautiful. Oh, lovely, she is, Mr. Reagan. Yeah, Maxine, she's just fine. For her too, you must keep me alive. She needs me. Yeah. What now? We wait for another guy. Ah-ha, reinforcers! I like you, Mr. Reagan. Already better, I feel. Only me, Reagan, take it easy. Oh, Kato, come on in. What took you so long? I stopped by Poli's Ballistics on the way out. I had them 38 slugs that Max brought in check. Well, I'll get some more for you. Well, I found a winner. Gun belongs to a fella named Pete Burger. There ain't no permit on it. He'd done 6 to 18 San Quentin once, a robbery. It sprung a couple years ago. Address? Yeah, that place on Fickle Roll right off the Sunset. Here. Thanks. I was around again this afternoon, shooting things all over the place. I wonder what the connection is. I'm gonna find out before Maxi does. You take over, Joe. Okay, where's our clay pigeon there? Roosting in there. Keep your eyes open, Kato. I'll get back as soon as I can. Oh, take your time, son. Joy the canto is on the job. Yeah, I feel better already. Hey, hey, do you know how to play Carolina in the morning? What's that Carolina meaning? Well, well, well, there isn't a stranger in our midst, boy. Hey, hey, hey, get a look at that. Where your white shirt in the off? Early air. Hey, sure, Sean. It's got big paint. Yeah, also big paint. What about me, mister? Mom's champagne. I'm gonna get you some. Also big paint. What about me, mister? Mom's champagne or beer? Neither one, lady. Well, we ain't got either one for you. Copper. Mm-mm, you picked wrong tonight. Flossie never picks them wrong. I can tell by your feet. You're paid by the city or you're a private peeper in somebody else's pageant. Makes no difference to me. All spell copper. What do you want? No fuss with you, Flossie. I'm looking for Pete Burger. Who? Pete Burger. This is his last address. Ain't never heard of no Pete Burger. Neither is anybody else. And he ain't never lived here. And you got a wrong steer. That door leads to rooms upstairs? Yeah, that door leads to rooms upstairs. Mind if I take a look? I mind a lot of things, Seamus. And taking a look is one of them. All right. This Pete Burger you don't know, never heard of. I was throwing a lot of lead around yesterday and today and I'm gonna take a look anyway. Wait. Hey, hey, you can't go up there. I was only halfway up when a man on a gray sweatshirt banked over the top of the stairs. There were three red holes just about the center of the sweatshirt bank. Turned around and tried to say something. I saw what was gonna happen and I hugged the side of the baluster. Oh, Pete! Pete! Pete! Pete, oh, Pete, oh, Pete, oh, Pete. She ran over and was kneeling beside him, holding his head in her arms, rocking back and forth. Yeah, you guessed it. It was the same man I chased all afternoon and he didn't live five seconds. Music We'll return to Jeff Regan, investigator in just a moment. But first, here's an important message from the adjutant general's office. At no time in our nation's history has it been more important to develop an outstanding army medical department. Without an adequate nurse corps, this cannot be accomplished. And nurses are still needed to fill the estimated requirements for 1948. If you're a graduate registered nurse, over 21 and under 45, you are invited to apply for a commission in the Army Nurse Corps Reserve. If you are selected, you may choose either active duty or inactive status. Applied to the adjutant general, Washington, 25 D.C. Music And now, back to the story of the lady with the golden hair. And Jeff Regan, investigator. Music Well, after he came falling down the stairs at me and Flossie had a good cry over him, there wasn't anything to do but to call Central Homicide. They got there a few minutes later and went over the whole place taking pictures and prints. Finally, a wagon pulled up, took what was left of Pete Berger down to the morgue. Detective Lieutenant Salvatore Wendetti, up to Homicide, asked everybody a lot of questions and shipped a couple of people downtown for a couple of different things and finally got around to me. Regan, Regan, Regan, I think you ought to get yourself a new job every time the lion growls your wind up with a corpse someplace that somebody has to ask you a question. That wasn't my idea, Sally. I might have to book you on technical charge. Oh, stop it, will ya? You know I didn't have anything to do with him getting shot. Now, the next car named Pete Berger gets topped off just before a private dick gets around asking him a few questions. I got asked the private dicks in questions myself or else a chief is going to ask me some questions. Make sense? All I know is that somebody's been shooting an aclantemite. And that's somebody's Pete Berger. How do you know? Bullets came from a gun owned by Pete Berger, so I came down to see him. Only he walks out all loaded down with 45 slugs and dies before you can say hello. Isn't that the bomb? Who's your client, Regan? Do I have to tell you? No, but you will. Company policy. Company policy. Confidence at a client, Regan! Can you arrest me for anything? Depends. Material witness, maybe. While it's depending, I'll get a hold of the lion, he'll get a hold of Harry Presidio, and then I'll bet you ten bucks will be a writ of habeas corpus at the station by the time you get me there. All right, all right, all right, you're clear. This is a murder case, Regan. That's a serious crime in anybody's town. I don't know any more than I just told you so. You know the name of your client? Okay. Okay. Why was Pete shooting at him? That's what I was going to ask Pete. Oh, now just exactly where does that put us? My client's safe and sound in his home, and Joe Canto's keeping an eye on him. When Canto was pounding a beat for the department, some guys got away from him. A lot of guys get away from a lot of cops, but not when the cops watching. Canto's good at that, you know him. Oh, sure, sure, sure. What did you just talk about? Well, it's no good. Before Pete Berger went to San Quentin, he was never very handy with a gun, because his eyes were so bad he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. He didn't hit anything yesterday or today, but he was sure trying. Now, flossy told me Pete's been playing stop man in pictures, making a buck out of it. It seems he learned all his tricks while he was in the clink. They have a nice gym up there. They never tell what they'll do next. Still, can't understand why he'd all of a sudden go around shooting at somebody. Unless maybe there was something personal that Pete had to do it. And whoever Pete was shooting at kind of saw or turned around and plugged Pete tonight, huh? My client's home safe. They'll shoot, shoot. Cato's good. Almost forgotten. Pete Berger was a perfect set up for a wise guy. My next conno done 15 years, who learns his lesson once he makes a straight dime, gets mad when anybody bothers. Blackmail. It's been done before. Pete had a good healthy bank balance. I guess he was saving up for his old age. But some wise guy finds out Pete's a con, says, I'll tell you boss unless you kick in, then maybe Pete starts shooting to scare him into shutting up. Makes sense. Sounds like an old fairy tale, Sally. But screwing up to be the answer. Only this wise guy Pete's shooting that thinks Pete might be mean to business. He comes over here tonight and plugs Pete. And who's the wise guy? Your client. You're not going to tell me his name? I can't involve a client in a murder. Oh yeah, company policy. I almost forgot. Regan, I'll find out in the morning. We got some lawyers too. I know. Couldn't tell me now. I'll phone you in an hour, Sally. Okay. Okay, Regan. You can talk to him first. But phone me. Good night. Night, Regan. See you around. My watch said four o'clock by the time I got to the hills back a Laurel Canyon and started up Mulholland Drive. The usual fog was in the usual places, doing the usual things to trees and houses. And when I pulled up in front of Max's house, one light was burning in the window. The rest of the house looked dark. Everything was quiet. The first thing I noticed was cordite. It smells black and it means that guns have been fired. The whole room was full of it. Max Vladimir was lying half on the floor and half on the table he used for a workshop. A bottle of spirit gum was spilled on the floor along with some false blonde hair and a crack wig block. He had one free arm around a white plaster cast of a head, just like it was a doll. There were two blue holes in the middle of his farm. I just stood there looking at him when I heard a noise in back of me. It was candle and he was on the floor at the foot of the bed. Oh, no, don't try to move me, Regan. I've been laying here waiting for you. It's in my lungs somewhere. I don't think I got any blood to spare. Enjoy, boy, let you down. It happened an hour after you left. I don't know who done it. A lot of noise in Max's room and I come in. The next thing I know that I'm taking a slug myself. Hey, hey, call me a doc, will you, Regan? I've got a date tomorrow night. She's been trying to get rid of me. Does it give her a good excuse? Guess Lyon will think that. Call me a doc, Regan, right quick. Well, I made a lot of phone calls before it was all over. Hollywood receiving hospital, Wendetti, Central homicide, and I got the Lyon out of bed and told him what had happened. He said he'd meet me at the hospital. I hung around a while and talked to Wendetti. He didn't have much to say. When he got through poking around, he gave me a lift as far as the hospital. The Lyon was standing around the hall when I got there. It was the first time I'd ever seen him look tired. Hello, Regan. I just talked to the doctor. He's going to cause plity. How bad is it? 25 bucks a day for a room, plus surgery. Oh, I mean, candle. Oh, well, the bullet penetrated up or low of his right lung. Here, they pull this out. 45 slug. Who shoots 45s that good? Lots of people. Same kind of people who go around killing Pete Berger and Max Vladni. Yeah. Candle getting himself shots, going to eat up every penny we might have made on this thing. There's money all you ever think of. What else is there to think about? You got it, you're fine. You haven't got it, you're nothing but a bum. One of your own men is lying in there, wondering if he's ever going to live or die, and he took that slug because you sent him on the job. Everybody dies. I'll give him a citation. You big pile of blubber. I ought to push you out of window. Now talk like that isn't going to help anything. No, but I know what it is. Now wait a minute, Regan. This is a police job. Oh, now it's a police job. Yeah, like I told you. And you can't go running around sticking your snoot into a couple of killings and giving international a lot of bad publicity. Now get this, Fatso. I'm going out and find the guy who plugged Candle. Now you listen to me. I want it down in the books and the papers and any place else than an international operator brought in the guy who killed one of their clients and shot one of their men. Now I won't be responsible for anything that happens. Okay, if you don't like the way I do things, you can pull my license right off the wall and get yourself another boy. Hey, hey, where you going? Come back. Well, Mr. Regan, when I saw you at Max's yesterday afternoon, I didn't think you would come by for that drink at six o'clock in the morning. Well, come in. Come in, thank you. I was just having coffee. I have to be at the studio for an early makeup job. You look all right for me the way you are. Well, you can be nice. Will you have some coffee? No, thanks. Oh. I just stopped by for a minute. I was afraid I have some tough news for you. Max, something happened to Max. He's dead. Oh, no. Not Max. Somebody shot him three hours ago. Why would anyone want to kill Max? That's what I'm going to find out. Max expected me to marry him here. So, I'm going to play him. What can I do to help Mr. Regan? What can I do? All right, now look. A smart cop named Wendett is going to be knocking on your door pretty soon. He's going to ask you a lot of questions about Max. Give me the answers first. Would you mind terribly if we sat down? Max was on my head. I want to be near someone. Sure. I know I'm acting silly about this. What is it I can tell you, Mr. Regan? Max ever mentioned a man named Pete Berger? No, never heard that name before. He worked at the same studio. He was the one that shot at Max yesterday afternoon. And he killed Max? No, he's dead too. He was shot to death an hour earlier I was there. I'm not very good at this kind of thing. What are you trying to tell me, Mr. Regan? Both of these killings were done by an amateur and not very good jobs. But there had to be some reason. I don't know. I've been in the business a long time, lady. Too long. People kill for money or love or just for the crazy feel of blasting a gun at somebody. This has been a lot for you. I know. If you find a reason, you find a killer. What kind of work would a makeup man be doing at home? I don't know. Max always tried to improve his work. I suppose that's why he made the money, dear. He might have made a plaster cast of a head so he could study a face. I suppose so. Yes. Your face? Yes, I suppose so. Why? It's a nice face. I've seen it in pictures. Most press agents think my hair is nicer. Yeah, it is. Long, open hair. It feels soft and warm. The way you hope it would feel. Yeah, it does. And my lips? I don't feel bad doing this. I never did love Max. I wasn't dead at all. I was terribly ill several years ago. He helped me. I can see why he felt the way he did about you. Can you? I like the way you did that. I know what Max had been working on. It was something for you. Really? It was holding a plaster cast of your head in his arms when I found him. Of course, there was no hair on it. It looked kind of funny. Don't say that. Don't ever say a thing like that. Yeah, no, I got it. What are you talking about? Murder lady, lots of it. You killed a poor ex-con because he bungled a job you blackmailed him into doing. You shot him last night because I was going to talk to him. Why would I do it? Then you went over and you killed Max. I've got to be a reason. Every newspaper in the country is going to carry this story. Hilda Graham, the one with all the long golden hair, is really as bald as a fresh head. Shut up! You don't do anything like that in front of me. Why are you... Go ahead, lady. Pick up that paperweight and I'll break you in two. Come on, let's go. No, you can't. You mustn't. If I'm done about my hair, please, please don't tell him about my hair. I couldn't stand that. Oh, please, do you know how nice I can be? Lady, you're a bum. Well, Max had been trying to get her to marry him and she didn't want to marry anybody, so she killed him. The police stenographer scratched his head on that one until I explained there was her hair, that long golden hair. Only it wasn't hers. It was a wig that Max had fixed up for her. She'd lost all hers when she was sick and couldn't stand the thought of anybody going around knowing it wasn't her own. Well, I guess you're running to all kinds. A couple of days later, I saw Kanta at the hospital. He'd had some transfusions and a lot of other things. He was coming along fine. I was reading a paper when I walked in. Oh, right. So what is what, huh? Hi, Joe. I've been reading about that Hilda Graham. Too bad they don't take her pictures out of all that pretty hair. It's a little rye. Yeah. How are you feeling? Feet. Reagan, how long we've been working for the line? Too long. How many people have been killed and messed up in that time? That mean you know about the person? Too many. It's one thing I can't get through my nose. Why don't we get some other kind of a job? Real estate or movie exposition? Why do we do it? Why do we do it, Jeff? I don't know, Joe. I don't know. I don't know. Jack Webb is featured as Jeff Regan with Wilms Herbert as that Anthony J. Lyon. It's CBS same time next week for Trouble, Suspense and Thrilling Adventure with Jeff Regan Investigator. The role of Max Flatton, he was played by Hans Conreed with Barton Yarborough as Joe Cantal. Betty Lou Gerson was Hilda Graham. Jack Crucian was Wendetti. Marlo Dwyer was Flossie. Jeff Regan Investigator is written by E. Jack Newman, produced and directed by Gordon T. Hughes with special music by Del Castillo. This program came to you from Hollywood. Bob Lamont speaking for CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. My name is Jeff Regan. I get ten a day and expenses from a detective bureau run by a guy named Lyon, Anthony J. Lyon. They call me the Lyon's Eye. With Jack Webb as Jeff Regan Investigator, stand by for hard-boiled action, mystery and thrilling adventure in tonight's story of The Man in the Door. Well, this is the way it started. The Lyon called about four o'clock that afternoon, said he wanted to see me down at the office. I argued a while and finally told him I'd be there. Melody was sitting in front of her typewriter when I came in, putting a new coat of paint on her nails. She handed me a blank contract with no dates filled in, jerked a thumb toward the Lyon's dent. I went in. Regan, I'm glad you got here. What do you know about architects? They draw things. I know that much, but what about bids and all that stuff? I'll figure out what a building's gonna cost, don't they? Go on. If whoever's paying for the building likes what they write down and they're hired. A couple of architects, maybe three or four, make bids. I suppose so. Lowman gets the job. Why? Our clients and architects named Debbie Haynes, an office in the Park Central Building. He thinks maybe the bank is handling his bid and might try to put something over on him. Banks don't do things like that. He thinks maybe a guy who works at the bank might be taking Doherty's shove his bid under the counter. Why didn't you say that in the first place? Because I'm saying it now. Haynes wants us to look into it. Who do I see? Haynes first. We only talked to him on the phone. I told him we'd have to have a contract in retainer before we did anything. That figures. So hop over there and find out what's what and make him sign that contract and get a check. Anything else? Make sure it's certified and call me if you run into any trouble. Dudley Haynes, architect, Park Central Building, had an office on the ninth floor. When I went in, a girl with hair that figured to be blonde right down to the roots pulled off her glasses and put out her cigarette. And she kind of pees out of her chair behind that desk, moved toward me like a panther looking for a meal. Ma, you're tall aren't you? There's nothing I can do about that. Mr. Lyons said he was sending us one of his best men. He always said that. I think he met us this time. He's an awful liar, lady. Dorothy. Dorothy knows him. The name of the drink? Both. What's yours? Jeff Regan. Well now we know each other. That's nice. I came to see Haynes. He wants me to look into something for him. I know. He's expecting him. I know. Well? I hope you had to look into a lot of things. For Haynes? No. This is his office, isn't it? But he spends most of his time in 902 into the hall. Makes his blueprint up there. I'll take it. You are tall. Well, we started down the hall. We got about ten feet from the frosted glass door at the end. We both stopped. We were looking at the outline of a big man behind the door. Both of us expected him to open it and walk out. He came out alright, but he walked right through it. He's been shot. You know him? My boss. What the hey? It was your boss. Lady's dead. Lieutenant Salvatore Wendetti, central homicide details, showed up about eight minutes after I called. He had his whole goon squad with him and a couple of guys in double-breasted suits from the district attorney's office. They roped off the entrance to the building, got hold of the elevator operators, and the man who runs the cigar stand and asked some questions. Then Wendetti looked at what was left to Haynes and started yelling into a phone. Hey, you can cut it fast. Don't move until my fingerprint boy gets through. Okay, sis, where the guy lives? At the Biltmore Hotel. Where's his wife? We didn't have one. What do we tell? We didn't have any family. So no one's gonna cry? Well, that makes it easier. Rigam, was he your client? No, nobody's a client until he signed a contract, Sally. Well, you were bringing him a contract to sign him and you could do something for him. What? Why, he didn't talk to him. Sis? Mr. Haynes had made an estimate on a little office building in Beverly Hills. He thought that a man named Adler at the bank might be taking money from someone to hold his bid. Tell you what, it wasn't a best to get a look into it. Why do you think that? Well, I don't know. You'll work for him. Well, I don't know everything. Neither do I. How doesn't it? Who's Adler? Oh, it's just a name. Who else? Who else? Who else is making a bid? I don't know that. Now where are we? Kelly! Yes? My name's Adler at the Grand National Bank. Pick him up and have him down to my office in half an hour. Yes? What do you want to do about reporters, Sally? Tell them to go jump in the lake. Yes? They always found my name wrong. How long do you two know each other? An hour. Nice. What do you mean by that? Just nice. Didn't hear any shops? No, we didn't. Tell me more about the bid. What's better to tell? The setup. The bank handles the money. Who says yes? Who says no? The bank, but... But what? The contract usually tells them who to take. Who's that in this case? Contract in Long Beach is me and George Cantrell. I'll say this to you, Regan. When you get mixed up in anything, you're certainly getting mixed up with a good-looking people. I'm not mixed up in anything. What do you say, sis? I'll keep my mouth shut. She's a smart girl, Regan. Hello, honey. We'll be home again. A son guy got himself killed on me on it. Not long, huh? Regan? I'll tell him. Wife says hello. She says come out and have a dinner sometime. Look. Sis, how much that contract worth? On the building in Beverly Hills, about $40,000. Profit? No, overall. Break it out. Well, Mr. Haynes would have paid about $12,000 if he'd gotten it. I know some guys have killed for a dime. Sam, when's Daddy? I'm still at the Park Central Building. Get off the Long Beach and park to a contract named George Cantrell. And, uh, find out what architects were making business and stuff he was gonna put up in Beverly Hills. Yeah, get the names. Oh, care that about doesn't. Let's go. Am I smelling? What? I have to take you down. Jess, can you do that? You're a material witness. Oh, what are you? He's a fire standard with a both-in-law. Well, I do, Dad. Go with him. Why do I want to spend the night in jail? I just work for Mr. Haynes. Uh-huh, no phone calls. It's a murder case. Well, get me a lawyer or something, Jess. You know a lawyer? No. Wait, yes, I do. His name is Dave Henderson. He lives at 1648 Glamon, please. Will you come for me telling him I'm in trouble? Yeah. Jack Sallie? She didn't make a phone call in my life at two. Well, look, he may not be able to do anything for you tonight. It's almost six. But you'll see him as soon as possible. Yeah. Tell him I'm scared, Jess. I'm scared, Steve. Well, I stayed there and phoned the lion, told him what had happened. He got mad and yelled something about me being a jinx on all our clients, and then he hung up. So I went through the classified telephone directory under attorneys and Henderson. There was a Ben, a George, a Joe, a William, but no Dave Henderson. So I drove out to the address that she'd given me. It was a blue apartment house four blocks west of Vermont over by the Coliseum. Somebody was cooking hamburgers somewhere, and somebody was all worked up over a ballgame on the radio. I picked the baseball fan. What'll happen now, is anybody's guessing? Let me tell you that this ballgame is a long way from being a... Hey, what'd I tell you? What'd I tell you? It stops at the ballpark, and they're coming in like homie pigeons. Faces are loaded and they're all coming in. Oh, it's gonna be eight for five. Come on, come on, the ballgame's not that good. What's so important, pilgrim? I'm with the ballgame. I'm looking for a man named Dave Henderson, a lawyer. So what? Somebody told me he lives in this apartment house. Who told you that? A lady. Ha! Does he live here? He's got a living at the mailbox. No name. You cop? Private type. Ha! Does he live here? Jory lives here. Where? End of the hall, 106. Thanks. He's a lawyer, is he? With his kind of friends? Ha! What does that mean? You're young, ain't you, Curly? I got a driver's license. Let me tell you something. Don't go knocking on no doors and hear a ballgame. Remember that. Yeah, I'll remember that. And you can tell him Tessie Bogart is talking about one. And the score is eight to five coming into the first half of the ninth. Then this has been some ballgame. Let me tell you. One nose thick. There we are. Come on in, it's unlocked. Your name, Dave Henderson? Yeah, who wants to know? My name's Regan. I'm a private investigator with the International Detective Bureau. Wrong steer, I'm sure I don't need one. Look, I'm not looking for work. I'm looking for you. What you said was, Regan? That's right. R-E-G-A-N, Regan. Regan. Learned that just an hour ago. Cute, huh? I met a friend of yours today. Dave Henderson never had a friend. He said she was a friend of yours. But I didn't say I was a friend of hers. Hey, who are we talking about anyway? Dorothy Nolan. How is Dorothy? Not so good. That's your word, detective. I am. You sound like a doctor. I'm a doctor. I'm a doctor. You sound like a doctor. Look, you sound like a guy with a chip on his shoulder. You sound like a lot of things. You're trying to be tough. No wonder you aren't in the telephone directory. I'll just skip that. She said you were a lawyer. I say I drank too much. I haven't seen you drinking, have you? She wants you to get in touch with her. The man she was working for was murdered today. She kill him? Well, they're holding her. Material witness or suspect? Material witness right now. She doesn't want to spend the night in jail. Who does? That's why she hasn't seen him together. He wants me to get her up. Something like that. Who sent me the case down there? A detective named Wendetti. And where do you come in? Well, he didn't give her that one phone call. Yeah, yeah. Your sent to me. But if I said no. Well, that's your business. You know why she asked you to see me? Because I'm a guy she knows. And every guy who knows little about D has a little something for her. Have you met him like that, reading? Sometimes. Things have changed. Checking what? She's pretty good with her works. I was just right for the job. Yeah, just right. Everything's just right. She can make you do a lot of things you don't want to do. What do you see on a bathing suit? Well, I aren't wearing them in the county jail. Okay, I'll phone Wendetti and find out what her bond is. This is a murder case. There's no bond on this. You know that. Well, it depends how you handle it. I'll think of something. Yeah, I'll bet you will. We don't like each other much, do we? Nope. That's the way it goes. Listen, she said to tell you she was scared. Well, some of us are scared part of the time. And somebody gets shot and everybody gets scared. You scared? Nope. I am Manweek. Have a good time. Did I say Haynes was shot? No. You didn't say a thing. See you somewhere, paper. Well, I stopped by Mousseau Franks and had the special and then I went on home. I tried to make a couple of calls, but Wendetti was out and the desk sergeant thought I was a reporter and he wouldn't tell me a thing about Dorothy Nolan. While I was sitting there, the phone began jumping around on the hook. Reagan? Yeah. This is me. Where you been? I called you twice and I've called you once. I've been busy seeing a lawyer. Why do you need a lawyer for you, Mary? Somebody else needs one. Who? Dorothy Nolan, that blonde who worked up in Haynes' office when Wendetti's holding her. Good. I want you to get on with Sear. What for? We can still make something on this thing if we play it smart. When I talked to Haynes on the phone this afternoon, I told him I wanted a certified check. So what? So that means there's a check for a hundred bucks lying around his office somewhere. And it's made out to international. Look, he's dead, remember? Everybody dies. Don't worry about it. We weren't even hired. We had a verbal contract. We had nothing. That check's no good to anybody but us. We didn't do anything for him. Well, buy him some flowers. Now hop down to the poke and see that daemon and find out where that check is. We can't do that. I talked to Harry Procedio and he'll give us a lean to get in. Hello? Hello? Regan, you're still there. I was still there, but I wasn't listening to the lion. I was looking at a skinny little man with one leg. I don't ask me how he made it inside my door. He was just there. He was hooked up on a pair of crutches swaying back and forth, watching me with a couple of sick gray eyes. It was a full of water. You'd think they were going to float right out of his head. All at once he went down like a busted sugar sack. He'd been shot twice through the neck with a small caliber gun, a .25, .32, I don't know. I found a dozen razor blades in one pocket and two dozen sector shoelaces to go with him. There wasn't anything that told me his name, but there was a picture inside his shirt pocket. One of those things that you have taken in a penny arcade, you know, in front of phony pasteboard props. Well, a man with one leg was looking out from between a pair of painted angels wings. The guy standing next to him, who was smiling up at the halo, was the same man that I'd seen that afternoon, an architect named Hain. A man who needed the private detective, a man who walked out of glass door and then dropped dead. And the one printed word above that picture stuck like a wart on an egg that said, Happy Land. You are listening to the story of the man in the door, tonight's adventure with Jeff Regan, investigation. Here is a special and important message to every businessman listening, to every businessman regardless of the size or the type of his business. Gentlemen, do you realize that the schools of this community help you every day that you're in business? That's right. For one thing, our school teaches the boys and girls of this community to cherish the human right, the free enterprise on which our country and your business are founded. With each new generation graduated from our schools, the army defending our way of life and your business grows stronger. What's more, good teachers and well-equipped schools do a better job of developing our children's talent. The result? School graduates have become more skilled and more efficient employees. So remember, any time and taxes that you contribute to improving local schools are an investment in your own business future. Education is good business. Education can maintain our freedom. And freedom is everybody's job. And now, back to the story of the man in the door and Jeff Regan, investigation. Well, I left the little man with a one leg lying there. It wasn't much I could do for him. I wanted to wait before I called homicide. I took the picture I found on his pocket and I drove to Happyland. It turned out to be an open-air penny arcade on Fifth and Main. It smelled like all the hot dogs in the world had been made right there. There were machines all over the place telling you how strong you were, how rich you'd be and who you'd marry. All for a penny. I guess it wasn't much of a bargain. The only customer was a sailor trying his luck at the shooting gallery. Back in the corner, a tired looking girl in light blue slacks and a dirty gray sweater was sitting on a stool but a hot dog counter staring at nothing. Want some pennies? Not right now, no. Oh, just looking? Go ahead. You figure out where you're going to send your money, come back and I'll give you some change. You got a picture gallery here? Oh, you tell me you're a real big stender and want to have your picture taken. Maybe, you got one? Yeah, we got one. Where is it? In there. You really want to get your picture taken, I'll climb off this stool and take you back. I want to tell you now, if you're just trying to be sociable, you can go and fly a kite. You run the picture concession? I run the picture place and the hot dog place and I sleep out in the morning. Oh, I wish I had better brains in the marry that slob and get myself stuck in a cheap dump like this. All right, you remember taking this picture? How would I know? I take a lot of pictures. Well, come on, look at it. Oh, I know right. Yeah, I took that for so long. When? How do you think I am? Can't remember what night it is every time a pair of drunks comes in and wants her picture taken together. Well, try to remember will you? Oh, you're a real wise guy mister, you don't want no picture you just want some talk. You're a cop. Friend, I met the little guy in the picture once. Dusty. How was that? I thought you said you met him once. Well, we weren't introduced, I just met him. Who is he? Dusty Rhodes. Works with circuit. What circuit? Cessan mains, stem, business section. What kind of business? Dusty handled the razor blade and shoelace traffic. He hates pencils. What did he do when he wasn't working? What does anybody do when out and got loaded? Go on. And you don't know him very well for a friend. I'm not gonna know, I'm not getting Dusty in trouble talking to you like this. Nobody can get him in trouble anymore, lady. I mean... We shot tonight. Oh no. Poor little guy. You know where he lived? The Seashore hotel. The Seashore hotel. Oh, Jesus, I'm sick. I'm real sick. Brother, the Seashore kid is the many types of people. Good and bad, just out of the pokey. No bits of night for tranchants, 150 a week for solid citizens. And sign and register, it's a law. I'm not looking for a room. Then you're wasting my time, brother, my beer's getting warm. Look, I'm a private investigator, my name's Regan. I liked you before you said them two words, brother, but you have soured me. Private investigator means private eye and it all means cop. And you are not welcome, not blow. I'm trying to find out something about a man named Dusty Rhodes. We do not ask questions and we do not give answers, not blow. I was totally lived here. You'll find me tongueless, brother, now blow. Did you know him? During the last five years, I have acquired 85 pounds and a very bad heart. All right, have you and the alley right now? Oh yeah, sure you will. Here. Abraham Lincoln was a very fine man and he took a very fine picture. I seem to have found my tongue, brother. Well, it's big. The key to his room for a starter, huh? Disallowable and punishable by fine and imprisonment. End of the hall, turn the bench fest to the right. Thanks. Well, I don't know what I expected to find there. Outside of more razor blades and more shoelaces. With a little room full of dirty white curtains and a wire bed that sagged in the middle. I was standing there watching a neon sign advertised beer, a block down the street when I thought I heard somebody behind me. Whoever it was had been drinking bad whiskey when he was still pretty good. It landed a quarter of an inch above my right ear and I piled up in a lamp, a chair and a picture full of water. Five berries get you a look, brother, but it doesn't get you a room besides it's already taking on the beds over there. Now come on. You didn't go to sleep, brother. You was knocked to sleep. I apologize. Why the games? Who came in after me? You're the only one. You sure? My name's Sam Preacher. Brother, I'm very sure. Maybe he was waiting for me, huh? I don't generally ask him, but the question is this. Why? I don't know. Unless. That's a matter of something, isn't it? Just a picture. You can get lots of pictures. You didn't see anybody? That makes the third time, brother, and the answer is still negative. Okay, okay. Then let's blow, buddy, huh? Cariners' office. Luke, this is Regan. The Williams side. What's with you, baby? When Daddy tells me you walked into one today. Yeah, I did. You got him there? Hey, Studley, sure. Want to come down and take a look? These tow tanks. Solve it down real pretty. Yeah, I'll bet. If 32 slugs were just incidental, the guy had four weeks in the outside. All right, give it to me. Hey, Studley was dying from malnutrition alcohol. Here's him in a couple other things with long names. Give me one long name. Diabetes. He didn't take good care of himself, honey. A misspent life. Somebody's going to take the kids chamber for nothing. When Daddy know this? Sure, sure. And he was wearing a brand new suit, too. Well, sew up the holes. We'll bury him in it. Well, you aren't finished yet, Luke. Baby. A guy with one leg dropped dead in my place a couple hours ago. It's after 11. I'm sorry, Luke. They connected? Yeah. Murdered? Yeah. Well, come down and see us any time, Rean. We're open 24 hours a day. I left the homicide office. They told me she'd been released about 10 o'clock. They said a lawyer named Henderson had put up the bail and handled the whole thing. They gave me an address on her when I went out there. It was a bungalow court on Normandy, and it took her a long time to answer the door. Oh, you? Yeah, tell me how tall I am. Oh, I'd love to, but not right now. They told me you'd been out since 10 o'clock. Maybe I should have come sooner. Daniel gives me the willies. I'm about to take a shower. I was kind of hoping we could have a drink. I did better than I thought, would you? I got a hold of a lawyer for you tonight. Yeah? Well, doesn't that break me an invitation to have a drink? I said later, I'm really tired. I said no. Well, if you're that thirsty, all right. That's better. And every day my boss gets killed and I meet a private detective. I need a drink. I was slugged tonight. Slugged? Yeah, right here, see. What looks nasty? Why didn't you want to do that to you? Wanted a picture I had. Whistler's mother? Just a picture of a couple of drunks who are dead now. Maybe whoever did it was a relative. Yes, again. I don't like games. But you play them all the time. But we all, I know a psychiatrist says we can't help ourselves. You can. I liked you when you walked into the office this afternoon, but I'm not so sure I like you now, maybe you better go. Expecting somebody, huh? Somebody's doing you. Let's go with me. Let's go with me. Oh, no, baby. You've got real nice eyes. I want to look at them. Let go, he's crazy. He's so cool. Hello, Dave. We didn't hear you knock. Did you bring your piano? What's the idea? He gave it. Why don't you tell him to go away, baby? Anybody can tell we're busy. Let it go, Reagan. You want to break yourself? Get your seat just fine to make your jealous and safe. Come here, honey. No, you don't have to do that. I said let her go. At the same 32, you killed a one-legged man with? Don't be a fool. There we are, baby. You're first. I listened to you too long. You don't need guessing. You don't have any poop of anything. You can cry if you want to, baby. This is gonna hurt. She spun around and fell into a coffee table and then lay very quiet on the rug. Her eyes were open and she didn't say anything. She just lay there looking up at him. I couldn't tell where she'd been hit. He seemed to forget all about me because he walked over to her, knelt down beside her, put the gun right up against her head. This is awful close range, baby, but I can't afford to miss. Neither could I. Well, when Daddy and I stuck our heads together and it all came out when we looked into a couple of things, you see, Dave Henderson was Dudley Haynes and he was wanted for attempted murder and embezzling and one thing or another back in Ohio. So he figured it'd be a good idea to bump himself off. Dorothy helped him with the idea and they both went down on Main Street and they picked up an old bum, dressed him up in a new suit and shot him. I was supposed to walk in with Dorothy and she'd identify the body and as far as anybody knew Dudley Haynes and he'd be dead. Dave didn't figure that she'd be taken down. She didn't figure that she'd get scared and neither of them figured the man with one leg was a pal of the man that they'd shot. Well, it seems that they looked through a lot of files and they'd figured that a lot of murders go unsolved. Maybe they do. I don't know. Well, anyway, he sat down on that little bench up there in San Quentin last week, the one with that bucket of acid in the room. He held his breath as long as he could, but everybody has to breathe. He's buried up there with a lot of other guys that figured they could get away with murder. Dorothy? She wasn't hurt too bad. I had her in a wheelchair for the trial. She got 15 years as an accomplice. Some kind of a deal. State evidence and all that. I don't think I'll wait for her. She wasn't that good. Jack Webb is featured as Jeff Regan with Wilms Herbert as Anthony J. Lyon. It's CBS at 9.30 next week for more hard-boiled action and mystery with Jeff Regan Investigator, written by E. Jack Newman and produced by Sterling Tracy. Dorothy Nolan was played by Betty Lou Gerson and David Ellis was Dave Henderson. Lorraine Tuttle, William Conrad and Lou Krugman supported. It's perfectly natural and wholesome for some men who want to leave great wealth behind. There's a drugist in a small town in Pennsylvania who'll do that. The wealth he'll leave behind will make many lives easier and happier and finer down through the years. For he was the principal donor of an outdoor meeting place for religious services in a Boy Scout camp in the Poconos. Working with his neighbors and community activities, he saw the need of this improvement help to install it. That's the kind of wealth that you can bequeath to generations coming on as you enjoy the freedom of working with your neighbors for the betterment of your community. Freedom that can be anybody's pleasure is everybody's job. Music for this program is arranged by Dick Arant. Next week at 9.30, Jeff Regan Investigator brings you another thrill-packed half-hour with his story of the House by the Sea. Bob Stephenson speaking, this is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. My name is Regan. I get ten a day and expenses from a detective bureau run by a guy named Anthony J. Lyon. They call me the Lion's Eye. With Jack Webb as Jeff Regan, the Lion's Eye stand by for hard-boiled action and mystery and thrilling adventure in tonight's story of the man who fought back. Music for the next week There's a street crammed in between Wilton and Van Ess in Hollywood. It's called Taft Avenue. A couple of blocks long. I only got there because the city planners had a few tons of cement left over from the Coliseum. On the corner, there's a gray building poking its way up through a crack in the pavement. That's where I live. Apartment K. Two rooms with a connecting door to a broom closet. Oh, the place isn't much. A couple of chairs and a bed that comes out of the wall. And a mattress that could pass itself off as a relief map of the high sierras. Well, that's where I was the other night around 11 trying to catch some sleep. That's when my phone began making an impression. It turned out to be the Lion. Hey, Riggan, I'm glad I found your home. Are you alone? What's the matter? Did you lose your voice? Just a precaution. I got a hold of a good thing and I don't want to lose it by indiscreet talk. Well, then write me a letter. We've just been hired. You start tonight. It'll keep till morning. Her name's Alice Lafarge. She'll meet you in a bar called The Princess across the street from Pershing Square. Get going. What's your trouble? She'll tell you all about it when you get there. Can't you tell me? I haven't got the time right now, but there's nothing to it. I'd handle it myself if I didn't have a big deal on it. flirting with widows and Pasadena, huh? So I got a social engagement. It helps our business. Pays to be seen in high society. And besides, the liquor's good. You just get over to see the Lafarge, Dave, and give me a rig in the morning and let me know how you make out. All right, lover. Hey, Riggan. Huh? What should I take to my Pasadena girlfriend? Flowers or candy? You better take both. You're going to need all the help you can get. I threw on some clothes and I headed for town. My car found a parking lot off Ollof, and I cut through Pershing Square to make it over to Hill. It was after midnight. A sailor was chasing a bow-legged marine over the grass. He brought him down on about the 40-yard line. The Princess Bar showed up near the corner of sixth, a little place holding up six stories of granite. I went inside. A moustache was trying real hard on a piano. 200 pounds of bartender was moving a wet rag over the bar in slow motion. A girl was sitting on the far stool in a black purse with initials ALF, Alice Lafarge. If you look real hard, you can find her eyes I gave up on her lips. I lowered myself onto the stool next to her. She looked tired, like a chorus girl on a Sunday morning. Here? I'm Regan, international detective. How do I know? You will when you get the bill. You're late, Mr. Regan. Well, I didn't pick up any traffic tickets if that's what you wanted. Well, it doesn't matter. We have a few minutes yet. What are we waiting for? 12.30. Can I buy you a drink, Mr. Regan? You're calling it. Bartender. What a lovely miss. I'm not drinking, sir, the gentleman. Gotch. Bourbon and water. Got some pretty tasty scotch, buddy. Bourbon. She's trying. I get a commission on the scotch. All right, lady. Now let's have it. You live far from here, Mr. Regan? About 20 minutes. You better run home and throw a change of clothes into a suitcase. Out of town job? No, but you'll need a change. Bring along a deck of cards and a thick book. Anything else? Call off any dates you may have. You're going to be out of circulation for the weekend. Here's an address. It's a hotel on North Sigarilla. Get there as soon as you can. You still haven't said anything. What's the job? You'll find out when you get there. I'll get tired of waiting. Come on, lady. Let's open it up. Hey, buddy, scotch. Are you leaving us, miss? Next one's free. Thanks anyway. I'll beat it you and take that scotch with you. Okay. I'll get it myself. I still get the commission. All right, now come on, sis. Let's have the rest of it. I'm sorry, Mr. Regan. That's all I can tell you now. Just be at that address as soon as you can. Now she slid off the stool and moved for the front door. I caught a view of her in the mirror. There was nothing there to make a guy want an encore. Sandy hair, short, thin body that you could have slipped into a mailbox. Well, she threw the door shut behind her. A couple of seconds ticked by, and I moved out after her. I made the street just in time to see her climb into a cab and start up 6th. That's when I spotted the Red Austin with an Illinois license. It was a Glenblad sleeve sticking out of the left side, and that's all I got of the driver, except that he was doing a real bad tag job on the Lafarge girl. The North Figure-O address Alice Lafarge gave me turned out to be the Gladstone Hotel. A two-layer pile of wood so old that the termites were getting indigestion. A short guy with a shiny head was catching up on his reading in the lobby. He put down the seat catalog long enough to tell me that apartment 3B was upstairs in the back. A couple of knocks on the door, and Alice let me in. Sitting in the corner was a bush of gray hair and a white face. Turned out to be a man with a worried look like an alligator in a handbag factory. Shut the door, Alice. Yes, Dad. Thanks for coming, Regan. I'll let you know later if you're welcome. Dougie sings, Alice. No, I'm going to hang on to him for a while. Suit yourself, but your coat will get heavy in a few hours. What says I'm going to stay that long? Me? That's what you're hired for. What else? Well, that's the time to get to that. Let's get to know each other first. You got a name? I'm Bill Defyge. Sort of fancy, but I like it. Give me some more. Not much more. Just an old joker with nothing left but a few years and a regular done. Mm-hmm. You know, Regan, this isn't my real address. I just moved here. Yeah, the rent's low. That's not it. Bill Defyge can handle more. All right, you can skip the bank statement, Mr. Will you please try to be civil, Mr. Regan? That's not what you hired me for. It's okay, Alice. Can't say I blame him. All right, then. Let's throw it in gear, huh? Not much to your job, Regan. Just spend a weekend with me. I've had better offers. Yeah, I did too in my time. Well, it's the easy part of it. You got something hard? You stay awake the next 48 hours and keep looking at me. Who's after you? Nobody. I figure different. You could be wrong. Shades down, lights out, red Austin on a tag job. What do you mean? Plaid suit moved out after you when you left the princess. You sure he was following Alice? Like you said, I could be wrong. Get one thing straight, Regan. I never hire anybody to protect me. Bill Defyge handles things like that himself. Your hair is a witness. What for? Just in case somebody wants some testifying as to how I spent this weekend. All right, now throw off your coat. Let's play a little cards. Why not? Alice open the window. It's getting a little hard in here. All right, Dad. Good girl. Gin, Rummy. You're dealing. Now, how do you want to play? Two bits if you... Ah! Ah! The shots came flying in from the alley and didn't stop until they caught Alice in the bars. She blew her back into the room and she did a full turn like a ballet dancer showing off. By the time her father and I got to her, it was all over. The old man straightened up and began mumbling something about Red Austin. I stepped for the phone and put in a call to Sanducci at homicide. He took down the story and promised to send out some company. Then I cradled the phone. That's when I knew I was alone with a girl. Old man Lafarge had hot footed it out of the building like a super chief on a holiday weekend. Well, the boys from homicide showed in a couple of minutes and they had a few questions. I gave them what I had and Sanducci tabled the rest until the next day. So I went home to relax. You know, the lion could have made a good detective. He always finds me. Brigham, I'm not paying you to sit at home. Get your coat on and explain this. What? This newspaper story. There's a big lie in here about Lafarge's name getting killed. Now I know you wouldn't allow that to happen to one of our clients. It was real hard, but I managed. I give you a simple little job and you turn it into a murder. You getting a commission from Forest Lawn? You got your hands full too. What do you mean? Sanducci will be visiting you with a pocket full of questions. I don't know nothing about a shoulder. I was out in Pasadena all night playing a guitar and I got a sore finger to prove it. Now you listen to me big shot. You better start sniffing around and turn up a Red Austin with a plaid suit behind the wheel. Who are they? Get some information on Bill Lafarge, the girl's father. Hey, what's that? You know, I'll bet if we open it we'll find out. Well, I better get a move on. Just open the door a little bit and I'll squeeze by. Hello, Lieutenant! Nice to see you, Sanducci. Where's he going? Getting a line for Notre Dame tickets. When did you take up knocking, Sanducci? New directive went through the department. Show a little more courtesy. You don't wear it well. I figure it's political there working and building up a gate for the next policeman's show. I gotta put you on. You're worth a couple of laughs. Yeah, yeah, I'll speak to the boys. How did you sleep last night, Regan? Fine. You shouldn't have. The murder should have given you nightmares. There's always oval team. You know, some of the boys down at Head Quarters figure you know more about this shooting than you're saying. Well, they made mistakes before. No, I'm not saying. I feel like they do. What do you want? Who knocked off the Lafarge girl? You're asking yourself. Wrong answer. How would you know? She got it with a 45. What do you want? You know what I own. I know about Lafarge. The shots came in through the window. Even you can figure that. It could have had help. Talk to him. I will when we pick him up. In the meantime, it's you and me. You got nothing on me. We found a roller-dome, a briefcase, and a bottom bureau drawer. What was it doing there? I don't know. All right, Regan. Now let me give you a tip. The words out Lafarge got a private war on. I don't want any more shoring, so I look at it this way. He's your client. I'm holding you responsible. I'm Regan. Yeah. Got the watch in the manjaro. He's old. He's a total two-by-eight. He's got a little one-by-eight. He's a stupid one. What's that mean? Go find out. You're a detective. Well, I don't suppose I'll ever find out. He slid out of the room. I washed up and had a short breakfast at the corner drugstore. Went through the morning favor. The Lafarge murder rate at a lot of big typhons. I saw a picture of Alice right next to the weather report, slightly cooler. After the bottom showed my coffee cup, I went over to the Hollywood Library. The city director gave William Lafarge an orange drive home address and occupation printer. The yellow phone book turned up a Lafarge Preston print shop on Santa Monica near La Brea. It was a small place, the color of stale peanut butter, and it was tucked in between a pet store and a beauty parlor. Inside the front door, the bell rang and a couple of pair of tortoise shell glasses covering a couple of deep blue eyes looked at me. She was a brunette with light skin and a voice that sounded like it was diving for sponges. Print shop smell got lost in all that taboo. Good morning, sir. May I help you? I'm looking for Mr. Lafarge. There's no Mr. Lafarge here. Sign outside, sir. There is. It's an old one. Won't I do instead? I'm going to turn the page. I think you'd enjoy it. You know, you ought to put out cards. Mr. Preston says business has picked up immeasurably since I started working here. Let's get back to Lafarge. I told you he's not here. Well, try Preston for me. He's very busy. They can spare a couple of words. Now, wait a minute. You can't go in there. I'm sorry, Mr. Preston. I told him you were very busy. All right, Lewis. Who are you? My name's Regan. I'm with International Detective. I've got some questions about your partner. Of course. Please leave us, Lewis. See you later, soldier. You got it, Mr. Regan? I won't be here that long. Naturally, I'd be only too happy to tell you anything I can. It was such a shock reading about his poor daughter's death. A wonderful girl. Lafarge said that. You'd say it too if you knew her. She was very good to him. Well, Mr. Regan, what specifically can I tell you? The book calls this place Lafarge Preston. Somebody's missing. Well, you see, Bill and I were in partnership for years. When he decided to pull out, I just planned to leave the name the same. When did he go? Just a few weeks ago. You have a reason? I don't know exactly. Implied he had enough money or was coming into some, I'm not sure. But it happened so sudden, left me a little shorthanded. Still having trouble finding a first class engraver to take his place. I left him sitting there chewing a panatella, and I moved out fast like a sailor on shore leave. It was about 11 and getting warmer. I picked up my car and went home. It took me 10 minutes to track down Sanducci. Yeah? Regan. What do you want me for? Fix a traffic ticket? Look, I got something for you. Make it good. I've been talking with Preston down at the print shop. Yeah? Lafarge stepped out kind of fast, carrying a roll. Uh-huh. Now look, he knew engraving. I figure you ought to take a good look at that money. It may turn up phony. I'm not impressed. All right, I gave it to you. Do what you want. Look, we've checked into the door already. It's absolutely legit. Now give up, Regan. Navy didn't. Is that a Regan? Should I turn you down? Who let you in? Stranger in town. Just catching the sights. Well, they're better outside. He's off, Regan. You don't know who you're talking to. You know, the name's a blank, but you drive a red Austin. Yeah, it's not bad for a beginner. You got a drink around? Not for you, no. If I were you, I'd show a little hospitality to an out-of-town boy. Chicago. Southside, huh? You're not being very nice. You weren't invited. But now that I'm here, that changes some things, huh? What do you want? A drink. No sale. Listen, fresh guy. Get your hands off me, punk. I'll go get this. 45 always stops him. Like it did look that. How about getting an old gusset drink, huh? Three finger will do. Skip the water. You better fix one for yourself. No, you're the type that drinks alone. Oh, you better have one, Regan. It's going to be your last. How do you figure? Well, I look at it this way. A guy like me gets hired to do a job. Comes 2,000 miles fourth and pulls a boner. Like knocking off the daughter instead of the father. Yeah. Hey, that's it. Top that off with a witness. Sitting in the same room who spots my Red Austin. Now, let me ask you something. Can I leave him around breathing good air? According to me, no. Gusset's knees knocked together and he caved in like arches on a fat man. Four quick steps took me to the door and I looked down the hall. Nothing there. So I made it for the stairway and I looked down the spiral. An old guy was taking the steps two at a time and stuffing a gun into his overcoat bag. He was a little bit too much. He was a little bit too much. He was two at a time and stuffing a gun into his overcoat pocket. He was Bill LaFarge. You were listening to the story of the man who fought back tonight's adventure with Jeff Regan, investigator. Commissions are still available in the Army Nurse Corps. Graduate registered nurses between the ages of 21 and 45 qualify for service with this fine organization. Nurses may request active or inactive status. Those on active status enjoy the same privileges as regular Army officers. Those on inactive status may continue their civilian nursing duties but stand ready to serve in time of emergency. If you are interested in joining the Army Nurse Corps and believe that you qualify for a commission, apply to the Adjutant General, Washington, D.C. And now back to the story of the man who fought back and Jeff Regan, investigator. Well, things were moving kind of fast. The lion sent me out to meet a girl named Alice LaFarge. She took me to her father who wanted a bonded witness to be able to testify to his whereabouts that weekend. That's when a couple of shots came through the window and cut down the daughter. Before homicide put in an appearance, Bill LaFarge was gone and he didn't show again until Gus killed Alice and then came to see me. And then there was a big roll of money and a print shop in the picture, but it was all out of focus. Well, I moved back into my apartment. The Chicago hood was still there lying on my rug and I picked up the phone to call Lieutenant Sanducci. I just got in a couple of numbers out when I caught a familiar smell. It was a load of taboo and it was packing a 32. Put the phone down, Regan. Why? Because I'm asking you nicely. Put it down. Homicide can wait. Gus isn't going any place. You got a plan, lady? Mm-hmm. Well, get back to that print shop and you'll stay out of trouble. Mr. Preston's so nice. He gave me the afternoon off. I told him my mother got sick. All right, lady, tell me about it. I'm looking for something. Name it. The ignition key to Gus's Austin. Now move over there and get it for me. What's wrong with your car? I ran out of gas. Move. Okay. Kiki's got away. Now try the overcoat pockets. Throw them. All right. Good catch. So they tell me. So long, Regan. I put in a quick call to homicide and then I waited a couple of minutes to give her a chance to get a head start. When I stepped out of the building, the Red Austin was just turning the corner. I followed in my car. We wound up in Glendale. She pulled into a duplex driveway next to an empty lot and I pulled in under a pepper tree up the street of Waze. Then she got out and unlocked the trunk. She looked inside, ripped up the floor matting and then the boards. When she slammed the trunk shut, it figured that she didn't find what she was looking for. Well, 25 minutes later, I found the lion sitting behind his desk down at the office. He had a bottle of beer in one hand and a package of sand sand in the other. Spread out in front of him was a typewritten piece of paper that he just slipped out of his remington. He had a puzzled look, like a little boy caught in a mix master. Regan, where you been? Around. I've been looking all over for you. Sandochie's been calling in every three minutes. What's he want? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. He's been calling in every three minutes. What's he want? The story on how Gus got laid out in your apartment. I'll drop him a note. He wants it now! He's got time. He doesn't come up for a pension for years. They turn up lefars yet? But I turned up something. What would you say if I told you lefars did time once? On a counterfeit rap? How'd you know? It figured that lowest aim is scratching around for something. The feds put him away for 10 years for making up some phony bonds or stocks or something like that. How's his daughter fit? She waited for him till he got out and then tried to help him play it straight. What'd you get on Gus? Who cares about him? Lois. Lefars wasn't in on that bond job alone. Who else? He had a partner, the guy who runs the print shop, Preston. You're doing better. I figured it this way. Preston's got a new racket and J. Edgar would be real happy to know all about it. We're going to be the ones to tell him. How much is the reward? I don't even know if the rich want it. Oh, stop it. When gold went up to $35 an ounce, you pulled your mother's teeth. Reagan, you're getting out alive. And then you bawled her out for not having more cavities. Now you get over to Preston and have a talk with him. Yeah. Reagan. Yeah. Remember, if we crack this thing, it'll mean more money in your pocket too. There's no room for it with your hand there already. I left him sitting there doodling dollar signs and I went out into the street. It was turning evening. I picked my car out of the lot and 30 minutes later I stopped in the corner of Santa Monica and La Brea. The fog was rolling in by then and the street lights were trying real hard. I walked to the front door of the print shop. I shook it a little, but nothing gave so I moved around to the back. The place inside was as dark as a saloon in Kansas, but somebody inside was handy with a gun. So I cracked the window with a rock and I climbed inside. It smelled like target practice on a rifle range. Preston was curled up on the floor like a piece of wet tissue paper and there were two holes in them. Well, the game wasn't over, but they were running out of players. I moved for the phone to call the police and that's when I spotted Bill LaFarge. He was slumped down in a chair with a gun in his hand and he looked tired. It took a lot of shaking to bring any words out of it. Hey, come on, Bill LaFarge. Hey, hey, stop shaking. I'm up. He dead? Yeah. Yeah, he was a bum. You want to give me that gun? Sure. You got a call into the cops? No, not yet. We'll use my car. Anywhere you want it. Yeah, don't matter much no more. Things go easy for some guys and the guys get all the rocks. You got a couple answers. Well, Preston did a tie-in with a gambler and sent to get out of Las Vegas. Some joker had a hot idea. Keep going. Counterfeit 20,000 New Year's Day bull tickets and sell them on the open market at five bucks plus. That's big business to the hundred thousand. But I didn't take. Preston gets sore because I wouldn't do the engraving and he got somebody else. That doesn't add up to murder. Yeah, he did when his head got working overtime worrying. I had too many answers. And he hired that Chicago boy with the bad eyes. Yeah, he got my daughter by mistake. Where are the bull tickets? Who cares? How does Lois fit? I don't know. All right. Front door is closer to my car. You drive Reagan. The only traffic makes me nervous. Well, La Fars was driving a NAACC and it was parked at a filling station. We fought the night traffic downtown to police headquarters and tore Sanduccia away from his pinnacle game. He sent a couple of boys out to clean up the print shop and then moved La Fars into a room with a secretary to get the story on paper. I'd heard it before so I started for home but Sanduccia had other ideas. He put me in a private little room with white walls and he told me to wait. I thought maybe he'd gone on his vacation but he finally came in. Getting tired of waiting, Reagan? Do you care? No. You got something to say? Maybe. Well then spit it out because I got a date. I'll keep. Why are you holding? I had to do some checking. You got all your need? I didn't think so. Well you got it now. That's still Reagan. I'm not ready to let you go. Now listen, power, just because you're wearing a badge inside that coach. Shut up and listen to me. It took me 18 years to turn in those overstuffed shoes for thin soles. I'm not letting a two-bit detective tell me how to handle my business. You could stand it. You and that crummy boss of yours are licensed by the state of California and we can lift it for ex-debtramental to public welfare. We get a whole blotter fold. Tell that to the lion. I am telling it to you. Now let's all beat it. Okay. All Reagan. Yeah. One thing more. There's a big hole in Lafarge's story. What do you mean? Look at his gun. Now what about it? Look at the caliber. It's a .38. That's not the weapon that killed Gus and Preston. You sure you don't own a .32? Well, Lafarge was more used up than he figured. He couldn't tell where the dream left off and the murders began. Oh, the whole thing was a screwy picture, but the artist had a woman's touch. 25 minutes later, I pulled my car to a stop in front of a lemon-colored duplex out in Glendale. A high school boy breathing hard told me that the good-looking girl lived upstairs. I just hit the top of the landing when the door of her apartment opened and a couple of pieces of airplane luggage moved out. Her ticket didn't show, but it figured to be marked for Las Vegas. When Lois saw me, she looked kind of confused, like a penguin in Death Valley. Reagan. Your memory's good. I wish you told me you were coming. I've addressed for it. No, it's better this way. You're fixed for traveling. What do you mean? We talk about it inside, huh? I'd like to. You know that, but I have a few things to... Come on, move it, lady. Well, what's come over you? What's inside the suitcase? You can work that out yourself, Freakin. You've been by a woman's shop. Throw it open. Blimber it, sir. I'll take a chance. All right, now dump it over. Come on, sis. Your time's running out. Oh, yeah, sure. Preston had the tickets at an asbestos box hidden in the furnace. I finally turned them up. Reagan, they're worth over $100,000. Yeah, that's what Lafarge said. I know where to unload them. I won't do you any good. What do you mean? There's no PX to hatch a P. Come on, don't scramble for that 32. It's out of reach. Let go of me! You threw those holes into Guston Preston, figuring homicides stick Lafarge with a wrap, knowing he was out for revenge. Let me go! Even the old guy didn't know what was going on. No, he didn't. No, but Ballistics did. Reagan. Yeah? This could mean a lot of dough to us, you and me. We form a partnership. Yeah, before it's getting damp. Don't be a piker. Here's your chance to really turn into something. Well, now you can check with me when you get out, Lady, to see if I made it. Well, it all blew apart fast, like an Adam at Cal Tech. Sanducci came down and picked up Lois. She had herself a pretty good thing for a while. Preston could have run off the phony bull tickets, and all she had to do was to sell them. Even though murder got thrown in, she could have stayed clean if she hadn't got her gun calibers mixed. Well, Lafarge was walking the streets in a couple of hours, and the lion was real happy the way things worked out. He got his picture in the police gazette and picked up two bona fide passes to the Rose Bowl game. He promised to take me to the game with him. He did. He let me have the ticket at the regular price. Jack Webb is featured in Jeff Regan with Herb Butterfield as Anthony J. Lion. It's CBS at the same time next week for more hard-boiled action and mystery with Jeff Regan, Investigator, written by Larry Roman, produced by Sterling Tracy. Alice was played by Lorette Philbrandt. Charles Seal was Preston. Ken Christie was Lafarge. Jack Petruzzi was Sanducci. And the other two were the two. And the other two were the two. In the first place, Lafarge, Jack Petruzzi was Sanducci, Ivan Peti was Lois, and Sidney Miller was Gus. 29,000 nurses are needed now to join the new Army Nurse Corps Officers Reserve. For the first time in history, qualified nurses have the opportunity of receiving commissions in the regular Army Reserve. These nurses will remain on inactive status, ready to serve their country in time of emergency. Four thousand of them, if they wish, may choose active duty. All nurses who receive commissions will benefit from the opportunity for specialized training offered to them by the Army. Inactive Reserve status will not interfere with the nurses' civilian life, but the educational opportunities offered her by the Army Medical Department will be of great advantage in her work. So don't wait. If you're a registered graduate nurse between the ages of 21 and 45, drop a card for complete information to the Adjutant General, Washington, D.C. Music Original music for this program is by Milton Charles, Bob Stevenson speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. Music Music My name's Regan. I get ten a day in expenses from a detective bureau run by a guy named Anthony J. Lyon. They call me the Lion's Eye. Music With Jack Webb as Jeff Regan, the Lion's Eye stand by for hard-boiled action and mystery and thrilling adventure in tonight's story of The Gambler and His Lady. Music You'll find it in Hollywood on Taft Avenue. Four-story apartment building in the color of a rainy afternoon. They call it the Havenwood. It sags in the middle like a tired Frankfurter. That's where I live. Apartment 3K. Two rooms with a pull-down bed and a pair of windows that stick when it's hot. Oh, the view isn't much. Six strands of telephone wire and the head of a shaved-off palm tree. Beyond is the city, L.A. Spread out on the map like a raw egg with a broken yolk. Oh, the town's all right, I guess, if you can afford to set it up. The Lion likes it. He set himself up as a receiving clerk for trouble and I worked for him. It was about 11.15, Tuesday night when my phone began making itself felt. It turned out to be the Lion breathing hard. It figured he was running his fingers over a green bag. Breathe. Want to hear the sound of a brand new $50 bill? Send me a record. What's the matter? You sound like you're flouting your back. How do you sleep? Who's sleeping? I'm working and that's what you're going to be doing. Try me tomorrow. Throw on some clothes. You're going down to Venice Boulevard to see a lady. She's got daughter trouble. Well, marry her off. She didn't pay us $50 for that. The problem goes deeper. How much? She'll tell you. I want it from you. I don't know at all for sure. Don't you ever check into things? I do the general work. You'll get the details. Yeah, you'd drag a wet rag over the 15 if the ink stays on. We got a client. That's insulting. How would you know? Rekin, you don't want to keep a lady waiting. Now get a move on. Give me the name. This is Eleanor Bass, a pep-on hotel. Yeah? And phone me after you talk to her. What for? I want to be sure it's legit. Do you care? Uh, better make that call to me tomorrow after 10. I'm sort of going to be tied up till then. Doing what? Sleeping. Well, I put on some clothes, picked up my car, and moved out to Venice Boulevard. The good humor men were all gone, and I had the street to myself. 20 minutes later, I came to a stop beside a garbage can near San Pedro. Behind it stood the Pierpont Hotel, a two-deck pile of wood left over from the sinking of the Spanish Armada. There was a black and dirty white sign outside, said rooms $0.50 weekly and monthly rates. The names Eleanor and Georgia Baskham showed in the mailbox and gave a room $2.10. I climbed a flight of stairs and walked down a hall that looked like a passageway in a pyramid. It was dark and it took my cigarette lighter to turn up the numbers. $2.10 finally showed and I wrapped them the door. A bush of black and gray hair pulled it open. It was wearing a red kimono and an impatient look like a tax collector in January. She was pushing $0.50 and looked tired. Yes? I'm Regan, international detective. Oh yes, the lions. I've been waiting for you. Come in. Hi, Mrs. Baskham. Eleanor or Georgia? Georgia's my daughter. I want to apologize for getting you out here this time of night, Mr. Regan, but it's urgent. The lion said that the girl's the problem. Yes. How old is she? 22. Who's the man? How'd you know there was a man? What other kind of trouble would she go after? She's a good girl, Mr. Regan. She always has been. Until now. That's what I want to know. She's old enough to call her place? That's not the advice I'm paying for. Where'd you get the $0.50? It took a lot of saving. All right, give me his name. Louis Desmond. Gambler, card sharp, bookie, all around Conman. He's got a card room out toward Gardena, someplace of five aces club. What is your daughter's seeing? Oh, it's this place. The way we have to live. She's tired of having nothing. I've tried, but she's looking for a change. I'm taking a wrong turn. I'm not sure yet. The other girls have it real tough. They go to work. Well, we had a little trouble with the family once. It shows up if someone starts looking. When can I talk to Georgia? You'll have to work that out yourself, Mr. Regan. What does that mean? She put some clothes in a suitcase and left earlier this evening. That's why I had to call you so suddenly. Where'd she go? Louis is a real bum, Mr. Regan. You talk like you know him. We've met. I want to know just what's going on. If Louis is forcing her into anything crooked. She forces easy? A fur coat makes a young girl do a lot of things. Here's a picture of her you may need it. Not very good, but only when it's got. I'll make it work. That's about all, Mr. Regan. Get in touch with me as soon as you get something. Okay. Oh, Mr. Regan. Yeah. As you can tell, I'm the kind of person who sometimes gets hysterical over things. I'm also the kind who demands results. You sound like a radio commercial. It was after midnight when I followed the fog out for a month toward Gardena. The yellow lights were pressing, but they were doing about as much good as a pint of bourbon at a Shriners convention. I wand around the flatland for a while before the Five Aces Club turned up by a bend in the road. It looked like a blue wart with a neon sign. There was a front door and a back one and a couple of pairs of shoulders standing at each. A little guy in a pinstripe gray was figuring the same thing. A little guy in a pinstripe gray was figuring the size of the wallets going in. Louis Desmond's office showed at the top of the stairway and I moved for it. But a muscle looking down on six feet was playing frontman. He put a knotted hand on my arm and when he spoke it sounded like a gear factory doing double time. Slow down, Tolgrim. The room you're looking for is the other way. Yeah, well, this one says office. That's that trouble with you guys who read. Can't take hints. Spell it out. Be it. Not until I see Louis Desmond. What's your business? I'll tell it to him. You want some dough? No, I don't. Then he ain't interested. He will be. Listen, Junior. Get him over me. What's all the noise, Patheon? Sightseeing without a ticket. My name's Regan. Cup? Maybe. You want me to bond some Donna stairs, boss? Maybe. What do you want? Talk. That's always a waste of time. Not if it's about Georgia Bascom. Come on in. Never saw you around here before, Regan. Well, I can't afford it. Oh, don't say that. Some people go out of here with more than they can in with. Yeah, you. Guess you're right at that. Is it gone? No, thanks. Well, what about Georgia, Regan? You tell me. That doesn't add. You came to see me. I'm not going to tell you. I'm not going to tell you. I'm not going to tell you. I'm not going to tell you. I'm not going to tell you. I'm not going to tell you. If you think you're right at that, you came to see me. She's got a worried mother. They're all like that. Now, this one figures you're doing a little forcing. Oh. You'd know more about that. Give me a clue. Blackmail, maybe? You're a kick. Arthur Godfrey'd love to get a hold of you. I come too high. Let me give you some good advice. Go home and pull a blanket over your head and say it's all a bad dream. You know, you talk a lot, mister, but you don't say much. What's the hold on Georgia? All right, wise guy. I mean, come over here, baby. Regan, you know this girl. I've seen a picture. Georgia, this is a people named Regan. He come to rescue you. But what for, Mr. Regan? Fifty dollars. My mother gave you that to come and take me back? Something like that. But I can't go. Why not? Well... Go ahead, show him, baby. Look, Regan. Three carats. With a wedding band to match. On what dice table did you pick those up? Stop the noise, Regan. Congratulations, lady. Not on a bad mistake. Listen, Shamis. Oh, never mind him, Louis. He doesn't matter. When did the first come? Louis said soon. Tell Mama we're married and not to worry. We're going away for a few days. And, Senora, for some gambling and fishing. You won't enjoy it. Sure I will. You'll be in LA. The alley behind the Five Aces Club hadn't been dusted in a week. My brown flannel suit fixed that. Well, I picked myself up and made it for the car. Moving north on Vermont, I tried to add a couple of things. There was a funny smell in Louis's office when I first walked in, like rope on fire. Somebody had been there before me who smoked Q-bebs. Desmond worked on cigars. Georgia held a king-size palmel. Well, whoever it was still played at Koi. A voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice George, you're Bascom married Desmond. There's nothing I can do about it. Well, think of something. Say you married a fern. You're out of your mind. So it's a bad idea. Get a good one. Yeah, I already have. What is it? You give Mrs. Bascom her case back. Well, you can't do that. Try me. Think a minute, Beacon. She's come to us for help. A lonely woman with no place to turn and trusts her trouble to international. You got that 50 spent. It's not the money. It's the moral obligation. Oh, stop it. Well, you don't give blood anymore since you found out somebody paid for it. You're getting out of line. You're the only guy in town who can turn a shaving cut into a bankroll. That's enough. Well, let's do it this way. You go over to Mrs. Bascom and give her the loadout. Let her decide if she wants you to carry on or not. We sure go to a lot of trouble for a 50. I need a lot of new stuff around the place. Well, it's close to Christmas. Right to Santa Claus. Well, I left the lion looking for a fountain pen, and I drove out to Venice Boulevard in the Pier Pot Hotel. The place still looked the same. A black nace was parked at the block of motor going. A couple of cats were doing a duet on a garbage can. I climbed the stairs to the second floor, and I started down the hall for 210, walking real easy to keep the boards from creaking, but somebody else didn't care about the noise. There was a gun where the silencer working in Mrs. Bascom's room. I pushed the door in, but by then all I could hear was silence. The light showed an open window, but the fire escaped, and the wind was blowing the curtains. Mrs. Bascom lay face down on the bed real still, and the holes in her blanket were turning wet. The lion really lost a client that time. Well, it didn't take Sanducci and the boys long to get there. The fingerprint man and the photographers went to work in the room. Sanducci picked me. He had a grout John like a fat lady in an upper berth. What's an American? You get lost? What do you mean? You're pretty far from home. How do I get around? Who is she? Name's Eleanor Baskin. I know that. What she know where she come from? I don't know. What were you doing out here? She called in the lion. Her daughter ran off with Louis Desmond. Oh, he in it? How far? Ask him. Mrs. Bascom want you to bring her daughter back? She wanted to know if the girl was moving into a racket. Was she? I haven't found out. I should have known better than to ask her, detective. Why didn't she call us? She was behind in her taxes. What do you do, Private? Sit up nights figuring ways to make my job harder. You threw with me? No. Who killed the rig? I don't know. Bad choice of words. Go check a blacknash parked at the street. Got a license number? No, I haven't. Thanks a lot. Look, I'm no medium. I didn't know she was marked. Any other big ideas? A few. Keep them to yourself. They're all wrong. Now get out of here. Yeah. Say, Santucci. Eh? The lion can handle another client now. So what? Want to sign up? Well, I went home. Slept. Coffee and warmed over biscuits at the drugstore took care of breakfast the next morning. Then I checked the phone book. Louis Desmond's home address turned up on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, and so I drove out there. It was on a corner. Two-story colonial place with white colors and green shutter. The doorbell sounded like a second chorus at the Hollywood Bowl. The Japanese maid let me in, and I waited in the anti-room. That's when I caught that peculiar smell again. Somebody had just been there who smoked those Q-bebs cigarettes. Well, a couple minutes later, a tall blonde fighting thurry stepped up to me. She smelled like she just crawled out of a bottle of Platine. It was a bright morning, but she had the kind of look that had you wishing for an eclipse. Well, what do you want? Louis Desmond. Sanctus taker? No. What's he done? I don't know yet. Where is he? I don't know where he is. He didn't come home last night. Lots of work at the office? Card real, mountain gardener. Lots of work out there? He didn't say. He doesn't tell me everything. Really? Depends on what you think of your marriage, Vowes. Who are you? His wife. Want a drink, mister? Sure. What'll it be? Yours? Perfect. You pour. I don't know when to stop. All right. Here you go. To marriage. It's a mess. Cigarette? Never touch him. Interfers with my drinking. Who smokes the Q-bed? Is that what that stuff is? Yeah. The little guy walked in here looking for Louis and smelled up the place. Hi, yes, dumber. Oh, hello, Patsy. Just in time for a drink. Complete. Yeah. What's your name, fella? He knows. You're a good friend. He knows. You learn hard, don't you, Regan? What's going on? He's an eye. So what? So he gets a bounce. He's my friend. Beat it, Shamus, or I'll split you. Stay right where you are. This is my house, and I'll entertain who I want. With the boss's liquor? I've got some, right? Well, figure out what they are and try them on the boss. I don't like you, Patsy. Beat it, people. Get your paws off of me. Come on, get them off. Stop it, Patsy. You... Stop what I said! Well, you hit him pretty hard, lady. No, I didn't. His head's soft. Well, I left her picking up pieces of glass, and I drove back toward Hollywood. I was moving east on Sunset, trying to make some sense out of Desmond's domestic life. When I spotted that black sedan again, it was doing a real bad tag job on me. I pushed the pedal closer to the floor, but the sedan had better gas. It caught me going around a bend past Beverly Glen and started pushing me. It was a great place for a boulevard stop, but none showed. All it did was a reflection in my rearview mirror of the driver in the black sedan. It was feminine, and the voice spelled out Georgia Baskham. That's when she moved in for a closer look. You're listening to the story of the gambler and his ladies tonight's adventure with Jeff Regan, investigator. Listen, this is good news. Good news for you if you're between the ages of 20 and 26 and a half, married or single, a high school graduate and want to fly for the United States Air Force. Yes, the Air Force Aviation Cadet Program is offering you the opportunity to become a pilot officer in the mightiest Air Force in history. You can be one of the Air Force's men of renown, and there's more offered than the pride you feel in being a member of America's flying team, or after your 52 weeks of training, you'll graduate as a second lieutenant in the Air Force with an income of more than $300 per month. Remember, the Air Force offers you what had offered General Jimmy Doolittle, General Carl Spatz, and General Heut Vandenberg now at 42, the Air Force Chief of Staff. Call at your local Army and Air Force recruiting station tomorrow. Apply to become an aviation cadet. And now, back to the story of the gambler and his ladies, and Jeff Regan, investigator. Well, things were moving as fast as the last reel in a western movie. The lion sent me out to see a lady who was having daughter trouble. Georgia Baskham had done a tie-in with a gambler named Louis Desmond. Only it looked real permanent. She was wearing his wedding ring, and the mother ended up carrying a couple of bullets, and homicide moved in. That's when I met a blonde at Desmond's house who said she was Louis' wife. Well, I was working on the mess when a black sedan with Georgia at the wheel ran me off the road and the slugs began to fly. I peeled myself off the side of the hill, and I got in touch with the police. The sandwich he took over and invited me to headquarters for some more talk. They put me in a little room with pale green walls, and sat behind a big desk chewing a dead cigar. It was taking me all in like a Hoover vacuum cleaner on a dirty rug. Well, how do you feel, Regan? All right. You shouldn't. Why not? Looks to me like from here on in you're a marked man. I'll get along. It'll be really interesting to see how. All right, now look, have you got something to say? Well, let's hear it. Relax, Regan. You're not going anyplace. You can't hold me. I was the one who got shot at. Well, that's enough. I work out a way to hold you for creating a disturbance. It won't work. Listen, you, the bullets we pulled out of your upholstery match the ones in Mrs. Baskham. So what? So we figure she was knocked off because she knew something somebody didn't once said. We also figured that applies to you. Now, well, I'll get you nothing. All right, Regan. Play it your way this time. You'll come running back when the heaters close in. Don't make book on it. Well, if you got to get yourself knocked off, don't mess up our city's streets. Yeah, I'll be real careful. Oh, and wear a dark suit that save our morticians a little trouble. Is that all? Yeah, go on, be it, if you're... Oh, Regan. Yeah. A buffy de tu padre. What's that mean? Your father's mustache. Well, it was late afternoon by the time I walked out of headquarters. The sun was still working, but it was cold. The cab driver with a lot of conversation drove me to my place over on Taft. When I opened my front door, I smelled it again, those Q-bebs. A small face was sitting on my sofa, sucking on him. It belonged to a guy who had to stand on a box to see over a fox carrier. When I shut the door behind me, ground the cigarette into an ashtray and turned on a nervous look like a pig in a football factory. You'll landlady that me in, Mr. Regan. I hope you don't mind. I have to talk to you. We met before. We did? I don't remember. Just me and your cigarettes. Huh? Oh, you mind if I smoke? You just finished one. Oh, yeah, yes, yes, so I did. May I have a drink then? Just a small one. All right. Thank you. I generally don't drink, but tonight I... Thank you now. I barely know where to begin. Well, you better figure it out. You haven't got much time. Yes, yes. Well... Start with a name. Is that necessary? Yeah, it is. Loper. Max Loper. I'm a businessman. What kind? What kind? Oh, furrier. Yeah, I'm a furrier, Mr. Regan. All sorts of furs. Urmins. Nice. Generally, I prefer sable, but it depends on how you like it. I'm a businessman. What kind? What kind? Oh, furrier. Yeah, I'm a furrier, Mr. Regan. All sorts of furs. Generally, I prefer sable, but it depends on the woman, you know? What does Georgia get? A big pardon? Let it go. I'm not the man I used to be, Mr. Regan. My fortunes have changed. Yeah, yeah, changed. I... I think I better have that cigarette. Save it for later and start making sense. Well, I need help. Why come to me? Well, Mrs. Baskham thought enough of you to ask you to help her. You see, I know Mrs. Baskham. That is, I knew Mrs. Baskham. Her death was so sudden. It was forced. Yeah, so the paper saved, but... Mr. Regan, I want you to know I didn't do it. Who said you did? Well, nobody yet, but I didn't do it. Look, why tell me? There's nobody else I can tell. Try the police. No, no, no, that's what I can't do. I want you to prove to them that I wouldn't do a thing like that. Loper, what's your tie-in with Desmond? But... Desmond, why? There is no tie-in. You were at his car, Rome. I smelled your cigarettes there. You got nothing, I guess, and you went to his house. Mr. Regan, that's got nothing to do with it. I think different. But you're wrong, all wrong. Convince me. I didn't do the murder. That's what I want you to tell the police. Who did? I don't know. Well, now I think you do. Come on, who killed George's mother? It was her stepmother who was killed. Give me some more. Oh, you got me all confused. I guess coming to you for help was a bad idea. Something was. I'll find somebody else who doesn't ask so many questions. I better go. No, no, not yet, little man. You got too many answers. Take your hands off me. Mr. Regan, I never used one of these, but the theory is simple. Just pull the trigger. I don't know if you can find it. Don't urge me. Open the door. Go on. Sure. Now step away. See you later, Mr. Regan. It'll open. He made it to the staircase, and then the noise came. A couple of bullets blew up the spiral and caught him in the chest. He stopped in midair for a second like a yo-yo on a string, and then he toppled over and rolled down. By the time I got to him, he was all used up. Well, McCall and Tahama side brought some of the boys out, and they took care of him. A fat guy with a head like a plunger took him pictures for a paper, and a girl with a leaky fump and got the story. Took about an hour and a half to clear my place. But the minute the crowd moved out, the lion moved in. He had to go to the hospital. He was in a state of emergency. He was in a state of emergency. He was in a state of emergency. He was in a state of emergency. He was in a state of emergency. But the crowd moved out, the lion moved in. He had a sheet of paper in one hand, and his face was lit up like an old mate of the cocktail party. This concerns Louis Desmond and Georgia Baskham. You interested? Yeah. Desmond's got a wife, and her name's not Georgia. No, it's Stella, and she's a ripe candidate for a drunk tank. What else do you know about her? She's jealous. Well, there's no record any place of a divorce or of a marriage between Georgia and Desmond. That whole set up's a phony. Tell me why. Georgia's father, named Peter Baskham, was a furrier. And he was once in on a fur job with the same Louis Desmond. Go on. The old Baskham ended up with a bullet in him, and Louis with a pile of dough. How did it work? I can't find out everything. You gotta do something. You know a Max Loper? Never heard of him. You got an address on this, Georgia? Well, Arena Hotel, room 406, and Catalan Off-Wilshire. All right. The way I figured an insurance company might be real interested to get hold of her. No, the gas chamber's got priority. We figured the swindled furs, collect the fat bonus, then let the city handle her any way at once. Call me when you get it all sewed up. What are you gonna be doing? Resting at home. I'm all worn out. Yeah, well, that figures you've been doing a little thinking. The Lorraine Hotel, six stories of plush carpet and gold paint. It was night when I got there and the neon was on. The buzzer brought the door open and Georgia Baskham stood there carrying an overcoat. She had her purse under her arm and it figured she was leaving. When she saw me, she turned on a surprise look. Oh, Deregan. Moving out? Just a little errand. It'll keep shut the door. Now, see here. Howdy. Well, that's a lot of nerve. Don't let it bother you. They're bigger things. Like what? A fur job you and Louie are working on. What are you talking about? And a little murder. Throw your purse in the sofa. I will not. Come on, lady. It's getting heavy. Now open the closet door. Come on. There. I hope you're satisfied. I'm not much on fashions. Read them to me. Three earmen, three sable. Ten thousand a piece. More. Max Lopers? Yeah. You can't wear them all. You got a friend? I don't need one. All right, sis. What is it? Nothing. That's your version. You could be wrong. When's your Mary Desmond? Last week. Bad answer. He's got a wife named Stella. Bigamy, you'll get him in trouble. That's his problem. No, it's yours too if the courts can prove you knew. All right, I didn't marry him. Then why the wedding ring? Hey, you ask a lot of questions. Yeah, I do. Why don't you get out of here? Louis is not new on fur jobs. He knows how much work it is to palm him off. You're talking to yourself. Loper never got to outlive a double cross. What are you going to do with that? Nothing. Homicide will work it out. I didn't kill anybody. You'll work up a sweat proving it. Louis did it, honest. He killed my stepmother because she knew how the job worked. He gave it to Loper too. He would... How are you, friends? It must be raining. The worms are coming to the top. Hello, Louis. Regan's got it figured out. I was just stalling him till you got here. Sure, Georgia. I know. Honest, Louis. Honest. I didn't mean to say you did the knock-offs. We'll talk about it later. Better finish it now. You're not going to be around. We'll see. They got a spot all staked out for you up north. Isn't that interesting? Regan, I got a set of instructions for you. I want you to be real nice and follow them. What's in it for me? You killed me, Shameless. I'm holding all the cards. You want to rake in the pot. I better get going, Louis. We shouldn't be seen together right now. Slow down, baby. I got something for you too. Louis, I... Big mouth. I'll kill you! Regan, big mouth! Lucky you didn't have to hit her more than once. She got off easy. Everybody's got 32 teeth. Desmond moved us out of the apartment down the hall. Georgia was beginning to sob, but Desmond wasn't impressed. He held the gun under his coat and walked behind us, careful. Like an elephant on a crate of eggs. The button brought the elevator and the three of us went in. And then it started down. When the door swung open on the first floor, a whiff of bourbon came floating in, packing a 32. Louis turned white. Still a... Still! Still! I told him if he kept messing around, he was going to have trouble at home. Want to give me the gun? No. What's your name, girly? Georgia. Were you in love with Louis? I... I don't know. Well, go find out. You want it now, Regan? It's empty. You know, lady, you fixed nothing. What do you mean? Well, you're going, you'll all be together again. Well, it was all over fast, like a dollar dinner. The coroner's office sent out some boys for Georgia and Louis and Sanducci picked up Stella. Desmond had himself a pretty good thing. Do a tie-in with a furrier and move the furs across the border with nobody making a fuss. All it was slow work, but ten thousand a week's pretty good pay. And it was real safe. Loper wasn't going to say the furs were even stolen until they were turned into money. Of course, he never got to say it at all. Everything would have been all right if Stella didn't see green every time Louis saw a blonde. Well... The insurance company thanked us for what we did to expose the fraud. The lion was unhappy. He said they should have shown their gratitude with something more lasting. They gave it to him. A 1949 pocket calendar. Jack Webb is featured as Jeff Regan with Herb Butterfield as Anthony J. Lyon. It's CBS at this same time next week for more hard-boiled action and mystery with Jeff Regan, the investigator. Written by Larry Roman, produced by Sterling Tracy. Included in tonight's cast were Mary Lansing, Marvin Miller, Pat McGeehan, Lorette Phil Brandt, Jack Petruzzi, Yvonne Petey, and Sidney Miller. Original music for this program is by Millie L. Loper. Original music for this program is by Milton Charles, Bob Stephenson speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. Additional voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice mystery. In the meantime, you can check out Stars on Suspense, my other old-time radio podcast. New episodes of that show are out on Thursdays. If you like what you're hearing, don't be a stranger. You can rate and review the show in Apple Podcasts or wherever you listen. And if you'd like to lend support to the show, you can visit buymeacoffee.com slash meanstsotr. I'll be back next week with more old-time radio detectives, but until then, good night and happy listening. Now here is our star, Vimson Price. Ladies and gentlemen, in a prejudice-filled America, no one would be secure in his job, his business, his church, or his home. Yet racial and religious antagonisms are exploited daily by quacks and adventurers whose followers make up the irresponsible lunatic fringe of American life, refuse to listen to or spread rumors against any race or religion, help to stamp out prejudice in our country. Let's judge our neighbors by the character of their lives alone and not on the basis of their religion or origin.