Laura Page #4

Good. What about three weeks from

tonight and all the nights in between?

Don't you think

I have any other engagements?

What about two months

from now and the month after that?

- What about next year?

- That's all settled. What about breakfast?

What about dancing?

What about lunch?

Beautiful lunches...

- day after day after day after day?

- What about work?

Beautiful work,

day after day after day?

Why, Miss Hunt,

the way you talk.

You'd think I was

in love with you.

Yes, Laura,

I heard everything he said.

I went to call for you.

I'm sorry, Waldo.

And that reminds me.

Old Mother Hubbard has

something in the cupboard.

The results of

my private investigation...

of that sterling character,

Mr. Shelby Carpenter.

By stooping so low, you only

degrade yourself, Waldo.

Did you know that he almost went to jail

for passing rubber checks...

that he was suspected of stealing

his hostess's jewels...

when he was a houseguest

in Virginia?

Naturally they'd suspect him,

because he isn't rich.

Those are only insinuations...

the cheapest kind.

These aren't only

insinuations, my dear.

There you are.

Read them.

What of it?

I know his faults.

A man can change, can't he?

People are always ready

to hold out a hand to slap you down...

but never to pick you up.

All right,

I'm helping Shelby.

His past is his own affair.

I only care about the present.

Speaking of the changed Mr. Carpenter

in the present tense...

he's now running around

with a model from your own office.

Her name is Diane Redfern.

I'm closer to despising you

than I thought I ever would be.

I'm sorry. I should have

told you before.

Shelby and I are going to be

married next week.

I believe you presented him with

a cigarette case on his last birthday.

Rather valuable, isn't it?

Where did you get it?

From the pawnshop where Diane Redfern

took it after he gave it to her.

I don't believe it. He probably needed

money and was too proud to borrow.

Carpenter proud?

Perhaps that's why

the pawn ticket was in her name.

Before this goes any further,

why, I'll just-

He isn't home.

He's dining

at Ann Treadwell's.

He can't be.

He asked me to dinner.

He would have canceled his appointment

with her if you had accepted.

He treats her

rather badly these days.

I'm afraid she'll say

he isn't there.

Waldo...

why are you doing this?

For you, Laura.

Shall we pay them a visit?

He won't be there, Waldo.

I know he won't.

All right. We'll see.

Don't you want to take this little

bauble along in case he is there?

- Good evening.

- Good evening.

- I'm sorry. Mrs. Treadwell is not home.

- We know, dear.

Good evening.

Hello, darling. I didn't expect

to see you tonight.

There you are, my dear.

In a moment of supreme disaster,

he's trite.

You've been reading

too many melodramas, Waldo.

I was just telling Ann

about our getting married.

Well, have you two

had dinner?

Would you like

a glass of wine?

Why don't you sit down?

I couldn't find out

if she saw Carpenter in the meantime.

All I know is that on Friday

she had lunch with Diane Redfern.

What came of it,

I hoped to hear that night.

- I alternated between moods of

over optimism and over pessimism.

When the phone rang,

I had a foreboding of disaster.

I called to tell you, Waldo,

I'm frightfully sorry.

I can't have dinner

with you tonight.

Oh, no, no. I'm not sick.

I'm just dreadfully nervous.

I'm going to the country

for a few days.

Yes. I'm afraid

it's about Shelby.

Oh, no. Please.

There's nothing you can do.

I've got to think

this thing out for myself.

I'm sorry. I'll call you

when I get back. Good-bye.

It was the last time

I ever heard her voice.

I was sure she had

too much pride to forgive him.

But-

Where does

this Diane Redfern live?

Brooklyn somewhere.

She's in the phone book.

Come on. It's late.

Let's get going.

- Waiter.

- Yes, sir.

- All right.

- Thank you, Mr. Lydecker.

Good night.

I shall never forgive myself for

letting her become involved with Shelby.

It was my fault.

I should have

stopped it somehow.

Well, it's too late now.

Thanks for the wine.

Hello. Mosconi's?

This is Lieutenant McPherson,

Homicide Bureau.

Laura Hunt had been buying her liquor

from you for several years, hadn't she?

Yeah.

Did she ever buy a brand of scotch

called Black Pony?

Yeah.

I see.

Well, that's all

I wanted to know. Thanks.

She's here, McPherson-

the maid.

Okay.

- Come in, Miss Clary.

- Never mind the "Miss Clary'' stuff.

My name's Bessie, and I'm a domestic,

and I got nothin' to be ashamed of.

Sit down, Bessie.

Her letters.

And her private diary.

You've been reading them,

pawing over them.

It's a shame in the face of the dead.

That's what it is. It's a shame.

- Sit down, Bessie.

- I'll stand on my own two feet.

Don't you go

ordering me around.

I ain't afraid of cops. I was

brought up to spit whenever I saw one.

Okay, go ahead and spit

if that'll make you feel better.

What do you want to know?

What we all want to know-

who killed Laura Hunt.

How would I know?

You don't think I done it?

I know you cops

get crazy notions...

but if you got any notion

concerning me-

Ask anyone-

anyone who ever come to this house.

I would have

worked for her.

I would have washed,

ironed, scrubbed...

done everything she wanted of me,

whether she paid me for it or not.

And it wasn't only on account of the

thousand sweet things she done for me.

It was because she was

so sweet herself...

because she was

a real fine lady.

But you cops

wouldn't know about that.

But you do. That's all the more reason

why you should help me, Bessie.

Do you happen to know how this got into

her liquor cabinet?

I put it there.

But she never bought cheap stuff like

that- not a lady like Miss Hunt.

- No.

- When did you put it in the cabinet?

- Saturday.

- Before the police came.

- Was it there Friday night before you left?

- No.

Are you sure of that?

I cleaned out

the cabinet on Friday...

and put the empties

in the basement.

Then somebody was with her

in the apartment Friday night...

someone

who brought that bottle.

- Yes.

- Who?

I don't know,

but I didn't want anyone...

getting any wrong ideas about her,

God rest her soul.

That's why I took it out of the bedroom

and put it in the cabinet...

before the police got here.

And that ain't all I done.

I washed out the glasses

and cleaned off the bottle too.

Do you know what happens to people

who destroy evidence?

I don't care.

You ain't gonna tell

the newspaper reporters, are ya...

and let them make up

their nasty stories...

and drag her name

through the mud?

Go ahead,

but it won't do you any good.

- I'll say you lied. I'll say-

- Take it easy, Bessie.

Get me some ice

and a setup, will you?

All right.

A couple of highball glasses.

Good morning.

Lieutenant McPherson sent for us.

- Good morning, Lieutenant.

- Hello, McPherson.

- This is quite a delegation. I only sent for you, Carpenter.

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