Original subtitles

Park it on the street only TV has a drive on. You can't ask this lady to

that far.

She's pregnant.

I am not.

I hope not.

Park it on the street, okay?

Hey, Sandy.

Mal, what are you doing here?

I didn't think the Boston papers were running the Cardell kidnapping anymore.

No, not on the front page like you Westerners, but we do try to keep up.

Not much of a turnout at that.

By the way, where's Mr.

Eleven O 'Clock News and the other blow -dry kids?

Hanging the rest of us up, as usual.

Morning.

I'm sorry the TV people aren't here, but I'm aware of your deadlines, so we'll

start without them.

Mrs. Cardell would like to make a brief statement.

As you know, she hasn't been feeling very well and would appreciate it if you

kept your questions brief.

And not too many, please.

Mrs. Cardell?

Gentlemen, ma 'am.

The FBI has determined that the latest ransom note is another hoax.

That makes 25 false ransom notes received since my husband vanished last

And today...

Through the media.

I would like to appeal to those who seem to delight in creating another...

Please, dear Lord, let us be... Excuse

us.

Sorry we're late. We had to go back for a piece of equipment.

Your hair dryer?

You know who you are. The writers of all those false ransom notes.

They're stripping us of our hope.

Please, join the rest of us.

Pray for Luther's safe return instead.

And also, I'm asking the person or persons who do have Luther.

Substantiate that fact.

The ransom will be quickly and gladly paid, I beg you.

I thank you.

Mrs. Cardell will now take a few questions. Mrs. Cardell?

The FBI and police are frustrated. They admit they have no clues.

Can you tell us why you're still certain your husband was kidnapped?

Because if he wasn't kidnapped, there's only one other reason for his silence

and his disappearance.

I refuse to accept that reason.

I will not believe that he's dead.

Are there any more questions?

Yes, the man with the hairdo.

Miss Cardell, is it true you're having a nervous breakdown?

This is Ron Allen.

Behind me is the mansion of Luther Cardell.

Once... A palace of power, privacy, and privilege, it has since its

disappearance become a sanctuary of sadness, solitude, and secrecy. Today,

wife of the missing agricultural tycoon issued a proud, yet pathetic plea to be

left alone after a month of suffering through her husband's disappearance.

Go to number two, Ron.

I then ask, Mrs. Gardell, the police and FBI are frustrated.

They admit they have no leads. Can you tell us why you're still certain your

husband was kidnapped?

That was my question.

That was my question.

That was my question.

Yeah,

Mr. Grant, this is Tim in the lobby.

The man here wants to see you.

Name's Jack Riley.

Of the Chicago Dispatch?

Formerly. Formerly. Said you were expecting him.

No, I'm not expecting him. I'm never expecting him.

Send the old fake up.

Jack Riley.

Used to be a hell of a rewrite man.

One night years ago in Detroit, I was passing a restaurant when the Cheney

brothers decided to eliminate some of the opposition.

There were bodies everywhere.

It was wonderful.

I thought the whole thing. Phoned it in ten minutes before deadline, babbling

hysterically. Jack was working rewrite. When he got through with it, it read

like Raymond Chandler.

Oh, the good old days.

Yeah. I'm glad I missed them.

Lou? Huh? I just left Mrs. Cardell. Yeah? She gave a pretty emotional

I can milk three, four books out of it if you think we need it. What's her

Two. Then give me two.

Anyway, this guy Riley's a... Lou Grant!

Jack Riley!

Goodness, dear.

Oh, it's been too long. Too damn long. Been longer than that.

Hey, Art Donovan, I want you to meet Jack Riley. He's an even faster two

-fingered typist than you are. That's before the good Lord opened a calcium

in my hands. Nice to see you, Art. Don't shake it too hard. Oh, we don't have to

shake? Oh, I want to shake. Just don't shake it too hard.

How's that?

Too hard.

Hasn't slowed me down a bit, though, Lou. I still get in as much trouble as

ever. I'll bet you do. I'll bet you do.

I was just telling Art here about the Cheney brothers shooting back at 51.

That was some night, wasn't it, Lou?

We were on the streets before the echoes died down.

What's the matter with you? Don't you eat anymore?

What? Well, you're just skin and bones, man.

How about letting a little friend buy you lunch?

Come on, Jack. Don't you mean I'll buy you lunch?

Well, since you asked.

See you, Art.

Sit here for me.

What's wrong?

Gee, Lou, I got something really important to do.

Oh?

Composing room, blonde, 5 '7". I really hate to disappoint her.

But she's a very impressionable age.

She's 26.

Don't tell me about those things. I don't want to hear about it.

It's just lunch, Lou. No, no, it's not just lunch. An hour is just lunch. Two

hours is lunch and dessert.

No, three hours is lunch and dessert.

Mike, sit here for me.

Your own city room, Lou.

Fantastic.

And remember the time Duggan wanted to fire us for throwing the football around

the city room?

That was the greatest Michigan -Ohio State game I ever saw.

What ever happened to old Duggan? He died at his desk, just like the hell his

money was. They buried him in his bottom drawer.

Ready to order?

Yeah, I'll have the T -bone steak, 16 -ounce, medium rare, no fat.

Sour cream and whole the chives on the baked potato. Soup or salad?

Salad, green goddess dressing.

And you, sir?

Cheeseburger. And another beer.

Do you have a wine list?

Oh, certainly. I'd like it.

Wine list, Jack?

Celebration. Yeah, well, it's also noon on Thursday, beer and cheeseburger time.

I'm talking about a celebration.

What would shaking hands with Luther Cardell be worth here?

What?

How would you like an exclusive interview with Cardell?

That wine list went to your head. This is legit, Lou. Mm -hmm.

Just like the time you tried to sell me those pictures of Martin Borman.

Well, it looked like him, didn't it? How would you be able to contact Luther

Cardell? I didn't contact him. He contacted me.

Said he wanted to talk to somebody. I recommended you. It's that simple.

If you're a hustler of me for lunch, you don't have to get this elaborate kit.

Lou, I really know the man.

I met him during the Guatemalan earthquake. I was with the Phoenix

PR agency that worked for his corporation from time to time.

You're on the brink of a big story, Lou. Don't walk away from it.

If I put a plate full of rubies in front of you, would you push them away?

Rubies always give me indigestion.

He just called you up, huh? Right. No, first I got a call from a man named

who said Cardell wanted to talk to me.

And to be at a certain phone booth in an hour. Yeah, I saw that same movie.

Yeah, that was my reaction, too. But I went, and you would, too.

Maybe.

The phone call came right in on a button that was the old man.

So where is he?

Well, I'll tell you this much.

The call was long distance. A good piece of long distance.

Long distance from where?

Lou, don't ask yet, okay?

I'm not at liberty to say.

Are you at liberty to pay for that T -bone you ordered?

I thought you'd be tickled pink, fall over at the shot.

If you don't want it, I'll tell them you're not interested.

Well, now, wait a minute.

The thing is, I don't know if we'd be interested or not.

Tell me something.

What's in this for you?

There's nothing in it for me. I'm just the go -between. It's just that I'd

rather you were in on it with me than anyone else.

Okay.

I'll let you know this afternoon after the three o 'clock budget meeting.

That is, if I have the guts to bring it up.

That could be our lead.

Any help?

Yeah, look at item five.

The OPEC nations are having a meeting to discuss a new price rise in oil. Oh,

sure. They're holding it in Vegas. Sure. So they can check out the property they

bought. Yeah. And old Fidel is sending a boatload of technicians and equipment

to Angola. Non -military. The rumors are he's going to introduce sugar cane into

the Angolan plains.

The technicians are all agribusiness experts.

That's a switch.

Okay for column one.

Maybe. That barricaded cuckoo amount, do you know?

Not really.

He let his kids go. He still has his wife. He has a history of this kind of

violent behavior.

Well, we don't need to encourage it. We'll put it inside, Ben. Luther

wife made a rather touching plea this morning.

Cardell again?

He gets more mileage than the Tokyo Four Banger.

Let's kick old Luther inside, too. Anything else?

Yeah. Yeah.

But it's...

It's not on the budget.

Not for print, actually.

It's just for us to kick around.

There may be nothing.

There probably is nothing.

What is it, Lou?

Well, a guy contacted me today.

He's not the most reliable source in the world.

But he's not the most unreliable either.

I've known him for years and...

Lou.

Okay.

He says he can get us an interview with Luther Cardale.

Cardale?

That'll be a thing.

That'll be a thing. Yeah, yeah, I know.

I know. Me too.

But maybe you can get us Jimmy Hoffa while he's at it.

Or Judge Cranor.

Who was your source, Lou?

This isn't going to make it sound any better.

But he's an old newspaper man named Jack Riley.

Oh, Jack Riley.

Jack Riley.

He's had a mess of hard times. He's gone from top rewrite man to PR flack to

semi -retired all in the past eight years.

Drinking problem?

No. Arthritis. He can't type anymore.

His last job was media liaison with Guatemala Earthquake Assistance League.

Before that, an outfit that did PR work for the Cardell Company. Are you

vouching for him, Lou?

Well... Yeah.

No. I mean... I guess...

Yes and no.

Where is Cardell? He wouldn't tell me. He won't get into it any deeper until he

knows that the Trib is interested.

Now, those are supposedly Cardell's instructions.

What does he want out of this?

That's just it.

That's the only reason I brought it up.

He doesn't want anything.

What do you suggest?

I don't know.

I mean...

I've always been an easy mark for Jack.

I want to stay out of it as much as possible.

Okay. Let's get him in here and try to tear his story apart.

I don't like this kind of pressure.

Don't worry, I'll be here for support.

Jack Riley, meet Dale Jergensen, our financial editor. Hello, how do you do?

know our Donovan. Hi, how's it going? This is Carla Mardigian, our Luther

Cardell expert. Hello. And this is Joe Rofty. Hello, Joe.

Jack's agreed to do this on three conditions.

No police, no federal agents, nothing to leave this room. Anyone have a problem

with that?

No. No problem. Good.

Now, I told Jack there's going to be a nice, easy, friendly discussion.

Okay? Fine.

Go get him.

Now, Mr. Riley, tell us about the first time that Cardell got in touch with you.

Does Cardell have any nicknames?

Some of the people who work for him call him a luger. I don't know why. His

friends call him Luth. After the Cardell label expanded into Arizona, what was

the name of the PR firm that handled it?

Contemporary Media Incorporated. Right. Phil Rawlings out there.

They also used to handle the Salt River Media Liaison. Are Milt McPhee and Jerry

Rosen still with them? No, Milt retired about three years ago. He's got a

houseboat somewhere in Florida now. I never heard of Jerry Rosen.

We didn't handle the Salt River Project. That was Higgins in Scottsdale.

Were you working for Contemporal when you met Cardell? No, they terminated me.

was with the Guatemalan Earthquake Assistance League.

That was a terrible time.

The Indians were starving without clothes.

Some good people were sending him things they couldn't possibly use, like

sunglasses, ashtrays, for God's sakes.

I got fed up with the red tape. I went to Mr.

Cardell's office in L .A. He agreed to send 10 ,000 cases of canned corn on the

condition that I went with it to make sure it got into the right hands.

Is that the only time you met him? No, I met him once more when I got home from

Guatemala. I gave him a count of the conditions down there and, uh...

He liked me. That was it. I never talked to him again until yesterday.

Why did Contemporal fire you?

There was a slight discrepancy in the accounting of the petty cash that came

light. How slight?

$857.

You want to tell us about it?

It's a bit embarrassing, Lou.

Make us blush.

Well, it was this Mexican family I sort of got involved with, and they needed

it. Mexican family? Of course, you don't remember their name.

Yeah, the name and address is on the back of that picture.

I'm sure somebody like you could check it out.

You probably got a lot of contacts in Tijuana.

Mr. Riley, where is Luther Cardale?

He's in Cuba.

You're saying that a man who parlayed a pickup truck and two tons of carrots

into a multimillion -dollar fortune defected to Cuba?

I didn't say defected.

A lot of people go to Cuba these days.

Oh, brother.

Look, I'd rather you were hearing this from him, believe me. He's not the first

person to find life at the top a bit empty.

So through Cuba, he wants to teach the third world how to feed itself.

If anyone can do it, it's Luther Cardell.

Jack, how can we interview Cardell if he's in Cuba?

He said he'd either meet us in Mexico or Jamaica, one of the two.

I don't get it.

Why does he want to talk to us?

I don't know. When you see him, why don't you ask him that?

Why would he take off without saying goodbye to his wife?

I wondered about that, too.

Okay, he was last seen inspecting one of his packing plants in Brawley. Now, how

did he get from there to Cuba without leaving any trace?

Through Mexico, but I don't know many of the details.

How about any of the details?

I know he was helped. According to Monty, Mr. Cardell left Tampico for

a fishing boat before he was even reported missing.

Where does Monty call you from?

I can't tell you that. Why not?

Because my boy is contrary to his instructions.

Sure it is.

Look, I don't know whether I'm being watched or what. Sometimes I feel like

It's your conscience, man, trying to pull off a scam like this. I'll bet you

wouldn't know Luther Cardell if you met him in your soup.

Listen, kid, a lot of good stories are lost in that kind of skepticism.

Gee, I tell you, Lou, if I knew it was going to turn out like this, I'd have

told Mr. Cardell to get somebody else.

Okay, let's wrap this up. No more questions except one for me, Jack.

What's in it for you?

Well, when you're all heroes, why don't you just give me what you think it's

worth?

He knows a lot about Cardell, but so do a lot of people.

So? So I'd see his next card.

Donovan? Seems knowledgeable enough.

I'd go along with him till he puts the bite on us.

You think there's a bite coming?

If it's a con, there'd have to be. Sure, it's a con. Anyone would walk... Dale,

how'd he check out? He worked for Contemporal for two months.

That petty cash figure is right on the button.

Wonderful. We proved he's a thief.

I don't know.

I think it's an honest man to admit he's a crook.

Oh, you know what I mean.

How about his earthquake story?

Oh, he worked for them. Made two trips to Guatemala.

Also, Cardell did donate 10 ,000 cases of corn. Who says Riley had to talk him

into it? Cardell was always doing things like that.

Right, but what gets me is that those corn figures were never made public, and

Riley knew them. Well, he was working for the Earthquake Assistance League. He

could have had access to the figures.

Sure. Hey, I'm like you. I'm skeptical about this whole thing, too.

It's just that, from where I sit, his story seems plausible.

It's just hard to believe that Luther Cardell's in Cuba.

Well, what if he is?

If you let this flake suck you in, you're a couple of idiots.

You're his immediate superior, Lou. Would you like to respond?

Thank you, Charlie.

I think I would.

How'd you like to have your nose moved over to where your ear is?

Look, all I'm asking for is positive proof, and I don't think that man can

produce it.

There is a way.

You and Carla go see Mrs. Cardell.

Find out one or two things only your husband would know.

Cuba? Oh, Miss Mardigian, I am so tired of these stories.

We have our own doubts, but a lot of this man's story checks out.

The only way we can be sure is with your cooperation.

Well, all right, if this possibility is alive.

Right, let me think.

Something that only Luther could have known.

This might be a good one.

It was during our honeymoon in Wales.

A little dog followed Luther around and went everywhere with him. Even to bed,

it was most embarrassing.

Luther grew very fond of it. He even talked about bringing it home, but it

on the boat.

He called it to Carlisle.

That's good.

Is there anything else you can give us?

Oh, I wish this were over with.

This awful not knowing that's so terrible.

Did you know that unless the body is found, the estate can't even go into

probate for seven years?

Now then, let's see.

Great. What's the mutt's name?

You really want me to tell you here?

No. And on second thought, don't tell me at all.

I'll wait till Riley tells me.

Once you get the dog's name, ask your old buddy, Lute.

What his middle initial used to be.

He dropped it when he was 18.

Okay, Lou, I'll ask him.

But I hope it doesn't tick him off.

We'll just have to take that chance.

Jack, what do you want?

I'll give it to you if I can.

But please tell me the truth.

Because little by little, I'm sticking my neck out more and more on this.

Please.

If this is a con, level with me.

It's no con. I wouldn't do it to you.

I hope not, Jack.

Boy, I can't wait to see the look on your face when you finally shake hands

Luther Cardone.

Morning.

Morning, Lou. Where's the assignment sheet?

Hugh's been looking for you.

What for?

Well, he had that look he gets when you know who has his butt on her griddle.

Lou, where have you been?

On a bus where I am every morning about this time.

I thought we agreed to keep this Cardell thing under wraps. It is under wraps.

Not anymore.

Why did you bring that fool story up to me? Why do I ever listen to you?

Well, come on, come on. She's waiting.

Who's waiting? Our boss, the publisher, Mrs. Pinchon.

Oh, her.

I want to know why the entire composing room knew about this attempted hoax

before I did.

It's lucky I didn't read about it in the Times. Mrs. Pinchon, we haven't been

hoaxed into prints.

I don't know how the composing room found out, but I'll get to the bottom of

We don't know that it is a hoax yet.

I don't want promises and excuses. I want to be told when the credibility of

trib is being thrown up for grabs.

And I won't have that integrity jeopardized by some old con artist you

in Chicago.

I don't want to sell him short. We've got two questions, and the only way

can answer them is if he knows Cardell. And if he does?

Well, then I think that we have to go with him. I'd like to go on record as

wanting to drop the whole thing right now.

Yeah, there would be an enormous relief by just dropping it.

And again...

I mean,

you can't help wonder what it would be like if we could find Luther Cardell.

There's always an element of risk, Mrs. Pinchon.

When is your friend supposed to contact Cardell again?

Well, he's not exactly my friend.

He's supposed to hear from a guy named Monty this morning. Look, Mrs. Pinchon.

He's really not a close friend.

You understand? I mean, it's a crapshoot either way.

It's a colorful way to put it, Mr. Grant. It's also a bit unrealistic to

Cardell would walk away from his family without a word.

Oh, don't be too sure of that.

No, from what I've heard, the Cardells haven't slept in the same bed since

General MacArthur was recalled.

What do you think, Mr. Hill?

Well...

I think Truman had no choice.

How about this, about the Cardell matter?

Cuba.

Well, if everybody who didn't go to bed with his wife went to Cuba, Havana would

be a livelier city.

I would say that we'd be better off to put it off.

Until the Times printed it.

If you believe your friend, let's follow it up.

Okay. Oh, Mr. Hume.

I understand all your reservations.

There's just one thing that makes me feel we should go ahead.

Mr. Grant's willing to stake his reputation on it.

Now, Mrs.

Pinchon... Thank you, gentlemen.

The thing I want to do before I die is find out who leaked that information to

the composing room.

I guess we'll never know.

You pack a lunch and I'll bring the old blanket and go up to Allegiant Park.

Okay, baby, I'll see you about 12.

Bye -bye.

Field trip?

Yeah.

Blonde in the composing room? Yeah.

Next time you feel you have to make scintillating conversation over what you

call lunch, do it with your mouth shut. The whole plant knows about Cardell.

Well, that settles it.

She's not meeting my folks.

Morning, Lou. What a fantastic day.

How'd you get past the guard?

Oh, Tim, I'm getting him some ramp tickets.

You're incredible.

You ready for some news?

What?

The man called just like he said he would. It's a go on all burners.

He just dialed your motel from Havana.

No, he's already in Jamaica.

Kingston, Jamaica. That's where he's waiting for us. Oh, gee, that's great,

Jack. That's really great.

Um, did you by any chance just happen to get an opportunity to ask him those

questions? No, I told you he'd balk at that, remember?

You asked him. Oh, yeah. But you didn't get the answer. He was very upset on how

his offer was received.

And, Brooke, no more nonsense. He told me that.

Well, I don't think I will either, Jack, and I'm telling you that.

He insisted from here on in that his instructions be followed to the minutest

detail. There isn't going to be any here on in, Jack, if you don't have those

answers. Oh, those? Oh, yes, of course I have them. She gave them both to me.

Carla! Rossi!

Morning, Mr. Ryder. Morning.

Who's on special today, Amelia Earhart?

That adorable dog in Wales was called Carlisle.

If you promise you won't tell anybody, my middle initial is T for Tertius.

Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll go home and pack.

for a decision, Charlie.

Right.

What do you think?

I think there's only one way to know for sure.

He better be there.

He'll be there as long as we follow the instructions.

All right, we go.

Fantastic.

What are his instructions?

We leave tomorrow, 6 a .m. flight to Miami.

Switch to flight 409 for Kingston.

If we're not contacted when we arrive at the airport, we proceed to the hotel,

check into our suites, and sit tight until we get a word.

Suites, Jack?

Mr. Cardell's instructions.

First cabin all the way. Naturally, he'll pick up the tab.

Ha. No.

What? This newspaper pays its own way.

Right? Uh... Right.

Whatever. Now, once we're in Jamaica, we're never to refer to Mr. Cardell by

name. Would he use a code name?

Seabass.

Seabass? I know. He does have a flair, though, doesn't he?

Well, these pictures.

He'll take a photographer with you.

When are you going to understand?

He's nervous.

Anything contrary to his instructions could have bought this whole thing.

He was very specific about that.

When we get there, you'll see for yourself.

What are you talking about?

I'm not going on this thing.

I stay here and send people out on stories.

Rossi's going with you, and he's one of our best.

That kid?

No way, Lou.

You don't go, then neither do I.

He goes or I don't go.

The only reason I brought this here is because that man is my friend. I could

have very easily brought it to the Times. I still can.

I'm sure Mr. Cardell won't mind. No, sir, Jack. This is our baby.

Lou, you go with Rossi, corroborate the whole thing. Donovan can cover the desk.

Our baby, Charlie.

Unless Cardell doesn't show in 48 hours.

Then it's your baby, Lou.

Congratulations.

Ten minutes to boarding.

I wonder what's keeping Jack.

Jack, huh?

What happened to Deep Flake?

Well, you have to admit his credibility is looking up.

There he is.

Jack, over here.

Morning, Lou.

Great day for flying, huh?

Or taking a flyer. Can I speak to you for a minute? Excuse us, will you,

Listen, Lou, I hate to bring this up, but it cost me 14 bucks for the cab and

five for the sky cab.

You'll be reimbursed. That's great.

Listen, Mr. Cardell's only expecting two men.

And a third man could foul up the deal.

Especially that third man.

Get used to him. He's gone.

Lou, this is going to be one hell of a story when it breaks.

I thought maybe we could write it together. Share the byline.

We could knock their socks off, kid, just like the old days.

Leave them out of it, though. Please.

We don't need them.

You and I, we don't need anyone.

You know something, Jack?

I'm beginning to buy everything you say.

And that's very disturbing.

Well, I can't type anymore.

When my hands went, that ended it as far as a rewrite man.

I guess I could have been a leg man, but... My God, I can still dictate a

better than any kid that passes for a reporter today.

I'm sure if this thing works out...

Rossi will be proud to share the credit with you.

You'll get your file.

Kind of nice to be away from the Big Orange, isn't it, Lou?

That depends.

If there's a message from Cardell at the hotel, I'll feel better.

Crying out loud, Lou?

He was very clear about that.

Look, Jack, I'm really going along with this, right? I mean, here I am in

Jamaica after a first -class flight on my way to a suite to a first -class

hotel.

But something in me needs to draw the line someplace.

So I've drawn it.

I'm not going to call anyone feebass.

You will.

No message when we checked in, Charlie. Jackson is sweet now, waiting for a

call.

No, Charlie, I don't know exactly how much I spent so far.

Yeah, sure, I've been keeping a record.

Well, let's see.

The cab from the airport.

I had to get some toothpaste.

I tipped the bellboy.

I guess so far we've spent around three grand, which is why I don't want to run

up a telephone bill.

Compliment the Mr.

S. Bass.

Why do I keep feeling a hook in my mouth?

Wait.

Let me guess.

Your old communion suit.

Where did you get that? You mugged Sidney Greenstreet?

I bought it downstairs.

How? I put it on our tab.

One thing we don't want to do is stand out.

I mean, three guys in woolen suits in Jamaica.

It's bound to attract attention.

Good thinking.

Good thinking.

Now there'll only be two guys in woolen suits.

Not exactly.

I bought one for you and him.

They're sending them up.

I think we have to get a few things straight, Jack.

The paper's not going to pay for three ice cream suits. Hold it.

He called.

Cordell? Marty.

I know. I think it's getting exotic, too. Huh?

They want us to go to a place called the Plantation Gardens. We're to be looked

over. In three white suits, you can bet on that.

What does that mean, looked over? Checked out.

To see if we're legit.

No feds or attorneys to take him back home.

He sure is careful.

Wouldn't you be, Lou?

These things are beginning to get to me.

It must be the orchids.

We look like we're going to step out and sing any minute.

Ow.

What's the matter?

I think I still got a pin in this suit.

Where's Monty?

He looks like a Monty.

Everyone in here does.

I hate this stuff.

Don't look now.

Don't look now.

There's a guy at the end of the bar looking down here.

Can I look, Mal?

Yeah.

Could be him.

Listen, Monty.

How do you know?

That's Norm Crowder of the New York Times.

What do you think?

I think he doesn't dress as well as we do.

Oh, I mean, do you think they're onto it, too?

I don't know.

Could be a coincidence.

I hope so.

I'll find out.

Hey, what if it isn't a coincidence?

What if he is down here on the same story we are?

That would mean you'd tell him the truth.

They wouldn't send him on a wild goose chase. That's wonderful.

Maybe I won't lose my job.

Oh, I thought that was you. Oh, I was going.

When did you become a maitre d'? Yeah, it is nice, isn't it?

So, what are you up to down here, anyway?

Oh, just working a story.

You?

Vacation.

You took a vacation?

With two men?

Yeah. Well, uh... We're gay.

Didn't you know about this place?

You're on a story.

Look. I told you the truth. If you don't want to believe me, that's up to you.

See you later.

How much does this story mean to you? A lot. Why?

You may have to dance with me.

Hey, waiter, another bottle, please.

We've all gone home, Jack. The place is closing.

Rosie Dawn stands on tiptoe, wondering why we're still sitting here.

Well, I guess we'll have to try again tonight.

Try what? To bolster the local rum industry?

Where's Cardell, Jack?

Seabass. No, Cardell. Where's Cardell, Jack?

Maybe he couldn't make it.

Maybe the reporters scared him off. How do I know?

Maybe he'll still show.

Sure, sure. Don't worry, Lou.

Maybe it'll happen tonight.

Do you think we're going to do this every night?

Only until we find him.

Yeah, it's me.

I think.

Yeah.

Yeah, put him through.

Hello, Charlie?

Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't call last night. It was late and we came up empty.

No.

No, I'm up.

I'm dressed.

I've been dressed for hours.

Come on home, Lou.

They found Luther Cardell's body.

I can't believe it.

Are you sure it's Cardell's body?

What happened? They found him at the bottom of Ramos Canyon with his

in a sports car.

They've been there for a month.

Charlie, I don't know what... Who is it?

Jack.

Okay, Charlie.

We'll see ya.

Hello.

Hey, Jack!

Great hat!

I met him. You met who? Monty. You met Monty in person?

Took me to a phone booth and put Mr. Cardell on the line.

Seabass. Right.

You talked to Seabass personally?

Right. Uh -oh. He gave me a new instructions.

Good.

Hi, Jack.

Remember the Times guy, Crowder? Yeah. Well, we got nothing to worry about. I

found out he's on another story. Some lobbyist laundering money for a senator.

Good. Then we're in the clear. And good thing, too. Because Jack just met Monty.

Then he talked to Cardell.

Seabass. Seabass, right.

Seabass. And we got a whole new set of instructions.

Go on, Jack.

What did I tell you?

It gets crazier all the time. Yeah, how bad it does.

I don't know why he did it this way.

The only way I can figure it is he's an old guy who's suddenly become a

mysterious figure and he's milking it for everything it's worth.

Anyway,

first we buy a lot of fishing gear, rent a car, and drive to Montego Bay North

Shore Inn.

Check into our suites and wait for instructions.

It's finally happening.

Hello, honey.

Yeah, be a doll.

And get me North Shore Inn, Montego Bay.

Yeah, I'll wait.

Hey, you know what?

If Cardell wants us to be rich tourists, let's really do it upright.

Let's reserve a whole bungalow. Now you're talking, Lou. Hey, let's rent a

Royce for that drive up to Montego Bay. What do you say?

Nice touch.

Fantastic.

Jack, hang up.

They found a body.

Body? What body?

Cardell's at the bottom of a canyon back home. Dead.

You know what?

I like my story better.

Hey, Lou.

Hey, Lou.

What are you doing out here?

I came to cool off.

It didn't work.

Listen, I'd better leave you alone.

Too late.

I asked you a dozen times whether you were conning me.

I gave you every chance to bail out. But you just kept ticking it to me.

I can't use my hands, Lou.

Good. That'll make it easier.

You know, Lou, I think you lost your sense of humor.

You made a fool out of me.

Not only that, you made it cost me my job. We're supposed to be friends.

You mean that our friendship isn't more important than a job?

It's just a job.

You can get another job.

Three guys like us, we've had hundreds of jobs.

I happen to like this one.

Got it, Dad?

Come out of there.

Come on, come out of there.

Come here and let me speak to you.

You don't mean that, Lou.

Huh?

No, I don't.

Come on out.

Listen, when we asked you those questions about the dog and the

middle name, how'd you come up with the answers?

I called Mrs. Cardell, said I was Ross's boss, and had to double -check on the

information she'd given him.

Damn!

What's the matter?

Oh,

it's so obvious.

So simple.

So stupid.

I thought it was some brilliant thing.

I didn't need brilliant.

Sure.

I fell for it.

My life's all for it.

You fell for it because you wanted to believe it.

So does your congenital skeptic, Rossi.

You know, underneath all that cynicism, you're both romantics.

Most newspaper men are.

We keep looking for that one story.

It'll make all the false leads and all the routine assignments worthwhile.

Well, why'd you do it, Jack?

Oh, I... I don't think I could answer that one, Lou.

You know, I... I guess the reason was I... I haven't had much dessert

in my life lately, Lou.

I guess...

I guess I wanted a little party like we had in the old days, you know?

And I guess... I guess I couldn't think of anyone else I

wanted to share it with except you.

Well, thanks, Jack.

Thanks a lot.

You're welcome, Poop.

Haven't you people ever seen a pigeon before?

Not a 200 -pound one.

Get to

work.

Now, the major problem, as I see it, is how to keep the story from getting out.

How do we keep our red faces from showing?

It's bound to get out. We could use our influence, soften it a little, keep it

from cutting too deep.

Listen,

why try to bury it?

Why keep it from getting out?

I mean, why don't we admit what happened?

Write the story ourselves.

Oh, that's crazy.

I love your sense of humor, Lou.

Too much Tropico, son. He'll be all right with rest.

No, I mean it.

We'll write it.

Feature it? Front page.

Feature what, Mr. Grant?

Well, what a nice surprise.

I can't remember the last time that we had the honor of you at our news

conference. Well, I drop down every time I'm taken for $5 ,000.

Gentlemen, you all look as if the principal had just caught you in the

locker room. Will you sit down?

You just go on with what you were discussing.

You'll make believe I'm not here.

Would you like my chair?

I'm fine. You go on.

I don't want to interrupt.

Now, let's see. Where were we?

We were talking about something. What were we talking about?

I was saying that we got snookered.

Now, we shouldn't try to hide it.

I was saying that we should write it. Well, that's out of the question. Why

would we want to do that?

Because it's a good story.

Not for us, it isn't. Would it be a good story if it happened to the Times?

It would be a great story if it happened to the Times.

I wish it had happened to the Times.

And if it had, we'd print it. With flags around it.

It's our story.

It happened to us. We've got all the facts.

Or would you rather see it in the Times?

Are you thinking of moving over there?

Are you thinking of sending me? It's crossed my mind.

But then I remembered what a good relationship I have with them.

Look, it's your paper. You'll do what you want with it.

But I think it's the only way for us to go.

For heaven's sakes, Lou, haven't we stuck our necks out enough? Do we have

complete idiots about this?

Not idiots, Charlie.

Humans.

And if you think we can recover our dignity by trying to hide the truth, we

haven't learned much the past few years.

Run your story, Mr. Grant.

But at the Tribune, we insist on accuracy.

Be sure you make yourself look like a complete ass.

Well, looks like you won another one.