 From Hollywood, it's time now for... Johnny Dollar. Mr. Dollar, my name is Parley Barron, I'm... Hollywood? What insurance company, Mr. Barron? None. Yeah, I guess I do. What about, sir? A little matter of embezzlement. You're connected with Berkeley Furniture? No. Then what's your connection with this embezzlement? He... You sent in Hollywood? Yes. Goodbye, Mr. Dollar. Yeah, but where in Hollywood... Hello? Hello? Oh, he's a lot of help. In the exciting adventures of the man with the action-backed expense account, America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator... You're as truly Johnny Dollar. Well, act one of yours truly Johnny Dollar. Expense account submitted by special investigator Johnny Dollar to the Eastern Liability and Trust Company Home Office, Hartford, Connecticut. Following is an account of expenses incurred during my investigation of the Hollywood mystery matter. Expense account item 110 cents for a phone call to Hal Spital, who's my regular contact at Eastern Liability and Trust. Well, yeah, nice to talk to you, Hal. Listen, have you received a report of loss from the Berkeley Furniture Manufacturing Company? Well, yeah. A phone call I just got. They called you direct? Well, somebody did. A man with a name of probably... Wait a second. And Besselman, $10,000. And how are you... But how to locate him? Item two, $1.45, taxied at the Berkeley plant on the northwest edge of town. It's a small company, but an old one. When I flashed my credentials to the receptionist, I was immediately shown into the office of the high and mighty himself. Your insurance company acts very promptly, Mr. Dollar. Sit down, sir. Thanks, Mr. Berkeley. Oh, get straight to the point, sir. We've suffered a considerable loss. Yes, so I understand from Hal Spital at Eastern Liability and Trust. $10,000, wasn't it? Yes, nearly $10,000. But I don't recall mentioning the amount to Mr. Spital. In any event, Mr. Dollar, what I want is that money back. I don't care what you do with the thief. All right, have you any idea who took it, Mr. Berkeley? I certainly have. The young great pooh, sir. One of our bookkeepers, a gentleman who has been with the company over 30 years. What are you smiling about, Mr. Dollar? Well, he's stolen this money from you, but you still call him a gentleman. Because I always thought he was. Did his job never complain? That's your measure of a gentleman, huh? Eh? What's that? How much money did he earn, Mr. Berkeley? $60, $65 a week. What differences does it make? Just, uh, wanted. An old man living alone was plenty for him. Unless, of course, he was gambling, something like that. Gambling? Him? Of course not. Never had enough money. Trouble at home, maybe? Is he married? No. Never be able to support a wife. After 30 years with your company? I paid him as much as I thought he was worth. Yeah. Or as little as you thought you could get away with. That is really no concern to yours. Return of the money is. All right. Where does he live, Mr. Berkeley? The small apartment on the north side of town. And when did you last see him? Yesterday. Yesterday morning. Said he had to see his doctor in the afternoon. Yes, it's against my usual practice, but I let him off. But of course, you decided to dock his pay. Naturally. I have to keep discipline in a place like this. Oh, sure. And this morning, when I opened the safe, I discovered that the money was missing. 9,984.75. The case that we had on hand for emergencies. I also discovered that he hadn't come to the office. So I phoned his apartment. And? I learned that our respected gentleman, bookkeeper, left town yesterday afternoon, bag and baggage. That doesn't necessarily mean that he took the money. I'd like to know why not. Well, was he the only one who had access to the safe? Of course not. All of the bookkeepers have. How many of them? Others, I mean. Three. But you think for one minute, they'd dare take that money and then come back here and face me? We got a point there. What? Have you notified the police of this loss? No. I prefer that the whole thing be kept as quiet as possible for the sake of my company's reputation. Please, remember that, sir. Whatever you say, Mr. Berkeley. That's why I have no desire to prosecute him, why I refuse to even file charges, as long as I get the money back. Yeah. Now, what's his address? 11231 North Maple Street. 11231. But as I told you, he isn't there. He's left town. Yeah, you told me. How old a man is he? And he's 60s. But what difference does that make? Oh, and Mr. Dollar. Yeah. Just how did you happen to know about this so soon? I mean the amount that was stolen. From somebody who called me in the phone. Oh? Somebody who apparently knew a good deal about it. If I can locate him, get in touch with him, he can probably be a lot of help in running down this, and come to think of it, you haven't told me what his name is. The bookkeeper? The embezzler? Yeah. Barron, sir. What? Yes, Parley Barron. Act two of yours truly Johnny Dollar in a moment. And now, act two of yours truly Johnny Dollar and the Hollywood Mystery Matter. The embezzler of the $10,000 was Parley Barron, the same man who'd called me on the phone. Apparently called me before the company even knew the money was missing. And he'd had the audacity to inform me that I should contact him, somewhere in Hollywood, which is like saying the needle is somewhere in the haystack. Item three, $2.50 for a taxi to the little apartment house on North Maple Street. I paid off the driver, then walked into the open foyer and looked for the usual bank of mailboxes to find out which apartment was Parley Barron's. Hey, you want me to wait for you in this car? No, that's all right, driver. You go ahead if you want to. Hey, what do you say? Let's see. Allison, Davis, Parrots. Oops. Excuse me, sir. That's all right. Spaulding, Pierce, Robson. Quassie, wait a minute. Oh, here we are. Barron, apartment 103. Just a minute, young man. Are you a salesman? No, I was just looking up the apartment number of Mr. Parley Barron. Well, he ain't here, mister. You're sure? No, sir. He left your bag in baggage yesterday afternoon. Any idea? Worry what? No, who are you? Cops or something? Here, my credentials. You don't need a dollar or insurance. Yeah, that's right. Now, look, I want you to let me into his apartment. Well, yes, sir, right this way. Something wrong, Mr. Dollar? Just a routine investigation. No, well, I was sure he'd done nothing wrong. Oh, why do you say that? Nice, quiet old man like him. Why should he? Only excitement he ever has is when his niece comes to visit with him. His niece? Yes, sir. Name's Virginia, Ginny Lockhart, wonderful girl. Sort of drops in here to look after him once a while, cook him a good meal. Now, here we are. Well, it sure looks like he left in a hurry. Closets open, doors pulled out. Where can I find this niece, you mentioned? Well, I didn't just see her when you just came in. That girl who bumped into me down on the lobby, that was Ginny Lockhart? Well, it must have been. I guess she dropped in for a visit with her uncle, found him gone, and then let out again. And I didn't have sense enough to get a good look at her. Well, here's a picture of her, Mr. sent it to him from her vacation last winter. Vacation, huh? Blue sky and palm trees. Down in Hollywood, I understand. Is that where she's headed for now? Well, now you've got me there. What's that you picked up, Mr. It's a note, I guess. Yeah, it's addressed to her. Ginny, my dear, the doctor you had me see has finally told me the truth. Is this his handwriting? Yeah, that is all right. He's finally told me the truth. I have less than a week to live. Oh, come on. And so for the first time in my life, except for some happy moments with you, I'm going to really live, make up for some of the things I've had to miss all these years. Well, say now. Yes, you may have some idea where I've gone, but please, please, dear, don't try to follow me. You're loving Hollywood. Yeah, like I said, that's what you're doing. And she ran off with the taxi I had. Oh, you want me to call you a taxi, Mr. I sure do, brother, and fast. Them four 750 for a trip to the airport that should have got the cabbie locked up for life. We ran every stoplight along the way. So what happened? I got there just in time to see a plane taking off. And the man at the ticket counter politely informed me that Virginia Lockhart was among the passengers headed for New York. And where would she go from there? Hollywood. I'd bet my last nickel on it. Yeah, and she could lead me to the man I was after. I checked the schedules of all the airlines leaving New York. If I took the next plane out of Hartford, I could barely make a flight out of New York to the West Coast, in other words, Hollywood. Item 56280 for a through ticket. When we arrived in New York, where I had only seconds to change planes, I was the first one off. And then I saw her. She was boarding a plane from another ramp. By breaking a couple of records for the 100 yard dash and pulling my way through the gate, I managed to climb aboard just as the doors were being closed. A quick flash at my credentials kept the stewardess from throwing me off and in a couple of minutes, we were airborne. Now, I guess we'd better make some arrangement about your tickets, sir. Tickets? Yes, sir. Oh, no, here I already have it. Here you are. Oh, thank you. I'll just... Mr. Dollar? Yeah. I'm sorry, but this ticket is for Los Angeles. Oh, sure. Sure, that's where I'm going. Well, not on this plane, I'm afraid. This is a nonstop flight to Miami. What? Yes, sir. Miami, Florida. Three of yours truly Johnny Dollar in a moment. Now, act three of yours truly Johnny Dollar and the Hollywood mystery matter. This plane is headed for Florida? Yes, sir. Nonstop flight to Miami. But I thought this was... Look, I gotta get to Los Angeles to Hollywood. I'm sorry, Mr. Dollar. Oh, not half as sorry as I am. So what do I do now? Well, I'm afraid there isn't much you can do. So why don't you go up in the cabin where there's one extra seat and, well, just relax and enjoy it. OK, miss. I've been so sure it was Virginia Lockhart that I'd seen climb aboard this plane that she'd lead me to her uncle in Hollywood, do wherever he was in Hollywood. So what happened? I was stuck aboard a plane to Miami. All right, I took the advice of the stewardess and walked forward into the cabin to find a seat. And for once, luck was with me. The one vacant seat in that whole plane was right next to, yeah, you guessed it, to Ginny Lockhart. But why Miami? Could she possibly know that I was on the trail of Parley Baron? Was this a trick to lead me off his trail? I decided there was only one thing to do. Play it like I had the least idea in the world who she was. And at the same time, see if I could learn anything from her. As long as we're seat mates on this trip, we may as well know each other. My name's Johnny. Johnny Dollar, miss. How do you do, Mr. Dollar? Be kind of nice to get on down south and away from all the snow and cold, won't it? Would you like some champagne? I understand all I have to do is flag down the stewardess. She'll. No, thank you. Excuse me for saying so, but you look worried about something. I'm sure it wouldn't interest you. But you know, sometimes it does a lot of good to cry on somebody's shoulder. And since we'll probably never see each other again after this trip and, well, I have a good broad shoulder. Thank you, but it's not necessary. Going down to Florida for a vacation? No. I'm going to Florida to try to save somebody's life. Oh. But I'd rather not talk about it. And she didn't. Or did she talk about anything else during the rest of the flight? As we came into Miami, I decided the only thing I could do was transfer to a plane for Los Angeles and hope for the best. But she was my only real lead to Parley Barron. And if I left her here and went on to Hollywood, so I changed my mind. I decided to stay with her. I had him $6, $9 even for a taxi that followed hers out of Miami Airport, then headed north. And where do we end up? Hollywood. Hollywood, Florida. Hollywood by the sea. And the diplomat hotel. I watched her make inquiries at the desk, heard the clerk tell her room 716. I managed to get an elevator before she did. By the time she reached the door of 716 and raised her hand to knock, I was standing right beside her. Mr. Johnny Dollar, what are you doing here? I've been following you, Ginny. Why? To find your uncle, Parley Barron, who stole $10,000 from the company he was working for. He what? Yeah. And unless I'm all wet, this is the door to his suite. You say he stole. I found the note he'd written to you, Ginny, back at his apartment in Hartford. Mr. Dollar, Johnny. Yeah, and it all ties up. Including his phone call to me. It was to make me think he was headed for Hollywood, California to throw me off, give him time. Please, listen to me. He said that for once in his life, for the few remaining days of it, he was really going to live it up. So he came here to the Hollywood that you told him about, came here for one last desperate glorious fling. Listen, that's what he thought. But don't you see? And the more I've thought about it, thought about that crummy, penny-pinching outfit that he worked for for 30 miserable years, the more I hated this assignment. Hated the thought of having to deprive that poor old man of this one last chance to get some fun out of life. Because all I know about him is that he's a decent sort who's been taken advantage of. He's a wonderful man. And he's been a good man all his life. Ginny, don't you see? Unless I get him return the $10,000 to his firm. Johnny, listen. He can't have spent $10,000, and I'll make up the rest. Sorry, Ginny. You're not the police. You're not the law. And I have a job to do. Does that dirty old company want the money, or does it want him? Johnny, if I give you enough to take the $10,000 back to them. OK, Ginny. It's a deal. Oh, thank you. I'm awfully glad. And because of something else, Johnny, the reason why I was looking for him. What do you mean? The new doctor I'd had him go to a couple of weeks ago, my doctor. He gave him a lot of tests. Then uncle went back to see him yesterday afternoon. Yes, I understand. It was to find out the result of the tests, and the doctor told him wrong. The lab reports had got mixed up. You mean that he isn't going to die? No. And the doctor tried to call him, but couldn't reach him, so he called me. That's why I went to his apartment. But he'd left, so I came down here to try to find him. I tried to tell you, Johnny, because don't you see he's going to be all right. Well, I'm Ginny. I guess that leaves only one more thing to be done. Well, Johnny. Tell him the good news. Maybe I'm just a sucker for a good-looking girl. And maybe this makes me an accessory to the crime. But you know something? And you can blame it on the holiday season, anything you like. I don't care. Expense account total, including the trip back to Hartford. Well, a happy new year to you, too. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Our star will return in just a moment because of another adventure in Hollywood, Florida. But that one you'll have to read about. In the February issue of Harper's Bazaar, it's just out. So grab a coffee, will you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Bob Bailey originates in Hollywood and is written, produced, and directed by Jack Johnstone. Heard in our cast were Virginia Greg, Jean Tatum, Harley Bear, Boris Lewis, Junius Matthews, and Frank Gerstle. Be sure to join us next week, same time and station for another exciting story of yours truly, Johnny Dollar. This is Dan Cumberley speaking. Gunsmoke rises today on the CBS Radio Network.