Original subtitles

The wind off the desert cut through the morning like a white -hot machete.

It turned the palms on my patio into blind, ancient fingers scratching at my

window.

Wow.

Talk about imagery.

Blind, ancient fingers.

If God had wanted us to work 40 -hour weeks, he wouldn't have created writers

like Adrian Harlow.

I started reading mysteries when I was eight.

I discovered Harlow when I was 16.

The Cold Steel Farewell was the 14th Sam Chandler novel, and the best of the

lot, also the last.

Then she blew back into my life, even hotter than that desert wind.

Her name was Violet.

Sorry, I'm late. Hey, slow down, slow down. Everything's under control.

He's not here yet?

She just left.

She? Yeah.

You didn't call, so I took the meeting alone. What happened to you? Fall down a

manhole or something?

No, I just, I got caught up in something.

Wait, that she was R .J. Simmons?

Yeah.

Roberta June Simmons.

From Dunkirk Press?

Yes.

Where does it say that the editor of crime fiction has to be a man?

Tell me about it. I'm sorry I missed... Crime fiction?

Yeah.

Did you ever hear of a writer named Adrian Harlow?

You're kidding.

No, I'm not.

What do you think I was caught up in?

The Cold Steel Farewell. It's the one where Sam Chandler gets amnesia after

old girlfriend Violet... Yeah, thank you, but I got the synopsis on that from

Roberta along with most of the rest of them. She's just about as big a fan as

you are. What did she want?

One of his books was stolen.

You mean plagiarized? No, I mean stolen. The manuscript, the words, you know,

the pages, stolen or lost.

But Harlow's been gone for years.

True, but Roberta's just gotten her hands on a letter that he wrote to his

ex -wife, and in it he mentions a 15th Sam Chandler novel, one that nobody even

knew about, a thing called The Long Hard Pavement.

Now, he says that he shipped it off to Dunkirk Press sometime in April 1948.

That would be just...

Just before he disappeared.

Right. But Dunkirk Press says they never got it. They never even knew it

existed.

But evidently that's sort of the way he worked. He was kind of eccentric.

Oh, boy, that's an understatement.

A man used to go off for months at a time. His own agent didn't even know he

dead or drunk or what. And all of a sudden, bam, out of the blue, he'd show

with a completed novel.

But one day in 1948, he didn't show up at all.

Wait a minute.

Are you telling me that there is an entire Sam Chandler novel

out there just waiting to be read?

Yep. After 40 years?

Yep.

Can you imagine how valuable that would be? Can you imagine how hard it would be

to find? Of course you told her we probably wouldn't be interested. You

told her that we probably wouldn't be. Rick, we're talking about a literary

masterpiece. It's a book. It would be like recovering the Mona Lisa. One lousy

little book, a couple of hundred. It's a manuscript.

That has been lost for 40 years.

And it's in L .A.

A .J.

L .A.

The big smoggy, and we are redefining needle in a haystack here. One of us has

got to go up there. Have you forgotten our last trip to Los Angeles?

Oh, come on. That was a fluke.

It was a fluke. Getting into two fender benders with one rent -a -car, that

could have been a fluke. Yeah. Getting chased by the devil's disciples and

getting shot at twice was not a fluke.

No.

Rick, we're talking about Adrian Harlow.

I would take this case for free.

Fine.

Do it.

Okay.

Actually, I want another truth.

It worked out better this way because one of us has to stay here and test him

in that Gorgonzola business.

I've always loved Los Angeles.

Disneyland. Hollywood Bowl.

Moody's. Rodeo tailoring. Just call her and tell her I'm on my way.

Rayatar pits.

The old Harlow House in Silver Lake was as good a place to start as any.

I'd heard it hadn't been lived in since the day he faded to parts unknown.

And so I found myself drifting north, alone.

Nothing but a change of clothes, half a tank of gas, a .38.

See, Rick was wrong about L .A.

I never believed it held any jinx for us.

Cars and I get along great.

Like antique bone china gets along with baseball bats.

Need a lift, Benson?

Excuse me?

Hot day, hot pavement.

Hop in.

I think it's just a hose.

I hope that's all it is.

That's never all it is.

Private eye, huh?

That's right.

What about you? You just drive off to some movie set somewhere?

No, I'm still waiting to be discovered.

I can't believe that.

You're very beautiful.

Didn't they ever teach you in detective school that talk like that can lead to

trouble?

I can handle trouble.

I better be on my best behavior.

Oh! What? Got a problem?

No, I just... I remember I left my suitcase in the car with all my stuff.

Hey, what are you doing? What's it look like I'm doing, Sherlock? I'm taking you

back. Aw, come on.

That really isn't necessary.

I know.

Guess I'm just a big -hearted gal.

I guess you are.

Thank you. I'm not doing it for the thanks.

Stop right here!

Was it something I said?

My car.

It's gone.

From the looks of things, they boosted cars in the City of Angels faster than a

smile leaves a b -girl's lips.

One more thing I wouldn't be in a hurry to tell Rick about.

I wouldn't want him to get too cozy with the I -told -you -sos.

How could he just disappear so fast?

Looks like you've got some detecting to do after all, Seamus.

I'll let the cops handle this one.

Now, let me just get to my phone.

Well, where are you headed eventually?

Silver Lake eventually. I live there.

Really? Mm -hmm.

Well, I guess I could call from there.

I live on Catherwood Drive.

If you're real nice, I might give you the number.

Catherwood?

That's the street I'm looking for.

Golly crap.

What a coincidence.

Any chance of seeing you again?

I'd say there's a very good chance.

Hey.

What's your name?

Violet.

Violet.

It was the kind of place that looked old when it was new, but it didn't look

vacant, much less unoccupied for four decades.

Somebody somewhere had a lot of explaining to do.

Excuse me.

I'm looking for... I'm looking for the Harlow house.

Not anymore, you're not.

Now listen, son, I have to be somewhere in a hurry.

I already have a subscription to call you, as you don't look like a process

service, so if you don't mind... My name is Simon.

A .J. Simon. I've been hired by Dunkirk Press.

Well, good for you. You found me. Well, you want an egg in your beer, you tell

Harvey I'll call him next week. You don't understand. I'm a private

investigator.

Well, you haven't exactly done your homework real well, have you?

Didn't any of them tell you I've been known to shoot at trespassers?

Hey!

Wait! Hold it!

Hey!

You're... You're Adrian Harlow.

You mean you're supposed to be tailing a fella and you don't even know his own

fizz when you trip over it?

But you're... I mean, you're... You're so well preserved.

Well, son, when you've been pickled as many times as I have, that just kind of

comes natural.

No, but I mean, you're supposed... We... You disappeared.

Well, so I crawl inside a bottle every once in a while and stay there for a

couple of days meeting about a million other fellas.

Ah!

It's about the long, hard pavement. Oh, I turned that in a long time ago.

Is this going to take all day?

I'm not sure.

Well, you know about that piece of junk, I guess you must be legit.

I don't normally do this, but I don't know, I feel sorry for you or something.

Anyhow, you take this, you go inside there, you make yourself at home, and

straighten all of this out, whatever it is.

as soon as I get back.

Oh, and if you talk to Harvey, would you tell him something for me?

You tell him I'm tired of waiting for my check.

I'll bet.

First my car, now Harlow.

My head felt like Marciano's light bag after a heavy workout.

Two hours in L .A. and already I was wishing I'd listened to Rick.

Does this guy keep his...

There

was something

definitely not kosher going on here.

How could a guy as famous as Adrian Harlow just drop off the face of the

for over 40 years and yet be living in L .A. all that time?

My head was spinning like a Glenn Miller 78.

I needed something to clear it.

If I could just manage a cold shower, a drink of water, and a change...

irregular. I could have ordered it. I wondered if Harlow would understand if I

offered to get it cleaned again.

But then, did I care?

Either Harlow hadn't been shopping since Truman's inaugural, or I was going to

get the name of his tailor.

I've got to find his telephone.

Only one possible explanation here.

Calling Adrian Harlow eccentric was like saying Grable had gams or Krupa had

rhythm. The guy was flat -out certifiable.

From the looks of things, he'd created his own personal time warp.

A world where, for Adrian Harlow, time came to a standstill on a day in 1948.

That's when I read the page in the typewriter.

The wind off the desert cut through the morning like a white -hot machete.

The title and opening lines of his work in progress were familiar, very

familiar.

I'd read them that morning, in fact, in a book that had been in print for over

40 years.

It didn't scan any of it. It was impossible.

Yet somehow, in the time it took me to take a shower and get dressed, Arlo had

returned and managed to get himself iced by an intruder.

And I'd missed all the commotion. I hadn't heard a sound.

Number, please.

I beg your pardon?

The number you wish to dial.

I already dialed it.

Area code 619.

Did you say area code?

Area code.

619, San Diego.

Why didn't you say so?

Prefix?

555.

You're repeating yourself, sir.

Prefix, please.

Prefix, look, lady, I'm trying to direct dial a call to Mr. Richard Simon in San

Diego. Do you need information?

I can connect you. No, I know the number. If you just get off the line,

Suddenly, I got the picture.

I saw myself standing in a dead man's house, wearing his clothes, while he's

the closet staining the floor.

Open up!

Usually I'm a great explainer.

Today I just wasn't in the mood.

Staring at a dead body always wrecks my appetite.

I get the street feeling like a load of mud bricks.

I'd always heard the water in L .A. was bad, but I never knew it made you

hallucinate. Read all about it! Two elites trooping in the polls!

Lenny says the Irish fear the Trojans!

Famous author dead!

Hey, what's the date on your paper there?

Today's! What do you think I sell, day -old news?

Read all about... Nickel, mister!

There could only be one of two possible explanations.

Harlow hadn't been crazy after all. He wasn't the only one who was.

I couldn't decide which one I liked less.

Extra! Extra! Read all!

Hey!

That's you!

That's you!

Hey, everybody!

Hey, everybody!

Everybody! That's him!

That's him! Officer!

Officer! That's him!

Luckily, I didn't have too much time to think about it.

Suddenly I felt like Lana Turner at a Marine Corps mixer.

that maybe going to L .A. was a little like breaking a mirror under a ladder

with a black cat crossing your path.

Then again, maybe not.

They don't make them like the blue parrot anymore.

If you saw it with the lights on, you'd know why.

Cigars? Cigarettes?

Chewing gum?

You look too healthy, kid. You need a cigar.

I don't smoke.

Hmm.

Little lady smoke?

Try one of these pastel numbers.

They've got gold filters on them.

Don't I know you?

Oh, no.

Closing time, a lot of guys think they know me, but not at this hour.

How about some chewing gum?

Never know when you're going to need some kissing sweet breath.

No, thanks.

Cheapskate. Cigar? Cigarette?

Why do I do just as you say?

Why must I just give you your way?

Why do I sigh?

Why do I try to forget?

There was more than hello in that look.

A lot more.

If I'd been a cop, I would have arrested myself for what I was thinking.

Excuse me. You go back to your table and I won't have to.

I think you lost, pal. She cut tracks, I thought.

We book singers here, not comedians.

I believe the lady wants to see me.

Yeah, she's real good at making you jamokas feel that way.

Now, Amscrayer, I'll knock you from hell to breakfast.

All right.

Tell the lady that the guy she gave the lift to is at the bar. She's so

inclined.

Think you can remember all that?

Excuse me?

Yeah.

What'll it be?

Terrier.

How are you?

I'll make it a glass of white.

Scotch, neat.

Actually, I'm not here to drink.

I'm here for information.

Adrian Harlow.

I'm just an apron, bub.

The writer.

Got himself killed today.

Used to come in here all the time.

A lot of people come in here. Thanks.

That's right, and you'd see them all.

Okay, I knew him.

Freaky article.

I'll write us at nuts if you ask me.

I want an editorial. I'll buy it.

Sorry. Okay, okay, you.

Three, four nights a week you'd be in.

Sit here, listen to Violet.

Then you'd head upstairs.

What's upstairs?

You know how Violet makes you feel.

The ladies up there can help you lose that feeling.

What's her name?

There ain't enough money on the bar, pal. Over in your pocket.

What do I have to do?

To find out.

It would take you making friends with the big boss.

I'm trembling.

Okay, tough guy.

It's your funeral.

First, I thought this was Max's way of telling me to take a long walk off a

short pier.

Then I got a crawly feeling in my gut telling me that might have been a much

better fate.

Yeah? Looking for Jules Canino.

You got the wrong joint.

Better not tell him that.

Which of you is Canino?

You want to hear me ask again?

You know, another guy came onto my yacht without being invited.

Once. I want to talk to you.

You are talking to me. About the murder of Adrian Harlow.

Don't you have some crooks to chase us on flat foot?

Hey, just because we've got an understanding doesn't mean you can...

this idea? Somebody complaining? Did you hear that?

Drink? Not tonight.

Sit.

You know about Adrian Harlow?

Yeah, I read the papers.

I bet you do. He had a girl who worked in your place.

A lot of guys in this town fit that profile.

Yeah, lots of guys in this town weren't found hanging from the closet door with

a knife in the ribs.

That I didn't read.

And neither did you.

So who are you?

You federal dick?

What's your angle?

You give me the girl's name, maybe I'll give you my angle.

Hey, look, slick.

You bust up a hot date, you come under my bow telling me what to do.

What, your mama didn't teach you no manners?

People get killed, I tend to get rude. It's one of my many faults.

All this needs cute, too. You ready for this guy?

All right, boy, Scott.

Her name is Marsha.

Room 2B.

Upstairs at my club, you tell her Uncle Jules said hello.

See? I got a minute.

You do it just the way I told you.

Ever seen a dead rat in a trap?

They have a look in their eyes like they knew what was coming. They just

couldn't resist the cheese.

Hello?

Hello, I'm looking for Marsha.

Scram. The meter's off.

When I look at...

You're

Marcia, huh?

So?

My name is Simon.

A .J. Simon.

It's a classy name.

It's a classy face.

Too classy for a dive like this.

I understand you're intimate with someone I'm interested in.

I'm intimate with three, four guys a night, mister.

Now, unless you want to be one of them, I suggest you fade and let me get back

to work.

You're in no condition to... Hiya, Marcia.

What happened to you?

She's been battered.

Apparently by one of Canino's. We can see who's been doing the battering here,

Blondie. Hey, down boy, if you think I had anything to do with this. How about

it, sister?

This guy been knocking you around?

And how?

Was he ever?

It's a good thing you mooks were close by.

Marsha, wait.

Thinks just because he's got a nice mug, he's Mr.

Irresistible.

As soon as I wouldn't come across, he'd just let me have it.

I did no such thing.

Save it, buster. Save it for downtown.

Mission accomplished.

He's looking at you, kid.

They didn't have me under the lights for very long.

Only about three years.

Lieutenant Travis was all over me like a bad smell.

He had a face as long and hard as a chorus girl's diary.

Now, Simon, we're going to start over.

And unless I get the kind of answers I like to hear...

It's going to be trick or treat.

Now, what were you doing at Harlow's place?

I came to help him.

You came to help him get dead?

No, I was hired to be there.

Oh, oh, yeah, sure, I get it.

Somebody hired you to wear his clothes for him, and you look so good in them,

just killed him. Is that it?

Hollywood's so near, and all this talent wasted.

You think I'm playing games here, Pally? You don't get to know what I think

until my lawyer gets here.

Fat lot of good, a mouthpiece will do a zero like you.

We'll see.

Well, you always forget to Miranda your suspects.

Miranda?

What do you want?

Fruit in your hat?

Now, listen.

You're going to swing for this one way or another.

So you might as well level.

Okay?

Then maybe I won't have to use your face for an ashtray.

Yeah, what's that supposed to do? Make me crawl up into your lap like a French

poodle? Leave him alone,

Travis.

We were just having a cup of coffee. You're letting him go.

And pigs have feathers.

Who made his bail?

You. Read it and weep.

But he's the guy that killed your... Skip it up, flatfoot.

Or would you like me to remind Chief Maddox of one of the many favors he owes

me? But this ain't right.

When did the word right enter your vocabulary?

Listen, lady, you just think I'm waltzing in here calling me a crook. I'm

calling you a slot machine, Travis.

I'm calling you a $20 bill wrapped around a driver's license. Now get out

here. I wouldn't let her talk to me like that.

They didn't hurt you, did they?

Nah.

Talked me to death.

But I'll live.

Violet again.

Just then she didn't look too bad either.

About like a hunch player looking starving bookie.

Told me she'd explain everything when we got to her place.

That was fine with me.

Till I saw that her place and Harlow's went on the same.

Sure, got a bucket?

Why don't you take off your hat?

Put on some music.

I thought you said your place.

I did.

This is Harlow's place.

Oh? What are we doing here?

She came at me in sections.

There was no mistaking that invitation.

She had more curves than Laurel Canyon, and her lips were as soft and warm as a

feather bed by a wood -burning stove.

So what are we doing at Harlow's place?

You're a broken record. Shut up and kiss me.

We'll get to that later.

What are we doing at Harlow's place?

He was my husband.

Was?

Until when?

Until yesterday. He died, remember?

You're real broken up about it, aren't you?

It wasn't a happy marriage.

You work the day shift, you work the night?

I don't think much of your manners.

Yeah, I don't like them much either.

I lie awake at night grieving over them.

I want to know who hung your husband out to dry.

He was having an affair.

Her name was Marcia.

Yeah, I met Marcia.

Nice lady.

Looks like she'd been out in the traffic, kicking trucks.

Only Marcia already had a boyfriend.

Jules Camino.

Yeah, I met him, too.

Well, he treated her real bad.

She was always crying on Adrian's shoulder.

All about Canino, his bribes, his rackets, the people he'd killed.

Adrian took it all down and put it in his book.

A long, hard pavement.

How did you know?

If I told you I didn't know, would you believe me?

No.

Then I'll ask the questions.

Canino stole the manuscript?

He tried to, but he couldn't.

He killed Adrian instead.

Then where's the book?

I was hoping you'd find it for me.

So this is where I come in.

How's that?

It's a big club, sweetheart, and it's getting bigger by the minute. I've got

figure someone's going to beat me to the bulk if they haven't already.

I'll pay you anything you say.

Anything.

Keep your motor running.

Was it something I said?

What do you want?

A man can get lonely in a jail cell.

I don't feel so hot. Come back tomorrow.

Looks like there won't be any tomorrow.

For you.

So I got a raw deal.

What's it to you?

Your kind usually does.

I don't slap so good this time of night.

You're after Adrian's book, aren't you?

Isn't everybody?

I don't know nothing about it.

Watch your double negatives, sister.

I hear you and Harlow had a thing going. Is that the straight dope?

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

I'm hopping about to Frisco.

I'm leaving this town, and you can't stop me.

Don't know me, Toots. I know the score.

You're hurting me. You're after the manuscript, or else why were you and

cozying up?

I guess I...

I broke the one rule a skirt like me ain't supposed to break.

I got a yen for the guy something fierce.

He wasn't like the others.

He wasn't a bad egg.

Not bad at all.

He was nice to me.

He cared about me for myself.

He just wanted to be with me.

And he never asked for nothing in return.

He even brought me roses.

Until I met him, I thought they only had roses at funerals.

Turned out I was right.

We could have sat and talked for hours.

Only I never had hours to spare.

But it didn't matter to him.

And even if I wasn't in no mood to do nothing but give with the sob sister

that was just Jake with him.

Not like some other guys I know.

Guys like Canino?

Then you're going to set me up with him. After that, you can ride a llama to

Peru for all I care.

You're crazy.

That's a bed bug.

There's the amici. Use it.

You better be packing the difference.

A rod's a fast curtain to a bad second act call.

Was I scared?

Hell no.

And Roosevelt wasn't popular.

But Tucker was a great success.

And Jane Russell could never get a date.

Drink?

Only after 9 a .m.

Look, you're smart, I'm smart. Let's be frank. I want the manuscript.

Sure, fine.

Anything you say.

Okay, you like this better?

I want the book. You don't want to go to the slammer.

Who do you think you are, huh?

Napoleon, God, maybe a little bit of both?

No, I'm just a guy who came here by the guy who got killed.

By you.

Tough talk.

It's not the only thing about me that's tough.

Put your gun on the table.

Hey, you wouldn't want me to feel naked now, would you?

Your only problem right now, pal, you kill me, you don't ever get the book.

But then neither does anybody else, which is also fine by me.

You're good.

You're very good.

I could make use of a guy like you.

No, you wouldn't want to bother. I keep tripping over my scruples. You what?

Look it up. Now, very simple.

Where's the book?

Very simple.

It's right behind you.

I can see you.

But you can't see me.

I better call a Catholic, Blondie.

You'll never get on your own.

You got a license for that thing, gumshoe?

Five more rounds.

It sounded sweeter than a cheerleader's yes.

I think you're trying to load that thing, Camino.

You'll have a medal early to go.

You sound pretty sure of yourself.

I am.

I counted six shots.

Surprise.

Where's the book? Come on, A .J., get up. Where's the book? A .J. Where's the

book? A .J.

Don't you answer me!

It's right there.

Rick? Well, unless I've been reincarnated since this morning, yeah.

Now, would you get it together? We got an appointment.

What time is it?

It's 9 .30. We're due at the office now.

You put a shot right into my chest.

It's a good thing I woke you up when I did. You know what they say about dying

in your dreams.

I hope you guys are more careful on a case than you are about locking your

office door.

You were the last one out.

I was not. You were too.

You two knew each other?