All language subtitles for Columbo.9x01.Murder.a.Self.Portrait

He's wonderful!

Last call for the howling contest, folks.

It's now or never for
the singing basset hounds.

Most original basset hound costumes...

are now being paraded.

Ladies and gentlemen,

the parade of the hero
basset hound owners.

Each and every owner in this event...

rescued his or her dog from the pound...

or took it in as a stray.

Come on. Yes.

Let's hear it for the happy basset hound.

Oh, yes!

Oh, thank you very much.

See? See, sweetheart? Look!

Mine's named King Archibald.

Well, this one, his name is Dog.

Excuse me?

He's a dog, so we call him Dog.

Oh.

King Archibald's won over 30 awards.

How many has Dog won?

Including this one,

if you count them all up,
it comes out to one.

One award.

Oh, really?

Well, my dog,

maybe he's not the most
beautiful dog in the world,

and there's plenty of
other dogs a lot smarter.

But if they ever gave an award for
the loving department,

he would win the grand prize.

When it comes to loving,
this dog, he's the champion.

Aren't you, sweetheart?

You okay?

Consider the nature of a beautiful woman.

Nose of a certain average shape.

The dimension between her eyes,
gloriously average.

Distance from nose tip to chin dimple,

average perfection.

Now, if each feature, in every respect,
is exquisitely average,

then we call that woman beautiful.

Thus, the trick that nature plays upon
mankind and the artist...

is to reveal the average as breathtaking.

You understand, Julie?

My back hurts.

It's supposed to hurt.

I'm hungry.

Always.

I'm bored.

Forever bored.

I'm not bored in bed.

So I've noticed.

Tell me a story.

Very well.

Once upon a time
there was a worthless slut.

She'd rather eat than sleep,
and she'd rather sleep than work.

So she was rather stupid.

Good. I like her.
Was she very beautiful?

Yes, her face was very beautiful,

so was her body.

That's why this great artist chose her
to be his model.

Sit still, Julie!

Will your model lead
a long and happy life?

Long and miserable, I should think.

Do you love her, Max?

Of course.

For her body or her soul?

You have no detectable soul.

Enough of this.

Go to your room, Julie.

I have a wife to attend to.

Your first wife or
your second wife, Max?

It's all the same.

Good, Vanessa. Perfect, Vanessa.

Everything is in its place.

I want your house to please you, Max.
Does it please you?

Who am I to be pleased?

Every man lives in his wife's house.

You should be satisfied.

Well, I'm not.

Ah!

Mrs. Max Barsini is dissatisfied.

A shocking state of affairs.

Tell me, then. What is it you need to
make your life complete?

Everything.

Ah, Louise!

Good afternoon, my darling.

Afternoon, Max!

Afternoon, Vanessa!

Good afternoon, Louise.

Well, what seems to be the trouble?

You are adored, cherished,

appreciated, admired,

pretty as a picture.

My wife.

Second wife.

That cannot be helped.

You're an investment broker.

We grow wealthier by the hour.

See how it all works out?

With you, Louise, little Julie,

you all give richness to my life.

I'm blessed.

When will you be done with Julie?

The paintings or the friendship?

The paintings, of course.
They're due in New York next week.

Leon calls every day.

In that case, only you can give me
the strength to continue.

Tell me that you love me.

You know that I do.

You're a remarkable woman.

I just adjust well.

Louise, I'm lonely!
Come and be a wife to me.

I'm only your first wife, Max.
Vanessa's your wife now.

I refuse to accept
this constant hair-splitting.

Tell me what you're thinking about.

Your dinner, Max.

Ah. Everything in its place.

Thank you, Louise.

You're welcome, Max.

Are we alone, Max?

Almost. Come, fill up my life.

What are you thinking about, Max?

Contentment.

Tonight, Max, your favorite.

Louise's bread. Louise's salad.

Louise's surprise.

Cioppino!

Mmm.

And now we share
the pleasures of the table.

Our happy little family.

Silence?

Cioppino is never to be taken in silence.

You should chatter like
delighted sparrows.

Instead, you stifle yourselves
with thoughts?

I want you to love each other as sisters,
and what I get is thoughts.

I see I'll have to set you a subject,
like schoolgirls.

Very well.

Each of you is to tell us
how she feels about the other two.

Well, I command it.

Julie, tell us about Louise and Vanessa.

I like Louise. She's kind and wise.

I wish she had been my mother.

And she knows how to make you happy.

Well, I was Max's wife for many years.

You're still my wife.

And Vanessa?

She's cold to me.

I want her to like me,
but I make her nervous.

She wants me out of here.

I thought we were past all that.

Max, you're the one
that'll want her out of here.

Louise told us about your models.

After a few months,
you can't stand the sight of them.

Vanessa, you were his model.

I was different.
I made myself indispensable.

More than paint on a canvas,
or a girl in his bed.

I think Julie pretends to be
a simple-minded little tart,

soaking up all your insults.

But she's just as ambitious as I was,
and that frightens me.

And Louise,

she's a part of your life
you'll never give up.

And that frightens me, too.

I don't know where all this is going.

And so you sulk.

I don't sulk.

You're sulking now.

I am not.

Louise, tell Vanessa she's sulking.

She's suffering, Max.
We all suffer a little.

Vanessa wanted to wear your name
like a diamond tiara,

Mrs. Max Barsini.

But now she knows that if she asks
for more, she'll end up with nothing.

She didn't bargain for this.

Neither did I,

when you divorced me and
moved next door with Vanessa.

And our model?

As for Julie, the child's so young,

she doesn't understand
what a monster you truly are.

So, it's all my doing, huh?
All this silent suffering?

Not at all, my darling Max.

We all wanted something from you.

In the end, I suppose
we all get something.

Even if it's just a little attention
from the master.

Still, I love you all.

I sacrifice myself
on the altar of your selfishness.

Come, child, we have paintings to paint!

Leon orders it in New York,
Vanessa commands it.

The vixen paintings must be completed.

To work, immediately.

He'll spend the night with her.

In that case, he won't miss me.

And I have other plans.

Good night, Vanessa.

Good night, Louise.

Thank you, little one.

That will be all for tonight.

Max, why do you call them
your vixen paintings?

To sell them.
It makes a story to go with the paint.

Infatuation and betrayal.

The vixen who blighted my life.

My paintings will make your fortune.

But I'm really very nice.

Then, together, we'll trick the world.

Good night, Louise.

Bloody hell!

Good evening, Doctor.

Do we know each other?

Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes.
I've made it my business to know you,

Dr. Sidney Hammer.

Psychiatrist, I believe.

Psychologist.

Right. Psychologist.

I thought you'd finished running
barefoot through Louise's head.

You're Barsini.

Am I?

Good for you, Sidney.
What's your business here?

If I were you,
I think I'd discuss that with Louise.

Well, you're not me.

Nobody on God's earth is me.

I'm not even me!

Hello, pet.

Heard you bellowing out there.

Was I crass and cruel?

About average.

That psychiatrist of yours...

Psychologist.

The suitcases. His?

Mine.

Signifying what?

I love him, Max.

That feeble mind-pumper?

I'm going to live with him.

When?

I leave in a couple of days.

Well, you might have told me
something about it.

I planned to, after the cioppino.

So that was our last cioppino.

Oh, for heaven's sakes.

Well, you're a divorced woman.

You're free to do as you please.

Oh, no.

No, I've never been free to do that, Max.

First as your wife, then as your...

whatever the hell we are to each other.

All of us.

Your women.

Lots of women.

I never lied to you about that.

No, never.

And I never had a will of my own,

or whatever it took
to resist your invading force,

all your whims and wiles.

I was ashamed to be so weak.

Really? I thought submission suited you.

You know, you're put together
differently than other men, Max.

Your heart, where most people have
a left ventricle, you have a jackhammer.

That's why I went to Sidney
in the first place,

to find the strength to match yours,
to make a fond farewell,

put out the lights and walk away.

You'll do that?

Oh, yes.

Spell's broken, Max.

I'm all grown up.

Look. Dead steady, not a tremor.

Easy as pie.

Rubbish! You belong to me.

I belong to me.

But not to him.

Louise, Louise, don't leave me.

Poor Max.
I've been vanishing for months.

You never noticed.

That's because you never
loved me in the first place.

Oh, didn't I?

How many other women would've done
what I did, when you did what you...

What did I do, Louise?

We never talk about that.

I made myself believe it never happened.
We both believe it never happened.

And Sidney?

When he pokes around your head,

do you ever speak about
what has never happened?

No!

Louise, when you swim
in your secret place,

just by yourself,

do you wonder, then,
if you'll ever tell?

You're hurting me, Max!

Remember the pain, Louise,

then remember the word,
"never." "Never!"

Don't go with him, Louise!
Stay with me.

Why? Or you'll do to me
what you did to...

Oh, I'm sorry, Max.

God, we're threatening one another.

We're saying things
that should never be said.

It's emotional.

Yes.

Partings.

Let's not say any more.

Sleep tight, Louise.

Ah, Louise!

Good afternoon, my darling.

Afternoon, Max!

"Never." "Never!"

Never.

Thank you, gentlemen.

See you, Vito.

- Psst.
- Huh?

Over there, at the end of the bar.

Yeah?

Is that Barsini, the artist?

It seems.

Max Barsini?

I think so.

You know, they say he used to live here,
a long time ago.

Oh, lived, worked and drank.

I wonder if he'd mind
if I went over and paid my respects.

I wouldn't.

Well, just to say hello.
What could he do?

Smash you in the nose,
break your ribs, kick you in the groin.

He's a very private man.

Who needs him?

Thank you, Vito.

Hey, after all these years, Max,

I haven't forgotten your ways.

I haven't forgotten your kindness
to a poor artist and his wife.

Our old home still up there?

See for yourself.

Louise, is she well?

Very well. Business?

Magnificent.

- Lousy.
- Lousy.

They don't come around anymore.

They prefer their white wine
with their quiche and their...

high-damn-tech.

And if I offered
a little gift of money, Vito?

Make the place high-tech?

Oh, the hell with them.
Keep your money.

A painting, then?

A genuine Barsini to say my thanks.

This place, Vito's place.

Sell it, hang it on the wall,
whatever you like.

Let them come, drink,
and marvel at the Barsini.

You... You would do that for me?

My pleasure, Vito.

When, now?

Well, these things take time,
you know, many hours.

Ah, yeah.

Perhaps I'll begin tomorrow?

No audience. No customers.

No way.

The whole place closed.

None! Everything as you prefer.

Max, I already got you on the wall.

Look here.

Here you are with Louise,
when you were living here.

Harry Chudnow.

Harry with the monocle.
Your first art dealer.

He was a real devil, that guy.

Fancy English.

I say there,

will you drink it
down the hatch, old boy?

And then he'd drink himself senseless.
You remember that?

I remember, Vito.

Whatever happened to Harry?

Who knows? Good luck, Harry.

I'll look upstairs, huh?

Go see, Max.

Max?

A moment.

Come in, Vanessa.

What are you working on?

The vixen paintings.

Can I see?

You know the rule.

Julie's gone into town?

Yes.

You look very nice.
A new negligee?

I haven't forgotten how to pose.

I can take it off.

I'd be lost forever,

the work delayed,
Leon shrieking in New York.

You'd never forgive me.

Try me.

Later.

Promise?

With all my heart.

Your perfume makes me drunk.
Let me hurry.

Soon?

A twinkling.

- You are going to begin?
- Yes.

- What can I bring you? Food?
- Nothing.

A drink?

I am about to try and produce a painting
out of this terrifying nothingness.

Interrupt my labors once,

even to tell me the place is on fire,

and I'll grind your guts and bones
into a new set of paints.

This I promise as a loving friend. Go!

I'm gone. All right, all right.

Hello, Louise!

Can I join you?

No, Max!

Please. That was no way
to part the other night.

I knew I'd find you here,
your secret place.

We'll swim together.

It was an ugly night, Max.

You know I'd never do
anything to hurt you.

Come, pet, sit next to me.

Then we'll swim together
and separate as friends.

I'm glad.

Lean back, pet.

Close your eyes.

Now hear what I have to tell you.

Don't look at me or I'll lose my way.

I acknowledge that
you're no longer my wife,

not even my divorced wife.

Go to Sidney in happiness.
I set you free.

Now I will tell you a lie.

You are no longer precious to me.

You are no longer my chalice of memory.

My own pet, my own Louise.

My pet.

You will never hurt me, Louise.

Max?

Max, I don't care.
It's too much, it's too long.

I'm Italian. I have to bring food.

Vito,

you were warned.

Max, please, what can I do?

What can I do? I...

Lucky for you, it's finished.

What?

This is beautiful.
Beautiful, Max, it's beautiful.

Not so bad.

I think it came out suitably, don't you?

You the one who found the body?

Yes, sir.

Wait over there.

Yes. Louise.

Can you come with me, sir?

What?

You're gonna have to come with me.

Lieutenant's down on the beach.

He'll wanna talk to you.

All right, it's nearly gone.

All gone.

Everybody can't have a free lunch.

Mr. Barsini?

Yes.

Lieutenant Columbo. Homicide.

How do you do, sir?

I wish I could say this under more
pleasant circumstances,

but it's an honor to meet
a great painter such as yourself.

Painters do walls, Lieutenant.

Some people regard me as an artist.

Well, you certainly are that, sir.
The whole world knows that.

The lady on the beach, sir,

you've identified her as your wife?

She was my wife. Her car is up there.

And those are her things?

Yes.

Louise.

This was her favorite place to swim.

She came here almost every afternoon.

Incredible.

Sometimes, I would join her.

Yesterday, I spent
the afternoon into the evening...

with a friend, painting a picture.

A bar, of all places.

I never even saw her yesterday.

Well, blaming yourself, sir,
that's not gonna help anything.

Would you say that
Mrs. Barsini was a strong swimmer?

Excellent. I don't see how
she could have drowned.

Well, it happens, sir.

A cramp, an undertow, there's no telling.

Those are the things
that we have to look into.

Especially the contact lenses.

Excuse me?

When I examined the body, sir.

That's something that we have to do.

She was wearing one contact lens.

Yes, Louise wore contact lenses.

Just one, sir?

Well, obviously,
the other one was washed away.

Well, that's what I told myself,
until I found this.

It was... It was there in her beach bag.

I got it right here.

Maybe I left it in the bag.

Oh, no, here it is.

You see this, sir? This is one of those
double boxes for contact lenses.

And here, right here,
there's the other lens, sir.

I don't understand.

Well, neither do I.

Mrs. Barsini,
she was gonna go out to the ocean,

and she took one lens out,

but she kept the other one in her eye.

Why would she do a thing like that?

A whim? Forgetfulness?

Maybe an interruption.

Anxiety to plunge into the sea.

Well, the evidence boys
are gonna look around.

But don't you worry, sir.
It'll all be explained.

Now, if you'll just drive your wife's car,
I'll follow along.

There'll be a few more questions, sir,
if you don't mind.

Not at all.

In a manner of speaking, Lieutenant,
we both enjoy the same talent.

I don't know how that could be, sir.

We both know how to see the world.

Truly see.

The contact lenses, remarkable.

Oh, I'm just doing my job, sir.

I think you're going a little far
comparing me with you.

But it was very nice of you to say so,

and I'm gonna tell that to my wife.

Mr. Barsini.

Max, Max, I just heard.

- Oh, what a terrible, terrible thing.
- I know, my pet, I know.

Oh, Max, I want you. I need you.

- Uh... Mr. Barsini.
- Max!

Max, I feel so bad.

There, my pet. We all loved her.

I love you. I know that now.

Oh, I know.

My darling.

We'll walk.

Ma'am? Excuse me. Ma'am?

I'm Lieutenant Columbo.
I'm with the police, the drowning.

Oh, yes, Lieutenant. I'm Mrs. Barsini.

You are?

That's a fact.

Then who was that
that drowned, ma'am?

That was Max's first wife.
I'm his present wife, Vanessa Barsini.

And she lived right next door?

Yes, Lieutenant. We were rather close.

Right, right.

Well, that explains it, ma'am.

Thank you very much.

Ma'am, the young girl, who is she?

Julie is Max's model. She lives with us.

In the same house?

And the first wife lived there?

When she wasn't over here.

Is there anything else, Lieutenant?

Oh, no. No, not for now.
That's enough for now, ma'am.

Goodbye, ma'am.

Lieutenant Columbo, sir, the drowning.

Come in, Lieutenant. I'm Dr. Hammer.

I just got here myself.

When they told me about Louise,
I didn't know what else to do.

Were you her physician, Doctor?

Psychologist.

We were lovers.
We were planning to live together.

Well, isn't that a little unusual, sir?
A psychologist and his patient?

We'd broken off
our professional relationship,

and then we met again
a few months ago.

I assure you everything
was completely ethical.

Is there any way
I can help you, Lieutenant?

Well, Doctor,

in cases like this, for our report,
we usually check for suicide notes.

No, no. I've already looked around.

Physically, emotionally,
Louise was a healthy woman.

But she did consult with a psychologist.

Well, I suppose...

the condition I treated her for
was her husband.

Her former husband.

That man insisted they were still married,
and demanded his privileges.

He was already married again and
that model of his living with them.

God knows what went on there.

Well, I guess we can call that
an unconventional lifestyle, sir.

Demented, if you ask me.

Who is demented, Sidney?

I've got nothing to say to you.

No condolences?

No grief from one lover to another?

Nothing but disgust.

Good day, Lieutenant.

Finicky chap, our Sidney.

If he owned a shoe store,
he'd buy all the shoes to fit his own feet.

You mentioned something
about further questions, Lieutenant.

Uh, well, sir, Dr. Hammer has
answered some of them, uh...

Look up, Lieutenant.

Not at me. Your profile.

Like this, sir?

Now, full face.

Here.

Light over my shoulder.

Your features,

character.

Homicide policeman who has experienced
everything that life can uncover.

It would be a privilege
to paint you some day,

if you'd sit for me.

You, paint me?

My pleasure, Lieutenant.

We can begin when we both have time.

Well, I'll be darned.

You wanna paint me?

Wait till I tell Mrs. Columbo.

And I'm gonna tell her right now,

because all the questions that I had,

they just popped right out of my head.

What a pity.

Oh, it's odd.

You won't forget, will you, sir?

I'm working on
the composition right now.

I have time now, sir.

Alas, I have not.

The press of prior commitments.

Right.

Oh, I know what I wanted to ask you.

Those contact lenses.

Did Mrs. Barsini usually take out
the lenses before she went swimming?

I think not.

Most people do.

Well, you ought to know, sir.
You swam with her.

Thank you very much.

Oh, that place where
you were painting yesterday,

where was that, sir?

Oh, that's a place
in old Los Angeles, Vito's Bar.

Vito's Bar.
Thank you very much, sir.

And I'm ready to pose for you
whenever you're ready.

Things are gonna be
different without Louise.

You frightened me.

Max is gonna need me even more now.

Will you be my friend now?

He'll throw you out, you know,
once the paintings are finished.

Do you think so?
And what if he doesn't?

I'll see that he does.

Oh, my. Such a strong manager.

Shall I tell you?
You're the one who's going to go.

You little tramp.

Tramp? You're a streetwalker
with an adding machine.

I happen to be his wife.

Without Louise,
you'll make a mistake.

Louise could cook,
I can make him richer.

What does he need you for?

Well, come and watch us some night.

- Alley cat.
- Money-grabber.

- Brat.
- Witch.

- Bimbo. Doxy.
- Shrew.

You'll push him too far.

He's already losing interest in you.

In the end, he'll chose me.

Enough.

- Look, I am not gonna put up with this...
- Just because she's your wife...

Be quiet, the both of you.

You should be ashamed.

Louise not even in her grave
and you carry on like fishwives.

Is this the way to comfort me?

When I need love,
all I get is squabbling.

Out.

Make yourselves useful.
Cook, pray for Louise,

wash my clothes.

Ah, Louise.

I can take you now, Lieutenant.

Thank you very much, Doctor.

Couch, Lieutenant.

New patients generally
decide the first time...

whether they want to lie there or
sit here. Which do you prefer?

Excuse me, sir?

To discuss your problem.
You said you wanted to see me.

Oh, that would be about my report,
Dr. Hammer.

It's nothing personal.

My report on the drowning.

Accidental drowning,
they want a whole life history.

Falling down the stairs,

you wouldn't believe the reports
they want for falling down the stairs.

I guess it's for statistics.

So, uh,

I think I'll take the chair.

I see. Well, in that case,

I've had a busy morning
and rather a sleepless night...

thinking about Louise. So...

if you won't mind, I'm just gonna
stretch out here for a few minutes.

Not at all, sir. Go right ahead.

I'm gonna miss her.

I think I know exactly
what you mean, sir.

Well, thank you for being
understanding, Lieutenant.

Doctor, you said that Mrs. Barsini...

first came here
because of her husband.

Uh, ex-husband.

Was there anything else, sir?

Well, I suppose with Louise gone
these things can be discussed.

She complained of terrifying dreams.

Nightmares.

I'm afraid I forget the details.

Well, try to remember, sir.

You know, sometimes it helps if...

you just say the first thing that
pops into your head.

Well, I remember I was having
difficulty interpreting the dreams.

I always felt
Louise was repressing something.

Holding back?

Hiding behind a memory.

That always made
the analysis more difficult.

Dreams are tough enough to deal with.

It's like a riddle inside a code
inside a cipher.

It's real detective work.
Everything upside down and reversed.

The nightmares, sir, can you tell me
more about the nightmares?

Well, if you're interested, I suppose
Louise could tell you herself.

I encouraged her to keep a tape machine
next to the bed so that...

she could describe the dreams
as soon as possible on waking up.

I'll see if I can dig up one or
two of the tapes for you.

There were three different
recurring nightmares.

Oddly enough, each one began with...

a knock on the door
in the middle of the night.

That place, that bar
where she lived with Barsini.

Something terrible
must've happened there.

Whatever it was,
she couldn't talk about.

Did you say a bar, sir?

Yeah, but I... I don't remember
the name of the place.

Would that have been Vito's Bar?

Yeah, that's right. Vito's Bar.

Doctor, you've done very well.

A genuine Barsini, a masterpiece.

Lieutenant, that's what a friend does.

In the old days,
when he was living here,

he was an unknown,
a suffering artist.

Ah, and that's when he was
living with Louise.

Now he comes back,
and look what he does!

I'm gonna show you.

For me.

Well, that certainly is a Barsini, sir.

See, you see that red?
That's a special red.

That red, that's Barsini red.

He mixes that himself.

Himself?

He grinds it up with
some special ingredients.

That's incredible.

And he doesn't always use it.

And never with nudes.

Well, it's an idiosyncrasy.
I read about that.

A Barsini nude, no Barsini red.

That's interesting.

Idiosyncrasy.

He's gonna do my portrait.

Did I tell you he's gonna paint me?

In the nude?

No...

Lieutenant, I thought for a moment...

No, no.

Maybe he'll use the red.

Is this still wet?

It is wet. Three days wet.

Hey, Max, look.

Your painting already
brings in a customer.

What is there
in the soul of man, Lieutenant,

that brings him to test for wet paint?

Accept my word. Don't touch it.

I think I already did, sir.
My sleeve.

My painting.

Bring my bag, Vito.
I'll repair it in my studio.

I'm sorry, sir.

Don't say another word.

What are you doing here, anyway?

Are you investigating me, Lieutenant?

No, sir. No, no, nothing like that.

A drowning accident, no witnesses.

We're supposed to check up and see
what people were doing at the time,

you and the painting and all.

I find that rather insulting.

To tell the truth, sir, so do I.
But it all has to go in the report.

There's no question what you were doing
when Mrs. Barsini passed away.

A work like that,
that didn't just happen.

Exactly.

Oh, Mr. Barsini.

Dr. Hammer, he was telling me
about your wife's nightmares.

Did you know that
she was having nightmares?

She never mentioned it.

Well, it was a while back,
maybe she got over them.

But Dr. Hammer, he thinks that...

something pretty frightening happened
to her while you were both living here,

and he thinks that
she was repressing it.

Um...

Oh.

Oh, that's you and the victim,
isn't it, sir?

Yes.

Can you think of anything frightening?

No, unless poverty can be
regarded as frightening.

Well, maybe...
Maybe it's all buried in the tapes, sir.

You know, I mean, these things
that she wouldn't talk about.

Tapes?

The dreams she put on tapes. The tapes
that Dr. Hammer's getting for me.

For your report?

Yes, sir, if it concerns
the victim's state of mind.

Are you suggesting suicide?

Can't rule anything out, sir,
just dig into whatever we have.

Even if it's just dreams.

I see.

I think it's time we got to work.

I beg your pardon, sir?

On your portrait.

Shall we set our first sitting
tomorrow?

Oh, well, you can count on me
for that, sir.

The bag! There you are.

Now you're complete.

He even looks like an artist.

I just wish I could paint you, sir.

Indeed.

The nightmares, Lieutenant,

I'd be interested to hear
about my wife's dreams.

Former wife, sir.

Of course, former wife.

Would you mind
if I looked around up there...

just to see where it all began?

Sure. Hey, maybe I should
charge money for this.

Harry Chudnow would
make a lot of money.

Who is Harry Chudnow?

Max's first art dealer. The monocle.

Oh, I would have to charge you
a lot of money, old boy.

For the police,
everything is on the house.

Be my guest.

Thank you very much.

Okay.

Julie. Julie, my darling.

Julie!

Hi. Want some fried chicken?

I just bought it last night.

Julie, I wish to talk
about you and Vanessa.

Come, little one. Tell me that
you'll try to get along with her.

I won't.

- For my sake.
- No.

Make an effort.

I won't. She hates me.

She adores you.

Sure.

Vanessa is upset because of Louise.

I hate her.

See? It's your fault.

It's always my fault.

Well, get along with her anyway.

I won't, I won't, I won't.

The two of you, you're killing me.

How am I expected to work?

I'm here for the sitting, Mr. Barsini.

Is this a good time?

Excellent.

You, not that. I do not paint dogs.

I understand, sir.

Okay, sweetheart, we tried,
but this is gonna be just me.

You see, the man,
he's not a dog painter.

All right, darling, come on.

You want to stay out here?

I'll just leave him out here, sir.

That's fine.

Okay.

I'll join you in a moment, Lieutenant.

Are you looking for something,
Lieutenant?

Uh, no, sir. No, just something to
take the paint off.

I assure you, I don't intend to
immortalize my paint on your sleeve.

Sit here, please.

Like this, sir?

Your face like this to catch the light,

hand here,

cigar up.

This is your pose. Comfortable?

Not really, sir. No.

Then learn to make it comfortable.

Virgin canvas, we begin.

You won't see the result of this
until we're finished with our last sitting.

Understand?

I understand, sir. No peeking.

No peeking.

I warn you, I intend to paint
your policeman's soul.

Dark, tormented, pitiless.

Don't expect to find your portrait
completely flattering.

Well, I'm in your hands, sir.

You were telling me
about Louise's nightmares.

Yes, sir, you said you were interested,
so I brought a tape along.

Could we play that, sir, while you work,
or would that disturb you?

As you please.

Okay.

Position, Lieutenant.

Oh, sorry, sir.

I have to get the tape, sir.
Take a second.

You know, my wife, you know, she's been
telling me about her dreams for years.

Oh, gosh, she writes them down.

She's fascinated by them.

Sorry, sir.

Oh, here we are.

There's meaning in them, sir.
No doubt about it.

It's just hard to put your finger on it.

It's now 2:15 in the morning.

My dream begins with someone
knocking on the door.

Vito has gone home. Max is upstairs.

It alarms me that someone should be...

pounding like that
in the middle of the night.

I go to the door.

There's a man there, an older man.

He's speaking in French.

I can only make out
a word here and there.

I've never seen him before, but I know
immediately that he's my uncle.

He's very agitated.

My uncle has lost something.
He's begging me to help him find it.

He becomes very angry with me
and I'm beginning to be frightened.

I call for Max to come and help me.

Max is coming down the stairs.

He's smiling.

I know that everything
will be all right now.

But when he comes to my side, I see
there's a hatchet in his hand, like a...

Like a meat cleaver.

Now Max is attacking my uncle,

hacking at him over and over again,
and I'm screaming for him to stop.

There's blood on my nightgown,
and I'm still screaming when I wake up.

That's what happened in my dream.

What do you make of that, sir?

Certainly a very disturbing dream,
Lieutenant.

But what does it all mean?

Perhaps nothing at all.
Just an attack of indigestion.

Oh, I doubt that, sir.

A recurring dream,
a puzzle inside a riddle.

A crossword puzzle in a mirror.

A French uncle.
What does that stand for?

A Dutch uncle.

Monkey's uncle.

But Louise had no uncle.

None at all, sir?

None. No uncle.

Then we have to consider this,
maybe everything's all reversed.

A reversed uncle?

The uncle stands for the aunt.

No aunts, either.

Well, what was the uncle looking for?
What was missing?

What, indeed?

Everything upside down, sir.

Maybe your wife lost something.

Perhaps her red nightgown.

Or maybe you lost something.

When you were living in Vito,
something you lost, something stolen?

In those days?
Nothing to lose, nothing to steal.

Then there's the French part.

And the uncle who isn't an uncle.

This is really interesting.

An impossible dream code.

Suppose we try this, sir.

What's the French word for "uncle"?

That would be "oncle."

And "my uncle" would be "mon oncle."

Exactly, "mon oncle."

Mon oncle, mon oncle.

That sounds like
the word for "monocle."

Doesn't it, sir?

Far-fetched, Lieutenant.

Mrs. Barsini's nightmare,
the thing that frightened her so much,

could that have something to do with
the man in the photograph in Vito's bar,

the man with the monocle?

That would be Harry Chudnow?

Your position, please.

- Oh, sorry.
- Louise hardly knew Harry.

Oh, I didn't know that.

Well, it's only the first dream, sir.
Maybe next time we'll have better luck.

That is, if you're still interested.

Well, like Mrs. Columbo,
I'm fascinated.

Lieutenant Columbo?

Yes, sir.

They said you wanted
to talk to a lifeguard.

You knew Mrs. Barsini,
the lady that used to swim here?

Sure. Used to, uh...
Used to see her here all the time.

Good swimmer?

Good enough.

Good enough for what?

Good enough to pass the lifeguard test
the same time I did.

What do you think of her drowning?

Beats me, sir.

Yeah.

Beats me, too. Thank you.

Louise!
Come and be a wife to me.

I'm only your first wife, Max.
Vanessa's your wife now.

She was a cheerful one, Louise.
Very sure of herself.

Confident.

How can anyone be
confident about anything?

Who knows what
the next minute will bring?

No, I only mean that
Louise was a calm person.

If you don't mind my saying so, ma'am,

I think I can say
the same thing about you.

If Louise had a lover,
Lieutenant, it's news to me.

You mean, she never mentioned it?

She was the kind of person
that kept everything bottled up.

You know, inside, like me.

Excuse me, ma'am, but you don't
strike me as being that kind of person.

With me, there's always a storm inside.

For Max, it's always
the same weather report.

Unsettled, maybe tornadoes.

And Mrs. Barsini,
did she send out weather reports?

From Vanessa, earthquakes.
She looks for trouble.

I'm a terrible person
if there's a towel on the floor.

I'm not a complainer, even though
I've got plenty to complain about.

No one hears a word out of me.

About what, ma'am?

About my suffering.

Even poor Louise said I suffer,
living with Max, that floozy model of his.

I've got plenty of pain.
I keep it locked away.

Bottled up.

No one knows.

You would never tell.

Wild horses couldn't get it out of me.

Begging your pardon, ma'am,

but a pretty young thing in
Mrs. Barsini's house,

posing nude for her husband.

A bit of jealousy is not
that far out of line.

Louise wasn't jealous.

Well, ma'am, Louise,
she wasn't his wife anymore.

Poor Louise. I never dreamed
she had a secret lover.

Do you think her psychiatrist
would have made her happy?

Psychologist, ma'am.

Thanks for meeting me, Doc.

You wanna look at the ocean? Hmm?

Come on, look at the ocean.

Look at the ocean.

Don't you wanna see the ocean?

He loves the ocean.

How do you know he loves the ocean?

Well, Dog and me,
kind of sense each other's feelings.

Might be nice if you could sense
my feelings, Lieutenant.

Why do I feel so
conspiratorial about all this?

About what, sir?

Surreptitious meetings with the police,

digging out the extra dream tapes,

walking an ethical tightrope.

I don't know if this is the right thing
to do with Louise's nightmares.

Well, sir,

under these circumstances,
the District Attorney,

he assures me
it's all perfectly ethical.

Opinions from the District Attorney,

sifting through Louise's nightmares.

All this for a drowning?

What's this all about, Lieutenant?

We're not supposed to say,

as much as I'd like
to tell you about it.

All right, Lieutenant, here.

Lord knows what you're gonna find in
there except more blood and violence.

Let me know if there's
anything else you need.

Any problems I can be
of help with for Louise's sake.

Oh, well, there is one problem, sir.

Yes?

It's a sort of personal problem.

Yeah?

I was wondering why my dog bit me.

Your dog bit you?

First time in his life.

Well, what were the circumstances?

I took him to a basset hound picnic,
and he bit me.

At the picnic?

At the picnic.

Was this his first picnic?

First picnic, sir.

Lot of other basset hounds there?

Yes, sir.

Jealousy.

He didn't wanna share me.

- Right.
- He didn't like all that competition around.

Jealousy. I should've known that.

You know, out at the Barsini house,
that place, that's full of jealousy.

But I never thought of the dog.

He just wanted to punish you.

He's a very good dog, but he has to
know that he's number one.

Well, thank you very much
for the advice, Doctor,

and thank you for the tapes.

And if anything ever comes of this,

I promise you, you will be
the first to know.

Keep in touch.

Vanessa!

Vanessa, my darling.

Yes, Max?

You have never looked lovelier.

Thank you, Max.

About Julie, my pet.

Is Julie your pet?

Please, be a good girl,
try to get along.

Why should I?

For my sake.

For Louise's sake.

Max, don't you get it?

I want that barefoot tootsie
out of my house!

So now it's your house?

"Every man lives in his wife's house."

Every man is entitled
to a little consideration.

I won't have this damn catfighting.

Forget it, Max.

You're impossible.

I won't have this. Enough.

Here I am again, sir.

Consider, Lieutenant, how unfair it is
for a man to live with one woman.

Unfair to the man.
He wants her to be all things,

comforting mother, erotic companion,
manager of his life.

Unfair to the woman, for,
in the end, she must fail him.

Three women, at least one has
the hope of happiness.

But what about two women,
Mr. Barsini, if I may ask?

Two women, no good.

I wouldn't recommend it.

Two is no good.

Louise's nightmare, Lieutenant.

Well, I brought the second dream,
Mr. Barsini.

It's a very puzzling dream.

It was the middle of the night.

Again, I heard the pounding
at the door.

In this dream, it's Max.

He's very angry
because he's lost his key,

and he's ravenously hungry.

I follow him upstairs.

I see he's opening packages
from the refrigerator,

like butcher meat packages,
pieces of meat.

But he doesn't want them.
He throws them into the sink.

Then I see what he's looking for.
Strawberries and blueberries, I think.

He puts the berries in a large glass,
like a glass bowl.

He sits at the table
and begins to eat the berries.

He wants me to join him,
to sit with him, eat with him.

But in the sink, I see that
one of the meat packages is fluttering.

I pull the paper away.

It's a hand, it's moving.

I scream to Max that it's still alive.

But now Max is angry with me.
He smashes the glass on the table.

I'm still screaming when I wake up
from the dream about the hand.

I wonder what we can make
out of that one, sir.

Truly terrifying dream, Lieutenant.

Do you mind if I record our thoughts?

Not at all, you first.

Uh, well, sir,
she dreamt that you forgot your keys.

I still forget my keys.

And forgetting something,
that's the same as losing it.

Or never having it.

But never having what, sir?

Money, cuts of meat
that we couldn't afford.

That's what Louise had on her mind.

Oh, meat and blood, sir,
that's violent, that's a symbol.

Dr. Hammer, he was quite sure
about that part.

These symbols can mean anything,

broken glass,
my taste for strawberries.

And blueberries, sir.

Blueberries?
No, I never liked them.

Well, the broken glass part,
I think that's easy.

What I got here, they're glasses.

Now, just this part,

half the glasses.

A glass.

Are we getting back to
the man with the monocle, sir?

It's a dream world, Lieutenant.

Everything under the surface.

You're searching for meaning,
but you'll never find it.

Well, maybe that's the point, sir.

I don't understand.

That explains the berries,
what you just said.

Everything underneath the surface.

Strawberries, blueberries, berries...

Maybe that's the dream language
for the word "bury,"

like when you bury something
underneath the surface.

But what got buried, sir?

My patience, Lieutenant.

Your portrait bores me.

It's become grotesque,

like this totally pointless dream game
that leads everywhere and goes nowhere.

I'm not a painting machine.
Good day, Lieutenant.

... a dream world, Lieutenant.

Everything under the surface.

You're searching for meaning,
but you'll never find it.

... a dream world, Lieutenant.

Everything under the surface.

You're searching for meaning,
but you'll never find it.

... a dream world, Lieutenant.

Everything under the surface.

You're searching for meaning,
but you'll never find it.

Vanessa?

What?

Can we talk a little bit?

Max wants us to get along.

Why should we?

Clearly, we don't like each other.

Cheers.

What do you want out of all this?

Just to be happy.

Oh.

I used to wanna be happy.

What happened?

Max.

I learned three big things
since I married Max.

Only three?

One, it's nice to live at the beach.

Two, I can't cook cioppino
worth a damn.

And three, there are more
important things in life than happiness.

Much more important things, big things.

Name one.

Love.

Same things.

Love is happiness.

Right.

Name another one.

Another what?

A big thing that happiness is
more important than.

You mean a bigger thing than
what happiness is more important.

Whatever. Name one.

I can't.

Why not?

Life is too hard.

I'm an orphan.
Life is very hard for orphans.

- You think that's tough?
- Yeah.

I'm a double orphan.

I was adopted,

and then my adopted folks,
they died, too.

Double orphan.

That's terrible.

We have to think about Max.

His happiness.

His cioppino.

His work.

His needs.

What about us?

Now you're talking.

I got her right here,
ready for you, Lieutenant.

Barsini, L.

You like doing homicide, Lieutenant?

Sure, why not?
It's nice, clean work.

Now, you take the robbery boys.
Safes and lofts! Oh, boy.

You wouldn't believe some of
the miserable places those boys gotta go.

I gotta check this picture.

You got paint on your sleeve.

I know, thank you very much.

You know, hanging over
bodies all the time,

nothing but bodies all day long,

you might as well have
gone into medicine.

Oh, not me.

No, I prefer homicide.
Medical doctors...

I had an uncle,
he was a medical doctor.

The only people ever came
to see him were sick people,

sick people with complaints.

People got better,
he never heard from them.

Not even a post card.

As soon as they got sick,
then they knew his number.

What kind of life is that?
Always complaining.

You know what that is?

What is it?

Gonna try and find out.
Nice talking with you.

You, too.

Oh, Lieutenant, your file.

Oh, thank you.

Vanessa? Julie?

What is this?

Oh, hello, Max.

Julie, dear?

Yes, Vanessa.

If you'll ask Max to help with the bags,
I'll open the trunk.

- Of course.
- Thank you.

It's nothing.

- Would you mind, Max?
- Mind what?

The bags outside.

What are you doing?

Vanessa is leaving you, Max.

Leaving?

Leaving how? What leaving?

I don't believe this!

He doesn't believe
you're leaving him, Vanessa.

I forbid this.

You know your trouble, Max?
All you want is all there is.

You're like a swollen houseguest
who eats up all the food.

And while the rest of us go hungry,

you complain about heartburn.

Madness.

Where does she get such madness?

Poor, sensitive Max.

Please try and accept this
in the spirit in which it is offered.

You can go to hell.

Good, out.

Now you show yourself.

Go, out.

Now, for the first time, you finally
give me what I've always wanted.

Julie, my pet.

Finally we have peace,
finally we have each other.

Darling, Max, let me tell you
everything that's in my heart.

Out!

Ingrate! Tramp!

Model!

Mr. Barsini, sir?

I'm ready to try again, if you are.

It seems to be a time for
the closing of painful relationships.

Even ours, Lieutenant.

A misbegotten pair, the betrayed artist,
the uninvited policeman.

Well, Mr. Barsini, all this,
speaking just for myself,

has been a very great privilege.

Your portrait completed,
I'll no longer be available to you.

Not even to discuss
my wife's nightmares.

There's only one more, sir.

Who knows what this one will bring.

This dream, I really don't
want to talk about it.

My hands are still shaking.

It begins again with
the knocking at the door.

This time, it's I who's knocking.

The door is locked. I can't get in.

But suddenly, the door is opened.

I also know that something
frightening is about to happen.

Still, I have to go up the stairs.

I find Max at the kitchen table,

holding a man's pocket watch
over a cup of tea.

He seems to laugh at me as he says,

"There's something wrong
with the works."

Then he drops the watch into the tea.

But when he turns the cup over,
there's nothing there.

Then I realize
it will all end very badly.

He seems to be trying
to comfort me as he tells me...

he knows what happened to the watch.

But when he opens
the door to the stairs,

they lead down into a dark basement.

Someone's been digging there,

and I see a body laying
face down in the dirt.

I remain on the stairs,
too frightened to go any further.

Max turns the body over.
I know the face, I know.

The watch is hidden in his eye.

I know I'm screaming
when Max takes a pick,

and swings at the body.

I'm still screaming
when I see the broken glass.

Perhaps, if I ever have the courage
to leave Max, the dreams will stop.

What do you suppose
she could've meant by that, sir?

Impenetrable.

But not unlike Louise to blame me
even for her nightmares.

And we always end up
back with that monocle.

The man with the watch in his eye.

A symbol of time.
Louise's lost youth.

But could the watch mean
you were losing time, sir?

And when you said there was
something wrong with the works,

maybe you were referring to your works,
your works as an artist.

Very good, Lieutenant.

And that digging in the basement,
something buried, sir?

Under the surface, like you said.

And the way that man in the monocle,
that Harry Chudnow,

keeps turning up in
all your wife's dreams.

Did I tell you that I found an old
newspaper clipping about Harry Chudnow?

No, you did not.

May I move, sir?

Please.

Got a copy of it right here, somewhere.

I know I brought it.
Gee, maybe I didn't.

Oh, no, here it is.

If you'd care to read that, sir,
out loud.

"For the second time in six months,"

"international art dealer Harry Chudnow
is being sued by a local artist..."

"for failure to report the full proceeds
from sale of the artist's works."

Yes, Harry was something of a rascal.

Did he do something
like that to you, sir?

Cheat you out of your work?

Harry breathed, Harry cheated,
Harry was Harry.

I think you killed Harry Chudnow.

At least, that's what
your wife's dreams seem to say.

Bravo. The policeman unmasked.

To transpose a fragment of my wife's
sleep into a murder mystery?

I hardly think so.

Poor Harry, off to Paris, off to Rome.

Harry vanishes.

If we dug up Vito's basement, sir,

what do you think we'd find?

Do you think Vito could have
killed Harry so long ago?

I recall he was behind in his bar bill.

Well, that's not important, sir.

There's no way I can make that case,
not with dreams for evidence.

We seem to be quite
finished here, Lieutenant.

Can I see?

You may be shocked.

Well, I doubt that, Mr. Barsini.

I'm not even shocked
that you murdered your wife.

Lieutenant Columbo, my wife died
in an accidental drowning,

while I was painting
a picture at Vito's Bar.

Like this one, sir?

You seem to be making
some unfathomable point.

Well, we can get back to it later.

Those brushes, are they fluffy?

You see that, Mr. Barsini?

That's a fluffy brush.

Yes, I'm glad you agree.

Indeed, a clean, fluffy sable brush.

Is it significant?

Well, the day that you painted
the painting at Vito's,

what would you say, sir,

if I asked you how you
cleaned these brushes?

I would confess to cleaning them
in brush cleaner, Lieutenant.

But when the cleaner evaporated,

the bristles, they would dry all stiff.

Cleaner to wash out the brushes,

water to wash out the cleaner,

thereby producing a fluffy brush.

Where'd you get the water?

If you visit Vito's storeroom,
you will discover a sink.

You might also detect
a faucet to provide water.

But I turned on the water, sir.

That hadn't been on
for months, maybe years.

I turned on that faucet.
The pipes were clogged.

Nothing came up but sludge.

Is that what you used
to clean your brushes?

I remember now. That day,
on completing my labors,

I was primarily interested
in home and bed.

I washed my brushes the next morning.

Well, that would explain
why you didn't use the sink.

Thank you for reminding me,
Lieutenant.

But what about your shoes?

My shoes?

Your shoes, sir.

It's the way you paint, Mr. Barsini,
very strong strokes.

Paint all over your shoes.

And here, on the floor, by the easel.

You see all the paint?

But at Vito's,
up where you painted the picture,

no paint on the floor at all.
Not a drop.

I see. The case of the missing paint.

It's all in the technique, Lieutenant.

Finer strokes.
Control replaces passion.

No paint on Vito's floor.

Come over by the light, sir.

I want you to see something.

Oh, by the way, sir, did you see
your wife that day on the beach?

No, I did not.

I told you,
neither on nor off the beach.

You did say that, yes.

Excuse me for showing you this, sir.

It's a police photo of
your wife, Mrs. Barsini.

I'd rather not see this, Lieutenant.

It's just a brief look, sir.

See how her makeup ran?
It's from the ocean.

The eye makeup, the lipstick smeared.

But the lipstick isn't lipstick.

Not according to the lab boys.

They say it's paint.

And you said you didn't see
your wife all that day.

But that red paint at
the corner of her mouth,

that's your special red,
that's Barsini red.

Just like on this rag, sir.

The same rag that you carried
in your tote bag here.

Do you see the red?

The lab boys even found her lipstick
on this rag.

And the paint from this rag
on her mouth.

So you must've been there
before she drowned, sir.

You had to be there.

No doubt, the lab boys received
encouragement from a certain policeman.

Well, the lab boys did find traces
of paint cleaner on this rag.

This is very dangerous stuff.

That's like ether.
That'd knock a person out.

That what the lab boys say?

No, sir. That's what the can says.

So I'd have to tell the jury
that you murdered her.

Made her unconscious
and drowned her,

because she knew
how you killed Harry Chudnow.

And after all these years,

you were still afraid of that,
afraid she'd tell about it.

You were even afraid of her dreams.

You've been very enterprising,
Lieutenant.

Still, the day Louise drowned,

Vito and I would have to tell the jury...

that I was painting at Vito's Bar.

You mean, Vito saw everything?

He saw everything there was to see.

Well, he couldn't have seen this.

You removing the blank canvas.

There's your bar painting, sir.

It's that dream language again.

Everything under the surface,
like you said.

Would that mean the painting
under the surface?

I say you painted it earlier,
someplace else.

Already painted when you got there,

so you could go out the fire escape
and do what you had to do.

You could make the argument.

I'm sure you are.

Lieutenant,

those last painful moments
with Louise,

what if I had chosen a clean rag?

Well, sir, that first day on the beach,
it was the contact lenses.

One in and one out.

That question had to be answered.

Even with a clean rag,
I would've kept digging.

It's like you, sir,
you have to finish your painting.

We both have to finish our work.

May I see it now?

Are you quite sure you want to?

Well, I'll take the chance.

As you please.

Lieutenant,

what do you think?

It's very nice, sir.

I think you've been teasing me.

In the end, the hand paints
what the eye sees.

Do you think I could show
that to Mrs. Columbo?

With my compliments.

Do I really look like that?