 Wrigley's Spearman Chewing Gum, the refreshing, delicious treat that gives you chewing enjoyment, presents for your listening enjoyment, Edmund O'Brien as Johnny Dollar. Hello, this is Bruce Yu, the luck artiste. Yes, Mr. Yu, thanks for calling back. I want to let you know I was in town. I'd like to get together with you if you'll have time to see me. Well, yes, I just got out of court and I have a meeting in a few minutes. It shouldn't take long. Could you meet me at 5.30 for a drink? Sure, any place you say. All right, there's a place called Tars right around the corner from my office on Spring. I can find it. This is quite a mix-up, Mr. Yu, the lock-hards being killed like that. Yes, it is. Are you any closer to learning which one died first? We are not. It was a matter of only a minute or so. Yeah, it's only a $200,000 question who lived those couple of minutes. The makers of Wrigley's Spearman Chewing Gum bring you Edmund O'Brien in a transcribed adventure of the man with the action-pact expense account. America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. For refreshment while you work or enjoyment anytime, chew a stick of Wrigley's Spearman Gum. The delicious, long-lasting, real mint flavor of Wrigley's Spearman cools your mouth and freshens your taste. The good, smooth chewing helps keep you feeling fresh and alert. Adds enjoyment to whatever you're doing. So indoors, outdoors, at work or play, enjoy chewing Wrigley's Spearman Gum. Wrigley's Spearman, refreshing, delicious. Expense account submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Dollar to a home office Washingtonian life insurance company Hartford, Connecticut. The following is an accounting of expenditures during my investigation of the Horace Lockhart matter. Expense account item 1, $8.90 fair and incidental. Expense fair and incidentals between Santa Barbara and Los Angeles. Your Los Angeles agent found that I was on a case in Montecito and saved you some $200 in fare from the east coast to Los Angeles by bringing me down from Santa Barbara. At 5.30 that same afternoon I met Mr. Bruce Ewell, attorney for the Lockhart estate. You lead off, Mr. Dollar. I'll answer any question I can. So far I know the bare facts. I tried to get some information from the police, but everybody told me to call some other office. You must have called the local authority? Yeah, shouldn't I have? Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart were killed in county territory. So it's under the jurisdiction of the sheriff. I was way off, then. I was almost up to the highway commissioner when I quit. Well, we have a fairly complicated system here. The Lockhart's were killed on the coast highway north of Malibu. They were returning from a visit to Santa Barbara. When their car was either forced off the road or went out of control. Christ threw a guard fence and over a bank. What time of night was it? It was about 2 in the morning. Now the actual report was phoned in by the operator of an all night garage on the highway. But the man was notified by a young woman. She said she had seen the accident happen, had stopped, and gone down to look at the car. But that's where our information stopped. Yeah. Am I right that she did tell somebody that one of the Lockhart's was still alive then, but that she didn't say which one? That's correct. That's what she told the garage operator. Well, his name is Gallagher. And the whole thing hangs on this girl. What's been done to locate her? Well, we put ads in the classified sections of all the papers that happened only night before last. I'm certain she'll call in before long. I hope so. How often do you look at the classified section, Mr. Ewell? Well, certainly. We can hope that she has friends. She's talked to about the accident. And even if she doesn't see it, why, somebody will and tell her about it. The man in the garage. You said his name is Gallagher? Yes, Patrick. Thanks very much, Mr. Ewell. I think I'll rent a car and go out and see him. You Mr. Gallagher? Yeah, that's right. My name is Dollar. I'm an investigator for an insurance company. I'd like to talk to you about that accident the other night. That Lincoln with the man and his wife? Yeah, the Lockhart. Oh, that was a mess. We should get him on his highway. Crazy fool drivers. Hey, he was quite a big shot, I read. He was. What I want to find out about is the girl who reported the accident to you. I don't know anything about her. She busted in here all excited and told me about it, and then she left. Never saw her before, and I haven't seen her since. What exactly did she say? You remember? What do you mean? I'd like to learn her exact words if you remember them. What's so important about her? We're looking for her. I'll explain it to you. But do you remember what she said? Well, not her exact words, maybe. She told me about the accident. She said there were two people in the car, and she said one of them was dead, but she thought one was still alive. Can you be sure that she didn't say, I think the man is still alive, or I think the woman is still alive? No, I don't think she said that. Did she say there were two people in the car, or a man and a woman? Yeah, I'm not sure. I didn't think anything about that. All I was thinking was calling the police. As a matter of fact, I was asleep. She woke me up shaking me and talking about it. It took you a couple of seconds to come to your senses, then, I suppose. Yeah, yeah, I guess so. She left and I called the police. But it's just possible that she might have mentioned the man or the woman still being alive. Well, yeah, maybe before I was awake. Well, I don't get it. What difference does it make? It makes a $200,000 difference to one of two people, Mr. Gallagher. What are you giving me? You carry life insurance, don't you? Yeah, all I can afford. Well, the Lockhart's each had a policy naming each other as first beneficiary, but each of them named a different second beneficiary. Oh, yeah, beginning to see. Mrs. Lockhart had named a son by a former marriage. So if she survived her husband and that crash, even for a minute or so, she became his beneficiary for that length of time. If that was the case, her son is in line for the money from both policies. If she died first, it's the other way around, and her daughter by Lockhart is in line. Oh, I didn't think they cut it that fine. You can see how important it is for you to remember exactly what this girl said. Well, knowing isn't going to make it any easier, to be sure. I'm not sure that's all. What did this girl look like? Well, I'll give you a little more help there. She had blue eyes and seemed to me she was wearing an awful lot of makeup. It was really plastered on. You couldn't really see her skin. Like stage-making? What about eyelashes? Were they fools? Yeah, yeah, they were. Now that you mention it, they were too long to be real. What else? Well, she had a scarf over her hair, but I'm pretty sure it was blonde. And that's about all. She was wearing a coat. Notice when she left, she was barrel-legged and wearing white shoes with high heels. Her legs were tan, so maybe she lives on the beach around here someplace. Did that have been makeup on her legs, too? I don't know. Maybe it was. What about her car? What kind was it? What color? I didn't see it. Didn't see it? No, she parked there by the side of the building where you did. When I was on the phone, she pulled out and headed toward L.A. It sounded like about a Chevy or a Plymouth. Something about that size. Yeah. Well, thanks, Mr. Gallagher. If there's anything more I wish you'd call me, I'm at the Homie Hotel on Wilshire. I'll leave my card. I drove up to the scene of the crash about two miles farther north. The Lockhearts couldn't have picked a better spot. There was an almost sheer drop of more than 20 feet to some big rocks just above the beach. The rocks still showed the marks of the impact. At the sheriff's station on the way back into Los Angeles, I saw their photographs and heard their theory. The car hadn't been forced off the road. The tire marks it left made it appear that either the driver had fallen asleep or that the crash had not been accidental. The next morning I was summoned by Bruce Yule to the Lockhart Address. I found it at the end of one of the elite roads in L.A.'s prize subdivision, Bel Air. It was guarded by an iron gate. The mansion itself was evidently a replica of something Italian. I was told to wait for Mr. Yule in a domed entry hall. Well, thanks for coming out, Mr. Gallagher. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Yes, it's quite a place, isn't it? I wanted the children to meet you. Do you know about them? Only that they're half-sister and brother. Yes. Michael Adams stayed with his own father. Never has lived here. He arrived from Seattle last night. This is the first time he's met his stepsister. That's Gail Lockhart. Yes. She's 23 and he's 27. Well, I wanted them to know we're doing everything we can to find this perverse witness who's become so important. Why doesn't she reveal herself? I wish I knew. Well... Oh, this is Mr. Dollar. The insurance investigator who's come out to help us. Mr. Gail Lockhart. How do you do? Mr. Lockhart. And Mr. Michael Adams. Oh, hey, Mr. Dollar. Nice to meet you, Mr. Adams. You both have my sympathy. Oh, I think Mr. Lockhart deserves it more than I do. I'm no more than a stranger. I don't even remember my mother. She and my father divorced before I was two. Oh, stop it. Sorry? Mr. Yule, I don't have to stay, do I? Yeah, I go to my room. Well, yes, Gail, if you want to. I do. I can't talk about it anymore. I'm sorry, but I feel like I should explain my place in this. I know I don't belong. It's all right, Mr. Adams. Gail is terribly upset. She was inside a barber with her parents that night. She was supposed to drive back with him. They'd been drinking heavily and she begged them to stay over. And when her father refused to do that, she refused to ride with him. Hmm. I didn't know she was with him. Well, you know how these situations are. She's full of self-incrimination. Can't help feeling she should have done more like take the keys to the car or even call the police or something. Well, what are we going to do about this witness, Mr. Dollar? Maybe you can help us, Mr. Adams. Do you ever read the personal column in the classified advertising section of your paper? Personal column? Hardly ever. Have you any idea when the last time was? Oh, months back anyway. I think we have to do better than that personal column, Mr. Yule. Spot a few small ads through the other pages. Have you contacted any but local papers? No, no, not yet. Just because that garage man told us her car headed for LA is no proof that she's here. She might have passed right on through. Yes, but a girl driving alone at that time of night. We have no reason to think that she was alone. Gallagher didn't see anybody else, but they didn't see the car either. There are people who just don't like to get involved in things like this, you know. Yes, yes, that's true, isn't it? Now, what would you say to a posting a small reward? I think that would be a good idea. Not a reward for the information we want because we'd get too many cranks who would say anything for money. Hey, that's right, isn't it? I think we should offer the reward for any information that will lead us to the witness and print the description Gallagher gave us. That's a good idea. Sure it is. But I'll go call my secretary and have her compose an ad and get it into as many evening editions in the county as possible. And San Bernardino and Riverside counties as well. Excuse me. Gallagher, this suspense is really something, isn't it? Yeah. Oh, I know, I don't deserve any of the money. Why, you could have knocked me over with a feather when I found out she had me in the policy. Oh, I suppose she always felt bad about the way she deserted my father and me and wanted to make it up, huh? That was probably it, but man, 200,000 bucks. Well, I get that. I'll be sitting on top of the world. I wouldn't spend it yet if I were you. Oh, I know it's a toss-up, but she would be justice, wouldn't it? With all she'll get anyway, Miss Lockhart doesn't need it like I do. Well, from the looks of this place, she probably wouldn't even miss it. Maybe you're right, Mr. Adams. She probably won't miss anything but her parents for quite a while. Sorry. Can't seem to say the right thing around here. Practical, Mr. Adams had to wait along with the rest of us. The second day, the reward was increased. It was increased the third and the fourth day until it stood at $1,000. There it stayed for fear somebody was sitting on the information and watching the price of it go up. A few newspaper and radio reporters played it up on the mystery woman angle, but the actual $200,000 question we wanted to ask her was never let out. We had some worthless reaction, but on the seventh day, we got what we figured was our first break. An apartment house manager phoned Bruce Yule, and I went out to talk to her. Well, it's not me alone, Mr. Dollar. A few of my tenants have mentioned it too. We're all curious about this mystery woman, you know. Well, this is Tuesday, and that awful accident happened a week ago Sunday, didn't it? That's right, Mrs. Bruce. The exact about two Monday morning. Well, at 10 o'clock that morning, one of the girls who'd been living here left with almost a whole month's rent to live out Susan Lee. Oh, would you say she fit the description on the paper? Now, that's why I decided to call. We'd share the reward, but I'd do the talking, because especially the theatrical makeup that was mentioned. Susan was a dancer in the naughty 90s nightclub on Santa Monica Boulevard. A specialty dancer, as she put it. Was she on a car? That was another thing. The ad mentioned a Chevy or a Plymouth, as she had a Plymouth. That's very interesting, Mrs. Brugger. Did she say where she was going? Well, she said she'd found a better job in another town, but when I asked her where, she changed the subject. She was hiding something. Made no arrangements for mail? Well, ask her about that, too. And she said she'd come back and pick it up as soon as she could. I think she was in trouble. Has any mail come? Well, nothing much. A couple of bills. This one today. Well, I'm a photographer. A photographer. That might really help. Well, yes. Yes, he must have taken a picture. Let's see the return address. Oh, wait till I tell the girls. Oh, I hope it's her. Well, I never even knew anybody who ever won a reward before. It was her. As a matter of fact, things developed quite nicely for the next hour and a half anyway. At the garage, Gallagher positively identified the girl and the print I took him from the photographer. So at that point, that's what we had. A picture and the name of our witness. The rest of it wasn't so good. It looked like she'd taken a sudden run after reasons and places unknown. With a seven-day start, she could have reached almost any place in the world. For refreshment while you work, for enjoyment anytime, chew a stick of Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. When your mouth feels dry, when you're warm or tired, Wrigley's Spearmint is really refreshing. A lively, full-bodied, real mint flavor cools your mouth, moistened your throat, freshens your taste. And the chewing itself gives you a little lift. Helps you feel your best and do your best. So for chewing enjoyment, plus pleasant refreshment, chew deliciously. Chew delicious Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. And now with our star, Edmund O'Brien, we bring you the second act of yours truly, Johnny Dollar. No, not yet, Mr. Yule, but it's more than we've had. One thing I'd like to suggest... Yes? I think we should leave the reward ads running, just as they are. Oh, uh, you don't think we should get right to the point and add her name and photo to the information? No, not right now. She's running away from something to drive a father if we did that. I think we should go on, as if we haven't learned anything. Yes, I suppose you're right. In the meantime, I'll see what I can dig up. The Monica Boulevard Club, where Susan Lee had worked, was open, but almost empty at 3 that afternoon when I went in. Just the bar was in operation, but a series of larger-than-life-sized posters on the wall promised entertainment nightly by outstanding personalities of the dance. I found the manager in his office. What was the name again? Dollar, the bartender told me where I might find you, Mr. Covely. I'd like to talk to you about a girl named Susan Lee. Well, what about her? Uh, come on in, come on. I can spare a few minutes. Thanks. You, uh... You a cop of some kind? Private one. Why? You're expecting some? Well, not especially, except the way Susan dropped out of sight all of a sudden and the way you come in asking about her. What's up, anyway? I was hoping you could tell me. I'm working for an insurance company. All I want with this Lee girl is a statement about an automobile accident she witnessed. Oh, hey. Is this what's been running in all the papers? Yeah, we've been trying to find her for a week. And it's Susan? That's right. What a dope that makes me. A lot of other people around here. Uh, are you sure? A guy identified a picture. Why didn't I think of that? You know why? Because the papers gave the idea that this dame was coming to Los Angeles from some town up the coast. That's all we know, that she was driving south. How could Susan be driving any place up there at two in the morning? The last show here was a quarter of one. I'm all interested in knowing where she is now. I take it you don't know. No, no. A contract had another week to run, but she called me one morning a week or so ago and said she was sick and could she quit. Is that a Monday morning? Well, I can front. Yeah, yeah, sure it was. She called me at home. We're closed on Mondays. Hey, I think I got something for you. What? Well, one of the other girls picked up a pay for her. She wanted to quit, she told me, and I don't make any trouble with the girls who want to leave. And then she wanted Lameen to pick up her check. Well, I said that would be okay if she sent a note authorizing it, and she did. This, uh, what did you say? Lameen? Yeah, that's her stage name. You know, these girls get those monikers legalized when they're too young to know any better, and then they're stuck with them. Uh, Lameen done. You can tell before you see her that she's brunette and specializes in tassels. Did you mind giving me her address? No, no, I've got it right over here. Susan must have some hot dough to be with a $1,000 reward. I wish I could tell you that I can. It's worth plenty. No, I wasn't pushing for information. Uh, here it is. The Wesley on Wilcox. Good, thanks very much. Oh, sure, sure. I don't care what you don't tell me. But anybody could use a hunk of that reward these days. I remember what you've done, Mr. Covey. We'll see what we can work out. Thanks again. Sure. Are you Miss Dunn? Yeah? I suppose you've read the papers like everyone else. I'm the insurance investigator who's looking for that girl. She turns out to be Susan Lee. Oh, well, come on in. What have I been sitting on, anyway? You know what we want her for. Because she saw that Rick. But don't you know what could have happened that made her leave town like she did? No, don't you? Well, I know there was... Look, I'm going to sound like a pretty lousy sort of friend, I suppose, but I only met her when she booked into the club. We happened to get along, that's all. I don't think that's the kind of friendship where you find that greater love half no man stuff. Besides, she didn't trust me enough to tell me everything. Everything about what? Why don't you sit down? Thanks. I promised her I wouldn't say anything and I haven't. But now you want to know and I'm not going to lie about something I don't know. That makes sense to me. Something happened to her that night and I think it was over that guy she married. You'll have to remember that I don't know anything about her. Oh, yeah. Well, she married this guy. I never met him. His name is Robert, she told me. They ran off a couple of months ago, got one of those quick Mexican jobs. You don't know where this Robert came from or lives. All I know is it must have been a dandy marriage. She still lived in her apartment and maybe once or twice a week she'd leave after the last show and run up the coast and meet him. She said he traveled a lot. And I believed it, but not the way she meant it. She sounds a little naive for her profession. No, she isn't. Uh, wasn't. I guess everybody really takes a fall sooner or later. But she came here that night, or morning, I guess it was 3.30. She still had her stage makeup on. She said something happened. She had to get out of town. That's all she'd say. She mentioned seeing the accident? No, just kept on saying something happened, something awful happened. She had to leave town. Could she have caused that accident? The police say no other car was involved. Oh, it must have been that husband. You know his full name? Yeah, it was Phil. I heard her say that. Philip Roberts. It's probably a common name, but we'll get on it. You talked to her the next day. You know about her paycheck? Yeah, she phoned me and she told Mr. Kobly she was sick because she didn't want him to ask questions about why she was leaving. So I went down and got her checked. I met her in a drive-in joint on Santa Monica and the same thing in making me promise not to tell anybody. You have any idea where she might have gone? Yeah, I have. Where? Once a week, every Sunday, Susan used to get flowers. She used to say they were from some masher in San Diego. She'd tear up the card and let the flowers dry up on her dressing table. Bokeh came that Sunday night and she didn't even unwrap it. It was one of those what's the future nights for me. I was figuring how many years I had left in the racket, wondering what had made me go wrong with the way I spent all the time I'd been in it. Well, I was real gone. When Susan left, I took her flowers and brought him home and I read the card. It said, as usual, if you ever need me. That's where she's gone. Do you know or are you guessing? Both I guess. I met one like that when I was Susan's age. That's where I should have gone. Maybe she did. I still got the card with the name of the florist on it. San Diego is some 120 miles from Los Angeles, but when I opened the phone book and saw how many Philip Roberts there were to be checked, the trip seemed short. I didn't get there in time that night, but the next morning I located the florist. He had no trouble remembering the man who so faithfully sent flowers on Sunday. At noon that day, I found Robert's house and I recognized the girl who opened the door to me. Yes? Susan Lee? No, no, she isn't here. Wait a minute, wait a minute. No, leave me alone. Go away. Get your foot out. I didn't know. I didn't have anything to do with it. I didn't know. Let me in, Miss Lee. You don't have to be afraid. All I want to ask you about is the accident you saw last Sunday night. No, you're lying. Let me in. I read about your reward in the papers. You tried to trick me. How did you find me? I had to find you. I didn't do it. I didn't have anything to do with it, no matter what she says. You're saying things you don't have to say, Miss Lee. No, I'm not, because everything else you've heard is a lie. What lies have I heard? Who lied to me? I don't know. Don't you think I've spent all night long every night hearing what she said to you? But I believed him. I believed everything he told me. Phillip Roberts? That's not his name. I know it isn't now, but I married him. You think I would have married him if I'd known that he was already married? I guess you'd better tell me that, Miss Lee. I thought I was married to him. We went to Ensenada. Some man married us down there. With a name. And I thought he was my husband all the time. I was going to quit dancing, and we were going to go away. Then Sunday night, I heard them. You were north of Malibu, Sunday night? Yes. He rented the cabin for us. When I got there, Sunday night, there was another car. I left my car and walked to the cabin, and then I heard them. She called herself his wife, and she used a different name. She called him Carl. I don't know why I listened. I wanted to run, but I stayed. And listened to him argue. And found out that I wasn't married to him at all because she was his wife. You don't have to tell me this. Yes, I do. You have to know the truth. I heard her say she'd kill him. And then I left and started to walk toward the highway. And I'd gotten almost to it when I heard the shots. I wasn't near the cabin. I was almost to my car. Miss Lee. When I heard them, all I thought I was running away because she'd shot him over me. Where is this cabin? It's about three. You know where it is. You've been there. You found him. As far as I know, no one has been there. I haven't heard anything about a shooting north of Malibu. You're lying. No, I'm not. But we'll have to phone the police to check the story. You're lying. You're still trying to trick me that you can't. Stop it. You're lying because you believe her. Go with me. Let go. I didn't do it. It took some time to digest it. I called the police and saw Susan Lee on her way back to Los Angeles with them, and then called Bruce Huell. By the time I had driven back, he'd spent a half hour with the girl and gotten the report of the police who visited the cabin. I was called to the lockout home for the second and last time, and together with the two prospective beneficiaries, I heard what the lawyer had to say. Oh, it's a pathetic story. This man entered a bigamess marriage contract with Susan Lee. His first wife followed him to the cabin. She didn't know about the marriage, but she suspected something. At the height of the argument, she shot him and then turned the gun upon herself. Miss Lee was afraid to surrender as our witness. They're both dead. Well, I'll be. Yes, but actually, that's none of our concern now. This tortured girl did witness the accident. And in spite of her own problems, stopped to give what age she could, which, of course, was none. Did you get a statement from her, Miss Deweyle? Yes, I'm afraid I did. Before the North Republic, Susan Lee swore that the person who was alive at the time she viewed the wreck was Mrs. Lockhart. A newer hot dog. Shut up. Make him stop. Get him out of here. I can't stand it. Here and I'll give you. Let me take it to you. It's really true? Yeah, I guess it is that he'll say so. Man, $200,000 in for what? For being born to the right mother. That's what I call profit on a small investment. Yeah, I guess that's right. $200,000? Why, I bet I can invest that and live like a gentleman the way I've always wanted to. I wonder how much this house costs. None like this in Seattle, but I'll show them a thing or two. Expensive on item 2, $356.50, miscellaneous in Los Angeles. Item 3, $218.45, transportation back to Hartford. Expensive on total, $583.85. Remarks? As far as I'm concerned, the money went to the wrong beneficiary. It was truly $20. Remember, friends, for refreshment while you work for enjoyment anytime, chew a stick of Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. There's lots of lively real mint flavor in it to cool your mouth fresh in your taste and sweeten your breath. And chewing Wrigley's Spearmint helps keep you fresh and alert. You feel better, work better, get more fun out of doing things. So indoors, outdoors, at work or play, always keep delicious Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum handy. For refreshment while you work, for enjoyment anytime, chew a stick of Wrigley's Spearmint Gum. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar, brought to you by Wrigley's Spearmint Gum stars Edmund O'Brien in the title role and is written by Gil Dowd with music by Eddie Dunstetter. Edmund O'Brien can soon be seen starring in the Paramount Pictures production, Warpath. Featured in tonight's cast were Howard McNeer, Hi-Averbeck, Barbara Whiting, David Young, Virginia Gregg, Eddie Maher and Mary Jane Croft. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar, is transcribed in Hollywood by Jaime Del Valle. The makers of Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum hope you've enjoyed tonight's story of Johnny Dollar and that you're enjoying delicious Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum every day. We invite you to join us again next week at the same time when, from Hollywood, Edmund O'Brien returns in another adventure of... Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Bob Stephenson speaking. This is the CBS Radio Network.