Family Plot (1976) - full transcript

Someone is here.

Not closely.

Not willingly.

I feel they're
holding back.

What's the trouble, Henry?

Too many memories, too much pain.

Too much sorrow.

Whoever is there with you,

tell them to
speak up, Henry.

Tell them
to come closer.

I think I know who
it is, Madame Blanche.



I think I know
what's bothering her.

Her, is it?

Never you mind,
Miss Rainbird.

I won't have you doing
Henry's work for him.

Now, let's have it,
my love.

That's why
we're here tonight.

To help my friend
be rid of her torment.

She has a right to rest her weary head
on a pillow each night

and sleep the peaceful
sleep of the angels.

How did you know about
my troubled sleep?

Who told you?

Her nights cannot go on
like this much longer.

I never told a soul about my nightmares.
How could you...

Who is this person who arrives
in our presence tonight



but does not dare
to come close to us?

It's her.
It's my sister Harriet.

It must be.

She stays
her distance, Julia Rainbird,

for she does not feel your love
or your kindness yet.

There is selfishness
where you are.

I've had all
I can take from her.

Night after night,
coming into my dreams.

Whining, complaining,
trying to make me feel guilty.

As though I need her to
tell me right from wrong.

Tell her I know
what has to be done.

I've been wanting
to do it for a year.

But it is I, Julia Rainbird,
who has made the decision.

I don't need her
to goad me on!

They're making me ill with their
ugly words in my ugly dreams.

Tell her to stop it,
to go away and leave me alone.

No, no. No, no. Don't let her go.
Don't let her go away.

Harriet? Harriet,
stay with us, Harriet.

Your sister wants
to speak to you now

from the depths
of her soul.

What's wrong?
What is it?

She says, "I've waited so long
to hear from you, Julia.

"I've been so unhappy
without you."

It is you, Harriet.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

I should never have
made you do it.

It's all past now,

but I'll do what I can
to make up for it.

If he's still alive,
I'll find your son.

And I'll take him in
my arms and love him

as if I were you,
my poor Harriet.

And I'll make him
one of us

and give him everything,
everything.

Far away.

So far, far away.

But I need her.
I need her help.

I can't do it alone.

You see,
I need her memory.

It's over 40 years ago,

and I don't know where the child
was taken or who it was given to.

I don't know where he is now
or who he is.

The true measure
of Julia Rainbird's love

lies in what
she does now

with your help, of course,
and mine,

and that of the dear,
departed one

who has drifted
so far from us.

We understand him.

Don't we,
Miss Rainbird?

Oh, yes. Yes, I do.

I'm willing to do anything,
anything at all.

In the end,
there will be happiness.

From the tears
of the past,

the desert of the heart
will bloom.

Goodbye, Julia Rainbird!
Goodbye, Blanche.

Goodbye.

Madame Blanche,
are you all right?

It was...

What in the world's
been going on here?

I feel as though
I've been properly done over.

Don't you remember
what happened?

Mmm-mmm.

Not the details,
Miss Rainbird,

only the gist,
if you know what I mean.

Suppose you give me
the gist of it.

Well, I wonder...

Could I trouble you for a sip
of something? Just...

Oh, of course.
What would you like?

Oh, a double shot
of anything.

A spot of that sherry
might be nice.

Yes, of course.

Thank you.

Now, tell me what you remember
of the séance.

- In a nutshell?
- Please.

About 40 years ago,
you arranged

to have your sister Harriet's
baby given away without a trace.

And now, your bad dreams
and a troubled conscience tell you

to find the grown-up person,
take him into the family,

and bestow
your wealth on him.

Excellent.

Thank you.

And why did I force my sister
to give the child away?

I guess the kid was illegitimate,
Miss Rainbird.

I don't want you to think me
a puritan, Madame Blanche.

But 40 years ago,
an unmarried mother

was not the commonplace
it is nowadays.

And in a family
like ours,

a scandal had to be
covered up at all costs.

I understand.

And I'm still
sufficiently old-fashioned

and sufficiently protective
of the Rainbird name

to want to seek
the missing heir

in a private
and secret fashion,

rather than go to
detective agencies

and put notices
in the newspapers.

Most wise decision,
Miss Rainbird.

Well, now, suppose we get to the reason
for my sending for you.

I'm 78 years of age.

I would like to go to my grave
with a quiet conscience.

Particularly as I know that my only heir
is out there somewhere,

deprived by my acts of
his true Rainbird name.

Will you help me
with your powers?

If in your heart
you believe that I can,

then I owe it to both of us
to try, Miss Rainbird.

No, I'm too old
for trying.

I've only time enough left
for results.

Find him for me,
Madame Blanche.

Use your spirit-control,
your Henry.

Get through
to my sister.

Find her son, whoever he is,
wherever he is,

and I'll pay you $10,000.

Only if you genuinely
wish to, Miss Rainbird.

But let's not think of this as
a payment to me.

There are many causes
dear to my heart

which need all the charity
the world can spare.

You've no idea how refreshing it is
for a woman of my wealth

to find someone who has
so little use for money.

Thank you.

Well, now, I regard
our arrangement as completed.

It's my bedtime.

I must take leave of
your delightful company.

This has been a most memorable evening
for me, Miss Rainbird.

See to it that
you make it a rewarding one.

At the risk of
repeating myself,

I hope you will not
forget that nobody,

absolutely no one,
should know of our search.

The Rainbird name
must be protected.

My jaw is locked.

On that note, I will say goodbye
and thank you for coming.

So, how'd it go?

I don't know. Having to
do Henry is murder on my throat.

Murder.

Yeah, yeah. I know.

So how did it go?

She's hooked,
waiting to be pulled in.

Another one of
your $25 sardines?

No. This is
a big one, George.

A great big whale.

Well, come on. Give.

Keep your eyes on the road.
Don't rush me.

Okay, Blanchie.

Start way up
at the top.

Well, it was
as simple as ABC.

Henry came to me from
the upper brightness,

whispered to me, "This woman's been
having sleep problems."

From there on, things followed
naturally, logically.

Aha! So I came through for you again,
didn't I, darling?

No. What are you
talking about, George?

What do you mean,
what am I talking about?

You know damn well
what I'm talking about.

All that information that I dug up
by gabbing to the local druggist

about how she was
driving him crazy

trying to get sleeping pills
without a prescription.

That could have been
very, very useful to me.

Why didn't you
tell me about that?

What do you mean, why didn't I tell you?
I told you.

You know damn well
I told you, Blanche.

No, you always think you tell me things,
and you forget to.

I have to go through
heaven and hell,

the great beyond,
with Henry.

Henry, my ass.

It was me.
It's always me.

Without my research, you're about
as psychic as a dry salami.

Nasty. Nasty, nasty.

I'm sick and tired of having you
have me by the crystal balls.

Leave your crystal balls
out of this, George.

No, let's leave Henry
out of this

and keep the bullshit
for your customers.

You're jealous of him,
aren't you?

Oh, please, Blanche.

I like your jealousy.
It's your driving that stinks.

Hey, look. I happen to be
an actor, not a cab driver.

I can play cab drivers, but I sure
as hell don't have to drive like one.

Well, until I can collect
from Julia Rainbird,

I'm afraid you're gonna have to
go on playing a cab driver.

Neither of us seems to be very fond
of starving to death.

Well, how are we
supposed to collect?

How much is this Rainbird whale
gonna spout up?

Also, you're gonna have to go on
playing a private eye.

Christ, no! I've had it
playing private eyes.

Christ, yes.

Now, George.
Stop blaspheming.

You wanna put the curse
on 10 big ones?

Now, wait a minute,
Blanche.

Did you say
10 big ones?

Mmm-hmm.

- Ten thousand?
- Mmm-hmm.

Dollars?

Dollars, George.

Now, Blanche, you got any idea what you
and I could do with 10 grand?

Mmm-hmm. We could
even get married.

What are you always
a wet blanket for?

Oh, you flatter me so.

Well, what's the deal?
What do we have to do for the money?

I'll tell you about it
in bed, afterwards.

Aw, come on, Blanche.
Give me a hint.

Just a little foreplay.

All right. Find one man.
That's all.

Well, we've had to do worse
than that. What's his name?

Hmm.

Nobody knows.

Well, who is he?

That's the problem.
Nobody knows.

Where is he?

Nobody knows.

Well, for Christ's sake!
You mean, nobody knows, Blanche?

Nobody knows his name,
or where he is, or who he is?

Well, George,
stop yelling.

There's a possibility of one person
who might have known.

Well, who's that?

Julia Rainbird didn't
mention him to me.

Fortunately, her friend
Ida Cookson did.

Well, who is it?

The Rainbird
family chauffeur.

Well, now you're talking.
Now we're on our way.

Trouble is, well,

he's been dead
for 25 years.

Oh, for Christ's sake,
Blanche...

No, no, no, no, no,
don't start to fret, George,

or our water bed will be
no fun at all tonight.

As an actor, you should know fretting
will ruin a performance.

You're not gonna have to worry
about my performance tonight, honey.

As a matter of fact,
on this very evening,

you're gonna see
a standing ovation.

She's here.

No, not a man.
It's a woman. Right.

Follow me.

As long as you've got Victor Constantine,
we can't touch you.

So you might as well
put that thing away.

You've been calling yourself
The Trader, so we thought you were a man.

I think we deserve some assurance
that the victim is still alive.

All radios have been removed
from the helicopter as you instructed.

"Mr. Constantine
will be unconscious

"but in perfect condition
when picked up.

"Just let him
sleep the drug off."

All right, Sergeant,
turn on the lights.

Don't try and be a hero.

Yes, sir.

Well, we've done our part.

Where are we going?

Not one
goddamn mistake.

How far are we going?

It's lucky for you
that you still got the victim.

I'd like nothing better than to toss you
right out of this thing on your head.

You sure have this
little trip mapped out, don't you?

I bet that thing
isn't even loaded.

Golf course, huh?

Brilliant.
Absolutely perfect.

My feet are killing me.
These damn six-inch heels.

I happen to like
tall women.

Everybody likes
tall women.

In fact, everyone's going
to be looking for a tall woman.

Aside from
complaining a lot,

what have you been doing
with yourself lately?

Oh, nothing much. Picking up
a ransom, that sort of thing.

Did you see
anyone we know?

Two men who looked like police
and a third who just had to be FBI.

You mix with
the nicest people.

Beats housework.

Did you say
anything to them?

Not a syllable.

Now, you see, honey?

I told you you could learn
to keep your mouth shut if you tried.

Look who's here.

Has anyone seen a tall,
blonde woman around here lately?

Gone, poof!
Who needs her?

I do.

At least
one more time.

Let me put that
there, darling.

Mr. Constantine
has left us some wine.

I don't think he likes
the imported stuff.

It was probably
my veal parmesan.

I'm afraid
I overcooked it.

He likes eating in a room
with a view. That's all.

You know how fussy
rich people are.

Don't forget to
empty that out.

Don't you think
emptying a chemical toilet

is a little below the dignity
of a jewel collector?

The wages of sin, Arthur.

I'll do it tomorrow.

Never put off
till tomorrow

what you can
empty out tonight.

Bitch.

Arthur, what's
Amsterdam like?

Oh, lots of canals.

Lots of wizened old men
with sharp eyes

sitting around, cutting big stones
into little ones.

You'll see.

I don't know what's come over me tonight.
I'm tingling all over.

I told you about danger,
didn't I?

First,
it makes you sick.

Then when you get through it,
it makes you very, very loving.

Darling...

Hmm?

It was all too easy.
It's frightening.

Brilliant planning.

They don't have
a single lead to follow.

What about the ketamine
we stuck him with?

Well, if Dr. Vogel didn't miss it
six months ago

when I had my wisdom tooth out,
he's not gonna miss it now.

Don't finish up in there.
Let's go to bed.

Tired?

Mmm-mmm.
Tingling all over.

How'd I ever let you
get me into all this?

I thought I fell in love with you because
I needed some stability in my life.

Well, I guess you're just a bad
judge of character.

Where'd you put
the diamond, dear?

Where everyone
can see it.

- You didn't.
- I did.

Are you gonna
tell me where?

You'll have to
torture me first.

Oh!

I intend to
in a few minutes.

Now with all due respect to the FBI
and the Bureau of Inspectors,

I have no time
to play games.

Now lest we forget,
gentlemen,

I have been away
from this desk forcibly.

I've got a lot of work
to catch up on.

Now how many more times are we
gonna go through this goddamn thing?

Until we come up with something,
Mr. Constantine.

That's a hell of a way
to solve a kidnapping.

Mr. Constantine, you're not
the first victim, you know.

There have been others.

All right, all right. But from me,
you'll learn absolutely nothing.

- You never know.
- I know.

All right. Floyd?

Now, the underground garage.

Full of cars.

Sounds?

People behind me.

Was it a man,
or was it a woman?

I don't know.

Man or woman?

- Man.
- Then what?

There was a prick
in my shoulder.

I started to turn,
and I woke up in a room.

Yes, and what did you hear,
inside or outside?

The room was
soundproofed.

I never heard anything except
a disembodied voice over a loudspeaker.

Describe it.

But I've already done that.

Again.

It was the voice of a man,
no accent.

Doctored up electronically.
Unrecognizable.

How many of them
were there?

Two, a man and a woman.

Why do you say that?

Because the faintest light filtered down
from the hallway above.

But not enough to give me a chance
to see who they were.

- Yes, and who did the cooking?
- She did.

Why?

Because a man
would not bother

to put the parsley on the filet
of sole. That's why.

How old is she?

Come on now. Please.

- How old is she?
- 25.

- Why?
- Why?

Because if a man my age is
gonna get kidnapped by a woman,

he wants her to be 25.
That's why.

Describe your return.

The return.

The disembodied voice tells me to sit
with my back to the door.

The light goes out. The door opens.
They both come in.

I feel a prick
in my left arm.

The next thing I know,
I wake up in that hospital bed

with you sitting there,
thinking up questions!

Thank you, Mr. Constantine.
You're doing great.

That's what you think.

All right, let's start
all over again.

Ah, shit!

Why, Henry, you have such
a beaming smile on your face.

I smile because
I'm happy, Blanche.

It comes through you,
Blanche,

from your friend,
Ida Cookson.

I'm her guide, Henry.

Friendship can be claimed only
when it cannot be denied.

Tell Ida Cookson
we're all thankful here

for the warm tranquility
in her heart.

It will grow even warmer as she trusts
in you, and confides in you,

and holds back
no secrets from you,

be they her own or those
of her intimate friends.

Did you hear that,
Mrs. Cookson?

Yes, Madame Blanche.

Henry, I want you
to seek Walter for us now.

Search through the double strand
of kindness

until my friend Ida Cookson is joined
in loving communication

with her dear,
departed husband.

I will try, Blanche.

But first, the mist
must part a little,

and the veil must rise to let in the light
that will show us the path.

I'm ready now, Henry.

Ready! Ready to follow you
wherever you want me to go.

Where? Where are you
taking me, Henry?

Yes, yes, yes! I see.
I see your hand beckoning to me.

Oh, what a lovely garden,
Henry. My, my.

Oh, is that
a statue there?

Oh! Could this be Walter standing
beside the fountain?

How can you
do this to me?

- I need your car keys. I'm in a hurry.
- Oh!

Do you realize what damage you can
do to my psyche, breaking in this way?

For God's sake, just give me your keys.
I need them.

Yes, Henry!
What for?

I've located the daughter
of the Rainbird chauffeur,

- and I'm not going around there as a cab driver.
- Oh!

What am I supposed
to do without my car?

I don't care
what you do.

Take a taxi.
Just give me the keys.

The trees are swaying,

and the branches part!

But there's no one there!
Here.

I see shadows falling! The air is
getting cold! The brightness dims.

Goodbye, Henry! Goodbye.

Did you find Walter?

- Where?
- In the kitchen.

I did.

I wonder if I could speak to you
for a couple minutes, Mrs. Hannagan.

Why, sure.
Do we know each other?

No, I'm Frank McBride of the law firm
of Ferguson, Ferguson and McBride,

and I just wondered if you would
mind answering a couple questions

about your background.

- My background?
- Mmm-hmm.

It's as dull
as dishwater.

I mean, what in the world
would you be wanting with that?

Well, let's just say that the information
that I'm interested in

could be worth
a great deal of money.

- Oh, yeah? To who?
- Mmm-hmm.

Well, we'll get around to that pleasant
little subject in a minute

if you don't mind.

- Okay.
- Oh, swell.

Now, why don't we just start
at the beginning? Your parents.

Oh, they're both dead.
God rest them.

Your father was a chauffeur,
though, right?

How the heck
did you know that?

He was a chauffeur
for the Rainbird family.

Right again.

You'd be a hell of a detective,
Mr. McBride.

I don't know about that, my dear.

Now during this
period of time, though,

can you remember anybody being
a close friend of your father's?

There was a man. It was
way back when I was in school.

There was this guy that my father used
to drink beer with

and shoot pool with
down in the Village.

This Harry Shoebridge.
Had a poultry shop with his wife, Sadie.

Shoebridge.

Yeah.

His business
was always lousy,

even when times
were good.

And she used to
have miscarriages

like other women
have birthdays.

Well, they stopped trying,
and they moved away to Barlow Creek

and adopted a kid,
I think.

A boy?

Yeah, an infant.

But, you know,
I'm not so sure.

It's all kind of hazy,
and I keep connecting it with...

Well, I remember
this night

with my dad driving over there
to the Shoebridge's all alone,

and then getting in
a big fight with Ma,

because he'd come
home at 4:00 a.m.,

and he wouldn't tell her
what he was doing or something.

Now after my dad passed away,
God rest his soul,

my ma was damn mad
at the Shoebridges,

because they never
showed up at the funeral.

Then she found out why.

Why?

A year earlier, they'd gone
to their own funeral.

Dead?

Their house burned
down with them in it.

Well, what about the son?

Mrs. Hannagan, can't you see that
there are customers waiting?

Oh, yes. Yes.
I'll be right there.

She'll be right there,
ma'am.

Look, Mr. McBride, about all this
being worth something...

Mrs. Hannagan!

- Yeah.
- Wait a second.

This Shoebridge son,
where do I look for him?

Well, try the
Barlow Creek Cemetery.

What do you mean,
the cemetery?

Well, I'm not sure,
but I think he's dead, too.

Sorry.

Dead end, Blanche.

Dead and buried.

Caretaker.
Do something for you?

I'm just a friend
of the family.

None left.
Bad business, that.

You mean the fire?

Never liked them
multiple funerals.

Too much work involved
all at one time.

They died together,

yet they're not buried together
in the same hole.

How come?

Search me.

Here. Look.

Died 1950.

Died 1950.

Both died the same date.

Old stone.

This is
a practically new stone.

Smart fellow, ain't ya?

Why? Have I stumbled on
to something?

Well, nice meeting you.

Better get back to my work. I got
a job coming in here tomorrow.

Turn that damn
thing down, Marcella.

I can't even
hear myself think.

How do you expect me to remember
anything that far back?

I'd have to go through my old files
for that kind of information.

Well, Mr. Wheeler,
I hate to insist.

You know something,
Mr. McBride?

You lawyers are all alike.
Trouble, trouble, trouble.

Well, come on.
I don't have all day.

What year did you say
the family died?

Uh, 1950.

What month?

Oh, I can't
help you there.

Shoebridge.

- Can I sit down here?
- Sure. Yeah, go ahead.

Shoebridge.
Shoebridge.

Here it is.

"Shoebridge. Harry and Sadie.
Large marble. Model 28.

"Paid in full.
Check number 93.

"First Church of Latter Day Saints,
Barlow Creek."

What about the son?

Edward Shoebridge.
He's their son.

Edward?

Yeah.

Nope. Nothing.

What do you mean,
nothing?

There's gotta be something.
Maybe it came later.

Wait a minute. You're talking
about Eddie Shoebridge.

His headstone?
Yeah, that did come later.

I think in '65.

Sure, I remember that kid.

He wasn't too popular
around here.

Some say he set
that fire himself,

you know,
to get rid of his family,

and then disappeared to make it
look like he died in the fire, too.

They never did
find his body.

You mean, there's
no body in that grave?

Well, as I recollect,

that's why the local parson
wouldn't say any services for Eddie.

Well,
wasn't there a death certificate?

I wouldn't know about that,
and I don't need to know.

I'm just a businessman,
Mr. McBride.

Ah, here it is.
"Edward Shoebridge. Granite special.

"Ordered November 12th.

"Paid for November 18th, 1965.
$395."

Now, that's funny.
It's paid in cash.

They don't
usually do that.

- Who was it?
- I don't know, Mr. McBride.

I guess he didn't
want his name known.

Well, what do
you mean, "he?"

You just said "he."

I did, didn't I?

Well, you know, I seem to sort
of remember that it was a man.

Yeah. A young fella.

Slightly bald.

I'd say
in his late 20s.

And did you see him again
when you put in the headstone?

We didn't do that.

He came by and
picked it up himself.

Yes, I remember now.

In one of those
tow trucks,

you know,
the kind that garages use.

Gotcha.

No, there is no death certificate here
for Edward Shoebridge.

Only Harry J. Shoebridge
and Sadie L. Shoebridge.

That's all you have?

Well, there is this.

It appears to be an application
for a death certificate

for one Edward Shoebridge,
dated November 4th, 1965.

"Inasmuch as applicant could
furnish no proof of death

"for party whose body
had never been found,

"and who could supply
no medical death certificate

"and nothing from the coroner's office,
the application was denied.

"Applicant, when informed he could file
a petition for court action,

"declined
the suggestion."

Does it say who
the applicant was?

Yes. "Request was made
by Joseph P. Maloney,

"426 Main Street,
Barlow Creek."

Attagirl. Thank you.

Welcome.

Fill her up?

Please.

You want me to check
under the hood?

If you would, please.

Better be careful
with those matches.

Oh. Right. Sorry.

- This your place?
- Yeah.

Then you must be
J. Maloney.

Tell me, does that
stand for John or Jim?

Joe.

Right.

Everything's okay.

It's funny.
You didn't hardly need any gas.

Didn't need no oil.

Guess you didn't come here
for the car, huh, mister?

Could you get my
windshield, please?

Don't worry.

You wouldn't happen to know a guy
by the name of Edward Shoebridge,

would you?
Used to live around here.

Name don't ring
no bell with me.

What would you be
wanting with this...

What's his name,
Shoebridge?

Yeah. Legal matter.

You're a lawyer?

Yeah.

Name's McBride.
Frank McBride.

First time I ever talked to
a lawyer didn't cost me money.

Actually, Mr. Maloney,
by talking to me,

- you could make yourself some money.
- Yeah?

I'm prepared to pay a reasonable
sum of cash right now

for any information that could
lead me to Eddie Shoebridge.

Where I come from,
lawyers are usually bad news.

Oh, no. Not this time.
This time they're good news.

Matter of fact,
I think that Eddie Shoebridge

would be delighted
when he hears from me.

What are you
gonna tell him?

Well, my client has asked me
to keep that confidential.

Who hired you
to find this guy?

That's confidential also.

Sure like to help you, mister.
Business ain't all that good around here.

- I think you can help me.
- Is that right?

Mmm-hmm.

See, people around here have been
telling me that Eddie Shoebridge is dead.

Well, if he's dead, looks like
he ain't gonna be hearing

all that good news you
have to tell him, huh?

I think he's alive.

Sure don't keep
this car very clean.

You want to tell me why you put
a headstone on an empty grave, Maloney?

What headstone?

The one you paid $395 for
back in 1965.

You owe me $2.47, mister.

Two weeks before that, you went
to the county courthouse

and asked for a certificate of death
for Edward Shoebridge,

and you were
turned down.

You wanna give me
your credit card?

No. Credit cards are out.

Like you,
I prefer to pay in cash.

Now this one happens to be my
personal favorite.

Isn't it exquisite?

Probably too expensive
for me.

Can I help you, sir?

Excuse me.
I'll be right back.

Mrs. Clay? Would you take care of
Mrs. Cunningham for a few moments?

Certainly,
Mr. Adamson.

I'm afraid
I rather like it.

Hey, Eddie,
you old son of a bitch.

If it's all the same to you,
I prefer Arthur Adamson.

Now, what in the hell
are you doing here?

Had to see you about something
kind of urgent.

That's all, Eddie...
Arthur.

Couldn't you have
phoned me?

Some things you don't
put on no telephone.

Hey, you got
any booze around?

All right, Joseph.
What is it this time?

New freezer
for your wife?

Mother needs
another operation?

Bookies threatened
to kill you? What?

Come on, Eddie. You make me sound
like some kind of sponger.

Not that I ain't grateful
for all your favors.

Did I ever
have a choice?

Okay, okay.
Here it is.

First off, I gotta
ask you a question.

Go ahead.

Now tell me. No shit now, Eddie.
Can you think of any reason

why anyone would be sniffing around
in your life after all these years?

I can't think of
any reason at all. Why?

Well, there's this guy
comes around the garage today

trying to locate
Eddie Shoebridge.

Claims he's a lawyer
who's got good news for you, Eddie.

Won't say what or who
he's working for.

Calls himself McBride. I knew he was
a phony the minute I seen him.

- Police?
- No way. He's a real amateur.

I traced his license plates
with the bureau.

Doesn't even drive
his own car.

"Blanche Tyler,
17 Castle Heights Road."

What did he look like?

He's tall, thin, about 35.

He's always got a pipe on.
Asking a lot of smart-ass questions.

What'd you tell him?

Nothing.
Not a goddamn thing.

I didn't have to.
He knew everything.

Fake headstone
you had me put up.

How I tried to get you
officially declared dead.

The son of a bitch says he thinks
you're still alive.

He's looking
for you, Eddie.

And any son of a bitch who's looking
for you is looking for me.

Well, whatever he's up to,
he won't find me.

You worry too much, Joseph.

Yeah, I worry too much,
'cause you only planned the fire

and locked your old man
and old lady in the bedroom.

I poured the gasoline.
I lit the rags.

And I thank you.

The happiest day of my whole,
inglorious childhood.

All right, you want to kid about it?
It's all right with me.

I'm gonna
track this guy down.

And then what?

This.

You'll never change,
will you?

You got no cause
for complaint.

When you needed me,
I was always there, wasn't I?

Look, put that thing away.

And listen to me.

I want you to go back to Barlow Creek.
Do nothing. Say nothing.

Let me look into this matter
in my own, quiet way.

And if I need you for anything,
I'll contact you.

Okay?

You're the boss, Arthur.

Isn't it touching
how a perfect murder

has kept our friendship
alive all these years?

You better believe it.

I'm sorry to disturb you,
Mr. Adamson.

There are two gentlemen here to see you
from the police department.

Tell them
I'll be right out.

Jesus Christ, Eddie!

Wait here.

Arthur Adamson.
What can I do for you gentlemen?

Sorry to bother you,
Mr. Adamson.

Andy Bush,
Bureau of Inspectors,

and this is
Lieutenant Peterson.

- Hi.
- My pleasure.

No doubt you've been
reading or hearing

about the
Constantine kidnapping.

Well, I have a confession
to make, Inspector.

When I heard of the size of
that stone, my mouth watered.

Professionally speaking,
of course.

Well, just so you don't feel
discriminated against, Mr. Adamson,

we're routinely covering every gem dealer
and jewelry store in the city.

Well, I'm flattered.

Have you,
by any chance,

noticed anything out of the ordinary,
Mr. Adamson?

Any unusual movement
of large or small stones

into the markets
these last few days?

Absolutely not.

I see.

I take it then that you're going
on the assumption

that this ransom stonehas been
cut up into smaller gems?

That's correct, sir.

It makes
a lot of sense.

We think so.

If I may presume to make
a suggestion, it seems to me

you gentlemen ought to be covering
the antique and secondhand jewelry markets.

They buy from anyone.

Whereas we jewelers buy exclusively
on the wholesale exchanges.

- That's already being done, Mr. Adamson.
- Oh.

I think we've taken up enough of
Mr. Adamson's time.

Well, I'm sorry I haven't been able
to be of more help to you, gentlemen.

However, if I do hear of any unusual
transactions in the marketplace,

I'll be sure
and contact you.

Yes, we'd appreciate that.
Much obliged.

Take care.

Goodbye, sir.

Good day.
And good luck.

Mrs. Clay, close up
as soon as you wish.

I have some work
to do in here,

and I'll let myself
out the back way.

- Good night.
- Good night.

Your friend, Blanche Tyler,
is a spiritualist.

A spiritualist?

That's what it says
on her shingle.

Also, there's no one home.

A spirit is never at home.
Get in.

What do you think
we should do?

We'll wait.

We still don't know
who the man is yet.

Yeah.

- Must you?
- Mmm-hmm.

That must be her.

That must be the fellow with the pipe
who called on Maloney.

A cab driver.

Lumley. Lumley, what's this?
Where are you going?

I'm going home to my own bed
where I can get some sleep.

No, you're not.

Blanche, is that all you've ever
got on your mind?

What are you saving it for,
a rainy day?

Hey, honey, you never know
when you're gonna need it.

You're not being
friendly, Lumley.

Blanche, I'm too pooped to pop.
I'd be useless to you.

You're always useless to me!

You're always pooping out when I need you most!

...so we can collect a huge sum of money.
You call that being useless?

You know what
I'm talking about.

Come on inside and
stop being difficult.

Not tonight, Josephine.
I'm out of here.

You're a fink!

If I'm a fink, honey,
you're an ungrateful bitch.

What about tomorrow?

What about it?

You've got important
work to do.

I want you to be sure
about Eddie Shoebridge.

See that you find him
and talk to him!

How many times are you going to
tell me that? Huh?

And how many times
am I gonna have to tell you

that tomorrow I have
to work in my cab?

So it'll wait
till Sunday.

You better give me a quick synopsis.
I'm confused.

Simple. A cab driver
is shacked up

with a sex-starved medium
named Blanche Tyler.

And don't ask me why,

but apparently, they're on the trail
of some spook named Eddie Shoebridge.

Fortunately, not on the trail
of your favorite kidnapper and mine.

How can you be so sure?

You did hear him talk about collecting
a huge hunk of money.

Couldn't that be
the reward that's on our heads?

You got yourself a point there,
Frances, old girl.

And only time will tell
whether it's any good.

One thing's certain.

We're not going to change
our game plan. Not now.

Buy me a drink, Arthur.

A shiny car.
A limousine?

Why does he drive
so fast, Henry?

What's that on the seat
beside him?

I hear the sound
of a baby crying.

Quick, Henry, before he disappears
from view, ask...

Yes, I know.

I see him now.

The uniform.
A chauffeur.

Words.
Henry, I need words.

Who? The what?

The Rainbird chauffeur?

Good heavens.
Old Michael O'Keefe, our chauffeur.

Where is Michael going?

Henry, ask him
where he's taking Harriet's baby.

Oh, more pictures are
coming in too fast.

I can hardly
make them out.

Henry, a graveyard,
a headstone?

I don't
like this, Henry.

A shoe. Bridge.

A shoe bridge?
Oh, don't do this to me, Henry.

Speak to the chauffeur.

Oh, God,
something's burning.

The house. Quick, Henry.
The house is on fire.

Well, take me
away from here.

I don't want
to see this.

I can't bear the sound
of their awful screaming.

Go back to
the chauffeur, Henry.

Get Michael
into our presence.

Miss Rainbird
remembers him.

Yes, I remember.

And, Madame Blanche,
listen to me.

Can you hear me?

I've remembered
something else

that could be
terribly important.

Wait one minute, Henry,
before you go.

Miss Rainbird deserves some kind
of assurance about Harriet's child.

He's a man by now,
and we have to know.

Is he happy, Henry?

Is he alive,
and well, and happy?

Well, if you can't,
you can't.

I certainly
can't force you.

Yes, of course
she'll understand.

Until next time then.
Goodbye.

Goodbye, my love.

What happened?

Don't you remember?

Not a blessed thing.

It doesn't matter now.

Listen, listen,
Madame Blanche.

Your Henry jogged my memory of something
I'd completely forgotten.

When our poor
old chauffeur, Mike,

realized that
he was dying,

he wrote to me and said there was
one person on Earth

who had promised
that he'd make it his business

to know where Harriet's son was
as long as he lived.

It was the parson
who baptized the newborn baby.

And there's an additional thing
I can tell you.

Don't tell me.
Let me guess.

500.

Not a penny.
Not even 100 for expenses.

It's all or nothing,
George,

until I can produce his name
and his present address.

Jesus, Blanche.

However, she gave me
a marvelous clue.

Here we go again.

No, here you go again.

To the man who might tell you
if Shoebridge is dead or alive.

Yeah, who's that?

Bishop Wood at
St. Anselm's Cathedral.

Holy Christ, Blanche.

No, George, not him.

Bishop Wood at
St. Anselm's Cathedral.

He was a parson once,
and he baptized the Shoebridge baby.

Excuse me.

Sorry.

Do you know how I could make
a date to see Bishop Wood?

If you want to make
the appointment today,

you'll have to make it
through the chaplain.

Which one is
the chaplain?

When the service is over,
I'll show you where to go.

Oh, dear.

The bishop,
where are they taking him?

I don't know.
Do you think he's sick?

You know he's moving.
You sure you gave him enough?

Just the usual dose.
He looks so harmless.

You know, when I was a little kid
living in that village,

he always made me feel
like I was something evil.

And look at me now.

Well, I feel
years younger.

You know, one more like this one today,
and we'll be naturally gray.

It was an incredible job.

You know, I really think
it's worth more than a million.

Well, I'm sorry, darling,
but I'm not going back

and rewrite my ransom note
that I left in my prayer book.

You'll have to be a good sport
and settle for a million.

You were beautiful, Fran.
Just beautiful.

I was scared.

I told you it'd be
all right, didn't I?

People in church
are inhibited.

They don't jump up, and run around,
and make a lot of noise.

They're all too
religiously polite.

Shall we go on
congratulating ourselves,

or would you like to
talk about him now?

Who?

"Who." The man
with the pipe.

So you saw him
there then, huh?

Larger than life.

Larger than death,
you mean.

There's no doubt about
who he's after now.

What were you planning
to do about him, dear,

besides just not
telling me?

I'm not planning to do
anything about him.

Joe Maloney's been itching
for that job. He's got it.

I'll phone him as soon as we put
our guest in his quarters.

I was right about that
silly cab driver.

For once in my life,
I hate being right.

Well, how in the hell could he have
known we were going to be there

when you and I are the only two people
in the world who knew that?

I've got a thought.
It's a dumb one.

Well, say it.

Do you believe in ESP,

extra sensory perception,
all that sort of psychic phenomena?

What do you mean?
Madame What's-Her-Name?

Blanche Tyler.

Jesus.

You and I know that
that's off the wall,

but can we afford
to be wrong?

I'm afraid our two
quarrelsome lovers

are going to have to
share a fatal accident.

Oh, my God.

But Maloney wouldn't be willing
to do that, would he?

Of course he'd be
willing. Gladly.

He'd believe he was protecting himself
and his old buddy.

Well, I don't want
to know about it. Okay?

Promise me, Arthur.

Come on, now, dear.

That's what's so exciting
about all of this.

We move as one. Everything together.
Nothing held back.

It was gross negligence,
losing him that way.

He was all we had.

I didn't lose him, Blanche.
He was kidnapped.

Why would anyone want to do that
to a bishop?

For the ransom, dummy.
It's a million dollars.

I can't get over it.
You know that I was right there.

Forget about the million.
What about our 10,000?

We've got nowhere
to go now, Lumley.

And what am I gonna
tell Miss Rainbird?

I suppose Henry and I are going to
have to exhaust ourselves again

doing your work for you.

What do you mean,
my work?

My work is driving a goddamn cab,
for Christ's sake.

And starting right this minute, that's exact...

That's exact what?
Go ahead.

Answer the telephone.

Hello? Who?

Mr. Maloney?
Barlow Creek? Go ahead.

Hello.

Can you speak a little louder,
Mr. Maloney?

I said I traced you through
the license plates on that car

your lawyer friend
was driving.

I figured if you was still looking
for some dope on Eddie Shoebridge,

- I might have something for you.
- Oh.

How come you changed
your mind, Mr. Maloney?

I didn't say nothing
to your man,

'cause I felt it was none of
my business and none of his,

but I been thinking about it,
and how I could use the bread.

So for a little
consideration,

I'm willing to
lead you to someone

who knows Eddie Shoebridge's wife.
It'll cost you a grand.

Oh, don't be silly,
Mr. Maloney.

I have my lawyer
right here beside me,

and he says
he'll give you $100

provided it leads
to something.

Make it two.

All right.
It's a deal.

Where do we meet?

You and that
lawyer friend of yours,

you drive up and meet me
at Abe & Mabel's in two hours.

Abe & Mabel's?

Yes, it's a cafe up the road
to Mt. Sherman,

about five miles up
off Route 22.

- You know where it is?
- Yeah. Why so far away?

Can't we meet somewhere
more convenient?

Well, this party I'm gonna take you
to happens to be up in that area.

I see.

Mr. Maloney, are you admitting
Edward Shoebridge is still alive?

I ain't saying a thing till
I see the color of your money.

In two hours.

What do you think?

Smells fishy to me.

I know.

But even fish smells good when
you're starving to death.

What do we have to lose?
He's the only clue left.

You got $200 on you?

You know me better than that.
Of course not.

Fix me
another one of these.

You don't need another one.
You already got one.

We only got two hours
to get there.

- I'll eat in the car.
- Come on.

You're impossible.

A couple of beers, please.

He must be late.

Thank you, dear.

You kids
sit over there.

Well, how was
Sunday school today?

Noisy.

Five Cokes, please.

We didn't make
any noise.

That's right.
That's why you're here.

Don't blame me.

Did I say anything?

Hello.
I'm sorry I'm late.

I'll get you a chair.

That's all right.
I'll sit over here.

I'll join you.

Look at that.
Nice arrangement.

Don't be obscene, George.

Oh.

Thank you, my dear.

Just see that you keep your head
screwed on straight, will you?

He's not coming.

Well, that's
the end of that.

George,
what's the big hurry?

Just slow down a little,
will you, please?

I told you not to drive
so fast, George!

I don't know what's wrong.
The accelerator seems to be sticking.

George, for God's sake,
slow up, will you?

I can't.

My hamburger's coming up.

The accelerator is stuck.

Use the brakes!

- They don't work.
- What?

The brakes don't work.

What do you mean?

No!

- George!
- Come on, woman.

Don't grab me,
for God's sake!

It's not me.
It's the brakes don't work.

I'm getting
violently ill, George.

You're choking me, Blanche,
for Christ's sake!

George! Do something!

Put your foot down.

Grab the brake!
Reach down and pull the hand brake.

- Pull on it!
- I am pulling!

Get your hands off the steering wheel.
Now, pull on it!

- I am pulling.
- Pull it.

Come on, Blanche.

Get your hand off
the goddamn wheel!

Get your
goddamn foot down!

Need to see to...

I gotta get off
this road.

Blanche,
just hang on, baby.

Wasn't that fun?

Damn you,
George Lumley!

What's the matter
with you?

It wasn't me.
It's Maloney.

He wasn't driving!

Of course,
he wasn't driving,

but he screwed up the car
and broke the brakes.

- Maloney?
- Yes.

What? Do you think
it's a coincidence, Blanche? Huh?

Your car is gonna be out of commission,
looks like, for a couple days.

So let's go find us
another way to get home.

George.
Are you all right?

I think so.
How about you?

I'm okay.

I'm sorry.

- Do you really think Maloney wanted us dead?
- Mmm-hmm.

But why in the name of God would
anyone want to do that to us?

I don't know, but you can bet it
has something to do

with your mysterious friend,
Eddie Shoebridge.

Maloney's probably got him buried
in his backyard.

Doesn't want us
to find out.

That way.

Hi there.
Sorry I'm late.

Congratulations on the nice job
you did on our car, Maloney.

What are you two doing standing
in the middle of the road?

You know perfectly well
what we're doing on the road, Maloney.

You must be Blanche Tyler.
Pleased to meet you.

Where's your car?

Let's just say it ain't exactly
in running order. You know what I mean?

Well, hop in. I'll give you a lift
to the nearest station.

No, thank you.
We don't ride in hearses.

What do you think I came up here for,
the fun of it?

And you want me to take you to this party
that knows Eddie Shoebridge's wife?

Why don't you just go ahead
by yourself this time, Maloney?

We'll skip it.

He's all charm.

Who's that?

That's Maloney.
He's after us.

Come on.

Hey, guys,
let's get the hell out of here.

We better get the police.

And lose our $10,000?

May I be of some help
to you, madam?

I'd like to see
some bracelets.

Any particular kind?

Do you have anything with turquoise
or perhaps pearls?

Yes, please be seated.

Anything wrong
with our houseguest?

He's fine.

I gave him a very nice lunch
and a fresh bottle of wine.

Maybe one of these
will appeal to you?

Are those seed pearls?

That's right.

What are you
doing here?

These look like
freshwater pearls.

The message has
come through on KFAG.

They've located
the stone we asked for.

In New York.
Harry Winston. 53 carats.

These are very nice.
How much are they?

$315, including tax.

When do we make
the pickup?

Tomorrow night, 9:30.

Good. Now go on home.

Would it be possible
for you to set these aside

so that I can bring in my husband,
and he can look at them?

Of course, madam.

Now for the bad news.

Take a look at this.

Incompetent bastard.
He blew it.

Now we'll have to eliminate
these two ourselves.

Ourselves?

That's right.

Tomorrow night,
right after we return our guest.

- Oh, I can't.
- You must.

Remember, share
and share alike.

You stop it! Stop it!

Did you decide
on this one?

Yeah, that'll be fine.

- I'll have it wrapped for you.
- Thank you.

But it was more than that,
much more than that,

that you left behind
as your precious gift to life.

Yes, Joseph Maloney,
you were a generous man.

You gave of your
heart and soul.

You gave the very best
that was in you,

and no more than that can be asked of
mortal man on this Earth.

You loved
your wife dearly.

You bestowed upon your
dear mother and father

all the care,
all the attention,

patience and comfort that they needed
in the sunset of their lives.

And those of us who are left
behind to grieve for you, Joseph,

can only bow to
the divine judgment of our Lord

who has chosen to take you away
from us in this cruel accident.

Oh, how great
the holiness of our God!

For He knoweth all things,

and there is not
anything save He knows it.

And He cometh
into the world

that He may save all men
if they will harken unto His voice.

For behold, He suffereth
the pains of all men,

yea, the pains of
every living creature,

both men, women,
and children,

who belong to
the family of Adam.

And he suffereth this that the resurrection
might pass upon all men,

that all might stand before him
at the great and judgment day.

Can't you
leave me alone?

Isn't it enough
that you killed him?

No, that's not so,
Mrs. Maloney.

It was the other way.

You. You started
it all coming here

and messing in things
that were none of your business.

Now go away. Please!

Mrs. Maloney,
I have to talk to you.

He's dead and buried.
There's nothing to talk about.

Why didn't he want me looking
for Eddie Shoebridge?

I am not listening to you.
Get away from me!

Mrs. Maloney,
your husband tried to kill me,

and you were in on it,
weren't you?

No.

Well, then why are you always running away
from me? Is that why?

No.

Do you realize that you are
an accessory to an attempted murder?

I had nothing to do with that.
I don't know what you...

Perhaps the police would think
that you did have something to do with it.

You want me to go to
the police about it?

For God's sake.
You wouldn't do that.

Look, just tell me.
Where is Eddie Shoebridge?

I can't.

Mrs. Maloney, where is he?
Please tell me.

There is no
Eddie Shoebridge.

He went up in smoke 25 years ago
and came down in the city.

He calls himself
Arthur Adamson.

Arthur Adamson?

If he finds out I told you,
he'll kill me.

Now, go away and don't ever
come near me again.

Fake! Fake!

Well, wait a second now.
You're the one that's exaggerating.

No, no, now, I'll give you two
or three days maybe I missed,

but never
more than that.

Tell him
it's deeply important.

Go on. Stand up.

Why me? What makes you think that it's me
that ran up all the extra mileage?

What about that
little asshole Herbie,

or Al, the one
on the day shift?

I understand.
I'll be there.

Yes, I promise
I'll be there.

The answer's no.

He says I must work the shift,
and I must work it tonight.

And do me a favor,
Blanche.

Please don't give me
a hard time.

You didn't put up
much of a fight.

Hey, honey, look, after all the goofing
off I've been doing on your behalf,

I'm within a gnat's eyelash
of losing my cab

and getting kicked
right out of the company.

Lumley, you're thick!
You won't have to drive a cab

if we can get this thing over
and done with and collect the money.

If, darling, if.
You're always giving me ifs.

I can't eat ifs
and neither can you

while Julia Rainbird and you are
waltzing around in the great beyond.

I mean,
come on, sweetheart.

The least I can do is show up
or work every now and then.

After all, didn't I give you
the guy's name?

Yeah, but the phone book is full
of Arthur Adamsons. Look at them.

It's very simple. All you need
to do is find out the right one.

It's a snap. The one
that's close to 40 years old

and trembles a little bit
at the name Eddie Shoebridge.

Easy.
We do that tomorrow.

Now would be much better.

A bird in the hand, Lumley.
Please.

Sweetheart, the only bird
that's gonna be in my hand,

and I'm very sorry
to say this,

is a steering wheel
from 4:00 to midnight.

Sure.
Why should I get a kiss?

Just when I was beginning to think
you weren't impossible.

Maybe I'll do it
without you.

The hell you will!

Come on, now, Blanche.
Please.

This Shoebridge fellow's gone to
a lot of trouble not to be found.

Now you got no idea what kind of trouble
you could get into.

Yeah, well, whatever it is,
he'll forget about it

when he hears about the millions
he's coming into.

Blanche, come on. Just sit down
on your pretty little behind.

And I must say,
it is quite an...

No, it is.
Very attractive little behind.

And just wait
for me, okay?

And tonight when
I get home, we will...

Right. Very nice. Plot our strategy.
Know what I mean, darling?

Who needs him?

You wouldn't be
Arthur Adamson, would you?

Excuse me.

Excuse me!

Hello.
Are you Arthur Adamson?

Hey, Art!

Yeah?

A.A.?

I'm sorry.
We're just closing.

I understand. I'm not shopping.
Is Mr. Adamson around?

No, I'm afraid not.
But if you come back tomorrow...

All right. But just to be sure
I have the right Mr. Adamson,

he is a gentleman
of about 40, I trust?

Yes, that's about right.

Oh, that's the first encouraging news
I've had all afternoon.

Now isn't there someplace
I might reach him without delay?

- You mean tonight?
- Yes.

Well, he usually goes
directly home from here.

But tonight would be very bad,
because I believe he's giving a party.

I know he left unusually early
for some such reason.

Isn't there something I can tell him
for you in the morning?

This is personal,
rather personal.

Oh, I see.

Perhaps you'd like
to leave him a note.

A note? Very good.

Yes. Come this way.

Excuse me.

Thank you.

Is anything the matter?

I was just thinking.
Instead of leaving this note here,

it might be better if I sent
Mr. Adamson a telegram tonight.

What's his address,
please?

Well, I don't...

It's all right.
We're friends.

- 1001 Franklin Street.
- 1001 Franklin.

Thank you very much.
You've been very kind.

You're a Capricorn,
aren't you?

No, I'm a Leo.

That's what I thought.

Pete, hi.

Hello, there,
Blanche, baby.

Have you seen George?

Yeah, he just left a few minutes ago,
but he'll be back.

- Took a party of four out to River Valley.
- River Valley?

Oh, dear.
That could take all night.

Easily. What's up?

- Would you give him a message for me?
- Sure thing.

Just tell him
I found him.

You found him?

That's right.
He lives at 1001 Franklin.

1001 Franklin.

That's where he lives,
and that's where I'm going now.

You found him,
and that's where he lives,

and that's where
you're going now.

- Thanks, Pete.
- Any time, Blanche.

You wanna go over
the new pickup spot once again?

I know it by heart.

Are you all right?

I will be.

You sure?

Have to be there at 9:30.
Let's get going.

Bishop Wood,
it's time to go.

Have you your
vestments on?

Yes, but I haven't
finished the chicken.

Oh, I'm sorry,
Your Excellency.

Now, here's what
I want you to do.

Place the armchair in the center of the room,
facing away from the door,

and seat yourself in it.

You're going to be
comfortably put to sleep.

But it'll last only
for a short while.

Thank you very much.
You are most considerate.

Let me know
when you're ready.

By the way, I haven't quite
finished that book

you were kind enough
to let me have.

May I take it along?

With our fingerprints on it?
Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Nice try,
Your Excellency.

Thank you. Don't bother then.
I'm ready.

All right, I'll be turning
your light off now.

We mustn't be late.
See who it is and be careful.

It's her.
That woman, Blanche Tyler.

This is incredible!

Is that
cab driver with her?

She's alone.

If I didn't have to make
this pickup in 35 minutes...

Well, what are we
going to do?

Nothing!

Until later tonight.

She's gone.

Come on.
Let's go.

Hurry, hurry, hurry!

- I thought you said...
- I know.

Mr. Adamson?

Watch him.

Oh, Mr. Adamson. How lucky I am not
to have missed you.

Apparently, you didn't
hear me at the front door.

Apparently.

I am Madame Blanche Tyler,
the spiritualist.

Good evening, honey.

Madame Blanche, I wonder
if I might suggest you

to remove your car
from our driveway.

You see, we're terribly late
for an appointment.

Yes, when you hear why
I've come, Mr. Adamson.

Or should I say Shoebridge?

You won't mind
being late at all.

My dear lady, I know exactly
why you've come here.

How could you?

And exactly why you and your friend,
that cab driver...

You know George?

...have been
sniffing along my trail

like two little eager bloodhounds
these past few weeks.

I had no idea,
Mr. Adamson.

Well, all right,
Madame Blanche, you found me.

Music to my ears.

And I'm perfectly willing to listen
to your demands, whatever they might be,

but not right now.

No demands, Mr. Adamson.
No, no, no! Hardly that.

Julia Rainbird
wants nothing from you

but the privilege
of making you heir

to the entire
Rainbird fortune.

The whole, lovely
millions and millions of it.

Now if she made any demands at all,
they were on me to find you.

Through psychic means,
of course.

Let me
get this straight.

Is that the only reason
you and your friend

have been, shall we say,
investigating me?

Oh, yes, and don't think
it's been easy.

Oh, Mr. Adamson, you've given George
and me the devil's own time of it.

Tracing you from
a foundling baby

to a young boy named Shoebridge
to a man named Adamson.

Oh, but, Mr. Adamson,
here you are. Here I am.

It's a happy moment
for us all, isn't it?

It's the bishop.

Does anyone know
that you've come here?

No one, no.

Anyone? No, no.

No. Not a soul.

Not even George, so...

You have nothing to worry about,
Mr. Adamson.

I promise.

I won't breathe
a word to anyone.

It looks like Miss Tyler
needs some rest.

Will you do as I say?

No. No.

Unlock the door.

Cheer up, Fran.

Let's go get the new diamond
for our chandelier.

Wow.

It's gorgeous.

And now for
Madame Blanche.

Oh, my God.

Blanche?

Blanche?

Blanche?

If I'm
talking too much,

perhaps it's because
you're not talking at all.

It's my stomach, Arthur.

Murder doesn't
agree with it.

You think
I'm looking forward to it?

If Joe Maloney had been more efficient,
they'd both be dead by now.

You can have
my share, Arthur.

You can keep both diamonds
all to yourself if you'll just end it.

I'll tell you
what I'll do.

If you help me
carry Sleeping Beauty

up out of the cellar
and load her into our car,

and drive her out
to some deserted road

where a suicide
can take place,

I promise you we'll talk
this thing over. Okay?

What about
the cab driver?

Well, if she was able to find us,
I'm sure he can, too.

He'll walk
right into our hands.

Your hands, Arthur,
not mine.

Don't you think we ought to go down
and take a look at her?

It's been a while
since we gave her that shot.

- You do it.
- Okay.

You'll be happy to know
she's still unconscious.

Blanche.

Shh!

I'll put this end
in her exhaust pipe

and the other end
in the window.

That way,
it'll look like suicide.

Better go
and get her now.

I'll take her in our car.
You follow in hers.

You take hold
of her feet.

Jesus, she's heavy.

George!

Got them.

Blanche, you faked
that one beautifully.

You are still the champ.

Thank you, George.

Do you realize how much
the reward is for those two?

Yes. But do you realize
how much more the reward would be

if we could find the diamonds
and turn them in?

What's the matter
with you?

Blanche,
what's the matter?

Blanche,
what's the matter?

What is it?

Blanche, you did it!
You are psychic!

What am I doing here
on the stairs?

You're not a fake.
You actually found one. Look.

I did?

Now, I'll get the police on the phone
and give them our good news,

and call Miss Rainbird
and give her the bad.

Operator,
can I have the police?