Mr. Moto's Gamble Page #3

increases after death?

Hmm That is strange.

Perhaps some foreign element

was introduced...

into the cut

over Mr. Stanton's eye.

- You mean he was poisoned?

- Gee, Mr. Moto, who do you think did it?

I can tell ya. I thought

that knockout was a phony.

That's the only way Steele

could have stopped my boy!

If a man has been murdered, it's the likes

of you would know about it.

You and Steele wanted a shot at that title,

and you didn't care how you got it!

- Shut up, you two! Now listen to me.

- Pardon me, Mr. Riggs.

But I'm certain you want to have

this analyzed.

- What is it?

- Oh, just a small piece...

of dried collodion.

How about that? You're the one

that swabbed that stuff over Stanton's eye.

Sure, I'd murder my own boy.

I'd throw away a crack

at a million-dollar gate.

Why did Steele quit your camp?

Because you wanted him to throw a fight.

- That's a lie. I kicked him out!

- Break it up! Break it up!

Let the gentleman continue,

Mr. Riggs.

Much information can be obtained

through tongues loosened by anger.

You're right. Come on, boys.

What were you saying?

Oh, now you're dumb.

Where's that collodion

you used in the ring?

Why, uh, over here.

All right, Mr. Moto, I'll have this analyzed,

but I don't think there's any case here.

A sock in the eye ain't homicide.

Maybe his ticker went bad on him.

- Who knows?

- No one except the coroner.

- What do you think, Doc?

- Under the conditions, an autopsy might be best.

All right, all right. I'd hate to think I paid

12 bucks to be witness to a murder.

But you started this. If there's any case

here, you're in it till we finish.

Oh, so?

I'm too honored, Mr. Riggs.

Hello. This is Lieutenant Riggs speaking.

Get me the coroner.

You know, since

I've been rubbing you...

you got skin just like a baby.

I ain't hurtin' you,

am I, Mr. Benton?

- You know, I don't know me own strength.

- Sure, sure.

Hand me the phone, Knockout.

- Hello.

- This is Benton speaking.

I'll send over my check

for 10,000 in the morning.

That's okay.

Too bad you guessed wrong.

Nick says you was

expectin' him, boss.

Not wastin' any time

on the payoff, are you?

I'm taking the champ to training

camp in the morning. I thought

I'd pick up the dough tonight.

- No hard feelings, is there?

- No, not yet.

Thirty grand's a lot

of money, Nick.

I might get a little sore

if I found out you pulled a fast one.

You laid the bet off,

didn't you?

You'd think it was his own dough

he lost the way he's beefing about it.

I didn't have time to lay the bet off.

So I'm the only guy that lost.

That's too bad.

Well, so long.

And thanks a lot for the sugar.

What are you taking it so hard for, boss?

I've seen you lose more fish than that before.

You're wrong, Sammy.

That 30 grand is only part of it.

I'm responsible for 20% of the syndicate's

losses on those out-of-town bets.

Oh, gee.

I forgot about that.

Ten, 20, 35, 60, 90.

Ten, 20, 35, 60, 90.

A hundred grand.

What a shellackin'.

It's funny, ain't it...

how guys in six different cities

make the same screwy bet that Nick does.

Yeah. Very funny.

Say, boss.

Do you think that

I don't know. Maybe.

You ordered Steele

to work on Stanton's bad eye!

Of course I did. That's what

any manager would tell his fighter.

What about the collodion

Connors used on Stanton's eye?

Pardon me. The collodion shows

no trace of poison.

Are you positive this is the same bottle

you used in the ring?

Sure it is.

- Nick Crowder took you for 30 grand on that fight!

- Sure.

So I killed Stanton

for the pleasure of losing a bet.

Don't make me laugh.

You still insist

you won $30,000...

on a mere, uh, hunch?

Yeah, just a hunch.

I told you everything I know.

McGuire did tell me to work on that eye,

but I would have anyway.

Look. Look, I'm trying to help you.

The grand jury's downstairs working on this case.

So what? I don't know anything about

that poison, and that's all I can tell you.

Scotty, we've got to do something

to help him.

It seems the manly art of bashing beezers

has suffered a large and unbecoming black eye.

Well, somebody's

got to be the goat.

Yeah, for a bunch of crooked gamblers.

Scotty, I tell you, they're ganging up on him.

Arrested, indicted, suspended.

You know he's a clean boy

with a great future. Look.

I don't want him to fight I'd be happy

if he never stepped into a ring again.

But when he does quit, it's not gonna

be with all this over his head.

Penny, there's nothing

we can do about it...

in spite of the way

you feel about Bill.

But all I ask is that the Chronicle

put up his bail.

- 25,000 bucks?

- Look at the news value.

"Chronicle Campaigns

For Clean Sportsmanship."

Think of the circulation angle.

I'll sell Bill Steele to the women readers.

We'll make this a campaign

against the gambling syndicates

men like Clipper McCoy

and Nick Crowder.

Oh, Scotty, if you'll turn me loose on this,

I'll have this town so deep in tears...

that they'll be using canoes

for taxicabs.

Get me the publisher.

Hello, Charlie.

I wanna see Bill Steele.

- Sure, Penny. Just sit down a minute.

- All right.

Well, so long, Pete.

Well, hello, Penny. I was just going

to call you at your paper.

Mr. Benton just posted my bail.

Well, it was Father's check,

but don't forget it was my idea.

- Well, that's swell.

- I'll say it is. Now I can train for the Moran fight.

Say, what are you

doing here anyway?

Oh, I don't know.

L I just love jails.

You feel so happy

when you walk out of them.

You said it.

I suppose you'll print

the story of Bill's release in your paper.

Well, I've been scooped on it,

but it's still my special assignment.

Oh, we'd better hurry.

You know, Father's waiting

to drive us up to camp.

- Our country house is just a few miles

from where Bill trains.

- How nice.

- Can we drop you off at your office?

- No, thank you. I have a car.

- Okay, Penny. Good-bye.

- Good-bye.

Good-bye, Miss Kendall.

Through the kindness

of Lieutenant Riggs...

I am happy to exhibit a photograph

of one of the boxing gloves...

used in that fatal prizefight.

You will notice the picture clearly indicates

the poison stain on the glove.

Yeah, yeah.

It shows the usual corrosive action

of a hydrocyanic or a virus agent.

Most, uh, classically phrased.

Please study

the picture carefully.

I will then request the results

of your observations.

- I don't have to look at that. I got it all figured out.

- You have?

Sure. Haven't I been working on this thing

for the past six weeks?

- Who did it?

- Nobody. I couldn't get no clues...

so I called it suicide.

Thank you.

And what are your deductions,

gentlemen?

I think Connors put the poison

in Stanton's eye.

It got rubbed off on Steele's glove

when he hit him.

What motive could Connors have

in killing his own fighter?

- Well, theWell, uh, he, uh

I never thought of that.

I believe McGuire rubbed the poison

on that glove between rounds.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes