Laura Page #2

No, he doesn't know,

and neither do I...

- or you or anyone else alive.

- What do you mean by that?

Laura had not definitely made up

her mind to marry him.

She told me so herself last Friday when she

called up to cancel our dinner engagement.

As a matter of fact, she was going

to the country to think it over.

She was extremely kind,

but I was always sure...

she would never have thrown her life

away on a male beauty in distress.

I suppose you've heard

losers whine before...

especially in your

profession, eh?

Would you like

a bite of lunch, Lieutenant?

That's very thoughtful-

the perfect host.

- Waldo.

- You'd almost think he was in his own home.

Shelby knows how distracted I am.

Would you, Lieutenant?

Thank you, Mrs. Treadwell,

but I've got to be going.

But, Lieutenant, I- Well, I rather thought

you'd want to ask me some questions.

Oh, yes. What did they play

at the concert Friday night?

Oh, Brahms's First

and Beethoven's Ninth.

Uh-huh. Have you got a key

to Miss Hunt's house up in the country?

No, but I think there's one

up in her apartment.

- Okay, I'll have a look.

- Perhaps I could help you?

All right. Come along.

I'll be seeing you,

Mrs. Treadwell.

Extra.! Extra.!

Girl victim in brutal slaying.!

Extra.! Girl victim

in brutal slaying.!

Read all about it.!

Girl victim in brutal slaying.!

Girl victim

in brutal slaying.! Read all about it.!

All right.

Break it up. Break it up.

Ice-cold drinks.!

- The doorbell rang.

- What?

As she opened the door,

the shot was fired.

And how do you deduce that?

She fell backward.

The body was there.

I thought you hadn't

been up here before.

I saw the police photos.

I guess I better

try and find that key.

McPherson, tell me, why did they have to

photograph her in that horrible condition?

When a dame gets killed,

she doesn't worry about how she looks.

Will you stop calling her a dame?

Look around.

Is this the home of a dame?

Look at her.

Not bad.

Jacoby was in love with her

when he painted it...

but he never captured

her vibrance, her warmth.

Have you ever been in love?

A doll in Washington Heights

once got a fox fur out of me.

Ever know a woman who wasn't

a "doll'' or a "dame''?

Yeah, one, but she kept walking me

past furniture windows...

to look at the parlor suites.

- Would you mind turning that off?

- Why? Don't you like it?

It was one of Laura's favorites.

Not exactly classical, but sweet.

- You know a lot about music?

- I don't know a lot about anything...

but I know a little

about practically everything.

Yeah? Then why did you say...

they played Brahms's First and Beethoven's

Ninth at the concert Friday night?

They changed the program at the last

minute and played nothing but Sibelius.

I suppose I should have

told you in the first place.

I'd been working on that

advertising campaign with Laura.

Well, we'd been working so hard, I-

I just couldn't keep my eyes open.

I didn't hear a note at the concert.

I fell asleep.

Next he'll produce

photographic evidence of his dreams.

I know it sounds suspicious,

but I'm resigned to that by now.

I'm a natural-born suspect just because

I'm not the conventional type.

I wouldn't worry about it,

Mr. Carpenter.

It sounds reasonable.

I fall asleep at concerts myself.

Thank you.

You found

that key yet?

No. I looked for it in the den,

but it wasn't there. It may be in here.

Yes, here it is.

I knew there must be

one around somewhere.

The police are very fussy

about their inventories.

That key isn't on the list of things

that were in that drawer yesterday.

Then it's made

a recent reappearance.

You put it there,

didn't you?

- Yes.

- Why?

It's just that I didn't want to give it

to you while Waldo was present.

- Oh.

- I have private reasons that don't concern him.

Everything about Laura

concerns me.

You have private reasons,

no doubt, to lie about the key.

Waldo, for your own good,

I'm warning you to stop implying...

that I had anything to do

with Laura's death.

Very well.

I'll stop implying.

I'll make

a direct statement.

All right,

you asked for it.

I wouldn't.

Will you please stop dawdling

with that infernal puzzle?

- It's getting on my nerves.

- I know, but it keeps me calm.

Okay, let's go.

This was our table-

Laura's and mine.

We spent many quiet evenings

here together.

I remember we dined here the night

before her 22nd birthday.

Just we two-

happy, making plans

for her future.

- Good luck.

But this was a far cry...

from the girl who walked into my life

at the Algonquin Hotel five years before.

Pardon me.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Mr. Lydecker,

how do you do?

My name is Laura Hunt,

and I'm with Bullitt and Company.

You know,

the big advertising firm.

And I'd like to talk

something over with you, if I may.

You can hardly fail to realize that

I am engaged in eating my lunch.

Yes, I know. I'm awfully sorry

to interrupt this way...

but it's so hard to get to see you

the regular way, and...

this will only

take a minute, really.

- Now, this is-

- Young woman...

either you have been raised

in some incredibly rustic community...

where good manners

are unknown...

or you suffer from the common

feminine delusion...

that the mere fact

of being a woman...

exempts you from the rules

of civilized conduct.

Or possibly both.

Possibly, but here's

what I wanted to show you.

It's for

the Wallace Flow-Rite pen.

I know my company would be glad to pay

you $5,000 if you'll endorse the ad.

I don't use a pen.

I write with a goose quill

dipped in venom.

Yes, but this is a very fine pen,

Mr. Lydecker...

the best on the market.

Wouldn't you at least

consider endorsing it?

I'll neither consider, endorse

or use the Wallace pen.

I hate pens.

If your employers wish me to publish

that statement in my column...

you may tell them that I shall be

delighted to oblige.

Oh, no.

You mustn't do that.

Don't blame Bullitt and Company,

Mr. Lydecker.

They don't know anything about this.

It was my idea to see you.

Indeed?

Yes. I know they'd give anything down

at the office to get your endorsement...

only they think

there's no use asking.

So I had this ad made up

all on my own...

because I thought, well,

what's the harm in trying?

There was always a chance

that you might, Mr. Lydecker.

Just think what

it would mean-

You seem to be completely disregarding

something more important than your career.

- What?

- My lunch.

Do you really believe that?

Implicitly.

I never heard

of anything so selfish.

In my case, self-absorption

is completely justified.

I have never discovered any other

subject quite so worthy of my attention.

But you write about people...

with such real understanding

and sentiment.

That's what makes

your column so good.

Sentiment comes easily

at 50 cents a word.

Well, if that's the way

you really feel...

you must be very lonely.

Will you kindly continue

this character analysis elsewhere?

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