All language subtitles for Kolchak.The.Night.Stalker.S01E02.The.Zombie.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-squalor_track3_eng

Popular folklore would
have us believe...

that there exists
in the underworld...

ruthless men
who fear nothing.

This story
should debunk that myth.

- August 14, 2:00 a.m.

While the upper strata
of the syndicate...

were accustomed
to dealing in millions,

the foundation of
their fortune was here
in their countinghouses,

in the small change
of the numbers racket.

Mr. Albert Berg,
head collections man.

A graduate of an Ivy League
business school,

he was an incompetent, even
by syndicate standards.

The only smart thing
he'd ever done was
marry the boss's sister.

Willie Pike--
he had never been convicted
of anything by anybody...

except
the boxing commission.

Willie took a dive
into the canvas...

and on through into
the bulletproof car set.

Willie was making a bundle,
a bundle he would
never get to spend.

-

2:30 a.m. Willie Pike,

onetime heavyweight
contender,

now just one heavy pile
of lifeless junk.

According to the police,
Willie had died
from severe blows.

A gangland killing--
no suspects, no leads.

So, what else was new?

I got into the office
before the other idiots
arrived...

and banged off my story
and thought I'd heard
the last of it.

- Ohh! It shouldn't
have been there.
- What did-- What?

No food or beverages
in this office.

All right. It's okay.
Don't worry about it.
Uh, no!

I'll clean it up myself.
It's all right.
Just leave it as it is.

Here. Will you just do me
a favor, please, and take
this in to Mr. Vincenzo.

Pretty please?

Good morning, Carl.
Did you get those extra
pencils you wanted?

- Oh, yeah.
- Listen, I read
your Willie Pike story.

Oh, well, you must have
taken up speed-reading.
I just typed it.

- It's very good. Really.
- Oh? You've got it
upside down.

- Oh.
- What do you want of me?

I'm starving.
Let's go down to Manny's,

grab a cup of coffee
and a piece of Danish.

The last time
you invited me out
for coffee and Danish,

I ended up in
Sioux Falls, Iowa, covering
a hardware convention.

- And the time before that--
- Well, listen.

Can't a man take
a coworker to coffee
without being suspect?

Coworker? The last
time you called me
a coworker,

I spent three days
rewriting the obituaries,

because Charlie Creach
was out on one
of his benders!

Coworker?
I had no coworker!
I was the coworker!

- This is big, really big.
- Y-Y-Yeah.
Yeah, right up to here.

A police raid.
TAC squad units.

- Syndicate burial ground.
- When?

Sometime today. You'll be
the first one there.
It'll be an exclusive, Carl.

- Syndicate?
- Yep.

- Exclusive?
- Yep.

What's the catch?

- No. Abs-- No, no. No way.
- Now-Now-Now, hear me out.
Hear me out now.

We've been very unfair
to Miss Marmelstein.

- I--
- She's very bright
and very capable.

And I think she
has the makings
of a fine reporter!

No! I work alone!
That--

What? Listen. Vincenzo!

Now, listen. Listen.
Don't you understand?

Her uncle is--

Is Abe Marmelstein,
the big muck in I.N.S.
in New York.

- Yeah.
- Wh-Who I have
to answer to.

- Yeah, but I don't!
- Yeah, but you have
to answer to me!

Listen, keeping Monique
assigned to recipe columns,

keeping her tied up filing--
that's wrong, very wrong.

She wasn't hired as
a secretary. She could
be a journalist, Carl,

- a very good journalist
with your help.
- W-With my help?

Yes. I think you and Monique
would get along very well.

I have a feeling there's
a similarity between
the both of you.

She has the same kind
of savvy, the same
kind of drive!

Well, I'll agree
with you on one thing.
She's got a lot of drive.

Now, it's your byline,
Carl, all the way.
She's only there to learn.

- Absolutely not.
- You won't hear a word
out of her!

- She'll listen
to every word you say.
- No!

Absolutely, infinitely,
definitely no!

I don't care what
anybody else thinks.

Listen. I know the malicious
talk that's goin' on
in the office about me.

I mean, "nespotism"
has nothing to do with it.

- What?
- "Nesitism."

- Nepotism.
- Oh, that's right!

Uncle Abe didn't go
to the Columbia School
of Journalism. I did.

I'm fully trained,
and I'm fully qualified.
All I need now is a chance.

I'm glad you brought
that up. Things may get a
little rough this afternoon.

- Rough?
- Rough. Yeah.
Maybe even dangerous.

James and Perry Russo.

I'm ordering you
to surrender at once.

We have you
completely surrounded.

Time, 4:20.

The apple farm
and cider works owned
by James and Perry Russo.

James and Perry Russo,
I'm warning you
to surrender at once.

Open fire! All units!

Captain Leo Winwood
and I...

had a relationship
that was long and bloody,

like the Crusades,
only without the chivalry.

-

- Get down!
-

Get down!
You'll get your head
blown off!

- What--
-

Get that stupid female
out of here!

- No, wait. I got an idea.
- What?

- Yeah, well,
I'll tell you what you do.
- What?

They're gonna come running
back on this side here,
and you can get the shot.

- Oh, yeah? Really?
- Yeah!

Yeah, yeah.
You get inside there.
You'll get some pictures.

- Oh, oh, oh. Okay. Okay.
-

What kind of a crazy stunt
were you trying to pull
with that dame, Kolchak?

I had never met her
before in my life.

You'd stop a bullet
with that cabbage blossom
you call a head.

- Don't expect to ride
in one of our ambulances.
- Yes, sir!

Then came the part...

that makes the news
what it is today,

getting pictures
of the bodies.

- Sorry, gentlemen, but
this barn is off-limits!

- There'll be
no pictures taken!

- Clear this area!
- Clear the area!

- A few words, sir.
- Clear the area!

- There'll be
no pictures taken!

- Clear this area!
- Clear the area!

Since I wasn't allowed
in the barn,

I thought I'd have a
chat with Gordon Spangler,

also known
as "Gordy the Ghoul."

An enterprising fellow
who tends the morgue,

Gordy has struck gold
in the land of the dead.

He runs a lottery based
on the birth years...

of the corpses
he was hired to watch over.

Charming.

I'll take two.
- Any particular numbers--

- Whatever. Just let's get
this nonsense over with.
- Okay.

- What can I do for you?
- You got the Russo brothers
in here yet?

Oh, yeah.
They're here all right,
nice and snug.

Oh, but I couldn't
comment on that.
Why, I'd get in big trouble.

Why, I wouldn't make
a peep about that,
not even for 20 bills.

There's a wall around them.
I've been iced out of it.

But, Dr. Wedemyer
sent for this during
the autopsies.

Willie Pike,
ex-boxer, ex-numbers dude.

They brought him in
two nights ago.

Yeah, yeah. I remember.
I wrote about it.

- He died from severe blows,
didn't he?
- Mm-hmm.

Wait a minute.
Wait a minute. They call
that severe blows?

There's another thing,
Kolchak.

- Real weird.
- Oh, come on, Gordy.
Look, I'm broke!

- Okay, okay.
This is a freebie.

But you got to help me
schlep this guy.
He weighs a ton.

They brought him in
with the Russos.

Now, here's the weird part,
Kolchak.

- This black guy
we're gonna schlep?
- Yeah?

- We had him in here
last week.
-

Wait! What do you mean,
you had him in here
last week? Dead?

Uh-huh. As dead as six
.44 Magnum slugs can
make ya.

But I never saw those slugs
draw chicken blood before.

- And that's what that guy
had in his ears.

- Chicken blood?
- County Morgue. Spangler.

Oh, hold on. It's for you.

- Ch-Chicken blood?
- That's right.

Listen, Kolchak.
Monique is gonna call
her Uncle Abe.

- Abe "The Smiling Cobra."
- In his ear?

- That's right.
- What are you
talking about?

- What happened?
- They buried him.

- Buried him.
- Bury who? Abe Marmelstein?

If she gets to him,
he's gonna come down on me
like a ton of--

- Chicken blood.
- Whatever.

- Then I'm gonna
come down on you.
- Why?

- That's management.
- I don't know.

- You're gonna have
to apologize to her.
- Can you help me?

Yeah, I think I can convince
her to come to the phone.
Now, you hang on.

- Help you?
- Yeah, you know, the what,
where, who, how and why.

Well, yeah. I guess so...
for a fee.

For a fee.
Terrific. Terrific.
Yeah, hello. Hello?

Everything's gonna be
all right. He's gonna
apologize to you.

- Hello?
-

- I'm listening.

Hello. Hello!

- I'll kill him!
-

9:00 a.m., August 16.

The official
police briefing--

as foolish a game as any
that "Gordy the Ghoul"
could make up.

And so, uh, you see
we had no alternative...

- but to return a lethal
barrage of weapons fire.
- Uh, sir.

- Sir, Kolchak, I.N.S.
- Sit down, Kolchak.

Yes, sir. Rumor has it
that Willie Pike did not
die from severe blows...

but died
by having his spine snapped.

There's another rumor that
says that the Russo brothers
died the same way.

Now, what about it?

Now, in terms of the corpses
buried on the Russo farm,

we have uncovered six.

We believe that there may
be as many as 15 or 20 more
yet to be uncovered.

Uh, sir, you haven't
answered my question, sir.

You know, Kolchak,
these meetings
are held as a courtesy.

At my discretion, certain
members of the press
could be denied access.

Well, I wouldn't miss
very much, sir.
For example,

I didn't hear one word
mentioned in your report...

of a third body found
in the Russo brothers' barn.

- A black man.
That's right, sister.
- Well.

For once, Mr. Kolchak
is not stating rumor,
but fact.

A third body wasfound--

Negro, male,
as yet unidentified.

- Sir?
- Good day.

Sir, that black guy's spine
wasn't snapped.
He was shot.

But not by the police,
unless they're using .44s.

Who was he,
and what was he doing
in that barn, sir?

Sir?
-

Go on. Get your own
story, will you?

A phone call to "Gordy
the Ghoul" informed me...

that the black man
in question was being
buried at city expense.

- I should let him
rest in peace.
-

Hi there. Carl Kolchak,
Independent News Service.

Uh, is that grave
over there for the body
from the morgue?

- Tell me about it.
- Who are they burying?

They want union trouble,
I could blow the lid
right off.

You know, it's against
the law to put two parties
in the same plot,

unless
it's a family plot.

- Two parties?
- They buried a party there
last week.

They're stacking 'em
like they would be in
a high-rise to save money.

Oh, what a mess
to come back to after I've
been out sick with the flu.

- Yeah.
-

- Take care.
- Yes, sir.

Looks like we're
the only mourners here.

Kolchak, you keep a lot of
people away from their jobs
by your nosin' around.

Tell me, why is
a gold-button captain
of the city's finest...

attending the burial
of a black pauper?

And who is this black pauper
that was buried
in this cemetery last week,

ended up in the Russos'
burial ground yesterday...

and then finally ends up
in this cemetery today?

Kolchak,
now you get out of here.

Or let me put it
another way--

If you continue to butt
into this situation, you're
gonna find yourself...

pounding on your
typewriter with casts up
to your shoulders.

You gonna break my arms,
Captain?

Now, would I
wanna do a thing
like that to you, Kolchak?

Just ask yourself.

- Thirty-one it is.
- Oh, whatever.

Let's just get this stupid
game over with. Tell me!

Well, the black guy's
a Haitian, up-and-comer
in the numbers.

Got it about a week,
uh, 10 days ago--

- .44-caliber Magnums.
- Yeah, the caliber
I know all about.

Oh, yeah. I forgot.
You got that for free.

Well, his name is
Francois Edmonds. Syndicate
hit by the looks of it.

- Why the syndicate?
- The Russos probably
figured...

that Edmonds swallowed
some heavy receipts.

- It happens all the time
when bookies get panicked.
- Oh, Gordy.

It's happened to me
a couple of times.
It tastes awful.

Now, maybe they dug him up,
took him to the barn for
some exploratory surgery.

After the autopsy?
That doesn't make any sense,
Gordy.

No. But there's
been a lot of flak in
the past few months...

between
the black numbers operators
and the syndicate,

according to my
usually reliable sources.

Black numbers operators?

South Side?

I tried placing a numbers
bet on the South Side,

but none of the bookies
would even touch me.

The few bookies
who would talk...

said that since I was
a former Francois
Edmonds's customer,

I'd need something called
"a lucky number."

Finally, I got an address.

Yes? I'm Uncle Filemon.

What you want
the houngando for you?

I'd like--
I'd like a lucky--
a lucky number.

A lucky number
costs $11 in advance.

Dollars in advance--
You wouldn't be related to,
uh-- No, no, of course not.

- Now,
what you dream last night?
- I beg your pardon?

Come on, mon.
Tell me what you dream.

So I can pour in
these bones and the corn
and figure out the number.

Oh, oh! I see.
Yeah, I see. Yeah.

Well, I-- I had a dream
last night about
a friend of mine.

Uh, Francois "Edmond."

This must have been
very, very bad dream.
Your friend is dead.

- Yeah, I--
-

Oh.
What do you use those for?

Dinner.

- Delicious
with black beans and rice.
- Oh, yes.

- Uh--

- Hey, you don't
got your number!
- My, aren't these, uh,

dolls interesting,
aren't they?

You go right on ahead
and wait on these
gentlemen here.

I'm just, uh,
browsing, that's all.

Now, wait-- We're getting
a little tangled up here,
fellas. If you can just--

Okay. Now, can I have my--

- You know who I am,
Mr. Kolchak?
-

Bernard "Sweetstick" Weldon.

You once described me
in an article as being...

"the duke of the South Side
numbers fiefdom...

and all-around civic
headache."

- You remember now?
- No, that--

You know, that's a mistake.
No, that's my brother, uh,
MarshallKolchak.

Yeah, he's the one
with the big mouth.

Poppy and some of the other
boys say you been tryin' to
place a numbers bet all day,

but they say you're more
interested innames
than numbers.

Like Francois Edmonds.

Public don't wanna read
about a young man
cut down in his prime.

Well, yes, I couldn't agree
with you more, actually.

That's exactlywhat
I told my editor.

I didn't wanna come here
and pry around.

I mean, he's dead, isn't he?
I mean, Francois is--

- is dead.
- He's dead.

- And the story's dead.
-

- Understand?
-

Uh, yeah.
I think I see your point.

Could I ask you
just one question?

Uh, did you know
the deceased personally?

Poppy, you're gonna
have to blow the wax
out of this man's ears.

- He don't understand when
people talkin' to him.
- No, no, no.

I understand.
I really don't--

I may understand--

Bad as my problems were
at that moment,

they were nothing
compared to those
of Mr. Albert Berg.

When news of Al Berg's
death hit the streets,

a summit meeting
was called...

between the big powers
in the numbers operation.

That's when I decided
to pay a visit
to the Monk.

The Monk
was of a lower order.

He had never taken
the vows of poverty
or silence.

That high up, huh?

Yeah. Well,
do you happen to know
where the meeting would be?

You mean,
the Midtown Garage needs
repainting again, huh?

Yeah.

Go buy yourself
a new pair of sandals,
will you?

The Midtown Garage--

a week before, it had been
closed for renovations,

a week before that for
rewiring and before that
reroofing and new plumbing.

It was amazing to me
that despite these
constant improvements...

by the owner,
Benjamin Sposato,

none of its original,
quaint charm had been lost.

At 8:21, the great
purple bird arrived.

Ain't you got no
air-conditioning down here?
This place stinks.

Why don't you make it fast?

I got to be at
my granddaughter's
ballet recital by 9:00.

You think some of my boys
been rippin' off
some of yours?

- That's right,
Licorice Stick.
- Sweetstick.

Whatever. Seems some of my
friends have been coming
down with back problems.

My organization had nothing
to do...

With Willie Pike
being wasted or
the Russo brothers.

How about my brother-in-law
Al Berg? You know,
Al and I were very close.

In fact, my sister's still
under the doctor's care.

You want a war, Mr. S.?
Is that what you want?

Hey, I'm not the one that's
goin' around killin' people--
bending them in half.

Jerry here was
at that countinghouse
when that guy walked in.

He was a coconut.

One of these days, Mr. S.,
some coconuts are gonna
fall on your head.

And it's gonna hurt.

Well, let me tell you
what's gonna happen.
Number one,

one more of
my people gets knocked off,

there's gonna be coconut
milk all over this place.

Number two,
I want reparations
for the Russo brothers,

for Willie Pike,
for my brother-in-law!

A quarter of all
your numbers operation
for the next fiscal year.

Junk, you keep.
I don't wanna bother
with that stuff.

- A quarter?
- That's right.

I wouldn't bet
my granddaughter's
ballet slippers on that...

if I was you, Mr. S.

-

Okay. Okay.

I, uh--
I'm comin' right with you.
It's okay.

It's, uh-- D-D-Don't--
Don't get nervous, okay?
Okay?

- It's Kolchak.

- What's a Kolchak?
- He's a reporter.

That's right, Mr. Sposato,
a reporter, I.N.S.

What's an I.N.S.?

Independent News Service.
Founded in 1904
by Enrico Paluzzi.

I-I think-- Well,
I'm surethat you must've
met my managing editor,

at a meeting
of the Sons of Garibaldi?

This place stinks.

Make it fast.

I got to be at
my granddaughter's
ballet recital--

I suppose you're wondering
what I'm-- I'm doing here.

- Well, uh, I think,
Mr. Spinoza--
- Sposato.

Sposato. Of course, sir.

I remember you.

Vittorio, this is the guy
that crashed my daughter
Barbara's wedding, remember?

Hhcur.

- You-- He's right.
- No! No!

No, there's been
a horrible mistake.

You see, you're thinking
of my brother,
SidneyKolchak.

He writes a society column.

I remember
the two-dollar hat, Kolchak.

I got a memory like
a steel trap. I never forget
anything. Ask Victor.

- That's right.
Photographic.
- Mr. Kolchak.

- You ever been
to Mercy General Hospital?
- No. No, I never have.

They got a great
gastrointestinal man, one
of the best in the Midwest.

- Doctore Rosetti.

Vittorio, why don't you
make an appointment
for Mr. Kolchak...

with Dr. Rosetti?

No! No, no, no.
Wait! Wait!

Wait! I-I-I-I can tell you
who's been knocking
your men off!

- I-I know!
I can give you a name.
- What?

He's a Haitian numbers
runner by the name
of Francois Edmonds.

- Why?
- I don't know!
What do I know why?

Gee, maybe he got, uh--
Maybe he got in
Willie Pike's hair?

Pike sent him through the
system. He got knocked off
by the Russo brothers.

- I don't know.
Maybe?
-

-

- Santa Lucia.
- He's right.

Well, Mr. Kolchak,
you're partially correct.

You see, that guy
now lays in, uh,
St. Lucy's Cemetery.

- It was a very nice try.
- No, that's where
they keep putting him.

But I'll bet my life--
and I'm not saying that
loosely, gentlemen--

I will bet my life...

that he is not...
there... now.

Come on! Keep digging!

Hey! You guys scabs?

Night work is against
the bylaws of the Funerary
Workers Association.

- All right. Come on.
Open it, will ya?
-

What kind of people
are these people?

Your theory
is that anybody connected
with this guy's death...

is... gonna die.

Yeah, that's right.
By having their
spinal cords crushed.

Hey, Victor--

you gave the okay
on this thing, didn't you?

Yeah, but I asked you first.

I told you Willie Pike
wanted it done. You said
go ahead. Remember?

I don't remember that.
Victor, you never--

- You never asked me about this!
- Sure, I did. It was rainin'.

You were complaining about
the guy who did the job on
the roof. 'Cause it leaked.

You had this expensive pot.
It was leakin' in the pot.

You were teed off that
day anyway. And when
I told you about Edmonds,

you said go ahead,
waste him.

- I remember.
- I don't remember that,
Victor.

- That never happened.
- You gotta remember.

- I said I don't remember!
- You--

Hey--

It's him.
It's that guy.

Do somethin'!
Stop him!

- Come in!

What'd he do?
Please don't tell me
the details.

Just what did he do?

Grave desecration,
one count.

Oh! Mamma mia!

Suspected theft of corpse.

And that involves several
health law violations.

The most serious problem
is a homicide.

We found Kolchak
an arm's length away
from a fresh corpse,

Victor Friese.

What did you do to the guy?
Pester him to death?

Kolchak, what's going on?

Talk.
Say something sensible!

He'll put me
in jail for a year
if I open my mouth.

Tell him.

I saw Victor Friese
get his back snapped.
I heard it crunch.

And the man that did it
was dead. Dead!

And had been dead
for over two weeks.

Well, I envy him. At least
he's getting some sleep!

How do you know that this
individual was dead,
Kolchak?

Did you smell formaldehyde
on his breath?

He wasn't breathing!

You were there.
We both saw him
put into his grave.

We saw the casket lowered
into the grave. We didn't
see if Edmonds was in it.

Now, we think the body
was exhumed by some cult.

However, I didn't
want to speculate
as to the purpose.

After all, these
are Haitians. They're people
from a foreign country.

That's right. Especially
Francois Edmonds. He, sir,
is from hell itself!

And how is this
stiff walking, Kolchak?
How is he doing it?

Who's pulling the strings?

I don't know exactly,
but I've been doing
some research.

It's voodoo.
Francois Edmonds has
been turned into a zombie.

Now, the process
that activates him...

has something to do
with chicken blood
and corn kernels.

Get him out of here.

Enough for one night, Carl.
Let's get outta here.
Enough!

August 20, 2:00 a.m.
Another trip to the Monk.

Immigration listed
no known relatives
for Francois Edmonds.

But the Monk had his own
listings. They included
one Marie Juliette Edmonds.

Also known as Mama Lois or--

Mornin', gents.
How ya doin'?

Come in, Mr. Kolchak.

You have rum
with lonely ol' woman?

- Mm-hmm.
- Light or dark?

Well, uh, dark, light--
It's all right--
Mrs. Edmonds.

Calm yourself, Mr. Kolchak.
You are where you wanted
to be.

Oh, I am.

- Mon bébé, Francois.
- Uh, yeah.

He is dead.

But not buried.

I mean, his body is missing
from its grave, madam.

I could not go to
my grandson's burial or
Immigration catch me sure.

Two young fellows
dig up mon bébéfor me so
we can burn his poor body.

That is custom in my family.

Mm-hmm.
Where did you burn it?

That is personal matter.

Do not be rude, sonny.

I saw your grandson last
night. He didn't look good,
but he didn't look burned.

He looked to me like
one of the living dead,
a zombie.

Oh, you go to le cinéma
too much, sonny.

- Mmm.
- I don't know...

where you get these crazy
idea or why you come here
to tell me this.

Well, for one thing,
I'd like to know, uh,

how you knew I was coming
to this house before
I even got to the door.

And also, why do people
call you Mama Lois?

- What you think that mean?
- Well, I've heard about
a man called a Papa Lois.

A bokor,I think.
A practitioner of voodoo.

They call me Mamalois
because I can make
little medicines...

to cure little sicknesses.

You have
any little sicknesses?

Sometimes my back hurts
when I hear certain stories.

Ah.

I give you little medicine.

Drink some this.
Your back don't hurt
no more.

- Uh--
- You afraid?

You already drink the rum,
sonny.

The white rum.

Uh, thank you very much.

You're crazy, sonny.

My stomach had taken
a lot of punishment...

in the last two days.

I figured
the real gut-slammer
was about to come.

A minute or so passed,
and I felt no ill effects.
I just felt stupid.

Kolchak. Kolchak. Kolchak.

Carl--
- Not now. I'm writing
an article.

Kolchak,
my people on the street
tell me you're making...

a lot of noise about
your big zombie story
being in the works.

I just told Mr. Vincenzo
that's not responsible
journalism.

Responsible journalism.

Yeah, I know. I know.

Okay, Mr. Vincenzo,

I guess
we're gonna have to
go over this place...

with a fine-tooth comb.

What do you mean, Captain?

Well, this place--
it's old.

Lot of fire laws
being violated here.

- Where?
What's the matter?
- Look. Exposed wires.

- That's only one wire.
- Look here. Look here.

- Papers next to a hot plate.
- Well, I can get--
Oh!

- Get that out of there.
- What about your
fire stairwells?

You haven't got books
and boxes stacked out there,
have you?

Kolchak,
will you stop that typing?

Don't be afraid
of this blowhard.

I think I can get
Fire Chief Langsdorf
down here right now.

Now, wait a second.
Wait a second, Captain.
Let's not be too hasty.

Yeah, let's
just wait a couple seconds.

Know what this is?
See this?

This is a voodoo shrine.

Now, it's from a shrine
just like this...

that Francois Edmonds,
dead man, rotting
cadaver and zombie...

receives his
instructions to kill.

Now, his victims
that he has to kill...

are picked out by having
their names written
in blood...

by a papalois, a mamalois,
a Mama Lois, whatever.

- Carl--
- Yeah, yeah.
That's right.

You oughta commit this
to memory. You oughta really
bone up on this, Captain.

Especially the part
on how to kill a zombie.

What's the matter?
You can't read?
Well, I'll tell you how.

You instruct all of
your men that go out
looking for this zombie...

to look
in places of the dead--

in graveyards,
in cemeteries,
in mortuaries or whatever.

Each one of them
has to be equipped
with the following items--

white candles,
matches, salt...

and needle and thread.

Now, after you catch
the zombie,

you pour the salt
into his mouth.

Then with
the needle and thread,

you sew the lips...

very tightly together.

What do you do
with it then, Kolchak?

Cook the guy?
Baste him with butter?

No, you light the candles
around him.

So far, this zombie has
only killed people who were
connected to his murder.

That's why its so important,
Captain, for you to find out
how to kill him.

And what's that crack
supposed to mean?

You see that little
knickknack there, Captain?
That is your coffin.

And spelled in blood,
chicken blood, on the top of
it, is your name, Winwood.

W-I-N-W-O-O-D.

What it really spells,
Captain,

is not only are
you a crooked cop,
you're also a murderous one.

- How long have you been
on Sposato's payroll, huh?
- You're pathetic!

I can explain all this.

Carl's been under an awful
lot of pressure lately. I'm
probably to blame for that.

Were you paid to participate
in Edmonds's murder or just
to look the other way?

This is all the evidence
you got? My name written in
nail polish on a shoe box?

That's chicken blood,
and that is your coffin.

And if you don't want
your back splintered...

like an orange crate,
you better listen to me.

All right. What about you?
I see that your name's
written here too.

Now what's your connection
with the murder?

I ask a lot of questions.

Seems like nobody
likes that-- cops,
voodooists or politicians.

- Wouldn't you agree?
- Well, in that case,
since we all agree,

we ought to be able to
settle our differences.

I want that zombie story killed
or you're gonna be hearing
from Chief Langsdorf.

I-- I meant to tell you--
- I'm comin'!

Sewing the zombie's lips
shut only works if
the zombie is dormant.

If he isn't--

Then you'd better have some
white candles with you...

to burn while you try
to strangle him.

And be very, very,
very careful lighting
those candles. You know why?

- So you won't violate
any fire laws, ya dumb--
-

Kolchak!
Listen, Kolchak,

I gotta do something
about little Monique
in there.

- Where do you think
you're goin'?
- Out.

- We have some talking
to do.
- Yeah.

Laurel Pirette happens to
be singing at Zachary's...

- in the alley
for the dinner show.
- So what?

So Laurel Pirette happens
to be Sposato's
newest girlfriend.

And that's where Sposato's
going to be...

- and that's where
the zombie's gonna be.
- That's where I'm gonna be.

- Wait for me!
- No!

- I'm comin'!
- Get back! Get back!

I'm ready for anything!

I didn't give the order,
Mr. Edmonds. I swear!

I don't remember
anything about it. Gino!

Gino! Gino!
Gino, help me ple--

Cab! Hey!

Take her to Brooklyn.
New York!

Hey, wait! Wait!

Hey! Wait!

Ugh--

Ugh.

Kolchak. Kolchak.

With my camera in pieces,

Captain Winwood's
story of innocence
was intact.

He never stood
trial for murder.
My proof was gone.

But that doesn't mean
my story was false.
Quite the contrary.

Where's Monique?
Her uncle's on the phone,
worried sick.

She's in a cab on the way
to Brooklyn.

She's in a cab
on the way to Brooklyn.

What?

What did you say?

You're delighted?

You didn't what her here
in the first place?

But why? Why?

I mean, why?

Item-- Mamalois Edmonds
was deported to her
native country...

only one day after
the events of the junkyard.

Item-- Captain Leo Winwood
was relieved of duty for...

"reasons of health."

Item-- Francois Edmonds,
the deceased,

was buried a third time
at public expense.

A third time.
However, this time...

rock salt was poured
in his mouth, and his
lips were sewn shut.

City officials
will deny this,

but you can see it
for yourself, if--

if-- you'd care
to venture out
to St. Lucy's Cemetery...

and exhume the corpse.

Be my guest.

If you've got the nerve.