Kolchak: The Night Stalker (1974–1975): Season 1, Episode 2 - The Zombie - full transcript

Popular folklore would
have us believe...

that there exists
in the underworld...

ruthless men who fear nothing.

This story
should debunk that myth.

August 14, 2:00 a.m.

While the upper strata
of the syndicate...

were accustomed
to dealing in millions,

the foundation of their fortune
was here in their countinghouses,

in the small change
of the numbers racket.

Mr. Albert Berg,
head collections man.

A graduate of an Ivy League
business school,



he was an incompetent, even
by syndicate standards.

The only smart thing he'd ever
done was marry the boss's sister.

Willie Pike... he had never been
convicted of anything by anybody...

except the boxing commission.

Willie took a dive
into the canvas...

and on through into
the bulletproof car set.

Willie was making a bundle, a
bundle he would never get to spend.

2:30 a.m. Willie Pike,

onetime heavyweight contender,

now just one heavy pile
of lifeless junk.

According to the police, Willie
had died from severe blows.

A gangland killing...
No suspects, no leads.

So, what else was new?

I got into the office before
the other idiots arrived...



and banged off my story and
thought I'd heard the last of it.

- Ohh! It shouldn't have been there.
- What did... What?

No food or beverages
in this office.

All right. It's okay. Don't
worry about it. Uh, no!

I'll clean it up myself. It's
all right. Just leave it as it is.

Here. Will you just do me a favor,
please, and take this in to Mr. Vincenzo.

Pretty please?

Good morning, Carl. Did you get
those extra pencils you wanted?

- Oh, yeah.
- Listen, I read your Willie Pike story.

Oh, well, you must have taken
up speed-reading. I just typed it.

- It's very good. Really.
- Oh? You've got it upside down.

- Oh.
- What do you want of me?

I'm starving.
Let's go down to Manny's,

grab a cup of coffee
and a piece of Danish.

The last time you invited
me out for coffee and Danish,

I ended up in Sioux Falls, Iowa,
covering a hardware convention.

- And the time before that...
- Well, listen.

Can't a man take a coworker
to coffee without being suspect?

Coworker? The last time
you called me a coworker,

I spent three days
rewriting the obituaries,

because Charlie Creach
was out on one of his benders!

Coworker? I had no
coworker! I was the coworker!

- This is big, really big.
- Y-Y-Yeah. Yeah, right up to here.

A police raid.
TAC squad units.

- Syndicate burial ground.
- When?

Sometime today. You'll be the first
one there. It'll be an exclusive, Carl.

- Syndicate?
- Yep.

- Exclusive?
- Yep.

What's the catch?

- No. Abs... No, no. No way.
- Now-Now-Now, hear me out. Hear me out now.

We've been very unfair
to Miss Marmelstein.

- I... - She's very
bright and very capable.

And I think she has the
makings of a fine reporter!

No! I work alone!
That...

What? Listen. Vincenzo!

Now, listen. Listen.
Don't you understand?

Her uncle is...

Is Abe Marmelstein, the big
muck in I.N.S. in New York.

- Yeah.
- Wh-Who I have to answer to.

- Yeah, but I don't!
- Yeah, but you have to answer to me!

Listen, keeping Monique
assigned to recipe columns,

keeping her tied up filing...
That's wrong, very wrong.

She wasn't hired as a secretary.
She could be a journalist, Carl,

- a very good journalist with your help.
- W-With my help?

Yes. I think you and Monique
would get along very well.

I have a feeling there's a
similarity between the both of you.

She has the same kind of
savvy, the same kind of drive!

Well, I'll agree with you on
one thing. She's got a lot of drive.

Now, it's your byline, Carl, all
the way. She's only there to learn.

- Absolutely not.
- You won't hear a word out of her!

- She'll listen to every word you say.
- No!

Absolutely, infinitely,
definitely no!

I don't care what
anybody else thinks.

Listen. I know the malicious talk
that's goin' on in the office about me.

I mean, "nespotism"
has nothing to do with it.

- What?
- "Nesitism."

- Nepotism.
- Oh, that's right!

Uncle Abe didn't go to the
Columbia School of Journalism. I did.

I'm fully trained, and I'm fully
qualified. All I need now is a chance.

I'm glad you brought that up. Things
may get a little rough this afternoon.

- Rough?
- Rough. Yeah. Maybe even dangerous.

James and Perry Russo.

I'm ordering you
to surrender at once.

We have you
completely surrounded.

Time, 4:20.

The apple farm and cider works
owned by James and Perry Russo.

James and Perry Russo, I'm
warning you to surrender at once.

Open fire! All units!

Captain Leo Winwood and I...

had a relationship
that was long and bloody,

like the Crusades,
only without the chivalry.

Get down!

Get down! You'll get
your head blown off!

What...

Get that stupid female
out of here!

- No, wait. I got an idea.
- What?

- Yeah, well, I'll tell you what you do.
- What?

They're gonna come running back on
this side here, and you can get the shot.

- Oh, yeah? Really?
- Yeah!

Yeah, yeah. You get inside
there. You'll get some pictures.

Oh, oh, oh. Okay. Okay.

What kind of a crazy stunt were you
trying to pull with that dame, Kolchak?

I had never met her
before in my life.

You'd stop a bullet with that
cabbage blossom you call a head.

- Don't expect to ride in one of our ambulances.
- Yes, sir!

Then came the part...

that makes the news
what it is today,

getting pictures of the bodies.

Sorry, gentlemen, but
this barn is off-limits!

There'll be no pictures taken!

- Clear this area!
- Clear the area!

- A few words, sir.
- Clear the area!

There'll be no pictures taken!

- Clear this area!
- Clear the area!

Since I wasn't allowed
in the barn,

I thought I'd have a
chat with Gordon Spangler,

also known
as "Gordy the Ghoul."

An enterprising fellow
who tends the morgue,

Gordy has struck gold
in the land of the dead.

He runs a lottery based
on the birth years...

of the corpses
he was hired to watch over.

Charming.

- I'll take two.
- Any particular numbers...

- Whatever. Just let's get this nonsense over with.
- Okay.

- What can I do for you?
- You got the Russo brothers in here yet?

Oh, yeah. They're here
all right, nice and snug.

Oh, but I couldn't comment on
that. Why, I'd get in big trouble.

Why, I wouldn't make a peep
about that, not even for 20 bills.

There's a wall around them.
I've been iced out of it.

But, Dr. Wedemyer sent
for this during the autopsies.

Willie Pike,
ex-boxer, ex-numbers dude.

They brought him in
two nights ago.

Yeah, yeah. I remember.
I wrote about it.

- He died from severe blows, didn't he?
- Mm-hmm.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.
They call that severe blows?

There's another thing, Kolchak.

- Real weird.
- Oh, come on, Gordy. Look, I'm broke!

- Okay, okay.
- This is a freebie.

But you got to help me schlep
this guy. He weighs a ton.

They brought him in
with the Russos.

Now, here's the weird part,
Kolchak.

- This black guy we're gonna schlep?
- Yeah?

We had him in here last week.

Wait! What do you mean, you
had him in here last week? Dead?

Uh-huh. As dead as six .44
Magnum slugs can make ya.

But I never saw those slugs
draw chicken blood before.

And that's what that guy
had in his ears.

- Chicken blood?
- County Morgue. Spangler.

Oh, hold on. It's for you.

- Ch-Chicken blood?
- That's right.

Listen, Kolchak. Monique
is gonna call her Uncle Abe.

- Abe "The Smiling Cobra."
- In his ear?

- That's right.
- What are you talking about?

- What happened?
- They buried him.

- Buried him.
- Bury who? Abe Marmelstein?

If she gets to him, he's gonna
come down on me like a ton of...

- Chicken blood.
- Whatever.

- Then I'm gonna come down on you.
- Why?

- That's management.
- I don't know.

- You're gonna have to apologize to her.
- Can you help me?

Yeah, I think I can convince her to
come to the phone. Now, you hang on.

- Help you?
- Yeah, you know, the what, where, who, how and why.

Well, yeah. I guess so...
for a fee.

For a fee. Terrific.
Terrific. Yeah, hello. Hello?

Everything's gonna be all right.
He's gonna apologize to you.

Hello?

- I'm listening.

Hello. Hello!

I'll kill him!

9:00 a.m., August 16.

The official police briefing...

As foolish a game as any that
"Gordy the Ghoul" could make up.

And so, uh, you see
we had no alternative...

- but to return a lethal barrage of weapons fire.
- Uh, sir.

- Sir, Kolchak, I.N.S.
- Sit down, Kolchak.

Yes, sir. Rumor has it that Willie
Pike did not die from severe blows...

but died
by having his spine snapped.

There's another rumor that says that
the Russo brothers died the same way.

Now, what about it?

Now, in terms of the corpses
buried on the Russo farm,

we have uncovered six.

We believe that there may be as many
as 15 or 20 more yet to be uncovered.

Uh, sir, you haven't
answered my question, sir.

You know, Kolchak, these
meetings are held as a courtesy.

At my discretion, certain members
of the press could be denied access.

Well, I wouldn't miss very
much, sir. For example,

I didn't hear one word
mentioned in your report...

of a third body found
in the Russo brothers' barn.

- A black man. That's right, sister.
- Well.

For once, Mr. Kolchak is
not stating rumor, but fact.

A third body wasfound...

Negro, male,
as yet unidentified.

- Sir?
- Good day.

Sir, that black guy's spine
wasn't snapped. He was shot.

But not by the police,
unless they're using .44s.

Who was he, and what
was he doing in that barn, sir?

Sir?

Go on. Get your own
story, will you?

A phone call to "Gordy
the Ghoul" informed me...

that the black man in question
was being buried at city expense.

I should let him rest in peace.

Hi there. Carl Kolchak,
Independent News Service.

Uh, is that grave over there
for the body from the morgue?

- Tell me about it.
- Who are they burying?

They want union trouble, I
could blow the lid right off.

You know, it's against the law to
put two parties in the same plot,

unless it's a family plot.

- Two parties?
- They buried a party there last week.

They're stacking 'em like they
would be in a high-rise to save money.

Oh, what a mess to come back to
after I've been out sick with the flu.

Yeah.

- Take care.
- Yes, sir.

Looks like we're
the only mourners here.

Kolchak, you keep a lot of people
away from their jobs by your nosin' around.

Tell me, why is a gold-button
captain of the city's finest...

attending the burial
of a black pauper?

And who is this black pauper that
was buried in this cemetery last week,

ended up in the Russos'
burial ground yesterday...

and then finally ends up
in this cemetery today?

Kolchak,
now you get out of here.

Or let me put it another way...

If you continue to butt into this
situation, you're gonna find yourself...

pounding on your typewriter
with casts up to your shoulders.

You gonna break my arms,
Captain?

Now, would I wanna do a
thing like that to you, Kolchak?

Just ask yourself.

- Thirty-one it is.
- Oh, whatever.

Let's just get this stupid
game over with. Tell me!

Well, the black guy's a Haitian,
up-and-comer in the numbers.

Got it about a week,
uh, 10 days ago...

- .44-caliber Magnums.
- Yeah, the caliber I know all about.

Oh, yeah. I forgot.
You got that for free.

Well, his name is Francois Edmonds.
Syndicate hit by the looks of it.

- Why the syndicate?
- The Russos probably figured...

that Edmonds swallowed
some heavy receipts.

- It happens all the time when bookies get panicked.
- Oh, Gordy.

It's happened to me a
couple of times. It tastes awful.

Now, maybe they dug him up, took him
to the barn for some exploratory surgery.

After the autopsy? That
doesn't make any sense, Gordy.

No. But there's been a lot of
flak in the past few months...

between the black numbers
operators and the syndicate,

according to my
usually reliable sources.

Black numbers operators?

South Side?

I tried placing a numbers
bet on the South Side,

but none of the bookies
would even touch me.

The few bookies
who would talk...

said that since I was a former
Francois Edmonds's customer,

I'd need something called
"a lucky number."

Finally, I got an address.

Yes? I'm Uncle Filemon.

What you want
the houngando for you?

I'd like... I'd like a
lucky... a lucky number.

A lucky number
costs $11 in advance.

Dollars in advance... You wouldn't be
related to, uh... No, no, of course not.

- Now, what you dream last night?
- I beg your pardon?

Come on, mon.
Tell me what you dream.

So I can pour in these bones and
the corn and figure out the number.

Oh, oh! I see.
Yeah, I see. Yeah.

Well, I... I had a dream last
night about a friend of mine.

Uh, Francois "Edmond."

This must have been very, very
bad dream. Your friend is dead.

Yeah, I...

Oh.
What do you use those for?

Dinner.

- Delicious with black beans and rice.
- Oh, yes.

Uh...

- Hey, you don't got your number!
- My, aren't these, uh,

dolls interesting, aren't they?

You go right on ahead and
wait on these gentlemen here.

I'm just, uh,
browsing, that's all.

Now, wait... We're getting a little
tangled up here, fellas. If you can just...

Okay. Now, can I have my...

You know who I am, Mr. Kolchak?

Bernard "Sweetstick" Weldon.

You once described me
in an article as being...

"the duke of the South Side
numbers fiefdom...

and all-around civic
headache."

- You remember now?
- No, that...

You know, that's a mistake. No,
that's my brother, uh, MarshallKolchak.

Yeah, he's the one
with the big mouth.

Poppy and some of the other boys say you
been tryin' to place a numbers bet all day,

but they say you're more
interested innames than numbers.

Like Francois Edmonds.

Public don't wanna read about a
young man cut down in his prime.

Well, yes, I couldn't agree
with you more, actually.

That's exactlywhat
I told my editor.

I didn't wanna come here
and pry around.

I mean, he's dead, isn't he?
I mean, Francois is...

- Is dead.
- He's dead.

And the story's dead.

Understand?

Uh, yeah.
I think I see your point.

Could I ask you
just one question?

Uh, did you know
the deceased personally?

Poppy, you're gonna have to
blow the wax out of this man's ears.

- He don't understand when people talkin' to him.
- No, no, no.

I understand.
I really don't...

I may understand...

Bad as my problems were
at that moment,

they were nothing compared
to those of Mr. Albert Berg.

When news of Al Berg's
death hit the streets,

a summit meeting was called...

between the big powers
in the numbers operation.

That's when I decided
to pay a visit to the Monk.

The Monk was of a lower order.

He had never taken the
vows of poverty or silence.

That high up, huh?

Yeah. Well, do you happen to
know where the meeting would be?

You mean, the Midtown Garage
needs repainting again, huh?

Yeah.
Well, here you go.

Go buy yourself a new
pair of sandals, will you?

The Midtown Garage...

A week before, it had been
closed for renovations,

a week before that for rewiring and
before that reroofing and new plumbing.

It was amazing to me that despite
these constant improvements...

by the owner, Benjamin Sposato,

none of its original,
quaint charm had been lost.

At 8:21, the great
purple bird arrived.

Ain't you got no air-conditioning
down here? This place stinks.

Why don't you make it fast?

I got to be at my granddaughter's
ballet recital by 9:00.

You think some of my boys
been rippin' off some of yours?

- That's right, Licorice Stick.
- Sweetstick.

Whatever. Seems some of my friends
have been coming down with back problems.

My organization had nothing
to do...

With Willie Pike being
wasted or the Russo brothers.

How about my brother-in-law Al Berg?
You know, Al and I were very close.

In fact, my sister's still
under the doctor's care.

You want a war, Mr. S.?
Is that what you want?

Hey, I'm not the one that's goin' around
killin' people... bending them in half.

Jerry here was at that
countinghouse when that guy walked in.

He was a coconut.

One of these days, Mr. S., some
coconuts are gonna fall on your head.

And it's gonna hurt.

Well, let me tell you what's
gonna happen. Number one,

one more of
my people gets knocked off,

there's gonna be coconut
milk all over this place.

Number two, I want reparations
for the Russo brothers,

for Willie Pike,
for my brother-in-law!

A quarter of all your numbers
operation for the next fiscal year.

Junk, you keep. I don't
wanna bother with that stuff.

- A quarter?
- That's right.

I wouldn't bet my granddaughter's
ballet slippers on that...

if I was you, Mr. S.

Okay. Okay.

I, uh... I'm comin'
right with you. It's okay.

It's, uh... D-D-Don't... Don't
get nervous, okay? Okay?

It's Kolchak.

- What's a Kolchak?
- He's a reporter.

That's right, Mr. Sposato,
a reporter, I.N.S.

What's an I.N.S.?

Independent News Service.
Founded in 1904 by Enrico Paluzzi.

I-I think... Well, I'm surethat you
must've met my managing editor,

at a meeting
of the Sons of Garibaldi?

This place stinks.

Make it fast.

I got to be at my
granddaughter's ballet recital...

I suppose you're wondering
what I'm... I'm doing here.

- Well, uh, I think,
Mr. Spinoza... - Sposato.

Sposato. Of course, sir.

I remember you.

Vittorio, this is the guy that crashed my
daughter Barbara's wedding, remember?

Hhcur.

- You... He's right.
- No! No!

No, there's been
a horrible mistake.

You see, you're thinking of
my brother, SidneyKolchak.

He writes a society column.

I remember
the two-dollar hat, Kolchak.

I got a memory like a steel trap. I
never forget anything. Ask Victor.

- That's right. Photographic.
- Mr. Kolchak.

- You ever been to Mercy General Hospital?
- No. No, I never have.

They got a great gastrointestinal
man, one of the best in the Midwest.

Doctore Rosetti.

Vittorio, why don't you make
an appointment for Mr. Kolchak...

with Dr. Rosetti?

No! No, no, no.
Wait! Wait!

Wait! I-I-I-I can tell you who's
been knocking your men off!

- I-I know! I can give you a name.
- What?

He's a Haitian numbers runner
by the name of Francois Edmonds.

- Why?
- I don't know! What do I know why?

Gee, maybe he got, uh...
Maybe he got in Willie Pike's hair?

Pike sent him through the system. He
got knocked off by the Russo brothers.

I don't know. Maybe?

- Santa Lucia.
- He's right.

Well, Mr. Kolchak,
you're partially correct.

You see, that guy now lays
in, uh, St. Lucy's Cemetery.

- It was a very nice try.
- No, that's where they keep putting him.

But I'll bet my life... and I'm not
saying that loosely, gentlemen...

I will bet my life...

that he is not...
there... now.

Come on! Keep digging!

Hey! You guys scabs?

Night work is against the bylaws of
the Funerary Workers Association.

All right. Come on. Open it, will ya?

What kind of people
are these people?

Your theory is that anybody
connected with this guy's death...

is... gonna die.

Yeah, that's right. By having
their spinal cords crushed.

Hey, Victor...

You gave the okay
on this thing, didn't you?

Yeah, but I asked you first.

I told you Willie Pike wanted it
done. You said go ahead. Remember?

I don't remember that.
Victor, you never...

- You never asked me about this!
- Sure, I did. It was rainin'.

You were complaining about the guy who
did the job on the roof. 'Cause it leaked.

You had this expensive pot.
It was leakin' in the pot.

You were teed off that day anyway.
And when I told you about Edmonds,

you said go ahead, waste him.

- I remember.
- I don't remember that, Victor.

- That never happened.
- You gotta remember.

- I said I don't remember!
- You...

Hey...

It's him.
It's that guy.

Do somethin'!
Stop him!

Come in!

What'd he do? Please
don't tell me the details.

Just what did he do?

Grave desecration, one count.

Oh! Mamma mia!

Suspected theft of corpse.

And that involves several
health law violations.

The most serious problem
is a homicide.

We found Kolchak an arm's
length away from a fresh corpse,

Victor Friese.

What did you do to the guy?
Pester him to death?

Kolchak, what's going on?

Talk.
Say something sensible!

He'll put me in jail for a
year if I open my mouth.

Tell him.

I saw Victor Friese get his
back snapped. I heard it crunch.

And the man that did it
was dead. Dead!

And had been dead
for over two weeks.

Well, I envy him. At least
he's getting some sleep!

How do you know that this
individual was dead, Kolchak?

Did you smell formaldehyde
on his breath?

He wasn't breathing!

You were there. We both
saw him put into his grave.

We saw the casket lowered into the
grave. We didn't see if Edmonds was in it.

Now, we think the body
was exhumed by some cult.

However, I didn't want to
speculate as to the purpose.

After all, these are Haitians.
They're people from a foreign country.

That's right. Especially Francois
Edmonds. He, sir, is from hell itself!

And how is this stiff walking,
Kolchak? How is he doing it?

Who's pulling the strings?

I don't know exactly, but I've
been doing some research.

It's voodoo. Francois Edmonds
has been turned into a zombie.

Now, the process
that activates him...

has something to do with
chicken blood and corn kernels.

Get him out of here.

Enough for one night, Carl.
Let's get outta here. Enough!

August 20, 2:00 a.m.
Another trip to the Monk.

Immigration listed no known
relatives for Francois Edmonds.

But the Monk had his own listings.
They included one Marie Juliette Edmonds.

Also known as Mama Lois or...
Mamalois.

Mornin', gents.
How ya doin'?

Come in, Mr. Kolchak.

You have rum
with lonely ol' woman?

- Mm-hmm.
- Light or dark?

Well, uh, dark, light... It's
all right... Mrs. Edmonds.

Calm yourself, Mr. Kolchak.
You are where you wanted to be.

Oh, I am.

- Mon bébé, Francois.
- Uh, yeah.

He is dead.

But not buried.

I mean, his body is missing
from its grave, madam.

I could not go to my grandson's
burial or Immigration catch me sure.

Two young fellows dig up mon
bébéfor me so we can burn his poor body.

That is custom in my family.

Mm-hmm.
Where did you burn it?

That is personal matter.

Do not be rude, sonny.

I saw your grandson last night. He didn't
look good, but he didn't look burned.

He looked to me like one
of the living dead, a zombie.

Oh, you go to le cinéma
too much, sonny.

- Mmm.
- I don't know...

where you get these crazy idea or
why you come here to tell me this.

Well, for one thing,
I'd like to know, uh,

how you knew I was coming to this
house before I even got to the door.

And also, why do people
call you Mama Lois?

- What you think that mean?
- Well, I've heard about a man called a Papa Lois.

A bokor, I think.
A practitioner of voodoo.

They call me Mamalois because
I can make little medicines...

to cure little sicknesses.

You have any little sicknesses?

Sometimes my back hurts
when I hear certain stories.

Ah.

I give you little medicine.

Drink some this. Your
back don't hurt no more.

- Uh...
- You afraid?

You already drink the rum,
sonny.

The white rum.

Uh, thank you very much.

You're crazy, sonny.

My stomach had taken
a lot of punishment...

in the last two days.

I figured the real gut-slammer
was about to come.

A minute or so passed, and I
felt no ill effects. I just felt stupid.

Kolchak. Kolchak. Kolchak.

- Carl... - Not now.
I'm writing an article.

Kolchak, my people on the
street tell me you're making...

a lot of noise about your big
zombie story being in the works.

I just told Mr. Vincenzo that's
not responsible journalism.

Responsible journalism.

Yeah, I know. I know.

Okay, Mr. Vincenzo,

I guess we're gonna
have to go over this place...

with a fine-tooth comb.

What do you mean, Captain?

Well, this place... it's old.

Lot of fire laws
being violated here.

- Where? What's the matter?
- Look. Exposed wires.

- That's only one wire.
- Look here. Look here.

- Papers next to a hot plate.
- Well, I can get... Oh!

- Get that out of there.
- What about your fire stairwells?

You haven't got books and
boxes stacked out there, have you?

Kolchak,
will you stop that typing?

Don't be afraid
of this blowhard.

I think I can get Fire Chief
Langsdorf down here right now.

Now, wait a second. Wait a second,
Captain. Let's not be too hasty.

Yeah, let's
just wait a couple seconds.

Know what this is?
See this?

This is a voodoo shrine.

Now, it's from a shrine
just like this...

that Francois Edmonds, dead
man, rotting cadaver and zombie...

receives his
instructions to kill.

Now, his victims
that he has to kill...

are picked out by having
their names written in blood...

by a papalois, a mamalois,
a Mama Lois, whatever.

- Carl... - Yeah,
yeah. That's right.

You oughta commit this to memory.
You oughta really bone up on this, Captain.

Especially the part
on how to kill a zombie.

What's the matter? You can't
read? Well, I'll tell you how.

You instruct all of your men that
go out looking for this zombie...

to look in places of the dead...

In graveyards, in cemeteries,
in mortuaries or whatever.

Each one of them has to be
equipped with the following items...

White candles, matches, salt...

and needle and thread.

Now, after you catch the zombie,

you pour the salt
into his mouth.

Then with the needle and thread,

you sew the lips...

very tightly together.

What do you do
with it then, Kolchak?

Cook the guy?
Baste him with butter?

No, you light the candles
around him.

So far, this zombie has only killed
people who were connected to his murder.

That's why its so important, Captain,
for you to find out how to kill him.

And what's that crack
supposed to mean?

You see that little knickknack
there, Captain? That is your coffin.

And spelled in blood, chicken blood,
on the top of it, is your name, Winwood.

W-I-N-W-O-O-D.

What it really spells, Captain,

is not only are you a crooked
cop, you're also a murderous one.

- How long have you been on Sposato's payroll, huh?
- You're pathetic!

I can explain all this.

Carl's been under an awful lot of pressure
lately. I'm probably to blame for that.

Were you paid to participate in Edmonds's
murder or just to look the other way?

This is all the evidence you got? My
name written in nail polish on a shoe box?

That's chicken blood,
and that is your coffin.

And if you don't want
your back splintered...

like an orange crate,
you better listen to me.

All right. What about you? I see
that your name's written here too.

Now what's your connection
with the murder?

I ask a lot of questions.

Seems like nobody likes that...
cops, voodooists or politicians.

- Wouldn't you agree?
- Well, in that case, since we all agree,

we ought to be able to
settle our differences.

I want that zombie story killed or you're
gonna be hearing from Chief Langsdorf.

- I... I meant to tell you...
- I'm comin'!

Sewing the zombie's lips shut
only works if the zombie is dormant.

If he isn't...

Then you'd better have some
white candles with you...

to burn while you try
to strangle him.

And be very, very, very careful
lighting those candles. You know why?

- So you won't violate
any fire laws, ya dumb... -

Kolchak!
Listen, Kolchak,

I gotta do something
about little Monique in there.

- Where do you think you're goin'?
- Out.

- We have some talking to do.
- Yeah.

Laurel Pirette happens to
be singing at Zachary's...

- in the alley for the dinner show.
- So what?

So Laurel Pirette happens to
be Sposato's newest girlfriend.

And that's where Sposato's
going to be...

- and that's where the zombie's gonna be.
- That's where I'm gonna be.

- Wait for me!
- No!

- I'm comin'!
- Get back! Get back!

I'm ready for anything!

I didn't give the order,
Mr. Edmonds. I swear!

I don't remember
anything about it. Gino!

Gino! Gino!
Gino, help me ple...

Cab! Hey!

Take her to Brooklyn.
New York!

Hey, wait! Wait!

Hey! Wait!

Ugh...

Ugh.

Kolchak. Kolchak.

With my camera in pieces,

Captain Winwood's story
of innocence was intact.

He never stood trial for
murder. My proof was gone.

But that doesn't mean my story
was false. Quite the contrary.

Where's Monique? Her uncle's
on the phone, worried sick.

She's in a cab on the way
to Brooklyn.

She's in a cab
on the way to Brooklyn.

What?

What did you say?

You're delighted?

You didn't what her here
in the first place?

But why? Why?

I mean, why?

Item... Mamalois Edmonds was
deported to her native country...

only one day after
the events of the junkyard.

Item... Captain Leo Winwood
was relieved of duty for...

"reasons of health."

Item... Francois Edmonds,
the deceased,

was buried a third time
at public expense.

A third time.
However, this time...

rock salt was poured in his
mouth, and his lips were sewn shut.

City officials will deny this,

but you can see it
for yourself, if...

If... you'd care to venture
out to St. Lucy's Cemetery...

and exhume the corpse.

Be my guest.

If you've got the nerve.