All language subtitles for kojak_s01e02_web_of_death

Either you jock so much as move, you'll
wind up in the moral of that Dixie cup.

You got nothing on us, man.

I want six nickel bags.

Now, you call that dealing.

I need this simple, Farrell.

How about 90 days at Rikers? Will that
satisfy him?

You gonna toss me, too?

No, Pinky, you I'm gonna blow to a bay
shirt in it.

Look at that dude fly.

All right, Pinky.

Give. I swallowed it. Come on. You
swallow a bush of kitty litter before

swallow that fix. Give.

I don't know what you want with me. I'm
nothing.

I need an arrest, baby. You may be
nothing, but you're mine nothing.

Hey, man, wait. Listen. I'm really been
bad.

It's two days in psychopathy.

Let me go, huh?

I gotta nod, man. I just gotta.

You got your kid with you?

Manhattan South Precinct Detective
Squad.

Sergeant Vine speaking.

Farrell, what are you doing up?

I figured you'd be tucking in bed by
this time.

You what?

Now, driving home from my sister's, I
made a narcotics collar.

I busted him in hand to hand.

Okay, okay, so I'm bucking for cop of
the month. Just dig me up a fresh

typewriter ribbon, will you, Sarge? I'll
be there in ten minutes.

What was that about?

You're not gonna believe me.

We love you. All right, come on,
everybody, wait.

Lieutenant, it's here. Here he is.

After my job, sir, I would just say so.

Okay, sorry to have carried it away.

I get those ripples, too, but then I
think of all that paperwork.

So if you want to save yourself the
paperwork, next time you get that

gung -ho coming on, do what I always do.

What's that?

You whistle down a rookie patrolman and
hand the collar over to him.

I'm booking up in here.

Oh.

Good luck.

Oh, yeah, I'll need a property envelope.

All right, Sergeant.

And what, might I ask, Detective Farrow,
is this supposed to be?

It's not vitamin E, Sergeant.

No, that is not.

And it sure isn't Big Harry.

Be dumb and be jabbers, man.

You can't jug a junkie for shooting
soap.

Car 723, 10 -4.

Close the door.

Sit down.

Sit down.

How much for me again, why don't you?

I need you too much for my head, like
come what.

You were my alibi, junkie.

Foolproof and airtight.

That's why I allowed you to fix.

With you flying on an oven fresh high,
you wouldn't remember the end of the

world.

But your connection was pushing roach
powder.

It was cut so many ways it wouldn't
freak the midget.

And you came down fast than I counted
on.

Fast enough to dig on a tune overheard
in a service alley.

And to note maybe the fact that you were
all alone in the car.

And that Detective Farrow was nowhere to
be seen.

Well, that's... That's bad news all
around, Hype.

It's bad for me.

It's bad for you.

I'm holding, Pinky.

Get the cooker going.

I never cop.

No, poor man. You bounce me off the
walls, I wouldn't cop.

A junkie's promise.

The supreme high, Pinky.

Like it comes off the boat.

Forensic been notified?

On the way. The M .E.? Yeah.

Who's that?

Mr. Palachak, the building super. He
found the body. It is really the noise,

Victorola. People, people could,
impatience, they complain.

I can understand that, so I just phoned
and there was no answer.

Though I put my clothes on, went
upstairs and knocked, knocked.

Nothing again.

Though I opened up here with my pasky.

Well, it's not playing now.

Yeah, of course. I turned it off.

You shouldn't have done that, Mr.
Poroshek.

Did you touch anything else?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course.

The door knob.

Hi,

sweetheart.

You should have called. I would have put
something in the oven.

No, I caught a beef dip at McGinnis's.

But could I ever use a highball?

Hard day, darling?

Yeah. I'll breathe.

Hey, redhead.

How's that drink coming?

I'm parched.

In a minute, babe. I'm just calling
Dolly to remind her we're on for

tomorrow.

Who's on standby?

Just a second.

Farrow and Oldman.

All right, drag him off the charts and
give him a fourth whiff.

Why do you drink so much? What do I do?

Everything you like to do is wrong.

According to you, everything I like to
do is either illegal, immoral, or

fattening. Good morning.

How do you feel?

I swung by. I figured we'd ride in
together.

I caught a homicide.

Oh, Nick just got home.

Kojak's orders must be heavy.

Mayfair apartment. Some guy named
Harris.

Hey.

You look awful.

You should see me without the pancake.

Don't wait up.

Oh, no.

Absolutely no way the killer could have
gotten past you. Not through the front

lobby, no, sir. 7 p .m. to 7 a .m.
Nobody enters or exits that I don't

Tradespeople, tenants, guests, everybody
logs in and out.

Everybody.

7 to 7 and no relief.

You must have cement kidneys.

Okay, so no non -bonafide entered the
premises after you came on duty.

How about before?

Someone could have entered during the
daylight? Hidden somewhere?

Waited for nightfall, committed the
murder, and then slipped out through a

service exit?

Yeah, but it still didn't explain how he
got into the apartment.

The door was locked, you know.

And no sign of any break -in.

You know, that's a very good point, Mr.
Polichek. Thank you.

20 feet from the door, why there?

A cannon is pointing at him, and he
stands there sipping a martini.

At a guess, approximately 10 .30.

He'll get my fine line with your
breakfast oatmeal.

Whoever did it.

Tell him Magajanian said he's some fancy
shooter.

Oh, you should be home in bed only.

Whoa.

Come back here, Doctor.

Oh, Magajanian's right.

I think floaters out of the East River
look better than you do. I'm okay, Theo.

I'll be okay, Theo. I say, Judicone, I
hope the whole beach will be thrown sand

in your face.

Would you take him inside and do a
number on him? If it's catching, I don't

to hear about it.

What's the matter with you?

Oh, nothing.

Just a slight case of athlete's foot,
but I'm off the critical list.

Well, I'm glad to hear that.

Because this case has warts on it, okay.

Victim leased the apartment a year ago
under the name of Edward Harris.

The ID on his billfold reads Quincy
Forsyth.

Name partner to a Wall Street law firm.

Scarsdale home address.

He used the apartment infrequently.

Never weekends, always at night.

An occasional Wednesday matinee. The
doorman's lock can provide you with

dates.

There was a string of mall knockouts.
The last bond named Miss Johnson. You

putting this down?

Yeah. Miss Johnson?

She must have copped rave reviews
because he held her over about three

Okay, she arrived this evening around 7
.30.

Ingram, that's the doorman, permitting
her to go straight up. Those being the

instructions from Mr. Harris or Mr.
Forsythe or whatever you want to call

And at 10 .30, according to RME, he
shuffled off his mortal coil.

What time did you say she left?

Shortly before 10.

Then that's her uphook.

Well, that's neat. A very neat homicide,
right, gang? Culprit and motive. But I

should worry. I've got you and Olney on
the job. I can take two weeks in the

cat's kilts.

One week. Olney's been scratched.

Of course, it's a long time since I
probed the vitals of a living person,

first -year med student couldn't
diagnose the fact that Detective Olney

Ruptured appendix.

Sorry, partner.

I thought it was just a case of measles.

Take care.

What are you worried about? You'll have
a partner.

Me?

Information, yes, please. I'd like the
number of Quincy, 4th Scythe, 911,

Woodbridge Drive, Scarsdale.

The first thing we should do is try
to...

Get a line on this Johnson chick. See if
we can't run down to the cab and pick

her up tonight, huh?

Yes, what was that number again?

Who's around?

I mean, three months on the best fellow
list, you must have left some souvenirs.

Yes, this is the New York City Police
Department.

Lieutenant Kojak.

Manhattan South Detective Squad.

I'm calling in regard to Mr. Quincy
Forsythe.

His wife?

Yes, I think you'd better wake her.

Yes, I know it's late, but it's urgent.

Yes, Lieutenant Kojak.

Yes, I'll wait.

In two years, Lefkowitz, you'll be a
hopeless diabetic.

You got the domain's log? Sure, right
here.

Where'd you leave your car? I'll drop
you off.

No, I didn't hold it. It drove me in.
All right. Come on, I'll drive you home.

That's all right. I'll take the subway.

Why, good mug. Come on.

Just one.

Or maybe just a quick one.

Right?

How's the little fella doing?

Retson okay?

Retsina, you've got to be kidding.

You're actually holding?

It's not exactly a big demand.

Five years and I still have the same
bottle you gave us for our housewarming.

It doesn't spoil, does it? It doesn't
spoil. You buy it rotten.

You could drop a dead cat in it. It
wouldn't make any difference.

I think I'll call St. Luke's and see how
old he is.

Good.

How's the world treating you, Jo?

Like a fairy princess.

You?

Well, I'm parting my hair a little bit
differently.

Hey, I'm sorry to be dragging your old
man out at this ungodly hour.

It's okay.

That's why they invented the back end.

Yeah, well, that's great. That's great.
Thank you very much. Thank you.

Well, the operation was a huge success.

Good. And only he's resting comfortably
in post -operative care.

In a year from now, he'll be telling us
he got the scar from a big dockside

rumble.

Red, you're not joining us?

No, I'm way ahead of you.

Well, I guess I'd better split.

I got a big day tomorrow.

Yeah, well, your big day is my big day.

Thanks, Joe. See you tomorrow.

That was my engagement gift to you.

It cost me a three -week salary.

Where do you hide your wig?

All right, with this, we close the door.
There will be no discussion.

And neither of us will ever refer to
this again.

Now, when I presume you to be home, you
will be home.

Yes. And when you tell me you're going
someplace with the girls, that's exactly

and precisely what you're going to do,
with every second rigidly accounted for.

Do you read me, Joanna?

Yes, yes.

Now, he never phoned you, did he? I
mean, there's no way they can connect

No, I was very careful.

Oh.

Then how come I found out?

Soap, soap, soap.

Ferro's heavy drug collar, big yellow
stuff.

Turns out he was carrying a stone.

All right. What do you got for me?

Autopsy confirmed.

Time of death, 10 .30 p .m. Oh.

That good Janey must be doing
handstands.

The epileptics identified the make of
the weapon.

A 9mm Browning, silencer equipped.

Is that a super match -up?

It's already in the works.

From the female attire hanging in the
closet, plus some lingerie we found in

dresser drawer.

Forensic is able to give us some
reconstructive statistics regarding the

probable height, weight, and age of the
lady known as Miss Johnson.

Dormant could tell me that. Ah, but he
couldn't figure this.

The tatling sheets on Forsyth's bed
indicate that an indoor track meet took

place between 8 and 10 p .m. last night,
and that the female contestant wore an

inexpensive, over -the -counter, blonde,
nylon wig.

Okay, so what do you want? A
departmental citation or a free trip to

I'll settle for a cup of coffee.

Are you kidding me? All right, go ahead.
I'm buying. Just lost your point,

Sergeant.

Would it make it to the morgue yet?

Yeah, Crocker was with her. He got a
written statement. How'd she take it?

Like a Spartan.

It seems her husband chasing around came
as no surprise to her. The way she saw

it, as long as he kept it out of
Scarsdale, it was simply a harmless

know, like collecting stamps.

Is she alibied?

Up to her earlobes.

It seems while Mr.

Forsythe was being aced...

Mrs. Forsythe was hostessing a party for
the local chapter of the Beethoven

Society.

That'd be a moral ass someplace.

There lying on the carpet underneath
coffee table.

What the devil is it?

That could be a tinfoil or a crumpled
cellophane.

Well, there's nothing in forensics
inventory that fills that pill.

Prince, what's your beef?

Hey, Kojak.

Of course we did. We vacuumed the whole
apartment.

Well, if it is not on the inventory,
somebody must have swung with it.

Now, look, you blow up that photo, and
if it turns out nice, maybe I can swing

showing at the Guggenheim, okay?

Thank you. Any progress with the cab
companies?

That could have been a cruising gypsy
cab picked her up.

An off -duty hack sneaking an unreported
fare?

Oh, the same. You stay with it. Miss
Johnson came from somewhere, and Miss

Johnson had to go somewhere.

You're not saying that maybe she iced
Forsythe?

Why not?

She could have paid for the taxi a block
away, then doubled back.

The doorman said she had her own key,
right?

She could have come early, sneaked in,
and then left, leaving the service door

entrance open.

A woman with a handgun, six yards from
her target, squeezes off a shot and hits

him between the eyes. Come on, Theo.

How about the silencer? She didn't pick
that up at her favorite boutique.

Well, uh, I didn't say it was an idea I
cherished.

Now, what's your theory, Sherlock?

A professional hit?

Well, it's got all the earmarks, hasn't
it? Now, you show me a lawyer who hasn't

made some enemies, and I'll show you a
notary public.

Oh.

Princess Takeout, what do you have?

Any evidence to indicate the color of
Miss Johnson's natural hair?

No?

What, did you check Forsythe's comb and
brush that?

Well, try the bathtub.

The drain.

Pick up the pipes if necessary.

Just doesn't scan.

Quincy's Forsythe and a nylon wig.

That's Chateaubriand and how many grits.

You know, if he'd gone, the hooker would
have been okay, but that wasn't his

scene.

So if Miss Johnson wasn't wearing the
wig for show... She was wearing it as a

disguise.

Brilliant.

Assuming Wall Street law firms keep
normal business hours, it's time we paid

call on Brickeridge, Rathbone, Myers and
Forsythe.

Hey, Pete.

Hey, man, it's Elmo.

Well, two hours, nine interviews, and a
common consensus.

Quincy Forsythe was a prince among men.
He was the paragon of integrity.

And he had an enemy in the world.

He had one.

Miss Johnson's husband.

Her husband. Where'd you get that?
Forsythe secretary.

She says he only played around with
marriage stuff. It was a cardinal rule.

No widows, no divorcees, no maidens. And
no complications.

That was the idea, anyway.

So you're a bored suburban husband
looking to connect with some bored

housewife? For being a big -time
Manhattan barrister, you have to keep a

profile.

I guess we'd better go talk to someone
at Mr. Forsythe's favorite watering

the time -out.

that one. Hey, how can I forget? She was
something else, let me tell you.

Just as hungry as them, if you know what
I mean.

That's through four days of steady
propositions, bobbing and weaving before

decided to score.

Must have taken. She hasn't been back
since.

Is this the dude?

Yeah, that's him.

You know, funny thing.

Some joker was in here a couple of weeks
ago asking about the same blonde.

Can you describe him?

Women I remember, Dad, but men, well,
they're, uh, they're just like suits and

ties to me, you know?

Just sit tight.

You located a scarecrow, but he's not
going to do us much good unless we can

give him something he can take a look
at. Uh, hold on. All right, ballistics

follow -up. The slug that cooled
Forsythe matches the one dug out of a

wounded in a liquor store hold -up six
months ago.

It's just what we needed. Hey, just
trying to make your day.

You give me everything you can on that
package store, shooting and making

No sooner said.

It's not tinfoil, it's not cellophane.

It's a piece of jewelry.

A pendant, a brooch, an earring.

But what the hell happened to it?

Stavros. Come here.

All right, you've had five years in
burglary. What's your opinion?

Mid -range quality.

It's not Cartier's.

Well, it could be traceable.

Why don't you have it blown up some
more, circulated through the jewelry

see what shakes?

Thank you very much.

You can put my name at the top of your
Christmas list.

Guess what we found in the shower drain?

A redhead.

Prince, you're a pussycat.

All right, Nick.

I want you to assemble the doorman at
the Mayfair Towers.

The cab driver.

The bartender at the time out.

Put him in a room with a departmental
artist.

And come up with a version of Miss
Johnson.

A red -headed version.

Thanks.

Hello,

Joanna. Now listen, you still have the
jewel box that the brooch came with?

I get it.

I need the name and address to replace
where I purchased it.

Don't you remember that?

No, I don't remember. It was West 45th
Street, I think.

It's been six years.

Just get it, okay?

What are you going to do?

Do what I have to do.

Someplace there's my name on a sales
record.

I have to destroy it.

I was checking the hospital to find out
about Olney. Oh, yeah, give my best.

What did you say?

Cornblith Jewelers, 337 West 45th. Ah,
you say you're taking a nap. Well,

all right. No, don't bother. I'll call
later. Thank you very much. Thank you.

Thank you. Still hold up.

Here's the report.

Crime suspect, a Forster Bridges.

There's a yellow sheet on him the size
of Delaware.

Victim failed to make a positive ID, and
since the arresting officer couldn't

produce the weapon, the case was
dropped.

Well, then our Bridges is our boy,
right?

Well, he can't be in two places more,
it's getting.

And one place we know he was when
Forsyte was being killed was in the

sweating out a B &E.

But the gun wasn't at the tombs.

And a piece doesn't care who uses it.

Now, look, I'm going down to the tombs.
You stick around here. Bear down on that

sketch of Miss Johnson.

She's a redhead. Right.

Hey, Nick.

What? I was just down in the morgue
checking on a John Doe.

You know who else was there?

Your pal, Pinky.

Go on, be my guest.

make no promises, baby.

It's like I'm still studying on it. Nice
private cell.

Little sweet daughter to DA.

Speedy, swift trial.

Sixty days from now, you're back out on
the street, huh?

Oh, yeah.

Now, that's some heavy, heavy necktie
you got.

I mean, a cat on the loose could cop an
awful lot of heavy, heavy trade with a

tie like that.

Buster, you drive a hard bargain.

He didn't waste that, O 'Fay.

Who didn't?

He's hustling cars, you dig?

Cannon's just for status.

I mean, like ain't no uptown mama gonna
fat mouth the brother who's packing a

magnum under his vines.

Who, Forster?

Who? What was that name again,
Lieutenant?

Burgess Hannibal?

Right.

Where's Farrow? Went to get something to
eat.

Hey, Theo, don't worry about it.
Christmas is coming. What does that

We're going to take a collection and get
you some ties.

Were they sure, Wiener?

Well, they weren't the best eyewitnesses
I've ever dealt with.

They seemed fairly certain at the
beginning, but when Farrell pinned them

down... All right.

Add them right off and distribute them.

Okay.

Here are the yellow pictures on
Bridget's family.

Dig those priors.

Crocker!

Mediowina just left. Get her back here.

dispatch a squad car to the Mayfair
Towers and collect that doorman Ingram.

And one more thing.

I want to see Nick Farrow's work
schedule for the past three months.

Theo, Nick Farrow?

Light a candle, baby.

A get -well card won't do.

That's her. That's her to a T.

I told him the nose was all wrong, but
that detective... Thank you very much

coming down. I appreciate it.

It was the thylaster. I should have
picked up then.

What?

I don't know. He could have known. He
hadn't seen the ballistics report.

But I figured when he mentioned it,
after 16 years on the force, a man's

entitled to an educated guess.

There are other signals, too. I was just
slow in tuning in.

A day, you call that slow?

Oh, Frank, it hurts.

I pinned the gold on him myself.

Leo, don't gouge yourself.

He kept it polished.

Until last night.

You're not sure of it, huh?

Not sure?

Oh, look, Frank.

Nick's past duty schedule.

The exact dates that Forsyte spent over
at his apartment.

For the past three months, they coincide
exactly with the times that Nick was

put on night duty.

After the package store shooting, Forced
to Bridges, unloads his Browning on

Burgess Venable. He warns him that the
piece is hot, but Venable doesn't care.

He only wants it for show anyway.

Two months ago, Venable is collared on a
morals charge.

Later released.

Arresting officer, our hero, Nick
Farrell.

No mention here of any weapons
confiscation?

Check. And there should have been.

You know, Forster said that Venable was
so in love with that cannon that he even

slept with it.

There's just one thing wrong with that,
Lieutenant.

Farrow's alibi for the time of the
Forsythe job.

He phoned in a drug caller ten minutes
before.

You positive of that, Sergeant? Captain
McNeil, I logged it myself.

Farrow needed an airtight alibi. What
could be sweeter?

I want to interview that junkie. No way.

Inky Hollister was so happy that he was
released, he went home and OD'd.

Did you see the autopsy?

No.

This is Lieutenant Kojak, Manhattan
South.

Let me speak to Agajanian.

Hello, Doc.

You processed an OD today? Name's
Hollister? What's his story?

Yeah, it figures.

Thanks.

Eighty -seven percent pure.

As lethal as a cyanide pellet.

Now, what's a nickel bag hype doing with
uncut horse, huh?

Or a street pusher, for that matter.

Only an importer handles the product
before it's cut.

Or a cop who's in on a high -level bust,
like the Pellegrini collar which

occurred this past summer with Olney and
Farrell.

So that makes it two homicides.

Exactly. Which explains the piece of
jewelry.

explains Joanna's hepatitis.

Even the precise time of Forsythe's
murder, which for Ferris' purposes had

occur at the exact time that he and his
partner were the next up on the

assignment roster.

So he could catch his own kiss.

The only thing he didn't anticipate was
only his appendicitis.

Circumstantial, Theo, all of it. Yeah.

I know it's circumstantial.

But it won't be once I've spoken to
Burgess Venable.

Al, I need a location on Nick Farrow.

Car 723, we have a location on Detective
Farrow. Car 425, west 89th Street. Car

723, 10 -4.

Hold it, pal!

What's the point?

Where would you go?

You said we went to out of Mongolia.
Kill Timothy.

Kill him.

Send an ambulance to 485 West 89th
Street.

Right away.

Corn Bluth's jewelry on West 45th
Street.

Chances are they never would have
remembered me, but their sales records

First Burgess Venable, and then the
jewelers, and then home to the little

right?

Well, that was the idea.

You wouldn't have stopped there, Nick.

Then the cab driver, and then the
doorman, and then the bartender at the

out. And you know something? In the end,
Nick,

It would have been me.

I guess I always knew that after you
took over from... For Olney.

But I gave you good time.

I always gave you my best, didn't I?

Didn't I, Theo?

It's not what you gave me. Me and your
party favors.

It's the badge.

You used it, Nick.

And that's not what it's there for.

It's not a credit card.

It was personal.

What's the matter? A cop can't be human.
He can't be like other people.

You tried it.

What's your answer?