ANNCR:

The Adventures of Sam Spade, Detective- brought to you by Wildroot Cream-Oil Hair Tonic, the non-alcoholic hair tonic that contains Lanolin. Wildroot Cream-Oil, "again and again the choice of men and women and children, too."

MUSIC:

(UP INTO TRILL INTO PHONE BELL)

SOUND:

(PHONE RINGS: RECEIVER LIFTED: TELEPHONE ON FILTER MIKE)

EFFIE:

Sam Spade Detective Agency.

SPADE:

(F) Me, Sweetheart.

EFFIE:

Oh, Sam, was it an interesting case?

SPADE:

(F) Fascinating, in a depressing sort of way.

EFFIE:

Oh, that's good.

SPADE:

(F) Good?

EFFIE:

Yes, because I know those who depress you the most pay off the best. And we do need the money.

SPADE:

(F) Well, don't send out for champagne. My client is on the way to Minneapolis. And besides, she's dead.

EFFIE:

You should have collected in advance, Sam.

SPADE:

(F) Well, I couldn't very well do that. She was dead when I met her. And her name wouldn't have been any good on a check anyway. Stay where you are. Sweetheart. I'll be right down to dictate my report on the Jane Doe Caper.

MUSIC:

(THEME AND TO BACKGROUND)

MUSIC:

(OVERTURE)

SOUND:

(DOOR CLOSED: STEPS)

EFFIE:

(FADE ON) Sam, you say the most abstracting things on the telephone.

SPADE:

You don't need a phone.

SOUND:

(STEPS)

EFFIE:

And what do you mean, her signature wasn't good.

SPADE:

Her name was Jane Doe, which means anybody, or no- body.

EFFIE:

There you go again. And what do you mean she was dead when you met her.

SPADE:

Just that. Come on, let's get this over.

EFFIE:

Sam, you're all unwrought.

SPADE:

Date: Fill it in. To: Detective Lieutenant Dundy, Homicide Detail, San Francisco Police. Subject: The Jane Doe Caper. Dear Dundy: (MUSIC SNEAK) You were there at the start of it, but just for the record, I had dropped in at the City Morgue for a routine checkup on a missing person job. I didn't think I'd find my client's husband there. In fact everything about her told me that her husband, unless he was out of his head, was at least out of the country. Think he turned out to be. But that's another story. What I did find, not on a morgue slab, but leaning over one, was you.

SOUND:

(DRIPPING WATER ON ECHO: STEPS ON ECHO: AND OUT)

DUNDY:

Hello, Sam. What brings you here?

SPADE:

Morbid curiosity. And you. Lieutenant?

DUNDY:

This girl. Harbor Patrol brought her in.

SPADE:

Golden Gate Bridge?

DUNDY:

Could have been. Looks like suicide ... What's the matter with the world, Sam? A girl with a young appealing face like that... everything to live for.

SPADE:

Who was she?

DUNDY:

Don't know, yet. Tagged her Jane Doe.

SPADE:

(MUSIC UNDER) And that's when I took my first real look at her. She couldn't have been in the water more than a few hours. Her shoes were missing- they would be- but the rest of her clothes were intact, and even with the soaking they'd got in the bay, you could still see that they had style, and had cost someone a lot of money. But something about her didn't seem to belong to those clothes. Her features were good, but she looked too young, and her skin looked as if it had never worn makeup. Her hands were smooth- almost too smooth and neatly manicured, but her nails were too short. And around her throat, where you would have expected to see a necklace or a string of pearls, there was a cheap silver medallion. She looked lonely and out of place, even in death, and I could sense that your thoughts were running in the same direction.

DUNDY:

Funny how some of them get to you, isn't it, Sam?

SPADE:

Yeah.

DUNDY:

It's things like this that make me think sometimes I should have gone into some other line of work. A cop is not supposed to have any personal feelings. But I can't help it. A young girl like that... everything to live for ...

SPADE:

Why do you keep saying that?

DUNDY:

Well . . . had money, anyway. Must have. Look at the way she's dressed. She could have sold that fur coat for enough to go away somewhere and start over.

SPADE:

You're sure of that, Dundy.

DUNDY:

You're darn right. That's mutation mink. My wife wants one.

SPADE:

She'll never get one at the rate you're going.

DUNDY:

Now. Sam ...

SPADE:

Dundy, of all the bay suicides, can you remember a single one that didn't take off his coat before jumping?

DUNDY:

Well, now, Sam, I don't- Say! Come to think of it-

SPADE:

That's using the old noodle. Keep it up, Dundy, I'll see you around. Hey, Maxie?

SOUND:

(STEPS SLIGHTLY)

DUNDY:

(SLIGHTLY OFF) Wait a minute, Sam.

SPADE:

(STEPS OUT) Yeah, Dundy?

DUNDY:

You got a hunch about this one?

SPADE:

You want to hire me?

DUNDY:

Now, Sam ....

SPADE:

Let me know how it comes out.

MAXIE:

Sammy! What can I do for you?

SPADE:

That stiff tagged Jane Doe.

MAXIE:

Autopsy report just came down. Drowning. Multiple fractures and shock. She took the jump alright.

SPADE:

Let's see that report. And don't tell Dundy, I asked for-

MAXIE:

Sure, Sammy. Make yourself at home.

MUSIC:

(IN AND CONTINUE BACKGROUND)

SPADE:

There are a lot of Jane Does in morgues all over the country. A lot of them get buried under that name. I don't know what there was about this one. You felt it too- in your subtle way. I couldn't shake the feeling that Jane Doe needed a friend- even if it was too late. (MUSIC CHANGES MOOD) None of the obvious means of identification were there. No labels in the clothes, no cleaner's marks, no dental work (and that was another thing that didn't fit the body of a well-dressed woman, because she needed some). The only thing that seemed to belong to her was that little cheap medallion. When I left the Morgue, I was carrying it in my pocket. My next stop was a little supply house on Columbus Avenue with a sign in the window, "Imported Medals Our Specialty." Don't ask me why I picked that one. Maybe because she looked kind of Italian ...

SOUND:

SHOP DOOR CLOSES: LIGHT TRAFFIC OFF

CLERK:

(FADES ON) Yes, sir? May I help you?

SPADE:

This medal. Do you sell them here?

CLERK:

Why, ah ... ah ... no. We haven't carried this design in over ten years.

SPADE:

But you used to sell them?

CLERK:

Yes. Before the war. It was an Italian import. I believe we had only one sale on them. A job lot for a graduating class.

SPADE:

Do you remember what school?

CLERK:

It would probably have been one of the poorer neighbor-hoods. Probably Benedict. Over on Lombard.

MUSIC:

BRIDGE

SOUND:

CHURCH CLOCK TOLLING THREE PM KIDS PLAYING OFFSTAGE TWIST DOORBELL: STEPS APPROACH WITHIN: DOOR OPENED

FITZ:

Good afternoon. Won't you come in?

SPADE:

Thank you.

SOUND:

STEPS: DOOR CLOSED: BACKGROUND DOWN

FITZ:

What can I do for you?

SPADE:

My name is Spade. I'm a private detective. I'm trying to trace down the identity of a girl who might have gone to school here.

FITZ:

Is she in trouble?

SPADE:

She's dead, Father-

FITZ:

Poor child . . .

SPADE:

The only clue to her identity was this medallion. She was wearing it when the body was recovered.

FITZ:

Oh, yes, I remember these. Have you a picture of this girl?

SPADE:

Yes... It's not very pleasant...

FITZ:

I have seen death before, many times . . . (SIGHS) Oh, yes. Poor child.

SPADE:

Do you recognize her?

FITZ:

Something about her . . . yes, perhaps. There have been so many. You see- there on the wall- the framed photographs. (SOUND: STEPS UNDER) each one a group of a dozen or more children dating back for more than twenty years. Here it is- the class of 1940.

(MUSIC UNDER)

 

SPADE:

I looked at it. A group of eight boys and ten girls. The girls were wearing identical white dresses and white veils, identical self-conscious expressions, and wearing identical medals. I couldn't tell one from the other. And best the kindly old dean could do for me was the names and addresses of the ten girls. (MUSIC UP AND DOWN)

(SOUND: TRAFFIC B.C.: STEPS ON SIDEWALK)

SPADE: The first four addresses were dead leads. The fifth didn't look any more or less promising than the others had. It was just another frame house with lace curtains in the windows, a downhill sag, and a sign- "Doorbell out of order."

(SOUND: STEPS TO WOOD PORCH: KNOCK ON DOOR: STEPS FROM WITHIN: DOOR OPENS)

 

SPADE:

You're Mrs. Armanda?

LOUISA:

How you know me?

SPADE:

I got your address from the Father at Benedict School.

LOUISA:

Oh. Come in.

SOUND:

STEPS: DOOR CLOSES: TRAFFIC DOWN: STEPS UNDER:

LOUISA:

I sorry for my poor house. When my husband die, they take his boat for debts. My son, he's a-gamble everything.

SOUND:

(STEPS OUT)

SPADE:

Does your daughter live at home, Mrs. Armanda?

LOUISA:

(A BEAT) Julia? Why you talk about her? She is in trouble?

SPADE:

I don't know. You didn't answer my question.

LOUISA:

No. She don't live home no more. She is leave her own people. She is make shame on us all.

SPADE:

Mrs. Armanda, I don't want to alarm you unnecessarily, but if the girl I have in mind is your daughter you'd better know about it. Here's a picture of the girl. Is it Julia?

LOUISA:

(LONG PAUSE) She is dead. What happen to this girl?

SPADE:

The police think she committed suicide. I'm not so sure. She isn't your daughter?

LOUISA:

No, She is no daughter of mine. Why you come here?

SPADE:

I told you. At the school.

LOUISA:

He's make a mistake. He is a good man. But he is old, he make too many mistake. What he say about this girl in the picture?

SPADE:

He thinks it would be tragic if she were buried as a suicide if she wasn't.

LOUISA:

(LONG PAUSE) No. She is no daughter of mine.

SPADE:

Have you ever seen her? Maybe in church?

LOUISA:

I don't think this girl go to my church. We are all poor here. She wear too fancy clothes. You go, now. I got to start supper for my son.

SOUND:

STEPS

SPADE:

All right, Mrs. Armanda.

(SOUND: ESTABLISH STEPS: DOOR OPENS: TRAFFIC UP)

 

SPADE:

(continued) Are you sure there isn't anything more you want to tell me?

LOUISA:

Goodbye.

SOUND:

DOOR CLOSED

SPADE:

(MUSIC IN) It was a funny kind of a bum's rush. Her voice said "goodbye," but her eyes seem to be pleading with me to stick around. I watched through the dingy glass pane in the door until she disappeared. Through the portiers into the living room. Then I opened the door and slipped back into the hallway.

SOUND:

(DOOR CLICKS SHUT: TRAFFIC DOWN)

LOUISA:

(WELL OFF, SLOWLY FADE ON) (WEEPING)

BULL:

(WELL OFF, FADING ON) Now, come on, now. Mother. I know how you feel, but this is not going to bring her back. Am I right? You've got yourself to think of and the rest of your family. She wasn't thinking of you when she took that way out. Am I correct?

LOUISA:

I don't believe it. I don't believe she killed herself. And even if she did, I got to claim my own.

BULL:

I'll take care of everything. I'll give her the biggest funeral you ever saw. And I'll see that you don't ever want for anything. Take care of you for life. That's the way Julia would have wanted it. Am I right?

LOUISA:

I don't know what is right. I know you want to be kind, but I know what I feel here. I go to her.

BULL:

It's too late.

LOUISA:

Why you say that?

BULL:

I told you I was taking care of her. Her body's been claimed. She's on the way to Minneapolis.

LOUISA:

Now I know what you are. I go to police. I tell them everything. I'm gone go to police-

BULL:

No, you're not-

SOUND:

(VOLLEY OF SHOTS)

LOUISA:

(SCREAMS AND DIES)

MUSIC:

(PUNCTUATE AND TO B.G.)

SOUND:

(RUNNING FOOTSTEPS: DOOR SLAMS OFFSTAGE)

SPADE:

All I saw was a pair of broad shoulders draped in a checked sports-jacket, before the back door closed behind him.

(SOUND: STEPS OUT: DOOR YANKED OPEN)

SPADE: By the time I got to it, he was half way down the stairway on the face of the hill, leading to the street at the rear of the house. (SOUND: TWO MIKE SHOTS) I threw a couple of shots at him. Between the fog and night closing in, I didn't expect them to connect, and they didn't. Two seconds after he made it to the street, I saw a car pull away from the curb. I guessed that he was in it, but that didn't help, because all I could see was the roof of it. I went back into the room where Mrs. Armanda had fallen. I didn't need a mirror test to know that she was dead. But I needed something better than that to find out why.

MUSIC:

(UP TO FIRST ACT CURTAIN)

ANNCR:

The makers of Wildroot Cream-Oil are presenting the weekly Sunday adventures of Dashiell Hammett's famous private detective ... SAM SPADE!

MUSIC:

UP AND RESOLVE OUT

ANNCR:

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MUSIC:

ANNCR:

And now back to "The Jane Doe Caper" tonight's Adventures with Sam Spade.

MUSIC:

SECOND OVERTURE

MUSIC:

(OVERTURE AND TO BACKGROUND)

SPADE:

I put the call in to Homicide. The house that Jane Doe had lived in was as bare and lacking in character as that tag they had put on her body in the morgue. I felt embarrassed and maybe a little disappointed when I started reconstructing her life from the things I found. She'd slept on an iron cot that sagged in the middle. The only other items of furniture in the room were a broken chair that had been mended with wire, and a dresser that looked as if it had been salvaged from a junkyard. Stuck in the frame of the dingy mirror was a blurred snapshot of a man in dungarees and a seaman's watch-cap. On the dresser top were a bottle of cheap perfume, a shoot-gallery-type doll, and a pair of rubber gloves. In the top drawer was a beaten-up patent leather purse containing an empty lipstick container, a ditto change purse, a filled-in application for hospital insurance, and a card of membership in the Fish Cannery Workers Union of the Pacific. I decided that union Card might be worth following up. But I didn't need it.

SOUND: (RAPPING ON DOOR OFFSTAGE) (SPADE'S STEPS REGISTER AND OUT WITH: DOOR OPEN)

TONIA:

Oh, pardon me, I didn't know Julie had company. Just tell her Tonia came by to see how she is.

SPADE:

Maybe you'd better come in.

TONIA:

Oh, I wouldn't think of butting in on-. (STOPS) Is something wrong?

SPADE:

Come on in.

SOUND:

(HER STEPS IN: DOOR CLOSED)

TONIA:

Who are you? Is Julie in trouble?

SPADE:

Everybody seems to think Julie should be in trouble. Why?

TONIA:

Are you a cop?

SPADE:

No.

TONIA:

Well, then, I'm going.

SPADE:

Wait a minute. I'm not quite a cop. But if you're a friend of Julie's the police will be looking you up. So maybe I can help you on your answers.

TONIA:

Where is Julie?

SPADE:

She's dead.

TONIA:

Poor Julie. I shouldn't say it, but I told her she was taking a terrible risk.

SPADE:

Tell me about it. You and Julie worked together?

TONIA:

Yes, out at the Apex Cannery. We were on the tuna- belt together, till she got moved up to Inspector. Maybe I should explain. The difference between an inspector is that we girls put the fish in the can and the inspector gets more money because all she does is look at them after they're in the can. Only you don't get there after only a month. So I said to Julie, I don't know what you've got on Mr. Driscoll, but be careful of it.

SPADE:

Who's Mr. Driscoll?

TONIA:

Why, he owns the cannery.

SPADE:

And he was friendly with Julie?

TONIA:

Was he friendly? You should have seen the fur coat he sent her. Mutation mink, no less. Just the other day.

SPADE:

I saw it.

TONIA:

Oh. Was she wearing it when they found her?

SPADE:

Why do you say that?

TONIA:

I know what happens when a girl pushes her luck too far. She winds up in the bay. Isn't that where they found Julie?

SPADE:

Look, Tonia, I don't know how much of this is shrewd guesswork on your part, or how much you really know. I don't know how much Julie's mother knew either. Well, she'll never tell us now.

TONIA:

You mean- Mrs. Armanda, too?

SPADE:

Yeah. She clammed up when she should have talked to me. Otherwise I could have saved her.

TONIA:

(FRANTICALLY) I don't-I don't even know who you are?

SPADE:

My name is Sam. I'm a friend of Julie's.

TONIA:

She never mentioned-. (A BEAT) But, yeah, I think so. Listen, Sam, I don't know what it was. All I know is, Julie was tired of being poor. She always had big ideas. One day she just got up right in the middle of work with a raw fish still in her hand and went straight into Mr. Driscoll's office. I yelled after her, "Where are you going with that fish?" And she said, "I'm going to hit Bull Driscoll for a raise with it." And that's how it started.

SPADE:

I take it she got the raise.

TONIA:

And that's not all. Always before she was panning the boss, like we girls. But after that, stars in her eyes. And then she started receiving the presents. She thought he was that way about her. But some of the looks he gave her behind her back were as cold as those when they dig them out of the freezers in the Mexican boats.

SOUND:

(SIRENS START FADING ON FROM A DISTANCE)

SPADE:

Listen, Tonia, hear that siren? That's the cops. If they find us here they'll have us both down at the Hall half the night answering questions. So what do you say we finish this conversation somewhere else?

TONIA:

Where the cops are concerned, you don't have to ask me twice. Come On.

MUSIC: (BRIDGE AND TO B.G.)

SPADE:

I only got one more lead out of Tonia. The identity of the man in the snapshot stuck in Julie's mirror. His name was Chris Gorelli, and his address was aboard his boat at Fisherman's Wharf.

SOUND:

(STEPS ON CONCRETE: THEN JUMP TO HOLLOW WOODEN FLOAT: WATER SLOSH ACCOMPANIES STEPS ALONG THIS: THEN OUT)

SPADE:

Hello! Anyone aboard?

CHRIS:

(WELL OFF) Whaddya want?

SOUND:

STEPS JUMP TO BOAT: A FEW ON DECK: THEN OUT

CHRIS:

(CLOSER BUT STILL SLIGHTLY OFFSTAGE) Come on in the cabin if you want.

SPADE:

Thanks, I will. (MUSIC IN) He looked up at me as I came in. His bloodshot eyes were dull, as if with drink or grief or maybe both. He waved me a perch on the opposite bunk, then pressed his forehead into his hands, as if trying to squeeze the pain out of it.

CHRIS:

Phew! (COUGHS) Who are you?

SPADE:

The name is Spade. Here's my I.D.

CHRIS:

Private-. Who hired you?

SPADE:

Nobody.

CHRIS:

Meaning Bull Driscoll?

SPADE:

I don't know Driscoll. How well do you know him?

CHRIS:

Never met him. But maybe my luck will change.

SPADE:

You mean you've been trying to get to him?

CHRIS: Yeah. I been hanging around that cannery all day. He never showed.

SPADE: Did he have a reason to kill Julie?

CHRIS: (AFTER A BEAT) What was your interest in Julie?

SPADE:

I only saw her once. On a morgue slab. They'd tagged her Jane Doe. I didn't think the name suited her.

CHRIS:

Huh! I thought you guys only worked for money. Or you get some smart ideas from those glad rags she was wearing?

SPADE:

Okay, have it your way. Maybe it'll turn out to be smart after all. If a simple little girl like Julie could shake that much out of Driscoll, a smart boy like me should be able to really bleed him.

CHRIS:

(COUGHS) I don't get it.

SPADE:

What do you know about Driscoll?

CHRIS:

Smart operator. Took the pile he made running liquor during Prohibition and invested it in quick freezers. That way he don't wait for the tuna to run up here, he gets them in Mexican waters and brings them in frozen- the year around.

SPADE:

(MUSING) Yeah ... I'm going to hit Bull Driscoll with it for a raise..."

CHRIS:

Huh?

SPADE:

Does Customs ever get a look at those fish before they're unloaded?

CHRIS:

Fat lot of good it'd do. It'd take dynamite.

SPADE:

You mean they unload 'em and thaw "em out before they're inspected.

CHRIS:

Hey! You think he was running something in those fish and Julie was-

SPADE:

I don't know. All I know is Julie was dressed fit to kill. And I mean just that.

MUSIC:

BRIDGE AND TO BACKGROUND

SPADE:

I didn't tell him what else I thought. I left him to ponder that one while I headed for the nearest phone booth to dig out Bull Driscoll's home address. When I came out, I headed uptown walking just slow enough for a drunk man to tail me without too much trouble. He was still behind me when I leaned on the doorbell at 1133 Taylor, where the trail ended.

SOUND:

TRAFFIC B.C.: DOOR OPENED

BULL:

Good evening.

SPADE:

Mr. Driscoll?

BULL:

Right the first time.

SPADE:

You were Julie Armanda's employer?

BULL:

Right the second time. Come in.

SOUND:

STEPS: DOOR CLOSED: MORE STEPS UNDER

BULL:

We can talk in here. (STEPS OUT) Sit down. You're from the police, am I right?

SPADE:

You're only half-wrong.

BULL:

About the tragic shooting of Julie's mother. Correct?

SPADE:

You're still only half-wrong.

BULL:

I never met the family. But as far as Julie is concerned, I know her to be a fine girl. Never thought much of that fellow she's engaged to. Drunk. Given to violence. Made a scene at the cannery one time. Has he been questioned?

SPADE:

I talked to him.

BULL:

Bad apple, am I right?

SPADE:

You may be less than half-wrong on that one. But let's get off the dime. You know perfectly well that Julie is dead, am I right?

BULL:

Why do you say that?

SPADE:

You admit you know about the shooting of Julie's mother. Ergo, you read the papers. Ergo, you read the little item about the Jane Doe in the mutation mink and other glad rags. Ergo, you must have guessed who she was, since you brought her those clothes. Am I correct?

BULL:

Well... I admit I had my selfish reasons for not wanting to become embroiled. She's been despondent ever since I told her that... well... she'd mistaken my intentions ...understand what I mean?

SPADE:

Yes ... But not in the way you think I do. I think she committed suicide when she went into your office with that fish in her hand, and come out with a promotion.

BULL:

Uh huh! You're a shamus, am I right? With ideas, am I correct?

SPADE:

Just a couple of hunches.

BULL:

Your hunch is that Julie was blackmailing me. Well, you're wrong. She merely discovered a little irregularity that was going on one of my boats was a smuggler. You follow?

SPADE:

So far, I'm ahead of you.

BULL:

Then you'd better talk till I catch up.

SPADE:

Okay, I will. You've got a nice apartment here. Good taste. You don't strike me as the kind of a guy who would give a twenty thousand dollar wardrobe to a girl who obviously didn't know how to wear it. You're also smart enough to know that you could have got results a lot cheaper, if all you wanted was to keep her quiet for awhile.

BULL:

Then why did I do it. Tell me that.

SPADE:

I know how it worked. The cops never identified her because it never occurred to them that a girl dressed like that might just be a poor little girl in a fish cannery. They're probably still looking for a missing heiress, you really did have that body claimed and shipped to Minneapolis.

BULL:

(A BEAT) Say that again.

SPADE:

Biggest funeral you ever saw. Take care of you for life. Brother, you sure did.

BULL:

(BURSTS OUT LAUGHING)

SPADE:

(SHOUTS HIM DOWN) I'm glad you think it's funny. That makes it a lot easier. I don't think it's funny when a poor dumb old woman gets filled with lead because she wants to claim her daughter's body. I don't think it's funny, dressing a poor confused little dame up in the only fur coat she'd ever touched, so she could keep a date with her murderer.

BULL:

Quite a humanitarian, aren't you?

SOUND:

(A FEW STEPS)

SPADE:

I don't talk it very well. But I'll try and show you what I mean.

(SOUND: GRABS HIM AND PULLS HIM TO HIS FEET)

 

BULL:

(REACTS)

BULL & SPADE:

(ADLIB FIGHT)

SOUND:

(SCUFFLE AND FIGHT: BODY FALL AND CRASHING FURNITURE ON CUE)

SPADE:

(HEAVY BREATHING UNTIL)

SOUND:

(DOOR BUZZER: STEPS TO DOOR: DOOR OPENED)

SPADE:

You're a little late, Chris.

CHRIS:

Get out of my way.

SPADE:

Don't be an idiot.

CHRIS:

(PULLING AWAY) I know what I'm doing. (QUICK FADE) Leave me alone!

SPADE:

(STUMBLES) Don't do it, Chris! You don't-

SOUND:

(GUN EMPTIED: GUN THROWN)

CHRIS:

Okay, you can call the cops. I'm finished.

SPADE:

You stupid fool! I had him nailed.

CHRIS:

For what? He didn't kill Julie. I did. (A little pause) Yeah.

SPADE:

Why?

CHRIS:

You saw her; you said she was dressed to kill. Yeah, I got the wrong idea. (STARTS BREAKING) I thought I was losing her to a guy that could afford to dress her up like- When I saw her leave the house in those clothes ... on her way to meet him ... (SOBS INTO):

MUSIC:

(UP TO CLIMAX AND OUT)

SPADE:

Period. End of sob story.

EFFIE:

(SOBS)

SPADE:

Ef... I said end of sob story.

EFFIE:

It's not the story, Sam. It's you.

SPADE:

What did I do wrong?

EFFIE:

Nothing. That's it. You're just perfect, that's all. To give up all that time and money and sacrifice yourself so self- sacrificingly, all for a poor nameless girl, who wasn't even in a position to thank you.

SPADE:

True, Effie. All too bitterly true. But I'm just a tiny bit less wonderful than you think.

EFFIE:

(STOPS CRYING) You are?

SPADE:

That's better. Now dry off your notebook and go type that up. When you return, I will tell all.

EFFIE:

All right. Sam. (FADE) But if you think you're going to shatter my delusions...

MUSIC:

EFFIE:

(FADE ON) Here it is, Sam. And if you dare say one word against you ...

SPADE:

Perish forbid!

EFFIE:

But what is it that you so mistakenly think reflects to your dishonor?

SPADE:

What?!

EFFIE:

The all you were going to unburden to me because you're too modest to take credit (SOBS) for your good deeds.

SPADE:

I've decided you're right, Ef. I mustn't shatter your delusions.

EFFIE:

Please, Sam. So I can talk you out of it.

SPADE:

Well, I played it stupid, that was all.

EFFIE:

(STOPS CRYING) I know, Sam, but only to throw them off the scent.

SPADE:

Don't make excuses for me. I should have known all along that Driscoll didn't kill Julie. He was smart. He wouldn't have left that cheap little medallion on her.

EFFIE:

(FRESH SOBS)

SPADE:

Now, now... I wasn't that bad.

EFFIE:

No, Sam. It just proves all over again how wonderful you are. You cracked the case in spite of all the mistakes you made.

SPADE:

Okay, you win. Dry up and go home.

EFFIE:

(BLOWS NOSE) Goodnight, you sweet wonderful man.

SPADE:

(CLEARS THROAT) Goodnight, Sweetheart.

MUSIC:

UP TO FINAL CURTAIN