 I wish you'd do investigate the death of one of our clients. All right. Have you ever heard of Taylor Montescofield? Uh, the old theatrical producer? Yeah. Sure. Well, well do I remember. Now what about him? Know that he died yesterday. No, I didn't know. What do you think otherwise? I do. Why, sir? Because of the... Three quarters of a million. Yeah, Mr. Westbury. I think I'd better. In the exciting adventures of the man with the action-pact expense account, America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator... Who is truly Johnny Dollar. And now, act one of yours truly Johnny Dollar. Better by special investigator Johnny Dollar. With a worldwide mutual insurance company, Home Office Hartford, Connecticut. Following as an account of expenses incurred during my investigation of the noxious needle matter. Expensive account at 185 cents for a taxi to the Office of Worldwide. When I got there, I had to go through a receptionist and two secretaries to get into Mr. Waldo R. Westbury's private office. Please sit down, Mr. Dollar. Thanks. Well? Now, uh, here's the policy I mentioned. Providing $750,000 insurance on the life of the late Jay Lamont Scofield. That's a lot of money, Mr. Westbury. Incidentally, was he married? Scofield? Surrounded by beautiful women all his professional life? No. Then who is his beneficiary? This policy has been in effect only 13 years, but... Look here. Look at these writers. Changing the beneficiaries. Goldie Laferne. Sounds like a burlesque. She was. After his money, of course, Toodles Tempest. Wow. He hollied them. Baby Boodles Bakers. That's worse. Bubbles Jones, holy smoke. Pepper Caprice Carsters. Cupcake Delon. Hey, what's this doing here? Mary T. Smith. She is the present beneficiary. Well, it's quite a come down from all those babes. Uh, Mr. Dollar, the initial T stands for torso. The stage designation she used. Oh, and you think she bumped him off to collect the insurance? Bumped him? Uh, yes, I do. But if a medical report says the old man died of natural causes? At the time of his death, Mary Smith, Mary T. Smith, was his progress, responsible for his care, the medication he received, and so forth. Ah, I see. I'm glad you do, because if you can prove she murdered him. In spite of the doctor's report? Yes. You can save our company a great deal of money. I don't often say this, Mr. Dollar, but in view of the amount involved, there'll be no questioning any necessary items on your expense account, no matter how high. Necessary items? Well, surely you wouldn't think of listing any unnecessary expenditure. Dream on, Mr. Waterbury. Hm? Well, what? Nothing. You say that Skopeal died yesterday. Yes, today afternoon. Where? At his home in Cranford, New Jersey. Do you know who his doctor was? Yes, Dr. Leonard Foote. Good. Now, I wonder where this nurse is. Anybody keeping an eye on her? Yes, you'll find her there at Skopeal's home. Obviously, she's a very smart woman. You mean smart enough not to run? Well, I'd put it the other way, Mr. Dollar. Smart enough to have made him name her in his policy and to stay around to collect. You know anything about her? Only that she was a show girl before making this pretence. Yeah, but if a doctor was willing to have her take care of them, you know anything about him? Frankly, no. Then I have a sneaking suspicion I'd better pay him a visit. Item 2, $4.15 for another taxi then a train down to New York. At Grand Central, I ran up Item 3, $50 to deposit on the drive-your-own car. Item 4, $0.50 to get through the tunnel to Jersey. In the city of Elizabeth, I headed west and route 28 to the pretty little town of Cranford. Then directly to the combination home and office of Dr. Lennon Foot, where I cooled my heels for a half hour in the reception room. Bye, Dr. Goodbye, Jimmy. Come in, please, Mr. Dollar. I'm sorry, they've had to keep you waiting. Oh, that's kind of right, Dr. But if little Jimmy say it doesn't stop eating green apples, he's gonna have worse than a tummy ache. Your company called that you'd be here because of the death of J. Lamont Scofield. Sit down. I'll be very honest with you, Dr. His insurance company thinks your opinion of death from natural causes might be wrong. My tentative opinion, Mr. Dollar. Lamont Scofield suffered from, well, rather than bore you with a lot of medical terminology, let's say he had a heart condition, one that required that he take it easy and, of course, medication. What kind of medication? Digitalis, for the most part, to limit the frequency of his heart contractions. And more recently, he's been receiving intravenous injections of cedulomid. His nurse gave him the injections? Yes, under my orders. I, uh, understand she's an old burlesque. Some years ago, he starred Mary in one of his Broadway productions. It was a flop. But shouldn't he have had a regular, licensed, registered nurse? She was a registered nurse, Mr. Dollar. Is she still a good looker? Over the years, Lamont kept himself pretty well surrounded by, um, when some of them were very pretty girls. Well, not just Mary, sir. I doubt they were all after his money. Including Mary. Well, Mr. Dollar, I told you my tentative opinion was death due to natural causes. So the paper's reported. But now let's face it, Doctor. If she hastened his demise by, say, an overdose of one of those injections. I learned. And while acting under your orders by using something that you put into her hands. No, just a minute. It could look pretty bad for you too, couldn't it? Are you trying to imply? I'm just stating facts. Imply that I might have conspired with that girl to bring about the death of one of my kids. Such a thing is always a possibility now, isn't it? Well, are such tactics usually part of an investigation like this? Why not? If you were guilty, if I could get you riled up, catch you off your guard. I see. I don't like you, Dollar. I shall expect your apology. I'll see. As I started to say before you interrupted me, I learned just this morning from Monty's attorney that Mary Smith is the heir to Lamont's estate and the beneficiary to his insurance policy. You didn't know this before? I did not. Nonetheless. As a result, I have ordered his body held at the coroner's office. Oh. Yes, so that a complete autopsy can be made. Oh, I see. I'm sorry, Doctor. Would you like a towel, Mr. Dollar? Towel? To wipe the egg off your face? Act two of yours truly, Johnny Dollar, in a moment. Sometimes we may wonder why a football team doesn't quit playing and walk off the field when it finds itself 50 points behind with only a few minutes of play to go. What is that indomitable spirit that fills men with hope and keeps them going in spite of terrific odds, keeps them going just to play the game according to the rules, just to get the job done as well as they know how? This kind of spirit pervaded the feelings of heavy bomber crews of the 9th Air Force on that day of glory, August 1st, 1943, the day of one of the most secretly planned surprise bombing missions of World War II, the day of the low-level attack on the Romanian oil refineries at Trosti. More than 170 B-24 heavily loaded bombers took off in a swirl of red dust from Benghazi, Libya to bomb a highly defended priority target. The element of surprise in the low-level attack was to be one of their greatest weapons. But things went wrong from the start. Three planes exploded during takeoff operations. 11 more aborted due to engine trouble. Of those that reached the target area, less than one-third returned to home base. The leaders of the mission encountered navigation difficulties and difficulty in identifying the specific targets. And due to the loss of that elemental hope, surprise, they also encountered devastating enemy firepower from flak and fighting. The mission was partially successful, but a horrifying experience. Five medals of honor were awarded to the heroes of the Ploesti raid for valorous action above and beyond the call of duty. At any time, the men would have been justified in turning back, but they had a code of conduct that made them want to see the unequal game through to the end. It was a job that had to be done. A charge of the light brigade in the air as they flew down the valley of death to glory. And now, act two of yours truly, Johnny Dollar and the Noxious Needle Matter. Yes, Mr. Dollar, as soon as I learned that this ex-showgirl was to be Lamont Scofield's sole heir, well, I realized the same possibility that I'm sure you must be considering. That she may have helped him over the hill. Precisely. I know all things being equal, Doctor. Do you feel that he should have lived on a wound? Well, a bad heart is concerned one can never be certain, of course. But knowing his desire to live, his willingness to adhere to my instructions and take care of himself, plus the medication I provided. The medication given by this Murray Smith? Yes. I would have way, Judy, could live on for 10 or 15 years. Why don't we know the results of the autopsy? A toxicologist by the name of Stanley has been called in at my request. It may take several days. I see. Meantime, then, I'm going to see this Murray Smith. Incidentally, the police found no sign of any poison of anything that might have been used to cause Lamont's death. You mean the police have been in on this? Yes. They've been very thorough. Then why the autopsy on a toxicologist? Because the least detectable means would have been an overdose of medication. I see. Now, Doctor... I've really told you all I can, Mr. Donald. Why don't you go along and see Murray Smith? Yeah, well, I intend to, but not tell me. Call me if you need me after you talk with her. Goodbye, Mr. Donald. When that autopsy report comes through... I'll let you know. Goodbye, Mr. Donald. That was all I could get out of it. The home of the late J. Lamont Schofield turned out to be a small place on 3rd Street, nestled in amongst some fine old oak trees that gave it a quiet sort of isolation. A far cry from the bright lights of Broadway. Apparently, he had taken his doctor's advice. I wondered about the ex-Burley Queen, turned nurse, who'd managed to save enough of her looks and figure to charm him into leaving her his all. Matter of fact, I've often wondered how a lot of those old war horses... Yeah? Oh, how you do? Uh, that is a... I'm looking for a Miss Murray Smith. I'm Murray Smith. Oh, of course. Believe me, I guess wrong. Because when it comes to describing Murray Smith... well, there's only one word that does justice to her. Wow. She was in her mid-20s tall, blonde and beautiful. Yeah, she looked as though she just stepped out of Charles of the Ritz. Can I see it again? Wow. Don't just stand there. Who are you? Oh, uh, Johnny Daller. I'm an insurance investigator. Oh, gee, I've heard of you, Johnny. You know something? The reason better looking than I thought she'd be. Won't you come in? Yeah, thanks. But why did she send you here? There's no question about my getting Murray's insurance, sister. Well, it's just that the company always demands a routine investigation where such a large sum is involved. No kidding. Sit down, huh? Yeah, thanks. Can I pour you a drink? No, no, thank you. Oh, come on. Have one with me. I've been so glum around here since Marty died, and nobody here except a lot of crepe hangers. A little one? Well, okay. Okay. Yeah, I can't just sit around and look brief-stricken. Have you been brief-stricken, Murray? You want the proof? No. What good was doing Marty living that way, not able to tear around like he used to, putting on shows and having a big time? Here, Johnny, here's to life, love and the pursuit of happiness. School. Oh, that's better. I really needed that. She's got a lot of money, Johnny. I? Oh, no, not much. No, I never had any either, but I will now. Plenty. Then you know your Lamont Schofield's heir. Oh, you've got your life I do. I had to work for it long enough, feeding him and nursing him, taking care of him and sending off a lot of old goodies from the old days who were trying to get their claws on him. But you managed to get your claws on him. Well, wouldn't you have done the same thing? See? Not paid off. Took him a long time to die, though, didn't it? Johnny, I've been on 24-hour duty here for two years, for two solid years, and I make no bones about it. There were times when I thought he was going to live forever. There were times when I wished I could help him out of this world. So finally you did? Johnny, here, let me freshen your drink. Mary, I think you killed Lamont Schofield. Well, I'd like to see you prove. I don't think I'll have to. Oh, why not? Isn't that why you came here? I came to make sure you don't try to slip out when the autopsy report comes in. Autopsy? Oh. Does that scare you? No, of course not. Let's face it, Mary. When somebody shows an attitude like yours, it means you're completely innocent. Or guilty as the devil. At least it makes it very confusing for you and for the police, doesn't it? So you're having a ball? Of course I am. Listen, Johnny, I don't blame you a bit for thinking I killed Monty. You did what I had to do to get it and then I'm going to get it. Yeah, you did what you had to do. So if the autopsy shows he was given poison... Don't worry, it won't. Or that he was given a nova dose of digitalis or whatever it is he was getting. No, that would be stupid with nobody here but me. Nobody but you? I admit it's so useless except me for over a week. Since the last time Dr. Foote came to see me. You're sure of that? Well, of course I am. Then if somebody did kill him, it would have to be you, nobody else. Yes, you. Remember that, Mary. Would you like me to put it down on paper for you and sign it? Yeah. Would you? Sure. I'll do anything, Johnny. If it'll confuse you. All right, then start writing. Why not? Now, let's see. I, Mary T. Smith. Is that all right for Scott? Oh, excuse me. No, no, no, no. Keep writing. I'll take it. All right. I, Mary T. Smith. Oh, yes, Doctor. Yes. Oh, I see. Not even the possibility of too much of... I see. And you're sure? Of course I'm sure. Okay, Doctor. Are you disappointed, Johnny? Because they found no poison, no overdose of surveillance? I guess you know the answer, don't you? Of course I do. The autopsy showed nothing. You can't build a case out of them here. Did your little paper all signed and sealed? Johnny, I don't want it, and you said you did. You're far too smug, Mary. I have a right to be. You're barking up the wrong tree. You cannot build a case on nothing but thin air. Yeah, yeah, I know. So what do I do, Johnny? Just sit here and wait until your company pays you the money. Can't build a case? Until the estate is settled or can I collect it? Yeah. Yeah, Mary. You stay right here. And thanks for saying that. Huh? Johnny, what do you mean? Hey, Johnny Duller, in a moment. Times have changed, and so has the man. In the year 1775, a patriotic enterprising American by the name of David Bushnell invented a strange craft. It was constructed of two oak beams resembling two platters, plaited together, and propelled by a water screw attached to a hand-operated crank. Another water screw regulated the depth to which the craft could descend. This was the American Turtle, the first United States submarine. 179 years later, 1954, the United States came up with another first. This time, however, it was a 3,000 ton, 55 million dollar vessel powered by an atomic reactor. It was the Nautilus, the world's first atom-powered submarine. And where the American Turtle was a one-man operation dependent on courage and brawn, the Nautilus is a complicated network of advanced electronics, the operation of which is dependent upon a team of highly trained, skilled navy men. Know their jobs, and do them well. Yes, times have changed, and so has the man. And now, act free of yours truly, Johnny Dollar and the Nutschers' Needle Matter. Expense account item 4.370 for a phone call to my own doctor back in Hartford. A man very much interested in criminal medicine. I asked him about a couple of ideas I suddenly had for committing the so-called perfect crime. I got some enlightening answers, then hung up and drove into the coroner's office. I told you over the phone, Dollar, we found nothing to indicate. Yes, excuse me, Dr. Foot, you're a toxicologist who did the autopsy, Dr. Stanley? Yes, Mr. Dollar, and there's Dr. Foot, too. Listen, could Lamont Scofield possibly have died of an embolus in the brain, maybe? Well, yes, I suppose so. Can you find out by further examination? Of course. Then go to it. What is this, Dollar? Are you trying to play doctor now? I told you in the beginning, I don't like your tactics. Right, Mr. Dollar, an embolus in the brain. Well, what should have led you to this? All right, now listen, I don't know where the equipment is that Mary Smith used to give the medication to Mr. Scofield. I have it all here, Dollar. The remains of the bottle of cedillinib that I prescribed, the hypodermic with which she administered all in this kit. Which needle did you use, Dr. Foot? The small one, of course, he only received two CCs, one of these others, this big one, simply part of a set. Only the smaller one ever had anything in it. We checked. The others never contained anything more substantial than air. That's right. Air. What? Mr. Dollar? Yes, Dr. Steele. 30, 40, 50 CCs of air, plain air injected into a vein. Yes, of course it would cause an embolus. And if you were to find traces, microscopic traces of the flesh of Lamont Scofield in that hypo to contain nothing but air. Yes, yes, of course. I'll go to work on it immediately. If he does find traces of dermal tissue on that needle, I can't believe it. A case built on nothing but thin air. Yeah. And the irony part of it is the tip-off came from Mary T. Smith. Yes. The microscope showed that needle had been used on Jane Lamont Scofield recently. Pretty slim evidence, I know. But when Mary was faced with it, well, I'm still not quite sure why. Maybe we scared her. But she broke down and confessed the murder. If she'd been wrong, sometimes you can build a case on nothing but thin air. Expensive count total, $61.20. Yours truly, Johnny Doller. And is written, produced and directed by Jack Johnstone. Heard in our cast were Virginia Gregg, Marklick Robinson, Marvin Miller, and Junius Matthews. Be sure to join us next week, same time and station for another exciting story of yours truly, Johnny Doller. This is Roy Rowan speaking.