All language subtitles for Somewhere.in.the.Night.1946.DVDRip.XviD-America.cd1.ENG

Somebody turned on a light.

It's a faraway light...

but I don't have to be alone
in the dark anymore.

My head hurts.

Somebody's here with me.

Easy. Lie still.

Tell him it hurts.

Why can't I talk?

Doc, look at me.
Look at me hard.

See it in my eyes.
I need somebody.

It hurts me.

Help me.

He came to a little while ago.
Seems to be in a lot of pain.

He'd be letting you know it, too,
if his jaw weren't bandaged so tightly.

Let's control the pain. Quarter grain M.S.
Every four hours, more often if necessary.

- Yes, sir.
- What's happened to me?

What am I doing here...

when I don't even know
where I am?

- Is he gonna be all right, Doc?
- Taylor? Every chance in the world.

It was a pretty tough
job though.

- He must have been right on top of that grenade when it blew.
- He was.

- How's he gonna be, Doc?
- In time, as good as ever.

That's good enough. Nothing but
clean sheets from here on in, Taylor.

- You're gonna be okay now.
- Taylor. Who's Taylor?

So he's okay now.
So what?

What about me?
What about me?

I don't know my name.

You. Talk to me. Act like I was alive,
not just somebody with eyes and no name.

Think of a name.
Taylor.

Think of another name.
There must be other names.

Taylor. No.

Taylor. No.

Taylor. Taylor.

Taylor.

Taylor.

Taylor.

Good morning.

Good morning.

It is one too. One of Honolulu's
finest summer mornings.

Why not take a look at it?

Come on. Try.

See that tree? There's one just like it
outside my window back home.

I'll bet there's one
you remember too.

The doctor said that you're to
sit up for a while today.

Your jaw's knitting
beautifully.

The wires will come out
in a day or two.

When you get tired,
rap on the nightstand.

It won't be long
before you'll be able to call for me.

I'll bet that'll be
a relief.

I'll call all right. I'll yell.

I'll want to know why
they call me George Taylor.

Who's George Taylor,
and who am I?

For all I know,
that's the first tree I ever saw.

Still, that's what it is.
That's what I call it.

They call me Taylor.
So for all I know, I am Taylor.

I've gotta take time, work on it.

Time to think. Hard.

Now I'm tired.

Where's the nurse?
The nightstand, rap on it.

What's that? A wallet.

Must be my wallet.

Yeah. There I am again.

That's me all right.

Good old George Taylor.

How have you been, George?

"These are
my last words to you.

"That's why I write them. So that I can
always be sure that these were my last.

"But I despise you now,
and the memory of you.

"But I'm ashamed
for having loved you.

"And I shall pray
as long as I live...

"for someone or something
to hurt and destroy you-

"make you want to die...

as you have me."

Who writes letters like this?

Who do they write them to?

Men they despise,
whose memories they despise.

The memory I haven't got.

Won't be long, and I'll have to talk.
Think fast. Now they only know my name.

If I tell 'em I don't remember,
they'll backtrack.

They'll dig up that memory
and throw it in my face.

I've forgotten that man. Somebody's praying
for him to be hurt and want to die.

I won't let them know I can't remember.
I won't let them dig him up!

Taylor, George W.

Hello, Taylor.
Sit down.

You're now in the process of being separated
from the armed forces of the United States.

You feel you have a right to know answers
to a lot of questions...

about yourself
and how you'll fit into civilian life.

Those questions need not necessarily
be restricted to the G.I. Bill of Rights...

employment, insurance
and such.

Oh, by the way.
Before I forget.

Your seabag,
it's been located.

- Any change in your civilian address?
- My civilian address.

I could ask one of the boys
to drop it off.

I'll, uh-
Maybe I'd better pick it up myself.

Well, why wait around? It might be
this afternoon, it might be a couple of days.

I imagine you'll be wanting to
get back to Los Angeles.

We could have it
delivered to the, uh...

Martin Hotel.

Will you be going back there?

Martin Hotel.
In Los Angeles. Yes.

I'll be going back there.

Can you give me
some information?

- That depends.
- A man named George Taylor lived here three years ago.

It must have been in January. Did he give
an address he had before he came here?

Or did he leave
a forwarding address?

- We're not supposed to-
- It's kind of important.

Yeah?

Summer, 1942.

January, 1943.

"T," "T," "T."
Taylor.

- Did you say George Taylor?
- Yes.

Afraid you have the wrong hotel, son.
There's no George Taylor in our books.

Well, maybe it was November
or February.

This runs through from July to July,
and there's no George Taylor.

I'm sorry, son.

What's the matter?
Aren't you feeling all right?

Yeah. I- I guess
I just made a mistake.

I thought, uh-Well, I see you got
the Purple Heart, and I thought that maybe-

No, no. It's okay.

- I don't suppose you've got a vacancy, have you?
- We're all filled.

- Always one or two.
- Thank you.

Our, uh- Our bellboys
are all out of the army...

but they still ain't convinced
they won't get jobs as bank presidents.

- It's, uh, 618, straight ahead as you get off the elevator.
- Thank you.

And, uh, I'm sorry about
not finding your friend.

Yeah. This is it all right.

That'll be 13.60
storage charges.

Three years and seven months
it's been laying here.

Another five months,
and it'd have been sold for the charges.

That's the longest I ever heard of
anybody checking a briefcase.

Even a trunk-
Unless it had a body in it.

Hey.

Larry Cravat?

"Your pal,
Larry Cravat."

Thank you very much, sir.
Come again.

And I'll be sure
and send that uniform.

I'm George Taylor. I just got out of
the marines. I've got an account here.

Here's my identification.

I'd like some money.

Of course. I'll check the account
and have it for you in a moment.

Larry Cravat.

My friend who opened the account for me.
Could you give me his present mailing address?

Cravat.
Larry Cravat. Sure.

- If you'll pardon me a minute, Mr. Taylor.
- Anything the matter?

What's going on?
Isn't the account all right?

It's perfectly all right,
Mr. Taylor.

If you need any more identification,
I have my discharge-

- If you'll just wait a minute.
- Wait? For what?

If you don't mind, there's some questions
we'd like to ask you.

- Questions? I don't get it.
- It'll just take a minute, Mr. Taylor.

It'll have to be
some other time.

Maybe I can help you.

I was looking for Cravat,
Larry Cravat.

What made you think
he was hiding in the desk?

Well, I got a letter
from Cravat on your stationery.

Lots of people use our paper.
Nobody here by such a name.

The letter was written three years ago.
Maybe he worked here then.

I was working here then.
I don't know no Larry Cravat.

- Maybe he used to come in a lot. Maybe somebody else knows him.
- Nobody else is here but me.

He might come in again. Will you tell him to
get in touch with me? It's very important.

George Taylor
at the Martin Hotel.

George Taylor,
the Martin Hotel.

Thanks.

Hey, uh, maybe you oughta
try around the corner.

- What's around the corner?
- Caf�. Called the Cellar.

Because it's in a cellar.

Lots of guys get loaded there
and then come over here to sweat it out.

- Maybe you oughta ask there about your pal.
- What time's it open?

How do I know?
When it gets dark.

Thanks. I'll try it.

- Larry Cravat come in yet, honey?
- Larry Cravat?

- I'm sorry. I wouldn't know.
- Thanks anyway.

- Good evening, sir.
- Mr. Cravat's table.

- Mr. Cravat. With a "C" or a "K"?
- "C."

I'm very sorry. Mr. Cravat has
no reservation this evening.

- Well, he might have forgot. I'll wait for him at the bar.
- Thank you.

Thank you, Mr. Mitchell.

Mr. Mitchell
anybody special?

- He's a customer.
- You must know a lot of customers.

- You must know a lot of names.
- Enough. What'll you have?

You name it.

- Been around here a long time?
- Ever since they took the bars off the door.

Friend of mine used to come in a lot.
Maybe you know him.

Larry Cravat?

I, uh, used to know a Larry Cashman,
but that ain't Cravat.

Well, maybe you could ask around.

Maybe some of the other boys
would know him.

Could be.
I'll, uh, ask around, Mr. -

Taylor. George Taylor.

I'll ask around, Mr. Taylor.

You forgot to knock.

I can explain
if you'll let me.

Out.

Not right now.

- Get out of here.
- I'm sorry.

- Suppose I yell the roof off.
- Then I'd have to stop you.

I bet you'd try,
at that.

You know, I can't make up my mind whether
this is a pitch or you're some kind of a nut.

- But if this is your idea of a pitch, then I know you're a nut.
- Who owns this place?

- Who wants to know?
- I do.

This and a half a dozen other spots are owned by
a very nice guy named Mel Phillips.

He keeps me working.
Have you got a match?

He must keep
a lot of people working.

All kinds of people.

Sure. Busboys, waiters,
captains, cooks.

Characters that sit around
on barstools waiting for me.

- Is that supposed to make sense?
- What do you think?

In about two minutes, a bouncer is
coming back in here with no sense of humor.

He's a foot bigger than you in all directions.
That's what I think.

"Christy darling,
by the time you get this, I'll be Mrs. Larry Cravat.

Mary."

Thank you.
How terribly gauche of me.

- Not at all.
- Do you happen to know when Larry will be back?

- Larry who?
- Thompson. Larry Thompson.

He's my uncle.
He lives just down the hall.

- Sorry. I don't.
- I couldn't be more f�ch�e.

After all, a lady shouldn't have to wait at all
for a gentlemen- even her uncle.

Much less in a public hallway
with no place to sit down...

to wait for Larry.

There's a place to sit down
in my room.

How nice of you
to suggest it.

This is rather exciting.
Unconventional, to say the least.

Haven't you got
a French word for it?

Should we just abandon convention
and introduce ourselves?

- My name's Phyllis.
- Phyllis what?

Oh, I imagine
it's one of those things.

Rich, high-class family
wouldn't want it known...

their daughter waited
around crummy hotel halls.

- Is that it?
- Well, that's putting it a little crudely.

Not too rich
and high-class.

A compact that cost three bucks tops,
a torn hem on your skirt...

a matchfolder that says
you eat at a cheap cafeteria...

and you weren't waiting
for anybody but me.

Unless you can see through a door.
You should have thought of that when I closed it.

So, what goes?

You know, there's been
a terrible shortage of men.

Yeah. So we heard
in the Pacific.

This war must have been
murder on you poor women.

We used to cry
our eyes out about it.

So, when I heard there was
a man in 618-

- You thought he might know where Larry was.
- Yeah.

Only there isn't any Larry. It's just a name
that you made up to start me talking.

- About what?
- Oh, just this and that. Quelque chose.

Maybe I just thought
you ought to know about me and that...

I ought to know about you.

- Did you have fun?
- I've had more fun drinking a bromo seltzer.

- Hello.
- This is the barkeep at the Cellar.

I got that information you wanted about...
that certain party.

- About Larry Cravat?
- We're closing up now.

You come down here,
I can answer some questions.

- You can answer one right now. Who told you where to reach me?
- I'll wait for ya.

- Come in the front way.
- Yeah, but I never told you where I-

Taylor.

Somebody wants to see ya.

How do you do,
Mr. Taylor?

Nice of you to come.
Please get in.

Hubert, open the door
for Mr. Taylor.

I didn't come here
to meet you.

True. But I came here
to meet you.

Professor Einstein
to the contrary...

there is just so much time.

Every moment gone
is a moment gone.

Please. Step in.

- Why?
- Get in the car.

The bartender was paid
to call you...

to arrange
this rendezvous.

He has long since gone home to his wife,
his bed and his racing form.

- You and I have much to talk about.
- What, for instance?

Are you being stupid, Mr. Taylor,
or stubborn?

- What, for instance?
- I can't believe you're stupid.

Larry Cravat then,
for instance.

- What about Larry Cravat?
- That was going to be my question to you.

- You tell me.
- Come.

Sit beside me,
and we tell each other.

I'll listen from here.

Not stupid...

but stubborn.

Mr. Taylor, are you ready to tell me
the whereabouts of Larry Cravat?

Then will you tell me...

why you want to know?

I'm just looking for him.
He's my friend.

Larry Cravat has no friends...

and you are to stop looking for him,
Mr. Taylor.

Do you understand?
You are to stop looking for him!

- Take him out of here. Dump him someplace.
- Where, boss?

There was an address
in his pocket.

"723 Gramercy Place."

Take him there.

Okay. Okay. I quit.

Now what?

How does the inside
of your mouth feel?

Like it's full of
raw hamburger.

That's just what
it looked like.

- What did they hit you with?
- Rubber hose.

- I can't figure you out.
- You're not an open book, exactly.

Why did you steal
Mary's picture?

Well, for one thing,
she's married to a man I'm looking for.

She's Mrs. Larry Cravat.

If you even knew Mary,
then what you just said...

is as dirty and rotten
as anything I've ever heard.

I don't know her, but if she's
Mrs. Larry Cravat, I want to.

- You can't.
- I've got to.

Mary was my closest friend.
She was my partner.

I went home one Christmas,
and she wrote to me.

In one letter,
she met Larry Cravat.

In the next,
she was in love with him.

The third had
that picture in it.

I received one more letter
from her after that.

She waited three hours at the city hall,
but he never showed up.

When I came back, she was dead.
An accident.

She didn't look where
she was going when she crossed the street.

She couldn't see.
She had her heart in her eyes.

I'd like to meet
Larry Cravat someday.

Quite a character.

I'd like to meet him too.

So would the boys in the back room.
They didn't believe I didn't know where he was.

Why do you
want to meet him?

I think I'll go now.

How far do you think
you'll get?

The nearest foxhole maybe.
They'll be watching my hotel- all sorts of people.

What's your name?

Taylor. George Taylor.

It's all over town.
I may run for dogcatcher.

Look, I've gotta
talk to somebody.

I'll go crazy
if I don't talk to somebody.

I'm somebody.

I think you are.

What do you know
about amnesia?

Not much. Something
that happens to you.

You forget who you are
or where you belong.

- Isn't that it?
- Yeah.

Every now and then you read about it
in the newspaper-

a guy named John Doe
was picked up in a fog.

Never happens
to anybody you know.

It happened to me.

Yeah. For all I know,
I might have been born six months ago.

That's a joke because six months ago
I woke up in a hospital.

That's where babies
are born, in a hospital.

Only this was different. It was in the South Pacific,
and it wasn't the maternity ward.

My jaw was wired.
I couldn't talk.

I couldn't ask who I was.
I- I nearly went nuts.

Then I found my wallet.

There was a letter in it. No name. No signature.
Just a letter.

It-

It told me about myself.
It told me good.

From then on I lived
with that letter.

It went around in my head like a crazy squirrel
on a hopped-up treadmill.

I was scared,
and I was sick.

Sick to my heart at what
the letter said I was like...

and scared of anybody
finding it out.

Scared I'd find it out myself.
I didn't want to know anymore.

So I kept my mouth shut.

I got away with it,
got my discharge.

And I thought maybe I could start
with a brand-new scorepad.

But you can't just
throw away-

How many years of living?
I don't even know.

Do you know what it's like, Christy,
to be alone in the world?

Really alone
in the whole world.

A billion people,
and every one of them a stranger.

Or what's worse,
not a stranger.

Somebody maybe
who knows you, hates you...

wants you to die.

Then last night I found
another letter.

This one was from
Larry Cravat.

It said he was my pal.

Imagine, I had a pal.

So I started
looking for him.

That was this morning.

Since then, I've been
chased by hoodlums, beaten up.

That's quite a pal
you're looking for.

I can't be choosy.
He's the only one I've got.

It's like that joke about the crooked
gambling house. He's the only one in town.

So why don't I go find
another town?

- You mean run away and hide?
- Why not?

Sure. Why not?

So I'll be alone for a while.
It won't be for long.

I'll make up a story
for myself.

I got away with it before.
I can do it again.

I'll go where people will believe me,
where they'll leave me alone.

Where I won't have to answer questions
and ask 'em.

As long as you believe yourself and leave
yourself alone and not ask yourself questions.

I'm tired of being pushed around.
The war's over for me.

- I don't have to live afraid anymore.
- Except when you're by yourself.

And alone.

I've got to find that guy.
Even if he's the heel of the world...

I've got to find him,
because he knows about me.

What am I gonna do,
Christy?

You'll keep swinging.

Something's got to break.

Who's that?

Take it easy.
Maybe this is the break.

I forgot to tell you.
I phoned Mel Phillips while you were out...

- and asked him to come over.
- Why?

Because I want him to
beat you up some more.

- Hi, Mel.
- Hello, Chris. What's the trouble?

It's in there.

George Taylor,
Mel Phillips.

This is the character
I phoned you about...

the one that keeps falling through doors
with me on the other side.

- Hello, Taylor.
- Hello.

Some hot coffee, Mel?

- Thanks, Chris. No sugar.
- I know.

I understand your trouble started
at one of my places. The Cellar.

- Do you want to tell me what happened?
- It's all right.

You may have heard
I don't like that sort of thing.

I've kept the hoodlums out of my clubs,
and they're gonna stay out.

- I'd appreciate your telling me what happened.
- It's all right. Forget it.

I called Mel before
you told me about things.

Thank you, Chris.

If you make up your mind to stay around,
I'm sure he can help you.

All right, Taylor.
Will you help me?

There's a reason
I was so late getting here, Chris.

The police called
just after you did.

One of my bartenders
was found in the vacant lot.

- They figure he was dumped out of a car.
- Which bartender?

- John.
- Was he the one I talked to?

I asked him if he knew
a man I was looking for.

After that, he set me up with the two characters
that chased me to Christy's room.

Who was the man
you were looking for?

Name's Larry Cravat.
He's beginning to bore me.

Larry Cravat. That's funny.
I think I know it, but I can't place it.

- What does he do?
- I don't know.

Whatever he does,
he seems to keep pretty busy.

Why are you
looking for him?

- I just want to find him.
- Private reasons?

They're good enough.

Well, anyway, there are two of us
looking for him now.

- There are more than two of us, Mr. Phillips.
- The police, for instance?

- Maybe.
- Any reason why we can't go ask them?

They might want to know
who's asking and why.

Which takes us back
to the private reasons.

Look, Taylor.
If I go to the police, and I probably will...

- don't worry about my bringing you into it.
- I appreciate that.

I could put you in touch with a friend of mine.
He's a police lieutenant.

His name is Kendall. He's an all right guy.
He'd keep it off the record.

Thanks just the same.

Do what you can though,
will you, Mel?

- You know I will, Chris.
- That's my boy.

You'll have me believing that.
Look out.

So long, Taylor.

So long, Mr. Phillips.
Thanks.

Not at all.
Good luck.

Good night, Chris.

- Well?
- He's a nice guy.

That's the only kind
I know.

Except me.

- I'll go get some sheets for that couch.
- I can't stay here.

Why not?

I, uh, won't need any sheets.
This'll do fine.

Well, then,
I'll see you in the morning.

Don't forget to look under your bed,
lock your door.

I'll do that.

- All right. Suppose we take a good look at each other.
- Let go of me.

Who told you to watch me?
Who sent you here? Who?

Sent me here?
I've lived three blocks away for 17 years.

Just because I stopped under a tree
to light a cigar. What are you, crazy?

Funny it had to be that tree.
And it's pretty late to be taking a walk.

What's so funny about that tree?
Suppose I work nights, and when I come home-

What business is it
of yours anyway?

Why don't we call a cop
and let him ask the questions?

Sure. Let go of me,
or I'll call a cop.

Now what?

I can't play alone like this anymore.
I'm getting the jumps.

Chasing shadows.
I'll be hearing noises next.

Christy, call up Phillips,
will ya?

Tell him I want to talk to
that police lieutenant. Kendall.

Ah. In case you don't know it, George,
this is why you fought the war.

The four freedoms
and fried shrimps for Christy.

That was the battle cry
at Iwo Jima. Thank you.

Here he comes.

- Hello, Mel.
- Hiya, Don.

Sorry I'm late. Looked for a while
like I wouldn't get away at all.

Go on.
Sit down. Sit down.

Yeah, we're a little
shorthanded over at the office.

Big postwar boom
in homicide.

We went ahead and ordered.
What'll you have?

Oh, I never eat lunch.
No. It keeps me sleepy all afternoon.

- You've seen Christy around the Cellar.
- Yeah. Sure. How are ya?

And this is the friend I called you about.
Tom Carter.

- Tom, meet Lieutenant Kendall.
- Hello, Lieutenant.

Hiya, Carter.

Hey. That stuff'll kill ya.

Say, I know what's
strange about you.

You've got your hat off.
It's hard for me to believe you're a detective.

You're kidding,
but I get that on the level all the time.

It's almost impossible to make a pinch
without your hat on.

They just won't believe ya.
Well, that's the movies, I guess.

If they'd only make pictures where detectives
would take their hats off indoors...

just like anybody else.

I was wondering, Don, whether you could
give Tom here some information.

Tom Carter, wasn't it?
What about?

Would you know anything
about a fella named Larry Cravat?

- Quite a bit. Would you?
- Not a thing.

Pal of mine in the service asked me
to look him up about a personal matter.

This, uh, pal of yours
in the service-

I suppose he was killed
before he could tell you very much about Cravat.

- That's right.
- Oh, that's too bad.

- You know where he can be reached?
- If we did, lady...

maybe we'd reach for him.

No, he dropped out of sight
quite a while ago.

We did a lot of lookin',
but since it was impossible to believe...

that he was any smarter than us,
we decided he'd been bumped off.

Now, if you'd have asked me that
two days ago, I'd have guaranteed that.

What happened since two days ago
to change it?

Yesterday an ex-soldier, named George Taylor...

showed up at a bank
with a letter from Cravat.

That's why I asked you
whether your pal was dead.

He acted like-

He acted like he didn't
want any part of the place.

Hasn't been back to his hotel room since.
It's interesting, you know?

You said if you knew where Cravat was
you might reach for him.

- Is it all right to tell us why?
- Oh, sure. It's no secret.

When Cravat faded out,
two million dollars faded with him.

It was all over town at the time.
Didn't you know about it?

I never knew anybody that could count that high.

That pal of yours,
the one that got killed...

he didn't have
a couple million dollars stashed away?

Sure. Lots of us did.
We save it out of our 60 a month.

I'm not impressed. I make that much
in tips on Monday night.

- But may I ask one tiny question?
- Mm-hmm.

Who was Larry Cravat?

Well, to begin with,
he was a private eye.

- He came out-
- Pardon me. It sounded like you said "eye."

A private eye
is a private detective.

- Oh.
- Yeah. He came out here maybe five years ago from the East.

He got a license, painted his name
on the window and put his feet on the desk.

Then for about two years, he investigated
husbands that played golf when it rained...

and wives that didn't come back from
the public library till midnight.

But he paid his rent
on time.

And then somebody dropped
two million clams right in his lap.

Coffee?

- Please.
- Tom?

I never touch it.
It keeps me awake.

You better have some.
You're going to be pretty sleepy this afternoon.

That was some drop- two million bucks.
How's a thing like that happen?

Well, it's a long story.
Don't ask for details, but here's most of it.

It started over in Germany when one of the Nazi
hotshots saw the handwriting on the wall.

He sent the two million
over here.

And then before he could
come over after it...

he got knocked off by one of
the fellow members of the lodge.

And here was this big chunk of dough
floatin' around loose in this country...

like a pair of dice
at a firemen's ball.

It moved east to west.

Each time it moved, it left a stiff
behind it with his fingers stretched out.

The boys play rough for
that kind of lettuce, you understand.

Somehow it got to Los Angeles.
Somehow Cravat got mixed up with it.

I don't know much more
than that.

Except that when Cravat blew,
so did the jackpot.

- Sounds like one of those " to be continued next issue" stories.
- Yeah.

Well, I gotta get back. I shouldn't have come,
but I did it instead of my lunch hour.

You shouldn't go without eating like that.
It's not good for you.

- Lieutenant.
- Yeah? Something else?

- How does this other fella tie in?
This, uh-What's his name? - Taylor.

George Taylor.
I don't know yet.

Maybe not at all.
Maybe he has as little to do with it as any of us.

I should think you'd have picked him up.
You must have a description.

Oh, those eyewitness descriptions.
Right now he could be anything...

from a jockey
to a Siamese twin.

Later on you narrow 'em down. No. He'll, uh-
He'll probably come in by himself sometime.

If not, we'll go out
and pick him up.

These-These fortunes. They kill me.

This ain't bad.

Well, I'll, uh, see you
some more, huh? Bye.

- Bye.
- Bye, Don.

Not bad at all.

"Confucius say,
'When something smell bad, keep nose clean."'

Boy, I certainly fooled him.

I told you he was
a smart cop.

He was a hungry cop.
I'll say that much.

You know, anybody that dug up Cravat
would be digging up a couple of million with him.

That's a good reason for trying.
That's even a good private reason.

It's not mine, if that's what you mean.
I've got no interest in the money.

Well, I'm a businessman, and frankly,
I'm interested right now.

Maybe we can
work something out...

where you wind up with Cravat,
and I wind up with what I can get.

- Help yourself.
- And I wind up with a pair of nylons, I suppose.

You name it, Chris.
All or any part of what I've got.

Speaking as kind of
a partner now...

I'd like to know a little more about
what happened at my place last night.

You might ask around
about a character named Anzelmo.

- Anzelmo?
- Very polite man with a very wet face.

He shut his eyes every time Hubert hit me,
then he told him to hit me again.

I've heard tell of Anzelmo. They say it in whispers.

I'm sure he's just
a misunderstood boy.

Well, of all the nerve. A ticket.

And I had lunch with a cop.

Seems somebody left a note.

For you.

"L.C. 42111/2 North Summit.
San Pedro."

Isn't that a little childish
for a detective lieutenant?

Leaving notes around
like Easter eggs.

- What makes you so sure it was Kendall?
- Who else?

- Who else, Taylor?
- I've gotten beyond caring. L.C. Is only one name in my book...

and it means I've got someplace
in particular to go this afternoon.

- Maybe I oughta go with you.
- Yes.

- No, thanks.
- But I've got my own reasons now.

They come after mine.
Cravat and I gotta be alone when we meet.

- All right if Phillips drops you at the hairdresser?
- Sure.

Good.

Things don't happen like this, you know.
It's too easy, too pat.

- Practically an invitation.
- It might be smarter not to go alone.

- Probably would be.
- But you're going anyway.

What would you
want me to do?

Will you call me? Will you promise
to call me by 6:00 at the latest?

- I'll be at the Cellar.
- Are you going to worry, Chris?

This is my car you're driving,
with four new tires.

- They don't grow on trees, you know.
- Tough guy.

Sure. I'll call ya.