Original subtitles

This is the city.

Los Angeles, California.

Like a young child it's growing.

Always trying to flex its new muscles.

Bunker Hill in downtown Los Angeles was the site of many stately Victorian mansions.

They house the city's early society families.

Now, they're being torn down to make way for the Bunker Hill development,

a planned complex of modern skyscrapers and parks.

Up until 1956, buildings in the city were not permitted to exceed 13 stories.

New construction methods enabled earthquake prone

Los Angeles to reach for new heights.

Within the last 10 years, over a hundred high-rise structures

have been built, adding a new dimension to the city skyline.

The city and its people are a constant source of change.

In my job, I try to keep up.

I carry a badge.

The story you are about to see is true.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

It was Tuesday, July 22nd.

It was hot in Los Angeles.

We were working the day watch out of Frauds Division.

The boss is Captain Ron Frankel.

My partner is Bill Gannon.

My name is Friday.

David Williams, credit manager for the

Summer's Department Store chain had asked for a meeting.

The firm's auditing section had just completed

an examination of Mr. Williams' books.

The audit had revealed a merchandise shortage

of nearly $100,000.

Well, that's it, Joe, in black and white.

According to the auditors, I've failed to bill $100,000 worth of merchandise

that's gone out of our stores in the past six months.

Any theories, Mr. Williams? Any idea how it's been done?

Yes, somewhere along the line.

Records of credit card sales are being destroyed.

Now, when a customer charges something there's no way I can

bill him if I don't get the sales slip.

- You do the billing for all five stores, is that correct? - Right.

When a Summer's customer buys anything on

credit, we bill him out of charge sales office.

You came through it on the way in.

How many people work out there in charge sales?

66 including eight supervisors and I know what you are thinking.

- Was that so? - Every store suffered losses.

If someone's tearing up the sales records, they can't be in five places at once.

They're probably working for me, right out there.

- No, sir, not necessarily. - Oh? Why?

Well, you've got five stores.

A lot of people could be involved in this and it says right there in your folder,

the average loss has been $15,000 with a merchandise every month.

That would keep one person busy just logging it off.

I guess you're right especially if he had to

be at work every day covering up his tracks.

We'd like to see the personnel records on those 66 people in charge sales.

Fine. You can work here in my office.

All right, sir. Thank you.

Only there will be 67 sets of records.

Sir?

Mine will be right on top of the pile.

11:15 a.m.

Bill and I checked 67 sets of personnel records.

Williams and the majority of his clerks in the

charge sales office were long-time employees.

Five had been hired within the last year.

We sent routine wires to former employees of five persons in the charge sales office.

Awful little things, these credit cards.

- You're one of the supervisors, are you, sir? - That's right. Fred Wayman.

Mr. Wayman, we're police officers. This is Bill Gannon. My name is Friday.

Oh, we heard about the big flap up front. What's the matter?

Somebody counterfeiting credit cards?

- Why do you say that? - The rumor is all over the store.

- Have you ever worked in one of these places? - No, I can't say I have.

- You? - No, sir.

It's like punching a time clock and a jungle

drum, a hollow log. You know what I mean?

No, sir, not exactly.

Fun playing and it comes out thunder at the other.

Whisper a trade secret downstairs you got a sonic boom four stories above.

That's a department store.

- Well, then you know why we're here. - I know what the auditors think.

Someone's getting rid of sales slips before we

can post them to the customers' accounts, right?

Well, that's the theory.

Any idea how a person might go about that, Mr. Wayman?

All I can tell you is how the system works.

Here. This is a sales book we use for training purposes.

There's an original, a duplicate, and a tissue copy of each sales slip in the book.

Here's where the salesman imprints your credit card.

When you buy something the duplicate copy is yours.

The tissue stays in the salesman's book.

The original is treated just like cash.

At the end of the day, the store adds them up.

The next morning they're sent up here.

We post them to your account and send out the bill.

- No original, no bill. Is that what you are saying? - Right.

If the original sales slip is torn up, lost, whatever, we're in trouble.

What about the tissue copy, the one in the salesman's book.

Eventually, they'll get around to an audit, I suppose, but it will take time.

Well, now, if an item is big enough to require delivery,

wouldn't there be additional records?

In the delivery department, not here.

All we're interested in is that original sales slip and where to send the bill.

- All right, sir, do you mind if we look around? - Help yourself.

Well, thanks for the information.

I heard the story it was standing short about a hundred grand.

- That's a lot of loot. - Yes, sir, it is.

Where did you hear that?

Like I said, jungle drums.

Three supervisors in the charge sales office were men.

We talked to all three. They agreed on two things.

Their co-workers were honest and it would be no trick at all

to destroy incoming sales slips.

Excuse me, are you a supervisor?

The only woman supervisor.

I'm Helen Zimmerman.

Ms. Zimmerman, we're police officers.

This is Bill Gannon. My name is Friday.

Eight months ago, they promoted me from file clerk.

Is that so? Then maybe you can help us.

Is it possible for anyone in this department

to destroy an incoming sales slip?

Of course.

Anyone could tear up a sales slip.

Who'd be the wiser but for what reason? Why?

Does your company sell fur coats?

Of course, we do.

What's the most expensive one in the inventory?

About $10,000.

Well, now, if the guilty party had an accomplice or a dozen accomplices

using stolen or falsified credit cards, they

could all get rich in a hurry, don't you agree?

I'd never thought about it that way.

We checked the personnel records, Ms. Zimmerman.

Five of your girls have been hired within the past year.

Any particular reason for the turnover?

An excellent reason. The best I can think of.

- Oh, what's that? - Marriage, Sergeant.

People do it all the time.

Credit cards for the Summer's Department Stores were prepared

by a plastics firm in East Los Angeles that specialized in the trade.

The company's correspondence was stored on microfilm.

We talked to the general manager, Mr. Robert Weston.

We get hundreds of orders every month from that one account.

They want new credit cards, replacements for cards that have been lost or stolen.

- You name it. - Where do the orders originate?

We're authorized to accept only one signature.

- Whose? - The credit manager, Dave Williams.

Yeah, thanks a lot, Carol.

- Well, what's the good word, did you find the thief? - No, sir, not yet.

Well I've been on the phone with the auditors.

They said they worked on the tissue copies from the sales books.

They got a team out in the West L.A. store right now.

Called in a couple of big items, they might have something.

Like what, Mr. Williams?

Ten days ago, a woman using the credit card of an old

preferred account bought a fur stole, price $1,200 plus tax.

The name on the card was Henderson.

- Henderson? That would be one of Ms. Zimmerman's accounts, right? - Right.

Naturally, the salesman called in to verify the $1,200 item,

Helen checked, the account was good.

- Only one thing haywire. - What was that?

The sales slip hasn't shown up yet.

I pulled the Henderson file immediately.

There's a letter in here three weeks ago.

Henderson registered a change of address and

requested another credit card for his daughter.

He even gave us her description; blonde,

25 years old, five-feet-six. Take a look.

- Did you authorize the card? - I didn't.

Here's my correspondence for a month for

the people who manufacture our credit cards.

I checked every letter I signed.

There's no mention of this particular Henderson.

Who gets the cards when they come back from the manufacturer?

They go to the supervisors for mailing.

I think we better have a talk with Ms. Zimmerman.

- Not here you won't. - Oh, why not?

- She left 20 minutes ago. - Is that so?

Yeah, she said she wasn't feeling well.

3:15 p.m.

I called Helen Zimmerman's apartment in West Los Angeles.

The operator told me the phone had been disconnected.

- Any luck? - Negative.

We talked to Mr. Henderson. He hasn't moved.

He doesn't intend to and he hasn't got a daughter.

She died 20 years ago at the age of five.

3:40 p.m.

On the way to Helen Zimmerman's last known address,

we stopped at the Summer's Department Store in West L.A.

How can people think of furs on a day like this?

Listen, a woman can think of furs anytime, pal.

Yeah, the wife has been nagging me for years to get her a new one.

Is that so? What kind she got now?

- Squirrel. I gave it to her for a wedding present. - Squirrel?

Well, three of them, not just one, Joe. You know, chasing each other around her neck.

Each squirrel biting the other one's tail.

- Mm-hmm. - It's real pretty, Joe.

Bonjour. Bonjour, gentlemen.

I'm Henri, manager of the salon.

Yes, sir. We're police officers. We'd like to ask you a few questions.

Oh, yes, of course.

- It's about Ms. Henderson's stole, n'est-ce pas? - I beg your pardon?

Yes, sir. We'd like a description of her if you can give us one.

Of course. One moment. Sil' vous plais.

- What did he say? - He said he'd be right back.

The manager told us the woman who bought the stool was

in her mid-20s, blonde, well-dressed, about five-feet-six.

Her French was atrocious but she knew furs.

She spotted this one right away.

Beautiful garment. What is that, mink?

- Heather dyed squirrel. - Anything else about her, sir?

Oh, her attitude. I was repelled.

Do you mind explaining that?

I don't know if I can.

She was brassy.

That's it, she was brassy.

- Very coarse woman. - Is that right?

Oh, I can spot a brassy woman a mile away.

Well, thank you very much, sir.

Well, anytime, at your service. Just ask for Henri.

What is the price of this Heather dyed squirrel?

- $300. - Uh-huh.

Well, thank you very much, Henri.

Well, this is it. Nothing.

Two weeks ago, I was in El Centro visiting my sister.

Helen packed up and left just like that.

Did Ms. Zimmerman leave a forwarding address?

No. No word, no number.

Oh, I found an envelope under my front door with an extra month's rent.

Nothing else.

When you last saw her, did she seem worried or upset?

I was coming to that.

Yes, she seemed very upset. It was the night before I left town.

She came down and had coffee.

I asked her if something was wrong. She said no.

- How was the apartment furnished? - Oh, it was just lovely.

Helen had beautiful things. Very expensive.

How about friends? Anybody come to visit her?

Oh, indeed. Helen is attractive. She dated three, four times a week.

Never any trouble though.

Did you ever meet any of her friends?

One boy in particular. Real nice.

I thought for a while Helen and he might get married.

- He'd know where she is, I bet. - Do you have his name?

He was here just before Helen moved out. Funny thing though.

What is, ma'am?

Well, he had another girl with him.

The prettiest blonde I ever laid eyes on, a real knockout.

Maybe that's why Helen left, couldn't stand the competition.

- What was the blonde's name? - Oh, I saw her. I never met her.

But you met the man?

Nice as he can be. Good-looking too.

Works at the same store Helen does.

- Summer's Department Store? - Downtown.

His name is Fred Wayman.

5:30 p.m.

We returned to Summer's Department Store.

- Still hardheaded, huh? - Yeah, I've got to.

The wife's downstairs buying the store out.

- Did you find Helen Zimmerman? - No, sir. She moved two weeks ago.

Two weeks. Yeah, I remember that.

She took the day off, said her folks were flying in from back East.

- Is Fred Wayman around? - Why?

Well, he and the Zimmerman girl have been seeing each other.

Maybe he can tell us something.

Well, while you're at it, ask him about these.

- What do you got here? - A few more bombs from the auditors.

They had me check some more salesman's tissues from the store in West L.A.

I figured I better you fellas handle it.

Living room furniture, TV stereo combination, 16mm camera and projector.

- Look at the dates. - Third week in May.

- Two months ago. - Check the names.

- All of them start with M, N, O, or P. - Wayman's accounts.

- $4,000 worth of merchandise. - Is Wayman here?

He left at five o'clock.

Did you check his files for those bills?

As soon as the door slammed behind him.

- Wayman is a forger, has to be. - How is that, sir?

According to his records, every one of those accounts has

requested a new credit card within the last few months.

My correspondence with the credit card company doesn't list one of them.

How many of these items have been posted and billed?

- None of them. - Not a single item?

Not a single solitary item on that list.

5:45 p.m.

Wayman's personnel file listed his home address

as 1761 Pinto Street in East Los Angeles.

We suspected he might have moved.

I called his listed number.

- No answer? - Disconnected.

- How late's the store open at night? - Nine o'clock.

People up here used to go home at 5:00 though.

Once in a while we work a little overtime.

Can we look at those files now?

I'm almost afraid to.

- This is kind of interesting. - What do you got?

Proposed sales contract for $3,200 approved six days ago.

- Are those Wayman's initials? - F.W., right.

- Proposed contract for what? - Bedroom furniture.

Martinson, Pasadena, old preferred account.

Last purchase, eight months ago.

- Something else here too. - I see it.

Request for a new credit card.

- Moved into West L.A. - I think I'll pull this one.

- Why not give this Mr. Martinson a ring? - A couple of reasons.

First of all, a lot of people resent it especially the old preferred accounts.

They think we ought to know them by sight.

Henderson, the guy we talked to this morning was an exception.

The biggest reason though is that it shakes customer confidence in the store.

We asked him in about his credit card and he might get the idea we're confused.

Can I help you find something, Mr. Williams?

- Hi, Steve. What's keeping you so late? - I had a big day.

- I got about two weeks behind. - Houseman, isn't it?

Yes, sir. We talked briefly this morning.

- How well do you know Fred Wayman. - Pretty good. Why?

- Don't tell me you're going to jail him too. - What do you mean "too"?

A rumor is going around you got Helen Zimmerman locked up already.

Wayman wasn't kidding about that jungle drum.

- Pardon me? - Did you ever visit Wayman's home over on Pinto Street?

- Pinto Street? Where is that? - East L.A.

Wayman lives clear over on the other side of town.

Where over in the other side of town?

11470 Ocean Drive, West L.A.

- Are you sure? - I ought to be.

I drive him to work three mornings a week.

And when you don't, I do.

Hello, Helen.

I used to anyhow. Hello, Mr. Williams, gentlemen.

What's the matter, boss? Surprised?

Well, yes, as a matter of fact.

Not nearly as much as I am. I was halfway to Mexico.

- All right, Ms. Zimmerman. - I know. A friend of mine is a cop.

You're going to read me my rights.

- Yes, ma'am. - Go ahead.

If acting stupid's a crime, I ought to get 20 years.

6:15 p.m.

Helen Zimmerman waived her right to have an attorney present during questioning.

We talked to her in the credit manager's office.

Fred and I have been dating since the day he got her, six months ago.

You know me, old eager beaver.

No, ma'am, we wouldn't know.

That's true. Anyhow, in April we got engaged.

Fred asked me to keep it a secret.

It killed me but I didn't tell a soul.

- Two weeks ago, I gave him his ring back. - You want to tell us about it?

It all started a couple of months ago when Fred figured he owned me, body and soul.

He told me about the credit cards,

how he forged Mr. Williams' name on letters to the company that makes the cards.

He did the same thing back in Missouri, a store in St. Louis,

and when his boss got suspicious, Fred figured it was time to migrate.

- What did he ask you to do? - The same thing he was doing, only in my files.

He said it wouldn't look so hot if all the action was under M, N, O, and P.

How did he pick his accounts?

Preferred customers only especially if they didn't shop too often,

- less likely to be recognized. - All right. Then what?

Well, next he'd phony up a letter saying the customer wanted a new credit card,

the guy lost it or was moving or whatever.

Then came the letter to the credit card company.

You ought to see Fred do your signature, Mr. Williams.

I could hardly wait.

When one of your girls passed around the new cards to the supervisors for mailing,

Fred had put the phonies in his pocket.

That's where you goofed, boss.

The girls never bothered to check the new

cards against your real correspondence file.

The system's has just been changed.

Well, that's about all there is to it.

When Fred bought things or had somebody buy them,

he watched for the incoming sales slips and got rid of them.

Any questions?

- Yes, ma'am, we have a few. - I can anticipate a couple, okay.

Number one, I kept my mouth shut because I loved the guy.

I refused to help him but I couldn't turn him in.

I thought I could straighten him out.

Can you understand that, Sergeant?

Maybe. What happened two weeks ago?

Fred came to my apartment.

Your furnished apartment?

Everything I own I got from my parents.

They're loaded and I'm an only child.

All right. Go on, Ms. Zimmerman.

Fred walked in like he owned the joint.

He had a blonde on his arm, pretty enough to hate on sight.

Fred introduced me as his new assistant.

- What was the blonde's name? - Barbara Henderson. Temporarily, that is.

Fred said from then on we'd be working together, Blondie and me.

She'd do the shopping and I tear up the bills.

If I didn't go along, Fred would tear me up.

- I told him to get out. - Then what happened?

Fred got tough, like cute little fun and games delinquent.

He said if I called the cops or if I didn't

get rid of the right sales slips, he'd kill me.

- Was that why you moved? - That's right.

- Does Wayman know your new address? - No, sir.

First, I just planned to drop out of sight.

Then I got mad.

I decided to come back to work in spite of Fred.

I checked the Henderson file.

There was the letter in Fred's handwriting requesting a new

credit card for Henderson's daughter, blonde, 25 years old.

The letter said Henderson was moving to 11470 Ocean Drive.

- I got scared all over again. - What did you do?

I shook a lot.

Three days later, the sales slip came in for a $1,200 mink stole.

Fred could tell it just by looking at me.

He came over and he spoke to me for the first time since he left my apartment.

- What did he say to you? - He gave me a choice.

I could tear up the sales slip or make a reservation.

A reservation where?

The cemetery.

We drove Ms. Zimmerman home and instructed

her to remain available for further questioning.

7:30 p.m.

Apartment 107, 11470 Ocean Drive, we rang a bell.

There was no answer.

7:40 p.m.

We notified Captain Frankel that we were staking out the Wayman apartment house.

10:30 p.m.

Wayman, alias George Henderson, had still not returned to his apartment.

I wonder when they don't air condition in lobbies in these places.

- How's your stomach? - I can't feel it anymore.

It might be a good idea to start that diet you're always talking about.

- Worst thing you can do, Joe. - Dieting?

Why sure on an empty stomach.

11:45 p.m.

Still no sign of the suspect.

Have you ever wished you'd gone into some other line of work, Joe?

I guess we all have, haven't we?

Take now, for instance. At home, the kids are in bed.

The house is quiet.

My wife is just sitting like we are.

Yeah.

Years ago, when I sit like this didn't seem to bother me. Now, I hate them.

Well, you're older and smarter, pal.

Older maybe and not smarter.

Now the Fred Waymans are stealing from me.

Stealing what?

The most precious thing in the world, Joe, time.

Hey, what are you guys doing here?

- We want to talk to you, Wayman. - Why not? I got the wildest pad in town.

- Will that do? - That'll do.

- You waiting long? - Nope.

- Just put my gal on a plane for Vegas. - Is that so?

- I told you, didn't I? - Not bad, huh?

Yeah, nice place.

- All right, Wayman. - Fred.

Fred, you're under arrest for grand theft and forgery.

- Oh, you're putting me on? - I'm gonna advise you of your rights.

You have the right to remain silent.

If you gave up the right to remain silent,

anything you say can and will be used against in the court of law.

You have the right to speak with an attorney

and have the attorney present during questioning.

If you so desire and cannot afford one,

an attorney will be appointed for you without charge before questioning.

- Now, do you understand that? - I understand and forget the attorney.

I'm perfectly capable of representing myself. My father is a lawyer.

My grandfather is a lawyer and his father was a barrister in England.

But you're a clerk.

A well-read clerk, my friend, who hasn't got a thing to hide.

- Care for a drink? - No, thanks.

Well, since you haven't got anything to hide, you won't mind if we look around.

Well, not at all. What do you want to see first?

It's a nice looking TV stereo.

- Beauty, huh? - Paid for, I suppose.

That will be just as soon as they send me the bill.

Where did you buy it, at the West L.A. Store?

- Yeah, why? - Whose name did you charge it under?

Henderson. Any law against that?

Joe, pretty fancy looking bedroom.

Beautiful bedroom.

That partner of yours has got real good taste.

Barbara did it all herself. Real talent, huh?

Yeah. Nice furniture, isn't it?

This should be Martinson of Pasadena.

Check your statutes, Friday. A person can call himself anything they like.

But you and Barbara liked Martinson?

I didn't. Barbara did.

I see. You didn't sign for anything. Is that the idea?

Not for one stick of furniture in the joint, here or any place else.

There goes your case, right?

- How many other apartments have you furnished? - Three.

For three beautiful friends.

Tell us about Helen Zimmerman, Fred.

- What do you mean? - Tell us about her.

Helen is a psycho. She's a dummy. I'll prove it in court.

Why, Wayman?

Because she refused to live in your mink-lined gutter?

What about this locked suitcase?

You got no right to open that bag.

- Show me a search warrant. - Check your statutes, Wayman.

You are arrested inside your apartment.

A search is being made incidental to your arrest.

The key clasp Clarence Darell.

Hey, look, you guys. We're all gentlemen. We're all familiar with the law.

Now, there ought to be a way we can get together.

I've got a lot of loot. Do you dig?

$100,000 worth of merchandise.

I turned a lot of it for cash. Take some and leave some.

We'll pass.

Credit cards, Los Angeles, St. Louis, Missouri.

Winters there are lousy.

Sales slips, Pasadena, West L.A.

Yeah, I hung onto those. They're research.

- Research for what? - My book, in the back pocket.

It's almost ready for the publishers.

"Famous Swindlers at Large" by Frederick Wayman.

Yeah, a part of it is autobiographical.

What part is that?

Chapter 19, the last one in the book. That's me.

"If the criminal is clever and I imaginative enough, crime can pay.

He need never get caught."

Good line, huh?

- You got a publisher in mind? - Yeah, why?

- Well, you'd better send them a note. - What do I tell them?

He just lost Chapter 19.

The suspect was found guilty of forgery and grand theft.

Punishable by imprisonment in the State

Penitentiary for a period from one to 14 years.

The suspect was found guilty of forgery and grand theft.

The suspect appeared as a witness for the state

against all defendants in this case.