Original subtitles

The city at night, teeming, vibrant, alive.

As American as time payments, air pollution, and the highball.

Before the neon lights blink their last,

before the jukeboxes are silenced and the last glass is dried,

10,000 gallons of hard liquor will pass over 1,000 counters.

And a nightly average of $200,000 will exchange hands.

To regulate this staggering gross in terms of the federal, state,

and city taxes involved, to enforce fair trade regulations,

to ensure uniform quality of product,

to protect both the retailer and the consumer alike,

There exists a shield, the liquor license.

Through it, the stigma of prohibition's bootlegger

and his homemade poison has been erased.

And a system of supposedly foolproof regulations have been created.

But like all shields, the liquor license and

the protection it represents ...are subject

to the corrosion of an insidious cancer fermenting

under the surface of every society.

The Corruptors.

Not bad for a weekday night. It's a living.

What can I do for you?

Scotch.

Straight.

Now what?

You've been talking to some of the other tavern

keepers, Turner. So sue me. Stirring up trouble.

Mr. Callahan doesn't like that.

That door you came in, it opens the same way on your way out.

Maybe you forgot.

Mr. Callahan still owns a piece of your liquor license.

That doesn't mean he owns a piece of me.

Now, I run my business my way.

Now, you tell Callahan, that errand boy, loud and clear. Jim!

It's all right.

Ruby, you close up for me, will you?

Jim.

Be careful.

Yeah.

There he is, Mr. Callahan, just like you said.

Edward, a stubborn man is always predictable. Remember that.

I would say that Mr. Turner looks a bit unsteady.

Probably had one for the road.

Perhaps you'd better drive for him.

Only human thing to do.

Move it!

Come on! I always did say a man should never drink and drive. Move over.

Move over!

For the city, it began the day its citizens lost

interest in the function of civic agencies, elected or appointed.

For me, it began with a letter for Mr. Average Voter,

a small businessman with a leg full of Nazi steel and more guts than the law allows.

For him, it began in the first grade,

when he first overmatched himself with a school bully.

It didn't end until the day they buried him.

Miss Ruby Carter?

I need to learn to knock.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.

The manager at your apartment told me I could find you here.

What do you want?

Information. My name's Marino, Paul Marino. I'm a newspaper man.

Information about what?

Here, read this.

Mr. Marino, in your column last week,

you wrote about corruption in the retail liquor business up north.

From where I sit, you only scratch the surface.

Next time you're in town, drop by and make it soon.

I, uh...

I read his obituary the day after this was delivered.

So?

Jim wrote you a letter. What's that got to do with me?

Well, you worked for him, Ruby. I thought you might be able to help.

Your hustle drinks long enough, you know? You get like those three monkeys.

See no, hear no, speak no.

Jim's dead. Forget it.

Forget it.

You mean like his friends?

I spoke to three of them. They didn't even remember Turner's first name.

Or maybe you want me to forget the police report.

They said it was drunk driving.

Sure, Ruby.

I can forget this letter.

I can even send another bouquet of flowers for you to arrange.

Well, I close the book and the chapter on Jim Turner.

I can do that, Ruby.

But can you? Mr. Marino.

Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn, what dangers thou canst make us scorn?

Burns used to be a habit of mine.

Have another.

I might get maudlin.

Mr. Marino, what do you know about liquor licenses?

Well, not much, I'm afraid,

except they're issued by the Alcohol Beverage Commission.

Right.

Only in this town, there's a guy in the middle.

Michael Callahan.

Now, when Jim bought his place, Callahan had a lien and a license.

He backed the former owner or something.

Anyway, for Jim to get this license...

He had to use Callahan's wholesale outlets, equipment,

and pay a percentage off the top.

What about the commission? Doesn't it have controls?

Sure.

When a state or federal law is broken.

But Callahan's too smart for that.

Well, Jim got fed up.

He tried to organize the other tavern owners and fight back.

Ruby, didn't Jim go to the police?

Twice. They said get the evidence, they'd gladly supply the rope.

Well, maybe I can get it for them.

With what, a typewriter? Mr. Marino, you're in

the major leagues. Quit while you're ahead.

I haven't even been up to bat yet, Ruby.

If I need more information, where can I get you?

You can't.

Look, I'm no Joan of Arc, and Jim was no Galahad.

We're little people, and little people can't beat the odds.

I ought to know.

Two-bit chorus lines, diamond dance joints.

You know why?

Because I believed in a fairy tale about a knight in a tin

suit and all that jazz about fighting the good fight.

I was washed up and washed out.

And Jim gave me a job, and he gave me hope that maybe Well,

I gave you this information for his sake. Now, this is the end of the line.

Look, I got a kid.

Thanks to Jimmy, he's in a good school, and he has a good future.

Now, I'm not going to risk that for a whole city full of people who don't

even care about scum like Callahan or a decent guy like Jim Turner.

You want more information?

Go to the library.

I couldn't quarrel with Ruby's position, but I could finish Turner's fight for him.

His death opened a manhole on a stench that

could only have corruption as its source.

To keep the lid off, to let that stench reach John Q. Public,

I needed the cooperation of the agency responsible for liquor licenses.

And specifically its chairman, Mr. Thomas T. Tremaine.

The implications in that letter can't be ignored, Mr. Tremaine.

Nor can the statement Ruby Carter made. Well, let me understand this, Mr. Marino.

You would have me turn this commission inside out on the strength of this letter,

which you admit only implies possible irregularities

and the unsupported statements of this Carter woman.

It isn't as unreasonable as it sounds.

Mr. Moreno, I read your column religiously.

I respect what you have accomplished and the way you've documented your exposés.

However, in this case, it smacks of sensationalism.

There's no sensationalism in the morgue, Mr. Tremaine.

That's where Jim Turner's implications took it.

Well, you yourself admit that the police have closed his case as accidental death.

Perhaps they didn't know that a man named Callahan

had a lien on Turner's liquor license.

Well, that's a matter of public record.

Mr. Callahan, in his capacity as a license broker,

has an interest in several taverns and liquor stores. So do several others.

Including various corporate interests.

It's a good business investment.

And it's perfectly legal.

Is it legal to monopolize the sale of liquor?

To control both the wholesale and the retail outlets

by virtue of these interests in liquor licenses?

Certainly not.

It's not only illegal, it's impossible.

Now, we have 26 alcohol beverage control districts in this city, Mr. Moreno,

all capably staffed and all responsible to this office.

Every transfer of license,

every applicant is thoroughly investigated before

official sanction is granted to operate.

Now, once a new license is issued or the transfer

of ownership on an old and affected,

our electronic computer records this transaction,

and copies of the license are sent to the state capitol,

the district director involved, this office, and the police department.

There's no possibility of a man like Mr.

Callahan or anyone else exercising a monopoly

by virtue of illegally acquired licenses.

One more question, Mr. Tremaine.

What happened to Turner's license?

If Mr. Callahan had a lien on it, no doubt title was transferred back to him.

You can find all the information you need in our files.

I see.

Well, thanks very much. Oh, Mr. Moreno,

I have a staff of hard-working career civil servants.

If you should print anything derogatory about them without

first making absolutely certain of your facts,

I wouldn't hesitate to drag you through every court in the state.

I hope I make myself clear.

I understand.

The commission files recorded 3,386 liquor licenses

in operation within the city limits.

Of these, only 21 new licenses had been issued this year.

Those issuances being restricted by population increases and zoning restrictions.

As Tremaine had predicted, there were no apparent irregularities.

Nor did Callahan's name appear in any of the transactions

made directly with the Alcohol Beverage Commission.

It looked like a blind alley.

Until I ran down a few of the addresses.

Callahan's castle of corruption seemed inviolate until I

questioned the owners of these business establishments.

According to the commission files, they had been issued licenses by the state.

But according to them, Their applications had been denied,

and they had been forced to do business with Callahan.

Let me guess.

Insurance salesman.

Bad guess. Newspaper man.

I'd like to see Miss Callahan. My name's Marino.

Uh-huh.

There's a Mr. Marino to see you. All right.

Curtain time.

Thanks.

Afternoon, Mr. Marino.

I've been expecting you.

I didn't know I was that well known.

Well, you can hardly expect to retain a cloak of anonymity

by inquiring about my affairs so publicly.

Please make yourself comfortable.

This will do fine, thank you.

Do you mind if I ask a few questions?

I not only do not mind, Mr. Marino.

I will endeavor to answer them before you even ask.

I am told that you have evinced some curiosity concerning

my connection with the liquor industry,

particularly in terms of licenses.

Mr. Marino, in my files are the records of all my dealings,

both as a broker and as an interested party.

At the present time, I have an interest in some 90 taverns

and liquor stores by virtue of these transactions.

Additionally, I have interests in certain equipment agencies, jukeboxes,

pinball machines, things of that nature.

Plus stock in a distillery and two wholesale liquor outlets.

Everything is in order, and it's all quite legal,

as the gentleman from the Income Tax Bureau would no doubt verify.

Well, there's no question about it. Your files

are undoubtedly impressive, Mr. Callahan.

But I'm more interested in those records that aren't in the files.

Sarge?

Licenses issued by the state,

but which were somehow detoured through this office

before they reached their present owners.

Mr. Moreno, you surprise me.

Any such transaction would be highly illegal.

Now, I would hardly jeopardize a business of

this magnitude for a few paltry dollars. A few paltry dollars?

A license issued by the state sells for $800. On the business market,

that same license could go for as high as $50,000. For that kind of profit,

men have risked a great deal more than you have here.

I have that Coleman listing ready, Mr. Callahan.

Sorry, I didn't know you had a client.

Mr. Marino is hardly a client, Edward.

Paul Marino, Edward Mars, one of my best salesmen.

Well, as you can see, Mr. Marino, we have a rather pressing matter at hand.

If there are no more questions...

Well, just one more.

Who do you own on the Alcohol Beverage Commission?

Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.

Hamlet, Act 5, Scene 1.

Like the melancholy prince, Mr. Marino,

I cannot help but feel beset upon when accused so foully.

Good day, sir.

Always a pleasure to serve the Fourth Estate.

That is one guy I could do without, Mr. Callahan.

Edward, Marino would make an excellent poker player.

But sometimes, even the best player needs good cards.

Suppose Marino found those cards.

What then?

Simple subtraction.

Either we take an extended vacation, Oh, Mr. Moreno does.

To bring Callahan's liquor license racket into

focus, I needed names, places, and dates.

The kind of information not found in the Hall of Records.

The operation had to be dissected from the inside by a man who was familiar

with the intricacies and the dangers of undercover surgery.

That man was Jack Flood, one of the best private investigators in the country.

When he could keep his mind on his work,

Honey, don't give it a thought. I'll shake this friend of mine,

and I'll pick you up. But on second thought, maybe I'd better take a rain check.

You see, this friend of mine, he's bigger than I am.

You can take your rain check.

Careful, careful airline regulations, you know.

One of these days, Jack, that line of yours just isn't going to be enough. Oh,

when that day comes, I'll be fast carrying. Good to see you again, Paul. I think.

Well, what is it this time? Have you ever run

a bar? No, but I've been in a few. Why?

You're going to buy one. Buy a bar?

The wherewithal.

Property of American News. 5,000 iron men.

Marked, I might add, so I suggest you watch your arithmetic.

That's what I admire most about you, Paul, your trusting nature.

Okay, I'm a saloon keeper.

Where do I start?

The Ace Realty Company. But I thought you said I was going to open a bar.

Owned and operated by a gentleman named Michael Callahan.

His real estate is liquor licenses.

Okay. I do business with Callahan and open a bar.

Then what? Get me statements, records, receipts, anything I can use.

In other words, make Callahan unhappy. That's right.

Only there's one thing you ought to know.

The last tavern keeper who tried to make Callahan

unhappy has a new address, the cemetery.

And remember... I know, I know.

Don't call me, I'll call you. It's the story of my life.

Uh, by the way, while I'm sleeving over a hot bar, what are you gonna be doing?

Well, Callahan has a back door to the Alcohol Beverage Commission.

I'm gonna put a name on that door.

I still think it's ridiculous.

All right, dear. All right. Call my secretary,

and she'll arrange to transfer the money to your account.

Fine. I'll see you tonight.

My daughter.

Seems that growing up naturally isn't enough anymore. Nowadays,

young ladies have to be labeled debutantes and make a formal entrance into society.

Well, Mr. Marino, I was so important, I wouldn't wait.

The names and addresses of two tavern keepers

who were issued licenses by your commission,

but who said they paid Callahan for them.

I knew you'd be interesting.

Well, there must be some mistake.

Mr. Callahan has never even applied for a liquor license from this state. Exactly.

Which means someone in your agency is smarter

than your electronic computing machines.

My people have been with the city for a long time.

Civil employees aren't exactly overpaid, Mr. Germain.

And the sad thing is, once a man in a responsible position takes a bribe,

for any reason, he's lost the very thing he

was trying to gain, freedom to enjoy money.

He's lost all freedom, because he's become a silent partner in a racket.

Why are you telling me this, Mr. Marino, instead of the police?

Because I feel you have the right to clean your own house, Mr. Tremaine.

I appreciate how you feel about your agency.

But with or without your help, I'm going to do all I can to break this story.

It'll be with my help.

You have my word on it.

If there is a corrupt official in my agency, you'll have his hide. I promise you.

I'll settle for his name.

Thanks, sir. No, it's the other way around, Mr. Moreno.

Thank you.

Waiter.

I'll need that telephone again, please.

It's all there, Mr. Callahan, 5,000.

Yes, yes, so it is, so it is.

It's only the accounting instinct in me.

How about it? Do I get a license?

Mr. Flood, surely you must realize that $5,000 is something

less than adequate to enter the retail liquor business.

Mr. Callahan, you control the license for Turner's Inn,

a vacant tavern on 3rd. I checked that.

I also checked on the inventory, the overhead, and the grosses.

I could handle that place, sir.

I could handle it easy.

What about your operating capital?

You've been known to finance tavern keepers before.

I checked that, too. Enterprising, I must say. Very enterprising. Excuse me.

Yes?

Uh-huh.

I see.

That does complicate matters.

Very well. In an hour.

There's nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.

Trouble?

Nothing that positive thinking won't cure.

Mr. Flood, I admire your approach and your methods.

You may have the license and the necessary fund

to establish yourself in the tavern business.

But of course, there are certain considerations.

Oh, naturally, naturally.

In return for the loan, I will expect 10% of your gross. As collateral,

I will retain a controlling interest in the license.

Additionally, you will be expected to buy from my outlets, use my equipment,

and hire the help I recommend. Agreed?

Reluctantly, yes.

That's a pretty stiff bite.

Business, Mr. Flood.

Is business.

I think you'll find once you are established that

our arrangement will be mutually satisfactory.

Miss Corey, will you transfer the title on Mr. Turner's license to Mr.

Flood and see the copies are sent to the ABC

district main office as soon as possible?

You might also prepare the receipt for this money

and draw up papers for a contingency loan.

I'll fill in the amount later.

Right away.

Mr. Callahan, when you make a deal, you don't exactly waste time, do you?

Expediency is one of my mottos, Mr. Flood.

Miss Corrie, make certain you get a complete file on this gentleman.

Commission regulations. Any applicant for a liquor

license must meet with the state's approval. Don't be concerned.

It's just routine.

I've got an important appointment, Miss Corrie.

I may be tied up for the rest of the day. Thank you, Mr. Callahan.

I'll expect your grocers to match your gratitude.

This is business, Romeo. Your full name?

John Flood.

And your social security number?

Now me, I'd be more interested in a phone number.

Don't rush me, Romeo.

Now let's try it again. Social security number. 556-

12-600.

There's no question about it.

If Marino can find discrepancies in the issuance of two new licenses,

he's bound to get to the rest of them.

And before he does that, we've got to stop him.

You suggesting another accident, sir?

Certainly not.

Eliminating Turner is the thing that put us in this position.

You yourself said he had to be silenced, Mr. Tremaine.

There are many effective ways of muzzling a troublemaker, Callahan,

without resorting to violence.

Please forgive me, dear. I know you're busy, but these bills are pressing.

I'll attend to them, dear.

It seems as if our daughter's coming out has

taken on the proportions of a coronation.

Oh, Mr. Smith, my wife, Nora. Pleasure.

Thank you, and please forgive the interruption.

I'll go in peace if you'll promise to take care of those statements tonight.

Have my word for it.

Thank you.

Oh, don't forget the cars. They're picking us

up at 8. Nice to have met you, Mr. Smith.

Sorry.

The prerogative of womankind, Mr. Tremaine.

About Marino, what did you have in mind, sir?

A Carter woman. The woman who first involved Marino.

This is her record.

I think you will find it adequate to use as an inducement

to help you arrange a party for Marino in her apartment.

A party loud enough to make headlines.

If slander be a snake, it is a winged one. It flies as well as it creeps.

Samahan, you've made one mistake.

Don't make another.

Good day, sir.

What'll it be? I don't know. I'm just trying to decide. How about a grasshopper?

He'll take a highball and like it. What a bartender.

Did you find out anything? Shades of prohibition.

Can I talk to a few of the tavern keepers in the neighborhood?

They say play your cards right, ask how high when Callahan says jump,

and you get an occasional shipment of the good stuff.

No taxes.

Well, you document that, and this story will write itself.

No sooner said than done.

And with the right kind of coaxing, she might remember a lot of things,

like where Callahan keeps his receipts, you know, little

things like that. And now, if you'll excuse me...

I have a little work to do. Well, you know where to find me.

Yeah, but don't wait up for me, huh? Hey, Bench, take over here, huh?

Hey, buddy, that'll be six bits.

St. Louis, 1958, two arrests. Sentence suspended

both times. Chicago, 1959, arrested for vagrancy.

Sentence suspended. New York, 1959.

All right, all right.

So you got the root of my grand tour.

So what?

It's pretty rough, honey.

A lot of people might not take too kindly to a history like that.

Especially your new boss.

I understand you have a son in school, Miss Carter. Tell me,

does he know anything about this?

What do you want?

Your cooperation.

You see, Mr. Marino has been causing us some embarrassment.

We believe he would be silenced if you would

invite him here for a party, a private party.

Plus the torn dress, the Mickey, and the photographer?

He'll never buy it.

Oh, I think he will if you tell him you have some information about me.

Mr. Callahan, everything on that paper is true.

But nobody around here knows it, least of all my son.

Now, for the first time in my life, I'm going somewhere in a straight line.

Give me a break. Get somebody else.

I'm afraid that's impossible.

Either you play ball, Or your family tree gets full circulation.

Tonight.

When do I call?

But of course, you'll have to get into something more suitable.

For a man like Mr. Marino, everything has to be perfect.

Miss Carter, one thing more.

Try anything, anything at all. There'll be one more obituary in tomorrow's paper.

Do I make myself clear?

Sorry I'm late, Remy. The desk gave me a message.

That's all right. Make yourself comfortable. Thanks.

Want some coffee?

Oh, that'd be fine.

What was it you wanted to talk to me about?

Callahan.

And Jim.

After I left you, I did a lot of thinking,

and a little looking through Jim's records at the tavern.

What kind of records?

Stock receipts, mostly.

Most of them standard stuff,

but I think I came across something you might be able to use.

An order for 20 unlabeled cases.

No labels, no federal tax.

It had Callaghan's signature on it. I'll go get it.

Bernhard at her best couldn't do any better.

Well done, my dear.

And now, if you please, we will continue with the staging.

Miss Connor?

You are?

I can't do it.

I'll play doormat for you and your kind long enough.

Miss Carter, perhaps you are forgetting.

I haven't forgotten anything.

I know what you can do to me.

What's more important is what I can do to myself.

Edward, it would seem that Miss Carter is mixing up certain values.

It won't do any good.

It was an accident, Mr. Callahan.

Callous, Edward. Very callous.

On the other hand, it may have been most propitious.

Let me have the city desk, please.

Hello.

I have a story for you.

Right?

And this is headline news.

Take this address, 353 Westport, apartment 2A.

Right.

And you'd better bring a photographer.

Got to hand it to you, Mr. Callahan.

Couldn't have worked better if we'd planned it.

Fate, Edward, resolves all difficulties.

Can't just break in here.

It's all right, Miss Corrie.

Callahan! Mr. Tremaine, do you think this is wise?

Wise?

Since when do you consider wisdom important?

I warned you.

Handle Marino carefully.

Only use this Carter woman as a lever.

Mr. Tremaine, the woman refused to cooperate.

She knew enough to cause us serious trouble.

So you killed her to avoid this serious trouble.

You were told, Callahan, one more mistake and you were finished.

Get out of my way.

Mr. Tremaine, now that you've finished your soliloquy,

perhaps you might be interested in what I've got to say. It's all been said,

Callahan. Not quite all of it, I'm afraid.

There are still a few minor details to clear up.

Such as tape recordings of our conversation,

signatures which you carelessly affixed to

certain documents, little things like that.

Tape recordings?

What documents? What are you talking about?

Perhaps you'd care to make yourself comfortable. I asked you a question, Callahan.

As you no doubt recall, Mr. Tremaine, I was one of your district directors.

Salary? $6,800 per annum when you approached me about our present arrangement.

You get to the point.

I always do.

During my years as an investigator, I learned many things,

particularly the value of records, diligently kept and safely stored.

I also learned how to protect myself in the clinches, as the saying goes.

Every license you've issued through me illegally,

every penny you've taken from this organization, every order you've given,

I have inscribed in concrete.

Even your request to silence Mr. Turner. It won't work, Callahan.

I don't scare that easily.

Edwin?

That's right, Callahan. I want Turner stopped.

The sooner the better.

He's got too many tavern keepers listening to him as it is.

How do you propose that we accomplish this, Mr. Tremaine?

I don't care how you do it, just silence him. Possibly some sort of an accident.

Very well, Edward.

That is only the beginning, Mr. Tremaine.

I have photostats, receipts, transfers of titles, bank statements.

Your name is on those records, too.

Of course.

We're in this together.

We are manacled by chains of corruption.

As Mr. Marino would probably put it.

No, Mr. Tremaine, I am not leaving town, nor am I taking orders any longer. Now,

you listen to me, little man. Sit down.

If you think... Sit down!

Little man, Mr. Tremaine.

Errand boy, Mr. Tremaine.

Front man, Mr. Tremaine. Not anymore.

Look at him, Edward.

Chairman of the commission.

Civic leader.

President of the country club.

Got a daughter who's a debutante.

Look closer, Edward, and what do you see?

I see a sack of skin and calcium with nothing inside except hot air.

You're a caricature, Tremaine,

a puppet with cotton for intestines and vocal cords for brains.

You're only gods of yourself, a stupid, miserable vanity and greed.

All I have to do to bring you to your knees is to mention money.

Show it to you, and you'll crawl on your belly and slobber for more.

Not until I've finished.

You're in this to stay, Mr. Chairman.

Not because of the money, but because I own you.

And what I own, I keep.

Now you listen to me, and you listen carefully.

Edward and I were with you last night.

We were discussing a real estate transaction. We were there until after 12.

Is that clear?

No.

No, I won't be an accessory to a murder.

You already are, Mr. Tremaine.

The police were here less than an hour ago.

Either you verify my story or those records

are turned over to the district attorney.

Yes, yes, there is a way out.

Course, confess, tell all, cleanse your soul.

But you won't do that, Tremaine, because that would take integrity and courage,

and also because it would destroy you. All right.

All right, anything you want.

Mr. Chairman, no more transactions until you hear from me, understand?

It's about time. Where have you been?

Shopping, dear, obviously.

I've been waiting for almost an hour.

Thomas, I don't think that tone is necessary.

I'm sorry. Something important has come up.

It's always important, darling, and you always manage.

I can hardly wait for you to see this dress. It's perfect.

Nora.

We have got to leave town tonight.

Leave town?

With Debbie's coming out only four days off?

You must be joking.

Nora, it's no joke. I'm in trouble.

We've got to leave town, and the sooner the better.

Your difficulties can't be as important as Debbie. Nora.

Don't you realize what this coming out ball means?

We're not going anywhere.

There can't be any doubt, Captain. There's enough here to indict Callahan right now.

Look, a receipt signed by Callahan for 500 cases

of scotch without benefit of federal tax labels.

Another receipt for full payment on a liquor license.

A liquor license Callahan could not have owned according to the commission.

All right, all right. I can read, and I can also add.

That evidence doesn't add up to murder, not in my book.

Where'd you get these records, Jack? Do I ask you where you get your stories?

Probably a little breaking and entering involved, too.

No matter how he got them, Captain,

these records prove that Callahan has to be the one responsible for last night.

To discredit you?

Yeah, maybe.

But murder?

Doesn't make sense.

Look, Captain, your lab people proved that Paul had been doped,

and not with alcohol, right?

You've also established that Ruby Carter died between 11 and 11.30,

and that someone called the Globe from her room at 25 minutes to 12, right?

That means that this someone must be the killer since Paul was in Happyland, right?

Well, then all you have to do is... All I have to do...

I realize not being a private investigator probably makes me a little bit slow,

but amazingly enough, we happen to be ahead of you on this one.

Callahan's whereabouts is being checked right now.

Stringer.

Okay.

No, I'll follow through on it myself.

Well, it was a nice try, gentlemen, but you just struck out.

Callahan's got an alibi. It's a good one.

Whatever that alibi is, Captain, it's rigged.

Not a chance.

He was with Tremaine until after 12.

Tremaine?

The chairman himself.

Captain, these receipts are only part of the liquor license record in this town.

To operate, Callahan has to have somebody on the

Alcohol Beverage Commission in his pocket.

You're going too far.

Tremaine's a big man. Is he?

Paul, what time did you leave Tremaine yesterday?

Order left at 3.

I was in Callahan's office at 3.15.

He got a call on a private line that sounded important.

The telephone company can tell you if that call came

from the restaurant where Paul left Tremaine.

It could.

And if it did, it could be coincidence.

None of it establishes a connection between the

chairman of the Alcohol Beverage Commission.

And a man who's up to his ears in illegal liquor operations.

Mrs. Tremaine, what do you mean we're too late?

He's gone.

And our checking account with him.

This is all he left.

20 years, and all I'm left is a note.

Nora, I haven't the nerve to kill myself,

but I have got sense enough to get out while I can.

Since I'll need it more than you will, I'm taking the money in our account.

Tell Debbie to try to understand. I know you won't.

Tom.

Right.

Nothing.

Stringer says even if he does locate Tremaine, it'll be tough.

Extradition laws don't carry much teeth.

Well, it lets Callahan and Mars off the hook.

For murder, yes.

Because even with Callahan's tape recordings,

Stringer still needs Tremaine's testimony to

make a first-degree murder charge stick.

But even if Kellyanne and Mars do beat the rap, they're still the income tax boys,

and they've got enough to throw away the key.

How about the Alcohol and Beverage Commission? Clean shakedown, fore and aft.

And that means me.

Exit Jack Flood, ex-barkeeper, and his licensed operator.

With Tremaine's disappearance and the arrest of Callahan and Mars,

another link in the chain of corruption across the country was broken.

In its wake were the bodies of two people who had had the courage to fight alone,

a family hopelessly broken,

and hundreds of small businessmen who had to learn the hard way.

That honesty can't be peddled across the counter.

But without the constant vigilance of an enlightened and indignant public,

another Callahan, another Tremaine will appear to feed like

fungus on the American pocketbook and on the American soul.