Original subtitles

With the most on show I used to be ignored

I'm sorry.

Excuse me.

Good evening, Pop.

You're early.

Well, you know what they say.

That's the way to catch the worm. Well, your bird's late.

They took an encore on the fan dance.

I didn't know you read this, Pop.

That's not for people who can read.

Don't you like it? What? At my age?

Look, son.

I like Brazil nuts, but I got false teeth.

Oh, I think I'll go and see the end of the show.

She's the showgirl with the most on show.

And how the others hate me so.

But let her be realistic.

My act is so artistic.

She's the showgirl with the most on show.

Yeah, they shouldn't allow encores, you know.

It does seem rather pointless in this kind of show.

I mean, once you've seen it, you've seen it.

Oh, that lot out there will strain their eyes out any time.

If they were here every night like you, they'd soon get pretty bored, I should

think.

Well, every job gets to the nutters after a bit, you know. You've just got

to put up with it.

Come towards me.

Oh, Miss Stark, there's a message for you at the stage door. Oh, thanks,

Paddy.

Come.

Is that you, Johnny?

Yes.

Oh, hand me that slip on the chair over there, will you, love?

That's my place for a meal tonight.

That's very nice of you.

Won't you be too tired? No, it's all right.

My girlfriend's just come back from a tour which folded. She's cooking

tonight.

Let me take you both out.

Johnny, is this reporting business on the level?

Of course.

Two dinner dates and an invitation to a third in three days is pretty heavy

going for a journalist.

Well, how long you save me at it?

Uh, three weeks.

And this day in the life of a showgirl article, when's your deadline?

Well, I've missed this month's issue, but... But next month's will do as well,

huh? Yeah.

Your editor seems pretty easygoing.

What's he pay you?

Nothing. I mean, I don't get a salary.

With WoW's circulation, I should have thought they could afford to pay even

their junior staff some salary.

You've got the wrong end of the stick. Yes, you bet I have.

Must be slipping and falling for that helpless, struggling journalist to write

his first feature article routine.

But I really am new to journalism.

Dinner at the... dancing at the Stork on no salary.

The reason I don't get a salary is... Is that you don't need one.

Yes, that I can believe.

But just being loaded doesn't get you past the stage doorkeeper.

They're very strict with stage door johnnies in this theatre.

Anyway, full marks for trying.

I almost fell myself for that clear-eyed, clean-living beginner's

technique.

Show yourself out.

Well, what have you been up to after only three days, too?

Nothing, just a misunderstanding.

Couldn't you get her on the front cover a while like you said you could?

She thinks I don't have anything to do with the damn paper. Well, have you?

Of course I have.

I own it.

Miss Stark is expecting me, I think.

Mr. Spendoza.

Oh, yes, dressing room number three, just down the way.

Thank you.

Who is it?

Come right in.

I'm nearly ready.

You got the right costume?

It's right here.

Well, there is a bit.

Well, that's what people want nowadays.

Good.

I don't want to rush you, but the photographer, a very expensive young

man, by the way, is meeting us at the park gates at one o'clock, and he's

already complained about the time.

Well, I'm not exactly used to doing pin-ups in the early hours, either.

Oh, no one is.

That's the gimmick, as our press friends would say.

But I'm quite sure a picture of Miss Stark, star of the new television series

Pin-Up, bathing by moonlight in the serpentine, will make every front page

in the country.

Are you going to announce the series?

I see no reason why not. I heard from the States this morning. They gave me

the go-ahead to make three pilot films. I sent a draft contract to your agent

this afternoon.

Well, for news like this, I should worry about missing my beauty sleep.

You won't miss much. I had to promise the authorities we'd be out of the park

by two o'clock at the latest.

Anyway, I shall need you tomorrow for some studio photographs.

My associates want as much publicity material as possible as soon as they can

get it. So I'm afraid it's another call.

At ten o'clock.

Ten o'clock? I shall be dead.

Paddington, information, please.

Devon, could you give me the time of the next good train to Torquay, please?

Been dead about six hours, I should say. That'll make it about half past one last

night. There are some bruises on the neck and on the arms. You think she died

here, Doc?

Well, it's difficult to say. There are some slight abrasions which suggest she

might have been dragged some distance.

Cause of the death?

Overdose of drugs.

Do you mind if I have a look? No, help yourself.

Morphine. It's obviously an overdose of this. Yes, it's obvious, all right.

Do you know who she is?

Nope. She's an actress or a model of some sort.

How can you tell?

Her legs and arms smothered with wet white.

You know, this is a funny place to commit suicide.

Doc, if you were to do yourself in at one o'clock in the morning, would you

put on a bikini?

Oh, well, John, the reason I don't... get a salary is simply because I own the

joint.

It's a long story. I just had it left to me by an uncle.

Yeah.

Now I'm stuck with it.

Well, see you around.

Good morning, sir. Detective Inspector Burner of Scotland Yard. This is

Sergeant Katz.

Are you Mr. John Mason?

Yes. Come in.

Oh, sorry to trouble you, sir, but I'm just making inquiries about a young

woman connected with the theatre, which I think you know, called the Casbah.

Oh, I know it. Yes, what's the young woman's name? Stark.

Gloria Stark.

Oh, I'm afraid I can't help you there. I haven't met her, but... Yes, we know

that, sir.

As a matter of fact, you were one of the last to do so.

That's why I'm here.

You won't be seeing her again, I'm afraid, sir.

She's dead.

How terrible.

When would you say you did last speak to her, sir?

Shortly after midnight at the theatre.

We only exchanged a few words and then I left. Where did you go?

Home. Here.

Did you go straight home? Yes.

Nobody saw you coming, I suppose, then?

Well, no, we don't have a caretaker or anybody in these buildings.

I guess everybody else had gone to bed by then. So I'm the first person you've

spoken to since you were with Miss Stark last night?

Yes. No telephone calls?

No. And who were you talking to when I rang the bell just now?

Talking? Oh, yes, so I was.

Well, really, I wasn't actually talking to anybody.

Not really, that is.

You see, the reason I came straight back from the theater last night was because,

well, I didn't have anywhere to go.

Actually, I did have somewhere to go, but Miss Rawson didn't.

She didn't want to.

Although I can now see where the misunderstanding arose.

I was trying to tell her that, not last night because she wouldn't listen, but

this morning. Oh, I see. Then it was Miss Rawson you were talking to.

Well, no, but if I had been talking to her, that is exactly what I would have

said to her.

Oh, I think I see what you mean, sir.

Anyway, the point is that you did come straight back here last night.

I'm afraid you'll still have to take my word for it, Inspector.

Rather than risk another explanation, sir, I think I will.

To tell you the truth, I didn't come here just to check on your movements.

Oh, well, I don't think I can be of much use as far as this poor young girl is

concerned. But you've met her, sir, and personal impressions can be very

helpful. Now, did she strike you as being depressed or even suicidal?

Oh, no, I wouldn't have said that. Why?

Well, her manner.

She was very cheerful and she had lots of admirers. She was successful.

Undressing for tired businessmen.

Bit of a dead-end job.

Oh, I don't think she'd have kept doing that for very long.

She'd already had a couple of small bits in films, you know.

And then there was some talk about a television series.

Come to think of it, I think she was supposed to meet a producer last night.

Spendoza? Don't know the name.

Did Miss Stark tell you all this?

She told everybody, poor kid. She was very excited.

Well, certainly not suicidal, I should have said.

Well, I think that's all, sir. Thank you very much indeed.

Don't bother to see us out. We can manage.

Oh, uh, I do hope you and the young lady managed to sort things out all right,

sir. Good day.

Oh, hello, Pop. Oh, oh, Miss Rawson there, the stage manager, he's got one

of the other girls to move in with you. Miss Stark's things there have been

taken away.

Thanks, Pop.

He did say if you'd rather change over and go into dressing room 10. I don't

want to make a lot of fuss. Thanks all the same.

June?

June, I had to just come and say... Come into the dressing room for talk, huh?

Glad you came, Johnny.

Silly, but I wasn't looking forward to coming in here on my own for the first

time. They might at least have moved you to another room.

They offered to. Only meant a lot of trouble for everyone.

Besides, I won't be on my own.

Johnny, I've got to apologize to you. No, I... I did something rather mean

this morning.

I rang your people, asked about you.

I'm glad you were that interested.

Imagine how I felt when they told me. I should have told you myself right at the

beginning. The truth is, I don't like the idea of people putting up with my

attempts at amateur journalism just because they know I happen to own the

joint. Why don't you just sit back and draw in the lolly?

I thought of that.

I'm not being rude, Johnny, but you don't seem exactly cut out for this kind

of journalism.

Case of amateur fools stepping in where professional angels fear to tread.

If I had a hat, Johnny, I'd take it off to you.

Thank you.

Oh, now about this famous article we never got round to. Look, I can give you

half an hour now. I think I have a better idea than that.

This terrible business has opened my eyes to one thing at least.

Just how out of touch my kind of paper is.

Oh, I know there are lots of people who like to look at the pinups, but WOW is

only one of many magazines catering to that kind of market.

Yes, but how are you... What I think we ought to do is, until the killer has

been found, tried and convicted, we keep our readers posted about what the police

are doing, who's interviewing who, what clues have been found and so on.

Your readers will have to learn to read.

You've got a point there.

It's worth trying anyhow.

All right, then you can start with me.

I was interviewed by the police this morning. Oh, I was too. Just routine

stuff. Except, what about the Spendoza character?

Well, I know the name because Gloria told me about the TV offer, but I

haven't seen him.

The police say that Pop was the only one who did.

All he can remember is that he wore glasses.

I would have thought a stage doorkeeper would be more observant than that.

Not if he was reading Wow at the time.

Pop was one of your most loyal customers.

Wait a minute.

Did this Spendoza come here to the theater last night, just at the end of

the last show? Yeah.

Wearing glasses.

So Pop says.

Thank you. Hey, where are you going?

To the police.

I've just realized I must have seen this man.

Not once, but twice.

You got it?

No, sir. There's practically no morphine in the stomach, but plenty in the

bloodstream. I'm not surprised.

She didn't swallow it. It was injected intravenously. You tell the doctor to

look for a hypopuncture. That's what he's been doing for the last five hours,

sir. And tell him to keep on looking. He'll find it all right.

You're pretty certain it's murder, aren't you?

Yep.

You got any more on this Spendoza fellow yet?

No, sir. No one in TV's ever heard of him.

Well, we've got some sort of a description.

Middle-aged, well-dressed, short-sighted.

Not much to go on, is it?

Inspector, bonus office.

Yes, hang on.

Young Mason to see you, sir.

Yes, send him up, will you?

Can't learn any more about Young Mason yet.

Yes, sir.

Oh, I'm looking forward to this.

What? He's an archaeologist, sir.

What are you talking about?

Straight up, sir. That's what he is, or was. But he runs this strip rag, whiz,

wham. Oh, wow, sir.

His uncle dug that one up for him. What's his blasted uncle got to do with

it? Well, do you remember Barney Mason, sir? The Canadian millionaire?

Yeah. I remember that old rip.

Dead, isn't he?

Yes, sir.

Well, this one's the nephew.

He didn't get the million, but he got wow, sir.

It's time.

Well, all I can say is it seems a damn silly thing to me.

Leave a thing like wow to an archaeologist.

Oh, I don't know, sir.

Well, according to his solicitors, the old boy thought that the lad was too

sober-minded for his own good, so he left him wow to broaden his mind a bit,

sir.

Really, then.

A cup of coffee.

Thanks.

Come in.

Take a seat, Mr Mason.

Thank you.

What can I do for you, sir?

Well, Inspector, I came here to tell you that I'm practically certain I have seen

this man, Spendoza.

However, on my way over here, I think I had an idea.

Let's just deal with one thing at a time, shall we, sir?

When do you think you saw this Spendoza? And why do you think he was him, anyway?

I bumped into an odd-looking character just outside the theater last night. And

later, as I was leaving, I saw the same man talking to the stage doorkeeper.

This morning, after I had seen you, I learned that this man had introduced

himself at the theater as Mr.

Spendoza. Would you recognize him again?

I don't know.

Why not? Was there nothing special about him? Oh, yes, there was. That is

precisely the trouble.

He wore thick pebble glasses and a toupee that was obvious even to me.

What age?

Middle-aged, I should think.

Well, that puts us right back where we started.

Middle-aged, well-dressed, short-sighted.

Thank you for coming anyway, Mr. Mason.

Excuse me, sir. Didn't Mr. Mason say something about an idea?

Oh, yes, so he did.

Inspector, I do assure you this is not vulgar curiosity, but do you happen to

have a photograph of this poor girl as she was found? Yes, we do. Do you want

to see it? If I may.

We are.

Well?

Don't you see?

They're practically identical.

Same pose, same place.

She's even wearing the same bikini.

Oh, you've already seen the resemblance.

Yes, we have, Mr. Mason.

Not completely half-witted, you know.

Then you must obviously know about the other one, too.

What other one?

The cover girl on the March issue.

Well, I'm afraid I'm not a regular reader of your paper, Mr. Mason.

That was Cynthia Moore.

Was?

When I started thinking about the way Gloria was found, I took a look through

some of our more recent back issues, and I discovered that just two weeks after

this girl had appeared on the cover of our March issue, she was found dead in

her bath.

Where? In her bath. Yes, I know, but where?

She lived down by the river, Richmond.

Richmond. That'll be outside my manner unless I was called in.

What was the cause of death?

Coroner's inquest said an overdose of sleeping tablets.

Not morphine by any chance?

Yes, it was.

Tom.

Get on to Richmond right away. I want everything they've got on Cynthia Moore.

Inquiries, proceedings, personal details, the lot.

Oh, and while you're about it, look into the dock. You may have found something

by now. Yes, sir. Now, Mr. Mason, I'd like you to get me back your shoes and

the other numbers of your paper after the current one. I thought you might

want those.

April, May, June.

Excellent. Yes, they are March, April, May, June.

And then there were two.

Who are they?

The one in the snow is Rona Charles.

That's her name. I haven't found out where she lives yet. The other one is

Miss Torquay.

Surprisingly enough, she lives there.

Have you got their actual addresses?

Yes, I got the office onto that right away before I came here. Did you?

Good man.

I just come from the dock, sir. You were right. There was a hypomark. It was

pushed underneath the thumbnail.

That's why it's so difficult to find her.

Mason, I'd like to come to your office with you, all right?

Yes, of course. There should be some more information for us when we get

there. Personal details and so forth. I told them to dig out everything they

could find.

Spoken, if I may say so, like a true archaeologist.

Oh, good evening, sir. I'm Detective Inspector Brunner of Scotland Yard.

Could you spare me a few moments?

I don't know what you want, but if you're from the police, you'd better

come in, I suppose. Thanks.

Oh, I don't know if you can find anybody to sit down. Well, that's all right. I

must apologize for disturbing you this time of night, Mr... Hodgkins.

Well, what do you want with me, then?

Well, I'm trying to trace the whereabouts of a girl, Mr. Hodgkins, and

I was given this address.

Her name is Charles, Rona Charles.

Oh, you've come to the right place, all right.

What's she done?

As far as I know, nothing criminal, but I'd rather discuss that with her, if you

don't mind. Is she here? No.

You tell me where I could find her? No.

Well, when she'll be back? Don't ask me.

Look, Mr.

Hodgkins, I'd like you to try and help us, if you don't mind.

It's very important that we find this girl. Maybe, but you've come to the

wrong man.

You see, I'm only her husband.

A husband? Just a minute.

This be your wife, sir?

Yes.

Surprising, isn't it?

I mean, when you look at that, it's hard to imagine her being married to a chap

like me and living in a two-room dump in Fulham, isn't it?

I must apologize, Mr. Hodgkins. It was the name that misled me. You couldn't

expect a girl with a name like Rose Hodgkins to go far now, could you?

So she changed it, along with everything else.

Everything changed.

Funny thing is, we got on all right before.

Mr. Hodgkins, when was the last time you saw your wife?

Oh, about six weeks ago.

And you've no idea where she is now?

No. She had been talking about going abroad.

Thanks. When I asked her where the money was coming from, she told me to mind my

own business.

Whereabouts abroad?

One place is the same as another to me.

Yes, but had she any particular place in mind?

Well, she said something about Switzerland.

Do you think that's where she is now? She could be.

Look, Mr. Hodgkins, I don't like having to ask you this, but do you think your

wife would have gone to Switzerland by herself?

Do you?

You've no idea, I suppose, who she might have... I've got a pretty good idea.

Some bloke from Paris.

From Paris? Yes, he came here one night in a big flashy car.

He said he was the head of a Paris fashion house or something.

He took her out to dinner.

To talk business, he said. What did he look like? He seemed all right at the

time. Middle-aged, well-dressed. He talked all right. Can you remember

whether or not he wore glasses?

Yes, he did. Those thick ones, you know.

Yes, we know.

Anything else about his appearance?

I don't think so.

Except he seemed to have funny hair.

How do you mean? Well, it just didn't look real.

I'd like to use the phone, if you don't mind. I'll make myself. It's on the

landing. Thanks.

Tom?

Sir? Get onto the yard right away.

I want a full description of Rona Charles. Send her to the Swiss

immediately. And make it urgent. She's got to be found.

Very good, sir.

What's it all about?

What's happened to her?

What's happened to my wife?

I've got a right to know, haven't I?

Did you report your wife's disappearance to the police, Mr. Hodgkins?

No, why should I?

And don't you think it's a little late to start worrying after six weeks?

Who said anything about worrying?

Just trying to find out what happened, that's all.

I've got a divorce coming up.

If she's... Well, if she's dead, I save myself a lot of money, don't I?

Yes.

Well, I'll let you know the moment we have any news.

I found one that matches up, sir.

Yes, that could be her.

When did this come in? Four weeks ago, sir, from Interpol.

They made a routine check at this end, but they didn't find anyone with a

description like that.

Give me an outside line, please.

Can they let us have a photograph?

Yes, they said they'd wear one with all details.

Well, it seems the only positive identification we've got is this German

wristwatch she was wearing.

Oh, hello?

Inspector Brunner here. I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Hodgkins, but we've

traced a woman who answers a description of your wife.

Yes. Yes, but there's just one puzzling feature.

She was wearing a German-made wristwatch.

Oh, I see.

Yes, yes, you needn't worry. We'll let you know as soon as we have anything

definite. Goodbye, sir.

He was with the occupation forces in Germany. He brought one back for her.

That's not too good.

I'll go and see if that photograph's all right, sir.

Oh, excuse me.

We've finally traced the Torquay girls' address.

Thanks.

Joy Adams, Beach Cottage, Thurston.

Five miles west of Torquay.

It's very good of you to bring that over yourself, Mr. Mason.

You've got a telephone, you know.

After all, we don't expect you to work overtime for the police.

Actually, Inspector, I was rather hoping for something in return.

Yes, I've wondered about that.

You know, I don't look too kindly upon journalists, Mr. Mason.

Especially from my kind of paper, I suppose.

Well, I wouldn't say that discretion was your strongest suit.

You forget I've been trained to dig carefully.

Go on. What had you in mind?

Well, WoW certainly isn't going to stop publishing pinups just because I'm in

charge. But I do intend to cover this investigation in a purely journalistic

fashion. I feel somehow that we have a kind of responsibility to follow up the

search of the killer.

Well, I don't mind keeping you in the picture as far as possible.

The Swiss found a girl answering Rona Charles' description a month ago.

Dead?

Suicide, it said in the report.

From an overdose of sleeping tablets. I don't know yet. I'm waiting for other

details.

There's a horrible logic about the whole thing.

Three deaths, all of them cover girls.

And they died in the same order in which they appeared on the cover of our

magazine.

Well, if the Swiss do confirm the identity of this last girl, it means

we're up against the worst kind of killer.

What do you mean?

The psychopathic killer.

A man with a grudge against your type of cover girl woman is all she represents.

From my experience, from what little I've seen of them, I'd say their morals

are as good as anyone's.

I said all she represents.

The commercial exploitation of sex.

Something a little more subtle than the commoner garden prostitute.

And quite a few of those lost their lives not so very long ago when a

certain madman decided the world would be a better place without them.

Remember? They never caught him.

That's what I meant when I said it was the worst kind of murder.

Sir, the photograph from Switzerland.

Thanks. And the cable from the Swiss police.

Mr. Coffey, all right, sir?

What does it say in the cable?

Milk.

No, thank you.

Help yourself to sugar, will you?

Thank you.

Here, Sergeant.

Oh, thanks, sir.

Yes, that's it, all right.

Found by a patrol of Swiss guides, Eiger Mountain, morning of April 13th. Dead

four days.

Four days? That's a long time to be dead without being found. Well, she was a

good way off the usual ski route, you know.

Cause of death?

An overdose of sleeping pills.

Was anybody seen with her?

Checked in at a hotel in clusters with a man called Fournier. Separate rooms, he

ducked out as if we didn't know, four days before she was found.

Have they traced him?

He registered a Fournier address.

Any description?

Medium height, clean, shaven, middle-aged, wearing pebble glasses and

a dark brown toupee.

And then there was one.

Get me the Torquay police.

I know I'm being stupid, Mr. Marl, but, well...

Don't think I'm being rude.

It's just that there are one or two studios just as good in Torquay which

would really have done justice. It does rather look as if we're taking girls to

Newcastle, Miss Adams.

But it's quite obvious that you don't know anything about the advertising

business. It's much easier to get you to London than it is to persuade busy

advertising executives to go to Torquay.

Besides, we've got all the recording equipment here. We can do voice tests on

the Spartan and so on.

They don't seem to mind spending their money.

Are you dissatisfied with your fee, Miss Adams? Oh, no.

It just seems crazy spending all that money on fares and hotel bills and

everything. If Honolulu Sun Cream want to throw their money around, why should

we complain?

Their account is worth a great deal to my agency.

I'm not complaining.

I still can't believe they're spending all that money on little me.

Come, come, Miss Adams. You're too modest. After all, you are Miss Torquay.

And the size of the payment you've already received should convince you

that my clients are quite satisfied that you helped to sell a lot of their sun

cream.

Now... if you'd just slip behind there and change.

I can't wait to see myself on the telly.

I've already told you, Miss Adams, you won't see yourself on the telly unless

my clients are satisfied with today's photographs.

I'm expecting my clients at any moment.

We don't want to keep them waiting, do we?

A fella sent me the tame.

They say, Adams, this girl on the front page of whatever it's called, isn't that

girl your daughter, Joy?

I said, yes, that's her, all right.

Lovely, isn't she?

Yes, she certainly is.

Just like her mother.

No, no, perhaps she was a bit more beautiful.

Was she?

I lost her in the war.

Oh, I'm sorry.

It all happened when I was in France collecting this little lot.

Shell splinter in the spine.

Yes, yes, bad.

She wouldn't go down in the shelters, you know.

Maybe it was all for the best.

I wouldn't have liked her to see me like this.

Well, so you're working on this thing, eh?

Yes, I am.

Oh, interesting.

Me and you, at first, I didn't altogether like the idea of joy being

plastered all over the front of these things, you know, but, well, it doesn't

do any harm, does it?

No, no.

And remember, we used to have these sort of pinups in our cabins. Did the taps a

power of good?

Yes, I'm sure it did, sir.

Captain Adams, you know the main object of my visit to you is to make contact

with your daughter. Oh, my dear fellow, I forgot to tell her. She's in London,

I'm afraid. You've missed her.

Do you happen to know, sir, just where in London she might have gone?

Not the slightest. Some photographic job, I expect. She's had quite a few

since your paper took her up, you know.

She didn't mention anybody's name, sir. I mean, in connection with this trip to

London. Oh, yes, she introduced me to the fellow. Something to do with these

commercials on the television.

I can't remember his name, though.

Oh, seemed quite a gentleman.

Explained all the technicalities to me.

Didn't understand a word, but it all had to be done in an hurry like everything

else these days.

As a matter of fact, I can't afford to give the kid all that I'd like to.

If she can earn some pin money herself, well, I don't feel justified in coming

to have your father too much.

No, of course I understand.

I wonder if you do.

You said that you hadn't met my daughter.

No, sir, I haven't.

Well... Not that it's any of your business, but I can assure you she can

more than look after herself.

Now tell my daughter that you called. Now, if you'll excuse me.

This man, sir, what did he look like? Mr. Whatever-your-name-is. I don't

expect to be cross-examined about my daughter's acquaintances by a perfect

stranger. You have to show yourself out.

Come in.

Captain Adams, there isn't even time to apologize for breaking in on you like

this. I'm Inspector Bernard Scotland Yard, and I agreed to Mason coming

straight here to see you informally. We hope that way you might be spared

unnecessary official questioning.

But I don't understand.

Is there something wrong?

Yes, sir, I'm afraid there is.

Look, I don't know what you've already discovered, but the Torquay police have

decided that a girl answering Joy Adams' description definitely caught last

night's London train in the company of a middle-aged man.

You know the rest.

Pebble glasses, badly fitting toupee.

As usual, he went out of his way to make sure everybody noticed him.

But this sounds like a man whose name I can't remember.

I hope those advertising people won't be long. It's a bit chilly in this.

I say, I thought the cameraman was coming with the advertising people.

I never said so.

Don't worry, I'm quite a good photographer.

Oh, I'm sure you are. It's just that I... You're afraid I won't do justice to

you? Oh, no.

Only I understood that the photographs would be taken with lots of other people

here. And you just said it'd be a woman from the agency.

Well, I naturally assumed that... I can assure you, Miss Adams, you will have

all the audience you want.

But we can't wait for them, can we?

You don't really object?

Well, no, but... See, I've put on this costume you asked me to, and, well,

there isn't really all that much of it.

And with just the two of us here... I'm surprised at your embarrassment, Miss

Adams.

To show you your nudity means nothing to me.

You see, I'm not really what you'd call a professional model.

Aren't you being rather hypocritical?

I don't understand.

You hesitate to take your clothes off in front of me.

Yet you're quite happy to exhibit your nakedness before the whole world on the

front of this filthy magazine.

Well, sir, we've published a full description and appeal to the public to

come forward with any information.

Frankly, I don't see what else I can do at the moment.

Yes, sir, I do. I realize the seriousness of the case.

Well, actually, sir, the one hopeful thing is that he seems to be getting

careless. The Adams girl was strangled.

Yes, she obviously put up a fight and he panicked.

He didn't even try to use the morphine first.

Very good, sir.

Yes, you can depend upon it. The moment I get a lead, I'll let you know, sir.

Home office again?

Yes. Must have some action. I could do with a bit myself.

No joy from the mirror studios?

Oh, yes.

He booked in there in the usual way.

Everybody remembers him.

Pebble glasses, toupee, the lot.

He took a bit of a risk from being interrupted, didn't he, sir?

Oh, be your age, Tom.

What do you mean, sir?

Well, the mirror's the kind of studio that provides special facilities for

what I believe are called art photos.

Lighting, equipment, everything provided at an exorbitant rate, of course.

Bring your own model and...

No questions asked, and certainly no inconvenient interruptions during a

period of book form.

How long do you take the studio for? Three hours.

From the doctor's report on the time of death, I should think he used only the

first hour.

And then vanishes into mid-air.

Hello?

Young Mason, sir.

Well, I hear.

Oh, yes, I'll be here for a long time yet.

Yes, you do, then.

He's coming over.

How many people did you say had come forward with information about the man

with pebble glasses?

Ninety-four was the last count, sir.

The public's slipping.

On the beautifully vague description we dished out, I should have thought it had

been at least a couple of hundred by now.

Not to mention the nut cases that usually turn up. Oh, I think I can help

you there, sir. There's a man outside who swears he knows the man we're after.

Only one?

Yes, just the one, sir.

Actually, I wasn't going to bother you, but he seemed quite genuine.

Couldn't you take a statement? Well, he wanted to speak to you, sir. All right.

Wheel him in. Okay, sir.

Mr. Fairchild.

Mr. Fairchild, sir.

Oh, good day, Mr. Fairchild. Do sit down, will you?

You wanted to see me?

You are in charge of what the newspapers call the Covergirl case, I believe.

Yes, that's right, sir.

Then I imagine I know the man you are looking for, Inspector.

I should warn you, Mr. Fairchild, that...

Quite a lot of people have already identified him.

Oh, I'm not going just on the official description as issued by the police.

I must explain.

I own several houses converted into flats in the London area. That is my

business, you understand.

About four months ago, I left one of my flats to a man of similar appearance to

the man you're looking for.

Flat number 3, 38, Millery Gardens, Kensington, to be precise.

But what makes you so sure he is the man we're looking for? I was coming to that,

Inspector.

Yesterday, I called at the flats to collect the quarterly rents. I like to

do that personally.

It gives me an added interest, you understand.

Yes, quite, quite.

When I got to flat three, I found that the men had left. Rather hurriedly, by

all appearances.

The door was left open and the room was in a terrible mess. They're furnished,

of course.

And some papers had been burnt in the grate.

This was amongst them.

Here's to be a portion of the cover of that magazine.

What's it called?

Wow.

Miss Torquay.

And why should you notice this particularly, Mr Fairchild?

Well, naturally, I've read about the case in the papers. Who hasn't?

You know this man's name, of course.

I have his signature on an agreement.

The name there is William Sperling.

Sperling. Any idea where he's gone?

No, whatsoever.

Wish I had.

Gives me a month's rent.

Yes. Well, I need hardly tell you, Mr Fairchild, that this is extremely

valuable information. And anything you can add to it about him.

Anything at all, no matter how trivial it may seem. I don't think I can tell

you any more than you already appear to know, Inspector.

He was a quietly spoken man, well-dressed, about my height, a little

broader, I should say.

And, of course, that toupee and those terrible glasses.

He was practically blind without them. How do you know that?

When he first called to see me about the flat, it was raining.

I remember he took the glasses off, put them on the table while he wiped his

face with a handkerchief. And he literally had to grope round the table

to find them again.

Yes, I see.

When he took the flight, did he give you any character references?

I'm afraid not, Inspector.

I don't believe in them.

I much prefer to make my own judgement of a person's character.

Just as a point of interest, Mr Fairchild, what was your judgement of

his character?

It was obviously wrong.

He seemed to be a man of high intelligence, well educated and of very

decided views.

Only could be all of those things and still be insane.

The borderline between what we call insanity and a hypersensitive intellect

is not always very clear, Inspector.

Well, that's as may be, sir.

Luckily for me, I can leave such things as that to a judge and jury. Always

assuming you'll find someone to bring before them.

Yes, and thanks to you, sir, that happy event may be a great deal sooner than I

expected.

Just in case I should need you again... Oh, I've left my name, address and

telephone number with your sergeant.

Thank you for your courtesy, Inspector.

And thank you very much, sir.

What? Oh, I'm sorry.

I just got one of those funny feelings as if something were happening to me for

the second time.

You know, like meeting someone. Well, actually, we have met before. The name's

Branner, Detective Inspector, remember?

Yes. I feel sure I've forgotten something important. Well, as long as

you haven't forgotten what you came to see me about, I'm busy.

No, no, as a matter of fact, what I came to see you about is my magazine.

You don't want me to subscribe to it, do you?

There's not going to be anything to subscribe to, as far as I can tell. Come

again? We're having a lot of trouble finding anybody to pose for the cover of

the next issue of Well.

Every girl we've contacted so far is just plain scared.

The agencies are backing them up, too. Does that mean no pin-ups of the next

issue? Looks like no new ones.

I guess we can rustle up something out of the files, but I gather there's not

much sale for back numbers in the cover girl business.

If anybody had told me a week ago that I'd have been vitally interested in the

fortunes of a magazine like Wow, I'd have... Well, the point is we stand very

little chance of catching this killer unless the next issue of Wow comes out

as usual, as if nothing had happened. At least that's the way it's got to look.

Wouldn't he know you'd set a trap?

Yes, yes, I suppose he would.

In most situations, a man like this would act with more than average

intelligence.

You'd have to get up very early to catch him.

But we're after a madman.

A man with an obsession.

That's his one blind spot and it's our main chance.

A trap isn't much use without the right kind of bait.

I think I know where to look.

Help, am I on?

No, he's still laughing at the comic.

Oh, just a minute.

Oh, excuse me, sir. Sorry to disturb you, Miss Rawson, but I understood Mr.

Mason would be calling here for you tonight.

Oh, yes, he should be here any minute.

Make yourself comfortable.

Cup of coffee? Kettle's on. Yes, I'd love one.

Did Mr. Mason mention the trouble he's having with his magazine?

No. Anything serious?

Depends what you mean by serious.

Well, he did say something about circulation going down.

Well, he told me this afternoon that if things don't improve, there won't be any

circulation.

What do you mean?

Apparently, salsa supply's drying up.

Can't get anyone for next month's cover girl.

I know dozens of girls who'd give anything to be on that cover.

The last four gave their lives.

Oh, kettle's boiling.

Can I do it for you?

Yes, go ahead.

Then it really is true.

Well, didn't Mr. Mason tell you what we found out?

Only what was in the papers. I thought they were just being sensational.

Well, two and two certainly don't make five, as the papers would sometimes have

us believe, but they do add up to four.

So that's why Johnny can't get a cover girl for the next issue.

Yep.

That's why I'm beginning to doubt whether we shall ever catch the killer.

But you're bound to.

Why do you say that, Miss Rawson?

Because we're policemen.

You've got all the machinery for tracking people down.

Highly trained experts who can do things with chemicals and fingerprints and find

clues anywhere. Everybody knows that. Oh, yes, and everybody knows that

barking dogs don't bite. But does the dog?

Not always.

Especially if he's a mad dog.

No, you see, Miss Rawson, we're getting the worst of both worlds in this case.

We're up against two things. First, madness, which is unpredictable.

And second, a high degree of intelligence.

both in preparation and in covering up.

Well, if Johnny can't get a cover girl for the next issue, perhaps the killings

will stop.

Perhaps. For the time being.

Till the man we're after decides he hasn't drawn enough attention to the

unsavoury obsessions of his twisted mind.

And then, maybe next week, maybe next year, but sometimes, there'll be more

killings.

Inspector, you talk as if there were no hope at all. Oh, there was.

There was every hope.

If the next issue of young Mason's paper had come out as planned.

Do you really think he'd try again?

I mean, if some other girl... Yes, I'm convinced of it.

Of course, he wouldn't get very far. We're ready for him this time.

And believe me, that girl would be guarded closer than the crown jewels.

You see, he always has to kill in the same setting as the cover picture. So

we'd be able to stage manage everything in advance.

We'd know exactly where it was going to be.

Coffee's ready. I've got to go on for the finale.

Inspector, could you be here when I come back?

Yes, yes, I could if you want me to.

Hi,

Johnny. Pardon? Hi.

Oh, hi.

Are you having trouble finding a cover girl? Yeah, yeah. Well, why not give me

a break? I need the publicity.

See you in a minute.

Hello there.

Oh, it's you.

Inspector, have you been trying to persuade June, Miss Rawson, to volunteer

to be the cover girl on our next issue?

No.

No, she hasn't said anything to me about it. No?

Anyway, it's absolutely out of the question.

Surely that's up to the young lady herself, isn't it?

If June did decide to go on with this, could you positively guarantee her

safety?

No.

You know I couldn't.

Then you can't ask her to do it. I'm not asking anyone.

Let's just wait and see what she has to say, shall we?

Come in.

Do you think he's been scared off? No, not by my people, he hasn't.

It's only been three days, you know.

It's felt like three years.

I'll just go and check up outside again.

I take it you'll be seeing June Ham again tonight, will you? Yes.

The usual guard will be on duty.

Inspector, do they have to be there?

Getting so jittery.

After all, if anything's going to happen, it'll be here, won't it?

I mean, this is the scene of the crime, isn't it? Look, June, I can't afford to

take any chances.

Let's hope it won't be for much longer now.

Mr. Spiller, please, come in. Come and make yourself comfortable. Sit down.

I've been thinking over our telephone conversation.

With a distribution guarantee like that, Mr. Spiller, you should be all right.

And I can assure you, you've come to the right agency.

Now, I've got a lot of big names on my books. Of course, they may be a bit too

pricey, but... I don't want big names, Mr. Rusk. That's why I've come to see

you.

Well, who wants names these days? I've got actors, too. You know, just waiting

for the right part to come along.

In what sort of picture are you going to make?

There's been a murder case in the newspapers recently.

The Covergirl case.

Could be good.

You sound doubtful, Mr. Ross.

Surely sex and horror are the new gods in this polluted world of so-called

entertainment.

You cannot deny that this case is a surfeit of both?

You don't think it has too much. I mean, I'm all for the good old X certificate

when you can get it, but this one... If you're still doubtful, Mr. Ross, I can

go elsewhere.

Mr. Spiller, please.

Who are we to argue with the public?

Persuasion is always better than argument, Mr. Ross.

Now, the most important character in the film, and the most difficult to find, is

the murderer.

I see him as a man of distinctive appearance and character.

That's why I would prefer a relatively unknown actor, but it's vital that he

should look the part.

A middle-aged, average height, and of course, those pebbled glasses and that

toupee. That's easy. Any actor can put on a wig and glasses.

I know that, Mr. Ross, but I don't want any actor.

I want one who's used to wearing pebble glasses, one who normally wears them.

Now, have you anyone of that description or have you not?

Yes, yes, I'm sure we have quite a number on my files.

When did you want them?

I want to see just one who, in your judgment, is absolutely right for the

part. Now, if your judgment of mine coincides, then we can do business.

If not, I'll find another agent.

I'm sure I know just what you want, Mr. Spiller.

Today?

Well, it only gives me the afternoon to contact the actor I have in mind. It's

up to you in any case.

I'm seeing the show at the Casbah Theatre this evening.

So it couldn't be till after that. After that?

I'll take care of any expenses involved.

Will that cover it? Of course.

Don't worry, Mr Spiller. He'll be there.

Even if I have to put the wig on myself.

Come on, cheer up, June.

It's another night nearly over.

I wish I knew what has happened to Johnny.

It's not usually as late as this.

Well, don't worry.

He doesn't turn up. We'll drive you home, all right?

It's not gonna work, is it, Inspector?

He's not gonna come.

I know.

I'd hate to think that I was wrong.

Mr. Spiller, please.

I have an appointment.

Yes, sir. I'll see if he's here.

Wait here.

There must be some mistake.

Now, look here. I have an appointment here at 12 o'clock.

Where, Mr. Spiller?

I was just trying to explain to you today.

Get him and do it as quickly and quietly as possible. Take him to the yard. I'll

follow him in my car. But I don't understand.

I have an audition here at 12 o'clock.

There's a note here which says that I must come.

Was that him, sir?

Yes, that was him, all right, Pop.

I must say, I'd have thought he'd have cooked up something better than a cock

-and-boo story about auditions.

Auditioning here?

No, sir, we do have one once in a blue moon.

But I've either got to be pretty or funny, and he's neither.

Oh, good night, Pop.

Good night.

Well, John, it worked. We've got him.

June, is she all right? No, he didn't get that far. She doesn't even know yet.

I'm just sending one of my men in to tell him. Can I tell her, Inspector?

I'm afraid I should be wanting you at the yard.

What for?

Formal identification.

You bumped into him once, remember?

I sure do.

I won't take a minute.

It's all right, darling. It's all over.

I'm all right now.

It's just a strain.

All those days of waiting.

I know, darling.

Look, I've got to go along now to identify him.

Don't worry. Bron has left a plainclothes man at the stage door.

It won't take long.

When I come back, we'll go someplace and really celebrate, huh?

Okay?

Yeah.

Okay.

Back soon.

Stop laughing. He just went on and on about it. No, really. Good night, Pop.

Good night.

Good night.

Oh,

do you want something, sir? Yes.

The inspector told me to stay here with the Miss Rawson.

Two of you? Oh, he's not taking any chances.

Will you be here long, do you know? Because I'm waiting to lock up and go

home, you see. Well, I think you can trust us to do that for you.

Oh, thank you, officer.

Oh, just make sure that that's all jammed tight.

I've done all the rest. Posse?

Yeah, your mate. He's on the stage.

You didn't really think I would walk into such an obvious trap.

There's no use trying to get away or cry for help.

Everybody's gone.

We're quite alone.

You're wondering how I managed it?

Yes. How did you?

Simple. I just sent someone along in my place.

You people always want to complicate things, so... But this man you sent,

supposing he hadn't come, hadn't been arrested...

Then I would have gone quietly away and waited for a further opportunity.

Why do you have to do these terrible things?

Why?

I suppose it's because I am what Inspector Brunner says I am.

He says you're a highly intelligent man.

He also says I'm insane.

If wanting to give man back his dignity, to free him from the prison of lustful

images which foul his mind and his sanity, is madness.

Well, I suppose he's right.

I think I understand.

Anne can sympathize.

Perhaps you could.

But then it would take so long to discuss adequately that the police might

return, which of course is what you're hoping for.

That costume.

Put it on.

You must, Miss Robertson.

You must.

It's important that everybody should see exactly why you had to die.

I've already made inquiries at the theatre.

No auditions are being held there. I just can't understand it.

I mean, he rang this morning.

Fact is, I haven't worked for nearly six months and it sounded so definite.

Look, why don't you just tell us the truth?

We've got several witnesses to identify you, you know.

Identify me? As what?

Now, look, I've been an actor for 12 years.

Quite a number of people know my face.

I've worked for two years at the Old Vic. So you still deny all knowledge of

these murders? Yes, I do.

Come in.

Ah, well, here I am. Where's the body?

What's the matter, John?

It isn't him.

It isn't the man.

June!

Just a minute, John. Hang on.

After him.

Don't be a fool.

You can't get away.

Just come down quietly.

Stay where you are!

I warn you, if you attempt to come up here, I'll kill him!

Keep him talking, Inspector.

Keep him talking.

All right, then.

We'll stay where we are.

But before you do anything, let me just tell you this.

If you come down quietly now, without harming that girl...

I promise you'll get a fair trial.

You can plead insanity.

I think I can back you up all right.

Now just drop your gun and come down quietly.

That's all I ask.

You're wasting your time.

My death isn't important. Hold on, June. Hold on.

It's all right, June.

Hold on.

All right, darling, you can't hurt me now.

You can't ever hurt anybody again.