All language subtitles for 11 - The Adventure of the Blunt

In a few minutes, this famous
mystery writer will be dead.

Who killed him?

Was it his mistress?

He was dead already.

The sore loser?

Come on, You hated Manning.
Admit it.

The distinguished publisher?

Oh, that insignificant toad.

The ambitious ex-wife?

I was home in bed.

The underpaid
research assistant?

Murder? What murder?

The loyal secretary?

We drank to Edgar's death.

Or was it someone else?

Match wits with Ellery Queen

and see if you can guess
who done it

And now, fellow connoisseurs
of the gentle art of murder,

once again it's time to present
the coveted Blunt Instrument Award

to the author who has written
the best mystery novel of the year.

May I have the envelope, please?

Thank you.

And the winner is,

for "The Shanghai Solution,"

Edgar Manning!

[ Applause ]

Well...

...since I shall probably never win
the Nobel Prize for Literature,

I suppose I should
be grateful for this.

In return for the honor,
may I congratulate all of you

on your sagacity
and intrinsic good taste

in your choice of book and author.

[ Audience laughs ]

Thank you.

[ Steam hissing ]

[ Phone ringing ]

Hello?

Ellery, Edgar Manning.

I'm having a small celebration
at my house,

and you're missing all the fun.

I've got a miserable cold --

Oh, congratulations, Edgar.
I just heard the news.

Thanks.

But it doesn't make up
for my keen disappointment

over the fact that my only real
competitor for the award

wasn't there for my triumph.

I would have loved to have seen
your look of pained surprise

when my name was announced.

Actually, Edgar, you would have
been disappointed.

I'd have been smiling.

You see, I voted for you, too.

Really?

I was under the distinct impression
that you didn't care for my work.

I think "The Shanghai Solution”
is far and away

the best thing you've ever written.

[ Sneezing ]

Excuse me.

You sound awful.
Just as well you're not here.

The last thing I need
is a pack of germs.

What the devil do you want?

What, Edgar?

Oh, no.
I wasn't talking to you, Ellery.

It's some rash person
who insists on balancing the books.

Ooh!

Hello? Edgar?

What's the matter with the phone?

It just went dead.

That's funny.

Here. Try this.

Guaranteed to kill
every germ in your body.

What is it?

Arsenic!
What do you care what it is?

It's good for what ails you.

I better call Edgar back.

Drink this first.

Dad, I've had
your home remedies before,

and I'd really rather have the cold.

It's just tea. Look.

It needs more gin.

[ Phone ringing ]

Manning residence.

Hello, Mary?

This is Ellery, I was just talking
to Edgar. We got disconnected.

Oh, Ellery, it's dreadful.
Get the police.

Please get the police.

Mary?

Come over, Ellery.
Come over right away.

What?

What happened?

Mary, don't touch anything.
I'll be right over.

Oh, no, you don't.

You're not going anywhere
but straight to bed.

Dad, Edgar Manning
was just murdered

while I was talking to him
on the phone.

Well, wear something warm.
There's a chill in the air.

He was hit with that hammer.
It's got blood on it.

The Blunt Instrument.

I know it's a blunt instrument!

No, the Blunt Instrument, Dad.
It's a mystery-writer's award.

All yours, Inspector.

What do you think, Rosie?

It looks like he was hit high
on the back of the head.

Oh, dandy.

I'll try and have a complete report
sometime tomorrow.

Swell.

[ Sneezing ]

Bless you.

You ought to try a poultice
for that cold, Ellery.

A what?

A plaster for your chest.

It's made with menthol, mustard,
wintergreen, and chicken fat.

Then what?

Stay home.

Why?

Who's gonna want you around
smelling like that?

Oh.

Inspector,

Manning's secretary says
she wants to talk to you now.

Send her in.

Hello, Mary.
How are you feeling now?

Better.

It's such a shock to all of us.

Please, sit down.

Thank you.

I'm still shaking.

What happened tonight,
Miss Parks?

Well, I don't know, Inspector,
except that Edgar was killed.

No, before that,
after the awards dinner.

Oh, Edgar had invited some people
over to celebrate.

He had planned it in advance.

His ego wouldn't let him believe
he wouldn't win.

It was a small gathering.

Edgar didn't have many friends.

There was George Tisdale,
Edgar's publisher,

and me, Edgar's secretary,

and Mateo, his houseboy.

He didn't live in, by the way.
Edgar was fond of his privacy.

Cliff Waddell,
Edgar's research assistant

He was here when we arrived.

He didn't go to the awards dinner.

Magda Szomony, the actress

and more than
a very good friend of Edgar's.

Nick McVey, He writes all
those tough-guy detective stories.

And Edgar Manning.

Now, that is a very
classy-looking hunk of hardware.

Do I detect a note of envy?

A little.
If they had counted sales,

I would have won
that award quite easily.

For "How Deadly is My Gun?"
Really, Nicholas.

- Well, I thought it was a lovely book.
- Thank you.

It was sordid piece of pulp.

Perhaps, but it's outselling
your "Shanghai Solution" 4 to 1.

Isn't that right, Mr. Tisdale?

I'm sorry.
I didn't hear the question.

We were discussing the relative
merits of my classic mystery novel

and his thinly disguised pornography.

Edgar!

If there's anything worse
than a sore loser, it's a sore winner.

Magda, my love,
God has been generous to you.

Don't spoil it by trying to be clever.

I would like to propose a toast,
if I may,

to the author of that wonderful book,
that fine book,

that prize-winning book

"The Shanghai Solution.”

I'll drink to that.

This award should have a healthy
increase in bookstore sales.

Now, why do publishers always
put a price tag on a piece of art?

Since when have you been
bothered by price tags?

Oh!

Leaving our charmed circle, Mary?

Mary, come here.

You're out of line, buddy.

Must you talk the way you write?

Now, if my esteemed research
assistant will repeat his toast to me.

That's funny.
I don't remember toasting to you.

But I will, if you insist.

I insist.

All right.

To Edgar Manning,

may he soon...

...drop dead.

Oh!

Oh, my poor darling!

You heard the toast.
Drink.

- Oh, Edgar, please.
- Drink, all of you!

I know it's a sentiment
you all share.

Okay, pal, if you insist.
You bet.

And so, heaven help us,
we drank to Edgar's death.

You may go now, Mateo.

Very well, Mr. Manning.
Good night.

Amuse yourselves, children.

I'm going to make a phone call.

When I return, we'll play
a delightful, new parlor game.

I'll tell you about my new book,
in which some of you appear.

It should be fun matching
the fictional identities

with the real.

You're joking.

Aren't you, darling?

No, precious, I'm not joking.

That was the last time
I ever saw Edgar alive.

I'm sorry.

It's okay, Mary.

You can go now.
Okay, Dad?

Yeah.

Velie, what happened
to the others?

They're still waiting
in the living room,

except that houseboy and Waddell.

Pick them up.
Bring them in for questioning.

Yes, sir.

This is where Edgar was sitting
when he talked to me on the phone,

alive, victorious,
and if I know Edgar Manning,

feeling very superior.

He was sipping what was probably
a very old, very expensive cognac.

So?

This is where he was killed.

That's right.

Then how did his glass
get over here?

Ask me anything
you want to know, Inspector.

I always had a warm spot
in my heart for policemen.

Why, thank you, Miss So-zo-mony.

Oh, no, no.
It's "Szomony,"” with a soft "S."

[ Sneezing ]

Oh, you should wear a necklace
made out of garlic cloves.

It's a good,
old Hungarian remedy.

Tell me, Miss Szomony,

when Manning said
that he was going to tell you

about the characters in his book,
how did you feel about that?

Well, I don't really know
what you mean?

He wants to know if you felt jumpy?

No, no.

I laughed.
I thought it was a huge joke.

Didn't I laugh, George?

Well, yes, you did laugh.

Now, after Manning went
into his study, where did you go?

Well, I went to the powder room
to freshen up a bit.

Alone?

Oh, really, Inspector.

Mr. McVey, where were you?

I was on the terrace, Inspector,
taking a breather.

Can you get in the study from there?

I really couldn't say, sir. I've never
been in the building before.

Anyone see you on the terrace?

I did, Inspector.

I brought him some coffee.

We were together the whole time.

I'm afraid I was the only one
left in this room,

not that I need an alibi.

I had no reason to kill Manning,
for heaven's sake.

Oh, I know one.

It seems that Edgar was gonna
ditch you for Camellia.

- That's a lie.
- Camellia?

Camellia Justice, Dad.

It's book-publishing company --
the House of Libra.

And Georgie's ex.

Who used my divorce settlement
to go into competition with me.

I take it she wasn't here tonight.

Hardly.

Edgar wasn't that insensitive.

We'll see if the lady agrees

that Mr. Tisdale had no reason
to kill Mr. Manning.

Very well, If you want to take
her word against mine, fine.

Not at all.
Just seeking confirmation.

Now, let's get on with it.

The body was discovered
by Miss Szomony.

But Edgar was taking so long,
I wondered what happened to him.

So I went in to see.

I wish I hadn't.

Well, everyone's whereabouts
seems to be accounted for,

except the houseboy.

And Waddell.

Oh, Ellery,
Cliff had left the room already

before Edgar went into his study.

Did you see him leave?

I head the door slam.

Well, didn't anybody
actually see him go?

How's it going, Mateo?

Mr. McVey.

Is there something wrong, sir?

That all depends
on your point of view.

Yes, I heard the news.

Naturally, I was distressed.

I can see that.

Where did you go last night

when you supposedly
left Manning's apartment?

- Home, to my apartment.
- Anybody see you?

No one.

Come on, you hated Manning.
Admit it!

No.

Then you sneaked back.

You gave a chop
with The Blunt Instrument, right?

[ Door opening ]

What do you think you're doing,
McVey?

I'm doing your job, Inspector.
Somebody has to.

That's one way of diverting
suspicion from yourself.

- Mr. Queen.
- Hi, Mateo.

I swear I did not contribute
to Mr. Manning's death.

Where did you go last night
after you left Manning's apartment?

To my apartment to sleep.
I was tired.

- Anyone see you come in?
- Perhaps the landlady.

She's most observant
and never seems to sleep.

When you left Manning's,
was the door locked?

I pulled the door shut.
I heard the click of the spring lock.

But you have a key, though.

Yes, but Mr. Manning kept another
hidden near the door

in case he forgot his own.

Another key.
Does Waddell know about that?

Possibly, he sometimes
let himself in to work

when Mr. Manning was not at home.

Gone.

That's how the murderer
got back in.

Back in?

After the party.
Find Waddell, we find that key.

[ Sneezing ]

- Bless you.
- Bless you.

- Thank you.
- Here, try this.

- What is it this time?
- Lemonade with a touch of cinnamon.

- Dad, you know I hate lemonade.
- You don't have to like it.

You want to get rid of your cold,
don't you?

What I want is to read the medical
examiner's report on Edgar Manning.

Well, it's not in yet,
but I talked to Rosie.

He said there were two marks
on the body,

one on the head,
one on the left knee.

- The left knee?
- Yeah, a bruise.

Don't ask.
That's all I know.

No dice, Inspector.

Waddell's house
was staked out all night.

He never came home.

Well, find out where he went
and go after him.

Now, get his picture, spread it
all over the afternoon papers.

Now, get him.

Right. Something else, Inspector.
Maybe it means something.

- Maybe not.
- What?

Well, that Camellia Justice dame,
Tisdale's ex-wife.

What about her?

The doorman at her place said

she came home
from the awards dinner alone

and said she was gonna turn in.

So?

That's highly irregular, he said,

on account of she never
comes home that early.

Dad, what does that mean to you?

Maybe she was trying
to establish an alibi.

Any reason why she'd want
to bump off Edgar Manning?

I don't know of any,

but that doesn't mean
she didn't have one.

Forget about it.
She wasn't even at the party.

With that missing key,

she might have missed the party,
but still made the murder.

Now what are you doing?

Making a date.

Ellery!

Good morning, Camellia.
May I?

Yes, I thought you were late.
I was gonna wait inside.

It wouldn't fit, it's one of mine.

Well, then what was it doing
under the --?

Ellery, what are you up to?

Well, I had to find out if you knew
about the extra key under the mat.

You did.

Oh, yes, I've been here before
with Edgar.

He was always forgetting his keys.

Come in out of the draft, Ellery.
You, too, Miss Justice, please.

Aren't I due some kind
of explanation?

There's a chance the killer used
the doormat key to get in.

We had to find out
if you knew about it.

And you did.

But I didn't take it.

Obviously you didn't take it.

Otherwise, you wouldn't have looked
under the doormat to begin with.

Ellery, when you asked me
to come here,

you said you wanted to talk
to me about my ex-husband.

I didn't know I was going
to be tricked.

Oh, I'm sorry, Camellia. I --

Look, as long as I am here,

and since you obviously have
no idea of the killer's identity,

maybe I can help.

Did you know that Edgar
was going to leave George

and sign a long-term contract

with my publishing house,
the House of Libra?

We know that.

Well, did you know why?

No, tell us why.

One of the principal characters
in Edgar's new book

is a man named Gordon Teaberry,

a publisher who cheats
his authors out of their royalties.

Gordon Teaberry, George Tisdale.

Yes, I think my ex-husband
had plenty of reason

to want Edgar Manning dead.

You ought to run a check
on his account books.

I can't understand your taking
the word of a vindictive woman.

I didn't. That's why I brought along
my own auditor.

Mr. Melville has helped me put away
some of the biggest crooks in town.

I find that very reassuring,
don't you, George?

How typical of you, Camellia, to take
your enjoyment at my expense.

Whatever do you mean?

Finished already, Mr. Melville?

Nothing to it.
A piece of cake.

A complete waste of time.
There's nothing wrong with my books.

On the contrary.

There's a shortage
in Mr. Manning's account.

A shortage?

Yes, and clumsily concealed
to the well-trained eye.

You see, Inspector?

How about it, Mr. Tisdale?

Osterwald must be responsible
for this.

Who's Osterwald?

As of now,
my former head bookkeeper.

He's the only one who could have
fiddled with Manning's account.

How much is missing?

$5,236.53.

How do we know it was Osterwald?

Do you think that I'd jeopardize
my reputation for a measly $5,000?

But this is only one 1947 account.

Think of all the thousands
that went before.

Dad, I think we ought
to check out Osterwald.

If he was stealing and Manning
knew about it, it gave him a motive.

Osterwald, that insignificant toad.

He wasn't even
at the party last night.

But there's still that extra key
floating around, and it ties in nicely

with what Edgar said about the killer
wanting to balance the books.

Where does Mr. Osterwald live?

Here they come, Inspector.

Freeze!

Stephen Osterwald,
you're under arrest.

Hey, what is this?
What did he do?

Is he your husband?

Are you nuts?
He just offered me a ride -- to Cuba.

Shut up, Edie. Don't tell them
anything till we talk to a lawyer.

What do you mean, "we"?

Why don't you make it easy
on yourself?

How?

By being fully cooperative.
Do you want to make a statement?

All right.
I want to confess.

You killed Edgar Manning?

No!
I only dipped into his royalties.

I didn't even know he was dead
until I read the morning papers.

Is that when you decided
to call in sick...

Yes.

...and leave the country?

I knew somebody would get around
to checking the books.

All right, I juggled a few figures,
but I didn't kill anybody.

Where were you at 11:15?

11:15? PM.?

Yeah.

Oh, in there,
in my hotel room, in bed.

Can you prove it?

Please, I'm a gentleman.

Yeah, he can prove it.

Room service sent up some
ice cubes and a pint of bourbon.

That's right.

Will the boy remember?

Oh, he'll remember.
The big spender tipped him a nickel.

[ Sneezing ]

This soup comes
from the corner delicatessen,

complete with a guarantee
to cure the common cold.

Ellery...

...soup.

Spoon.

Eat.

My dear inspector.

Miss Szo-mony.

Oh, it's "Szomony,"
with a soft "S," like in a "kiss."

What a pleasant surprise.

How'd you get past my secretary?

Well, I told the poor dear
that her mascara was running,

so naturally she ran
to the powder room to fix it.

Oh, naughty, naughty, naughty.

You're not wearing garlic
around your neck.

Oh, I thought that was just
to ward off vampires.

You know, you might be right.
I sometimes do get mixed up.

Somehow I feel you're not here
because you're concerned

with my son's health.

Oh, you are quite right, Inspector.

There is something
I feel my duty to tell you.

You see, Edgar was going
to fire his secretary, Mary Parks.

How do you know that?

Well, he told me, darling.
Edgar told me everything.

Unfortunately, I told him
everything, too.

Oh, I just talked to George Tisdale,

and he told me that you opened
Edgar's safety-deposit box

and read his notes for his new book.

That's right.

Oh, well, this is rather embarrassing,

but was there anything
about me in those notes?

You mean something you might
have told him in confidence?

Foolishly.

Nothing important,
just a little indiscretion.

Well, do I have to get
into embarrassing details?

Were any of those indiscretions
connected with Manning's murder?

I can't believe my ear.
What a thing to say!

Did you hear your father,
Mr. Queen?

Dad!

I'm sorry, but the killer might have
been concerned with those notes, too.

Well, I don't have to listen
to these accusations.

Good day, gentlemen.

Miss Szomony, I read the notes.
You're not in them.

Not at all?

-Oh.

That's marvelous.

Inspector, excuse me,
I didn't know you were busy.

Yeah, Velie?

That Waddell character,
there's still no sign of him.

- Are you looking for Cliffy?
- I'll say we are.

We've covered planes, trains,
buses, flophouses.

Well, why don't you try
the public library?

Public --
Why didn't I think of that?

- Let's go, Dad.
- No. Wait a minute.

You're not going anywhere
except home to doctor that cold.

I want to talk to Waddell.

I'll find him,
bring him to the house.

You can talk to him there.

- You promise?
- Promise. Gesundheit.

[ Sneezing ]

Oh, poor dear.

- Mr. Waddell?
- Shh!

- Is your name Clifford Waddell?
- Shh!

Yes.

- You're under arrest.
- Shh!

Come on,
let's get out of here.

Shh!

Wait -- wait, what's the charge?

Suspicion of murder.

Murder? What murder?

Let's go.

Let's go.

How could you not know
about the murder?

I didn't see the papers.

I've been working at the library
since it opened early this morning.

Then you went out
for coffee and a sandwich?

No, I picked that up on the way
to the library.

You knew that Manning
had an extra key under his mat.

Yes.

You took that key so you could
let yourself back in later.

What for?

I had my own key.

Excuse me, I missed that.

I said I had my own key.

How can I be sure
that that's not the missing key?

Well, Mary was there when Manning
gave it to me, ask her.

Where did you go last night
when you left the Manning place?

To an all-night movie on 42nd Street.

What did you see?

Not much of anything.
I was asleep most of the time.

But I did see part of
"The She-Wolf of London"

and the end of
"The Spider Woman Strikes Back."

Is that the one with
Gale Sondergaard, where she--

Ellery!

Listen, the truth of it is,
that when I left Manning's last night,

I was really drunk.

I was walking along the sidewalk,

and I knew I was gonna fall
right on my face.

And there's the all-night movie,
so I went in.

I woke up this morning,

because someone was spilling
popcorn down the back of my neck.

The library was about to open.

It's just a couple of blocks away,
so I walked over there.

Why did you propose
a toast last night,

the first toast

"to the author of
'The Shanghai Solution™?

I suppose I was just carried away
by the occasion.

But Edgar told Magda

that he couldn't have written
that book without you.

Without my research.

No, I'm not talking
about your research.

The toast last night to the author
of "The Shanghai Solution”

-- not Edgar Manning.

Cliff, how much of that book
did you write?

All of it?

Weren't you proposing a toast to
yourself last night, the first time?

I guess I was.

See, when I first started to work
for him, I was doing general research.

But because I know so much
about China,

I started plotting out the whole book
for him, and eventually --

You wrote it.

And Edgar never gave you
any credit for it.

No, no credit,
no share of the royalties,

I didn't get a thing.

Must have been poetic justice
for you to kill him with the award.

Kill him with what?

The Blunt Instrument.
The gold-plated sledgehammer.

I'm sorry, Inspector.

I might have wanted him dead,

but you're gonna have to find
somebody else.

You see, I'm afraid it's impossible
for me to have killed Edgar Manning.

Cliff Waddell was telling the truth.

He couldn't possibly
have killed that man.

Why not?

Well, because he can barely
raise his arms above his waist.

What are you talking about?

Shrapnel.
He caught a bad one at Okinawa.

I did the patchwork myself.

A good job, all things considered.
But he can't lift a heavy object.

Can't possibly swing
a weight of any sort.

Well, he looked
perfectly normal to me.

And I find that very gratifying,

the way his appearance
wasn't changed.

I was mostly afraid of a limp.

Limp?

Yes.

Were his legs injured, too?

Oh, not the right leg, but the --

left leg was riddled
with shrapnel.

However, with a built-up shoe,
physical therapy,

and lots of good,
old leatherneck spirit,

that boy came through just fine.

Captain Hill, according
to his service record,

Waddell won the Navy Cross.

For distinguished heroism
under fire.

And he was an instructor
in unarmed defense, judo, jujitsu.

Ironic, isn't it?

And now he can't even defend himself,
let alone kill another man.

Captain, thank you very much
for your cooperation.

[ Sneezing ]

Why, son, what you need
is a shot of penicillin.

Wonder drug.
Clear up all that infection.

No, no, please.
It's just a head cold.

You roll up your sleeve, son.

- No, honestly, I --
- Ellery, listen to the doctor.

Dad, I don't --

You know, someday modern science
will eliminate the common cold,

if they can just find the key.

The key.

Well, of course.

There's only one person that could
have taken Manning's other key.

Ouch!

What makes you think
I took that key?

Process of elimination.

Mateo the houseboy
would have had a key,

as would the researcher, Waddell.

And it stands to reason

that he would have given a key
to Mary Parks, his secretary,

and to his mistress,
Magda Szomony.

What about Nick McVey?

Nick McVey was never
in that building before.

He wouldn't know
that Edgar Manning

kept a key under the mat,
but you were a frequent visitor.

You probably saw him use it often.

That's true,
I stole it during the party

while Edgar was making
his phone call to you

only seconds
before he was murdered.

Why? Why did you need it?

Well, I thought the notes
for his new book were in the study.

I wanted to come back later
and see them for myself.

Afraid of what he'd written
about you?

Oh, no, no. That's the furthest thing
from my mind.

Edgar did drop a few hints
about going with Camellia,

but I thought he was doing that
just to aggravate me,

at first, that is.

At first. At first.

Well, when did you start
to take it seriously?

When he refused to show me
the material for his new book.

You do understand

why I wanted to have a look
at those notes, don't you?

You wanted to see if the book
was any good.

I would have hated to lose a best
seller to my ex-wife, I'll tell you.

Well, as it turned out,
I never did use the key.

And I guess, aside from Edgar,
the only person who knew

what was in that book
was Camellia.

No.

There's one other person
who had to know what was in it.

Good day to you, sir.

- Oh, there you are!
- Greetings!

How's your cold?

Well, I think they're trying
to kill me with cures.

It was very nice of you
to invite me to lunch.

My pleasure. How do you like it?
With or without sauerkraut?

Without.
Easy on the mustard.

- And what about you, buddy?
- The works. Everything.

And what do you want to drink?
Orange, cream --

How about a couple of beers?

Oh, not for me.
I'm allergic to anything alcoholic.

Root beers.

Root beers!
I can handle that in moderation.

- Two bottles, please.
- Coming up.

- I better get that bench.
- Swell.

- This seat is taken!
- I know, I just took it.

Surprise!

- Oh, are you following me?
- I got to look after my interest.

Thank you.

Hiya, pal.

Oh, hiya, Nick, what a nice surprise.
Here you are.

- Thanks.
- Nick, can I get you anything?

Yeah, root beer's swell.

Oh, would you like my hot dog?

No, I hate sauerkraut.
Thank you.

Mary, do you always
bring along another guy

when you're invited to lunch?

He doesn't trust me.
We're engaged.

Engaged?

Well, congratulations, Nick.
I wasn't trying to steal your girl.

Oh, I knew that
when you brought her here.

How did Edgar feel about your
being engaged to another writer?

His ego went into shock.

Is that why he was going
to fire you?

- With a push from Magda.
- Magda? Why?

The green-eyed monster, pal.

See, Edgar and Mary
went steady for a while.

Nick.

That was long before
I appeared upon the scene.

Well, now, that sounds
like jealousy right there, Nick.

Not enough to play taps
on Edgar's head.

There's this character
in Edgar's notes named Mick O'Day,

a hardheaded writer
who once tried to slug it out

with a couple of cops who
arrested him for drunken driving.

One of the cops was shot.

But that was accidental.
He used his own gun.

That wasn't in the notes.
Was it, Mary?

No.

All right.

Mary told me that Edgar
was gonna use me

as a character in one of his books.
So what?

So she might have thought
you were sore about it

and lost your temper with Manning.

Nick was on the terrace
when Manning was murdered.

Where were you?

I guess I better tell you the truth.

Mary --

Nick, please.

But you don't have to tell him
anything. He's not the police.

Do you want to wait
until one of us is arrested?

I was in the kitchen
making coffee, alone.

There goes my alibi.

And Mary's.

38,000 copies in 3 months.

A runaway best seller
on the top of every list.

One best seller
does not a publishing house make.

Perhaps, but I'm happy to say

that the House of Libra
is not only solvent, it's profitable.

Profitable enough to offer
a huge advance to Nick McVey?

Oh. Nick's been talking.

Camellia, I think you and I should
dispense with the amenities

and face a few hard facts.

I happen to have
a contract with Nick.

Which expires shortly.

Oh, George, for Pete's sake,
don't pout. This is business.

You always take it so personally.

Just listen to me now, Camellia.

Edgar Manning is dead.
I'm under suspicion.

I have a feeling you are, too.

Along with half the literary
community in New York City.

Camellia, if it's a fight you want,
you can have it.

Heaven knows we had enough
practice while we were married,

but this is no time to draw
the battle lines,

at least not publicly.

I think you and I should
join forces.

- What do you mean?
- A merger.

Oh, for a minute, I thought
you were propositioning me.

Don't you dare laugh at me!

You're hurting me!

I'm sorry.

Camellia, I love you.

I always have,
and I suppose I always will,

despite your relationship
with Edgar.

- That was professional.
- No, I knew what was going on.

But I knew Edgar
far better than you, darling.

He had no intention of leaving
my company for yours.

It was just a game he played.

He used you
for his own amusement.

He just teased you along
as only Edgar could,

because he knew how desperate
you were to make Libra a success.

Oh, no, wait a minute.
You knew that, didn't you?

- No.
- Of course you did.

You knew that Edgar
was making a fool of you.

- George, leave me alone.
- Camellia, look at me.

Now, listen, Edgar's dead.

I don't care what happened
between you.

What matters now is the two of us
and nobody else.

Nobody.

You looking for something?

I didn't know
there was anybody here.

Of course, you couldn't know
that the lights were on.

Lights. Yeah.

Some detective you are.

I guess my mind
was on other things.

What other things?

I was running through the events
that led up to the murder,

you know, adding up the facts.

- Get an answer?
- No, not yet.

You wouldn't be holding out
on me, would you, pal?

Now, why would I do that, Nick?

Maybe it's an answer
I wouldn't like.

You ever read any of my stuff?

Yeah, a little.

Then you know how the hero
gets information

from the guy that won't talk,
don't you?

Yeah, he punches it out of him.

Nick, did you just threaten me?

Would I do that, hmm?

Yeah, you'd do that.

And it wouldn't do you any good,

'cause I don't know
who killed Manning.

By the way,
how did you get in here?

Mary gave me her key.

Why?

She asked me to get
a couple of books for her.

What books?

These books.

Oh, Nick, you would have found
those books

when you searched the room.

Search the room for what?

For evidence the police didn't find.

Don't forget to turn the lights out
when you go...

...pal.

Who drank all the orange juice,
as if I didn't know?

Vitamin C, Dad.
It's good for a cold.

Why do I always end up
squeezing the oranges?

Have you read the medical
examiner's report?

Yeah.
It was a waste of time.

I already knew that Manning died
from a blow on the top of the head.

The left side of the top of the head.

Now, assuming the killer was
standing behind, he was left-handed.

Maybe he was ambidextrous.

There's another thing.
The bruise on Edgar's knee.

Now, according to Dr. Rosen,

it probably occurred
at the time of death.

So?
He got a bruise on his knee.

How? And what?

Well, if he was sitting at the desk
when he was hit on the head --

He slumped forward, and what's
that got to do with his knee?

[ Doorbell ringing ]

I'll get it.

Morning, Maestro.
Where's your dad?

Squeezing oranges.

Did you check
with the houseboy's landlady?

Yeah, she said she saw him come in.
He went straight home.

If he'd hung around two minutes
longer, he'd have missed his bus.

Inspector.

What's up, Velie?

This came special delivery.

I thought you'd want to see it
right away.

What is it, Dad?

Our old friend Anonymous
has sent us a letter.

That's funny,
the doorman said she was in.

Inspector, do you smell gas?

Velie.

[ Coughing ]
Velie, the gas range, quick!

Here!

- She's still alive, Dad.
- Get her on her feet.

Velie, black coffee, hurry!

Operator, this is a police
emergency call.

You're sure she'll be all right,
Doctor?

Yes, just keep her awake
for the next few hours.

- She'll be all right.
- Thank you.

The coward didn't even sign
his name.

Is that why you tried to kill
yourself, because of that?

I think it's about time you told us
the truth, Miss Szomony.

Truth, it's been so long that I
don't even know where to begin.

Well, I was just beginning
to make myself a name

as a movie actress in Budapest,

and then the Nazis came in,
and I escaped to Brazil,

and a very nice man
helped me to get to Hollywood.

Without papers?

Without anything, darling.

Only my jewels and furs
I had on my back.

Then I met Edgar.

He swept me off my feet
with his brilliance.

And in a rash moment,
I told him everything.

It was a terrible mistake.

Did he hold it over you?

Did he hold it over me?

At first, I wanted him to marry me

and make me an honest
first-class citizen.

But he was afraid

that if I was a citizen,
he wouldn't have any hold over me.

Oh, other men proposed to me.

Why, even Cliffy.

Cliffy asked me to marry him
right in front of Edgar.

Poor boy.

Edgar made a horrible joke of it.

What could I do?

Edgar threatened
to go to the authorities

if I so much as looked
at another man.

When Manning decided to make
a guessing game out of his book,

you were afraid
you'd be exposed.

I was terrified.
That's why I went to his study.

To kill him?

To reason with him and ask him
not to be so heartless.

- Then you decided to kill him.
- No, he was dead already.

When I kept knocking
on the door, he didn't answer.

So I went in,
and I found him dead.

Poor Edgar.

Inspector, what are you going
to do with this letter?

There's not much I can do,

except turn it over
to the federal authorities, I'm sorry.

To Immigration?
Surely you could do something else.

Ellery?

Ellery!

Well, you've seen all the clues.

Have you got it?

I think I do.

Now, the important thing
to remember,

besides what happened
to the door,

are the brandy snifter
on the carpet

and the bruise
on Manning's knee.

Have you got it now?

I hope so.

Just before Edgar Manning
was killed,

he was talking with me
on this telephone.

Then someone came in the room
and interrupted the conversation.

Permanently.

He referred to the intruder
as a rash person,

someone who wanted
to balance the books.

Please. We've been over that.

Ellery, I'm convinced now George
had nothing to do with this.

Can't we drop this business
about balancing the books?

Well, actually, Camellia,
it's a matter of interpretation.

Could have been referring
to the House of Libra's insignia,

balanced scales.

Now, the intruder killed
Edgar Manning,

and all of you
had the opportunity.

Not me.
I was home in bed.

And each of you had a motive,
except Mary.

He was going to dismiss her
as his secretary.

People get canned all the time,

but that doesn't mean they're gonna
go out and kill their bosses.

But doesn't Mary
have some kind of allergy

that causes her
to break out in a rash?

Now, if she was forced
to drink champagne --

Camellia, "rash”
has another meaning,

"reckless, foolish, impetuous.”

Who does that sound like, Nick?

Now, wait a minute, Ellery.

You're mixing me up with
the characters in some of my books.

But you are impetuous, darling.

Just last week, I heard you
fighting with a book critic

from the "Gazette."

All right, so I mix it up a little.
But why would I try to kill Edgar?

Maybe you didn't like
the way he treated Mary.

Or maybe you resented
the fact of his winning an award

that you felt should
have been yours,

and you decided
to "balance the books."

Maybe you'd like to have
your nose rearranged.

How about you, Miss Szomony?

Me?

You were terrified that Manning
was going to expose a secret

that you, in your own words,
were "rash” enough to reveal to him.

But I don't care anymore.
I want everybody to know.

I am in this country illegally,
and I can be deported at any time.

Well, now I said it.

Edgar wasn't the only one aware
of your alien status, Miss Szomony.

You told us that Cliff Waddell
proposed marriage to you.

Yes, but I turned him down.

Why on earth would a $75-a-week
research assistant

think that he stood a chance with
a glamorous actress like Magda?

Answer:

He knew you needed an American
husband to stay in the country.

Waddell,
you wrote that anonymous note.

Cliffy! Why?

Why not?

I wanted to even the score, and it
seemed like a good way to do it.

You shouldn't have been so quick
to turn me down, Magda.

Maybe I wasn't good enough for you.

No, Cliffy.

But you'll be thinking about it,
Magda, all the way back to Europe.

Proving once again that Waddell
has a terrible temper

and is inclined to be rash,

as in the gesture of throwing
champagne in his boss's face.

It's impossible for me to have hit
Manning with the Blunt Instrument.

- Captain Hill verified that.
- He did, and I believe it.

And, for the record,

you did not kill him
by hitting him in the head.

That's not the way
Edgar was killed.

By the way,
this was not the murder weapon.

I don't get it.

How was he killed, Ellery?

I'll be Edgar Manning.
Velie, would you be the killer?

If you say so, Maestro.

Blah, blah, blah, blah.

"What the devil
are you doing here?

No, I'm not talking to you, Ellery.

It's some rash person who insists
on balancing the books."

What do you want me to do now?

Pick up that thing
like you're gonna hit me with it.

Well, if he was hit from across
the desk, the killer was right-handed.

No, Dad. No. Watch.

Take a swing at me.

What?

Really.
Take a swing at me.

"Ellery, Sergeant Velie's
trying to kill me.”

What?

Don't you see?

Edgar would have shouted
the killer's name to me.

And as you just saw, the killer
could not reach far enough

across the desk
to strike the fatal blow.

He had to be behind Edgar.

Oh, Edgar saw him after he came
in the room, saw he was upset,

but he still turned
his back to him.

Proving what?

Proving that he wasn't afraid of him,

that he didn't have
reason to be afraid.

Someone he thought
wouldn't hurt him.

A woman maybe
or maybe a trusted friend.

Or someone he thought
couldn't hurt him.

Now, Edgar had a brandy snifter
in his hand.

This is where it fell.
Boom.

He was tilted back comfortably
in his chair like this.

That's why we thought
that the blow came from above.

We were looking
for a left-handed killer.

We should have been looking
for a left-footed killer

somebody who was an expert
in judo, jujitsu

a fighting technique that employs
not only the hands and the arms,

but also the feet.

When I saw Sergeant Velie kick
down Magda's door this afternoon,

I realized that only
the force of a kick

would have propelled Edgar's chair
to bang into the desk

and for him to bruise his knee.

The killer had to stand
on his good leg.

The one that wasn't hit
with shrapnel.

And then, he kicked with it,
with a built-up shoe.

You can't prove it.

The medical examiner's report
said that he was struck

on the top of the head
with the Blunt Instrument Award.

That was a nice touch.

Picking up the award
and smearing it with blood.

It threw the police off the track
and got you off the hook.

The police lab would like to
inspect your shoe for blood stains,

Mr. Waddell.

Manning stole my novel.
He deserved to die.

No, Cliff.

Maybe he did cheat you,

or maybe you didn't get
all the credit you should have,

but nobody deserves
to be murdered.

Velie, take him down and book him.

Yes, sir. Let's go.

- Congratulations, Ellery.
- Yeah.

A real nice guess, pal.

Magda, I've been thinking
about your problem.

Oh, so have I.

Magda, your experience
just cries out to be told

between the covers
of a best seller.

"Magda Szomony's personal story
in her very own words,”

as told to some writer.

How nice.

I can read it on the ship
all the way back to Hungary.

Oh, no, no, no, not with our contacts
in the State Department.

You'd be surprised how many
of those fellas down there

have unpublished novels.

So, shall we discuss
the contract in my office?

Our office, George.
Our office.

Of course, my love.

"Ours."

To Ellery Queen,

for an outstanding job
in unmasking a killer

and for celebrating
the same event

at a restaurant
with his aged father

a restaurant noted for --

the delectability of its lobsters
and waitresses.

Thank you, Dad.

You know, I feel a lot better.
I think I beat my cold.

- I haven't sneezed once today.
- Good, glad to hear it.

[ Sneezing ]

Well, gesundheit.

Forget that restaurant.
I'm taking you home.

Now, now.
That's nothing.

We're gonna nip this thing
in the bud.

I got the most fantastic cure-all,
hot lemonade and sassafras,

mixed in with the extract
of a pound of calves' liver.

I can't stand liver.

And after a rubdown with menthol
and oil of peppermint,

you take a bath
in scalding chicken soup.

Hold the noodles.