Original subtitles

This is the city, Los Angeles, California.

It's a modern city...

Some say the one of the future.

It's all electronic and computerized.

They've got computers here that can read and store

140,000 words in 2.5 microseconds,

others that can plot probability curves

for anything you care to predict in a man's life.

They can do the same for his death.

The machines can tell you that of the average 25,000 people

who will die in Los Angeles this year,

300 of them, or 82/100 of one percent

will die by an act of murder.

That's a small percentage,

but it's one I deal with. I carry a badge.

It was Monday, March 20th.

It was foggy in Los Angeles.

We were working the day watch out of Homicide.

The boss is Captain Hugh Brown.

My partner's Bill Gannon.

My name's Friday.

We had just checked back into the squad room

after running down a lead in an unsolved case.

It went nowhere.

The story you are about to see is true.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

You know, you're lucky, Joe.

You don't have to worry about your weight.

I don't, huh?

When did you start worrying about yours?

I didn't. My sister-in-law did.

The woman's become a health nut.

She got a hold of one of those charts

that tell you how much you should weigh

for how old you are and all.

Turns out I'm 4 1/2 pounds over.

Never can get these things open.

Well, it could be worse.

You wouldn't say that

if you had to eat yogurt every day for a solid week.

There's a candy bar in the drawer there.

Forget it.

My sister-in-law is staying with us this week,

while her husband's back East.

The minute I walk in that house tonight,

I step on a scale.

Boy, I can't wait till 3:00.

What happens at 3:00?

I get to have an apple.

- Joe, Bill. - Yes, sir?

I want you and Bill to take a ride out to Venice.

I just talked to Sergeant Porterfield, West L.A. Vice.

There's a friend of his out there,

might be he's got a 653f PC, soliciting for murder.

The guy's name is Steve Deal.

Here's the address.

He's got a record, but he's been clean four years now.

Porterfield thinks he's leveling.

What's that?

That's my lunch, Captain.

- You could lose a few pounds. - Yes, sir.

Try an apple later if you get hungry.

It'll help.

12:48 p.m. We drove out to Venice

to check the possible murder solicitation.

Solicitation to commit murder

is a violation of Section 653f

of the California Penal Code.

1:32 p.m. We arrived at Steven Deal's address.

It was a cheap couple of rooms over a pottery shop.

- What? - Police officers.

Oh, yeah, okay.

You the guys Porterfield sent?

- That's right. - Friday and Gannon, Homicide.

Oh, come on in.

Boy, this place is a real wreck.

I didn't expect you guys so soon.

I'll just straighten it up.

- Don't bother. - No bother!

Just take a minute.

There, that's better, huh? Yeah, it's fine.

Isn't that a gas? Some of Myra's work.

She runs the pottery shop downstairs.

That girl's a real talent.

What's it supposed to be?

Number 15.

Huh?

- Myra calls it Number 15. - Okay.

You want to tell us what this is about?

Yeah, postcard's right here.

"A thousand isn't enough.

"If you want to make a killing,

replace the ad and give a phone number."

- Weird, huh? - Maybe.

Might not be anything. I don't know.

How'd you happen to get this card, Steve?

Well, I was broke, see... I mean, dirty broke,

the original plenty of nothing.

Well, I, uh, guess you guys know I did time.

Yeah, we know.

Yeah, I did a year for grand theft auto.

I mean, I blew one once.

And, well, it happens, right?

It happens.

How'd you get this card?

The parole thing is over now.

I'm free. If I want to go, I can go anywhere,

and I had a kind of an offer for a job writing some stuff.

What do you write?

Poems, words for greeting cards.

I studied how to do it in the joint.

I got so sick of those cards people used to send me,

I figured I could do better.

The card?

Yeah, well, I needed bread, and I needed a chunk,

so I put this ad in The L.A. Happening.

Just said that I was willing to do anything,

repeat, anything for a thousand bucks.

The L.A. Happening, what's that?

One of those way-out hippy newspapers, you know,

comes out once a week, full of weird ads

and against everything, especially cops.

And this was the answer you got?

Yeah, just this morning.

What else did you get?

Well, I got two offers of marriage.

If you ever want to read some nutty letters...

And a guy wanted me to take over a franchise deal

on some kind of pickle thing,

and another guy wanted to take moving pictures of me.

Man, that letter was nothing but strange.

What was it about this card that made you call Porterfield?

I've been clean ever since I got out, Sergeant.

I want to stay that way.

I'm not about to get involved with a somebody

maybe wanting to make a hit.

I've gotta tell you,

it hasn't got much to do with me being a good citizen.

It's just got to do with me doing for me.

I've known Milt Porterfield since school.

He's always been straight with me, so I called him.

What did you want the money for?

About the only stuff I've sold was some Christmas material

to this little company in Denver.

They called me and told me,

if I could get set up there,

I could probably sell them some more.

I wanted to get there fast,

and I didn't want to go poor mouth.

Tell me, do you think this card could mean a hit?

Who knows? I got the thing.

And anyway, there was no return address on it, no nothing.

Like I say, it seemed weird,

and I thought I'd better let you guys worry about it.

All right. We'll take this card along with us

- and think about it. - We'll get back to you.

Okay. Oh, but, Sergeant, the thing just says,

"if I want to make a killing."

That could mean like the stock market or something.

It could.

Sure.

But you usually say that to a man

who's already got a thousand, don't you?

Huh.

We returned to PAB

and gave Deal's postcard to Captain Brown.

It was 3:05 p.m.

All right, maybe we've got a 653, and maybe we don't.

Mailed yesterday from Beverly Hills and no return.

It could be anything.

- Yes, sir. - This deal,

he make any kind of walk-around money pitch for this?

Never mentioned money.

- And he's broke? - Yes, sir, he is.

All right, call Porterfield.

We'll see what he thinks, and let us play out the string.

Have Deal place the other ad, and you stand by his phone.

If he's that broke, is the bill paid?

Well, we'll see that it is.

Do that.

Joe, if we can make an arrest here,

I want it a clean one.

If the guy does tumble for the second ad and calls,

and we do have a solicitation to commit murder,

I want you to make awful sure

that you don't solicit him yourself.

You'll just have to sell him that you're Steve Deal

and make him come to you.

Yes, sir, I know that.

How far do you want me to go?

All the way.

If somebody wants somebody else knocked off right away,

he doesn't worry about the rulebook, and we have to.

And if we spook him,

there's nothing to prevent him soliciting somebody else.

Yes, sir.

Or, maybe doing the job himself.

Tuesday, March 21st, 11:15 a.m.

Deal had placed the second ad in The Happening.

It would run Friday morning.

We had the photo lab

make up a driver's license in Deal's name,

only with my picture and signature.

The same was done for all forms of ID

that Deal would normally carry.

Friday, March 24th, 9:05 a.m.

The Happening would be on the stands any minute.

We took up a watch on Steve Deal's telephone.

Hello.

Yes, that's right.

I placed the ad, same as last week.

Oh?

Did you get a letter from a girl named Beverly?

Yes, yes, I did. I got it.

Well, no.

No, that wouldn't work out.

No, I wouldn't be interested.

Yes, I am married.

No, no, I wouldn't be interested, lady.

Yes, ma'am.

What's the matter, Joe? You're not married,

and a thousand bucks is a thousand bucks.

Well, you are married.

Suppose somebody offered you a thousand bucks

to get a divorce. Would you take it?

Joe, that's a terrible question

to ask any married man.

I guess the paper's out now.

Yeah, I guess.

What's gonna happen when this guy calls?

If I can sell him that I'm you, and I need money,

he'll probably arrange to meet me someplace.

What if he doesn't buy it?

Then we're out of luck.

Somebody could get killed.

Maybe.

Say you do sell him you're me,

then you meet him, and as soon as he asks you to kill somebody,

you bust him, right?

Wrong. His just asking me isn't enough.

It's just his word against mine, and it's not admissible.

He's gotta give me some piece of hard evidence,

so I can prove that he asked me.

And you've gotta con him into it.

- Can't do that, either. - Huh?

In the law, they call that entrapment.

The guy's gotta solicit Joe.

If Joe solicits him,

his attorney will say that Joe trapped him.

They'll throw it right out of court.

So you just play it by ear.

Nope, by the book.

Hello.

Yeah, yeah, that was me.

You the one that sent the card?

Well, I hope you're not putting me on, Mister.

That extra ad cost me two bucks.

Yeah, sure, I want it back.

I don't have two bucks lying around all the time.

Well, what difference does it make what I need the money for?

I need it.

Well, why should I tell you that?

Okay, okay.

My name's Steve Deal, and I write words for greeting cards.

Mister, if you'd read anything I'd written,

I wouldn't need the thousand bucks.

Yeah, that's what I said in the ad, anything.

Look, I'm not asking any questions.

It doesn't matter what you want done for the money... anything.

Yeah, all right, I'll meet ya.

I've got a Ford wagon, a '60.

All right, yeah, I know where that is.

Okay.

- All right. - What?

No, the license number on the wagon is JUO664.

664.

All right.

9:00.

I'll be there.

9:00 tonight,

exactly 2 and 6/10 miles up Beverly Glen from Sunset.

I'm supposed to park the wagon there,

sit in it and wait for 20 minutes.

Then I'm to drive on to Mulholland, turn left,

and go 7/10 of a mile.

There's a dirt shoulder there off to the right.

I pull over and park.

- Not bad. - Not bad?

It means the guy can check on you

and make sure nobody's following. That's smart.

No, that's not smart. That's just kind of cute.

- How do you mean? - If he was smart,

he wouldn't need anybody killed in the first place.

It was decided that Steve Deal

would visit a friend of his at Redondo Beach.

He agreed to let us use his apartment

until the case was concluded.

8:59 p.m. I followed the instructions

and drove Deal's station wagon up Beverly Glen

to a point 2 and 6/10 miles above Sunset.

I parked and waited.

9:20 p.m. I started the wagon

and moved out for the spot off Mulholland.

Two undercover police cars were on a rolling stakeout in the area,

and Bill had the meeting place under surveillance.

9:37 p.m. I'd been waiting over 12 minutes.

Steve Deal?

That's right.

You follow instructions pretty good.

I need money pretty good.

This thing of putting an ad in the paper like you did,

- you do that often? - It was just an idea.

You said you were willing to do anything for $1,000.

What's your definition of anything?

Why do you need the money?

My definition of anything

is just what the word says... Anything.

Why I need the money is my business.

I'm not asking you any questions.

You got some identification?

Yeah.

Here.

Maybe we can talk some business.

Then let's talk it.

Now, you said there was more than a thousand in it.

If I decide you're the man for the job, there is.

I'd want you to steal something for me.

Well, I didn't figure it was going to be legal.

Something that belongs to my wife, a locket.

A locket. What's it worth?

About 200.

- Grand? - Dollars.

You're going to pay me a thousand bucks or more

just to steal a locket worth 200?

That's right.

Except I wouldn't want any witnesses.

- You wouldn't? - No.

If there were any witnesses, we couldn't do any business.

You always talk in circles, fella?

Why don't you tell me what you really want?

I told you. I want a locket taken.

Yeah.

Since I wouldn't want any witnesses,

and since she wears it constantly,

she'd have to be killed.

Well, you finally said the words, didn't ya?

Now, what happens?

Now, we've got something to talk about.

You want somebody killed, it'll cost you 5.

- 2. - 4.

- 3. - 3.

My wife is an unusual woman.

She's a predictable alcoholic.

She was brought up to believe that no decent person drinks

before 5:00 in the afternoon.

She doesn't, but by 6:00, she's loaded,

every night of her life.

I don't want her dead

so much for the fact that she's drunk after 5:00

as I do that she's sober before it.

That's my problem.

When you hit her, I'd like it to hurt.

But there's no sense taking that chance.

All right, how are you going to work it?

I want you to walk into the house

and hit my wife over the head

with a length of galvanized iron pipe.

Hit her as many times as you like.

Just make sure you hit her hard and that the job is done.

She'll be passed out on the couch in the study.

She always is.

She won't hear you come in. I can make sure of that

with a little pure alcohol in her scotch.

You're gonna give me a key to the place?

You won't need a key.

I'll leave the front door open for you.

You walk in, get it done,

then go to the desk in the study.

There'll be a thousand in cash

taped under the middle drawer.

You take that and the locket from my wife's neck,

and you meet me back up here at a time I'll give you later,

and you get your other 2,000.

Look, I've gotta case the place.

At least give me the address.

It's going to take me until Sunday to set my alibi.

If I decide to use you, I'll give you the address then.

All right, if you decide, we've got a contract.

No, we've got an understanding.

Yeah?

I'll let you know on Sunday if we've got a contract.

10:13 p.m. The suspect got into his car and drove off.

He had given me nothing to build a case with.

- What happened? - Not enough.

- Did you get a name? - No.

I called the license number in to DMV.

There's no warrant on it,

nothing back from Records yet.

I'll give you odds it's not his car.

No bet.

Do you think he's leveling?

He wants his wife dead, Bill.

Now, he's either gonna have me do it,

or he's gonna get somebody else to do it.

Yeah?

Or he might even do it himself.

Saturday, March 25th, 8:07 a.m.

The undercover police cars on rolling stakeout

had tailed the suspect down to Sunset,

but they had lost him

when he had abandoned the car in Hollywood.

Riley Maxwell of latent prints had gone over the car.

It was clean.

DMV Records in Sacramento had run it down

as belonging to a Mrs. Dorothy Caley

at an address on Tularosa.

Yes, ma'am.

Well, thank you.

Now, you be sure and lock your car after this, will you?

Thanks again.

Mrs. Caley had her bridge club in last night.

She didn't even know the thing had been stolen.

Didn't lock it when she parked it last night, huh?

- No, she didn't. - Keys on the sun visor.

Glove compartment.

Why didn't she put a sign on it?

How about some coffee, Joe? Be glad to get you a cup.

No, thanks.

Relax. Don't let it get to you.

Someplace out in this city,

there's a man making up his mind

whether or not to use me to murder his wife,

and I don't like it.

There's nothing we can do about it until he calls again.

I don't know.

Maybe I just should've pulled him in last night.

You'd have blown the case.

Yeah, but maybe it might've scared him off.

Sunday, March 26th, 8:00 a.m.

Bill and I took up a telephone watch in Steve Deal's apartment.

There had been no way to get a make on the suspect.

The only thing we could do now was wait for him to call.

10:27 p.m. 14 hours went by.

The telephone had not rung.

One thing I've gotta do.

Yeah, what's that?

If that's called Number 15, sometime I've gotta go

and find out what Number 16 looks like.

Yeah.

You know, if this character does call,

he's gonna try and have some cute setup

where we can't follow him.

The only chance we've got to nail him

is for you to go all the way with him.

That could add up to anything.

Well, we don't have much choice, do we?

No, we don't.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yes, I still want that 3,000.

Well, when?

Where?

Yeah, anything you say.

Says I should go out and just start driving.

Where to?

Said I'd find out.

Think we ought to try a loose tail on you?

He might be trying that himself.

10:48 p.m. Deal's station wagon

was parked in front of the apartment.

I didn't know where or how

the suspect would try and make contact.

Page 281 of the Western Directory phone book

had been torn out and left on the front seat of the car.

The address of Jason Lum, 10788 Bellagio Road, Bel Air,

had been circled.

11:17 p.m., I arrived at 10788 Bellagio.

Again, you follow instructions very well.

I still need the dough.

Is this it?

No, this was just a checkout.

Go back to your place and wait. I'll call you.

- You'll call me? - When?

You'll know, the minute the phone rings.

11:25 p.m. I return to Deal's apartment.

- Another false alarm? - Yeah.

Well, we've got two undercover units in the area now.

They've got your wagon staked out.

Anybody goes near it, they'll tail him.

Okay.

You think he'll try the same thing again?

It's a big phone book.

1:22 a.m. Monday, March 27th.

The suspect had called again.

Another page of the phone book

had been dropped in the station wagon.

This time, the address was in West Los Angeles.

It was another false alarm.

2:15 a.m.

I return to Deal's apartment for the second time.

Right, thanks.

We got him, Joe. The tail made him this time.

Name's Forrester, Harvey L., 10671 Chalon Road, Bel Air.

- Anything on him? - No, he's clean.

Well, what have we got then?

A name and an address.

Yeah.

All we need now is a case to go with it.

3:10 a.m. The suspect, whom we now knew to be Harvey Forrester,

called again, and I was given an address in Englewood.

This time, I knew it was the wrong address.

Monday, March 27th. There was no word at all from Forrester

during the daylight hours.

10:12 p.m. Forrester called.

This time, I was given instructions.

I was told to go to the address

I'd find in the station wagon

and wait for 15 minutes.

If I didn't hear from him,

I was to enter the house and get the job done.

Then I was to met him at the place off Mulholland

and receive the rest of the money.

The address he circled was his own.

Harvey Forrester, 10671 Chalon Road, Bel Air.

I called Bill on the walkie-talkie and filled him in.

I drove out to Bel Air.

I was two blocks from Forrester's address on Chalon Road.

It was 10:32 p.m.

- Joe, you'd better hold it up. - What's going on?

Forrester isn't out trying to establish an alibi.

He's inside that house right now.

You can figure the rest.

I kill the wife, he kills me.

- Looks that way, doesn't it? - Yeah.

The only trouble is it doesn't change anything.

We still don't have anything admissible against him.

Well, Joe, maybe the woman's already dead.

What's to stop him from trying to kill you

the minute you open the door?

He's afraid to kill his wife.

If he wasn't, she'd have been dead before this.

No, I think he has to have somebody else do the job for him.

Who are you trying to convince?

Me or you?

10:37 p.m. I drove the remaining two blocks

to the Forrester house,

parked, and waited for 15 minutes.

There was no sign of the suspect.

10:52 p.m. I left the wagon and started for the house.

By now, Bill and the other three officers working the stakeout

would have had enough time to get into position.

Bill and I had agreed that they would give me

three minutes inside to smoke Forrester out

before moving in to back me up.

10:54 p.m. I entered the house.

I knew Forrester had to be somewhere close.

I couldn't see him.

- She dead? - What are you doing here?

You were supposed to be out getting yourself an alibi.

True. But instead, I'm about to shoot a burglar

with $1,000 of my money in his pocket.

I don't need an alibi.

Sorry, Deal. Your mistake.

No, Forrester, you made the mistake.

I'm a police officer, and there are four more right outside.

Now, you be a good boy,

and you walk over there and put that gun on that desk.

You've got nothing on me, nothing at all.

Don't we?

Here's the thousand, under the drawer like he said.

I'll get a photog out here, Joe.

- Drunk? - Yeah.

I'll call an ambulance.

Right.

How'd you find me, anyway? How did you know who I was?

You fell in love with the phone book.

The second time you tried that page bit,

you were followed.

Lousy, sloppy drunk!

Don't knock her, Forrester.

She had a good reason to drink.

And what's that?

Being married to you.

The suspect was found guilty

of soliciting the commission of a murder,

an offense which is punishable by imprisonment in the county jail,

not longer than one year,

or in the state prison, not longer than five years,

or by a fine of not more than $5,000.