Original subtitles

Thank you.

How you doing? Oh, Irene.

Well, who were you expecting, honey? The FBI?

I wasn't expecting anyone. Oh, good. I'm glad to hear you say that.

I was about to go beddy -bye, and then I thought our bumping into each other

accidentally this afternoon might lead to fun after all. Fun? How?

Well, it's closing down to the Paris Follies over at the Pine Tree Lodge. I

don't want to go over there by myself, but together it's... Of course, if

having a winning streak, I don't know that I want to break that up. No, no

winning streak. In fact, I'm about even.

What time does the show start?

11 .30, about 20 minutes from now.

Come on, cash these in and be my guest.

Okay. Might be fun.

See you at the door. Okay.

A couple of hundred dollar travel checks, okay?

We'd be quite happy to cash a personal check, Mr. Barnes. Yeah, and have my

find out I've been up here. No, thanks. Well, Mrs. Aldridge.

Aren't you Mrs. Aldridge? Oh, yes. I'm Mrs. Aldridge. The man over there would

like to speak to you.

Before you cash in your tip.

The man with the hundred and glasses. Oh,

thank you.

Did you understand?

Yeah.

Hey, that's a nice little sum you got there, Mrs. Ogden.

$3 ,500 if my count is correct.

And I think it is.

You've been watching me? Yeah.

With a great deal of interest.

Why? Well, I thought maybe I could buy in on the action if it's all the same to

you.

Or may I?

Why do you want my book?

Well, I thought maybe it would bring me some luck like it has you so far, Mrs.

Ogden. But I haven't won anything.

Well, I happen to believe different.

Five hundred dollars.

There you are.

Oh.

You know something?

I got an odd feeling that your luck had just run out.

Go get her and bring her back.

This is Ogden. The gang's over. Hold it right there.

I did keep an eye peeled like you told me to, Mr. Searle. But as far as I could

see, she was playing on the level.

Did you notice anybody? Anybody that could have been with her?

Well, this blonde, a real cool number, she came up and spoke to her. But it

sounded like they knew each other from before.

Not like they were working together.

The blonde called her Myrna.

Is that any help?

Oh, yeah, that's a lot of help.

There are only 10 ,000 Myrnas in California, if that's where she's from.

How much did she take you for, Mr. Searle?

Well, the boys aren't through checking yet, but it's about ten grand.

Phew.

Say that again.

Okay, beat it.

Yeah.

Well?

A real cutie, that baby.

The license number's issued to a renter car joined in Reno.

You got anybody watching the place?

Yeah, but she never shows. She could turn that car into any one of a hundred

other branches or just ditch it someplace.

She signed in as Mrs.

Richard Ogden, 3320 Calmea Street, San Francisco.

That won't do any good, Tony. There's no such street in San Francisco.

Well, there goes our dough.

Over my dead body.

All I want is ten minutes alone with her.

Yeah, how do you figure out a range in that?

Maybe through these.

Let me see those.

Just the right color.

50 tip wrappers, just like ours, only the paper's a different color.

Where'd you find these?

In the parking area where her car was.

Before she went into that hit -and -run routine with me.

Take a look at the printing on the side.

Warren Novelli Company, Hollywood, California.

I really appreciate this, Perry.

It seemed easier to drop by on my way to the office than have you come all the

way downtown.

No, I meant the property settlement with Myrna. I realize it's not particularly

your cup of tea, but since you did help set up the company and also settled the

patent infringement case for me, I just naturally turned to you again.

And besides, I figured that if anyone could help keep this company intact,

be you.

I can't take any credit for that.

Two years of marriage, no children.

You're giving Myrna far more than she's entitled to.

The only problem that remains is how to persuade her to let the money be put

into a cut fund in lieu of a cash settlement. It must be put in cut,

Otherwise, it'll be gone in a month.

Besides, I figure it's the least I can do, having struck out as a husband.

Compulsive gambling's a disease like compulsive drinking or kleptomania.

It's a problem for a psychiatrist, not a husband.

Well, even so, I could have done a little bit more to help instead of those

knock -down, drag -out scenes.

Both of us losing our temper, I just might have used a little more patience

understanding. What is it, Mr. Warren? Yes, what is that? There's a man outside

who insists on seeing you right now.

Oh, what does he want? I don't know. He says he's an investigator from the

County Department of Licenses and Permits.

Is that his name, Peter?

Maybe your dot's going from his lab.

I'll contact you after I've talked with my attorney.

I'll be here all day, Kurt.

Mr. Leonard?

Mr. Warren.

Sorry to bust in on you like this, Mr. Warren, but I'm on kind of a tight

schedule. My credentials?

The signature, in case you can't decipher it, is Jacob Leonard. Now, what

do for you, Mr. Leonard?

Answer a few questions I've been told to ask you.

But before I ask, maybe I'd better tell you I'm working in cooperation with the

DA's office.

You see, I used to be with the Nevada Gaming Commission.

And when anything on gambling comes up, why, uh, do they toss it to me?

Gambling? Am I supposed to be mixed up in some sort of gambling? Is that it?

You recognize that, don't you?

Yes, it's one of our poker chip wrappers. Yes, with a company name

it.

Besides playing chips, you manufacture fancy ones, don't you?

Yes, for private parties and people that want something special. Well, what is

all this about, Mr. Leonard?

And where did you find this?

In Nevada.

And what it's about, I was hoping you could tell me.

No, I can't, but if you...

I can see your way clear, so clue me in a little further.

One further clue.

The dark -haired lady at the roulette table.

You recognize her?

Yes?

No, I'm busy right now.

Can I call you back?

No, Peter, now!

I have to see you now. They may have followed me from Nevada. They may be

any minute.

Gamblers. And I don't know what they'll do. Kill me, maybe.

Please, Peter.

Please. You're the only one I can turn to.

Please, come to the apartment.

I drove all night just to see you. To talk to you.

Please.

I'll get there as soon as I can.

I'm sorry.

That's all right.

The dark period leading?

Oh, yes, the dark -haired lady. Am I supposed to know her?

You don't.

She's very pretty, Mr. Leonard, but I'm afraid I don't know.

I see.

Well, thanks a lot.

You're still not going to tell me what all this is about, eh?

Well, since it obviously doesn't concern you, Mr. Warren, can you think of any

reason why I should?

No, no, I can't.

See you around.

Verna?

Hello, Peter.

Hello, Verna.

I heard the bell, but I was in the shower.

I'm sorry I missed you at the office.

Missed me?

Yes, I called back to tell you not to come over.

Turned out to be a tempest in a teapot. Sounded more like a hurricane than a

tempest. Gamblers following you, probably trying to kill you. Myrna, I

like to know the story.

But you care. I told you, everything's all right now. I care because you're

still legally my wife, whether you like it or not. And also because I know the

whopping big lie trying to protect you. Myrna, I would like to know the whole

story. If you must know, I wrote a check on your account.

It's a pretty big one.

$3 ,000.

And then they found out we were separated.

They being the Nevada gamblers, huh? Yes.

They tried to stop me from leaving, but I got away, and I was in a panic, and I

drove all night, and then I called you.

And then I started thinking, $3 ,000 isn't very much money, not in Nevada.

So I called them, and I asked them if I could pay it back in installments.

And they said I could.

So you see, it was a test.

I didn't know you so well, Myrna. I just might believe that.

Are you accusing me of lying?

Put it any way you like.

Could it be that they caught you cheating?

You can ask me that, knowing me as well as you do.

You'd better leave, Peter, while we're still on speaking terms.

Speaking terms or not, I'm going to get to the bottom of this murder. Now, if

you weren't cheating, what was it then? Why were you so scared, and how am I

involved? Peter, no!

I'm not going to let you go until you tell me the truth! I'll tell you

round one, but I'm going to stay right here until you're ready to talk.

Hey, Mr. Warren.

If anything urgent comes up, I'm at Mrs. Warren's apartment.

Yes, I'll call you when I decide to leave, yes.

Oh, by the way, did Mrs. Warren call the office after I left?

She did.

Well, thanks.

I promise not to blame you, not to do anything. Will you tell me what

Murder!

Murder!

Well, Mr.

Warren.

We meet again.

By any chance, Mr. Leonard, are you following me?

No.

I was looking for Mrs.

Warren.

She's not here?

I don't care who she is, does it?

No?

No, I can't say that it does.

Any idea where she might be?

No, I don't.

And you still don't recognize the dark -haired lady, hmm?

Neighbors say it's your wife.

Suppose I say that it is.

Well, my suggestion would be that you come down to the DA's office.

You have some explaining to do.

All right, let's go.

Before you tell us what happened at the book attorney's office, Peter, let me

ask you something.

What made you lie to Leonard?

Myrna's phone call. She sounded like she was on some kind of a bind, and I

wanted to give her a chance to explain before I put the finger on her. I didn't

mean failing to identify the photograph. That's understandable.

Then why did you tell Leonard she wasn't in the apartment?

By then she'd told you everything was all right.

I didn't believe her. I still don't. You admitted at the district attorney's

office that you'd lied? About the photograph, yes, but I never said

about the phone call or her being in the apartment.

Look, I got to see her, Perry. Especially now that I know what's

Could that be counterfeit gambling chips?

How'd you know that, Mr. Drake?

Well, I've heard rumors that some of the Nevada clubs have taken a beating the

past few weeks. So Leonard asking you what kind of chips you could manufacture

sort of added up.

Well, the club's losses, according to the assistant district attorney, a man

named Cantwell, who talked to me, the amount was close to $200 ,000.

That is a beating.

And the authorities suspect, I take it, that you've been counterfeiting the

chips and that Myrna's been passing them.

Of course, I told Cantwell the whole idea was cockeyed.

Why would I risk a business that nets $50 ,000 a year for me to take a flyer

some fake gambling chips?

What did Cantwell say to that?

He asked my permission to examine my books and to search the plant. Of

said I couldn't do anything like that until I checked with you first.

I see no reason why you shouldn't give him permission.

But how is it he's handling the investigation instead of the police?

Well, I gather the people in Nevada feel there'll be less publicity.

That figures, Perry.

Does any of the wise boys there hate us for having known they've been played for

Tucker?

Yes, and more often than not, if they've been played for Tucker, they take care

of it themselves.

Then that's why Mrs. Warren was so frightened.

It appears so, Della.

We'd better get busy on this, Paul.

Find out how the racket was worked, the names of the gamblers who were fleeced,

where they took the photograph of Myrna.

And where they found the poker chip wrapper.

Everything he can run down.

Could mean going to Nevada.

That's all right.

In the meantime, Peter, if you're going back to talk to Bernard, let's go.

No, but you could have gone far and made coats in the hallway.

Why don't I wait here until she gets back, and then I'll give you a call.

All right, Tim.

Either call or bring her down to the office.

All right.

Make sure it's one of the other theater. I must talk to her.

All right.

about it. They may be here any minute.

Gamblers. And I don't know what they'll do.

Kill me, baby.

Please be here.

Please. You're the only one I can tell.

Anybody home?

Hi.

Long time no see.

Hello, Irene.

Is Myrna home? No, she isn't.

Oh.

She didn't get back then.

Apparently not.

Back from where?

Tahoe. I ran into her up at the Sierra Tahoe yesterday.

In fact, we were going to a show together until she skipped out on me to

home, I thought.

Well, apparently she went someplace else.

Did she say anything to you about being in trouble?

Why, what makes you ask that?

Oh, just something that happened this morning.

Well, she'd hardly confide in me. We're only friendly neighbors.

But you know, now that I stop to think about it, something sort of strange did

happen. What do you mean, strange?

Well, like I said, we were going to see a show together, and so she was going to

go cash in her chips. She was playing roulette.

But before she could, this odd -looking little man got a hold of her. Now, what

he said or did to her, I don't know, except she took off out of there like

seen a zombie. But this odd -looking little man, do you think you'd know him

again if you saw him?

Well, I think so.

Sure, I'll play ball with him. Why wouldn't I?

Right.

Well, Mr. Drake, Mr. Big and Reno says you're okay.

So, you're okay.

Sit down.

Thanks, sir.

But why no's around here?

After all, several of the other clubs in the area, they took a worse beating

than I did, or so I'm told.

Well, yours was the most recent, Mr. Saro, and $10 ,000 isn't exactly hay.

You can say that again.

All right.

What do you want to know?

Well, the woman who was passing the counterfeit chips got away, I was told.

Yeah, it's almost killing my friend here in the process.

How'd you get on to her in the first place? Well, that's Ned's department.

Do you want to tell him about it?

Well, we were watching for a hit after the others.

So when one of the croupiers reported a woman playing in an unusual way, betting

high and handsome for a couple hours, then leaving the table for a half hour

so, I pretty well knew.

What's so unusual about that?

The normal heavy gambler, Mr. Drake, never leaves the table until he's

playing. Oh.

So you think that the woman during those various half hours or so was

replenishing her supply of counterfeit chips?

Yeah. Cash in a minute at the rate of about three grand for each time out.

How come you or the cashier or somebody didn't spot the chips' traits when she

cashed them in?

Because they weren't.

I don't get it. The roulette table, Mr. Drake. That's where she was getting rid

of her chips.

An hour's heavy play, winning a little, losing a little. It didn't matter much,

and she had them all mixed in with the house chips.

But even so, I should think the croupier would have noticed.

Here, Mr. Drake, let me show you something.

Now, at least half of these chips are phony.

Let's see you pick them out.

They all look alike.

They are alike.

Perfect counterfeits? Not so tough to do, Mr. Drake.

Plastic like that you can buy anywhere. So all you need is a stamping machine

and somebody with the know -how to make a matching pattern.

If it's that easy, why hasn't it been done before?

It seems it has been at the other clubs.

No wonder they're mad. Oh, the photograph you took of the woman at the

table. Have you identified her through it yet?

Photograph? What photograph?

I thought you took a picture of her and also found a paper wrapper for some of

her chips.

You find any wrappers when you followed her?

No. All I found was that my skull wasn't as tough as I thought it was.

Then you still don't know who or where the woman is. No, and we couldn't care

less as long as she don't come back here.

A minute the boss wants to see you

What do you have?

Whiskey rocks, too.

How come you're here, Mr. Warren?

Well, I'm trying to backtrack on murder.

I thought I was doing that.

You following up something she told you and Barry?

No, we didn't get a chance to speak to her at all. We got to the apartment. She

was gone.

What brought you to this particular spot?

A neighbor friend of hers, Irene Prentiss, the blonde at the roulette

said she was here last night, so I thought this place would be a good place

pick up her trail.

Or at least find out who terrified her and why.

Does Barry know you're doing this?

No.

I don't think so.

You know, walking barefoot into a cage full of rattlesnakes is considerably

safer than nosing around an operation like this.

I'm willing to take the chance. I suppose I can talk you out of it.

How come you brought Miss Prentice along?

Irene said murder ran out of here in a state of panic after she spoke to some

man. And she's supposed to point this man out to you?

Mr. Warren, do you realize you both can end up in a ditch someplace?

Mr. Paul Drake.

Mr. Paul Drake. Yeah, over here.

Oh, Mr. Desmond, you can take it on the telephone over here. Thank you.

Be right back.

Mr.

Paul Drake, you have a call for me?

How'd you find me? Through your office, Paul.

Something's happened you should know about.

Before you get in too deep where you are.

Myrna Warren's been murdered.

Here in her apartment.

No, I don't know when.

Jacob Leonard, the investigator who called on Peter Warren, was with me when

found the body.

Yes, Leonard's already notified homicide.

And he agreed to let me call you so you wouldn't be running blind into what

might be a hornet's nest.

Well, I'm not the only one running into a hornet's nest.

Peter Warren's here.

No, he doesn't. He's trying to find her.

Paul, send him back in the first plane.

When the police discover he talked to her this morning and was possibly the

person to see her alive, they're going to want him.

Here, not in Nevada.

Fine.

Funny thing, isn't it, Mr. Mason?

When I took Warren down to the DA's office, he said he hadn't seen his wife.

Oh, uh, the fellow who was with me here, did you see where he went? No, sir, I

didn't, but I'm sure he'll be back. He hasn't finished his tea.

Peter, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it.

They told me if I didn't go out there and bring you back in... It's all right.

was coming in here anyway. Irene, there's a couple of questions I want to

Mr. Searle. Oh, yeah, and his friend here. His friend's name is Ned Beaumont.

Ask away. Now, wait a minute.

There's a couple of pertinent questions I'd like to ask first.

These zip wrappers, Mr. Warren, are they from your company?

Yes, they're my company's wrappers. Where'd you get them?

How do you like that, Ned?

Not only does he take us for ten grand, but he's got the gall to come back here

the next night and ask us where we got the wrappers for him.

What makes you so sure that I'm responsible for those wrappers?

Oh, nothing. Just that your company's name happens to be on them. The dame

passing the phony chips, your wife? Why wouldn't I be sure?

How'd you know she was my wife?

He tell you?

Yes, he told me. So what?

Well, that brings us to the jackpot question, Mr. Ciro.

Did he tell you who she was before or after he killed her?

Peter?

Vern is dead?

You shut up.

What about what he's saying, Ed?

Who is it?

Paul Drake.

What do you want?

I'd like to speak to Mr. Warren.

Warren?

Just a second.

I guess the man made a mistake.

I guess he did. Why don't you try the casino?

It makes me nervous.

You're not going to shoot us.

Whatever gave you that idea? The rod is just to buy a little time, that's all.

Well, Mr. Warren, did you say your wife was killed? Yes.

Tell us about it. What did Beaumont tell you about it? Never mind Beaumont. I'll

get around to him later. First you.

Now, what's the story?

She was killed this morning in Los Angeles in the bedroom of her apartment.

skull had been crushed by a blow from behind.

You mean she was lying there dead all the time we were talking?

Shut up, you.

And you found her then, right?

Yes, I found her about three minutes after I saw him leaving the apartment.

Well, Ned?

Yeah, he saw me, all right, but I wasn't coming out of the apartment. I never

got inside.

Nobody answered the doorbell.

How come you were ringing it in the first place?

You said I was to check on the company where the rappers came from.

And when I did, I found that Warren had a wife answering the description of the

brunette passing the chips.

So I thought I'd have a little talk with her.

Talk?

You were pretty mad at her last night, as I recall. What were you going to do,

pay her back for almost killing you? Don't you realize you could lose us our

license for getting mixed up in a murder?

Maybe you'd like me mixed up. And what does that mean?

When we split up at the L .A. airport this morning, you said you were going to

your sister's place.

When I called in the afternoon to see if you wanted to fly back with me, she

said she hadn't seen you.

You were pretty mad at that brunette, too, Tony.

Could it be you got to her before I did? Or you?

Range to the rescue.

Nobody here needs rescuing.

How'd you find out about that panel?

Mr. Bentley, who happens to be an investigator for the Strait Gaming

knows about the button under your desk.

How do you like that?

I know something else, too, Cyril.

A few minutes ago, I got a long -distance call from Jacob Leonard, who

be with the commission.

He's working with a Lieutenant Anderson of L .A. Homicide on the death of Mrs.

Peter Warren.

Lieutenant Anderson, pending issuance of a warrant for first -degree murder, has

asked us... to detain their suspect.

And who is that? Me or my associate?

Neither of you.

The warrant's being issued for Mr. Warren here.

I know I should have told you about her being in the bedroom, Perry, but, well,

I let her down so badly, accusing, quarreling with her when I should have

helping her.

I felt I could make it up to her.

Crazy idea at the time, I'll admit, but I knew you'd have to telephone the

police and then I wouldn't have a chance.

Fresh scratches on my face and telling Leonard that I hadn't seen her and lying

to the assistant district attorney.

They wouldn't have let me out of their sight.

Trouble is, Peter, Hamilton Berger will prosecute and has a different

explanation for your actions.

He believes you and Myrna were in the counterfeiting plot together.

And that when she became so frightened she was about to make a clean breast of

things, you killed her.

Well, how does he explain my coming to Nevada to find her killer?

A smoke screen?

To make people believe you were innocent.

Our immediate problem, however, is whether to waive extradition or to find

All right, Perry, let's waive it.

Let's see if Mr. Berger can make his explanation stand up in court.

In your opinion, Doctor, Mrs.

Warren died within seconds after being struck.

Within microseconds, Mr. Berger. To all intents and purposes, death was

instantaneous. Then there would have been no time for an outcry. No, not

possibly. Now, as to the murder weapon, which has so far not been discovered...

And, Doctor, from your examination of the wound, were you able to reach any

conclusion as to what type of weapon might have inflicted it? Well, a rod

laceration, some three inches in length, above the central area of impact,

strongly suggests the weapon was a revolver.

And the three -inch laceration would be the imprint of the barrel?

Exactly.

Now, in addition to the latent fingerprints left there by the

Did you find anything else in that apartment, Lieutenant Anderson?

An open handbag, a linen handkerchief.

Yes, sir, that's it.

Would you describe this handkerchief to the court, please? It's monogrammed PW,

and it's stained with human blood. When you say human blood, Lieutenant, that

means that you're able to identify the stains on this handkerchief because of

work done in the police laboratory?

Yes, we found it was type AB, the same blood type as that of the defendant.

All right, now the blood -stained handkerchief, the open pocketbook.

What else did you examine at the police lab?

Well, later, the coroner's office reported traces of blood and flesh

right -hand fingernails of the deceased, and we typed that in the lab, too. What

was the result?

We found it to be type A and B, the same blood type as that of the defendant.

I see.

Now, Lieutenant Anderson, let me ask you this.

Did you notice anything at all unusual, perhaps, about the appearance of the

defendant when he first arrived here from Nevada?

On his left cheek, there were three partially healed scratches.

The defendant denied to you that he knew the woman shown in this photograph

playing roulette?

Yes, when I talked to him in his office.

Afterwards, he admitted he'd lied.

Oh? When was that?

About a half an hour or so later, when I found him in his wife's apartment.

By then, of course, through her neighbors, I'd identified her as Mrs.

Now, at that time, did Mr.

Warren give you any explanation for his being at his wife's apartment?

Yes, he said he wanted to ask her about the photograph.

And did he say that he had asked her about it?

He said that she wasn't there.

Now, after he said that she wasn't there, what did you do, Mr. Leonard?

I brought him down to the office of your assistant, Mr. Cantwell.

But that wasn't the end of your connection with this matter, was it, Mr.

Leonard?

You mean running into Mr. Mason that night, ringing the apartment doorbell?

going in and finding the body?

Yes, and I also mean something that happened after that.

You mean the next day?

Lieutenant Anderson and I went down to Mr. Warren's plant.

I wanted to determine whether the equipment that he was using was capable

counterfeiting gambling chips. I found that it was.

And what else did you find at Mr. Warren's plant?

Anderson had a search warrant. I went through Warren's desk.

In one of the bottom drawers, under a pile of papers, I discovered two paper

-wrapped stacks of gambling chips.

I see.

Are these the packages you're referring to?

Yes. These ink dots are my identifying marks.

I opened one of them. Inside were gambling chips marked ST.

The ST, of course, standing for Sierra Towel Club.

You'll have to ask somebody who knows for sure, Mr. Berger.

I'm not asking you if this chip is counterfeit or not, Mr. Beaumont.

I'm simply asking you if it resembles the chips used at the Sierra Tahoe Club.

Well, does it?

I respectfully decline to answer on the grounds that it might tend to

incriminate me.

Incriminate you?

How could answering that question possibly incriminate you?

I respectfully decline to answer on the grounds that might tend to incriminate

me. This is perfectly incredible.

Mr. Mason, be my guest.

I see no point in attempting to question Mr. Beaumont in view of his present

attitude.

Mr. Bentley, you've told us of photographing Myrna Warren at the

and finding an empty chip wrapper in her rented car.

of buying chips from her in an effort to determine if they were counterfeit.

But you have not told us what made you single her out as a suspect.

Just her general behavior.

Why were you at the Sierra Tahoe Club that night?

Did you know she was going to be there?

Don't tell me you're going to refuse to answer on grounds of possible

incrimination.

No.

I was going to tell you I was sent there by the Nevada Gaming Commission.

Why were you sent there?

You'll have to ask the commission that, Mr. Mason.

Because you don't know or because you're not telling?

You'll have to ask the commission that, too, Mr. Mason.

You know, there's something very strange at the Nevada end of this. Something

both Beaumont and Bentley are trying to cover up.

You know, they have the whole weekend to work on it, but where do we start?

Perry. Couldn't you subpoena somebody from the Gaming Commission and make him

talk? Not without some difficulty, and just possibly there's an easier way.

Do you think finding out what's strange in Nevada will lead you to the real

killer? I know who the killer is, Paul.

You do?

Yes, but the difficulty is improving it.

Tell him, put in a call to the office of the Nevada Gaming Commission.

How about my friend in Reno, Mr. Big?

Good idea, Paul.

You tell his name and number.

Mr. Mason?

Look, even though you are Mr. Big around here, I don't have to sit still for

this. I got a right to see a lawyer at least.

You're apt to meet an undertaker, Saro, if you don't sit still.

And we have a lawyer.

Mr. Perry Mason here.

And what he asks, you answer.

Mr. Beaumont said you told him not to answer any questions in court, Mr.

Now, why did you do that?

Was it because you were afraid he might be forced under oath to reveal that you

were involved in a scheme to pass counterfeit gambling chips?

You had a blab, huh?

Yeah, Tony.

I advise you to blab, too, while you still have a chance.

Okay, I was involved.

Why?

Why were you involved?

Why? I'll tell you why.

A year ago when I opened my place, the other clubs sent their pros around to

and break me.

They took me for 40 grand at the crap table one night, almost 30 grand another

night, and a dozen or so smaller bites.

I was almost on the rocks.

Then I saw a chance to get myself clear and pay the other owners back for what

they did to me.

Your chance being someone with counterfeit chips?

Yes, which he said he made.

Some for my club, some for the other club.

They were so perfect, I couldn't tell them from the legitimate ones.

They said if I financed them for $10 ,000, he'd pass the fakes and cut me in

the take 50 -50.

You made out all right, Tony.

Half of what the other clubs lost adds up to close to $100 ,000.

That's a lot of malarkey.

They were just boosting their figures.

My half came to about $40 ,000.

Then your partner shortchanged you.

We audited their books and they lost what they said they lost.

Mr. Serra, this partner, who is he?

Warren, the man you're defending.

That's not possible.

You'd never seen him nor he you until two nights ago.

Are you sure this man who brought the counterfeit gambling chips around wasn't

woman?

Whatever gave you that idea?

I did some checking on you, Mr. Serra.

For five years, you ran a gambling casino in Haiti.

And during that period, you married and later divorced a woman named Irene

Prentiss.

All right, I did hold back certain things when I testified Friday, but,

just didn't think they'd help.

What were these things you held back, Miss Prentiss?

Well, that I had once been married to Mr. Serrell, and that I...

And that you went to him with a scheme to pass counterfeit chips.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, that was Myrna Warren's idea.

She told me about it, so I introduced her to Tony.

Mr. Saro, I mean.

And they took it from there. That's all I know about it. Then your encounter

with Mrs. Warren the night she fled from the Sierra Tahoe Club was purely

accidental.

Yes. And your going back to the club the next day with Peter Warren was also

accidental?

Well, no, not exactly. I let him talk me into going back so that I could see

what he was up to.

By then, of course, you knew Myrna Warren was dead.

Oh, no.

No, if I'd known that, I would have called the police.

Your investigation of the losses suffered by the various clubs indicated

blonde woman was passing the chips?

Yes.

And you suspected a connection between her and Tony Serra?

That's why I was watching his club.

That's why I was surprised when a brunette apparently was passing the

there. That didn't fit you.

So you photographed her in an effort to identify her?

Yes. And sent it and the Warren Nowell Company chip wrapper I found in her car

to Mr. Berger's office.

Believing that Mr. Warren might be making the counterfeit chips.

There were no counterfeit chips, Mr. Mason.

You mean the ones that were being passed were genuine?

Yes. Now, how could that have been?

It was some six months ago, a truck carrying gambling equipment to a Reno

wholesaler overturned and burned on the freeway just outside of Los Angeles.

The entire confinement, which included boxes of gambling chips for many clubs,

was officially certified destroyed.

But you think some of those chips were not destroyed?

That's right, Mr. Mason.

Maybe Tony Serro can tell you about them.

No, I don't know where the chips came from. But I can tell you this.

Irene was the one who came to me with the scheme to pass them.

That would be Irene Prentiss.

Yes. She was the one who actually passed them. When the heat came on and Bentley

started hanging around my place, she came up with the idea of framing Mrs.

Warren. She gave her the chips to play with and planted the wrappers in her

What was your part in this?

Well, just to catch Mrs. Warren, let her get away, and then report it.

That way it looked like I'd been taken like the others and the heat would be

off.

Yes, I gave her the chips.

I told her they were counterfeit, but she didn't care. She was hooked on

gambling.

And if it had worked the way it had been planned... Didn't it work the way it

had been planned?

Wasn't murder the culmination of that plan?

The plan to prevent her from revealing it was you who gave her the chips?

Oh, no.

No, I didn't kill her. I didn't.

Then who did, Miss Prentiss?

Who did kill her?

Well, I don't know.

I think you do.

Who brought the chips to you in the first place?

Who sent you to Saro for financing?

Who suggested framing Myrna Warren?

It was Jacob Leonard, wasn't it?

This is crazy.

She's just shooting wild, trying to get off the hook.

This is the report made to the Los Angeles Department of Licenses and

a truck accident Mr. Bentley told us about. It certifies the truck's

of gambling equipment was completely destroyed by fire.

It bears your signature.

Let me show you something else.

Records of deposits in five savings and loan associations in Orange and San

Diego counties.

Each for $10 ,000 and each in the name of Jay Leonard.

And doubtless there are more.

Why couldn't you have left well enough alone, Mr. Leonard?

Why couldn't you have left murder out of it?

All right.

But I didn't kill Mrs. Warren.

How could I have?

She was alive when I talked to Mr. Warren in her apartment.

He'll tell you that.

And then we went right down to the DA's office.

And I was there the rest of the day.

How do you get around that, Mr. Mason?

By something you overlooked.

What was that?

The scratches on Peter Warren's face. You had to pretend not to see them.

Because asking about them would have made him admit his wife was in the

apartment, then you would have had to question her.

Which was the very last thing in the world you wanted to do, because Mrs.

was dead.

No, that's not true!

But it is.

Now, you reached the apartment first.

He warned her not to talk.

You watched while she did her best to convince her husband nothing was wrong.

And then you killed her.

You went out through the bedroom window, around to the front of the apartment

where you rang the doorbell.

You know, if it weren't for those scratches, you might have gotten away

murder.

She would have told him everything.

Just as soon as I left, I couldn't have that.

I just couldn't have that.

Not only is the Gaming Commission grateful to you, Mr. Mason, for clearing

things up, but so is Tony Zarro.

That's the carte blanche invitation to enjoy his club. No expense.

He's still being allowed to operate?

Oh, yeah. It's under supervision.

As soon as he pays back the other club owner's losses.

Should take about two years. Then the commissioner will decide what to do

his license.

It's a very practical solution.

We're very practical people.

Tell me something.

Those two stacks of wrapped gambling chips that Leonard found in Mr. Warren's

desk, he planted them?

Planted by Leonard and found by Leonard at the same time.

Where'd he get the wrappers from?

Oh, he was very shrewd.

He simply bought a number of the Warren Company's regular poker chips and used

the wrappers.

Simple as that, huh?

Well, enjoy yourself.

How did he do that?

He's one of the world's expert gamblers, Della.

That's why the Nevada Gaming Commission employs him.

I understand there are two Australian engineers who figured out a way to beat

this machine, but Bentley's got to be way ahead of them. I wish somebody would

show me the trick.

I always get the lemon.