All language subtitles for Target The Corruptors - S01E16 - One for the Road

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.