Original subtitles

MAN ON RADIO: Men, are you over 40?

When you wake up in the morning, do you feel tired and rundown?

Do you have that listless feeling?

(CHANGES STATION)

(MUSIC PLAYING)

(ALARM RINGING)

(CHILDREN CHATTERING)

(PHONE RINGING)

Jefferies.

GUNNISON: Congratulations, Jeff.

For what?

For getting rid of that cast.

Who said I was getting rid of it?

This is Wednesday.

Seven weeks from the day you broke your leg. Yes or no?

Gunnison, how did you ever get to be such a big editor with such a small memory?

Thrift, industry and hard work.

And catching the publisher with his secretary.

Did I get the wrong day?

No.

No, wrong week.

Next Wednesday I emerge from this plaster cocoon.

That's too bad, Jeff.

Well, I guess I can't be lucky every day.

Forget I called.

Yeah, I sure feel sorry for you, Gunnison.

Must be rough on you thinking of me wearing this cast for another whole week.

That one week is gonna cost me my best photographer

and you a big assignment.

Where?

There's no point in even talking about it.

Oh, come on, come on. Where?

Kashmir.

Got a code tip from the bureau chief this morning.

The place is about to go up in smoke.

What did I tell you? Didn't I tell you that's the next place to watch?

You did.

Okay. When do I leave? Half-hour? Hour?

With that cast on? You don't.

Stop sounding stuffy.

I can take pictures from a jeep or a water buffalo, if necessary.

You're too valuable to the magazine for us to play around with.

I'll send Morgan or Lambert.

Morgan or Lambert. That's fine.

I get myself half-killed for you,

and you reward me by stealing my assignments.

I didn't ask you to stand in the middle of that automobile racetrack.

You asked for something dramatically different. You got it.

So did you. Goodbye, Jeff.

Now wait a minute, Gunnison. You've got to get me out of here.

Six weeks sitting in a two-room apartment

with nothing to do but look out the window at the neighbors.

Bye, Jeff.

No, Gunnison, I. . .

If you don't pull me out of this swamp of boredom,

I'm gonna do something drastic.

Like what?

"Like what?" I'm gonna get married.

And then I'll never be able to go anywhere.

It's about time you got married,

before you turn into a lonesome and bitter old man.

Yeah, can't you just see me?

Rushing home to a hot apartment

to listen to the automatic laundry and the electric dishwasher

and the garbage disposal and the nagging wife.

Jeff, wives don't nag anymore, they discuss.

Is that so? Is that so?

Well, maybe in the high-rent district they discuss.

In my neighborhood, they still nag.

Yeah? Well, you know best. I'll call you later, Jeff.

Yeah, have some good news the next time, huh?

Good morning. I said, "Good morning !"

Oh, good morning.

Say, I wouldn't dig so deep if I were you.

You're giving them far too much water.

Why don't you shut up?

Well !

I do declare.

New York State sentence for a Peeping Tom is six months in the workhouse.

Oh, hello, Stella.

And they got no windows in the workhouse.

You know, in the old days, they used to put your eyes out with a red-hot poker.

Any of those bikini bombshells you're always watching worth a red-hot poker?

Oh, dear. We've become a race of Peeping Toms.

What people ought to do is get outside their own house and look in for a change.

Yes, sir.

How's that for a bit of homespun philosophy?

Reader's Digest, April, 1 939.

Well, I only quote from the best. Yeah.

You don't have to take my temperature this morning.

Quiet. See if you can break 1 00.

You know, I should have been a gypsy fortune-teller

instead of an insurance-company nurse.

I got a nose for trouble. Can smell it ten miles away.

You heard of that market crash in '29? I predicted that.

(MUMBLING) Just how did you do that, Stella?

Oh, simple.

I was nursing a director of General Motors.

"Kidney ailment," they said. "Nerves," I said.

Then I asked myself, "What's General Motors got to be nervous about?"

"Overproduction," I says. "Collapse."

When General Motors has to go to the bathroom 1 0 times a day,

the whole country's ready to let go.

You know, Stella, in economics,

a kidney ailment has no relationship to the stock market.

None whatsoever.

Crashed, didn't it?

I can smell trouble right here in this apartment.

First you smash your leg, then you get to looking out the window,

see things you shouldn't see. Trouble.

I can see you in court now,

surrounded by a bunch of lawyers in double-breasted suits.

You're pleading. You say, "Judge, it was only a little bit of innocent fun.

"I love my neighbors, like a father."

And the judge says, "Well, congratulations.

"You've just given birth to three years in Dannemora."

Right now I'd welcome trouble, you know.

You've got a hormone deficiency.

How can you tell from a thermometer?

Those bathing beauties you've been watching

haven't raised your temperature one degree in a month.

Here we go.

One more week.

No, I think you're right. I think there is gonna be trouble around here.

I knew it.

Ooh !

Do you ever heat that stuff?

Gives your circulation something to fight.

Oh, I see.

What kind of trouble?

Lisa Fremont.

You kidding?

She's a beautiful young girl, and you're a reasonably healthy young man.

She expects me to marry her.

That's normal.

I don't want to.

That's abnormal.

I just. . . I'm not ready for marriage.

Every man's ready for marriage when the right girl comes along.

And Lisa Fremont is the right girl for any man with half a brain

who can get one eye open.

She's all right.

What'd you do, have a fight? No.

Father loading up the shotgun?

What?

Please, Stella.

It's happened before, you know.

Some of the world's happiest marriages

have started "under the gun," as you might say.

No, she's just not the girl for me.

Yeah, she's only perfect.

She's too perfect. She's too talented. She's too beautiful. She's too sophisticated.

She's too everything but what I want.

Is what you want something you can discuss?

What? It's very simple, Stella.

She belongs to that rarefied atmosphere of Park Avenue, you know.

Expensive restaurants and literary cocktail parties.

People with sense belong wherever they're put.

Can you imagine her traveling around the world with a camera bum

who never has more than a week's salary in the bank?

If she was only ordinary.

You never gonna get married?

I'll probably get married one of these days,

but when I do, it's gonna be to someone who thinks of life

not just as a new dress and a lobster dinner

or latest scandal.

I need a woman who's willing to. . . Hold it.

Who's willing to go anywhere and do anything and love it.

So the honest thing for me to do is just call the whole thing off.

Let her find somebody else.

Yeah, I can hear you now.

"Get out of my life, you perfectly wonderful woman.

"You're too good for me."

Look, Mr. Jefferies, I'm not an educated woman,

but I can tell you one thing.

When a man and a woman see each other and like each other,

they ought to come together, wham, like a couple of taxis on Broadway,

and not sit around analyzing each other like two specimens in a bottle.

There's an intelligent way to approach marriage.

Intelligence.

Nothing has caused the human race so much trouble as intelligence.

(SCOFFS) Modern marriage.

No, we've progressed emotionally.

Baloney.

Once it was, "See somebody, get excited, get married."

Now it's, "Read a lot of books, fence with a lot of four-syllable words,

"psychoanalyze each other

"until you can't tell the difference between

"a petting party and a civil service exam."

People have different emotional levels. . .

When I married Myles, we were both a couple of maladjusted misfits.

We are still maladjusted misfits, and we have loved every minute of it.

Well, that's fine, Stella.

Now, would you fix me a sandwich, please?

Yes, I will.

And I'll spread a little common sense on the bread.

Lisa's loaded to her fingertips with love for you.

I got two words of advice for you. Marry her.

She pay you much?

Oh !

There.

Here's the key. Thank you.

Well, if you want anything, just ring.

Honey. Come on.

Got to carry you over the threshold.

Window shopper.

(PIANO PLAYING)

(WOMAN SINGING)

How's your leg?

It hurts a little.

And your stomach?

Empty as a football.

And your love life?

Not too active.

Anything else bothering you?

Mmm-hmm.

Who are you?

Reading from top to bottom, Lisa

Carol

Fremont.

Is this the Lisa Fremont who never wears the same dress twice?

Only because it's expected of her.

It's right off the Paris plane. Do you think it'll sell?

That depends on the quote, you know. Let's see now.

There's the airplane ticket over and import duties, hidden taxes, profit markup. . .

A steal at $1 , 1 00.

Eleven hundred?

They ought to list that dress on the stock exchange.

Why, we sell a dozen a day in this price range.

Who buys them, tax collectors?

Even if I had to pay, it would be worth it. Just for the occasion.

Why, is something big going on somewhere?

It's going on right here. It's a big night.

It's just an old run-of-the-mill Wednesday. The calendar's full of them.

It's opening night of the last depressing week of L. B. Jefferies in a cast.

Well, I haven't noticed a big demand for tickets or anything.

That's because I bought out the house.

You know, this cigarette box has seen better days.

I picked that up in Shanghai, which has also seen better days.

It's cracked and you never use it. It's too ornate.

I'm sending up a plain, flat, silver one with just your initials engraved.

That's no way to spend your hard-earned money.

Well, I wanted to.

Oh !

What would you think of starting off with dinner at '21 '?

You have, perhaps, an ambulance downstairs?

No, better than that. '21 .'

Thank you for waiting, Carl. The kitchen's right there on the left.

Oh, I'll take the wine.

Good evening, Mr. Jefferies. Carl.

Just put everything in the oven, Carl, on low.

Yes, madam. Let's open the wine now.

JEFF: All right.

It's a Montrachet.

A great big glassful. There's a corkscrew right over there.

Here, I'll do it.

Big enough?

Yeah, they're fine.

I can't think of anything more boring or tiresome than what you've been through,

and the last week must be the hardest. Let me, sir.

All right.

Yeah, I want to get this thing off and get moving.

Well, I'm going to make this a week you'll never forget.

Fine, thanks.

Just a minute, Carl.

This will take care of the taxi as well.

Thank you, Miss Fremont.

Have a pleasant dinner, Mr. Jefferies.

All right. Good night.

Good night.

(SIGHS) What a day I've had.

Are you tired?

Not a bit.

I was all morning in a sales meeting,

then I had to dash to the Waldorf for a quick drink with Madame Dufresne,

who's just over from Paris with some spy reports.

And then I had to go to '21' and have lunch with the Harper's Bazaar people.

And that's when I ordered dinner.

Then I had two fall showings 20 blocks apart.

Then I had to have a cocktail with Leland and Slim Hayward.

We're trying to get his new show.

And then I had to dash back and change.

Well, now, tell me. Tell me. Now, what was Mrs. Hayward wearing?

Oh, she looked wonderfully cool. She did.

She had on the most divine Italian hand-print

mousseline de soie. . . Oh, Italian?

Oh, you. Italian. Imagine.

To think I planted three nice items in the columns about you today.

You did?

You can't buy that kind of publicity.

I know.

Someday you may want to open up a studio of your own here.

How would I run it from, say, Pakistan?

Jeff. . .

Isn't it time you came home? You could pick your assignment.

I wish there was one I wanted.

Make the one you want.

You mean leave the magazine? Yes.

For what?

For yourself and me.

I could get you a dozen assignments tomorrow.

Don't laugh. I could do it.

That's what I'm afraid of.

Can you see me driving down to the fashion salon in a jeep,

wearing combat boots and a three-day beard?

Wouldn't that make a hit?

I could see you looking very handsome and successful in a dark blue flannel suit.

Let's stop talking nonsense, shall we?

Hmm?

Guess I'd better start setting up for dinner.

MAN: (SINGING) To see you is to love you

And I see you everywhere

In the sunrise In the moon glow

Any place I look you're there

To see you is to want you

And I see you all the time

On a sidewalk In a doorway

On the lonely stairs I climb

Someday let me show you

How happy endings start

You'll find how well I know you

'Cause to know you at all

Is to know you by heart

To see you is to love you

And you're never out of sight

And I love you and I'll see you

In the same old dream

Tonight

Miss Lonelyheart.

At least that's something you'll never have to worry about.

Oh?

You can see my apartment from here, all the way up on 63rd Street?

No, not exactly, but we have a little apartment here

that's probably about as popular as yours.

You remember, of course, Miss Torso, the ballet dancer?

She's like a queen bee with her pick of the drones.

(ALL CHATTERING)

LISA: I'd say she's doing a woman's hardest job. Juggling wolves.

Thank you.

Well, she picked the most prosperous-looking one.

She's not in love with him or any of them.

Oh, how can you tell that from here?

You said it resembled my apartment, didn't you?

I hope they're cooked this time.

(INAUDIBLE)

(WOMAN CHATTERING)

(PIANO PLAYING)

Where's that wonderful music coming from?

Some songwriter over there in the studio apartment.

Wow!

He lives alone. Probably had a very unhappy marriage.

Oh, it's enchanting.

It's almost as if it were being written especially for us.

Hmm.

No wonder he's having so much trouble with it.

At least you can't say the dinner isn't right.

Lisa, it's perfect.

As always.

There can't be that much difference between people and the way they live.

We all eat, talk, drink, laugh, wear clothes.

Well, now look. . .

If you're saying all this because you don't want to tell me the truth,

because you're hiding something from me, then maybe I can understand.

I'm not hiding anything. It's just that. . .

It doesn't make sense.

What's so different about it here from over there or anyplace you go

that one person couldn't live in both places just as easily?

Some people can. Now, if you'll just let me. . .

What is it but traveling from one place to another, taking pictures?

It's just like being a tourist on an endless vacation.

Okay. Now that's your opinion.

You're entitled to it. Now, let me give you my side.

It's ridiculous to say that it can only be done

by a special, private little group of anointed people.

I made a simple statement, a true statement,

but I can back it up if you'd just shut up for a minute.

If your opinion is as rude as your manner, I don't think I care to hear it.

Oh, come on now. Simmer down.

I can't fit in here. You can't fit in there.

I mean, according to you, people should be born, live and die on the same spot!

Shut up!

Did you ever eat fish heads and rice?

Of course not.

Well, you might have to if you went with me.

Did you ever try to keep warm in a C-54 at 1 5,000 feet, 20 degrees below zero?

Oh, I do it all the time. Whenever I have a few minutes after lunch.

Did you ever get shot at? Did you ever get run over?

Did you ever get sandbagged at night

because somebody got unfavorable publicity from your camera?

Did you ever. . . Those high heels, they'll be great in the jungle.

And the nylons and those six-ounce lingerie.

Three. All right, three.

They'll make a big hit in Finland, just before you freeze to death.

Well, if there's one thing I know, it's how to wear the proper clothes.

Yeah, yeah.

Well, try and find a raincoat in Brazil, even when it isn't raining.

Lisa, in this job you carry one suitcase.

Your home is the available transportation.

You don't sleep very much. You bathe less.

And sometimes the food that you eat

is made from things that you couldn't even look at when they're alive.

Jeff, you don't have to be deliberately repulsive just to impress me I'm wrong.

Deliberately repulsive? I'm just trying to make it sound good.

You just have to face it, Lisa, you're not meant for that kind of a life.

Few people are.

You're too stubborn to argue with.

I'm not stubborn. I'm just truthful.

I know, a lesser man would have told me it was one long holiday,

and I would have been awakened to a rude disillusionment.

Oh, well now, wait a minute. Wait a minute.

If you want to get vicious on this thing, I'd be very happy to accommodate you.

No, I don't particularly want that.

So that's it?

You won't stay here, and I can't go with you.

It would be the wrong thing.

You don't think either one of us could ever change?

Right now it doesn't seem so.

I'm in love with you. I don't care what you do for a living.

I'd just like to be part of it somehow.

It's deflating to find out the only way I can be part of it

is to take out a subscription to your magazine.

I guess I'm not the girl I thought I was.

There's nothing wrong with you, Lisa.

You've got this town in the palm of your hand.

Not quite, it seems.

Goodbye, Jeff.

You mean good night.

I mean what I said.

Well, Lisa, couldn't we just. . .

Uh. . .

Couldn't we just keep things status quo?

Without any future?

When am I gonna see you again?

Not for a long time.

At least

not until tomorrow night.

(WOMAN SCREAMING)

(GLASS SHATTERS) WOMAN: Don't!

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

Hey! Rain.

Grab that. The rest of the blanket. Wait, I'll get the clock.

Oh, no!

(ALARM RINGING)

Put it in, now.

Pull on it.

Let me do it.

In you go.

(EXCLAIMS)

No, you can't come in. It's much too late.

No, no, not now. Get your foot out of the way. No, I said good night.

What's that supposed to be, ma'am?

It's called "Hunger."

You'd think the rain would have cooled things off.

All it did was make the heat wet.

That's it. That's it.

That's stiff one, right there. Right there.

You know, the insurance company would be much happier

if you'd sleep in bed at night instead of in that wheelchair.

How'd you know?

Eyes are all bloodshot.

Must have been watching out that window for hours.

Yeah, I was.

What are you gonna do if one of them catches you?

It depends which one.

Miss Torso, for example. . .

You keep your mind off her.

She sure is the "Eat, drink and be merry" girl.

Yeah, she'll wind up fat, alcoholic and miserable.

Yeah.

Speaking of misery, poor Miss Lonelyheart. She drank herself to sleep again, alone.

Poor soul. Oh, well.

Maybe one day she'll find her happiness.

Yeah, and some man will lose his.

Isn't there anybody in the neighborhood who could cast an eye in her direction?

I don't know.

It just might be that the salesman will be available soon.

Oh, him and his wife splitting up?

I just can't figure it.

He went out several times last night in the rain, carrying his sample case.

Well, he's a salesman, isn't he?

What would he be selling at 3:00 in the morning?

Flashlights.

Luminous dials for watches. House numbers that light up.

I don't think so. I don't think so.

I think he was taking something out of the apartment.

Uh-huh.

His personal effects.

He's gonna run out on her, the coward.

Yeah.

Sometimes it's worse to stay than it is to run.

Yeah, well, it takes a particularly low type of man to do a thing like that.

How about this morning? Any further developments?

The shades are all drawn in the apartment.

In this heat? Yeah.

Well, they're up now.

Get back! Get back!

Where do you want me to go?

Come on, get out of sight. Get out of sight.

What is it? What's the matter?

That salesman's looking out of his window. You see?

Get back! He'll see you.

I'm not shy. I've been looked at before.

That's no ordinary look.

That's the kind of look a man gives

when he's afraid somebody might be watching him.

(WHIMPERING)

Get away from there. Get away from there. He'll be after you.

Go on, into the house. Into the house.

(SHOOING)

Goodbye, Mr. Jefferies. See you tomorrow.

Uh-huh.

And don't sleep in that chair again.

Uh-huh.

"Uh-huh. Uh-huh."

Great conversationalist.

Stella.

Take those binoculars out of the case and bring them here, will you?

Trouble. I can smell it.

I'll be glad when they crack that cast, and I can get out of here.

Uh-huh.

(WOMAN WHISTLING)

(BARKING)

(WOMAN WHISTLING MELODY)

How far does a girl have to go before you'll notice her?

Well, if she's pretty enough, she doesn't have to go anywhere.

She just has to "be."

Well, ain't I?

Pay attention to me.

I'm not exactly on the other side of the room.

Your mind is. . .

And when I want a man, I want all of him.

Don't you ever have any problems?

I have one now.

So do I.

Tell me about it.

Why. . .

Why would a man leave his apartment three times on a rainy night with a suitcase,

and come back three times?

He likes the way his wife welcomes him home.

No, no. No, no.

No, no. Not this salesman's wife.

And why didn't he go to work today?

Homework. It's more interesting.

What's interesting about a butcher knife

and a small saw

wrapped in newspaper? Hmm?

Nothing, thank heaven.

Why hasn't he been in his wife's bedroom all day?

I wouldn't dare answer that.

Well, listen. I'll answer it, Lisa. There's something terribly wrong.

And I'm afraid it's with me.

What do you think?

Something too frightful to utter.

He went out a few minutes ago in his undershirt, hasn't come back yet.

That'd be a terrible job to tackle.

(PIANO PLAYING)

Just how would you start to cut up a human body?

Jeff, I'll be honest with you. You're beginning to scare me a little.

Jeff, did you hear what I said? You're beginning to scare. . .

Shh ! Shh !

He's coming back!

Jeff, if you could only see yourself!

What's the matter?

Sitting around looking out of the window to kill time is one thing,

but doing it the way you are, with binoculars and wild opinions

about every little thing you see, is diseased !

What, do you think I consider it recreation?

I don't know what you consider it,

but if you don't stop it, I'm getting out of here.

What's the. . .

What is it you're looking for?

I just want to find out what's the matter with the salesman's wife, that's all.

Does that make me sound like a madman?

What makes you think there's something the matter with her?

A lot of things. She's an invalid. She demands constant care.

Yet neither the husband or anybody else has been in to see her all day. Why?

Maybe she died.

Where's the doctor? Where's the undertaker?

She could be sleeping, under sedatives.

He's in there now. There's nothing to see.

There is something. . . I've seen it through that window.

I've seen bickering and family quarrels

and mysterious trips at night and knives and saws and ropes.

And now, since last evening, not a sign of the wife.

All right. Now you tell me where she is.

I don't know. What's she doing? Where is she?

Maybe he's leaving his wife. I don't know. I don't care!

Lots of people have knives and saws and ropes around their houses.

And lots of men don't speak to their wives all day.

Lots of wives nag and men hate them and trouble starts,

but very, very few of them end up in murder, if that's what you're thinking.

It's pretty hard for you to keep away from that word, isn't it?

You could see all that he did, couldn't you? Of course. . .

You could see because the shades were up

and he walked along the corridor and the street and the backyard.

I've seen him in the backyard, fixing the flowers. . .

Oh, Jeff, do you think a murderer would let you see all that?

That he wouldn't pull the shades down and hide behind them?

Just where he's being clever. He's being nonchalant about it.

And that's where you're not being clever.

A murderer would never parade his crime in front of an open window.

Why not?

Why, for all you know,

there's probably something a lot more sinister going on behind those windows.

Where?

Oh !

(CHUCKLES)

No comment.

Let's start from the beginning again, Jeff.

Tell me everything you saw

and what you think it means.

(PHONE RINGS)

Yeah?

LISA: The name on the second floor

rear mail box reads, "Mr. and Mrs. Lars."

That's L-A-R-S.

Lars Thorwald.

What's the number of the apartment house?

1 25 West 9th Street.

Thank you, dear.

Okay, chief. What's my next assignment?

Just go home.

All right, but what's he doing now?

He's just sitting in the living room in the dark.

Hasn't gone near the bedroom.

Now you go home and get some sleep.

Good night. Good night.

DOYLE: All right. What's it all about, Jeff?

Now look, Doyle, it's just something I can't tell you over the telephone.

You have to be here and see the whole setup.

Important, huh?

Well, it's probably nothing important at all.

It's just a little neighborhood murder, that's all.

Did you say "murder," Jeff?

Yes, as a matter of fact, I did say "murder."

Oh, come now.

My only thought was throwing a little business your way, that's all.

I figured a good detective would jump at the chance of something to detect.

I'm not working. What?

This happens to be my day off.

Well, I usually took my best pictures on my day off.

I'll drop by.

Okay, Doyle. All right. As soon as you can.

Bless your heart, Stella. Gee whiz, look at this.

I can't tell you what a welcome sight this is.

No wonder your husband still loves you.

The police. What?

You called the police.

Well, not exactly.

Not an official call. It's just an old friend of mine.

An old, ornery friend of mine.

Just where do you suppose he cut her up?

Of course. The bathtub.

That's the only place where he could have washed away the blood.

He better get that trunk out of there before it starts to leak.

WOMAN: Harry?

Look, look, Mr. Jefferies.

I thought Doyle would be here by the time the trunk left,

or I'd have called the police. Now we're gonna lose it.

Hold everything. Don't do anything foolish.

I'm just gonna get the name off that freight truck.

I'll keep an eye on the alley.

Long distance.

You didn't see the killing or the body. How do you know there was a murder?

Because everything this fellow's done has been suspicious.

Trips at night in the rain, and knives and saws and trunks with rope

and now this wife that isn't there anymore.

I admit it all has a mysterious sound. It could be any number of things.

Murder's the least plausible.

Doyle, don't tell me he's an unemployed magician,

amusing the neighborhood with his sleight of hand. Don't tell me that.

It's too obvious and stupid a way to commit murder.

In full view of 50 windows?

Then sit over there smoking a cigar,

waiting for the police to come and pick him up?

All right, Officer, do your duty. Go over and pick him up.

Jeff, you've got a lot to learn about homicide.

Why, morons have committed murder so shrewdly,

it's taken a hundred trained police minds to catch them.

That salesman wouldn't just knock his wife off after dinner

and toss her in the trunk and put her in storage.

I'll bet it's been done.

Most everything's been done, under panic.

This is a thousand-to-one shot.

He's still sitting around the apartment. That man's not panicked.

You think I made all this up?

Well, I think you saw something.

There's probably a very simple explanation for that.

For instance?

Wife took a trip.

His wife was sick in bed.

Yeah, so you told me.

Well, Jeff, I've got to run along.

I won't report this to the department. Let me poke into it a little on my own.

No sense in your getting a lot of ridiculous publicity.

Thank you.

We know the wife is gone, so I'll see if I can find out where.

Do that.

You had any headaches lately?

Not until you showed up.

It'll wear off, along with the hallucinations.

See you around.

(DOG WHINING)

Get along.

(DOG BARKING)

He has a six months' lease.

Used up a little more than five and a half months of it.

He's quiet, drinks, but not to drunkenness.

Pays his bills promptly with money earned as a costume jewelry salesman.

Wholesale.

Kept to himself. None of his neighbors got close to him or his wife.

Yeah, well, I think they missed their chance with her.

She never left the apartment. . .

Where is she? The icebox? . . .until yesterday morning.

What time? 6:00 a.m.

6:00 a.m.

I think that's about the time I fell asleep.

Too bad.

Thorwalds were leaving their apartment at just that time.

Feel a little foolish?

No, not yet.

How's your wife?

Oh, she's fine.

Who said they left then?

Who left where?

The Thorwalds, at 6:00 in the morning.

Oh, the building superintendent and two tenants.

Flat statements, no hesitation. They jived with the letter.

Thorwalds were on their way to the railroad station.

Well, now, Tom, how could anybody possibly guess that?

What, did they have signs on their luggage, saying, "Grand Central or bust?"

The superintendent met Thorwald on his way back.

Thorwald told him that he'd put his wife on a train to the country.

I see. I'd say this is a pretty convenient guy, this superintendent.

Have you checked his bank statements lately?

Huh?

Well, what good's his information?

It's a secondhand version of an unsupported story

by the murderer himself, Thorwald.

Now did anybody actually see the wife get on the train?

I hate to remind you,

but this all started because you said she was murdered.

Now, did anyone, including you, actually see her murdered?

What are you doing?

Are you interested in solving this case or in making me look foolish?

Well, if possible, both.

Well, then, do a good job of it.

Go over there and search Thorwald's apartment.

It must be knee-deep in evidence.

I can't do that.

Well, no, I don't mean right now, but when he goes out for a drink,

or a paper, or something. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

I can't do that, even if he isn't there.

What's he. . . Does he have a courtesy card from the police department, or something?

Now don't get me mad.

Not even a detective can walk into an apartment and search it.

If I were caught in there, they'd have my badge within 1 0 minutes.

All right. Make sure you don't get caught, that's all.

What? If you find something, you've got a murderer,

and they don't care anything about a couple of house rules.

If you don't find anything, the fellow's clear.

At the risk of sounding stuffy, I'd like to remind you of the Constitution

and the phrase, "Search warrant issued by a judge

"who knows his Bill of Rights verbatim."

He must ask for evidence.

Give him evidence.

Yeah, I can hear myself.

"Your Honor, I have a friend who's an amateur sleuth.

"Well, the other night after having a heavy dinner, he. . ."

He'd throw the New York State penal code right in my face.

And there's six volumes.

You know, by tomorrow morning there may not be any evidence left

over in that apartment. You know that.

It's a detective's nightmare.

What do you need before you can search?

Tell me. Now, what do you need?

Bloody footsteps leading up to the door?

One thing I don't need is heckling. You called me and asked for help.

Now you're behaving like a taxpayer.

How did we ever stand each other in that plane

for three years during the war?

I guess I'll go over to the railroad station and check on Thorwald's story.

Oh, forget about the story.

Find the trunk. Mrs. Thorwald's in it.

Oh, I almost forgot.

There was a postcard in Thorwald's mailbox. It was

mailed 3:30 yesterday afternoon from Merritsville.

That's 80 miles north of here.

Message went, "Arrived okay. Already feeling better.

"Love, Anna."

Oh. . .

Is that. . .

Anna. . . Is that who I think it is?

Mrs. Thorwald.

Oh, so anything you need, Jeff?

You might send me a good detective.

(SIGHS)

(WOMAN WHISTLING MELODY)

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

(CHATTERING)

WOMAN: (SINGING) Many dreams ago

I dreamed many dreams

Waiting for my true love

To appear

Though each night it seems

(BOTH CHATTERING) Someone filled my dreams

(CAR HORN BLARING) Still the face

That I kissed wasn't clear

So I let my heart dance

To many sweet refrains

But now just one song

And just one dream remains

That one song is you

And at last I know

You're the one I dreamed of

Many dreams ago

MRS. DOYLE: Hello? Hello, Miss Doyle?

Yes?

This is Jeff again. Has Tom come in yet?

Not yet, Jeff.

You mean you haven't even heard from him?

Not a word. Is it something really important, Jeff?

Yeah, I'm afraid it is, Tess.

I'll have him call the moment I hear from him.

No, no, don't bother to do that.

Just have him get over here as soon as he can.

Looks like Thorwald's pulling out tonight.

Who's Thorwald?

He'll know, he'll know.

And Thorwald's a man, Tess, don't worry.

(CHUCKLES) Good night, you idiot. Good night.

Long distance again.

(INAUDIBLE)

MAN: There's somebody at the door.

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

Hi. Hello.

Hello.

What'd you do to your hair?

Oh, well, I just sort of. . . Take a look at Thorwald.

He's getting ready to pull out for good. Look at him.

He doesn't seem to be in any hurry.

He's been laying out all his things on one of the beds.

Shirts, suits, coats, socks.

Even his wife's. . . That alligator handbag

his wife had on the bedpost. What about it?

He had it hidden in the dresser. At least, it was there.

He took it out, went to the telephone and made a long-distance call.

He had his wife's jewelry in the handbag.

Seemed worried about it.

Asked somebody's advice over the telephone.

Someone not his wife.

Well, I never saw him ask her for advice.

She volunteered plenty, but I never saw him ask her for any.

I wonder where he's going.

I don't know.

Suppose he doesn't come back again?

He'll be back. His things are still there.

Well, I guess it's safe to put on some lights now.

No, not yet!

Okay, you can turn it on now. He must have gone someplace to the right.

All day long, I've been trying to keep my mind on my work.

Thinking about Thorwald?

And you and your friend, Doyle.

Did you hear from him again, since he left?

Not a word.

He said he was gonna check the railroad station and the trunk.

He must be still at it.

Something on your mind?

It doesn't make sense to me.

What doesn't?

Women aren't that unpredictable.

Mmm.

Well, I can't guess what you're thinking.

A woman has a favorite handbag

and it always hangs on her bedpost, where she can get at it easily.

And then, all of a sudden, she goes away on a trip and leaves it behind. Why?

Because she didn't know she was going on a trip.

And where she's going, she wouldn't need the handbag.

Yes, but only her husband would know that.

And that jewelry.

Women don't keep their jewelry in a purse

getting all twisted and scratched and tangled up.

Well, do they hide it in their husband's clothes?

They do not.

And they don't leave it behind, either.

Why, a woman going anywhere but the hospital

would always take makeup, perfume and jewelry.

Put that over there. That's inside stuff, huh?

It's basic equipment.

And you don't leave it behind in your husband's drawer

in your favorite handbag.

Well, I'm with you, sweetie. I'm with you.

Tom Doyle has a pat answer for that, though.

That Mrs. Thorwald left at 6:00 a.m.

yesterday with her husband?

According to those witnesses.

Well, I have a pat rebuttal for Mr. Doyle.

That couldn't have been Mrs. Thorwald, or I don't know women.

What about the witnesses?

We'll agree they saw a woman,

but she was not Mrs. Thorwald.

That is, not yet.

Is that so?

Come here.

I'd like to see your friend's face when we tell him.

He doesn't sound like much of a detective.

Oh, don't be too hard on him. He's a steady worker.

I sure wish he'd show up.

Don't rush him. We have all night.

We have all what? Night.

I'm going to stay with you.

Well, you'll have to clear that with my landlord.

I have the whole weekend off.

That's very nice, but I just have one bed.

If you say anything else, I'll stay tomorrow night, too.

I won't be able to give you any pajamas.

You said I'll have to live out of one suitcase.

I'll bet yours isn't this small.

This is a suitcase?

Well, a Mark Cross overnight case, anyway.

Compact, but ample enough.

Looks like you packed in a hurry.

Look at this. Isn't that amazing?

I'll trade you. . .

My feminine intuition for a bed for the night.

I'll go along with that.

(PIANO PLAYING)

There's that song again.

(ALL CHATTERING)

Where does a man get inspiration to write a song like that?

Well, he gets it from the landlady once a month.

It's utterly beautiful.

I wish I could be creative.

Oh, sweetie, you are.

You have a great talent for creating difficult situations.

I do? Sure.

Like staying here all night uninvited.

Surprise is the most important element of attack.

And besides, you're not up on your private eye literature.

When they're in trouble, it's always their Girl Friday

who gets them out of it.

Is she the girl that saves them from the clutches

of the seductive showgirls

and the over-passionate daughters of the rich?

The same. That's the one, huh?

It's funny. He never ends up marrying her, does he?

That's strange.

Weird.

Why don't I slip into something more comfortable?

By all means.

I mean, like the kitchen and make us some coffee.

Oh, and some brandy, too, huh?

WOMAN: Harry.

Jeff. Hi.

(LISA HUMMING)

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

What else have you got on this man Thorwald?

Well, enough to scare me you wouldn't show up in time and we'd lose him.

Think he's getting out of here?

Look, he's got everything he owns

laid out over there in the bedroom, waiting to be packed.

I'm just warming some brandy. Mr. Doyle, I presume?

JEFF: Tom, this is Miss Lisa Fremont.

How do you do?

We think Thorwald's guilty.

Careful, Tom.

(PHONE RINGING)

Hello. MAN: Lieutenant Doyle.

Yeah, he's right here. For you.

Hello. Lieutenant Doyle, sir?

Speaking.

Yeah.

All right.

I see. Thank you. Goodbye.

Coffee will be ready soon.

Jeff, aren't you going to tell him about the jewelry?

Jewelry?

He's got his wife's jewelry hidden in his clothes in the bedroom over there.

You sure it belonged to his wife?

It was in her favorite handbag.

Mr. Doyle, that can only lead to one conclusion.

Namely?

That it was not Mrs. Thorwald that left with him yesterday morning.

You figured that out, eh?

Well, it's simply that women don't leave their jewelry behind

when they go on a trip.

Come on, come on, Tom.

Now you don't really need any of this information, do you?

As a matter of fact, I don't.

Lars Thorwald is no more a murderer than I am.

You mean to say you can explain everything that's gone on over there,

and is still going on?

No, neither can you.

That's a secret, private world you're looking into out there.

People do a lot of things in private they couldn't possibly explain in public.

Like disposing of their wives?

You get that idea out of your mind. It'll only lead in the wrong direction.

What about the knife and the saw?

Did you ever own a saw?

Well, at home in the garage I had. . .

How many people did you cut up with it?

Or with the couple of hundred knives you've probably owned in your lifetime?

Well, your logic is backward.

You can't ignore the wife disappearing and the trunk and the jewelry.

I checked the railroad station. He bought a ticket.

Ten minutes later, he put his wife on a train.

Destination, Merritsville. The witnesses are that deep.

That might have been a woman, but it couldn't have been Mrs. Thorwald.

That jewelry. . . Look, Miss Fremont.

That feminine intuition stuff sells magazines.

But in real life, it's still a fairy tale.

I don't know how many wasted years I've spent

tracking down leads based on female intuition.

All right. I take it you didn't find the trunk,

and all this is from an old speech you once made at the Policemen's Ball.

I found the trunk a half-hour after I left here.

I suppose it's normal for a man to tie up a trunk with heavy rope?

Well, if the lock is broken, yes.

And what did you find inside the trunk? A surly note to me?

Mrs. Thorwald's clothes.

Clean, well packed. Not stylish, but presentable.

Didn't you take them off to the crime lab?

I sent them on their merry and legal way.

Why, when a woman is taking a simple, short trip,

does she take everything she owns?

Let's let the female psychology department handle that one.

I would say it looked as if she wasn't coming back.

That's what's known as a family problem.

And if she wasn't coming back, why didn't he tell his landlord?

I'll tell you why he didn't tell his landlord. Because he was hiding something.

Do you tell your landlord everything?

I told you to be careful, Tom.

Look, if I'd have been careful piloting that reconnaissance plane during the war,

you wouldn't have had the chance to take the pictures

that won you a medal, and a good job, and fame and money.

What do you say we all sit down and have a nice, friendly drink, too? Hmm?

Forget all about this.

We can tell lies about the good old days during the war.

You mean you're through with the case?

There is no case to be through with, Miss Fremont.

How about that drink?

Yeah, I guess you're right.

Well, I think I better get home and get some sleep.

Cheers.

Not much of a snifter.

Oh, Jeff, if you need any more help. . .

Consult the Yellow Pages in your telephone directory.

Oh, I love funny exiting lines.

Who was that trunk addressed to?

Mrs. Anna Thorwald.

Well, then let's wait and find out who picks it up.

Oh, that telephone call. I gave them your number.

I hope you don't mind.

Depends on who they were.

The police at Merritsville.

They reported the trunk was just picked up

by Mrs. Anna Thorwald.

Don't stay up too late.

(PEOPLE SINGING)

Look. What?

JEFF: Yeah, he's kind of young, isn't he?

What are you doing?

(SHOUTING)

(BOTH ARGUING)

You know, much as I hate to give Thomas J. Doyle too much credit,

he might have gotten a hold of something when he said

that was pretty private stuff going on out there.

I wonder if it's ethical to watch a man with binoculars and a long-focus lens.

Do you. . . Do you suppose it's ethical,

even if you prove that he didn't commit a crime?

I'm not much on rear-window ethics.

Of course, they can do the same thing to me.

Watch me like a bug under a glass, if they want to.

Jeff, you know, if someone came in here, they wouldn't believe what they'd see.

What?

You and me with long faces.

Plunged into despair because we find out a man didn't kill his wife.

We're two of the most frightening ghouls I've ever known.

You'd think we could be a little bit happy that the poor woman is alive and well.

Whatever happened to that old saying, "Love thy neighbor"?

(JEFF CHUCKLES)

You know, I think I'll start reviving that tomorrow.

Yeah, I'll begin with Miss Torso.

Not if I have to move into an apartment across the way

and do the Dance of the Seven Veils every hour.

Show's over for tonight.

Preview of coming attractions.

Did Mr. Doyle think I stole this case?

No, Lisa, I don't think he did.

What do you think?

Well. . .

I will rephrase the question.

Thank you.

Do you like it?

Yes, I like it.

(WOMAN SCREAMING) Well. . .

(WOMAN SOBBING)

WOMAN 1 : What's the matter?

(CHATTERING)

MAN 1 : Somebody's hurt? WOMAN 2: It's the dog.

Something's happened to the dog.

MAN 2: What's the trouble? Somebody fall out a window?

MAN 3: See, it's a dog down there.

It's dead.

It's been strangled. The neck is broken.

Which one of you did it?

Which one of you killed my dog?

You don't know the meaning of the word "Neighbors."

Neighbors like each other, speak to each other,

care if anybody lives or dies.

But none of you do!

But I couldn't imagine any of you being so low

that you'd kill a little helpless, friendly dog.

The only thing in this whole neighborhood who liked anybody.

Did you kill him because he liked you?

Just because he liked you?

Let's go inside.

Come on. Let's go back in. It's only a dog.

You know, for a minute, that Tom Doyle almost had me convinced I was wrong.

But you're not? Look.

In the whole courtyard, only one person didn't come to the window.

Look.

Why would Thorwald want to kill a little dog?

Because it knew too much?

You think this is worth waiting all day to see?

LISA: Is he cleaning house?

He's washing down the bathroom walls.

Hmm.

Must have splattered a lot.

Well, why not? That's what we're all thinking.

He killed her in there, he has to clean up those stains before he leaves.

Oh, Stella, your choice of words.

STELLA: Nobody ever invented a polite word for a killing yet.

Lisa? Lisa, back there, on that shelf, there's a little yellow box. You see it?

Top one? Right on top, yeah.

Bring it. And bring me the viewer there.

I just got a. . .

Now, these are about two weeks old.

I hope I took something else besides leg art. Now which one. . .

What are you looking for? Here.

There's something, and if I'm right, I think I've solved a murder.

Mrs. Thorwald? No.

No, the dog.

Uh-huh.

I think I know why Thorwald killed that dog.

Here, now you take a look. Tell me what you see.

Now take it down.

Now look again. Now take it down. You see?

But it's just a picture of the backyard, that's all.

One important change. One important change.

Those flowers in Thorwald's pet flower bed.

You mean where the dog was sniffing around?

Where the dog was digging. Now look at those flowers.

Look, right? Those two yellow zinnias on this end

aren't as tall as they were.

Now, since when do flowers grow shorter in two weeks?

There's something buried there.

Mrs. Thorwald.

You haven't spent much time around cemeteries, have you?

Mr. Thorwald could scarcely put his wife's body

in a plot of ground about one foot square.

Unless, of course, he put her in standing on end,

and then he wouldn't need a knife and saw.

No, my idea is she's scattered all over town.

Leg in the East River. . . Oh, Stella, please!

No, no, no. There's something in there.

Those flowers have been taken out and put back in.

Maybe it's the knife and saw. Yeah.

Call Lieutenant Doyle.

No, let's wait.

Let's wait till it gets a little darker, and I'll go over there and dig them up.

You'll go? You won't dig anything up and get your neck broken.

No, no, we've. . .

We're not gonna call Doyle until I can produce Mrs. Thorwald's body.

What we've got to do is find a way to get into that apartment.

He's packing.

Uh-oh.

Here, get me a pencil.

Stella, get me some note paper. It's up here someplace.

There it is.

You did it, Thorwald. You did it.

Look out, Lisa. He's coming.

You never should have let her do it. If he ever. . .

Look. Look. Look.

(SIGHS)

Well, thank heaven that's over.

All right if I have a drink?

Sure, go ahead.

There's no doubt about it. He's leaving. It's just a question of when.

Mind if I use that portable keyhole?

Go ahead, just as long as you tell me what you're looking at.

STELLA: I wonder. . .

JEFF: Wonder what?

Miss Lonelyheart's just laid out something

that looks like rhodium tri-eckonal capsules.

You can tell from here?

I've handled enough of those red pills to put everybody in Hackensack

to sleep for the winter.

Well, does she have enough of them to. . .

No. It will make the rest easy to. . .

Wasn't that close?

What was his reaction. I mean, when he looked at the note?

Well, it wasn't the kind of an expression that would get him a quick loan at the bank.

Jeff, the handbag !

Suppose Mrs. Thorwald's wedding ring

is among the jewelry he has in that handbag?

Now, during the phone conversation he held up three rings.

One with a diamond, one with a big stone of some sort

and then just a plain gold band.

And the last thing she would leave behind would be a wedding ring.

Stella, do you ever leave yours at home?

The only way anybody could get that ring would be to chop off my finger.

Let's go down and find out what's buried in the garden.

Why not? I've always wanted to meet Mrs. Thorwald.

What are you two talking about? You got a shovel?

A shovel? Of course I don't have a shovel.

There's probably one in the basement.

Jeff, if you're squeamish, just don't look.

Squeamish? I'm not squeamish.

I just don't want you two to end up like that dog ended up. That's all.

Oh, you know, Miss Fremont, he might just have something there.

Just hold on. Here, take this.

No sense taking any chances in this thing.

Here, give me the phone book.

What for?

Maybe I can get him out of that apartment.

We only need a few minutes.

I'll see if I can get about 1 5 minutes.

How?

Thorwald.

Thorwald. . . Thorwald. . .

Chelsea 27099.

27099.

We scared him once, maybe we can scare him again.

Well, I guess I'm using that word "we" a little freely.

I mean, you're taking all the chances.

LISA: Shall we vote him in, Stella?

STELLA: Unanimously.

27099. Look out.

Chelsea.

Chelsea.

(PHONE RINGING)

Go on, pick it up, Thorwald.

Go on, you're curious.

You wonder if it's your girlfriend calling, the one you killed for.

Go on, pick it up.

THORWALD: Hello?

Did you get my note?

Well, did you get it, Thorwald?

Who are you?

I'll give you a chance to find out.

Meet me in the bar at the Albert Hotel.

Do it right away.

Why should I?

A little business meeting. . .

To settle the estate of your late wife.

I don't know what you mean.

Come on. Quit stalling, Thorwald, or I'll hang up and call the police.

I have only $1 00 or so.

That's a start.

I'm at the Albert now. I'll be looking for you.

Come on, Stella, let's go.

One of you keep an eye on this window.

If I see him coming back, I'll signal with a flashbulb.

WOMAN: This is the Doyle residence.

Hello, this is L. B. Jefferies speaking. I'm a friend of Mr. Doyle.

Who's this?

This is a babysitter.

Oh. Uh. . .

When do you expect them in?

Well, I'm hired till 1 :00. They went to dinner and maybe a nightclub.

I see.

If he calls in, would you have him get in touch with L. B. Jefferies right away?

I might have quite a surprise for him.

Well, do we have your number, Mr. Jefferies?

He has it. Good night.

Good night.

JEFF: Stella was wrong about Miss Lonelyheart.

(INAUDIBLE)

Lisa, what are you. . . Don't do. . .

Lisa, what are you doing? Don't go. . .

Come on, come on ! Get out of there!

She said ring Thorwald's phone the second you see him come back.

I'm gonna ring it right now!

Oh, no. Give her another minute.

MAN: All right, fellows, let's try it once from the beginning.

Miss Lonelyheart.

Oh, call the police!

WOMAN: Operator.

Get me the police, sixth precinct.

Yes, sir.

STELLA: Mr. Jefferies, the music stopped her.

What. . . Lisa!

Lisa!

Precinct 6, Sergeant Allgood.

Hello. Hello. Look, a man is assaulting a woman at 1 25 West 9th Street.

Second floor, at the rear. Make it fast!

Your name?

L. B. Jefferies.

Phone number?

Chelsea 25598.

(INAUDIBLE)

The door was open.

(CHATTERING)

I told you. . . Oh, no!

Let go of me! Jeff!

Oh, no!

LISA: Jeff! Jeff!

Jeff!

Lisa!

Stella, what do we do?

Jeff!

Jeff! STELLA: Well, here they come.

(SIGHS)

(INAUDIBLE)

STELLA: What's she trying to do? Why doesn't she turn him in?

She's a smart girl.

"Smart girl"? She'll get herself arrested.

It'll get her out of there, won't it?

Look, the wedding ring !

Turn off the light! He's seen us!

How long do you think he'll stay there?

Well, unless he's dumber than I think he is, he won't wait until his lease is up.

Get my billfold out of the drawer in the table there.

What do you need money for?

I'm gonna bail Lisa out of jail.

You know, you could leave her there till next Tuesday,

then you could sneak safely away as planned.

Yeah, let's see. $1 27.

How much do you need?

Well, this is first-offense burglary, that's about $250.

Lisa's handbag. Yeah.

How much does she have?

Fifty cents.

Here, take this.

Look, I got $20 or so in my purse.

What about the rest? What about the rest?

When those cops see Lisa, they'll even contribute.

Well, hurry up.

(PHONE RINGING)

Just a minute. Hurry up!

Jefferies.

DOYLE: All right. What is it now?

Doyle, I've got something really big for you.

Why did I have to return your call?

Look, Jeff! Don't louse up my night with another mad killer...

Listen to me! Listen to me! Lisa's in jail. She got arrested.

Your Lisa? My Lisa.

Boy, you should have seen her. She got into Thorwald's apartment.

But then he came back, and the only way I could get her out was to call the police.

I told you... I know you told me!

She went in to get evidence and she came out with evidence.

Like what? Like what?

Like Mrs. Thorwald's wedding ring. That's like what.

If that woman was alive, she'd be wearing that ring. Right?

A possibility. A possibility. It's a fact!

He killed a dog last night because the dog was scratching around in the garden.

You know why? Because he had something buried in that garden that the dog scented.

Like an old ham bone?

Look, I don't know what pet names Thorwald had for his wife,

but I'll tell you this,

all those trips at night with that metal suitcase,

he wasn't taking out his possessions,

because his possessions are still up in the apartment.

Perhaps it was old "ham bone."

Yeah, in sections.

And I'll tell you something else.

All the telephone calls he made were long distance, all right?

Now, if he called his wife long distance on the day she left,

after she arrived in Merritsville,

why did she write a card to him saying that she'd arrived in Merritsville?

Why did she do that?

Where'd they take Lisa?

Precinct 6.

I sent somebody over with the bail money.

Maybe you won't need it.