Original subtitles

I almost passed by this place.

It's surprising to find an accountant in this setup.

Well, I like old things.

Stylish.

I'm Reeve Baker.

Joe Gambol told me about you.

He said you specialize in writers?

Oh, yes.

I remember.

Joe said that you might be stopping by, Mr. Baker.

Ah, call me "Reeve."

Mr. Baker is somebody's grandfather.

Mind if I call you Terence, or do you prefer Terry, or?

Terence will do nicely.

You-- you ever read any of my stuff?

As a matter of fact, I have.

But my wife is your real fan.

She dotes on historical romances.

I believe she's read all 13 of them.

Bought or just read?

Both bought and read.

She'll be fascinated to learn that we've met.

Well, now, I take it that you have a problem?

More like a catastrophe than a problem, I'd say.

The feds.

They're going to audit me.

I see.

Well, now may I ask who prepared your last income tax return?

I did.

TERENCE: And you've never been audited before?

No, never.

How about your records?

Receipts, canceled checks, and so on?

I thought you might like to see them.

I never throw anything away.

Yes, I can see that.

Well, what do you think?

Am I going to go to jail?

Well, no, not this year, anyway.

Phew.

I knew I had something to tell you.

GWEN: Hm?

I have a new client.

Oh?

Who? - Reeve Baker.

You met him?

I mean, you actually talked to him?

For at least an hour.

What is he like?

He just might well be the world's worst record keeper.

Oh no, I don't mean that.

I mean what is he like?

Well, he spends every dime he gets.

On women, mostly.

To hear him talk.

He drives an old sports car of some kind.

And he still rents, if you can believe it.

And he's being audited by the IRS.

Aside from that, I'd say he hasn't got a care in the world.

He's not married.

"Not now, not ever" is the way I believe he phrased it.

What else?

Well, in one respect, he's very much like you.

Me?

How?

He never throws anything away.

Here, let me help you.

Thank you.

This has to be one of the most delightful days

that I have ever spent.

Ah, the coastline was so beautiful.

Oh, it certainly was absolutely beautiful.

Wait.

Hm?

I have a surprise.

Just some champagne to toast your husband.

Me?

Yes.

But before that, I wanna apologize for monopolizing

the conversation all day.

All those wild stories about my rather peculiar lady friends

were--

They were fascinating, and I didn't believe a word of them.

Weren't they fascinating, Terence?

Oh, absolutely.

The really fascinating guy is you, mon ami.

Not only did you save me from the feds,

but you introduced me to the wonderful world of tax

shelters, and deductible trips to Greece,

and the joys of becoming a corporation.

So here's to you, Terence Carter,

the prince of tax avoidance.

Well, that's very kind of you, Reeve.

I mean every word of it, not just

for straightening out my finances,

but you and Gwen are good people, solid.

I really need friends like you.

He's unusual, isn't he?

Reeve?

Yes.

I mean, he's different from all these other writers

who are your clients.

All they ever talk about is money.

Well, lack of it, usually.

Reeve talks about the world.

He talked about a very great number

of extracurricular affairs, if that's what you mean.

That's such a dumb word, "affairs."

Well, what would you call them?

Oh, I don't know.

"Dangerous liaisons," maybe.

He had a lot of those too.

Oh, I didn't tell you this, but one

of his cast off lady friends came by to see me

the other day. - You?

Whatever for?

Well, she wanted to find out whether Reeve was really

as broke as he claimed to be.

What did you tell her?

I said, of course he's broke.

He's a writer, isn't he?

Did she believe you?

Well, she went away.

Is she pretty?

Yeah, I guess so.

Why?

Oh, I don't know.

He talks too much about them that I wondered

what they're really like.

Oh, blonde, tall, young, not very articulate.

How young?

22 or so, I'd say.

Terence?

Mm-hm?

Do you think that we're stuffy?

Stuffy?

Mm-hm.

Not particularly.

We're quiet, sensible, practical, prudent.

But stuffy?

No, I don't think so.

Why?

I don't know.

Get up in the morning, go down to work.

I arrange other people's foreign travel,

and you mess about with other people's money.

It all seems so stuffy to me.

Well, i Like my wife, my home, my job, my routine.

If that's what you call stuffy, then

thank god for stuffy people.

We never take any risks.

Prudent people always try to minimize the risk.

Oh yeah, we're certainly very prudent.

Yeah, of course we are.

Well, I don't see anything wrong with taking risks.

I mean, maybe a little excitement ,

maybe even a smaller adventure.

You know why as well as I do.

People don't do such things.

Not people like us.

Mm!

Mm!

May I tell you something very confident?

Of course.

You can come cook for me anytime.

That was a wonderful dinner, Mrs. Carter.

I was wondering if I could--

On the right, down the hall.

You can't run off to Acapulco without telling her.

You'll break her heart.

Gwen, my love, this may surprise you,

but she hasn't got a heart.

All that lies beneath that admittedly attractive exterior

is a cold and calculating machine.

Her transistor might blow, that's true.

But no heart will break.

There is none.

That's utter cynicism.

Gwen's right, Reeve.

The poor girl will be hurt, you know.

Melanie?

Well, perhaps.

But Melanie should have thought of that before she tried

to gain control over my life.

I'm not really going to Mexico.

I'm just merely going to disappear for a while.

You know, fill up the deep freeze, lay in some booze,

and let the machine answer all the phone calls.

So you've done this before?

Sure.

Not only is it a welcome change, but I get just

one hell of a lot of work done.

That's rotten.

That's absolutely rotten.

What would you have me do, Gwen?

Marry the wretched girl?

Just be honest with her.

OK I will.

Melanie, my sweet, we were just talking about you.

Really?

I'm going away.

Away where?

And for how long?

Mexico, indefinitely.

I-- I don't understand.

It means, my pet, that you and I are through, done, finito.

That's not possible, Reeve.

We love each other.

Sorry, but it's over.

It's all over, Melanie.

you're Doing a terrible, terrible thing.

But I guess you know that, don't you?

Please, excuse me.

You see, Gwen, honesty is sometimes

the worst possible policy.

I felt sorry for her?

Melanie.

I don't want to discuss it.

But you did feel sorry for her?

What that man did was inexcusable.

Still it did make for a different kind of dinner party.

That's not funny, Terence, not at all.

And let's get something straight.

I don't ever want to hear Reeve Baker's name mentioned

again or him in his house, OK?

Well, do you mind if I keep him on as a client?

I don't care what you do, as long as we

don't ever talk about him.

How's Gwen?

Still mad at me, isn't she, because of Melanie?

Well, no, not really.

Yeah, sure she is.

That was a dumb thing for me to do the other night.

I brought a little something for her, sort of a peace offering.

It's my new novel.

I wrote something on the inside.

"To Gwen, who never throws anything away,

I offer friendship.

Love, Reeve."

Oh, that's really very nice.

She'll be pleased.

I hope so.

Well, I-- I gotta be going.

Damn. - What's wrong?

I've lost a button off my jacket.

I wouldn't mind, except they're a matched set,

hand-made in Mexico.

I don't see it.

Ah, neither do I. Oh, never mind.

Just save it for me if you find it.

Sure.

See you, Terence.

And thanks for the book.

Nah.

Oh!

Reeve!

I'm home.

GWEN: Hello.

What's wrong?

Nothing.

Old age, maybe.

You?

Hardly.

Here, I brought you a surprise.

Actually, it's a peace offering from Reeve.

He wrote something in the flyleaf.

Ah, maybe I'll--

I'll call him or write him a thank you note.

Well, if you write him, send this, will you?

His?

Yeah, it popped off in the office today.

So how's your love life?

Nothing to report.

I've been living like a monk.

Not reformed, I hope.

A reformed anything is always so tiresome.

No, not reformed.

Just busy.

Don't forget, I'm a corporation now.

Nice.

Yeah, that'll do.

Oh, by the way, Gwen sends her love.

Gwen? Yeah, sure.

Give her mine too, will you?

I think that's my ball over there.

[door opens]

GWEN: I'm home.

You're awfully late.

Oh, I'm sorry, darling.

I had a really picky client.

Why don't we go out to dinner?

Well actually I would like something

decent, since lunch today consisted of 18 holes

with Reeve Baker.

By the way, I think he's reformed, secretly.

Reformed?

How?

He says he's quit chasing women.

Well, maybe he's finally grown up.

[chuckling]

Thinking about going to France for a month, old buddy.

What'll I do for a golf partner?

I don't know, but I've got to get out of here for a while.

There's this 23-year-old beauty, rich.

Well, let's see.

It was what, three months ago you claimed

to be living like a monk?

Well, that was then and now's now.

I gotta cool it with this new one for a while, though.

You know, the marriage thing.

So it's the Riviera for me, pal.

Well, do a bit of research while you're there,

and it could all be tax deductible.

That's right.

I could write the whole thing off.

Terence, you're a marvel.

He said what?

He's going to France.

That's all.

To cool off his new flame, the rich heiress?

You're lying me!

Why would I lie to you?

Gwen, get in.

We need to talk.

Reeve wasn't home, was he?

No.

Don't you have a key?

Yes.

Well, he lost his, so I gave him mine.

Look, darling.

I do understand.

I really do.

And just what?

What do you understand?

Reeve and I are lovers, and we have been for many months.

But he wouldn't answer his door, would he?

Well, he's gone to France.

He's doing some research. That's all.

He's going to stand for me.

You'll see.

Gwen, you're a fool.

Don't you understand yet?

He's pulling his same old tired routine.

Freezer full of food, plenty of booze,

and the machine answering all the calls.

He hasn't gone to France.

He's just trying to dump you the only way he knows how.

That's not true.

That's not true.

Now, stop this guy and let me out.

I'm gonna find him, and I'm gonna live with him,

and I never want to see you again.

So stop the car please, right now.

For God's sake, Gwen, we're in the middle of Griffith Park.

I don't care!

Stop the car!

I want to get out!

If you insist.

That's right, Lieutenant.

She's been missing now for almost five hours.

Yes, of course.

I'll let you know if I hear from her.

Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Carter.

I'm Sergeant Demmer, robbery and homicide.

What's all this about?

Nobody would say.

Well, I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you.

Your wife was found dead in Griffith Park a short time ago.

Strangled.

Gwen, dead?

My God, are you sure?

I've got to ask you some questions.

Yes, certainly.

Do you know if she knew anyone who lives near the park?

No, no one.

Well, no one except Reeve Baker, of course.

This locket was found around your wife's neck.

It is hers, isn't it?

And the picture inside?

My God, it's Reeve!

What about this gold button?

It was found clutched in your wife's hand.

Do you know if Reeve Baker has a jacket with buttons like this?

You'd have to ask him, but I'm--

I'm almost sure he has.

Surely you don't think he killed Gwen?

Well, if we didn't, we wouldn't

have him locked up downtown.

These strands of hair were found on your wife's body.

If they match Reeve Baker's, he's done.

I'm sorry about your wife, Mr. Carter.

We'll be in touch.

REEVE (ON PHONE): This is Reeve Baker.

I-- I'll be away for a while, but

if you'll leave a message after the tone,

I'll try to get back to you.

[beep]

Reeve, this is Terence.

Let me know if there's anything I can do.

Anything at all.

[chuckling]

[theme music]