All language subtitles for Marlowe.2022_English_HI

[instrumental music]

[sighs]

Man on TV:
War continues in Europe.

Hitler has suggested
that any questions

over the future of Poland
will be settled entirely

between Germany and Russia.

He also stated that he regards

the Czechoslovak Question
as closed.

Speaking at Washington,

President Roosevelt made
no comment as to...

[upbeat music]

[music continues]

[music continues]

Clare: The name's Cavendish.

A Miss Cavendish.

Perhaps it's a first name,
Cavendish?

Um, cigarette?

The cigarettes you keep
for your clients,

are they better or worse than
what you smoke?

They're the same.

Perhaps it is a first name, Cavendish.

It's... a good first name.

Mm.

Please.

How private exactly are your
investigations, Mr. Marlowe?

What can I do for you,
Mrs. Cavendish?

Mm, you are a detective.

I'd like you
to find someone for me.

Mm-hmm.

Nico Peterson.

He was my lover, he disappeared
without saying goodbye.

When you say disappeared,
do you mean out of your life

or out of the world?

I don't know,
that's why I'm here.

Where was your husband,
Mrs. Cavendish,

when your lover Nico Peterson
disappeared?

[sighs]
In retrospect...

do call me Cavendish
without the Missus.

I like it.

Was your lover the sort of man
to disappear

with you as a lover?

Normally,
they don't disappear easily.

Marlowe: No, I bet they don't.

They stay around,

climb trellises,
scenes in restaurants,

lie down in the road,
promise you anything.

Oh, I know how it goes.

Do you lie down
in the road, Mr. Marlowe?

- Drink?
- Please.

Well, he's tall, like you.

Bit of a weaker man.

He dresses nice, meticulously.

What does that say about a man?

Does Mr. Peterson get money
from his profession

or does he just
profess his profession?

You seem to assume
that I was involved

with someone unsuitable.

Yes, unless you were
unsuitable for him.

Go to hell,
you pathetic little...

Marlowe: Would it be accurate
to say that Mr. Peterson

would be a marginal person
in motion pictures?

- Apologies, sir.
- Yes. Alright.

Clare: It would be accurate,

it would be
very accurate indeed.

Man 1: Go to hell,
you pathetic...

Clare: We would meet
at the Corbata Club.

Do you know it?

Marlowe: How did Mr. Peterson
know the Corbata Club?

Was he your guest

or the kind of guy
who was anybody's guest?

My husband and I
have an arrangement.

May I ask,
is your husband homosexual?

[chuckles]

No. He isn't remotely
that interesting.

He likes polo,
alcohol, waitresses

and my money.

Marlowe: Your money,
Mrs. Cavendish?

I beg your pardon, Mr. Marlowe.

I'm asking if the
money is yours.

My father was in oil,
he's dead.

You'd know my mother,
but we won't discuss her now.

Did you conduct your affair
with Mr. Peterson at the club?

We weren't meeting
in the horse sheds, Mr. Marlowe.

Marlowe:
What did he not show up for?

An assignation.

[instrumental music]

Clare: I telephoned him
a few times, no answer,

and then I went to his house
the following week.

[door rattling]

The milk hadn't been canceled

and the newspapers
were piled up on his porch.

[knock on door]

Marlowe: Did he have
things to hide?

Clare: Haven't we all?

Marlowe: What do you think
has become of Mr. Peterson?

Clare: Told you,
I want a set of fresh eyes

and yours come
highly recommended.

Maybe you'll find out
what I can't.

My name's really Clare,
like the county.

You know the county?

Yeah, in Ireland.
I know it well.

My mother was in pictures,
you'd know her.

It's rather embarrassing
with the upper class.

You're very perceptive
and sensitive, Mr. Marlowe.

I imagine it gives you trouble.

[instrumental music]

[doorknob rattling]

He ain't home, bo.

What? He owe you dough
or make time with your wife?

That's the way it is, huh?

Yeah, I'd say so,
and good for him.

He's not a bad guy, if you don't
trust people anyway. I don't.

I think he's from Cleveland.

That's my place
across the street,

he used to come over sometimes,

pass the time of day.

Give me a smoke.

How, uh, how long
has he been gone?

Oh, I guess I last seen him
seven weeks ago.

You, uh, you see him leave?

No, I just noticed he was gone.

How did you know?

Well, he wasn't there anymore.

That means there weren't any
women banging on his front door,

or throwing a shoe at the house.

I mean, I did pretty good
in my day, but not like him.

Are you a cop?

Sort of.

A private dick ain't no cop.

Yeah, you're not the first one
to come around asking about him.

A pair of wetbacks
showed up last week,

and they was all gussied up,
but a beaner in a suit

and fancy necktie,
it's still a beaner, right?

No, sometimes
he's the King of Spain.

King of Spain don't ride
around in no Lincoln,

with a Mexican re-spray.

Yeah, I used to work in the low
end of the motor trade myself,

it was two beaners in a hot car

that had been across
the border and back.

[engine revving]

Joe: Oh, let's start
at the beginning.

This guy's been looked at, sure.

Grifts, alienations
of affection,

parking tickets,
drunk at a social gathering.

And in the early days,
public solicitation.

Now nobody knew
he ever had a house,

he's down as domicile unknown.

He does have a house,
I was there.

Yeah, well,
there's having a house

and being the person paying
for it, I suppose.

Who was paying for it?

Well, I think you'll find
he was paying cash

from his no visible
means of support.

Hope the lady friend looking
for him looks good in black.

He was killed.
October 22nd, hit and run.

Outside the Corbata Club.

You owe me lunch.

Liquid or regular?

[tires screeching]

[tense music]

[engine revving]

"Deceased was struck
by a vehicle, make unknown,

driver unknown,
on Bay Canyon Drive

just outside the Corbata Club.

Deceased has numerous
injuries including

gross comminuted fracture
right side of his skull.

Death be not proud."

[engine revving]

[tires screech]

[suspenseful music]

[dramatic music]

[engine revving]

I guess there's no point
in asking for an invite.

Oh, none at all, sir.

Uh-huh.

Oh, hey!

You looking for a gardening job?

Actually, no,
a membership form.

Albert. We've got
a hedge hopper here.

He needs trimming.

A ver.

- Hey, buddy.
- A ver.

[groans]

[suspenseful music]

Maybe there's a reason
you're unpopular with policemen.

Keep getting, I don't know...

punched, locked up,

and almost,
but not quite, charged

with accessory,
obstruction, etcetera.

- And at your age.
- It's my manner, Joe.

Yup, starting to wish
you still had your pension?

Sure you are.

Look, Marlowe, listen...

This guy got killed after
getting sauced in there.

The remains smelled
like a brewery,

and he had marks
up and down his arms,

his head popped like a pumpkin.

The Corbata Club
likes to make it nice,

it does not like trouble.

Hit and run
is two crimes at least.

Don't fuck with me,
this is LA.

These guys like Peterson

are a dime a dozen,
they come out here,

they fail a screen test
and they do what they've to do.

Could any member
of the Corbata Club

not know that he was dead?

From our own Chief of Detectives

to the new
Ambassador to England,

I find it highly unlikely
it didn't come up over cream tea

that a scumbag had caught
a Buick at the front entrance.

Did they ask you
to broom the case?

No one has to ask, my brother.

Can I see the police file?

We don't need it.

Why you looking for this guy?

A lady wanted to find him.

Well, he'll wait
until she comes by.

[suspenseful music]

Dorothy: Go back to Boston, to
that miserable goddamn family.

And then onto England, the court
of Saint fucking James.

You're not the only one
who's done with this.

Just remember one thing.

Oh, please, darling,
not another.

I paid for that horse.

Dorothy: I get to keep him too.

Could you, uh, do mine after?

Are you the new mechanic?

Maybe, what's it paying?

- You've a name?
- Marlowe.

This is hell nor am I out of it.

That was his one good line.

You don't think
he was Shakespeare.

Neither did he.

Joseph: Maybe I am out of it.

Well out of it.

[music continues]

You startled me, Marlowe.

Apologies, seems to be my day
for startling.

Who else did you startle?

Some elegant Mick outside,
who quoted Marlowe.

Are you quotable, Mr. Marlowe?

Christopher Marlowe.

Ah, he played in Doctor Faustus
at the Harvard Rep.

Never lets anyone forget that.

- He?
- Hm.

Joseph O'Reilly,
my mother's financial adviser,

oh, and soon to be
Ambassador to England,

he never lets anyone forget
about that either.

What did he play,
one of the seven deadly sins?

[chuckles]
Please.

Iced tea?

You could have some of mine
if you like.

Marlowe: No, thank you.

I can offer you anything really,

it's like the Arabian Nights
around here.

Richard: Clare!

Clare!

Who the hell is this?

Sorry, I'm, I'm Philip Marlowe.

Hello, Marlowe. Cavendish.

Clare: Mr. Marlowe calls me
Cavendish, Richard. I like it.

It's your name, darling.

I like it as a first name.

Richard: Glad I'm good
for something, dear.

Have you, um, offered

your very large friend
a proper drink, darling?

She did, and I declined,
thank you.

So, Mr. Marlowe, what kind of
business are you in?

Mr. Marlowe detects things.

Ah, and what are you
detecting here, Marlowe?

My necklace.
I lost it, he found it.

Richard: Of course he did.
I wonder where.

Well, it was a matter of
retracing your wife's steps.

- Marlowe.
- Yes, Mr. Cavendish.

Fuck yourself.

It's a pleasure to meet you too,
Mr. Cavendish.

Clare: Didn't go for it,
that's odd.

He must think there's
something between us...

probably something... sexual.

So tell me about you
and Mr. Peterson

with no embellishments, please.

[instrumental music]

Clare: I met him at the Corbata
Club for the first time.

Thought he was handsome.

We made love, and then I saw
him again, a few weeks later,

not an assignation,
an accident.

In Tijuana at my favorite bar,
La Quinteria.

I was there with my husband.

We were watching the
procession, Dia de los Muertos.

[man whistling]

Marlowe: What was
he hustling in Mexico?

Clare: I don't know.
Nico has many schemes.

Marlowe: He's in the grave.

Nico Peterson is dead.

He's pretending.

He's pretending very well.

Clare: Oh, I know,
he's dead and buried.

That he got killed in front of
the Corbata Club, supposedly.

Everybody says he was.

But you see, the significant
thing is that

I saw him the other day,
from the street,

not in my mind's eye,

on the street,
not dead at all.

I think we're finished,
Mrs. Cavendish.

No.

I just wanted you to start
at the beginning.

Begin at the beginning,

that's what you're supposed
to do, right?

- Where did you see him?
- Back in Tijuana.

My mother wanted me to view
some Azteca horses,

you know the prancing kind.

I did that,
I do what she says.

So I was in La Quinteria again,

having one of their
divine mojitos

when I saw Nico
driving down the street.

[singing in foreign language]

Clare: He called himself
a collector.

Most of all collected junk,
pretend antiques.

I suppose
they're for the movies...

things that don't exist,
fairy tales.

There's a man in Baja,

who thinks Nico's
actually a producer.

[laughs]

He's been fleeced.

What? What's wrong?

You lied to me, Mrs. Cavendish.

And I sat there and watched you
lie to your husband.

Good afternoon.

Hello, Mr...

Marlowe.

Oh, of course, I knew that.

Richard made a call
when you first came in.

You know what they say
about the old boys' club?

What's that?

There really is one.

And what did he find,
Madame, uh...

Dorothy Quincannon, and
don't pretend you don't know.

Well, let's see,
you had a bad war,

and then in the twenties,
you drank yourself

out of a good job
in the oil business.

Did I?

Got on with the Los Angeles DA

as an investigator, but that
didn't work out too well either,

did it, Mr. Marlowe?

You see, he found all that out
in five minutes.

You're not the only one
who can make enquiries.

You weren't looking for pearls.

No, I throw them before swine,
it's a habit of mine.

Tell me, Mr. Marlowe,
what does my daughter want?

A divorce?
I might even approve.

I'm sorry, I only discuss
business with my employer,

so if you'll excuse me.

- Slan.
- Slan.

[sighs]

[suspenseful music]

Marlowe: Excuse me?

- Hey, Fergus.
- Oh, hello.

Ah, Jesus, here it is.

Not a single lead
on who ran Peterson down.

- We pursued inquiries.
- But how far?

Marlowe, if one wanted
to find an absolute nest

of entitled
and connected tosspots

who feel they can
just drive away

after running over
another drunk's head,

you go to the Corbata Club.

There were no witnesses,
a suspect wasn't possible.

Saturday night, they come and go
at that club like rats

through a hole in a garbage can.

It could have been
any one of a hundred cars

that flattened him, and probably
none of them contained

anybody it'd be wise to arrest.

We're in the real world here.
You understand a real world.

Sometimes justice is blind,

sometimes justice doesn't give
a shit and might be right.

So who's the mystery broad
you're working for? His sister?

Tell me about his sister.

Maybe she identified him,
maybe she didn't.

You tell me about his sister.

I got my own sister, you can
stick his sister up your ass.

I'm working for a person
who thinks

that Nico Peterson
is still alive.

Yeah, that's complicated.
I'm not a complicated man.

My client claims
to have seen him,

which gives you
a murder, my friend.

Yeah, I got plenty, thanks.

Here's your file.

My employer thinks
he didn't die,

that it wasn't him
that got smashed

outside the Corbata Club,
to repeat myself.

It gives me a murder, yeah,
theoretically, maybe.

What's your trouble gents?
Money or women?

Both, with the
complication of thirst.

He's like the rest of us, Pat,
except he can't take a hint.

- What'll you have?
- Whiskey.

Usual.

What's going on these days Patrick,

you, you married, or happy?

At least my laundry's done.

Pat had a rough
two weeks finding

clean drawers after
he lost his mother.

Fuck yourself.

If I could, I wouldn't
have to listen.

If it was an operation,
I'd sign up.

If he's alive, Joe,
you have a homicide.

Gonna keep saying that?

That's the last thing
you want in homicide,

I realize, homicide.

What, you think
it was a homicide?

I went to the graveyard.
Guess what?

- He was cremated.
- Good guess.

Yeah, even the teeth
were destroyed

and they'd be everywhere.

You ever run over a rat
or a cat, look at it?

If Peterson didn't die, who did?

Look, Marlowe, I know you got
this Sir Lancelot bullshit,

and you live like some monk,

you got no regular self-interest
anyone can count on,

you like getting sapped and
locked up for just not stopping,

and this is an interesting story
you have, if true.

But that stiff, Peterson,
for all intents and purposes,

had Peterson's wallet
in his pocket.

Plus, he was identified
at the scene,

for all intents and purposes.

By who?

The manager of the club,
Floyd Hanson,

and by the Los Angeles
County Coroner, who's a member.

So, it's nobody's business now
but county.

County line runs where?

Bay Canyon Drive.

Right along here?

Oh, Jesus.

Make the call, Joe.

I'll keep you out of it.

[engine revving]

Mr. Hanson says it's most
irregular, Mr. Marlowe,

but he'll see you.

Keep to the left, follow
the signs that say reception.

Oh, thank you.

[suspenseful music]

Floyd: I'm Floyd Hanson
the manager.

What can I do for you,
Mr. Marlowe?

Don't bother turning off
the car.

The gateman tells me
you're a private investigator,

could that be so?

Yes, I used to work
for the DA's office.

- I've heard that.
- I've heard that you've heard.

[engine turns off]

I'm here about an
accident that occurred.

- A serious one?
- Nico Peterson.

Well, that actually
wasn't on the property,

that was more
in the public road.

Oh, I fully appreciate
the distinction,

but sometimes people
get moved off the property

even though their leg is lying
on it a little bit.

There was an interesting case
in Cincinnati.

What was that?

A man was beaten to death,
and then he was put in the road,

and his head was run over
by a tire,

to obliterate the cause of death

and to get him off the property.

Mr. Peterson was run down
on the road,

and the road is not
on the property.

I appreciate that.

Was Peterson a member
of this club?

No, Mr. Peterson
wasn't a member. No.

Marlowe: That's because
you're exclusive I imagine.

Floyd: We are,
but your meaning, sir?

[indistinct chatter]

What would we do without Mexico?

Mexico's the future, we have a
sister club in Baja, California.

- Looks like the past.
- It must be brought along.

Mexico or its inhabitants?

Stick to the point, Mr. Marlowe.

It must have been
a shock for you,

seeing Mr. Peterson
on the road like that.

I was at Chateau Thierry,
old man, Belleau Wood.

I have seen men in more disarray

than that in which
Mr. Peterson was discovered.

Once, after an artillery strike,

I found a friend's tooth
in my whiskey glass.

I drank the whiskey.

You're a terrible man.

He was dead,
and I needed the whiskey.

You're my age,
perhaps you were there,

perhaps you know how it was,
and therefore is.

Royal Irish Rifles.
The Somme.

For the rest of time,
we see the dead.

Let's take a stroll,
Mr. Marlowe.

We're alive,
when others are not,

and it's a pleasant morning.

[suspenseful music]

Marlowe: I see
you've made inequity

pretty much your profession.

The Club is exclusive.
The rich like to play.

The polo grounds are over there.

So whose guest was Mr. Peterson
the night he was killed?

Who's your employer Mr. Marlowe?

We're at an impasse,
Mr. Hanson. Who's yours?

I don't know
what you want me to tell you,

the police were thorough,
aren't they always,

isn't that what they do,
be thorough?

I rarely blame a policeman
unless he's really bad.

There's generally someone
he's afraid of.

And who in this instance would
any policeman be afraid of?

Well, if the hit and run driver

were a very substantial
or a connected person,

a policeman might be afraid
of the Club in general.

I mean, I am.

What would it take for you
not to be afraid? What can I do?

Now, listen, Mr. Hanson,
I intend to ask questions.

Then ask your damn questions.

Now this was a hit and run,

and given the road,
it was probably a member,

and perhaps the driver didn't
even know he'd struck anything.

Everybody in this country has
been drunk since its inception.

I don't think I've ever even
seen a sober driver.

Shall we have some tea?

Marlowe: Is there much
gambling here, Mr. Hanson?

You're on very dangerous ground.

There are cards that are played.

Debts accumulated.

There are card rooms,
they're private.

Bedrooms?

We have guest accommodations.

Do studio men and the producers
have meetings here?

Why am I talking to you?

Because you don't know
who hired me.

Well, name the thing
that most intrigues you,

perhaps we could
conclude our chat.

There is the possibility
that the dead man

was not Nico Peterson.

His sister was shown his corpse
the next day at the morgue

and expressed no doubts.

Where could I find his sister?

Ask the police.

[suspenseful music]

Why do you raise the possibility
that Peterson is alive,

when I so clearly saw him dead?

Someone may have seen him
recently in the street.

And where was this,
uh, supposedly?

I can't tell you.

Goodbye, Mr. Marlowe.

I'm sorry that it was ultimately
uninteresting to talk to you.

Ah, but I do like this thing
that you have

about not being afraid,
when you should be.

I'll see myself out.

[instrumental music]

♪ Sometimes it seems ♪

♪ A part of the sin... ♪

Man 2: You're the most beautiful
woman in town.

A star.

[woman giggles]

♪ Sometimes it seems ♪

My, my!
You're not a regular.

Well, not yet anyway.

They do like to keep it exclusive.

Yeah, it seems that way.

Try me at the Cabana,
Venice Beach.

Excuse me?

Try me at the Cabana,
Venice Beach.

Ask for Lynn, Lynn Peterson.

- You're Nico's sister.
- Sir?

Gentlemen.

[Jade Vincent singing
"Impossible"]

[engine revving]

♪ Learn to play ♪

Marlowe: Lynn, I'm not sure
if it's an N, or an E.

Madam Cabana: With an X
if she works here.

There you go.

Robe's in the cabinet,
and no monkey business.

I'll try not to.

♪ Kindly fade away ♪

[Jade Vincent singing
"Impossible"]

Marlowe: Thank you.
Woman 1: You're welcome.

Here he is.

Mr. Hanson sends his apologies,

Lynn Peterson's been detained.

Oh, I'm, uh,
I'm sorry to hear that.

Is that, uh, Lynn with an X?

[grunts]

[groaning]

Ah, fuck it.

[groans]

I'm getting too old for this.

Hilda: Are you keeping
evil company?

Marlowe: More often than not.

Hilda: Well, then,
you'd better be a good boy,

because you're going to meet
Dorothy Quincannon

at The Garden of Allah Hotel
at 3:00.

That's in 20 minutes.
Dorothy Quincannon.

Did you come
for the film stars, Hilda?

I came to bloody be one.

Huh.

[instrumental music]

Dorothy: First of all,
you have to boil the water,

now is that water boiled?

Waiter: Yes, ma'am.
- And then scald the teapot.

- Give it a good scalding.
- Alright.

Put in one teaspoon per cup,
then one for the pot

and then leave it to draw
for three minutes.

Think of a soft boiled egg, darling,

three minutes,
no more, no less

and then you're ready to pour,
have you got that?

Waiter: Y-- yes, ma'am.

When you make tea, make tea.

When you make water, make water.

Waiter: Water.

I-- I don't think he got it.

[laughs]
Did you?

You lifted it from Joyce, ma'am.

Uh-ho, and he lifted it
from somewhere else,

shitty little man that he is.

Never a day's work in his life.

Yeah, apart from the books.

Terrible little syphilitic.

Tricked an American,

sometimes that's all
you have to do.

Is that what you did?

I've tricked any number
of Americans,

including playing
pagan princesses,

Elizabeth of England,
ruined widows

and any number of flash-eyed
barefoot peasant girls.

There's nothing to it,
all you need

are regular features
and the ability to read.

Oh, I very much doubt that.

I spoke with my daughter.

Surprisingly, she's not at all
interested in getting a divorce.

- She loves her husband.
- No.

[laughs]
But the arrangement suits her.

Alcohol, waitresses
and her money.

My money.

She hired you to find
another swine, didn't she?

Nico Peterson,
who doesn't want to be found.

You learned
all of this from her, yeah?

Ah! I want that tea strong
enough to trot a mouse on.

Fine, done, you can go now,
I will be mother.

Waiter: Thank you, ma'am.

[laughs]

I have also had the pleasure
of Mr. Peterson's company,

he was proposing
certain investments.

Marlowe: In the equitation
business, I presume.

Whatever business,
I wasn't interested.

But my daughter cannot help

but want what
she presumes I have.

And you had Mr. Peterson?

That was a presumption,
Mr. Marlowe.

Marlowe: An understandable one.

Dorothy: I'm sure my daughter's
paying you handsomely.

I can't talk to you
about your daughter's business.

What business do you think there
is in my family that isn't mine?

If she thought I wanted you,
she'd have you too.

Mm. Perhaps she already has.

I can only say it again,
I'm not in a position

to discuss your daughter's
business with you.

You're a proud stubborn man,
Mr. Marlowe.

I'm just an ordinary Joe

trying to earn a buck
and stay out of jail.

Clare's father drove his car
off a cliff in La Jolla

before she was even born.

He was in the oil business,
very successful,

but he couldn't hide
from the black dog.

It's the one thing that
frightens me, Mr. Marlowe.

That hound,
it runs in families.

You're afraid she's unstable?

Oh, I know she is.

So be careful, Mr. Marlowe,

she has this burning need
for a father figure.

You see, I had to pretend

that she was my niece
all those years.

My advisers thought that,
uh, a daughter...

would age me.

Marlowe: What advisers?

You've met the soon to be
Ambassador to England.

Mr. O'Reilly.

Dorothy: And maybe
he advised me wrongly,

but I had to listen
all those years.

He even bought a studio,

said it was to
advance my career,

but it did no harm
to his bank balance.

So, my daughter
had to be my niece...

until at last even
I had to face the fact.

The fact?

That my game was up,
it had been for some time.

No more barefoot colleens,
no more Ruritanian queens.

I have more money
than the Queen of Sheba,

and I'm a very, very,
very happy has-been.

You mean a celluloid legend, surely.

The key to Hollywood,
Mr. Marlowe,

is knowing
when your game is up.

Take the money and run,
or stay, if you want.

But at least take the money.

I had another investigator
on Mr. Peterson's case,

a shamus, called Seamus,
if you can believe.

What did he find?

Dorothy: That besides being prop
master at Pacific Pictures,

Nico was also a wannabe agent
with the client of one,

Miss Amanda Toxteth.

So you see, Mr. Marlowe,
my daughter wasn't the only one

spreading her legs for him.

So, if you find Mr. Peterson,
come to me before--

Where would I find
Miss Toxteth?

Don't know, some god-awful
B picture I suppose.

- Ma'am.
- Wait. How dare you?

I'm a little confused,
I've already been paid.

[suspenseful music]

[gunfire]

Cut! Cut! Cut!

I need to see the face,
the face,

I need to see the face.

Ama-- Amanda, uh,
camera's over there,

I need you to look
at the camera.

Car rolls up,
you look at the cameras, okay?

Thank you. Lunch.

I can take this off, right?

Man 3: Yes. After lunch.

Believe me, I look better
without the war paint.

Marlowe: Thanks for seeing me,
Miss Toxteth.

Call me Mandy.
You're a detective?

I'm more harmless than I look.

That must be exciting,
being a detective.

I can hardly contain myself.

Oh, well, don't contain yourself
on my account.

Nico Peterson
was your agent, yes?

Well, he got me some work...

"Riders of the Red Dawn,"
did you see it?

- Mm, not yet, no.
- Well, it's gone now.

Joel McCrea was supposed to be
in it, but something happened.

I play the rancher's wife,
who makes eyes at an Indian,

and the Indian gets hanged.

I'll catch it
when it comes round again.

Acting seems to be going well,
Miss Toxteth.

You're sweet.

Actually, my mother says
I should fuck more producers.

What do you think?

I think your mother
is gravely mistaken.

What can you tell me
about Nico Peterson?

How deeply should my account
be detailed?

Marlowe: Well, when did you
last see him?

I guess a week before he died.

He was trying to get back
into my good graces.

- He was a womanizer, yes?
- That's a tricky question.

Nico liked the conquest,
not the women.

He'd hardly touch you
after he'd had you.

That's a particular kind of man.

Some girls say
handsome men are cold,

that's normally just what
you say to ugly men

to make them feel better,
but... Nico was cold.

Nico had girlfriends,
but he didn't have

girls who were friends.

Do you know any of his
other girlfriends?

Amanda: Clare Quincannon
supposedly fell for him.

The blonde with
the terrible mother.

And the mother's story,
kept by the Ambassador.

He even bought this
studio for her.

I hear it's pure slavery.

Did Nico have anything
to do with Mexico,

business out of Mexico?

There's only one
business out of Mexico,

don't be a sweet chump.

When he had money that was why,
and probably the only reason

anybody would look for him,
owed money or a fix.

[suspenseful music]

What did he drive, Mister?

- Who?
- Nico Peterson.

Well, whatever he drove,
he ain't parking it here.

[dogs barking in distance]

[glass shatters]

[instrumental music]

[music continues]

You again?

It's alright,
I'm a friend of Nico's.

- Philip Marlowe.
- You're much too persistent.

- I'm trying to find Nico.
- He's dead.

Wait a minute.
Are you so sure of that?

I've been hired to look into
your brother's disappearance.

He hasn't disappeared,
he's in a jar on a marble shelf.

I had to buy it myself.

You saw it, too,
should have known.

What if I told you
he might be alive?

I don't believe in
fairy tales, mister.

I saw his body on
the gurney at the place.

So it wasn't at
the club on the roadway.

I did everything I had to.

It couldn't have been
easy seeing him.

Wasn't much fun. And what's
Floyd got against you?

Why I wanted to meet,
and if you're afraid of him

or anything, we have to talk.

I'm not afraid of anything.

- What's in the book?
- Words.

No dope?

Just words,
it's a book about words.

- Nico was good with words.
- You say you saw his body?

Yeah. And then the cop tried
to make me in the hallway.

Probably has a daughter my age.

It's funny, whatever you do,

there is always someone
trying to make ya.

Mm-hmm.

You know what, fuck Floyd,
fuck cops and fuck you.

I know the lady,
she's the punk's sister,

but who are you?

You are a big one.

I'm thinking of
renting the place.

[man laughs]

Donde esta Serena?

Marlowe: Who's Serena?

If you know my brother,
he probably dumped her.

[grunting]

[speaking in foreign language]

[intense music]

[speaking in foreign language]

[speaking in foreign language]

Where's Serena?

- Who's Serena?
- My brother is dead...

Who's Serena?

You take us to her

or you'll see what happens.

[gunshot]

[yelling in foreign language]

[crying]

[speaking in foreign language]

Please.

Cedric: Well, well,
what have we got here?

[chuckles] Boss wants a word.

- And who might you be big guy?
- Cedric, big guy.

Marlowe: Your boss's name?

Oh, he's a little guy,
Lou Hendricks.

Well, well...

Get up.

[groans]

♪ Down the ol’ big sea wave ♪

♪ I found a new baby ♪

♪ A little baby ♪

[man scatting]

The Lou Hendricks.

Finally, I need
no introduction.

I'm a generic name, Cedric,
an eponymous trademark.

You're a criminal.

Businessman and philanthropist.

I could use a few bucks,
take me away from all this.

I was hoping you could use
a few bucks, Mr. Marlowe,

but alas,
it will be transactional,

not philanthropic.

Well, what was
the words you wanted?

I can only hope
it is not a past participle.

Where's home, Mr. Marlowe?

Where the heart is,
but you know that.

No, I mean your actual,
quotidian home.

26, Maple Boulevard.

Let's take Mr. Marlowe to
his quotidian home, Cedric.

Lou: The Elements of Style
by William Strunk Jr.

A participle phrase at
the beginning of a sentence

must refer to
the grammatical subject.

Walking slowly down the road,
he saw a woman

accompanied by two children.

If you give any trouble...

he will drop you
like a bad grammatical habit.

[engine revving]

[instrumental music]

Lou: Do you need to dress that?
Cedric, your do-rag.

You mean my pocket square,
Mr. Hendricks?

Some days, Cedric, I wish
I'd left you where I found you.

- Give me the goddam thing.
- Thank you.

I hear, Mr. Marlowe,
and from various connections,

that you are
looking for someone.

- We're all looking for someone.
- Oh, that's very sad.

Tell me who I'm looking for.

Let me guess,
two Mexes who are looking

for a broad named Serena.

Serena, a femme of the most
delicate shape imaginable,

last seen in the arms of
one Nico Peterson.

- Does that name ring a bell?
- A tinkle.

I don't need you
to hear a tinkle,

I need you to hear
a sonorous bell

with a hunchback
swinging from it,

gong-a-dong-a-dong,
not a tinkle, Mr. Marlowe.

Who was chasing
Peterson's sister?

Two beaners, I hear.

Maladroits from sunnier climes,
the land of banana

and tarantula, who were also,
quite separately,

and I should like you
to notice that,

looking for her brother.

I would very much appreciate
a word with our friend Nico,

if you find him
and I will pay you.

Tell me what Nico
was involved in

and why he faked
his death and ran.

Nico, in the end,
had to avoid everybody, I think.

But I will tell you that
he used to run errands for me,

down in the land
of the sombrero,

the serape and the mule.

His Spanish was good,
he was dark

in a Latin lover kind of way.

He was useful in Mexico.

Is it bananas or tarantulas
you import, Mr. Hendricks?

Tarantulas.

I'm entirely
composed of tarantulas.

- And me afraid of spiders.
- Nico worked for me.

He would bring me items
so hard to come by up here

where the laws are so strict.

At the time of
his supposed death,

he was in possession
of some of those items.

And these items are?

There are items and items

and one item that
related to the said items.

Why don't we take a ride
to the Corbata Club?

Maybe he stashed
the items there.

Mr. Marlowe, people will talk.

When I go,
I go into the back entrance.

Please leave that remark alone.

- Wouldn't touch it.
- I grease the Corbata.

Lou: Beneath this
fine Charvet shirt

there is nothing but grease.

Peterson would've needed help,
he would've needed a body.

It has conspiracy
written all over it,

I don't think Nico went
to a graveyard with a shovel

and a lamp looking for a stiff
to fit his tuxedo, do you?

The club was in
on the conspiracy,

but what's the club's interest?

Ask your client.

I think you'll keep
looking for Peterson,

client or not,
because you can't stop.

But I'll pay you a thousand
just to sweeten the pot.

No. Cedric, uh,
next street on the right.

Pull over, please.

It would be wise to
reconsider, Mr. Marlowe.

[grim music]

Marlowe:
Stop anywhere here, Cedric.

26, Maple Boulevard,

and I am not so smart
as they think I am.

- You're welcome to come inside.
- They give you back your badge?

No, I'm here to report
a kidnapping.

If you find him, I will know,
and then I'll come get him.

And when that happens,
don't try to stand in the way.

Thanks, Cedric.

Joe: So two Mexes came out
of nowhere and kidnapped

this broad, is that what
you're telling me?

That's what I'm telling
you, that and that

she turns tricks
at the Corbata Club

and identified as her brother a
stiff who wasn't Nico Peterson.

Yeah, there are certain things
I'm just not gonna hear.

They were looking
for another broad,

someone they called Serena.

I'm not here.

[sighs]
His sister was kidnapped.

You don't put it in the system,
I'll go and make a report.

I'll go on the record,
I'll spill that Peterson

wasn't Peterson, and that's
not news, that's a feature.

I can never remember which
newspaper hates the mayor most.

This will all go okay if you
don't manipulate me, okay?

What we do,
we get you out of here,

I take a call from
an anonymous citizen

who saw her put in the car.

And you, play nice, or I'll put
you at the scene as a suspect.

It ain't what happened,
it's what I type.

Deal.

I'll give your pal Bernie
Ohls the dope off the record.

Sheriff's detectives,
I can start everybody looking

for her and they'll look hard.

Is this good enough for you?

- They took my .38.
- Yeah.

There's your .38, if someone
gets killed with your .38,

you still have a .38.

If they ever make us record
serial numbers, it'll be fucked.

[knocking]

Bernie: Marlowe?

- Detective Bernie Ohls.
- Wait in the car, Arthur.

- Get us a drink, Marlowe.
- Scotch on the rocks.

- She's being looked for?
- City, Sheriffs, everybody.

Not a peep out of the brass.

Once a bulletin goes out
nobody can kill her,

all car alert
for Lynn Peterson.

Mexicans driving some
sort of Tijuana spray job.

She'll get no different
than anybody else.

Just really look for her,
I lost her.

When you're getting to be
an old timer,

it's okay to get out alive.

I rely on you to give me
good example, Marlowe.

[instrumental music]

Who's the frail across the way?

Nothing frail about her, Bernie.

Well, lay low and, uh,
consider another profession.

[music continues]

- Goodnight, miss.
- Goodnight, detective.

Hey.

- Who hurt you?
- Mexicans looking for Peterson.

- What were they looking for?
- For God's sakes, you tell me.

- Coat?
- Thank you.

[music continues]

One could live in
a house like this

and so much would fall away.

That's how the other half lives
and we do pretty good.

Clare, you haven't once told me
why you really want Nico.

Amanda Toxteth claims
that he wasn't

especially thoughtful
in the bedroom.

Poor Amanda,
she played a tough game.

Marlowe: Tell me about it.

There's not one studio in
this town that's run by men

who were looked at twice before
they had their first million.

If women never liked you
when you were poor,

that must twist you all up.

So they call you forth for
refreshing acts of humiliation.

Marlowe: Who did you learn
this from? The Ambassador?

Mm, the Ambassador got to
town already loaded...

and he'll be even richer when he
leaves, just without my mother.

Your mother also wanted Nico.

She tried to hire you too?

She always wants
what I want or have.

You mean Nico?

Maybe, or maybe she's just
afraid that you'll make love

to me before you find out
just how terrible I am.

That's a terrible idea.

- Why?
- Why?

Because I'm in your employ,
because you're half my age.

Because you're so beautiful
I'd lose my bearings.

What can we do then,
if we can't do that?

[instrumental music]

We can dance.

Clare: I spent six years
with the nuns,

just so my mother could
be a flash-eyed colleen

with her hands on her hips.

She had to play the virgin
for 15 years, gosh.

Although you surrender
in each picture, naturally.

Then all the while,
the ambassador

was advising her financially.

Has he ever advised
you financially?

You mean has he ever touched me?

Suppose I do.

Maybe that's the wrong question.

- Oh!
- Pardon me.

[chuckles]
You're a terrible dancer.

I'm a worse lover.

You expect me to believe that?

[music continues]

- The dance is good.
- For now.

[sighs]
I have to be somewhere.

Should I come back here after?
Stay over as friends?

That never works, Clare.

I don't intend it to.

No.

A puzzle has many pieces.

I don't know exactly
what you're gonna find...

you might find a dragon
and have to kill it.

- Fair enough.
- Mm.

[music continues]

- Goodnight, Philip Marlowe.
- 'Night.

♪ At the moon ♪

♪ But I'll be seeing you ♪

[engine revving]

♪ I'll be seeing you ♪

[ominous music]

[music continues]

[thunder rumbling]

[music continues]

[door shuts]

[music continues]

Clare: Is the ambassador here?
Woman 1: Yes, ma'am.

Clare: So do we call you
ambassador now?

Clare, how are you?
It's good to see you.

- Your mother just left.
- What did she want?

- Don't ask.
- So it didn't go well?

[indistinct chatter]

Where's your camera,
Mr. Marlowe?

I don't have one.

Mm, do you have any idea

how much that photo
would've been worth?

- Are they breaking any laws?
- Only the laws of attraction.

I, for one, would pay
big money for an account

of all of their
terms of endearment.

He's old enough
to be her father.

Yeah.

[chuckles]

But then, so are you.

[indistinct chatter]

There goes Bernie Ohls.

Arthur ran the number plate
of your visitor last night.

Yeah.

That car belongs
to Dorothy Quincannon.

- So?
- So?

Of all the people in Los Angeles
who you do not fuck with,

the new ambassador who opened
the Pacific Studios

with bootleg money and his
mistress are top of the list!

[sighs]

Everybody's better
connected than us.

Ever wonder what
the attraction was?

What, the mother
or the daughter?

Maybe both.

[scoffs]

You are a very sick man, Marlowe.

[instrumental music on radio]

LAPD found Lynn Peterson.

- Where is she?
- Encino.

She'll wait till we get there.

Was she, um, was she shot
with my gun?

No.

No, she wasn't shot.

[tense music]

Man 4: Deep continuous
transverse wound

to the anterior
triangles of the neck,

cutting both venous
and arterial structures.

Injuries not
compatible with life.

That means her throat was cut.

Man 4: That was after
the lit cigarettes,

the knuckle dusters,
the knife, the rape.

Oh, my God.

Guys, you're not
gonna like this.

- Hey, you!
- Yeah?

That's the sister of the man
you identified two weeks ago

who was killed outside
the Corbata Club.

His head was squashed
like a pumpkin.

Were you aware of that?

Make a note of it
in your report, doc.

- I just do the bodies.
- Just make a note of it.

- Thank you, Bernie.
- Nobody lives forever.

When things get down and dirty,
rank and file don't like it.

- Not even in county.
- At last, Bernie.

Joe? Come with us.

Bernie: The blue car
came in an hour ago,

the two suspects
from Tijuana got out.

That's the re-spray.
Bernie: Yep. Who's that?

That's the Bentley of
Mr. Lou Hendricks.

- The Lou Hendricks.
- The same.

So he's a member,
like the Mexicans.

I want you to go
after these fucks

like a rat terrier in a closet.

I don't wanna know
anything about it.

Ah, come on, Bernie,
do it yourself.

I still have a pension,
you don't.

Fair enough.

We own Bay Canyon, we'll block
the roads in and out.

Give me the glasses.

- Get down that rat hole.
- How?

- Doesn't matter how.
- Fair enough.

Come on, Joe, let's do this.

- You look like shit.
- Fair enough.

Just so you know, the real shit
doesn't go down in there until

the early hours, so once you're
in, you gotta wait and wait.

Fair enough.

And remember, you're the guy
who can ID the Mexicans,

so watch your corners.

Fair enough.

Hey, will this
get my badge back?

Is that what you want?

You mind?

[suspenseful music]

[clanking]

[music continues]

- Otis!
- Yes, ma'am?

I'll be right down.
Otis: Yes, ma'am.

You're a long, long way
from Tipperary, Dorothy.

[suspenseful music]

What is this called?

It's called a Miguel Finn,
a Mickey Finn.

[music continues]

[door opens]

[music continues]

[sniffing]

Girls, boys, heroin, coke.

I've given it some thought,

and I'd like to fill out
an application.

Not polite.

Maybe because I don't feel
polite this fine evening.

Well, let's have a drink,
talk about it.

- You heard about Lynn Peterson?
- Tragic thing.

What if I told you that
the police won't touch you,

but they're expecting
that I will.

I have nothing to do with
Lynn Peterson or Nico Peterson.

This is Los Angeles,
people are on the make.

Why were they here on the make?

His sister was a Cabana whore
with a junk habit,

she worked for you,
you're a pimp.

No, I'm not, I don't control
the place, I'm not the boss.

So who is?

Dorothy Quincannon?
The Ambassador?

How little you know,
Mr. Marlowe.

I do know a guy
named Lou Hendricks.

- You might know him too.
- His people call my people.

I'm going down
the rabbit hole, Floyd,

I might even take you with me.

We'll need that drink then.

We can join
Lou Hendricks down below.

Beating you round the walls
doesn't get me much does it?

- Must be the military training.
- Huh?

- Okay, I'll have that drink.
- It's, uh, very difficult.

To balance your many obligations
to the various interests

of all the people,
powerful people.

Discretion is a thing
that we provide.

And you take protection
in return.

Very, very serious protection,
Mr. Marlowe.

Now you will know
the full extent of it.

I appreciate your
difficulties, Mr. Hanson.

It's difficult to run a whore
house and not have anyone know

it is one... especially
when you're also

in the narcotics business.

Floyd: There's an awful lot
you don't understand.

About narcotics?
Floyd: About management.

The Corbata Club investors
leave me alone to,

to manage the place.

Now, I don't trouble them
when difficulties arise,

unless the difficulties are,
how shall we say,

hard for me to deal with alone.

[intense music]

Like the whore
who won't play ball,

the girl or a boy who aren't
as interested as you'd like.

Or the snoop
who's far too interested.

You give them
a little something?

Are you alright, Mr. Marlowe?

I would've thought you'd be a
man who could hold his liquor.

Seems I was wrong.

As you go to sleep,
I want you to consider...

the whereabouts of Nico Peterson
were never the issue,

it was the whereabouts of what
Nico had in his possession.

We'll get to the bottom of
those issues without your help.

From everything I hear,
you were never a team player,

never went along to get along
and see where it gets you?

You're dying, alone.

[music continues]

[instrumental music]

♪ I'll be seeing you ♪

♪ In all the
ol' familiar places ♪

♪ That this heart of mine
embraces ♪

♪ All day through ♪

♪ In that small cafe ♪

[laughing]

♪ Across the way ♪

♪ The children's carousel ♪

♪ The chestnut tress ♪

♪ The wishing well ♪

♪ I'll be seeing you ♪

♪ In every lovely summer's day ♪

♪ In everything
that's light and gay ♪

♪ I'll always think of you
that way ♪

♪ I'll find you
in the morning sun ♪

♪ And when the night is new ♪

♪ I'll be looking
at the moon ♪

♪ But I'll be seeing you ♪

[music continues]

- You alright?
- Yeah, I'll be here.

Damn.

Cedric: You're awake?

[coughs]

- This must be yours.
- You didn't drink it?

I remembered what happened
to Alice in Wonderland

when she bit the mushroom.

- You pretended.
- And you?

Should've known, who offers
the wheels a cocktail?

Lou Hendricks?

They're working him
over real bad.

That's him shackled up
inside I guess?

They'll have him
speaking Greek soon.

[man panting]

[man groans]

Promise you never
do that to me.

If I help you out of here...

will you help me?

Fuck yeah.

Crank up the volume.

Two dead boys from Tijuana.

See where this gets ya?

You're making this hard
for me, Lou.

[Lecuona Cuban Boys
singing "Cubanacan"]

[groans]

[glass clinks]

Much too hard.

What else do you do
for Lou Hendricks?

Too damn much if you ask me.

[glass shattering]

[metal clanks]

[rattling]

[sighs] Sweet.

Oh, righteous.

[thud]

Hey, we both go in there...

we're both coming
out alive, yeah?

Agreed, Mr. Marlowe.

[music continues]

[creaking]

Floyd: I'm getting
awfully sick of this tune.

[glass clinks]

Where is she?

Lou: Where is who?

The Chiquita bitch!

The one that you call Serena!

I already told you,
Nico had his way with her.

Floyd: Well, what do you
do with this?

It's just for shaving.

Ear, nose and throat jobs, huh?

I have people
who do that for me.

Oh, do you?
Oh, so do I!

So do I!

Frederick!
Frederick: Yeah!

Give him an ear and nose
and throat job, in that order.

Make him tell us
where Serena is.

Not Serena!

The Serena!

The Serena?

The Serena Ornamental
over there!

[man singing in
foreign language]

A plaster mermaid?

Serena's a fucking mermaid?

You gotta work on your Spanish!

Hanson!

[gunshot]

[groans]

Say this in Spanish!

[gunfire]

[glass shattering]

[water gushing]

Lou: Cedric!

[glass clinks]

Cedric, catch it!

[water gushing]

Cedric!

Yes, boss.

Was it beyond your capabilities
to save the fucking mermaid?

Sorry, boss.

You just broke the
Hendricks bank!

Sorry, boss.

It'll take you years
to pay me back!

Mr. Hendricks...

that's not fair.

Lou: As the progeny
of sharecroppers, Cedric,

you should know life isn't fair!

[gunfire]

You're right.

Life isn't fair.

I expected to
see grease, didn't you?

Grease and tarantulas.

But instead, he's entirely
made of soft tissue.

Go figure.

Shall we?

♪ I've found a new baby ♪

♪ Down the ol' big sea wave ♪

♪ I've found a new baby ♪

♪ A new baby ♪

[scatting]

♪ Oh ♪

[scatting continues]

Bernie: What will I find inside?

Marlowe: Some dead bodies.

Bernie: How many?

Marlowe: I forgot to count.

Uh, Lou Hendricks.

Floyd Hanson,
two gentlemen from Tijuana.

And one busted mermaid.

A mermaid?

The Serena Ornamental.

Packed with Mexican powder.

Now, very wet.

And you are?

I'm his wheels.

[scatting continues]

Huh.

Marlowe: So what now, Cedric?

Cedric: We both spilled
some significant blood.

So we should stick together.

I'll be your driver
for the moment.

Marlowe: Cedric,
I have my own wheels.

Cedric: Of course you do...

but consider the parking.

[suspenseful music]

Well, well...

if it isn't Mr. Nico Peterson.

So...

you're not dead.

You're quite the detective.

What do you want?

You've been looking into the
circumstances of my demise.

My determination for
some time has been that

reports of your death
were greatly exaggerated.

[Nico chuckles]

I'll say.

But not your sisters.

My half-sister's, from my
fathers wild days in Acapulco.

Marlowe: So you won't
be spilling any tears?

She is dead, I know.

Marlowe: She did not die pleasantly.

I couldn't help that.

You could help yourself though.

Well, I happen to have
something everybody wants.

Marlowe: More dope?

Much better than dope.

[chuckles]

You are all too much for me.

All I am is a working stiff.

I need to get to Clare.

I will do everything in
my power to put you both

together and never see
any of you again.

Then give her a message
from me, will you?

Tell her, I'll meet her in the
studio prop house, tonight

and I'll have the goods
on the ambassador.

What have you got on him?

Just give her the
message, Marlowe.

There's a few things
I want cleared up

before we decide anything.

What do you wanna know?

The body outside
the Corbata Club.

A musician who worked the club.

- Did you kill him?
- No.

Opportune?

He looked like me,
I like people who look like me.

What does Dorothy Quincannon
want from you?

Well, maybe she wants to
fuck with the ambassador

who's maybe trying to fuck
her daughter, I don't know.

Put it together, Marlowe,
you're the detective.

Everyone wants something on
somebody else, it's all just...

blackmail in the end.

I'll be in the prop house...

7:30.

Tell her I've got
what she wants.

[instrumental music]

Clare: I've just realized, this
is my mother's favorite table.

This is where the ambassador
advises us financially.

[indistinct chatter]

You've asked her along?

Yes, I felt I needed
some advice.

Clare: Financial?
- More like professional.

Mm...

My, my, my, it's Clare.

[Dorothy chuckles]

What a wonderful surprise,
Mr. Marlowe.

Tea, mother?

Dorothy: Scalded.

Let's hope he brewed it right.

- So a mouse can trot on it.
- So a mouse can trot on it.

Marlowe: You know I've so
enjoyed our separate meetings

that I felt the need for us
all to sit together.

What Mr. Marlowe means,
my dear, is that he thinks

he's too clever
for the both of us.

One of you hired me,
the other tried to,

so you both seem
to want the same thing.

Nico left you
for a girl, alright.

A plaster mermaid
full of Mexican powder.

That's disgusting.

A subject about which you
claim to know nothing, yes?

Why don't you cut to the chase?

And ask her why she hired you.

To find Nico Peterson.

Hiring a detective might just
be the best way to suggest...

she doesn't know where he is.

Clare: What do you think, mother?

I'm keeping him in
a shack in Rosarito?

Maybe closer.

Why don't you tell Mr. Marlowe
what you want with him?

Perhaps I am trying my best...

to save your reputation.

[Clare scoffs]

Well, maybe, it's the
other way around, mother.

You see, Mr. Marlowe...

her lover dumped her.

The Ambassador to England
wants done with tinsel town.

So she's playing the only role
left for her to play.

The femme fatale.

Her very own Medea.

[chuckles]

Oh, well!

It's a role that awaits
us all, my dear.

[shattering]

Huh!

Well...

You suspected one of us
would do this, but...

you just didn't know
which one, did you?

- Would've laid a dollar on you.
- Mm.

[sighs] You've quite
mastered the technique

haven't you, Mr. Marlowe...

of upsetting the women
in your life?

There are no women in my life.

[indistinct chatter]

Well, then follow her.

She likes older men.

[exhales]

Don't worry...

I'll pay for the mess,
I always do.

[indistinct chatter]

Are you okay?

I don't care that I'm
less than you think I am.

I'm always less than
people think I am.

[whistle blows in distance]

You're one of those
people who's just

lucky to be more
than we think you are.

I'll send you the balance
of what I owe you.

Maybe I can charge your mother?

- Together with a finder's fee.
- A what?

I found him, this afternoon.

Or rather, he found me.

I walked into my little house
and there he was.

- Mr. Nico Peterson.
- Where's he now?

He'll be waiting for you at the
prop house at Pacific Studios.

- 7:30 p.m.
- Why the prop house?

I was hoping you would tell me.

Clare: Taxi!

[brakes squeal]

Go!

[engine revving]

[dramatic music]

Cedric: A car is more
than a vehicle

Mr. Hendricks used to tell me.

It's a sealed confessional.

A repository of secrets.

And this city,
devoted as it is

to the internal
combustion engine

is a city of motorized secrets.

You're waxing
philosophical, Cedric.

You have to forgive me,
Mr. Marlowe.

It's a habit I inherited
from my late employer.

He had a tendency to digress,
but you did say the prop house?

I did.

[music continues]

And I have to ask myself...

why the prop house?

And now you have to tell me,
Cedric, why the prop house?

[gun cocking]

Cedric: Nico Peterson was
moving Lou Hendricks' product

through the prop
house for years.

Marlowe: And the product
is from Tijuana, hmm?

Cedric: Hidden in a plaster
raven, the bust of Nefertiti.

A Virgin of Guadeloupe or a...

Serena Ornamental.

You see Mr. Hitchcock,
who could've worked wonders

for Pacific Pictures,
but is sadly on his way to MGM.

Mr. Hitchcock,
like Mr. Hendricks,

always liked to keep
the script to himself.

But many conversations,

overheard from this here
front seat, enabled me to do

what Mr. Hitchcock
always managed so adroitly...

to work out the plot.

[gunfire]

It was never really
about a mermaid.

It was always
about the contents

of a certain briefcase,

which could bring
a whole studio down.

[suspenseful music]

Nico: Clare.

Nico.

You're on your own?

Did you want the full
auction house, Nico?

Me, my mother...

Floyd Hanson, Lou Hendricks?

That would be difficult,
two of them are dead.

Well, you're gonna have
to start the bidding with me.

What I've got here
is worth a fortune.

Clare: Really?

You better show me then.

All of the records...

of the heroin which was
flowing through his studio.

It's more than enough to ruin
the ambassador's reputation,

and the reputation
of Pacific Pictures.

Cedric: Nico Peterson
went missing

with one Serena Ornamental
and one handmade briefcase

packed with records
of every dope transaction

since he and Lou Hendricks
started business.

He was trying to
sell this information

to anyone he could find.

[brakes squeal]

Nico: I'm a book-keeper,
darling, a good one.

Import, export,
I kept every transaction.

[engine sputtering]

[music continues]

You're more than
a book-keeper, Nico.

You'd sell tickets
to the gates of hell.

Nico: Maybe that's why
you like me.

I never liked you, Nico.

[metal clanks]

[gunshot]

Do you trust me
that little, Clare?

[gunshot]

Clare: You know how
it is these days, Nico.

Nobody trusts anyone.

What-- what was
that sound, Clare?

My mother's gun.

I found it in her boudoir.

[gunshot]

Ah, fuck!

I'm so bad with these.

Why are you doing this?

You've always played
too low, Nico.

Take a lesson from me
and go straight to the top.

[gunshots]

Clare: That's better.

[gunshots]

Ah!

[Nico groans]

[Nico coughs]

[glass shattering]

[fire crackling]

[Nico screams]

I'm burning your books, Nico.

[heavy breathing]

[clanks]

[fire crackling]

Is he dead, Mr. Marlowe?

At last.

And that's why you hired me?

So you could finally kill him?

[fire crackling]

It's one of the reasons.

Has the ambassador paid you off?

I imagine he'll have
to after this

little piece of spring cleaning.

[fire crackling]

Tell me why
I shouldn't shop you.

Because he was
far too young for me?

Because he was evil incarnate?

Because he was already dead.

Let me deep six this.

Use the side door.

Goodbye, Clare Cavendish.

Good evening, Mr. Marlowe.

[instrumental music]

[fire crackling]

[sirens wailing in distance]

[instrumental music]

[sirens wailing]

[indistinct yelling]

[clamoring]

Tell me you didn't
set that fire, Marlowe.

No, Bernie, you know
I only put 'em out.

[music continues]

What do you think
I'll find inside?

The bust of Nefertiti.

The Ark of the Covenant.

Maltese Falcon.

Oh...

Nothing more significant?

What more could you want?

[Lecuona Cuban Boys
singing "Cubanacan"]

[indistinct chatter]

Cedric: So you got caught
in the crossfire

between a mother
and a daughter?

Marlowe: Yep,
I never seem to learn.

Cedric: And who wins,
Mr. Marlowe?

The mother or the daughter?

Marlowe: Who would you
put your money on?

Cedric:
Well, the ambassador loses.

Marlowe: Those guys never lose,
Cedric, they just move on.

[Cedric chuckles]

[door opens]

Mr. Marlowe?

Yeah.

She will see you now.

Thank you.

[music continues]

[indistinct chatter]

- Mr. Marlowe.
- Mrs. Cavendish.

[indistinct chatter]

So, this was the transaction?

What exactly do you mean?
Man 5: Thank you.

You saved the ambassador's ass,
he lets you run things.

It's better than the bootlegging
trade, don't you think?

The ambassadors
moved beyond all that.

Your mother's acting
again I see.

Clare: Uh, she never stopped.

What's the story?

Oh, you know, like any.

Love, murder, reconciliation.

Marlowe: Happy ending?

Mm...

We're working on that.

So, are you, uh, going to tell
me why I'm here, Mrs. Cavendish?

The studio needs someone to
play knight in shining armor.

[chuckles]

I saw ten of those guys outside.

They can only act the part.

So I should say
my goodbyes then.

The studios all
cleaned up, Mr. Marlowe.

Roosevelt's an inch
from joining the war effort.

The ambassador would like to...

reward you for your discretion.

The studio will always need
its private detective.

You're offering me a job?

More than a job.

A pension.

Executive in charge of security.

We all have our secrets,
Mr. Marlowe.

Leading men with their
little peccadilloes.

Leading ladies
who can't function

without their Mexican tinctures.

We all need someone
to keep us in line.

And your secrets,
Mrs. Cavendish?

You'll have to keep those too.

Not for me, Mrs. Cavendish.

However, I can
recommend someone.

I'll need references of course.

Marlowe: He's a friend of mine,
he's very capable.

He's dealt with many
situations in the past.

Very well spoken.

And a great keeper of secrets.

Are you blackmailing me,
Mr. Marlowe?

[chuckles]
Blackmail?

I would never.

I leave that to others.

Good day.

[people cheering]

[whooping]

[clamoring]

They don't like books, do they,
Mr. Marlowe, those Nazis.

They don't like
many things, Cedric.

Still, that Leni Riefenstahl
makes some good movies though.

You really like them,
don't you, motion pictures?

[chuckles]

I certainly do, Mr. Marlowe.

Mrs. Cavendish of Pacific
might have a position for you.

As chief of security,
that's if you're interested.

Oh, I'd be very interested,
Mr. Marlowe.

I would happily recommend you.

[indistinct chatter]

I'd need references, huh?

Only one, me.

[chuckles]

And if you do take the job...

♪ Like a friend of a friend... ♪

Marlowe: This might
come in useful.

♪ Talkin' that stuff... ♪

Cedric: We've all done
bad things, Mr. Marlowe.

Marlowe: And that gun is a
memento of one very bad thing.

Cedric: So you mean
I can't shoot anyone with it?

Marlowe: Uh-uh...

use your Tommy gun for that.

Cedric: That's always an option.

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ And the black of the street ♪

♪ Blends up into
the stark night sky ♪

♪ But the light ♪

♪ Shines brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Shine brightest in the dark ♪

♪ All you need is a match ♪

♪ To start a little spark ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ 'Cause the light shines
brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Shine brightest in the dark ♪

♪ 'Cause the light shines
brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Hey hey hey hey ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Like a seed that you lost ♪

♪ In the garden of
your own desire ♪

♪ And you must've
been counting ♪

♪ All the things that
you hadn't acquired ♪

♪ Oh ignite your torch ♪

♪ And fill your
heart up with fire ♪

♪ 'Cause the light ♪

♪ It shines brightest
in the dark ♪

♪ Shine brightest in the dark ♪

♪ All you need is a flint ♪

♪ To start a little spark ♪

♪ 'Cause the light shines
brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Shine brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Hey ♪

♪ The light shines
brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Hey hey hey hey ♪

♪ Oh you're a point of
light in the sky of stars ♪

♪ Even when this world
is feeling so bizarre ♪

♪ 'Cause the light shines
brightest in the dark now ♪

♪ 'Cause the light shines
brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Now yay ♪

♪ Whoa ♪

♪ Hey ♪

♪ Hey hey hey hey ♪

♪ Hey ♪

♪ Hey hey hey hey ♪

[instrumental music]

[music continues]

[music continues]

[music continues]

["Impossible"
by Jade Vincent]