07x05 - The Conspirators

[bunniefuu]

(SINGING) God save Ireland
, said the heroes

God save Ireland,
say us all

Whether on the
gallows high

Or the b*ttlefield we die

Oh, what matter when
for Erin dear we fall

High upon the gallows tree

Swung the noble
hearted three

By the vengeful tyrant
stricken in their bloom

But they met them
face to face

With the courage
of their race

And they went with souls
undaunted to their doom

God save Ireland,
said the heroes

God save Ireland,
say us all

Whether on
the gallows high

Or the b*ttlefield we die

Oh, what matter when
for Erin dear we fall

DEVLIN: Well, that's a very
interesting question, I suppose.

But as far as I'm concerned, if you'll
excuse me, it's a non-question.

You see, it never
really occurred to me.

You see,
at a very early age

I decided to be me own master
and the servant of no one.

And that left two promising possibilities.
Either be a king or a poet.

Now, as Ireland
had her fill of kings,

I clearly saw I had to educate
myself to the way of words.

So, I took to drink
immediately,

fell in love
at every opportunity,

and avoided the schoolroom
like the plague.

(CROWD LAUGHING) I advise
you to do the same.

You have eyes
like emeralds.

I'll gladly buy their splendid
memory with the story of my life.

(CROWD LAUGHING)

Will you do me the honor,
Mr. Devlin?

All included in the price, Mr...
The name is Pauley.

Vincent Pauley.

I understand
you're in the market.

Any special inscription?

Whatever is appropriate.

Perhaps we could have a drink sometime
and discuss each other's work.

I'd enjoy that.

Sometime soon?

DEVLIN: Oh, I see that
crafty look of disapproval.

You want to love me, Kerry, but
you think I drink too much.

Mr. Full's Irish Dew.

The label says, "Let each
man be paid in full."

What do I owe you, Kerry?

Thank you very much, sir.

Well now,
for all your righteousness,

when did you last write to your mother?
A week or two ago.

More like a month or two ago.

Why don't you write today?
Write her about life in America.

Write her about your job
with Mr. O'Connell.

Laying lines of red bricks
like a craftsman born.

Why don't you write her anything you
damn well please, only write her.

I'll write her
you drink too much.

(DOORBELL RINGING)

Mr. Devlin, please.
My name is Pauley.

Mr. Devlin.

I don't recall inviting you here, Mr.
Pauley.

I prefer neutral ground.

You're the one in a rush.

Can we be alone?

Run along, Kerry.

Excuse me.

You're satisfied
I come from your friends?

They're satisfied.

Care for a dram?

No, thank you.
Let's get this done with.

We're talking about a large
sum of money, Mr. Pauley.

I've never handed over a sum like that
to a man I've never had a drink with.

I'm not a convivial man,
Mr. Devlin.

Now, this is the item I think
we'll be talking about.

The M . Easy to fire.
Easy to conceal.

Rate of fire,
per minute.

Effective range, yards.

And this is
the companion piece, the M .

Uses a more
powerful charge.

Greater range,
more expensive.

My recommendation
is still the M .

As I understand it, the need is
for hit and run, close quarters.

Why spend the extra money?

My handguns are superb.

But they will not give
the rate of fire.

A poet's choice.

We'll stay with the M .
weapons.

$ a unit, as stipulated.

$ , for the order.

That's agreeable, then.

You may keep that,
if you like.

Beautiful craftsmanship.

Has a built-in sil*ncer.

The full order of M 's

to be delivered aboard your
ship or wherever preferred

on the th of the month.

When?
The th.

Guaranteed.

I told you the th.

My supplier advises me
the th is not possible.

The ship sails at : p.m.
on the th.

After that,
your g*ns are useless.

I understand the urgency

of the weapons arriving in
Belfast by a certain day,

but my supplier can't supply
what he doesn't have.

At least, not at these prices.

You're suggesting something
extra might touch his heart?

Or yours, Mr. Pauley.

I am suggesting

his priorities
might be adjusted,

possibly,
for an additional $ ,

in all cash
in advance by tonight.

If I agree
to the extra $ , .

It's up to you, Mr. Devlin.

I deal only in g*ns.
Not rebellion.

I'll be in touch.

I'm sure you will.

And when we meet again,

let's make it somewhere else.

Mr. Pauley.

(PIANO PLAYING)

So, a policeman says,

"What are you doing with that great
load of dynamite in that paper sack?"

(AUDIENCE LAUGHING)

"Dynamite?" says I.

"I'm only years old.

"And I'm begging
your English pardons,"

"the fella that sold it to me"

"said it was flaming bloody fireworks
to celebrate the king's birthday."

"King's birthday
ain't for five months."

"Oh, well, then, sirs."

"Celebration's
a bit premature."

"So, if it's all the same to you, I'll
wait for the great day back in Ireland."

Well, they packed me off

to an English hotel for the wicked,
complete with royal iron bars,

porridge like gravel,
and frequent roll calls.

"Devlin, Joseph!"

"Yes, sir."
"Where?"

"Here. Right here."

"Oh?"

"That's right."

"Devlin, Joseph."

"You are a miserable bit"

"of incomprehensible filth."

He could tell right off, I had the
makings of a professional poet.

Well now,
it's nearly :

and, as for my own poetry,
we're sick to death on it.

Glorious as it is.

Now, I grant you,
this is an odd gathering.

A boy from the back streets
of Belfast

come to wring your pockets
and your consciences.

But there are some here
with ties of blood

and some who have memories
of those selfsame streets.

Kate O'Connell.

She's given over her house for
these money-raising shenanigans.

And George, her son.

He's never seen
his mother's Belfast

but he understands
the pity of it.

Irish against Irish.

They cut each other down
with g*ns and bombs.

Oh, I've seen it well enough.
Kerry here fled from it.

The madmen on both sides.
Hot to k*ll, calling it duty,

passion, patriotism,

even morality, God help us.

And they said to me, "Once
you were one of us, Joe."

"Oh, no," I said. "No."

I was a foolish child.

I was one of your victims.

But we're all bloody victims
of the Irish sorrow.

Well, nothing was ever
solved by g*ns.

And nothing ever will be.

But by St. Pat's good hands
and a hand to the pocketbook,

we can look to the widows
and the orphans,

the helpless,
and the hopeless.

Because those of us here
in this house, this room,

this night,
we can be their help

against the lunatic gunmen.

We can be their hope.

And why not?

If we don't put it in
that little barrel,

I'll tell you
what'll happen to it.

(SINGING) Some find it most
important and others roll about

Some take delight in playing
and wind up full of doubt

Why search any farther,
the answer's where you are

So join the celebration,
it's whiskey in the jar

Oh, whack a diddle diddle
oh, whack a diddle dee

There's no greater pleasure
than whiskey in the jar

Oh, whack a diddle diddle,
oh, whack a diddle dee

It makes your spirits rise up
when there's whiskey in the jar

(AUDIENCE APPLAUDING)

For a rough guess,
I'd say $ , .

$ , this time.

You should've been
a businessman, Joe.

And live your life?

Not for all the wealth
of O'Connell Industries.

Don't you trust
your accountant, George?

My husband trusted everyone,
built the O'Connell business.

My son trusts no one
and built it twice as big.

I trust my son.

Go right ahead, George.

And make sure that Mr.
Moore puts the money in the right account.

You have the majesty
of queens, madam.

When will you see
your Mr. Pauley again?

When the time's right.
Does he know about the ship?

He knows she sails
on the th.

I want to be
at that meeting, Joe.

Well, now.

Mr. Pauley comes recommended
by our friends.

I wonder what that's worth.

You see, I'm not much of a
trusting fellow myself, George.

Mr. Pauley knows
no one in this room but me.

And no one in this room
knows Mr. Pauley.

So we'll keep it that way.

You take care of the money,
I'll take care of our business.

"For the great Gales
of Ireland

"Are the men
that God made mad"

"For all their wars are merry"

"And all their songs are sad."

And I wonder what
our guests would say

if they knew it was
all going to buy g*ns.

Mr. Devlin.
Mr. Pauley.

I have very good news for us.
Have you now?

Have a drink on it.
My very own.

How very thoughtful of you, Mr.
Pauley, and how very observant.

Will you join me? No.
I'll pass, thank you.

Then I'll drink
to my own good fortune.

This far and no farther.

Three hundred of these
delivered on the th.

The extra $ ,
struck a sentimental chord.

When I leave here, Mr. Pauley,
you'll have my money.

I'll have your sincere
promise of the g*ns.

May I count on the pleasure of
your company here in Los Angeles

until the weapons
are in my hands?

Whatever is necessary.
I'm very pleased to hear it.

You see, I'm curious as to how a
man like you spends his time.

Now, today, you treated yourself to a
fine blazer jacket with gold buttons.

You had an excellent lunch
of Indian curry.

I'm partial to the spicier
varieties myself.

Then you visited the airline
office in this very hotel

where you purchased passage
on a flight to Lisbon,

leaving in two
and a half hours.

Now, what puzzles me,
Mr. Pauley,

is how you can possibly
be in Lisbon

and Los Angeles
at one and the same time.

I see.

I think we'd better
clear the air here.

You're here to purchase g*ns,
not the story of my life.

But you do understand
my concern.

I don't have
to account to you.

We execute traitors,
Mr. Pauley.

Didn't you know that?

GEORGE: Love of God, Joe,
what have you done to us?

I picked up every piece
of paper in the man's suite.

Somewhere in these scraps, I'll find
his supplier and be my own middleman.

What supplier?

According to you, Pauley was
gonna steal our money and run.

This time he became greedy.

But he served
our friends before.

Where the hell do you think
he gets his g*ns?

Makes them in a cellar with Santa's elves?
Oh, George.

Somewhere there's a supplier.

How will you
introduce yourself?

"I'm Devlin.
I'm the lad who sh*t your dealer."

What the hell is he doing?
I'm writing my mother.

Well, he can write her how
we'll all end up in prison.

I want him back
in the brickyard.

George, you're like the
gallant young knight

who flung himself onto his horse and
went galloping off in all directions.

(DOORBELL RINGING)

Kerry.

(SEAGULLS CAWING)

Start with this, George.

No one of us had anything to do
with this base crime of m*rder.

It has nothing to do with us.
And if for the sake of argument

someone known to you or me

did take a hand
in punishing Vincent Pauley,

there is no connection
for the police to turn up.

Nothing ties the gunman
to the victim.

No one ever saw them together.

Only Vincent Pauley
knew his executioner.

Pauley's dead.
And that's the end of it.

There's a policeman
in the parlor.

(PINBALL MACHINE RINGING)

Excuse me.

My name is Joe Devlin.

Excuse me, sir.

I couldn't resist
trying your pinball machine.

I guess I tried a little too hard.
But that's an old problem with me, sir.

The way I keep steering and
pushing and pulling at things,

someday the whole sky is going to
light up and it's gonna say, "TILT."

And that's gonna be
the end of the world.

My name is Lieutenant Columbo,
sir, I'm with the police.

Homicide.

You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?
Oh, I've already seen you, sir.

I mean,
I've seen you before.

Your one-man show.

Mrs. Columbo,
she insisted that we go.

I'm gonna tell you
the truth.

I'm not all that much
of a poetry fan.

But the way that you held
that audience that night,

Mr. Devlin, you could've
heard a pin drop.

You were fantastic.

Oh, Mr. O'Connell.
This is Lieutenant Columbo.

And the young man is Kerry Malone,
late of the Emerald Isle.

If you're here about the parking
ticket, Lieutenant, I'll come quietly.

Right, sir.
That's what everybody says.

Well, in that case,
I'll escape while I can.

Joe.

Kerry, I left a bit of a
mess out there on the table,

perhaps you could
clean it up.

I will.

Well, now.
How can I help you, Lieutenant?

Well, it has to do
with a man named Pauley.

Vincent Pauley.

I believe
you knew him, sir.

Pauley?

The name isn't familiar.

Care to try your luck again, Lieutenant?
Oh, thank you very much, sir.

This is a real
treat for me.

Carries me right back
to my corner candy store.

(BALL DROPPING)

I could've sworn that you and Mr.
Pauley were acquaintances.

You never met him?

Should I have met him?
Oh, I forgot to say, sir.

He was sh*t to death last
night in his hotel room, sir.

My goodness.

We haven't been able to find out much
about him, sir. Except for this.

You see this, sir?

It's your book,
Up from Ignorance.

Well, certainly,
I'd recognize it anywhere.

We found this book, sir, in Mr.
Pauley's top coat pocket.

And right here, sir,
in the fly leaf,

you see this, sir?

That's where you signed his book.
"To Vincent Pauley, all the best, Joe Devlin."

I thought you certainly
must've known him, sir.

(PINBALL DROPPING)

It's all in the touch,
isn't it, sir?

Oh, yes.

The secret is in a fine hand.

I'm sorry, Lieutenant.
I signed thousands of these in the last month.

New York, Chicago,
San Francisco.

This particular book, sir, comes
from Chandler's bookstore

right here
in Los Angeles.

Well, I was signing
at Chandler's last week.

But I don't recall
your Mr. Pauley.

Well, there's this,
too, sir.

He wrote something right here, on
the top of the same page, sir.

We checked the handwriting
with the hotel registry.

You see this, sir?

He wrote these words.

"Ourselves Alone."

What do you think that means, sir?
I don't remember this.

That certainly
is a disappointment, sir.

He must've
written it in later.

It doesn't give us
much to go on.

Oh, dear.

Well, I guess
I'll be running along, sir.

Oh, look at that, sir.

It looks as if
you've beaten me.

It's all a matter of luck,
Lieutenant.

Oh, I doubt that you depend
upon luck, sir.

You're not that kind of man.

You know,
that's terrific.

Pinball machine, right
here in your living room.

No,

she'd never
go for it, sir.

Goodbye, Lieutenant.
Goodbye, sir.

(DOOR CLOSING)

(PLAYING PINBALL)

You bloody fool.

I didn't quite understand
that last part, ma'am.

I was wondering
how you liked it.

Oh, well, to tell you the truth, I
haven't had a chance to read it yet.

It's a smasher.
Especially if you're Irish.

Well, my name, ma'am,
is Columbo.

Lieutenant.
I'm with the police.

I'm wondering, ma'am,
if you can recall

seeing the man
that's in this photo.

He was here in this shop last week when Mr.
Devlin was signing his books.

Looks like he's asleep.
Yes, ma'am. You could say that.

This is the book
that he bought that day.

And Mr. Devlin inscribed it.

I don't remember him.

I'll ask the other clerks.

Well, thank you, ma'am,
that would be very helpful.

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

Sorry, Lieutenant. No Luck.
No one remembers him.

Well, thanks just
the same, ma'am.

Would you like me to have that
wrapped for you, Lieutenant?

Just browsing, ma'am.

$ for a book?

I could have
my car fixed for that.

That's a very expensive
book, ma'am.

Not if you enjoy erotic art.

Well, I'm not sure my wife
would go for it, ma'am.

Your wife might
just surprise you.

That's a fact ma'am.
She usually does,

but not $ worth.

Sinn Fein, Lieutenant.
Ma'am?

Sinn Fein. It's Gaelic for what's
written in the front of your book.

Mr. Devlin's book?
Mmm-hmm.

It's Gaelic
for "Ourselves Alone."

It's the battle cry
of the Irish Rebellion.

"Ourselves Alone?"
Is that what that means?

That's what that's meant
for years.

They're still sh**ting g*ns
over there.

Sinn Fein.

Goodbye, ma'am.

(DOOR OPENING)

Lieutenant.
Lieutenant Columbo.

Is this the latest
scientific method?

Only when we're not
expecting company, sir.

I didn't think we'd be seeing
each other so soon.

That's not a complaint, sir.
I'm very pleased.

As am I, Lieutenant.

I believe I may be
of some assistance.

I see you've been
reading my book.

Up to the part where you escape from the
English prison and come to America.

It's really fascinating, sir.
Well, as it turns out,

the most fascinating thing of all, is these
two words written by your Mr. Pauley.

"Ourselves Alone."

I remember them now.

I remember they were already here
when he gave me the book to sign.

I'll be a monkey's uncle.

You know, sir, that is exactly
the same thought that I had.

Because when you wrote there,
Mr. Devlin,

you wrote over the words "Ourselves Alone.
" You see that?

So, those words, "Ourselves Alone
," they had to be written first.

And those two words

just staring up at you
from a blank page,

that's why I wondered
why you didn't notice them.

I thought it was strange
at the time.

But not nearly as strange as a policeman
knocking on my front door making enquiries

about a m*rder. I'm afraid the
shock must've addled my memory.

Oh, don't mention it, sir.
I understand.

Lord knows, I know how
confused people can get

when the police come around
and start asking questions.

But to tell you
the truth, sir.

I've been asking myself a lot of questions
about some of the things in this room

and I don't mind telling you,
I'm very, very confused.

Someone with
a mind like yours,

a creative person with a
superior, logical brain,

do you think you could give
me a moment to help me, sir?

You put a poor poet out
of his depth, Lieutenant.

Well, just consider this, sir.

We found this whisky bottle
right here.

Right next
to Mr. Pauley's body.

But there's where it spilled.

You see the stains, sir?
Yes.

Whiskey.
The bottle must've been here.

On the desk.

Right over the stain.

The way I see it,
when Mr. Pauley got sh*t,

he knocked the bottle
to the floor

and it spilled out.

I'm afraid I'm missing
our problem, Lieutenant.

The problem is

how did the bottle
get from here...

to here?

And why?

I find that very interesting.
Do you find that interesting, sir?

Sounds a bit dreary to me.
Is it important?

Well, sir, the bottle didn't fly
around the room on its own.

There's gotta be a reason.

I plead poverty of invention.
I haven't a clue.

You must never make a mistake of
confusing Irish blarney with logic.

Well, sir, let's put
that aside for a moment.

I got another one for you.

I got it here someplace.

Have you considered motive
for Mr. Pauley's m*rder?

Well, it turns out
that's another problem, sir.

This is Mr. Pauley's briefcase.
A briefcase for carrying papers.

Only we can't find
any papers in the room.

Not a single shred, sir.

Not even in his wallet.

Not in his jacket pocket.
Not in the desk.

Unusual.

But we found his money and his
credit cards all over the floor.

So the motive
certainly wasn't robbery.

At least,
not your ordinary robbery.

Incredible the way you piece
these things together.

Well, we're just scratching
the surface, sir.

Here's something else
the k*ller might have taken.

If it was just
a robbery, that is.

The maid said this case
belonged to Mr. Pauley.

Good lord. A very warlike
gentleman, your Mr. Pauley.

That's another thing, sir.

The victim was k*lled
with his own g*n.

Better and better.
How do you know that?

We found the g*n
right here, sir.

The boys have it
down at the lab.

Then the k*ller
came into the room,

took a g*n
from this case.

Your Mr. Pauley hears the
breathless b*at of angel's wings,

as a drunken Irishman
once wrote.

And the assassin replaces
the g*n in the case. Hooray!

No connection
to the m*rder w*apon!

Well, it could've happened
that way, sir, very easily.

But not necessarily.

The k*ller might have already had Mr.
Pauley's g*n in his pocket

when he came
here last night.

I mean, we have to allow for
that logical possibility, sir.

Because they did
know each other.

Lieutenant, you're a fountain
of delightful surprises.

How can you be sure the
victim knew the m*rder*r?

Well, it's that
bottle again, sir.

Full's Irish Dew,
you see?

Now, according
to the hotel,

when Mr. Pauley couldn't get that
particular brand from room service,

he sent out for it.

And since he didn't drink himself, he must've
ordered the bottle for somebody, sir.

For the k*ller.
Was this the room of an ascetic?

Or was it
the house of the Devil?

A man who didn't drink,
you say?

He was a diabetic, sir.

We found this medical
alert bracelet on his wrist.

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

Here's what I've been
looking for all the time.

Here's where I'm really
going to need your logic, sir.

"LAP - - ."

What does that
mean to you, sir?

That's Mr. Pauley's
handwriting.

L-A-P, - - .

Well, I said "LAP,"
but I suppose.

"L-A-P" could stand
for something, too.

Could you give me a wee bit
of background, Lieutenant?

Oh, right, sir.
Sorry.

If you'll just step into
the bedroom for a minute.

(COLUMBO WHISTLING
THIS OLD MAN)

I found it tucked
right under this lamp, sir.

Just stuck there.

"L-A-P, - - ." You think it has some
special significance, Lieutenant?

Well, it occurred to me that maybe this
is what the k*ller was looking for.

What an interesting point.

Let's see what we can fetch up
from the dim, gray bog.

"L-A-P."

LA . That's the telephone
area code for Los Angeles.

But then you have
your "P," sir.

Yes, of course.

Why would anyone in Los Angeles,
write down the telephone area code.

When it's written right here
on the phone, sir.

"L-A-P."

Somebody's initials,
Lieutenant?

But then you have
your " - - ", sir.

A safety deposit box number.

I'm gonna write that down.

"P."

For police,
a police badge number?

Another good one.
A personal license plate.

Terrific. A code number
for a club membership?

You're fantastic, sir.

A postal code
outside the United States.

Well, I don't know
about that one, sir.

The mind flags,
temporary exhaustion.

Deprivation of nourishment.

Will you be my guest at lunch,
Lieutenant?

I was just
about to ask you, sir.

DEVLIN: This is for what I learnt
at The Rose and Thistle in Donegal.

This is for the Old Celt,
Londonderry.

This one's for the Royal Crown
in Belfast.

You've got your work cut
out for you, Lieutenant.

What do I need, sir?

Sixty-six to get out.

This is for taking on an
Irishman in his own backyard.

This is for being an
Italian in an Irish pub.

Hold this.

And this is for the sainted
memory of Sergeant Gilhooley.

(PEOPLE CHEERING)

Great shakes in Ireland,
you did it!

Well, I got lucky again, sir.

I'm proud of you.

Who is Sergeant Gilhooley anyway?
I might want to pray to him myself sometime.

He was a desk sergeant back in the th
precinct, taught me how to play darts.

Well, haven't I been taken for
a stroll through the woods.

And by a policeman,
into the bargain.

We're not that bad, sir,
when you get to know us.

Oh, I'm well acquainted
with the police, Lieutenant.

A penniless lad scooting through
the streets of New York.

You had to have a touch of rascality
in order to survive in those days.

You had to be quick of wit
and fleet of foot.

You had to do without a coat.

And tell yourself that an aching
belly was as natural as the shivers.

Most of all, you had to have
a keen eye for the police.

So, you see, Lieutenant.

Even today, when I spot a
gentleman of your persuasion,

my instinct is to flee.

Well, if you don't mind, sir, I'm going
to take that as a very high compliment.

(DEVLIN LAUGHS)

Sinn Fein, sir.

Ah? You're a revolutionary.

(IRISH MUSIC PLAYING)

For those of our years and intelligence,
that can be a risky undertaking.

Well, you've outgrown
all that, sir.

The w*r against the English
and all.

Some of my best sweaters
are English, Lieutenant.

We learn, as a drunken
Irishman once wrote,

to seek the unstained
pastures of peace.

You know what I think, sir.

I think the same fellow
who wrote that

wrote about the breathless
b*at of angel's wings.

Sinn Fein, that's Gaelic,
isn't it, sir?

How would you translate that?

"We, us."

"Those who stand by themselves.
" Something like that.

"Ourselves Alone," sir?

Yes, even better.

But when Mr. Pauley wrote those
words in your book, sir,

you said you thought
it was very strange.

You misunderstood me,
Lieutenant.

I meant, I didn't know why
he wrote "Ourselves Alone."

I suppose in retrospect,

it was an Irish salutation to an
Irish book-writer, that's all.

Well, that certainly
would explain it, sir.

Ah, Mr. Devlin,
your bottle, sir.

Drink hearty.

Not today, Joan.

Well, how do you
like that, sir.

Full's Irish Dew.

That's the same thing
Mr. Pauley had.

It is that.

Japan sends televisions.

Ireland sends whiskey.
Do you care for a nip?

No, thank you
very much, sir.

As a matter of fact, I think
I better be running along.

It's been
a terrific lunch, sir.

It's been my pleasure,
Lieutenant.

I'm sure we'll be seeing
each other again soon.

The detective,
what did he want?

What does anyone want, boy?

A bit of cheer and comfort.

This far and no farther.

Well, what is it, lad?

Well, after you left,
I was watching the telly,

and I happened to glance
at Mr. Pauley's program log.

Mr. Pauley's indeed.

There's a phone number written
there on yesterday's page.

And did you call
that phone number?

I did, sir.

It's a Mr. Jensen,
and I've got his address.

You're a credit
to your mother, boy.

Well, sir.

You look like a man
ready for the good life.

And how are you today, sir?
Excellent, thank you.

My name is Devlin.
I'm looking for Mr. Jensen.

One and only. You're in the
market for one of our beauties.

I'm in the market,
so to speak.

Mr. Pauley, Mr. Vincent Pauley
suggested I pay you a visit.

No, the name
doesn't ring a bell.

But we do have a passel
of customers here.

The turnover, you would not
believe, brother Devlin.

And that's because
our prices are right.

You just look at this little model right here...
Another time, perhaps.

Mr. Pauley was arranging
a purchase, I believe.

Well, if it's an RV,
we've got it.

We've got the largest
inventory west of Chicago.

Super savings on every shape,
every make, every model.

Perhaps Mr. Pauley was
negotiating with another dealer.

Thank you, Mr. Jensen.

Uh, uh...

Yes, sir, uh...

Now look, I'll tell you.
If you get a lower price from anybody

I'm going to give you
one of these gorgeous hats.

Yes, I will, sir.
And that goes for your friend, too, sir.

It will be a pleasure
to do business with you.

We're being counted on, Joe.

Time's slipping away.

I have never betrayed anyone
who counted on me.

Don't turn me
into one of those.

Right. Death before dishonor.

Long life, Majesty.

Unfortunately, they don't pass out
g*ns at the local supermarket.

Maybe you could think it through without
a glass screwed into your fist.

You and young Kerry
ought to get up an act.

Hymn-singing
for the multitudes.

George is right.
He's usually right.

Drink when it's done with.

Well then, why don't
I put the whole mess

into the princeling's
manicured fingers?

Might I remind you that your sole
contribution to this business

has been safe cash
and a righteous tongue.

But then, you've got such an executive
flair about you, Mr. O'Connell.

Why don't you step into
this mess and clean it up?

There's a policeman calling,
ma'am, to see you.

Or Mr. O'Connell.

(COLUMBO WHISTLING
THIS OLD MAN)

Would this policeman
be Lieutenant Columbo?

You, Mr. Devlin?

Me, Lieutenant.
Thank you, Kerry.

Well, this is certainly another
pleasant surprise, sir,

the way we keep running
into each other.

We just can't keep meeting
like this, Lieutenant.

Gee, this is some house.
This is a remarkable room, sir.

I mean, all this marble
and all this glass.

The most beautiful parlor
I've ever seen.

Well, it isn't exactly
a parlor, Lieutenant.

But come and meet the lady
it was built for.

May I present my friend, Kate O'Connell.
My friend, Lieutenant Columbo,

who hangs about Irish pubs and
skins unsuspecting dart players.

I believe you already know
of her son, George.

Yes, I remember,
Mr. O'Connell.

Thanks for seeing me, sir.
How do you do, ma'am?

About that dart business,
all I had was a lucky throw.

I certainly hope you'll forgive me
for barging in like this, ma'am.

Anyone who can skin Joe Devlin is
welcome in the O'Connell home.

Oh, thank you, ma'am.

Something wrong?

I didn't know
who I was dealing with.

I mean, O'Connell's.
Is it this O'Connell's?

O'Connell Industry?

And this and this and this.

My father built most of these.

And you built the rest, sir.

Look at this.

Dams and buildings and docks
and skyscrapers.

It's like the whole country was raised
right under the O'Connell flag.

It's not a flag, Lieutenant.

It's a company emblem.

We're not quite royalty for
all of Joe's desperate jokes.

You see?
The modesty of queens.

How can we help you,
Lieutenant?

Ah, well, ma'am,
Mr. O'Connell,

what it's about,

it's about the American
Friends for Northern Ireland.

I understand you're both
on the board of directors.

As am I,
Lieutenant.

Yes, sir.
You seem to be here, too.

As I understand it, you're
sort of a pacifist group?

It's nothing so dramatic,
Lieutenant.

We're Irish-Americans who deplore the
v*olence on both sides in Northern Ireland.

So we've banded together to do
what we can for the victims.

Why do you ask, Lieutenant?

Did you want
to make a donation?

I'm afraid it has to do with
a m*rder, Mrs. O'Connell.

A man named Pauley
was found sh*t.

Excuse me, ma'am.

That's a continental stitch,
isn't it?

You do needlepoint,
Lieutenant?

Oh, no, not me, ma'am.

My nephew's
the needlepointer.

It seems to relax him before he goes
into those weightlifting contests.

Excuse me, ma'am.

Ah, yes.

That's a basket weave stitch you've got
mixed in there, am I right, ma'am?

Right again,
Lieutenant.

You mentioned
Mr. Pauley.

Did I tell you, sir?
Maybe I forgot.

Did I mention that he was
an illicit arms dealer?

That would account
for the g*n case.

The boys at the FBI,

they got a file on him
that would choke a horse.

But this man,
Pauley, ma'am,

he was found m*rder*d
a few days ago.

Forgive me, ma'am for being
indelicate like that.

But you know, all the years that
I've been doing this kind of work,

I still don't know how
to make it sound inoffensive

when one person kills another.

You say this man was
in the weapons business?

Not only that, sir.

He has deals sending arms
to Northern Ireland.

g*ns bought right here
in this country, ma'am.

More blood and death.

So, while you folks are raising money
to help some of the victims over there,

it looks like there's other people raising
money for g*ns for the t*rrorists.

You mean here?
In southern California?

That's what the boys
in the FBI think.

I thought maybe you folks might have
heard about this g*n-running business.

About the kind of element who could
have been dealing with Mr. Pauley.

It's just a long sh*t, ma'am.
But we have to check it all out.

The m*rder*r just might have been
one of those Irish g*n-runners.

They've k*lled so many,
I suppose one more or less

wouldn't make that much
difference to them.

George, you could
have a look around.

That's all I ask, ma'am.

We'll see what we can find
out for you, Lieutenant.

You can count on us,
Lieutenant.

Mrs. O'Connell isn't one to
betray her responsibilities.

Are you, Kate?
Will you show the lieutenant out, Joe?

I can find my own way.
Thanks again, ma'am.

Mr. O'Connell. Mr. Devlin.
We'll stay in touch.

We'll all stay in touch.

It seems you've struck
up a fine friendship, Joe.

Oh, by the way, sir.

I've come up
with another one.

Another what?
"L-A-P - - ."

An address, sir.

What do you think
of Los Angeles Place.

Well done, Lieutenant.

I got somebody checking
it out right now.

A fine friend, indeed.

Ourselves Alone.

Mr. Brandon.

I can get my hands
on some M 's.

I prefer a smaller w*apon.

I'm just telling you
what I've got.

Fifty M 's. Maybe .

Not enough.

Like I said, I'm telling
you what I've got.

Thank you for telling me
what you've got.

Go to hell, Mr. Devlin.

DEVLIN: In actual fact, I'm
looking for a mutual friend.

A gentleman by
the name of Proctor.

What's going down?

The world,
in terminal descent.

We were in touch a year or two back, Mr.
Proctor and myself.

I thought we might
renew our acquaintance.

You mean g*ns?

Yes, possibly.
No more of that for Proctor.

No g*ns.

You see, we're into coke,
poppy and hash.

You know, happy stuff.

A moral decision, I assume.

Thank you for your time.

MAN: Not a chance,
not in this world.

What I sell goes out under license.
Strictly legal.

I'm offering
a considerable amount, man.

Surely that'll cover
any legal technicalities.

You got the wrong guy.
Sorry.

(DOOR OPENING)

Well, just don't stand in my doorway, Mr.
Devlin. Come on in.

These Coast Guard people are impossible.
They keep on changing their lights around.

Well, now, I trust
everything is going well.

I need help, Captain.
So do I, Mr. Devlin.

The merchandise
has been held up.

I need more time.

Perhaps you could
delay your departure.

I'm sorry to hear
about your merchandise.

For two or three days.

Not even for two or three hours, Mr.
Devlin. I have a schedule to keep.

Well, perhaps
you could contrive to...

(SHIP HORN SOUNDING)

How do you like that, sir?
We've both come up with the same thing.

LAP- .

Pier ,
Los Angeles Harbor.

Well done, Lieutenant.
And I thought I was going to surprise you.

Well, I gotta be
honest with you, sir.

Mrs. Columbo.
It was her idea.

I mean, the way that woman
reads the newspapers,

she reads the obituaries, she
reads the personal notices.

And she reads
the shipping news.

She showed it to me
right in the paper.

This here freighter
at Pier .

Oh, she's a beauty,
she is.

How did you come
up with it, sir?

Well, the truth is,
I had a bit of help myself.

You see, George O'Connell's firm
built several of these docks.

And it was his suggestion that LAP-
might refer to this very pier.

Isn't that terrific, sir.

Up there on the ship, was that
the captain you were talking to?

Yes. I was investigating.

Then, you know, sir, that the
ship is going to England.

Southampton.

No, I haven't quite
got that far.

Well, wait till you
hear this, sir.

Sergeant Burke made a couple
of telephone calls

and it turns out
that Southampton

is the main transshipment port
for all goods going to Belfast.

Belfast?

The g*ns.

Well, if we're right about Mr.
Pauley and the g*ns,

I guess it won't do no harm to take
some precautions, will it, sir?

What did you have in mind,
Lieutenant?

We'll bring in the FBI boys,
Customs, Coast Guard.

I'm going to have
this ship searched.

We'll check out everything
that comes aboard.

We'll check out every...

Will you look at that?

How do you like that?

That's practically
a brand new recap.

Criminal workmanship.

Can I give you a hand
with the spare?

Well, the spare, sir,
that's back in my garage.

Very sensible.

If you get a flat at home,
the spare's out and ready.

Well, I'll have to press on,
Lieutenant.

I have an appointment hawking my book
on one of those talk radio programs.

Oh, that's all right, sir.
I'll just call the auto club.

Good luck on your radio show.

Good luck
on your tire.

Oh, Mr. Devlin.
Just one more thing, sir.

Yes, Lieutenant.
I hate to bother you.

Could I borrow a dime?

A dime?
A dime, sir.

A dime, sir.

I'm looking at a glass
of good Irish ale

clasped firmly in the hand
that wrote Up from Ignorance.

Hi, Joe.

For those of you who want to call
Talk Radio, the number is - .

I'm Carole Hemingway.
My guest, Joe Devlin.

Poet, entertainer,
autobiographer, raconteur.

And infamous jailbird.

Joe, you were only .

Fresh as a daisy.
So was the dynamite.

What were you
going to blow up?

England.
Modest aim.

All of it, why?
Because it was there.

And I was Irish.
You're still Irish, Joe.

Ah, but of a different hue,
Carole.

Non-violent?
Violently.

A famous Irish philosopher named
Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel

once wrote that the essence of tragedy
isn't the conflict of right and wrong,

it's the conflict
of right and right.

Can we get some music on?

DEVLIN:... present bloodletting in Ulster...
Just bear with me, sir.

...Conflict between
wrong and wrong.

And for every death, there's
always a death to be avenged.

Vengeance, sweet vengeance,
Carole.

Ah, but what's the answer?
When will it stop?

Maybe at the great catch-up,

as another member of my tribe once
wrote, and wrote these words, too.

"Justice for the many,
justice for the free.

"Let each man be paid in full,
that's just enough for me."

CAROLE: With that, Joe,
let's take some more calls.

The number is - .

I'm Carole Hemingway.
My guest, Joe Devlin.

Hello, you're on the air.
WOMAN: Hello.

My name is Marion.

Would you mind, sir.
Could we pull into that gasoline station?

Can't you wait
another five minutes?

MARION: I've been writing poetry
ever since I was a little girl.

DEVLIN:
You have my sympathies.

One's first poem is usually
a shriek of pure anguish.

MARION: I was always
a very happy little girl.

What I wanted to know was if
you could give me some advice

on how to get
my poems published.

Ah, that does pose a
problem, doesn't it?

I made my first acquaintance
with a publisher by striking him

firmly on the nose during an
extemporaneous brawl in a bar.

Do you visit many bars,
Marion?

MAN: We're putting you through
right away, hold on, please.

Right.
Thank you very much.

I'm Carole Hemingway,
my guest, Joe Devlin.

Hello, you're on the air.

Hi, hello?
Hello.

May I speak to Joe Devlin?

Hello? That sounds like
a very familiar voice.

Yes, sir.
It's me again, sir.

Ah, we have a friend
on the line, Carole.

Lieutenant Columbo.
Right.

I was listening
to the program, sir,

and I was wondering, it's
just a trivial question, sir,

but it suddenly hit me.

I was wondering about that little
poem about justice for the many.

Was that written by the
same guy that wrote

about angel's wings and the
unstained pastures of peace?

No, indeed, Lieutenant.

I discovered that bit of doggerel
on the subject of justice

scratched on the wall
of a prison cell.

For all I know,
it may still be there.

Although I haven't
checked lately.

I thought, sir, that the
writer might've been you.

I'm sorry, Lieutenant.

The author of that scrap of
folk wisdom appended his name.

Michael Dolan.

Later hanged.

In any case, Mr. Dolan's passion for
justice became my inspiration to escape.

And to this day,
I revere his memory

as an original,
if untutored philosopher

on the roots of freedom
for all men.

If we are all paid in full,
we can't go far wrong.

Right, Michael Dolan, right.

Well, I won't be taking up
any more of your time, sir.

Nice talking to you, again.

(CAR HORN HONKING)

JENSEN: Brother Devlin.

Remember me?
Chuck Jensen, Jensen RV sale.

Of course, Mr. Jensen.

There I was, rolling along the
freeway when all of a sudden,

you come on the radio, loud and
clear, and I says to myself,

"That's got to be the Joe
Devlin that came to see me."

"I mean, it's got to be the real
Joe Devlin, no doubt about it."

"Only this time,
I'll go to see him."

Very enterprising of you,
Mr. Jensen.

But I don't think...
Brother Devlin.

Don't say no
before you hear my offer.

I've got a sweetheart
of a deal.

Make your eyes pop.
One look will make you a believer.

Just like I made a believer
out of Brother Pauley.

Indeed.

Now, why don't you just sit right
down here, brother Devlin,

and make yourself comfortable.

It's kind of nice,
ain't it?

And I can put you in one of
these little beauties for, uh,

about $ , .

You mentioned Mr. Pauley.

I've got your merchandise,
brother.

I was going to deliver to
Pauley, but wouldn't you know,

he turned up dead.

Yes. Unfortunate.

And I'm holding the goods,
the deal all made,

my middleman out of business and
no cash to feed the bulldog.

So the g*ns are all yours,
brother Devlin.

Same price, same terms,
cash on the barrelhead.

Yes, well. Let us say, for
the sake of argument,

the cash can
be made available.

Where's the merchandise?

You're sitting on it.

And...

And...

And...

It's gonna be a pleasure to do
business with you, brother Devlin.

(MOTORCYCLE ENGINE RUNNING)

(PEOPLE TALKING)

Here, Michael.

I just come from the docks.
Have you now?

The ship's thick with uniforms.
Customs, Coast Guard.

Ever on the alert.

Even the FBI by the look of them.
Always a comfort.

They're taking
the bleeding ship apart.

You'll never get
the g*ns aboard.

That's where you're wrong,
Kerry.

That's where
they're all wrong.

For all their hunting and seeking,
she'll sail with the g*ns, count on it.

And one day, you'll tell your sainted
mother how Devlin did the trick.

(DOOR CLOSING)

It's him.

Run along, now.

It's a pity about Mr. Pauley.

It's a pity about us all, Kerry.

And he's not the first
innocent victim of w*r, is he?

Hello, Lieutenant.
Come along and have a game of darts.

If you don't mind, sir,
I'll quit while I'm ahead.

Was that Mr. Malone
you was just talking to?

Yes, young Kerry brings word
from my booking agent.

The show is about
to return to the road.

With myself alone, center stage, bringing
truth and beauty to the multitudes

of the wealth of the Incas to your
humble servant. Have a drink.

Joan, two ales,
celebration size.

Well, to tell you the truth, sir, it's
sort of a celebration for me, too.

So tonight,
the treat's on me.

You just tell me
when this runs out.

What's your occasion, Lieutenant?
The case, sir.

Mr. Pauley's m*rder,
I think I'm getting close.

Then we'll drink
to your good fortune.

Here's to friendship,
ripe and long.

Here's to voices
raised in song.

Here's to a long
and thirsty night.

Here's to the stuff
that makes it right.

I got one for you, sir.

Well, this is not exactly
a toast.

We'll waive the formalities, Lieutenant.
Out with it.

"There once was
an old man from Lyme,

"Who married
three wives at a time.

"When asked why a third,

"he replied, 'One's absurd,

"'and two of them, sir,
is a crime."'

(PEOPLE LAUGHING)
It's a good one.

I accept that as a
challenge, Lieutenant.

Limericks at paces.
Ready, aim, fire.

"The limerick
is furtive and mean.

"You must keep her
in close quarantine"

"Or she sneaks to the slum"

"and promptly becomes
disorderly, drunk and obscene."

(PEOPLE LAUGHING)

That's a terrific limerick.
Try this one, sir.

"A real old bird
is the Pelican.

"His bill holds more
than this belly can."

"He can take in his beak
enough food for a week."

"I'm damned if I know
how the hell he can."

(PEOPLE LAUGHING LOUDLY)

"As I was drinking
gin and water..."

"And me being
Corporal Riley..."

"Who should come in
but the landlord's daughter."

"And she took my heart
entirely."

(DEVLIN LAUGHING)

"Said Aristotle unto Plato,
'Have another sweet potato."'

"Said Plato unto Aristotle, 'Thank
you, I prefer the bottle."'

I don't know how you do it, sir.
You never seem to run out.

What that was,
Lieutenant,

that was a statement
of preference.

Liam, me lad, this stuff's turned to water.
Bring us a proper drink.

You know what I was thinking
about tonight, sir,

driving out here
to the harbor?

I was thinking about that fella,
Michael Dolan, and that verse about

"Justice for the free."

"Let each man
be paid in full."

"That's just enough for me."

A chance remembrance,
Lieutenant.

There you were in that prison cell admiring
the man who wrote that on the wall.

Did you ever get to meet him?
No.

I was told he was ex*cuted.

For what crime, sir?

This was a long time ago,
Lieutenant.

Well, that chance remembrance
of yours,

about each man
being paid in full.

To tell you the truth, you made
me curious about Michael Dolan.

So I checked him out
with Scotland Yard,

and it turns out
that Michael Dolan...

They certainly know you
around this town, sir.

No matter where we go, out comes
your very own whiskey bottle.

Easy beginnings.
Prudent endings.

The trick is to know
when to stop.

This far and no farther.

Well, it's my stopping time,
sir, I think I've had enough.

Is it your intention
to insult the House of Devlin?

Sure and the only proper
thing is to end the evening

on a nectarous note.

I'll make you a deal.

Like you say,

this far and no farther.

To the drop.

You were speaking of
Michael Dolan, Lieutenant.

It turns out he was one of
those Irish t*rrorists.

According to Scotland Yard, he was
responsible for the m*rder of five people.

One of them, a woman.

And there was a child, sir.

I had no idea.

You were a t*rror1st yourself,
in those days,

I know you were very young.

But there was that business
with the dynamite.

I'm surprised you didn't know
about Mr. Dolan.

Insidious old age,
Lieutenant,

comes sweeping in
like winter before its time.

It could be I heard and forgot.
You didn't forget his name.

You remembered it
along with his poem.

Well, there's
the trick of memory.

You retain a man's name and a bit
of verse and forget the rest.

But that bit of verse,

when you realized that was
written by a fanatic m*rder*r,

it's hard to see how you could
call Mr. Dolan a philosopher.

Someone to be respected.

Like you said on the radio.

Well, if I said it,
Lieutenant,

it was without realizing
Mr. Dolan's true character.

Not much of a man to revere, was he?
No, sir.

No, he certainly...

Hold it.

Just a minute.

Something wrong?
That fella, Dolan,

he reminded me of one
that I almost forgot.

"There once was a fella
named Finnegan"

"Who escaped from a jail
so to sin again.

"He broke laws by the dozen,"

"Even stole from his cousin,"

"So the jail he broke out of,
he's in again."

Anything?

Nothing,
not even a slingshot.

Would you mind
checking again, sir?

(CAR HORN HONKING)

I'm glad you
could make it, sir.

I knew you'd be interested
to see how these boys work.

Thanks for thinking of me,
Lieutenant.

You can tell the O'Connells, sir.
If somebody is trying to run g*ns on this ship here,

they're certainly
going to be disappointed.

You sure he won't outwit us,
Lieutenant?

There's still a few hours
before she sails.

He might be able to fool me, sir.
But he's not going to fool these Customs boys.

But then, we don't know for
sure there are any g*ns, do we?

No. No, it's all conjecture.

Still, the Friends for Northern Ireland
do appreciate what you've done for us.

You've done
a job and a half.

It's more like
a half a job, sir.

I still got Mr. Pauley's
m*rder to think about.

I thought you had that
case well in hand.

I thought so too, sir, but it
slipped right through my fingers.

I suppose I ought
to get back to it.

Will you forgive me for bringing you
down here, sir, and then running off?

Oh, I understand, Lieutenant.

Fencing the hen house
is one thing.

Catching the fox
is another.

You do understand, sir.

Oh, one more thing, sir.

The next time you see Mrs.
O'Connell, will you tell her something for me?

My nephew won two prizes
the other day.

Second prize for
a needlepoint contest.

First prize for weightlifting.

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

Lieutenant Columbo.

Yes, Sergeant.
No, I want your help.

Call the Chief Customs Officer
at the Los Angeles Harbor.

Tell him to hold the ship
in Pier .

I don't want that ship
to sail.

(SHIP HORN SOUNDING)

We had to let her go.

She's clean.
Nothing else we could do.

Right, I understand.

(TUGBOAT HORN TOOTING)

KERRY: Lieutenant.

Please see Mrs. O'Connell if you don't mind.
She'd like a word with you.

Lieutenant.
Yes, ma'am.

Would you like
to sail away on her?

Run away to sea.
I think I would.

Well, I wouldn't want
to give up my work, ma'am.

And I want to thank you
for all your efforts.

There'll be no g*ns aboard
the ship, will there?

I don't really know that
for a fact, ma'am.

No, not for a fact.

Thank you, Lieutenant.
Good day.

Good day, ma'am.

(SHIP HORN SOUNDING)

Here you go, Mr. Devlin.
Ah, well done, Kathy, thank you.

I thought I might
find you here, sir.

Back at the scene
of the crime.

Sit down,
Lieutenant.

Care for a drink?
I wish I could, sir.

But not this time.

Ah.
Bound on official business.

How goes the trail?
Very warm, sir.

You might even say hot.

Then you found
your m*rder*r.

In a manner of speaking,
yes, sir, I have.

And I certainly have
you to thank.

Whatever for? That line in Mr.
Dolan's verse.

"Let each man
be paid in full."

Full's Irish Dew.

And take a look at what it
says on that label there, sir.

"Let each man be paid in full.
" Take a look at that.

Do you see what I mean, sir?
Both lines are identical.

"Let each man
be paid in full."

That's an interesting
observation, Lieutenant.

Here's what I think happened.
I'll bet my life on it.

Mr. Pauley and the k*ller,
they were negotiating a deal.

Arms for Northern Ireland.

Yes, yes, we discussed
that possibility.

But I don't understand
the connection

between a line of poetry, a
whiskey slogan, and a m*rder.

Right,
I'm getting to that, sir.

Remember the whiskey bottle
in Mr. Pauley's hotel room?

This is it.

Remember how
we couldn't figure out

how a bottle could fall
in one place

and end up in another place right next to Mr.
Pauley's body?

Yes, I recall that very well, Lieutenant.
Well, try this one, sir.

Mr. Pauley and the k*ller,

they are having
an argument about the g*ns.

Now, it's my personal theory

that the k*ller thinks
he was double-crossed.

So when he sh**t Mr. Pauley,

he thinks of it as being
more like an execution.

Like he's handing out justice.

"Let each man
be paid in full."

Now there's a whisky bottle
laying on the rug.

Another kind of "Let each
man be paid in full."

Well, the k*ller, he's got a
pretty good sense of humor, sir.

So he makes his own
private pun about it.

And he moves the whiskey bottle next to Mr.
Pauley's body.

Like the label
on the whiskey bottle

will label the m*rder for what it is.
An execution.

"Let each man
be paid in full."

Give him what he deserves.
Pay him off.

Very ingenious,
Lieutenant.

But I say, a bit skimpy
in a court of law.

Yes, sir, but I think
I handled that.

It's these other bottles.

Your personal bottles.

This one is from
the Irish pub.

This one is from the place we went
to last night, before we came here.

And like I said,

this one is from
Mr. Pauley's hotel room.

Now, do you notice anything special
about these three bottles?

They are, alas, empty.

There's something else,
Mr. Devlin.

Your bottle from the pub.

Take a good look at it
under the light.

You have me in a state of
wild suspense, Lieutenant.

Please, go on.

It's these scratches, sir.

You see these tiny scratches?

They're on all the bottles.

You see, the k*ller,
he had that habit.

He would make a mark
on the bottle,

and that would set how much he was
gonna drink in any one sitting.

Like on this bottle, sir.

This is a full bottle like the one that was in Mr.
Pauley's hotel room

before it got
knocked off the desk.

And there's the scratch, sir.

And there's the scratch
on Mr. Pauley's bottle.

All the same scratches.

But hardly identical, Lieutenant.
Oh, yes, sir.

Absolutely identical.

I had the boys down at the
lab make a microphotograph

of all these scratches.

There you are, sir.

The scratch on your bottle
from the pub.

The bottle from the other bar.

And the same scratch
on Mr. Pauley's bottle.

You see that, sir?

Right there
in the photographs.

They're the very
same scratches.

Identical, sir,
like fingerprints.

And why are they identical?

Boys at the lab say the scratches
were made by a diamond.

I'd say a ring, sir.

And every diamond in the world
has its own special pattern.

Every diamond leaves
its own special signature.

Find the diamond,

and I've found my m*rder*r,
sir. What do you say to that?

(SHIP HORN SOUNDING)

Do you know these lines,
Lieutenant?

They're by Lewis Carroll.

"You can charge me with m*rder...
or want of sense...

"We are all of us
weak at times:"

"But the slightest approach
to a false pretense"

"Was never among my crimes!"

Well, sir, you pretended to raise
money to help the Irish victims

and all the while you were
planning to make more victims.

Wasn't that a pretense, sir?

Politics makes liars
of us all, Lieutenant.

I bargained for the g*ns.

I'll stand by my bargain.

No regrets.

(SIRENS BLARING)

(HELICOPTER APPROACHING)

That'd be the Coast Guard,
sir.

To stop the ship.

DEVLIN: You knew.

That was a very clever plan,
Mr. Devlin,

the way you handled the g*ns.

Very clever.

I never would've
figured it out,

if it wasn't for Mrs.
O'Connell's needlepoint.

Kate's needlepoint?

The g*ns, they aren't
aboard the ship at all.

Not yet, sir.

The g*ns aren't aboard
the ship yet.

They're still on the tug.

They would've been loaded
aboard the ship

just before the ship
put out to sea.

But the house flag
on the tug, sir,

the company emblem,

that's the O'Connell
company emblem.

Just like Mrs.
O'Connell's needlepoint.

She does terrific work, sir.

I guess it was
just dumb luck.

My noticing that your friends
owned the tugboat.

So that's where
the g*ns would be.

No, it's never just luck,
Lieutenant.

Didn't your Sergeant Gilhooley
teach you that?

Well, now that you mention it, sir,
he did tell me to keep my eyes open.

Are you sure you won't
join me, Lieutenant?

Well, maybe I will
after all, sir.

Now that we've come this far.

This far

and no farther.