ANNCR:
Here is Richard Diamond - Private Detective, Starring DICK POWELL.
SOUND:
FOOT STEPS UP STEPS AND STOPPING...DOORBELL ON LAST TWO NOTES OF WHISLE . . . PAUSE AND DOOR OPENS:
FRAN:
Yes?
DICK:
You don't happen to have an old stretcher in your vest, do you, Francis?
FRAN:
Oh my goodness - Mr. Diamond
DICK:
In the flesh - a little mangled maybe. . . .
FRAN:
Oh come in, sir. Come in.
SOUND:
FOOTSTEPS IN
DICK:
Thank you, Francis.
SOUND:
DOOR CLOSE
FRAN:
Shall I get you some steak for that eye, sir?
DICK:
No, thanks. Just run along and tell Miss Asher that sweet and bloody is here again.
HELEN:
Rick, is that you?
DICK:
That's a good question.
SOUND:
FOOTSTEPS FADE IN ON CARPET
HELEN:
(FADES IN) Oh no.
DICK:
Well you might be right, but if it's not me, what are you doing with a strange man in your house? You know how jealous I am.
HELEN:
Francis.
FRAN:
(FADES) Iodine and bandages - yes, Miss Helen.
DICK:
Florence Nightingale in a dicky.
HELEN:
Stop wisecracking and come in to the study.
DICK:
Yes, ma'am.
SOUND:
FOOTSTEPS ON CARPET
SOUND:
FOOTSTEPS STOP
HELEN:
Now sit down
DICK:
Yes, ma'am.
SOUND:
PIANO BENCH
HELEN:
Not at the piano. Right here on the couch.
DICK:
Don't you want a little music? (PIANO DOODLES) Something in the background while you're performing surgery? Something like a . . . a . . . The more I sew you!
HELEN:
Rick.
MUSIC:(PIANO PLAYS )
DICK:
I sewed you last night and got that old feeling?
HELEN:
Oh, Dick. Move over.
SOUND:
FOOTSTEPS FADE THE CLINK OF BOTTLES
FRAN:
(FADES IN) Here you are, Miss Helen - iodine and bandages.
HELEN:
Just put them on the table, Francis.
FRANCIS:
Yes, Miss, (SOUND: TRAY ON TABLE)
Will that be all?
HELEN:
Yes - Thank you, Francis. Now. . .
SOUND:
FOOTSTEPS FADE
DICK:
Wait, Helen, wait - take it easy.
HELEN:
Come here.
DICK:
No iodine. Not yet. Err, let me got used to the idea first.
HELEN:
All right, Sissy. Well, tell me how it happened.
DICK:
Oh it's a sordid story. Full of my heroic deeds. You really wouldn't be interested.
HELEN:
Suit yourself.
DICK:
It would take too long. Besides you know how modest I am.
HELEN:
All right.
DICK:
I'd feel like I was bragging.
HELEN:
Forget about it.
DICK:
Well the whole thing started three days ago . . .
MUSIC:
(SPEAK OVER PIANO)
HELEN:
You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.
DICK:
I was sitting in my office shooting paper clips at a King size horse fly. It was a little sadistic but he was bigger than I was. Well about the time I had him down on his knees begging for mercy, the door opened . . .
SOUND:
DOOR OPENS
MUSIC:
OUT
BEEK:
(OFF) Mr. Diamond.
DICK:
Oh you let him out! He'll be back with re-enforcements.
BEEK:
Who?
DICK:
Forget it. He was yellow anyway. Come in.
SOUND:
DOOR CLOSE AND FOOTSTEPS FADE IN
BEEK:
(FADES IN) My name's Beeker. Nathan Beeker. You don't know me, but -
DICK:
You're an attorney for one of the biggest gangsters in the country. I know all about you. Mr. Beeker.
BEEK:
I no longer represent the syndicate, Mr. Diamond.
BEEK:
I'm in danger of being killed.
DICK:
I charge a hundred a day and expenses, Mr. Beeker.
BEEK:
I know all about you too, Diamond.
DICK:
You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I deny ever knowing that snake charmer.
BEEK:
I want you to keep something for me. For three days, I want you to keep it and guard it with your very life.
DICK:
What is it?
SOUND:
ENVELOPE
BEEK:
This envelope. I want you to be fully aware of just what you might be letting yourself in for. In this envelope is enough evidence against George Black to send him to Sing Sing for ninety years.
DICK:
Well - couldn't you just leave me an old bundle of dynamite instead?
BEEK:
If you've been reading the papers you probably know that three days from now I' m supposed to testify before the investigating committee . . . . .
DICK:
Yeah, I read something about it.
BEEK:
Well, George Black knows I can expose him and the word is out to get me.
DICK:
Why not turn this evidence over to the police and ask for protection?
BEEK:
As long as I have that evidence and Black knows if anything happens to me it would get to the police, I'm safe.
DICK:
And you want me to hang on to it for three days.
BEEK:
Yes - then I've made arrangements to leave the country.
DICK:
Okay, Mr. Beeker I'll take care of the envelope for three days, but I want a retainer.
BEEK:
I'll give you the whole three hundred, just in case something happens.
DICK:
Beeker handed me three crisp one hundred dollar bills, his number, shook my hand and left the office. I looked at the large envelope and thought about George Black. I'd known Black when I was on the force - even then he was a big man with the syndicates. Well, one fourth man, three fourths, rat. If he knew Beeker had given me the envelope, I could stop planning for my old age. I was still looking at the envelope when I heard someone moving around in the hall - I looked up and saw the shadow of a man silhouetted against the glass section of my door. I pulled out a desk drawer, grabbed some scotch tape and stuck the envelope to the bottom of the drawer.
SOUND:
DRAWER SHUT AND DOOR OPENS, DOOR CLOSE
FOOTSTEPS FADE IN OMINOUSLY
DICK:
The skin on my neck tried to crawl down my back - the man who walked into my office was Martin Fletcher - George Black's happy little trigger man.
SOUND:
FOOTSTEPS STOP
FLETCH:
You Diamond?
DICK:
Yeah.
FLETCH:
You just had a visitor.
DICK:
I did?
FLETCH:
He left something with you.
DICK:
You've been peeking.
FLETCH:
Let's have it.
DICK:
Have what?
SOUND:
FOOTSTEPS
FLETCH:
(FADES) I'm not going to play with you.
DICK:
Then give me back, my jacks.
FLETCH:
Stop with the funnies and hand it over.
DICK:
Honest, friend, I don't know what you're talking about.
FLETCH:
You don't want me to spend a lot of time looking for it, do you?
DICK:
Not if it's going to make you grouchy.
FLETCH:
If I spend a lot of time lookin' for it - what are you going to be doing?
DICK:
I'll help if you like.
FLETCH:
Naw, I'll do better by myself .Are you going to tell me where it is?
DICK:
If I knew what you were talking about.
FLETCH:
Okay, so I waste my time, and tear the joint apart.
DICK:
Want me to turn my back?
FLETCH:
Naw - you just take a nap.
DICK:
Wait, . I (SOUND: SMACK). . .Uah .
AND CHAIR TOPPLES
MUSIC:
(HIT AND UNDER)
DICK:
He brought his big gun down across my troubled brow and dropped me into that black hole that seems to always show up when somebody splits my poor soft skull. I fell like a loose barbell in a mine shaft - down into a whirlpool of sickly, swirling colors. I landed with a splash and the colors swallowed me up - separated and ran into a dozen striped midgets each carrying a big green gun and singing a flat version of "Saint James Infirmary". I remember thinking, for a guy who gets knocked out so frequently, I was amazed how original I'd managed to keep my unconscious world. I experienced a variety of apparitions too nerve wracking to reconstruct and when they finally marched off I staggered to my knees - and found myself to be alone in the middle of a pile of furniture.
I pulled out the desk drawer and found to my disgust that he hadn't found the envelope. It was still stuck to the bottom of the drawer and now looked like an obituary notice. I pulled myself up, sat on the desk and dialed Nathan Beeker's phone number.
SOUND:
DIALING NUMBERS . . .BUZZ ON FILTER
DICK:
(SINGING TO HIMSELF) What a day this has been, what a rare mood I'm in - Why it's almost like being embalmed . . .
SOUND:
CLICK OF FILTER
BETH:
(FILTER) Hello?
DICK:
Is Mr. Beeker there?
BETH:
Who's calling?
DICK:
Richard Diamond.
BETH:
Oh yes, Mr. Diamond - This is Mrs. Beeker Nathan!...He should be, . .oh wait a minute.
(PAUSE) Yes, he Just came in. Hold on.
SOUND:
RECEIVER DOWN ON FILTER?PAUSE?RECEIVER PICKED UP
BEEK:
(FILTER) Yes, Diamond. Something wrong?
DICK:
Nothing that wouldn't cause a mortician's eyes to light up. One of George's boys just paid me a visit.
BEEK:
He knew I'd been there?
DICK:
He certainly did and he wanted the envelope.
BEEK:
You didn't give it to him?
DICK:
He was persistent in a physical sort of way but I still have the ugly little thing.
BEEK:
That's bad. He'll tell Black he couldn't find it. If Black knows you've got it . . .
DICK:
How could he know?
BEEK:
Even if he thinks you might have it . . .
DICK:
Let's relieve his mind. You take it back -- I'll keep just enough money for a bandage and we'll call it square.
BEEK:
Well, it's certainly no good you're keeping it. If Black suspects you might have it . . .
DICK:
Why don't you eliminate the possibility of a funeral and turn it over to the police like a good little lawyer?
BEEK:
I guess that's the best move! I don't want to go to your office again.
DICK:
It's to your house,
BEEK:
I'll meet you somewhere.
DICK:
Somewhere safe - a nice quiet little spot surrounded by patrolling leopards.
MUSIC IN AND UNDER
DICK:
Beeker agreed to meet at a place about two miles off the main highway to Connecticut. I drove for a good forty minutes until I spotted the turn off - I swung left and hit a stretch of dirt road then drove two miles until my lights picked out Beeker's car and I pulled up next to him.
SOUND:
CAR STOPS
DICK:
Beeker?
BEEK:
Yes,
SOUND (MOTOR TURNED OFF CAR DOOR OPEN CRICKETS CHIRPING)
BEEK:
(FADES IN) You took your time. I've been waiting twenty minutes.
DICK:
I had to come a little further than you did.
BEEK:
Well, let's have the envelope - this place gives me the creeps... now
DICK:
Look before I give you this thing there's something I want to ask you.
BEEK:
Mr. Diamond, you just keep your retainer and forget about bout the whole thing.
FLETCH:
No reason to argue - just give it to me.
BEEK:
Wha. . .?? Oh, no.
SOUND:
FOOTSTEPS FADE IN
BEEK:
Fletcher, wait a minute --
FLETCH:
(FATES IN) Mr. Black has been worried about that envelope, Mr. Beeker.
(SOUND: FOOTSTEPS STOP) Had it all the time, huh, Diamond?
DICK:
Cross my heart and hope - oh, I take it back.
FLETCH:
Let's have it,
BEEK:
Now look Fletcher, we can make a deal.
FLETCH:
The envelope, Diamond.
BEEK:
I'll give you five thousand, Fletcher.
FLETCH:
Give it to me, Diamond. Hold it.
DICK:
I'm not going for a gun. The envelope's in my pocket.
FLETCH:
You come up with anything but the envelope and you'll be sorry.
DICK:
I...
BEEK:
Fletcher, listen to me . . . .
FLETCH:
Shut up,
DICK:
Here you are.
SOUND:
ENVELOPE
FLETCH:
Okay, You shouldn't have lied to me, Diamond.
DICK:
Well I'm really very?hey wait.
SOUND:
SMACK, crash.
SOUND:
BODY FALLS - SMACK . . .Unrnn . . . SMACK . . .Uah. . .
SMACK SMACK SMACK
MUSIC:
DICK:
There it was again - that disgustingly familiar deep black hole - the whole works - this time I made a mental note to tell Disney about it - I thought about my psychiatrist too, but I knew what he'd say -"Richard, you've just got to stop getting hit on the head." I don't know how long I was out this time, but when I slowly pulled myself back I thought at first part of the dream had stayed with me. I lay on my side in the road and the whole sky seemed to burn with a brilliant yellow light. I closed my eyes to make it go away, then I heard it,. . . the sound of flames - a fire! I pulled myself up and saw that Beeker was gone - I staggered in the direction of the fire - down the road, and up a small hill. The fire was burning below me - it was Beeker's car, resting on its back where it had rolled - the flames roaring up around it - the charred arm of a man hanging out of the window.
MUSIC: (SECOND ACT - Over and Under),
DICK:
I tried to get near the burning car but it was no good, so I climbed back up the hill, and headed for the highway where I found a phone and called Walt at the fifth precinct. Two hours later after the fire department got to the scene and the wagon hauled what was left of Beeker down to the morgue, Walt and I sat talking in his office.
WALT:
I'm having George Black picked up now -- Got a call out on Martin Fletcher.
DICK:
Gimme' some of that coffee, will ya?
WALT:
Sure.
SOUND:
CLICK OF CUP
DICK:
I still can't figure how Fletcher got out on that road.
WALT:
Followed Beeker.
SOUND:
POURING COFFEE
DICK:
Couldn't have. When Fletcher worked me over the first time, he took my office apart and when I woke up he was gone - all in all I was out for about ten minutes.
WALT:
(SOUND: CLICK OF CUP) Sugar?
DICK:
The usual.
WALT:
We only got ten lumps.
DICK:
Well, that will do. - Thanks.
SOUND:
(DRAWER OPENS)
WALT:
Now where's that bicarbonate? Oh,
SOUND (OPEN DRAWER AND CLOSE . . . CLINK OF GLASS AND POURING WATER)
WALT:
Ahhh.
SOUND:
GLASS DOWN
DICK:
You take enough soda to neutralize a volcano.
WALT:
Yeah. . .So you were only out ten minutes?
DICK:
No more. I was just thinking. Beeker lives a good thirty minutes from my office. When I arrived, Beeker said he'd been waiting twenty minutes. His house is another ten minutes to that place on the road. Took me forty minutes to get there - so Beeker must have left his house ten minutes after I'd called.
WALT:
So Fletcher couldn't have tailed Beeker out to the spot.
DICK:
Not unless he had wings.
WALT:
Ever think he might have hung around just tailed you?
DICK:
Walter, he was already there.
WALT:
Maybe somebody told him where Beeker was going.
DICK:
Who?
WALT:
Beeker's Wife?
DICK:
I thought about that.
WALT:
She's down in the morgue with Otis, making an identification on the burned body.
DICK:
Poor girl.
SOUND (BUZZ AND CLICK)
WALT: Yeah
ED:
(FILTER) We've got George Black downstairs, lieutenant,
WALT:
Hold him. (SOUND: CLICK)
WALT:
Got Black downstairs
DICK:
I heard. I want to talk to him.
DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES . . . FOOTSTEPS FADE IN
OTIS:
(FADES ON) I got Mrs. Beeker outside, lieutenant.
WALT:
What about Mrs. Beeker?
OTIS:
Oh --- She identified the body as belonging to her husband Goorge Beeker - pretty hard to tell much with what was left.
DICK:
That's a tasty way of putting it.
OTIS:
But the ring and the watch clinched it. She's' outside- she ain't feeling so well.
DICK:
That's strange -- leaving one corpse and walking up here with another one.
OTIS:
Now you stop that, Shamus.
WALT:
Lay off, Rick. (SWEETLY) Otis, go bring in Mrs Beeker, huh?
OTIS:
Ohhh. . .
WALT:
OTIS!
OTIS:
Yes sir.
SOUND:
FOOTSTEPS OUT FAST . . . DOOR OPENS
OTIS:
Right in here, Mrs. Beeker.
WALT:
Come in, Mrs. Beeker.
SOUND:
DOOR CLOSE, FOOTSTEPS FADE IN. CHAIR SCRAPES
WALT:
This is Mr. Diamond.
BETH:
How do you do.
WALT:
Mrs. Beeker. I'll try to make this as brief as possible.
(CHAIR SCRAPE) I understand you identified the body.
BETH:
Yes - it was Nathan.
DICK:
You could tell?
BETH:
Yes -- I'm certain. Then there was the watch and the ring, they belonged to Nathan.
WALT:
Did you know your husband was going to meet Mr. Diamond before he was killed?
BETH:
No - he didn't say where he was going. He'd been acting very strangely for the past week.
DICK:
Did he tell you he'd been to see me earlier today?
BETH:
No -- I didn't even know he knew you,
WALT:
Do you know why anyone would want to kill him?
BETH:
No - no, I don't know why - please, can't I go home?
WALT:
All right, Mrs. Beeker. (SCRAPE), I'll have a man drive you.
WALT:
See that Mrs. Beeker gets home.
OTIS:
(FURTHER OFF) Yes sir.
WALT:
Goodbye
BETH:
Goodbye
BETH:
Goodbye, Mr. Diamond.
DICK:
Goodnight, Mrs. Beeker.
WALT:
Tough
SOUND:
DOOR CLOSES
DICK:
Let's go down and talk to George Black.
MUSIC:
BRIDGE
SOUND:
DOOR CLOSE AND FOOTSTEPS INTO ROOM
GEORGE:
(FADES IN) Well - how are you, Lieutenant? And Mr. Diamond., how are you?
WALT:
Better than Nathan Beeker. He was killed.
GEORGE:
You don't say?
WALT:
A couple of hours ago, Black.
WALT:
Shot, piled in his car, run off a cliff - and caused quite a fire.
GEORGE:
Well, don't look at me.
DICK:
It's alright Black, we have strong stomachs.
GEORGE:
Still the funny man.
DICK:
Yeah - And you're going to love this one. A friend of yours killed Beeker.
GEORGE:
Now who could that be?
DICK:
Little Boy Blue! Fletcher, as if you didn't know!
GEORGE:
Fletcher, huh? - Looks like he worked your face over a little, too.
DICK:
He was after something Beeker had - evidence that would put you away for life.
GEORGE:
Oh, now I don't think Beeker really had anything like that.
DICK:
Fletcher said you sent him
GEORGE:
That's pretty weak, Shamus
DICK:
See how weak it is when I testify on the stand.
GEORGE:
Now look boys you're not playing with a punk kid . . .
DICK:
You look, thief.
GEORGE:
You're going to be sorry for that, Diamond.
DICK:
I said thief- you want to do something about it?
GEORGE:
Plenty of time
DICK:
All right - get this, your boy Fletcher came into my office - threw a gun on me , worked me over because he said you sent him - Nathan Beeker came in and told me he was afraid you were going to have him killed - Tonight I met Beeker and Fletcher showed up with his big gun again - he put me to
GEORGE:
(PAUSE) Well, go ahead.
WALT:
What's the matter, Rick?
DICK:...sleep, and when I . . .
DICK:
You say you had nothing to do with it, Black?
GEORGE:
That's right.
DICK:
Then tell us where we can find Fletcher.
GEORGE:
I don't go stoolin' on nobody.
DICK:
All right, then hang - Fletcher's got you in a spot.
GEORGE:
He lives on 64th Street. Alton Arms.
DICK:
Come on, Walt. (FOOTSTEPS ON)
GEORGE:
Can I go now?
WALT:
You stay put. (DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES)
WALT:
Something's eating you, Rick. What is it?
DICK:
Answer me something. If Fletcher killed Beeker, why didn't he kill me? (PAUSE) That's a good one, huh?
WALT:
Well...
DICK:
Look, you go over and check on Fletcher, then meet me at Mrs. Beeker's house.
WALT:
Well...
DICK:
That's what I like - snap decisions!
DICK:
Just a hunch, and all the way out to Beeker' s house I to pick my hunch to pieces, but no matter I still came up with the same thing --I rolled up the long circular driveway and a few minutes later, I was sitting in the Beeker living room, talking with Mrs. Beeke She'd been crying a lot - but she was still very beautiful.
BETH:
Couldn't this wait until tomorrow, Mr. Diamond?
DICK:
Sorry, Mrs. Beeker. I know how tough it's been.
BETH:
It's just terrible. I don't know what to do!
DICK:
Mr. Beeker provided for you didn't he?
BETH:
That's not a very pleasant subject at the moment, Mr. Diamond My husband is dead.
DICK:
I just thought I'd save you the trouble of telling the police - routine question - they'll ask you at the inquest, anyway.
BETH:
I believe my husband provided for me - he's made good money.
DICK:
Insurance, maybe?
BETH:
Why yes, I believe he had some.
DICK:
Probably a pretty large policy.
BETH:
I think it is.
DICK:
You know, there's something awfully funny about this thing.
BETH:
What do you mean, Mr. Diamond?
DICK:
Well a man named Fetcher works for George Black.
BETH:
My husband was afraid Black would try to kill him.
DICK:
Fletcher met me and your husband out on the road - knocked me unconscious again - when I woke up, he'd killed your husband and shoved the car over the cliff.
BETH:
Please, can't I hear about this tomorrow?
DICK:
I think you can help me.
BETH:
But I don't know what you're getting at.
DICK:
Fletcher couldn't have followed him because he was already out there. He couldn't have followed and he couldn't have gotten to your house in time to see your husband leave.
BETH:
Are you suggesting that I might have . . .?
DICK:
No, but somebody told him where we were going to meet-- he had time to get there, but not to follow us. Fletcher knew I knew him. Could identify him. Why didn't he kill me?
BETH:
I don't know - and I don't know what you're getting at. Now if you don't mind . . .
DICK Just one more question, Mrs. Beeker.
BETH:
All right.
DICK:
When I called your husband this afternoon, I talked to you, didn't I?
BETH:
Yes.
DICK:
At the station you said you didn't even know your husband knew me.
BETH:
That's right.
DICK:
But when I told you my name over the phone, you knew who I was.
BETH:
I did no such thing.
DICK:
'fraid you did. You said, "Oh yes, Mr. Diamond".
BETH:
Well perhaps I thought I know the name.
DICK:
Um hum. You know what I think, Mrs. Beeker?
BETH:
I'm not really interested in what you think, Mr. Diamond. I'd like you to leave.
DICK:
I think someone wanted me to identify Fletcher as, your husband's killer - I don't think Fletcher killed your husband.
BETH:
Well, someone certainly did.
DICK:
I think someone wanted the police to think George Black was behind it - might even have hired Fletcher unknown to Black.
BETH:
How can I possibly help with all this?
DICK:
Who would benefit by a stunt like that? George Black blamed for instigating the killing - a big insurance policy...
BETH:
Diamond - I'm sick and tired of this.
BEEK:
(OFF) Forget it Beth.
BETH:
Nathan.
DICK:
Well, hello Mr. Beeker. You don't even look singed.
BEEK:
I didn't credit you with this much sense, Diamond.
DICK:
I'm a smarty, huh?
(FOOTSTEPS FADE IN ON CARPET)
BETH:
What are we going to do?
BEEK:
We're going to do just as we planned.
DICK:
Wait until your wife gets the insurance money, then live in comfort somewhere out of the states?
BEEK:
Go get your coat, Beth. I want you to drive the car.
BETH:
Where are we going?
BEEK To show, Mr. Diamond the river.
BETH:
Nathan.
BEEK:
Go get your coat.
BETH:
All right. (FOOTSTEPS FADE)
BEEK:
Now we all go out to the garage. Go ahead - I'd hate to shoot you hero.
DICK:
Yeah - think of the clean rug.
BEEK:
To the front door. (FOOTSTEPS)
DICK:
Fletcher was the body in the burning car.
BEEK:
Yes.
DICK:
You hired him to throw the blame on Black.
BEEK:
Of course - down the hall,
DICK:
You're really a pretty messy guy, Beeker.
BEEK:
You won't have to worry about it long.
FOOTSTEPS STOP
BEEK:
Open the door. (DOOR OPENS)
DICK:
After you.
BEEK:
Oh get out.
DICK:
Temper, temper. (FOOTSTEPS OUT ON GRASS. CAR FADES IN COMING UP DRIVE)
BEEK:
Stop.
DICK:
Here come the Marines. (CAR COMES TO SLIDING STOP)
BEEK:
Get out of sight. Get out or I'll.(CAR DOOR OPENS)
WALT:
(OFF) That you Rick?
DICK:
Look out, Walt! (STRUGGLE AND GUN SHOT. RUNNING FADES IN)
STRUGGLE
BEEK:
No - no let me go. Let....
DICK:
Get his gun.
WALT:
Got it.
OTIS:
(FADES IN RUNNING)
DICK: The wife, Otis -upstairs in the house .
OTlS:
RUNNING:FADES OUT
SOUND:
FIGHT FINALLY BLOW AND BODY FALLS
DICK:
(BREATHING HARD) Now Mr. Beeker is all yours, Walt.
WALT:
Beeker? But he's dead!
DICK:
So's Otis, but you got used to it. Be happy, I'll tell you about the whole thing as soon as I powder my bruises.
MUSIC:
(BRIDGE INTO PIANO NOODLING)
DICK:
Beeker confessed the whole thing and he and his wife are getting a first hand look at the inside of a jail cell. Well, there it is - wasn't I brave?
HELEN:
Beeker just wanted to disappear so he wouldn't have to testify and George Black couldn't get him?
DICK:
You've solved the case - good girl.
HELEN:
And with the insurance money they could have lived the rest of their lives in comfort.
DICK:
Simply brilliant.
HELEN:
I like it. I was just thinking . . .
12 DICK:
Don't look at me like that. My insurance policy wouldn't take care of a dented fender.
HELEN:
Silly - now you sit still while I put this iodine on your cuts.
DICK:
How about a good stiff drink of yogurt I may faint.
HELEN:
After I fix your face.
DICK:
It won't do any good. That horsefly will be back in my office tomorrow with a sling shot.
HELEN:
Yes, dear . . .now hold still . . .
DICK:
Ohhhh, the pain. Did you ever do any branding?
HELEN:
Oh stop being a big baby.
DICK:
I like babies.
HELEN:
So I hear.
DICK:
All kinds - five pounders - a hundred and fifteen pounders. owwww! That idodine hurts!
HELEN:
Well, you deserve it.
DICK:
Oh look at the picture on the bottle. Sergeant Otis, looks like he lost a little weight.
HELEN:
I'd better get you that drink.
DICK:
George.
HELEN:
George?
DICK:
Musicians talk - very hep.
PIANO DOODLE
HELEN (JOKE) Musician!
DICK:
Go get the drink.
HELEN:
(LAUGHS) (FOOTSTEPS FADE)
MUSIC:
PIANO PLAYS "IT HAD TO BE YOU"
DICK SINGS
HELEN:
That's a beautiful song.
DICK: Gimmie that juice, woman - I'm having one of my vertigo spells
HELEN:
Here.
DICK:(DRINKS) Aaaaaaaaaa.
HELEN:
Alright?
DICK:
George!
HELEN:
What is this George business?
DICK:
It means - Great, the best.
HELEN:
Oh you mean, like crazy!
DICK:
Yeah - come here.
HELEN:
Be careful of your face.
DICK:
You be careful of my face - it's coming at you. (KISS)
HELEN:
mmmmm
HELEN:
Dick.
DICK:
Hmm?
HELEN:
GEORGE!
(MUSIC FADES)