♪ What a lovely way to die ♪
♪ A lovely way to die ♪
♪ Yeah a lovely way to die ♪
♪ When your baby is too much ♪
♪ She turns you on so strong yeah ♪
♪ You're not sure if you'll last out ♪
♪ To see another da-a-awn ♪
♪ Oh anytime that you're with her ♪
♪ You can't get your breath no no ♪
♪ 'cause she truly believes in ♪
♪ Your love and you to death ♪
♪ Alright ♪
♪ A lovely way to die ♪
♪ Yeah a lovely way to die ♪
♪ When she says how she digs you ♪
♪ And wants to treat you so fine ♪
♪ And she'll make you so happy ♪
♪ Drive you out of your mind ♪
♪ Oh 'cause her aim is to please you ♪
♪ Right on out of your head baby ♪
♪ And the way she can do it ♪
♪ Man it'll knock you dead ♪
♪ A lovely way to die ♪ ♪ A lovely way to die ♪
♪ loving you to death baby ♪
♪ A lovely way to die ♪ ♪ Alright ♪
♪ A lovely way to die ♪
♪ Baby, a lovely way to die ♪
♪ Well alright
♪ A lovely way to die, baby ♪
♪ What a lovely way to die ♪
That's Half Track moving up to number four position
and goes for the lead. Half Track is on the lead.
Solo is now second, and Green Pea is third.
Burning Twig is fourth and Loren's Baby at the end.
Go! Come on!
Go! Go! Go!
Green Pea is now third, Burning Twig is fourth,
and Loren's Baby still trails.
They go down the back stretch.
And it's half track still leading,
with solo now moving up on the inside.
Around the far turn, and now it's Loren's Baby
beginning to make the move on far outside.
Don't stop! Baby, don't stop!
Loren's Baby on the outside
and Solo on the inside.
And Loren's Baby is moving up front.
Loren's Baby is going away!
Tommy, Tommy, you won! Tommy, aren't you excited?
The result is now official.
It's Loren's Baby, out of Loren sweetheart
and Tiger's Milk
the winner of the futurity,
is owned by Mr. and Mrs. Loren Westabrook
of Tuxedo, New York.
Here is the complete order of finish of the futurity.
Number one, Green Pea finished fifth.
Number two, Solo was second.
Number three, Burning Twig was fourth.
Number four, Half Track was five. And number five...
Your way of spotting a winner
is a lot better than mine.
My father was a drinking man.
Every pay day, my mother turned me down
to the paymaster's window to beat him to it.
That's how I learned where the money is.
What's your name?
Tally. Yours?
Eddie. Care to join me?
Not if you're on the way to the bank with that.
I don't trust banks.
I'm gonna hide it under a mattress.
Your attention, please.
Entering the winner's circle, ladies and gentlemen,
Mr. and Mrs. Loren Westabrook.
Tell the lady there's been a sudden death in the family.
Mr. and Mrs. Loren Westabrook
of Tuxedo, New York.
Mrs. Westabrook, would you stand
beside the animal, please?
What now, Eddie? Back to my place again for a nightcap?
The evening's still young.
Tell you what.
- You like prize fights? - Love 'em.
Great. I'll go phone for the tickets.
See you in the lobby.
I beg your pardon, the gentleman asked me
to tell you he had to leave.
A sudden death in the family.
Well, back to the $100 window.
Take it off.
Yes, Mr. Westabrook.
I asked you not to wear my wife's things.
Yes, Mr. Westabrook.
Go put it back.
Oh, and Carol...
While you're up there...
Turn down my bed.
Yes, Mr. Westabrook.
A.M. or P.M.?
Hm.
Harry.
You will come back.
Now that I know the way.
Your name isn't really Harry, is it?
Uh-uh.
I thought so.
You didn't have to lie to me.
That was before I got to know you and trust you.
My name is Charlie.
Charlie Schumacher.
Well... don't, um...
Rush off, Charlie.
Listen, tell you what.
I'll go out and get a shave.
When I get back, we're going out to dinner.
- Mmh. - Hm?
Oh! Want me to order, honey?
- I dig this food real good. - Anything you say, Wendy.
Well, now, let's see.
We'll have, uh, some of that fish
with the whatcha-ma-call-it sprinkled on it.
And, uh, that green pepper dish with that good sauce.
And, some of that mushy white stuff
in those little squares. Walter?
- Sound good to you, Walter? - Steak. Rare. French fries.
I'll be right back.
That's not a bad proposition
but let's not jump into things. Take...
Mr. McMurty of Kansas City.
Wilson of Detroit, Hansen of Las Vegas
and of course, Henderson from little old New York.
Who are you? What do you want?
- You know this joker? - Jim Schuyler. A cop.
That's right, and this is a pinch
right in the middle of your Sukiyaki. On your feet.
Now, listen, Schuyler. You got no call...
On your feet and hold up the wall.
Thanks, Larry.
- Hey, Julie. - Hi.
Understand you got yourself engaged.
What's a girl to do?
There's only one of you and so many of us.
Ah, just as well. I'm no good.
Worthless, unreliable, unprincipled.
- You ought to pray for me. - Mm, I prayed for months.
But I didn't get you.
Look, I tell ya', I want to confess.
Shut up, thief.
Hi, Daley. What's the story?
Not too good. One of them's still in a coma.
So? Is that why Haver called me in?
I've still got three days of vacation
- you know what time... - Sky.
Mr. Layton is in there.
- Who? - Mr. Layton.
You can't bust a man for what he did.
He runs into a meeting like that, four known criminals
from all over the map. What's he supposed to do?
Nobody said anything about busting him.
I said there's got to be an investigation.
Mr. Layton, he's a good cop. The best I've got.
An investigation has got to hurt him.
He doesn't deserve that.
Are you suggesting we simply ignore what happened?
Call a cranial fracture normal police action?
The man's recovering.
Haver, this isn't the first time that Schuyler's file
has come across my desk.
A 112 arrests in the past year
and nearly half needed medical attention.
Now, I don't know what you call that, but the public
calls it brutality.
Yeah?
In a minute. He's outside.
The brutality is going to stop, captain.
If it doesn't, I am going to break him.
Now, bring him in here. I'm running late as it is.
Come in, Sky.
You know Mr. Layton? Detective Jamison Schuyler.
No, but I've heard a lot about you.
Now, what's all this?
I've failed, sir.
I just can't seem to learn the knack
of coddling criminals.
I get impatient when they steal,
push dope, or try to take me to slice city.
- So I'm turning in my shield. - Come on, now.
- Let's talk sense. - Alright, let's talk it.
Every time I make an arrest, I'm a killer if I use a gun
and a sadistic brute if I use my fists.
What am I supposed to hit those bums with, those law books?
You've forgotten what it's like out there.
Sitting behind that desk.
- I haven't forgotten, Sky. - I'm sorry.
You've got a tough job, I don't want to make it tougher.
Give that shield to somebody who wants to die like a hero.
Sky. Tennessee Fredricks called. Left this message.
- Tennessee Fredricks? - So I'm a lousy secretary.
Came in this morning.
Thanks for the lift, Johnny.
Anytime, Sky, I land here
three or four times everyday.
The deaths of four people in Chicago.
Full details on the six o'clock news.
Headlining the local news,
is the sensational development in the Westabrook murder case.
Rena Westabrook, the murdered sportsman's widow
and Jonathan Fleming, internationally known playboy,
have been arrested and charged with the crime.
Fleming and Mrs. Westabrook are being
arraigned today in county court house.
Are you in love with Fleming?
Will you get married before trial?
Mrs. Westabrook has nothing to say at this time.
- What are your plans? - No comment. No comment.
Boy, ain't she somethin'?
Yeah, especially with a thirty-eight.
Mr. Fleming, you're to come with me.
After this, except for in the courtroom
you and Mrs. Westabrook are not to appear together in public.
Look at her.
Would you want to see her in public
when you can see her in private?
You don't understand. Mr. Fredricks' orders.
You're not to see her at all.
What if I see her by accident?
Do you have any comment?
Well, I, I might have a little something to say.
It seems to me a whoopin' lot of imagination's been at work
in the district attorney's office, and that's why
my clients stand accused.
Too much imagination, as the fellow once said,
is soon tortured into reality.
And that's how horse thieves are made.
A fella leans over a fence all day and imagines
the horse in the corral belongs to him.
And sure enough, the first dark night, it does.
Good luck, gypsy! She's a gypsy, you know.
- Please. - What'd you wanna see me about?
Not now, Sky. Let's get to the car.
Right this way, please.
Harris, Mrs. Westabrook will serve the gentlemen tea.
- Hey! - Be with you in a minute, Sky!
Was it awful?
Don't ever get arrested.
Why don't you take a nice, warm bath?
There isn't time.
Doesn't take long.
Choose something for me to change into.
Something sexy.
Dokey.
Uh, now, let me talk to Josie.
Uh, Tennessee, do you mind giving me a little...
Uh, Josie?
I understand your ma has been feeling poorly.
Well, I'm might sorry to hear about that.
Dang, I'm never too busy
to enquire of those in my employ.
Oh, by the way, Josie.
I have to ask you to work a little later for a week or so.
L, I've got to squeeze in some time for this trial.
Will there be anything else, sir?
Well, I appreciate that.
You give my sincerest best wishes to your ma.
Dokey, now switch me over to Larry.
Okay, I've enjoyed the view of the river,
the surroundings are elegant, and the girls are pretty.
Now, why am I here?
I figured you'd get busted, Sky.
Busted? That's not the way it'll read in my memoirs.
Lar? I understand bail's been set for 25,000.
Well, you take care of it. Dokey.
You haven't answered my question.
Sky... with one simple talent,
I've made an international reputation.
And enough man to give a lesser man a power ego.
- Gift of gab. - No.
I recognize the fact, not the word.
Let me tell you the story about the miser
that fell in the river.
Called for help, see?
And a fella on the bank leaned over and yelled,
"Give me your hand. Give me your hand!"
Now, for reasons best known to himself,
the durned fool miser wouldn't take it.
Along came another fella, one who recognized the fact.
He extended his hand to the miser and said,
"Here. Take this. Take this."
- The miser took it. - I was not busted.
Well, have it your way.
- Here, take this. - Oh, come on, Tennessee.
What am I doing here?
There's gonna be a long trial, Sky.
Dirty and sensational.
- How about working for me? - Doing what?
Well, among other things, I want you to stay here
and look after her.
Keep the reporters and cranks
from climbing over the walls and pestering her.
You're asking me to play nanny to a pistol-packin' mama?
You're a little out of line there, Sky.
Come off it, it's a stale story.
Young wife, young lover, older husband,
and then one night, bang! Was that a shot?
D.A. decides to prosecute. Lady and lover retain you.
Lady and lover get away with murder.
Meantime, while the wheels of justice
grind on, she relaxes here.
Well... if you've got to sweat out a homicide charge
this is the spot for it.
Nice place to visit. Wouldn't like to live here.
Oh, forgive me, please, forgive me.
I'm so terribly sorry to keep you waiting.
You must be perishing for your tea.
Well, it, it is way past that time.
At once.
Please. You were saying something
about a press conference, Mr. Fredricks.
Well, yeah, just a few of the newspaper fellas
that I can trust.
Clear up some of the facts that have been distorted.
You say you met your husband in London, was it?
Mm-hm. I was appearing there in a musical comedy.
He was 50, and I was 22.
I married him because he was very rich.
Well, I'm sure, also because he was good to you
and you thought you could make him happy.
Oh, say, that's very good.
I'll remember that. It's what you call a sympathy...
Grabber. Sympathy-grabber.
Exactly. Every little bit helps.
We don't want to hang, do we?
I understand what you're trying to accomplish, Mr. Fredricks.
Image. Is it not so?
Uh, the image we wish to build is based on the truth.
That I'm honest, courageous, modest...
- And of course, innocent. - Of course.
I'll choose my wardrobe accordingly.
For all public appearances, I mean.
Uh, something expensive, that wrinkles.
Hey, you know another grabber?
Tears. Oh, I don't mean floods. Restraint.
Right, Tennessee?
Isn't it tiresome, Mr. Schuyler?
Isn't what?
The president of the United States
says I'm innocent.
- Huh? - His cabinet.
The congress. The governors of all 50 states
say I'm innocent until proved guilty.
But unfortunately, there are among us,
the low, the ignorant,
who pre-judge.
For them, we must build an image.
Oh, yes, Feeney. You must excuse me.
I find that a bath
and an hour's nap in the afternoon
relieve the tensions.
So nice to have met you, Mr. Schuyler.
She's fruity.
That wasn't the real lady, Sky.
- Real enough for me. - There's no explaining her.
You're gonna have to stick around to find out.
The president says she's innocent.
There's a, I made a list of a few things...
- Don't bother. - I'm sorry...
- I'm not staying! - Wait for me.
Mrs. Westabrook?
Yes?
Now, you could've set him down with less effort.
My way was more fun.
Well, a little fun's never out of place
when somebody's facing imminent disaster.
Can you guess why bail was set at such a low figure?
I thought it was high.
It was low because the district attorney didn't fight.
Didn't fight to keep you in custody.
Didn't fight for higher bail.
See, the way it works is,
the stronger and more damning the evidence
the higher the bond.
You got a bargain.
He presented just enough evidence
to have you held over for trial.
Can you guess why he did that?
No.
He's saving the rest of it for the trail.
For the big, dramatic moment
when it'll win his case and make him a hero.
He's holding back the zinger.
What is the zinger, Mrs. Westabrook?
Call me Rena.
- The zinger? - The zinger.
What does the district attorney know that you and Fleming know
that I don't? Now, what have you kept from me?
Honey, your bath is ready.
Did I tell you he'd stay away for weeks at a time?
And you know why?
He hoped I would be gone when he got back.
Or else, he'd bring his women here.
The maid, Carol, whom you saw downstairs?
She never left.
Why do you still keep her?
It's not her fault my husband was a chaser.
Besides, she asked me if she could stay
until the reading of the will.
Are you trying to put me off my question?
I won't allow it. I insist on an answer.
But it doesn't have to be right this minute.
Mr. Fredricks.
I'm glad you're my attorney.
I have great faith in you.
I don't believe the story myself,
but they claim the empress Josephine
got a letter one day which said,
"Dear Jo... All things considered,
I did not do good at Waterloo."
Signed Napoleon.
Fine. Don't lose your sense of humor.
I figure the worse you'll get is life imprisonment.
Mrs. Westabrook said I should show you to your room.
Oh?
When did she do that?
Just now, she phoned down to the kitchen.
We'll all do everything we can to make you comfortable.
Yeah, but, how's the food?
Would you like to follow me, please?
Yes, indeed.
By the way, Sky, you'd best check her alibi.
We don't want to get caught with egg on the jowls now, do we?
Yes, boss.
Good morning.
Mrs. Westabrook, I understand that on the night of the murder,
Fleming arrived here at about 7:30.
Yes. We had tickets for the theatre.
We took the helicopter into Manhattan.
What time did the performance end?
I'm not certain. A little after 11.
11:14.
You took a taxi, the driver's record shows
that he drove you to the heliport.
Your pilot says you and Mr. Fleming
landed on the lake around 11:30.
Then what?
We stopped at Franciscoe's bar.
That's where we saw Sean Magruder.
Hm.
Um.
Gruder. Gruder.
Oh, yes. Sean Magruder, tree surgeon.
I told Mrs. Westabrook's lawyer all I know.
I saw Mrs. Westabrook and Mr. Fleming
at Franciscoe's about 11:40.
I told the lawyer that.
I know what you're thinking.
You're thinking, why didn't anybody else see them,
why didn't they go into Franciscoe's?
The place was crowded.
They decided to pass it up.
I was in the parking lot when they left.
Whenever you're ready, I'll say that in court.
Hi.
We don't open until five.
Perfect. I never drink before five.
I could try out a few names on you like, say, uh...
Magruder. A merry woodchopper.
Oh, yeah, Sean. He drinks.
One-two-three style?
Four-five-six. Goes pretty good.
How good was he going last Wednesday? You remember?
- Wednesday? - Day of the double-header.
Oh, yeah. Sean came in.
Seven-eight-nine.
What does the name, uh...
Jonathan Fleming do for you?
Swinger. Rich style.
- A wine buyer. - Why here?
A mile down the road, he can get fiddle music
and a napkin with his champagne.
I can't answer that. Maybe he goes there, too.
He doesn't.
Magruder. Fleming. Westabrook.
That parley pay off?
Don't bother. I can't give you your money's worth.
I'm not giving you much.
All I know is what I read in the papers.
Take it anyway. Nice guy style.
Mr. Fleming, please.
Uh, when will he be in?
- Hi, Mr. Fleming. - Hey.
- Ah, that isn't necessary. - For past favors.
I'll get the chain.
Hold it up, pal.
Sorry. But you can't see Mrs. Westabrook.
Cop?
Ex-con.
Uh-uh.
Long term in reformatory, then.
Would you like your prize in merchandise or credit?
Doesn't rate a prize. It was easy.
For a cop.
You're among nice people now. Let me through.
I have important business to discuss with Mrs. Westabrook.
Try smoke signals.
That's as close as you're gonna get to her.
Now, keep that chain up...
Now look, you, nobody said I gotta take orders from you.
Just step aside, see, and let Mr. Fleming...
You mustn't push.
Hey!
Hey, gypsy!
On!
Hey!
I want to talk to you.
What did you want to talk about?
On the day of the murder, you and your husband
went to the races and you drove home along this road.
Mmh.
Did anything happen?
No.
- Anything. - Hm-hm.
It was Loren's scarf, really.
And you just, uh...
Uh-huh.
Why?
Did you see or talk to anybody?
No. Nobody.
Oh, that's where we ran into the ditch.
That's funny.
The gate works electrically, but there's no bell.
Maybe if we telephone first?
What do you know about this Finchley?
Not much. He's an englishman, a recluse.
They say he's a little... You know.
A pair. A man and a woman. Right.
May I help you? I'm Gordon, the housekeeper.
I'd like to see Mr. Finchley, please.
Oh, I'm afraid that's impossible.
It's important. We'll only keep him a minute.
Oh, you don't understand.
Mr. Finchley never sees anyone.
He hasn't received a visitor for months.
That's strange.
How about last Wednesday? Late in the afternoon?
But he did, I tell you.
Loren said he saw Mr. Finchley.
He came to use the telephone. Loren Westabrook.
I'm from the police. Try that on Mr. Finchley.
I'll see the gentlemen.
Mrs. Gordon is correct on all counts but one.
I insist on seeing all the lovely
young ladies who come to my door.
Mr. Finchley, do you remember Loren Westabrook being here?
Oh, yes, indeed. Vividly.
I was sunning on the terrace.
And dozing, I'm afraid.
When he suddenly appeared behind me.
It was rather startling, you know.
He asked if he might use the telephone.
Some misfortune with his motorcar, I believe.
He made only the one call?
Oh, yes, I'm certain.
I showed him to my study.
That's why you didn't see him, Mrs. Gordon.
I couldn't help overhearing.
He made only the one call.
Mrs. Gordon. Mayn't I have the young lady to tea?
It's time for your rest, sir, you know the doctor's orders.
Oh, dear.
Some other time, perhaps.
You're very sweet.
Thank you.
- Okay? - All clear, come on out.
Okay, $20 pool on how many women
will be on the jury.
- Ain't you in, Sky? - I'm not a gambling man.
- Five. - Too bad, honey, too bad.
- Two. - You got a real chance, honey.
Ain't that right, Sky?
Never argue at the dinner table, Biddy.
The one who isn't hungry always gets the best of the argument.
Ain't he something though?
Get Sky another chop from the warmer. A nice, thick one.
- Thank you. - Delighted.
- She ain't a gypsy, you know. - She ain't?
Westabrook's bluenose friends started that one
to give her a bad time.
She's not a bad sort, for a foreigner.
She oughtn't have done it, though.
- She did it, didn't she? - I heard her threaten him.
"I'll kill you," she says.
He laughs. "Ho ho ho. You ain't got the guts," he says.
"Don't kid yourself," she answers.
You told the police, of course?
Oh, Sky.
I can't get mixed up in no murder scandal.
I got too many business interests to protect.
Six. Ha!
Fat chance I got.
That squirrel shooting lawyer of hers would never allow
six women on a jury.
Not in a thousand years.
- More wine, Sky? - Mmh, thank you.
Mmh. That's a big one.
Cheers.
I woke one dawn from having dreamt of it.
I rushed to my sketchpad saying, "It's Rena."
"This one is Rena."
The fabric is made of thinly beaten metal
and aluminum derivative.
Very light, very chic, very you.
Accessories, a triple layer sharkskin
and positively dangerous in concept.
I can't tell you what excitement it's caused in the shop.
And everyone says when they look at it,
"That's Rena Westabrook.
And now, the Jewel of my collection.
I shall say nothing but that the fabric is of simple chiffon.
Daley, I don't like it.
Not the color, nor the line,
nor anything about it.
Hah, take it away, dear. It's horrible.
Sergeant Cole?
Jim Schuyler at the Westabrook place.
I got another one for you.
This nut tried to make it up to the lady's bedroom.
I don't know if he's a newsman, a photographer
or a sex-maniac, but you'll find him in the nasturtium bed.
Uh, bring medicine.
Maybe he wasn't such a nut at that.
Why didn't you stop him when he was downstairs?
You know, police methods are sometimes difficult
for the amateur to understand.
A lovely room.
I think I'd better have a look around.
There's nobody here.
Better if I check.
Mmh.
Well, it all looks okay.
Nothing like being sure.
You know, I've been meaning to talk to you.
I've gone a long time without a day off.
Girlfriend?
Well, nothing serious.
Take a day.
I need a day and a night.
Very funny.
Jamison.
It's a nice name. Strong.
It's interesting how people get names.
Why Jamison?
I can see your mother and father admiring you.
And your father says,
"Let's call him Jim."
But your mother says "No, we'll call him Jamison."
Because Jamison is a very special kind of Jim.
They gave you a good start, your mother and father.
How come you turned out to be such a rat?
- Hm, yeah? - Sky?
- Yeah? - Sky?
Guess what happened to Sean Magruder. Just guess.
He disappeared during the night.
I woke up and made the coffee, thinking he was asleep
in the other room.
He'd been drinking some, that makes him restless.
He didn't want to wake me.
Sean's considerate that way.
You called Franciscoe's?
He wasn't there.
Do you have a record of the people he's been working for?
He keeps a list in the truck.
Why don't you give him a call?
It'll give you something to do.
Maybe I ought to call the police.
No need to do that yet.
Don't worry, he'll turn up.
It's not the first time a man's been out of bed.
Mister?
I am holding, Josie.
I... do you hear?
She don't hear for beans.
I am holding, Josie.
What if Magruder doesn't turn up?
I don't know. He'd be a twitchy witness at best.
Depends on what you have to tell me about his alibi.
- You check it out? - From all angles.
If Fleming and the girl went directly from the helicopter
to the house, they could've made it in time.
And if they stopped here?
Well, if they were here at 11:40
as Magruder says, it'd be impossible.
Then I'm gonna need Magruder, twitchy or otherwise.
Hope he turns up. I'd hate to see you lose your first case.
Sky boy, living on hope is like living on wind.
It's a good way to get full, but a poor way to get fat.
I am holding, Josie.
I am.
The big local news is the murder trial
of Rena Westabrook and Jonathan Fleming,
which gets underway just a few hours from now,
with the star defense witness still missing.
A late report from the authorities
indicates that the blood found on Sean Magruder's truck
was not his, but that of a workman
who was injured yesterday.
And so, with the possibility of foul play eliminated,
the big question still remains, "Where is Sean Magruder,
the only man who can help Rena Westabrook?"
It's only a few minutes past midnight, and already,
people are gathering to spend the night here
on the courthouse steps.
Let's talk with a few of them.
What is your name, sir?
Ah... Bigger. Alonzo K. Bigger.
Mr. Bigger, why're you here?
Well, there's only so many seats in a courtroom
and I've got to get mine the hard way.
Thank you, sir.
Why is Mr. Bigger there, really?
He wants to see you get away with murder.
Do you think I'll get away with it, Jamison?
Nothing's impossible.
Why did you try to make love to me?
I think it's got something to do with mama
delivering a boy child.
What are you gonna do now that Magruder's run out on you, huh?
The best witness
my money could buy, is that what you're thinking?
You said it. I didn't.
Sean drinks, but he's honest.
How does a man like that get to be a liar? A perjurer?
The same way you get to be a patsy.
You keep bad company.
Do you want to see me get away with murder, Jamison?
You, the relentless policeman
who gives no quarter to the criminal?
Do you?
Interesting.
Few days ago, you'd have said "no" without hesitation.
Hm? You make rotten coffee.
Why'd you come down here?
I think it's got something to do with mama
delivering a girl child.
You're a mighty fine looking bunch of citizens,
ladies and gentlemen.
Alternates, of course. Mighty fine.
And I consider myself privileged
to address you at this time.
Now, what can I tell you?
I... I could tell you that the person or persons
responsible for the murder of Loren Westabrook
are not in this courtroom.
No, actually, I withdraw that.
They could be in this courtroom, I can't be dead certain of that.
But of one thing I am certain.
They are not at this here table.
Ladies and gentlemen, hear me, and hear me well.
The charge is murder.
Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder.
Any of you make a note of the number of times
I spoke the word murder?
Hm?
Five times.
Any of you make note of the number of times
it was used by the distinguished member of the prosecution,
during a four-hour and seventeen-minute
interpretation of the facts?
Five times.
But he used another word 47 times.
Now, what can this word be, which in the thinking
of the prosecution, rates such
pre-eminence, and repetition?
The word, dear friends,
is lover.
Lover. Lover. Lover, lover, lover, lover, lover.
Ladies and gentlemen,
against which charge am I to defend my clients?
Murder? Or adultery?
I... I'm caught in a dilemma.
I feel like a woman in a high wind.
I don't know whether to hold on to my umbrella, or my skirts.
My friends...
Let me tell you the story about...
About the fella that was crossing the footbridge,
and he was balancing a crate of eggs on his head.
- Yeah? - Jamison.
Bring the car.
- It's past ten. - Bring the car.
You can't go out. You'll be recognized.
Where are we going?
- I want another drink. - Sure.
The accused had a swinging evening on the town
and showed up for the second day of her trial with a hangover.
You're too much, you know that?
What should I be doing? Praying?
Taking a sleeping pill to forget my problems?
You hated the guy. He hated you.
He made your life miserable.
Why didn't you pack up and leave?
- Why stay? - The money.
Ah, the pursuit of happiness. At least you're honest.
Honesty is a quality you're supposed to admire.
Especially in a woman.
Jamison, what do you plan to do
while I'm serving life in prison?
I've had some offers.
Business machine company wants me
to take over its security program.
There's a chance of a partnership
in a fleet of taxi cabs.
I might even start my own detective agency.
Do you think you could sympathize
with your clients' problems?
Nothing's impossible.
You're a mystery to me, Jamison.
The world's full of mysteries.
For instance, do you know where a butterfly sleeps, hm?
You know what you are, Jamison? A centaur.
You mean half horse?
Half one thing, half another. Half swinger, half square.
Have you ever been in love or married?
I've tried both.
And now you're finished with both, is that it?
Let's, uh, make do with what's left.
Jamison, if you were to fall in love with me,
would you tell me so?
No chance.
Hey, look at this. Gypsy smiles under pressure.
Oh, gypsy, ain't my little gypsy.
Why did you kill him? Why?
Now they're gonna put you away.
You're so beautiful and there's so little beauty in this world.
I wonder if it ever crossed the mind of anyone,
anyone at all, that I'm innocent?
Oh, you mean, besides the, uh, president, and the governors,
and all those other guys?
I want to cry, Jamison.
Take me out where I can cry.
This, I got to see.
You're really a terrible man, you know that?
You've got some admirable qualities yourself.
Goodnight, Jamison. Thank you for everything.
I meant to ask, are your quarters comfortable?
Oh, yes. Fine.
Goodnight, Jamison.
Remember Alonzo k. Bigger?
I thought about him in the courtroom this morning.
I had an irresistible urge to turn and see
if he was enjoying himself.
Was the long wait during the night worth it?
I'd say yes. The D.A. put on quite a show.
He did, didn't he?
Well... goodnight, then.
Do you think we might miss some of the crowd
if we left a little early in the morning?
- I doubt it. - You're probably right.
Can't you take a hint?
Goodnight.
Damn gypsy.
Dump it. Yeah, I said dump it.
I've had that stock more than three years.
Four hundred shares at twenty-two, and the best
it ever did was four and a half percent.
Yeah, that's what I want.
I got a ten-unit motel outside Jersey city.
Brings in seven and a half, eight percent.
And it's a better capital gains deal.
Go ahead, honey.
Uh, the prosecution's opening address
which took four hours and seventeen minutes...
Good morning, Feeney.
Good morning, Harris.
What am I going to do while you're doing time?
Well, there's the business machine deal...
Oh, no. I don't see you in big business.
It's not you.
And taxi cabs, they're okay when it rains.
So I think you should open your own detective agency.
I'll be your first client.
Find out who killed my husband.
You can begin right now, today.
Jim...
I didn't kill him.
Sky
you're running water into a leaky barrel.
Now you, yourself check Fleming out.
A few arrests, no convictions,
a tough kid who straightened himself out.
I tell you, Rena had nothing to do with the murder.
Fleming had Westabrook killed on his own.
Well, fry me for fish.
Oh, come on, Tennessee. Listen to me.
Don't you see how simple it is?
He gets Westabrook out of the way,
he marries the girl, burns up his social security card.
But the alibi?
It strings them together
and you can't separate them.
It's that alibi that makes them Romeo and Juliet,
Eloise and Abelard, Samson and Delilah,
Mutt and Jeff.
- Well, don't it? - Alright.
- Don't it? - Alright.
- Don't it? - Alright!
What's gotten into you, Sky?
I just don't understand you today.
What do you mean what's gotten into me?
I knock myself out doing my job and all you can say is
"fry me for fish" and "don't it?"
And "Eloise and Abelard" and all that.
Sky-boy, faith is for church.
In court I've got to have facts.
Cold, hard facts.
Say, see that couple in the corner?
A buck says she's gonna slug him and walk out mad.
What odds you want?
Is there a time limit?
Makes you wish Adam had died with all his ribs in his body.
Crazy-style.
I called you last night.
I was doing some detective work.
Snooping, you might say.
- Anything new? - Quite a bit.
Nothing that helps your case.
Go ahead.
I'll make no comment on the merits of the case, of course.
Except to say that I have a keen respect for my learned opponent,
Mr. Fredericks, who as you know, has yet to lose a case.
Look at him, important as a mouse occupyin' a chipmunk hole.
And he's waitin' to slip me the zinger.
Well, if it's bigger than a bread box, it's gonna hurt.
It's a witness.
He's got a witness, or he wouldn't be going
through all this rigmarole. Make him look foolish.
I wish I knew the truth.
If I knew, I could protect my clients against themselves.
- The answer's no. - Hey?
I wouldn't do what you're asking for anybody.
I didn't ask for anything.
I don't get you, Sky.
- Not for that, you don't. - Suspicions, suspicions.
I wish you'd learn to trust me, Sky.
Would you trust somebody who hadn't been south
of the Mason-Dixon since he was eight years old
and still talk like you do?
I guess lunch didn't set too well.
Mrs. Westabrook.
Oh, gee whiz, Sky.
I quit secretarial work
so I wouldn't have to get up at this hour.
Come on, belinda.
Just one more pad, huh?
Here. Hm. Please?
"Memo. Re Clausen and Black.
The insurance company handling..."
No, that's not it. Try the next one.
"Letter to Beacon, Brogan, Berry..."
No. Next one. Keep going.
"Memo. Urgent.
"Re Westabrook, Fleming.
"Notify Calhoun,
issue subpoena to Mr. Anthony Coolidge."
Anthony Coolidge?
- Never heard of him. - You will.
Because the D.A.'s gonna put Mr. Coolidge on the stand
and say, "Mr. Coolidge, where were you on the night
in question?”
And Mr. Coolidge is gonna tell,
how on the night of the murder,
he and his fiance decided to see
a certain musical comedy.
Now, when they got to the box office,
the show was sold out. But wait.
What have we here?
Why, it's a zinger. A handsome young man approaching.
"I have two tickets for this performance
that I can't use,” says the handsome young man.
"Would you care to have them?"
Oh, no, Sky!
Don't tell me that Fleming and the girl
didn't sit through the show.
I thought you'd checked everything.
Look, I did. The seats were occupied.
But nobody could prove it wasn't your clients.
Not until Mr. Coolidge decided to come forward
and be a good citizen.
- Son of a... - You're in for it, pal.
Now, I won't tell you how I know all this.
For god's sake, no, don't tell me.
Because you're an attorney
of very high ethical standards.
But, I'll give you some advice.
Start remembering some very funny stories.
Because when the D.A. gets through with Coolidge
and proves your clients guilty of murder,
he's gonna turn to you and say, "your witness."
At which time, I'll be waiting with sizzling anticipation
to hear what you've got to say.
Did you-all enjoy the show, Mr. Coolidge?
- Yes. - And your lady?
Your fiancee, did you say?
Did she enjoy the show?
- Yes. - Now, that is very nice.
I wonder if you could do me
a favor, Mr. Coolidge.
Try to recall what Mr. Fleming said
when he gave you those two tickets.
Did he say he was doing so in order to establish
an alibi for murder?
Well, no.
Well, he didn't say he was not going
to attend that performance, did he?
Well, he implied it.
He said something had come up
and he couldn't use the tickets.
Those were your words, sir.
And those words don't mean
he was not going to see the show.
- Do they? - Well...
Now, you'd give me a itty-bitty edge on that, wouldn't ya?
Well, those were his words, yes.
Dokey. Now, tell me
the color of the tickets that Mr. Fleming so kindly gave you.
I believe they were, ah... orange?
Orange?
Are you certain?
- Yes. - Like these, Mr. Coolidge?
Yes.
Can you tell me
the numbers on the seats you occupied?
- I'm afraid not. - Ah, no matter.
It's a no-account question, anyway.
Can you remember, sir, whether your fiancee sat
on your left or on your right?
On my right.
Describe the person on your left.
Your honor, is the defense going to introduce
the tickets in evidence or isn't he?
All in good time.
- If it please the court. - Counselor.
Now, the person on your left.
- I, ah... I don't remember. - Was it a man?
No, a lady.
Tell the jury what she was wearing.
I don't remember. I didn't notice.
- Was she pretty? Ugly? Homely? - I don't remember.
You sat next to her for two and a half hours
and you can't tell us a thing about her?
Well, I was looking at the show and at my fiancee.
I had no interest in the lady to my left.
That was no lady, Mr. Coolidge.
That was your hostess, Rene Westabrook.
Objection, your honor.
And seated next to her was your host, Jonathan Fleming.
Objection, your honor, he's drawing conclusion.
No further questions.
Please come to order.
Order. Order in the court.
Here's the gypsy. Hi, gypsy.
We've been looking for you, Sky.
Congratulations on your performance.
Now, is that any way to say it?
That's always been your biggest fault, Sky.
You always want things to be right.
Be right, look right, feel right, smell right.
And this stinks.
The imperfect man insistin' on a perfect world.
Me, I, I can always tolerate a whiff
or something bad now and again.
The wind will always come up and clear the air.
Don't snow me. Save it for the jury.
I stand by what I do in a courtroom, Sky.
- Now, did they kill the man? - Ask them.
Ask her. Me, I don't know and I don't care.
Once an attorney speculates on the guilt or innocence
of his client, he isn't worth the price
of rocks in a potato patch.
You're talking about an attorney or a film-flam artist?
I'm talkin' about someone you, yourself, might need some day.
If you do, I hope you'll remember to think of him,
not as a conjurer but as a friend and a protector.
I'll remember you, if I ever need any theatre tickets.
♪ Be whatever way ♪
♪ He needs you ♪
♪ Angel, lover, friend ♪
"The management will be responsible for coats,
only if they are checked."
Now, that's a square deal if I ever heard one.
"All baking done on premises.”
That's a lie. Show me.
Show me where you do the baking.
Order something with mashed potatoes.
- They sponge up the booze. - No, no, no.
You don't cop off that easy.
I've put up with that lie about baking on the premises
long enough. Now, where's the manager?
I want to see the manager.
Better still, I want to see the baker.
Now, where's the kitchen? You probably don't even have...
Well, well, now, isn't that interesting?
Huh?
Know who that is?
Diogenes.
Yeah. He's the guy that kept walking the streets of Athens
with a lamp in his hand.
Yeah. He'd go up to someone, shove the lamp in his face
and say, "I'm looking for a friend.
I'm looking for an honest man."
You gotta figure a guy like that's
split his melon, don't you?
That's what I always thought.
Now, look at that...
You see what he's got in his other hand,
while he's looking for an honest man?
That, my friend, is a shillelagh.
That's where I made my first mistake.
I forgot my shillelagh.
Well, begorrah, begorrah, begorrah,
if it isn't Sean Magruder.
Where the hell have you been?
Kicky, huh?
An experiment. Op toenails.
Can I get you something?
Coffee, drink...
Bull whip?
You killed him, didn't ya?
Johnny Fleming did.
But it was my idea. My husband was a fink.
That was yesterday, I'm interested in tonight.
Magruder, Sean Magruder.
Well, him. You were right.
I paid him $5000
to give us an alibi. And he ran out.
Is that why he's dead now, because he ran out on you?
If I'd known... What did you say?
Your boyfriend, Fleming, had him dumped in my car.
Sean Magruder, dead?
- You know it. - Killed?
I'd say so with the back of his head blown open.
Oh.
Poor Sean.
That poor woman.
Jim, you're not saying that just to hurt.
Oh, no, no, you wouldn't.
Listen...
Don't touch me! Get out!
I don't want anything to do with you.
I got that message when I saw you and Fleming last night.
You... you'll believe anything of me, won't you?
Anything. Ha.
I've been through a handful of rare treasures in my time,
you're the only ever turned me on that way, the only one,
and you turn to be a, a...
Don't touch me. I said, don't touch me!
- Alright! - And don't touch my phone!
It's my phone! Don't touch me and don't touch my phone.
Hello? It's for you.
Yes.
Sky, the police have
a general alarm out for you.
For me? Why?
- You heard about Magruder? - Have I heard?
He was killed with your service revolver.
You know I-I lost that gun in the fight with that guy
who tried to kill me.
One of two things, Sky.
Number one, you come in and give yourself up.
Number two, you start runnin.'
now, what's it going to be?
Number three.
Please, not my face!
Would you break the hands of a great pianist?
- I want some information. - Take it. Over there.
Top drawer.
Why the strong arm? I told Rena I wouldn't use it.
Very mixed up guy, that husband of hers.
So were gonna put the dead man on trial with this garbage
to get yourself off the hook?
Not entirely original.
But that's what I sort of had in my mind
when I asked Rena to meet me at Fransisco's.
I was a witness to that lip to lip confrontation.
Oh, you were?
Then maybe you heard her beg me not to use it
for the sake of the Westabrook family?
She's full of surprises, that girl.
Made it with her yet, cop?
Where's the guy with the mask you sent after me and my gun?
Now you've lost me.
And I think it's about time I lost you.
Have you met my friend, Harry Samson?
Now, once more, champ, so you don't forget.
Fleming didn't kill Westabrook. And he didn't finger you.
If he wanted you dead, I'd obliged him right now.
Johnny Fleming's a nice guy, and all he wants is to marry
the rich broad and be happy.
Understand?
From Harry Samson, over and out.
If I knew what you were looking for...
Someone your husband worked for.
Someone who fits this crazy thing.
Finchley.
Oh, he's a classy little guy.
Bows to the gents, kisses the lady's hands.
Invites you to sip tea.
He's English, so what?
So Westabrook climbs his wall to use the phone
and Westabrook goes bye-bye.
Magruder goes there to prune some trees
and Magruder goes bye-bye.
I go there to ask a few questions, and some monkey,
in a Halloween mask tries to get me to join them.
Well, let's see what we've got on him.
Mm, Finchley.
Ah, quite a guy from the size of his file.
- Thanks. - Have fun.
Look, Mrs. Gordon. Just like a frozen leg of lamb.
Take him into the bedroom.
You're sure Magruder was well thawed out?
I mean, it would be rather embarrassing, don't you think?
If the coroner were to discover ice crystals
in his liver, or something?
Human flesh is no different from beef or mutton.
In 24 hours, the tissues are limp.
You want this crated, too?
Yes. And be careful with that.
That's worth $10,000.
And then pack the rest of the tapestries.
Well, I finally meet the real Mr. Finchley.
Now then, I'll outline this procedure from this point.
Uh, one moment. Before you go into that.
I've had a thought to pick up a trifle more money. Here.
A last minute request for Mrs. Gordon.
In the sum of $10,000.
Years of faithful service, that sort of thing.
I say, look here.
You came to Gordon and me with a perfectly sound scheme.
You said, that if Finchley were out of the way,
you were a good enough forger to make all of us rich.
And have you any reason to complain?
I have transferred over
a million of Finchley's properties and securities
to our ownership.
I'm saying it's time to pen and ink away.
We don't forge any more documents.
Even if Finchley never met with his lawyers,
we can't go on fooling them forever.
Besides, Mr. Finchley told me years ago that he had provided
for me in his will. Generously so.
A bulletin on the trial.
The tension has been rising
to fever pitch in this past hour,
as we momentarily await the conclusion
of this sensational murder trial.
The jury is back in the courtroom, which would
indicate they have arrived at a verdict.
And it's "not guilty."
Rena Westabrook and Jonathan Fleming are free.
I repeat, Rena Westabrook and Jonathan Fleming
have been found not guilty of murder.
Good. The timing is perfect.
Late tomorrow night, Mr. Loomis Finchley will seemingly die
in a fire that will reduce this place to ashes.
When his death is reported,
there'll be newspaper stories and photographs.
It would be extremely awkward
if a certain two people were to see those photographs.
So it's got to be today. Now, she'll be returning home.
Schuyler will be with her as usual.
Go to Kanawauke Circle. Wait for them.
Right.
Oh, and, uh...
The mask won't be necessary. Just improve the shooting.
Doctor...
Okay, you're all under arrest.
You too, buster.
What did you think when you heard the verdict?
Will you say something for the television audience?
Rena, would you make some comment on the verdict?
Could I have a picture of you kissing Fleming?
- You could not. - Oh, come on, Rena.
I think she means now and never.
The human race is made up of half men and half women.
How can I lose?
Mr. Fleming! Mr. Fleming!
Can I have your autograph please?
Be delighted.
And what's your name, young lady?
Tennessee, you can still boast of never having lost a case.
Have you any comment to make on this one?
A negative point of view.
It muddles a man's perspective.
Remind me of the young couple trying to make up a budget.
Troubles, troubles, troubles, the money just wouldn't stretch.
The father was desperate. The baby cried.
And while the mother dried, dusted and diped
that beautiful pink and perfect creation,
the father grumbled,
"The only thing in the house that's paid for,
and it leaks."
Yeah? You're where?
In the freezer?
I'll be right down.
Hey!
The gate. Hurry. You two come with me.
I hope you're coming in, not going out.
Back to the house. We'll have to clear out.
Westchester Tower, this is helicopter H74. Over.
Control tower to H74. Come in. Over.
Head for Kanawauke Circle.
Uh, urgent, vital. Contact the police.
Tell them to go to Kanawauke Circle.
Find two men waiting to kill Mrs. Loren Westabrook.
- Got that? - Will do.
Tell them to seal off the Finchley estate,
the charge is murder.
Also, have them send a car to the Westabrook place.
We've only got three cars. One of them's in the shop.
The other two are out patrolling
a 110 square miles.
We'll do what we can.
Tower, this is H74.
There's a telephone in Mrs. Westabrook's car.
The number is, uh, KG 62114.
Set up a relay so I can talk to her. Hurry.
That's a tough order, sir.
Just do it, pal. Do it.
Hey.
- Hello? - Rena, this is Jim.
Rena! Rena!
Ah, control tower. Control tower, this is H74.
- What happened? - Relay's broken.
I'll have the mobile unit operator try again.
Well, look, you call her.
Tell her to stop that car.
Tell her not to go near Kanawauke Circle.
What? She didn't, she...
No.
Listen, there's a gas station about a mile up.
Hansens. Hansens.
She has to go by there. Phone ahead.
Tell them to stop her.
- Cooper back yet? - No.
Get everything together quick. We're moving out.
Hey!
Here they come.
It's Schuyler.
Go around. Take the other road.
He's going to come down again.
Turn there.
The gate's closed, ma'am.
I remember the signal. Toot twice, then once.
It's Cooper. Open the gate.
Good afternoon, Mr. Finchley. I've come for tea.
Well, you did invite me.
Oh, of course. Yes, indeed.
Tea.
Damn it, you're half one thing and half another.
A fruitcake. Half fruit and half nuts.
No.
♪ You'll follow ♪
♪ When and where he leads you ♪
♪ His ♪
♪ Right to the end ♪
♪ To be whatever way ♪
♪ He needs you ♪
♪ Angel, lover, friend ♪
♪ To dream your dreams with him ♪
♪ From day to day ♪
♪ To take to share to give ♪
♪ Yes I'd say that would be ♪
♪ A lovely way ♪
♪ To live ♪
♪ Mmmm ♪
♪ Yes I'd say that would be ♪
♪ A lovely way ♪
♪ To live ♪