Original subtitles

It's a lousy way to start the morning.

They're pretty rough on her, too.

The law needs all the help we can give it.

And the law's hands are tied.

My hands are free.

It's too bad they're not clean.

The big wheels get the grease, right, friends?

I don't know what kind of cop you were,

but I do know what kind I am.

And my kind of cop gets very angry at cracks like that.

We don't have any brakes.

I don't know what kind of cop I am.

I don't know what kind of cop I am.

I don't know what kind of cop I am.

I don't know what kind of cop I am.

I don't know what kind of cop I am.

I don't know what kind of cop I am.

I don't know what kind of cop I am.

I don't know what kind of cop I am.

I don't know what kind of cop I am.

If the fog hadn't burned off early that morning,

I wouldn't have gone fishing,

and I might never have seen her.

The perfect image of a good life.

Like a travel brochure

or a glossy advertisement for your favorite brand of cigarettes.

Yeah, he's headed north on a horse.

That's right, I said a horse.

I don't think he can get off the beach

until the coastline road.

You got any idea where he's headed?

If you see any units in the area, get them over there.

Is that it?

Yeah, that's it. That's all I saw.

It's a lousy way to start the morning.

They're pretty rough on her, too.

And him.

Did you find the gun on him?

No, but there's a convenient ocean right here.

Is that it?

What'd you find?

I got a brand-new Ferrari parked down at the stables.

Barbara Milan.

Milan?

Yeah, you know her?

Well, I don't know her, but I know her father.

So do you.

Carl Milan?

Yeah, I was afraid of that.

All right, Orwell, show me where he was when you first saw him.

Right over here.

He came from behind this rock.

Well, maybe he climbed down the cliff.

What, down this?

Well, I don't know. Maybe he did.

Orwell, leave it alone. That's police evidence.

Thank you, Mr. Orwell.

Sorry to make you repeat all that stuff over and over again,

but on murder one, we have to be very thorough.

Give me five grand lozenge any day.

Just keep him off my beach.

Lieutenant, you better have some more evidence or we're in trouble.

No fingerprints on the gun.

Saturday night special with a serial number, Firelaw.

Well, that sounds like a professional piece.

Our boy hasn't had more than a traffic charge.

And I can't make any connection between Todd Conway and Barbara Milan.

As far as we can tell, they didn't even know each other.

Great.

No fingerprints.

No connection to the murder weapon or the victim.

No criminal record.

He must be some sort of Houdini.

Well, he just might be innocent.

Sure.

And why did he go riding off like Willie Shoemaker?

Well, maybe what he said was true. He was looking for help.

Orwell, you are a witness, not an advisor to the DA.

Listen, you have a suspect because of me.

If you didn't have that suspect, Carl Milan would be down here

chewing up this building and spitting out lieutenants.

He's right.

Milan's attorney's been on the phone every day.

They'll go wild if we release Conway.

Well, you know what we got.

Can you get a conviction with that?

It's all circumstantial.

Nothing that even smells like a motive.

We've got one choice.

We let him go now, maybe temporarily,

or the jury does it permanently.

Well, hold on to him as long as you decently can.

Maybe something will turn up.

If not, let him go.

Then we can all duck when it hits the fan.

Yeah.

Hey, Betsy, going out for a pass.

Mr. Orwell?

I'm Todd Conway. Remember me?

Yeah, I remember you.

I don't see many murders before breakfast,

so I tend to remember them.

What do you want?

I need some help.

I mean, I need to hire some help, a private detective.

Todd Conway, what kind of a name is that?

Well, I'm an actor.

So was Hakeem Tamiroff.

You don't need a private detective.

You didn't kill anybody,

Lieutenant Trench will take care of it.

If you did kill somebody, I don't want to work for you.

You know anything about cars?

No. Mr. Orwell, will you please listen to me?

I'll make a deal with you.

You drive me to Clarence's, that's my mechanic,

and I'll listen to you along the way.

Could you identify either one of them?

No, I hardly saw them.

They had the shades pulled, so the room was dark.

Did they say anything?

Not that I really heard.

I mean, I went out pretty fast, too.

Well, maybe you dreamed it.

No.

And I didn't dream the car or the guys in it either,

outside my apartment.

When was that?

Last night, and again this morning before I drove here.

I don't suppose you caught the license number of their car?

Well, I couldn't see that from the window,

and by the time I got downstairs, they were gone.

Hey, listen, Todd, don't hire a private detective,

save your money, buy an airplane ticket and get out of town.

Why should I get out of town?

I mean, I haven't done anything.

What kind of place is this, anyway?

It's a place like any other place.

Sometimes not so good, sometimes not kind,

and sometimes not fair.

I can't leave town. My career would suffer.

Your career would suffer?

Sure, I got to be around for casting calls and auditions,

all that kind of stuff.

Do they cast dead actors?

Look, I got almost $500.

Now, I'll pay you that much to find out who's trying to kill me.

That'd buy about four or five days of my time.

Is that enough?

Yeah, that's enough, but you don't need to spend the money.

I can give you what you need to know for free, no charge.

You can?

Carl Milan.

The woman on the beach was his daughter.

Mr. Milan is a rich and successful building contractor now,

but about 20 years ago,

he was the head of the syndicate in San Diego.

He's clean enough now, but he still has some dirty friends,

the type of friends that'd throw acid in your face.

That's why I think you ought to get out of town.

I didn't know people like that really existed.

Yeah, well, they do, and he's one of the worst.

He killed his own brother for half-interest in a cat house.

He used to torture little old ladies for the payoff money,

and now he's a pillar of the community.

Hey, you listening to me?

Mr. Orwell.

What is it?

We don't have any brakes.

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Cut just enough to hold for a while. Any hard breaking like on a downgrade was

sure to make them go. Both foot brakes and hand brakes. Strange trade for someone

to learn. Anything for a buck, though, I guess.

Anything for a buck. You take him back to

my house. You stay there. Don't move. You want some food? There's food. There's beer

in the refrigerator. You want anything else? Forget it.

You lose a big one? No, we won. Defendant was

convicted. How come you don't look happy about it?

Well, I just work here. Don't I? Defendant

was a woman, 24 years old, probably weighed 95

pounds. She wasn't very pretty. For six years

she was married to a man who punched her

out once or twice a week, every week, for six years. And finally she couldn't take it

anymore. She emptied a .38 into him. So today

she was convicted. Punched out one more time.

Big triumph for the Homicide Division. Big triumph for the District Attorney's Office.

Big triumph for the city and the state and the

whole free world. What do you want, Orwell?

Is the Conway kid still a suspect in the Milan

case? He was seen 30 feet from the victim,

10 feet from the weapon within 20 seconds of

the murder. Even the Pope would be a suspect.

How come you released him? Because what we have wouldn't get a conviction. And as you

may remember, there are no replays in this game.

The Constitution frowns on double jeopardy.

Mr. Milan is not going to pay any attention to the legal niceties of double jeopardy.

And what's that supposed to mean? Well, that

means that two of his friends have tried to

kill the kid twice already, and the second time they almost got me as a bonus. Can you

prove that? Can you even come close? I can't

prove it. I know how he operates. I saw him

operate 20 years ago in San Diego. Well, sorry

I can't bust him for something you watched him

do 20 years ago. Does that mean you're not going

to do anything about it? Carmeland has been a law

abiding citizen for all of the 17 years he's

lived in this city. One of his two daughters

was just murdered. I'm not going to harass him because of the hyperactive imagination

of a young actor who could use a little publicity.

The big wheels get the grease, right, Trench?

Orwell, I don't know what kind of cop you were,

but I do know what kind I am. And my kind of cop

gets very angry at cracks like that. And when I'm angry, Orwell, I'm not nice.

Just a moment, please. Mr. Orwell? Yeah, hi. I'm

Mr. Millan's executive secretary. I'm afraid...

Do you have a name? I beg your pardon? Well,

I can't very well just call you Mr. Millan's

executive secretary, can I? Oh, I'm sorry. I'm

Mrs. Dante. Mrs. Dante, I would like to talk to

Mr. Millan... I'm terribly sorry... about the death

of his daughter. Oh, I see. Just a moment, please.

Mr. Orwell? Frank Cabot. How do you do? I saw

you admiring some of our projects. Oh, yeah.

You make all this stuff here? Sometimes. More

often we destroy it. We are in construction,

but mostly in salvage. Anything useful enough to

be recycled and big enough to make it worth our

while. Can we destroy something for you? No,

thanks. I'm Mr. Millan's personal attorney.

This is not a legal matter. This is a family

matter I want to talk to Mr. Millan about.

I'm also his son-in-law. I'm sure I can handle

any family matter without bothering him.

Oh, you're married to Miss Barbara Millan's sister?

Yes. Yeah, this must be quite a shock to you.

Yes, it was. I live... we live up in Pebble

Beach. I fly in every Monday morning. Mrs. Dante

picks me up at the L.A. International Airport.

Well, she just heard about it, and I had to

tell my father-in-law myself. It took it quite

hard. That's why I'd rather not bother him. This

is his first day back at the office. Yeah, sure, I

understand. But I have to talk to him personally.

Mr. Orwell, Mr. Millan wants to know if you're

the Orwell with the San Diego Police Department.

Uh, yeah. Please.

Mr. Orwell, sir.

Mister? Now, aren't you a lieutenant or a captain or chief of police by now?

Yeah, no, I'm not on the force any longer.

That's not the impression you gave Mrs. Dante.

Well, I sometimes give the wrong impression. Who

are you with? Just myself. I'm a private detective.

We don't need one. The police have already found the man who murdered my daughter.

But they don't seem to think so. They released

him. She was a lovely girl, Mr. Orwell.

She played tennis and golf. She rode horses and went sailing.

Well, I like some kind of high society debutante. I just think only

two generations away from hungry peasants. This is a wonderful country, Mr. Orwell.

Mr. Millan, my client is Todd Conway. I'm sure he

didn't kill your daughter. He doesn't even know

somebody's trying to kill him. I think they should be called off. Show him out, Frank.

Mr. Orwell, Mr. Millan, let the law handle it. They can take care of it.

I'm surprised at you, Mr. Orwell. An ex-policeman

talking like that. The law needs all the help we

can give it. The guilty go unpunished. They walk

the streets. Muggers, hoodlums, all kinds of scum.

And the law's hands are tied. My hands are free.

It's too bad they're not clean. Goodbye, Mr. Orwell.

Hey, what are you doing? Oh, I just thought I'd make myself useful.

Yeah, well, I wish you wouldn't play around with my life's work.

Hey, where'd you learn to do work like this? My

dad. He's a boatwright in Seattle, and he's really

good. I could do a lot better, but I couldn't

find your hard Arkansas stone anywhere.

Well, I don't have one of those. Oh, no

wonder. No wonder? Your chisels are so dull.

And I think you got too much set on your saw

here. Listen, if you can do that type of work,

why do you want to be an actor? Sometimes I don't know. Oh, money and fame, I guess.

I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll trade you a

day's work. Thanks. One of yours for one of mine.

Sounds fine to me. All right, get to work. How

about you? I'm gonna go over here and think.

That's the hardest part of my work. Did you

find out anything today? Yeah, nothing good. Mr.

Milland has already reached a verdict. You know,

when I was a cop, I used to complain about the

restraints, the rules to protect the accused. Now

I'm dealing with Milland's type of law and order.

No rules, no restraints, no justice. I told

Lieutenant Trench all I know. I'm not going to

repeat it for every busybody who comes snooping

around here. All I want to know is, did she go

riding with anybody? Maggots. Who? A bunch of

maggots. You all come crawling around the corpse

like a bunch of maggots. Lady, just answer

the question. Did she go riding with anyone?

Mister? Yeah? You want to rent a horse? No, I don't,

I don't like horses. Yeah, well, that figures.

Hello? Well, if it isn't the gumshoe from at

the beach. Yeah, I found it. You didn't find it

because it wasn't lost. You picked it up where

I left it. I thought it was lost. It looked like

it was lost. Oh, I know why you're nosing around.

You're trying to figure out who done in the little

lady on horseback. That's right. Well, look, a

blonde haired man with a cowboy hat. Oh, I don't

miss much on this beach. Not me, not much. I even

saw her the morning she got here. Come by here

just back to the park. Was he with her, this

blonde haired guy? Not that time, not that morning.

No, but they used to come around here all the time,

two or three times a week. Sometimes they'd bring

a blanket with them, you know what I mean? They'd

put that blanket out on the sand and play roll

around. Sometimes they'd even come out at night on

a sailboat. They'd anchor out there and go up to

their favorite spot on the sand, play roll around by the light of the moon.

I guess she ain't gonna play much for a roll around anymore.

Ah, she was a good sailor. She used to rent my boat

all the time. Even when she went out in the fog

alone, I didn't worry about her. Of course, she

usually was with this guy. What did he look like?

Well, he had blonde hair, always wore a yachting cap.

Ah, nothing special about him. She must have thought

he was kind of special though. They used to stay

out till the way past midnight. I don't think they

were out there counting stars. I'm gonna miss

her. She was my best weekday customer. Weekend?

Yeah, yeah. See, she very seldom rented the boat

on weekends, only on weekdays. Well, I guess it's

gonna be a little slower now with her gone. Well,

you know what they say, into every life a little

rain must fall. No, Mr. Orwell, no. I have specific

instructions from Mr. Millan that you cannot see

him today or tomorrow or the day after that. I

suggest you come back in two or three years. Good

day, Mr. Orwell. Ah, Betty. Mr. Orwell. Hi, Betty.

How long you worked here? I mean, have you worked

here a long time? How long is a long time? For you,

about one month. No, I haven't worked here a long time.

It's been, uh, three weeks, two days, four hours and

14 minutes more or less. Yeah, would you do me a favor?

Oh, I'd consider it. Then I'd refuse. Hey, wait a

minute. What if I told you that you were the most

attractive woman I'd ever met? Especially if you

said that. Well, what if I said that you were the

most efficient, the most competent receptionist?

That would make me sick. Yeah, what if I told you

I was going to quote you a Keats' Ode to a Nightingale?

Can you do that? No, I can't do that. I lied about that.

Then I'll consider it. You're a nice girl.

And thanks, Betty. Now, it's to your left. Right.

Uh, how about Marty's? They're having, uh, boiled beef.

Take it easy.

Hey, what?

I want to talk to you. Let him talk, Frank. I don't like elevators.

Your daughter had a lover. A blonde-haired man. Do

you know who he was? No, and I think you invented him.

No, I have witnesses that saw them together. My

God, the girl's dead. Can't you leave her alone?

Todd Conway has dark hair. He was not your daughter's lover. All I want is a chance

to prove he didn't kill her. What do you want from

me? I want you to call it off a stay of execution.

I don't know anything about executions. Come on, Mr. Millan. Time, a little time.

Mr. Orwell, push the button for the first

floor. I'm a real loser. I hijack elevators.

Sometimes even death takes a holiday. You have one day, Mr. Orwell.

24 hours. After that, you better step aside and let justice be done.

24 hours was beginning to feel like 24 minutes.

I had talked to everyone I could think of,

from a tennis pro to a parking attendant, and I'd

come up with nothing more than the blonde-haired

man with a hat, a weekday lover who never left his name anywhere.

To make matters worse, Todd was up bright and early the next morning,

doing his job a lot better than I was doing mine. Hey, did you eat all the cereal?

Uh, yeah, there wasn't too much left. And the eggs?

Uh-huh. And the salami, too. You have enough tea? Yeah, thanks a lot, Harry.

Yeah, it wasn't a very complicated device. Just three sticks of dynamite with electric

blasting caps wired to the switch on the saw.

Thank you. Any amateur could have done it.

Now, if a saw were plugged in, the person who

flipped it on would have been blown to bits and

pieces. I guess you're right, Orwell. Somebody is

trying to kill your client. Oh, not this morning.

What's that supposed to mean? Well, no one's

trying to kill my client this morning, because

no one knows he's here. Except Clarence, my mechanic, and he doesn't want to kill him.

And he certainly wants to keep me alive. My car

keeps him in business. Somebody else put the

dynamite in the saw, which is next to the boat,

which is behind my house. They wanted to kill

me. The lion? Well, he's in the construction

business. He must get dynamite by the carload.

Although he did give me 24 hours. Well, a private

investigator must make all kinds of enemies,

especially one like you. Would you like me to

detail a car to your road? No, no, no, no, no,

I'll be fine. A little more paranoid than usual.

And I want to apologize for that remark I made

the other day I was out of line. That's right, you

were. I got a full coroner's report this morning.

Anything new? Yeah, Barbara Milland was nine weeks pregnant. Here comes our friend.

I'll have Lou get rid of it. No, no, 24 hours

are up. I want to hear what he has to say.

I'd like to talk to you, Mr. Milland. Hello,

Mr. Orwell. This is Mr. Saban, Mr. Carbo,

and my nephew, Jack Milland, friends from the

old days. The good old days. Not all that good.

San Diego before that, New Jersey. I have loyal

friends. And, uh, Jackie is family. A very close

family. Your 24 hours are over. Maybe now you'll, uh, tell us where this Conway, this

client of yours, is keeping himself. I don't know where

the kid is. Maybe for a substantial fee you'll, uh,

help us find him. Um, do you keep dynamite around

here? Why do you ask that? Because last night

somebody put three sticks of dynamite in my

backyard. This morning they went off. I thought

you might know something about that. He's a

cheap hustler. He makes up stories for a living.

Well, Mr. Orwell, tell me where Conway is and you

can name your fee. There'd be a conflict of interest

that I do have something to say to you, but I want to say it in private.

Well, don't worry. I have no secrets from them.

I do. Mr. Orwell will have to trust you, Frank.

Yeah, just one of the family.

Well, Mr. Orwell? That was Milland. Your

daughter was nine weeks pregnant when she died.

How do you know that? The coroner's report.

Frank, you, you told me you found out everything.

I did. You knew? Yes. Oh, why didn't you tell

me? Because, um, because I thought you'd been

through enough. I didn't want to make it any worse

for you. And I'm sorry, Mr. Milland, I had to tell

you everything. Todd Conway was in Seattle nine

weeks ago. It couldn't have been him. You try

anything, won't you, Orwell? You're lying and you

know it. Conway's been in L.A. for six months. I

checked it. Well, where did you check? How did

you check? He wasn't here. He was in Seattle.

That's enough. I will leave my son-in-law. That's

all there is to it. Well, if you don't seem to

care who pays for your daughter's death, why

don't you pick a name out of the phone book?

Mr. Orwell. Men who dig in the dirt sometimes dig their own graves. Be careful.

Frank, get rid of him. All right, get in your little junk car and go away.

And stay away this time. So, Frank, you look

good in hats. You ought to wear them more often.

So, tonight in the upper 40s, there will be

low clouds and fog along the coast tomorrow,

with clear skies by late morning. Here comes Harry.

Who's that? Sue. Sue who? Sue from next door.

Well, Sue from next door, why don't you open this

door and stop shouting at me? You have to come

in through the front door. I do? Hi, Harry. Yeah,

hi. What are you doing to my house? We're keeping

Betsy's promise. What promise? The promise to

paint your house. Don't you remember after you

fixed our roof? Oh, yeah, but I had a picture

of martinis that day. Where is she? Where is

Betsy? Oh, Betsy's in Honolulu. She and Walter

got married yesterday. You're kidding. They got

married? Yeah. Oh, good for them. Hey, uh, you

with a paintbrush, is there going to be a different

color up there? No, we're leaving that for Ralph.

Who's Ralph? Ralph is Walter's big brother.

Well, his big brother? He won't need a ladder.

Won't need a ladder. Well, good for him. Listen,

I want to ask, uh, uh, were either of you at, uh,

L.A., uh, L.A. International at, uh, nine o'clock

on Monday last? I wasn't. I came in at noon on the

Phoenix flight. There were two of them, huh? I'm

Billy. Hello, Billy. I'm Bonnie. I'm Harry. This

is Harry. That's right, you're Sue, right? Right.

Sue, were you there? No, I would have been, but we

were diverted to Burbank. Say that again. I would

have been at L.A.X., but we were diverted to Burbank.

Why were you diverted to Burbank? Because of the fog.

Because of the fog, of course. Because of the fog.

How long was it, uh, socked in? A couple of hours.

Yeah, see, that's the one thing that creep couldn't

know in advance, the weather. Boy, the paint fumes

really gets him fast. A blonde-haired man in a hat

can look like a balding man in a hat. He was a

weekday lover because he had to see his wife on

the weekends. Harry, maybe you better get some

fresh air. Walter and Ralph can paint the ceiling

in their stocking feet. But I, ladies, am a mental giant. Todd! Todd!

Hey, uh, uh, Sue? What? Where's the guy that was

working on the boat here, Todd Conway? Oh, I almost

forgot he left a message for you. I wrote it down.

The 24 hours are up. I don't want to cause you any

more trouble. Thanks for everything. As soon as I

can, I'll send you a hard Arkansas stone. What's a

hard Arkansas stone? I should have stopped to call

French, but I didn't know how much time I had,

and I was afraid of what would happen if I was too late.

I'd gone to Todd's apartment, but all I found

there were the signs of a struggle. It wasn't

like a pair of crows not to kill Todd right when they found him, so I figured they had

orders to take him somewhere, and they'd be met there by the man who gave the orders.

Frank, will you get that?

Speaking. Good. Right. No, Carl wants to see him first. I don't know.

We'll be there in 20 minutes. They got our boy.

Where? They're taking him to the new salvage

project. I gotta go out for a few minutes.

Where are you going? Business. Don't do it, Carl. Let

him go. No, I can't. You can. You're not an animal

or a machine. You can act like a human being. Carl,

listen to me. Frank, get the car out of the garage.

I'll be with you in a minute.

Don't you care? Doesn't it make any difference

to you? No, it doesn't. But he would be free

out on the streets. I don't care. I can't believe

that. It's true. I don't care if he's free or in

prison. I don't care if he's alive or dead, not unless you can trade his life for hers.

Can you do that, Carl? Can you? Then do it. Make

him take back the bullets. Make him give me back

my daughter. If you can do that, then let him go.

Helen, Helen, I can make him pay. I can and I will.

But how? After 17 years, Colonyland is going down

into the gutter again. No, I'm not going anywhere.

I'm just doing this one thing. Why? Why are you

doing it? I have to. I can't let the man who

murdered my daughter walk on the streets like

like any other man. I can't let him laugh and

make love like any other man. I can't let him do

that. Helen, she, she was going to have a baby.

I know. You know? Frank told you? No one told me.

No one had to tell me. She was my child. I know.

He has to be punished, Helen. Please, let the Lothar

kill them. They won't. They had the chance and

they turned him loose. Maybe they had good reason.

They didn't. It was just technicalities. Frank found

out everything about the case. They're waiting

for us. I've got to go, Helen. Helen, don't worry.

After tonight, it'll all be over. Just like the old days, huh, Carl?

Secret meetings at night. All the old excitement.

Does that make you feel young again, Carl? Is

that why you're doing it? You're tired. Go to bed.

Carl? Yeah? Take your top coat. It's damp outside.

Carl, I think you should stay home. Let me take

care of it. No, I have to see his face. I want him

to understand. Here, help me. I'm sure he understands

already. You don't have to explain it to him. No,

I have an obligation. Like a judge pronouncing a sentence, I have to be there.

Carl, it's a mistake. There's no point to it.

Frank, if you want to stay here, I can drive myself.

Where are they? Down below. I hope you have a short memory, Eddie. No memory at all.

I've got bad eyesight and my hearing is none too good. Fine, that's just fine.

Carl, why did you do it? Your life is not worth a tenth of it. Poor commiseria.

Tell me why! Why does she have to die? You're asking the wrong man.

What was that? Who said that? You hear me, Milan?

You're asking the wrong man. It's all well.

Ask your son-in-law. Ask Frank Cabot. Ask Frank

about... Eddie, give me your gun. No gun. Come on.

Milan, ask Frank about the airplane he didn't take

last Monday. The one that never landed in L.A.

Because of the fog. The one that landed in Burbank.

He lied about the plane. He came in on an earlier

plane. He rented a car and drove out to the beach and shot your daughter.

Milan, are you listening? Milan, check the airline.

Check the car rental. I'm telling the truth. He's lying.

You're a crazy liar. Then he went back to the

airport. He said he was going to the beach.

He didn't know about the fog. Listen to me, Milan.

Call him off, Milan. Listen to me. Frank Cabot was Barbara's lover.

He was cheating on his wife with her own sister. He

was the father of the child that Barbara was carrying.

He wasn't guilty, Milan. He wouldn't be trying to kill

me. Eddie, give me a gun. Mr. Milan, you better... Eddie!

Think about it. That's all I ask. Just think about it, Milan.

Frank! Frank! Stop! Stop, Frank! Frank!

Are you sure you don't want to take the van? No,

I couldn't even make it to Santa Barbara in that

little one all the way up to Seattle. You sell it

and add that to your fee. Well, I may keep it and

sell this. I think my sports car phase is coming

to an end. Hey, why did Milan try to have you

killed? I still don't understand that. No, no, he

didn't. Cabot did. Frank Cabot did that on his own.

Milan didn't know about Frank's extracurricular

activity. He only believed what his son-in-law

told him. What'll happen to Mr. Milan? Well,

he'll go to jail for a few years only, probably.

It's enough to make him a broken old man. I

don't know, somehow that just doesn't seem fair.

That it's fair. He's got a lot of sins to pay for, about 30 years of sins.

Now, he's long overdue. You know, I'd really like to

stay and fix your boat. Yeah, you'd do a better job

than I would. Milan, why don't you let me? Well,

because it wouldn't be my boat, that's why.

Well, anyway, thanks for getting me out of a lot of

trouble. Hey, I got the end of this mess to start

with. Hey, Todd? Yeah? Is that your real name,

Todd Conway? Theodore Kleinschmidt. What? Theodore

Kleinschmidt. Oh. Theodore Kleinschmidt.