They Won't Believe Me

I guess you folks all realize

this is mighty important matter

we're deciding here.

Whether or not a man

has committed murder.

The state's done a fine job

of presenting its case.

They put five men and women

in that chair, key witnesses.

And a person would have to go a

long ways to find five better ones.

Anybody could tell right off.

They weren't the kind of

people who'd make up things.

A prominent Los Angeles businessman.

A young professional woman.

A man who's run a country store...

for twenty years.

A writer on a national news magazine.

And the head of our

city's homicide bureau.

I reckon there's no doubt

among you folks on the jury...

that they've been telling the truth.

As the lawyers say, to the best

of their knowledge and belief.

May I proceed with the defense,

Your Honor?

You may proceed, Mr. Cahill.

Lawrence Ballantine,

will you take the stand?

Raise your right hand.

Do you solemnly swear that

the testimony you may give in this cause

now pending before this court

shall be the truth, the whole truth and

nothing but the truth, so help you God?

I do.

What is your name please?

Lawrence Ballantine.

Mr. Ballantine. You're the defendant

in this case, are you not?

I am.

Charged with the brutal murder

of Verna Carlson.

That's right.

Are you willing to

describe to the jury...

to describe truthfully, the events that

led to the placement of that charge?

I certainly am.

To the jury, please.

I guess I better start

with a Saturday afternoon.

June, in New York.

It was in one of those little basement

restaurants on 52nd Street. Nick's.

Specializing in hors d'oeuvres.

Chateaubriand. Crpe suzette.

And uh...

Tables in dark corners where couples

can sit for hours and hours.

No questions being asked.

It was hot for June.

People were already leaving town.

But it was cool in Nick's.

And quiet.

What do you think of it?

Oh I think she's beautiful.

You ought to.

Seeing as how she's 60% yours.

Do you think you'd

be comfortable on it?

Well I have to shrink a little.

No wisecracks, Skipper.

You're being well paid for your advice.

Luncheon every Saturday for...

Eleven Saturdays.

Eleven?

Golly, it seems like

only a couple nights ago

we got to talking at that dull party.

What were the names of those people?

Comstock. They were dull.

Do you think we're dull?

Did you ever hear of a fisherman

finding another fisherman doll?

Do you have a cigarette?

Yeah. I think so.

I thought you were going

to get that thing fixed.

It isn't worth it.

What is on the agenda for today?

Engines.

Gas versus diesel. I've got

a lot of questions to ask.

- Golly, I've got to go.

- Oh, Larry...

Well, use you shouldn't

have been so late.

I should have thrown

that darn typewriter out the window.

I'll tell you what I'll do.

I'll phone you first thing Monday.

Will you?

With the first nickel I get my hands on.

I left the boat with Nick.

Diesels and other matters...

to be continued

in next Saturday's installment.

And walked along Fifth Avenue.

I couldn't have missed it

if I'd been blindfolded.

It was sitting in the center

of the jewelry store window.

Waiting there for me.

Bright and shiny.

A gold cigarette case.

It was expensive.

And for a little while,

turned out to be a lucky buy.

For a little while.

Coming home that evening,

I ran into the first of what

turned out to be a series

of unpleasant surprises.

I had guests.

Some of my favorite people.

Well.

If it ain't the Wolf of Wall Street!

Come in, Wolf.

And drink at the stream.

Hello, darling. You're late.

Flowers, champagne. What's the idea?

What's generally the idea

of flowers and champagne?

Either a funeral or a wedding.

Why, Aunt Martha.

You mean to tell me that these two

haven't been married all these years?

You see. I told you he'd forget.

Don't judge everybody by yourself.

- Forget what?

- Nothing important.

Just your fifth anniversary, old boy.

Never mind, darling.

I know how busy you've been.

That's for you.

It's a gold wrist watch!

You know, Speed. If you hadn't told me,

I'd never've guessed it.

Here. Let me put it on for you.

It's more than you deserve.

Forgetting your own anniversary.

What makes you think I forgot it?

I'd say it was an elementary deduction.

- For you, baby.

- Oh, Larry...

Oh, Larry. It's lovely.

Thank you.

Two Saturday specials.

Mademoiselle.

- Monsieur.

- Thank you, Nick.

You've been acting funny all afternoon.

Is something bothering you?

Well, what?

Larry, I had lunch the other day...

with Greta.

Yeah?

She showed me the cigarette case.

Oh.

Yeah, I got trapped into that.

I bought it for you but...

I know.

Look, Skipper.

I'll get you one twice as good.

Larry, it isn't the cigarette case.

It's what I felt when I saw that.

It hurt.

Well, I think that's nice.

I don't.

It hurt.

It showed me I was in love with you.

I'm fooling myself about

these Saturday afternoons.

We've both been fooling ourselves.

I'm no Saturday afternoon girl, Larry.

I'm an all or nothing girl.

As is Greta.

I wouldn't breakup her marriage

for anything in the world.

Hers or anybody's.

Aren't you being a little conservative?

I don't feel conservative.

I'm in love and it's wrong.

There's only one thing to do about it.

Not see you any more.

Look, baby.

Walking out at Nick's

isn't going to break anything off.

I'm doing more than walking

out at Nick's, Larry.

I'm leaving town tonight,

for Montreal.

I had the office transfer me.

- Goodbye, Larry.

- Wait a minute.

Now it's my turn.

Suppose I told you I was in love too.

It would only make it worse.

Suppose I told you that

Greta and I were finished.

It would not be the truth.

That's where you're wrong.

We've been through for months.

- Larry, I want to believe you.

- You've got to.

Greta is as anxious to break

this thing up as I am.

There's nothing between us any more.

We're like two strangers

sharing somebody's apartment.

Oh, Skipper. How can I convince you?

You might try kissing me.

What a time to be going to Montreal.

- I'll go with you.

- Oh, it can't last.

No I suppose not.

But I can come up to see you.

After you arrange things.

- What time does the train leave?

- Eight o'clock.

That gives me just three hours.

For what?

By the time the train

of yours pulls out,

I'll be an eligible ex-married man,

living at his club.

And darling, we can make plans.

I'll meet you at the station

or at your apartment.

Is it a deal?

Oh darling, it's a deal.

Won't you need your socks, Larry?

Oh goodness.

I thought you had a

date with Aunt Martha?

I did but I broke it.

It's a good thing too. Look at these.

And these.

You'll freeze to death in Montreal.

Montreal? What makes you think...?

This came just as I was

leaving to meet Aunt Martha.

I paid for it. $87.40.

I guess I better tell you, Greta.

This is more than

just a trip to Montreal.

I know.

I'm leaving for good.

Did you remember to pack

your gold cufflinks?

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