All language subtitles for Hol Story (195)

A deserted
motion picture studio,

a shot, and a corpse,

the year 1929.

Little did I realize
21 years later,

this unsolved murder

would become part of my life.

Oh, oh, before I forget,
that's me Mitch Davis.

I'm an agent and that's my son.

Everything was progressing
normally that morning

and I was happy as a lark
as I drove to the airport

to pick up Larry O'Brien.

This was his first trip
to California

after a very successful
picture making career

in New York.

Larry and I
went to school together

and after graduation
we went our separate ways,

but eventually we both wound up
in the picture business,

Larry as a producer

and me an agent

for movie talent.

As I waited for Larry,
I couldn't help but think

how successful a producer
he had become.

But that was no surprise to me.

Lawrence O'Brien
was already a success

at the age of 17,

when we did Romeo and Juliet
together

as a Civil War play
in high school.

He played Romeo

and I married Juliet.

Larry, my boy,

nice to see you, how are you?

Fine, Mitch.
How are you?

Look at that tan,
how do you do it?

Sunlamp.

How's my Juliet
and your children?

Oh, great, great, Larry.

California is a great
place for kids.

What made you decide
to finally come?

Sam Collyer wants me
to make a picture out here.

Yeah, well I,
kind of, thought so.

Sam financing your pictures,

Sam likes it out here
in California,

you make pictures in California.

Everybody's happy including me.

I'm glad we're together,
Mitch, just like old times.

Oh, it's a pleasure.

I got everything all set up.

I got you a house,

I got you a small
motion picture studio,

now what do you want
to see first?

First, where I work,
then where I live.

Let's see the studio.

The place
I had in mind for Larry

was an old motion picture
studio over on La Brea,

which had been closed for years.

In the old days,
they had made some

of the real big pictures there.

They only made
silent pictures here.

The first ones
and the best ones,

ever since 1915, Mr. O'Brien,

Weather Street
has been everything,

from Klondike Ghost
to the Canal in Venice,

it's been China Town,
Park Avenue,

and the Barbary Coast.

Do you see that corner there?

Well, that's where Lee
surrendered to Grant,

Custer made his last stand

right in the middle
of that square.

Now if you follow me
right through here.

What's this, Mr. Miller?

Oh, that was the great
silent picture director,

Franklin Ferrara.

You remember, he was murdered.

I think I do.

He was killed right on this lot,

down there in that bungalow.

Would you like to see it?

Some other time, Mr. Miller.
- Oh, why don't we...

let's take a look at it.

Used to be the time
I take a hundred...

maybe a hundred and fifty people

through this bungalow every day.

All of them waiting
to see the place

where Mr. Ferrara was killed,

all of them asking
the same question,

who did it?

Probably a burned-out bulb,

it might not even be
connected up.

I don't think anyone's
been here for years.

This is where
they found the body,

January 5th, 1929.

1929, that's the year

we started in high school.

Yeah, that's the year my father

finished on Wall Street.

Mr. Miller,
they never found out

who killed Ferrara, huh?

No,
too many people involved,

they tried to pin it
on all of them.

To this day, no one knows

who really did it.

Someone knows.

Yeah, who?

Whoever did it.

Hey, Mitch, look at this,
an old player piano,

just like a nickelodeon.

I haven't seen one in years.

Put another nickel in.

Mitch, do you remember
the old Atlantic Movie Theater

on 116th Street,

they had one of these.

Man, you're really going back.

Hey, do you remember
Tom Mix in Texas Badman?

Sure, I remember,
and I remember this music.

They played it
with a picture called,

something about
the Sahara Desert,

there were tents and sheiks

and beautiful girls,
wild horses.

I'll bet that
was Sands of Sahara.

That's right.
- Directed by Franklin Ferrara.

You don't see pictures,
like, that anymore.

Yes, you do, pop,
every night on television.

That was Thea Brent,

one of the original vamps.

She was in the Songs of Gods,

one of Ferrara's greatest.

Hey, here's a picture
of Valentino.

Oh yes,

he was a great friend
of Ferrara's.

Who's this heartthrob,

haven't I seen him around?

That's Roland Paul,

he drove the flappers wild.

You may have seen him around,

he's doing small parts now.

Handsome man.

Yeah.

He was involved
in the Ferrara case too,

it's a pity,

the scandal ruined him.

Some people thought he did it,

some people still think so.

Do people still remember it?

Oh I guess not,

except maybe a few old timers

like myself.

Beautiful.

That was Amanda Rousseau

in 1925.

I'll sign her up
right now, in 1950.

She's not around anymore.

She was involved
in the case too.

Ferrara was quite a guy, huh?

The best,
he could do anything.

He'd lived hard and worked hard.

Mr. O'Brien,

I could talk about him
for hours.

You know, Mitch,
there's a good story here.

I agree with you, Larry,
and that's where

we should leave it, right here.

But he didn't leave it there,

he had walked in in an old hunk

of Hollywood history
and already,

you could almost hear
the cameras grinding

in his head.

That evening we had dinner
at my house

but part of him
was still back there

in that old bungalow.

After dinner, he wooed
his old high school Juliet

for the benefit
of the kids and me,

they were still doing
Shakespeare

in the Civil War, oh brother.

Hey, bravo.

That was great.
Bravo, bravo,

bravo, bravo.

Encore, encore.

Now children,

up to bed both of you.

You were really very good,
Mr. O'Brien.

I bet you say that
to all your daddy's clients.

Yes I do, how did you know?

I know your daddy.

Come on, clear.
- Do you make

a lot of money, Mr. O'Brien?

Jimmy, come on.

You know something, Larry,

I don't know
what's with that kid.

Right now he's got more money
in the bank than I have.

You're a pretty
lucky boy, Mitch,

they are wonderful kids.

Juliet gets prettier every day,

and what was her name
before we did the school play?

You know something,
I don't remember.

I've never called her
anything but Juliet.

Oh, let me get
you a brandy, Larry.

Sure, Mitch.

You know, it was wonderful
to talk to that old man

this morning.
- Yeah.

What's the decision
on the studio?

I like it. I'm gonna take
a lease on it.

It's fantastic about that
Ferrara fellow.

Oh sure, Hollywood's
full of stories like that.

Someday somebody's gonna
make a picture about him.

Yes, but nobody in their
right mind would make it,

it's too dusty.

Backstage stories are okay,

back camera stories
are absolutely no good.

I don't agree with you, Mitch,

there's a great story connected

with Franklin Ferrara,

the colorful days
of silent pictures is

a wonderful background.
- Now look, Larry,

don't go off the deep end

in your first picture out here.

Stay out of the quicksand,
do a Western

but make it the best Western
it was ever done.

Look, we'll leave it up
to Juliet,

level-head,
sit down, darling,

knows all the answers,

good average audience.

Can't I have a drink?
- Yes, later, darling.

Now first I want
an honest answer from you.

Here's a story.

An old silent picture
director was murdered

and to this day
no one knows who did it,

do his life story
and all the characters

that surround him,
lots of old timers

sticky, nostalgic,
stuff about the '20s,

about the days
of silent pictures.

Now, give Larry and me
an honest answer,

what do you think about it
for a picture?

I like it.

Well, I didn't see
Larry for a few days after that

but it wasn't hard to figure out

what he was doing.

He was doing Los Angeles

from the Franklin Ferrara
point of view.

First, he went
to the newspaper morgue

at the Los Angeles Times,

then he went
to the police department

and looked through the old
files they had on the case

and did a lot of talking.

He ran all of the Franklin
Ferrara pictures

he could get a hold of,
some of the most successful

silent pictures of the time.

Among them,
The Phantom of the Opera,

starring Lon Chaney.

Ferrara's old house
in the Hollywood Hills

was next on the list.

It had been vacant for years

and the statues wouldn't talk.

He spent an afternoon
at the motion picture home,

and the old timers
who had known Ferrara

did nothing but talk.

The last stop on the line
was down the coast

in San Juan Capistrano,

the famous
old California Mission.

One of the oldest
California families,

the Ferraras.

The first ones sailed
into San Diego Bay

with the Cabriol.

I remember old Pedro Ferrara.

He was a silversmith,
a real artist,

and his daughter Isobel.

She was a beauty.

She became a Carmelite nun.

And there was also two sons.

The youngest went abroad
a few years ago

and I understand he died there.

The other one
was Franklin Ferrara,

the famous movie director.

Uh-hmm.
- He had a very tragic end.

I suppose you know about that?

Yes, I know about it.

It's a fine piece of work.

I think the father
cut that himself.

It's the patron saint
of the family.

You seem to be very interested
in the Ferrara family.

You writing a book
about California?

Not exactly, no.

Aren't they famous
the Swallows of Capistrano?

No, sparrows.

Our swallows aren't due
for several months yet.

March 19th, to be exact.

It's quite a sight.

You ought to come back
and see it.

Maybe I will.

You never know.

There was nothing
for me to do

while Larry went around

for the full circle but wait.

So I waited until O'Brien
got good and ready.

Mr. O'Brien
is on his way in.

He was good and ready.

Larry, my boy.

Hi, Mitch.

Where have you been?

Well, I've been seeing
some interesting places

and some interesting people.

Now I'm gonna do
an interesting story.

The one I told you not to do?

- That's the one.
- Well, even though

I haven't been exactly
for the project,

I haven't been dogging it.

Now first you need some writers.

Here's, uh, my list.

Any one of them will give you

- a top-notch script.
- Well, thank you, Mitch.

I've already got a writer.

- One of, uh, my clients?
- I don't know.

His name's Vincent St. Clair.

Never heard of him.

What are his credits?

Well, he wrote most
of Franklin Ferrara's pictures.

Say, he's a real old-timer.

- You think you can find him?
- Oh, sure, sure.

Uh, honey,

get me the Screenwriters Guild.

Yes, sir.

The search
for Vincent St. Clair

led Larry to a foggy,
desolate section of Zuma Beach,

miles beyond
the Malibu Movie Colony.

The Screenwriters Guild
had no record of St. Clair

for the past 18 years

but that didn't stop Larry.

He played hounds and hares

over a trail of bad checks,

unpaid bills,
and no forwarding addresses,

until he finally
reached the house

where St. Clair lived.

You really couldn't
call it a house.

It was more of a lean to,

but then again,
it wasn't exactly

a lean to either.

It was more of a cave-in.

Do you always do that
when you come

into a strange house?

Oh, I'm sorry.

I didn't know anyone was here.

Are you Vincent St. Clair,
the writer?

I'm Vincent St. Clair. I have some
doubt about the latter.

- Who are you here, what do you want?
- My name's O'Brien.

- That's fair enough.
- I'm a producer.

Go on.

You wrote a couple of pictures

for Franklin Ferrara.

I'm gonna do the story
of his life.

- I want you to work for me.
- Well, it's very good of you

but I'm afraid I won't be able
to work your picture

- into my schedule.
- Oh, why not?

Well, you see, uh,
I'm doing a play,

yes, because I've been
writing it now

for 11 years.

You got your foot
on my second act.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Maybe a few months off

would give you a fresh approach.

You can save the whimsy.

Now why pick on me?

Well, I saw your old pictures.

I like them.

But why a picture
about Franklin Ferrara,

that extremely old hat?

The old hat will be blocked
and cleaned.

Do you wanna work?

What's your proposition?

What was your last salary?

$7,500 a picture.

When was that?

1929.

Okay. It's a deal.

I'll pay you the same salary.

When can you start?

Don't rush me.

Uh, let's have a drink.

Here you are.

Oh, excuse me.

Amanda Rousseau.

That's right. Yes.

I saw her in a couple
of pictures you wrote.

What happened to her?

What happened to all of us?

Well, here's to you, O'Brien.

I think you're absolutely crazy

but I like the sound
of your checkbook.

To the Ferrara story.

We'll start Monday morning
and let's keep it quiet.

Okay.

This is Hollywood Exclusive.

It has just been confirmed
that Larry O'Brien

is going to make
the Franklin Ferrara story,

his first Hollywood picture.

This should be interesting
if not a little dangerous.

I've got the real inside
on this Ferrara story

- if you're interested.
- I heard O'Brien's got

some new evidence
and he's gonna spill it

- in the picture.
- Well, everybody knows

- who the murderer was.
- Yeah?

- Who?
- Who?

Well, I've got to get back
to the set.

I'm in the first shot.

Not a bad idea
doing the Ferrara picture.

You telling me,
I was gonna do it myself

- as a musical.
- Personally,

if they spent over
a million dollars on it,

they're crazy.

Yes?

Francis X. Bushman.

Hello, John.

Say, where you've been hiding?

Well, I've been right...

oh, you're kidding, aren't you?

My, it's been a long time.

Let's see.

The last time
you were on this lot

was to star in Mr. Ferrara's

first picture
with Beverly Bayne.

That's right.
Boy, what a memory.

Say, John, I'm due over
at the casting office.

Oh, right this way.

Well, John, let's do...

Well, if there is Betty Blythe

and Bill Farnum.

- John.
- Hello, Betty.

- Oh, thank you, my dear.
- Hello, Francis. How are you?

- Hello, Bill.
- John, glad to see you.

It's the old days,
the good old days

have come back to Hollywood.

- Am I intruding?
- Helen Gibson.

Well, you're all
in Mr. O'Brien's picture?

- That's right, John.
- You said it, John.

Of course, it wouldn't be
the Ferrara story

if all you people
weren't in it.

- Oh, listen to him.
- Oh, you're a flatterer.

I don't believe a word

but still I'd like to hear it.

Shall we go over here?

Let's go back to the night
of the murder.

Would you read the notes
from there, Mary?

On the night of January
the 5th, 1929,

Franklin Ferrara had dinner

in his bungalow alone.

It was ascertained that during
the evening,

Ferrara had two visitors,

Amanda Rousseau and Roland Paul,

and possibly a visit
from a man named Charles Rodale,

his personal secretary
who had been dismissed

a few days previously.

Many believed that
Rodale was actually

a younger brother of Ferrara's.

Rodale disappeared that week

and has never been found.

Ferrara was found next morning

fatally shot on the floor of...

right here, I guess.

This was how they found him.

I was up at Arrowhead
working on a script.

I had a date here
that morning

for a story conference.

When I got here, this room
was swarming with people,

actors, producers, directors,

uh, Amanda Rousseau,

everybody you could think of.

Go on, Mary.

The murder weapon
was never found

and neither was the bullet
that killed Ferrara.

It was first believed

that the motive
for the murder was robbery

because of some missing items

but the conclusion drawn
by the police.

Someone mention
the police?

May I help you?

Could be.

I'm Lt. Lennox.

- Yes, lieutenant?
- We read about your idea

to do the Ferrara story.

So I just thought
I'd drop around.

May I ask why?

Oh, I don't know.

Maybe comic relief, you know,

the blundering flatfoot.

I was under the impression

that as far as the police
department was concerned,

the Ferrara case was closed.

An unsolved murder case
is never closed,

Mr. O'Brien.

What gave you the idea
to do this story?

I produce motion pictures.

I produce motion pictures
about interesting subjects.

This story should make
an interesting motion picture.

Okay. But in case you run

into interesting trouble,

just call the department.

Ask for Lennox, Bud Lennox.

Larry?

Sam.

You got out of your mind?

I thought you were
in Mexico City?

I was in Mexico City
then I got your telegram.

Now I'm here.

Who's this?

This is Sam Collyer, my partner.

Lt. Lennox.

Lieutenant?

- Police department.
- Oh, fine.

- Hello, Sam.
- Hello.

What are you doing here,
St. Clair?

I'm writing the Ferrara picture
for O'Brien.

Larry, do you suppose
we could have

a few minutes alone?

Oh, sure, Sam.

Gentlemen, would you mind?

- Mary.
- Excuse me.

You are not going
to make this picture.

- What do you mean?
- I'll tell you what I mean.

We'll take it from the top.
First of all, you lease

this old creep joint of a studio

without letting me
know anything about it,

then you find a story as
old and just tired as the...

as the joker
that was killed here.

I come back and find
the police on your tail,

the screenplay's being written
by an old geek who has been...

who has been floating around
in a Bourbon bottle for years.

Not with my money.

Now take it easy, Sam.

I've got the golden hunch
on this story.

Have some confidence in me.

Oh, Larry.
What's the matter with you?

You do a picture about
the Air Force,

you have to jump
with the paratroopers.

The other one you spend
four weeks in the flop house.

Now you wanna be a private eye.

Larry, stop playing games.
This is a business.

I'm glad you mentioned
that word, business, Sam.

You haven't done badly have you?

Now I'm not trying to be
a private eye

but once I get into something,
I like to do it right.

I'm sorry, Larry.
My mind's made up.

If you insist
on going ahead with this...

Now Sam.

Now will you listen to me?

This story is hot

and if we don't make
this picture,

- someone else will.
- I'm sorry.

If you make this picture,
you'll do it without me.

Just like that?

Just like that.

All right, Sam.

It won't be with you.

I guess there's
not much more to say.

I suppose not except
I'm gonna miss you, Sam,

and I'm very sorry.

Yeah.

Maybe it was that bungalow.

From the minute Larry
first walked into it,

it started to play tricks
with his imagination.

He couldn't stay away from it.

That night he was still there.

All he could think about
was the Ferrara story.

How to find
the missing pieces,

how to put them together.

Hey, pop.

You see anybody go by?

Uh, how's that?

Never mind.
Go back to sleep.

Police department?
Lt. Lennox, please.

Oh.

Well when he comes in,
will you tell him

to call Lawrence O'Brien.

The number is Granite-1466.

Yes, thank you.

You're Lawrence O'Brien.

I'm Sally Rousseau.

Amanda Rousseau's daughter.

I thought you and your mother
lived in the East?

We do. I came out here
to ask you to drop

- the Ferrara picture.
- Why should I?

Because it's not just
another picture.

It has to do with real people.

Well, I don't intend
to use anybody's name

except Franklin Ferrara's.

But everyone will know
who you're talking about

without mentioning names.

These pictures of my mother
appeared in the papers

only a few days ago.

That's what the mere
announcement

of your film has done.

I don't intend to see her drag
through a rehash

of a 20-year old scandal.

She's happily married
and her past life

in Hollywood is dead and buried.

I understand your concern
but why don't you look

at it this way.

A picture telling the true story

will clear the innocent
once and for all.

You will serve
the innocent better

by not making the picture.

That's very good advice.

Do you mind if I pay
no attention to it?

Hello? Sam.

Larry,
I'm sorry about this afternoon.

I was upset about a lot
of things, but...

well, you were right
about the picture

and I was wrong.

I've been talking
to a few of the boys

who oughta know,
they loved it,

and if we don't do
the picture somebody else will,

so look... well, let's forget

about this afternoon, huh?

We're still in business,
count me in.

You were never out, Sam.

Come down to the studio
tomorrow morning.

There's some things
I want to talk to you about.

Yeah.

Goodbye.

The Christmas parade
passing in front

of the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel

couldn't have been nearly
as interesting to Larry

as the face of Roland Paul,

another member of the old cast

had made his entrance.

This gave O'Brien
a very good reason

for having breakfast at
the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel

the next morning.

Is there anything else, sir?

No, thanks.

Well, Ms. Rousseau,
won't you sit down?

Please.

Do you always have
breakfast here?

No. This is the first time.

Isn't it amazing that
we ran into each other?

Amazing.

Would you like to order, miss?

Orange juice, black coffee,
and Melba toast.

Thank you.

So that's how you do it.

How I do what, Mr. O'Brien?

Keep in shape.

You were pretty fast
in getting away last night.

It was hardly a social call.

My logic made no impression
on you, so I left.

Of course you didn't know
that someone

had just taken a shot at me.

No, I didn't.

Is that the reason you're here,
Mr. O'Brien,

to tell me you've changed
your mind

and you're not going to do
the picture?

I like the way you keep trying.

I don't care to see
a lot of innocent people

dragged through the mud.

You're repeating yourself.

Then let me add that
before it's over,

you won't be very clean either.

Suppose my picture
tells the truth.

How can it?

Do you know who killed
Franklin Ferrara?

And why do you ask that?

Stop playing games, Mr. O'Brien.

Without knowing the murderer,
you don't have a story.

You're right.

In order to make the picture,
I need the answer

to who killed Ferrara,
and I think I can find it,

but I'll need your help.

Your mother must have told you
a lot about this case.

They didn't solve it then

and you're not gonna
solve it now.

I don't give up that easily.

That's entirely up to you,
Mr. O'Brien,

but remember,

the next shot at you
might not miss.

I'm sorry, all calls
go through the casting office.

Sam Collyer and Mitch Davis
are in your office.

It was a case of do or die, see,

so I took the seven
and I swung the club,

died.

- Sorry I'm late, fellas.
- All right.

That's all right Larry,
big night?

Interesting.

I had a feeling when
you called me this morning

that something was wrong.

You had the right feeling,
Mitch.

- Yes, sir?
- Tell St. Clair

- to come into my office.
- Oh.

I think he better be here too.

Do we have to have
that character around?

- He gives me the creeps.
- What's wrong with him?

I just signed him
up as a writer.

He can't write, that's all.

- Now you tell me.
- I don't go along with that, Sam.

I saw a couple of pictures
he wrote.

The titles you mean, before 1929,

did you happen to see that
first talkie he did?

I didn't know he wrote one.

You ought to run it some time.

You, uh, sent for me?

How are you, Vince?

They treating you all right?

- Are you happy?
- I'm fine, thank you.

They're treating me all right.

Yes, I'm happy.

Vince, you know Sam Collyer.

A lot of water has
passed under the bridge,

hasn't it, Vincent?

Where have you been hiding?

I haven't been hiding, Sam.

I've been out of work
for 20 years.

Sam, that's something
I can't understand.

A good writer like Vince...

That shouldn't be difficult
to understand,

Sam could explain it
if he wanted to.

Couldn't you, Sam?

You know, that's the way it goes
in this town, Vinny,

that's the way it goes.

Nice to see you back.

Thank you.

You look as though
you've hardly been away.

As a matter of fact you look
just the same as you did

that last time
we had dinner together...

up at Ferrara's house.

I haven't got much time, Larry,
what's on your mind?

Well, I'll give it
to you straight.

Last night in the bungalow

somebody took a shot at me.

With a gun?

It wasn't a slingshot.

Well, this is nothing
to joke about,

you know what this means?

Somebody doesn't want him
to make the picture.

- You speak to the police?
- Not yet.

I told you in the first place
to leave it alone,

I begged him, I said,

- "Larry make a Western...
- Look, Larry.

...you can't go wrong
with a Western.

- Make a Western."
- Mitch, will you shut up?

What are you gonna do?

I'm going on with the picture,

if any of you
would like to take off

I'll not only understand,
I'll give you the car fare.

This is my first job
in almost 20 years,

no one's going to scare me
out of it.

Whatever you wanna do
is all right with me,

I'll back you up all the way.

Who'd wanna shoot an agent?

Okay. So now we know
where we stand or fall.

All right, Larry,

just watch out for yourself.

- Don't worry, Mitch.
- Sam, I wanna see you a second.

Hmm? Oh, sure.

I didn't know
you knew Ferrara personally.

I was his business manager.

- Oh.
- Funny, I didn't tell you.

I guess I thought you knew.

No. No, I didn't.

But I gotta run, I'll uh...

Keep in touch, huh?

Yeah, Sam. Sure.

Was your nickel O'Brien,

why'd you call me last night?

Oh, that. Nothing important,

we might need a technical
adviser on the picture

- and I thought of you.
- Well, thanks.

But are you sure I'm qualified?

Not completely, no.

Well, why don't you try me out?

For instance

you might ask me
the caliber of that bullet

that missed you last night.

What about it?

Thirty-two caliber.

Fired from a distance
of about thirty feet,

and judging from where
it hit that picture

it couldn't have missed your head
by more than two inches.

Anything else?

Yeah.

That chick you had
breakfast with this morning

at the Hollywood Roosevelt
did a very strange thing

after she left you.

She took a taxi
to the Las Palmas apartments

on North Sycamore

and visited an apartment
on the second floor rear,

number 205.

How do you know all this?

That's what they pay me for,

to know all this.

And who do you think
she visited in apartment 205?

Roland Paul.

Do you wanna go on playing games

or shall we stop?

Well, let's keep on playing.

Have you any idea
who might have fired

that shot at you last night?

Hmm, I have an idea.

Me too.

Let's get together sometime
and compare ideas.

Mary, will you send
a couple of dozen roses

to Ms. Sally Rousseau
at the Hollywood Roosevelt.

- Yes sir.
- With this message.

Will you have dinner
with me tonight?

I have a pleasant
surprise for you,

Larry O'Brien.

What shall I do?

I think you should go.

How do you like it?

I don't know, really.

It's so strange seeing mother
on the screen.

This is the first time.

She's very beautiful.

Roland Paul was pretty handsome
in those days too.

I think he still is.

I'm sure you do.

How old did you say he was?

I didn't say.

It's that fictional
mind of yours,

hearing things.

Maybe the police have
fictional minds too,

or is it a twin brother
that you've been seeing?

Oh, he was an old friend
of my mother's,

- she asked me to look him up.
- Oh, real sentimental, huh?

Yes. Genuine emotion sentiment.

Look it up in the dictionary,

I doubt if you'll find it
in one of your scripts.

Excuse me, but I have
a peculiar aversion

to people who take
pot shots at me.

How ridiculous.
Roland Paul is a kind decent man

who never harmed anybody.

What was he doing here
last night?

- Why don't you ask him?
- I intend to.

You'll do no such thing.

That's two people
you're trying to protect.

I can understand
about your mother

but why Roland Paul?

He suffered just as much
as my mother did, even more.

He was hurt terribly.

I can't tell you anymore.

Don't ask me, please.

I'm sorry.

Let's go have a drink.

I can use one.

Hello? Yeah?

Mr. O'Brien?
Just a minute, please.

Mr. O'Brien, telephone call
for you in the booth.

Well, thank you.
Excuse me.

Hello?

- Mr. O'Brien?
- Yes.

My name is Charles Rodale,

mean anything to you?

Rodale?

You were Franklin
Ferrara's secretary.

That's right.

And not a very good one at that.

From what I heard
you stole some money

from him and disappeared.

I'm going to do the same
with you and disappear.

Only I won't steal it,
you're going to give it to me.

How would you like it
in large or small bills?

Cut the comedy, O'Brien,

I can break
the Ferrara case wide open.

I don't think I'm gonna
buy anything from you, Rodale.

How you fixed for brothers,

Ferrara has one.

Oh, there's a lot
of doubt about that.

Rumor has it he died in China,

if there was a brother.

Fact has it
that he didn't die in China

and there was a brother,

still is, very much alive,

very much kicking.

Well, you may have
something there,

come around to the studio tomorrow.

That's no good,
you meet me tonight.

I'm busy tonight.

We'll do it my way
or not at all.

I think you'd better
listen to me, O'Brien.

I'm sorry I kept you waiting.

Larry, who's that?

St. Clair.

St. Clair.

Vincent St. Clair,

your mother must have
spoken about him.

He wrote many of her pictures.

Oh, yes, mother
did talk about him.

What a sad face he has.

He'll brighten up on Wednesday,

that's the day he gets paid.

Are you really
as hard as you sound?

Are you?

From Hollywood to Ocean Park

is 10 miles,

pretty far to go
just for a drink.

But after talking
to Charles Rodale,

Larry's plans
were changed considerably.

Distance didn't mean a thing

when you figure Larry
was on his way

to meet a man

who'd been missing 22 years.

Things were kind of quiet
on the pier that night,

it was the offseason.

But inside Jacks things

were really jumping like...

well, sort of like the way

O'Brien's nerves were jumping.

Madison 7911.

That's right.

I'm gonna see a man
named Charles Rodale

at the Ajax Hotel
a few blocks up.

If I'm not back
in a half an hour,

call this number,

ask for Bud Lennox.

Tell him where to look for me,

and take my car, and go home.

Here's the parking ticket.

You sure you know
what you're doing?

I'll know better
in half an hour.

207,

which way?

Larry?

Sally.

What happened?
Are you all right?

Yeah, I'm all right.

Must be Charles Rodale.

I saw him today,
Larry, somewhere.

I know it.

Where?

I don't know, somewhere.

Try to remember.
At the studio?

The hotel?
Roland Paul's apartment?

No, I can't seem to remember.

Maybe I'm just dreaming it up.

Did you call Lennox?

Yes, but he wasn't there.

They'll get in touch with him.

Well then, you better go.

- Do you have the car?
- No, I'll walk. Larry...

Look, I don't wanna
get you involved.

You go out the back entrance,
take a taxi

and I'll see you tomorrow.

Which one is it?

This one right here.

Call homicide in Santa Monica,

tell them to send a team.

Okay, where's the phone?

Down the hall.

- Who is he?
- Never saw him before.

- He registered, didn't he?
- I never look up.

- Very funny.
- You'd be surprised

how much time I save
not going to court.

Can I go back downstairs now?

Yeah.

His name's Charles Rodale.

He was Franklin Ferrara's
secretary.

Who killed him, Mr. O'Brien?

Well, how will I know?

I walked in here,
the lights were out,

somebody slugged me,
and when I came to...

For a man with a nice soft job,

you sure take a lot
of chances.

Now before I ask you why
you walked into this room,

who was that girl
who called the department?

Oh, I use a private
telephone service.

It was the operator.

If I didn't reach her
at a certain time

she was to call you.

I see.

This gentleman seems
to have made an observation.

What did you say your name was?

Sylvester.

201.

- Uh-oh.
- Never mind the uh-oh,

just tell the lieutenant
what you saw.

We", like I was telling
this man here,

about an hour and a half ago,

I heard the cat
knocking at the door.

The cat?

Nicholas, the hotel cat.

He always comes at that time,

we have a drink together.

All right. So the cat
was knocking at your door?

Well, I went to the door
and let him in

and just then a man
walked down the hall,

and Nicholas got scared

and jumped right
in front of him.

You know what the man did?

He kicked Nicholas.

He kicked him
right out of his way.

Then what happened?

Well, he ran away.

The man?

Nicholas.

Let's stick with the man.

Oh, well, he knocked
on this door right here

- and then walked right in.
- What did he look like?

Well, it was kind of dark,
I couldn't really tell.

I know he wasn't tall

and he wasn't short.

He was kind of...

oh, I don't know.
I didn't see him too good.

Did you hear the shot?

Oh, I heard the shot all right.

Great. Shooting gallery
next door

but this guy heard the shot.

It's getting better though.

This is the first killing
we've had this year.

Well, goodbye.

All right, Mr. O'Brien,

let's fade in on this evening.

What brought on this
clandestine kaffeeklatsch?

Well, just as I was
leaving the studio

I got a phone call

from him I imagine.

He said his name was Rodale,

and that he had some
vital information

about the...
Ferrara story.

So I made a date
to meet him here.

That's all?

That's all.

We'll talk some more
about it tomorrow.

You better leave.

Oh uh...

I found this on the floor.

Nice of you to cooperate.

I thought you were going home?

I was worried about you.

- Are you all right?
- Yeah.

Nice of you to wait for me,
Sally.

It was nice of you
to get me out of a jam

that you got me into.

The question is,
how long can I keep you out?

With a dead man on your hands,

you're in pretty deep now.

Yeah. It's gonna get deeper.

Wanna help?

The answer is still no.

It's okay, Dan.

Oh, Bill.

Where's Roland Paul?

He's over there
with the makeup man.

Thanks.

You can speak to him
in one of the dressing rooms

if you care to, Mr. O'Brien.

Oh, don't bother.
Any quiet corner will do.

How long does he have
on the picture?

Oh, it's just a bit,
he'll be through today.

- Oh, Mr. Paul...
- Yeah?

This is Mr. Lawrence O'Brien,

he'd like to speak to you
for a few minutes.

- Very well.
- Thank you, Bill.

Shall we sit down?

Yes.

I'd like to ask you
a few questions, Mr. Paul.

If it has anything to do
with the Ferrara case,

I answered all the questions
22 years ago.

There's nothing I can add now.

Ah, but there is.

I'm not as much
interested in Ferrara

as I am in a man
named Charles Rodale.

You saw him yesterday.

I see no reason to deny it.

He visited you
at your apartment.

That's right.

May I ask what the reason
was for this visit?

The reason was you.

Why did he come to see you?

He considered me an old friend.

I didn't share
his consideration.

I told him where he can get
in touch with you.

I imagine he did.

I was probably
the next to the last person

to speak to him.

- The next to the last?
- Mmm.

The last person to speak
to him killed him.

He was murdered last night.

Who killed him?

Why?

I didn't have any
affection for Rodale

but who would want to kill him?

Probably the same person
who killed Ferrara,

if Rodale knew anything.

That's possible.

What do you think
of the theory that

Rodale was Ferrara's brother?

I doubt that very much.

Roland Paul, on the set, please.

If you'll excuse me,
Mr. O'Brien.

- Yes.
- Mr. Paul?

Yes?

The chief would like
to talk to you

about the murder
of Charles Rodale.

I've just been talking
to Mr. O'Brien

about that very same subject.

Well, the chief's questions

will be a little more official.

Mr. Paul, please,
we're waiting for you.

Go ahead.

Thank you.
I won't be long.

Matter of fact, my part's
finished after this shot.

What's this
all about, Lennox?

It's a wrap-up.

Rodale came to town,

he saw Roland Paul.

Rodale was out
to shake down everybody,

you too.

He had an argument with Paul,

the neighbors verified.

Paul went to see Rodale

and killed him.

Sylvester identified him.

Sylvester?
The guy with the cat?

He couldn't identify
himself in a mirror.

I don't know why
I bother to explain

all this to you
but here goes.

In going over
Roland Paul's apartment,

we hit the jackpot.

We found out that at the time
Ferrara was killed,

Roland Paul was secretly married

to Amanda Rousseau.

Oh, and Paul is Sally's father?

That's right.

He had the perfect motive
to kill Ferrara.

Irate husband department.

And how does this tie in
with Rodale?

Well, Rodale evidently
had enough information

to apply some pressure
so Paul killed him too.

We get cases like this
every day,

nothing to it.

All ready, Joel.

- Hello, Larry.
- Hello, Joel.

This is Lt. Lennox,
Joel McCrea.

How do you do?

How's the Ferrara story coming?

Fine, Joel, fine.

Good. Excuse me.

All right.
Let's try one.

All right.
Here we go.

Settle down, everybody.

Roll him, Andy.

Action.

Is it serious, doctor?

It's hard to tell right now.

We're doing all we can.

However, it's advis...

Cut.

Sorry, Joel. Sorry, boy.

Relax, Roland.
Take it easy,

- you're pretty tense.
- Sure.

All right. Once again.

All right.

Roll him, Andy.

Action.

Is it serious, doctor?

It's, uh, hard to tell right now.

We're doing all we can.

However, it's advisable
to transfer the patient

- to a hospital.
- A hospital?

You can be sure she'll be
very well taken care of.

I'll attend to that personally.

Cut. All right, for you?

Fine for me.

- Credit.
- All right,

one o'clock for lunch.

All right, boys, let's
get that back thing out of there.

Get ready for the first setup
right after lunch.

All right, forward.

Back it off now.

- Okay. Yeah.
- That's all right.

Bring it around
over to the left.

All right. Quiet, folks.

- Where is he?
- Over there.

Would you do me a favor, Mr. O'Brien?

I was calling Miss Rousseau.

She isn't in.

We were to meet
at LaRue's for lunch.

I'm afraid I won't
be able to make it.

I'll take care of it.

Thanks.

Let's go.

And so I told him,
"Don't pick up my option."

I wanna go back east
and watch the seasons change.

Who needs seasons?

Yes, sir.

That's Mr. Collyer's car,
isn't it?

Yes, sir. Mr. Collyer's
inside having lunch.

Hello, Sally.

How nice to meet you

and accidentally for a change.

I'm sorry I disillusioned you.

But I knew you were here.

Roland Paul sends his apologies.

He can't have lunch with you.

Why not?

The police seem to think
he had something to do with...

Rodale's death.

Oh, no.

No, that's impossible.

No thanks.
We'll order lunch later.

Yes, sir.

Sally,

the police know that
Roland Paul is your father.

- How did they find out?
- I don't know.

What amazes me is that
it was kept a secret for so long

and why a secret
in the first place?

The public had strange ideas
in the silent days.

They preferred their stars
unmarried.

And before the marriage
became known,

your mother fell in love
with Franklin Ferrara.

I suppose that's true.

Sally,

the police believe
they have found the perfect motive

to accuse your father
for killing Ferrara.

They're wrong, they're wrong,

they'll never be able
to prove it.

I hope not.

Can't you help him?

I can try, Sally.

So far, my batting average
has been a big fat nothing.

But I'll keep swinging,
I promise you.

Excuse me, sir,

Mr. Collyer over there
wants to know

if you'd like to join him
for lunch.

Oh. Well thank Mr. Collyer

and tell him
I'll take a rain check on it.

Yes, sir.

Is that man's name Sam Collyer?

That's right.
I didn't know you knew Sam.

I don't.

I remember hearing
his name though.

He was pretty close
to Ferrara, wasn't he?

Yes, he's pretty close
to me too.

He's a good friend, Sam is,

- and a good businessman.
- You're lucky.

He's the kind who'll
always land on his feet.

Sally, do you remember
what you did

with the parking ticket
I gave you last night?

Well, I...
I gave it to the attendant

when I went back to the car.

Did it look anything like this?

Yes, that's it.

How did you get it?

No, that's not it.

You know something Sally?

I may have got my first hit
in this league.

Not bad, Larry.
Not bad at all.

What do you mean not bad?

It's an exact duplicate
of this bungalow

right down to the furniture.
- Uh-hmm.

It's being set up
on stage two right now.

Good. I'm glad to hear it.

I'm glad to hear that
we're making such progress.

Speaking about progress,

how's the script coming along?

Fine. It's all finished.

All I got to do now
is put in the words.

Just the words?

Yes.

Or this is the fever chart
we have.

The rise and fall
of pressures and emotions.

Aristophanes called it

The Progress of Dithyrambics.

That's the way we did it
in the old days

when movies rarely moved.

Sounds very interesting.

We must talk about it sometime.

I imagine you
read the morning paper.

Oh, yes, indeed.

It always saddens me
to read about the passing

of one of the old classmates.

You don't seem to be
too sad about it.

Well I am.

I am.

I cried all morning.

What you haven't read yet

is that the police have
arrested Roland Paul.

Dear me, the Class of '29's

having a difficult day
for itself.

Charles Rodale gets a bullet
through his skull,

Roland Paul
gets himself arrested.

Now I suppose they'll pick up

Amanda Rousseau,

Sam Collyer,

and a lot of others,

dust off all the old clues,

and then...

and then release everyone
by Monday morning.

Sam Collyer?

Nameless here for evermore.

Oh, I'm sorry. For the moment,
I was colorblind.

I don't get it.

How green was my money men.

After all, Sam Collyer

is the patron of our project.

St. Clair,
sometimes your sense of humor

is as difficult to understand
as your methods of writing.

Sam Collyer is a friend of mine.

You mentioned him in connection
with the Ferrara case.

Well, how does he fit in?

Well, he would fit in
something like this.

First, let me take an arrow.

Don't tell me with arrows.

Tell me with words.

I've uh...
I've said too much already.

Perhaps uh...

Perhaps Amanda Rousseau
could tell you.

If she could talk,
she would say...

uh, you don't mind my giving
the full treatment, do you?

No, go right ahead.

Ham it up a little if you like.

We'll say Amanda,

20 years ago,

to know you was to love you,

Franklin Ferrara, Roland Paul,

Sam Collyer, oh, yes,

yes even the usually cautious Sam

was captivated
by your loveliness.

And we'd also say
Amanda that 20 years ago,

you were the inspiration
of violence.

You might also say Amanda,

that 20 years ago, this music

would've sounded a lot better.

That's a strange note,
all right.

I have noticed it before.

I'll see if I can find
another roll

around here anywhere.

No, that seems to be
the only one there is.

I'll take this

and have Mary scout around
for some replacements.

Is there anything else I can get

to add to your comfort?

No, thank you, you're very kind.

Oh, you don't mind
my living here, do you?

That is until
I can find a place in town.

- Not at all.
- Well, you won't forget

about the music rolls, will you?

I could use a change of mood.

Yes, of course.

I could use some words

in between those arrows.

Unwinding
that old music roll

was like turning
the hands of a clock

back to yesterday.

To a man like O'Brien

with an eye for the details
of a detail,

a slightly larger
perforated hole had suggested

that there was something
behind it all.

There was something
behind it all,

a bullet.

- Hello?
- Scotland Yard calling.

Inspector Lennox
at your service.

How's the rewrite coming?

Oh, just putting the paper
in the typewriter.

Better stick to my script.

It's getting stronger
by the minute.

A, Roland Paul won't talk.

B, he can't account
for his time last night.

C, Charles Rodale
is nobody's brother

much less Franklin
Ferrara's. D...

How about that telephone number
I gave you?

The one I found beside the body?

I was hoping you'd ask me about that.

When I called the number,
what do you think it was?

Now get this,

it was Mitchell's Mortuary.

Mitchell's Mortuary?

Maybe Rodale
had a flash of premonition.

What are you gonna do now?

Well, I think I'll work on
the script a while.

Why? The police is satisfied.

Why don't you relax?

What are you trying to do
to me anyhow?

Lieutenant, I'm out
to make you a sergeant.

Good evening, sir.

We are sorry for your loss.

Oh, thank you.

I was just browsing.

Oh, of course.

You are anticipating
a blessed departure?

No.
Not at this time.

I would like to ask you however,

how long you've
been in business.

Well, barely four years, sir.

Yet already
some of the best people...

Yes, yes, of course.

Do you mind if I use
your telephone?

Oh, certainly.

Uh-uh, this way.

What? Sure it's official.

I told you that before.

This is Lt. Lennox
of the police department.

That's right.

Now quit stalling
and give me the names

of all the people
who've had this number

since 1929.

All right, go ahead.

It was amazing
how many people belonged

to a little old
telephone number.

This one covered everything
from a Chinese restaurant

to a pool hall.

It had belonged
to a fortune teller

and to a girl named Rose Paris.

It was a shoe store
and a WPA office.

In 1932, it was a radio station.

And in 1929,

it had belonged to Sam Collyer.

What's the matter, Larry?
Story got you down?

Take it easy, Everything's
gonna be all right.

- Sam?
- Hmm?

Do you own a gun?

You feel that bad?

Well, you haven't
answered my question.

Of course I own a gun.

Is it a .32 caliber?

No, it's .38.

Is it the only one you have?

It's the only one I have now.

I've had a lot of guns in my...

what are we playing,
cops and robbers?

Did you ever have a .32?

.32?
Probably did.

- Back in 1929?
- Could be.

Sam,

where were you last night?

This is getting
a little silly, isn't it?

It's gonna be even sillier

unless you can tell me
where you were.

Well, if it's absolutely
essential to you,

I drove down to Palm Springs.

You drove to Ocean Park.

I had a parking stub.
Also a telephone number.

Congratulations.

It was your number.

Charles Rodale was trying
to get in touch with you.

The trouble is he did.

That's fine.

A parking ticket,
telephone number,

the state rests.

Why'd you bother to come here?

Why didn't you just go
to the police?

The police would make it tougher

and the setting wouldn't
be as comfortable.

It's darn nice of you.

You want me to sign a confession

on my own stationery?

Why don't you just try
explaining these things away?

Why? To get to the bottom
of the grab bag?

Not quite.

This is the bullet that
killed Franklin Ferrara.

I found it in
the old piano music roll.

Say,

you've really come up
with something.

The old music roll.

You know, the police
have been looking

for this hunk of metal
for over 20 years.

You can forgot about
the rest of it.

This is big.

And now all you need's
the gun that fired it.

Yeah. That's what I thought.

And this is my contribution
to your story.

This is the gun
that killed Ferrara.

Whose gun is it, Sam?

Mine.

All ties up neatly,

there's just one hitch.

I didn't fire the gun.

Now, do you wanna
call the police

or do you wanna hear my version?

Anything you say, Sam.

Now this all goes back

to a little before
your time, Larry.

When movies first
started to talk,

sound was smashing
careers overnight.

I'd been on the go for weeks

trying to salvage
the remains of a few of them.

That night, I decided
to take it easy

and get to bed early
when the phone rang.

I wasn't expecting anybody

but I decided
I'd better answer it.

It was Ferrara.

All I could make out
were a few words.

He was at his bungalow,

wanted me to come there
right away.

Then his voice seemed to choke,

the phone went dead.

Ferrara had sounded so strange.

I decided to take my gun.

I went to the night table drawer

where I always kept it,

the gun wasn't there.

It seemed strange but...

well, I didn't have time
to worry about it.

I was at the studio
in less than 10 minutes.

I thought it best
not to be seen

so I used the side entrance.

I didn't need a key because
somebody had left the gate open.

The bungalow was dark,

I tried to look
through the door,

I couldn't see a thing.

Then I remembered
I had a key to the bungalow

in the glove compartment
of my car.

In the compartment,
I not only found the key,

I also found my gun.

I hadn't the slightest idea
how it had gotten there.

And then I pushed it
into my pocket

and hurried back
to the bungalow.

I opened the door,

switched on the lights,

and there he was.

Whoever killed him
must have left in a hurry,

didn't notice that Ferrara
was still alive.

He'd come to
just long enough to call me.

And then before
I even looked at it,

I knew he'd been murdered
with my gun.

There was one bullet missing.

It had just been fired.

Then I discovered
the rest of the frame,

the frame even had a motive

on the desk were personal letters

I'd written to Amanda Rousseau

and a cigarette lighter
with my initials on it.

I started to call the police.

And suppose they didn't
believe me.

So I...
I didn't call them.

Instead, I decided to make it
look like a cheap robbery.

I took his wallet.

In his hand,
was the gold medallion

he'd always worn
around his neck.

He must have clutched at it
when he died,

I even took that.

I wanted to make sure the police

would call it a robbery.

There didn't seem anything
else that I could do, so I...

well, I got out in a hurry.

And that's the story, Larry.

I didn't kill him.

You should have gone
to the police, Sam.

I know I should have,
I couldn't,

there was another reason.

I was sure then
I knew who'd killed Ferrara,

somebody I love very deeply,

who wasn't very fond of me.

Amanda Rousseau?

That's right.

What about Rodale?

Oh, don't you spot the pattern?
It's...

It's a retake.

Someone wants to frame me again.

The parking stuff,
the phone number.

If Rodale was found
with a bullet in his chest,

well, it's the identical setup.

What makes you think
he wasn't found

with the bullet in his chest?

I don't know.

Papers didn't say
how he was killed.

Is that the medallion?

Mmm.

I'd like to take it with me
and the gun.

I gather you're not
buying my story.

The police won't buy it.

I'm not asking about the police,
I'm asking you.

You're supposed to be
a friend of mine.

- I still am.
- Not in my book.

Go ahead.

Call the police,
give them all the evidence.

Do anything you want,
just get out of here.

All right, Sam.

But I'm not going to the police.

In the meantime,
let's call off the picture.

Good night, Sam.

On the way back
to the studio,

Larry stopped off the Church
of the Good Shepherd.

He talked with Father Murphy
and when they finished,

he knew all about the gold
medallion that Sam found

in Franklin Ferrara's
clenched hand.

- Larry.
- Sally.

I've been trying
to reach you all evening.

- I finally came here.
- What's the matter?

I don't believe it.
It's impossible.

What are you talking about?

My father gave
a full confession.

Larry, he couldn't kill anybody.

Don't worry, Sally.
Don't worry.

- Lennox speaking.
- Sergeant,

this is Larry O'Brien.

- What do you mean "sergeant"?
- I've rewritten the script,

come on down the studio
and take a look at it.

Are you kidding?

Haven't you heard
we got a full confession

out of Roland Paul?

Look, we made a deal with him.

We keep the family out
and keep him in.

Like I told you,
it's all routine,

happens every day.

And don't call me sergeant.

If you're not here in a half
an hour, sergeant,

you stand a very good chance
of starting all over again

as a patrolman.

Wasn't it Lennox
who arrested my father?

Yes. He's on his way over.

Oh, I'm sorry
I didn't mean to intrude.

I was working late
and saw your light.

Well, that's quite
all right, Vince.

There's a young lady you might
be interested in meeting.

Sally Rousseau,
Vincent St. Clair.

Amanda Rousseau's daughter.

I thought I was dreaming
when I saw you the other night.

You're as lovely
as your beautiful mother.

That's very kind of you.

You heard about Roland Paul?

They got a full
confession out of him.

Really?

Well how does that
fit into our story?

Well, you're the writer, Vince.

How do you think it fits in?

I don't think it fits in at all.

Neither do I.

You know something, Vince?

I think I've found
the key to the story.

Really?
I'm glad to hear it.

I knew you would.

Your dramatic design
on the blackboard

helped me a great deal.

You know the arrows,

there were quite a lot of them.

But there was one missing.

Well, there's always room
for one more, Larry.

Hmm.

That's what I thought.

And that's the way
the story should be told,

from the point of view
of the missing arrow.

Oh, and this missing arrow,

how does he see the story,

or is it a she?

The missing arrow
is the brother,

Philip Ferrara.

Oh, that's old hat, Larry.

They had a theory years ago
and abandoned it.

Philip Ferrara's dead,

that is if there ever was
a Philip Ferrara.

Larry, my mother never
mentioned a Philip Ferrara.

That's because he changed
his name, Sally.

Philip Ferrara
had a police record.

He avoided arrest
by going to China,

where he was supposed
to have died.

But he didn't die.

He came back to California

and in 1929, killed his brother.

But who killed Rodale?

The same Philip Ferrara.

Rodale was the only man
who could identify him.

You have
a very good case, O'Brien,

except for two minor points.

Point one,
who is Philip Ferrara?

You said, you don't know.

That's where
you're mistaken, Vince.

I do know.

Oh, you have proof
of his identity?

Complete proof.

Right here.

Oh. And point two,

why should Philip Ferrara
kill his brother?

It seems to me
you have no motive.

I have a motive.
Jealousy.

You were jealous of your
brother's success, Philip,

so you killed him.

Still writing bad scenes,
aren't you?

You thought I wrote
pretty good ones

when you hired me?

They were.

But you didn't write them,

it was your brother who did it.

When Sam Collyer found out
you couldn't write,

he fired you.

You hated him for that.

So you tried to frame him
for the murder of your brother.

You don't need me anymore,
O'Brien.

You've written your own ending

to the Ferrara story.

Sally, stay with him.

Well, of course
Larry changed the ending

for his picture.

An audience
just wouldn't believe

that it could happen twice

in exactly the same way.

He even had the medallion
in his hand

just like his brother did.

That medallion,

only Larry knew what it was.

The figure on it
was the patron saint

of the Ferrara family.

The assumed name
used by Philip Ferrara,

St. Clair.

Well, Larry finally
finished his picture

and he and Sally were on
their way to be married.

We all stopped off at Capistrano

to pay our respects
to a great director,

Franklin Ferrara.

Sam was with us.

After all, he was going to be
Larry's best man

so he couldn't stay mad
at Larry for too long.

Especially when you consider
that he cleared up

a 22-year-old nightmare.

And me,

well, somebody had
to give the bride away.