 Johnny Dollar Earl Pullman. There's a welcome boy. Hi, Earl. How are things down there in nice warm sunny, Florida? Nice and warm and sunny. Oh, that's a lot more than you can say for up here in New England. We've just been hit over the head with a cold wet spell and anybody as once it can have it. Well, it's even more important, Johnny. The fishing is red hot. Okay, all you have to do is cook up some excuse for me to hide myself down there on expense account. How about it? Well, I can try. Let's see now. Well, one broken ankle. What? I said one badly busted ankle. You think that'll do for it? For what? The excuse you want to come down here and take over a little chore I'd handled myself except for this bum ankle of mine. Earl, if you really have a broken ankle, I'm sorry to hear it. I really have. What is this little chore that you're talking about? A visit to one of our clients lives down the road apiece. You want me all the way down there just to call on a client? Why not? You think the home office would okay all my expenses just for that? When I remind them of all the thousands, maybe millions, you save them over the years. Here, here. Just a call on a client, huh? On a price. Well, I don't believe it, Earl. There's something fishy about this. You know me better than to say a thing like that, Johnny. You mean I know you just well enough. Not once have I gone down there supposedly to fish without running into a burglary or embezzlement arson murder mayhem or what have you and been lucky to get back here in one piece. So come on, Earl. Come clean. What is it this time? I told you, Johnny. Okay, okay. I guess there's only one way for me to find out. Good. I'll be waiting for you. The CDS radio network brings you a Mandel Kramer and the exciting adventures of the man with the action-packed expense account, American's fabulous freelance insurance investigator, yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Expense account submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Dollar to Tri-State Life and Casualty Insurance Company branch office in Sarasota, Florida. Following is an account of expenses incurred during my investigation of the wrong one matter. Expense account item one, $87.70 for a cab to Bradley Field and plane fare to New York to Tampa to Sarasota. Item two, $3 for a taxi to the office on Main Street that Earl Pullman shares with Don Boomhower, a prominent realtor in those parts. Earl, the lower part of his right leg in a plaster cast and a crutch under his arm, hobbled around pretty uncomfortably. Sit down, huh? Are you kidding? That's all I've been doing now for nearly two weeks ever since the doc put this blasted cast on my ankle. Earl, would you like me to autograph it like the kids do? No, thanks. Seriously, Johnny, this darn thing has been driving me nearly crazy. I don't doubt it, Earl. I'm awfully sorry. Sitting around the house doing nothing day after day with Mike having to play nursemaid to me all the time. Do you know this is the first day I've even been down here at the office? How is Mike? Be sure to give him my love, huh? Oh, give it to yourself. You'll be staying with us, you know. Fine. Anyhow, I suddenly got the idea that if you'd come down here and run the boat, we could go out in the Gulf, tie into some whoppers, and maybe take my mind off this thing for a change. Do you know something, Earl? That is the best idea you have had in years. Yeah, well, I didn't think you'd object too strenuously. That talk about a job for me to do while I'm here was just a bluff. Not a bit of it. Yeah. Help me to sit down, will you? Sure, sure. All right, just take it easy now, old man. Now, don't give me that idea. All right, all right. I got it. I got the crutch here. I'll set it right here. There we are. Now, the corner of the desk, that letter. You see it? This one? Yeah. Mailed only yesterday. You called this a letter? Got a piece of wrapping paper. Read it, Johnny, if you can. Well, I can try. Dear, dear, W.E.R., dear Mr. P.U.R.E. P.U.R.E., man? Never mind the spelling. It means poor man. I hope so. You know, anybody who thought of you as being pure would be out of his mind. Okay, okay. So you made a funny one. No, I was absolutely certain. Okay, just forget the bad spelling and translate the best you can. All right. Dear Mr. P.U.R.E., man, if your company don't want to pay off my insurance real quick, come see me real quick. Account of my pal, B-L-E-A-K, Bleak. Blake, Johnny Waldo Blake, his beneficiary. Oh, an account of my pal, Blake, is a way... What? Gateron. Gateron. Gateron. And can't help me. Okay, so you better hurry. Yes, I am signed. Mr. Emmet? Emmet Dennery. A client I mentioned over the fall. Ooh. I'll say this for your Mr. Emmet Dennery. He is no mental giant. Well, he is still a client. How much of a policy, Earl? 2,000 straight life. 2,000? That's a lot of money to some people. Well, I know it is, but is it enough to justify my expenses all the way from Hartford? Well, now you know the real reason why you're here. Ah, you are a good man. Who is Earl? What's this letter mean? Johnny, Mr. Emmet Dennery is a client I've never even seen. All I know about him is what Pete Fisher told me. Fisher? Yeah, he held down this office before I took over. He died two or three years ago. Oh. Well, anyway, Emmet Dennery and his pal, Waldo Blake, are a couple old crackers. Live down in the swamp, down the Everglades. Mm-hmm. Apparently, they scrape out a living, tripping and killing animals, and then selling the hides. Anyway, it looks like Emmet's pal is away somewhere, gatoring. Uh, that means after alligators. My daughter was illegal to kill alligators in this state. Well, sure is. Anyhow, Emmet wants somebody to go to see him. Well, here you are. We can justify your expense account to the company, and after you've paid your little visit to him, you and I can do some serious fishing. Okay? Well, it sounds to me as though he's pretty scared of something. You know what I'm saying? You know, this part here. If your company don't want to pay off my insurance real quick, the only thing he needs to be scared of, Johnny, is a game warden. I've been on it. I wonder. Do you know where he lives? Well, here, I can show you on this map. Fisher had the foresight to pin on the policy. Uh, here you are. He called this a map. Here. Sarasota. I've never known it. And here's Fort Myers. So this has to be the main highway the time I am at trail. And this, well, maybe it's only a wagon track right into the Everglades. And right here is where Emmet's supposed to live. Think you can find it? Well, I can try. Okay. Now you take my car, drive me home, and then get on your way. And as soon as you get back here, if it's still daylight. Oh, yeah. If I remember right, this Everglades country can be pretty dangerous in spots for somebody who doesn't know his way around. Oh, you make out all right. You did the time before, didn't you? Oh, sure, sure. So what have you got to worry about? You tell me. Yes, on my previous expedition into the Everglades, I had made out all right. But that time I'd had a guide, a young Indian boy by the name of Ben Arciola, which, by the way, brings up an interesting point. Nearly all the Indians who inhabit that section of swamp call themselves Arciola. It's a long, famous name among the members of the Seminole tribe. At any rate, if I could find him again. And according to the map, we're all have given me the chances were pretty good. So after dropping Earl off at his home on Oyster Bay and staging an impromptu, passionate love scene with his wife, Mike, who is a living doll. And Earl and his crutch couldn't do a thing about it anyway except howl with pretended rage. I got behind the wheel and headed south on 41, the Tamiami Trail. At Fort Myers, I turned left on 82 into the Everglades and headed right into the middle of the big, sniper swamp country. A few miles below the Sunnyland, I found a pair of wagon tracks that the map had shown barely passable in the car I was driving. This was all to my liking because I was in the same part of the swamp that I'd been in once before during the previous assignment. There in a clearing on the edge of a sort of a bayou was a little unpainted house. And from it a tall, husky young Indian emerged. And his hands aimed straight at the car and at me was a 30-30 rifle. Wait a minute. Aren't you Ben? Ben Arciola? You call me Ben Chura. Don't you remember me? Mr. Johnny. That's right. Johnny Dower. Remember? Yes. Oh, friend. I welcome you, Mr. Johnny. Well, thank you. It's nice to see you again, Ben. And I wonder if you can help me again. If I can, Mr. Johnny, I will be glad to. Ben, I'm looking for a man by the name of Emmett Dennery. You want to see that old man? Yes. Does he still live around here somewhere? So far as I know. Well, good, but he is not our friend. Oh. You Indian people, uh, been having some trouble with him? No, but we have nothing to do with him. Why is that, then? Because he and the other, the one they call Lefty. Was that the Waldo Blake? Yes, Lefty Blake. What about him? They do not obey the law. They take much game they should not take. They live and hunt on our land, our seminal land. I see. Ben, have your people been getting rough with them? No, Mr. Johnny, but we stay far away from them. We do not wish to soil our hands or minds by any contact with them. They are taboo. What you're saying, then, is that if somebody is bothering Dennery, it is not your people. That is right. And you say that in spite of the way you seem to feel about him? Yes, Mr. Johnny. When did you last see him, then? Many years ago, as a child. At least I think it was. How do you mean? They looked so much alike that few could tell them apart. Oh, I see. Then if you still have an airboat that can ride out over this swamp, have you? Back in my house. Well, can I hire you to take me to where Emma Dennery lives? No, Mr. Johnny. No? I must not go there. It's taboo among my people. I see. Well, look, just look here now, then. If this map means anything, it can't be too far from here. And you can take my airboat yourself. All right. Now, I'll pay you for it. Well, that is not necessary. Oh, it is, as far as I'm concerned. Here you are. Twenty-day enough? Thank you. Many shoes for my children. Well, I'm glad, then. You can give me some directions. This map, I'm afraid, isn't too good. Oh, yes. I am sorry I cannot go with you, Mr. Johnny. Well, it might be better if I could. What do you mean by that, then? From what I have heard about these men, you must be very careful. Every ride, one of those airboats, it's a flat-bottomed aluminum hull about 12 feet long, and the bow is squared off instead of coming to a point. Two precarious little seats are propped up high in the middle of it. And at the back is a motor with an airplane propeller. They're safe all right, but tricky, if you know what I mean. Anyhow, I climbed aboard and took off. And brother, I mean, took off. It's quite a ride, believe me. That half-planing, half-skipping over the shallow water. Purchased up there on the spindly seat, I kept waiting for it to flip as I tore on out across the bayou, then wove my way through a network of narrow little rivers over spots that in some places were nothing more than wet swamp grass. No wonder an ordinary underwater propeller couldn't be used. The darn thing would be hung up in the weeds and grass in no time. Down then, I had to swerve quickly to avoid a half-submerged log, or was it a huge alligator? There were more rattlesnakes and cottonmouth moccasins out there than I'd ever seen before. All sorts of animal life, and thousands of birds that rose in alarm as I fairly plowed through them. Finally, I came to a couple of acres of high ground, of brush and trees that stuck out like an island, there in the middle of a swamp. One end of it was a decrepit old clabbered shack, surrounded by row after row of drawing frames with skins on them, mostly the hides of raccoons and alligators, curing in the sun. There was no one around. At least there was no one inside. As I beached the airboat as close to it as possible, jumped off and headed to the old cabin. I wondered if Emmett Dennery, like his pal Leslie Blake, was somewhere out in that swamp, gatering, collecting game. The reason Dennery had given in his letter for being alone, for needing help, I didn't have to wonder for long. Mr. Dennery? Mr. Dennery? After the order met me, as I pushed open the witty door into the dark, windowless, one-room shack, was almost nauseating, and after the bright sunshine outdoors, nearly a minute to see anything in that dark gloomy interior, there was no covering on the floor except the dirt, of which there was plenty. For taping chairs, there was nothing but old crates and boxes, clumsily nailed together. On one side near the door was a beat-up old wood stove, with half a dozen filthy pots and pans at one end of it and stack of dishes. Long and washed. As I have stumbled over an old rusty breadbox lying on the floor, a huge rat scurried out of it and ran out the door. I wondered what sort of slovenly so-called humans could possibly live in such miserable, weak-willed squatter. Then I noticed the ragged draperies hanging across the far end as a sort of divider for the room. I felt that even to touch them would be to contaminate myself, but nonetheless I pulled them aside. There, on a rude cot dressed in tattered jeans, a shirt and a pair of high-top lace boots lay the body of a man. I'm no expert at such things, but even a cursor examination told me that he'd been dead for several days. There was a torn, grimy coverlet on the floor, and I started to pick it up to lay it gently over him. Don't you move now, mister! Why? As you want me to blow your head off. Whether you move or not, I think I'm doing it anyhow. This is Pat Summerall, glad to be back with the frost on the pumpkin and other signs of the football season. Monday through Saturday nights on this CBS radio network station. Let's join forces for a sports time run down on the grid scene and the other major sports. Don't forget now, every night but Sunday, this is your address for sports time, presenting all the latest in the world of sports. The name of the game, again, Sports Time, right here. When I heard the voice in back of me coming from the doorway of the old cabin, I turned, reaching for my gun, but I found myself staring into the barrel of an ancient, high-powered rifle, the hammer that pulled into firing position. And in back of that gun, one of the most disreputable-looking characters I've ever seen. It was about 60, I'd say, maybe 5 feet 3 or 4, a wrinkled, weather-beaten face, scraggly, dirty gray beard. He was dressed in khaki pants and shirts so badly worn it was the one that they held together on his wiry little frame, and his eyes peering out from out of the remains of the long, bushy eyebrows reminded me of the eyes of the snake, and there was a hint of madness in them. You've got a gun. I've seen you reach for it. You just turn around there and keep your hands up real high. Sure. Why not? Well, I'll take it now. That gun of yours, right here. Well? Yeah, this is a pretty one. I'm glad you like it. Now, you sit down right there on the floor. Beside this? Yes, sir, beside him. Can't he use the one that killed him? No, that's where you're wrong, old time. Sit down. You say this gun, sit down. I guess I have no choice, have I? You've got no choice. Okay. All right. With both your hands, you're keeping flat on the floor now. Go on. You're holding the gun. I know. Stay out in the swamp too long. All week, I stay out in that swamp. I come back here to find my pal. Fine, you killed him. You killed Emmett Denner. Oh, wait a minute. Yeah, so now... No, wait a minute. I'll keep you. You take a good look at that body and you'll see that he's been dead for days. Four or five days at the least. You say that now. Shut up. So this is Emmett Dennery. Yes, sir, my pal. You're Waldo Blake? I'm Waldo Blake. Well, then you're his beneficiary. I'll be his what? You mean to tell me you didn't know Emmett carried a lot of insurance? He never tell me that. All right, then you listen to me. Well, sure I listen. But, uh, don't you move from here now? Look, I'm from the insurance company. Emmett Dennery's life was insured for $2,000. And if you're a lefty Blake, that money goes to you. We, $2,000? $2,000. But, uh, I know you're really from the insurance. Would you like to see the money? Uh-huh. All right, then, here. You be careful, then. All right. I still got this gun right on you. All right. Here, here now. You, you just look through this wallet and see for yourself. You just drop a dint on the floor. All right. Now go ahead. Count the money. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Only, uh, only look, look. You ain't got no $2,000 here. You ain't got no... You are. You ain't got no guns on board. Let go of me. All right? There in the corner. You... Don't move. Now, you listen. Now, you listen to me. For your sake, I hope a coroner's examination doesn't show this man was murdered. Murdered? Yes, because you'd be the only suspect. No, no. I never killed him. I didn't. I didn't. Well, frankly, I don't think you did either. It was probably a natural death. Well, yes, it really was. It really was. You're sure of that? Well, what I mean is... Yes, you're sure, all right. That's what gave you the big idea, isn't it? You just couldn't miss a chance at that $2,000 insurance that you've been paying on all these years. Me? Yes, you. I knew there was something wrong the minute I saw this body because of that letter to the insurance office because it was only mailed yesterday, wasn't it? Well, how's... How's she and I know it? Stop bluffing now. It's a little late for that. That letter signed Emmett Dennery asking somebody to come out here was mailed only yesterday. But you know as well as I do, this man has been dead for two, three times that long. In other words, you wrote that letter. And the hope would come out here and pay you off on the so-called death of Emmett. No, no, no. Sure, with the two of you living out here alone, cut off from the rest of the world, nobody really ever sees you. You figured nobody would know it was really Lefty. Lefty Blake who had died. You can't prove which one it is. Can I? Well, let's see now. For a starter, well, let's take the laces on his high-top boots. The way they're tied, the direction of the knot. You ever see a right-handed man who tied a left-handed bow knot like this one? Let's see what else we can find. No, no, that's enough. But don't you see, after all the years of me paying out on that insurance, having Waldo die first, nobody else to leave it to... You could have cashed in that policy legitimately and probably have got back most of what you put into it. But now, after the switch you've tried... Oh, me. What do they do to me now? Pretempted fraud, bloody. But that's up to the company. Oh, Lordy, what will they do to me? You'd better come along with me and find out. Emmett Dennery. My guy said to the old rascal it's up to the company now. As for the total on my expense account, well, let's wait until I can throw up the costs of all the fishing we're going to do. Okay. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Now here is our star to tell you about next week's story. Before I do that, I'd like to extend a word of welcome to a new radio station joining the CBS Radio Network today. It's WNIB Worcester Maths, an important new link in our coast-to-coast family of CBS Radio Network stations. For WNIB listeners starting with this broadcast, a Sunday workout with us and throughout the week, the listening only the CBS Radio Network has to offer. Welcome, WNIB Worcester. Next week, a fishing guide who turns out to be a guide to murder. Join us, won't you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Your truly, Johnny Dollar is written by Jack Johnstone, produced by Bruno Zirato Jr., directed by Edward Oates, music supervision by Ethel Huber. Johnny Dollar is played by Mandel Kramer, also featured in our cast for Martin Blaine as Earl Poorman, Bill Lipton as Ben, Jim Bowles as the man. 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. History from where it breaks nightly in the world tonight on the CBS Radio Network. This is WROW Music, all by name, New York. Do you know a new family just moving to your neighborhood? Welcome Wagon would love to welcome them. Welcome Wagon helps all new neighbors to feel welcome and wanted here in the Capitol District. Each gracious Welcome Wagon hostess brings baskets of gifts from Tri-City merchants. She brings greetings from the community to these new comers, answers questions everyone wants to know about the Tri-Cities. You can make sure your new neighbors benefit from Welcome Wagon service. Just call State 599640 and give the Welcome Wagon hostess the name and address of your new neighbors. She'll call on them and present them with a basket of gifts from civic-minded businessmen. You'll be helping your neighbor and your Welcome Wagon hostess who carries on this valuable community service. In Detroit's connected metropolitan area, call State 599640. That's State 599640 for Welcome Wagon.