Song of the Thin Man Page #2

Thank you, Bertha.

Tell Mr. Charles his breakfast is ready.

Cornflakes before comics.

- But, Mom.

- After breakfast, Nicky.

- Morning, Son.

- Hi, Dad. You look keen.

Beautiful day. I've dressed for it.

- You look like a page out of Esquire.

- Not the page I saw.

I'm through.

Oh, boy! Another murder.

How do you like that?

- It's a trap.

- What?

I knew Roy shouldn't have trusted

that Arsenic Annie.

She's a man dressed in a woman's clothes.

- Annie's a man?

- Sure. It's a dead giveaway.

A dame would never pass a mirror without

looking to see if her slip was showing.

"Dame"?

That's what Daddy always says.

I never say "dame."

I always say "doll." "Dish."

Anyway, it's a very shrewd deduction.

Don't throw the paper away.

I want to read about that murder.

Maybe we can figure it out.

- Asta.

- Father's no longer interested in murders.

- Good-bye.

- Good-bye?

Nicky, the piano is in the living room.

- But I gotta pitch today.

- Couldn't he practice later?

He's going to the Thayar's

this afternoon to meet their youngster.

They might ask him to play

and I want him to be at his best. Go on.

Asta, you stay out of this.

Come on, Asta.

- Come on.

- Nicky?

Come here.

You see why I'm worried?

He's been ducking his practicing all week.

I think you're going to have to have

a good spanking.

- Spanking?

- Spanking.

- Very well.

- No, I'm his mother. You're his father.

- I wouldn't have it any other way.

- Nick.

Come here, Son.

I regret that I am going to have

to take a certain corrective action.

I think this is the way they do it.

That was very clever of you, Nicky.

As a reward, you'll have no radio

for the rest of the week.

- But, Mom.

- Your mother is absolutely right.

Go to your room.

Did you know about this glove?

- Why, Nora.

- Pardon me, Mrs. Charles.

A Mr. And Mrs. Brant are here to see you.

Mr. And Mrs...

Janet Thayar. She did it.

She told me they were going to elope.

Come on.

The newlyweds.

- Congratulations.

- Hello, Mr. Charles.

- What a surprise.

- Mrs. Charles.

Congratulations, Mr. Brant.

If you go out and come back,

we can throw some rice at you.

We'd throw some old shoes, too,

but we're wearing them.

Please forgive us.

We just flew in from Atlantic City.

- When we read the newspapers...

- The secret's out?

- This calls for a celebration.

- A celebration?

Mr. Charles has been saving his last bottle

of Scotch for just such an occasion.

Nicky, where is that bottle?

It's in my red pajamas, in the left leg.

Sit down.

Bertha, let's have some ice and soda.

Never mind, we have some.

Hope you don't mind drinking this early.

I could use a drink. I'll be celebrating

being elected public enemy number one.

By the Thayars, you mean.

- You found it.

- It was in the right leg.

Mr. Charles,

I think you have this all wrong.

- Have you read the morning paper?

- No.

I haven't gotten to it yet.

But, I do know that...

Phil didn't do it.

I know many people heard him

threaten Drake. That made it look bad...

but he was just trying to scare him a little.

This is why we've come to ask your help.

Phil wouldn't shoot anybody.

I'm sorry.

I'd like to discuss this matter further,

but I'm afraid it'll have to be by telephone.

But, Nick.

Darling, Mr. Brant is wanted by the police.

Our having him here

without notifying them...

makes us accessories after the fact.

And I don't think you'd find

the prison gray very becoming.

I'm sorry we couldn't have a drink.

Perhaps, some other time.

- It's quite all right.

- I don't want to appear inhospitable.

Here, take the bottle with you.

I imagine that shot was meant for me.

- No.

- A fine way to kill a bottle.

- What goes on? What happened?

- Go to your room.

That's the murderer from the paper.

Hold on to him. I'll buzz the cops.

You buzz right back to your room.

What happened?

- Did you pick anyone up now?

- I haven't in the last 10 minutes.

Be right back.

Was anyone hurt?

Yes, an old friend of mine

went completely to pieces.

What was it?

- Some drunk rehearsing for the Fourth.

- In September?

He was drunk.

Did you discover anything?

Yes. Never entertain newlyweds

until you've read the morning papers.

There's the Charles' apartment.

Police. Duck in there.

Where is he? We got a flash that

there's a maniac running amuck here.

- What's that? Blood?

- I wish it were.

Mr. Charles and I were trying

to launch our little boy's battleship.

There is something wrong, ain't there?

I'm afraid our son's been listening

to too much radio.

- We get that all the time.

- Just a minute.

You'd be the fair-haired boys of the force...

if you could bring Phil Brant in, right?

- Phil Brant?

- A little surprise for you.

Come in.

Here you are.

Holy hollering cats. Phil Brant.

That's the sweetest double-cross

I've ever been handed.

The less you say, the better.

But he didn't shoot anybody.

Somebody even shot at him.

You're a witness, Mrs. Charles.

Hand-picked.

Mr. Brant may be able to fool some people

with that phony shooting gag...

but I've seen it pulled far too often

even to be amused.

Somebody did shoot at him.

By special arrangement

with Mr. Brant himself.

A quaint old maneuver to divert suspicion.

As they say in the movies,

"They went thataway."

You're right. It's an oldie. A very old oldie.

It's a lie and he knows it.

But he's the great Nick Charles,

The Mastermind.

We came over here asking your help...

and you've helped Phil

right into the electric chair.

Save it for your lawyer, lady.

Thank you, Mr. Charles. Thanks a lot.

Come on.

I could've sworn

that shot was on the level.

It was on the level.

- What? Then why did you...

- Darling.

With Brant loose, there'd be other shots.

One of them might hit the mark.

He'll be safer in jail.

- Then you don't think he killed Drake.

- Oh, that I don't know.

I suppose

jail is the best place temporarily.

But suppose he's innocent

and can't prove it?

Then it wouldn't be so temporary.

- The police do make mistakes.

- Yes, that is a cheerful thought.

Just what I've been thinking.

Of course, if you were on the case...

there would be no mistake.

It's positively sadistic

the way you drive me to work.

- All right, Mrs. Legree.

- My Nicky.

But for the time being,

we'll work without the police.

Nothing new. Get going.

- Hey, Mack. How about it?

- Sorry.

We got your photos this afternoon

with the rest of the news fellas.

Nobody gets on or off that boat

without a pass from the inspector.

You decided what kind of gun

Drake was shot with?

Ballistics is a little bit puzzled

but they'll figure it out.

- Hey, you, got a pass?

- A pass?

Since when does a peaceful citizen need

a pass to stroll along the waterfront?

There'll be a letter in the Morning Times

about this.

What's the matter now, Callahan?

Patrolman Davis is hungry again.

Got to get him a couple of sandwiches.

Sitting out on that deck

kind of gave me an appetite, too.

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