Woman on The Run Page #2

and when we get real fancy,

Man Loh's Oriental Roof Garden.

Those usually.

We're creatures of habit, I'm afraid.

Check the Oriental Roof Garden.

- They'll still be open.

- Yes, sir.

It's two o'clock in the morning.

How am I gonna explain this at home?

- What's going on here?

- I'm sorry. There's been a mistake.

He's sorry? What am I gonna tell my wife?

Come on.

What did you and your husband

quarrel about tonight, Mrs. Johnson?

We don't have to have a reason anymore.

Don't you have a decent picture

of your husband?

No, he doesn't like to

have his picture taken.

I don't want any photographs

of him floating around

that might get in the papers.

The killer doesn't know

what he looks like.

- Didn't he see him?

- No, he shot at his shadow.

- Shot? He shot at Frank?

- Twice.

Nobody knows that except the killer,

your husband, and now you.

So, let's keep it that way.

It's important.

He's really in danger, then?

Worried? I thought you were

beyond worrying about him?

I didn't say that.

If he doesn't give himself up,

you're really gonna have

something to worry about.

We've got to protect him.

Like you did the other witness?

Joe Gordon would be alive right now,

if he hadn't had his lawyers spring him.

Hey, Mark. Here's something,

prescription for Frank Johnson.

- Husband ill?

- No, he just likes to take medicine.

- Well, what are these for?

- I don't know.

He just likes to take vitamin pills,

cold shots, anything.

- What's up here?

- Studio. My husband's an artist.

Oh, I thought you said he worked

at Hart & Winston's?

He does. He's in charge

of displays down there.

Oh, window trimmer, huh?

Rembrandt, get down.

You know you're not allowed up there.

Rembrandt?

It's the nearest we could

ever get to owning one.

- Frank's little joke.

- Oh.

He found the mutt sitting

on the street corner one night,

waiting for someone to adopt him.

They recognized each other right away.

Is this supposed to be you?

Yes. It was a lovely autumn day.

The wind was blowing through my hair.

It was all very charming,

but that was four years ago.

That was Frank's Cypress period.

He had four important periods

in his painting career.

Say, how did you two ever happen

to get together in the first place?

I met him at a friend's house in Carmel.

He wanted to paint and I was all for it.

I had 5,000 dollars and he had

2,000 and talent. So, we got married.

After Carmel, he became restless

so we went to Taos, New Mexico,

where he painted Indians.

- That's an Indian.

- Yeah.

Then he got tired of Indians.

So, we went to Bucks County, Pennsylvania,

where he painted old Dutch barns

with hex signs on them.

- Say, did he ever do a self-portrait?

- He didn't like himself that much.

Oh.

He do these in Pennsylvania?

No, he got restless again

so we came to San Francisco.

Here he studies, sketching

crummy old characters

that hung around wharfs,

missions and gin mills.

That was his social protest period.

Then our money ran out

and he had to take a job.

- Couldn't sell the stuff, huh?

- He wouldn't try to sell it.

Didn't think it was good enough.

These sketchbooks are filled with great

ideas he never got around to painting.

Didn't you try to get a job?

Why should I?

That's his responsibility, not mine.

Friend of your husband's?

No, that's his burlesque period.

Now, that I like. It's pretty good.

Yes, but it takes more than talent

to have a career.

You have to have staying power.

Frank's a drifter. So, when

the money ran out, we just drifted.

Who's this?

Oh, some dance team over in Chinatown.

Oh.

Know him?

Oh, he's a retired ferryboat captain

who does sand sculptures at the beach.

Oh, I know who that is. That's Rembrandt.

What has all this got to do

with finding Frank?

You just answer the questions.

That is, if it doesn't hurt.

Why should it hurt me?

It's all past and done with.

If you want to snoop into the remains

of our marriage, that's up to you.

Don't touch that telephone!

If that's your husband,

find out where he is, but keep on talking.

- Hello?

- 'Hello.'

- Oh, hello, Frank.

- Trace that call.

'Eleanor, there's something

I want you to get for me.'

I'm sorry to interrupt,

but if I were you, I'd hang up.

The police are tracing your call.

Hello? Hello?

He hung up. Seems to me, I heard music.

Wasn't there music?

You didn't do your husband

a favor, Mrs. Johnson.

It's bad enough to be alone

in a big city, with no place to go.

But as soon as the newspapers

hit the streets,

and the killer finds out

he didn't get your husband,

there'll be guys looking for him

with guns.

If I had a husband I wanted to get

rid of, I'd do exactly what you did.

If he wants to run away,

that's his business.

And your business too, Mrs. Johnson.

I'll be seeing you.

No wonder the world's full of bachelors.

Little more needling's all she needs.

Give her plenty of rope

and keep her tailed.

She wants to get rid of him.

Women are curious.

Even that dame will go after him.

Come on, be a good feller and let us up...

- Who's handling the case?

- Inspector Ferris.

Oh, he's a friend of mine.

- Is that right, Inspector?

- Sure, we know him well.

- Hi, Ferris. What's the dope?

- No story.

How about that Johnson gal?

Is she good-looking?

- What about the witness?

- What witness?

Oh, cut it out, cut it out.

It's already going to press.

- Did you get a look at the murderer?

- No.

What's his wife like? Any filth?

Lay off the tabloid sex stuff, Legget.

I'll give it to all of you in the morning.

- Hiya, Homer.

- No favors.

Don't scream. You coming out or going in?

- Are you the police?

- Smile when you say that.

- I'm a reporter.

- Oh, a newspaperman.

Well, you don't have to say it like that.

Let go of me. Go away!

Are you just going to

leave me dangling here?

- Well, you just said let you...

- I don't care what I said.

Help me get out of here!

Pleasure, Mrs. J.

You are Mrs. Johnson, aren't you?

No, I'm the maid taking my night out!

Oh! What magic I possess!

A moment ago, total strangers.

Now you're in my arms.

So, it's love at first sight.

Now, show me how you got up here

without the police seeing you.

- Do I get the story?

- After I get out of here.

Follow me, ma'am.

Looks like half the police force

is down there.

Must I?

Just look straight ahead

like you did when you got married.

Incidentally, my name's Legget.

Legget of The Graphic.

We've got a dandy little sheet, all full

of goo and gore and everything.

Hey!

Bye.

- You wish something?

- Gin over rocks.

- Rocks?

- Is this chair taken, madam?

Why, thank you, Mrs. Johnson,

I'd love to join you.

You didn't think you were

going to get rid of me

as easily as you ducked

the police, did you?

I'll have you know, Mrs. J, I'm an old

fire-escape man from way back.

Why don't you get lost?

Now, then, how about the story?

You'll get the story from my husband

when he's safe and sound in jail.

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