 From Hollywood it's time now for Johnny Deller Sergeant Barney Peters, Port Morris Police. Oh, hi, Sergeant. I thought you and Adam Bould were coming over here to look at the evidence and the murder of Ricardo Amarigo. We are. Ed's not warming up his plane. That's why I answered his phone. We got a visitor here in Port Morris. Who? The guy Ed thinks did the job. Pete Corbin, Amarigo's booking agent. That's right. In Port Morris? That's right. Well, are you holding him? I can't. No legal reason to, in spite of Ed's suspicions. Well, what's Corbin doing there? I don't know unless Ed's right about him. Huh? And Pete knows you're on his trail. Oh, what's that mean? What could mean? He's down here gunning for you. I had an every weekday night Bob Bailey in the transcribed adventures of the man with the action-packed expense account, America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Yours truly, Johnny Deller. Expense account submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Deller. Location, Port Morris, New Jersey. Following is an accounting of expenditures incurred during my investigation of the Ricardo Amarigo matter. Item three, one dollar even. For whatever it was, the local druggist recommended to pull my stomach back together after the flight and Ed bull's private plane from Ed's farm in South Vine under Port Morris. In a sense, I'm glad we flew. In a car with Ed at the wheel, we'd have been all over the road. As it was, we were only all over the sky. Oh, beautiful day for flying, isn't it, Johnny? Can't you hold a straight course, Ed? What's the matter with this ship? Not a thing. I like to weave around a bit. I like the feel of it. You know, all that power under you. Yeah. Sure you're not just trying to scare me into welching on our little bet? I'm gonna win that bet, Johnny. Your commission on the case, plus all that goes on that well-padded expense account of yours. You just get busy and find the body. Why don't you forget your dark past as a private eye and stay retired? Well, I didn't leave an old friend like you floundering around with a case. Hey! You don't watch your steering wheel be floundering around on those salt marshes down there. Sorry. But can't you see, Johnny, Pete Corbin, Amerigo's agent has to be the heavy. He's the beneficiary of Amerigo's policy. Amerigo owed him a lot of money. Too easy. And Pete's the only person we know of who was with Amerigo constantly. You got motive? Opportunity? Too easy, I tell you. But I wonder what under the sun Pete's doing in Fort Morris? That we'll be finding out. We'll land there in a couple of minutes now. The little town of Fort Morris was set on the edge of one of the wide salt marshes that bordered a lot of the South Jersey shore. Just a vast expanse of salt hay indebted with little coves and inlets. Soggy swampy country, ideal breeding place for the famous Jersey mosquitoes. And I guess for me, the ideal breeding place for trouble. Sergeant Barney Peters met us at the mucky little landing strip just outside town. And we headed out on a narrow muddy road across the marshes. Yes, sir, Mr. Dollar. If I were you, I'd try to pin down this Corbin. Where is he now? Back in town. Got Al from a crackin' and keepin' an eye on him. Al supported you so Amerigo crashed through the bridge that night, you know. Barney, I still wish you'd cooked up something to hold him. But what, Ed? Sure, Ed. Every bit of evidence you think you've got on Corbin is purely circumstantial. What else have you got to go on, John Boy? Oh, we'll see. We'll see. After I have a look at the bridge Amerigo busted through in his car. It's just up ahead a bit. It crosses the Lucky Hole Creek. I'd also like to know who could have... Well, I'd like to know what could have happened to his body to that $30,000 a muddy violin. You'll see. Just keep in mind that there's a mighty big flow of water in the creek from the tide coming in and going out. Tell me, Sergeant. Johnny, I checked it. Tide had just turned, was on its way out to the ocean at the time Amerigo's car went over the bridge, right, Barney? That's correct, Ed. Right now, though, it's probably about as low as it'll... Whoa! What's the matter? Just pulling over to let this car that's coming pass us. Otherwise, one of us might shear off into the swamp. Yeah, these roads weren't meant for two-way traffic. John, who's coming pretty fast for a road like this? He isn't carefully... Hey, look. Pennsylvania plates. Huh? He's right. That's Corbin's car. Corbin, huh? He's swinging across the road. Block him. Son of a gun! Oh, now where's Corbin, all right? Well, then swing around. Go after him. On this road? You can slide off into the swamp so fast. By the time we go on up to the bridge and turn, he'll be halfway back to Philadelphia, blessed. Well, we had the bird in hand and didn't know it. What are you going to do now, Johnny? Just exactly what we started out to do. You're losing valuable time. Now, if I were still in this right... Oh, Ed, why don't you stay retired? We drove slowly on up to the bridge, stomped and got out. And although the tide was almost low now, it was easy to see how that rush of water would easily carry a violin or a body or most anything right out to sea. Or could it? The tide was running the same way when it happened out. Yeah. And the current was a lot stronger than it is now, so you can imagine what it would... Huh? Yeah. What's the matter, Johnny? Well, that big bird nest, whatever it is, down there at the side of the creek, 50, 60 feet. Oh, that's just where the reeds and hay got matted up. It does look like hay. Yeah. If that isn't a fiddle case propped up on top of it... Sure looks like one. Sure it is. Sure. The tide was higher than the fiddle stuck in those reeds. Wait here. Well, now, Johnny, don't. You come back here. Dollar? Dollar's like quicksand. Stay out of it. Oh, you're darn cool. It was like quicksand, too. Come on back. You'll never make it. Black glowy muck. And I sank into it up to my knees. I almost had to swim through it, hanging onto and pulling myself along with the reeds and pull rushes. But half of this case hung on that $30,000 on muddy violin, and I wasn't going to let it slip out of my hands. A couple of times I dropped into soft holes almost up to my shoulders, but somehow I kept going. Pull the fiddle case off the pylomatic weeds and started back. I used up most of my strength, with only one hand to pull, to pull myself along to... head. Head. Johnny. Johnny, try and grab this rope. Here. Can't. Reach. Try it again, Ed. Drag it back. Try it again. Johnny, use the violin case. You'll keep your float. Aye. I'll try. You all right? Come in. Come in. Here, Johnny. We're open again. Johnny. I hadn't passed out. So help me, I hadn't. Not entirely, that is. Or I'd never have been able to grab the line that Ed bulls through to me. Needless to say, I took a lot of kidding from Ed and Barney Peters on the drive back to Port Morris, especially since I didn't really know what had happened until I came to in the back seat of the car, clutching the fiddle case. Jerk. If you had held onto the rope with a death grip you have on that violin case, we'd have got you out of that muck before you swallowed half the salt water in that input. Yeah, sure, sure. I'll say this for you, Mr. Donner. You don't give up easy. The fiddle. The $30,000 a money. At least I had half of this miserable case in hand in my hands. There'd be no insurance collection on that violin. And I saw it. Well, what's the matter, Johnny? You passed out again? No. No, Ed. You should have cleaned me up before you piled me into this car. What? Look. What is it? Piece of shirt. Ricardo Amarigo's shirt. Is that it? Yeah, look. Monogram on the pocket, RA. And what looks like blood stains. Where'd you get that? I must have picked it up when I picked up the fiddle. Well, at least it proves that Amarigo went down with his car. No doubt of it. What I didn't tell him was that the piece of cloth from Ricardo Amarigo's shirt was fastened to the violin case. Deliberately put there. But by whom? By Pete Corbin, Johnny. That's your man. Are you listening? Yeah, I'm listening. Beneficiary, confident, caretaker of both Ricky Amarigo and his car. Who else could have sawed through the steering bar that made the car run off the bridge? And a guy who was smart enough to have it happen in this God-forsaken salt marsh. Not in just a minute, Ed. Okay, Barney. In the heart of sunny southern Jersey where he expected nobody to find car or body or even the fiddle until long after the insurance claim was met. Thanks to a tide that had carried everything out to sea. Indeed, my friend, if your deputy Alf McCracken hadn't actually seen Amarigo's car slip through the bridge rail, it... Oh, wait a minute. Yeah, yeah. If Pete Corbin had planned this whole thing, he would have made sure the corpus delecti would be found. Johnny, that's why he had the accident happen where somebody saw it. Yet that somebody, Alf McCracken, didn't see the fiddle float away, didn't see the body float away from the car. Oh, stop it, John, boy. You know as well as I do that this whole thing was engineered by Corbin. All right, tell me, investigator, what was he doing down here today? Lord knows, and I don't care. Probably to plant that piece of shirt. Johnny, I've given you all the help I'm gonna on this case. From now on, you either follow my tip and lose your bet to me or you adult and give yourself a black eye with insurance. Oh, boy. Johnny. Oh, yeah, Barney. That's a good detective. He'd have to be to retire on that nice farm of his over in South Violand. He even broke a burglary case for me once here in Port Morris a couple years ago when I couldn't break myself. Ah, pastime. But you've got guts. I like you for it. Thanks a lot. And to me, the Pete Corbin theory looks well too easy. Oh, not you, Barney. That's what I've been trying to preach to that stubborn egghead sitting beside you. I'll lend you a suit of clean clothes and you can chase this thing down in the way you want to. Without the dubious help of somebody who was just trying to win a bet from you. Traitor. And if I were you, I'd hot up a few other people who knew Ricky Amarygo besides his press agent, Pete Corbin. You are a mind reader. Gentlemen, I have only one thing to say. And Johnny, it's addressed to you. When you finally find that Pete Corbin done it, you know where to send the check to me. At Port Morris, we learned that Alf McCracken had lost track of Corbin when the former dropped in at Osborne's oyster house for a dozen and a half shell. Hadn't even seen him take off in his car, much less leaving a hurry after spotting us on the road to Lucky Hole Creek. I took advantage of Barney's offer, borrowed a suit of his clothes, and accepted a ride from him to the crossroads of Woodvine where I could get a bus bank to Philadelphia. Sure, half my job was done. I'd recovered the $30,000 Amati violin, but I could still hear the oh-so-pleasant voice of Ed Bowles, ex-investigator, not so retired. You know where to send the check to me, Johnny. Expense account item five, $4.95. Bus fare from Woodvine to Philadelphia. And believe me, it's a long bus ride. As soon as I got to my hotel and changed into my own clothes, I called Harry Branson at the insurance company. Mr. Branson here? This is Mr. Dollar, Mr. Branson. Yes, Mr. John. Yeah, I'm back at my hotel music lover, and I've just won the $30,000 Amati. What? Yeah, I got the fiddle for you. Well, thank heaven you recovered it. What have Ricardo Amariego? Uh, later. Do you want the Amati? I'll be right over. Where is it, John? Where is it? Right here, Harry. Right here. Case, bow, and all. Oh, thank heaven. And by some miracle, it's dry as a bone and all in one piece. Voila. Oh, thank heaven it... John. John. What's the matter? This? An Amati? Oh, no. Oh, no. Here's our star to tell you about tomorrow's intriguing episode of This Week's Story. Tomorrow, the results of a poker game and believe me, there are times when the cards can be really stacked against you. Join us, won't you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar, starring Bob Bailey, is transcribed in Hollywood, written by Sam Dawson. It is produced and directed by Jack Johnstone. Be sure to join us tomorrow night, same time and station for the next exciting episode of Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar. This is Roy Rowan speaking.