All language subtitles for Perry Mason S08E02 The Case of the Paper Bullets.DVDRip.NonHI.en.CBS

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.