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 Bill Foreman speaking to you for the 10,000 independent drugists who have made the word Rexall part of their own store names. They've done that because they recommend and sell the 2,000 or more drug products made by the Rexall Drug Company. This evening we want to call your particular attention to Rexall's sensational two-page ad in this week's issues of life, look, colliers, the Saturday Evening Post and in the Farm Journal. One page of this important two-page spread announces ten great new products from the world-famous Rexall Laboratories. The other page features ten bedrock bargains available at Rexall drugstores all during the month of June. For new and better health aids, for bigger and more useful bargains, be sure to check Rexall's eye-opening two-page ad in this coming week's issues of life, look, colliers, the Saturday Evening Post and in the Farm Journal. Good health to all from Rexall. Now your Rexall family drugist brings you a transcribed half hour with Richard Diamond Private Detective starring Dick Powell. Diamond Detective Agency, I was curious, I tasted it, I'm dying. You sound awful. Oh, if I had the energy I'd throw my head out of the window. Hangover? Just worn out from getting my heart started, Lieutenant Levinson. Mr. Levinson. What do you mean? As of five minutes ago I became just plain Mr. Levinson. Oh, think what a shock that's gonna be to just plain Bill. At exactly three o'clock I started on my two weeks vacation. I am going fishing. I want to get lost in the woods somewhere. Pack in, do my own cooking, catch myself a limit of nice fat steelheads and rainbows. Oh, I know, the smell of fried trout and boiling coffee. Getting up the next morning, breathing that fresh mountain air, and then realizing that you forgot to put out the fire and 20,000 acres have been burned flat. That was pretty mean. I'll go on, get next to nature. Too bad you have to stay in town and work. I hope you get scurvy. Bye blue eyes. No. Mr. Diamond? Yeah. My name is Holland, Mr. Diamond. Arthur Holland. Well, sit down Mr. Holland. What can I do for you? First come over to this window. Any particular reason or do you plan on an accidental suicide? There should be a man standing across the street. He's been following me. What does this man look like? Crew cut, short, fat, wearing a black leather jacket. There he is. In front of the cigar store? Yes. Who is he? I have no idea. I've never seen him before. Know why he might be following you? No. How long has he been following you? Since this morning. Okay. Why don't you come to see me for? My brother's name is William. William B. Holland. A long time ago he left the family and started out to see the world. Started working his way from place to place. Although William has been gone for nearly 10 years, not once in those 10 years have I failed to receive a weekly letter. But he hasn't written lately. Not for a month. Where was the last place he wrote you from? San Borja, Bolivia. Never heard of it. It's a small city in the interior. While in the past he wrote me that he'd met a man named Louis Frober. This Frober was from San Borja and according to Will, practically ran the place. Will said he was going to visit him and in his last two letters he talked much of Frober in his hospitality, but said that something was wrong in this town of San Borja. Didn't say what it was? Didn't know. Then his letters stopped. Yes. And you want me to find out why they stopped, if anything's happened to your brother. Mr. Diamond, I'm quite wealthy and I will pay you handsomely to take the job. Besides it might turn into a nice vacation. South America is supposed to be wonderful this time of year. Vacation? Possibly. Well, Mr. Holland, I'll take the job on two conditions. What are they? Well, first my fee, 100 a day in expenses. Accepted. Thank you. Second, that you purchase two tickets for San Borja, Bolivia. Two tickets? Well, I'd like to take my assistant along. Bolivia is new territory for me and it might be dangerous. I checked on you quite thoroughly and I didn't find that you worked for an assistant. Well, only on the cases that take me out of town. He's a worldly man. He could find a trout in the Sahara. Lots of experience. 15 years with the police department. All right. What's his name? Walter Q. Levinson. The Q is frequency, but don't tell him I mentioned it. Well, that's how it works. Man comes in, wants me to find his brother. Last seen in South America. Walt Levinson was looking for a vacation spot and I was looking for someone to talk to on my way to San Borja. Result, one phone called a fatty Levinson. Bolivia? Oh, but you'll love it, Walt. Trout is big as sharks. Where did you get two tickets to Bolivia? Well, to tell you the truth, fatty, I'm going down on a little job. See you when you get back. Bye. Now, wait a minute. Wait a minute, you end great. I've just got to find a missing brother. After that, we can relax and have ourselves a time. Oh, think of it. South America. The ocean as blue as my eyes. Native music on a golden moon. Quaint little. What did you say? Well, I'll meet you at the airport. Pan American Grace Clipper, flight 109 from Miami, Guatemala City, Panama, Lima, Arequipa, and La Paz boarding at gate seven, all aboard. Pan American Clipper, destination La Paz, Bolivia. And enough horsepower to get us there in a snappy 14 hours. The lights of Manhattan dropping away as we turn on the first leg of our pattern, heading up for 16,000, looking down and wondering about a man in a leather jacket and the crew cut, looking down as the lights begin to melt into a heavy cold front. 16,000 flying south, the pits changing the propellers into a mellow hum. Why don't you relax? Well, did you notice a little blonde stewardess with the high altitude features? On the way in. I want to get some sleep. Indulge yourself. I'm going to see if I can do something about the pressure in this cabin. The water on my knee is beginning to percolate. Oh, miss. Hey, fatty, wake up. Oh, oh, oh. You had yourself quite a sleep. Yeah. Where are we? Well, another hour. We're in Miami. How'd you make out with Miss Hummingbird? Been with Pan American three years, 60,000 miles, over 2,000 hours. Name's Rogers, Gene Rogers, Baltimore. How'd you make out? Oh, shut up. La compañía Panagra anuncia la llegada procedente de Nueva York. Los pasajeros desembarcarán en el terminal de Panagra número 3. Pan American Grace Airline Clipper Flight 109 from New York, now unloading at gate number three. Oh, I'm a little stiff. I didn't know you brought anything with you. What now? Well, pick up our baggage and on to San Borja. Where the devil is San Borja? How do I know? Let's go find out. And we did. San Borja, according to the information desk, was some 200 kilometers into the interior, 10,000 feet above sea level, high on a plateau. And the only way there? Oh, this is swell. Dandy vacation. But what happens when my liver comes loose? Well, relax, Walt. Only 160 kilometers to go, considering where we are. These roads are pretty good. We'll never make it. At 8 to 5, we end up riding side saddle on a bilious llama. Hey, driver. Si, señor. Why no airfield in San Borja? Oh, there is one there. But it is what you call the emergency. It is hard for a plane to land. Something to do with the wind. It's a plateau, isn't it? Si, señor. We've got to climb 5,000 feet yet. Sounds like an ambitious carapetist. 10 o'clock in the morning sun getting hotter. The old Ford straining up the grade like an antique teapot. 11 o'clock and the temperature crowding 120. I want to go home. Oh, we got to stop and let her cool off. Blue ocean and tropical music. Ha! Oh, how much farther, driver? About 20 kilometers, señor. I'm going to put some water from the canteen in the radiator. Hey, Walt, let's stretch our legs, huh? Okay. Oh, lousy humidity. Oh, si, sure was empty. He means his head. Duck, duck, Walt. On the guard. You okay? Yeah. They're behind that hill. Go out this side and try to circle them. Keep them covered. Right. Keep your head down. Gee, I'm glad you thought of that. Walt covered me and I crawled out behind the car and took off for a bunch of trees. They didn't spot me until I'd circled them and was almost on top of them. Two men with rifles lying behind a small hill. One of them turned and spotted me moving in. Walt? Yeah, okay. Okay. You all in one piece? Yeah. How about you? Fine. Two of them, huh? Bandits, I guess. You got them both. Wonder what they're after. Our hides. Came close to getting them too. The unexpected. Two men with rifles hiding behind a hill. If I hadn't gotten them, they'd have gotten us. We picked them up, dragged them over to the car, and I kept asking myself why. Why two men behind a hill with rifles? Bandits? Maybe. Assassins paid to wait there and kill us? If that was the answer, who told them we were coming? The man in the leather jacket back in New York? Maybe. Dumped them in the car? Yeah. The drivers had it. Slug got them in the chest. I'll dump him in too. Let's get to San Borja and get some answers. And if you say anything about a vacation, I'll sing all the way up the hill. The two Americans, Mr. Diamond and Mr. Levinson. Come in. Come in. I am Louis Faubert. How do you do, sir? Anything else, Mr. Faubert? No, that's all, Paul. Well, gentlemen, I understand you ran into some difficulty. Well, your local constabulary seemed to think there was some law against driving around San Borja with three dead men in the back seat. And these bandits attacked you and killed your drivers, is that right? That's right. And you in turn killed them? That's right. For tourists, you fight rather well. Well, not exactly tourists, Mr. Faubert. We asked to see you because we were sent here to the locator William Holland. Ah, I see. May I offer you a drink? Lovely suggestion. Here I present the interests of Arthur Holland, William's brother. That's right. Water. Straight. Well, gentlemen, I informed Mr. Holland that William simply left. After all, there is nothing strange about that. There you are. Thank you. Thank you. We're not looking for anything unusual, Mr. Faubert. This was the last place William was heard from, so this is the most likely place to find a locating. Of course. Well, here's to a pleasant stay in San Borja, gentlemen, and to have a good heads. Next week's issues of life, look, colliers, the Saturday evening post, and the farm journal carry one of the most important Rexall advertisements ever published. One page of this amazing two-page spread announces 10 great new products direct from the world-famous Rexall Laboratories. The other features 10 down-to-the-bone bargains available at every Rexall drugstore all during June. Listen to just a couple of examples. From the product page, Rexall 5X multivitamins, a new and vital formula that gives you five times the established daily requirement of all vitamins with known minimums. Special introductory offer, 10-day trial size, a dollar and 79 cent value, free of extra cost with a purchase of the regular bottle of 50, both for only $6.95. From the bargain page, gold-plated metal-framed sunglasses, men's and ladies' styles, regular dollar value, now only 67 cents. Remember, for new and better health aids, for bigger and more useful bargains. Check Rexall's sensational two-page ad in next week's issues of life, look, colliers, the Saturday evening post, and in the farm journal. And now back to tonight's adventure with Richard Diamond, Private Detective, starring Dick Powell. Louis Frobear, big man with a slight accent, drinking to our health and extending an invitation to his house for dinner that evening. One hotel in San Borja, not many tourists, according to the manager, but good rooms and hot water, according to the manager. Sandwiches and a late lunch complements the hotel. Frobear owned the hotel, according to the manager. It's open. If you gentlemen would like, Mr. Frobear instructed me to show you around the town. Who is it? You want to see the town? Sure. I'm glad to have you show us around. What's your name? Yavachek, Paul Yavachek. San Borja, Bolivia. Sitting on the top of the world, two-thirds dense tropical jungle, population 335, who take two months every year to cut back to persistent jungle. Principal industry, 10. The mines, two kilometers east. Frobear owned the mines, according to Paul Yavachek. Three main streets, modern up to date, a clothing store, several cafes, a bank, telegraph office, post office, and recreation hall, all built and owned by Frobear, according to our guide, Paul Yavachek. You mined tin, huh? How do you get it out? Trucks, then by cargo plane. If you had arrived tomorrow, you would have passed the caravans as you came up the mountain. The ore is taken out once a week. How well did you know William Holland? Not well. Now, if you gentlemen have seen enough for today, I suggest we leave for Mr. Frobear's house. He expects you at seven. A kilometer from town in the house of Louis Frobear, the jungle not far off and a heavy tropical shower right on top of us. Like Frobear, the house was big and imposing, a showcase of its master's wealth and position. I am so sorry that you got caught in the shower. They are pesty things sometimes, but they don't last long. Louis? Oh, gentlemen, my wife, Mrs. Frobear, Mr. Diamond, Mr. Levinson. How do you do? How do you do? Dinner is served. Dinner, the long paneled dining room illuminated by a dozen candles, music floating in from a hidden speaker, the food, something to make the Waldorf chef quietly fold his tent. And the conversation? Do you plan to stay in San Borja long, Mr. Diamond? It's hard to say, Mrs. Frobear. It's a wonderful soup. Mr. Diamond and Mr. Levinson have been sent here to try and locate William Holland. Oh? This soup is my own recipe, Mr. Diamond, made from barley-grown rye here in San Borja. Just a casual dinner conversation, unless you're conditioned, aware of the subtle interrogation. The end of a pleasant and filling meal, amaniac in the den, and more talk about health, wealth, and the weather, and more interrogation. Ten o'clock. Well, I am afraid you'll have to excuse me now, gentlemen. I have to be up at six o'clock, and I have a hard day ahead of me. The conventional goodbyes and exaggerated compliments on a wonderful evening, then back to the hotel. All in all, a very interesting evening, according to Faddy Levinson. Our charming hostess slipped me a note as we left. Why, Walt? I must talk with you. My husband will be leaving the house shortly before midnight. Meet me in the garden at twelve. Why, Walt? It's addressed to you. Why, Ricky? A quarter to twelve, then out the back of the hotel, because in San Borja, everyone works for Louis Frober. Heading for Frober's house, Walt fifty yards behind, because in San Borja, a note asking you to meet the wife of Louis Frober might easily be a trap. Maybe William Holland had received just such a note. Twelve o'clock, and Mrs. Frober moving through the moonlight in the garden south of the house, Walt behind a tree, ready for anything. I'm so glad you came, Mr. Diamond. Where's Mr. Levinson? Well, he stayed behind. Why did you want to see me, Mrs. Frober? It is about William Holland and my husband. Where is your husband, Mrs. Frober? He left with Paul for the mines. From what I could find out, he's going to meet someone, someone of great importance. What about William Holland? I am sure he has been killed, and I am sure my husband had him killed. Go on. We first met William in La Paz. He was likable, easy to talk to. I had been married for two years, and it was my first trip away from San Borja. I liked William. You know anyone in New York, blonde, short-cut hair, plump face, might like to wear leather jackets? No. Go on with your story. A year after I married Louis Frober, I began to suspect something wrong with his activities here in San Borja. The men who came to see him on business. Strange men. Founders to South America. Long nights of business meetings on trips to the mines. When William finally came here, I told him of my suspicions, and one night he informed me he was going to the mines to investigate. I never heard from him again. You think it had something to do with your husband? Right after that I overheard a phone conversation by my husband. He was talking to someone he called the director. The director? Yes. My husband said that William had found his way into the mines and had been eliminated. I see. You've only known your husband for two years. Two years and a half. I met him in Rio while he was down on one of his business trips. I married him six months later and came to San Borja to live. Would you like to know where I met my husband, Mr. Diamond? If you think it's necessary. With what I've come to believe, I feel that it is most necessary. I met him at the party given by the Russian embassy. Mr. Diamond, I am sure that my husband is an important official for the communists. Along the road east of the Frobri mines, no lights, just the moon. The sounds of the jungle raising the hair on the back of my neck. A kilometer from the mines and the dull glow in the sky pointing the way. Frobri's generators and manpower are working late. The kilometer passed and the tenseness in the middle of my stomach took on cramp-like proportions. We climbed a hill for a better look. Pretty busy. Must be 30 trucks down there. I'm getting them loaded for the trip down the hill. Hey, listen to that. Well, I'll be darned. Is that what I think it is? The fields in San Borja make it tough for a plane, but for a helicopter, that's another thing. Frobri left the house to meet somebody important. Anybody who comes into San Borja on a helicopter at night is a pretty good bet to be important. Our dead driver said there was an emergency field. Well, it's landing on the other side of the mines. Must be close. You want to take a look? Well, not too many men around those trucks. Before we go looking for that copter, I want to see if it's really 10 Mr. Frobri's taking out of that mine. Down the hill, walk 20 yards behind in case of trouble, taking our way through the brush, trying not to sound like a landslide. A long road running away from the mines towards San Borja. The line of trucks, the first dozen are so loaded and ready, their backs piled high with sacks. A short sprint and I was boosting myself up on the back of the first truck, digging into one of the sacks, feeling the heavy chunks of ore, then down off the truck with the ore in my hand. You're up late, Mr. Diamond. Paul Javacheck, Frobri's right-hand boy, standing in the darkness, his gun pointed right at my stomach. Mr. Frobri will be happy to know of your interest in these mines. Start walking up the road toward the main gate. Stay ahead of me, keep your hands in sight. Tell me something, Javacheck. How do you get 10 out of pitch blend? I suggest you ask, Mr. Frobri. He's at the mines? He will be. Ramp it, Javacheck. Thanks, Paul, thanks. You all right? Yeah, that's close. Javacheck? Dead. Come on, let's get out of here. Where to? Mrs. Frobri said her husband had a phone conversation. I'm going to use that phone and warn La Paz about Frobri. Hold it. What is it? Car coming down the road. Frobri. Yeah, yeah, and he's got company. Probably his important visitor. When he finds out what's happened, he'll guess it's us. We'll never get back to town before he does. Unless we drive. I will take a chance on the confusion and grab that first truck. Clear. Keys are in the truck. We must live right. Yeah, but for how long? There is a direct phone line all the way to Cavendo. The operator at Cavendo can put you through to La Paz. She's talking Spanish. You better take it. This is Mrs. Frobri. Please connect me to La Paz. Minutes running out. Mrs. Frobri looking frightened, waiting for La Paz to answer. She has them. Ask for the embassy. Car pulling up. The American embassy, please. Frobri and his important friends. Mr. Diamond, I have them. Hello? Yes, American embassy. Now listen carefully. I can't repeat. This is Richard Diamond, American citizen calling from San Borja, Bolivia. Louis Frobri is not mining tin. It's pitch blend and is believed to be working for the Russian government. Look out! Hello. Hello, Mr. Diamond. Rick. Okay. Mrs. Frobri. I'm all right. Take a look at Frobri and his friend. Hello. Hello. What happened? Hold on a second. There's been some trouble. Frobri's friend is dead. Frobri's moving, but it doesn't look very good. Hello. Hello, La Paz. Yes, Mr. Diamond. Go ahead. What about Frobri? Wait a minute. Maybe I can get in to tell you himself if the phone will reach. Frobri. Frobri, can you hear me? Hello, La Paz. There's been a shooting here and Mr. Frobri's dying. Frobri. Frobri, you're dying. You want to tell us about it? You're mining pitch blend instead of tin, right? Right. You're working for the Soviet Union? Yes. Did you send two men to ambush me? Yes. Our agents in New York watched Arthur Holland and reported that she had been hired. You were lying with the crew cut in a leather jacket. Did you have William Holland killed? Yes. He found Arthur Holland. Frobri. Hello, La Paz. Frobri's dead. This time of year, no woman wants to spend endless hours caring for her skin and makeup. Since you want the finest beauty care in the least time and with no nonsense about it, why not try the new Anne Della Field Cosmetics? Designed expressly for the busy modern woman, they give you the most for your cosmetic dollar and save time as well. There are no endless bottles and jars, no endless creams for different corners of your face and neck, just one fine cream, the Anne Della Field all-purpose deep cream, a day cream, cleansing cream, night cream, all creams in one. There are vitamins too for true beauty from within and other lovely makeup aids tailor made for you. Look for the fine Anne Della Field Cosmetics at Rexall Drugstores everywhere. Good health to all from Rexall. Richard Diamond, Private Detective, stars Dick Powell in the title role and was written by Blake Edwards with music composed and conducted by Frank Wirth. Dick Powell directed the RKO production Split Second, which is now in release, and his latest film appearance was in the Metro Golden Mayor award-winning The Bad and the Beautiful. Heard in tonight's cast were Arthur Q. Bryan, Wilms Herbert, Ben Wright, Jack Crouchon, Virginia Gregg, Don Diamond, and Lillian Byatt. Richard Diamond, Private Detective is transcribed in Hollywood by Jaime Del Valle. This is Bill Foreman inviting you to be with us next Sunday at this time when Rexall Drug Products again bring you Dick Powell as Richard Diamond, Private Detective. Remember for new and better health aids for bigger and more useful bargains, check Rexall's sensational two-page ad in next week's issues of Life, Look, Colliers, the Saturday Evening Post, and in the Farm Journal. You can know better health. You can save money. Thank you.
