All language subtitles for Perry.Mason.S09E10.The.Case.of.the.Runaway.Racer.DVDRip.x264

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!