 From Hollywood, it's time now for Johnny Duller Pat McCracken Johnny universal adjustment bureau. Oh, no Terrible goodbye Johnny. What's the matter? Well the last one you handed me was that phony spiritualist case and it's still haunting me Before that it was layered Douglas Douglas of Hetherscope. Oh, you made money on them, didn't you? Yeah, I nearly lost my mind Johnny come on over. Okay Tonight and every weekday night Bob Bailey in the transcribed adventures of the man with the action-packed expense account America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator yours truly Johnny Duller Expense account submitted by special investigator Johnny Duller to the Lakeside Life and Casualty Insurance Company Following as an accounting of expenditures during my investigation of the indestructible Mike matter Expense account item one eighty cents cab fare from my apartment at the office of Pat McCracken at Universal Adjustment Bureau Every one of the cases Pat had handed me lately had been rough and if I weren't for the loot involved Which is to say Pat never really cracked down on my expense accounts Well after all I didn't have any other cases pending so Sit down, huh? Cigarette or do you like a drink? Well, how are you boy? Okay, Pat, let's have it. This one must really be bad. Why Johnny, what makes you say a thing like that? You sure you wouldn't like just one little one? No, no, no, no, no, thanks. Now come on, let's get to the point. What are you trying to get out of paying off on this time? You want the truth Johnny? Nothing. Nothing at all. Just a favor for a friend of mine down in New York. Yeah, who? I want you to go down and see Peter Branson. Branson? Any relation to that worry ward Harry Branson or Philly Mutual? Well, his brother. Whoops! Get yourself another boy, Pat. No, no, Johnny. Johnny, he's as different from Harry as day is from night. Well, he better be. That literal minded stick in the mud Harry nearly drove me crazy on those two cases I handled for him. He is different as day is from night, honest. Now will you see him? Expense account item 2, 21 even, train fare and all the incidentals I could think of, Hartford to New York. Item 3, 55 cents, taxi from Grand Central, a Peter Branson's lakeside life and casualty offices at 500 Fifth Avenue. Where my worst fears were justified. That is correct, Mr. Dollar. I am not only Harry's brother. Don't tell me. You're his twin. Why, yes. How could you have guessed it? Oh, but now wait a minute. Did you say you took a taxi for the three blocks over from the station? Yep. At least that's what goes on the expense account. Oh, dear. My brother was right. You are expensive and yet he seems to have the utmost confidence in your abilities. Yeah, but now I... The amazing way in which you settled that case... Harry, Pete. Yes? What's the case that's bothering you? Isn't that interesting. I don't know you. Tell me about it. You're starting to call me Harry because of my twin. Oh, yeah. Better tell me about the case. You know a great many of our mutual friends. What? Oh, yes, of course. Michael Jeremiah Flynn, a terribly serious matter. If this sort of thing ever gets out of hand... Who's Flynn? John, he is a bum. Not we are. A regular, typical movie type version of a Bowery Bump. So? And unfortunately, he holds a $50,000 policy. Well, he must have seen better days to carry that much insurance. Never? Never, I'm sure of it. No human being could degenerate to such a state in a mere 47 years. And he looks and sounds like 67. Also, by the way, his policy is only two months old. Well, what's happened? Somebody knocked him off? No, but I am sure somebody is going to. Well, then why did you insure him? It was Martha who was really responsible. Oh, she? Martha Ingersoll, the girl I had working for me here in the office at the time he applied for the policy. I was out sick for a couple of weeks, and I'm afraid that when I came back, I did not pay sufficient attention to the application she'd accepted. At least so far as Flynn's policy is concerned. You better tell me about him. Oh, of course he passed his medical all right, so Heaven knows how. And his cash payment at the premium was all right. Cash? Yes, yes, cash, but I still should have investigated myself before allowing the policy to be issued. Look, you still haven't told me what's wrong. Now, of course, it's too late. Pete. Oh, of course, well, it's simply this. The home address that we have for him has turned out to be the Glad Hand Rescue Mission just off Fulton Street near the Fulton Market. Yeah, biggest fish market in the world, isn't it? Well, yes, yes, a fascinating place. Chips loaded with fish from all the seven seas. Colorful characters speaking at dozen different tongues. Yeah, well, I'm sorry. I interrupted what you were saying about Michael. Well, that's all right. That's all right. I'm quite a connoisseur of seafood, you know. Real epicure, if I do say so. Have you ever tasted Boston Scrod? Yeah, sure. Now, let's get back to the case. Oh, oh yes, Michael Flynn. Michael Flynn, that's right. Well, Mr. Dahler, John, it's simply because of what's happened before that I'm so worried about this one. After all, 50,000 is a sizable policy. What has happened before? The same thing. So you can see. Harry, Pete, I can't see a thing. John, it's like the Angus Cormac matter back in 47, like the old Mother McCrary affair that happened. Trying to tie Peter Branson down to the facts of the case was exactly like trying to tie his brother Harry down. Only more so. I had to keep reminding myself that all of Harry's assignments had paid off handsomely for me and keep hoping the same would be true of his brother. Three separate times in the next 15 minutes, Pete launched forth on the epicurean delights of seafood. And three times, I vainly tried to steer him back to port. Finally, I threatened to walk out on him unless he got down to business. All right. All right, John, I'll give it to you in black and white. Oh, not literally, of course. I mean, I'll tell you from the beginning. Atta boy. Now, four times within the past few years, this very same sort of policy has been issued. To some panelist, worthless bum. Yes. And everything is indicated fraud. How do you mean? In only one case were the police able to prove anything, the case of Maggie Dollyvard and Smith. Oh, yeah. Seems to me I remember that. Some racketeer, ex-bootlegger. Correct. Candy kid shoots. Yeah. He insured the old derelict for $20,000, had himself named beneficiary. That is correct. And then he had ol' Maggie murdered. Of course you remember. And you think you've got the same sort of a situation here? Yes, John. I'm afraid so. And you can't cancel the policy unless there's proof of an attempt at fraud. Correct. So you can see why I'm so deeply concerned over this. If only I hadn't left Martha Ingersoll in charge while I was sick. Whose name does beneficiary in the policy? She did sell some good policies. Beneficiary. Oh, yes. Here it is. John Wesley Cosgrave, 621 East 49th Street here in Manhattan. What do you know about him? Nothing really. And frankly, I'm afraid to find out. John? Yeah, yeah. I'll look into it. And what's the address of this rescue mission? Where all Michael hangs out. It's down near the Big Fulton Fish Market. Let me see. Here. Why don't you give me that whole folder so I can get what I want from it? Of course, John. But I am sorely afraid there isn't much to get. I'm sorely afraid Peter was right. When I had to start somewhere, Item 4, 280, taxi back to Grand Central to pick up the bags I'd parked there in the same taxi to a slightly dingy little hotel a couple of blocks off Chamber Street on the Lower East Side. Item 5, $9.83 to a secondhand clothing store where I outfitted myself in hat, coat, pants, shirts, shoes and socks that I hope would make me eligible for a spot on a bench at the Glad Hand Rescue Mission. When I finally shuffled into the place which looked more like a cheap flop house than a mission, I felt somewhat like a kid playing tramp at Halloween. Welcome, brother. Welcome to the mission. I'm Daddy Bill. Hi. The entrance to the soup kitchen is over at the side, you know? Yeah, well, I just want to sit down for a spell. Rest my feet. And have you a bed for the night, brother? Oh, who knows, I'll make out. Well, there's always room for one more, you know. Will you be here for our meeting tonight? Well, I don't know. You have an excellent singing voice, I can tell. Are you sure you don't want something to eat my boy? No, no, I'm all right. Well, then just sit and be comfortable and we can talk. I kind of hope maybe I might run into Mike. Mike. Flynn. Yes, of course. Michael lives here. Spends most of his evenings with us, poor fellow. Although I really shouldn't say that. Say what? Poor fellow. After all, he's also one of our biggest contributors, too. When he's sober, although where his money comes from, I'll never know. Yeah, well, although I'm sure it's money honestly gained, Michael's very religious. He's taken the pledge many times, many. Has a lot of money now and then, huh? Yes. He seemed to think he might have a contribution for us when he comes back tonight. But you don't know where he gets it. My boy, I never ask these personal things of the brothers. Now tell me all about you. You're from out of town, aren't you? I can tell. This was something I hadn't anticipated and I had to rack my brain to come up with a story that would convince Daddy Bill I was a bum. When I could get a word in edgewise, that is. And a kindly, gambiol biddy proceeded to tell me in my new detail the life history of all of the habituaries of his mission. All that is except the one I was interested in, Mike Flynn. Maybe he was suspicious of me. Afraid I might be trying to get my hands on some of the money all Mike frequently showed up with. The interest in the extreme, John, that's why I feel I must protect him from some of the people who come in here and might try to take advantage of him. Sure, Daddy, you're right. Responsibility for the care and welfare of the brothers weighs heavily upon me sometimes, but it's a burden I'm glad to bear. Yeah, well, um... Feed their stomachs and feed their souls. That is my task. You say your thing. And as I say, it's a task I'm privileged to assume after all whom else have they to lean on. You think Mike will be back here tonight? Oh, yes, John, I'm sure he will. Oh, but listen. The quartet in the... Well, we call it in the music room. Can you hear them? Oh, yeah. They're getting ready for the meeting tonight. Aren't they wonderful? Beautiful voices. They ain't better than that. You're sure you won't join them? Oh, no, I, uh... Some of the time, huh? Now, when it like... Whatever you say, you're going to stay here long, my boy, with that wonderful voice of yours I can tell. I will insist that you join one of our singing groups. Yeah, but Mike again... Oh, dear, did you hear that? Someone hit a solid note. Poor boys, they just can't get along without my help. You'll just have to excuse me, John. Well, I go back there and lead for them. I'll come back later. We'll talk some more. I don't know whether it was the overuse of steam, heat, and a battered old assembly hall in a mission, having listened to two solid hours of Daddy Bill's talk about his boys. Whatever it was, I was tired. And since I had nothing better to do than wait for Mike Flynn to show up, I stretched out on one of the hard benches and closed my eyes. Hey, ugh. How long I slept, I have an at least idea. I'd managed to conjure up a mighty sweet dream, too. Daddy Bill... What? What the... Oh, there. Oh, hold it, fella. Hey, you had a couple too many. Yes, I guess, uh... He's out back working with a quartet now. Come on over here and lie down. Yes, I guess, old Michael... Michael Jeremiah Flynn, sir. I guess, I guess, I guess I have... had a couple... A couple too many was right. But not of what I'd thought. His tattered coat opened as he fell, and there, just below the heart, two dark red splotches slowly widened on his ragged shirt. And it looked like Peter Branson was right. The beneficiary of Michael Jeremiah Flynn's life insurance policy was anxious to collect. Now, here's our star to tell you about tomorrow's intriguing episode of This Week's Story. Tomorrow? Well, tomorrow there's proof that life is a very tenacious thing, even in the broken body of a Bowery bum. Join us, won't you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Starring Bob Bailey is transcribed in Hollywood. It is produced and directed by Jack Johnstone, who also wrote Tonight's Story. Be sure to join us tomorrow night, same time and station for the next exciting episode of Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar, Roy Rowan speaking.