All language subtitles for Ellery Queen s01e05 Comic Book Crusader.eng

In a few minutes,
this famous cartoonist will be dead.

Who killed him?

Was it the ambitious lettering man?

You're trying to pin this on me.

The layout expert?

Now, that is bad news.

The background artist?

Don't go too far, eh, Bud?

The figure specialist?

What are you trying to pull?

His disillusioned secretary?

I used to believe
everything he told me.

Or was it someone else?

Now, somebody's gonna
have to stop you, Armstrong,

and if it has to be me, it will be!

Match wits with Ellery Queen

and see if you can guess
who done it.

Well, that's it.
What do you think?

What do I think?

I think it's terrible.
I think it's rotten.

The whole idea of me
in a comic book is ridiculous.

It doesn't even look like me.

I know.

You know? Well, how do you
explain that, Mr. Armstrong?

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm not Mr. Armstrong.
I'm Kenny Freeman.

But you write this stuff, don't you?

No, I only print it in the balloons.

You see, I'm the letterer.

I get the scripts
after he's finished with them.

- Are you responsible for these?
- To a minor extent.

- Are you Armstrong?
- Unh-unh... Lyle Shannon.

But you drew these.

I added the shading
and color indications.

The drawing stops
with the gentlemen in front.

Armstrong?

Porter.

Backgrounds.

Best in the business.

Every panel is a word of art,

except for these phony-Iooking
stick figures

that are cluttering up
my backgrounds.

Who draws them?

Oh, that's the guy in front of me.

- Yeah? What do you want?
- I'm Ellery Queen.

You can't be Ellery Queen.
Your chin's all wrong.

That's Ellery Queen.

Look at those piercing eyes,
the slightly broken nose,

the high cheekbones, the jutting chin
with just a trace of a dimple.

There's a face with character.

Yeah, but it doesn't look like me.

Does Mickey Mouse
look like a mouse?

It's a cartoon.
It could be anybody.

That's quite a collection.

This loaded?

In this den of thieves?

That would be much too tempting.

[Empty click]

That's Bud Armstrong.

The genius who dreamed up
the comic-strip adventures

of Captain Cosmo, Future Man,
Lola the Jungle Princess...

ELLERY: And Ellery Queen.

Panel seven... Captain Cosmo
zaps the Venutian monster

with a super ray gun... zap.

He doesn't see
the bat-like flying robots

swooping down in the supine
form of lovely Linda Gordon

to catch her flimsy garments
in its steel talons.

Future Man, panel 9...

the strong man of the 41st century
grapples with the giant bulldozer

on the crumbling edge
of the fiery volcano...

smash, bam, crunch.

[Snaps fingers]

Lola the Jungle Princess,
panel six...

the savage white hunter
appears through the palm fronds

with lust-crazed eyes
at the perfect form of Lola,

as she bathes
her poisoned-spear wounds

at the edge of the jungle stream.

Who is this?

I don't know, sir.
He just walked in.

Well, tell him to walk out.

Excuse me, sir, but Mr. Armstrong
is creating right now and...

I'm Ellery Queen!

What about it?

Just the fact
that I did not authorize

the use of my name or likeness
for any comic book!

Mr. Queen, you obviously haven't
read the small print in the contract

that you signed
with your new publisher.

Small print in the contract?

Same company owns
Capricorn Comics.

Your signature gave them the right
to make you a big comic-book hero,

whether you like it or not.

Miss Van Dine, would you
kindly show this gentleman out?

- Excuse me...
- Well, I don't like it.

I don't like the whole idea

of being associated
with wham, pow, and zap.

It just isn't me.

Well, you write whodunits.
What's the difference?

Oh, no! I write mystery novels!

That's different than this stuff!

Mr. Queen, you don't understand
the market.

Our readers are children,
millions of bloodthirsty little kids,

and we give them what they want.

Oh, yeah, yeah. Ray guns and knives
and fistfights... that's violence.

No, that's action.

Now, you get out of here

and don't try and tell me
how to run my business.

You are not gonna use me
to grab dimes from little children!

Now, somebody's gonna
have to stop you, Armstrong,

and if it has to be me, it will be!

- Is that a threat?
- Well, consider it fair warning.

But if you go ahead with this,
I'll find a way to kill it!

[Muttering angrily]

ANNOUNCER: Top of the seventh,
Dodgers 3, Cardinals 2.

The Cardinals at bat.

Nobody out, nobody on.
Stan "The Man" Musial up.

Stan was the winner of last year's
Most Valuable Player Award.

Walk him! Walk him!

It's no use, Dad.
I just can't work tonight.

I can listen in the kitchen.

Here' the pitch.

Ball one, high and outside.

No, it's not the radio.
It's that comic book...

I just can't get it out of my mind.

Ball two.

They're gonna walk him.

What did you say, Ellery?

Bud Armstrong thinks
the cartoon Ellery is real

and I'm some kind of a troublemaker

who happens to have
the same name.

Maybe if you talk
to a good lawyer or something.

High fly ball, deep to right field.

Furillo back to the track.
He' at the wall.

It's no use. I can't work
during the day

because they're drilling up
the street with a jackhammer.

And I can't work now
because of zam, pow, whap!

Maybe I'll go for a walk. Yeah.

130 runs batted in last year.

Bums.

Bums... that's what I've got
working for me.

Look at this garbage!

Collins, what is this
with the slitty eyes,

the rubbery lips, huh?

I was just trying to get
a little style into the drawing.

Oh, is that what you call it?

I got a 4-year-old nephew
that can draw faces better than that.

Then maybe you better put him
on the staff.

I would, but his mother
wouldn't allow him to work

with a bunch of second-rate hacks...
especially you, Vinnie.

Don't go too far, eh, Bud?

Would you like to see
the complaints I got

after the last issue of Future Man,
about palm trees in South Dakota?

You wrote palm trees.
I drew palm trees.

Right. I remember that, Bud.

I wondered
why you wanted palm trees.

Well, I'm surprised you didn't
cover them with benday shadows

in your usual heavy-handed way.

You should have realized
that I meant elms.

Cut it, Bud.

We're sick of taking the rap
for your mistakes.

Well, how about you, Kenny?
Aren't you part of this insurrection?

If you have any complaints
about my lettering, say so.

You can count on it.

Now, don't you forget
that it's my name

that goes on these comic strips,
not yours.

We're only too painfully aware of it.

How does it feel, feeding
off the talents of others, Bud?

You promised us raises
that never materialized.

And credit.

Yes, it... it really isn't fair,
Mr. Armstrong.

Then why don't you quit?
Why don't you all quit?

You know we can't
because of our contracts,

unless you let us out.

Which I'm not about to do.

And if you try and strike,

I'll see to it that none of you
ever work in this town again.

Now, is that what you want?

All right.

Tomorrow I want you all in here
an hour earlier,

and try and clean up
some of this sloppy work.

That's all.

- L...
- Whatever it is, it can wait.

Yeah.

Excuse me.
May I leave now?

Well, let's talk about it, huh?

My boyfriend's waiting for me.

Well, that's just too bad.

We'll have to let him wait,
won't we, Alma?

Now... No, now...
now, you let go of me!

Let go of me and open that door,
or I'm gonna scream!

You know what you are?
You're an ingrate.

Maybe I should set your boyfriend
straight about a few things.

- Now, Mr. Ar...
- I thought I told you to go.

If you've got a minute, you see, l...

- All right, make it fast.
- Well, I...

Well, I just wondered if...

if you had a chance
to glance at my comic strip.

What comic strip is that?

The Swamp Critters.

You said if I left a sample,
you would evaluate it

for a possible inclusion
in a new comic book.

Yeah, I looked at it.

Well, what do you think?

I think it's the most dull-witted,

badly drawn comic strip
I've ever seen.

The only thing I liked about it
was the lettering.

Well, I'm trying to break away
from lettering.

Oh, well, that's a big mistake,
Kenny.

You should stick
to what you do best.

As a cartoonist,
you're strictly no-talent.

Hey, you forgot something.

[Sighs]

That you, Alma?

You decided to come back, huh?

[Cocks gun]

[Gunshot]

[Gunshot]

[Gunshot]

- Ellery.
- Dad.

- Hi, Maestro.
- Hi, Velie.

What are you doing
this side of town?

Oh, just taking a walk in the park...
thought I'd clear my head. What's up?

Hop in. We've got a homicide
on the other side of the park.

No, I think I'll just head for home.

Better get in, son.
You were acquainted with the victim.

- Was he a friend of mine?
- Not exactly.

Like I said, I heard the shots,
and it scared me into palpitations,

I don't mind telling you.

Why'd you come in here?

Well, I knew Mr. Armstrong
was the only one in the building

that took any enjoyment
out of working late like this.

Did you see anyone running out?

I did not.

Did you see a gun anyplace?

No, I didn't see no gun.

All I seen was Mr. Armstrong
facedown on his desk,

like he is now.

Dad, I noticed he had a pencil
clutched in his right hand.

Did he get a chance to use it?

Yeah.

Left us a clue
to the killer's identity.

Ellery, the clue points to you.

I know.

Logically, that makes me the killer.

What do you mean,
I can't have a prowl car?

I don't care if the city is
in the middle of a crime wave.

Every night I explore the sordid
byways of Gotham for my column.

It's a Flannigan tradition.

[Knocking]

Come in.

Who said what?

Listen, punk...
if you can't get me a cop car,

I'll take it up with the mayor!

Hiya, Mr. Flannigan.

Moe, what do you want?

I got something for you.
It's worth a sawbuck.

A fin, maybe.

Oh, it's an easy fin.
Wait till you hear.

My wife, Nellie, scrubs the floors
in the building

where Capricorn Comics
has its offices.

So what?

Bud Armstrong...
the big cartoonist...

he got knocked off
a little while ago.

- Now, ain't that worth a fin?
- No.

That's worth a sawbuck.

- Any luck, Velie?
- No, sir.

We've looked all over...
still can't find the gun.

Keep looking.

- Inspector Queen?
- Yeah?

I'm Alma Van Dine,
Mr. Armstrong's secretary.

This policeman was waiting for me
when I got home.

Where were you tonight?

Well, I was, uh...

I was watching television
with my boyfriend... Milton Berle.

You don't think I had anything to do
with this, do you?

Now, take it easy, Miss Van Dine.
Just sit down.

I... I just... I can't believe it.

I... I just can't believe he's dead.

I'm sorry.

He was such a... such a...

Wonderful person?

Louse.

Why, just tonight he had
this awful fight

with his cartoonists.

I mean, he was just terrible.
He treated them so rotten.

Velie, get names and addresses.

- Hi, Inspector.
- Who's the doll?

Flannigan, how'd you get
wind of this?

Murder will out, Inspector.
Murder will out.

Does it have to out

when I'm trying to launch
an investigation?

Are you Frank Flannigan,
the columnist?

That's right, sweetheart,

and if you were
Armstrong's secretary,

I'd like a page-1 photo.

Stand up and take a deep breath.

Now, cut it out, Flannigan.
I'm trying to get some answers.

Now, did anyone else fight
with Armstrong recently

besides his staff?

Yeah. This afternoon,
a guy came in to see him,

and he was really angry.

- He threatened Mr. Armstrong.
- Threatened him?

Yeah, he said he'd stop him
from publishing that new comic book

if he had to kill.

It was awful.

Who was he?
What did he look like?

Dad, I just found this drawing in...

That's him!

- Morning, Inspector.
- Oh, no.

Had a chance
to read the paper yet?

I don't read that paper.
I wrap fish in it.

Well, that's too bad.

You didn't get a chance
to read my column on page 1.

Your column is full of baloney.

Nobody in his right mind
could possibly believe

that Ellery would knock off
that cartoonist.

- Even you don't believe it.
- News is news.

Come on, Inspector...
give me the lowdown.

Wasn't your lad secretly ticked

when that comic-strip artist
comic-stripped him of his dignity?

I've got better ways
of wasting my time.

Aren't you gonna investigate
the charges?

If he wasn't your son, wouldn't
he already be locked up in jail?

Out!

Deputy Commissioner Hayes,
just in time.

What's going on here?

You're about to see
a member of the fourth estate

given a bum's rush
by a police inspector

who has no respect
for freedom of the press.

Out!

Deputy Commissioner, how are
the ponies running for you?

Did you get a chance to play
that tip I gave you

on Sugar Daddy in the fourth?

We'll discuss it later.

Inspector, what's all this
about a cover-up?

The Commissioner wants to know.

You tell the Commissioner
not to believe everything he reads

in the bottom of a birdcage.

Now, my son is definitely
not a suspect in any murder case.

- What about the evidence?
- In spite of the evidence.

- And the witness?
- In spite of the witness.

Now, I know Ellery
didn't kill Armstrong.

Even so, public opinion
must be considered.

Public opinion can go fly a kite.

Now, I'll resign from the force
before I'll arrest my son for murder.

Now, you can tell
the the Commissioner that.

As far as you're concerned, out!

- Good morning.
- Hiya, Junior.

Ellery, what are you doing here?

Well, I thought I'd come down and
see if you found the murder weapon.

No, not yet.
Those your pajamas?

It's my pajamas...
my toothbrush, too.

A toothbrush?

Sure, don't you get it?
He's turning himself in.

He's asking to be locked up.

You read that piece in the paper,

and you're trying to get me
off the hook.

Maybe he's here to plead guilty.

"Cop's Kid Cops Plea"...
that's good for an extra.

Freedom of the press
goes just so far.

Now, there's a pay phone
out in the hall.

Spend a nickel.

Vera, listen to this...

"Flannigan description
of a home wrecker...

a gal with a 'split-ilating'
personality."

Hey, that's great, F.F.

A messenger left this package
at the front desk.

Well, don't give it to me!
Call the bomb squad!

Nah, I think it's okay.
At least it's not ticking.

- You open it.
- Okay.

A book?

Somehow I don't think
that's an autographed copy.

Who sent this?

Well, the receptionist said it wasn't
the regular message service,

so there's no way to find out.

"Chapter 1."

F.F.

When was the last time
you read a book?

When the guy who ghosted
my autobiography sent me a copy.

I couldn't get through it.

You know, I've got a Flannigan hunch
that there's something in here

that's gonna singe my eyebrows.

Incredible!

- Everything all right in there?
- What?

Oh, I thought I heard you
say something.

I'm just reading the latest episode
of Captain Cosmo.

Three weird scientists predict
that a space commander

is gonna be emperor
of the universe.

Oh, you like that, huh?

Well, I liked it better
when it was Macbeth.

Is there anything I can get you?

No, no, Harry, but thanks, anyway.

Yeah, sure.

ELLERY: Oh, wow.

Vera!

I want you to take this list
to a hardware store

to get every single thing
that's on it.

What's it for?

A red-hot story, beautiful...
scoop-errific.

[Telephone rings]

Gazette, Frank Flannigan's office.

Hold on. I'll see if I can find him.

Moe Fletcher... he says
he has another tip for you.

Give me.

Flannigan here. Shoot.

Flannigan, I think maybe
this is worth a double sawbuck.

What do you got?

Now, last night, my wife, Nellie,
couldn't finish her floor,

so she had to come to work today.

Flannigan's heart bleeds.

She just passed the word...

they're all there
in the comic-book office.

Who's all there?

All the suspects
in the Armstrong murder case,

except the one that's in the clink.

They're having
some kind of a secret meeting.

No, wait, Kenny.

Look... all I'm trying to say is

that it's a way of keeping
the unit together.

Now, who says
we want to stay together?

- I got other fish to fry, Kenny.
- I'm returning to serious painting.

Oh, come on, you guys. I think
we ought to at least listen to him.

So he went
over Bud Armstrong's head

and submitted Swamp Critters
to the publisher.

So what?
It's a one-shot deal... that's all.

Now, you're wrong, Phil.

There's growing pressure
in Washington

against sex and crime
in comic books.

Now, the publishers bought the idea
of cute, lovable, cuddly critters

for a monthly magazine.

- Monthly?
- Gee, Kenny.

Congratulations. I had no idea.

Well, that's what I've been trying
to tell you... I'll need all of you.

You've got to be out of your mind.

I'm gonna be working an idea
for my own strip.

Now, now, l-I hate to bring this up,

but may I remind you that you all
have contracts with your p-publisher?

Hey, now, look here!

Wait... what are you
trying to pull now, huh?

Well, well, well, I see the gang's
carrying on without Armstrong.

Flannigan's the name.

Now, this is a private meeting,
Mr. Flannigan.

Yeah, all the suspects, minus one.

Yeah, the one who did it.

Where were you when Armstrong
was shot, Collins?

- In a bar.
- Yeah? What bar?

Bleeck's, where all the artists
hang out.

Shannon?

Yeah, I was one of the artists
he was hanging out with.

Vinnie Porter was there, too.

Yeah. The bartender
knows us fairly well.

He can verify it.

And you, doll?

Oh, I was watching television
with my boyfriend.

I told that to the police, too.

And where were you, Freeman,

when Bud Armstrong's life
was snuffed out?

I was on the BMT subway.
I live in Brooklyn.

- Were you alone?
- On the subway?

When did you find out the publisher
wanted your comic book...

before or after the murder?

Oh, after... today.

The murder sort of helped
convince them.

Oh, yeah?

Well, as long as Junior's in the can,
I guess you're in the clear.

Au revoir, kiddies.

Oh, uh, by the way,

did one of you send me
a little package

by special messenger?

Gee, what was in it?

A bombshell, baby,
and Flannigan's gonna set it off.

- Evening, Sergeant.
- How's it going, Harry?

It's pretty quiet.

I'd like to see the new prisoner.

- Too bad about him... poor guy.
- What do you mean?

Well, he's only been in here one day,
and already he's gone stir crazy.

All he does is lay on his bunk
and read comic books.

Oh.

- What do you got in your bag?
- Oh, that's nothing, Harry.

That's just some stuff that Ellery
asked me to pick up for him.

- Oh, no, you know regulations.
- It's nothing. It's...

I hate to think
what he's gonna be like in a week.

- Hey, Velie!
- Hiya, Maestro.

How are you? How's Dad?

He's holding up,
but I don't know how.

There's no word
on the murder weapon yet.

The medical examiner's report is in.

Oh, yeah? What did it say?

One shot missed
Armstrong's vital organs,

but the other two didn't.

Hmm.

- Is that for me?
- Yeah.

Thank you.

You know, Maestro,
I was thinking maybe next time

you'd really like some good books.

They say this new Mickey Spillane
is supposed to be a dilly.

Oh, no, these are great.
These are just great, great, great.

You know, Maestro,
it makes my blood boil

to see you in here like this.

I ought to get a hold
of that Flannigan guy

and knock his block off
for causing all this trouble.

That's a nice thought,
but it's not necessary.

I was right!

Velie, you think Dad's still
in the office?

- Yeah, I think so.
- Get him.

What is it, Ellery?

- Dad, I found the murder weapon.
- Here in the cell?

No, here in this comic book... there.

"Blam"?

Dad, look at the pistol.
It was drawn from the real thing.

At first I wasn't very sure,
but now I'm positive.

- It's that.38 I saw in the prop box.
- How about it, Velie?

I searched that box myself, Inspector.
There wasn't any gun.

So, we're back to the killer
taking it with him.

Yes, except he didn't
bring it with him.

See, that prop gun wasn't loaded.

Now, either the killer walked in
with a pocketful of ammunition,

hoping to find a gun, or...

- He knew where to look for it.
- Right.

Well, well, well, Mr. Flannigan.

Oh, hello, Inspector.

About time you got here.
I was about to give up on you.

Been waiting long... in the dark...
with a flashlight?

Well, I noticed your front door
was unlocked,

and I decided to check out
the premises

in case a burglar got in here.

Oh, that's very thoughtful of you.

Just doing my duty
as a law-abiding citizen.

As a what?

A law-abiding citizen.

Look... can I help it if you go off
and leave your door open?

Flannigan, I can't tell you
what a pleasure it's going to be

to toss you in a cell next to Ellery
on a charge of breaking and entering.

Aw, now, look...

Breaking and entering...
that's good for at least seven years.

You better hope
the Sing Sing newspaper

needs a gossip columnist.

Oh, wait a minute, will you?
Give me a chance to explain.

You can start by telling me
what you're looking for.

Well, I haven't had a chance
to look for anything yet.

But if I find
what I think I'm gonna find,

things are gonna be
very tough for Junior.

And if you don't find
what you're looking for,

things are gonna be
extremely tough for you.

So, why don't you cut the malarkey
and tell me what you're up to?

I'm gonna do better than that.

I'm gonna reach for something,
Inspector.

If it's not there, I lose.

If it is there... your son loses.

Your son loses.

Morning, Inspector.
You're in awful early.

Correction... awful late.

I've been up all night

waiting for ballistics
to run a check on this.38 special.

The report just came in...
it's the murder weapon.

Hey, you found it.
You tell the Maestro yet?

No, because if I do, I'll have to
tell him where I found it...

in his study,
at the bottom of his fish tank.

Somebody's trying
to frame Ellery for murder.

- We got to put a stop to it.
- You bet, Inspector.

Here's a list of the suspects.

Let's check those alibis again.

You came straight here
after you left the office?

Well, no, not here.

I went to my boyfriend's apartment
next door.

What's his name?

Ronnie Himes.

Uh, Ronald Himes.

The address?

Uh, next door,
whatever next door is.

[Buzz]

Oh, excuse me.

Alma, I got to talk to you.

Ronnie, could you come back later?
I've got company.

I got to talk now.

Mr. Himes?

Yeah? What about it?

Ronnie, this is Inspector Queen
of the Homicide Bureau.

- No kidding.
- Glad to meet you, Mr. Himes.

I understand you're a big
Milton Berle fan.

I find him amusing, yes.

Did you find him amusing
Tuesday night?

Oh, he was a riot Tuesday,
wasn't he?

We found him very uproarious.

- "We"?
- Alma and me.

She watched it on my set.

There was this marvelous dog act.

Did you find the dog act amusing,
Mr. Himes?

I don't care much for animals
dressed up as people.

You seem kind of nervous,
Mr. Himes.

I'm not used to being questioned
by the police.

I think I'd like
a glass of water, please.

Oh, sure, Ronnie.

Look... I'm very busy right now.

I have to plan
a whole new comic book.

You can see for yourself.

I can see that you're enjoying
a streak of good luck.

Tell me... would you have
the same opportunity

if Armstrong were alive?

Well, to be perfectly honest,
I doubt it very much.

- Inspector?
- Yeah, Velie?

Can I see you?

The bartender down at Bleeck's

swears that Porter, Shannon,
and Collins came in about 7:00.

They didn't leave the joint

till it closed up at 2:00
in the morning.

And you checked the girl's story,
so that just leaves him.

As I was saying, Mr. Freeman...

I heard what he said.
I was on the subway.

Well, we checked the subway
guards, cashiers, conductors.

None of them remember seeing you
at all the night of the murder.

You're the only suspect
whose alibi doesn't check out.

Am I? Where was your son?

We're not talking about my son.

Oh, yes, we are.
I know what your aim is.

You're trying to pin this on me
so you can save him.

Hey, now, look, buster, you...

It's all right, Velie.
The man has a point.

Please accept my apology.

- Sure.
- Inspector, he...

It's all right, Sergeant.
Let the man go back to work.

Good luck, Mr. Freeman.

Thanks... I guess.

- He's a prime suspect.
- Granted.

Problem is,
we don't have any evidence.

Hiya, junior, I brought you
some fruit.

Oh, thanks.

What are you doing here?

I'm not allowed any visitors
in the lockup.

Flannigan has ways.

You know, this is the very cell
where Willie "Mad Goose" Bombeck

gave an exclusive confession
to this reporter

that he was a triggerman
for the West Side Mob.

- He never testified in court.
- Why not?

They let him out on bail,

and he drowned
while he was taking a shower.

Yeah, these bars
bring back sweet memories

of the golden age
of crime reporting.

You know, Junior,
it's Flannigan's opinion

that somebody planted that gun.

What gun?

- The one I found in your fish tank.
- That sounds familiar.

You know, I think I read
that somewhere.

You wrote it.

Oh, yeah, "The Adventures
of the Purloined Gun."

Yowza.

You found a gun in my fish tank?

The missing gun
in the Armstrong case.

Didn't your pop tell you about it?

What were you doing
looking in my fish tank?

And anonymous fan
sent me the book.

I took the hint.

And frankly, Junior,
I think it stinks.

- My book?
- No, the frame-up.

You're not the brightest guy
in the world,

but you're brighter than that.

And what's more, Flannigan's
gonna say so in his column

for the world to see.

- Maestro!
- Velie.

The Inspector wants you
in the office right away.

Oh, yeah? All right.

Hey, hold it. I got to go
to the Inspector's office.

- He didn't say you were invited.
- He didn't say I wasn't.

I've never been in trouble
with the police.

My conscience won't let me sleep.

We understand.

It was Alma's idea.

I didn't want any part of it.
I told her so.

I said, "Alma..."

"I don't want any part of it."

Those were my exact words.

But Alma's a very strong-minded girl.

She forced me to do it.

Do what, Mr. Himes?

Lie to the police.

She didn't watch
"The Milton Berle Show" with me.

I watched it alone.

Alma didn't come till later,
after it was over.

I told her about the dog act.

Here goes Alma's alibi.

And it was Alma that fingered Junior
in the first place.

Sure, it's starting to add up.

Thank you very much, Mr. Himes.

Take him out.
Get a signed statement.

- Send in the cab driver.
- Yes, sir.

What cab driver?

While you were loafing
at the taxpayers' expense,

we've been checking out leads.

Trying to find out who put the gun
in my fish tank?

I see you've been busy, too,
Flannigan.

Velie checked out
the cab companies,

came up with a driver

who dropped off a fare
at our house yesterday afternoon.

- Inspector Queen?
- Yeah, thanks for coming in.

I want you to look at a picture.

Is this the person you rode
in your cab yesterday afternoon?

- Yep, that's the one.
- You sure?

Sure, I'm sure. How could you
forget a face like that,

not to mention the things
that go with it?

Thanks. You can go.

Yeah, Alma.

I'll tell Velie to pick her up.

On second thought, this is
one arrest I want to make myself.

Banner headline...

"Ellery Queen Cleared,
Secretary Nabbed."

Give me a nickel, Junior. I want
to phone this in while it's still hot.

Here... this one's on the house.

[Knocking on door]

Just a sec!

Ohh.

[Clears throat]

Ah. Oh, I'm afraid I...
I took a little long.

I'm sorry. I wasn't decent.

May we come in?

Well, the place really is a mess.

Come in.

I... I really wasn't
expecting company.

This isn't a social call.

Miss Van Dine dropped a stocking.
Will you pick it up, Velie?

Yes, sir.

Going on a little trip?

Well, yeah, sort of.

Your boyfriend told us, Alma.

Yeah, I was afraid of that.

So you started packing?

Well, only because I was afraid
you wouldn't believe me

if I told you the real truth.

What is the real truth, Alma?

The real truth is that I didn't go
straight to Ronnie's after work.

I remembered that the department
stores were open late,

so I went shopping.

- Straight from the office?
- Yeah.

See? I told you
you wouldn't believe me.

Do you know Mrs. Fletcher,
a scrub woman?

Oh, that old witch.

What's she been telling you
about me?

Only that you and Bud Armstrong
worked late at night sometimes,

often very late, even all night.

Yeah, well, he was
a very persuasive kind of guy,

and I used to believe
everything he told me...

that is, until I found out

he was telling a lot of other girls
the same things.

What happened
the night he was killed?

Well, he made a pass at me,
and I said no,

and I felt kind of proud of myself
for being such a good girl,

so I decided I deserved a reward,
and I went shopping.

[Sighs]

Boy, it sure feels good
to tell the truth.

I sure hated to have Ronnie
tell those lies for me.

Basically, I'm a very honest person,
and I really hate lies.

Why did you go to my brownstone
yesterday afternoon?

Oh, I didn't.

There's a cab driver
I'd like you to meet

who says you have
an unforgettable face,

among other things.

Now, look... see,
I got this call from a guy

who said that he was working
in your office

and that you wanted me
to meet you at your house

'cause you were on your way home.

- And...
- What happened?

What happened?

Well, nothing happened.
That's what happened.

I got to your brownstone
and I rang the bell,

and nobody was there.

So, I stood around for a couple
of minutes, and... and then I left.

And that is the truth.

Did you ever read a book

called "The Adventure
of the Purloined Gun"?

No.

Oh, come on, now...
part of your job

was to read the plots
of the Maestro's stories

for that Ellery Queen comic book.

Now, this list of Ellery's novels
came from your desk,

and "The Purloined Gun"
is almost at the top of the list.

Oh, come on... so I can't remember
the title of the book.

Those books are all alike, anyway.

Miss Van Dine, you're under arrest.

What for?

Suspicion of murder.

Well, if that don't beat all.

Well, that's what you get
for telling the truth today, huh?

MR. FREEMAN: I honestly thought
you people were artists,

and you turn out to be nothing
but second-rate hacks.

Look at this tree.

What kind of a tree
is that suppose to be, Vinnie?

A magnolia tree.

Oh, a magnolia tree.

Oh, well, I'm sure
the horticulturalists

will be tickled pink,

but what about the kids, Vinnie,

those sweet kids with jam
and peanut butter on their faces

who want to see cute trees?

- Cute trees?
- Yes.

I'm gonna be sick.

Yes, well, you do that,
but after you fix up these strips.

Now, get out of here.

- Uh, Mr. Freeman?
- Hmm?

Oh, yeah... uh, Queen.

Yes. Have you got a moment?

Well, if it's about that comic strip,
forget it.

The kids aren't buying
detectives anymore.

No, I wanted to ask you
about all that stuff

that was on Armstrong's desk
when he was killed.

Well, the police impounded
some of it as evidence.

Yeah, I know they took the drawing
that Armstrong marked.

I'm thinking about the other drawings,
the ones he didn't mark.

- Oh, all that stuff was tossed out.
- Tossed out in the trash?

Well, yes.
That's all it was.

No, wait. Wait.
I cleared the desk myself.

I remember I put all the stuff
in the box...

and I put the box... in the closet.

Oh.

- May I borrow this box?
- Oh, keep it.

What about your artwork?

I told you, Queen...
the superheroes are dead.

They've been replaced
by sweet, lovable little critters

from the swamp. Sorry.

Well, I'll bear up under it.
Thank you.

Congratulations, Inspector,
for the way you handled

such a delicate matter
in your department.

I must admit we were all having
a fit while Ellery was in the lockup.

A little upset, myself.

Well, that's all water
under the bridge, so to speak...

complete vindication
for you and the department.

Fine, fine.

And I wouldn't be surprised
if you got a commendation

for the brilliant police work
that led to the arrest

of the Van Dine woman.

While you're at it, put in
a good word for Sergeant Velie.

I'll make a note of that.

The important thing is
that woman's behind bars,

which is where she belongs.

I'm not so sure.

- Huh?
- Huh?

I don't think she did it.

I don't care what you think.

Why'd you have to tell
the Deputy Commissioner?

Sometimes, Ellery,
I don't understand you.

This is approximately the way
the top of Armstrong's desk looked

when he was killed.

As far as I'm concerned,
we got the goods on Alma.

The case is closed.

He was sitting behind the desk,
and he was holding a pencil.

I know all that.

Well, he tried to leave us a clue
to the killer's identity.

If it was Alma,
why didn't he write Alma?

Easy... he died!

Well, he had 10 seconds or so.

If it was Alma, he could have
started to write the name.

He could have written "A-L" or "A."

Why didn't he write just any name?

Why didn't he just mark off
your name?

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

Alma did it!

[Doorbell rings]

I'll get it.

If that's Velie, tell him
I'm not interested

in any homicide cases
at the moment.

I'm reading "Orphan Annie."

Hiya, Junior. Glad to see
you're getting your color back.

Well, I didn't realized I'd lost it.
Why don't you come on in?

Well, look what the cat dragged in.

Hi, Inspector. Don't get up.

I happen to have a couple of tickets
to the fight at the Garden tonight,

if you guys are free.

Well, thank you.
That's very thoughtful.

I was just reading
the early-bird edition

of tomorrow morning's Gazette...
your column, Flannigan.

Oh, yeah, about that...

Although they played up the story
of the arrest of Alma Van Dine...

big front-page story...

there's no mention
of your apology to Ellery.

Inspector,
you have Flannigan's word.

I wrote a complete apology

and added it to the bottom
of a column I'd already written.

Now, my city editor, the rat,

decided the column was too long
and blue-penciled the apology.

- He did what?
- You know, he crossed it out.

That's it!

That's the answer.

Now I know what Bud Armstrong
was trying to tell me.

Do you know?

You have all the clues...

blue pencil...

the mark on the drawing... this mark.

Oh, and don't forget the gun.

Don't forget the fact
that it was unloaded

when I saw it before the murder.

And what else?

Oh, you might also consider
all the jobs of the suspects.

Got it?

Okay, let's find out if we're right.

These are the drawings
around Bud Armstrong's desk

when he was killed...

in his hand, a blue pencil.

Now, he couldn't use it
to defend himself against a gun,

but he did use it
in the final 10 seconds of his life

to try to help us solve
the mystery of his murder.

I don't see how.

If you'll be still and listen,
he'll tell you.

- Go on, Ellery.
- Thank you, Dad.

Suppose Armstrong wanted to tell us
that Phil Collins did it, for example.

He could have made his mark
on this figure drawing.

He didn't.

Or if he wanted
to implicate Vincent Porter,

the background artist,
he could have chosen this drawing.

Well, he didn't.

The shading on this one
would have pointed to Lyle Shannon.

So, what's your point, Queen?

Armstrong didn't single out
any of us.

Well, that little blue line sure
doesn't have anything to do with me.

He chose this particular drawing
for a reason.

Sure. It's the only one with letters.

How about it, Freeman?
The Gazette will pay 1,000 smackers

for an exclusive interview
with a confessed killer.

I didn't do it. I hate violence.

Let's just suppose for a moment

that you did pull that trigger,
Mr. Freeman.

Maybe you had some wild notion
of getting rid of Bud Armstrong

so you could take his place
and put out your own comic book.

- What, are you trying to be cute?
- No, that's your area.

I'm just trying to point out
that Armstrong had a sample

of your comic book
with your name on it

right here on his desk,
within easy reach.

He could have written a line
under your name,

but he didn't do that, either.

But that doesn't leave anybody.
You've eliminated all the suspects.

No, Dad, no.
I'm just trying to point out

that Armstrong did not
pick this drawing

because of the letters
in the balloon.

Well, he didn't pick it
because it's a picture of you.

We're not back to that, are we?

No. No, he chose it,
with his last clear thoughts,

because it was a finished drawing,
with all the elements in it.

He made his blue-pencil "X"
over the lettering,

which meant, "Cross this out.
Omit the dialogue."

What's left?

The figure, the background,
and the shading.

Collins, Porter, and Shannon.

But the bartender at Bleeck's
saw us come in.

Well, you made sure of that.

He let us out when he closed up.

Yes, but in between,
when the place was crowded

and the bartender was busy
with customers,

you snuck out the back way
and came up here.

It had to be somebody
from the inside,

somebody who knew
there was a gun in that box.

It was three somebodies.

It took three of you
to get up the nerve.

You probably decided to kill him

before you went to the bar
to establish your alibi.

On the way, you must have
stopped off to buy cartridges,

a box of.38s.

Most of the bullets ended up
in a trash container or a sewer.

You only needed three...
one apiece.

After the gun was loaded,

one of you led the way
to Armstrong's office.

You caught him by surprise.

[Gunshot]

[Gunshot]

[Gunshot]

I don't know who fired the first shot
or who nearly missed.

As far as the law is concerned,
it doesn't matter.

All three of you
killed Bud Armstrong.

And one of you got the bright idea
to frame Ellery,

stop by the brownstone,
put the gun in the fish tank,

and then sent the book
to Flannigan.

Yeah. In case that didn't work,

you set up Alma as a patsy
with a fake phone call.

There's no proof of any of that,
Queen.

You don't have a thing on us.

Dad, may I suggest
you have Sergeant Velie

check out all the pawn shops and
sporting-goods stores in the area

till he finds a clerk who can identify
the three customers

who bought a box of.38 cartridges
the night of the murder?

You're not going to take me alive.

Yeah?

You think.

Bam! Pow! You're terrific!

This place is starting
to get to me, Dad.

You better take me out of here.

We still have time to catch
the main event at the Garden.

Velie, put the cuffs on these birds
and get them out of here.

We got them.

This is Flannigan.
Get me the Gazette.

Alma, have you thought it over?
Will you stay and work for me?

Please. I need you.

Well, I know how you feel
about violence,

but how do you feel about sex?

Shh, not in front of the critters.

I'll stay.

FLANNIGAN: Hiya, toots... Flannigan
with the story of the century.

Take this down...

"Encouraged by this reporter,
mystery scribbler Ellery Queen

provided a 'sock-sational' climax

to the case that nearly cost him
his freedom.

It happened...

in a swank comic-book
publishing office,

high atop a gleaming
Manhattan tower...

at a time when all good
little boys and girls...

were saying
their beddy-bye prayers."

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