The Man Who Wouldn't Die Page #5

Wouldn't surprise me

if you couldn't be elected sheriff.

Especially with Wolff behind you.

That's goin' pretty far.

Why not?

Here's to Mr. Wolff.

Say, I can just see the headlines

in the New York papers.

"Chiefr ofr Rolice Meek Traps Murder Maniac. "

Larsen's Mortuary.

Uh, yes. Yes.

Foley of the New York Bulletin?

Uh, just one second.

He's right here.

Hey, what did I tell ya? The New York Bulletin

wants to talk to you personally.

Yeah? Chief of Police Meek.

Hello, Chief.

Say, I understand you did a swell job

on that Haggard case.

Now, the Bulletin wants to give the story

a big play. You know- pictures, the works.

Oh, it ain't nothin'.

All in a day's work.

I'd like to get a description

of the murderer for the next edition.

- Now, tell me. What's his name?

- Oh, uh, haven't exactly found out yet.

Could you tell me

what he looks like?

I'd say about six feet,

weighs around 160 pounds.

Sort of dark-complected,

kind of a skinny guy.

But mighty powerfrul-

most dangerous criminal I ever tackled.

- Think the story'll make the front page?

- Oh, sure, sure. Big headlines.

Now, uh, tell me.

What's the color of his eyes?

Funny thing. I never noticed that.

Why do you want to know

the color of his eyes?

You always gotta know

the color of a murderer's eyes.

You know, blue-eyed Dillinger,

brown-eyed Floyd.

Oh, you're right.

I never quite thought of it that way.

What's the color

of the killer's eyes?

- I'll have to go look.

- Hey.

- You sure you got him there?

- Sure I'm sure. He's dead, ain't he?

I'm askin' you, copper. Now go on.

Give me the color of his eyes.

Yes, sir. Hold the phone a minute,

and I'll look.

The body's gone.

Hello?

Somebody's stolen the body.

Oh, now, Chief. You wouldn't kid me, would ya?

Who would want to snatch a dead body?

I don't know,

but the body's gone, I tell ya.

Well, I never heard of such insufficiency.

Wait'll I print this yarn.

You'll be the laughingstock

of 48 states.

Hello. Is Mrs. Blake in?

Who shall I say is calling, sir?

- Mr. Blake.

- Mr. Blake.

- Whom did you say was calling, sir?

- Mr. Blake. Mr. Roger Blake.

That's what I thought

you said, sir.

Would you mind

waiting here, sir?

I'd certainly like to know

where that husband of yours is.

- Maybe he's been detained by the police.

As a witness, I mean.

I'm sure we'll hear from Roger very soon.

- Stop coughing, Phillips. What is it?

- It's Mr. Blake, sir.

- Mr. Roger Blake.

Well, show him in. What are you waiting fror?

- Yes, sir.

- Uh, just a moment, Phillips.

I think

I better see Mr. Blake alone.

- Nonsense! Show him in, Phillips. And hurry up about it.

- Yes, sir.

Uh, Dad, I-

I think I'd better tell you something.

- It can wait.

- But, Dad, you've got to let me explain-

Some other time.

This way, Mr. Blake.

Kay, darling.

How are you, dear?

- Get my telegram? My business didn't-

- Roger, I-

- What is it, Kay?

- Roger?

- What Roger?

- Oh, pardon me, sir.

You must be Kay's father.

And this must be Mrs. Wolff.

Sorry about arriving so late

at night, but I thought-

I'm her father,

but who are you?

Dad, I tried to tell you.

This is my husband.

- Your what?

- My husband. I mean my real husband.

Oh, Roger, don't look so troubled.

- I can explain everything.

- How many husbands have you?

- Kay.

- Dad, if you'll just listen-

This better be good. That's all I've got to say.

It was this way. Roger told me

he'd have to stay in Washington-

- Hello, Phillips. Where's Mrs. Blake?

- Inside, sir.

- Good.

- Uh, pardon me, sir. If I may be permitted to say so...

I don't think Mrs. Blake would like

to see you at the moment.

Oh, nonsense, Phillips.

She's always anxious to see me.

Hello, folks.

Well, the prodigal son returns.

Gosh, it's nice to be home again.

I'm sorry I was so late, darling.

How are you, sweetheart?

Hello, Dad. Hello, Mom. What's the matter?

Gosh, you'd think that-

Uh-oh. Is it?

Uh, I bet I know who you are.

I'm sorry, Mike. I've been trying

to explain to Dad what happened...

but he wouldn't listen.

You explained who he is,

but who is he?

- Who are you?

- I'm- I'm Michael Shayne.

- And who is Michael Shayne?

- A private investigator.

Now let me get this straight. You told your father

this man was your husband.

- We just went all through that.

- And that he worked for the government.

That was only because we wanted

to catch the ghost.

He even went so far

as to spend a night in your bedroom.

It was only an evening.

What do you mean by "so far"?

What's his working with the government

got to do with spending a night in my bedroom?

- Where are you going?

- To find a lawyer and get a divorce.

Wait a minute, pal.

Don't let's lose our heads.

You'll lose your head

if you don't take your hands off me.

- Mr. Wolff, will you explain to

your brand-new son-in-law- - Get out.

Oh, now, I wouldn't kick him-

Oh, you mean me.

- Yes, you! Go on. Get out.

- Oh, well. Okay.

Just as you say, Pops.

I mean Mr. Wolff.

L- I never changed relatives

so fast in my life.

Well, thanks for the job anyway, Kay.

I mean Miss Wolff.

I mean Mrs. Blake.

It's all so confusing.

I'm sorry, Mike, but now that the ghost

is caught and all...

perhaps it's better that you do go.

Yeah. I guess so.

Well, good-bye, everybody.

And, uh, it's been-

Yeah. You know.

- Oh, hello, Chief.

- Hello.

- You find the body yet?

- Not yet, Mr. Blake.

- No?

- How'd you know the body was gone?

- You told me.

- Oh, I did?

- Mm-hmm.

- Oh, that's all right then.

- When did I tell you?

- Over the phone.

Over the phone?

Oh, that's right. I did.

Over the phone?

Oh, you're that reporter

- the one who's gonna make me the laughingstock of 40 states.

- No, no. Forty-eight states. Remember, "Jeep"?

- Meek!

- Uh, Meek.

- Now listen here, Mr. Blake.

You may be Mr. Wolff's son-in-law,

but you're tampering with justice.

- He's not Mr. Blake.

- And he's not my son-in-law.

- I'm not quite certain who I am.

- Hmm! One of them smart-aleck reporters...

wanting to know the color

of the killer's eyes.

Uh, Mike's not a reporter.

He's a private investigator.

Not a reporter? Then wh-Then why'd

you want to know if I still had the body?

I just wanted to see ifr you were on your toes.

- The body's missing?

- Somebody stole it.

- Or else it just got up and walked away of its own accord.

Who ever heard of a body

getting up and walking away of its own accord?

I wouldn't be surprised at anything

that happens around here.

Once befrore,

it was supposed to be dead.

What do you mean,

once befrore, it was supposed to be dead?

Just talking. Just a flight of fancy.

That's all. Well, bye-bye, folks.

- Just a second, Shayne.

- Yeah?

- I'd like to speak to you alone.

- Oh, is that so?

- That okay with you, Chief?

- Oh, yeah. That's all right. Whatever Mr. Wolff says.

Uh-huh. You're, uh-

You're sure it's not putting you out?

- Uh, suppose we go in your den.

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