 Hollywood, it's time now for... Johnny Dollar. Do you hear me? Johnny Dollar calling. This is Pat McCracken, the Universal Adjustment Bureau. What on the... Hi, Patsy. Johnny Dollar. Johnny, what kind of a noisy hook-up is this, anyway? Pat, this call is being relayed to you from an amateur radio station. Well, next time, try the telephone. From Porto Gardo, Nicaragua. Oh, now you're coming in quite clearly. Porto what? It's a little spot on the Caribbean coast. The last port of call for the sea legs before she was wrecked. Mrs. Douglas Landfair still with you? No, and I don't know where she's gone, which is why I called. So? She acted just as surprised as I was that we both took the same plane down here. And Pat, I still don't know why she decided to come here at all. Maybe she doesn't like the idea of you're going down there to investigate the case. She wouldn't admit it, of course, but that's what I think. You think she may try to obstruct your investigation? Right now, I don't know, because she suddenly charted a small plane and disappeared. To work her way back here to the States? Oh, your guess is as good as mine. Look, why don't you hire a watch on her place on Long Island? And if she shows there, call me at the Hotel Providencia. It's in the city of Bluefield. Nicaragua. Right. In any event, you think her claims for insurance on the sea legs and on Douglas Landfair are fraudulent. Pat, at this point, I don't know what to think. And every weekday night, Bob Bailey in the transcribed adventures of the man with the action-pact expense account, America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Here he is, truly Johnny Dollar. From special investigator Johnny Dollar, location San Juan del Paro, Nicaragua, to the Universal Adjustment Bureau, Hartford, Connecticut, following as an account of expenditure and report of activities during my investigation of the sea legs matter. Pat, I lied to you during that radio contact a few minutes ago. I do think Connie Landfair's claims for $400,000 insurance are fraudulent. Fraudulent is the very devil. But just why I think so is beyond me. At any rate, the assistant who's foisted himself on me down here is a real weirdie whose name, believe it or not, is Oscar Patrick Vladimir Pascarro. He rented a plane and has flown me here to Porto Gardo, a half-baked little town on Nicaragua's east coast. Here is where a radio amateur made the last contact with the sea legs before it smashed up and sank off the Baldero Islands. And who is the operator of this ham station? Oscar Patrick Vladimir Pascarro. Such a long talker, Mr. Dollar. I'm cranking this generator until my arm is nearly dropping off. I'm sorry, Oscar, but that contact with the states was important. Even my back is tired. Ha, I know. I'll make an expense account to you, say, $10. You try that and I'll fly back to Bluefields without you. Oh, please, Mr. Dollar, no joking. Please. Who's joking? Without me, you would be a lost soul in this vile country. Hey, tell me something. Why did you ever set up a transmitter in this isolated fishing village? I should set it up in Bluefields? Ha! They even wanted me to have some kind of license up there. Disgusting! And a waste of money, too. Now, that reminds me. Do you have a pilot's license? Who needs a pilot's license when those little planes practically fly themselves? Besides, a pilot's license costs money, too. Well, I have one, so from here on in, I stay at the controls. No confidence in me. No confidence in you. What a smirked and the good name of Oscar. Okay, okay. Now, let's get out to that flat where you parked a plane. I want to fly over the spot where the sea legs went down. Ha-ha! You see how unvaluable I am? Huh? Without me, you wouldn't even know where to look for the Baldarrow Island. You know darn well, all I have to do is look at the charts and the cockpit of the plane. But, Mr. Dollar, that wouldn't be fair. The Baldarrows turned out to be only six or eight miles offshore. Two narrow little rocky islands that poked up out of the sea to keep each other company in the vast quiet blue expanse. One of them was perhaps a mile long, and the other, just a couple of hundred yards away and stretching parallel to it, was even smaller. Sure, to a man at the wheel who was unfamiliar with these waters and without charts, the Baldarrows could conceivably be a menace to navigation in the dark of the night, that is. Oscar. Yes, sir? Do you remember what time of day it was when the sea legs went down? Of course, I remember anything. Names, dates, places. Well, how about the sea legs? Of course, I was talking to her by radio. Well? It was a lovely day, too, just like today. And you know, Mr. Lanter even promised to take me fishing after we finished the radio contact testing? What time? He even promised to be with... Oh, it was exactly 10.21 a.m. when the radio signal from the yacht suddenly cut off. You're sure of that? Yes, sir. We were talking of A, back and forth, and then beep, nothing. 10.21. One question, a couple of real good answers. A day like today meant it was clear and calm. And 10.21 a.m. and full daylight. The Valderos must have stuck out like a sore thumb. Hang on, Oscar. I'm going to make a tight circle over those islands for a closer look. You sure you wouldn't like for me to steer, Mr. Duller? I'm sure. But if you do all the work, how am I ever going to earn the handsome restreender you're going to pay me? Wait a minute. Yes, sir? That channel between the islands is as smooth as a millpon. Sure, it always is, except during a storm. And so clear, you can see way down into it. Oscar, I thought there were a lot of pinnacles of rocks sticking up in that channel. Oh, maybe at low tide, one or two on the east side, that is shallow, or other, I'd like to see it now. And what's supposed to make the channel so dangerous? The current that runs through it when the tide is changing. Mr. Duller, it's how you say, ideally, like now, when the tide is coming in. Enough to wreck a boat like the sea legs? If the skipper wasn't watching the road, you should see how the current wobbles and squirms. Hey, look, there's a packing case down there floating around. You see, first one direction, then the other, shifting around like a crazy. Yeah, Oscar, I think that packing case is going to be a big help to us. Maybe there's something in it that might be worth money or something. I'll stop thinking of money. Then how? We're going to see just where the current delivers that packing case. You want to know where that packing case will be ending up? That's what I said. Then steer back to Port Agardo, to the beach in front of my superlative radio station. Huh? Sure. How else do you think I got all the lumber and furniture and stuff from my radio shack? He was right. From the air, we could see that every bit of flotsam passing through the Baldero Island channel on a rising tide wound up in the tiny cove on the shallow sandbar directly in front of Oscar's radio shack. Even now, it was piled high with crates, bits of ships rigging odd pieces of furniture. That junk stay down there forever asking. Ah, no, Mr. Balovonza, man, the real big high tide comes along impressed. I have a clean front yard again. But I always make a trip up here before then. What do you mean? Sure, that's why I'm nickered out with the N number one beach brusher. Oh, stop being corny. What do you mean beach comber? So I have to brush the sound off everything I pick up down there. So you didn't laugh. What do I care? Anyhow, you should see some of the valuable things I pick up to sell to the natives. Well, tell me, two years ago, when the landfares at the boat went down. You should have seen it. Everything that could float ended right up in my front yard. It was beautiful. How about when the sea legs was wrecked? You know, that's very funny, Mr. Balovonza. There was nothing, nothing at all. I don't understand it. Well, I think I do. I think I'm beginning to understand a lot of things about this case. Hang on, Oscar, we're flying back to Bluefields. Expense account item 12, 30 cents American taxi from the private airport where we'd rented the plane to the headquarters of the Federal Meritimei. I never will get that straight. Call it the Coast Guard and Captain Ramirez. See, Senor, on July, the heritage, the date, and at 1021, Captain. See, the tide at 1021 was just after what you call a neep. So it was neat, it was pretty. What does that mean? Oh, shut up, Oscar. Yeah, I see, Captain. Neep tide at 940. So it was coming in rising, huh? See, Senor, rising up. Go ahead, thanks, Captain. Here, buy yourself a cigar. Buy yourself a whole box. Gracias, Senor. Gracias. Come on, Oscar. Sure, Mr. Dowler, nothing for me? Later. Come on, we're going back to the airfield. And from there, we're going to fly down the coast again. But Mr. Dowler. And I feel so good I may even let you fly that plane this time. For a small pitense even? For a small pitense even. Now, drag out your best dialect and call that taxi over here. Item 13, six bucks for the Capitan. Item 14, 50 cents taxi back to the airfield. For some reason, the fare and the old Model T went up every time I used it. Or did Oscar wink some kind of a deal with the driver that he could cut in on later? Item 15, another 45 bucks for rental of the plane. And I'm sure it all went into Oscar's pocket. That his knowledge of the language enabled him to persuade the owner we shouldn't pay two rentals in one day. We headed south and made good time. Well, where are we going? Another few minutes and you'll be down to Costa Rica. What's that little seaport straight ahead? San Juan del Paro. And according to this map, it has a more than adequate landing field. Look, do you see what I see down there on it? Yeah, exactly what I hope to see. The twin of this plane. The plane in which Mrs. Landfair disappeared this morning. I'll land right beside it. No sooner said than my name is Oscar Catech. Vladimir Pastero. Don't these little fields have any personnel? If they get two planes a month, they think it's a crowd. But there must be somebody. There is a car back of the hunger. Good. Then we'll have transportation into town. You still haven't told me why you decided to come here, or was it because Mrs. Landfair did? That was something I didn't know until I saw that plane down there. All right, easy now. Don't land too close to it. I am in perfect control. Here we go. No, Oscar was a hunch, based on the fact I remembered that the sea lakes was built in this town. Hey, nice landing. Thank you, Mr. Dollar. Maybe a little extra bonus for such a good job of landing. If you don't stop talking about money, you're going to have to find yourself a... See, I'm like crazy. Isn't there someone in the cabin on that other plane? Hey, the car, it's going to go up to meet us. Hey, watch it, Oscar. That darn fool is heading right across our landing. Huh? Come the engine. He is a crazy country, see us? Hey, swing high, but don't flip us. Come on, more throttle. He is only there. Let's straighten up. Take off. I can't, but what do I do? Let me get those controls and hang on. Here he comes. He'll get our gear. Hang on. There was nothing but a vague blackness all about me. In the sound of our crack, I've seen a roll and I go almost dreamily back and forth in the deep recesses of my mind. And slowly, hazily, I hear... I seem to hear some of the sound. Yeah, like an engine far off. An engine of a plane starting up and lazily moving away. Sure, yeah, of course I did hear it. It was the other plane, the one that had been parked on the landing strip. Then as my mind began to clear, I realized I'd seen something, someone else. I'd caught a glimpse before the car struck our landing gear of the man behind the wheel of it. A man whose picture I'd seen briefly at the home of constant landfair. But it couldn't be. Am I still alive? Yeah, Oscar, I'm afraid you are. Thank you. But did you, oh, did you see who was driving that car? You recognize him? Look, maybe we are both dead like he is. And that's why we saw him. Douglas Landfair? Yes, sir. Mr. Douglas Landfair. Oh, here's our star to tell you about tomorrow's episode of This Week's Story. Tomorrow, the dark back streets of San Juan del Perro yield some valuable information and a threat of sudden death. And believe me, it isn't an idle threat. Join us, won't you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Johnny Dollar, starring Bob Bailey, is transcribed in Hollywood. It is produced and directed by Jack Johnstone, who also wrote This Week's Story. Be sure to join us tomorrow night, same time and station for the next exciting episode of Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar, Roy Rowan speaking.