 Johnny, how are you? Who's that, Ted? That's right, Ted Orlov, Los Angeles. Well, how are you, Ted? What goes with you these days? Problems. Haven't we all? Here is a fire, Johnny, that have been costing less than a deputy a heap of dough. Suspect arson? Suspect? I'm sure of it. But, Johnny, somebody's gotta prove it. Prove I'm right. Can you make it? Sure, Ted. Why not? Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Welcome to the Action Practic Expense Account, America's Fabulous Freelance Insurance Investigator, yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Expense accounts submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Dollar, the western indemnity company of Los Angeles office. Following is an account of expenses incurred during my investigation of the all too easy matter. Shortly after Dom cracked the next morning, I drove to the airport and spent item one, $20.20 clean fare for a 930 jet out of New York. I went to the Los Angeles International just 10 minutes before noon Pacific time. Item two, six and a half bucks into the office of western indemnity. As I started through the front door of the building, a man rushing out bumped into me. Oh, sorry, Mr. Blemner. Hey, hey, Ted. Ted, Ted, what's the hurry? Listen, I'm glad you're here. Come on, my car's right around the corner. Come on, anything you say, but what's the big emergency? Another one, Johnny. Another one of these fires I called you about. That'll be number six, Johnny, six in a row. Here, get in. Come on, see for yourself why I'm going off my nut. If that doesn't lower the insurance we're going to have to pay, if only I didn't know there were going to be more of them. What do you mean you know? I mean, that firebug will start exactly 15 more of them before he's through if somebody doesn't stop him. You seem to know an awful lot about him. You bet I do plenty. Except for his next method and where he's going to strike next. Oh, wait a minute. Ted, where's the arson squad and all this? Yeah, where? You know your fire department out here is one of the best in the country? And if it is, I'm sure it is. They agree it is. But in spite of all I tell them, they refuse to grab the guy. Who's doing it? I mean, you know who this torch man is. I sure do, guys. Who is it? Come on, let's get out of here. Nothing for us here until it cools off. Good. Let's go something where I can get a drink. Boy, I can use it. Look, Ted, tell me, who benefit? Okay. Listen, his client of ours. His name is Alpheus Brockway-Brocks. Yep. Widower, 82 years of age. Lives on Techway Drive in Beverly Hills. Mm-hmm. Doctor says he has only a couple of years to go at the most. Heart condition, huh? But he doesn't look at Johnny. If I look as good as that when I'm 60, I'll be mighty thankful. What about him, Ted? Johnny, old man Brockway is one of those guys who never had to do a lick of work in his life. A playboy in space. But by the time his beautiful young wife died, he had to quit all that because of his age and his heart. Mm-hmm. Well, the old boy had just about had and done everything. And of course, he'd gone to a stack of dough. I should think so. But he was apparently content to settle back and take it easy. He lived this simple life and just to live out the end of his age. He had no responsibilities. His only child, really a stepdaughter, had got married, followed by the name of Ben Plater in the import-export business. And, uh, oh, she, incidentally, is beneficiary of his small-life policy and whatever else he manages to leave, if any. You mean he's broke now? Well, he isn't rolling in dough the way he used to, but he isn't broke because his old man who had worked for a living had been smart enough way back to buy up all the property he could let go of his hand on here in L.A. Ah, I see. But now all he has left is a little bit here and a little bit there, and I know what's turned out to be pretty poor defections of town. Mm-hmm. An old broken-down frame off on South Dakota Darrow Street remains of a creepy-pea loft building on some land that won't be redeveloped for another 10 years and so on. So what happened? Go ahead, you tell me. Taxes higher and higher every year on this land of his. No. So he has to get up the dough for them every year. Oh, naturally. He still has insurance on the worthless old buildings on that land. Mm-hmm. So you figure that old Alpheus Brunston is eating his cake and having a tomb right now, you're with me. He burned down a worthless old building that would have cost him money to wreck. Mm-hmm. He collects a big hunk of insurance from me, and he still has the valuable part, the land. Oh, boy, what a racket. Well, maybe so. Sure. Well, let's go back to the office and I'll, uh, what's the matter? I don't know, Tim. But it has to be that way. It's the only thing that makes any sense. Brunston is burning down those buildings, and he's not only costing the company a fortune, but making a bunch of suckers of it. I wonder. Wonder? Isn't it obvious? Maybe it's too obvious. Makes the answer seem all too easy. Oh, now, Johnny, the law. Yes, sir. Just a little too easy. But we'll see. When you have to stay alert, don't let drowsiness fool you. Per cop. Per cop with no dollars. The safe way to stay alert without harmful stimulants. Remember, when you're driving, working, studying, and monotony makes you feel drowsy. Per cop. Per cop with no dollars. No dollars. Properties that haven't gone up in flames. Not yet. Not until he gets to them. Now, look, Ted, if you're so sure that Brunston is setting those fires, have you forgotten that favorite saying of yours? I don't know. Have I? Que bono. Who benefits? Well, Althea's Brockway Brockson is the only one who has benefits, and the only one who will benefit when the rest of his properties burn. Now, I guess you have a point there, Ted, but if the fire department arson squad can't pin it on him, they simply refuse to look at the obvious. And you listen, John. That's all I am doing. Oh, you think it's too obvious, huh? Well, haven't I heard you say, and more than once, that the obvious makes the best cover-up of all? Perhaps. On occasion? Well, it's true now. The police, the fire department say, oh, no. A crook would never be so dumb as to leave a clue or evidence or a motive right out in the open. So it has to be somebody else, they say. It simply can't be poor, dear, sweet old Mr. Brockson. It has to be somebody without a motive, somebody all the sufficient dozens point to. You sure that's their reasoning? Well, I say they're wrong. And what about Brockson's age? 82, did you say? Okay, so perhaps he has somebody else do it for him. Is there any difference? Aren't there bound to be plenty of pros in a town like this? Ted, whether you realize that or not, the arson boys know the pros, all of them, and they usually keep pretty close hands on them. Usually, huh? Well, they haven't done it this time. So, Johnny, you've got to work on it. Okay? Okay. Okay, Ted. Oh, excuse me. Sure. All of them. Oh, hello, Commissioner. Huh? Oh, no. Where? Okay, then you listen up. I know, I know, but now listen. You know what I've done? I brought somebody out here who's gonna prove that I'm right. Yeah, Johnny Dollar. Huh? Well, yeah, I guess so. Hey, Johnny. Oh, yes, and? Another fire, Johnny. Another one of Brockson's building. That's two in one day, and now he wants to talk to you. Who, Brockson? No, Fred Klein. Fred Klein? Yeah, he's a firehead. Oh, I know. Here, let me have the phone. Here. Fred, how are you? Pretty good, Johnny. You're just the man I want to see. I kind of thought you might. Tell me where and when. For you, Johnny, right now, if you like. Good, where? 17 South Hill. Now, I'm on my way. You're going to see him, Johnny? Yes, sir. Then get him working on this thing from the right angle. And I know that you can do it, Johnny. That you can prove to him that I'm right about his old alpine speed. Yeah? We'll see. Item three, 50 bucks deposit on a rental car and 20 minutes later, after the usual amenities, fire commissioner Fred Klein sets the knees straight on a few things. No, Johnny. All our feelings on the matter don't bother me a bit. A lot of people don't think too much of this until they see the results of our work. I know. Luckily, knock on wood. We usually do manage to get some results. Luckily, hmm? What? Fred, in my book, it takes a lot of hard work to get lucky. And in a department like yours, I'd say a lot of ability, too. But now, what about the stubborn notion of Ted Orloff? In the beginning, we were inclined to think the same way he does. Until we really ended things. And now? I don't see a sproxed and a little 82-year-old man with a heart condition, wouldn't stand any kind of excitement. We'll talk to him, Johnny. And I think he should, by the way. Yes, I want to. And see if you come up with the same idea that we have, that he's hiring a pro. His six fires, seven as of now, have not been set by a profession. You're sure of that? I'd stake the reputation of this old apartment on it. Why? A pro has a pattern, Johnny. Almost invariably and easily identifiable, notice how kind they are. I may not realize it, but it's their... their trademarks that enable us to nail so many of them. Yes, I know. What's more, we have fires on those boys that are so complete that, well, we're like an expert dry fly fisherman. He's always set to strike just before the trout hits the fly. Exactly. And I take it these fires don't fit the pattern of any known arsonist. They don't fit any pattern. We believe they're all the work of an amateur. Yeah. He tries one method here and another there and so on. The same amateur? Only because of the frequency and regularity. All men rock some properties and hit. Seven in less than six weeks. That would seem to indicate at least that he's in backup, wouldn't it? What? Don't say him, Johnny. I will. And who knows? Maybe you'll come up with the same idea we're working on. Which is what? Talk to me. Then we'll compare and know. And remember one thing. Yeah? In spite of its inadequate size, the arson squad is my pride and joy. Eleven of the best men in the country. But only eleven of them. And I call it all over the city every day. We do have other fires, you know. Which means that not one of them can afford to spend the time on a single assignment that you can. I'll go say bye. Right. I drove out to South Pecway Drive and talked with Mr. Roxton. Fred Klein was right. That old man would have been utterly incapable of setting those fires. The excitement alone would have killed him in a minute. What's more, although he was no longer wealthy, he was perfectly content to live out the rest of his days taking care of his modest little house. Motive? Absolutely none. He didn't care about accumulating money to lead to his stepdaughter Lois and her husband. They were grown up and able to take care of themselves. He didn't see much of them. They'd never been to him for help of any kind. And they'd assured him they were getting along just fine. So on the strength of that one brief conversation with him, by the time I thanked him, unless I was completely convinced of his innocence, but then, a few blocks away, it suddenly hit me. A couple of things. I had Orlov's reminder of my own words. To Ibono, who benefits. And the old man's insurance policy in the state. The same idea Fred Klein said that he didn't. Maybe. Maybe not. But it was certainly worth following up. It meant all cigarettes. The right amount of menthol. Just a hint of cool, refreshing mint. That's the thing about Newport. That's the combination that makes Newport more refreshing to begin with. More refreshing all the way. Just enough menthol to make Newport so refreshing while you're smoking. Without hiding the rich taste of great tobaccos. That's the word. I am Newport. That's the kind of item for a dime for a phone call to Mr. Broxton. I want a call on them. Just give me the address, please, Mr. Broxton. All right. Good. Thank you. Well, now just a minute, Mr. Dollar. Thank you very much. Imitation leather portfolio. Plus a dollar for some gold lettering on it that said, Federal Housing and Occupation Survey. Then I'd rule to the San Fernando Valley to Sherman Oaks. To another modest little home. A rather poorer sort of home is more like it, because of the neglected shows both inside and out. And the woman who met me at the door, well, she was young and good looking, cheerful, well spoken, but there was something about her that belied not only what I'd heard, but what she told me. More important, what she told me about her husband. You're not to pardon my looking this way, but I just got home from work. Oh, that's perfectly all right. Federal Housing and Occupation Survey. Another big government investigation? Well, it's just a kind of general survey. Oh, I see. Why, do you have to pick on us? Us? Yes. Oh, you're married then? Oh, yes. My husband's name has been played here. And I'm lowest played in this year. Dollar, did you say? That's right. Won't you get down, Mr. Dollar? Oh, I'm sorry. I guess this pacing of mine is just kind of a nervous habit. I hope you don't mind. Oh, not at all. Well, now, what can I tell you? You say you go to work? Oh, just to fill in time, you know. I'm the type that's over there, Dad. Oh, I see. In your husband, does he work? Oh, yes. He's in the import-export business. Oh, and his office address? Well, that's his little office right behind that door. Oh, I see. But he isn't here now, is he? No, no. He left for Mexico, where he has a lot of business contacts. And when did he leave, Mrs. Clayton? Yesterday. Yesterday morning. Now, what have you been doing? Oh, there's a big sort of cement machine that's used in building work, and it's made by Central Corporation over in East Los Angeles. And then there's sort of a crane that goes on a truck, so we can put some timber in. I see. And an air conditioner that's made over in Long Beach, and some Japanese transistor walkie-talkies. Oh, first of all. Oh, that's some of the literature on that desk beside you. Yes, I see. Well, would you say he's pretty successful at it? Oh, yes, very. Good. All right, I suppose I look around the house. All right. And we'll start with his office. Oh, oh, dear, I'm sorry. Sorry? Well, he always keeps it locked, and he gets the only key with him. Oh, well, that's all right. We'll skip it for now. The house of a success, who is? Highly. And among the papers on the desk I've glimpsed a reposition notice for their TV set. So as soon as I made a cursor inspection of the rest of the house I left and drove to the nearest gas station and ran up item six, $1.30 on two phone calls. The first was to the head of the Central Corporation that she mentioned over in East LA. Now, don't mention Ben Plates. Leave her out here, Mr. Dollar. Oh, why not, sir? Oh, he's been in trouble for us. Expense. Sure, or he had a working arrangement with us until we got wise to him. All those phone declines that have a lot of big deals pending down in Mexico. Well, only. Well, I think he's just a lazy, good-for-nothing. Look, over the phone is no good. But if you want to drop in here with the dollar... No, no, thanks. I don't think it'll be necessary. The information from the air conditioner off from Long Beach was virtually the same. Then I dropped in at the State Employment Office near where they lived. And there I learned Plater had had something like a dozen jobs in the last five years. Had held each one of them just long enough to get fired, then collect unemployment insurance and some disability insurance as well. All right, tie that in with the fact that old man Broxton didn't have long to live. And sure, it all tied in. I put him to call the Fred Klein, then drove back to the house, and there... Oh, Mr. Dollar. I'm afraid I didn't really finish my job. Hear me out again? Oh, of course. I was just fixing myself to do it. But I'm pretty sure he'd like to say it. Oh, well, thank you. But all I wanted to look at your husband's office. All I told you, Mr. Dollar, it's all locked out. Well, then I'm going to have to break my way in, won't I? What? Really? Well, without a warrant or something? Well, I mean, the fly. Just stand aside, Mr. Slater. Mr. Dollar! Please stand aside. No! What I found in that room after turning on the lights? Long strips of piracin tape, handles, cans of solvent, and gasoline. Even a couple of crude timing devices made to set off ablaze. I'd been right. Then Clayter was behind the fires. And the reason? They had every possible dollar to the old man's bank account before he died and left it to Lois. And there was all the evidence I could need. The case was closed. Almost. Okay, Dollar, don't move. Then Clayter... I said don't move. Don't! It's a gun! You see, have one, Lois. Here it is. Just hang on to it. You made a bad mistake giving Lois your right name, Dollar. I guess my big mistake is believing you might really be in Mexico. But don't you think you're making one now? Do you think I didn't know all about you? Didn't figure something was up when you came here before. Too bad you got fucked so soon, Dollar, before I had a chance to clear out this room. It doesn't give me much of a choice, does it? Nice fellow you married to. Lois, now it's gonna be a killer. Ben! This is it, Dollar. No, no, Ben! No, no, you can't! Who said I can't? The fire is all right! Because of the money they'd get it, but not this. This is me! It's him or me, isn't it? No, no, no! No, I won't let you! Look then, look at me! Look, I have his gun! Put that thing down and get away. No, no, I won't let you kill him! Oh, wait, you won't stop me? No! I'll stop you! Fred, I think so. I suspected you might lead us to something. That looks like you have, doesn't it? I think so, Commissioner. Ben and Lois Platter. I think they're through playing with the fire. And I hope the shock of it all isn't too much for old Mr. Braxton. Excess account total including the flip home, $491.34. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Start to tell you about next week's story. Next week, two good men, two beautiful girls, and one not-so-beautiful-multiple murder. Join us, won't you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Can you get premium gasoline performance at regular gasoline price? Find out what so many other car owners have found. In three out of five cars, regular priced Sinclair Dino Gasoline matches performance of premium gasoline, saves you up to four cents a gallon. Almost anywhere you see the Sinclair sign, you can save up to four cents a gallon with Dino and still get premium performance and mileage. Drive with care and buy Sinclair Dino Gasoline. Johnny Dollar is written by Jack Johnstone, produced and directed by Fred Henderson. Music supervision by Ethel Huber. Johnny Dollar is played by Mandel Kramer. Be sure to join us next week, same time, same station, for another exciting story of yours truly, Johnny Dollar. This is Art Hanna speaking.