Perry Mason (1957–1966): Season 2, Episode 21 - The Case of the Lost Last Act - full transcript

"Steve says, 'I know my people.

"'I know the two faces of them.

"'The faces they
wear for the public,

"and the secret faces they
show only to each other"

"Gilbert says,
'Perhaps. We'll see.

"When do I get the last act"

"And Steve says,
'I'm starting it

"'as soon as you leave.

"If I live to finish it"

"Steve opens the door
for them, and they exit.

"Steve grins, sits at his desk,



"switches on the Dictaphone
and begins to dictate.

"Third act.

"It's a few minutes
after midnight

"as the curtain rises,

"but Steve gets no further.

"There's the sound of a shot,

and Steve slumps over
his typewriter, dead."

Curtain falls on the second act.

Any comments?

Not even from our producer?

Mr. Gifford?

I'll reserve my comment

until I've heard the last act.

I think you'll find it exciting.



If this is someone's
idea of a joke,

I don't appreciate
it. What's happened?

The last act. Someone
took it out of the script

and replaced it
with blank pages.

Well, perhaps when
they were assembled...

I assembled them myself.

It's gone. Even from
the file copy in my desk.

Saves us the trouble
of listening to it.

You didn't like the
first two acts, Mr. West?

No. None of it.

And you, Helen?

Well, it disturbs me, Ernest.

I feel there's something
very wrong with it.

It's not fair to judge a play

by two acts, but...

Yes?

Well... frankly,

I didn't like what I heard.

Why not?

The characters are confused.

The... motivations are obscure.

Anything else, John?

There's no kindness,
no understanding.

Nothing but a sort of...

snarling viciousness

that I find most distasteful.

If you ask me... I have
already asked you.

John's right.

If you'd look at your characters

with love instead
of hate, Ernest.

Especially the
character you'll play?

I'm sure you can change it.

Why are you doing this thing?

It's not your kind of play.

A Gifford production means
something to the public.

There's a guarantee
of a great, new play.

An exciting eve...

Stop being a press agent, Jim.

And you... the great
star, Helen Dwight,

crawling down from
a sky full of fine parts

to wallow in this
muddy melodrama.

Why you doing it?

I always do what my
producer tells me to.

Especially when he also
happens to be my husband.

You're her brother.
Show some gumption

for once in your
life. Talk to her.

Oh, I think you're getting

all excited about nothing, Jim.

Oh, I didn't think
it was that bad.

When Ernest rewrites
it the way John wants...

There will not be any rewriting.

Why, Ernest? Why
be so arbitrary?

You've made mistakes before.

Because I didn't know
what I was writing about.

But this time I do.

I'm telling a story
about real, living people.

People that I know.

For the first time as a writer,

I'm telling the truth.

Then all the more
reason for rewriting.

Why condemn these
unfortunate people

without a fair trial?

Why call them criminals
without trying to understand

what made them commit a crime?

What good is it to hurt people?

My play is more
important than the people.

Oh. This kind of argument

isn't going to get us anywhere.

I suggest we all go
home and think about it.

Calmly. We can get
together later on tonight.

I'll be too busy.

With nothing more
important than this.

Have you forgotten?
The last act is missing.

You're gonna write it
again? Well, of course.

Whoever took it
wasn't very bright.

I wrote it once. I
can write it again.

The revisions I want may change

your last act completely.

I told you, there
will be no changes.

I won't produce it.

I think you will.

I think you'll see it my way.

I'm sure you will.

Now, here are
the first two acts.

I'll have the third act for you

by the end of the week.

Good afternoon.

It's Frank.

In response to your offer...

Well, Frank. I didn't
hear you come in.

I rang the bell.
Nobody answered.

Oh, I guess I didn't hear it.

How did you get in?

Door was unlocked.

That's funny.

I, uh... I've been
trying to catch up

on some of my
unanswered mail here.

It really piles up.

Pretty busy, huh?
Well, you know how it is.

Just getting ready
to go into production.

It's a...

It's a real strain.

Yeah.

I stopped by to pick up Faith.

Faith? Well, she's gone.
She left with Gifford.

No, I saw them leave.

She wasn't with 'em.

Well, she walked out with 'em.

You're lying, Ernie.

You shouldn't say
things like that, Frank.

It might get you into trouble.

Well, I'll tell you, Ernie,
I don't want any trouble.

So I'll tell you
what I'm gonna do.

I'm gonna take my girl and
my money out of your show.

You can't do
that. It was a deal.

A bad deal.

You'll make a
fortune. I got a fortune.

And I got a girl too.
Now, look, Frank.

You're all wrong about the girl.

She's a nice kid.

Well, anyway, I can't
return the money.

I... It's out of my hands.

I turned it all over to
John Gifford, the producer.

Get it back.

I can't. Get it back!

Well, we'll have to talk
to John Gifford about it.

You do that. Now. Now?

We'll have to
wait until morning.

I don't have to
do anything, Ernie.

I want that money back,
and I want it in cash.

Well, it's too late.
The banks are closed.

It's Friday.

The banks are open until 6.

It's only 5 now.

What is all the rush?
You don't need the money.

You ain't listening
to me, Ernie.

I said I'm taking my money
and my girl out of your show.

Well, all right. Take
the girl out if you want...

They come together.
They always did.

That's the way it was agreed.

But there wasn't
anything in the agreement

about you and my girl...

so I'm closing out everything.

I'm coming back
here later tonight

for that money, Ernie.

If you ain't got it,

you ain't gonna get
another chance to get it.

Scared?

Go on, get out of here.
And get out of here fast.

Oh, there's nothing
to get excited about.

Are you crazy?
You were listening.

You heard what he said.

Don't worry about him.

He'll do what I tell him.

But will you?

What do you want?

Well, I'm...

I'm such a nasty
person in the play.

Rewrite my part so I'll
be more sympathetic.

You see, if I did it for love...

Are you lecturing
me on the drama?

Where did you learn
that? At the actors' school?

You'll rewrite my
part the way I want it.

If you do, I'll get Frank
to change his mind.

If you don't, you
and your producer

will have to get another
sucker to back you.

Not at all, sweetie.

You make trouble for me,

and you'll have to get yourself
another sucker to back you.

Frank loves me. He'll stick
with me no matter what.

Not when I tell
him all about Faith

and the rest of her kind.

He'd kill you.

Well, that could be.

But he'd probably
kill you first.

No answer.

Well, try again.

John, darling...

this play must not be
produced as it's written.

I guess he meant what he said.

If only he had a little pity.

Pity.

He doesn't answer.

Hi, Frank. Hi, baby.

You look tired. I am.

I'll fix you a drink. Thanks.

This will make you feel better.

I stopped by Royce's
to pick you up.

You should've called.
I would've waited.

I was outside when
the others came out.

You weren't with 'em.

I'd...

just left before they did.

Why?

Why, Faith?

Well...

I just don't like to be

left alone with Royce.

He giving you a hard time?

I can handle him.

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

You're wonderful, Frank.

You'd do anything
for me, wouldn't you?

But if you weren't so
new to show business,

you'd know that he's typical of

a certain kind of wolf who...

howls at all young actresses.

We learn very quickly

how to manage his kind.

Well, I don't like it.

I'm taking you and my
money out of the show.

Well, don't be silly, Frank.

Oh, we can always
find you a new play.

But I want this one.

Frank, a Gifford production.

Helen Dwight starring.

A beautiful part.

It's a wonderful chance for me.

And that's what we
both want, isn't it?

I want you, Faith.

But you want me to
be happy too, don't you?

I got a lot to learn
about happiness.

Maybe you too.

Look, baby,

I know what it is to
want something so bad

you'll do anything
to get it. I've done it.

The hard way.

I'm just trying to figure
an easier way for you.

Where are you going?

Oh, I got some things to do.

You'll forget about Royce.

Please, Frank.

Don't worry, sugar.

Third act. It's a few
minutes after midnight.

As the curtain rises...

"Defendant has no
information nor belief

on the subject sufficient
to enable him to..."

Yes, Gertie?

Mr. Frank Brooks
to see Mr. Mason.

I don't recall an
appointment for a Mr. Brooks.

I know, but he said...

He has $10,000 in cash

for the lawyer that
handles his case.

Interesting man. Intriguing.

See if you can find out...

Oh, wait a minute.

Gertie. Yes, sir?

Show Mr. Brooks
in, will you, please?

Yes, sir.

Thank you, Gertie.

Mr. Brooks. Mr. Mason.

Mr. Brooks. There's the 10,000.

Chair?

Thank you.

Do you mind if we, uh...

talk alone?

Miss Street is my
confidential secretary.

I have no secrets from
her, nor do my clients.

Okay. Please sit down.

Thanks.

Now...

how am I supposed to earn that?

Well, making a rough guess,

I would say the cops

are gonna be looking for me, uh,

at about, um, 6:00 tonight.

Why?

To book me for the murder

of Ernest Royce,
the, uh, playwright.

Why you, in particular?

Because my fingerprints
are all over his place.

Why should that worry you?

Mr. Mason, I got a record.

The cops are gonna tie
my prints in with that record.

Look, I was brought
up in the rackets.

I know all the tricks.

If I'd wanted to kill Royce,

I wouldn't have left
any fingerprints behind.

That, uh...

honest money?

Honest? I worked
for every cent of that.

Doing what?

This.

The Brooks Drive-ins.

"Eat the best
from East to West."

There's one on
every major highway

in the United States.

Oh, you can, uh...

check that out.

I ain't ashamed of that record.

All right.

Suppose you tell me what you
were doing at Royce's house.

I went there to get
my money back.

What money?

The 75 grand I
invested in a play of his.

It was a stinker.

Didn't you know that before
you invested your money?

I never read the play. Hm.

Isn't that unusual?

I wouldn't know. I...

First time I ever got
mixed up in show business.

Well, who got you into it?

Royce.

Said it was gonna
be a smash hit.

A gold mine. Make
nothing but money.

John Gifford was
gonna produce...

Helen Dwight play the lead.

Oh, I talked it over
with my tax man.

He said...

if I lose it, it's
tax-deductible.

So I figured, well,
what can I lose?

Yet you suddenly
wanted your money back?

I don't like to be
taken, Mr. Mason.

And you decided
Royce was taking you?

That's right.

Did you and Royce quarrel?

No.

No, why should we?

He said he'd speak to Gifford

about getting my money back.

I had a few drinks,
and then I left.

Where'd you go?

Home.

You're married? No.

Girl?

No special girl, if that's
what you're thinking.

I'm only thinking what
the police will think.

Now, who were
you with last night?

Nobody.

No alibi.

Well, if what you
told me is true...

I see no reason why
you shouldn't be able

to give the same
information to the police.

Well, I would like
you on my side

when I start talking to them.

I'm sure the police will
find lots of fingerprints

belonging to all
kinds of people.

Tying yours to an old record

certainly isn't enough evidence

to support a murder charge.

Here.

You'd better keep that.

Something for your advice?

Not this time.

Thank you, Mr. Mason.

Goodbye, Mr. Brooks.

Goodbye.

Mr. Mason.

Try one of my
hamburgers sometime.

They're the greatest.

Hi, Frank. Faith.

Isn't it terrible about Royce?

It's in all the papers.

Look, they even have
my name in the story.

Yeah, I know. It ain't any good.

Well, what's bad about it?

Me getting star billing
with Helen Dwight.

Now, look, baby. Try
to understand, will you?

The less you get
mixed up in the thing,

the better off it's
gonna be for both of us.

Why?

Oh, I'll write you a letter.

Meanwhile, I want
you to get out of town.

Here.

There's some money.

Now you take it, and you go to

Europe, Africa, anyplace.

Go just as far as you can go.

With all of this
publicity going for me?

You must be out of your mind.

Well, this publicity is
gonna turn awfully sour

the minute the cops find
out I was backing this play

just to buy you a job.

Now... look,

do us both a big favor, huh?

Disappear just
as fast as you can.

Tsk.

Well, I don't see why
I have to run away

just because you
threatened to...

Well, go on, baby.

Finish what you were gonna say.

I heard you, Frank.

I heard you tell Ernie Royce
you'd be back last night.

Heh.

You were there all the time.

You gonna kill me too, Frank?

Why are you looking
at me like that?

Because I never really

looked at you before.

It's been nice
knowing you, Faith.

What are you trying to tell me?

I already told you.

Now, you've got the money.

Take it and get
out of town fast.

If there's any wrap-up...

Who is it?

The police.

May we come in?

I could say no, maybe, huh?

You're Miss, uh, Faith Foster?

Uh, you're Mr. Frank Brooks?

Yeah. That's right.

Heh. You know, it, heh...

It's always easier for me
if somebody says, uh...

"What do you want?"

Well, ten to one, it
ain't a hamburger.

What do you want?
Thank you, miss.

You, uh...

got a warrant?

Of course.

Miss Foster.

I'm sorry to bother
you this way.

You're it.

Mr. Mason? Yes?

I'm Jim West,
Mr. Gifford's publicist.

He's on the set, but he'll
be through in a moment.

Like to watch?

I'd like to go someplace
a little more private.

Well, we could use one
of the dressing rooms.

Oh, here he is.
Mr. Gifford, Mr. Mason.

How do you do? How do you do?

Perhaps we should have
arranged this meeting

at a less busy time.

Well, there's no less busy time.

It's always like this. Between
doing two pictures here,

and at least one play
in New York every year,

I find that time is the
scarcest thing in my life.

I know. I suffer the
same deficiency.

Well, shall we get to
the business at hand?

Uh, yes. Uh, whatever it is.

Uh, this dressing
room isn't being used.

Okay.

I've heard a lot
about you, Mr. Mason.

And I about you,
Mr. Gifford. Ha.

It's mostly due to Mr. West.

He's my publicity man.

Uh, Mr. Mason. Thank you.

What did you want
to talk to me about?

Well, several things.

How well do you
know Frank Brooks?

Well, I met him only once.

It was when he was
brought here by Ernest Royce

to sign contracts
and give me a check.

You know nothing
about his background?

Well, his check was good.

I must admit, that's
all I was interested in.

Were...

Brooks and Royce very friendly?

I really don't know.

Now, you have produced
more than one play by Royce?

Yes.

Four. All flops.

Mm, artistic flops?

Royce never wrote a decent play.

Yet you were about to

produce another of his plays?

It had great promise.

You agree with that, Mr. West?

Mr. Gifford's the producer.
I just blow the horn.

I see.

Like to have a copy
of the Royce play.

It's unfinished. It's not
going to be produced.

Nevertheless,
I'd like to read it.

Well, I see no point.

I'll get a copy from the police.

Uh...

Mr. West will get you
a copy from the office

on the way out.

You asked for it, Mr. Mason.

Don't blame me
when you're finished.

Why didn't you like
Royce, Mr. West?

The theater is something

very special to me, Mr. Mason.

It's been my family, my home...

everything I've ever wanted.

When I'm inside a
theater, I'm in a church.

When I see a great play...

I hear angels singing.

When I see great performances,

I'm walking the
streets of heaven.

Those streets are very clean

and beautiful, Mr. Mason.

They should be kept that way.

And I repeat...

why didn't you
like Ernest Royce?

He was a litterbug.

Thank you, gentlemen.

Goodbye. Goodbye.

All right, quiet, please.

This will be a take.

Roll 'em.

Speed.

All right...

action.

Hello, Michael.

John.

Hello, darling.
Darling, how are you?

Let me take your coat, hm?

Mm-hm.

More police today?

A lawyer. Perry Mason.

Representing Brooks?

You shouldn't have seen him.

Michael, please. Just relax.

Helen shouldn't be bothered
with all this nonsense.

You know she... Uh, no talk.

Sit down.

Helen Dwight...

the great star.

John Gifford, the
great producer.

She brings me my slippers.

Well, she's his loving wife.

Ah.

Where's the glamour of it?

For us?

In the beginning,

the dream was always work.

But there was no play...

and then there was a play.

Then there were only
the words of the play,

and the fear of the words.

Then there was you.

You made the words come alive.

There was no glamour ever.

There was only work.

The love of work.

Love of you.

You and me.

This is our world.

Heh.

There's no other population.

Is this wrong?

Well, we'll know
when the curtain falls

on the last act.

Hm.

Della?

Yes, Perry.

Get Michael Dwight on
the phone for me, will you?

Uh, I don't have his number.

Well, try Gifford's
office at the studio.

Do you realize it's after 9:00?

The studio operator
will get a message

through to him.

Alrighty.

Happy reading?

Hardly.

Mr. Royce is not
my kind of writer.

Did you read the
book too? Mm-hm.

Unpleasant.

And that's an understatement.

Why would a publisher
want to print a collection

of unsuccessful plays?

Della, there are
certain printers who will

publish anything if you pay

the cost of the printing.

Seems to me that...

Hello?

Uh, could you get a message

to Mr. Michael
Dwight for me, please?

He's Mr. Gifford's
business manager.

Yes, it's urgent.

Would you have him call
Mr. Perry Mason please?

Thank you.

Now, how long have you been

Miss Dwight's business manager?

Ever since I got out of college.

You've never worked
for anyone else?

I'm also Mr. Gifford's
personal business manager.

Oh? For how long?

Same length of
time as my sister.

Then you'd be familiar

with all their
contractual obligations?

Yes.

Now, as I understand it,
a run-of-the-play contract

is one in which a
performer is bound

to remain with the
play until it closes.

That's right.

I ask, because Helen Dwight

had such a contract.

You really find
things out, don't you?

Hm. So do the police.

Now, isn't it, uh...

unusual for a star
like Miss Dwight

to have signed such a contract

without first having
read the play?

When it comes to plays...

she does what
John Gifford advises.

But none of you...
Not even John Gifford

knew a thing about the play
until the day of the murder.

Yet the contracts were
signed several days before.

Why?

I was not consulted.

Well, as their business manager,

didn't you draw the contracts?

I did as I was told.

You also drew Miss
Foster's contract?

Yes.

Why would Mr. Gifford give
a contract to an unknown?

A run-of-the-play contract?

He must have had
great belief in her.

Didn't Royce introduce
her to Mr. Gifford?

Look, Mr. Mason...

Royce is dead.

As far as I'm concerned,
the play died with him.

Both corpses have been buried,

and that's the way
they're gonna stay.

Personally, I'd say
whoever killed Royce

did the world a great favor.

Excuse me. Uh, Perry,
I'd like to talk to you.

When you're through,
I'll be in the lobby.

That's all right. Mr. Mason
and I are finished.

I was just about to leave.

Oh, have your drink, Mr. Dwight.

Thank you for coming down.

What did you find out
about Frank Brooks?

He lied to you
about Faith Foster.

He was trying to keep
her out of the case.

Very nice. How do you
know he hasn't lied to you

about a lot of other things too?

I don't. What are
you leading up to?

You remember a hood
named Rick Volponi?

Mm-hm.

In New York.

Big man in the numbers
racket, wasn't he?

Mm-hm. About the same
time Frank Brooks admits

he was a small operator
in the same neighborhood.

Go on. Volponi was shot.

The New York police took it
for the usual gang-war rubout.

But they never even
got a clue to the killer.

So they haven't closed
the files on the case.

That happened about
10 years ago, didn't it?

Twelve. When Tragg got in touch

with the New York police
about Brooks' record,

they asked for everything
he had on the Royce case,

including a plastic
mold of the bullet

taken out of Royce's head.

And they found...?

The bullet that killed Royce

came from the same
gun that killed Volponi

12 years ago.

Well, it's a long
arm of coincidence

that reaches all the way
from Los Angeles to New York,

and takes 12 years to do it.

Nevertheless, Perry, he didn't

tell you everything before.

He may be concealing
100 other things.

That may be so, Della...

but I'm almost sure
he didn't kill Royce.

Why?

Royce was killed by one
of the real-life characters

he was writing
about in his play.

Brooks didn't resemble
one of those characters.

Unless he was in the last act.

The lost last act.

Let's go.

What are you in such a rush for?

You don't need the money.

You ain't listening
to me, Ernie.

I said I'm taking my money

and my girl out of your show.

All right, you
can take the girl...

They come together.
They always did.

That's the way it was agreed.

But there wasn't
anything in the agreement

about you and my girl...

so I'm closing out everything.

I'm gonna come
back here later tonight

for that money, Ernie.
Now, you better have it,

'cause I won't give you
another chance to get it.

Now, with regard to the
voices on that recording,

which is entered in evidence
as People's Exhibit A,

I ask you, Mr. Dwight,

have you ever spoken to
the decedent, Ernest Royce?

Many times.

Was his voice one
of the two voices

on that recording
you just heard?

Yes. One was the
voice of Ernest Royce.

Now, about the defendant.

How many times
have you talked to him?

Mm... perhaps 15 or 20 times.

Often on the phone.

Can you identify
one of the voices

on that recording as
the defendant's voice?

Yes, definitely.

One was Royce and
the other was Brooks.

Thank you, Mr. Dwight.
No further questions.

Your witness, Mr. Mason.

No questions.

I call James West
to the stand, please.

Now, Mr. West,

are you aware
of any relationship

between the defendant
and Miss Foster?

Only that he was willing

to invest a large amount

of money in furthering
her career as an actress.

Are you aware
of any relationship

between the decedent,
Ernest Royce, and Miss Foster?

Nothing I could swear to.

Well, you made a
statement to the police

in which you said that you
saw Mr. Royce and Miss Foster

embracing each other. I did.

Was Miss Foster aware that
you were seeing them like this?

She was.

And she made no attempt
to hide the relationship?

Well, she asked
me not to mention it

to the defendant, Frank Brooks.

Oh.

Your Honor, I object
to this testimony

as being completely incompetent.

The district attorney
knows very well

that a man on trial for his life

cannot be bound by
statements made by others

at times when he's not present,

or where the statements
are not under oath.

If it please the court, I
agree with defense counsel,

and I regret the witness'
answer to my last question.

Objection sustained.

The witness' answer
to the last question

will be stricken
from the record.

Proceed, Mr. Burger.

I have no further questions
of this witness, Your Honor.

You may cross-examine,
Mr. Mason.

Now, Mr. West, before
becoming a publicist,

you were a newspaper reporter?

That's right. You
had your own byline?

I got it when I was 23.

I show you now
certain Photostats

of newspaper articles
purportedly written by you.

Yeah, I wrote 'em.

It was a long time ago.

Twelve years.

Your Honor, I offer
these Photostats

for identification, to be
marked Defense Exhibit A.

So ordered.

Now, Mr. West...

you covered a great many things

in your columns at that time.

Theater.

Murder.

I note you were very interested

in the Volponi case. Uh.

That's right.

It was a real mystery.

According to another column

of almost that same date...

Mr. Gifford announced his
first Broadway production.

That's right.

Didn't you meet Helen
Dwight at about that time?

Well, I didn't exactly meet her.

Please explain.

I saw her on-stage
in her first play.

That was also
Mr. Gifford's first production.

That's right.

You praised them
both very highly.

Hm.

Hard to find new words
to say how great she was.

You even announced
in your column

that you were in love with her.

I still am.

Even her husband knows that.

I quote from the Royce play,

act two, page 38,

"Steve laughing...

'Old murders make
fascinating plays.'"

Now, Mr. West...

was the Royce play based
on the Volponi murder?

I object, Your Honor.

That question calls for a
conclusion of the witness.

If it please the court...

Mr. West, as a newspaperman,
covered the Volponi case.

Within proper definitions,

his conclusion...

could be considered
that of an expert.

If it please the court...

in any event, the
question is incompetent,

and immaterial and irrelevant.

The content of the play

has nothing to do
with our murder case.

Has Mr. Burger read the play?

Yes, Mr. Burger has.

And if he may quote Shakespeare,

It is a "tale told by an idiot,

full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing."

Shakespeare also said...

"Nature's above
art in that respect."

Your Honor... I do not dispute

Mr. Burger's literary
objections to the play.

I do, however, question
his legal objections.

Mr. Royce was killed
in exactly the manner

he described in his own play.

Your Honor...

is Mr. Mason suggesting

that the deceased
planned his own murder?

A good playwright
knows his characters.

Once having created them,

he doesn't force
them into situations

contrary to their
natural destiny.

Again, let me quote
from the Royce play.

"I know my people.

"I know the two faces of them.

"The faces they
wear for the public,

"and the secret faces they
show only to each other.

They'll play as
I've written them."

Now, I submit that this play...

The Royce play

is based on the Volponi murder.

If it please the court,

I'd like to apologize to
the court and to counsel.

I didn't realize what counsel

was trying to bring
before the court.

Not only will I
make no objection,

I will stipulate that all facts

concerning the murder of
Rick Volponi can be considered

in connection with the
case presently at bar.

I'm most willing for
counsel to proceed.

With the
understanding, of course,

that... counsel having opened
the door, we can all walk in.

Is, uh, counsel for the defense

willing to proceed

under these conditions?

Yes, Your Honor. Quite willing.

Thank you, Mr. Burger.

You're welcome, Mr. Mason.

Please proceed, Mr. Mason.

Your Honor.

I'll ask the question
once again, Mr. West.

Is the Royce play based
on the Volponi murder?

I can't say.

You refuse to say?

No, I don't know.

The answer would've
been in the third act,

which was stolen.

No further questions.

Witness may stand down.

I call Mr. John Gifford
to the stand, please.

Now, Mr. Gifford, would
you please recite for this court

your conversation with
Mr. Brooks on this occasion?

He insisted that Miss Foster

have the best of everything.

No money spared.

And what did you say?

I told him that in my companies,

I made the decisions.

If he didn't like it, he
could have his money back.

I see.

He's lying.

We didn't have any argument.

There wasn't anything
said about any money back.

All right.

What was your
reaction to this meeting?

Well, naturally, I was
somewhat disturbed.

Obviously, uh, Mr. Brooks

was a very determined man.

I think that will be all,
Mr. Gifford. Thank you.

Mr. Mason, cross-examine.

Mr. Gifford...

you stated on direct examination

that you've been a
producer for nearly 15 years.

Yes.

Were you an immediate success?

Ha-ha. Hardly.

I missed many meals
in those early days.

It was a long, hard struggle.

Your first production caused

considerable
comment, did it not?

Yeah. It was
fortunately a success,

if that's what you mean.

Well, the columnists had
quite a bit to say about it

even before you opened it.

Yeah, I really don't
remember too much about it.

Perhaps we can jog your memory

by showing you this
newspaper account,

which has heretofore been marked

Defendant's Exhibit
A for identification.

Now, would you
please read that section

that has been
circled in red ink?

"John Gifford announces,
as his first production,

"the first play by Ernest Royce,

"starring Helen Dwight,

"who will make her first
appearance on a Broadway stage.

"An interesting trio of firsts,

all new to the New
York theatrical world."

Thank you.

Your Honor, I ask
that this Photostat

be introduced in evidence.

Very well, Mr. Mason.

Thank you.

Now, Mr. Gifford...

the item you just read...

was it true?

It is.

As of the date it was printed.

Why was it not
true at a later date?

Well, I changed my plans.

Your first production
was by another author?

Yes.

But at the time
this was written...

you were just getting started.

Yet you were able to obtain
financing for a first play

starring an unknown actress.

Yes.

From whom did
you get this money?

I, uh...

I don't remember.

Wasn't this money offered to you

by Ernest Royce, the playwright,

with the single
proviso that you star

an unknown young woman?

And wasn't the sponsor
of this young woman

a notorious gangster?

Your Honor, I object
to defense counsel's

deliberate disregard for
the rules of procedure.

He knows perfectly well
that no proper foundation

has been laid for this
kind of cross-examination.

And not only is it improper
cross-examination...

it assumes facts
not in evidence,

and it calls for matters

that have no possible
connection with this case.

I respectfully remind the
court that the decedent,

Ernest Royce, was writing
a play when he was killed...

and that this play has
been admitted in evidence.

Mr. Burger must recognize
the startling similarity

between Mr. Gifford's
circumstance 12 years ago

and the first act of this play.

Your Honor, this
is pure conjecture.

It belongs on a stage,

not in a court of law.

May I read to the
court these lines

written by the decedent?

"Barbara: 'Why must
you open this old,

"forgotten grave again?'

"Steve, laughing:

"'Old murders make
fascinating plays"

"Gilman: 'They can also

motivate new murders.'"

Now, what was in
this old, forgotten grave

that caused the decedent

to kill his own
character in the play,

and then be killed himself?

I respectfully submit
that Mr. Gifford's answers

may clarify these questions.

Objection overruled.

You may proceed, Mr. Mason.

Thank you, Your Honor.

Now, Mr. Gifford...

was Helen Dwight's sponsor

a notorious gangster?

I don't remember.

Well, does the name Rick Volponi

suggest anything to you?

Didn't Mr. Royce
introduce him to you?

No.

I must remind you
you're under oath.

I don't remember.

Do you remember how
many times you saw Mr. Royce

on the day he was murdered?

Uh...

Well, there was the
reading late in the afternoon.

Weren't you also
there in the morning?

In the morning? Uh...

yes, yes. We went
there in the morning.

We? Who went with you?

Uh, Mr. Michael Dwight.

Mr. Dwight is your
business manager, is he not?

Yes.

He is also your brother-in-law?

Yes.

Was he with you all the
time you were transacting

whatever business you
had with the decedent?

Um... no.

Uh, no.

He went into the study
to make a telephone call.

Why did you give Mr. Royce
your check for $75,000

the morning after
Mr. Brooks gave you his check

for the exact same amount?

Check?

Your check, for that amount,

made out to the
order of Ernest Royce,

was deposited by him to
his account at that time.

Uh...

It... It was an advance.

An advance on his royalties.

A $75,000 advance?

Well, it's my money. I
can do what I want with it.

Nobody tells me what to do.

Not Jim West, nor Helen
Dwight, nor anyone else.

It's my show, and
I run it my way!

Mr. Gifford...

are you asking
this court to believe

that you made a $75,000 advance

on a play you hadn't even read?

I have every right to do
as I please with my money.

Do you have every
right to allow yourself

to be blackmailed
to hide a murder?

For I submit that every
Royce play you produced

was a form of blackmail.

Royce brought you a backer.

The backer gave you money.

You then turned that
money over to Royce...

using your own money
to produce the play.

You did this because
12 years ago,

Rick Volponi had found out

that you and his girl,

Helen Dwight,
had fallen in love.

He threatened her,
so you killed him.

And Royce knew you killed him.

Where did you get that?

He knew your two faces.

For years, you
paid him a fortune

not to make your
secret face public.

And when finally he
demanded not only money...

but the sadistic pleasure

of re-creating the events

surrounding the
Volponi murder...

Royce was killed.

Now, Mr. Gifford...

where is the gun that
killed Rick Volponi?

No, no.

Michael, he mustn't.

This is... my gun...

registered in my name.

I killed Rick Volponi.

Ernest Royce said he would

dispose of it for me,

but he didn't.

He held it to my head

for 12 years.

Forced me to give him money...

produce his plays.

Time and again,

he tortured me with this gun...

put it in my hand...

defied me to use it.

But he knew I couldn't kill.

That night, I came back to
plead with him about the play.

He taunted me again.

And this time,

the gun spoke out for me.

Better give it to
me, Mr. Gifford.

This gun has a...

limited vocabulary.

It speaks one short word.

And everything that
is, is suddenly revised.

What is becomes what was...

and what might have been...

can never be.

Please, Mr. Gifford, the gun.

It has one more word

to speak.

It would be the wrong
word, Mr. Gifford.

A tragic ending
to a play based on

an old and...

sad mistake.

You know as well as I,

it was not you who killed Royce.

And I can tell you now...

it was not Helen Dwight
who killed Volponi.

You! You killed Volponi,
and you killed Royce.

And you made John and Helen

suffer all these years.

Why you... Yes!

I killed Volponi.

Stop it. Because he...

Because he hurt Helen.

And I killed Royce...

because he'd
never let her forget it.

And all those years, I...

I thought you killed him.

I tried to tell you, John.

I tried to tell you,
but I couldn't.

Thank you, Mr. Mason.

You saved me from becoming

a cheap and
melodramatic anticlimax.

Michael killed Royce with
Gifford's gun, didn't he?

Mm-hm.

He got it from Royce's desk

when he stole the last act.

Well, then how did
Gifford get it back?

Same way he got it 12 years ago.

From Helen?

She knew immediately
that Michael killed Royce.

Just as Gifford
immediately believed

that Helen had done it.

Helen took the gun from Michael.

Gifford took the gun from her.

It was the same triple
play all over again.

Only this time, it was
Royce who was snuffed out.

One question, counselor.

When did you land on Michael?

When Gifford,
without realizing it,

pointed to him as the person
who'd stolen the last act.

You mean, when he
was supposed to be

making the telephone call?

Mm-hm. Well...

What a nice surprise.

Well, I was invited too.

Where? I forgot to tell you.

We were all invited
to dine with Brooks

at his Wilshire drive-in.

You know, the place that serves

the flaming hamburgers.

On a sword. Naturally.

Perry, if you want to
make my evening complete,

just tell me where you found it.

Found what? The lost last act.

Oh, just a minute.

Here.

Like to read it?

They're all blank.

Della. Hm?

You were kidding

about flaming
hamburgers on a sword?

No, I wasn't.

Perry...

you take the hamburger.

I'll eat the sword.