Does the perfect crime exist? Casey Martin (Frank Lovejoy) appears to be intent on discovering the hard way that it doesn't. Having just spent nine years behind bars, he executes an efficient highway heist, only to snooker himself via a discarded cigarette pack, falling foul of both the police and the Treasury Department as a repercussion.
Lovejoy is offered the choice of a lifetime in the slammer, or a liaison with the good guys to bring down big time operator Dutch Becker (Forrest Tucker). Just one small problem....he's likely to catch a bullet, or six doing it. At the risk of winding up with more holes than a colander, he takes his chance to nail the ruthless, string pulling kingpin.
The former jailbird launches himself gamely into the double dealing, fast talking, hard drinking, heavy smoking, moll mangling, fist flailing, sharp shooting, underhand, underworld sewer dominated by heavy weight Tucker, replete with his entourage of hoods, hookers, hostesses and hangers-on. Tucker is the manipulative button pusher behind illegal hooch and gambling rackets across nine states, who, in a calm, reassuring manner asks only for honesty and loyalty from those on his payroll. Unsurprisingly, any disloyalty results in rather more than a fatherly arm around the shoulder and a quiet corrective word of advice.
Access to the big shot's tawdry activities involves developing an intimacy with beautiful Peggie Castle, who finds herself walking on increasingly thin ice as a consequence. Lovejoy also experiences a seething reacquaintance with Tucker's sidekick, long faced, lugubrious and latterly lachrymose Timothy Carey.
Not outstanding or exceptional, but consistently engaging and entertaining. Finger lickin' good!
