All language subtitles for L_Assassin_est_il_Coupable_1967

- What's cooking?
- It's all quiet here. How about you?

Nothing. It's almost midnight,
let's close up shop.

Unit Four-K-Two.
Request cancellation of Code Nine.

Seascape and Kenmore.
No sign of the prowler.

Control One to Four-K-Two. Stand by.

Four-K-Two, watch commander advises
continuing Code Nine until 1:00 a.m.

Four-K-Two, KLB 8-0-6.

Even the psycho killer isn't psycho enough
to come out on a night like this.

- What does that make us?
- I don't know.

- But it's your turn now, Charlie boy.
- Oh, thank you very much.

All right, hold it right there.
I'm a police officer. Hold it!

Hold it!

Hold it.

Hold it!

Now, put the bag down.

Hey, Tom.

- What happened?
- He pulled a gun. I had to blow him over.

We're police officers.
Somebody turn on the pool lights.

You, send for an ambulance.

They never look like they're supposed to.

He never knew what hit him.

- Hey, where's his gun?
- Hell, it's probably in the pool.

Take a look in his bag.

I just hope you got him
before he carved up another girl.

Hey, Tom. Tom, look at this.

"Dr. James B. Ruston.
166 Crescent Road, Bel Air, California."

That's our psycho killer?

Valens, get in here.

You look like something
the cat dragged in.

You ought to see the other guy.

I have, in living black and white.
What went wrong, Tom?

- You read my D.B. report.
- Twice.

But damn it,
there has to be more to it than that.

There isn't.
I gave it to you exactly as it happened.

- He pulled a gun.
- What gun?

What do you mean, "what gun"?

Are you sure you saw one?

What's going on, Roy?

How long have you been back
on active duty?

- Seven, eight months, you know that.
- And the wound.

- Still giving you trouble?
- Yes, the wound gives me trouble.

Tonight's scene was almost a repeat
of that liquor store heist a year ago.

What?

Except then you had a punk kid trapped
in an alley. A punk so scared

he opened fire while you were still trying
to talk him out of his gun.

- Well, that's ancient history.
- Is it?

Or is the memory gonna spook you
every time you see some suspect

reach for his wallet?

All right, Roy, just what in the hell
is going on around here?

Klodin. Yeah.

Yeah. Are you positive?

Okay. Right. In the morning.

That was Musso.
They can't find Ruston's gun.

That is just impossible.
I'm gonna help him find...

No. As of tonight, you're relieved
of all further field duty.

- I'm what?
- You'll work a desk job

- until the inquest is over.
- How come?

Let's just call it doctor's orders.

Look, Roy,
I saw the gun in the man's hand.

Now, how can they miss anything that big?

No talking till the inquest.
And then be prepared for rough sledding.

- This one's gonna get bloody.
- Why should it?

Because Dr. James B. Ruston,

so far he checks out like Mr. Clean
and Santa Claus rolled into one.

Money, society, the whole bit.

And if you're still thinking of him
as our psycho killer,

he had an airtight alibi for every one
of those other killings.

You read me?

Yeah.

Good afternoon, everyone,

this is Jerry Dunphy
with headlines of the hour.

Los Angeles. Three days after the death
of Dr. James B. Ruston

the question of "Why? Why did it happen?"

Is still being asked
by irate citizens across the city

as authorities continue to piece together
the facts behind this tragic episode.

Valens, no. Police brutality must go.

When I was young, a policeman was
always a friend, someone to be trusted.

But now it's different.
Police are different.

And how do I explain Sergeant Valens
to my children?

How do I say to them, "Trust him,
let him help you across the street

even though his hands are bloody"?

It's a protest, baby.

To sing out that the sadists and finks
are trying to take over here, man.

About Valens, me and my people say,
"Throw the bum out."

I'm just here to see
if the same punishment

they would have used on me
if I had killed an innocent man

will be applied to this Valens case

or will he get
the usual coat of whitewash?

The people speak.

Meanwhile, funeral services
for Dr. Ruston will be held Friday

at the First Community Church,
Beverly Hills.

A native Californian, Dr. Ruston
led an active life as a sportsman

when he wasn't busy with his patients
or relaxing with his wife and son.

Here we see him receiving an award
from the Mexican-American Foundation

for his work among the villages
of lower California.

Concerned by conditions
he'd encountered there

on a hunting trip several years ago,
Dr. Ruston, who piloted his own plane,

appointed himself chief physician
for the area

and made frequent trips
to the village of San Rosario

where he could always
count on receptions like this.

Finally, Dr. Ruston's widow,

as she arrived home yesterday from Hawaii,
where she was vacationing when news

of her husband's untimely death
reached her.

As for Sergeant Valens,
the ten-year veteran is playing it tight

giving out only his name,
rank, and serial number

and hoping the explosion he's set off
will burn itself out

after today's coroner's inquest.

Yes, sir.

This is the gun
that Sergeant Valens always carries.

I recognize the hand grips.

When you reached him, Sergeant,
was his gun still in his hand?

Yes, sir.

Can you remember the first words
he said to you?

Something like, "He tried to pull a gun.
I had to blow him up."

What about this second gun?
Was it in evidence?

No, sir. It was not.

Did you search for it?

Well, not right away.

Since the gun wasn't on the ground,
I naturally assumed that...

the gun had fallen in the pool
with the suspect.

That seemed like the natural place for it.

And then, of course, we were kept busy
trying to identify the suspect

and keep the people away.

How soon afterward did you actually
begin to hunt for the suspect gun?

About three or four minutes
after the ambulance arrived.

And then, Tom, that's Sergeant Valens,
had to take his report into headquarters,

and I was assigned
to collect the physical evidence.

And?

There was no gun.

I take it you made a thorough search?

Yes, sir.

Some officers and I went over
the whole area with a fine-tooth comb.

- Including the swimming pool?
- I beg your pardon?

- Including the swimming pool?
- Yes, sir.

I had the manager drain the pool,
and the gun was not there.

All right, I have no further questions,
thank you. Mr. Sanderman,

does the District Attorney's office
have any questions?

Thank you, Mr. Jerez. Yes.

Actually, I'm a little concerned about

whether anyone could possibly
have removed the alleged gun

from the premises
without the police knowing about it?

Well, that's hardly likely, sir.
You see, the area was posted,

and only official personnel
were allowed on the scene.

I see.

Therefore, since you were unable
to find Dr. Ruston's gun,

isn't it logical to conclude
that no such gun ever existed?

Well, I will say this, sir.

I've known Sergeant Valens
since he first joined the force.

And if he says the suspect was armed,
I'd be inclined to agree with him.

And over the years, he's proven
that he's no trigger-happy cop

who pushes the panic button
when the pressure is on.

I can say this because I've seen him
under fire, taking all kinds of hell.

And personally, I don't know
of any officer in my command

I'd sooner trust my life to
than Tom Valens.

Captain, I'm sure we all agree

that Sergeant Valens' prior record
is above reproach.

Maybe you can tell us why he failed
to fire a customary warning shot

when he tried to stop Dr. Ruston.

- You know we don't fire a warning shot.
- Yes, I know. Tell them.

Our officers are instructed never to shoot
unless it's absolutely unavoidable.

This is to prevent
hitting some innocent bystander.

Thank you, Captain.

Now, Mr. Sanderman?

Captain, in view
of what you were just saying,

isn't it absolutely essential
for every police officer

to be, among other things,
a man of excellent judgment?

Of course.

Did Sergeant Valens exercise

excellent or even good judgment
in this particular instance, do you think?

He had no alternative.

Remember, he was staked out
in search of a killer,

a psychopath who has already butchered
three victims in Los Angeles this month.

- It's created an atmosphere of fear...
- Now just a minute.

Are you suggesting that mass hysteria
can justify the taking of a human life?

- No!
- If you are, I'm afraid that you are...

No, damn it, I'm not!

Sergeant Valens acted on the facts
as he saw them at the moment.

I can't blame him for that.

Much as I might wish
that things had turned out differently.

Do you swear to tell the truth,

the whole truth and nothing
but the truth, so help you God?

Of course. An oath is very sacred to me.

Will you sit down, please?

Thank you.

Now then, will you tell us your name
and where you live?

Alice Willows.

No, please, into the microphone,
Miss Willows, and speak to them.

Alice Willows, Seascape Apartments.

Thank you.
Miss Willows, first of all, I want to say

how much we appreciate
your coming here today.

You were Dr. Ruston's patient,
Miss Willows.

He was a wonderful doctor.

The only one who ever cared
the least bit what became of me.

I don't know what I'll do
now that he's gone.

Well, last Thursday night,
Dr. Ruston visited you at your apartment.

- Isn't that right?
- He came... He came every Thursday.

He treated me for my diabetes.
It was his regular visit.

Yes. Now, according
to the investigating officer,

Dr. Ruston came to your apartment
about eleven o'clock,

and he left shortly after midnight.

- And was that customary?
- Yes.

- Then if...
- He knew I'd be awake.

It's part of my condition.
Some nights I don't sleep at all.

And then in the daytime,
there's all that racket.

People splashing in the pool
and shouting at the top of their lungs.

I've complained to Mr. Garvin,
but he wouldn't listen either.

- I think it's terrible.
- Yes, I'm sure it is, Miss Willows.

Getting back to last Thursday night.

Did you notice anything different,

I mean, something unusual
about Dr. Ruston?

No. He was the same as usual.

He did complain about the fog.

Said he hoped it would lift
before he had to leave.

But it didn't.

So, he got up and patted my face,
then went out the door looking for Caesar.

Who is Caesar, Miss Willows?

My dog. He's been with me for years.

A Longhaired Terrier.
You don't see many of them anymore.

They've gone out of fashion.

But I'd rather have Caesar

than ten French poodles
with fancy pedigrees.

- Miss Willows, may I ask you...
- Dr. Ruston felt the same way.

Always brought him something soft
to eat or a toy.

I don't know how I'll ever make Caesar
understand what's happened...

You say Dr. Ruston went outside to look
for Caesar. Now you're sure of that?

Yes, and when I heard all that shouting,
I thought he'd found him.

Then that terrible shooting.

So loud.

I just knew something awful had happened.

I started to shake.

Why, even when Caesar
scratched at the door,

I couldn't let him in
for the longest time.

Caesar was trembling, too.

He went right to his basket
and wouldn't come out until daybreak.

Poor Dr. Ruston.

Do you think I've done him some good?

Where the hell did you go?
I've been looking all over for you.

Now that you've found me, hurrah.

Don't make me the heavy.
I did the best I could.

You're a good man, Ed.
No matter what anyone says.

- Another one, mister?
- Why not?

Yeah, I'll have the same.

Say, Joanie called me this morning.

Joanie who?

Did you know she's working
at a photography studio these days?

She said ever since this thing broke,
she's been calling you every night,

- but you won't pick up the phone.
- I repeat, Joanie who?

Come on, Tom, she's still your wife.

For ten more days,
then the final decree comes in.

It's all over but the alimony.

Well, she wanted to tell you
the same thing we've been trying to push

through that thick skull of yours.
Tell them you thought you saw the gun.

No.

For God's sake, this case has kicked up
emotions people didn't know they had.

Goody, goody, a cop goofed. Big daddy
is human just like the rest of us.

So let's get out the tar and feathers,
and the line forms on the right.

Come on, Tom.

Look, just give them what they want
to hear. So you made a mistake.

You're sorry, you thought you saw the gun.

I didn't make a mistake.

Now, damn it, Ed, I saw the gun!

Here you go, gents. Drink hearty.

What is that?

Buttermilk.

For those who think clean.

Hey, it'll improve your eyesight.

Now, Sergeant Valens, in view
of the testimony presented here today,

I want to know if you care
to amend your statement

regarding the death of Dr. Ruston.

No, sir.

I reported the truth as it happened.

That's all right, but I'm sure you're
aware of certain discrepancies between...

your version of the truth, and the truth
as other people have reported.

Yes, sir.
However, I would like to say this:

No matter how much testimony
is given to the contrary

concerning Dr. Ruston's motives
for being at Seascape or whatever..

It doesn't alter the fact that he did run
from me in a suspicious manner,

and when cornered, he pulled a gun.

That's the truth, the truth as I know it.

Well, what about this gun,
can you describe it to us?

My impression was of a .38 caliber pistol,
three or four inch barrel.

I only saw it for a second.

You're quite sure it was a gun?
It couldn't have been some other object?

- Maybe a fountain pen or..
- No, it...

- No, it was a pistol.
- Mr. Sanderman.

Sergeant, you say when you first
observed the suspect,

he was behaving in a suspicious manner.
Could you elaborate?

It was the way he stood, the way he moved.

Anything else?

When you've been a police officer
for as long as I have, you...

you begin to know instinctively
when a man has something going on.

But he was doing nothing
of an overt criminal nature at the time?

No.

Yet you say a few moments later
you shot at this man

in order to save your own life?
That is correct?

I shot in self-defense.
I don't believe that I consciously...

That my intent was to Kill.

I take it, then, that in your own mind,

you're completely satisfied
with your actions.

I don't think anyone is completely
satisfied about killing a man.

Other than that,
my answer would have to be yes.

Sergeant, I understand...

about a year ago,
you suffered a bad stomach wound

in somewhat similar circumstances.

Could this possibly have been
on your mind last Thursday night?

It's not something you forget.

No, I guess not.

After that incident,
you were quoted as saying

that you would never again
let a man pull a gun on you.

Do you recall that statement?

Well, I...

I may have said it.
But if I did, it was a stupid remark.

Sergeant...

since returning to duty,
have you participated in many cases

where the suspect was armed
and resisting arrest?

No, sir. Last Thursday night
was the first time.

Sergeant, one final point.

The gun you saw...

was it in Dr. Ruston's hand...

or only in your mind?

The gun was in Dr. Ruston's hand.

I need a statement.
Excuse me, pardon me.

Come on, Mr. Sanderman,
what do you think the verdict will be?

- No comment.
- Give us a break.

- Are you gonna go after Valens, too?
- If the coroner's jury

brings in a verdict
of criminal negligence,

you can be assured
my office will prosecute.

What will you ask for, though?

- Let's wait and see.
- But have you enough of a case

to make the charges stick?

Well, frankly, gentlemen,
at first I didn't think so.

Not until I listened to the one witness
who seems determined

to bury Sergeant Valens alive.

Who's that?

Mr. Valens, I've noticed
you're not represented by counsel.

Any particular reason for that?

I haven't had time
to hire an attorney, Your Honor.

In that case, I'm prepared to grant you
a 24-hour continuance

so that you may obtain counsel,
if you so desire.

No continuance is necessary,
Your Honor.

Let the record show that the defendant
chooses to stand in propria persona.

I'd like to advise you of your rights

and the rights of the court
in this matter.

You're being arraigned here
on a charge of manslaughter.

Now you've heard the complaint
against you,

and you have the right to plead
either guilty or not guilty to the charge.

You may also, if you wish,
request the court for time

in which to answer the complaint.

Depending upon your decision,

the court will then rule
as it deems proper. Is that clear?

Yes, sir.

Very well, Mr. Valens. How do you respond?

Not guilty.

Then the court orders you
to return in ten court days

for the preliminary hearing on the charge.

Your Honor, my office requests
appropriate bail be set

to guarantee the defendant's appearance.

Mr. Sanderman, do you have reason
to believe that the defendant

does not intend to abide
by the jurisdiction of this court?

I'm merely trying to protect
the public interest, Your Honor.

Very commendable.
However, failing evidence of such intent

and in view of Mr. Valens' position
as a police officer,

I see no reason for not releasing him
on his own recognizance,

pending his preliminary hearing.

Thank you, Your Honor.

Can we continue
with the arraignment calendar, please?

Sanderman.

- Can I talk to you for a minute?
- What's there to say, Sergeant?

You're in one corner, I'm in the other.
Good luck, and come out swinging.

Hasn't anyone told you
we're on the same side?

Believe it or not, some of my best friends
are police officers.

Why, I'd even let one of them
marry my daughter.

That's no answer. Why are you pushing me?

Because you're a special breed.

The first time I saw your kind of cop,
I was a kid back in Chicago.

I watched one of you
smash in the skull of a dumb hunky.

He'd wandered
into the wrong section of town

and he couldn't understand
five words of English.

He just happened to be my father.

That's why, whenever the chance comes
to cut one of you bastards down to size...

it just warms the cockles of my heart.

- I get the message.
- Also, get yourself a good lawyer.

You looked dumb up there today, Valens.

Dumb like a hunky. And everybody
knows what happens to them.

Four, please.

Indeed, yes.

I'd be most interested
in taking your case, Sergeant.

I have followed it very closely.

Good. Then we can get started.

However, I'm not sure
that you will want to hire me

after you hear what I've got to say.

I'm listening.

As your attorney, I'm afraid
I'd feel obliged to plead you guilty.

In exchange for clemency.

In other words,
try for a deal with Sanderman.

But, Mr. Ames, I'm not guilty.

Doesn't that mean anything?

Damn little, my friend.

But that's why I want to hire you.
With you on my side,

I can fight this and win.
I swear to you, I'm right.

You're in the right
only if a jury says you're in the right.

Use your head. Let me try for a deal.

You'll get no worse
than probation out of it.

- Afterwards, you can pick up the threads...
- Mr. Ames, I'm a police officer.

That's what I am. That's what I do best.

If I plead guilty, I'm through.

And what'd be left
wouldn't be worth stooping down for.

I was a Navy career officer.

Came the war..

I found out a man can begin over
when he has to.

Face it, Sergeant. Your career as a cop
ended when you pulled that trigger.

No, sir.

Whether they convict you now or not,
the verdict's in.

In the public's eye,
you will always be a cop

who shot an innocent man.

There's only one thing to do.

Then you will plead guilty?

No. I have to prove
that Dr. James B. Ruston

is not the innocent man
that everyone thinks he is.

Thank you for your time, sir.

Well, it was a perfect burial.

But then what can you expect from a town
where nobody ever made a mistake

until Sergeant Tom Valens came along.

Forget the 12.5% increase
in Los Angeles burglaries,

forget our 40% increase in murders.

Or the ever-growing number of teenage
drug addicts crowding our jails.

Never mind all that. We, perfect ones,
must concentrate only on lynching Valens,

the villain,
for his insidious transgression.

Or isn't it about time that we stopped
acting like a mob of vigilantes

and admit maybe the rest of us
aren't quite as perfect as we pretend?

Let's even admit, and I want to suggest
this before he achieves sainthood...

that perhaps even Dr. James Ruston
made his share of errors, too.

Of course, when a doctor makes a mistake,
the worst he can expect

is a civil suit for malpractice.

The community doesn't throw rocks
or banish him to Siberia.

No, we realize that accidents
will happen. Doctors are only human.

Well, aren't cops human, too?

And isn't it high time we told Valens

and every other police officer
patrolling this city,

"It's okay, buddy.
Nobody expects you to win them all."

This is Perry Knowland
saying thank you and goodnight.

- Okay, that's a wrap.
- Okay.

Watch those tight close-ups, will you?

- Mr. Knowland.
- Yeah.

- Mr. Knowland, I'd like to talk to you.
- Valens. Well, now, let's play detective.

Correct me if I'm wrong.
You've been watching my show all week,

and you came hotfooting it down here
to lick my hand, right?

- I would like to say thank you.
- I bet you would.

Hold that, will you? Listen, Sarge,

I think maybe you and I better understand
each other very clearly right now.

All that garbage
I've been spewing about you all week,

I don't believe a word of it.
See you around.

Well, then why did you say it?

It's easy to see you're not a very avid
fan of mine, Sarge. Because if you were,

you'd know my gimmick is playing
the devil's advocate of television land.

I'm the stone in the public shoe,
the boil on the community backside.

People tune me in for the pleasure
of cursing me out. Whatever they're for,

I'm against, and vice versa.
And for that little distinction,

I'm paid $300,000 a year. Next question?

Pardon my stupidity.

Now, hold on there, partner.
Just a minute. If you, by any chance

came here to dish the dirt
on dear departed Doc Ruston, you...

couldn't have come to a better source.

You see, we were members
of the same golf club.

Poor son of a gun never could break 85.

He married into an old-line family
of Carmichaels.

Down there, sweetheart.

But I guess he and Doris didn't hit it off
too well. Mostly, he went his way,

- she went hers, you know.
- Did they have any children?

Yeah, one boy, Philip.
Dreadful little snot,

spoiled rotten by his mother,
ignored continually by his father.

In there.

A typical happy family.

Did Dr. Ruston play around?

I...

I don't know.
I never heard any rumors about that.

But that could mean he was adept
at covering up his tracks, right?

Or maybe he really was a saint
to abstain from earthly pleasure

in his devotion
to helping the poor of Baja.

That would really throw you,
wouldn't it, Sarge?

- Do me a favor, Mr. Knowland.
- At your service, chief.

Be against me.

I'd feel cleaner.

Lose something, pal?

Just my sanity, pal.

Yes? What is it?

My name is Valens.
I'd like to ask you a few questions.

If it's about a vacancy,
you'll have to see Mr. Garvin.

It's about Dr. Ruston.

Please sit down, young man.

No, not there, please.
That's Dr. Ruston's chair.

I always save it for him.
We'll have a cup of tea together.

Orange jasmine. It's my favorite.
Did you know him?

Not exactly.

Caesar, mind your manners.

This gentleman didn't come here
to steal your toys.

I don't think he likes me.
We've met before.

He's very old,
and he hasn't got many teeth.

- That's why he growls at everybody.
- Thank you.

- I'm sure he's still a good companion.
- Oh, yes.

Since they took Dr. Ruston away,

he's the only one I have
to talk to anymore.

Dear Dr. Ruston.

Yes, wasn't he just the darlingest man?

Always trying to make life easier.
He even helped me find this apartment.

Well, it's very nice.

You're very lucky to have had a doctor
willing to call on you at all hours.

Did Caesar find his dolly?

That's a good boy.

Dr. Ruston gave it to him.
I think that's why he loves it so.

Miss Willows, did you ever sign a paper
making Dr. Ruston your beneficiary?

Of course not.

Did you lend him money?

That's a terrible thing to say.

How do you account
for the special treatment he showed you?

He liked me.

He did. He liked me.

And anyway,
my father put all my money in trust.

The bank looks after everything.

More orange jasmine, young man?
Don't be shy. Help yourself.

No thanks.

Caesar and I enjoyed your company.

- Thank you.
- Next time we'll have Pink Gardenia.

It's my favorite.

Just think, I flunked high school French
three years running.

Hey, if you're making a survey,
my favorite book's Little Women.

You're Valens, the cop they busted.

I saw your picture in the paper.
What are you doing out here?

- I'm trying to get my job back.
- Yeah? Cody. Walt Cody.

Come on in, rest your weary gumshoes.
Always glad to talk to a fellow outcast.

I don't want to interrupt
the French lesson.

Yvonne? She's a tinker toy.

You wind her up, she doesn't bother
calling again for days. Come on in.

In here, Sherlock.

Pure vitamin D.

It does wonders for a man.
Would you believe I'm 74 years old?

Sunshine's free.

What, and have all the goodies around here
thinking I'm a spoiled, lazy bum?

- You mean you're not.
- The deductive mind at work, huh?

You see a virile young stud
loafing around his pad

in the middle of the day,
and right away you think...

Little Lord Moneybags, with a bankbook
where his backbone ought to be, right?

- Yeah, something like that.
- Well, I'm sorry, Valens.

I'm just another working stiff.

I fly those great metal birds
you city folks call airplanes.

- You're a pilot.
- Well, only to beautiful women,

small boys, and my mother.
To Trans-Coastal Airways, I'm a copilot.

Which in my little caste system world
means a hell of a difference.

But that's my problem. I'd rather hear
about yours. Take your time,

I don't have a plane out till 4:00.

Just walking around
trying to pick up the pieces.

I wish I could help you,
but the sorry fact is I wasn't even here

the night it happened.
The airport got fogged in,

they diverted us to Burbank
and bussed us home.

By the time I got here,
the bang-bang was all over.

That's the story of my life.
I'm never where the action is.

- Well, thanks anyway.
- Hey, what's your rush?

A friend of mine flew in
some high-test Scotch yesterday.

No, thanks.
Nowadays my drink's buttermilk.

Buttermilk? Have you seen a doctor?
Oh, I'm sorry that's a bad joke.

You remember Dr. Ruston around here much?

Not here or anywhere else.

Have you talked
to the rest of the neighbors?

All except an S. Sherman.

He seems to be out of town for a while.
You know anything about him?

Well, enough to know that her
ain't a him. "S" stands for Shari.

She's a photographer's model.

And, daddy, she makes the rest
of the goodies around here

look like basket cases.

She live alone?

Well, that's a matter of opinion.

Mine is that she's got something frantic
going with somebody

judging from the sound effects
that filter through in the small hours.

- A boyfriend.
- Must be.

Otherwise, why would
she make herself off-limits

to her friendly neighborhood neighbor?

Maybe she doesn't like the athletic type.

Hey, make that your first question when
you get her under the lights, will you?

And tell her I'm not bulgy, just flexible.

Must be another tinker toy.

- Hi.
- No, he does the winding.

Hi.

- How does that look, Frank?
- That's fine.

Let's have a little more neckline.

Now that's better. That's beautiful.

Okay, honey. Here we go.

What in the hell
do you think you are doing?

I'm just trying to make them
more attractive, that's all.

May I inform you, Mr. Henderson,

that well-dressed ladies
do not wear clothes.

Well-dressed ladies allow the clothes
to wear them.

Would you mind getting away
from my camera, please?

Would you mind
getting out of my life, please?

I'm just photographing what people like.

Mrs. Valens, would you mind
taking care of something else

and leave my mannequins alone?

Yes. Would you mind not stepping
on the drapes?

I'll get off the damn drapes.

Let's go with the session,
we're wasting too much time. Let's go.

Joanie, telephone.

Hello.

Joanie, this is Tom. I'm sorry
to bother you, but I need a favor.

Sorry, sir, but if you check again, you'll
find you've dialed the wrong number.

Please, Joanie.

Yes, go on.
Your voice is beginning to ring a bell.

I have to locate a model
by the name of Shari Sherman.

She lives at the Seascape Apartments
in Brentwood.

Her mail indicates she hasn't been home
since the night Ruston died.

I want you to check her out for me,
the agency she worked for,

photographers she might have worked for,
anybody who might know where she is now.

Yes, sir, yes. I understand.

I'll get the brochure off to you
as soon as possible.

Very good, sir.

Thank you for thinking of us.

I never stopped.

All right, Susan, the look of disdain.

Good girl.

Take, sweetheart, come on, sweetheart.
You're not giving me anything.

You're so stiff. I can understand this.
You're nervous, I understand.

It's not your fault. Now look,

this leg's extended in this fashion.
The arm here rests very peacefully

with this hand...

What's so funny?

I'm sorry, you just looked so...

So what?

You are both disappointed
because we're not showing bosoms today.

I have a suggestion for both of you.
Take the day off.

And take this square box
that you call a camera, go to a farm...

and photograph cows.

I suppose you would prefer bulls.

Captain.

Can I drop you somewhere?

Oh, Tom. Thanks, I'm on my way
to Felipe for a fast sandwich.

I got to be back in a few minutes,
special show-up.

Sure, hop in.

- What are you doing downtown?
- Driving around.

Happened to be in the neighborhood.
Come on.

- Hungry?
- Famished.

- Bad mood?
- Lousy mood.

I guess it'd be foolish for me to tell you
what I found out from Hal Brody,

the insurance investigator
handling Ruston's claim.

It certainly would.

Well, he came up with a very interesting
bit of information.

It seems Ruston was a gambler.

You know, cards, horse races,
crap tables, you name it.

He was in debt up to his teeth.
He even borrowed on his life insurance.

Then about two years ago,
he paid off all his debts.

- He'd been living pretty good ever since.
- Turn left at the next traffic light.

Want to see a picture of a pretty girl?

Name's Shari Sherman.
Lives at the Seascape Apartments.

I think she's Ruston's mistress.

You gotta be kidding.

No. Thanks to Joanie, I spent an hour
with the photographer

that uses her the most.

He told me she's been living
with a married man secretly

for almost two years now.

- Yeah, so?
- So that's what bothered me.

Dr. Ruston's night calls on Miss Willows,
it didn't make sense.

It makes a lot more sense

when you know that Shari Sherman
lives in the next apartment.

- Go on.
- Yeah.

The photographer also told me Shari
has an ex-husband, the jealous type,

the type that won't let her go.

That brings us to last Thursday night.
The night of the stakeout.

What about it?

I think the ex-husband found out
about the affair.

He threatened to blow the lid off
the whole thing.

So when Ruston came by
for his usual Thursday night visit...

Shari gave him the bad news.

"Be careful, my husband's on a rampage."

He gets out of there in a hurry,
spends some extra time with Miss Willows,

looking out the window at the fog.

But really looking for Herman,
the homicidal husband.

Exactly.

He finally decides the coast is clear.
He sneaks out the building

and is hurrying towards his car when
suddenly a man jumps out of the bushes,

yells at him to stop. He panics, and...

It all fits, Roy.

Yeah. But that still leaves
the missing gun.

If I can get into Shari's apartment,

maybe I can find something
that ties Shari with Ruston.

That'll explain what happened to the gun.

But how can you get into Shari's apartment
without a search warrant?

Oh, you rat.

You low, conniving rat-fink rat.

Seems you people like to bother us.
I haven't finished my supper yet.

- What's Miss Sherman done, anyway?
- Just routine. Let's go.

I think we got a dead one.
Smells like it's been here awhile.

Tom.

All I can give is a curbstone diagnosis,
but I expect the post will bear me out.

Death was caused by surgical abortion.

It was a clumsy job,
resulting in massive hemorrhaging.

Could it have been self-inflicted? Here.

Thanks. Impossible.

This was a D and C, performed, much as
I hate to admit it, by a trained doctor.

But if a doctor did the job,

wouldn't he have seen something
was wrong and been able to save her?

Sure. If he had stayed around
to keep an eye on the situation.

My guess is that when she slipped
into shock, there was no one to treat her.

Can you tell how long she'd been dead?

Maybe more than a week, maybe less.

- You can pick any number you like.
- All right, I pick Thursday, a week ago.

- Why not?
- Why not?

Roy, I make it this way.
Ruston was Shari's lover.

She got pregnant, he talked her
into an abortion, he performed it.

He came back last Thursday night
to check on her and found her dead.

Can't you just see him in Miss Willows'
apartment, listening to her talk,

all the while trying to figure out a way
to save his own skin.

Tom, we haven't turned up one fact
connecting Ruston with the girl.

He's scared. He's guilty and he's scared.

He's so scared,
all he can think of is to run.

So he runs. He runs into me, a cop.

I hate sounding like a broken record,
but what about the gun?

Now, first things first.

If I can prove that Ruston's guilty
of criminal abortion,

I got me a whole new ball game.

Tom, look, go slow, this is all theory.
There's no proof, and the minute...

- It's Valens.
- Who let them in? Get him outta here.

- Are you the one who found her?
- No comment.

- Were you her secret lover?
- No comment.

- Did her husband know about you?
- What question is that?

- Give us a statement.
- He's not gonna answer that question.

- She pulled a gun on you, too?
- She didn't.

- Then who did?
- Nobody pull...

- You afraid to make a statement?
- No, I'm not.

- Don't!
- I'll give them a statement!

I've called this conference today
to answer certain allegations

in connection with the death
of Miss Shari Sherman.

Sergeant Tom Valens is asking
that his suspension

from the Los Angeles Police Department
be lifted immediately

in the light of new evidence he feels

links Miss Sherman
with the late Dr. James B. Ruston.

The implication being that the doctor
was her lover,

and that he performed an illegal
operation on the young woman,

which resulted in her tragic demise.

Gentlemen, I hold a statement

signed an hour ago
by a Mr. Arthur Elmore of this city.

Mr. Elmore is a married man,

but he's had the courage
to come forward voluntarily

to admit that he, and he alone,
was Miss Sherman's secret paramour

and the man responsible for her operation.

He also gave us the name and address
of the unlicensed quack

who performed this dreadful butchery,

and we are now holding both these men
in our custody. Thank you, gentlemen.

That's all I wanted to say.

What will now happen to Valens?

It's one thing to shoot down
an innocent man,

but to deliberately smear his memory

with lies and false accusations
is beyond contempt.

I personally assure you that
Sergeant Valens' suspension will stand.

And his trial in the death of Dr. Ruston
will proceed as scheduled.

Damn it, I don't care why you did it.
You did it.

I tried to warn you, but no,
you had to go shooting your mouth off.

I made a mistake. I'm sorry. I...

You're sorry. Big deal.

Because of you, I've been on the carpet
all morning trying to explain

why we were at the Sherman apartment
in the first place.

After this, I'll be lucky
if I keep my division.

- Roy...
- No. I've had it. I'm through!

Go do your whining some place else.

Me, I'm sorry I ever laid eyes on you.

Hello.

It's freezing in here.

I'll light a fire.

Well, I... I don't have anything
in the house to offer you.

Unless you drink buttermilk.

How are you, Tom?

I haven't forgotten
our divorce is final in three days.

It's three days, 14 hours,
and seven minutes.

So?

So, I'm being good to the last drop.

I'm much warmer now.

Is this your idea of some kind of loyalty?

Oh, I'm not that noble.

I never was.

I just had to see you again, Tom.

Look... the job's gone.

The war belongs to somebody else,
and maybe there's a chance for us again.

Tom, you never really needed me before,
but now I think you do.

Joanie...

Am I making a complete fool of myself?

No.

Is there somebody else?

There's never been anyone else.

Don't just stand there.

Need me.

God.

It's good to be home.

Let's go away in a few days.
Just the two of us.

But first we must find you
the best lawyer in town

and make everyone see how deeply
you regret this whole thing ever happened.

The things people...
are saying about me, do you believe them?

Those awful stories in the papers?
Of course not. How could I?

I mean, do you think I did wrong?

I don't know. I don't care.

Look, just tell them you're sorry.

Anybody can make a mistake.

I didn't make a mistake.

Joanie...

Honey, I'd like to stay
in your arms forever, but...

I can't. I didn't make a mistake.

Tom?

Do you know what it took for me
to come here tonight?

I think so.

Well, then, please, meet me halfway.

You don't mean halfway, Joanie,
you mean your way.

Nothing's changed, has it?

No, unfortunately nothing's changed.

You fool. You stupid fool!

Oh, hi. The inventory's on the desk.

You can take it with you
or sit down and check it off right now.

You must be Mr. Johnson.

My. You sound so much older on the phone.

Well, everybody says that, Miss... Thayer?

Right.

That's a good beginning,
one registered nurse.

Terribly sorry, sir,
but I am not part of the furnishings.

Thought you were a fixture around here.

No. I'm too young to be a fixture.

Besides, these days,
three years on the job

doesn't even qualify me
as a junior fixture.

So I guess Monday I'll have to start
looking for another job.

I wouldn't think you'd have
too much trouble finding a job.

No, but you know a job like this
comes along once in a lifetime.

And I guess I'm spoiled.

Dr. Ruston...

nice guy to work for, huh?

Oh, was he? Gee, the hours were terrific.

And the work was a snap, and...

Well, since that first year
when things were a little tight,

he practically tripled my salary.

- Must have had a very rich clientele.
- Oh, no.

Excuse me.

Hello, Dr. Ruston's office.

Yes.

Yes, sir, all right,
I'll be expecting you.

Why, that was Mr. Johnson.

He said he won't be
coming in today after all.

And what did you say your name was??

I didn't.

But it's Valens. Tom Valens.

Oh, no.

You're not the man who murdered him.

- Miss...
- Stay away from me.

Miss Thayer, nobody was murdered.

How can you come in here like this
to his office, smiling and joking?

What kind of a human being are you?

A desperate human being.
I need some answers.

Just get out of here.

- All I want...
- Go on, get out.

- Miss Thayer...
- If you don't get out of here

in five seconds I'm going to scream.

One, two, three, four, five.

Come on, Rusty, he's had it. Let's split.

Oh, my God.

What happened?

Can you walk?

Lean on me.

Come on, sit down right here.

Give me your jacket.

I better call a doctor.

- No doctor.
- But you might be badly hurt.

A doctor would have to call the police.

Don't you want
whoever did this to you punished?

You know a kid named Rusty?

That's Philip's nickname.
Dr. Ruston's son.

No doctor. No police.

What difference does that make?

By the time the papers
got through with it, I...

I'd be accused of beating up
Dr. Ruston's son

and the three boy scouts
who came to his rescue.

Now, you just patch me up
as best you can. I got an appointment.

You can't be serious. You can barely walk.

I'll walk or crawl, I've got to get
out of here. I got three days left.

You find something and clean me up
and send me on my way. Now, go on.

You scare me, you know?

Before, I thought
I had you all figured out.

Guilty as sin.

And now?

You're so damn sincere, I can't stand it.

And you smell good.

You don't.

- Answer a question for me?
- Sure.

How does a doctor...

who three years ago
couldn't make ends meet...

and with the same small list of patients
is able to die a wealthy man?

No big mystery.

Dr. Ruston played the stock market a lot.

Somebody gave him a tip
on some Canadian stock that came in.

He told me about it
when he raised my salary.

Also, I've seen the dividend checks
that came in for him once a month

from his broker, Calvin York.

I thought dividend checks only came in
once or twice a year.

Well, not these.

They were as regular as tick-tock.

And never for less than $2,000 or $3,000.
See how simple?

Here, this should fit.

- Let me take you to a doctor, please.
- No.

Well, then at least let me drive you home.

You just get me to my car,
I can lick the world.

Sure.

But not until tomorrow.

The world is not going to run away,
Mr. Valens.

You still with us, Mr. Valens?

How long did Dr. Ruston stay
on his trips to Baja?

He'd go down every other Wednesday
and come back the next day.

Every other Thursday.

What are you implying now?

When I stopped him on Thursday,
he was scared.

He had something on his conscience.

- Stop that, you hear me?
- Why did he run from me?

Dr. Ruston was an exceptional man.

He never took one peso out of Baja.

And the people worshiped him.

Because they knew that the first
and third Wednesday of every month,

no matter what their miseries,

they could count on seeing
their Dr. Bueno.

Wrong again.

So wrong, I almost want to cry for you.

Thanks.

Mr. Brody, Mr. York will see you now.

Mr. Hal Brody, insurance investigator.

It's a pleasure, Mr. York.

- My, did you have a fall?
- Well, it's really not that bad.

- Well, please make yourself comfortable.
- Thank you.

Now then, what can Irma and I do for you?

- Irma??
- There she is.

Our Instantaneous Relay Market Analyzer.

Irma for short.

You see, even Wall Street
has joined the jet set.

Let a stock drop half a decimal,

and our clients know about it
before it hits the ground.

Well, how can I help you?

- I'm here about Dr. James B. Ruston.
- Oh, yes.

I understand your firm
handled all his stock investments.

- Yes.
- My company is investigating

his insurance claims, so naturally
we're interested in his financial status.

Yes, I imagine it would be.

We would like a breakdown
of all his dealings

over the last couple of years...

his holdings, his bank deposits, his...

his investments, the money he got back,
even his tax returns.

Well, that's quite a tall order.

Now, suppose I'm not prepared to honor it.

Well, Mr. York, I don't want to get tough.
Could turn into a very nasty court case.

Louise, call Hal Brody's office
like the sweet, sexy thing you are,

and ask him

if our Yale Alumni dinner is this week
or next. I can't remember which.

Boola-boola, Sergeant. I recognized you
as soon as you came in.

Why did you let me keep on talking?

I'm satisfied now.
Now please don't bother to come back.

Maybe I'd like to buy some stocks. You can
do for me what you did for Dr. Ruston.

Rags to riches in two short years.

You're shooting in the dark, Sergeant.

Don't you ever learn?

I guess not.

Ready with your call
to Las Vegas, Mr. York.

Well, Prince Valens returns.

- Hey, man, what clunked you?
- Fraternity initiation.

- How are you?
- I'm still tinkering.

- What brings you back to Dead Man's Gulch?
- Miss Willows.

Well, let's save you footsteps.

Sunbonnet Sue and I had a lover's quarrel,
and she's run home to mother.

No, kidding.
I saw her leave early this morning.

Well, if you feel like waiting around,
you can join me poolside.

It's my first day out
since the sun lamp broke.

- Between flights, or did they fire you?
- Oh, they wouldn't dare.

I'm the only one who knows
how to wind up the big rubber band.

Matter of fact, Trans-Coastal's given me
a few days off for good behavior.

I haven't cracked up a ship all month.

Miss Willows.

I'm sorry. I've been to the cemetery.

I visit him every day.

How nice of you. Can we talk?

They were so rude this morning.

I found one of his favorite toys
in the closet.

And of course I wanted it buried with him
along with the rest.

But they said it was too late.

Did you ever hear of anything
so heartless and inhuman?

- Who are we talking about?
- Why, Caesar, of course.

He died Saturday.

Quite peacefully, poor darling.

And after I bought him a lovely plot
in the Eternal Rest Pet Cemetery.

A guaranteed rustproof casket.

They wouldn't even let him sleep happy.

Do you think he'll miss it?

I put in all the rest.

No, I'm sure it'll be all right.

He died of a broken heart.

The vet said it was old age.

But he didn't watch Caesar pining away
after what that bad man did to Dr. Ruston.

Speaking of Dr. Ruston...

I like to think they're together
in eternity now.

- It can happen, you know.
- Yeah.

Miss Willows, you said Dr. Ruston
visited you every Thursday night.

Could you have been wrong? Could it
have been every other Thursday night?

Oh, no. Dr. Ruston enjoyed coming
every Thursday.

When was the last time he visited you?

I just told you, last Thursday.

We had tea together.

Dr. Ruston was buried last Thursday.
He's been dead a week.

Dear, oh, dear.

Where does time go?

I think we lost.

How's that for a chapeau?

Here's the man.

A couple of days ago you said
you wanted to help me.

- Did you mean it?
- Probably not.

I'm fickle. But tell me more.

I think there's a connection between
Miss Willows and Ruston's trips to Baja.

She doesn't know the answer,
so I'll have to go down there.

I'd like to leave tomorrow, Wednesday.
That was his regular visiting day.

Well, have a swinging trip.
Don't land on a cactus.

I can rent a plane, I can't fly it.

That's why I need you
to fly me down there.

Well, in the immortal words
of Nathan Hale, what's in it for me?

- I can't pay you much.
- Baby, you're a ring-a-ding salesman.

I'll think it over.

I only have two days.

I'm thinking.

Hey, Valens.

I'll get us a bird.

I figure with your luck, you're bound
to start World War III as soon as we land.

I'd never forgive myself
if I wasn't there to watch.

I've an appointment to see Mrs. Ruston.
My name is Tom Valens.

Right this way, please.

Come wind, come rain,
the fuzz never rests.

I didn't come here for a rematch.

Gonna tell my mom on me, Valens?
Sorry, but Miss Thayer beat you to it.

- Get lost.
- I want to see her.

She's still in mourning.

Rusty, let Mr. Valens in.

Mr. Valens.

Care for a drink?

No, thanks.

I'd like to talk to you alone.

Run along, dear.

I'm not gonna leave you alone with him!

I'll be perfectly safe,
and so will Mr. Valens.

Sweet Philip.
He's taken his father's death so hard.

I can't imagine why,
they scarcely knew each other.

Come closer, Mr. Valens.

I'm not wearing my contact lenses today.

Sit here.

- Oh, do you hurt?
- Just when I breathe.

I apologize for what happened.

Philip thought he was avenging
the family name.

Of course, you have been giving it
a rather sticky time lately.

My husband keeping a mistress.

Even if he'd had the desire,
I promise you he never had the ability.

- Mrs. Ruston.
- Oh, dear.

I'm not your picture
of a bereaved widow, am I?

You would have preferred
someone draped in black

and weeping softly to organ music.

Frankly, I've got nothing to cry about.

Strange, my admitting that to you,
the man who killed him.

Jim was a blob, a jellyfish.

Oh, aren't I terrible?

But am I any worse than you,
ogling his widow?

You see, Mr. Valens,
you're no more noble than I am.

We're two of a kind.

I came here to talk about your husband.

Oh, yes, down to business.

How much will it cost me
to forget about Philip's little escapade?

- You think I'm here to blackmail you?
- Name your price, Mr. Valens.

Or do I have to lead you by the hand
like every other man I've ever known?

It may come as a hell of a surprise
to you, Mrs. Ruston.

But I can't be bought. And I didn't
come here to ask your forgiveness.

Now I want the answer
to one lousy question, that's all.

Go on.

Two years ago, your husband was broke.

Now you're mourning him in money
and martinis. Where'd he get it?

At least my olive's black.

So is my future.
Now, where'd he get the money?

You're talking to the wrong person.
Jim and I had an unspoken agreement.

I never asked him how he made his money,
he never asked me how I spent it.

The stock market?

Had a little AT&T.

That was what his father left him.

Does the name Calvin York
mean anything to you?

Sounds familiar.

Let me see.

Yes, I think I remember seeing that name

on one of the funeral wreaths.
Does that help you at all?

Not much.

They're going to send you to prison,
aren't they?

Well, they're gonna try,
but I'll be around for a while.

Good, I'm glad.

Who knows, maybe we can arrange
another little visit.

After Philip goes to Yale.

We're two of a kind, Mr. Valens,
remember? Two losers.

And according to an old Chinese proverb,

when you rub two losers together,
sometimes you get surprises.

Sometimes even fire.

I'm a sore loser, Mrs. Ruston.

A sore loser.

I hope you don't think I was serious.
I was only having a little fun.

Yeah, sure.

Looking for somebody?

Yeah, Dr. Ruston's nurse.

She said she'd be here till 5:00.

Sorry, I just came on duty.
You're a patient?

Oh, no, I just got to do her a favor

and pick up a bundle of clothes
for some friends of hers.

Yeah, well, if she comes back again,
tell her to call me. My name is Valens.

- Hello.
- It's Baron von Cody.

Just wanted to tell you I commandeered
the original 1918 Spad

that Rickenbacker used.

It's a single-seater,
so you may have to ride the wing.

I'll wear my long underwear.

Good idea. I'll see you
at the Santa Monica airport

at 8:00 in the morning, okay?

Okay. Walt...

Thanks.

Just spell my name right
on the insurance policy, will you?

I'll see you at 8:00.

- Hello, Ed.
- Hold it.

- Are you kidding? What's the gun for?
- Don't take another step. That's an order.

- What are you talking about?
- Face the wall.

- What do you mean?
- I said, face the wall.

What's the matter with you?

What's the matter with you?

All right, you can turn around.

All right. What's it all about?

- You're under arrest, Tom.
- For what?

The big one, murder.

The murder of Liz Thayer.

Oh, no.

Oh no.

How? When?

The custodian found her
in Ruston's office.

The place had been torn apart.

Her body was stuffed in a closet.

She'd been choked, and badly beaten.

She was last seen in the office at 4:30.

You were seen leaving that office
around 5:00.

I went there, the door was locked,
I couldn't get in.

The custodian said he saw you
with your hand on the knob

like you just closed the door.

Tom, we found your fingerprints
all over the treatment room.

You said that Ruston's office
was torn apart.

I was being polite.
It looked like a tornado hit it.

All the drawers were dumped
on the floor, furniture smashed.

Even the Mexican knick-knacks
hanging on the wall were smashed.

Like some maniac was trying to break
everything he could lay his hands on.

Somebody's looking for something,
and they can't find it.

- Who is?
- I don't know. Somebody.

Somebody's involved in this
besides Ruston.

Sure. You are.

The boys downtown figure you've been
pushing that Ruston gun story

for so long, you flipped.

- The gun.
- And you tore that place apart yourself.

- The gun must be the answer to everything.
- What are you talking about?

Give me a few more hours, Ed,
just a few more hours.

- Swell. Come on, let's go downtown.
- No, you book me now, I'm finished.

Pretend you didn't see me.
Just give me a few more hours.

Tom, are you crazy?
There's an APB out on you.

You couldn't drive your car more
than one block before they'd pick you up.

Now, come on, let's go. Come on.

- Now, listen, now wait a minute.
- No. See here.

- Don't make it worse than it is already.
- I can't help it. Now, you turn around.

- You really have flipped, haven't you?
- Turn around.

Put your hands behind your back.

Over there.

- Just a few more hours, Ed.
- Go to hell.

- Yep?
- Walt, this is Tom Valens.

- Did I wake you?
- No, but our date's for 8:00.

If you're thinking of flying
to Baja tonight, get yourself another boy.

The Baja trip is off.

What I been looking for is right here.
It's been here all the time.

Well, that's great.
Need any help finding it?

I thought you'd never ask.

Buddy, bring your muscles,
we're gonna open a grave.

A police car yet.
Next thing you're gonna tell me it's hot.

No, it belongs to a friend of mine.

Here it is.

You sure you want to go through with this?

Here, hold this.

I'll dig first.

Thanks. I prefer a running start
in case anything goes, "Boo!"

Hey, Valens?

As one body snatcher to another,

what made you decide to go this route
instead of by way of Baja?

Dr. Ruston's money.

I couldn't figure out how he got it.
The more I thought about it,

the more I was sure it had something to do
with his behavior the night I stopped him.

I didn't make the connection
until tonight when I found out

his office had been torn apart.

Hey, I think I hit something.

- You got it?
- Yeah.

Boy, grave robbing.

If it wasn't for the high pay
and the beautiful surroundings,

I'd have to consider giving it up.

Got it.

- What do we do with him now?
- Nothing.

Nothing?

Valens, if you're looking to cop
an insanity plea, you just qualified.

- Now there's what I'm looking for.
- What, a kid's toy gun?

That's the same mistake Caesar made
when he found it in the bushes.

It had Ruston's scent on it.

Ruston was his pal,
Ruston brought him toys.

So he took it home.

This is the gun I've been looking for
since the night I shot him.

What, that piece of junk
got Ruston killed?

Yeah, junk, Walt.

Pure, unadulterated heroin.

You cut it half a dozen times,
it should be worth $50,000, $60,000.

- Ruston was running a dope ring.
- Yeah, but not all by himself.

He was contacted by Calvin York
when he fell behind on his gambling debts.

They knew about his mercy flights to Baja.

- So he became the messenger boy.
- Let's put it back.

Fifty thousand bucks a trip.
Not bad for a house call.

Well, it worked
because of his unique position.

He'd made so many trips to Baja

I don't think the customs people
even bothered to stop him anymore.

See, he'd pick up the...

heroin in Baja on Wednesday.

There you go.

And deliver it to his local contact
at Seascape on Thursday.

Come on, Valens.
If you're trying to tell me

that little old Miss Willows
is pushing heroin...

She was the cover.

Ruston put her at Seascape
so he'd have a reason for going there.

When he finished visiting with her,
he was free to reach his contact man.

Well, if the contact lives at Seascape
like you say,

how come Ruston had the narcotics
on him when he got killed?

The contact man wasn't home that night.

So Ruston left with the heroin
still in his pocket?

When I stopped him, his one thought
was to get rid of the evidence.

If he hadn't panicked, he'd gotten
an apology. Instead, he got a bullet.

Well, man, you did it. Following the gun
really wraps up the case for you, huh?

There's still the contact man, Walt.

Yeah. That's gonna be tough.

Maybe he does live at Seascape,
but so do a hundred other people.

The guy I want wasn't home that night.

His plane was delayed because of fog.

What, me? Oh, you got to be kidding!

Who'd make a better delivery boy, Walt?
An unmarried, unattached pilot

making regular visits to every major city
on the Pacific coast?

Come on, dad, enough's enough already.

Yeah, enough's enough, Walt.

You tried to kill me.
You killed the nurse, enough is enough.

I just want
the satisfaction of taking you in.

You're not bringing anybody anywhere.

From where I stand, old buddy,
you're up the creek.

In case you're thinking of getting away,
somebody ought to tell you

that's no paddle in your hand,
it's just an old toy gun.

It's a real gun, Walt.

Oh? Then be my guest.
Take the first shot.

It's a real gun, Walt.

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Now, will the real Tom Valens
please drop dead?

This is Unit Four-K-Two.

Request an ambulance and assistance.

Four-K-Two, what is your location?

Eternal Rest Pet Cemetery,
120th and Gardena.

Four-K-Two, roger. All units
in the vicinity, officer needs help.

Eternal Rest Pet Cemetery,
120th and Gardena.

Officer needs help.

All units in the vicinity,
officer needs help.

Eternal Rest Pet Cemetery,
120th and Gardena...