 For your listening enjoyment, John Lund as Johnny Doller. Ed Gross, Johnny, busy? No, I just finished the case. How can I help you? I'd like you to fly to California, Tom of California. Investigate the death of a woman who was reported to have perished in a fire, uh, Sarah Deering. Sarah Deering? That name has a familiar ring? The silent movie star. Oh, yeah. But she retired in the 20s, didn't she? Think of her career. Our company carries a $100,000 policy on her life, and there's a rumor and drama that Sarah Deering's death was not due to the fire. Oh, yeah? Who benefits by her death? Who she appointed as the executor of her estate, or who the beneficiaries might be, who will undoubtedly reach us before long. Meanwhile, I'm to investigate this rumor? Yeah. Our hearing and the newspaper item that gave us the tip. No, many great men have attained the highest office in our land, the presidency of the United States. Can you guess the name of this man? During his 50 years of public service, he held almost every office the public could give him. He was born in Virginia in 1758, and at the age of 18, when he left college to enter the army, his wife and his cabinet boasted the names of such distinguished Americans as John Quincy Adams and John C. Calhoun. When he was re-elected in 1820, he carried every state in the Union and won every electoral vote except one which was cast for John Quincy Adams. If you don't have his name by now, here are two more clues. During his presidency, the first public high school was started, and the first steamship crossed the Atlantic. Who was he? James Monroe, fifth president of the United States. His life is part of your American heritage. Spencer County is submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Dollar to Home Office Federal Life Insurance Company, Hartford, Connecticut. The following is an accounting of expenditures during my investigation of the Sarah Dearing matter. Spencer County, item one, $153 plain fare and incidentals from Hartford to International Airport, Inglewood, California. I rented a convertible and drove to Palmer, a little village perched high in the Santa Rosa Mountain, overlooking a thousand square miles of Mojave Desert. I registered at the town's only hotel, then dropped around the offices of the Palmer News. Oh, hello. Can I help you? I'm looking for the editor, Lacey. I'm Lacey. I'm Lacey, Maggie Lacey. The editor? The editor. You're kidding. I wish you salesmen would think of a new approach. I'm just a little weary, excusing the fact that I'm not a drizzled old parrot who would drink ink in his coffee. Miss Lacey. And I've got all the printing supplies I need. I'm sorry. Captain, next time you pass through. I'm here to talk about a news item, Miss Lacey. Which item? This one. And what about it? Well, it says that there are some rather peculiar circumstances, quote, surrounding the recent death of Palmer's most famous citizen, Miss Sarah Dearing. These circumstances were discovered by the Palmer News and brought to the attention of Dan Cox County Sheriff. As of this writing, Sheriff Cox has chosen to ignore the evidence submitted by the news. Why? Unquote. You write that? Yes. And you submitted the evidence to Sheriff Cox? Yes, I did. What sort of evidence, Miss Lacey? I'm not sure that's any of your business, Mr. Dollar. Johnny Dollar. My credentials. Oh, insurance investigator. For federal life. They insured Sarah Dearing? For $100,000. Who's the beneficiary, Mr. Dollar? Her estate. The executor hasn't contacted my company as yet. In fact, we don't know who he is or where to reach him. 100,000, you say? Just waiting to be claimed. That would explain why she's here. What did you say? Sarah Dearing was murdered, Mr. Dollar. I'm almost positive on it. You better explain, Miss Lacey. Well, as you know, Sarah Dearing was burned to death in her bed. At least that's what the county coroner certified. Accidental death, beautifier of unknown origin. But you disagree. And I'll show you why. I found this in the ruins of a bedroom. A medicine bottle. The label was burned off. What's this stuffed cake in the bottom? A piece of local pharmacist analyzed it for me. It's what's left of a very powerful sedative. Is this the evidence you submitted to the sheriff? And he said it wasn't anything to be concerned about. Well, listen, Miss Dollar, the stuff in this bottle can only be purchased by prescription. And it wasn't purchased here in Palmer. So? So I think those two men brought it. I think they drugged Sarah Dearing and then rigged up some kind of contraption that was caught afire in her bedroom after they got out of town. Hey, hold on. You left me with two men. What two men? The ones who come to see Sarah Dearing every year on the same day. Who are they? Nobody seems to know. They usually come together on the noon bus and leave town on the 620. I took a photograph of them last year, trying to do a story on them someday, you know, from the angle of mysterious admirers make yearly pilgrimage to see ex-movie queen. There it is. Hmm. And these men appeared on the day of her death. Mm-hmm. So that's on the 620, and the fire was discovered at 8. Any idea where they come from? Hollywood. I checked with a bus driver. Hmm. You've done a very thorough job, Miss Levy. Sarah Dearing has been my idol ever since I was old, Mr. Green. I've read everything ever written about her. She's a wonderful woman. Yeah, so I've heard. I understand that she was a recluse. What woman wouldn't wear to the heartbreak she's had? You know, she died broke, Mr. Dollar, except for the insurance policy. Did she owe anyone? No. No, there was just enough left in her bank account to pay her a few debts, and Hilda's wages. Who's Hilda? Hilda Brower, her political maid. She's been with her ever since she started in pictures. Well, thanks for your help, Miss Levy. I'll keep in touch. County Sheriff Dan Cox seated behind a well-ordered desk in his well-ordered office. He listened carefully while I explained the purpose of my call. And when I finished, he wagged his massive shock of silver-white hair. Mr. Dollar, I'm afraid your company has been misled by an overzealous newspaper woman. Sarah Dearing's death was accidental. What about the sedatives found in her room, Sheriff? Maggie Levy claims they were prescription drugs, not purchased here in Palmer. Then, Miss Dearing must have purchased them elsewhere. They're a close who hadn't been off her estate for 20 years. Hilda Brower, her maid, went lots of places for Miss Dearing. How about the two men who called on her the day of her death? Old friends, Mr. Dollar, came to see Miss Dearing every year on her birthday. You know them, Sheriff? Yes. You care to give me their name? I would care, Mr. Dollar. They were friends of a very fine lady. I know she wouldn't want them to be annoyed because of some foolish rumors about her death. You seemed very certain that it was accidental. It couldn't have been anything else. Dearing didn't have an enemy in the world. I get the impression that you knew her rather well. We were close friends, Mr. Dollar. I see. Sheriff, did you consider the possibility of suicide? Impossible. A woman who enjoyed living as much as she did doesn't take her own life. Yet she shut herself away from the world. And why not? Her fame had brought her most of what the world had to offer. She preferred solitude. Any good help, Sheriff? Sarah Dearing was always in delicate health though she'd never admitted, especially to herself. I see. Was there an autopsy? The county coroner felt the circumstances didn't warrant an autopsy. And you agreed? Naturally, Mr. Dollar. I happened to be Sheriff and county coroner. I drove to the outskirts of town located Sarah Dearing's rambling Spanish villa where I found Hilda Brower, an enormous, terrible woman. It was my evening out. Same as every Thursday, Mr. Dollar. I go to early movie. I'm home at eight. I smell smoke. It comes from her bedroom. There's fire. I try to reach her, but the flames... It's all right. You did what you could, I'm sure. Excuse me, please. I'm not myself. Of course. Hilda, who were the two men who visited Mr. Dearing that day? Two men? The ones who came every year on her birthday. I do not know any men. Hilda, I know you're upset. I cannot tell you anymore. I don't know any more. You know their names, Hilda. What are they? I cannot say any more. Please, go away now. Now look, Hilda. You're on my best leave, Mr. Dollar. Wow, Sheriff Cox. Hilda can't tell you any more than I've already told you. Cases closed. Why persistence stirring up ugly rumors? I've got a job to do, Sheriff. You've done it. Now why not leave us in peace? I'll be going when I'm satisfied. That's your privilege, sir. Meanwhile, don't trespass on this property again. Just as you say, Sheriff. Goodbye. Sheriff Cox didn't bother to see me out, so I had a chance to pause in Sarah Dearing's living room and study some photographs that you caught my eye earlier. There were four of them, all enshrined in gold frames, all of the same handsome young man. The face was weak-mild without character and vaguely familiar. Mr. Dollar, back so soon? Any luck? I don't know yet, Miss Lacey. May I see the photograph of those mysterious visitors you showed me before? Oh, of course. Here you are. You've got a lead, Mr. Dollar. Ah, I think so. You see this man, the tall one? Mm-hmm. Well, there are four photos of him in Sarah Dearing's living room. Were they autographed? No, but they were framed in enough gold to indicate he must have held a very special place in her life. Of course, he's a lot older than this photograph. How about his pudgy little companion here? Well, apparently he didn't rate enshrinement. Only the tall one made the hall of fame. That's weird. Miss Lacey, are you absolutely positive these two men visited Sarah during the day she died? Oh, yes, absolutely. Thanks. I'll borrow this photo if you don't mind. Be back tomorrow. Uh, Mr. Dollar, it's Johnny Wade. Yeah? Where are you going in such a lather? To the Hollywood Public Library to find a name for this space. If you think the person in this photograph was an actor, Mr. Dollar, his picture and name will undoubtedly be catalogued in the player's directory or prior to 1937's Standard Casting Directory. Well, fine. However, unless you know approximately when he was acting you may be in for a very long search. Oh? A new edition of the directory is published three times a year. Each contains hundreds of performers. I see. Well, dust off the 1923 editions. I'll work my way forward. Powers in what seemed to be 400,000 faces later, I found my man in a 1928 edition of the Standard Casting Directory. He was Neville Thomas, represented by an agent named Mattie Freeman. A phone call to the artist manager's guild disclosed that Freeman had gone out of business 10 years ago. He was now owner of Mattie's Steakhouse, an expensive eatery on Las Viennica Boulevard, Hollywood's restaurant roll. At the bar I was about to relieve my parked stroke when who should approach but the pudgy little man in the photo Maggie Racy had loaded me. Oh, I'm Mattie Freeman. That's what he said you want to see me. Yeah, that's right. I didn't touch your name, Mr. Dollar, Donny Dollar, insurance investigator. Well, what can I do for you? Well, I was looking for an actor you used to represent. Neville Thomas. But you'll do fine for now. I don't understand this photo. Give you a hint. Neville and me. Taken in Parma last year. What did you get, fish? That's not why I'm here to talk about, Mr. Freeman. OK, so you've got a photograph. And a witness who saw you and Neville Thomas in Parma a few hours before Sarah Dearing died. I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Dollar, and a few excuses. Just a minute. What is it? You mean to say that you've never heard of Sarah Dearing? Was my privilege to be in the business when Sarah Dearing was making motion picture history? Well, feeling the way you do, it seems to me you'd be willing to cooperate. How? Explain what you were doing in Parma the day Sarah Dearing died. I could explain anything to you. I just thought maybe you'd like to clear yourself. What? Suspicion of Sarah Dearing's murder. I'm having a pipe ring, Dollar. Sarah Dearing died in a fight. OK. Then let's move on to Neville Thomas. Where can I find him? I wouldn't know. All right. Have it your way. I'll find Neville Thomas with or without your help. My company can usually get police cooperation. I'll see you, Mr. Freeman. Uh, one second, Dollar. Yeah? I just want this police cooperation in place. Oh, a statewide alarm for Neville Thomas. Wanted for questioning in connection with the death of Sarah Dearing. The sheriff at Parma certified a death with accidental. The matter's closed. Any matter of murder can always be reopened. You're messy. Lots of newspaper publicity. But I'm going to find Thomas. See you around. Uh, wait, Dollar. Yeah? Neville Thomas is in my office. Mind if I break in here for a moment to say a few words? Just the other day, I was having lunch with a group of newspaper reporters. We were talking about the government and what goes into its operation when a thought struck me. It's a funny thing, I said. They call one branch of the government, the State Department, when it handles all of our foreign affairs. Can any of you fellas explain that? Well, one of the reporters who writes political news piped up and said, actually, the State Department does more than handle foreign affairs. It also publishes all of the laws that have been passed by Congress and issues all the passports and visas for anyone traveling outside the United States. Well, just then, the waitress brought us our coffee and she entered the conversation. Don't forget, she said, if you're ever on a quiz show, you can maybe win a trip to the moon by telling them that the State Department has the job of making sure the great deal of the United States doesn't get lost. And it acts sort of like a governmental Emily post, too. While she was making out our checks, she added this bit of information. Did you ever hear of the Division of Protocol? That's part of the State Department, too. It's the outfits that make sure foreign diplomats who visit America get introduced the way they should and get seated in the right places at official dinners and things like that. Well, after she gave us all that information, we tipped her and went back to work. And now I think it's time we got back to our program. And now with our star, John Lund, we bring you the second act of yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Mr. Freeman led me back to his office with all the grudging grace of a kid surrendering a stolen apple. The man he introduced as Neville Thomas was still handsome, but branded with a bitter down-at-the-mouth expression. You asked me if I knew Sarah Deering. Why, I was her leading man in five pictures, Mr. Dollar. She was a vixen, temperamental, the most exasperating woman in the world. She had a great gift, Neville. A gift for stealing scenes, yes. When was your last year, Mr. Thomas? Yes? All right. Excuse me, I'm one and outside. I know you'll cooperate with Mr. Dollar, Neville. Don't worry, Mary. My ex-agent stole me blind when I was on the top of the heap. I drop around here once in a while to admire the house my money built. Let's get back to Sarah Deering. If you insist. Not since our last picture. Oh, that's not true. You saw her the day she died. I'm afraid you're mistaken, Mr. Dollar. You were positively identified. By whom? By someone who's seen you in Palmer every year on Sarah Deering's birthday. Fantastic. Take a look at this photograph. Care to reconsider your answer? Only to this extent, Mr. Dollar. I'll admit I did visit Sarah Deering occasionally, as seldom as possible, and only after she besieged me with letters and phone calls. You see, Sarah was in love with me. Had been for many years. Well, and you? I'm afraid I didn't share Mattie's adoration for her, Mr. Dollar. A pity is the nicest word to express my feelings for Sarah. I see. What do you know about the real cause of her death? I read that you died in the fire. Has there been some further development? You were seen leaving her home less than two hours before the fire was discovered. Impossible. I can prove I was here in Hollywood at the apartment of a friend. Who? Mattie Freedman. Well, it didn't take a mental colossus to deduce that Thomas and his ex-agent had rehearsed their alibi before I ever set foot in the steakhouse. The clincher, if I needed one, came as I pulled out of the parking lot. I spotted Mattie talking to someone in a park sedan. Someone obliged by striking a match to his cigar, which revealed that it was Sheriff Dan Cox. Right then, I decided to call it a day. I registered at the plaza, took an aspirin, a hot shower, and a sleeping tablet in that order. Thank you. Well, lucky you, lucky you, wherever you are. Maggie Lacy, Johnny, I've got to see you right away. Who's the baggy? It's two o'clock in the morning. I'll drive down first thing tomorrow. I'm not boning from Palmer, Johnny. I'm here in Hollywood. I'll be at the plaza lobby in five minutes. Hello, hello, Maggie. Matt... Oh, you look awful. Well, I told you. I took a sleeping tablet. Oh, it's a blockbuster. My eyelids feel like lead sash waste. Come here. Let's sit down over here. Okay. Billy Baker. Well, when I missed you at the library, I decided to do a little research on Sara Deering. Well, good for you. They have a wonderful Sara Deering scrapbook with all her new photos and clipping. I, uh, borrowed this. Hey. Hey, are these agonized eyes to see me or the people in this photo? Read the caption, Johnny. Relaxing with Mrs. Sara Deering, beside her Hollywood swimming pool, and the four lucky people to whom the motion picture star will someday leave her multi-million-dollar estate. They are left to right, Miss Hilda Brower, her personal maid, Mr. Maddie Freeman, her agent, Neville Thomas, her current leading man, and Dan Cox, her attorney. Think of it, Johnny. Sheriff Cox, the man who insists her death was accidental, is one of her ayes. Well, you're not the least surprised. Well, I'll see you in the morning, Maggie. Well, Johnny, wait. Aren't you going to do something? Yeah, yeah. I'm going to point you toward the YWCA, then send a wire to my company. Well, wait quietly for an answer. What time is it? What are you doing in Hollywood? Try phoning young Tom last night, or have you been? I'll explain later, Mr. Gross. Say, how about Sara Deering's insurance? Anybody claim the 100,000 yet? Yeah, I got a registered letter yesterday. Mailed two days ago from the executor of her estate. Yeah? Who is he? A palmo man named Cox. I checked out of the plaza, expense account item three, $12, and was halfway to Palmo before I realized I'd forgotten to pick up Maggie Lacey. But I quieted my conscience by making a mental promise that she'd get an exclusive story on Hilda Brower's confession. At this point, confronted with all the information I had, I figured Hilda would be the easiest of the four heirs to break. I learned how wrong a guy can be to Sara Deering's villa and discovered I was expected. Come in, Mr. Dollar. Well, you do get around, Sheriff. Yes, you too, sir. Fortunately, your moves are fairly predictable. So you're here to see that I don't talk to Hilda again. Hilda is ill. She can't be disturbed. Let me raise you a caption on an old newspaper photo. Relaxing with Ms. Sara Deering, beside her Hollywood swimming pool, are the four lucky people to whom the motion picture star someday leave her mother-million-dollar estate. They are left to ride Hilda Brower, Maddie Freeman... Well, you need to go on, Mr. Dollar. I see what you're driving at. You think the four of us murdered Ms. Deering for her insurance? Well, it's the most logical theory today, Sheriff. Especially since you happen to be the executor of the estate. Mr. Dollar, Sara Deering was not murdered. However, I will admit that she did not die as a result of the fire. She was dead when the fire was started. What was the fire about? Hilda. She came home, found Ms. Deering dead, an open bottle of sedatives beside the bed. Suicide. That's what Hilda thought. She must have gone out of her head with grief. She told me later that her only thought was to protect Ms. Deering, the name from the shame of a suicide death. So she set the fire to destroy the evidence? Yes. And to circumvent the suicide cause and Sara Deering's policy? What's that? The policy is not payable if the insurer dies by her own hands, Sheriff. Your tone implies that I was unaware of that strike, Mr. Dollar? I'm not interested one way or the other. My job is finished. I'm reporting death by suicide to my company. You haven't heard the full story, Mr. Dollar. As more? Sir, Deering was not a suicide. She just said she was. I said Hilda thought she was. Get to the point, Sheriff. After Matty Freeman and Neville Thomas paid Ms. Deering their usual birthday visits, she had another caller. Oh, he's down the hall in the study. This way. Because of your skepticism, Mr. Dollar, I had to request the state police to get the man you're going to meet. While the hunt was going on, I knew you'd be tracking down Matty Freeman and Thomas, that you'd dig into Ms. Deering's past, find things which would be misleading. Well, the maneuvering is over now. This gentleman can tell you the real truth about Sara Deering's death. Mr. Dollar, this is Dr. James Harding. Oh, so you're a dollar, huh? That's right. You've caused a lot of trouble, Dollar. Look up the first vacation I've had in 10 years. I'm sorry, but there's a matter of $100,000. Please don't interrupt. I've got to be back in Beverly Hills by noon. Your patient's waiting. Well, then get to the point, Dr. Harding. All right, all right. I've got a little hideout in the desert. That's where the state police found me. I was on my way there the day Sara Deering died. I had to pass through formals before I stopped off to see her. Dr. Harding was her physician, Mr. Dollar. And a very old friend. I was about seven when I drove up to my pounder alone. She'd had a sudden attack. She was dying. Dying? Sara Deering has been dying for years, Mr. Dollar. I won't go into the medical details. Suffice it to say, her courage couldn't hold off the inevitable any longer. As she was feeling fast and great pain. Oh, you gave her the sedative. Yes. She died quietly. And Jim came down to my office to report her death. I was out on a call. I didn't want to wait until I filled out a death certificate. Left it with a note on Dan's desk and then drove on to my desert place. Meanwhile, Hilda returned home from the movies, found Miss Deering dead, and the bottle of sedatives Jim had forgotten. The rest, you know, Mr. Dollar. Well, it's none of my affair or my company's. But just for the record, why did you report Sara Deering died as a result of the fire? If I'd reported the real truth, then I would have had to charge a very devoted servant and companion with Arson. But Hilda did set the fire, Sheriff, and Arson is a crime. Mr. Dollar, do you think Hilda committed a crime? Well, legally, yes, but morally. Well, as I said, it's none of my affair, is it? Goodbye, gentlemen. Goodbye, Mr. Dollar. I spent the count item number four. Five dollars to check out of the Palma hotel room I never had the chance to use. Item five, fifty-one dollars and seventy-five cents, gas, oil, and rental on the convertible. Item number six, one hundred and fifty dollars, plane fare, and incidentals back to Hartford. Expense account total, three hundred and seventy-two dollars and twenty-five cents. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar.