08x02 - The Case of the Paper b*ll*ts

[bunniefuu]

(theme song playing)

(lounge music playing)

MAN:
Another of the same, Mr. Mardig?

Yeah, but make this one with
a touch more authority, huh?

That I'll do.

How come you got pictures
of both the candidates up there?

You see, Red isn't figuring
on losing business

by taking sides.

People for Foster
get that half of the bar.

People for Cartwell, the other.

That puts me where I should be,
right in the middle.

How long has that little chick
been over there?

Oh, half hour.

Do you know her, Mr. Mardig?

Well, her face
is sort of familiar,

but I've reached the age
where all teenagers look alike.

She'd better not be a teenager,
drinking daiquiris.

David?

Uh, whatever she's having

and , uh...
a double bourbon for me.

All right.

Hi.

Are you all right?

Now, why wouldn't I be?

I thought they might have
beaten you up or something.

I told you,
collection day's tomorrow.

And you've got the money?

Now, wh...

Where would I get $ , ?

And don't start telling me

I should have thought of that
when I wrote the check.

It was the only way I could
get out of Vegas alive.

David,

couldn't we go away somewhere?

Find someplace far, far off
and get married and live?

I could get a job
while you finish law school.

(scoffs) What would
big brother Jason do?

He wouldn't do anything.

Are you kidding?

Kid sister and no-good stepson
of the rival candidate

for state senator
running off together.

Running away won't work,
sweetheart.

If Jason doesn't find us,
the gamblers will.

They've got connections
everywhere.

If you don't mind, miss,
I'd like to see your I.D. card.

I've already shown it
to the bartender.

Well, I'd like to see it
just the same, huh?

Oh, Susan Foster.

Age .

Jason Foster's sister?

Yes.

Let's see what your
driver's license says, huh?

Well, that's more like it.

, according to this.

I'm afraid I'm going to have
to take you two in.

Now, just a minute.

Why me?

Buying drinks for a minor.

I haven't bought any drinks yet.

Besides, how was I to know
she's a minor?

That's right, Officer.

How was he to know?

He... he didn't even
know my name

a few minutes ago
when he came in.

...I picked him up.

Well, I guess that takes you
off the hook, then.

But you, Miss Foster, I'm still
going to have to take you in.

Get your things.

Why, of all the crummy,
yellow rats.

Who asked your opinion?

...I guess nobody, Mr. Mardig.

See you tomorrow, David.

Oh, uh, Mrs. Foster,
would you mind

getting a little closer
to your husband?

Ah, that's fine.

Oh, hold it just a minute.

Let's get the lady who's
masterminding this campaign.

Alma, get in here.

Thought this was supposed to be
a family picture.

You are, but make it look
as though you like the idea.

PHOTOGRAPHER:
Yes, everybody smile.

- Good.
- That's it.

The name is Alma Rice.

Rice Real Estate Company.

Largest in the area,
in case you don't know.

Thanks for the plug.

Senator Cartwell charged
in a speech last night

that you've sold out
to Harry Mardig

and the others
promoting the new race track.

- Any comment?
- Senator Cartwell is wrong.

I haven't sold out
to Harry Mardig or anybody else.

Does that mean
you're opposed to the track?

Depends on where they put it.

Land better used for housing,
then I'm opposed.

- Thank you, Mr. Foster.
- Pleasure.

Returns from the second
and third precinct.

Looks good.

- Uh, Mr. Foster?
- Yes, sir.

Could I, uh, talk to you
for a moment

kind of private-like?

You're Officer Rohr, aren't you?

That's right-- Carl Rohr.

All right, come this way.

Now, don't tell me my wife's
drawn another parking ticket.

(chuckling):
No.

I'm afraid it's a bit
more serious, Mr. Foster.

Tell me something.

Did you ever hear of a place

at the north end of town
called Red's Reef?

Am I supposed to have?

Oh, your sister
didn't tell you, then?

My sister
hasn't told me anything

since she was years old.

Now, what's this
about Red's Reef?

Well, I had to take her
out of there last night.

She was using a fake I.D. card
to drink with some joker

that she picked up.

That's just dandy.

Who bailed her out?

Well, I, uh...
I never booked her.

I mean, you know, you, uh...

you running for state senator,
I figured it'd be better

if I just, uh...
just sent her on home.

You have any idea
the painful things

that could happen to a cop
trying a shakedown.

(laughing):
Oh, Mr. Fos...

Look, I'm one of your
big supporters.

What do you want?

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

I just thought it's something
that you ought to know about.

- That's all.
- Rohr.

Thanks.

ROHR:
Listen, don't thank me.

Harry Mardig's the one
you better thank.

- Harry Mardig?
- Yeah, yeah.

I'd have taken her in
until he came out

and convinced me
it was the wrong thing to do.

See you, Mr. Foster.

Do you smell what I smell?

Yes.

Harry Mardig
and his race track group

are trying to box me in
through Susan.

Fake I.D. cards--
I know these teenagers use them.

Picking up a joker at a bar?

That doesn't sound like her.

Could be that this joker
wasn't a pickup.

(water running)

- David?
-(water stops)

David.

DAVID:
Be with you in a second.

Hi.

Why aren't you in school?

What are you, the law school
truant officer now, Alma?

I called the school.

They were a little evasive
about you.

Well, if you must know,
the dean and I

had a little conference
last week

in which it was decided the law
wasn't exactly my forte.

Where were you last night?

Last night?

Why, I was out having fun
and games with some of the boys.

"Some of the boys."”

Not Susan Foster?

That little teenage creep?

What would I be doing with her?

That's what I came to find out.

Well, good old Auntie Alma.

Who are you mothering,
her or me?

If I'm mothering anybody,
it's Jason Foster.

Somebody helped Harry Mardig

get Susan into trouble
at Red's Reef last night.

Was that somebody you?

No.

I haven't seen Susan in...
in weeks.

What, uh, sort of trouble
did she get into?

Are you telling the truth?

Of course.

All right.

But if I find out different...

You'll do what?

But why can't we
go out tonight, David?

Nobody knows about last night.

Well, just tell them

that they'll have to wait
for their money.

k*ll you?

Oh, they couldn't.

They wouldn't do th...

Somebody's coming.

(quick knock)

What's this I hear
about the trouble

you got into
at Red's Reef last night?

How would I know what you heard?

And what business
is it of yours anyway?

I happen to be the head
of this family.

That's what business it is.

Look, Susan.

Are you trying to fix it
so that I won't get elected?

I couldn't care less.

Look, kitten.

I've gone along with Margaret.

Let you have your own car,
buy your own clothes,

a raise in your allowance,

but for the last couple
of years,

you've given me
nothing but trouble.

Why?
Why?

I'll tell you why.

Because you personally insist
on treating me

as though I were
a -year-old delinquent.

I'm treating you
the way Mother and Dad

would treat you
if they were alive.

You're treating me like a child,
and I'm not.

You're under years old,
Susan.

In my book, that's a child.

In the law's book, it is, too.

Picking up men in bars--
how delinquent can you get?

Would you like to know
who I picked up in that bar?

David Cartwell.

You've been seeing him again?

- Why not?
- Why not?

Weren't you listening when I
gave you a rundown on him?

It's a wonder
that Randolph Cartwell

hasn't booted him out
a long time ago.

Well, you can have
the pleasure of doing that

after David and I are married.

You figuring
on marrying him, Susan?

That's right, brother dear.

I'm figuring on marrying him.

Oh, yes?

Well, you're going to stay
in this room

and in this house
until further notice.

Do you understand?

What are you going to do?

I'm going to have a talk
with your boyfriend, Susan.

That's what I'm going to do.

Well, how did it go, darling?

Not good.

It sounded even worse
than "not good” from here.

You know, all that was missing
was a cr*ck

of a cat-o'-nine-tails
on bare flesh.

If I'd have had 'em,
I'd have used 'em.

Margaret, she wants
to marry David Cartwell.

Oh, no.

Yes.

I'll talk to her.

How many times
have you talked to her?

times? times?
And what good did it do?

But it'll do good eventually.

Oh, honey, look.

She's going through
a very difficult period.

She needs our patience,
our understanding, our help.

Well, you had your chance

with patience
and understanding and help.

Now it's my turn.

I'd say your situation
is rather awkward, Jason.

Hope you're not concerned
about Susan

merely because
of the coming election.

I'd quit this campaign
in seconds

if I thought it'd do any good.

Now, what about my idea
of going into court

and getting myself appointed
her legal guardian?

Arranging proper guardianship

is something
you should have done

immediately after
your parents d*ed.

When Susan was a child.

What about now?
She's still a minor.

Yes, but she's ,
and the court will respect

her opinion of the person
to be her guardian.

I assume she'll object
rather strenuously to you.

Well, you're my lawyer.
What do I do?

Well, I have one suggestion.

If young Cartwell
did help Harry Mardig

arrange for Susan
to be arrested at Red's Reef,

then proof of that
should open her eyes.

Where do I get proof?

Della, have Paul Drake come in.

Right.

Paul's a private investigator,

one of the best in the business.

And he's expensive.

It's Susan's happiness
at stake, Perry.

The sky's the limit.

Paul, this is Jason Foster,

one of my favorite candidates
for the state Senate.

Foster. I have only one vote,
but it's at your disposal.

Thank you.

Where did you get this
photograph, Edgerton?

Harry Mardig.

He expects you to publish it
in the Citrus Valley News?

No, he simply gave it to me

as something that
might interest us.

(sighs)

"Simply gave it to you,” hmm?

Mm-hmm.

Or could it be, Edgerton, that
you and Mardig and his group

were doing a bit of conniving
behind my back?

Whatever gave you that idea?

Your editorials in the News.

You seem to have
softened considerably

on the racetrack issue.

Well, now, there are two sides
to everything, Randolph,

and I have to print them.

But as for conniving, why...

I'm your brother.

A fact I've been
aware of for years.

Just as I've been aware
you'd do almost anything,

short of fratricide,
for a quick dollar.

That's not fair.

Oh, I realize it's
your nose for money

that's made the estate prosper.

But don't let it lead you
into trying to cajole

or trick me into anything.

There will be no
deals with Mardig,

and no racetrack, as long as
I'm representing this district.

I advise you to keep
that clearly in mind.

Here, return this to Mardig.

With my compliments.

Senator?

I have a question to ask you.

Get out, Edgerton.

Jason.

All right, Jason.

Ask away.

FOSTER:
You remember my sister, Susan?

Of course.

A policeman picked her up
in a Northside bar last night.

Drinking while still a minor.

I'm sorry to hear that.

FOSTER:
That's not all.

Harry Mardig just happened
to be there at the time.

And he also just happened
to talk the policeman

into letting Susan go.

Which makes me think that
the whole thing was planned.

How could you possibly think
I had a part in it?

FOSTER: Because your stepson
just happened to be there, too.

With Susan.

Have David come in here.

Um, what is it, Dad?

Mr. Foster says you were
with Susan last night

when she was arrested
for underage drinking.

Did, uh, Susan tell you that?

Yes.

All right, I was with her.

But nothing happened.

The policeman let her go.

And it happens I did
not get her that drink.

She got it before I met her.

You can ask her.

You're the one
being asked, David,

Was Harry Mardig with you?

Well, he was there,
but, uh, not with us.

Did you conspire with him
to have Susan arrested?

- DAVID: Well, no.
- RANDOLPH: Or with me?

Is that what he's saying?

RANDOLPH:
Answer my question.

I did not conspire
with you or anyone.

It just happened.

Does that satisfy you, Jason?

Senator, I wouldn't believe him
on a stack of Bibles.

How did Harry Mardig know
that Susan would be there

unless you told him?

Maybe Susan told him.

She... she doesn't happen to
like you very much, Mr. Foster.

I ought to punch you
right in the face.

That'll do, Jason.

I think you owe us
both an apology.

Maybe so, Senator.

But apology or not,

let's get one thing clear:

you're not going to
marry my sister.

Now, you stay clear of her,

or you'll wish you were dead.

I'll be seeing you, Senator.

Don't get the wind up
about Susan, Dad.

She's just a kid
I'm having a little fun with.

Hello. I'm Jason Foster.

Where has my sister been?

Oh, how are you, Mr. Foster?

Why, at the old Cartwell estate,
up on Eucalyptus Drive.

Thank you.

Susan...

I suppose you thought taking my
car keys would keep me in.

Where have you been?

Don't lie, because I have
a pretty good idea.

I've been at David's.

Where, is what I asked!

If you must know,
at the little house he has

on his stepfather's estate.

Was this the first time
you'd been there?

Answer me! Is it?

I've been there dozens of times.

Ah!

(door opens, closes)

Margaret?

Margaret!

Margaret...

- Susan, what is it?
- It's Jason.

He's on his way to David's house
on the Cartwell estate,

and I'm afraid he's going to do
something terrible to him.

I mean something terrible!

(dance music playing,
song ends)

-(music starts playing)
- David?

♪♪

♪♪

(band playing, people whooping)

The masses rise
for Jason Foster.

All of them.

Large or small, I like it.

The first campaign parade
I've seen in years.

Noon speech at the park...

Alma thought some
old-fashioned hoopla

would bring out the folks.

Just as well saved our money.

Senator Cartwell's
finished, now.

That depends on who
k*lled young Cartwell.

Well, you don't believe
Susan could have.

No, she wouldn't have acted the
way she did when she got home.

Still, it might be a good idea

if we could prove
that she didn't.

Your man Drake handle that?

- Of course.
- Good.

- I'm due at the park.
-(telephone ringing)

You and Alma can brief him.

Thanks very much
for coming over.

'Morning, Perry. Hi, Della.

Hi, Paul.

Paul, this is Alma Rice,
Jason Foster's campaign manager.

- How do you do?
- Mr. Drake.

ALMA:
How do you do?

What about the trouble
at Red's Reef?

DRAKE:
You're still interested?

I talked to Rohr, the policeman
who picked Susan up.

He claims it was just
a routine bar check,

but he's plenty scared
about something.

And Harry Mardig?

DRAKE: I hit pay dirt on him
in sort of a roundabout way.

A couple of weeks ago,
young Cartwell wrote a check

for $ , to cover
a gambling debt in Las Vegas.

- The check was bad. -MASON:
Where did you learn that?

Gossip around town.
I checked it out at the bank.

Anyway, I called
the casino in Vegas

and found that his check had
been sold to one Harry Mardig.

Could explain young Cartwell
being in cahoots with him.

How about the people at Red's?

DRAKE: Well, the only bet
so far is a bartender.

He was off yesterday,
but he'll be there

around : or : today.

Better talk to him.

And look into
the Cartwell k*lling.

Any further suggestion,
Miss Rice?

Oh... real estate's
my line, Mr. Mason.

Not m*rder.

MARDIG: You've got to use
the picture, Edgerton!

Otherwise, the Senator's
a gone goose!

Randolph would never
let me publish it.

- You run the paper, don't you?
- Yes, but he's half owner.

Well, stick it in
your half, then.

There's-there's
too much involved

for either of us
to back down now.

What... what about
a deal with Foster

in return for not publishing it?

The only kind of deal
you'd get from Foster

is a kick in the pants.

It has to be this way!

Now, I got the cop fixed good.

And with this picture
as a springboard, we can...

we can put on some dirt about
her running around with David.

Maybe even throw suspicion
on her for the k*lling,

if we have to.

Alma.

Well, where's the champagne,
Edgerton?

Champagne?

To toast to whichever one
of you two k*lled David.

Al right.

We won't go into that now.

But we will something else.

I was going to ask you
just what it was

you two were up to
with Jason Foster,

but it looks like
I don't have to.

Blackmail or smear,
which was it going to be, Harry?

Take it easy, Alma.

Remember, you're in this, too.

Oh, no, I'm not.

It was a simple business deal,
my fronting for you

and getting the option
on the racetrack land.

What about your agreeing to sell
the racetrack deal to Foster?

A simple business deal, too?

I said I'd try to
sell him on the idea.

I didn't say anything
about using bad checks

to frame -year-old girls,

or peddling compromising
pictures of the event.

You got sharp ears, Alma;
maybe too sharp.

Let me ask you something:

$ , , is involved
if the deal goes through.

What's your commission on that?

Zero.

That's my cut, Harry.

Unless you agree to forget
that this was ever taken.

I've got other prints.

ALMA:
Use just one,

and I go to Jason
with the whole story.

And what'll he do to you?

Toss me out on my ear,

which is just about
what I deserve

for getting mixed up
with scum like you.

Mardig is a dangerous wheel
in this area, Mr. Drake...

but you're right.

m*rder does make a difference.

He and the Cartwell punk
were in it together,

just like you thought.

Pretending not to
know each other

until Rohr took the girl out.

Then they spoke.

What did they say?

Well, now, come to think of it,
only Mardig spoke.

He said,
"See you tomorrow, David."”

Now, that's when I knew.

This Rohr:
what's his reputation?

You mean, could he have been
in it with Mardig, too?

I'll bet he was.

Now, word is that a C-note
will buy plenty from him.

I see.

Thanks very much.

BARTENDER:
Uh, Mr. Drake...

Now, this may not mean anything,

but it struck me kind of funny.

What's that?

I came in for my check around
: yesterday afternoon,

and there was young Cartwell,

sitting in that booth
across there,

having drinks and
a cozy chat with...

With whom?

Mrs. Foster.

MAN (over intercom):
What is it?

This is Paul Drake.
I'm a private investigator.

I'd like to talk to Senator
Cartwell for a moment,

about his stepson.

MAN: Senator Cartwell doesn't
wish to be disturbed.

OFFICER:
Say, buddy.

- Oh, it's you again, huh?
- That's right.

Now, look, the place has been
officially sealed up,

so don't get any notions about
nosing around inside, huh?

I wouldn't think of it.

Uh... maybe you can tell me
a couple of things.

I'm telling you nothing
except stay out of my hair, huh?

You a policeman, mister?

Nope. Private investigator.

My name's Findlay,
Rufus Findlay.

Do cut-rate hauling hereabouts.

Mr. Findlay, I'd advise you
not to hang around here.

The police take a dim view
of sightseers.

Notion hit me passing by

that maybe I ought
to talk to the police.

Is it anything important?

See that smashed fender?

Lady did it hightailing it
out of here

in one them little foreign jobs
round : last night.

Paid me $ to forget it.

Would forget it except
for reading about

young Cartwell's k*lling in
the newspaper.

Did the lady give you her name?

No, but I recognized her.

Seen her with her husband
when he was making speeches;

Jason Foster's wife.

Margaret?

Hello, Jason.

Hello, sweetheart.

Well, now that's better.

How's Susan?

Oh, fine.

Where is she?

Upstairs.

I'll go have a talk with her.

- Jason...
- Hmm?

...are you sure you should?

What do you mean, am I sure?

Is there any reason I shouldn't
talk to her?

No.

Okay then.

-(knocking)
- Susan?

Hi.

Susan, don't you think you ought
to get up,

get something to eat?

Look, baby, I know it hurts.

Kitten, are you acting this way
to me

because you think
I k*lled David?

You're thinking wrong.

I know I was angry
when I left here,

but I started to cool off
by the time I got up

to the Cartwell place.

I got to thinking, it wouldn't
do you or me any good

if I rousted him around.

Only make you like me less...

(phone rings)

and him more.

So I drove by the place,
went on up to the hills.

I sat there for the better part
of an hour

thinking of the best way

to patch things up
between you and me.

That's the truth,
so help me, baby.

Mr. Mason's on the phone.

He says it's important
he talk to us.

Where is he?

At campaign headquarters.

Tell him we'll be right there.

It seems like you two were
working against me

instead of for me with this
nonsense you brought in.

The police won't think it's
nonsense, Jason,

when they learn about it.

Well, let's settle it
right now.

Honey, the bartender
at Red's Reef said

he saw you having drinks
with David Cartwell.

Oh, he...

he must have mistaken me
for someone else.

FOSTER:
And the other part--

smashing a truck coming out
of the Cartwell gates--

did you do that?

I never left the house
last night.

FOSTER: Now you've all heard
the senator's point of view,

and you've all heard mine.

The senator's fighting

to keep Citrus Valley
the way it's always been--

groves,

cottonwood arroyos,

sagebrush hills

with a few scattered houses.

Well, I want you all to know
that I'm all for that.

I think it's a fine idea.

But it's a lost cause.

The forces of growth
and progress

are too strong to fight,
so I say, join 'em.

Now, the thing to do is
to make good, solid plans

for fine housing,
playgrounds, parks,

and a model shopping area,

and make sure
that these plans are followed.

Now, that way,
you'll still be proud

of this valley
that you're living in.

(applause and cheering)

Now, there's one thing more.

All during this campaign,

I've repeatedly said

that your ballots

are paper b*ll*ts
to sh**t down the candidates

that you don't want elected.

It seems that a real b*llet

has gotten mixed into this,

and I want you to all know

that I'm sorry
that this has happened,

but don't be swayed by it.

The important things
are the issues,

so fire those paper b*ll*ts

at the issues on election day!

(applause and cheering)

An excellent speech, Jason.

And thanks for not trying
to capitalize on David's death.

Did you think I would, Senator?

Mr. Foster?

Lieutenant.

Speech all right?

I'm afraid I didn't hear much.

Mrs. Foster,
I have here a warrant

charging you with the m*rder
of David Cartwell.

Margaret, I'm not trying
to frighten you,

but the State's constructed

an impressive mass of evidence
against you.

I can't help it, Mr. Mason.

I didn't k*ll him.

But can't believe that
you didn't see him that night

before the collision
outside the gates.

I told you,
I never left the house.

Could it be, Margaret,

that you're trying
to protect someone?

I-I'm... I'm not trying
to protect anyone, Mr. Mason.

I..

All I know is that, uh,
I didn't k*ll him.

I didn't k*ll him.

PROSECUTOR:
As for motive, Your Honor,

the State will show

that when the defendant realized

that David Cartwell
wasn't keeping the bargain

she made with him,

a bargain involving
breaking off relations

with her -year-old
sister-in-law,

a bargain sealed
with a considerable sum of cash,

she substituted live b*ll*ts
for the paper b*ll*ts

which her husband had been
urging the voters to sh**t,

and she k*lled him!

May we proceed, Your Honor?

JUDGE:
Call your first witness.

Hello, Susan.

PROSECUTOR: The State calls
Senator Randolph Cartwell.

: being the time

you customarily leave the house
in the morning, Senator?

Yes, I like to get down
to headquarters early.

Would you tell the court
what took place

on the morning in question?

As I neared the estate gates,

I noticed lights
in the gatehouse,

and heard a record player
playing.

That seemed odd.

So, I stopped and went in.

What did you find inside?

David, my stepson,

sprawled out
on the living room floor,

quite obviously dead.

So, I phoned the police.

I, uh.. (clears throat)

I was close by when the...
when the flash came,

which, uh... which made me
the first officer there.

Uh, the senator was outside.

And, uh, when he told me what
happened, I, uh... I went in.

Well, uh, young Cartwell
had been sh*t,

and so I started looking
for the g*n.

PROSECUTOR:
Did you find it?

ROHR:
No, but, uh,

I found something else, though,
part way underneath the couch.

It was a folded-up check.

Can you identify this?

Yes, that's the check I found.

It's made out to David Cartwell,
and it's for $ , .

And signed by?

Miss Margaret Foster.

Then in the language
of the layman, Doctor,

this b*llet, which you testified
you removed from the body,

entered the heart
at a slightly upward angle?

After glancing off a rib
in the chest cage.

In other words, the b*llet's
original direction was

at a right angle to the body.

I would say so.

Now, in your opinion,
could the decedent,

holding the w*apon in two hands,

have fired
the fatal b*llet himself?

DOCTOR:
su1c1de?

Well, how could that be
when no w*apon was found?

Doctor, I'm quite aware
that no w*apon was found.

But it could have been removed
by someone later.

Yes, there were powder burns
on the deceased's clothing.

And dermal nitrate tests
of the hands of the decedent--

did they show the presence
of gunpowder?

We didn't test the hands.

MASON:
No? Thank you. That's all.

Now, I want you
to look around the courtroom,

and see if you can identify
the woman

who collided with you that night

and gave you $
to forget the incident.

Why, that's an easy one.

Mrs. Foster.

After Mr. Findlay informed you

of his encounter
with the defendant

outside the Cartwell gates,
what did you do, Lieutenant?

Well, I obtained
a search warrant

and went to the Foster's garage

where I found a foreign-made car

like the one
Findlay told me about.

PROSECUTOR:
Did you examine this car?

JEFFERS:
On the right front fender,

which was damaged,
I found traces of paint,

which, after laboratory tests,
I found

matched the paint
on Findlay's truck.

In your examination of the car,
did you uncover anything else?

JEFFERS: Yes.
In the locked glove compartment,

I found a Luger p*stol.

Was this the p*stol, Lieutenant?

Well, yes, this has
my identification tag on it.

What did you do with it?

Well, I checked
its registration,

and found that it belonged
to a Jason Foster,

Cotton Drive.

The same address
as the defendant.

I then checked it ballistically

with the expended b*llet
removed from the body.

With what determination?

JEFFERS: That the fatal b*llet
had been fired from the g*n.

What time of night
did you go down

to the gatehouse, Mr. Mardig?

Mm, quarter past : or so.

Now, would you tell the court
what you did

and saw and heard
that night, please?

Well, I parked
down the road a ways

and walked through the gates.

I didn't think

that Senator Cartwell
would exactly approve

of my having business
with his stepson.

PROSECUTOR: What was the nature
of this business?

Collecting a little debt
he owed me,

and said he was ready to pay.

But when I got to the gatehouse,
uh, I saw a car parked there.

PROSECUTOR:
What kind of car?

MARDIG:
Small, and

that's all I noticed
because of the racket

that was going on
inside the gatehouse.

PROSECUTOR:
Racket? What sort of racket?

MARDIG:
Well, the radio was blaring out

hillbilly music,

and some woman was yelling at
David, giving him blue blazes.

"We had a bargain.

"You-you gave me your word

that you wouldn't see Susan
again,” she was yelling.

And he was yelling back at her

that he'd see Susan
any time he pleased.

(laughs)

I didn't think
it was a good time

to be collecting a debt,
so I b*at it.

Thank you.

Your witness, Mr. Mason.

Mr. Mardig,
the State has omitted

to asking
a rather obvious question.

Now, were you able
to identify the voice

of the woman
you heard that night?

With all that
hillbilly hootenanny going on,

I have no idea
whose voice it was.

MASON:
Now, as to the, uh, little debt

you say you intended to collect
from David Cartwell.

It was actually $ , ,
was it not?

MARDIG:
Thereabouts.

MASON:
The result of a bad check,

written in Las Vegas,
which you'd acquired?

Mr. Mason, I make all kinds
of investments.

Investment, or the Tr*mp card
to force David Cartwell

into helping you discredit
Jason Foster

through his sister, Susan?

I refuse to answer
on the grounds

that it might
tend to incriminate me.

MASON: Incriminate you in what,
Mr. Mardig? m*rder?

Could it be David Cartwell
didn't have the money

to pay you, and that you
invented your story

of the small car
and the quarrelling voices

to cover the fact
that you k*lled him?

If I'd a done that, Mr. Mason,
I'd a gone whole hog...

and identified
the woman's voice as hers...

Mrs. Foster.

You say, Mr. Cartwell,

that you were on your way
to see your brother

at : , or shortly thereafter
that night.

What made you
stop at the gate house?

There was a taxi parked outside
the gates and, uh,

well, I wondered
who was visiting David.

I, uh, I'm a little ashamed
at what I did.

I went to one of the windows
and looked in.

PROSECUTOR:
And saw?

That Susan Foster
was the visitor.

I went on then to the main
house, discussed some

campaign matters with Randolph,

had a drink as I remember...

and drove home.

Mr. Mason?

When you left the estate,
Mr. Cartwell,

was the taxi still parked
outside the gates?

No. It was gone.

MASON: And the small car
Harry Mardig

testified he saw
by the gate house...

was it parked there?

EDGERTON: There was no car
of any sort

parked by the gate house
when I left.

MASON:
Thank you.

JUDGE: You may stand down,
Mr. Cartwell.

PROSECUTOR: The State calls
Susan Foster.

Raise your right hand.
Do you solemnly swear

to tell the truth, whole truth,
and nothing but the truth?

- SUSAN: I do.
- CLERK: State your name.

Susan Foster.

Be seated.

Your Honor, Miss Foster
may prove a hostile witness.

Hostile? To you?

Well, I'll tell you
who I'm hostile to...

My brother Jason!

He k*lled David!

And me, too!

He took away the only man

that I ever loved...oh!

Just got a call
from the Senator,

suggested I withdraw
from the race.

I can't do that.

People will think
that Margaret and I

really did k*ll young Cartwell.

MASON:
Jason...

Susan would like
to talk with you

if you'll let her.

Of course.
Where is she?

SUSAN:
Right here, Jason.

Hello, Kitten.

(sobs):
Jason...

I'm so sorry.

I've been so mixed up.

Half crazy, I guess.

How could I have
ever believed that...

that you'd let Margaret suffer
for something you did?

I...I just don't know.

Susan, I want you to tell Jason
what you just told me.

Well...

first, I...

I lied about ever
having been at David's before.

That night
was the first time, and...

and he only let me
stay a minute.

I think it was because
he had somebody there with him.

Now tell your brother
why you went there.

David said they might
b*at him up,

even, even k*ll him,

the men
he owed money to, so I...

I took your p*stol to him.

Susan left the p*stol there?
Not Jason?

(sighs)

That doesn't mean you're
accusing her, Mr. Mason?

MASON: Margaret,
I'm accusing no one...

with the possible exception
of you

for concealing
the truth from me.

(sighs):
Yes.

But with Jason telling Susan

that he was going to David's
place, my going after him,

finding his p*stol there...

well, it all
made it worse for him.

And recognizing the p*stol
as Jason's, you took it?

Yes.

Did you go there merely because

Susan begged you to go there?

No. Mostly because I...

I wanted to find out why David

hadn't kept his part of the
bargain I'd made with him...

never to see her again.

The other half of the bargain
being your check

for $ , to take care
of the bad check

he'd written in Las Vegas?

When you met him at Red's Reef,

did he tell you Harry Mardig
had his bad check?

No...

but I don't understand what
difference that would make.

He admitted in court he had it.

I'd hoped that David
had told you

how Mardig found out
about the check.

Well, there's one good thing
about Susan's outburst:

it caused the Judge to recess,

and that gives us the weekend.

For what, Mr. Mason?

Oh, maybe a little gambling
in Las Vegas.

CROUPIER: is the number,
red and odd pay off.

How do you like that?
I'm out bucks already.

BOSS:
Hello, Paul.

Mr. Mason, say, don't tell me
you've run out of money?

That comes later.

Right now it's the check we
talked about on the phone.

Young Cartwell?

Yeah, I read about him.
It's too bad.

How did Harry Mardig
learn about the check?

I have no idea.

He just walked in here one day,
and offered me

cents on the dollar.
I was glad to take it.

I've got enough bad checks
around here to paper the place.

Was someone with him
when he wrote the check?

Yeah, a dame.

One of these women, perhaps?

Yeah.
This one.

Susan, in telling your story,
you said you were pretty sure

that David had someone
with him that night.

Now what made you say that?

Well...

the way he made me leave after
I'd given him the p*stol,

for one thing.

And there were
two glasses there,

both half filled and...

with ice still in them.

The fingerprints on both glasses
were smeared.

They were of no use for purposes
of identification.

MASON: Where were these glasses,
Lieutenant?

JEFFERS:
Well, one was on a table...

And the other was overturned
on a rug, was it not?

Yes.

Which one had traces
of lipstick on it?

The one on the rug.

MASON: Did you attempt to match
these traces

with the lipstick
used by the defendant?

Yes.

- They did not match, did they?
- No.

MASON:
Did you attempt to match

the traces
with another lipstick?

You can knock off the cat
and mouse game, Mr. Mason.

It's my lipstick on the glass,

which I threw, whiskey,
ice, and all,

right in David Cartwell's face.

We'd been...well,
seeing each other weekends

for about a year.

Then he started going out
with Susan.

So we had a showdown, and he
promised to stop seeing her.

That was the night of his death?

No, about a month or so ago.

Then I heard about
the trouble at Red's Reef.

It sounded as though David
had had a part in it,

so we had another showdown.
Only this time he lied,

he said he hadn't
been with her that night.

And then you found out
he'd lied?

Yes, so we had
still another showdown.

MASON:
Overheard by Harry Mardig?

ALMA:
Yes.

MASON: Now, in regard
to your weekends...

one took place in Las Vegas,
did it not?

When David wrote his bad check
for $ , ?

I'll warn you, Miss Rice, I have
a witness who can identify you

as having been with him.

Al right...

I was there.

And afterward you told Harry
Mardig about the check?

No, I told Edgerton about it.

I didn't want to go
to the Senator,

but I felt that somebody
in the family ought to know

what kind of a mess David
had gotten himself into.

And so the third showdown
with David, Miss Rice,

ended up with your sh**ting him?

It ended up with my letting him
have it with a highball glass.

And that wasn't so much on
account of Susan

as it was a bon voyage present
for his year in Europe.

- MASON: Year in Europe?
- ALMA: Yes.

He told me he was getting enough
money from somewhere

to join the Riviera jet set.

Getting, or already had,
Miss Rice?

Getting...later that night.

Not from me, Mr. Mason.

In fact, we had a bitter quarrel
that day,

the upshot of which was
that I disinherited him,

told him to clear out.

Edgerton,

the $ , estate check for
emergency campaign expenses

you brought me that night,

and which I refused
to countersign...

was that the money
David was expecting?

You told Harry Mardig
about David's bad check?

EDGERTON:
Yes.

Hoping to use it to force
David's help

in getting Susan Foster
in trouble,

and thus smearing Jason Foster?

It was Harry's idea.

MASON:
But you went along with it?

You see,
I have power of attorney

for the estate's land holdings,
and...

it was through Alma Rice
that I'd given Harry an option

on some property for the...

the new racetrack.

MASON: The property
your brother has an interest in?

Yes.

But he is opposed
to the racetrack, is he not?

Yes, but I thought that if
I presented it as a...

fait accompli
after the election,

he'd come around.

$ , , in cash,

and a quarter interest
in the track.

It was the deal of a lifetime.

But when David
pieced things together,

he threatened to upset your
golden applecart, didn't he?

David didn't know
anything about that.

MASON:
I believe he did.

And when your brother
refused to sign the check

you said was for emergency
campaign expenses,

money actually designed
to buy David's silence

and send him to Europe

until the racetrack sale
was a fait accompli...

when that happened
there was only one way left

to keep him quiet...k*ll him.

EDGERTON: No, no,
I didn't k*ll him.

Harry Mardig did.

Or Alma, there.

Or Mrs. Foster.
She...

Yes, of course.

Mrs. Foster.

The small car I saw parked
by the gate house when I left.

But you testified, Mr. Cartwell,

that you saw no car
when you left.

Oh, but I did, I remember now.

But it was Alma Rice's car,
not Mrs. Foster's.

And the time was : ,
not : .

: when Alma drove off,

leaving the way clear
for you to...

enter the gate house
and k*ll David.

Tell them, Randolph.

I was with you for more
than a half hour that night.

With you from : to : .

Tell them.

I might have gone along
about the race track,

as you said, Edgerton,
but this is m*rder.

Cold-blooded m*rder.

He was with me five minutes
at the most, Mr. Mason.

Five minutes at the most.

Oh, Randolph.

It was a deal of a life...

th Precinct:
Cartwell...

, .

Foster, , .

th Precinct:
Cartwell...

, .

Foster, , .

DRAKE: Perry, there's one thing
I don't get.

What, exactly, was Harry
Mardig's pitch?

Well, through Susan...

he thought he could either
force Jason Foster

to accept the race track,

or cause him to lose
the election,

thus leaving Senator Cartwell

with Edgerton's fait accompli.

(cheers)

MAN: It's all over.
You won.

(cheering, applause)

I've just received a phone call
from Senator Cartwell...

conceding defeat.

And I'd like to say this:

This victory is as much yours

as it is mine,
and I won't forget it.

(applause)

And there's somebody else
I'd like to thank...

- Somebody...
- You.

Good man's
worth fighting for, Della.

Yeah.

(theme song playing)