The makers of Camel Cigarettes present Dick Powell as Richard Diamond, Private Detective. Here's a question that was asked of 113,597 doctors in a nationwide survey a few years ago. What cigarette do you smoke, doctor? The brand named most was Camel. Again and again since then, a cross section of America's doctors has been asked that same question. And again and again, every time, the brand named most has been Camel. Yes, according to repeated surveys, more doctors smoke Camels than any other cigarette. Now we bring you another Transcribed Adventure with Richard Diamond, Private Detective starring Dick Powell. Mr. Diamond, our fee deductible on next year's income tax, Richard Diamond, Private Deduction speaking. I beg your pardon? Sorry, it's much too wordy to go over again. Yes, Mr. Diamond, this is Fred Lane speaking. You once did a job for a friend of mine. Well, if your friend wants his money back, tell him I've already spent it. Oh no, nothing like that. He recommended you. Well, wonders never cease. I'd like to hire you, Mr. Diamond. May I inquire as to your fee? You may, a hundred dollars a day in expenses. Oh, that is rather steep, but I think I can manage. Spoken like a true millionaire, Mr. Lane. I live at 1482 Riverside. Please get here as soon as possible. Well, I'm pretty busy, but I'll try to. I... Please do, Mr. Diamond. I'll have a check waiting for you. Hmm. Mr. Lane, go to your front door. I'm there. People who promise to have checks waiting are people for whom Diamond loves to work. I went downstairs, picked up my car, and drove to the address on Riverside. Rang the doorbell, the door opened. Then my blood pressure started doing push-ups. She was tall, blonde, and wore a dress that would have even been banned on television. You must be Mr. Diamond. Well, how can you tell? Don't other people know you? Come in, please. Fred's expecting you. Fred? Mr. Lane, my husband. Oh. This way, please. Fred's in the den. I do hope you'll be able to help us, Mr. Diamond. Well, so do I. Mrs. Lane, what seems to be the trouble? I'll let Fred explain to you. This whole business has got me rather upset. I... It's in here. Fred? Yes? Mr. Diamond's here. Oh, good. Come in, Diamond. Come in. I'll be upstairs, Fred. Of course, dear. Sit down, Mr. Diamond. Thank you. You got here in a hurry. You're certainly true to your word, sir. I owe it all to my boy scout training. Well, here's our promised check. Good, good. Now that we're both men of our word, let's make with some more word. Why do you want to hire me, Mr. Lane? It's about my wife, Mary. She's being blackmailed, Mr. Diamond. Oh, I see. It's been going on for a month now. Finally, last night she broke down and told me all about it. All about what, Mr. Lane? Why is she being blackmailed? She made a few mistakes before I met her. No reason to go into that now, but the blackmailer knows all about those mistakes. You speak as if you knew who the blackmailer was, Mr. Lane. I do. Perhaps I should clarify that a bit, however. I don't know the man personally, but Mary tells me he was a classmate of hers during her college years. She told me his name was Louis Dixon, that he was staying at the Brewster Hotel on 35th. I went there this morning to have it out with him. And? He checked out last night. Huh. Mr. Lane, I still don't see why you hired me. Now that your wife's told you about the blackmail, you could just report it to the police. Next time this Dixon guy calls, they'd nab him. I'm not interested in turning him over to the police, Mr. Diamond. I don't quite follow you. I'm only interested in seeing that he doesn't bother Mary anymore. When you locate Dixon, let me know. I intend to give him a thrashing he'll never forget. That's letting a blackmailer off pretty easy, Lane. Perhaps. But if we prosecute, well, publicity and all, I think Mary's gone through enough. Like I say, all I'm interested in is seeing that he doesn't bother her anymore. Call me about five and let me know what progress you made. Thank you, Mr. Diamond, and good luck. And that was that. Go find a blackmailer, Diamond, so your client can beat him up. Screw it. You bet. But the $100 check in my pocket made up for my own feelings on the case, and I set out to find one Louis Dixon blackmailer. Lane seemed to think Dixon would have a record, and if he was right, Lieutenant Walton Lemerson could give me a lead. It was almost noon when I parked in front of the 5th Precinct and walked into Walton's office. Well, oh, Ricky boy, pull up a chair. Just in time to watch me finish my lunch. Oh, you are so generous, Walter. No thanks. No thanks what? No thanks. I won't have a piece of your pie. What's wrong with this pie? My wife made it. That's what's wrong. You insinuating my wife's a bad cook? Of course not. She just bakes fattening pies. They're too doughy for me. How do you know it's too doughy before you taste it? You can tell by looking at it. That's ridiculous. Here, now let me cut this piece in two. There. Now try it. Oh, Walter. Go on, try it. Well... Yeah. Is it doughy? Not in the least. I guess that proves it. Wait a minute. Something wrong, Fatty? You've eaten my wife's pies at the house before. You never thought they were doughy. Doughy? Pour me some coffee, please, Lieutenant. You know, I should book you for swiddling. What do you want down here, anyway? Oh, just a little peek at your files. Who is it you're looking for this time? A guy by the name of Loris Dixon. Ever hear of him? Dixon? No, Ralph Dixon, a pickpocket. Herbie Dixon, a con man. Well, I can't place a Louis Dixon offhand. What's his racket? Blackmail lately. Oh, charming. Why haven't we been called in on the case? My client doesn't want publicity. Besides, he just wants to poke the guy in the snoot a few times and tell him he's been a bad boy. Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's right. Finish what's left of your pie while I go through the files. And, Walt... Yeah? Have your wife bake lemon meringue next time, huh? Oh. I checked the files. There was nothing on Louis Dixon. I thanked Walt, went to my car, and drove across town to a little bar called the Bats Cave. The Bats Cave was as dingy as the name implied, but I didn't go there for entertainment. I was looking for Rabbit Jones, a guy who knew more about the underworld than Rudolph Halley. Like most informers, Rabbit Jones was a mean whining character, and he didn't like me any more than I liked him. But he did like my money, and I liked his information. It was always a fair trade. I found him in the last booth, nursing a half-filled glass of beer. Ah, hello, Rabbit. Eh? Oh. Oh, now that's a cheerful greeting. You must have won a horse race today, or weren't you running? Big joke. Ha-ha. Beer. Oh, Rabbit, you spread sunshine wherever you go, don't you? Who asked you to sit down? Oh, damn it, I get sick of you private dicks. Go bother someone else. Oh, drop the small talk, Rabbit. I won't pay over the usual price, so don't make your information hard to yet. Maybe I got none to sell. Now, the day you stop selling information, I start knitting our guiles. Okay, okay. Who is it? Lewis Dixon. Where's the dough? You know I always pay. Well, this ain't my week for trusting people. Fork it over. Search yourself. There. Now, about Lewis Dixon. Eh, never heard of him. And I... let go of me. Don't get smart, Rabbit. I pay for talk, straight talk. Okay, okay, take your hands off of me. I'm there. Your rough boy's got to show your muscles, huh? Oh, shut up. You don't get my money unless you earn it, Rabbit, so start earning. Like I say, I never heard of a guy named Lewis Dixon. But you know, with my contacts, I can find out about him, so drop the rough stuff. How long will it take? That all depends. What's this Dixon guy's line? Blackmail. There's a chance he might have been mixed up in some other rackets the past few years. Eh, give me two hours. If he's been around lately, I'll find out. No, make it one hour. I'll meet you back here. Eh, okay. Hey, Diamond. Yeah? I wish I had more nerve. If I had more nerve, I'd slip a shiv in you some night. Oh, I wish you had more nerve, too, Rabbit. I'd enjoy beating you to pieces for trying it. On your way, punk. Rabbit shuffled out of the Bat's cave with a slow, heavy step, like a man reluctant to step out into the sunlight. I spent the next hour checking contacts of my own, then returned to the Bat's cave and waited for Rabbit. He came in a half an hour late, took the stool beside me, and ordered a beer before he turned to me. Oh, you picked some tough guys to get a line on, Diamond. Oh, I had a bad time. Stop singing the blues, Rabbit. Eh, and if the guy has worked the rackets, he's been quiet about it. I couldn't find one guy who knew him. You sure of that, Rabbit? Oh, sure, I'm sure. I did find a few guys who'd heard of him, though. Keep talking. Now, two different guys were at Squeaky Horner's floating crap game the other night. And they say a guy named Lewis Dixon was there. How did they know it was Dixon? We was flashing door-to-door, telling everyone with a big shot he was. But they don't know where he is now. Well, if they did, I'd tell you. Maybe Squeaky Horner knows he ran the game. Where's Squeaky now? When the game folds for a few days, Squeaky hangs out around the Penny Arcade at Third and Chestnut. I know the place. Well, then go and talk to him. And let me drink my beer in peace. I passed a few more insults with Rabbit as I paid a check, then drove to the Penny Arcade, Third and Chestnut. Squeaky Horner was hunched over a penball machine, and when he saw me, his eyes lit up like the tilt sign. Ricky Diamond, hey. How you been, Rick? Oh, not bad, Squeaky. You? Ah, great, great. Hey, look at that score. Got a nickel? Oh, sure, yeah. Thanks. What brings you down here, Ricky? I understand a guy named Lewis Dixon was at your game a few nights ago. Hey, Rick, there's a lot of boys drop in from time to time. It's hard to say Dixon. That's right. Yeah, I remember him. A blowhard. Every time he rolled a dice, he said, Lewis Dixon's the best crapshooter in town. Prove it, Dice. That's what he said. You ever seen him before, Squeaky? I see. No, he was a stranger. I got a good memory for faces. This boy I never seen before. Oh, great. Was he with anyone you might know? I'm afraid not, Ricky. Come alone or he left alone. Wish I could help you, though. Thanks anyway. Thank you for the nickel. Hey, look at that score go up. Squeaky's score was running very high, but mine was still zero. So far, not one definite lead as to the whereabouts of Lewis Dixon. I spent another half hour combing the known informers, but to no avail. A little after five, I went to a phone booth and called my client, Fred Lane. Hello. Mr. Lane? Who's this? Richard Diamond. It's Walt, Rick. Walt, what are you doing there? Can't you guess? Oh, no. Uh-huh. Fred Lane, your client, Rick? Yeah. Better get over here right away. You are now unemployed. Lane? That's right. Let it. Before we continue with Richard Diamond, here is an important question. How mild, how mild, how mild, how mild can a cigarette be? How mild can a cigarette be? Here's a good way to find out. Make the 30-day camel mildness test. How mild can a cigarette be? How mild can a cigarette be? Here's a good way to find out. Make the 30-day camel mildness test a sensible test based on steady smoking. Smoke only camels for the next 30 days and compare them in your T-zone. T for throat, T for taste. See how much you enjoy camel's rich, full flavor pack after pack as your steady smoke. See how well camels agree with your throat week after week as your steady smoke. You'll soon see why. Camel is America's most popular cigarette by billions of cigarettes per year. Yes, and you'll soon be a steady 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. Fred Lane's body lay on the floor of his den. There was a letter opener lying beside the body and it fit the hole in his back. Tomorrow morning's paper would carry Fred Lane's obituary. It would tell where he was born, what he did with his life, and when he died. But it wouldn't tell who killed him. And that's what I wanted to find out. Looks like you really put up a fight, Eric. Yeah, the room's torn up a lot. Who did it, Walt? Louis Dixon, the guy you've been out looking for. Do you have him? Uh-uh. Mrs. Lane gave us the information. Seems Dixon came into the house about two hours ago. He wanted more dough for Mrs. Lane. Pretty nervy to come right here. Yeah. I guess she figured Lane might be out. Anyway, Mrs. Lane called her husband, Fred came in, invited Dixon to the den for a talk, and sent Mrs. Lane upstairs. Ah, well, that fits. Lane starts beating up Dixon, and Dixon grabs a letter opener and kills Lane. Huh? Sweet figures. Mrs. Lane said she heard the struggle, but her husband had told her to stay in her room, and then she heard Dixon run out, so she came down and found the body and called us. Did you get the prints off the letter opener? No. Mrs. Lane said Dixon was wearing a pair of gloves when he came in. Chet said he never took them off. Oh, that's great. Well, Patty, I hope you have more luck picking up Dixon than I had. Nobody around town seems to know him. Well, Mrs. Lane gave us a good description. I put out an APB. How about you? You still on the case? I was about to give it up when I phoned, but I can keep going as long as my legs hold up. Good. I'd like to nab the Dixon guy as quick as possible. Me too, Walt. I don't like people to go around killing my clients. Just isn't good for business. The boys were taking a body down to the morgue as I left. It looked like a hard day for my shoe leather. The only thing I could do was keep pounding the pavement in search of someone who knew or had known Louis Dixon. Cigarette stands, boogie joints, cheap boarding houses, nothing. Down to the Bowery. Missions, small bars, guys on the corners. Louis Dixon? Yeah, I'd never heard of him. And so it went. I headed back to my office in the comfort that comes when you sit in a chair with your feet on the desk. But when I reached the entrance of the office building, Squeaky Horner was standing there waiting for me. Hey, Ricky, where you been? I've been waiting here a long time, almost an hour. Oh, what's on your mind, Squeaky? You still looking for Louis Dixon? That's a silly question. Why? Because I seen him about an hour and a half ago. Are you sure? Sure, I'm sure. I got a good memory for faces. After I leave the arcade, I'm walking up third and I see him. Biggest life. Where is he now? I tell him, see? He goes into Henry's Flop House. He's staying in one of Henry's rooms. Not in a hall like most of the guys. He's under another name. What name, Squeaky? Jack Lighton. You're one I should take you to the place, Ricky? Yeah, Squeaky. I want this, you should. Here's the room, Ricky. You want I should knock? Never mind. What? Just hold it right there, Layton. Or is it Dixon? What are you talking about? What's the idea of busting in here like this? What about it, Squeaky? Is he the guy? No doubt about it, Ricky. He's the same guy who was at the game a few nights ago. What game are you talking about? I never seen you before in my life. All right, Squeaky. I can take it from here. Thanks a lot. Anytime, Ricky. Hey. Hey, what gives anyway, bud? Suppose you tell me, Dixon. Why do you keep calling me Dixon? The name's Jack Layton. Well, we'll see about that. There's one person who should be able to identify you for sure. Fred Layton's widow. Get your hat, pal. Well, it looked like the end of a hard day. I forced Layton, or Dixon, outside and into my car, then we drove to the Layne house on Riverside. The police had left and Mrs. Layne was alone. I took my man inside and Mrs. Layne looked at him closely. I knew it would be just like the movies. She'd point and say, that's him. That's the man, Mr. Diamond. I'm sorry, Mr. Diamond. What? I've never seen this man before in my life. This, dear children, is the story of why a detective gets ulcers. But as I was driving Layton back toward town, I began thinking. Squeaky Horner had never been wrong about a man before. And why had Dixon been so hard to locate? I hadn't been able to turn up one man who knew him. So instead of driving Layton back to his room, I drove to the Brewster Hotel, where Layne said Dixon had been registered for a week. There it was a different story. The desk clerk positively identified Jack Layton as the man who had registered as Louis Dixon. At last, things began to shape up. Why did you bring me here to your office? I want to get back to my room. You heard what the desk clerk said. You registered as Louis Dixon. Why? That desk clerk was loony. He made a mistake. You heard what Mrs. Layne said. She never saw me before. So she said. But I think differently, Layton. Up here all alone, we can have a nice little chat. You're going to tell me all about it. I'm not going to tell you anything. I'm going to tell you everything. Then I'll open the conversation. That was the first sentence, Layton. Now, do I start on a paragraph or will you talk instead? I don't know what to say. Okay, stupid. We'll do it the hard way. Yes? Oh, Mr. Diamond. Hello, Mrs. Layne. Mind if I come in? Of course not. Please do. Suppose we go into the den. I'd like to have a little talk with you, Mrs. Layne. I'm sorry. I'm not feeling too well, Mr. Diamond. The shock and all that. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. The shock and all. Oh, yes, yes, of course. It must have been trying, my... bringing that Layton man here for you to identify. Well, yes, it was. If you could come back tomorrow, perhaps... Oh, I... I'm afraid not, honey. Now. Very well. I'm sorry you picked up the wrong man, Mr. Diamond. Oh, sure, yes. No, it's funny. Two other people swore he was the man known as Louis Dixon. Well, it's hard to identify someone accurately, I imagine. But I was certain he wasn't Dixon. Mm-hmm. Well, well, you've tidied up the den quite a bit. Just what is it you wanted to talk to me about, Mr. Diamond? Oh, there's no hurry, no hurry. Say, this is a handsome room. Nice house, too. And all yours, along with everything else your husband owned. That's rather a cruel thing to say. Oh, come off it, Mary. It was a wild scheme. What do you mean? I mean that you invented a phony character, a Louis Dixon, and set up a murder with every clue pointing to a man who never existed. You're crazy. No, no, Mary. You were crazy to think a stunt like this would ever work. You hired a bum named Jack Layton, gave him money, had him register at the Brewster Hotel as Louis Dixon. Then you had him hit some of the gambling joints and make sure people heard his name as Louis Dixon. Then he was to disappear. I won't stay here and be insulted. No? Soon I'll take you down to headquarters. You can be insulted there. I hope you have proof, Mr. Diamond. You'll need it. Well, Layton was reluctant at first, but let's say I persuaded him to talk. I dropped him by the 5th Precinct on my way over here. How much do you make as a private detective, Mr. Diamond? Oh, Mary, Mary, don't talk like that. First chance you got, you'd stick a knife in my back, too. It was just a suggestion. After all... No, no. Drop it. Drop it now. Wow, wow. First a letter opener on your husband, and now you try to bean me with a paperweight. Honey, you're just not safe around a desk, are you? Rick? Yes, Helen dear? I've been thinking... Show off? No, really. I think you should put your business on a more dignified level. You don't say. You should try and attract a higher-type clientele. Oh, I don't know. This lame fellow I work for today was no slouch. But what happened to him? He got killed. That's a trouble with your cases. They're too dangerous. If you don't get into trouble, your clients do. True, true. You should concentrate on more simple cases for wealthy clients like divorce cases and inheritance claims. Oh, great. Maybe I should even carry a pottery puff in my shoulder holster. All right, so it wouldn't be as exciting. Get the same fee and you wouldn't get so many black eyes. But I couldn't come here to you for sympathy, dear. Rick, I'm serious. Okay, honey, okay. Just... Now tell me, just how do I go about attracting a higher-type clientele, as you put it? Well, you start off by putting on a more pretentious front. Meaning I eat more? Meaning you act a little more dignified. Well, do go on, Miss Asher. You should also have someone at the office to answer the phone for you. Oh, Helen, it only rings once or twice a day. I think I have enough strength to pick up the receiver that often. Well, strictly for appearances. Oh, oh, I see. Anyone in mind for the job? Well, I have a lot of free time. Well, fine, dear, fine. I'm glad it's free. I should be able to afford that. And then after we build up the business, we... Rick, are you listening? Oh, sure, sure, baby, sure. You are not. You're just waiting for me to take a pause so you can sneak in a song. Oh, honey, how can you be so suspicious? But since you did bring up the matter... I should have known better. Oh, live and learn, dear, live and learn. Ask me, I could write a book About the way you walk and whisper and look I could write a preface on how we met Though the world would never forget And the simple secret of the plot Is just to tell them that I love you a lot Then the world discovers as my book ends How to make true lovers of friends Then the world discovers as my book ends How to make true lovers of friends Oh, very nice. Well, thank you, sweet. Only now let's get back to your business. Oh, who wants to talk about business? Now, Rick, stop it. Rick, I wanted to... Oh, Rick. Now, now then. You were saying I shouldn't get on a more dignified level. I was? Oh, that's what I like. A gal with a one-track mind. Dick Powell will return in just a moment. What's America's most popular cigarette? Camel is in the lead by billions of cigarettes per year. One reason is that America's smokers have found out how rich, how flavorful camels are, pack after pack. Another reason is that America's smokers have discovered how well camels agree with their throats week after week. Are you smoking the cigarette America enjoys most? If not, start smoking mild, flavorful camels tonight. How mild, how mild, how mild can a cigarette be? Make the Camel 30-day test and you'll see Smoked camels in sea Here's Dick Powell with a special message. Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, as a token of friendship and to help show hospitalized veterans and service personnel that America remembers them, the makers of camels send thousands of packs of camels to service and veterans' hospitals every week. This week, the gift camels are going to Veterans' Hospitals Minneapolis, Minnesota and Bay Pines, Florida, U.S. Naval Hospital Memphis, Tennessee, to all hospitals operated by the Alaskan Air Command. Now until next week, enjoy camels. I always do. Tonight's adventure of Richard Diamond was written by Dick Carr with music by Frank Worth. Virginia Gregg was heard as Helen Asher and Alan Reed as Lieutenant Walt Levinson. Others in the cast were Benny Rubin, Mary Jane Croft, Howard McNear and Peter Leeds. Richard Diamond Private Detective is transcribed in Hollywood by Jaime Del Valle. Be sure to listen to another Great Camel Show, Vaughan Monroe and the Camel Caravan, every Saturday night. Listen next week for another exciting adventure of Richard Diamond starring Dick Powell. Now stay tuned for This Is Your FBI, followed immediately by Ozzie and Harriet over most of these stations.
