Original subtitles

Another of the same, Mr. Mardig?

Yeah, but make this one with a touch more authority, huh?

That I'll do.

How come you got pictures of both the candidates up there?

You see, Red isn't figuring on losing business

by taking sides.

People for Foster get that half of the bar.

People for Cartwell, the other.

That puts me where I should be, right in the middle.

How long has that little chick been over there?

Oh, half hour.

Do you know her, Mr. Mardig?

Well, her face is sort of familiar,

but I've reached the age where all teenagers look alike.

She'd better not be a teenager, drinking daiquiris.

David?

Uh, whatever she's having

and a, uh... a double bourbon for me.

All right.

Hi.

Are you all right?

Now, why wouldn't I be?

I thought they might have beaten you up or something.

I told you, collection day's tomorrow.

And you've got the money?

Now, wh... Where would I get $6,000?

And don't start telling me

I should have thought of that when I wrote the check.

It was the only way I could get out of Vegas alive.

David, couldn't we go away somewhere?

Find someplace far, far off and get married and live?

I could get a job while you finish law school.

What would big brother Jason do?

He wouldn't do anything.

Are you kidding?

Kid sister and no-good stepson of the rival candidate

for state senator running off together.

Running away won't work, sweetheart.

If Jason doesn't find us, the gamblers will.

They've got connections everywhere.

If you don't mind, miss, I'd like to see your I.D. card.

I've already shown it to the bartender.

Well, I'd like to see it just the same, huh?

Oh, Susan Foster.

Age 22.

Jason Foster's sister?

Yes.

Let's see what your driver's license says, huh?

Well, that's more like it.

17, according to this.

I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you two in.

Now, just a minute.

Why me?

Buying drinks for a minor.

I haven't bought any drinks yet.

Besides, how was I to know she's a minor?

That's right, Officer.

How was he to know?

He... he didn't even know my name

a few minutes ago when he came in.

I... I picked him up.

Well, I guess that takes you off the hook, then.

But you, Miss Foster, I'm still going to have to take you in.

Get your things.

Why, of all the crummy, yellow rats.

Who asked your opinion?

I... I guess nobody, Mr. Mardig.

See you tomorrow, David.

Oh, uh, Mrs. Foster, would you mind

getting a little closer to your husband?

Ah, that's fine.

Oh, hold it just a minute.

Let's get the lady who's masterminding this campaign.

Alma, get in here.

Thought this was supposed to be a family picture.

You are, but make it look as though you like the idea.

Yes, everybody smile.

- Good. - That's it.

The name is Alma Rice.

Rice Real Estate Company.

Largest in the area, in case you don't know.

Thanks for the plug.

Senator Cartwell charged in a speech last night

that you've sold out to Harry Mardig

and the others promoting the new race track.

- Any comment? - Senator Cartwell is wrong.

I haven't sold out to Harry Mardig or anybody else.

Does that mean you're opposed to the track?

Depends on where they put it.

Land better used for housing, then I'm opposed.

- Thank you, Mr. Foster. - Pleasure.

Returns from the second and third precinct.

Looks good.

- Uh, Mr. Foster? - Yes, sir.

Could I, uh, talk to you for a moment

kind of private-like?

You're Officer Rohr, aren't you?

That's right... Carl Rohr.

All right, come this way.

Now, don't tell me my wife's drawn another parking ticket.

No.

I'm afraid it's a bit more serious, Mr. Foster.

Tell me something.

Did you ever hear of a place

at the north end of town called Red's Reef?

Am I supposed to have?

Oh, your sister didn't tell you, then?

My sister hasn't told me anything

since she was 14 years old.

Now, what's this about Red's Reef?

Well, I had to take her out of there last night.

She was using a fake I.D. card to drink with some joker

that she picked up.

That's just dandy.

Who bailed her out?

Well, I, uh... I never booked her.

I mean, you know, you, uh...

you running for state senator, I figured it'd be better

if I just, uh... just sent her on home.

You have any idea the painful things

that could happen to a cop trying a shakedown.

Oh, Mr. Fos...

Look, I'm one of your big supporters.

What do you want?

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

I just thought it's something that you ought to know about.

- That's all. - Rohr.

Thanks.

Listen, don't thank me.

Harry Mardig's the one you better thank.

- Harry Mardig? - Yeah, yeah.

I'd have taken her in until he came out

and convinced me it was the wrong thing to do.

See you, Mr. Foster.

Do you smell what I smell?

Yes.

Harry Mardig and his race track group

are trying to box me in through Susan.

Fake I.D. cards... I know these teenagers use them.

Picking up a joker at a bar?

That doesn't sound like her.

Could be that this joker wasn't a pickup.

David?

David.

Be with you in a second.

Hi.

Why aren't you in school?

What are you, the law school truant officer now, Alma?

I called the school.

They were a little evasive about you.

Well, if you must know, the dean and I

had a little conference last week

in which it was decided the law wasn't exactly my forte.

Where were you last night?

Last night?

Why, I was out having fun and games with some of the boys.

"Some of the boys."

Not Susan Foster?

That little teenage creep?

What would I be doing with her?

That's what I came to find out.

Well, good old Auntie Alma.

Who are you mothering, her or me?

If I'm mothering anybody, it's Jason Foster.

Somebody helped Harry Mardig

get Susan into trouble at Red's Reef last night.

Was that somebody you?

No.

I haven't seen Susan in... in weeks.

What, uh, sort of trouble did she get into?

Are you telling the truth?

Of course.

All right.

But if I find out different...

You'll do what?

But why can't we go out tonight, David?

Nobody knows about last night.

Well, just tell them

that they'll have to wait for their money.

Kill you?

Oh, they couldn't.

They wouldn't do th... Somebody's coming.

What's this I hear about the trouble

you got into at Red's Reef last night?

How would I know what you heard?

And what business is it of yours anyway?

I happen to be the head of this family.

That's what business it is.

Look, Susan.

Are you trying to fix it so that I won't get elected?

I couldn't care less.

Look, kitten.

I've gone along with Margaret.

Let you have your own car, buy your own clothes,

a raise in your allowance,

but for the last couple of years,

you've given me nothing but trouble.

- Why? - Why?

I'll tell you why.

Because you personally insist on treating me

as though I were a 14-year-old delinquent.

I'm treating you the way Mother and Dad

would treat you if they were alive.

You're treating me like a child, and I'm not.

You're under 18 years old, Susan.

In my book, that's a child.

In the law's book, it is, too.

Picking up men in bars... How delinquent can you get?

Would you like to know who I picked up in that bar?

David Cartwell.

You've been seeing him again?

- Why not? - Why not?

Weren't you listening when I gave you a rundown on him?

It's a wonder that Randolph Cartwell

hasn't booted him out a long time ago.

Well, you can have the pleasure of doing that

after David and I are married.

You figuring on marrying him, Susan?

That's right, brother dear.

I'm figuring on marrying him.

Oh, yes?

Well, you're going to stay in this room

and in this house until further notice.

Do you understand?

What are you going to do?

I'm going to have a talk with your boyfriend, Susan.

That's what I'm going to do.

Well, how did it go, darling?

Not good.

It sounded even worse than "not good" from here.

You know, all that was missing was a crack

of a cat-o'-nine-tails on bare flesh.

If I'd have had 'em, I'd have used 'em.

Margaret, she wants to marry David Cartwell.

Oh, no.

Yes.

I'll talk to her.

How many times have you talked to her?

20 times? 30 times? And what good did it do?

But it'll do good eventually.

Oh, honey, look.

She's going through a very difficult period.

She needs our patience, our understanding, our help.

Well, you had your chance

with patience and understanding and help.

Now it's my turn.

I'd say your situation is rather awkward, Jason.

Hope you're not concerned about Susan

merely because of the coming election.

I'd quit this campaign in 30 seconds

if I thought it'd do any good.

Now, what about my idea of going into court

and getting myself appointed her legal guardian?

Arranging proper guardianship

is something you should have done

immediately after your parents died.

When Susan was a child.

What about now? She's still a minor.

Yes, but she's 17, and the court will respect

her opinion of the person to be her guardian.

I assume she'll object rather strenuously to you.

Well, you're my lawyer. What do I do?

Well, I have one suggestion.

If young Cartwell did help Harry Mardig

arrange for Susan to be arrested at Red's Reef,

then proof of that should open her eyes.

Where do I get proof?

Della, have Paul Drake come in.

Right.

Paul's a private investigator,

one of the best in the business.

And he's expensive.

It's Susan's happiness at stake, Perry.

The sky's the limit.

Paul, this is Jason Foster,

one of my favorite candidates for the state Senate.

Foster. I have only one vote, but it's at your disposal.

Thank you.

Where did you get this photograph, Edgerton?

Harry Mardig.

He expects you to publish it in the Citrus Valley News?

No, he simply gave it to me

as something that might interest us.

"Simply gave it to you," hmm?

Mm-hmm.

Or could it be, Edgerton, that you and Mardig and his group

were doing a bit of conniving behind my back?

Whatever gave you that idea?

Your editorials in the News.

You seem to have softened considerably

on the racetrack issue.

Well, now, there are two sides to everything, Randolph,

and I have to print them.

But as for conniving, why...

I'm your brother.

A fact I've been aware of for 55 years.

Just as I've been aware you'd do almost anything,

short of fratricide, for a quick dollar.

That's not fair.

Oh, I realize it's your nose for money

that's made the estate prosper.

But don't let it lead you into trying to cajole

or trick me into anything.

There will be no deals with Mardig,

and no racetrack, as long as I'm representing this district.

I advise you to keep that clearly in mind.

Here, return this to Mardig.

With my compliments.

Senator?

I have a question to ask you.

Get out, Edgerton.

Jason.

All right, Jason.

Ask away.

You remember my sister, Susan?

Of course.

A policeman picked her up in a Northside bar last night.

Drinking while still a minor.

I'm sorry to hear that.

That's not all.

Harry Mardig just happened to be there at the time.

And he also just happened to talk the policeman

into letting Susan go.

Which makes me think that the whole thing was planned.

How could you possibly think I had a part in it?

Because your stepson just happened to be there, too.

With Susan.

Have David come in here.

Um, what is it, Dad?

Mr. Foster says you were with Susan last night

when she was arrested for underage drinking.

Did, uh, Susan tell you that?

Yes.

All right, I was with her.

But nothing happened.

The policeman let her go.

And it happens I did not get her that drink.

She got it before I met her.

You can ask her.

You're the one being asked, David,

Was Harry Mardig with you?

Well, he was there, but, uh, not with us.

Did you conspire with him to have Susan arrested?

- Well, no. - Or with me?

Is that what he's saying?

Answer my question.

I did not conspire with you or anyone.

It just happened.

Does that satisfy you, Jason?

Senator, I wouldn't believe him on a stack of Bibles.

How did Harry Mardig know that Susan would be there

unless you told him?

Maybe Susan told him.

She... she doesn't happen to like you very much, Mr. Foster.

I ought to punch you right in the face.

That'll do, Jason.

I think you owe us both an apology.

Maybe so, Senator.

But apology or not,

let's get one thing clear:

you're not going to marry my sister.

Now, you stay clear of her,

or you'll wish you were dead.

I'll be seeing you, Senator.

Don't get the wind up about Susan, Dad.

She's just a kid I'm having a little fun with.

Hello. I'm Jason Foster.

Where has my sister been?

Oh, how are you, Mr. Foster?

Why, at the old Cartwell estate, up on Eucalyptus Drive.

Thank you.

Susan...

I suppose you thought taking my car keys would keep me in.

Where have you been?

Don't lie, because I have a pretty good idea.

I've been at David's.

Where, is what I asked!

If you must know, at the little house he has

on his stepfather's estate.

Was this the first time you'd been there?

Answer me! Is it?

I've been there dozens of times.

Ah!

Margaret?

Margaret!

Margaret...

- Susan, what is it? - It's Jason.

He's on his way to David's house on the Cartwell estate,

and I'm afraid he's going to do something terrible to him.

I mean something terrible!

David?

♪♪

♪♪

The masses rise for Jason Foster.

All 50 of them.

Large or small, I like it.

The first campaign parade I've seen in years.

Noon speech at the park...

Alma thought some old-fashioned hoopla

would bring out the folks.

Just as well saved our money.

Senator Cartwell's finished, now.

That depends on who killed young Cartwell.

Well, you don't believe Susan could have.

No, she wouldn't have acted the way she did when she got home.

Still, it might be a good idea

if we could prove that she didn't.

Your man Drake handle that?

- Of course. - Good.

I'm due at the park.

You and Alma can brief him.

Thanks very much for coming over.

'Morning, Perry. Hi, Della.

Hi, Paul.

Paul, this is Alma Rice, Jason Foster's campaign manager.

- How do you do? - Mr. Drake.

How do you do?

What about the trouble at Red's Reef?

You're still interested?

I talked to Rohr, the policeman who picked Susan up.

He claims it was just a routine bar check,

but he's plenty scared about something.

And Harry Mardig?

I hit pay dirt on him in sort of a roundabout way.

A couple of weeks ago, young Cartwell wrote a check

for $6,000 to cover a gambling debt in Las Vegas.

- The check was bad. - Where did you learn that?

Gossip around town. I checked it out at the bank.

Anyway, I called the casino in Vegas

and found that his check had been sold to one Harry Mardig.

Could explain young Cartwell being in cahoots with him.

How about the people at Red's?

Well, the only bet so far is a bartender.

He was off yesterday, but he'll be there

around 1:00 or 1:30 today.

Better talk to him.

And look into the Cartwell killing.

Any further suggestion, Miss Rice?

Oh... real estate's my line, Mr. Mason.

Not murder.

You've got to use the picture, Edgerton!

Otherwise, the Senator's a gone goose!

Randolph would never let me publish it.

- You run the paper, don't you? - Yes, but he's half owner.

Well, stick it in your half, then.

There's-there's too much involved

for either of us to back down now.

What... what about a deal with Foster

in return for not publishing it?

The only kind of deal you'd get from Foster

is a kick in the pants.

It has to be this way!

Now, I got the cop fixed good.

And with this picture as a springboard, we can...

we can put on some dirt about her running around with David.

Maybe even throw suspicion on her for the killing,

if we have to.

Alma.

Well, where's the champagne, Edgerton?

Champagne?

To toast to whichever one of you two killed David.

All right.

We won't go into that now.

But we will something else.

I was going to ask you just what it was

you two were up to with Jason Foster,

but it looks like I don't have to.

Blackmail or smear, which was it going to be, Harry?

Take it easy, Alma.

Remember, you're in this, too.

Oh, no, I'm not.

It was a simple business deal, my fronting for you

and getting the option on the racetrack land.

What about your agreeing to sell the racetrack deal to Foster?

A simple business deal, too?

I said I'd try to sell him on the idea.

I didn't say anything about using bad checks

to frame 17-year-old girls,

or peddling compromising pictures of the event.

You got sharp ears, Alma; maybe too sharp.

Let me ask you something:

$1,400,000 is involved if the deal goes through.

What's your commission on that?

Zero.

That's my cut, Harry.

Unless you agree to forget that this was ever taken.

I've got other prints.

Use just one,

and I go to Jason with the whole story.

And what'll he do to you?

Toss me out on my ear,

which is just about what I deserve

for getting mixed up with scum like you.

Mardig is a dangerous wheel in this area, Mr. Drake...

but you're right.

Murder does make a difference.

He and the Cartwell punk were in it together,

just like you thought.

Pretending not to know each other

until Rohr took the girl out.

Then they spoke.

What did they say?

Well, now, come to think of it, only Mardig spoke.

He said, "See you tomorrow, David."

Now, that's when I knew.

This Rohr: what's his reputation?

You mean, could he have been in it with Mardig, too?

I'll bet he was.

Now, word is that a C-note will buy plenty from him.

I see.

Thanks very much.

Uh, Mr. Drake...

Now, this may not mean anything,

but it struck me kind of funny.

What's that?

I came in for my check around 3:00 yesterday afternoon,

and there was young Cartwell,

sitting in that booth across there,

having drinks and a cozy chat with...

With whom?

Mrs. Foster.

What is it?

This is Paul Drake. I'm a private investigator.

I'd like to talk to Senator Cartwell for a moment,

about his stepson.

Senator Cartwell doesn't wish to be disturbed.

Say, buddy.

- Oh, it's you again, huh? - That's right.

Now, look, the place has been officially sealed up,

so don't get any notions about nosing around inside, huh?

I wouldn't think of it.

Uh... maybe you can tell me a couple of things.

I'm telling you nothing except stay out of my hair, huh?

You a policeman, mister?

Nope. Private investigator.

My name's Findlay, Rufus Findlay.

Do cut-rate hauling hereabouts.

Mr. Findlay, I'd advise you not to hang around here.

The police take a dim view of sightseers.

Notion hit me passing by

that maybe I ought to talk to the police.

Is it anything important?

See that smashed fender?

Lady did it hightailing it out of here

in one them little foreign jobs round 11:30 last night.

Paid me $75 to forget it.

Would forget it except for reading about

young Cartwell's killing in the newspaper.

Did the lady give you her name?

No, but I recognized her.

Seen her with her husband when he was making speeches;

Jason Foster's wife.

Margaret?

Hello, Jason.

Hello, sweetheart.

Well, now that's better.

How's Susan?

Oh, fine.

Where is she?

Upstairs.

I'll go have a talk with her.

- Jason... - Hmm?

Are you sure you should?

What do you mean, am I sure?

Is there any reason I shouldn't talk to her?

No.

Okay then.

Susan?

Hi.

Susan, don't you think you ought to get up,

get something to eat?

Look, baby, I know it hurts.

Kitten, are you acting this way to me

because you think I killed David?

You're thinking wrong.

I know I was angry when I left here,

but I started to cool off by the time I got up

to the Cartwell place.

I got to thinking, it wouldn't do you or me any good

if I rousted him around.

Only make you like me less... and him more.

So I drove by the place, went on up to the hills.

I sat there for the better part of an hour

thinking of the best way

to patch things up between you and me.

That's the truth, so help me, baby.

Mr. Mason's on the phone.

He says it's important he talk to us.

Where is he?

At campaign headquarters.

Tell him we'll be right there.

It seems like you two were working against me

instead of for me with this nonsense you brought in.

The police won't think it's nonsense, Jason,

when they learn about it.

Well, let's settle it right now.

Honey, the bartender at Red's Reef said

he saw you having drinks with David Cartwell.

Oh, he...

he must have mistaken me for someone else.

And the other part...

Smashing a truck coming out of the Cartwell gates...

Did you do that?

I never left the house last night.

Now you've all heard the senator's point of view,

and you've all heard mine.

The senator's fighting

to keep Citrus Valley the way it's always been...

Groves, cottonwood arroyos, sagebrush hills

with a few scattered houses.

Well, I want you all to know that I'm all for that.

I think it's a fine idea.

But it's a lost cause.

The forces of growth and progress

are too strong to fight, so I say, join 'em.

Now, the thing to do is to make good, solid plans

for fine housing, playgrounds, parks,

and a model shopping area,

and make sure that these plans are followed.

Now, that way, you'll still be proud

of this valley that you're living in.

Now, there's one thing more.

All during this campaign,

I've repeatedly said that your ballots

are paper bullets to shoot down the candidates

that you don't want elected.

It seems that a real bullet

has gotten mixed into this,

and I want you to all know

that I'm sorry that this has happened,

but don't be swayed by it.

The important things are the issues,

so fire those paper bullets

at the issues on election day!

An excellent speech, Jason.

And thanks for not trying to capitalize on David's death.

Did you think I would, Senator?

Mr. Foster?

Lieutenant.

Speech all right?

I'm afraid I didn't hear much.

Mrs. Foster, I have here a warrant

charging you with the murder of David Cartwell.

Margaret, I'm not trying to frighten you,

but the State's constructed

an impressive mass of evidence against you.

I can't help it, Mr. Mason.

I didn't kill him.

But I can't believe that you didn't see him that night

before the collision outside the gates.

I told you, I never left the house.

Could it be, Margaret,

that you're trying to protect someone?

I-I'm... I'm not trying to protect anyone, Mr. Mason.

I...

All I know is that, uh, I didn't kill him.

I didn't kill him.

As for motive, Your Honor,

the State will show

that when the defendant realized

that David Cartwell wasn't keeping the bargain

she made with him,

a bargain involving breaking off relations

with her 17-year-old sister-in-law,

a bargain sealed with a considerable sum of cash,

she substituted live bullets for the paper bullets

which her husband had been urging the voters to shoot,

and she killed him!

May we proceed, Your Honor?

Call your first witness.

Hello, Susan.

The State calls Senator Randolph Cartwell.

8:00 being the time

you customarily leave the house in the morning, Senator?

Yes, I like to get down to headquarters early.

Would you tell the court what took place

on the morning in question?

As I neared the estate gates,

I noticed lights in the gatehouse,

and heard a record player playing.

That seemed odd.

So, I stopped and went in.

What did you find inside?

David, my stepson,

sprawled out on the living room floor,

quite obviously dead.

So, I phoned the police.

I, uh..

I was close by when the... when the flash came,

which, uh... which made me the first officer there.

Uh, the senator was outside.

And, uh, when he told me what happened, I, uh... I went in.

Well, uh, young Cartwell had been shot,

and so I started looking for the gun.

Did you find it?

No, but, uh,

I found something else, though, part way underneath the couch.

It was a folded-up check.

Can you identify this?

Yes, that's the check I found.

It's made out to David Cartwell, and it's for $6,000.

And signed by?

Miss Margaret Foster.

Then in the language of the layman, Doctor,

this bullet, which you testified you removed from the body,

entered the heart at a slightly upward angle?

After glancing off a rib in the chest cage.

In other words, the bullet's original direction was

at a right angle to the body.

I would say so.

Now, in your opinion, could the decedent,

holding the weapon in two hands,

have fired the fatal bullet himself?

Suicide?

Well, how could that be when no weapon was found?

Doctor, I'm quite aware that no weapon was found.

But it could have been removed by someone later.

Yes, there were powder burns on the deceased's clothing.

And dermal nitrate tests of the hands of the decedent...

Did they show the presence of gunpowder?

We didn't test the hands.

No? Thank you. That's all.

Now, I want you to look around the courtroom,

and see if you can identify the woman

who collided with you that night

and gave you $75 to forget the incident.

Why, that's an easy one.

Mrs. Foster.

After Mr. Findlay informed you

of his encounter with the defendant

outside the Cartwell gates, what did you do, Lieutenant?

Well, I obtained a search warrant

and went to the Foster's garage

where I found a foreign-made car

like the one Findlay told me about.

Did you examine this car?

On the right front fender,

which was damaged, I found traces of paint,

which, after laboratory tests, I found

matched the paint on Findlay's truck.

In your examination of the car, did you uncover anything else?

Yes. In the locked glove compartment,

I found a Luger pistol.

Was this the pistol, Lieutenant?

Well, yes, this has my identification tag on it.

What did you do with it?

Well, I checked its registration,

and found that it belonged to a Jason Foster,

623 Cotton Drive.

The same address as the defendant.

I then checked it ballistically

with the expended bullet removed from the body.

With what determination?

That the fatal bullet had been fired from the gun.

What time of night did you go down

to the gatehouse, Mr. Mardig?

Mm, quarter past 11:00 or so.

Now, would you tell the court what you did

and saw and heard that night, please?

Well, I parked down the road a ways

and walked through the gates.

I didn't think

that Senator Cartwell would exactly approve

of my having business with his stepson.

What was the nature of this business?

Collecting a little debt he owed me,

and said he was ready to pay.

But when I got to the gatehouse, uh, I saw a car parked there.

What kind of car?

Small, and

that's all I noticed because of the racket

that was going on inside the gatehouse.

Racket? What sort of racket?

Well, the radio was blaring out

hillbilly music,

and some woman was yelling at David, giving him blue blazes.

"We had a bargain.

"You-you gave me your word

that you wouldn't see Susan again," she was yelling.

And he was yelling back at her

that he'd see Susan any time he pleased.

I didn't think it was a good time

to be collecting a debt, so I beat it.

Thank you.

Your witness, Mr. Mason.

Mr. Mardig, the State has omitted

to asking a rather obvious question.

Now, were you able to identify the voice

of the woman you heard that night?

With all that hillbilly hootenanny going on,

I have no idea whose voice it was.

Now, as to the, uh, little debt

you say you intended to collect from David Cartwell.

It was actually $6,000, was it not?

Thereabouts.

The result of a bad check,

written in Las Vegas, which you'd acquired?

Mr. Mason, I make all kinds of investments.

Investment, or the trump card to force David Cartwell

into helping you discredit Jason Foster

through his sister, Susan?

I refuse to answer on the grounds

that it might tend to incriminate me.

Incriminate you in what, Mr. Mardig? Murder?

Could it be David Cartwell didn't have the money

to pay you, and that you invented your story

of the small car and the quarrelling voices

to cover the fact that you killed him?

If I'd a done that, Mr. Mason, I'd a gone whole hog...

and identified the woman's voice as hers...

Mrs. Foster.

You say, Mr. Cartwell,

that you were on your way to see your brother

at 11:00, or shortly thereafter that night.

What made you stop at the gate house?

There was a taxi parked outside the gates and, uh,

well, I wondered who was visiting David.

I, uh, I'm a little ashamed at what I did.

I went to one of the windows and looked in.

And saw?

That Susan Foster was the visitor.

I went on then to the main house, discussed some

campaign matters with Randolph,

had a drink as I remember...

and drove home.

Mr. Mason?

When you left the estate, Mr. Cartwell,

was the taxi still parked outside the gates?

No. It was gone.

And the small car Harry Mardig

testified he saw by the gate house...

was it parked there?

There was no car of any sort

parked by the gate house when I left.

Thank you.

You may stand down, Mr. Cartwell.

The State calls Susan Foster.

Raise your right hand. Do you solemnly swear

to tell the truth, whole truth, and nothing but the truth?

- I do. - State your name.

Susan Foster.

Be seated.

Your Honor, Miss Foster may prove a hostile witness.

Hostile? To you?

Well, I'll tell you who I'm hostile to...

My brother Jason!

He killed David!

And me, too!

He took away the only man

that I ever loved... oh!

Just got a call from the Senator,

suggested I withdraw from the race.

I can't do that.

People will think that Margaret and I

really did kill young Cartwell.

Jason... Susan would like to talk with you

if you'll let her.

Of course. Where is she?

Right here, Jason.

Hello, Kitten.

Jason... I'm so sorry.

I've been so mixed up.

Half crazy, I guess.

How could I have ever believed that...

that you'd let Margaret suffer for something you did?

I... I just don't know.

Susan, I want you to tell Jason what you just told me.

Well... first, I...

I lied about ever having been at David's before.

That night was the first time, and...

and he only let me stay a minute.

I-I think it was because he had somebody there with him.

Now tell your brother why you went there.

David said they might beat him up,

even, even kill him,

the men he owed money to, so I...

I took your pistol to him.

Susan left the pistol there? Not Jason?

That doesn't mean you're accusing her, Mr. Mason?

Margaret, I'm accusing no one...

with the possible exception of you

for concealing the truth from me.

Yes.

But with Jason telling Susan

that he was going to David's place, my going after him,

finding his pistol there...

well, it all made it worse for him.

And recognizing the pistol as Jason's, you took it?

Yes.

Did you go there merely because

Susan begged you to go there?

No. Mostly because I...

I wanted to find out why David

hadn't kept his part of the bargain I'd made with him...

never to see her again.

The other half of the bargain being your check

for $6,000 to take care of the bad check

he'd written in Las Vegas?

When you met him at Red's Reef,

did he tell you Harry Mardig had his bad check?

No...

but I don't understand what difference that would make.

He admitted in court he had it.

I'd hoped that David had told you

how Mardig found out about the check.

Well, there's one good thing about Susan's outburst:

it caused the Judge to recess,

and that gives us the weekend.

For what, Mr. Mason?

Oh, maybe a little gambling in Las Vegas.

19 is the number, red and odd pay off.

How do you like that? I'm out 20 bucks already.

Hello, Paul.

Mr. Mason, say, don't tell me you've run out of money?

That comes later.

Right now it's the check we talked about on the phone.

Young Cartwell?

Yeah, I read about him. It's too bad.

How did Harry Mardig learn about the check?

I have no idea.

He just walked in here one day, and offered me

50 cents on the dollar. I was glad to take it.

I've got enough bad checks around here to paper the place.

Was someone with him when he wrote the check?

Yeah, a dame.

One of these women, perhaps?

Yeah. This one.

Susan, in telling your story, you said you were pretty sure

that David had someone with him that night.

Now what made you say that?

Well...

the way he made me leave after I'd given him the pistol,

for one thing.

And there were two glasses there,

both half-filled and...

with ice still in them.

The fingerprints on both glasses were smeared.

They were of no use for purposes of identification.

Where were these glasses, Lieutenant?

Well, one was on a table...

And the other was overturned on a rug, was it not?

Yes.

Which one had traces of lipstick on it?

The one on the rug.

Did you attempt to match these traces

with the lipstick used by the defendant?

Yes.

- They did not match, did they? - No.

Did you attempt to match

the traces with another lipstick?

You can knock off the cat and mouse game, Mr. Mason.

It's my lipstick on the glass,

which I threw, whiskey, ice, and all,

right in David Cartwell's face.

We'd been... well, seeing each other weekends

for about a year.

Then he started going out with Susan.

So we had a showdown, and he promised to stop seeing her.

That was the night of his death?

No, about a month or so ago.

Then I heard about the trouble at Red's Reef.

It sounded as though David had had a part in it,

so we had another showdown. Only this time he lied,

he said he hadn't been with her that night.

And then you found out he'd lied?

Yes, so we had still another showdown.

Overheard by Harry Mardig?

Yes.

Now, in regard to your weekends...

one took place in Las Vegas, did it not?

When David wrote his bad check for $6,000?

I'll warn you, Miss Rice, I have a witness who can identify you

as having been with him.

All right... I was there.

And afterward you told Harry Mardig about the check?

No, I told Edgerton about it.

I didn't want to go to the Senator,

but I felt that somebody in the family ought to know

what kind of a mess David had gotten himself into.

And so the third showdown with David, Miss Rice,

ended up with your shooting him?

It ended up with my letting him have it with a highball glass.

And that wasn't so much on account of Susan

as it was a bon voyage present for his year in Europe.

- Year in Europe? - Yes.

He told me he was getting enough money from somewhere

to join the Riviera jet set.

Getting, or already had, Miss Rice?

Getting... later that night.

Not from me, Mr. Mason.

In fact, we had a bitter quarrel that day,

the upshot of which was that I disinherited him,

told him to clear out.

Edgerton,

the $20,000 estate check for emergency campaign expenses

you brought me that night,

and which I refused to countersign...

was that the money David was expecting?

You told Harry Mardig about David's bad check?

Yes.

Hoping to use it to force David's help

in getting Susan Foster in trouble,

and thus smearing Jason Foster?

It was Harry's idea.

But you went along with it?

You see, I have power of attorney

for the estate's land holdings, and...

it was through Alma Rice that I'd given Harry an option

on some property for the...

the new racetrack.

The property your brother has an interest in?

Yes.

But he is opposed to the racetrack, is he not?

Yes, but I thought that if I presented it as a...

fait accompli after the election,

he'd come around.

$1,400,000 in cash,

and a quarter interest in the track.

It was the deal of a lifetime.

But when David pieced things together,

he threatened to upset your golden applecart, didn't he?

David didn't know anything about that.

I believe he did.

And when your brother refused to sign the check

you said was for emergency campaign expenses,

money actually designed to buy David's silence

and send him to Europe

until the racetrack sale was a fait accompli...

when that happened there was only one way left

to keep him quiet... kill him.

No, no, I didn't kill him.

Harry Mardig did.

Or Alma, there.

Or Mrs. Foster. She...

Yes, of course.

Mrs. Foster.

The small car I saw parked by the gate house when I left.

But you testified, Mr. Cartwell,

that you saw no car when you left.

Oh, but I did, I remember now.

But it was Alma Rice's car, not Mrs. Foster's.

And the time was 11:20, not 11:30.

11:20 when Alma drove off,

leaving the way clear for you to...

enter the gate house and kill David.

Tell them, Randolph.

I was with you for more than a half hour that night.

With you from 11:00 to 11:30.

Tell them.

I might have gone along about the race track,

as you said, Edgerton, but this is murder.

Cold-blooded murder.

He was with me five minutes at the most, Mr. Mason.

Five minutes at the most.

Oh, Randolph.

It was a deal of a life...

11th Precinct: Cartwell... 1,323.

Foster, 1,764.

25th Precinct: Cartwell... 1,932.

Foster, 2,756.

Perry, there's one thing I don't get.

What, exactly, was Harry Mardig's pitch?

Well, through Susan...

he thought he could either force Jason Foster

to accept the race track,

or cause him to lose the election,

thus leaving Senator Cartwell

with Edgerton's fait accompli.

It's all over. You won.

I've just received a phone call from Senator Cartwell...

conceding defeat.

And I'd like to say this:

This victory is as much yours

as it is mine, and I won't forget it.

And there's somebody else I'd like to thank...

- Somebody... - You.

Good man's worth fighting for, Della.

Yeah.