 From Hollywood, it's time now for Edmund O'Brien as... Johnny Dollar. Oh, yes, Mrs. Colwell. I'm the investigator. Your insurance company is hired to look for your son. Yes, I am. When did you learn this? I don't... Insurance company is bound to operate from a basis of fact, not intuition. If you're going to be in this afternoon, I'd like to drop by and talk to you about them. Edmund O'Brien in another adventure of the man with the action-pact expense account. America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Expense account submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Dollar to Home Office, Britannia Life Insurance Company, Hartford, Connecticut. The following is an accounting of my expenditure during investigation of the Howard Colwell matter. Expense account item 1, $6.05, transportation round trip between my Hartford apartment and the Colwell country estate. From every angle inside and out, the place looked more like a museum than a dwelling. And Mrs. Colwell struck me as the mother of all the answers as to why boys leave home. I don't know why Howard left. I simply can't understand it. No mother could have been more devoted than I. Except school, I never left him alone for a moment. I made him share everything with me. I protected him and I advised him. And yes... Yeah. Well, now let's get these facts in order. Name, Howard, age 23, left here for San Francisco, California about a year ago. What was he doing in San Francisco? Oh, he was studying to be an artist. In a rather deceitful way, he knew I didn't approve. He told me he wanted to go to the coast to see a football game. Then he wired me that it had been delayed. And the next thing I knew, this letter arrived saying that he'd met some people out there, that he didn't need any money, and that he didn't roll in this art school. I didn't believe it. I knew he was in trouble then. What's the name of the school? The Orlando School of Art. I wrote and begged him to come back. And he answered that he thought it would be better if he didn't, as if he was being threatened. Why would anybody threaten him? Well, I don't know. He told me very little of what he was doing. That's why I knew he was in trouble, because we all were shared everything. He'd never kept secrets from me. I think you're exaggerating this thing, Mrs. Gordon. I tell you, I'm not. You haven't told me any one thing that I can... What should I think when he writes that I'll never see him again? When he tells me not to go to the police because he won't do any good, but he's gone to another life. Here. Here's the letter. Read it for yourself. The letter did say that. The date on it was a week old, and it went on to make other vague references to danger and death. But a statement that the mother had ignored came to my mind, closest to the truth. Howard Caldwell had written, If I had been mentally equipped for life as other people are, this wouldn't have happened, and I could have lived. This is Johnny Dollar, is he in? Oh, yes, Mr. Dollar. That's not a hint of there. How'd she happen at 20U? Hello? And it sounded vague. He's been writing his mother a lot of double talk that she's been interpreting in her own motherly way. He was supposed to come home this summer and didn't. I don't know what to make of it. If you want to find out anything, you won't get it from her. Oh, sure, but let's not share this with Mrs. C. She'd probably beat me out there. Fence County item 2, $200 airfare and incidental costs, Hartford to San Francisco. Fence County item 3, 170 cab fare from my hotel, the Bellevue, to the last known address of Howard Caldwell. A brownstone in a row of brownstones on Taylor, a street that climbs one of San Francisco's seven hills. The apartment house manager was in, and would oblige. He hasn't been here for a week and a half. I have been taking his mail up to his apartment. Box gets so full, they can't get any more in. The apartment is still in his name. He paid up three months in advance. Do you mind if I look it over? I suppose it's all right if you were trying to help us. It's up to you. Did Mr. Caldwell say anything to you about leaving? No, he didn't. I hope there isn't any trouble. But you'd think he'd come for some of his clothes if there wasn't, wouldn't you? They're still here. I couldn't help noticing after he'd been gone so long, without a word. Oh, sure. Yeah, this is it. $22 after you. Thanks. There's all his mail on the table. I hope everything's all right. He's a nice, likable young man. Know any of his friends? Well, no, I don't. I expect he had some, though. He was out at night lots. He never came home drunk or anything, though. Well, if you don't mind, I think I'll run through the place. I won't be long. I suppose it's all right as long as I'm here. After I'd finished, I knew very little about how at Caldwell that I hadn't already known. The letters on the table were as to be expected all for his mother. A drawer and a bedside table gave me something too odd to be ignored. 25 or 30 match folders, all from bars or restaurants, all empty of matches, and each marked in pencil with a date. The earliest May 4th, 1950, the most recent, September 12th. A closet gave me a portfolio of sketches from various perspectives, and they looked like a brunette. Nothing else in the place seemed to point in any direction, so I copied the addresses on the match folders and helped myself with three of the most descriptive sketches. Expense account item 4, $1.30 CAV fare to the Orlando School of Arts. I'm Beatrice Orlando. Did you wish to see me? Yes, I'm a private investigator from Hartford, Connecticut. I'm here trying to locate a student of yours. Howard Caldwell. That's right. Your fan. Not at all. I take a personal interest in my students. It was so strange the way he just stopped coming to class. He was doing so nicely and seemed to enjoy his work. Isn't he trouble? I don't know. I wonder if you could tell me which of his classmates were personal friends of his. I don't think any of them were. Yeah. Look at these. Yeah, that's Howard's work. Excellent, don't you think? And that model, he must be a gorgeous girl. Isn't she one of your models? I only wish she were. It's remarkable, the lines and planes. Yeah. Do you think she's real? Drawn from life, of course. No wonder he didn't bother to make friends here. Expense account item 5, $45 CAV fare. That night I started making the rounds of the addresses I'd copied from Howard Caldwell's collection of dated match folders. They led me from San Francisco's North Beach section to another area called the Mission, across the bay to the city of Oakland, and back to San Francisco. The only pattern I could set up was that none of the joints were worth remembering. They were neighborhood bars as a rule. And the routine in each was about the same, except that the one called the stop sign. Is the drink all right, mister? Yeah, it's fine. Say, I wonder if you could help me? How? I'm looking for an old friend of mine. I understand he used to come into this sign. Here. This is a photograph of him. Name's Howard. No. No, I don't remember him. I got a mind for faces, too. And then look at this. It's only a sketch. Have you ever seen a girl who looks like this? Is this a gag? No, it isn't. Make sure they could what be. You mean this is a drawn of a real dame? That's right. And for 10 or 20 bucks extra, I can have the genuine photograph to hang up behind my get out of here. Wait a minute. Has somebody tried to sell you a deal like that? You're the first, and I can tell you won't go over in this time. I'm not trying to sell you anything. Well, then go someplace else and don't try. I never saw the guy or the dame, and I don't expect a good night. Hey, let me see a picture, will you? Now, I'm acting private. Wait a minute. Maybe I know who she is. Why should you? Because I know everybody who comes to this bar. If her boyfriend's name is Howard, I bet I know him. That's what I said it was. Did you say it was called, well? Where can we talk? Come on, that's all right. Know where Caldwell is? Yes, I know where he is. Keep it quiet. Hey. We'll both keep it quiet, huh? I'll take this out of your ribs if you play ball. That's a deal. Up to the corner, then, and across the street. Now, of course, that parking lot. The Yellow Club Coupe. That don't bother memorizing the license number. It's funny. Here he is. How are you? I'm fine. Thanks for asking. Get in the back. We could drive out toward the beach, J.V. What do you think? It's better in here. I'll bring over to Fulton and take that out. How'd you get the addresses of these bars? How did you find out about me? We've been waiting for somebody to show up. Been watching his apartment. We saw you go in him and tell you about school. Is Caldwell alive? Yeah, but he won't stay that way if people start crying. Why not? Who hired you? I'm a private investigator. I'm not supposed to tell people things like that. We aren't getting any place, are we? Now, look, from where you sit, how is it gonna hurt you to tell us? You're working for the old lady? His insurance company. They carry him in the polytheon. Lay off, J.V., it's not funny. It's devil it is. Stupid jerk. Watch it, J.V., will you? I want to go one thing to say, though. I stopped looking for them. Leave things the way they are. I'm giving you the best advice anybody could. Drop it. Go on home. Can't do it. I'm stuck. You ought to understand that. It's my business. If I give up on one job, I'll never get another. Yeah, I guess you could have pointed to that. Drive him back to his hotel, J.V. This is a failure, isn't it? Yeah, wait a minute, wait a minute. Yeah, what is it? Send me some coffee, will you? And the early examiner. Cigarettes later, room service arrived. The headline read, Syndicate head found slain in auto trunk. Benjamin Miller, Western gang chief, shot to death. I didn't see how there could be any connection between a dead mobster and the Howard Caldwell man. But that only proves how wrong an investigator can be. In just a moment, we will return to the second act of your truly Johnny Duller starring Edmund O'Brien. But first, to more of Radio's greatest stars, check in at CBS The Stars Address this Sunday night. The first you'll hear are Amos and Andy. Then a little later this Sunday, we welcome Red Skelton back from summer vacation. With Joey Adams, Eve Arden, Jack Benny, and Coralus Archer already on hand to bring you great comedy, be sure you add Amos and Andy and Red Skelton to your Sunday night listening date, starting this Sunday over most of the same CBS station. And now back to our star, Edmund O'Brien, and the second act of your truly Johnny Duller. The story under the headlines went on to explain that Benjamin Miller's body had been found in an abandoned car after a phone tip at 11.15 the preceding night. The gang chief had been shot to death approximately a week before. It was feared that an underworld war would be touched off by the killing since eastern operators allegedly had threatened to force Miller out of business on the west coast. The police had decided to play a waiting game. No lead in all that. But on page four, there was a picture. Ben Miller in happier days. At his side stood a brunette that matched the one in Caldwell's sketches point for point. Nora Rush with an address on Ardmore Street in Los Angeles. Is this a hotel or the travel agency? It's all mystics. Now I want to leave for Los Angeles quickly as I can. What plane is there? Oh, thank you, late angel. Just one more thing. If I get any calls, you don't know where I am, huh? Expense account item seven, five dollars cab fare and five dollars tip for a taxi driver who got me to the airport in 20 minutes. Item eight, twenty dollars, United Airlines to Los Angeles. And item nine, same as seven, taxi trip to Nora Rush's Ardmore Street address. I arrived there at 9.15. She was still in a robe when she answered the door but the trace of makeup which was all she needed for her face and the soft hairdo made me wonder if she was expecting me. There's certainly no reason to be anything but truthful. Yes, I've been expecting you. Won't you come in, Mr. Thomas? Thanks. Come in here. You have good friends in San Francisco. Yes, I have. Very good friends. Just put your coat anyplace and sit down. Thank you. Well, then I take it they've told you why I'm on the west coast. Yes. You've come to look for Howard Colwell. And there's coffee. Would you like some? No, thanks. I've had plenty. Do you know where he is? No. No, I don't. No, I don't know where he is. Come on. Now stop that. It was the end of the test run. I rattled around the rest of the place for almost an hour while I waited for her to come out of the bedroom. I didn't feel like snooping but I couldn't help seeing a framed photograph that had been hastily hidden under a mat on the piano. It was young Colwell. But not the subdued dead-faced kid in the picture I'd gotten at his Connecticut estate. Instead, a guy with some enthusiasm and his friendly eyes. I was in the kitchen drinking the coffee when she came out. Wait. Waiting for you? Why don't you leave? Well, if I did, somebody else just like me would show up. Maybe he'd make you unhappier than I do. That kind of a racket. I sympathize with you. You should. You put me on the defensive. I hadn't noticed. How did I do that? You started by posing for some sketches. You're stronger in person. You saw them? Yeah. In the hotel room in San Francisco. Or at least that's where I left them. Who else saw them? Few bartenders and his art teacher. You little fool. Tell me you described them. You say bartenders? Yeah. He had a match folder collection all dated from a series of nondescript hideaway type bars. How could he have been so stupid? Could he have been in love? Why didn't that go out of his mind? He lied to me. He told me there was nothing to link us together. What's the difference if there is? Of course. Because Howard killed Ben Miller. And nobody will believe it now. Why won't they believe it? It was my gun. Registered? Yes. Where is it? Howard. As it's hidden. I loved him and all that. But the truth is... You haven't told me. I will. I will not tell it. I have to tell it. Come on over here. How did you meet Caldwell? I was going with Ben Miller. Not because I thought anything about him, but he was so powerful out here. I just come from Chicago. Caldwell? Well, it was one of those parties. Some of the models from the Orlando school were invited to fill out. It was a hard school, and one of the girls had talked to him in the coming. That's all we met. There was something about him. I don't know. This was in May, I take it. I think so. Spring. He was supposed to go home for the summer and didn't. I'd meet him in these bars, and he'd come to my place when Ben was out of town. He wanted to sketch me, so that's not important. Ben saw me meet him and followed us to my apartment. This was at your place? You had an apartment in San Francisco? Ben hit me, and Howard went for the gun and killed him. He knew where you kept the gun? Yes. Why? How did he know? In case he ever needed it. Miller's body was sound stuffed into the trunk of a car. You don't believe it, do you? Well, there are little things like how did he manage to get the body into the trunk of that car, and how did he manage to steal the car? I'll tell you. He had help. Everybody knew that combination from the east was moving in on Ben, so they've been trying to help Howard. And he was all right when you came out here. Oh, that's a pretty good setup. Ben Miller would be checked off as a gang-killing, the kind they so seldom get around to solving. When it cooled off, you could take up where you dropped him. I didn't kill him. A plural, you. You're all in it, but I can't quite figure it. What? Why those two friends of yours who picked me up last night will go to bat for a worthless eastern aristocrat? They want to help him. Why? Well, because he's my friend. Why should anybody help Howard? You don't want him to die for it, do you? Do you? Of course not. We're trying to help him. What are you going to do? Well, the Frisco police are combing the city for leads on the scene of the murder, the murder weapon, and the definite link between dead man and killer. I seem to be sitting on all three. You aren't going to the police. It depends on how fast you tell me where Corbwell is. I want to hear his version of the scene. I don't know where he is. I told you that. Yeah, I know you did. Wait. Just a minute, please. Oh, will you stop it? Just listen to me. I know what you think of me, and I know you don't believe me. But I wish you were just for a little while. How long? An hour or so. My brothers are flying down. You'll be here by noon. Brothers? And then you met last night. I wish you before you do anything. You won't be alive. I wish you had hit me over the head with something. That's a funny thing to say. Well, what I mean is that that kind of trouble makes me mad enough to fight. Here they are, Johnny. I'll go. Wait a minute. Sit down. We're back in business again. Gorgeous. Sorry. All right. Go ahead. Come in. Where's the other one? First of all, sorry, I couldn't get here faster. Are you all right? I'm all right, Al. Tell them how it happened. Yes. She told me we made a deal. I wouldn't phone the police until I talk to you. Still stand. Can I get you anything else? Yeah, a drink would help. Look, dollar, for some reason, my sister fell for this kid. I guess it was the first time in her life that something decent came along for her. She wanted to marry her and it fell to pieces when Caldwell lost his head and shot Ben. What really happened now? Ben made a lot of threats and stirred up all the mud in Nora's life. She tried to stop him. He slugged her and that was it. Were you there? No, I wasn't. But that's what happened. Leave it alone, dollar. Ben had the finger on him anyway. Why not let it cool off? There are a number of reasons. Unfortunately, I'm burdened down with a vague but heavy thing called ethics. Said it's on my license. Another thing, if I forget it, it makes me an accessory to the killing. The most important at the moment is the fact that I'm not sure that Caldwell is guilty. Keep coming, dollar. It would make more sense if you were protecting your sister instead of that punk. Would you agree? It's not cool. Stay out of it, honey. Isn't that why all of you have been working so hard to keep me away from Caldwell? Because you don't want me to hear his pitch. Okay, I'll take you to him. He's here in Los Angeles. Al. For the drink. I'm giving ground, dollar. What do I get from you? You've already gotten it. I didn't call the police. Somebody is going to blow your head off one of these times, dollar. He's a kind of garage, honey. This is it. Upstairs. Quite a come down for a scientist. That's a good spot for him. You could live in this part of town for a hundred years. Nobody would know who you were or what you were unless you wanted them to. Up the front here. Howard. Howard. It's Al, Howard. What about it, Al? What's this? They told him not to leave. No clothes. It's an empty room, Al. Where he was? You checked downstairs. He was the same. The name Harris. Save it, Al. There's only one place who'll go to notice. I'll try the rest of this without you. You've got nothing but a mouthful of lies. I don't want any of them. Yes, he's been here all morning. Right after you didn't hit outside. He's like a crazy... Where is he? In the bedroom. You stay here. My first sight of the all-important Howard Caldwell was not a pleasant one. He was face down on the bed, his head buried in a pillow and his body shaking with starved. It took 30 minutes of treatment, some of it not too gentle. They got him into a chair and a reasonably sane state. I'm glad you came. I'm glad you found me. I'm glad to talk to somebody who is stupid. I want you to calm down, Howard, and tell me what happened. What happened? Do you know her? My daughter. She didn't want to marry me. She wanted to marry my respectable name. Money. Who killed Ben Miller? I did. I killed him because I didn't know what else to do. Because I've lived with these people, these low-class people, and I began to think like them. Because I've never thought for myself all my life. I've never done anything before. Anything. I killed Ben Miller and it's the only thing I've ever done all by myself. Why did you risk all this to protect him? I don't know. Because there was something that drew us together. He was lost, and so was I. And I figured it was my fault I'd drawn him into my life. He hadn't drawn me into his. I thought I owed to him. But he's a snob, isn't he? Yeah. Yeah, I'm afraid so. He called me a tramp. But I guess when you take a guy like him who wants to get away from his kind of life and a dame like me who wants to get away from her kind and neither one can figure it out. What can you expect but trouble? I guess she summed it up as well as anybody could. I turned him into a murderer and those who try to help him is accessorized. It's for the legal brains to decide whether the policy holder will live or be executed. Spent to count item 10, $200, miscellaneous. Item 11 is item 2, transportation back to Hartford. Excount total $1,050. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar, stars Edmund O'Brien in the title role and was written by Gil Dowd with music by Wilbur Hatch. Edmund O'Brien may soon be seen in the Paramount Picture War Pass featured in our cast were Lorraine Tuttle, John McIntyre, Bob Sweeney, High Everback, John Boehner, Gene Bates, and Jeanette Lowland. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar is produced and directed by Jaime Del Valle. Join us next week at the same time when from Hollywood, Edmund O'Brien returns in another adventure of... Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. This is Roy Rowan speaking. Stay tuned now for Vaughn Monroe's caravan which follows immediately over most of these same CBS stations. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.