The Thin Man Goes Home Page #9

I'm usually nervous too.

But this time I'm not.

- You see, I know who it is.

- You do?

Well, who is it?

Wouldn't you like to know?

There he is. And mighty

beautiful timing, I'd say.

- Hiya, Slugs. Mickey.

- Hello, Nick.

- Got them, huh?

- All here.

- Good. Suppose you unwrap them, huh?

- Sure.

Sorry I had to keep you all waiting.

I just want to ask you

a very few simple questions.

Nothing really difficult or involved.

Just some little things.

And I'm sure you'll all want to help.

Mr. Draque, do you like it?

A genuine Berton, Mrs. Draque.

By the way, how's your head?

That mean anything to you, Willoughby?

- To me, no.

- It will.

- Does it mean anything to you?

- No.

- Sure?

- Of course I am.

All right. I'm just asking.

- Ronson's cooked.

- Mr. Crump, that mean anything to you?

Gracious me, yes. Squidgy, isn't it?

- Worse than that.

- Precisely. Yes, yes.

Now, I'm about to demonstrate

something to you.

And in order to do it,

the room will have to be dark.

I hope you don't mind my taking

a few ordinary precautions.

But sometimes people

have a habit of carrying firearms.

- So, Mac, will you take over?

- Everybody's going to be searched.

- Frisk them.

- Yes, sir.

He can't do that.

There won't be a payoff.

- Now, look here, this is going too far.

- Nick, stop being absurd.

These people aren't criminals.

They're respectable citizens.

- They don't walk around with guns.

- Here's one.

As superintendent of the plant,

I handle the payrolls.

- I need it for protection.

- This is a.45 Army Colt.

- The same kind of gun killed Berton.

- Let me out of here! I've got to get out!

- You've got to let me out of here!

- Wait. Take it easy.

You can't hold me.

You've got nothing against me.

- I've got an appointment.

- Your appointment will have to wait.

- It can't wait. Really, it can't.

- With whom was your appointment?

- I can't tell you.

- Well, I'm afraid you'll have to stay then.

I wonder if she's acting.

- Where did you get this?

- That?

I bought that at an auction.

It's just an antique. You can't fire it.

- Just an antique, huh?

- Here's another one.

Well, quite an arsenal

for a peaceful community.

- Well, what's your story?

- Why, I need it working around the bank.

Well, we're not around the bank now,

Mr. Tatum.

I'm sure you can spare it

for a few minutes.

Charles, if you can't vindicate these

actions, I'll see that you go to jail.

I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Ronson.

- Dad, I'm going to use your fluoroscope.

- All right.

Slugs, will you close those curtains,

please?

And, Mickey, you might keep

an eye on the Draque family.

If you'll all gather around the fluoroscope

here, I'll proceed to the demonstration.

Mr. Ronson, just move

in here close, will you?

Yes, and you too, Willoughby.

And Bill Burns.

All right. Now if someone will

just close those curtains.

All set?

- Anybody know what that is?

- Golly. I got a bargain, two pictures.

And I don't mean the windmill

or this little dog down here in the corner.

Look closely.

Willoughby, don't you recognize that?

- Good heavens.

- Holy smokes.

All right, open the curtains.

Well, Willoughby?

- It's part of the plans for the propeller.

- That's right.

A foreign power would pay

a lot of money for that.

- Well, they couldn't be stolen.

- Why not? This was.

Well, we've protected

ourselves against it.

The plans are divided

into five different parts.

Nobody is allowed to see

or to work on more than one part.

Is that so?

Oh, Slugs. Let's have

those other four paintings.

- Here they are, Nick.

- And tell them where you got them.

Why, where you told me. In Anthony

Croner's art gallery in New York.

Anthony Croner.

Known to his intimates as Tony.

Make a note of that, Mr. Draque.

Oh, Mr. Crump.

Do you recognize these?

Gracious me, yes. Why those

are the pictures I sold to her.

Thank you.

And under these four

innocent-looking paintings...

...are the designs for the other parts

of your propeller. Surprised?

Yes, I am.

Bill, will you tell me now

why you fought with Peter Berton?

Well, he tried to push me

out of my job. Always making trouble.

- What kind of trouble?

- Angling for somebody else's job.

He was always doing that.

He should have been fired.

- Why wasn't he?

- That's what I'd like to know.

He must have had a drag somewhere.

Willoughby would just switch him

from one department to another.

See what I mean? The finger's

on him now. But my money's on Brogan.

Thank you. Oh, I'm sorry to be late.

I was up at Mrs. Stanton's.

You know, that baby's about due.

Well, I'm glad you came.

I'm going to need you.

- Shall we search him for weapons too?

- Sure. Everybody's doing it.

- Well, I surrender then.

- Here's something.

- Is that loaded?

- Well, just with blanks.

Bruce, we're trying to get

all the facts about Peter Berton.

How he lived and how he died.

By the way, when I phoned you...

...after Berton was shot,

where were you in your house?

Well, let's see, l...

Oh, sure, I remember.

I was working on my stamp collection

all that evening in my study.

- No one disturbed you during the evening?

- No.

- Well, I had one patient.

- But you didn't hear the shot?

- No, I didn't.

- No.

All right, Willoughby. Maybe you'd

like to explain to us now about Berton.

The boy just didn't seem

to get along with people.

You could have discharged him,

couldn't you?

Yes, but he seemed

such a nice, honest chap.

Well, he was a very good workman.

Why don't you tell the truth? You were

told to take care of him. You had orders.

- Orders! From whom?

- From someone higher up.

Someone on the board of directors.

Mr. Ronson.

I gave no orders.

The boy was recommended to me.

- I asked Willoughby to look after him.

- Willoughby, you better speak up.

I refuse to be held responsible for this.

I wanted to let him go.

- Mr. Ronson wouldn't let me.

- That's a lie!

Oh, is it, Mr. Ronson?

I think we both know better than that.

What time was it

when we got out to Crazy Mary's?

- You mean the last time?

- Yes.

- About midnight.

- How long had she been dead?

About half an hour.

Not more than an hour.

- How does that check with you?

- Me? What do I know about it?

- You ought to. You were in her shack.

- I? In her shack?

Certainly. After you bopped

Mrs. Draque on the head.

Sit down, goldilocks.

You bopped her, grabbed the painting

and took it to Mary's.

- I never heard anything so absurd.

- Look here, Nick.

You're making some

rather serious accusations.

Sam Ronson wouldn't do

a thing like that.

Dad, I know this is going

to sound a little fantastic...

...but I'm going to tell you

a little fairy tale.

Once upon a time in this town,

about 20-odd years ago...

...a local playboy ran off to Boston

with a young housemaid to get married.

Unfortunately, the housemaid

wasn't quite right in the head.

Well, in Boston, the playboy got into

a barroom brawl and was killed...

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