The makers of Camel Cigarettes present Dick Powell as Richard Diamond, private detective. More people smoke camels than any other cigarette. Yes, camels are the favorite cigarette of people in all walks of life. Among them are singing stars, actors, announcers, people whose voices are their fortunes, people whose cigarette must be mild. Make the Camel 30-day test and see how mild a cigarette can be. Puff after puff, pack after pack. See why more people smoke camels than any other cigarette. Here transcribed is Richard Diamond, private detective starring Dick Powell. Diamond Detective Agency, we make homicide pay for a hundred a day. Oh, that's pretty terrible. You should catch me on a bad day. Nothing. Am I going to see you tonight? Not if you keep turning out the lights. Who turns out the lights? Well, what difference does it make? It's fun. I'll expect you at eight and you'll be here. Honey, honey, of course. How's business? Oh, about as dull as 50 miles of dirt road. We'll have dinner home. Bless your little pointed head. And your empty pocket book. Uh-oh. What? Mr. Diamond? Yes, sir. Come right in, will you? Pull up an old bank book and have a seat. Thank you. Client? Well, keep a good thought, honey. You may be gorging yourself at 21. Bye. Bye. I'd like to hire you, Mr. Diamond. I'd love every minute of it. I charge a hundred a day in expenses. All right. He reached for his wallet. While he was counting his money, I was looking at him. This was the biggest man I'd ever seen. I was getting a nosebleed just trying to see her with a second button on his vest. He had a pair of shoulders that looked like the mayor should lay a cornerstone for them. And the muscles under his coat stood out like smuggled shot puts. My name is Collins. I'm B.E. Rollins, private secretary. Oh, is that the B.E. Rollins? Yes. He's a very wealthy man. Well, there's an understatement. He wants to retain you to find his brother, Martin. He does, huh? Would you mind coming with me? Mr. Rollins would like to see you in person. Well, tell me a little more about Rollins' brother. I'd rather let Mr. Rollins do that himself. I'd rather hear some of it from you first. I don't want to see Rollins if I'm going to turn down the job. Very well. Mr. Rollins' brother Martin was released from prison five days ago. Mm-hmm. Yesterday, he sent a letter threatening Mr. Rollins' life. Oh, and your boss wants me to find his brother before he makes good the threat. Is that it? That's it, exactly. Well, why doesn't he call the police? Show them the letter and get the protection he needs. It'll certainly be a lot cheaper than hiring me. Mr. Rollins doesn't want any more bad publicity. There was enough of it when Martin was sent to prison. And why did Martin get sent to prison? He embezzled $100,000 from the company funds. Did Rollins try to save him? He was guilty. Mr. Rollins prosecuted him to the full extent of the law. Was the money ever recovered? No. Goodbye, Mr. Collins. You won't take the job? Oh, now you've guessed. But why? Mr. Rollins is prepared to pay you handsomely. Well, I don't doubt it at all, but it's too pat. Martin's killing Matt because his brother sent him to prison. Rollins receives a threatening letter but won't call in the police. Yet he wants Martin found. Why? I told you, he doesn't want any more bad publicity. So I take the job and maybe find Martin. Then B.E. Rollins is a potential killer in the house. What's he gonna do? Try and keep his mind off of things by letting him shrink heads in the basement? Remember, Mr. Diamond, they are still brothers. So are Kane and Abel. You mean you think Mr. Rollins intends to kill his brother and that's why he wants you to find him? Well, that's a little crude, but it's certainly a possibility. That's utterly absurd. Maybe so, but no one would blame him. You better try Hearthstone or the Death Squad. Now you're being ridiculous. Mr. Rollins is a highly respectable businessman. His reputation is spotless. Well, then this looks like too good a time for him to start getting dirty. Goodbye, Mr. Collins. He got up, started to say something, which changed his mind. He turned and walked to the door, ducking his head as he went out. Someday he was going to forget the duck and take the whole wall along with him. Ten minutes later I got a phone call. Yeah? Is a man named Collins in your office? He was, he just left. Did you take the job? Who's this? If you didn't take the job, you're fortunate. If you did, you'd better catch up on your insurance payments. Oh, you think so, huh? I think so. This is a family matter, so leave it that way or you're liable to get yourself killed. Look, would the Sherlock and Me show if I deduced your name was Martin Rollins? Hello? Hello? When I brush Collins out of my office with a quick no, I wouldn't have taken the job he'd offered me for a share in Manhattan Island. But when somebody starts threatening me, it's like telling a five-year-old kid to stay away from the cookie jar. The quickest way to get me to do something is to tell me not to and try pushing me around. I looked up the Rollins address, and in 20 minutes my cab pulled up in front of a big old English house that looked like the summer training camp for the U.S. Mint. Yes? Why, Mr. Diamond? Tell Mr. Rollins I want to see him, will you? Come in. I'm happy you've changed your mind. Just tell him I want to see him. He's in the garden. This way, please. We went through the big house and out through the glass doors into the garden. B.E. Rollins was sitting in a chair feeding the birds. He was reaching his late 60s with the sour look of a man who didn't want to. As he threw the breadcrumbs out on the gravel walk, a big diamond on his little finger flashed in the afternoon sun. Mr. Rollins? Oh, Colin. Who's that with you? The detective you sent for, Mr. Rollins? Oh, yes, yes. Pull up that chair and sit down, young man. Oh, thank you. Just feeding the birds. Here, birdie, birdie. Been doing it for some time. Oh, swell. Well, what are you standing around for, Collins? I want to talk to this detective in private. Yes, sir. If you need me, I'll be in the library. I won't need you. Here, you feed the birds for a while. Makes you feel good. Oh, sure. Hey, birdie. Birdie? That's fine. That's fine. What's your name, young man? Diamond, Richard Diamond. Oh, hey, get a load of that little fella. He's grabbing enough crumbs to stuff a pheasant. He's the greedy one. Always does that. Reminds me of some people I know. Yes. Well, Mr. Diamond, I suppose Collins told you why I wanted to see you. Yeah, and I can't say I wanted the job at first. So, Collins tells me, what changed your mind? A phone call. I think it was from your brother, Martin. He told me not to work for you. And you don't like being intimidated. Good. I think we'll get along, young man. Tell me, have you got the letter he sent you? I have it right here. Read it. I'll take over with the birds for a while. All right, thanks, sir. My dear brother, I spent five years hating you, but I learned a trade. I used it drawing blueprints for your shroud. Signed Martin. Now, this will never get the Pulitzer Prize. Martin always did go in for the dramatic. Well, do you think you can find him? Was this the first you've heard from him since he went to prison? Yes. I will admit the letter has me worried. Aside from the dramatic, Martin has always been a hearthead. Since boyhood, he's envied my get up and go. We never got along. It was even too much for my mother. She died very young. Probably overworked from knitting straight jackets. Don't be flippin', young man. Well, will you take the job? A hundred dollars a day in all hospital expenses. Fine, fine. See Collins. He'll take care of the fee. Now, tell me one more thing. Can you think of anyone who might know where your brother is? Only one, and I'm not sure if she's even still in New York. She was going with Martin when he was caught. I only met her once, but I will say, if nothing else, my brother showed good taste. Yes, indeed. That's nice. What was her name? Carter. Virginia Carter. Lived someplace in the village, I think, but that was five years ago. All right, thank you. Now, what about your secretary, Collins? Can you trust him? Collins is above reproach. He's been with me for 15 years. Knows everything about me. Almost a member of the family. Does he know anything more about Martin? No more than I do. Now I'm getting tired, and I want to finish feeding my birds. Good day, young man. Here, birdie. Birdie! I left the old man sitting with his friends. He'd have one good deed to take along with him anyway. I went back through the glass doors, and a butler showed me the way to the library. But the cupboard was bare. Collins wasn't around. Collins! Collins! The shot had come from the direction of the garden, and I went back out in a hurry. Mr. Diamond! Mr. Diamond, over here! What's wrong, Collins? It's Mr. Rollins. He's dead. B.E. Rollins was sitting in the chair with a bullet hole just over the heart. His head was resting on his chest, and he still held the breadcrumbs in his hand. He seemed to be smiling like he knew he was going to be able to feed the birds for a long time now. Martin did it! He did? I saw the whole thing. I thought you were supposed to be in the library. I started out of the library and came around the other way. As I rounded the corner of the house, I saw Martin standing behind that tree. I started to yell, but he fired and climbed over the wall. Mr. Rollins was dead when I reached him. Let's call homicide. Before we continue with Richard Diamond, private detective, here are a few words about smoking in joint-mortgage. Not one single case of throat irritation due to smoking camels. That's what noted throat specialists reported in a coast-to-coast test of hundreds of people who smoked only camels for 30 days. That's how mild camels are. Make your own 30-day camel mildness test. Smoke only camels for 30 days and enjoy the rich, full flavor of camels, costly tobaccos. And see for yourself how mild camels are pack after pack. See how well camels get along with your throat week after week. Yes, that's the sensible test of cigarette mildness. For only by steady smoking can you judge the day-in, day-out mildness of a cigarette. Start your own camel 30-day test today and see how mild, how flavorful, how thoroughly enjoyable a cigarette can be. You'll find out why people smoke a lot. Once a camel smoker, always a camel smoker. How mild, how mild, how mild, how mild can a cigarette be? Make the camel 30-day test and you'll see. Smoke camels and see. And now back to Richard Diamond, Private Detective, starring Dick Powell. Private Detective, starring Dick Powell. Hello, Rick. Hi, Walt. Well, the great Private Detective. What do you want the police force to do for you now? Get rid of one of their stupid sergeants. Now, I don't like them. Oh, it is? Okay. Okay, yeah. This is Mr. Collins, Walt. Lieutenant Levenson, Mr. Collins. Hello, Mr. Collins. How do you do, Lieutenant? The body's in the garden. B. Rollins, huh? Yeah, big time. Rollins Investments. That's right, Lieutenant. Any idea who killed him? Mr. Collins here says it was Rollins' brother. That's right, Lieutenant. I saw Martin shoot Mr. Rollins. There he is. Gee, on such a nice day, too. Isn't Otis a dream? Oh, such a one. Well, right over the heart. Otis, you go... What are you doing, Rick? It was a letter from his brother. A letter? Sure, I read it myself. Holy eik, it's gone. We searched the whole garden for the incriminating letter and came up with a big fat zero. Then I remembered something that the old man had told me about Martin. Something about a girl named Virginia Carter. I questioned Collins, but he didn't know her. So I put the old mind to work and became my usual shrewd self. I went back in the library, grabbed a phone book and found the only Virginia Carter listed. It was a while, long shot. But I grabbed a cab and 40 minutes later, I was standing in front of a door. When she opened it, I got the quickest scalding in history. Hello. Oh, I bet you have a hard time finding something to wear in July. You like it? It's French silk. Love it, love it. What's on your mind? Uh, uh, Virginia Carter? Mm-hmm. Now, if you'll stop painting long enough, maybe you'd like to tell me what you want. Well, I'd like to know about Martin Rollins. Oh, I have not seen him in years. Maybe you've got a picture of him? I've got lots of pictures. Mm-hmm. Maybe there is one of Martin someplace. Well, let's look through the whole flock. I've got lots of time. Before I let you in, you'd better tell me your name. I don't want you to steal anything from me. Maybe if anybody stole something from you, they'd get their fingers burned off the elbows. Mm-hmm, you can come in. She opened the door and walked ahead of me like she'd just oiled her sacrilege. She led me into the living room and sat down. The shades were drawn. I had a hard time finding the couch. Right here. Oh, wow. Well, how do we look at the pictures with the magic lantern? I thought maybe you wanted to relax for a minute. Well, put something in a glass. I'll cool down. I don't drink. I never keep this stuff around. Well, that doesn't leave you much of a field. Oh, what do you major in? Cigarettes. Have a camera? Oh, yes, any time. I haven't got a match. Well, just hold on to it. It'll light up. I think I'd better get the pictures. I'll be right back. Just make yourself comfortable. Mm-hmm. Hup-de-doo, hup-de-doo. Bada-de-doo-da-de-de-de-de. Hup-de-doo, hup-de-doo. Bada-de-doo... We can start with this. If Martin isn't in this pile, I've got lots more. You're not in a hurry, are you? No, not a bit. Good. This might run into overtime. There was one trouble with the setup. Looking at the pictures with her sitting close was like trying to read a mail-order catalog in front of a blast furnace. She handed me one picture at a time describing each guy in the photographs. I've seen draft boards with smaller clientels. Several times she stopped and looked at one of the pictures like Diamond Jim eyeing a 10-course meal, then passed the guy to me. I was so happy to see her. I was so happy to see her. After two dozen photographs, I started thinking she was the reason for the rise in the vitamin market. I was just going to mention an old snapshot I had of myself when she thumped one of the collection with a polished fingernail. Martin Rawlins, here he is. He figured he'd show up sooner or later. How long ago was this taken? I could not say exactly, but I'd guess about six years. You should keep a file. How'd you get along with Martin? He had money and he showed me a good time. What else do you know about him? He has a brother with a checking account at Fort Knox. Any unusual habits? Yes, but they wouldn't help you find him. Oh, yes, he used to play a saxophone. A hobby? No, not exactly. He played around town with several other small bands. He was a nut on jazz. Did he make money at it? I guess so. Thanks, baby. I'll stop around again sometime and take a look at your parlor. I'll spin a nice, soft web. Mind if I take Martin with me? Not if you bring back a picture of yourself. Maybe I'll just bring my camera. You can take it. Good. That's why I keep the room so dark. I like to develop things. I hated to leave, but my hair was on fire. She'd given me one lead. Martin was a musician of a sort and sometimes he made money at it. I started to cross the street to catch another cab and I was halfway there when I heard the car. That was an old trick. You drive by fast, open your door and if anyone is in the way, he winds up with a face full of automobile. I picked myself up and thought about chasing him, but he was so far down the street I couldn't even get the license number. I grabbed a bug-eyed cabbie and had him take me to local 802 of the musician's union. I went in and a little short guy with a twitch looked up at me from behind a big desk. Something I can do for you, Pop? Bad twitch. Yeah, too much bop. Tell me, do you know a Martin Rollins who plays the sax? Has he got a card? He makes money. Then if he ain't, better have. I'll see if he does, will you? I'm an old friend. I like getting in touch with him. You look like a cop. And I've got a shiny little badge. Oh, wait a minute. I'll see what I can find. Cop, huh? Now look what you've done. You got me twitching more than ever. Between twitches, he found what I was looking for. Martin had just renewed his card. It didn't show a home address, but his mail was being sent to one of the swing joints on 52nd Street. I said thanks and left him in the middle of another twitch. I walked out on the sidewalk, looked at the long gray shadows stretching out from the tall buildings. One of them moved and ducked around a corner. I was being followed. Hey, fingers. Can I bother you for a minute? No, but you can talk to me. Move in. Lean on the piano. You know a Martin Rollins? Sure. He blows here. Which one is he? He's off tonight. Got a phone call and took off. You know where he lives? Yeah. Well, here's five. Come down and remember the address. What do you want him for? Here's another five. What difference does it make? Solid. It's got a little pad on 5th Street, 59 East. Now, don't put me on, Dad. You got troubles? I'm gonna ask him. Crazy. I like his style. And when you got time, drop back and listen to the band. I don't think I could stand the altitude. Crazy guy. I went out fast, and ten minutes later, I was standing in front of Martin Rollins' apartment. I tried my knuckles and waited. I tried again and put my ear to the door. I didn't hear it at first because it was so faint. A light scraping sound like rope over wood. I tried the door. I had been right on both counts. It was a rope, and it was rubbing on wood. Brother Martin was making the sound effects, but he was doing it the hard way. He was on the other end of the rope, hanging by his neck. He was turning slowly like a weathervane in a soft breeze. The chair was tipped over at his feet, so I picked it up and sat down to think. I started to get up when something in my stomach jumped up and kicked my mind at the high gear. I looked up at the dead man, and what I saw through the suicide theory right out of the window. Sitting in the chair, my head was just on a level with his shoe tops. If he had used the chair to stand on, he would have still needed a ladder just to tie the rope to a beam. I've seen a couple of guys who hanged themselves, but never one who jumped on the ladder. I shoved the chair under him just to make sure. He cleared it by a good foot. I started to think of all the people who had been connected with the case, and the phone rang. I knew Martin would have trouble answering, so I helped him out. Hello? Hello, Martin. Well, he's tied up right now. Who is this? Well, hello, honey. Still collecting pictures? Oh. Oh, hello. Hello, Martin. Hello, honey. Still collecting pictures? Oh. Hello? Hello? Hmm. Antisocial. Well, Mr. Diamond, did you bring your camera? We'll play Spend the Bottle some other time. How did you know my name? You gave it to me this afternoon. You're a bad liar, baby, and look out. I'm coming in. Wait a minute. I'm expecting someone. Well, if it's who I think it is, you better hide all the rope in the house. Now, move it out of the way. You heard from Collins yet? I don't know what you're talking about. Now, get out of here. Collins, Rollins' secretary, just killed Martin Rollins. He stretched his neck out so far, he started looking like an ad in National Geographic. What? Yes. He strangled him first, then stood on the chair and hung the body to a rafter. And then Rollins did it. Because he figured he's a foot taller than most guys. He gave Martin a boost, left him hanging too high. What's that got to do with me? Well, I think Collins knew I'd come to you. I think he promised you the moon if you fingered Martin Rollins. He wanted to get Martin, but he wanted someone else to do it for him. He knew old man Rollins would remember you and tell me. You're crazy. Oh, well, we'll see. How much did Collins promise you? He didn't promise me a thing. You don't think he's gonna let you go on breathing when he finds out the law is after him? He's the only hole in his story. Wait a minute. He just left Martin waiting for oxygen. He's probably on his way here right now. He didn't say anything about killing Martin. I want to get out of this mess. Now that's better. Tell me everything you can. Well, he met me about three months ago at a party. We started to see each other. One day he told me he was in some kind of trouble and asked me to help, and I said I would. He told me that he had been in a deal with Martin and that Martin had gone to prison for it. So Martin had come back and wanted his share, is that it? Yes. He promised me 50... Oh, no! It all happened in the time it takes you to change your mind. He must have come in through the kitchen and started shooting. She went down like a diver with a Benz and died on her face. He was trying for me when I jumped to one side and knocked over the only light burning in the room. He came close, but the flash of his gun gave me his position, and I threw enough lead to start a pipeline. He stumbled back into the kitchen, but he was dragging it. I heard him drop, and I moved in after him. The moonlight slanted down through one of the windows and splashed out on the hard floor. He was lying in it, on his back, like he wanted to get that far anyway. Don't try again, Collins. I still feel like shooting. Forget it. No reason to kill you now. Before you close your eyes, tell me something. Better make it quick. Why didn't you go out and get Martin Rollins yourself? Why hire me to find him? I didn't want anyone to know I was looking. You were the alibi with Rollins dead and Martin a suicide. You'd swear Martin killed the old man. Because Rollins showed me the letter? You forged it? Yes, I shot Rollins and took the letter. And you planted that phony call to my office? Yes. You nearly got away with it, Collins. You just forgot how tall you were when you hanged Martin. I thought sure Martin was the one who was trying to run me down. I'm a rotten driver. How bad is it? Must have been a good cop. Hey, caught all three? It should be raining out. Too nice a night to die. Not a cloud in the sky. Must be nice to look at. No, no, no. Keep standing up. You'll never see it from down here. Dick Powell will return in just a minute. What cigarette do you smoke, doctor? That question was asked of doctors in every branch of medicine. Doctors in all parts of the country. What cigarette do you smoke, doctor? The brand named most was Camel. Yes, according to this recent nationwide survey, more doctors smoke Camels than any other cigarette. Camels' costly tobaccos are properly aged and expertly blended for your smoking enjoyment. Make the sensible cigarette test. Not just a puff, not just a sniff. Smoke Camels for 30 days and see how mild, how flavorful, how enjoyable a cigarette can be. How mild, how mild, how mild, how mild can a cigarette be? Make the Camel 30-day test and you'll see. Smoke Camels and see. Here's Dick Powell with a special message. Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, as a tribute to the men and women who have served our country, the makers of Camel cigarettes send gift cigarettes each week to hospitalized servicemen and veterans. This week the Camels go to veterans' hospitals Fayetteville, North Carolina and Des Moines, Iowa, U.S. Air Force Hospital, Bowling Air Force Base, Washington, D.C., U.S. Naval Hospital, Memphis, Tennessee. Now until next week, enjoy Camels. I always do. Music Tonight's Adventure of Richard Diamond starring Dick Powell was written by Blake Edwards, our director as Helen Mack. Featured in tonight's cast were Virginia Gregg as Virginia and Ted Osborne as Rawlins. Tom Tully was Collins, Arthur Q. Bryan as Lieutenant Levinson, and Wilms Herbert Otis. Men, pack your pipes with Prince Albert. The rich flavor and natural fragrance will tell you why P.A. is America's largest selling smoking tobacco. Prince Albert's choice tobacco is specially treated to ensure against tongue bite, and it's crimped cut to smoke cool and even. Yet, Prince Albert, it's the national joy smoke. Listen next week for another exciting transcribed adventure of Richard Diamond starring Dick Powell. This is your FBI. The official broadcast from the files of the FBI follows immediately. Stay tuned. This program came to you from Hollywood. This is the American Broadcasting Company.
