09x10 - The Case of the Runaway Racer

[bunniefuu]

Go, Blake, go!

That won't help. I'll still b*at him.

That's what you think.

Oh, I'm sorry, sir, but there's no
spectators allowed in here.

- Hey, Perry. How are you?
- Hello, yeah.

I thought I was gonna have
to run up and see you.

Well, I had a speaking date close by,
I thought I'd save you the trip.

Oh, good.

Oh, Marge Leonard. Perry Mason.

- Nice to meet you, Miss Leonard.
- Heh, it's missis.

Uh, that's mister out there
in the best car on the track.

Well, you got any answers for me?

Oh, it's all right. An old friend.

That's right.
We've been b*ating him for years.

Pete, as lawyers have been telling
their clients for a long, long time,

you should have let me read
that partnership agreement

before you signed it, not after.

- Well, how bad am I hooked?
- Well, that depends on your partner.

According to your agreement,

you contribute driving services
and such additional services

as may be required.

And share in the profits.

If, as, and when there are any.

You also share in all losses
the partnership may incur.

No, no, that wasn't the deal
that Rettig and I discussed.

MASON: Well, if there were
deliberate misrepresentation,

perhaps we can do something.

Where's your partner?
Can we talk to him?

Yeah, he's over by Pappy Ryan's pit.

See you, Marge.

All right, all right, I know you designed
the gear principle,

and you own the car, Pappy,

but my shop built them for you,

and I know what I'm talking about.

That car's perfectly safe,
and you know it.

I'd stake my life on it.

What about the lives
of the other drivers in the race?

Your new design
is such a radical departure.

Well, sure it is. That's why
it's gonna pass all those other buckets

like they're standing still.

That's why I'm gonna make
a million bucks.

So radical an innovation shouldn't be
demonstrated in competition,

not when it can't pass
a technical checkout.

Technical checkout, my eyeball.
I designed that gear system.

Anybody says it's not safe
just doesn't know equipment.

Something wrong, Pappy?

Heh, you bet it is.

You and your partner sure played me
for a sucker, didn't you?

- How?
- You talked me into letting your shop

do the engineering work
on my gear system.

You took me for every cent I had,

and then your partner has me
ruled off the track.

Is that true, Rettig?

Don't look at me.

Race marshal had the entry
disqualified

because of technical checkout.

On your recommendation.

It's a great double play by you two.

You take all my savings,

you get rid of the only car in the race
that can b*at yours at the same time.

PETE:
That's not true, Pappy.

I win my races on the track, not off.

You used to have a pretty good name
on the circuit, Mr. Stone.

How much did he pay you
to sell out?

STONE: Now, look here.
I resent such allegation--

[CAR ENGINE ROARING]

Pete, what are you doing?

You wanted to show them
what your car can do,

well, let's show them.

Pete! Pete, come back here!

You can't drive for anybody else.
We're partners.

RYAN:
Come on, move!

You see that?
Not a car on the track can touch her.

With Pete driving my rig in the race,
it'll be a different story.

With my car in there Saturday,
Pete or no Pete,

you're licked and you know it.

Watch it!

[SIREN WAILING]

Oh, no. Blake.

Get him out!

Please, somebody, get him out!

Somebody get him out!

Take it easy. They'll get him out.

- Let's get to the ambulance.
- Pete, are you all right?

Bad cut on his head.
We'll have to see.

Are you satisfied now?
Have you done enough now?

- Lay off. Can't you see he's hurt?
- Honest, Pappy--

Both of you.

Both of you, you took my money
and now you wreck my car.

I just wanted to help.

Well, I'm gonna give you help.
You're gonna go to jail.

- You and your--
- Come on, this man's hurt.

You're gonna go to jail,
do you hear me? Both of you.

You're gonna go to jail.

- Marge, I'm sorry.
- Sure.

Pappy Ryan filled me in.

Look, I don't care
what Pappy Ryan told you,

I couldn't help it.

You ought to know that.

Al know is that Blake is upstairs
in some room

with people trying to mend
his b*rned body.

The doctor said
his chances are good.

Better than he had out there
on the course with you.

Whoosh, he lives.

Snap, he dies.

Marge, I--

With Blake, you and Blake,
all these years, all the races,

Grand Prix in Europe,
Aintree in England.

We were even gonna have
our own design engineering company,

Leonard and Griston.

We will. We still can.

What was it out there this morning,
Pete?

Did you try to make it look
like a breakdown

and Blake just got in your way
by mistake?

Is that it, Pete?

Because if it is,

I want you to go upstairs
and tell them that it was all a mistake.

You tell them to bring Blake's body
down here in one piece.

Something went wrong with that car.

Marge,
I was tooling around the track,

doing and the car was running
smooth as butter.

And then it just stopped.

It just stopped.

Pete, I don't know what's going on
between you and Rettig.

I don't know what to believe,
but that man up there,

he's not to be used
in any schemes or games.

That man is special.

He's special to me too.

[MARGE SOBS]

Come on, Marge, cut it out.

That's not gonna do any good.

Blake's gonna be okay.

He'll be out racing in no time.

Racing in what?

There's not enough left of that car
to swap for a loaf of bread.

Don't worry about money.

Whatever I got, whatever I make
from now on, it's yours.

No, Pete.

Oh, no, it's-- No, it's no good.

You've been helping us
too many times.

- We just can't go on borrowing.
- What borrow? Who said borrow?

Marge, Blake and Pete,
that's the way it's always been.

That's the way it's gonna be.

Okay?

Hmm?

Remember that.

Pete, your head, are you all right?

RETTIG:
Oh, Pete, in here.

I waited for the x-ray results, Pete.

Your doctor told me there isn't
any reason you can't drive Saturday.

- Thanks, Perry.
- Ain't that good news, partner?

You got some good news like that
for Blake Leonard too?

Look, kid,
you know I'm sorry for Blake,

but like I was trying to tell
the counselor here,

it's the brakes,
just one of those things.

You know if you hadn't insisted
on testing Ryan's car...

I tried to stop you.

Didn't you build that car?

He knows
that car was perfectly safe.

I know trouble. I can smell it.

Oh, look, kid,

you got a big race coming up.

Why don't you take it easy
between now and Saturday?

I'm not racing Saturday.

My best friend's here in the hospital,
and I put him here.

Oh, you're not gonna miss
that race, kid.

Oh, yeah, I'm gonna miss that race.

You hear that? I got a prima donna.

And he doesn't wanna race.

You think I ought to let him get away
with it?

You're gonna be in that cockpit
Saturday

or you and me are through.

That's another thing
I wanna talk to you about.

Buying me out.

Buying you out of what?

Our partnership.

Look, kid,
unless you drive and unless we win,

you know what your share
of this partnership is worth?

Not a plugged nickel.

Perry, can we get an order
or something

to examine the books?

You don't need an order.
You're a partner.

Go ahead, examine all you want.

And you know what else
you're gonna find?

We're on the hook for grand.

For what purpose?

Development purposes.

That's your debt, not mine.

You wanna tell him, counselor
or should I?

He's probably right, Pete.

You see how crazy you were,
trying to get Ryan's car in that race?

He has the only rig
that could possibly b*at us,

and you're trying to cut
both of our throats.

Rettig, I'm gonna get
to the bottom of this,

and when I do--

Do me a favor, counselor.

Just make sure he gets a lot of rest,
so he's ready to drive Saturday.

[RETTIG CHUCKLES]

All right, Pappy,
what is this mysterious bombshell

you brought me over here for?

- You'll see in one minute.
- I have to know now.

I have to file my pre-race story tonight
to meet our publication deadline.

All right, here it is.

What happened to my car today
was no accident.

It was sabotage.

- Can you prove that?
- [ will, as soon as I drop the housing--

Then why?
Now, who would sabotage your car?

Harvey Rettig.

Because he knew he was gonna get
b*at. And you can quote me.

PLATTE:
No, I can't, Ryan.

I can't even write about it.

I am not going to have
Car Racing Magazine sued

for libel, slander, defamation--

Well, how are you gonna get sued
if the whole thing is my idea--

I get it.

Oh, boy.

You couldn't have been sued before

when I first gave you the dope
on my new gear principle.

But you didn't write about it then
either.

It wasn't newsworthy enough.

You don't want people to know
about it, do you, Platte?

I'm sorry about the accident, Ryan.

If there were anything I could do...

My gosh, the time.

I've got a deadline.

PETE:
Pappy?

Get out of here.

Blake's still unconscious,
how do you think I feel?

Like the rat you are, I hope.

Look, Pappy,
I don't blame you for being sore.

But I tried to help,
and that's the truth.

The car lost power.

Tell it to the DA.

I've got enough trouble.
Will you be reasonable?

I am being reasonable.

If I wasn't, I'd break you in half.

You know how much I had riding
on this rig?

You and Rettig still spoiled it for me.

Well, you're not gonna get away
with it.

The car lost power.
I couldn't get it out of Blake's way.

Sure, it lost power.

Look at that gear train. Seized up.

Well, it froze.

- There was too much strain on it.
- Yeah.

Or maybe defective work
in the first place.

Or maybe a little pretest help
in a hydraulic press,

just enough to weaken it
short of breaking.

You and Rettig really sabotaged me.

Get out of here, you phony,
before I cr*ck your skull open with this.

Well, now,
why all the doom and gloom?

Listen, the district attorney's office

is investigating the accident
to Ryan's car.

Why would they wanna do
a thing like that?

Because Pappy Ryan
made a formal complaint of sabotage.

Ha! He can't prove a thing.

Then there is something to prove?

Now, look, Rettig,

when I agreed to go along with you,
it was for one reason only:

to keep Pappy Ryan's car
out of the race, nothing else.

If anything should cloud
the reputation of this race,

any stigma attached to my name...

Heh, relax, Stone. Relax.

As far as you or anybody else
is concerned, it was faulty design.

The gears couldn't stand the stress.

You suspected it
and disqualified him.

As the test later proved,
you were right.

Well, that had better be all of it.

I'm warning you, Rettig,

I'm proud of my name
in this business.

It's about all I have left.

I'd do just about anything
to prevent it being taken away.

Anything except back out
of our little arrangement, you mean.

You cross me,

and the good name of Stone
will be as obsolete as a hand crank.

No, I haven't seen Pete Griston
since yesterday at the hospital,

after his accident.

Warrant for his arrest?

What's the charge, Hamilton?

I'll do that.

Della,
see if you can locate Pete Griston.

DELLA [OVER INTERCOM]:
I'll get right on it.

And Paul's on his way in.

Hi, Perry.

Hello, Paul.

Paul, the district attorney's office
has a warrant out

for Pete Griston and his partner.

I wanna talk to Pete
before he surrenders.

Well, from what I've seen and heard
this morning,

you two should have a lot
to talk about.

You saw Ryan?

And Rettig and Stone
and that idiot magazine reporter.

Well, Ryan threatened trouble.
I thought he'd calm down.

Calm down?

That guy yells at the top of his lungs
when he says good morning.

He's still screaming,
thinks the whole world's out to get him.

What about Mr. Stone?

The most conservative way
to describe him

is worried sick.

The accident he proclaims
quite rationally was an accident.

[INTERCOM BUZZES]

DELLA [OVER INTERCOM]:
I called Pete Griston's apartment,

the garage, the track.

I can't locate him.

Try the hospital.

Well, was it an accident?

Here, see what you think.

I managed to sneak a few sh*ts
of Ryan's gear train

before the police lab picked it up.

Oh, I can see
where the teeth are stripped.

DRAKE: That's Ryan's beef.
They were torn clean.

He claims they were weakened.

How does Stone explain it?

Same as Rettig.
Bad design, couldn't stand the stress.

[INTERCOM BUZZES]

DELLA:
No luck at the hospital, Perry.

Any other ideas?

Yeah, try that supercilious crank.

Um, what's-his-name
from Car Racing Magazine?

Platte.

I ran into him in Rettig's office.

He's supposed to have an interview
with Griston today.

DELLA [OVER INTERCOM]:
Will do, thanks.

I can't see
that the condition of this gear

is sufficient to indict Pete and Rettig.

Indict them on what charge?

Well, sabotage.

Well, that means the lab report
has Burger convinced

he can make it stick.

And that means
if Blake Leonard dies,

someone's gonna be charged
with m*rder.

[CAR HORN HONKS]

Hi, kid, what's new?

- Did you see Rettig?
- Nope. I'm waiting for him.

I may keep him a minute.

Take your time, baby.
Heh, you're the fair-haired boy.

Not anymore.
I'm not driving Saturday.

Oh?

Hey, Pete, we heard you won't drive
this heap for Rettig Saturday.

I wouldn't drive anything for him.
Where is he?

In the office,
in a pretty bad mood too.

Well, mine's worse. He's got me
mixed up in one of his deals.

If he doesn't come up
with straight answers,

- I'll break every bone in his body.
- Heh, help yourself.

I wouldn't be in Rettig's shoes
right now for top money at Sebring.

Well, that's the way it is
with married couples and partners.

A little fight every once in a while
is normal.

I'll lay you -to- Pete clobbers him.
He's boiling.

[THUDDING AND CRASHING]

Gee, Pete, he ain't breathing.

PETE:
So I opened the door

and stepped right in.

Right then I got hit
on the back of the head.

Rettig must have been behind
the door.

Did you see him?

No, everything got black
and full of sparks.

I tried to hit back, I remember that.

Did you connect?

I don't know, Perry.

The next thing I knew Joe and Mitch
were picking me up off the floor.

Mr. Griston,
would you please come in here?

Now, would you assume the position
you were in when they found you?

You say that you were struck
from behind?

Yeah.

Well, then, how did Rettig's body
get in front of you?

PETE:
I don't know.

Do you remember grabbing this?

No.

DRUMM:
You should have remembered.

You k*lled him with it.

That assumption is premature,
lieutenant.

I don't think so, Perry.

Not unless he can explain the position
of the body.

I can't explain it.
I told you, he hit me from behind.

Yes, there's quite a bump there.

The doc said
it was open and bleeding.

Yeah.

I was told that you had an accident
this morning in your auto.

- Hurt your head.
- Mm-hm.

The doc also said you could have
started the bleeding again

if you had ripped off the plaster.

Now, listen, lieutenant--

Just a minute, I'll listen.

First, you insist

that Rettig struck you from behind
with a wrench, is that right?

PETE: I guess it was with a wrench.
He was holding it.

Rettig couldn't have struck you
with that wrench, Mr. Griston.

The arm that was holding it
is broken.

What are you getting at, Steve?

Rettig's arm is broken

as though it were held up
to protect his head.

Now, it could be that he was trying
to protect himself from Griston.

It could be
that Griston m*rder*d him.

Then to cover it up,

pulled the plaster off his head,
opening the wound,

and then acted dazed
when these two fellows came in.

It all could be.

Were there fingerprints
on the w*apon?

No, it was too greasy.
They were smudged.

Who else was here tonight?

Pappy Ryan,
but he left before Pete arrived.

I have a call out for him.
He isn't home.

Perry, I'm gonna have
to take your client in to custody.

Let's go.

Did he do it?
Did he really knock Harvey off?

I'm Dan Platte, press pass.
And you are Perry Mason.

Ha, ha, I read as well as write.

You know, I just tried to call Harvey,
but a policeman answered the phone.

Do they have a line on the k*ller yet?

The police don't keep me
that closely informed, Mr. Platte.

Well, what about suspects? They must
be breathing hard after somebody?

You'll have to ask them.

Well, if you don't feel
like answering questions,

how about asking them?

I've seen you in court.
You're good at it.

Thank you. What sort of questions?

Oh, like, uh,

"Mr. Platte, where were you
when Rettig was k*lled?"

- You consider yourself a suspect?
PLATTE: Don't you?

It happens that I was
at County General Hospital

trying to see Blake Leonard.

I wanted to do
a human interest yarn

on how it feels
to know you'll never drive again.

Mr. Platte,
I realize you're the sort of man

who revels
in being the center of attention.

But let me advise you,

deliberately courting suspicion
of m*rder

doesn't make you appear heroic.

You're gonna ask me
to drop the charges, right?

You're gonna tell me
he's got new troubles now,

so why don't I have a heart?

Heh, sorry, mister, no heart.

I wanna ask you
about Harvey Rettig.

I got no time to gab,
I got a car to test.

Not my own.

But when your big chance
goes down the drain,

you still gotta eat.

- So long, mister.
- I'll wait.

I'll be a while.

I'll wait.

You don't have to wait. Climb in.

We'll talk while we take a little run
around the track.

Get this guy a helmet.

Coming?

Okay, you wanted to talk.

Now that you're out of the race,
who do you pick to win?

- It depends.
- On what?

On whether or not Rettig's car goes.

After what happened to him.

You saw Rettig last night?

Sure I saw him. What about it?

Was he alive when you left?

You got a lot of guts, mister.

That doesn't answer my question.

Yes, he was alive when I left.

Who can testify to that?

The mechanics, Mitch and Joe.
They saw me leave.

And at that time,
Rettig was on the telephone

calling the telegraph company.
You can check that.

I will.

They want the track cleared.

That's too bad.

[KNOCKING ON DOOR]

Forgive me for intruding,
Mrs. Leonard.

The nurse said
you wouldn't come out.

MARGE: My husband
can't be disturbed, Mr. Mason.

I won't disturb your husband.

All right, come in.

What do you want?

Was Dan Platte here last night?

Yes, for a while.

- What time did he leave?
- I don't know.

The nurse said he wanted to see Blake
and I wouldn't let him in.

What's so important
about the time he left?

Harvey Rettig is dead, Mrs. Leonard.

You mean m*rder*d, Mr. Mason.

I read the newspapers.

If Rettig was still alive,
I'd k*ll him myself for what he did.

Where were you around :
last night?

Right here with my husband.

Perry, Ryan's story checks out.

Rettig did send a cable to Rome.

The telegraph company has it marked
: .

- Mechanics?
- Say that Ryan left at : .

They remember because he made
a cr*ck about them working overtime.

Hmm.
What was the message, Paul?

"Received report that deal is off.
Gear principle unsafe.

Advise against further use.
Will explain later."

- Signed, Rettig.
- Received report.

Rettig received a cable
earlier from Rome, at : .

"Tested prototype.
Your gear principle a sensation.

If we win Grand Prix, our deal final."

This one signed Pinierri.

- Paul, by any chance--
- We were in luck.

The same clerk who received
the message also took the answer.

- Says it was the same voice.
- Hmm.

Paul,
having the words is a good start.

Now we need the translation.

STONE:
Come in.

Make yourselves comfortable.

Would you care for some sherry?

- Thank you.
- I won't be a minute.

Money. Lots and lots of money.

- Oh, don't be too sure.
- Huh?

When we called,
he answered the phone.

When we rang,
he answered the door.

Now he's getting the sherry.

Money or a front?

Professor, would you tell the audience
what's written in the lady's watchband?

- One dollar, .
- Right you are, professor.

A terrible business,
Rettig's being k*lled.

Awful publicity for us.

I'm sure it must upset you.

Your association with auto racing
must bring you into contact

with many people in the sport.

Oh, yes.

Our family has been awarding
the Stone Trophy for many years.

I know most of them
very well indeed.

Who's Pinierri?

Inzo Pinierri, a top Italian driver
and sports car builder.

Why do you ask?

Any idea
why he would contact Rettig?

Perhaps Rettig did some work for him,
I don't know.

[PHONE RINGING]

Thank you.

Stone residence.

This is Mr. Stone speaking.

Yes, just a moment please.

- For you.
- Thank you.

Hello? Yes, Della?

DELLA:
One of your operatives checked in.

He found out who loaned
Harvey Rettig the $ , .

Yes?

He owns a bar
on the east side of town,

is a gambler and a bookmaker,
and his name is Marty Webb.

I know him.

DELLA:
Well, your man contacted Webb.

He claims the note has
Pete Griston's signature.

I'll tell Perry.

This fills the one blank
in Burger's case.

Why didn't you tell me
your signature was on that note?

I didn't know about it till last night.

I signed so many things, Perry.

I was supposed to do the driving

and Rettig was gonna handle
the business.

He'd come out to the track
with a whole briefcase

full of stuff for me to sign
and just shove it in front of me.

You said you knew
about your signature last night. How?

Webb. Marty Webb, the guy
who made the loan to Rettig.

He was outside the garage last night
when I went to see Rettig.

Why was he there?

I guess to make sure
I was gonna drive Saturday.

And that's when he told me
about the deal.

And you told him
you weren't driving.

Yeah. Boy, he blew a gasket.

That's when he showed me the note
with my signature on it.

He said he'd break both of us,
Rettig and me,

if I didn't drive Saturday and win.

That was another thing
I was gonna discuss with my partner

if I'd had the chance.

Can you imagine
what Hamilton Burger will do

with that information?

But he doesn't know.
You're the only one I've told.

And there was no record of it
when you and the DA and the police

searched Rettig's office
and apartment.

Burger will still find out.

- Well, how?
- From Webb.

Yes, so you're Perry Mason, huh?
Heh, I'm Marty Webb.

And my friend, Paul Drake.

I know a private d*ck
when I see one.

Even when he's gotten flush enough
to run the town's biggest agency.

No offense, buddy.

What can I do for you, Mason?

I'd like to talk with you about a loan
you made to Harvey Rettig.

I read he got hit, pfft,
but I didn't have nothing to do with it.

k*lling ain't one of my rackets.

How did you overlook it?

Don't get funny.

The loan, Mr. Webb.

Yeah, I gave him G's.

At what interest, percent?

No interest.

I figured to come out on the race
Saturday.

He guaranteed me
Pete Griston was gonna win it.

How could he guarantee that?

By forcing every other car
with a chance to win out of the race?

Hmm, you said it, I didn't.

From what I understand, though,
he did a pretty good job of that.

Rettig also said it.

Remember the note Pete Griston
told us about in Rettig's office file?

You mean concerning
his arrangement with Mr. Webb?

Now, wait a minute,

don't try to tie me in
with anything Rettig pulled.

- Sure, I wanted Pete to win.
- Why?

Heh, my bets, what else?

I laid a pretty healthy bundle,
and the odds were right.

Did Mr. Rettig give you any explanation
of why he needed the $ , ?

Yeah, he said he had the deal
of his life in the palm of his hand,

but he needed G's
to sew up a couple of guys.

MASON:
What couple of guys?

How do you know
there was anyone else involved?

Because one of them come
to see me.

Who?

I said all I'm gonna.

I'd like to know the name of the man
who came to see you, Mr. Webb.

Is that so?

Then go find him
and quit bugging me.

- I got my own problems.
- Yes, you have.

One problem
being a logical explanation

of your presence
outside Rettig's garage

the night he was k*lled.

And then there's the note
in his office file in Rettig's handwriting

describing his arrangement
with you.

So?

So when the district attorney finds it
and realizes its significance,

he'll have a pretty strong basis
for a charge of fraud against you.

Heh, you really scare me, counselor.

I'm all upset.

[WEBB CHUCKLES]

Well, we baited the hook again.

The question is who's gonna bite?

I told the district attorney's office
you were going in here again,

but how could you have missed
anything before,

the way Steve Drumm's men
go over a place?

Della, primarily due to Paul's talent
as a con man,

Stone, Ryan, Platte, and Mr. Webb
have reason to believe

there's something
in Rettig's office files

that incriminates them, individually.

If one of them shows up,
what have we proven?

Which of them had access to Rettig's
office through the rear door, we hope.

That's if one of our fish
does take the bait.

I'll be right across the street.

If I spot anyone,
I'll ring the office phone twice.

MASON:
Sit down, Della.

I'll only be a second, buddy.
I gotta call my wife.

If I don't, she gets mad.

DELLA [WHISPERS]:
Perry.

DRAKE:
Will you get--? Look, this is urgent.

My wife, you know,
she talks, talks, talks.

[GASPS]

Who is it?

Harvey Rettig's personal file.

Give it back to me, please.

Mrs. Leonard, you're putting yourself
in an indefensible position.

I can take care of myself.
Don't worry about me.

[MARGE GASPS]

Thanks for the telephone call.

Well, there was this drunk,
and he was talking to--

Oh, never mind.

I think we're entitled to an explanation,
Mrs. Leonard.

First, what's in there?

This would prove why Harvey Rettig
deliberately caused that accident

that nearly k*lled my husband.

And what were you planning to do
with it?

Well, leave it here
so it could be found by the police.

Why did you have to break in here?
Why not just give it to the police?

Because I--

I would have to explain to them
where I got it and how and when.

MASON: You got it by letting yourself
in the rear door

as you did just now.

And on the night Harvey Rettig
was m*rder*d.

Before he was m*rder*d.

I was opening the file, and--

and I heard Rettig
coming in through the shop.

Well, I ran.

With your husband gravely injured
and in the hospital,

apparently put there by Rettig,
you had motive and opportunity.

I didn't k*ll Harvey Rettig,
Mr. Mason.

I'm not the district attorney,
Mrs. Leonard.

What I think is not important.

But I am Pete Griston's attorney,

and I wanna know how you managed
to open that back door.

Well, everybody knew how to open
that back door.

- Everybody?
- Well, everyone who knew Rettig.

That's how he opened it,
with a nail file.

It was a running joke.

Didn't turn out to be too funny
to Rettig.

Well,
I'm not going to say anything else.

Now, if you wanna call the police,
call them and get it over with.

MASON:
Mrs. Leonard,

you may go,

and I hope you have a license
for that g*n.

Good night, Mrs. Leonard.

Now, let's see what's in here.

Here we are, Perry.

A copy of the note to Marty Webb
for $ , ,

signed by Harvey Rettig
and Pete Griston.

Here's some correspondence
from Rome, from Pinierri.

"And all the tests
are proving satisfactory.

We are elated
with your new gear design.

If it proves out in competition,

we will make a fortune together
in European sales alone."

Rettig's design.
I thought you said it was Ryan's?

MASON:
So I was led to believe.

Dan Platte of Racing Car Magazine
has been here for the past two days

and has been very interested
in the new principle.

He's promised to do an article
about it.

I don't understand how Rettig can sell
Ryan's design.

It's called piracy, Della.
Good old-fashioned piracy.

Perry, what do you make of the deal
with Marty Webb?

Rettig needed a large sum of money
and was so eager to get it,

he agreed to Webb's terms.
He had to win that race.

But I don't understand
why he needed it so badly.

His cash position wasn't good,

but the partnership
certainly wasn't bankrupt.

DRUMM:
Good evening, everybody.

- Hi, lieutenant.
- Hello, Paul.

Lieutenant Drumm,
what a pleasant surprise.

Thank you, Della.

And now may I present
our police stakeout?

He tells me there's been an awful lot
of traffic going through here.

Oh, by the way, Perry,

I spoke to Mrs. Leonard
before I sent her downtown.

Now, I know that you wouldn't
intentionally withhold information,

even if it incriminated your client.

Steve, if there ever was doubt
as to his innocence,

that doubt is now gone.

- Steve.
- Yes.

Well, we've got to have it all.

So my accountant said,
"Terrance, my boy,

you've just bought Uncle Sam
a new destroyer.

[ALL LAUGH]

Hello, counselor,
why don't you join us?

CLAY: Aah.
And try the chowder, it's delicious.

DRUMM: What did you do,
strain it over two clams?

I'll send you a waiter.
He gets paid to be insulted.

[CLAY CHUCKLES]

Well, I have to go back to my office
in a few minutes,

but I wouldn't pass up a chance
to bait the district attorney.

BURGER: Pump the district attorney,
that what you mean?

Would you care for a review?

The defendant's wounds,

the result of his automobile accident
that same morning.

His dazed condition, playacting.

His position relative to the position
of the dead body,

highly suspect.

And as to his motives,

I've got a parade of witnesses
to testify to the hatred that existed

between your client and his victim.

You do of course know
about the back door.

BURGER:
Locked from the inside.

I've been told
that everyone who knew Rettig

knew about the back door,

including Marge Leonard
who you picked up last night.

- Why--
- Well, who else, for example,

knew about it
except the lady you mentioned?

Oh, Dan Platte,
Oliver Stone, Pappy Ryan.

And your client?

All of those people are gonna be
at that racetrack inquiry

- this afternoon, aren't they?
- They'll be there.

That racetrack accident
seemed to set off a chain of events

leading up to Rettig's m*rder.

I think I'd better be there myself.

I have some questions
I'd like to ask.

This will all become part of the record
for the track commission.

I appreciate your attendance here
this afternoon,

and I can assure
you that my first and only concern is--

What are you doing here?

This isn't an open inquiry.

Don't con me, mister.
I got your wire, so I'm here.

I sent you no telegram.

Now, listen, wise guy.

PAUL:
Sit down, Mr. Webb.

- I don't know what's going on here.
PAUL: Be patient, you'll find out.

Uh, Mr. Mason,
I believe you started to ask me...

Perhaps Mr. Platte
would be able to answer.

Although, Mr. Platte,
I realize you're actually an outsider,

- not really involved in the sport.
- Who says I'm an outsider?

I'm as much a part of racing
as any of these people.

No offense, Mr. Platte. I meant...

I meant, well,
you weren't personally involved.

As a writer, you knew Mr. Rettig,
but not on a personal basis.

You didn't, for instance, know about
the rear entrance to Rettig's office.

Sure, I did.

Did you use that door to visit Rettig?

Sure, I--

But I didn't visit him very often.

Why should I?

Perhaps to talk with him

about how well his new equipment
was working out in Italy.

PLATTE: I don't know
about any equipment in Italy.

That's strange.

There was a letter from Pinierri
saying that you had seen it

and that you would write about it.

Well, you know how it is
with a writer.

Everyone has a story to tell him.

So you make them feel good
when you say you'll write it up.

In other words, you're a phony.

- What?
- Phony, Mr. Platte.

You tell people you'll write about them
or their products

just so they'll fawn over you
and give you special attention.

That's not so.
I write up a lot of things.

Would you have written
about something

as revolutionary
as a new gear design?

PLATTE: Of course.
MASON: Then why didn't you?

Well, I was waiting until--

Until what, Mr. Platte?

Until you had spent
all your pay-off money from Rettig,

money paid to you to bury the story.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

I'm talking about the fact
that you stumbled on

to a unique gear modification in Italy

which Rettig claimed
as his own design,

but which was actually pirated
from Mr. Ryan.

You knew it
and you didn't open your mouth.

You can't prove anything.

MASON:
I think we already have.

Unless you have another way
to account

for certain
personal financial transactions

since your return from Italy.

PLATTE:
All right.

Yes,

I received money from Rettig
not to write the article,

but it was offered to me by Rettig.

You can't prove I demanded it.
You can't prove blackmail.

I wonder if Mr. Rettig could,

were he alive.

It was your pressure on Rettig
that was a prime mover

for much of what happened,
Mr. Platte.

And of course Rettig's attempts
to force Pete Griston

into driving against his will

only added to Griston's motives
for k*lling him.

Oh, Pete wasn't the only one
with a motive.

Someone else was involved
with Rettig.

Perhaps that person found it
necessary to cover up the fact.

Mr. Webb,
who else was in on that deal?

Now, listen, I ain't under oath.

I don't have to answer questions,
and I won't without my lawyer.

This is an informal gathering.
You're under no compulsion.

However, in court tomorrow,
we'll do it properly for you.

Bring your lawyer, by all means.
I assure you we'll put you under oath.

Okay, okay.

He's the guy.

And he got me out here
with this telegram.

"Must see you, race marshal's tent,
this date p.m."

Signed, Oliver Stone.

He's lying. I sent no such telegram.

And I wasn't part of any deal.

One thing at a time.

What about the deal, Mr. Webb?

Well, after Rettig was knocked off,
I wanted to call it off.

How?

Hadn't you made your bets
on the future book at long odds?

Then there was no way
you could cancel,

even if Rettig's car didn't run.

[CHUCKLES]

But if there weren't any race at all...

So you contacted Mr. Stone
and told him to cancel.

I called him.

Then he come around to see me,

blowing his stack
about the race had to go on,

all about the good name of Stone
and family tradition.

RYAN:
I thought you were in it.

That's why you disqualified my car.

No. No, I wouldn't.

I have my reputation to think of.

Your reputation is very dear to you,
isn't it?

Your involvement with Rettig
could have had you

permanently barred from racing,
couldn't it, Mr. Stone.

Oh, please,
you must keep this quiet.

I needed the money from Rettig
to keep my home,

to continue sponsoring the race.

I couldn't bear
to have anyone find out.

You waited for that gear to fall apart,
didn't you?

You knew it would.

You disqualified my car.

On proper grounds.

The technical men didn't think
the gear principle looked safe.

And you saw what happened
on the track. It fell apart.

You all saw it.

I didn't know anything more,
just that the gear was unsafe.

That's a lie.

You just made it look that way
to cover your own tracks.

No, Rettig could tell you--

He would have told you--

But he can't tell us a thing now,
can he?

Mr. Mason, what are you saying?

I tell you,
I thought the gear was unsafe.

Liar. You and Rettig both said that
to protect yourselves.

But, Mr. Ryan, Rettig built it for you.

Built it and stole it.
Don't you see, Mason?

Rettig was afraid
that if I raced that car,

the word would get out
about my gear principle.

But after the accident,

when he knew I was onto him,
he got scared.

That's why he was covering up
as fast as Stone was.

How?

Well, that's why he sent the cable
to Pinierri, calling the deal off.

How did you know
what was in the cable, Mr. Ryan?

Only Mr. Burger,
the telegraph company and I

were given that information.

Well, I overheard Rettig
on the phone.

You said you left
as he was placing the call.

Well, yes. Yes, I did, but--

Mr. Ryan, it's very easy to send a wire
and sign someone else's name.

In fact, that's how Mr. Webb
came to be here.

He received a telegram
in Mr. Stone's name.

Now, Mr. Ryan,
you knew what was in that cable

because you sent it.

Joe, didn't Mr. Ryan arrive
before Rettig?

Didn't you let him in?

- Didn't you let him wait in the office?
- Yeah, I did.

Mr. Ryan,
you received the first cable.

That's why the telegraph operator said
the same voice

received and sent the messages.

You knew what was going on

as soon as you heard
Pinierri's message.

You became enraged.

And when Rettig came in,

you turned on him
and you k*lled him.

BURGER:
Yes, that makes sense.

You left the garage then,

making sure these men,
Joe and Mitch,

knew what time you left.

You came around to the rear,
let yourself in,

and then you sent a cable to Pinierri
in Italy,

making it look
as though Rettig were still alive.

There's one point
I don't understand, Mr. Ryan.

Why did you tell Pinierri
the deal was off?

Why did you tell him
the gear principle was unsafe?

Because I didn't want him to have it.

It was mine. He had no right.

He had no right.

You had no right to k*ll.

Blake, this is really something.

Why don't you get in, try it?

Sure, if you can fold those long legs
in there. Here you are.

Sure like to drive one of these
one day.

You'd be great at it.

He's known
as the Terror of the Freeways.

I am undoubtedly
the world's safest driver.

You ought to wear
one of those helmets more often.

It makes you look so dashing.

Say, listen, Perry, I don't know
when I'm gonna be able to pay you.

It took all the money I could scrape up
to get the car ready.

You just win our first race next week,
partner.

You do that, Pete,

and we'll put half the purse
in the Pay Perry fund.

Ha, ha, there's no rush about that.

As attorney for the new
Leonard-Griston combine,

I wanna be sure this company
is solvent right from the start.

Well, I didn't know I was gonna have
a passenger on my first spin.

Company?

He'll probably drive it for you.

- I just might do that.
- Yeah, that's him, Daredevil Drake.

But I, uh, remembered
I have an appointment.

Hey, wait a minute,
let me out of this thing!

[DELLA LAUGHING]