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 Roughnecks Will. Sometimes people come back to you through the years, people you used to know or work with. They come on unexpected phone calls or chance meetings on the street of some strange town. Some of them you want to see and some you hope you'll never see again. Jim Fallon was one of the former. We'd gone through law school together, played football together. And one night in 1943, we'd almost died together in a parachute jump behind Rommel's lines. So when Mark Donovan relayed Jim's call to me, I told him to ignore the red lights. I was full of the excitement that always comes from the thought of seeing an old friend or an old flame. There's the layout. Office suite 401 to 416. Look at the names on that door, will you? Fallon, Forster, Peabody, Morton and LaRoche. The Tony's at law. Yes, Jim Fallon's come a long way, Mark. A guy has to come a long way when he spends every day working till 16 offices. Let's go in. No, no, no. He said you should come to the door, Mark, 411, ignoring that it is marked private. Sounds top secret. Here's 411. Hello, Jim. Race. Oh, man, it's good to see you. You know Mark Donovan. We spoke on the phone. How are you? I understand you're having a little trouble, Jim. Race, this isn't little. I can brush any doubts out of your mind by mentioning the name of my problem. Martin Bayard Cullen. That could be serious. Wait a minute, that name sounds familiar. Who is he, right? Martin Bayard Cullen's an old man who avoids publicity. You can't avoid it altogether, though. It's hard to avoid it if you happen to be one of the ten richest men in the world. Holy cow. We handle his legal business, Race. Since this morning, though, I've been wishing we didn't. He's kicking up his heels, huh? No. But somebody broke into this office last night. They opened Cullen's will. I want you to read the will, Race. He wrote it himself. And it's an invitation to murder. Is this it? Yes. Brief, isn't it? One paragraph. One paragraph, written with TNT. Go ahead, read it. It is my wish that my entire fortune pass into the hands of only one person. However, I list here the four persons who have been closest to me with the provision that the entire estate go to the last one surviving. The last one surviving? Wow, brother. You know the four people named here, Jim? Yes. Two of them are granddaughters of his wife by a former marriage. Cullen never had any children. And they must be John and Leona Richards. Yes. And there's Carrie Bragg. She's been Cullen's nurse for the past ten years. And the man, Bill Forsyth, is Cullen's secretary. Hmm. And all any one of them has to do to become fabulously wealthy is murder the other three. That kind of money has turned some pretty nice people into murderers, Race. Yes, it has. Now tell me, does Cullen know his will's been opened? Yes. And formed him immediately. I asked him to change the will at once and let it be known that it has been changed. But he won't do it, huh? Nope. And he told me not to call an investigator. But I can't hold still for that. I'd like to have a talk with Cullen. Will you clear a meeting? I'll try. I'll do it while you're driving up to his place. The estate is called Gray Acres. It's in Larchmont. The Gray Acres was appropriately named. The house had the grim aspects of a medieval castle. And even the grass and trees seemed colorless and drab, despite the evidence of care. Martin Baird Cullen matched the general atmosphere. Only his large dark eyes glittered through a shriveled and pasty skin as he lay propped up by pillows. But when he spoke, his voice belied his nightly years. My orders to Fallon were quite precise. I want no investigation. I let you in so I could tell you that. Now get out. I'm not here on your behalf, Mr. Cullen. I just wanted to see what kind of a man it is who uses his fortune to try to influence murder. Since I'll be the first to be murdered if it does happen, it's still my affair. It's time for your medicine, Mr. Cullen. This is one of my heir's race? Or shall we say that Miss Bragg is a candidate? She doesn't seem to be out murdering anybody, but she is giving me medicine to drink. Someday it may not be exactly what the doctor ordered. Isn't that right, Miss Bragg? That's right, Mr. Cullen. She agrees with me, race. See? Everybody agrees with an old man. Especially when he has millions they may get their claws on. Come on, Mark. Let's get out of here. Yeah. The medicine ain't the only thing that smells in this church. Now there's a sweet old guy. Will you tell me how that prune with the lemon poise now will get to be rich? He started out as a rough neck and a drilling crew. Oil wildcatters. Now he's loaded. Oil and steel, bonds, stocks, cattle. You name it, he's got it. You seem pretty well informed about the old man, race. Oh, hello, Forsyth. How'd the interview go? Not too well. You warned me. Look, Forsyth, you're his secretary. Anybody been especially snoopy lately? Only me, frankly. I have my finger on all of the old man's affairs. You know about the will? I've always known about the will. You see, race, I typed it. The Will You know, race, that old guy must be tired of living. And at his age, I can understand him. At his age, a man can be tired of a lot of things, Marcus. But he can also be very determined. Like about what? About not wanting things investigated. There has been a blue convertible perched on our tail since we left the estate. Well, I will lose it, but quick. No, let's play it the other way. Slow down, come to a stop at that billboard sign, all right? All right, get out. Pretend to be checking the tires. I get you. Here comes the car. It's slowing down. We've got to stop, though. Duck, race, duck! Come on, Mark, behind the side. They're backing up. Keep low. You must have winged him. The car got out of control. He's hurt, not badly. Let's follow him. I can't. Look, he nicked one of the tires on my heap. That's too bad. It's too dark to get the license number. I've got all the numbers I need. They say that somebody doesn't want us around. Did you get a look at the driver? No, I just fired at the hood. Now let's get that tire changed to pay another call. On who? On Joan and Leona Richards, Cullen's granddaughters. Oh, bro, if the Danes which live here are related to that old money bags, I will bet you we are about to come face to face with a couple of pigs. Remember, Marcus, they're only related by marriage. Yes? My name is Frank Race. I'm an investigator working for your grandfather's attorney. Oh, won't you come in? I'm Leona Richards. The hallway was dim, and so was the room. But not so dim that you couldn't see the large eyes. Eyes that could reflect hurt easily. They looked as though they made a habit of it. Except for that, her face was plain. But something about her said, if I ever come into your arms, you won't want to let me go. I'd offer you a drink or something, Mr. Race, but... Well, the household budget won't stretch that far. Oh, I could run down and pick up a drink. Never mind, Mark. If my grandfather sent you to bring me back to Grey Acres, Mr. Race, I won't leave my sister. Saying that doesn't make you happy. I didn't know you'd live at Grey Acres. We moved out three months ago. Why? Because my sister... Because your sister had reasons. And the reasons are nobody's business but mine. Another girl stood in the doorway to the bedroom. She looked like Leona, only she was beautiful. Her eyes were deep and dark, but hard as polished onyx. It was a few seconds before I realized that her left arm was hung in a sling. John, this is Mr. Race. I heard everything. What do you want? Your grandfather wrote a will, and some eager beaver wrote in it a little ahead of schedule. Oh, lightening cigarette, Lona. The terms of the will might place your life in danger. Your life and your sister's. Suppose you let me worry about that. No, but it doesn't end there. This particular will might also work in reverse and make you the menace. Sounds like grandpa's up to his old divide and conquer tricks. Don't say things about him, John, please. I know you're fond of him, but I'm not. Do either of you own a blue convertible? Well, yes, I do. She owns it, and I use it. I see. Now tell me, why the sling? What happened to your arm? I don't think my answer's going to surprise you, Mr. Race. Somebody shot me. Look, Race, what for have we gone back to that mausoleum? I think it might be wise to hang around Grey Acres for a while. Think that John Richards' dame was the one who was using us for target practice? No, slow down, Marcus. There's the gate to Grey Acres up ahead. There's more than the gate there, Race. There's a guy with a shotgun blocking the road. You stay in the car. I'll talk to him. Put your hands up there. They're up. Who are you? What do you want? My name's Race. I'm working for Mr. Cullen's attorneys. Oh, yeah. I told me he was here earlier today. I'm Blair, Tom Blair. Old man Cullen hired me to go up property. Cullen hired you? Yeah. I used to work for him before, you know. Whenever there's trouble, he sends for Blair. Do you have orders not to let me through this gate? Well, I use my own judgment. Cullen's got a lot of faith in my judgment. Well, do I pass or do I make camp out here on the road? Who is it, Blair? Oh, Mr. Forsythe. It's that investigating fellow. Oh. Hello, Race. I thought I'd come back, just in case. Yes, I had a hunch you would. I have a room prepared for you and your friend. You Latin man, Mr. Forsythe? Have any objections, Blair? Me? Why should I? I was just wondering, that's all. I'll drive up with you, Race. There's space for your car in the garage. I think you'll be comfortable in here. Holy smokes. Ali Cairn would be comfortable in this joint. Even with an outrider. What a room. Before you go, Forsythe, I've got a question. Fire away. Was Joan Richards here this afternoon when I was here? No, no, she wasn't. But Leona was. Driving her blue convertible? Oh, yes. It was a present from her grandfather last Christmas. A matter of fact, I got one too, Race. And so did Mrs. Bragg, the nurse. You mean there were three of them? That's right, three of them. And that? Three convertibles, all identical. I thought about it. And after we turned in, I dreamed about it. Leona had been here, but Joan was the one who'd been shot. I twisted fippily and seemed to doze off finally. Then... Holy cow, holy cow, Race, what was that? What was that? Somebody screamed. Come on. Come on. That came from the old man's room, Race. Hurry! Where's the light switch? I'll get it. Martin Baird Cullen lay propped on the pillars. His staring eyes fixed right on us, his withered old hands motionless against the white counterpane. It wasn't the stare of death, though. His glittering eyes turned to the far side of the bed. I moved around to see what he was staring at. I needed only one look. She was on the floor in a crumpled heap, her neck very neatly broken. Nurse Carrie Bragg wasn't going to inherit anything. She was dead. We'll return to the adventures of Frank Race in just about one minute. And now back to the adventures of Frank Race. The murder of Nurse Carrie Bragg narrowed the field of Cullen's potential heirs to three. Leona and Joan Richards and Bill Forsyth, which were the victims of the murder of the former chief of staff. The murder of the former chief of staff was the most important. The murder of the former chief of staff was the most important. Leona and Joan Richards and Bill Forsyth, which meant the two more of them had to die before there was any payoff. I sent Mark into town to get a few answers from Jim Fallon at his law office. And I started for a stroll around the grounds when... I'm not telling where the shot had come from. I dived behind her head, flushing some birds. I caught a wisp of smoke coming from a clump of trees near the ivy-covered wall and got off a wild shot in return. Hi! Who's shooting there? You should know. You started it. That you, Ray? Yes. Well, this is May here, Blam! I knew it wasn't Gregory Peck. You crazy man, what you shooting at May for? I wasn't shooting at you until you tried to pick me off of that rifle. Come out of those trees with your hands up. Man, I wasn't shooting at you. You clipped the top of the heads as soon as I dove into it. I didn't even say you. I was just shooting the Blue Jays. Here, I'll come out holding the gun over my head. What makes you so hot about Blue Jays, Blam? Oh, they're bad, man, bad. Getting the chicken coops to suck the eggs dry, you know. There aren't any chicken coops here. Well, I guess I just got the habit from down at home. Maybe yes, maybe no. I think you were trying to scare me, Blam. Oh, now why would I want to do a thing like that? I don't know. But whether it's me or a bunch of innocent birds you're after, take a tip. Make your first shot count the next time you start playing this game. Because next time, I won't miss. Mark came back from Fallon's office with information that turned out to be a few lights. His latest will of Collins had been drawn up three months before and replaced a more sane, reasonable request that had been properly drawn by the attorneys. The contents of the first will told me it was time to have another chat with Leona and Joan Richards. Please believe me, Mr. Race. I knew nothing at all of my grandfather's will. Either the first one or the new one that's causing all the trouble. His original will left you one third of his estate and the rest was to go to Cherokee. That doesn't surprise me, Mr. Race. Leona's his favorite. Well, then you should be interested in the contents of the new will. Because they call for action, not orders. You're wasting your time, Mr. Race. I know the contents of the new will and I didn't have to break into Fallon's office to learn them. I'm going out. Leona likes to answer questions, but I don't. Oh, Race, she's so stubborn. Suppose something happens to her. Hey, hey, this is no time to break up, baby. I'm sorry. I'm so nervous and upset. Here, here, let me use my hand with you. Maybe we can get those eyes pretty again. Let go of me. No. Do you know that... that's the first time a man ever kissed me? You can do that without practice. You'll be murdered next time around. You don't believe me, do you? Should I? It's true. I've never danced, I've never had a date and I'm 24. Now go ahead and laugh at me. If you mean that, I'm not laughing. Grandfather never thought that any man was good enough for us. That's why Joan's angry with him. That's why we left Greyhakers after he found out that... Go ahead. I can't. What did your grandfather find out about Joan? Maybe important. I can't tell you, I can't, that's all. All right, baby. It's your secret and you can keep it. I hope it doesn't cost you your life. Well, hey, about time you got back. Where you been? I've been walking around town, thinking. About a dame judging by the look on your kisser. And I'll bet it's at Leon and Richard's, too. Brother, that's bad. If you mean one of the girls killed Carrie Bragg your way off base, Marcus, they didn't do it. Oh, brother. You've got so many stars in your eyes, you can't see them all. The old man's angry with them. Might change her will in the spur of the moment and change it within an hour. They know that. All right, so what? So if either of them intended to latch onto the whole fortune, they'd have killed Cullen first to make sure the will isn't changed. Well, wait a minute. That makes sense. With that Bragg dame dead, that only leaves one guy. Yes. He's Bill Forsyth, Cullen's secretary. Let's go in and have a talk with him. Well, okay. Which is his room? This is the one he came out of last night. Forsyth! Maybe he's in the library. That's where he works, you know. Yeah, we'll see later. Meanwhile, let's have a look around here. Hey, what are we looking for? Don't worry, no, Marcus. You go through that bureau and I'll take the writing desk in here. Okay. You're a very neat person, Bill Forsyth. Everything in order. Yeah. Hey, he wears nylon shorts, too. Look, imagine me in these things. Never mind that. Keep going. You may come in. There doesn't seem to be anything but clothes in here. I guess there... Hey, look at this. What is it? A framed picture of John Richards in a birden suit. That babe should wear tighter dresses. This I never know. Hmm. Now, look at the inscription down on the corner. Huh? Oh, I didn't notice that. You wouldn't. To Bill with all my love, now and forever. John. Wait a minute. There's something else under the guy's pajamas. A couple of letters. Hey, listen to this. Darling, Miss Bragg says the doctor gave Grandfather a sedative. I can meet you at tonight's usual place. Is it signed? Uh-uh. It must be from John. Put everything back. But does it mean something? It means plenty. Old man Cullum found out about John and Bill Forsyth. And he knows that Kerry Bragg was helping them. So he set up the will to start them knocking each other off. I'm afraid that's it. Are you going to look around anymore? Just in the closets. I want to find out if Forsyth has any weapons hidden around. You take that one, I'll take this one. Bryce. Bryce, come here. What is it? Oh, brother. It's Forsyth. He's been hanged. For the next few hours, the number of police on the grounds at Gray Acres were almost equal to the blades of grass. I cleared permission and took Mark into town for a visit to the morgue. Only it was a newspaper morgue. Look, Tom, look. I've read the newspapers for the past ten years and my thumb is worn out turning to pages. Keep going. All right, all right. But what are you looking at? Just the items Dateline, Texas. If it comes up, you'll know it. Nothing ever happens in Texas except an occasional murder like this one. What is it? Old stuff. Happened eight years ago. In the oil fields, a wildcat was killed in a gunfight by a guy... Oh, a guy named Blair, Tom Blair. That's it, baby. Give it to me. Here, look. A witness said Blair did the shooting and couldn't identify him before the grand jury. No indictment. Yeah, but how could he not recognize a man he knows? He must have been bought off. Look, look at this. The murdered man had refused to sell Cullen an oil lease and Blair was in charge of Cullen's drilling operations. Come on. We've got to get back to Grey's Acres fast. Hey, look. The garage is all lit up. There's Blair and one of the maids. They were carrying somebody. Hurry. Bryce, get me a hand here. No, it's John Richards they're carrying. Look, Mark, grab the car and get out of here. Find Leona Richards and stick to her. Bring her back here. Right. Here, Blair, let me grab her. What happened? Maid farmer. She's in the garage with the motor running. I passed by. It's really gas. All right. Put her down here. I'm afraid she's dead, Bryce. There's some flesh here. Oh, poor mademoiselle John. Does Cullen know about this? Well, how could he know, man? We just haul her out this minute. I think I'll go tell him. Sure will bust her up. Yes, he sure will. Cullen seemed never to sleep. His eyes burned at me as I came into the room. There was a little color in his cheeks. He made no effort to conceal the victory he was tasting. If I had things figured right, though, I had one ace, the fifth ace in the deck. A joker. Well, race. There's been an accident, Cullen. It has. People always blame me for things on accidents, race. Usually things that happen are planned to happen. Didn't anybody ever tell you that? One of your granddaughters is dead, Cullen. This time I know it was an accident, a mistake, because the wrong girl got killed. The wrong girl? Yes. It wasn't Joan, Cullen. The owner is dead. His eyes went wild, and the veins at the side of his neck thickened, and a flood of red spread across his cheeks. He drooled at the corner of his mouth, and then he screamed, Brea! Brea! I'm here, Mr. Cullen. Leona, I told you not to hurt Leona. You were supposed to kill Joan and the others. Shut up, you old fool. That's all I wanted, Cullen. He did kill Joan. Leona's safe. Leona. Leona. I'm afraid you've been too smart, race. I'm afraid you've been too smart, race. I'm afraid you've been too smart, race. I'm afraid you've been too smart, race. I'm afraid you've been too smart, race. I'm afraid you've been too smart, race. He moved toward me, a drilling rough neck, squatting solid. I fought tough men, but not as tough as this one. His hands were as hard as a diamond drill. I'm going to break your head. I had to keep him off, but no matter how hard I hit him, he kept closing in. Finally, he got his hands on my throat. Now, race, I'm going to kill you. Struggle and pestilence was no good. Suddenly, I got tired and blacked out. Across the centuries and out of time and space, I came alive again. I didn't know whether I was in this world or the next, because the dead eyes of Martin Baird Cullen stared down on me from where he had slumped across the edge of the bed, seized with a final heart attack. But then I heard a welcome voice that belonged to the living. Come on, come on, you ain't dead. Wake up, will you? Hi, Mark. Hi. Oh, that skull, that blair has gone. Look, I bent me an wrench when I whacked him with it. You couldn't have gone all the way back into town and come back in time. No, no, no, no. You see, I got to thinking and I turned around. I figured the blair was too heavy, so how could Leona get hurt if he was here? I figured the old man was using the well to cover his own dirty work. You're very astute reasoning, Mark. Yeah, I thought so. I called the cops while he was out and Leona called here. I told her the whole story and she wants to see you. Oh, that's good, Mark. It's very good. Because I want to see her too. She'll be one of the richest girls in the world when Cullen's will goes to promane. And her education has been woefully neglected. She'll have to be taught how to protect herself. And you're going to teach her how? I ain't going to be shooting blue jade, boy. 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 Gloria Blondell, Frank Lovejoy, Michael Ann Barrett, and Wilms Herbert. This series is written and directed by Buckley Angel and Joel Murcott. The music is composed and played by Ivan Dittmarz. Be sure to be with us again at the same time next week for another dramatic chapter in The Adventures of Frank Race. Art Gilmore speaking. This is a Bruce Ells production.
