Original subtitles

♪♪

- Mannix? - That's right.

I'm Darrell Bigelow.

Yeah, I know.

Why here, Mr. Bigelow?

Why not at your paper?

I couldn't have it known that I was hiring a private detective.

This matter must be absolutely confidential.

Fair enough.

The owner of this carousel owes me a... favor or two,

so we're assured of absolute privacy.

Except for your, uh...

Employees.

They can be trusted.

What's the job, Mr. Bigelow?

I want you to find my wife.

How long has she been missing?

She disappeared a week ago.

Her name is Rebekah.

You think she might have been kidnapped?

No. Well, there'd have been some word by now.

Has she ever, uh, "disappeared" before?

I want you to find her and bring her back, Mr. Mannix.

She's my wife...

and I love her.

Of course.

There is another aspect to consider,

a selfish one, perhaps.

My friends in politics have tested the waters.

They say the temperature's just right

for me to wade in and, uh,

become a candidate for elective office.

Now, any hint of a scandal...

Scandal?

You think she may be with another man?

Well...

last summer...

Rebekah met someone.

Who is he?

You might say he was a...

a professional boat bum.

What was his name?

I don't know.

Rebekah told me a little about him when she...

came home.

I realize now that she wasn't over

whatever attraction he had for her,

and my instinct leads me to believe that...

she may be with him again.

I want her back, Mr. Mannix.

You'll find her for me?

I'll do what I can.

Uh, this should be enough to get you started.

Very generous.

There's one other thing, Mr. Mannix.

My wife means more to me than any political career.

Naturally.

♪♪

Hello, Tom.

Hi, Joe. You look beat.

Yeah, well, I've been checking on marinas

up and down the coast all day, plus a few motels.

- Who are you chasing? - A married woman,

cheating on her husband with some... boat bum.

Take your pick.

Maybe half of those boats have a gal onboard

who should be home cooking the old man's dinner.

Hey, you, uh, seen this one around?

Down here?

I don't think I'd recognize her if she was my sister.

Yeah.

Cheating wives wear wigs

and shades the size of headlamps, Joe.

You get to know the look.

You think I'm wasting my time, huh?

I hate to say so.

- Well, thanks, Tom. - Okay.

- Say hello to Mary. - I will.

♪♪

Joe, there's a seedy-looking character

inside waiting for you.

Says he's got something that you want.

Yeah, what's he selling?

Something to do with the Bigelow woman.

Well, thanks for keeping him warm.

You Mannix?

That's right.

Who are you?

The name's Gabriel.

I take pictures for a living.

And what's that got to do with Rebekah Bigelow?

I heard you were looking for her.

And where'd you hear that?

Desk clerk at the Dolphin Motel.

Well, that's funny. I talked to him earlier today.

He said he knew nothing about Mrs. Bigelow.

You should have laid on some bread.

The guy's hungry.

Which probably goes for you, too, right?

Correct.

About one large bill would do it.

Uh, with two zeros on it.

- Oh, really? - Yeah.

And what would I be paying for?

A picture of the Bigelow dame with her boyfriend

taken just three days ago at the Dolphin.

Interested?

Interested.

But I'd have to see it first.

Hmm.

Who's the guy?

That's your problem, Mannix. I only take the pictures.

How did you get this?

Caught them when they weren't looking.

You just happened to be there?

I smell the action when dames like Rebekah Bigelow

jump the tracks.

Why didn't you take this to Bigelow himself?

Too scary, man.

Bigelow's a big wheel, publishes a newspaper.

Could make trouble.

Do we deal, Mannix?

Yeah, we deal.

That's what I like to hear.

If the picture checks out.

♪♪

Hi.

Remember me? I was here yesterday.

A lot of people go in and out of this place.

I had a talk with your friend Gabriel.

Gabriel?

Yeah, he said you were just crazy about the color green.

It's hard times, mister.

Four kids with a sweet tooth, and sugar the way it is.

Uh, this couple still registered here?

How much you putting in the candy jar?

You know, I was wondering, uh, you and Gabriel

wouldn't be running a shakedown racket around here, would you?

Oh, you know, photographs, anonymous calls to wives afraid

of getting caught, letters to husbands... things like that.

The police...

My friends, the police...

They'd love to bust a racket like that.

Now, what about this couple?

They checked out the day before yesterday.

Going where?

They didn't tell me, and I didn't ask.

- How did they register? - Mr. and Mrs. Vince Larkin.

Now, you must have a list of the phone calls

they made on their bill.

I'd like to see them.

Now, look, mister.

Gabriel takes the pictures.

What he does with 'em later, I don't care and I don't know.

I just let him hang around here with his camera.

Yeah, sure, I know, you're a model citizen.

Uh, this phone call they made to Palm Springs.

You mind dialing it for me?

- That's a long-distance phone call. - Charge it to Gabriel.

Mabel.

Get me Palm Springs.

683-1902.

WOMAN: Good afternoon.

Desert Lights Hotel.

Oh, thank you, uh, that's all I wanted to know.

Oh, by the way, uh,

there's a fellow out there behind the potted plant.

He'll probably follow me when I leave here.

Tell him I'm going to the Desert Lights Hotel

in Palm Springs, huh?

Mr. and Mrs. Larkin checked out early this morning.

Without leaving a forwarding address, I'll bet.

You called it.

Hey, you mind if I take a look at the suite they were in?

Sir, that suite rents for $100 a day.

I'll take about 15 minutes' worth.

133.

Thanks.

I beg your pardon, señor.

You have taken these rooms?

For a little while.

Well, I will fix the bed.

Oh, no, that's not necessary.

I won't be sleeping here.

You are paying not to sleep here?

Well, you see, I'm, uh...

well, I'm sort of a detective, señora.

¿Un oficial?

A policeman?

Well, that's close.

I'd like to know about the couple

that occupied this suite last night.

You saw them?

Oh, sí, señor. La señora...

she was muy bonita, muy simpática,

but ay, ay, ay, how they fight with each other!

You heard them?

Oh, sí, señor.

From my little laundry room where I work down the hall.

I could hear them... ¿cómo se dice?

Screaming.

Señora... she say that she would not live

like a poor woman with any man

who did nothing with his life except drink and sail a boat.

And after that, he say that he was going alone

to his house in la playa...

Uh, uh... uh, at Topanga.

Well, uh, muchas gracias, señora.

- Oh, por nada, señor. - Hey, if you don't mind,

I'd like to leave this radio on for a minute.

I'm sorry, señor, we are not...

It's all right. It's been paid for.

Mrs. Bigelow?

Now, it's all right, Mrs. Bigelow.

Nobody's gonna hurt you.

Your husband hired me to find you.

My name is Mannix.

He tried to kill me.

Who?

Vince. Vince Larkin.

Can I get you anything?

Oh, yes, pl-please,

could... could I have a glass of water

and-and my purse? Oh.

Oh... God.

Why did Larkin beat you?

Because I told him we were finished.

Have you any idea where Larkin went?

Oh, he... he has a boat.

That's all he cares about... His boat.

A catamaran?

Yes.

Well, it's beached outside.

Where else could he have gone?

Oh, I don't know.

I don't know. I don't care.

I just want to be rid of him. Forever.

I just...

I want to feel clean again.

I'll, uh, take you home.

Do you think Darrell would let me come home?

Do you want to go?

More than anything.

Then I think he will.

♪♪

♪♪

I'm sorry, darling.

For everything I've done.

To you and to myself.

Well, the important thing is, you're home.

It will never happen again.

I swear it.

Now, there's no need to grovel, Rebekah.

A husband's responsible for what his wife does.

I'd like it if you kissed me.

It's not necessary.

Thank you, Mr. Mannix.

You'll find a check in the morning mail.

Okay, Joe, what's the matter?

I don't know.

I got a feeling a whole lot of people

have been doing a whole lot of lying to me. Why?

Oh, Joe, leave it alone.

Mrs. Bigelow's back in the nest,

your fee is in the bank, and it's over.

Yeah, well, it was just too easy.

I picked up all the right marbles.

It was a setup...

All the way to the beach house and Rebekah Bigelow.

Joe, the lady was beaten up.

Yeah, I know. Beaten up and all, it still doesn't make sense.

Now, why... why couldn't I make a move

without that chauffeur being on my tail?

Yeah, and that chambermaid at the Desert Lights Hotel.

She couldn't have heard a thing in that laundry room.

Joe, let it be.

Spend the money on something nice...

Like me, for instance.

Flowers, candy.

That's it.

Why, thank you.

Now, take a look at this picture.

The flowers... Look at the flowers.

Roses.

Yeah, in bloom.

Joe, roses have a habit of blooming every year.

Yeah, but not all year-round.

Now, Gabriel said he took this picture

three days ago at the Dolphin.

Now, I saw that rosebush.

There wasn't a blossom on it.

So this picture with Larkin in Mrs. Bigelow's arms

must have been taken months ago.

What's going on, Joe?

I don't know. Blackmail? A fast shuffle?

All I know for sure is that Gabriel,

the photographer, has to be in on it.

Oh, Joe, so he did take the picture some months ago.

Maybe this is the first chance he's had to shop it.

He's peddling a hot item. Why wait?

I mean, the affair could be dead, like that rosebush.

So what's the answer?

Find Larkin.

Yeah, I thought that darn fool Larkin must have wanted

to commit suicide to take his cat out on a day like this.

Wind's down now, but earlier it was howling up a storm.

Then what happened, Mr. Brady?

Well, I saw Larkin going out through the breakers

from my house right over there.

And, then, uh, out a ways,

the boat capsized, and he went overboard into the water.

I-I tried to reach him, but I couldn't fight that surf.

Any sign of the body?

No, not so far, but they're looking.

Hey, I'm colder than a shrimp on ice.

How about knocking off?

Okay. Thank you, Mr. Brady.

Well, there you have the story of Vince Larkin,

who, on a blustery morning,

started to take his catamaran out...

Oh!

Now, that's a dangerous toy.

Now, who the hell are you?

The name is Mannix. I'm a private investigator.

Thanks.

What do you want here?

I was looking for Vince Larkin.

Oh.

Try the ocean. He's out there somewhere.

You, uh, related to Larkin?

Related?

That's a laugh.

I'm Maggie Larkin.

His wife?

Well, I ain't his sister.

Yeah.

- You want a belt? - No, thanks.

Look, I'm sorry.

- About Vince? - Mm-hmm.

Don't be. I'm not gonna miss him.

When did you last see your husband?

Seven months ago?

Divorced?

The kind of marriage I had,

you couldn't tell the difference.

What brought you back here?

I got tired waiting table in hamburger joints.

I needed money.

Vince had it.

I thought he was broke.

He had it.

A lot?

Enough.

And you wanted your share?

Hey, a wife's entitled, isn't she?

Mmm.

Have you, uh, ever seen this?

Rebekah Bigelow.

You know her?

What was I supposed to be, surprised?

I've seen that picture before.

That and some others a lot more interesting.

With Mrs. Bigelow?

With Mrs. Bigelow.

When?

Last summer.

How, uh, interesting were these other pictures?

Hmm...

Well, I'll tell you.

It was a hot Fourth of July,

but nowhere near as hot as those little snapshots

- Vince tucked away in his pocket. - Hmm.

And what happened then?

He split.

Where?

How do I know? He walked out, left me flat.

Was he going to blackmail Darrell Bigelow?

Sure, he was.

I'll bet he paid plenty.

Did you ever contact Bigelow?

Once.

When?

Ten days ago in his office.

Why?

I told you, I got tired slinging hash.

I mean, she stole Vince from me, didn't she?

I got abandoned.

Her husband owed me something.

And what did Bigelow say?

Ugh. He never heard of Vince.

He sat there behind that big desk like...

like maybe I crawled out of the woodwork.

He scared me.

He isn't the scaring type.

Well, he scared me, buster.

Mm. Now, look, uh, suppose I find Vince for you?

- What's that, a joke? - No.

Vince is dead.

Well, I'm not sure.

Ask the sharks.

I intend to, Maggie.

♪♪

Gabriel!

- Who is it? - Joe Mannix.

- I'm busy. - Well, I want to talk to you.

- Some other time, Mannix. Blow! - Hey, Gabriel, baby,

come on out of there, or I'm gonna come in and drag you out.

Okay, you're asking for it, Mannix.

This pan is full of acid.

Put it down.

Know where you can buy a Seeing Eye dog?

Now, Gabriel, you make another move with that

and you're gonna be drinking it.

Easy, huh?

What do you want?

Some answers.

Now, this picture was, uh, taken last summer,

not last week.

So?

So, Vince Larkin took this,

and some other incriminating snapshots

to the Bigelows last July.

It was a blackmail caper, and you were in on it.

I want those other pictures.

I don't know anything about them.

Uh-huh. Oh, why do I waste my time?

Ah, just call the police, and...

have them search the place.

Okay, okay!

Why hustle me? You found the Bigelow dame.

Ah, too easy.

- And got paid a lot of bread. - Too much.

Well, you're not pinning a blackmail rap on me.

All I did was a job for Vince Larkin.

He wanted pictures, I took them.

Where?

At the Dolphin.

At Larkin's beach house in the bedroom.

How?

He cut a peephole in the closet door.

Cute.

Now, those other pictures.

There's the roll I shot.

Let's see. You're a real artist.

- The light wasn't too good. - Mm.

Look, my end of the deal was a flat fee.

A guy wants pictures of his own action, okay.

I don't ask why.

What the guy does with them is his business.

I'm just a camera.

Don't be coy.

You knew Vince Larkin was going to use these

to blackmail Mrs. Bigelow.

Maybe I did. Maybe I guessed he was.

All I know is, I got shortchanged.

I never got dime one out of the job.

Larkin came here, picked up the roll,

said he'd pay me in a week or so, and then disappeared.

When was that?

July 7. I remember it

'cause it was after the weekend of the Fourth.

Okay, now the negatives.

You know, the stuff's mine. I paid for the raw stock.

Uh-uh. They belong to Bigelow,

and I'm going to see that he gets them.

At least you don't have to pay five bucks

to go to an X-rated movie.

Mr. Mannix, ma'am.

Sit down.

Oh, would you care for a drink?

No, thank you.

Well, your call came as a surprise.

Was there some particular reason you wanted to see me?

I needed some information.

About what?

A day last summer... July seventh.

I thought you might be able to tell me

what happened on that day.

Oh, I am so stupid about dates.

Did something happen last summer on July the seventh?

Vince Larkin brought some pictures to your house.

Oh.

Did you see them?

Professionally.

Where are they?

Burned. I still have the negatives.

Why didn't you burn the negatives, too?

When I have the information I need.

What information?

Vince Larkin came to your house

on July seventh to blackmail you, didn't he?

Oh, blackmail.

Oh, how can I make you understand?

Vince brought those here to show them to me.

He was very vain, you know.

He wanted to turn me on, or to horrify me.

I scarcely know which.

But he certainly didn't...

demand money from me, or from Darrell.

Where was your husband?

At the office, I suppose.

And he never saw the pictures?

Well, of course not.

Do you think I would have allowed...?

Oh, wait a minute. I just remembered.

Darrell wasn't at the office.

An old friend of his, a typesetter, had just died.

He'd helped Darrell start the newspaper.

Darrell was making arrangements for the funeral.

What was the typesetter's name?

What difference does it make?

Well, I like all the pieces to fit

when I'm working on a puzzle.

And they don't?

Well, I think they will when I find Vince Larkin.

Find him?

You mean you're still looking for him?

That's right.

But Vince is dead!

How can you look for a dead man?

Nobody's found the body. That worries me.

Doesn't it worry you?

Mrs. Bigelow.

I finally located your undertaker.

A Mr. Hallihan.

And did he handle it?

Yes. He buried your typesetter.

The name on the headstone read Ezekial Tanner.

Mr. Bigelow paid for it all.

Mm-hmm. When was he buried?

Mr. Tanner was laid to rest the eighth of July

at the Oak Manor Cemetery.

Any family?

No, and no viewing.

Closed coffin.

Mr. Hallihan said that Mr. Bigelow said

that Mr. Tanner wasn't a man to stand on ceremony.

Mm.

Oh, and another thing, too, Joe.

I checked the file, but there's no death certificate.

Well, I think I can tell you why.

Why?

Because Ezekial Tanner died

in a home for the aged

just outside of Tucson, Arizona, July seventh.

I picked this up out of the morgue of Bigelow's paper.

It's, uh, Tanner's obit.

What does it all mean, Joe?

It means I can stop chasing around after Vince Larkin.

Do you know where he is?

Mm-hmm.

Is he alive?

No, no, no, no, he's dead, all right,

but not out in the Pacific.

Now, I think somebody killed Vince Larkin

and buried him as old Ezekial Tanner.

You wanted to see me?

Mr. Hallihan?

Has someone important to you passed over?

You might say that, yes.

It's always sad, and yet death is a part of life, isn't it?

That's very comforting.

You're interested in purchasing a casket?

Well, let's say that, I'm, uh, interested in a casket.

Uh, this is our finest model.

Finest pillow that money can buy.

Thick down, covered in satin, as is the entire casket.

It's very cozy.

I understand you service the Bigelow family

whenever the sad occasion occurs.

Yes, indeed. A real gentleman, Mr. Bigelow.

As a matter of fact, he helped start the firm.

Hmm.

Why do you ask?

My name is Mannix.

I'm a private investigator.

Oh, yes.

Your secretary called in reference to Ezekial Tanner.

That's right.

And you represent?

The widow of the deceased.

Mr. Tanner, sir, was over 90 years old

and a bachelor.

Yes. Well, uh...

the widow I had in mind can't be a day over 30,

and, uh, had nothing to do with Mr. Tanner.

I understand Mr. Bigelow took care of all

of the funeral arrangements?

Well, he had the body shipped from Arizona.

Suppose I wanted Mr. Tanner's remains exhumed?

Exhumed?

What is the usual procedure?

Uh, well, Mr. Bigelow is the responsible party.

You would need his written consent

and a legal order from the District Attorney's office.

But let me remind you, Mr. Mannix,

the procedure is not usual.

The dead deserve to rest in peace.

Oh.

Well, I'll do my best

not to disturb Mr. Tanner too much.

Joe, I'm bushed. I want to go home.

Forget about Larkin. You're just guessing.

Art, I'm not guessing.

Vince Larkin was murdered.

He's fish bait. Brady saw him.

- His boat capsized. - Oh, come on, Art.

Brady's playing a record he was paid to play.

- Prove it. - Dig up Tanner, and I will.

Exhuming a body's a serious matter.

What, do you want me to go to the D.A. with a hunch?

He'll burn my tail.

Look, suppose I get Bigelow's written consent?

Okay. You get Bigelow's consent on paper...

and I'll carry the ball.

Oh, you're beautiful, Art.

Malcolm. Yeah, hold on. Joe?

It's for you.

Who is it?

I don't know. Some woman.

Hello.

This is Maggie Larkin, Mannix.

Your secretary gave me this number.

I-I thought you should know

that, uh, Vince's body washed ashore about an hour ago.

You sure?

Oh, it's Vince, all right.

Who found him?

Boy on the beach.

He called the lifeguard station,

and they brought the body to the house.

Some men from the sheriff's station are on the way.

I'll be right there.

All right?

Fine.

You said $25,000.

I said 20.

And you get lost.

Okay.

This time forever.

That a promise?

Mm-hmm.

Let the tide take her out.

Maggie?

He's Darrell Bigelow's chauffeur, Art.

He goes by the name of Hobie.

All right. I'll put out an APB,

but I've got to have a charge.

For openers, try aggravated assault.

What about Larkin's wife?

Well, I'm not sure. The house was empty.

She could be gone...

- Or? - Dead.

Well, fine. Now we got two missing bodies.

Look, Art, I still need that order

to exhume Ezekial Tanner's body tomorrow.

Did you get Bigelow's consent?

I'm going after it now.

You can start greasing the wheels.

Mr. Mannix.

Mrs. Bigelow.

Well, this is a surprise.

Don't you ever sleep?

What happened to you?

A little fun at the beach.

Mr. Mannix.

What are you doing here at this hour?

Mr. Bigelow, I'd like your consent

to exhume the body of Ezekial Tanner.

Zeke Tanner?

Why?

I think someone else was buried in his grave.

Well, now, that's absurd.

I saw to Zeke's burial myself.

Who else could be buried there?

Vince Larkin.

You don't really believe that?

By, uh, what authority do you make this request?

The police know I'm here, but I need your written consent.

I don't understand this.

And I must confess I don't like it at all.

Meaning you won't cooperate.

- Oh, I'll cooperate. - Darrell?

Rebekah, we must do what's right.

But I'm telling you this...

that if this exhumation comes to nothing,

you haven't heard the last from me.

Now, come along,

I'll get you that written consent.

Oh, by the way, is your chauffeur around?

Oh, Hobie?

He quit yesterday.

These are the remains of a very old man.

Upwards of 90.

Well, Joe, Bigelow has already called the commissioner.

He's gonna have your hide.

Yeah, I know.

Okay, Joe, so you made a mistake.

You've had 24 hours to let it simmer.

Now let's go on to bigger and better things.

I still say Larkin's not in the ocean.

I think it was staged to make everybody believe it.

Then where is he?

That's the big question.

I'll see you in the morning.

Well, here use this.

If you're gonna brood, might as well be comfortable.

Good night, Joe.

That's it.

What did I do this time?

Pillow. There was no pillow in Tanner's coffin.

Maybe Hallihan was trying to cut costs.

Or maybe he was burying two for the price of one.

Or maybe Vince Larkin's got the lower berth in a two-man coffin.

Yes?

Mrs. Bigelow? Joe Mannix.

Mr. Mannix, haven't you bothered us enough?

Rebekah...

I'll take this call.

Mannix, I'm warning you.

I've already spoken to the authorities.

Mr. Bigelow, I want your consent

to dig up Ezekial Tanner's body again.

You must be insane.

Do I have your consent?

Absolutely not.

I guess I'll have to dig it up myself.

Tonight.

But why?

Because I think Vince Larkin's buried in that coffin, too.

Malcolm.

Sure too bad, Art.

What's too bad?

That you're not going to be able to go home

and get a good night's sleep.

Why can't I?

Because I'm going to the cemetery

to dig up Ezekial Tanner's corpse again.

Joe, you must be crazy.

That's what Bigelow said.

I'll have to stop you.

The commissioner's going to lift your license.

Look, Art, a deal.

If I don't deliver Vince Larkin's corpse to you,

and Vince Larkin's murderer, you can throw the book at me.

♪♪

Freeze!

Yeah, well, you better get that coffin up again.

There are two bodies in it and one of them is Larkin.

This is a nice little get-together you arranged.

Yeah, thanks for showing up, Art.

There are still a couple of missing guests.

Yes, sir?

Is Mrs. Bigelow in?

Just a moment, please.

Mrs. Bigelow, Mr. Mannix.

Show him in, Martha.

Yes, ma'am.

Mrs. Bigelow, I hope I'm not disturbing you.

No, not at all. I couldn't sleep.

I've been waiting for Darrell to come home.

Well, I wouldn't wait up too long.

Why not?

He's probably at the police station.

Police headquarters?

Being booked for the murder of Vince Larkin.

Can I, uh, pour you a drink?

Please.

I suppose you found Vince's body.

Yes.

In Tanner's coffin.

Where your husband arranged to hide it.

Darrell didn't arrange it.

I did.

- With Hallihan? - Yes.

I don't believe you, Mrs. Bigelow.

Darrell didn't kill Vince Larkin, I did.

Last July when he came to the house with those awful pictures,

and it wasn't the money.

I would have gladly paid him his blackmail.

But I knew Vince better than that.

I knew nothing would stop him.

That sooner or later the scandal would destroy

what... what Darrell wanted most in his life...

A political career.

I'd already done enough to him.

I couldn't let him suffer that, too.

What about Maggie Larkin?

Oh, she should have been satisfied

with what she got the first time she came,

but she wanted more.

So she came back.

That was very stupid of her.

Why did your husband hire me?

That's obvious, isn't it?

Yeah.

You were staging Vince Larkin's second death,

and you needed me to confirm it.

Yes.

That took a lot of cooperation.

Darrell is not without influence.

He has helped many people

who would do anything they could to repay him.

They simply said what he told them to say.

Mmm. And I'm sure he made it well worth their while.

Well, of course.

He was trying to protect me.

Mrs. Bigelow, I'm afraid I still don't believe you.

Well, damn you, believe it.

I killed Vince Larkin.

It's no use, Rebekah.

It won't work.

You mustn't listen to her, Mr. Mannix.

Rebekah couldn't kill anyone.

I killed Larkin, right here in this library.

July seventh.

And I assure you, he deserved it.

No, no, Darrell, don't-don't say any more.

Darling, you don't owe me anything.

I take it the police didn't find you at your paper?

I heard them arriving.

The only miscalculation, my dear, was hiring Mr. Mannix.

And that was my fault.

Why didn't you just take your money and go away?

Somehow I don't like being used.

Well, now, there's no need to worry, dear.

They can't touch us.

Why, because you own a newspaper?

You have power?

Well, it helps.

Two people are dead, Mr. Bigelow.

Crime, Mr. Mannix,

is just another news item to a newspaper.

Good copy.

Sometimes it even makes the headlines.

See you on the front page.