♪
Well, that's the last picture Gina will ever pose for.
♪
♪
♪
What can I do for you?
Mr. Crane, I need your help.
It is urgent and there's very little time.
Only three days.
You will have to work very quickly.
I mean if you are free to take the case.
Well, that's something you'll have to take up with Mr. C. himself.
You are not Lucius Crane?
Not by about 120 pounds.
Bill Gregory, I work for Mr. Crane.
I am Mario Carvello.
Please, may I see him?
Well, he just stepped out for a bite of lunch, will you wait?
Thank you.
Will you have a seat Mr. Carvello?
Thank you.
A limited edition set of Shakespeare.
You know I've always wanted...
It doesn't matter now.
Why don't you and Mr. Shakespeare curl up on the couch for a while?
It'll be about three hours.
Three hours?
But you said a bite of lunch.
Mr. C. has a king-sized inner man to take care of.
Oh, thank you.
Well, then if you will tell me where he is, I will go to him.
I'm sorry Mr. Carvello.
If anyone interrupted Mr. C.'s lunch, the tremors would shake the seismograph at Caltech.
I don't care about the ritual of Mr. Crane's lunch.
Not while Gina lies dead in the morgue and the police refuse to find the one who killed her.
Look Mr. Carvello, I don't know any Gina.
And I don't know what you're talking about.
Gina Lardelli, the girl who...
Here.
It was in the newspaper.
Yes, I read it.
Nobody killed Gina Lardelli.
She committed suicide.
No.
No, Mr. Gregory, she did not.
The police seem to think so.
The police are wrong.
She was murdered.
How do you know?
I will tell that to Mr. Crane.
You mean you can prove it?
Yes, of course.
Mr. Gregory, time is running out.
All I can tell you is that Gina Lardelli did not take her own life.
She was killed.
And the one who killed her walks free because Mr. Crane cannot be disturbed at lunch.
All right.
I've been fired 40 times this year for less.
Let's try for 41.
Thank you.
Don't let him buffalo you.
His bark is worse than his bite.
If you're looking for the large one,
he's instructing my chef in the mysteries of the dressing Marie Antoinette.
Thanks, Bruno.
Will you have a seat?
I'll be right back.
And finally, Marcel, a touch of tarragon.
Mr. C., I have someone at your table.
His name is Mario Cavello.
He wants you to take a case.
He's been looking for us for three days, he says.
I shall be occupied for the next three days looking for a new assistant.
He's a schoolteacher from the other side of town.
He's come a long way.
I think you ought to see him.
For a schoolteacher, I should think my fee of $200 a day would be rather an extravagance.
We didn't discuss money.
He's a decent old man and he needs help.
I hope you realize that if I shed a single tear into this dressing,
it'll be ruined by too much salt.
How about it, Mr. C.?
Call it a last favor to me?
William, you're a sickening romantic.
Uncheathe.
It's that model they found in the Golden State Towers, Gina Lardelli.
Yes, I read the story.
Suicide, lovers' quarrel.
Cavello says she was killed.
Ridiculous.
That's what he says.
Lieutenant Brecker doesn't make mistakes of that kind.
The old man says he's got proof.
Did you see the proof?
No.
But I believe him.
Oh, Marcel, serve it chilled, 40 degrees.
Merci, Lucius.
C'est un plaisir toujours. Jusqu'au demain.
Bon, jusqu'au demain.
Mr. Crane?
Please, don't get up, Mr. Carmelo.
Would you care for a bite of lunch?
Thank you, no.
William?
A last supper?
Just coffee, thanks.
Bruno, you may bring my shrimp larou.
And with my chateaubriand, a half bottle of Henri Lettou, 47.
Yes, sir.
Mr. Crane, we need your help.
I have known Gina Lardelli since the first day she started school,
at Santa Bonaventura.
One moment, Mr. Carmelo, before you go into the details.
I should warn you that my services are very expensive.
Yes, I know.
I inquired and found that the fee for a private investigator
could run as high as $100 per day.
So...
we collected $300 for three days.
We?
Gina's friends and Gina's family.
There were so many of them.
Dr. Tondini, who brought her into the world.
Mary Murphy, who made her first communion dress.
Papa Weinstein at the candy store.
Her classmates at Santa Bonaventura, her neighbors.
Even those who lately would turn away
when she would come to visit her mother and sister.
They all helped.
Even if I were to accept the case, why only three days?
What if it should take longer?
Oh, no. No, it must not take longer.
In three days, Gina is to be buried.
Are you aware of Gina's fate if she did take her own life?
She would be denied burial in consecrated ground.
Yes, Mr. Crane.
A very harsh punishment for something she didn't do.
And think of those who are left behind,
her mother and sister, how they must feel.
The burial is to be on Monday.
We want Gina laid to rest in hallowed ground where she belongs.
What evidence do you have that she was killed?
Mr. Crane, Gina may have done many weak and foolish things
for which she is paid.
She is dead.
But she was always a very religious girl.
She would never take her own life.
Go on.
That is all?
You mean you wish me to take the case on that basis alone?
In your faith?
Yes, Mr. Crane.
You told me you could prove it.
That's the only reason I brought you here.
Well, Mr. Carvello, is that the extent of your proof?
No.
No, there is more.
The faith of 32 friends of Gina Lardelli.
A list of their names and their offerings.
Pittances mostly because they are mostly very poor.
That is my proof.
32 pittances of faith.
Mario Carvello, $83.
Something more than a pittance, I would say.
I was saving up to buy the limited edition set of Shakespeare.
But I guess I can always read Shakespeare in the public library.
He will understand.
And so do I, Mr. Carvello.
Now, take the case.
Thank you.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go tell the others.
It will make them very happy.
And thank you, Mr. Gregory.
Goodbye.
Talk about sickening romantics.
Cutting your fee in half.
William, I suggest you wipe that smirk off your face.
And phone Lieutenant Brecker and ask if I may have a peek at the Gina Lardelli file.
You mean you really think she was killed?
I didn't say that.
Let's just say I'm living proof that faith can move mountains.
Hi, Mr. Crane.
Afternoon, Eddie.
I understand Lieutenant Brecker is fishing.
A fish named Frankie Martell.
TV Newsreel, Mr. Crane.
Are you working on the Martell disappearance?
Not at all.
I'm just an old angling companion of Lieutenant Brecker's.
Mrs. Martell hasn't hired you to look for Frankie?
Well, I'm not sure I'd accept the case.
The mere thought of finding Martell alive repels me.
Thank you, Mr. Crane.
Think it's Frankie Martell?
He's somewhere.
My watchman saw a car stop about midnight, no headlights.
Heard him drop something into the water, made a big splash.
Could be Martell.
It's worth a try.
You reckon?
Katz?
Killando?
Yeah, killer shark division.
What's this about the Lardelli girl?
Something I missed?
Oh, I doubt it, Craig.
I'm a hero, I like to give the illusion that I'm hollowing my tray.
What's your client after?
Murder.
Maude Wash?
Well, probably not, Craig.
What about the police ranch?
Larry Scott?
Mob connections, a leech.
Anything from shakedowns to slop machines and jukeboxes.
I made enough to keep Gina in purse and jewelry.
According to the papers, we had a fight last night.
Boy, all Americans fighting.
I've got Bill checking on Scott.
Maude Wash, either.
Scott's got an alibi.
He was in his own apartment when the suicide took place.
Doorman and elevator boy vouched for him.
Who vouches for them?
They're clean.
Mind if I backtrack over some of your ground?
Go ahead.
Waste your client's money.
The apartment?
Sure, the girl's apartment, the superintendent, the mother, the twin sister.
The client neglected to inform me that the sisters are twins.
They aren't anymore.
Gina's dead.
Hey, Paps, this guy is really heavy.
He's got a slot machine tied to his legs.
I can't even lift him.
You got a slot machine tied to your feet, Lieutenant?
Leave everything just the way it is.
Bring him up here in the pier.
It's Frankie Martel, all right?
Looks like this is one that he couldn't fix.
There's the file, Mr. Crane.
I've got more pictures inside if you want them.
Thanks, Steve.
This is it, Mr. Crane.
Wear it hot.
You can still smell her perfume.
Right there in the dark she was.
Looking out at the city like she wanted to see it for the last time.
You can still see the bullet hole.
Right there.
I can't fill it in until the lieutenant gives the okay.
Beautiful girl like that.
Terrible.
And a nice girl, too.
Always treated me like a human being.
It was always, good morning, Harry.
Good evening, Harry.
Never treated me like dirt like that Larry Scott did.
I used to bring her things whenever she wanted.
Didn't matter what time it was.
Sandwiches and things.
She never made me feel like no errand boy.
More like a pal.
Yes, of course, Harry.
Now, if you don't mind.
Sure, Mr. Crane.
Sure.
Sure.
Mr Scott I presume.
Who are you?
Don't you think you ought to put that away?
One of us might get hurt.
I asked you a question, fat man.
The name's Lucius Cray.
Oh yeah.
Snooper.
What are you doing here?
Snooping.
For what?
Evidence.
What kind of evidence?
Murder.
What are you talking about? It was suicide. Ask the police.
Well, the police have been sadly overworked looking for the late Frankie Martel.
With more time at my disposal, I've come to the conclusion that someone shot Gina.
Made it look like her own idea.
Me?
Well, nothing personal, but you and Gina did have a slight falling out last night.
Don't go building any castles. The police have checked my alibi.
I don't suppose you bother to tell them about your trick piggy bank.
Why should I? It was my money. Gina was keeping it for me.
Getaway money?
Well, perhaps Gina didn't want to give it back. Perhaps that's why you had your little tiff.
My money didn't figure in it.
We were at a party at Royal Milligan's.
Gina was jealous over some doll. Next thing I know, she's running out.
How did you manage to wangle an invitation to Royal Milligan's?
I thought his guest list was confined to white tie hoods.
I do all right.
About Gina. You didn't follow her?
No. I said run away little girl. It's time it's over.
I went home. Next thing I know, I'm being dragged down here in a squad car.
She stopped running.
Larry, do you really believe Gina would kill herself over you?
She did, didn't she? Don't expect me to go around the rest of my life blaming myself.
Don't worry, Larry. I'm sure there's a higher power who will do that for you.
Look, Snooper. The police have closed their books on this case.
Take my advice. Close yours.
I heard voices. I thought maybe there was trouble.
Everything's fine, Harry. Just fine.
Well, just a minute, Harry.
Yes, sir?
About those errands you ran for Gina.
When was the last time you brought her a sandwich or anything?
About a week ago, I guess. Why?
Nonsense.
I didn't see much of her this last week. Just going in and out. With that one.
And last night?
Didn't see her at all. Or him.
I was watching television. I told the police.
You think there's something fishy about what happened here last night, Mr. Crane?
That why you're looking around?
You think maybe Scott had something to do with it?
Thank you, Harry. I'll call on you if I need you.
Sure, Mr. Crane. Anything I can do.
A beautiful girl like that.
Ending the search for missing racketeer Frankie Martel, who finally hit the biggest jackpot of them all,
only to find that it paid off at the bottom of the ocean.
And so another underworld argument is settled in the usual way.
Not by compromise, arbitration, or discussion, but by violent death.
And whoever is responsible is probably sitting at home watching these last episodes of his life.
Just caught your act on TV.
Oh? How did I look?
Well, anyway, you filled the screen.
What are you doing in that getup?
Ned's a neighbor of mine. I figured Larry Scott's TV was due for an overhaul.
Nice work. Of course, you were thorough enough to overhaul the entire apartment.
Well, I never did get around to the TV set, but I did figure out Larry's favorite dish.
Which is?
Alphabet soup.
The rest of the paper's on the floor.
Sometimes, William, you positively dazzle me.
If Larry Scott didn't kill Gina himself, he must know who did.
Take these missing letters, paste them all together in the proper order,
and I'll wager you'll come up with the sweetest answer.
I'm not going to do that.
I'm going to do it.
I'll tell you what Larry Scott is. Paste them all together in the proper order,
and I'll wager you'll come up with the sweetest little blackmail note you've ever read.
Dig up a fresh copy of this edition.
Right.
I'll bet you'll get back to my apartment and change into my working clothes.
Yes, and in the meantime, I'll check the Lardelli family down on Bonner Street
after I've changed into a blue shirt.
That's where those TV cameras will show up.
Yes?
Mrs. Lardelli?
Yes.
I'm Lucius Crane. May I come in?
You are from the police?
I'm a friend of Mario Carvalho's.
Oh, please come in.
Yes.
Won't you sit down?
Thank you.
Please, over here. Can I offer you something?
No, thank you, Mrs. Lardelli.
Mario's been a good friend for many years, ever since my husband died.
Good friend.
He asked me to come here because he believes you need help.
Help?
Yes, it's about your daughter, Gina.
I'm a private investigator.
Gina's dead.
Nobody can help her.
Mrs. Lardelli, nothing can bring your daughter back to life.
But in your faith, death is another form of life, is it not?
Mario Carvalho believes that your daughter deserves the resting place that you would want for her,
in consecrated ground.
Why did you have to come here?
It is done.
How much can I bear?
We've talked to the police, to the newspaper men.
We have been reminded enough.
Please go away, Mr. Crane.
I'm sorry. I know how you must feel.
But Mario believes your daughter was murdered.
Mario's a good man, but sometimes he's a fool.
He lives too much in books.
How would he know?
The police see this kind of thing every day.
They know.
You really believe that Gina took her own life?
Yes.
How does it happen?
When they were little girls, Gina and Maria,
they were like two little dolls.
I would dress them so carefully, so pretty.
The people would stop in the street and look at them and smile.
They were so alike and so beautiful.
I felt warm inside and good, and I knew my place on this earth.
How does it happen?
Please, Mr. Crane, we just want to be left alone.
I understand.
But before I go, may I talk to Maria for just a moment?
No, it wouldn't do any good.
Do you know what it means to be a twin and have the other one die?
It's like losing half of yourself,
just as though you yourself have died a little.
Maria now stays in her room in the dark,
and I can't get her to eat, to see people, her friends.
Please, Mr. Crane, she is my only daughter.
It's all right, Mama.
Look, Maria.
There isn't very much I can tell you.
Maria, did you and Gina get along?
I was sorry for her.
I thought she was throwing herself away,
making herself cheap.
Did you hold it against her that she left you here alone with all the responsibility?
No, she helped out.
Did you ever go to see her?
Yes.
Did she confide in you?
Sometimes.
Did she ever mention Larry Scott?
Yes, I knew what was going on.
I begged her to come home.
I warned her that something bad would happen.
She only laughed at me.
She said if I wanted to rot in this pigsty of a neighborhood that she wasn't...
Oh, please, Mr. Crane.
Just one more question.
Maria, do you believe Gina killed herself?
Oh, no.
At first, no, I didn't think so.
It's against everything we've been taught.
But the police are so sure.
But are you sure?
Mr. Crane, if we were so different about life,
perhaps we could also be different about death.
Thank you, Maria.
But please forgive me for intruding on your sorrow.
Is it time, sir?
Yes, of course.
Police, Batman!
Move!
Come on!
He's faster than speed, isn't he?
Well, what were you?
I'm so fat after I carved some of that blubber off him.
The purpose of this rumble is to relieve me of my wallet.
You're in for a disappointment.
I travel exclusively on credit cards.
We don't need your money, Belch.
Batman!
True, that's all.
You're sawed off.
You're square.
You're so square you're going to wind up in a square box.
Okay, okay, like...
Let's get it over with.
He's my pigeon.
How you feel now, Batman?
I suspect your courage ends at the heel of that knife.
Let's tickle him a little.
I'll kill him!
Hold it!
Let me get my kicks first, huh?
Come on!
You got anything to say before you start bleeding, Batman?
All right, the party's over.
You three, face us to the wall.
Down here, please.
Down here, please.
Go!
Let him go!
You don't scare me, Batman.
Self-defense, I believe they'd call it.
Wouldn't you say?
No, man, look, we was only ripping, you know.
Honest, we was.
Interesting psychological fact about punks.
They're all jellyfish trying to be sharks.
We didn't take nothing.
You got nothing on us.
That's exactly what intrigues me.
You didn't want my wallet.
What did you want?
Nothing.
It was for kicks, that's all, man.
For kicks.
Oh, that won't do.
Your type doesn't waste much time laughing.
Now, I want the truth.
Some punk meets us in Lantner's Chavez Ravine.
He says, I'd just like to split a century.
Doing what, he says?
He says, if we get you out of the way, he'll pay off.
You know, we nick you up a little,
just put you in emergency bed for a while.
What did he look like?
A punk.
Why did he want me out of the way?
Maybe he don't like the way you tip the scales.
Look, for a century, who asked questions?
How did he know I'd be here?
I don't know.
What do we, you didn't give him no exam?
Look, he just says, stick around.
Sooner or later, the fat man will show.
All right.
Now, find your punk.
Tell him the make went wrong.
Tell him tomorrow morning, I'll be on my way to the police
with some very interesting news.
Bill!
Speed up, farting gas.
I'm dead.
I saw your car.
Did they cut your arm?
No, just a sleeve.
I heard voices in an empty store,
and I figured if there was any trouble,
you'd manage to find it.
You did.
The Marines trained you well.
And what brings you to this remote beachhead?
Larry Scott phoned.
Sounded like a man with a noose around his neck.
What did he want?
Said he'd only tell it to the great white father.
He's going to call your apartment in about an hour.
We'll make it.
By the way, what's that news you've got for the police?
News?
Oh, that.
It's simple.
He tells the punk.
The punk tells whoever hired him.
Whoever hired him comes looking for me
to find out what I know.
That way, I might even find out myself.
The evening shows promise, William.
Great promise.
One thing we did find out.
Gina Lardelli did not commit suicide.
When did you say that was written?
18th century.
Cool cat, that Scarlatti.
Well, everything new has its roots in the past.
Mr. Scarlatti and his harpsichord
would have been perfectly at home at Birdland.
You know, it just hit me.
We could be here like a couple of sitting ducks.
No, William.
We're sitting in the blind, waiting for the ducks.
Quack, quack, William.
I'd like to see Mr. Crane.
Millican's the name.
Royal Millican.
Come in, Mr. Millican.
Come right in.
I hope you'll forgive our breaking in.
I did phone, but you were out.
I was just passing by, and I thought it'd be all right.
Hope you don't mind, Charlie.
Oh, not at all.
It appears we both have bodyguards.
I have enemies, Mr. Crane.
Sit down, please.
Every man who has money has enemies,
and I have a great deal of money.
Yes, it was the object of a great deal
of senatorial curiosity at last year's
crime commission hearings, as I recall.
Television doesn't do you justice, Mr. Millican.
Bill, I guess you might like a drink.
No, thanks.
Would you care...
No, perhaps not.
You're driving.
Mr. Crane, I'm sorry.
Mr. Crane, I live my life quietly and without event,
as the hearings proved.
I own a number of corporations.
I pay my taxes, along with the rest
of the long-suffering public.
I have a famous art collection, of which I am very proud.
And no police blotter in the world
has ever had my name on it.
Very enviable record.
But what brings you here, Mr. Millican?
I'm not a senator.
Charlie.
Unwrap it.
You recognize it, of course.
Of course.
Van Gogh, the Isles period.
I saw it at the Lorraine Gallery in Paris.
I was there last spring on a case involving an art forgery.
Yes, I know.
That's what made me think of you.
Would you care to look at it again, Mr. Crane?
Closely.
My dealer purchased it for me at the Lorraine,
for quite a sizable sum, I might add.
Half a million, I believe.
That's close enough.
He'd have done better to have bought a reproduction
for half a hundred dollars.
This is a copy.
A good one, mind you, but still a copy.
My dealer agrees with you.
When the canvas arrived this morning,
he knew immediately it was not the one
I'd commissioned him to buy.
Somewhere, after it left the gallery in Paris,
a substitution was made.
Well, this would seem to make it a case
for the insurance company.
They're working on it, as are the Paris police.
But I want personal representation.
I think you could find the original for me.
Would a $10,000 fee do?
Plus expenses, of course.
It would do handsomely.
I thought it would.
Your transportation has been arranged.
You will leave on the Clipper at 8 a.m.
You will stay at the Georges Saint in Paris.
A letter of credit will be waiting.
Your ticket.
Oh, very thorough, Mr. Millican.
But I'm afraid my departure will have to be delayed
for a day or two.
Oh, that would be very unfortunate.
May I ask why?
My services have been spoken for until Monday
by another client.
If it's a matter of this other client's fee
having been paid,
I'd gladly assume that liability.
I'm sorry.
In my profession, it isn't always a question of money.
On occasion, it is of consuming importance
to see that, if you'd pardon the expression,
justice is done.
Well, shall we say Monday then?
Fine.
I'm sure I'll have the other case
successfully concluded by then.
Oh, Mr. Millican, don't forget your painting.
The frame is worth something.
10,000 fish.
Very tempting.
Pay a lot of tabs at Le Roux.
Yes, Mr. Millican was quite aware of that.
You know, he could be one of the ducks.
After all, Larry Scott and Gina were at his party
the night she died.
Yes, I know.
But Mr. Millican seems quite determined to get rid of me.
A lot of people do.
That'll be Larry Scott.
Hello?
What?
Bill Gregory, who's this?
Lieutenant Brecker.
Yes, Breck?
I thought you'd like to know.
Your client may be right about the Lardelli case.
Things are beginning to pop.
What's happened?
Someone put plugs into Larry Scott.
Left him for dead up in Mulholland.
Can he talk?
He's in surgery.
No, they don't give him much chance.
Breck, I think he was shaking down
whoever it was that killed Gina.
We can't let him take that answer along with him.
There's always a chance he'll come around before he checks out.
Sure, come on down.
It'll be a long wait.
We'll pace the floor together.
You could use the exercise.
I'm leaving now.
You know, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a doctor.
And then I thought, uh-uh, not for me.
Give me a job with regular hours.
He's conscious, but if you want anything from him, you'd better hurry.
Larry, who did it?
Tell us who shot you.
Mind if I try?
Larry, this is Lucius Crane.
Who killed Gina Lardelli?
Larry, you can do one decent thing before you go.
Tell us who killed Gina.
Frank G. Martello.
Frank G. Martello?
It's impossible.
Frank G. was in the water hours before the girl died.
Perhaps he was trying to tell us there was some connection between the two deaths.
Could be.
Did Gina know Frank G. Martello?
I'll check, but my guess is that they moved in different circles.
Pretty girls have to move in ever-widening circles.
She's ambitious.
I never was any good at jigsaw puzzles.
Bill, I'm convinced that the answer was in the blackmail note.
Not who killed Gina particularly, but why was she killed?
Look, Mr. C., it's been a long day, and we didn't get any sleep last night.
William, do you want to be a private investigator or a tester in a mattress factory?
Okay.
Okay.
Well, the point is we have only until tomorrow.
Mr. Carvello, come in.
Mr. Carvello.
Cup of espresso?
I can assure you there's no finer west of Naples hotel.
No, no, thank you.
I'm sorry to have to disturb you on a Sunday.
Not at all.
Sit down.
For $100 a day, I extend my clients the privilege of talking to me whenever they wish.
That's why I'm here.
I am no longer a client.
You mean I'm fired?
I wouldn't put it just that way, Mr. Crean.
This is the first time I've ever been fired by 32 clients in one fell swoop.
There must be a very good reason.
Oh, yes.
Yes, there is.
May I hear it?
Mr. Crean, I'm a silly, interfering old man.
I live so much in the world of books that sometimes I forget in the outside world there is evil.
I thought Gina's faith too strong for her to take her own life.
Now I realize the police know better.
What happened to your faith, Mr. Carvell?
A man's faith can sometimes be shaken by the truth.
The other 31 friends of Gina Lardelli, are they backsliders too?
They sent me here.
I see.
Well, it remains only the matter of returning your fee.
I owe you a day, that's $100.
Oh, no, no.
We made a contract.
The money is yours.
And thank you very much, Mr. Crean.
And you too, Mr. Gregory.
Goodbye.
I'll let myself out.
Goodbye.
Looks like somebody else wants you off the case.
Exactly.
Why did he do it, Bill?
Why did he lie?
Who said he was lying?
He's the roughest liar I ever met.
A rank amateur.
It's my guess that he lied today for the first time in his life.
No.
There's more than that.
I think he was afraid.
Why?
Bill.
What makes a man of Mario Carvalho's deep and abiding faith suddenly afraid?
Maybe he found out who killed Gina.
That's what occurred to me also.
It could be one of the 32 friends.
Or even closer to home.
Now there's one piece still missing.
It's bubbling about me, but I can't quite put my finger on it.
What a private eye Johann Sebastian Bach would have made.
You see, Bill, murder has a habit of assuming a precise, absolute form, rather than like a piece of music.
Take this Fantasia, for example.
You see, Bach starts with a given theme.
Gina Laudelli is dead.
Then he takes the theme and writes variations on it.
Now, what are our variations?
They're infinite.
The watery grave of Frankie Martel.
Larry Scott, who was ventilated because he knew that the other two variations, Gina and Frankie Martel, were connected.
Because they came from the original theme.
But how?
So far it's pure Bach.
Variations one and two.
Unfortunately, we're lacking a conclusion that would bring us full circle.
Bill, take a look at my hands.
You need a manicure?
The position of my hands.
They're crossed.
The Laudelli sisters changed places.
Of course.
It has to be.
The wrong twin was killed.
Gina's still alive.
I felt it in the Laudelli apartment, but it got away before I could take hold of it.
Oh, Gina played her role well.
Never overdoing it for a minute.
Not too noble and not weeping all over the place.
Just critical enough of her dead sister to make it real.
The drab hairdo, the bargain basement blouse.
Oh, she played it to a hilt.
She would have gotten away with it except for one thing.
Bright work.
Jewelry.
No jewelry, Bill.
The girl they shot was fully clothed but wore no jewelry.
Gina wouldn't have been caught dead without her jewels.
That's what she left home for, furs, gowns, and jewels.
However it happened, they killed the wrong girl.
Wait a second.
If anyone had a reason to kill Gina to begin with, they still do.
She's still in danger.
Yes, precisely.
And if Buck and I could reach the same tidy conclusion, so could whoever.
Particularly if Larry Scott talked before he was shot trying to save his own neck.
Come on, Bill.
Let's go talk to Gina.
Then it was Maria who was killed.
Yes.
Yes, they made a mistake.
And it was you who sent Mr. Carvalho to call me off the case.
Yes, I had to.
I told him everything.
I told him how dangerous it would be if you found out the truth.
Gina was frightened that it would all come out and the man who killed Maria would go after her.
She said he would find them anywhere if he knew.
God forgive me.
That is why I was able to lie about Maria taking her own life.
I knew she would understand.
She was so good by Maria.
Why should someone want to kill Gina?
She wouldn't tell me.
Would you ask her to come on, please?
But she's not here.
She's gone.
Gone?
Where?
To the airport, to my sister's in Modesto.
But I thought you would know that.
Why?
Well, right after Gina left, your man came here looking for her.
Yes, he said he was working for you and wanted to protect Gina.
What did he look like?
Just a man in a chauffeur's uniform.
Milliken's man, Charlie.
You didn't tell him where she'd gone.
Yes, to the airport.
Charlie made one mistake.
He's not likely to make another.
Get to the telephone and tell Brecker I'll see him at the airport.
Did I do wrong?
Don't worry, Mrs. Lauday.
She'll be all right.
Gina.
Gina.
Gina.
Gina.
Gina.
Gina.
Gina.
Gina.
Gina.
Gina.
Gina.
Take it to Modesto, please.
No, one way.
2360.
Thank you.
Yes, sir?
Give me a ticket to Modesto.
Thank you, sir.
United Airlines mainliner flight number 745
now boarding South Concourse Gate number 7
for Modesto, Fresno, San Francisco.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Was he here?
Yes, Gina, to kill you.
The way he killed Maria.
Are you feeling better?
Yes.
No.
Please.
Gina, you must talk.
Tell us what happened.
Maria paid with her life for you.
How long can you go on thinking just of yourself?
What do you know about Royal Millican?
Why did he want you dead?
I saw him kill Frankie Martel.
Send out an all points for Royal Millican.
Where did it happen?
Millican's house.
Party.
Larry and I had a fight.
I got upset.
I went to look for my coat.
I thought it might be in the bedroom.
Millican was standing there with a gun in his hand.
He fired.
Frankie Martel fell back.
He must have come in some other way.
I didn't see him at the party.
The only slip Royal Millican ever made and you had to see it?
I ran out.
I was too scared to go to my apartment.
When I got to Mama's house, Maria was gone.
Then I remembered I'd given her a key to my apartment to borrow a blue dress.
A blue evening dress for an office party.
I tried to call her.
I tried to warn her.
It was too late.
She must have opened the door.
You became Maria?
Yeah.
Did Larry Scott know?
Oh, yeah.
He told me not to tell anybody.
He said he would take me away.
Protect me.
Only until he could shake down Royal Millican.
Poor Maria.
So ashamed.
So ashamed.
Ready, Bill?
Be just a second.
You really taking off for Paris, Mr. C?
I'm Royal Millican's guest on the jet.
He won't have any use for a plane ticket where he's going.
Ouch.
If I should recover the real Van Gogh, I'm certain he won't object if I donate it to a museum.
Anonymously, of course.
From a friend.
There. That'll do it.
Perhaps Shakespeare will convince Mario Carvallo that hate is sometimes its own reward.
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