 My name's Regan. I work for Anthony J. Lyon Detective Bureau. They call me the Lyons Eye. Jeff Regan investigators starring Paul Dubov as Regan with Frank Nelson as Anthony J. Lyon. So stand by for mystery and suspense and adventure in tonight's story of the man behind the rod. She was ported and relieved. She had sharp cams, lift and overlap, and Dick Elcock loved her. Before the case was closed she came close to killing me, but I didn't know about that when I walked into the Lyon Detective Bureau office. The Lyon, my boss, Anthony J. was sitting behind his desk studying a photo. He had that, we got a new client beam on his face. Well, Jeffrey, here you are. That's right. We've got a new client, my boy. Very buxy. How much? It's $300, Jeffrey. $150 this morning or $150 at the close of the case. Who's the photo? It is Jennifer B. It's the B's hands for Jennifer's displacement, Jeffrey. Don't stop now. Well, Jennifer displaces 230 cubic inches, you see. So of course she's B. Of course. As to her foot pounds of torque, now let me see. Mr. Elcock told me when he was here this morning, but I don't see... Elcock, who's he? A new client, Jeffrey. He wants us to get his son, Dick Elcock, away from Jennifer here. Let me see that photograph. Certainly, my boy. Here you are. So that's it. Jennifer's one of those souped up jobs, a hot rod. Exactly. She develops 140 miles per hour at 8,000 rpm. Mr. Elcock feels that's a little bit too much for his boy, Dick. I see what he means. It would, of course, as Mr. Elcock said this morning. He'd hardly hire private detectives merely to check on his son if he didn't have reason to think something queer was going on, Jeffrey. Now we're getting somewhere. Elcock, say what? Well, something to do with somebody named Salvatore, Jeffrey. Salvatore? Yes. Mr. Elcock's heard them quarreling over the phone. His son and Salvatore? That's right. Threats, veiled threats, recriminations, that sort of thing. Nothing more specific? No. Well, you know how it is. A father doesn't like the eavesdrop. That is not too obvious, Lee Jeffrey. Guess not. Salvatore. Well, that's the start, I guess. Plenty of Salvatore's around LA. You hadn't know the last name, or it didn't help much. I phoned our client Mr. Elcock. He didn't know Salvatore's last name. All he could give me was that his son was a pretty decent kid, but nuts over speed and motors. About noon I went down onto the street, and that was when I came up with something. Paper, Mr. Regan? Afternoon edition's just out. Yeah, okay. Here you are, Mr. Regan. Thanks. There you go. Keep the change. Gee, thanks, Mr. Regan. I glance through the news, turn to the sport page, and there it was. Photo of Jennifer B. Lowered body, no fenders, chrome dual exhausts, cut down top, slot windows. Jennifer B. Expensive looking hot rod. Dick Elcock was racing her at 2 p.m. on a dirt track above Santa Monica, the paper said. Check my watch? It was 12.15. There was time to pick up the line and make the first race. The paper listed the others who were racing hot rods. One name interested me, Salvatore Marino. Over this way, Lyon. Yeah, I'm right with you, Jeffrey. Here, through the crowd. Yeah. There, that passageway goes out to the track. Oh, you want to find Dick Elcock before the races start? Is that it, Jeffrey? We've got a quarter of an hour before 2 o'clock, might as well use it. Yes, yes. Hey. What is it, Jeffrey? They're ahead at the end of the passage. Come on, Lyon. Yeah, but Jeffrey, it's just a young man, one of the hot rod races. Dungarees, T-shirt, white crash helmet. Driving goggles shoved up on the crash helmet. The hot rod driver, sure. Well, then, Jeffrey, I don't see it. Look at the expression on his face. Yeah, he doesn't look very trustworthy, does he, Jeffrey? He's watching for something just outside the passage. All right, take it easy. Now he doesn't see us. He was thin-faced, sly, and the back of his T-shirt was the number seven. I glanced at the clipping I tore from the paper, names and numbers of the drivers. Dick Elcock? No. Salvatore Marino? Salvatore Marino was number two. Dick Elcock was number nine. Number seven. Somebody else. James Prichard. Lyon and I got three quarters up the passage before we saw in Prichard's hand a long reaming tool pointed steel shaft. That was when... Salvatore! I got business, Prichard. No, hold it! Keep out of it! This fight between Elcock and me. Number two hot rod driver in the passageway, Salvatore Marino. Then another driver in the passage, number nine, Dick Elcock. Salvatore Marino jumped him. Come on, Lyon, grab Marino. I'll get Elcock. Get out, Jeffrey. Don't be hasty. Come on, you keep out of it, Prichard. I ain't in this. Come on, you two. Wake it up! No, I'm just alone. He's been after me a month and I'm gonna clean him up. Yeah, sure, Dick. You're gonna clean me up. You and MacArthur. Yeah, come on and fight in your scene. See what, jerk? Come on, Lyon! Come on! All right, now, now, now, boys. What's this all about? Well, Sal jumped me, Mr. Miller. He's been asking for it. All right, all right, all right. All right, we all know it's because of the girl, Francie Prichard, huh? That reminded me. I looked around. James Prichard had disappeared. It is because of Francie Prichard, isn't it? Yes, Mr. Miller. Yeah, it is. I thought so. Oh, you gentlemen, who are you? My name's Regan. This is Mr. Lyon. Thank you for being kind enough to intervene. We're private detectives. Yes, yes, Lyon Detective Bureau. I see. And you're here on business, perhaps? Oh, I am! Hold it, Lyon. Maybe we are. Well, I'm Jack Miller. I sponsor these afternoon hot rod races. Oversee the activities of the boys, you understand? Perhaps you gentlemen... Oh, Sal, Dick, class B trial, start in five minutes. Yes, Mr. Miller. You two, it better get to your cars. Okay, Mr. Miller. And we'll discuss what just happened later, Dick Sal. Yeah. Yeah, sure. Okay. Oh, and you gentlemen, perhaps you would accompany me to my office where we can talk. Uh, cigars, gentlemen. Oh, thank you, Mr. Miller. Yes, we're racing class Bs this afternoon. 183 to 250 cubic inch displacement. Who's Francie Prichard, Miller? Your professional concern, Mr. Egan, is with Miss Prichard? With Dick Elcock. His concern seems to be with Francie Prichard. Oh, yes, yes. I see how it is now. She, James Prichard's sister? That's right, she is. Dick Elcock's father has engaged us to check up on his boy, Mr. Miller. To get the record straight, Miller, it's this hot rod stuff Elcock's worried about. Oh, yes, yes. Some parents do consider hot rods dangerous. That's one of the reasons I sponsor this track, you see, to keep the boys from racing in the streets. What do you get out of running the show, Miller? A certain spiritual satisfaction, Mr. Egan. Oh, now, now, Mr. Miller, I'm sure Mr. Egan didn't mean to imply that. And too, Mr. Egan, I have a speed shop, as they are called. Uh, dealing in hot rod and special car accessory equipment. It's quite a profitable business. It figured there'd be something like that. Which of the two motives you consider the chief one will be an index to your own character, Mr. Egan? Yeah. I see what you mean. Well, gentlemen, the first preliminary is about to start. If you'd care to watch from my bar. Look there, Jeffrey. There's Jennifer B. Dick Elcock's hot rod. I didn't know the cars carried passengers, Miller. Sometimes. That hot rod took cars over from Elcock at the wheel. Salvatore Marino. Jeffrey, Salvatore Marino's passenger is a girl. Yeah. Francie Pritchard, Miller. Oh, yes. Yes, that's Miss Pritchard, Mr. Egan. Hey, that's Jennifer B. Moving to the front now. And right beside Elcock's car, that's Salvatore Marino. Hey, Jeffrey! Jeffrey, did you see that? Marino tried to side swipe Elcock. You let your kids get away with that stuff, Miller. Marino ought to be disqualified. Oh, now, gentlemen, you ought to understand a certain amount of leeway. Naturally high competitive spinach of the board. Sure, sure, competitive for Francie Pritchard. Look what's going on out there on the track. Good, Jeffrey, those boys are going to crash if they're not careful. It wasn't just Marino that ought to be thrown off the track, our client Elcock's son, too. Marino and Elcock were battling it out at 60 and 70 miles an hour, skidding, gunning, slowing dirt. Well, it was a clean-cut case. You didn't have to be a genius to see it was a love feud. Elcock and Marino against each other. Motive, love for Francie. Sure, it was simple. All of a sudden, I thought of something. Dick Elcock trying to smash Marino's car because Salvatore Marino was his rival for Francie. Yeah, Marino driving, but Francie, a passenger in the same car. Elcock would have to crack up Francie to crack up Marino on a car to Francie. You put it that way and it didn't make sense. First trials ended with Marino and Elcock finishing 1-2, both qualified for the big race. There were three more heats to be run off before the big race started. I told the lion to keep an eye on the track. Miller stepped out of the box a second and I told him to keep an eye on Miller. Then I went out back of the track where the drivers were tuning up their hot rods. Dick Elcock had his hand under the hood of a car. The car wasn't the Jennifer B. Dick, Dick, don't, don't, but into it, don't. I'm not doing anything. That's Marino's car, isn't it? Oh, who are you? Name's Regan. Well, what have you got to do with it? I heard him tell Mr. Miller, Francie. He's a detective. Oh, well, then you know, Mr. Regan. I know about you, Francie, and Salvatore Marino and Dick Elcock here. What about the, the rest? Rest? Gimme. Oh, no, no, I... Don't tell him anything, Francie. No, Dick, no, I won't. Listen, Elcock, your father hired me. That's why I'm here. He doesn't like you messing around hot rods. After watching your prelim, I see what he means. I'm old enough to do what I want to. Your dad put up 300 bucks to my agency that says you are. Now give it to me. Why did you try to run Marino off the track on the preliminary? Well, because of Francie. That's what I thought at first. You and Salvatore rivaled for Francie. That checks, huh, Francie? Well, yes. Sure, love triangle. Only Elcock, you couldn't hurt Salvatore out there on the track without hurting Francie. They were in the same car. So what was really on your mind? I was sore at Salvatore. You're sick to that. A minute ago, you had your hand under the hood of Salvatore's car here to mess it up because you saw at him. Yes. That all of it? That's all of it. Listen, Elcock, you're into something. Maybe way in over your head. That's true, Mr. Regan. You keep out of it, Francie. No. Listen to him. Listen to Mr. Regan, Dick. I know what I'm doing. You and Marino were jamming each other out there on the track and Miller isn't going to disqualify you for the main race. Why? You won't answer that one, huh? Well, maybe Miller will. I found Miller and Lyon back in Miller's office under the stands. Miller wouldn't disqualify Elcock and Marino. Hedged, put on a cool smile, said he didn't feel it justified. I told him my job was to protect Dick Elcock. That was what Elcock's dad had bought himself, a 150 down and 150 to come. Mr. Regan, why don't you ride with Dick Elcock in the race? Huh? Each driver will have a passenger. That's not a bad idea, Lord. Jevrey, it might be dangerous, very dangerous, my boy. You know Lyon, you're right. Well, Jevrey, are you sure you really are? Gotta protect Elcock. That's what we're hired for. And besides, Miller, there's something screwy going on here at your track. Maybe during the big race I'll find out what. I went back out to where the hot rods were warming up before going to the start of the main race. Something screwy was going on at Miller's hot rod track, all right? Something wrong. Real wrong. There's a clot of hot rod drivers, mechanics and girlfriends around something on the ground and I shoved in. All right, all right, don't crowd. Stay back for the ambulance, please. Please stay back. Elcock, what's up? It's fancy, Mr. Regan. Oh, Tommy, help with the stretcher. Is she hurt badly, doctor? Oh, I can't tell. She's unconscious. What happened? Well, somebody hit Francie over the head, Mr. Regan. Yes, here, just at the temple. We were all watching the end of the last preliminary and then we turned around and there she was, Mr. Regan, slumped on the ground. Nobody saw what happened? No, no. Nice of the race covered any quite Francie might have made. I, I suppose so. But, Mr. Regan, who'd hate Francie enough to do this to her? Maybe it wasn't somebody who hated Francie, Elcock. What? I don't, I don't understand. Maybe it was somebody who loved her. Knocked Francie out so she wouldn't ride with Salvatore Marino in the big race. Just in case, Elcock, anything should happen to Marino's car. It was a five-sided triangle. Dick Elcock and Salvatore Marino in love with Francie Pritchard. That part was clear. Only after that the things smogged up. There was James Pritchard, Francie's brother, in it somewhere. And Miller, sponsor of the hot rod track. Miller wouldn't disqualify Marino and Elcock for the main race. When you could see with your eyes shut, the kids were going to fight it out with their hot rods on the track. The track ambulance carried Francie Pritchard off. Before I had time to check around and maybe get a lead on who slugged it, the loudspeaker system was announcing the main race. I'm going to show you the hot rod classics of the afternoon. Check your programs, please, as the qualifying entrance are announced. Number two, Salvatore Marino. Number five, Tommy Tomlinson. Number seven, James Pritchard. Number eight, Harry Essman. Number nine, Dick Elcock. I went over to Jennifer B. Her headlights taped to prevent flying glass, fire extinguisher ready in case of a crash. Dick Elcock was strapping himself into the bucket seat behind the wheel. I can't talk to you now, Mr. Regan. The race starts in just a second. I'm riding with you, Elcock. You can't do that. Any special reason? Well, just that I'm... Well, Mr. Miller won't lecture. Here's suggestion. Mr. Miller said you should ride with me in that race. Yeah. You got an extra one of those crash helmets? No. No, I don't want you to ride with me. Listen, Elcock, I could go to the phone right now and call your dad, tell him where you are, what you're doing, describe the way you and Salvatore Marino drove in that first prelim. Oh, don't do that, Mr. Regan. Or I could phone the cops. Tell them about Francie Pritchard. I could give the cops a pretty solid story, Dick, on who might have assaulted her, what the motive might have been. They might figure they had enough to lock you up. I didn't hit Francie, Mr. Regan. I wouldn't do that. Maybe you wouldn't. Maybe you didn't do it. I'd tell you I didn't. If that's true, Elcock, you better help me prove it. You got an extra crash helmet? Yes. Well, yes, I had, Mr. Regan, with my gear in the back of the car. Get it, Elcock. Yeah, go ahead, get it. I'll be right back. The lion was standing up in Miller's box, 20 or 30 yards on up the track, signaling me. I went over and the lion was alone in the box. Jeffrey, Jeffrey, I've got to talk to you a minute. Shoot, that's all right. Well, Jeffrey, something very strange is going on here. Where's Miller? That's just it. We came back up from the office and then he excused himself. Said he had to go back down under the stands and speak to some of the track officials. Go on. Well, when he didn't come back, I went down to see what had happened to him. I've checked everywhere, Jeffrey. Mr. Miller has disappeared. That's all right. You saw the ambulance go up to the other end of the track a little while ago. Yes. Somebody knocked Francie Pritchard cold. Jeffrey. The lion, did Miller leave his box before or after that? Right. Right, it was afterwards, Jeffrey. Yeah, after Francie was hit. Yeah, well, maybe that fifth. Hey, hey, hey. Hey, Jeffrey, I'm not sure I'd follow you. Listen, lion, I got to get back to Dick Elcox's car for the race. Yeah, but, Jeffrey. I had to find Miller. Jeffrey, I told you he's not here. Yeah, but wherever he is, find him, lion. It's important. And it's all right. Hurry up, Mr. Regan. We'll get rolling in 20 or 30 seconds. Got a crash helmet for me, Dick? Yeah, here. Okay. And belt yourself into the seat. Sure. Anything I can do during the race? Well, this is the fire extinguisher clipped here under the wheel post. We crack up and get pinned in the car. I get the picture. When we get the signal, we go into a roll in low gear. The whole field. When we hit the start and get waved into the race, we run the gear. Then hold high, wide open. Yeah. Where is he sounding swell? Maybe we'll win the race, Mr. Regan. Maybe if we finish it. Line of hopped-up gelops moving in low toward the start. Car next to the Jennifer B, close. Driver hunched under white crash helmet. Goggles covering half his face. But you could see the driver was Salvatore Marino. Marino turned and yelled at Elcock. I'm going to crash, you dick, or what you did to Branson. Before Elcock could answer, we hit the start of the race. We hit the first turn in the pack. Cars bouncing together, jarring each other. The pack was solid up the backstretch. Began to spring out, going into the second lap. Jennifer B was low to the track, skidding under the slewed-up dirt. You smelled scorched oil. You jerked and snapped in your bucket seat. Fourth lap. Half a dozen liters to clear the pack. Elcock, Marino, Jimmy Pritchard, two or three others. Marino, Pritchard, Elcock's Jim for BI was riding in tight together, bunched. Then all of a sudden, Marino shot ahead. It's got it, like Sal said. What's got what? Sal's your love. Look at him pull out. Hey, Marino slagging up. Mr. Regan, we've got to get out of the car. Yeah. Yeah, that's right. My side's jammed against the rail. Marino drove us into the rail. Can we get out on your side? See if this door will open. No, no, it's okay. Let's get out. Watch our chance. It's not now. As soon as they get past. Okay. Inside, cars flashing by a foot or two from the smash truck, Jennifer B. Then Elcock and I made a break for it. Then we were in the infield. Safe. The funny thing, when we were safe, fear came. Gosh, that was close. It sure was. When you think of what could have happened, she could have caught fire. We could have. Oh, holy smoke, Mr. Regan. We might be dead now. Maybe your dad's not too far off the beam, Dick, wanting you to give up this Jalopy racing. Gee, I guess he sure isn't. And what's happened to Francie, too, because of this? Yeah, you didn't slug her, Dick. You love her. I do, Mr. Regan. Yeah, but what you said? Said maybe whoever slugged Francie did it because he loved her. Yes, Mr. Regan. Well, watch the race. The race? Watch Marino's car. Sal's way out ahead. Nobody will catch him now. Triple carb manifold deal sure soups up his crate. Triple carb manifold? Then unusual on a racing Jalopy? No, no, but Sal's worked out some improvements. Get simultaneous carburization. Events like that could be worth dope. Yeah, it could. Elcock, Miller knew about it. Yes, Mr. Regan. Dick. Huh? Watch car number seven. Pritchard? Pritchard. Well, Pritchard's dropping back out of the field. Well, let Salvatore Marino lap him, Dick. But why would he do that? Because his car's not fast enough to catch Marino. Sure I know that. He wants Marino alongside of him, Dick. Mr. Regan. Then Pritch. Pritch. Pritchard. Pranti's brother. You mean when Sal comes alongside of him? And we can't do a thing about it, Dick. But Pritch. Sure, Pritch. He conked his sister to keep her out of Marino's car during the race. I didn't think that Pritchard... You knew Miller was in it. Yes, Mr. Regan. Yeah, yes, I did. That was why you tried to block Marino out of the running in the prelim. You wanted to put him out of commission. You knew Miller wanted him smashed up. Pranti told me she heard him talk. You figured a little smash up in the prelim would be better than the big one in the main event. Because you thought Pranti would be riding with him. Yes. That was it, Mr. Regan. But why, Mr. Regan? Mr. Miller and now you say Pritch. What have they got against Salvatore? Nothing, Dick. Nothing? That's it. Nothing. But that doesn't make sense. Look, Dick. Marino's lapping Pritchard now. Pulling alongside him. Pulling alongside him. Mr. Regan. He's gonna crash him. Oh, no! You can see Pritchard now, Mr. Regan. Thanks, Doc. Well, Dick. Yes, Mr. Regan? Why don't you check the other hospital by phone while I'm inside? See how Pranti's coming along. Yes, Mr. Regan. Uh, this way, Doc. In here. Okay. It's gonna be all right. Oh, yes. Yes. Where are the other boys? Heard a little more seriously. He'll pull through it all, of course. Now, in this room. Just go on in, Mr. Regan. It's quite all right. Wait a second. The room's empty. What? Pritchard's run out. There was a fire stairs at the other end of the hospital corridor. One of the nurses had seen Pritchard going that way. Thought he was a patient, a loud up and around. I hit the stairs fast and got outside. There was a bumpy road circling the hospital grounds and a figure in a hospital bath broke 20 yards away, and I took off. All right, Pritchard. Stay back. Stay back. Still packing that ramming tool, huh? Convenient. Makes a difference. Possession of it easy to explain around hot rods. Okay, Pritchard. Use it. I'll kill you, Regan. And face a murder rap? Pritchard, you haven't got the nerve. Yeah? Sure I have. You better quit now with a jail sentence for assault. Well, put me up to it. Sure he did. Put you up to smashing up Salvatore Marino during the race. Put you up to it, but you did it, Pritchard. Didn't want frantic it. Get hurt, Pritchard. Yeah, I know. That makes you a notch better than Miller anyway. But it isn't saying very much for you, Pritchard. Pritchard dropped the ramming tool. I took him back to the hospital. I had a couple of interns guard him. Then I phoned the cops. Dick Alcott came up. He checked by phone on Francie. She was all right. So that about wrapped it up. Except for one little thing. Miller. The man bombed. The man behind the rod that picked off Salvatore. I went out to where my car was parked, and that was when I saw a blimp with crash helmet and goggles coming toward me. Jeffrey! Lion! Jeffrey! You seem surprised to see me. I'm on the case too, you know. Lion, where'd you get that thing? Is this hot rod, Jeffrey? Hot rod? That's a 1930 model. Yes, but with a 1947 engine, Jeffrey, imported and relieved special hair, intake manifold, stroke, de-stroke, piston popped up, flywheel chopped, baffles installed. Oh, you wouldn't believe it, Jeffrey, but this car does 130 miles an hour. You know that. I did it. Huh? Well, Jeffrey, it was like this. It began to appear that Mr. Miller was implicated in this case. Uh-huh, go on. And you asked me to find him, Jeffrey. So wherever he was. Sure. So realizing he had a head start, my boy, I borrowed a car from one of the spectators at the drag. Well, I found that Mr. Miller had taken the coast highway north, running away. That checks. He had one of those speedy, foreign cars, Jeffrey. It seems Mr. Miller has some quite considerable sorts of income. That checks too. Yes, I'm sure it does. Well, Jeffrey, Mr. Miller's car was very fast, but I just, uh, went through the gears, held high, wide open, and, uh... You caught Miller. Uh... No, Jeffrey. No. No, I got arrested in Malibu for speeding. Exceeding the speed limit by, uh, well, by 103 miles an hour, Jeffrey. 128 to 25 miles old. Lyon, do you realize it's Miller who was behind this whole case? Of course I do, Jeffrey. That is, I suspect it as much. He's been milking ideas from the kids around his track for months. Changing him around a little, marketing him is his own stuff. Then Salvatore Marino turned up a triple carburetor manifold, really worth money. You tripled the car? Yeah. Miller wanted the car it was in, smashed up, so it wouldn't get out. The idea was Marino. Oh, so that was it? And you do 128 through Malibu and let him get away. Oh, Mr. Miller didn't get away, Jeffrey. What? Oh, he was right ahead of me, so the police stopped him too. Not doing quite my speed, of course. They said he was only doing 107 in his foreign car. And when I told him a few things about him, Jeffrey, they locked him up. You mean that Miller? Yeah, that's right, Jeffrey. In the Malibu station. In a cell. Lyon, my boy? Sometimes you amazed me. Oh, now, now, Jeffrey, it was nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing. Nothing at all. Jeff Regan, investigator, is written by William Frug and William Pfeifield, produced and directed by Sterling Tracy and stars Paul Dubava's Regan with Frank Nelson as Anthony J. Lyon. Original music is by Dick Aaron. Jeff Regan, investigator, is heard each week at the same time over CBS. Bob Stephenson speaking, inviting you to be with us again next Wednesday at 9 for more suspense and mystery and adventure with Jeff Regan, investigator.