 From Hollywood. It's time now for Johnny Dillon This is Fred Starchy Starchy Worldwide Mutual out here in Columbus, Ohio. Oh sure Fred How are you like a dollar if you're free for a couple of days? I'd like to have you come on out here Oh, what's it all about? This is George Hemingway Tilford ever here of her. Tilford? No, I don't think so Pretty wealthy especially since a fire a few months ago It destroyed a big lumberyard that her husband left to her and she wants to see you right away Did she tell you why? No, she's being very mysterious about it. Something to do with that lumberyard fire, I suppose. Well, she even says something having you come out to see her. Well as long as your company won't quibble over the expense account. As I guess we're stuck for it. Plus my usual fee of course. Well now that depends on what you mean by usual. Let's talk about it when I get there. He'll bring you Bob Bailey in the exciting adventures of the man with the action-packed expense account. America's Fabulous Freelance Insurance Investigator. Yours truly? Johnny Dollar. Expense accounts submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Dollar to the Worldwide Mutual Insurance Company, Columbus, Ohio office. Following as the account of expenses incurred during my investigation, the loss by a hair mattered. Expense account out of 141.75 Plain Fair from Hartford to New York to Columbus, Ohio. It was after 2 a.m. when the big silver bird dropped me off at Port Columbus Airport. Item 2, 250 for a taxi into the Deschlech Hilton. It was no time to rouse Fred Starchy out of bed, so item 3, 1420 for a nightcap, a comfortable room there in the hotel and the kind of brunch late the next morning. So late as a matter of fact that I had to wait for Starchy to come back from his lunch before I could see him at the Office of Worldwide Mutual. See him and ask him questions. Sorry, darling, but she just won't say. Yeah, well, now look, Fred. I like to know something about a case I've come this far to handle. I'm not even sure there's a case here. Well, you told me that she owned a big lumberyard that it burned down some months ago. Exactly nine weeks ago. All right, how much insurance? Dollar was a total loss. It cost the company 330,000. Wow, hey. Fortunately, it was under-insured. Under-insured? At least there's the ground alone out there. It's worth that much. Out where? It's near Minerva Park. Arson by any chance? No. No sign of it whatsoever. She possibly need the money? Hardly. Her husband left her over a quarter of a million insecurities when he died a couple of years ago. No. Nothing suspicious at all, huh? Except that suspicious mind of yours. Listen, Johnny, I didn't say her wanting to see you has anything to do with that fire. That was your idea. Maybe she just wants to look at you. The great admirer of yours, I understand. Oh, sure. Do you always expect to find Arson, fraud or murder, some sort of crime whenever somebody calls on you? No, not always. That's the way it usually turns out. But don't you see if this had something to do with her insurance, she would have said as much. But if it hasn't, why did she ask for me? Well, I told you. You told me what? I don't know. I don't know why she wants to see you, but I'm willing to bet that it has nothing to do with that fire. 500 bucks? 500 bucks. Frank, how do I get there? Item four, a 50-buck deposit on a red old car, and I drove north on Cleveland Avenue. That's route three to the pleasant little town of an urban park. The Tilford home, while not a mansion, was a large stone and stucco affair with plenty of trees and well-kept lawns. All in all, a real nice place in good condition. The surprise was the wood of Tilford, in her middle 60s, I guess, but with a sparkle in her eye that made you feel she ought to be 25 years younger. She was dressed in well-tailored sport clothes, her hair was gray, but cut in a short bob, and her subtle use of makeup made her look like a million. Mrs. Tilford? That's right. And, Johnny, I'm such a fan of yours and that radio program that I hear every Sunday on WBNS that, well, I'll break down and confess that about a year ago, I wrote and asked for your picture. Ah. And you wrote me the nicest letter when you said it. Oh, of course. Grace Tilford. That's right. And when you started off the letter with dear Grace, it made me feel almost young again. I know something. I think you are pretty young, Mrs. Tilford. Oh, well, look at you, Johnny, and I wish I was. But with this old heart of mine, hitting only about one cylinder, come in, come in. Yeah, sure. And now we're going to bypass the living room and sneak into the library. Sneak in? Yes. So that we can talk alone for a little while. You see, your three suspects are there in the living room. You see? Just, uh, what do you mean by suspects? Right in here, Johnny, and they don't disturb us. Okay. Now, it's a bad little conflict. Thanks. Now, Johnny, I suppose you're curious about why I sent for you. Yeah, well, according to Fred Stark, it's all a big mystery. Oh, mystery's right. Was right. But, Johnny, I've solved it. Oh? Yes. The mystery of why my lumberyard burned down a few weeks ago. You mean it was set? That's exactly what I mean. I had no proof in the beginning, no reason to think it was set, but I have now. By whom, Mrs. Tilford? Oh, I wish you'd call me Grace, Johnny, just to flatter me a bit. Okay, sure. But who set the fire? All right, you said three suspects out there in the living room. That's right. Would you like to go in and meet them and then pick out the one it is? Do you say that one of those three people sitting out there in the living room set that lumberyard fire? Yes. Johnny and I collected $330,000 on it after all, but police and firemen had found nothing to indicate ours. Oh, believe me, it's hard to spot on a fire like that. Then I got to thinking about those three, but how each of them could profit by it. Possible at all, three could have had a hand in them? Oh, those three get together on anything, trust each other, oh, never, never. Okay, then. Then a couple of days ago I learned something, proof that one of them did it. Which one? Well, if I know you, you're clever enough to find out. But if you already know, and suppose the one who did it knows that you know. Oh, not a chance. This I don't think there is, and at least none of them has made any move against me. But if one of them, are you better tell me which one? Well, now, Johnny, did you ever tell who's the guilty one on your radio program right at the beginning? Oh, now, let's face it, this is a little bit different. If you're holding out just for the sake of a big dramatic climax. Oh, well, yes and no. Oh, come on, now listen, Miss Telfin. Grace. All right, Grace, but now please listen to me. You listen, Johnny. I said I have proof, but I have to be absolutely sure. And there's where you can not only help me, but you'll know exactly how to proceed, how to take him in, or her, without danger to the rest. Well, listen, if the guilty one knows that you know, you might be in pretty serious danger. Even with you, Ron? Yes, even with me, Ron. Well, I'm simply not going to tell you until you've met them and drawn your own conclusion. Okay, then let's get in. All right. The middle-aged man is Harry W. Schelder, my husband's business manager before he passed on. He's not only very clever, but his sole interest in life is in money. I see. He did very well for my husband, but I've always felt he was really looking out for himself. But why set off the lumberyard? Because replaced by holes and stores and supermarkets, it could be worth millions, he says. Ah, and you refuse to do that? Yes. The lumber company had been in our family for generations. Gave me all the money I could want, so I wouldn't change it. What if it just happened to burn to the ground? Exactly. All of my objections would be wiped out. Then if he's the one... No, wait, wait, wait, Johnny. Then there's Michael. Michael Tilford. Well, the younger man I noticed in there. Our adopted son. After college, business college, he tried to make his way, but not very successfully. Actually, he's been living on our bounty the past few years. Unnair de Welgris? Oh, well, he's not very good at anything. His ideas for that property aren't so ambitious as Harry's shoulders, but he's wanted me to sell it out to one of the development companies. And why? Because my husband's will provided that in the event of my death, he'd get happy and come from it. I see. So he was bitterly opposed to my keeping it as a lumberyard. Motive for one, motive for two. And who's the third, the girl I saw in there? Nancy Willard, my niece. Ever since her parents died, oh, quite penniless, by the way, we've taken care of her. It's simply out of pity, Johnny, not love. And although I may change it now, she's heir to the bulk of my fate. Well, offhand, I'd say that Michael is the least suspect of the three. Let's go talk to them. I'll leave you alone with them. I want to clean up before dinner and wash my hair. It's a mess. Looks great to me. What? Like this? Okay, okay. You girls have to have something to fuss about, I suppose. Now let's go and see those folks. Under the circumstances, there was nothing I could do but play along with a little game for a dramatic little mystery matter, but not for too long. On the excuse she had to go up and wash her hair, she left me with them there in the living room. And what a trio. As I've told you, half a dozen times now, Mrs. Tilpert hasn't long to live. According to her doctor, not more than five or six years at the most. Don't you see what I mean? Maybe, Mr. Schilder. Go on. As long as she's alive and lets me handle things, she can make millions with that property. And you? Well, of course, I get a percentage of the capital gains I achieve. And I say those fancy plans of yours are too much of a gamble, Harry. Just wait, Michael. I say play it safe. Let somebody else take the risk. That's all. Then all we have to do is... I mean, all mother has to do is sit by and share in the profits. A small share instead of all the profits. With you running things, I'd want a pretty good accounting, Harry. You think you could handle a project like I have in mind? One like I have in mind. Nothing to it. I wouldn't trust your judgment or you as a matter of fact. Oh, now stop it, kids. What kind of people will Johnny Dollar think we are? Sorry, Johnny. Oh, I find this all very interesting, Nance. Don't you see, Dollar? Listen to me. Oh, you listen, Michael. Every time we get together this way, it's the same old thing. I've said it before and I say it again. Let Auntie Grace handle things her own way. Of course. You're well provided for without even having to lift a finger. That's right, Harry. I'm not one of the hired help. Nancy, I resent that. But she does have a point there. Sure. So go ahead and resent. But... Oh, now look. It's cocktail time. So let's have Haskell bring in the drinks and talk about other things or just get quietly loaded. Haskell. This is Haskell. There's no reason why one of us can't bring this. Don't bother, Harry. Yes? You call to me, miss? Bring in the portable bar and plenty of ice juice. Yes, ma'am. I'll be after getting it for you right away. Where's my aunt? About to get under the hairdryer last time I was up the stairs. Tell her to come down and join us. Yes, ma'am. And while we're waiting, let's try to be civil to each other. To say I didn't particularly like these three would be another statement. We could picture any one of them having set that fire. For the next few minutes, they simply sat and blared at each other until we heard Mrs. Haskell come running clumsily down the stairs. Miss Nancy. Mr. Sheldon. Mr. Michael. Haskell. I thought you were going to bring... Haskell. What's the matter? It's Mrs. Tilford up there in her room. Well? She's... She's dead. Mrs. Tilford, there in her bedroom, had died alone. Apparently, she'd been sitting under a hairdryer, then simply fallen to the floor, the big professional-looking machine falling beside her. Fortunately, the heating coils had apparently broken before they could set fire to anything. A big hunk of suspicion started building over the back of my head. But then Dr. Taylor came and pronounced it death from a heart attack. And I must confess, I certainly didn't expect... Well, she took such good care of herself. I was certain she'd live on for several years. Well, I'd go downstairs and make up my report and arrange to have the body taken care of. Well, we won't have to argue about the handling of her affairs anymore. Unless, of course, the court lets me act as executor of her estate. In which case, I warn you... Harry, how can you be so callous about it? Oh, the poor... Oh, shut up, Haskell. But Michael's right, Harry. Oh, sure. I suppose you two are heartbroken about her dying like this. Alone. She died all alone up here. Oh, quit. Well, we were downstairs trying to pick her apart like a bunch of vultures, in spite of the way she treated all of us. What do you mean by that, Mike? We got so much better than we deserved. That's what I mean. All three of us. Harry. Never bothering to see her, to come here and be nice to her. Just parked in his office in town, juggling figures to get as much out of here as he could. Michael, I reserve her... I don't care if you do. Heaven only knows how much you've cheated her since father died. Only your foster father, remember? And Nancy. Sitting around here, sponging off her, sweet talking her. Waiting for her to die. Look who's talking. With all the things she's done for you, Michael, you haven't even had the decency to come and visit her now. Yes, I know. When was the last time you were here? A month ago? Six weeks ago? The last time that Harry was here? Is that true, Mike? Yes, Mr. Dollar, I'm afraid of this. But you didn't hesitate to accept the money she kept sending you? At least I... I tried to make my own way. Oh, sure. Again, vicious little Michael. Well, what have you done for us? At least I've stayed here these past few weeks and gone through the motions of being nice to her. Kept her company, helped her with her clothes, fixed her hair for her, and, well... Is that true, Mrs. Haskell? Yes, sir. Fixed her hair for her, big deal. Miss Manton, Miss Nancy even bought her that big hair-drying machine. Oh. And the poor dear loved it so, she was washing her hair three and four times a week. Now, what's that got to do with what she's got? That's right, if it hadn't been for this crazy machine, she would have been downstairs where we might have helped. Wait! Well, don't take it out on the hair-dryer, Mike. I said, wait a minute. My brain was fairly spinning. A news item in the New York papers less than a month ago. A freak-action, one in a million at a beauty parlor. A professional hair-dryer machine exactly like the one lying here on the floor that depicts of its sketches to show exactly what had happened. A tiny wire had come loose, had shocked the customer so badly that she'd lost consciousness. There'd been a big, big noise over it. And now here was Mrs. Tilford, a little frail old lady with a heart condition. Yeah, yeah. What is it, Mr. Dollar? Yes, Johnny. What's that funny look supposed to mean? Plenty. Mrs. Haskell, did you ever help Mrs. Tilford with this machine? Oh, jeez. I'd never even touched that contraption of the devil, sir. Dollar of this old biddy wouldn't even let Mrs. Tilford install an electric stove. But I failed to... Listen, when was this thing purchased? About three weeks ago. I still had the billboard in my office. Another of Nancy's little tricks gave it to Mrs. Tilford as a gift but charged it to her account. But I failed to... Three weeks ago. So when I find the wire on it, it was caught instead of simply broken off when it fell. Mr. Dollar. Yeah. And I'm glad you didn't kick this thing any more, Mike. You see it here? When she clamped this thing on her head, this wire touched her wet scalp. And I just... Good heaven. Then when she turned on the switch... Well, that was it. Harry, you haven't been here for weeks. Well, I know, but I... No, I have you, Michael. And Mrs. Haskell was afraid to touch the thing. Well... Nancy. Yeah. Nancy. You were here, Nancy. And a few weeks ago, when you read in the papers how one of these machines might have... No! I'll put it down, Nancy. No. I'll kill you. I'll kill all of you. Sure I did it, but nobody'll ever know because none of you will be alive. That's where you're wrong, man! No! Michael! All right, Nancy. No! Let go of me! Let go of me! Sorry! You learned a little lesson in clean living from this, Harry? Yes. Yes, dollar. I'll... I'll call the police. So Nancy's wild shot busted one of his ribs, but Michael recovered. Nancy, I don't know what the penalty for murder is in Ohio, but believe me, she'll find out the highway. As for the estate, well, that's up to the courts, too. No doubt much of what might have been Nancy's share will go to the company for that payment on the fire. Expense account total, including the trip back to Hartford, $162.70. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. To tell you about next week's story. Next week, a night in Paris that brings me fun, romance, and a quick brush with that old, old character known as death. Join us, won't you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Truly, Johnny Dollar, starring Bob Bailey, originates in Hollywood and is written, produced, and directed by Jack Johnstone. Heard in our cast were Virginia Gregg, Helen Cleed, Shirley Mitchell, Ben Wright, Sam Edwards, Harry Bartell, and Lauren Stavkin. Be sure to join us next week, same time and station for another exciting story of Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. This is Jim Matthews speaking.