All language subtitles for The Untouchables - S04E11 (The Floyd Gibbons Story)_000

(theme music playing)

WALTER WINCHELL:
In 1932, Chicago,

like the rest of the country,
was hiding its nightlife

at the bottom
of basement stairs

and behind locked doors.

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

the Deadline, was catering
to its particular clientele,

the members of
the working press.

Do you want to take part of it?

Part of what?

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

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

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

That's what I always say.

A glimmer of sanity in a planet

rushing to put on
a straitjacket.

Anybody ever tell you
you talk funny?

Almost everybody.

They're right.

And while we're
talking about you,

where have you been
hiding out lately?

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

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

Somebody's gonna
throw the election?

And I thought I was
the only one who knew.

No kidding.

What have you got?

I'll let you know
at the banquet.

What banquet?

When they hand me
the Pulitzer Prize.

Where you going?

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

At this time of night?

Well, it's too hot to sleep.

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

Thanks a heck of a lot.

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

(tires screeching)

(gunfire)

Carl!

Carl!

ANNOUNCER:

"The Floyd Gibbons Story."

Starring Robert Stack
as Eliot Ness.

Co-starring Stu Erwin

and Joseph Campanella,

with special guest star
Dorothy Malone,

and presenting Scott Brady
as Floyd Gibbons.

Narrated by Walter Winchell.

(siren wailing)

WINCHELL: Ten minutes after
the shooting of reporter

Carleton Edmunds, a phone call
from police headquarters

brought Eliot Ness
to the scene of the killing.

They can take their time
on the way back.

Remembered the plates
on the one car.

Maybe the police can trace it.

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

Yeah, scrap metal.

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

on the junkyard takeovers.

I told him to stay out of it.

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

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

What do you mean?

I mean, it seems strange
that in a gunfight,

the only one
who's killed is a man

30 feet outside
the line of fire.

Eliot, take a look at this.

What's that?

Cotton, Barney.

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

How'd you like the play, Barney?

I lost you, Mr. Ness.

You just saw a very
well-rehearsed little scene

played for your benefit.

This is batting, Barney,
cotton batting.

They use it in blank cartridges.

You mean, those guys
were shooting blanks?

All but one.

I guess they wanted
Edmunds' death

to look accidental.

That said, he must have
been close to something.

Could be connected with
the scrap metal business.

He said he had something big.

Probably was.

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

Mrs. Edmunds.

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

Then go to the funeral.

I think you should know

we think it's a case of
suspected homicide.

What's the difference?

He's dead.

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

WINCHELL: That same night,
a cross-country flight

landed in Chicago.

Among its passengers
was the famous

globetrotting reporter,
Floyd Gibbons.

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

Gibbons barreled his way
to every news front,

covering the story,

and many times,
making the news himself.

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

Report to Reservations.

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

Long distance telephone call
for Mr. Floyd Gibbons.

Thank you.

I'm Floyd Gibbons.

Yes, sir.
First phone on the right.

Thank you.

Hello.

Yeah.

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

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

Okay, go ahead, talk.

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

So what?

What? Are you out of your mind?

Certainly not.

Look, if you want
a Garbo interview,

get one of your pampered sobs
to do it.

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

Mister, you busy right now?

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

Do me a favor, will you?

Grab me one of those
late papers.

Here you go.

Now, look, Max, hello?

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

and I got a lot
of calls to make.

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

but I deal in hard news,
not gossip.

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

Something just came up.

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

that's gonna save you money.
This.

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

Here's something
much better, Mister.

But this is a ticket
to California.

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

Very pretty out there.

They got movie stars
and everything.

WINCHELL: Ten minutes after
Floyd Gibbons landed

in Chicago,
Vince "The Enforcer" Dastille

arrived at a midtown
office building

for a meeting
of the crime syndicate.

The meeting was held
in the offices

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

What this company imported
was money.

What it exported
was scrap metal.

You're late, Vince.

What did I miss,
the Pledge of Allegiance?

Nobody's laughing, Vince.

Okay, Brecker, get on with it.

Sit down.

Today, the last of
the major independent yards

fell into line.

But we still can't
meet the demand,

so I asked you gentlemen here.

We can't cut anybody else in.

The dough's coming in
too slow right now.

Slow and sure.

Right now,
this town looks so clean,

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

just for something to do.

We're not knocking over
a bank, Vince.

We're setting up an empire.

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

that are out of our line.

Maybe they're just
out of your line.

What I know is running booze,

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

You got the bankrolls
to prove it.

You probably don't read
the papers, Vince,

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

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

Then, if you want to run booze,

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

Meanwhile, you're guessing.

Meanwhile, we'll play it my way.

Until you can show me
I guessed wrong.

Yeah, what is it, Monk?

You know that reporter,
Carl Edmunds?

Just got word
he got knocked off.

All right, thanks, Monk.

You want to tell us
about it, Vince?

I been telling you for weeks.

He was onto us, the whole thing.

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

The muscle age is over, Vince.

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

What are you building to,
Brecker?

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

that doesn't fit right.

And a shoulder holster
makes a coat fit pretty bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

and I can resume
my regular broadcast right away.

I can go to Berlin
direct from Manchuria.

The world is round, remember?

Now, Georgie, Georgie, please.

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

Come on in, sit down.

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

so go back to sleep.

You know it's still raining
in London?

Anything I can do for you,
Mr. Gibbons?

Fix you a cup of coffee
or something?

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

But of course you should.

I interviewed you
in New York last year.

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

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

Well, that was it.

I find you learn a lot more

if the interviews
aren't labeled as such.

You stopped in Chicago
to apologize, huh?

Apologize?

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

What are you doing
in Chicago, Gibbons?

Your paper's been bragging
for three weeks

you're gonna cover the war
in Manchuria.

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

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

The enemy doesn't wear uniforms.

Mr. Ness, Carleton Edmunds
happened to be

a very good friend of mine,

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

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

should be hunted down
and stepped on, hard.

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

to do something about it.

I already am.

I could be a lot of help.

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

Why wait?

Everything's being done
that can be done.

There's a trace
on one of the cars.

The scene of the shooting's
being checked,

ballistics, everything.

You mean you're working on it

from the point of view
of a dead man.

With a killing,
that's usually the way.

Maybe somebody should look at it

from the point of view
of the live Carl Edmunds.

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

a pretty good place
to start a story.

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

There's a case
of suspected homicide.

Now, when we solve the case
of suspected homicide,

then you'll have your story.

You mean, mind my own business.

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

Maybe I'll see you
again sometime.

Thanks for the use
of the office.

There's a guy
with a lot of nerve.

May just end up
on his headstone.

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

No, he'll do just as he pleases.

Maybe he'll have more trouble
than he expects,

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

It never has.

WINCHELL: The bar
at the Deadline speakeasy

was decorated with some of
the most famous headlines:

the exploits of Pancho Villa,
World War One,

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

On his arrival in Chicago,
the man who had reported

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

was at a table
in the Deadline speakeasy.

That's all I remember, Floyd.

I'm sorry.

It happened so fast
that the only thing I noticed

were my knees shaking.

You're a newspaper man, Barney.

You report what you see.

Nobody can expect
more than that.

But I need a lot more
from somebody.

It's a shame about Carl, Barney.

Real rotten shame.

Yeah.

Floyd, not since Paris, right?

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

But then, you were
too drunk to remember.

Well, Europe did that to me.

If there's anything
we can do for you

at the Trib, Barney,
let me know.

You, too, Floyd.

Thanks, Charlie.

Oh, Charlie.

It wasn't Biarritz,
it was Johannesburg.

How do you remember
where you are, anyway?

I ask a policeman.

You got a favorite town?

Uh-huh, Chicago.

You're kidding. Why?

'Cause that's where I am now.

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

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

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

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

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

we had a seven-hour
drinking contest.

I lost, hands down.

But I thought Kitty would
knock that out of him.

Oh, there's a real sweetheart.

That's what I mean, Barney.

I want to get inside of Carl.

Everything you can think of.

What he was doing,
who did he know.

What about Kitty?

The scrap metal story.

Who did he love,
who did he hate?

Who hated him?

Matches Barney Rich's
description, all right.

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

Yeah, but it doesn't
prove murder.

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

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

If you want it.

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

Unless the other car
followed him out here.

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

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

Let's check
the cabbies out, anyway.

You know how many
there are in Chicago?

(doorbell buzzes)

(doorbell buzzes)

Floyd!

Hello, Kitty.

Well, how about
fixing me a drink?

What are you doing in Chicago?

I'm going to a friend's funeral.

Or haven't you heard?

You're wrong, Floyd.

Am I? About what?

About me.

About Carl and me.

You were always wrong.

I heard you were
getting a divorce.

It wasn't my idea.

He changed a lot
in that last couple of years.

How about you, Kitty?

Did you change?

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

We could've been good friends.

We should've been.

But you always acted like
I was some disease

that Carl had come down with.

No, Kitty, I liked you.

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

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

I loved him, Floyd.

I loved him as long as I could.

But it's hard to go on
loving somebody

who stopped loving back.

I could compete
with a typewriter,

maybe even with another woman,

but not with a different bottle
every night.

That doesn't leave much.

In fact, it doesn't
leave anything.

Yes, I guess you did love him.

Still a skeptic, huh?

About some things.

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

Don't you?

No.

Then go find out who killed him.

Maybe I will.

(sighs)

What do you plan to do now?

Maybe I'll get a job somewhere.

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

I don't know much more.

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

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

Now, why would you
want to take me out?

Well, you have any other plans?

I... I need about 45 minutes.

-I have to change.
-Fine.

Meanwhile, I can
get reacquainted

with that little park
down the corner.

I appreciate this, Floyd.

You accept, I'll appreciate.

(chuckles)

45 minutes.

"We could've been good friends."”

What's that supposed to mean?

Who is he, anyhow?

Floyd Gibbons.

The news guy?

What's he got to do with you?

He's just an old friend.

Friend?

Please, Vince, don't worry.

He can't stand the sight of me.

Then why'd he ask you
out tonight?

I don't really know.

You're not going.

You don't order me around
like that.

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

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

Do you want to have him
killed, too?

You're beginning
to sound like Brecker,

and one of them is enough.

Did you have Carl killed?

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

Oh, you're disgusting.

Who was it tipped me off
what he was writing?

That's a long way from murder.

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

Let go of me.

You don't mean that.

Let me go.

Oh, you don't mean that, either.

Go away.

Get ready.

Don't want to keep
your friend waiting.

Looks like a dead end.

No prints, no nothing.

Still no sign of the second car.

Yeah, that'd be clean, too.

Oh, here comes your boy.

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

Anything interesting?

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

I guess that's how Edmunds
got onto the story

in the first place.

Maybe.

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

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

Can't it wait till tomorrow?

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

Let's hit them
while they're fresh.

All right, put it back together.

-Bang! Bang!
-Bang! Bang!

Come on, I got you!

You missed me!

No, I didn't! I got you!

You missed me! Bang! Bang!

I got you that time!

I don't want to play anymore.

Hey, mister, like some pop?

Okay.

It's a good flavor.

Here you are.
Divvy up the change.

Gee, thanks!

What are you guys
fighting about anyway?

He's not playing fair.

Well, what are you playing?

G-man.

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

Yeah, and he's not playing fair.

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

Tell me something,
which would you rather be now:

the G-man or Bugs Moran?

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

What's your dad do, son?

He looks for jobs.

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

Oh, so I can see better.

You're kidding.

No, I'm not.

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

but I only need
one eye for that.

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

and see what nobody else
can see.

I don't get it.

That's all right, son.

It even too me a few years
to appreciate it.

Hey, mister, what time is it?

Oh, about 10:30.

Ten-thirty?

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

Yeah, me, too. So long!

So long, mister.

So long, kids.

(thudding, groaning)

That was just a preview,
Gibbons.

If you didn't like it,

there are trains
leaving Chicago every hour.

Bang, bang.

ANNOUNCER: And now, back to
The Untouchables.

(slow piano melody)

Remember?

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

Hey, you know, Robert,

I think it's
a downright insult to Europe

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

Why, thank you, Mr. Gibbons.

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

you'd never believe me.

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

Oh, there isn't really
much to tell.

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

What sets my rattled brain
to wondering

is how they knew
where to welcome me.

Hmm.

Tell me something, Floyd,

did you mean what you said
earlier about liking me?

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

Kitty, I can only remember
twice in my life

when I didn't mean what I said.

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

that I liked the knickers
she gave me for Christmas.

The other time was
at Chateau-Thierry

when a marine captain
asked me if I was scared.

I told him I wasn't.

Yes, I meant what I said, Kitty.

(chuckles)

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

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

I might.

Sounds interesting.

You mean that?

You want me to go through
my little speech again?

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

Well, I wasn't finding it
exactly revolting.

Hey, Kitty, how are you?

Oh, Jimmy! Hello.

Sorry about your old man.

Thanks.

Hey, I ran into Vince
this afternoon.

He says you might be
coming back to the club.

Oh, you know Vince.

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

Good night, friend.

Huh?

Good night.

Good night, Jimmy.

Oh, yeah. Good night.

Come on, baby!

Was he talking about,
uh, Vince Dastille?

Yeah, I-l guess so.

Why?

Oh, nothing. I just remembered

that you used to sing
in his nightclub

before you and Carl got married.

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

He wants to give me
my old job back.

Oh, that was nice of him.

Let's forget about him.

You and I were just beginning
to get some place.

Yes, at a full gallop, too.

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

I've got an appointment
in about 20 minutes.

Oh, where?

I don't know yet.

I have to set it up.

VINCE: Sorry to keep
you waiting, Willie,

but we had another stop.

That's all right, Vince.

How'd it go, Willie?

Oh, just like clockwork.

You ditched the car?

Sure.

Good?

Well, you know me.

(chuckling)
Yeah.

They fished it out of the lake
an hour ago.

Get in.

Yeah, well, I set it up

to look just like an accident.

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

A guy named Gibbons
has it figured already,

and he ain't even a cop.

You blew it, Willie.

Get in.

(gunshot)

Drop me off at the club
and dump him.

(whistling)

(knocking)

Come in.

Hello, Barney.

Well, what is this?

The presidential suite?

Ah, a bed's a bed.

Must be 30 a day
to use the elevator.

How did you manage it
with a series and all?

Oh, the desk clerk
was impressed with me.

Thought I was Wally Post.

Very funny.

Not funny at all.

Go downstairs
and see how I registered.

Barney, tell me
everything you know

about a guy named
Vince Dastille.

Well, the independent
scrap dealers

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

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

Anyhow, he's doing the buying.

He's not a nice fella.

Yeah, who's he selling to?

Nobody seems to know.

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

They tried to trace
a load of it once,

and they found it
on a dock in Frisco

addressed to a foreign company.

Turned out to be a phony.

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

The foreign angle.

Yeah, that's what Carl
always wanted,

a foreign assignment.

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

Dreams and all.

He was a big fan of yours.

He used to keep a clipping file
on everything

that you were writing
from Europe,

all this stuff about this Hitler
and everything.

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

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

Interested?
The way he went on about it.

You'd have thought
he invented it.

Hey, where are you going?

It's almost 1:30.

Barney, tell me, is it
considered underworld etiquette

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

VINCE:
Yeah?

Guy out here says he has
an appointment with you.

I got no appointments.

My name is Floyd Gibbons.

What do you want?

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

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

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

Why not interview a real,
live gangster.

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

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

but actually, I'm quite humble.

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

Say, didn't I see
your friends here

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

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

What would you know
about scrap metal?

Look, Gibbons...

You're gonna tell me

about the trains leaving town
every hour.

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

Well, I can't go
without a story.

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

get involved in world trade?

That's enough.

You are smart, Gibbons.

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

and it's a big drop
to the ground.

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

Now I'll make another.

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

and there won't be
unless you want to cover

the funeral of a nosy,
one-eyed reporter.

Am I making myself clear?

Very clear.

And I think I'll take
your advice.

I said you were smart.

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

and say good-bye to Kitty first,

do you?

She's a good kid, huh?

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

What about Brecker?

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

Let Brecker play
with his blackboard.

You go after Gibbons.

Federal agents.

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

I just got off an 18-hour day.

Yeah, but what's the long one?

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

Yeah.

Yeah, around 9:00.

Could you give us a description?

It's took dark to see much.

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

Maybe.

Where'd you drop him?

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

Don't you keep a log?

Just distances, not addresses.

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

It isn't.

Take a trip downtown
to police headquarters.

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

You're not gonna touch him.

VINCE:
Touch who?

Charlie?

You got yourself
a prize pupil there, Brecker.

He'll do.

Meanwhile,
you leave Gibbons to me.

He's got everything Edmonds had,
maybe more.

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

Just knocking him off
would bring every reporter

and ever fed in the country
swarming into town.

Gibbons is a public figure,

not just some nosy hack.

You got a better idea?

My idea is to keep you
from bungling it,

like you did with Edmonds.

How did he find out?

What's the difference?

Maybe he guess,
maybe Kitty tipped him,

-I don't know.
Kitty?

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

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

What are you scared of, Vince?

Gibbons writing his story
or stealing your dame?

I'll tell you something,
Brecker.

I'm up to here
with your smart cracks.

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

who are too dumb to take orders.

Riding a line, huh, Brecker?

Well, maybe being
a little trigger-happy is better

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

Maybe it's better
than being gutless.

You're a dinosaur, Vince.

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

You better get back
to your blackboard, mister.

After I take care of Gibbons,

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

'Cause I'm sick
of listening to you,

sick of seeing you sitting
in your big chair,

looking at me like you
were smelling something bad.

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

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

and your big office building.

Well, none of that
means a thing.

You're soft, Brecker.

And the organization's
getting soft

with you.

Boys?

Well, what would you suggest?

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

from strength.

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

And you do?

That's right.

Now get out of here.

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

Sure, Vince, sure.

Actually, your way does have

a certain beautiful simplicity.

Strength, he said.

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

Yeah, I'm sure.

You think I want to see
some innocent guy

get strung up for something?

Willie Drummer,
one of Dastille's gorillas.

That ties it up pretty good.

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

That might put Mrs. Edmonds
right in the middle.

-It might.
-What do we do?

Wait until they pick up Drummer?

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

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

We have to talk, Kitty,
right now.

Can't it wait?
I was asleep.

No, it can't wait.

It must be serious.

Might need a drink, huh?

No drink, Kitty; sit down.

Have I been a bad girl
or something?

Something.

I think I liked you better
a few hours ago.

I liked myself better.

What does that mean?

That means that I just walked
into a sucker play

that any 16-year-old
cub reporter

would have smelled a mile away.

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

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

A genuine 14-karat phony.

How does it feel, Kitty, huh?

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

Because you killed him
just as sure

and just as dead
as if you pulled the trigger.

Yeah, you killed him all right.

You and Vince Dastille.

-Oh, stop it.
-You know something?

My readers will be curious.

Exactly what were your feelings

when they first showed you
his body, huh?

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

Oh, come on, now.

Now's no time to be shy.

Let's have it; speak up.

I had nothing to do with this.

-It was an accident.
-The only accident that

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

and that one proved to be fatal.

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

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

Didn't you?

Then when Carl started
getting close,

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

Vince and his boys
took care of the rest.

Isn't that how it happened?

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

Tell me.

Oh, Floyd, leave me alone.

Tell me where I'm wrong.

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

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

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

What a shame it didn't work out.

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

And I know why, too,
'cause you knew

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

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

You didn't think at all,
did you?

You know, I met Vince Dastille

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

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

I just don't get it.

Why Dastille, anyway?

You had the best.

I don't expect you
to understand.

It's...

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

long before I ever met Carl.

It wasn't an easy thing
to break off.

(sighs)

Oh, I don't know.

I guess he just...

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

Yeah.

And Carl treated you
like a lady.

It was his one big mistake.

Listen, Floyd,
I meant it tonight

when I said I was glad
you were here.

I always thought that you and I

-could be something
pretty wonderful. -Kitty.

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

or call the police,
or anything you like.

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

Kitty, don't.

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

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

(sighs)

Oh, never mind.

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

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

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

Ness, Vince, and now you.

Now, what is it, my personality?

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

He's an animal, a wild animal.

Oh, I suppose you had it right.

I must have known
he'd have Carl killed.

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

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

-(phone rings)
-You better answer it.

Might be your boyfriend.

(exhales)

Hello?

It's for you.

Hello?

Mr. Gibbons, you don't know me,

but my boss has
a big story for you.

It's about Vince Dastille.

What about him?

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

he wants you
to come to his office.

I'm waiting downstairs
for you now.

And suppose I don't accept
the invitation.

It ain't no invitation.

Look out the window.

You know, moonlight
sure does something for you.

In case you want to get cute,

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

You better get down here.

Who's Brecker?

Vince's boss.

He wants me to come and see him.

Oh, that might be a trap.

Yeah, I suppose it is.

But, then, I'm already in it.

You... you could
call the police.

Why? Somebody do something
bad?

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

Just too bad you
couldn't have done the same

for a friend of mine.

(engine starts)

Vince Dastille?

Yeah, I know him.

Is that all?

I know him.

What's he done?

He engineered
your husband's murder.

You don't seem surprised,
Mrs. Edmonds.

Nothing surprises me anymore.

That's too bad.

Oh, save your pity, Mr. Ness.

I've got enough for both of us.

We also believe you
were personally involved in it.

Vince tell you that?

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

How?

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

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

Who did it?

I don't know.

You don't much care, do you?

What do you want from me?

Just one decent reaction,
just some sign

you can experience
a human emotion.

I am tired, Mr. Ness.

Is that human enough?

Who did it?

Brecker.

Vince used to work for him.

You might say
they didn't get along.

Scrap metal takeover,
that was Brecker's operation?

Go ask him.

He's at his office now.

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

What is?

Oh, the whole thing.

I mean, everything.

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

Tell me, Mr. Ness,

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

One long... terrible night.

The only three men in the world.

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

it's kind of funny.

It really is.

(laughs)

Carl's one, Dastille's two.

Who's three?

Floyd Gibbons.

He's with Brecker now.

You better come inside,
Mrs. Edmonds.

(sobs)

You said you had information.

That's right, I did.

Well, am I supposed
to guess, or what?

The information is that

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

Dastille?

It was very sudden.

Yeah.

I'll bet it was.

But it's still
in our best interest

that you don't write that story.

I see.

I'll bet you do.

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

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

Maybe I can fill in
a few holes for you.

All right. Why not?

You see, once upon a time

there were these
gangsters in Chicago,

and one way or another,
they managed to get hold

of all the scrap metal
in Cook County.

Now, do you know
why they did that?

Because halfway
around the world,

there were even bigger gangsters
in another country,

and these gangsters
were making weapons

so they could take over
a whole continent.

And if that weren't good enough,

they found another country
full of gangsters,

and these gangsters
were planning

to make war on their neighbors.

Well, these wicked gangsters
in Chicago very cleverly

sold their scrap metal
through the local consulates.

And so, children,

the gangsters in Chicago
got very, very rich,

and mankind died
miserably ever after.

That's a good story, Gibbons.

No holes.

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

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

You were on your way
to Manchuria.

It's too bad you stopped over.

Is that some kind of a threat?

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

in most cases.

It's just that
this story of yours

would bring us
the wrong kind of publicity.

Mm-hmm, and maybe
a few policemen.

What we're doing
is legal, Gibbons.

Oh, sure, till
the public finds out

and congress passes
a law against it.

There's gonna be a war, Brecker,

and you just picked
the wrong side.

I don't pick sides,
I sell merchandise.

Gibbons, I don't
want to kill you,

so I'll make you a proposition.

You forget all about
that fairy tale of yours,

catch the next plane
to California,

and you take...

$50,000 with you.

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

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

In thousand dollar bills.

I'll wait if
you want to count it.

Let's level, Brecker.

What are my chances of making it
out of the building

if I turn it down?

Very slim.

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

"Take the money and run.”

He was right.

Good night, Mr. Brecker.

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

Oh, and, uh...

good night to you...
gentlemen.

That was pretty easy,
Mr. Brecker.

Too easy.

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

Get him before
he hits the street.

We can beat it to the bottom.

(door opening)

(tires squealing)

Ness!

(gunshots)

Hold it!

Solly?

Solly?

Monk!

Solly!

♪♪

(elevator arriving)

Eliot's coming up the stairs.

Brecker's on his way down.

Up here, Brecker!

(gunshots)

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

You gonna be in town long,
Mr. Gibbons?

No, just long enough
to file a story,

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

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

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

WINCHELL: The Organization's
link with foreign munitions

was revealed the next day
in a copyrighted news story

under the byline
of Carleton Edmonds.

But by the time the papers

hit the streets,
Floyd Gibbons was on his way

to Manchuria.

He was to say later
that he left Chicago

because he had a hunch

the Cubs would lose
the World Series

in four straight,
which they did.