All language subtitles for perry_mason_s08e25_deadly_debt

Thank you.

How you doing? Oh, Irene.

Well, who were you expecting, honey? The
FBI?

I wasn't expecting anyone. Oh, good. I'm
glad to hear you say that.

I was about to go beddy -bye, and then I
thought our bumping into each other

accidentally this afternoon might lead
to fun after all. Fun? How?

Well, it's closing down to the Paris
Follies over at the Pine Tree Lodge. I

don't want to go over there by myself,
but together it's... Of course, if

having a winning streak, I don't know
that I want to break that up. No, no

winning streak. In fact, I'm about even.

What time does the show start?

11 .30, about 20 minutes from now.

Come on, cash these in and be my guest.

Okay. Might be fun.

See you at the door. Okay.

A couple of hundred dollar travel
checks, okay?

We'd be quite happy to cash a personal
check, Mr. Barnes. Yeah, and have my

find out I've been up here. No, thanks.
Well, Mrs. Aldridge.

Aren't you Mrs. Aldridge? Oh, yes. I'm
Mrs. Aldridge. The man over there would

like to speak to you.

Before you cash in your tip.

The man with the hundred and glasses.
Oh,

thank you.

Did you understand?

Yeah.

Hey, that's a nice little sum you got
there, Mrs. Ogden.

$3 ,500 if my count is correct.

And I think it is.

You've been watching me? Yeah.

With a great deal of interest.

Why? Well, I thought maybe I could buy
in on the action if it's all the same to

you.

Or may I?

Why do you want my book?

Well, I thought maybe it would bring me
some luck like it has you so far, Mrs.

Ogden. But I haven't won anything.

Well, I happen to believe different.

Five hundred dollars.

There you are.

Oh.

You know something?

I got an odd feeling that your luck had
just run out.

Go get her and bring her back.

This is Ogden. The gang's over. Hold it
right there.

I did keep an eye peeled like you told
me to, Mr. Searle. But as far as I could

see, she was playing on the level.

Did you notice anybody? Anybody that
could have been with her?

Well, this blonde, a real cool number,
she came up and spoke to her. But it

sounded like they knew each other from
before.

Not like they were working together.

The blonde called her Myrna.

Is that any help?

Oh, yeah, that's a lot of help.

There are only 10 ,000 Myrnas in
California, if that's where she's from.

How much did she take you for, Mr.
Searle?

Well, the boys aren't through checking
yet, but it's about ten grand.

Phew.

Say that again.

Okay, beat it.

Yeah.

Well?

A real cutie, that baby.

The license number's issued to a renter
car joined in Reno.

You got anybody watching the place?

Yeah, but she never shows. She could
turn that car into any one of a hundred

other branches or just ditch it
someplace.

She signed in as Mrs.

Richard Ogden, 3320 Calmea Street, San
Francisco.

That won't do any good, Tony. There's no
such street in San Francisco.

Well, there goes our dough.

Over my dead body.

All I want is ten minutes alone with
her.

Yeah, how do you figure out a range in
that?

Maybe through these.

Let me see those.

Just the right color.

50 tip wrappers, just like ours, only
the paper's a different color.

Where'd you find these?

In the parking area where her car was.

Before she went into that hit -and -run
routine with me.

Take a look at the printing on the side.

Warren Novelli Company, Hollywood,
California.

I really appreciate this, Perry.

It seemed easier to drop by on my way to
the office than have you come all the

way downtown.

No, I meant the property settlement with
Myrna. I realize it's not particularly

your cup of tea, but since you did help
set up the company and also settled the

patent infringement case for me, I just
naturally turned to you again.

And besides, I figured that if anyone
could help keep this company intact,

be you.

I can't take any credit for that.

Two years of marriage, no children.

You're giving Myrna far more than she's
entitled to.

The only problem that remains is how to
persuade her to let the money be put

into a cut fund in lieu of a cash
settlement. It must be put in cut,

Otherwise, it'll be gone in a month.

Besides, I figure it's the least I can
do, having struck out as a husband.

Compulsive gambling's a disease like
compulsive drinking or kleptomania.

It's a problem for a psychiatrist, not a
husband.

Well, even so, I could have done a
little bit more to help instead of those

knock -down, drag -out scenes.

Both of us losing our temper, I just
might have used a little more patience

understanding. What is it, Mr. Warren?
Yes, what is that? There's a man outside

who insists on seeing you right now.

Oh, what does he want? I don't know. He
says he's an investigator from the

County Department of Licenses and
Permits.

Is that his name, Peter?

Maybe your dot's going from his lab.

I'll contact you after I've talked with
my attorney.

I'll be here all day, Kurt.

Mr. Leonard?

Mr. Warren.

Sorry to bust in on you like this, Mr.
Warren, but I'm on kind of a tight

schedule. My credentials?

The signature, in case you can't
decipher it, is Jacob Leonard. Now, what

do for you, Mr. Leonard?

Answer a few questions I've been told to
ask you.

But before I ask, maybe I'd better tell
you I'm working in cooperation with the

DA's office.

You see, I used to be with the Nevada
Gaming Commission.

And when anything on gambling comes up,
why, uh, do they toss it to me?

Gambling? Am I supposed to be mixed up
in some sort of gambling? Is that it?

You recognize that, don't you?

Yes, it's one of our poker chip
wrappers. Yes, with a company name

it.

Besides playing chips, you manufacture
fancy ones, don't you?

Yes, for private parties and people that
want something special. Well, what is

all this about, Mr. Leonard?

And where did you find this?

In Nevada.

And what it's about, I was hoping you
could tell me.

No, I can't, but if you...

I can see your way clear, so clue me in
a little further.

One further clue.

The dark -haired lady at the roulette
table.

You recognize her?

Yes?

No, I'm busy right now.

Can I call you back?

No, Peter, now!

I have to see you now. They may have
followed me from Nevada. They may be

any minute.

Gamblers. And I don't know what they'll
do. Kill me, maybe.

Please, Peter.

Please. You're the only one I can turn
to.

Please, come to the apartment.

I drove all night just to see you. To
talk to you.

Please.

I'll get there as soon as I can.

I'm sorry.

That's all right.

The dark period leading?

Oh, yes, the dark -haired lady. Am I
supposed to know her?

You don't.

She's very pretty, Mr. Leonard, but I'm
afraid I don't know.

I see.

Well, thanks a lot.

You're still not going to tell me what
all this is about, eh?

Well, since it obviously doesn't concern
you, Mr. Warren, can you think of any

reason why I should?

No, no, I can't.

See you around.

Verna?

Hello, Peter.

Hello, Verna.

I heard the bell, but I was in the
shower.

I'm sorry I missed you at the office.

Missed me?

Yes, I called back to tell you not to
come over.

Turned out to be a tempest in a teapot.
Sounded more like a hurricane than a

tempest. Gamblers following you,
probably trying to kill you. Myrna, I

like to know the story.

But you care. I told you, everything's
all right now. I care because you're

still legally my wife, whether you like
it or not. And also because I know the

whopping big lie trying to protect you.
Myrna, I would like to know the whole

story. If you must know, I wrote a check
on your account.

It's a pretty big one.

$3 ,000.

And then they found out we were
separated.

They being the Nevada gamblers, huh?
Yes.

They tried to stop me from leaving, but
I got away, and I was in a panic, and I

drove all night, and then I called you.

And then I started thinking, $3 ,000
isn't very much money, not in Nevada.

So I called them, and I asked them if I
could pay it back in installments.

And they said I could.

So you see, it was a test.

I didn't know you so well, Myrna. I just
might believe that.

Are you accusing me of lying?

Put it any way you like.

Could it be that they caught you
cheating?

You can ask me that, knowing me as well
as you do.

You'd better leave, Peter, while we're
still on speaking terms.

Speaking terms or not, I'm going to get
to the bottom of this murder. Now, if

you weren't cheating, what was it then?
Why were you so scared, and how am I

involved? Peter, no!

I'm not going to let you go until you
tell me the truth! I'll tell you

round one, but I'm going to stay right
here until you're ready to talk.

Hey, Mr. Warren.

If anything urgent comes up, I'm at Mrs.
Warren's apartment.

Yes, I'll call you when I decide to
leave, yes.

Oh, by the way, did Mrs. Warren call the
office after I left?

She did.

Well, thanks.

I promise not to blame you, not to do
anything. Will you tell me what

Murder!

Murder!

Well, Mr.

Warren.

We meet again.

By any chance, Mr. Leonard, are you
following me?

No.

I was looking for Mrs.

Warren.

She's not here?

I don't care who she is, does it?

No?

No, I can't say that it does.

Any idea where she might be?

No, I don't.

And you still don't recognize the dark
-haired lady, hmm?

Neighbors say it's your wife.

Suppose I say that it is.

Well, my suggestion would be that you
come down to the DA's office.

You have some explaining to do.

All right, let's go.

Before you tell us what happened at the
book attorney's office, Peter, let me

ask you something.

What made you lie to Leonard?

Myrna's phone call. She sounded like she
was on some kind of a bind, and I

wanted to give her a chance to explain
before I put the finger on her. I didn't

mean failing to identify the photograph.
That's understandable.

Then why did you tell Leonard she wasn't
in the apartment?

By then she'd told you everything was
all right.

I didn't believe her. I still don't. You
admitted at the district attorney's

office that you'd lied? About the
photograph, yes, but I never said

about the phone call or her being in the
apartment.

Look, I got to see her, Perry.
Especially now that I know what's

Could that be counterfeit gambling
chips?

How'd you know that, Mr. Drake?

Well, I've heard rumors that some of the
Nevada clubs have taken a beating the

past few weeks. So Leonard asking you
what kind of chips you could manufacture

sort of added up.

Well, the club's losses, according to
the assistant district attorney, a man

named Cantwell, who talked to me, the
amount was close to $200 ,000.

That is a beating.

And the authorities suspect, I take it,
that you've been counterfeiting the

chips and that Myrna's been passing
them.

Of course, I told Cantwell the whole
idea was cockeyed.

Why would I risk a business that nets
$50 ,000 a year for me to take a flyer

some fake gambling chips?

What did Cantwell say to that?

He asked my permission to examine my
books and to search the plant. Of

said I couldn't do anything like that
until I checked with you first.

I see no reason why you shouldn't give
him permission.

But how is it he's handling the
investigation instead of the police?

Well, I gather the people in Nevada feel
there'll be less publicity.

That figures, Perry.

Does any of the wise boys there hate us
for having known they've been played for

Tucker?

Yes, and more often than not, if they've
been played for Tucker, they take care

of it themselves.

Then that's why Mrs. Warren was so
frightened.

It appears so, Della.

We'd better get busy on this, Paul.

Find out how the racket was worked, the
names of the gamblers who were fleeced,

where they took the photograph of Myrna.

And where they found the poker chip
wrapper.

Everything he can run down.

Could mean going to Nevada.

That's all right.

In the meantime, Peter, if you're going
back to talk to Bernard, let's go.

No, but you could have gone far and made
coats in the hallway.

Why don't I wait here until she gets
back, and then I'll give you a call.

All right, Tim.

Either call or bring her down to the
office.

All right.

Make sure it's one of the other theater.
I must talk to her.

All right.

about it. They may be here any minute.

Gamblers. And I don't know what they'll
do.

Kill me, baby.

Please be here.

Please. You're the only one I can tell.

Anybody home?

Hi.

Long time no see.

Hello, Irene.

Is Myrna home? No, she isn't.

Oh.

She didn't get back then.

Apparently not.

Back from where?

Tahoe. I ran into her up at the Sierra
Tahoe yesterday.

In fact, we were going to a show
together until she skipped out on me to

home, I thought.

Well, apparently she went someplace
else.

Did she say anything to you about being
in trouble?

Why, what makes you ask that?

Oh, just something that happened this
morning.

Well, she'd hardly confide in me. We're
only friendly neighbors.

But you know, now that I stop to think
about it, something sort of strange did

happen. What do you mean, strange?

Well, like I said, we were going to see
a show together, and so she was going to

go cash in her chips. She was playing
roulette.

But before she could, this odd -looking
little man got a hold of her. Now, what

he said or did to her, I don't know,
except she took off out of there like

seen a zombie. But this odd -looking
little man, do you think you'd know him

again if you saw him?

Well, I think so.

Sure, I'll play ball with him. Why
wouldn't I?

Right.

Well, Mr. Drake, Mr. Big and Reno says
you're okay.

So, you're okay.

Sit down.

Thanks, sir.

But why no's around here?

After all, several of the other clubs in
the area, they took a worse beating

than I did, or so I'm told.

Well, yours was the most recent, Mr.
Saro, and $10 ,000 isn't exactly hay.

You can say that again.

All right.

What do you want to know?

Well, the woman who was passing the
counterfeit chips got away, I was told.

Yeah, it's almost killing my friend here
in the process.

How'd you get on to her in the first
place? Well, that's Ned's department.

Do you want to tell him about it?

Well, we were watching for a hit after
the others.

So when one of the croupiers reported a
woman playing in an unusual way, betting

high and handsome for a couple hours,
then leaving the table for a half hour

so, I pretty well knew.

What's so unusual about that?

The normal heavy gambler, Mr. Drake,
never leaves the table until he's

playing. Oh.

So you think that the woman during those
various half hours or so was

replenishing her supply of counterfeit
chips?

Yeah. Cash in a minute at the rate of
about three grand for each time out.

How come you or the cashier or somebody
didn't spot the chips' traits when she

cashed them in?

Because they weren't.

I don't get it. The roulette table, Mr.
Drake. That's where she was getting rid

of her chips.

An hour's heavy play, winning a little,
losing a little. It didn't matter much,

and she had them all mixed in with the
house chips.

But even so, I should think the croupier
would have noticed.

Here, Mr. Drake, let me show you
something.

Now, at least half of these chips are
phony.

Let's see you pick them out.

They all look alike.

They are alike.

Perfect counterfeits? Not so tough to
do, Mr. Drake.

Plastic like that you can buy anywhere.
So all you need is a stamping machine

and somebody with the know -how to make
a matching pattern.

If it's that easy, why hasn't it been
done before?

It seems it has been at the other clubs.

No wonder they're mad. Oh, the
photograph you took of the woman at the

table. Have you identified her through
it yet?

Photograph? What photograph?

I thought you took a picture of her and
also found a paper wrapper for some of

her chips.

You find any wrappers when you followed
her?

No. All I found was that my skull wasn't
as tough as I thought it was.

Then you still don't know who or where
the woman is. No, and we couldn't care

less as long as she don't come back
here.

A minute the boss wants to see you

What do you have?

Whiskey rocks, too.

How come you're here, Mr. Warren?

Well, I'm trying to backtrack on murder.

I thought I was doing that.

You following up something she told you
and Barry?

No, we didn't get a chance to speak to
her at all. We got to the apartment. She

was gone.

What brought you to this particular
spot?

A neighbor friend of hers, Irene
Prentiss, the blonde at the roulette

said she was here last night, so I
thought this place would be a good place

pick up her trail.

Or at least find out who terrified her
and why.

Does Barry know you're doing this?

No.

I don't think so.

You know, walking barefoot into a cage
full of rattlesnakes is considerably

safer than nosing around an operation
like this.

I'm willing to take the chance. I
suppose I can talk you out of it.

How come you brought Miss Prentice
along?

Irene said murder ran out of here in a
state of panic after she spoke to some

man. And she's supposed to point this
man out to you?

Mr. Warren, do you realize you both can
end up in a ditch someplace?

Mr. Paul Drake.

Mr. Paul Drake. Yeah, over here.

Oh, Mr. Desmond, you can take it on the
telephone over here. Thank you.

Be right back.

Mr.

Paul Drake, you have a call for me?

How'd you find me? Through your office,
Paul.

Something's happened you should know
about.

Before you get in too deep where you
are.

Myrna Warren's been murdered.

Here in her apartment.

No, I don't know when.

Jacob Leonard, the investigator who
called on Peter Warren, was with me when

found the body.

Yes, Leonard's already notified
homicide.

And he agreed to let me call you so you
wouldn't be running blind into what

might be a hornet's nest.

Well, I'm not the only one running into
a hornet's nest.

Peter Warren's here.

No, he doesn't. He's trying to find her.

Paul, send him back in the first plane.

When the police discover he talked to
her this morning and was possibly the

person to see her alive, they're going
to want him.

Here, not in Nevada.

Fine.

Funny thing, isn't it, Mr. Mason?

When I took Warren down to the DA's
office, he said he hadn't seen his wife.

Oh, uh, the fellow who was with me here,
did you see where he went? No, sir, I

didn't, but I'm sure he'll be back. He
hasn't finished his tea.

Peter, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it.

They told me if I didn't go out there
and bring you back in... It's all right.

was coming in here anyway. Irene,
there's a couple of questions I want to

Mr. Searle. Oh, yeah, and his friend
here. His friend's name is Ned Beaumont.

Ask away. Now, wait a minute.

There's a couple of pertinent questions
I'd like to ask first.

These zip wrappers, Mr. Warren, are they
from your company?

Yes, they're my company's wrappers.
Where'd you get them?

How do you like that, Ned?

Not only does he take us for ten grand,
but he's got the gall to come back here

the next night and ask us where we got
the wrappers for him.

What makes you so sure that I'm
responsible for those wrappers?

Oh, nothing. Just that your company's
name happens to be on them. The dame

passing the phony chips, your wife? Why
wouldn't I be sure?

How'd you know she was my wife?

He tell you?

Yes, he told me. So what?

Well, that brings us to the jackpot
question, Mr. Ciro.

Did he tell you who she was before or
after he killed her?

Peter?

Vern is dead?

You shut up.

What about what he's saying, Ed?

Who is it?

Paul Drake.

What do you want?

I'd like to speak to Mr. Warren.

Warren?

Just a second.

I guess the man made a mistake.

I guess he did. Why don't you try the
casino?

It makes me nervous.

You're not going to shoot us.

Whatever gave you that idea? The rod is
just to buy a little time, that's all.

Well, Mr. Warren, did you say your wife
was killed? Yes.

Tell us about it. What did Beaumont tell
you about it? Never mind Beaumont. I'll

get around to him later. First you.

Now, what's the story?

She was killed this morning in Los
Angeles in the bedroom of her apartment.

skull had been crushed by a blow from
behind.

You mean she was lying there dead all
the time we were talking?

Shut up, you.

And you found her then, right?

Yes, I found her about three minutes
after I saw him leaving the apartment.

Well, Ned?

Yeah, he saw me, all right, but I wasn't
coming out of the apartment. I never

got inside.

Nobody answered the doorbell.

How come you were ringing it in the
first place?

You said I was to check on the company
where the rappers came from.

And when I did, I found that Warren had
a wife answering the description of the

brunette passing the chips.

So I thought I'd have a little talk with
her.

Talk?

You were pretty mad at her last night,
as I recall. What were you going to do,

pay her back for almost killing you?
Don't you realize you could lose us our

license for getting mixed up in a
murder?

Maybe you'd like me mixed up. And what
does that mean?

When we split up at the L .A. airport
this morning, you said you were going to

your sister's place.

When I called in the afternoon to see if
you wanted to fly back with me, she

said she hadn't seen you.

You were pretty mad at that brunette,
too, Tony.

Could it be you got to her before I did?
Or you?

Range to the rescue.

Nobody here needs rescuing.

How'd you find out about that panel?

Mr. Bentley, who happens to be an
investigator for the Strait Gaming

knows about the button under your desk.

How do you like that?

I know something else, too, Cyril.

A few minutes ago, I got a long
-distance call from Jacob Leonard, who

be with the commission.

He's working with a Lieutenant Anderson
of L .A. Homicide on the death of Mrs.

Peter Warren.

Lieutenant Anderson, pending issuance of
a warrant for first -degree murder, has

asked us... to detain their suspect.

And who is that? Me or my associate?

Neither of you.

The warrant's being issued for Mr.
Warren here.

I know I should have told you about her
being in the bedroom, Perry, but, well,

I let her down so badly, accusing,
quarreling with her when I should have

helping her.

I felt I could make it up to her.

Crazy idea at the time, I'll admit, but
I knew you'd have to telephone the

police and then I wouldn't have a
chance.

Fresh scratches on my face and telling
Leonard that I hadn't seen her and lying

to the assistant district attorney.

They wouldn't have let me out of their
sight.

Trouble is, Peter, Hamilton Berger will
prosecute and has a different

explanation for your actions.

He believes you and Myrna were in the
counterfeiting plot together.

And that when she became so frightened
she was about to make a clean breast of

things, you killed her.

Well, how does he explain my coming to
Nevada to find her killer?

A smoke screen?

To make people believe you were
innocent.

Our immediate problem, however, is
whether to waive extradition or to find

All right, Perry, let's waive it.

Let's see if Mr. Berger can make his
explanation stand up in court.

In your opinion, Doctor, Mrs.

Warren died within seconds after being
struck.

Within microseconds, Mr. Berger. To all
intents and purposes, death was

instantaneous. Then there would have
been no time for an outcry. No, not

possibly. Now, as to the murder weapon,
which has so far not been discovered...

And, Doctor, from your examination of
the wound, were you able to reach any

conclusion as to what type of weapon
might have inflicted it? Well, a rod

laceration, some three inches in length,
above the central area of impact,

strongly suggests the weapon was a
revolver.

And the three -inch laceration would be
the imprint of the barrel?

Exactly.

Now, in addition to the latent
fingerprints left there by the

Did you find anything else in that
apartment, Lieutenant Anderson?

An open handbag, a linen handkerchief.

Yes, sir, that's it.

Would you describe this handkerchief to
the court, please? It's monogrammed PW,

and it's stained with human blood. When
you say human blood, Lieutenant, that

means that you're able to identify the
stains on this handkerchief because of

work done in the police laboratory?

Yes, we found it was type AB, the same
blood type as that of the defendant.

All right, now the blood -stained
handkerchief, the open pocketbook.

What else did you examine at the police
lab?

Well, later, the coroner's office
reported traces of blood and flesh

right -hand fingernails of the deceased,
and we typed that in the lab, too. What

was the result?

We found it to be type A and B, the same
blood type as that of the defendant.

I see.

Now, Lieutenant Anderson, let me ask you
this.

Did you notice anything at all unusual,
perhaps, about the appearance of the

defendant when he first arrived here
from Nevada?

On his left cheek, there were three
partially healed scratches.

The defendant denied to you that he knew
the woman shown in this photograph

playing roulette?

Yes, when I talked to him in his office.

Afterwards, he admitted he'd lied.

Oh? When was that?

About a half an hour or so later, when I
found him in his wife's apartment.

By then, of course, through her
neighbors, I'd identified her as Mrs.

Now, at that time, did Mr.

Warren give you any explanation for his
being at his wife's apartment?

Yes, he said he wanted to ask her about
the photograph.

And did he say that he had asked her
about it?

He said that she wasn't there.

Now, after he said that she wasn't
there, what did you do, Mr. Leonard?

I brought him down to the office of your
assistant, Mr. Cantwell.

But that wasn't the end of your
connection with this matter, was it, Mr.

Leonard?

You mean running into Mr. Mason that
night, ringing the apartment doorbell?

going in and finding the body?

Yes, and I also mean something that
happened after that.

You mean the next day?

Lieutenant Anderson and I went down to
Mr. Warren's plant.

I wanted to determine whether the
equipment that he was using was capable

counterfeiting gambling chips. I found
that it was.

And what else did you find at Mr.
Warren's plant?

Anderson had a search warrant. I went
through Warren's desk.

In one of the bottom drawers, under a
pile of papers, I discovered two paper

-wrapped stacks of gambling chips.

I see.

Are these the packages you're referring
to?

Yes. These ink dots are my identifying
marks.

I opened one of them. Inside were
gambling chips marked ST.

The ST, of course, standing for Sierra
Towel Club.

You'll have to ask somebody who knows
for sure, Mr. Berger.

I'm not asking you if this chip is
counterfeit or not, Mr. Beaumont.

I'm simply asking you if it resembles
the chips used at the Sierra Tahoe Club.

Well, does it?

I respectfully decline to answer on the
grounds that it might tend to

incriminate me.

Incriminate you?

How could answering that question
possibly incriminate you?

I respectfully decline to answer on the
grounds that might tend to incriminate

me. This is perfectly incredible.

Mr. Mason, be my guest.

I see no point in attempting to question
Mr. Beaumont in view of his present

attitude.

Mr. Bentley, you've told us of
photographing Myrna Warren at the

and finding an empty chip wrapper in her
rented car.

of buying chips from her in an effort to
determine if they were counterfeit.

But you have not told us what made you
single her out as a suspect.

Just her general behavior.

Why were you at the Sierra Tahoe Club
that night?

Did you know she was going to be there?

Don't tell me you're going to refuse to
answer on grounds of possible

incrimination.

No.

I was going to tell you I was sent there
by the Nevada Gaming Commission.

Why were you sent there?

You'll have to ask the commission that,
Mr. Mason.

Because you don't know or because you're
not telling?

You'll have to ask the commission that,
too, Mr. Mason.

You know, there's something very strange
at the Nevada end of this. Something

both Beaumont and Bentley are trying to
cover up.

You know, they have the whole weekend to
work on it, but where do we start?

Perry. Couldn't you subpoena somebody
from the Gaming Commission and make him

talk? Not without some difficulty, and
just possibly there's an easier way.

Do you think finding out what's strange
in Nevada will lead you to the real

killer? I know who the killer is, Paul.

You do?

Yes, but the difficulty is improving it.

Tell him, put in a call to the office of
the Nevada Gaming Commission.

How about my friend in Reno, Mr. Big?

Good idea, Paul.

You tell his name and number.

Mr. Mason?

Look, even though you are Mr. Big around
here, I don't have to sit still for

this. I got a right to see a lawyer at
least.

You're apt to meet an undertaker, Saro,
if you don't sit still.

And we have a lawyer.

Mr. Perry Mason here.

And what he asks, you answer.

Mr. Beaumont said you told him not to
answer any questions in court, Mr.

Now, why did you do that?

Was it because you were afraid he might
be forced under oath to reveal that you

were involved in a scheme to pass
counterfeit gambling chips?

You had a blab, huh?

Yeah, Tony.

I advise you to blab, too, while you
still have a chance.

Okay, I was involved.

Why?

Why were you involved?

Why? I'll tell you why.

A year ago when I opened my place, the
other clubs sent their pros around to

and break me.

They took me for 40 grand at the crap
table one night, almost 30 grand another

night, and a dozen or so smaller bites.

I was almost on the rocks.

Then I saw a chance to get myself clear
and pay the other owners back for what

they did to me.

Your chance being someone with
counterfeit chips?

Yes, which he said he made.

Some for my club, some for the other
club.

They were so perfect, I couldn't tell
them from the legitimate ones.

They said if I financed them for $10
,000, he'd pass the fakes and cut me in

the take 50 -50.

You made out all right, Tony.

Half of what the other clubs lost adds
up to close to $100 ,000.

That's a lot of malarkey.

They were just boosting their figures.

My half came to about $40 ,000.

Then your partner shortchanged you.

We audited their books and they lost
what they said they lost.

Mr. Serra, this partner, who is he?

Warren, the man you're defending.

That's not possible.

You'd never seen him nor he you until
two nights ago.

Are you sure this man who brought the
counterfeit gambling chips around wasn't

woman?

Whatever gave you that idea?

I did some checking on you, Mr. Serra.

For five years, you ran a gambling
casino in Haiti.

And during that period, you married and
later divorced a woman named Irene

Prentiss.

All right, I did hold back certain
things when I testified Friday, but,

just didn't think they'd help.

What were these things you held back,
Miss Prentiss?

Well, that I had once been married to
Mr. Serrell, and that I...

And that you went to him with a scheme
to pass counterfeit chips.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, that was Myrna Warren's idea.

She told me about it, so I introduced
her to Tony.

Mr. Saro, I mean.

And they took it from there. That's all
I know about it. Then your encounter

with Mrs. Warren the night she fled from
the Sierra Tahoe Club was purely

accidental.

Yes. And your going back to the club the
next day with Peter Warren was also

accidental?

Well, no, not exactly. I let him talk me
into going back so that I could see

what he was up to.

By then, of course, you knew Myrna
Warren was dead.

Oh, no.

No, if I'd known that, I would have
called the police.

Your investigation of the losses
suffered by the various clubs indicated

blonde woman was passing the chips?

Yes.

And you suspected a connection between
her and Tony Serra?

That's why I was watching his club.

That's why I was surprised when a
brunette apparently was passing the

there. That didn't fit you.

So you photographed her in an effort to
identify her?

Yes. And sent it and the Warren Nowell
Company chip wrapper I found in her car

to Mr. Berger's office.

Believing that Mr. Warren might be
making the counterfeit chips.

There were no counterfeit chips, Mr.
Mason.

You mean the ones that were being passed
were genuine?

Yes. Now, how could that have been?

It was some six months ago, a truck
carrying gambling equipment to a Reno

wholesaler overturned and burned on the
freeway just outside of Los Angeles.

The entire confinement, which included
boxes of gambling chips for many clubs,

was officially certified destroyed.

But you think some of those chips were
not destroyed?

That's right, Mr. Mason.

Maybe Tony Serro can tell you about
them.

No, I don't know where the chips came
from. But I can tell you this.

Irene was the one who came to me with
the scheme to pass them.

That would be Irene Prentiss.

Yes. She was the one who actually passed
them. When the heat came on and Bentley

started hanging around my place, she
came up with the idea of framing Mrs.

Warren. She gave her the chips to play
with and planted the wrappers in her

What was your part in this?

Well, just to catch Mrs. Warren, let her
get away, and then report it.

That way it looked like I'd been taken
like the others and the heat would be

off.

Yes, I gave her the chips.

I told her they were counterfeit, but
she didn't care. She was hooked on

gambling.

And if it had worked the way it had been
planned... Didn't it work the way it

had been planned?

Wasn't murder the culmination of that
plan?

The plan to prevent her from revealing
it was you who gave her the chips?

Oh, no.

No, I didn't kill her. I didn't.

Then who did, Miss Prentiss?

Who did kill her?

Well, I don't know.

I think you do.

Who brought the chips to you in the
first place?

Who sent you to Saro for financing?

Who suggested framing Myrna Warren?

It was Jacob Leonard, wasn't it?

This is crazy.

She's just shooting wild, trying to get
off the hook.

This is the report made to the Los
Angeles Department of Licenses and

a truck accident Mr. Bentley told us
about. It certifies the truck's

of gambling equipment was completely
destroyed by fire.

It bears your signature.

Let me show you something else.

Records of deposits in five savings and
loan associations in Orange and San

Diego counties.

Each for $10 ,000 and each in the name
of Jay Leonard.

And doubtless there are more.

Why couldn't you have left well enough
alone, Mr. Leonard?

Why couldn't you have left murder out of
it?

All right.

But I didn't kill Mrs. Warren.

How could I have?

She was alive when I talked to Mr.
Warren in her apartment.

He'll tell you that.

And then we went right down to the DA's
office.

And I was there the rest of the day.

How do you get around that, Mr. Mason?

By something you overlooked.

What was that?

The scratches on Peter Warren's face.
You had to pretend not to see them.

Because asking about them would have
made him admit his wife was in the

apartment, then you would have had to
question her.

Which was the very last thing in the
world you wanted to do, because Mrs.

was dead.

No, that's not true!

But it is.

Now, you reached the apartment first.

He warned her not to talk.

You watched while she did her best to
convince her husband nothing was wrong.

And then you killed her.

You went out through the bedroom window,
around to the front of the apartment

where you rang the doorbell.

You know, if it weren't for those
scratches, you might have gotten away

murder.

She would have told him everything.

Just as soon as I left, I couldn't have
that.

I just couldn't have that.

Not only is the Gaming Commission
grateful to you, Mr. Mason, for clearing

things up, but so is Tony Zarro.

That's the carte blanche invitation to
enjoy his club. No expense.

He's still being allowed to operate?

Oh, yeah. It's under supervision.

As soon as he pays back the other club
owner's losses.

Should take about two years. Then the
commissioner will decide what to do

his license.

It's a very practical solution.

We're very practical people.

Tell me something.

Those two stacks of wrapped gambling
chips that Leonard found in Mr. Warren's

desk, he planted them?

Planted by Leonard and found by Leonard
at the same time.

Where'd he get the wrappers from?

Oh, he was very shrewd.

He simply bought a number of the Warren
Company's regular poker chips and used

the wrappers.

Simple as that, huh?

Well, enjoy yourself.

How did he do that?

He's one of the world's expert gamblers,
Della.

That's why the Nevada Gaming Commission
employs him.

I understand there are two Australian
engineers who figured out a way to beat

this machine, but Bentley's got to be
way ahead of them. I wish somebody would

show me the trick.

I always get the lemon.