Original subtitles

(theme music playing)

WALTER WINCHELL: In 1932, Chicago,

like the rest of the country, was hiding its nightlife

at the bottom of basement stairs

and behind locked doors.

On the night of September 30, one such undercover oasis,

the Deadline, was catering to its particular clientele,

the members of the working press.

Do you want to take part of it?

Part of what?

Why don't you ever listen to me when I talk? The bet.

I might even buy you a drink when I win that 80 bucks.

Barney, you're a prince in a world of cutthroats and sharks.

That's what I always say.

A glimmer of sanity in a planet

rushing to put on a straitjacket.

Anybody ever tell you you talk funny?

Almost everybody.

They're right.

And while we're talking about you,

where have you been hiding out lately?

Ridiculous as it may seem, I've been working.

In fact, I've got a rather outsize tiger by the tail.

Somebody's gonna throw the election?

And I thought I was the only one who knew.

No kidding.

What have you got?

I'll let you know at the banquet.

What banquet?

When they hand me the Pulitzer Prize.

Where you going?

Gonna drop by the office and try to get some work done.

At this time of night?

Well, it's too hot to sleep.

Besides, I work much better when you clowns aren't around.

Thanks a heck of a lot.

Well, good night, Carl, and look out for tigers.

(tires screeching)

(gunfire)

Carl!

Carl!

ANNOUNCER:

"The Floyd Gibbons Story."

Starring Robert Stack as Eliot Ness.

Co-starring Stu Erwin

and Joseph Campanella,

with special guest star Dorothy Malone,

and presenting Scott Brady as Floyd Gibbons.

Narrated by Walter Winchell.

(siren wailing)

WINCHELL: Ten minutes after the shooting of reporter

Carleton Edmunds, a phone call from police headquarters

brought Eliot Ness to the scene of the killing.

They can take their time on the way back.

Remembered the plates on the one car.

Maybe the police can trace it.

He was working with you on something, wasn't he?

Yeah, scrap metal.

He talked to me about a story he was planning to do

on the junkyard takeovers.

I told him to stay out of it.

Five minutes later and we both would have been long gone.

Maybe that's why it wasn't five minutes later.

What do you mean?

I mean, it seems strange that in a gunfight,

the only one who's killed is a man

30 feet outside the line of fire.

Eliot, take a look at this.

What's that?

Cotton, Barney.

I picked up four or five of them over there in the street.

How'd you like the play, Barney?

I lost you, Mr. Ness.

You just saw a very well-rehearsed little scene

played for your benefit.

This is batting, Barney, cotton batting.

They use it in blank cartridges.

You mean, those guys were shooting blanks?

All but one.

I guess they wanted Edmunds' death

to look accidental.

That said, he must have been close to something.

Could be connected with the scrap metal business.

He said he had something big.

Probably was.

It's the first time in weeks they've broken out the guns.

Mrs. Edmunds.

I'd like you to know how sorry I am about your husband.

Then go to the funeral.

I think you should know

we think it's a case of suspected homicide.

What's the difference?

He's dead.

To tell the truth, I don't much care.

WINCHELL: That same night, a cross-country flight

landed in Chicago.

Among its passengers was the famous

globetrotting reporter, Floyd Gibbons.

From the time he lost an eye in World War One,

Gibbons barreled his way to every news front,

covering the story,

and many times, making the news himself.

MAN (over P.A.): Telephone call for Mr. Floyd Gibbons.

Report to Reservations.

Let me have a dollar's worth of nickels, will you?

Long distance telephone call for Mr. Floyd Gibbons.

Thank you.

I'm Floyd Gibbons.

Yes, sir. First phone on the right.

Thank you.

Hello.

Yeah.

Oh, look, Max, the only reason I took this Manchurian assignment

in the first place was to get you off my back.

Okay, go ahead, talk.

Yes, I have a six-hour stopover in LA,.

So what?

What? Are you out of your mind?

Certainly not.

Look, if you want a Garbo interview,

get one of your pampered sobs to do it.

Yeah, yeah. I'm very flattered she said she'd talk with me.

Mister, you busy right now?

I'm waiting for my sister. She's coming in from Denver.

Do me a favor, will you?

Grab me one of those late papers.

Here you go.

Now, look, Max, hello?

Listen, I only got about 45 minutes in this town,

and I got a lot of calls to make.

Yes, I know I owe you a lot of favors,

but I deal in hard news, not gossip.

Look, Max, I'm sorry, but it just can't be done.

Something just came up.

Listen, Maxy, I'm gonna do you a great big favor

that's gonna save you money. This.

Mr. Gibbons, I wonder if I could get your autograph for my boy?

Here's something much better, Mister.

But this is a ticket to California.

What's the matter, don't you like California?

Very pretty out there.

They got movie stars and everything.

WINCHELL: Ten minutes after Floyd Gibbons landed

in Chicago, Vince "The Enforcer" Dastille

arrived at a midtown office building

for a meeting of the crime syndicate.

The meeting was held in the offices

of the Decatur import-Export Company, a front for the mob.

What this company imported was money.

What it exported was scrap metal.

You're late, Vince.

What did I miss, the Pledge of Allegiance?

Nobody's laughing, Vince.

Okay, Brecker, get on with it.

Sit down.

Today, the last of the major independent yards

fell into line.

But we still can't meet the demand,

so I asked you gentlemen here.

We can't cut anybody else in.

The dough's coming in too slow right now.

Slow and sure.

Right now, this town looks so clean,

we've got the cops and Ness's boys ready to arrest each other,

just for something to do.

We're not knocking over a bank, Vince.

We're setting up an empire.

Look, we're getting ourselves into a lot of deals

that are out of our line.

Maybe they're just out of your line.

What I know is running booze,

and that's what you know, all of you.

You got the bankrolls to prove it.

You probably don't read the papers, Vince,

but next month, we're gonna elect a new president,

and the first thing he's gonna do is push repeal through.

Then, if you want to run booze,

you can get yourself a trucker's license-- 50 cents an hour.

Meanwhile, you're guessing.

Meanwhile, we'll play it my way.

Until you can show me I guessed wrong.

Yeah, what is it, Monk?

You know that reporter, Carl Edmunds?

Just got word he got knocked off.

All right, thanks, Monk.

You want to tell us about it, Vince?

I been telling you for weeks.

He was onto us, the whole thing.

He was about ready to put us on the front page of The Globe.

The muscle age is over, Vince.

You don't seem quite ready to accept that fact.

What are you building to, Brecker?

It's just that I don't like to see a coat

that doesn't fit right.

And a shoulder holster makes a coat fit pretty bad.

I don't think I like your kind of suit, Brecker.

I wouldn't feel comfortable, you know what I mean?

So, if the lessons are over, I got work to do.

What do you with a dog that can't be housebroken?

GIBBONS: No, it's just plain hot here.

Now, listen, Georgie, the most I can lose is a day or two

and I can resume my regular broadcast right away.

I can go to Berlin direct from Manchuria.

The world is round, remember?

Now, Georgie, Georgie, please.

Don't start that "I treated you like a son" routine.

Come on in, sit down.

Georgie, they wouldn't dare start that war without me,

so go back to sleep.

You know it's still raining in London?

Anything I can do for you, Mr. Gibbons?

Fix you a cup of coffee or something?

No, thanks, but I'm glad you remember me.

But of course you should.

I interviewed you in New York last year.

Oh, yes, I remember we met at a dinner party, I think.

I'm afraid I can't remember the interview.

Well, that was it.

I find you learn a lot more

if the interviews aren't labeled as such.

You stopped in Chicago to apologize, huh?

Apologize?

No offense, Mr. Ness, but I'm sure you never sounded better.

What are you doing in Chicago, Gibbons?

Your paper's been bragging for three weeks

you're gonna cover the war in Manchuria.

What do you think you've got here, a quilting bee?

It's not the kind of war you're used to.

The enemy doesn't wear uniforms.

Mr. Ness, Carleton Edmunds happened to be

a very good friend of mine,

and as good a man as you'll find in my business.

Now, if he was murdered, I think whoever killed him

should be hunted down and stepped on, hard.

Carl deserves that, and I think it's up to you

to do something about it.

I already am.

I could be a lot of help.

You're a good reporter, Gibbons, but there's no story yet.

Why wait?

Everything's being done that can be done.

There's a trace on one of the cars.

The scene of the shooting's being checked,

ballistics, everything.

You mean you're working on it

from the point of view of a dead man.

With a killing, that's usually the way.

Maybe somebody should look at it

from the point of view of the live Carl Edmunds.

You can see a lot from there, and I find it's usually

a pretty good place to start a story.

I've already told you, there's no story.

There's a case of suspected homicide.

Now, when we solve the case of suspected homicide,

then you'll have your story.

You mean, mind my own business.

That's the best way to stay out of trouble.

Maybe I'll see you again sometime.

Thanks for the use of the office.

There's a guy with a lot of nerve.

May just end up on his headstone.

You don't think he listened to you, huh?

No, he'll do just as he pleases.

Maybe he'll have more trouble than he expects,

but staying out of trouble wouldn't please Floyd Gibbons.

It never has.

WINCHELL: The bar at the Deadline speakeasy

was decorated with some of the most famous headlines:

the exploits of Pancho Villa, World War One,

the Russo-Polish war, the sinking of the Laconia.

On his arrival in Chicago, the man who had reported

these front pages, himself a legend in his own time,

was at a table in the Deadline speakeasy.

That's all I remember, Floyd.

I'm sorry.

It happened so fast that the only thing I noticed

were my knees shaking.

You're a newspaper man, Barney.

You report what you see.

Nobody can expect more than that.

But I need a lot more from somebody.

It's a shame about Carl, Barney.

Real rotten shame.

Yeah.

Floyd, not since Paris, right?

You're wrong there, Charlie. It was Biarritz.

But then, you were too drunk to remember.

Well, Europe did that to me.

If there's anything we can do for you

at the Trib, Barney, let me know.

You, too, Floyd.

Thanks, Charlie.

Oh, Charlie.

It wasn't Biarritz, it was Johannesburg.

How do you remember where you are, anyway?

I ask a policeman.

You got a favorite town?

Uh-huh, Chicago.

You're kidding. Why?

'Cause that's where I am now.

Listen, Barney, keep talking about Carl, will you?

Yeah, I guess I've been trying not to think about it.

Well, lately, he'd been drinking a little more than usual.

But you know Carl, it never really got to him.

Yeah. When we were both cubs on the old Telegraph,

we had a seven-hour drinking contest.

I lost, hands down.

But I thought Kitty would knock that out of him.

Oh, there's a real sweetheart.

That's what I mean, Barney.

I want to get inside of Carl.

Everything you can think of.

What he was doing, who did he know.

What about Kitty?

The scrap metal story.

Who did he love, who did he hate?

Who hated him?

Matches Barney Rich's description, all right.

Even to a couple of numbers he remembered off the plate.

Yeah, but it doesn't prove murder.

It's a pretty expensive piece of equipment to throw away.

Send me a print report and any word on the ownership trace?

If you want it.

An outside chance whoever dumped this got back to town in a cab.

Unless the other car followed him out here.

It figures they'd dump that some place, too.

They can't know we haven't got a description.

Let's check the cabbies out, anyway.

You know how many there are in Chicago?

(doorbell buzzes)

(doorbell buzzes)

Floyd!

Hello, Kitty.

Well, how about fixing me a drink?

What are you doing in Chicago?

I'm going to a friend's funeral.

Or haven't you heard?

You're wrong, Floyd.

Am I? About what?

About me.

About Carl and me.

You were always wrong.

I heard you were getting a divorce.

It wasn't my idea.

He changed a lot in that last couple of years.

How about you, Kitty?

Did you change?

You know, it's a shame about you and me.

We could've been good friends.

We should've been.

But you always acted like I was some disease

that Carl had come down with.

No, Kitty, I liked you.

I just always felt that together the two of you wouldn't work.

And it didn't work, did it, Kitty?

I loved him, Floyd.

I loved him as long as I could.

But it's hard to go on loving somebody

who stopped loving back.

I could compete with a typewriter,

maybe even with another woman,

but not with a different bottle every night.

That doesn't leave much.

In fact, it doesn't leave anything.

Yes, I guess you did love him.

Still a skeptic, huh?

About some things.

I don't believe it was an accident, Kitty.

Don't you?

No.

Then go find out who killed him.

Maybe I will.

(sighs)

What do you plan to do now?

Maybe I'll get a job somewhere.

I used to be a pretty fair club singer, remember?

I don't know much more.

Say, Kitty, you know, I haven't eaten a thing since lunch.

Why don't you and I go out and grab a bite to eat, huh?

Now, why would you want to take me out?

Well, you have any other plans?

I... I need about 45 minutes.

-I have to change. -Fine.

Meanwhile, I can get reacquainted

with that little park down the corner.

I appreciate this, Floyd.

You accept, I'll appreciate.

(chuckles)

45 minutes.

"We could've been good friends."”

What's that supposed to mean?

Who is he, anyhow?

Floyd Gibbons.

The news guy?

What's he got to do with you?

He's just an old friend.

Friend?

Please, Vince, don't worry.

He can't stand the sight of me.

Then why'd he ask you out tonight?

I don't really know.

You're not going.

You don't order me around like that.

I'll give you any kind of orders I want!

I don't like a guy like this Gibbons nosing around!

Do you want to have him killed, too?

You're beginning to sound like Brecker,

and one of them is enough.

Did you have Carl killed?

I don't see why you're crying about it.

Oh, you're disgusting.

Who was it tipped me off what he was writing?

That's a long way from murder.

You keep telling yourself that, maybe someday you'll believe it.

Let go of me.

You don't mean that.

Let me go.

Oh, you don't mean that, either.

Go away.

Get ready.

Don't want to keep your friend waiting.

Looks like a dead end.

No prints, no nothing.

Still no sign of the second car.

Yeah, that'd be clean, too.

Oh, here comes your boy.

I dug up some of that stuff you wanted on Mrs. Edmunds.

Anything interesting?

One little item: she used to work for Vince Dastille.

I guess that's how Edmunds got onto the story

in the first place.

Maybe.

Meanwhile, let's hit a couple of the cab companies.

The drivers will be coming off between 11:00 and midnight.

Can't it wait till tomorrow?

At least 25 fares a day-- a cabbie can forget.

Let's hit them while they're fresh.

All right, put it back together.

-Bang! Bang! -Bang! Bang!

Come on, I got you!

You missed me!

No, I didn't! I got you!

You missed me! Bang! Bang!

I got you that time!

I don't want to play anymore.

Hey, mister, like some pop?

Okay.

It's a good flavor.

Here you are. Divvy up the change.

Gee, thanks!

What are you guys fighting about anyway?

He's not playing fair.

Well, what are you playing?

G-man.

I mean, he's a G-man and I'm Bugs Moran.

Yeah, and he's not playing fair.

I'm Bugs Moran and I don't have to play fair.

Tell me something, which would you rather be now:

the G-man or Bugs Moran?

I don't know. I guess it doesn't make any difference.

What's your dad do, son?

He looks for jobs.

Hey, mister, why do you have that thing over your eye?

Oh, so I can see better.

You're kidding.

No, I'm not.

See, everybody else looks out at the world through both eyes,

but I only need one eye for that.

With the other eye, I'm able to look inside

and see what nobody else can see.

I don't get it.

That's all right, son.

It even too me a few years to appreciate it.

Hey, mister, what time is it?

Oh, about 10:30.

Ten-thirty?

I gotta get going, Billy, or I'll really catch it.

Yeah, me, too. So long!

So long, mister.

So long, kids.

(thudding, groaning)

That was just a preview, Gibbons.

If you didn't like it,

there are trains leaving Chicago every hour.

Bang, bang.

ANNOUNCER: And now, back to The Untouchables.

(slow piano melody)

Remember?

Ha-ha, yeah, that's the stuff.

Hey, you know, Robert,

I think it's a downright insult to Europe

that the best crepes suzettes made are right here in Chicago.

Why, thank you, Mr. Gibbons.

You know, if I told you where he kept that stuff

you'd never believe me.

You still haven't told me where you got this.

Oh, there isn't really much to tell.

I just got on the wrong end of a welcoming committee.

What sets my rattled brain to wondering

is how they knew where to welcome me.

Hmm.

Tell me something, Floyd,

did you mean what you said earlier about liking me?

I mean, forgetting the fact that Carl and I didn't get along.

Kitty, I can only remember twice in my life

when I didn't mean what I said.

Once when I was a kid, I had to tell my aunt

that I liked the knickers she gave me for Christmas.

The other time was at Chateau-Thierry

when a marine captain asked me if I was scared.

I told him I wasn't.

Yes, I meant what I said, Kitty.

(chuckles)

How long are you going to be in town, Floyd?

Oh, I don't know. Why, do you have some plans?

I might.

Sounds interesting.

You mean that?

You want me to go through my little speech again?

Oh, it's nice having you here, Floyd.

Well, I wasn't finding it exactly revolting.

Hey, Kitty, how are you?

Oh, Jimmy! Hello.

Sorry about your old man.

Thanks.

Hey, I ran into Vince this afternoon.

He says you might be coming back to the club.

Oh, you know Vince.

Yeah, like I said, I ran into him this afternoon...

Good night, friend.

Huh?

Good night.

Good night, Jimmy.

Oh, yeah. Good night.

Come on, baby!

Was he talking about, uh, Vince Dastille?

Yeah, I-l guess so.

Why?

Oh, nothing. I just remembered

that you used to sing in his nightclub

before you and Carl got married.

Yes, uh, you know he called me this afternoon.

He wants to give me my old job back.

Oh, that was nice of him.

Let's forget about him.

You and I were just beginning to get some place.

Yes, at a full gallop, too.

But right now, I've got to take you home.

I've got an appointment in about 20 minutes.

Oh, where?

I don't know yet.

I have to set it up.

VINCE: Sorry to keep you waiting, Willie,

but we had another stop.

That's all right, Vince.

How'd it go, Willie?

Oh, just like clockwork.

You ditched the car?

Sure.

Good?

Well, you know me.

(chuckling) Yeah.

They fished it out of the lake an hour ago.

Get in.

Yeah, well, I set it up

to look just like an accident.

Honest, Vince, the cops won't figure it.

A guy named Gibbons has it figured already,

and he ain't even a cop.

You blew it, Willie.

Get in.

(gunshot)

Drop me off at the club and dump him.

(whistling)

(knocking)

Come in.

Hello, Barney.

Well, what is this?

The presidential suite?

Ah, a bed's a bed.

Must be 30 a day to use the elevator.

How did you manage it with a series and all?

Oh, the desk clerk was impressed with me.

Thought I was Wally Post.

Very funny.

Not funny at all.

Go downstairs and see how I registered.

Barney, tell me everything you know

about a guy named Vince Dastille.

Well, the independent scrap dealers

are being forced to sell out, and Dastille's the muscle.

Quite a hot shot, but the cops can't get quite enough on him.

Anyhow, he's doing the buying.

He's not a nice fella.

Yeah, who's he selling to?

Nobody seems to know.

The shipments go out of town, but that's all anybody knows.

They tried to trace a load of it once,

and they found it on a dock in Frisco

addressed to a foreign company.

Turned out to be a phony.

You know, I think that's what got Carl really interested.

The foreign angle.

Yeah, that's what Carl always wanted,

a foreign assignment.

Then some cheap punk has to gun him down, and everything dies.

Dreams and all.

He was a big fan of yours.

He used to keep a clipping file on everything

that you were writing from Europe,

all this stuff about this Hitler and everything.

Yeah, he would be interested in all this war talk.

In fact, I think pretty soon, everybody will be.

Interested? The way he went on about it.

You'd have thought he invented it.

Hey, where are you going?

It's almost 1:30.

Barney, tell me, is it considered underworld etiquette

to interview a gangster when you're not wearing your socks?

VINCE: Yeah?

Guy out here says he has an appointment with you.

I got no appointments.

My name is Floyd Gibbons.

What do you want?

Well, I just happened to be in Chicago, and I said to myself,

"Now, what's a good way to spend an evening in Chicago?"

And being a newspaper man, quick as a flash the answer came.

Why not interview a real, live gangster.

Oh, you must think you're some smart apple.

No, no, not at all; you know, a lot of people think that,

but actually, I'm quite humble.

Well, say what you want to say, then get out.

Say, didn't I see your friends here

enjoying one of the city's fine parks earlier this evening?

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

What would you know about scrap metal?

Look, Gibbons...

You're gonna tell me

about the trains leaving town every hour.

Maybe next time, we won't bother telling you anything.

Well, I can't go without a story.

And I was just curious, just how does a Chicago racket

get involved in world trade?

That's enough.

You are smart, Gibbons.

Smart enough to know that you're way out on a limb,

and it's a big drop to the ground.

That's a very graphic metaphor, and it makes the point.

Now I'll make another.

Get out of this town now; There's no story here,

and there won't be unless you want to cover

the funeral of a nosy, one-eyed reporter.

Am I making myself clear?

Very clear.

And I think I'll take your advice.

I said you were smart.

Oh, uh, you don't mind if I drop by

and say good-bye to Kitty first,

do you?

She's a good kid, huh?

Go after him, Solly, and get rid of him.

What about Brecker?

I thought we were supposed to lay off the rough stuff.

Let Brecker play with his blackboard.

You go after Gibbons.

Federal agents.

Oh, gee, fellas, is this gonna take long?

I just got off an 18-hour day.

Yeah, but what's the long one?

You pick up a fare near the wharf around 9:00 tonight?

Yeah.

Yeah, around 9:00.

Could you give us a description?

It's took dark to see much.

Would you be able to identify him if you saw him again?

Maybe.

Where'd you drop him?

I don't know, somewhere in the middle of town.

Don't you keep a log?

Just distances, not addresses.

Look, if that's all you want to know...

It isn't.

Take a trip downtown to police headquarters.

A lousy buck-twenty he gave me; I got to go through all of this.

You're not gonna touch him.

VINCE: Touch who?

Charlie?

You got yourself a prize pupil there, Brecker.

He'll do.

Meanwhile, you leave Gibbons to me.

He's got everything Edmonds had, maybe more.

It's a problem, and I'll take care of it.

Just knocking him off would bring every reporter

and ever fed in the country swarming into town.

Gibbons is a public figure,

not just some nosy hack.

You got a better idea?

My idea is to keep you from bungling it,

like you did with Edmonds.

How did he find out?

What's the difference?

Maybe he guess, maybe Kitty tipped him,

-I don't know. Kitty?

Edmonds' wife, you know; he's been moving in on her.

He's up there now, as a matter of fact.

What are you scared of, Vince?

Gibbons writing his story or stealing your dame?

I'll tell you something, Brecker.

I'm up to here with your smart cracks.

And I'm up to here with cheap, trigger-happy hoodlums

who are too dumb to take orders.

Riding a line, huh, Brecker?

Well, maybe being a little trigger-happy is better

than sitting around till they shake the building down on you.

Maybe it's better than being gutless.

You're a dinosaur, Vince.

Something gets you mad, you lower your head and charge.

You better get back to your blackboard, mister.

After I take care of Gibbons,

we'll see how much protection that fancy suit gives you.

'Cause I'm sick of listening to you,

sick of seeing you sitting in your big chair,

looking at me like you were smelling something bad.

-That's enough, Vince. -Not yet, it isn't.

You got a lot of the boys hypnotized with your big talk

and your big office building.

Well, none of that means a thing.

You're soft, Brecker.

And the organization's getting soft

with you.

Boys?

Well, what would you suggest?

Run the organization the way it's always been run,

from strength.

And that's the one thing you haven't got, Brecker.

And you do?

That's right.

Now get out of here.

From now on, I'm doing things my way.

Sure, Vince, sure.

Actually, your way does have

a certain beautiful simplicity.

Strength, he said.

It's all sort of relative, isn't it?

Yeah, I'm sure.

You think I want to see some innocent guy

get strung up for something?

Willie Drummer, one of Dastille's gorillas.

That ties it up pretty good.

I'll put an APB out on Drummer right away.

That might put Mrs. Edmonds right in the middle.

-It might. -What do we do?

Wait until they pick up Drummer?

Well, I think right now, we pick up Vince Dastille.

Hey, when do I get the keys to the city?

We have to talk, Kitty, right now.

Can't it wait? I was asleep.

No, it can't wait.

It must be serious.

Might need a drink, huh?

No drink, Kitty; sit down.

Have I been a bad girl or something?

Something.

I think I liked you better a few hours ago.

I liked myself better.

What does that mean?

That means that I just walked into a sucker play

that any 16-year-old cub reporter

would have smelled a mile away.

Well, aren't you going to let me in on it?

You are it, Mrs. Edmonds, all of it.

A genuine 14-karat phony.

How does it feel, Kitty, huh?

How does it feel to be a woman who killed her husband?

Because you killed him just as sure

and just as dead as if you pulled the trigger.

Yeah, you killed him all right.

You and Vince Dastille.

-Oh, stop it. -You know something?

My readers will be curious.

Exactly what were your feelings

when they first showed you his body, huh?

What were they? Joy? Relief? Regret? What?

Oh, come on, now.

Now's no time to be shy.

Let's have it; speak up.

I had nothing to do with this.

-It was an accident. -The only accident that

ever happened to Carl Edmonds was falling in love with you,

and that one proved to be fatal.

-Please, Floyd. -You kept right on playing it cozy

with Vince, even after you were married, didn't you?

Didn't you?

Then when Carl started getting close,

too close to Vince's dirty story, you tipped him off.

Vince and his boys took care of the rest.

Isn't that how it happened?

-No, no! -Tell me where I'm wrong then.

Tell me.

Oh, Floyd, leave me alone.

Tell me where I'm wrong.

Vince told me that he was going to buy Carl off, I swear.

Oh, that would have made it better, wouldn't it? Sure.

That way, you'd have had Vince, Carl, and the money.

What a shame it didn't work out.

-It wasn't like that. -No, I know it wasn't.

And I know why, too, 'cause you knew

that Carl would never take a bribe to lay off a story.

I certainly didn't think Vince was going to do anything.

You didn't think at all, did you?

You know, I met Vince Dastille

just once in my life. and if you didn't know

that he was capable of murder, you were just lying to yourself.

I just don't get it.

Why Dastille, anyway?

You had the best.

I don't expect you to understand.

It's...

It's just that I went with Vince for a year

long before I ever met Carl.

It wasn't an easy thing to break off.

(sighs)

Oh, I don't know.

I guess he just...

He just treated the way a woman likes to be treated.

Yeah.

And Carl treated you like a lady.

It was his one big mistake.

Listen, Floyd, I meant it tonight

when I said I was glad you were here.

I always thought that you and I

-could be something pretty wonderful. -Kitty.

Just let me finish, and then you can laugh or walk out

or call the police, or anything you like.

I think I could fall in love with you, Floyd.

Kitty, don't.

Oh, maybe it's already happened, I don't know.

But whatever it was that made me fall for Carl...

(sighs)

Oh, never mind.

I guess I'm just making a fool of myself.

But I'm trying to tell you to stay out of this.

You know, everybody's been telling me that lately.

Ness, Vince, and now you.

Now, what is it, my personality?

Don't make a joke of it; Vince won't.

He's an animal, a wild animal.

Oh, I suppose you had it right.

I must have known he'd have Carl killed.

I guess I just didn't want to believe it.

But I don't want that to happen to you.

-(phone rings) -You better answer it.

Might be your boyfriend.

(exhales)

Hello?

It's for you.

Hello?

Mr. Gibbons, you don't know me,

but my boss has a big story for you.

It's about Vince Dastille.

What about him?

Mr. Brecker-- that's my boss--

he wants you to come to his office.

I'm waiting downstairs for you now.

And suppose I don't accept the invitation.

It ain't no invitation.

Look out the window.

You know, moonlight sure does something for you.

In case you want to get cute,

I got a couple of friends waiting at the back entrance.

You better get down here.

Who's Brecker?

Vince's boss.

He wants me to come and see him.

Oh, that might be a trap.

Yeah, I suppose it is.

But, then, I'm already in it.

You... you could call the police.

Why? Somebody do something bad?

-Floyd... -Don't worry, you warned me.

Just too bad you couldn't have done the same

for a friend of mine.

(engine starts)

Vince Dastille?

Yeah, I know him.

Is that all?

I know him.

What's he done?

He engineered your husband's murder.

You don't seem surprised, Mrs. Edmonds.

Nothing surprises me anymore.

That's too bad.

Oh, save your pity, Mr. Ness.

I've got enough for both of us.

We also believe you were personally involved in it.

Vince tell you that?

Vince didn't tell us anything; Vince is dead.

How?

Shot to death in his office about a half hour ago.

See, Mrs. Edmonds, there are still some surprises.

Who did it?

I don't know.

You don't much care, do you?

What do you want from me?

Just one decent reaction, just some sign

you can experience a human emotion.

I am tired, Mr. Ness.

Is that human enough?

Who did it?

Brecker.

Vince used to work for him.

You might say they didn't get along.

Scrap metal takeover, that was Brecker's operation?

Go ask him.

He's at his office now.

KITTY: It's funny, isn't it?

What is?

Oh, the whole thing.

I mean, everything.

You might say I'd set some kind of a record.

Tell me, Mr. Ness,

have you ever known a girl who lost three men in one night?

One long... terrible night.

The only three men in the world.

(laughs): I mean, really, it's...

it's kind of funny.

It really is.

(laughs)

Carl's one, Dastille's two.

Who's three?

Floyd Gibbons.

He's with Brecker now.

You better come inside, Mrs. Edmonds.

(sobs)

You said you had information.

That's right, I did.

Well, am I supposed to guess, or what?

The information is that

the man you're writing a story about... is dead.

Dastille?

It was very sudden.

Yeah.

I'll bet it was.

But it's still in our best interest

that you don't write that story.

I see.

I'll bet you do.

Now, just how do you know what my story's all about?

I don't. Why don't you tell me?

Maybe I can fill in a few holes for you.

All right. Why not?

You see, once upon a time

there were these gangsters in Chicago,

and one way or another, they managed to get hold

of all the scrap metal in Cook County.

Now, do you know why they did that?

Because halfway around the world,

there were even bigger gangsters in another country,

and these gangsters were making weapons

so they could take over a whole continent.

And if that weren't good enough,

they found another country full of gangsters,

and these gangsters were planning

to make war on their neighbors.

Well, these wicked gangsters in Chicago very cleverly

sold their scrap metal through the local consulates.

And so, children,

the gangsters in Chicago got very, very rich,

and mankind died miserably ever after.

That's a good story, Gibbons.

No holes.

Oh, just one-- the name of the chief of the gangsters.

I think I'll call him... Brecker.

You were on your way to Manchuria.

It's too bad you stopped over.

Is that some kind of a threat?

I don't make threats; I find it a waste of time

in most cases.

It's just that this story of yours

would bring us the wrong kind of publicity.

Mm-hmm, and maybe a few policemen.

What we're doing is legal, Gibbons.

Oh, sure, till the public finds out

and congress passes a law against it.

There's gonna be a war, Brecker,

and you just picked the wrong side.

I don't pick sides, I sell merchandise.

Gibbons, I don't want to kill you,

so I'll make you a proposition.

You forget all about that fairy tale of yours,

catch the next plane to California,

and you take...

$50,000 with you.

Why, that's more than I make in a week.

You mean there's $50,000 in this envelope?

In thousand dollar bills.

I'll wait if you want to count it.

Let's level, Brecker.

What are my chances of making it out of the building

if I turn it down?

Very slim.

You know, my wise old grandpa used to say...

"Take the money and run.”

He was right.

Good night, Mr. Brecker.

And, uh, consider my memory for fairy tales very bad.

Oh, and, uh...

good night to you... gentlemen.

That was pretty easy, Mr. Brecker.

Too easy.

I'll say this for Vince-- he knew his man.

Get him before he hits the street.

We can beat it to the bottom.

(door opening)

(tires squealing)

Ness!

(gunshots)

Hold it!

Solly?

Solly?

Monk!

Solly!

♪♪

(elevator arriving)

Eliot's coming up the stairs.

Brecker's on his way down.

Up here, Brecker!

(gunshots)

Well, Mr. Ness, I told you we'd meet again.

You gonna be in town long, Mr. Gibbons?

No, just long enough to file a story,

-catch a cab to the airport. -Let's go.

Oh, uh, to show my appreciation for your rescue work,

here's a little something for the Police Welfare Fund.

WINCHELL: The Organization's link with foreign munitions

was revealed the next day in a copyrighted news story

under the byline of Carleton Edmonds.

But by the time the papers

hit the streets, Floyd Gibbons was on his way

to Manchuria.

He was to say later that he left Chicago

because he had a hunch

the Cubs would lose the World Series

in four straight, which they did.