Mr. Moto's Gamble Page #4

He was the closest

to Steele during the fight.

- George is right. McGuire was in the ring.

- McGuire didn't do it.

- One of the seconds had a motive.

- Connors is the man for me.

Quiet, please, gentlemen.

All of your theories

are very interesting.

However, I regret that you've overlooked

one most important fact.

I fear I must remind you

that the basis of all deduction...

is careful observation.

Will you please come nearer

to the desk?

Let us perform a little experiment using

white ink to represent the poison.

Now, if the poison had been

rubbed onto the glove...

a stain similar

to this would have resulted.

You'll notice the two stains

bear no resemblance whatsoever.

I get it, Mr. Moto.

You mean the poison on the murder glove

was shot onward from outside the ring.

A most excellent deduction.

Please demonstrate your theory.

What do you think of that?

Now I gotta reopen

the case again.

Class dismissed.

Good night, Mr. Moto.

Mr. Moto's theory is swell.

Only I can't seem to

figure out how it works.

In the first place,

if this was Steele's corner...

how could the murderer

squirt the poison from over here?

I don't know,

unless he had a hose.

He couldn't have had that,

because we would have seen him.

And besides, I got no more time

to solve this case.

I've gotta go up to Steele's camp.

Old man McGuire hired me

as Bill's new rubber.

That camp's the place

to look for clues.

I bet if I went with you,

we could solve this case.

- No kiddin'? You think so?

- Sure.

- But do you think you can get me in?

- Leave it to me.

Come on. I got my car.

How do you like that?

Some cop in that classroom

stole my coat.

Forget it.

There's no one there now.

You can investigate tomorrow.

- Some wagon, huh?

- Gosh, it's a beaut.

- You left your motor running.

- I know.

I always leave it running on account of

I can never remember where I put the keys.

Hey! Hey!

Come back with my car!

Come back with my car!

Police! Police!

Lieutenant Riggs, please.

Hey, look out.

That stuff might explode.

Nothing will explode,

Mr. Riggs...

except my theory should the test

prove negative.

- Well, what's the dope?

- Our light-fingered friend, Mr. Wellington...

has stumbled on something important.

The coat he, shall we say, stole,

from a Mr. Howard...

is stained with amarone

the same poison

that killed Mr. Stanton.

Say, we're getting hot, Mr. Moto.

The guy that's gonna feel the heat is John Howard.

Come with me to the police station.

I'll have the Detroit police question

the tailor who made this overcoat.

And meanwhile, I'll put a tracer on every Howard

in the country! Come on. Let's go!

This is some car.

How fast will it go?

I haven't had it long enough to find out.

But hold your hat. Here we go.

Hello? Hello, Sheriff. There's a car heading

your way doing about 75.

Seventy-five?

I'll fix 'em.

So the champ says to me

He says, "The next time you fight that guy...

remember,

he telegraphs his left."

And what happened?

The guy knocked me out

with his right.

Don't try to run.

I'm gonna give you a ticket.

- What for?

- Speeding. Where's your driver's license?

- I've been robbed.

- That makes two tickets.

- But, Officer, you can't do this to us.

- Why not?

- Well

- Ha! I can't, huh?

Well, I'll show you.

- Listen, Officer, we're in a hurry.

- Well, I'm not.

Don't try anything funny.

I got you covered.

- Please, don't shoot. We haven't done anything.

- Oh, is that so?

What do you call speeding, driving

without a license and stealing a car?

- So that's how I got this crate.

- Go on! Get outta here.

Go on. Go on.

That's Kid Grant,

Biff's new sparring partner.

Looks as if the sparring partner

is getting all the workout.

I can step in the ring

and stop Bill Steele right now.

Anyway, what's the use killing myself

for a fight that may never come off?

Listen, I'll have Steele

in there the night of the fight.

I'm telling you, you better be in shape.

He's training for the battle of his life.

That's just what he'll get now that I got Connors

training the champ. Give him an eyeful.

- All right.

- I'm giving this fight

the greatest publicity buildup

radio, billboards,

skywriting, throw sheets.

It's on everyone's lips from the mouths

of babes to the drooling of ancients.

I can see the headlines already

"Champ Kayoed By Killer Steele"

Yeah? By the time that happens,

you're gonna be too old to see.

You ready?

Time.

- Well, how's that?

- Terrible.

- What do you want?

- The lowdown on Moran.

- I gotta set up the betting odds.

- You just saw what happened.

- And the same thing will happen to Steele too.

- You won't lay a glove on him.

I'll give 3-to-1 he flattens you

inside of eight rounds.

- I'll take some of that money.

- Nice layout you got here.

- We like it.

- Must've cost you some dough.

- So what? It comes easy.

- Sure.

- When a guy gets hunches

at a hundred grand a hunch.

- I only took you for 30.

How about those bets you planted all around

the country? I got hooked for 20% of that too.

- I don't get you.

- You're not kidding me, Nick.

I know you got somebody to spread

that money in Chicago, St. Louis...

Kansas City and a lot of other spots too

the same bet, that Stanton wouldn't go five rounds.

I wouldn't shoot my mouth off

too much if I was you.

I guess you have a lot of things

to talk about. We better be going.

Right. Listen to me, Moran.

Don't kid yourself about Steele.

You might regret it.

- Ha!

- I'll depend on you to have him ready.

- He'll be in the pink.

- Yeah.

You trained Frankie Stanton too.

Well, I wish you luck, champ.

Hey, Joey.

Tail those guys.

- Did you get that, Gabby?

- Did I? There's what we've been lookin' for.

Nick laid off 100 grand in bets all over the

country so it wouldn't knock the odds down.

- If we can only prove it.

- Let me do it I'll grab a plane tonight.

Go to my office and get your expense money.

I don't care what it costs.

All I want is Bill Steele

in that arena against Moran.

I can see him comin'

down the aisle now.

- Wire me the minute you get any information.

- Okay, boss.

"Medium height.

Medium build.

Medium complexion."

I'd have to be a medium to find Howard from

a description like that Detroit tailor gives me.

This whole thing

is driving me goofy.

There's a guy by the name

of Howard in this town.

There must be. I know,

'cause there's his overcoat.

He went to Detroit to buy that overcoat, then

came back here to bump off Frankie Stanton.

But nobody ever heard of him, and nobody

but that dumb tailor ever saw him.

I'll find that guy if I have to turn

this whole town upside-down.

Homicide Bureau. Riggs speaking.

Lieutenant Riggs?

I've been murdered!

It's Gabby.

He's been mur

What do you mean

you're murdered?

- I demand protection. I'm a pay tax a tay pax

- Give me that phone.

Hello. Riggs?

Tom McGuire.

No, no. He's all right.

Just scared out of his pants.

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