 From Hollywood, it's time now for Edmund O'Brien as... Johnny Dalla. I just started to work on a case here in Hartford, also bonded. Okay, what's the picture? How did I know what was the picture? The one I'm calling about, an oil painting. Ensured for a quarter of a million is just... Edmund O'Brien in another transcribed adventure of the man with the action-practice-pense account. America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Yours truly, Johnny Dalla. Special investigator Johnny Dalla, too. Bay State Bonding and Liability Company, Hartford, Connecticut. The following is an accounting of my expenditures during investigation of a missing masterpiece. An investigation that took place in Boston, but turned out to be no tea party. Expense account, item one, eight dollars, mileage, Hartford to Beantown on the Charles. First stop, the Modan Art Gallery, a modest made-over brownstone in a modest business neighborhood. What's Andrew and Modan here? He stepped out of the office for a few moments, but perhaps that could help on his daughter. Oh, I see. My name is Dalla. I'm from the insurance company. They sent me up to see what I could do for you on last night's... Oh, that's such good news. Father has been beside himself. I know he'll be so relieved with you here. Now, let's see. According to my worksheet, the painting was owned by Mr. Riddle, huh? Caesar Riddle? Yes. He's an acquaintance of ours. He's not what you'd call the arty type, by any means, but he's interested in good oils. He has a very nice collection of mastos. Was this village seen on loan to the gallery, or did Mr. Riddle want to sell it? It was a loan, and that's what makes it so terrible for Father. And for me, too, he didn't want to accept the loan, and I talked him into it. You see, it's been very difficult for Father. I thought that hanging an important picture in the gallery would bring people in. And it did for three days, but... Oh, Father, this is Mr. Dalla. He's here to help us. He was sent by the company that ensured Village Seen. Ah, bless you. Bless you. I am so happy you are here. I hope I can help, Mr. Modan. The police. I know they do their work well, but they are so stern and unfriendly. To them, who is Pierre de Boigel, the elder, and Village Seen? What is that? A stolen broom would annoy them so much. Ah, don't let their attitude fool you, Mr. Modan. I'm sure they're doing everything they can, Father. Mr. Modan, I understand that nothing else was touched. What is anything next to Pierre de Boigel? It was the only master in the gallery then, huh? I'd like to see where it was hanging. Ah, of course. This door. Terrace, over there. Yes, sir. I'll be here. Mr. Dalla, I feel I must explain the importance to me personally. Is that all right? Mr. Dalla, if we do not find the canvas, my gallery is gone. Everything. All my years are for nothing. Why do you say that? Because of that man, Rito, there is a hate between us. We have not expressed it, but it is there because, well, you have met my daughter. You realize her great beauty. I have tried to protect her from this man. Now I am on my knees to him because of my character. I wouldn't give up if I were you. We haven't even started on this case yet. If we fail, I will take her away from Boston, start all over again. You come this way. In this gallery, you see my life, Mr. Dalla. Any of these canvases I bring with me from Salzburg when I leave before the Anschluss. Here, here under that light, is where the lid seam was hanged. I have hung nothing more yet. Forced this window, eh? You see it looks on the back of the property. Do you see something? No. Well, I was just wondering what I'd do with the picture of Night Stolenman. Who could I sell it to? Who would be willing to take a chance on displaying it? Oh, I'm afraid there are great many unscrupulous collectors in the world as much trade in stolen goods. And again, sometimes great masterpieces are held for ransom. For that reason, I have offered a reward of five thousand dollars myself. Hey, that's pretty steep for you, isn't it? What about Ritto? Ritto. What cares, Ritto? To him, the Countess is nothing. I wish he was right. Well, I think I've seen everything I want to see here. I'm going to check in with the police, Mr. Modan. I'll let you know when we turn something up. Did you say the beef was? M-A-U-D-A-N. Andrea Modan. Stolen painting. Call came in this morning. Modan. That'd be an estimated value of two hundred and fifty thousand. Yeah. A picture? Yeah. I'll bet you the artist was lucky if he got a month's rent out of it. The price has gone up a hundred grand every century. He's been dead. Ah, one of them old timers. You're going to have him. I don't understand him. Your man is Sergeant Hines through that door, first office to the left. I'll buzz him. You're on the way. So you came up in the Modan thing, huh? Yeah, that's right. I wanted to check in with you, find out how much I can do before you pull your rank. I run into some touchy policemen. Not here. Well, look at my hat off that chair. Sit down. Thanks. You get a free hand as far as I'm concerned, dollar. Not the thing the old man yet, Modan? Yeah. Say, what kind of a make did you get at the gallery? Nothing special. Typical window job. Heavy crowbar, no signs of worth anything outside. The old boy learned a story in the papers about the picture coming to his gallery, so it's a little tough to narrow the suspects. This guy owns at Cesarito. I've heard of him, haven't I? A lot of people have. He made his pile during the war. He was talking black mark, but nobody could pin anything on him. Then last year, he was up before the Senate Investigation Committee. Something about buying contracts. Then he came home. What are you looking for, dollar? Fraud charges? Well, let's be realistic. They may be easier to find than the painting. I've worked a few of these things. Now, the usual method is to get the canvas out of the frame with a razor blade while it's still hanging, rolled up, it's easy to conceal. On this job, it went frame and all, didn't it? That's what I got, but I'm thinking the other way. I got details out looking for that frame. I can dream, can I? It's faster my way. And I got tickets for South Pacific for three weeks after Easter. I did some spade work on Caesar Riddo that afternoon before I went to his address. His current position was that of wholesale liquor distributor for a number of distillers that managed to keep their prices high and their quality low. His financial condition was healthy, but you don't have to be broke to be able to use $250,000. I found Riddo's residence halfway up the shady side of Beacon Hill. He hadn't made the top, but he was climbing. There was a coat of arms on the wrought iron gate and a butler, complete with comma bund inside the front entrance. But the class stopped there. Charles, that's that clown from the dress shop. Give him to me. When I get through with him, you can shovel him out. It's a gentleman to see, Mr. Riddo, madam. Oh, go finish the silver. I'll talk to him. Yes, madam. Hello, my name is Dala. That's very clever, but it doesn't help. You be the sick friend he's been sitting up with lately? The insurance company told him I was coming up when he reported the theft of his painting. Oh, Riddo's folly, huh? You, Mrs. Riddo? Not yet. I'm holding out to be a June bride. Come on in the bar, Mr. Dala. You and me are interested in the same situation. My name is Lily Swanson. I don't know anything about art, but I got a few ideas about who's supposed to be modeling as a sap. You want a drink? Thanks. Don't let me stop you. I had one here somewhere. Oh, here it is. Oh, did you meet the museum piece? You mean Theresa Modan? Yeah, I met her. If you want to make a quick buck take out a policy on her life, let me, she's poisoned. Oh, it's hard to believe. What do you mean by that? I was just looking at you. You don't have anything to worry about. Amateur heard sometimes beauty is only skin deep. I want to tell you about Caesar Riddo. He's a climber. I've been good enough for him for a long time, but now he wants refinement. Doing specialties in burlesque houses, that's one thing you don't develop. Maybe... maybe I'd better have that drink. Don't get me wrong. I'm not building up to a sob story. It's just like him waking up one morning with a big interest in art and money enough to carry it off. The right people were impressed. Now he wants that dame and he's willing to gamble 200,000 if it'll help. That's why he put that picture in that fire trap. Where do you think it is now? How should I know? A point is he doesn't care where it is. He's protected. Another point is that I'm getting paid to care a lot where it is. But I can't help you there. He's got to be taught that he can't walk over people without getting hurt himself. I'm afraid I can't help you there. Then that dame, Theresa, you think she's worth it? Tell her. He's not good enough for us. She'll get hurt. He's got no more feeling for her than he has for a new suit. He'll wear her for a while. When he gets bored, he'll go shopping for a new pattern. If she's a nice kid, she ought to be told. That's quite a pitch, Lily. Caesar. I don't know if this might have been listening. I don't care. Wait till I write my memoirs. You're one of the rottenest mashings I've ever known, and I've known a few. Go fix your face. On the way, I might as well fix yours. I didn't hear enough of it to find out who you are. Name's Dollar, insurance company. Oh, yeah. Tell me, you made any progress? Yeah, general progress. I've learned that base state bonding and liability hired an investigator on the wrong end of this case. They should have looked you over before they issued the policy. With any kind of big company, you can depend on about 90% of that all the time. Rush things when the money's coming in, then be careful when it's too late. Tell me, what about my picture? Well, I don't think a nice, honest thief has it. You say that. A number of reasons. It's too hot to feel the way it was stolen. What do you think happened? You're too big to be accused on a hunch. Wait till I get some facts. Then I'll talk to you about it. Right now, I want to talk about a clause in your policy that says you shouldn't move the insured property without first notifying the company. Yeah, that's right. Big companies again. They're so tied up with procedures and rules they'd get themselves hamstrung if they tried to build a case on them. I'll find you some words in that thing that'll nullify that clause. Tell me, you think I can't? I was afraid you'd say that. You know, you've got a good head, Mr. Riddle. Yeah. Gotta say nothing of being a rotten masher. I don't see any reason to waste any more of each other's time to you. You stay for a drink? Oh, no, thanks. I very seldom drink on the job. I parked my car in an alley around the corner and then went back. I found a spot opposite the Riddle place where I wouldn't be obvious and settled down to wait for him to leave. I hoped I'd planted enough doubt in his mind to make him move if he was implicated. Whatever I'd planted grew slowly because I waited a long, cold time. Night fell and I drove closer to the house. Finally, the door opened and Riddle moved a blue-black sedan out of his garage. By the time I got my car started, a coupé pulled out of the driveway. In it, I spotted the blonde head of the lady scorn, Lily Swanson. I followed her. After a few blocks, it was evident that her destination was the Morton Gallery. I pulled up at the rear of the building. I could see a dim light burning on the ground floor. I started toward a window. But before I got to it, it happened at another one. But when I finally got inside, the only person there was Caesar Riddle. He was still alive, with the stupidity of shock on his face as he leaned against the wall under a light that had once shown up the best features of Pieta Bruegel's village scene. In just a moment, we will return to the second act of yours truly, Johnny Duller. But first, Wednesday nights on CBS bring you Groucho Marks, Bing Crosby, and Burns and Allen, an hour and a half of radio's top entertainment for the whole family. Bing Crosby, Burns and Allen, and Groucho Marks are heard in most of these same CBS stations. So make this wonderful Wednesday a steady date with CBS. And now with our star, Edmund O'Brien, we return to the second act of yours truly, Johnny Duller. I sent to Boston to find the missing village scene and found myself at the scene of attempted murder. Caesar Riddo had taken two slugs, one in his left shoulder and a grazing one in his right forearm. I phoned for police and ambulance, then did what I could to make Riddo comfortable. I turned up the thermostat, covered him with my coat. Who did it, Duller? That's the question I was going to ask you. Don't you know? Must have been outside. That's right, through the open window there. Why'd you come down here? I forgot my hat. Look, you're in no shape to try being clever. You met Teresa. Let me alone. I want to know how you're stolen painting figures into this. Leave me alone. Let me look. I met Teresa. This is where we meet. What about the painting? It was stolen. I don't feel good at all. I don't want to talk. I feel like I'm going to pass out. And he did. After the ambulance took him away, I made a statement to the police that was not false, but lacked enough truth to save a few people from being dragged in for questioning. I headed for the blonde member of that group. What do you want? Just a few words. I used up all I had early that day. Yeah, but we got new things to talk about. Such as? Well, the police might want more from me on that art gallery shooting. Is he dead? Did you know I was there, or were you just guessing? I wasn't guessing. I followed you from here. Oh, I suppose that earns you a drink. Come on. Thanks. Stop yourself. You said the police were there. Yeah, I had a column. I didn't mention your being there. Why not? Because I wanted to get to you before they hold you in. I didn't shoot him. I followed him there, but I didn't shoot him. Somebody did. There were two women there and me, and I didn't do it. Why did you follow him? Because I heard him phone that... to Racer and tell it immediately. I wanted to find out what was going on, but I didn't. I changed my mind. I didn't even stop. I'm afraid I might do something crazy if I saw them together. I'd like to believe you. It's the truth. Maybe. I hope it is because I'd like to link the shooting up with the painting. If you can't, you're going to be in bad trouble. You're pretty smart, aren't you? Things just worked out this way. You think Caesar did something with that painting for the insurance money, and you want me to help you prove it to save my own skin? No, gorgeous. No, to save the company 250 grand. You'll never die of softening of a heart, will you? All right, what comes first? I want to hear everything you know about this deal. And while you're telling me, I want you to help me go through this house from cupola to basement. This time, I believed her story, but there still wasn't anything in it to help me. The search of the house paid off the same way. No painting, no leads, nothing. At 11 p.m. I left, looked up the Modan home address and feared at the other point of the triangle in her den. It's fairly late, Mr. Darley. It's not 11. Your father here? He's upstairs in his studio. Wouldn't tomorrow morning be better? Maybe for you, but not for me. I don't want to give you all that time to get your story straight. My story's tight. Why'd you meet Ritto at the gallery tonight? Don't say that's any of your affair. A girl has a right to meet her fiancé. When and where's she visiting? Fiancé? Yes. They're to be married as soon as possible. You were with him when he was shot. Why did you leave him? Because I was terrified. Caesar told me to go. He thought she was trying to kill me. Did he say it was Lily or is this your idea? Of course it was she. Who else would it be? Mr. Darley, this situation is unpleasant enough without these insinuations from you that I don't even understand. It means nothing to you. It is a matter for the police. You have no right to meddle in our lives. You were sent here to look for a village scene. That's what I'm doing. Why are you marrying that self-styled dictator? Because I love him. Well, that won't stay down. Nobody but Caesar Ritto could love Caesar Ritto. Right. It's because I'm tired of being a poor man's daughter. I want to get away. I've finally decided what I want out of marriage. But he can give me. He's going to be a big man of the healthy one. And I'm going to be his wife. I'm sorry you heard that, Mr. Moran. They ought to be fathered. I've made up my mind. Go to bed. Go to bed with those words in my ear. My daughter, what has happened? What has that man done to you? Be quiet, father. Theresa, wait. We will not be poor all these. Go. Don't talk to me. How can this be? Suddenly, she is no longer Theresa. I didn't sleep too well that night. An all-night car line that ran past my hotel didn't help. Neither did the questions that were running around in my head. But what grew in importance was the realization that the lives of everyone who had come in contact with the village scene had been emotionally upset since I'd arrived in Boston. That is all but Caesar Ritto would only have been shocked. My half-conscious musings didn't move me forward any. But the phone call that awakened me did. Sergeant, what's new? Hey, come on. It's too early for that kind of stuff. Have you seen it? Okay. Thanks for calling. I'll go right out to the gallery. Then things began to pestering. A, the painting had been stolen in the frame. B, Moran hadn't mentioned being an artist yet he'd been working in his studio the night before. C, Caesar Ritto knew nothing about art collected as an affectation. And D, Moran had been the only one to post a reward $5,000 offered by a poor man. Then it hit me. He knew he wouldn't have to pay it. He'd posted the reward to divert suspicion. My hunch was that he had put the picture on ice himself. When I got to Moran's gallery, the copy Moran had made of village scene was there. But also hanging next to it was the original. You are surprised, Mr. Duller? Yeah. Yeah, doubly, Mr. Moran. My copy is quite excellent. Do you agree? Well, I'm not an expert, Moran. It is very good, I think, and I am pleased with it. The most important work of my career, the work of love for Teresa. Yeah, I understand. She was an ambitious girl, always. Well, that is not the fault. She is like a mother born for good things. I could not give them to her. She's a Ritto could. He's soon coming for his canvas. No crime has been committed except theoretically. You copied the original, meant to sell it, but you didn't. Maybe Ritto won't press charges. Perhaps not. And he came the first time into her life I knew. I looked at her, I knew he wanted to take her away from me. Then the gift's more expensive, each one money to buy. You should understand, Mr. Duller. This copy is a work of hate, too. You don't have to tell me these things. Why don't we wait till he gets here and see what he's going to do? Yeah, we wait. But I must say these things that are in my heart. To attempt a copy was wrong, and it was not wrong. To Ritto Breigel's village scene was nothing, he was blind. I hoped with the money I could hold the rest. But I waited too long, I was too late. He's taken her from me with his money. Come on, Miss Moda, I think you'd better sit down. No, no, no, listen. Listen, here he has come. I must be strong. Show him he is no bigger than I am. Hello, Moda. A little blood, everything turned out just like it should. The insurance company will be happy. Where is my daughter? Why, she's in the car, she thought it would be better if she didn't come in. Yeah, perhaps she is right. Ah, come on, come on, Pop, I'll take good care of her. Come on, you, you just give me my picture and we can forget. Two of them. Yeah, two of them. What's the matter with you, Moda? What does it matter? In all my life there has been no shame until now. There you see on the wall this seat. For that I am ashamed. Ah, we, we can still forget it. And in your car waiting for you, my daughter. For her I feel the greatest shame. Oh, my gracious. Moda. Hey, hey, no! No, no, no! Go to that chair and sit down. I could do nothing else. No, it is finished. Mr. Daller. My father killed him. He thought he was doing it for you. Come on, pull yourself together. He even knew my father had made a copy and that he was going to sell the original. But he didn't care. As long as I married him, he wouldn't have done anything to father. His father is a murderer. You see. A book for murder. A father who didn't know when to stop protecting his daughter. I paid a farewell visit to Theresa, the daughter who had put her father where he was by trying to help him. And I mentioned to Sergeant Hines that if he cared, it had to be Lily Swanson who had thrown those wild shots into Ritto at the gallery. Expense account item $2.08. Return trip to Hartford. Expense account total $68.30. And I want to go on record right now as saying that the next time anybody sends me out after a masterpiece, my expense account is going to be a masterpiece of overstatement. Yours truly, Johnny Daller. Johnny Daller stars Edmund O'Brien in the title role and was written by Gil Dowd and Paul Dudley with music composed and conducted by Leith Stevens. Edmund O'Brien can currently be seen starring in the Harry M. Popkin United Artists production DOA. Featured in our cast were Charles McGraw, Walter Burke, Lillian Bief, Robert Griffin, James Nusser, Joan Banks, and Tyler McVeigh. Yours truly, Johnny Daller is produced and directed by Jaime DelVeig. Join us again next week when from Hollywood, Edmund O'Brien returns in another transcribed adventure of... Yours truly, Johnny Daller. A man with a little black bag turns up on most of these CBS stations every Wednesday night. And out of it comes some of the most light-hearted and most moving stories on the air. The man, why it's Dr. Christian, of course. And tomorrow nights the night for another of his famous visits. Be sure to hear Dr. Christian starring Jean Hirschholz as the beloved small-town physician every Wednesday night. Now stay tuned for the adventures of Phillip Marlowe, which follows immediately on most of these same CBS stations. This is CBS where Wednesday night is Bing Crosby Night, the Columbia Broadcasting System.