Yours Truly Johnny Dollar Radio

Johnny Dollar - Death Takes a Working Day

https://www.solgoodmedia.com - Listen to hundreds of audiobooks, thousands of short stories, and ambient sounds all ad free! Relive the excitement of Yours Truly Johnny Dollar Radio, where each episode revisits the classic tales of Johnny Dollar, the iconic freelance insurance investigator. Discover how Johnny unravels mysteries and battles crimes primarily through sharp wit and keen perception. This series is a treasure trove for enthusiasts of vintage radio dramas and detective mysteries.

Duration:: 32m
Broadcast on:: 02 Jul 2024
Audio Format:: mp3

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Call 1-800-granger, click Ranger.com, or just stop by. Granger, for the ones who get it done. I'm now for Edmund Dobrion as your truly Johnny Dollar. Edmund Dobrion, starring in another adventure of America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator, Johnny Dollar. At insurance investigation, Johnny Dollar is only an expert. At making out his expense account, he's an absolute genius. Expense account, submitted by special investigator, Johnny Dollar, to the great Colombian life insurance company. The following is an accounting of my expenditures during the investigation of the circumstances surrounding the murder of your policyholder, loyal B Martin, or how to take a vacation in Fairfield County. Expense account item 1, $3.20, mileage from Oxford, Connecticut to the country a state of the deceased. I draw up a long cement driveway towards a mausoleum-type manor house. There were rolling green lawns liberally sprinkled with statuary, and the thought occurred to me that if he had spent much of his life here, the late Mr. Martin was most fortunate. He'd feel right at home in the cemetery. Yes? My name is Dollar. I'm here to see Mrs. Martin. Oh, yes. Mrs. Martin. I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. The widow has gone shopping the day after the death of her husband. Something attractive and morning clothes, I'm sure. Well, what time is she expected back? I have no idea. It shouldn't be long. Do you mind if I come in and wait? You'll forgive my asking, young man, but just what is your business here at Loyal Haven? I was in here by the insurance company. Oh, why, yes. Well, then you come in. I'm in here, right in here. I'm the accountant of the Mr. Dollar. I was with Mr. Martin for over 30 years. He was a wonderful man. The furniture also looks like it might have been with Mr. Martin for over 30 years. Victorian, isn't it? Yes. Pure. Loyal. Mr. Martin, that is, was an expert on the Victorian period. Please sit down. Thank you. On Mr. Dollar, I suppose you'll think it's him, delicate at the time that, about Loyal's insurance, his policies, did they? Yes, Mr. Tompkins, they did. One of his policies leaves you a nice, sizable amount. But before you start counting it, maybe you and I have better have a little understanding. Yeah? Well, I'm not here to represent the payoff department. I'm here to investigate the murder. Oh, well, I see. Yes, before the company pays off, they want to make sure that among the beneficiaries they don't pay off the murder, because they really don't have to do that. Oh, I didn't realize. Neither do a lot of people. You know, it's the way quite a few good murders are wasted. Yes, I suppose you're right. Well, that's what you're here for. I suppose you want to talk to the police. Lieutenant Markwood is in the library. That's where it happened. Oh, the library, huh? Well, that might help. If I can't find any other answers, I can always try looking some up in a book. Which way do I go? The door just across the hall. Thank you. And Waterhall, the only thing missing was Old Queen Victoria herself. Even the musty odor clinging to the green bell that seemed to have been passed down through the centuries. There was a brace of more, more beaten pheasants on the wall, and a bouquet of more beaten flowers under glass on a marble top side table. The library was the same, but there were three things that looked out of place. A, an old suit of armor. B, a glass case filled with new well-polished sporting rifles and shotguns. And C, a very gruff-looking lieutenant of the police. Wied me as I came in. And who are you? Oh, here, here's my little breath-saver. Yeah, Johnny Dollar. They told me you'd be here. Well, I've told everybody else about it. Tell you, don't touch anything. They want to refing the whole room. Okay, okay. What'd you find, Lieutenant? Nothing but the cadaver with two bullet holes in his back. Haven't got a caliber report from ballistics yet. Have you an estimated time of departure? Yeah, the coroner says Martin died after dinner last night. Anything to go on? Yes, the usual face-hoping suspicion. His wife, too young and too pretty for an ugly old buck like Martin, must have married him for his money. Then there's that housekeeper, Sarah Tompkins. Yeah, I met her on the way in. And she used to be the old man's intended from what I can find out, probably jealous of the young wife. Then there's the brother Marty. He showed up a few weeks ago, broke and brooding, probably in love with the young wife. And then there's Nick Boladi, a private detective who hired himself out his Martin's bodyguard. Bodyguard, huh? No doubt also in love with the young wife. Good, B. Who's your choice? Except for the fact that there are only two bullets, I think they all did it. The note through which Lieutenant Markwood talked was a long one. And in more ways than one, a horn of plenty. For out of it had poured enough motives and suspects to furnish her dozen murders. I started through this cast of characters and found that all of them had very little to say and didn't want to see it. The first I dug up was the bodyguard, my brother investigated Nick Boladi as he returned from a horseback ride. Glad to have you on the case, darling. The police have tied my hands. They told me to stay out of it, but to stick around. Have you gotten the ideas? Everybody seems to think it was an inside job that somebody in the household did it. That's a sure. The reason I was around was because old man Martin made too many dollars and too many enemies doing it. But that's only my opinion. Why don't you talk to the old boy's younger brother, Marty? I found Marty living the life of Riley. He was upstairs in his room, cuddled up to a 20-year-old bottle of brandy, which was still underage to be around the kind of book he was reading. I'll tell you something, darling. My brother and I never did get along. You'd find that out anyway. Why'd you come back here, Marty? Because loyal's little bride, Joanne, sent for me. She was afraid of him and she didn't know if he was on to her, was he? About that, you'll have to talk to Joanne. Joanne didn't get home until three o'clock in the afternoon. I caught up with her 20 minutes later as she came dripping out of the swimming pool. The suit she was wearing would have gotten her pinched on the really era. Oh, that was refreshing. Yeah, it certainly is. Oh, it tossed me that towel, will you? Yeah, surely. Here, Mrs. Martin. Joanne, I hate formality. Who are you? Well, I'm from the insurance company here to find out whether you killed your husband or not. Good for you, Mr. Daler. That's what I like. Men who get right down to the point. I was told you were here. Oh, nobody told me about you. Come on over and learn. I want to stretch out here in the sun. Here, you man the fly's water. Okay. Come on, sit down. Every time he gets too warm, flip off his shirt. Oh, thank you. Well, suppose we start talking business. Marty tells me you sent for him to come here because you were afraid of your husband. How come? Well, you, Marty, before I knew loyal. Matter of fact, he's the one who introduced me to. What do you call a dead husband? You call him unlucky, I guess. Anyway, for the purposes of this conversation, I'll know who you mean if you just say husband. But you didn't answer my question. I'm in, were you afraid of your spouse? And if so, why? Yes, I was afraid of him. Oh, I might as well tell him, Mr. Daler. I want to be frank with you. The only thing loyal didn't have to offer me with love. I seem to be a girl who needs just that, frankly. I tried to make up the deficit. This is Thompson, the housekeeper, saw to it that my husband found out about it. And then on it was like living with a mad man. So endeth my confession. So begineth, my suspicion. What about this housekeeper? Until I came along, she always thought that loyal would wind up marrying her. Don't get me wrong. I realize that I'm still the best jury bait around. If you kill them, you might make some headway with a self-defense plea. Thanks. I remember that. In the meantime, just in case this thing gets messy for me, and it shows signs, I'm going to spend what's left of my free time enjoying myself. Well, that won't sound good to a jury, but it sounds good to me. If I spend too much time around here, I might wind up having the plea self-defense myself. Oh? From me? No. From that bathing suit. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to keep two eyes on four people, reading from left to right. Brother Marty stayed in his room, finishing his book and his brandy. Nick Bellotti, the bodyguard with nobody to guard, got back in his horse and canted off into the sunset. The joyous widow, Joy Ann, locked herself in a room, and all I could get through the keyhole was the sound of a light and lovely snore. I couldn't tell whether it was the genuine article or not. Having no way of checking, I picked up the trail of Sarah Tompkins, the housekeeper. She, at least, was apparently up to no good. I found her in the library, doing just what Lieutenant Mark would have told her not to do, smearing the surfaces of Mr. Martin's desk with a dust drag, and as anybody knows, you can't fingerprint a dust drag. Hey, cut it out! How dare you? Mr. Martin's private study. Those are the police private fingerprints you're messing up. I was doing nothing of the sort of sucking his desk. I always do it at this time of day. Get out of here, you don't belong in here. Keep your wig on, Miss Tompkins. I'll not be told what to do by outsiders. Everything was all right until outsiders started coming in, so wasn't for outsiders loyal to be alive. First that girl, then his brother and that detective, now it's the police and you. Why didn't any of you have to come here? Why couldn't you leave us alone? I'll calm down, Mr. Tompkins. Try to calm down. And now what's going on in here? Oh, and what are you two love birds up to? It's all right, Lieutenant, I'll tell you about it later. All right, but get her out of here. I've got some looking to do privately. Take it down to a room and then come back. You mean you got something hot? It ain't cold. Okay, Mrs. Tompkins, come on. But I haven't dinged in there. Come on, you can get it later. It's just time for you to take a little rest before dinner. But I never rested time of day. He didn't like me too. Mrs. Tompkins, come on, tell me. Really? Why were you wiping off that desk? But this morning, scattered white powder all over his desk. He would have been furious with me. He hated any kind of... The shots had come from the library, and that's where I went, but not fast enough. By the time I got there, Lieutenant Markwood was dead. And whoever had done the shooting was gone, apparently, through an open window. Markwood still clutched a shotgun he'd grabbed out of the gun case, but hadn't had a chance to use. Two things had just died in that room. The lieutenant and the hot piece of evidence, he'd never had the chance to pass on to me. In just a moment, we return to the second act of Johnny Duller. But first, the cream of the wit and the best of the music, which Arthur Godfrey brings you in the daytime on CBS, can now be heard on Godfrey's Digest, a new Saturday evening show heard on most of these same CBS stations. Listen tomorrow night, and hear the week's fastest flashes of the Godfrey humor, the top song sung by Jeanette Davis and Bill Lawrence, the finest singing of the mariners. Arthur Godfrey's Digest and the Goldbergs are the latest edition to CBS's Great Saturday Nights. Now with our star Edmund O'Brien, we return to the second act of yours truly, Johnny Duller. Hey, what's up? Oh, Mark what? Yeah, he's dead. Well, what are you doing, sir? I'm looking for what there seems to be a shortage of around here, Bellotti clues. You don't mind where you look, do you? Rule number one, don't get caught frisking dead cops. Forget about it, Bellotti, will you? Maybe I can suffer from lapse of memory for you sometimes. That's a deal. Got any idea what you're looking for? No, but whatever it was, it was important enough to get him killed. I'd hope maybe there'd be something in his notebook, for instance. Many luck? Well, very little, it's a brand new book, only one notation in it. Here it is, check to toying diameter, recheck penetration. How do you make it out? It's too scientific for me, I'm a skip case and divorce type detective myself. All I know is you'd better put that book back in his pocket and leave it there. Yeah, I guess you're right. Nice timing, Bellotti, and remember, thanks for the loss of memory. Forget it, what happened, what's going on, dear? Lieutenant Mark Potts, who did it? Dealers choice. So far, the deal is the only one who knows. First my brother, not Lieutenant Markwood. There'll be real trouble about this. Johnny, shall I call the police? Drop the innocent access from all, call them. No, maybe I better do it, Marty. If everybody will stop pleading not guilty by wanting to call the police, I'd like to get a word in. The police have already been called. If you'll get out of here, I'd like to try earning my salary. [MUSIC] If I had had longer ears and more soulful eyes, I would have been all bloodhound, because I could sniff out the first of the trail. The smell of cord I told me that Lieutenant Markwood's killer had either been inside the room when he fired, or just outside with a weapon pointed through the still open window. [MUSIC] Outside, the grass formed a deep wet rug right up to the house and smothered any immediate hopes I'd had of finding footsteps. But 10 feet away, I had better luck. A ray of light from inside spotlighted something that looked like it might be a star witness. It was a 32 caliber revolver. I scooped it up with my handkerchief and went back through the open window to look it over. [MUSIC] Under the light, I checked six empty chambers and a crimson smear on the walnut grip. If somebody was feeding me a herring, it sure was red. But it wasn't blood. It was lipstick. [MUSIC] I'd like to introduce myself, Daller. I'm Sergeant Narn McDougall. How are you, Sergeant? Poor Markwood. Thank the Lord he didn't have any wife and kids. I'm glad to hear that cops usually do. It's one good thing about it. When the police officer goes, there's plenty of them that lives on the fight back. All the police in the world. You can throw in the private ones too, Sergeant. Thanks, Daller. Now maybe I better take your statement. Well, it won't take long. I heard the shots from the hallway and I came back. He was killed either from inside the room or just outside the window. I didn't get a look at the killer, but I found what might be the murder gun. Here it is. I've watched that handkerchief. 32 caliber. How does that match up with a gun that killed old man Martin, do you know? Same caliber. I wonder what he was doing with this shotgun. They ain't loaded and Markwood knew better than to wave an unloaded gun on the face of a full one. Did you get anything else out of ballistic, Sergeant? Uh, headache. Daller, what we got from ballistics don't add it but what we got from autopsy. Well, how's that? Those two slugs ended Martin's body, an inch and a half apart. But according to the shallow penetration, they were fired from a distance of 300 yards. Now do you know anybody who could do that kind of shooting with a 32? That's pretty fancy shooting. Could it have been done with the stationary now? Ah, not a chance. The body would have started falling after the first shot and you can't re-aima stationary mount that fast. Yeah. Ah, you're right. You know, I didn't have a chance to spend much time with Markwood before he got it, so I don't have much to work on. You got anything to spare? Just a lot of routine confusion so far. You know yourself, Daller. You take four witnesses, you're bound to get at least two different stories. Two of the people that heard the shooting when Martin got killed last night, so they heard two shots. And the other two witnesses, they heard one. The only thing the whole four agree on is that they didn't see anything. Well, that sounds familiar. Thanks, anyway, Sergeant. Sure, anytime. Hey, Sam. Daller, take this gun into town. Tell ballistics to run it through for fingerprints and check it against those slugs in the Martin case. I want to report right away. I hitched the ride with that gun into the ballistics department. While waiting for the test to be made, I asked some questions and I came up with a real brain buster. Despite the fact that the penetration report said that Martin had been shot from a distance of 300 yards, his skin and clothing had been tattooed with powder, indicating the shots had been fired at close range. The tree that little puzzler put me up would have made the giant redwood forest look like a hedge. Then they gave me the ballistic report. The lands and grooves scored into the slugs by the Revolver Barrow proved that both loyal Martin and Lieutenant Markwood had been killed by the 32-caliber gun I'd picked up in the yard. No prince on it, registered owner. The young lady who looked much better in a bathing suit than she'd ever look in the electric chair. The widow, Joy-Ann Martin. Yes? Who is it? The Hartford Horkshore dollar I want to talk to you. I'll be with you in a second. I'm just out of a shower. Okay. First she was in the pool, now it's the shower. She's also in plenty of hot water. I don't pay any attention to my hair. Don't worry, I won't. I'd vote you think it's a silly time of night for me to be taking a shower, but I thought it might help me to get to sleep. Well, I'm afraid I won't. Hi, Johnny. You were pretty careless with that gun, weren't you? What gun? Oh, that handy little 32-caliber gun with the handy little registration number engraved on it. That told the nasty old police that you bought it six weeks ago. Well, my gun's right here in the drawer. I bought it to protect myself and my husband. Johnny, it's gone. It's real gone. It's done gone and killed two men so far. And if you can't do some fast talking and some fast proving, it stands a good chance of shortening your pretty little life expectancy. Somebody must have stolen it. Oh, no. That's not even a down payment on a store. But, Johnny, there's a whole house full of people who could have done it. Not only that, they'd be glad to get me out of the way if they could. Why? Well, Mrs. Thompson, because she hates me. loyal's brother Marty because I stand to inherit everything. What about Nick Bellotti? Doesn't he have an axe to grind? I don't know what it could be. Okay, skip it. Tell me, you remember hearing two shots being fired around here anytime before your husband was killed, probably away from the house? Why do you ask that? Because I want to know, did you? You amazed me. Yes, I did hear two shots. The day before loyal was killed, I was horseback riding down by the walnut grove. I remember because my horse shied. Well, this is coming a bit too readily to be readily believed. But how big is that walnut grove? Not very big. Yeah, can you spot those shots a little closer? Well, they sounded as if they came from about the middle. I didn't stay to find out. I guess I frightened me easily. Yeah, yeah, you frightened me easily. Why, Johnny? Why? I'll tell you why. Because whether you shot anybody or not, you're murdered a baby. Oh, Johnny, I didn't kill him. Got to believe me, Johnny. I don't have to, but just for a minute, it will. What is there about police drivers? Even out in the country, they got a lay on those sirens. Johnny, please. Come on, you better get dressed, sweetheart. I told them I'd keep you occupied till they got here. Like you. The police took Joanne and her feelings off the pokey. I took myself and my hurt geek off to bed. The next thing I had to do had to be done by daylight. So I took over Joanne's painfully empty and prickly perfume sack. Set the alarm for dawn with snort of a storm. I never knew before how much went on in the country, so early in the morning. On the way to the walnut grove, the damp air washed the cobwebs out of my head. And I started thinking, "Now first, loyal Martin had been found dead with two bullet holes in them. Yet two of the witnesses, Joanne and the housekeeper, Mrs. Tompkins, had heard only one shot. Second, that powder burn tattooing on the body, denoting a close-range killing, was in violent argument with a bullet penetration report which screamed long-range killing. Those facts added to what was in Lieutenant Markwood's notebook. Plus, that shotgun clutched in his dead hand. Came close to telling up the total that it cost him his life. Inside the grove, I found four walnut trees with hollows in their trunks. The first one gave me a handful of nuts and the fancy sassing by an irate squirrel. The second one came up with a handful of spunk water on a wet cuff. And the third, I found what I was looking for. I found about two packs of clean cotton waste. That is clean, except for some powder burns. Everything was falling into place, including a blunt instrument, which hit me on the head from behind. But before I hit the ground, I saw a brother, Marty Martin, legging it back towards the house. I made it up the house, and up the hill and onto the trail. I was just starting up the stairs when I heard another out-of-season, fourth of July. Yeah. Yeah. So I say, "What's up, the fence? I had to do it." I hated to butt in on your case, but all of a sudden, everything stacked up, and I knew he was your man. When I threw it in his teeth, he made a try for his gun, so I dropped him. You sure did, Belary. Well, I know you a lot of thanks, but if you don't mind, I'll take over from here. Sure, help yourself. Good. And I think the first thing you'd better do is high-tail it into town, and get your story fired with the police. Yeah, I guess you're right. You're all straight now, so you can back me up. 100% neck all the way. Now get going. Come on. Okay, Donna, see you later. Sergeant Norrin McDougall. Yes, sir. Sergeant McDougall. Johnny Dollar, Sergeant. Oh, any dollar. What'd you know? Well, just another corpse. And in just about 15 minutes, the guy who made it one, and conspired on the other two killings, is going to walk right into your arms through the station house door. What? Who is it? Nick Belary, New York Private License. He just shot his partner in this thing, Marty Martin. We are crazy. What about this girl? It's her gun. That was their fondest hope, Sergeant, to pin it on her. They borrowed her gun, fired two slugs from it into some cotton waste, then took the slugs and sucked them in a shotgun shell. One shot, just like both ladies said they heard. The shotgun Lieutenant Markwood was looking at when he died, was really the Martin murder weapon. That takes care of the powder burns and the shallow penetration, yeah. Well, thanks a lot, dollar. I'll be waiting for him. Hey, wait a minute. What's he walking in here for under his own power? To tell you an early morning bedtime story, just before you go off duty, he'll give you a pitch about a self-defense killing. It's a lie. The victim wasn't carrying a gun. If he had been, he would have used on me, but he didn't. He used the sap, the sap. Expense account, items two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and nine. Six hundred and twenty-four dollars entertainment, appeasing a rich widow with a rich taste. Expense account, items one through thirteen inclusive. A hundred and sixty dollars entertainment of poor insurance investigators with extravagant taste. Expense account, item fourteen, seven dollars and eighty cents mileage New York to Hartford. You may disagree with that item, claiming that I finished the case in Fairfield County, but I didn't finish the case until I left and New York City is where I left. Expense account total, eight hundred and twenty-three dollars. Signed yours truly Johnny Dollar. Yours truly Johnny Dollar stars Edmund O'Brien in the title role, and is written by Paul Dudley and Gil Dowd, with music composed and conducted by Leith Stephen. Edmund O'Brien can currently be seen starring the Harry M. Popkin United Artist production D.O.A. featured in our cast were Irene Tedrow, Walter Burke, Ted de Corsia, John Boehner, Gene Bates and Ed Beggley. Yours truly Johnny Dollar is produced and directed by Jaime Del Baez. Join us again next week when Edmund O'Brien returns in another adventure of yours truly Johnny Dollar. Ladies and gentlemen C.B.S. invites you to hear Senator Brian McMayan on the capital cloak room over most of these same Columbia stations tomorrow night. Senator McMayan is chairman of the Joint Congressional Committee on Atomic Energy, and when he's interviewed by C.B.S. Newsman Eric Severide, Bill Chidell and Giffing Bancroft, this will be the first detailed discussion of the hydrogen bomb and its implications. Remember the first discussion by a high government official since President Truman's historic announcement earlier this week. Remember that C.B.S. is capital cloak room tomorrow night at 10.30 p.m. over most of the same C.B.S. station. Be sure and be listening. This is C.B.S. where incidentally Arthur Godfrey's digestive with Numer is also heard every Saturday night. The Columbia Broadcasting System. It is Ryan Seacrest here. Everybody needs some variety in life. That's what I love about Chumba Casino. They know how to keep things fresh and exciting. All their games are free to play. Like spin slots, bingo and solitaire, you can claim free daily login bonuses too, and they release new games every week. So spice things up with Chumba Casino.com now for your chance to redeem some serious prizes. Sponsored by Chumba Casino. No purchase necessary. 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