Starsky and Hutch (1975–1979): Season 4, Episode 4 - Photo Finish - full transcript

When philandering artist Tony Braddock meets his doom, Starsky and Hutch begin some black-tie sleuthing on the champagne circuit.





STARSKY: I don't know, Marcie.

Maybe we oughta go get a pizza
and hang out at the pier today.

MARCIE: But I have to
make this party, David.

My public relations firm is
handling the guest of honor.

STARSKY: I know. I
just don't think I'll fit in.

HUTCH: Of course you will.

Throw a towel over your
arm and bow from the waist.

Oh, don't listen to
him. You look gorgeous.

Yeah? Yeah.

Right out of
Gentlemen's Quarterly.

Really? HUTCH: Yeah.

Or the Lounge Lizard Monthly.

I wish you'd reconsider
and go with us.

Oh, of course not.

I'm not gonna go to
any society function.

That's for the
penguin here, not me.

He'd be over his head anyway.

Ahem. Doesn't know how
to handle himself in style.

Oh, come on, Hutch.
Paula's gonna be there.


I know she doesn't have a date.

Does not ring a bell.

You met her
outside the PR office.

The one with the legs?

Now it rings a bell.

She's really my boss.

Account executive
handling Troy Braddock,

the artist the party's for.

The one with the eyes?

She thought you
were interesting.



Um, excuse me, sir.

Can I see you?

Uh, do you have another
one of those costumes

in a size 40?

Uh, wait a minute. Um...

Look, y-you just said this thing

was strictly by invitation.

How...? How are
we gonna get him in?

Same way I'm getting you in.

I'll say he works
for the PR firm.

Excuse me.


HUTCH: There. How's that look?

Like a very small tip.





Your hubby's giving
us the old fisheye again.

Right. He's so
irritating when he sulks.

If he creates a scene, I'm
moving right to the beach house.


Just brazen it out, baby.

Basil married you for
your youth and beauty.

He could hardly expect fidelity.



HUTCH: Starsky, reel your
tongue back in your mouth, will you,

before I think you're
actually impressed by all this.

No, I'm not.

It's just that, uh...

the rich are really different.

Sure they are.
They pay less taxes.

That's our client, Troy
Braddock, over there.

Where? The painter?

Over there.

[LAUGHS] Of course I do.

Painter, right?

Hottest thing since Andy Warhol.

New money's
falling all over him,

and old money's
thinking of investing.


HUTCH: Who's the
blond gem on his right?

Our hostess, Mrs. Basil Monk...


Wife of the famous
toy manufacturer.

Kind of cozy, aren't they?

Braddock has a theory:

The best way to a
collector's pocketbook

is through his wife's bed.

Well, why break up a
winning combination,

I always say.


Paula, you know David.

How do you do?

And this is Ken Hutchinson,
who you met last week.

From across the room

you look like a
chairman of the board.

Well. Are you ripe for
a corporate takeover?

I'd settle for a snack
and a bottle of wine

when the party's over.

In the meantime,
we've gotta get to work.

Get shots of everybody.
I've gotta make a phone call.

Why don't you guys
just mingle for a while.


Well, Starsky,
suck in your cheeks

and take tiny steps.




Tuxedo was worth
every penny I paid for it.

Catch all the looks
I've been getting? Hm?

Yeah. I guess the tag
is a little hard to see.

What tag?

The one on your
back. Says "rental."


Well, don't just
stand there. Rip it off.

Someday, some way,

I'm gonna pay you back.

Yeah, well, Starsky, look, uh,

why don't you just stand there

with your hands
behind your back,

and somebody'll think
you're... important.


Hi. Oh, hi.


Thank you. Uh...

Let me.

Drinks are complimentary,
Starsky. Hm? Oh.

Thank you, sir.

It's nothing.

You know, I hate these parties.

Everybody's so fussy, and
nobody ever leaves any tips.


Well, what's money for if you
can't make somebody happy?

Well, ah...

What is it?

Garbage. What does it look like?


How much, uh...

that piece of
garbage set you back?

My dear wife paid 20,000.


Twenty thousand's
quite a loaf. Ha-ha-ha!

Keeps out the riffraff, huh?

BRADDOCK: Ladies and gentlemen.

Ladies and gentlemen, I
should like to propose a toast

to Nicole Monk,

the proud new owner of
one of the finest investments

in the world of art:

A Troy Braddock.


A Troy Braddock... [CORK POPS]



HUTCH: Police.
Police. Step back.

Step back. Step back.


Can we get a doctor?

Can you get a doctor?

It's all right. Please.


Sir, would you take
care of the lady, please?

He's dead. [GASPS]

The man can't be
dead. He was just shot.

Calm down! I just
saw him being shot!

Party's over. Everybody
just calm down.

Marcie, I'm gonna
need that film you shot.

After I develop it.

Police lab will do it.

I can handle it. I know
you can, but I want it.

And I want a blue Rolls-Royce
with a cream-colored top.

Right there, folks.

Somebody's been killed.

Hey, I'm not the killer, Dave.

I... I'm just a lady photographer
trying to get a break.

And this film just
might put me over.

Why couldn't you guys have
been dentists or something?


Keep the change.


Look, Starsky, I really am
sorry about the monkey suit...

Hey. I got a seamstress.

She's gonna fix it up fine.

They'll never
know the difference.

Did you bring me my chilidog?

Oh, yeah, right here.

Thank you.


Now, you know
what you might try?

You might, uh, just
turn the jacket around.

Look. I rented this tuxedo.

It's my responsibility, okay?


I'll suffer the
consequences, okay? Okay.

You don't have to say
anything more about it.

Well, they sure don't make
buns like they used to, huh?


Well, well, well.

Operations give us
a new dress code?

I thought you'd
appreciate it, captain.

Starsky, you know...

I know, I know!

He knows.

All right, what we got here?


Well, we have got the, um...


We have the cream of the
society blue book, captain.

But nobody saw diddlysquat.

Has all the earmarks
of a professional hit,

but nobody in this
group looks like a pro.

I figured if we could crash
the party, somebody else could.

What about the hired help?

We went over that list.

But we're gonna
talk to them again.

This Braddock, does
he have enemies?

Well, word has it that
he sells most of his art...

Or he sold most of his art

through collectors'
wives, in bed.

Figured somebody called in a
marriage counselor with a gun.

All right, go ahead
and do your thing.

But remember...

you're not busting pimps
and prostitutes up on the strip.

I don't want any complaints
from the commissioner's office.

The velvet glove
approach, captain.

Soul of discretion, right?



Get a safety pin.

I want my guys to look neat.

Just suck in your cheeks
and take tiny steps.


All invited.

Except for the two
of you, of course.

Is there anybody in those
photographs that you don't know?

A few I wish I didn't know.

But nobody tacky enough
to murder the guest of honor.

We've heard that some people
weren't too fond of Braddock.

You mean like a jealous husband?

Now, who would murder poor
Troy over something like that?

A bad sport?

Suppose somebody
brought in a paid killer.

To my party?

What a fantastically
romantic idea.

Take your husband, for instance.

We heard that Troy
Braddock and you were, uh...

Rubbing elbows?


Well, you can forget
Basil as a suspect.

He's an absolute mouse.

He's great with dialogue,

but lousy in the
action department.

I found that out the hard way.

HUTCH: Uh... is your
husband at home?

No, he's at some toy
factory or something.

Would you excuse me?
I'm in the midst of packing.

You're taking a trip, huh?

Just to my beach house.

The butler, Harvey,
will give you the address

if you have any
further need of me.

How thoughtful.

Oh, and bring your swimsuits.

I'll bet you look
fantastic with bare knees.

Is that both of us
or one at a time?





Mr. Reinhart, this
is Marcie Fletcher.

And I've been trying
to get you all morning.

Have you heard about
the Braddock murder?

Yeah, I got it on the wire.

I've got a photo,
and it's dynamite.

Wait a minute, I
thought the police

confiscated the film.

They don't have this one.

It's the Ruby-Oswald
photo of the '70s.

Braddock hitting the floor.

Well, I'd have to
see the photograph.

I'll be there in half an hour.





REINHART: This is a
once-in-a-lifetime photograph.

MARCIE: Let's hope
it's the first of many.

REINHART: We'll want
the negative and rights.

MARCIE: Sorry. I'm
keeping negative rights.

All right. I can't really
blame you for that.

On this one anyway.

I'll call Accounting and
have them draw you a check.

And full photo credit?

You got it.

Call Pat. Have him
drop the Farrah cover.

I got something
a little fresher.

What are you doing here?

Don't you need a warrant
to break down a door?!

You might try
locking it, Marcie.

My door locks
automatically when I leave.

And this morning
was no exception.

It certainly was an exception.

Your apartment's
been broken into.

Which gives you no right to
invade other people's property.

And what the hell did
you have to do this for?

You tear the place
up looking for what?

You're now treading
on thin ice, guys.

STARSKY: Who you calling?

I have a friend who's
a budding attorney,

who would just
love to cut his teeth

on a couple of
overeager cops violating...

There's a reason why somebody
broke into your apartment

and rousted your darkroom.

What is it?

Why don't you ask my attorney.


Marcie, look...


Marcie, look out!



It was a dark green sedan, Al.

Uh-uh. No, I didn't
get the license number.

Look, why don't you check, uh...

Check the rental
companies or something.


Drink this.


I don't believe the
way some people drive.

Uh, it's pretty simple, Marcie.

Somebody tried to kill you.

The question is why.


All right...

so I held out a roll of film.

Do you have any
idea of how hard it is

for a woman to make
it in my business?

And I knew I had
something sensational.

It was my first big sale.

So you sold it, huh?

To whom?

News World Magazine.

Oh, boy.

But I only sold one print.

Where's the negative?

In a safe place.

Well, relatively safe.

Can you make a print of that?

I guess so. All the
chemicals are still there.


Better get her some
protection. Yep.


MARCIE: It's a knockout photo.

There's nothing in here
that implicates a killer.

Now, you took this with a flash

right after Braddock
was hit, right?



Somebody pops him
with a silenced automatic...

and right after
they see the flash.

You mean the killer only
thinks he's in the picture.

Well, there's no way
that the killer would know

what lens you were
using, would he?

He'd have to see
the picture to be sure.


Help has arrived.


MAN: Burke.

good care of her, Burke.

She's got a promising
career ahead of her.

Where are you going?

Back to the high-rent district.


But if you remember,
I was talking to you

when Braddock
got his just desserts.

Though, if I remember,

you were a touch
less gamy yesterday.

We know that you didn't
pull the trigger, Mr. Funk.

It's Monk. Monk.


Yet we understand
that Mr. Braddock

was kind of cozy with your wife.

Well, if that's a
motive to kill him,

then you'd have to put
half the art collectors

on the West Coast in jail

and half the artists
in protective custody.

Mr. Monk, all these Braddocks
you have around here

must've cost you a
pretty bundle, huh?

No talent really.

I wonder if it's true
that an artist's death

increases the value of his work.


What kind of car do
you drive, mister, uh...


MONK: I don't.

Driving frightens me to death.



You know, Mr. Monk,
we're gonna collar the guy

that pulled the trigger.

And they never like
to go down alone.

They always seem to finger

the man with the
money, you know.

Well, if you're implying that
I had anything to do with it,

put it out of your minds.

Violence appalls me.
I'm a devout coward.

A lot of people are
cowards, Mr. Monk.

That's why they
invented the hit man.

Harvey, show the gentlemen out.



There's a lady here, miss.
Says she's a business associate.

All right.

I'm not sure that we've
actually met, Miss Fletcher,

but perhaps you've heard of me?

Greta Wren, from the
Women's Fashion Magazine.

Oh, yes, of course.
Just a second.

Come in. Thank you.

It's all right.

Have you had some trouble?

Nothing serious.
Just a precaution.

Well, I do believe that you
are the person I wanna talk to.

Do call me Greta because
I'm gonna call you Marcie.

And we must get
right down to business.

Now, I understand that you

have an absolutely spectacular
photograph of Troy Braddock.

Gorgeous man, don't you
think? Particularly in extremis.

Word travels fast, doesn't it?

I can't tell you
how I found out.

We are not allowed
to disclose our sources.

But suffice it to say
that we also are doing

a cover story of Braddock.

I don't know if anyone's
made you an offer.

But I'm willing to give you
$10,000 for the negative rights.

That's more than all the
pictures I've sold put together.

That's assuming
that it's good quality.

Uh, I can't.

Why not? I've
already sold first print.

To whom?

I don't know if I should say.

Marcie, my child,
we'll buy them out.

To whom? How much?

John Reinhart. News
World Magazine.

News World Magazine.

Three days we go to press,

I'll give you $10,000
for the negative.

I really wanna
keep the negative.

With foreign rights, reprints,

it might be worth three
or four times that much.

Marcie, my darling.

We will give you a
royalty agreement.

You can have your
attorney check it out.

I'm sorry, Miss Wren,

but it's a police matter now.

I'm not even supposed
to show it to anyone.


BURKE: You have
another friend here, ma'am.


Hi. Hi.

Paula, this is Greta
Wren. How do you do?

It's nice to meet
you. How do you do?

Marcie, I do hope that
you'll change your mind.

I'll be in touch.

Wow, so that's the
famous Greta Wren.

Boy, she sure is well-preserved

for a gal that's
gotta be hitting 50.

Now, tell me about your
big score at News World.



Excuse us! Oh, my God!

Oh, you scared me.

It's all right. Sorry? What?

Hello. Hello. Um...


Uh, we're here... We're
here to see, uh, Mr. Reinhart.

Oh, I... I'm sorry.

Mr. Reinhart hasn't come in yet.

I... I just came in myself.

There's a lot of noise
in here, isn't there?

Oh, yeah. It's been
going on for weeks.

They're doing some
redecorating on the floor above.

I can't stand it.

No kidding. Now, look, uh...

Mr. Reinhart bought a picture

from a Marcie
Fletcher last night.

Who? Marcie Fletcher!

A picture. He bought
it from her last night.

I'm sorry. I don't know
anything about that.

I just got in.

We'll wait. Oh, all right.

Uh. Um, Mr. Reinhart, uh,

usually works till
about midnight.


Mr. Reinhart works
till about midnight.

I don't expect him...

We'll still wait.
We'll still wait.

All right, uh...

Yeah... Do you mind if I, uh...?

Do you mind if I do this?

Excuse me.


Excuse me.

Name's Boris.




She fainted.

This one's dead.


Ballistics says that Reinhart

was killed with the same
caliber bullet as Braddock.


Let's try the other
end of the contract:

the employer.

You got anything?

A host of contenders, captain.

We got our "Most
Likely to Succeed":

Basil Monk.

Yeah, we ran a
bank check on him.

You did what? We had
a warrant, don't worry.

You always say
you have a warrant.

It seems that Mr. Monk
hit his bank account

for 30,000 smackeroos.

So what? Guys in his class
spend that much on decorations.

It was cash, captain. Even his
accountant didn't know about it.

That and a receipt
will get you into court...

on a false arrest.


I'm gonna go shake, uh,
Basil-baby up a little bit.

Why don't you keep
checking on the catering staff.

Oh, come on.

Any clown could have
put on a black jacket

and gotten into that party.

Well, it worked
for you, didn't it?


I lost it at backgammon.

A friend and I play
here each Thursday.

Well, you must have some
kind of a special system

to drop 30 grand, huh?

Well, we don't
play for bus tokens.


You wouldn't mind
telling me the name

of this lucky friend, would you?

I think not.

You see, my crowd's rather
put off by these interrogations.

Unlike myself, of course.

Does your accountant
know about this loss?

It's such a trifle.

It's hardly enough
for a decent auto.

But plenty for a
first-class mechanic, huh?

Careful, sergeant.

That's very close
to an accusation.

But hypothetically,

to prove a charge like that,
you'd have to establish a...

A solid link between

the contractor
and the contractee.

Well, I see you've
been doing a good deal

of thinking about it.

I've always believed
in brains over brawn.

No, old sport. I'm afraid
you've got an impossible task.

What's that?

Well, whoever shot Troy Braddock

is probably in South
America by now.

Well, I wouldn't count
on that, Mr. Monk.

You see, I think that
that hit man just may have

immortalized himself on film.



Oh, uh,

by the way, your wife:

is she still out at
the beach house?

Assuming, of course,
that you're still married.

Nicole and I...

shall remain married for life.

Yours or hers?


Harvey, see the gentleman out.

We've been back to
almost everybody on that list.

I can't believe
nobody saw anything.

Well, everybody heard the shot.

Of course, they all thought
it was a champagne cork.


How many more do
we have on that list?


Great. I gotta get
loose for an hour.

For a manicure and a perm?

At 30 bucks a day, I
gotta figure out some way

they'll take that tuxedo back.


Price keeps going up.


What was the number?
Uh, it's apartment four or five.



Uh, Miss Pruitt?


Sorry. Wrong number.



Miss Pruitt, it's the police.

We'd like to come
up and talk with you.

Why, sure.

Could you give me a couple
minutes to get decent, please?

HUTCH: Fine.

Thank you.




Oh, uh, sorry. Uh, wrong number.



Uh, Miss Pruitt, this
is the police again.

Uh, just how long do you think
it will take you to get decent?

Oh, hi. Just one
more minute, okay?

I'm almost ready. I promise.

STARSKY: Thank you.

Thank you.

Something smells.

Thanks a lot.

Uh, you can come up now.


Who is it?

HUTCH: It's the
police, Miss Pruitt.

How did you get
in? I didn't ring.

With the garbage. Man.

Uh, you remember
the big spender?

Why, yes. Hi. Come on in.

I hardly recognized
you in those threads.


We have a couple of
more questions to ask you,

Miss Pruitt.

Dora, please. Dora. Dora.

That's what my friends call me.

Dora. Would you
two like some beer?

No, thank you. Uh...
Champagne maybe?

Uh, no.

I copped a bottle
from that party

we went to the other night.

Oh, you know what?

I didn't even know that you two
were cops until, uh, afterwards.

I thought that you two

were a couple of
real society swells.

Well, clothes do make the man.

Would you two like to sit
down? I got these two chairs here.

Uh... No, thank
you. Uh, Miss, uh...


Uh, we know you already
gave a statement, but, uh...

you were serving drinks right
near where Mr. Braddock was hit.

Did you see or hear anything?

Uh... no.

I did hear the
champagne popping.

But, see, I don't see too good.

I was thinking of going out

and getting some
glasses to wear,

but I don't think that it
would fit with my image,

if you know what I mean.

Uh, you wouldn't want the
guys to think that you were a...

stuck-up intellectual.

That's right.


You two boys ever wanna

uh, get together and
just kind of have a couple

laughs sometime?

I make some absolutely
beautiful lasagna.

Well, actually, I'm
a family man, Dora.

But, uh, Starsky here
is crazy about lasagna.


Well, actually, I'm, uh,
going steady right now.

Yeah, but he likes
to mess around.

Well, when you're
messing around.






What are you doing still here?

You're supposed
to be in Rio by now.

I was just about to call you.

Look, there's been a hitch. I'm
gonna need some more cash.

That is out of the question.
We've made our deal.

You agreed I'd never
hear from you again.

It's a loose end. I'm
gonna need more money.

What's this about a photograph?

They don't know what they
got. I don't wanna take chances.

Well, I can't raise
any more cash.

The police have just been
snooping around already.

I'm gonna have to
buy the negative.

It'll be about $20,000.

That's your problem.

My problems are
your problems, Monk.



There's gotta be
something on that picture.

Well, maybe it's there.
We just can't see it.

Marcie, can you make
a blow-up of this thing?

Hey, do you know how much

high polycontrast
paper sets me back?


I'll get it. How much?

Yeah, Burke.

Visitor for Miss Fletcher.

Sorry, Miss Fletcher's busy
right now. You wanna wait?

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

Don't disturb her if she's busy.

It's just a minor
business matter.

Would you tell
her that I'll call?

Greta Wren. Thank you.

Uh, Miss Wren? Uh...

Don't I know you from
somewhere? I doubt it.

I don't often forget men with
such well-honed features...

Well, I can't...

Thank you very much.

I can't exactly remember
where it was, but...

Did you ever drive a
cab in New York City?

That's where our
editorial offices are.


Well, not in this
life. Oh, too bad.

Anyway, just tell her
I'll call, would you?

Sure. Thank you so much.


Wait a second. Who was that?

HUTCH: Some lady
named Greta Wren.

I'll be right there.

HUTCH: She left.

Oh, terrific.

What's the matter? I've had it.

HUTCH: She said
she'd call you back.

She'd better.

With my News World deal blown,

she's my best bet
for a decent sale.

Two people wiped away,

you're worried
about your portfolio?

Yeah, well, if I don't worry
about it, who will? You two?

Adorable Dora.

The lasagna queen.

What's that? What?

That. MARCIE: A shadow.

Just blow up that
section, will you?

As large as you want, officer.

STARSKY: A silencer.

HUTCH: Adorable
Dora isn't so adorable.




WOMAN: Any wrong moves and
I'll wallpaper the room with you.

Now show some real smarts.
Put the lead on the bed.

Relax, lady. We're police.

And I'm Tatum O'Neal.


Now let me see
some ID. Real easy.


You got a permit
for that cannon, lady?

A permit? I can't
even get ammo for it.


Where's the lady
that was living here?

The Dorchester.
How would I know?

She moved out? Half-hour ago.

Rent was paid. I
didn't ask no questions.

Nice girl, though.

Kind of figured
her for a actress.

She had this job of the
waitress in the cafeteria,

but you should have seen her
when she got dressed up. Shee.

Right out of Vo-gue Magazine.


The lady's magazine, junior.


Did she have a wide-brimmed
hat and dressed...?

Cosmopolitan. Real cosmopolitan.

You met her? About
an hour ago at Marcie's.

Hey, wait, wait, wait, wait.
Who's gonna fix the door?

Uh, call Captain
Dobey at precinct nine.

He's great with his hands.


We checked, Marcie.

The real Greta Wren's
been in New York

for the past couple of weeks.

Oh, terrific.

So the lady that was
so interested in my work

was just an impostor?

Correction, a hired killer.
She was after the negative.



[WHISPERING] It's her.

Marcie? Marcie, are you there?

Marcie? Oh, hi. Listen,
I called my publisher,

and, uh, you can have
any deal you want.

You just name the price.

Can you meet me somewhere
and bring the negative?

I'm sorry, Greta, but I've
already sold the negative.

To whom, may I ask?

Basil Monk was
here and paid cash.

Basil Monk? Well, what
does he want with it?

I'm not quite sure,

but I think it involves some
arrangement with the police

concerning the Braddock murder.

Thank you, Marcie.


You did just fine. Now, look.

We've got two men on the
door, and a car in the street.

Just don't go anyplace.


[WHISPERS] Harvey.


Mrs. Hilton!

Hello. Hello.

Get me the police.

It's an emergency.

Hello. Hello. This
is Basil Monk.

There's someone
beside my lily pond.

Monk, M-O-N-K.

A burglar or something.

Basil Monk. You know my estate.

Come quick.






Who are you?

The white witch.

Nobody sees my face.

Who are you? Don't
you recognize me, stupid?

Don't you recognize my
voice? What do you want?

I want the negative!

What negative? I
want the negative now!

The one you got
from the photographer!

No, no, no, no! I
want it right now!

No! Don't shoot me! Stupid.

I paid you $30,000!
Leave me alone!

The negative!

Oh, no! No! No! No!











Click. [CLICKS]


Lost a little weight, Dora.

Olly, olly, in free, Mr. Monk.

Mr. Monk, in case you're
worried about your, uh, help...

Harvey and the group
we gave them the night off.

STARSKY: Speaking of which,
uh, what do you have on for tonight?

Oh, my, uh, blue bowling shirt,

my good jeans, brown sneakers.


HUTCH: Hey, hey,
hey. STARSKY: What?

Here is to Marcie
and her first...


I don't know.

Her first commercially
photographic success.

Uh-huh. And with
the whole story,

News World made her a
deal that'll make her famous.

And rich. Why aren't you
picking up the tab tonight?

I figured two guys who
practically live in tuxedos

can handle a round.

To tell you the truth, I kept
my tuxedo so long this week

they told me to keep it.

[LAUGHING] I wouldn't take
mine back for love of money.

HUTCH: Of course not.

Yeah, it's a little mangled,

but you did a
really fine repair job.

Think so? It's the
first one I ever owned.

Hey, hey, hey! Hey, Mr. Bear.

If you two guys looked
any sharper, you'd be black.

Oh. What is this?

Compliments of Huggy's Pits,

where the beer
always has a head,

and the host
sometimes has a heart.

It's a baby. All right.

Well, come on.

It's champagne.

Well, what'd you expect?

Aftershave lotion or
some other weird potion?

Nothing but the best
for my two friends.

Mr. Bear.

You forgot to
remove the price tag.

Well, I never said
it was imported.

Thank you very
much. Yes, thank you.

Let me just, heh-heh,
take the top off here and...

Oh. Wait a minute,
wait a minute. What?

Oh. We're gonna
take another picture.

Oh. A picture.

Do we want him to be in it?



STARSKY: Up, up, up.

Ho... Um...


Easy! Easy!

Hutch, come on. Cool it.


Take it easy.

Okay, smile. [CLICKS]