 Standard of California, on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations, and standard stations throughout the West, invites you to let George do it. Another adventure of George Valentine. Personal notice, danger is my stock and trade. If it's so far over your head, you can't even reach it with a skyhook. You got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. Dear Valentine, here's a laugh, a private dick for them for that screw we had of yours. The name is Joe Logan. We ran across each other a couple of times, but that's not important. Here's the deal. I'm eating somebody at the half moon motel a night. I'm not the sensitive type, but something about this rings phony. So if you read about me in the obituary column tomorrow, I want you to cry murder. Good and loud. And close with a hundred bucks. A hundred bucks for your trouble. I hear my sweet gravel voice over the phone before noon tomorrow. Forget the whole thing and buy yourself a drink. Signed Joe Logan. I'm not buying that angel, it's too pat. Joe Logan knocked off by a hit-and-run driver last night of all nights. Yeah, but don't forget it says here that Mr. Logan had his customary snoop full when he was clipped by that car on a deserted stretch of Whitman Highway. And not too far away from the half moon motel. Better put your ear stoppers in, Bruxy. Yeah, I'm gonna cry bloody murder the way my client wanted it. Good and loud. Look, Valentine, I don't want to be anti-social, but the only thing I've got eyes for this morning is a report just sent in. Frank Potter, prominent banker and philanthropist was murdered. How about one Joseph Logan? I think he was murdered, too. You think but this I know. Frank Potter was murdered. And he happened to be a close friend of the police commissioner. Oh, yes, sir. And the commissioner doesn't like his fringe being bumped off unless I can produce the miscreant five minutes later. So call me tomorrow. Oh, that's a fine attitude, Lieutenant. The only safe way to get murdered in this town is to be a friend of the commissioners. Now look, Miss Brooks, why don't we talk this over on my day off when I can afford to be a gentleman? Right now I want... Now what? Yes, Riley? Man, okay, I'm on my way out there now. What's that? What's the name of that place? Go on, go on, I'm listening. And you say this Mrs. Cronin identified the man she saw with Potter? Okay, Sergeant. Okay, I'm as good as they're right now. Well, Brooksy, I guess they're too busy for us today. Yeah. We'll be back, Lieutenant, when this storm is over. No, you don't, Valentine. You're not leaving here. Oh, what's the matter with you anyway? Do you know where Frank Potter was murdered? Look, I'm not my usual psychic self this morning. Where? The Half Moon Motel. George! Go on, Lieutenant. Yes, the Half Moon Motel and the dame out there, a Mrs. Cronin, identified your client, Joe Logan, as the man who did the killing. I'm surprised, Mr. Valentine, the police didn't get around to me yet. Any time now, Maggie, they know that in a racket like Logan's, the secretary knows more about a boss than anybody else in the world. Maggie, don't you have any idea what Mr. Logan might have been afraid of last night? I just know that Joe's death was no accident. I didn't even know he wrote that note. Not that it matters to Logan now, but that letter to me puts him right there in the Half Moon Motel with Potter. Why does it? Joe had other clients. Whenever he didn't want to meet somebody here at the office, he'd call up the Half Moon Motel. I know the police would love to pin this on Joe, but I'm not going to let them off. I'll cut it, Maggie. Let me have that. What? Yeah, that page from the appointment period. You're too nervous for any sleight of hand today. Eight o'clock, Frank Potter, Half Moon. Oh, so you knew he was going to meet Mr. Potter, didn't you? All right, I did. But Joe didn't kill anybody. All right, maybe I believe it. But that's not good enough, Maggie. You've got to make sure. Now, what about the deal your boss had with Potter? I don't know anything about it. Oh, you don't, huh? Okay, come on, Bruxy. We're wasting our time. Wait. You want to play this hand face up with me? It's the truth. I don't know what Potter wanted with Joe. Or perhaps what Joe wanted with Potter? Whichever way it was, but they did have a quarrel right here in the office yesterday morning. That just makes the case stronger against Logan. I couldn't hear what they were fighting about. Finally, Potter slammed out of here in a rage. I see. Just one more point. Let's face it. The medical examiner reported that Joe was a little more than slightly crocked when that car aside swiped him. Joe never drank so much. He didn't know what he was doing. Just the same. How about a list of his favorite bars? It might help if I knew where he was before he went to meet Potter. Joe's favorite bars? How do you want them? From A to Z? Oh, George, can't you see she's all upset? Could have been Johnny's place yesterday at City Hall. Or Chris's on West Laredo Street. Or could have been... Mort's Paddock Bar and Whitman Highway? What's that, Bruxy? Look at this book of matches in the ashtray. Mort's Paddock Bar, where good sports meet. Yes, that's another place Joe used to like to sit and talk to Mort. Whitman Highway. That's on the way to that motel. And Mr. Logan was run down on Whitman Highway. Yeah. See you later, Maggie. Well, Mr. Valentine, should I be fall-flying? Oh, by all means, Mort. If it was anybody else, Mr. Logan, I would have said he was well under the influence when he left my place last night. But seeing it was, Mr. Logan, what would you say? Well, you see, he's one of those good-looking strapping men who will, you know, just get convivial, so to speak. Well, that's a nice way of putting it, Mort. You know something, Miss? Mr. Lohan's going to leave an empty place at my bar. You know, he was a swell talker. I picked up a lot of new words from him. Yes, I guess you'd say Mr. Logan was epigrammatic to repartee. That poor fellow. Yeah, I see what you're trying to say. But tell me, Mort, what time did he leave here last night? No, about eight, I'd say. Before or after eight? Well, couldn't be sure, but he did say he was leaving his car in my parking lot. He got back. Well, didn't he say where he was going? No, Miss, but it must have been there here because he said he was going to walk it. Ironica, listen, just this time when he decides not to use his car, he meets up with a pedestrian's face. Just ironical, Mort, it's more than that. Now, you see right out that window? Down the highway a couple of hundred feet. That's where it all happened, on the right-hand side there. Just by that first telephone pole. Ah, poor fellow. Okay, thanks a lot, Mort. You've been a great help. I'm afraid I didn't have very much to say. What you did, believe me. Well, dropping again, always lying to talk to people. Well, darling, do I ask questions or are you going to let me in on the braiding storm? Take another look down the highway, Brooke. What do you see? A pretty highway. Credit to the state. One lane going east, the other going west. An island of trees in the middle. Ah, huh? Ah, huh? You're self. I see what you mean. Yeah. Joe Logan left the panic bar and started to walk down the highway on the right-hand side, walking toward the half-moon motel. Not away from it. Well, if you're right, George, Logan never even got there to kill Potter. Which should simplify things for us, but doesn't. I've got to hunt you ever kill Potter, ran Logan down. Yeah. Well, what next? Well, I understand there's a Mrs. Potter. Have a talk with the Brooksie, huh? See if she knows what business her husband had with Logan. OK, where'll I meet you? Back at the office. In the meantime, I'm going to scrape up an acquaintance with this Mrs. Cronin, who swears she saw Logan at the half-moon motel. Look, Bob, since you ain't a dick, beat it. I got business with Mrs. Cronin. So have I, going boy. I said beat it. You leave this to me, Sheila. Are you getting out of this doorway or do I have to step over you? Look, you do as I told you. So I step over you. You know how to make an impressive entrance, don't you? I'll think I'm forgetting this, mister. If you do, I'll be glad to refresh your memory. Oh, you shouldn't have done that to Charlie. After all, he's just a bookie trying to squeeze out a living. Well, from all these racing forms around, you seem to be one of his best customers. I owe him $3,000 just for yesterday. And Charlie's getting a little impatient. You don't have $3,000 on you, have you? Just a few pennies, shall I? Now, Mrs. Cronin. If you were to call me Sheila, what would I have to call you? Well, that depends on your vocabulary. After I called you alive. I liked you the moment you came in. Can I get you a drink? You didn't see Joe Logan here last night, did you? Strange how it happened. I just looked out the window and there he was in that cavern across the court. How come you knew Logan at all? What did you ever have to do with him? I needed a private detective once. Someone told me about Joe. What kind of a deal was it? Strictly confidential. Had nothing to do with this. The police let it go at that. Why don't you relax? You're still lying, Sheila. Whatever you say, George. No one who could afford to lose $3,000 a day would jungle up in a cheap motel like this. Oh, you're so understanding, dear. But why don't you forget it? It'd be easier if I knew how come you were here so conveniently to identify Logan. That was just an accident. I'm supposed to be with a girlfriend in Seattle. That's what my husband thinks. Oh. I gamble too much. Just like other people do other things too much. Once in a while, I take a room like this and splurge. Bet on anything. Bet all the time. The bigger the odds against me, the better. It's in my blood. It's like a disease. Must be an expensive disease. Oh, poor darling. I talk too much, don't I? I want you to make me forget that I never win. I bet you can do that. What odds do you want? That's very nice, Sheila. But not good enough. What better odds do you want? Oh, thanks. Now that you've cleared the air, we can get back to business. Oh, Georgia, I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you? What time did you tell Lieutenant Riley that you saw Logan? Eight o'clock. How come you're so sure? Well, Charlie just phoned to give me the result of the last dog race in Miami. I haven't noticed the time. You're not still angry with me. You want a bet? You're not leaving. Sorry, Sheila, I expect to be a very busy boy. I'm George. First a phony accident, then a number. A murder. And now you. Yes. You're going all out to make me stop wondering if you frame Logan. And somehow I think it all ties together. Now all I gotta do is prove it. We'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine in just a moment. Meanwhile, a word about a very important matter of motoring. If your car's battery has been acting like a mule, temperamental and bulky, here's an easy way to cure it. Have your battery serviced at a standard station or independent chevron gas station. They'll inspect the water level, cables, terminal clamps and test the battery's condition. And they'll be frank. If it just needs a charge, they'll tell you. If your battery's really on its last legs, they'll explain how a new Atlas battery can save you money. Every Atlas battery has its certified power capacity stamped on the case where you can read it. And you'll find these capacities meet or exceed standards set by the Society of Automotive Engineers. The longer lasting starting power of Atlas batteries, by the way, is backed by a written warranty honored everywhere by 38,000 Atlas dealers. Independent chevron gas stations and standard stations are glad to service your battery, proud to offer you an Atlas battery when you need one. That's why they say, and mean, we'll take better care of your car. And now back to tonight's adventure of George Valentine. A private detective of all people mails you $100 and tells you to cry murder if he's among the missing tomorrow morning. Sure enough, the gentleman, one Joe Logan, is run down by a car during the night. Then a prominent banker is found dead in a cheap motel and an incredible blonde who prides herself on betting on anything puts the finger on your dead client as the murderer, all of which makes you decide to ask Joe Logan's secretary a few more important questions. Come on, Maggie, think. What truck did Logan have with Sheila Cronin? It was just a routine case, Mr. Valentine. It was more than a year ago. Nothing involving that hot tip addict could be routine. She's too far out of this world. Now, let's have the facts. Well? I suppose he did go out with her a couple of times she kept after him. Was it serious enough to make Sheila feel she was the woman scorned? Make her want to frame Logan? Joe could never be serious about any woman. There were too many of them. All right, so it was a case and over. What about the case? The insurance company hired Joe to investigate Mrs. Cronin when some of her jewels were stolen. Everything proved to be on the up and up. Joe was only on the case a couple of days. That doesn't give me much. That hot-eyed blonde is the key to this fancy frame-up. But why? That's what I got to find out. You wanted to know about Mrs. Potter? Yeah. Joe never had her for a client. I even look through all his personal papers. Which also gets us nowhere. Unless Brooksy comes up with something on Mrs. Potter? Mrs. Brooks, can't you see I'm dressing to go out? Oh, I just thought Mrs. Potter, that since your husband had some dealings with Joe Logan, you might know something about him. I told you. I never heard of Joe Logan. Anyway, what right have you to question me like this? I just thought you might be interested if it might help solve Mr. Potter's murder. I'm sure the police are doing all they can about it. Well, you might make it easier for them if you tell them all you know about Logan. It makes you so sure I know this. Whoa. This Joe Logan. He was killed, you know. Well, that's just too bad. But he's not the first man to be knocked down by a hit-and-run driver. Now, get out. Oh, then you did know Joe Logan. What? Well, that's pretty obvious. There are only a few lines in the paper about his hit-and-run accident. Not the sort of thing you'd remember about a stranger. You know, Miss Brooks, I should have obeyed my first impulse and had the butler throw you out. All right. I hired Joe Logan once. Why didn't you tell that to the police when they questioned you? He has no bearing on this case. Does that satisfy you, Miss Brooks? Oh, not quite, but it's a good beginning. Well, I won't keep you any longer. I know you're anxious to get out and celebrate. What did you say? Get out of here. Go on. Get out. Good work, Angel. I don't know what it means, but Mrs. Potter must have a good reason for denying that she knew Logan. Well, it's hard to know what she's thinking. Vivian's a cold dish with a memorized smile. A friend Logan seems to have gone in for females who insist on being characters. Anyway, why can't we find any record of this deal with Mrs. Potter? Maybe it's something you just don't put down on paper, huh? Could be, Brooksy. Well, all we know up till now is that Potter and Logan had a quarrel. Yeah, that's right. Both Sheila and Vivian were Logan's clients at one time or another. I'll make something out of that if you can. Okay, Valentine, you said you want to see me? Well, Charlie, you're a good sport. I didn't think you'd show. That information you asked for over the phone, Valentine, I got it. Well... But how does it get me the three grand Sheila Crone and Osby? Look, Charlie, I'm not guaranteeing anything, but you'll stand a better chance at collecting if you play along with me. Oh, I don't know. Business is business, Charlie. Okay. I don't know why it's so important, but it was nine o'clock when I called Sheila about the last dog race in Miami. Sure it was an eight? Couldn't be. Races ain't over the longest nine. Now we know Sheila was lying. Yeah, but why? And what answers have we got if she just says I made a mistake? Now look, John, about the three grand... Talk to you later, Charlie. Right now I've got to get over to that paddock bar and see what use I can make of Mort Fish's guerrilla. There's what? Don't look shocked, Charlie. That just means love of conversation. Well, it's sure good to see you, Mr. Valentine. You know I was hoping you'd drop in. How are you, Miss? Hi, Mark. Say, look, you like to talk, Mort. I thought if we sort of sat around a while, you might remember something Logan said last night to get help us. Why didn't you tell me this morning that the police think Mr. Logan bumped off this ponder guy? Then, ironically, like mean up with an accident. Oh, you found out, huh? Oh, sure. White's in the evening papers, Miss. And piling irony on irony. Yeah. Look what happens to here right here in my own bar tonight. Did you ever see anything so, well, a fortuitous, you know? You know, look, you know who's sitting down there in the number one booth all by herself? No, who, Mort? White's Porter's young wife. She's driving her sorrows with champagne cocktails, except she doesn't look too unhappy if you ask me. Then you know Mrs. Potter. That's more of the irony, Miss. She used to come in here with Mr. Logan. Oh, hey, now we're getting somewhere. But that's not all. Two minutes after she comes in, that good-looking blonde from the half moon shows up. You know, the one who identified Mr. Logan recognized her from the pictures in the paper. You're on a popular bar here, Mort. Oh, just thanks. But it's mostly, of course, a location. Last bar on the highway for the next five miles. Don't be so modest, Mort. Say, would you mind keeping Miss Brooks entertained? Hey, but wait! I have got something else to tell you. I'll be right back, Mort. Oh, look at you. Now, George, I was just getting lonely. No, thanks. What I've got to say won't take that long. Besides, I've got to make another stop. Do you want a bet I can make it more interesting? Why did you lie about Logan? You never saw him at the half moon motel. He never reached there. I like my story better. The dog race is not over in Florida till nine. So I made a mistake. Why did you lie? Did somebody make you do it? I'm getting fed up with this place. Let's go somewhere else, George. Or did you frame Logan because he had something on you? Was that jewelry hold up a fake with Logan playing both ends against the middle? What are you talking about? I mean, get the insurance money and send you jewels. So you could pay off characters like Charlie the Bookie. You know something? I'm betting you could never prove that. Hey, where are you going? Tell me, Mrs. Prada, what kind of a job did you hire Logan to do for you? I made one slip today with your secretary. That's par for the course. Your husband was some 30 years older than you. You stood a lot to gain by his death. Go on, you're doing the talking. If Logan had anything to do with it, you'd want him out of the way, too, wouldn't you? Sorry, Mr. Valentine, but you bore me. Good night. Well, what'd you find out, George? Tell you later, Bookie. Hey, you didn't let me finish before, Mr. Valentine. What's that, Morton? You know, talking about quirks of faith. Last night, about a half hour before he left, I was right here at the bar, you know, with Mr. Logan. So you said. And who should come in from the short quick when helping Mr. Potter? Now, I know it was him from his pictures. Did you hear what they talked about? Oh, they didn't so much as converse. I don't think Mr. Logan even knew the guy. Oh, you must be wrong, Morton. Oh, you can be very right, which is something I want to talk to Riley about. Now, let's see if we can nail him before he leaves the half-moon motel. Why don't we take the car, George? Well, it's just a short walk, Angel. Yeah. Anyway, I have to have time to think. I'll make some sense out of this thing. So it doesn't sound too fantastic with tenant Riley. Hmm. Better keep to the side of the road, darling. Yeah. Brooke, see, when we get to the motel, call Maggie at home. Yes, George? Tell her to meet us at Logan's office. There's just one thing I want to clear up. Then I think we'll have this thing lit. George! Look out that car! Look out that car! This is what gravel tastes like. And that car was trying to run us down the same thing that happened to Logan. Yeah, and almost in the same place. A baby blue convertible, a big one. Say, I noticed that before. I parked on the lot next to the paddock bar. And that's where we're going right now. Tell me something, Morton. Hey, Mr. Valentine. In the short time I was away, did you notice whether Mrs. Potter or Mrs. Cronin left your place? I can't say with any exatitude, Mr. Valentine. Oh. But it seems I do remember both ladies being up and moving around. Of course we're crowding up now. Oh, thank you, George. Lieutenant Riley's going to stop by here and pick up the two, uh, ladies. And I left that message for Maggie that Logan's office and that baby blue convertible of Mrs. Potter's is still in the parking lot. Good, good. Now if we don't find out what really happened, we never will. Okay, Valentine, what's your story? The one we got says, uh, Logan killed Potter. And the commissioner likes that version too. Just a minute, Lieutenant. Oh, Brooksy. Hmm? Call into the outer office and see if Maggie's ready to take all this down. Okay, George. So you think this is a photo finish between me and Mrs. Potter? Is that it, George, dear? Lieutenant Riley, I've answered this man's questions all day. Do I have to go through this now? If you don't mind, Mrs. Potter, yes. You ready, Maggie? Okay. Okay, Riley, here's the way I see it. Joe Logan makes a deal with a woman who always needs money because she bets too much. Cooks up a deal with her to cheat the insurance company. Then blackmails it. But I didn't kill him. Logan also talks to a pretty young matron, much younger than her husband. So you think I'm pretty? Thank you, Mr. Allentine. She wants Logan to help her get rid of her husband without involving her and so she can still get a big chunk of his money. I discussed that with Logan. That's as far as it went. Keep going, Valentine. Well, a wonderful plan is born, Lieutenant. Somebody makes an appointment for Logan to meet Potter at the Half Moon Motel. When Potter arrives, he's murdered. Then Logan is deliberately run down on the road. And you know, Lieutenant, dead men tell Motel. Yes, that much, we know. Yes, do get to the point, George. Then enters what Mort would call the ironical touch. We're told that Logan and Potter had a violent quarrel the very day of the murder. Who should know better than the secretary who overheard it? Is that right, Maggie? That's right, Mr. Valentine. Then Mr. Potter does a very human thing. On the way to his appointment, which he knows he has to do with his wife, he stops in for a quick drink at Mort's bar. He stands almost next to Logan, but they don't say a word to each other because they've never met before. Ah, look, look. You've got to make more sense than this, Valentine, because I don't get it. Oh, you'll get this, Lieutenant. Why were we told there was a quarrel? Because that would supply the motive for Logan to kill Potter. And who'd know enough about Sheila to force her to place Logan at the motel when he wasn't there at all? A lot of questions, Mr. Valentine. How about some answers? Coming to that, Mrs. Potter, coming to that. But just one final question. If Logan were proved as your husband's murderer, who would be in the position to hold you up for the rest of your life? What? Someone who had the proof that you were dickering with Logan. Maybe you weren't talking murder, but it might sound like it. Getting all this down, Maggie? You've got that proof, haven't you? That's why you committed two murders. Maggie? Didn't you, Maggie? Yes. You've got your facts all straight, Mr. Valentine. They make a wonderful confession. Proof, Mr. Valentine, about life being ironical. What's that? Oh, George, I don't know if I can stand much more irony in one case. Well, just after you left, I mean after you asked me about Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Cronin, I checked with the waiters. They said neither one of the ladies left the place at all. And there you were, suspecting the both of them. Well, that's all cleared up now. Yeah, there was another lady who borrowed Mrs. Potter's car. And what? She tried to run us down. We were getting a little too close to the truth for her comfort. Hey, you know, folks, we've been through a whole lot together. Saying, uh, how about dinner tonight? With me, you know, on the house. Hey, how about that, Chrissy? Oh, I think that would be perfectly ironical. Good, good. Maybe we can stir up some exciting conversation. It gets awfully dull around this place sometimes. Dull. Oh, Mort, you can't mean that. So help me, Miss Brooks. I don't know why you're giving me that look of physicality. I'd be willing to bet there's not one car owner in a thousand who could lubricate his car thoroughly. For there are more than 20 vital wear points on the average car, and if most of us tried to find them, it would be pure guesswork. Even the expert lube men at the independent chevron gas stations and standard stations don't rely on experience alone when they grease your car. Instead, they follow a precise lubrication chart recommended by the manufacturer of your car. And they use RPM greases and oils, each one tailor-made to protect those key wear points. Tailor-made, too, to smooth out road shocks and give you easier riding. So for low-cost maintenance and better riding, get a lube job with RPM greases every thousand miles. Get it at a standard station or independent chevron gas station, where they say and mean, we'll take better care of your car. Next week, when you tune our way for another adventure of George Valentine, you'll hear Lieutenant Riley saying... Now, Valentine, you say your client was held up Tuesday night at 7 o'clock. Well, according to this report, the only crimes that took place in our fair city on Tuesday night were a pickpocket apprehended at 7th and Duncan, and... What's the matter, Lieutenant? I should have remembered myself. The Hafe murder, killer still at large, victim previously married to... Here. Here, Valentine, you can have the honor. You've earned it. The night's adventure of George Valentine has been brought to you by Standard of California on behalf of independent chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West. Let George do it stars Robert Bailey as George with Francis Robinson as Claire. Wally Mayer appears as Lieutenant Riley. The night story was written by David Victor and Herbert Little Jr. and directed by Don Clark. Also heard in the cast were Gloria Blondel as Sheila Cronin, Virginia Gregg as Vivian Potter, Betty Lou Gerson as Maggie, Dick Ryan as Mort, and Tony Barrett as Charlie. The music is composed and conducted by Eddie Dunsteader. Your announcer, John Heaston. Listen again next week, same time, same station to let George do it. This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System.