Shadow of the Thin Man Page #5

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- That could stand for Greenway Park.

- Go on, Nick. I'm listening.

The weight of the bundle, 17.

Well, either that's a lot of laundry,

or it's the odds on Hotbox.

Seventeen to one.

Twenty-five kimonos.

K. K. Maybe K for Kansas City, 25,000.

They got some big bookies there.

Fifteen chemises. C for Chicago?

Fifteen thousand bet there?

- Say, now we're getting somewhere.

- Yeah, up crick.

- Mr. Stephens.

- Yeah.

Could this, by coincidence, be your list

of out-of-town bets on that race?

- Keep swinging, lieutenant.

- I'd like to look into this, Nick.

It may help the committee in its work.

- What work?

- Work that'll put an end...

...to your kind of vermin.

- There wasn't a book...

...so Clarke never saw one.

- That's not true.

I've seen him making entries.

He and Whitey had an argument

in there tonight.

She's Clarke's girl

and obviously a double-crosser.

Took salary from me

while she was spying for him.

- Miss Porter is your girl, isn't she?

- Yes.

Does that let her out?

She's your alibi, your only alibi.

I don't think I'll say any more

without my lawyer.

All right, you can go now.

You too. But stay where I can find you.

Good luck, Nick.

- What really worries me is that jockey.

- Yeah. Still dead, huh?

But since I've got two murderers to

catch, it's nice to have one in the bag.

Five dollars will get you 10

there's only one murderer.

- There's no connection.

- I'm still betting there's one murderer.

Well, this is one bet I'll win.

Sorry, Clarke, I'll have to take you

downtown. You too, Miss Ford.

You can't arrest her.

She's done nothing at all.

She let you in, son.

That gives her credit for an assist.

- Riley!

- Yes, sir?

Stay with the body

until they take it away.

Come on, folks.

- Chin up. I'll split that 5 with you, Paul.

- Nick, you can just mail me the 10 bucks.

In a way, I'm responsible

for Paul's being in this jam.

He was helping me. If there was

something I could do to help him...

- I'll call on you.

- Good night, Nick. Mrs. Charles.

Good night. Nicky, do you really think

there was only one murderer?

- Why?

- Hunch.

- About what?

- Shower.

Where the jockey was shot?

- What about it?

- Don't know yet.

You gonna examine it?

- Okay, let's go.

- Mama goes home.

Oh, Nicky, you know you click better

when I'm around.

Not in a men's shower.

I'll tell you what. You go home,

cold cream that lovely face...

...slip into an exciting negligee...

- Yes?

- And I'll see you at breakfast.

- Hiya, Henry.

- Hi, Mr. Charles.

I've been waiting for you.

Everything's open.

All right, fine.

I'm very much obliged to you.

Gee, that's a nice pup you have there.

Not too loud.

He could get a swelled head.

He's a brave little fella, isn't he?

Say, they don't come any braver.

That dog would fight tigers for me.

Asta.

You bully.

A clue?

Well, good boy.

I think this will work, Asta.

Now, if our hook just holds.

There we are.

What do you think of that?

And without any bait.

Asta, not a word of this.

- Stick them up, or I'll blow you in two.

- Don't shoot, Nicky! It's me!

Why, Mrs. Charles.

Well, followed me, huh?

- Nicky, help me.

- Why, sure, sure, I'll help you.

Well, is that what you were

trying to do for me?

I was just trying to show you

you can't neglect me.

I might've shot you.

Even that's better than staying

home alone. Here, hold this.

I like the way you sneaked up on me.

I was doing all right

until the wind closed the door...

...and everything went black.

- Nicky, what'd you find in the shower?

- Evidence.

Really? Then you know

who killed the jockey?

Who?

Stephens, Macy, Claire Porter,

Maguire, Molly, Paul Clarke...

...Lieutenant Abrams, Asta, Nicky,

you, me.

What are you doing, young fella,

chasing a tiger?

Say, Mr. Charles,

you done all right in there.

Oh, it's you, Mrs. Charles.

Gee, Mrs. Charles,

that's quite a hat, ain't it?

Where did you get a hat like that?

- You like it?

- You bet. Screwy, ain't it?

You can have it!

You don't know nothing.

Nobody knows nothing.

People are getting murdered,

but nobody knows nothing.

Benny. Benny, after you saw Stephens

in the office last night...

...did you go back again?

No, sir. Honest, I told you all I know.

That's the truth, so help me, captain.

Flattery won't get you anywhere.

I'm a lieutenant.

But I'd like to be a captain.

Now, think. Think.

What connection did Whitey Barrow

have with Stephens and Macy?

Why, none. None that I know of.

On the level, I seen him around

once in a while...

...but they always got newspapermen

around.

- Hiya, Nick.

- Hello, Mr. Charles.

Lieutenant. Hiya, Benny.

I can go now, huh, captain?

Yeah. But stick around.

Don't get any notions to travel.

Not me. No, sir. Thanks.

- So long. So long, Mr. Charles.

- So long.

You'd think the betting commissioner

would know about the inside...

...but that guy's like a clam.

Lieutenant, how would you like

to buy a gun?

Say, for $5?

I got a gun. Five doll...?

Say, what is this, Nick?

- That's the gun that killed the jockey.

- Nick! That's great!

- Where did you find it?

- In the drainpipe in the shower.

I should have found that.

But that's all right. We'll trace the gun.

Nick, how did you know

where to look for it?

Well, the angle of the bullet

was peculiar.

It entered his eye and went upward

toward the top of his head.

Well, if he'd been shot

from the window...

...he would have had to be holding

his head back like this, which is unlikely.

The most logical place the bullet

came from...

- Was below.

- You've got it.

Sure I have. What have I got?

Lieutenant, the jockey wasn't murdered.

Suicide? You mean, he killed himself

and then hid the gun?

No, he hid the gun

and then killed himself.

He may have been thinking of suicide

when he went into the shower.

Perhaps he lost his nerve.

At all events, he wanted to get rid

of the gun.

So he opened the cover

of the drainpipe...

...dropped the gun down, butt first.

The hammer of the gun hit a curve

in the drainpipe, and the gun went off.

And when the body fell forward,

it closed the drainpipe.

Lieutenant, you've solved it.

Well, you've helped me. Nick,

this is one bet I don't mind losing.

Thanks to you, I've only got

one murder on my hands.

Will I be glad to tell that

to those newshounds.

If there's anything I can do...

Just one thing. Let me give the story

to the reporters...

...and let me do it in my way.

- Pal, your way is my way.

- What's cooking?

- Did Paul Clarke crack?

Gentlemen, there's the gun

that killed Goldez.

Lieutenant Abrams found it

in the drainpipe of the shower.

Yeah?

Whoever shot Goldez hid it there, right?

Right! And when we find the murderer

of Goldez...

...we'll find the murderer of Barrow too.

Both were rubbed out

by the same guy.

Both of them knew too much

for somebody's safety...

...so they had to be silenced. Right?

- No... Yeah.

- What about Paul Clarke?

- Paul's innocent.

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