A Slight Case of Murder Page #9

Come in, you guys, both of you.

Here.

- Come on. Drink this beer, all of you.

- Oh, boss, you know I don't drink beer.

I ain't drunk no beer

since I've been working for you.

Me neither, boss. My stomach.

Come on. You heard what I said.

Drink this beer.

Sure, sure, I'll try it. I like this beer.

What's the matter?

You don't look so good.

I'm all right now, boss.

I just got a stitch in my side

when I was drinking it.

Yeah, come on, you guys.

It's your turn now.

What's the matter? You look a little green.

I always turn a little green

this time of the year, boss.

Now, come on. Come on.

What do you think of it?

The beer, boss?

Well, that's what you just drunk, ain't it?

Sure, sure, it's beer all right.

It ain't bad, boss.

- Oh, it ain't bad, huh?

- No, it's pretty good beer.

Oh, pretty good. It ain't bad.

You know what I think?

You're all a bunch of cheap liars!

- I wouldn't say that boss.

- Why, it's the rottenest, vilest...

and most revoltingest stuff

you ever tasted, ain't it?

Come on, now. Speak up. Be on the level

with me. Speak up. Ain't it?

It's pretty bad, boss.

To tell you the truth boss,

it tastes like something that's turned.

Now, you, Mike, how do you feel?

Like I was cauterized.

Yeah, and yet you kept your mouths shut.

All the time, you guys knew that

Marco's Beer tasted like bottled shellac...

and yet you don't wise him up at all.

Not a peep out of you guys.

Yeah, you're supposed

to be Marco's friends...

and you don't wise him up at all.

We didn't want to hurt your feelings.

No, you rather see me go broke,

wouldn't you? And then in the gutter.

- Oh, no, boss.

- Yeah, but Marco ain't beat yet.

Now I know what's wrong.

Now I know why we ain't selling beer.

It's because we ain't got good beer.

What we need is somebody

who knows how to make beer. Good beer.

And starting right this minute...

I'm going to get myself

the best brewmaster in the country.

In the world!

And just you watch Marco go ahead.

- Ain't you forgetting something, boss?

- What?

That mortgage. You won't own

that brewery after tomorrow.

Yeah, that's right. Forgot that.

Who's that in the kitchen?

Look, boss. Look.

What is that, Douglas? Beer?

It ain't straw.

Well, now, look, Marco don't want

you should drink that no more.

Why not? We get it for nothing, don't we?

But it is not good for you, Douglas.

And Mr. Marco wants you

to watch your health...

so you'll be an athletic when you grow up.

Ain't that so, boss?

Yeah, Gip is right. Now you go on upstairs,

and Mike will bring you a sidecar.

I'll make it a double one, boss.

It'll save me some trips.

Look. What's this thing

sticking out of his pocket?

What?

- Must be the beer. I ain't seeing right.

- A grand note!

- $1,000 all in one piece.

- Sure, my pockets are full of them.

What? Now, look. Look, Douglas.

Marco wants you should tell him

where you got all these.

Upstairs, in my room. I look under my bed,

and there's a whole suitcase full of them.

- Well, come on. Show us.

- Sure.

Hey, you got all day, for crying out loud!

- All day.

- Where? Where is it?

Gee, that's funny.

I left it right out in the middle of the floor.

Now, show me the money, will you?

That's all Marco's worried about.

Where is it?

Somebody must've shoved it

back under the bed. Here it is.

There it is. Do you think that's it?

Well, I'll be a knave!

Say, Sad Sam's name is on this pack.

Boss, don't you get the angle?

- What?

- This must be the bookies' dough.

The mob that knocked over that truck

brought that money up here.

That's it, sure.

While they wait here for me...

one of their own guys

bumps off the other four.

But just as he's gonna leave,

Gip and Lefty drive up...

so he's gotta duck

and leave this hot stuff here.

Certainly.

I figure there's at least $500,000 here.

That's what Sad Sam says was tooken.

Boss, you ain't broke no more.

What, you mean all this dough

belongs to Marco now?

Why not? You rented the joint, didn't you?

Nobody else knows about it, do they?

Now, wait a minute.

All this dough belongs to the bookies.

Yeah, but Marco's beginning

to see the light.

Mike.

Here, you mugs, take this dough

downstairs to the library and stick with it.

Marco's gonna put over

the sweetest little job you ever seen.

- But, boss...

- Come on. You heard me.

Take it downstairs.

I've got to get to a telephone right away.

You heard him. Toss it in.

Look, lady, get me the Shawford Hotel.

I want to talk to Mr. Post and Mr. Ritter.

Hello?

Yes. Who?

Oh, hello, Remy.

What?

Well, that's exactly what I said.

You just better get over here right away.

You said it.

It certainly is most important, sweetheart.

- Hey, you got a pool table in this joint?

- No, it's too late for that.

You go to bed now.

You're a lifesaver, Douglas.

Now, listen, you guys...

if what Marco's gonna do goes over,

we'll all be out of the woods.

I'm expecting Post and Ritter. Get it?

- Them are the guys from the bank, ain't it?

- Right.

Now, as soon as they get here,

here's what I want you guys to do.

Hey, Mike, how about some more drinks?

Mike, where are you?

Hey, Kirk. Come here.

What's up?

Don't crack but I think I know

who stuck up the bookies' truck.

Look.

Say, that's the money wrapper

with your name on it.

- Yeah.

- Where'd you find it?

On the kitchen floor, just now.

Say, I'll bet Remy done that stickup.

Well, certainly, he did,

else how could this get here?

- He had no business doing that.

- No.

Of course, we're insured.

I know, but he shouldn't have done it.

- Is it nice to do that among friends?

- No, it ain't polite.

And him not saying a word to us about it.

I don't like him trying to outsmart us.

And he made out

like it was all news to him.

It's a bad sign,

trying to outsmart your friends.

Besides, there's a reward.

Say, I never thought of that.

Kirk, there ain't no two ways about it.

Much as we hate to do it,

we gotta put the law on him.

- You fellows wanted me?

- Yeah.

We got a job for you, copper.

We want you to put the arm

on Remy Marco.

- The arm?

- Arrest him, stupid.

You get the credit,

and we get the reward, see.

Arrest Mr. Marco? What for?

For sticking up the bookies' truck

this afternoon.

Mr. Marco, please. Mr. Post and Mr. Ritter.

Yeah, he's waiting for you's.

Come in. He's in the library.

But I can't do what you're asking me.

In the first place,

I don't think Mr. Marco likes me.

What's that gotta do with it?

Mr. Marco is a very impulsive man.

I don't think I want to arrest him.

But you're supposed to do your duty,

ain't you?

Yes, but I'm engaged to his daughter.

Most fellows would be glad

to put their father-in-laws in jail.

$60,000, $61,000...

Come in.

Them mugs...

Gents are here from the bank.

- $121,000, $122,000, $123,000.

- Hello, Remy.

Hello, boys. $124,000, $126,000.

Sit down, boys. $128,000, $129,000.

Got my note with you, boys? $134,000.

Remy, about that note of yours.

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