Original subtitles

Either you jock so much as move, you'll wind up in the moral of that Dixie cup.

You got nothing on us, man.

I want six nickel bags.

Now, you call that dealing.

I need this simple, Farrell.

How about 90 days at Rikers? Will that satisfy him?

You gonna toss me, too?

No, Pinky, you I'm gonna blow to a bay shirt in it.

Look at that dude fly.

All right, Pinky.

Give. I swallowed it. Come on. You swallow a bush of kitty litter before

swallow that fix. Give.

I don't know what you want with me. I'm nothing.

I need an arrest, baby. You may be nothing, but you're mine nothing.

Hey, man, wait. Listen. I'm really been bad.

It's two days in psychopathy.

Let me go, huh?

I gotta nod, man. I just gotta.

You got your kid with you?

Manhattan South Precinct Detective Squad.

Sergeant Vine speaking.

Farrell, what are you doing up?

I figured you'd be tucking in bed by this time.

You what?

Now, driving home from my sister's, I made a narcotics collar.

I busted him in hand to hand.

Okay, okay, so I'm bucking for cop of the month. Just dig me up a fresh

typewriter ribbon, will you, Sarge? I'll be there in ten minutes.

What was that about?

You're not gonna believe me.

We love you. All right, come on, everybody, wait.

Lieutenant, it's here. Here he is.

After my job, sir, I would just say so.

Okay, sorry to have carried it away.

I get those ripples, too, but then I think of all that paperwork.

So if you want to save yourself the paperwork, next time you get that

gung -ho coming on, do what I always do.

What's that?

You whistle down a rookie patrolman and hand the collar over to him.

I'm booking up in here.

Oh.

Good luck.

Oh, yeah, I'll need a property envelope.

All right, Sergeant.

And what, might I ask, Detective Farrow, is this supposed to be?

It's not vitamin E, Sergeant.

No, that is not.

And it sure isn't Big Harry.

Be dumb and be jabbers, man.

You can't jug a junkie for shooting soap.

Car 723, 10 -4.

Close the door.

Sit down.

Sit down.

How much for me again, why don't you?

I need you too much for my head, like come what.

You were my alibi, junkie.

Foolproof and airtight.

That's why I allowed you to fix.

With you flying on an oven fresh high, you wouldn't remember the end of the

world.

But your connection was pushing roach powder.

It was cut so many ways it wouldn't freak the midget.

And you came down fast than I counted on.

Fast enough to dig on a tune overheard in a service alley.

And to note maybe the fact that you were all alone in the car.

And that Detective Farrow was nowhere to be seen.

Well, that's... That's bad news all around, Hype.

It's bad for me.

It's bad for you.

I'm holding, Pinky.

Get the cooker going.

I never cop.

No, poor man. You bounce me off the walls, I wouldn't cop.

A junkie's promise.

The supreme high, Pinky.

Like it comes off the boat.

Forensic been notified?

On the way. The M .E.? Yeah.

Who's that?

Mr. Palachak, the building super. He found the body. It is really the noise,

Victorola. People, people could, impatience, they complain.

I can understand that, so I just phoned and there was no answer.

Though I put my clothes on, went upstairs and knocked, knocked.

Nothing again.

Though I opened up here with my pasky.

Well, it's not playing now.

Yeah, of course. I turned it off.

You shouldn't have done that, Mr. Poroshek.

Did you touch anything else?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course.

The door knob.

Hi,

sweetheart.

You should have called. I would have put something in the oven.

No, I caught a beef dip at McGinnis's.

But could I ever use a highball?

Hard day, darling?

Yeah. I'll breathe.

Hey, redhead.

How's that drink coming?

I'm parched.

In a minute, babe. I'm just calling Dolly to remind her we're on for

tomorrow.

Who's on standby?

Just a second.

Farrow and Oldman.

All right, drag him off the charts and give him a fourth whiff.

Why do you drink so much? What do I do?

Everything you like to do is wrong.

According to you, everything I like to do is either illegal, immoral, or

fattening. Good morning.

How do you feel?

I swung by. I figured we'd ride in together.

I caught a homicide.

Oh, Nick just got home.

Kojak's orders must be heavy.

Mayfair apartment. Some guy named Harris.

Hey.

You look awful.

You should see me without the pancake.

Don't wait up.

Oh, no.

Absolutely no way the killer could have gotten past you. Not through the front

lobby, no, sir. 7 p .m. to 7 a .m. Nobody enters or exits that I don't

Tradespeople, tenants, guests, everybody logs in and out.

Everybody.

7 to 7 and no relief.

You must have cement kidneys.

Okay, so no non -bonafide entered the premises after you came on duty.

How about before?

Someone could have entered during the daylight? Hidden somewhere?

Waited for nightfall, committed the murder, and then slipped out through a

service exit?

Yeah, but it still didn't explain how he got into the apartment.

The door was locked, you know.

And no sign of any break -in.

You know, that's a very good point, Mr. Polichek. Thank you.

20 feet from the door, why there?

A cannon is pointing at him, and he stands there sipping a martini.

At a guess, approximately 10 .30.

He'll get my fine line with your breakfast oatmeal.

Whoever did it.

Tell him Magajanian said he's some fancy shooter.

Oh, you should be home in bed only.

Whoa.

Come back here, Doctor.

Oh, Magajanian's right.

I think floaters out of the East River look better than you do. I'm okay, Theo.

I'll be okay, Theo. I say, Judicone, I hope the whole beach will be thrown sand

in your face.

Would you take him inside and do a number on him? If it's catching, I don't

to hear about it.

What's the matter with you?

Oh, nothing.

Just a slight case of athlete's foot, but I'm off the critical list.

Well, I'm glad to hear that.

Because this case has warts on it, okay.

Victim leased the apartment a year ago under the name of Edward Harris.

The ID on his billfold reads Quincy Forsyth.

Name partner to a Wall Street law firm.

Scarsdale home address.

He used the apartment infrequently.

Never weekends, always at night.

An occasional Wednesday matinee. The doorman's lock can provide you with

dates.

There was a string of mall knockouts. The last bond named Miss Johnson. You

putting this down?

Yeah. Miss Johnson?

She must have copped rave reviews because he held her over about three

Okay, she arrived this evening around 7 .30.

Ingram, that's the doorman, permitting her to go straight up. Those being the

instructions from Mr. Harris or Mr. Forsythe or whatever you want to call

And at 10 .30, according to RME, he shuffled off his mortal coil.

What time did you say she left?

Shortly before 10.

Then that's her uphook.

Well, that's neat. A very neat homicide, right, gang? Culprit and motive. But I

should worry. I've got you and Olney on the job. I can take two weeks in the

cat's kilts.

One week. Olney's been scratched.

Of course, it's a long time since I probed the vitals of a living person,

first -year med student couldn't diagnose the fact that Detective Olney

Ruptured appendix.

Sorry, partner.

I thought it was just a case of measles.

Take care.

What are you worried about? You'll have a partner.

Me?

Information, yes, please. I'd like the number of Quincy, 4th Scythe, 911,

Woodbridge Drive, Scarsdale.

The first thing we should do is try to...

Get a line on this Johnson chick. See if we can't run down to the cab and pick

her up tonight, huh?

Yes, what was that number again?

Who's around?

I mean, three months on the best fellow list, you must have left some souvenirs.

Yes, this is the New York City Police Department.

Lieutenant Kojak.

Manhattan South Detective Squad.

I'm calling in regard to Mr. Quincy Forsythe.

His wife?

Yes, I think you'd better wake her.

Yes, I know it's late, but it's urgent.

Yes, Lieutenant Kojak.

Yes, I'll wait.

In two years, Lefkowitz, you'll be a hopeless diabetic.

You got the domain's log? Sure, right here.

Where'd you leave your car? I'll drop you off.

No, I didn't hold it. It drove me in. All right. Come on, I'll drive you home.

That's all right. I'll take the subway.

Why, good mug. Come on.

Just one.

Or maybe just a quick one.

Right?

How's the little fella doing?

Retson okay?

Retsina, you've got to be kidding.

You're actually holding?

It's not exactly a big demand.

Five years and I still have the same bottle you gave us for our housewarming.

It doesn't spoil, does it? It doesn't spoil. You buy it rotten.

You could drop a dead cat in it. It wouldn't make any difference.

I think I'll call St. Luke's and see how old he is.

Good.

How's the world treating you, Jo?

Like a fairy princess.

You?

Well, I'm parting my hair a little bit differently.

Hey, I'm sorry to be dragging your old man out at this ungodly hour.

It's okay.

That's why they invented the back end.

Yeah, well, that's great. That's great. Thank you very much. Thank you.

Well, the operation was a huge success.

Good. And only he's resting comfortably in post -operative care.

In a year from now, he'll be telling us he got the scar from a big dockside

rumble.

Red, you're not joining us?

No, I'm way ahead of you.

Well, I guess I'd better split.

I got a big day tomorrow.

Yeah, well, your big day is my big day.

Thanks, Joe. See you tomorrow.

That was my engagement gift to you.

It cost me a three -week salary.

Where do you hide your wig?

All right, with this, we close the door. There will be no discussion.

And neither of us will ever refer to this again.

Now, when I presume you to be home, you will be home.

Yes. And when you tell me you're going someplace with the girls, that's exactly

and precisely what you're going to do, with every second rigidly accounted for.

Do you read me, Joanna?

Yes, yes.

Now, he never phoned you, did he? I mean, there's no way they can connect

No, I was very careful.

Oh.

Then how come I found out?

Soap, soap, soap.

Ferro's heavy drug collar, big yellow stuff.

Turns out he was carrying a stone.

All right. What do you got for me?

Autopsy confirmed.

Time of death, 10 .30 p .m. Oh.

That good Janey must be doing handstands.

The epileptics identified the make of the weapon.

A 9mm Browning, silencer equipped.

Is that a super match -up?

It's already in the works.

From the female attire hanging in the closet, plus some lingerie we found in

dresser drawer.

Forensic is able to give us some reconstructive statistics regarding the

probable height, weight, and age of the lady known as Miss Johnson.

Dormant could tell me that. Ah, but he couldn't figure this.

The tatling sheets on Forsyth's bed indicate that an indoor track meet took

place between 8 and 10 p .m. last night, and that the female contestant wore an

inexpensive, over -the -counter, blonde, nylon wig.

Okay, so what do you want? A departmental citation or a free trip to

I'll settle for a cup of coffee.

Are you kidding me? All right, go ahead. I'm buying. Just lost your point,

Sergeant.

Would it make it to the morgue yet?

Yeah, Crocker was with her. He got a written statement. How'd she take it?

Like a Spartan.

It seems her husband chasing around came as no surprise to her. The way she saw

it, as long as he kept it out of Scarsdale, it was simply a harmless

know, like collecting stamps.

Is she alibied?

Up to her earlobes.

It seems while Mr.

Forsythe was being aced...

Mrs. Forsythe was hostessing a party for the local chapter of the Beethoven

Society.

That'd be a moral ass someplace.

There lying on the carpet underneath coffee table.

What the devil is it?

That could be a tinfoil or a crumpled cellophane.

Well, there's nothing in forensics inventory that fills that pill.

Prince, what's your beef?

Hey, Kojak.

Of course we did. We vacuumed the whole apartment.

Well, if it is not on the inventory, somebody must have swung with it.

Now, look, you blow up that photo, and if it turns out nice, maybe I can swing

showing at the Guggenheim, okay?

Thank you. Any progress with the cab companies?

That could have been a cruising gypsy cab picked her up.

An off -duty hack sneaking an unreported fare?

Oh, the same. You stay with it. Miss Johnson came from somewhere, and Miss

Johnson had to go somewhere.

You're not saying that maybe she iced Forsythe?

Why not?

She could have paid for the taxi a block away, then doubled back.

The doorman said she had her own key, right?

She could have come early, sneaked in, and then left, leaving the service door

entrance open.

A woman with a handgun, six yards from her target, squeezes off a shot and hits

him between the eyes. Come on, Theo.

How about the silencer? She didn't pick that up at her favorite boutique.

Well, uh, I didn't say it was an idea I cherished.

Now, what's your theory, Sherlock?

A professional hit?

Well, it's got all the earmarks, hasn't it? Now, you show me a lawyer who hasn't

made some enemies, and I'll show you a notary public.

Oh.

Princess Takeout, what do you have?

Any evidence to indicate the color of Miss Johnson's natural hair?

No?

What, did you check Forsythe's comb and brush that?

Well, try the bathtub.

The drain.

Pick up the pipes if necessary.

Just doesn't scan.

Quincy's Forsythe and a nylon wig.

That's Chateaubriand and how many grits.

You know, if he'd gone, the hooker would have been okay, but that wasn't his

scene.

So if Miss Johnson wasn't wearing the wig for show... She was wearing it as a

disguise.

Brilliant.

Assuming Wall Street law firms keep normal business hours, it's time we paid

call on Brickeridge, Rathbone, Myers and Forsythe.

Hey, Pete.

Hey, man, it's Elmo.

Well, two hours, nine interviews, and a common consensus.

Quincy Forsythe was a prince among men. He was the paragon of integrity.

And he had an enemy in the world.

He had one.

Miss Johnson's husband.

Her husband. Where'd you get that? Forsythe secretary.

She says he only played around with marriage stuff. It was a cardinal rule.

No widows, no divorcees, no maidens. And no complications.

That was the idea, anyway.

So you're a bored suburban husband looking to connect with some bored

housewife? For being a big -time Manhattan barrister, you have to keep a

profile.

I guess we'd better go talk to someone at Mr. Forsythe's favorite watering

the time -out.

that one. Hey, how can I forget? She was something else, let me tell you.

Just as hungry as them, if you know what I mean.

That's through four days of steady propositions, bobbing and weaving before

decided to score.

Must have taken. She hasn't been back since.

Is this the dude?

Yeah, that's him.

You know, funny thing.

Some joker was in here a couple of weeks ago asking about the same blonde.

Can you describe him?

Women I remember, Dad, but men, well, they're, uh, they're just like suits and

ties to me, you know?

Just sit tight.

You located a scarecrow, but he's not going to do us much good unless we can

give him something he can take a look at. Uh, hold on. All right, ballistics

follow -up. The slug that cooled Forsythe matches the one dug out of a

wounded in a liquor store hold -up six months ago.

It's just what we needed. Hey, just trying to make your day.

You give me everything you can on that package store, shooting and making

No sooner said.

It's not tinfoil, it's not cellophane.

It's a piece of jewelry.

A pendant, a brooch, an earring.

But what the hell happened to it?

Stavros. Come here.

All right, you've had five years in burglary. What's your opinion?

Mid -range quality.

It's not Cartier's.

Well, it could be traceable.

Why don't you have it blown up some more, circulated through the jewelry

see what shakes?

Thank you very much.

You can put my name at the top of your Christmas list.

Guess what we found in the shower drain?

A redhead.

Prince, you're a pussycat.

All right, Nick.

I want you to assemble the doorman at the Mayfair Towers.

The cab driver.

The bartender at the time out.

Put him in a room with a departmental artist.

And come up with a version of Miss Johnson.

A red -headed version.

Thanks.

Hello,

Joanna. Now listen, you still have the jewel box that the brooch came with?

I get it.

I need the name and address to replace where I purchased it.

Don't you remember that?

No, I don't remember. It was West 45th Street, I think.

It's been six years.

Just get it, okay?

What are you going to do?

Do what I have to do.

Someplace there's my name on a sales record.

I have to destroy it.

I was checking the hospital to find out about Olney. Oh, yeah, give my best.

What did you say?

Cornblith Jewelers, 337 West 45th. Ah, you say you're taking a nap. Well,

all right. No, don't bother. I'll call later. Thank you very much. Thank you.

Thank you. Still hold up.

Here's the report.

Crime suspect, a Forster Bridges.

There's a yellow sheet on him the size of Delaware.

Victim failed to make a positive ID, and since the arresting officer couldn't

produce the weapon, the case was dropped.

Well, then our Bridges is our boy, right?

Well, he can't be in two places more, it's getting.

And one place we know he was when Forsyte was being killed was in the

sweating out a B &E.

But the gun wasn't at the tombs.

And a piece doesn't care who uses it.

Now, look, I'm going down to the tombs. You stick around here. Bear down on that

sketch of Miss Johnson.

She's a redhead. Right.

Hey, Nick.

What? I was just down in the morgue checking on a John Doe.

You know who else was there?

Your pal, Pinky.

Go on, be my guest.

make no promises, baby.

It's like I'm still studying on it. Nice private cell.

Little sweet daughter to DA.

Speedy, swift trial.

Sixty days from now, you're back out on the street, huh?

Oh, yeah.

Now, that's some heavy, heavy necktie you got.

I mean, a cat on the loose could cop an awful lot of heavy, heavy trade with a

tie like that.

Buster, you drive a hard bargain.

He didn't waste that, O 'Fay.

Who didn't?

He's hustling cars, you dig?

Cannon's just for status.

I mean, like ain't no uptown mama gonna fat mouth the brother who's packing a

magnum under his vines.

Who, Forster?

Who? What was that name again, Lieutenant?

Burgess Hannibal?

Right.

Where's Farrow? Went to get something to eat.

Hey, Theo, don't worry about it. Christmas is coming. What does that

We're going to take a collection and get you some ties.

Were they sure, Wiener?

Well, they weren't the best eyewitnesses I've ever dealt with.

They seemed fairly certain at the beginning, but when Farrell pinned them

down... All right.

Add them right off and distribute them.

Okay.

Here are the yellow pictures on Bridget's family.

Dig those priors.

Crocker!

Mediowina just left. Get her back here.

dispatch a squad car to the Mayfair Towers and collect that doorman Ingram.

And one more thing.

I want to see Nick Farrow's work schedule for the past three months.

Theo, Nick Farrow?

Light a candle, baby.

A get -well card won't do.

That's her. That's her to a T.

I told him the nose was all wrong, but that detective... Thank you very much

coming down. I appreciate it.

It was the thylaster. I should have picked up then.

What?

I don't know. He could have known. He hadn't seen the ballistics report.

But I figured when he mentioned it, after 16 years on the force, a man's

entitled to an educated guess.

There are other signals, too. I was just slow in tuning in.

A day, you call that slow?

Oh, Frank, it hurts.

I pinned the gold on him myself.

Leo, don't gouge yourself.

He kept it polished.

Until last night.

You're not sure of it, huh?

Not sure?

Oh, look, Frank.

Nick's past duty schedule.

The exact dates that Forsyte spent over at his apartment.

For the past three months, they coincide exactly with the times that Nick was

put on night duty.

After the package store shooting, Forced to Bridges, unloads his Browning on

Burgess Venable. He warns him that the piece is hot, but Venable doesn't care.

He only wants it for show anyway.

Two months ago, Venable is collared on a morals charge.

Later released.

Arresting officer, our hero, Nick Farrell.

No mention here of any weapons confiscation?

Check. And there should have been.

You know, Forster said that Venable was so in love with that cannon that he even

slept with it.

There's just one thing wrong with that, Lieutenant.

Farrow's alibi for the time of the Forsythe job.

He phoned in a drug caller ten minutes before.

You positive of that, Sergeant? Captain McNeil, I logged it myself.

Farrow needed an airtight alibi. What could be sweeter?

I want to interview that junkie. No way.

Inky Hollister was so happy that he was released, he went home and OD'd.

Did you see the autopsy?

No.

This is Lieutenant Kojak, Manhattan South.

Let me speak to Agajanian.

Hello, Doc.

You processed an OD today? Name's Hollister? What's his story?

Yeah, it figures.

Thanks.

Eighty -seven percent pure.

As lethal as a cyanide pellet.

Now, what's a nickel bag hype doing with uncut horse, huh?

Or a street pusher, for that matter.

Only an importer handles the product before it's cut.

Or a cop who's in on a high -level bust, like the Pellegrini collar which

occurred this past summer with Olney and Farrell.

So that makes it two homicides.

Exactly. Which explains the piece of jewelry.

explains Joanna's hepatitis.

Even the precise time of Forsythe's murder, which for Ferris' purposes had

occur at the exact time that he and his partner were the next up on the

assignment roster.

So he could catch his own kiss.

The only thing he didn't anticipate was only his appendicitis.

Circumstantial, Theo, all of it. Yeah.

I know it's circumstantial.

But it won't be once I've spoken to Burgess Venable.

Al, I need a location on Nick Farrow.

Car 723, we have a location on Detective Farrow. Car 425, west 89th Street. Car

723, 10 -4.

Hold it, pal!

What's the point?

Where would you go?

You said we went to out of Mongolia. Kill Timothy.

Kill him.

Send an ambulance to 485 West 89th Street.

Right away.

Corn Bluth's jewelry on West 45th Street.

Chances are they never would have remembered me, but their sales records

First Burgess Venable, and then the jewelers, and then home to the little

right?

Well, that was the idea.

You wouldn't have stopped there, Nick.

Then the cab driver, and then the doorman, and then the bartender at the

out. And you know something? In the end, Nick,

It would have been me.

I guess I always knew that after you took over from... For Olney.

But I gave you good time.

I always gave you my best, didn't I?

Didn't I, Theo?

It's not what you gave me. Me and your party favors.

It's the badge.

You used it, Nick.

And that's not what it's there for.

It's not a credit card.

It was personal.

What's the matter? A cop can't be human. He can't be like other people.

You tried it.

What's your answer?