 Johnny Dahlah. Army Tillson, Mr. Dahlah. Tillson? Oh, I see what's my new toy, Mr. Tillson. Oh, what's the problem? I want to be sure we don't pay out a lot of insurance. What kind? Straight life. Well, how much, Mr. Tillson? $1 million. Sure can. Bob Redick, in the exciting adventures of the man with the action-packed expense account, American's fabulous freelance insurance investigator, yours truly, Johnny Dahlah. I'm admitted by special investigator Johnny Dahlah to the Tri-Mutual Insurance Company Limited Union Town Office. Following is an account of expenses incurred during my investigation of the wrong sign matter. It was late afternoon when Harvey Tillson called me. It was a good deal later before I could arrange for some awkward plane connections from Hartford and New York to Pittsburgh, PA. Plane fare is item one, $29.40. Because of a long stopover in New York, it was gone by the time we hit the landing strip at the greater Pittsburgh airport. Item two is a $1.70 for some early breakfast. And item three is the usual $50 deposit on a rental car. I took my time driving 45 miles down Route 5 to Union Town. And there I found that Tillson's office is in the Fayette Title & Trust Building, which also houses radio station WMBS. By way of killing time until Harvey got into his office, I talked to some of the boys there at WMBS, including Bill 3 years of the news bureau. Anything in my line ever happened around these parts, Bill? Uh, like maybe Mrs. John Stacey, mine at the desk, wasn't so natural after all? Well, now what does that mean? Oh, come on now, darling. Why else would Harvey Tillson send for somebody like you? What are you saying that she was murdered? Well, wouldn't you murder an old man like that for a million dollars in shirt? I mean, if you could make sure they'd never be able to pin it on you, wouldn't you? Well, now, Bill... Well, I mean, I... Don't mean you, darling. Oh, thanks. Just who do you mean? I mean, that new secretary, that's Danny Pringle. Mrs. Minor's secretary? Yeah. Yeah, Danny Pringle. Handled her correspondence, her investments for stocks and bonds, pay to bills, that sort of thing. He was the only person, darling, who could possibly know everything, and I do mean everything about all her affairs. And Danny Pringle? Yeah, and if he didn't somehow persuade her, um, for her to change her will, at the last minute, and leave everything to him, I'll leave my shirt initial to know. You, uh, know that Pringle pretty well, Miss? Well, I know all I need to, about him, put it that way, unless you have no proof that he killed Mrs. Minor. Proof? No. No, but figure it out, darling. Why would a smart cookie like him tie up with a discrepital dowager like her in the first place? Now, he's not one of these lottie-doll male secretary types, if you know what I mean. Believe me. Maybe she paid him well. Huh? I mean, she. Don't kid yourself. She was so tight-cisted. Why do you know that her niece, Dora, Dora Minor, that's her only living relative, that Dora's had to play housekeeper and nurse and everything else for the old lady all these years and for nothing? And all because it saves the old lady a few bucks not having to hire a nurse? And Mrs. Minor has left Dora nothing? Not according to this new will, they found. Everything, Dora, and most of it's the insurance. Everything goes to Danny Pringle. And you think he killed her for it, huh? And to keep it from going to Dora, who really deserves it? Oh, Bill. Uh, yeah. Too much. Yeah, right. Thanks, Rod. Uh, Bill. Tell me, what is your beef against Danny Pringle? You really want to know again? Nothing. Nothing at all? It's just that... Well, if he gets away with this, if he gets all that money... Well, it's wrong, that's all. And that's all, huh? Well, what do you mean by that? Anything else to tell me about this thing, then? No. No, plenty. But I've got to do a news broadcast by Monty Aaron just a minute. Yeah, sure. Don't let me keep you. Yeah, listen now, after you've seen Harp Tilson, uh... Well, maybe you'll want to talk some more about this, huh? Yeah. Yeah. Maybe I will. Yes, darling, you're right. Bill has been working hard to get this Danny Pringle held from murder. I see. Why? Well, I agree with him. Pringle had plenty of reasons for wanting her dead. He made no bones about it. The only reason we took a job with that container is old Krillin was in the hope of latching onto some of her money. Most of it's insurance. Yeah, so I understand. And now that we've found out that she'd suddenly made a new will cutting off her lease, Dora. Well, for Harp, is there any real evidence that Bill could be right that Pringle might have killed Mrs. Minot? Dr. Hugo Besson, one of the finest pathologists in this part of the country, examined the body and said that she died of natural causes. Oh? Doesn't Bill know that? He knows it all right. Then why does he keep on accusing Danny Pringle? Dora. What? Bill is going to rob the Dora Minot. You see what? Well, I knew what he said. That's right. Cutting off Dora. Yeah. Leaving me a stake. Mostly insurance to... Yeah, wait a minute. Well? In love with Dora Minot, in spite of the fact that he thought she was going to inherit a million bucks or so. Or because of it. Oh, now, darling. So didn't Bill have or think he had a good reason for wanting Mrs. Minot out of the way? Oh, now, wait a minute, Don. Are you saying that Bill Freese killed Mrs. John Minot to marry Dora and get his hands on the insurance? That's a possibility, isn't it? If. If what? Well, if Dr. Besson hadn't said that she died of natural causes. You could be wrong, couldn't you? Yes, I suppose so. Well, what are you planning to do? Right now, let's forget about murder for a minute. In a way, you've implied... No, no, I haven't implied a thing. But as long as Bill Freese thought Mrs. Minot was going to leave the insurance to her niece. And as long as Bill figured on marrying Dora. Still does, I'd say. He had just as much reason for wanting the old lady out of the way as Danny Pringle had. Right? Well, I suppose so. Unless. Unless, of course. Bill somehow knew that she had changed her beneficiary. Well, nobody knew about that new woman till the day Mrs. Minot died. Not even Dora? Not even Dora! You wouldn't know after all of the bulk of her money is in the insurance policy. The policy states that the beneficiary is to be the heir to her estate. As specified in her will. I see. She voted herself, by the way. Oh. Yep. She'd pecked it out on a typewriter all by herself. Then she'd signed it. Had it witnessed by a cleaning woman and her husband. And that was then. Could you have checked to see if it would hold up in court? Yes. I checked it out with an attorney at company expense. And that willed dollar had named only Dora. But now there's a new one. Yes. Naming Danny Pringle as the sole heir. It just doesn't make sense. Dora cared for her. Nurse turned wrong for years. Was the only person who deserved to sing for Mrs. Minot. So what if she ended up with a slap in the face? Where'd you find the new will? Dora found it. Where? In the safety deposit box at the bank. It was listed in both their names. Well, I thought those boxes would automatically seal when somebody died. Well, Dora dug into it before anyone else knew that her aunt was dead. Oh. Well, it sounds like she was going for the old lady's insurance too. Well, could you blame her? She deserved a dollar. Still does. Anyhow, when she found this new will, she was so upset by the way she was cut off with nothing that she brought it to me and asked what could be done about it. I had to tell her nothing. What I'd like to have done was tell her to burn it up and say nothing about it because it's wrong. The dollar is all wrong. Then don't tell me you're kind of sweet on Dora too. I am not, but I do believe in justice. Don't you see, unless this new will is a phony, a forgery, and it isn't, Daddy Pringle's going to walk off with over a million dollars that ought to go to Dora. Unless that new will is a phony. Where? In the hands of an attorney appointed by the court to handle the estate. But when she brought it here to show me, I made a quick photo stat. You'd like to see it? Yes. Yes, I said I would. All right. Here. And here. Here's a stat of the earlier will. Yes. Pretty lousy typing down both of them. I told you, she pecked them out herself. And her fingers were all cramped up with arthritis these past few years. But you can see the typing is the same. Including the same repeated errors. It's funny she didn't let Pringle type out this later one for her. After all, I was his job. And as long as she was linking everything to him. Well, apparently for some reason or other, she wanted to keep it from him. At least he claims he had no inkling. She was leaving him everything. Well, that doesn't seem likely, does it? Well, who knows with an eccentric old buddy like her. The point is she made out both wills herself. You see the signatures? Not only hers, but the witnesses match perfectly on both documents. That's true. And these witnesses. Marjorie Durkin. John Durkin. Marjorie came in to do the heavy cleaning for her once a week. Not much good, but after all, Mrs. Meinert only paid her two or three bucks a day. And did you lose her? She has any idea why Mrs. Meinert made this change. First thing I thought of, Donna. But I found out that the Durkins died about a month ago. Hit and run. Going home one night. Well, hit and run, I don't know. When was that, I don't know. November 7th. I see. What? Well, it was only a couple of days after this new letter was made. It's funny. Well, it's certainly nothing to get suspicious about. Isn't it? Is it? Well, what's wrong, you said? Oh, sure. By the way, nobody can prove they didn't witness a second will. Oh, look. If one of these was a phony, this last one, but every look at them, and the police agree, not only the signatures, but even the floppy typing. And typing wouldn't be hard to imitate provided the same machine was used. Now, Harve. Yeah, tell me this. Yeah, Dora. Yeah. Did she buy any chance kind of goal for this Danny Pringle? She did not. Those two hated each other. And I told you that she and Bill Freeze are practically engaged. Harve, tell me this. What? Is Dora broken up over the death of her aunt? She is not. She isn't. No, don't get me wrong, Dora. She's a nice girl. She started out nursing Mrs. Minard out of pity for her. Started out? Yeah. And then when the old crow wouldn't let her go and became more demanding, more abusive, well, I'm sure that Dora would be the first to admit that she stayed on in the hope of some reward when Mrs. Minard died. She'd been told about the first will, but she didn't know about the new one. Not until she opened that safety party box. Anything else, Harve? That's the whole story. Okay. I guess you're right. There's something very fishy about this whole thing. There certainly is. And with over a million dollars involved, maybe this last will is a phony. I don't see how it possibly could be. But if it isn't, if Mrs. Minard was murdered, in spite of what Dr. Besson said, well, it kind of looks as though I have three people to work on, doesn't it? Danny Pringle, Bill Freer, and Dora Minard. I discussed Mrs. Minard's death with the police. And they politely suggested that instead of wasting their time, I talked with Dr. Hugo Besson. Since Mrs. Minard had been alone at the time of her death, he'd been authorized to make a routine autopsy. But his autopsy, the doctor told me, had been far from routine. That is, after he'd found out about the new and completely unexpected will. The result? Mrs. Minard died of natural causes. Period. End of any question of murder. I drove my rental car over to the Minard Hall, a big old place just off the north end of Bailey Avenue. Fortunately, the only one there when I arrived was Dora Minard's niece. She was in her late 20s, I'd say, tall, good-looking blonde. Please forgive the dirty apes, Mr. Dollar. That's quite all right. I've been trying to get things straight and out around this old barn, now that Aunt Minard's gone. And do you know something? I've been poking around rooms I've never been in before. Well, I thought you'd been taking care of Mrs. Minard for some years, Dora. Oh, I have. In the mistaken belief, there'd be some recompense that all the ones. Oh. I shouldn't talk about it, Mr. Dollar. I mean the way I've been thinking. And please don't ask me to talk about Mr. Daniel Pringle. No, why not? I'd rather have him tell you how he arranged to have me cut off from her estate. Oh, easy. Oh, easy around. Just want to get some cigarettes. And you'll stay around too until things are all settled, just to make sure I don't walk off with something he doesn't want to give me, or the goodness of his heart. As though he had a heart. Please, I... I don't want to talk about it. Didn't you ask me how come I haven't seen some of the rooms in this house before? Did I? Look. Look at these keys. A different lock on every room in the house. And she kept these tied to her waist. Kept them under the pillow at night. But you're not a king of the safe deposit box. Only because she didn't trust Daniel Pringle. And somebody had to be able to go and check it some things. I found the new will folded up in a stock certificate. So that's how it got on the safe deposit box. What? Where was the first will kept? Oh, I think in a file here in this room. I think... Mr. Pringle produced it to show the date when the police were here. Do you want to look for it? Is this... how can I find it? Oh, no. No, that's Mr. Pringle. And if he comes back and finds it, I've unlocked the door to this room of his. Maybe we'd better leave now. Well, I mean, you don't use this machine. Oh, never. You'd have a fit. Besides, this is the first time I've been in here. And isn't this room a mess? But Mrs. Minert could get in. Oh, yes. She told me that she wrote her will on this machine. I mean, the first one that was to leave me everything. But why she had to go and write another and only after she knew that she was going to die? Yes, I could tell you why, daughter. What business have you here in my room? Who is this man? Get out of here, both of you. You're afraid we might find something incriminating, Pringle? Incriminating? Don't be absurd. Who are you? Johnny Dollar, special investigator for the insurance company. Oh, here are my credentials. Oh. Oh, I see. Now, of course, I can't even get a search warrant if necessary. Not at all necessary, Mr. Dollar. Of course not, and you don't mind if I look around. Not at all. Please help yourself. I'm afraid things aren't a bit of a mess, though. I never watched you good at filing and that sort of thing. You wouldn't tell me why Mrs. Minert suddenly decided to leave everything to you. Was I? Well, it was entirely unexpected, I must say. Now, I'll bet it was. Now, Dora. But go ahead, tell him. I'd like to hear it, too. Well, it's really quite simple, Mr. Dollar. I took this job to get what I could out of the old girl. I thought she was richer than she was. I have a certain amount of, well, charm for people like her. It's worked before, and I thought it was. It has. Yes, it has. And I thought it might work with her. You rotten... Well, it didn't. Nothing could charm that eccentric old crackpot, so I planned to leave her. But then came this last illness, and she became such a pathetic person that, well, out of sheer pity for her, I relented. More than that, I repented. Mr. Dollar, that's the most... That's the biggest... Now, just wait now, Dora. I believe Mrs. Minert realized how I changed in my feelings toward her, that she appreciated it and that she took this way to show her appreciation. Mr. Dollar, that's a lie. Now, Dora... You know it is, Pringle. Can you prove that? Isn't there a new will that you found that I didn't even know about? Isn't that proof that I'm telling the truth? Oh, tell me just one thing, Pringle. Certainly. Could anyone else have used this typewriter of yours, and I'm assuming it's the one used to write those wills? I'm certain that she used my machine, Mr. Dollar. Could anyone else have used it? No. No one else could possibly have come in here. No one else could have used this typewriter, except Mrs. Minert, of course, and myself. You're absolutely sure of that. Yes. And the police examination showed that both wills were typed on it. Therefore, only she could have written the new one. Wrong. What? I saw those wills the same typographical errors. Well, that's true. The same signature is exactly the same. I held the photostatic copies up to the light, one on top of the other. The signatures matched perfectly, both of them. Of course. Of course not, Pringle. What are you talking about? It's impossible for anyone to write a signature, even his own name, write it twice, exactly the same. Mr. Dollar. It's utterly impossible. Well, you're wrong. You must be wrong. Well, try it. Here. Try it. Now, listen. Not even your own name. Now, look here. So you wrote a new will naming you as the sole beneficiary. You traced the signature as both of them. Well, you don't know what you're talking about. Then you realized that you'd have to get rid of the witnesses. To the first will, John and Marjorie Durkin, so they couldn't deny having signed the second one. They didn't learn them. I'll bet you ran after you killed them. Yes. Yes, I did. Mr. Dollar. But you'll never live to tell it. Oh, put that gun down. Oh, whatever's hiding, Dora. Oh, come on, Pringle. You don't think I'd come here alone, do you, without the police? What? All right, Sergeant. Here he is for you. Oh, wait. No. That's right. Pringle. What police? What are you talking about? The oldest gag in the world, Dora. But amateur still fall for it. I'll give a statement to us. I hope they do hear the murder of the Durkin about him. As for that second will, it can't be genuine, simply because of those two sets of absolutely identical signatures. Expense account total, including the fare back to Hartford, 129.30. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. I'll treat you to that tobacco, the better it tastes, and the better. Welcome aboard. Treat yourself to a pack of new King-sized Philip Morris commanders. See what a difference cleaner tobacco makes in your smoking pleasure. You see, commanders are made on a new machine, the Mark 8, that takes fine, rich tobacco and gently vacuum cleans it. What does that mean to you? It means new King-sized Philip Morris commanders have the cleanest tobacco ever rolled in a cigarette, and the cleaner the tobacco, the better it tastes. Noticeably better. Why don't you try a pack and sing for yourself? Welcome aboard. Now, here is our star to tell you about next week's story. A first word for radio station WKAT. It's the new CBS radio-affiliated station in Miami, Florida. We're glad to have them with us on the network. To have them provide the people of greater Miami with a different sound of CBS radio's outstanding program. Welcome WKAT. Next week, a storybook murder that suddenly comes true. Join us, won't you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Be sure to join us next week. Same time and station for another exciting story of Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. This is our tennis speaker. Have a happy habit, Sunday through Friday. Author, Godfrey Time on the CBS radio network. 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