All language subtitles for Rear.Window.1954.GER.Bluray.english

Men, are you over 40?

When you wake up in the morning,
do you feel tired and rundown?

Do you have that
listless feeling?

Jefferies.

Congratulations, Jeff.

For what?

For getting rid of that cast.

Who said I was
getting rid of it?

This is Wednesday.

Seven weeks from the day you
broke your leg. Yes or no?

Gunnison, how did you ever get to be such
a big editor with such a small memory?

Thrift, industry and hard work.

And catching the publisher
with his secretary.

Did I get the wrong day?

No.

No, wrong week.

Next Wednesday I emerge
from this plaster cocoon.

That's too bad, Jeff.

Well, I guess I can't
be lucky every day.

Forget I called.

Yeah, I sure feel sorry
for you, Gunnison.

Must be rough on you thinking of me
wearing this cast for another whole week.

That one week is gonna cost
me my best photographer

and you a big assignment.

Where?

There's no point in
even talking about it.

Oh, come on,
come on. Where?

Kashmir.

Got a code tip from the
bureau chief this morning.

The place is about
to go up in smoke.

What did I tell you? Didn't I tell
you that's the next place to watch?

You did.

Okay. When do I leave?
Half-hour? Hour?

With that cast
on? You don't.

Stop sounding stuffy.

I can take pictures from a jeep
or a water buffalo, if necessary.

You're too valuable to the magazine
for us to play around with.

I'll send Morgan or Lambert.

Morgan or Lambert.
That's fine.

I get myself
half-killed for you,

and you reward me by
stealing my assignments.

I didn't ask you to stand in the
middle of that automobile racetrack.

You asked for something
dramatically different. You got it.

So did you.
Goodbye, Jeff.

Now wait a minute, Gunnison.
You've got to get me out of here.

Six weeks sitting in
a two-room apartment

with nothing to do but look out
the window at the neighbors.

Bye, Jeff.

No, Gunnison, I...

If you don't pull me out
of this swamp of boredom,

I'm gonna do something drastic.

Like what?

"Like what?"
I'm gonna get married.

And then I'll never
be able to go anywhere.

It's about time
you got married,

before you turn into a
lonesome and bitter old man.

Yeah, can't you just see me?

Rushing home to a hot apartment

to listen to the automatic laundry
and the electric dishwasher

and the garbage disposal
and the nagging wife.

Jeff, wives don't nag
anymore, they discuss.

Is that so?
Is that so?

Well, maybe in the high-rent
district they discuss.

In my neighborhood,
they still nag.

Yeah? Well, you know best.
I'll call you later, Jeff.

Yeah, have some good
news the next time, huh?

Good morning. I said,
"Good morning!"

Oh, good morning.

Say, I wouldn't dig
so deep if I were you.

You're giving them
far too much water.

Why don't you shut up?

Well!

I do declare.

New York State sentence for a Peeping
Tom is six months in the workhouse.

Oh, hello, Stella.

And they got no windows
in the workhouse.

You know, in the old days, they used to
put your eyes out with a red-hot poker.

Any of those bikini bombshells you're
always watching worth a red-hot poker?

Oh, dear. We've become
a race of Peeping Toms.

What people ought to do is get outside
their own house and look in for a change.

Yes, sir.

How's that for a bit
of homespun philosophy?

Reader's Digest,
April, 1939.

- Well, I only quote from the best.
- Yeah.

You don't have to take my
temperature this morning.

Quiet. See if you
can break 100.

You know, I should have
been a gypsy fortune-teller

instead of an
insurance-company nurse.

I got a nose for trouble.
Can smell it ten miles away.

You heard of that market crash in '29?
I predicted that.

Just how did
you do that, Stella?

Oh, simple.

I was nursing a director
of General Motors.

"Kidney ailment," they said.
"Nerves," I said.

Then I asked myself, "What's General
Motors got to be nervous about?"

"Overproduction,"
I says. "Collapse."

When General Motors has to go to
the bathroom 10 times a day,

the whole country's
ready to let go.

You know, Stella, in economics,

a kidney ailment has no
relationship to the stock market.

None whatsoever.

Crashed, didn't it?

I can smell trouble right
here in this apartment.

First you smash your leg, then you
get to looking out the window,

see things you shouldn't see.
Trouble.

I can see you in court now,

surrounded by a bunch of lawyers
in double-breasted suits.

You're pleading. You say, "Judge, it
was only a little bit of innocent fun.

"I love my neighbors,
like a father."

And the judge says,
"Well, congratulations.

"You've just given birth
to three years in Dannemora."

Right now I'd welcome
trouble, you know.

You've got a
hormone deficiency.

How can you tell
from a thermometer?

Those bathing beauties
you've been watching

haven't raised your temperature
one degree in a month.

Here we go.

One more week.

No, I think you're right. I think there
is gonna be trouble around here.

I knew it.

Ooh!

Do you ever heat that stuff?

Gives your circulation
something to fight.

Oh, I see.

What kind of trouble?

Lisa Fremont.

You kidding?

She's a beautiful young girl, and
you're a reasonably healthy young man.

She expects me to marry her.

That's normal.

I don't want to.

That's abnormal.

I just... I'm not
ready for marriage.

Every man's ready for marriage
when the right girl comes along.

And Lisa Fremont is the right girl
for any man with half a brain

who can get one eye open.

She's all right.

- What'd you do, have a fight?
- No.

Father loading up the shotgun?

What?

Please, Stella.

It's happened before, you know.

Some of the world's
happiest marriages

have started "under the
gun," as you might say.

No, she's just not
the girl for me.

Yeah, she's only perfect.

She's too perfect.
She's too talented.

She's too beautiful.
She's too sophisticated.

She's too everything
but what I want.

Is what you want something
you can discuss?

What? It's very
simple, Stella.

She belongs to that rarefied
atmosphere of Park Avenue, you know.

Expensive restaurants and
literary cocktail parties.

People with sense belong
wherever they're put.

Can you imagine her traveling
around the world with a camera bum

who never has more than a
week's salary in the bank?

If she was only ordinary.

You never gonna get married?

I'll probably get married
one of these days,

but when I do, it's gonna be
to someone who thinks of life

not just as a new dress
and a lobster dinner

or latest scandal.

I need a woman who's
willing to... Hold it.

Who's willing to go anywhere
and do anything and love it.

So the honest thing for me to do
is just call the whole thing off.

Let her find somebody else.

Yeah, I can hear you now.

"Get out of my life, you
perfectly wonderful woman.

"You're too
good for me."

Look, Mr. Jefferies, I'm
not an educated woman,

but I can tell you one thing.

When a man and a woman see each
other and like each other,

they ought to come together, wham,
like a couple of taxis on Broadway,

and not sit around analyzing each
other like two specimens in a bottle.

There's an intelligent way
to approach marriage.

Intelligence.

Nothing has caused the human race
so much trouble as intelligence.

Modern marriage.

No, we've progressed
emotionally.

Baloney.

Once it was, "See somebody,
get excited, get married."

Now it's, "Read a lot of books, fence
with a lot of four-syllable words,

"psychoanalyze each other

"until you can't tell
the difference between

"a petting party and
a civil service exam."

People have different
emotional levels...

When I married Myles, we were both
a couple of maladjusted misfits.

We are still maladjusted misfits, and
we have loved every minute of it.

Well, that's fine, Stella.

Now, would you fix me
a sandwich, please?

Yes, I will.

And I'll spread a little
common sense on the bread.

Lisa's loaded to her
fingertips with love for you.

I got two words of advice for you.
Marry her.

She pay you much?

Oh!

There.

- Here's the key.
- Thank you.

Well, if you want
anything, just ring.

Honey.
Come on.

Got to carry you
over the threshold.

Window shopper.

How's your leg?

It hurts a little.

And your stomach?

Empty as a football.

And your love life?

Not too active.

Anything else bothering you?

Mmm-hmm.

Who are you?

Reading from top
to bottom, Lisa

Carol

Fremont.

Is this the Lisa Fremont who never
wears the same dress twice?

Only because it's
expected of her.

It's right off the Paris plane.
Do you think it'll sell?

That depends on the quote,
you know. Let's see now.

There's the airplane ticket over and import
duties, hidden taxes, profit markup...

A steal at $1,100.

Eleven hundred?

They ought to list that dress
on the stock exchange.

Why, we sell a dozen a
day in this price range.

Who buys them, tax collectors?

Even if I had to pay, it would be worth it.
Just for the occasion.

Why, is something big
going on somewhere?

It's going on right here.
It's a big night.

It's just an old run-of-the-mill Wednesday.
The calendar's full of them.

It's opening night of the last depressing
week of L. B. Jefferies in a cast.

Well, I haven't noticed a big
demand for tickets or anything.

That's because I
bought out the house.

You know, this cigarette
box has seen better days.

I picked that up in Shanghai,
which has also seen better days.

It's cracked and you never use it.
It's too ornate.

I'm sending up a plain, flat, silver
one with just your initials engraved.

That's no way to spend
your hard-earned money.

Well, I wanted to.

Oh!

What would you think of starting
off with dinner at '21 '?

You have, perhaps, an
ambulance downstairs?

No, better
than that. '21 .'

Thank you for waiting, Carl. The
kitchen's right there on the left.

Oh, I'll take the wine.

- Good evening, Mr. Jefferies.
- Carl.

Just put everything in
the oven, Carl, on low.

- Yes, madam.
- Let's open the wine now.

All right.

It's a Montrachet.

A great big glassful. There's
a corkscrew right over there.

Here, I'll do it.

Big enough?

Yeah, they're fine.

I can't think of anything more boring or
tiresome than what you've been through,

- and the last week must be the hardest.
- Let me, sir.

All right.

Yeah, I want to get this
thing off and get moving.

Well, I'm going to make this
a week you'll never forget.

Fine, thanks.

Just a minute, Carl.

This will take care
of the taxi as well.

Thank you, Miss Fremont.

Have a pleasant dinner,
Mr. Jefferies.

All right.
Good night.

Good night.

What a day I've had.

Are you tired?

Not a bit.

I was all morning
in a sales meeting,

then I had to dash to the Waldorf for
a quick drink with Madame Dufresne,

who's just over from Paris
with some spy reports.

And then I had to go to '21 ' and have
lunch with the Harper's Bazaar people.

And that's when
I ordered dinner.

Then I had two fall
showings 20 blocks apart.

Then I had to have a cocktail
with Leland and Slim Hayward.

We're trying to
get his new show.

And then I had to
dash back and change.

Well, now, tell me. Tell me. Now,
what was Mrs. Hayward wearing?

- Oh, she looked wonderfully cool.
- She did.

She had on the most
divine Italian hand-print

- mousseline de soie...
- Oh, Italian?

- Oh, you.
- Italian. Imagine.

To think I planted three nice items
in the columns about you today.

You did?

You can't buy that
kind of publicity.

I know.

Someday you may want to open
up a studio of your own here.

How would I run it
from, say, Pakistan?

Jeff...

Isn't it time you came home? You
could pick your assignment.

I wish there was one I wanted.

Make the one you want.

- You mean leave the magazine?
- Yes.

For what?

For yourself and me.

I could get you a dozen
assignments tomorrow.

Don't laugh.
I could do it.

That's what I'm afraid of.

Can you see me driving down to
the fashion salon in a jeep,

wearing combat boots
and a three-day beard?

Wouldn't that make a hit?

I could see you looking very handsome and
successful in a dark blue flannel suit.

Let's stop talking
nonsense, shall we?

Hmm?

Guess I'd better start
setting up for dinner.

To see you is to love you

And I see you everywhere

In the sunrise
In the moon glow

Any place I look you're there

To see you is to want you

And I see you all the time

On a sidewalk
In a doorway

On the lonely stairs I climb

Someday let me show you

How happy endings start

You'll find how well
I know you

'Cause to know you at all

ls to know you by heart

To see you is to love you

And you're never out of sight

And I love you
and I'll see you

In the same old dream

Tonight

Miss Lonelyheart.

At least that's something you'll
never have to worry about.

Oh?

You can see my apartment from here,
all the way up on 63rd Street?

No, not exactly, but we have
a little apartment here

that's probably about
as popular as yours.

You remember, of course, Miss
Torso, the ballet dancer?

She's like a queen bee with
her pick of the drones.

I'd say she's doing a woman's
hardest job. Juggling wolves.

Thank you.

Well, she picked the most
prosperous-looking one.

She's not in love with
him or any of them.

Oh, how can you
tell that from here?

You said it resembled
my apartment, didn't you?

I hope they're
cooked this time.

Where's that wonderful
music coming from?

Some songwriter over there
in the studio apartment.

Wow!

He lives alone. Probably
had a very unhappy marriage.

Oh, it's enchanting.

It's almost as if it were being
written especially for us.

Hmm.

No wonder he's having so
much trouble with it.

At least you can't say
the dinner isn't right.

Lisa, it's perfect.

As always.

There can't be that much difference
between people and the way they live.

We all eat, talk, drink,
laugh, wear clothes.

Well, now look...

If you're saying all this because you
don't want to tell me the truth,

because you're hiding something from
me, then maybe I can understand.

I'm not hiding anything.
It's just that...

It doesn't make sense.

What's so different about it here
from over there or anyplace you go

that one person couldn't live
in both places just as easily?

Some people can. Now, if
you'll just let me...

What is it but traveling from one
place to another, taking pictures?

It's just like being a tourist
on an endless vacation.

Okay. Now
that's your opinion.

You're entitled to it. Now,
let me give you my side.

It's ridiculous to say
that it can only be done

by a special, private little
group of anointed people.

I made a simple statement,
a true statement,

but I can back it up if you'd
just shut up for a minute.

If your opinion is as rude as your
manner, I don't think I care to hear it.

Oh, come on now.
Simmer down.

I can't fit in here.
You can't fit in there.

I mean, according to you, people should
be born, live and die on the same spot!

Shut up!

Did you ever eat
fish heads and rice?

Of course not.

Well, you might have
to if you went with me.

Did you ever try to keep warm in a C-54
at 15,000 feet, 20 degrees below zero?

Oh, I do it all the time. Whenever
I have a few minutes after lunch.

Did you ever get shot at?
Did you ever get run over?

Did you ever get
sandbagged at night

because somebody got unfavorable
publicity from your camera?

Did you ever... Those high heels,
they'll be great in the jungle.

And the nylons and
those six-ounce lingerie.

- Three.
- All right, three.

They'll make a big hit in Finland,
just before you freeze to death.

Well, if there's one thing I know,
it's how to wear the proper clothes.

Yeah, yeah.

Well, try and find a raincoat in
Brazil, even when it isn't raining.

Lisa, in this job
you carry one suitcase.

Your home is the available
transportation.

You don't sleep very
much. You bathe less.

And sometimes the
food that you eat

is made from things that you couldn't
even look at when they're alive.

Jeff, you don't have to be deliberately
repulsive just to impress me I'm wrong.

Deliberately repulsive? I'm just
trying to make it sound good.

You just have to face it, Lisa, you're
not meant for that kind of a life.

Few people are.

You're too stubborn
to argue with.

I'm not stubborn.
I'm just truthful.

I know, a lesser man would have
told me it was one long holiday,

and I would have been awakened
to a rude disillusionment.

Oh, well now, wait a minute.
Wait a minute.

If you want to get vicious on this thing,
I'd be very happy to accommodate you.

No, I don't
particularly want that.

So that's it?

You won't stay here,
and I can't go with you.

It would be the wrong thing.

You don't think either one
of us could ever change?

Right now it doesn't seem so.

I'm in love with you. I don't
care what you do for a living.

I'd just like to be
part of it somehow.

It's deflating to find out the
only way I can be part of it

is to take out a subscription
to your magazine.

I guess I'm not the
girl I thought I was.

There's nothing wrong
with you, Lisa.

You've got this town in
the palm of your hand.

Not quite, it seems.

Goodbye, Jeff.

You mean good night.

I mean what I said.

Well, Lisa, couldn't we just...

Uh...

Couldn't we just keep
things status quo?

Without any future?

When am I gonna see you again?

Not for a long time.

At least

not until tomorrow night.

Don't!

Hey! Rain.

Grab that. The rest of the blanket.
Wait, I'll get the clock.

Oh, no!

Put it in, now.

Pull on it.

Let me do it.

In you go.

No, you can't come in.
It's much too late.

No, no, not now. Get your foot out
of the way. No, I said good night.

What's that supposed
to be, ma'am?

It's called
"Hunger."

You'd think the rain would
have cooled things off.

All it did was
make the heat wet.

That's it.
That's it.

That's stiff one, right there.
Right there.

You know, the insurance
company would be much happier

if you'd sleep in bed at night
instead of in that wheelchair.

How'd you know?

Eyes are all bloodshot.

Must have been watching out
that window for hours.

Yeah, I was.

What are you gonna do if
one of them catches you?

It depends which one.

Miss Torso, for example...

You keep your mind off her.

She sure is the "Eat,
drink and be merry" girl.

Yeah, she'll wind up fat,
alcoholic and miserable.

Yeah.

Speaking of misery, poor Miss Lonelyheart.
She drank herself to sleep again, alone.

Poor soul.
Oh, well.

Maybe one day she'll
find her happiness.

Yeah, and some man
will lose his.

Isn't there anybody in the neighborhood
who could cast an eye in her direction?

I don't know.

It just might be that the
salesman will be available soon.

Oh, him and his wife
splitting up?

I just can't figure it.

He went out several times last night
in the rain, carrying his sample case.

Well, he's a
salesman, isn't he?

What would he be selling
at 3:00 in the morning?

Flashlights.

Luminous dials for watches.
House numbers that light up.

I don't think so.
I don't think so.

I think he was taking something
out of the apartment.

Uh-huh.

His personal effects.

He's gonna run out
on her, the coward.

Yeah.

Sometimes it's worse
to stay than it is to run.

Yeah, well, it takes a particularly low
type of man to do a thing like that.

How about this morning?
Any further developments?

The shades are all
drawn in the apartment.

- In this heat?
- Yeah.

Well, they're up now.

Get back!
Get back!

Where do you want me to go?

Come on, get out of sight.
Get out of sight.

What is it?
What's the matter?

That salesman's looking out
of his window. You see?

Get back!
He'll see you.

I'm not shy. I've been
looked at before.

That's no ordinary look.

That's the kind
of look a man gives

when he's afraid somebody
might be watching him.

Get away from there. Get away from there.
He'll be after you.

Go on, into the house.
Into the house.

Goodbye, Mr. Jefferies.
See you tomorrow.

Uh-huh.

And don't sleep in
that chair again.

Uh-huh.

"Uh-huh.
Uh-huh."

Great conversationalist.

Stella.

Take those binoculars out of the
case and bring them here, will you?

Trouble.
I can smell it.

I'll be glad when they crack that
cast, and I can get out of here.

Uh-huh.

How far does a girl have to
go before you'll notice her?

Well, if she's pretty enough, she
doesn't have to go anywhere.

She just has to "be."

Well, ain't I?

Pay attention to me.

I'm not exactly on the
other side of the room.

Your mind is...

And when I want a man,
I want all of him.

Don't you ever
have any problems?

I have one now.

So do I.

Tell me about it.

Why...

Why would a man leave his apartment three
times on a rainy night with a suitcase,

and come back three times?

He likes the way his
wife welcomes him home.

No, no. No, no.

No, no. Not this
salesman's wife.

And why didn't he
go to work today?

Homework. It's
more interesting.

What's interesting
about a butcher knife

and a small saw

wrapped in newspaper?
Hmm?

Nothing, thank heaven.

Why hasn't he been in his
wife's bedroom all day?

I wouldn't dare answer that.

Well, listen. I'll answer it, Lisa.
There's something terribly wrong.

And I'm afraid it's with me.

What do you think?

Something too
frightful to utter.

He went out a few minutes ago in his
undershirt, hasn't come back yet.

That'd be a terrible
job to tackle.

Just how would you start
to cut up a human body?

Jeff, I'll be honest with you. You're
beginning to scare me a little.

Jeff, did you hear what I said?
You're beginning to scare...

Shh! Shh!

He's coming back!

Jeff, if you could
only see yourself!

What's the matter?

Sitting around looking out of the
window to kill time is one thing,

but doing it the way you are,
with binoculars and wild opinions

about every little thing
you see, is diseased!

What, do you think I
consider it recreation?

I don't know what
you consider it,

but if you don't stop it,
I'm getting out of here.

What's the...

What is it you're looking for?

I just want to find out what's the matter
with the salesman's wife, that's all.

Does that make me
sound like a madman?

What makes you think there's
something the matter with her?

A lot of things. She's an invalid.
She demands constant care.

Yet neither the husband or anybody else
has been in to see her all day. Why?

Maybe she died.

Where's the doctor?
Where's the undertaker?

She could be sleeping,
under sedatives.

He's in there now.
There's nothing to see.

There is something... I've
seen it through that window.

I've seen bickering
and family quarrels

and mysterious trips at night
and knives and saws and ropes.

And now, since last evening,
not a sign of the wife.

All right. Now you
tell me where she is.

- I don't know.
- What's she doing? Where is she?

Maybe he's leaving his wife. I don't know.
I don't care!

Lots of people have knives and saws
and ropes around their houses.

And lots of men don't speak
to their wives all day.

Lots of wives nag and men
hate them and trouble starts,

but very, very few of them end up in
murder, if that's what you're thinking.

It's pretty hard for you to keep
away from that word, isn't it?

- You could see all that he did,
couldn't you? - Of course...

You could see because
the shades were up

and he walked along the corridor
and the street and the backyard.

I've seen him in the backyard,
fixing the flowers...

Oh, Jeff, do you think a murderer
would let you see all that?

That he wouldn't pull the shades
down and hide behind them?

Just where he's being clever.
He's being nonchalant about it.

And that's where you're
not being clever.

A murderer would never parade his
crime in front of an open window.

Why not?

Why, for all you know,

there's probably something a lot more
sinister going on behind those windows.

Where?

Oh!

No comment.

Let's start from the
beginning again, Jeff.

Tell me everything you saw

and what you think it means.

Yeah?

The name on the second floor

rear mail box reads,
"Mr. and Mrs. Lars."

That's L-A-R-S.

Lars Thorwald.

What's the number of
the apartment house?

125 West
9th Street.

Thank you, dear.

Okay, chief. What's
my next assignment?

Just go home.

All right, but
what's he doing now?

He's just sitting in the
living room in the dark.

Hasn't gone near the bedroom.

Now you go home
and get some sleep.

- Good night.
- Good night.

All right.
What's it all about, Jeff?

Now look, Doyle, it's just something
I can't tell you over the telephone.

You have to be here
and see the whole setup.

Important, huh?

Well, it's probably
nothing important at all.

It's just a little neighborhood
murder, that's all.

Did you say "murder," Jeff?

Yes, as a matter of fact,
I did say "murder."

Oh, come now.

My only thought was throwing a little
business your way, that's all.

I figured a good detective would jump
at the chance of something to detect.

- I'm not working.
- What?

This happens to be my day off.

Well, I usually took my best
pictures on my day off.

I'll drop by.

Okay, Doyle. All right.
As soon as you can.

Bless your heart, Stella.
Gee whiz, look at this.

I can't tell you what a
welcome sight this is.

No wonder your husband
still loves you.

- The police.
- What?

You called the police.

Well, not exactly.

Not an official call. It's
just an old friend of mine.

An old, ornery friend of mine.

Just where do you
suppose he cut her up?

Of course.
The bathtub.

That's the only place where he
could have washed away the blood.

He better get that trunk out of
there before it starts to leak.

Harry?

Look, look,
Mr. Jefferies.

I thought Doyle would be here
by the time the trunk left,

or I'd have called the police.
Now we're gonna lose it.

- Hold everything.
- Don't do anything foolish.

I'm just gonna get the name
off that freight truck.

I'll keep an eye on the alley.

Long distance.

You didn't see the killing or the body.
How do you know there was a murder?

Because everything this fellow's
done has been suspicious.

Trips at night in the rain, and
knives and saws and trunks with rope

and now this wife that
isn't there anymore.

I admit it all has a mysterious sound.
It could be any number of things.

Murder's the least plausible.

Doyle, don't tell me he's
an unemployed magician,

amusing the neighborhood with his
sleight of hand. Don't tell me that.

It's too obvious and stupid
a way to commit murder.

In full view of 50 windows?

Then sit over there
smoking a cigar,

waiting for the police
to come and pick him up?

All right, Officer, do your duty.
Go over and pick him up.

Jeff, you've got a lot
to learn about homicide.

Why, morons have committed
murder so shrewdly,

it's taken a hundred trained
police minds to catch them.

That salesman wouldn't just
knock his wife off after dinner

and toss her in the trunk
and put her in storage.

I'll bet it's been done.

Most everything's
been done, under panic.

This is a thousand-to-one shot.

He's still sitting around the apartment.
That man's not panicked.

You think I made all this up?

Well, I think
you saw something.

There's probably a very
simple explanation for that.

For instance?

Wife took a trip.

His wife was sick in bed.

Yeah, so you told me.

Well, Jeff, I've
got to run along.

I won't report this to the department.
Let me poke into it a little on my own.

No sense in your getting a
lot of ridiculous publicity.

Thank you.

We know the wife is gone, so I'll
see if I can find out where.

Do that.

You had any headaches lately?

Not until you showed up.

It'll wear off, along
with the hallucinations.

See you around.

Get along.

He has a six months' lease.

Used up a little more than
five and a half months of it.

He's quiet, drinks,
but not to drunkenness.

Pays his bills promptly with money
earned as a costume jewelry salesman.

Wholesale.

Kept to himself. None of his neighbors
got close to him or his wife.

Yeah, well, I think they
missed their chance with her.

She never left the apartment...

- Where is she? The icebox?
- ...until yesterday morning.

- What time?
- 6:00 a.m.

6:00 a.m.

I think that's about
the time I fell asleep.

Too bad.

Thorwalds were leaving their
apartment at just that time.

Feel a little foolish?

No, not yet.

How's your wife?

Oh, she's fine.

Who said they left then?

Who left where?

The Thorwalds,
at 6:00 in the morning.

Oh, the building superintendent
and two tenants.

Flat statements, no hesitation.
They jived with the letter.

Thorwalds were on their way
to the railroad station.

Well, now, Tom, how could
anybody possibly guess that?

What, did they have signs on their
luggage, saying, "Grand Central or bust?"

The superintendent met
Thorwald on his way back.

Thorwald told him that he'd put his
wife on a train to the country.

I see. I'd say this is a pretty
convenient guy, this superintendent.

Have you checked his
bank statements lately?

Huh?

Well, what good's
his information?

It's a secondhand version
of an unsupported story

by the murderer
himself, Thorwald.

Now did anybody actually see
the wife get on the train?

I hate to remind you,

but this all started because
you said she was murdered.

Now, did anyone, including you,
actually see her murdered?

What are you doing?

Are you interested in solving this
case or in making me look foolish?

Well, if possible, both.

Well, then, do a
good job of it.

Go over there and search
Thorwald's apartment.

It must be knee-deep
in evidence.

I can't do that.

Well, no, I don't mean right now,
but when he goes out for a drink,

or a paper, or something. What
he doesn't know won't hurt him.

I can't do that, even
if he isn't there.

What's he... Does he have a courtesy card
from the police department, or something?

Now don't get me mad.

Not even a detective can walk
into an apartment and search it.

If I were caught in there, they'd
have my badge within 10 minutes.

All right. Make sure you don't
get caught, that's all.

What? If you find something,
you've got a murderer,

and they don't care anything
about a couple of house rules.

If you don't find anything,
the fellow's clear.

At the risk of sounding stuffy, I'd
like to remind you of the Constitution

and the phrase, "Search
warrant issued by a judge

"who knows his Bill
of Rights verbatim."

He must ask for evidence.

Give him evidence.

Yeah, I can hear myself.

"Your Honor, I have a friend
who's an amateur sleuth.

"Well, the other night after
having a heavy dinner, he..."

He'd throw the New York State
penal code right in my face.

And there's six volumes.

You know, by tomorrow morning there
may not be any evidence left

over in that apartment.
You know that.

It's a detective's nightmare.

What do you need
before you can search?

Tell me. Now,
what do you need?

Bloody footsteps leading
up to the door?

One thing I don't need is heckling.
You called me and asked for help.

Now you're behaving
like a taxpayer.

How did we ever stand
each other in that plane

for three years during the war?

I guess I'll go over to the railroad
station and check on Thorwald's story.

Oh, forget about the story.

Find the trunk.
Mrs. Thorwald's in it.

Oh, I almost forgot.

There was a postcard in
Thorwald's mailbox. It was

mailed 3:30 yesterday
afternoon from Merritsville.

That's 80 miles north of here.

Message went, "Arrived okay.
Already feeling better.

"Love, Anna."

Oh...

Is that...

Anna... Is that
who I think it is?

Mrs. Thorwald.

Oh, so anything you need, Jeff?

You might send me
a good detective.

Many dreams ago

I dreamed many dreams

Waiting for my true love

To appear

Though each night it seems

Someone filled my dreams

Still the face

That I kissed wasn't clear

So I let my heart dance

To many sweet refrains

But now just one song

And just one dream remains

That one song is you

And at last I know

You're the one I dreamed of

Many dreams ago

- Hello?
- Hello, Miss Doyle?

Yes?

This is Jeff again.
Has Tom come in yet?

Not yet, Jeff.

You mean you haven't
even heard from him?

Not a word. Is it something
really important, Jeff?

Yeah, I'm afraid it is, Tess.

I'll have him call the
moment I hear from him.

No, no, don't
bother to do that.

Just have him get over
here as soon as he can.

Looks like Thorwald's
pulling out tonight.

Who's Thorwald?

He'll know, he'll know.

And Thorwald's a man,
Tess, don't worry.

- Good night, you idiot.
- Good night.

Long distance again.

There's somebody at the door.

- Hi.
- Hello.

Hello.

What'd you do to your hair?

- Oh, well, I just sort of...
- Take a look at Thorwald.

He's getting ready to pull out for good.
Look at him.

He doesn't seem
to be in any hurry.

He's been laying out all his
things on one of the beds.

Shirts, suits, coats, socks.

Even his wife's...
That alligator handbag

- his wife had on the bedpost.
- What about it?

He had it hidden in the dresser.
At least, it was there.

He took it out, went to the telephone
and made a long-distance call.

He had his wife's
jewelry in the handbag.

Seemed worried about it.

Asked somebody's advice
over the telephone.

Someone not his wife.

Well, I never saw
him ask her for advice.

She volunteered plenty, but I
never saw him ask her for any.

I wonder where he's going.

I don't know.

Suppose he doesn't
come back again?

He'll be back. His
things are still there.

Well, I guess it's safe
to put on some lights now.

No, not yet!

Okay, you can turn it on now. He must
have gone someplace to the right.

All day long, I've been trying
to keep my mind on my work.

Thinking about Thorwald?

And you and your friend, Doyle.

Did you hear from him
again, since he left?

Not a word.

He said he was gonna check the
railroad station and the trunk.

He must be still at it.

Something on your mind?

It doesn't make sense to me.

What doesn't?

Women aren't that
unpredictable.

Mmm.

Well, I can't guess
what you're thinking.

A woman has a favorite handbag

and it always hangs on her bedpost,
where she can get at it easily.

And then, all of a sudden, she goes away
on a trip and leaves it behind. Why?

Because she didn't know
she was going on a trip.

And where she's going, she
wouldn't need the handbag.

Yes, but only her husband
would know that.

And that jewelry.

Women don't keep their
jewelry in a purse

getting all twisted and
scratched and tangled up.

Well, do they hide it in
their husband's clothes?

They do not.

And they don't leave
it behind, either.

Why, a woman going
anywhere but the hospital

would always take makeup,
perfume and jewelry.

Put that over there.
That's inside stuff, huh?

It's basic equipment.

And you don't leave it behind
in your husband's drawer

in your favorite handbag.

Well, I'm with you,
sweetie. I'm with you.

Tom Doyle has a pat
answer for that, though.

That Mrs. Thorwald
left at 6:00 a.m.

yesterday with her husband?

According to those witnesses.

Well, I have a pat
rebuttal for Mr. Doyle.

That couldn't have been
Mrs. Thorwald, or I don't know women.

What about the witnesses?

We'll agree they saw a woman,

but she was not
Mrs. Thorwald.

That is, not yet.

Is that so?

Come here.

I'd like to see your friend's
face when we tell him.

He doesn't sound like
much of a detective.

Oh, don't be too hard on him.
He's a steady worker.

I sure wish he'd show up.

Don't rush him.
We have all night.

- We have all what?
- Night.

I'm going to stay with you.

Well, you'll have to clear
that with my landlord.

I have the whole weekend off.

That's very nice, but
I just have one bed.

If you say anything else, I'll
stay tomorrow night, too.

I won't be able to
give you any pajamas.

You said I'll have to
live out of one suitcase.

I'll bet yours
isn't this small.

This is a suitcase?

Well, a Mark Cross
overnight case, anyway.

Compact, but ample enough.

Looks like you
packed in a hurry.

Look at this.
Isn't that amazing?

I'll trade you...

My feminine intuition
for a bed for the night.

I'll go along with that.

There's that song again.

Where does a man get inspiration
to write a song like that?

Well, he gets it from the
landlady once a month.

It's utterly beautiful.

I wish I could be creative.

Oh, sweetie, you are.

You have a great talent for
creating difficult situations.

- I do?
- Sure.

Like staying here
all night uninvited.

Surprise is the most
important element of attack.

And besides, you're not up on
your private eye literature.

When they're in trouble, it's
always their Girl Friday

who gets them out of it.

Is she the girl that saves
them from the clutches

of the seductive showgirls

and the over-passionate
daughters of the rich?

- The same.
- That's the one, huh?

It's funny. He never ends
up marrying her, does he?

That's strange.

Weird.

Why don't I slip into
something more comfortable?

By all means.

I mean, like the kitchen
and make us some coffee.

Oh, and some brandy, too, huh?

Harry.

- Jeff.
- Hi.

What else have you got
on this man Thorwald?

Well, enough to scare me you wouldn't
show up in time and we'd lose him.

Think he's getting out of here?

Look, he's got
everything he owns

laid out over there in the
bedroom, waiting to be packed.

I'm just warming some brandy.
Mr. Doyle, I presume?

Tom, this is Miss Lisa Fremont.

How do you do?

We think Thorwald's guilty.

Careful, Tom.

- Hello.
- Lieutenant Doyle.

Yeah, he's right here.
For you.

- Hello.
- Lieutenant Doyle, sir?

Speaking.

Yeah.

All right.

I see. Thank you. Goodbye.

Coffee will be ready soon.

Jeff, aren't you going to
tell him about the jewelry?

Jewelry?

He's got his wife's jewelry hidden in
his clothes in the bedroom over there.

You sure it belonged
to his wife?

It was in her favorite handbag.

Mr. Doyle, that can only
lead to one conclusion.

Namely?

That it was not Mrs. Thorwald that
left with him yesterday morning.

You figured that out, eh?

Well, it's simply that women
don't leave their jewelry behind

when they go on a trip.

Come on, come on, Tom.

Now you don't really need any
of this information, do you?

As a matter of fact, I don't.

Lars Thorwald is no more
a murderer than I am.

You mean to say you can explain
everything that's gone on over there,

and is still going on?

No, neither can you.

That's a secret, private world
you're looking into out there.

People do a lot of things in private they
couldn't possibly explain in public.

Like disposing of their wives?

You get that idea out of your mind.
It'll only lead in the wrong direction.

What about the
knife and the saw?

Did you ever own a saw?

Well, at home in
the garage I had...

How many people
did you cut up with it?

Or with the couple of hundred knives
you've probably owned in your lifetime?

Well, your logic is backward.

You can't ignore the wife disappearing
and the trunk and the jewelry.

I checked the railroad station.
He bought a ticket.

Ten minutes later, he put
his wife on a train.

Destination, Merritsville.
The witnesses are that deep.

That might have been a woman, but it
couldn't have been Mrs. Thorwald.

- That jewelry...
- Look, Miss Fremont.

That feminine intuition
stuff sells magazines.

But in real life,
it's still a fairy tale.

I don't know how many
wasted years I've spent

tracking down leads based
on female intuition.

All right. I take it you
didn't find the trunk,

and all this is from an old speech you
once made at the Policemen's Ball.

I found the trunk a half-hour
after I left here.

I suppose it's normal for a man to
tie up a trunk with heavy rope?

Well, if the lock
is broken, yes.

And what did you find inside the trunk?
A surly note to me?

Mrs. Thorwald's clothes.

Clean, well packed.
Not stylish, but presentable.

Didn't you take them
off to the crime lab?

I sent them on their
merry and legal way.

Why, when a woman is taking
a simple, short trip,

does she take
everything she owns?

Let's let the female psychology
department handle that one.

I would say it looked as
if she wasn't coming back.

That's what's known
as a family problem.

And if she wasn't coming back,
why didn't he tell his landlord?

I'll tell you why
he didn't tell his landlord.

Because he was hiding something.

Do you tell your
landlord everything?

I told you to be careful, Tom.

Look, if I'd have been careful piloting
that reconnaissance plane during the war,

you wouldn't have had the
chance to take the pictures

that won you a medal, and a
good job, and fame and money.

What do you say we all sit down and
have a nice, friendly drink, too? Hmm?

Forget all about this.

We can tell lies about the
good old days during the war.

You mean you're through
with the case?

There is no case to be
through with, Miss Fremont.

How about that drink?

Yeah, I guess you're right.

Well, I think I better get
home and get some sleep.

Cheers.

Not much of a snifter.

Oh, Jeff, if you
need any more help...

Consult the Yellow Pages
in your telephone directory.

Oh, I love funny exiting lines.

Who was that trunk
addressed to?

Mrs. Anna Thorwald.

Well, then let's wait and
find out who picks it up.

Oh, that telephone call.
I gave them your number.

I hope you don't mind.

Depends on who they were.

The police at Merritsville.

They reported the trunk
was just picked up

by Mrs. Anna Thorwald.

Don't stay up too late.

- Look.
- What?

Yeah, he's kind
of young, isn't he?

What are you doing?

You know, much as I hate to give Thomas J.
Doyle too much credit,

he might have gotten a hold
of something when he said

that was pretty private
stuff going on out there.

I wonder if it's ethical to watch a man
with binoculars and a long-focus lens.

Do you... Do you
suppose it's ethical,

even if you prove that he
didn't commit a crime?

I'm not much on
rear-window ethics.

Of course, they can
do the same thing to me.

Watch me like a bug under
a glass, if they want to.

Jeff, you know, if someone came in here,
they wouldn't believe what they'd see.

What?

You and me with long faces.

Plunged into despair because we find
out a man didn't kill his wife.

We're two of the most frightening
ghouls I've ever known.

You'd think we could be a little bit happy
that the poor woman is alive and well.

Whatever happened to that old
saying, "Love thy neighbor"?

You know, I think I'll start
reviving that tomorrow.

Yeah, I'll begin
with Miss Torso.

Not if I have to move into
an apartment across the way

and do the Dance of the
Seven Veils every hour.

Show's over for tonight.

Preview of coming attractions.

Did Mr. Doyle think
I stole this case?

No, Lisa, I don't think he did.

What do you think?

Well...

I will rephrase the question.

Thank you.

Do you like it?

Yes, I like it.

Well...

What's the matter?

- Somebody's hurt?
- It's the dog.

Something's happened to the dog.

What's the trouble?
Somebody fall out a window?

See, it's a dog down there.

It's dead.

It's been strangled.
The neck is broken.

Which one of you did it?

Which one of you killed my dog?

You don't know the meaning
of the word "Neighbors."

Neighbors like each other,
speak to each other,

care if anybody lives or dies.

But none of you do!

But I couldn't imagine
any of you being so low

that you'd kill a little
helpless, friendly dog.

The only thing in this whole
neighborhood who liked anybody.

Did you kill him
because he liked you?

Just because he liked you?

Let's go inside.

Come on. Let's go back in.
It's only a dog.

You know, for a minute, that Tom Doyle
almost had me convinced I was wrong.

- But you're not?
- Look.

In the whole courtyard, only one
person didn't come to the window.

Look.

Why would Thorwald want
to kill a little dog?

Because it knew too much?

You think this is worth
waiting all day to see?

Is he cleaning house?

He's washing down
the bathroom walls.

Hmm.

Must have splattered a lot.

Well, why not? That's
what we're all thinking.

He killed her in there, he has to clean
up those stains before he leaves.

Oh, Stella, your
choice of words.

Nobody ever invented a
polite word for a killing yet.

Lisa? Lisa, back there, on that shelf,
there's a little yellow box. You see it?

- Top one?
- Right on top, yeah.

Bring it. And bring
me the viewer there.

I just got a...

Now, these are
about two weeks old.

I hope I took something else
besides leg art. Now which one...

- What are you looking for?
- Here.

There's something, and if I'm right,
I think I've solved a murder.

- Mrs. Thorwald?
- No.

No, the dog.

Uh-huh.

I think I know why
Thorwald killed that dog.

Here, now you take a look.
Tell me what you see.

Now take it down.

Now look again. Now take it down.
You see?

But it's just a picture
of the backyard, that's all.

One important change.
One important change.

Those flowers in
Thorwald's pet flower bed.

You mean where the dog
was sniffing around?

Where the dog was digging.
Now look at those flowers.

Look, right? Those two
yellow zinnias on this end

aren't as tall as they were.

Now, since when do flowers
grow shorter in two weeks?

There's something buried there.

Mrs. Thorwald.

You haven't spent much time
around cemeteries, have you?

Mr. Thorwald could scarcely
put his wife's body

in a plot of ground
about one foot square.

Unless, of course, he put
her in standing on end,

and then he wouldn't
need a knife and saw.

No, my idea is she's
scattered all over town.

- Leg in the East River...
- Oh, Stella, please!

No, no, no. There's
something in there.

Those flowers have been
taken out and put back in.

- Maybe it's the knife and saw.
- Yeah.

Call Lieutenant Doyle.

No, let's wait.

Let's wait till it gets a little darker,
and I'll go over there and dig them up.

You'll go? You won't dig anything
up and get your neck broken.

No, no, we've...

We're not gonna call Doyle until I
can produce Mrs. Thorwald's body.

What we've got to do is find a
way to get into that apartment.

He's packing.

Uh-oh.

Here, get me a pencil.

Stella, get me some note paper.
It's up here someplace.

There it is.

You did it, Thorwald.
You did it.

Look out, Lisa.
He's coming.

You never should have let her do it.
If he ever...

Look. Look. Look.

Well, thank heaven that's over.

All right if I have a drink?

Sure, go ahead.

There's no doubt about it. He's leaving.
It's just a question of when.

Mind if I use that
portable keyhole?

Go ahead, just as long as you
tell me what you're looking at.

I wonder...

Wonder what?

Miss Lonelyheart's
just laid out something

that looks like rhodium
tri-eckonal capsules.

You can tell from here?

I've handled enough of those red
pills to put everybody in Hackensack

to sleep for the winter.

Well, does she have
enough of them to...

No. It will make
the rest easy to...

Wasn't that close?

What was his reaction. I mean,
when he looked at the note?

Well, it wasn't the kind of an expression

that would get him a
quick loan at the bank.

Jeff, the handbag!

Suppose Mrs. Thorwald's
wedding ring

is among the jewelry
he has in that handbag?

Now, during the phone conversation
he held up three rings.

One with a diamond, one with
a big stone of some sort

and then just
a plain gold band.

And the last thing she would leave
behind would be a wedding ring.

Stella, do you ever
leave yours at home?

The only way anybody could get that
ring would be to chop off my finger.

Let's go down and find out
what's buried in the garden.

Why not? I've always wanted
to meet Mrs. Thorwald.

- What are you two talking about?
- You got a shovel?

A shovel? Of course I
don't have a shovel.

There's probably
one in the basement.

Jeff, if you're squeamish,
just don't look.

Squeamish?
I'm not squeamish.

I just don't want you two to end up
like that dog ended up. That's all.

Oh, you know, Miss Fremont, he
might just have something there.

Just hold on.
Here, take this.

No sense taking any
chances in this thing.

Here, give me the phone book.

What for?

Maybe I can get him
out of that apartment.

We only need a few minutes.

I'll see if I can
get about 15 minutes.

How?

Thorwald.

Thorwald...
Thorwald...

Chelsea 27099.

27099.

We scared him once, maybe
we can scare him again.

Well, I guess I'm using that
word "we" a little freely.

I mean, you're taking
all the chances.

Shall we vote him in, Stella?

Unanimously.

27099. Look out.

Chelsea.

Chelsea.

Go on, pick it up, Thorwald.

Go on, you're curious.

You wonder if it's your girlfriend
calling, the one you killed for.

Go on, pick it up.

Hello?

Did you get my note?

Well, did you get it, Thorwald?

Who are you?

I'll give you a
chance to find out.

Meet me in the bar
at the Albert Hotel.

Do it right away.

Why should I?

A little business meeting...

To settle the estate
of your late wife.

I don't know what you mean.

Come on. Quit stalling, Thorwald, or
I'll hang up and call the police.

I have only $100 or so.

That's a start.

I'm at the Albert now.
I'll be looking for you.

Come on, Stella, let's go.

One of you keep an
eye on this window.

If I see him coming back,
I'll signal with a flashbulb.

This is the Doyle residence.

Hello, this is L. B. Jefferies speaking.
I'm a friend of Mr. Doyle.

Who's this?

This is a babysitter.

Oh. Uh...

When do you expect them in?

Well, I'm hired till 1:00. They went
to dinner and maybe a nightclub.

I see.

If he calls in, would you have him get
in touch with L. B. Jefferies right away?

I might have quite
a surprise for him.

Well, do we have your
number, Mr. Jefferies?

He has it.
Good night.

Good night.

Stella was wrong
about Miss Lonelyheart.

Lisa, what are you...
Don't do...

Lisa, what are you
doing? Don't go...

Come on, come on!
Get out of there!

She said ring Thorwald's phone the
second you see him come back.

I'm gonna ring it right now!

Oh, no. Give her
another minute.

All right, fellows, let's
try it once from the beginning.

Miss Lonelyheart.

Oh, call the police!

Operator.

Get me the police,
sixth precinct.

Yes, sir.

Mr. Jefferies,
the music stopped her.

What... Lisa!

Lisa!

Precinct 6,
Sergeant Allgood.

Hello. Hello. Look, a man is assaulting
a woman at 125 West 9th Street.

Second floor, at the rear.
Make it fast!

Your name?

L. B. Jefferies.

Phone number?

Chelsea 25598.

The door was open.

- I told you...
- Oh, no!

Let go of me! Jeff!

Oh, no!

Jeff! Jeff!

Jeff!

Lisa!

Stella, what do we do?

Jeff!

- Jeff!
- Well, here they come.

What's she trying to do?
Why doesn't she turn him in?

She's a smart girl.

"Smart girl"? She'll
get herself arrested.

It'll get her out
of there, won't it?

Look, the wedding ring!

Turn off the light!
He's seen us!

How long do you think
he'll stay there?

Well, unless he's dumber than I think he
is, he won't wait until his lease is up.

Get my billfold out of the
drawer in the table there.

What do you need money for?

I'm gonna bail
Lisa out of jail.

You know, you could leave her
there till next Tuesday,

then you could sneak
safely away as planned.

Yeah, let's
see. $127.

How much do you need?

Well, this is first-offense
burglary, that's about $250.

- Lisa's handbag.
- Yeah.

How much does she have?

Fifty cents.

Here, take this.

Look, I got $20 or so
in my purse.

What about the rest?
What about the rest?

When those cops see Lisa,
they'll even contribute.

Well, hurry up.

Just a minute.
Hurry up!

Jefferies.

All right.
What is it now?

Doyle, I've got something
really big for you.

Why did I have to
return your call?

Look, Jeff! Don't louse up my
night with another mad killer...

Listen to me! Listen to me! Lisa's in jail.
She got arrested.

- Your Lisa?
- My Lisa.

Boy, you should have seen her. She
got into Thorwald's apartment.

But then he came back, and the only way I
could get her out was to call the police.

- I told you...
- I know you told me!

She went in to get evidence and
she came out with evidence.

- Like what?
- Like what?

Like Mrs. Thorwald's wedding ring.
That's like what.

If that woman was alive, she'd
be wearing that ring. Right?

- A possibility.
- A possibility. It's a fact!

He killed a dog last night because the
dog was scratching around in the garden.

You know why? Because he had something
buried in that garden that the dog scented.

Like an old ham bone?

Look, I don't know what pet names
Thorwald had for his wife,

but I'll tell you this,

all those trips at night
with that metal suitcase,

he wasn't taking
out his possessions,

because his possessions
are still up in the apartment.

Perhaps it was
old "ham bone."

Yeah, in sections.

And I'll tell you
something else.

All the telephone calls he made
were long distance, all right?

Now, if he called his wife long
distance on the day she left,

after she arrived
in Merritsville,

why did she write a card to him saying
that she'd arrived in Merritsville?

Why did she do that?

Where'd they take Lisa?

Precinct 6.

I sent somebody over
with the bail money.

Maybe you won't need it.

I'll run it down, Jeff.

All right. All right.
Now hurry up, will you?

This fellow knows
he's being watched.

He's not gonna wait around forever.
Hurry up.

If that ring checks out,
we'll give him an escort.

- So long, Jeff.
- So long.

Hello. Hello. Tom, I think Thorwald's left.
I don't see...

Hello...

What do you want from me?

Your friend, the girl,
could have turned me in.

Why didn't she?

What is it you want? A lot of money?
I don't have any money.

Say something.

Say something! Tell
me what you want!

Can you get me that ring back?

No.

Tell her to bring it back!

I can't. The police
have it by now.

Lisa! Doyle!

Over there!

Look! Look, over
in that apartment!

Doyle!

Creele!
Give me your .38!

I'm sorry, Jeff. I got
here as fast as I could!

Oh, Mr. Jefferies! Don't
let anybody touch him.

Get my medical
bag from upstairs.

Oh, Lisa, sweetie, if anything
had happened to you...

Oh, shut up.
I'm all right.

Gee, I'm proud of you!

You got enough for
a search warrant now?

Oh, yeah, sure.

- Lieutenant Doyle!
- Yeah?

Is he okay?

He's alive.

Thorwald's ready to take us
on a tour of the East River.

Did he say what was
buried in the flower bed?

Yeah. He said the dog got too
inquisitive, so he dug it up.

It's in a hat box
over in his apartment.

- Want to look?
- No, thanks.

I don't want any part of her.

I hope it's gonna be a hit.
This is the first release.

I'd love to hear it.

I can't tell you what this
music has meant to me.

Lisa, with your starry eyes

Now, let's try it again, puppy.

Stay still. Stay.

Hold me and whisper the sweet
words I'm yearning for

Drown me in kisses

- Stanley!
- Hi, baby!

Caresses I'm burning for

My, look what the
Army's done for you!

Lisa, every touch
is new ecstasy

The Army's made me hungry. What've
you got in the icebox to eat?

Boy, it's good to be home.

Lisa, angels dance
when you cling to me

I don't care if
you help me or not,

but if you'd told me you'd quit your
job, we wouldn't have gotten married.

Oh, honey, come on...

If this is dreaming

I hope I'll never wake

But dream forever

In your arms, oh, Lisa

Lisa