Original subtitles

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Good morning. May I help you?

I'd like to see Mr. Ingram, please.

Mr. Thompson of Northwest Floor Coverings

to see you, Mr. Ingram.

Okay.

You can go right on in.

Hello, Norman.

Good morning.

You know my partner, Mr. Wayborn.

Of course. Nice to see you again.

Sit down, Norman.

You owe me $50,000.

For what? You blew it.

Just a moment, Mark.

Let's hear what Norman has to say about it.

There's nothing to say.

I made the hit, Albert Coleman is dead,

I expect to be paid.

- What did you do with the body? - I don't dispose of bodies.

I killed him and left.

Norman...

I think you missed him.

I never miss.

It's true. You never have before.

Now, Coleman's a cautious man.

Maybe he's taken to wearing a bulletproof vest.

It wouldn't have helped him; it was a head shot.

I saw him fall.

Oh, you saw him fall. You'd do the same thing

if somebody took a shot at you and missed, if you were smart.

Then you'd play dead until you thought it was safe

to get up and run away, which is exactly what Coleman did.

I didn't miss.

Check the hospitals, the morgue.

Of course, Norman. We'll do that.

Maybe the police are trying to keep it quiet.

Are you kidding?

Nothing would make the police happier

than to produce the corpse of the West Coast Syndicate boss.

None of us is safe if Albert Coleman is still alive.

And I'm sure he is.

He's dead.

We don't owe you a cent till we're sure.

Now, you get us proof the job's done, and that means a body!

Yeah. Well...

- Good morning. - Good morning.

May I help you?

I-I-I'd like to see, uh, Mr. Mannix, please.

May I tell him what it's about, Mister...?

Uh, Thompson. Nor-Norman Thompson.

I-I'd rather tell him myself, if-if you don't mind.

All right, Mr. Thompson.

No way! Come on, three a side.

Right.

Okay, I'll see you at, uh...

3:00. Hey, and Paul...

bring money.

Joe, there's a Mr. Thompson to see you.

What's he selling? Floor coverings?!

I don't think he's selling anything.

He looks pretty worried.

Show him in.

Mr. Thompson?

Mr. Mannix.

Mr. Thompson.

Uh, th-thank you for seeing me, Mr. Mannix.

- Please, sit down. - Oh, uh, thank you.

I, uh...

I don't quite know, uh, wh-where to begin. I...

Well, now, just take your time.

What seems to be bothering you?

Well, it-it's something that I saw night before last,

or at least I'm...

I'm pretty sure I saw it.

What's that?

A man shot.

Go on, Mr. Thompson.

Well, it-it was just after 2:00 in the morning

and I was on my way to my hotel,

the Markham... I-I always stay at the Markham when I'm in town...

And I heard what I-I-I thought at first was a-a backfire.

Only there were... there were no other cars on the street.

So-so then I realized the sound

must've come from one of the buildings...

Maybe a-a window or the roof.

I looked up; there was nothing.

And then I-I-I looked across the street.

And?

Well, outside one of the apartment buildings,

I saw that a man had fallen in the bushes,

and I realized what I had heard was a gun and the man was shot.

And I also knew from the way he was lying there that...

that he was dead.

"The way he was lying there"?

Well, I-I-I was in the army in Korea, Mr. Mannix.

You get to know when a man has been...

hit fatally.

What did you do?

Well, I'm-I'm afraid I panicked.

I went on to my hotel.

And, uh, uh...

what do you want me to do, Mr. Thompson?

To find out if I saw what I think I saw.

I've-I've heard nothing about it since.

Well, you know it would be much easier and a lot cheaper

if you called the police department.

Now, they would do it for nothing.

I suppose so. I mean, I-I know I should have...

have notified the police but I-I-I just...

I can't afford to get involved right now.

Why not?

Well, I-I was out that evening with a lady, a...

a married lady. I...

I was afraid that if I called the police

there'd be... questions.

Now, uh, you say you were across the street,

and you're pretty sure about all of this?

The shot and the man dead in the bushes?

Yes. The sound of the gunshot and the body.

The combination scared me.

All I could think of was getting out of there, because of my...

my-my, my-my friend.

- The lady. - Yes.

And you went straight to the Markham?

Yes, I've been watching the newspapers,

and there's been nothing. Nothing!

It's driving me crazy.

I-I see a man shot dead, and then...

nothing.

I'm-I'm even beginning to wonder if...

Wonder what?

Well, it's possible that I was mistaken,

and that-that he wasn't dead, he was just hurt,

and that he died because I failed

to notify somebody in time.

I mean, I-I've got to know, Mr. Mannix.

You understand, don't you?

C-C-Can you help me?

Well...

I'll do what I can, Mr. Thompson.

I-I-I can't ask you to spend a lot of time on this.

I-I'm not a rich man.

Well, let's not worry about that right now.

And so far, there isn't even a case.

No, there are no unsolved homicides Thursday night...

or Friday morning.

There are some assaults,

a few accidents,

but nothing in the neighborhood you're talking about,

not even a disturbing the peace.

- Mm. - Who you playing golf with?

Paul Richman. What about the fire department?

No rescue calls?

- Paul Richman is gonna kill you. - Are you kidding?

No, no fire department calls. There you are, Herman.

He's gonna give me three strokes a side.

Hey, uh, maybe my client saw a wino lying in a doorway, huh?

Richman could give you six strokes a side

and still beat you.

Would you like to put a little wager on that?

Malcolm.

Oh, yeah, good.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Okay, that'll do it. Thanks a lot.

Well, at least your client is who he says he is.

Norman Thompson, he's a sales representative

for Northwest Floor Covering,

with offices in San Francisco, Portland and Seattle.

Lives in a little town up near Santa Maria.

Yeah. Thanks a lot, Art.

You know, you didn't have to go through that much trouble.

Hey, if you don't want somebody checked out,

don't mention him to me.

You know how nosy I am.

Yeah, that I do.

Oh, uh, this guy Thompson, is he married?

No. Why?

You know how nosy I am.

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Yeah, I got it, Ed.

Any idea when it was fired?

Okay.

All right, thanks a lot.

A rifle bullet, right?

.243, he thinks.

That's a pretty good-sized slug for that small a caliber.

Well, they make 'em up to 100 grain for coyote or woodchucks,

things like that.

- A varmint rifle? - Could be.

Anyway, it was fired within the last week,

but not longer than that. It wasn't oxidized enough.

What about the stain, was it blood?

Type O, human.

As opposed to, uh... varmint.

The lab say anything more about the rifle?

It's almost always used with a scope.

I guess because nobody gets that close to a coyote.

It's accurate up to 300 yards and powerful.

Up to 3,500 feet per second muzzle velocity.

That would explain why it went right through whoever it hit.

You know, it could've grazed somebody

who then got up and ran.

Art, my client says he saw a body,

a dead body.

And a Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Young in 310?

Yes, I've got it.

And that completes the tenants list?

Well, thank you very much, Mr. Wanamaker.

You've been very kind. Bye-bye.

What'd you get?

Oh... that apartment has a lot of respectable people.

Businessmen, doctors, lawyers,

a high-fashion model, architect,

all very high-income tax types.

Very interesting.

Thanks, Peg.

- Good evening. - Hello, Mr. Thompson.

Uh, Mr. Mannix, I-I, I got a message

- that you'd called the hotel. - Yes, I did.

I-I just happened to be in the neighborhood,

so I thought I'd drop by.

Well, I'm glad you did. Come in, Mr. Thompson.

Oh, thank you.

I think I may be on to something.

Oh? Uh, w-w-was I right?

Did th-the police find the body?

No, no, as a matter of fact, they say

that there have been no reports of shootings or homicides

in that neighborhood in the past few months.

Oh, well, that's bad news, isn't it?

But y-you said you were on to something else.

Yes, well, what I wanted to tell you is that I found a slug,

flattened near where you told me the body was.

- A slug? - Yeah, that's a spent bullet.

The police lab say they also found human blood on it.

Oh?

A-Anything else?

Well, they were able to identify the type of weapon.

It's a gun commonly called a varmint rifle.

There should be more on it tomorrow.

Oh, you mean on-on the rifle?

Well, M-Mr. Mannix, I-I-I don't think that makes any difference.

- What I really want to know... - I understand, Mr. Thompson.

What you really want to know is

if anyone was hurt or killed, right?

Yes, that's right.

Well, as soon as I find out anything, I'll be in touch.

Oh, well, all right, uh...

- thank you very much. - Good night.

G-Good-bye.

Third floor: Walter Overland, novelist.

Huh, I've read a couple of his books.

Dr. and Mrs. Woodmere.

Ms. Hope Gordon, fashion model.

And not a bullet wound among them.

Yeah. Good night, Peg. See you in the morning.

Good night, Joe.

Second floor...

- Joe? - Yeah?

There is one thing.

What's that?

Hope Gordon, the fashion model.

What about her?

Well, she'd have to be very successful

to afford that kind of high rent, wouldn't she?

And if she were that successful, you would have heard of her.

- That's right. - But you haven't.

That's right. Let me put it this way:

I read every fashion magazine published at the beauty parlor,

and I've never read the name Hope Gordon.

I like the way your little old mind works, Peggy.

It pays to be suspicious, Joe.

Yeah, I'll check out our Miss Hope Gordon.

Good night!

Good night.

Malcolm.

Oh, hello, Joe.

Who?

You wouldn't mean Angel Gordon, would you?

What do you know about her?

If the lady's who I think she is, stay away, Joe.

Why?

Because this angel flies with Albert Coleman.

The Syndicate Coleman?

You got it.

He's had a "no trespassing" sign on her door ever since

he took over the number-one spot in the Syndicate.

Art, she lives in the building where the shooting took place.

It could add up.

What adds up?

That somebody tried to gun down Al Coleman

in front of a building where his girlfriend lives?

It doesn't add up.

Where's the body? Where's the evidence?

What am I going to bury, a ghost?

Maybe I can dig up some evidence for you.

How? With a Ouija board?

With an angel.

- Mr. Mannix? - Yes.

Wait until I unlock this vault.

Burglaries?

It's a maximum security building.

Ah. I can see why.

Thanks. Come on in.

Now, let's get to the commercial.

You said you had something important

to tell me about Al Coleman?

When was the last time you saw him?

Let me get something straight

before I drive in the wrong lane.

You're not fuzz?

Not fuzz.

You're in the private sector of the detective business,

- is that right? - That's right.

Okay.

Now, what would someone in your line of work want

with information about Al Coleman?

He's a little out of your league, isn't he?

Well, I've played in some

pretty good-sized ballparks, Miss Gordon.

Well, for a shamus, you don't dress too badly.

Huh. Thank you.

All right, what would you like to know?

I have a client who says he saw a man shot two nights ago.

- Shot?! - Outside this apartment.

And he thought it was Al Coleman?

No, he doesn't know who it was. Uh, he heard a shot.

He saw a man who had fallen in the bushes.

He's convinced he was dead.

What about the police?

- Well, he didn't call them. - Why?

Well, the, uh... the lady he kissed good night

didn't happen to be his wife.

And how did you get to me?

I checked all the tenants in the building,

on the off chance that one of 'em might be in,

shall we say, a dangerous profession.

And you came up with fashion modeling?

No, no, I came up with a friend of a fashion model.

Oh. And being a detective, you deduced...

That is the right word, isn't it?

I'd say so, yes.

That Al left me, walked out into the moonlight

and collected a bullet.

Something like that.

Being a good detective, Mr. Mannix,

I'm sure you noticed my luggage.

Oh, that's very nice.

I'm going to Las Vegas.

To meet Al Coleman.

That's his coat, as a matter of fact.

I saw him at noon today when he left,

and I talked to him on the phone an hour ago.

- And he's all right? - Fine.

If there was a bullet hole in him, it didn't show.

Well, there goes a pretty good deduction.

I'm sorry to have bothered you, Miss Gordon.

Oh, by the way, I, uh...

I also like your perfume.

- Do you? - Uh-huh, what's it called?

What do your clients pay you?

$200 a day plus expenses.

You don't really want to know the name of my perfume.

Hmm?

Good night, Mr. Mannix.

Good night, Miss Gordon.

How long are you gonna wait for Thompson to call us?

We should've heard from him by now.

Maybe I should call him at the Markham?

No! No, not through the switchboard.

He'll call us when he's got something to tell us...

He's got our home phone numbers.

That's another mistake we made.

Hello?

Yes, Angel.

What did he want?

I see. You did the right thing.

I'll tell Mark.

Enjoy yourself.

Give my regards to Al.

Angel saw Al Coleman?

She talked to him.

- When? - Today.

She's on her way up to Vegas to meet him.

She had a visitor.

Some guy named Mannix. A private eye.

What did he want?

He has a client.

The client says he saw some guy shot outside Angel's building.

Guess who the client is.

Thompson! He's gonna get us both killed!

First he blows the contract, then he hires a private eye!

I think he's gone off his rocker.

The whole thing's falling apart, Mark.

- Aw, take it easy. - Al has to know someone's

gunning for him. A contract gets around.

How long before he puts it together?

We haven't blown it yet.

I'll get ahold of Thompson.

He'll make the hit in Vegas.

Suppose Al knows him?

How could he know him? Thompson's clean.

If he wants his money, let him make the hit in Vegas.

- Mannix. - Mannix,

I understand you've been talking to a certain lady.

Who is this?

This is Al Coleman.

Now, look, Mannix, I'm gonna say this once:

You lay off Angel, you hear me?

- Yeah, I heard you. - You stay out of her life...

if you want to keep breathing.

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- Good morning. - Peg.

I see you made the coffee yourself.

What happened to Mrs. Olson?

Uh, she got another job.

Okay, well, was she pretty?

Mrs. Olson?

No, Miss Gordon.

Oh, yeah, well, she goes by the nickname of Angel

and flies to Las Vegas whenever Al Coleman tells her to.

From the L.A. Airport,

where I watched her take off last night.

Oh, it's your client.

We're in here, Mr. Thompson.

Good morning, Mr. Thompson.

- Would you like some coffee? - Uh, no, no, thank you.

Mr. Mannix, I hope I'm not disturbing you.

I-I wanted to see you as early as possible

because I have to go on the road this morning, and I, uh...

M-M-May we talk privately?

Oh, of course.

If you change your mind about some coffee, just let me know.

You, uh, you have a very nice secretary.

I think so.

Mr. Mannix, I-I-I've checked out.

I'm leaving in a few minutes. I'm driving up to San Francisco,

and i-if it's all right, I'll-I'll mail you your check?

- Oh, sure, that'd be fine. - And thank you very much

- for all your trouble. - Wait a minute, uh...

you mean you don't want me to keep looking for the...?

No, no, uh...

Uh, thanks very much for, uh...

for being so, uh... indulgent.

I, uh, I-I've given the whole matter

a great deal of thought, and...

I-I don't know whether I mentioned it,

but I had had a few drinks earlier that evening.

Quite a few, as a matter of fact.

And, well, Mr. Mannix, th-there's something else

th-that I have to admit.

What's that, Mr. Thompson?

Well, it's, uh...

i-it's happened to me before,

the same type of, uh,

hallucination, you might say.

Are you telling me you now think

you imagined seeing a body in the bushes?

I'm afraid it's... possible.

Mr. Thompson...

you ever thought of seeing a psychiatrist?

Oh, yes, of course. I-I-I've seen more than one.

I-I-I've been told that the problem is somehow related

- to my-my military experience. - I see.

I know it's, uh, my imagination,

but i-it's very real to me at the time.

And do you know, hiring someone like yourself

and paying to find out that it was a hallucination,

I mean, well, it... i-it always seems to help me.

The doctor explained that, too.

Part of the therapy?

Exactly. I-I-I'm really very grateful.

Well...

I'm glad I could be of help, Mr. Thompson. Have a nice trip.

I-I'm sorry I wasted your time.

Good-bye, Mr. Mannix.

Good-bye.

- I'll be in touch, Peg. - Where are you going?

After our client. I think we've been had.

I'm gonna tail Mr. Thompson,

and see what's really playing on his phonograph.

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Well, Joe, there you are, a .243 varmint rifle with scope.

I'd say your client was a hit man.

But he missed Al Coleman.

He evidently didn't think he missed.

He hired you to find the body, remember?

The question is, who hired him?

Whoever did is in a lot of trouble with Al Coleman.

You didn't get a good look at the guy on the bike, huh?

No, no, just the license number.

Did Motor Vehicles have anything on it?

The bike is registered to John Webber, a small-time hood.

We're checking him out.

Now, if I'd stayed closer to Thompson,

I might have stopped that.

Oh, delayed it, maybe, that's about all.

Gotten yourself killed in the process.

- Yeah. It's getting chilly. - Yeah, a little.

- Hi, Peg. - Hi.

I've got messages for both of you.

That's for you.

And your friend Charlie Hill called from Las Vegas.

He had no trouble whatsoever in locating Angel Gordon.

- What about Al Coleman? - She wasn't with him.

Her escort's name was Mark Wayborn,

and they took a flight for L.A. a couple of hours ago.

Mark Wayborn... now, where do I know that name from?

Ingram and Wayborn, import-export business.

You know, Art... Hey, you want some coffee?

- No, thanks. - Neither do I.

They could all be connected in this thing:

Angel Gordon; Coleman; Thompson, the hit man.

Sure, they could be. That import-export business

is probably a laundry for Coleman's money, but we've

- never been able to prove it. - And what've you got?

Well, the medical examiner's report is in.

Thompson was killed with a plain old .32 slug.

Peggy, what else did Charlie Hill say

about Angel and Mark Wayborn?

They were very friendly.

Hmm, how friendly?

Drinks together in the lounge, you know, that sort of thing.

Little Angel's gonna get her wings clipped

if Coleman finds out.

Question is...

Where's Coleman?

Hello?

Ingram?

Who is this?

I just thought you'd like to know,

your hit man is cold meat.

Who is this calling?

Norman Thompson was his name.

Why don't you call the morgue?

Listen, I don't know what you're talking about.

- You must have dialed the... - Ingram!

You're next.

You and then that partner of yours.

Who is this?!

Well, this is a friend... of a friend.

Charley, that teletype arrive from Washington?

Yes, it's on your desk.

- Charley. - Joe.

Norman Thompson, corporal, two years Korean combat,

Bronze Star, Purple Heart.

Try and reach Judge Berg for me, will you?

And if you can't do it, try Judge Carpenter. And fast.

Unit Presidential Citation. Specialty: sniper.

Commanding officer: Robert W. Ingram, U.S. Army Reserve.

Well, he was a sniper right to the end.

And maybe working for the same commanding officer, Ingram.

If Ingram put out that contract on Coleman;

he could be in trouble.

Coleman's probably got it figured out.

And started paying everybody back,

beginning with your client, Norman Thompson.

Well, now, I think we ought

to pay Captain Ingram a visit, don't you?

Not without a warrant.

He's got all kinds of lawyers.

Yeah, well, this is the year for 'em, all right.

This will only take a couple of minutes.

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- Oh, hi, Art. What'd you find? - Well, the slugs match.

It's the gun that killed Ingram and your client Norman Thompson.

Well, whoever dumped that gun in the garbage can in the garage

was either in a hurry or wanted you to find it.

Could be.

Oh, I got a call from Mark Wayborn.

Wayborn?

Yeah, he's afraid he's gonna be the next target.

I'm on my way over to see him now.

- Well, mind if I tag along? - No, it's all right.

Malcolm.

Are you sure?

Good enough.

Well, we got a registration on the gun.

Al Coleman?

Yeah, I'm putting out an APB on him now.

That won't do any good, Art.

Why not?

The rap won't stick. Coleman will prove that

he was a thousand miles from either one of those killings

and that somebody stole his gun at least two years ago.

Now, why don't we go see Mark Wayborn?

All right.

Charley, put out an APB on Coleman, will you?

I'll get on it right away.

Wasting your time, Charley.

You're certain that it was Coleman's voice?

And the first call, I think you said

- you got it around 2:00 a.m.? - Yeah.

- That was Coleman, too? - I'm sure of it.

Where'd you get the calls, at home?

No, uh, I was at a friend's apartment.

Why should Al Coleman want to kill you?

Somebody tried to assassinate him.

And he thinks you hired the hit man?

Lieutenant, I had nothing to do with it, I swear!

Who did?

Well, somebody set it up.

Why should Al Coleman think it was you?

I don't know.

But you know who did put out the contract?

Yeah.

My partner Bob Ingram.

- Your dead partner. - That's right.

- Coleman killed him, and now I'm scared. - Why?

Because he thinks I'm trying to make time with Angel Gordon.

Lieutenant, Coleman is crazy.

If you even talk to that girl, his muscle moves in.

Now, I need protection!

Well, I've got an APB out on Coleman.

That's about all I can do right now.

There isn't any hard evidence that your life is in danger.

You mean, I haven't been shot at yet.

Mr. Wayborn, this is a big city.

Maybe you should think about getting some private protection,

at least until Coleman's in custody.

He's guilty as hell, Art.

- Of what? - Putting out the contract on Coleman.

He's in it with his partner right up to his ears.

But he had a better reason.

You mean Miss Gordon?

- Beautiful lady. - Yeah.

Sweet, innocent, naive... Just my type.

Well, he was scared, Joe.

Oh, I'd be, too, Art, if I'd put a contract out on Coleman

and my man had missed.

Well, I got to get back to the office.

I sure wish it'd make up its mind.

Yeah, see you, Joe.

- Thanks for lunch! - Yeah.

Eh, beautiful day for banana fish, ain't it, Mr. Mannix?

Willie, what are you doing on the pier?

You know this fresh air could kill you.

Well, I kind of got my hook out.

You interested?

In what?

Guy named Webber? Rides a bike?

I hear you and the cops are looking.

I'm definitely interested, Willie.

For about a hundred?

Oh, well, now the price of fish have gone up, huh?

- It's that Arab oil, Mr. Mannix. - Oh, I see.

Okay, Willie, a hundred.

Well, I'm at the marina, see?

And there's this boat,

and a guy on a bike rides up... Webber...

And he gets on the boat.

Now, did you, uh, happen to notice

the name of the boat, too, Willie?

What am I, an amateur?

I lost my head.

The Tiki. That's her moniker.

I'll do it.

Okay.

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The perfume man.

Open up, Angel.

Go away. It's late.

Not that late.

You look like you just got out of bed.

- Not quite. - Would you like a drink?

Yeah, scotch, thanks.

How's your client? The kooky one.

Dead.

Really? How sad.

And I found Al Coleman, too.

- In Nevada? - No, in a freezer.

Also dead, like my client.

Is that a detective joke?

No, his body's in the county morgue.

I think I'll join you.

Aren't you upset about AI's death?

Upset?

What an old-fashioned word.

Coleman was in love with you.

That's an old-fashioned word, too, isn't it?

Oh, you're good, Angel.

Yeah, really good, there's no doubt about that.

Would've worked, too, except for one thing.

Somebody got a little too anxious.

Joe... It is Joe, isn't it?

It's Joe.

Joe, what are you talking about?

What could I possibly have had to do

with the death of your client, let alone Al Coleman?

Oh, and Bob Ingram, sweetie.

Don't forget Ingram. Three counts of murder.

That's what the police are gonna charge you with.

You're insane.

Oh, come on, Angel, the game's over.

Tell me what happened.

Did the gilded cage get a little too small,

or weren't the diamonds enough?

What did Mark Wayborn promise you to help set up Al Coleman?

Marriage?

Yes.

Marriage...

Now, that's an old-fashioned word, too, isn't it?

Joe, listen, I didn't plan it.

Not any of it.

You have to believe me.

Believe you, why?

Marriage, yes.

And the security, I wanted that.

But it was Mark and Ingram who hired Thompson.

Maybe so.

But when Coleman was killed, your boyfriend had Webber

standing by to take away the body and put it on ice.

Coleman would be blamed for all of the murders,

then one day his body would wash ashore...

defrosted.

But I had nothing to do with it!

Do I look like a killer?

Yeah, well, you didn't actually pull the trigger, Angel,

but you did know what was going on.

You lied to me.

I was frightened.

Mark is a dangerous man.

I'll tell you anything you want to know.

Oh, that's nice. That's real cozy.

Booze and all.

What's she been telling you?

Nothing that Webber, your gunsel, hasn't already spilled.

Mark, shoot him. We can still get away together.

I was only stalling him until you got here.

Sure you were, Angel. Mm-hmm.

You were stalling him just long enough

to sell me down the river.

Just like you sold Al Coleman.

Mark!

First you, baby, then the shamus.

Police! Open the door!

Want to open the door, Angel?

The lieutenant has a bad temper.

Open up!

They're all yours, Art. Two beauties.

Get him out of here.

You never did tell me the name of that perfume, Angel.

You still can't afford it.

Yeah, maybe you're right.