 You can see. It's 6 10 Johnny dollar. I joined as a poor man. Oh, how are you? How are things in Los Angeles? Why didn't you know we moved back here to Sarasota, Florida? No kidding. Yeah, but now we think we'll make another move. Where to this time? Back to California. Why don't you make up your mind? Don't you come down here and see us at whose expense? Companies. Another investigation? Yes. What this time, Earl? A murder? Okay, Earl. I'll grab the first plane I can get. PBS radio network brings you Mandel Kramer and the exciting adventures of the man with the action-packed expense account. America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Yours truly Johnny dollar. It never fails. Whether it's a party evening or an ordinary weekday, people always drink more light bracing, clean tasting Pepsi Cola than you expect. That's why the smartest Pepsi you buy is the extra carton. Buy extra carton of the drink. That lets you drink young as you think. Yes, get the right one. The modern like one. Now it's Pepsi for those who think young. Expense accounts emitted by special investigator Johnny dollar to tri-state life and casualty insurance company office in Sarasota, Florida. Followings and account of expenses incurred during my investigation of the whether or not matter. Expense account item one, six dollars for a taxi out to the airport. Item two, ninety seven ninety six plane fare. And modern jet transportation being what it is. I got to Sarasota just before noon. Item three, fifty bucks deposit on a rental car. And 20 minutes later, I walked into the office at 1306 Main Street that Earl Poorman shares with another old friend, Don Boomhauer, a prominent relative. Five minutes after the usual howdy-dos, Earl and I were tearing into a plate full of shrimps cooked in beer at the famous Plaza restaurant. Those are delicious. Think you can manage another order of them, Johnny? Not a chance, Earl, but they are great. Specialty of the house, you know? No, they deserve to be. Well, while you're making a pig of yourself, let me tell you why I called you. Now go ahead. Our client's name is T Rockway Mayfield, a wild old character who made his pile up in New England. He retired and moved down here last fall. He has a big home in St. Armand's Quay. What's he do to keep busy? Fish? Golf? No, he spends most of his time with a jug beside them, sunning himself or feeding the seagulls and then shooting at them with an air pistol. Isn't that illegal? It would be if he ever hit one of them, but he never does. And he does throw big parties, always lots of pretty girls around. And don't think he doesn't go from two in spite of his age. What a life. The point is he tells me that he came down here to retire to get as far away as he could from his wife's kids. You know, step down and step in. Names are Betty and Frank Merritt. How come, well, as long as his wife was alive, she made him support them. But he felt the ought to be out earning their own living. And Johnny, I haven't agreed with them. If they're grown up, I agree with you. Anyhow, when his wife died and he retired, he left him flat there on their own until he goes, of course. So what's happened? Well, tomorrow is Old Mayfield's birthday and that means another big party. And Johnny, the kids have told him that they're coming down here to celebrate. Told him that he can't refuse them now because they're standing on their own feet. You think that's true? No, sir. I think they're coming for something else. Like what? That nasty word I mentioned to you on the phone, murder, murder. Now, let me pay the check and I'll drive you over to see him. Okay. By all means. I'm here in Sarasota yet? I don't think so. I hope not. But you can understand why I was so anxious for you to get on down here. Well, Earl, if something should happen to him while they're here, wouldn't it be just a little too obvious? Would it? Those kids are no fools, not by a long shot. Well, even so. And were the drunken mobs that he has at his parties where somebody could be knocked on the head and tossed into the swimming pool and nobody would pay any attention till it was too late or, or, you know, okay, okay, I could be all wrong. I think you must be. But is there any reason why you shouldn't stick around long enough to keep an eye on them while the kids are here? Well. You're an expense account. I suppose not. And then maybe after they've left, I'll break down and take you out fishing. Now there is a sensible inducement. On a look, there's this place just ahead now. That? The big one. Brother. And you don't think money that can afford a place like that would be worth killing for? Oh, well. Maybe you have a point there. This ever happened to you? You're driving down a long highway or working late and then monotony makes you feel drowsy. Perk up with no dose. No dose keeps you alert with the same safe refresher found in coffee. Yet no dose is faster, handier, more reliable, absolutely not habit forming the safe way to stay alert without harmful stimulants. No dose. Old Mayfield's home there in the Gulf of Mexico side of fashionable St. Armand's key was quite a place to ensure privacy. All three of the landward sides were protected by a high wall. The big house of concrete, stucco, aluminum and glass was surrounded by a broad patio full of plants, tables, chairs and lounges and more important with a large fully equipped bar complete with bartender even at this time of day beyond the patio, a swimming pool and then a clean white stretch of beach. It was obvious Mayfield did plenty of entertaining as for the man himself. Dollar, did you say dollar? That's right, Johnny dollar. I mean, with lots of sense then, a poor man. What? What do you mean? What? What's the matter with you? It's a joke. A hundred cents to the dollar, aren't there? So if he said dollar, he's got lots of sense. Hasn't he? Get it? Yeah, sure. Sure. Besides, I know all about you, dollar. I've been listening to you on the radio for years, so I'm glad to know you, Johnny. Now, let's celebrate by having ourselves a little drink. Well, it's a little early in the day, Mr. Mayfield. I don't think I... Nonsense, nonsense. It's never too early for a drink. Samantha, oh, where are you? Yes, Mr. Mayfield, right here, sir. Bring a scotch and soda for Mr. Dollar and Mr. poor man will have a gin and tonic. Yes, Mr. Mayfield. And how about you? Another one of what you've been having? No, no. This time, I believe I'll have, how does cognac in root beer with a dish of mint sound to you? That sounds terrible, Mr. Mayfield. Good, good. I'll have it. Yes, Mr. Mayfield. So that's that. By the way, poor man, you're bringing Johnny to my party tomorrow night, aren't you? Well, now, I'll tell you, I... Good, good. Johnny, my boy, you'll have the time of your life. There'll be more good-looking girls around here tomorrow night than you ever saw. I really know how to pick them, boy. Really know how to pick them. Wow, good for you. Yeah, but, uh, oh, me. Do you know why they always come? The real reason? And why they always turn on their charm for me? Why, sir? Hate to admit it. Yeah, I really do. But all they want is to get their pretty little grasping fingers on my money, that's all. But they won't. Don't you worry about that. Nobody will, not until I'm dead and gone. Did poor man tell you about those lazy, shiftless, worthless step-children of mine? Well, he, uh, he mentioned them. And you'll see him, too. They get in here tomorrow afternoon on the 430 plane. Oh, well, and perhaps I... Uh, oh, uh, that reminds me. I'd better arrange for Samantha or Charles or somebody to meet them here. Why don't you let me pick them up for you? Oh, yes, Mr. Mayfield. That's a good idea. Eh? Well, of course. Fine, fine. Pick them up at the airport, bring them here if you can't lose them, and then stay on for the party. All right. And now, Johnny, uh, now let me show you my pride and joy. You see it there on the far side of the swimming pool? That, uh, that sort of pool house with all the gadgets on the roof? Pool house? Yeah, it's a bath house for the swimming pool, isn't it? Reticulous, poor man. Utterly ridiculous. If that's all you think of it... Well, what is inside that little building, then? You'll see. You'll see. Now come along. Don't be dogged on. Yes, sir, a weather station. Oh, oh, oh, bother. Certainly fooled me. Complete one, too. You see, Johnny? Rain gauges, electronic weather vanes, anemometers, barometers, barricades, charts with icobars, snow gauge... Snow gauge? Maps, everything. Everything a regular weather purer would have. Everything. Even a correspondence school course and forecasting. Anything you want to know, here's the answer. Well, it is interesting to say the least. Why not, eh? How could I ever plan a party unless I know what the weather's going to be like, eh? Answer me that. About this party tomorrow night, Mr. Mayfield. Johnny, Johnny, tell me something. Yeah? How could I shatter you with a pistol? What makes you ask that, Mr. Mayfield? It's a my question, boy. Oh, I'm fed a middling, I guess. But listen... Good, good. Then maybe you can hit some room the way I never seem to be able to. Hit what, sir? You'll see. Eh, Sir Mayfield. Yes, Mr. Mayfield? What? Now, why, the devil, did you bring me another drink? You want me to spoil my aim? Oh, no, Mr. Mayfield. But there's no point in letting it go to waste. Ah! That's where, Mr. Mayfield, I don't know how you do it. Practice, poor man, practice. So, for the next hour, in spite of a very uneasy feeling I was beginning to have about this whole assignment, Mayfield and I tossed chunks of bread to the seagulls, then blasted away in a general direction with a couple of air pistols. Knowing the law about such things, I deliberately avoided making any hits. And old Mayfield, although he handled that little gun like a pro, didn't make any hits either. Then, just as abruptly as he dragged me into it... That's all, gentlemen. That is all. I have to get to work now in my weather lab and make out the latest report for myself. Can't be disturbed. So, off you go, off you go. Oh, sure, uh, anything you say. Come on, Johnny. Right, Earl. I'll see you tomorrow night, poor man. And Johnny, I'll see you when you bring my stepchildren, Betty and Frankie Merritton here. And you ought to stay when they get here. I want you to get to know them. I want very much to. Now, go on, will you? Go on. I got work to do. I picked up my rental car and dropped in on my old friend, Sergeant Phil Phillips, at police headquarters. I know, Johnny. I know. It just doesn't seem to make sense. I mean, Earl, poor man's worry about the old coot. Lord knows he isn't worried. And yet, if what he says about those step-kids happens to be true... Have you ever met Frank or Betty Merritton? All I know about him is what he's told me. And if it's true, he really should have protection. While they're here, but Doug Garnett, he says no. If we so much as show ourselves, he'll not only throw us out, but stop the party and get everybody down on us. I'll tell you what you better do then, just in case. Yeah? If you were to sneak a prowl car up to the outside of the wall around this place, you'd have no trouble getting over the wall if need be. Good. In meantime, you'd be looking after him inside. Right. Well, Johnny, he is just a crazy old coot, all at loose ends. Does a lot of crazy things. I know, Phil. I know. I know. I know what you mean. That's why I'm really concerned about this case. On the surface, it looks like a waste of time. Am I coming all the way down here just to attend a party? And yet? Yeah. Yeah. Treat your taste kindly with Kent. Treat your taste kindly with Kent. Treat your taste kindly with Kent. Smoked Kent. The Mike and I filter cigarettes. Yes, people who want to get away from harsh, rough-tasting cigarettes know that the one to switch to is Kent, and there's a very good reason why. Kent with the Micronite filter refines away harsh flavor, refines away rough taste for the mildest taste of all. Yes, that's your reward for smoking Kent, the cigarette that made the filter famous. So when you want to get away from harsh, rough-tasting cigarettes, remember, they'll finer the filter, the milder the taste. And you'll decide to treat your taste kindly with Kent. Treat your taste kindly with Kent. Smoked Kent. The Mike and I filter cigarettes. Tales and dinner with the poor men's, good night's sleep, and for most of the next day, I had little to do but kill time. I went out and hit some golf balls, at a nearby driving range, paid a visit to the colorful Jungle Gardens, saw the famous Ringling Circus Museum and ended up chewing the fat with some of the boys at station WSPB. Then I met the plane, picked up Frank and Betty Merritton, piled them into my rental car, and started back to St. Armand's Quay. The differences between the two of them were pretty striking. Betty was a beautiful girl with a head on her shoulders. Frank was a weak, wishy-washy, well-spoken nothing with a capital N. Don't tell me, dear girl, I think it's utterly ridiculous that he should expect me to sweat and slay and work my fingers to the bone when he has all that money that he doesn't know what to do with. I mean that! Utterly ridiculous! And I tell you that when daddy finds out that you lied to him, Frank, that you don't have a job, that you've been shittling off your friends since me all these months, he'll probably throw you out. Well, he won't find out. Unless you tell him. And if you do, dear girl, I shall be very angry with you. Just because you choose to work eight hours a day in a stuffy library five days a week. Why not? I like it. Well, it doesn't mean that I have to. Frank, he, all I hope is he gives you enough to get you off my back. Oh, he will, my dear. He will? I've figured out a sob story that would melt the heart of a statue. Good luck. You'll need it. Will I? You'll see. Just don't you interfere. I'm sorry, Johnny. Oh, it's all right, Betty. This silly squabble has been going on ever since we left the Boston airport. That's okay. I, uh... I understand that some of the parties Daddy throws down here are Lulu's. So I've heard. There'll be a big one tonight, you know. Good. I love parties. But, uh... Well, come to think of it, I won't know a soul who'll be there. But don't you worry, Betty. You'll have no problem in that department. Well, I hope not. But, uh, Johnny... Yes? Will you dance with me now and then? Just in case. Are you kidding? A chance to unpack their bags. Mayfield dragged them into a study and shut the door. So I took a swim and dressed for dinner in the party. At dinner, incidentally, Mayfield and Betty yacked away at each other like a couple of happy kids. But not a solitary word passed between Mayfield and Frankie. Frankie sat there impounded, hardly touching his food. Then, the party. So helped me. I never saw so many good-looking girls gathered together in one spot in my life. And what if a lot of them were only looking for a shot at Mayfield's money? The point is, they were there. As for Betty, we not only danced like fools, but made plans for getting to know each other much better up north after this whole thing was over. Meantime, needless to say, I kept a weather eye on Frankie, who spent most of his time at the bar looking very unhappy. Then, about 11 p.m. between dances, Mayfield came over my way. Not creepy, Johnny. You're missing half the fun. Oh, don't you worry a bit, Mr. Mayfield. I'm having a fine. Hey, wait a minute. The lights. What happened to the lights? Just a gag, Johnny. Just a gag. A gag? They'll be back on in a minute. I have a timer on the main street. It doesn't. Why? Why the blackout? What's the matter with your boy? Now, the next time they go out, and they will, they will. Not if I can find that switchbox. Now, when they do, you just grab the nearest, the prettiest girl you can find. Come on. And if you don't know what to do then, well, you and I have peace. To Mayfield. But have fun, Johnny. Have fun. Wait a minute. Johnny? Betty, what happened to you? Don't you worry, I slapped his face and hard. Only, I still don't know who was there in the darkness. Look, that lights out gag has got to go. Come on, let's find the main switchbox, so it won't happen again. You mean the lights were supposed to? Oh, no. Mr. Mayfield, go. I thought he was going over to... Weather station. By the time we fought our way over there through the crowd, the lights came on again. And there, just in front of the door, the little weather station lay a body. Johnny? Is he...? Yes, Betty. Let me through. What is it? What happened? I was over there getting a drink, and I hate a couple of... It's frightened. That's right, Mr. Mayfield. Is he dead? Yes, sir. A couple of 38s through the chest. Well, I can't say that I'm sorry, Johnny. But who? Who did this? Call the police. Somebody call the police. Sergeant Phillips and his men were already over the wall, and they really did a job. In the next two hours, they, plus a dozen more, he called in, made us thorough a search of that place as I've seen. But the result... Johnny, the gun that killed young Meryton has to be around here somewhere. It has to be, but we simply can't find it. You must find it, Sergeant. You must. And the killer, too. How about raking through the sand over there on the beach? No, it was all smoothed over before the party, and there still isn't a break in it. Hmm. To haul every one of this mob down to headquarters so the boys in the lab... Ways. Yeah? Wait a minute. I mean like a ton of bricks, and I kicked myself and not having wised up before. Oh, Charlie. What Mayfield told him. Yeah, Johnny. If what he says about those step-kids is true. Mayfield, of course. And that crazy drink of his yesterday. But I'd watch Samantha mix it out of the corner of my eye. She hadn't really put a single drop of liquor in it. And tonight? The same thing, probably. So actually, Mayfield was just as sober as a judge. And the one important piece of evidence? The gun? Yes, in his weather station. And what had he said about that? The answer. It has everything a regular weather bureau would have. It's everything. Everything? Like a weather balloon? A balloon big enough to carry a pistol far out over the gulf? Never to be seen again? Now if so, if he pulled that trigger... All right, Mr. Mayfield. Let's go down to headquarters with a lab crew and make a paraffin test of your shooting hand. Well? No. No, it wouldn't be necessary, Johnny. I did it. I killed him. I'll say this. That was a clever way to get rid of that gun. A weather balloon. Clever. Was it? The Mayfield fortune will go to Betty. And I can't think of a more deserving girl. Or come to think of it a prettier one. Expense account total including the trip back to Hartford. $247.92. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Here is our star to tell you about next week's story. Next week, a complex and unusual story with a twist that will surprise you, I think, as much as it surprised me. Tune in, won't you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. If you drive a car, remember this. Almost anywhere in the country where you see the Sinclair sign, you can save up to four cents a gallon on gasoline by using Sinclair Dino. That's because in three out of five cars, regular priced Sinclair Dino matches the performance of expensive premium gasoline, costing up to four cents more a gallon. Drive with care and buy Sinclair Dino gasoline. Truly, Johnny Dollar is written by Jack Johnstone, produced and directed by Fred Hendrickson. Music supervision by Ethel Huber. Johnny Dollar is played by Mandel Kramer. Also featured in our cast were Ian Martin, Phil Kramer, Joe Hardy, Ivor Francis, Constance Simons, and Karen McCrary. Be sure to join us next week. Same time, same station for another exciting story of yours truly, Johnny Dollar, Art Hanna speaking. Wide sports with Chris Schenkel is heard weeknights on the CBS Radio Network.