Original subtitles

Ondertitels door Mister Bee Bart Besems

Man on TV: War continues in Europe.

Hitler has suggested that any questions

over the future of Poland will be settled entirely

between Germany and Russia.

He also stated that he regards

the Czechoslovak Question as closed.

Speaking at Washington,

President Roosevelt made no comment as to...

The name's Cavendish.

A Miss Cavendish.

Perhaps it's a first name, Cavendish?

Um, cigarette?

The cigarettes you keep for your clients,

are they better or worse than what you smoke?

They're the same.

Perhaps it is a first name, Cavendish.

It's... a good first name.

Mm.

Please.

How private exactly are your investigations, Mr. Marlowe?

What can I do for you, Mrs. Cavendish?

Mm, you are a detective.

I'd like you to find someone for me.

Mm-hmm.

Nico Peterson.

He was my lover, he disappeared without saying goodbye.

When you say disappeared, do you mean out of your life

or out of the world?

I don't know, that's why I'm here.

Where was your husband, Mrs. Cavendish,

when your lover Nico Peterson disappeared?

In retrospect...

do call me Cavendish without the Missus.

I like it.

Was your lover the sort of man to disappear

with you as a lover?

Normally, they don't disappear easily.

No, I bet they don't.

They stay around,

climb trellises, scenes in restaurants,

lie down in the road, promise you anything.

Oh, I know how it goes.

Do you lie down in the road, Mr. Marlowe?

- Drink? - Please.

Well, he's tall, like you.

Bit of a weaker man.

He dresses nice, meticulously.

What does that say about a man?

Does Mr. Peterson get money from his profession

or does he just profess his profession?

You seem to assume that I was involved

with someone unsuitable.

Yes, unless you were unsuitable for him.

Go to hell, you pathetic little...

Would it be accurate to say that Mr. Peterson

would be a marginal person in motion pictures?

- Apologies, sir. - Yes. Alright.

It would be accurate,

it would be very accurate indeed.

Man 1: Go to hell, you pathetic...

We would meet at the Corbata Club.

Do you know it?

How did Mr. Peterson know the Corbata Club?

Was he your guest

or the kind of guy who was anybody's guest?

My husband and I have an arrangement.

May I ask, is your husband homosexual?

No. He isn't remotely that interesting.

He likes polo, alcohol, waitresses

and my money.

Your money, Mrs. Cavendish?

I beg your pardon, Mr. Marlowe.

I'm asking if the money is yours.

My father was in oil, he's dead.

You'd know my mother, but we won't discuss her now.

Did you conduct your affair with Mr. Peterson at the club?

We weren't meeting in the horse sheds, Mr. Marlowe.

What did he not show up for?

An assignation.

I telephoned him a few times, no answer,

and then I went to his house the following week.

The milk hadn't been canceled

and the newspapers were piled up on his porch.

Did he have things to hide?

Haven't we all?

What do you think has become of Mr. Peterson?

Told you, I want a set of fresh eyes

and yours come highly recommended.

Maybe you'll find out what I can't.

My name's really Clare, like the county.

You know the county?

Yeah, in Ireland. I know it well.

My mother was in pictures, you'd know her.

It's rather embarrassing with the upper class.

You're very perceptive and sensitive, Mr. Marlowe.

I imagine it gives you trouble.

He ain't home, bo.

What? He owe you dough or make time with your wife?

That's the way it is, huh?

Yeah, I'd say so, and good for him.

He's not a bad guy, if you don't trust people anyway. I don't.

I think he's from Cleveland.

That's my place across the street,

he used to come over sometimes,

pass the time of day.

Give me a smoke.

How, uh, how long has he been gone?

Oh, I guess I last seen him seven weeks ago.

You, uh, you see him leave?

No, I just noticed he was gone.

How did you know?

Well, he wasn't there anymore.

That means there weren't any women banging on his front door,

or throwing a shoe at the house.

I mean, I did pretty good in my day, but not like him.

Are you a cop?

Sort of.

A private dick ain't no cop.

Yeah, you're not the first one to come around asking about him.

A pair of wetbacks showed up last week,

and they was all gussied up, but a beaner in a suit

and fancy necktie, it's still a beaner, right?

No, sometimes he's the King of Spain.

King of Spain don't ride around in no Lincoln,

with a Mexican re-spray.

Yeah, I used to work in the low end of the motor trade myself,

it was two beaners in a hot car

that had been across the border and back.

Oh, let's start at the beginning.

This guy's been looked at, sure.

Grifts, alienations of affection,

parking tickets, drunk at a social gathering.

And in the early days, public solicitation.

Now nobody knew he ever had a house,

he's down as domicile unknown.

He does have a house, I was there.

Yeah, well, there's having a house

and being the person paying for it, I suppose.

Who was paying for it?

Well, I think you'll find he was paying cash

from his no visible means of support.

Hope the lady friend looking for him looks good in black.

He was killed. October 22nd, hit and run.

Outside the Corbata Club.

You owe me lunch.

Liquid or regular?

"Deceased was struck by a vehicle, make unknown,

driver unknown, on Bay Canyon Drive

just outside the Corbata Club.

Deceased has numerous injuries including

gross comminuted fracture right side of his skull.

Death be not proud."

I guess there's no point in asking for an invite.

Oh, none at all, sir.

Uh-huh.

Oh, hey!

You looking for a gardening job?

Actually, no, a membership form.

Albert. We've got a hedge hopper here.

He needs trimming.

A ver.

- Hey, buddy. - A ver.

Maybe there's a reason you're unpopular with policemen.

Keep getting, I don't know...

punched, locked up,

and almost, but not quite, charged

with accessory, obstruction, etcetera.

- And at your age. - It's my manner, Joe.

Yup, starting to wish you still had your pension?

Sure you are.

Look, Marlowe, listen...

This guy got killed after getting sauced in there.

The remains smelled like a brewery,

and he had marks up and down his arms,

his head popped like a pumpkin.

The Corbata Club likes to make it nice,

it does not like trouble.

Hit and run is two crimes at least.

Don't fuck with me, this is LA.

These guys like Peterson

are a dime a dozen, they come out here,

they fail a screen test and they do what they've to do.

Could any member of the Corbata Club

not know that he was dead?

From our own Chief of Detectives

to the new Ambassador to England,

I find it highly unlikely it didn't come up over cream tea

that a scumbag had caught a Buick at the front entrance.

Did they ask you to broom the case?

No one has to ask, my brother.

Can I see the police file?

We don't need it.

Why you looking for this guy?

A lady wanted to find him.

Well, he'll wait until she comes by.

Go back to Boston, to that miserable goddamn family.

And then onto England, the court of Saint fucking James.

You're not the only one who's done with this.

Just remember one thing.

Oh, please, darling, not another.

I paid for that horse.

I get to keep him too.

Could you, uh, do mine after?

Are you the new mechanic?

Maybe, what's it paying?

- You've a name? - Marlowe.

This is hell nor am I out of it.

That was his one good line.

You don't think he was Shakespeare.

Neither did he.

Maybe I am out of it.

Well out of it.

You startled me, Marlowe.

Apologies, seems to be my day for startling.

Who else did you startle?

Some elegant Mick outside, who quoted Marlowe.

Are you quotable, Mr. Marlowe?

Christopher Marlowe.

Ah, he played in Doctor Faustus at the Harvard Rep.

Never lets anyone forget that.

- He? - Hm.

Joseph O'Reilly, my mother's financial adviser,

oh, and soon to be Ambassador to England,

he never lets anyone forget about that either.

What did he play, one of the seven deadly sins?

Please.

Iced tea?

You could have some of mine if you like.

No, thank you.

I can offer you anything really,

it's like the Arabian Nights around here.

Clare!

Clare!

Who the hell is this?

Sorry, I'm, I'm Philip Marlowe.

Hello, Marlowe. Cavendish.

Mr. Marlowe calls me Cavendish, Richard. I like it.

It's your name, darling.

I like it as a first name.

Glad I'm good for something, dear.

Have you, um, offered

your very large friend a proper drink, darling?

She did, and I declined, thank you.

So, Mr. Marlowe, what kind of business are you in?

Mr. Marlowe detects things.

Ah, and what are you detecting here, Marlowe?

My necklace. I lost it, he found it.

Of course he did. I wonder where.

Well, it was a matter of retracing your wife's steps.

- Marlowe. - Yes, Mr. Cavendish.

Fuck yourself.

It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Cavendish.

Didn't go for it, that's odd.

He must think there's something between us...

probably something... sexual.

So tell me about you and Mr. Peterson

with no embellishments, please.

I met him at the Corbata Club for the first time.

Thought he was handsome.

We made love, and then I saw him again, a few weeks later,

not an assignation, an accident.

In Tijuana at my favorite bar, La Quinteria.

I was there with my husband.

We were watching the procession, Dia de los Muertos.

What was he hustling in Mexico?

I don't know. Nico has many schemes.

He's in the grave.

Nico Peterson is dead.

He's pretending.

He's pretending very well.

Oh, I know, he's dead and buried.

That he got killed in front of the Corbata Club, supposedly.

Everybody says he was.

But you see, the significant thing is that

I saw him the other day, from the street,

not in my mind's eye,

on the street, not dead at all.

I think we're finished, Mrs. Cavendish.

No.

I just wanted you to start at the beginning.

Begin at the beginning,

that's what you're supposed to do, right?

- Where did you see him? - Back in Tijuana.

My mother wanted me to view some Azteca horses,

you know the prancing kind.

I did that, I do what she says.

So I was in La Quinteria again,

having one of their divine mojitos

when I saw Nico driving down the street.

He called himself a collector.

Most of all collected junk, pretend antiques.

I suppose they're for the movies...

things that don't exist, fairy tales.

There's a man in Baja,

who thinks Nico's actually a producer.

He's been fleeced.

What? What's wrong?

You lied to me, Mrs. Cavendish.

And I sat there and watched you lie to your husband.

Good afternoon.

Hello, Mr...

Marlowe.

Oh, of course, I knew that.

Richard made a call when you first came in.

You know what they say about the old boys' club?

What's that?

There really is one.

And what did he find, Madame, uh...

Dorothy Quincannon, and don't pretend you don't know.

Well, let's see, you had a bad war,

and then in the twenties, you drank yourself

out of a good job in the oil business.

Did I?

Got on with the Los Angeles DA

as an investigator, but that didn't work out too well either,

did it, Mr. Marlowe?

You see, he found all that out in five minutes.

You're not the only one who can make enquiries.

You weren't looking for pearls.

No, I throw them before swine, it's a habit of mine.

Tell me, Mr. Marlowe, what does my daughter want?

A divorce? I might even approve.

I'm sorry, I only discuss business with my employer,

so if you'll excuse me.

- Slan. - Slan.

Excuse me?

- Hey, Fergus. - Oh, hello.

Ah, Jesus, here it is.

Not a single lead on who ran Peterson down.

- We pursued inquiries. - But how far?

Marlowe, if one wanted to find an absolute nest

of entitled and connected tosspots

who feel they can just drive away

after running over another drunk's head,

you go to the Corbata Club.

There were no witnesses, a suspect wasn't possible.

Saturday night, they come and go at that club like rats

through a hole in a garbage can.

It could have been any one of a hundred cars

that flattened him, and probably none of them contained

anybody it'd be wise to arrest.

We're in the real world here. You understand a real world.

Sometimes justice is blind,

sometimes justice doesn't give a shit and might be right.

So who's the mystery broad you're working for? His sister?

Tell me about his sister.

Maybe she identified him, maybe she didn't.

You tell me about his sister.

I got my own sister, you can stick his sister up your ass.

I'm working for a person who thinks

that Nico Peterson is still alive.

Yeah, that's complicated. I'm not a complicated man.

My client claims to have seen him,

which gives you a murder, my friend.

Yeah, I got plenty, thanks.

Here's your file.

My employer thinks he didn't die,

that it wasn't him that got smashed

outside the Corbata Club, to repeat myself.

It gives me a murder, yeah, theoretically, maybe.

What's your trouble gents? Money or women?

Both, with the complication of thirst.

He's like the rest of us, Pat, except he can't take a hint.

- What'll you have? - Whiskey.

Usual.

What's going on these days Patrick,

you, you married, or happy?

At least my laundry's done.

Pat had a rough two weeks finding

clean drawers after he lost his mother.

Fuck yourself.

If I could, I wouldn't have to listen.

If it was an operation, I'd sign up.

If he's alive, Joe, you have a homicide.

Gonna keep saying that?

That's the last thing you want in homicide,

I realize, homicide.

What, you think it was a homicide?

I went to the graveyard. Guess what?

- He was cremated. - Good guess.

Yeah, even the teeth were destroyed

and they'd be everywhere.

You ever run over a rat or a cat, look at it?

If Peterson didn't die, who did?

Look, Marlowe, I know you got this Sir Lancelot bullshit,

and you live like some monk,

you got no regular self-interest anyone can count on,

you like getting sapped and locked up for just not stopping,

and this is an interesting story you have, if true.

But that stiff, Peterson, for all intents and purposes,

had Peterson's wallet in his pocket.

Plus, he was identified at the scene,

for all intents and purposes.

By who?

The manager of the club, Floyd Hanson,

and by the Los Angeles County Coroner, who's a member.

So, it's nobody's business now but county.

County line runs where?

Bay Canyon Drive.

Right along here?

Oh, Jesus.

Make the call, Joe.

I'll keep you out of it.

Mr. Hanson says it's most irregular, Mr. Marlowe,

but he'll see you.

Keep to the left, follow the signs that say reception.

Oh, thank you.

I'm Floyd Hanson the manager.

What can I do for you, Mr. Marlowe?

Don't bother turning off the car.

The gateman tells me you're a private investigator,

could that be so?

Yes, I used to work for the DA's office.

- I've heard that. - I've heard that you've heard.

I'm here about an accident that occurred.

- A serious one? - Nico Peterson.

Well, that actually wasn't on the property,

that was more in the public road.

Oh, I fully appreciate the distinction,

but sometimes people get moved off the property

even though their leg is lying on it a little bit.

There was an interesting case in Cincinnati.

What was that?

A man was beaten to death, and then he was put in the road,

and his head was run over by a tire,

to obliterate the cause of death

and to get him off the property.

Mr. Peterson was run down on the road,

and the road is not on the property.

I appreciate that.

Was Peterson a member of this club?

No, Mr. Peterson wasn't a member. No.

That's because you're exclusive I imagine.

We are, but your meaning, sir?

What would we do without Mexico?

Mexico's the future, we have a sister club in Baja, California.

- Looks like the past. - It must be brought along.

Mexico or its inhabitants?

Stick to the point, Mr. Marlowe.

It must have been a shock for you,

seeing Mr. Peterson on the road like that.

I was at Chateau Thierry, old man, Belleau Wood.

I have seen men in more disarray

than that in which Mr. Peterson was discovered.

Once, after an artillery strike,

I found a friend's tooth in my whiskey glass.

I drank the whiskey.

You're a terrible man.

He was dead, and I needed the whiskey.

You're my age, perhaps you were there,

perhaps you know how it was, and therefore is.

Royal Irish Rifles. The Somme.

For the rest of time, we see the dead.

Let's take a stroll, Mr. Marlowe.

We're alive, when others are not,

and it's a pleasant morning.

I see you've made inequity

pretty much your profession.

The Club is exclusive. The rich like to play.

The polo grounds are over there.

So whose guest was Mr. Peterson the night he was killed?

Who's your employer Mr. Marlowe?

We're at an impasse, Mr. Hanson. Who's yours?

I don't know what you want me to tell you,

the police were thorough, aren't they always,

isn't that what they do, be thorough?

I rarely blame a policeman unless he's really bad.

There's generally someone he's afraid of.

And who in this instance would any policeman be afraid of?

Well, if the hit and run driver

were a very substantial or a connected person,

a policeman might be afraid of the Club in general.

I mean, I am.

What would it take for you not to be afraid? What can I do?

Now, listen, Mr. Hanson, I intend to ask questions.

Then ask your damn questions.

Now this was a hit and run,

and given the road, it was probably a member,

and perhaps the driver didn't even know he'd struck anything.

Everybody in this country has been drunk since its inception.

I don't think I've ever even seen a sober driver.

Shall we have some tea?

Is there much gambling here, Mr. Hanson?

You're on very dangerous ground.

There are cards that are played.

Debts accumulated.

There are card rooms, they're private.

Bedrooms?

We have guest accommodations.

Do studio men and the producers have meetings here?

Why am I talking to you?

Because you don't know who hired me.

Well, name the thing that most intrigues you,

perhaps we could conclude our chat.

There is the possibility that the dead man

was not Nico Peterson.

His sister was shown his corpse the next day at the morgue

and expressed no doubts.

Where could I find his sister?

Ask the police.

Why do you raise the possibility that Peterson is alive,

when I so clearly saw him dead?

Someone may have seen him recently in the street.

And where was this, uh, supposedly?

I can't tell you.

Goodbye, Mr. Marlowe.

I'm sorry that it was ultimately uninteresting to talk to you.

Ah, but I do like this thing that you have

about not being afraid, when you should be.

I'll see myself out.

♪ Sometimes it seems ♪

♪ A part of the sin... ♪

Man 2: You're the most beautiful woman in town.

A star.

♪ Sometimes it seems ♪

My, my! You're not a regular.

Well, not yet anyway.

They do like to keep it exclusive.

Yeah, it seems that way.

Try me at the Cabana, Venice Beach.

Excuse me?

Try me at the Cabana, Venice Beach.

Ask for Lynn, Lynn Peterson.

- You're Nico's sister. - Sir?

Gentlemen.

♪ Learn to play ♪

Lynn, I'm not sure if it's an N, or an E.

Madam Cabana: With an X if she works here.

There you go.

Robe's in the cabinet, and no monkey business.

I'll try not to.

♪ Kindly fade away ♪

Thank you. Woman 1: You're welcome.

Here he is.

Mr. Hanson sends his apologies,

Lynn Peterson's been detained.

Oh, I'm, uh, I'm sorry to hear that.

Is that, uh, Lynn with an X?

Ah, fuck it.

I'm getting too old for this.

Are you keeping evil company?

More often than not.

Well, then, you'd better be a good boy,

because you're going to meet Dorothy Quincannon

at The Garden of Allah Hotel at 3:00.

That's in 20 minutes. Dorothy Quincannon.

Did you come for the film stars, Hilda?

I came to bloody be one.

Huh.

First of all, you have to boil the water,

now is that water boiled?

Yes, ma'am. - And then scald the teapot.

- Give it a good scalding. - Alright.

Put in one teaspoon per cup, then one for the pot

and then leave it to draw for three minutes.

Think of a soft boiled egg, darling,

three minutes, no more, no less

and then you're ready to pour, have you got that?

Y... yes, ma'am.

When you make tea, make tea.

When you make water, make water.

Water.

I... I don't think he got it.

Did you?

You lifted it from Joyce, ma'am.

Uh-ho, and he lifted it from somewhere else,

shitty little man that he is.

Never a day's work in his life.

Yeah, apart from the books.

Terrible little syphilitic.

Tricked an American,

sometimes that's all you have to do.

Is that what you did?

I've tricked any number of Americans,

including playing pagan princesses,

Elizabeth of England, ruined widows

and any number of flash-eyed barefoot peasant girls.

There's nothing to it, all you need

are regular features and the ability to read.

Oh, I very much doubt that.

I spoke with my daughter.

Surprisingly, she's not at all interested in getting a divorce.

- She loves her husband. - No.

But the arrangement suits her.

Alcohol, waitresses and her money.

My money.

She hired you to find another swine, didn't she?

Nico Peterson, who doesn't want to be found.

You learned all of this from her, yeah?

Ah! I want that tea strong enough to trot a mouse on.

Fine, done, you can go now, I will be mother.

Thank you, ma'am.

I have also had the pleasure of Mr. Peterson's company,

he was proposing certain investments.

In the equitation business, I presume.

Whatever business, I wasn't interested.

But my daughter cannot help

but want what she presumes I have.

And you had Mr. Peterson?

That was a presumption, Mr. Marlowe.

An understandable one.

I'm sure my daughter's paying you handsomely.

I can't talk to you about your daughter's business.

What business do you think there is in my family that isn't mine?

If she thought I wanted you, she'd have you too.

Mm. Perhaps she already has.

I can only say it again, I'm not in a position

to discuss your daughter's business with you.

You're a proud stubborn man, Mr. Marlowe.

I'm just an ordinary Joe

trying to earn a buck and stay out of jail.

Clare's father drove his car off a cliff in La Jolla

before she was even born.

He was in the oil business, very successful,

but he couldn't hide from the black dog.

It's the one thing that frightens me, Mr. Marlowe.

That hound, it runs in families.

You're afraid she's unstable?

Oh, I know she is.

So be careful, Mr. Marlowe,

she has this burning need for a father figure.

You see, I had to pretend

that she was my niece all those years.

My advisers thought that, uh, a daughter...

would age me.

What advisers?

You've met the soon to be Ambassador to England.

Mr. O'Reilly.

And maybe he advised me wrongly,

but I had to listen all those years.

He even bought a studio,

said it was to advance my career,

but it did no harm to his bank balance.

So, my daughter had to be my niece...

until at last even I had to face the fact.

The fact?

That my game was up, it had been for some time.

No more barefoot colleens, no more Ruritanian queens.

I have more money than the Queen of Sheba,

and I'm a very, very, very happy has-been.

You mean a celluloid legend, surely.

The key to Hollywood, Mr. Marlowe,

is knowing when your game is up.

Take the money and run, or stay, if you want.

But at least take the money.

I had another investigator on Mr. Peterson's case,

a shamus, called Seamus, if you can believe.

What did he find?

That besides being prop master at Pacific Pictures,

Nico was also a wannabe agent with the client of one,

Miss Amanda Toxteth.

So you see, Mr. Marlowe, my daughter wasn't the only one

spreading her legs for him.

So, if you find Mr. Peterson, come to me before...

Where would I find Miss Toxteth?

Don't know, some god-awful B picture I suppose.

- Ma'am. - Wait. How dare you?

I'm a little confused, I've already been paid.

Cut! Cut! Cut!

I need to see the face, the face,

I need to see the face.

Ama... Amanda, uh, camera's over there,

I need you to look at the camera.

Car rolls up, you look at the cameras, okay?

Thank you. Lunch.

I can take this off, right?

Man 3: Yes. After lunch.

Believe me, I look better without the war paint.

Thanks for seeing me, Miss Toxteth.

Call me Mandy. You're a detective?

I'm more harmless than I look.

That must be exciting, being a detective.

I can hardly contain myself.

Oh, well, don't contain yourself on my account.

Nico Peterson was your agent, yes?

Well, he got me some work...

"Riders of the Red Dawn," did you see it?

- Mm, not yet, no. - Well, it's gone now.

Joel McCrea was supposed to be in it, but something happened.

I play the rancher's wife, who makes eyes at an Indian,

and the Indian gets hanged.

I'll catch it when it comes round again.

Acting seems to be going well, Miss Toxteth.

You're sweet.

Actually, my mother says I should fuck more producers.

What do you think?

I think your mother is gravely mistaken.

What can you tell me about Nico Peterson?

How deeply should my account be detailed?

Well, when did you last see him?

I guess a week before he died.

He was trying to get back into my good graces.

- He was a womanizer, yes? - That's a tricky question.

Nico liked the conquest, not the women.

He'd hardly touch you after he'd had you.

That's a particular kind of man.

Some girls say handsome men are cold,

that's normally just what you say to ugly men

to make them feel better, but... Nico was cold.

Nico had girlfriends, but he didn't have

girls who were friends.

Do you know any of his other girlfriends?

Clare Quincannon supposedly fell for him.

The blonde with the terrible mother.

And the mother's story, kept by the Ambassador.

He even bought this studio for her.

I hear it's pure slavery.

Did Nico have anything to do with Mexico,

business out of Mexico?

There's only one business out of Mexico,

don't be a sweet chump.

When he had money that was why, and probably the only reason

anybody would look for him, owed money or a fix.

What did he drive, Mister?

- Who? - Nico Peterson.

Well, whatever he drove, he ain't parking it here.

You again?

It's alright, I'm a friend of Nico's.

- Philip Marlowe. - You're much too persistent.

- I'm trying to find Nico. - He's dead.

Wait a minute. Are you so sure of that?

I've been hired to look into your brother's disappearance.

He hasn't disappeared, he's in a jar on a marble shelf.

I had to buy it myself.

You saw it, too, should have known.

What if I told you he might be alive?

I don't believe in fairy tales, mister.

I saw his body on the gurney at the place.

So it wasn't at the club on the roadway.

I did everything I had to.

It couldn't have been easy seeing him.

Wasn't much fun. And what's Floyd got against you?

Why I wanted to meet, and if you're afraid of him

or anything, we have to talk.

I'm not afraid of anything.

- What's in the book? - Words.

No dope?

Just words, it's a book about words.

- Nico was good with words. - You say you saw his body?

Yeah. And then the cop tried to make me in the hallway.

Probably has a daughter my age.

It's funny, whatever you do,

there is always someone trying to make ya.

Mm-hmm.

You know what, fuck Floyd, fuck cops and fuck you.

I know the lady, she's the punk's sister,

but who are you?

You are a big one.

I'm thinking of renting the place.

Donde esta Serena?

Who's Serena?

If you know my brother, he probably dumped her.

Where's Serena?

- Who's Serena? - My brother is dead...

Who's Serena?

You take us to her

or you'll see what happens.

Please.

Well, well, what have we got here?

Boss wants a word.

- And who might you be big guy? - Cedric, big guy.

Your boss's name?

Oh, he's a little guy, Lou Hendricks.

Well, well...

Get up.

♪ Down the ol’ big sea wave ♪

♪ I found a new baby ♪

♪ A little baby ♪

The Lou Hendricks.

Finally, I need no introduction.

I'm a generic name, Cedric, an eponymous trademark.

You're a criminal.

Businessman and philanthropist.

I could use a few bucks, take me away from all this.

I was hoping you could use a few bucks, Mr. Marlowe,

but alas, it will be transactional,

not philanthropic.

Well, what was the words you wanted?

I can only hope it is not a past participle.

Where's home, Mr. Marlowe?

Where the heart is, but you know that.

No, I mean your actual, quotidian home.

26, Maple Boulevard.

Let's take Mr. Marlowe to his quotidian home, Cedric.

The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr.

A participle phrase at the beginning of a sentence

must refer to the grammatical subject.

Walking slowly down the road, he saw a woman

accompanied by two children.

If you give any trouble...

he will drop you like a bad grammatical habit.

Do you need to dress that? Cedric, your do-rag.

You mean my pocket square, Mr. Hendricks?

Some days, Cedric, I wish I'd left you where I found you.

- Give me the goddam thing. - Thank you.

I hear, Mr. Marlowe, and from various connections,

that you are looking for someone.

- We're all looking for someone. - Oh, that's very sad.

Tell me who I'm looking for.

Let me guess, two Mexes who are looking

for a broad named Serena.

Serena, a femme of the most delicate shape imaginable,

last seen in the arms of one Nico Peterson.

- Does that name ring a bell? - A tinkle.

I don't need you to hear a tinkle,

I need you to hear a sonorous bell

with a hunchback swinging from it,

gong-a-dong-a-dong, not a tinkle, Mr. Marlowe.

Who was chasing Peterson's sister?

Two beaners, I hear.

Maladroits from sunnier climes, the land of banana

and tarantula, who were also, quite separately,

and I should like you to notice that,

looking for her brother.

I would very much appreciate a word with our friend Nico,

if you find him and I will pay you.

Tell me what Nico was involved in

and why he faked his death and ran.

Nico, in the end, had to avoid everybody, I think.

But I will tell you that he used to run errands for me,

down in the land of the sombrero,

the serape and the mule.

His Spanish was good, he was dark

in a Latin lover kind of way.

He was useful in Mexico.

Is it bananas or tarantulas you import, Mr. Hendricks?

Tarantulas.

I'm entirely composed of tarantulas.

- And me afraid of spiders. - Nico worked for me.

He would bring me items so hard to come by up here

where the laws are so strict.

At the time of his supposed death,

he was in possession of some of those items.

And these items are?

There are items and items

and one item that related to the said items.

Why don't we take a ride to the Corbata Club?

Maybe he stashed the items there.

Mr. Marlowe, people will talk.

When I go, I go into the back entrance.

Please leave that remark alone.

- Wouldn't touch it. - I grease the Corbata.

Beneath this fine Charvet shirt

there is nothing but grease.

Peterson would've needed help, he would've needed a body.

It has conspiracy written all over it,

I don't think Nico went to a graveyard with a shovel

and a lamp looking for a stiff to fit his tuxedo, do you?

The club was in on the conspiracy,

but what's the club's interest?

Ask your client.

I think you'll keep looking for Peterson,

client or not, because you can't stop.

But I'll pay you a thousand just to sweeten the pot.

No. Cedric, uh, next street on the right.

Pull over, please.

It would be wise to reconsider, Mr. Marlowe.

Stop anywhere here, Cedric.

26, Maple Boulevard,

and I am not so smart as they think I am.

- You're welcome to come inside. - They give you back your badge?

No, I'm here to report a kidnapping.

If you find him, I will know, and then I'll come get him.

And when that happens, don't try to stand in the way.

Thanks, Cedric.

So two Mexes came out of nowhere and kidnapped

this broad, is that what you're telling me?

That's what I'm telling you, that and that

she turns tricks at the Corbata Club

and identified as her brother a stiff who wasn't Nico Peterson.

Yeah, there are certain things I'm just not gonna hear.

They were looking for another broad,

someone they called Serena.

I'm not here.

His sister was kidnapped.

You don't put it in the system, I'll go and make a report.

I'll go on the record, I'll spill that Peterson

wasn't Peterson, and that's not news, that's a feature.

I can never remember which newspaper hates the mayor most.

This will all go okay if you don't manipulate me, okay?

What we do, we get you out of here,

I take a call from an anonymous citizen

who saw her put in the car.

And you, play nice, or I'll put you at the scene as a suspect.

It ain't what happened, it's what I type.

Deal.

I'll give your pal Bernie Ohls the dope off the record.

Sheriff's detectives, I can start everybody looking

for her and they'll look hard.

Is this good enough for you?

- They took my .38. - Yeah.

There's your .38, if someone gets killed with your .38,

you still have a .38.

If they ever make us record serial numbers, it'll be fucked.

Marlowe?

- Detective Bernie Ohls. - Wait in the car, Arthur.

- Get us a drink, Marlowe. - Scotch on the rocks.

- She's being looked for? - City, Sheriffs, everybody.

Not a peep out of the brass.

Once a bulletin goes out nobody can kill her,

all car alert for Lynn Peterson.

Mexicans driving some sort of Tijuana spray job.

She'll get no different than anybody else.

Just really look for her, I lost her.

When you're getting to be an old timer,

it's okay to get out alive.

I rely on you to give me good example, Marlowe.

Who's the frail across the way?

Nothing frail about her, Bernie.

Well, lay low and, uh, consider another profession.

- Goodnight, miss. - Goodnight, detective.

Hey.

- Who hurt you? - Mexicans looking for Peterson.

- What were they looking for? - For God's sakes, you tell me.

- Coat? - Thank you.

One could live in a house like this

and so much would fall away.

That's how the other half lives and we do pretty good.

Clare, you haven't once told me why you really want Nico.

Amanda Toxteth claims that he wasn't

especially thoughtful in the bedroom.

Poor Amanda, she played a tough game.

Tell me about it.

There's not one studio in this town that's run by men

who were looked at twice before they had their first million.

If women never liked you when you were poor,

that must twist you all up.

So they call you forth for refreshing acts of humiliation.

Who did you learn this from? The Ambassador?

Mm, the Ambassador got to town already loaded...

and he'll be even richer when he leaves, just without my mother.

Your mother also wanted Nico.

She tried to hire you too?

She always wants what I want or have.

You mean Nico?

Maybe, or maybe she's just afraid that you'll make love

to me before you find out just how terrible I am.

That's a terrible idea.

- Why? - Why?

Because I'm in your employ, because you're half my age.

Because you're so beautiful I'd lose my bearings.

What can we do then, if we can't do that?

We can dance.

I spent six years with the nuns,

just so my mother could be a flash-eyed colleen

with her hands on her hips.

She had to play the virgin for 15 years, gosh.

Although you surrender in each picture, naturally.

Then all the while, the ambassador

was advising her financially.

Has he ever advised you financially?

You mean has he ever touched me?

Suppose I do.

Maybe that's the wrong question.

- Oh! - Pardon me.

You're a terrible dancer.

I'm a worse lover.

You expect me to believe that?

- The dance is good. - For now.

I have to be somewhere.

Should I come back here after? Stay over as friends?

That never works, Clare.

I don't intend it to.

No.

A puzzle has many pieces.

I don't know exactly what you're gonna find...

you might find a dragon and have to kill it.

- Fair enough. - Mm.

- Goodnight, Philip Marlowe. - 'Night.

♪ At the moon ♪

♪ But I'll be seeing you ♪

♪ I'll be seeing you ♪

Is the ambassador here? Woman 1: Yes, ma'am.

So do we call you ambassador now?

Clare, how are you? It's good to see you.

- Your mother just left. - What did she want?

- Don't ask. - So it didn't go well?

Where's your camera, Mr. Marlowe?

I don't have one.

Mm, do you have any idea

how much that photo would've been worth?

- Are they breaking any laws? - Only the laws of attraction.

I, for one, would pay big money for an account

of all of their terms of endearment.

He's old enough to be her father.

Yeah.

But then, so are you.

There goes Bernie Ohls.

Arthur ran the number plate of your visitor last night.

Yeah.

That car belongs to Dorothy Quincannon.

- So? - So?

Of all the people in Los Angeles who you do not fuck with,

the new ambassador who opened the Pacific Studios

with bootleg money and his mistress are top of the list!

Everybody's better connected than us.

Ever wonder what the attraction was?

What, the mother or the daughter?

Maybe both.

You are a very sick man, Marlowe.

LAPD found Lynn Peterson.

- Where is she? - Encino.

She'll wait till we get there.

Was she, um, was she shot with my gun?

No.

No, she wasn't shot.

Man 4: Deep continuous transverse wound

to the anterior triangles of the neck,

cutting both venous and arterial structures.

Injuries not compatible with life.

That means her throat was cut.

Man 4: That was after the lit cigarettes,

the knuckle dusters, the knife, the rape.

Oh, my God.

Guys, you're not gonna like this.

- Hey, you! - Yeah?

That's the sister of the man you identified two weeks ago

who was killed outside the Corbata Club.

His head was squashed like a pumpkin.

Were you aware of that?

Make a note of it in your report, doc.

- I just do the bodies. - Just make a note of it.

- Thank you, Bernie. - Nobody lives forever.

When things get down and dirty, rank and file don't like it.

- Not even in county. - At last, Bernie.

Joe? Come with us.

The blue car came in an hour ago,

the two suspects from Tijuana got out.

That's the re-spray. Yep. Who's that?

That's the Bentley of Mr. Lou Hendricks.

- The Lou Hendricks. - The same.

So he's a member, like the Mexicans.

I want you to go after these fucks

like a rat terrier in a closet.

I don't wanna know anything about it.

Ah, come on, Bernie, do it yourself.

I still have a pension, you don't.

Fair enough.

We own Bay Canyon, we'll block the roads in and out.

Give me the glasses.

- Get down that rat hole. - How?

- Doesn't matter how. - Fair enough.

Come on, Joe, let's do this.

- You look like shit. - Fair enough.

Just so you know, the real shit doesn't go down in there until

the early hours, so once you're in, you gotta wait and wait.

Fair enough.

And remember, you're the guy who can ID the Mexicans,

so watch your corners.

Fair enough.

Hey, will this get my badge back?

Is that what you want?

You mind?

- Otis! - Yes, ma'am?

I'll be right down. Yes, ma'am.

You're a long, long way from Tipperary, Dorothy.

What is this called?

It's called a Miguel Finn, a Mickey Finn.

Girls, boys, heroin, coke.

I've given it some thought,

and I'd like to fill out an application.

Not polite.

Maybe because I don't feel polite this fine evening.

Well, let's have a drink, talk about it.

- You heard about Lynn Peterson? - Tragic thing.

What if I told you that the police won't touch you,

but they're expecting that I will.

I have nothing to do with Lynn Peterson or Nico Peterson.

This is Los Angeles, people are on the make.

Why were they here on the make?

His sister was a Cabana whore with a junk habit,

she worked for you, you're a pimp.

No, I'm not, I don't control the place, I'm not the boss.

So who is?

Dorothy Quincannon? The Ambassador?

How little you know, Mr. Marlowe.

I do know a guy named Lou Hendricks.

- You might know him too. - His people call my people.

I'm going down the rabbit hole, Floyd,

I might even take you with me.

We'll need that drink then.

We can join Lou Hendricks down below.

Beating you round the walls doesn't get me much does it?

- Must be the military training. - Huh?

- Okay, I'll have that drink. - It's, uh, very difficult.

To balance your many obligations to the various interests

of all the people, powerful people.

Discretion is a thing that we provide.

And you take protection in return.

Very, very serious protection, Mr. Marlowe.

Now you will know the full extent of it.

I appreciate your difficulties, Mr. Hanson.

It's difficult to run a whore house and not have anyone know

it is one... especially when you're also

in the narcotics business.

There's an awful lot you don't understand.

About narcotics? About management.

The Corbata Club investors leave me alone to,

to manage the place.

Now, I don't trouble them when difficulties arise,

unless the difficulties are, how shall we say,

hard for me to deal with alone.

Like the whore who won't play ball,

the girl or a boy who aren't as interested as you'd like.

Or the snoop who's far too interested.

You give them a little something?

Are you alright, Mr. Marlowe?

I would've thought you'd be a man who could hold his liquor.

Seems I was wrong.

As you go to sleep, I want you to consider...

the whereabouts of Nico Peterson were never the issue,

it was the whereabouts of what Nico had in his possession.

We'll get to the bottom of those issues without your help.

From everything I hear, you were never a team player,

never went along to get along and see where it gets you?

You're dying, alone.

♪ I'll be seeing you ♪

♪ In all the ol' familiar places ♪

♪ That this heart of mine embraces ♪

♪ All day through ♪

♪ In that small cafe ♪

♪ Across the way ♪

♪ The children's carousel ♪

♪ The chestnut tress ♪

♪ The wishing well ♪

♪ I'll be seeing you ♪

♪ In every lovely summer's day ♪

♪ In everything that's light and gay ♪

♪ I'll always think of you that way ♪

♪ I'll find you in the morning sun ♪

♪ And when the night is new ♪

♪ I'll be looking at the moon ♪

♪ But I'll be seeing you ♪

- You alright? - Yeah, I'll be here.

Damn.

You're awake?

- This must be yours. - You didn't drink it?

I remembered what happened to Alice in Wonderland

when she bit the mushroom.

- You pretended. - And you?

Should've known, who offers the wheels a cocktail?

Lou Hendricks?

They're working him over real bad.

That's him shackled up inside I guess?

They'll have him speaking Greek soon.

Promise you never do that to me.

If I help you out of here...

will you help me?

Fuck yeah.

Crank up the volume.

Two dead boys from Tijuana.

See where this gets ya?

You're making this hard for me, Lou.

Much too hard.

What else do you do for Lou Hendricks?

Too damn much if you ask me.

Sweet.

Oh, righteous.

Hey, we both go in there...

we're both coming out alive, yeah?

Agreed, Mr. Marlowe.

I'm getting awfully sick of this tune.

Where is she?

Where is who?

The Chiquita bitch!

The one that you call Serena!

I already told you, Nico had his way with her.

Well, what do you do with this?

It's just for shaving.

Ear, nose and throat jobs, huh?

I have people who do that for me.

Oh, do you? Oh, so do I!

So do I!

Frederick! Yeah!

Give him an ear and nose and throat job, in that order.

Make him tell us where Serena is.

Not Serena!

The Serena!

The Serena?

The Serena Ornamental over there!

A plaster mermaid?

Serena's a fucking mermaid?

You gotta work on your Spanish!

Hanson!

Say this in Spanish!

Cedric!

Cedric, catch it!

Cedric!

Yes, boss.

Was it beyond your capabilities to save the fucking mermaid?

Sorry, boss.

You just broke the Hendricks bank!

Sorry, boss.

It'll take you years to pay me back!

Mr. Hendricks...

that's not fair.

As the progeny of sharecroppers, Cedric,

you should know life isn't fair!

You're right.

Life isn't fair.

I expected to see grease, didn't you?

Grease and tarantulas.

But instead, he's entirely made of soft tissue.

Go figure.

Shall we?

♪ I've found a new baby ♪

♪ Down the ol' big sea wave ♪

♪ I've found a new baby ♪

♪ A new baby ♪

♪ Oh ♪

What will I find inside?

Some dead bodies.

How many?

I forgot to count.

Uh, Lou Hendricks.

Floyd Hanson, two gentlemen from Tijuana.

And one busted mermaid.

A mermaid?

The Serena Ornamental.

Packed with Mexican powder.

Now, very wet.

And you are?

I'm his wheels.

Huh.

So what now, Cedric?

We both spilled some significant blood.

So we should stick together.

I'll be your driver for the moment.

Cedric, I have my own wheels.

Of course you do...

but consider the parking.

Well, well...

if it isn't Mr. Nico Peterson.

So...

you're not dead.

You're quite the detective.

What do you want?

You've been looking into the circumstances of my demise.

My determination for some time has been that

reports of your death were greatly exaggerated.

I'll say.

But not your sisters.

My half-sister's, from my fathers wild days in Acapulco.

So you won't be spilling any tears?

She is dead, I know.

She did not die pleasantly.

I couldn't help that.

You could help yourself though.

Well, I happen to have something everybody wants.

More dope?

Much better than dope.

You are all too much for me.

All I am is a working stiff.

I need to get to Clare.

I will do everything in my power to put you both

together and never see any of you again.

Then give her a message from me, will you?

Tell her, I'll meet her in the studio prop house, tonight

and I'll have the goods on the ambassador.

What have you got on him?

Just give her the message, Marlowe.

There's a few things I want cleared up

before we decide anything.

What do you wanna know?

The body outside the Corbata Club.

A musician who worked the club.

- Did you kill him? - No.

Opportune?

He looked like me, I like people who look like me.

What does Dorothy Quincannon want from you?

Well, maybe she wants to fuck with the ambassador

who's maybe trying to fuck her daughter, I don't know.

Put it together, Marlowe, you're the detective.

Everyone wants something on somebody else, it's all just...

blackmail in the end.

I'll be in the prop house...

7:30.

Tell her I've got what she wants.

I've just realized, this is my mother's favorite table.

This is where the ambassador advises us financially.

You've asked her along?

Yes, I felt I needed some advice.

Financial? - More like professional.

Mm...

My, my, my, it's Clare.

What a wonderful surprise, Mr. Marlowe.

Tea, mother?

Scalded.

Let's hope he brewed it right.

- So a mouse can trot on it. - So a mouse can trot on it.

You know I've so enjoyed our separate meetings

that I felt the need for us all to sit together.

What Mr. Marlowe means, my dear, is that he thinks

he's too clever for the both of us.

One of you hired me, the other tried to,

so you both seem to want the same thing.

Nico left you for a girl, alright.

A plaster mermaid full of Mexican powder.

That's disgusting.

A subject about which you claim to know nothing, yes?

Why don't you cut to the chase?

And ask her why she hired you.

To find Nico Peterson.

Hiring a detective might just be the best way to suggest...

she doesn't know where he is.

What do you think, mother?

I'm keeping him in a shack in Rosarito?

Maybe closer.

Why don't you tell Mr. Marlowe what you want with him?

Perhaps I am trying my best...

to save your reputation.

Well, maybe, it's the other way around, mother.

You see, Mr. Marlowe...

her lover dumped her.

The Ambassador to England wants done with tinsel town.

So she's playing the only role left for her to play.

The femme fatale.

Her very own Medea.

Oh, well!

It's a role that awaits us all, my dear.

Huh!

Well...

You suspected one of us would do this, but...

you just didn't know which one, did you?

- Would've laid a dollar on you. - Mm.

You've quite mastered the technique

haven't you, Mr. Marlowe...

of upsetting the women in your life?

There are no women in my life.

Well, then follow her.

She likes older men.

Don't worry...

I'll pay for the mess, I always do.

Are you okay?

I don't care that I'm less than you think I am.

I'm always less than people think I am.

You're one of those people who's just

lucky to be more than we think you are.

I'll send you the balance of what I owe you.

Maybe I can charge your mother?

- Together with a finder's fee. - A what?

I found him, this afternoon.

Or rather, he found me.

I walked into my little house and there he was.

- Mr. Nico Peterson. - Where's he now?

He'll be waiting for you at the prop house at Pacific Studios.

- 7:30 p.m. - Why the prop house?

I was hoping you would tell me.

Taxi!

Go!

A car is more than a vehicle

Mr. Hendricks used to tell me.

It's a sealed confessional.

A repository of secrets.

And this city, devoted as it is

to the internal combustion engine

is a city of motorized secrets.

You're waxing philosophical, Cedric.

You have to forgive me, Mr. Marlowe.

It's a habit I inherited from my late employer.

He had a tendency to digress, but you did say the prop house?

I did.

And I have to ask myself...

why the prop house?

And now you have to tell me, Cedric, why the prop house?

Nico Peterson was moving Lou Hendricks' product

through the prop house for years.

And the product is from Tijuana, hmm?

Hidden in a plaster raven, the bust of Nefertiti.

A Virgin of Guadeloupe or a...

Serena Ornamental.

You see Mr. Hitchcock, who could've worked wonders

for Pacific Pictures, but is sadly on his way to MGM.

Mr. Hitchcock, like Mr. Hendricks,

always liked to keep the script to himself.

But many conversations,

overheard from this here front seat, enabled me to do

what Mr. Hitchcock always managed so adroitly...

to work out the plot.

It was never really about a mermaid.

It was always about the contents

of a certain briefcase,

which could bring a whole studio down.

Clare.

Nico.

You're on your own?

Did you want the full auction house, Nico?

Me, my mother...

Floyd Hanson, Lou Hendricks?

That would be difficult, two of them are dead.

Well, you're gonna have to start the bidding with me.

What I've got here is worth a fortune.

Really?

You better show me then.

All of the records...

of the heroin which was flowing through his studio.

It's more than enough to ruin the ambassador's reputation,

and the reputation of Pacific Pictures.

Nico Peterson went missing

with one Serena Ornamental and one handmade briefcase

packed with records of every dope transaction

since he and Lou Hendricks started business.

He was trying to sell this information

to anyone he could find.

I'm a book-keeper, darling, a good one.

Import, export, I kept every transaction.

You're more than a book-keeper, Nico.

You'd sell tickets to the gates of hell.

Maybe that's why you like me.

I never liked you, Nico.

Do you trust me that little, Clare?

You know how it is these days, Nico.

Nobody trusts anyone.

What... what was that sound, Clare?

My mother's gun.

I found it in her boudoir.

Ah, fuck!

I'm so bad with these.

Why are you doing this?

You've always played too low, Nico.

Take a lesson from me and go straight to the top.

That's better.

Ah!

I'm burning your books, Nico.

Is he dead, Mr. Marlowe?

At last.

And that's why you hired me?

So you could finally kill him?

It's one of the reasons.

Has the ambassador paid you off?

I imagine he'll have to after this

little piece of spring cleaning.

Tell me why I shouldn't shop you.

Because he was far too young for me?

Because he was evil incarnate?

Because he was already dead.

Let me deep six this.

Use the side door.

Goodbye, Clare Cavendish.

Good evening, Mr. Marlowe.

Tell me you didn't set that fire, Marlowe.

No, Bernie, you know I only put 'em out.

What do you think I'll find inside?

The bust of Nefertiti.

The Ark of the Covenant.

Maltese Falcon.

Oh...

Nothing more significant?

What more could you want?

So you got caught in the crossfire

between a mother and a daughter?

Yep, I never seem to learn.

And who wins, Mr. Marlowe?

The mother or the daughter?

Who would you put your money on?

Well, the ambassador loses.

Those guys never lose, Cedric, they just move on.

Mr. Marlowe?

Yeah.

She will see you now.

Thank you.

- Mr. Marlowe. - Mrs. Cavendish.

So, this was the transaction?

What exactly do you mean? Man 5: Thank you.

You saved the ambassador's ass, he lets you run things.

It's better than the bootlegging trade, don't you think?

The ambassadors moved beyond all that.

Your mother's acting again I see.

Uh, she never stopped.

What's the story?

Oh, you know, like any.

Love, murder, reconciliation.

Happy ending?

Mm...

We're working on that.

So, are you, uh, going to tell me why I'm here, Mrs. Cavendish?

The studio needs someone to play knight in shining armor.

I saw ten of those guys outside.

They can only act the part.

So I should say my goodbyes then.

The studios all cleaned up, Mr. Marlowe.

Roosevelt's an inch from joining the war effort.

The ambassador would like to...

reward you for your discretion.

The studio will always need its private detective.

You're offering me a job?

More than a job.

A pension.

Executive in charge of security.

We all have our secrets, Mr. Marlowe.

Leading men with their little peccadilloes.

Leading ladies who can't function

without their Mexican tinctures.

We all need someone to keep us in line.

And your secrets, Mrs. Cavendish?

You'll have to keep those too.

Not for me, Mrs. Cavendish.

However, I can recommend someone.

I'll need references of course.

He's a friend of mine, he's very capable.

He's dealt with many situations in the past.

Very well spoken.

And a great keeper of secrets.

Are you blackmailing me, Mr. Marlowe?

Blackmail?

I would never.

I leave that to others.

Good day.

They don't like books, do they, Mr. Marlowe, those Nazis.

They don't like many things, Cedric.

Still, that Leni Riefenstahl makes some good movies though.

You really like them, don't you, motion pictures?

I certainly do, Mr. Marlowe.

Mrs. Cavendish of Pacific might have a position for you.

As chief of security, that's if you're interested.

Oh, I'd be very interested, Mr. Marlowe.

I would happily recommend you.

I'd need references, huh?

Only one, me.

And if you do take the job...

♪ Like a friend of a friend... ♪

This might come in useful.

♪ Talkin' that stuff... ♪

We've all done bad things, Mr. Marlowe.

And that gun is a memento of one very bad thing.

So you mean I can't shoot anyone with it?

Uh-uh...

use your Tommy gun for that.

That's always an option.

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ And the black of the street ♪

♪ Blends up into the stark night sky ♪

♪ But the light ♪

♪ Shines brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Shine brightest in the dark ♪

♪ All you need is a match ♪

♪ To start a little spark ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ 'Cause the light shines brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Shine brightest in the dark ♪

♪ 'Cause the light shines brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Hey hey hey hey ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Like a seed that you lost ♪

♪ In the garden of your own desire ♪

♪ And you must've been counting ♪

♪ All the things that you hadn't acquired ♪

♪ Oh ignite your torch ♪

♪ And fill your heart up with fire ♪

♪ 'Cause the light ♪

♪ It shines brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Shine brightest in the dark ♪

♪ All you need is a flint ♪

♪ To start a little spark ♪

♪ 'Cause the light shines brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Shine brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Hey ♪

♪ The light shines brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Hey hey hey hey ♪

♪ Oh you're a point of light in the sky of stars ♪

♪ Even when this world is feeling so bizarre ♪

♪ 'Cause the light shines brightest in the dark now ♪

♪ 'Cause the light shines brightest in the dark ♪

♪ Now yay ♪

♪ Whoa ♪

♪ Hey ♪

♪ Hey hey hey hey ♪

♪ Hey ♪

♪ Hey hey hey hey ♪

Ondertitels door Mister Bee Bart Besems