MAN ON RADIO:
Men, are you over 40?
When you wake up in
the morning, do you
feel tired and rundown?
Do you have that
listless feeling?
(CHANGES STATION)
(MUSIC PLAYING)
(ALARM RINGING)
(CHILDREN CHATTERING)
(PHONE RINGING)
Jefferies.
GUNNISON:
Congratulations, Jeff.
For what?
For getting rid
of that cast.
Who said I was
getting rid of it?
This is Wednesday.
Seven weeks from
the day you broke
your leg. Yes or no?
Gunnison, how did you ever
get to be such a big editor
with such a small memory?
Thrift, industry
and hard work.
And catching
the publisher with
his secretary.
Did I get
the wrong day?
No.
No, wrong week.
Next Wednesday
I emerge from this
plaster cocoon.
That's too
bad, Jeff.
Well, I guess I can't
be lucky every day.
Forget I called.
Yeah, I sure
feel sorry for
you, Gunnison.
Must be rough on you
thinking of me wearing this
cast for another whole week.
That one week is
gonna cost me my
best photographer
and you a big
assignment.
Where?
There's no point in
even talking about it.
Oh, come on,
come on. Where?
Kashmir.
Got a code tip
from the bureau
chief this morning.
The place is about
to go up in smoke.
What did I tell you?
Didn't I tell you that's
the next place to watch?
You did.
Okay. When do I leave?
Half-hour? Hour?
With that cast
on? You don't.
Stop sounding stuffy.
I can take pictures
from a jeep or a water
buffalo, if necessary.
You're too valuable
to the magazine for
us to play around with.
I'll send Morgan
or Lambert.
Morgan or Lambert.
That's fine.
I get myself
half-k*lled
for you,
and you reward
me by stealing
my assignments.
I didn't ask you to stand
in the middle of that
automobile racetrack.
You asked for something
dramatically different.
You got it.
So did you.
Goodbye, Jeff.
Now wait a minute,
Gunnison. You've got
to get me out of here.
Six weeks sitting in
a two-room apartment
with nothing to do but
look out the window
at the neighbors.
Bye, Jeff.
No, Gunnison, I. . .
If you don't pull me out
of this swamp of boredom,
I'm gonna do
something drastic.
Like what?
"Like what?"
I'm gonna get married.
And then I'll never
be able to go anywhere.
It's about time
you got married,
before you turn
into a lonesome
and bitter old man.
Yeah, can't you
just see me?
Rushing home to
a hot apartment
to listen to the
automatic laundry and
the electric dishwasher
and the garbage
disposal and the
nagging wife.
Jeff, wives don't nag
anymore, they discuss.
Is that so?
Is that so?
Well, maybe in the
high-rent district
they discuss.
In my neighborhood,
they still nag.
Yeah? Well, you know best.
I'll call you later, Jeff.
Yeah, have some
good news the
next time, huh?
Good morning.
I said,
"Good morning !"
Oh, good morning.
Say, I wouldn't dig
so deep if I were you.
You're giving them
far too much water.
Why don't
you shut up?
Well !
I do declare.
New York State sentence
for a Peeping Tom is six
months in the workhouse.
Oh, hello, Stella.
And they got
no windows in
the workhouse.
You know, in the old days,
they used to put your eyes
out with a red-hot poker.
Any of those bikini bombshells
you're always watching
worth a red-hot poker?
Oh, dear. We've become
a race of Peeping Toms.
What people ought to do is
get outside their own house
and look in for a change.
Yes, sir.
How's that for a bit
of homespun philosophy?
Reader's Digest,
April, 1 939.
Well, I only quote
from the best.
Yeah.
You don't have to take my
temperature this morning.
Quiet. See if you
can break 1 00.
You know, I should have
been a gypsy fortune-teller
instead of an
insurance-company
nurse.
I got a nose for trouble.
Can smell it ten miles away.
You heard of that
market crash in '29?
I predicted that.
(MUMBLING)
Just how did you
do that, Stella?
Oh, simple.
I was nursing
a director of
General Motors.
"Kidney ailment,"
they said.
"Nerves," I said.
Then I asked myself,
"What's General Motors
got to be nervous about?"
"Overproduction,"
I says. "Collapse."
When General Motors
has to go to the
bathroom 1 0 times a day,
the whole country's
ready to let go.
You know, Stella,
in economics,
a kidney ailment
has no relationship
to the stock market.
None whatsoever.
Crashed,
didn't it?
I can smell
trouble right here
in this apartment.
First you smash your
leg, then you get to
looking out the window,
see things
you shouldn't
see. Trouble.
I can see you
in court now,
surrounded by a
bunch of lawyers in
double-breasted suits.
You're pleading. You say,
"Judge, it was only a
little bit of innocent fun.
"I love my neighbors,
like a father."
And the judge says,
"Well, congratulations.
"You've just given birth
to three years in Dannemora."
Right now I'd welcome
trouble, you know.
You've got a
hormone deficiency.
How can you tell
from a thermometer?
Those bathing beauties
you've been watching
haven't raised your
temperature one
degree in a month.
Here we go.
One more week.
No, I think you're right.
I think there is gonna be
trouble around here.
I knew it.
Ooh !
Do you ever
heat that stuff?
Gives your circulation
something to fight.
Oh, I see.
What kind
of trouble?
Lisa Fremont.
You kidding?
She's a beautiful
young girl, and you're a
reasonably healthy young man.
She expects me
to marry her.
That's normal.
I don't want to.
That's abnormal.
I just. . . I'm not
ready for marriage.
Every man's ready
for marriage when the
right girl comes along.
And Lisa Fremont is
the right girl for any
man with half a brain
who can get
one eye open.
She's all right.
What'd you do,
have a fight?
No.
Father loading
up the shotgun?
What?
Please, Stella.
It's happened
before, you know.
Some of the world's
happiest marriages
have started
"under the g*n,"
as you might say.
No, she's just not
the girl for me.
Yeah, she's
only perfect.
She's too perfect. She's too
talented. She's too beautiful.
She's too sophisticated.
She's too everything
but what I want.
Is what you want
something you
can discuss?
What? It's very
simple, Stella.
She belongs to that
rarefied atmosphere
of Park Avenue, you know.
Expensive restaurants and
literary c*ck parties.
People with sense
belong wherever
they're put.
Can you imagine her
traveling around the
world with a camera bum
who never has more
than a week's salary
in the bank?
If she was
only ordinary.
You never gonna
get married?
I'll probably get
married one of
these days,
but when I do, it's
gonna be to someone
who thinks of life
not just as a new
dress and a
lobster dinner
or latest scandal.
I need a woman who's
willing to. . . Hold it.
Who's willing to go anywhere
and do anything and love it.
So the honest thing for
me to do is just call
the whole thing off.
Let her find
somebody else.
Yeah, I can
hear you now.
"Get out of my life,
you perfectly
wonderful woman.
"You're too
good for me."
Look, Mr. Jefferies,
I'm not an
educated woman,
but I can tell
you one thing.
When a man and a
woman see each other
and like each other,
they ought to come together,
wham, like a couple of taxis
on Broadway,
and not sit around analyzing
each other like two
specimens in a bottle.
There's an intelligent way
to approach marriage.
Intelligence.
Nothing has caused
the human race so much
trouble as intelligence.
(SCOFFS) Modern marriage.
No, we've
progressed
emotionally.
Baloney.
Once it was, "See somebody,
get excited, get married."
Now it's, "Read a lot of
books, fence with a lot
of four-syllable words,
"psychoanalyze
each other
"until you can't tell
the difference between
"a petting party and
a civil service exam."
People have different
emotional levels. . .
When I married Myles,
we were both a couple
of maladjusted misfits.
We are still maladjusted
misfits, and we have loved
every minute of it.
Well, that's
fine, Stella.
Now, would
you fix me a
sandwich, please?
Yes, I will.
And I'll spread
a little common
sense on the bread.
Lisa's loaded
to her fingertips
with love for you.
I got two words
of advice for
you. Marry her.
She pay you much?
Oh !
There.
Here's
the key.
Thank you.
Well, if you want
anything, just ring.
Honey.
Come on.
Got to carry you
over the threshold.
Window shopper.
(PIANO PLAYING)
(WOMAN SINGING)
How's your leg?
It hurts a little.
And your stomach?
Empty as a football.
And your love life?
Not too active.
Anything else
bothering you?
Mmm-hmm.
Who are you?
Reading from top
to bottom, Lisa
Carol
Fremont.
Is this the Lisa Fremont
who never wears the
same dress twice?
Only because it's
expected of her.
It's right off the
Paris plane. Do
you think it'll sell?
That depends on the quote,
you know. Let's see now.
There's the airplane ticket
over and import duties,
hidden taxes, profit markup. . .
A steal at $1 , 1 00.
Eleven hundred?
They ought to list
that dress on the
stock exchange.
Why, we sell a
dozen a day in
this price range.
Who buys them,
tax collectors?
Even if I had to pay,
it would be worth it.
Just for the occasion.
Why, is something big
going on somewhere?
It's going on
right here.
It's a big night.
It's just an old
run-of-the-mill Wednesday.
The calendar's full of them.
It's opening night of
the last depressing week
of L. B. Jefferies in a cast.
Well, I haven't
noticed a big demand
for tickets or anything.
That's because I
bought out the house.
You know, this
cigarette box has
seen better days.
I picked that up in
Shanghai, which has
also seen better days.
It's cracked and
you never use it.
It's too ornate.
I'm sending up a plain,
flat, silver one with
just your initials engraved.
That's no way
to spend your
hard-earned money.
Well, I wanted to.
Oh !
What would you think
of starting off
with dinner at '21 '?
You have, perhaps, an
ambulance downstairs?
No, better
than that. '21 .'
Thank you for waiting,
Carl. The kitchen's
right there on the left.
Oh, I'll take
the wine.
Good evening,
Mr. Jefferies.
Carl.
Just put everything
in the oven,
Carl, on low.
Yes, madam.
Let's open
the wine now.
JEFF: All right.
It's a
Montrachet.
A great big glassful.
There's a corkscrew
right over there.
Here, I'll do it.
Big enough?
Yeah, they're fine.
I can't think of anything
more boring or tiresome than
what you've been through,
and the last week
must be the hardest.
Let me, sir.
All right.
Yeah, I want to
get this thing off
and get moving.
Well, I'm going to
make this a week
you'll never forget.
Fine, thanks.
Just a
minute, Carl.
This will take care
of the taxi as well.
Thank you,
Miss Fremont.
Have a
pleasant dinner,
Mr. Jefferies.
All right.
Good night.
Good night.
(SIGHS) What a day
I've had.
Are you tired?
Not a bit.
I was all morning
in a sales meeting,
then I had to dash to the
Waldorf for a quick drink
with Madame Dufresne,
who's just over
from Paris with
some spy reports.
And then I had to go to '21'
and have lunch with the
Harper's Bazaar people.
And that's when
I ordered dinner.
Then I had two
fall showings
20 blocks apart.
Then I had to have
a c*ck with Leland
and Slim Hayward.
We're trying to
get his new show.
And then I had to
dash back and change.
Well, now, tell me.
Tell me. Now, what was
Mrs. Hayward wearing?
Oh, she looked
wonderfully cool.
She did.
She had on the most
divine Italian hand-print
mousseline
de soie. . .
Oh, Italian?
Oh, you.
Italian. Imagine.
To think I planted
three nice items in the
columns about you today.
You did?
You can't buy that
kind of publicity.
I know.
Someday you may want
to open up a studio
of your own here.
How would I run it
from, say, Pakistan?
Jeff. . .
Isn't it time you
came home? You could
pick your assignment.
I wish there
was one I wanted.
Make the one
you want.
You mean leave
the magazine?
Yes.
For what?
For yourself
and me.
I could get you a dozen
assignments tomorrow.
Don't laugh.
I could do it.
That's what
I'm afraid of.
Can you see me driving
down to the fashion
salon in a jeep,
wearing combat boots
and a three-day beard?
Wouldn't that
make a hit?
I could see you looking very
handsome and successful
in a dark blue flannel suit.
Let's stop talking
nonsense, shall we?
Hmm?
Guess I'd better start
setting up for dinner.
MAN: (SINGING)
To see you is to love you
And I see you everywhere
In the sunrise
In the moon glow
Any place I look you're there
To see you is to want you
And I see you all the time
On a sidewalk
In a doorway
On the lonely stairs I climb
Someday let me show you
How happy endings start
You'll find how well
I know you
'Cause to know you at all
Is to know you by heart
To see you is to love you
And you're never out of sight
And I love you
and I'll see you
In the same old dream
Tonight
Miss Lonelyheart.
At least that's
something you'll never
have to worry about.
Oh?
You can see my apartment
from here, all the way up
on 63rd Street?
No, not exactly,
but we have a
little apartment here
that's probably about
as popular as yours.
You remember,
of course, Miss Torso,
the ballet dancer?
She's like a queen bee
with her pick
of the drones.
(ALL CHATTERING)
LISA: I'd say she's doing
a woman's hardest job.
Juggling wolves.
Thank you.
Well, she picked the most
prosperous-looking one.
She's not in
love with him
or any of them.
Oh, how can you
tell that from here?
You said it resembled
my apartment, didn't you?
I hope they're
cooked this time.
(INAUDIBLE)
(WOMAN CHATTERING)
(PIANO PLAYING)
Where's that wonderful
music coming from?
Some songwriter over there
in the studio apartment.
Wow!
He lives alone. Probably
had a very unhappy marriage.
Oh, it's enchanting.
It's almost as if it
were being written
especially for us.
Hmm.
No wonder he's
having so much
trouble with it.
At least you can't say
the dinner isn't right.
Lisa, it's perfect.
As always.
There can't be that much
difference between people
and the way they live.
We all eat, talk,
drink, laugh,
wear clothes.
Well, now look. . .
If you're saying all this
because you don't want
to tell me the truth,
because you're hiding
something from me, then
maybe I can understand.
I'm not hiding
anything. It's
just that. . .
It doesn't
make sense.
What's so different about
it here from over there
or anyplace you go
that one person
couldn't live in both
places just as easily?
Some people
can. Now, if
you'll just let me. . .
What is it but traveling
from one place to
another, taking pictures?
It's just like being
a tourist on an
endless vacation.
Okay. Now
that's your opinion.
You're entitled
to it. Now, let me
give you my side.
It's ridiculous
to say that it
can only be done
by a special,
private little group
of anointed people.
I made a simple
statement, a
true statement,
but I can back it
up if you'd just
shut up for a minute.
If your opinion is as rude
as your manner, I don't
think I care to hear it.
Oh, come on now.
Simmer down.
I can't fit in here.
You can't fit in there.
I mean, according to you,
people should be born, live
and die on the same spot!
Shut up!
Did you ever eat
fish heads and rice?
Of course not.
Well, you might have
to if you went with me.
Did you ever try to keep warm
in a C-54 at 1 5,000 feet,
20 degrees below zero?
Oh, I do it all the
time. Whenever I have
a few minutes after lunch.
Did you ever get shot at?
Did you ever get run over?
Did you ever get
sandbagged at night
because somebody got
unfavorable publicity
from your camera?
Did you ever. . . Those
high heels, they'll be
great in the jungle.
And the nylons and
those six-ounce lingerie.
Three.
All right, three.
They'll make a big hit
in Finland, just before
you freeze to death.
Well, if there's one
thing I know, it's how to
wear the proper clothes.
Yeah, yeah.
Well, try and find
a raincoat in Brazil,
even when it isn't raining.
Lisa, in this job
you carry one suitcase.
Your home is
the available
transportation.
You don't sleep very
much. You bathe less.
And sometimes
the food that
you eat
is made from things that
you couldn't even look
at when they're alive.
Jeff, you don't have to be
deliberately repulsive just
to impress me I'm wrong.
Deliberately repulsive?
I'm just trying to make
it sound good.
You just have to face it,
Lisa, you're not meant
for that kind of a life.
Few people are.
You're too stubborn
to argue with.
I'm not stubborn.
I'm just truthful.
I know, a lesser man
would have told me
it was one long holiday,
and I would have
been awakened to
a rude disillusionment.
Oh, well now,
wait a minute.
Wait a minute.
If you want to get vicious
on this thing, I'd be very
happy to accommodate you.
No, I don't
particularly
want that.
So that's it?
You won't stay here,
and I can't go with you.
It would be
the wrong thing.
You don't think
either one of us
could ever change?
Right now it
doesn't seem so.
I'm in love with you.
I don't care what
you do for a living.
I'd just like to be
part of it somehow.
It's deflating to find
out the only way
I can be part of it
is to take out
a subscription
to your magazine.
I guess I'm not
the girl
I thought I was.
There's nothing
wrong with
you, Lisa.
You've got this
town in the palm
of your hand.
Not quite,
it seems.
Goodbye, Jeff.
You mean
good night.
I mean
what I said.
Well, Lisa,
couldn't we just. . .
Uh. . .
Couldn't we
just keep things
status quo?
Without any future?
When am I gonna
see you again?
Not for a
long time.
At least
not until tomorrow night.
(WOMAN SCREAMING)
(GLASS SHATTERS)
WOMAN: Don't!
(THUNDER RUMBLING)
Hey! Rain.
Grab that. The rest
of the blanket. Wait,
I'll get the clock.
Oh, no!
(ALARM RINGING)
Put it in, now.
Pull on it.
Let me do it.
In you go.
(EXCLAIMS)
No, you can't
come in. It's
much too late.
No, no, not now. Get your
foot out of the way.
No, I said good night.
What's that
supposed to be,
ma'am?
It's called
"Hunger."
You'd think the
rain would have
cooled things off.
All it did was
make the heat wet.
That's it.
That's it.
That's stiff one,
right there.
Right there.
You know, the
insurance company
would be much happier
if you'd sleep in bed
at night instead of
in that wheelchair.
How'd you know?
Eyes are
all bloodshot.
Must have been
watching out that
window for hours.
Yeah, I was.
What are you gonna do if
one of them catches you?
It depends
which one.
Miss Torso,
for example. . .
You keep your
mind off her.
She sure is the "Eat,
drink and be merry" girl.
Yeah, she'll wind up fat,
alcoholic and miserable.
Yeah.
Speaking of misery, poor
Miss Lonelyheart. She drank
herself to sleep again, alone.
Poor soul.
Oh, well.
Maybe one day she'll
find her happiness.
Yeah, and some man
will lose his.
Isn't there anybody in the
neighborhood who could cast
an eye in her direction?
I don't know.
It just might be
that the salesman
will be available soon.
Oh, him and his wife
splitting up?
I just can't
figure it.
He went out several times
last night in the rain,
carrying his sample case.
Well, he's a
salesman, isn't he?
What would he be selling
at 3:00 in the morning?
Flashlights.
Luminous dials for watches.
House numbers that light up.
I don't think so.
I don't think so.
I think he was
taking something
out of the apartment.
Uh-huh.
His personal effects.
He's gonna run out
on her, the coward.
Yeah.
Sometimes it's worse
to stay than it is to run.
Yeah, well, it takes a
particularly low type of man
to do a thing like that.
How about this morning?
Any further developments?
The shades are all
drawn in the apartment.
In this heat?
Yeah.
Well, they're
up now.
Get back!
Get back!
Where do you
want me to go?
Come on, get
out of sight.
Get out of sight.
What is it?
What's the matter?
That salesman's
looking out of his
window. You see?
Get back!
He'll see you.
I'm not shy.
I've been
looked at before.
That's no
ordinary look.
That's the kind
of look a man gives
when he's afraid
somebody might
be watching him.
(WHIMPERING)
Get away from there.
Get away from there.
He'll be after you.
Go on, into the house.
Into the house.
(SHOOING)
Goodbye, Mr. Jefferies.
See you tomorrow.
Uh-huh.
And don't sleep in
that chair again.
Uh-huh.
"Uh-huh.
Uh-huh."
Great conversationalist.
Stella.
Take those binoculars
out of the case and bring
them here, will you?
Trouble.
I can smell it.
I'll be glad when
they crack that cast,
and I can get out of here.
Uh-huh.
(WOMAN WHISTLING)
(BARKING)
(WOMAN WHISTLING MELODY)
How far does a girl
have to go before
you'll notice her?
Well, if she's pretty
enough, she doesn't
have to go anywhere.
She just has to "be."
Well, ain't I?
Pay attention to me.
I'm not exactly
on the other
side of the room.
Your mind is. . .
And when I want a man,
I want all of him.
Don't you ever
have any problems?
I have one now.
So do I.
Tell me about it.
Why. . .
Why would a man leave his
apartment three times on
a rainy night with a suitcase,
and come back
three times?
He likes the way his
wife welcomes him home.
No, no. No, no.
No, no. Not this
salesman's wife.
And why didn't he
go to work today?
Homework. It's
more interesting.
What's interesting
about a butcher knife
and a small saw
wrapped in newspaper?
Hmm?
Nothing,
thank heaven.
Why hasn't he been
in his wife's
bedroom all day?
I wouldn't dare
answer that.
Well, listen. I'll
answer it, Lisa. There's
something terribly wrong.
And I'm afraid
it's with me.
What do you think?
Something too
frightful to utter.
He went out a few minutes
ago in his undershirt,
hasn't come back yet.
That'd be a
terrible job
to tackle.
(PIANO PLAYING)
Just how would you start
to cut up a human body?
Jeff, I'll be honest
with you. You're beginning
to scare me a little.
Jeff, did you hear
what I said? You're
beginning to scare. . .
Shh ! Shh !
He's coming back!
Jeff, if you could
only see yourself!
What's the matter?
Sitting around
looking out of the window
to k*ll time is one thing,
but doing it the way
you are, with binoculars
and wild opinions
about every
little thing you
see, is diseased !
What, do you think I
consider it recreation?
I don't know what
you consider it,
but if you don't stop it,
I'm getting out of here.
What's the. . .
What is it you're
looking for?
I just want to find out
what's the matter with the
salesman's wife, that's all.
Does that make me
sound like a madman?
What makes you think
there's something
the matter with her?
A lot of things.
She's an invalid. She
demands constant care.
Yet neither the husband
or anybody else has been
in to see her all day. Why?
Maybe she died.
Where's the doctor?
Where's the undertaker?
She could
be sleeping,
under sedatives.
He's in there now.
There's nothing to see.
There is something. . .
I've seen it
through that window.
I've seen bickering
and family quarrels
and mysterious trips
at night and knives
and saws and ropes.
And now,
since last evening,
not a sign of the wife.
All right.
Now you tell me
where she is.
I don't know.
What's she doing?
Where is she?
Maybe he's leaving
his wife. I don't know.
I don't care!
Lots of people have
knives and saws and
ropes around their houses.
And lots of men
don't speak to
their wives all day.
Lots of wives nag
and men hate them
and trouble starts,
but very, very few of them
end up in m*rder, if that's
what you're thinking.
It's pretty hard for
you to keep away
from that word, isn't it?
You could see all that
he did, couldn't you?
Of course. . .
You could see
because the shades
were up
and he walked along
the corridor and the street
and the backyard.
I've seen him
in the backyard,
fixing the flowers. . .
Oh, Jeff, do you think
a m*rder*r would
let you see all that?
That he wouldn't
pull the shades down
and hide behind them?
Just where he's being
clever. He's being
nonchalant about it.
And that's
where you're
not being clever.
A m*rder*r would never
parade his crime in
front of an open window.
Why not?
Why, for all
you know,
there's probably something
a lot more sinister going
on behind those windows.
Where?
Oh !
(CHUCKLES)
No comment.
Let's start from
the beginning
again, Jeff.
Tell me everything
you saw
and what you
think it means.
(PHONE RINGS)
Yeah?
LISA: The name
on the second floor
rear mail box reads,
"Mr. and Mrs. Lars."
That's L-A-R-S.
Lars Thorwald.
What's the number of
the apartment house?
1 25 West
9th Street.
Thank you, dear.
Okay, chief.
What's my next
assignment?
Just go home.
All right,
but what's
he doing now?
He's just sitting
in the living room
in the dark.
Hasn't gone
near the bedroom.
Now you go home
and get some sleep.
Good night.
Good night.
DOYLE: All right.
What's it all about, Jeff?
Now look, Doyle, it's
just something I can't tell
you over the telephone.
You have to be here
and see the whole setup.
Important, huh?
Well, it's probably
nothing important at all.
It's just a little
neighborhood m*rder,
that's all.
Did you say
"m*rder," Jeff?
Yes, as a matter of fact,
I did say "m*rder."
Oh, come now.
My only thought was
throwing a little business
your way, that's all.
I figured a good detective
would jump at the chance of
something to detect.
I'm not
working.
What?
This happens to
be my day off.
Well, I usually took
my best pictures
on my day off.
I'll drop by.
Okay, Doyle. All right.
As soon as you can.
Bless your heart,
Stella. Gee whiz,
look at this.
I can't tell you
what a welcome
sight this is.
No wonder
your husband
still loves you.
The police.
What?
You called
the police.
Well, not exactly.
Not an official call.
It's just an old
friend of mine.
An old, ornery
friend of mine.
Just where do you
suppose he cut her up?
Of course.
The bathtub.
That's the only
place where he could have
washed away the blood.
He better get that
trunk out of there
before it starts to leak.
WOMAN: Harry?
Look, look,
Mr. Jefferies.
I thought Doyle would
be here by the
time the trunk left,
or I'd have called
the police. Now
we're gonna lose it.
Hold everything.
Don't do
anything foolish.
I'm just gonna
get the name off
that freight truck.
I'll keep
an eye on
the alley.
Long distance.
You didn't see the k*lling
or the body. How do you
know there was a m*rder?
Because everything
this fellow's done
has been suspicious.
Trips at night in the rain,
and knives and saws
and trunks with rope
and now this
wife that isn't
there anymore.
I admit it all has a
mysterious sound. It could
be any number of things.
m*rder's the
least plausible.
Doyle, don't
tell me he's an
unemployed magician,
amusing the neighborhood
with his sleight of hand.
Don't tell me that.
It's too obvious
and stupid a way
to commit m*rder.
In full view
of 50 windows?
Then sit over there
smoking a cigar,
waiting for the police
to come and pick him up?
All right, Officer,
do your duty.
Go over and pick him up.
Jeff, you've got
a lot to learn
about homicide.
Why, morons have
committed m*rder
so shrewdly,
it's taken a hundred
trained police minds
to catch them.
That salesman wouldn't
just knock his
wife off after dinner
and toss her in the trunk
and put her in storage.
I'll bet it's
been done.
Most everything's
been done, under panic.
This is a
thousand-to-one
shot.
He's still sitting around
the apartment. That man's
not panicked.
You think I
made all this up?
Well, I think
you saw something.
There's probably
a very simple
explanation for that.
For instance?
Wife took a trip.
His wife was
sick in bed.
Yeah, so
you told me.
Well, Jeff, I've
got to run along.
I won't report this to the
department. Let me poke
into it a little on my own.
No sense in your
getting a lot of
ridiculous publicity.
Thank you.
We know the wife is
gone, so I'll see if I
can find out where.
Do that.
You had any
headaches lately?
Not until you
showed up.
It'll wear off, along
with the hallucinations.
See you around.
(DOG WHINING)
Get along.
(DOG BARKING)
He has a
six months' lease.
Used up a little
more than five and
a half months of it.
He's quiet, drinks,
but not to drunkenness.
Pays his bills promptly
with money earned as a
costume jewelry salesman.
Wholesale.
Kept to himself. None
of his neighbors got
close to him or his wife.
Yeah, well, I think
they missed their
chance with her.
She never left
the apartment. . .
Where is she?
The icebox?
. . .until yesterday morning.
What time?
6:00 a.m.
6:00 a.m.
I think that's about
the time I fell asleep.
Too bad.
Thorwalds were
leaving their apartment
at just that time.
Feel a little foolish?
No, not yet.
How's your wife?
Oh, she's fine.
Who said
they left then?
Who left where?
The Thorwalds,
at 6:00 in the morning.
Oh, the building
superintendent
and two tenants.
Flat statements,
no hesitation. They jived
with the letter.
Thorwalds were on
their way to the
railroad station.
Well, now, Tom,
how could anybody
possibly guess that?
What, did they have signs
on their luggage, saying,
"Grand Central or bust?"
The superintendent
met Thorwald
on his way back.
Thorwald told him
that he'd put his wife
on a train to the country.
I see. I'd say this is
a pretty convenient guy,
this superintendent.
Have you
checked his bank
statements lately?
Huh?
Well, what good's
his information?
It's a secondhand version
of an unsupported story
by the m*rder*r
himself, Thorwald.
Now did anybody
actually see the wife
get on the train?
I hate to
remind you,
but this all started
because you said
she was m*rder*d.
Now, did anyone,
including you, actually
see her m*rder*d?
What are you doing?
Are you interested in
solving this case or in
making me look foolish?
Well, if possible, both.
Well, then, do a
good job of it.
Go over there and
search Thorwald's
apartment.
It must be
knee-deep
in evidence.
I can't do that.
Well, no, I don't mean
right now, but when he
goes out for a drink,
or a paper, or something.
What he doesn't know
won't hurt him.
I can't do that,
even if he
isn't there.
What's he. . . Does he have a
courtesy card from the police
department, or something?
Now don't
get me mad.
Not even a detective
can walk into an
apartment and search it.
If I were caught in
there, they'd have my
badge within 1 0 minutes.
All right. Make sure
you don't get caught,
that's all.
What? If you find
something, you've
got a m*rder*r,
and they don't care
anything about a
couple of house rules.
If you don't find
anything, the
fellow's clear.
At the risk of sounding
stuffy, I'd like to remind
you of the Constitution
and the phrase,
"Search warrant
issued by a judge
"who knows his Bill
of Rights verbatim."
He must ask for evidence.
Give him evidence.
Yeah, I can
hear myself.
"Your Honor, I
have a friend who's
an amateur sleuth.
"Well, the other
night after having
a heavy dinner, he. . ."
He'd throw the
New York State penal
code right in my face.
And there's
six volumes.
You know, by tomorrow
morning there may not
be any evidence left
over in that apartment.
You know that.
It's a detective's
nightmare.
What do you need
before you can search?
Tell me. Now,
what do you need?
Bloody footsteps
leading up
to the door?
One thing I don't need
is heckling. You called
me and asked for help.
Now you're behaving
like a taxpayer.
How did we ever
stand each other
in that plane
for three years
during the w*r?
I guess I'll go over to
the railroad station and
check on Thorwald's story.
Oh, forget
about the story.
Find the trunk.
Mrs. Thorwald's in it.
Oh, I almost forgot.
There was a postcard in
Thorwald's mailbox. It was
mailed 3:30 yesterday
afternoon from Merritsville.
That's 80 miles
north of here.
Message went, "Arrived okay.
Already feeling better.
"Love, Anna."
Oh. . .
Is that. . .
Anna. . . Is that
who I think it is?
Mrs. Thorwald.
Oh, so anything
you need, Jeff?
You might send me
a good detective.
(SIGHS)
(WOMAN WHISTLING MELODY)
(PEOPLE CHATTERING)
(CHATTERING)
WOMAN: (SINGING)
Many dreams ago
I dreamed many dreams
Waiting for my true love
To appear
Though each night it seems
(BOTH CHATTERING)
Someone filled my dreams
(CAR HORN BLARING)
Still the face
That I kissed wasn't clear
So I let my heart dance
To many sweet refrains
But now just one song
And just one dream remains
That one song is you
And at last I know
You're the one I dreamed of
Many dreams ago
MRS. DOYLE: Hello?
Hello, Miss Doyle?
Yes?
This is Jeff again.
Has Tom come in yet?
Not yet, Jeff.
You mean you haven't
even heard from him?
Not a word. Is
it something really
important, Jeff?
Yeah, I'm afraid
it is, Tess.
I'll have him call
the moment I
hear from him.
No, no, don't
bother to do that.
Just have him get
over here as
soon as he can.
Looks like Thorwald's
pulling out tonight.
Who's Thorwald?
He'll know,
he'll know.
And Thorwald's
a man, Tess,
don't worry.
(CHUCKLES) Good night,
you idiot.
Good night.
Long distance again.
(INAUDIBLE)
MAN: There's somebody
at the door.
(PEOPLE CHATTERING)
Hi.
Hello.
Hello.
What'd you
do to your hair?
Oh, well,
I just sort of. . .
Take a look at Thorwald.
He's getting ready
to pull out for good.
Look at him.
He doesn't seem
to be in any hurry.
He's been laying
out all his things
on one of the beds.
Shirts, suits,
coats, socks.
Even his wife's. . .
That alligator handbag
his wife had
on the bedpost.
What about it?
He had it hidden
in the dresser.
At least, it was there.
He took it out, went to
the telephone and made
a long-distance call.
He had his
wife's jewelry
in the handbag.
Seemed worried
about it.
Asked somebody's
advice over
the telephone.
Someone not his wife.
Well, I never saw
him ask her for advice.
She volunteered plenty,
but I never saw him
ask her for any.
I wonder where
he's going.
I don't know.
Suppose he
doesn't come
back again?
He'll be back.
His things are
still there.
Well, I guess it's safe
to put on some lights now.
No, not yet!
Okay, you can turn it on
now. He must have gone
someplace to the right.
All day long, I've
been trying to keep
my mind on my work.
Thinking about Thorwald?
And you and your
friend, Doyle.
Did you hear
from him again,
since he left?
Not a word.
He said he was gonna
check the railroad
station and the trunk.
He must be
still at it.
Something on
your mind?
It doesn't make
sense to me.
What doesn't?
Women aren't that
unpredictable.
Mmm.
Well, I can't guess
what you're thinking.
A woman has a
favorite handbag
and it always hangs on
her bedpost, where she
can get at it easily.
And then, all of a sudden,
she goes away on a trip
and leaves it behind. Why?
Because she didn't know
she was going on a trip.
And where she's
going, she wouldn't
need the handbag.
Yes, but only
her husband
would know that.
And that jewelry.
Women don't keep their
jewelry in a purse
getting all twisted and
scratched and tangled up.
Well, do they
hide it in their
husband's clothes?
They do not.
And they
don't leave it
behind, either.
Why, a woman
going anywhere
but the hospital
would always take
makeup, perfume
and jewelry.
Put that over
there. That's
inside stuff, huh?
It's basic
equipment.
And you don't leave
it behind in your
husband's drawer
in your favorite handbag.
Well, I'm with you,
sweetie. I'm with you.
Tom Doyle has
a pat answer
for that, though.
That Mrs. Thorwald
left at 6:00 a.m.
yesterday with
her husband?
According to
those witnesses.
Well, I have a pat
rebuttal for Mr. Doyle.
That couldn't have
been Mrs. Thorwald,
or I don't know women.
What about
the witnesses?
We'll agree they
saw a woman,
but she was not
Mrs. Thorwald.
That is, not yet.
Is that so?
Come here.
I'd like to see
your friend's face
when we tell him.
He doesn't sound like
much of a detective.
Oh, don't be too
hard on him. He's
a steady worker.
I sure wish
he'd show up.
Don't rush him.
We have all night.
We have all what?
Night.
I'm going to
stay with you.
Well, you'll have
to clear that
with my landlord.
I have the whole
weekend off.
That's very nice,
but I just have
one bed.
If you say anything
else, I'll stay
tomorrow night, too.
I won't be able to
give you any pajamas.
You said I'll have to
live out of one suitcase.
I'll bet yours
isn't this small.
This is a suitcase?
Well, a Mark Cross
overnight case, anyway.
Compact, but
ample enough.
Looks like you
packed in a hurry.
Look at this.
Isn't that amazing?
I'll trade you. . .
My feminine intuition
for a bed for the night.
I'll go along
with that.
(PIANO PLAYING)
There's that
song again.
(ALL CHATTERING)
Where does a man get
inspiration to write
a song like that?
Well, he gets it
from the landlady
once a month.
It's utterly beautiful.
I wish I could
be creative.
Oh, sweetie,
you are.
You have a great
talent for creating
difficult situations.
I do?
Sure.
Like staying here
all night uninvited.
Surprise is
the most important
element of attack.
And besides,
you're not up on your
private eye literature.
When they're in
trouble, it's always
their Girl Friday
who gets them
out of it.
Is she the girl
that saves them
from the clutches
of the seductive showgirls
and the over-passionate
daughters of the rich?
The same.
That's the one, huh?
It's funny.
He never ends up
marrying her, does he?
That's strange.
Weird.
Why don't I slip
into something
more comfortable?
By all means.
I mean, like the kitchen
and make us some coffee.
Oh, and some
brandy, too, huh?
WOMAN: Harry.
Jeff.
Hi.
(LISA HUMMING)
(PEOPLE CHATTERING)
What else have you got
on this man Thorwald?
Well, enough to scare me
you wouldn't show up in
time and we'd lose him.
Think he's getting
out of here?
Look, he's got
everything he owns
laid out over there
in the bedroom,
waiting to be packed.
I'm just warming
some brandy.
Mr. Doyle, I presume?
JEFF: Tom, this is
Miss Lisa Fremont.
How do you do?
We think Thorwald's guilty.
Careful, Tom.
(PHONE RINGING)
Hello.
MAN: Lieutenant Doyle.
Yeah, he's right here.
For you.
Hello.
Lieutenant Doyle, sir?
Speaking.
Yeah.
All right.
I see.
Thank you.
Goodbye.
Coffee will be
ready soon.
Jeff, aren't you
going to tell him
about the jewelry?
Jewelry?
He's got his wife's jewelry
hidden in his clothes in
the bedroom over there.
You sure it
belonged to
his wife?
It was in
her favorite
handbag.
Mr. Doyle, that
can only lead to
one conclusion.
Namely?
That it was not
Mrs. Thorwald that left
with him yesterday morning.
You figured
that out, eh?
Well, it's simply
that women don't leave
their jewelry behind
when they go
on a trip.
Come on,
come on,
Tom.
Now you don't really
need any of this
information, do you?
As a matter
of fact, I don't.
Lars Thorwald
is no more a
m*rder*r than I am.
You mean to say you can
explain everything that's
gone on over there,
and is still
going on?
No, neither
can you.
That's a secret, private world
you're looking into out there.
People do a lot of things
in private they couldn't
possibly explain in public.
Like disposing
of their wives?
You get that idea out of
your mind. It'll only lead
in the wrong direction.
What about
the knife and
the saw?
Did you ever
own a saw?
Well, at home in
the garage I had. . .
How many people
did you cut up with it?
Or with the couple of
hundred knives you've probably
owned in your lifetime?
Well, your logic
is backward.
You can't ignore the wife
disappearing and the
trunk and the jewelry.
I checked the
railroad station.
He bought a ticket.
Ten minutes later,
he put his wife
on a train.
Destination, Merritsville.
The witnesses are that deep.
That might have been a
woman, but it couldn't
have been Mrs. Thorwald.
That jewelry. . .
Look, Miss Fremont.
That feminine intuition
stuff sells magazines.
But in real life,
it's still a fairy tale.
I don't know
how many wasted
years I've spent
tracking down
leads based on
female intuition.
All right. I take
it you didn't
find the trunk,
and all this is from an
old speech you once made
at the Policemen's Ball.
I found the trunk
a half-hour after
I left here.
I suppose it's normal
for a man to tie up a
trunk with heavy rope?
Well, if the lock
is broken, yes.
And what did you find
inside the trunk?
A surly note to me?
Mrs. Thorwald's clothes.
Clean, well packed.
Not stylish, but presentable.
Didn't you take them
off to the crime lab?
I sent them on their
merry and legal way.
Why, when a woman
is taking a simple,
short trip,
does she take
everything
she owns?
Let's let the female
psychology department
handle that one.
I would say it
looked as if she
wasn't coming back.
That's what's known
as a family problem.
And if she wasn't
coming back, why didn't
he tell his landlord?
I'll tell you why he didn't
tell his landlord. Because
he was hiding something.
Do you tell your
landlord everything?
I told you to
be careful, Tom.
Look, if I'd have been careful
piloting that reconnaissance
plane during the w*r,
you wouldn't
have had the chance
to take the pictures
that won you a medal,
and a good job,
and fame and money.
What do you say we all
sit down and have a nice,
friendly drink, too? Hmm?
Forget all about this.
We can tell lies
about the good old
days during the w*r.
You mean
you're through
with the case?
There is no case
to be through with,
Miss Fremont.
How about that drink?
Yeah, I guess
you're right.
Well, I think
I better get home
and get some sleep.
Cheers.
Not much of a snifter.
Oh, Jeff, if you
need any more help. . .
Consult the Yellow Pages
in your telephone directory.
Oh, I love funny
exiting lines.
Who was that trunk
addressed to?
Mrs. Anna Thorwald.
Well, then let's
wait and find out
who picks it up.
Oh, that telephone call.
I gave them your number.
I hope you don't mind.
Depends on
who they were.
The police at
Merritsville.
They reported
the trunk was
just picked up
by Mrs. Anna Thorwald.
Don't stay up too late.
(PEOPLE SINGING)
Look.
What?
JEFF: Yeah,
he's kind of
young, isn't he?
What are you doing?
(SHOUTING)
(BOTH ARGUING)
You know, much as I hate
to give Thomas J. Doyle
too much credit,
he might have gotten a hold
of something when he said
that was pretty private
stuff going on out there.
I wonder if it's ethical
to watch a man with binoculars
and a long-focus lens.
Do you. . . Do you
suppose it's ethical,
even if you prove
that he didn't
commit a crime?
I'm not much on
rear-window ethics.
Of course, they can
do the same thing to me.
Watch me like
a bug under a glass,
if they want to.
Jeff, you know, if someone
came in here, they wouldn't
believe what they'd see.
What?
You and me
with long faces.
Plunged into despair
because we find out
a man didn't k*ll his wife.
We're two of the most
frightening ghouls
I've ever known.
You'd think we could be
a little bit happy that the
poor woman is alive and well.
Whatever happened
to that old saying,
"Love thy neighbor"?
(JEFF CHUCKLES)
You know, I think
I'll start reviving
that tomorrow.
Yeah, I'll begin
with Miss Torso.
Not if I have to move
into an apartment
across the way
and do the Dance
of the Seven Veils
every hour.
Show's over
for tonight.
Preview of coming
attractions.
Did Mr. Doyle think
I stole this case?
No, Lisa, I don't
think he did.
What do you think?
Well. . .
I will rephrase
the question.
Thank you.
Do you like it?
Yes, I like it.
(WOMAN SCREAMING)
Well. . .
(WOMAN SOBBING)
WOMAN 1 : What's the matter?
(CHATTERING)
MAN 1 : Somebody's hurt?
WOMAN 2: It's the dog.
Something's
happened
to the dog.
MAN 2: What's the trouble?
Somebody fall out a window?
MAN 3: See, it's a dog
down there.
It's dead.
It's been strangled.
The neck is broken.
Which one of
you did it?
Which one of you
k*lled my dog?
You don't know the meaning
of the word "Neighbors."
Neighbors like
each other, speak
to each other,
care if anybody
lives or dies.
But none of you do!
But I couldn't imagine
any of you being so low
that you'd k*ll a little
helpless, friendly dog.
The only thing in this
whole neighborhood
who liked anybody.
Did you k*ll him
because he liked you?
Just because
he liked you?
Let's go inside.
Come on.
Let's go back in.
It's only a dog.
You know, for a minute,
that Tom Doyle almost
had me convinced I was wrong.
But you're not?
Look.
In the whole courtyard,
only one person didn't
come to the window.
Look.
Why would
Thorwald want to
k*ll a little dog?
Because it
knew too much?
You think this is worth
waiting all day to see?
LISA: Is he
cleaning house?
He's washing down
the bathroom walls.
Hmm.
Must have
splattered
a lot.
Well, why not?
That's what we're
all thinking.
He k*lled her in there,
he has to clean up those
stains before he leaves.
Oh, Stella, your
choice of words.
STELLA: Nobody ever
invented a polite
word for a k*lling yet.
Lisa? Lisa, back there,
on that shelf, there's a
little yellow box. You see it?
Top one?
Right on top, yeah.
Bring it. And bring
me the viewer there.
I just got a. . .
Now, these are
about two weeks old.
I hope I took something
else besides leg art.
Now which one. . .
What are you
looking for?
Here.
There's something, and
if I'm right, I think
I've solved a m*rder.
Mrs. Thorwald?
No.
No, the dog.
Uh-huh.
I think I know
why Thorwald
k*lled that dog.
Here, now you take
a look. Tell me
what you see.
Now take it down.
Now look again.
Now take it down.
You see?
But it's just a picture
of the backyard, that's all.
One important change.
One important change.
Those flowers in
Thorwald's pet
flower bed.
You mean where the dog
was sniffing around?
Where the dog was digging.
Now look at those flowers.
Look, right?
Those two yellow
zinnias on this end
aren't as tall
as they were.
Now, since when do
flowers grow shorter
in two weeks?
There's something
buried there.
Mrs. Thorwald.
You haven't spent much time
around cemeteries, have you?
Mr. Thorwald could
scarcely put
his wife's body
in a plot of ground
about one foot square.
Unless, of course,
he put her in
standing on end,
and then he wouldn't
need a knife and saw.
No, my idea is she's
scattered all over town.
Leg in the East River. . .
Oh, Stella, please!
No, no, no. There's
something in there.
Those flowers have
been taken out
and put back in.
Maybe it's the
knife and saw.
Yeah.
Call Lieutenant Doyle.
No, let's wait.
Let's wait till it gets
a little darker, and I'll
go over there and dig them up.
You'll go? You won't
dig anything up and
get your neck broken.
No, no, we've. . .
We're not gonna call
Doyle until I can produce
Mrs. Thorwald's body.
What we've got to do
is find a way to get
into that apartment.
He's packing.
Uh-oh.
Here, get me
a pencil.
Stella, get me some
note paper. It's up
here someplace.
There it is.
You did it,
Thorwald.
You did it.
Look out, Lisa.
He's coming.
You never should
have let her do it.
If he ever. . .
Look. Look. Look.
(SIGHS)
Well, thank heaven
that's over.
All right if I
have a drink?
Sure, go ahead.
There's no doubt about
it. He's leaving. It's
just a question of when.
Mind if I use that
portable keyhole?
Go ahead, just as long
as you tell me what
you're looking at.
STELLA: I wonder. . .
JEFF: Wonder what?
Miss Lonelyheart's
just laid out something
that looks like rhodium
tri-eckonal capsules.
You can tell
from here?
I've handled enough of
those red pills to put
everybody in Hackensack
to sleep for the winter.
Well, does she have
enough of them to. . .
No. It will make
the rest easy to. . .
Wasn't that close?
What was his reaction.
I mean, when he looked
at the note?
Well, it wasn't the kind of
an expression that would get
him a quick loan at the bank.
Jeff, the handbag !
Suppose
Mrs. Thorwald's
wedding ring
is among the jewelry
he has in that handbag?
Now, during the phone
conversation he
held up three rings.
One with a diamond,
one with a big
stone of some sort
and then just
a plain gold band.
And the last thing
she would leave behind
would be a wedding ring.
Stella, do you ever
leave yours at home?
The only way anybody could
get that ring would be to
chop off my finger.
Let's go down and find out
what's buried in the garden.
Why not? I've
always wanted to
meet Mrs. Thorwald.
What are you
two talking about?
You got a shovel?
A shovel? Of course I
don't have a shovel.
There's probably
one in the basement.
Jeff, if you're
squeamish, just
don't look.
Squeamish?
I'm not squeamish.
I just don't want you two
to end up like that dog
ended up. That's all.
Oh, you know,
Miss Fremont, he might
just have something there.
Just hold on.
Here, take this.
No sense taking any
chances in this thing.
Here, give me
the phone book.
What for?
Maybe I can get him
out of that apartment.
We only need
a few minutes.
I'll see if I can
get about 1 5 minutes.
How?
Thorwald.
Thorwald. . .
Thorwald. . .
Chelsea 27099.
27099.
We scared him once,
maybe we can
scare him again.
Well, I guess I'm
using that word
"we" a little freely.
I mean,
you're taking
all the chances.
LISA: Shall we vote
him in, Stella?
STELLA: Unanimously.
27099. Look out.
Chelsea.
Chelsea.
(PHONE RINGING)
Go on, pick it
up, Thorwald.
Go on,
you're curious.
You wonder if it's
your girlfriend calling,
the one you k*lled for.
Go on,
pick it up.
THORWALD: Hello?
Did you get my note?
Well, did you
get it, Thorwald?
Who are you?
I'll give you
a chance to
find out.
Meet me in the bar
at the Albert Hotel.
Do it right away.
Why should I?
A little business
meeting. . .
To settle the estate
of your late wife.
I don't know
what you mean.
Come on. Quit stalling,
Thorwald, or I'll hang
up and call the police.
I have only
$1 00 or so.
That's a start.
I'm at the Albert now.
I'll be looking for you.
Come on, Stella,
let's go.
One of you
keep an eye
on this window.
If I see him coming
back, I'll signal
with a flashbulb.
WOMAN: This is
the Doyle residence.
Hello, this is
L. B. Jefferies speaking.
I'm a friend of Mr. Doyle.
Who's this?
This is a
babysitter.
Oh. Uh. . .
When do you
expect them in?
Well, I'm hired till
1 :00. They went to dinner
and maybe a nightclub.
I see.
If he calls in, would you
have him get in touch with
L. B. Jefferies right away?
I might have quite
a surprise for him.
Well, do we have
your number,
Mr. Jefferies?
He has it.
Good night.
Good night.
JEFF: Stella was wrong
about Miss Lonelyheart.
(INAUDIBLE)
Lisa, what are you. . .
Don't do. . .
Lisa, what are you
doing? Don't go. . .
Come on, come on !
Get out of there!
She said ring Thorwald's
phone the second you
see him come back.
I'm gonna ring
it right now!
Oh, no. Give her
another minute.
MAN: All right, fellows,
let's try it once
from the beginning.
Miss Lonelyheart.
Oh, call the police!
WOMAN: Operator.
Get me the police,
sixth precinct.
Yes, sir.
STELLA: Mr. Jefferies,
the music stopped her.
What. . . Lisa!
Lisa!
Precinct 6,
Sergeant Allgood.
Hello. Hello. Look, a man
is assaulting a woman at
1 25 West 9th Street.
Second floor,
at the rear.
Make it fast!
Your name?
L. B. Jefferies.
Phone number?
Chelsea 25598.
(INAUDIBLE)
The door was open.
(CHATTERING)
I told you. . .
Oh, no!
Let go of me! Jeff!
Oh, no!
LISA: Jeff! Jeff!
Jeff!
Lisa!
Stella, what
do we do?
Jeff!
Jeff!
STELLA: Well,
here they come.
(SIGHS)
(INAUDIBLE)
STELLA: What's she
trying to do? Why
doesn't she turn him in?
She's a smart girl.
"Smart girl"?
She'll get
herself arrested.
It'll get her out
of there, won't it?
Look, the
wedding ring !
Turn off the light!
He's seen us!
How long do
you think he'll
stay there?
Well, unless he's dumber than
I think he is, he won't
wait until his lease is up.
Get my billfold
out of the drawer
in the table there.
What do you
need money for?
I'm gonna bail
Lisa out of jail.
You know, you could
leave her there
till next Tuesday,
then you could sneak
safely away as planned.
Yeah, let's
see. $1 27.
How much do
you need?
Well, this is
first-offense burglary,
that's about $250.
Lisa's handbag.
Yeah.
How much
does she have?
Fifty cents.
Here, take this.
Look, I got $20 or so
in my purse.
What about the rest?
What about the rest?
When those cops see Lisa,
they'll even contribute.
Well, hurry up.
(PHONE RINGING)
Just a minute.
Hurry up!
Jefferies.
DOYLE: All right.
What is it now?
Doyle, I've got
something really
big for you.
Why did I have to
return your call?
Look, Jeff! Don't
louse up my night
with another mad k*ller...
Listen to me! Listen
to me! Lisa's in jail.
She got arrested.
Your Lisa?
My Lisa.
Boy, you should have
seen her. She got into
Thorwald's apartment.
But then he came back, and
the only way I could get her
out was to call the police.
I told you...
I know you told me!
She went in to get
evidence and she came
out with evidence.
Like what?
Like what?
Like Mrs. Thorwald's
wedding ring.
That's like what.
If that woman was alive,
she'd be wearing
that ring. Right?
A possibility.
A possibility.
It's a fact!
He k*lled a dog last night
because the dog was scratching
around in the garden.
You know why? Because he had
something buried in that
garden that the dog scented.
Like an old
ham bone?
Look, I don't know what
pet names Thorwald
had for his wife,
but I'll tell you this,
all those trips at night
with that metal suitcase,
he wasn't taking
out his possessions,
because his possessions
are still up in the apartment.
Perhaps it was
old "ham bone."
Yeah, in sections.
And I'll tell you
something else.
All the telephone calls
he made were long
distance, all right?
Now, if he called
his wife long distance
on the day she left,
after she arrived
in Merritsville,
why did she write a card to
him saying that she'd
arrived in Merritsville?
Why did she do that?
Where'd they
take Lisa?
Precinct 6.
I sent somebody over
with the bail money.
Maybe you
won't need it.
Welcome to our World! Where we serve you cookies to ensure you get the best viewing experience on our site.
Did you know that you can remove censorship board-wide, use our advanced search functions, be notified when new content is posted, join our memberships, set episodes to show in any order you want & more if you are logged into your account?
Register or sign in here: ucp.php?mode=register
Did you know that you can remove censorship board-wide, use our advanced search functions, be notified when new content is posted, join our memberships, set episodes to show in any order you want & more if you are logged into your account?
Register or sign in here: ucp.php?mode=register
Rear Window (1954)
Moderators: Maskath3, GabrielAlejo2341, sidolanters, Maskath3, GabrielAlejo2341, sidolanters