All language subtitles for Perry Mason S08E12 The Case of the Wooden Nickels.DVDRip.NonHI.en.CBS

Not even one damsel in distress.

No, Perry, not even
a book salesman.

It's been more like a
morgue around here

than a law office all morning.

Paul?

No, he hasn't come in yet.

Mm-hmm.

Okay, I'll tell him.

'Bye.

Tell me what, Della?

I didn't hear you come in, Paul.

Perry wants you to know
that he's running a little late,

but the luncheon's still
on, if you don't mind waiting.

Don't mind at all.

Nothing like a nice, quiet,
comfortable morgue for waiting.

I don't know what
made me say that.

I hope it isn't a premonition
of trouble or something.

It's the holidays, beautiful.

Trouble's on vacation.

Yes, Gertie?

To speak to Paul? What about?

Send her in.

- Thank you.
- What's up?

Trouble, it sounds
like, back from vacation.

Mr. Drake?

Yes, and this is Miss Street.

How do you do?

I'm Miss Doubleday.

Minerva Doubleday,
and I'd like your help,

because I'm in trouble.

What kind of trouble,
Miss Doubleday?

It says, "The
emissary is to be at

the Southeast corner of Wilshire
and Lebanon at 10:55 tonight."

Emissary?

"He, or she, is to stand
under the corner street sign

"for exactly two minutes,

"and then is to proceed to the
public library, South entrance

at the dead end of Hope
Street, which will be closed."

The library, of
course, not the street.

Of course.

"At 11:13, the public
phone on the street

"by the entrance
steps will ring.

"The emissary is to answer,

using the code name
Jefferson Davis."

Jefferson Davis?

Yes.

"And then further
directions will be supplied."

Miss Doubleday, by any chance,

is this payment
some sort of ransom?

Oh, no.

Just the opposite.

The emissary is
to receive payment.

Oh.

And just where
do I come into this?

As the emissary, Mr. Drake.

My uncle, Mr. Homer
Doubleday, assigned me,

but a woman alone
at night could be a...

temptation to trickery.

Uh, why doesn't your uncle go?

He is a cripple, Miss Street,
confined to a wheelchair.

I'm sorry.

Would $300 be sufficient
for your services?

You're offering me $300

to start out at
Wilshire and Lebanon,

follow directions until payment
is made to me by someone.

That's right.

Who is this someone?

We don't know.

The letter is unsigned.

Well, what... what
is the payment for?

For this.

What is it, Paul?

It's a 50-cent piece.

A Confederate 50-cent
piece, Mr. Drake.

Confederate?

What's a thing like this worth?

$50,000.

Well, Miss Norman,
good afternoon.

Are you representing
yourself or your employer?

My employer, Mr. Doubleday,

with his final offer
for your half dollar.

I suggest you tell Mr. Hopkins

he's wasting his time
and yours and mine.

Now, he says he has plenty
of time and money to waste.

I'm well aware of that.

Then why not sell?

For years, Howard
Hopkins has been trying

to get that coin away from me.

Cajolery, flattery and
excessively high offers,

and then threats.

Threats to blacken my
name as a coin collector,

force me out of
business as a dealer.

Well, I told that pirate I
would never sell him the coin

no matter what
he did or offered.

He's willing to forget
your little differences,

Mr. Doubleday.

But I'm not.

Anyway, you may also tell him

arrangements have already
been completed to sell

the half dollar to someone else.

You can't mean that.

But I do, Miss Norman.
Now, good-bye.

To whom are you selling it?

I can't say.

And I suppose you
can't or won't say

how much you're getting for it?

Well, whatever you're getting,

Mr. Hopkins will pay
you ten percent more.

100% more, and I
still wouldn't sell to him.

Perhaps I should remind
you, Mr. Doubleday,

that along with time and money,

Mr. Hopkins also has power.

Am I to take that as still
another threat, Miss Norman?

You take it any way you like,

but I advise you to reconsider

before this little world
of nickels and dimes

comes crashing around your head.

Homer, I'm really surprised.

Surprised?

Secrets from your
very best friends.

Or was all that out there

about selling your
precious half dollar

to Mr. Howard
Hopkins just a come-on

to whet his appetite?

Well, was it?

No, it was not.

I am selling the half dollar,
and not to Mr. Hopkins.

No matter how many other
people tell me otherwise.

It happens that I
am not other people,

so you better listen carefully.

You are selling it to him.

Never.

Homer.

Tell me...

how many duplicates
of rare coins

have you stamped out for
me in the last, um... year or so?

Five.

Mm-hmm.

A gold Fugio cent,

an undated J. Conway
five-dollar gold piece,

a Baldwin & Company
ten-dollar Gold Horseman,

an 1884 Trade dollar
with chop marks,

and, um... what was the other?

A 1776 Continental
silver dollar.

All so perfect

that only an expert with
access to a laboratory

could tell them from
the originals, huh?

It's a federal offense,
Homer, counterfeiting money.

How many years do you
think you'd spend in prison

if I were to tell the buyers
of the coins they were fakes?

But you... you never told me

you were selling
them as originals.

Now, who would believe that?

No, Homer.

I'm afraid you're
caught squarely between

the devil and the deep blue sea.

Two options:

play ball with me and
sell the coin to Hopkins

or jail.

Now, get in touch with Howard

and tell him you've
changed your mind.

And do it today!

Uncle Homer?

It's George, Minerva.

George Parsons.

Funny you'd forget after all
we've been through together.

I told you to stay away from me.

But you didn't say
anything about Uncle Homer.

Yes, I did, and you know it.

All right.

I'll leave quietly.

Bye, Homer.

And don't forget.

Don't forget what?

Nothing concerning you, Minerva.

You gave the letter

and the half dollar
to a private detective?

Yes, a man named Paul Drake.

I checked on him,
and he's experienced

and completely trustworthy.

Uh, and he's agreed to
handle the entire transaction?

Yes. Tonight, he'll start

at the corner of Wilshire
and Lebanon at 10:55,

just as the letter said,

and follow through
until the money's paid.

He'll bring it to us tomorrow.

It's far safer this
way, Uncle Homer.

But if you want, I can go back

and tell him I've
decided to do it myself.

Was there someone out
there when you came in?

I'll go see.

Somebody wanted
some cigarettes here?

Oh, yes, please... A
package of those king-size...

Oh.

Oh, looks like I've run out.

- I'll be back in a minute.
- Thanks.

Well, what do you think, Perry?

An unsigned letter,

an odd coin neither of
us ever knew existed,

two-minute wait
under a street sign,

phone ringing in a certain
downtown phone booth.

Sounds like a spy melodrama.

I suggest you
spend the afternoon

shopping for a trench coat.

Think I'm sticking my neck out?

I honestly don't know.

It's just bizarre
enough to be legitimate.

And after all,
sticking your neck out

is your business,
isn't it, Paul?

Hi.

Ah, I'm glad you didn't wait.

And I'm also glad you
left something for me.

I'm starving.

Perhaps Operative
Naught-Naught-Seven

can report as she
eats her lunch.

Only she seems to have
forgotten her trench coat.

Trench coat and operative, hmm?

You mean the detective
work I've been doing?

You went to the coin shop?

Mm-hmm, and Mr. Doubleday
is on the up-and-up.

According to the man
next door, he's been in

that place of business
for over 30 years.

I, uh... I didn't go in

because I was afraid
Minerva might be there, but...

Oh, I did buy something
at another coin store.

Uh, what is it?

The American Numismatic guide.

Look on page 166...
I have it marked.

Well, what do you know?

Confederate half dollar.

"Due to a shortage
of silver bullion,

"only four originals
were struck in 1861

"at the New Orleans mint,

"making it one of the
rarest of American coins.

"Coins were made on a hand press

using United States
silver half dollar planchets."

- Your cigarettes, sir.
- Thanks.

"One was presented
to Jefferson Davis,

"another to Professor Biddle
of the University of Louisiana.

"A third was kept by
Chief Coiner B.F. Taylor,

"and the fourth was
eventually acquired

by a Dr. H. Doubleday
of New Orleans."

Homer Doubleday's grandfather?

Could very well be, Della.

So, this cloak-and-dagger
stuff could be on the level.

Does it say how much
the coins are worth?

No, it merely says
"extremely rare."

But if it's one of
the original four,

I'd say it also means
"extremely valuable."

How can I find
out if it is or not?

I believe I know
someone who can tell you.

I sure would like to know.

Uh, after Della finishes,

could we take the
coin around to...

What's wrong?

- It's gone.
- Well, it couldn't be.

It was just there a minute ago.

It sure isn't now.

Oh, boy, am I in the soup.

$50,000 worth.

What kind of a gag are
you trying to pull, mister?

Huh? Gag?

Palming off a phony
Confederate coin on me.

Your idea of a
joke or something?

What luck did Miss Norman
have today, Mr. Hopkins?

None.

Doubleday persists in
his refusal to deal with me,

which is all to the good for us.

What do you imagine he'll do

when he finds you've
out-thought him?

Wyler, this coin collection,

second to none in the world,

is the direct result of
my out-thinking people,

and what have they done?

I hope you are not entertaining

any devious ideas.

No, Mr. Hopkins,

you know me better than that.

Mr. Mason is here.

Have him come in.

I hope you're not developing
a case of cold feet?

Oh, no, Mr. Hopkins.

I can handle it.

I hope so.

The half dollar is the
last major American coin

outside my collection.

I must have it, Wyler.

If necessary, I
would kill to get it.

Yes, sir.

Well, it's been a
long time, Perry.

I hope you're not representing
someone with a lawsuit?

No, this is a social
call, Mr. Hopkins,

if coin collecting
is a social activity.

Well, sit down, sit down.

So, you've taken up the hobby.

Well, in a way.

I'd like some information
about rare coins.

You've come to the proper place.

Here.

One of the very rarest.

A liberty nickel?

A 1913 liberty Nickel.

One of the original five
owned by Colonel Green,

son of the famous Hetty Green.

I paid $22,000 for that in 1952.

That's a little
rich for my blood.

Yeah?

Well, perhaps these
are more in your line.

What are those?

Wooden nickels.

Tokens, advertising pieces.

They're worth a dime
a dozen most of them,

but some of them are
worth more to a collector.

This one, for instance,

used by the miners
in Sutter's Mill in 1849.

And this one,

issued in Vicksburg
during Grant's siege.

They would, perhaps,
bring $1,000 apiece now.

What would an 1861
Confederate half dollar bring?

Why do you ask that?

Where did you get this?

From a client who'd like
to know if it's genuine.

And the client's name?

I'm not free to say.

$50,000 and no questions asked.

Then it is genuine?

$60,000.

And another ten to you.

I'm sorry, but it's
not mine to sell.

Mason, do you realize
with a flick of my finger,

I could ruin both
you and your client?

For your sake, I hope you
don't flick that finger, Mr. Hopkins.

You'll find neither my client

nor I ruin easily.

Thanks for the information.

Miss Norman? Miss Norman!

Yes, Mr. Hopkins?

Have Clarence drive you,

and find out who
Mason's meeting.

He has my
Confederate half dollar.

Perry, Della.

I was afraid I'd have to
leave before you two got back.

It's only 9:30.

You've over an hour to
get to Wilshire and Lebanon.

What did Mr. Doubleday say

when you told him about
Howard Hopkins' offer?

He refused to discuss it; in
fact, he seemed quite put out

that Hopkins had even
been shown the half dollar.

I don't understand.

Neither do I, Della,

but possibly after Paul
delivers the half dollar

and receives the
money... Oh, no.

Perry.

Why in the world?

Got a spare match, fella?

A match?

Sure.

Keep them.

I've got more.

Thanks.

That, uh...

half-buck that
you were flipping,

you wouldn't want to donate it

towards a cup of coffee
and a sandwich, would you?

Here's a buck.

Get two sandwiches.

Thanks, fella.

Thanks.

Yes?

This is Jefferson Davis.

Now drive to the
Wilshire-Palace Hotel.

Make sure you're not followed.

Then go inside,

ask the desk clerk
for an envelope

addressed to J. Davis.

Inside there'll be
further directions.

All clear?

Now, get going, fast.

So far, so good.

He looked like
an awfully big man

under that street light.

Are you sure you can
handle him, George?

This can, baby.

This can.

Wilshire-Palace, desk?

Yes, madam.

Oh, yes, madam,
it'll be ready for you.

Thank you.

You have an envelope
for me, J. Davis.

J. Davis, just a moment.

Yes, here, Mr. Davis.

- Thank you.
- Right.

It's getting more
curious, Della.

Stay where you
are, or I'll shoot.

You don't want to
shoot me, Minerva.

I'm working for you, remember?

Wouldn't it be better

if you pointed that
thing somewhere else?

Please, no closer.

I meant what I said.

All right, Minerva, no closer,

but first let's get
rid of the artillery.

Now, who is he?

George Parsons.

I loved him, Mr. Drake.

I loved him.

Loved him.

Easy, Minerva, easy.

Whatever happened,
I'm here to help.

Strange,

but there doesn't seem to be
anything missing, Lieutenant.

Hmm.

Well then, maybe all
Parsons, or whoever shot him,

wanted was this half dollar
Drake has been telling us about.

Yes, that could be.

Only it was in Drake's
pocket, instead of in the safe.

Mr. Doubleday,

are you positive you
went home at 7:00?

I told you I did.

And never left until Sergeant
Brice came to pick you up

- a few minutes ago?
- No.

What time did your niece
leave the apartment?

I don't know.

I went to bed after
she served dinner.

I didn't hear her go out.

And you still maintain

you've never seen this before?

Never.

All right, Mr. Doubleday.

Would you, um, wait in
the other room, please?

What makes you so sure
the girl didn't kill Parsons?

If she had, I would have
heard the shot in the alley.

Not if your engine was running,

not if she'd spent some time

searching the body
after she'd fired the shot.

Lieutenant Anderson.

Oh?

That was a very
bright idea of yours.

Who said she was
searching the body?

She did.

Said she was checking to see

if Parsons had gotten hold
of the Confederate half dollar.

- But she knew I had it.
- So, she was lying,

just as I think she was
lying about passing the shop,

seeing a light in the back,

investigating and
finding Parsons dead.

Now, uh, what was
she really doing here?

I don't know.

Well, what did she tell you,
say to you when you found her?

Now look, Drake, this is murder.

And your story's already
wild enough as it is

without complicating it by
trying to cover for the girl

and just possibly getting
yourself thrown into jail.

All right, maybe this'll help
you make up your mind.

The phone call I just
got, it was about the pistol.

No current permit,

but according to the
firearms registry records,

that gun was
originally sold in 1952

to a Mr. Homer
Doubleday of this address.

They seem like such
babes-in-the-woods,

Minerva and her uncle.

I suppose one of them
must have done it, though,

being the pistol was theirs.

Pistols have been
borrowed before, Della.

You think they're
innocent, then?

I'd like to think so,

though I must
admit Minerva's story

of investigating
a light in the shop

- is a bit hard to swallow.
- As is Mr. Doubleday's

claiming he's never
seen the pistol before.

Has Paul found out anything
more about George Parsons?

Only that he seems to
have been a rare-coin dealer

with his office in his hat.

What about him and Minerva?

One of Paul's men
is working on that.

You know, perhaps I
shouldn't have let Paul

tell Lieutenant
Anderson what she said,

standing over the body,

but you have to protect his
private investigator's license.

If she did have a
relationship with Parsons,

it's bound to come
out eventually.

Yes, Gertie?

Just a minute.

A Vivian Norman,

who says Howard
Hopkins sent her here.

Have her come in.

Have her come in, Gertie.

Come in, please.

Thank you.

Miss Norman. My
secretary, Miss Street.

- Won't you sit down?
- Thank you.

Um... Mr. Hopkins has been told

that you are representing
the Doubleday family.

Yes, I am.

He would like you to
convey his sympathy

over last night's...
unfortunate events.

And he would also like you to...

pound the
nonsense, as he put it,

out of Mr. Doubleday's head.

Nonsense?

Letting a conflict
of personalities

stand in the way of
accepting $50,000

for his half dollar.

I'd hardly call threats

to blacken
Mr. Doubleday's reputation

and put him out of business

a "conflict of
personalities," Miss Norman.

And the offer
yesterday was $60,000.

Well, I was told to
offer $50,000 first.

Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean

to interrupt... I'll
come back later.

No, no, you may stay, Paul.

Miss Norman is
just making an offer

on behalf of Howard
Hopkins for the half dollar.

$60,000, then, Mr. Mason.

A sum Mr. Hopkins
feels will more than cover

your fee for defending
Minerva Doubleday.

There have been no
charges against her.

I'm afraid that's
merely a matter of time.

You see, the man
who was... murdered,

uh, George Parsons...

telephoned Mr. Hopkins
late yesterday afternoon

and offered to sell
him the half dollar.

How does that concern
Minerva Doubleday?

Mr. Parsons told Mr. Hopkins

that he was getting
the half dollar from her...

later that evening
in her uncle's shop.

Now, Mr. Hopkins feels that
he must inform the police...

but he also feels a
resulting obligation

to make sure that money is
available for Minerva's defense.

As well as to make sure
he acquires the half dollar.

That could be.

Well, I'll, uh, relay
the offer, Miss Norman.

Thank you.

Well, that sure puts a
hole in Minerva's story

about just happening
to pass the shop.

It would seem so, Paul. What
about the Wilshire Palace?

Well, I talked to the desk
clerk... his name's Erik Sommers.

He remembers me, J.
Davis, and he also remembers

the person who gave
him the envelope.

- George Parsons?
- No.

A mousy young lady
with horn-rimmed glasses

- and no makeup.
- Minerva Doubleday?

As Perry says, Della,
it would seem so.

This is the apartment.

Signed the lease

Gerald Parker, but
from your description,

I'm sure it was the
George Parsons that you...

Heavens to Betsy, look at this!

Somebody got here first.

I didn't give a key to nobody,
and that's the gospel truth.

Must have come and
gone by that service door.

It's unlocked.

Well, whoever it
was, Lieutenant,

he left something
kind of interesting.

Handful of pretty
hot love letters

addressed to George
and signed Minerva.

Yes, your conclusion
about the item

in the coin manual was correct.

Mr. Mason... the fourth
Confederate half dollar

was acquired by my
grandfather, in New Orleans.

It has been with
the family ever since.

- Do you have it here now?
- No, no,

the police still have it.

Well, it should
be safe with them.

Mr. Doubleday...

tell me, what made you decide

to sell to the anonymous
writer of the letter

rather than on the open market?

Ownership of such
a celebrated coin

gives me a certain
cachet as a dealer.

The letter being anonymous

suggested that the sale
might not be publicized.

But what convinced
you it wasn't a plot

to steal the half dollar?

These convinced me, Mr. Mason.

They came with the letter.

And I knew at once

a real collector was involved,
even though I had no idea

who it was.

These are just wooden nickels.

Not quite.

Three extremely rare nickels,

each worth in the neighborhood
of a thousand dollars.

That's very interesting.

Of course, what also helped
to convince me was that...

I needed the money...

desperately, and at once.

Do you mind telling me why?

George Parsons.

Blackmail?

Yes. As a direct result
of my own cupidity.

You see, for many years
I've been making replicas

of rare coins to sell
to colleges, museums,

and... other dealers
for display purposes.

Could these pass as originals?

Oh, yes.

Even with experts...

if it weren't for a...
private way I identify them.

What is that?

Oh, I alter their
center of gravity

by weighting them a bit more
on one side than the other

so they won't stand
on their edges...

as will mint coins.

And then, enter the devil.

Parsons persuaded you not
to alter the center of gravity?

No, no. Not that.

He began by winning
our confidence.

Or more especially, Minerva's.

So... when he told me he knew
of a wealthy Eastern collector

willing to pay far more than I
had been getting for replicas

of certain extremely
rare coins he possessed...

I allowed myself to believe him.

What was this Eastern collector

supposed to be doing
with the replicas?

Displaying them as originals,

while the genuine originals
were safe in a vault.

How many coins did you copy?

Five... over a period of
a little more than a year.

Among them a 1776
Continental silver dollar...

and a gold Fugio cent.

Why did you single out
those particular coins?

Because when I read the
South Salem Historical Society

had purchased a gold
Fugio cent for $11,000.

And the Sibley
Museum in Boston, a...

a 1776 Continental
silver dollar for $22,000,

I realized what
Parsons was doing.

Selling your
replicas as originals.

When I accused
him... he admitted it.

And then he told me I
was in it as deep as he was.

That's when I realized

I had to sell the
Confederate half dollar.

I don't quite understand.

Approximately $73,000

was paid for the five coins.

With my savings...

and the money from
the sale of the half dollar,

I thought I could go
to the purchasers,

refund them their money.

Seems a high price to
pay for an honest mistake.

Oh, but it wasn't an
honest mistake, Mr. Mason.

In my heart, I... knew
something was wrong.

Excuse me, Perry, but,
uh, one of Paul's men called

just as I was leaving
the office to come here.

Minerva's been arrested,
taken to headquarters,

and charged with
first-degree murder.

Would you drive me to police
headquarters, Mr. Mason?

You're going there won't
help Minerva, Mr. Doubleday.

I think it will.

You see... I killed
George Parsons.

But I didn't leave the envelope
at the hotel for Mr. Drake,

no matter what
that desk clerk says!

And I didn't have an
appointment with George Parsons

at the shop that night, no
matter what Mr. Hopkins says.

And you didn't kill Parsons?

I did have a violent
quarrel with him,

when I found out what he
was doing to Uncle Homer.

I told him I never
wanted to see him again.

But I didn't kill him.

You have to believe that.

I do, Minerva.

But you must explain something.

Why were you searching the body?

I was looking
for the half dollar.

Paul Drake had the
coin; you knew that.

No, Mr. Mason, it was a replica

of the half dollar I
gave him in your office.

A replica?

Uncle Homer and I thought,

in view of the
strangeness of the letter...

not to risk the original.

Why didn't you tell Mr. Drake?

We planned to tell him when he

- brought us the money.
- After the sale?

Well, of course, we also planned

to give him the real half dollar

so he could take
it back to the buyer

and exchange it for the replica.

And we thought you two
were babes in the woods.

The original was
left in the safe?

So when I found George
dead and the safe open

and the original gone...

I had to make sure
he didn't have it.

Why didn't you report
the loss to the police?

Uncle Homer
thought if he kept quiet

the thief might contact him,

arrange it so the coin
could be sold legitimately.

That way he could
salvage something.

What...

will they do to him for
saying he killed George?

Nothing.

The police are accustomed
to false confessions.

If it were false.

I'm sorry, Mr. Mason,
it's time now.

And the state will
show through letters

written by the defendant,
Minerva Doubleday,

to the deceased, George Parsons,

and through testimony
concerning a statement

that she made while she was
standing over his dead body,

that she was totally,
blindly infatuated with him.

We will show that Minerva
Doubleday helped George Parsons

plan a midnight rendezvous

for the clandestine
delivery of a rare coin

worth in excess of $50,000.

And we will show that
when she discovered

that her messenger was
not to be recompensed

for this coin... Her
own uncle's coin...

But was instead to be
knocked on the head

and robbed of that
coin, she realized

that she had been used as
a dupe by George Parsons.

And in her humiliation and fury,

she shot and killed
her erstwhile lover.

Now, Lieutenant, let me
show you this expended bullet,

which the coroner's
physician testified

he took from the
deceased's body.

Were you able to determine
what weapon fired that bullet?

Yes, sir, I determined
through ballistics tests

that it had been
fired from the pistol

I've already identified
as having been

given to me that
night by Paul Drake.

The one he told you he
took from the defendant,

- Minerva Doubleday?
- Yes, sir.

The one that was purchased
in 1952 by Homer Doubleday?

- Yes, sir.
- Thank you.

- Mr. Mason?
- No questions.

And did you then
follow the directions

in the envelope you
picked up at that hotel?

Yes. I drove into the
alley behind the coin shop

and went in the back door.

And what or whom did you find?

The deceased and Miss Doubleday.

To whom you should
be very grateful,

incidentally, Mr. Drake...
Because from the blackjack

found on the body
of the deceased,

apparently he had
unpleasant plans for you.

Your Honor, the prosecutor
is making gratuitous asides.

You're quite right, Mr. Mason.

Strike that last
from the record.

Hereafter, Mr. Burger,
confine yourself

to a proper type of examination.

Mr. Drake, when you
went into that shop,

exactly what was
the defendant doing?

Bending over the body.

Was she by any chance
holding something?

A pistol.

And would you tell us, please,
what you did at that point?

I took the pistol from her,

then I asked her who
the deceased was.

She said George Parsons.

Did she say anything
else at that moment?

Oh, come on, Mr. Drake, you
know you have to answer that.

She said... "I loved
him, loved him,

loved him."

Mr. Mason?

To retrace your movements

before you arrived
at the coin shop...

What time was it when
you reached the phone booth

- near the public library?
- Eight minutes past 11:00.

I checked my
watch as I drove up.

Now, what were
your exact instructions

as outlined in the letter
sent to Homer Doubleday

and later given to you
by Miss Doubleday?

"Proceed to the public
library, south entrance,

"at the dead end of Hope
Street, which will be closed.

"At 11:13, the public
phone on the street

"by the entrance
steps will ring.

"Answer using the
name Jefferson Davis,

and further instructions
will be supplied."

11:13.

You testified, I
believe, that the phone

was already ringing
when you arrived there

- at 11:08.
- That's right.

And it could have been
ringing, as far as you know,

for a considerable
period of time before that?

Yes, it could.

She's a mousy type, I'd say.

Plain dress,
practically no makeup,

horn-rimmed glasses.

Nothing anybody would
whistle at, but I remember her.

And why do you suppose
you remember her?

Well, along with that
envelope marked "J. Davis,"

she gave me a ten-dollar bill

to make sure it
didn't get mislaid.

I see.

Would you look around
this courtroom, Mr. Sommers,

and tell us if you can
identify the woman

who gave you the envelope
and the ten-dollar bill?

That's her over there.

Miss Doubleday, the defendant.

And, Mr. Hopkins, are you
sure there's no possibility

of your being mistaken
that George Parsons

told you over the
telephone that night

that he was meeting
Minerva Doubleday

later that night in
her uncle's shop?

I'm afraid not, because
he went on to say

she was going to give him
the Confederate half dollar then

so he could sell it to me.

Did you accept this arrangement?

With reservations, yes.

Oh, I thought it odd,

this method of
selling the half dollar,

but I knew, if
he arrived with it,

I could telephone
Homer Doubleday

and find out if he had
authorized Parsons to sell it.

And what if he hadn't?

Naturally, I'd call the police.

Naturally.

Mr. Hopkins, is this

the valuable half
dollar in question?

Yes, it is.

Your Honor, this
is the half dollar

identified by Paul Drake

as the one given
him by the defendant.

At this point, I should
like it entered in evidence.

Very well, Mr. Burger.

Mark it people's exhibit five.

Mr. Hopkins, how much would you

be willing to pay
for that half dollar?

I'd already offered $60,000.

That's well worth committing
murder for, isn't it, Mr. Mason?

Oh, excuse me.

I withdraw the gratuitous aside.

Mr. Hopkins, I'd like
to show you something.

Do you recognize them?

Wooden nickels.

Your wooden nickels,

Mr. Hopkins, because
it was you who wrote

the anonymous letter to
Homer Doubleday, wasn't it?

You who devised a scheme
to acquire the half dollar

without letting him
know you were the buyer.

But something
went wrong, didn't it?

George Parsons
moved in on your plan.

Hijacked it, so to speak,

by placing his call
first at the library.

So then you had to kill him.

No, I didn't kill him.

I never left the
house that night.

I didn't even know the
scheme hadn't worked until...

Until... Tell him, Wyler.

Go on, tell him.

Oh, Mr. Hopkins wrote
the letter to Mr. Doubleday,

and then, afterwards, got you to
pose as the anonymous buyer?

Yes, uh, because he knew

that Doubleday
wouldn't sell to him.

I see.

All right, would you tell us

what you did that
night, Mr. Wyler?

Well, I-I watched
from across the street

until Mr. Drake left

Wilshire and Lebanon
for the public library.

And then I-I went to a
nearby telephone booth.

And what were you
supposed to tell Mr. Drake?

I was supposed to tell him
to come to my apartment,

because that's
where the money was.

I began dialing a
little before 11:13.

Twice, I got a busy signal.

The third time, the phone
rang, but no one answered.

So I went to the library myself.

I waited around there
for about, oh, half an hour,

then I went to my
apartment and got the money

and took it back to Mr. Hopkins.

It appears there
was a hijacking,

as you put it, Mr. Mason.

Would you care to
ask any questions?

Oh, one or two.

Mr. Wyler, what
time did you reach

Mr. Hopkins' house that night?

Around 12:30.

Did you, by chance, stop

at Homer Doubleday's
coin shop on the way?

No.

Though I can't prove it.

With the court's
permission, I'd like you

to step over here
to the exhibit table.

Very well.

Now, you've testified

that you're an
expert on rare coins.

Would you have been
able to distinguish this coin

from a carefully made replica
had Mr. Drake delivered it?

Well, if you're thinking

of a Homer Doubleday
replica, quite easily.

See, he always makes
his coins off balance

so they won't stand on edge.

And this coin will?

Oh, of course.

You see?

But that's impossible.

That's the replica
given Mr. Drake.

And it can't stand
on edge... It can't!

Hi, Perry.

You'll be happy to know

that your rogues'
gallery long shot paid off.

You identified the panhandler
you saw at Wilshire and Lebanon?

His name's Gerald Kelso,

and he's served several
stretches in prison.

For safecracking?

How'd you know that?

That's part of the long shot.

You assigned a man to Kelso?

- Mm-hmm.
- Good.

The Baldwin & Company
ten-dollar Gold Horseman.

And we purchased that
for $13,000 last April.

From a man named
George Parsons, I believe.

Yes, after he'd furnished
us with an affidavit

from an apparently reputable
widow in Sacramento

stating it had been in her
family for three generations.

You have some doubts
as to its authenticity?

I'm sorry to say so, yes.

I have reason to
believe it's a replica

of the original made
by Homer Doubleday.

We've had numerous
dealings with Mr. Doubleday.

Perhaps you don't know it,
but his replicas are always made

with the center of
gravity off just enough

to prevent their
standing on edge.

And this coin will
stand on edge?

But Doubleday
said... I know, Paul.

But he was wrong,
which is going to surprise

a number of people,
including the murderer.

I don't know what
all this is about,

but here are the
five coins you listed.

So, what about them?

Mr. Wyler?

Well, let's try the
Continental silver dollar.

It won't stand on edge?

I think you'll find that none
of the five will stand on edge.

What is this?

What happened to my originals?

One by one, Mr. Hopkins,

they have been
replaced by replicas

and sold to various
collectors and museums.

You.

You're the only one who
had access to my collection.

You'll go to prison for this.

She's the one
that killed Parsons?

Did you, Miss Norman?

Perhaps for the money you
were keeping in your apartment?

The 70-odd thousand dollars

you and he received
for the five coins?

All right.

I did exchange the coins

after George had Mr. Doubleday
make copies of them,

but I didn't kill him.

We... were to be married.

And as a dutiful
wife-to-be, you told Parsons

about Mr. Hopkins'
anonymous letter?

Yes.

And wearing horn-rimmed
glasses and no makeup

to resemble Minerva Doubleday,

you left the envelope
at the Wilshire-Palace

as, uh, your contribution
to the hijacking scheme.

Then you must have
been the other person

at the coin shop, Miss Norman,

because you were the only one

who knew in advance
Parsons would be there.

But... why doesn't somebody
ask him where he was?

He lied in court, saying
that he was at home.

I saw him come in a
little bit after midnight,

- and then the lights went on...
- She's lying.

Is she, Mr. Hopkins?

Or did George
Parsons surprise you

in the act of robbing
Homer Doubleday's safe?

How could I possibly open a safe

the combination of which
I had no way of knowing?

Paul.

Yeah, that's him.

The guy I told you
about. He hired me.

But I ain't taking no
murder rap for you, pal,

especially for no
crummy 500 bucks.

Who is this man?

I believe you know
only too well, Mr. Wyler.

Why did he pay you $500, Kelso?

Well, mainly, it was for

a little finger job
at the coin shop.

He wanted me to find out for him

the, uh, combination
of the safe.

And one other thing
was to search my office?

And another was to go
to Wilshire and Lebanon.

Oh, I had nothing
to do with that, no.

I saw him there, yes.

Kelso?

Mr. Hopkins asked
me to go there to see

if the half-dollar scheme
was starting out okay.

And when you saw that it was?

I phoned him,
like he told me to.

And it was that call

which started you on
your way to the coin shop

armed with the combination
Wyler had given to you.

They're lying, both of
them, to save their skins.

Besides, why would
I go to the coin shop

when I knew that the
emissary, whoever it was,

had the original half dollar?

But you didn't.

You knew the original
was in the safe,

and you knew that Homer
Doubleday would never risk

his most prized possession
on the anonymous

cloak-and-dagger
proposal you sent him.

But Drake had the
original half dollar.

That was proven in court.

Yes, after you'd
substituted it for the replica

which you were presumably
examining on the stand.

Daring bit of sleight
of hand, Mr. Hopkins,

but that's what gave you away.

I would have paid
him the $100,000

in return for letting
me keep the half dollar.

But when I found out
what he and Vivian

had done with
these coins, when...

when he laughed and
said there was no way

I could get them back
without going to jail

for robbing Homer
Doubleday, I...

I took the pistol
that was in the safe...

and I shot him.

Apparently, whenever
Hopkins left town,

Miss Norman would take one

of his rare coins and
give it to Parsons,

who would then have
your uncle make a replica.

And then they'd
put the replica back

and sell the original?

That's what they hoped to do

with the Confederate half
dollar after they had somehow

forced your uncle to
sell it to Mr. Hopkins.

Pretty ingenious setup.

But what about this, uh,

sleight of hand
business in court?

Hopkins knew he would be safer

if he destroyed the
evidence of his theft,

but he couldn't bear to part
with the Confederate half dollar

he had been after
for so many years.

So he substituted
it for the replica,

which he later destroyed.

It's a good thing you saw him

switching the coins
on the witness stand.

Oh, but I didn't, Della.

You see, aside from Paul,
the police and Hamilton Burger,

Hopkins was the only
person who touched that coin

before Wyler proved
it to be genuine.

So the guilty man either
had to be Hopkins or Burger.

I don't know how to
express my gratitude

for all you've done,
so I'll just say...

thank you.

You're welcome, Minerva.

Perry, did Kelso ever explain

why he searched George
Parsons' apartment?

Well, yes.

When he read of Parsons' death,

he knew Hopkins was
involved in some way,

which meant the
possibility of big money.

Well, only the apartment

he should have searched
was Vivian Norman's.

But he had no way
of knowing that.

Paul, what in the
world are you doing?

Conducting my daily search.

Daily search?

To make sure that
nobody's given me any, uh...

wooden nickels.