All language subtitles for Rockford Files s05e13 With The French Heel Back Can The Neru Jacket Be Fa Behind.eng

You speak
of black market goods.

Well, hells bells,
I've bought more than one stolen calf in my time.

...top knot.

What makes
it all very new and very now is the full length...

"Private detective."
Now there's a really creepy occupation.

They don't slash their wrists
or mangle themselves.

Carol was wearing
a hospital smock.

You should design
exclusively for the dead.

Hey, what do you say
let's talk, huh?

No inglese.

ROCKFORD
This is Jim Rockford.

At the tone, leave your name
and message.

I'll get back to you.

Jim, Coop.

I'm at the address
you wrote down for the poker game tonight.

This is a gas station,
it's closed.

There's no one around
and now my car is stalled.

Now, you got to
call me at 466-3...

I thought you were
going to buy a new deck of cards.

Well, I did buy
a new deck of cards,

but Angel's been
playing with these.

You know how
he's always sitting there

bending the cards
and flipping them in the wastebasket.

I had to borrow some
from L.J. Hello.

Jim, it's Carol Calcote.
I need help.

Oh, Carol?

Yes.
I haven't much time. I'm in terrible trouble!

I think somebody's
trying to kill me.

I ran.
I don't even have my shoes.

Where are you?

Oh, Lord!

Carol!

Carol?

Rocky,
hang on to this phone.

If anybody picks it up,
don't let them hang up.

I'm going over
to the restaurant and trace the call.

Anybody there?

Hello.

Hello, anybody there?

I've been waiting on
this phone for 35 minutes.

Now, don't hang up!

Okay.

Are you the complainant?
Yeah.

Did you find anything?
Not a thing.

There's a guy at
the other end of the phone,

keeps screaming,
"Don't hang up!"

Oh, that's my dad.

Yeah, Dad,
the police are here.

They're searching.

Searching for what?

Look,
I don't mind sitting here,

listening to my joints
get stiff,

but I would like to know...

Hey! Hang on, Dad!
Hang on!

Hey, Officer! Wait, wait!

Where are you going?
You're not finished here.

Finish, what? Where?
You've been practical joked, friend.

There's nobody. Nothing.

We just got a 187,
a priority call. Sorry.

Hey, Dad, that was
the police, leaving.

I know where Carol stays
when she's in town.

It's a hotel
called the Trenton Key. I'll go over there and check.

What in blazes
is going on, sonny?

Dad, when I find out
something,

I'll explain it to you.

Carol?

Carol?

Oh, my God!

I don't understand it, Jim.

I just don't understand.

Boy!

Why does a nice package
like that go out a window?

I can't figure suicide.

Never could.

I had an aunt once
closed her own book.

Only she used pills.

Suicide,
is that how you figure this? Suicide?

Yeah.

It isn't a suicide,
Frank.

Oh, it isn't, huh?

Come on, Rockford.

You said she called you,
right?

She said
she was terrified, emotional terror,

anxiety, religious reference.

And out the window.

You're forgetting
she told me someone was trying to kill her.

Maybe she was lying to you.
Did you ever think of that?

She was wearing
a hospital gown.

That can be explained
a hundred ways.

She's in the hospital,
okay?

The tests come back.

She has some kind
of incurable disease

and then
she gets terrified and goes out the window.

You're checking
the hospital?

Well, of course not yet.
I just got here.

Hey, Rockford, this is
an official investigation.

You are a civilian.
That gives you no status.

I am also
the complainant who called the police three hours ago

and got treated like
a Duncan yoyo by two cops,

who dashed off
on a murder call.

Then I come here
and I find Carol dead.

Now, if your
coroner puts the time of death after that call,

your department is in trouble.

Well, that call
must have been the Consuello Hooper murder.

Whatever.

That is a good, clean murder,
Rockford. This?

This is nothing
but a suicide.

Nothing but a suicide.

I have a little experience
in these things.

Oh, how much?

I think it was six weeks,
at last count.

Six weeks is a long time
when you're working 10 hour days.

Ask my wife Dorie.

A long time.

A very long time.

Hey, I've been
hanging on this phone for almost 20 minutes.

Yeah. Okay. Okay.

Billings, what's going on?

Are you kidding?
That Argentine playgirl,

the one that married
that rock star,

got popped tonight.

The press room is
jammed with reporters.

Well,
you tell Mr. Hooper, it's Lieutenant Becker,

at the Los Angeles
Police Department.

Los Angeles, California.

London, England.
Stevie Hooper.

Hey, Dennis,
a friend of mine got murdered tonight,

and Dusenberg, that
six weeks homicide veteran...

What do you mean you
can't get through to him?

I thought
you said you were sitting right next to him?

And you still can't
get through to him?

Would you have him call me?

Thank you!

He says it's a suicide.

What suicide?
It's first-degree murder.

Well, that's what I said.
But he saw the window,

that's all he can
think of is suicide.

What window?
Consuello Hooper got it in the bathtub with a...

We're not talking about
the same thing, are we?

I don't think so.
Go.

Carol Calcote,
an old friend of mine.

But Dusey's
handling that case.

Well, Dusey keeps
smelling the case up with split second assumptions.

You know how much
I'd love to help you, Jim,

but Consuello Hooper
got it tonight.

Now, that's
a very big homicide.

I've already
been photographed by the 11:00 news.

I've been talking into
AP and UPI mikes all night.

And believe me
when I tell you,

it's a real
popcorn machine.

Dennis, I need some help.

This girl meant
a lot to me once and I know she was murdered.

Well,
you give it to Dusenberg.

Give him all your ideas.

He's a real good kid.

Becker here.

Yeah. Okay.

No. Yeah.

Okay.

Okay.
Okay.

Okay.

Yeah.

Are you kidding, Officer?

Of course not, Miss Hatch.

That's the way I see it.

Carol Calcote would
never kill herself.

Never in a million years.

So start revising
your theories.

Hey, you sound like
somebody I should talk to.

Get out of my way!

I'm sorry.
I don't usually break down crying like that.

It's not my style,
but she was...

She was special.

It's okay, Miss Hatch.
She was special to me, too.

Yeah, well, you haven't
started crying yet,

so we don't really
know for sure, do we?

Is that your style,
Miss Hatch?

I beg your pardon?

Well, you bait people

and then wait and see
what comes back?

I had a psychiatrist
in New York,

he called me
a counterpuncher.

He said that
one of the reasons I failed as a fashion model

was that I was
afraid to swing first.

That's something
I'm attempting to correct.

I was a friend of Carol's.

And I agree with you,
that she wasn't a suicide.

So that should give us
enough common ground

that we could sit
and try and explore a few alternatives.

How can the police
possibly think that

someone like Carol
could commit suicide?

No fashion model would
throw herself out of a window.

That's ridiculous!

Really?

Carol was a high fashion
model. She did collections.

She was the cream
of the business.

Girls on Carol's level develop

a reverence
about their bodies.

They don't slash their wrists
or mangle themselves.

If they go, it's with pills.

Usually with full makeup
and dinner pajamas.

Carol was wearing
a hospital smock.

Doesn't that
tell you something?

A high fashion model
wearing a hospital smock?

It might tell me
something tomorrow

after I've had a chance
to check a few hospitals.

Is someone paying you
for all this concern?

I mean,
you said you were a private detective.

Do you have a client?

Maybe I'm a counterpuncher,
too, Miss Hatch.

Alta.

Did you make
that up yourself?

You betcha.

But it still left me
an inch too short with no takers.

To be a high fashion model
you have to have a certain proportion.

And you have to
have what's called editorial quality.

Carol had that, I didn't.

So I quit modeling.

Look, do you think
we could get out of here?

I've been on a plane for
five hours, up all night,

and I've got to be at
Masters' studio tomorrow.

I thought you said
you quit modeling.

I did.
I'm a lighting engineer.

Is that with a little hat
and an engine full of steam?

Why don't you tell me
about Masters?

I know he's one of the
fashion world's big numbers

and he owns
a string of boutiques.

But what else?

For a while
he limited himself to New York and now LA.

He rents a '20s mansion
from the silent film days.

Like most
Eastern couturiers,

he'd like to abandon
Southern California completely.

Why? Afraid of earthquakes?

Worse, afraid of the buyers.

No one knows
what's going to sell.

Italian designers
divide Italy at Naples.

Everything south
of that is Africa.

Couturiers divide California
at Hearst Castle.

South of that is Oz.

So the big problem here
is trying to figure out

what the munchkins
will go for.

Why does he show in LA?

His styles
have worked here.

He doesn't compete
with the old line houses.

He's trendy, innovative

and Southern Californians
like that.

They think
they're the future.

They may be right.

Oh, this is my car.
Can I give you a lift?

Yes, I'm staying
at the Trenton Key. Trenton Key Hotel.

Like Carol. Yeah,
it's a fashion hangout.

But, somehow, I think...

I think I'd really
hate it there tonight.

I have a couch
you could use.

No invitation to
the master suite?

I'm not looking
for action, Miss Hatch.

Just trying
to be a friend.

You haven't called
me by my first name.

You haven't told it to me.

It's Margaret,
Margaret Hatch. From Bend, Oregon.

My parents are in
the dairy business

and I'd love your couch,
Jim.

You got it, Margaret.

Jim, I'm not sure
how Masters is going to react.

I just work for him.

Well,
you just point him out and I'll take it from there.

Ah, Alta,
I'm jolly glad you're here.

We're all working
through the anguish.

I think
it's the only way. Ready to go to work?

Yeah.

I had to fire
my set decorator.

He showed up with
rolls of blue crepe and a staple gun.

Now, what
I want is a fluorescent grayish look at stage rear,

then soft light
toward the front

and at the end
of the ramp here.

See,
I need that sterile effect for a backdrop.

Uh, along here,

filtered bright
without the glare, like this California sun

clawing through the smog, eh?

Okay, well, then,
I'll just hood the fluorescents.

And add a few overheads.

Hmm. Right to the end.

No dress rehearsal.

And you know how models are
when they can't see the end of the ramp.

Who let you in?

I let myself in,
Mr. Masters.

Hmm.

"Private detective."

Now, there's a really
creepy occupation.

Well, we can't all
be fortunate enough

to sell old French
paratrooper pants

to fashion-conscious
middle America.

Don't knock what sells,
buddy.

I think Carol Calcote
was murdered.

Oh, really?

Like some old
Bogie movie, eh?

I haven't got
time for this.

I have one God-awful
screaming headache

brought on by the
logistics of this show.

And your dead model, Carol,

is just a little
inconvenience, right?

Did you hear
what I just said?

I just said that
I didn't have time to discuss dear Carol,

because
of this damned show.

My, my, my.
Haven't we become obsessed with our own little problems.

Sometimes
I think we need to just drop everything

and go to the beach
for the day.

I despise what we just said,
Mr. Rockford.

Of course,
you can have as much of our time as you require.

Well, we won't
need much time.

We just want to
ask a few questions.

I'm sorry about
that affectation.

I picked it up in
Milano last season.

Mr. Masters.

Pardon...
Not now, Margo.

It's Mr. Bancroft.

Ah, money men.

Could we talk in my office?
It's right upstairs.

I've got some aspirin
up there.

I'll just be
a few minutes.

Yes, Mr. Bancroft?

Yes, I know.

Look, the show will
go on as scheduled.

I haven't had a good week,
Mr. Rockford.

I've lost two close friends,
Consuello Hooper and Carol.

I'm opening a collection
on Friday.

And I've assumed
the obligation

of designing
Consuello's burial gown.

You're working for
someone interested in Carol's death?

No, no.
Carol was a friend.

I just don't think
she would commit suicide.

How about you?

I'll never forget
the first time I met her.

She showed up
an hour late,

exploded into the atelier
in a huge Mongolian coat,

her pipe-cleaner legs
garbed in beige wooly socks, T-strap flats.

She looked divinely
improbable, laughing, babbling excuses, apologies.

There was nothing suicidal
about Carol.

How about her private life?

Well, she ran with
a rather rough crowd.

The latest was
a leather model from Barucci's.

It's not uncommon.
Model's private lives are often a gesture

against the artificial climate
they work in.

They like to come down
from the pedestal?

See, this is
difficult for me.

You see, I have
a theory of my own.

It's a nasty
little theory,

and, well, since Carol
is dead and Barucci is so damned anxious

to sue at the drop of a hat,

I don't know
what to do about it.

Maybe another aspirin
would help.

You've got quite
a tongue on you.

Isn't there some sort of
privilege thing that works with a private detective?

Yeah, but it only
exists with a client.

Despite the preconceptions
you doubtless had

about me thus far,
I do have a soul, Mr...

Rockford.
I know it's a toughie, but I was born with it.

Well, I feel I'd like to
pursue my own theories about her death.

If I hired you
and you worked for me,

then anything we discussed
would be confidential?

Yeah, well,
unless it ends up in court.

Then I could be questioned
and I'd have to talk.

If it ends up in court,
we'll all have to talk.

Will you work for me,
Mr. Rockford?

Will you please
explore a theory I have

that might have
caused Carol's death?

I'll pay your price.

Well, it's $250 a day
plus expenses.

Jolly good.

Will you follow me?

Now,

this is called a toile.

It's part of the pattern
for an original dress design of mine.

You see the initial "M"
stitched into the fabric,

the serial number
in the corner.

They're unique.
So is that shade of plum.

This piece along
with four or five others

make up the pattern
for a Masters original.

Who buys them?

Boutiques, fashion houses,
they reproduce them, stitch for stitch

and sell
the finished garment under our licensing agreement.

That's where
the problem lies.

Two sets of patterns are
missing from a fitting room

that she had access to.

Carol?

Who knows how much
influence or intimidation

Carol was subjected to
by her boyfriend?

The model at Barucci's.

And you think the missing
patterns might be there?

His models are grown up
street urchins from Naples.

Carol was dating
one of them called Luigi.

Perhaps she came
to her senses.

Decided not to
sell my designs.

Who knows
what Luigi or Barucci himself might have done?

It's a tough business.

I wouldn't exclude murder.

I guess I'll start
with the leather crowd at Barucci's.

Yeah, how you doing?
You Luigi?

Luigi?

No. Pietro.

Oh, well,
where you got all the good stuff hangered here, Pete?

No, no, no inglese,
no inglese. No?

Hi.
Hello, I am Sophia.

May I help you?
Why, sure, sure. Here.

Jimmy Joe Meeker.

Yeah, that's my shipping line.

They also got
a line of horses, a line of tall tales

and a line I reserve for
pretty ladies like yourself.

Thank you.
You're from Dallas?

No, Houston, honey.

Houston.
Houston, yeah, yeah.

Yeah, and I got myself one
hellatious problem, you know.

Sue Ellen,
that's my saddle mate,

she's going to be
coming into town, see, and before I left she said,

"Jimmy Joe,
how come you never give me any arrival presents

"like old Razor Boyd Hopkins
does Lizzy

"every time
they go zipping up to New York for the weekend?"

I beg your pardon?

Yeah, well, old Boyd,

yeah, well, he's an old
poker playing buddy of mine.

You know,
Hopkins, Eaton and Smith,

that's the Range Equipment
and Heavy Harvesters?

Oh, yes, of course.

Yeah, yeah, well,
old Boyd, you know,

he can spend money
like it's West Virginia ditch water.

Yeah, he and Sue Ellen,
they got me figured I'm some kind of cheapskate.

So what I need, honey,
is I need some real prime goods.

I'm going to
need something...

Oh, a dress or
a coat or something

that is so fine and so new
Sue Ellen ain't never seen

the pattern or the cut on
no other West Texas honeycup.

Yes, sir, now they
tell me up and down Rodeo Drive here that

you got yourself
a little back room for the special buyer.

You know,
you get a dude in here,

just don't care what's
written on the price tag,

you take him
in the back room,

he just gets himself
wasted on fine goods, huh?

They said to
ask for Luigi.

Ah, yes, something special.
Yes, sir.

It so happens we do.
Yes.

Well, fine.
That's real fine.

Now which way are you
gonna run this old bull?

This way.

Thanks, Pete.

I'm Luigi.
You ask for me?

Yeah, how you
doing there, Luigi?

Yeah, they tell me that
you whip up a fine fashion omelet.

You know, new patterns
ain't never been seen. Mucho lire.

You speak
of black market goods.

Well, hells bells,
I've bought more than one stolen calf in my time.

I got no problem
with buying stuff off the back of the truck.

No problem at all.

We got some
special merchandise,

but Barucci himself
would have to sell it to you.

Look, this is very smart.
We can make it up in her size.

You know,
Mrs. Meeker's size.

Yeah, I don't think so,
honey, no, no.

No? I'm sorry.

Hello? Yes?

I'm sorry.

Did I hear you mention
Consuello Hooper?

Yes, yes.
Mr. Barucci is in town with a burial gown

of his own design
for Consuello.

But he just found
out that her will specified a design

by St. Michelle,
the French couturier.

Mercy, mercy, honey.
I don't want you thinking

I'm just some kind of
moonshucker with a long line.

No, sir, no.

But it's just that
we have shown you absolutely everything.

Well, now,
maybe what you ain't showing is

what you can't sell,
honey.

Meaning?

Meaning that Luigi says
Mr. Barucci is the big time quartermaster.

Now, there's some
super special things that only he can sell.

Well, Luigi is mistaken.

No, he ain't, Miss Sophia.

So you tell Mr. Barucci that
Jimmy Joe Meeker from Houston

is willing to
come to his party.

You see, one of the only joys
on this earth

that money can buy
is knowing that you got the best.

So you sit tall, honey,

and don't you
rope no one-eyed Angus.

Texas boys just don't
give up that easy.

What are you looking for?

Well, I already
told you, honey.

We've got
closed-circuit TV.

Ultrasonic motion detectors.

Contacts on all the doors
and you think

we are such fools
that you can walk in here and steal from us?

Well, I ain't gonna
steal nothing, darling.

Oh, don't darling me.

Hey, what do you say
let's talk, huh?

No inglese.
Oh, yeah.

Ciao.

That Barucci's got
a security system like an East German art gallery.

I could have
told you that.

Masters could, too,
but he didn't.

Well, maybe
he assumed that you knew

how important secrecy
is in high fashion.

Thank you.

I guess Masters' security
would be just as tight, huh?

Hmm. More so.

He depends on impact
and surprise a lot.

The collection models
don't even have a fitting until the day of the show.

You know,
this business you're so attached to,

it's unpredictable hard work.

You deal with
high-strung egos.

What's the real attraction?

It's a power trip.

You're dealing with customers
who have everything

and now they want
the best of everything.

For a woman, that means

how she looks and
what she's wearing.

Hey, where are you going?

I could sleep on the couch
in a man's apartment

when I didn't
care about the man.

But I like you, Jim.

I like you a lot
and I can see why Carol called you.

I'd call you, too,
if I were in trouble.

I'm at the Sand and Surf.
It's two miles up the beach.

Room 23, all right?

Is that the last of
the Consuello Hooper inventory?

Yes, sir.
Hi, Jim.

Hi, Dennis.
Take a look at this.

You know,
I can believe 20, 40 pairs of shoes, but 274...

You don't look so good.

Yeah, I was shopping.
It always wears me out.

Where did you find
the drug paraphernalia?

All over the house.

They had reds, whites, blacks,
you name it.

A real pharmacy.

How do you list this,
Dennis?

Novelties.

Well, I'll leave you
to your own problems.

But I just thought
I'd drop in and tell you I was talking to Dusenberg

and he's closing the
Carol Calcote investigation.

Yeah, well,
tomorrow's Consuello's wake.

If Stevie Hooper
hits town, Bel-Air's going to look like Woodstock.

Did you hear what I said,
Dennis?

Your boy in there

is wrapping a homicide
in tin foil.

I just have
no time for this.

Jim, out!
I've really got no time.

Come on,
let's go, let's go!

Thanks, Dennis.
Yeah, you're welcome.

Hello?
Is anybody in there?

Is anybody in there? Hello?

Yeah, yeah!
Can I use your phone?

What for?
Please! I have to call an ambulance.

Oh, yeah, of course.

Out!

Move it, Rockford.

I'm telling you,
this is some kind of mistake.

Now, wait a minute.
Why are you doing this?

Just protecting
an investment.

Get out of the way!

You hit him.

Hey, Burt, they must
have heard those shots.

I just saw lights
go on over there.

Let's go!

Yeah,
but what about... Forget him, he's gone.

My nurse left a message
for the lieutenant

and the lady said
she'd be right down.

You are very lucky.

Just lucky.

Very lucky would
have been none of this ever happening.

Put a dressing on that.

As soon as she gets
a dressing on, you can leave.

I'll leave these for you.

Souvenir.

Thank you.

You all right, Jim?

Oh, yeah, yeah. I...

I thought it might be worse
when I had them call you.

Well, what happened?
Hey!

Well,

I got faked out.

A couple of guys drove me
up to the mountain.

I got lucky.

Did you get a look at them?

Well, I'd recognize them.

And this is
what you got me off the Hooper case for?

I'm sorry it's just
a flesh wound, Dennis,

but it is my flesh!

They fired these
into my body.

Just a couple inches over,
I'd be into decomposition.

Hey, I'm...

I'm sorry, Jim.
This Hooper case got me all fouled up.

You know,
sometimes I wish I didn't even get promoted.

Here you go.

Oh, thank you.

You wanna know something
that really clogs my engine?

Here we have
Consuello Hooper, the Argentine playgirl,

found dead,
and then on the same night,

we have Carol Calcote
over a balcony.

Those are two
different cases, Jim.

Yeah, but everywhere I go
on the Carol Calcote investigation,

I keep stumbling
over Consuello Hooper.

They're both BPs.

Fashion models
and jet-setters know the same crowd.

And when both of them
die on the same night,

doesn't it make you
wanna scratch your head and wonder just a little?

Well, Dusen...
Oh, well, Dusey, Dusey.

I really like Dusey,
yeah.

I think what I like
most about him is

the professional way he
goes about an investigation.

You know, calling home
to see if dinner's ready

and checking to see
if the plumber has fixed the upstairs bathroom,

worrying that Dorie's
worried that he's worried.

Okay, okay, so he's
a little inexperienced.

You know, Dennis,

Carol was a Masters model.

Now, Consuello was
often wardrobed by Masters.

Now, Consuello isn't
the type just to go into the boutique

and try things on.
I mean, she's going to get first-class treatment.

Are you trying to
say that Carol and Masters

went over and
popped Consuello?

Come on,
you're really stretching that.

I'm not saying that.

Maybe they witnessed it.

Yeah, Masters could
have killed Consuello.

Why?

Well, I don't know.

Maybe she didn't
like his designs and he went crazy.

Hey, you gotta
meet this guy, Dennis.

I don't buy it.
Forget the coincidence and let Dusenberg handle it.

And I gotta get
through to Stevie Hooper.

I was expecting
that call over here.

I just hope that
the switchboard is alert to it.

Dennis,
I'm the only one working the homicide angle

on Carol Calcote's death.

That's why
I picked up these.

Add some dice and boardwalk to
that theory and we sell it to Parker Brothers.

Lieutenant Becker?
What?

You have
an overseas phone call from a Mr. Stevie Hooper.

That's it. Okay.
That's it. All right.

Wooded Slopes Mortuary.
That's right.

Did you handle
the arrangements?

We prepared Consuello.

There must be hundreds
waiting to say goodbye.

Actually, most of them are
hoping to see Stevie Hooper.

Is everything all right?
Oh, I hope so.

We usually follow up,
but in this case,

our head cosmetologist,
Keaton,

he went off
the deep end a little.

He did some strange things,
overdid the makeup.

Not exactly
Raggedy Ann cheeks and smiles, but close.

I think
we caught most of them.

Well, no one's complained.

What would they say?

We have our reputation to
think of, we have an image.

Well, go ahead
and take care of...

Thank you.

Monty,

your gown is magnificent.

Nice to see you again,
Monty.

Are you staying
for my collection?

Collection?

Your displays
are accumulations.

Your gown for Consuello
is appropriate.

You should design
exclusively for the dead.

In my father's day,
we would be in the bois with pistols.

You knew who he was?

Please, please, please.

Not another scene
like the spring showing

at the Plaza Ath�n�e
in Paris.

Listen, Masters darling.

I know the gown
you were designing would have been exquisite.

But there can
be no jealousy between you and Monty.

I mean,
it was in her will.

Pardon, madame.

Among couturier, you
are considered a Schneider.

A Schneider?
Hmm, excuse me a moment, will you?

Thank you so much.

I beg your pardon.

Oi, mate!

Where's Consuello?

Over here.

Does the bird
look all right to take inside?

I'll tell you,
bloody Stevie gets me in these bloody messes.

Oh, yeah.
Stevie's not coming?

No, he sent me.

I'll tell you.
The things I do for that bloke, mate,

fill a book.
Bloody book.

Let's go.

Rockford.

I hardly expected you
to be here.

In addition
to everything else, I have just allowed myself

to become involved in
a shabby little street brawl.

What are you doing here?

I thought you were
watching Barucci's.

Just what I wanted
to talk to you about.

Is there
a chance that Barucci's in trouble with loan sharks?

Loan sharks?
Don't be ridiculous.

Well, I know
they're very active in the garment center,

a lot of high-risk businesses.

You know, they
have very direct ways of protecting investments.

We're talking
about haute couture,

not some sleazy
ready-to-wear manufacturer.

Yeah, well,
there's an expression.

"No matter how you cut it,
it's still the rag business."

How's your cash situation?

I read where you closed
some boutiques.

Have you had any calls
from your money man, Mr. Bancroft, recently?

Pretty strange, huh?

Oh, maybe, maybe not.

What's that?

Dinner. I'll get mine.

Oh, well, that will
be a real energy boost.

I'll just wolf this
right down and go out and stop a freight train.

That, my dear, sir,
is a fashion model's feast.

Go easy on the wheat thins.

That's
gastronomically impossible.

Well, a real fashion model
would have had saltless crackers,

but what the hell,
let's splurge.

Why not?

I think I really
got to Masters today.

So, when did
he send out this cancellation notice?

5:30 by messenger.

That was after
Consuello's wake.

Yeah, I suggested to him
that he might be in a little loan shark trouble, so,

an hour later, he canceled
the showing of his new line.

No notice. Just shutters
the place and gets out of town.

But it doesn't say
anything there about getting out of town.

Well, that probably
comes later.

I keep wondering
about this guy Bancroft.

I'll give Dennis a call.

See if he's gotten
anything on him yet.

Lieutenant Becker, please.

Becker here.
Hello, Dennis, this is Jim.

Have you got anything on
this Bancroft, the banker?

Yeah. I got it right here.
Where did this guy come from?

What do you mean?

Well, this guy's as much
a banker as you're a jet pilot.

He's got a rap sheet
here that trails sparks.

24 arrests, one conviction.

All the witnesses at
his trials develop acute amnesia.

A real state-of-the-art
loan shark,

complete with
thumbscrews and a leather blackjack.

Why don't you try
this one on Dusey?

Tell him my guess
is that Masters is into Bancroft

for the money
to put on the show.

Why?
Well, the why isn't as important as the when.

But I figure that
Bancroft wants his money back.

Oh, there's one other thing.

What?
Well, Masters closed his show,

which means he won't
be getting any revenue

from this year's
new daring collection.

It's beginning to
stink bad, Dennis.

You think you
could take a moment and just glance it over?

That is, if Dusey
hasn't filed it along with the Black Dahlia case.

I'll take a look at it, Jim.

You're a pal.

Now, the problem
I'm having is figuring out

how you're gonna
pay back the money you borrowed from me

unless you open the show.

Mr. Bancroft,

if I open it,
I give the police and a lot of other people

a connection
I don't wanna give them.

You see, I don't care
whether you get stuck with the homicide rap.

You owe me
half a million dollars.

You're gonna open the show.

I can't, Mr. Bancroft.
They'll arrest me.

Looks like we're
gonna have to escort Mr. Masters on stage.

You're gonna be
my guest until tomorrow.

Now, you get on the phone
and uncoil this thing.

I want everybody who
got one of these contacted.

I killed two people,
Mr. Bancroft.

I'll go to prison.
It'll ruin the line.

This is a crazy society.

Used to be a guy
would have got froze.

Now a guy
pops 19 people in New York with a.44,

he sells his life story
to the movies for a mil.

Crazy.

That's the world today.

Who knows? It might push
sales through the roof.

All I know is
I'm getting my money back.

Now, that's my world
and that's all that counts.

I'm aware that
your sensibilities have been buffeted about

with toy soldiers,
punk rock residues, storm troopers.

I won't be showing you
anything like that.

I'm taking us
back to the clean line.

Past that point, if you will,

to the very clean line.

Antiseptically pure.

For that
important luncheon or cocktails for two,

Carolyn wears
a misty beige cashmere,

V-neck sweater dress,
suede, belted at the hip.

Over this,
the simplicity of an unconstructed

intern's jacket, double
breasted with notched lapel.

The brown veiled
hat and tan boots

contribute to
the excitement of the look.

For high disco dash,
Charlene features

the sexy silhouette of
a dusty rose, silk jersey

bandeau halter and pants
with matching gloves.

Over this, a forest
green surgeon's gown,

becomes
a low calf-length, disco coat with knit cuffs.

To tie it all together
for the height of all clothes chic,

a jade green
surgeon's cap worn pinched at the front,

veiled and flowered
with matching operating mask,

which doubles
as a disco bag.

This is awful.
They're in hospital uniforms!

Seductive greens
let you dress the part for dinner party or disco.

Angie wears
a delightfully feminine forest green

technician's cap
with floral trim

to contrast with the strict
shape of her jade green cotton

scrub shirt and
dark green scrub trousers,

a crush of violet
chiffon at the waist, with a shock of gold

and jeweled overbelt
are dramatic accents,

while a print
cotton overdrape

brings the colors
joyfully together.

This is insulting!

Please be patient.

This is a new direction.

It's the business
of haute couture to be daring.

Shape and sensuousness
are the key to Pat's disco look.

For sparkle and shine,
black silk blouse,

black gabardine pants
and veiled '40s hat

with rhinestone and
feather encrusted top knot.

What makes it all
very new and very now

is the full-length
poplin lab coat.

This is awful.
I've got to leave.

Liza, you were
the very first woman I ever saw in gypsy skirts,

the very last, too.

Lieutenant Becker, please.

Also, on the
afternoon slate...

Give me the desk sergeant,
please.

...dress with
disarming pussycat bow.

At the neck, steel blue
and prune-clad wool vest

and matching gloves.

I like it.
But not that much.

...cuffs, overall, freedom
of a three-quarter felted

consultation jacket
for strictly feminine appeal.

Margo! Take over!
I'll be right back.

Lou's candy-striper
is a perfect daytime look for shopping or resort wear,

teaming practicality
and pizzazz.

The innocence
of a softly-shaped pinafore

over unexpected
hot pink blouse.

A casual cover of terry,
wide-shouldered and belted veiled hat...

Masters!

Hey, Masters!

Freeze!

Everybody freeze!
Stay where you are! Don't move!

Quite a little accessory,
Masters.

I'm ruined, totally ruined!

Carol and Consuello are dead.

I'd say you're still
ahead on points, pal.

All because of your incredible
insanity over a fashion line.

Carol was so gorgeous.

Try and forget it, huh?

What do you say
we have dinner?

My mouth is just
watering for some wheat thins.

So, Masters took Carol to
Consuello's house that night

to get her to try
and get Consuello to wear his new collection.

Having someone like
Consuello wear it would make it.

But she laughed at him.

Oh, well, there's
no accounting for ego.

Personally, I can't
see going Asiatic over a bunch of dresses.

A bunch of dresses!
It was his whole life, his career.

When she said no,
he knew he'd be destroyed.

It's just too bad that
Carol was there to witness it.

Jim,

could you wear
another jacket?

What's wrong
with this one?

That shade of brown
doesn't work with anything.

Matter of fact,
I've never seen it

outside of
Southern California.

Go pick one.

I'm sorry
about the way I feel about clothes.

I never could
have a meaningful relationship with any man

who owned
a polyester leisure suit.

I don't have one.
Go ahead and look.

Nehru jacket?

Oh, well, that.
I've had that quite a while.

It still fits.

Maybe it'll come back.

Let's go
with the brown jacket.

Right.

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