Personal notice, danger is my stock and trade. If the job's too tough for you to handle, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. The Say, uh, did you ever hear of anyone who was afraid of an angel? Now, I'd always heard there were pretty nice people with wings and harps and stuff. But not so with Lefty's Gal Friday. She had this angel as figured packing 45s, all aimed at her. Now, instead of getting panicky and chewing her nails until she resembled Venus de Milo, she should have looked up George Valentine. His motto is, let George do it, and he isn't afraid of 45s or even 46s. I must say, however, she had a reason to be scared. You see, she played a big part in building this angel. And just in case you've never seen an angel being manufactured, listen, and you'll get it firsthand. You say your name's Emerson. You heard me, Mr. Valentine, Frank J. Emerson. Oh, but you're the president of... That's right, young lady, Emerson and Citibank. And I'm a very busy man. I only want to know if you've read about Lefty Lumpert's death in that auto accident. Sure, who hasn't? Naturally, naturally. When the biggest crook in town dies, it's news. Young lady, but I know what sort of reputation Mr. Lumpert was supposed to have. Well, just because they could never nail anything on him, not even the income tax board. Of course, yes, yes, I know. But I must remind you that Mr. Lumpert owned a perfectly respectable small investment office. Invest in a dog track or a five-foot shelf of bookies. Perfectly respectable, I said. Regardless of whatever criminal connections or power, Mr. Lumpert may or may not have had. That front, that business of his, was proven many times to be perfectly... Yeah, perfectly respectable. I heard you the first time. Okay, okay. Lumpert was real smart. He worked alone. He never told anybody anything. His ostensible occupation was strictly legal. There, that reassure you? Well, yes. I just wanted to make sure... Only, what's it to you? Why so insistent? And why should a banker like yourself be concerned with a guy... Mr. Valentine, my bank has done business with lefty Lumpert many times. Oh. And never mind that tone of voice either. A dollar is a dollar. Our money was only used in legitimate purposes. It's not up to us to refuse business to a man merely because he's supposed to be engaged in other outside activities, is it? No, really, let's not be naive. Oh, no, no, let's not be naive. All right, Mr. Valentine, it's embarrassing. Of course it is. Business is business and I have nothing to be ashamed of, but, well, I've never liked it very much. Then why are you here? Why does Lumpert's death mean... Oh, no, no, no, don't get the wrong idea, please. There's nothing I'm really worried about. But you see, he had a secretary, Myrtle Dane, and through the years I've got to know her pretty well. Myrtle Dane? The one who was in the accident with him? That's right. Probably as close to him as anyone could ever be. At least anyone from the legitimate end. She is quite a person, Myrtle. She's rationalized working for him much better than I have. A very realistic person, a very good secretary. If she knows anything about leftist more private life, she's certainly never let on. Wait just a minute. The newspaper said that Miss Dane was hurt. She was driving, they were going to an appointment and in a hurry, but the steering wheel saved it. Banged up and shaken a good deal, yes, but not badly enough to make her behave irrationally. What do you mean? I've just been to see her at the hospital. Normal, friendly act, that's all. But she refused to see me. I forced my way in, but it didn't do any good. For some reason, Mr. Valentine, the girl is terrified. She's even afraid of me. Ah. Well, what do you want me to do about it? If there is any scandal or kickbacks or new discoveries about Lumpert's activities now that he's dead, I'll admit I want to protect my own name and the name of the bank. But also, Mr. Valentine, I think it's my duty as a citizen to wonder why is she afraid? You know, I think that's a pretty silly question. Now, if you'd taken part in bumping off the town's leading gangster, how would you feel? Now, don't start looking for the nearest cave because I want you to hear this. Now, let's see how George is doing with Myrtle. Nope. She's still standing her ground. No, I don't want to see anyone. I told you. They brought you some candy, dear, in the doctor's. Please, nurse, how many times do I have to tell you? Oh, Myrtle, how are you feeling? What? Will you excuse us a minute, nurse? Yes, nurse. Oh, come back here. I told you. Sorry, but she's a friend of Miss Brooks here. Hello. Who are you? What do you want? Nothing. Brought you some candy. Take it away. Get it out of here. Hey, hey, take it easy. Myrtle, look, it is just candy. That's all. It won't blow up or anything. A little nervous, aren't you? I'm sorry. The nurse called you Mr. Valentine, didn't she? You're George Valentine. I know you're all right. There's a hall full of flowers and fruit and candy out there. Lots of people have been pestering you, huh? Suddenly I'm popular at my age and with my face, can you imagine? Who sent you? Emerson. Oh, the banker. Well, you can tell Mr. Emerson that I am not just another working girl out of a job. I have been very well paid. I don't want another job. That I am taking a year off to take a trip around the world and will probably never come back to this town or ever talk about the time I've spent here. Hold on, hold on, will you? I don't believe you. What? Mr. Valentine, the doctor says I can leave this hospital in about ten minutes and I tell you I'm going straight to the airport. I know, I know, sure, you're running away fast. But to work for a guy like Lefty Lumpert, you must be a very sharp and cold-blooded girl. Certainly smart enough to know that people will raise their eyebrows and say, oh, she only worked in his legitimate enterprises, huh? Running away, huh? Keeping your mouth shut. You wouldn't believe me one way or another. Any more than anyone else would when I tell them I know nothing about Lefty's criminal connections. No, you're wrong again. I do believe you. Thank you. A dollar is a dollar, you know. But it takes some rationalizing to work at a job like mine for so many years and ignore the other kind of remarks. Whose remarks? What makes you so bitter, Myrtle? Oh, no you don't. My personal life is still private. Big Shot dies unexpectedly. Faithful, tough private secretary is suddenly scared to death. Why? Well, that's the only reason I'll believe you didn't really know anything about Lefty. Because now you don't even seem to know whom you should be afraid of. Mr. Valentine, there's an assistant district attorney by the name of Bill McCoy. Do you know him? No, but I can certainly find out. Find him and meet me at Lefty's office. Give me an hour to get dressed and checked out of here. Why? Because the two of you are like cold water in the face. Oh, no, I'm not afraid of Bill. Maybe you've just reminded me of my debt to society, that's all. Is he the one, Bill? What one? I'm not very good at double talk. Yes, you are. Because I'm doing it right now, of course I am. He's the only person who hasn't come to see me. Bill McCoy. All right, so I'll go see him. And we'll all try to solve the riddle of Lefty together, shall we, Mr. Valentine? Well, that's the general idea. I'm scared, Mr. Valentine, but you're wrong. It's not because I don't know whom to be afraid of. No. And it's not any mysterious partner of Lefty's either. It's an angel. I'm scared to death of Lefty's angel. An angel, George? Protector, Brooksie. That's what she was talking about. He's a guy like Lefty. He couldn't get along without someone to protect him from higher up. Oh, someone respectful. Maybe that's why the police could never get anything far enough. Hey, hold it. Huh? Hey, you. That's not the way you get into a hospital, is it? Through the fire entrance? You make up the rules or something? Oh, but I got friends on this floor. That brightens my whole day. Now get out of the way. Hey, look, that's an operating room. You want to visit that? Eh. Only a couple of private rooms up here. You're mixed up. At least my friend doesn't want to see anybody. Come on, come on. I'll show you the reception desk. I got business to attend to and I get out of the way. Oh, no you don't. I'm going to see her and you can't stop me. That's what you think. All right, all right. Cut it out. Mistake, see? That's all. On the wrong floor, I guess. Hey, hey, wait a minute. I'll come back here. You... See you again sometime. George, what on earth was that? He stopped being tough when I bumped his chest when I noticed he carried a gun. Oh. Is she afraid of an angel or a devil, George? Hey, look, get to the police and give them a description of that guy, will you? And check the reception desk on everybody else who's tried to see Myrtle. I got a hunch this case is going to go off like a string of firecrackers. Did we keep you waiting, Myrtle? Found your friend here in the barbershop. Hello, Myrtle. Hello, Bill. Well, that's a friendly greeting. Why did you want to see me here at Lefty's office, Myrtle? I thought the big investigator might enjoy a chance to search through Lefty's private papers. Well, McCoy, it seems like the place to start if we're going to try to find out who his angel was. No, no, I just thought it would be a good idea. We're too late. Somebody beat us to it. Look. Holy smoke. Yeah, looks like a typhoon went through here. It was like that when I got here a few minutes ago. Filing cabinets, open papers all over the floor. Yeah, and any incriminating papers just plain aren't here anymore, check. I've never told this to Bill, Mr. Valentine. Lefty always said the law would never get him. He had an angel watching over his shoulder. Yeah, an angel who just tore this place apart. Yes, that's the point. Lefty was no fool. If there was such a person, then somewhere he must have kept a file on him to protect himself. Only where is it? Oh, cut it out, both of you. He didn't keep it here. Huh? How do you know? If his own secretary is... I was more delicate, but I ransacked the place myself two nights ago. You what? And there wasn't anything here then, Valentine. Two nights ago? The same night you took me to the movies? Oh, now take it easy, Murcle. You said you had to go home early to get some sleep. Mr. Valentine, do you know how many years this waste basket from the district attorney's office has been trying to get something on my boss? Do you know how many laws he's broken himself trying to get... Cut it out, will you? A job is a job. Yes, isn't it, though? Like taking me out of... Okay, never mind. You're on opposite sides of the fence. You don't like each other. Murcle, he's dead now. Please, won't you... Oh, skipper, will you? Hey, Murcle, did Lefty have a safe deposit box? Yes. I know where the key is. You know what's in that box? No. I suppose you won't believe that either, do you? Oh, for the love of... Look, Murcle, the thing I've been trying to do ever since he died is to round up that musclehead of his, Murphy. I don't know anything about him either. I've only seen him once or twice. Hey, hold it, will you, please? What's all this? Who's Murphy? The other side of Lefty's life. Bodyguard, errand boy. Murcle's right. He never hung around the legitimate end. Murphy is a big, ugly guy with one cauliflower ear, which is probably the only ear that's ever heard Lefty in private with whoever he dealt with. Wait a minute. I'll get that. Hello? George, I'm down at the police station and I gave them a description of that man in the hospital. Oh, Brooksie, yeah, yeah. I already know who he is. You do? Just caught on this minute. His name was Murphy. He's the link with the angel. Maybe Lefty's only link with his angel. Hey, watch this. Who are you talking to? Mr. Valentine, you mean you've seen Murphy? Where? Wait a minute, Brooksie. Listen. No, George, you listen. You wait a minute. Do you know that they found Murphy ten minutes ago in an alley? Do you know that Murphy's dead, that he's been murdered? Say, this angel really gets around, doesn't he? Or is it Lefty's angel? Could be that eager beaver from the DA's office. I wouldn't know. I only know a good thing when I hear it, just like you're going to right now. And now, Lefty Lumpert, the big shot no one could ever nail, least of all, Bill McCoy, the DA's man who's always handled the case, is finally dead from an automobile accident. But what's to become of Lefty's mysterious underworld empire? Well, the secretary who handled Lefty's legitimate business says that Lefty had an angel, a protector, but she doesn't know who it is. Of course, a faithful bodyguard named Murphy might know, but he's just been shot to death. So if your name is George Valentine, you know that now it'll take some fast flying to catch up with an angel. But, Brooksie, where was the... That's all I know so far, George. The police are down there now. It was in the alley, just a block from the hospital. So it must have happened just after we chased him away from Myrtle. Okay, Brooksie, stay there at headquarters. I'll meet you later. Hey, Myrtle, you said you know where Lefty kept his safe deposit key. Yes, of course. All right with you, McCoy? Sure, if Lefty had a file on the angel somewhere... Okay, then let's go. Sometimes files have teeth. Huh, one of the bigger sized boxes. At least he had plenty of room for this stuff. Miss Dane, Mr. Valentine. Hold it. Oh, well, hello, Mr. Emerson. And McCoy, I noticed you people come into the bank. I hired over as fast as I could. Thanks, but I don't think we need you. Lefty's safe deposit box. That's what you're after. Any objections? Well, no, not at all as far as I'm concerned. I've got the authority. I'll take the responsibility for approving it with a court order. Oh, my signature's on file as Lefty's secretary. If you'd rather we handle it that way. No, no, no, go right ahead. He just wanted to watch it. Okay, here goes. Hmm, plenty of stuff. Well, these are just income tax things. How about this? Oh, wait a minute. No, no, it's the same. And these are audits from the investment office, see? Bonds, bonds, bonds, bonds. Brother, look at this. I know he had a lot of money invested in building this. There's a million bucks worth here, or I'll eat it. Lefty never talked much about his money. Say, look, let's not be naive, Emerson. Lefty couldn't have made that kind of deal with his legitimate business. Of course not. Not a tenth of it. So you prove he had other enterprises. So what? We already know that. Oh, come on, this is no good. We're wasting... Hey. Dusty little envelope down at the bottom. Acme Rattle Service. Here, let me have that. All right, take it easy. A key. Nothing in it but a key. Looks like a house key. We can trace it all right. There's a date on the envelope. Acme will have a record. Sometimes I've called Lefty at his house and there wasn't any answer. I mean, lots of times when he was supposed to be home... And his own home is pure as driven snow. So maybe he had another house. A place nobody knew about. The guy playing it safe would keep a duplicate key in the bank. Okay. I'll see you later. What? I'm running over to Acme. Valentine, you worry about the murder. Running down Lefty's other life is my worry. Well, well. After all this time of getting nowhere, the heroic DA's man steps in... Sure, I'm after a headline. So what? Skip it and I'll call you back in an hour. So you want to know about Murphy's record, eh, Valentine? A guy like Lefty can be a smart lone wolf but not a strong man. Sure, that's the idea, isn't it? So you ask me about the weak link strong man. Johnson, what's eating you anyway? Oh, nothing. Murphy was just as smart as his boss. Never been locked up, never had friends, never hung around bars and shot his mouth off. So he's dead and we might as well forget about him. You want to know something? I bet he didn't even know anything about any angel. Just Lefty's big, fateful musclehead. Then what's all this stuff on your desk here? Angels. I'm starting a list of angels. And do you know how many there might be? What do you mean? The DA's office always thought Lefty played it alone, like a genius. So now we get into it, because there's murder. And what do we find? Well, Emerson at the bank has dealt with him for a long time. We find a corporation executive who played cards every Friday with Lefty for years. A real estate king, a fire chief. My friend, I'm telling you, there could be an angel behind every cloud. Okay, okay, Johnson, I get it. Now, which one is it? His lawyers, that's a best bet. Big respectable outfit. Ask them to call back. Hello. Oh, uh, who is this? Here, give me that phone. Take the extension. What is this, a date bureau? Hello, Myrtle. Mr. Valentine, did he call you? Who? Bill McCoy, he was going to. He was going to call me, and it's nearly two hours. No, no, he hasn't, Myrtle. Say, where are you? I called his office, but they haven't heard from him, and I stopped by his apartment, but nobody answered. Listen to that. Everybody's getting into the act. Wait a minute, wait a minute. Myrtle, I'll ask the police to... I checked the ACME place, and they gave me the address he went to. It's a houseboat. What? But I still can't find Bill. Amateur detectives. Listen, lady. Mr. Valentine, come out here fast, will you? That's where I am, left east hideout, the houseboat. Pretty fancy place. Yes. Rigged strictly for business, though. It's where he must have handled his contacts and things. Well, there's certainly nobody here. Say, was the door open like that when you came here? Yes, I haven't touched anything. I don't care about that. I was just thinking about keys. What? What do you mean? Well, if a guy's careful enough to keep one in the bank, chances are there's only one other left his own key. Well, that was in his pocket in the wreck, George. Lieutenant Johnson checked the number of it for me. So the only key loose is the one McCoy has. So he must be the one who left the door open. But why? Unless he was in such a hurry... Take it easy, will you? He means quite a lot to you, doesn't he? And vice versa. No. No, I hate him. Always following me around. Hey, wait a minute. You notice the wall safe? What? Here, behind the table. George, it's been left open too. By somebody who knew the combination. Johnson can tear this place apart now, but I'll bet he won't find anything. Whatever there was is gone. Bill, I don't care about that. What's happened to Bill? George, yes. Whoever opened it had to know the combination, so it couldn't have just been Mr. McCoy that was here. He could have found it that way. Or he could have found somebody else here and taken the stuff out of it and headed for the DA's office. Oh, no, you know that's not true. George, if the angel was here too... Stop jumping to conclusions, both of you. Come on. You heard me. No. Hasn't shown up at his office. Hasn't phoned anybody. Look, Johnson, what about asking the traffic department? They can't find him either. They're checking taxis now, but no luck so far. Hey, where you going? To McCoy's apartment. Try to get some more leads on him. George, look. McCoy? Hey, McCoy. Bill? Oh, you're wasting your time. Look at the bureau and the closet door. I'll say, somebody sure went through here fast. No neckties on the rack, drawers left open. Uh-huh. No razor blade, no toothbrush. George! No suitcase in the closet either. Somebody else must have been here, don't you think? I mean, it seems to me most likely... Hey, what are you doing at that fireplace? Get away from that... Yeah. Ashes, papers. So you try to step on them and put... They're all burned, whatever they are. Hey, Bruxy, shut the door. Get rid of that draft in here. Maybe I can still make out this... Yeah, that's what they are, all right. My myrtle, look. Who's handwriting is that? I don't know. A second ago, I thought you were scared because you thought McCoy might be dead. Now, come on. Whose papers are these? I don't know. They're burned so badly, I can't tell... Okay, you won't tell me, but I know somebody who can. Naturally, I've seen Mr. Lumpert's writing many times. Try down at the lab. We'll get much out of them, Valentine. But that's what the papers were, all right. Records of payoffs, dealing with gamblers, the whole works, whole underworld empire. Lefty Lumpert, his records, except for one page concerning his angel. Mr. Valentine, no, it can't be true. He wouldn't have... His angel, by the name of Bill McCoy. Well, it's happened before. We're in a better position to protect him. The investigator who somehow could never find anything. Until today. And then he destroyed it as fast as he could and ran. Well, that does it. I got all the evidence we need. Uh-huh. All over but chasing down McCoy. And Myrtle, you'll feel different when we find him. And if we hurry, I know how to do it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Once you said I was tough, Mr. Valentine. Well, now you know why. Take it easy, take it easy. You rationalize yourself into taking a job like mine with Lefty. You deal with phonies. I'm the first nice guy who pays you a lot of attention. Turns out to be a phony, too, it's that kind of a word. I know, I know. You said you knew where to find it. Uh-huh. Yeah, I phoned the River Patrol to meet us. Who? Lefty Lumpard's underworld business is still really intact. Those ashes won't tip off any names or places. And it's a good business, worth continuing. You mean, you mean you think Bill is planning? I mean, suppose Bill wasn't the angel. He was really a partner of Lefty? Suppose there wasn't any angel. After all, you're the only person who ever said there was one. What? Just like you made a big show of being frightened to prove there was one, I guess. But Lefty so often told me... If Lefty wasn't a lone wolf, the way everybody else figured, then the only possible associate was you. Mr. Valentine, I really don't know what... You're tough, all right, sister. Suppose that's what Murphy knew. Suppose that's what he wanted to see you about, you, the new boss. What? Suppose that's why you shot him in the alley near the hospital where he waited for you to come out. Shot him to quiet the only person who knew your real position. This is the most ridiculous accusation. Oh, oh, wait a minute. Except Bill McCoy, of course, sure. The man who was breathing close to the truth. And that's where we're going now, to drag the river real fast before the mud and silt keep us from finding his body forever. His body? Sure. But he was the angel. You saw Lefty's own fire on him. Private secretary for years, that forgery would be a cinch for you. Just like you had time to murder McCoy there at the houseboat, then tear over and fix up his apartment and look like he'd run away. Burn those papers, but leave just enough so we'd think... Stop it, stop it. I won't listen to you. If we find his body where you dumped it, then there's no other way it could work, is there? Yes, yes there is. Like you could keep on driving right across the bridge, right out of town. Oh, put that gun away, sister. Never mind attracting any attention to speeding. You see, there's no reason for me to do all those things. Why would I? Lefty was my... Where did he come from? What are you trying to pull? Right behind us, sister. Head of the Travy Department. I asked her to pick me up. What, you? Oh no, careful with that thing, sister. I'm going to ask the department to reinvestigate that accident of Lefty's, the one with you driving. Because that'd explain everything, wouldn't it? If this case really had three murders. Well, Myrtle, those policemen are getting out of their car. You've only got about two seconds to make up your mind what you're going to say. You know what I'd say if I was in Myrtle's shoes? Bye. Of course you couldn't count on it working. Not to the extent anyway that you can always count on this. Mr. Valentine, you don't count very well, do you? Oh yes I do. Three murders. Because everything that's happened would make plenty of sense. If you maybe happened to give Lefty the extra blow after that accident that supposedly killed him. Or you could have rigged the accident by... I said you don't count very well! Now give me that! Oh yeah, I can still count. So can you. Three murders, I said. Not four. First Lefty, then Murphy, then McCoy. Real tough woman, Brooksie. But she wanted to take over Lefty's empire. Simple as that. Well, at least one thing tonight, George. I noticed this case made you stop calling me Angel. Yeah. You have just heard another adventure with George Valentine. Robert Bailey starred as George, with Virginia Gregg as Brooksie. David Victor and Jackson Gillis wrote the story, with music by Eddie Dunstetter. Now this is yours truly, inviting you to another visit with Valentine, when you will again hear what happens when you let George do it.
