The F.W. Fitch Company, makers of those fine Fitch products, presents Dick Powell as private investigator Richard Rogue in Rogue's gallery. Rogue speaking. Well, things were a little slow at the office, which is my way of saying I didn't have a client or a dime. And I was indulging in my favorite form of athletics, a fast game of snooker pool with Herb Heidey, the bookie at the deluxe pool hall. Heidey was born with a pool cue in one hand and a cue ball on the other, and I was born with an eight ball birthmark. He was trimming me like a Christmas tree. And I was glad when the elevator boy from my building yelled into the door that I had a customer in my office. So I shoved off to talk to this volunteer victim. When I opened the door to my office, I saw him standing there, a dignified looking white haired gent with a strong nose, a weak mouth, and the nice middle class air of substantial citizenry. You're Mr. Rogue? That's right. You want to talk business with me, Mr. Grant? George Grant, yes. Oh, have a chair, Mr. Grant. No, thank you. I prefer to stand. Mr. Rogue, I understand that you have connections with the fire insurance companies, that you are sometimes retained by them to investigate losses which might have been caused by arson. That's right. Go on. Are you interested in the fire at the Matthews Fir Company warehouse a week ago? I could be. That fire was arson, Mr. Rogue. I can tell you some very interesting facts about it. Good, good. That was a pretty important claim, wasn't it? The fire destroyed over a hundred thousand dollars worth of furs. Well, start talking, Grant. I'd like to have a thousand dollars before I talk with you, Mr. Rogue. Well, I don't usually pay out that kind of money until I know what I'm buying. I'm not saying a word, sir, until I get a thousand dollars. I've been double crossed once on this deal, and I don't intend to take a chance on getting the same treatment from you. Just how much did you have to do with this torching, Grant? I don't intend to answer that question. Do I get my thousand dollars, Mr. Rogue? Ah, come back in an hour. You have the money for me, then? Yeah, yeah. Come back in an hour. And your story, it better be good, Grant. I'm a busy man. I haven't time to fool around with crackpots. I'll have the proof. Okay. So long now. Oh, it's four o'clock, Grant. I'll see you at five. On the dot, right? I'll be here. Hello? Hello, Flynn. Say, your outfit had the Matthews Fur Company warehouse fire cover, didn't it? Who is this? This is Richard Rogue. Yes, yes, we had it. A hundred and sixty thousand dollar claim. Well, fine. Say, would you pay me ten percent of what I saved you on that claim if I could prove the fire was arson? Sixteen thousand dollars? No. Okay, okay. Save sixteen thousand dollars and lose a hundred and sixty. I can afford it if you can. Wait a minute. How can you prove arson? I've got a man. He wants to talk. He says he can prove arson. I believe him. I'll give you ten thousand for a conviction. I'll take it. Look, send a thousand dollar retainer over here, special messenger, right away. It's important. Hey, wait a minute. Hello, Flynn. Yes, where have you been, Rogue? Well, my source of information has just been eliminated. But the deal's on. What do you mean? Well, he must have known too much. He's been murdered. Well, that's the beginning of a case out of my crime gallery called Fortunate Firs. I'll tell you the rest of the story in a minute. But first here's Jim Doyle, who's going to tell you men how to shave off stubble without fuss or trouble. Thanks, Dick. Man, if you have that show-me attitude when it comes to shaving cream, we invite you to try Fitchers No Brush. 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Fitch, spelled F-I-T-C-H. And now back to Dick Powell as Private Investigator Richard Rogue in Rogue's Gallery. Well, as I was saying, I was as broke as the New Year's resolution when I ran across proof that the Matthews Fur Company warehouse fire was arson. I called Lewis Flynn, who headed up the Fidelity Fire Insurance Company, and made a deal with him for ten grand if I could prove that the fire was of incendiary origin. And while I was talking with him, George Grant, my witness, was killed leaving the building. Well, I couldn't afford to lose a ten thousand dollar fee right then, so I took a fast distance to the home of the late George Grant. I knocked at the door. What do you want? I want to talk with you. You're George Grant's daughter? Yes. You're the police? Uh, yes. Come in. Thank you. I suppose you want to question me about my father's affairs. Yes, that's right. Come in here, please. I can't believe that Dad is dead. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Believe me. And if you'll help me, I'm sure we can find the people who murdered him. Sit down, please. Thank you. Now, uh, Miss Grant, what was your father's business? Oh, don't you know? He was warehouse manager for the Matthews for a company. He had been for years. Oh. Did he have any enemies that you know of? No. Dad wasn't the kind of a man who made enemies. He was, well, he was sweet. Oh, I don't know. There'd been something wrong with him for the last couple of weeks. He wasn't himself. He was worried. And it was all that blonde's fault. Blonde? Yes. The niece Maxwell. Dad became involved with it. And he was spending too much money on it. Much too much money. Oh, uh, how long ago did he meet this, uh, Miss Maxwell? Oh, about a month ago, I guess. She deliberately chased him. She must have had some reason for it. Dad was no great cat. He was just a little guy working for a salary, trying to get a law. Oh, you say he's been acting strangely. In what way? Could you break that down a little bit for me? Oh, I'll try. You see, for a while he was talking about how he was going to have a lot of money. All of a sudden, he was happy and carefree then. He was gone from home quite a bit. One night he had a meeting here with some rough looking men. He wouldn't tell me who they were. Yes, go on. Then after the warehouse fire, he was depressed. And he, he talked about, he talked about killing himself. I knew he was in some awful trouble, but he wouldn't talk with me about it. He just kept calling me Miss Maxwell. She wouldn't answer the phone even. Oh, did your father talk with you much about the fire? No. But I'm sure that that fire had something to do with his, his murder. I know it did. That Maxwell woman had something to do with it too. How do you suppose that is? I think I know. Please don't go away. I don't want to talk to anybody else. If you stay here, maybe they, maybe they'll leave. Mr. Residence of George Grant? Yes. Who are you? Lieutenant Urban, Homicide Squad. Oh. Won't you come in? Uh, hello, Evan. Rogue, what are you doing here? Isn't he a policeman? No. What are you doing here, Rogue? I'm working on a case. Do you know anything about a murder that took place outside your office an hour ago? A little, I see. What are you doing out here? Well, I'm working for a client. I've got a license to do that. Do you want to see it? If he isn't a policeman, who is he? He's a private investigator, which is a Harvard version of a gum shoe. His name is Rogue, Richard Rogue. It is? Well, he told me he was a policeman. I, I wouldn't have let him in. I'm not very gracious of you, Miss Grant. Shut up. Miss Grant, did you give this man any information which you should have withheld for the police? I don't know. He, he kept asking me questions about, about my father. I answered them. What do you know about a murder, that murder, Rogue? Who did it? I don't know. How did he get out here so fast? How did you know who the murdered man was? I don't have to answer that. Well, he'd been up to your office to see you, hadn't he? Daddy? Miss Grant, do you know whether or not your father planned on seeing a private investigator today? Well, I don't know. He didn't tell me if he did. I'm getting a little fed up with your ethics, Rogue. Aren't you getting a little out of line, Irvin? You're withholding information. Can you prove it? This man was shot on his way out of your office. What was he talking to you about? Answer me. Did you see him talking to me? Oh, now let's not get technical. Well, let's do, let's do. You're going to take me down to the station and sweat me? Not if you'll be reasonable. I'm not going to be reasonable. So either pull out your cuffs or shut up. Oh, please. Oh, I'm, I'm sorry, Miss Grant. Believe me, I, I really want to help you. I'm going to take care of the people who are responsible for this murder. Even the cops can't keep you from doing that. Now, wait a minute, Rogue. I'm walking out of here, Irvin. I'll see you later. When I deliver the killers to you so you can take a bow for the newspapers. Oh, I was burned like a bride's biscuits and feeling just as tough when I walked out of that house and passed Irvin's squad car to my coupe. It didn't do my atomic temper any good when a pasty-faced gunman got out of the front seat of my car and pointed a pistol at me. Rogue, get in. We're going places. Huh? Oh. Oh, okay, Junior. But be careful of that thing. It might go off. Where to, Junior? Straight down the street. I'll tell you when to turn. You, you had a visitor at your office this morning. How much talking did he do? Oh, you mean George Grant? You know who I mean. Well, he didn't talk much. Why? Who wants to know? Boss, look out where you're going, Rogue. Well, I'm not worried. I've got the wheel. Let's get this thing out of low, shall we? What are you trying to do, Rogue? Kill yourself? No, it makes me feel safer going this fast because you pulled the trigger on that heater and you're just as dead as I am. Slow down, Rogue. Hey, hey, that guy almost crashed us. What's the matter, Billy boy, you yellow? I've got a tank full of gas and this car will make over a hundred. You're going to kill us both. Possible, as a matter of fact, it's probable. But you were going to take me for a ride anyway, weren't you? I got nothing to lose. Give me that gun. Hey, keep your hands on the wheel, Rogue. Hey, cut it off. Give me that gun, bud. Come on. Get your hands on the wheel, Rogue. You're going to crash. Give me that gun or I'll rip right in the wall ahead of us. You know me, kid. I mean it. Now, give me that gun. Would you let me go? No. Give it here. Oh, look. Come on. Come on. Hey. Hey. Well, I'm going to kill you. Hey. Well, I'll be. He's passed out. Hey. Hey. In the struggle for the gun, I twisted this torpedo's hand around and, well, he pulled the trigger himself, with me a tripping factor. He shot himself through the chest, but it didn't look fatal to me. So I drove him to a hospital and left him there. Told them to call Urban. I used the hospital phone to check up on Bernice Maxwell and found that she was a sort of a notorious babe, ran an escort service, which was legitimate enough, but she's had a few sidelines, such as a blackmail. I got her home address out of the book and went out there. She lived in a nice enough house out on the east side of town. I rang the doorbell. Yes? Hello, Miss Maxwell. I'd like to talk to you for a moment, please. Who are you? Let's talk about that inside, Jovey. What do you mean, forcing your way in here? I mean business, Blondie, and that's what we're going to talk. Now, let's go in the other room and have a chat. You just lead the way. After all, you are the hostess. If you don't get out of here, I'm going to call the police. Don't bother, baby. I'm the police. And I want to talk to you about a fire and a murder. So just get moving. Come on. A murder? Yes. Yes, a murder. Doesn't the fire surprise you, too? Sit down. I don't know what you're talking about. Who are you, anyway? That's beside the point. I want to know what you had to do with the murder of George Grant. You can talk now or later. I've got nothing but time. George Grant? He's dead? Yes, very. He was murdered about five minutes after four downtown on Grand Avenue, and I think you know who did it. I don't. I don't know anything about it. You never heard of him, huh? I knew him slightly. Oh, now please, Miss Maxwell. You knew him better than slightly. You've been running around with him or giving him the run around for the last month. You deliberately set a trap for him, didn't you? You mixed him up in that Eisen job in the Matthews Fur Company's warehouse. What do you think about it, Arson? You can't come in here and flippen my name. Oh, look, lady, I'm not going to be polite about this. George Grant has been murdered. You had a hand in that murder, and I'm going to get the information out of you if I have to beat it out of you. And if you think I'm bluffing, just keep on dumbing up. Now, who was mixed up in that Eisen job that Grant was killed for knowing too much about? Look, I'm going to count three, then I'm going to come over there and slap the information out of you. Look, if I tell you what you want to know, will you fix it with the district attorney to let me turn state evidence? It depends on how good your information is. You have nothing on me. Now, don't start that again. You almost had your mind made up to be smart. Don't double cross yourself. Now, come on. Talk. I have everything you need right here in this desk. Now, you're talking sense. Now, wise guy, get your hands up. Huh? Oh, no kidding. Now, look, Maxwell, this is nothing you can shoot your way out of, especially with a toy gun like that. Sit down. No. If I'm going to be shot, I want to be standing up when I get it. This is a silly piece of grandstanding, Blondie. I'm going to take that gun away from you before you nerve yourself into pulling the trigger. Don't. Don't come another step. I'm telling you, if you do, I'll shoot. You don't think one bullet from that little 25 is going to stop me, do you? It won't, Maxwell. I'll just keep right on coming and I'll take it away from you. And I'll put you in the pen for the rest of your life for attempted murder. I'll be there anyway if I don't get rid of you. Don't be a sucker now. Think of those 13 steps to the death house. I'm coming after that gun, Maxwell. You take one more step and I'll... Oh, I hated it. Slapped that gun out of your hand, Blondie, but you didn't want to shoot me anyway, did you? Yes. Let go of my arm. You're hurting me. Now talk. Who's behind that awesome deal? Who's the cut-off man? Who's the brain? Oh, yeah, I can't tell you. I can't. If I talk, they'll kill me. Come on. Come on. I haven't much sympathy for dames like you. You killed George Grant just as much as if you pulled the trigger on him. Now talk, baby. Talk. Do you hear? Let go of my hand. Hey. Hey. Hey, Blondie, come out of it. Come on. Well, I'm a son of a gun. She passed out on me. Hey, Maxwell, come out of it now, will you? Come on. All right, Rogue. Just stay right where you are. Huh? What did you do to Benny? Oh, nothing. Did she talk? No. No, she didn't. That's good. How did you get here, Rogue? Well, I... I fell. I... Oh, I got rid of that little pasty-puss gunman you sent after me. Where is he? He's been taken care of. That's funny. That's exactly what's going to happen to you, Richard. Extend still while I get this gun out of that shoulder holster. Okay, okay. You're in the driver's seat. You just could never learn to stay in trouble, could you? Trouble's my business, Bob. Get up and keep your hands in the air. Oh, sure. Well, if you're going to let me have it, this is as good a time as any, isn't it? Time's all right. But I don't like the place, that's all. I'm going to take you out in the country. That's nice to think about. I love the country. You know I'm going to have to kill you, don't you? You know too much. Sure. Sure. You couldn't stand a police investigation, could you, Bob? No. You know, you should have covered me yourself when I left the Grant House. You should never send a boy to do a man's work. No. You're yellow too, aren't you? You haven't got the guts to pull a trigger yourself. You've got a lot of nerve talking that way when you're looking down the barrel of this gun, Richard. Ah, you're a two-for-a-nickel penny-ante ten-horn, Frenchy. And I'm going to take that gun away from you and make you eat it. Yes? Well, I have plans for you, Richard. I'm going to bend this gun over your head first and then I'm going to get rid of you. For good. You haven't got the guts. No. Turn around, Wogue. Well, I wasn't as bad as I sounded there, believe me. I'm no hero and usually when a guy has the drop on me, I obey orders like a corporal bucking for sergeant. But I didn't have much to lose and for once I wanted to be hit over the head. Oh, I got my wish and rolled with a blow. Those old familiar stars started to circulate around my indestructible cranium and I started to black out. But I pulled myself back and hung on to consciousness. I didn't move after I fell. I didn't have to. You see, I fell with my left shoulder in the shadows covering the automatic I'd slapped out of Bernice Maxwell's hand a little earlier. When I heard this character walk away from me, I got my right hand on the gun. He went over to where Bernice was, just coming around to this world again. I could hear him talking to her. Bernice, Bernice. Oh, it's you, Marcel. Where is he? Wogue, he's on ice over there in the corner. You kill him? No, but I'm going to. They didn't want to do it here on your house. Drop that gun, Marcel. I'm taking over from here. What? Drop it! Marcel, he's over there by the piano! We'll return to Richard Wogue in just a moment, but first I have a suggestion for the ladies. Do you have trouble finding a shampoo that your whole family likes? If you do, why not present them with a bottle of Fitch's saponified coconut oil shampoo. We'll wager they'll be delighted with it because Fitch's saponified shampoo is a favorite with both men and women, young folks and old. Dad likes it for the businesslike cleansing it gives. Your young daughter will swoon over its fragrance and the way it gives her hair dancing highlights. Junior thinks shampoos on the whole are a nuisance, but if it's got to be done, he'll take Fitch's saponified shampoo because it's so quick and easy to use. Yes, ladies, for a good all-around family shampoo, it's Fitch's saponified. Made from pure natural oils, this shampoo will not dry the hair or make it harsh feeling. Fitch's saponified shampoo has been granted the Parents Magazine commendation seal. When you buy shampoo, look for the bottle with the bright yellow label. Fitch's saponified coconut oil shampoo. And now we return to Rogue's Gallery with Dick Powell as private investigator Richard Rogue. I was a little worried about my future as I stood there behind the cover of that piano and pump lead at myself. But if I could get in a lucky shot, I knew I could put him away for the murder of George Grant and the arson job at the Matthews Fur Covary warehouse. I'd hit him a couple of times and his girl, Bernice Maxwell, was screaming at me to stop. But Marcel kept on trying to luck a shot into my anatomy. Stop shooting! Stop shooting! Don't move! Don't move! He's the one of you! I've still got plenty of lead here to stop you if you do. What are you going to do about it? I'm going to turn you both over to the cops, baby. Well, this guy will live to hang. Now here, here, tie him up. Use his necktie. Come on. He needs a doctor! Well, I'll call one as soon as he's secured. Come on, tie him tight now. He's bleeding to death! Shut up! Here now, take my tie. Tie his feet tight. You really top-punched your own. Now what I meant, yeah. Oh, oh yeah. Here's my gun and here's the gun that's going to send your boyfriend to the chair. Now you want to go with him or do you want to tell me all about it? You mean I can still turn state's evidence? Were you mixed up in the murder? No. I don't know anything about that. You know about the arson deal though, huh? Yes. Okay, baby. Now start talking. Maybe I can get you a deal with the D.A. I'll talk. I'll tell. I'll tell you everything. Well, she sang. Yeah, she sang plenty and the words were music to my ears. When she was through singing, I tied her up tight and called homicide to tell Urban where he could pick up a murderer and an accessory before the facts. Then I told him where I'd be later. I called Flynn at the Fidelity Fire Insurance Company and told him to meet me at the home of Paul Matthews, owner of the Matthews Fur Company, in ten minutes. He did and we went in together. The butler sort of unwillingly showed us into the study where Matthews was reading. I'm Richard Rowe, Mr. Matthews. The investigator? The celebrated investigator, Mr. Matthews. This gentleman with me here is Mr. Flynn of the Fidelity Fire Insurance Company. How do you do? Well, I'm puzzled as to the purpose of your visit, gentlemen. Well, I won't puzzle you, Matthews. The fire at your fur warehouse was deliberate arson. Oh? Why, why, that's preposterous. It's a nice act, but no gold. We're not paying the claim, Matthews. We have absolute evidence that... Let me tell you, Flynn. You made a deal with Marcel Jarnak, one of the West's leading arsonists, to start that blaze, Matthews. But you needed the loyalty of an old employee of yours, the manager of your warehouse, George Grant. Grant was an honest guy. So you and Marcel seeked a dame on him, a dame named Bernice Maxwell. Ah, you convinced now that I know what I'm talking about? No. I tell you what... Okay, then I'll give you some more dope. With Grant's help, you took all the fancy furs out of the warehouse and filled it up with a lot of junk. And then Grant sopped it all down to the gasoline and touched it off. So you want the insurance and $160,000 worth of minks and sables for burning $1,000 worth of cat skin. It was a swindle, Matthews. We're not paying the claim. The cops have the Maxwell woman, Marcel Jarnak, and a tasty-faced gunman who worked with them. They've all talked. You're through, Matthews. That's the police now, the homicide squad. Show the man, will you, Flint? Sure. Looks like the end of the road for me, doesn't it, Mr. Rogue? Yeah, yeah, it sure does, Matthews. You know, amateurs like you shouldn't go around mixing up with professional crooks. That's right. Hey, hey, cut it out. Drop that gun. Matthews, hey, here, here. What's going on in here, Rogue? Ah, this guy, this Matthews, tried to commit suicide. I had to take the gun away from him. That's all I've been doing all day long. Is that living? Well, it was pasty-puss's gun that bumped George Grant. He and Marcel got the chair. Matthews and Bernice Maxwell got ten years apiece, and I got ten grand reward money for cracking the case. Yeah, I really had a time with that $10,000. Went to Mexico, Mexico City, incidentally. Alla Senoritas, mucho pratecas. Spent the month of January there. What a month, January. As soon as I get time, I'm going to write a book. You know what the title's going to be? I'm going to call it Lost January. Oh dear. Incidentally, I hope you noticed that I didn't get my brains knocked out and make my regular visit to my alter-enemy, Ugo, tonight. What's the idea, Rogge? I missed you. Are you mad because I threw that Betty Dame off our cloud? No, Ugo. Oh, but look, Rogge, you made a reservation. On cloud number eight? I did not. Oh, yes you did. You said it. I said what? You said, see you next week, Ugo. You said it. I heard you. Okay, okay, I've seen you. Good night, Richard. Goodbye, Rogge. Say, Rogge, aren't you going to wish me a Merry Christmas? Oh, sure, sure. Merry Christmas, Ugo. Merry Christmas, Richard. So long. Merry Christmas. Imagine that little dehydrated Santa Claus. Oh, well, I love everybody. And God blesses one and all. To coin a phrase. You know what I mean? This is the...
