← The Great Detectives of Old Time Radio| Daily Mystery Dramas
The Great Detectives of Old Time Radio| Daily Mystery Dramas
Yours Truly Johnny Dollar: The Broderick Matter Omnibus (EP4646s)
01:18:25
Today's Mystery: Johnny looks for an insurance beneficiary for a policy with a heartwarming story, and finds disillusionment in the course of a coast-to-coast search. Original Radio Broadcast Dates: November 14-18, 1955 Originating from Hollywood...
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Nikki Glaser
This is Nikki Glaser from the Nikki Glaser Podcast. On a more serious note, I'm still thinking about that commercial with Tom Brady and Snoop Dogg hating on each other, because when you listen to the reasons for hating someone or something, you realize just how stupid they really are. There is too much hate in this country and it's gotta stop. So join us at iHeart in standing up to it. If you see hate, speak up, call it out and you can learn more by following oupwith Hate. Hi, I'm Matt. And I'm Leah and we're from the Grown Up Stuff Podcast. And just in time for on this week's episode, we're chatting with CPA Lisa Green Lewis about how small businesses can tackle their taxes using TurboTax Business. A Forbes study mentioned that a whopping.
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Johnny Dollar
93% of small businesses overpay their taxes.
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Nikki Glaser
And 17% of Gen Zers believed that you could write off any expense as a business expense. So can't blame them. It's really important to do your taxes right. Listen to Grown up stuff on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your favor. Podcasts grow.
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Johnny Dollar
Welcome to the Great detectives of Old Time Radio from Boise, Idaho. This is your host, Adam Graham. In a moment we are going to bring you our final Listener Support Appreciation special which will be a yours truly Johnny Dollar Serial omnibus. But first, I do want to encourage you if you enjoy this podcast, to please follow us using your favorite podcast software. And of course, this is part of our Listener Support and Appreciation campaign and you can become one of our ongoing Patreon supporters for as little as $2 per month by going to patreon.greatdetectives.net now this serial was originally broadcast over an entire Week from November 14th to 18th of 1955. Here is the Broadrick matter.
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Nikki Glaser
Hi, I'm Matt. And I'm Leah and we're from the Grown Up Stuff Podcast. And just in time for tax season, on this week's episode we're chatting with CPA Lisa Green Lewis about how small businesses can tackle their taxes using TurboTax Business. A Forbes study mentioned that a whopping.
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Johnny Dollar
93% of small businesses overpay their taxes.
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Nikki Glaser
And 17% of Gen Zers believed that you could write off any expense as a business expense. So can't blame them. It's really important to do your taxes right. Listen to Grown up stuff on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your favorite podcasts. Geico's Motorcycle expertise gives me the coverage I need. Like 247 claims. I'm on cloud nine. Disclaimer. Clouds are wholly unable to support the weight of an adult human. What's happening? Furthermore, clouds are not numbered. Even if you procured a jetpack and searched, you'd find no cloud number nine. However, at that altitude, you'd likely befriend a flock of migrating snow geese.
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Johnny Dollar
Geese who'd encourage you to leave your.
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Nikki Glaser
24.7Geico motorcycle claims insurance behind as they would take you in and even share their dinner of crickets and clovers with you. GEICO assumes no liability for any indigestion that may occur from a clover cricket dinner. Geico expertise for your motorcycle from Hollywood. It's time now for Johnny Dollar. My name's Steel, Mr. Dollar. Claims Division, Eastern Trust Insurance Company. Steel. You don't know me, Mr. Dollar. People at Universal Adjustment suggested I contact you. Thought you might be interested in helping me pay off a claim. Okay, tell me about it. Mr. Steele, one of our policyholders passed away last month and we can't seem to locate his beneficiary. She just doesn't seem to be around. Maybe she doesn't want the money. Everybody wants money, Mr. Dollar. Especially insurance money. Be there in an hour tonight and every weekday night. Bob Bailey in the transcribed Adventures of the man with the Action Packed Expense Account. America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Expense accounts submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Dollar. To the Eastern Trust Insurance Company Claims Division, Hartford, Connecticut. The following is an accounting of expenditures during my investigation of the Broderick matter. Expense account, item one, 25 cents. Bus fare. My apartment to the Easton Trust Insurance Building in the office of Robert Steele. He was a big, sandy haired man in a tweed suit. We shook hands, looked each other over and then got down to business. Now, Mr. Dollar, the deceased policyholder was named John Smith. John Adams Smith, age 67. Died in City Hospital, Charity Ward, 22nd of last month. Death certificate? Mm. Pneumonia and other things. What other things? The intern who signed that certificate said Smith was pretty run down. Evidences of malnutrition, possible TB history not noted here. Mr. Steele? Doesn't make any difference. Smith was able to stand the exam for the policies when they were issued in 1943. You got him there? Yes. 1500 total beneficiary, Lorraine Broderick. She the one you can't locate? She's the one. Any other possible heirs, family or anyone? No, Smith was all alone. No problems there. Any other material that might help define Lorraine Broderick? Now, this stuff here, it Might help you. I don't know. I just don't know. You sound discouraged, Mr. Steele. $1,500 isn't a lot of money. And the chances are Lorraine Broderick won't even remember John Adam Smith when you do find her. But I hope you do. I. I'm explaining this badly. Look here. You see? Mm. And here and here. It's the same all through the book. Smith was absolutely religious about his payments. Never missed a one. Never let it slide one day. Now I bet I've got the record of 20,000 policy buyers. But none of them reads like that. I'm impressed, Mr. Steele. Can you tell me why Smith died in a charity ward? If he was this conscientious? He didn't have any money or friends or home. He made his living selling papers. We wouldn't have known about his death except for the fact that the coroner's office called us. What can you tell me about his beneficiary? Lorraine Broderick was just someone who stopped and talked to him one day while he was selling papers. She was 11 years old at the time. She what? Yes. The agent who sold the policies used to buy his papers from the old boy. One day Smith stopped him and said he wanted to do something nice for a nice little girl named Lorraine Broderick. So he began taking out the policies. The agent have any more background on that part of it? No. Lorraine Broderick met Smith that one afternoon and helped him sell his newspapers. Smith never saw her again after that. 1943. She must be 23 or so now. Well, I hope she grew up to be the kind of person he thought she was then. Hardly any of us fill out the promise we have at 11 years, Mr. Steele. Then. That isn't what I mean. I mean, if he met her that one day when she was a little girl and he made this gesture toward her and it was tough for him to make those payments all those years. I hope she deserves it. Her money doesn't mean anything. But that kind of endorsement from somebody. Even an old bird who sells papers on a corner is worth more than all the money in the world. Does that sound foolish, Mr. Dollar? Not a bit, Mr. Steele. Not a bit. Expense account item two. $2. Cab fare to Lorraine Broderick's last known address, 1485 Cushing Street. A broken down apartment house that had probably never seen better days or better neighbors. The owner and manager of the building recalled that Paul and Mary Broderick, parents of Lorraine, had been killed in an automobile accident in 1948. The manager did not know what had become of Lorraine. She had moved out of the apartment two days after the funeral. No forwarding address, expense account item 3. Four bits more cabin this time, seven blocks away to Pulaski street and a dingy cluster of red brick buildings that were yielding slowly to time and wear. I arrived at three on the dot. I don't think high schools ever change much. At least this one was no different than the one I'd been in way back when the persistent smell of pencil sharpeners inked discarded lunch wrappings. Yes? Sister Mary Regina? Yes, may I help you? Good afternoon, Sister. My name's Johnny Dollar. I wonder if I could talk to you a moment, Darla. Yes. Are you sure you shouldn't be speaking to Sister Amadea in the grade school? I don't believe we have any students named Darla. Oh, no, Sister. I don't have any children in school here. I've been hired by Eastern Trust Insurance Company to locate a beneficiary on one of their insurance policies. I thought perhaps you might help me. Well, I'll try, Mr. Darling. I took a chance and came here because it was the nearest high school to the girls at dress. Her name is Lorraine Broderick. Lorraine Broderick? Yes. The last trace I have of her was in 1948. She was about 17 then. Possibly still in school. Possibly this school. Lorraine Broderick. Sound familiar, Sister? In a way, yes. Oh, there are so many. So many, Mr. Darby. Yeah, I just met about 3,000 of them out in the hall. Yes, I know. 1948, Benson, Brady, Broderick. Lorraine Mary Broderick. Yes, Mr. Dolly. Your guess was very good. She was here in St. Charles from 1945-48. Yes. I wonder if there's an address listed there. Home address, 1120 Seton Place. Oh, my, that's quite far from here. Parents deceased, guardian. Oh. Anything wrong, Sister? Why, I remember Lorraine now, Mr. Dollar. Her parents were killed in an automobile accident in her senior year. Yes, and she went to live with her uncle, James Broderick, at this seat and address. Oh, yes, yes, I remember that. Lovely girl. She was in Sister Hildegard's class. That ties up with what I know about her so far, Sister. Oh, I remember her so clearly. I can even see her face. Perhaps that was it. Her face like an angel's. Gentle and fresh and wonderful. The man who left her the insurance money must have thought the same as you do, Sister. He saw her one day when she was 11. Oh, I have an annual from that year, Mr. Dollar. Would you like to see Lorraine? Yes, go ahead. Yes, here we are. That's Lorraine Broderick. Beautiful, isn't she? Sister Mary Regina pointed to a group picture on one of the pages. It was labeled Girl Sodality. Lorraine Broderick was in the first row. One of 30 or 40 self conscious little girls wearing identical self conscious expressions. Her hair appeared to be deep brown or black, her features soft and slightly cherubic. Undeniably, Lorraine Broderick had been a beautiful young girl. In all probability, she was a beautiful young woman wherever she was. By 5 o'clock I'd been to her uncle's address on Seton Place. There I learned that Uncle James Broderick had died of a heart attack in 1950. The people at the address reported that Lorraine had lived with him up until the time of his death. She had worked in a dentist's office. They told me as far as they knew she still worked there. I made a phone call. Yes, sir. Johnny Dollar. Mr. Steele. Oh, how are you going on Lorraine Broderick? Well, I might need some help. Have you got a man? Sure. I've got her traced up to 1950 Steele. She worked for a dentist here in town. Probably got her job in his office right out of high school. That meant she pretty well had to get it through a professional agency. That sounds reasonable. I got a man to check the agencies in town that specialize in that. Let me know. The next day I was back in St. Charles High School making up a list of names and addresses belonging to students who had been in Lorraine Broderick's graduation class. Out of the 10 names I chose at random, I was able to locate only two. Both girls, both married, both remembered Lorraine Broderick. Neither of them had seen her since graduation. Neither of them was able to furnish any helpful information. Expense account, item five. 10 cents. One phone call. Steal again. You want to take this down? $. Yeah. Okay. David Pollard. That's Dr. David Pollard. 2950 Tremol Lane. Lorraine Broderick went to work for him as a receptionist in 1949. Got it? Got it. What's his office address? Suite 210, Majestic Building. I got there about a quarter of six. There was no receptionist on duty. As a matter of fact, no reception desk. A stern looking nurse in a rumple white uniform knew nothing of a Lorraine Broderick who might have worked for Doctor. Doctor was working with a patient. If I cared to wait for Doctor. Yes? Yes, what is it? My name's Dollar. I'm with the Eastern Trust Insurance Company. I don't need any today, Mr. Dollar. I'm not looking for a sale, Doctor. What? That's right. I'm trying to find a friend of yours. Who are you talking about? Lorraine Broderick. Oh. How is Lorraine these days? I don't know, Doctor. I'd like to meet her and find out. Well, you're looking in the wrong place. I can't help you. She hasn't been around here for a couple of years. Bye. Oh, wait. Well, what now? Well, you've got an awful big chip on your shoulder, Doctor. You won't even let me explain my business. I'm not interested in your business. I can tell you mine's been going on since 8 o'clock this morning and I'm pretty tired. You finished now? Well, yes. Can I take you downstairs and buy you a drink? Sorry. What is it you want to know where I can get in touch with her? I don't know. She quit without notice a couple of years ago. Just didn't come back. Too bad, too. Do you have any idea where she might have gone? Just what is this for? To pay her some money we owe her. We can't locate her anywhere. I'm sorry, but neither can I. Are you still trying? Not anymore. All I know is she just left one day about two years ago. She had a little apartment over on the west side. The manager told me she'd pulled out bag and baggage and I haven't heard from her since. Were you on good terms with her, Doctor? Doctor, I'll take the drink. Don't misunderstand me, $. She was a real sweet girl, but there was something about her. I don't know. I hope you find her. Or maybe I don't. What are you talking about? She had plans of her own. Plans she never told me about. Look, I was in practice three years when she came to work for me. Fresh out of high school, with all of it, she still made me feel like a little boy in knee pants. That smile of hers you could take two ways and the look that went with it. I'm sure she's met a lot of men since she walked out on me. And I'll bet all of them have found out the same thing. What's that? That they've been taken. You mean money? Oh, it wasn't the watch or the necklace or the loans. Every now and then it was being taken worse. You know, being used and knowing you're being used. I don't quite get it. And I'll make it clear. That sweet, fresh, beautiful little girl was out to do everything and everybody for all she could get. She's rotten, you know. Just plain rotten. Johnny Duller. This is Kyle Walden. There's a message here for me to call you. Oh, yes, Mr. Walden. I'm with Eastern Trust Insurance Company. We're trying to locate an insurance beneficiary named Lorraine Broderick. Understand she lived in your apartment building up until 1953. Who told you that? A doctor she worked for here, Dr. Pollard. I don't know where she is, Mr. Dollar. I haven't seen her for two years. We're trying to pay off a claim, Mr. Walden. Didn't she leave a forwarding address or give you any idea of where she. No, no, not a thing. You've got a job on your hands, pal. Huh? I don't think that baby wants to be found. Got a couple of minutes? Yes, I'll be. Expense accounts submitted by Special investigator Johnny Dollar to Eastern Trust Insurance Company, Claims Division, Hartford, Connecticut. The following is an accounting of expenditures incurred during my investigation of the Broderick matter. Lorraine Broderick. That is missing expense account, continued item 6, $14, even photographs. The photographer who had taken the Pictures of the 1948 graduating class at St. Charles High School still carried the proofs in his file. Among them, four poses of Lorraine Broderick. I'd stopped by to get them on my way out to see Carl Walden, apartment house manager. He hadn't changed his mind about anything since our phone conversation. No, sir. She doesn't seem to want anybody to know where she is. She'd have left a forwarding address or something like that. Instead, she pulled out in the middle of the night bagging baggage and that's the last we ever saw of her. Just when was this, Mr. Walden? About the middle of December. So 1953? Yes, it was a couple of years ago. Oh, you want one of these? No. No, thanks. I don't smoke. Can you think of any place you might have gone, Mr. Walden? New York City. Oh. Why New York? It's the closest place to go, isn't it? For somebody like her? I'm not so sure I know what she was like. I've had several different versions, Mr. Walden. Say you talked to that doctor she worked for. Yeah. Boy, I'll bet his version was a pipe. How do you mean? Well, she walked out on him. That poor guy was around here several times asking if we'd heard from her, if she'd written us a change of address. He didn't say it, but I think he had it real bad for her. Oh, yeah? And I didn't tell him about the other guy either. Well, suppose you tell me about the other guy, Mr. Walden. Well, why not? Well. Well, about a week before she left, I saw her in the hall a couple of times with this other guy. Big gray haired man, wore homburgs and things like that. An older man, is that what you mean? Oh, no, not old. 45ish, maybe. You know, expensive looking character. Drove a Caddy the size of a freight train. New York plates. Buy and sell this place with his pocket money. Happen to know his name? No. He never came around again after she moved out. But they were sure chummy while he was here. At least a couple of times I saw them together. Can't blame him. She was okay. Did she owe you any rent when she left? No. Did she give you a notice she was vacating? Nope. Just left a note or anything. A $50 bill on the desk in an envelope addressed to me. That's all. That's it. Well, was she friendly with anybody else in the building? Well, not that I know of. People here keep pretty much themselves. You know, it's a funny thing. What's funny? That old boy with the homburg. I wonder why he never came around looking for her. Good question. Expense account item 7, $22 advertisements. I placed ads in the personal columns of every New York paper. Anyone knowing the present whereabouts of Lorraine Broderick, please contact. I spent the rest of the day interviewing the Cadillac dealers in town on the off chance that one of them might have serviced the Cadillac with a New York plate sometime in December of 1953. No one remembered the man Walden had described. I even tried the service records. Impossible to check. The case was stalemated that way. For five days last Tuesday, things picked up. Johnny Dollar. Hello? Hello, who is this? Johnny Dollar? Yeah, can you hear me? Very well, Johnny. I'm calling from New York. Hey, who is this? Why, it's Lorraine. Lorraine? Yes. Yes, I saw your advertisement in the papers, Johnny. I wondered what you wanted, Johnny. Why, yes. That's what I always called you, isn't it? You never met me before in your life. Hey, what is this? Why, I. Just a moment. Go ahead, Mr. Dameron. Mr. Dollar? Yeah? Just what is your business with Lorraine Broderick? I want to find her to pay off an insurance claim. Now, who are you? I'm sorry. I asked my secretary to say she was Lorraine. I've been listening on the extension. I'd like a little more explanation than that. Mr. Dameron. William Dameron. 424 East 47th Street. I know how all this must sound to you, Mr. Dollar, but I'm not trying to confuse you. Well, I am confused. Do you know Lorraine Broderick? Yes. Then let's take it from there, Mr. Dameron. Expense account, item eight, $15, transportation and incidentals. Hartford to New York for the purpose of seeing Mr. William Dameron, whoever he might be, and trying to gather further information concerning Lorraine Broderick, wherever she might be. 424 East 47th was a 30 story job that housed, among other things, the Union Brokerage Company. This happened to be located on a ground level suite. It also happened that Mr. William Dameron was president of same. He looked about the way I expected. Of course, I knew Lorraine Broderick. Mr. Duller, I apologize again for that awkward subterfuge on the telephone. You say you represent an insurance company? That's right. May I see your credentials? Sure. Here you are, investigator. Thank you. We're trying to pay off on a policy, Mr. Dameron. A man named John Smith left Lorraine Broderick a small estate of $1,500. I see. Can you tell me where she is right now? I'm afraid I can't. Oh, sit down, Mr. Donner. Sit down. Oh, thanks. I take it you knew her in Hartford. That's right, I did. She came here to New York with me. Oh, let me assure you there was nothing improper about it. I met Lorraine when she was working for a dentist there, A doctor. Oh, whatever it was, I happen to have had a little dental trouble. On a trip there. I found the dentist and I met her. When I suggested she drive to New York with me, I did it with the understanding that we were to be married here. Aha. You. You couldn't have known her very long, Mr. Dameron. A week. No one could have been more surprised than myself at my own conduct. And still more surprised when once we arrived here, Lorraine disappeared. Yeah, that seems to be a habit of hers. Tell me about it, Mr. Dameron. Look, you're talking to me, not the insurance company. Very well. It was Christmas Eve of 1952. Lorraine was staying with my sister Pauline up in Westchester County. I picked her up about 6 o'clock that evening to go to a party out on Long Island. Between here and Long island, we stopped for gasoline. I left the car for a moment, and when I came back, Lorraine was gone. And that's it. Did you see her or hear from her after that? No, I didn't. Did she leave a note in the car? A message of some kind? No, I don't quite get this, Mr. Dameron. You were going to be married after you knew her only a week. You brought her here to New York, and a few days later, she just stepped out of your car in a filling station and disappeared. It's quite reasonable from her point of view, I suppose, but not from mine. It doesn't make sense. Did you have a fight, an argument or something? Oh, no. What was it? Nothing. Nothing. I don't think I would ever have argued with Lorraine. Lovely, gentle, sweet. Yeah, I know. What about her things? What things? Clothes out at your sister's. Didn't she send for them or what? No. She only had two small bags. They're still there, as far as I know. What did you do? Did you call the police? No. No. Why? Well, I would if a girl I was going to marry disappeared like that. No, I'm afraid a call to the police would have been, well, rather awkward man in my position. Let me ask you this. Do you have any idea why she walked away? Yes. Perhaps it's of no practical value to you, though. Any information I can get will be helpful, Mr. Well, all right, then. I think Lorraine was frightened. Of What? Of life, Mr. Dollar. Not people or circumstances, but life. Yes, you say that with a lot of conviction. Yes. Lorraine had always been, well, a poor girl. She lived with a rather decrepit uncle for a time after her parents were killed in an accident. An automobile accident, she said. I think that I. I offered her the happiness and security she had always longed for. But I also think she was not mature enough or adjusted well enough to accept it. This is of no value, is it? It might be. Can you tell me if she ever spoke of any ambitions? Maybe. Maybe she wanted to go on the stage or become a nurse. Lorraine simply wanted to be my wife and live here. I can see you find that difficult to believe. When I'm almost old enough to have been her father. That is not the reason Lorraine walked away from the car that night. Believe me, Mr. Dolores, I'm terribly mistaken. She was very much in love with me and wanted to marry me. Have you tried to find her, Mr. Dameron? No. No, I have not. I waited around the filling station that night, hoping she'd return. But I didn't report the matter to the police. As I said before, I intended to hire private detectives to locate her. But then I gave that up, too. I'm afraid I don't understand this. If you loved her, would this make it more understandable? Lorraine was a rational, normal human being. When I left her in that Car. No one forced her away from it or me. The man at the filling station said she merely stepped out and disappeared down the street. She left of her own free will, for her own reasons. Hmm. I think I see your point. Thank you. I have hoped that one day she would appear at my door, contact me, come to me. But she hasn't. The most matchless woman I've ever known. Is there any way I can help you more concretely? If you could tell me the exact location of that filling station. Yes, I believe I can do that. But why? Last place she was seen? Alive. Ooh, that word. Alive. Just a word, Mr. Dameron. Have you spoken to many people who knew her? A few. The dentist she worked for, an apartment house manager, principal in her high school. Yeah, I think they all told me the truth. The what? The truth. You know, how it actually was, what really happened. Oh, I. Mr. Dameron, she would have run out on you in Westchester, taken a cab from your sister's place with her luggage. Or she could have come to you and called off the marriage. Mr. Daller, now, looking at you and talking to you, anyone would be impressed by the fact that you're a reasonable and understanding man. I am. She could have left you a dozen easier ways, Mr. Dameron. But it doesn't stand to reason that she'd step out of a car on Christmas Eve on the way to a party and disappear with no luggage, with the clothes on her back and no more. Women don't do things like that. They want an overnight bag, a change of clothes, somewhere to go to. It doesn't make sense. That's exactly what she did. They don't do it that way unless there's a mighty good reason. A real gilt edge reason, Mr. Dameron. Something that says what's ahead is better than what's being left. How much did she swipe? What? What did she take? How much? Close to $6,500. 6,500? Lovely, sweet, gentle. She took it from the wallet in my overcoat while I was talking to the filling station attendant. I would have given it to her gladly. All of this. Everything. But she had to steal it from me. She had to steal it from me like some common little thief. There's truly no fool like an old fool, is there, Mr. Dollar? Johnny Dollar. Bob Steele, Eastern Trust. How's New York? Mine. But I haven't found Lorraine Broderick yet. How about your lead? What was his name? Dameron. He hasn't seen her since Christmas Eve. Couple of years ago, she walked out on him. With 6,500 bucks. What? Now you want to keep on with it, Mr. Steele? Sure, we have to pay her off, even if it is only fifteen hundred dollars. But you sound like this was all. The farther you want to go, it might be at that. What did you say? Look, a sweet old man left a nice little girl fifteen hundred dollars. Apparently I'm looking for a grown woman who isn't very nice anymore. Beside the point, isn't it? Yeah, I guess so. Okay, Steel. I'm still on the case. Expense account. Submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Dollar. Location, New York City, New York, to the Eastern Trust Insurance Company, Claims Division, Hartford, Connecticut. The following is an account of expenditures during my investigation of the Broderick matter. Subject Lorraine Broderick. Object to locator and pay off claim results. Disillusioning. More expenses. Item nine. Three bucks. Cab fare from the plush offices of William Dameron to a filling station out on Long Island. To check his story of Lorraine's disappearance. A major oil company owned and operated the filling station where Lorraine Broderick had last been seen. Their Payroll records name three attendants on duty Christmas Eve, that is in 1953. Item twin, $28 more cab fare. And don't squawk about it. I located and interviewed all three enclosed. Fine statement of Edward Quinlan. Sure, I remember that chick better looking in this picture, I'll tell you that. She drove in with this old guy, Dameron, you said? Yeah. Well, he hadn't been away from the car 20 seconds before. She was out walking down the street as fast as she could, long dress and all. When he come back and asked what had happened to her, I told him. So he went and sat in his car for maybe a couple hours, waiting for her to come back. I knew she was gone for good. He knew it too. Must have. But he waited. I felt sorry for him, poor old geezer. Even if he did drive a kid, she shouldn't have run out on him like that, Christmas Eve and all. Pauline Dameron Whitfield, sister of William Dameron, living up in Westchester county, verified her brother's story. Lorraine Broderick had left all of her clothes and bags at her house. Mrs. Whitfield had not heard from her or seen her since Christmas Eve, 1953. A check of the luggage revealed no information that would be helpful in locating Lorraine Broderick. The following morning at the New York Police Department downtown. I requested a missing persons investigation on Lorraine Broderick. She was booked in under an alias, Jane Brown. When I got to court, she gave her right name, Lorraine Broderick. What was the charge, sergeant? Misdemeanor drunk, disturbing a piece. 25 bucks in night court, April 25, 1953. That the only time she made the blotter? Yep. What's the address, Sergeant? 1346 Yardley. That's two years. Thanks. @ the address on Yardley, I learned that Lorraine Broderick had moved 18 months before. Again, there was no forwarding address. But the landlady turned out to be quite talkative. I'm glad she moved away from here, Mr. Dollar. I'd like to help you find her, but I'm awful glad she moved away. Why do you say that, Mrs. Gaines? Noisy parties all the time. I run a quiet place, you know. Yeah, I'm sure you do. When she first come here to rent the apartment, I thought she was the quiet type. Nice. She looked like she was just out of finishing school or something like that. Oh, she couldn't have been more than 20 years old. Well, maybe a little more. 22. She told me she was a secretary and she worked in Manhattan. Well, I let her have the apartment, of course, she paid her rent in advance in cash. But once she was in, it was a different story. Did she tell you where she worked in Manhattan? No. No, she never quite got around to mentioning that. Anyway, she couldn't have worked very hard, all the dates she had, night after night. Do you happen to know any of the Mrs. Gaines? I do not. Big, noisy parties. Well, did she go with any particular man? Smart little girl like that, sticking to just one man. I don't know whether she was very smart at all. Was she friendly with anybody in the building? Nope. Any idea where she might have gone from here? Nope. All I can say is I'm glad she don't live here no more. I went back to police headquarters. It had occurred to me that hardly anyone is ever arrested for being drunk and disturbing the peace alone. I was right. The night court files revealed that Lorraine Broderick had been arrested with five other people. Three men and two women. I took down their names and began to check them out. Number three down the line was a man named Tyler in the hosiery business. Yes, he remembered Lorraine Broderick very well. No, he hadn't seen her for six months, but he could tell me where she lived. He'd seen her going in and out of an apartment on 61st street several times. He gave me the address. Boy, I'll take your bags, will he? Yes, sir. May I help you? I'm looking for a Ms. Lorraine Broderick. Broderick. Yes. I'm sorry, sir. We have no one by that name registered here. That's funny. I thought at first you were going to say Lorraine Bradley. We had a Mrs. Bradley here at one time. Oh. Did Mrs. Bradley look anything like this picture? Yes, that's Mrs. Bradley. Bradley, huh? How long ago did she move out? Four months ago, Anyhow, do you have her forwarding address? No, sir, I don't. I wish I did. Ah, Mrs. Bradley wrote us a bad check for her rent. We've been trying to locate her. Did you report it to the police? Yes, sir. I understand she's been quite active along those lines. They're looking for her too. For the third time in one day, I was back at police headquarters this time inquiring about a Lorraine Bradley. There were five wants on her for passing bad checks. Gave it up about four months ago here in New York, looks like. Then we got a buzzer from Chicago. She was there for a couple of weeks. Wrote about $600 in wallpaper. San Francisco people are looking for her too. Something came in yesterday. Last job in Santa Barbara three days ago. Expense account item 11, $4.05. One long distance phone call to Mr. Steele at Eastern Trust in Hartford. Using the name Bradley, huh? Yeah. It's probably just a phony. No record of a marriage in New York City to anyone. That name I looked. What's wrong with her anyhow? I don't know. You better get out to the coast and find out. Item 12, $38, hotel board and miscellaneous while in New York City. Item 13, $258.60. New York to Santa Barbara. A little town by the Pacific that impressed me is not caring one thing about the rest of the world. Sun, sea, a pleasantly crowded harbor, some sprawling hotels, two lush green golf courses and acres and acres of smug, expensive homes. At the police station, a Sergeant Martin was out, so I went over to the Harbor Inn to meet the latest victim of Lorraine Broderick's talents. A hotel operator named Harrington. Tall, gray haired, slack sports shirt, suntan and sandals. I. I suppose I'm avoiding this business and your questions because I still feel quite chagrined about this whole thing. Pretty understandable, Mr. Harrington. On the face of it, you. You'd think I'd been in the hotel business 30 seconds instead of 30 years the way she took me. Well, if it's any comfort, she's done the same thing in several cities and as many hotels. No comfort. Thank you. She was that good, huh? Brother, she was the best. She pranced in here as Big as life. Probably didn't have a nickel in the purse. What's more, for the whole four days she was here, she didn't break stride once. Only the best of everything. She gave you a check for $813, is that right? Painfully right. And I took it. No questions. Every night in the dining room, she'd order champagne, special dishes. That'd give you some idea of how she carried on. Yeah, I get the idea. I've seen my share of grifters and bad check artists, but she tops them all. Perfume, clothes, luggage, conversation. Can I ask you a question? I'm humiliated already. Go ahead. She checked in here alone. Registered as Mrs. Lorraine Bradley, Beverly Hills, right? That's right. Well, now, didn't it strike you as odd that a woman would check in a place like this, a resort hotel, alone, stay four days and meet no one, see no one? You're wrong. She didn't keep to herself. Became friends with at least half a dozen guests in the place. The way she was throwing my money around, why not? She picked up all the tabs. She threw me off right from the start. Let's talk about that. Start at the top, please. Well, she showed up last Wednesday night in a cab loaded down with luggage. Probably wrote a bad check for that someplace. Probably. She came swinging into the lobby with the cabby following her. Told the night clerk she wanted to see me. When I came down the stairs, she yelled, Harry. Ran up, kissed me, asked me how my wife was. You beat that? No. One of those tricks that your mind plays on you, I suppose. I actually thought I did remember of them somewhere pretty good. What was her story? She said she was on her way back from Lake Tahoe, wanted to rest up. Something about just getting a divorce, being awarded 3,000amonth alimony. That impressed me. It would impress anyone, Mr. Harrington. Did she make up any kind of a story about where she'd met you before? No, no, no story. But I got the impression, and of course, she saw to it that she had stopped here before. I wasn't altogether a boob. I did check her home address in Beverly Hills. There was a Robert Bradley listed there. Same address she gave. Later on, I found out that he's in Europe with his wife and children. But his name is in the book. Oh, yes. Say, getting back to that part about her being familiar, that's just a good trick on her part, Ella. I did think I'd known her from somewhere. And, well, she also arranged it so that I was too embarrassed to ask her specifically. In all honesty, I suppose I wanted to have known her. Can you explain that? She was about the most beautiful thing I ever saw. She walked through that door right now, told me none of this was true. I'd probably believe her. Mm. Do you have a copy of her hotel account? I'd like to look it over. Why? Well, the phone calls mostly. Maybe she contacted someone we can trace. No phone calls here. This check was drawn on a bank in Beverly Hills. Was it personalized? No. Maybe I should have thought something about it. I'm not particularly well, here's this much. I can't stand to look it over. It makes me kind of sick. $813. I spent another hour with Mr. Harrington as he distastefully covered the items on the bill she'd paid for with that bad check. Later that afternoon, I met with Sergeant Martin, Santa Barbara Police, who reported that a woman answering Lorraine's description had passed bad checks in Burlingame, Santa Maria and Ojai, California. Expense account. Item 14, $102.85. Transportation to Monterey and Santa Cruz, where I interviewed two other hotel managers who would file complaints. Their stories were pretty much the same as Harrington's, down to the pretended familiarity, the divorce and alimony details. Item 15, $4.15. Long distance phone call. Steel again in Hartford. That's you, Johnny. Yeah. Mr. Steele, I've been hopping around all over the state. Policeman in Santa Barbara call here, trying to find you. Sergeant Martin. He says he's got a line on her. Ah, he's done it again. Hop down to Malibu Beach. The man who runs the seaside in there found out her check was bad 15 minutes after she left. Now get started. You shouldn't be more than an hour behind her. Mr. Steele. I'm on my way. Johnny Dollar. My name's King, Malibu Sheriff's Station. Did you leave a message here? Oh, yes, sir. I understand you're looking for Lorraine Broderick. Broderick or Bradley. Whatever name she's using, we want her. I'm looking for her too. What's your connection? I'm an insurance investigator. We've been trying to find her all the way from Hartford. We have to pay off a claim that's due. Her Claim? Yeah, that's right. An old man left her fifteen hundred dollars. If he doesn't deserve it. Not that one. I can't tell him that he's dead. I'm expecting a little action on it pretty quick. Like to be in on it? Come on over. Expense account submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Dollar. Malibu Beach, California, to the Eastern Trust Insurance Company, Claims Division, Hartford, Connecticut. The following is an accounting of expenditures during my investigation of the Broderick matter. More expenses. Item 15, $38. Even more transportation. My trip here to Malibu beach, where I didn't even bother listening to another disgruntled hotel proprietor repeat a bad check story. I knew only too well. I went directly to the Sheriff's station and Deputy King. Well, that's about the picture, Mr. Dolan. Lorraine Bradley was at the end four days and checked out this morning. Use the name Bradley. Lorraine Bradley. She can't be too far ahead of you now. I hope not. This has been a long, rough chase. While she was at the inn, she took up with one of our local residents, a man named Joe Tappan, who lives over in the beach Colony. We know this much. He drove her into town this morning when she checked out of the inn. Have you talked to this man Tappan yet? He hasn't come back yet. When did she leave the inn? About 10 this morning. Uh huh. After 2 now. It gives him just about time. He has a house over in the Colony. We've got a man there. Colony? Down the road a piece. They call it that because a lot of movie stars built beach homes there 25 or 30 years ago. Movie colony? Right in the beach. Oh, this Tappan, is he an actor? Yeah. When he gets work, which isn't very often, mainly he keeps suntan. Excuse me. Sure. Yeah, this King. Oh, good. Right away. Tappan just drove up to his house. Let's go. I went with Deputy King to talk with Joe Tapper. He turned out to be a healthy, muscular man in his mid-30s. By the time we got there, he was in trunks and sunglasses, sitting on a porch at the front of his house. He was a little stunned by the news we brought him. What? The reign of phony. Are you sure about this, Sheriff? That's the man at the Seaside Inn. Oh, no, no, I don't believe it. Is this Lorraine? Go ahead, look at him. Well, that looks like Lorraine. Yes, but I can't be sure. She's older. Well, I mean, the girl in this picture is pretty young. It's her all right. Mr. Dollar's been looking all over the country for Hartford, New York City, up and down this coast. Well, come on, let's go up to the house. I thought I knew her pretty well. How long did you know her, Mr. Tappan? Not long, but I knew her, I really did. When did you meet her? The first night she checked into the Seaside Inn. Four days then? Yeah. Want something to Drink? No, no thanks. Well, I think I'll have. No, no, no. I. I don't want to talk about her. We have to talk about her, Mr. Tavern. But I'm sure there's some explanation about the check. She'd have to explain quite a few checks, right dollar? Yeah, that's about it. Mr. Tappert, I understand you drove her into Los Angeles this morning. That's right. I took her to the Beverly Glen Hotel. Did she check in there? No, she just dumped her luggage. She told me she didn't know whether or not she'd have to go to Chicago tonight. Something about a house she owned there that had to be rented her. Sold? Uh huh. Did you leave her there at the Beverly Glen? No. She made a phone call and said that she had to meet her lawyer. Did she say where? A bar in Hollywood, the Topper, I think it was, on Cueinga Boulevard. I drove her over there and left her. When was this? A couple of hours ago, I guess about noon. How was she dressed? Black, strapless. Wore a fur stool. Did she mention any names, tell you anything about herself? Oh, yes. She told me that six months ago a little boy was killed in an automobile accident. He was only two years old. She said that was a thing that broke up her marriage to this Bradley. Uh huh. And she told me that she needed to believe in something again. Someone. And that she needed someone to believe in her. Well, there wasn't any little boy or any husband, Mr. Tappan. There have been a couple of men I've talked to. A dentist in Hartford, a businessman in New York who felt the same way as you do about her. Well, even with what you told me, I believe what she said. Why? She cried a little when she was telling me. Oh, I don't care how you look at me. I. I don't think that anyone could invent a story that tragic without some sort of basis. A good liar can see a story in a newspaper like that one and adapt it for his own needs. But I am an actor, sir, and I can tell when other people are acting. She wasn't. She. She. Well, go on, Mr. Tappan. Look, I got a suggestion for you. What's your name? $I've got a suggestion for you. Try believing what people tell you sometime. It'll do something with that habit you have of bearing down with your eyes. Okay. The next time I have two weeks off. What? See you, Mr. Tappan. I drove into Hollywood with Deputy King at the Beverly Glen Hotel. A worried clerk was still wondering what to do with the 14 pieces of luggage Lorraine Broderick had deposited there earlier. No, she was not registered at the hotel. No, she hadn't phoned in and given him any instructions. Deputy King made arrangements for a man to cover the lobby in case she showed up to claim her things. And we went into the topper. Well, it be. Gentlemen, police. I'd like to talk to the man who was on duty here at noon today. Oh, that's me, sir. Anything wrong? This is Mr. Dollar. We're trying to locate a woman who's been using the name Lorraine Bradley. We were told she was in here around noon today. No, I don't recognize that name, sir. About five'five dark brown hair, brown eyes, 24 years old. Wore a black strapless summer dress. And stall 24? No, no. Nobody like that in all day. No. So noon is a pretty slow time, sir. I'd have noticed if anybody like that came in, I think. Have you been on duty all that time? I came on at 10. That's when we opened. Are you sure this is the right place? The topper. And this is the place. Well, I wish I could help you, sir, but. I'm sorry. Excuse me, will you? Yes, sir. Will you? Well, we struck out one thing. What's that? That luggage is the Beverly Glen. Yeah, we'll keep an eye on it. Lorraine Broderick did not return to the Beverly Glen Hotel that day to claim her luggage. The lobby was watched around the clock. Her description was on the Daily Bulletin. Every policeman in Los Angeles was on the lookout for her. I spent my time thinking about the little girl who had helped an old man sell newspapers one afternoon years ago. A little girl with a face like an angel. I didn't feel good about this case, but Joe Tappan felt worse when I went to see him again. Well, hi. Mind if I come in? What now, Mr. Duller? Your girlfriend. What about her? I've been thinking about what you told us. So? So maybe you didn't understand what I told you. Now, look, I'm not pushing my weight around, Tappan, but it seems to me you're a little stubborn in what you want to believe about her. How old did she tell you her baby was that she lost in a car accident? Two years old. All right, two years ago, she was working for a dentist in Hartford, Connecticut. He was pretty much in love with her. She left him flat to take up with a man in the brokerage business in New York. She left him flat. Took 60 $500 when she did it. There wasn't any baby in her life. Then her name was Lorraine Broderick. It still is now. Would you like to see my file on her? I brought it along. No, thanks. I thought I'd better prove that part was a lie. So you proved it. Mind if I sit down? Help yourself. Thanks. You have anything else to tell me? I suppose I do, Mr. Tappan. Since you don't seem to want to tell me anything now, just sit down, please. I've heard every man who knew her describe her. And I think I can understand why they feel the way they do. All I've got is a picture from a high school annual taken when she was 17. That was pretty good. She's 24 now. She must be seven years better. Anyhow, you're my only hope now. What? Lorraine Broderick can get away from the police for a while. Oh, yeah. She's smart and clever. And she can go right on doing the same thing she's been doing all along. Stealing, writing bad checks. But that's police business. My part is to find her and give her something one man left her an insurance bequest. But it's become more than that now. To find her and stop her. Maybe. Look, they'll get her eventually. Tappan. Do you know what five years in prison can do to a woman like her? Do you? Because I know her and she passed a few bad checks doesn't mean that I'm responsible in any way. You're right, it doesn't. But you're involved just the same. Oh, you're different from just some hotel man who's been tilted. You're a boyfriend. True. Just a four day boyfriend. But a woman like Lorraine Broderick can do a lot of damage in 4 days time. Why are you here? What do you want? I'm here to disillusion you, Tappan. Because I don't think you're disillusioned enough. Now just you're a perfect stranger to me. I don't know you from a Grand Rapids chair, but I'm doing you a favor talking to you about Lorraine Broderick. I'm doing you a favor telling you she's a crook and a thief and a forger and everything she ever told you was a lie. Now and then a woman walks into a man's life that he'd sell his soul for. But all she'll do in return is write you a bad check for it. She's trouble in a great big way, Tappan. You know it as well as I do. What do you want me to do? Apologize for meeting her. I'll Be satisfied if you tell me where she is. What? And stop lying. Now, look here. I've listened to all I want to say. Broderick never went to that bar in Hollywood you were talking about yesterday. You didn't drop her off there. No one there has ever seen her. And she's the kind who could walk around the polo grounds with 50,000 other people and still be seen. Now, where did you take her? Where is she now? Could it. Could it be fixed so she wouldn't know I told you? I suppose so. She's at the Wentmore downtown, registered under the name of Evelyn Brady. Oh, this. This beats me. $. I just don't understand it. What do you mean? How what you told me is true. I know that. But an hour ago she called me up here and she said, joe, I love you. That sounded true too. And I told her that I loved her. Now I'm turning her in. What kind of crazy world do we live in? Expense account, item 16. $14. Cab fare from Malibu to downtown Los Angeles in the Wetmore Hotel. A second rate old timer. We were on Figueroa Street, a little different from the swank spots where Lorraine Broderick had lived so gaily. The clerk told me she was in 1302. I walked down the hall to Lorraine Broderick's room. The door was standing partially open. All of the lights seemed to be on. Hello? Hello? Hello? Anybody? Huh? Get out of this room. What? Get away. Grab down. I'd found Lorraine Broderick at last. Only she was standing on a ledge outside the window all ready for a leap into eternity. Johnny Dollar, room 1302. This is the desk clerk. I have a call here. Never mind the call. You call the police. Call the police and tell them to hurry. There's an attempted suicide up here. Who is this? Shut up and do as I tell you. Now just a minute. It won't do you any good. It won't do you any good at all. Wait a minute, please. You? Who cares? I'm gonna jump anyhow. Expense accounts submitted by special investigator Johnny Dollar. Location, Los Angeles, California, to the Easton Trust Insurance Company Claims Division, Hartford, Connecticut. The following is an accounting of expenditures during my investigation of the Broadrake matter. An old man in Hartford died and left fifteen hundred dollars insurance money to a little girl who had been nice to him one afternoon back in 1943. My job. Get the money to her, even if she might take it and jump off the 13th floor ledge of a building. Don't. Don't come any closer. I'll Jump, Lorraine. Don't come any closer. It's cold out there. Don't you think you should come inside? I'm gonna jump. Stay away. Now, don't try to grab me. All right. All right. I'll do anything you say, Lorraine. Okay. What are you doing? Taking off my coat, standing out there. It must be cold. Here, you take my coat. Don't come close. I'm not. I don't want your coat. All right. Lorraine. I never saw you before in my life. How do you know my name? I've seen you. No, you haven't. I remember people. Watch out. Just going to light a cigarette. I can light a cigarette. Can I? Do you want one? No. Can I have one? Suit yourself. Are you a policeman? No. Where did you see me? In a picture in your high school annual at St. Charles. St. Charles? What do you know about St. Charles? What's your name? Johnny Dollar. Are you from Hartford? Yes. Let me see your face in the light over there. Come near this window. Don't come nearer. I'll jump right down there. That's right. There. No, you aren't from Hartford. I never knew you. You're lying to me. No, I'm not. As room clerk of this hotel, I'm entitled to. No. Oh, go away. Get out of here. Get out of here. I'll jump. What? You're not. Go on. Go on. Go on. Get out. Yes? Did you call the police? No, but I wish. Why would you tell him about the police? I don't care. They can't stop me. Nobody can stop me. No, I suppose not, Lorraine. You can jump anytime you want to. I can't stop you. I wanted somebody to call the police. I want them all down there. When the crowd's big enough, I'll jump. And I'm not afraid to do it. I'm not afraid. I know that, Lorraine. Why don't you come away from the edge? I won't hurt you. Everybody hurts me. You would, too. Why do you want to jump, Lorraine? I have my reasons. Look, there's a couple of people down there who see me. They're looking up here. They'd like to see me jump. Look, they're stopping other people. They'd all like to see me jump. I don't think they'd like to see that at all, Lorraine. Oh, yes, they would. Those people down there would love to see it happen. You'd like it, too. No. No, I wouldn't. I want you to live, Lorraine. You're afraid, aren't you? Yes, I am. Why? Dying is something all of us. Face, if you die here tonight, it makes me a little afraid of dying. I don't like to be afraid of anything. Neither do I. You must be afraid of something. I'm not afraid of anything. I've never been afraid of anything. I'm gonna jump down there, and that proves I'm not afraid. I don't believe you, Lorraine. I think you were afraid to love Dr. Pollard and Hartford. I think you were afraid to marry William Damarin in New York City. I think you've been afraid of everything and everybody that was good for you for a long, long time. Don't come closer. Would you like to talk to a priest, Lorraine? No. Look, sometimes a priest can help you when you're all mixed. I'm so worried I'm gonna jump off here any minute. You'd say anything or try anything. I don't even know what you're doing here, why you came here. I told you, Lorraine. I've been looking for you. Tell them to go back. Tell them to go back. Go back. Go back. Go on back. You're crazy fools. Get back. It's all right. They aren't coming. I don't want anybody here. A lot more people down there in the street now. They're getting the big lights up here. Golly. Lorraine, look at me. Look toward me. What? I want to help you, Lorraine. Nobody wants to help me. Nobody's ever wanted to help me. You're wrong. Then why did Mama and Daddy die? Why did they have to die? Why did Uncle Jim die? Why was I left alone? Why didn't I have anybody? You did have somebody. You had Dr. Pollard. If you wanted him, you had William Dameron. Did you meet William? Yes, sure. Last week. He's still very much in love with you, Lorraine. After I stole money from him and walked out on him. Oh, the money meant nothing to him. He still loves you, Lorraine. He told me so. I don't love him. I never loved him. He thought so. He was just nice. Why did you leave him that way? I'm no good. Never have been. You know I've never been any good to anybody. You're lying to me about him. Would you like to talk to Dameron? I can get him on the phone. No, I don't want to talk to him or to anybody. I know, but after I jump, you can tell him something for me. Sure. Tell him I meant to send the money back to him. I didn't. You can tell him I loved him. He'd feel good if you told him that. I think all Right. Go back. I don't care who you are. Go back or I'll jump right now. Wait. Close that hall door. Do you want to see me jump? You'll have to watch from the street down there with the others. How's it? Was he a policeman? I suppose so. I don't know. He looked foolish. Oh, Lord, he looked foolish. Yeah, well, we all look foolish at one time or another. It passes. Do I look foolish? Yes. Yeah, you look foolish. You're not going through with this, you know that? For the first time in my life, I know exactly what I want to do, how I want to do it. I'm going to jump somebody on the roof. Out here. They have a net. Big net. From what I know about you, I thought you always knew pretty much what you wanted to do in life. That's funny. That's very funny. I knew what I wanted in life. I never knew anything. It's all botched up. Mom and Daddy died. I should have died, too. I should have been with Mama and Daddy when they were killed in the car. Well, it won't be long. I'll be with him. I won't be tired anymore pretty soon. Those men with a net up there. Florine, wait. Wait for what? You said you talked to people who've known me. Who know what I was and what I am. Well, I didn't turn out the way they wanted me to, did I? I didn't even turn out the way I wanted to be. Look at me. Why should I wait? One man had more faith in you than anybody else. He was an old man named John Smith. He sold papers back in Hartford. Old John Smith. Lorraine, you met him one day when you were a little girl. You helped him sell his papers one afternoon. It meant a lot in his life, an awful lot. Do you remember him? No. You were 11 years old. You lived on Cushing Street. Yes. I went downtown after school one day to look in the windows. I had a nickel. And I bought a paper from that old man. He had tobacco juice on his lips. I talked to him. He told me all about selling papers. He said I was a very nice little girl. He asked me my name and where I lived. Talked about school, about growing up. He told me I'd grow up someday and be a lovely woman, he said. Lovely woman. He was very nice. He was the nicest man I ever knew. And I only knew him that one afternoon. Where is he? He's dead, Lorraine.
- [63:40]
Johnny Dollar
Dead.
- [63:41]
Nikki Glaser
He left you all his money. Insurance money. It comes to fifteen hundred dollars. No, Lorraine. He Wanted you to have it. He worked very hard and sacrificed a great deal to make sure you'd have it. You're making all this up. It's all a lie. Only that afternoon. It was an important afternoon. Here, look. Don't come closer. These prove I'm from the insurance company. Here. Here's the check. Throw them over. All right, go ahead, pick him up. I won't make a move. What do you think now? That old man. That poor old man. Easy expense account item 17. 550 martinis. I needed them. It was my first and I hope my last half hour with an intended suicide attach. Find insurance check payable to Lorraine Broderick for $1,500. The psychiatrist who examined her believe that she will make a complete recovery in time. Until such time, she's not classified as a responsible person. I notified two parties of the events at the Wentmore Hotel. One, Mr. William Dameron in New York City who arrived in Los Angeles yesterday morning. Two, Joseph Tappan, who has already secured legal counsel for for Lorraine Broderick when she answers the bad check charges against her. As you know, in matters like this, restitution is usually preferred to prosecution. Expense account item 18. $185. Transportation back to Hartford. Total $1,132.14. Yours truly, Johnny Dol. Remember, please. There'll be another intriguing story for you beginning next Monday night. Next week, the Cronin matter. A matter of keeping a sweet old lady from carefully and deliberately losing her life. Join us, won't you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar, starring Bob Bailey is transcribed in Hollywood. Written by John Dawson, it is produced and directed by Jack Johnstone. Heard in this week broadcast were Eleanor Audley, Barbara Iler, Virginia Gregg, Carlton Young, Harry Bartel, Herbert Ellis, John Dana, Marvin Miller, Tony Barrett, Frank Gerstel, Chester Stratton and Lawrence Dobkin. Musical supervision by Amerigo Marino. Be sure to join us on Monday night, same time in station for another exciting story of yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Roy Rowan. Hi, I'm Matt. And I'm Leah and we're from the Grown Up Stuff podcast. And just in time for tax season. On this week's episode, we're chatting with CPA Lisa Green Lewis about how small businesses can tackle their taxes using TurboTax Business. A Forbes study mentioned that a whopping 93% of small businesses overpay their taxes and 17% of Gen Zers believed that you could write off any expense as a business expense. So can't blame them. It's really important to do your taxes right. Listen to grown up stuff on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your favorite podcasts. Grown up stuff. You just realized your business needed to hire someone yesterday? How can you find amazing candidates fast? Easy. Just use Indeed. Stop struggling to get your job post seen on other job sites with Indeed sponsored Jobs. Your post jumps to the top of the page for your relevant candidates so you can reach the people you want faster. According to Indeed data, sponsored jobs posted directly on indeed have 45% more applications than non sponsored jobs. Don't wait any longer. Speed up your hiring right now with Indeed and listeners of this show will get a $75 sponsored job credit. To get your jobs more visibility at Indeed.com Arts, just go to Indeed.com Arts right now and support our show by saying you heard about Indeed on this podcast. Terms and conditions apply. Hiring Indeed is all you need.
- [69:43]
Johnny Dollar
Welcome back. Well, a long and winding journey that takes Johnny on an emotional journey as well as he's initially delighted by the assignment and the challenge, but then gets disillusioned by seeing her what she became. This is such an absorbing story because we meet all these people and gather their impressions of her as he journeys down her life story. Like many of the Johnny Dollar serials, this one was adapted from a previous script. The credited writer for the story is John Dawson, which is really a pseudonym for E. Jack Newman. This script actually combines elements of 2e. Jack Newman scripts. The serial's core story about the origins of Lorraine Broderick and Johnny's search for her come from the Thelma Ibsen matter. It then borrows the check fraud elements that were a big part of another episode. The Emily Braddock Matter and these were both John Lund episodes that aired in 1953. The Emily Braddock Matters plot is not an entirely easy fit at times. Johnny's interest in the check fraud case as the guy who's trying to find the fraudster and give her a fifteen hundred dollar check are a bit much in terms of being realistic, as these were written for a John Lund story in which Lund was representing the insurance company who had to cover the losses from these checks. But to be fair, Johnny often goes above and beyond what you would reasonably expect an insurance investigator to do, so it's not that huge of a deal. Still, when he asked to be in on the arrest, that feels a bit bizarre. How would that have gone? Ms. Broadrick, I'm here to arrest you on 25 counts of check fraud. Oh, and me. I've got a $1,500 check for you. If you could sign for it before they handcuffed you, that'd be great. Still, I think the check fraud case serves as a great vehicle for making this a cross country trek. And it does show the degree to which she's running away and also running out of space. She's run from New York to Chicago to the West Coast. She's at the edge of the country and with her pattern is running out of places to run to. In terms of the details of check fraud, it was a crime that was aided by the slow processing time that it took to process checks between banks. This was particularly true of out of town checks. Here she kind of helped out the police by giving a local alias and drawing on a local bank. If she had used an out of town bank, Johnny may never have caught up with her. That she was able to get away with using non personalized checks was interesting. I worked at a bank and today these are typically issued with new accounts and maybe in some real emergency situations. And part of the problem is it's hard to find merchants who will take them without questioning it or unless they know you really well. But it was apparently much more common at this time before frauds like what we heard of in today's episodes became well known and merchants really started to take serious steps to avoid being taken. I've debated back and forth how I feel about the check fraud in terms of being psychologically believable. And I kind of blame my debate on that. On the Emily Braddock matter coming into circulation. This was actually the very first Johnny Dollar serial that I listened to. And I didn't think anything about her resorting to check fraud. But then with the Emily Braddock matter, that character really is fairly sociopathic. And that's not really the profile of Lorraine Broderick. But I think that it does make sense for Lorraine in the context of her journey. When she swiped the $6,000 from Dameron, she really had money for the first time in her life. And money can't buy you happiness, but it can buy you a whole lot of anesthesia, partying, possession, men. But even in 1955, $6,000 isn't going to last you forever, particularly the way that she was spending it. Barring finding another boyfriend like Dameron or doing something even more distasteful, writing bad checks would probably be the easiest way to maintain that sort of lifestyle. So I can see her going down that path to keep the money and the good times coming and that she would be very successful at check fraud. By using the same sort of gifts that allowed her to make that impression on John Smith and which really drew people to her, like the dentist and Mr. Dameron. Choosing that path, though, ultimately led her further down this downward spiral. She could have left that greater Los Angeles area. She could have gone down to San Diego. But her decision to leave the 14 pieces of luggage and check into a rundown hotel speaks less to the fact that she was aware that the police were closing in on her and more of a sense of the emptiness of it all and her despair. In that context, her call to Joe Tappan was a prelude to the suicide. It was her way of saying goodbye. The potential suicide scene was really powerfully acted by both Bob Bailey and Virginia Gregg. There's so much to appreciate about Virginia Gregg's performance. She captures that sense of sadness and of fear while claiming to not be afraid of anything and to have never been afraid of anything. Lorraine Broderick feels so much, so intently, and it takes a real talented actress to bring that out without taking it too far. And this was just a master class by Virginia Gray. And Bob Bailey is brilliant as well. And the final scene is so different from the rest of the story. It's a very different characterization because our hero is having to shift and deal with some difficult realities. For the majority of the story, Johnny's work is underscored by being disappointed with how Lorraine turned out. But in this final act, he has to convince her that her life is worthwhile. And he has to face the fact that no matter how disappointed he is with Lorraine not living up to what expectations he had, it can't compare to how disappointed she is in herself. And Johnny does everything he can to calm her down. And she does accept his presence there, even while she's ordering everybody out. She gives up on Johnny being there and kind of accepts that he's there. But ultimately, what saves her is her learning about John Smith and his kindness toward her in taking out this policy and making sure that she received it. And what stood out to me on this listening is I remember someone saying that she didn't deserve the money. And it's hard to argue with the point. Yet the story suggests that kindness and mercy can be a powerful force even when it's not deserved. Maybe especially when it's not deserved. And in a way, I think the story makes you think John Smith had no way to know that he would end up saving her life. It definitely makes you think. On a less profound point, I have to say that the room clerk was the worst. Johnny gives his name, indicates that there's a suicide attempt, and tells him to call the police. And the guy comes running up there because he wants to know what what's going on and who's on the phone. Look, you hear suicide attempt, you call the police and get out of the way. There really are people like this in emergency situations, and particularly where the things are so emotionally tense it can lead to tragedy. It definitely added a level of challenge to Bailey's performance as he had to go back and forth between trying to be calm and comforting to Lorraine and then shooing out people who lacked any good sense. Finally, I do have to offer some positive thoughts on Dameron and Pippin. Technically, they might have been considered romantic rivals. However, as indicated by the return of the check, she's not really responsible at this point and can't really form a relationship with either of them. Yet both did what they could to help her out and help her weather the tough times that still lie ahead. Well, now it's time to thank our Patreon supporter of the day. And I want to go ahead and thank Liz. Liz has been one of our patreon supporters since December 2023, currently supporting the podcast at the rookie level of $2 or more per month. Thank you so much for your support, Liz, and that will actually do it for today. If you're enjoying the podcast, please follow us using your favorite podcast software. Well, this is the last of our listener support and appreciation specials. Join us back here next Sunday for our 4650th episode special. But join us back here tomorrow for the Adventures of the Falcon, where the.
- [80:57]
Nikki Glaser
Story Mike, when I asked Grace about the dough, she claimed she lost it gambling. Well, I want to know where that money went. Look, Vic, if you expect me to play I spy on your wife. I know how you feel about this kind of a case, but I wouldn't ask you to touch it if I I. I've got the feeling Grace got herself involved in something she can't handle. You feel there's another man in the picture? I lay eight to five. You think you can find out his name, what he does for a living? Judging by those checks, I'd say he's promoting Grace. If he is, it's my fault. Now, let's not be noble. I mean it. What kind of a life is it for a girl to be married to a gambler? With me traipsing all over the country? No wonder she got lonely. Well, assuming I find this man, what do you intend to do about it. It all depends if he's the right guy. How could he be and take money from your wife? Maybe he's in a jam. Happens now and then. You're a strange bird, Vic. I'm no kid, Mike. I've been around. Maybe I was wrong getting married in my racket, but I did. And anything Grace wants, she can have. She wants this guy, she can have him, too. With six points. Get to work on it like a good boy. Just let me.
- [81:59]
Johnny Dollar
I hope you'll be with us then. In the meantime, send your comments to Box 13@Great Detectives.net follow us on Twitter at radiodetectives and check us out on Instagram. Instagram.com greatdetectives from Boise, Idaho, this is your host, Adam Graham, signing off.