Original subtitles

You need help, special help.

I need a gun, brother, so I can burn him before he burns me.

What's the matter, he take your money?

No, he took my gun.

The murderer was a big black man.

What are you gonna do about it?

Put out an APB, what do you think?

Well, that's like declaring open season on him.

Drop it.

He belongs to me.

I'm gonna kill him.

I'm gonna kill him.

I'm gonna kill him.

I'm gonna kill him.

I'm gonna kill him.

I'm gonna kill him.

I'm gonna kill him.

I'm gonna kill him.

I'm gonna kill him.

I'm gonna kill him.

I'm gonna kill him.

When they tore down my house in San Diego to make an empty place for a new high rise,

I felt they were trying to tell me something.

So I decided to stay in Santa Monica.

I like my neighbors.

I like the little bar I was sitting in.

I like the piano player.

I like the life.

So I asked Betsy, the airline stewardess next door, if

she knew any place I could find a house at the beach.

She said next door to us, we're moving too.

So they moved, so I moved.

You know who that is?

No, who is it?

Art Sully.

Art Sully.

One of the all time greats, man.

Harry, baby.

Well, how's it going?

How about him?

I don't teach him to mix his drinks.

Where does he live?

I don't know, but I can ask him questions and find out.

You do that.

In the meantime, let's get him to my place.

Hi, you want some coffee?

This stuff will make your liver smoke.

I could keep the scarves down.

I don't have any scarves.

Hey, man.

What happened?

You blew yourself off the end of the pier.

You fished me out.

That's right.

You expect me to thank you?

No.

Good.

Not my style.

Want some breakfast?

That's a good sound.

Well, I have to go to the store.

I'll be gone about 15 minutes.

Your clothes are on the line.

They should be dry.

Try to get yourself together.

Hey, man, where's my horn?

How deep is the ocean?

It's short in the ocean.

Oh, no.

Grand's worth the plumbing.

Custom-made in Paris.

Man, it's not that deep.

The kids will go diving for it.

Yeah?

Yeah.

Hey, where am I?

Right here.

Oh, my God.

Hey, Clarence.

Hey, how you doing, Harry?

I got $50 on that transmission you fixed for me.

Yeah, thanks.

Say, listen.

There must have been quite a party over at Ziggy's last night.

They say you pulled some old drunk out of the drink.

A special old drunk.

Name's Art Sully.

You ever heard of him?

The Art Sully?

Yeah.

You weren't putting me on.

I throw the nobodies back, Clarence.

You know, I was raised on Peanut Butter, the Baptist Boys Choir,

belt leather, and old King Art Sully.

Man, he was the greatest.

Well, he's at my house right now.

I'll bring him by later.

Will you, Harry?

Yeah, sure.

Well, thanks.

Say, uh, drag that old jalopy of yours over tomorrow.

I'll fix the brake line.

That's the guy that owns this if he wants to make a trade.

All right.

I was going to clean it up, but I couldn't find a broom.

Well, that's okay.

Where is he?

I was hoping he was with you.

No, not with me.

Why, is he gone?

Gone.

Who are you?

I'm Ruthie Daniels.

Ziggy Wilson called me.

Yeah, I think I heard he called you.

You're Ruthie Daniels, the singer?

Yeah.

He took my car.

Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Orwell.

You're sorry?

Operator.

Oh, give me the police.

No, don't do that.

What do you mean, don't do that?

He busted my bottle of scotch.

He took my car.

What do you want me to do?

I want you to listen to me, please.

Okay.

Is Art all right?

Is he all right?

Look, let me pay you for the car.

Why should you?

Well, I just don't want any fuss.

Well, that's all right.

I'll get the car back.

Well, then why don't you just please take this on account?

On account of what?

Well, you're a private detective, aren't you?

Well, I'm not busy being a live count.

I want you to find Art.

What?

Let's just say I'm attached to him.

How come you carry a gun?

I'm a woman on my own, Mr. Orwell.

I've learned to protect myself.

You're so attached to him.

How come you don't know where he is?

Well, any time in the last 12 years,

I knew exactly where he was.

In a state penitentiary.

But he got out two weeks ago.

12 years for what?

Murder.

Second degree.

A man like Art Sully,

how come I didn't read about him?

Well, he was charged under his real name,

Art Daniels.

That's your father?

Yeah.

I'm sorry.

In every town, there's always one spot

that's a mecca for all two.

Players and buffs.

This one was called Henny's Roost.

Mr. Henny?

My name's Harry Orwell.

That's a good name.

Thank you.

I'm a private investigator.

How can I help you, Mr. Orwell?

Well,

I'm looking for Art Sully.

Oh, yeah.

The old man with the horn.

We used to be sidemen together.

Long gone.

I've seen him recently.

Why do you ask me that?

He could be in trouble.

I'd like to help him.

We all need help, Mr. Orley,

now and then.

That's the truth.

Can you help him?

I'd like to try.

I've tried.

Every way I know how.

Maybe I did the wrong thing.

He came by here about a week ago,

and I gave him six C's.

What for?

To get his horn out of hock.

Six hundred dollars for a horn?

It's not an ordinary horn.

I mean, this is one of them horns

like Gabriel blows.

And it's been down to Uncle Wings

for about 13 or 14 years.

That's a lot of interest.

Uncle Wings?

Single-wing Wiley.

Used to be a fine drummer

until he lost his arm in a car crash.

Now he runs a place up in Venice,

and it's a music store

and a pawn shop combined.

He's a banker,

a bondsman,

and he's a real big daddy

to all of the cats down there.

I know where Art's horn is.

I just want to know where he is.

Brother,

I think you want to help him.

Yes, I do.

Ain't nobody can help him.

Not because he's a juicer,

but this guy

just don't pay any attention

to his friends anymore.

I can't do nothing more for him,

and I can't do nothing for you.

If you change your mind,

that's where I am.

Orwell.

Okay, fellas.

Rehearsal.

Same time tomorrow morning.

What have you been talking to him for?

What you been saying?

I told you to stay in the dressing room, man.

What did he want?

Same as all of us, I guess.

To straighten you out, King.

Yeah.

I don't trust that cat.

I don't trust nobody no more.

Could be working for him.

Working for who?

Got this whole town sewed up.

He figures to put me away

real quietly

so you don't have to keep

all them fine promises.

Come on, man.

Make me some sense.

Chuck, look.

You want to put me together again?

You want to straighten

old King Horne out?

Let me have another C-Note, Chuck.

What is it?

For what?

I need a gun, man.

You need help.

Special help.

I need a gun, brother.

So I can burn him

before he burns me.

You take the bus,

you go to Venice.

You get off on Main Street

and there it is.

Single Wing Wiley's Place.

The hock shop with the music.

Excuse me.

You're right with it in a moment.

This kid has got

visiting privileges.

Yeah, that's true.

It's cheap for 25 bucks.

It comes in every day

and practices for about two hours.

Who says young folks today

ain't got no application, huh?

What can I do for you, mister?

I'm looking for Art Sully.

Chuck Henney said you

kept his horn for him.

Yeah, some horn.

I kind of miss having it around.

You know,

I used to shine it up

most every day

just thinking of old times.

You used to play with Art?

Yes, sir.

All the old night spots

when Art was right up there

some 15, 20 years ago.

Amethyst,

Slappy Sam,

Palm Tree.

They're not

around anymore.

Used to be a whole string of them.

The old Hacktell's chain.

Hacktell, Sidney Hacktell?

Silvery said.

Now president of the

Hacktell Kaplan Music Corporation.

Yes, sir.

Him and that smart-talking man of his

has gotten the biggest

pop factory in the state.

It was a short trial

and a long verdict.

So said Singer Wayne.

But he also said Mr. Sully

even then had friends.

For example,

a fellow named Sidney Hacktell

paid for the lawyer.

I didn't make a note of the name.

I already knew it.

12 years ago,

I was still pounding a beat, Orwell.

You remember the case?

Vaguely.

The victim was a minor mobster

by the name of Reisman.

Yeah, Gus Reisman

ran a string of sleazy clubs.

Sleazy girls, too.

Like Sid Hacktell.

What's Silvery Sid

got to do with this?

That's what I'm trying to figure out.

Take care.

He's the power in the land.

Like Reisman would have been?

Nah, nah.

He was never that big.

But in those days,

he was a comer.

A rival to Hacktell, perhaps.

A rival to Hacktell.

Look.

Can we take this trip down memory lane

some other time?

I've got crimes happening right now.

And I have a look at

Hacktell's file.

This may come as a shock

to you, Orwell,

but the facilities of this office,

myself included,

are for official police business only.

Besides,

it doesn't have a file.

No arrests?

If there had been arrests, Orwell,

there would be a file.

Now, if that's all you came in for,

unless there's something else

on the contemporary scene...

My car's been stolen.

Your car's been stolen?

Yep.

You couldn't report that at the desk?

I don't know him.

An oversight on my part.

Forgive me.

I'll arrange an introduction.

In the meantime,

you know the drill, Orwell.

Fill out these forms in triplicate.

Produce driver's license, insurance,

proof of purchase,

logbook, etc.

Ad infinitum.

It says in PIM

not here, Orwell.

I figured if the police found my car,

they'd probably find art for me.

I was taking a beating on bus fares.

I expected it would be rough

getting in to see Mr. Mewsby,

but all it took was a phone call.

And the magic words.

Art's son.

Ah, Mr. Orwell.

Come right in.

Make yourself comfortable.

Here, sit down.

There we are.

Oh, it's my partner, Clint Kaplan.

Hi.

Now, Clint Kaplan,

you were Art's attorney.

You represented him at the trial?

That's right.

Sydney retained me.

Was it his idea to plead guilty,

or was it yours?

It was his only chance, Mr. Orwell.

The only way the court would accept

second degree.

Why didn't you tell the court who he was?

I wanted to.

He wouldn't let me.

You see,

he had a little daughter,

and he didn't want her to grow up

under a stigma.

Well, she hasn't.

She's a big star.

Not too many people know

about that relationship.

When Art first got out on parole,

did he come by to see you?

Several times.

As a matter of fact,

on the last occasion,

he was a little drunk.

Well, he was dry for 12 years.

I think he could stay that way

if he had a job.

On the phone,

you told me he tried to drown himself.

Well, not exactly.

But he was depressed, and...

I, uh...

I really want to help him, Mr. Orwell.

That's why I agreed to see you.

Uh, I want you to find him.

I'll write out a check.

No, no, that's not necessary.

I have a client.

Oh?

Yeah.

Look, anything we can do to help.

I mean, anything.

Yeah, sure.

Thank you, gentlemen.

Right.

Bye.

All right?

Well,

what do you think?

Who's his client, I wonder?

Must be Ruthie.

He knows who she is.

Unless he's fronting for the FBI.

Mm-hmm.

We ought to do something about that, huh?

Either way,

he could lead us to Sully.

Yeah.

Smitty!

Tell him.

I could see Mr. Hacktell was rich,

and I knew he was powerful

because he was so polite to me,

and he didn't even know me.

So I figured he'd like to know me better.

Of course, being powerful, he was busy.

So I didn't expect him to tell me himself.

Shh.

Shh.

Shh.

What makes you think love will end

When you know that my whole life depends

On you

You say you fear I'll change my mind

I won't require you

Never, my love

Never, my love

No, never, my love

Never, my love

All right, Myrna.

Yes, Miss Daniels.

I'll go fix your dinner.

So, how are you, Daddy?

Been sharper.

You sure look wonderful, Ruthie, honey.

Thanks.

It's been such a long time.

You should have let me come visit with you.

Oh, no way, hon.

Jail is no place for a lady.

Besides,

nobody might have seen you

and it would have gone bad.

You'd have gotten to the papers.

Okay.

Well, now what am I gonna do about you?

Do?

Come here.

I didn't come here for you to do anything.

Drop by so I could see my little girl all grown up.

Look, Daddy.

I want you to get yourself together.

Stop doing all these crazy things.

Drinking, jumping off piers and stealing cars.

You're driving me crazy.

Didn't steal no car.

I borrowed it.

Listen to me, honey.

I was in this pad on the beach

and this cat came in one night

and I hit him in the head with a bottle and took off.

Yeah, but you were drinking at the time, right?

You don't believe me, do you?

Hon, that cat was mean.

Well, who was he?

One of the Hacks' dudes.

Don't you understand, honey?

The Hack wants me iced.

Daddy, Sid Hacktell is your friend.

He's about the only friend you got left.

He's been doing everything he can to get you dates.

Did he tell you that?

He wouldn't give me a picker or a pickman's job.

I mean, it's just a run around.

While this knife man keeps dogging after me,

waiting to get his chance.

Daddy, are you forgetting that while you were gone,

Sid Hacktell put me all the way through school, through college.

Even got me started with a group.

I was part of the deal.

But he's made it over again ten times with percentages.

Deal?

Yeah, deal.

It's time you should know.

I was a skid row bum with nine toes in a hole.

There's only way that I could do anything for you.

All right, Daddy.

I'll tell you what we're going to do.

I'm going to take you someplace quiet,

where you can get rest and proper food and treatment.

No way, honey.

No way.

Nobody's ever going to put me away again.

No, Daddy, this time it'll be different.

I'll come and visit you whenever I can.

And when you're well, we can go to the police,

and you can tell them your story.

No police.

You listen to me, Ruthie.

I don't dig the Hacks' arrangements.

So I'm going to play it solo.

I've got it all up here.

Old King Horner's going to be a big hit on Hacktell's label.

He ain't going to shove me around no more.

Goodbye, Ruthie.

But I want you to remember one thing.

Your daddy's real proud of you.

Come in.

Oh, I was going to call you.

Art was just here.

No, wait.

Let him go.

It's hopeless.

Was he drunk?

I guess so.

What happened?

Nothing.

He just said,

He just talked wild.

Ruthie, listen, I...

No, that's it.

I can't do anything for him.

What do I owe you?

You don't owe me anything. You gave me it.

Oh, no.

What's the matter? Did he take your money?

No, he took my gun.

I get in this morning and find a phone message on my desk

informing me that a Mr. Harry Orwell

is interested in talking to me about an elderly black trumpet player.

Yeah, he took my car and I want him back.

By an intriguing coincidence,

I too am interested in the whereabouts of just such a character.

One Arthur Daniels, professional name Art Sully.

That's him.

A convicted murderer who has violated parole.

Why didn't you tell me about him yesterday when you reported the theft?

Well, I thought I could handle it then.

I didn't know he had a gun.

He has a gun?

And he's got my car and I think he's drunk and he's driving my car.

How many ways are there to violate a parole?

Thanks, Orwell.

Hey, listen, is this gonna send him back?

Like a Billie Jean backhand.

Well, maybe he just maybe isn't guilty.

What if I could prove he was patsy?

Orwell, if you prove he was patsy, we give him a certificate.

He lives 12 years beyond his natural span.

Harry.

Harry.

Look, baby.

Look.

Look, it's good as new.

Those kids you sent from the scuba club, they fished it out.

Here, take it.

You find Art and put him back together again, all right?

Why should I?

Why?

Because the whole thing started with Duke Ellington and Sackler.

And Patchmo and W.C. Handy and Art Sully.

They started jamming in speakeasies and cheap nightclubs for drinks and tips.

But somehow they gave the whole thing a dignity

and started a whole new musical culture.

Now it's a million-dollar empire, baby.

Manipulated, computerized, rock, soul, ballad, you name it.

But the basis of anything that's good and true is still the blues.

And I remember.

Here, Harry.

God bless you, Harry.

Yeah.

All right, one more time.

I saved Sully's life, I was responsible for it.

Also, I was a little worried about my own life, too.

Hey, hello.

Hey, Clarence.

That depends.

What do you mean, it depends? Depends on what?

It depends on what you want, Harry.

Oh, yeah, I want a loaner.

Just a minute, Harry.

Clarence.

Clarence!

Harry?

Yeah.

How about the loaner?

That's not what I was looking for, Harry.

Clarence, are we having the same conversation?

You know we sometimes give a loaner to a

customer when he leaves his car here in the shop.

But your car is not here, Harry.

Well, it's not here either, Clarence.

That's why I need a loaner.

Well, where is it?

I don't know where it is.

You're getting careless, Harry.

Somebody stole it.

Clarence, that's not funny.

Petty theft never is.

Clarence, I paid you $50.

I give you all my business.

Now I need a loaner.

I have to go someplace.

Is it important?

Of course it's important.

Have you got 25 cents?

Yeah, I got 25 cents.

Hey, what do I need 25 cents for?

The bus, Harry.

Can you read lips, Clarence?

Betsy!

Betsy!

Betsy!

I wanted to ask you a favor.

Sure, Harry.

Go on inside.

No, no, no.

Some other time.

I want to borrow your car.

Well, sure.

Only it's not here, Harry.

Walter took it into town to have the new tires fitted.

You could take his.

Walter's?

Sure.

Come on.

I don't want to take Walter's.

That's Walter's car?

My rival.

Walter's in love with her.

Go ahead.

The keys are inside.

I'm sure Walter won't mind.

Of course not.

Well, thanks, Betsy.

And say thanks to Walter.

Sure, Harry.

Take care.

Bye.

Bye.

It's time we talked.

It's time you talked.

Where you got Sully?

Hey, why's Hectel so afraid of Sully?

What happened 12 years ago?

What can he do him now?

There's such a thing as statute of limitations.

Hectel?

Why should I know about Hectel?

I want Sully.

Where is he?

Come on.

You're Hectel.

Hectel's man.

You're supposed to put Sully down.

Why?

You just cut your own throat, mister.

It's all beginning to go together.

Manny Schmidt, alias Bridges.

Assault, extortion.

He used to be a bouncer at the old Sapphire Club.

That was one of the Hectel chain.

He was still working there at the time of the Reisman killing.

It was a knife killing.

12 years ago.

Well, I didn't know you collected antiques.

Apart from that car of yours.

All right, all right.

Listen, if you can get the case reopened,

I know the forensic boys would be able to tell us

in which hand the killer held the knife.

Lieutenant, let's go.

Shooting incident.

Hectel residence, Southampton.

And then Dolores went outside

and saw a man, a big black man, running away.

But you didn't see him, Mr. Kaplan?

No, I was at the other end of the house.

Come in, Orwell.

What kept you?

Well, I don't have a siren on my car.

It's Hectel.

Bullet ended at the base of the skull,

came out through the forehead.

The murderer was a big black man, I'm told.

Anybody hear the shot?

No, nobody we've talked to so far.

But the walls are two feet thick.

Come here, I want to show you something.

My car.

Lab team's on the way up.

You can look, but don't touch.

Well, you're not going to buy this, are you?

That's a little tidy.

A little complete.

A whole presentation.

Well, what do you expect me to do, ignore it?

Well, for a start,

the hat and the horn were at my beach house earlier this morning.

The only way they could have gotten here

is with Smitty, the knife artist.

Which brings up the question of modus operandi.

Hectel was not knifed.

He was shot.

The gun art was carrying Schutz peas.

It was a ladies purse special.

You saw the hole in Hectel.

That was made by a heavy caliber weapon.

Naturally, we'll check out the weapon

when we pick up Sully.

Yeah, well, thick walls are no thick walls.

Somebody had to hear the shot.

I can assure you we'll check that out too.

Anything else?

You playing games with me?

Perhaps.

Off the record, Orwell,

this does look like a setup.

Yeah, and Sully's the patsy.

Well, just suppose he called Hectel

and he was invited here.

And somebody would have a golden opportunity

and a perfect alibi.

I'm going to take a flyer with you, Orwell,

and tell you just for once why I'm agreeing with you.

Well, it is leveling time for us both.

I'm interested in your knifer, Schmidt.

Six weeks ago, a man was killed

in the downtown parking lot.

I read about it.

But you didn't read that he was an FBI agent

investigating the Hectel Kaplan Music Corporation.

Six weeks ago, Art Sully was in jail.

Come on, give me a look at the autopsy report.

Give me what you got on Schmidt.

He's left-handed.

What's the FBI have on the corporation?

They made pirate recordings of concerts, jazz festivals,

and they put them out under false labels.

No artist fees, no royalties, no taxes.

They had a good thing going.

Maybe that's it.

Maybe Art knew about it.

When he got out of jail, he started to booze.

They got worried about him.

Maybe he gets drunk.

He tells about the old Reisman case.

The FBI makes a connection,

and they compare the handiwork.

You bet.

It's a left-handed killer.

I'll bet you it's a left-handed killer.

Okay.

Thanks, Orwell.

What are you going to do about Art?

You can beat it now.

Yeah, what are you going to do about Art?

He put out an APB.

What do you think?

Armed and dangerous.

Approach with caution.

Well, that's great.

Well, that's like declaring open season on him.

He's already got a hitman after him.

Now your guys are after him.

In his condition, he's liable to shoot at anyone.

That's right.

But that's procedure.

I have to follow through on procedure.

You know that.

You're not giving him a chance.

He's got a chance, Orwell.

You.

If it's open season, that includes you.

If you want to keep your wild one intact,

I suggest you find a way to get to him first

before the pack closes in

and has him for lunch.

Ruthie.

I'm sorry, Miss Daniels is not in.

You know where she is?

No, I don't.

How long has she been gone?

Oh, maybe about an hour.

She got a telephone call and just let out of here.

Now, this is very important.

Who called her?

Let me think.

Chuck?

Chuck.

That's his name, Chuck.

Chuck Henney.

That's fine.

You told me to.

What was it?

Get lost?

Beat it?

Yeah.

Can you follow me here?

That's right.

Knife wound, right side of chest.

That figures.

Been dead less than an hour.

That's Chuck Henney.

You know who that is?

Chuck Henney.

Do you have any idea who that is?

Happened to be one of the creators of American jazz.

Composer, arranger, performer.

Who was an artist.

Who never sold out to commercialism.

And who I was listening to when I was 12 years old.

Okay!

They have Ruthie Daniels.

That's Art Sully's daughter here.

Daughter, huh?

That's right.

Chuck probably called her.

Like he said, a knife of the soul.

Take the heat off of Art, will you?

I wish I could.

You know he didn't do this.

I'm on your side, Orwell, but I'm strapped.

On paper, Sully's all I've got.

The natural suspect to both killings.

It's a frame!

Don't play along.

You're playing a part.

A part written by an expert on police procedure, Clint Kaepernick.

I know, I know.

Kaepernick was cheating on Hacktell.

Making pirate recordings on his own.

The FBI investigation was bound to bring that out, too.

And he thought Hacktell was going to turn on him.

So when Art called, he said, come over to Hacktell's.

And naturally, when Sully got there, Hacktell was already dead.

And the last act of the play is that you're going right along with it.

You're going to take Art off the street, aren't you?

If one of your guys doesn't shoot him, then

they'll catch him and put him in the penitentiary.

Well, that's the payoff to the plot, isn't it?

And just for insurance,

Smitty, the knife artist, has got Ruthie Daniels.

Got Ruthie dead.

No witnesses.

Just your say-so.

It's not enough, Orwell.

The play goes on.

Well, Lieutenant, you may be strapped by police procedure, but I am not.

And that is what I hoped you'd say.

I did.

But I just went there.

I didn't call, I wasn't going to knock.

And then I remembered how pretty his secretary was,

so I decided to announce myself in the outer office.

Send him right in.

You know what I want, Mr. Cabral.

Do I, Mr. Orwell?

Yes, a trade.

I want the girl you want, Art Sully.

Correct.

So your knife artist can dispose of it.

Good luck. The police will do that for us.

Sully's a derelict.

Half dead already.

You should know that.

Oh, there's a chance we...

we can let him stay in the warm.

Under certain conditions.

We'll see.

If I deliver him, what's in it for me?

Like you say, a trade.

You get your client back, and you get two paydays.

One from her, and one from me.

Cash.

Ten thousand.

Half in advance.

Uh-uh.

All or nothing.

Well, how do I know Ruthie's alive?

Maybe that maniac of yours has already slit her throat.

I'd prefer to avoid that, Mr. Orwell.

Miss Daniels is a million-dollar property.

On the other hand, there are thousands of girls waiting for a break.

Put her on.

Ruthie?

Harry?

You all right?

I guess so, but Chuck...

Ruthie, just cool it.

I'll get you out of this.

What do they want?

They want me to find your old man.

No, don't help them.

They just want him to sign something that says he'll not make any more trouble.

I'll see to it they don't hurt him.

Oh, Harry, it's all my fault.

I turned my back. I deserted him.

That's not true, Ruthie.

You're the one that put me back on the case, remember?

Yeah.

So you just trust me, understand?

Okay, Harry, I trust you.

Now, do you have any idea where Art might be, where I can find him?

No.

Well, think, Ruthie, you're the last one to talk to him.

Well, I told you, he was high as a hawk, really winging it.

And rapping on like some Uncle Tom.

Yeah.

Don't worry, Ruthie, I'll find him.

Hawk and winging uncle.

Ruthie's message had come over crystal clear.

I should have thought of it myself.

The only place Art had left to go.

No, you're doing a number on me.

I'm not doing a number on you.

Chuck Henny's dead. Kaplan's got Ruthie. You want her dead, too?

You're doing a number on me, man. You're working for Kaplan.

All right, hold it right there.

What took you so long?

Take the gun, Orwell.

Now you can stand up, Mr. Sullivan.

I'm not gonna shoot anybody with this. It hasn't even been fired.

Hands behind your head.

I'm still taking him in.

Told you he was a put-on.

A procedure? You want to go by the book this time?

You're gonna have a dead star on your head.

Named Ruthie Daniels.

What do you suggest?

I suggest you give Art and me 12 hours and we'll give you a new ending.

All right.

We'll do it together.

Kaplan.

This is Harry Orwell. I've got him for you.

All right, Mr. Kaplan.

I'll do as he says. Just don't hurt my little girl, is all.

You satisfied?

Where are you, Mr. Orwell?

Never mind where I am. The price has gone up to 20,000.

Deal.

Bring him here midnight.

I want this unfamiliar ground nice and open in

the daylight so you can't drop the three of us.

Bring the cash and bring the girl.

The pier near my place, 6 a.m. You got it?

Very well, 6 a.m.

And no stand-ins, Kaplan. I want you there personally.

Just remember this, Orwell.

I'm in so deep I'd sooner be dead than strike out now.

One wrong move and the girl's had it.

Looks okay.

How do you know the girl won't go to the police?

Well, I've explained it to her.

I'm going to look after her father.

Put him in a nice, quiet clinic.

I may even let her visit him now and then.

So long as I have confidence.

Give her the money.

Let's go.

Freeze!

All right, hold it right there.

Drop it!

He belongs to me.

I didn't think violence was your style, Orwell.

It's not usually.

You know, I can give you a ticket for this.

No.

Polluting coastal waters.

It was a private party for the time being.

Henny's Roost wouldn't open again.

Under new management.

Ruthie Daniels would put up the money.

Ziggy Wilson would operate the club.

And Art Sully?

Art would blow the house down.

I hate to tear myself away, Orwell,

but I have to work tomorrow morning.

Did you speak to Arts for all of us?

Uh-huh.

And?

He's satisfied.

So long as you keep him sober and see that he reports regularly.

But why me?

Because I don't like all this jazz, Orwell.

My taste runs more to, um...

Bach.

Gentlemen.

Gentlemen.

You having a good time, Clarence?

Yeah.

You sure are taking good care of me tonight, Harry.

Why does that bother me?

Huh?

Uh, well, Clarence, come to think of it,

since you volunteered, there is something you can do for me.

I borrowed this car, you see.

Betsy's boyfriend, Walter.

Walter.

And, uh, there's a problem with the taillight.

The taillight is, uh...

The taillight is ruined.

The taillight is ruined, and there is a scratch in the trunk.

I saw you there one fine blue day

You took my heart and threw it away

That is why I ask you, Lord, in heaven above

What is this thing called love?

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