All language subtitles for Remington Steele s03e21 Steele Trying.eng

Mildred?
What's going on in there?

It's a client. Miss Holt's
trying to calm her down.

Oh, Mr. Steele-
You are Mr. Steele, aren't you?

Oh, without question, yes.
Uh, how can I help you, Miss-

Melnik. Bertha Melnik.

Well, what seems to be
the problem, Miss Melnik?

Actually, it's-
It's Mrs. Melnik...

and she thinks her husband, Fred,
is in some kind of trouble.

He gets phone calls
in the middle of the night.

He takes unexplained trips
to San Francisco.

I went through his bills.

He's been going
to all those fancy places.

Top of the Mark,
Marty's Restaurant, Alcatraz.

He's up there now,
probably running for his life.

Oh, dear, dear, dear.

Uh, would you excuse us
a moment, Mrs. Melnik.

- Miss Holt, can I have a word with you, please?
- Just-

Sounds like an errant husband doing
a little long-distance cheating on his wife.

Then again, maybe
he's in some real trouble.

You're not suggesting
we accept this case, are you?

Look at that poor woman.
I mean, she's half-crazed...

imagining all kinds of terrible
things happening to her husband.

It wouldn't hurt to take a quick run
up to San Francisco, check it out.

Obviously your mind's made up.

I'll have Mildred
make the reservations.

See if you can get a picture of Fred Melnik,
and pick me up at my place.

Mm-hmm.

Mwah! Excellent performance,
Bertha! Excellent!

Oh, you should've seen my
Blanche DuBois in Streetcar.

"I've always depended
on the kindness of strangers. "

The Orange County Community Players...

never seen anything like it.

Six curtain calls.

I knew when I auditioned you,
you were touched with greatness.

- Listen, can I ask you a question?
- Mm-hmm.

- What's this all about?
- Well, it's- It's rather involved, Bertha.

But put in its most succinct form...

whenever Miss Holt and I
have attempted to, uh...

steal away for a few private moments,
a case has always interfered.

So I thought it only fitting that a case
should take us away for an amorous interlude.

Oh, that's clever.

A ploy born out of desperation,
I assure you.

Now, who's gonna play
the mythical Mr. Melnik?

Oh, my brother Seymour.
Seymour Glass.

He's a retired locksmith.

- Lives in Orlando with his daughter.
- Mm-hmm.

He has to go back to San Francisco-

some unfinished business
for a former client.

Now, how can I be sure
that he's gonna lead us...

to all those wonderfully romantic
locales the city has to offer?

Oh, Seymour loves San Francisco.
He hasn't been there for four or five years.

He told me he's gonna visit
all the places he remembers:

Marty's Restaurant,
Fisherman's Wharf, Chinatown.

Oh! Oh!

Then Seymour is
precisely the man I need.

- You look splendid, Bertha.
- Oh, thank you. Thank you.

- In character. In character.
- Oh, thank you, Mr. Steele.

- Good day, Mrs. Melnik. Good day.
- Bless you.

- I shall look into the matter. Take care now. Mind yourself.
- Thank you.

Good day.

Hello. Welcome to San Francisco.

Oh, delighted to be here. The name's Steele.
Remington Steele. Thank you.

Ah, yes. Party of two.

Now, if you'd please fill this out, sir.

- Sure.
- Do you have a Fred Melnik registered here?

No, I'm afraid not.

Perhaps he's using an alias. We'll just
have to keep a sharp eye peeled, won't we?

- That's 426.
- Great.

And 428.

Separate rooms, Miss Holt?

Separate but equal, Mr. Steele.

Thank you very much.
That'll be fine.

Okay, here you go.
Thank you.

Bye now. Good night.

Uh-

Uh, Laura, you, uh,
forgot to tell the bellboy...

to unlock
the, uh, connecting door.

No, I didn't.

Well, isn't that gonna
make things a little...

you know, awkward?

We're here on business,
Mr. Steele. Remember?

Oh, yes.
How can I forget?

It's emblazoned on my mind.

Shall we stake out the Mark...

see if our quarry
makes an appearance?

Ready when you are.

When I was at Stanford, a bunch of us used to
drive up to San Francisco for the weekends.

When I was at Stanford, a bunch of us used to
drive up to San Francisco for the weekends.

I think it's the most romantic
city in the country.

- Mm.
- You do? Hmm. Really?

Here you go.

Hello.

May I get you
something from the bar?

Uh, why not?
Yes, Dom P�rignon.

Uh, '76, if you have it.

You know, if it weren't for this case,
this would almost be like-

- What?
- Oh, I don't know.

- What?
- Oh, I don't know.

A holiday, a vacation.

I mean, here we are,
just the two of us...

away from the hustle
and bustle of business...

having drinks
in a beautiful setting.

- There he is!
- Who?

Fred Melnik.

Oh.

Come on.

What about your champagne?

Keep it cold, will you?

Excuse me. That guy
who just left looked familiar.

Name's Remington Steele.

Remington Steele, of course!
He's staying in the hotel?

Room 428.

Well, maybe I'll pay
a call on him later.

Come on.

Come on.

I wish you'd stop saying that.

Trap man.

It appears our Mr. Melnik
is a murderer.

All right.
We have a dead man.

Willis Fishbane.
A doctor from Sausalito.

We also have the name "Trapman. "

Obviously Dr. Fishbane
was identifying his murderer.

- Front desk, please.
- What are you doing?

Well, you said yourself Fred Melnik
could be using an alias.

Yes, do you have a Mr. Trapman
registered here?

Thank you.

- No Trapman.
- Well, there you see, Laura. Hmm?

Yes, operator.
I'd like Los Angeles, please.

- 555-3535.
- Uh, what now?

Detective work, Mr. Steele.
That's what we're here for, isn't it?

Bertha Melnik's husband is obviously
mixed up in more than marital high jinks.

Uh, Mildred, I want you
and your trusty computer...

to check out a Willis Fishbane
of Sausalito...

along with
Bertha and Fred Melnik.

Yeah. Get back to me A.S.A.P.

Was that my phone?

- I don't hear anything.
- Ah, my shower, Laura.

I think I left my shower on.
Excuse me just a second.

Uh, yes, operator, please.
I'd like a long-distance call to Los Angeles.

555-3535.

Thank you very much.
Yeah, 3535.

Boss? Yeah,
Miss Holt just called...

and I'm feeding those names
into the computer right now.

- Forget it.
- What do you mean, forget it?

Forget the...
shrimp cocktail I just ordered.

- What shrimp cocktail?
- That order you were just given- Cancel it.

- You mean from Miss Holt?
- That's the one.

You mean you don't want me
to check these people out?

That is correct. Absolutely
and irrevocably correct. Yes. Good-bye.

- What was that all about?
- Room service. They're so dense, so obstinate.

And at these prices. Oh, boy.

Now, since Fred Melnik seems to dine
at Marty's whenever he's in town...

I think we should give the place
some careful scrutiny.

- Besides, I'm starved.
- But you just canceled food.

Yeah, finger food.
Barely keep a goldfish alive.

I'm not sure we can afford to waste
a lot of time sitting in a restaurant.

Laura, we have to eat. I mean,
we haven't eaten since we left Los Angeles.

Eh? Come now.
A little veal piccata...

some mozzarella marinara...

some linguine
bathed in clam sauce.

- Mm, mm, mm.
- I guess I am a little hungry.

Okay, you go freshen up, and I'll go make
the reservations. Okay, see you later.

Uh, operator? Yes. Could I have
the front desk, please?

Uh, yes. Do you have
a Seymour Glass registered here?

He checked out? Oh.

Well, did he leave
a forwarding address?

Oh. Uh, no, no.

Thank you very much. Bye-bye.
Thank you very much. Bye.

Bertha. Bertha. That's it.

Bertha, where's your number?
Where's your number?

Oh, Bertha, where-

Ah, ah, Bertha. Oh, yes.

Oh, Bertha Melnik.
Good girl. Here we go.

Uh, yes, operator, can you
get me Los Angeles, please?

Oh, s-s-sugar!

- You all set?
- Just waiting for you.

Did you make a reservation?

Did I remember to tell you that
you look especially beautiful tonight?

And you look very handsome.

Mm, we make a perfect
couple, don't we?

- Have you decided, sir?
- Yes.

We'll have some mozzarella marinara
to start with...

some veal piccata-
not too heavy on the lemon butter-

some linguine in white clam sauce...

and a bottle of Dom P�rignon-
'76, if you have it.

Very good, sir.

After dinner, why don't we scour
Fisherman's Wharf...

perhaps take a wander down by the-

- There he is!
- Who?

Fred Melnik!

Oh.

I didn't realize Mr. Melnik
had such a dramatic effect on people.

Ah.

Let's not lose him this time.

How about your food, sir?

Keep it hot.

We lost them.

Uh-Uh-Uh, but-

Not if he wants some sleaze.
Come on. Let's go inside.

Come on.

Excuse us! Excuse us!
We saw them first, okay, buddy?

Back off, buddy.

All right. All right.
All right. All right.

You want in, you're in.

Oh! It's okay.

- Hi. Hello. Oh, hi.
- Join us.

Well, we really appreciate it,
but I think we should be going, actually-

- What do you want with the trap man?
- Who?

Don't be cute. You've been on his tail
ever since he got to San Francisco.

Oh, merely a coincidence.

You're a private dick.
Remington Steele.

Oh, hey, I- I didn't know my fame
had spread this far north.

Now is hardly the time
to preen, Mr. Steele.

Who hired you?
Who are you working for?

We're just here on holiday, enjoying the
sights and sounds of your enchanting city.

That's all. Look at it all.

Well, I'm glad you like San Francisco,
'cause you're gonna end your days here.

Huh?

I think Candlestick Park
will be nice and quiet this time of night.

- Let's go.
- Delighted.

- Twenty bucks!
- What?

Oh, I am worth a hundred
if I'm worth a penny!

Sit down. Stop it.

A hundred bucks! For what?
I've seen better bodies in the morgue!

Oh, you pig!
You limey pig!

- Sit down.
- Hey, what's goin' on here?

Uh, nothing, Officer.
Just a little bit too much good cheer.

This guy tried to buy
my bod for 20 bucks!

What do you mean?
I was being generous!

I mean, look at her!
She's all skin and bones!

- I like a little meat with my potatoes!
- Meat? I'll show you!

- Officer, get this woman off me!
- Hey, hey, hey, lady!

Just calm down now, or we're gonna
have to run you in for soliciting.

Why is it always the women?
Never the men!

The filthy, oppressive, exploitative men
who drove us into this...

by denying our rightful place in society!

Ow! Come on!

Sit down, pal. I want to buy you
a little farewell drink.

- What about me, Officer?
- What about you?

I made the proposition! I attempted to buy
this woman's body for carnal purposes.

I mean, I think she's right.
I am as guilty as she is. Don't you agree?

- Yeah!
- Have it your own way, pal. Take him too.

Thank you. Okay, well, we'll have to take
a rain check on that drink another time, okay?

This way?

I must say, the judge was quite lenient
under the circumstances.

I'd just like to know why your bail
was 250 and mine was 500.

Well, you were
the professional in the group.

What is going on here?

- Oh, Laura, you're never gonna forgive me.
- For what?

You didn't even want to take
this case in the first place.

- I lured you up here under false pretenses.
- What are you talking about?

Well, you see, every time we planned to
get away together, a case would interfere.

So I hired that woman
Bertha Melnik...

to make up a story about her husband
being in trouble, you see.

- Open the door! - The plan was to
chase the make-believe Mr. Melnik...

all over the most picturesque
parts of San Francisco...

and then eventually discover that he
was here for some truly innocuous reason.

In the meantime, you and I would have
a few days of uninterrupted...

bliss.

Are you telling me
this whole case was just a ruse...

to get me alone in San Francisco?

I'm terrible- rotten, degenerate human
being, Laura. Forgive me, please. Oh.

That is, without a doubt,
the most...

romantic thing anyone
has ever done for me.

Should I take that to mean
you're not angry with me anymore?

Angry? I'm beside myself with joy!

Oh, now all I have to do is live
long enough to reap the benefits.

Come on. Let's go. Huh?

Okay, grab a lid.

Let's go!

Quick, in here.

All right,
I think we lost him.

- Who are those men, and why are they trying to kill us?
- Ah, simple, Laura.

We had a chance to be alone together
in a city famed for romance.

I mean, could we expect anything less than
a group of dedicated killers dogging our path?

We'd better locate Seymour Glass/Fred Melnik.
Maybe he knows what's going on.

He's a retired locksmith from Orlando.

I mean, according to his sister, he's up here
on some unfinished business for a former client.

Well, could that former client be this
Trapman that everybody keeps speaking of?

Only at the topless bar, they kept talking
about him as the trap man.

Could that be a name
or something else?

I suppose you're determined
to find out, aren't you?

Why, Mr. Steele,
that's what I do for a living.

Oh, must be exciting work.

Name's Rita del Rio.

- Do you know where we can find her?
- Uh-uh.

Uh, would, uh-

PresidentJackson
help jog your memory, eh?

Hey, I own this establishment. Don't
insult me by shoving money in my face.

- Apologies, okay? Fine.
- I get all sorts of weirdos in here looking for my girls.

- They could get cut up or worse.
- Can you get her a message for us?

- Maybe.
- Tell her that the two people who helped her last night...

would like to talk to her
about the man she was with.

- Where?
- Top of the Mark. Nice and public.

If she doesn't like what she sees,
she can take off, okay?

- I'll do my best.
- You wouldn't happen to sell food in here, would you?

- We only serve booze.
- What about the things you put in them?

You know, pineapples, olives, cherries-

We will grab something after we
give Dr. Fishbane's a try.

Let's hope the man with the gun doesn't think
we're stupid enough to go back. Thank you.

Here you are.
Thank you very much.

He must rent that tree
by the month.

He probably came back
after the police left.

- We'll deal with him later on.
- Oh, good.

It's always nice to have
something to look forward to.

Can't you control that?

It's a simple procedure, Laura.

You just put some food in it,
and it shuts right up.

- Who do you suppose he is?
- Yes.

Thank you for coming.
Did you know thejudge long?

- The judge?
- My late husband, Judge Morris Fishbane.

Well, we had a passing acquaintance
with a Willis Fishbane.

We were under the assumption
that this was his house.

Oh, it is. He's-
He was the judge's brother.

Poor Willis.

He was stabbed to death
yesterday in Lincoln Park.

The police think it was
an attempted robbery.

I don't mean to appear
morbid, Mrs. Fishbane...

but, uh, how
did your husband die?

Heart attack.

Yes, he'd just finished
playing six sets of tennis.

Oh, Morris had the finest
topspin in Hillsborough.

That's where we live.

I know that he would have wanted
his final farewell there...

but the other night
our house was vandalized-

floors, walls, ceilings ripped apart.

It was as though someone
had taken an ax to everything.

The most wanton destruction
of personal property I have ever seen.

Oh, it's going to take months to restore it
to just a semblance of what it was.

That's why we had to have
the final farewell here.

Excuse me. Terrible cold.

We don't want to intrude
any more, Mrs. Fishbane.

Thank you, and again you have
our heartfelt condolences.

Oh, come back tomorrow. We're having
Willis's final farewell at 10:00.

Oh, thank you. We look forward to it.
I mean, we'll try. We'll- Good day.

Now we have to contend
with our friend out there.

I'd feel a lot more sanguine if we had
the element of surprise on our side.

There has to be a rear entrance
to this place. Let's find it.

Excuse me?

Inspector Barney Neal,
San Francisco Police Department!

The police are trying to kill us?

- Would it be injudicious to run like hell?
- Sounds good to me.

Come on.

Come on.

Relax. Relax.

We can't very well spend the rest of our
lives hiding in the middle of a dance floor.

We're not hiding.
We're waiting.

Rita del Rio isn't going to show.

Maybe we should go back
to the bar and try to find her.

Oh? If we bump into
Inspector Barney Neal...

what do you suggest we do-
call the cops?

Well, providing those other gentlemen
are also members of San Francisco's finest...

why do the police
want to see us dead?

You don't happen to have any
unpaid parking tickets, do you?

I can see you're taking this with
your usual blend of caution and concern.

If these are to be our last days...

I mean, at least we're spending
them in elegant splendor.

- Don't you think?
- Well, the hell with our killer cops.

Let's enjoy the night
and the music.

I knew you'd see
the wisdom of my strategy.

You know, that is
one of the problems with us.

- Eh?
- It came to me one lonely night.

- Hmm.
- It wasn't exactly the burning bush...

but still it got my attention.

You're, uh-

You're one of the things
that I have to guard against.

The part of me that
I can't ever allow myself to be-

reckless, indulgent, frivolous.

Sounds irresistible.

Well, seductive at any rate.
And very dangerous.

I wish you'd stopped
after seductive.

What?

- There she is!
- Who?

Rita del Rio.

Miss del Rio,
thank you for coming.

I can't stay long.
I gotta be at the club in a half hour.

Here we go.
Sit yourself down.

Now-

The man you were with
last night, Seymour Glass-

Tell us what you know
about him.

I don't know
anything about him.

Well, you and he were engaged in a rather
intense conversation at Marty's Restaurant.

Oh, that. He told me
Dr. Fishbane was dead.

And what was your relationship
with Willis Fishbane?

I never met the man.

Then why did his death
reduce you to tears?

You're not with one of them
scandal magazines, are you?

You know, the kind you get
in the supermarket?

We're private investigators,
and we're here on a case. We think.

Well, I was kind of, you know,
involved with Dr. Fishbane's brother.

The judge? Morris Fishbane?

Yeah, he was such a sweet guy.

A little stuffy, maybe,
but real sweet, you know?

Anyway, Mr. Glass did some work
for the judge... 10, 12 years ago.

What kind of work?

I don't know, but he said some heavy-duty
people didn't want him to finish it...

and that they were going around knocking off
anyone who was close to the judge.

That made me a little nervous.
I always cry when I get nervous.

- Do you know where Seymour is?
- No, he split right after we left the club last night.

I haven't seen him since.
Listen, I really gotta shove off.

But if you find him, tell him to give me
a call. I'm a little worried about him.

So are we, Miss del Rio.

- Good-bye.
- Bye.

Well, Mr. Steele,
what's our next move?

Let's go to my room.

Hmm.

No, no, no, no, Bertha. Miss Holt and I
are having the time of our lives.

Seymour is leading us
on a wonderfully merry chase.

As a matter of fact, he really
does think we are chasing him.

and I just wondered if you might know where
he would hide if he was in some sort of trouble.

Mr. Glass,
I want to speak to you.

Ahhh, it's very impolite
to eat and run, Seymour.

- Come and sit down.
- You're not gettin' it out of me.

You can pull out my fingernails
with rusty pliers.

You can bury me in sand up to my neck
with ants dancing on my eyes-

Seymour, Seymour, Seymour, Seymour,
please. You're getting disgusting.

- Mr. Glass-
- Ah, good. Food.

- We want an explanation.
- We want some egg rolls.

- Who are you?
- Clay pigeons.

- Fried shrimp.
- Sitting ducks.

- Minced squab.
- Moving targets.

- Shredded pork.
- Take your pick.

- Yeah, that should do it.
- And we're sick and tired...

of all those people out there
with guns aimed at us.

He's still standing there.
He's hardly moved.

- He don't understand English.
- Huh? Oh, no.

What's more important-
your stomach or our lives?

Well, at the moment, Laura,
it's a bit of a toss-up.

Now, you're gonna sit there until you
tell us what in the world is going on.

- Why should I?
- Why?

Because we're friends of your sister,
you're in trouble, and you want our help.

How do I know you know Bertha?

Blanche, Streetcar Named Desire.

- She earned six curtain calls.
- Her greatest triumph.

Mr. Glass, those men who tried to hustle
you out of that topless bar last night-

At least one of them is a policeman.

- They're all cops!
- Oh, this gets better and better, doesn't it?

- What do they want with you?
- The trap.

You mean,
you're the trap man?

- That's me.
- What the hell is a trap man?

A guy who installs traps.
You know, secret panels, hidden safes.

Mostly for the mob. Oh, occasionally
you get your doctor, your dentist-

anybody who's got something
they don't want somebody else to find.

- Usually it's cash.
- That's fascinating.

So your trap belongs
to this Judge Morris Fishbane?

Yeah, wh-when I read that he kicked off,
I flew right out here to open it.

You see, the only time a trap man
is allowed to tell the secret...

is when the owner of the trap dies.

And you told the judge's
brother, Willis Fishbane.

Yeah, and look
what happened to him.

- What's in the trap, Seymour?
- Oh, only the judge knew that.

Well, obviously it's
important enough to kill for.

Have you told Mrs. Fishbane?

I go anywhere near her, she winds up
napping alongside the judge.

Who was that man at the Top of the Mark-
the one you argued with?

George Broder.
Captain Broder.

He tried to give me 100 grand
not to open the trap.

I told him what
he could do with his money.

You see, a trap man
lives by his honor.

Or he don't live long.

And since you're the key
to locating the trap...

they were probably trying to kill you
in the park, not Dr. Fishbane.

Silence you, and their
worries are over, mate.

And because we've been following
you around San Francisco...

they're probably convinced
we've been working for someone...

who wants you to open
the trap for them.

Yeah, w-w-well,
don't worry about me.

I'm- I'm flying back
to Orlando in the morning.

Seymour, once you turned down that
hundred thousand, you were a marked man.

Returning to Orlando
will not solve your problem.

They'd still have to kill you to make
certain that trap stays closed forever.

And us, just to make sure
we didn't know where it was.

Welcome to San Francisco,
Mr. Steele.

Oh, delighted to be here,
Miss Holt.

- Pinto Place.
- La Serena Drive.

- Van Dyke Avenue.
- Did you ever hear of the Bug?

- Who?
- Bugsy Siegel, gentleman gangster.

I'm the one that put the trap
in the Flamingo Hotel for him.

Seymour, do any of these
street names sound familiar?

Uh-uh. Oh, what a guy, that Bug.

He was the father
of Las Vegas. A visionary.

They blew his head off.
Terrible tragedy.

Concentrate, Seymour.
Concentrate.

I told you, I was only
in Hillsborough once-

when I installed the trap for the judge-
and that was 12 years ago.

No wonder the judge's house was vandalized.
They were looking for the trap.

Well, apparently they didn't find it...

otherwise they wouldn't still
be trying to kill Seymour.

Oh, those were the days.

Flying here, flying there.
Chicago, Vegas, Cuba.

- Castillian Drive.
- Oak View Terrace.

No matter what you hear,
you know, them mob boys...

they didn't go in much for safe deposit boxes
or them numbered Swiss bank accounts.

No, sir. They wanted to get their mitts
on their money quick.

Seymour, this is
a matter of life and death.

Ours.

Well, hit the right street,
and I'll remember it.

You know, when the owner
of a trap dies...

the trap man gets a percentage
of whatever's in it.

And that can add up
to a nice piece of cash, I'll tell you.

I remember once-

- Who is it?
- Room service.

Oh, thank God for that.

We didn't order any room service.

Uh, we didn't order any room service.

It's a fruit basket,
compliments of the management.

I'm not dressed.
Just leave it outside.

Sorry. Can't do that, ma'am.
You've gotta sign for it...

so the manager knows
I didn't swipe it for myself.

Just a minute.
I'll have to throw something on.

Believe me, Laura. I wouldn't do this
if it wasn't an extreme emergency.

Really. Huh.

Laura, open the door.

Here you go. Catch.

- One gun.
- All right.

All right.
Here we go.

All the way in.

Oh, must be coming up in the world.
This one's a lieutenant.

Well, they know
where we're staying now.

We can't come back here
until this thing's wrapped up.

When do you think that'll be?
My plane leaves at 9:00.

Come on.

That's the one!

You've been saying that
for the last hour and a half.

I tell you,
that's the judge's house!

Pull over, driver.

Oh, if this ain't gonna be
the best day of my life...

Oh, if this ain't gonna be
the best day of my life...

I guarantee you it's
gonna be one of the richest.

Well, there goes our trap.

Not necessarily.

Oh!

- How much?
- No money.

Then what did we risk
our lives for?

A list of briberies, payoffs...

underworld connections.

A veritable cornucopia
of corruption.

Involving a former
police commissioner...

several judges...

and a packet of politicians.

Well, Judge Fishbane was probably
blackmailing these eminent citizens.

Well, we can't take our find to the police
because we don't know which ones to trust.

The F.B.I.
We will go to the F.B.I.

But we have to find a safe place to stay
the night until we can contact them.

Stick with me, kids.

This is not quite the way
I envisioned our stay here.

Oh, I don't know. It's had some
interesting twists and turns.

Why do you have to be
such a good sport about all of this?

Everything okay?
You want anything?

- Food.
- I'm sorry. They only-

Serve drinks. I know.

I saw a hot dog stand across the street.
I'm gonna get something to nibble on.

I don't think you should leave.
I mean, what if somebody should see ya?

- Rita, no one knows we're here.
- Get me a chili dog- cheese, mustard, no onions.

Hey, I'll have one of those too.
Mustard, onion and no cheese.

Oh, what the hell. Make mine
cheese, onions, no mustard.

No mustard, no cheese,
no onions. Got it.

- Oh, I pray you're open for business.
- What can I get for you?

- Four chili dogs, please.
- What do you want on 'em?

What- Oh, uh-

Everything.

Yeah.

- They're here.
- Who?

The guys that are
after you and me.

- What about Mr. Steele?
- He'll be fine.

Come on.
We gotta get outta here.

- Who's gonna pay for this?
- Let me ask you a question.

- What?
- How did they know we were here?

Laura! Laura?
Excuse me, darling.

- Apartment 3.
- Aren't you coming?

- I got six more shows to do.
- You won't be safe there.

They don't want me.
They want him.

No!

Well, Seymour's safely
on his way back to Orlando.

I'm sure he's delighted
as much as we are.

Tell me, how did you know there was a trap
waiting for you and Seymour at Rita's apartment?

I began to wonder why she was so positive
they only wanted Seymour...

after she'd told us they were killing
anybody who was close to the judge.

Poor ol'Judge Fishbane.

She only got involved with him
so she could get close to the trap, I guess.

- Come in.
- Here you go, my good man. Take it away.

Thank you very much indeed.
Wallet, keys. That's what I need.

There we go. Right. Okay.

Well, you know, it's gonna be
a pity to leave this place...

after everything's
finally calmed down.

Well, it's not your fault the entire hotel
was booked for a chiropractors' convention.

Still, it's the thought that counts.

Well, perhaps I'd hoped
for something more than...

you know,
mental stimulation.

You know, we have gone
through this whole case...

without you once coming up
with a movie reference.

- Well, here you go. I've got an appropriate one.
- Oh?

The Lost Weekend.
Ray Milland, Jane Wyman.

Paramount, 1945.

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