Harper Page #3

Your friend stay around here now?

Oh, you really are jealous.

Oh, baby!

The green-eyed dragon!

Oh, Ralph's much older than you, baby.

And he's in Vegas,

and, besides, now I only

do his astrological charts

and a little interior decorating.

I did his room in the hotel. Oh,

I wish I could show it to you.

I have this fabulous taste.

You got everything, baby.

Now, who is this fella Ralph?

Oh! He's my oldest friend.

But he's not a nice man.

He...

He's gotten to be a very kinky personality.

- Kinky?

- Kinky is British for weird, you...

Weird. You know what I mean?

Say, you're a real pistol.

- Be back in a sec.

- Oh...

You're supposed to be looking for Daddy.

Come on, get her out of here, will you?

That happens to be a

hard night's work, buddy.

Say, Mrs. Sampson's been calling.

She wants to get your advice.

- About what?

- She got a special delivery...

She got a special delivery letter from Daddy.

He told her to tell Albert

to cash in some bonds

and get some money ready.

About half a million, cash.

- Are you kidding?

- That's what it said.

- Is she sure it's your father's writing?

- Of course.

- Well, you better get the money.

- And then?

Wait.

Till somebody gives us proof

your father's still alive.

It's a possibility, so

you might as well face it.

Why don't you get her bedded down?

No, you're no Mexican. I know

Mexicans, and you're no Mexican.

- No, you're a phony Mexican.

- Hey, what's the trouble, dumpling?

They don't wanna play La Cucaracha,

and I do La Cucaracha like nothing!

What do you know? You...

Honey, he ain't got no guitar.

Well, if he was a real

Mexican, he'd have a guitar.

- Where do you live?

- Why?

'Cause if I don't grab you

pretty soon, I'm gonna get sick.

Oh, I live in the Pacific

Palisades. 118 Woodlawn Lane.

- I'm gonna drive you home.

- All right. I'm ready. I feel great!

Help!

Don't try to do anything to me

tonight, dumpling. Everything's tilting.

Some other time. Any other time.

- Yeah?

- Mr. Troy?

This is Betty. Is Fay there?

Listen, I heard she was in the Bel-Air

a while ago, smashed, with some guy.

We don't want him at the house

when the truck goes through,

so get rid of him.

- Where are you?

- The Piano Bar. Where else would I be?

Is Ralph Sampson there?

All right, who is this?

I beg you not to do

anything foolish, old stick.

- Is that thing loaded?

- Six times.

Oh, boy.

- Who are you?

- Oh, beauty before age, old stick.

Well, I'm Miss Estabrook's

escort for the evening. I...

And I see the light on in

Miss Estabrook's bedroom.

What were you doing in there?

I didn't go in there. I swear I didn't.

No, she had to go to the...

Yeah, well, she never could hold her liquor.

Boy, that's shocking treatment.

Ain't nothing like this ever happen in Texas.

Oh, you all from Texas, huh?

Why are you interested in

an old bag of worms like her?

She's not an old bag of worms.

She's the sexiest thing I ever seen.

Well, I disagree, but then, you

see, I am married to Miss Estabrook

and I know whereof I speak.

See what I mean?

Now, my name is Dwight Troy.

I don't think you ever

specified what your name was.

My name is Lewis Harper. I sell insurance.

I didn't know she was married.

I'd sure like to get out of here.

Oh, relax, old stick. I

am not the jealous type.

You want her, you can have her.

But I do not like strangers in my house.

So I don't think I'd better

see you around here anymore.

Is that a threat?

Oh, is it ever, old stick. Now you get along.

You know a place called Piano?

Yeah. Yeah, sure.

But I don't think you wanna go there, mister.

Oh, well, I'm a swinger.

- Lew Harper.

- Betty Fraley.

Nice sound you lay down.

Don't put me on. You're probably tone-deaf.

Maybe, but I got every side you ever cut.

You're not very hip, but I believe you.

Except you got cop's eyes.

Narcotics?

Listen, I did my time. I'm straight now.

- What are you after?

- Ralph Sampson.

I know your voice.

You said you were Troy.

What about Sampson?

- I don't know him.

- I think you do.

And I think I can convince my

friends on the narcotics squad

that those tracks are fresh.

All right, I know him.

He comes in here sometimes and gets drunk.

He's a drunk, and all drunks look alike.

- What else you know?

- Nothing.

- Come on.

- Nothing.

- Come on!

- Nothing!

Puddler.

He's fuzz, Puddler. Private.

Wise guys. Always making waves.

I'm gonna teach you.

Hot damn! I did it!

Hey, Harper. Hey, you see that?

Harper? You all right?

Sure you are. Come on.

Hey, you know, this

detective work is really fun.

- Oh, boy.

- Come on. Let's get out of here.

Wait a minute. Wait...

Can you make it?

- Where'd you come from?

- I got Miranda bedded down.

So I talked one of my buddies out of a car

and started hitting some of Sampson's spots.

This joint was one of them. I was

coming in when you were going out.

Well, I'm in your debt, Beauty.

- Where you parked?

- Oh, across the street.

Hey, you really think Sampson was kidnapped?

- Who'd do it?

- I don't know.

A guy named Troy, maybe

a woman named Estabrook.

- Come on, let's go.

- Where to?

Back to the first place I

got thrown out of tonight.

What's this place all about?

That Fraley broad said something

about a truck coming through

and somebody didn't want me around.

Maybe 'cause Sampson's in it.

- Do you want me to break that down?

- You want to?

- You really mean it?

- Go ahead.

Hot damn!

Yeah, detective work is

really fun. Come on. Come on.

Oh, boy. That hurt a little

bit? That hurt a little bit?

You know how to use this?

Oh, I prefer a Thompson, actually,

but this'll do in a pinch.

You dirty rat!

- "You gave that man oranges?"

- Okay. You all through?

If that truck should come through, or

anybody else, let me know, will you?

Some other time, dumpling.

- What happened?

- It's the truck.

I was trying to blow a tire.

Hey, Lew. You all right?

I'm awful tired of answering that question.

You sure the handwriting is his?

That moronic scrawl is unforgettable.

It's not unlikely your husband's

been kidnapped, Mrs. Sampson.

Kidnapping is a federal offense.

I'm well aware of that, Mr. Harper,

but please don't bother suggesting

that we bring in the police.

Kidnapping is a federal offense.

I'm not sure my husband's business

dealings are completely legal.

Not all of them, anyway.

You may be jumping to conclusions.

For all we know,

Ralph may be planning

a round-the-world jaunt

with some happy harlot and

needs some spending money.

I think your husband's been kidnapped.

I think that note was dictated.

Your husband keeps lousy

company, Mrs. Sampson,

as bad as there is in LA.

And that's as bad as there is.

I knew it.

Oh, he loves playing the family

man, but he never fooled me.

Water seeks its own level,

and that should leave Ralph bathing

happily somewhere in a sewer.

Daddy may be dead, and you're crowing.

I don't believe it's the

children's hour yet, darling.

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