Listen, while the makers of Rexall drug products and 10,000 independent Rexall family drugists bring you Dick Powell as Richard Diamond, private detective. Good evening. This is your Rexall family drugist speaking to you for the 10,000 independent drugists who have made the word Rexall part of our own store names and put the orange and blue Rexall sign on our windows. We've done that because we recommend and sell the 2,000 or more drug products made by the Rexall drug company. A good example of their quality is bismarex, Rexall's popular antacid. Bismarex often relieves acid stomach within one minute, and because its scientifically balanced ingredients vary in the time it takes them to dissolve in the stomach, the relief they give is not only quick but continuous and prolonged. And what we like that of bismarex is what we family drugists are talking about when we tell you, you can depend on any drug product that bears the name Rexall. Good health to all from Rexall. Now your Rexall family drugist brings you another exciting half hour with Richard Diamond, Private Detective starring Dick Powell. Come in. You Mr. Richard Diamond? That's right, but keep it quiet and we'll split the reward. My name is Tobias P. Briggs. He ducked as he edged through the door. If he hadn't, he would have taken the whole wall with him. Nearly seven feet, going up with a pair of shoulders that made King Kong look like a before picture for dynamic tension. But being a guy who lives dangerously, I shook his hand, made a mental note to pick up my scattered knuckles and offered him a chair. Thank you. Mr. Diamond, how much would it cost for you to help me? Well, I usually break my back for a hundred today in expenses. Oh, that's a lot of money. I break a lot of back. Let's talk some more though. Guys your size usually don't need help. Well, I got the money. I've been saving. You see, I wrestled two, maybe three times a week at the Universal Arena. I promised Mike I'd put one purse a week in the bank. He was saving too. Who's Mike? Mike Burton. He's dead, Mr. Diamond. Oh, I'm sorry, Toby. Who was Mike? Well, Mike and me was buddies from the army. He was a great guy, Mr. Diamond. A real great guy. What happened to him? Mike drove a truck for an outfit here in town. Cross state trucking company. We had enough money, say we were going to get our own truck, maybe two trucks, do our own hauling, be in business for ourselves, you know. Last week he was fixing a flat on the highway at night. The car hit him and took off. Oh, hit and run, huh? What's a lousy deal, Toby, and I know what you're leading up to. But the police will hunt the guy down sooner or later. I don't handle traffic accidents. Mr. Diamond, I feel maybe it was no accident. Oh, well then keep going. Well, last week, night before it happened, Mike says to me, Toby boy, I got a hunch we're going into business real quick now. He said we might be able to buy our first truck right after his next haul. Mike knew we didn't have that kind of dough ready. What did he say when you reminded him? He gave me a wink and a punch in the arm, you know, like guys do sometimes. He's a great guy, Mr. Diamond. Oh, I see. Now look, Toby, the afternoon's pretty well shot anyway. I'll poke around town a little, and if I can find anything to back up your suspicions, I'll take the case. If not, you owe me two tickets to your next match. Is it a deal? Yeah, sure. But tell me right away if you know something, huh? I'm in the gym every morning right behind the Universal Sports Arena, 8th Avenue. You know where it is. Oh, sure, sure, yes. Some of my best muscles grew up there. So long, Toby. When he walked out, the office seemed to shrink back to normal. I counted my fingers, picked the one with the most circulation in it, and put it to work dialing Helen's number. I told her I might be late for dinner, threw her a kiss over the pipe, closed the office, and headed to the 5th Precinct Police Station and Lieutenant Walt Levinson. Walt was out of his office, but the king of the jungle, Sergeant Otis, was plopped in his chair. Number 14's crossed and resting on the desk like he was expecting a promotion. Hello, Shamas. You know, for a guy who don't work here, you certainly hang around a lot. I could say the same for you, Otis. Where's the lieutenant? He ain't here. No. Well, he ain't. Isn't. Okay, he isn't. And you isn't as smart as you think you is. Oh, hello, Rick. What's up? Oh, hiya, Walt. Nothing, probably. But I'd appreciate a look-see at the hit-and-run files for the last week. Might be a case. Now it's traffic accidents. Diamond, is there anything you won't do for a buck? Sergeant, ask me for the next dance and you'll find out. All right, cut it out, you two. Here you are, Rick. Take this note to Sergeant for our hit-and-run felony detail. It's down at the end of the hall. Thanks, Walt. You bet. Otis. Yes? Sergeant, Otis, do you mind if I sit down now? Oh, yes, sir. Sorry, Lieutenant. Farrar in hit-and-run gave me the case folder on Mike Burton. Except for a few details, nothing different than Toby's story. Only witness to the supposed accident was a man named Roy Cooley, Mike's driving partner. He had made the identification on the car when the police found it deserted the next day. A quick check on the license had shown it to be stolen. So another lead went down the drain. Only the fact that it had been stolen made me think that Toby might have been right when he said it wasn't an accident. I hit the street and grabbed a cab to the Cross State Trucking Company. From outside the wire fence, there wasn't much to see. A long line of diesel trucks parked side by side. I spotted something that looked like an office and went in. There was a girl inside. Probably not just a girl. She parked her bubble gum and gave her blonde upsweep a pat. Can I help you? Well, if you couldn't, I'd kill myself. Listen, mister, if you've got some business here, you'd better... Oh, honey, honey, I'm looking for Roy Cooley. Know him? That's a good one. Mr. Cooley's my boss. Believe me, I know him. He's not around right now. Cooley's your boss? Well, if you don't mind, I'll wait. What company are you with, mister... Diamond, Richard. I am, you should excuse the expression, a private detective. A private eye? Gee, I never met a private eye before. I thought it was just a kind of story thing. Well, it is, in a way. My name's Patty. For Patricia. I'm sort of a bookkeeper's tonographer around here. Sounds like a big job for just one pretty girl. You're just saying that. I really was lucky to get such a job, especially when I had no experience. Just one week out of business school and pop-o, I go to work for a big company at 65 a week. And what is the secret of your success, Miss Carnegie? My second name's Jablonski, Patty Jablonski. Between you and me, Mr. Diamond, the job's a snap. See all those trucks out there? Well, mostly they just sit like that. We don't make more than 10 shipments a week. You know something? The company's been in the red the whole six months I've been here. Really? But I like it here. I can dress kinda casual, sweaters and things. Yeah. Tell me, dear, did you know Mike Burton? Gee, I sure did. Did you know him? Mm-hmm. How come the boss, Roy Cooley, was driving with Mike the night it happened? He was, wasn't he? I guess that's because Tim Lasco quit a couple of days before. Tim used to be Mike's regular wheel buddy. Mr. Cooley was filling in, I guess. Any idea why Tim Lasco quit? Search me. In times like these, when a guy with five kids quits his job, he must have had a good reason. You wouldn't have Tim's address lying around anywhere, would you? Right on my desk. I mailed in his last check out. I wrote down Lasco's address and paid her off with a few compliments before I left. Tim Lasco's place seemed like the next stop until I saw a couple of warehousemen loading crates into one of the trucks. The crates were marked sporting goods in a big black stencil. And just to keep busy, I found a piece of scratch paper and took down the address they were being shipped to. About that time, a hairy hand reached over my shoulder and made crumpled spitball out of my manuscript. I did a slow turn and saw that the hand was connected to a beer barrel with legs. It talked, too. Looking for something, mister? Who are you? I'm the boss, Cooley. Oh, well, my name's Diamond. The union sent me over to... You can forget that routine. I spoke to the union guys three days ago. Beat it, scram. Oh. How come you were driving with Mike Burton the night he was killed? Mister, you're asking for it. There's a little sign on the front gate you can read on the way out about trespasses. This is private property. Now are you going or do I call some of the boys? It hurt me to admit that he had the law on his side. Not to mention the lump under his jacket from what was probably the new look and shoulder holsters. I figured to do better after a talk with Tim Lascaux. Twenty minutes later, I was climbing the stairs of a brownstone in Washington Heights. The Lascauxes lived on the third floor. I straightened my tie and put my best finger forward. Yes? Oh, hello. I'm looking for Tim Lascaux. Oh, come right in. My husband is shaving. Who is it, Mary? Amanda, see you, Tim. Okay. All right. Excuse me. Call me shaving. Sit down. Thank you. Tim, you used to ride with Mike Burton, didn't you? Hey, who are you? What do you want here? Well, I'm a private detective. Name's Diamond. Mr. Diamond or whoever you are. I don't know nothing. Nothing. You hear? Leave my family alone. Will you go away? Please go away. Why did you quit the cross-state trucking outfit? Honest, Diamond, I don't know nothing. Look, I've been a truck driver 15 years. I didn't like Cooley's outfit. Most of the workers at night. Too many long hauls out west. I didn't like the job. Uh-uh, Tim. Won't buy it. Diamond, try to understand, will you? I've got five kids. Give me a break, will you? There was no sense going around again. I told him I'd be back, which he took about as gracefully as the guy learning he had leprosy, so I left. I rode downtown, squatted on a stool in the coffee shop with a good view of the cross-state warehouse. The coffee shop had a waitress who was as ugly as the warehouse. Got a 75 cent dinner special you interested? I'll have a little coffee and... A lot of donuts. Oh, well then coffee and conversation. Is there any chance you're taking me away from all this? It wouldn't work out. I drink. I'll reform you. Want cream? No. One black. Why come you're staring at that warehouse instead of me? Want to give me a complex? What's the matter? Did I say a dirty word? We kicked it around until the warehouse was empty, except for a muscle-bound night watchman who chained smoke behind the front gate. It was a short walk to the fence behind the loading dock. A garbage can and some fancy scrambling helped me over, and then I squirreled under the line of trucks until I reached the one they'd loaded that afternoon. The crates were nailed tight, and it took a lot of scratching and pulling before I wedged one open. About then I heard three pairs of feet echoing down the loading platform. I ducked out of the truck, but that half-open crate must have missed me after all the time we'd spent together because it spilled over and turned loose a shower of baseball bats. I grabbed one since it seemed like a good idea and snuggled up against the huge tires under the truck. Who's that? Hey, Red, you let anyone in? Not me, boys. Whoever you are, Buster, you better come out with your hands up. We got guns. Okay, Red, you and Harry, stay out in front of the trucks. I'll go coax our visitor out. He was poking around gun first in each truck and then around it. Sooner or later, he was going to reach my truck. So I sprinted across an open 10 yards until I got into a friendly shot of the next truck in line. All right, stay where you are. I can see you. He was lying, and I knew it because I couldn't even see myself. There were three more trucks ahead of me, three more open spaces. Then I'd be at the back fence. I closed my mouth so my teeth wouldn't shine like a beaver at a dentist convention and moved. I reached the last truck and waited. The glint of his gun barrel kept coming at me like a one-eyed cat. I held the bat ready. It must have been a well-balanced hunk of wood because it felt like a feather in my fist. The bat cracked wide open like an overboiled hot dog, but it stretched coolly out. I didn't wait for the others to find out what happened, but I took off over that back fence like a kangaroo with his tail on fire. Once I made the street, I caught a cruising cab and relaxed until my breath caught up with me. The broken bat handle was still in my hand. I was about to chalk it up as an inferior bat until a closer look changed my mind. The inside of the bat was as hollow as a politician's promise, and it wasn't for ventilation. It was there to hide something, something that had to be hidden. You're listening to Richard Diamond, Private Detective, brought to you by the makers of Rexall Drug Products and your Rexall Family Drugists. And here he is. A lot of people think that during the summer they don't need to worry about the dangers of vitamin deficiency, but the truth is, vitamin deficiency is no respecter of seasons. You mean we're just as likely to be low on vitamins during the summer as any other time? Exactly, ma'am. And that's why I tell my customers to continue supplementing their daily diet with Rexall plenumens. Plenum what? Plenumens, Rexall's famous multivitamin capsules. You see, ma'am, just two plenumen capsules a day give you more than your daily minimum requirement of every vitamin for which such requirements have been established. Say, that's really vitamin protection. But that's not all. Plenumens also give you valuable liver concentrate and iron, plus other factors of the vitamin B complex. Gee, they sound expensive. On the contrary, plenumens cost you only pennies a day. But most important, plenumens wear the Rexall label, and you can depend on any drug product that bears the name Rexall. Now back to tonight's adventure with Richard Diamond, Private Detective, starring Dick Powell. So I had the stump of a hollow baseball bat in my hand and a half dozen theories about why it was hollow. But none of my theories proved any connection between a phony trucking outfit and Mike Burton being killed by a hit-and-run driver. I put the bat under lock and key in my office desk, then stopped at the Hall of Records where Pop McIntyre handles the night watchman chores. Under registered corporations, I found the Cross State Trucking Company and the up-to-now unknown name of Harry Fenner listed as its head. I thanked Pop, then went across town to check through the newspaper morgue at the Tribune. It was an all-night job because I had to dig back to 1926 before the name of Harry Fenner sprang off the yellow pages. He used to be a small-time bootlegger, but I couldn't hold that against him. Some of the biggest bootleggers had gone straight and become used car salesmen. I had breakfast before dropping in at the Universal Gym to see Toby. The king-sized client of mine was being mauled in the center of the ring while a chunky little guy in a black beret was hopping around full of advice. No, no, no, no, Toby! You're wrestling with King Kong Rabinowitz! That's no white! Use your knees on his nose, on his nose! Okay. How's this? Oh, don't overdo it! You hide his face from the television camera too long. What's the good if no one sees him suffer? Hey, uh, Toby. Oh, hi there, Mr. Diamond. Hey, Ziggy, I'll be back in a minute. I know you're busy, Toby, so I won't waste time. You found out something about Mike, didn't you? I was right, huh? Well, let's just say that I'm taking the case. Toby, now think hard. Did Mike ever say anything about baseball bats? Anything? Baseball bats? No. Hmm. Sunday before Mike was killed. Yeah, he said something kind of funny. He said maybe he did a home run pretty soon. And Mike never played baseball. Oh. Toby, when you get through here, meet me in my office. I'll tell you what I've got, and we can take it from there. Okay. See you soon. Good afternoon, Mr. Diamond. My name is, uh, Harry Fenner. Oh. Well, who are those two bullet-headed characters with you? They're my business associates. You must be in a rotten business. How'd you get in here? I just had the exterminators over last week. Oh, well, I'm afraid I owe you for a new lock. I'll just add it to the retainer I'm going to pay you. Oh, you're gonna hire me? I have here $500, which I place on your desk. Earning it will be easy. Under whose nails do I put the bamboo splints? I hope your good humor continues. The fact is, Diamond, I collect odd things like antique furniture, marine life specimens, and, uh, old bat handles. Someone stole one of my old bat handles. Money's yours if you can locate it. Something like that would be worth more than money to me. An old bat handle would go just right with my collection of old saxophone reeds and croquet mallets. Is that your polite way of saying no? No, it's my impolite way of saying that a certain bat handle is going to win you the hottest seat in Sing Sing. And if you think I'm bluffing, let's see what they think down at the fifth person. Put down that phone! Ooh! He cracked me across the knuckles with a cane he was carrying, and my left hand took the day off. Then Fender turned to his two happiness boys. Gentlemen, Mr. Diamond is stubborn. Unstubborn him. His two blood collectors came after me like there was a shortage of plasma. I dodged around the desk like a loose guinea pig in a biology class and finally managed to locate a stomach for my one good hand. I sunk it in up to my charm bracelet. But before I could enjoy the reaction, a fistful of dimes creased the back of my head and I came apart. I don't know how long it was before my eyes unglued. I was on my back enjoying a bug's eye view of the ceiling, but that's all I was enjoying. My head felt like a yo-yo being worked by a guy with a DT's, and then something big leaned over me. Mr. Diamond? Hmm? Mr. Diamond? Hmm? You okay? Oh, yeah, yeah, dandy, dandy, dandy. Oh, Toby, if I felt any worse, I'd be dead. Oh, that's too bad. It's a good thing I got here. Those guys are doing a swell job on you for real. Oh, things came back into focus. Fender's muscle men were draped over each other in the middle of the floor, quietly unconscious. It was becoming. I had to get pretty rough with him. It was two against one. Dema-mia-mean. What's it all about, Mr. Diamond? I gave Toby a quick resume about Fender, Cooley, and the phony trucking business, including the hollow bats. As he listened, I saw new muscles growing on his old ones. He wasn't interested in details. Mr. Diamond, did this Fender guy kill Mike? Toby, I think Mike found out that Fender and Cooley were shipping hot goods, probably jewels, in the hollow bats. If he did, I think maybe Fender killed him. Where does this Fender guy live? Wait a minute. It's here on my desk. I was just going to give it to the police when I was crudely interrupted. No, don't call it cops. Give me that address. What's the idea, Toby? We've got the score. It's a cop's job now. No, I say no. This Fender, he got lots of dough. If he did kill Mike, he gets a big lawyer and he goes free. I don't want that, Mr. Diamond. I'll find out. I tried to cool him down, keep him in the office, and then I found myself airborne. He bounced me against the wall, and I decided not to do anything until the room stopped circling. Sorry about this, Mr. Diamond, because you're an all right guy. But don't try to stop me on this. I got up and weaved over to my desk, phoned Walt, and gave him Fender's address in Long Island. Why should I meet you there? Murder, Walt, and bring some friends. Fender's house was a big white colonial with high French windows looking out on a big garden. The windows were closer, so I moved up and looked in. The room was a library or what was left of it. Toby had torn it apart and was now concentrating on Fender. He had him backed up against a tall bookcase holding him by the front of his smoking jacket, high enough so Fender's toes pointed down trying to touch the carpet a good foot beneath. Toby had the jacket pulled tightly around Fender's throat, and Fender was trying for the $64 bread. What's your kid on for? Come on, what's your kid on for? Toby, Toby, let him go. He's gonna tell me. You say that, he's gonna tell me or I break his hot neck. He's too choked up, Toby. Couldn't answer if you wanted to. Now let him down. Let him down. Okay. No, talk, Father, talk. Diamond, Diamond, get this maniac away from me. Well, ask me something simple like moving the Empire State Building. You better talk, Fender. I, I don't know what you want. You're all right. No, no, you're not. All right, all right. Now, why'd you kill Mike? He was, he was loading some of the bats. When one broke open and... Oh, the diamond spilled out. He wanted, he wanted a cut, big cut. So, so I had Cooley make the last trip with him. I was following in a hot car. That's it. Now let me go, will you? Kill a nice guy like that. He would have framed me. You're a liar. Now I'm gonna kill you. Toby, Toby. Toby grabbed Fender and I grabbed Toby. But it was like trying to put the brakes on a charging elephant. Toby hung on to Fender's throat and shook me loose. Fender was dying fast. And it looked like I couldn't do much about it until the door opened and some trouble sneaked in from left field, Cooley. Break it up, break it up. Cooley, Cooley, help me, help me. You better relax, Toby. That gun in Mr. Cooley's hand gives him the floor. He's the other one, ain't he, Mr. Dye? Cooley, Cooley, give it to him. Right in the middle. And then I heard the heavenly sound of flat feet. Cooley half turned for a moment, but it was enough for me to push Toby behind a couch and dive in after him. Quick, Cooley, let him have it. Cooley spun back around and tried his luck anyway, but missed. He and Fender made a rush to the window, but some of Walt's men were waiting for them. They tried to shoot it out. Cooley never got more than one foot over the window sill. Fender did better. But he was dead when he hit the ground. Rick, Rick, are you all right, Rick? If it wasn't, you'd never hear the end of it. Mr. Diamond, you don't really believe what that punk said about Mike, do you? Mike was a straight guy all his life. Toby, this clean-cut gentleman standing right next to me is Lieutenant Walter Levinson of Homicide. Right. What I tell him is official, so you listen. Look, Walt, Fender and Cooley were part of a fence setup. Bought stolen goods, sold them out west. The cross-state trucking company was just a blind. Well, that just about cleans it up, Toby. You see, Mike probably suspected something and they were afraid he'd go to the police. That's why they killed him. Sure, I knew it was that way. Thanks, Mr. Diamond. Well, I better get back to town. Ziggy's got me matched tonight. Good luck, Toby. Thanks. Say, Mr. Diamond, I'd sure like to have you and the lieutenant come watch me wrestle tonight. Thanks, Toby. Maybe some other time. It'll be a great show. Tonight's my turn to win. Yeah, well, we'll see. So long, Toby. So long. Um, Frank, that connection between Mike Burton and this racket didn't sound kosher. Was that for the record? Uh, no, Walt. But Toby will never see the record. Oh, Helen, honey, please. Cut that victrolo off, will you? Rick, you still didn't tell me if Mike was going to be on the show tonight. I don't know. I don't know. Maybe he was just trying to get me to the show tonight. Oh, no. I don't know. I don't know. Maybe he was just trying to get me to the show tonight. Oh, Helen, honey, please. Cut that victrolo off, will you? Rick, you still didn't tell me if Mike really intended to get mixed up with Fenner and Cooley. Well, he did. That's where he was getting the extra money he spoke about to Toby. Oh. Oh, excuse me. Rick, where are you going? I'm just going to shut this guy off. He's putting me to sleep. Oh, I suppose you could do better. Well, you think not? Honey, just sit down and listen to me. Fail hands I loved beside the shalimar. Where are you now? Now, tell me, honey, how do I rate alongside that suffering crooner on the record? That record happens to be an original release. The suffering crooner is Enrico Caruso. Oh, oh. Where does that come from? Oh, oh. Where does a guy go to slash his wrist? Dick Powell will be back in just a moment. And now once more, here's your Rexall family drug. No faster acting aspirin made. That's Rexall aspirin. Yes, when taken with water, the five full grains of pure aspirin contained in every Rexall aspirin tablet are ready to go to work for you, even before they reach your stomach. So next time you have a headache, remember Rexall aspirin. There's no faster acting aspirin made. Ask for Rexall aspirin at Rexall drug stores everywhere. And remember, you can depend on any drug product that bears the name Rexall. Good health to you all from Rexall. Ladies and gentlemen, for those who recognize it, the future is for sale. You can buy it now, today. You can buy it by saving. And there's no surer, more profitable means of saving than through the purchase of United States savings bonds. In the first place, United States savings bonds are safe, guaranteed for your country. Moreover, they put your saving dollars to work for you. For every three dollars invested today in Class E bonds, you'll receive four dollars back in just ten years when the bonds mature. So make sure of the years ahead with United States savings bonds. Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's script was written by Harold Jack Bloom and Joe Morhaime. Music was under the direction of Frank Worth. And this is Dick Powell asking you to listen in again next Wednesday at this same time when we do it all over again. Please listen in. I'm going to hit somebody on the head. Good night, everybody. You have just heard transcribed Richard Diamond, Private Detective, starring Dick Powell. This is Bill Foreman speaking. Music Hi, you beautiful. Get lost, bristle-puss. You need a shave. But I have shaved. What else do you want me to do? Silly boy, she wants you to go stag. Go stag? But why? Because stag is Rexall's exclusive line of men's good grooming aids. Like stag, brushless shave cream. No fuss, no massage, just smooth it on and presto. You get a clean, close shave. Your face stays smooth and whiskerless all day long. I'll do it, I'll do it. I'll go stag. That's it. Join the stag line now at Rexall Drug Stores everywhere. Yes. To make girls care. Go stag. Music Jack Waite tells stories of the underworld Friday on NBC. Music
