Boomerang! Page #3

I wish you'd stick your head out

just once to say something besides "no clues."

- Just a minute. My boys are doing everything-

- "No clues, no clues."

Keep on fighting among yourselves,

and you'll have...

every department in the city

at each other's throats.

- Wade would like that.

- Let's get down to cases.

Henry, Mac and I have decided

this thing is too big for us.

We need help.

The F.B.I. or-

- The F.B.I.?

- Yes.

- What's the matter with our own police?

- They're floundering.

You can't call in the F.B.I.

This is not a federal case.

- We don't even know who the murderer is.

- We've got to do something.

Look, we've got

a good police force.

One of the best in the country. Why don't you

back them up instead of yelling for help?

- That's what I say.

- I don't know if you've given this any consideration...

but the election

depends on this case.

Well, Mac, we promised them

a decent government.

- If we can't give it to them-

- It's a matter of principle.

- It's a matter of the police chasing their tails.

- I resent that!

I don't care whether you do or not.

As for this prattle about backing up our boys-

You're making a lot of fuss

for a commissioner of public works.

- I don't think you ought to say that.

- Stop it!

You sound like

a bunch of schoolgirls.

And what's your idea,

Henry?

Suppose our boys can't crack it?

Then what do we do?

Mac, if they don't,

I don't see how anyone else can.

It's that kind of a case. So why don't we

give them a fighting chance and back 'em up?

- I think he's right.

- I don't.

Henry is closer to this case

than any of us.

Mac, you told me

not over an hour ago-

I've changed my mind.

I respect Henry's judgment.

What about two weeks, Henry?

Do you think that's fair?

- And then what?

- Then we'll call in somebody else.

I don't know who,

but somebody. Right?

A beer, gentlemen?

That's very nice.

If this thing falls through,

I'm holding you personally responsible, Henry.

You're holding me?

Beer, gentlemen.

I don't care how you do it,

but you've got to get more action.

Put more men on,

get the state police, get anybody...

but we've got to get to

the bottom of this thing fast.

Is that clear?

Yeah, that's clear.

I was hoping I'd catch you.

I want to talk to you.

- I saw the mayor-

- You don't want to talk to me.

- The Lambert case, talk to White.

- Why should I talk to White?

He's taking over.

I quit.

- What's the matter?

- I used to be able to work one of these things.

- Come on, Robbie. What's the matter?

- Matter? Nothing.

Except it's turning into

a political three-ring circus.

And I'm no politician.

I'm a cop-

a cop with a case

that has no leads, no angles.

Newspapers want action,

okay, let them get another boy.

- Me, I'm through.

- The newspapers are chasing us all.

I told you that two weeks ago.

But they've been taking

potshots at you for 20 years.

Not with country club presidents

chewing me out every 20 minutes, they haven't.

Thomas Benson James.

- You're not quitting, Robbie.

- I'm not?

- Who's gonna stop me?

- You are.

- You're out of your head.

- No, I'm not.

You said it yourself.

You're a cop, and an honest one.

And you're walking out

on honest men.

If you're talking

about Thomas Benson James-

Yes, him too. They don't know

anything about politics much.

They're worried and excited,

but they are trying to help the city.

- They can do it without me.

- I don't think they can.

I was talking to them last night,

and I told them...

that if anybody could lick this case,

it would be you.

I even got them to promise

that they'd back you up...

without interference

for two more weeks.

- Two more weeks. Then what?

Call in Nick Carter? - Chief-

- I'm busy.

- I'm sorry, but what about these?

- I'm busy.

- What are they?

Newspaper cartoonist. The witnesses

all described the guy they saw to him.

- What are you gonna do with them?

- Circulate them, I guess.

"Circulate them, I guess"?

You've been on the force for 10 years...

a detective for three,

you still don't know what to do?

Get a composite photo of these

and send them to every editor in the East.

Excuse me.

And get moving.

- Yes, sir.

- We'll get 4,000 suspects.

Maybe. One of them

could be the right one.

Well, keep punching, Robbie.

- Hey, I wanna talk to you.

- I thought you'd see it my way, Robbie.

The chief of police

came close to the truth...

when he talked of the number of suspects

that would be picked up.

There weren't thousands, of course,

but a trickle started...

which swelled to a steady stream

as the manhunt fanned out...

to include neighboring cities,

the state and, finally, all of New England.

Okay, okay, I'll send a car.

The newspapers,

especially those like the Record...

which were trying to hold

the Reform Administration up to ridicule...

kept public interest

at a fever pitch...

until every man who wore a dark coat

or a light hat automatically became a suspect.

Mounting rewards by angry civic groups

added to the incentive...

until men were being turned up

from every walk of life...

who bore even the faintest resemblance

to the supposed murderer.

Okay. Yeah.

All right.

And actually,

there was very little for anyone to go on.

The clue of the dark coat

and light hat was slim enough...

and the nebulous figure conceived

in the minds of the seven witnesses...

and brought to life by an artist's pen

was hardly much more.

And it became increasingly apparent

that almost as great a problem...

for the police as

the capture of the murderer...

was to be the overzealousness

of the public.

All right. So he came out

of a poolroom. Who doesn't?

And still the phone rang

with ever-increasing frequency...

at police headquarters,

and still the prowl cars...

doggedly ran down every lead,

streaking across the city...

in search of a furtive figure

seen here, another seen there.

Something suspicious

about their actions, something said...

or the mere fact of wearing a dark coat

and a light hat.

And still men poured

into police headquarters.

Angry men, indignant men,

beaten men and dazed men.

Men with long

criminal records...

and simple men snatched

from peaceful pursuits...

all to be shoved into the glare

of the lineup platform...

scrutinized,

questioned and released...

in the forlorn hope

that one...

just one

of all these hundreds...

might be the man they sought.

Lady, sure,

don't give it a thought.

We'll have a prowl car

there right away.

- Don't say I never did nothing for you.

- What, no pie?

- Pie? What's the score, Dugan?

- Score? Eight-to-five against me.

These phones keep ringing

like a three-alarm fire.

They're shaking suspects

out of their sleeves.

More. They even picked up my Uncle Jerry

the other night, 64 years old.

Did he do it?

Police department. Sergeant Dugan.

Go ahead, Long Distance.

I bet the guy who done it

is still walking around very happy.

Now you're a detective.

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