 Standard of California, on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West, invites you to let George do it. The Corp. Son of Keeper, another adventure of George Valentine. Personal notice. Danger's my stock and trade. If the world has you spinning on your head, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. My dear Mr. Valentine, mine is no world-shaking problem, merely a grim and unpleasant duty. One of my girls here at Cliffbryer College passed away several days ago. Her body must be accompanied to her home in Mexico City. If you're available for this assignment, please phone me at the school this afternoon. Then you can meet Miss Bird. You can meet Miss Birdick, our resident nurse, at Idlett's funeral home this evening, and make the necessary arrangements. Yours, very truly, Julia Dunham Stoner Dean. I don't know about you, Bruxy, but I'd rather be on a slow boat to China. Cliffbryer College. Collie, I wonder how old the poor girl was. Do you think she had a boyfriend, George? Think of how he must feel. Let's think of the problem in hand, Angel. Do we take this or not? Who are you kidding? You've already made up your mind. Well, somebody has to do it. The law says that a corpse must have a chaperone. Then, of course, there's Mexico City. I'll bring you back a couple of maracas as a souvenir. We'll talk about that later, senor. Shall I give Dean Stoner a ring? Mexico City. Lay in the sunshine. Send your readers with flashing eyes. You shut up. Here's the burial permit and a copy of the death certificate, Mr. Valentine. Okay, Miss Bertick. You'll need those when you get to the train tomorrow. How old was she, Miss Bertick? Consuelo Benales was 19. I know. You're probably thinking how much she had to live for. A great deal, Miss Brooks. She was beautiful. Had more money than she could possibly use. Everything. Miss Benales is all fixed up for the trip. Looks real beautiful. If you want to, you can go in the back and see for yourself, Miss Bertick. That won't be necessary, Mr. Idlitz. I better go across the street and get Miss Sandwich. The way work's been coming in these days. Hardly get a chance to eat. If it would only level off over the years. Mr. Idlitz, you'd better go and hurry back. We have a few things to talk about. And this is the wrong season for business. Don't understand it. Be back in a few minutes. I suppose every occupation has its hazards. That's certificate. Date 1449. Cause of death cerebral hemorrhage. Natural causes attended deceased from November 18th, 1948 to January 4th, 1949. Last visit January 5th, 1949. So, Elwood Dryden Empty. Dr. Dryden is sort of college physician. Although he lives off the campus. I see. He's been away the last few days. I see. Now, here's a check to cover your expenses, Mr. Valentine. Consuelo's family will take care of your fee when you get to Mexico City. Please let Dean Stoner know when you come back. Yes, I'll do that, Miss Purdy. Good night. Look, Proxy. Yes, George. Sit down and browse through the mortician's journal. I'll go and see if I can hurry Mr. Idlitz along. All right, but please hurry, darling. Despite the potted palms, I can think of a cosier waiting room. Yeah, come on in. Hey, what is this? What hold did you two guys creep out of? Yeah, you two men. What are you doing in my funeral parlor? And why have you got that young lady bound and gagged? But your lips are fun to point on, man. That gun doesn't frighten me. I'm going out and call a policeman. I couldn't hold myself back. Who is that character on the floor? Well, he was the undertaker. Oh, Nicole Cook, huh? Hugh, what are you doing here? You're just talking up your sleeve, Buster. Did you take that gag out of that lady's mouth? Me? Nobody's got more respect for women than me. I think all of them, like my own dear mother. Go ahead, Danny. Take the thing out of here. George. Shut up. I just did that to show you I got a respect for womanhood, Liddy. Now, back to you, Jack. What are you doing around here? And why did you hide the body? He's been raving about somebody's stealing Consuelo's body from the back room. Didn't I tell you to keep still? Come on, Jack. What did you do with that? The name's Valentine. What's the name they got under your pin-up picture in the post office? Hey, you wanted to give this guy a good slammin' for Crack-a-moise? The name is Bo Sky to be... You're the only one been flitting around here all night. Consuelo, she ain't here anymore. You're running a fever, mister. I was just tired to go with the body back to Mexico. She ain't going back to Mexico. She's gonna stay here and get buried right next to my dear mother. Go ahead, keep running. I'll try and listen. Even though she did walk out on me, she's my wife. You didn't get the swing of it? No, no, I don't. She's just a college kid. She's only been here for Mexico a couple of months. You're not in her league, friend. She gave me her own name, Ginger Santos. But I found out who she really was. And I read about her dying up here in the college. Can you get the swing of it? Oh, brother, the only thing I'm getting is a headache. All right, Danny. I will hold the gun. I've got work to do. George, tell them, tell them anything. We'll start easy. First with a mouth full of finger. Get the swing of it, Valentine. And then he was holding back. Hey, what do you want me to tell you? I don't know anything. This is crazy. Danny, let yourself go. George! All right, all right. Little Consuelo went up to heaven. He lit up the ghost, joined the choir, and visible. Is that what you want to know, Scarby? You want us to go on, boys? This guy's beginning to talk out of his ears. Uh, leave me alone. You'll listen to me, Valentine. Yeah, yeah, you're coming over fine. You know where Consuelo is, but you won't talk. Okay. But I'm going to be hip to everything you do from now on. You get the swing of it. Yeah. Come on, Danny. Don't move, George. I'll try to get over to you. That might be a little awkward. Brooks, he tied to that chair. I think I could make it. A couple of brave boys. Oh, darling. Oh, I'll have you out of this in a minute. Well, you take care of Mr. Eileen. I'll call Lieutenant Riley. What about you, George? Me? I'm just a big snoop, a little old Paul Pry. Oh, darling, how can you joke with your... Body, body, who's got the body? And why? Valentine, when I got the message that you were here at the funeral parlor, I quivered like a bird. I said to myself, oh, no, no, no, it couldn't be. But then again, it might. Oh, shame on you, Lieutenant. You know you don't mean it. Even though I look it, I'm not quite ready for Mr. Eilert's back room. It would take you, chum boy, to come up with a capering corpse. But look here. Naturally, we're going to do everything we can to find who stole the girl's body. But now, what else is on your mind? Murder. Oh, wait a minute. Just look at what we've got on our hands. Somebody walks us in the back door and trips out with a corpse. An notorious hoodlum comes to claim it so he can bury it next to his dear mother. A typical Valentine shindig. The girl in question comes from a wealthy Mexican family and is presumably married to said mug, giving a false name. And she's supposed to be going to college all the time. Yeah. And finally, this death certificate. What do you mean, finally? We've looked at it enough. The doctor who wrote this hasn't been around for a few days. In fact, not since the morning after the girl died. Well, the man's got a right to get out of town on a case or to go to a convention or something. Do not leave any void. I will skip that. Now, how's this for the neatest trick of the week? The certificate is dated January 4th. Well, last visit, it says, January 5th. The day after Consuela died. That's right. Well, it might have been a slip of the pen or a mistake, Lieutenant, purposely made to draw attention to this certificate to say there's something screwy about it. Well, I know this is going to hurt, but I guess what are you driving at? Let's go looking for Dr. L. Wood Dryden, uphill, downhill, and all around the mulberry bush. Here we go. Freshly in and about the canyons near Cliffbryer College for wealthy young ladies. Lieutenant, quick, over here. We've found you. Come on, this may be it. Yeah. Take it easy. I forgot that. Oh, that car must have jumped the side road right down into this gully. Get the door open there. Dead all right. Over here, Joe. I was not much left of the car. George, look. It's got a medical license. All right, Brady. Let me get in there. OK, Lieutenant. Better send for a tow car. Oh, old smoke. You were right, Valentine. Here. The identification tag says L. Wood Dryden, MD. A very convincing picture of an accident, except for that little hole in his head. It burns. Quite a close range. Well, then you were right about it being murdered, George. OK, OK. You call the shots, Valentine. Now let me see if I can match you. Yeah. Somebody made the dock sign a phony certificate at the point of a gun, so there wouldn't be an autopsy on the girl. Then they let him have it. Yep. That's the way I see it, too. But if that's the case, there were two murders. Uh-huh. A double head air. We'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine in just a moment. Meanwhile, a word about modern methods. Not so many years ago, the problem of lubricating your car's engine was fairly simple. Nearly any straight mineral oil would do the job well and economically. But today nearly every car on the road needs a specially compounded motor oil. Otherwise, engine efficiency would drop way down and repair bills would stop piling up. And that's where RPM motor oil comes in. Perfected by engineers at Standard of California, RPM assures longer engine life cuts repair bills to the bone. Its chemical compounds prevent rust from attacking the interior of your engine. They fight off carbon and lack of trouble, put a stop to corrosion, prevent crankcase foaming. Perhaps most important of all, RPM sticks to engine hotspots left bare and exposed to wear by ordinary motor oils. And wherever you drive in the west, you're never far from a fresh supply of engine-saving, money-saving RPM motor oil. Get RPM tomorrow. Get it at independent Chevron gas stations and at standard stations where they say, and mean, we'll take better care of your car. And now back to tonight's adventure of George Valentine. Reluctantly, you take the job of escorting the corpse of a young woman to her wealthy family in Mexico City. But the body is stolen. Two gangsters work you over. And the doctor who signed the death certificate has found murdered. In his place, you'd probably describe the homicidal shenanigans just as George Valentine did, a double-header. Yes, and also find yourself in the room of the late Consuelo Bonales at Cliffbriar College. Brooksy, if we're going to believe Senorita Bonales lived in this room, we'll also have to believe she was using someone else's fingers. What's that, George? These fingerprints we got off that silver hairbrush don't match the ones on this passport. But still, the picture here goes with the girl in the funeral parlor. Mr. Eyelid's identified. Well, you can substitute a different picture, but you can't change fingerprints. But why the melodramatic masquerade? Why should another girl take Consuelo's place and end up on a slab in a mortuary? And where's Consuelo? Hey, one thing at a time, Angel. But you're right. The big thing is why. Why a wealthy and beautiful young lady from Mexico would let anyone else fill her nylons? No, we could kick that one around for days and not get anywhere. Well, suppose we get a jump in the wild goose season. Mm-hmm. Beat it down to headquarters and make it like Montahari with the boys in the fingerprint division. Is there anything in the files that will give us a name to go with the prints? Oh, Mr. Valentine, Dean Stoner told me that you were up here and wanted to see me. Oh, yeah, just a few questions, Miss Burdick. Take care of that little matter, would you, Bruxy? Oh, I'm on my way. Now, uh, would you know, Miss Burdick, when Dr. Dryden filled out that death certificate? Why, the night Consuelo died, the Department of Health got it in the mail the next morning. Mm-hmm. According to Lieutenant Riley, when you walked in, you found Miss Bonale's dead. That's right. I saw the light and wondered why she was up so late. First, I thought she'd taken an overdose of her pills. Pills? What pills? She suffered terribly from migraine headaches and Dr. Dryden was prescribing for her. Oh, I see. Those are the pills in that bottle on her night table. But Dr. Dryden decided differently, huh? Cerebral hemorrhage. Just one more question, Miss Burdick. What sort of girl was Consuelo? Mr. Valentine, all our students are supposed to be paragons of virtue. Gentile young ladies from the best of families. But off the record? Off the record, Consuelo was a paragon of everything but virtue, back in Mexico. Madcap eras, beautiful and bored, that sort of thing. Her parents expected Cliff Breyer to exert a chastening influence. But why should anyone want to make off of the poor girl's body? What is this all about, Mr. Valentine? It's going to take a matter, Harry, to find that out. What's that? Oh, don't mind me, Miss Burdick. Brass knuckles in a sleepless night always makes my mind wander. Yeah, Bruxy, I'm still on the phone. I'm not just trying to think. Now we know the Cliff Breyer girl was Ginger Santos. And that's the name Consuelo Benales gave that mug scabic when she married him. Now look, I'll meet you over at Max Wine as soon as you can get there. Well, you know, the theatrical booking agent. Yeah, so long. Um, Santos. Yes, Ginger Santos, the Mexican dancer. Yeah, thrown in the pokey once for dancing in an illegal gambling joint. Uh, my files here are all mixed up. I gotta tell my secretary about this. Uh, who am I kidding? Who's got a secretary? Same old man. Wait a minute. I remember. Ginger Santos, sure, especially Mexican hat dance. Now we're getting something. Only Ginger doesn't dance around the hat. Huh? She makes with it like Sally Rand makes with a fan. Yeah, well, never mind the colorful details. Max, where is she? How can we find her? Uh, let me see. Three months ago, she was in the club reader. And now I think she's dancing out around Brewster in La Casita or something. Good boy. Come to think of it, that's also a place where you can lose some money. And I don't mean a part cheesy. Okay, Max, send me a bill for the info. Sure, have my secretary do that. There I go again. Who's got a secretary? Eh, better slip me a 10 now. What a tragic waste, Miss Santos. What? I said what a waste. You're sitting here alone at the bar. Where did you come from? Why didn't you get here sooner? I take it that you wouldn't scream if I joined you, Ginger. What do you think? Hey, Ginger, this guy giving you any trouble? Yes, the kind I like. Go away, Carlos. No way. Get me another drink. Look, you had too many already. You rentals wouldn't like it. You still got your dance to do. If my eyes are a little bloodshot, nobody will be looking at them anyway. Besides my headache. Okay, but it was the last one. Headache? Yes, but no matter. A little excitement always cures that. And you look like the kind of man who could provide plenty. By the way, what's the man's name? Valentine, George. I mean, who are you? Oh, just say I'm a ballet domain. That means... Don't patronize me. I know what the word means. But aside from being a logger of the dance, what else can you suggest for excitement? What do you think? I like you, Valentine George. You look like the kind who let a girl walk on the outside. In other words, a mug, a bruise. You go for the type, don't you, Consuelo? What, Consuelo? Here's your drink. Just leave it there. What was that you just said? Well, just providing a little excitement. Tell me, how does it feel walking around with a dead girl's name? You're crazy. How does it feel to know that a guy like post-scarabic is looking for you? What? You gave him Ginger Santo's name when you married him. Shut up, shut up! Isn't it exciting enough to know that the girl you let take your place, her body is gone? Or isn't that news to you? What's the matter? You lost all your steam? Get away from me! Why, out of that way, huh? What right have you to talk to me that way? What's going on here? All right, everybody, quiet down. It's just a little argument. Get back to your tables. What's the matter with you, Ginger? You know I don't like things like this happening in my club. He was bothering me, Mike. Talk to him. Don't give me that. This isn't a man you can't handle. If there were, you wouldn't admit it. Mr. Reynolds seems to know you, Sister. You'd better talk to him, Mike. He mentioned something about I let it. Oh? How would you like to step in my office, fella? Well, when there's no choice, I never waste time arguing. Come on, Buster. Let's go see your etchings. All right, Valentine, I get the picture. Now, let me do some talking. Go ahead, it's your deal, Reynolds. I'm a gambler, a businessman, not a murderer. I'm too smart for that. The worst that can be said about me or Ginger is... Your main conswere. Let me talk. The worst is that we did something to keep the other dame from being shipped to Mexico. So conswellers, folks, wouldn't find out the truth. Now, Reynolds, there's more to it than that. All right, so the kid pulled a fast one on her people. I had another girl to take her place so she could play it high-wide and handsome on her own for a while. She's dynamite. She can't stand being cooped up without exploding. Where have you got the body of the real Ginger Santos? My boy has stashed it away, but they'll see that it gets back. With a little diplomacy, things get squared again. Oh, you write a nice story, Reynolds, except for the happy ending. You seem to forget. Well, hello, Scarvik. For a while, I thought you lost my trail. Get out of my way, Valentine. I just seen her outside. She's not dead at all. You're Reynolds? Why? Oh, now, come, boys. Let's not forget social amenities. Reynolds, I want you to meet both Scarvik, also a very tough guy, but more important, conswellers' husband. Husband? Why is that so? And, lo, this is Mike, your successor and your wife's suplexion. Yeah, I know. Me even wanting to bury her next to my dear mother. Anyway, I'll break this guy in half. Oh, please, but don't. I've got enough trouble. Get away from me. Can we come in at your charge admission? Not just a minute, sir. You must the best part, Lieutenant. This is the end of the third act coming up. Is this Consuelo George? Yep. And Mr. Reynolds, who does her body snatching, they're all yours, Lieutenant. Not just a moment, Lieutenant. Quiet, quiet. We'll then scramble you down at headquarters. And before morning, we'll know which one of you killed Dryden and that girl. Just to make sure you're not disappointed, Lieutenant, Brooksy and I will bring Nurse Bertie along. She'll have something to say that'll quench the deal for you. All right, bring her along. Oh, one minute. There's, uh, something festering in my soul. What, George? Oh, uh, Scarvik, I've got something for you. Huh? Yeah. And if you like it, send Danny around. Pretty good, Valentine, but cut it, cut it. All unfested now. You all right back there, Miss Bertie? I'm quite comfortable, Mr. Valentine. You know, Brooksy, the irony of the answer to this whole thing is something only the murderer is going to appreciate. What do you mean, darling? Just think of it, Miss Bertie. Somebody forced Dr. Dryden to sign that fake death certificate. Yet he had the presence of mind to write it in such a way that it put the finger right on the killer. Yes, it is a fabulous piece of irony, isn't it? Yes, but it's going to be wasted on the Lieutenant, George, when he finds out you've been keeping it all to yourself. Well, he'll get over it. Uh-oh. Huh? Oh, the left rear tire again, George. Yeah, sounds like it. Well, may as well get prepared to go to work. Take my coat, will you, Brooksy? I'll put it on the back of the seat. Okay, George. Well, how does it look back there? Oh, not too bad. Well, I'm not changing any tire on the top of the pass. You don't have to wait till you get down. You're not going to get down, Mr. Valentine. What's that? George, the gun she took it out of your pocket. Hey, what is this, Miss Bertick? Has this business affected your mind? Start the car, please. You know what's going to happen now? At the very top of the pass, I'm going to kill both of you and roll the car down into the valley. In what's left, no one's going to go looking for two little bull-toes. Miss Bertick, don't be a fool. You don't turn around like that, Miss Brooks. Wouldn't you like to know why I killed those two? I know about Dr. Dryton, but what did you have against that Santos girl? Nothing. She was just a common vulgar nobody. But her death was useful. When is murder ever useful? When it can get you all the things you've never had. I've been a nurse all my life, taking care of everybody else. And these last years catering to those spoiled, brainless young ladies who have everything money can buy. Wait a minute, Miss Bertick. If I explained to Lieutenant Riley you had a chance to kill us and didn't, I'm sure he'll give you a break. I sure he will. Keep driving, Mr. Valentine. Life could have been very pleasant. With the money I would have blackmailed from Consuelo Benales. That's all zeroed out now. All right. But it was worth the risk. I knew I had to do what I did ever since I found out about the Santos girl and Consuelo changing places. You fools, can't you see? I had to get rid of the stand-ins. You did. They met regularly. They met again that night. The night I killed Ginger Santos. That school nurse, I persuaded her to let me give her a routine injection. But it was the same drug she was taking the pills for her migraine. George, we're almost at the top. I wasn't that a clever scheme for a dowdy, unimaginative nurse? The death could either be called an overdose of sedative or murder. I made Consuelo believe I could testify I saw her poison Ginger Santos drink at the Roadhouse where... Stop the car, Mr. Valentine. And I even thought of a motive for Consuelo. Ginger was blackmailing her because she knew about the gangster husband. Have you got it all out of your system, Miss Burdick? I had to tell someone. It was a beautiful plan. Even though it didn't work. I thought of it all by myself. And I went through with it. Just as I must go through with this now. No. I don't want to do this. But I must. I must. Yes, Miss Burdick. You don't really think I would have tempted you with a loaded gun? George, you mean that you... Hold your horses, Angel. Just as soon as we deliver, Miss Burdick, to Riley, I'll tell you all about it. If your car takes a lot of coaxing to get started, if it's logian traffic, if it drags on hills, then it's hardly giving you command performance. And to get this from your car, get Chevron Supreme gasoline. Special blending agents in this premium quality gasoline command fast starts, command smooth acceleration, command the extra power that makes your car great on hills. And because high octane Chevron Supreme is climate tailored, you can be sure of command performance from your car in each different altitude and temperature zone wherever you drive in the west. Ask for Chevron Supreme tomorrow and enjoy motoring at its best with your car giving command performance every mile. You can get Chevron Supreme gasoline at standard stations and at independent Chevron gas stations where they say, and mean, we'll take better care of your car. George, I think it was mean of you not to tell me you took the bullets out of that gun. Have you given away? Darling, I was thinking, why didn't Dr. Dryden just go ahead and sign that death certificate? There was no reason to suspect it wasn't an overdose of those pills. Well, that's what I meant by the irony, Angel. Well, I thought you were just making conversation. Part of your act with Miss Burdick. No, Ginger was playing her part like a trooper. Consuela's medical record said she suffered from migraines. So, Ginger pretended she did too. Well... Well, I had those pills analyzed. You see, Dr. Dryden realized there was nothing wrong with Ginger, so he was prescribing sugar pills for their psychological effect. That's what Miss Burdick didn't know. Oh. And when Dr. Dryden demanded an autopsy, she was forced to kill him. I got it. Hello. Oh, yeah, Lieutenant. What's that? Well, sure, I guess so. That sounds okay to me. Yeah, bye. Well, what do you know, Angel? The Lieutenant came through with a job for me. Since when did he become a booking agent for you? Well, the Benales family wants me to escort Consuela home once she gets her annulment and everything straightened up. Consuela? You don't say. Yeah? Mexico City. Lambda Sunshine. Senoritas with flashing arms. That's right. Lieutenant Riley? This is Bruxy. Yeah, well, George wants me to tell you we can't take that job. I've suddenly become allergic to hot tamales. Tonight's adventure of George Valentine has been brought to you by Standard of California on behalf of independent chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West. Let George do it, stars Robert Bailey as George with Francis Robinson as Bruxy. Wally Mayer appears as Lieutenant Riley. Tonight's story was written by David Victor and Herbert Little Jr. and directed by Don Clark. Also heard in the cast were Jeanette Nolan as Miss Burdick, Tony Barrett as Scarbeck, Barney Phillips as Reynolds, Junius Matthews as Idlitz, Peggy Weber as Consuelo, and Jack Cushion as Max. The music is composed and presented by Eddie Dunstetter, your announcer John Heaston. Listen again next week, same time, same station, to let George do it. This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System.