All language subtitles for 10 - The Adventure of the Pharaoh

In a few minutes,
Norris Wentworth will be dead.

The question is, "Who killed him?”

Was it the rebellious son?

Lucky me.

The long-suffering wife?

He was not a loved man.

The museum curator?

And I don't particularly care
for your suggestion.

His ambitious assistant?

He died of a heart attack.

The angry Egyptian?

You have no right!

Or was it someone else?

Match wits with Ellery Queen

and see if you can guess
who done it

[ Egyptian music plays ]

[ Indistinct conversations ]

So, Mr. Wentworth, you brought
the remains of Amun-Ra to us --

something of a coup,
if the the sarcophagus is genuine.

Well, it better be.
I shelled out 25 grand for it.

After 20 years of watching
unwary lambs get fleeced,

I can assure you
money and authenticity

are not always same.

Where is that fool Tremaine?

Oh, easy, darling.
It's only a few minutes after 7:00.

Where on Earth did you find it,
Wentworth?

Monastery in the Black Forest.

You know, the Krauts were trying
to hide it from the Russkies

just before V-E Day.

[ Laughter ]

I should say Amun-Ra
brought his German owners

no more good fortune
than his previous owners.

Excuse me, please.

Good evening.

Good evening, Lois, Bud.

- Dad, I wanted--
- Now, where have you been?

We got stuck in traffic.

Look, Dad, there's this swell party
going on

over at George Wexler's place--

This is one of the most
important nights of my life, Bud.

Now, at least do me the courtesy
of waiting for the unveiling.

It means a lot to your father, Bud.

We should be out of here by 8:00.

I don't ask much of you, Bud.

Just a little respect, a little word
of thanks once in awhile --

for the car, for the clothes,
for the doling out of the money.

Yeah.

Thanks, Dad.

Oh, Norris.

Tremaine, you're late.

Yes, I know. I'm sorry.

I was on a call
to a buyer in Mexico City.

What about? Some two-bit piece
of Mayan crockery

when we've got the treasure
of the century waiting to be unveiled?

Norris, we're most grateful--

Save the gratitude, Tremaine.

The party's getting dull,
and people are getting drunk,

and I'm losing my patience.

Now, let's get on with it.
Shall we?

Yes, of course.

Ladies and gentlemen,
your attention, please.

Thank you very much.

As you know, we are gathered here
to put on public display

one of the world's
most treasured relics,

priceless antiquity,

tracked down
and brought to this museum

by our great friend and benefactor,
Mr. Norris Wentworth.

[ Applause ]

My friends, I present to you

the sarcophagus
of Pharaoh Amun-Ra.

Don't! You have no right!

Dr. Haddid, please.

Those are the remains of my king,
the king of my people,

stolen from his sacred burial place.

Can he have no peace?

Look, friend, I'm no grave robber.

But you perpetuate the indecency,

you and all those like you,
with your money.

This is not a curiosity!
This is a king!

Tremaine, get him out of here.

- Mr. Wentworth--
- I said, get him out of here!

Guard, take him away.

Do not defile the sarcophagus.

Remember the promise
that has followed Amun-Ra

all through the ages.

You think I'm afraid
of your lousy curse?

[ Creeks open ]

Six men have died before you,
Mr. Wentworth,

six who defied
the power of Amun-Ra.

If there is any justice,
you will be the seventh!

Keep your fingers crossed, Mom.

Maybe there really is a curse.

[ Crickets chirping ]

- Good evening, sir.
- Good evening, Gilbert.

Whose car is that out there?

- A Mr. Brimmer, sir.
- Oh.

He told me he was expected.

It is all right, sir?

Oh, yes, yes -- Simon Brimmer.
Thank you very much, Gilbert.

We won't need you
the rest of the evening.

And Mrs. Wentworth, sir?

Well, she drove her own car.
She'll be along shortly.

Very good, sir.

Oh, sorry to keep you waiting,
Brimmer.

- Can I fix you a little snort?
- Nothing, thanks.

I'll fix me one.

Oh, boy.

Totally against doctor's orders,

but after that business
with the Egyptian,

I need this.

Oh? Trouble at the museum?

Well, not trouble, really,
but this idiot in a fez --

some kind of historian
from Alexandria --

he put the curse of Amun-Ra on me.

Ah, interesting coincidence,

considering the purpose
of our meeting.

Oh, yeah! Your radio show.

- Have a seat.
- Thank you.

You know, it seems to me
that mummies are a --

a little out of your line,
aren't they, Brimmer?

Well, mysteries like the curse
of Amun-Ra are ageless, sir.

I'm developing a series
of six shows,

each dealing
with the mysterious death

of one of the six previous owners
of the Amun-Ra sarcophagus.

Oh, I get it -- murder and mystery
through the centuries, right?

Precisely.

Death at the hands
of a dead Egyptian Pharaoh --

coincidence or curse?

A fascinating premise.

Well, I guess some people
believe in that kind of stuff.

More than you might suspect, sir.

Therefore, if I may be assured
of your cooperation...

Oh, sure, sure. Glad to.

As long as I don't come off
looking like a grave robber.

[ Telephone rings ]

Excuse me.

Hello?

Yes.

What?

Yes, I understand.

I could be there in 20 minutes.

Yes.

Something very important
has come up, Brimmer.

I'm sorry.
I hate to run like this.

I understand.

Say, listen, why don't you have
your people contact the museum?

The curator there, Tremaine --
he's not too sharp,

but I think he can handle this thing.

- Most kind of you, Mr. Wentworth.
- It's all right.

I'll be calling you tomorrow.

Right. That'll be fine.

[ Engine turns over]

[ Clock ticking ]

The man in the raincoat slipped
unobserved through the doorway

and found himself --

He -- he found himself in the...

In the closet?

In the basement.

It was dark and dank,

and he felt the crunch of coal dust
beneath his feet.

- That's very good.
- What?

The coal dust on his shoes.
That's a good clue.

It's not a clue.

- Oh. How's your finger? Still hurt?
- Just a little, yeah.

I'm no good
with can openers, either.

Oh, is that right?
Oh, I didn't know that.

I'm sorry, Miss --
I've forgotten your name.

Margie. Margie Coopersmith,
with a "C."

Right. Where were we?

In the cellar with the coal dust.

"He felt the crunch of coal dust
beneath his feet."

Suddenly, he heard a sound,

and he whirled
as the door flew open.

- Ellery.
- Hi, Dad.

How long are you and Miss, uh...

Coopersmith, with a "C."

...Miss Coopersmith with a "C"

going to be prowling around
down here?

I'm sorry to keep you up, Dad,

but I got to finish this book
by Friday,

and I've got
about 40 pages to finish,

and I've got this rotten finger.

- Maybe we could go to the Automat.
- I can't write in an automat.

[ Telephone rings ]

My English teacher said
a good writer could write anywhere.

- Yeah?
- He never wrote in an automat.

Hold it, Velie. Slow down.

Jack London used to write
on a fishing boat.

- What?
- But that was quiet.

All right, you get there.
I'll be down as soon as I can.

It's never quiet
in an automat, never.

You can go ahead
with your book, son.

It doesn't look like
I'll get much sleep tonight.

- Okay, Dad.
- Absolutely incredible.

The door flew open --

What's incredible?

I don't want to interfere
with your dictation, son.

Come on, Dad.
What's incredible?

[ Exhales ]
You'll just want to tag along.

Dad!

It's the curse
of the Pharaoh Amun-Ra, son.

The old boy has just claimed
his seventh victim.

[ Thump on wall ]

That's right, sir.

I found him about 10:30
when I was making my rounds,

like I do every hour.

How'd he get in?

He let himself in, I guess.

Well, Mr. Tremaine
gave him a special gold key,

a sort of a thank-you present

for that thing he brought
to the museum.

- Well, nothing's missing.
- You sure of that, Dr. Tremaine?

Positive, Inspector.

We have an emerald necklace
on open display in the next wing --

absolutely priceless.

It wasn't even touched.

I'm gonna take a look down
the parking garage, Inspector.

Okay, Velie.
Thank you, Harry.

Um...

Look, Inspector, Norris Wentworth
came back into this museum

after it had been locked
to view his treasure.

I don't know his motive.

The point is he was not stabbed.
He was not shot.

He was not beaten.

There wasn't a mark on him
of any kind.

That may well be,

but until the autopsy
confirms the cause of death,

we're assuming nothing.

- Guard?
- Yes, sir?

I found these
in Mr. Wentworth's pocket.

Can you tell me which one
fits the outer door?

Yes, sir, this one here.
The long gold one in the middle.

I see. Thank you.

[ Rattling ]

- Um, excuse me, Dr. Tremaine.
- Yes?

Do you know if Mr. Wentworth
had some sort of a heart problem?

Well, not that I know of. Why?

Dad, I found a couple of things
in his overcoat pocket.

A bottle of pills -- I believe
they're nitroglycerin tablets --

and a key ring.

Do you think we might get a photo?

Baldwin.

Inspector? Inspector!

There's something fishy downstairs.

Maybe it means something,
and maybe not,

but Mr. Wentworth's car --
somebody broke into it.

The window on the driver's side --
busted in, Inspector.

Wonder if anything's missing.

Maybe there's something
in the glove compartment.

Well, that's an expensive bauble
to be carrying around.

What is it, Ellery? A clue?

I don't know.

November 28, 1946 --
only a couple months old.

Must be worth a lot, too.

Look! There's a diamond missing
right there in the middle. See?

MARGIE: I wonder what that means.

Look, Ellery, I know it looks screwy,

but as far as we know,
it's a simple heart attack.

That's all.

What about the broken window?

Oh, it could have happened
days ago.

Come on, Velie.

Dad, why carry around
a valuable bracelet

when you can't lock it in your car?

All right, all right.

A sneak thief breaks in,
just misses the bracelet.

That's all.

- Oh, Dad.
- Oh, Ellery.

Why does it always
have to be murder?

The maestro's got that look,
Inspector.

Must be something he wrote.

Somebody's got to tell
Mrs. Wentworth.

Dad, do you mind if we tag along?
We can go in my car.

I thought you had a book to write.

Well, I do,

but I can dictate a few pages
to Margie on the way over.

Then I'll ride along with Velie.

The thought of you dictating a book
while you drive a car

boggles the imagination.

"He's been handcuffed
to the furnace.”

Uh-huh...

The man in the raincoat.
He's been handcuffed to the furnace.

Norris? Dead?

[ Sobbing ]
Oh, no!

I'm sorry, Mrs. Wentworth.

That -- that m-mummy.

It meant so much to him to be
a part of things again.

To -- to be accepted.

Mrs. Wentworth, I found
a bottle of nitroglycerin pills

in his overcoat pocket.

- He did have a heart condition?
- Oh, yes.

Yes, he'd -- he'd suffered
a mild attack about a year ago,

and he'd been under care for it
ever since.

But you seem to imply

that there was something strange
about Norris' death.

Well, surely you don't believe
that nonsense about the curse?

Just routine, Mrs. Wentworth,
but you have a son, Norris Jr.?

Yes. Bud.

He's... he's out somewhere now,
at a party.

And you got home at, uh...?

Around 9:30.

Of course, I was surprised
to find that Norris wasn't here.

Whoops.

I'm very sorry.
I'm afraid I broke this.

Oh, that's all right, Mr. Queen.
Don't worry about it.

This is a PDV-100, isn't it?

Yes.

I'm very stupid not to have made
the connection right away.

Your husband was
the Norris Wentworth,

the aircraft manufacturer.

That was a very long time ago.

As I recall, he was investigated
by a select Senate committee --

- Ellery.
- Yeah?

You recall very well, Mr. Queen.

My husband was investigated

on the libelist accusation
of war profiteering,

of manufacturing faulty aircraft,
but he was cleared.

He was absolutely cleared
of all charges.

No offense intended, Ma'am.

Ellery, what's your point?

Only this, Dad --

if there was foul play,
there might be a motive here.

Aside from finding poison
in Mr. Wentworth's system,

we're not dealing with murder here.

Maybe so, Dad.

- Here, Mr. Queen. May I take that?
- Thank you.

Let me very honest with you
about my husband, Mr. Queen.

He was not a loved man,
not by anyone.

Not even by me.

No one's going to mourn him.

In fact, there may even be a few

who will cheer a little
under their breath.

So, if it does turn out to be murder,

I think you'll find
you'll have more suspects

than you'll know what to do with.

All right, son, I'll see you at home.

And it's past your bedtime.

Is it really past your bedtime?

Oh, he's been trying to get me
to go to bed at 10:00

since I was 14 years old.

Ellery, did you notice
about Mrs. Wentworth?

- Yeah, her makeup.
- Right.

She said she got home at 9:30,

but if you ask me, she didn't get
to this house much before we did.

You know something,
Margie Coopersmith, with a "C"?

You're absolutely right.

- Morning, Mr. Brimmer.
- Good morning.

Here are the rewrites
of this week's broadcast.

The writers stayed up all night, sir,
and they did a bang-up job.

- Forget that script.
- Sir?

I said, forget the rewrites.
I may be onto something.

But we've hired the actors.
Rehearsal's scheduled for 10:00.

Cancel the rehearsal, fire the actors,
and put the writers on standby.

Norris Wentworth is dead.

Amun-Ra has presumably
struck again.

Well, didn't the police
call it a heart attack?

Heart attack?

Who wants to listen to a broadcast
about a heart attack?

- Well, Inspector Queen--
- Never mind Inspector Queen.

One way or another, I'll prove
that Wentworth was murdered,

despite the inspector
and his celebrated son.

Nobody's capitalizing
on my curse except me.

- It's murder.
- It was a heart attack.

It was murder.

Here's the coroner's report --
no poison, nothing.

It was a heart attack, nothing more.

Maybe it was a heart attack,
but it was murder, just the same.

I talked to the family doctor
this morning.

So did we.

And he gave those nitroglycerin
tablets to Mr. Wentworth himself...

We checked that.

...with specific instructions
to carry them in his right pocket.

- What?
- Ha ha.

When a man has a massive coronary,
it usually cripples his left arm.

So, a guy carrying nitro pills
carries them in his right pocket.

But when I searched the overcoat,
they were in his left pocket.

Wentworth made a mistake.

Well, if he did,
it was a fatal mistake.

I have no time to waste
on a case that's closed!

What about the broken car window?

How about the bracelet
with the missing diamond?

What about the egg stains
on your shirt?

If a big butter-and-egg man
gets knocked off,

I'm supposed to arrest you?

Dad, don't close the door
on this one too quickly.

Oh, speaking of closing the doors,

would you mind doing it quietly
on your way out?

All right, all right, I'll go home
and try to finish my book.

I'll try -- if I can concentrate.

Yes, the little lady
is quite fetching.

No, I didn't mean that!
That's not fair -- really.

- Queen.
- Simon.

And a good morning to you,
Inspector.

Brimmer, how long have you been
outside that door?

Really, Inspector, I haven't yet
been reduced to eavesdropping.

Where's my secretary?!

Oh, I asked her
to bring me an aspirin.

I have this headache.

You were listening!

I thought we might
have lunch, Queen.

I have a reservation
at the Savoy-Plaza for 12:30.

Oh, well, I don't know. I...

Oh, of course you would.

Emile is just back from Marseilles
with some new recipes,

and besides, I thought
I might fill you in a little

on the curse of Amun-Ra.

My treat, of course.

Aha. Okay.

I'll have a Quiche Lorraine,

and for Mr. Queen,
the quenelle of pike --

and a Chablis --
something dry, but provocative.

Very good, Mr. Brimmer.

So, it appears
that the spirit of Amun-Ra

has once more made itself felt.

Oh, the curse?
Oh, I don't know.

Please. I wouldn't suggest
for a moment

that the so-called curse caused
Mr. Norris Wentworth's death.

I quite agree that it's murder.

This business of the pills
being in the wrong pocket

is very persuasive.

You were listening.

Oh, I may have picked up
a chance phrase, a random remark.

But the point is, for once,
you and I seem to be in agreement.

That's why I arranged this luncheon.

I thought that we might
work together.

What's your angle, Simon?

I suppose I ought to be insulted

by the way you leap
to that conclusion, but, no.

I've developed six shows
involving the deaths

of the six previous owners
of the sarcophagus.

Obviously, I will develop
a seventh show,

involving the death
of Norris Wentworth.

And what a coup it would be if I --

we could prove it was murder
and who did it.

A bit impudent, but a lively bouquet.

Well, we could give it a try.

Now, wait a minute, Simon.

You set up this lunch
before you knew

the nitro pills were found
in the wrong pocket.

What makes you so sure
it was a murder?

Well deduced, my friend.

I bring to this table
my own small contribution.

I was with Mr. Wentworth last night
when he received a phone call

which prompted him
to quickly leave his house --

for the museum, I presume.

Have you got any idea
who made that call?

No, but I can tell you this --

when he left, the window of his car
was very much intact.

For whatever reason it was broken,

I can tell you it was definitely
broken at the museum.

Mrs. Langston was the last
to be seated.

She cradled the Siamese cat
in her arms,

caressing it gently,
as the cat's eyes danced --

no, make that "played”
around the room, missing nothing.

As they awaited the re-appearance
of the inspector --

Am I going too fast?

"Re-appearance of the inspector” --
okay.

Where's the inspector --
in the next room with a dog?

Yes. How did you know that?

You used that in "The Adventure
of the Golden Gargoyle.”

- I did?
- Sure.

The inspector sends the dog
into the room,

and the cat doesn't even move.

Don't you remember?

Yes, I do.

Queen, our quarry, I believe.

Margie, you type up what you got,
and we'll get the rest tonight.

Okay. And if I can think of anything

besides the trick
with the dog and the cat,

I'll let you know.

You do that, and it's dinner
at the Stork on me.

Norris Wentworth Jr.

I'm Bud Wentworth.

Simon Brimmer, sir.

May I extend my sympathies
on the loss of your father?

Yeah. Thanks a lot.

And this is Ellery Queen.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Look, Mr. Brimmer--

Mr. Queen and I are cooperating
in a quasi-official investigation

into your father's death.

Investigation?
He died of a heart attack.

So he did, but there may be
more to it than that.

Look -- I don't know what you two
are talking about.

All I know is last night
I did a little bit too much partying.

I didn't get much sleep, so please...

Any particular party?

Well, we started at George Wexler's,
right after we left the museum,

but it was pretty dull.

So, we drove around,
hit a couple bars.

You said "we."

Lois Gordon.
I just met her a few weeks ago.

She's Tremaine's assistant --

not a bad-looker
for an archaeologist.

ELLERY: And Lois Gordon --

was she with you the entire time
after you left the museum?

That's right.

You act as if I need an alibi
or something.

All right. So me and the old man
didn't get along.

He's had enough dough to float
Fort Knox, but I never saw any of it.

Well, that shouldn't be a problem
for you any longer.

What?

Well, now that he's dead,

I presume you'll inherit
quite a bit of his estate.

Lucky me.

And lucky Mom, too.

In fact, lucky everybody.

[ Sighs ]

Well, Queen, we'd better get
over to that museum.

Yes, there's somebody
we ought to talk to.

- Lois Gordon.
- Otis Tremaine.

According to the terms
of our agreement,

delivery was to have been made
no later than --

than...

Look that date up yourself,
would you, Miss Chauncey, please,

and fill it in for me.

Yes?

My apologies, Dr. Tremaine.
There was no one at the desk.

Yes?

Simon Brimmer, sir.

I conduct a modestly successful
radio program

dealing with murder --
modern and otherwise.

Ah.

At the moment, I'm interested
in the mysterious death

of your patron, Mr. Wentworth.

There's nothing mysterious about it.

Claudia -- Mrs. Wentworth, that is --

was informed the death
was due to a heart attack.

We are taking nothing for granted,
Dr. Tremaine.

"We"?

Mr. Queen and I in tandem

are conducting a little investigation
into Mr. Wentworth's death.

I see.

Well, in the face
of what she was told,

wouldn't any other assumption
seem absurd?

Just one small question, sir.

Was the museum
or were you personally mentioned

in Mr. Wentworth's will?

The answer to that, Mr. Brimmer,
is no.

And I don't particularly care
for your suggestion.

I suggest nothing, sir,
but the fact is Wentworth is dead,

and there is a great deal to that.

Bud and I were together
the whole time, just as he told you.

And after the Wexler party,
you drove around --

just the two of you?

That's right.
What's your point, Mr. Queen?

Well, I'm trying to figure out
in my own mind

where everybody was
after the museum was closed

and before Mr. Wentworth's body
was found.

What's the difference?

Well, maybe none,
unless he was killed.

You didn't call him, by any chance,
at his home, say around 9:30?

No, I didn't,

and I'm getting a little annoyed
with the insinuation.

Unlike your books, Mr. Queen,
everything needn't be a murder.

He died of a heart attack.

Perhaps he did.

How long have you known
Bud Wentworth?

We met in December,
just before Christmas --

a celebration
at the Wentworth home.

Excuse me, Miss Gordon.

Cleaning lady found this
in the restroom.

I guess somebody forgot it.

- Mm. No identification in here.
- No, Ma'am.

Drop it in my office, Harry.

They'll probably
come back for it later.

Yes, Ma'am.

Harry, don't you ever
take any time off?

Well, the day man called in sick,
Ma'am, but it's all right.

Living alone now like I do,
it doesn't make any difference.

This celebration around Christmas --

I guess it was
over the sarcophagus.

What else?

Believe me, a lot of work
went into the acquisition.

It wasn't quite as easy
as Norris Wentworth made it sound.

Oh, then you were
in Europe with him?

Of course.

Someone had to authenticate it,

and I hold a PhD
in ancient Middle Eastern Cultures.

Miss Gordon, the day the mummy
was acquired --

that wasn't by any chance
November 28th of last year, was it?

- As a matter of fact, it was.
- It was.

But how did you know?

There -- I told you something
was burning.

No, no, no, right in front of you --
the potholder.

Oh, this smells
good and strong, Dad.

You're probably half-right.

Well, we can forget
about the bracelet as a clue.

Wentworth gave it to Lois Gordon
as kind of a thank-you gift

for acquiring
the Amun-Ra sarcophagus.

A couple of days ago,
one of the diamonds fell out,

and he was returning it
to the jeweler to be replaced.

So, after all that,
it doesn't mean a thing.

Oh, I didn't say that, Dad.

We know for sure
that Wentworth's car

was broken into at the museum.

We also know it wasn't a thief

because the bracelet
was left behind.

But why was the window smashed?

Somebody tried to steal it.
They were frightened away.

By whom?

The bald-headed midget!

Ellery, it's wonderful,
and I figured it out.

The midget, of course.
It had to be.

The midget?

The midget was the only one
small enough

to crawl through the transom.

Well, actually, Margie,
it wasn't the midget.

It wasn't?

No, the midget was in the Turkish
bath the night of the murder.

- Remember?
- Oh, that's right.

Well, if it wasn't the midget

and it wasn't
the man in the raincoat --

Who said it wasn't
the man in the raincoat?

Ellery, where are the tea bags?

Well, it can't be.

On page 27, you specifically have
the man in the raincoat

opening the letter from Dr. Vorschack
with his left hand,

and the murderer is right-handed.

What? Where does it say that?

I told you, on page 27.

Well, if that's true, then we have
to change the clue on page 60.

- Ellery.
- Hmm?

The tea bags -- you know,
the bags with tea in them,

with little tags attached?

Oh, they're in the cupboard, Dad.

Margie, we've got an awful lot
of work to do tonight.

[ Telephone rings ]

Hello?

Yes, Sergeant Velie,
just a second, please.

Dad?

Yeah, Velie?

What?!

Oh, I don't have to talk to them.

All right.
All right, we'll be right down.

- Ellery, get your coat.
- Oh, Dad, I can't.

I got to finish my book.
You know that.

Oh, no, you don't.

You're the one who thought
Wentworth was murdered.

It's your problem.

Mrs. Wentworth and Dr. Tremaine
are waiting in my office.

They want to make a statement.

Let me get right to the point,
Inspector.

Norris Wentworth was not
an easy man to deal with.

Or to live with.

Some months ago,
I met Mrs. Wentworth,

and we very soon realized

how much we enjoyed
each other's company.

Very soon after that...

We began seeing each other.

Well, you can call it an affair
if you like,

but to me, it's been
much more than that.

And to me, my darling.

Then you were together
the night your husband died.

Yes. I barely arrived home

before you and the Inspector
were at our door.

But she was with me every second.
I'll swear to it.

That's not necessary, Dr. Tremaine.

I was afraid you'd discover
the truth, Mr. Queen,

and we wanted
to come forward first.

Otis and I are not ashamed.

Now, with your permission, Inspector,
may I take Mrs. Wentworth home?

- Of course.
- Thank you.

- Thank you, Inspector.
- Bye-bye.

Very strange, isn't it?

Strange in what way?

Lois Gordon and Bud Wentworth
alibi each other.

Claudia Wentworth
and Dr. Tremaine alibi each other.

But if they're lying for each other,
then nobody has an alibi.

Norris Wentworth died
of natural causes.

Nothing will convince me otherwise.

Hold it!

And your name is...?

Mustafa Haddid.

I am known to Dr. Tremaine.

Yes, that's true.

I can assure you, Inspector, that
if Dr. Haddid was in the museum,

he had a very valid reason.

Certainly not to destroy
the mummy of Pharaoh Amun-Ra.

I'm sorry, my friend,
but you're wrong.

I would have burned it, yes.

Better for it to be consumed by fire

than to be put on display
like some sideshow curiosity.

Excuse me.
How did you get in?

There was no sign of forced entry.

Well, I entered just before closing.

I hid in some basement
storage room

until I was sure
the building was empty.

Except for the guard here.

And that's what you did that night,
the night Norris Wentworth died?

Believe me -- I had nothing to do
with his death.

I can vouch for that, Inspector.

On the night
of Mr. Wentworth's death,

I made a very thorough search

of every room
on my first check-through,

to be sure that no one
was staying around.

Now, there was no one hiding
in the museum. I'm sure of it.

My good friend, I...

There is nothing to say,

as long as men
like Norris Wentworth

rape and pillage my country,

stealing its treasures,
desecrating its temples,

and men like you encourage him.

Well, what are we gonna do
about this?

I got a lot of charges here.

Now, please, Inspector.
I couldn't even think of it.

Dr. Haddid happens to be right.

Someday, there will be laws
prohibiting just this sort of thing,

not only in your country --
in all countries.

Well, if you're not gonna
press charges...

I'm sorry.

...there's nothing I can do about it.

Come on, son,
unless you still want

to hang a murder charge
on somebody.

No, not tonight, Dad.
I still got a book to finish by noon.

Oh, it's gonna be
one of those nights, is it?

Well, I'll stop by the drugstore
and get some sleeping pills.

I don't think you should be
looking at those.

Oh, of course, of course.

I'm sure he'll be back soon.

If I knew where
he could be reached, I'd --

That's quite all right.

It's marvelous how Ellery manages
to keep turning these out

and still maintain
a certain degree of readability.

Ellery told me
his new assistant was bright,

but he failed to tell me
you're beautiful, as well, my dear.

Oh, why, thank you.

Your name -- is it Deidre?
You seem so much a Deidre.

Margie Coopersmith, with a "C."

Margie.

I don't suppose Ellery mentioned
where he was off to, Margie?

- No, he didn't say.
- Characteristic.

As you know, Ellery and I
are collaborating

on this latest adventure,
as he calls it.

Are you? That's exciting.

I just love your radio show,
Mr. Brimmer.

How kind of you.

It's so difficult to maintain quality
without the help of good people.

Oh, yes, sir.

I do wish I could find someone
to assist me

in the preparation
of my broadcasts --

someone like yourself, Margie.

But of course I realize

you're probably
contractually bound to Ellery.

Oh, no, no, I'm just typing for him
because of his finger.

A disgraceful waste of your talents.

Once you finish this assignment,
we must have lunch.

Oh, I'd like that very much.

Meanwhile, I'm sure there are
probably developments in the case

that Ellery has forgotten
to mention to me.

Perhaps you could fill me in
on his progress until he gets here.

Mr. Brimmer, are you trying
to pump me?

- Not at all.
- Sure sounds like it.

Well, I just thought
if he kept you up-to-date,

or perhaps something you yourself
had observed at the museum --

I understand you were there.

Oh, sure, but I wouldn't go in,
not with that mummy.

Those things scare me to death.

No, sir, that night
I wouldn't go in there for anything.

Those things what?

I said they scare me to death.

Well, let me get out of your way.

If Ellery returns,
no need to tell him I was here.

- Simon.
- Queen.

- Inspector.
- Brimmer.

I'm gonna make some cocoa.
Want some?

- No, thanks.
- Sorry. I can't wait.

- Well, I was gonna fill you in--
- No need.

We can compare notes tomorrow.

[ Dialing ]

[ Telephone ringing ]

Hello? Yes?

Dr. Haddid, my name
is Simon Brimmer.

- You may have heard of me.
- No.

I have some information regarding
the sarcophagus of Amun-Ra.

I think it would be to your advantage
to meet me for lunch.

Shall we say 21 at 12:00 noon?

Well, I guess it'd be okay,
you being a friend of his and all.

Just a little surprise
for an old comrade.

- Thanks so much.
- Thank you.

[ Sniffs |

"It had to have been you,
Geoffrey Langston.

Only you had access
to the aquarium.

Only you knew the knife
was buried in the sand

beneath the green conch shell.”

That's good.

- That's redundant.
- That's what?

Redundant -- all conches are shells.

- "Green conch" is all you need.
- Okay.

Did you see that guy?

Did you see the way
he came out of that driveway?

That wasn't a driveway.
It was a street.

Pretty narrow street, if you ask me.

Wide enough for a traffic light.

Traffic light? Are you sure?

Careful!

There's your publisher -- next block.

Just in time --
10 minutes before they close.

Margie, where are the pages?

I thought you were
going to bring them in.

Oh.

The car's locked.

Well, unlock it.

Oh, yeah.

I locked my keys in the car.
Now what?

Well, if you want your book
to be on time,

you better break
one of the windows.

Right.

Break... the window.

That's it.

Wentworth's broken car window
at the museum --

now I know what it means.

I may be wrong, but I think I know
how Norris Wentworth was killed

and why and who did it.

Remember the autopsy definitely
established it was a heart attack.

But was someone responsible
for that heart attack?

I think so, and it all has to do
with the broken window

in Wentworth's car
outside the museum

and the key ring in his pocket.

Let's see if we come up
with the same answer.

Ellery, let's get started.

Well, I was hoping Simon
would be here by now.

Well, it's obvious.
He isn't taking any of your calls.

If he was going to be here,
he would have arrived already.

Okay, Dad, let's go.

Ladies and gentlemen,
please be seated.

Thank you.
Anywhere will do.

Now, first let me remind you
that you are here

of your own free will,
at my son's invitation.

Officially, this gathering
is not sanctioned

by the police department
or the district attorney's office,

both of which are satisfied

that Norris Wentworth's death
was accidental.

We understand.
Let's get on with it.

Ellery?

Yes, certainly.

Mrs. Wentworth,
on the night of his death,

your husband received
a phone call from someone.

We don't know who,

but the caller's intent was
to lure him to the museum,

into this wing.

Now, Simon Brimmer and I
have been operating on the theory

that your husband was murdered
because of the pills

and because
of the smashed car window.

But now I realize
that the window was smashed

by Mr. Wentworth himself,

just as I smashed
my own car window this afternoon

when I inadvertently locked my keys
in the ignition.

- What are you getting at?
- Bear with me.

The window was smashed
by Mr. Wentworth.

He retrieved his keys,

but he never used his key
to get in the museum.

What?

But he had his keys.
You found them in his pocket.

Yes, he had them,
but he never used them.

Dad?

This is a set of keys

similar to the ones
carried by Norris Wentworth --

a plain key ring
with seven keys on it.

Now, let's assume, just for a moment,
that this key -- the long one --

is the key to the museum door.

Oh, a local hardware store

was kind enough
to lend us this to demonstrate.

Now, I place the key in the lock,
turn it,

open the door, and extract the key.

Now, watch what happens.
The key falls to the outside.

No matter how I hold them,
no matter how many times I try,

the key falls either
to the left or to the right,

but always to the outside.

But in these photos taken
of Norris Wentworth's keys

as I removed them
from his overcoat,

the museum-door key
is in the middle.

That's impossible
if he had just used it.

Norris Wentworth never used
his key to the museum door.

He was let in by someone.

He was let in by the only person
who, by his own admission,

was in the museum that night.

Harry?

That's right, Mr. Queen.

It was me that called him,
me that let him in.

Damn fool had locked the keys
in his car

and broke open the window himself.

I was waiting by the open door
when he walked up.

How? Why?

I'm not going to say
I'm sorry, Ma'am.

He deserved to die.

That night,
when I realized who he was,

what he'd done
to those boys overseas --

putting together planes
that wouldn't fly...

I saw a gold-star flag
in your office, Harry.

Was that your son?

That's right, Mr. Queen.

Billy flew a fighter plane
over Hamburg,

one of those PDV-100s.

He flew it once, just once.

He never flew back.

Well, Wentworth killed my boy.
I was gonna kill him.

I took out my gun,
and I pointed it at him.

He started begging me
not to shoot --

such a pathetic sight,
whimpering and crying.

I guess all the hate ran out of me

"cause I turned around
and started to holster my gun

when I heard him gasp
and fall to the ground.

I bent down beside him,

and he was starting
to say something about pills.

Well, I found them
in his coat pocket.

By the time I got back, he was gone.

I figured it was divine Providence
that done it to him,

so why should I pay?

So, I put the pills
back in the pocket,

pretended like I didn't know
he was there until I found him dead.

But you put the pills back
in the wrong pocket.

I didn't know it.

I guess I didn't think about...

Look -- I'm willing to take
what's coming to me,

even if you call it murder.

But I'm not sorry he's dead.

That man deserved to die.

[Crying ]

Velie.

[ Telephone rings ]

Oh, the poor man.
Can't we do something for him?

That'll be up to the courts
to decide, Mrs. Wentworth.

- Ellery, for you.
- Thank you.

- Simon?
- Queen.

Just thought you'd like to know
that I've cracked the Wentworth case.

Strange as it seems,

I believe Wentworth
was literally frightened to death.

Ah, you're absolutely right.

I have the press arriving
in a few minutes.

I'm sure you can't
make it over here by then,

but I'll be sure to mention your name,
at least in passing.

Well, that's fine, but actually I--

No doubt, the Egyptian
will make a full confession

when confronted with the facts.

The Egyptian?

That's right --
the Egyptian, Dr. Haddid.

At my request,
a noted archaeologist

analyzed some threads
on Haddid's jacket.

They're over 2,000 years old.

I assumed as much
by the musty odor I noticed at once.

There's no question that Haddid
took the mummy out of the case

in order to frighten Wentworth

into believing that the curse
was coming true.

And, of course,
Wentworth was a heart patient--

Simon, hold on.

Haddid was caught trying to sneak
into the museum last night.

He tried to destroy the mummy.
That's where the threads came from.

What? Why wasn't I told of this?

Oh, I tried to tell you last night,

but you were
in such a hurry to leave.

Nonetheless, Queen, I'm still
convinced Haddid was responsible,

and it's only a matter of time
before--

Hmm?

The guard?

Confessed, huh?

Well, of course
I was getting to that --

an alternative theory
I hadn't quite--

Yes.

Yes.

Yes, well, we must discuss it
over lunch someday.

Good-bye.

[Buzz]

What?

WOMAN: The reporters are waiting
in your office, Mr. Brimmer.

Tell them I am indisposed.