 From Hollywood, it's time to offer Edmund O'Brien as Johnny Dollar. Mickey McQueen, honey. How are you? Mickey? I tried to phone you a couple of times, but I never reached you. And I'm out a lot these days, too. Well, I heard about your promotion to Sergeant Mickey. Nice going. Well, you really sound worried. Mickey, what is it? Nothing. Sure, Mickey. I'll be here any time you want to come up. Edmund O'Brien at a transcribed adventure of the man with the action-packed expense account. America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Because truly, Johnny Dollar. Expense accounts submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Dollar to whom it may concern Hartford Police Headquarters, Hartford, Connecticut. I don't expect you to honor this statement. But since the reports to my regular employers go in on these forms, the following is an accounting of my expenditures during my personal investigation of the Mickey McQueen matter. You may wonder how I got mixed up in it. Well, it's been my privilege to have worked a number of cases with Mickey McQueen here in Hartford, and through the years, a friendship developed between us. So when he phoned Tuesday night to say he wanted to talk to me, I was glad to ask him up. But when it got to be 1.30 in the morning and he still hadn't arrived, I wasn't so glad. He arrived at 2. I'm sorry I'm late, Johnny. Yeah, well, I held you up. I was about to drop off. I had to sink, Johnny. Not in uniform, Mickey. What about your beat? Yeah, my beat won't miss me. After 20 years of walking it from Dr. Dorn, checking at stores, and passing the time of night with its people drunk and sober. Yeah. Is it too late for a drink, Mickey? I got your brand, some Irish. Yes, that was good of you. I, uh... I've been a good policeman, Johnny. I can say that without sounding like I'm stuck on myself, can't I now? I've never heard anybody else say anything else, Mickey. And I've got more friends to my credit than I have arrests. I'll say that. But I've got a quiet beat. I think you're a quieter beat in town, maybe you're lucky. Here's to it. All right. But be careful what it is. There's murder being done and planned right this minute, Johnny, and them that could stop it don't have the heart right or wrong. What are you talking about? I know what I'm talking about. Are you feeling all right? I'm as healthy as I was yesterday, ain't I now? I didn't see you yesterday. He had to take in my job, putting me behind the desk. It'd be great an end for a man that's been active for 20 years. After 20 years and your feet, you should take a rest. You've earned one. The very words of the commission, Johnny. But, Johnny, I... Yeah, Mickey? The devil takes them all, I've used up another year. Now, wait a minute. You came over to talk about something more than your new job. What's this stuff about murder being planned and being done? I shouldn't have said it, I wish you'd forget it. What's the matter with you? You know me well enough to tell me? You know me well enough to know I'll keep any confidence you want me to keep. You're a good friend, Johnny. Maybe that's why I've changed my mind about telling you. Then why did you come over? Because I thought I was going to talk to you, but I'm not now. All right, it's your business. But you're acting like a kid. Now, if you don't have anything to say to me, it's after two. I may have a job in the morning. All right, Johnny. I'm sorry I bothered you. I'll say good night. I didn't sleep very well for the rest of the night. In sort of a half dose, parts of Mickey's conversation kept coming back to me. And the more sleep I lost over it, the more I wished I'd been less grumpy and more sympathetic. There wasn't a job for me the next day, and right afternoon I decided to drop by his apartment and find out his move when he was off duty. Mickey's apartment occupied the ground floor of a narrow gray row house not far from mine. I could hear a woman crying somewhere inside. I smelled domestic trouble, but I pushed the buzzer anyway. I yielded. I'm Johnny Dollar, a friend of Mr. McQueen's. Oh yeah, Johnny Dollar. He said to phone you if I ever needed. Is he home? In there. She pointed in the direction of a door smaller than the outside door. So either a bathroom or a closet. It was a closet. The clothes were bunched at one end of the rod and from the other still in uniform. His own polished leather belt drawn tightly around his neck. I'm Mickey McQueen. I walked back into the lace curtain living room. The woman who had let me in was in her middle 30s. She wore too much makeup and her white blonde hair was anything but natural. She stopped crying and she acted as if she were waiting for me to start something. Well, what about it? Do you explain yourself or do I get three guesses? Never mind that look. I only live here. I didn't know Mickey had a wife. Maybe he was ashamed of me. My name is Thelma. I'm sorry, Thelma. You're an old friend of Mickey's? Yeah, but he never told me about you. Had you seen him lately? Last night, first he phoned me, then he came by to talk to me. What did he say? I'm not sure. He was pretty handy with double talk. Maybe I was supposed to understand it, but I didn't. What was it about? About his job, change he was making, and something about murders being planned and done and nobody doing anything to stop them. Then he didn't tell you. What? That I was leaving him. He's never mentioned you. Why were you leaving him? Not because it was all wrong. I never should have married him in the first place. Why did you? Because he was the kindest, most wonderful man I'd ever lived. Does that answer your question? Not quite. Is there more? Did you know his first wife? Yeah. Well, then I guess you know he took her death pretty hard. He'd been married ten years. I met him after she died. He was lonely, and so was I. Well, he was pretty wonderful to me. I thought I could help him. It wasn't because of him I was leaving, it was me. But I never thought he'd do this. I don't think he did. What do you mean? I think he was murdered. Why? When did you find him? Oh, I came home about a half hour before you got here. Have you phoned the police? Not yet. I didn't know what to do. Where'd you been? I told you I was leaving him. I've been living in a hotel. Does it matter? Well, why'd you come back? Well, just to get some things I'd left. Why are you asking me these things? Well, it's murder. There's bound to be a lot of questions. I don't think it was. Everybody loved him. He didn't have an enemy in the world. Why would anybody want to kill a man like Mickey McQueen? After the rest of the day, I tried to talk myself into leaving the matter in the hands of the police where it belonged. But I couldn't do it. That night, I started making the rounds of Mickey's beef. I talked to a corner magazine vendor who had sold him a mystery. A woman and a cigar store who had talked with him and a cabbie who had borrowed five bucks from him. None of them gave me anything helpful. My next stop was the Cedric Hotel where I looked up the house detective, Ned Martin. Ah, poor old Mickey. I'll miss him. So will I. Did you see him last night? Yeah, he dropped in. He always did once or twice a night just to shoot the breeze, you know. Why did he do it? Did he leave a note or anything? I think he was murdered. What makes you say that? Came over to see me about 2.30 this morning. There was something on his mind. He wanted to talk about it, but he wouldn't. Well, that figures. What do you mean? I noticed something about him last night. He was real low. I asked him what was the matter. He said it was because it was his last night and he's beat. He was supposed to check into his new job today. But that didn't sound right to me. Did you know he had a wife? Yeah, I heard about it. Then I hounded him until he showed me a picture of it. Bleached blonde? Yeah, she looks it. I didn't want to embarrass him by asking, but I wondered about it. What makes you think it was murder, Donald? Do you think Mickey was the type to kill himself? Well, no, but how can you tell? I guess you can't. All you can do is try to find out. Well, if you don't have anything more, I'll be on my way. Wait a minute. I guess it was a dirty trick and I wish I hadn't done it, but I snooped that marriage. I found out who she was. Her name was Thelma Weaver. She did a couple of years at Joliet. Where'd you get that? Things like that don't stay hidden. I'd drop it if I were you. I really would. What are you holding out on me? It's for your own good, Johnny. I'll shake it out of you if I have to. Okay, hero. Hello, Fred Coole. I can't cut a club over in Bartlett. I know of him. He's a police informer, isn't he? They're part-time. If you won't take my advice and forget it, go talk to him. And don't tell him who sent you. I want to talk to you about Mickey McQueen. Do you have an office? Your cop too? Only a private one. I was a friend of Mickey's. Oh, sure. Roy! Yes? I'm in my office for a little while. If there's any trouble, buzz me. Roger, Fred. Come on. Let's work. How was the night, Fred? Sure. Sometimes I get a lot of out-of-town trade. Did you see Mickey last night? No, I didn't. I get along fine with Mickey. He won't take any pay off, but he don't push me around. How is he? Do you know his wife? His wife? I didn't even know he was married. Her name was Thelma Weaver before Mickey married her. She did some time and jolly it. Why do you bother me with this? I've got work to do. You knew Mickey was dead? No, I didn't know that. I don't see how it would be enough, but it struck me that if somebody knew he was married to an ex-con, they might try to use the information. I suppose you're right. Yeah? Roy, Fred, I think it better come out. Important? Yes, I think so. Be right out. Pardon me, darling. A little trouble outside. Wait here. I'll come right back. While I did, I took a quick look around the office for another way out in case I might need it. There wasn't any unless the steel door and one of the walls was it. But before I could try it, the other door opened. I wasn't expecting Fred Koo to return so quickly. The night I was I expecting who did come in. I didn't expect to find you here, Mr. Dollar. Likewise. Mrs. McQueen. I was looking for Mr. Koo. What for? I thought I might help if I could. Mickey kept this notebook, you see, where he wrote down all the places he stopped when he made his rounds. This place was one of them. I thought if I could talk to this Mr. Koo. Did you know Fred Koo? I know. You know anybody named Weaver, Thelma Weaver? All right, Mr. That's enough. Reach. Don't be crazy. What good would that do? Stay where you are. Don't try anything. I really mean it. She looked like she really meant it. It was a small revolver called 25. I didn't know whether she had come in meaning to use it on Fred Koo or me. But it didn't make much difference at the moment. She had it pointed at my midsection. I couldn't figure it. She held her little revolver as if she was used to the feel of it. But there had been something accuracy about the way she said reach. I couldn't figure her, but I decided not to take a chance. I grabbed up the inkwell from the desk and threw not it, but the contents at her. Hey, what's it? Okay, drop it. Drop it. Drop it. Now, sit down. All right. What do you want? That depends on what you want. I told you. I want to find out who killed Mickey. At the apartment earlier today, you didn't think anybody had. What about it? All right, Johnny. How much do you know? Your name was Telmah Weaver that you spent two years in Joliet. That's right. That's right. And after two years in that place, I didn't want to go back to the life and start all over again. I gave the bunch in Chicago the slip and came here. I was hanging around trying to pick up enough to pay my way to Florida or some place. And that's how I met Mickey. He arrested me. Vagrancy. What a laugh. He showed and caught the next morning and got me released in his custody. He treated me like a daughter. He loaned me some money, offered to get me a job, and I really felt for the first time like I could start life all over again. Oh, I know it sounds corny, but... But good. You make it sound real good. You don't believe me, do you? True. I believe you as far as you've gone. I even believe the part about starting a new life. You saw that Mickey had a heart as big as the city and you didn't lose any time moving into it. That was smart. It was about the safest hiding place you could have found. For you, but not for Mickey. How did I know about Fred Coo? Somebody spotted me and told him. And he didn't waste any time getting in touch with Chicago. Those men out there, they all from Chicago? Well, most of them. Did you spot the tall one? He talks with an English accent. Yeah, I remember him. Roy? That's him. He came first. He checked the possibilities on Mickey speaking. Then he found out about Mickey being moved over to a new job. Where was he being moved? Some desk job. Where? At the police arsenal. The arsenal? How did Roy find that out? I told him. I had to. He made me tell him. What are Roy's plans, do you know? Yeah, the Marquardt building. The one that has all the wholesale jewelers. No, that's no good. Mickey was supposed to help them with a job of that size or they'd reveal that he was married to an ex-con. That's not enough. They must have more than that on you or him. Oh, I might as well tell you. Can't hurt me now any more than I've been hurt. His name is Roy Weaver. I'm married to him. He threatened to bring bigamy charges and let Mickey help them. That would do it. Well, your record bigamy would be a long stretch. Yeah, five years. Mickey would do almost anything rather than cause me to. Who killed him? Roy did. I wasn't there. I swear I wasn't. But they met him after he got through work at 5.30 this morning. Why did they kill him? Mickey was already for his new job and he had the keys to the arsenal. Here's your gun. If you're on the level you may need it and the caliber's too small to do me any good. What are you going to do? I'm going to the police. Why not use the phone? It'll be tapped and it would take too long to explain it. That bunch of being here before I got started. I wouldn't try it if I were you. I'm going home. I was waiting for Fred Coo, but I guess he decided not to bother. Fred had to leave. Did Mrs. Weaver entertain you with a sordid story? Yeah, it was very pleasant. It was a charming girl. You were going home to think about it. Well, if you don't mind, get out of my way. Carl, Benson. Cohen. I'm afraid I do mind. I couldn't chance having Fred interrupted at the arsenal. Get out of my way. Hey, where you gone? Come on, come on. That's enough. Ah, that's fine, Carl. Now, shall we go back to the office and wait? Bring him along, Carl. It's a pity you became involved in this dollar. I'd hope there wouldn't have to be any more violence. Yes, thanks for the buzz, darling. Oh, it was a pleasure. Look what the skunk did to my dress. Did Fred get startled all right? He's well on his way. He'll be back within the hour. Hey, Mr. Weaver, what do we do with this guy? Oh, keep him out of the way. Put him in there and see that he stays quiet. Fool. Hey, you, turn around. At least I found out what was behind the steel door I'd noticed earlier in the evening. When my eyes opened and I got accustomed to the light from a single dust-covered bulb, I realized that I was in a sort of wine cellar. There were some bottles, but most of the storage space was taken up by a large and buried assortment of birdless tools. There were a few weapons, too, but I knew they were nothing compared to what Fred would bring back if the rate on the arsenal was successful. I glanced at my watch at 11.15, and right after that, I heard the heavy latch on the door being turned. I got back into my position on the floor, closed my eyes, and listened. Don't forget the bars, Carl. You'll need them for the inside doors. I gotcha. Hey, Benson, you take these, I'll bring the rest. You want the guns in there, Mr. Weaver? We won't need them. We won't need them. Uh, uh, Crocker. Yeah? Listen closely now. We're behind schedule, both cars are in back. In the Buick, you'll find the things from the arsenal. Yeah. I want you to move half of them over into the Cadillac. What about the Grenades, Roy? They're in a case marked CN-DM, Irritant Gas M6. I got it. Open the case and put half in the Buick. The most important is the cordoid powder for the vaults. Two boxes. Put one in the trunk of each car. Right. Be careful. It's very touchy stuff. Yeah, I know. I've handled it before. All right, get along then, and hurry. It will take long. Now, Fred will be in charge of one car. I'll be in the other. It's all right. We'll agree that we'll meet at the North entrance at quarter past midnight, both to approach the building from the east on Lincoln. You will have dropped two men to guard the south entrance. Two of my men will subdue the guard at the north. The better they'll spin the alarm in a big hurry. You can trust me. They'll use Thompson's. Thomas! Yes, sir. What are you doing? Don't be so snoopy. I'm going to throw them a nose. You're coming with us. All right. You want me to? I don't need you, but I don't think I should feel safe without you with me. Don't be long. I'll be right back. Think everything is ready from in here, Mr. Weaver. Good. Go to the cars then, Carl. What about the Seamus did? Oh, lock him up again. We will decide what to do when we come back. I guess he can't cause no harm in there. I'd have forced the door that time using one of the bars they had left behind, but I couldn't do anything with it. Then I started poking the cement walls. I knew better than to expect to find any other exit, but with the biggest burglary and the history of Hartford underway, I had to do something. I kept a check on the time, and it was 20 minutes before they were due to arrive at the Marquardt building when a sound stopped me. The steel door was being opened. I moved behind it, still holding my bar. Yeah, Martin, I'm here. How did you know I was here? Some dame for the hotel. She told me you were here. Why should she call you? How should I know? I don't even know who it was. She just said she knew you came to the hotel and that you were locked up in here. I mentioned the Calcutta to you, so I came over to see what it was all about. What's the matter? Don't you believe me? I don't know what to believe. You said you were holding something out on me when I talked to you. I was. I knew Fred Koo was selling the information about Mickey's wife to some guns from Chicago. I knew it could have led to trouble. I thought it was. Mine, too. I didn't want you to know so much. You'd have to tell where you learned it to prove how smart you were. I don't like this kind of stuff. You got a car? Yeah, but it stays right where it's parked until you tell me what's going on. This Chicago bunch raided the police arsenal. They're armed with everything from cordite to Tommy guns. They're going into the Marquardt building in less than 20 minutes. What's that? Wholesale jewelers. Would you take me out there? I'll take you partway if you're crazy enough to want to go. That's good enough. Let's get into the office. It's dead. Who'd you want, police? Yeah. We could stop on the way. It'll take us 15 minutes to get to the Marquardt building. If we run into a patrol car on the way, we'll stop it. If we don't, you can drop me and then phone in. Where's your car? At the speed we traveled, we should have at least picked up a traffic cop if we didn't. Martin wouldn't take me any closer than the corner of Atlantic and Milton. We reached there at 12 minutes after 12. That gave me two minutes to get to the Marquardt building. I didn't make it before they arrived, but it didn't make any difference. Cars had pulled up and were unloading men. From a doorway about 50 yards down, I spotted Fred Koo and Roy Weaver. Then I saw Thelma. She got out of the Buick and started toward me. Weaver shouted at her, but she didn't answer. Instead, she stopped, and I saw the little gun glitter in her hand as she turned back to them. Then I saw what she was aiming at. The trunk of the Buick, where the cordite powder was. Then gasoline, and she moved back toward the other. That was it. Thelma Weaver McQueen, as the department knows, was DOA at emergency hospital. None of the mob got out alive except Roy Weaver, who lived long enough to sign a confession to making McQueen's murder. I want you to know that I may have lost a good friend, but you have lost a better policeman. I hope to see those early news accounts that call them a suicide corrected. Expense account total, no dollars and no cents. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar, stars Edmund O'Brien in the title role and is written by Gil Daud with music by Wilbur Hatch. Edmund O'Brien's latest picture is the Paramount Pictures production, The Redhead and the Cowboy. Featured in tonight's cast were Bill Conrad, Martha Wentworth, Herb Butterfield, Jack Moyles and Ray Hartman. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar, was transcribed in Hollywood by Jaime Del Valle. This is Dick Cutting inviting you to join us next week at this time when Edmund O'Brien returns as... Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. There'll be fast-moving, true police adventure on CBS Tonight when Gangbusters comes your way again on most of these same stations. This evening, Gangbusters presents The Case of the Stranger in the Hall. Stay tuned now for five minutes of the latest news. This is CBS, where you'll have attacked Benny every Sunday night, and be a broadcasting system.