 Leslie Fairfoot. First of all, what? He's head man at TriWest, a life insurance company in Eugene, Oregon. Oh, brother, with a name like that, what's bothering the dear boy, Pat? Exactly $50,000. Yeah, how'd he lose it? He didn't. He wants to give it to the beneficiary of a life insurance policy. What's the name of this beneficiary? Jonathan Doe, also of Eugene, Oregon. Jonathan? John Doe? Oh, no, wait a minute. Be sure this isn't a gag of some kind. Hardly, I have a photo start of the policy right here in front of me. OK, Pratt, I'll take your word for it. I also take it that Percy wants to hand over the money, but can't find this John Doe. Right, but maybe you can. Expense account and my usual commission based on face value of the policy? Well, Johnny, we usually make that presale deal and whatever you may be able to save the company. But in this case, you'll stretch your point and give it to me. I didn't say no. OK, Pratt, it's a deal. I'll be in touch. Johnny. Yes, radio, brings you Bob Bailey in the intriguing adventures of a man with the action-pact expense account. America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Yes, truly, Johnny Doe. Expense account submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Doe. To the Tri-West and Wife Insurance Company, Eugene, Oregon. Attention, Mr. Percival Leslie Fairfoot. Wow. Following his account of expenses incurred during my investigation of the really gone matter, he's Fairfoot and a missing beneficiary by the name of John Doe. Oh, well, that's a living. So on 20 of the late hour, item one is 162.85, Plain Fair, Hartford, to New York, to Portland, Oregon. For some reason or other, I couldn't get to sleep during the cross-country flight. Of course, it may have had something to do with the good-looking redhead in the seat next to me. In any event, by the time we pulled to Portland a few minutes after 4 AM, I was bushed. Then I had to wait some four hours for the local flight to Eugene. It was after 11 AM when I finally walked into the office of trial Western on Jefferson Street. I was tired, hungry, and in no mood to bandy words with anybody by the name of Percival. The office is great ahead, Mr. Dollar. Thanks. He's expecting you. Very happy to see you. Oh, I'm sure. Well, come in, Dollar. Close the door and come in and sit down. You're Percival Leslie Fairfoot. Yeah, that's right. Call me Leslie. Come in. Come in. Sure. Well, you look like you've been run for a ringer, Johnny. Hop a little great. Think that might help? No, no, thanks. Or is it because you've been nipping at the jug all the way out here? Oh, hardly. Of course, there was that redhead in the seat next to mine. Oh, yeah, those redheads, they'll do it to you every time. Good looking. Well, I told you I didn't get any sleep. Baby, you're a man after my own heart. But now, listen, did Pat McQuacken tell you why I wanted to see you? Something about a missing beneficiary. Here's a story in a couple of nutshells, they do. But we've got a lot of farms around here, big ones, little ones, all kinds. A few years ago, Harvey Wakeman and his family came out here. That's Mrs. Wakeman and his 20-year-old son, Ben. It's Wakeman's policy that's involved. Just let me give it to you my own way. We'll save time. Oh, shoot. Well, Wakeman used to be a professor at some agriculture college somewhere back east. When his doctor told him if he didn't stop teaching and retire, he'd die before his time. Why, he came out here and bought this farm up this side of Kohlberg and went to work on it. He called that retiring? Oh, he did wonders with it. And when he died a few weeks ago. I don't know this. Yeah? A wife and son. That's right. But he left the insurance to somebody by the name Dad's Right to a man named Jonathan Doe. Just who is this John Doe? Ask me, Johnny. He isn't. Well, what do you mean by that? Ask me, Jonathan Doe is dead. He must have known old man Wakeman was leaving him this money, so why isn't he around to collect it? Yeah, I see. Tell me one thing, Les. What's that? How did Wakeman die? Sound asleep in his own bed in his own house. Nothing to be suspicious about if that's what you meant. OK. Now, let's get back to Jonathan Doe. Wakeman's best friend, Johnny, had a farm just north of Wakeman's on a little side road. Only I understand it. Wakeman spent almost as much time this past year over at Jonathan's helping him out as he did on his own farm. His best friend? Yeah, that's why he left him the insurance money. After all, he left his widow and his boy his own farm worth three or four times that much. I see. But now my problem is I can't find Jonathan Doe. Well, he just disappeared. Just disappeared? When? About the same time Harvey Wakeman died near as we can figure it that was three months ago. What did the police think? Well, they decided the only thing we can do is wait. Maybe he'll show up again. But you ask me, Johnny. That means wait for seven years until he's legally presumed not to be alive and then give the money to the secondary beneficiary. Legally presumed not to be alive? That's a funny way to put it. That's the way Harvey Wakeman had me write it in his policy. But you know what it means, Johnny? Sure, the statute of limitations. When someone fails to show up for seven years, the law presumes him to be deceased. But this company doesn't like that sort of stuff hanging over its head. So Johnny is up to you. Either find this Jonathan Doe or more likely prove him dead. So how are you going to start? You know something? Well, you've given me so much to go on. Right. But less. I haven't the least idea. Expense account item 250 bucks to deposit on a rental car after a big lunch at less fearful expense. I crossed the Willamette and drove north. A couple of miles inside of Kohlberg I found the prosperous Wakeman farm. As I pulled up in front of the house, a queen cut young fellow in blue jeans came over to the car. Good afternoon, Mr. Can I help you? I'm Ben Wakeman. Yeah, hi, Ben. My name's Johnny Doe. Dollar? Insurance investigator. Oh, oh, then you must be here because of Jonathan Doe. Yeah, that's right. Sure saved you people a lot of time and trouble if Mr. Doe showed up, wouldn't it? Any idea what might have happened to him, Ben? Me? Why, no, sir. Well, I have, Mr. Doe. I could hear you through the window. I'm Mrs. Wakeman, and I have a couple of ideas about what happened to him. Oh, how do you do, Mr. Wakeman? You know what I think? Well, now, Ma. I think Jonathan Doe was just so broken up over my husband's passing that he couldn't bear just staying around not being able to do anything about it. Ma, listen. He was the closest friend that ever lived, Harvey, and Jonathan Doe. Well, tell me, Mrs. Doe. Paul spent more time with him, helping him. Blowning him is intimate. Well, maybe he. I guess our Alice John was trapped here still over there. Ben? I know it is, Ma. And as soon as Mr. Waverly says it's OK. All right, all right. Yes, Paul spent more time with him lately than he did here. And with the shock of Paul's going, well, I just think he went away. Ma, I don't mean to argue with you, but. Ben, the more you say no, the more I believe it's true. You just know the best way to keep me thinking something is to say it isn't so. You're just like your father was. You said you had two ideas, Mrs. Wakeman. Well, of course, Mr. Dollar. Any reason why this Jonathan Doe wasn't just, well, murdered? Ma, please. Any reason you know of why somebody might have murdered him? Well, no, but just the same as the possibility, isn't it? What sort of a man was Jonathan Doe? Well, according to Paul. No, no, I mean in your own opinion. Well, you see, I just never did get around to meet him. Goodness knows I told Paul to invite him over here to Sunday dinner often enough. Ben? Sir? Oh, well, as I never met him either, I offered to go there with Paul a couple of times, maybe help them out, but... You want the truth, neither Ben nor I ever really saw his farm close up until they told us he'd disappeared. It wasn't that Paul kept us away from him. It's just... Well, who around here did know Jonathan Doe? Well, actually, well, I guess even we wouldn't have known about him if it hadn't been for Paul. That's true, Mr. Dollar. It's just the two of us. Kind of funny that they knew so little about Mr. Wakeman's closest friend and beneficiary of his insurance. But the more I questioned them, the more sure I became that they really didn't. More important than I was, Mrs. Wakeman's constant jabbering nearly drove me off my rocker. So after learning that the Eugene police had made what little investigation there was, I drove back to town, dropped in at headquarters. Well, you really should ought to talk to Sergeant Conroy, Mr. Dollar. He's the one really been out looking for that Jonathan Doe. John, don't think that'll laugh. Yeah. Well, there's Conroy around here now. It's his afternoon off. I don't know where you'd find him. Give me on duty 8 a.m. in the morning, though. Okay, thanks. I'll catch you then. Sure. I spent the rest of the afternoon contacting everybody I could think of who might have had some contact with Jonathan Doe. At the post office, I learned the delivery man had only seen him at a distance, driving Wakeman's tractor across the field. None of the merchants remembered his having ever come in. I drove out into the country again, talked with other farmers living nearby. None of them knew anything about him, nor had ever seen his face. I drove to his farm, went over the place with a fine tooth comb. Result? Nothing. Except perhaps that it was obvious he'd never owned a car or any livestock, nor many of the usual agricultural impuls either. As a matter of fact, the Alice Chalmers Mrs. Wakeman mentioned was the only motorized piece of it. Wait a minute. No comment. I went back to Eugene again, checked with ticket offices, bus, plane, and railroad. Nothing. I began to wonder if this John Doe ever existed. But then at City Hall in the Hall of Records, I had that idea knocked right out of my head. Well, here are the records, Mr. Doe, all in order. Now look, tell me this. Did you ever see and talk to this man? Well, no. Well, who in this office might have talked to him? Well, I would have, but you see... Hey, no, wait a minute. Where's the signature on these? Well, you see, they were all signed by Mr. Waverly. Waverly? Well, that lawyer, John Waverly, had his power of attorney. Well, I find him. Well, I understand he went up to Portland Oh, son of a gun. Somebody around this town must have known this. Jonathan Doe must have seen him somewhere, sometime. Well, of course, Mr. Doe. All right, who? Well, no, that's something I just don't know. It was late and I was beat, so I grabbed dinner in the room at the park. That's item 31170 and spent the next nine hours getting some much-needed sleep. Item 4, first thing in the morning, a bug, 85 for breakfast. Then I barged on over to police headquarters again. Sergeant Conroy was cooperative enough, but not very helpful, if you know what I mean. Well, you've learned just about as much about Jonathan Doe in one afternoon as I have in three months. Yeah, but, Sergeant, it just doesn't make sense that no one, not one, around here is... Well, if only I didn't know young Ben so well. What? Are you seeing him? Chipped off the old block. This is hard-working, just as honest as his father was. What about him? Well, anybody else but him, I'll have locked him up first and ask the questions later. What are you talking about? Speaking of that, you ever get so many answers the question you didn't ask is when Mrs. Wakeman started getting away with it? Conroy, nice and up the woman I gave. I always did feel sorry for Mr. Wakeman having that mouth or his around all the time. Wait a minute, what do you mean about young Ben? The insurance, will it? What? Secondary beneficiary, you know. If Ben, who gets that money, Jonathan, don't ever show that. That's right, at least that's... You're sure of that? That's what I understood from Les Fairfoot. He's the... Yeah, yeah, I know who he is. But why he didn't tell me that? Conroy, I'll see you later. Oh, look, Donner, I told you about that, boy. That boy is somebody I want to find out more about for myself. Prince Account had him five-ten cents for a telephone call to Les Fairfoot. Johnny, you're not trying to tell me Ben could have killed him now? Didn't he? Or maybe he paid him off to disappear this way? When by simply staying around, he could box? Are you sure that Jonathan knew he was beneficiary of that policy? Well, I'd certainly imagine old man Wakeman would have told him so. Wakeman never said he did. Well, no. You ever tell him to Jonathan? I never even met him. Not you nor anybody else. And I've been wasting all this time trying to find someone who did who knew something about him. But, brother, that's all beside the point now. What are you going to do? Go out to that farm for a showdown with Ben Wakeman. Showdown? I'm afraid I kind of made a fool of myself trying to trick that boy into confessing that he disclosed to Jonathan Doe. He had an answer for everything. But I mean a straightforward, honest, I-do-I answer, as for his mother. Ben? Who's worked so hard to take care of me and Pa ever since you first got sick? How can you say such a thing? It's all right now, Mother. It's just Mr. Doherty. It's enough for he's accusing you of the most horrible, the most awful thing. Then he has no right to. Well, look, Mr. You think that, Ben, this wonderful boy who's taken such good care of this farm just like his father wanted, and who's even taken care of Jonathan's place ever since he's been taken care of us? Oh, to scratch your eyes out for even thinking such a thing. Well, I-I'm sorry, Mrs. Wakeman. You'd better be. And you'd just better get out of here. Mother, please. I have no sense. I'd sue you. I'd call up John Waverly and tell him... Wait a minute. Waverly? That's right. Call your Waverly. He was Dad's attorney, Mr. Doherty. Your father's too? Of course. Then he's the one I want to see. Just don't you worry about that. You just come around here like this anymore and you'll see him and call him. Mrs. Wakeman. Go on, now get out of here. Mrs. Wakeman. I may end up by owing you a big fat apology. You certainly will, but right now... But until I talk with this lawyer... Right now, you can just get out of here. Yes, ma'am. I can't say that you were very wise, Mr. Doherty, trying to always take cross swords in Mrs. Wakeman. You see, she was one of the reasons Harvey Wakeman spent so much time on his... on the farm of Jonathan Doherty. Just to get some peace and quiet. Yeah. Now, Mr. Waverly, let's stop beating around the bush. Are you going to tell me something about this, John Doe? No. No? You're the one person I found. You had his power of attorney. You're the one person who must have seen him, must have known him. No, Mr. Doherty. No, what? What are you talking about? Did you see Wakeman's insurance policy? I know about it, naturally. First beneficiary, Jonathan Doe. Right. The money to go to the second beneficiary... That's when Wakeman. Yes. At such time as Jonathan Doe legally is presumed not to be alive. Sure, when the statute of limitations runs out at the end of seven years, but it's kind of a screwy way to put it. No, I hadn't put it that way. Huh? To set until such time as Jonathan Doe legally is presumed deceased would have meant nothing. What? That's right. For the simple reason that he was never alive. Huh? Ben is a young man. His father loved him very dearly. The boy meant everything to him. Wakeman knew he didn't have long to live. He arranged it so that his farm and the profits from it would pass to his widow and his son. Well, of course. But he wanted to do more for the boy. After Ben had really reached maturity. And do it, incidentally, without seeming to slight his widow. So, by inventing this Jonathan Doe, putting the other farm in Jonathan's name, all of it completely legal, by the way, I attended to that myself. It means the 50,000 can't possibly, can't possibly go to Ben while he's still a kid. Exactly. Nor could his widow. And she's not the most level-headed woman in the world. Nor could she possibly upset the whole plan. And the other farm? I can show you papers in my files that will turn that over to Ben when he receives the insurance. But I will be a monkey. Then this Jonathan was the real McCoy. A real Jonathan. In the true legal sense. The fictitious name of a completely non-existent person. But for such a sound logical for such a good reason, Mr. Dollar, that I... I... Tell me. Yeah? Don't you agree it's best if neither Ben nor his mother find out about this until, say, until about seven years from now? Yeah. So, Les, you can just hold this 50,000 dollar payment outside and outstanding for a while. And don't forget to keep up the interest on it. Also, I think you have sense enough to keep your mouth shut about it. So, expense account total including another hotel bill and the trip back to Hartford? 40105. You're a sterling. $20. A star to tell you about next week's story. Next week, a very clever device to cover a murder. And it almost worked. Join us, won't you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. It's in Hollywood and is written, produced and directed by Jack Johnstone. Heard in our cast were Virginia Gregg, Lawrence Dobkin, Marvin Miller, Sam Edwards, Judith Mathews, Stacey Harris, and Bart Robinson. Be sure to join us next week. Same time and station for another exciting story of yours truly, Johnny Dollar.