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In just a moment we'll begin tonight's adventure of George Valentine.
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And now tonight's story, the last payoff, another adventure of George Valentine.
Say, who did this?
What in the...
The whole room is torn apart.
Why?
Who?
What are they trying to do to me?
What's that guy's name again?
Ada Valdez Valentine.
That's it, George Valentine.
Okay, okay Bartel, stop shaking.
So somebody ransacked your place here.
And yet you say nothing was taken.
Yeah, yeah that's right Miss Brooks.
Well?
Well don't you understand?
It's why did anybody take this place apart?
What are they trying to do to me?
What do you mean do to you?
I...I can't afford any trouble.
I'm an ex-con.
Oh, a little matter you forgot to mention when you wrote to me, eh Buster?
Yeah, I forgot.
Isn't that terrible?
I figured I'm entitled to get a little help like any other human being.
Wasn't that a lot of nerve for me to think that?
Okay, okay, skip the dramatics.
What were you in jail for?
I stole a car.
Got drunk and stole a car.
It was my second offense.
Spent 18 months in the pen.
So I figured I'd find me a small town somewhere and make a new start.
Why this particular small town, Lenfield?
Because I knew someone here.
Someone I thought might give me a hand.
Clear that up will you?
Man, my wife and I met in Chicago.
That's where I come from.
Big fat guy, nice, good connections.
John Logan.
We hit it off fine.
Said if I ever needed help I should look him up.
I suppose your wife is here with you.
You suppose wrong lady.
She left me flat while I was in jail.
She's someplace in Europe.
From the chorus line of a girlie show.
Ruthie is the loyal kind.
Why make a big mystery of all this?
Sneak that got in here, you surprised him.
He knocked you out and ran.
No, that's not the answer, Valentine.
Somebody was looking for something special.
Looked in every little place.
Even went through my pockets when I was dead to the world.
Ripped open the lining of my jacket.
Look.
See?
Uh-huh.
The only thing I own that's worth anything is this wrist watch.
It's a good one.
But the guy didn't take it, did he?
No, it was no sneak thief.
But who else could it be?
And why?
I don't suppose your landlady noticed any strange men crowling around here?
No.
As I figure it, whoever it was climbed in through the window.
Hey, tell me.
How long has it been raining hard like this?
Hmm?
Oh, a couple of days now.
This time of the year it always rains in this place, they tell me.
What are you driving at, George?
Those footprints near the window.
You're pretty small, Bartell.
That's what I meant.
Those aren't my footprints.
Must be the man who ransacked my room.
Some kind of red clay.
Must have been somewhere where there's red clay.
That's not too much to go on.
No.
Say, Bartell, suppose you tell me about this Mr. Logan, the good Samaritan turned sour.
Well, it isn't really like that.
I just haven't been able to get a hold of him yet.
I spoke to Mrs. Logan a couple of times.
She said she'd give him a message.
And if that has anything to do with any of this, he seems to be the only one you know here in Linfield.
That's what's driving me batty.
I don't know why anybody should be interested in anything I might have.
Tell me, do you think Mr. Logan might be home now?
I don't know.
I saw him this morning.
You did?
Yeah, I was on a bus and it passes the back of his house.
I noticed Mr. Logan burning something in the incinerator in his backyard.
So I thought here's my chance to talk to him.
Yeah, go on.
Well, by the time I got off the bus, Mr. Logan was gone.
I asked his wife where he went and she said downtown.
I went to his office, figuring I'd just barge in and get to see him once and for all.
But he wasn't there.
And the girl said she didn't know where he might be.
The elusive Mr. Logan.
I know all this sounds mixed up and not too important, Valentine, but it's important to me.
I want to know what's going on.
I want to go straight.
I don't want any trouble.
I don't have much money, but I'll pay what I can for you to help me.
All right, Bartown, you got me curious.
You stay here.
I can find out something.
No, Mr. Valentine, Mr. Reese and I are quite through talking.
Oh, Mrs. Logan, I could wait in the next room.
No, it's all right, young man.
Mrs. Logan is right.
Talking doesn't do much good.
You will convey my message to Mr. Logan, won't you?
Of course, although frankly, I don't understand it.
He'll understand.
That's the important thing.
And I know he'll listen to you very carefully.
Really?
Oh, you might also tell him I'm a patient man.
Very patient, but my patience is wearing thin.
I'll tell him.
I know he'll understand that.
Good day.
No, no, no, I'll let myself out.
No.
Where were we before we were interrupted by Mr. Reese?
You assured me you didn't know a thing about that client of mine, Mr. Bartell.
That's right.
And I certainly didn't know a thing about his wife, his young, pretty wife, as I gather now.
So, that's that, I guess.
Surely, Mr. Valentine, if you really want to know about Mr. Bartell, our local police will help you.
Our sheriff is a very efficient man.
As a matter of fact, my assistant, Miss Brooks, is checking that angle.
I asked her to call me back here, if you don't mind.
Not at all.
You have no idea where Mr. Logan might be right now.
Oh, yes.
He's out buying a raincoat.
A raincoat?
Well, he was simply soaked when he got to the office this morning, so I told him I wasn't going to have him come down with a cold, or worse.
So, he's out buying a raincoat.
I see.
Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Valentine, if you're going to wait?
No, thanks, don't bother.
I'm afraid I'm a very poor hostess, but I have been rather upset.
Really?
I know it can't possibly matter to you, but Mr. Logan has been so, well, not himself lately, so nervous.
I know it's ridiculous, because money is no problem with us.
But now he seems to be worried about owing people money.
People like Mr. Reese.
This is one time he won't listen to me, talk to me about it.
Perhaps I could help.
I'm sorry.
Tell you what, maybe we will have that cup of tea.
It might cheer up both of us.
And this constant rain might be good to have a cup of...
Excuse me.
Hello.
May I speak to Mr. Valentine, please?
This is Claire Brooks.
Of course.
Just a minute.
It's for you, Mr. Valentine.
Oh, thanks.
Yeah, Brooksie, did you find anything about our friend Bartell?
No, George.
I'm afraid the police are in too much of a dither to be much help.
Dither?
What are you talking about?
Most of them are down at the only place in town where there's clay.
What?
That's right, red clay.
And George, there's been a murder there.
The car is parked right over there, George.
I didn't want to talk in front of Mrs. Logan, but tell me more about the murder.
Who is the victim?
Police don't know yet.
A weasel-faced little man who was seen coming here to Linfield every month or so for almost
a year.
Yeah.
Very interesting thing, George.
There were some footprints leading away from the clay pits, large footprints.
Oh, a ransacking friend, maybe, huh?
Could be.
Oh, there was something else.
Oh, what?
Some woman walking in the street a couple of hundred yards away from the clay pits was
scared by a man hurrying away from there.
A big fat man in a dark blue raincoat, she said.
Or at least, that's what a boy who runs a service station not far from there reported.
Ah, come on, come on.
Come on, where?
This way.
But that goes to Logan's backyard, George.
I'm playing a long, long shot, Angel.
Oh.
Careful with the puddles.
Bartel told us he saw Mr. Logan burning something in the incinerator this morning, didn't he?
Well, yes.
And Logan is a big man, and his wife told me he's buying a new raincoat this morning.
Well, what happened to his old one?
Oh, there's the incinerator over there.
Yeah, now wait.
Now, here's some kind of a poke in it.
Yeah, this will do.
You see anything, George?
Everything pretty well burned to ashes.
Everything's sink.
What is it?
Oh, it's a piece of metal.
Belt buckle.
Still covered with some cloth.
Blue cloth.
That's it, all right.
Logan burned his dark blue raincoat.
George, I thought you wanted to go to the police station.
I told you before it's down the other block.
I know, but I'm still playing that long shot.
Now, what's that supposed to mean?
Just be patient, please, Angel.
That clothing store down there, Wilson's, that looks like the largest one in town.
All right, I agree.
But what if they happen?
Well, let's pass it just once again and then we'll...
All right, so you can stop on a dime.
Now what?
A big fat man just coming out in a brand new yellow raincoat.
Mr. Logan?
I wouldn't be surprised.
Stay here, Angel.
I still have a client, remember?
I want to talk to Logan before we stick the police on him.
Now, George, be careful with him.
Yes, sure, okay, okay.
Mr. Logan?
Mr. Logan, wait a minute.
Hey, please, wait.
What do you want?
I don't know you.
My name's George Valentine.
Never heard of you, please.
I'm in a hurry.
I'm very busy.
I came to Linfield because a man named Bartell wrote to me.
What?
I'll kill you.
I'll kill you with my bare hands.
Now, take it easy, friend.
You're out of your class.
What else do you want from me?
Haven't you done enough?
Leave me alone.
I just want some straight answers to a few questions, that's all.
We can talk right there in that car.
Look at your shoes, Mr. Logan.
What?
There are still traces of red clay on them, see?
No, no.
I want to talk to you about a clay pet and murder, Mr. Logan.
Now, will you come along?
Yes.
Yes, I'll go with you.
I must talk to somebody.
Anybody, please talk to me.
Help me.
Please help me.
In just a moment, we'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine.
Over the hills and through the woods to grandmother's house we go.
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A next convict, Ray Bartel, pleads that he's trying to go straight, hires you to find out who ransacked his room and why.
Only the case is complicated by the murder of a man the police haven't been able to identify, and the fact that the leading suspect is one of the town's leading citizens, John Logan.
And as you sit with him in your car on a rain-swept street, you know he's close to the breaking point. That is, if your name is George Valentine.
If you're sort of a private detective, Mr. Valentine, then you're just what I, what I may need. And you, Miss Brooks, you seem so understanding. It's been so long since I could really talk to anybody.
Please, Mr. Logan, you must calm down.
No, Mrs. Logan is a fine woman. Fine and good, but I couldn't talk to her, not after what I've done to her.
Now look, look, we're not going to get anywhere until you get a hold of yourself and tell us what happened in some sort of order.
If things happen in life in any order, do they make any sense?
Mr. Logan, you were seen leaving the claypits. Your footprints there were photographed by the police.
Don't you understand? I didn't kill Joe. When I got there, Joe was already dead.
Oh, so that was the name of the murdered man. The police were unable to identify him.
Joe, that was the only name he ever gave me. You'd think for all the money he got from me, he'd at least give me his full name. Joe, the collector.
Joe, the tormentor. Joe, the despot.
Mr. Logan, Joe.
Yes, I, I'm sorry.
All right then. When did you first meet this Joe, whoever he is?
When I, I first made such a fool of myself over Ruthie.
Ruthie Bartell?
I have no excuse for being a fool, but I also have suffered enough so I don't have to be kicked around anymore.
When is Joe finished?
Well, I, you see, back in those days, I, I saw Joe following me around and I realized that somebody had snapped a picture of Ruthie and me.
I was sure that Joe was a detective hired by my wife.
Of course, I stopped seeing Ruthie.
I died a thousand deaths waiting for the showdown.
But it never came, huh? Not for Mrs. Logan, is that it?
Yes, I was wrong about who we worked for, you see, because then I got a blackmail note presented to me by Joe. I was to pay and go on paying each month.
And you paid and paid.
What else could I do? I was already a failure as far as my wife is concerned. I didn't tell her, but I made bad, stupid deals and I gambled money away with a Carl Reese.
Reese?
Yes. Best I could only pay back half my debts, but if Mrs. Logan and Martha found out about Ruthie, she'd never forgive me. I couldn't let her know that, don't you see?
Well, didn't you suspect Bartell, Ruthie's husband?
I did, I, I did, but by then he was in prison. I didn't know what to think. And I decided Joe was the only blackmailer. I can't let Martha find out about Ruthie. The police mustn't time eat any of this. They mustn't.
I'm afraid that's sort of wishful thinking, Mr. Logan.
They'll find out that you just bought this new raincoat, that you burned your old one, and they'll be curious to say the least. You went right from the clay pits to Bartell's, ransacked his room, looking for the blackmail evidence, whatever that was. Isn't that right?
Yes, yes, you see, Joe got in touch with me yesterday afternoon. I thought I was all through paying him. He promised me I was, but you're never through, are you?
I'm afraid not, Mr. Logan.
He told me to come out to that, that little shack in the clay pits. That's where the payoff, payoff always took place out there, and when I got there he was dead. Shot to death.
What did you do?
Well, I, I suddenly realized just what an awful spot I was in. Bartell was trying to contact me. Perhaps he was the blackmailer, after all. So I had to find the evidence before the police found it.
And did you find it at Bartell's place?
No, not a trace of it. It wasn't on him either. Mr. Valentine, what can I do? How can I get out of this terrible mess?
I'm afraid there's only one thing you can do. Turn yourself over to the police and have the whole thing brought out into the open.
I can't? Martha will never believe me. She'll never forgive me.
George, look, there's a policeman coming over this way.
What's that? Oh, they'll never get me.
You'd be reasonable, Logan.
They won't. Hey, stop that. Wait.
Don't you stop me. Don't.
I'll get him.
No, George, the police will catch him.
Hey, hey, hey, wait.
Sorry, officer, I can't.
Hey, stop, I said.
You don't understand. That man will get away.
Yeah, but you're not getting away. You think that sign is just there for amusement?
Huh?
You're over parked here ten minutes, Mac. Have a ticket.
Don't worry, Valentine. The pickup order is out on Logan. He seems to be our man, all right.
Is there any additional information about this man, Joe, Sheriff?
Not much. Typical blackmailer, shifty, covered his tracks.
Anything on the gun?
We'll know when we find it. Thirty-eight. Two bullets fired.
Thanks, Sheriff.
Where are you going, George?
The sheriff's got his murder, but we still have a client, remember?
Gone?
Yeah.
My tail's gone.
If he beat it, it was just a minute ago.
What?
It's still warm. It must have been just turned off.
Where are we?
Okay, Bartell, slow down.
No. Let go of me. I'm not sticking around, Valentine. This place is too hot.
Blackmailer, you mean?
Huh?
Never heard the naughty word before, huh?
Okay, it has to do with Ruthie and Logan.
Ruthie? You mean that little... and Logan?
Well, I don't know anything about it. And you're not going to get me in the middle of it.
Nobody will!
Oh, now, I'm going to try again. But still...
And you're going to the Logan home with me, friend, after we pick up one more passenger.
Yes, I'm a gambler. Is there anything wrong with being a gambler?
Well, let's leave that to the kefava committee, Reese.
But Mr. Logan owed you a large gambling debt, didn't he?
As a matter of fact, he did.
He didn't pay it, huh?
Not yet.
Uh-huh. I think we'd better take a little trip to the Logan's, Mr. Reese.
This whole thing needs some clear light thrown on it.
He's gone. He's running from the police.
But where is he running?
Here, Mrs. Logan. Please drink some of this coffee.
Bartell and Reese are in the living room with one of the sheriff's men.
All right, Angel. We'll wait for the sheriff before we talk any more to them.
Thank you, my dear.
I wish I could cry like other women.
Cry for John and cry for me.
Cry because I must have failed him so awfully.
He couldn't come to me and talk to me.
You have no idea where he might have gone, Mrs. Logan?
No, no.
In the state of mind he was in, it would be better if the police knew where he was.
He came in and he told me all he's done about that Mrs. Bartell
and all the money he paid in blackmail and all the money he owes
as though money were the most important thing in the world.
He told me all that and...
and he cried.
Mr. Valentine, John isn't a murderer. That much I know.
I hope you're right.
I told him not to run, but he wouldn't listen to me.
He packed his bag and he kissed me and he ran out.
If they catch up with him and he tries to get away from them, they'll...
They'll...
All right, Mrs. Logan.
The evidence against your husband is quite strong, but maybe we can still help him.
Maybe...
Help?
Do you think we can?
Really?
Joe was a blackmailer. Mr. Logan was being blackmailed.
The obvious conclusion was that there was a fight and Mr. Logan killed him.
Well, then, George?
But suppose Mr. Logan was right and Joe was only the go-between
and Joe proved difficult to his employer, the real blackmailer.
But who could that be? How could we ever find that out?
Well, it could be Bartell. Even though he was in prison, he could have kept in contact with Joe.
All this business about coming here to get a job and going straight is so many lies.
Maybe you're right, Mr. Valentine.
Well, perhaps it was even somebody like Mr. Reese who was the real blackmailer.
Mr. Reese? Aren't you reaching a little now, George?
Oh, why? Mr. Logan had quite a bit of money, all right,
but not enough to pay all his legal debts and his gambling debt,
which, by the way, couldn't be collected legally.
So Mr. Reese could take a rather unorthodox but effective way of collecting his debt
by blackmailing the money out of your husband, Mrs. Logan.
And there could be others, then, who might possibly be the blackmailers.
John wouldn't be the only one with the motive for killing Joe.
Uh-huh, that's exactly what I meant.
Why, bring me here, Sheriff.
Never mind.
John!
They've caught up with him, George.
Well, this is it, Brooksie.
All right, Logan, just sit here.
John, John, are you all right?
I didn't do it. I didn't kill anybody. No one will believe me.
You already told me about his being blackmailed, and he was running.
And that makes him as good a suspect as we need, Valentine.
At this point, I don't know myself what to think.
John, John, you mustn't say that.
You can leave that release here, Logan. You won't need it anymore.
No. No, wait.
What?
You were holding onto that release for dear life.
There was no money on the dead blackmailer.
Here, let me see what's in it.
Hmm. Ties, rose shirts, underwear, pajamas, socks, extra suit.
Hmm. All nice and neat.
And 100 bedroom slippers and...
And what?
And a gun.
What? Gun?
A.38, two bullets missing.
No! John, there must be some awful mistake.
I have an idea. We'll find the gun is the one that killed Joe.
And then...
It'll put the final coffin nail in the case against you, Mr. Logan.
George! What did you say, Mr. Valentine?
Yes, you, Mrs. Logan.
Your husband was so afraid you might find out about him and Mrs. Bartel,
and still it was you who blackmailed him.
How can you say anything like that, George? Why would she do it?
Well, now that's two questions, Angel, and I think I have some pretty definite answers to both.
Well, come on, let's have them. What's all this?
Well, strangely enough, Sheriff, it's what you said about the balloon.
What's all this?
When you opened it, it intrigued me even more than the presence of the gun.
What's that?
Would you make sense?
All right, Mr. Logan is a man. More than that, a very upset and distraught man.
Yeah.
Would he stop to pack the police so carefully?
No, he'd just throw some things together.
Yeah, a woman packed that bag. She wanted you to run, Mr. Logan.
You're insane.
Think back, Mr. Logan. You didn't really pack that bag, now did you?
Well, I don't know. I guess maybe I didn't.
And since Mrs. Logan had the gun to put in, she's the one who used it on Joe, the man she hired as the go-between.
Any more proof, Valentine?
A woman identified the fat man running away from the clay pits is wearing a dark blue raincoat.
So what? Logan himself admitted he was there.
How could you tell the color in the dark?
That's right. And it was raining. We just looked black.
Only one woman could say what she did.
The wife who knew the color of the raincoat her husband wore.
And the reason you were out there, Mrs. Logan, is because you had that argument with Joe and you killed him.
Make him stop saying that, John. Please.
No, no. Let him go on.
I was wondering why you were so careful to point attention to your husband having to buy a new raincoat.
But what would be the motive, Valentine? A wife blackmailing her own husband?
Oh, we've discussed some unusual causes for blackmail before, haven't we, Mrs. Logan?
And you understood very well. A little matter of revenge.
Your husband failed you, squandered your money, played around, and you had to get your revenge.
And you did. Made his life a hell.
You didn't. Tell him you didn't.
And you got most of the money, too, didn't you? But you killed Joe.
And in desperation, tried to blame your husband for his murder, and you almost succeeded.
Arthur, Martha, don't let him go on saying that.
And now that we know what to look for, we'll find the money, Mrs. Logan.
Stop it! Stop!
Arthur.
Stop looking at me like that. You cheat. You silly fool.
I'm glad. Whatever torture I brought you, I'm glad. Do you understand? I hate you. Hate you!
George, there isn't any reason to stay here any longer.
A house can be so cold when hate has lived in it.
Here, Brooksy, we're going. I still have to straighten out something with my client.
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An apology?
Yeah, frankly, Bartell, I didn't buy that. I want to go straight, but somebody won't let me routine.
But then why did you go to work for me?
Mr. Valentine just has a deeper version to being led down the garden path.
Yep. Life is full of surprises, all right. You did come to Linfield just to see a kindly friend of the family.
Yeah. Ruthie was a doll, a real doll. But then look at Mrs. Logan, what she did to her husband. I'll tell you, I learned one thing.
Stay away from women, friend. All women. Far away.
You don't say.
Have nothing to do with them, especially those that look cute and smile sweet.
Uh, are you coming, George?
What's the matter, Angel? He doesn't mean you.
No, of course not.
Well, that's different. Hey, wait a minute. What's the matter with my smile?
Tonight's Adventure of George Valentine has been brought to you by Standard Oil Company of California on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West.
Robert Bailey is starred as George with Virginia Gregg as Brooksy.
Let George Do It was written by David Victor and Jackson Gillis and directed by Kenneth Webb.
Lee Patrick was heard as Mrs. Logan, Kenny Ross as Logan, Byron Cain as Bartel, Al K. Dawson as Reese, and Joe Forte as the sheriff.
The music is composed and presented by Eddie Dunstetter, your announcer, John Heston.
Listen again next week, same time, same station, to Let George Do It.
Let George Do It is heard overseas through the worldwide facilities of the Armed Forces Radio Service.
This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System.