The Adventures of Frank Race, starring Tom Collins. The war changed many things, the face of the earth and the people on it. Before the war, Frank Race worked as an attorney, but he traded his law books for the cloak and dagger of the OSS. And when it was over, his former life was over too. Adventure had become his business. The Adventures of Frank Race. And now we join Frank Race for the adventure of the Talking Bullet. Jones Beach in a portable radio. That's the only logical escape from a sultry summer night in the breathless heat of a Manhattan apartment. Lying there in the sand with Mark Donovan, I took my comfort and solace from the radio via one of the classic-minded stations, which featured a fine pianist addicted to Beethoven. Look, I know it's hot enough for everybody to be dead, but we also gotta listen to this funeral music. Mark, there are times when I think you have no soul. And there are times when I think you got no ears. This long-haired stuff won't ever amount to anything. All you gotta do is turn that little dial and get some real music. You cap Calloway. You just touch that dial and I'll break your arm. Okay, okay, okay. If you don't want people to think you're a square, you better get away. We interrupt this program for a special newsflash. Quiet, Mark. State prison officials who had been keeping the story under wraps have just admitted that Blackie Martin, convicted murderer, made his escape from state prison early this evening, just a few hours before his scheduled execution. Holy cow, Rachel. Prison officials finally released the story when local police disclosed that Judge Robin Dexter, who presided at Martin's trial and who sentenced the bank holdup killer to the electric chair, was found dead in his chambers at the courthouse just a few moments ago. At the time of his sentence, Martin swore in the courtroom that he would escape and kill the judge and jurymen and the witnesses who appeared against him. Stay tuned to this station for further developments. All right, Mark, turn it on. Brother, that Blackie Martin is sure not to pay off. He ain't wasting no time. No, he isn't. It means a lot of people wouldn't be sleeping tonight even if it was cool. Now, what'd that guy have to do? He said he'd get his wife to turn it against him and Graham the columnist and... Holy cow, Rachel. You, you. He said he was gonna kill you too for bringing him in. Yes, Mark. I'm sure I'm right up near the top of Blackie Martin's list. You'd better drive me home. A man already convicted of murder doesn't have much to lose. I kept thinking of that as Mark drove me back to town. Martin had strangled a bank night watchman and another life or two either way wasn't gonna make much difference to him. But by the time I got home, most of my thoughts concerned the pleasure of sleep. Welcome home, Grace. My uninvited guest. Welcome home, Grace. My uninvited guest was seated comfortably in an armchair near an open window. He appeared to be completely relaxed except for his right hand. Just clasping the 45 very tightly and I could see the blue veins pulsing in his clenched fist. Surprise, Grace? Well, not exactly, Blackie. The radio has been giving your exploits complete coverage. I didn't like it up the river. You shouldn't have been so impatient. You were going out tonight anyhow. I'm the lazy type. I'd want to walk that last mile. It's too warm to be electrocuted. You may find it even warmer here. There's a dragnet out for you all over town. I'm not in it yet. And stop bedding near that desk if you want to sit down. Sit over there or I can watch you. Thanks for the hospitality, even if it is my own home. I want some information, race. Where's my wife Lola? I don't know. I haven't seen her since you tried. She isn't singing at any of the clubs around town, not any of the ones she used to play. I'll be checking them on the phone while I'm waiting for you. I've got something to settle with that dame. I understand she plans to get married again, Blackie, after you're eliminated. Married to someone else? What are you giving me? She's been seen around with Walker Graham, the columnist who covered your trial. Oh, sir. That's it? That's why she spilled the story of that bank job to the Yellow Paper Works for... Don't get jumpy with that gun. It's only the phone. Well, I...the use of the sound. There's no phone service at that hotel up the river. All right. All right. That's right. Be careful. Hello. Hi, race. You hear the latest news report? I know, Mark. What is it? I just want to let you know so you can sleep good, see? You don't have to worry about Blackie Martin. That's very interesting, Mark. The cops have got the courthouse district bottled up tight, see? And they're sure he's still in there someplace, aren't you? Worry pal. You'll see. Yeah, thanks. I was feeling a bit faint until you reassured me. Tell me, Mark, did you ever finish that mail-order course you were taking on hypnotism? Well, yeah, yeah, sure. Why? I was just wondering if you could give me some instructions on how to hypnotize a man with a.45 automatic in his hand. Oh, well, you're looking right... I warned you, race. Hello? Hello, race? Hello? Race! Come on, come on, come on, race. Come on, snap on it. You all right? Yeah, it feels like I have two heads. Now that I'm alive. What happened? What happened? Blackie Martin. He was here when I got home. Tried to tip you on the phone and he's sandbagging me. Oh, brother, it's the one that didn't try to polish you off. That would have made his score three for the night. Three? You mean there's been a second murder? Yeah, that's right. Just found a step. Heard it on the air driving over here. What did he get? Nobody on the list. It's an old lady. Mrs. Jekowsky or something like that. Scrub woman on the fourth floor of the courthouse. Found her in a broom closet, shot. Just like Judge Dexter was. Hmm. Well, she must have heard the shot in the judge's chambers and went in to investigate. Or she saw the killer in a hall and he knocked her off or she could raise a howl. Mark, call one of the news commentators and find out where Mrs. Jekowsky lived and if she had any family. Then you can drive me out there. But, Ray, she wasn't connected with the trial. She was just an innocent bystander who got it in the neck. I know, Mark. That's why I'm curious. Very curious. There are some people who die without reason. Mrs. Jekowsky, the old scrub woman, had been one of them. Talking to her daughter wasn't easy. But why? Why would anybody want to hurt my mother? I never hurt nobody. She was a good woman. I'm sorry, Mr. Jekowsky, but other people are in danger too. I need your help to protect them. What can I tell you? What do you want to know? All about your mother. Who she knew, any friends, enemies, anything. How could she have enemies? She works all night scrubbing in the courthouse ever since she came to this country. And in the daytime she would sleep or stay around the house always. Well, she had no friends at work? I don't know. Nobody who ever came here. I don't think so. Why not? Well, she couldn't speak no English. You see, we always talk Polish at home. Oh, but you speak English well enough. My father brought me here when I was twelve years old. A month. She only came from their old country four months ago. Only four months ago, huh? Yes. When my father died, I sent her his insurance money to come here. And she went to work in the courthouse. It's hilarious. That's all I know. Naturally, your mother couldn't read or write? No. Not even in Polish. She had no education at all. Why? Why did they let that man escape to kill her mother? That's one of the answers I'm looking for, Mr. Koski. Because I don't think Blackie Martin killed your mother. I don't think he's killed anybody. Yet. Music Now, look, Grace, it's all right for us to have a hunch, see. But when you tell me that you don't think Blackie Martin has anything to do with the murders at the courthouse, well, it don't make sense. There are a lot of things about this case that don't make sense, Martin. But, Grace, you always told me a murder's got to have a motive. Now, you tell me, tell me, who else had a motive for knocking off the judge? Answer that. I can't answer that at the moment. Right now, I want to make sure that all the possible victims are alerted. Oh, I made up a list of their names and addresses while you was in there. I'll take you to the places one by one, see. And this house up the block should be our first stop. Who lives here? Let me see. Timothy Allowicious O'Brien. He was the foreman of the jury. Come on in with me. The house is dark, Grace. It's midnight, you know. Just the same, O'Brien should go to the police and ask to be taken into protective custody until this is over. You know, ring the bell. Yeah, all right. Hmm, no sign of life. Maybe he already went to the cops. Well, let's make sure. All right. Hey, hey, hey, that did it. Look. Huh. Light went on it back in the hall, look. O'Brien sleeps the deep sleep of the pure of heart, considering his place on a list of people who might never wake up again. Here he comes now. Oh, what do you want? My name is Rayce. Blackie Martin's escaped from prison and you may be in danger. I want you to go to the police station and stay there until he's caught. Can you walk me up from that? Huh. Look at the place you want to protect me. Let him send a man over and he can sleep on the doorstep. All right, O'Brien. I can't force you into it, but don't open the door so easily if anybody else should come call. Anybody else should come calling tonight. I'll be so sound asleep I won't even hear him. And good night. Good night. Good night. He's Irish. You better drive me to the precinct station, Housemarge. I'll ask them to send a man over right away. I wish I knew where to find Blackie's wife, Lola, though. I'm sure she's number one in his hit parade. Well, maybe she's singing one of the smaller joins, huh? Hop in. We can make the rounds of a few spots later on in. Hey, what was that? Shots from inside the house. Come on. Knocking won't help this time. Smash it in. Better must be back here where the life went on before. This must be it. Yeah. Light a match, will you, Mark? Yeah. Was it bear race? Right through the chest, Mark. He's dead. Hey, I heard something move. Does the match. Keep your eye on that drape at the window while I... Look out, Mark! We'll return to the adventures of Frank Race in just about one minute. And now back to the adventures of Frank Race. One of the bullets had hit Mark, and he fell in front of me, blocking my dive for the bulge behind the drapes. By the time I recovered, the person responsible for the murder of O'Brien was gone. I picked Mark up, piled him into his cab. My speed picked up a cruising motorcycle cop, and in a matter of seconds he was transformed into a flying escort for City Emergency Hospital. I'm sorry you stopped that bullet, Mark. It was meant for me. It's all right. Better my shoulder than your head, Frank. Did you look at Blackie when he fired? No, he got clean away. At least it should wash up your idea that somebody else might be doing a killing. Judge Dexton and O'Brien, that ties up with only one guy. That guy's Blackie Martin. It does narrow the field down, but isn't Blackie it's somebody else connected with the case. There's one big question that still needs an answer. What's that? Blackie had me cold turkey at the apartment, and I'm on his list. Why didn't he pay me off? Well, maybe he'd pass you up once, but he'd just try to make up for it. And you better make sure he doesn't kill you while you're trying to prove he didn't kill the others. Here's the hospital. Registry room. That's us. With the aid of the motorcycle cop and a young doctor, I got Mark into the operating room. I showed the cop my credentials and explained the setup. He left to make a report while the doctor went to work on Mark. Hey, lay off the eat if you can't, Doc, will you? Makes me sick. All right, we'll try local. That ought to help, son. You have to cut your clothes away. Mark, try to think. In driving around town, haven't you seen some sign of Lola Martin singing someplace? Oh, no, I haven't. Maybe she changed her name, huh? Lola Martin? I guess, Doc. Did you ever hear of her? No. There is a girl named Lola singing at the Tiger Room, a hangout that the interns frequent over on 10th Avenue. Your redhead on the, um, curvaceous side? On the curvaceous side, all right. But a blonde. That could be peroxide, though. Ready for the needle? Yeah, I'm ready if you are. It'll take hold in a second. We can probe for that slug. Oh, brother. That's Lola at the Tiger Room, right? She better get going. You still got some time. No, I'll wait until the doctor finishes with you. How's the shoulder feeling now? Numb. Good. It's going to hurt you some, anyhow. Yeah, go ahead. I almost got it. Hold tight. Mark. Mark boy. He's passed out from that, that's all. Here's the slug. 38 caliber. Well, so it is. My hunch is paying off. What's that? The last I saw of Blackie Martin, he was carrying a.45. Tell my friend that when he comes to. Some of the patrons of the Tiger Room look like interns, but the rest look like they might be in the business of turning distant citizens into ambulance cases. The singer on the floor was Lola Martin, all right. She was just finishing a song, so I took a seat at a corner table. Hello, race. Well, Walker Graham, the Manhattan Tatler. What brings an ace columnist to this den of an eagerness? I'm worried about Lola with Blackie on the loose. You ought to do some personal worrying. Tip you printed was one of the things that helped send Blackie on that one way trip. At least it was supposed to be one way. I know, but what about you? You brought him in. Yes, but I didn't start wooing his wife as soon as they threw him in the cooler. I can't leave Lola without protection. I'll see that she gets home safely. Would you, race? Sure. I hope you don't think it's yellow of me to take a part of. What I think of you isn't important. She'll be back here in a moment. Tell her I got an important call, will you? Sure. I'll tell her you went to play ping pong with Blackie. Yeah, yeah. Thanks, race. Don't mention it. Wow. Mr. Race, how nice. Where was Walker heading in such a hurry? I think he heard the Grim Reaper swishing his sickle. Want to sit down? Thanks. Order me a pink lady, will you? Waiter. Pink lady for the lady. And now, a cigarette? Here you are. Light. Would you like my wristwatch? Walker Graham usually takes care of these little things. Not that you aren't a pleasant substitute. You flatter me. Walker became quite attentive after Blackie's trial. But you're the one I was hoping I'd see again. If you want to see anybody again, you'd better take yourself out of circulation until Blackie's taken back into custody. I can't. Want me to tell you why? All right, race. Why? Because the money that Blackie stole was never recovered. You and Walker Graham have it stashed away someplace. And you've got to be out moving around to make sure that neither Blackie nor the police get to the money. You're a smart race. But this town is too hot for Blackie to be on the loose much longer. There are a lot of people he wants to get to. I'll take a chance that he doesn't get to me before he's caught. I've got news for you, Loan. You're Blackie's number one target. He isn't going to bother with anybody else until it gets to you. That isn't what the news reports tell me. He's kill crazy. If you mean Judge Dexter and O'Brien count Blackie out, he didn't kill him. Who told you that? A murdered scrub woman. Because if Blackie had killed the judge, Mrs. Joukowsky would still be alive. Why? Suppose she caught him there. She could be a witness against him. A man already convicted of a murder wouldn't be afraid of a witness to a second murder. Mrs. Joukowsky wasn't even in this country when Blackie was convicted. What are you trying to prove? That she wouldn't have been able to even recognize him. She couldn't read. She couldn't have read about him. So? So whoever she saw leaving the judge's chambers was somebody she'd seen before him. Somebody she knew. Like me, for instance. You saw Judge Dexter after the trial. You'd visited him a couple of times, had dinner with him. There's no law against that. No. But you were known around the courthouse. I don't have to listen to you, Race. And only a moment ago you were so happy to see me. I hope Blackie sees you next. I really hope so. Good night, Mr. Race. Lola Martin stalked out on me before I could stop her, so I called Ed Leibis, a police lieutenant friend of mine who happened to be in charge of the manhunt for Blackie Martin. I told him where he could locate Lola when I went home and turned in. I slept fitfully until... Come on, come on, come on, Race. Wake up. Wake up, will you? You look happy, my perforated friend. How's your shoulder? Fine, fine. And I am getting a chuckle out of having the laugh on you, Britchin. Look at this newspaper extra which I just picked up. You know I can never focus my eyes before breakfast. What's it saying? Says that you are wrong about Blackie Martin. He shot and killed his wife Lola in the Times Square subway station at 2 a.m. this morning in front of 20 eyewitnesses. Let me see that, Mark. Yes, sure. Have at it. So he finally paid her off. That's what it says, Maestro. And furthermore, there was just a flash on the radio. The police have Blackie staked out in an empty warehouse over by the waterfront. Well, look, let me jump into some clothes and you can drive me over there. Well, here we are, Race. This is the finish for Blackie. Well, let's walk it, Graham. Come on. Hello, Graham. Oh, hello, Race. Well, you got Lola after all. I know. I'm sorry. We're gonna be married. I guess this winds it up though. Won't hurt anybody else. Where is he? In the cell of that building. It's full of storage bins and he's got the doorway covered. They've sent for equipment to smoke him out. Who's in charge? Lieutenant Leavis. Here he comes now. Hello, Graham. Race. Hello, Lieutenant. Hello, Ed. Looks like you're having a little trouble. Well, I could get him if I had to, but why should I risk losing a man? He can't get out. What are the orders? Shoot to kill? I don't like it, but that's it. He's dangerous. Ed, I want you to do me a favor. Pull back your police line to the other side of the street and let me go in after him. Are you tired of living, Race? Oh, you know I'm not an idiot, Ed. I'm playing a hand. Well, all right, Race. I'll chip in with you. Say, Sergeant. Sergeant, come on. Move those men back. All right, move back there. Well, there you are, Race. It's all yours. No, no. Don't do it, Race. He'll kill you for sure. What a column this'll make. Oh, you see, Mark? You wouldn't want a spoiled Graham's column, would you? See you later. No, no. Wait. This is Frank Race, Black Eam. I'm coming down to talk to you. Come on. Make a wonderful target when you come through that doorway. There he goes. You missed me, Black Eam. I've been, and you can't see me any better than I can see you. There's no light with that door closed. I'll find you a darlin' light, Race. I'll find you not killin'. Maybe, but you're a cinch to die in here unless you listen to me. All right, Race. I'm listening. Go on, talk. Here's my proposition, Black Eam. I want you to... Hey, he's been down there a long time. I'm afraid Black Eam got him as he went through the door. Smoke equipment is here now. Hey, more shots! Look, solid door. It's moving. Get that door covered, men. On your fire, of the Reds. Race. All right, nice work, Race. Come out. Hold on. I'm gonna go get the door. I'm gonna go get the door. Come on, men. Race. All right, nice work, Race. Come out. Hold that crowd back there, men. Hey, look, look. Look, he got Black Eas carrying him out. I have to get this body into the warehouse office, Ed. Right. Come on, Deleman. You can come in, too, Graham. And call your paper. You. Boy's heavy. Dump him here until the wagon comes. Thanks for a great story, Race. I'd better call before deadline. Yeah, hold it a minute. The story is bigger than you think. What do you mean? Who would a man try to kill first, Graham? A judge who was only doing his job? Or a wife who double-crossed him? Well, I guess Lola was the main one, but he got to the others first. No, he didn't. Because Blacky didn't kill the others. The person who killed the others had to kill Mrs. Joukowsky, too. Because she recognized him. It was somebody who went to the courthouse every day. Somebody like you, Graham. Covering the beat for your paper. What motive would I have for killing Judge Dexter? Because you thought he was wise to you and Lola. That's why she was shining up to him. And you figured the other murders would make the police redouble their efforts to get Blacky and shoot him on sight. You haven't got a shred of proof, Race. Not yet. But I think you have the proof on you. A.38 caliber gun. The gun that killed three people. It seemed like Martin's gun was a.45. All right, genius. Here's that gun. I'll move back. All of you. Grab that gun, Graham. I said move back, Lieutenant. I know how to use this. Let's be smart, Lieutenant. Do like the man says. I'm going out that door. Don't try to stop me. Well, don't leave without saying goodbye to Blacky. He's right behind you. And he still has that.45. Dead men don't worry me, Race. I ain't so dead. There's your ghost. Grab that gun, Graham, before I put a slug through you. Nice going, Blacky. Now you might as well give the gun back to me since it isn't loaded. Why, you tricky fellow. I was hoping you'd try that. Well, Race, we won't have much trouble taking him in. Thanks, Blacky. But you still have a date with the electric chair yourself. I'm ready. I know mine now. As long as I know that Graham is going to be practically sitting in my lap when they turn on the juice. What went on down in the cellar, Race? I knew Graham was guilty. I knew Blacky didn't want to die and let Graham get away. So I sold him on this little act. Oh, brother, for my money you get the Academy Award. Thanks, Mark. Let's get this unconscious Oscar to the police station. Lovely hot day. No, I'll never catch up on my sleep. The Adventures of Frank Race starring Tom Collins with Tony Barrett as Mark Donovan comes to you from Hollywood. Others heard in tonight's cast were Lillian Bajoff, Michael Ann Barrett, Mark Lawrence, Lou Krugman, and Dick Ryan. This series is written and directed by Buckley Angel and Joel Murcott. The music is composed and played by Ivan Ditmars. Be sure to be with us again this time next week for another dramatic chapter in The Adventures of Frank Race. Art Gilmore speaking. This is a Bruce Ells production. .
