All language subtitles for Rockford Files S06E03 Only Rock n Roll Will Never Die - Part 1.DVDRip.NonHI.en.UNVSL

John, it was the first day of
testimony for plaintiff Diane Bjornstrom

in her suit against
pop star Tim Richie.

Tim Richie is the most
sensual man of his time.

Women like that don't break
out into a sweat over guys like me.

Women like that don't
sweat, according to you.

His name's Brian Charles. Well,
I suppose you've heard of him.

How well do you know Brian?

Well as you can
know a smackhead.

Brian was hanging around with
the mob. Evergreen Management.

You're finished.
You're off this case.

Shooting at us, Eddie!

ROCKFORD ON ANSWERING
MACHINE: This is Jim Rockford.

At the tone, leave your
name and message.

I'll get back to you.

We're down at Hazy Bar,
Jim, having a drink or two

You better get
down here quick, Jim

Or we'll come and
take you out, too

So essentially, John, there are no
new leads in this gruesome killing.

And what neighbors here are left
with is the knowledge that four people

that they had known and loved are
gone, suddenly, senselessly and finally.

A whole family of
four dead. No reason.

Some world we live in.

In the Tim Richie, Diane
Bjornstrom settlement trial

there were new
developments today.

News at 6:00 Lindy
Jones has the story.

And now this travesty.

I guess you wanna
see this, sonny.

John, it was the first day of
testimony for plaintiff Diane Bjornstrom

in her suit against
pop star Tim Richie.

Questioned by her
attorney, Mitchell Robinson,

the 32-year-old international beauty
stated that her decision to forego

what would have been a
lucrative acting career in 1975

was only partly her own

and would not have happened
had not Richie shown a preference

that she not work
while she lived with him.

Miss Bjornstrom, would you
please comment on today's events?

Well, maybe some people think
that $15 million is a lot to ask.

But that's half of what Tim has.

And I gave my
whole heart to him.

I was everything a wife
would have been to him.

Yeah, I bet.

Thank you, Diane. And
here's Tim Richie himself.

Mr. Richie, did you lead Diane
to believe that you wanted her

to cease her acting career
in 1975 as she alleges?

I don't think it's right for
me to comment on that.

And so, an unsettling
day for Tim Richie,

pop legend, one time
gyrating lead vocalist

for the now defunct
super group, The Suspects.

Now an enduring
solo rock powerhouse.

A man who's been
called everything

from the primo white blues vocalist
in the world to the original bad boy.

Today, no smashing
of amplifiers,

no mascara and rouge.

Today, only a man pondering
the $15 million price tag of love.

From superior
court, Lindy Jones.

Now look at that fella there.

He makes a living
singing himself hoarse

and he's all painted and
gussied up like a madam.

Oh, come on, Dad.

Well, I just wonder
whatever happened

to two people standing
up and saying, "I do."

You know, to love and
honor, cherish forever more?

Nowadays when the whole
crummy arrangement goes apart,

why, they all end up
grabbing for the bank account.

I know. I know. You
think I'm old-fashioned.

It's a complicated
question, Dad.

I mean, if they'd been
married all those years,

she would be entitled to
half under California law.

Married. You said it. If
she had been married.

Now they could've been
married, but they weren't.

Now, she wants to be
reimbursed for living like a strumpet!

What?

You heard me.

Oh, well, hey, Dad, she's
not my idea of a great date,

but what are you bucking for?

The Cotton Mather award?

Yeah, what about that Richie
business, too? You're working for him

and you told me you wasn't
never gonna do no domestic cases.

I don't.

Eddie Lo Presti told me it was some
kind of a missing persons investigation.

Come on, why don't
you enjoy your dinner?

Fat chance.

A hotel fire in downtown Los
Angeles today claimed seven lives.

Arson is suspected
in the four alarm blaze

that took firemen several
hours to bring under control.

Look at that. That's awful.

Well, Dad, I'm telling you, it's
getting to be the same old ritual.

Every night you're plugged
into this litany of misery.

Nobody's telling you to watch.

You're just making yourself
unhappy. Good night, Dad.

Including the charred
remains of seven transients.

Jimmy? Hey! How you doing?

You look great, how
you doing? You all right?

Eddie, how are you,
pal? You're looking fine.

Eddie, look at you, look at you.

Last time we came face to face, you
were wearing a windbreaker and loafers.

That's passé, Jose.

Except on some guys. I
mean, some guys are timeless.

I knew when I called
you, you'd show up.

Even though, like you said,

you're not exactly turned
on by missing persons work.

But back in Quentin,

we didn't call you
Mr. Stand-Up for nothing.

I never was too comfortable
with that name, Eddie.

You know what I mean?
It's kind of embarrassing,

and only one guy
ever called me that.

Nobody ever called either one
of us "Most Likely to Succeed,"

did they, Jimmy, huh?

But here we are. You, a
Malibu Pl and me, with my job.

Yeah. I'm not exactly
sure what your job is, Eddie.

What, are you head
of security here?

No, not exactly. Well, in a way.

We have a security firm that handles the
main gate, house security, stuff like that.

I'm mostly around Tim.

You know, when he's
touring or traveling.

I'm more of a personal
security analyst.

Oh.

Yeah, I do things for him.

You know, make phone
calls, arrange for room service.

What do you got,
a used car lot here?

Tim, he just loves cars.

He just can't seem to
find one to fill all his needs.

Yeah, he likes to
tinker with them, huh?

No, he hates engines
and things like that.

He doesn't even
like to drive. Why?

You know, Jimmy, it's really been
a fruitful year and a half for me here.

Who would have
thought a dip like me

would end up in a
deal like this, huh?

And to think, like
destiny and all,

if Tim Richie hadn't seen me throw
that guy through a plate glass window

at the St. Tropez Club

I'd still be another ex-con,
a bouncer, instead of...

A security analyst?

Right. You know, it's weird.

Did you ever think, like, if you
hadn't missed that certain cab,

you might not have met that certain
person who played a real important...

Yeah. You were saying?

What?

About cars and destiny,
something like that.

I don't know. I forgot
what I was driving at.

Come on, Jimmy. Tim's waiting.

Your own home and you can't
find a place to talk privately.

Come on, gentlemen, excuse me.

Ghislaine darling, up and at
'em, rise and shine, hit the deck.

Go make yourself a peanut
butter sandwich or something.

That's right.

I don't know how much Eddie's
told you about the problem.

Well, not much.

He just said that you're
worried about a friend.

Business associate actually.

He seems to have... I don't
know how you would put it.

Disappeared, Tim.

Yeah.

His name's Brian Charles. Well,
I suppose you've heard of him.

No, I don't think so.

Really?

Well, he was one of the original
members of The Suspects.

In fact, Brian and me started
the group back in the '60s.

Anyway, Brian
produced Lotion for me.

It's Tim's current
LP. Renegade Lotion.

Yeah. You see, Brian's
a rather moody fellow.

We had a business luncheon
scheduled for Thursday. He never showed.

It's been a week
now and no Brian.

Well, besides the no-show, do you
have any particular reason to think

something might be wrong?

We're gonna go get Chinese.
You wanna come, Tim?

What? No.

Do you have any reason...

Well, the Immelman
twins wanna go.

They say they found some
place in Chinatown that

showcases new wave bands
Tuesdays and Thursday nights.

So let the Immelman twins go.

Talking about Brian?
You're the Pl, right?

Jim Rockford, Ron Martz.
Ron is Tim's personal manager.

You asked me why I think
something might be wrong? I'll tell you.

With Brian, there's always a reason
to think something might be wrong.

He's an emotional cripple. I've
had to pull him out of scrapes before.

This time I'd like to deal with the
problem before it becomes a 10 alarm fire.

I don't need any
problems in my life

with this stupid court
settlement thing going on.

Don't PIs wear hats?

Big brims?

Maybe you're thinking
of the Pilgrims?

No.

Uh-uh.

Bogey. He always wore a hat.

If you would like to take a couple
of hours and go out and find me one,

it'll be okay with me.

Timmy? Did you tell Bogey
how old Brian has a problem

sticking pointy
things in his arm?

There you have it.

Brian's had a junk problem
on and off for some time now.

Right now, off. But
you never know.

Now I know why you haven't filed a
missing persons report with the police.

You see the thing is,

Brian had been angry at
me for the last month or so.

A couple of weeks ago,
he started acting weird.

I had the feeling he was on
the edge of some kind of cliff.

I asked Eddie to
keep an eye on him.

Which we now see
was asking too much.

Well, the more I
hear, the more I realize

this is not really
my kind of a job.

I've always had
bad luck with junkies.

And I can't think
around loud noise.

So, I won't waste...

We're gonna play pinball, okay?

Jim, wait.

Excuse me, I don't
understand this.

We once hired a private
eye in Rome for what,

$2,000 a week.

It seems to me if you
make that kind of money,

you should be willing
to do what you advertise.

Well, I can see your point.

Guess I could rearrange my
schedule and squeeze in a week.

Thank you. Now if I can
only find this picture of Brian

at his current age,
the way he looks now.

Yeah, all right, hold on.

Timmy, Whitney Cox wants to know when
she can grab some time for the interviews.

And that guy wants to know
when he can come and paint

the mural on the
bottom of the pool.

Hello, yeah, this is Tim Richie.

I'll get the photo
of Brian, Tim,

and I'll fill Jim in
on the way out.

Hey, Bogey, if you're going
anywhere near Chinatown,

maybe you can give
me and the twins a lift?

My 450's in the shop.

Pile everyone in and crush
the Borsalino? I don't think so.

I'd like to help out, you know.

I mean, since it's
my mess and all.

But I won't meddle.
You're the doctor.

How'd you lose sight of Brian?

I don't know. I was busy
with things around here.

I was kind of preoccupied.

I just messed up.

Well, what were Brian
and Tim squabbling about?

Creative differences,
they call it.

Tim did the unthinkable as
far as Brian was concerned.

He put a disco cut on Renegade
Lotion, a thing called Migraine or Yours.

And Brian's an old
line rock and roller.

He thinks disco
is a cultural blight.

He thinks anything this side of
Jerry Lee Lewis is bubble gum.

Where you gonna start first?

Brian's place.

No, I've already been up there.

There's nothing there
you could consider a clue.

Who's the doctor?

I forgot. The picture
of Brian. Hang on.

Hi.

Oh, hi.

Quite a collection of cars, huh?

Yeah, yeah. It's kind of
strange when you think

there's a guy upstairs
who keeps begging rides

because his car's in the shop.

Ronny?

Yeah, the self-effacing guy.

And you are...

Jim Rockford.

Hi, I'm Whitney Cox.

You're the private
investigator. Am I right?

Who said there is a
private investigator?

Ronny.

The self-effacing guy.

You're here about Brian
Charles, aren't you?

Well, I know that they're
all worried about him,

and Ronny told me Tim was
going to hire an investigator.

Well, you can check that
out with Ronny or Tim then.

Yeah, I could. And I will. I
was just, you know, curious.

I found the picture.

Hello, Whitney. I
see you've met Jim.

He's on the Brian Charles deal.

Brian still hasn't shown up.

You ready to go, Eddie?

We're going to Brian's
place to check it out again.

Hey, Jim, Whitney's
going to do a hell of a piece.

I can't wait to read it.

A piece? For
Knickerbocker Magazine.

An in-depth profile
on Tim in three parts.

Oh, really?

You know, I never would have thought you
were a reporter unless somebody told me.

What's the angle
on your three parter?

Well, it's a piece about the life
and times of a rock star manqué.

Everything that goes into
the making of such a man,

his friends, his
loves, everything.

You see, it's my thesis

that the macho man of action cowboy
as sex symbol is not only over but history.

When you take Mick
Jagger, Rod Stewart,

even John Travolta,
they've all proven that.

It's my feeling that Tim Richie is
the most sensual man of his time.

The sexual bellwether
and prototype

of everything you're going to
see as we leave the '70s behind us.

Yeah, really, yeah, yeah.

My dad and I were gabbing
about that just the other night.

You ready to go, Eddie?

Oh, Eddie, I'm sorry,
I hate to bug you,

but remember you said you
were going to fix my camera.

You know, the way the
flash unit isn't in sync?

You think you could do
that when you come back?

I could do it right now. It
shouldn't take too long, huh, Jim?

You could grab dinner
and head up to Brian's

and I'll catch
up with you later.

I thought...

Nice to meet you, Jim.

Yeah?

Jim? It's me, Eddie. Listen,
I'm not going to make it.

No kidding?

Well, I got hung up
with Whitney's camera.

I had to go down to Foto-pal.

The batteries had leaked and
shorted out some of the contact points.

Oh, no. Maybe I better mix
myself a stiff drink before you go on.

What's the matter, Jim?

Nothing, Eddie, nothing. Nobody's
got their shore guns trained on my job.

You got a thing for Whitney, why
don't you come right out and say it, huh?

You don't need to show
me a note from your parents.

It's that obvious?

Obvious?

When she's around you look like a
dog just wandered onto the freeway.

Oh, no. You think she notices?

What do I know, Eddie, huh?

I just don't want to stand
around here chatting about it.

I just had a mystery
guest up here

and I took it with a
beanball and they took off.

You all right? Who was it?

That's the point I'm trying
to make, Eddie. I don't know.

Well, I may have
something for you.

I just heard from a guy I know, an
engineer down at Ran-Jan Recorders.

He'd heard that I'd
been looking for Brian.

Now he said he thought he saw
him down there last Wednesday night.

That's the night before Brian didn't
show up for the meeting with Tim.

The guy's name is Dwight Deleau.

And I'll meet you down
there. I want to be in on this.

Well, I won't get my
hopes up too high.

Just in case something
important comes up,

like you have to drive
Whitney to get a pedicure.

You mean you didn't
even talk to Brian?

You have no idea where he went?

Eddie, I was working. I had
a session in progress, man.

How well do you know Brian?

Well as you can
know a smackhead.

Then he isn't as clean these
days as everybody says.

Clean is a relative
word with Brian.

Everything is
relative with Brian.

I mean he'll also
tell you he's organic.

Got all heavy into
organic gardening.

Every time I'd see him he'd say,

"One of these days,
I'm gonna bring you

"some of these tomatoes I
got growing in my garden."

One day I see the garden.
Dry, dead, the Negev Desert.

I said, "Brian, what
about the tomatoes?"

He says, "My hose didn't reach."

Yeah, well, thank you very much.

Hey...

Mr. Deleau, are these yours?

What?

No. Those are Chiyoko Takai's.

Japanese recording artist.
Came over here to cut an LP.

Oh, yeah, well, that's the same session
you were working on Wednesday night

when you saw Brian?

Matter of fact, yeah.

That's her now.

I'm doing some temp transfers
of the stuff we laid down that night.

Japanese country and western?

Long as it works, right?

Hey, you know, they're
crazy for C and W over there.

They call her
Tokyo's Tanya Tucker.

Where do you think I
could get in touch with her?

Her manager's a guy named Sal
Blundetto over at Evergreen Management.

And the producer is a
Japanese guy named Jerry.

Thanks again.

Thanks, Dwight. Yeah.

So what's the deal, Jimmy?

I saw a pack of cigarettes just
like that up at Brian's, you know.

Yeah. Along with
a lady's nightgown.

And I'll tell you
something else.

I saw a first-class
airline ticket to Geneva,

unused and untouched.

And his luggage
was still there, empty.

What, you think
he's still in town then?

Well, I didn't see a
car in the driveway,

so wherever he is, he's
probably within driving range.

I suppose you're gonna
unload on me, Jimmy, right?

For being so preoccupied with
Whitney that I didn't notice that stuff?

Hey, come on, Eddie, I
wasn't even thinking that.

I know what it's like to come down
with the virus. Nobody's immune.

You think about
your famous beauties.

And I'm talking about Bacall,
Grace Kelly, Gene Tierney, maybe.

How often does God
create something like that?

Almost never.

And Whitney is like that. I
mean, she's one of those...

I can't even express it. But
you know what I mean, right?

Yeah, well, yeah,
yeah. She's pretty, yeah.

Oh, Jimmy, it goes way,
way beyond her looks, Jimmy.

It's everything. It's her
way, her personality.

This natural grace
that she has, you know.

Her voice, for example.
Now did you notice how

her inflection is a little different
than everybody else's somehow?

It's kind of like musical.

Yeah, well, I didn't
talk to her too much

and then it was
just short sentences.

Yeah, yeah, but when
Whitney says something like,

"I left my shoes
back at the house,"

she does this little
thing at the end

that kind of comes back
up again, like a grace note.

Yeah, but it goes beyond that
physical stuff like voice and looks,

it's the whole thing.
She's like Zen, you know.

Yeah, well, it must have been pretty
hard to tell her how you feel, huh?

I haven't told her
anything. Are you kidding?

You mean you haven't
taken her out or anything?

Me? No.

Why not?

Cut the crapola, Jim.
Don't patronize me.

What?

She can have her pick of anybody.
I mean you could see it coming.

Guys were hitting on her all
over the place, important guys.

And Timmy himself is
interested in her, I can tell.

I'm sure when the professional
part of their relationship is over, bam!

Eddie, you're no Rondo Hatton.
Why are you chopping yourself?

Oh, women don't like me.
They just don't respond to me.

You've met some
really nice women.

Neurotics.

No. I'm just not good
looking. Let's face it.

Eddie, come on, you're
perfectly acceptable.

No, I'm too short, Jimmy,
and my ears are too big.

I always have 5:00 shadow.

The crown on my
head is kind of flat

and it gives my head
this dumb shape...

Okay, that's it! That's all. That's as
far as I wanna take this conversation.

Let's just get right back
to business now, huh?

What do you know about
Brian's financial situation?

I don't know much about that.

What about his
personal life? His family?

Don't know much about it.

And you don't know what
holds the moon in space

and a lovesick fool
is all you'll ever be.

It's a hard lane out on Route 15

It's a hard lane

Rain! Rain!

Rain... Rain.

Rain. Rain!

Excuse me, I'm sorry
to bust in on you like this,

but the secretary out there told
me I could find Mr. Blundetto in here?

He took his secretary out
for a ride in his new 450.

I don't know when he'll be back.

Well, then, unless
I miss my hunch,

this is the little lady that I'm in
here to speak to Mr. Blundetto about.

Miss Chiyoko Takai?

Hi.

Hi. Sure am happy
to meet you, ma'am.

Jimmy Jo Meeker,
Meeker Enterprises.

Gotta tell you, ma'am,

there wasn't anybody
down home that had any idea

that the folks up in your part of the
pasture like good old country music.

Sorry, ma'am.

She doesn't speak
English, Mr. Meeker.

I'm her producer, Jerry Ito. She
learns the songs phonetically.

Look, we're right in the middle of
reworking some tunes. What do you need?

Promotion, Mr. Ito, promotion.

You see, last July, my
company, the Meeker Corporation,

acquired this little company, the
Red River Footwear Corporation.

It's right outside of
Nacogdoches, Texas.

See, we turned that little
small custom leather company

into the number one
supplier of western boots

to the common market
countries and England.

How'd we do that? Promotion.

When Mr. Elton John was
seen in an issue of Pop Scene

wearing a pair of our three-inch
heels and a custom multicolored word,

"Elton" right up each
ankle, mmm-hmm.

We saw that market
jump 22.1% in six months.

You're talking about Chiyoko
hyping your cowboy boots in Japan?

What put that idea in your head?

Well, a phone conversation I had
with old Brian Charles last week.

See, he's been
wearing Red Rivers

ever since those days when
he was with The Suspects. Yeah.

And when he told me
about this amazing little talent

and how she had all of Japan
weeping into their bean curd soup,

the light went on over my desk.

She wanted to know if
you're a friend of Brian's

and I explained it to her.

Look, you're gonna have to
wait till Sal Blundetto gets back.

He handles and
negotiates ancillary rights.

Yeah, well, I'll do that, son,

but I would like to point
out the obvious to you.

I'm here with a lucrative offer,

and I want to pass a few words about
Brian Charles with a mutual friend.

Why don't you just
loosen your cinch a little?

Look, she likes your
idea, but she's busy.

I'm busy and we don't
have time to schmooze.

Why don't you just kindly ask her
where I might get in touch with him, huh?

She says that she doesn't know.
She's been trying to reach him.

She drove him to his
place on Wednesday night.

He's got a fantastic Ernest Tubb
collection and he wanted her to hear it.

They listened to the
music until about 2:00.

Then she went back to her hotel.

She drove him up there?

Right. She said he doesn't
drive. And he lost his license.

Highway patrol.

Right, right. The highway
patrol lifted his license.

There was one other thing
that I was kind of curious about.

Just how she and Brian
got hooked up together.

I can tell you that.

We both met him at Bernie
Seldon's house a couple of weeks ago.

Look, what does all this
have to do with boots?

Nothing, Mr. Ito, nothing.
It has to do with politeness.

The hands across the water,
and stopping to smell the roses.

Ma'am.

No good. It doesn't work for me.

I'm not gonna park
my car in a public lot

and schlep to the Grammys
on foot like one of the nothings.

Me and Joy arrive in a limo
at the front door of the hall.

But, Bernie, Ike Smith says
there's no room in his limo.

And the girls are gonna
be with him and his mother.

Then call some
of the other clients!

I arrive at the front
door like a mensch.

With Joy.

Bernie Seldon. So what?

Yeah, alias Scott T.
Bernal, a.k.a. Eugene Scott,

a.k.a. Father Patrick Morrisey.

I knew I recognized him. It
was Bell Meadows Raceway.

I was out there
with some friends.

He came over to say
hello to somebody.

Later on he kicked the daylights
out of a parking lot attendant

for trying to start the car
with the air conditioning on.

Lieutenant Becker?

Is there a particular reason your
friend's going over the mug books?

It's on my authority,
Captain McEnroe.

Okay. Let's just get that
down there for the record.

I was at lunch.

I know you were, sir.

A year till he pulls the
pin. He's driving me nuts.

He's so worried
about his pension

that any time there's any kind of
controversy, out comes the skateboard.

Father Morrisey here has a pretty
hefty yellow sheet for violent crimes,

doesn't he, Dennis?

Yeah, he's out through the
way. So what else is new?

He hasn't been seen around here
locally in the last couple of years.

The last I heard he was president
of the restaurant employees,

I don't know, the bus boys
union in Oakland and Miami.

Yeah, well, he's
still in platters.

He's on his way to the Grammys.

McENROE: Lieutenant, I'm
going over to central motor pool.

I want to check those new squad
cars when they come off the trucks.

If anything comes up, you
probably won't be able to reach me.

Yes, sir.

The Grammys? You mean
like the record awards?

Is that the job
you're working on?

Was working,
Dennis, was working.

Thanks, pal.

And what is your
occupation, Mr. Florio?

I am a filmmaker with
my brother, Honoré.

Could you, I wonder,

give the court a partial listing of
you and your brother's film credits?

Yes. In 1962, I
made Les Blaguers,

a documentary about
the European exploitation

of the rubber
harvesters in Burma.

In 1968, with my brother,
I made Tin and Laughter,

about collusion in the West
German automobile industry,

which won the silver Gourd
at the Bogota Film Festival.

After that was...

That's fine, Mr. Florio, that's
fine. Thank you very much.

Would you please tell the
court about the naissance

of your relationship
with Miss Bjornstrom?

Yes. In 1974, my brother and I
received financing from Italian investors

to produce a
feature-length dramatic film.

Terence Watts had written the
script which I completely rewrote.

It was called Vitriole.

It was about a priest in Latin
America going through a crisis of faith

during the Peronist abuses.

Is this a copy of the
shooting script of Vitriole?

Yes. This is my rewrite.

Your Honor, we offer this
as plaintiff's Evidence C.

Now, Mr. Florio,

did you meet with Miss Bjornstrom
in connection with this project?

Honoré and I wanted her to
play the central female role, Jill,

the American
student from America.

She was on holiday in London

and we met several times
with her in our offices there

for discussions about
the role, you see.

And what transpired then?

One day she came
to the office in tears,

saying that she had to
return to the United States.

That Mr. Richie here had requested
it and that he had, as she said it,

"Put a monkey wrench
onto the machine."

Was Vitriole ultimately made?

Unfortunately, no. The
investors became nervous.

You see, they wished to
bring in Jean-Claude Killy

or someone with a name
to play the part of the priest

so as to make the
project more commercial.

They wanted the priest to ski.

Well, Honoré and I, we refused to knuckle
under to a bunch of Italian dentists

and the whole
financing fell down.

Okay, Mort, so what do we do now?
I don't remember anything about it.

I do remember that she went to
England for part of the summer

on account of the
Patty Hearst thing.

Mr. Richie.

She was convinced, I don't
know why, that she was next.

Anyway, that's why
she went to England.

Gee, Timmy, if you can
remember why she went,

but you can't remember...

Mr. Richie? All right,
come on, hustle!

Tim, we've got reporters coming!

Later. Later for you.

Hey, Ronny!

Go, go, go, girls,
go ahead, go ahead.

Ronny! My foot!

Hey, hey, wait a
minute. Hey. Let me...

Oh, no, no, no. Nothing right
now. No, nothing for the press!

Stop!

Mr. Richie, I know you
have a lot on your mind.

I don't want to take up too much
of your time, but it's important.

I'll tell you something, Mort, if
she did discuss this picture with me,

all I ever said to her was,
"Be careful what roles you take.

"Be very selective."
That's all I ever said to her.

Mr. Richie?

What? Oh, hi, listen.
Can't this wait till later?

Tomorrow? Tonight?

Yeah, well, you're
in court all day.

They told me at your house
you're going to a screening.

So you rap with Ronny, he'll fill me
in, okay? Ronny? Where the hell is he?

Mobbed up? Brian?
You mean like...

Yeah, yeah, I mean
like mobbed up.

Cappuccino and cigars at the
home of a guy named Bernie Seldon.

He owns Evergreen Management.

Oh, you didn't know that?

No.

Well, you see, I have
a company policy.

When faces like
that start popping up

in the investigation
I'm working on,

I figure I've done all the heavy
theatrical ground work and I get out.

Italian ices.

I've heard of Evergreen Management
though I know nothing about

this greaser connection.

But even if there is one,
hoods in the music business?

That doesn't exactly rate with
"Japan Surrenders," does it?

And if Brian chooses to hang
out with a couple of broken noses,

that doesn't mean he's involved
with them in any real way.

No, no, it doesn't.

It only means that this is as far as
I'll take an investigation of this kind.

Look, Brian disappeared in the
dead of night over a week ago.

Now I'm not going to be the next
one to follow him into the flying saucer.

I'm sorry. Either you call
the police or I'm off the case.

Wait, Jim, don't
make a snap decision.

- I'm sorry, Eddie.
- Hey, you!

You think that was cute? You're
finished. You're off this case.

Yeah, I know. And here's a
copy of my bill for your files.

He's not through, Ronny. He's come
up with some disturbing information

which I'd like you
to follow through on.

He pushed me out
of the elevator, Tim.

He tells me that Brian was
hanging around with the mob.

Evergreen Management. Do
you know if they're connected?

I know that industry-wise
they're dwarfs.

There's not one client
on the Billboard Top 50.

Timmy, we can do
better than this guy.

That's good enough. Since
you're the business manager,

I know you'll want
to take care of this.

That's $2,000, as discussed,
per week or parts thereof.

All right, fine. Thank
you. I'm not gonna beg.

Pay him off.

I'll have the girls issue a check
from one of the corporations.

I'll take cash.

Well, then you can just drive
your little self down there.

Richie Attractions, South
Tower, Century City.

I'll call ahead. Tim
and I don't carry cash.

There's too much terrorism.

Somebody turn on
one of Timmy's tapes.

Thanks, Jim. That's all I
gotta say. Thanks a lot.

Hi. How's it going?

Oh, you're angry.
What's the matter?

It's Mr. Renegade Lotion
and his flippo brigade.

I mean, you try doing business with them,
you feel like you've eaten a mushroom.

Rock and rollers.

Look, you have to
understand that Tim Richie

lives on a totally different
planet than you or me.

I mean, since he was
18 or 19 years old,

he's had millions
of dollars rolling in,

he's had girls OD'ing because
they'll never get a chance to meet him.

Expecting him to relate to
what you or I would call reality...

I think that's asking just a
little bit too much, don't you?

Yeah, that's me. Unreasonable.

So how's it going with the Brian
Charles case? You come up with anything?

You know, Miss Cox, I have tried to
slip you the message every which way

that I do not discuss my cases
with anyone but the principals.

You just won't have
it that way, will you?

Mr. Rockford, I am a journalist.

I have no qualms
about doing my job.

Maybe you read that piece I
did last year for Knickerbocker

about how the wine-tasting
in Puvis de Chavannes

was rigged in favor of
some California reds?

Well, none of that ever would
have come out if I hadn't been pushy,

if I hadn't risked
burning some bridges.

Yikes!

You know, I like
you. I really do.

I think that you're going
to find we're a lot alike.

Whitney!

Jim Rockford. Jim, Alain Florio.

Afternoon.

Oh, now I think I am
remembering you.

Your father is a collector

and your family donated
some paintings to the Hartford?

What? No. My father
has some seascapes,

but I think he plans
to hang on to them.

Jim's a private investigator.

He's working on a missing
persons case for Tim Richie.

Really? How mysterious.

Oh, Whitney, wait until Honoré
sees you. He will faint himself.

Honoré! Honoré!

Hey, Knickerbocker,
right? How are you?

Fine.

Whitney, we must
have dinner together.

You and Honoré and
me and your friend.

No, thank you. I
have to be going.

Are you sure?

I mean, we should at least get
as far as an exchange of prisoners.

Not tonight. Thanks.

It was very nice
meeting you, Mr. Hartford.

Rockford. The other guy gave
the paintings to the Hartford.

Oh. Yes, yes, right.

Bye. Bye.

Hey, Jimmy!

Come on, what's
the matter with you?

Turn that thing down.
It's 1:00 in the morning.

That's Tim Richie, Jimmy!
The old bantam cock himself!

Old Satan in leotard.

Yeah, well, turn it down.

How do you like
my new 450, Jimmy?

You been drinking?

I said how do you like
my new 450, Rockford?

It's very nice. Very nice.

I didn't know you could
afford that kind of ride.

Well, Jimmy, this morning when I
took delivery on this regurgitated U-boat,

I could barely
make the payments.

But since I got fired tonight,
there's not a chance in hell.

Hey, Eddie. I'm sorry.

Just leave sorry to Brenda Lee.

I'm looking at two weeks' notice
because you bailed out on a job.

After I gave the highest
recommendation I could give a guy.

Now don't you come around
here telling me that you're sorry.

Hey. You came around here.

I ought to break your face.

Why don't you
try it, Eddie, huh?

I'm in the mood. I had a gas of a
time in Century City traffic today.

Ronny never called
about the money.

I got enough adrenalin built up in
me to bottle and sell it to hospitals.

So you try it, Eddie.

I'm sorry, Jimmy. I don't
know what I'm doing.

My stomach's upset.

Save it for Brenda Lee.

I don't know. I
mean ever since...

Sometimes I start to really think
about where I'm really at these days.

And I don't know, Jim.

Ten, 15 years ago, I
used to wear a bowling shirt

because I was on a bowling team.

I liked bowling. Now
the shirts are chic

and bowling is square
and I paid $150 for this one.

And I'd never dream of telling my
friends that I used to roll a $300 game.

All right. Come on, Eddie, you're
getting wasted on milk of magnesia.

You never could drink, Eddie.

You know what really
happened tonight?

Whitney. She finally
got the royal summons.

Up at Tim's room.

Her face lit up like
a kid's at Christmas.

Hi, Eddie, how's it going?

Hello, Mr. Rockford.

Hey, what's the matter
with you? You okay?

You look a little peaked there.

Hey, Dad, if you're too
sleepy to drive home,

you can conk out in my room.

Hey, you're a bowler too,
huh? You know, I'm a bowler.

The team I bowl in bowls
in the Oceanside League.

Dad, didn't I have some
milk of magnesia in here, huh?

Oh, I get it, I get it.

You're coming
back from the lanes,

you had a miserable
night. I know that feeling.

You know, I was on the team when
that LaMont Barbershop Supply outfit

beat us for the championship.

A bunch of smart alecks
with them fancy alley masters.

Hey, Dad, Dad, Dad,
Eddie's not feeling too good.

He's got a little on his
mind, so if you don't mind...

Well, all right, just
pardon me all to heck.

You don't have to
go putting me to bed

or sending me looking
for stomach medicine.

I hope you feel better, Eddie.

Good night, Rocky.

He's a nice guy.

Yeah, he is.

Hey, Eddie. You got hit with
two real torpedoes in one night.

I feel for you, pal.

The thing is, I
finally got the nerve

to put myself
out there with her.

I was kind of asking
her about herself

and she was asking me about me.

I felt like I had a shoe in
my throat but I kept on going.

Just being next to her
like that out by the pool,

or just seeing her up close when
she looks at the ground sometimes

when she's talking
or smiling or...

Yeah.

Yeah, it's those little
details that haunt you.

Her perfume.

It's kind of like a New
England hillside in springtime.

You know, turns out we both lived
on the same street in New York.

Prince Street.

'Course when I lived
there, it was all warehouses

and when she lived there all the
warehouses had been converted into lofts.

Yeah, well, it's good you
approached her, Eddie,

it's good you talked
to her, you know.

The other way is no way to live.

I was just working up to ask
her to go for a ride in my new car.

You know, that's all
I've been fantasizing,

me and Whitney driving
along Mulholland in that car.

The sound of the road.

Her beside me. No need to speak.

Well, that's not all
I was fantasizing.

You know, Eddie, this is
going to sound a little weird,

but Whitney is an
idea in your own head.

I was just about to
ask her, you know,

"Would you like to go
for a ride in my new car?

"I just got it."

Tim comes back
from his screening,

prowls around like some kind of
ticked-off cheetah or something,

sits there brooding
like he does, you know.

He's really bugged
about Diane and all.

Well, he asks
Whitney to go upstairs.

He says he's been reading this
book, Passages or something,

and he'd like to talk
about it with somebody.

I'm left at the pool sitting there by
myself with my dumb owner's manual.

What an idiot.

Well, maybe that's all they
did was discuss the book.

I mean, you don't know.

I need a drink.

Oh, no, now come on, Eddie.
Hey, Eddie, what about your job, pal?

I mean, that's
important, too, you know.

Your preoccupation with her is what
got you in trouble in the first place.

Maybe it's not too
late to fix it, huh?

She loves ecru.
What a neat color.

All right, come on. Maybe I can
get you some coffee here, huh?

She went to Mount
Holyoke College.

Her ancestors came over
with the Pilgrims in 1609.

Not on the Mayflower
though. On the second boat.

Isn't that interesting?

Yeah. How about some cognac in
the old java, huh? How about that?

Eddie, Eddie, now
you listen to me.

You don't even know
her. Do you hear me?

You don't even know her. You're
reacting to her looks, her appearance.

Oh, Jim. It's not just physical.

I know what she is. I
know it sounds crazy.

I know that it doesn't make a
damn bit of sense. But it hurts.

My body, it actually hurts.

All around here.

I can't hold her face
in my mind's eye,

food makes me sick.

It really hurts.

Eddie, I'll tell you what. Let's go
on over to the Sandcastle, huh?

We'll have a couple of
stiff belts before they close.

We'll keep talking, huh?

God love us all. Hey, Jimmy.

I don't want to make
you feel guilty or anything,

but could you maybe
reconsider on the case?

It'd help me out at a
time when I really need it.

I'd repay you somehow,
you know I would.

Hey, don't ask, Eddie.
Just don't ask me, huh?

I mean, this could really be very
dangerous and that's a reality.

I don't know. How
bad could it be, Jim?

I mean objectively speaking,

not because I want
you back on, which I do,

but don't you think you're
over-reacting a little?

Jumping to conclusions?

What was that? Huh?

It was kind of like a bee or a whistle
you blow at a New Year's Eve party.

I didn't hear anything.

Shooting at us, Eddie!

Hey, come on. Get in the house.

Behind the car, Eddie!

It's locked!

What's that?

That's your new 450.
Let me see your arm.

Eddie, it's quiet.

Maybe he's reloading.

Or leaving.

Why in that leg?