 Personal notice, dangerous my stock and trade. If the job's too tough for you to handle, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. Standard Oil Company of California, on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the west, invites you to let George do it. Opportunity knocks twice. Another adventure of George Valentine. I told you this is Clare Brooks' assistant. It's terribly important. I don't know what to do. What's going on, Angel? Take the other phone, George. Assistant? Time. I only got his name. Hello. Or... Yeah, this is Valentine. I got your name from his pocket, you see. It was a note. I'm sure he intended to call you. He doesn't have any other friends in town, so I didn't know who to turn to. Who are you talking about and who is this? Miss Greta Jenkins, George. She's a housekeeper at the Abel Merton House. Okay, Miss Jenkins. And you're talking about Mr. Abel Merton? No, no, you... Well, what's wrong with this Larry? What happened to him? I can't do it. He always used to drink and run about, you know. His uncle could never stop it. He's sick. Well, look, lady, have you called a doctor? No, he won't let me. We'll do it anyway. This isn't Alcoholics Anonymous. Just because he had my name in his pocket. Mr. Valentine, kill himself. What? That's the truth. Try to... Well, sure, sure, Miss Jenkins. We'll be right out. I've got the address, George. Only where's this uncle, Abel Merton? You'd better... Oh, no, Mr. Merton. Coffee, George. Oh, cut it out. You want to keep me awake for three years? It's better than putting yourself to sleep like this. I didn't try to do that. She's crazy. I am not. You kept saying you didn't care whether you lived or not. You kept saying... Turn it off, will you? Mr. Valentine, he would have killed himself just like his uncle did. And when I found your name, I thought you knowing him and all... Miss Jenkins, get it straight, will you? We've never met in our lives. What? That's right, Worry Ward. Valentine's a detective. Detective? Sure, you don't think I ever set out to make friends with one, do you? Bad penny, that's me, Valentine. Well, why did you want him then? What was his name doing in your... Miss Jenkins, would you leave us alone with him for a few minutes? No, I won't. He's my responsibility now with his uncle, George. I'm sorry, lady. Whether you like detectives or not, you ask for it. You've got one now, so thanks. She worries all the time. I used to live here, you know, until five or six years ago. Did I give her a bad time? Uh-huh. Just what was my name doing in your pocket, kid? Thought of hiring you this afternoon, that's all. Oh. You see, my uncle and me will wear each other's only relative. He's a widower, no kids. Practically raised me. We were... Ah, Milwaukee. Now go on, Larry. That's your uncle, Abel. Abel Merton, and he committed suicide yesterday. Is that right? He was murdered. Oh. That's all. Who murdered him? Well, I did, naturally. I'm no good, you know. He booted me out of his house five years ago, and I've always wanted to get my hands on his money. The Merton Styles Company's a pretty rich outfit, you know. Sure, me. Okay, you're under arrest. Happy? Mr. Valentine, I'm all mixed up, sure. I just got back to town a few days ago. I've changed a little in those five years I've been away. Well, I used to make him so unhappy, but now it was going to be different. He was such a wonderful guy. Larry, did you act the way you did tonight because you couldn't face the idea that you're his only family and you made him unhappy and you might have been the cause? Oh, no, things were different. I told you we were going to get along swell. But, I mean, why would he kill himself right then? I can't believe he did. Okay, I understand. Maybe I just wanted to wake people up. I tell you, some people in the world are so stupid. What people? And who says Merton's death was a suicide instead of murder? What happened? Mr. Valentine, I've never been so frustrated and mad in my life. You want to know what made me go out and drink again, call you, blow my top and cry in my beer? Well, I'll tell you in two stupid words. Have you ever met a cop by the name of Lieutenant Johnson? All right, sure, me. Dumb old cop, me. Well, listen to me, will you? There hasn't even been a coroner's inquest yet. But then, Lieutenant Johnson, what makes the boy think... Somebody talk to, shouldn't have, I don't know, that Larry found out what the police recommendation is going to be, that's all he blew his top. But the police believe suicide. You'll admit that? So don't beat around the bush, Johnson. You told the kid... Look, great hard. I feel sorry for him, too. But don't bark at me like I didn't know what I was doing. Lieutenant... Because I don't. Said it before you could. You want to hear the facts, or don't you? I was only going to say that from what we can find out about Abel Merton, while he was such a straight-laced and stern sort of man, he just doesn't seem like the kind who would have killed himself. Hmm, pillar of morality, I know. I suppose that's the way the boy saw him, because he was so different himself. They had a reunion. So Larry thinks that was the most important thing to the old man. But maybe that's why Merton did it. Oh, clear it up, will you? Let's have those facts. Abel Merton always yelled at the kid to straighten himself out, and he finally did. What I meant just now was, well, maybe seeing the boy different made Merton look at himself a little closer. To see what? Merton was alone in the house night before last. Nephew and housekeeper both out. She testifies he'd been worried, upset for several weeks. Then, at night, he said he had a headache, wanted to be alone, practically snapped her head off. Brooding, unhappy, sick-looking. No, well, we didn't talk to her much. We spent a lot of time... Of course you didn't. Facts, death, about ten o'clock in his own steady with his own gun. Merton had a... Yes, the revolver he took from his own desk. Fingerprints, powder burns, the works, all check. Uh-huh. Well, a typical suicide so far, but as he put it, you can only mess up your life so much. Hmm? In the note he left. Think we go off half-cocked like you do? Here. It's farewell to Larry, look. Let's see. When a man messes up his life, there comes a point when it is impossible to salvage it. I know you'll understand what I mean, Larry. I'm doing what I have to do. This must be the end. Goodbye and good luck, Abel Merton. Mm-hmm. The signature looks a little... No, that's the way he always signed it. Wanna say he didn't really write the suicide note himself? Well, don't embarrass yourself. For once, the experts all agree. But mess up his life? How could a man like that... Oh, and don't argue until you've heard all the facts. Come on, come on, I got a man still working over in his office. His office? Not the type to kill himself. Ha! I'll show you how wrong you can be. How do you do, Miss Brooks? Hello, Mr. Stiles. Stiles, huh? You're the other half of this company. Yes. Abel ran it, though. Sharpest investment man in the business. Here through here, Valentine, Merton kept his own private office. I mean, completely private. The sanctum sanctorum wouldn't even give dictation in here. I told you before, Lieutenant. Abel couldn't think clearly unless he could get away someplace. Lock himself up. That doesn't mean that all his life, he kept secrets. Says you, Sissy. Didn't even let you in, did he? All right, all right. You're getting your facts. What more do you want? I thought you were all through messing... Oh, now, now, now. Take it easy, friend. Just wanna check my man here. I'm sorry, no sleep. We've been up all night. How's it coming, Joe? Well, hello, Lieutenant. 63175 so far. So far, so far. There's nothing beyond the past month. I'm sure of it. I've checked myself. You wanna bet it goes back for years? It does not. We've had certified audits. What are you trying to do? Wreck the name of the company completely? We've got stockholders, you know. This isn't just a... I think he's right, Lieutenant. There isn't anything earlier or it has shown up in the books outside. But in Merton's private books... Hold it, hold it, all of you. What a... Sure, Joe. We've got to explain all this to Mr. Valentine or he'll be very unhappy. Oh, well, you see, there's $63,000. Sure, embezzlement. Tell everybody. Merton had no reason to kill himself, eh, Valentine? This morning, this is the first thing we'll attend to. How would you go about salvaging your life if you'd embezzled $63,000? Hold it, William. I got Larry Merton on the phone. All right, Larry. Well, take it easy, will you? So maybe it doesn't make sense. I'm just telling you the facts. Yeah, yeah, maybe he wasn't that kind of a guy, but... Wait a minute. Hold it, Larry. Match cover. Here, look. It was under the edge of the rug. Let's see. Well, it was behind his desk. It must be Mr. Merton. She said nobody else ever came in here. Yes, that's right. What's that stuff written on it? That's what I mean. Scribbled in pink. It doesn't look like his handwriting, though. Lieutenant, I thought you went over this place inch by inch. Listen, flycatcher, M.E.J., which is dream. Well, that sounds like peak lesson. Oh, for the love of Mike Lieutenant, I'm worn out. Can't we just... If a man embezzles, he has to have a reason for it, doesn't he? Will you be quiet a second, all of you? Hello, Larry. Listen, did your uncle ever bet on the horses? That's what they are, of course, flycatcher, M.E.J. All right, all right, all right. What's the matter with him? He says no. What did you think? He also says if I can't prove it was murder, he'll hire somebody who can. A real upset boy, that he... Mr. Stiles. Mr. Stiles. Robin. Huh? He's all right. Just fainted, that's all. We'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine in just a moment. Listen to the difference. Yes, now you can actually hear authentic scientific proof of the difference between new RPM motor oil and premium type motor oils as designated by the American Petroleum Institute. Auto engines are equipped with irradiated piston rings. And during operation, my new particles of radioactive metal wear off the rings. Geiger counters are thus able to detect the amount of wear actually taking place. Listen now as the Geiger counters click off the difference. First, the low wear rate of the new RPM. Now the much faster wear rate of the conventional oil. Now, new RPM again. You have just heard authentic scientific proof that new RPM motor oil cuts in half the wear rate of critical engine parts. Doubles the life of the average auto engines between major overhauls due to lubrication. Proved in the laboratory and checked out in severe road service, new RPM motor oil is sold with a money-back guarantee of satisfaction. Ask for it at standard stations and independent Chevron gas stations where they say, and mean, we take better care of your car. Back to tonight's adventure of George Valentine. Opportunity knocks twice. But so far, if your name is George Valentine, you've seen very little of opportunity. Abel Merton committed suicide, that's what the police said, but his nephew refuses to believe it. Still thinks it must have been murder. The only trouble is, how are you going to explain all the evidence? Suicide note, technical testimony, motive, everything. Well, perhaps you realize that you're not going to explain. And so instead you question why Merton's partner, Mr. Stiles, should happen to faint. Because I'm worn out, that's why. Up all night trying to figure those books out for the police here. Didn't he always keep a private set of books? Of course he did, yes, yes, yes. We've been through all that Valentine. Look, Johnson, I just want to understand this case. I've fainted, yes. I'm surprised I didn't do it sooner. You know what it's like to be waked up at midnight to be told your partner killed himself? To get roused down here the next morning with a police accountant to pry into something you know as silly until you find it's not? To find your partner of 20 years has suddenly switched in the last month into a man who dipped into $63,000. Okay, Mr. Stiles, okay, never mind, thank you. Come on, Brooks. Hey, wait a minute, where are you going? The Sportsman's Cafe, distinguished cuisine, no television, a mar-you-conviviality, drinks cheap, booze for lady. George. The match cover, Angel, one with the names of ponies scribbled on it. Abel didn't bet on horses. At least I don't think he did. I don't know anything anymore. Somebody at this place he seemed to visit might know. Not Merton's handwriting, not Stiles' handwriting, not Larry's. So somebody else must have dropped it while in to see Merton here, that's all. Give me a chance, sir. Look, you really want me to quit? Valentine, just do me one favor, will you? Sure. Just don't find anything more to make me right about the things I know are wrong. You think I believe in this case? Okay, friend. It's a long shot, but maybe this time I'll prove it's a murder. Help you? How can I help you, Mr. Valentine? By being honest, Miss Jenkins, no matter whose reputation you'd like to protect. Mr. Merton was no embezzler. I don't care what anybody says or what evidence they dig in. All right, all right, Miss Jenkins, just take it easy. Oh, was Mr. Merton in the habit of visiting cocktail bars? No, indeed. He left that to his nephew. Well, tell me, did Mr. Merton bet on horses? Young man, I'm not going to listen to any more liable of one of the finest men I've known. If you'll begin to talk some sense, I'll be more than willing to cooperate. If not, where are you going, Mr. Valentine? Uh-uh, no, no, this is going to be my little secret. Come on, Brooksy. Oh, believe me, I wish I could be of more assistance, Mr. Valentine. You're the type I'd like to help. I can imagine. And I can imagine you imagining, Derry, but I ain't got that class of mind. Oh, heaven, that is. Okay, lady, but the manager says you were around here five nights ago. The name is Lucy. It's always been my understanding the word lady is reserved for the ones that aren't. If you follow me. Hey, would you get that chip off your shoulder? We only want a few. Besides, how'd you know this gentleman was here five nights ago? Because I just checked the newspaper to find out when certain horses were running. Seems it was four days ago. So I assume the guy who was thinking of betting on him was in here the night before. And I'm the kind of girl who'd know every man who comes in the place. Well, yes. Go on, hit me. What are you asking all these questions for? Oh, no, look, Lucy, we... Let me see that thing, will you? Come on, come on. Ah, a match cover? Yeah. Sure. I see. Hmm. You know, people should use lighters. Look, Mr. The Boss is waving at me. Couldn't you come back? The names of the horses are written in brown pencil. And you made the clever observation nobody uses brown pencil. Your boss made it for us. Oh, well, not one of them horses won. Did you know that? No. Eyebrow pencil. Well, why do you beat around the bush with me? Of course I wrote it. Sure. Sure it'll blonde with an eyebrow pencil. So the Boss told you already. So you're real deductive. Uh-huh. You wrote this yourself. So now would you sit down and have a drink with us? Oh, look, Mr. Valentine, once in a blue lifetime, like, well, maybe every three or four days, an opportunity knocks. A guy comes in wants to be cordial. So I express my interest in horses. So I write down some choices, see? And if he's real nice, he puts up the bets for me. Five bucks on the nose, maybe, or... Well, what's the matter? So I don't remember who it was. Oh, yes, you do, sister. Come on, cut the stalling. Let go of me. I don't. Somebody will maybe later want to visit a stuff shirt named Merton, as you say. George, your boss is coming. Why should I remember? Why should I get mixed up in all this? You stay out of it, friend. Give me a piece of your mind. This guy's crazy. Relax, will you? I've been waving at you. You're blind or something, Lucy. You left your coat across the room. Coat? This coat? Sure, it just brought it over so it wouldn't be stolen. Coat. I told you all I know. I'm... Oh, no, you don't. And this is the last time I've been... Hey, easy. Lucy, look. All we want to know is that I want to get mixed up and sing. A mink coat? And you didn't want us to see it. Why? Yes. He gave it to me just the other day, but I didn't know where he got the money. Honest, I did. Oh, who are you talking about? Who got what money? Oh, what's he use? Who do you think? You know, I was... I didn't know he was going to kill himself. What do you mean, Mr... Yeah, yeah, Abel Merton. Well, what's the matter with you? Don't you believe he was a kind of a man who would have a girlfriend like me? Look, Johnson, look. Have you tried to prove a man didn't have the reason for a suicide? And what do you get? More and more evidence. He embezzled. He played the horses. Now he had a date. And probably taken him for everything he had. I tell you all you do is get him deeper and deeper. And I'll still make it murder. For the last time, just do what I tell you... Lucy, where is she, George? George! All right, Brooks, you all right? Oh, sure, your head is still on your shoulders. But how do you know she was the one who hit you, Mr. Bell? I told you, her voice practically soared. Here we are. That's the place where he... Yeah, drives around the other side. Pretty lush apartment, huh? I started talking murder to Johnson. I guess that's what did it. She took a swing with a shoe and ran. You got a general alarm out, he said. I mean Lieutenant Johnson. He thinks... Sure, Angel, I used to think too. Say, look, run in and ask at the desk, would you? All right, George. Just see if Mr. Siles left any message checking. Right. He's not at the office. He didn't answer his phone here. Step on it, will you? I don't understand why that girl, Lucy, would have told you that story of hers. I mean, almost willingly. And then suddenly she takes a shoe and... Look, kid, look. A lot of things didn't make sense. Neither did you, at first. I didn't believe you. What? Well, I mean, I didn't believe... My uncle was a pillar of morality, you know. The other way. But I believe everything now. Yes, sometimes I wise up and start believing the obvious. And then I realize how simple a crime can be. George! I'll sign. Just a minute, please. Hey, that's his car, right there. Siles. Hey, Siles, wait! Look out, Valentine. Crazy. Hey, slide over, kid. What about Miss Brooke? She's back there. Just hang on to your hat. You see anybody with him? See the girl? I don't know. He went by so fast. I thought he was going to hit you. Meeting her someplace, maybe. Ditching her someplace, maybe. And for herself, who knows? He's heading up the back street. You can turn here. I know a better way. Cut him off. That's what you mean, isn't it? Yeah. He's the only guy who could have done the embezzling, isn't he? Get it those books to fix him up? I mean, besides your uncle? I guess so, but... I don't understand about the girl. Abel Merton was a nice guy. You told me so. He wouldn't get mixed up with a little opportunist like that. But she knew my name. Now how? Unless somebody had given her a fast call. And who knew I was heading in her direction except Siles? I mean, she's really his... his... Sure. Siles paid for the mink. That's why he took that money, I suppose. She was just putting on an act for me. What he told her to say. And it might have stuck if they hadn't got cold feet. But now, running away is a pretty good confession of murder. Yeah, it sure is. I told you that a long time ago, too. Hey, what the... Take it easy. Just take it easy. We'll wait for him here. If they cut back to the highway. Only, uh, I wonder what made them run. Huh? Well, suppose Siles is an opportunist, too. Suppose he saw the perfect chance to steal some money and get away with it. All he had to do was fix a few books in a hurry, tell his grasping girlfriend to play along with a gag about being a friend of Merton's. But then tonight, everything backfired. I'm sorry. I... I don't get you. Don't you? I repeat. What made them run? What? The word murder, wasn't it? A word they never expected to hear. That scared the daylights out of both of them. Yeah. You know, they ought to be coming along any second. Oh, yeah, sure, sure. Unless they're on the road to Mexico by now, but who cares? Because you're the biggest fool of all. You tried to make opportunity, not twice. Not twice? Well, bad penny. That's what you said you were. But it takes a lead slug to press your luck as much as you have. You're crazy. That guy in that car, he ran. Sure he did. He stole the money, perfect opportunity when he was phoned up at midnight and told his partner committed suicide, wasn't it? That's what the girl thought too. Everybody thought so. Except me. And me. For a while, that suicide note bothered me. I didn't see how anybody could have framed that until I realized that nobody could have. Except you. Very smart. I hired the right man, didn't I? You want to hear the rest of my report? Suppose the sour apple nephew, that's you, came back to his uncle after five years. Only instead of open arms, he got the booty deserved. From an uncle who was all upset over having to tell him to get out. So your uncle wrote you, when a man messes up his life, there comes a point when it's impossible to salvage it. I know you'll understand what I mean, Larry. I'm doing what I have to do. Let's be the end, goodbye, signed Abel Merton. Sure, very funny, isn't it? Made a perfect suicide note. So you killed him and framed the rest of his death and used the note for just that. But I guess you knew it wouldn't stick, not forever. So when sucker styles capitalized on the death, you started pointing and yelling until... You would have stuck if you'd believed it. They're running, they might get away. Don't you understand? Yet you were a test case. Sure, the police think Styles and Lucy did it now. The detective near me didn't know what was going on. So all that's left now is to kill me. Get rid of the one guy who figured it. Yeah. Okay, do it. I will. Start the motor again. I can. The key's better. Give me that. Take it easy with that gun now. You can probably straighten the key in 10 or 15 minutes. Shut up. I'm gonna kill you anyway. Okay. Only before you pull that trigger, think of the noise and look where you are. Huh? Yeah. I think 37, I think it says. Maybe it's 39, I'm not sure. You might ask the cop on the curb. Police, they... Sure. You want to go inside? There's a lot of opportunity there for a young man. Why? Why? Why? You just said it. He was a little crazy. But if he'd left well enough alone after Lieutenant Johnson said it was too... Well, he couldn't resist the second opportunity, that's all. He told us he wanted to get his hands in the whole Merton Styles Company. With Styles on the run, he would have moved right in. But George... I know, I know. Crazy. That's what murder always is. He gambled on double or nothing. They always gamble. Even though there's no chance of winning. Well, I cry from you, isn't it? Hmm? I was just thinking. You could never be a murderer then, I guess. Thanks for the compliment. That's all right. What I meant was... Well, knowing you, darling, I guess there's no opportunity that you couldn't resist. Listen to the difference. In a few seconds you will hear Geiger counters measuring automobile engine wear. The engines are equipped with irradiated piston rings, which make it possible for the Geiger counters to detect where as it occurs. You will hear authentic scientific proof that new RPM motor oil cuts in half the wear rate of critical engine parts. Doubles the life of the average auto engine between major overhauls due to lubrication. First, let's listen to the Geiger counter slowly click off the low wear rate of new RPM. Now, the much faster wear rate of a premium type oil is designated by the American Petroleum Institute. Now, new RPM again. You have just heard Geiger counters clicking off the scientific proof that new RPM motor oil is years ahead. Yes, years ahead. New RPM doubles engine life between major overhauls due to lubrication. Try it. Sold with a money-back guarantee of satisfaction at independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations. Where they say and mean, we take better care of your car. Night's adventure of George Valentine has been brought to you by Standard Oil Company of California on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West. Robert Bailey is starred as George with Virginia Gregg as Bruxy. Let George do it is written by David Victor and Jackson Gillis and directed by Don Clark. Ken Christie is Lieutenant Johnson. Francis X Bushman was heard as Stiles. Harry Bartell as Larry. Noreen DeMille as Greta. And Gigi Pearson as Lucy. The music is composed and presented by Eddie Dunstetter, your announcer, John Heaston. Listen again next week, same time, same station, too. Let George do it. This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System.