Original subtitles

♪ ♪

Ballinger, come on out of there.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Barney Ford, Chief of Police, City of Costa Real.

I've admitted into evidence in this this inquest

your official report of Lucius Ballinger's death.

Is this indeed your statement?

Yeah.

Matter of fact, most of my testimony's

based on Claude Graham's say-so...

Claude being the only eyewitness.

Then, your testimony

concerning the circumstances of death

would only support Mr. Graham's.

Yep.

You were acquainted with the deceased?

From the day he got here.

Big book writer from New York.

Claimed he was down here conducting research.

Boiled down... he was looking to pick my brain.

For the record, Chief,

the research that Mr. Ballinger was doing for his book

involved the slayings

of Eric Bell and Rita Davenport last year?

Yep.

He told me the murder of Mr. Bell and his secretary

was a "capricious act of wanton butchery

fostered by a climate of violence."

He was some talker.

I see.

You saw him fairly often after that?

All the time.

He interviewed everybody in town... particularly bartenders.

He interviewed a lot of bartenders.

Some of the witnesses intimated

that Mr. Ballinger's drinking habits

may have been contributory to the explosion of his boat.

Makes sense, don't it?

A fellow gets a little sauced up, forgets about such things

as gas fumes in the bilge,

doesn't turn on the ventilation blowers...

Ker-boom.

No further questions.

I see that there's a lot

of newspaper reporters from out of town papers.

I got something I'd like to say to them.

All right, Chief.

Thank you.

Last year, you guys

had a high old time with Costa Real.

The Bell murders set off a ruckus

that carried clear across the whole country.

Barney, the purpose of this...

Now, Lucius Ballinger, just like the rest of you reporters...

Rest his soul... He's going to solve the case

and make hisself famous by writing a book about it.

Well, now the Bell murders ain't going to be solved in no book

or on television or in the newspapers.

It's going to be solved by police work.

That means me.

I already got a line on them two transients that did it.

Now, I hope, when the hearing

comes to the decision of accidental death,

you reporters go back to your big cities

and let this peaceful little town

get back to its old ways,

and let me get on with my work.

Thank you.

I have one last witness to call:

Mrs. Celia Bell.

I'll make this as easy as I can for you, Mrs. Bell.

Would you state your name and occupation

for the record, please?

Celia Bell.

Occupation?

Widow.

Let the record show

that Mrs. Bell is the widow of the late Eric Bell.

Mrs. Bell, the purpose of this inquest

is to establish the cause of Lucius Ballinger's death.

Now you've heard the testimony of the other witnesses...

Is there anything you might care to add

that would help us reach a verdict?

Well, no one mentioned

that he was a witty, dedicated, thoughtful man,

who... who drank as they say,

but who was desperately worried

about the increase of violence in our society.

Did you see him the day of his death?

Yes. He came to my home.

Um, he'd finished his book and he was on his way

to New York to see his publisher, and, uh...

and he brought... he brought a bottle of champagne...

And, uh, then, only, only about an hour after he left,

I heard... Mrs. Bell,

it's all right. You may be excused.

Thank you.

Sorry.

Morning.

What do you do with a 12-year-old rich kid

whose mama finds 37 transistor radios in his dresser drawer

and no sales slip?

You're not a reporter.

The knees of your pants don't bag.

What are you selling?

Lucius Ballinger's publisher sent me

to bring back his personal effects.

Inflammable or non-inflammable?

'Cause whatever could burn did.

What didn't burn, sunk.

He lived in the boat. The boat blew up, boy.

Nothing recovered, huh?

Boatyard's got what was still left floating.

Your publisher interested in that?

No, not really.

Did he ever work anywhere but on that yacht?

An office, maybe?

Not that I know of, why?

Well, I was wondering what might've happened

to his carbon copy of the manuscript.

Carbon copy...

Mm. Yeah, he always kept one.

Carbon copy. You sure?

Like you said at the inquest, Chief, Ballinger was a lush,

but he was also a first-class writer.

He was really two men.

The sober Lucius didn't trust the drunk Lucius.

He always made a carbon copy

and he always kept it where he wouldn't be likely to find it

when he got loaded and tear it up, throw it away or burn it.

You're out of luck, boy. He didn't work anywheres else.

Did he have a safe deposit box?

Nope.

Mail drop? Nope.

Chief, Claiburne Publications

advanced Ballinger $5,000.

He sent them everything but the last chapter.

I'm being paid to find that last chapter.

Mr. Claiburne's a bit sticky

about publishing books without endings.

How much you make a day, boy?

$100 a day, plus expenses.

Ooh, that's, uh, $5,050 went down the drain.

You tell 'em Barney Ford told 'em

not to toss good money after bad.

$5,050?

Yeah, that $50, your half day pay.

If, uh... you left now,

you could get back to the big city

in time for lunch.

Chief...

Well, let's see, Mr. Mannix,

there was an extra that came out the morning

after the Bell yacht murders.

I was only a reporter then,

but the story got me a wire service byline.

There it is.

Biggest thing to ever hit Costa Real.

And I had an exclusive.

A real newspaperman's dream, wasn't it?

Right.

And I fixed it so the witnesses would only talk to me.

I didn't realize there were any witnesses.

Well, not, uh... not eyewitnesses exactly.

Two-column ten point head on that.

But Tommy Carr was asleep below decks.

He woke up in time to see the two killers when they rowed away.

Tommy Carr?

Yeah. Used to be a deckhand on board the Bell yacht.

And now? Now?

Now, he owns his own nightclub... "Tommy's."

He can afford his own boat.

You said witnesses.

Who else?

Well, Chief Ford, for another.

Only he wasn't a chief then.

He was just a cop.

He remembered seeing two transients out by the bus station.

They made up some composite pictures from his descriptions,

but, so far, no luck.

Well, if they ever find them,

you've got yourself another big yarn.

Oh, that was a year ago.

That story's dead.

Suddenly, so is Lucius Ballinger.

Thanks.

I wonder if you could direct me

To Mrs. Bell's home.

My name is Mannix.

She's not home.

Must still be at the inquest.

Oh, the inquest's over.

Yeah?

How did it come out?

Accidental death.

Was there ever any doubt?

Mind if I wait?

No, but it will have to be out here.

I can't let you through until Mrs. Bell gets home.

That's fair enough.

I'd like to talk to you anyway.

You was down to the boatyard,

snooping around the Ballinger wreck.

I thought I'd... Before that,

you were at the bank; earlier, the newspaper.

Well, seeing that the verdict was already in,

I didn't think you'd mind.

Well, fact is, uh, I do mind.

You was at the court.

You know how we feel about foreigners snooping around.

Foreigners? Is Los Angeles another country?

So I took a look at the boat. What's the big deal?

Now, look, Ford, why don't you just let me find

my little old last chapter

and go back to my foreign country, huh?

You was talking to Claude here.

What about?

About seeing Celia Bell.

You leave her alone, hear?

She's had enough trouble already.

She's the only lead I have.

Had.

Well, now, that seems sort of, uh, unfriendly.

It wasn't meant to be unfriendly.

It was meant as a threat.

I have a call for you, Mrs. Bell.

Thank you.

Hello.

Mrs. Bell, this is Joe Mannix.

I was wondering if you had any intention

of returning my handkerchief.

I'm sorry. Your, your handkerchief?

You know, I think I'd better warn you...

We have ways of dealing with people like you.

I'm sorry, I don't...

Oh, Mr. Mannix, you're a total kook.

How did you know I was here?

Turn around.

Well, are you going to send the waiter over for it,

or, um... would you care to join me?

Now, then, let's start all over again.

I'm Joe Mannix and you are Celia Bell,

the notorious handkerchief thief.

I'm not sure I can even say that,

"Han-hankertivethief”"

Ah. Here we are.

To, uh... first meetings. Mm...

Oh, I like what you said about Ballinger this morning.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, that was pitiful.

There I was, trying to say something nice about him

because nobody else would,

and I just botched up the whole thing.

Oh, well, that's par for the course.

Why were you there, Joe?

Did you know Luke?

No. No...

But, in a way, I'm sort of working for him.

I'm a... private detective.

Oh.

Oh, well, then, you're not here for strictly social reasons.

Does that bother you?

No.

Um...

I suppose you want to ask me some questions.

I suppose I should, I guess, seeing that

Claiburne Publications is picking up the tab.

Now, then, ma'am,

uh... would you have any idea

where Lucius Ballinger might have kept

a copy of his manuscript?

No.

Why?

Because his publisher never got the last chapter.

Sorry.

Next question?

What are you doing the rest of the evening?

Well, that's, that's, that's not a detective-type question.

It isn't?

I just don't think

I'll ever get the hang of this business.

On the contrary, Joe.

I'm sure you're very good at what you do.

Mr. Bigelow?

This is Toby.

I'm at the Marina Lounge.

Mrs. Bell has been here drinking.

She just left with some guy.

I feel positively racy.

Yeah, why?

Because I'm a pickup.

Well, fortunately, there's no law

against that... I hope.

Otherwise, I've had it.

Why?

I had a little talk with, uh, Chief Ford today.

He puts me in that "foreigner” category.

You know, the same one he had Luke Ballinger in.

Luke... Poor, poor Luke.

Costa Real just... just wasn't ready for him.

Oh, hey, now, wait a minute.

Oh, Joe... Joe,

could I have your handkerchief, again, please?

Yes, sir, I know that.

Not again he won't.

I'm picking up Toby.

Me and him will take care of him.

No, sir.

Toby described him. It's Mannix, all right.

All right, then.

See you, Mr. Bigelow.

Better?

Thanks. Again.

Did you, uh... know Ballinger

before he came to Costa Real?

Oh, no.

Oh, no. Before I met him, I was going to sue him.

One of the victims he was writing about was my husband.

Oh, we all thought he was

going to write just another shoddy expose,

but then I got to know him and...

and I, I knew he wasn't that kind of a writer.

He felt it wasn't

who that was murdered that was important, but why.

And there wasn't any why.

So that's when he decided to write A Study in Violence.

Well, I hope, someday, I'll get a chance to read it,

uh, including the last chapter.

Well, perhaps you will.

Someday.

Well, now, what about our date?

Date. Yeah.

Well, uh... how about Tommy Carr's place?

Tommy's? Yeah, sure.

I hear he waters down his drinks

less than any place in the seven Western states.

Now, what do you say?

Well, Tommy's isn't open until after 6:00.

Great. You can show me beautiful Costa Real until 6:00.

Tommy! You all should have called sooner.

I didn't know who he was.

I didn't know who he was, Mr. Bigelow.

Thank you for picking me up, Joe.

You know, it's been so long since I've had a good time,

that I don't even know how to behave.

Joe... how long are you staying here?

Well, I don't know for sure.

Till I find a copy of the last chapter, I guess.

Are you sure there is one?

Well, they tell me that, uh...

Ballinger got lushed once

and he made confetti out of 376 pages

of a new manuscript.

No carbon copy.

It took ten months to put Humpty Dumpy back together again...

I think the lesson stuck.

I hope you get what you want, Joe.

Cheers.

Excuse me, sir, but I creased your fender

when I was parking your car against the seawall.

Could you come with me for just a minute?

Well, that's all right.

Just forget about it.

I represent at least 16 insurance companies.

It could mean my job, sir. Please?

I'll be right back.

Enjoying yourself, Celia?

Yes, I am.

Is there anything wrong with that?

Nothing. Except the man you're with is a private detective.

I know that.

And I haven't told him anything.

May I remind you, Celia,

the supreme penalty in the state of California

is still the gas chamber?

It's right over here, sir.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Open up.

Well, if it isn't the transistor king.

Say, Chief, did you ever get that 12-year-old kid

run out of town successfully?

Kind of edgy this morning, ain't you?

Did you have a bad night?

No worse than the days.

You mind getting on your jacket and shoes?

My check-out time isn't until 3:00.

Mr. Bigelow don't like to be kept waiting, you hear me?

Hello.

Mr. Mannix, James Claiburne.

Oh, yes, sir. Good morning.

Young man, when I hired you,

we both thought this was a more-or-less routine

investigation and recovery assignment.

But we don't anymore, do we?

Mr. Mannix, I have with me

Robert Edward Ferris, the author.

He was a close personal friend of Luke Ballinger

and he tells me that Luke called him

a few days before the accident.

He told him that he had solved the Bell murder case.

Well, if Luke solved the murder,

it is more than likely, young man,

that his death was no accident.

Now, get that missing chapter back,

but for heaven's sake, be careful.

Do you need anything... money, manpower, anything at all?

Oh, no, no, sir, not a thing.

This is just a carefree little town

with peaceful ways, shady streets and, uh... plain folks.

Are you serious, Mr. Mannix?

Not a bit, Mr. Claiburne. Bye.

But ask Barney Ford to wait, outside.

Come in, Mr. Mannix.

I'm George Bigelow. How do you do?

Thank you for coming.

Please sit down.

Thank you.

For me?

That depends.

On what?

I'll come right to the point, Mr. Mannix.

What's your game?

By that, I assume you mean what am I doing in Costa Real?

I think you already know that.

Otherwise, I wouldn't have been, uh... invited.

Of course.

You're looking for the last chapter in the Ballinger fable

based on the Bell yacht murders.

That's close enough.

Will you be paid whether or not you find it?

You said you'd get right to the point.

Well, that is the point, Mr. Mannix.

This check is drawn in your favor in the amount of $10,000.

And all I have to do is not find what I'm looking for, right?

Precisely.

Why?

Eric Bell and I founded what today is Bigelow Oil.

Not long ago, two transients boarded Eric's yacht

and killed him and his secretary.

There was no money, Mr. Mannix, no motive.

The town was shocked and frightened,

and hurt by the sensationalism.

Just as we were returning to normal,

Lucius Ballinger arrived to remind everyone

that Costa Real was a butcher's block,

under the guise there was some

important social comment to be made.

Take the check, Mr. Mannix.

Forget about the manuscript.

Give us a chance to heal.

I'm sorry, Mr. Bigelow.

I can't accept this.

Why, Mr. Mannix?

Ethics?

Have you tried going to the bank with ethics lately?

I have tunnel vision, Mr. Bigelow.

I can only see to work one side of the street at a time.

I'd like to see Mrs. Bell.

Mrs. Bell left word she don't want any visitors.

Maybe you'd better pick up that phone and ask her.

She left a message at my motel.

That's no visitors, Mannix.

Just between us hometown boys, Claude,

is that no visitors or no visitors named Mannix?

That's no visitors at all.

I'm proud of you, Claude.

You work well.

♪ ♪

She's all right. Been drinking again.

Look, I know what to do. Stop worrying, Barney.

Okay. Okay.

♪ ♪

I got your message,

but I had a little trouble getting past the palace guard.

Toby? Mm.

He's tied up outside, filed under "azaleas."

Oh, Joe, uh... would you like a drink?

Maybe later. Oh...

You all right?

Well, I'm kind of... indisposed.

Oh, Joe, I... I lied to you.

About Luke Ballinger?

I... I know more than I told you, Joe,

much more.

For instance, I, uh...

I knew where he worked

when he wasn't on his yacht.

Where did he work?

In the... in the studio, behind the garage.

Then you, uh, do know something

about the carbon of the last chapter.

I know all about it.

The publisher's already got this.

What I need is the last chapter.

"Gin is Sin," that was Luke's sense of humor.

Luke Ballinger lost his life over these pages.

I hate to spoil it for you, Joe,

but I can tell you how it all comes out.

The wife did it.

I killed both of them.

Hey, Claude, you seen him?

He tried to get in to see her, but I wouldn't let him in.

If he comes back again, you know what to do.

How did Ballinger know you did it?

Oh, I sort of let it slip one night.

When I had too much to drink.

It was so obvious the way he picked up on it.

And I was relieved.

I make such a rotten murderer, Joe.

Guilt, guilt, guilt.

You didn't read this.

Well, I didn't have to read it.

I lived it.

I know what it says.

What does it say?

Oh, oh, Joe, you just read it.

Yeah, I know, but, uh, you tell me.

Once upon a time, once upon an ugly time,

there... there was a princess

and, one day, she went aboard her magic yacht

and there she found her husband

and his secretary together.

And, of course, she... I... should have left right then and there,

but, uh... but he laughed at me.

He laughed and he laughed

and then that tramp, that-that girl,

she... even she... Started to giggle,

and of course, I couldn't stand that.

And I went after her and then he... he hit me.

He knocked me down.

And, uh, and there was a knife on the bar... and...

And?

And, uh... that was all.

All?!

Well, that's all I can remember.

Oh, I guess I need... I need some more.

Now you tell me the whole thing.

Oh Joe, Joe, I don't remember the whole thing,

not after he hit me.

Nothing?

Joe, I wa... I was in a daze.

And, uh, I-I vaguely recall screams

and crashes and things

and then I... I started to come out of it

and, uh... I, I, I had the knife in my hand,

and, oh, Joe, the boat, it was just in shambles.

And-And Eric, he...

Both of them... were dead.

Oh, that's beautiful, just beautiful.

Little old you killed two people in a fight

that left the boat in shambles.

Joe, isn't it... isn't it all in there?

No, not even a comma.

If Luke knew, Luke didn't talk.

You weren't even mentioned in this.

Nobody was mentioned except the two transients.

There's 25 pages of pure oatmeal.

A complete whitewash.

You know, for a dedicated first-class writer

who had the case wrapped up, Luke Ballinger sure sold out.

Well, maybe... maybe he...

he was just trying to protect me.

No... no, I think he had the case solved.

That's why he was killed.

The wife didn't do it.

You were framed.

This chapter's a phony.

Somebody played it both ways.

If I went back without any evidence,

they'd be in the clear.

If I stuck around a and found this phony

and took it back to Claiburne,

they'd still be in the clear.

Now, somebody's still got the genuine last chapter.

Since we both know that...

I'd better get you out of here.

But Joe, you don't understand.

They're my friends. They wouldn't hurt me.

Celia, somebody got you off that boat,

and then dreamed up the two transients,

and it wasn't to save your life.

But Joe... Joe, you don't understand.

They are my friends.

Why, if it hadn't been for George Bigelow...

George Bigelow was helping?

Oh, with your friends, Celia,

a gal don't hardly need no enemies.

For one, we got Barney Ford...

Friendly, apple-stealing cop on the beat...

Who suddenly becomes chief of police.

And then, of course,

we got the plain old common Tommy boy deckhand

who now owns a big, sexy nightclub.

And then, of course,

we have fast-thinking George Bigelow,

who writes checks for $10,000

like I put pennies in parking meters.

Oh, you owe them a lot.

Everybody's got what they want... and Celia?

She's got her whiskey and guilt.

Oh, Joe, what do we do now?

We? Keep the door locked, especially to friends.

I'll be back... when I get back.

Stop the presses!

Hold the... Hold the...

What is that line, Archer?

Mannix, I'm sorry.

I didn't hear you come in.

I'm too busy trying to woo the muses.

What can I do for you?

Do you have a page projector? Yeah.

Oh, great, We're in business.

I'd like to use it.

This is a page from the first chapter

of Luke Ballinger's manuscript.

Oh, just concentrate on the words I've circled.

Okay.

Now, all the letters nice and clear?

Seem to be.

Blow it up, will you?

Still nice and clear?

Yeah.

How do the "A" s look to you?

About like the others.

That's because Ballinger typed "hunt and peck."

You know, with the two index fingers?

Now, when you type hunt and peck,

you hit the keys with equal force,

and all of the letters are equally clear.

Adding up to what?

Let's take a look at this one.

Now, um... that's from the last chapter

of Ballinger's manuscript.

You notice any difference?

None to speak of.

Okay, let's blow it up and take a closer look.

You notice the words "Real" and "anger"?

What about them?

How do the "A" s look to you?

They look kind of washed out.

That's because this page... From the last chapter...

Was typed by a touch typist.

I still don't get it.

A touch typist uses his little fingers

to reach the outside keys,

which means a slightly longer reach

for slightly shorter fingers.

Result... A slightly lighter stroke.

But then you know that, don't you?

You're a touch typist yourself.

Pretty good one, from what I saw.

What does that prove, Mannix?

Well, both the first and last chapter

were written on the same machine,

but by different people.

Then who wrote the last chapter?

You did.

Now, call the sheriff's office and ask for Captain McGuffrey

and tell him the whole messy story.

I didn't write it.

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

Who in Costa Real had the know-how

to fake Ballinger's literary style? Fred Archer,

local writer, reporter, editor.

You wrote it because you were covering up something in the Bell case,

either murder or complicity in murder... which is it?

You were just a reporter

when you were covering the Bell yacht murders.

A jury's going to be awfully curious

to know how you managed to buy the Chronicle right after that...

What you used for money.

Now, you want to tell me about it?

All right, Archer, you play it your way.

The typewriter will probably

tie you into it anyway.

What typewriter?

The one in Celia Bell's studio.

The typewriter you used to write the phony last chapter.

Your fingerprints are probably all over it. Now, if you decide

to talk about it, you can call me

at Captain McGuffrey's office.

Hold it, Mannix!

Now, I didn't kill anybody.

You know that.

Now, you'd better level with me, Archer.

When you found out there was a carbon copy around I might dig up,

you raced over to Celia's

and whacked out a new ending for me to find, right?

Well... Right! And you're it!

You're the chief new suspect

in the Bell yacht murders.

George Bigelow and Barney Ford

will be sitting in a spectator's section, smiling.

You know, on a second thought, Archer,

you better not call me, call Dial-A-Prayer.

Mannix!

I didn't know they'd kill Ballinger.

I didn't know that.

I saw Ballinger waiting for a cab.

He was on his way to Celia's.

I picked him up, and we got to talking.

Well, you know, one writer to another.

And then, all of a sudden, he blurted out the whole thing.

Which is what?

He cracked the case.

He had Chief Ford and Bigelow nailed dead to rights.

He knew they'd killed Eric Bell...

and his secretary.

That they'd framed Celia

and were blackmailing her.

That poor slob had everything...

all written down on paper.

Why did they kill Bell and his secretary?

Bell had his hand in the till.

He and his secretary were running off

with the company money... A big chunk of it.

Bigelow and Ford found out about it,

and they went out to grab him.

But Bell wouldn't be grabbed, so they killed him.

Celia... she was already half-unconscious,

so, when she came to, why,

they just let her think she had done it.

How did you get hooked into it? Tommy Carr.

He was asleep below decks.

Heard the fight, saw what happened,

and jumped overboard.

Came straight to me,

one step ahead of Bigelow and Ford.

And sweet, generous George Bigelow offered

to set you both up in business, huh?

When I pointed out to him

it was a lot simpler than killing us both,

and more rewarding,

I dreamed up those transients for him.

And the idea of faking the last chapter, to throw me off.

You kept the original copy

for a little more blackmail leverage.

Where is it, Archer?

In the safe.

"These pale ink on paper,

"one-dimensional concoctions of wily minds.

"These fictions on Barney Ford's office wall

"exist only as fictions on office walls.

"These back-alley transients depicted on poster

"and in the shallow folklore of Costa Real

"exist only as folklore.

"Bell yacht murderers are their authors...

The draftsmen of death."

He's quite a talker.

"Consider now the role as played in this fantasy by the

"unholy trinity of George Bigelow, Barney Ford

and Tommy Carr."

You give him the manuscript and everything, did you, Fred?

I had to stall him, Barney.

I knew you were coming.

All right, Archer. Now make your phone call.

Are you coming back to Costa Real?

Mm-hmm. For the trial.

Not for any other reason?

Like your former chief of police said,

I'm a foreigner here.

Besides, you've got responsibilities now, Celia.

A $1 million corporation and $1 million decisions.

I need all the help I can get.

Well, I'm afraid that

life in a 90% tax bracket just isn't my scene.

I mean, what do I know from oil depletion allowances

and barrels per day?

What you mean is you're just a wildcatter, Joe.

You're a free soul.

Well, that's not all bad.

It's kind of sad, though, don't you think?

I mean, you being such a free soul and all that,

and I can't be.

That's kind of sad.

Yeah.

Yeah, it is.

So long, handkerchief thief.