03x05 - Publish or Perish

Episode transcripts for the TV show "Columbo". Aired: February 20, 1968 – January 30, 2003.*
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Columbo is a homicide detective whose trademarks include his rumpled beige raincoat, unassuming demeanor, cigar, old Peugeot 403 car, and an unseen wife.
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03x05 - Publish or Perish

Post by bunniefuu »

I'll be the authority

behind every bombing
in the world.

Bombs away, Eddie Kane.

Find the evidence,
Lieutenant.

Quit jumping to conclusions and
quit trying to take the easy way.

Sex is our only mysticism
in this world today.

I think someone's tryin' to pin
this m*rder on Mr. Greenleaf.

Now, look, I've got people
coming over to my house tonight.

Just exactly
what is your problem?

This chili's good,
I'll tell you that.

Bravo, Eddie.
Very efficient.

And may I add that you are

truly a living tribute
to American ingenuity.

A bit depressing for the rats,

but what's one less rat
in the world, eh, Eddie?

Get on with it.

Yes, of course.

First of all,
let me impress upon you

that the timing is everything.
Everything.

.

What?

hours. Army time.

Makes it : at night
instead of in the morning.

Oh, yes, of course.
hours.

Wanna synchronize watches?

No, no,
that won't be necessary.

Everything all right with you,
Eddie?

Yeah.

I just wondered.
I thought perhaps

you might be
losing your nerve.

One guy?

I f ragged a couple of hundred
in Nam.

Eddie.

One sh*t in the heart.
No more.

Economy, huh?

Yes.

Here's the g*n.

Now, remember,

you have to sh**t it
without smudging the prints

on that handle.

And the key.

You've got
the rubber gloves?

Well, then.
Everything is all clear.

Yeah.

What about you
publishin' my book?

Yes, of course.
I was just coming to that.

Well, your first advance,
Eddie.

$ , .

We'll draw up
a formal contract

in a couple of days.

No kiddin'?

That's great.

You're smart, Mr. Greenleaf.

You're gonna make a fortune
out of my book.

Three years I've been
working on it.

Three years.

I've described every single
kind of expl*sive there is,

and how to make it.

Well, that's your genius,
Eddie.

Your sort of
do-it-yourself book

will undoubtedly
change the world.

Yes. Yes, that's right.

Those poor kids,
those amateurs,

plantin' bombs and
blowin' themselves up.

They're really going to learn
how to do it right from me.

Believe me, I know.

I'm sure you do.

You're doin' a great thing,
Mr. Greenleaf.

We both are, Eddie.

Remember,

you have to come through
for me tonight.

Oh, that. He's dead already.

Eileen.

Eileen, you look gorgeous.
Give me a kiss.

I take every opportunity,
you know.

Hellos and goodbyes
are the only kisses I get.

Well, have you met
all the great,

and near-great, and so on
and so on?

I sure have.

It's a fine bunch of people
you have here, too.

This party is
partly for you, you know.

To impress you enough
to come and join

the Neal Publishing house.

Mr. Neal, I don't need
impressing. I'm ready.

We told Riley Greenleaf
today.

Allen's contract is up
in three weeks,

and then we're free.

And I assume Riley
took it with good grace.

Oh, of course,
aside from apoplexy.

Would you want to lose the
author of five bestsellers?

Oh, hardly, hardly. Miss,
will you take this, please?

Listen, I hope you can join me for dinner tonight.
You and Eileen, both.

I'm sorry, I can't.

Perhaps just you?

Oh, thanks.

Uh-oh.
Has somebody arrived?

I invited Norman Mailer.

Yes, but did you
invite him?

Oh, there you are.

Don't move.

Not that I know of.

He looks a little
tanked up.

You better ignore him.

Ignore a tarantula?

You're lovely. Leave.

Well, there they are.
The Holy Trinity.

The only thing missing
is the golden glow.

Fortunately, my presence
shall make up for that.

Nice of you
to drop in, Riley.

My pleasure. My pleasure.

I was curious to see
what mysterious lures

the great Geoffrey Neal
was using to steal

my pocket-sized Hemingway.

Riley, please.

Oh, there she is,
the lovely handmaiden.

Literary agent and concubine,

ever present
at her master's side,

an inspiring muse
with real flesh.

All right, cut it out.
Don't you understand?

I don't want
a contract with you anymore.

After four years of grinding
out some of that garbage you...

Garbage? Oh, no, no, sir,
that was sex.

And sex is our only mysticism

in this world today of
the new illiterates...

Our old contract is up
in three weeks,

and that's it, Riley.

Your relationship
does seem terminal, Riley.

He was writing obituaries

for the Pasadena News
when I found him,

and I alone made
him into a bestseller.

And now he would like to
write better things...

and for Mr. Neal's company.

Oh, you're kidding.

My dear friend,
if you do, you will die.

I'm sorry Riley,
but I think it's best

if you keep
your next appointment.

His new book belongs to me,

and I've got him
under contract.

All right.
That'll be enough for now.

Well,
I'll tell you one thing.

He'll never write for you

or anyone else,
and I shall see to it.

Good night,
you charming people.

Hey.

Hey, bartender!

If you don't mind,
a little less conversation,

a little more service
at the end of this bar.

Thank you.

What did you
put in this glass?

That's a double Scotch
and soda, sir.

Just what you ordered.

What do you take me for,
some kind of a fool?

This tastes like bile.

Hey! Hey!

Come on. Let go of me.

I think you've had
enough for tonight, sir.

Oh, really?
I'll be the judge of that.

Let go of me.

Here.

Buy yourself a personality.

Let go.
Stop manhandling me.

Stinking joint!

You and this place
deserve to be in the Valley.

Good morning, Agnes.

Yesterday's pages
looked okay.

I found a few errors
you can fix up here.

Let's pick it up
from Page ,

and that should wrap it up
for the first draft.

Conrad held Li Chen
close against him

feeling her soft trembling
body yield to his embrace.

He knew that this
must be love.

If it wasn't,

it would have to do
until the w*r was over.

Conrad prowled the room

looking for the inside
of his personal tunnel.

There was no sleep
for him that night.

It was only miles
to Saigon, he thought.

But how far could he ever
put Saigon behind him?

But there was only one
real decision to be reached,

and it had been formed
a long time ago.

He knew which way
he would have to turn.

Out across the plains was
the monastery of St. Ignatius,

offering him hope
and a chance to wash away

the wounds of w*r
that had brutalized him.

He turned to
look at Li Chen

sleeping on
the straw mattress,

her tiny body
heaving fitfully.

He would not wake her.

It was better that
she find him gone.

Saigon and
the fighting was far away.

From the window...

What's the matter with you?
Hey, fool!

Look what you've
done to my car.

Oh, I'm so sorry.
I didn't see you.

What we've done
to your car?

Look what you've done
to our car. Tell him, Ralph.

Well, sir, you... you... you
did pull out without looking.

What?

That's ridiculous.
You, Ralphy, are a fool,

you're a liar,

and you're a menace
to your fellow man.

Don't take that
from him, Ralph.

And you, madam, shut up!

All right, here, Ralphy.

I suggest you
call that number

the first thing
in the morning.

That's my insurance agent.

He'll know how to
deal with you.

Sir, in your condition,
I should call the police.

Madam, in your condition,
I'd call a plastic surgeon.

Let's see,
it would have to be around...

I come to work at : ,

so that would have to
make it around midnight,

I guess. Yeah.

Excuse me, coming through.

Yeah.

Yeah. About... About
midnight. I... I... I was...

That's when I found him.

I was bringing him
his coffee.

Coffee?
Did you leave the building?

Oh, no, I keep it
down in the basement.

Hey,
did somebody mention coffee?

Yeah, I brought
Mr. Mallory's coffee.

I always brought him
his coffee, every night.

Yeah? You still got some?

Yeah, it's in the other room.
But it's probably cold by now.

That's all right.
I'd drink anything.

You know how much
sleep I've had

the last two nights?
Maybe five hours.

Last night it was
Bette Davis.

: in the morning,

my wife wants to
watch Bette Davis.

So we're
watching Bette Davis.

Did you find out about
that key yet, Lieutenant?

Oh, this is brutal.

Um, the key?

Yeah.

Oh, no, the super,
he comes in at :: .

All right.

But, you know,
she is a terrific actress,

this woman Bette Davis.
Forget about it.

Um, excuse me.

Uh, Kramer?

Watch it. Coming through.

You finished up over here?

Just about, Lieutenant.
Just about.

How did he get in?

Who?

The guard.

How'd you get in, sir?
With a pass key?

Yeah, yeah. I knocked,

but I couldn't hear
anybody workin', you see?

But I could see the light
shining through the door.

That's when I come in,
and I... and I found him.

Did you touch anything here?

You think I'm
some kind of a nut?

That's your job.
I've got problems of my own.

Lieutenant,
this gentleman said

he came here
to see Mr. Mallory.

What's going on in here?

Who are you, sir?

Norman Wolpert.
Lewis Manuscript Service.

I'm here to pick up
Mr. Mallory's tape

for transcription.

Messenger service?

Manuscript service.

What are you doing here
at this hour?

Why do you come so late?

It's the same time
I come every night.

Yeah... Yeah, that... that's right, Lieutenant.
I... I can vouch for that.

Is Mr. Mallory all right?

Well, I'm afraid
Mr. Mallory is dead.

What happened?

That's what we're
trying to find out.

Lou, you take this
young man's statement.

You talk to this gentleman,
and then you can go home.

It's all yours, Lieutenant.

Sweeney,
you getting anything here?

Not much. A lot of dust.

Leave this here.

Her tiny body
heaving fitfully.

He would not wake her.

It was better that
she find him gone.

You need
the security guard anymore?

What was that?

Is it okay if I let him
go back to the lobby?

Yeah, let him go.

From the window.

Lieutenant?

Shh.

Did you hear that?

They paid that guy a lot of
money for writing that tripe.

Wait a minute.

Uh, Lieutenant.

Wait a minute.

From the window.

We found this
in the basement corridor.

It's been fired.

Hmm.

Where did you say you found it?
In the corridor?

You mean, it was just laying
there, right out in the open?

That's right.

We also found
some jimmy marks

on the outside basement door.

That's how the guy
got in the building.

Thank you very much.

Uh, Sweeney,
prints, Ballistics, please.

Sure, Lieutenant.

I'm all through here, anyway.

Sweeney?

What, Lieutenant?

Nothin'.

Sir?

Sir?

What? What?

What?
What... What... What is it? What?

What're you doin' here
parked in the park?

'C-'Cause there's a sign
out there that said,

"No parking in the street."

Step out of your car,
please, sir.

Certainly... Certainly not.

I am on my way home,
Officer.

So would you kindly
shut that door, please?

Please, uh, step out
of the car, sir.

If you want me to
get out of this car,

Officer, or Sergeant,

you're gonna have to
drag me out.

Uh, Fred?

Need help, huh?

Lt. Columbo?

How're you doing?

Lieutenant, I would like
my client released.

He's being treated
like a common criminal,

and I want to know why.

Well, there has been
a crime.

Mr. Chase, is it?

David Chase.

Mr. Greenleaf?

Yes, that's right.

My name is Lt. Columbo.

Anybody want coffee?

No, I want to go home.

Why don't you just tell me
what the bail is,

and I'll take
Mr. Greenleaf home.

I wouldn't know, sir.

I'm not connected
with the Traffic Division.

I'm attached to Homicide.

Homicide?

Yeah.

What is all this about?

I just wanna ask
Mr. Greenleaf

if he can
identify a voice for me.

Now, just a minute.

Won't take long.

Offering him hope
and a chance to wash away

the wounds of w*r
that had brutalized him.

He turned to
look at Li Chen

sleeping on
the straw mattress...

It's Allen's voice.

Her tiny body
heaving fitfully.

He would not wake her.

It was better that
she find him gone.

Yes, it's Allen Mallory.

Slowly, he turned away...

All right,
I've identified the voice.

Can I leave now?

That's right, sir.
I'm afraid this man is dead.

Oh, God, no.

But who? Why?

That's what I wanted
to ask you, Mr. Mr. Greenleaf.

The medical examiner sets the
time of death around : .

Would you mind telling me
where you were at that time?

Riley, you don't have to
answer that question.

David, I don't mind
answering the question.

The fact is, Lieutenant,

I don't... I don't know
where I was.

Yes, it's true.
I saw Allen last night,

briefly, at a press party.

We had some words,
not important,

but I was very upset by it.

I drove around.
I'd been drinking quite a bit.

I don't remember
anything about last night.

Poor Allen.

I wonder if you can
identify this key.

No.

Would you mind
taking a closer look at it?

All keys look alike to me.

Yes, sir. But I believe
this is your key.

The building superintendent
told me

that Mr. Mallory's office

was leased
months ago by you.

This is one of the two keys
that he gave you.

If you say so.

Get to the point, Lieutenant.

We found this key
on the office floor,

a few feet from
Mr. Mallory's body.

Evidently, it belongs to him.

No, sir. We checked
the victim's key ring,

and the one that fit
the outer door

was on his person.

This key, your key,

this is the fellow
that bothers me.

I've already told you,

I don't know
anything about it.

What bothers you
about it, Lieutenant?

How it got there?

Could have been
dropped days before.

Do you own a.
Smith & Wesson revolver?

Now, just a minute.

David,
I have nothing to hide.

Yes, I do own a p*stol,

but I don't know
what make it is.

Lieutenant,
why are you asking me

all these questions?

Oh, surely you don't believe
I had anything to do

with Allen's death?

Well, obviously, some thief
broke into the office

when Allen was working.

There was nothing to steal.

Mr. Mallory's wallet
wasn't disturbed.

And you just said that
you were drinking last night.

You can't explain
your whereabouts

at the time of the death.

Riley, I'm sorry.
I must insist you answer no more questions,

at least until we've
had a chance to confer.

Officer.

That is, unless Lt. Columbo
is placing you under arrest.

Arrest? No. No, no.

Mr. Greenleaf,
you're free to go.

I thought he might be.

But I may be asking
some questions later on.

Of course.
I'll be at home all day.

Dear God. Poor Allen.

David,
I just can't believe it.

I just can't believe it.

I'm gonna be very honest
with you, Miss McRae.

Actually, I'm interested
in the activities of

one particular person,
a Mr. Riley Greenleaf.

Well, you picked a beauty,
Lieutenant.

If anybody had it
in for Allen,

it was Riley Greenleaf.

Really? That seems strange.

You know, I spoke to Mr.
Greenleaf earlier this morning.

He seemed to me
like he was genuinely upset,

acted like he'd lost
a close friend.

That's beautiful. Allen was
about to walk out on him,

taking a best-selling book
with him.

That must have been
the book

that Mr. Mallory
was dictating.

I see.

Gonna walk out
and take the book...

Well, wait a minute now.

I'm confused a little bit.

Wouldn't these two men
have a contract?

Yeah,
but it was about to expire.

In three weeks.

But still the book
would still belong

to Mr. Greenleaf,
wouldn't it?

You've got a lot to learn

about the publishing business,
Lieutenant.

Riley Greenleaf
didn't know about that book.

Allen never
talked to him about it,

and never would,

until he was free
of that contract.

I see. You mind if I smoke?

No.

I understand that
Mr. Greenleaf

has made threats
against Mr. Mallory.

You know anything about that?

Last night,
he said some ugly things.

He said if Allen
didn't write for him,

he wouldn't write for anybody.

He said that?

Yeah.

But... But don't take
my word for it,

there were a lot of
witnesses there.

No kidding.

Hmm.

The fact they questioned you
in a state of fatigue

opens the doors to
a serious consideration

of involuntary
self-incrimination.

On that basis alone,
I'm sure we could...

David,
would you please shut up?

You don't seem to realize
that Allen is dead,

and I may be
the one who k*lled him.

I'd keep that opinion to
myself if I were you, Riley.

A Lt. Columbo to see you, sir.

Yes, ask him to come in.
Thank you, Edwards.

Yes, sir.

Riley, you don't understand.

I'm as upset as you are
about Allen's death.

But you must not say
anything that could be

construed as
an admission of guilt.

Oh, Lieutenant,

I'd like to apologize
for this morning, but I...

I must tell you honestly,

I don't remember
a thing about last night.

I understand, sir.

Forgive the condition
of the room,

but I'm redecorating.

More questions, Lieutenant?

Or are you here to press
some kind of charges?

Well, sir, you see,
we traced the g*n.

My g*n.
It was my g*n, wasn't it?

Yes, sir, we were able
to trace it to you.

Yeah, I knew that.

When I looked in the car,
in the glove compartment,

I saw that my g*n was missing.

Well,
obviously someone stole it.

It doesn't look
that way, sir.

The only fingerprints
we were able to find

on the handle of that g*n
were Mr. Greenleaf's.

There were no other
prints on the g*n.

Well, that's it, isn't it?

Allen walked out on me,

took his latest book
to another publisher,

and I suppose

in anger, I k*lled him.

Oh, that new book, I suppose that's a
pretty valuable piece of property.

Anything that he wrote
was valuable, Lieutenant.

If anybody was around to write

the first genuine
bestseller about Vietnam,

it certainly was
Allen Mallory.

Is that a fact, really?

I was always under
the impression

that w*r stories,
they all went over big.

Only our popular wars.

years ago,
World w*r ll was a goldmine.

But Vietnam that's a plague.

Hold it. Wait a minute.

I'm confused.
Either I'm confused,

or somebody's not
telling the truth.

I was told, Mr. Greenleaf,

that you knew nothing
about the contents

of Mr. Mallory's new book.

Actually, I don't.
It's just that this morning,

listening to
Allen's voice on the tape,

didn't he mention something
about Saigon and a w*r?

I... I just assumed that...

You're absolutely right.
I'm sorry, forgive me.

Well, this is a puzzler.

I... I don't know
quite what to say.

Do you remember taking
the g*n out of your car?

No, but...

Riley, I warned you
not to say anything.

Will you please
stay out of this?

I can't watch you talk
yourself into a m*rder charge.

You'll do exactly
as I ask you to do,

and I pay you handsomely just for that privilege.
So, please, stay out of it.

You say you've always
kept your g*n in the car?

Yes.

Is that the car?

It is.

May I take a look?

Of course, if you'd like.

How long has this
lock been broken?

Well,
I don't know that it is.

It's been jimmied, sir,
and the scratch mark is fresh.

May I?

I think you're
absolutely right, Lieutenant.

I see what you're driving at.

You mean that... that someone
could have broken into the car,

and that's how
the g*n was stolen.

It's possible, sir.

And the key.

Sir?

The key to Allen's office,
I kept an extra one here

in the glove compartment,
along with the g*n.

No, it's gone, too.

Mr. Greenleaf?

Yes.

Telephone, sir.
It's Mr. Trumble.

He says it's quite important.

David,
would you take the call?

I'm in no mood to discuss
insurance, please.

I'll have him
call back later.

Oh, no, wait.

You'd better find out
what he wants.

Yeah, I guess somebody gave you
a pretty good rap back here.

Oh, yeah.
That's a beauty, isn't it?

That's the first time
I noticed that.

No kiddin'.

I'll tell you,
bodywork like that,

gotta run you $ -$ .

Lieutenant,
when you own a car like this,

it costs that much
merely to raise the hood.

No kiddin'.

Sure.

Listen, my wife's got a cousin in
the Valley, who owns a body shop,

I mean, if you want me
to talk to him...

That's very decent of you.

You see, I have
a cousin in Beverly Hills.

He does all my work for me.

Lieutenant, I have some
disappointing news for you.

You'll have to stick this
m*rder on somebody else.

Riley's got an alibi that
even he doesn't know about

and it's iron-clad.

Well, what is it?

I mean,
I'm very glad to hear that.

At : last evening,
Riley Greenleaf

was involved in
an auto accident

in the parking lot
of the Moore Park lnn.

That's in Encino.

Encino? What the devil
was I doing there?

You were drinking at the bar,
I'm pleased to inform you.

Then he was taken to jail,
where he spent

most of the evening
in the drunk t*nk

till I got him out.

An experience I don't wish
to relive, thank you.

Yeah... Yeah, son of a g*n.

Well, I guess that
just about does it.

You may say that again.

All I can say is,
thank God.

A blackout is
a frightening thing.

I must be grateful
to those people

for having the good sense

to call my
insurance company to report...

David, do you realize
that if those people

had not contacted
Mark Trumble...

What... what would have...

I don't even want
to think about that.

That accident there,
that must have been

where you damaged
the rear end of your car.

Yes, I suppose so.

Well, listen, I'd better go
check this thing out.

Still, it's funny.

What's that, Lieutenant?

Fingerprints.

The fact that

only your fingerprints
were on the g*n.

Well, listen, I don't
want to impose on you.

Thank you very much
for the cooperation.

Oh, you're more than welcome.

Please don't hesitate to call

if... if there's
anything I can do.

Oh, yes, sir.

Lt. Columbo.

Sir?

I suppose you realize
what you almost did?

Sir?

You were going to arrest him,
weren't you?

Well, it did seem to me

that... that he was
somehow involved.

Seemed.

When are you
police going to realize

that it takes more than
circumstantial evidence

to convict a man of a crime?

David.

Evidence.

Find the evidence,
Lieutenant.

Quit jumping to conclusions

and quit trying to
take the easy way.

Oh, Mr. Chase, uh, one thing.

About that accident,

do you happen to know
who else was involved?

It's a couple from El Monte.

Mr. and Mrs. Morgan. Why?

Well, you see,
I didn't know, uh...

I just wasn't sure

whether it was just
one person in the other car,

or whether there was
more than one.

And, uh, when...

No, I was just telling your
attorney that I wasn't sure

whether there was just
one person in the other car

or whether there
was more than one.

And when you said
that you were relieved

that those people,
more than one,

when you were relieved
that those people

called your insurance man,

I thought maybe the blackout
was starting to clear up,

and you were beginning
to remember what happened.

Perhaps he is,
subconsciously.

That's probably it.
His subconscious.

I don't care what he says,
David.

He's a -bit writer.

You tell him to sign
the writer on that contract,

or he's out.

Oh, he'll sign it.
He's hungry. Thanks, David.

Yes, Betsy?

Mr. Greenleaf,
there's a strange man

wandering around
the editorial section.

I thought you should know.

What do you want me to do?

You want to get rid of him,
call the police.

That's just it.
He says he is the police.

Look, you're not supposed to
wrestle her to the deck.

You're supposed to make her
swoon with passion.

Now give it to me.
Give it to me.

His T-shirt smells.

His T-shirt smells?
Your T-shirt smells?

Columbo,

would you please tell me
what you're doing here?

Oh, I see you're free, sir.

The receptionist told me
you were tied up,

so I decided
to wander around.

I hope you don't mind.

Yes, I'm afraid I do mind.

My people happen
to be very busy.

Yes, sir. I can see that.
I'm very sorry.

What are they doing in there?

Oh, we're sh**ting a cover
for a new paperback.

It's on anthropology.

Uh, Mr. Greenleaf,
I came by to tell you that

I've checked out
that accident,

and there's no
question about it.

You were there.

Oh, I can't tell you how
relieved I am to hear that.

I'm... I'm sorry I yelled.

The only thing
I have to do now, sir,

is try and find
the person who framed you.

Frame me?

Yes, sir. It was a frame.

No question about it.

The fingerprints on the g*n,

too perfect,
not smudged at all.

Now since we know that
you didn't sh**t Mr. Mallory

that means that
whoever fired that p*stol

was very careful not to
disturb your fingerprints.

I just can't believe that.

Oh, it's a frightening
thought, all right.

But you know,
you were very lucky,

I mean with that accident.

I mean, the time it happened
and the witnesses.

Count your blessings, sir.

You know, if it hadn't been
for that accident,

things would've looked
very bad for you now.

You know, uh, lookin' at
some of these posters

got me thinkin'.

They got a guy
down at the department

who wrote a couple of books.

Maybe you've heard of him.

What's his name?

Yes, I know who you mean,
Lieutenant.

You know,
he's only a sergeant

and I've handled
a lot more cases than he has.

I was thinkin'...

That maybe you might
write a book?

Oh, I'm not talkin'
about a big book.

You know, I mean,
maybe a short book,

just to get the hang of it.
Some of my cases.

Sure, why not?

Except that if you're gonna
write a book,

it takes
a certain amount of skill.

Oh, I don't expect to be
a great writer

like Mr. Mallory
or anything like that. No.

Uh, jeez, you know,
that reminds me.

He must've been
very valuable to you, sir.

The insurance guy told me

that you took out
a... a life-insurance policy

on his life. $ million?

Oh, that's a usual practice
in this business, Lieutenant.

But, as you say,
valuable property.

That's right. I forgot
all about the policy.

No kidding.

That's funny.
According to my notes,

the company sent you
a renewal slip last week.

I wouldn't know
anything about that.

We have an accountant
that handles all that stuff.

Listen, I certainly hope

you get the men
that you're after.

If anybody can do it,
you're the man.

Oh, thank you, sir.

Good luck with that writing,
keep that up. That's good.

Oh, I intend to.

You know, it's hard
at home with the family.

Mmm-hmm. Sure.

Oh, listen.
Uh, gee, I almost forgot.

There's one thing
about the Mallory case

that bothers me.
Maybe you can help me.

Um, I cannot figure out
how the m*rder*r

got into Mallory's office

since the lock wasn't broken,

and there's no sign
of forced entry.

With the key.

The one that you
found on the floor.

The one that was stolen
from my glove compartment.

You mean... You mean this key?

There it is.

No.

No, I guess this was
part of the frame-up.

This key
doesn't fit the lock.

I found out that
Mallory changed the lock

about three weeks ago.

He did?

Yeah.

I guess he didn't want
anybody goin' in there

and lookin' at
what he was writing.

Yes, but...

This key was left there
to incriminate you.

No doubt about it.

But that still
doesn't tell us how

the m*rder*r got
into the office that night.

Well, evidently,
Allen must have let him in,

opened the door not knowing...

No, sir.

No, that would've been
on the tape-recording.

Mr. Mallory's voice
was never interrupted.

No. Whoever k*lled him

got in without
Mallory's knowledge,

sneaked up on him
when he was dictating.

It's puzzling, isn't it?

Baffling.

Yeah.

There has to be another key
to the new lock.

I'll tell you,

if I could find the person
with that new key,

I'd find the person
that k*lled Mr. Mallory.

I don't envy you.

That is not
an easy assignment.

Oh, listen,
you don't have to tell me.

Okay.

Thank you very much.

All the luck.

Thanks.

Yeah?

Hello, Eddie. This is
your publisher calling.

It's been three days, skipper.

What do you say
we get together?

Yes, I know Eddie.

Uh, would tonight
be convenient?

Your place?
Better tell me where it is.

Yeah,
Howard, over the garage.

What time?

Oh, shall we say hours?

You're learnin', skip. Out.

Yes, Eddie, out.

Hello, Moishe?
It's Riley Greenleaf, here.

I'll tell you what,
I need a favor.

I need to have
a key made for a door

to a certain office building.

Problem is,
I need it this afternoon.

You think you can swing that?

Oh, fine.

Tell him I'll make it
worth his while.

Yo, it's open.

Hey.
Hi.

I've been meaning to ask you,

all this stuff that you
keep here in your... your home,

is it legal?

It's all made in the U.S.
Of A. Pull up a sofa.

Oh, hey!

I made some drawings today

for my chapter on
Bouncin' Betties.

You did? Fine.

What's a Bouncing Betty?

Anti-personnel mine.

You got to really plant
these things just right.


Now you see, you lay it
down six inches. No more.

You leave the pressure plate

with just about a half inch
of dirt and leaves.

The guy steps on it. Whammo!

You get the legs.
It's beautiful.

Oh, yeah. That's beautiful.

Well,
it calls for a celebration.

A little... little drinking?

Hey, that's nice.
Real champagne?

Absolutely.

Nothing but
the best for Eddie Kane, huh?

I'll have to
get used to that idea.

You should, Eddie.

After all, you deserve it.

Perfect.

A toast, Eddie.
Shall we say, uh,

bombs away?

Bombs away? I like it.
I like it. Right on.

Mmm.

Yeah, there we are.

I've been meaning to ask you,

did you run into any problems
the other night?

No.

No trouble getting into
Mallory's office?

The door was open,
but I left the key

on the floor anyway,
like you told me.

Splendid,
now about the book.

Yeah.

Is there any information
contained in the book,

that could be
in violation of

m*llitary requirements
or... or defense secrets?

Are you kidding me?

All the specifications

are in
the manufacturer's brochure.

All I'm doin' with my book

is to say
how to use them right.

I've got ideas for bombs

those guys never even
thought of.

Here.

Never even thought of.

I got... got this funny...

Something the matter, Eddie?

I... I don't know, I...

Dear Mr. Greenleaf.

Is this the right place?

For what?

To park the car.

Permanently?

No, I'm going in to lunch.

Hi, Sharon.

Hi. How are you?

Good to see you.

Oh, thank you.

Thanks a lot, Rocco.

You're welcome.

Excuse me,
don't I need a parking check?

Listen, mister,
I'll remember your car.

May I help you?

Uh, thank you very much.

Excuse me, Mr. Neal?

Yes?

I'm...

Geoffrey,
this is Lt. Columbo.

Oh, yes,
would you like to sit down?

Thank you very much.

I don't want to bother you.

I called your office and they
told me you were over here.

I... I hope you don't mind.

Oh, no. No, not at all.

Will you have
something to eat?

Oh, no.

Please... Please join us.

Well, listen,
now that you mentioned it,

I could use somethin', so...

Charles, see what
the Lieutenant will have.

Big menu.

Uh, Sweetbreads Financier...

Can't pronounce that.

The Trout Amandine
is very good.

Amandine. What is that with?
That's with...

Almonds.

With almonds. Fish.

Well,
I was thinkin' of somethin'

a little bit more, with body.

I'll tell you what,

if you don't mind,
do you have any chili?

Chili?

Yeah,
with beans or without beans,

either way, it doesn't
make any difference.

Chili.

Ask Henri to see what he can
do for our friend here.

Yes, sir.

Thank you very much.

I'll have a little
iced tea with that.

Mr. Neal, uh, what I wanted
to ask you was...

How are you doin'?

Fine, sir.

This is what I wanted
to ask you, Mr. Neal.

I understand that your
attorneys are tryin' to get

a release of
Mr. Mallory's manuscript.

Yes, MILES TO SAIGON.

I agreed to publish it

after Mallory's contract
expired with Greenleaf.

And I want to get hold of it
before he can,

because, well, I'm afraid
he's going to make trouble.

It's a very valuable book?

We think so. After all,
the man has written

nothing but bestsellers.

Uh, have you read it?

Oh, no, nobody's read it.

Nobody?

Nobody. Of course, Eileen
discussed the end with him.

As a matter of fact, I believe she
even made a contribution to it.

Well,
it was just a little one,

believe me, Lieutenant.

Pardon me.

I'll have a little ketchup.

Ketchup?

Ketchup.

All right, sir.

And some crackers.

Don't wait for us,
Lieutenant.

Right.

Please eat.

I wanted to get those
saltines if he had any.

Well...

Mr. Neal discussed the book
with Universal Studios.

They wanted
a picture for Rock Hudson.

The only trouble
with that was that

Allen was planning
to k*ll the hero off

in the final pages.

Universal said, for $ , ,

you don't k*ll off
Rock Hudson.

As I understood it,
Allen's hero was a P.O.W.

Who betrayed his own men,

but then found his courage,
came back,

and helped them escape
from the prison camp.

You see, Allen insisted that
his hero had a tragic flaw

which classically
ends in death.

That's where
Eileen was so helpful.

After the escape,
after they get back to Saigon,

Rock Hudson says
goodbye to the girl

who helped him
regain his courage,

says goodbye to
the material world,

and goes off to a monastery.

Is that good?

If it sells, it is.

This chili's good,
I'll tell you that.

Uh, the question that
comes to mind now is

can either one of you two
people think of someone

who might want to
frame Mr. Greenleaf?

Frame... Frame Riley?

That's right, ma'am.

That's what I think happened.

I think someone's
tryin' to pin

this m*rder on Mr. Greenleaf.

But, surely, you don't think

that either one of us
had anything...

I'm just asking the question,
ma'am.

Well,

I suppose I
might have a motive,

being his competitor.

But I'm sorry, Lieutenant.
That's not my style.

Anyway, if I wanted
to frame Riley,

it certainly wouldn't be for
the death of Allen Mallory,

who I very much
wanted to write for us.

Oh, that's all right,
I'm practically finished.

I'll have a check.

Oh, no, Lieutenant,
please, please, be my guest.

No, no, uh,
this is department business

and when it's
department business,

the department pays for it.

All right, if you insist.

Excuse me, sir.
Are you Lt. Columbo?

Yeah.

There's a telephone call
for you, sir.

Well, look, uh,
I'll run along.

I want to
thank you very much.

You've been very hospitable.

Good day, sir.

Pleasure.

Ma'am.

Having a hard time
getting up.

Columbo. Yeah.

Where?

Your check, Lieutenant.

Can I borrow a pencil?

Got it. Thank you.

Thank you.

$ . Excuse me.

No, I think
there's a mistake.

I had the chili
and the iced tea.

Oh.

$ . ?

I forgot to add the iced tea.

Name of Eddie Kane.

Blew himself up last night
with a hand grenade.

Real weirdo.

Must've been rigging a b*mb.

A b*mb? What for?

Don't ask me.

Looks like
he's writing a book.

"How to Blow Up Anything
in Ten Easy Lessons."

The reason I had
Central contact you,

you know that
m*rder downtown?

That writer, Mallory?

Yeah?

We thought we had a case against
the publisher, Greenleaf?

Right.

Well,
it may not mean anything,

but I found
Kane's address book,

and Greenleaf is in it.

Riley Greenleaf.

Thought it might
be something.

You son of a g*n.

Hmm.

You mind if I look around?

Go right ahead.
My boys are all through.

You want a cup of coffee
or somethin'?

No, no, thanks.
I just ate.

You want some advice?

Be careful
where you eat chili.

Why? Too hot?

Too high.

Wait a minute.

What?

I'll be a son of a g*n.

I can't believe it.

" MILES TO SAIGON."

Outline for a novel.

You think that
ties Eddie Kane

with the Mallory m*rder?

Yeah.

Could be.

Lieutenant,
you sure are lucky sometimes.

That's me. I'm lucky.

You didn't happen
to find a key chain

on this fellow, did you?

As a matter of fact, we did.

You didn't happen
to find a key

that doesn't fit
anything in this place?

Well,
there's one for the door,

one for his car,
and this one.

Who knows?

Oh, yeah.

Excuse me, Mr. Greenleaf?

Shh!

Excuse me.

I'm sorry to disturb
your movie, Mr. Greenleaf,

but this is very important.

We found the man
that k*lled Mr. Mallory.

Want to save it, Andy?

Unfortunately, uh,
he was k*lled last night.

His name was Eddie Kane.

He was k*lled?

Yes, there was
some kind of an accident.

He seemed to be
fooling around

with a homemade b*mb.

Hmm. Sounds gruesome.

It was.

Uh, for the purposes of
my report,

I wonder if you could tell me
a little bit more about him.

Me? I never heard of the man.

Well, now,
that's strange, sir,

because your telephone
number and your name

we found in his
address book.

That's bizarre.

I don't know
how he obtained it.

I've never heard
of any Eddie Kane.

Now,
that's just not true, sir.

I, myself, went through
his file drawer

and I found a duplicate
of a letter from Kane

addressed to you,
written nine months ago.

Had to do with a novel
called MILES TO SAIGON.

He was offering to write it.

He also enclosed an outline.

Now, that was the name of Mr.
Mallory's new book, wasn't it?

I wouldn't know, Lieutenant.

He never discussed
the book with me.

Mr. Greenleaf, the point is,

have you heard of
Mr. Kane, or haven't you?

And I think you have.

And I think you ought to
tell me about it.

You could do it here,

or you can do it
at headquarters.

All right, Lieutenant.

I never was
a very good liar.

You might just want
to know the truth.

Eddie Kane mailed me
this outline last year.

And the moment I read it,
I realized it had

the makings of
a very commercial book.

But I also realized
that Eddie Kane

was not the guy
to write it.

I mean,
he simply wasn't a writer.

Fortunately, Allen was
looking around for a new idea.

When I showed him this,
he jumped at it.

Lieutenant,
I was not trying to steal it.

Quite the contrary.
I offered Eddie Kane $ , for it.

He refused.
He was like a wild man.

He was insulting, abusive...

But you didn't
return the outline?

It was too late then.

Allen was already
at work on the book.

So what did Mr. Kane do?

He threatened me,
threatened Allen, too.

I tried to reason with him.

I even offered him
part of my profits,

but he was adamant.

I never thought
he'd be crazy enough to...

I guess he k*lled Allen
and he tried to frame me.

You know, in many ways,
I'm really to blame.

Well, I can understand
how you feel, sir.

I mean, that wasn't
exactly an ethical thing

that you did, was it?

No, no, it wasn't.

All right, Mr. Greenleaf,
I'll be running along then.

Oh, you don't mind if I
take this outline with me?

I just wanna
take it to the lab

and have them
check the typing

against Eddie Kane's
typewriter.

No, of course.
You understand?

Oh, sure.

Good day, sir.

Good day, Lieutenant.

Feel better.

Thanks very much.

Oh, I don't have to
read anymore, Lieutenant.

This is the outline
for Allen's book.

I can't believe it.

He wouldn't plagiarize this,
he wouldn't have to.

Well, I'm sure
you're right, ma'am,

but I double-checked
with the lab.

That synopsis was
definitely typed

on Eddie Kane's typewriter.

Well, I... I wish I could
help you, Lieutenant.

I... I guess I can't.

All right,
thank you very much.

I appreciate your time.

Sorry.

Oh, Lieutenant.

Yes?

Your evidence.

Oh.

I get preoccupied,
I forget my head.

You know, that synopsis,

it's as though
Allen dictated it himself.

Wait a minute. Maybe he did.

May I use your telephone?

Sure.

Could you do one more thing?

Could you finish
reading that?

I don't understand.

Please, ma'am.
Would you just read it?

You did find the key?

On Eddie Kane's key ring, huh?

Well, you should be
very happy, Lieutenant.

When? Now?

Tonight?

May I ask, why there?

Yes, of course.
I'll come right away.

Good evening,
Mr. Greenleaf.

You writing the great
American novel, Lieutenant,

or just boning up
on the touch system?

I want to tell you something,

this writing is not
as easy as it looks.

You know, uh,
I was on a case once.

A candidate for
the United States Senate.

He had a lot of
security men around him

'cause there'd been threats
against his life.

Now, in order to shake
the security men,

he changes clothes
with his campaign manager.

Then he sh**t
the campaign manager

and he makes it look like
an attempt on his life.

Now,
that's a heck of a story.

There's only one problem,
I was telling my wife.

I got it all up here,
I can't put it down here.

Lieutenant, very frankly,

I don't give a damn about
your senator or your story.

Now, look, I've got people
coming over to my house tonight.

Just exactly
what is your problem?

Oh, forgive me, sir.

I didn't know you were
expecting guests.

Did I tell you

that the key
that was on the floor

next to the body
didn't fit the lock?

Yes, you mentioned it
the other day.

You said that there
had to be another key

to fit the new lock,
and when you had that key,

then you'd have the person
who m*rder*d Allen Mallory.

Right. Right. I knew I
only told one person,

I wasn't sure who.

But it was you?

Yes, it was me.

And now you just
tell me on the telephone,

you found that key,
it was on Eddie Kane.

Right, we found it.
Here it is.

But there's a problem.

Well, what's the problem?
Doesn't the key fit the lock?

No, it fits, the key fits,

fits like a glove.

All right,
there's your answer.

Then obviously,
that's the key

that Eddie Kane used
the night he came in here.

No, that would be impossible.

Why?

Officer,
would you bring in Mr. Black?

Just wouldn't be possible.

Look, forgive me for... for
seeming dumb about this thing,

but I just don't understand.

You've just shown me a key
that fits that lock.

Right. Right, sir.
It does fit.

Good evening, Mr. Black.

But, uh...

that lock wasn't
on the door that night.

Oh, Mr. Black, Mr. Greenleaf.

Yeah. How do you do?

How do you do?

Mr. Black is a locksmith.

Right.

Mr. Black,

would you tell Mr. Greenleaf

when you put this lock
on this door?

Oh, that... that was Thursday.

That was the day
after that writer,

Mr. Mallory, was sh*t.

The day after?

I don't understand that.

Who ordered you
to change the lock?

He did.

Yes, sir. I did.

Which raises
a very troublesome question.

That will be all, Mr. Black.

For the life of me,
I cannot figure out

how Eddie Kane would
have a key to a lock

that was put on the door
on my instructions

the day after
he sh*t Mallory.

Does that make
any sense to you?

No, not at all.

Why would Kane
even come back here?

Sure is a puzzle, all right.

You don't have any answers?

No, not a one.

Beats me.

Well, thank goodness
I got the answer

to the other thing
that was bothering me.

What other thing?

Well, sir, I know
you're expecting guests,

so I don't want to
hold you up anymore.

It's true, I do have to leave,
and I haven't got much time.

But I am curious. Now, what?

As long as
you're curious, sir.

I figured out how Eddie Kane
got in here that night.

Uh, he didn't use the key
that was removed

from your car.

Mallory had changed that lock,

and, obviously,
he didn't use this key.

The fact is,
he didn't use any key.

Well,
how did he get in here then?

He walked, the door was open.

Oh, the door was open?

Yes, sir.

You see, the air conditioner
had broken down.

That's why
that window was open.

You can actually hear
the street noises on the tape.

But, you know, an open window
on a muggy night's

not much help.

So I think Mr. Mallory
must've opened that door.

That created a nice
cross breeze here.

Now, when Mr. Kane arrived,

well, the door was open,
he just walked in.

Mr. Mallory must've
turned around

and he sh*t him.

All right. If that is true,

and it sounds
conceivable enough to me,

but I don't see
how that changes anything.

About what, sir?

About what happened.

Now, look, Columbo,
I've had you up to here.

And frankly, I'm not
interested in locks and keys

and open doors

and air conditioners,
and how he got in here.

What the hell difference does
it make how he got in here?

The fact is that some crackpot
w*r veteran came in here,

sh*t and k*lled Allen Mallory,

and then frames me
out of some insane belief

that Allen and I
stole his lousy little story.

Now, that's all I know.

And that's all
I'm interested in.

Mr. Wolpert.

I thought that name
might mean something.

Let's see
if we're talking about

the same Mr. Wolpert.

We know you two fellows
know one another,

so don't bother to hide it.

No, you're wrong,
we don't know each other.

This young man may have
seen me going...

That's a lie.

I resent that.

Mr. Greenleaf,

you told me that
you knew nothing

about the contents of
Mr. Mallory's new novel.

That's right, I don't.

That's another lie.

Thank you, Officer.

Good evening, Norman.

Good evening.

I met this young man
the night of the m*rder.

Works for
a manuscript service.

Picks up
Mr. Mallory's tapes,

takes them to his
company's office,

the next day the typist
transcribes the tapes.

Then he returns the tapes
and the typed pages.

Except for the extra copy

which he passed to you.

Now, that's nothing but assumption,
it's pure speculation.

I've checked
your bank accounts,

you made five
monthly cash deposits

of $ , each.

Now,
a court might want to know

where you got that money
on your salary.

You look at me.

You don't have to
say anything.

I'm not talking
about losing your job.

I'm talking about m*rder.

Don't you say a word.
I'll call my lawyer.

He's involving you
in a m*rder.

Was that part of the deal?

Look, um,
I did get a set of the pages

to Mr. Greenleaf.

But I'm not
involved in any m*rder.

I don't know a thing about
a m*rder.

I believe you.

Go on home now,

we'll get your statement
later.

Thank you.
Go on.

All right, Columbo.

So he testifies that
he gave me those papers.

What's that mean?

It means you knew everything
that Mallory was writing.

Day by day,
including the ending.

Even if I knew the ending,

that still doesn't mean that I was
the one who m*rder*d the man.

For $ , ,

you don't k*ll off
Rock Hudson.

In this synopsis
that you gave me,

which you claim Eddie Kane
wrote nine months ago,

the hero saves his men,

and he goes off
to live in a monastery.

I hate to tell you this, sir,

but there is no way
that Eddie Kane

could've had that idea.

It wasn't even
Allen Mallory's.

It was given to him
by his agent, Miss McRae.

And for the life of me,

I cannot figure out
how Eddie Kane

could have written an ending
nine months ago

that was only invented
last week.

I guess you see my point.
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