Yours Truly Johnny Dollar Radio
Johnny Dollar - The Perikoff Policy Reh
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:
- 29m
- Broadcast on:
- 25 Jun 2024
- Audio Format:
- mp3
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Expense account submitted by investigator Johnny Dollar to Home Office, East Coast Underwriters, Terminal Building, Hartford, Connecticut. The following is an accounting of my expenditures in the investigation of the Paracroft policy for your company. Expense account, item 1, Plain Fair, 2 Benton, Ohio, $40.04. Expense account, item 2, Plain Fair, Benton, back to Hartford, $40.04. Explanation purchased two runway tickets instead of saving money by purchasing one round trip. Because of a type of case, I'm usually assigned. I never pressed my luck by buying round trips. This time, I was almost right. Expense account, item 3, Camp Fair Airport to Valley Hotel, $2.20. Tip the driver. Gee, a dollar! Surely. There'll be stake on the table tonight. Welcome to our fair city. Hey, Darwin. Hey, yes, sir. What can I do for you, sir? Bring my bag inside with him. Oh, here. Donna, always. Good evening, sir. Hello. Do you have a reservation for Johnny Dollar? Uh, oh, yes. Mr. Dollar's in his room. He checked in about eight o'clock. Why? I guess I ain't the man I used to be. What room is he in? Oh, sorry, sir. I'm not permitted to tell you that. I can call. Oh, no, never mind. Oh, you have an envelope, will you? I'd like to leave my card for this, Mr. Dollar. Hey, yes. Here you are. Thanks. Here, just pop this in his box. The clerk popped the envelope. The box number 207, so I popped myself into an elevator going up to room 207. I'd come to Benton to investigate a murder, and in just a matter of minutes, I found myself ready to commit one. Hey, yes? Who is it? A bellboy, sir. A package from Hartford. Hey, just a minute. What kind of a special delivery? Come on, get up on your feet. Oh, it's safer down here. Take it easy. You must be Johnny Dollar. Sometimes strangers in a hotel room can be a lot of fun, but not when they're men and not when they're using my name. What's your angle? Now, listen, Dollar, I can explain everything. I'd better be good or better be fast. I didn't want to be seen waiting for you in the lobby, and it's important that I talk with you before anybody else does. That's why I'm here. I'm Eric Barker. Oh, the defense attorney in this caracol thing, huh? Well, I hope you're better at defending your client, and you are defending yourself. Whether my client goes to the chair or not, unfortunately, has nothing to do with my being of course. That's why I wanted to talk to you. Oh, I suppose this is one time when the attorney won't mind relinquishing the floor. Why don't you get up on your feet? Oh, thanks. Thanks, I will. I have no coward, Dollar, but if either one of us is going to get any place in this case, we'll have to work together. I need your help, and I need it badly. Sorry, I do a single act. Oh, no. Don't be hasty. I can help you, too. Just how much do you know about the Paracoff murder? Well, I know it's one of the scruiest cases I've ever run into. Beneficiaries are knocking off insured people all over the country, but not here in Benton. Oh, no. Here they tell me the insured man knocked off the beneficiary, and now I've got the jolly assignment of trying to keep the state from executing the insured them. My employer, East Coast Underwriters, isn't anxious to see $100,000 of their money burn up in the electric chair. Well, at least we're both stuck with the same tough job. Look, I'll tell you the few things that I already know, and you fill it in from there, all right? All I want to know is that Paracoff was shot to death, and that his business partner, your client, Harlan Wolf, was picked up making a quick trip out of town as being held for the murder. What have they got on them? Only what they found on them, and it's enough. The murder weapon. Any witnesses? One, Paracoff's widow, Masha, an eye witness. Murder weapon and an eye witness. It seems, at least at first glance, anyway, that the state of Ohio will be receiving a large electric bill one day soon. Any chance of my seeing Wolf? No, not before he's indented. Oh, great. Darlan, Harlan Wolf shot Paracoff in self-defense. There was no premeditation. I'm convinced that I could get him off with a second-degree manslaughter verdict. That is, I could, if it weren't for the tactics of the prosecution. Oh, what's that? They not only have intimidated my character witnesses, but they also have suborned their own to perjury. Sort of thing I am up against. Well, as the insurance companies keep saying, never say die. Where can I find the widow, Paracoff? They aren't holding her in protective custody, so nobody can question her. She may be at home. That's 137596 Street. That's a lot of failures. By the way, how's hers? [Music] Expense account, item four. Cab fare, the home of murdered man, and the girl he left behind him. Two dollars and forty cents. I shivered all the way out to the suburbs, but not from fear or anticipation. Just a simple case of summer shorts in red flannel weather. The Paracoff place was obviously the product of a good income and a bad architect. It looked like a great big wedding cake and mother nature had mercifully iced the confection. The front walk was white and untrammeled as the driven snow. As a matter of fact, that's what it was. Three inches of it, which meant that Marsha hadn't had a visitor in the past couple of hours. I was playing detective and somebody inside was playing the radio. So I played peeping Tom and loathed every second of it. I couldn't see her face, but she had a lovely profile. I hastened to the door. Ouch! Her hair was red and her eyes were green. Her hair stopped your cold and then her eyes gave you the go signal. Yes? Would you mind saving that yes for later? I beg your pardon? I've come to ask your help and I hope you'll say yes. You see, my name is Johnny Dollar and I've been sent to Benton to investigate the death of your husband. Say, what is this? Has it turned into a federal case? Oh, I'm from the insurance company. Oh, come in. All right. Where can I put my coat? This snow is melting all over your carpet. Let it melt. Just throw your coat anyplace. Okay. Good shot. Come on in by the fire. Nice and warm. I should have brought some chestnuts. I could have followed her with my eyes closed. She headed for the living room leaving a pathway of perfume there behind her and I didn't waste a breath of it. That's a nice perfume. Sit down. Nice. If you can stand a compliment before we get down a business, you certainly do furnish a room. Oh, you like it? Most of the things are reproductions. Not the things I'm talking about. Oh, you mean me. Happy surprise. I expected to find someone fatter in 40 years. My husband was. Now, what about his insurance? Oh, you've got me wrong. I'm working for the company that ensured the man being held for the murder of your husband, Harlan Wolf. What do you want from me? Just the story of what happened. Oh, well, that I can't do. The district attorney had a long talk with me about it. I'm not supposed to say anything to anybody about it until the trial. Oh, I'm not asking for any state secret. I just want you to save me a trip out of the morgue. Oh, don't be so brutal. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were still in mourning. That niggly shake infused me. Anyway, I'm at the newspaper morgue. That's what they call their files. You gave them a story. Why won't you give it to me? I told you. I can't. Okay. So I wasted your time. Oh, wait a minute. You aren't leaving. What do you want to operate? Oh, sit down. I'm going crazy in this house alone all the time. Can't we find something else to talk about? Sure. Later. But first things first. Well, all right. Well, I don't see how it could be wrong to tell you what's already been in the newspapers. Oh, go on. Well, all right. Harlan Wolf and I were here in the room alone. We were discussing business business. The Highland Cole Corporation. My husband was its president. Harlan is a secretary treasurer and I'm the vice president. I can't resist this, but you know, your kind of businesswoman makes this anthracite heart of mine feel very bituminous. What? Well, I don't get it. Let it go. So you and Wolf were sitting here talking about your Cole business. Yes. And then my husband came home. And no doubt accused you and the secretary treasurer of putting in too much overtime, is that it? Oh, yes. Oh, it was terrible. They fought and finally Harlan ran over to the couch over there and pulled his gun out of his overcoat pocket and started pulling a trigger. Who called the police, the neighbors? No, I did. Well, that's all there is to it. Well, that's all I wanted to know. It didn't hurt for them? No. Now, how about using those big shoulders of yours to throw a log on the fire? Well, sure. I'll go outside and get one. Oh, there are logs in here. Uh-uh. I'd rather have one that's a little damn. They burn slower. Oh, well, and one you're at it. Get a big one. I left Marsha gazing into the fire, called a cab, and stepped out into the cold night air to wait for it. I went down the front walk with my mind on what lay behind me instead of what was ahead. Hey, Donna. Out of the white snow, loom, two very large blue police uniforms, completely filled. Get out of this paracoth mess, Donna. Matter of fact, get out of this town. Why, officer? I'm just beginning to like it here. This is from the top that makes it efficient. We got the guilty man. We don't want any trouble. You go back to the top and tell them that this is one sure way of getting trouble. They told us how to answer that one too. I do my best. I best to break every one of the markers of Queensborough rules. I knew I was fighting a losing fight, but I was funny for a little time, and that's all I got. If this never stopped, my head began to feel like a ping-pong ball and a forehead again. Suddenly, things looked up. Me, flat on my back in the snow, seeing stars, and then a boot came flying toward my head and switched off all a little pretty light. [Music] All Americas taken to Sing It Again. CBS Saturday night show of fun, frolic, and the fabulous Phantom Fortune. By telephone, listeners all over the nation are asked for their answers to the rhythmic riddle song. Popular songs with new lyrics hiding the name of a movie star, radio star, or man about town. A right answer to a riddle, and a listener gets a crack at Sing It Again's Phantom Voice Fortune of $24,500 in prizes. It's a sensational session of music, suspense, and prizes. Don't miss Sing It Again tonight over most of the same CBS network station. Maybe you'll sing to the tune of 24/5. And now back to yours truly, Johnny Dollar. [Music] Expense account, item five, nickel, supplies, bonded, $7, and here's something I'll give you for free. I highly help for your regularly employed insurance investigators. When I find myself overwhelmed in a brawl with unknown assailants, I've included, I do my best to take away more than just bruises and contusions. During my career, I've picked more pockets than a rack boy in a pool room, and I added one more to the score during the brawl in front of the pack-off house, just before I went bye-bye in the snow. Hey. Hey, Mr. Wake Up. Come on, Wake Up. You'll catch your desert cold. You call it calm? Yeah, I think so. Holy smokes, your face. Was your run? That's a matter, isn't it, there? Huh? Oh, here, come on. I'll give you a hand. Thanks. Holy smokes, when I first seen you laying there, I thought you was a snowman tipped over. How do you feel cold? Forever, or I shall look kindly upon the headache in the deep freeze, huh? Hey, hey, what are you looking for? I'm looking for a wallet. You lose it? First, I found it and then I lost it. Oh, here it is. Come on, let's get out of here. Well, too, Mr. Police headquarters. Oh, no. Over my dead body. Expense account item six, breakfast and bed, $2.40. Expense account item seven, photographic work, $6 for taking pictures of contents of wallet. I lifted from the police uniform the night before. Which I sent to you, deary, host underwriters, for safekeeping. Expense account item eight, $0.70 CAD fair to office of Edson Byron, district attorney. Item nine, tipped the driver, $1. All right, you've got me waiting, dollar. Good to heaven, man. What happened to your face? Well, Mr. Salt? Yeah, but I got a flash for you. Not by person or person's unknown. Splendid. You wish to prefer charges? Half right again, but not for felonious assault, and not against the guys who gave me going over last night. And what are you talking about? You know what I'm talking about. There were two of your harness bulls, but I don't want to waste time listening to you deny it, so forget it. I don't have the slightest idea what this is all about, dollar. I said forget it. I want to talk about something more important. You're holding Harlem for the Paracoth murder. Now, what I want to know is, what are you going to hand down your indictment and what it's going to be? First thing in the morning, first degree murder. Anything else that you want to know before I have you thrown out of here? Yeah. How do I get mixed up on these rhubarb? Express account, item 10, five. Phone call to my partner in despair, attorney for the defense, Eric Barker, who agreed to lend me a set of police photographs of the scene of the crime. They arrived in my hotel room just as I was leaving it to eat. And when I looked at them, I'd lost my appetite. According to the exes marking the various spots, Paracoth and Wolf had been standing face to face in the middle of the room, when Wolf decided to punch Paracoth's ticket with a few 38-caliber perforation. According to the photographs of the Corpus de Lick guy, all of the steel jacket had forget-me-nots had gone banging straight into the right side of Paracoth's body. I set up an appointment to meet Barker at three that afternoon and decided to make the most of the time in between by seeing what kind of a trade I could make on that wallow I picked up during the winter sports of the night before. The name in it was Ben Arnold and the address was disreputable. I don't want any brushes. What a coincidence. I'm not selling it. What do you want? I'm looking for Ben Arnold. Who isn't? He promised me he'd be home by now. By this time, I should know better. Well, I'll wait. Outside. Inside. Wait a minute. Ben won't like this. Well, that makes it even. I don't like Ben. Look, I don't want any trouble. Okay, don't make any trouble. What do you want here anyway? Well, it's just that I dropped in front unfriendly visits. If Ben finds it here, it'll get real unfriendly. Ain't that face of you as marked up enough? Well, that mouse hanging under your eye isn't exactly a beauty mark. Ben really spends his blessings with me. Ben had really spread one blessing right there close in front of me. It was a small room, about the size of a large closet, with a closed sprawled high and low, making the whole place look like a collapsed clothesline. And there, hanging on the back of the door was Ben Arnold's police uniform. My eyes popped out, pushed one of its shiny brass buttons, and rang the bell. There, like little love letters on the brass, for the initial CPD. And CPD were never the initials of the Benson Police Department. Thanks for seeing me so quickly, Barnard. Oh, darling, you're up. Good lord. What happened to your face? A couple of police uniforms with overstuffed shoulders did this to me last night. There you are. I warned you that we're up against a bunch of ruthless people. Something should be done about it. Using the police force to beat up anybody who stands in their way. No, Barker. They're wearing uniforms, but they weren't police. I'm afraid I don't follow you, Barker. Can you give me one good reason for a Benton cop to be wearing an out-of-town uniform? And don't tell me they got mixed up at the cleaners out of town uniform? Yes, and here's another one. If the law enforcement set up here is so rotten, why would they go to all the trouble of dressing up an outsider to do their muscle work? I'd know. What I mean is, did they? Why? Who else would do it? It certainly couldn't have been Marsha. Why not? She isn't exactly hard up for a motive. If Wolf goes to the chair, she collects his insurance money. Not only is she the widow of the original beneficiary, she's also vice president of the coal company. Anywhere you look at it, she's a secondary beneficiary. But why should Wolf admit to the shooting? He has nothing to gain and his life to lose. Look, Marsha told me that the night of the murder, she's Wolf for a loan in the house talking about the coal business. Then she didn't know what I meant when I used the words Batuminous and anthracite. Whatever they had on the fire that night, it wasn't coal. You're right about that. Marsha and Wolf were having, well, some kind of a romance. Yeah, okay. So let's say Marsha shot her husband. Let's say Wolf is madly in love with her. Let's say she promises Wolf that she will testify. He shot her husband in self-defense. Marsha gets away with murder. Wolf gets away with a light sentence and none at all. And then Wolf gets away with a girl. Now, that does make sense. What makes you think this is even possible? Parker, somebody had me beat up last night. I say the prosecution wouldn't have bothered sending fake cops. That's one thing I got to check and check fast. What's that? Those police photos you gave me show that Parachoff was shot by a left-handed shoot. Well, that's one of the prosecution's strongest points. Wolf is left-handed. That doesn't prove that Marsha isn't. Parker, I'm going to go out and see Mrs. Parachoff. And there's also really one thing I hold her. That she's left-handed? Uh-uh. And she's wearing that same necklace shade that she had on last night. Hello, Marsha. Can I come in? Oh, I just. Johnny, what happened to your face? I didn't get down with the beauty parlor today. You look like you've been fighting. Mm-hmm. Not too well, but wisely. Well, come on in the other room. And how about throwing another law down the fire? You're a real little firebug, aren't you? You should have lived back in old Nero's time. Who was time? Uh, never. Well, I'll tell you what, I'll build the fire if you'll light it. All right, last two. Oh, you're getting a dry one from inside. Last night, you went all the way outside to get one that would burn for a long time. Hey, you got some paper? Here's some. There we are. Okay, hot point. Here's my lighter. Touch it off. Okay. Here, that'll do it. Come on, sit down. There's one more thing I'd like you to do for me. What is it? Very simple. Take up your phone and call the district attorney. Tell him you want to change your story on the murder of your husband. What are you talking about? If you don't, I will. Oh, what have I done? Okay, if you want to play games, I'll read you the rules. You know, there's a big advantage to being on my side of investigation. See, fellows in my racket have the benefit of a lot of experience, but murderers, but almost everyone is inexperienced at that business. One moment they aren't murderers. The next moment they are. Oh, Johnny, please. Well, now let's take a look at what's on my side. For instance, for one thing, from the empty shell thrown off by an automatic pistol, the experts can get a better picture of a murder scene than they can from the witnesses. Your husband was killed by a gun that was held approximately 18 inches away and directly in front of him, and the bullets entered the right half of his body. That means he was killed by a left-handed shooter. Harlan Wolf has left handed. You can ask him. He'll tell you. I know that. And I'm right-handed. I just found it out too. And what more do you mean? Not much. Now, Marcia, let's see what you've got going for you. You've got a face and a body and not too much of a brain. But baby, that's not enough. It's not enough to offset the things that I know. You don't know anything. Oh, okay, so let's make this a guessing game. Let's guess after your husband was shot. You called Wolf. When he got here, you told him you'd given your husband a 38-caliber divorce, right? Then you charged him into taking the rap for you, right? No. And then you told him you'd testify he shot your husband in self-defense, right? Then once you got him in jail, you told the district attorney that Wolf had committed pre-meditated murder. Then he'd been after you to leave your husband and had threatened to shoot him if you didn't, right? Stop it! That's a good idea, Stella. Stop it! Eric, he knows. What are we going to do? Keep quiet. We'll have to get rid of him, Eric. Just as soon as we get rid of something else. All right, darling. I want Ben Arnold's wallet, and I want it right now. You're welcome to it, Barker. What it might interest you to know that I had its picture taken this morning. You have phony policemen's wallet and everything in it, and copies of the photos are in the mail right now. The insurance company won't have any trouble connecting you with a comedy cops who beat me up last night. Yeah, you're bluffing. But that's not all I've been on you, Barker. This morning, when I was lying in bed, reading the bumps on my head, it suddenly dawned on me that you were the only one that knew where I was going last night. So you must have been the one who had me roughed up. It also does my hard good to see you standing there holding that gun, and your left hand. You shot Park off, and then got out of here while Marsha called Wolf, told him she'd done it and talked him into taking a rap. Shoot him, shoot him, Eric. For a lawyer, Barker, how do you like my case? Good, isn't it? What are you waiting for? Shoot him! Kill him, I can't-- Shoot up, Marsha! All right, Stella. Stay it still. If you want, I will. Give me that gun. Marsha, make a rudge. Grab the gun from Barker. She got between me and the gun, and I dove in behind her. Arms straight out, picked her up, and sheesh. Barker went smashing into Barker, and I went on a frantic treasure hunt through that flailing mass of snorting angry bodies to find the hand that held the gun. Believe me, it was no place for a lady, but Marsha was no lady. I grabbed deep in between them and gank Barker's gun hand up out of the go-round, and just to make sure the rest was strictly a fistfight, jam my trigger finger in over it. The way the plaster was flowing, it was like another fight in the snow. At this time, Johnny Della came up heads instead of tails. Come on, Barker. Come on, I got-- Down you go! All right, Marsha. That'll be a nice little girl. Pick up the nice little telephone and call the nice little district attorney and invite him up to your nice little house. Expense account, item 11, $12.40. That was lunch for district attorney, during which we agreed that it was the case we'd ever worked on, where the defense was working harder for a conviction, the prosecution. Also, that it was the first case where everybody turned out to be guilty. Defense attorney Eric Barker of murder, his girlfriend Martha Caracoff of being in accessory before and after the fact, and Harlanwolf of conspiracy to defraud. Oh, no, one of the nation's jails are getting overcrowded. Expense account, item 12, hotel bill, $28. Expense account, item 13, flowers for the cell of unlucky, Marsha, Caracoff, $5. Expense account, item 14, $700, side trip to Miami, Florida, purpose to recover from catching 40 winch and miserable cold in Benton, Ohio, snowbank. Expense account, total $1230.20. Sign yours, truly, Johnny Dollar. Listen in again next week when CBS brings you yours truly Johnny Dollar with Charles Russell as Johnny. Yours truly Johnny Dollar is written by Paul Dudley and Gill Dowd and is produced and directed by Richard Sandville. Live life with Luigi and you live a wonderful life of seeing yourself as others see you. 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