Original subtitles

Go, Blake, go!

That won't help. I'll still beat him.

That's what you think.

Oh, I'm sorry, sir, but there's no spectators allowed in here.

- Hey, Perry. How are you? - Hello, yeah.

I thought I was gonna have to run up and see you.

Well, I had a speaking date close by, I thought I'd save you the trip.

Oh, good.

Oh, Marge Leonard. Perry Mason.

- Nice to meet you, Miss Leonard. - Heh, it's missis.

Uh, that's mister out there in the best car on the track.

Well, you got any answers for me?

Oh, it's all right. An old friend.

That's right. We've been beating him for years.

Pete, as lawyers have been telling their clients for a long, long time,

you should have let me read that partnership agreement

before you signed it, not after.

- Well, how bad am I hooked? - Well, that depends on your partner.

According to your agreement,

you contribute driving services and such additional services

as may be required.

And share in the profits.

If, as, and when there are any.

You also share in all losses the partnership may incur.

No, no, that wasn't the deal that Rettig and I discussed.

Well, if there were deliberate misrepresentation,

perhaps we can do something.

Where's your partner? Can we talk to him?

Yeah, he's over by Pappy Ryan's pit.

See you, Marge.

All right, all right, I know you designed the gear principle,

and you own the car, Pappy,

but my shop built them for you,

and I know what I'm talking about.

That car's perfectly safe, and you know it.

I'd stake my life on it.

What about the lives of the other drivers in the race?

Your new design is such a radical departure.

Well, sure it is. That's why it's gonna pass all those other buckets

like they're standing still.

That's why I'm gonna make a million bucks.

So radical an innovation shouldn't be demonstrated in competition,

not when it can't pass a technical checkout.

Technical checkout, my eyeball. I designed that gear system.

Anybody says it's not safe just doesn't know equipment.

Something wrong, Pappy?

Heh, you bet it is.

You and your partner sure played me for a sucker, didn't you?

- How? - You talked me into letting your shop

do the engineering work on my gear system.

You took me for every cent I had,

and then your partner has me ruled off the track.

Is that true, Rettig?

Don't look at me.

Race marshal had the entry disqualified

because of technical checkout.

On your recommendation.

It's a great double play by you two.

You take all my savings,

you get rid of the only car in the race that can beat yours at the same time.

That's not true, Pappy.

I win my races on the track, not off.

You used to have a pretty good name on the circuit, Mr. Stone.

How much did he pay you to sell out?

Now, look here. I resent such allegation...

Pete, what are you doing?

You wanted to show them what your car can do,

well, let's show them.

Pete! Pete, come back here!

You can't drive for anybody else. We're partners.

Come on, move!

You see that? Not a car on the track can touch her.

With Pete driving my rig in the race, it'll be a different story.

With my car in there Saturday, Pete or no Pete,

you're licked and you know it.

Watch it!

Oh, no. Blake.

Get him out!

Please, somebody, get him out!

Somebody get him out!

Take it easy. They'll get him out.

- Let's get to the ambulance. - Pete, are you all right?

Bad cut on his head. We'll have to see.

Are you satisfied now? Have you done enough now?

- Lay off. Can't you see he's hurt? - Honest, Pappy...

Both of you.

Both of you, you took my money and now you wreck my car.

I just wanted to help.

Well, I'm gonna give you help. You're gonna go to jail.

- You and your... - Come on, this man's hurt.

You're gonna go to jail, do you hear me? Both of you.

You're gonna go to jail.

- Marge, I'm sorry. - Sure.

Pappy Ryan filled me in.

Look, I don't care what Pappy Ryan told you,

I couldn't help it.

You ought to know that.

All I know is that Blake is upstairs in some room

with people trying to mend his burned body.

The doctor said his chances are good.

Better than he had out there on the course with you.

Whoosh, he lives.

Snap, he dies.

Marge, I...

With Blake, you and Blake, all these years, all the races,

Grand Prix in Europe, Aintree in England.

We were even gonna have our own design engineering company,

Leonard and Griston.

We will. We still can.

What was it out there this morning, Pete?

Did you try to make it look like a breakdown

and Blake just got in your way by mistake?

Is that it, Pete?

Because if it is,

I want you to go upstairs and tell them that it was all a mistake.

You tell them to bring Blake's body down here in one piece.

Something went wrong with that car.

Marge, I was tooling around the track,

doing 110 and the car was running smooth as butter.

And then it just stopped.

It just stopped.

Pete, I don't know what's going on between you and Rettig.

I don't know what to believe, but that man up there,

he's not to be used in any schemes or games.

That man is special.

He's special to me too.

Come on, Marge, cut it out.

That's not gonna do any good.

Blake's gonna be okay.

He'll be out racing in no time.

Racing in what?

There's not enough left of that car to swap for a loaf of bread.

Don't worry about money.

Whatever I got, whatever I make from now on, it's yours.

No, Pete.

Oh, no, it's... No, it's no good.

You've been helping us too many times.

- We just can't go on borrowing. - What borrow? Who said borrow?

Marge, Blake and Pete, that's the way it's always been.

That's the way it's gonna be.

Okay?

Hmm?

Remember that.

Pete, your head, are you all right?

Oh, Pete, in here.

I waited for the x-ray results, Pete.

Your doctor told me there isn't any reason you can't drive Saturday.

- Thanks, Perry. - Ain't that good news, partner?

You got some good news like that for Blake Leonard too?

Look, kid, you know I'm sorry for Blake,

but like I was trying to tell the counselor here,

it's the brakes, just one of those things.

You know if you hadn't insisted on testing Ryan's car...

I tried to stop you.

Didn't you build that car?

He knows that car was perfectly safe.

I know trouble. I can smell it.

Oh, look, kid,

you got a big race coming up.

Why don't you take it easy between now and Saturday?

I'm not racing Saturday.

My best friend's here in the hospital, and I put him here.

Oh, you're not gonna miss that race, kid.

Oh, yeah, I'm gonna miss that race.

You hear that? I got a prima donna.

And he doesn't wanna race.

You think I ought to let him get away with it?

You're gonna be in that cockpit Saturday

or you and me are through.

That's another thing I wanna talk to you about.

Buying me out.

Buying you out of what?

Our partnership.

Look, kid, unless you drive and unless we win,

you know what your share of this partnership is worth?

Not a plugged nickel.

Perry, can we get an order or something

to examine the books?

You don't need an order. You're a partner.

Go ahead, examine all you want.

And you know what else you're gonna find?

We're on the hook for 50 grand.

For what purpose?

Development purposes.

That's your debt, not mine.

You wanna tell him, counselor or should I?

He's probably right, Pete.

You see how crazy you were, trying to get Ryan's car in that race?

He has the only rig that could possibly beat us,

and you're trying to cut both of our throats.

Rettig, I'm gonna get to the bottom of this,

and when I do...

Do me a favor, counselor.

Just make sure he gets a lot of rest, so he's ready to drive Saturday.

All right, Pappy, what is this mysterious bombshell

you brought me over here for?

- You'll see in one minute. - I have to know now.

I have to file my pre-race story tonight to meet our publication deadline.

All right, here it is.

What happened to my car today was no accident.

It was sabotage.

- Can you prove that? - I will, as soon as I drop the housing...

Then why? Now, who would sabotage your car?

Harvey Rettig.

Because he knew he was gonna get beat. And you can quote me.

No, I can't, Ryan.

I can't even write about it.

I am not going to have Car Racing Magazine sued

for libel, slander, defamation...

Well, how are you gonna get sued if the whole thing is my idea...

I get it.

Oh, boy.

You couldn't have been sued before

when I first gave you the dope on my new gear principle.

But you didn't write about it then either.

It wasn't newsworthy enough.

You don't want people to know about it, do you, Platte?

I'm sorry about the accident, Ryan.

If there were anything I could do...

My gosh, the time.

I've got a deadline.

Pappy?

Get out of here.

Blake's still unconscious, how do you think I feel?

Like the rat you are, I hope.

Look, Pappy, I don't blame you for being sore.

But I tried to help, and that's the truth.

The car lost power.

Tell it to the DA.

I've got enough trouble. Will you be reasonable?

I am being reasonable.

If I wasn't, I'd break you in half.

You know how much I had riding on this rig?

You and Rettig still spoiled it for me.

Well, you're not gonna get away with it.

The car lost power. I couldn't get it out of Blake's way.

Sure, it lost power.

Look at that gear train. Seized up.

Well, it froze.

- There was too much strain on it. - Yeah.

Or maybe defective work in the first place.

Or maybe a little pretest help in a hydraulic press,

just enough to weaken it short of breaking.

You and Rettig really sabotaged me.

Get out of here, you phony, before I crack your skull open with this.

Well, now, why all the doom and gloom?

Listen, the district attorney's office

is investigating the accident to Ryan's car.

Why would they wanna do a thing like that?

Because Pappy Ryan made a formal complaint of sabotage.

Ha! He can't prove a thing.

Then there is something to prove?

Now, look, Rettig,

when I agreed to go along with you, it was for one reason only:

to keep Pappy Ryan's car out of the race, nothing else.

If anything should cloud the reputation of this race,

any stigma attached to my name...

Heh, relax, Stone. Relax.

As far as you or anybody else is concerned, it was faulty design.

The gears couldn't stand the stress.

You suspected it and disqualified him.

As the test later proved, you were right.

Well, that had better be all of it.

I'm warning you, Rettig,

I'm proud of my name in this business.

It's about all I have left.

I'd do just about anything to prevent it being taken away.

Anything except back out of our little arrangement, you mean.

You cross me,

and the good name of Stone will be as obsolete as a hand crank.

No, I haven't seen Pete Griston since yesterday at the hospital,

after his accident.

Warrant for his arrest?

What's the charge, Hamilton?

I'll do that.

Della, see if you can locate Pete Griston.

DELLA: I'll get right on it.

And Paul's on his way in.

Hi, Perry.

Hello, Paul.

Paul, the district attorney's office has a warrant out

for Pete Griston and his partner.

I wanna talk to Pete before he surrenders.

Well, from what I've seen and heard this morning,

you two should have a lot to talk about.

You saw Ryan?

And Rettig and Stone and that idiot magazine reporter.

Well, Ryan threatened trouble. I thought he'd calm down.

Calm down?

That guy yells at the top of his lungs when he says good morning.

He's still screaming, thinks the whole world's out to get him.

What about Mr. Stone?

The most conservative way to describe him

is worried sick.

The accident he proclaims quite rationally was an accident.

I Called Pete Griston's apartment,

the garage, the track.

I can't locate him.

Try the hospital.

Well, was it an accident?

Here, see what you think.

I managed to sneak a few shots of Ryan's gear train

before the police lab picked it up.

Oh, I can see where the teeth are stripped.

That's Ryan's beef. They were torn clean.

He claims they were weakened.

How does Stone explain it?

Same as Rettig. Bad design, couldn't stand the stress.

No luck at the hospital, Perry.

Any other ideas?

Yeah, try that supercilious crank.

Um, what's-his-name from Car Racing Magazine?

Platte.

I ran into him in Rettig's office.

He's supposed to have an interview with Griston today.

DELLA: Will do, thanks.

I can't see that the condition of this gear

is sufficient to indict Pete and Rettig.

Indict them on what charge?

Well, sabotage.

Well, that means the lab report has Burger convinced

he can make it stick.

And that means if Blake Leonard dies,

someone's gonna be charged with murder.

Hi, kid, what's new?

- Did you see Rettig? - Nope. I'm waiting for him.

I may keep him a minute.

Take your time, baby. Heh, you're the fair-haired boy.

Not anymore. I'm not driving Saturday.

Oh?

Hey, Pete, we heard you won't drive this heap for Rettig Saturday.

I wouldn't drive anything for him. Where is he?

In the office, in a pretty bad mood too.

Well, mine's worse. He's got me mixed up in one of his deals.

If he doesn't come up with straight answers,

- I'll break every bone in his body. - Heh, help yourself.

I wouldn't be in Rettig's shoes right now for top money at Sebring.

Well, that's the way it is with married couples and partners.

A little fight every once in a while is normal.

I'll lay you 10-to-1 Pete clobbers him. He's boiling.

Gee, Pete, he ain't breathing.

So I opened the door and stepped right in.

Right then I got hit on the back of the head.

Rettig must have been behind the door.

Did you see him?

No, everything got black and full of sparks.

I tried to hit back, I remember that.

Did you connect?

I don't know, Perry.

The next thing I knew Joe and Mitch were picking me up off the floor.

Mr. Griston, would you please come in here?

Now, would you assume the position you were in when they found you?

You say that you were struck from behind?

Yeah.

Well, then, how did Rettig's body get in front of you?

I don't know.

Do you remember grabbing this?

No.

You should have remembered.

You killed him with it.

That assumption is premature, lieutenant.

I don't think so, Perry.

Not unless he can explain the position of the body.

I can't explain it. I told you, he hit me from behind.

Yes, there's quite a bump there.

The doc said it was open and bleeding.

Yeah.

I was told that you had an accident this morning in your auto.

- Hurt your head. - Mm-hm.

The doc also said you could have started the bleeding again

if you had ripped off the plaster.

Now, listen, lieutenant...

Just a minute, I'll listen.

First, you insist

that Rettig struck you from behind with a wrench, is that right?

I guess it was with a wrench. He was holding it.

Rettig couldn't have struck you with that wrench, Mr. Griston.

The arm that was holding it is broken.

What are you getting at, Steve?

Rettig's arm is broken

as though it were held up to protect his head.

Now, it could be that he was trying to protect himself from Griston.

It could be that Griston murdered him.

Then to cover it up,

pulled the plaster off his head, opening the wound,

and then acted dazed when these two fellows came in.

It all could be.

Were there fingerprints on the weapon?

No, it was too greasy. They were smudged.

Who else was here tonight?

Pappy Ryan, but he left before Pete arrived.

I have a call out for him. He isn't home.

Perry, I'm gonna have to take your client in to custody.

Let's go.

Did he do it? Did he really knock Harvey off?

I'm Dan Platte, press pass. And you are Perry Mason.

Ha, ha, I read as well as write.

You know, I just tried to call Harvey, but a policeman answered the phone.

Do they have a line on the killer yet?

The police don't keep me that closely informed, Mr. Platte.

Well, what about suspects? They must be breathing hard after somebody?

You'll have to ask them.

Well, if you don't feel like answering questions,

how about asking them?

I've seen you in court. You're good at it.

Thank you. What sort of questions?

Oh, like, uh,

"Mr. Platte, where were you when Rettig was killed?"

You consider yourself a suspect? - Don't you?

It happens that I was at County General Hospital

trying to see Blake Leonard.

I wanted to do a human interest yarn

on how it feels to know you'll never drive again.

Mr. Platte, I realize you're the sort of man

who revels in being the center of attention.

But let me advise you,

deliberately courting suspicion of murder

doesn't make you appear heroic.

You're gonna ask me to drop the charges, right?

You're gonna tell me he's got new troubles now,

so why don't I have a heart?

Heh, sorry, mister, no heart.

I wanna ask you about Harvey Rettig.

I got no time to gab, I got a car to test.

Not my own.

But when your big chance goes down the drain,

you still gotta eat.

- So long, mister. - I'll wait.

I'll be a while.

I'll wait.

You don't have to wait. Climb in.

We'll talk while we take a little run around the track.

Get this guy a helmet.

Coming?

Okay, you wanted to talk.

Now that you're out of the race, who do you pick to win?

- It depends. - On what?

On whether or not Rettig's car goes.

After what happened to him.

You saw Rettig last night?

Sure I saw him. What about it?

Was he alive when you left?

You got a lot of guts, mister.

That doesn't answer my question.

Yes, he was alive when I left.

Who can testify to that?

The mechanics, Mitch and Joe. They saw me leave.

And at that time, Rettig was on the telephone

calling the telegraph company. You can check that.

I will.

They want the track cleared.

That's too bad.

Forgive me for intruding, Mrs. Leonard.

The nurse said you wouldn't come out.

My husband can't be disturbed, Mr. Mason.

I won't disturb your husband.

All right, come in.

What do you want?

Was Dan Platte here last night?

Yes, for a while.

- What time did he leave? - I don't know.

The nurse said he wanted to see Blake and I wouldn't let him in.

What's so important about the time he left?

Harvey Rettig is dead, Mrs. Leonard.

You mean murdered, Mr. Mason.

I read the newspapers.

If Rettig was still alive, I'd kill him myself for what he did.

Where were you around 7:00 last night?

Right here with my husband.

Perry, Ryan's story checks out.

Rettig did send a cable to Rome.

The telegraph company has it marked 6:51.

- Mechanics? - Say that Ryan left at 6:40.

They remember because he made a crack about them working overtime.

Hmm. What was the message, Paul?

"Received report that deal is off. Gear principle unsafe.

Advise against further use. Will explain later."

- Signed, Rettig. - Received report.

Rettig received a cable earlier from Rome, at 5:15.

"Tested prototype. Your gear principle a sensation.

If we win Grand Prix, our deal final."

This one signed Pinierri.

- Paul, by any chance... - We were in luck.

The same clerk who received the message also took the answer.

- Says it was the same voice. - Hmm.

Paul, having the words is a good start.

Now we need the translation.

Come in.

Make yourselves comfortable.

Would you care for some sherry?

- Thank you. - I won't be a minute.

Money. Lots and lots of money.

- Oh, don't be too sure. - Huh?

When we called, he answered the phone.

When we rang, he answered the door.

Now he's getting the sherry.

Money or a front?

Professor, would you tell the audience what's written in the lady's watchband?

- One dollar, 49. - Right you are, professor.

A terrible business, Rettig's being killed.

Awful publicity for us.

I'm sure it must upset you.

Your association with auto racing must bring you into contact

with many people in the sport.

Oh, yes.

Our family has been awarding the Stone Trophy for many years.

I know most of them very well indeed.

Who's Pinierri?

Inzo Pinierri, a top Italian driver and sports car builder.

Why do you ask?

Any idea why he would contact Rettig?

Perhaps Rettig did some work for him, I don't know.

Thank you.

Stone residence.

This is Mr. Stone speaking.

Yes, just a moment please.

- For you. - Thank you.

Hello? Yes, Della?

One of your operatives checked in.

He found out who loaned Harvey Rettig the $50,000.

Yes?

He owns a bar on the east side of town,

is a gambler and a bookmaker, and his name is Marty Webb.

I know him.

Well, your man contacted Webb.

He claims the note has Pete Griston's signature.

I'll tell Perry.

This fills the one blank in Burger's case.

Why didn't you tell me your signature was on that note?

I didn't know about it till last night.

I signed so many things, Perry.

I was supposed to do the driving

and Rettig was gonna handle the business.

He'd come out to the track with a whole briefcase

full of stuff for me to sign and just shove it in front of me.

You said you knew about your signature last night. How?

Webb. Marty Webb, the guy who made the loan to Rettig.

He was outside the garage last night when I went to see Rettig.

Why was he there?

I guess to make sure I was gonna drive Saturday.

And that's when he told me about the deal.

And you told him you weren't driving.

Yeah. Boy, he blew a gasket.

That's when he showed me the note with my signature on it.

He said he'd break both of us, Rettig and me,

if I didn't drive Saturday and win.

That was another thing I was gonna discuss with my partner

if I'd had the chance.

Can you imagine what Hamilton Burger will do

with that information?

But he doesn't know. You're the only one I've told.

And there was no record of it when you and the DA and the police

searched Rettig's office and apartment.

Burger will still find out.

- Well, how? - From Webb.

Yes, so you're Perry Mason, huh? Heh, I'm Marty Webb.

And my friend, Paul Drake.

I know a private dick when I see one.

Even when he's gotten flush enough to run the town's biggest agency.

No offense, buddy.

What can I do for you, Mason?

I'd like to talk with you about a loan you made to Harvey Rettig.

I read he got hit, pfft, but I didn't have nothing to do with it.

Killing ain't one of my rackets.

How did you overlook it?

Don't get funny.

The loan, Mr. Webb.

Yeah, I gave him 50 G's.

At what interest, 20 percent?

No interest.

I figured to come out on the race Saturday.

He guaranteed me Pete Griston was gonna win it.

How could he guarantee that?

By forcing every other car with a chance to win out of the race?

Hmm, you said it, I didn't.

From what I understand, though, he did a pretty good job of that.

Rettig also said it.

Remember the note Pete Griston told us about in Rettig's office file?

You mean concerning his arrangement with Mr. Webb?

Now, wait a minute,

don't try to tie me in with anything Rettig pulled.

- Sure, I wanted Pete to win. - Why?

Heh, my bets, what else?

I laid a pretty healthy bundle, and the odds were right.

Did Mr. Rettig give you any explanation of why he needed the $50,000?

Yeah, he said he had the deal of his life in the palm of his hand,

but he needed 50 G's to sew up a couple of guys.

What couple of guys?

How do you know there was anyone else involved?

Because one of them come to see me.

Who?

I said all I'm gonna.

I'd like to know the name of the man who came to see you, Mr. Webb.

Is that so?

Then go find him and quit bugging me.

- I got my own problems. - Yes, you have.

One problem being a logical explanation

of your presence outside Rettig's garage

the night he was killed.

And then there's the note in his office file in Rettig's handwriting

describing his arrangement with you.

So?

So when the district attorney finds it and realizes its significance,

he'll have a pretty strong basis for a charge of fraud against you.

Heh, you really scare me, counselor.

I'm all upset.

Well, we baited the hook again.

The question is who's gonna bite?

I told the district attorney's office you were going in here again,

but how could you have missed anything before,

the way Steve Drumm's men go over a place?

Della, primarily due to Paul's talent as a con man,

Stone, Ryan, Platte, and Mr. Webb have reason to believe

there's something in Rettig's office files

that incriminates them, individually.

If one of them shows up, what have we proven?

Which of them had access to Rettig's office through the rear door, we hope.

That's if one of our fish does take the bait.

I'll be right across the street.

If I spot anyone, I'll ring the office phone twice.

Sit down, Della.

I'll only be a second, buddy. I gotta call my wife.

If I don't, she gets mad.

Perry.

Will you get...? Look, this is urgent.

My wife, you know, she talks, talks, talks.

Who is it?

Harvey Rettig's personal file.

Give it back to me, please.

Mrs. Leonard, you're putting yourself in an indefensible position.

I can take care of myself. Don't worry about me.

Thanks for the telephone call.

Well, there was this drunk, and he was talking to...

Oh, never mind.

I think we're entitled to an explanation, Mrs. Leonard.

First, what's in there?

This would prove why Harvey Rettig deliberately caused that accident

that nearly killed my husband.

And what were you planning to do with it?

Well, leave it here so it could be found by the police.

Why did you have to break in here? Why not just give it to the police?

Because I...

I would have to explain to them where I got it and how and when.

You got it by letting yourself in the rear door

as you did just now.

And on the night Harvey Rettig was murdered.

Before he was murdered.

I was opening the file, and...

And I heard Rettig coming in through the shop.

Well, I ran.

With your husband gravely injured and in the hospital,

apparently put there by Rettig, you had motive and opportunity.

I didn't kill Harvey Rettig, Mr. Mason.

I'm not the district attorney, Mrs. Leonard.

What I think is not important.

But I am Pete Griston's attorney,

and I wanna know how you managed to open that back door.

Well, everybody knew how to open that back door.

- Everybody? - Well, everyone who knew Rettig.

That's how he opened it, with a nail file.

It was a running joke.

Didn't turn out to be too funny to Rettig.

Well, I'm not going to say anything else.

Now, if you wanna call the police, call them and get it over with.

Mrs. Leonard, you may go,

and I hope you have a license for that gun.

Good night, Mrs. Leonard.

Now, let's see what's in here.

Here we are, Perry.

A copy of the note to Marty Webb for $50,000,

signed by Harvey Rettig and Pete Griston.

Here's some correspondence from Rome, from Pinierri.

"And all the tests are proving satisfactory.

We are elated with your new gear design.

If it proves out in competition,

we will make a fortune together in European sales alone."

Rettig's design. I thought you said it was Ryan's?

So I was led to believe.

Dan Platte of Racing Car Magazine has been here for the past two days

and has been very interested in the new principle.

He's promised to do an article about it.

I don't understand how Rettig can sell Ryan's design.

It's called piracy, Della. Good old-fashioned piracy.

Perry, what do you make of the deal with Marty Webb?

Rettig needed a large sum of money and was so eager to get it,

he agreed to Webb's terms. He had to win that race.

But I don't understand why he needed it so badly.

His cash position wasn't good,

but the partnership certainly wasn't bankrupt.

Good evening, everybody.

- Hi, lieutenant. - Hello, Paul.

Lieutenant Drumm, what a pleasant surprise.

Thank you, Della.

And now may I present our police stakeout?

He tells me there's been an awful lot of traffic going through here.

Oh, by the way, Perry,

I spoke to Mrs. Leonard before I sent her downtown.

Now, I know that you wouldn't intentionally withhold information,

even if it incriminated your client.

Steve, if there ever was doubt as to his innocence,

that doubt is now gone.

- Steve. - Yes.

Well, we've got to have it all.

So my accountant said, "Terrance, my boy,

you've just bought Uncle Sam a new destroyer.

Hello, counselor, why don't you join us?

Aah. And try the chowder, it's delicious.

What did you do, strain it over two clams?

I'll send you a waiter. He gets paid to be insulted.

Well, I have to go back to my office in a few minutes,

but I wouldn't pass up a chance to bait the district attorney.

Pump the district attorney, that what you mean?

Would you care for a review?

The defendant's wounds,

the result of his automobile accident that same morning.

His dazed condition, playacting.

His position relative to the position of the dead body,

highly suspect.

And as to his motives,

I've got a parade of witnesses to testify to the hatred that existed

between your client and his victim.

You do of course know about the back door.

Locked from the inside.

I've been told that everyone who knew Rettig

knew about the back door,

including Marge Leonard who you picked up last night.

- Why... - Well, who else, for example,

knew about it except the lady you mentioned?

Oh, Dan Platte, Oliver Stone, Pappy Ryan.

And your client?

All of those people are gonna be at that racetrack inquiry

- this afternoon, aren't they? - They'll be there.

That racetrack accident seemed to set off a chain of events

leading up to Rettig's murder.

I think I'd better be there myself.

I have some questions I'd like to ask.

This will all become part of the record for the track commission.

I appreciate your attendance here this afternoon,

and I can assure you that my first and only concern is...

What are you doing here?

This isn't an open inquiry.

Don't con me, mister. I got your wire, so I'm here.

I sent you no telegram.

Now, listen, wise guy.

Sit down, Mr. Webb.

I don't know what's going on here. - Be patient, you'll find out.

Uh, Mr. Mason, I believe you started to ask me...

Perhaps Mr. Platte would be able to answer.

Although, Mr. Platte, I realize you're actually an outsider,

- not really involved in the sport. - Who says I'm an outsider?

I'm as much a part of racing as any of these people.

No offense, Mr. Platte. I meant...

I meant, well, you weren't personally involved.

As a writer, you knew Mr. Rettig, but not on a personal basis.

You didn't, for instance, know about the rear entrance to Rettig's office.

Sure, I did.

Did you use that door to visit Rettig?

Sure, I...

But I didn't visit him very often.

Why should I?

Perhaps to talk with him

about how well his new equipment was working out in Italy.

I don't know about any equipment in Italy.

That's strange.

There was a letter from Pinierri saying that you had seen it

and that you would write about it.

Well, you know how it is with a writer.

Everyone has a story to tell him.

So you make them feel good when you say you'll write it up.

In other words, you're a phony.

- What? - Phony, Mr. Platte.

You tell people you'll write about them or their products

just so they'll fawn over you and give you special attention.

That's not so. I write up a lot of things.

Would you have written about something

as revolutionary as a new gear design?

- Of course. - Then why didn't you?

Well, I was waiting until...

Until what, Mr. Platte?

Until you had spent all your pay-off money from Rettig,

money paid to you to bury the story.

I don't know what you're talking about.

I'm talking about the fact that you stumbled on

to a unique gear modification in Italy

which Rettig claimed as his own design,

but which was actually pirated from Mr. Ryan.

You knew it and you didn't open your mouth.

You can't prove anything.

I think we already have.

Unless you have another way to account

for certain personal financial transactions

since your return from Italy.

All right.

Yes,

I received money from Rettig not to write the article,

but it was offered to me by Rettig.

You can't prove I demanded it. You can't prove blackmail.

I wonder if Mr. Rettig could,

were he alive.

It was your pressure on Rettig that was a prime mover

for much of what happened, Mr. Platte.

And of course Rettig's attempts to force Pete Griston

into driving against his will

only added to Griston's motives for killing him.

Oh, Pete wasn't the only one with a motive.

Someone else was involved with Rettig.

Perhaps that person found it necessary to cover up the fact.

Mr. Webb, who else was in on that deal?

Now, listen, I ain't under oath.

I don't have to answer questions, and I won't without my lawyer.

This is an informal gathering. You're under no compulsion.

However, in court tomorrow, we'll do it properly for you.

Bring your lawyer, by all means. I assure you we'll put you under oath.

Okay, okay.

He's the guy.

And he got me out here with this telegram.

"Must see you, race marshal's tent, this date 2 p.m."

Signed, Oliver Stone.

He's lying. I sent no such telegram.

And I wasn't part of any deal.

One thing at a time.

What about the deal, Mr. Webb?

Well, after Rettig was knocked off, I wanted to call it off.

How?

Hadn't you made your bets on the future book at long odds?

Then there was no way you could cancel,

even if Rettig's car didn't run.

But if there weren't any race at all...

So you contacted Mr. Stone and told him to cancel.

I called him.

Then he come around to see me,

blowing his stack about the race had to go on,

all about the good name of Stone and family tradition.

I thought you were in it.

That's why you disqualified my car.

No. No, I wouldn't.

I have my reputation to think of.

Your reputation is very dear to you, isn't it?

Your involvement with Rettig could have had you

permanently barred from racing, couldn't it, Mr. Stone.

Oh, please, you must keep this quiet.

I needed the money from Rettig to keep my home,

to continue sponsoring the race.

I couldn't bear to have anyone find out.

You waited for that gear to fall apart, didn't you?

You knew it would.

You disqualified my car.

On proper grounds.

The technical men didn't think the gear principle looked safe.

And you saw what happened on the track. It fell apart.

You all saw it.

I didn't know anything more, just that the gear was unsafe.

That's a lie.

You just made it look that way to cover your own tracks.

No, Rettig could tell you...

He would have told you...

But he can't tell us a thing now, can he?

Mr. Mason, what are you saying?

I tell you, I thought the gear was unsafe.

Liar. You and Rettig both said that to protect yourselves.

But, Mr. Ryan, Rettig built it for you.

Built it and stole it. Don't you see, Mason?

Rettig was afraid that if I raced that car,

the word would get out about my gear principle.

But after the accident,

when he knew I was onto him, he got scared.

That's why he was covering up as fast as Stone was.

How?

Well, that's why he sent the cable to Pinierri, calling the deal off.

How did you know what was in the cable, Mr. Ryan?

Only Mr. Burger, the telegraph company and I

were given that information.

Well, I overheard Rettig on the phone.

You said you left as he was placing the call.

Well, yes. Yes, I did, but...

Mr. Ryan, it's very easy to send a wire and sign someone else's name.

In fact, that's how Mr. Webb came to be here.

He received a telegram in Mr. Stone's name.

Now, Mr. Ryan, you knew what was in that cable

because you sent it.

Joe, didn't Mr. Ryan arrive before Rettig?

Didn't you let him in?

- Didn't you let him wait in the office? - Yeah, I did.

Mr. Ryan, you received the first cable.

That's why the telegraph operator said the same voice

received and sent the messages.

You knew what was going on

as soon as you heard Pinierri's message.

You became enraged.

And when Rettig came in,

you turned on him and you killed him.

Yes, that makes sense.

You left the garage then,

making sure these men, Joe and Mitch,

knew what time you left.

You came around to the rear, let yourself in,

and then you sent a cable to Pinierri in Italy,

making it look as though Rettig were still alive.

There's one point I don't understand, Mr. Ryan.

Why did you tell Pinierri the deal was off?

Why did you tell him the gear principle was unsafe?

Because I didn't want him to have it.

It was mine. He had no right.

He had no right.

You had no right to kill.

Blake, this is really something.

Why don't you get in, try it?

Sure, if you can fold those long legs in there. Here you are.

Sure like to drive one of these one day.

You'd be great at it.

He's known as the Terror of the Freeways.

I am undoubtedly the world's safest driver.

You ought to wear one of those helmets more often.

It makes you look so dashing.

Say, listen, Perry, I don't know when I'm gonna be able to pay you.

It took all the money I could scrape up to get the car ready.

You just win our first race next week, partner.

You do that, Pete,

and we'll put half the purse in the Pay Perry fund.

Ha, ha, there's no rush about that.

As attorney for the new Leonard-Griston combine,

I wanna be sure this company is solvent right from the start.

Well, I didn't know I was gonna have a passenger on my first spin.

Company?

He'll probably drive it for you.

- I just might do that. - Yeah, that's him, Daredevil Drake.

But I, uh, remembered I have an appointment.

Hey, wait a minute, let me out of this thing!