 The Adventures of Frank Race, starring Tom Collin. The war changed many things. The face of the earth and the people on it. Before the war, Frank Race worked as an attorney. But he traded his law books for the cloak and dagger of the OSS. And when it was over, his former life was over too. Adventure had become his business. The Adventures of Frank Race. Now we join Frank Race for the adventure of the Talking Bullets. Jones Beach in a portable radio. That's the only logical escape from a sultry summer night in the breathless heat of a Manhattan apartment. Lying there in the sand with Mark Donovan, I took my comfort and solace from the radio via one of the classic-mighted stations, which featured a fine pianist addicted to Beethoven. Look, I know it's hot enough for everybody to be dead, but we also gotta listen to this funeral music. Mark, there are times when I think you have no soul. And there are times when I think you've got no ears. This long-haired stuff whenever I'm out, anything. All you gotta do is tie that little dial and get some real music. Cab Calloway. You just touch that dial and I'll break your arm. Okay, okay, okay. If you don't want people to think you're a square, you better get... We interrupt this program for a special newsflash. Quiet, Mark. This evening, just a few... Oh, right. The prison officials finally released the story when local police disclosed that Judge Robin Dexter, who presided at Martin's trial and who sentenced the bank-hold-up killer to the electric chair, was found dead in his chambers at the courthouse just a few moments ago. At the time of his sentence, Martin swore in the courtroom that he would escape and kill the judge and jurymen and the witnesses who appeared against him. Stay tuned to this station for further development. All right, Mark, turn it off. The brother that Blackie Martin is sure not to pay off. He ain't wasting no time. No, he isn't. It means a lot of people wouldn't be sleeping tonight, even if it was cool. Now, would that guy have come? He said he'd get his wife to turn it against him and grame the columnist and... Holy cow-race. Yo, yo, he said he was going to kill you too by bringing a man. Yes, Mark. I'm sure I'm right up near the top of Blackie Martin's list. He'd better drive me home. A man already convicted of murder doesn't have much to lose. I kept thinking of that as Mark drove me back to town. Martin had strangled a banked night watchman and another life or two. Either way, it wasn't going to make much difference to him. But by the time I got home, most of my thoughts concerned the pleasure of sleep. Welcome home, Grace. My uninvited guest receded comfortably in an armchair in an open window. He appeared to be completely relaxed, except for his right hand, just clasping a 45 very tightly and I could see the blue veins pulsing in his cleansed fist. Surprise, Grace. Well, not exactly Blackie. Radio has been giving your exploits complete coverage. I didn't like it up the river. You shouldn't have been so impatient. You were going out tonight anyhow. I'm the lazy type. I'd want to walk that last mile. It's too warm to be electrocuted. You may find it even warmer here. There's a drag net out for you all over town. I'm not in it yet. Stop bedging near that desk if you want to sit down. Sit over there. Or I can watch you. Thanks for the hospitality, even if it is my own home. I want some information, Grace. Where's my wife a little ahead? I don't know. I haven't seen her since your trial. She isn't singing any of the clubs around town, not any of the ones she used to play. I'll be checking them on the phone while I'm waiting for you. I got something to settle with that day. I understand she plans to get married again, Blackie, until you're eliminated. Right, or someone else. What are you giving me? She's been seen around with Walker Graham, the columnist who covered your trial. Who said that? That's why she spilled the story of that bank job to the yellow paper he works for. What's that? Don't get into that gun. It's only the phone. All right. The use of the sound. There's no phone service at that hotel up the river. All right. All right. That's right. Be careful. Hello. Hi, Grace. You hear the latest news report? I know, Mark. What is it? I just want to let you know so you can sleep good, see? You don't have to worry about Blackie Martin. That's very interesting, Mark. Yeah, yeah. The cops have got the courthouse district bottle up tight, see? And they sure he's still in there someplace, or not? You'll worry, pal. Yes, see. Thanks. I'm feeling a bit faint until you reassured me. Mark, did you ever finish that mail-order course you were taking on hypnotism? What a fight. I was just wondering if you could give me some instructions on how to hypnotize a man with a 45 automatic in his hand. Oh, well, you'll look him right... I warned you, Grace! Hello, Grace! Grace, come on, snap on me. You all right? Yeah, it feels like I have two heads. Yeah, but I'm alive. Well, what happened? What happened? I tried to tip you on the phone and he sandbagged me. Oh, brother, it's a wonder he didn't try to polish you off. That would have made his score three for the night. Three? Yeah. You mean there's been a second murder? Yeah, that's right. He just found a step. He heard it on the air, driving over here. What did he get? Nobody in the list. There's an old lady, a Mrs. Chekowsky or something like that. A scrub woman on the fourth floor of the courthouse. Found her in a broom closet shot, just like Judge Dexter was. Well, she must have heard the shot in the judge's chambers and went in to investigate. Oh, she saw it a killer in a hall, and he knocked her off before she could raise a howl. Mark, call one of the news commentators and find out where Mrs. Chekowsky lived and if she had any family, then you can drive me out there. But, Ray, she wasn't connected with the trial. She was just an innocent bystander who got it in her neck. I know, Mark. That's why I'm curious. Very curious. There are some people who die without reason. Mrs. Chekowsky, the old scrub woman, had been one of them. Talking to her daughter wasn't easy. But why? Why would anybody want to hurt my mother? You never hurt nobody. She was a good woman. I'm sorry, Mr. Chekowsky, but other people are in danger too. I need your help to protect them. What can I tell you? What do you want to know? All about your mother, who she knew, any friends, enemies, anything. Could you have enemies? She worked all night scrubbing in the courthouse, everything she came to this country. And in the daytime, she would sleep or stay around the house always. Well, she had no friends at work? I don't know. Nobody who ever came here. I don't think so. Why not? Well, she couldn't speak nor English. You see, we always talk Polish at home. Oh, but you speak English well, am I? My father brought me here when I was 12 years old. A month. She only came from the old country four months ago. Only four months ago? Yes. When my father died, I sent out his insurance money to come here. And she went to work in the courthouse. That's all there is, that's all I know. Naturally, your mother couldn't read or write? No. Not even in Polish. She had no education at all. Why? Why did they let that man escape to kill my mother? It's one of the answers I'm looking for, Mr. Koskima. Because I don't think Blackie Martin killed your mother. I don't think he's killed anybody. Yet. Grace, it's all right for you to have a heart seat. But when you tell me that you don't think Blackie Martin has anything to do with their murders at their courthouse, well, it don't make sense. Well, there are a lot of things about this case that don't make sense, right? But, Grace, you always told me a murder's got to have a motive. Now you tell me, tell me, who else had a motive for knocking off the judge? Answer that, huh? I can't answer that at the moment. Right now, I want to make sure that all the possible victims are alerted. Oh, I made up a list of their names and addresses while you was in there. I'll take you to the places one by one. And this house up the block should be our first stop. Who lives here? Uh, let me see. Timothy, I'll always wish you so, Brian. He was the foreman of the jury. Come on in with me. The house is dark, Grace. It's midnight, you know. Just the same, or Brian should go to the police and ask to be taken into protective custody until this is over. Ring the bell. No sign of life. Maybe you already went to the cops. Well, let's make sure. Hey, hey, hey, that did it. Oh, light one on the back of the hall. Well, Brian sleeps the deep sleep of the pure of heart, considering his place on a list of people who might never wake up again. Here he comes now. Oh, what do you want? My name is Ray's. Blackie Martin's escaped from prison and you may be in danger. I want you to go to the police station and stay there until he's caught. Can you walk me up from that? Look what the police want to protect me. Let him send a man over and he can sleep on the doorstep. All right, Brian. I can't force you in to it, but don't open the door so easily if anybody else should come calling tonight. I'll be so sound asleep I won't even hear him, man. Good night. Good night. Good night. He's Irish. You better drive me to the precinct station house, Mark. I'll ask them to send a man over right away. I wish I knew where to find Blackie's wife Lola though. I'm sure she's number one in his hit parade. Oh, maybe she's singing in one of the smaller joints, huh? Hop in. We can make the rounds of a few spots later on in. Hey, what was that? Shards from certain houses. Come on. Knocking won't help this time. Smashing in parade. Better must be back here with the lights went on before. This must be it. No. Light a match, will you, Mark? Yeah. It was a bad race. Right through the chest, Mark. He was dead. Hey. I'll eat something more. It does the match. Look out, Mark! We'll return to the adventures of Frank Race in just about one minute. Now back to the adventures of Frank Race. One of the bullets had hit, Mark, and he fell in front of me, blocking my dive for the bulge behind the drapes. By the time I recovered, the person responsible for the murder of O'Brien was gone. I picked Mark up, piled him into his cab. My speed picked up a cruising motorcycle cop, and in a matter of seconds, he was transformed into a flying escort for city emergency hospital. I'm sorry you stopped that bullet, Mark. It was meant for me. It's all right. Better mind shoulder than your head, Frank. Look at Blackie when he fires. No. He got clean away. At least you should wash up your idea that somebody else might be doing a killing. Judge Dexter and O'Brien, that ties up with only one guy. That guy's Blackie, Mark. It does narrow the field down, but isn't Blackie and somebody else connected with the case? There's one big question that still needs an answer. What's that? Blackie had me called Turkey at the apartment, and I'm on his list. Why didn't he pay me off? Well, maybe he passed you up once, but he just tried to make up for it. And you better make sure he doesn't kill you when you're trying to prove he didn't kill the others. Here's the hospital. Let's ask him. With the aid of the motorcycle cop and a young doctor, I got Mark into the operating room. I showed the cop my credentials and explained the setup. He left to make a report while the doctor went to work on Mark. Hey, lay off the eighth if you can, Doc. It makes me sick. All right, we'll try a local. Put your clothes away. Mark, try to think. In driving around town, haven't you seen some sign of Lola Martin singing someplace? No. No, I wish. Maybe she changed her name, huh? Lola Martin? I guess, Doctor. Do you ever hear of her? No. There's a girl named Lola singing at the tiger room. I hang out at the interns' frequent over on 10th Avenue. Yeah, right hand on the, um, curvaceous side? On the curvaceous side, all right. But a blonde that could be peroxide, though. Ready for the needle? Yeah, I'm ready for you, uh... It'll take hold in a second. We can probe for that slug. Oh, brother. That's Lola at the tiger room, right? She better get going. You still got some time. No, waiting till the doctor finishes with you. How's the show feel now? I'm good. It's gonna hurt you so many, huh? Yeah, go ahead. All right, almost got it. Hold tight. There it is. Mark, Mark boy. He's passed out from that, that's all. Here's a slug. 38 caliber. Well, so it is. My hunch is paying off. What's that? The last I saw of Blackie Martin, he was carrying a 45. Tell my friend that when he comes to... Some of the patrons of the tiger room look like interns, but the rest look like they might be in the business of turning decent citizens into ambulance cases. The singer on the floor was Lola Martin, all right. She was just finishing a song, so I took a seat at a corner table. Uh, hello, race. Well, Walker Graham, the Manhattan Tatler. What brings an ace columnist to this den of an ecudame? I'm worried about Lola with Blackie on the loose. You ought to do some personal worrying. Tip your printed was one of the things that helped send Blackie on that one-way trip. At least it was supposed to be one-way. I know it, but... What about you? You brought him in. Yes, but I didn't start wooing his wife as soon as they threw him in the cooler. I can't leave Lola without protection. I'll see that she gets home safely. Would you race? Sure. I hope you don't think it's yellow of me to take a powder. The blue isn't important. She'll be back here in a moment. Tell her I got an important call, will you? Sure. I'll tell her you went to play ping-pong with Blackie. Yeah, yeah. Well, thanks, race. Don't mention it. Mr. Race, how nice. Where was Walker heading in such a hurry? I think he heard the grim reaper swishing his sickle. Would you sit down? Thanks. Order me a pink lady, will you? Waiter. Pink lady for the... My name. And now, a cigarette? You like my wristwatch? Walker Graham usually takes care of these little things. Not that you are in a pleasant substitute. You flatter me. Walker became quite attentive after Blackie's trial. But you're the one I was hoping I'd see again. If you want to see anybody again, you'd better take yourself out of circulation until Blackie's taken back into custody. I can't. Want me to tell you why? All right, Race. Why? Because the money that Blackie stole was never recovered. You and Walker Graham have it stashed away someplace. You've got to be out moving around to make sure that neither Blackie or the police get to the money. You're smart, Race. But this town is too hot for Blackie to be on the loose much longer. There are a lot of people he wants to get to. I'll take a chance that he doesn't get to me before he's caught. I've got news for you, Lauren. You're Blackie's number one target. He isn't going to bother with anybody else until he gets to you. That isn't what the news reports tell me. He's killed crazy. If you mean Judge Dexter and the Bryant Count Blackie out, he didn't kill him. Who told you that? A murdered scrub woman. Because if Blackie had killed the judge, Mrs. Jekosky would still be alive. Why? I suppose she caught him there. She could be a witness against him. A man already convicted of a murder wouldn't be afraid of a witness to a second murder. Mrs. Jekosky wasn't even in this country when Blackie was convicted. What are you trying to prove? That she wouldn't have been able to even recognize him. She couldn't read. She couldn't have read about him. So? So whoever she saw leaving the judge's chambers was somebody she'd seen before. Somebody she knew. Like me, for instance. You saw Judge Dexter after the trial? You'd visited him a couple of times. I had dinner with him. There's no law against them. No. But you were known around the courthouse. I don't have to listen to you, race. And only a moment ago you were so happy to see me. I hope Blackie sees you next. I really hope so. Good night, Mr. Race. Hello, Martin. He's talked out of me before I could stop her, so I called her to leave us. A police lieutenant friend of mine who happened to be in charge of the manhunt for Blackie Martin. I told him where he could locate Lola when I went home and turned in. I slept fitly until... Come on, come on, come on, Race. Wake up, wake up, will you? Oh, you look happy, my perforated friend. How's your shoulder? Fine, fine. And I am getting a chuck, a lot of having to laugh on you for a change. Look at this newspaper extra which I just picked up. Well, you know I can never focus my eyes before breakfast. What's it say? It says that you are wrong about Blackie Martin. He shot and killed his wife Lola in the Times Square subway station at 2 a.m. this morning, in front of 20 eyewitnesses. Let me see that, Mark. Sure, have at it. So he finally paid her off. That's what it says, Maestro. And furthermore, there was just a flash on the radio. The police have Blackie staked out in an empty warehouse over by the waterfront. Let me jump into some clothes and you can drive me over there. All right. Here we are, race. This is the finish for Blackie. Let's walk with Graham. Come on. Hello, Graham. Oh, hello, uh, hey, race. Well, you got Lola after all. I know. I'm sorry. We're gonna be married. I guess this winds it up, though. Won't hurt anybody else. Where is he? In the cell of that building. It's full of storage bins and he's got the doorway covered. They've sent for equipment to smoke them out. Who's in charge? Lieutenant Alibis. Here he comes now. Hello, Graham. Race. Hello, Lieutenant. Hello, Ed. Looks like you're having a little trouble. Well, I could get him if I had to, but why should I risk losing a man? He can't get out. What are the orders? Shoot, kill? I don't like it, but that's it. He's dangerous. Ed, now, why don't you do me a favor? Pull back your police line to the other side of the street and let me go in after. Are you tired of living, race? Oh, you know I'm not an idiot, Ed. I'm playing a hand. Well, all right, race. I'll chip in with you. Sergeant, sergeant, come on, move those men back. All right, move back there. Well, there you are, race. It's all yours. No, no, no, don't do it, race. He'll kill you for sure. What a column this'll make. Well, you see, Mark? You wouldn't want a spoiled Graham's column, would you? See you later. No, no, I'll wait. This is Frank Race, Black Ham. I'm coming down to talk to you. You miss me, Black Ham. I've been and you can't see me any better than I can see you. There's no light when that door closed. I'll find you and I'll kill you. Maybe, but you're a cinch to die on here unless you listen to me. I'm listening. Go on, talk. Here's my proposition, Black Ham. I want you to... Hey, he's been down there a long time. I'm afraid Blackie got him as he went through the door. Smoke will put when I see him now. Hey! More shots! Hey, look! Solid door, it's moving. Get that door covered, man. Hold your fire up there, Ed. Race. All right, nice work, race. Come out. Hold that prowl back there, man. Hey, look, look. Lookie, he got Blackie's carrying him out. Get this body into the warehouse office, Ed. Right. Come on, gentlemen. You can come in, too, Graham. And call your paper. You. Boy's heavy. Dump him here until the wagon comes. Thanks for a great story, Race. I'd better call before deadline. Yeah, hold it a minute. The story is bigger than you think. What do you mean? Who would a man try to kill first, Graham? A judge who was only doing his job or a wife who double-crossed him? Well, I guess Lola was the main one, but he got to the others first. No, he didn't. Because Blackie didn't kill the others. The person who killed the others had to kill Mrs. Jokowski, too, because she recognized him. It was somebody who went to the courthouse every day. Somebody like you, Graham. Covering the beat for your paper. What motive would I have for killing Judge Dexter? Because you thought he was wise to you and Lola. That's why she was shining up to him. And you figured the other murders would make the police redouble their efforts to get Blackie and shoot him on sight. I think you haven't got a shred of proof, Race. Not yet. But I think you have the proof on him. 38 caliber gun, the gun that killed three people. It seemed like he Martin's gun was a 45. All right, jeez. Here's a gun. I'll move back all of you. Not that gun, Graham. I said move back, Lieutenant. I know how to use this. Let's be smart, Lieutenant. Do like the man says. I'm going out that door. Don't try to stop me. Well, don't leave without saying goodbye to Blackie. He's right behind you. And he still has that 45. Dead men don't worry me, Race. I ain't so dead. I should go! That gun, Graham, before I put a slug through you. Nice going, Blackie. Now you might as well give the gun back to me since it isn't loaded. Why, you tricky fellas. I was hoping you'd try that. Well, Race, we won't have much trouble taking him in. Thanks, Blackie, that you still have a date with the electric chair yourself. I'm ready. I don't mind now. As long as I know that Graham is going to be frankly sitting in my lap when they turn on the juice. I went on down in the cellar, Race. I knew Graham was guilty. I knew Blackie didn't want to die and let Graham get away. So I sold him on this little act. Oh, brother, for my money you get the Academy Award. Thanks, Mark. Well, let's get this unconscious ask into the police station. Lovely hot day. No, I'll never catch up in my sleep. The Adventures of Frank Race starring Tom Collins with Tony Barrett as Mark Donovan comes to you from Hollywood. Others heard in tonight's cast were Lillian Baev, Michael Ann Barrett, Mark Lawrence, Lou Krugman, and Dick Ryan. This series is written and directed by Buckley Angel and Joel Murcott. The music is composed and played by Ivan Dittmarve. Be sure to be with us again this time next week for another dramatic chapter in The Adventures of Frank Race. Art Gilmore speaking. This is a Brucells production.