All language subtitles for Mannix S08E23 Search for a Dead Man.DVDRip.NonHI.en.CBS

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Good morning. May I help you?

I'd like to see
Mr. Ingram, please.

Mr. Thompson of
Northwest Floor Coverings

to see you, Mr. Ingram.

Okay.

You can go right on in.

Hello, Norman.

Good morning.

You know my
partner, Mr. Wayborn.

Of course. Nice
to see you again.

Sit down, Norman.

You owe me $50,000.

For what? You blew it.

Just a moment, Mark.

Let's hear what Norman
has to say about it.

There's nothing to say.

I made the hit, Albert
Coleman is dead,

I expect to be paid.

- What did you do with the body?
- I don't dispose of bodies.

I killed him and left.

Norman...

I think you missed him.

I never miss.

It's true. You
never have before.

Now, Coleman's a cautious man.

Maybe he's taken to
wearing a bulletproof vest.

It wouldn't have helped
him; it was a head shot.

I saw him fall.

Oh, you saw him fall.
You'd do the same thing

if somebody took a shot at you
and missed, if you were smart.

Then you'd play dead
until you thought it was safe

to get up and run away, which
is exactly what Coleman did.

I didn't miss.

Check the hospitals, the morgue.

Of course, Norman.
We'll do that.

Maybe the police are
trying to keep it quiet.

Are you kidding?

Nothing would make
the police happier

than to produce the corpse of
the West Coast Syndicate boss.

None of us is safe if
Albert Coleman is still alive.

And I'm sure he is.

He's dead.

We don't owe you
a cent till we're sure.

Now, you get us proof the job's
done, and that means a body!

Yeah. Well...

- Good morning.
- Good morning.

May I help you?

I-I-I'd like to see, uh,
Mr. Mannix, please.

May I tell him what
it's about, Mister...?

Uh, Thompson.
Nor-Norman Thompson.

I-I'd rather tell him
myself, if-if you don't mind.

All right, Mr. Thompson.

No way! Come on, three a side.

Right.

Okay, I'll see you at, uh...

3:00. Hey, and Paul...

bring money.

Joe, there's a
Mr. Thompson to see you.

What's he selling?
Floor coverings?!

I don't think he's
selling anything.

He looks pretty worried.

Show him in.

Mr. Thompson?

Mr. Mannix.

Mr. Thompson.

Uh, th-thank you for
seeing me, Mr. Mannix.

- Please, sit down.
- Oh, uh, thank you.

I, uh...

I don't quite know, uh,
wh-where to begin. I...

Well, now, just take your time.

What seems to be bothering you?

Well, it-it's something
that I saw night before last,

or at least I'm...

I'm pretty sure I saw it.

What's that?

A man shot.

Go on, Mr. Thompson.

Well, it-it was just
after 2:00 in the morning

and I was on my way to my hotel,

the Markham... I-I always stay at
the Markham when I'm in town...

And I heard what I-I-I thought
at first was a-a backfire.

Only there were... there were
no other cars on the street.

So-so then I realized the sound

must've come from
one of the buildings...

Maybe a-a window or the roof.

I looked up; there was nothing.

And then I-I-I looked
across the street.

And?

Well, outside one of
the apartment buildings,

I saw that a man had
fallen in the bushes,

and I realized what I had heard
was a gun and the man was shot.

And I also knew from the
way he was lying there that...

that he was dead.

"The way he was lying there"?

Well, I-I-I was in the
army in Korea, Mr. Mannix.

You get to know
when a man has been...

hit fatally.

What did you do?

Well, I'm-I'm afraid I panicked.

I went on to my hotel.

And, uh, uh...

what do you want me
to do, Mr. Thompson?

To find out if I saw
what I think I saw.

I've-I've heard
nothing about it since.

Well, you know it would be
much easier and a lot cheaper

if you called the
police department.

Now, they would
do it for nothing.

I suppose so. I mean,
I-I know I should have...

have notified the
police but I-I-I just...

I can't afford to get
involved right now.

Why not?

Well, I-I was out that
evening with a lady, a...

a married lady. I...

I was afraid that if
I called the police

there'd be... questions.

Now, uh, you say you
were across the street,

and you're pretty
sure about all of this?

The shot and the man
dead in the bushes?

Yes. The sound of the
gunshot and the body.

The combination scared me.

All I could think of was getting
out of there, because of my...

my-my, my-my friend.

- The lady.
- Yes.

And you went straight
to the Markham?

Yes, I've been watching
the newspapers,

and there's been
nothing. Nothing!

It's driving me crazy.

I-I see a man shot
dead, and then...

nothing.

I'm-I'm even
beginning to wonder if...

Wonder what?

Well, it's possible
that I was mistaken,

and that-that he wasn't
dead, he was just hurt,

and that he died
because I failed

to notify somebody in time.

I mean, I-I've got
to know, Mr. Mannix.

You understand, don't you?

C-C-Can you help me?

Well...

I'll do what I can,
Mr. Thompson.

I-I-I can't ask you to
spend a lot of time on this.

I-I'm not a rich man.

Well, let's not worry
about that right now.

And so far, there
isn't even a case.

No, there are no unsolved
homicides Thursday night...

or Friday morning.

There are some assaults,

a few accidents,

but nothing in the neighborhood
you're talking about,

not even a disturbing the peace.

- Mm.
- Who you playing golf with?

Paul Richman. What
about the fire department?

No rescue calls?

- Paul Richman is gonna kill you.
- Are you kidding?

No, no fire department
calls. There you are, Herman.

He's gonna give me
three strokes a side.

Hey, uh, maybe my client saw
a wino lying in a doorway, huh?

Richman could give
you six strokes a side

and still beat you.

Would you like to put
a little wager on that?

Malcolm.

Oh, yeah, good.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Okay, that'll do
it. Thanks a lot.

Well, at least your client
is who he says he is.

Norman Thompson,
he's a sales representative

for Northwest Floor Covering,

with offices in San Francisco,
Portland and Seattle.

Lives in a little town
up near Santa Maria.

Yeah. Thanks a lot, Art.

You know, you didn't have to
go through that much trouble.

Hey, if you don't want
somebody checked out,

don't mention him to me.

You know how nosy I am.

Yeah, that I do.

Oh, uh, this guy
Thompson, is he married?

No. Why?

You know how nosy I am.

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Yeah, I got it, Ed.

Any idea when it was fired?

Okay.

All right, thanks a lot.

A rifle bullet, right?

.243, he thinks.

That's a pretty good-sized
slug for that small a caliber.

Well, they make 'em up to 100
grain for coyote or woodchucks,

things like that.

- A varmint rifle?
- Could be.

Anyway, it was fired
within the last week,

but not longer than that.
It wasn't oxidized enough.

What about the
stain, was it blood?

Type O, human.

As opposed to, uh... varmint.

The lab say anything
more about the rifle?

It's almost always
used with a scope.

I guess because nobody
gets that close to a coyote.

It's accurate up to
300 yards and powerful.

Up to 3,500 feet per
second muzzle velocity.

That would explain why it
went right through whoever it hit.

You know, it could've
grazed somebody

who then got up and ran.

Art, my client says
he saw a body,

a dead body.

And a Mr. and Mrs.
Arthur Young in 310?

Yes, I've got it.

And that completes
the tenants list?

Well, thank you very
much, Mr. Wanamaker.

You've been very kind. Bye-bye.

What'd you get?

Oh... that apartment has
a lot of respectable people.

Businessmen, doctors, lawyers,

a high-fashion model, architect,

all very high-income tax types.

Very interesting.

Thanks, Peg.

- Good evening.
- Hello, Mr. Thompson.

Uh, Mr. Mannix,
I-I, I got a message

- that you'd called the hotel.
- Yes, I did.

I-I just happened to
be in the neighborhood,

so I thought I'd drop by.

Well, I'm glad you did.
Come in, Mr. Thompson.

Oh, thank you.

I think I may be
on to something.

Oh? Uh, w-w-was I right?

Did th-the police find the body?

No, no, as a matter
of fact, they say

that there have been no
reports of shootings or homicides

in that neighborhood
in the past few months.

Oh, well, that's
bad news, isn't it?

But y-you said you were
on to something else.

Yes, well, what I wanted to
tell you is that I found a slug,

flattened near where
you told me the body was.

- A slug?
- Yeah, that's a spent bullet.

The police lab say they
also found human blood on it.

Oh?

A-Anything else?

Well, they were able to
identify the type of weapon.

It's a gun commonly
called a varmint rifle.

There should be
more on it tomorrow.

Oh, you mean on-on the rifle?

Well, M-Mr. Mannix, I-I-I don't
think that makes any difference.

- What I really want to know...
- I understand, Mr. Thompson.

What you really want to know is

if anyone was
hurt or killed, right?

Yes, that's right.

Well, as soon as I find
out anything, I'll be in touch.

Oh, well, all right, uh...

- thank you very much.
- Good night.

G-Good-bye.

Third floor: Walter
Overland, novelist.

Huh, I've read a
couple of his books.

Dr. and Mrs. Woodmere.

Ms. Hope Gordon, fashion model.

And not a bullet
wound among them.

Yeah. Good night, Peg.
See you in the morning.

Good night, Joe.

Second floor...

- Joe?
- Yeah?

There is one thing.

What's that?

Hope Gordon, the fashion model.

What about her?

Well, she'd have to
be very successful

to afford that kind of
high rent, wouldn't she?

And if she were that successful,
you would have heard of her.

- That's right.
- But you haven't.

That's right. Let
me put it this way:

I read every fashion magazine
published at the beauty parlor,

and I've never read
the name Hope Gordon.

I like the way your little
old mind works, Peggy.

It pays to be suspicious, Joe.

Yeah, I'll check out
our Miss Hope Gordon.

Good night!

Good night.

Malcolm.

Oh, hello, Joe.

Who?

You wouldn't mean
Angel Gordon, would you?

What do you know about her?

If the lady's who I think
she is, stay away, Joe.

Why?

Because this angel
flies with Albert Coleman.

The Syndicate Coleman?

You got it.

He's had a "no trespassing"
sign on her door ever since

he took over the number-one
spot in the Syndicate.

Art, she lives in the building
where the shooting took place.

It could add up.

What adds up?

That somebody tried
to gun down Al Coleman

in front of a building
where his girlfriend lives?

It doesn't add up.

Where's the body?
Where's the evidence?

What am I going
to bury, a ghost?

Maybe I can dig up
some evidence for you.

How? With a Ouija board?

With an angel.

- Mr. Mannix?
- Yes.

Wait until I unlock this vault.

Burglaries?

It's a maximum
security building.

Ah. I can see why.

Thanks. Come on in.

Now, let's get to
the commercial.

You said you had
something important

to tell me about Al Coleman?

When was the last
time you saw him?

Let me get something straight

before I drive in
the wrong lane.

You're not fuzz?

Not fuzz.

You're in the private sector
of the detective business,

- is that right?
- That's right.

Okay.

Now, what would someone
in your line of work want

with information
about Al Coleman?

He's a little out of
your league, isn't he?

Well, I've played in some

pretty good-sized
ballparks, Miss Gordon.

Well, for a shamus,
you don't dress too badly.

Huh. Thank you.

All right, what would
you like to know?

I have a client who says he
saw a man shot two nights ago.

- Shot?!
- Outside this apartment.

And he thought it
was Al Coleman?

No, he doesn't know who
it was. Uh, he heard a shot.

He saw a man who
had fallen in the bushes.

He's convinced he was dead.

What about the police?

- Well, he didn't call them.
- Why?

Well, the, uh... the lady
he kissed good night

didn't happen to be his wife.

And how did you get to me?

I checked all the
tenants in the building,

on the off chance that
one of 'em might be in,

shall we say, a
dangerous profession.

And you came up
with fashion modeling?

No, no, I came up with a
friend of a fashion model.

Oh. And being a
detective, you deduced...

That is the right
word, isn't it?

I'd say so, yes.

That Al left me, walked
out into the moonlight

and collected a bullet.

Something like that.

Being a good
detective, Mr. Mannix,

I'm sure you noticed my luggage.

Oh, that's very nice.

I'm going to Las Vegas.

To meet Al Coleman.

That's his coat,
as a matter of fact.

I saw him at noon
today when he left,

and I talked to him on
the phone an hour ago.

- And he's all right?
- Fine.

If there was a bullet
hole in him, it didn't show.

Well, there goes a
pretty good deduction.

I'm sorry to have
bothered you, Miss Gordon.

Oh, by the way, I, uh...

I also like your perfume.

- Do you?
- Uh-huh, what's it called?

What do your clients pay you?

$200 a day plus expenses.

You don't really want to
know the name of my perfume.

Hmm?

Good night, Mr. Mannix.

Good night, Miss Gordon.

How long are you gonna
wait for Thompson to call us?

We should've heard
from him by now.

Maybe I should call
him at the Markham?

No! No, not through
the switchboard.

He'll call us when he's
got something to tell us...

He's got our home phone numbers.

That's another mistake we made.

Hello?

Yes, Angel.

What did he want?

I see. You did the right thing.

I'll tell Mark.

Enjoy yourself.

Give my regards to Al.

Angel saw Al Coleman?

She talked to him.

- When?
- Today.

She's on her way up
to Vegas to meet him.

She had a visitor.

Some guy named
Mannix. A private eye.

What did he want?

He has a client.

The client says he saw some
guy shot outside Angel's building.

Guess who the client is.

Thompson! He's
gonna get us both killed!

First he blows the contract,
then he hires a private eye!

I think he's gone
off his rocker.

The whole thing's
falling apart, Mark.

- Aw, take it easy.
- Al has to know someone's

gunning for him. A
contract gets around.

How long before
he puts it together?

We haven't blown it yet.

I'll get ahold of Thompson.

He'll make the hit in Vegas.

Suppose Al knows him?

How could he know
him? Thompson's clean.

If he wants his money, let
him make the hit in Vegas.

- Mannix.
- Mannix,

I understand you've been
talking to a certain lady.

Who is this?

This is Al Coleman.

Now, look, Mannix,
I'm gonna say this once:

You lay off Angel, you hear me?

- Yeah, I heard you.
- You stay out of her life...

if you want to keep breathing.

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- Good morning.
- Peg.

I see you made
the coffee yourself.

What happened to Mrs. Olson?

Uh, she got another job.

Okay, well, was she pretty?

Mrs. Olson?

No, Miss Gordon.

Oh, yeah, well, she goes
by the nickname of Angel

and flies to Las Vegas
whenever Al Coleman tells her to.

From the L.A. Airport,

where I watched
her take off last night.

Oh, it's your client.

We're in here, Mr. Thompson.

Good morning, Mr. Thompson.

- Would you like some coffee?
- Uh, no, no, thank you.

Mr. Mannix, I hope
I'm not disturbing you.

I-I wanted to see you
as early as possible

because I have to go on the
road this morning, and I, uh...

M-M-May we talk privately?

Oh, of course.

If you change your mind about
some coffee, just let me know.

You, uh, you have
a very nice secretary.

I think so.

Mr. Mannix,
I-I-I've checked out.

I'm leaving in a few minutes.
I'm driving up to San Francisco,

and i-if it's all right, I'll-I'll
mail you your check?

- Oh, sure, that'd be fine.
- And thank you very much

- for all your trouble.
- Wait a minute, uh...

you mean you don't want
me to keep looking for the...?

No, no, uh...

Uh, thanks very much for, uh...

for being so, uh... indulgent.

I, uh, I-I've given
the whole matter

a great deal of thought, and...

I-I don't know
whether I mentioned it,

but I had had a few
drinks earlier that evening.

Quite a few, as
a matter of fact.

And, well, Mr. Mannix,
th-there's something else

th-that I have to admit.

What's that, Mr. Thompson?

Well, it's, uh...

i-it's happened to me before,

the same type of, uh,

hallucination, you might say.

Are you telling me you now think

you imagined seeing
a body in the bushes?

I'm afraid it's... possible.

Mr. Thompson...

you ever thought of
seeing a psychiatrist?

Oh, yes, of course.
I-I-I've seen more than one.

I-I-I've been told that the
problem is somehow related

- to my-my military experience.
- I see.

I know it's, uh, my imagination,

but i-it's very real
to me at the time.

And do you know, hiring
someone like yourself

and paying to find out
that it was a hallucination,

I mean, well, it... i-it
always seems to help me.

The doctor explained that, too.

Part of the therapy?

Exactly. I-I-I'm
really very grateful.

Well...

I'm glad I could be of help,
Mr. Thompson. Have a nice trip.

I-I'm sorry I wasted your time.

Good-bye, Mr. Mannix.

Good-bye.

- I'll be in touch, Peg.
- Where are you going?

After our client. I
think we've been had.

I'm gonna tail Mr. Thompson,

and see what's really
playing on his phonograph.

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Well, Joe, there you are, a
.243 varmint rifle with scope.

I'd say your client
was a hit man.

But he missed Al Coleman.

He evidently didn't
think he missed.

He hired you to find
the body, remember?

The question is, who hired him?

Whoever did is in a lot of
trouble with Al Coleman.

You didn't get a good look
at the guy on the bike, huh?

No, no, just the license number.

Did Motor Vehicles
have anything on it?

The bike is registered to John
Webber, a small-time hood.

We're checking him out.

Now, if I'd stayed
closer to Thompson,

I might have stopped that.

Oh, delayed it,
maybe, that's about all.

Gotten yourself
killed in the process.

- Yeah. It's getting chilly.
- Yeah, a little.

- Hi, Peg.
- Hi.

I've got messages
for both of you.

That's for you.

And your friend Charlie
Hill called from Las Vegas.

He had no trouble whatsoever
in locating Angel Gordon.

- What about Al Coleman?
- She wasn't with him.

Her escort's name
was Mark Wayborn,

and they took a flight for
L.A. a couple of hours ago.

Mark Wayborn... now, where
do I know that name from?

Ingram and Wayborn,
import-export business.

You know, Art... Hey,
you want some coffee?

- No, thanks.
- Neither do I.

They could all be
connected in this thing:

Angel Gordon; Coleman;
Thompson, the hit man.

Sure, they could be. That
import-export business

is probably a laundry for
Coleman's money, but we've

- never been able to prove it.
- And what've you got?

Well, the medical
examiner's report is in.

Thompson was killed
with a plain old .32 slug.

Peggy, what else
did Charlie Hill say

about Angel and Mark Wayborn?

They were very friendly.

Hmm, how friendly?

Drinks together in the lounge,
you know, that sort of thing.

Little Angel's gonna
get her wings clipped

if Coleman finds out.

Question is...

Where's Coleman?

Hello?

Ingram?

Who is this?

I just thought
you'd like to know,

your hit man is cold meat.

Who is this calling?

Norman Thompson was his name.

Why don't you call the morgue?

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

- You must have dialed the...
- Ingram!

You're next.

You and then that
partner of yours.

Who is this?!

Well, this is a
friend... of a friend.

Charley, that teletype
arrive from Washington?

Yes, it's on your desk.

- Charley.
- Joe.

Norman Thompson, corporal,
two years Korean combat,

Bronze Star, Purple Heart.

Try and reach Judge
Berg for me, will you?

And if you can't do it, try
Judge Carpenter. And fast.

Unit Presidential
Citation. Specialty: sniper.

Commanding officer: Robert
W. Ingram, U.S. Army Reserve.

Well, he was a
sniper right to the end.

And maybe working for the
same commanding officer, Ingram.

If Ingram put out that
contract on Coleman;

he could be in trouble.

Coleman's probably
got it figured out.

And started paying
everybody back,

beginning with your
client, Norman Thompson.

Well, now, I think we ought

to pay Captain Ingram
a visit, don't you?

Not without a warrant.

He's got all kinds of lawyers.

Yeah, well, this is the
year for 'em, all right.

This will only take
a couple of minutes.

♪♪

- Oh, hi, Art. What'd you find?
- Well, the slugs match.

It's the gun that killed Ingram
and your client Norman Thompson.

Well, whoever dumped that gun
in the garbage can in the garage

was either in a hurry
or wanted you to find it.

Could be.

Oh, I got a call
from Mark Wayborn.

Wayborn?

Yeah, he's afraid he's
gonna be the next target.

I'm on my way
over to see him now.

- Well, mind if I tag along?
- No, it's all right.

Malcolm.

Are you sure?

Good enough.

Well, we got a
registration on the gun.

Al Coleman?

Yeah, I'm putting out
an APB on him now.

That won't do any good, Art.

Why not?

The rap won't stick.
Coleman will prove that

he was a thousand miles
from either one of those killings

and that somebody stole
his gun at least two years ago.

Now, why don't we
go see Mark Wayborn?

All right.

Charley, put out an APB
on Coleman, will you?

I'll get on it right away.

Wasting your time, Charley.

You're certain that it
was Coleman's voice?

And the first call,
I think you said

- you got it around 2:00 a.m.?
- Yeah.

- That was Coleman, too?
- I'm sure of it.

Where'd you get
the calls, at home?

No, uh, I was at a
friend's apartment.

Why should Al
Coleman want to kill you?

Somebody tried
to assassinate him.

And he thinks you
hired the hit man?

Lieutenant, I had nothing
to do with it, I swear!

Who did?

Well, somebody set it up.

Why should Al Coleman
think it was you?

I don't know.

But you know who did
put out the contract?

Yeah.

My partner Bob Ingram.

- Your dead partner.
- That's right.

- Coleman killed him, and now I'm scared.
- Why?

Because he thinks I'm trying to
make time with Angel Gordon.

Lieutenant, Coleman is crazy.

If you even talk to that
girl, his muscle moves in.

Now, I need protection!

Well, I've got an
APB out on Coleman.

That's about all I
can do right now.

There isn't any hard evidence
that your life is in danger.

You mean, I haven't
been shot at yet.

Mr. Wayborn, this is a big city.

Maybe you should think about
getting some private protection,

at least until
Coleman's in custody.

He's guilty as hell, Art.

- Of what?
- Putting out the contract on Coleman.

He's in it with his partner
right up to his ears.

But he had a better reason.

You mean Miss Gordon?

- Beautiful lady.
- Yeah.

Sweet, innocent,
naive... Just my type.

Well, he was scared, Joe.

Oh, I'd be, too, Art, if I'd put
a contract out on Coleman

and my man had missed.

Well, I got to get
back to the office.

I sure wish it'd
make up its mind.

Yeah, see you, Joe.

- Thanks for lunch!
- Yeah.

Eh, beautiful day for banana
fish, ain't it, Mr. Mannix?

Willie, what are you
doing on the pier?

You know this fresh
air could kill you.

Well, I kind of got my hook out.

You interested?

In what?

Guy named Webber? Rides a bike?

I hear you and the
cops are looking.

I'm definitely
interested, Willie.

For about a hundred?

Oh, well, now the price
of fish have gone up, huh?

- It's that Arab oil, Mr. Mannix.
- Oh, I see.

Okay, Willie, a hundred.

Well, I'm at the marina, see?

And there's this boat,

and a guy on a bike
rides up... Webber...

And he gets on the boat.

Now, did you, uh,
happen to notice

the name of the
boat, too, Willie?

What am I, an amateur?

I lost my head.

The Tiki. That's her moniker.

I'll do it.

Okay.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

The perfume man.

Open up, Angel.

Go away. It's late.

Not that late.

You look like you
just got out of bed.

- Not quite.
- Would you like a drink?

Yeah, scotch, thanks.

How's your client?
The kooky one.

Dead.

Really? How sad.

And I found Al Coleman, too.

- In Nevada?
- No, in a freezer.

Also dead, like my client.

Is that a detective joke?

No, his body's in
the county morgue.

I think I'll join you.

Aren't you upset
about AI's death?

Upset?

What an old-fashioned word.

Coleman was in love with you.

That's an old-fashioned
word, too, isn't it?

Oh, you're good, Angel.

Yeah, really good,
there's no doubt about that.

Would've worked, too,
except for one thing.

Somebody got a
little too anxious.

Joe... It is Joe, isn't it?

It's Joe.

Joe, what are you talking about?

What could I possibly
have had to do

with the death of your
client, let alone Al Coleman?

Oh, and Bob Ingram, sweetie.

Don't forget Ingram.
Three counts of murder.

That's what the police
are gonna charge you with.

You're insane.

Oh, come on, Angel,
the game's over.

Tell me what happened.

Did the gilded cage
get a little too small,

or weren't the diamonds enough?

What did Mark Wayborn promise
you to help set up Al Coleman?

Marriage?

Yes.

Marriage...

Now, that's an old-fashioned
word, too, isn't it?

Joe, listen, I didn't plan it.

Not any of it.

You have to believe me.

Believe you, why?

Marriage, yes.

And the security, I wanted that.

But it was Mark and
Ingram who hired Thompson.

Maybe so.

But when Coleman was killed,
your boyfriend had Webber

standing by to take away
the body and put it on ice.

Coleman would be blamed
for all of the murders,

then one day his body
would wash ashore...

defrosted.

But I had nothing to do with it!

Do I look like a killer?

Yeah, well, you didn't
actually pull the trigger, Angel,

but you did know
what was going on.

You lied to me.

I was frightened.

Mark is a dangerous man.

I'll tell you anything
you want to know.

Oh, that's nice.
That's real cozy.

Booze and all.

What's she been telling you?

Nothing that Webber, your
gunsel, hasn't already spilled.

Mark, shoot him. We
can still get away together.

I was only stalling
him until you got here.

Sure you were, Angel. Mm-hmm.

You were stalling
him just long enough

to sell me down the river.

Just like you sold Al Coleman.

Mark!

First you, baby,
then the shamus.

Police! Open the door!

Want to open the door, Angel?

The lieutenant has a bad temper.

Open up!

They're all yours,
Art. Two beauties.

Get him out of here.

You never did tell me the
name of that perfume, Angel.

You still can't afford it.

Yeah, maybe you're right.