 Personal notice. Danger's my stock and trade. If the job's too tough for you to handle, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. Do you remember way back in the 30s how the blowhards went around with the spiel? A car in every garage, a chicken in every pot. Do you know why they didn't have more success? They'd love something else. A Valentine in every closet. Think of all the trouble he'd have saved you. Like the time Junior ran rover through the lawnmower, as he figured he'd look better in a crew cut. I don't take it out on the little rascal just because he has aspirations to be a barber. Let George do it. You'll give it to him once over light, like he never got. Yeah, there's nothing new under the sun to George Valentine. He gets all kinds of mail. Take the letter he's about to get from this old tumbleweed character. Mr. Valentine, sir. I'm a cowboy movie star. I'm sure you must have seen me some time, even if it's only on television. Anyway, I know how silly it sounds, but I need help. There's the most desperate situation that requires the action of a hero. And while I'd like to qualify, this same situation requires certain proficiencies that I haven't got. Notably, there's a mystery. Mysteries aren't my longest suit. You see, I'm at her. Her, I mean, but just barely. Mr. Valentine, this lovely young lady I refer to, she's in distress. She is. But Mr. Disbro, in your letter, you didn't tell us... Daphne. That's who she is. Daphne. Y'all. I met her just the other day. You realize I was talking to a man. I know a songplugger. That's like a fuller brushman, only with music. He pointed her out. The little schoolteacher type, it's always having westerns, you know, big bashful blue eyes and a hair like honey and a heart just as big as all out of doors. With a head to match. I know. Who cares if she's smart? I don't. Anyway, I find this little girl lives all alone, way up in the Imperial Crest Apartments. Uh-oh. I'll take it back. Daphne does all right, doesn't she? Oh, she has money, but she's nervous, if you know what I mean. So nervous she'll hardly talk and afraid... I think somebody's watching her up there. Well, I'm not surprised. A big bad wolf, maybe. Me? No, no, this is different. It is. She didn't even want to meet me and most women do. Oh, now look, cowboy. Yeah, and today, when I tried to talk to her on the street, even after I'd been properly introduced, she just up, walked away. So am I. No, wait a minute, Mr. Valentine. If the man she walked away with hadn't been carrying a gun... Oh. So maybe it is a case, huh? What man? Big. Bigger than both of us. Black hair and sour face. Her husband, maybe. No, she told me she wasn't married. I don't know who he is, but she's afraid of him, all right. Uh-huh. And what do you want me to do? Scare him away? No, figure it out, Mr. Valentine. Go meet her and protect her before something worse happens. Don't let me know before it does. No, I see. That's it. I do the dirty work, hand you the answers, and then you step in to scare away the wrestlers. And win the girl, of course. Well, that's right, honey. Having to keep my public name intact, my fans and all, you know, I'm a beautiful patsy. Okay, partner. But don't think you've got a corner on the market. Well, you better get out your earplugs, kiddies. Cosme thinks there's going to be plenty of shooting in this here opera. Oh, but don't put them in for just a minute. Because first, I want you to hear this. You know something? I did this whole hard good. Now let's see if George is doing any good for Daphne. Uh-oh. Hey, George, someone is trying real hard to bump you off. Hey, George! Duck! Hey, what the... I put your cigarette out, didn't I? One shot at 30 feet. That's pretty good. Oh, but I missed the sandbag again. Look at them holes in my wall. Oh, now don't be angry. I'm practicing here on my roof garden. See that clay pipe down there? I never miss. Oh, fine. You must make a big hit with lots of people. Well, my landlord and neighbors do complain once in a while. See the other pipe? But I talk them out of it. Well, now look, I don't talk so easy. Don't you? No, he doesn't. Not when you're around, you mean. Oh, right, Annie Oakley. So you're nice to look at. Daphne, Daphne Crockett, girl type Davey. Crockett? Oh, of course. The club Paris. I've been there five years, long as to run of any acting night clubs. Everybody likes my shooting. Oh, so that's it. Little Red Riding Hood turns out to be too gun-nilly. Professional bullseye artist. Mr. Valentine, where are you going? To see the bull about some black eyes. No, no, wait a minute. I'm here now. I might as well speak my peace, even as only for laughs. Please. Like Miles Standish? In a way, only John Alden's name this time is Rafe Disbro. Oh, him. Yeah, yeah. He's funny, all right. He thinks you're in danger. The cowboy says you're being watched up here. He says what? Well, there's the building next door. I guess from that one apartment over there you could probably... Oh, no. No, of course not. All right, lady. But the rest of my recitation says you're afraid of a big man, black hair, sour face. How about that one? Mr. Disbro has quite an imagination, hasn't he? Maybe. And maybe not. I suppose he sent you over here to protect me. That was a general idea. And think twice before you say no. I'll show you what I think of Mr. Disbro in spite of that lovely Texas accent. You see those three little dolls in a row? Lady, I said think twice. And there are three bullets left in this gun. Oh, now look, if you are in trouble, Daphne. Three answers you can take back. Okay, lady, never mind. We get the idea. Okay, that was four. Miss Crockett, Daphne! No, I'm all right. Oh, God. You missed me. What missed you? Where'd that extra shot come from? No. No, there wasn't one. Get out of here, won't you? Please leave me alone. Please, leave me alone. Don't waste your breath, lady. We've already gone. George, shall I telephone Lieutenant Riley? No, he's on vacation. Ask for Clarion. Tell him to get up there fast. I've got a date next door, Range. There's a card outside this apartment. It says R.C. for you, him. I don't know. For you? Now look, bright eyes, I want... What's to look? A guy comes busting in, upsets my equilibrium. I'm teaching myself to nasty. Now go away. All right, don't mind me. I won't tell if you cheat. Your manners get worse. The door's back that way. Remember? Yeah, just call me a building inspector. Come to take a look at your window, that's all. Don't fall out. Yeah, this is it, all right. The only apartment from which you can see the roof garden. You don't say. The only apartment from which you can take a pot shot at a woman across the way there. Sit down. Maybe we could both learn canasta. You always wear a hat when you play cards? Sure. What woman? What's it cover up? Black hair to match your sour face? I said what? We don't like each other much, do we? Daphne Crockett. I was there when it happened. Now we like each other less, huh? I don't know. Friendship begins slow sometimes. Sit down, will you? I'll deal out a few. What do you use for chips? The bag there? The black bag there by your foot. The one you're trying to keep me from seeing. A real observant boy, aren't you? Wait a minute. I can see your hand when it starts to move, so stop moving it. I'm dealing this, Inspector. No, you're not. Too bad nobody can argue with a blackjack, Inspector. We might have had a nice little game. Shall I tell you what hit you, Valentine? No, but don't tell me that's Lieutenant Clary's voice, not at last. At last. Valentine, if you'd wait for the police once in a while, I'd look better yet if you wouldn't get mixed up in cases like this. All right, all right, just sound just like Riley. My headache's bad enough. His name was Curly. Curly Blacks and the strong boy wanted for ducking out of prison back east. What was he in for? He was having time for shakedowns. He was a blackmail artist. Blackmail? Hey, is there a little black bag still around here anyway? No, mine of course not. No, there isn't, George. And this Curly may have been the man Rafe saw once with Daphne, but I don't think he took the shot at her across the way. He didn't talk like he did. Not to mention the small fact he had a gun, but it was still loaded and hadn't been fired for some time. So you know an awful lot, don't you, Lieutenant? Come on, wake up, open your baby blue eyes wide. Ah, Curly's did, huh? Well, I know I didn't do it. No, no, no, you just slept through it, that's all. First you get mixed up in it, but then when you might be useful, you take a rain check while Curly takes a bullet. Bullet? One shot, clean as it was, right through the heart or short distance. Yeah. And he was armed. Somebody outdrawn was surprised him. And a marksman too, huh? Or a markswoman. Yeah, where is she? Where is she? Where do you think she is? Gone, of course, and why we looked for her? There was all the time in the world for this to happen, all the time. Let's take it easy. Hey, somebody's coming. And remember, Lieutenant, the girl didn't shoot at herself out there on the roof. And if Curly hit it, she wouldn't. Keys. Sure. Sure, it's the guy who lives here, our CV, you want a bet? All right, friend, that's enough music. You can notice us now, grab him there. Okay, put down that stick, Buster. That's better. Well, it's a surprise that's all. You can let me go. I'm all right. You're all right. Sure. You're breaking my heart. You never leave a tune unfinished. Had to finish it, that's all. Hey, didn't expect a room full of roses. Sit down. Roses are in seventh place this week, you know that? My name's Curly, homicide. All right, sit down. Bless you, my friend. Hold on, Lieutenant, just a minute. Roses are number seven. How's jealous heart? A little raise on records. Down in sheet sales, though. Oh, but you ought to hear the blues number again. A songplugger. Maybe even the same songplugger who once introduced a cowboy to a girl. Maybe? I don't know. Play piano down at the Club Paris, too. The Club... Oh, all begins to tie together, doesn't it? My friend, we're going to pull up our chairs for a nice long chop. Be careful, don't stub your toe. What? Chairs are all nailed down. Keeps the maids from moving them around. Keeps them in. Look, Looney, Daphne Crockett was being watched from here and I doubt if Curly did it. She was shot out from here, but he didn't do it. Did it, do it, did it. My name's Siva, Lieutenant, not Looney. Siva. Dick Siva. Did I dick, they call me. Did I? And Curly was murdered by a dick. Well, brother, if you're crazy enough, 12 minutes. Wait a minute, Lieutenant, wait a minute. Chairs nailed down, that stick you carry. You haven't even noticed the body yet. You haven't been watching, Daphne. Have you, dead eye? Of course not. I couldn't. I'm blind. George, if I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times. Don't jump at conclusions. You tell me how a poor old blind guy goes around filling people full of lead. It just can't happen. Unless maybe he uses seeing eye bullets. Hey, you know that's all right. And for that matter, so is this. Say, before the shooting starts again, I think we should pause briefly for story identification, don't you? It seems that a self-styled cowboy, named Rape Disborough, who got himself fired from monogram because he could only ride side-saddle, hired Valentine to keep his beady brown eye on a doll named Daphne. He figures that only one eye will be necessary, as he will have to keep the other one peeled for a guy named Curly, a black-haired character who is very repulsive. On further investigation, Daphne turns out to be an up-to-date anti-Oakley who's been knocking him dead at the club Paris with her fur-lined six-shooter. However, some patron who doesn't like the cover charge takes it out on Daphne and starts shooting back. Only he misses and plugs Curly. Meantime, George has been sleeping it off in Dead Eye Dick's apartment, a song-plugger around town, as he has become very drowsy from a hit on the head. George immediately points the finger at Dead Eye. Only Dead Eye is blind and can't point back. Still, George figures that if he can plug songs, he can also plug people. However, this sets well with nobody, so he goes back to see Rape Disbrough, who is no help either, because all he can say is, Gosh, Mr. Valentine, it's all I can say. Gosh. Well, you should try harder, Mr. Disbrough. Usually, there's just good men, the bad men. I'm the little school teacher in between, I know. Well, this isn't the plot of a Western. But why you really wanted us to meet Daphne, you didn't say. So suppose you start saying Buster right now. Well, I told you she was in distress. Are you being blackmailed, cowboy? Uh-uh. That was Curly's business, you know. And I saw a little black bag once blackmailed, I said. No. No, no, not me. Not you. Well, I'm always cautious about those things, but, well, Daphne, she has another suitor who hides me as Mr. Michael J. Martin. Martin? Yeah, one of those millionaire fellows that this is strictly confidential, you understand. And you figure Martin's a better sucker than you are, huh? Oh, well, he is married man. I've never taken that step. Huh. And you really hired us to look into Daphne, because you were afraid she was going to knock you over, too. Oh, no, no, Mr. Valentine. You totally misrepresent me. Oh, I mean, nothing of the kind. The little lady is always innocent. Okay, Disbrough, when you decide to tell me the truth, I am. I'm just a bystander who... Or better yet, let the police know. This is still a murder case, Rafe. And they tell me cowboys are pretty good shots. You what? Well, I'm just a singing cowboy. That's the last straw. No, I'm not proficient, except with a guitar. No, I don't shoot guns when my fans wouldn't like it. Well, listen, I'll show you. Come on, Angel, let's get out of here. Here we are, George. Pressing room number four, three, two... Sure, sure, she's number one with a star on the door. Just a moment, please. I'm very sorry, but no one's allowed inside. Well, I'm sorry, too, Shorty, but we want to... Miss Cronkett isn't receiving any calls this evening. She hopes you understand. Well, now that's real thoughtful of it. Just step to one side. If you needn't raise your voice, but if I haven't made myself clear... Oh, George, just pick him up inside. And I really don't feel like arguing about it. Shorty, get out of the way. Oh, hello, Mr. Valentine. Goodbye. Oh, no, you don't. Stand still, sister. Well, I really got nothing to say. Come on, Mike. Okay, get out of my way. Shorty, wait a minute, you... Please don't be difficult, Mr. Valentine. Mac, Fred, Joe... Slow down, I said, would you... Hey, come on, George. Let go, let go. Goodbye, Mr. Valentine. Would you... All right, Mac, Fred, Joe, she's gone. You let go. Sure, don't get sore. Let me brush your coat. The boys, huh? Stage hands, that's all. Don't want to see you getting in trouble. Buster, I'm not the one who's going to be in trouble. Oh, yes, you are. Little guy's important. Tough, too. The what? Little guy went with it. Michael J. Martin. You mean that little shrimp was Martin? Lucky we saved you, huh? Lion hunter, you know. Toughest little guy in the world. Best marksman, too. No, Miss Crockett isn't here. Of course she's not here. Don't expect her to show up. I even had one of our own men tailing her, and Martin shook him off, too. All right, all right, so she's not here. You said that, Lieutenant. Little school heat you tied caught in the middle. Martin's not much to look at, only five feet tall. Two million bucks you could look at. Maybe blackmail does make sense. I told you that a long time ago. Nothing else means sense. Why did Curly come out here? Why did he get killed? Oh, stop asking questions. All right, you want an answer? Curly was Daphne's husband. What? She's in the record. He used to be married. Sure. Now she was afraid of him. Sure. Does it tie together a cowboy, land hunter, anti-Oakley? Does it tell which one of those marksmen put a bullet through a man's heart with one shot? Let's not leave out save her. All right, so he's tied in. He's a friend of Curly's, too. But let me tell you something. When we were at the Club Paris, who was playing the piano? Huh? Well, it was... Oh, George, it wasn't Dixie. See what I mean? He's missing, too. And you know, Lieutenant? A blind guy who's a heel could get into trouble easily. Now his heart's beating. Now he's just unconscious, I think. Come on, seeker. Come on, snap out of it now. His door's still open. Somebody must have slugged him when he was running out before he could get away. Oh, daddy beat me. My head. Oh, he's okay. Take a look inside. That's what I'm doing. It's quite a mess. He's been wrapped, Sam. All the drawers, only thing's still in place are the furniture. Michael J. Martin. Dead. Would you look at that. Another one shot victim. Sharpshootin'. Even about the same distance. Yeah. Got Martin a little higher up, though. Yeah, look here. Hit him right the neck. He's as dead as curly, isn't he? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm just... What is it, George? The window. Lights just went on there. Opposite. What? Yeah. Yeah, it's all they did. The roof garden? A little nail that's finally come back home, huh? And, Lieutenant, if you work a process of elimination... Come on, let's get over there. I'll stay here. What, George? Go on, go on. I'll take care of C.V. I'll take you five minutes to make it from building to building anyway. All right. We'll keep our eyes open. But you watch from here. Don't worry. I've been wrong before. I'm not going to be wrong this time. Oh, Daddy, what a head. What's happening? What's happening, Mr. Valentine? Yeah. Grant, I'll give you a hand. Thanks. That's my chair. I have a poker table. Okay, careful now. There she is. Sit down yourself, Valentine. It's good for the rocks in your head. From the chair opposite me, the wing chair there, you can see out the window. Yeah, yeah, thanks. Already there, aren't you? Tell by your voice. What you doing now? Nothing. Taking off a coat. Take off your coat. Take off your hat. Cigarette? Got some right here at the table. No, thanks. Go on into the kitchen now. I bet you can't cook. You've never seen her, huh? Nope. Blind since I was 21. Last a minute of stick-up, I got messed up in. Stick-up? Nice guy. I've been around. But I'm straight now. She's back on the roof now. Why do you see a straight seeker when you were all mixed up with Curly? I didn't know he'd taken a hop from prison. He was up here all the time watching his wife, wasn't he? Sure. It's a cinch I wasn't. You were in on the blackmail with Curly too, weren't you? Somebody must have tipped him off that there was a good touch going that Martin here was a pushover. All right, so what? What have I got to lose? Conspiracy to blackmail, but everybody's dead. You're right, we can't prove it. I've been around. You're not dead. What's that? Well, she's just practicing, that's all. Funny, isn't it? Everybody's a marksman. You know, poor Martin there has a gun in his pocket too, but he was outdrawn just like Curly. That cowboy can shoot too, Mr. Valentine. I don't believe that stuff he says to you. No, no. I'm not talking about murder anyway. I was thinking about when Daphne over there was practicing early and somebody took a pot shot and missed. What about it? Well, that couldn't have been a marksman, could it? So it must have been somebody who just stuck a gun out the window and shot to attract attention. You've been around too, haven't you? You knew somebody'd come running over like I did and find Curly and lock him up. He was a fugitive. Good way to get rid of a partner, a seaver. Well, she's going to work on the clay pigeons now. Good shot. Never mind her. Then what happened? Well, it didn't work, obviously. Curly knocked me out instead. So when you ducked back into the room to pick up the dough in the black bag, you found Curly alive and plenty suspicious. So you had to kill him, I guess. Oh, is that it? Now, how could a blind man do that? Then maybe later, Michael J. Martin figured out who'd been in on the black mail and came up for a little talk. So you had to kill him. Well, I guess you can't be blamed. Lots of people think I'm not really blind, but I am, see? Look, look at the match in front of my eye. Never mind. Skip it. It's because you are blind that I know you killed both of them. Who else but a blind man would shoot two men at the same height? A big man in the heart and a five-footer like Martin in the neck. You're crazy, Mr. Valentine. I'm blind. I don't even know where people are. You can tell by the sound of a voice, can't you? But not close enough to... Tell what chair they're sitting in. The chair that's always in the same place because it's nailed down. Well, come on, now tell me the rest, Buster. What happens? Yeah. You'd like to know how it works, wouldn't you? You'd like to know which chair. Well, I'm not going to tell you. I'll show you. It's the chair you're sitting in. Ain't I an old meanie, though? You know, a situation like this could set Cliff hanging back ten years. Which might be a good idea. But that matters, so is this. Now let's see how the little game of blind man's bluff is turning out. It can't be good for George because old dead eye is getting his jollies over something. Simple, isn't it? The blind man can fool them all. A little heavy on the downbeat, maybe. It won't look like a marksman this time. But the coroner won't care. I'll just move him out of the chair and... Valentine. Valentine, where are you? Where are you? Just where I was, Siever. Standing by the side of this chair. Thank you, Mr. Valentine. I can't tell you how grateful I am for apprehending that barman. He was a little twisted, I guess. George, we've got to be going. Wait a minute. I asked you out here to explain about her. She's really nice. She was afraid of her husband. She was afraid of what he might be up to. She mixed up much with that rich man, Mr. Martin. Oh, we know Rafe. You told us. She's a schoolteacher type. I hope you'll be very happy. Oh, I'm sure we will, Mr. Valentine. Well, this is the last real angel. So look out for the characters while we mount up and ride off into the sunset, leaving the little ranch house behind. Well, George, at this point, doesn't the hero usually kiss the girl? Yeah. He always kisses the horse. Oh. You know, after a crack like that, I'm not going to even try and defend that boy anymore. I'm just going to say that Robert Bailey played George Valentine with the story by David Victor and Jackson Gillis. Now, this is yours truly inviting you to another visit with Valentine, when you will again hear what happens when you let George do it.