01x14 - The Trevi Collection

[bunniefuu]

Tuesday, May , : p.m.

Mickey Patchek was a dealer, a
snitch, a peddler of information.

His clothes were as cheap
as his reputation.

So when he phoned me
with some information to sell,

I was surprised
he wanted to meet me...

in the heart of Chicago's
chichi high fashion district.

What started out
as a mild surprise...

culminated
in stark raving terror.

Hey! Mickey!

Oh, I'm sorry.

Ladies and gentlemen,

welcome to the Trevi Salon...

and welcome to the
midpoint year of the s,

when fashion will once again
become just that... fashion.

I don't like long introductions,

so, ladies and gentlemen,
the Trevi Collection for !

First, Madelaine,

whose chocolate dress
announces the end of nostalgia...

and the return of the cape.

Since her matte jersey
dress is in chocolate,

her jersey cape, with the hand-dyed
feathers, is in delicious caramel.

The truly liberated woman...

is not afraid to be a woman.

No camp, no kitsch,

no cartoon T-shirts.

Melody, whose evening gown
in bronze pailleted sequins...

all hand-sewn,

and for that very mystifying
entrance, souffle veiling.

Ah!

Oh!
You scared me.

- What are you, a policeman?
- Do I look like a policeman? I'm a reporter.

I covered the fashion show
this afternoon.

Oh, they put me in that awful
cape thing with all those feathers.

I was invisible. Do you
think that'll catch on?

Well, who knows? The
Nehru jacket had its day.

- Does that stairway go up to the top floor?
- Mm-hmm.

- But they won't let you in there.
- Why?

- The police are taking fingerprints.
- Ah.

Why do you want to go up there?

- Why do I want to go up there? Because it's there.
- Oh.

Is there another way up?

You know, I could probably tell
you more than you'd find out up there.

Why? Why would you
want to do a thing like that?

Because I'd like the publicity.

That I understand.

- And you want to know about the man who fell, right?
- Mm-hmm.

I knew him.

The police think that he was trying
to steal some fashion designs...

and trying to get away
through the window when he fell.

You mean there's a market
for that kind of crud?

Fashion designs?
Are you kidding?

That's where Trevi keeps all
the designs for her next season.

Hey, what kind of story
could you do about me?

- I might be able to tie you in to a story on the man's death.
- Terrific!

I like the contrast.

Beautiful fashion model, grim,
tawdry death of a fashion spy.

Yeah, yeah.
Well, first the spy, huh?

- You say you knew Mickey Patchek?
- Indirectly.

- He was dating one of the models.
- Which one?

Oh, doesn't this place have the perfect
texture and ambience of a fashion layout?

Yeah, it's great. Listen,
what's this model's name?

Look,

some of the girls like to
date kind of rough types.

I don't know... it's chic,
but it's also kind of kinky.

So I don't wanna tell you her name
until I've checked with her first. Okay?

Yeah, sure. Okay. All right.
You check, and I'll call you later.

No, wait! She might
be inside right now.

And if she's not, I'll ask some of
the other girls what they think. Okay?

Look, I really do
want to help you.

And if you're serious
about this publicity business,

well, you have to know something about
fashion and something about me, right?

I've got a whole string
of titles.

Miss Teen Queen, state
baton twirling champion,

-H club competition winner.

Oh! -H club winner!

Sloppin' the hogs?
Winnowing the chaff?

Or is it chaffing the winnow?

I raised a prize goat.

Come on.

Hi, Randy. Hi, Flo.
Kitty, kitty, kitty.

Oh, I love animals. Mention that.
The public likes that sort of thing. Right?

Yeah, sure. Great.

- Listen, is one of the models you're talking about here?
- No, I don't see her.

Then after the Teen Queen thing,
I decided to freelance for a while.

- Then I went exclusive with Madame Trevi.
- Yeah. Right to the top, huh?

Oh, no, not hardly.

This session is a big
step for me, and for Trevi.

It's for Vogue,
the international edition.

Uh, maybe I'd better
get out of here.

Oh, no, Mr. Kolchak. Just wave
this around. Nobody will notice you.

Madame Trevi picked you for the layout.
Looks like you're on your way up, huh?

I was her second choice.

She wanted Melody Sedgewick, but
she and Melody had a big argument.

Melody's leaving to do
cosmetic commercials...

right in the middle
of the showing.

Boys, step out of there, please!
We're coming in with lights.

You see that girl over there?

Oh! Oh, yeah!

That's Ariel,

the top international model,

and she never lets anyone
forget it.

Huh.

Pardon me.
Ariel won't work with you.

- She says you look alike.
- What?

Ariel is Ariel.

Why, she can't do this!

Oh, yes, she can. The layout
features her. It's in the contract.

I'm sorry.

Well, about that model
you were talking about.

She's not here.

Well, thanks a lot, Madelaine.
I'll be in touch with you.

Thank you.
We got so much accomplished.

: p.m.

I received word
that Murray Vernon,

Mickey Patchek's leading
competitor in the information business,

was ready to deal for the same
tidbits Mickey had been holding...

Some pieces of paper that would
blow a labor extortion racket wide open...

and put several garment
union bosses in prison.

I was to call Murray at a certain
number to arrange the pass.

But before he could
say much of anything,

we both discovered that
Murray Vernon's number was up.

Wait, wait, wait.
Have we met?

Don't give us none of your double-talk,
Kolchak. We know that you got it.

- Oh, you do?
- Yeah.

- Murray Vernon told
us before he... - Oh.

- Where is it, Kolchak?
- I don't know. I haven't the faintest...

- It'll take me a little time to get it.
- How much time?

- Oh, about a week...
- A week?

Well, about five days?

- You have it over here tonight.
- N-No...

- Tonight!
- I need at least four days.

- I'll give you hours.
- No, no, I couldn't possibly do it in less than .

- Forty-eight.
- Seventy-two.

- Forty-eight!
- Hey, hey. You guys nearly got a deal.

Split the difference.
Make it hours.

- Yeah.
- Okay.

- The day after tomorrow night.
- Day after t...

- Oh, like they tell us down at
police headquarters... - Yeah?

- Don't try to leave the city.
- Oh, no, no.

We told Murray Vernon
the same thing, Kolchak.

- You could run, but you can't hide.
- Uh-huh.

Where have I
heard that line before?

Murray Vernon? He's a small-time
informer. Not even back-page news.

He called me last night,
wanted to sell me some evidence.

What evidence?

Who knows? Something connected with an
extortion racket in the garment industry.

- So, why do you wanna cover this story?
- I don't want to! I have to!

'Cause the guys that
k*lled Murray think I've got...

or can get the evidence
he was trying to sell me.

They gave me a deadline,
with an accent on "dead."

Threats are the standard situation
with those men, Carl. You know that.

It goes with the territory,
like the high salary.

Oh, boy. You're really
full of it today, Tony.

Can you come over to the window?

Can you get up out of your
chair and walk to the window?

Can you make it?

Now what do I do?
Jump?

Want me to open the window for
you? Look down there in the street.

Yeah, see the guy leaning up
against the car, reading the newspaper?

- Yeah.
- Well, does he look like a scoutmaster to you?

Look, Carl, we can call the police.
They'll pick him up, shake him down.

On what charge?
Slow reading in public?

They're just watching me,
Tony, that's all.

They're just
keeping an eye on me.

They gave me a time limit.
Very generous... hours.

Sixty hours? How did you
come up with that?

Arbitration.

Oh.

- Sixty hours. You don't know what evidence they want?
- No.

- You have no leads.
- No... Oh, I got one lead, yeah.

Yeah, see,
these are the last things...

that Mickey Patchek saw
before he d*ed.

- Okay?
- Yeah.

He wasn't much
of a photographer.

Yeah. He wasn't much
of a skydiver either.

Huh.
Look at that, Tony.

Look. Those dressmaker dummies have moved.
See? The shadows are in different positions.

Yeah, the cops say that
Patchek was alone up there.

- So they were wrong.
- Yeah. Wrong.

Have you been able to connect
Murray Vernon with Mickey Patchek?

No. No, not yet.

Those hoods have
spooked my stringers.

- They act like I got leprosy.
- You'd be better off. You'd be safer in a leper colony.

- That's very funny.
- Have you got any leads at all?

No! Not yet.

I have got a model that works for
Trevi checking on Patchek for me.

Say, did you hear about the cat that
clawed up Ariel's face, that French model?

No, Carl. The only connection I have with
the fashion world is Mr. Napoli's Menswear.

Famous makers' suits
that go for ..

And it looks like it too.

You should experience
"hot" couture.

That's high fashion, Tony. I mean,
those people really are in another world.

Well, so is Murray Vernon,
and you could be joining him.

- No, I got plenty of time.
- Carl, where are you going?

- To check with my stringer, the model.
- Carl, listen, forget the model.

Forget the model, forget the
cat, forget the moving dummies.

Just get back to Murray
Vernon and the evidence he had.

- Yeah, right, Tony, right.
- No, no, no, no.

I've seen
that look before, Carl.

You get that slack jaw, your mind drifts
off, and you don't even really hear me.

- What?
- You see? You don't hear me!

You're not thinking about
Murray Vernon. You don't care.

You're gonna follow something else. You're
gonna follow something else! You know why?

'Cause you are suicidal!
You are self-destructive, Carl!

I can't talk to you when
you get emotional like this.

I'm not emotional!
Who's emotional?

You're the one that's gonna get
splattered all over the sidewalk!

You're the one they're gonna get! You're
the one that's gonna be Humpty Dumpty!

Don't you understand? I got a business to worry
about! Why should I have to worry about y...

May , : p.m.

Melody Sedgewick was
exhausted after a day of riding herd...

on her new career
and her many offers.

She wanted to soak
her tensions away.

Her tensions
left her... forever.

Hmm?

What?

Help!

I couldn't find Madelaine, and
my usual stringers were laying low.

But Miss Emily managed to contact me to tell
me something she knew would interest me.

It had come over the wire that Melody
Sedgewick, thoroughbred clotheshorse,

had been scalded to death
in her shower.

Dying and maiming were coming
into vogue in the fashion business.

- I.N.S.
- Independent News Service?

Well, it's not Ladies' Wear
Weekly or Women's Wear Daily. I...

- I could have guessed that.
- Yeah.

However, I do think our subscribers
would be very interested...

in what's happening
in the fashion field,

particularly in your collection.

Kind of a man-in-the-street
look at haute couture.

- What?
- Haute couture.

Oh, yeah, sure.
That too. Yeah.

Uh, I suppose a great deal of secrecy
surrounds your showings and your designs.

Is espionage a major problem?

You think of us as the
Detroit automobile industry?

Well...

We don't produce for the masses.

Uh-huh. I see.

But, uh, knowing your competitors' designs
would have some value, wouldn't they?

Yes, some.

Cornelius,
we're not doing nostalgia.

Courrèges was doing this
in the 's.

Here, lower the belt
a little, a-and...

fluff out the sleeves
a little, please.

This we'll abandon.

Listen, do individual models play
an important part in your collection?

Uh, you're speaking
about Melody.

Exactly.

She was leaving,
and you argued with her.

N-No. No, no. She talked
to me before the accident.

- She said she was staying on.
- Can you prove that?

Good.
Now it's out in the open.

And just as I suspected, you
have absurd and vague suspicions.

Did you know Mickey Patchek?

I never met him. I wish I
could say the same about you.

That's very good.

You don't have any idea about why Mickey
Patchek jumped off the top floor of your saloon?

Salon. Leave.

- Please.
- Yeah, sure.

Please leave my salon.

Yeah, sure. I know when
I'm not wanted. Salon, saloon.

: p.m.

It seemed very odd to me
in these days...

of dwindling energy reserves and
increased costs of public utilities...

than anyone, Miss
Melody Sedgewick included,

would be likely to die from having
too much hot water in their shower.

I've talked to the cops. I've talked to the
reporters. I'm not gonna talk to anybody else.

How about talking
to a good lawyer...

to, uh, cover
your personal liability?

- What personal liability?
- Yours.

To put it delicately, a young lady
was fricasseed in one of your showers.

You just might be open
to charges of negligence.

Oh.

I told the police there's
nothing wrong with the shower.

- Water heater's first-rate.
- Huh. Okay.

Do you mind?

You see? Like clockwork.
Everything works. First-rate.

- Ever get complaints about the hot water?
- Never.

It's all regulated automatically.
Never too hot, never too cold.

Mm-hmm.

- Yeah?
- Aye. You see? It never gets hotter than that.

Just right.

Just right.

First-class?

Right. Everything's just
right. It's a happy building.

Yeah.

Hi!
You like it?

Yeah. Well,
that's very pretty. Yeah.

It's hand-painted
crepe de chine.

Just a bundle of scarves,
really, but look how it floats.

- See? See how it floats?
- Yeah, yeah.

Floats like a butterfly.

I called your exchange.
They told me...

What are you doing here so late?

I'm taking Melody's place
tomorrow.

Madame Trevi wanted me to come
down and try on some of the wardrobe.

- Oh. Then you know about Melody.
- Oh, God, yes.

And Madame Trevi has you doing
this, at this hour, after what happened?

It's all right.

No, no. No, I don't think
it is all right.

You look pretty scared to me.

Please. I don't want
to talk about it. All right?

What do you mean, you
don't want to talk about it?

What kind of a thing is
that to say to a reporter?

I've gotta find out what's
going on around here.

There's a couple of guys
with bent noses looking for me.

Listen to me.
She won't let you find out.

- Wh-What do you mean?
- She has power.

- What power?
- Madame Trevi... she's a witch.

A witch? You mean,
like on a broomstick?

- Yes.
- Really?

Well, I've never met a witch
before. I'd like to talk to her.

- No, no, no, please. If she knew I told you, she'd k*ll me.
- No, don't worry about it.

- Is she upstairs?
- No, no, no. She's not here right now.

Oh, she's not here.

Well, I'll come back later.

Witch, huh?

Yes.

- You take care of yourself, Madelaine.
- I will.

Witchcraft. The black arts.

In this enlightened day, do rational
people believe in the existence of witches?

The answer proved to be
a simple "yes."

Historically, the concept
of demonic witchcraft...

assumed its greatest importance
in Western Europe...

during the fifth
to th centuries.

How about today? I mean, do
witches exist in Chicago today, now?

If you believe witches exist,
then they do exist.

And judging from the recent revival
of interest in the occult and witchcraft,

then we must conclude that witches
do indeed exist for a great many people.

How do you recognize a witch?

Aside from the pointed hat
and the cackle.

You mean some identifying test?

Yeah. Yeah.

Just one.

Witches cannot be drowned.

In Salem, they were placed in dunking chairs
and held underwater, watched carefully.

That ability to survive underwater
is the only absolute test for a witch.

Tell me, is there some way
to take away a witch's power?

Yes. They must be publicly
accused of witchcraft.

The judges in Salem believed...

that such accusation
lessened a witch's power...

until such time as they could
be finally dealt with by burning.

- Oh, charming.
- It's all right here in my book.

Yes, yes, yes.
I bought it.

- Oh, thank you.
- You're welcome.

- Next!
- For ..

"Devil or warlock."

Let's see. "Kiss the devil on
Sunday." "For sale: ' Ford."

Chicanery, fraud.
Nothing ever changes.

These covens aren't
all sincere, you know.

Well, could you recommend
a good coven?

I don't endorse
individual covens.

- I see you bought his book.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah. Why? Isn't it any good?

Good? It'll probably be a
best seller. Most trash is.

If he's such a schlock artist, why
did they invite him to speak here?

Don't ask me.

Unfortunately, for those of us who
are genuinely interested in the occult,

- witchcraft's big business.
- Ah.

Big business and free speech is
what this country's all about, right?

Well, I'll agree
about free speech.

Skip the reading.

Try this coven.

- It saved my marriage.
- Yeah?

Even my husband's a believer now, and
he's a stiff-necked Freudian psychiatrist.

Hmm.

But don't say
you heard it from me.

Witchcraft does have
professional ethics.

Like big business.

Webster's definition of a coven
is concise, terse,

without the usual disclaimers
or qualifications.

It states simply that a coven is
"a band or assembly of witches."

Hi. I'm here to...

We know why you are here.

Come in.

Okay, how much is it?

There is no charge.

A nominal contribution
will be appreciated.

Not that nominal.

I just have
a couple of questions.

All your questions
will be answered.

- What's that?
- A robe.

- You want me to get into it?
- Put it on.

We will begin...

the invocation...

with a sacrifice.

Our lord will not come!

- Speak, Griselda.
- There is one among us who cannot be part of this coven.

He is under the spell
of a black witch.

- Is this true?
- I don't know!

She's k*lled a couple of
people, maimed another.

Maybe she's trying to k*ll me.
Trying to scare me to death, maybe.

She is a black witch.

We have no power over them. We fear
them as much as you do. You must go!

Okay, okay, all right.

I came to get some questions answered. You
told me all my questions would be answered.

- What am I gonna do?
- I can help.

- Then quickly, Griselda.
- Yeah.

Yeah, okay.

You must read what has
been written in the mirror.

"Oak chest.

"Mojo bags.

"Brass bells.

Copper thread."

The spirits say the black
witch's power is in an oak chest.

To destroy her, you
must destroy its contents.

She's here! Go!

Yeah.

"Chest.

Closet behind witch's desk."

Stop it! Stop it!

Do you know what you've
done? Why are you doing this?

To strip you of your power, madam.
Now we can talk about Mickey Patchek.

He was trying
to steal my designs.

And you stopped him
with witchcraft!

I see.

She's made you think
I'm the witch.

What?

She was using you to destroy
the things that controlled her.

Nothing will stop her now!
She'll k*ll us both!

What are you talking about?
Who will k*ll us both?

Madelaine... Madelaine...

Madelaine the witch.

Good heavens.

Madame Trevi was hospitalized
with something they called...

a laryngeal constriction.

It simply meant
she was choking to death.

The doctors didn't know how to stop it,
but of course they refused to admit that.

Nor could they explain
why they were powerless.

- We got ripped off. Right?
- Wrong!

Obviously your friends are not satisfied with
your progress on the Murray Vernon business,

so sometime last night they
came in here to spur you along.

- What did that say?
- They called you a...

It was a very filthy word, Carl,
and I tend to agree with them.

Oh, you do!
Get it off of there, George.

Mr. Vincenzo
left his Homburg in here,

and they broke into the refrigerator and
smeared peanut butter all over the brim.

- No.
- My favorite hat.

Now it'll always smell like some kid's lunch box.

I'm sorry, Tony, but
I'm doing the best I can.

- Now, look, Carl. I want
you to understand... - Tony!

Now, look, Carl...
Carl, now, this is an order.

I want you to lay off
the fashion business.

Find out what Murray Vernon
and Patchek had for you,

and do it before they drag Lake Michigan
and find us all wearing cement kimonos.

Tony, I'm trying to do that.
I'm going to. I really am.

You see, I think it's all kind
of interrelated, the whole thing.

- But I'm gonna get to the bottom of it yet, with this.
- What's that?

You been robbing lint traps
down at the Launderama?

- No, it's a mojo bag.
- A what?

A mojo bag. Yeah. See, it's got bear
claws in it, and, uh... and a little bell.

It's the only thing that'll ward
off the power of a black witch.

- A black witch?
- Yeah, that's right. A black witch.

Carl.

- Yeah?
- Carl...

You know, every year
my brother-in-law asks me...

to come into the venetian
blind business with him.

He's got a $, home
over in Evanston.

He's got a company car.

And I always say, "No, Rocco, I love
the news business. It's in my blood."

Uh-huh.

I tell you something, Carl.

This is the year I'm gonna
become a venetian blind executive.

Tony, you got a
brother-in-law named Rocco...

in the venetian blind business?

Hey, that's
a terrific cover, Tony.

No, no, I'm serious. I'm
really very serious, Tony.

This mojo bag and the sound of breaking
glass are anathema to a black witch.

Good-bye, Carl.

- Think he means it?
- I wonder who'd take control of the bureau.

Be my guest, Ron. Just remember, I
like my underwear in the top drawer.

Oh, Carl, there was
a telephone message for you.

Dr. Gravanites from the City General
wants you to come down right now.

Oh, thanks, Em.
Thanks very much.

But I've forgotten something.
Something I'm missing here.

I've got my bell, the bear
claws and the buttons.

Wire! Copper wire. That's
right. Witches hate copper.

- Oh. Carl.
- Yes?

I merely point it out to you.
I don't say "yea" or "nay."

I say "yea," Em. Thank you,
my darling, very, very much.

- Aha.
- Kolchak!

You gotta
repair it anyway, Tony.

Besides, the venetian blinds behind my desk
over there have been broken by the guys.

You got your first big sale.
Congratulations.

She's been trying to say
something, repeating your name.

It's Kolchak.
Wh... What...

A doll.

- A doll?
- Yes.

What kind of a doll?

A rag doll.

Rag... Rag doll? Like...
Like... Wh-What, like you?

- She's very weak.
- I know, I know, I know.

Just... Just give me a moment.
It could be important.

Yes, go on. Who?

It's... Madelaine.

Madelaine?

Yeah, I understand.

Where is the doll?

In my office.

I-In the office.
Where? Where in the office?

- I don't know.
- You don't know.

You don't... Yeah, all right.

- Find it.
- Yeah, I will.

I will.

I will. Yeah.

How long can you keep her alive?

If she lasts the night,
we'll be lucky.

What was that about a doll?
Voodoo?

No, no, no. Witchcraft. I've got to
cut the hair from around the doll's neck.

You don't believe
in witchcraft, of course.

No.
Of course not.

But in this particular case I'd agree with
what my mother used to say about chicken soup.

Oh, yeah?
What was that?

- It couldn't hurt.
- Yeah, yeah.

This going down
to the morgue? I'll walk.

Ah!

Mm-hmm.

Hello, Carl.

My, that was a courageous
thing you did just now,

coming up here with your little
bag of bells and copper threads,

all to save poor Madame Trevi.

Yeah, well, it seems to me we're all a little
old for playing with dolls, wouldn't you say?

Hmm.

Maybe I'll forgive you for that.

Trevi's a fool.

She could have been
the leading couturier.

I could have made her that.

But instead she's a coward.

She turned against me,

conspired with you.

Well, I think your methods
upset her a lot.

She knew what I was.

She and I had a little deal.

Yeah, but we didn't. Why'd you try
to k*ll me in that car in the parking lot?

I just wanted to really convince you that
there, uh... there was witchcraft afoot.

Hoo!

I needed your help to, uh...

To eliminate some of those power
objects she was using to keep me in line.

- Oh?
- But let's talk about you.

- Well...
- I could use you.

I mean, uh,

oh, I could make you
so important.

Youscould make me important?

How? By k*lling off
all my enemies?

We'd have to buy out a controlling
interest in a doll factory for that one.

I know things, Carl.

I know, for instance, that now you're
looking for something, some kind of evidence.

Some man was m*rder*d.

A... Murray Vernon?

I know where it is.

His mother
has it in a shoe box...

in a rest home.

Canceled checks from a
garment union extortion.

Well, that's terrific!

That's really very good.

Listen, what do you, uh...
What do you really want?

I mean,
where do you go from here?

After modeling, I go into
film, like Lauren Hutton.

Maybe marry a rich Greek like
Jackie, or a prince like Grace.

- Oh.
- Just what any girl wants... fame, fortune, a Maserati.

I want it all, Carl.
Everything.

Sure. Why not?

But do you mind if I think over
our agreement for a little while first?

You've already thought it over.

I know when you're lying.

Just like my mother.

Aaah!

You can't
get away from me, Carl!

You can't accuse me
in front of anyone!

There's no one here
but us... and them.

And they don't care!

Mojo!

No! Carl, no!

No!

No!

No! No!

Drown, witch!
Drown, you witch! Drown!

Drown! Drown!

Aah!

I'll k*ll you!

I'll k*ll you!

Madelaine Perkins, I publicly
accuse you of being a witch!

- No! No!
- In front of these people,

I accuse you of practicing
the black arts of witchcraft!

Of consorting
with the prince of darkness!

Madelaine was uncannily correct
about the shoe box full of checks.

Miss Emily found them,
as predicted,

and we're about to break a large story
about extortion in the garment industry.

Uh, Madelaine was incorrect,
however, about her own glorious future.

A conviction for m*rder could
never be lodged against her,

but along with her black
powers went her mind.

I'm told that
she is to be consigned...

to the women's ward of
Grassland State Mental Hospital.

The doctors there give her little
hope of ever recovering her sanity.

They can't understand
what caused such massive trauma.

They say that the form of
medieval pox which she contracted...

has not been seen in our
world for over years.

It will leave permanent scars.

Ah, Madelaine, poor Madelaine.

She won't even
be pretty anymore.

Isn't that a pity?