Original subtitles

Here you go.

You know, I just may not.

What? You can turn me into our next year's model.

You like?

Oh, that's my kind of houseboy.

Give me a martini, Gordon.

They're in Sanford?

He's got that let's talk business look.

Francesca. Martini and olive, oh eminent publisher.

How about a martini and a renewal?

That's a sneaky segue.

Dear Francesca, I've never written to a column before for advice.

Your martini is getting cold. But I need help, like a girl who will not renew

her contract.

Oh, Quincy Jones, he really turns me on.

Legal says that, uh...

They can't pin you down.

Well, a guy's got to have time to think. Nothing to think about, Marcy.

Loyalty, loyalty. Remember, you started with us. Using that kind of logic,

Willie Mays would still be playing ball with Toronto.

Heaven help the poor producers.

How about a look at International's offer with a view of matching it?

Or bettering it.

Don't go away. Flirt with somebody.

Excuse me.

Showtime!

I'm sorry.

11 ball in the corner pocket.

Today or tomorrow?

Don't rush me.

This is a tough shot.

Sure it is.

Oh, I could blow the whole thing. Right here.

Come on, Willie Hoppy, play the ball, not me.

Mark, how can you say a thing like that?

Easy. You're into me for a week's salary now.

You know, I... I think this table has a role in it.

There's one in my head.

two for playing with the hustler.

Hustler? Mr. I, you want the plot?

First, you'll keep psyching me, building up a shot a kid could make.

Then you'll hike the bet, double or nothing.

Then you'll make the shot.

Bam. And I'm on the hook for two weeks' salary.

Still, when you're being shot out, what's to lose?

You got a bet, double or nothing.

Beautiful. You choke, you big chicken cop. I'm off the hook. You blew it.

Mitch, Kirby, come in.

Chief? Well, Mitch Kirby, Mark Sanger. Hello. How are you?

How's Francesca?

She's fine.

Look, you have time for lunch?

Chili okay?

We have a customer.

He's a nowhere cook, but play it straight.

I've got to live with him.

Pretty wild story.

Pretty wild night.

But... Fran's all right.

Very lucky.

A few scrapes, a bad case of the shakes, and... And?

And a pretty far -out reaction.

I keep trying to discuss it with her. She just fluffs it off. Says it must

been some kind of bad joke.

She can't fool me.

She's scared.

Who's got a grudge?

Well, that's what's driving me crazy.

Look, I know you haven't seen her for years.

But she's way up there now.

As it made.

Writes five columns a week. Does a daily TV show.

She's good for half a million a year.

You think somebody's trying for a piece of that?

Kidnapped for ransom?

What else could it be?

Well, you just talk to her.

For old time's sake.

Oh, please, not again.

Problems seem familiar, girls.

Dear Francesca, my husband is seeing another woman and spending a great deal

money on her, but he's very stingy with me. He screams if I even buy a pair of

shoes. He has a terrible temper, and I'm afraid to discuss it with him, should I

just ignore it.

I've always been taught that silence is golden and that the meek shall inherit

the earth.

Signed, Confused.

Dear, dear, Confused.

Those homilies are very nice if you don't take them too literally. Silence

golden if you happen to be in the blackmail business.

And while the meek sometimes do inherit the earth, the earth is real estate.

Happily, there is a little item called community property.

Have your lawyer explain this very carefully to dear hubby, and I'm sure

your dear hubby will discover another homily.

Charity begins at home.

Uh -oh, I'm afraid we're out of time, gal. Same time tomorrow, same channel.

remember, if the problem's getting a little much, why not tell it to

Bye. Boys, it's a wrap.

Thank you, Mrs. Kirby.

Hello,

you beautiful, grumpy man. I know, I know, so it's not Hemingway.

Next time, I encourage a good police reporter. I know, I love you, too.

This is Vic Durant, Chief Ironside. Vic is my manager.

That's semantics for slave.

The network picked up the option.

They've agreed to everything.

And Darren Sanford asked for a week.

He'll top International's offer, I'm sure of it.

Oh, I've got to go.

Pleasure.

This way.

Tiger.

Fran, what's it like on cloud nine?

It's the only way to fly.

Query, who's trying to clip your wings?

Ironside style. Come out punching with both hands.

You haven't changed.

You have.

What's that bilge about last night being a bad joke?

I knew it the minute I saw your lovely kisser.

Mitch blew the whistle on me, huh?

He loves you. He's running scared.

So am I.

You think my writing's bad?

People like you shouldn't be allowed to live. And you won't.

Somebody's got to stop you.

Fan mail?

Came in about a month back.

You never reported it to the police.

Never even told Mitch about it.

Fran, what's the matter with you?

Robert, try to understand. I get maybe 200 ,000 letters a year.

Most of it's mice.

People with problems.

Big problems, small problems, imaginary problems.

Most of them don't even need help.

Just putting it down on paper makes them feel better.

Ten -cent therapy.

But then there's the crank mail.

The kooks, the weirdos, the night crawlers. They're full of hate, threats.

got a drawer full of them.

If I took them seriously, I'd wind up in a straitjacket. This one did a little

more than threaten.

In the car, did you manage any kind of look at him? In that scuba outfit, it

could have been anybody.

All right. I'll tell you what we do.

You're going to suggest police protection?

Yeah, for openers.

How would it look?

A girl with all the answers who can't even handle her own problems. I'd be

laughed out of the business.

Let's try it another way.

No publicity.

Unofficial.

Just me.

Thank you.

How about that drawer full of crank mail?

See it?

A worn typewriter key never hits squarely. Now, that's what you're

Among other things.

That's right.

Crank often writes a series of notes. Watch for similar phrasing, repetition

words, anything that points to an M .O. Then check them against our own file.

We're going to be here till February.

Shut up. Anytime you're tired of being Officer Whitfield.

Hi. Don't sit down, Sergeant. Lab picked up a pair of oxygen tanks out of

Francesca's lake. Run with it.

That was a quick visit.

Mark, how'd you like the afternoon off?

What's the car now?

You're a jazz buff.

Guilty, Your Honor. Got a friend who can answer questions about a jazz musician?

What's wrong with the union?

Not that kind of question.

I got a friend. Who am I asking about?

Mitch Kirby.

The husband?

Yes, he played drums around town before marrying Francesca.

About a year ago, there were rumors the marriage was rocky. I want anything you

can get on him.

Don't you trust anybody?

Not since the day a man sold me a $6 mink.

Let's take a break.

Rested.

How you doing, Mark?

Oh, you win a little, lose a little.

It's a nice sound, Les.

Want to play one?

Look, this isn't a place for amateurs.

I'll settle for a little information, though.

That figures.

You know, it's all over the street now that you're living with the fuzz. Look,

man, it is a job, huh?

And that's all. Don't get uptight about it, man. I'm not putting you down.

It's a job, okay?

It's a lot better than what you were doing.

What information?

Whatever you got on Mitch Kirby.

Old Freddy Profile.

That's what we used to call him.

He's a good -looking guy.

I played a few gigs with him once or twice.

Tried to. He's bad news, though.

Plainer, man. Run it on down to me. Well, he's a jived, funny -time

tuned -out musician.

Bad drummer.

Bad? Buddy Rich won't lose any sleep over him.

It's funny how it evens out, though.

No talent, still he winds up marrying that lady columnist with all the bread.

Francesca. Still the way I hear it, he hasn't changed at all.

I know a couple of bookies he's on the hook to.

And I've seen him with other broads.

He's still frustrated with playing.

He comes in every now and then, wants to sit in. I bet the cats really love

that, huh?

How did they say no?

He's so rich now, he brings his own drums.

struck out.

Forget about those rented tanks and anyone's a phony and there's no such

address.

Somebody's pitching a new hit after.

All right, let's take a ride.

I will be at the Kirby house. Telling her what? That her husband's playing

footsie? I imagine she's aware of that. I'll keep trying.

Ed, give her a hand.

Here's your hand.

Francesca? The doc's pretty sure she's been poisoned.

Relax. Give me a reason, Sam.

The man who invented the stomach pump. But it was poison.

Strychnine, no less.

A new to mouse, but definitely strychnine. Ingested when?

A lab can narrow it down, but I'd say any time in the last four or five hours.

Can I talk to her? Not for a while. I just gave her a shot.

Oh, when are we going to play some poker again? I want to get some of my loot

back. Soon.

And thanks.

All right, get on it.

I'm not a mind reader.

Strictine has to be signed for. I want a routine check of pharmacies.

That's what I was afraid of. Chief, it'll take time. Query.

Why are the young always worried about time?

They've got a corner on it. Now move.

She's all right, Mitch. I know. I just saw the doctor.

Strict and... That's insane.

Could have been dropped into food or drink. There are a dozen ways.

What is it, Mitch?

Doris.

Doris Keller.

Francesca's sister.

I don't know why, but they've always hated each other.

Five minutes in the same room and the claws come out.

Victor Rant says she was at the house today.

She and Fran had a drink and an argument.

Okay. That's it.

Okay, session's over.

I still have some film left.

Look, at $3 an hour, I can't solve all your problems. Come on.

Coox.

Is it a thick enough world for you?

World's fine.

People keep messing it up.

You weren't telling me the truth on the phone.

Fran is all right.

That's wild.

You actually think that I poisoned her?

I didn't say that.

You didn't come here to take pictures.

You're partially right, you know.

I would have done it if I had the nerve.

Shocked? People are not always what they seem. Especially Fran.

Marvelous on the outside.

All silk and perfume.

But on the inside, pure steel.

Carrara marble.

Would the real Francesca please stand up?

That's a nice hate.

Do you have a basis?

Sure.

Two sisters.

Journalism majors.

One gets a job as a police reporter.

And the other comes up with an idea.

An advice column.

Not the usual agony style, but nice and crisp and sharp.

A light touch.

So I tell my sweet sister about it.

I asked her advice.

That dear user of people.

That iron -fisted velvet hammer.

What do you think she did?

Stole the column idea from you?

Lock, stock, and money.

Somehow I haven't been able to look at a typewriter since.

Oh, and not that she hasn't made it up.

Any time I'm pressed for rent, she comes up with a few dollars.

Provided I beg, of course.

Like this afternoon.

You're a hard sale, mister.

Just doesn't sound like Fran.

Don't take my word.

This town's wall to wall with heads she's stepped on.

Care for the name of another one?

Are we through fencing, Mr. Sanford?

I had lunch with Francesca today.

You'll probably check that out anyway.

But I didn't poison her.

How's that?

It's a start.

Velvet hammer.

I haven't heard her call that in years.

It fits.

Black skin.

When she first came to me with this idea about a column, I must admit I wasn't

very interested in it, but she was persistent and attractive.

We started seeing a lot of one another, and we became an item. But she still

wanted me to do the column.

And when I continued to show no interest, why, suddenly the subject of

came into the conversation frequently.

It was gently, but firmly, consistently.

Francesca is a talented negotiator. And that's how the column was born.

Funny.

Only in fiction is there a happy ending.

My wife found out about it anyway, divorced me, and then Francesca suddenly

discovered Mitch Kirby, and there you are.

Sad violins in the background for Darren Sanford, lonely publisher.

No wife, no Francesca. Leaving you with a pretty good motive. No.

The funny part of it is...

The column is a fantastic success.

Sells an incredible amount of newspapers.

I start out as a lover and I wind up as a hat -in -hand employer trying to get

her to renew a contract.

Why did you track me down?

Went to the house. Mitch steered me here.

Between the sympathy and the fussing, I couldn't get a lick of work done.

Is this too much?

Yeah, it's something.

It's mine.

You want the 50 -cent tour?

Another time.

Uh -oh.

My father used to look like that every time he was going to panel me.

Any luck with my fan mail?

Not yet. And don't expect any.

Fran, someone had a go at you with poison.

That means someone close, someone with access.

So the note becomes something else now.

Cover, window dressing. We're not dealing with a sick fan anymore.

We both know that.

You know how many people I see every day?

Between the house, the paper, the meeting at the network, servants,

And the moving targets easiest to hit.

More chances.

All the more reason. Protection?

Let's not go through that again, please. All right, let's try something else.

Motives, people, and how much you really know about them. We're talking about

Mitch, aren't we?

Poor sweet Bob.

I know all about his weaknesses.

I can't say I like them, but I happen to be crazy for the boy, Sumi.

I'm sure you know by now I haven't exactly played it like Joan of Arc

Nice quality.

Compassion. We're not kids.

We've both been the hard route.

Basically, the marriage is solid. It just needs a little working on from time

time. As a matter of fact, that's why I'm trying to get a few weeks ahead.

So we can cruise down to Mexico and stroke up a few romantic embers. I still

wish you'd play it my way.

What's the point?

Anybody can be hit.

Of all people, you should know that.

Hello?

Oh, hi, Annie.

Anything wrong? Where are you?

I'm on my way to the airport, Mrs. Kirby.

My mother's ill down in L .A.

Oh, I'm terribly sorry, honey. Is there anything I can do?

Thanks, I'll manage.

But it may be a few days.

I've arranged for a substitute, of course.

A girl by the name of Eve Whitfield.

She's very good. I know her work.

Well, that's very considerate. I hope everything's all right.

Call me if you need anything.

Bye.

You did fine, Annie.

I just hope it was the right thing.

It is. She's not thinking too clearly at the moment. I don't want her alone now.

Well, go punch in, working girl.

Stay close and keep your eyes open. If it works out, I may stay permanently.

You knack.

You just had to be a hero.

Jumping off that buggy like that. You have the touch of a blacksmith.

So I paved my way through med school.

That lab.

How long does it take them to dust a car?

A taxpayer has money. Who hurries? They did.

A, the car was stolen, and B, they lifted a nice, clear print. Index

Get a top priority check going.

Well, you're hard to figure. I thought you'd be pleased.

Moderately.

In your own favorite words, it'll take time. Let's use it.

Thank you.

on the track mitch kirby husband or reasonable facsimile motive to kill he's

playboy there could be another woman but reason not to kill on his own he's

nothing and a rich marriage is security so he's a question next one doris keller

sister with a hate fran borrowed a million dollar idea from her she gets my

i've seen a man killed over a dollar and a quarter i don't think so sisters

rarely kill sisters

And Fran's always good for a touch, no matter how much Doris has to beg.

People talk a lot, but they usually compromise.

So, another maybe.

Now, Darren Sanford.

Publisher who lost a wife and a lot of his self -respect.

Same thing applies.

He needs Fran alive, too. As does Victor Ant.

Where's that rundown on him?

Oh, it's right here, I think.

For what it's worth, legitimate business manager agent.

No demerits, not even a parking ticket.

Good war record, too. Explosives expert. Anybody bombs anybody, we'll know where

to look.

Ironside.

Good. Any problems?

Fine.

Well, that figures.

All right, stay close and keep in touch.

Right.

Eve, she's all set.

Managed to look at the typewriters in Fran's house.

None of which match up.

Well, how easy do you want it? The world's full of typewriters.

Is that beautiful?

With the exception of Durant, everybody has a reason to kill her.

But nobody can afford to.

How do you feel about lunch?

Mr. I, I have some shopping to do.

How's your appetite?

What did you say?

Oh, never mind.

Man, forget about the shopping.

I have something else for you to do.

Got a reservation?

Cleaning man hanging up?

Why should he be any different?

It ain't him the plumbing backs upon me.

The electrician goes.

So the bartender steals.

Always some kind of a killer going on here.

Ridiculous.

Labor at daytime and management at night.

Who do I take a complaint to?

Should have stayed aside, man. At least I'll get a little sleep.

Your sympathy moves me.

All right, get to it. In about ten minutes, I got a fight with a cat about

price of soap. About Mitch Kirby.

You said he swung pretty good. Girls, dice.

But you never mentioned booze. Does he drink?

Not now.

But he did.

Majored in it. He retired Deltaway champ.

An alcoholic.

A number one lush.

That bad, huh?

Well, for a long time, he got his mail in the drunk tanks.

Of course, after he married that bread lady, it was a little easier to go.

She put him into the fanciest sanitarium in town.

They pushed him up on the wagon.

It must be good he stayed up.

Hey, how are you with the ranch?

I got a leak out there in the kitchen that sounds like cannonball editing.

Later, huh?

You'll never have a better chance, Mitch.

A little killing in mind?

I never killed.

Not yet. Should we talk about trying?

It isn't me. I love her.

Oh, God, how can I make you believe that now?

Good question.

You found out about my old problem, didn't you? I should have figured it

Strychnine, deadly poison, but used in infinitesimal amounts. In a tincture,

it's an appetite inducer. Often fed to alcoholics to make them eat. I had a

small bottle in the house.

Anyone could have gotten at it. Why didn't you say so yesterday?

What would you have thought?

What are you thinking now?

If I wanted her dead, would I use a way that points right at me? I once knew a

killer did exactly that, just so he could use the same argument.

Come in, Ed.

Mitch, I won't offer you a drink.

I didn't do it.

Maybe not.

Good night.

Got a sad story, too?

Very.

That print in the stolen car?

Forget it. It belongs to the owner.

We're dead.

Never rains.

Call the desk. Tell Eddie to put a tail on Mitch Kirby.

How does he rate one?

Still wide open. Could be anybody, but he's still our best bet.

What you're really saying is we're still running in circles.

I thought I said it better.

Thanks, I'll tell him.

Desk sergeant said the tail called in.

Mitch went straight home last night.

Stayed there.

Nobody said it was easy.

He was saying about Francesca.

Well, I can't shake the feeling that there's something between her and Victor

Rant. Yeah, that's what we need. Another complication.

Love affair?

I don't know.

It's hard to pin down.

The little things. A small glance.

An attitude.

The unsaid things.

You sound like a Victorian novel.

Or a bad case of woman's intuition.

Well, don't knock it. It's come in handy before.

It's worth more, maybe. Here we graduate to facts only.

Well, I can buy my own coffee.

Don't go away mad.

Chief, if I turn out to be right, I'll never let you up.

Eve.

Happy dictation.

Good -looking help around here. Good -looking lunch.

Shrimp Louie, what did I do right?

We are celebrating.

We are knocking our brains out. And you're going to like the reason.

Voila! You are now looking at a gal who is two weeks ahead.

How would you like to go marlin fishing off Acapulco?

We sail at dawn.

Oh, no, honey.

The cut is from here to here. Keep this line, lose the next three, and blend to

there. Of course. I didn't read it right.

For heaven's sakes.

Just not my day.

That's it. The rest is just chit -chat.

That trip's way ahead of schedule. It's supposed to be next week.

It was moved up. I'm through after today.

Good job.

You just might turn into a good cop yet.

Bye -bye.

Acapulco. How do we protect her there?

The problem had occurred to me. Why?

Why would she take a chance like that? It doesn't make any sense.

It will.

Once we stop circling and start looking in the right direction.

Which is what?

frankly, beats me.

Vic Duran.

Well, well.

A new precinct heard from.

New?

Care to talk about woman's intuition again?

The subject is safe -cracking.

Very unrewarding. A couple of insurance policies and trust deeds, legal

documents, things like that.

And this, whatever this is.

What's the matter?

It's what you almost did.

This is a dynamite cap.

You mean it could have... It could indeed.

Anything else?

Odd thing to be in a safe.

Is it?

Look at the date it was stored.

That's the date the death threat was mailed.

There's a time and place for everything, you know.

Business hours are from 9 to 5.

I mean, waking a man up in the middle of the night.

Mr. Willard, I'll pay the flaming overtime.

Now open the box.

Just as you say, sir.

Well, don't just stand there. Open the box. Do what the man says.

There's a worn -out E.

Well, it's a brand -new ballgame.

That's the name of the game, isn't it, Fran?

Death.

The question is whose.

Marvelous.

Marvelous. All the trappings.

Like there really was going to be a trip to Acapulco.

Robert, what is it? What are you talking about?

How it really was.

A girl with a problem.

A husband she wants dead.

Oh, but this is a bright girl.

She's worked with the police.

Knows how they think.

She can't risk having it point back to her.

You really serious?

So she switches the face of it.

Sets up a reign of terror against herself.

It's simple, clean, almost brilliant.

There's a threatening note. A couple of murder tries.

Staged in front of witnesses by Victor Ant, man of all dirty work.

That's insane.

Then at dawn, the finale.

Right here.

You and Mitch alone.

Only at the last minute, you'd find an excuse to go ashore.

And poor Mitch, he'd never know about the bomb Victorant planted.

Result? No more Mitch.

Killed by mistake.

By a killer trying for you. You're crazy. You don't know what you're

about.

Tom's dismantled.

We have Durant, and Mitch isn't coming.

It's over, friend. Don't you understand?

Why, Fran?

Girl with all the answers.

Francesca Kirby, blackmail victim.

Mitch? Because of one stinking minute almost three years ago.

We were driving along the beach road.

I'd had a couple of drinks.

An old man came up out of nowhere.

I hit him.

Panic just kept on going.

The paper said he wasn't badly hurt, but... Hit and run, goodbye column,

everything. Your marriage was Mitch's idea?

How could I say no?

He never lets up. He's a monster.

Sure clears the sinuses.

You know, I still can't figure out why Fran kept that typewriter.

Why do people bronze the baby's first pair of shoes?

Sentiment?

She wrote her first column on it. What'll happen to her?

Charge reads conspiracy.

Plus that old hit and run.

Won't be easy.

Hey, that's pretty good for a girl.

I've still got that check Fran gave me.

Spot me ten balls and I'll play you for it.

We might do some business after dinner.

The world's full of hustlers.

Eyes in the back of his head.

It's ridiculous.