 My name's Regan. I get ten a day and expenses from a detective bureau run by a guy named Anthony J. Lyon. They call me the Lyon's Eye. With Jack Webb as Jeff Regan, the Lyon's Eye stand by for hard-boiled action and mystery and thrilling adventure. In tonight's story of the man who fought back. There's a street crammed in between Wilton and Van S. in Hollywood. It's called Taft Avenue. A couple of blocks long. I only got there because the city planners had a few tons of cement left over from the Coliseum. On the corner there's a gray building poking its way up through a crack in the pavement. That's where I live. Apartment K. Two rooms with a connecting door to a broom closet. Oh, the place isn't much. A couple of chairs, a bed that comes out of the wall. And a mattress that could pass itself off as a relief map of the high sierras. Well, that's where I was the other night around eleven trying to catch some sleep. That's when my phone began making an impression. Turned out to be the Lyon. I'm glad I found you home. What's the matter? Did you lose your voice? Just a precaution. I got a hold of a good thing and I don't want to lose it by indiscreet talk. Well, then write me a letter. We've just been hired. You start tonight. It'll keep till morning. Her name's Alice Lafarge. She'll meet you in a bar called The Princess across the street from Pershing Square. Get going. What's your trouble? She'll tell you all about it when you get there. Can't you tell me? I haven't got the title of myself if I didn't have a big deal on it. flirting with widows in Pasadena, huh? So I got a social engagement. It helps our business. Pays to be seen in high society. And besides, the liquor's good. You just get over to see the Lafarge, Dave. And give me a ring in the morning and let me know how you make out. All right, lover. Hey, Regan. What should I take to my Pasadena girlfriend? Flowers or candy? You better take both. You're going to need all the help you can get. I threw on some clothes and I headed for town. My car found a parking lot off Ollo, and I cut through Pershing Square to make it over to Hill. It was after midnight. A sailor was chasing a bow-legged marine over the grass. He brought him down on about the 40-yard line. The Princess Bar showed up near the corner of 6th, a little place holding up six stories of granite. I went inside. A moustache was trying real hard on a piano. 200 pounds of bartender was moving a wet rag over the bar in slow motion. A girl was sitting on the far stool in a black purse with initials ALF, Alice Lafarge. If you look real hard, you can find her eyes I gave up on her lips. I lowered myself onto the stool next to her. She looked tired, like a chorus girl on a Sunday morning. Here. I'm Regan, international detective. How do I know? You will when you get the bill. You're late, Mr. Regan. Well, I didn't pick up any traffic tickets if that's what you wanted. Well, it doesn't matter. We have a few minutes yet. What are we waiting for? 12.30. Can I buy you a drink, Mr. Regan? You're calling it. Bartender. There won't let me miss. I'm not drinking, sir, the gentleman. Gotch. Bourbon and water. What a tasty scotch, buddy. Bourbon. She's trying. I get a commission on the scotch. All right, lady, now let's have it. You live far from here, Mr. Regan? About 20 minutes. You better run home and throw a change of clothes into a suitcase. Out of town job? No, but you'll need a change. Bring along a deck of cards and a thick book. Anything else? Call off any dates you may have. You're gonna be out of circulation for the weekend. Here's an address. It's a hotel on North Cigarilla. Get there as soon as you can. You still haven't said anything. What's the job? You'll find out when you get there. I'll get tired of waiting. Come on, lady, let's open it up. Hey, buddy, scotch. Are you leaving us, miss? Next one's free. Thanks anyway. I'll beat it you and take that scotch with you. Okay. I'll get myself. I still get the commission. All right, now come on, sis. Let's have the rest of it. I'm sorry, Mr. Regan. That's all I can tell you now. Be at that address as soon as you can. As she slid off the stool and moved for the front door, I caught a view of her in the mirror. There was nothing there to make a guy want an encore. Sandy hair, short, thin body that you could have slipped into a mailbox. Well, she threw the door shut behind her. A couple of seconds ticked by, and I moved out after her. I made the street just in time to see her climb into a cab and start up sixth. That's when I spotted the Red Austin with an Illinois license. It was a Glenblad sleeve sticking out of the left side, and that's all I got of the driver, except that he was doing a real bad tag job on the Lafarge girl. The North Figaroa dress Alice Lafarge gave me turned out to be the Gladstone Hotel. A two-layer pile of wood so old that the termites were getting indigestion. A short guy with a shiny head was catching up on his reading in the lobby. He put down the seat catalog long enough to tell me that apartment 3B was upstairs in the back. A couple of knocks on the door, and Alice let me in. Sitting in the corner was a bush of gray hair and a white face. Turned out to be a man with a worried look like an alligator in a handbag factory. Shut the door, Alice. Yes, Dad. Thanks for coming, Regan. I'll let you know later if you're welcome. Take these things, Alice. No, I'm going to hang on to them for a while. Suit yourself, but your coat will get heavy in a few hours. What says I'm going to stay that long? Me? That's what you're hired for. What else? Well, that's the time to get to that. Let's get to know each other first. You got a name? I'm Bill Defarge. Sort of fancy, but I like it. Give me some more. Not much more. Just an old choker with nothing left but a few years and a regular done. Mm-hmm. You know, Regan, this isn't my real address. I just moved here. Yeah, the rent's low. That's not it. Bill Defarge can handle more. All right, you can skip the bank statement, Mr. Will you please try to be civil, Mr. Regan? That's not what you hired me for. It's okay, Alice. Can't say I blame him. All right, then. Let's throw it in gear, huh? Not much to your job, Regan. Just spend a weekend with me. I've had better offers. Yeah, I did too in my time. Well, it's the easy part of it. You got something hard? You stay awake the next 48 hours and keep looking at me. Who's after you? Nobody. I figure different. You could be wrong. Shades down, lights out, red Austin on a tag job. What do you mean? Plaid suit moved out after you when you left the princess. You sure he was following Alice? Like you said, I could be wrong. Get one thing straight, Regan. I never hire anybody to protect me. Bill Defarge handles things like that himself. Your hair is a witness. What for? Just in case somebody wants some testifying as to how I spent this weekend. All right, now throw off your coat. Let's play a little cards. Why not? Alice's open the window. It's getting a little hard in here. All right, Dad. Good girl. Gin, Mummy. You're dealing. Now, how do you want to play? Two bits if you... The shots came flying in from the alley. It didn't stop until they caught Alice in the bars. They blew her back into the room and she did a full turn like a ballet dancer showing off. By the time her father and I got to her, it was all over. The old man straightened up and began mumbling something about Red Austin. I stepped for the phone. I put in a call to Sanducci at Homicide. He took down the story and promised to send out some company. And I cradled the phone. That's when I knew I was alone with a girl. Old man LaFarge had hot-footed it out of the building like a super chief on a holiday weekend. Well, the boys from Homicide showed in a couple of minutes and they had a few questions. I gave them what I had and Sanducci tabled the rest until the next day, so I went home to relax. You know, the lion could have made a good detective. He always finds me. Regan, I'm not paying you to sit at home. Get your coat on and explain this. What? This newspaper story. There's a big lion here about LaFarge's name getting killed. Now, I know you wouldn't allow that to happen to one of our clients. It was real hard, but I managed. I give you a simple little job and you turn it into a murder. You get in a commission from Forest Lawn. You got your hands full, too. What do you mean? Sanducci will be visiting you with a pocket full of questions. I don't know nothing about her children. I was out in Pasadena all night playing a guitar and I got a sore finger to prove it. Now, you listen to me, big shot. You better start sniffing around and turn up a red Austin with a plaid suit behind the wheel. Who are they? Get some information on Bill LaFarge, the girl's father. Hey, what's that? You know, I'll bet if we open it, we'll find out. Well, I better get a move on. Just open the door a little bit and I'll squeeze by. Hello, Lieutenant. Nice to see you, Sanducci. Where's he going? Getting a line for Notre Dame tickets. Why did you take up knocking, Sanducci, huh? New directive went through the department. Show a little more courtesy. You don't wear it well. Well, I figure it's political there working on building up a gate for the next policeman's show. Gotta put you on. You're worth a couple of laughs. Yeah, yeah, I'll speak to the boys. How did you sleep last night, Regan? Fine. You shouldn't have. Their murder should have given you nightmares. There's always oval team. You know, some of the boys down at headquarters figure you know more about this shooting than you're saying. Well, they made mistakes before. No, I'm not saying. I feel like they do. What do you want? Who knocked off the LaFarge girl? You're asking yourself. Wrong answer. How would you know? She got it with a 45. What do you want? You know what I own. But I don't know about LaFarge. The shots came in through the window. Even you can figure that. It could have had help. Talk to him. I will when we pick him up. In the meantime, it's you and me. We found a roll of dough in the briefcase in the bottom bureau drawer. What was it doing there? I don't know. All right, Regan. Now let me give you a tip. The words out LaFarge got a private war on. I don't want any more shoring, so I look at it this way. He's your client. I'm holding you responsible. Fine, Regan. Yeah? Got the what's in them on Jardley's old jetoto to Baez. Gotta say, un brusallier di stupe di. What's that mean? Go find out. You're a detective. Well, I don't suppose I'll ever find out. He slid out of the room. I washed up and had a short breakfast at the corner drugstore and went through the morning favor. The LaFarge murder rate at a lot of big type and there was a picture of Alice right next to the weather report. Slightly cooler. After the bottom showed my coffee cup, I went over to the Hollywood library. The city director gave William LaFarge an orange drive home address and occupation printer. The yellow phone book turned up a LaFarge Preston print shop on Santa Monica. It was a small place. The color of stale peanut butter and it was tucked in between a pet store and a beauty parlor. When I stepped inside the front door, the bell rang and a couple of pair of tortoise shell glasses covering a couple of deep blue eyes looked at me. She was a brunette with light skin and a voice that sounded like it was diving for sponges. The print shop smell got lost in all that taboo. Good morning, sir. Can I help you? I'm looking for Mr. LaFarge. There's no Mr. LaFarge here. Sign outside, say there is. It's an old one. Won't I do instead? That's another chapter. Come turn the page. I think you'd enjoy it. You know, you ought to put out cards. Mr. Preston says business has picked up immeasurably since I started working here. Let's get back to LaFarge. I told you he's not here. Well, try Preston for me. He's very busy. They can spare a couple of words. Now, wait a minute. You can't go in there. I'm sorry, Mr. Preston. I told him you were here. All right, Lois. Who are you? My name's Regan. I'm an international detective. I got some questions about your partner. Of course. Please leave us, Lois. See you later, soldier. You got it, Mr. Regan? No, I won't be here that long. Naturally, I'll be only too happy to tell you anything I can. It was such a shock reading about his poor daughter's death. A wonderful girl. Who far has said that? You'd say it, too, if you knew her. She was very good to him. Well, Mr. Regan, what specifically can I tell you? The book calls this place Lafarge Preston. Somebody's missing. Well, you see, Bill and I were in partnership for years. When he decided to pull out, I just planned to leave the name the same. When did he go? Just a few weeks ago. Do you have a reason? I don't know exactly. He implied he had enough money or was coming into some. I'm not sure. But it happened so sudden, left me a little short-handed. Still having trouble finding a first class engraver to take his place. I left him sitting there chewing a panatella, and I moved out fast like a sailor on shore leave. It was about 11 and getting warmer. I picked up my car and went home. It took me 10 minutes to track down Sanducci. Yeah? Regan. What do you want me for? Fix a traffic ticket? Look, I got something for you. Make it good. I've been talking with Preston down at the print shop. Yeah? Lafarge stepped out kind of fast during a roll. Mm-hmm. Now look, he knew engraving. I figure you ought to take a good look at that money. It may turn up phony. I'm not impressed. All right, I gave it to you. Do what you want. Look, we checked into the door already. It's absolutely legit. Now give up, Regan. Navy didn't. She turned you down? We'll let you in. You're in town. Just catching the sights. Well, they're better outside. He's off, Regan. You don't know who you're talking to. You know, the name's a blank, but you drive a red Austin. Yeah, it's not bad for a beginner. You got a drink around? Not for you, no. Well, if I were you, I'd show a little hospitality to an out-of-town boy. Chicago. Southside, huh? You're not being very nice. You weren't invited. But now that I'm here, that changes some things, huh? What do you want? A drink. No sale. Listen, fresh guy. Get your hands off me, punk. Oh, you'll get sissy. You'll get sissy. You'll get sissy. You'll get sissy. Oh, you'll get sissy. I'm sure. Ha-ha. 45 always stops him. Like it did look that. How about getting an old-guesser drink, huh? A drink finger will do. Skip the water. You better fix one for yourself. No, you're the type that drinks alone. You better have one, Regan. It's going to be your last. How do you figure? Well, I look at it this way. A guy like me gets hired to do a job. Comes 2,000 miles-fort and pulls a boner. Like knocking off the daughter instead of the fires, huh? Yeah. That's it. Top that off with a witness sitting in the same room who spots my Red Austin. Now, let me ask you something. Can I leave him around breathing good air? According to me, no. His knees knocked together and he caved in like arches on a fat man. Four quick steps took me to the door and I looked down the hall. Nothing there. So I made it for the stairway and I looked down the spiral. An old guy was taking the steps two at a time and stuffing a gun into his overcoat pocket. It was Bill LaFarge. You were listening to the story of the man who fought back tonight's adventure with Jeff Regan, investigator. Commissions are still available in the Army Nurse Corps. Graduate registered nurses between the ages of 21 and 45 may qualify for service with this fine organization. Nurses may request active or inactive status. Those on active status enjoy the same privileges as regular Army officers. Those on inactive status may continue their civilian nursing duties but stand ready to serve in time of emergency. If you are interested in joining the Army Nurse Corps and believe that you qualify for a commission, apply to the Adjutant General, Washington, D.C. And now back to the story of the man who fought back and Jeff Regan, investigator. Well, things were moving kind of fast. The lion sent me out to meet a girl named Alice LaFarge. She took me to her father who wanted a bonded witness to be able to testify to his whereabouts that weekend. That's when a couple of shots came through the window and cut down the daughter. Before homicide put in an appearance, Bill LaFarge was gone and he didn't show again until Gus killed Alice and then came to see me. And then there was a big roll of money and a print shop in the picture but it was all out of focus. Well, I moved back into my apartment. The Chicago Hood was still there lying on my rug and I picked up the phone to call Lieutenant Sanducci. I'd just gotten a couple of numbers out when I caught a familiar smell. It was a load of taboo and it was packing a 32. Put the phone down, Regan. Why? Because I'm asking you nicely. Put it down. Homicide can wait. Gus isn't going any place. You got a plan, lady? Mm-hmm. Well, get back to that print shop and you'll stay out of trouble. Mr. President's so nice. He gave me the afternoon off. I told him my mother got sick. All right, lady, tell me about it. I'm looking for something. Name it. The ignition key to Gus's Austin. Now move over there and get it for me. What's wrong with your car? I ran out of gas. Move. Okay. Kick his gun away. Now try the overcoat pockets. Throw them. All right. Good catch. So they tell me. So long, Regan. I put in a quick call to homicide and then I waited a couple of minutes to give her a chance to get a head start. When I stepped out of the building, the red Austin was just turning the corner. I followed my car. We wound up in Glendale. She pulled into a duplex driveway next to an empty lot and I pulled in under a pepper tree up the street away. Then she got out and unlocked the trunk. She looked inside, ripped up the floor matting and then the boards. When she slammed the trunk shut, it figured that she didn't find what she was looking for. Well, 25 minutes later, I found the lion sitting behind his desk down at the office. He had a bottle of beer in one hand and a package of sand sand in the other. Spread out in front of him was a typewritten piece of paper that he just slipped out of his ramming bowl. He had a puzzled look like a little boy caught in a mix-master. Regan, where you been? Around. I've been looking all over for you. Zenduchi's been calling in every three minutes. What's he want? The story in how Gus got laid out in your apartment. Well, I'll drop him a note. He wants it now. He's got time. He doesn't come up for a pension for years. They turn up LeFars yet? No, but I turned up something. What would you say if I told you LeFars did time once? On a counterfeit rap? How'd you know? It figured. That Lois' name is scratching around for something. The feds put him away for 10 years for making up some phony bonds or stocks or something like that. How's his daughter fit? She waited for him till he got out and then tried to help him play it straight. What'd you get on Gus? Who cares about him? Lois. LeFars wasn't in on that bond job alone. Who else? He had a partner, the guy who runs the print shop, Preston. You're doing better. I figure it this way. Preston's got a new racket and J. Edgar would be real happy to know all about it. Yeah. We're gonna be the ones to tell him. How much is the reward? I don't even know if there is one. Oh, stop it. When gold went up to $35 an ounce, you pulled your mother's teeth. Regan, you're getting out alive. And then you bawled her out for not having more cavities. Now, you get over to Preston and have a talk with him. Yeah. Regan. Yeah. Remember, if we crack this thing, we'll need more money in your pocket, too. There's no room for it with your hand there already. I left him sitting there doodling dollar signs and I went out into the street. It was turning evening. I picked my car out of a lot and 30 minutes later, I stopped in the corner of Santa Monica and La Brea. The fog was rolling in by then and the street lights were trying real hard. I walked to the front door of the print shop. I shook it a little, but nothing gave, so I moved her out of the back. The place inside was as dark as a saloon in Kansas, and somebody inside was handy with a gun. So I cracked a window with a rock and I climbed inside. It smelled like target practice on a rifle range. Preston was curled up on the floor like a piece of wet tissue paper and there were two holes in them. Well, the game wasn't over, but they were running out of players. I moved for the phone to call the police and that's when I spotted Bill LaFarge. He was slumped down in a chair with a gun in his hand and he looked tired. It took a lot of shaking to bring any words out of him. Hey, come on, LaFarge. Stop shaking. I'm up. He dead? Yeah. Yeah, he was a bum. You want to give me that gun? Sure. You got a call into the cops? No, not yet. We'll use my car. Any way you want it. Yeah, don't matter much no more. Things go easy for some guys. Other guys get all the rocks. You got a couple of answers. Well, Preston did a tie-in with a gambler to send him out of Las Vegas. Some joker had a hot idea. Keep going. Counterfeit 20,000 New Year's Day bull tickets and sell them on the open market at five bucks plus. That's big business to the 100,000. But I didn't take. Preston gets sore because I wouldn't do the engraving and he got somebody else. That doesn't add up to murder. He did when his head got working overtime worrying I had too many answers. And he hired that Chicago boy with the bad eyes. Yeah, he got my daughter by mistake. Where are the bull tickets? Who cares? How does Lois fit? I don't know. All right. Front door is closer to my car. You drive, Reagan. The only traffic makes me nervous. Well, La Fars was driving a Nash and it was parked at a filling station. We fought the night traffic downtown to police headquarters and tore Sanduccia away from his Pinnacle game. He sent a couple of boys out to clean up the print shop and moved La Fars into a room with a secretary to get the story on paper. I'd heard it before so I started for home but Sanduccia had other ideas. He put me in a private little room with white walls and he told me to wait. I thought maybe he'd gone on his vacation but he finally came in. Getting tired of waiting, Reagan? Do you care? Nope. You got something to say? Maybe. Well, then spit it out because I got a date. He'll keep. Why are you holding? I had to do some checking. You got all your need. I didn't think so. Well, you got it now. That's still Reagan. I'm not ready to let you go. Now, listen, Power, just because you're wearing a badge inside that coach... Shut up and listen to me. It took me 18 years to turn in those overstuffed shoes for thin souls. I'm not letting a two-bit detective tell me how to handle my business. You could stand it. You and that crummy boss of yours are licensed by the state of California and we can lift it for ex-debt remandal to public welfare. We get a whole blotter fold. Tell that to the lion. I am telling it to you. Now, let's all beat it. Oh, Reagan. Yeah. One thing more. There's a big hole in Lafarge's story. What do you mean? Look at his gun. What about it? Look at the caliber. It's a .38. That's not the weapon that killed Gus and Preston. You sure you don't own a .32? Well, Lafarge was more used up than he figured. He couldn't tell where the dream left off and the murders began. Oh, the whole thing was a screwy picture, but the artist had a woman's touch. 25 minutes later, I pulled my car to a stop in front of a lemon-colored duplex out in Glendale. A high school boy breathing hard told me that the good-looking girl lived upstairs. I just hit the top of the landing when the door of her apartment opened and a couple of pieces of airplane luggage moved out. Her ticket didn't show, but it figured to be marked for Las Vegas. When Lois saw me, she looked kind of confused like a penguin in Death Valley. Reagan. Your memory's good. I wish you told me you were coming. I've addressed for it. No, it's better this way. You're fixed for traveling. What do you mean? We talk about it inside, huh? I'd like to, you know that, but I have a few things... Come on, move it, lady. What's come over you? What's inside the suitcase? You can work that out yourself, Reagan. You've been by a woman's shop. Throw it open. It'll embarrass you. I'll take a chance. All right, now dump it over. Come on, Sis, your time's running out. Yeah, sure. Preston had the tickets at an asbestos box hidden in the furnace. I finally turned them up. Reagan, they're worth over $100,000. Yeah, that's what Lafayre said. I know where to unload them. I won't do you any good. What do you mean? There's no PX to hatch at me. Come on, don't scramble for that 32, it's out of reach. Let go of me! You threw those holes into Gus and Preston, figuring homicidal stick Lafayre's with a wrap, knowing he was out for revenge. Let me go! Even the old guy didn't know what was going on. No, he didn't. No, but ballistics did. Reagan. Yeah? This could mean a lot of dough to us, you and me. We form a partnership. Your forehead's getting damp. Don't be a piker. Here's your chance to really turn into something. Well, now you can check with me when you get out, Lady, to see if I made it. Well, it all blew apart fast like an Adam at Cal Tech. Sanducci came down and picked up Lois. She had herself a pretty good thing for a while. Preston could have run off the phony bull tickets, and all she had to do was to sell them. Even though murder got thrown in, she could have stayed clean if she hadn't got her gun calibers mixed. Well, La Farge was walking the streets in a couple of hours, and the lion was real happy the way things worked out. He got his picture in the police gazette and picked up two bona fide passes to the Rose Bowl game. He promised to take me to the game with him. He did. He let me have the ticket at the regular price. Field is Anthony J. Lion. It's CBS at the same time next week for more hard-boiled action and mystery with Jeff Regan, investigator, written by Larry Roman, produced by Sterling Tracy. Alice was played by Lorette Philbrandt. Charles Seal was Preston. Ken Christie was La Farge. Jack Petruzzi was Sanducci. Ivan Petey was Lois. And Sidney Miller was Gus. 29,000 nurses are needed now to join the new Army Nurse Corps Officers Reserve. For the first time in history, qualified nurses have the opportunity to receive commissions in the Regular Army Reserve. These nurses will remain on inactive status, ready to serve their country in time of emergency. 4,000 of them, if they wish, may choose active duty. All nurses who receive commissions will benefit from the opportunity for specialized training offered to them by the Army. Inactive reserve status will not interfere with the nurses' civilian life, but the educational opportunities offered her by the Army Medical Department will be of great advantage in her work. If you're a registered graduate nurse between the ages of 21 and 45, drop a card for complete information to the Adjutant General, Washington, D.C. Original music for this program is by Milton Charles. Bob Stevenson speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.