All language subtitles for The Streets of San Francisco s01e19 Deadline.eng

A Quinn Martin production.

I thought you were out of town.

I lied.

Why?

The reason's pretty obvious,
isn't it, Maggie?

Who is he?

- You've been drinking.
- I had good reason. Who is he?

- I was going to tell you about him.
- Tell me.

Not when you're like this.

I'm always like this about you.
Tell me.

- Please. Not now.
- Now.

Where has all the gentle gone?

Chris.

You set the ground rules, Chris,
remember?

No ring, no long runs.

Maggie.

Maggie. Baby. Baby.

Maggie, I didn't mean to do that.
I swear, Maggie.

Maggie.

Maggie.

Baby.

The body is that of an adult
Caucasian female

weighing approximately 120 pounds.

Measuring

65-and-one-half inches.

The hair is blond.
The eyes are blue.

The ears, nose and mouth
are essentially unremarkable

except for a small, unrepaired cavity
in the left incisor.

There has to be another way
for the day to begin.

There is edema of the occipital region
and a depressed fracture

measuring approximately
5 centimeters of greatest diameter.

It is my opinion that the wound
of the skull

produced such extensive
brain damage

as to preclude the possibility
of the deceased surviving the injury.

Time lapse since death, conceding
the cooling rate of the body

to be approximately
one degree per hour

and taking into account surrounding
temperature and moisture, 12 hours.

She was dead before she hit
the water.

But how long in the bay?

Well, the tidal currents flow about
six hours in one direction,

and about the same
in the opposite direction.

What time did you say
she was found?

Just before 6 this morning.

Right about here.

Yes.

Currents were running
seaward then.

If the body hadn't been recovered,
she'd have gone through the gate.

If she was dumped from a boat,
where would it have been?

Captain, can you make a guess?

Well, I can do better than that.

Now, here's a chart prepared

by the Hydrographic Offices
of the U.S. government.

It graphs the surface conditions
of the waters here.

Now, found when she was,
in these latitudes,

she had to be drifting seaward
on the outgoing tide.

Now, the span of time

measured by the speed of the water
and the wind currents

would indicate
that she had to be right about there.

- That's land.
- That's right.

Belvedere.

I'll get right on it.

Wild, huh? Isn't it?

- It's beautiful.
- Yeah.

And then comes night
you know what you can do?

You can freak out on the stars.

It's really glorious.

Not the moon, though.

They're polluting the moon,
you know?

Yesterday you weren't looking
at anything, huh?

No, just leather.
I mean, that's my life's work.

I neglect it, I'm a hungry child.

Yeah.

You ever seen her?

- That's a lot of girl.
- Yeah.

No, I never saw her
not until just this minute.

- Why? Who is she?
- Maggie Ames.

What is it, a missing person
or something?

Dead. She's dead.

Oh, wow.

That's a lost child, you know?

Hey, I'm sorry I can't help you out

unless you could use custom-made
shoes or something like that.

You guys use a lot of shoe leather.

No, I don't think so.
Thank you, anyway.

It couldn't hurt. I'll do it cheap.

Yeah. Maybe another time.

Maggie was an exciting, vibrant girl.

Clich� or no, she lit up the place
where she was.

Maggie did a column for us.

Profiles in depth on the illustrious,
the anonymous.

What was the last thing she wrote?

A piece on ACT, the theater group.

She picked her own assignments,
did what interested her.

Well, what would interest her
about a theater group?

Creativity.

Creativity interested her.

She spent more time on that column
than she had on all the others.

Do you know why?

No.

No, I don't.

Maggie placed a high value
on her privacy.

Not many people dared to intrude
upon that.

How did she live, Mr. Martin?

I mean, habits, friends, lifestyle?
Did she live alone, with someone?

Alone, I assume, I never asked her
and we never discussed it.

I didn't know her friends.

I certainly have no idea why anyone
would wanna kill her.

Tomorrow's news is screaming
for attention, Mr. Stone.

Today's is a whisper
from the dead and the buried.

Mr. Martin, thank you for your time.

Well, isn't there somebody there
I can talk to about it?

I just wanna find out
when the rehearsal starts.

All right, I'll wait.

Yeah, I'm still here.

What is it?

Four o'clock.
And what's the name again?

William Ball.

Thank you very much. No.

No messages.

- Belvedere.
- What?

It happened in Belvedere.

How do you come by that?

They found her in the bay,
didn't they?

- She had a beach house over there.
- And what else do you know?

Wait. You're supposed to be
the Homicide heavyweight.

You give me the facts, remember?
I just put them on paper.

How well did you know her, Ace?

She put out a column,
I put out a column.

That's all?

Give or take an occasional lunch offer
from an old man she was too busy for.

How about this beach house?

It's at the foot of the hills.
Right on the water.

- She told you about it?
- No. A gal at the office owned it.

Rented it to Maggie when she moved
to Arizona.

412 Bay View. Say, thanks, Ace.

Nothing in life is free, Mike.

Oh, I thought we touched that base
before, remember, no exclusives.

- It's just a promise.
- Yeah.

Get him.

That almost sounds more personal

than just a lunch date
or two not taken up on.

I take it personally every time
a Maggie Ames gets chopped down.

Mike, how much good is there left
in this world?

And how many people are there
trying to help what little there is left?

You pull Maggie's columns,
any one of them.

See how she looked at life,
at people.

Everything she wrote had a smile.

Blue skies and white caps.
Summer storms and rainbows.

Snowflakes and holly.

The man who killed her
scrubbed all that.

In one stupid, mindless,
self-centered moment,

he took something rare

and left it like that.

It's still just an investigation, Ace.
Nothing says murder.

Twenty-eight years on the desk
says murder to me, Mike.

And if you can't prove it, I will.

- Do you got something?
- Yeah, it looks like

an errand list or something.

"Market, laundry, drugstore,
gas station."

Sounds pretty flimsy.

What did you come up with?

Look, the next time
the Marin County Sheriff tells us

we won't find anything,
I'm gonna believe that man.

This house has got the worst vibes,
you know?

It's so cold.

So impersonal.

Maybe she lit it up.

Like her editor said,

she lit up the room
wherever she was.

- Hello?
- What've you got?

Chris.

You got nothing, right?

Your press pass
buy you insult rights?

It buys more than your badge,
it seems.

Like?

Like two kids in a skiff
yesterday evening off Belvedere.

Are you telling me
somebody saw what happened?

Same as.

They saw a speedboat heading
into the beach with a boy and a girl.

A blond girl.

A few minutes later,
they saw the same boat

blasting back across the bay
without the girl.

Did you get a description of the guy?

Mike, two 16-, 17-year-old
red-blooded American boys.

They could describe the girl.

They could describe the boat.

The girl was Maggie.

The boat was a 20-, 22-foot
custom inboard.

White with blue lightning bolts
down each side of the bow.

Thanks, Ace.

Mike, if we get that boat,
we get the killer.

- I'm checking marinas now.
- We?

Okay, okay. I'll do it myself.

You go back to shaking doorknobs.

Chris.

- Crazy, ink-fingered fireball.
- What's happened?

Well, he may have broken
the case wide open.

What are we looking for?

Lightning bolts.

Lightning bolts?

Yes, of course. I know it well.

Thoroughbred.

- Privilege to berth her.
- Well, I'm glad to hear it.

This is the eighth yacht harbor
we've been to today.

Who owns it?

Young fellow named
Roland Claridge.

Do you know if he took it out
yesterday?

I must enlighten you.

Members here use their vessels
at their own whim and will.

Well, do you happen to know
whether he had the whim yesterday?

No, sir, I do not.

That is an intrusion
we cannot condone.

But this must be the boat
you described to me.

The only one of it's kind on the bay
to my knowledge.

A little thoroughbred.

Well,

we may have to keep this
thoroughbred in the barn for a while.

- I beg your pardon?
- Impound. Police impound.

- Impound?
- Yes, sir.

Well, the other chap
never mentioned that.

- Other chap?
- Yes.

Before you
asking the same questions.

Newspaper fellow.

Chris Bane.

I was about to tell you his name.
Chris Bane.

He writes a newspaper column,
"Deadline."

"Deadline."

Maybe we're gonna have
to start reading that column.

Yes, lieutenant.
We've been expecting you.

He said that you'd be along shortly.

He?

That wouldn't by any chance be
a gentleman named Chris Bane?

Scarcely a gentleman.

His interrogation of my son
was indefensible.

- I had him shown out.
- Score one for our side.

- I beg your pardon?
- Nothing, Mrs. Claridge.

I take it then
you know why we're here.

I should have sold that boat years ago.
Cost a fortune.

Roland uses it semi-annually.

Oh, this is my son, Roland.

Lieutenant Stone.

I'm Inspector Keller.

Did you by any chance use the boat
yesterday, Mr. Claridge?

No, he was not using his boat
yesterday.

Where were you
between 4:30 and 5:00?

He was here at home with me.

Can anyone else attest to that,
like Roland here, for instance?

How about it, Roland?

I was at home yesterday.

Your boat was out.

Yeah, but I wasn't operating it.

- Well, do you know who was?
- Do I have to answer that?

Certainly not.
You don't have to answer anything.

Just that I'd rather not involve
anybody else

until I understand exactly
what this is all about.

Well, I'm sure that Chris Bane
must have told you.

He said murder.

Who is this somebody else
that you're worried about?

I can't believe
he'd do a thing like that.

Well, then he won't be afraid
to answer a few questions, will he?

His name is Peter. Peter Anthony.

- He was using it yesterday?
- All day.

Where can we find him?

No. I have no idea where he lives.

But Roland, how do you know
anybody like that?

We study together.

You go to school?

My son studies theater
at the ACT workshop.

Devil.

She was as false as water.

Devil.

- She was a liar gone to burning hell.
- Devil.

Very good, very good. John.

Allow the tension to build just a little bit
longer before you pull the trigger.

And we'll take a ten-minute break,

and then we'll start from the top
of the scene.

He's really good, your Othello.

- Oh, you recognized it.
- Sure, sure. I liked it.

- What part does Peter Anthony play?
- Cassio.

When does he come on?

I don't rehearse with him again
till tomorrow.

Tomorrow?

You happen to know
where we can find him today?

Afraid not.

Well, what about your office?

Would they have his phone number
or address?

Not for Peter.

Why is that?

Well, personal reasons.

His parents objected pretty strongly
to his becoming an actor.

It's a pity too because he's very gifted
and he could use their support.

What time is the rehearsal
tomorrow?

I'm working with Desdemona till 11:00
and I'll begin with Peter then.

Great. Thank you very much.

Say, there's one more thing.
Please, Mr. Ball.

There's a young woman reporter

working on a column
about your theater. Maggie Ames.

Oh, I heard about her death.
Is that what you're investigating?

Yes. Yes. We were wondering

if she focused her interviews
on anyone in particular.

- Well...
- Peter Anthony?

Peter?

Oh, if you're assuming
that Peter had anything to do

with that young woman's death,
that's pretty poor casting.

Peter is very sensitive,

but he's also very self-controlled.

He's well focused, clear-headed.

I guess you could say the same thing
about Othello, couldn't you, Mr. Ball?

Checking the box score?

Yeah, if Chris knows anything
about this Anthony kid,

that'll make it a shutout, won't it?

Yeah.
Old ink-fingers three, the fuzz zip.

It's kind of tough to get a jump
on this guy.

Yeah, he always was that way.

Well, how long you really
known him?

Oh, we go back a long way.
Way back.

Yeah, my first day in Homicide,
my first case.

Me and old Mclntyre, we--

Remember Mc--?
No, that was before your time.

Well, we got out there like a shot.

And there was this reject
from a college paper

walking all over the clues.

So, what did you do?

Same thing I've had to do
a hundred times since.

Tell him to keep out of the way.

But no matter
where you turn around, why,

you'd always trip over him.

- One-man traffic jam, huh?
- Yeah.

He turned out to be a good reporter,
though.

Many times,
he'd come up with leads that,

well, the whole department
couldn't find.

Sounds like he'd be a great cop.

- Except for one thing.
- What's that?

Small item about drinking on duty.

- Does he have a problem?
- No.

He just drinks as hard as he works.

Listen, is there anything in his column
about the case?

No, he's taken
on legalized gambling today.

- That's funny.
- What?

Well, he's just so involved. You'd think
he'd have something about the case.

Well, he may have written it before.

It may be one of a series,
and it's gotta continue.

Come on.
Let's get back to the office.

I wanna find out what they know
about Peter Anthony.

Is that you, Dad?

Hey, Greg. How are you, son?
How long have you been here?

I got here a little while ago.

I'm making coffee. You want some?

I think I could use a-- Yeah, yeah.

Yeah, coffee.
That's a great idea. Fine.

Now, you've been working
on that Maggie Ames' story.

Yeah.

How is your work going?

Oh, nothing has changed.

- I don't think it's about to, either, Dad.
- Hey, you hang in there, Greg.

Aerospace is important.
Lasers, galaxies, black holes.

But we've talked about all that before,
haven't we?

Yeah, we've been through it.

Hey, man, that coffee smells good.

Thank you, Greg.

You know, I haven't seen you for days
and I treat you like wallpaper.

How are you? How have you been?
What've you been doing with yourself?

You need a buck?
You need some fatherly advice?

From an absentee father?

Something like that.

I tried to see you at the paper,
but you'd gone.

Okay, Greg, shoot.
What's on your mind?

It's all right. You look beat.

- We'll make it some other time.
- No, Greg.

Greg, don't go.

You gotta get some sleep, Dad.

I need--

What, Dad?

What we all need, I guess, Greg,

someone you can cut
your heart open to,

our tired old hearts.

Oh, come on.
You've got the heart of a lion.

Yeah, that's me.

Old, lion-hearted. King of the jungle.

King of the jungle
with a pride of lionesses to--

No. no, not pride. Just one.

Sleek, lithe, young

with a glow about her
that set men's hearts aglow.

I don't follow you, Dad.

Are you seeing somebody
special now?

No.

Not anymore.

Not ever again.

Why not?

- She's dead.
- Dead?

Killed.

Who was she, Dad?

That girl you asked about
a few minutes ago. Maggie Ames.

I didn't know.

Oh, Greg, not too many people did.
I made her keep it that way.

I didn't want her to be laughed at.

I didn't want people saying
what they could

if they knew she was seeing a man
old enough to be her father.

It didn't matter how many times
she told me

that the only thing that mattered
was my love.

Oh, I pretended to believe her,
but I knew better.

I knew the day would come

when she'd be able to see
what anyone could see.

That day finally came.

She was killed.

Yeah.

Yeah, she was killed.

And I'm gonna find the man
who took her away from me.

The man who made love to her.
The man who made her die.

I'm gonna find him.

I see, right.

So then, if he actually hadn't been paid
for performance,

he wouldn't have to join your guild,
is that right?

Right.
Okay, well, thank you very much.

Have a good evening. Bye.

What did you get
from the actors' guild?

Nothing. Just that he's a student

and doesn't have to join the guild
unless he gets paid.

I can't find anything like a diary
or daily calendar.

Same in her bedroom.

Well, maybe she left her life
at the office.

If she had one.

Judging by this, I don't know.

- Wanna pack it in?
- Yeah.

You can read this on your own time.

- Beautiful handwriting.
- Yeah.

Good looks.

Good taste.

I don't know.

And everything she wrote
had a smile.

"Identity.

Revelation. P.A."

"Day with P.A."

Day.

Anthony.

P.A. Peter Anthony.

Telegraph.

Yeah. Sure, Mr. Bane.

I'll get it right away. Hold on.

I've got it right here in front of me,
Mr. Bane.

Maggie Ames' last column. ACT.

Read what it says about
Peter Anthony.

"Among the supporting cast were
Peter Anthony and Marilyn Lee.

Both promising newcomers."

- Then there's some other names.
- That's it?

- That's all it says about Peter Anthony?
- Yes, sir.

Are you sure
you haven't skipped something?

No, sir.

"Among the supporting cast
were Peter Anthony and Marilyn Lee.

Both promising newcomers."

See the picture?

The face?

I finally put it all together, Mr. Bane.

And it spelled
"Deadline."

- Who are you?
- Me?

Oh, I'm just a dude with a telescope.

On a dock.
By the beach.

In Belvedere.

- Did you talk to the police?
- Me? No, no, no.

I just wanted to wait and rap with you,
Mr. Bane, that's all.

Your lead.

Yeah, you're a writer,
right, Mr. Bane?

Who was it that wrote,

"Silence is golden"?

Anyhow, that's not what I'm selling.
I tell you what I am selling.

I'm selling a very special, unique,

heavy brand of silence.

And this brand of silence

just happens to come,
as you might have guessed,

in golden.

Still your lead.

Right.

How much golden? Let's see--

Say, five long ones a week?
How's that?

- No.
- Hey, man, come on. Hold on.

- All I have to do is pick up--
- Three.

- Three hundred.
- Yeah?

I'll only give you 2 now, you'll have
the other hundred by tomorrow.

Payment date hereafter
will be on Saturday.

Saturday is great. That's great.

No meetings. The money
will be deposited in a post office box.

Tens, 20's, okay?

Okay. Sure, that's great.

All right, let's get on with it.
Let's get it over with.

You know, I've got a boy
just about your age.

Fine boy. He's bright.

He listens. He reads. He thinks.

But he has to break his behind
to make it.

Not at all like you, Roger.
Not poised. Not cool.

- You've got it all together.
- Right.

At such an early age.

- Well, here we are.
- Okay, let's get it. Come on.

- Roger.
- What?

Hey, man, what is it?
What this that?

What is this, huh? Hey, what--?

What's this, Maggie Ames' prints
were on Claridge's boat?

Yeah, and somebody else's.

- Who, Anthony?
- If that's his name.

Wait a minute. What do you mean?

There's no record of a Peter Anthony
working anywhere in this city.

No criminal record. No school record.
No nothing.

You did your homework last night,
didn't you? An alias, huh?

What else?

A guy studying to be an actor.

Stage name, right?

- Better check the theater again.
- I did.

He joined the group
as Peter Anthony. Period.

Ball said he was having trouble with
his parents about being an actor.

And now, he's in bigger trouble.

Mike.

I found him.

I told you to read Maggie's columns.

His name's Peter Anthony
was written all over them.

Hold it. Take it easy.
What are you talking about?

The killer.
His name is Peter Anthony.

Here's a work draft
of the last column she wrote.

Read the part I have underlined.

I haven't got my glasses. Read it.

"Among them, Peter Anthony,
a very talented,

very sensitive,
very attractive young man.

There is a gentleness in him
and the strong undercurrents of virility.

A rare combination."
That's quite a review.

Now, here's the column
that was actually printed.

Come on. Read it.

"Among the supporting cast
were Peter Anthony and Marilyn Lee.

Both promising newcomers." Period.

- That's all?
- Yeah.

That's all.
A passing reference to a guy

she couldn't say enough about
in the original work draft.

Doesn't that ice it for you?

Ace, how many times
have you told me

that newspapers have editors
who cut your heart out?

Nobody touched Maggie's column
but her.

It was written in her contract.

This figures only one way.

She was in love with this fellow,
Peter Anthony.

She was trying to hide it.

Wait a minute. How do you get
from a review to love?

Her calendar.
You saw it, didn't you?

No. How did you?

- I went to her apartment.
- How'd you get in?

The manager.
It turns out he was a fan.

He reads my column before he reads
the funnies every morning.

Well, I thought you would have seen
the entries on the calendar.

Dinner with Peter Anthony. Supper.
Breakfast. And the last item.

March 8th. A day with P.A.

March 8th. That was the day
she was murdered.

I told you I'd find him for you, Mike.

- Now, you bring him in.
- We've been looking for him, Ace.

You knew?

Just a suspect. Got his name
from the guy who owned the boat.

A suspect?

If you can't make this stick, you're
in the wrong line of work. Both of you.

Oh, come on. Come on, Ace.
We'll move in on him.

Mike, I thought you ought to know.
Radio unit just called in.

They found the man in an alley,
dead of a bullet wound.

- Give it to Haseejian, will you?
- I think you'll want this one, Mike.

They said he had a medallion
in his hand.

Had a name engraved on the back.

Peter Anthony.

St. Genesius.

Actor's patron saint.

He must've torn it off the assailant.

- How long has he been dead?
- Six or seven hours.

I know him, Mike.

He's the guy in Belvedere
with the telescope.

And Act IV's a coffee house.

Hangout for actors.
ACT is a block away.

Hey, Peter.

A couple of dudes out here
to see you with badges.

They ask for me?

If you've got a stash, man,
you'd better flush it.

- All right, come on. Let's go.
- For what?

Suspicion of murder.

No, I didn't kill her.

We're talking about a man
shot to death in an alley.

He had a medal in his hand.
It was yours.

Then there was the boat you used
the same day Maggie Ames was killed.

We'll talk about that too.
Downtown. Come on.

Hey, look, you don't know
what you're talking about.

- I didn't do it. I didn't kill anyone.
- Why did you run then, huh?

I don't have to say anything.

Tell you anything.

Do I, Dad?

Pretty heavy.

Break your back to convict someone,
it turns out to be your own son.

So that's the way you met.
That's where you two--

That's where we met. Period.

She watched a rehearsal.

- Then she came backstage--
- I don't wanna hear any more of it.

You're going to hear.

You're going to hear the way it was,
not the way you think it was.

I didn't know, Dad.

I didn't know until you told me.

And it tore me up.

- She knew, didn't she?
- Not at first.

But she found out. Did she tell you?
Did she tell you?

Was she the kind
of person to hurt anyone that way?

You were living a lie.
A rotten, stinking--

She lived in hell.

A hell like neither one of us knew
because she wouldn't let us know.

She tried to spare us that.

Listen to me.

What happened with us,
just happened.

There didn't seem to be any way
either one of us could control it.

Then she told me it had to stop.

There was another man.

Someone she loved very deeply.

In a different way.

Someone she didn't wanna hurt.

You think that's what I wanna hear?

You think that's gonna make me
forgive either one of you?

I don't know about forgiving,
but you taught me about truth.

You've dedicated your whole life to it,
haven't you?

You can face it now.

The truth is,

she didn't know who I was
until I told her.

Until I bragged about my father
being pretty big in her field himself.

I told her he was Chris Bane.

And that's--

That's when she got the place
on the beach.

So she could be alone to think.

Do you realize what she had
to be thinking, Dad?

That had to be
like broken glass inside her.

There's another truth, Dad.

I took Maggie to the island that day,
on the boat.

But I didn't kill her.

I know that, Greg.

- Mike.
- Yeah.

Mike, I--

Mike, I've got news for you.

There's no way you can hold
that boy.

- You heard the evidence, Ace.
- What evidence?

- Circumstantial, fragmentary--
- That's not what you were saying.

- You ever made a mistake, Mike?
- Yeah, sure. A lot of them.

And for what it's worth,

I hope we've all made one
about Greg.

But it doesn't look that way
right now.

It will, when I finish.

I don't care how many lawyers
I have to hire.

How many IOU's I have to call in.

How many doors I have
to knock down to collect.

I put him in here. I'll get him out.

You're gonna book him now?

- Why?
- Just thinking.

Booking slips like a tattoo.

Stays with you
no matter how things turn out.

You think things
are gonna turn out different too?

Well, according to Chris Bane,
they are.

And up until now, he's been
a regular walking oracle, hasn't he?

You don't make that sound
like a compliment, buddy boy.

I don't know, Mike. I don't know.

All right.

He turns us on to the beach house,
right?

Right.

And the boat.
And Maggie Ames' column.

- And her calendar.
- So?

If it was you
that was telling me those things,

maybe I'd believe they were facts,

but him, Chris Bane?
I don't know, Mike.

Now, wait a minute,
do you know what you're saying?

All I'm saying is, we never found
the two kids he says saw the boat,

and I looked all over that area.

Well, it's not the first time he's had
a head start on this department.

Mike, it's like you said,
this is not his beat.

And he's not doing it for his paper.

And you can't tell me
you buy his story

about a couple of lunches
Maggie Ames turned down

without pursuing it further.

Unless he was a good friend.

Mike, tell me I'm wrong, I'll shut up.

Now, you listen to me.

If you ever back off
because of something personal,

I'll stuff your head in your pocket.

No.
Things have been bothering me too.

The guy in the alley?

He tells you he never met
Maggie Ames

and yet he ends up stiff
with a medal

that she bought for the kid.

Well, I figure what he didn't tell me,
he told somebody else.

- Blackmail.
- Yeah.

But who is that somebody else?

It isn't the kid who carries a spear
in Othello.

What could he cough up?

Unless--

You're right.

Unless that somebody else he met...

...that somebody else that he saw
through a telescope

was Chris.

Yeah.

Well, that's one lousy thing
to say about a guy

that you've known for half your life.

Mike, you're just reading the cards
the way they fall, that's all.

You're right. All right.

Let's...

...check two more cards, shall we?

When Chris Bane
called us in Belvedere.

I guess we better find out
how he got that number.

- See if it's listed.
- It's not.

You checked that out too.

Private line installed to Maggie Ames
ten days ago.

I don't see
how he could have gotten it.

No, sir, I didn't let Mr. Bane
into this apartment.

I mean, why would I?
He has his own key.

- I know.
- It's right this way, sir.

- Did I do something wrong?
- No.

Nobody told me what to do
about anybody who--

I know, just let us in, please?

You got it made, old pro?

Everything but the why.

I haven't got that myself.

I can tell you I loved her.

I can tell you I found out
she was seeing somebody else.

I can tell you I was half out
of my head.

Drank too many martinis,

and when I saw her step off
that boat, I--

But all that doesn't make motive,
does it, Mike?

Not to a man
who considers himself rational.

I didn't know it was Greg.

And she didn't know it was my son.
It was all a terrible--

Let's go downtown, Ace.

Do you got enough
to let the boy go?

I suppose, Mike, you know, I also...

...killed that little hustler...

...with this gun.

- What are you gonna buy with that?
- Time.

My son goes free.

I buy enough time to get lost.

There's only one way you can do it.

- Squeeze the trigger.
- Twice.

Just a few hours, Mike.

Sorry, Ace.

Like I've always told you.

No exclusives.

- Hey, Greg was good, huh?
- He was great. Really great.

- Play really works, too, doesn't it?
- I guess.

You guess?
What do you mean, you guess?

Sixteenth-century play
that comes to life like that?

With such contemporary values?

A theme that still holds up?

Holds up?
I'll tell you what holds up.

- Abie's Irish Rose.
- Abie's Irish Rose?

How can you even compare
those two plays?

They're both plays, aren't they?
They both have actors, don't they?

- You're putting me on.
- No, I'm not.

Whisper

of the dead and buried.

What?

Oh, nothing, nothing. Come on.
I'll buy you a chilidog, huh?

- A chilidog?
- That's right. A chilidog.

Everybody goes for a snack
after the theater.

Tradition.

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