The Thin Man Goes Home Page #6

How does anybody get into her shack

to talk with her?

Nobody does, except Doc Clayworth.

Last time I tried I got conked

on the head with a coffeepot.

- No.

- Say, talking of the devil...

- Hello, Nick.

- Hiya, Bruce.

Hello, Mac. How are you?

I was telling Nick you're the one who

could get him in to talk to Mary.

- Oh, sure, any time, Nick.

- Thanks. How did the autopsy come out?

We found that that bullet

entered the boy's back...

...through the large rhomboid

on the left...

...and was stopped by a sternocostal joint

on the right.

- That tells us a lot, doesn't it?

- Yeah. Does it?

Well, Mac, keep pitching.

Bad ones. Always gave me his

bad pictures to sell. Never his good ones.

Just higgledy-piggledy,

that's what he was. Yes.

You know, artists are all like that.

They keep their good pictures

and sell their bad ones.

It seems a good artist is just

naturally higgledy-piggledy.

Maybe that's why he's a good artist.

Or maybe it's reversed.

How much did you usually get

for his paintings?

Whose paintings?

The boy we're talking about.

Higgledy-piggledy.

Oh, yes, that one. Fifty dollars a picture.

Could you have gotten more

for his better ones?

Gracious me, yes. Twice as much.

Three times.

I guess the boy was loaded, huh?

- He was what?

- He had no economic problems.

Yes, or else maybe he was just,

you know...

Higgledy-piggledy?

Yes, I'm sure he must've been.

Well, thank you very much.

Goodbye, now.

I beg your pardon?

I said, goodbye, now.

"Goodbye now"?

There's no sense to that.

Obviously it's now. I mean,

you wouldn't say, "Goodbye tomorrow."

Or, "Goodbye two hours ago."

You've got hold of something there,

brother.

I've got hold of some...?

I haven't got hold of anything.

And I'm not your brother.

If he's on official business, why

doesn't he let somebody know about it?

Why the mystery?

Besides, we have a perfectly good

police department of our own.

Well, what do you want me to do?

I just want to give you

a word of advice.

I have reason to believe that

Mr. Ronson is not at all pleased...

...with his interfering in people's lives.

It's upsetting the town. It might be

better if you asked him to leave.

To leave? But he's my son.

He's just a meddling fool,

that's what he is.

- Did Ronson say that?

- No, no, no, that's my opinion.

Have you talked with Ronson about this?

- No, but I have reason to believe...

- What you believe doesn't interest me.

I think I'll be leaving.

I think you're making

a great mistake, doctor.

You've been working on that

hospital project of yours for years.

I know your heart's set on it,

and it's practically a reality now.

It would be a shame if,

at the last minute, it fell through.

Tatum, I think you're a stinker.

I think Tatum is

a two-timing, double-crossing rat.

Now, now, now, Mother, Mother.

We mustn't spoil Nick's birthday.

Now, you must smile. Now, smile.

No, no, nice pretty smile. That's right.

That's beautiful, Ma. Thanks, Dad.

That's lovely, Mother.

One, two, three, four...

Don't be a cad. Why, this makes me

feel as if I were in short pants again.

That I want to see.

- Here goes.

- Oh, make a wish.

Oh, yes. All right.

Here's luck to Dad's hospital.

Don't tell your wish.

It may not come true.

Well, this one will.

Hang onto your hats.

A man. There was a man.

- Where?

- In your room.

- Who was it, Hilda?

- It was dark. I couldn't see.

I walked in, and there he was.

- What happened?

- It was the table you fixed.

It's fainted again.

Come out of there.

- It's me, Nick.

- Well, for the love of...

- Did you see anyone?

- No, I stepped into the bushes for a bit.

- Why, Brogan!

- Why? What's up?

Somebody's been casing my room.

- I must have missed him.

- You certainly did.

I'm sorry. But I got the dope from Boston.

You were right about the kid.

I got it all written out here.

- Nick!

- It's Mr. Brogan, dear.

I'll let you have this lot

at a dollar a dozen.

- Good evening, Mrs. Charles.

- Lighting a cigarette again?

No, no, I was just going to ask him

to have some cake with us.

Well, of course. He can't stay

out here in the bushes.

There's tricks to every trade,

as the saying goes.

I had 3000 maternity cards announcing

the birth of a baby girl.

All of a sudden, everybody starts

having boys.

Here I am stuck with a lot of cards.

It's practically impossible to sell

boys' cards for girls' cards.

Especially when the picture was of a stork

wearing a hat with a diaper in his mouth.

The diaper was what we call

a breakaway. Get it?

Nicky, how long have you known Brogan?

Darling, did I tell you how pretty

you looked for my birthday dinner?

No, you didn't. Nicky, has Brogan

got a police record?

Well, I meant to tell you.

Honey, you hair is tinged with

the russet shades of a beautiful autumn.

Look, you're holding something back

about Brogan.

He's a definite criminal type.

I can tell by the shape of his head.

Well, yes, there was a little something

about an old lady...

...who was found in a trunk once.

And your ears are like the twin petals

of a budding rose.

Later, darling. Now, look,

I've got this all figured out.

Brogan was in the bushes the night

the murder was committed, check?

He was there again tonight when

our room was ransacked. Double check.

Nicky, he's our man.

And something's got to be done.

- And that's not it.

- Not even on my birthday?

Oh, well.

Oh, darling, don't you see? He'll get

away if you don't get busy.

- I'm on my vacation.

- Oh, Nicky, you're driving me crazy.

This case is serious and all you do

is fuddle around and guzzle cider.

I'll switch to prune juice.

All right, if you're going to neglect

your duty, I'm not.

Brogan is mixed up in this,

and I'm going to find out how and why.

Mr. Brogan, have you any greeting cards

for a man going to bed?

- No, but...

- You'd better start working on them...

...because that's where I'm going.

- Well, I guess I'd better mosey along too.

- Excuse me.

Must you go, Mr. Brogan?

There's still some cake left.

Thank you, Mrs. Charles.

But you know the old saying:

"A man's eyes are often bigger

than his belly."

- Good night.

- Good night. What a nice man.

I didn't mean to talk business

at your party, Nick.

But you know, there's many a slip

'twixt the cup and the lip.

- Nora knows who committed the murder.

- Yeah, who?

- You.

- Me?

- Boy, that is interesting.

- Look, I think she's gonna trail you, see?

So give her a little exercise.

Take her for a nice long walk.

- I've got something I wanna do.

- I get it.

- Nicky, I think I'll go for a little walk.

- Want me to go with you?

No, no, I'm just going to the drugstore.

- Good night, Nicky.

- Good night, darling.

- Now, try to get to bed early.

- You know me.

Hello, Bruce? Nick Charles.

Busy?

How'd you like to take me out

to Crazy Mary's?

Nick, remember when

we used to come up here fishing?

Boy, you sure caught the big ones.

- It's all in a flick of the wrist.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes