All language subtitles for Rockford Files S05E12 With the French Heel Back_ Can the Nehru Jacket Be Far Behind.DVDRip.NonHI.en.UNVSL

You speak of black market goods.

Well, hells bells, I've bought
more than one stolen calf in my time.

Top knot.

What makes it all very new
and very now is the full length...

"Private detective." Now
there's a really creepy occupation.

They don't slash their
wrists or mangle themselves.

Carol was wearing
a hospital smock.

You should design
exclusively for the dead.

Hey, what do you
say let's talk, huh?

No inglese.

ROCKFORD ON ANSWERING
MACHINE: This is Jim Rockford.

At the tone, leave your
name and message.

I'll get back to you.

Jim, Coop.

I'm at the address you wrote
down for the poker game tonight.

This is a gas
station, it's closed.

There's no one around
and now my car is stalled.

Now, you got to
call me at 466-3...

I thought you were going
to buy a new deck of cards.

Well, I did buy a
new deck of cards,

but Angel's been
playing with these.

You know how he's
always sitting there

bending the cards and
flipping them in the wastebasket.

I had to borrow
some from L.J. Hello.

Jim, it's Carol
Calcote. I need help.

Oh, Carol?

Yes. I haven't much
time. I'm in terrible trouble!

I think somebody's
trying to kill me.

I ran. I don't even
have my shoes.

Where are you?

Oh, Lord!

Carol!

Carol!

Carol?

Rocky, hang on to this phone.

If anybody picks it up,
don't let them hang up.

I'm going over to the
restaurant and trace the call.

Anybody there?

Hello.

Hello, anybody there?

I've been waiting on
this phone for 35 minutes.

Now, don't hang up!

Would you relax, sir?

We're not going to hang up.

Okay.

Are you the complainant? Yeah.

Did you find
anything? Not a thing.

There's a guy at the
other end of the phone,

keeps screaming,
"Don't hang up!"

Oh, that's my dad.

Yeah, Dad, the police are here.

They're searching.

Searching for what?

Look, I don't mind sitting here,

listening to my
joints get stiff,

but I would like to know...

Hey! Hang on, Dad! Hang on!

Hey, Officer! Wait, wait!

Where are you going?
You're not finished here.

Finish, what? Where? You've
been practical joked, friend.

There's nobody. Nothing.

We just got a 187,
a priority call. Sorry.

Hey, Dad, that was
the police, leaving.

I know where Carol
stays when she's in town.

It's a hotel called the Trenton
Key. I'll go over there and check.

What in blazes is
going on, sonny?

Dad, when I find out something,

I'll explain it to you.

Carol?

Carol?

Oh, my God!

I don't understand it, Jim.

I just don't understand.

Boy!

Why does a nice package
like that go out a window?

I can't figure suicide.

Never could.

I had an aunt once
closed her own book.

Only she used pills.

Suicide, is that how
you figure this? Suicide?

Yeah.

It isn't a suicide, Frank.

Oh, it isn't, huh?

Come on, Rockford.

You said she called you, right?

She said she was
terrified, emotional terror,

anxiety, religious reference.

And out the window.

You're forgetting she told me
someone was trying to kill her.

Maybe she was lying to
you. Did you ever think of that?

She was wearing a hospital gown.

That can be explained
a hundred ways.

She's in the hospital, okay?

The tests come back.

She has some kind
of incurable disease

and then she gets terrified
and goes out the window.

You're checking the hospital?

Well, of course not
yet. I just got here.

Hey, Rockford, this is
an official investigation.

You are a civilian.
That gives you no status.

I am also the complainant who
called the police three hours ago

and got treated like a
Duncan yoyo by two cops,

who dashed off on a murder call.

Then I come here
and I find Carol dead.

Now, if your coroner puts
the time of death after that call,

your department is in trouble.

Well, that call must have been
the Consuello Hooper murder.

Whatever.

That is a good, clean
murder, Rockford. This?

This is nothing but a suicide.

Nothing but a suicide.

I have a little experience
in these things.

Oh, how much?

I think it was six
weeks, at last count.

Six weeks is a long time when
you're working 10 hour days.

Ask my wife Dorie.

A long time.

A very long time.

Hey, I've been hanging on
this phone for almost 20 minutes.

Yeah. Okay. Okay.

Billings, what's going on?

Are you kidding?
That Argentine playgirl,

the one that married
that rock star,

got popped tonight.

The press room is
jammed with reporters.

Well, you tell Mr. Hooper,
it's Lieutenant Becker,

at the Los Angeles
Police Department.

Los Angeles, California.

London, England. Stevie Hooper.

Hey, Dennis, a friend of
mine got murdered tonight,

and Dusenberg, that six
weeks homicide veteran...

What do you mean you
can't get through to him?

I thought you said you
were sitting right next to him?

And you still can't
get through to him?

Would you have him call me?

Thank you!

He says it's a suicide.

What suicide? It's
first-degree murder.

Well, that's what I said.
But he saw the window,

that's all he can
think of is suicide.

What window? Consuello
Hooper got it in the bathtub with a...

We're not talking about
the same thing, are we?

I don't think so. Go.

Carol Calcote, an
old friend of mine.

But Dusey's handling that case.

Well, Dusey keeps smelling the
case up with split second assumptions.

You know how much
I'd love to help you, Jim,

but Consuello
Hooper got it tonight.

Now, that's a very big homicide.

I've already been
photographed by the 11:00 news.

I've been talking into AP
and UPI mikes all night.

And believe me when I tell you,

it's a real popcorn machine.

Dennis, I need some help.

This girl meant a lot to me once
and I know she was murdered.

Well, you give it to Dusenberg.

Give him all your ideas.

He's a real good kid.

Becker here.

Yeah. Okay.

No. Yeah.

Okay.

Okay. Okay.

Okay.

Yeah.

Are you kidding, Officer?

Of course not, Miss Hatch.

That's the way I see it.

Carol Calcote would
never kill herself.

Never in a million years.

So start revising your theories.

Hey, you sound like
somebody I should talk to.

Get out of my way!

I'm sorry. I don't usually
break down crying like that.

It's not my style,
but she was...

She was special.

It's okay, Miss Hatch.
She was special to me, too.

Yeah, well, you haven't
started crying yet,

so we don't really
know for sure, do we?

Is that your style, Miss Hatch?

I beg your pardon?

Well, you bait people

and then wait and
see what comes back?

I had a psychiatrist
in New York,

he called me a counterpuncher.

He said that one of the reasons
I failed as a fashion model

was that I was
afraid to swing first.

That's something I'm
attempting to correct.

I was a friend of Carol's.

And I agree with you,
that she wasn't a suicide.

So that should give us
enough common ground

that we could sit and try
and explore a few alternatives.

How can the police
possibly think that

someone like Carol
could commit suicide?

No fashion model would
throw herself out of a window.

That's ridiculous!

Really?

Carol was a high fashion
model. She did collections.

She was the cream
of the business.

Girls on Carol's level develop

a reverence about their bodies.

They don't slash their
wrists or mangle themselves.

If they go, it's with pills.

Usually with full makeup
and dinner pajamas.

Carol was wearing
a hospital smock.

Doesn't that tell you something?

A high fashion model
wearing a hospital smock?

It might tell me
something tomorrow

after I've had a chance
to check a few hospitals.

Is someone paying
you for all this concern?

I mean, you said you
were a private detective.

Do you have a client?

Maybe I'm a counterpuncher,
too, Miss Hatch.

Alta.

Did you make that up yourself?

You betcha.

But it still left me an inch
too short with no takers.

To be a high fashion model you
have to have a certain proportion.

And you have to have
what's called editorial quality.

Carol had that, I didn't.

So I quit modeling.

Look, do you think we
could get out of here?

I've been on a plane for
five hours, up all night,

and I've got to be at
Masters' studio tomorrow.

I thought you said
you quit modeling.

I did. I'm a lighting engineer.

Is that with a little hat and
an engine full of steam?

Why don't you tell
me about Masters?

I know he's one of the
fashion world's big numbers

and he owns a
string of boutiques.

But what else?

For a while he limited himself
to New York and now LA.

He rents a '20s mansion
from the silent film days.

Like most Eastern couturiers,

he'd like to abandon
Southern California completely.

Why? Afraid of earthquakes?

Worse, afraid of the buyers.

No one knows
what's going to sell.

Italian designers
divide Italy at Naples.

Everything south
of that is Africa.

Couturiers divide
California at Hearst Castle.

South of that is Oz.

So the big problem
here is trying to figure out

what the munchkins will go for.

Why does he show in LA?

His styles have worked here.

He doesn't compete
with the old line houses.

He's trendy, innovative

and Southern
Californians like that.

They think they're the future.

They may be right.

Oh, this is my car.
Can I give you a lift?

Yes, I'm staying at the
Trenton Key. Trenton Key Hotel.

Like Carol. Yeah,
it's a fashion hangout.

But, somehow, I think...

I think I'd really
hate it there tonight.

I have a couch you could use.

No invitation to
the master suite?

I'm not looking for
action, Miss Hatch.

Just trying to be a friend.

You haven't called
me by my first name.

You haven't told it to me.

It's Margaret, Margaret
Hatch. From Bend, Oregon.

My parents are in
the dairy business

and I'd love your couch, Jim.

You got it, Margaret.

Jim, I'm not sure how
Masters is going to react.

I just work for him.

Well, you just point him
out and I'll take it from there.

Ah, Alta, I'm jolly
glad you're here.

We're all working
through the anguish.

I think it's the only way.
Ready to go to work?

Yeah.

I had to fire my set decorator.

He showed up with rolls of
blue crepe and a staple gun.

Now, what I want is a fluorescent
grayish look at stage rear,

then soft light toward the front

and at the end of the ramp here.

See, I need that sterile
effect for a backdrop.

Uh, along here,

filtered bright without the
glare, like this California sun

clawing through the smog, eh?

Okay, well, then, I'll just
hood the fluorescents.

And add a few overheads.

Hmm. Right to the end.

No dress rehearsal.

And you know how models are when
they can't see the end of the ramp.

Who let you in?

I let myself in, Mr. Masters.

Hmm.

"Private detective."

Now, there's a really
creepy occupation.

Well, we can't all
be fortunate enough

to sell old French
paratrooper pants

to fashion-conscious
middle America.

Don't knock what sells, buddy.

I think Carol Calcote
was murdered.

Oh, really?

Like some old Bogie movie, eh?

I haven't got time for this.

I have one God-awful
screaming headache

brought on by the
logistics of this show.

And your dead model, Carol,

is just a little
inconvenience, right?

Did you hear what I just said?

I just said that I didn't have
time to discuss dear Carol,

because of this damned show.

My, my, my. Haven't we become
obsessed with our own little problems.

Sometimes I think we
need to just drop everything

and go to the beach for the day.

I despise what we
just said, Mr. Rockford.

Of course, you can have as
much of our time as you require.

Well, we won't need much time.

We just want to
ask a few questions.

I'm sorry about
that affectation.

I picked it up in
Milano last season.

Mr. Masters.

Pardon... Not now, Margo.

It's Mr. Bancroft.

Ah, money men.

Could we talk in my
office? It's right upstairs.

I've got some aspirin up there.

I'll just be a few minutes.

Yes, Mr. Bancroft?

Yes, I know.

Look, the show will
go on as scheduled.

I haven't had a good
week, Mr. Rockford.

I've lost two close friends,
Consuello Hooper and Carol.

I'm opening a
collection on Friday.

And I've assumed the obligation

of designing
Consuello's burial gown.

You're working for someone
interested in Carol's death?

No, no. Carol was a friend.

I just don't think she
would commit suicide.

How about you?

I'll never forget the
first time I met her.

She showed up an hour late,

exploded into the atelier
in a huge Mongolian coat,

her pipe-cleaner legs garbed in
beige wooly socks, T-strap flats.

She looked divinely improbable,
laughing, babbling excuses, apologies.

There was nothing
suicidal about Carol.

How about her private life?

Well, she ran with a
rather rough crowd.

The latest was a leather
model from Barucci's.

It's not uncommon. Model's
private lives are often a gesture

against the artificial
climate they work in.

They like to come
down from the pedestal?

See, this is difficult for me.

You see, I have a
theory of my own.

It's a nasty little theory,

and, well, since Carol is dead
and Barucci is so damned anxious

to sue at the drop of a hat,

I don't know what
to do about it.

Maybe another
aspirin would help.

You've got quite
a tongue on you.

Isn't there some sort of privilege
thing that works with a private detective?

Yeah, but it only
exists with a client.

Despite the preconceptions
you doubtless had

about me thus far, I
do have a soul, Mr...

Rockford. I know it's a
toughie, but I was born with it.

Well, I feel I'd like to pursue
my own theories about her death.

If I hired you and
you worked for me,

then anything we discussed
would be confidential?

Yeah, well, unless
it ends up in court.

Then I could be questioned
and I'd have to talk.

If it ends up in court,
we'll all have to talk.

Will you work for
me, Mr. Rockford?

Will you please
explore a theory I have

that might have
caused Carol's death?

I'll pay your price.

Well, it's $250 a
day plus expenses.

Jolly good.

Will you follow me?

Now,

this is called a toile.

It's part of the pattern for an
original dress design of mine.

You see the initial "M"
stitched into the fabric,

the serial number in the corner.

They're unique. So
is that shade of plum.

This piece along
with four or five others

make up the pattern
for a Masters original.

Who buys them?

Boutiques, fashion houses, they
reproduce them, stitch for stitch

and sell the finished garment
under our licensing agreement.

That's where the problem lies.

Two sets of patterns are
missing from a fitting room

that she had access to.

Carol?

Who knows how much
influence or intimidation

Carol was subjected
to by her boyfriend?

The model at Barucci's.

And you think the missing
patterns might be there?

His models are grown up
street urchins from Naples.

Carol was dating one
of them called Luigi.

Perhaps she came to her senses.

Decided not to sell my designs.

Who knows what Luigi or
Barucci himself might have done?

It's a tough business.

I wouldn't exclude murder.

I guess I'll start with the
leather crowd at Barucci's.

Yeah, how you doing? You Luigi?

Luigi?

No. Pietro.

Oh, well, where you got all the
good stuff hangered here, Pete?

No, no, no inglese,
no inglese. No?

Hi. Hello, I am Sophia.

May I help you?
Why, sure, sure. Here.

Jimmy Joe Meeker.

Yeah, that's my shipping line.

They also got a line of
horses, a line of tall tales

and a line I reserve for
pretty ladies like yourself.

Thank you. You're from Dallas?

No, Houston, honey.

Houston. Houston, yeah, yeah.

Yeah, and I got myself one
hellatious problem, you know.

Sue Ellen, that's
my saddle mate,

she's going to be coming into
town, see, and before I left she said,

"Jimmy Joe, how come you
never give me any arrival presents

"like old Razor Boyd
Hopkins does Lizzy

"every time they go zipping up
to New York for the weekend?"

I beg your pardon?

Yeah, well, old Boyd,

yeah, well, he's an old
poker playing buddy of mine.

You know, Hopkins,
Eaton and Smith,

that's the Range Equipment
and Heavy Harvesters?

Oh, yes, of course.

Yeah, yeah, well,
old Boyd, you know,

he can spend money like
it's West Virginia ditch water.

Yeah, he and Sue Ellen, they got me
figured I'm some kind of cheapskate.

So what I need, honey, is I
need some real prime goods.

I'm going to need something...

Oh, a dress or a
coat or something

that is so fine and so new
Sue Ellen ain't never seen

the pattern or the cut on no
other West Texas honeycup.

Yes, sir, now they tell me up
and down Rodeo Drive here that

you got yourself a little back
room for the special buyer.

You know, you
get a dude in here,

just don't care what's
written on the price tag,

you take him in the back room,

he just gets himself
wasted on fine goods, huh?

They said to ask for Luigi.

Ah, yes, something
special. Yes, sir.

It so happens we do. Yes.

Well, fine. That's real fine.

Now which way are you
gonna run this old bull?

This way.

Thanks, Pete.

I'm Luigi. You ask for me?

Yeah, how you
doing there, Luigi?

Yeah, they tell me that you
whip up a fine fashion omelet.

You know, new patterns ain't
never been seen. Mucho lire.

You speak of black market goods.

Well, hells bells, I've bought
more than one stolen calf in my time.

I got no problem with buying
stuff off the back of the truck.

No problem at all.

We got some special merchandise,

but Barucci himself
would have to sell it to you.

Look, this is very smart.
We can make it up in her size.

You know, Mrs. Meeker's size.

Yeah, I don't think
so, honey, no, no.

No? I'm sorry.

Hello? Yes?

I'm sorry.

Did I hear you mention
Consuello Hooper?

Yes, yes. Mr. Barucci is
in town with a burial gown

of his own design for Consuello.

But he just found out that
her will specified a design

by St. Michelle,
the French couturier.

Mercy, mercy, honey. I
don't want you thinking

I'm just some kind of
moonshucker with a long line.

No, sir, no.

But it's just that we have
shown you absolutely everything.

Well, now, maybe
what you ain't showing is

what you can't sell, honey.

Meaning?

Meaning that Luigi says Mr. Barucci
is the big time quartermaster.

Now, there's some super
special things that only he can sell.

Well, Luigi is mistaken.

No, he ain't, Miss Sophia.

So you tell Mr. Barucci that
Jimmy Joe Meeker from Houston

is willing to come to his party.

You see, one of the
only joys on this earth

that money can buy is
knowing that you got the best.

So you sit tall, honey,

and don't you rope
no one-eyed Angus.

Texas boys just don't
give up that easy.

What are you looking for?

Well, I already told you, honey.

We've got closed-circuit TV.

Ultrasonic motion detectors.

Contacts on all the
doors and you think

we are such fools that you can
walk in here and steal from us?

Well, I ain't gonna
steal nothing, darling.

Oh, don't darling me.

Hey, what do you
say let's talk, huh?

No inglese. Oh, yeah.

Ciao.

That Barucci's got a security
system like an East German art gallery.

I could have told you that.

Masters could,
too, but he didn't.

Well, maybe he
assumed that you knew

how important secrecy
is in high fashion.

Thank you.

I guess Masters' security
would be just as tight, huh?

Hmm. More so.

He depends on impact
and surprise a lot.

The collection models don't even
have a fitting until the day of the show.

You know, this business
you're so attached to,

it's unpredictable hard work.

You deal with high-strung egos.

What's the real attraction?

It's a power trip.

You're dealing with
customers who have everything

and now they want
the best of everything.

For a woman, that means

how she looks and
what she's wearing.

Hey, where are you going?

I could sleep on the
couch in a man's apartment

when I didn't care
about the man.

But I like you, Jim.

I like you a lot and I can
see why Carol called you.

I'd call you, too,
if I were in trouble.

I'm at the Sand and Surf.
It's two miles up the beach.

Room 23, all right?

Is that the last of the
Consuello Hooper inventory?

Yes, sir. Hi, Jim.

Hi, Dennis. Take a look at this.

You know, I can believe 20,
40 pairs of shoes, but 274...

You don't look so good.

Yeah, I was shopping.
It always wears me out.

Where did you find
the drug paraphernalia?

All over the house.

They had reds, whites,
blacks, you name it.

A real pharmacy.

How do you list this, Dennis?

Novelties.

Well, I'll leave you
to your own problems.

But I just thought I'd drop in and
tell you I was talking to Dusenberg

and he's closing the
Carol Calcote investigation.

Yeah, well, tomorrow's
Consuello's wake.

If Stevie Hooper hits town,
Bel-Air's going to look like Woodstock.

Did you hear what
I said, Dennis?

Your boy in there

is wrapping a
homicide in tin foil.

I just have no time for this.

Jim, out! I've
really got no time.

Come on, let's go, let's go!

Thanks, Dennis.
Yeah, you're welcome.

Hello? Is anybody in there?

Is anybody in there? Hello?

Yeah, yeah! Can
I use your phone?

What for? Please! I
have to call an ambulance.

Oh, yeah, of course.

Out!

Move it, Rockford.

I'm telling you, this is
some kind of mistake.

Now, wait a minute.
Why are you doing this?

Just protecting an investment.

Get out of the way!

You hit him.

Hey, Burt, they must
have heard those shots.

I just saw lights
go on over there.

Let's go!

Yeah, but what about...
Forget him, he's gone.

My nurse left a
message for the lieutenant

and the lady said
she'd be right down.

You are very lucky.

Just lucky.

Very lucky would have been
none of this ever happening.

Put a dressing on that.

As soon as she gets a
dressing on, you can leave.

I'll leave these for you.

Souvenir.

Thank you.

You all right, Jim?

Oh, yeah, yeah. I...

I thought it might be worse
when I had them call you.

Well, what happened? Hey!

Well,

I got faked out.

A couple of guys drove
me up to the mountain.

I got lucky.

Did you get a look at them?

Well, I'd recognize them.

And this is what you got
me off the Hooper case for?

I'm sorry it's just a
flesh wound, Dennis,

but it is my flesh!

They fired these into my body.

Just a couple inches over,
I'd be into decomposition.

Hey, I'm...

I'm sorry, Jim. This Hooper
case got me all fouled up.

You know, sometimes I wish
I didn't even get promoted.

Here you go.

Oh, thank you.

You wanna know something
that really clogs my engine?

Here we have Consuello
Hooper, the Argentine playgirl,

found dead, and then
on the same night,

we have Carol
Calcote over a balcony.

Those are two
different cases, Jim.

Yeah, but everywhere I go on
the Carol Calcote investigation,

I keep stumbling over
Consuello Hooper.

They're both BPs.

Fashion models and
jet-setters know the same crowd.

And when both of them
die on the same night,

doesn't it make you wanna scratch
your head and wonder just a little?

Well, Dusen... Oh,
well, Dusey, Dusey.

I really like Dusey, yeah.

I think what I like
most about him is

the professional way he
goes about an investigation.

You know, calling home
to see if dinner's ready

and checking to see if the plumber
has fixed the upstairs bathroom,

worrying that Dorie's
worried that he's worried.

Okay, okay, so he's
a little inexperienced.

You know, Dennis,

Carol was a Masters model.

Now, Consuello was
often wardrobed by Masters.

Now, Consuello isn't the
type just to go into the boutique

and try things on. I mean, she's
going to get first-class treatment.

Are you trying to say
that Carol and Masters

went over and popped Consuello?

Come on, you're
really stretching that.

I'm not saying that.

Maybe they witnessed it.

Yeah, Masters could
have killed Consuello.

Why?

Well, I don't know.

Maybe she didn't like his
designs and he went crazy.

Hey, you gotta meet
this guy, Dennis.

I don't buy it. Forget the coincidence
and let Dusenberg handle it.

And I gotta get through
to Stevie Hooper.

I was expecting
that call over here.

I just hope that the
switchboard is alert to it.

Dennis, I'm the only one
working the homicide angle

on Carol Calcote's death.

That's why I picked up these.

Add some dice and boardwalk to that
theory and we sell it to Parker Brothers.

Lieutenant Becker? What?

You have an overseas phone
call from a Mr. Stevie Hooper.

That's it. Okay.
That's it. All right.

Wooded Slopes
Mortuary. That's right.

Did you handle the arrangements?

We prepared Consuello.

There must be hundreds
waiting to say goodbye.

Actually, most of them are
hoping to see Stevie Hooper.

Is everything all
right? Oh, I hope so.

We usually follow
up, but in this case,

our head cosmetologist, Keaton,

he went off the
deep end a little.

He did some strange
things, overdid the makeup.

Not exactly Raggedy Ann
cheeks and smiles, but close.

I think we caught most of them.

Well, no one's complained.

What would they say?

We have our reputation to
think of, we have an image.

Well, go ahead
and take care of...

Thank you.

Monty,

your gown is magnificent.

Nice to see you again, Monty.

Are you staying
for my collection?

Collection?

Your displays are accumulations.

Your gown for
Consuello is appropriate.

You should design
exclusively for the dead.

In my father's day, we would
be in the bois with pistols.

You knew who he was?

Please, please, please.

Not another scene
like the spring showing

at the Plaza Athénée in Paris.

Listen, Masters darling.

I know the gown you were
designing would have been exquisite.

But there can be no jealousy
between you and Monty.

I mean, it was in her will.

Pardon, madame.

Among couturier, you are
considered a Schneider.

A Schneider? Hmm, excuse
me a moment, will you?

Thank you so much.

I beg your pardon.

Oi, mate!

Where's Consuello?

Over here.

Does the bird look
all right to take inside?

I'll tell you, bloody Stevie gets
me in these bloody messes.

Oh, yeah. Stevie's not coming?

No, he sent me.

I'll tell you. The things I
do for that bloke, mate,

fill a book. Bloody book.

Let's go.

Rockford.

I hardly expected
you to be here.

In addition to everything
else, I have just allowed myself

to become involved in a
shabby little street brawl.

What are you doing here?

I thought you were
watching Barucci's.

Just what I wanted
to talk to you about.

Is there a chance that Barucci's
in trouble with loan sharks?

Loan sharks?
Don't be ridiculous.

Well, I know they're very
active in the garment center,

a lot of high-risk businesses.

You know, they have very direct
ways of protecting investments.

We're talking
about haute couture,

not some sleazy
ready-to-wear manufacturer.

Yeah, well, there's
an expression.

"No matter how you cut
it, it's still the rag business."

How's your cash situation?

I read where you
closed some boutiques.

Have you had any calls from your
money man, Mr. Bancroft, recently?

Pretty strange, huh?

Oh, maybe, maybe not.

What's that?

Dinner. I'll get mine.

Oh, well, that will be
a real energy boost.

I'll just wolf this right down and
go out and stop a freight train.

That, my dear, sir, is
a fashion model's feast.

Go easy on the wheat thins.

That's gastronomically
impossible.

Well, a real fashion model
would have had saltless crackers,

but what the
hell, let's splurge.

Why not?

I think I really got
to Masters today.

So, when did he send
out this cancellation notice?

5:30 by messenger.

That was after Consuello's wake.

Yeah, I suggested to him that he might
be in a little loan shark trouble, so,

an hour later, he canceled
the showing of his new line.

No notice. Just shutters the
place and gets out of town.

But it doesn't say anything
there about getting out of town.

Well, that probably comes later.

I keep wondering
about this guy Bancroft.

I'll give Dennis a call.

See if he's gotten
anything on him yet.

Lieutenant Becker, please.

Becker here. Hello,
Dennis, this is Jim.

Have you got anything on
this Bancroft, the banker?

Yeah. I got it right here.
Where did this guy come from?

What do you mean?

Well, this guy's as much a
banker as you're a jet pilot.

He's got a rap sheet
here that trails sparks.

24 arrests, one conviction.

All the witnesses at his
trials develop acute amnesia.

A real state-of-the-art
loan shark,

complete with thumbscrews
and a leather blackjack.

Why don't you try
this one on Dusey?

Tell him my guess is that
Masters is into Bancroft

for the money to
put on the show.

Why? Well, the why isn't
as important as the when.

But I figure that Bancroft
wants his money back.

Oh, there's one other thing.

What? Well, Masters
closed his show,

which means he won't
be getting any revenue

from this year's
new daring collection.

It's beginning to
stink bad, Dennis.

You think you could take a
moment and just glance it over?

That is, if Dusey hasn't filed it
along with the Black Dahlia case.

I'll take a look at it, Jim.

You're a pal.

Now, the problem I'm
having is figuring out

how you're gonna pay back
the money you borrowed from me

unless you open the show.

Mr. Bancroft,

if I open it, I give the police
and a lot of other people

a connection I don't
wanna give them.

You see, I don't care whether
you get stuck with the homicide rap.

You owe me half
a million dollars.

You're gonna open the show.

I can't, Mr. Bancroft.
They'll arrest me.

Looks like we're gonna have
to escort Mr. Masters on stage.

You're gonna be my
guest until tomorrow.

Now, you get on the
phone and uncoil this thing.

I want everybody who
got one of these contacted.

I killed two people,
Mr. Bancroft.

I'll go to prison.
It'll ruin the line.

This is a crazy society.

Used to be a guy
would have got froze.

Now a guy pops 19 people
in New York with a .44,

he sells his life story
to the movies for a mil.

Crazy.

That's the world today.

Who knows? It might
push sales through the roof.

All I know is I'm
getting my money back.

Now, that's my world
and that's all that counts.

I'm aware that your sensibilities
have been buffeted about

with toy soldiers, punk rock
residues, storm troopers.

I won't be showing
you anything like that.

I'm taking us back
to the clean line.

Past that point, if you will,

to the very clean line.

Antiseptically pure.

For that important
luncheon or cocktails for two,

Carolyn wears a
misty beige cashmere,

V-neck sweater dress,
suede, belted at the hip.

Over this, the simplicity
of an unconstructed

intern's jacket, double
breasted with notched lapel.

The brown veiled
hat and tan boots

contribute to the
excitement of the look.

For high disco dash,
Charlene features

the sexy silhouette of
a dusty rose, silk jersey

bandeau halter and
pants with matching gloves.

Over this, a forest
green surgeon's gown,

becomes a low calf-length,
disco coat with knit cuffs.

To tie it all together for
the height of all clothes chic,

a jade green surgeon's
cap worn pinched at the front,

veiled and flowered with
matching operating mask,

which doubles as a disco bag.

This is awful. They're
in hospital uniforms!

Seductive greens let you dress
the part for dinner party or disco.

Angie wears a delightfully
feminine forest green

technician's cap
with floral trim

to contrast with the strict
shape of her jade green cotton

scrub shirt and dark
green scrub trousers,

a crush of violet chiffon at
the waist, with a shock of gold

and jeweled overbelt
are dramatic accents,

while a print cotton overdrape

brings the colors
joyfully together.

This is insulting!

Please be patient.

This is a new direction.

It's the business of
haute couture to be daring.

Shape and sensuousness
are the key to Pat's disco look.

For sparkle and
shine, black silk blouse,

black gabardine pants
and veiled '40s hat

with rhinestone and
feather encrusted top knot.

What makes it all
very new and very now

is the full-length
poplin lab coat.

This is awful.
I've got to leave.

Liza, you were the very first
woman I ever saw in gypsy skirts,

the very last, too.

Lieutenant Becker, please.

Also, on the afternoon slate...

Give me the desk
sergeant, please.

Dress with disarming
pussycat bow.

At the neck, steel blue
and prune-clad wool vest

and matching gloves.

I like it. But not that much.

Cuffs, overall, freedom
of a three-quarter felted

consultation jacket for
strictly feminine appeal.

Margo! Take over!
I'll be right back.

Lou's candy-striper is a perfect
daytime look for shopping or resort wear,

teaming practicality
and pizzazz.

The innocence of a
softly-shaped pinafore

over unexpected hot pink blouse.

A casual cover of terry,
wide-shouldered and belted veiled hat...

Masters!

Hey, Masters!

Freeze!

Everybody freeze! Stay
where you are! Don't move!

Quite a little
accessory, Masters.

I'm ruined, totally ruined!

Carol and Consuello are dead.

I'd say you're still
ahead on points, pal.

All because of your incredible
insanity over a fashion line.

Carol was so gorgeous.

Try and forget it, huh?

What do you say we have dinner?

My mouth is just watering
for some wheat thins.

So, Masters took Carol to
Consuello's house that night

to get her to try and get Consuello
to wear his new collection.

Having someone like
Consuello wear it would make it.

But she laughed at him.

Oh, well, there's no
accounting for ego.

Personally, I can't see going
Asiatic over a bunch of dresses.

A bunch of dresses! It was
his whole life, his career.

When she said no, he
knew he'd be destroyed.

It's just too bad that Carol
was there to witness it.

Jim,

could you wear another jacket?

What's wrong with this one?

That shade of brown
doesn't work with anything.

Matter of fact,
I've never seen it

outside of Southern California.

Go pick one.

I'm sorry about the
way I feel about clothes.

I never could have a meaningful
relationship with any man

who owned a
polyester leisure suit.

I don't have one.
Go ahead and look.

Nehru jacket?

Oh, well, that. I've
had that quite a while.

It still fits.

Maybe it'll come back.

Let's go with the brown jacket.

Right.