Original subtitles

Intro

Music Intro

Music

It's okay, it's okay, I'll just fix it.

No, no, it's alright.

I almost passed by this place.

It's surprising to find an accountant in this

setup.

Well, I like old things.

Stylish.

I'm Reeve Baker.

Joe Gamble told me about you.

He said you specialise in riders?

Oh, yes, I remember.

Joe said that you might be stopping by,

Mr. Baker.

Call me Reeve.

Mr. Baker is somebody's grandfather.

Mind if I call you Terrence, or do

you prefer Terry?

Terrence will do nicely.

You ever read any of my stuff?

As a matter of fact, I have.

But my wife is your real fan.

She dotes on historical romances.

I believe she's read all 13 of them.

Bought or just read?

Both bought and read.

She'll be fascinated to learn that we've met.

Well now, I take it that you have

a problem.

More like a catastrophe than a problem, I'd

say.

The Feds.

They're going to audit me.

I see.

Now may I ask, who prepared your last

income tax return?

I did.

And you've never been audited before?

No, never.

How about your records?

Receipts?

Cancelled checks and so on?

I thought you might like to see them.

I never throw anything away.

Yes, I can see that.

Well?

What do you think?

Am I going to go to jail?

Well, no.

Not this year anyway.

Phew.

I knew I had something to tell you.

I have a new client.

Who?

Reeve Baker.

You met him?

I mean, you actually talked to him?

For at least an hour.

What is he like?

He just might well be the world's worst

record keeper.

Oh, no, I don't mean that.

I mean, what is he like?

Well, he spends every dime he gets.

On women mostly, to hear him tell it.

He drives an old sports car of some

kind.

He still rents, if you can believe it.

And he's being audited by the IRS.

Aside from that, I'd say he hasn't got

a care in the world.

He's not married.

Not now, not ever is the way I

believe he phrased it.

What else?

Well, in one respect, he's very much like

you.

Me?

How?

He never throws anything away.

Here, let me help you.

Thank you.

This has to be one of the most

delightful days that I have ever spent.

The coastline was so beautiful.

It certainly was, absolutely beautiful.

Wait, I have a surprise.

Just some champagne to toast your husband.

Me?

Yes.

But before that, I want to apologise for

monopolising the conversation all day.

All those wild storeys about my rather peculiar

lady friends were...

Fascinating, and I didn't believe a word of

them.

Weren't they fascinating, Terrence?

Oh, absolutely.

The really fascinating guy is you, mon ami.

Not only did you save me from the

feds, but you introduced me to the wonderful

world of tax shelters and deductible trips to

Greece and the joys of becoming a corporation.

So, here's to you, Terrence Carter, the prince

of tax avoidance.

Well, that's very kind of you, Reeve.

I mean every word of it.

Not just for straightening out my finances, but

you and Gwen are good people, solid.

I really need friends like you.

He's unusual, isn't he?

Reeve?

Yes.

I mean, he's different from all those other

writers who are your clients.

All they ever talk about is money.

I like it, but usually.

Reeve talks about the world.

He talked about a very great number of

extracurricular affairs, if that's what you mean.

That's such a dumb word, affairs.

Oh, what would you call them?

Oh, I don't know.

Dangerous liaisons, maybe.

Oh, I didn't tell you this, but one

of his cast-off lady friends came by

to see me the other day.

You?

Whatever for?

Oh, she wanted to find out whether Reeve

was really as broke as he claimed to

be.

What did you tell her?

I said, of course he's broke, he's a

writer.

He's a writer, isn't he?

Did she believe you?

Well, she went away.

Was she pretty?

Yeah, I guess so.

Why?

Oh, I don't know.

He talked so much about them that I

wondered what they're really like.

Oh...

Blonde, tall, young.

Not very articulate.

How young?

Twenty-two or so, I'd say.

Terrence.

Hmm?

Do you think that we're stuffy?

Stuffy?

Hmm.

Oh, particularly?

We're quiet, sensible, practical, prudent.

But stuffy?

No, I don't think so.

Why?

I don't know.

Get up in the morning, go down to

work.

I arrange other people's foreign travel and you

mess about with other people's money.

It all seems so stuffy to me.

Well, I like my wife, my home, my

job, my routine.

If that's what you call stuffy, then thank

God for stuffy people.

We never take any risks.

Prudent people always try to minimise the risk.

Oh, yeah, we're certainly very prudent.

Of course we are.

Well, I don't see anything wrong with taking

risks.

I mean, maybe a little excitement, maybe even

a small adventure.

You know why as well as I do.

People don't do such things.

Not people like us.

May I tell you something very confidential?

Of course.

You can come cook for me anytime.

That was a wonderful dinner, Mrs. Carter.

I was wondering if I could.

On the right, down the hall.

You can't run off to Acapulco without telling

her.

You'll break her heart.

Gwen, my love, this may surprise you, but

she hasn't got a heart.

All that lies beneath that admittedly attractive exterior

is a cold and calculating machine.

Her transistor might blow, that's true, but no

heart will break.

There is none.

That's utter cynicism.

Gwen's right, Reeve.

The poor girl won't be hurt, you know.

Melanie?

Well, perhaps.

But Melanie should have thought of that before

she tried to gain control over my life.

I'm not really going to Mexico.

I'm just merely going to disappear for a

while.

You know, fill up the deep freeze, lay

in some booze, and let the machine answer

all the phone calls.

Then you've done this before?

Sure.

Not only is it a welcome change, but

I get just one hell of a lot

of work done.

That's rotten.

That's absolutely rotten.

What would you have me do, Gwen?

Marry the wretched girl?

Just be honest with her.

Okay.

I will.

Melanie, my sweet.

We were just talking about you.

Really?

I'm going away.

Away where?

For how long?

Mexico.

Indefinitely.

I don't understand.

It means, my pet, that you and I

are through.

Done.

Finito.

That's not possible, Reef.

We love each other.

I'm sorry.

But it's over.

It's all over, Melanie.

You're doing a terrible, terrible thing.

But I guess you know that, don't you?

Please excuse me.

You see, Gwen.

Honesty is sometimes the worst possible policy.

I felt sorry for her.

Melanie.

I don't want to discuss it.

But you didn't feel sorry for her.

What that man did was inexcusable.

Still, it did make for a different kind

of dinner party.

That's not funny, Terrence.

Not at all.

And let's get something straight.

I don't ever want to hear Reef Baker's

name mentioned again, or his name mentioned again.

Don't talk about him in this house, okay?

Do you mind if I keep him on

as a client?

I don't care what you do, as long

as we don't ever talk about him.

How's Gwen?

Still mad at me, isn't she?

Because of Melanie.

Well, no, not really.

Yeah, sure she is.

That was a dumb thing for me to

do the other night.

I brought a little something for her.

Sort of a peace offering.

It's my new novel.

I wrote something on the inside.

To Gwen, who never throws anything away, I

offer friendship, love, Reef.

Well, that's really very nice.

She'd be pleased.

I hope so.

Well, I gotta be going.

Damn.

What's wrong?

I've lost a button off my jacket.

I wouldn't mind, except they're a match set,

handmade in Mexico.

I don't see it.

Neither do I.

Never mind.

Just save it for me if you find

it.

Sure.

See you, Terrence.

And thanks for the book.

Oh, um...

Reef!

Hello.

Hello.

What's wrong?

Nothing.

Old age, maybe.

You?

Hardly.

Here.

I brought you a surprise.

Actually, it's a peace offering from Reef.

He wrote something in the fly leaf.

Oh.

Maybe I'll...

I'll call him or write him a thank

you note.

Oh, if you write him...

Um, send this, will you?

His?

It popped off in the office today.

So, uh, how's your love life?

Ah, nothing to report.

I've been living like a monk.

Not reformed, I hope.

Reformed, anything is always so tiresome.

No, not reformed.

Just busy.

Don't forget.

I'm a corporation now.

Nice.

Yeah, it'll do.

Oh, by the way, Gwen sends her love.

Gwen?

Yeah, sure.

Give her mine too, will you?

I think that's my boy.

There's a ball over there.

You're awfully late.

Oh, I'm sorry, darling.

I had a really picky client.

Why don't we go out to dinner?

Well, actually, I would like something decent.

Since lunch today consisted of 18 holes with

Reeve Baker.

By the way, I think he's reformed.

Secretly.

Reformed?

How?

He says he's quit chasing women.

Well.

Maybe he's finally grown up.

I'm thinking about going to France for a

month, old buddy.

What'll I do for a golf partner?

I don't know, but I gotta get out

of here for a while.

There's this 23-year-old beauty, rich.

Well, let's see, it was what?

Three months ago, you claimed to be living

like a monk.

Well, that was then, and now's now.

I gotta cool it with this new one

for a while, though.

You know, the marriage thing.

So it's a Riviera for me, pal.

Well, do a bit of research while you're

there, and it could all be tax deductible.

That's right, I could write the whole thing

off.

Terrence, you're a marvel.

He said...

What?

He's going to France, that's all.

To cool off his new flame, the rich

heiress.

You're lying to me!

Why would I lie to you?

Gwen.

Get in.

We need to talk.

Reeve wasn't home, was he?

No.

Don't you have a key?

Yes, well, he lost his, so I gave

him mine.

Look, darling, I do understand.

I really do.

Understand?

What do you understand?

Reeve and I are lovers, and we have

been for many months.

But he wouldn't answer his door, would he?

Well, he's going to France.

He's doing some research, that's all.

He's going to send for me, you'll see.

Gwen, you're a fool.

Don't you understand yet?

He's pulling his same old tired routine.

Freezer full of food, plenty of booze, and

the machine answering all the calls.

He hasn't gone to France.

He's just trying to dump you the only

way he knows how.

That's not true.

That's not true.

Now stop this car and let me out.

I'm going to find him, and I'm going

to live with him, and I never want

to see you again.

So stop the car, please, right now.

For God's sake, Gwen, we're in the middle

of Griffith Park.

I don't care.

Stop the car.

I want to get out.

Oh, but you insist.

That's right, Lieutenant.

She's been missing now for almost five hours.

Yes, of course.

I'll let you know if I hear from

her.

Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Carter.

Sergeant Demmer, robbery and homicide.

What's all this about?

Nobody would say.

Well, I'm afraid I've got some bad news

for you.

Your wife was found dead in Griffith Park

just a short time ago, strangled.

Gwen was dead?

Carter, are you sure?

I've got to ask you some questions.

Yes, certainly.

Do you know if she knew anyone who

lives near the park?

No, no one.

Well, no one except Reeve Baker, of course.

This locket was found around your wife's neck.

It is hers, isn't it?

And the picture inside?

My God, it's Reeve.

What about this gold button?

It was found clutched in your wife's hand.

Do you know if Reeve Baker has a

jacket with buttons like this?

You'd have to ask him, but I'm almost

sure he has.

Surely you don't think he killed Gwen?

Well, if we didn't, we wouldn't have him

locked up downtown.

These strands of hair were found on your

wife's body.

If they match Reeve Baker's, he's done.

I'm sorry about your wife, Mr. Carter.

We'll be in touch.

I'll be away for a while, but if

you leave a message after the tone, I'll

try to get back to you.

Reeve, this is Terrence.

Let me know if there's anything I can

do.

Anything at all.

Thank

you.