Original subtitles

you

Barley Ford, chief of police, city of Costa Rica.

I've admitted into evidence in this inquest your official report of Lucius

Ballinger's death.

Is this indeed your statement?

Yeah. Matter of fact, most of my testimony is based on Claude Graham's

Claude being the only eyewitness.

Then your testimony concerning the circumstances of death would only

Graham's? Yep. You were acquainted with the deceased?

From the day he got here.

Big book writer from New York.

Claimed he was down here conducting research.

Boiled down, he was looking to pick my brain.

For the record, Chief, the research that Mr. Ballinger was doing for his book...

involved the slayings of Eric Bell and Rita Davenport last year?

Yep. He told me the murder of Mr. Bell and his secretary was a capricious act

wanton butchery fostered by a climate of violence.

He was some talker.

I see.

You saw him fairly often after that?

All the time.

He interviewed everybody in town, particularly bartenders.

He interviewed a lot of bartenders.

Some of the witnesses intimated that Mr. Ballinger's drinking habits may have

been contributory to the explosion of his boat.

Makes sense, don't it? Fellow gets a little sauced up, forgets about such

as gas fumes in the bilge, doesn't turn on the ventilation blowers.

Ker -boom.

No further questions.

I see that there's a lot of newspaper reporters from out -of -town papers.

I got something I'd like to say to them.

All right, Chief.

Thank you.

Last year...

You guys had a high old time with Costa Real.

The Bell murders set off a ruckus that carried clear across the whole country.

Barney, the purpose of this... Now, Lucius Ballinger, just like the rest of

reporters, rest his soul, he's going to solve the case and make himself famous

by writing a book about it.

Now, the Bell murders ain't going to be solved in no book or on television or on

the newspapers. It's going to be solved by police work.

That means me.

I already got a line on them two transits and did it.

Now, I hope when the hearing comes to the decision of accidental death, you

reporters go back to your big cities and let this peaceful little town get back

to its old ways and let me get on with my work.

Thank you.

I have one last witness to call, Mrs. Celia Bell.

I'll make this as easy as I can for you, Mrs. Bell.

Would you state your name and occupation for the record, please?

Celia Bell.

Occupation?

Widow.

Well, let the record show that Mrs. Bell is the widow of the late Eric Bell.

Mrs. Bell, the purpose of this inquest is to establish the cause of Lucius

Ballinger's death.

Now, you've heard the testimony of the other witnesses.

Is there anything you might care to add that would help us reach a verdict?

when no one mentioned that he was a witty, dedicated, thoughtful man who

drank, as they say, but who was desperately worried about the increase

violence in our society.

Did you see him the day of his death?

Yes, he came to my home.

He'd finished his book and he was on his way to New York to see his publisher.

And he brought a bottle of champagne.

And then only about an hour after he left, I

heard... Mrs. Bell, it's all right. You may be excused. Thank you.

What do you do with a 12 -year -old rich kid whose mama finds 37 transistor

radios in his dresser drawer and no sales slip?

You're not a reporter. The knees of your pants don't bag.

What are you selling?

Lucius Ballinger's publisher sent me to bring back his personal effects.

Inflammable or non -inflammable? Because whatever could burn dead, what didn't

burn sunk.

He lived in a boat. The boat blew up, boy.

Nothing recovered, huh?

The boatyard's got what was still there floating. You published interest in

that? No, not really.

Did he ever work anywhere but on that yacht office, maybe?

Not that I know of. Why?

Well, I was wondering what might have happened to his carbon copy of the

manuscript.

Carbon copy.

Yeah, he always kept one.

Carbon copy, you sure?

Like you said at the inquest, Chief.

Ballinger was a lush, but he was also a first -class writer.

He was really two men.

The sober Lucius didn't trust the drunk Lucius. He always made a carbon copy,

and he always kept it where he wouldn't be likely to find it when he got loaded,

tear it up, throw it away, or burn it.

You're out of luck, boy. It didn't work anywhere else.

Did he have a safety deposit box?

Nope. Mail drop?

Nope.

Chief, uh, Claiborne Publications advanced...

Ballinger, $5 ,000.

He sent them everything but the last chapter.

I'm being paid to find that last chapter.

Mr. Claiborne's a bit sticky about publishing books without endings.

How much do you make a day, boy?

$100 a day plus expenses.

That's $5 ,050 went down the drain.

You tell them Barney Ford told them not to toss good money after bad.

$5 ,050?

Yeah, that $50 is your half -day pay.

If you left now, you could get back to the big city in

time for lunch.

Steve.

Mr. Mannix.

There was an extra that came out the morning after the Bell Yacht murders.

I was only a reporter then, but the story got me a wire service byline.

There it is.

Biggest thing ever to hit Costa Real.

And I had an exclusive.

A real newspaperman's dream, wasn't it?

Right. And I fixed it so the witnesses would only talk to me.

I didn't realize there were any witnesses.

Well, not eyewitnesses, exactly.

Two -column ten -point head on that.

But Tommy Carr was asleep below decks.

He woke up in time to see the two killers when they rode away.

Tommy Carr?

Yeah. Used to be a deckhand on board the Bell Yard.

And now?

Now? Now he owns his own nightclub, Tommy's.

He can afford his own boat.

You said witnesses.

Who else?

Well, Chief Ford, for another.

Only he wasn't a chief then.

He was just a cop.

And he remembered seeing two tranchants out by the bus station.

They made up some composite pictures from his descriptions.

But so far, no luck.

But if they ever find him, you've got yourself another big yarn.

Ah, that was a year ago. That story's dead.

Suddenly, so is Lucius Ballinger.

I wonder if you could direct me to Mrs. Bell's home.

My name is Mannix.

She's not home.

Must still be at the inquest. Oh, the inquest's over.

Yeah?

How did it come out?

Accidental death.

Was there ever any doubt?

Mind if I wait?

No, but it'll have to be out here.

I can't let you through until Mrs. Bell gets home.

That's fair enough.

I'd like to talk to you anyway.

He was down at the boatyard snooping around the boundary rack. I thought

Before that, you were at the bank earlier, the newspaper.

Well, seeing that the verdict was already in, I didn't think you'd mind.

Well, the fact is, I do mind.

He was at the court. You know how we feel about foreigners snooping around.

Foreigners? Is Los Angeles another country?

So I took a look at the boat. What's the big deal?

Now, look, Ford, why don't you just let me find my little old last chapter and

go back to my foreign country, huh?

He's talking to Claude here. What about?

About seeing Celia Bell.

You'll leave her alone, yeah?

She's had enough trouble already.

She's the only lead I have.

Hey, Ed.

Well, now, that seems sort of, uh, unfriendly.

It wasn't meant to be unfriendly.

It was meant as a threat.

I have a call for you, Mrs. Bell.

Thank you.

Hello?

Mrs. Bell, this is Joe Mannix. I was wondering if you had any intention of

returning my handkerchief.

I'm sorry, your handkerchief?

No, I think I'd better...

We have ways of dealing with people like you.

I'm sorry, I don't... Oh, Mr.

Mannix, you're a total kook.

How did you know I was here?

Turn around.

Well, are you going to send the waiter over for it?

Or would you care to join me?

Now then, let's start all over again. I'm Joe Mannix, and you are Celia Bell,

the notorious handkerchief thief.

I'm not sure I can even say that.

Handkerchief.

Ah, here we are.

Two, um, first meetings.

Oh, I like what you said about Ballinger this morning.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, that was pitiful.

I was trying to say something nice about him because nobody else would, and I

just botched up the whole thing.

Oh, that's par for the course.

Why were you there, Joe?

Did you know Luke?

No, no, but in a way I'm sort of working for him.

I'm a private detective.

Well, then you're not here for strictly social reasons.

Does that bother you?

No.

Um, I suppose you want to ask me some questions?

I suppose I should, I guess, seeing that Claiborne Publications is picking up

the tab.

Now then, ma 'am, would you have any idea where Lucius Ballinger might have

a copy of his manuscript?

No.

Why?

Because his publisher never got the last chapter.

Sorry.

Next question.

What are you doing the rest of the evening?

Well, that's not a detective type question.

It isn't?

I just don't think I'll ever get the hang of this business.

On the contrary, Joe.

I'm sure you're very good at what you do.

Mr. Bigelow, this is Toby.

I'm at the Marina Lounge.

Mrs. Bell has been here drinking.

She just left with some guy.

I feel positively racy.

Yeah, why?

Because I'm a pickup.

Well, fortunately, there's no law against that. I hope.

Otherwise, I've had it.

Why? Well, I had a little talk with Chief Ford today.

He puts me in that foreigner category. You know, the same one he had Luke

Ballinger in.

Luke.

Poor, poor Luke.

That's true. I just wasn't ready for him.

Oh, hey, now, wait a minute.

Take a trip again, please.

Yes, I know that.

Not again, he won't. I'm picking up Toby. Me and him will take care of him.

No, sir.

Toby, describe him. It's Mannix, all right.

Did you know Ballinger before he came to Costa Real?

Oh, no.

Oh, no, before I met him, I was going to sue him. One of the victims he was

writing about was my husband.

Well, we all thought he was going to write just another shoddy expose, but

I got to know him, and I knew he wasn't that kind of a writer.

He felt it wasn't who that was murdered that was important, but why.

And there wasn't any why.

So that's when he decided to write a study in violence.

Well, I hope someday I'll get a chance to read it, including the last chapter.

Well, perhaps you will.

Someday.

Well, now, what about our date?

Date? Yeah. Well, how about Tommy Carr's place?

Tommy? Yeah, sure. I hear he waters down his drinks less than any place in the

southern western states.

Now, what do you say?

Well, Tommy's isn't open until after six.

Great. You can show me a beautiful Costa Real until six.

Tommy, you all should have called sooner. I didn't know who he was. I

know who he was, Mr. Bigelow.

Thank you for picking me up, Joe.

You know, it's been so long since I've had a good time that I don't even know

how to behave.

Joe, how long are you staying here?

Well, I don't know for sure until I find a copy of the last chapter, I guess.

Are you sure there is one?

Well, they tell me that Ballinger got lushed once.

And he made confetti out of 376 pages of a new manuscript.

No carbon copy.

It took ten months to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. I think the lesson

stuck.

I hope you get what you want, Joe.

Cheers.

Excuse me, sir, but I creased your fender when I was parking your car

the seawall.

Could you come with me for just a minute?

Well, that's all right. Just forget about it.

I represent at least 16 insurance companies.

It could mean my job, sir. Please.

I'll be right back.

Enjoying yourself, Celia?

Yes, I am.

Is there anything wrong with that?

Nothing. Except the man you're with is a private detective.

I know that.

And I haven't told him anything.

May I remind you, Celia, the supreme penalty in the state of California is

the gas chamber.

Over here, sir.

if it isn't the Transistor King.

Say, Chief, did you ever get that 12 -year -old kid run out of town

successfully?

Kind of edgy this morning, ain't you?

Did you have a bad night?

No, no worse than the days.

You mind getting on your jacket and shoes?

That check -out time isn't until 3 o 'clock.

Mr. Bigelow, you don't like to be kept waiting, you hear me?

Mr. Mannix, James Claiborne. Oh, yes, sir. Good morning.

Young man, when I hired you, we both thought this was a more or less routine

investigation and recovery assignment.

But we don't anymore, do we? Mr. Mannix, I have with me Robert Edward Ferris,

the author.

He was a close personal friend of Luke Ballinger.

And he tells me that Luke called him a few days before the accident.

He told him that he had solved the Bell murder case.

It is more than likely, young man, that his death was no accident.

Now, get that missing chapter back, but for heaven's sake, be careful.

Do you need anything?

Money, manpower, anything at all? Oh, no, no, sir, not a thing.

This is just a carefree little town with peaceful ways, shady streets, and plain

folks.

Are you serious, Mr. Mannix? Not a bit, Mr. Claiborne.

Bye.

Well, ask Barney Ford to wait.

Outside.

Come in, Mr. Mannix.

I'm George Bigelow. How do you do?

Thank you for coming.

Please sit down.

Oh, thank you.

For me?

On what?

I'll come right to the point, Mr. Mannix.

What's your game?

By that, I assume you mean what am I doing in Costa Real?

I think you already know that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been invited.

Of course.

You're looking for the last chapter in the Bellinger fable based on the Bell

yacht murders.

It's close enough.

Will you be paid whether or not you find it?

You said you'd get right to the point.

Well, that is the point, Mr. Mannix.

This check... is drawn in your favor at the amount of $10 ,000.

And all I have to do is not find what I'm looking for, right?

Precisely.

Why?

Eric Bell and I founded what today is Bigelow Oil.

Not long ago, two transients boarded Eric's yacht and killed him and his

secretary. There was no money, Mr. Mannix, no motive.

The town was shocked and frightened and hurt by the sensationalism. Just as we

were returning to normal, Lucius Ballinger arrived to remind everyone

Real was a butcher's block under the guise there was some important social

comment to be made.

Take the check, Mr. Mannix.

Forget about the manuscript.

Give us a chance to heal.

I'm sorry, Mr. Bigelow.

I can't accept this.

Why, Mr. Mannix?

Ethics?

Have you tried going to the bank with ethics lately?

I have tunnel vision, Mr. Bigelow. I can only see the work one side of the

street at a time.

I'd like to see Mrs. Bell.

Mrs. Bell left word she don't want any visitors.

Maybe you better pick up that phone and ask her. She left a message at my motel.

That's no visitors, Mannix.

Just between us hometown boys, Claude. Is that no visitors or no visitors named

Mannix? That's no visitors at all.

I'm proud of you, Claude.

You work well.

He's all right. Been drinking again.

Look, I know what to do.

Stop worrying, Barney.

Okay. Okay.

I got your message, but I had a little trouble getting past the palace guard.

Toby?

He's tied up outside.

Filed under his alias.

Oh, Joe.

Would you like a drink?

Maybe later.

You all right?

Well, I'm kind of...

Oh,

Joe, I lied to you.

About, uh, Luke Ballinger?

I... I know more than I told you, Joe, much more.

For instance, I, uh... I knew where he

worked.

When he wasn't on his yacht.

Where did he work?

In the studio.

Behind the garage.

Then you do know something about the carbon of the last chapter.

I know all about it.

The publisher's already got this.

What I need for the last chapter.

Gin is sin.

That was Luke's sense of humor.

Luke Ballinger lost his life over these pages.

I hate to spoil it for you, Joe, but I can tell you how it all comes out.

The wife did it.

I killed both of them.

Hey, Claude, you seen him? He tried to get in to see her, but I wouldn't let

in. If he comes back again, you know what to do.

How did Ballinger know you did it?

Oh, I sort of let it slip one night.

I didn't have too much to drink.

It was so obvious, the way he picked up on it.

And I was relieved.

I make such a rotten murder joke.

Guilt, guilt, guilt.

You didn't read this.

Well, I didn't have to read it.

I lived it.

I know what it says.

What does it say?

Oh, Joe, you just read it?

Yeah, I know, but you tell me.

Once upon a time, once upon an ugly time, there

was a princess, and one day she went aboard her magic yacht,

and there she found her husband and his secretary together.

And, of course, I should have left right then and there.

But he laughed at me.

He laughed and he laughed.

And then that tramp, that girl, even she started to giggle.

And, of course, I couldn't stand that. And I went after her. And then he hit

He knocked me down.

And there was a knife on the bar.

And?

And that was all.

All?

Well, that's all I can remember.

Oh, I guess I need some more.

Now you tell me the whole thing.

Joe, I don't remember the whole thing.

Not after he hit me.

Nothing?

Joe, I was in a daze.

And I vaguely recall there's screams and crashes and things. And then I

started to come out of it. And I had the knife in my hand. And Joe,

the boat, it was just in shambles.

And Eric.

Both of them were dead.

Oh, that's beautiful.

Just beautiful.

Little old you killed two people in a fight that left the boat in shambles.

Well, Joe, is it all in there?

No, not even a comma. If Luke knew, Luke didn't talk.

You weren't even mentioned in this. Nobody was mentioned except the two

transients. There's 25 pages of pure oatmeal, a complete whitewash.

You know, for a dedicated first -class writer who had the case wrapped up, Luke

Ballinger sure sold out.

Well, maybe, maybe he was just trying to protect me.

No. No, I think he had the case solved. That's why he was killed.

The wife didn't do it. You were framed.

This chapter's a phony.

Somebody played it both ways.

If I went back without any evidence, they'd be in the clear.

If I stuck around and found this phony and took it back to Claiborne, they'd

still be in the clear.

Now, somebody's still got the genuine last chapter.

Since we both know that, I'd better get you out of here.

understand they're my friends. They wouldn't hurt me. Celia, somebody got

off that boat and then dreamed up the two transits and it wasn't to save your

life.

But Joe, Joe, you don't understand.

They are my friends.

Why if it hadn't been for George Bigelow?

George Bigelow was helping?

Oh, with your friends, Celia, a gal don't hardly need no enemies.

For one, we got Barney Ford, friendly, apple -stealing cop on the beat who

suddenly becomes chief of police. And then, of course, we got the plain old

common Tommy, boy deckhand, who now owns a big, sexy nightclub.

And then, of course, we have fast -thinking George Bigelow who writes

$10 ,000 like I put pennies in parking meters.

Oh, you owe him a lot.

Everybody's got what they want. And Celia, she's got her whiskey and guilt.

Well, Joe, what do we do now?

We keep the door locked, especially to friends.

I'll be back when I get back.

Dr. Preston, hold the... Hold the... What is that line, Archer? Mannix.

I'm sorry I didn't hear you come in.

I'm too busy trying to...

Woo the muses.

What can I do for you? Do you have a page projector?

Yeah. Oh, great. We're in business. I'd like to use it.

This is a page from the first chapter of Luke Bellinger's manuscript.

Oh, just concentrate on the words I've circled.

Now, all the letters nice and clear?

Seem to be.

Blow it up, will you?

Still nice and clear?

Yeah.

How do the A's look to you?

About like the others.

That's because Ballinger typed on Peck, you know, with the two index fingers.

Now, when you type Hunt and Peck, you hit the keys with equal force, and all

the letters are equally clear.

Adding up to what?

Let's take a look at this one.

Now, that's from the last chapter of Ballinger's manuscript.

You notice any difference?

None to speak of.

Okay, let's blow it up and take a closer look.

You notice the words real and anger?

What about them?

How do the A's look to you?

They look kind of washed out.

That's because this page, from the last chapter, was typed by a touch typist.

I still don't get it. A touch typist uses his little fingers to reach the

outside keys, which means a slightly longer reach for slightly shorter

Result?

A slightly lighter stroke.

But then you know that, don't you? You're a touch typist yourself.

Pretty good one from what I saw.

What does that prove, Mannix?

Well, both the first and last chapter were written on the same machine, but by

different people.

Then who wrote the last chapter?

You did.

Now call the sheriff's office and ask for Captain McCuffrey and tell him the

whole messy story.

I didn't write it.

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

Who in Costa Real had the know -how to fake Ballinger's literary style?

Fred Archer, local writer, reporter, editor.

And you wrote it because you were covering up something in the Bell case.

Either murder or complicity in murder. Which is it?

You were just a reporter when you were covering the Bell Yacht murders.

Our jury's going to be awfully curious to know how you managed to buy the

Chronicle right after that.

What you use for money.

Now, you want to tell me about it?

All right, Archer.

You play it your way.

The typewriter will probably tie you into it anyway.

What typewriter? The one in Celia Bell's studio. The typewriter you used to

write the phony last chapter. Your fingerprints are probably all over. Now,

you decide to talk about it, you can call me at Captain McGuffery's office.

Better level with me, Archer.

When you found out there was a carbon copy around I might dig up, you raced

to Celia's and whapped out a new ending for me to find, right?

Well... Right, and you're it.

You're the chief new suspect in the Belliot murders.

And George Bigelow and Barney Ford will be sitting in a spectator section

smiling. You know, on a second thought, Archer, you better not call me.

Call Dial -A -Prayer.

Mannix!

I didn't know they'd kill Ballinger.

I saw Ballinger waiting for a cab.

He was on his way to Celia's.

I picked him up, and we got to talking.

Well, you know, one writer to another.

And then all of a sudden, he blurted out the whole thing.

Which is what?

He cracked the case.

He had Chief Ford and Bigelow nailed dead to rights.

He knew they'd killed Eric Bell and his secretary.

That they'd framed Celia and were blackmailing her.

That poor slob had everything.

All written down on paper.

Why did they kill Bell and his secretary?

Bell had his hand in the till.

He and his secretary were running off with the company money. A big chunk of

Bigelow and Ford found out about it and they went out to grab him. But Bell

wouldn't be grabbed, so they killed him.

And Celia, she was already half unconscious.

So when she came to, why, they just let her think she'd done it.

How did you get hooked into it? Tommy Carr, he was asleep, low decks.

Heard the fight, saw what happened, and jumped overboard.

Came straight to me. One step ahead of Bigelow and Ford.

And sweet, generous George Bigelow offered to set you both up in business,

When I pointed out to him, it was a lot simpler than...

Killing us both.

And more rewarding.

I dreamed up those tranchants for him.

And the idea of faking the last chapter to throw me off.

You kept the original copy for a little more blackmail leverage.

Where is it, Archer?

In the safe.

link on paper one -dimensional concoctions of wily minds.

These fictions on Barney Ford's office wall exist only as fictions on office

walls. These back -alley transients depicted on poster and in the shallow

folklore of Costa Real exist only as folklore.

Belliot murderers are, their authors, the draftsmen of death.

He's quite a talker.

Consider now the roles played in this fantasy by the unholy trinity of George

Bigelow, Barney Ford, And Tommy Carr.

Give him the manuscript and everything he's read.

I had to stall him, Barney.

I knew you were coming.

All right, Archer, now make your phone call.

Are you coming back to Costa Real?

For the trial.

Not for any other reason?

Like your former chief of police said, I'm a foreigner here.

Besides, you've got responsibilities now, Celia. A million -dollar

and million -dollar decisions.

I need all the help I can get.

Oh, I'm afraid that life in a 90 % tax bracket just isn't my scene. I mean,

do I know from oil depletion allowances and... Barrels per day.

What you mean is you're just a wildcatter, Joe.

You're a free soul.

Well, that's not all bad.

Kind of sad, though, don't you think?

I mean, you being such a free soul and all that, and I can't be.

That's kind of sad.

Yeah.

Yeah, it is.

On handkerchiefs, please.