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Jeff Regan 48-12-11 23 The Gambler And His Lady
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Jeff Regan 48-12-11 23 The Gambler And His Lady
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Ryan Seacrest
Ryan Seacrest here. When you have a busy schedule, it's important to maximize your downtime. One of the best ways to do that is by going to chumbacasino.com Chumba Casino has all your favorite social casino games like spin slots, bingo and solitaire that you can play for free for a chance to redeem some serious prizes. So hop on to chumbacasino.com now and live the Chumba life. Sponsored by Chumba Casino. No purchase necessary. VGW Group void where prohibited by law 21 plus terms and conditions apply. My name's Regan. I get 10 a day in expenses from a detective bureau run by a guy named Anthony J. Lyon. They call me the Lion's Eye. With Jack Webb as Jeff Regan. The Lion's Eye. Standby for hard boiled action and mystery and thrilling adventure in tonight's story of the gambler and his lad. You find it in Hollywood on Taft Avenue. Four story apartment building the color of a rainy afternoon. They call it the Haven Wood. It sags in the middle like a tired frankfurter. That's where I live. Apartment 3K. Two rooms with a pull down bed and a pair of windows that stick when it's hot. Oh, the view isn't much. Six strands of telephone wire and the head of a shaved off palm tree. Beyond is the city, Louisiana, spread out on the map like a raw egg with a broken yolk. Oh, the town's all right, I guess, if you can afford the sedatives. The lion likes it. He set himself up as a receiving clerk for trouble and I work for him. It was about 11:15 when my phone began making itself felt. Turned out to be the lion breathing hard. It figured he was running his fingers over a green bag. Reagan. Wanna hear the sound of a brand new fifty dollar bill, send me a record. What's the matter? You sound like you're flat on your back. How do you sleep? Who's sleeping? I'm working. And that's what you're gonna be doing. Try me tomorrow. Throw on some clothes. You're going down to Venice Boulevard to see a lady. She's got daughter trouble. Well, marry her off. She didn't pay us 50 bucks for that. The problem goes deeper. How much? She'll tell you. I want it from you. I don't know it all for sure. Don't you ever check into things? I do the general work. You get the details. Yeah. You drag a wet rag over the 15. If the ink stays on, we got a client. That's insulting. How would you know, Regan? You don't want to keep a lady waiting. Now get a move on. Give me the name. This is Eleanor Bask of Pierpont Hotel. Yeah, and phone me after you talk to her. What for? I want to be sure it's legit. Do you care? Better make that call to me tomorrow after 10. I'm sort of going to be tied up till then. Doing what? Sleeping. Well, I put on some clothes, picked up my car and moved out to Venice Boulevard. The Good Humor men were all gone and I had the street to myself. Twenty minutes later, I came to a stop beside a garbage can near San Pedro. Behind it stood the Pierpont Hotel, a two deck pile of wood left over from the sinking of the Spanish Armada. There was a black and dirty white sign outside said rooms 50 cents weekly and monthly rates. The names Eleanor and Georgia Bascom showed in the mailbox and gave a room 210. I climbed a flight of stairs and walked down a hall that looked like a in a pyramid. It was dark and it took my cigarette lighter to turn up. The numbers 210 finally showed and I rapped on the door. A bush of black and gray hair pulled it open. It was wearing a red kimona and an impatient look, like a tax collector in January. She was pushing 50 and looked tired. Yes? I'm Regan, international detective. Oh, yes. The Lion's Eye. I've been waiting for you. Come in. I'm Mrs. Bascom. Eleanor or Georgia? Georgia's my daughter. I want to apologize for getting you out here this time of night, Mr. Regan, but it's urgent. The lion said that the girl's the problem, huh? Yes. How old is she? 22. Who's the man? How'd you know there was a man? What other kind of trouble would she go after? She's a good girl, Mr. Regan. She always has been until now. That's what I want to know. She's old enough to call her plays. That's not the advice I'm paying for. Where'd you get the 50? It took a lot of saving. All right, give me his name. Louie Desmond. Gambler? Card sharp. Bookie all around con man. He's got a car. Draw him out toward Gardena someplace. The Five Aces Club. What does your daughter see in him? Oh, it's this place. The way we have to live. She's tired of having nothing. I've tried, but she's looking for a change. I'm taking a wrong turn. I'm not sure yet. Yeah, other girls have it real tough. They go to work. Well, we had a little trouble in the family. Once it shows up, if someone starts looking. When can I talk to Georgia? You'll have to work that out yourself, Mr. Regan. What does that mean? She put some clothes in a suitcase and left earlier this evening. That's why I had to call you so suddenly. Where'd she go? Louie is a real bum, Mr. Regan. You talk like you know him. We've met. I want to know just what's going on. If Louie's forcing her into anything crooked, she force easy a fur coat. Makes a young girl do a lot of things. Yeah. Oh, here's a picture of her. You may need it. Not very good, but the only one I've got. I'll make it work. That's about all, Mr. Regan. Get in touch with me as soon as you get something. Okay. Oh, Mr. Regan. Yeah? As you can tell, I'm the kind of person who sometimes gets hysterical over things. But I'm also the kind who demands results. You sound like a radio commercial. It was after midnight when I followed the fog out Vermont toward Gardena. The yellow lights were pressing, but they were doing about as much good as a pint of bourbon at a Shriners convention. I wound around the flatland for a while before the Five Aces Club turned up by a bend in the road. Looked like a blue wart with a neon sign. There was a front door and a back one and a couple of pairs of shoulders standing at each. A little guy in a pinstripe gray was figuring the size of the wallets going in. Louie Desmond's office showed at the top of the stairway and I moved for it, but a muscle looking down on six feet was playing frontman. He put a knotted hand on my arm and when he spoke it sounded like a gear factory doing double time. Slow down, pilgrim. The room you're looking for is the other way. Yeah? Well, this one says office. That's the trouble with you guys who read. Can't take hints. Spell it out. Not until I see Louis Desmond. What's your business? I'll tell it to him. You owe him some dough. No, I don't. Then he ain't interested. He will be. Weston Jr. Come on, get him off of me. Plot. Hey, what's all the noise, Pattine? Sightseer without a ticket. My name's Regan. Cop? Maybe. You want me to bounce him down the stairs, boss? Maybe. What do you want? Talk. That's always a waste of time. Not if it's about Georgia. Bascom. Come on in. Never saw you around here before, Regan. No, I Can't afford it. Oh, don't say that. Some people go out of here with more than they come in with. Yeah, you guess you're right at that. Cigar? No, thanks. Well, what about Georgia, Regan? You tell me. That doesn't add you came to see me. She's got a worried mother. They're all like that now. This one figures you're doing a little forcing. Oh, you'd know more about that. Give me a clue. Blackmail, maybe. You're a kick Arthur Godfrey. Love to get a hold of you, I come too high. Let me give you some good advice. Go home and pull a blanket over your head and say it's all a bad dream. You know, you talk a lot, mister, but you don't say much. What's the hold on Georgia? All right, wise guy. Anain, come over here, baby. Regan, do you know this girl? I've seen a picture. Georgia. This is a peeper named Regan. He come to rescue you. But what for, Mr. Regan? $50. My mother gave you that to come and take me back? Something like that. But I can't go. Why not? Well, go ahead. Show him, baby. Look, Regan. Three carats with a wedding band to match. On what dice table did you pick those up? Stop the noise, Regan. Congratulate the lady. Not on a bad mistake. Listen, Shammis. Oh, never mind him, Louie. He doesn't matter. When did the furs come? Louie said soon. Tell Mama we're married and not to worry. We're going away for a few days and Seattle for some gambling and fishing. You won't enjoy it. Sure I will. You'll be in la. The alley behind the Five Aces Club hadn't been dusted in a week. My brown flannel suit fixed that. Well, I picked myself up and made it for the car. Moving north on Vermont, I tried to add a couple of things. There was a funny smell in Louie's office when I first walked in. Like rope on fire. Somebody'd been there before me who smoked cubebs. Desmond worked on cigars. Georgia held a king sized Pall Mall. Well, whoever it was still played it co. About one o' clock I started raising a small campaign with a lion's door knocker. His dream must have been a real good one because it took him 10 minutes to get to the door. He was wearing a nightgown. He looked like a poor imitation of the Fisk Tire ad. All that was missing was the candle. Regan, I told you not to bother me until after 10am it's no bother. Get out of here. Let a man Sleep. Your dreams will be bad. What do you mean? You just lost a client. What's the matter? The money. Phony. Georgia Bascom married Desmond. There's nothing I can do about it. Well, think of something. Say you married her first. Out of your mind. So It's a bad idea. Get a good. Yeah, I already have. What is it? You give Mrs. Bascom her case back. You can't do that. Try me. Think a minute, Regan. She's come to us for help. A lonely woman with no place to turn, entrusts her trouble to International. You got that 50 spent. It's not the money. It's the moral obligation. Oh, stop it, will you? You don't give blood anymore. Since you found out somebody'd pay for it. You're getting out of line. You're the only guy in town who can turn a shaving cut into a bank roll. That's enough. Step into the world of power, loyalty and luck. I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse. With family. Cannolis and spins mean everything. Now you want to get mixed up in the family business. Introducing the godfather@champacasino.com test your luck in the shadowy world of the Godfather slots. Someday I will call upon you to do a service for me. Play the Godfather now@shambacasino.com Welcome to the family. No purchase necessary. VGW Group void. We're prohibited by law 21 + terms and conditions apply. Well, let's do it this way. You go over to Mrs. Bascom and give her the lowdown. Let her decide if she wants you to carry on or not. We sure go to a lot of trouble for a 50. I need a lot of new stuff around the place. Well, it's close to Christmas, right? To Santa Claus. Well, I left the lion looking for a fountain pen, and I drove out to Venice Boulevard in the Pierpont Hotel. The place still looked the same. A black Nash was parked up the block, the motor going. A couple of cats were doing a duet on a garbage camp. I climbed the stairs to the second floor, and I started down the hall for 2:10, walking real easy to keep the boards from creaking. But somebody else didn't care about the noise. There was a gun with a silencer working in Mrs. Bascom's room. I pushed the door in, but by then all I could hear was silence. The light showed an open window by the fire escape, and the wind was blowing the curtains. Mrs. Bascom lay face down on the bed, real still, and the holes in her blanket Were turning wet. The lion really lost a client that time. Well, it didn't take Sanducci and the boys long to get there. The fingerprint man and the photographers went to work in the room. Sanducci picked me. He had a grouch on like a fat lady in an upper berth. What's the matter, Regan? You get lost? What do you mean? You're pretty far from home. Well, I get around. Who is she? Her name's Eleanor Bascom. I know that. What she do? Where she come from? I don't know. What were you doing out here? She called in the Lion. Her daughter ran off with Louie Desmond. Oh. He in it? How far? Ask him. Mrs. Bascom want you to bring her daughter back. She wanted to know if the girl was moving into a racket. Was she? I haven't found out. I should have known better than to ask a detective. Why didn't she call us? She was behind on her taxes. What do you do? Private sit up nights figuring ways to make my job harder. You through with me? No. Who killed her, Eagle? I dunno. Bad choice of words. Go check a black Nash parked up the street. Got a license now? No, I haven't. Thanks a lot. Look, I'm no medium. I didn't know she was marked. Any other big ideas? A few. Well, keep them to yourself. They're all wrong. Now get out of here. Yeah. Say, Santucci. Yeah? The lion can handle another client now. So what? Wanna sign up? Well, I went home and slept. Coffee and warmed over biscuits at the drugstore. Took care of breakfast the next morning. Then I checked the phone book. Louie Desmond's home address turned up on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. And so I drove out. There was on a corner, a two story colonial place with white pillars and green shutters. The doorbell sounded like a second chorus at the Hollywood Bowl. A Japanese maid let me in and I waited in the anteroom. That's when I caught that peculiar smell again. Somebody had just been there. Who smoked those Cubeb cigarettes? Well, a couple minutes later, a tall blonde fighting 30 stepped up to me. She smelled like she just crawled out of a bottle of Plateen. It was a bright morning, but she had the kind of look that had you wishing for an eclipse. Well, what do you want? Louie Desmond, census taker. No. What's he done? I don't know yet. Where is he? I don't know where he is. He didn't come home last night. Lots of work at the office card room out in Gardena. Lots of work out there. He didn't say he doesn't tell me everything. Should he? Depends on what you think of your marriage vows. Who are you? His wife. Want a drink, mister? Sure. What'll it be? Yours. Bourbon. You poor. I don't know when to stop. All right. Here you go. To marriage. It's a mess. Cigarette? Never touch him. Interferes with my drinking. Who smokes the cube abs? Is that what that stuff is? Yeah. That little guy walked in here looking for Louie and smelled up the place. Hiya, Stella. Oh, hello, Patsy. Just in time for a drink. Company? Yeah. What's your name? Fellow he knows. You earn hard, don't you, Regan? What's going on? He's an eye. So what? So he gets a bounce. He's my friend. Beat it, Seamus, or I'll split. You stay right where you are. This is my house and I'll entertain who I want with the boss's liquor. I've got some. Right. Well, figure out what they are and try them on the boss. I don't like you, Patsy. Beat it, people. Take your paws off of me. Come on, get them off. Stop it, Py. Stop it, I said. Well, you hit him pretty hard, lady. No, I didn't. His head soft. Well, I left her picking up pieces of glass and I drove back toward Hollywood. I was moving east on Sunset, trying to make some sense out of Desmond's domestic life, when I spotted that black sedan again. It was doing a real bad tag job on me. I pushed the pedal closer to the floor, but the sedan had better gas. It caught me going around a bend past Beverly Glen and started pushing me. Oh, it was a great place for a boulevard stop, but none showed. All it did was a reflection in my rear view mirror of the driver in the black sedan. It was feminine and the voice spelled out Georgia Bascom. That's when she moved in for a close, closer look. You are listening to the story of the gambler and his ladies. Tonight's adventure with Jeff Regan, investigator. Listen, this is good news. Good news for you. If you're between the ages of 20 and 26 and a half, married or single, a high school graduate, and want to fly for the United States Air Force. Yes, the Air Force Aviation Cadet Program is offering you the opportunity to become a pilot officer in the mightiest air force in history, you can be one of the Air Force's men of renown. And there's more offered than the pride you feel in being a member of America's flying team. For after your 52 weeks of training, you will graduate as a second lieutenant in the Air Force with an income of more than $300 per month. Remember, the Air Force offers you what it offered. General Jimmy Doolittle, General Carl Spaatz, and General Hoyt Vandenberg. Now, at 42, the Air Force chief of staff. Call at your local army and Air Force recruiting station. Tomorrow. Apply to become an aviation cadet. And now back to the story of the gambler and his ladies and Jeff Regan, investigator. Well, things were moving as fast as the last reel in a Western movie. The lion sent me out to see a lady who was having daughter trouble. Georgia Bascom had done a tie in with a gambler named Louie Desmond, only it looked real permanent. She was wearing his wedding ring. Then the mother ended up carrying a couple of bullets and Homicide moved in. That's when I met a blonde at Desmond's house who said she was Louie's wife. Well, I was working on the mess when a black sedan with Georgia at the wheel ran me off the road and the slugs began to fly. I peeled myself off the side of the hill and I got in touch with the police. San Ducci took over and invited me to headquarters for some more talk. They put me in a little room with pale green walls and sat behind a big desk chewing a dead cigar. It was taking me all in, like a Hoover vacuum cleaner on a dirty rug. Well, how do you feel, Regan? All right. You shouldn't. Why not? Looks to me like from here on in, you're a marked man. Well, I'll get along. It'll be really interesting to see how. All right. Now, look. Have you got something to say? Maybe. Well, let's hear it. Relax, Regan. You're not going anyplace. You can't hold me. I was the one who got shot at. Well, that's enough. I'll work out a way to hold you for creating a disturbance. It won't work. Listen, you. The bullets we pulled out of your upholstery match the ones in Mrs. Bascom. So what? So we figure she was knocked off because she knew something somebody didn't want said. We also figured that applies to you. Yeah, well, I'd get you nothing it. All right, Regan, play it your way. This time you'll come running back when the haters close in. Don't make book on it. Well, if you got to get yourself knocked off, don't mess up our city's three. Yeah, I'll be real careful. Oh, and wear a dark suit that. Save our morticians a little trouble. That all? Yeah, go on, be it. Sure. Oregon. Yeah. Buffet. What's that mean, your father's mustache? Well, it was late afternoon by the time I walked out of headquarters. The sun was still working, but it was cold. The cab driver, with a lot of conversation, drove me to my place over on Taft. When I opened my front door, I smelled it again. Those Q. Babs. A small face was sitting on my sofa, sucking on him. It belonged to a guy who had to stand on a box to see over a fox terrier. When I shut the door behind me, he ground the cigarette into an ashtray and turned on a nervous look, like a pig in a football factory. Your landlady Let me in, Mr. Regan. I hope you don't mind. I have to talk to you. We met before. We did? I don't remember. Just me and your cigarettes. Ah. Oh, you mind if I smoke? You just finished one. Oh, yeah. Yes, yes, so I did. May I have a drink, then? Just a small one. All right. Thank you. I generally don't drink, but tonight I thank you. Now, I barely know where to begin. Well, you better figure it out. You haven't got much time. Yes, well, start with a name. Is that necessary? Yeah, it is. Loper. Max Loper. I'm a businessman. What kind? What kind? Oh, furrier. Yeah. Yeah, I'm a furrier, Mr. Regan. All sorts of furs. Ermine's nice. Generally, I prefer sable, but it depends on the woman, you know? What does Georgia get? I beg pardon? Let it go. I'm not the man I used to be, Mr. Regan. My fortunes have changed. Yeah, yeah, changed. I. I think I better have that cigarette. Save it for later and start making sense. Well, I need help. Why come to me? Well, Mrs. Bascom thought enough of you to ask you to help her. You see, I know Mrs. Bascom. That is, I. No, Mrs. Bascom. Her death was so sudden, it was forced. Yes, so the papers say. But, Mr. Regan, I want you to know I didn't do it. Who said you did? Well, nobody yet, but I didn't do it. Look, why tell me? There's nobody else I can tell. Try the police. No, no, no. That's what I can't do. I want you to prove to them that I wouldn't do a thing like that. Loper, what's your tie in with? Desmond? Desmond? Why, there is no tie in. You were at his card room. I smelled your cigarettes there. You got nothing, I guess. And you went to his house. Mr. Regan. That's got nothing to do with it. I think different. But you're wrong, all wrong. Convince me. I didn't do the murder. That's what I want you to tell the police. Who did? I don't know. Well, now I think you do. Come on. Who killed George's mother? It was her stepmother who was killed. Give me some more. Oh, you got me all confused. I guess coming to you for help was a bad idea. Something was. I'll find somebody else who doesn't ask so many questions. I better go. No, no, not yet, little man, you got too many answers. Take your hands off me, Mr. Regan. I never used one of these. But the theory is simple. Just pull the trigger if you can find it. Don't urge me. Open the door. Go on. Sure. Now, step away. See you later, Mr. Regan. Hello. He made it to the staircase and then the noise came. A couple of bullets flew up the spiral and caught him in the chest. He stopped in midair for a second like a yo yo on a string. And then he toppled over and rolled down. By the time I got to him, he was all used up. Well, McCall and the homicide brought some of the boys out and they took care of them. A fat guy with a head like a plunger took him pictures for a paper and a girl with a leaky fountain pen got the story. Took about an hour and a half to clear my place. But the minute the crowd moved out, the lion moved in. He had a sheet of paper in one hand and his face was lit up like an old maid at a cocktail party. This concerns Louie Desmond and Georgia Bascom. You interested? Yeah. Desmond's got a wife, and her name's not Georgia. No, it's Stella. And she's a ripe candidate for a drunk tank. What else do you know about her? She's jealous. Well, there's no record any place of a divorce or of a marriage between Georgia and Desmond. That whole setup's a phony. Tell me why. George's father, named Peter Bascom, was a furrier and he was once in on a fur job with the same Louis Desmond. Go on. The old Bascom ended up with a bullet in him and Louie with a pile of dough. How did it work? I can't find out everything. You gotta do something. You know a Max Loper? Never heard of him. You got an address on this Georgia? Well, Arena Hotel, room 406. And Catalina, half Wilshire. All right. The way I figured, an insurance company might be real interested to get hold of her. No, the gas chamber's got priority. We figured the swindled first, collect the fat bonus, then let the city handle her any way it wants. Call me when you get it all sewed up. What are you going to be doing? Resting at home. I'm all war now. Yeah. Well, that figures. You've been doing a little thinking. The Lorena Hotel. Six stories of plush carpet and gold paint. It was night when I got there, and the neon was on. The buzzer. Brought the door open and Georgia Bascom stood there carrying an overcoat. She had her purse under her arm and it figured she was leaving. When she saw me, she turned on a surprised look. Oh, Mr. Regan. Moving out? Just a little errand. It'll keep. Shut the door. Now, see here. Well, that's a lot of nerve. Don't let it bother you. They're bigger things. Like what? A fur job you and Louie are working on. What are you talking about? And a little murder. Throw your purse on the sofa. I will not. Come on, lady. It's getting heavy. Now. Open the closet door. Come on. There. I hope you're satisfied. I'm not much on fashions. Read them to me. Three airmen, three sable, 10,000 apiece. More max. Loafers. Yeah. Well, you can't wear them all. You got a friend. I don't need one. All right, sis, what is it? Nothing. That's your version. You could be wrong. When did you marry Desmond? Last week. Bad answer. He's got a wife named Stella. Bigamy will get him in trouble. That's his problem. No, it's yours, too, if the courts can prove you knew. All right, I didn't marry him. Then why the wedding ring? Hey, you ask a lot of questions. Yeah, I do. Why don't you get out of here? Louie's not new on fur jobs. He knows how much work it is to palm him off. You're talking to yourself. Loper never got to outlive a double cross. What are you gonna do with that? Nothing. Homicide will work it out. I didn't kill anybody. You'll work up a sweat proving it. Louie did it. Honest. He killed my stepmother because she knew how the job worked. He gave it to Loafer, too. He would. Hiya, friends. It must be raining. The worms are coming to the top. Hello, Louie. Regan's got it figured out. I was just stalling him till you got here. Sure, Georgia, I know. Honestly, honest, I didn't mean to say you did the knockoffs. We'll talk about it later. Better finish it now. You're not gonna be around. We'll see. They got a spot all staked out for you up north. Isn't that interesting? Regan, I got a set of Instructions for you. I want you to be real nice and follow them. What's in it for me? You kill me, Seamus. I'm holding all the cards you want to rake in the pot. I better get going. Lily, we shouldn't be seen together right now. Slow down, baby. I got something for you, too. But, Lily. Big mouth. Big mouth. Lucky you didn't have to hit her more than once. She got off easy. Everybody's got 32 teeth. Desmond moved us out of the apartment down the hall. Georgia was beginning to sob, but Desmond wasn't impressed. He held the gun under his coat and walked behind us, careful, like an elephant on a crate of eggs. The button brought the elevator and the three of us went in. And then it started down. When the door swung open on the first floor, a whip of bourbon came floating in, packing a.32. Louie turned white. Still. Still. I told him if he kept messing around, he was gonna have trouble at home. Want to give me the gun? No. What's your name, girly? Georgia. Were you in love with Louie? I. I don't know. Well, go find out. You want it now, Regan? It's empty. You know, lady, you fixed nothing. What do you mean? Where you're going, you'll all be together again. Well, it was all over fast, like a dol dinner. The coroner's office sent out some boys for Georgia and Louie and Sanducci picked up Stella. Desmond had himself a pretty good thing do a tie in with a furrier and move the furs across the border with nobody making a fuss. All it was slow work, but 10,000 a week's pretty good pay and it was real safe. Loper wasn't going to say the furs were even stolen until they were turned into money. Of course, he never got to say it at all. Everything would have been all right if Stella didn't see green every time Louie saw blonde. Well, the insurance company thanked us for what we did to expose the fraud. The lion was unhappy, he said they should have shown their gratitude with something more lasting. They gave it to him. A 1949 pocket calendar. Jack Webb is featured as Jeff Regan with Herb Butterfield as Anthony J. Lyons. Hit CBS at the same time next week for more hard boiled action and mystery with Jeff Regan, investigator, written by Larry Roman, Produced by Sterling Tracy. Included in tonight's cast were Mary Lansing, Marvin Miller, Pat McGinn, Laurette Philbrandt, Jack Petruzzi, Yvonne Patey and Sydney Miller. Original music for this program is by Milton Charles. Bob Stevenson speaking. This is cbs, the Columbia Broadcasting. Hello. It is Ryan and I was on a flight the other day playing one of my favorite social spin slot games on chumbacasino.com I looked over the person sitting next to me and you know what they were doing? They were also playing Chumba Casino. Coincidence? I think not everybody's loving having fun with it. 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