 The F.W. Fitch Company presents Dick Powell as Private Investigator Richard Rogue in Rogue's Gallery. Wild for wild, let a song be your style, use Fitch, a shampoo. Don't despair, use your head, save your hair, use Fitch, a shampoo. The F.W. Fitch Company makers of Fitch's saponified coconut oil shampoo and Fitch's shaving creams presents Dick Powell as Private Investigator Richard Rogue in Rogue's Gallery. Rogue speaking, do you ever long for the bracing feel of the freezing wind on your face? Hard-packed snow under your skis? And the beauty of the stately pine laboring to support the dust-dry snow on its limb? Does your heart cry out for the tingle of the air as it squishes by your hurting frame on a toboggan course? It doesn't? Well, neither does mine. I can't imagine what throwback impulse to a pioneering ancestor may be decided to take that vacation at a winter lodge in the mountains, but, uh, nevertheless, I, uh, I did. I laughed with snow down my neck, cheered and clapped my frozen hands when some idiot risked his neck. Did all of the things required of a guest? But I didn't like it. No, I didn't. Until I saw this lovely, lovely view. She was a slow-eyed Latin. She was voluptuous, and she was, uh, at the snack bar. I just happened to sit down on the stool next to her. Give me a cup of coffee, will you, Harry, and not too much sugar? Yes, sir. I'd like another coffee, please, Harry. Yes, ma'am. It helps to throw you out, doesn't it? Yes, it does. I saw you on the ski course this afternoon. Oh, is that why you're laughing? You came flying through the air very gracefully, landed right by me, and threw snow all over me. Well, I'm, uh, I'm sorry. I didn't do it on purpose, you know. I guess I'd better take some more lessons. Yes, I know it's impolite of me to laugh at you. Oh, that's, that's, that's okay. That's okay. If I'm going to be laughed at, I certainly want it to be you who does the laughing. You may come out and laugh at me in the morning. I'm going to take my first ski jump, and I know what's going to happen. I'll be there. One with sugar, one without. Oh, thanks, Harry. Oh, uh, Harry. Yes, sir? Would you mind introducing me to this lovely lady? Mr. Rogue, this lovely lady is Juanita Mansfield. Mr. Rogue, are you Richard Rogue, the investigator? That's right, the, uh, celebrated investigator. I'm very happy to know you. Thank you. Anybody ever tell you that, uh, your eyes are as beautiful as dark pool fire? But the God of love for men is called Jim. Oh, my dear, my dear, you have the cutest nose in the world. Mmm, my husband. He tells me those things every day. Your husband? Mmm, you'll have to meet him. I'd love to. No, I'm mad about him. Oh, good. Harry, there's too much sugar in this coffee. Sorry, I'll give you another cup. There was too much sugar in my coffee and too much sweetness in the marital situation of the lovely Juanita. There I was, all puckered up for one of those highly romantic resort friendships I'm always reading about. And there wasn't a girl in the place that abandoned would dance with, except Juanita. When I got up to leave, I noticed that Juanita had left her compact there on the bar. I picked it up, decided to return it to her in the dining room. I spotted her the minute I walked in. She was lovely in a white evening dress, which signaled all of the curves and soft shoulders. And her husband was a very big guy, ruggedly handsome, black wavy hair and viking blue eyes. He was as British as St. George of the Dragon, neither of which would have impressed him. He looked vaguely familiar. I walked over to the table. Oh, hello, Mr. Rose. Hello, Mrs. Mansfield. I've been looking for you. You have? This is my husband, Mr. Rove. Good evening, Mr. Rove. How do you do, Mr. Mansfield? Well, Juanita, here's your compact. You left it on the bar this afternoon. Oh, thank you. I've been looking all over for it. Well, I come in very handy sometimes. Oh, by the way, haven't we met before, Mr. Mansfield? I'm sure we haven't. It's funny, I think we have. You know, I never forget a face. You from Los Angeles? Pasadena. I am anyway. David's from England. Well, I want to thank you for returning Juanita's compact, Mr. Rove. It was a present from me. I was so worried. And now we must finish our dinner, darling. We're paying bridge in half an hour. Oh, all right, David. Well, good night, and good night, Mr. Mansfield. You know, I wish I could remember where it was we met before. I'm sure you're mistaken, Mr. Rove. We've never met. My massive intellect was grinding exceeding fine as I returned to my table. My subconscious was flashing a message about David Mansfield. It had been a fear in his pretty blue eyes when he saw me approaching him. I'd known him before, someplace. And his name wasn't David Mansfield. The knowledge that the guy was a phony chased itself around in my mind without ever catching up with the answer. All through dinner and through a few fast rounds with the slot machines. I have a good memory for faces, and he had a good face to remember, but I couldn't make connections. After losing a bum decision, favoring the one-arm bandits, I went to my cabin, opened the door. Oh, I was trumped in clubs. Right on the back of my ear. I took an on-the-spot lesson in astronomy. Through the pink haze, I noticed that one of the stars in my orbit was beckoning to me. I looked closely. It was Juanita. I followed her timelessly. Until I was so tired, I couldn't keep up the speed. Then I fell a million lifetimes into peaceful oblivion. When I opened my eyes, I was on cloud eight, my home away from home. There was an economy-sized female bending over me. Gosh, Mr. Kew, you were going to stop here. Where's you, Gore? And who are you? I'm you, Gore's girlfriend. It's going to see about a marriage license. A marriage license? What's that midget up to? He can't get married without my consent. Oh, Mr. To love? What does that spook know about love? Oh, no, let me rest up here. Give you consent! Never. Hey, hey, stop pushing. You condensed minx. Cut it out! Cut it out! A-two, see your eyes open. Oh, well, hey. Hey, who are you anyway? Where am I? One question at a time. You're in my cabin and you can call me Doc. That's as good a name as any. No, no, no, no. Try to sit up. You've been pretty close to death, you know? What's the matter with my shoulder? You have a nice clean wound through it. You look like a 32 or 38 revolver wound from a distance of maybe 25 feet. I can't tell you that. Just lie still. You have plenty of time to recover and ask questions. How long have I been here? Quite a spell. Let's see. Today is Wednesday... No, no, today is Thursday. I picked you up at the bottom of that canyon on Tuesday. You've been lying there unconscious, at least overnight. Bottom of a canyon? How'd I get there? You're asking me a lot of questions I can't answer, Mr. Rugg. From the looks of your head, my opinion is that somebody knocked you out through your over-inspiration point when your fall was broken by the underbrush, shot you. You don't know who it was? Oh, I've got a good idea. Yeah, I'm beginning to remember now. Tell me, where's the inspiration point from Red Feather Lodge? It's about 10 miles back into the mountains. Oh, I guess I was supposed to be killed, huh? That's just what you would have been if you hadn't managed to fall near one of my trap lines. You know, Doc, you don't talk much like a trapper. That's possible. However, I am a trapper. I like being a trapper. I'm also a prospector because I like being a prospector. No, I'll probably never find any gold and I'll probably never be a very good trapper. But I'm living the way I want to live and I'll bet that's more than you can say, Mr. Rugg. I like the way I live. You're a private investigator and I've been through your credentials. You live on violence and terror and fear and crime and it's a sudden death. You like that? Well, it's exciting. That's to cover up the fact that you're bored to death with your life, Rugg. There's only one way to live. That's my way. Alone. Oh, you saved my life then, didn't you, Doc? Yes, if I hadn't found you and brought you here and treated you you would have frozen to death out there if you hadn't died of your wounds. Yes, I saved your life, but you don't owe me anything for that. You'd probably be better off dead. Most people would. Well, that's a great philosophy. How did you arrive at that? I lived like you do once. As a matter of fact, I lived like you do for many years. I was a physician, which is a very fortunate thing for you. I couldn't stand the people, all of them striving to be smarter, more successful, more ruthless than their immediate friends. All of them scheming and plotting and lying and cheating to pile up money, which they never live to enjoy because they're burned out by the time they're 50. You know, you sound a little antisocial, Doc, but if you don't mind, I'm hungry. Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry, Mr. Rogue, it's been so long since I've had anybody to talk with. I've been chattering like a magpie. Oh, no, no, no, it's been very interesting, but I'm broth. Yes, I have some broth for you, strengthening. Well, have you built up to fine shape by the time you're able to leave here, Mr. Rogue? Oh, but look, Doc, I've got to get out of here right away. Oh, no, no, no, I'm afraid not, Rogue. It's been snowing for five days. We're snowed in here. Snowed in? It'll be weeks before I can get you out of here, Mr. Rogue. We'll continue our story in just a moment. First, men, these warm spring days are probably finding you out on the golf course, in the ball diamond or the tennis court. Remember, these active sports often cause perspiration and unpleasant scalp odors to cling to the hair, odors that a hasty shower in the clubhouse won't remove. To do a quick yet thorough job, try Fitch's saponified coconut oil shampoo. It forms lots of lather instantly to cleanse away dust, dirt, perspiration, and unpleasant scalp odors from your hair. The lather rinses out quickly and easily, too, so your shampoo is done in a jiffy. And men, Fitch's saponified coconut oil shampoo is made from pure natural oils. You can use it as often as you like, and it won't leave your hair dry or unruly, but always well groomed, fresh and clean. Fitch's saponified coconut oil shampoo is available at drug and toilet goods counters, or you can have a professional application at your barbershop. Now back to Dick Powell, as private investigator Richard Rogue in Rogue's gallery. I couldn't figure out whether my benefactor, Doc, was as daffy as a red hearse or as wise as a barn full of owls, but he was a talker, and he was a good doctor. In two weeks, I was as full of health as a Boy Scout camp and as full of conversation as a book of plays. Doc shoveled his way out of his shack, mounted me on snowshoes, and helped me over the 20 miles that was as glistening quiet as the top of a wedding cake. When we came inside of the Red Feather Lodge, Doc said goodbye. I managed to swagger into the lobby of the hotel. I was freshly shaved, and Doc had cleaned the blood from my shirt and jacket and mended them. In fact, I looked quite presentable. The clerk uncovered his teeth in professional welcome as I walked up to the desk. Well, well, Mr. Rogue, glad to have you back. I should think you would be. Wasn't anybody worried about me? Yes, I left rather suddenly, didn't I? Well, yes, but we know people in your business get called away. Called away? Yes, I took the call myself. What's the matter, Mr. Rogue? Why are you looking at me that way? Surely you received your baggage at your office. Look, there seems to be something about it in my memory. Just what happened? Why, you, you called. You told us you'd send a check to cover your bill and asked us to please send your luggage to your office in Los Angeles as soon as the check arrived. We did just that. Only it wasn't a check you sent. It was a money order. Oh, oh, oh, I see. Yeah, I remember it all now. Well, by the way, is David Mansfield still here? Oh, no, no. Mr. and Mrs. Mansfield checked out. Must have been about three weeks ago. Any forwarding address? Oh, yes, I'll get it for you in just a moment, Mr. Rogue. He gave me the forwarding address. It was in South Pasadena. I copied it in my little black book and took the hotel bus into town where I caught a train for Los Angeles. The wheels in my head clicked it out with the wheels on the train in a rhythm that soon lulled me to sleep in spite of my determination to stay awake and figure my next move. The porter awakened me when we pulled into Los Angeles and I gathered myself for a taxi trip to my apartment. I grabbed the newspaper on my way to the cab to check up on what the world had been doing without me. And the first headline to catch my eye was a story about the murder of a Dorothy Granday, a model I knew slightly. She'd been stabbed to death in her apartment. The phone was ringing when I got to my apartment. Rogue speaking. Hello, Richard. This is Eve Fulton. Oh, well. Oh, Eve, what goes? Dottie. Dottie Granday, you remember her? Yes, sure. She's been murdered. Well, I know that. I just saw it in the paper. She and I were living together at the Magnolia Arms. Police are here. Please come over. Well, look, Eve, I just got into town. Hey, Richard, I'll pay you. Oh, yeah, sure. No, all right. I'll be right over. I went over because I'd always liked Eve and because I don't approve of the beautiful girls being murdered and because I knew Detective Lieutenant Urban of Homicide would be there. I wanted to see Urban. I did. When I opened the door, he was waiting for me. Well, Rogue, this time we found the body. How have you been? I was out of town. Hello, Eve. Hello, Richard. You know the murdered girl? No, well, yes. It's frightening. Who would have wanted to kill her? How do I know? You'll just give me a few minutes. I might be able to tell you. How well did you know her? Why, Inspector, you don't think that I... Ask him to go away, Richard. I want to talk with you alone. If you have anything to say, young lady, you'd better say it to the police. I'm representing this girl, Urban. What does she need representation for? She wasn't under suspicion. You mean she is now? If she didn't do it, why would she want you to represent her? Maybe she wants the guilty man caught. You ever think of that? You'd better come down to headquarters and see me after a while, Rogie. Well, I intended to do that anyway. I got a little something I want to talk to you about. Good. I'll be seeing you then. And you, young lady, don't be making any plans for leaving town, understand? All right. I'm not going any place. In about an hour, Rogie. Yeah, it's your office, huh? Oh, I'm so glad he's gone. Oh, Richard, hold me. No, no, no, no, no, no, Eve. Who did it? I don't know, Richard. Honestly, I don't. Oh, I'm so glad you came right over. I needed you. What's Dorothy been up to lately that might get her killed? I don't know, but she's been up to something. You know how she was, closed mouth and kind of mercenary. Yeah, I remember. Go away with it, Eve. We got a murder on our hands. Look, tell me, where's Dorothy been mixed up in? Well, she's been spending a lot of money lately. I mean, things like main coats. She's always wanted one. She got one about three weeks ago and all kinds of expensive things. Well, you think she's been putting a bite on somebody? I don't know what to think, Richard. She and I had an awful fight a couple of nights ago. The police found out about it from the neighbors, and I'm afraid they're going to think I killed her. I couldn't kill anybody. Okay, okay. If you didn't do it, I'm going to have to find out who did. Got any money? Yes, I can pay you, Richard. Give me $200 and I'll let you know when you owe me more. Oh, all right. I'll take the $200 now. In the meantime, I'd like to take a look around the joint. Well, I'll get it for you if you really want it. I do. Who has, uh... Who's Dorothy been romancing lately? Oh, she's been playing the field. There was one Argentine fellow that she was with a lot, and more than any of the others, I guess, but he hasn't been with her much lately. He decided he liked me better. Oh, is that what you and Dorothy fought about? Well, yes. Hmm. What was this Latin type's name? Eduardo Lopez. He's a millionaire. Oh, hey. Hey, come here. What's this? Oh, oh, those wedding pictures. Yeah, who's the big blonde groom? Well, that's Dottie's husband. They hadn't lived together for years. Oh, they were still married? Yeah, she was always talking about getting a divorce, but she never did. You met him, Richard. Remember a couple of years ago? Before you got mad at me. He was with Dottie one night when you came up after me. He played hearts. Remember? Oh, yeah, yeah, I remember, yeah. I got the $200. Yeah, yeah, here it is. You can't afford any more, Richard. You'll represent me for the $200, won't you? Oh, sure, sure, sure. I'm a very big-hearted guy. I won't be needing any more money from you, honey. On account of I'm just about to solve a murder. We'll return to our story in just a moment. First, a word to the ladies. You know how spring winds stir up dust and dirt and can cause perspiration to cling to the hair. This combination can imperil the daintiness and freshness of your hair. Regular use of Fitch's saponified coconut oil shampoo will always keep your hair sweet-smelling and clean. Fitch's saponified shampoo is made from mild coconut and pure vegetable oils. It makes mountains of fluffy, fragrant lather, lather that floats away the dust, oily film, and perspiration from your hair. Then when you rinse, a patented rinsing agent contained right in the shampoo comes to your aid. This rinsing agent works with the plain rinse water to ensure sparkling clean hair undimmed by a dull, soapy film. Your hair is left radiantly lustrous and delicately fragrant. Guard the charm and beauty of your hair by using Fitch's saponified coconut oil shampoo regularly. Fitch is spelled F-I-T-C-H. Now back to Dick Powell as private investigator Richard Rogue in Rogue's gallery. I left Eve Fulton's apartment dropped by homicide headquarters for a chat with Urban, but he wasn't there. So I left him a note and went out to the Mansfield address in South Pasadena. It was a beautiful home, set back in a kind of park. There was a circular driveway up to the front door, but I parked out on the street. I wanted time to work up plenty of hate before I hit that front door. Mrs. Mansfield answered the door herself. What? What? Mr. Rogue. Oh, surprise to see me, huh? I want to talk with you and your husband. You can't come in here. No, you're a punk fortune teller, Juanita. Look out, here I come. Where is that pretty husband of yours? He isn't home. Please don't point that gun at me. Where is he? I don't know. He's out. I don't know when he'll come back. No kitten. Well, I'll just wait if you don't mind, or if you do. I want to have a talk with him. Just walk right in here, Mr. Rogue. Hmm? Come on. I won't botch the job this time. Drop your gun. You know, you're a difficult man to get rid of, Mr. Rogue. Huh? Oh, I suppose you know Juanita. Your husband tried to kill me. You're back of a red feather lodge. Yes, he told me just a few days ago. He told me you were dead. He was afraid you'd come between us. You knew something. Yeah, I'm afraid I'm quite a disappointment to him. As a matter of fact, you're both. Really, Mr. Rogue, I'm quite surprised to see you. How on earth did you ever get back here? I'm certain that you were done in before I left you up there. Well, it's a long story, Mansfield. I wouldn't interest you. I want to talk to you about something else. Yes. Yes. You know, I, uh... I finally remembered where it was I met you, David. Indeed. Yes. You were married at the time to a girl named Dorothy Granday, but not working at it. I was dating a roommate, E. Fulton. We played hearts together, and you gave me the queen of spades three times, and I've hated you ever since. I know of that early, foolish marriage of David's, Mr. Rogue. Which one had he killed her? What makes you think I, though, all this did? She was blackmailing you, wasn't she? You were married to Juanita, wasn't legal. You'd never been divorced from Dorothy Granday. Dorothy found out about your fortune in marriage, and she was putting a bite on you for money blackmailing you. She milked you for plenty, and finally you had to kill her, didn't you? I didn't kill her. Oh, you know, I can get an indictment against you in 20 minutes with your record and the facts in the case. You're going to die of cyanide poisoning, Mansfield. I'm going to arrange it. I didn't kill her. I didn't. I killed her, David. Juanita, you don't know what you're saying. I know very well what I'm saying, darling. I followed her home to her apartment. I killed her. We promised each other nothing could ever come between us. I killed her for us. Now we're free. You're not quite free of me, though, Juanita. That's a matter of our convenience, however, Mr. Rogue. Yeah, I suppose that's right. You've got the gun. You tried to kill him once, David, to save our happiness now. Yes, dear. But first, I'm interested, Mr. Rogue, in just how you learned all you know about us. I wouldn't want you to die uninformed, David. I found a wedding picture of you and Dorothy in her desk at the scene of the murder. You were a blonde then. That was before you dyed your hair. You were without mustache, and you were a lot fatter, but I never forget a face, Mansfield. The minute I saw that picture, I knew why you'd been so frightened when I met you at the Red Feather Lodge. That's unfortunate. Let's go for a little ride in your car, shall we, Mr. Rogue? Uh-huh. Of course. Oh, well, you love each other very much, you, too, don't you? Very much, Mr. Rogue. I think it would be awfully nice if you could have a double execution. It's going to be a pleasure to finish you, Rogue. Come on. Oh, don't be a patsy Mansfield. This dame's a murderer. She's gonna pay for it. Shut up! And if you take a shot at me, you're gonna pay with her. You're inside the law now. Don't listen to him, David. Don't come any closer, Rogue. You want to take that walk with her? To that little green door? Into that glassed-in room of the green chair and the gas that makes you choke and die? I haven't killed anybody. Give me the gun, Mansfield. I haven't killed anybody, Rogue. No, give it to me. I'll kill him. David! A shot at her. What need you? Yeah. Come here, pretty boy. Broke my hand. Well, that was the end of the case. David Mansfield tried to kill me in the mountains because he thought I might remember him and ruin his marriage with Juanita's bankroll. Instead of staying dead, I came back and killed two birds with one stone, in a matter of speaking. I caught a murderous. Juanita lived for her execution, and David won't be out of the pen in time to vote for the 40th president. And oh, by the way, I saw my hermit friend, Doc, a couple of weeks ago. He's living at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Yeah. In a suite of five rooms. Found gold up in them Thar Hills and gave up hermiting. He's getting married next week to a lovely widow with five children. Oh, there's nothing like living alone and liking it. You know what I mean? This is Dick Powell again, ladies and gentlemen. Hope you enjoyed our story tonight. Ray Buffham wrote it. Leth Stevens, composed and conducted the music and D. Engelbach produced and directed. Be with us again next week. Well, you, we have a story for you about a birthday party, a locked penthouse and a homicide. We call it the impossible murder. Thanks for listening. Now here's Jim Doyle. Be sure to tune in next week. Same time, same station. When you will again hear Dick Powell as private investigator Richard Rogue in Rogue's gallery. Laugh a while. Let a song be your style. Use Fitch Shampoo. After in between Fitch Shampoo, you can keep your hair shining and manageable by using a few drops of Fitch's ideal hair tonic every day. Fitch's ideal hair tonic is not sticky or greasy. Yet it gives your hair that well-groomed look.