My name is Marlowe. Phillip Marlowe.
Occupation: private detective.
Somebody says, "Follow that guy,"|so I follow him.
Somebody says, "Find that female,"|so I find her.
And what do I get out of it?
$10 a day and expenses.
And if you think that buys a lot of|fancy groceries these days, you're crazy.
Right now, you're reading in newspapers|and hearing over your radios...
about a murder.
They call it|"The Case of the Lady in the Lake."
It's a good title. It fits.
What you've read and what you've heard|is one thing.
The real thing is something else.
There's only one guy who knows that.|I know it.
This "Lady in the Lake" business started|just three days before Christmas.
I was tired of being pushed around|for nickels and dimes...
so I decided I'd write about murder.|It's safer.
And besides,|they tell me the profits are good.
So I pounded out a story on that...
and I sent it up to the|Kingsby Publications, Incorporated...
specialists in gore.
You know, they turn out that kind of thing.
I got a letter from them|asking me to see them about it.
The letter was signed "A. Fromsett...
"Room 950, Meadson Building."
Make a note of that.
Some cases of murder start when|that door there behind you opens up...
and a fellow rushes in all covered|with sweat and confusion...
and fills you full of bad dope|about the setup.
But some cases, like this one...
kind of creep up on you|on their hands and knees.
And the first thing you know,|you're in it up to your neck.
You'll see it just as I saw it.
You'll meet the people,|you'll find the clues...
and maybe you'll solve it quick,|and maybe you won't.
You think you will? Okay, you're smart.|But let me give you a tip.
You've got to watch them.
You've got to watch them all the time.
Because things happen|when you least expect them.
"Kingsby Publications, Incorporated.
"Room 950, Meadson Building.
"Signed, A. Fromsett."
Three days before Christmas|and I haven't done a bit of shopping yet.
Well, you'd better hurry up.
- Yes?|- I'm Phillip Marlowe.
I got a letter asking me|to come up here about a story.
A Mr. Marlowe to see you.
You may go in.
No, Dick, it won't do. Not enough gore.|Not nearly enough gore.
Well, that's because|you don't see it in color.
Color or no color,|there's not enough blood.
Take it out and put more blood in.|As soon as you finish, let me see it again.
Mr. Marlowe? Oh, Mr. Marlowe.
You're here about some kind of a story,|aren't you?
Yeah, I got a letter about it|from somebody named A. Fromsett.
I'm A. Fromsett.|Adrienne Fromsett, to be precise.
Won't you sit down?
Thanks.
- Let me see, I had your story...|- You still have it.
It's underneath the magazine there|on the desk.
Thank you.
"If I Should Die Before I Live."|That's a nice title.
"By Phillip Marlowe." Nice name.
Tell me, Mr. Marlowe,|have you done much writing before?
- That much.|- Really?
- You do very well for a beginner.|- Well, it's based on an authentic case.
Is it really?
Of course, we get hundreds of authentic|cases submitted to us every week.
Why don't you print a few?
They aren't all as emotional as yours.
- Cigarette?|- Thanks.
Light.
Thank you.
Besides, you see...
people who write|usually don't know the facts...
and people who know the facts|usually can't write.
Authenticity has very little to do with it.
If people who read our magazines|knew the facts of life, Mr. Marlowe...
they wouldn't be reading our magazines.
- Oh, Mr. Marlowe?|- Yeah?
Thank you.
Have you been marooned|on a desert island...
or do you just find it|difficult to concentrate?
- A little of both.|- Really?
In that case, I must be losing my touch.
You see, editorial work is so unglamorous,|sometimes...
You run this business all by yourself?
No, Mr. Derace Kingsby|is president of the company.
I'm his principal assistant.
Tell me, Mr. Marlowe...
are there really detectives|like the one in your story...
who never lie, cheat,|or double-cross a client...
who are loyal, honest,|and never betray a confidence?
Yeah, there are a couple of dopes like that.
Good. Then your story is autobiographical.|You were writing about yourself.
You don't really want to buy my story,|do you, Miss Fromsett?
- I was about to offer you $200 for it.|- Oh, no, you weren't.
Why don't you quit being cute,|Miss Fromsett?
The real reason you had me up here|is because...
you're looking for a smooth operator|who keeps his mouth shut.
And when you read the story,|you said, "Yeah, that's my boy.
"He's dumb, he's brave, and he's cheap."|Am I right?
Well, I was about to offer you|a commission...
on a rather delicate|and confidential matter.
Why didn't you pick up the telephone|and call me...
instead of all this Mickey Mouse|about a story?
What I want you to do is this:
I want you to find Mr. Kingsby's wife...
without his knowing|you're looking for her.
She's run off with another man.
She's a vicious woman.|A liar, a cheat, and a thief.
She may even end up|in the hands of the police.
- He's had 10 years...|- Pardon me if I'm nosey, Miss Fromsett.
What makes this any of your business?
I handle all of Mr. Kingsby's affairs.
He wishes to divorce her.
She must be found|before she can be served with the papers.
Nice job you have here.
You think I'm pretty cold-blooded|about this, don't you?
I'd have used a shorter word.
- I don't like your manner.|- I'm not selling it.
I'm not selling the story, either, to you.|I'm not selling anything.
I have an allergy against getting mixed up|with tricky females...
who want to knock off the boss's wife|and marry him for themselves.
People don't talk to me like that,|Mr. Marlowe.
Maybe that's what's the matter with you.
Somebody should talk to you|like that sometime.
I'm leaving for the day, Adrienne.|Is there anything I can do?
Come in, Derry.|I'd like you to meet Phillip Marlowe.
Mr. Marlowe and I have been having|a little talk about a story he sent in.
This is Mr. Derace Kingsby,|president of our company.
Hi.
It's always nice to see|one of our writers, Mr. Marlowe.
Up to this point, Derry,|Mr. Marlowe isn't one of our writers.
He has just violently and indignantly|turned down an offer of $200 for his story.
The boys are writing these days|for a penny a word, and $200 is...
But this isn't the ordinary|blood and thunder yarn, Derry.
This has part of Mr. Marlowe's soul in it.
I would say it was worth $500,|as souls go these days.
- Well, if you say so, it's up to you.|- Thank you, Derry.
I congratulate you, Mr. Marlowe.|A writer who is also a businessman.
And a very well-known private detective.
- Detective?|- That's what makes the stuff so authentic.
So full of life and vigor and heart.|So full of...
- What would you say it was full of?|- Short sentences.
I see.
Is there anything you want|to take up with me before I go?
I don't believe so, Derry.
- Then I'll say good night, darling.|- Good night.
Mr. Marlowe, I'm glad to have met you.
I noticed you didn't do much talking|while the boss was in the office, did you?
When I made a quick $300|by keeping quiet?
We have a nasty little motto around here:
"Every man has his price."
Let us say we paid $200 for your story...
and the $300 you just made...
is a down payment|on your helping me find Mrs. Kingsby.
You don't need any help there, "darling."|Not you.
No?
Your lipstick's on crooked.
Vain female, aren't you?
Please don't be so difficult|to get along with. I need help.
Like I need four thumbs.
I wonder how it would be|to discuss this over a couple of ice cubes.
Would you care to try?
lmagine you needing ice cubes.
My, my, cozy little place you've got here.
Make yourself comfortable|while I crack some ice.
I won't be more than a minute.
- How do you like yours?|- Two lumps and cream and make it strong.
Sit down.
Thanks.
If you're going to take this case,|Mr. Marlowe...
the first person you should see|is Chris Lavery.
Who's he?
The handsome brute that Chrystal Kingsby|ran away with a month ago...
- or so we thought.|- A month?
Take him that long to get to El Paso?
Who said anything about El Paso?
Why didn't you tie it on my ear?|I'd have found it quicker.
- Why, I didn't even know that...|- You're working overtime.
I don't get it.
What's the mystery|if Kingsby's wife is in Mexico?
The mystery is that|I ran into Chris Lavery last week...
and he said he hadn't seen|Chrystal Kingsby for two months.
He's home and she isn't. No one's|seen her. She's missing. Vanished.
Wire is a phony.|Anybody could have sent it.
Why, even I could call up and clear a wire|out of El Paso if I wanted to.
- Maybe you did.|- You're very funny.
If she's really missing,|why isn't Kingsby looking for her?
I don't know.|Maybe he thinks she's off on a toot.
But a Mexican divorce,|with no property settlement...
not Chrystal Kingsby.|She'd do it right here in California.
Besides that...
Chrystal Kingsby isn't a big enough fool|to marry Chris Lavery.
Why not?
You don't marry the Chris Laverys|of this world.
You just pay their bills,|lend them all the money they need...
- then forget to ask for it back.|- You seem to know all about him.
What's that got to do with it?
Nothing. It has to do with you.|You know him well?
What do you mean?
Why are you looking at me like that?
Mr. Marlowe, if you don't think|there's a case or a mystery here...
then I've been wasting your time.|Please don't let me waste any more of it.
Perhaps you'd better go home|and play with your fingerprint collections.
Where does Chris Lavery live?
Bay City.
- Address?|- 676 Altair Street.
- At the edge of the canyon.|- And you hope he throws me into it.
One more question.
What would happen if I kissed you?
Why don't you try and see?
Do you always close your eyes when|you think somebody's going to kiss you?
What stopped you?
What's Chris Lavery like?|Broad shoulders?
- Why?|- Did you close your eyes for him, too?
Get out.
You want to marry Kingsby|because Lavery jilted you, eh?
That's not true. Get out.
Now, I'll go see the guy.
But don't try to be cute anymore.|I know you.
We'll skip the drinks.
You better get to work|and edit my manuscript.
Yes. I plan to slash the emotion|right out of it.
That's the manuscript. This is me.
Good night, sweetheart.|I'll let you know what Lavery says.
- Chris Lavery?|- Yes, sir. That's me.
I like your tan. That's very Christmassy.
Thank you, sir. That's very kind of you.
Private detective.
Well, I declare.|You fellows going from door to door now?
It's a shame business is so bad.
But I don't think|I can use a private detective.
Look, Uncle Tom, I don't need a job.|I've got one, you're a part of it.
Now that's downright interesting.
May I presume to ask you, sir,|who sent you over here?
- What is it you want?|- I'm working for Derace Kingsby.
Kingsby? Don't tell me he's down|to hiring private detectives.
- I just wouldn't believe it.|- That's pretty far down, isn't it?
- I didn't mean to insult your profession...|- We're getting along just fine.
How about going inside, or doesn't|Southern hospitality extend that far?
Well, pardon me, sir.
You come right on in.
My, my, cozy little place you've got here.
Why don't you tell me where Mrs. Kingsby|is? That way I won't be bothering you.
Mrs. Kingsby? Chrystal? Why,|I haven't seen her in a month of Sundays.
And I've never been to El Paso in my life...
if that's what|you were going to ask me next.
- You know about the telegram?|- Yes, sir, Miss Adrienne told me.
Miss Adrienne did, did she?
I'm afraid I must warn you, Mr. Marlowe,|Miss Adrienne likes to romanticize.
Anything she may have told you about me,|you must take with a grain of salt.
Chrystal Kingsby has been gone a month.
That telegram's the only trace,|and if it doesn't mean anything...
- Not as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't.|- There's nothing to do but go to the cops.
For some reason,|I don't think Mr. Kingsby would do that.
He might have to, to protect himself|in case anything's happened to his wife.
I'd like to know, what kind of a thing|do you think could have happened to her?
Chrystal Kingsby has money.
Once in a while, boys like you|have to make it the hard way.
You offend me, sir. I'm truly shocked.
Why not loosen up|and save yourself a lot of trouble?
You know plenty about Chrystal Kingsby.
A gentleman never speaks disrespectfully|of a lady.
Not even one|as lovely as Mrs. Kingsby was.
- Did you say "was"?|- Sir?
It must have been a slip of my tongue.
But to the point, lovely as Mrs. Kingsby is,|gracious as she is, charming as she is...
I don't hanker for any part of her.|Not for all the money in the world.
And if my humble opinion|is of any value to you...
the little lady may have sent that wire|for just that reason.
- To embrangle me as badly as she could.|- Embrangle you? What does that mean?
Oh, yes, I forgot.
You're a Yankee.|You wouldn't understand.
I don't think|her little scheme is going to work.
Pardon me, Mr. Marlowe,|do you have the time?
What's the matter?|Doesn't your clock work either?
All right, Marlowe.
Oh, brother,|that's a beautiful eye you've got.
Now, come on,|Lt. DeGarmot ain't gonna wait all day.
Put out that cigarette.
Tough guy, huh?
Okay, the next time we get you in here|we'll teach you some manners.
Come on, get moving.
Did you have any fun yesterday,|Lieutenant?
Tossed a private dick in the can,|if you call that fun.
Yeah, a guy named Marlowe.|They're bringing him down now.
- What did he pull?|- He got drunk in his car and passed out.
Is that him?|Looks like he ran into a brick wall.
Go on, get your stuff|from the property clerk.
- Name?|- Phillip Marlowe.
You like our jail?
Fine.
You came out of your blackout|and started slugging...
so I had to put you to sleep again.
- Fine.|- Did you sleep nice?
- Fine.|- Do you remember me at all?
Fine.
Don't you know any other words|but "fine"?
The teeth I've got, I'd like to keep.
All right, Marlowe, sign here.
Let's see if it's all here.
$18.
You ain't exactly dough-heavy, are you?
Hey, Sarge, get a load of this.|"Kingsby Publications, Inc., December 20.
If I Should Die Before I Live, has been..."
So you're a story writer, too?
The detective business|must be on the skids.
What are you trying to do,|elevate yourself?
If I Should Die Before I Live.|That's not bad.
It might happen to you.
All right, come on, wise guy,|Capt. Kane wants to talk to you.
Captain, this is Marlowe. He slept well.|He likes our jail. Everything is fine.
What's the charge, Captain?
Drunk in your car, ran up over the curb.
When the boys found you,|you were passed out cold.
Fine.
We here in Bay City|don't happen to think so.
That's right, peeper.
And the second time you get picked up|on a drunk driving rap down here...
you get a long, long time to cool off.
You don't exactly walk out free|the first time.
The only reason I'm talking to you|instead of the judge...
is that you're a private dick.|Have you got a story or not?
I went to sleep at a friend's house,|I woke up in a cell down the hall.
You're a great help. Monkeying around|down here on some kind of a case?
Sure. And my client slugged me...
carried me out, put me in my car,|ran it over a curb, poured whiskey on me...
and then went somewhere|to call the police and report a drunk driver.
- Maybe it wasn't a client.|- You're right.
It was a boy in gray named Chris Lavery,|a Southern gentleman.
Who also happens to be|a resident of Bay City.
You know, we ain't especially partial|to private cops down here.
We don't like them molesting our citizens.
So I molested him. Fine.|Lovely city, remind me to move here.
I see him on business, get almost killed,|and now I'm charged with molesting him.
You say you're down here on business?
That's what I thought.
- Who's your client, Marlowe?|- I don't reveal my clients' names.
That's very noble of you, I'm sure,|but you happen to be talking to the police.
Whether I'm talking to cops or not,|my clients' names are their business.
It's confidential,|else I wouldn't have any clients.
I suppose that private license you've got|must mean something...
or they wouldn't give it to you.
But it doesn't give you the right|to start trouble in my district...
without letting me in|on what you're after.
Any time you do,|you'll find yourself in a bad jam.
- A lot worse than this one.|- All right, DeGarmot.
Just don't forget what I said.
I don't like certain kinds of private dicks.|I never did.
I never met one yet that wasn't a crook.
Anytime, any place.
I've heard of people|that don't like certain kinds of cops.
It seems impossible, doesn't it?
How did you get in here|without being announced?
I told that girl outside|it was an emergency.
You look like an emergency.
Well, it's an old sickness,|re-occurring black eyes.
- Looks like that big ring Lavery wears.|- Yeah, he wore five of them.
You know all about him, don't you?|"Come right in, Mr. Marlowe, sir.
"Have a mint julep, sir. Yak-yak."
He had the decency to hit me|above the Mason and Dixon line.
You must be crazy. Lavery's a Swede.
Brother, is he smooth.|He missed his calling.
- But he didn't miss you.|- I'll say he didn't.
I woke up in jail this morning.
The next time I see him|I'll know what time it is.
I told you he was a phony.|Did you get anywhere with him at all?
No. He claims he hasn't seen|Chrystal Kingsby for two months.
- Right back where we started.|- Maybe this is a good place to get off.
What do you mean?
Well, what do you want for $300?|A funeral?
You were hired to find Chrystal Kingsby.
If I get casually beat up along the way,|that's all right with you, isn't it?
Grist for your mill, Mr. Marlowe.|Authentic fiction.
Would it be asking too much|to start working as a detective?
What?
Chrystal Kingsby was last seen|at Little Fawn Lake.
It's a place in the mountains|beyond Arrowhead.
Just three or four little cabins,|and this private lake that Derry owns.
It's the last place we know she was.
I'm going to write you a note|to the caretaker up there...
- A Mr. Floyd Greer to see Mr. Kingsby.|- In what connection?
- He wouldn't say.|- Tell him if he can't give you some idea...
- he can't see him.|- Yes, Miss Fromsett.
What was Mrs. Kingsby doing|up at the lake alone?
I can guess,|but I haven't been up to count the bottles.
- Here you are.|- No, I'm not going up there.
- Oh, you are.|- No, it's silly.
You said yourself it's been a month|since she was there.
What am I supposed to do?
Harness a dog team|and start mushing through the woods?
You can go up there|and talk to the people.
- They might just possibly...|- Sure, just possibly.
Ever been up in the mountains|around Christmastime?
What's the matter? Afraid of a little snow?
No, but it's just silly, that's all.
You don't work|at being a detective that way.
- He says it's about something at the lake.
Oh, show him in.
Silly, eh?
Mr. Greer.
What's all this about, Mr. Greer?
Something that happened|at the Kingsby place up in the mountains.
- Would you care to tell me about it?|- I plan to tell him.
Well, you see...
Listen, miss,|I just have to see Mr. Kingsby.
Excuse us a minute, please.|Come with me, Mr. Greer.
Express Bulletin.
We've just had a call|from our San Bernadino correspondent...
about the tragedy up at Little Fawn Lake.
- Maybe you've heard something about it.|- Tragedy? No.
Do you have a caretaker|by the name of Bill Ches?
Well, they're holding him for murder.
Murder? Bill Ches? Why, that's ridiculous.
Well, maybe it is, but his wife was found|drowned in the lake.
- Muriel?|- That's her. Muriel Ches.
How long since you've been up there,|Mr. Kingsby?
Let me see. Late last November.
And how about Mrs. Kingsby?
Would she know anything|about Muriel Ches?
- Excuse me, gentlemen.|- What would she know about murder?
- Here you are. Get up to the lake quick.|- I'm way ahead of you.
You think Chrystal Kingsby|shoved this lady in the lake...
and then took a powder out,|which is why she's missing now?
It's possible. She hated Muriel Ches.
Then you think|Chrystal Kingsby may be a murderess?
- Yes.|- And you like the idea.
Yes, I do.
Now, get up to the lake fast.|Find out all you can...
- and speak to no one but me about this.|- Yeah.
So I go up to Little Fawn Lake...
thinking all the time|I don't like this case any more...
and what I like least about it|is Adrienne Fromsett.
First she wants me|to find Chrystal Kingsby...
and then she wants me|to prove Chrystal is a murderess.
She's a sweetheart, Adrienne Fromsett is.
At the lake, I visit that little morgue|they've got up there in the mountains...
and I see Muriel Ches.
Thirty days in the water.|There isn't much left of her.
But I find out a few things|I think Adrienne might like to hear about.
So I go back to town|at 4:00 in the morning...
and I go straight to her place.
- Why didn't you telephone?|- I didn't have a nickel.
Not bad in this light.
- What did you find at the lake?|- Snow.
Who's being cute now?
You are.
There'll be an item on your bill|for bribes I spent...
finding out Muriel Ches had another name.
- What?|- Yeah, Mildred Havelend. Ever hear of her?
Muriel Ches married|your boss's caretaker...
after meeting him|in a bar in San Bernadino.
But her real name was Mildred Havelend.
And she married Ches|because she wanted a place to hide.
It seems that a tough cop was after her.
- What's this got to do with Chrystal?|- I'm coming to that.
She and Muriel, or shall I call her Mildred,|fought over a man.
What man?
The guy I was giving the $20 bills to|claimed he didn't know his name.
- But I suppose you do.|- Yeah.
I stopped beating|his brains out with money...
and started snooping for myself,|and look what I found.
"To Mildred, from Chris."
It was hidden in a sugar can|in Mrs. Kingsby's cabin.
- There could be any number of Chrises.|- Don't say a thing like that.
That's our boy Lavery.
That ties him up with two missing women,|Chrystal and Muriel.
Do you think he drowned Muriel Ches?
He would have drowned me|if there'd been any water handy.
No, I'm sure it must have been|Chrystal Kingsby.
She fought with Muriel over a month ago.|You just said so.
Muriel's been found dead,|and Chrystal's missing.
And from now on, Marlowe's missing.
- What's the matter now?|- Maybe she did it, maybe she didn't.
Give me the dough I put out for expenses|and I'll go on home.
Without finding Chrystal Kingsby?
You want me to find her|so she can be locked up?
There wouldn't be enough evidence.
Maybe you could find something else.|A gun, maybe.
Why don't you just look beautiful?
Quit worrying about guns...
and dead females, and missing ones...
and that million bucks you want to marry.
- She drank a lot, she had a violent temper.|- Start being a woman.
Quiet down long enough|to hear your heartbeat.
You might wake up|and find it's a different world.
I'm paying you|to wake up and find Chrystal Kingsby.
- I don't want to talk about that.|- I do.
Okay. If that's what you want,|I'll go on with this and see Lavery today.
- Why Lavery?|- He's in the middle, isn't he?
- You want her found, don't you?|- He doesn't know where she is.
- You went there...|- This time I'll watch his right hand.
Stay away from Lavery.|Go back to the lake. You did fine there.
Okay. But only because|you're so full of persuasion, so full of...
What would you say you were full of,|Miss Fromsett?
- My, you're backward for a detective.|- No, it's just that I'm tired playing around.
As far as the next woman in my life|is concerned, it's everything or nothing.
Then it had better be nothing.|Phone me from the lake.
- Sure.|- And remember, stay away from Lavery.
You'd be crazy to fall in love with me,|Marlowe.
Don't I know it?|Let me see if I've got this straight.
I'm not to fall in love with you|and I'm not to see Lavery.
That's right.
Good night.
It's a disgrace.|I've never seen anything like it in my life.
Just look at this place. Cigarette burns,|carpet stains, sour milk...
He left the icebox door open.|Sheer waste of electricity.
Dirty dishes in the sink.|The kitchen is filthy.
And look at those curtains.|Ever see anything so ragged?
- Would you mind...|- All I wanted was my rent and I find this.
He promised me a check,|and I didn't get it.
Is it? How far behind is he?
Three months. I told him I needed it.|I have a lot of Christmas shopping to do.
- You know how it is.|- I know how it is.
He promised me a check.
- I own this house. I'm Mrs. Fallbrook.|- I'm truly enchanted.
- Would you mind pointing that thing...|- lf you're one of his wild friends...
I'm not even one of his tame friends.|In fact, I wouldn't say we were friends.
- Then who are you, if I may ask?|- Finance company. About the car.
Do you mean he's behind|in his car payments, too?
- I don't like that at all.|- We don't like it either.
Yes, but it's much easier for you.|You can take it away if you want to.
But taking a house with furniture in it|isn't so easy.
There's apt to be bitterness.|Things get damaged.
- Sometimes on purpose.|- Did you look for him?
I have a right to, I hope. It's my house.
All I found was this gun.|I found it on the stairs.
Here, you better take it.|Men always understand guns.
It isn't loaded, is it? I certainly hope not.
I wonder|why Mr. Lavery left it on the stairs.
- He probably had a hole in his pocket.|- Is it loaded?
No, not now, it isn't.
For pity's sakes, I have oil|all over my glove.
So you looked all over the house, did you?
You're a naughty girl.|Did you look under the beds...
- and in the clothes closet?|- Why, you...
You're very insulting.|I only wanted my money.
Everybody needs money at Christmastime,|and I decided...
I think we better call the police.|Yes, under the circumstances...
- I think that's exactly what we should do.|- Mrs. Fallbrook.
Yes?
Let us stop and consider a moment.|Possibly you're being hasty.
- I don't think so. After all...|- Finding a gun doesn't mean a thing.
Everybody keeps guns.
Do they, really?
They don't always keep them|on the stairs. Lavery is a little eccentric.
Yes, he is a little eccentric...
I'm sure the Bay City police would frown|upon us disturbing him over such a trifle.
- You think so?|- Definitely.
They don't like people|molesting the citizens in this town.
- They don't?|- No.
As a matter of fact,|they are extremely sensitive about it.
- Yes, but I'm...|- Even when it comes to landladies.
And finance companies.
- They'd frown upon both of us.|- Really?
If you let me take care of this,|I'll see that you get your money.
When Ajax Finance lowers the boom|on a creditor, they lower it good.
- Good.|- They fix it so everybody gets paid.
- Do they, really?|- Yeah.
Ajax Finance is a friend of every landlord.
Now, why don't you go on|about your shopping...
and not worry about this?
Well, if... What about the gun?
Well, I'll give it to Lavery|when he comes home.
- Well, if you think that that's...|- I'm sure it is, Mrs. Fallbrook.
Now you be a good girl|and do everything you have to do.
Silly man.
- You know, you're sweet.|- Thank you, Mrs. Fallbrook.
Goodbye now.
Lovely party.
Quiet, everybody. Now,|we're going to distribute the presents.
Quiet. Now what have we, Adrienne?|There's something here for everyone.
Mrs. Bromley,|the one who's been here the longest.
For you, Mrs. Bromley,|and a merry Christmas.
- Thank you.|- And now...
Charlie. A present from Santa Claus.
And a very merry...
- Who invited him?|- I did.
Full of the Christmas spirit,|aren't you, Mr. Kingsby?
This is a private party for my staff|and my writers and my artists.
- You don't look very frostbitten.|- Disappointed?
- What are you talking about?|- Who's the present for, snowman?
You, sweetheart. And you're gonna love it.|Can we be alone?
By all means. Go somewhere|and be alone, you two. Use my office.
- And if you need anything, just ring.|- Thanks, Santa Claus.
What is this?
How'd you get back from the lake so soon?
Fast dog team.
You seem to forget|my position around here.
You couldn't have made more of a scene|out there. I hired you.
- You're to report to me confidentially.|- Yes, and I'm loving every minute of it.
What's in the package?
Why don't you open it?
- I've been looking for you, Miss Fromsett.|- Yes, Buster?
Well, this is Christmastime,|Miss Fromsett...
and I've been working here|for almost a year now.
Would you think I was awful|if I asked you for a kiss?
- Why, I...|- Go on, kiss him. You're full of charity.
Thank you, Miss Fromsett.|I've waited all year for that.
You've had your Christmas, son. Beat it.
And tell your boss not to send a boy in|to do a man's work.
- Whose is it?|- Lavery's dead.
That gun killed him.|You said sooner or later I'd find a gun.
Were you afraid of Lavery talking,|Miss Fromsett?
It's Christmastime, Miss Fromsett,|so tell the truth.
- You didn't go to the lake.|- No.
- You went to see Lavery.|- And found him dead.
I repeatedly told you not to go see Lavery.
What brand of perfume do you wear,|Miss Fromsett? Do you recognize it?
The initials are A.F.
I don't have to ask|the obvious question, do I?
I found it on the dresser|in Lavery's bedroom.
And you quickly deducted|that I left it there.
Such great, blinding brilliance,|Mr. Marlowe.
What am I to say now?|Did you bring a confession for me to sign?
No. I thought you'd like|to have your handkerchief back.
Nobody knows about it but me.
- And whoever killed Lavery.|- Yeah. Whoever killed him.
Or was he the type|who kept those kind of souvenirs?
If I say no, that makes me a murderess|or a good suspect.
- lf I say yes, what does that make me?|- Human, maybe.
What are you trying to do, Miss Fromsett,|play the bright, hard lady?
You're afraid of life, Miss Fromsett,|and people.
You don't give your real self a chance.
Come in, Mr. Kingsby.
Don't stand out there all cold|and chewed up with curiosity.
- You may as well be in on this, too.|- What's going on here?
Come view my gift of love, Mr. Kingsby.
- Is this a joke?|- Chris Lavery wouldn't say so.
To coin a phrase we confidential agents|use, he's a dead one.
- Dead?|- Did your wife own a gun, Mr. Kingsby?
- What does my wife have to do with this?|- Break it to him gently.
Derry, I hired Mr. Marlowe|to try and find Chrystal.
- You didn't.|- Yes, I thought...
You had no right to meddle.
Chrystal is to be left alone|to do what she wants. I've told you that.
No, you didn't. What you said was|you were tired to death of her.
You're not? Why didn't you say so?
I won't have you prying|into my private affairs.
The police may be prying|into your private affairs, Mr. Kingsby.
Your wife was mixed up with Lavery.
He's dead.|The evidence points to a woman.
Does she own a gun or doesn't she?
Surely you don't believe|my wife had anything to do with this?
What I believe has nothing to do with it.
Here's a gun that can be identified|and traced. It's got a serial number on it.
But maybe a woman didn't do it.|Maybe it was arranged to look that way.
Maybe you did it, Mr. Kingsby.
Don't be an idiot.|I don't go around shooting people.
Besides, I have no motive.
The police would say you had|the best motive there is: jealousy.
But let's get back to the woman angle.|Did Chrystal own a gun or didn't she?
- I don't know.|- Okay.
But I've found a dead man,|and I've got the gun that killed him.
And I was seen in that house|by the owner.
So what do you propose to do,|Mr. Marlowe?
Put that right back where I found it,|call the law and wait for them to come.
What else can I do?
Would $1,000 make you|change your mind?
- So Mrs. Kingsby does have a gun?|- Yes.
Does it look like that?
- But that $1,000 offer...|- Don't think I'm too proud to take it.
I'm just too smart to get stuck with it.
Then the situation just has to be accepted.
One thing you might bear in mind,|Mr. Kingsby.
The Bay City cops are going|to come up here and talk to you.
That'll be the first you've heard of all this.|You better remember that.
- To protect you?|- Or you. Or Miss Fromsett.
I'll tell the police|anything they want to know.
And as for you,|I don't know what you're doing in this...
but if you think you're going to harm|Chrystal, you're very much mistaken.
- Derry.|- And please understand this clearly.
If I have ever said anything endearing|to you, Miss Fromsett...
it was because I was lonely.
And I don't ever intend|to say anything endearing to you again.
Now or anytime.
So you lost me my million dollars.|Aren't you smart?
You forced a showdown|with him deliberately.
Now what am I supposed to do, reform?|Become poor but honest?
On what corner would you like me|to beat my tambourine?
Some nice warm corner|where there isn't too much traffic.
I might have known this was coming.|You and your lectures.
You don't like my morals.
You thought you'd make me lose Kingsby|and then I'd come flying into your arms.
Tell me, Mr. Marlowe, do you|always fall in love with your clients?
Only the ones in skirts.
If you think I'm gonna settle for|a cheap detective, you're sadly mistaken.
I've been pushed around too much|in this world.
There's more than one Kingsby|on the Christmas tree, Mr. Marlowe.
And I'll shake one loose yet,|don't you worry.
And as for you, you're off the case.|There isn't any case anymore.
Now kindly haul yourself out of here,|and send me a bill for your failure.
I never want to see you again.
- Merry Christmas.|- What?
I said merry Christmas, and I'm glad|to have met you, and have a good cry.
Merry Christmas!
Mr. Marlowe.
- Yeah?|- May I speak to you?
Why not?|Everybody's been speaking to me.
I don't know what your arrangement is|with Adrienne...
There isn't any anymore.
Then I'd like to make one with you.|It's about my wife.
Perhaps about myself.
I've made some mistakes in my life,|Mr. Marlowe.
But the one thing I know is,|I love my wife intensely.
She's done things she shouldn't,|but perhaps that's my fault, too.
I haven't been perfect.
No one is, Santa Claus.
I do know that|no matter how things look...
Chrystal couldn't have killed anyone.
If you could locate her for me|so I could protect her...
I'd be willing to pay you any fee you ask.
You say Lavery's murdered.
- I'd like to keep my wife out of it.|- That may be tough.
That's why I'm willing to pay you|whatever you ask. You know the case.
I'm imploring you.|Will you take the assignment?
I get soft in the head|once every Christmas.
Yeah, I'll take it.
By the way, if we're going|to keep your wife out of it...
who are we going to pin this murder on?
- What do either of us know of Adrienne?|- Don't you know anything about her?
She came here, she was very efficient,|she worked herself up to a big position.
But as to her past life,|her background, it's blank.
Like Lavery's was.
As a matter of fact, she knew Lavery.
Just how well I couldn't say, but...|Now wait a minute.
- Just when I was beginning to like you.|- You want the facts, don't you?
When it concerns a woman,|does anybody ever really want the facts?
- Are you working for me or against me?|- All right.
I'm working for you. I'm fired, I'm hired.
Happy Phil Marlowe, the boy detective.
An enchanted Christmas to you,|Mr. Kingsby.
Where are you going?
To a party with the Bay City cops.
Don't you know enough not to handle|a weapon found at the scene of a crime?
No.
Smart guy, aren't you, Marlowe?|Well, this time you're in a jam. A bad jam.
What's your alibi?|Haven't you thought of any yet?
I've already told you,|this Mrs. Fallbrook was here before me.
- It could have been her.|- It could have been pixies, too.
It could have been you.|You said you'd come back and get Lavery.
- Not in those words.|- But in that tone.
Last time I saw you, I told you|not to start trouble in my district...
without letting me in|on what you were after.
- The coroner's on his way down.|- Good.
- Finding a corpse a crime?|- In this town, yes.
I knew a little about this dead guy, Lavery.|He was quite a chaser.
- What of it?|- The whole setup indicates a dame.
You know what these private eyes|work at, divorce stuff.
All right, who are you working for?
And don't give me that baloney|about protecting a client.
My client's name is Derace Kingsby.|Runs a string of magazines.
His wife ran out on him|about a month ago...
from a place he has up in the mountains|called Little Fawn Lake.
Chris Lavery was supposed to be the guy|Kingsby's wife ran off with.
Yeah? You guys go back to work|and call the dispatcher.
I'm gonna have a talk|with a Mr. Kingsby and his missus.
It might be tough talking to Mrs. Kingsby.|She's missing.
- Missing?|- Yeah. The last two months.
Make a note of that.|We'll get a Teletype out on her.
This is getting interesting.
- All right, you guys, go on.|- And keep your hands off things.
I came here day before yesterday|to ask Lavery if he knew where she was.
And for my pains, I landed in the can,|as you may remember.
We remember, peeper.
What was Lavery's story|about Kingsby's wife?
He said there was nothing to it.|So I made a trip up to Little Fawn Lake...
because something peculiar|happened up there.
They found a drowned woman in the lake.
It turned out to be|a dame named Muriel Ches.
I don't want any part of that. Let's|confine ourselves to what went on here.
Nothing went on here. I came to see|Chris Lavery today and he was dead.
Brother, you're a great help.
This Muriel Ches had an anklet that was|given to her by somebody named Chris.
- So what?|- So you figure it out.
She's dead, and the corpse we have here|is named Chris.
I see. Any little thing that'll tie two deaths|up together makes a bigger package.
And on a pretext like that,|you go through the joint...
handle the gun,|collect or steal anything you can...
and finally get around to calling us.|Well, I don't buy it.
What do I care|about a drowned dame in a lake?
I got a body here|and that's enough for me.
That's all that's in my jurisdiction.
What's the play, Marlowe?|You trying to cloud the issue?
- Who are you covering up for?|- Anybody here?
That's Ed. He's coroner this week.|Merry Christmas, Ed.
But it isn't Christmas yet, you know.|Not yet.
What have we got this time?|And where's the customer located?
- Upstairs. I'll take you up.|- Good. Man or woman?
Man.
You stay here. You come with me.
It's going to be a little tough|to find out when he was killed.
He was in the shower.
Some bright mind thought of|leaving the cold water trickling on him.
You looked kind of interested|when I mentioned Little Fawn Lake.
Ever been up there?
We ask the questions, peeper.
And when I mentioned the lady in the lake,|you looked still more interested.
You heard me.
Ever hear of anybody|named Mildred Havelend?
There was a fellow there a few weeks ago|looking for Mildred Havelend.
He acted like a cop, I was told.
A tough cop with bad manners, like you.
What's Mildred Havelend got to do with it?
She and Muriel Ches were the same girl.
She changed her name because she was|hiding out from this tough cop.
Does it add up?
No.
I think it does.|Because Muriel Ches was from Bay City.
And they gave me|a pretty good description of that cop.
I think this female had a shady past,|and you knew something about it.
Now I'm getting somewhere.
You stick your nose into my business,|you'll wake up in an alley with the cats.
What did she do, this female,|bump off somebody down here?
Is that what you had on her?
All right, Marlowe, cut it out.|What's going on here?
He got cute.
Striking an officer, resisting arrest,|and murder.
All on Christmas Eve.
Let's wrap you up real pretty, shall we?
Take you right down to headquarters.|Give me your hands.
I tell you this, the only reason|I'm giving you a chance to talk...
is that the coroner reports|despite appearances...
Lavery was killed last night.|This doesn't let you out, though.
I'll say it doesn't, peeper.|Talk up to us in that big voice of yours.
- I don't talk with these on.|- That's what you think.
- Why you cheap little...|- DeGarmot!
- That's enough. Get out of here.|- Let me work him over a little.
Go on. Take the night off.
Sure.
- There, that fix it?|- Here's the dope, Captain.
- Disappointed?|- Why?
My alibi checks.
It's right there in your hand, isn't it?
I didn't leave Little Fawn Lake|till after midnight.
- Right.|- I stopped at Red's Super Service Station...
halfway down the mountain and got gas.
I stopped in at San Bernadino|at the Dinner Bell Diner.
The waitress with the big eyes|remembered me.
It was 2:00 a.m. by that time.|I was the only customer.
From what she says,|she'll always remember you.
- What about Mrs. Fallbrook?|- She's out of town in Las Vegas, gambling.
- The telephone company's locating her.|- Telephone company's doing what?
Trying to locate her.|To check his story of having seen her.
This happens to be a case of murder.
I know, Cap,|but it also happens to be Christmas Eve.
Get up to Las Vegas and bring her back.
- Yes, sir.|- You'll love her, she's charming.
Mind if I go now, or do you want me|to do card tricks, too?
There's still the charge|of striking an officer, Marlowe.
That'll keep you around, and I don't think|you'll be doing any card tricks either.
You funny guys kill me. Yes?
Hello, Elaine. How are you, sweetheart?
What?
Yes, little dumpling, darling,|I know it's the night before Christmas.
Yes. I'll be home to help you|fill up your stocking.
I am always.
Indeed I do. All right. What?
You do? By heart?
Yes, go ahead. Say it for me.
No, wait a minute, honey. It goes:
"The stockings were hung|by the chimney with care
"In hopes that St. Nicholas soon"
What?
St. Nicholas?
Why, that's Santa Claus, dear. Yes.
All right, honey.|Daddy'll be home right away. Bye.
Before you rush out, Captain, tell me...
did you ever hear of a female|named Mildred Havelend?
No.
The real name of the woman|found drowned in the lake.
- Why don't you ask DeGarmot about her?|- Why should I?
'Cause he knew Lavery and he knew her.|And they're both dead.
I think DeGarmot could throw|a lot of light on the subject.
- That's a big statement, Marlowe.|- Why do you think he slapped me around?
- Because you hit him.|- Not until I had to.
There's something from the past here|that we know nothing about.
I intend to do some finding out|on my own tonight.
You can, too, by talking to DeGarmot.
You know what you're doing, don't you?
You're practically forcing on me|the rottenest job a police official can have.
Investigating a man|in his own organization.
Listen, Marlowe,|there've been two deaths.
- And if they're connected...|- They're connected all right.
- lf they are, I'll find out.|- And I'll be glad to help you.
I'll work with you in any way you want.
- Why? Are you that sore at DeGarmot?|- No.
Because I've got a personal interest|in finding Chrystal Kingsby.
All right.
- Here's what you do.|- Yeah?
Call the Sergeant|and get him to give you a nice, quiet cell.
I thought you were on the level.|But you want me out of the way...
so you and DeGarmot can fix it|any way it suits you.
I resent that.|If it wasn't Christmas Eve, I'd...
Okay, your murder alibi checks.
The charge of taking a punch at DeGarmot|is dismissed.
Do me a great big favor|and get out of here.
Kane talking.
Hello, darling.
Well, I just talked to Elaine.
Yes, dear, I know what night it is.
I am, am I?
Be Santa Claus again?
Get out before I decide|to go to work on you myself.
What? It should still fit.
But I don't think we'll need|the pillow this year.
My stomach...
And dear, do me a favor, will you?
Comb out the beard for me.
Will you get out of here, Marlowe?
I'm sorry, dear.
You know I can't talk|to two people at once.
I wouldn't say that about you. No.
Who said you can't dance?
You do a terrific rumba, baby. Just terrific.
Really terrific. I mean terrific.
- Can I use your phone?|- Just a minute.
- I'd like to use one of your phones.|- Sure. And merry Christmas to you, too.
Just like I was saying, baby, that rumba.
Margaret didn't say that.
No. You're crazy. I never did.|I tell you, I didn't.
Well, maybe one day|when there was some mistletoe there.
Am I a dope? Oh, I am.
Los Angeles Chronicle.
Give me the night editor.
Dugan speaking.
Hi, Dugan. This is Marlowe.
Merry Christmas, you lug.
Same to you. Dugan, remember|that favor you said you owed me...
the time we shook down the guy|with the loaded dice?
What do you want? My girl or my car?
I want you to dig me up whatever you can|on a female named Mildred Havelend.
From Bay City. And call me at my hotel.
Mildred Havelend.
in about an hour.
Thanks, Dugan.
Laguna? This time of year? No.
Who wants to live with pigeons?
Thanks for the use of the phone.
Oh, yeah.|Did I wish you a merry Christmas?
Okay. The crack still goes.|Nuts. Who can afford Palm Springs?
What's the matter with Anaheim?
Come in.
I didn't leave that handkerchief there.
You don't believe I did, do you?
You still worrying about it?
I read a story once about a killer...
who left clues around|to point to somebody else.
That was a story.
- I wouldn't kill anyone, Marlowe.|- No...
just a nice, clean campfire girl.
I'm all mixed-up tonight.
If it turns out that you are the little girl|who held the hot and smoking pistol...
you're going to be really mixed-up.
- You think I'm that vicious?|- Yes.
I thought you liked me.
The girl I like won't be editing|a string of crime magazines...
or looking for a quick million bucks...
or trying to hang a murder|on another woman.
What will this girl do?
Take care of me.
Unglamorous, isn't it?
- Buy me a drink.|- No.
I have business.
There's a time and place for everything.
- This is Christmas Eve.|- I told you I have business.
This is it now.
Got the dope on Mildred Havelend.
about a year and a half ago.
Just a minute. Would you mind leaving?
- I thought you were off the case.|- Oh, no.
Marlowe never sleeps|till all's well with the world.
- Who's your client now?|- I never reveal a client's name.
- It's Derry, isn't it?|- You fired me.
And I have to eat, don't I? Blow me a kiss|and close the door gently as you leave.
I'll call you if I need you.
Drexel. 3-3-3...
9-1.
Okay, Dugan.
for a doctor in Bay City named Almore.
that's the doc's wife, was found dead.
Cop named DeGarmot investigated.
- Verdict: suicide.|- What happened to Mildred Havelend?
She disappeared right after that.
Anybody figure|Florence Almore was murdered?
Raised a stink at first.
Somebody scared them silly.
Somebody has, has he?|Where do they live?
Eugene Grayson.
Thanks, Dugan.|I'll go and have a talk with him.
You Mr. Grayson?
We've told the police everything.|We want to be left alone.
- Who is it, Eugene? Is it Mr...|- Who are you?
Good evening, Mrs. Grayson.|I'm sorry to bother you.
My name is Marlowe.|I'm a private detective.
- I want to talk to you about your daughter.|- Haven't we had enough?
Can't you smell the cigar smoke?|He was here for an hour. One solid hour.
We don't want to talk anymore.
All we ask is to be left alone.|By all policemen.
- But I want to help you.|- Yes. He does, too.
I don't know why you are here,|Mr. Marlowe, but I must ask you to go.
My wife is sick.
We don't want to talk to anyone.
He thinks she committed suicide,|doesn't he, that cop that was here? I don't.
I think your daughter was murdered|and Mildred Havelend murdered her.
Get out.
I think he covered up for her|and wants to keep you quiet.
Did you hear her? Get out.|We don't want any more trouble.
We don't want to talk to any more|policemen. We're tired, Mr. Marlowe.
We've had enough of this.|We've had all of it we can stand.
We don't want to go through any more.|We just want to be left alone.
I tell you, we're tired, and I'm sick.|Please go away.
I must insist that you go.
I'm sorry you won't talk, Mr. Grayson.|Good night.
DeGarmot was a nice, sweet boy.
He left me there, soaked in alcohol.
Went to a telephone and called the police.
Said he was a citizen|who wanted to report a drunk driver.
But I got a break.
I didn't sleep quite as long as he thought|I was going to.
And what woke me up was a guy who|had been over-celebrating Christmas...
and was caroling a little off-key.
So I watched him|to see what my next move was.
He might come in handy.
- Anybody in there?|- No. He was alone.
Looks like everybody's celebrating tonight|except us.
He won't do any more celebrating|for about six months.
- Why, is he hurt?|- No. Just passed out.
Here's his wallet.
Phillip Marlowe. Private dick.
A plum pudding, all cooked up nice for us.
Come on. Let's get him out of here.
He's going to feel great in the morning.
Just a second|while I get this license number.
Call headquarters|and tell them to send out a tow car.
And that we're bringing in a Mr. Marlowe.
Car 71. Calling headquarters.
Come in, please.
What was that?
Number, please.
Drexel.
3-3-3-9-1.
Your number, please.
- Thank you.
Deposit 15 cents for five minutes, please.
When you've finished your call...
Shut up and get me my number.
Hello.
This is Marlowe.
- So you've changed your mind.|- I told you I'd call you if I needed you.
I'm in a phone booth at a gas station.
On the South Road. About two miles out.
Left side of the road. Come and get me.
Come and get...
What's the matter, Marlowe?
I'll be right there as fast as I can make it.
Hello?
Christmas morning.
time on any Christmas Eve in years...
death has taken a holiday.
of traffic accidents reported...
but none which have ended in a fatality.
- You woke up.|- Yeah. I wish I hadn't.
You're in terrible shape.|Take a look at yourself.
Oh, brother.
- "'Twas the night before Christmas"|- I'm going to fix you.
"And all through the house"
- It's going to sting terribly. Hold still.|- All right.
"Not a creature was stirring"
- Not even Marlowe.|- Hurt much?
No.
Not much. How did I get here?
Did you ever try to pull anybody|out of a telephone booth?
Luckily, a sailor came along|and helped me.
He thought he was going to have a date|with me later, but... What's the matter?
Don't get any cute ideas.
The doorman brought you up.|He undressed you.
Was he a nice doorman?
Yes, he was quite tender with you|as doormen go.
Doesn't he think anything|of dragging bruised, unconscious men...
up here at this time of the night?
Don't you know better|than to drive after drinking?
You reeked of whiskey.
I told him you were drunk|and had fallen down.
Why? Afraid he'll call the police?
No. I love policemen.
I love a policeman named DeGarmot.
- Does he love you, too?|- Like a brother.
If he catches me, I'll go to the clink.|He's a fine young man, this DeGarmot.
- What's he got to do with this?|- That's what I keep asking myself.
How did he know I was going to visit|Florence Almore's folks?
He was there before me.
And he was there waiting|when I came out.
Why?
Florence Almore?
Female who committed suicide|a year and a half ago.
- I wonder if Kane...|- Quit wondering, Marlowe.
Get out of it.
Why work for Derry or anybody else?
It's none of your affair. Stop getting|involved in other people's murders.
Why be a private detective at all?
Why eat? You only get hungry again.
You don't have to make a living that way.
If I Should Die Before I Live?
That wasn't for nothing.
No. That was for $500, and you got|part of my soul with it, and my services.
I wish you'd make up your mind|what you want me to be.
I have made up my mind.|I could help you write.
I know all the little tricks.
We'd be fine together.|In everything, we'd be fine together...
if only you just...
Just what?
I don't know.
You don't think I'm honest.
I want you to know that I am.
It's that, well...
I've been a long time wanting things...
thinking I wanted things.
What do you think you want now?
It's not a matter of just thinking I want it.
I want to take care of you.|Maybe it isn't glamorous. I don't know...
but I want to be your girl.
That's what I want for Christmas.
- Don't laugh at me.|- I'm not laughing.
No, you're not, are you?
You close your eyes, too,|don't you, darling?
It's just like you said that day.
We're both alike. In everything we're alike.
We'll be fine together. We will, won't we?
This is what the world is really like,|isn't it?
Yeah.
Why are you frowning?
Did you bump that guy off?
How can you say that?|Why are you so suspicious?
- I got to try and think of everything.|- Don't. Think of me.
Everything is going to be different now.|I'm wiping the slate clean.
- Nobody ever wiped murder clean.|- Who's trying? I'm not guilty of anything.
- Quit being a detective.|- I can't till this is over.
- I thought...|- Sure.
You're my girl.|What's that got to do with it?
You're in love with me.
I might have killed someone, but it doesn't|matter, it has nothing to do with it.
Ever since I was a little girl, I've been|reading in books about love like this...
but I never believed it.
Two people, who in spite of everything...
I was going to be the bright girl|with big-league boots...
and a glass heart, stepping over people.
It must have been somebody else.
I'm gonna start all over again.
Fromsett, crying?
I always do on Christmas Eve, and each|time I fall in love. It's a Fromsett tradition.
Where do you usually|spend Christmas Eve?
In a bar. Where do you?
In a nightclub. Here we are.
- Better for both of us.|- Yeah.
Darling, you're tired.|You've got to get some sleep.
I wish I could tell you how I feel.
You mean you've got that|"I'm scared, but it's wonderful" feeling?
Yes.
- Scared, but...|- Yeah, scared.
- You're not scared of me?|- I don't know.
I'm glad. It proves how you feel.
You see? I'm glad about everything.|I've never felt this way before.
You go to sleep now.
- Good night.|- Good night.
Do you like it?
Yeah, it's beautiful.
It's your Christmas present, darling.|Be right with you.
It really looks very good on you.|Awfully glad you like it.
- I feel kind of silly.|- Why?
Well, I didn't get you anything.
The truth is|I didn't get you anything, either.
I bought it for Kingsby.
Well, why don't you say something?
I don't know what to say,|except you didn't have to tell me that.
I know I didn't.|But I didn't want to start out with any lies.
I hate liars. That's the reason|I left the tag in the pocket.
If we do start this new thing together, this|life, what are we going to use for money?
Well, we can start with the story|you wrote and go on from there.
- We'll make lots of money.|- You mean from what I write?
Why not?|Together, we could own the world.
There you go again,|wanting to own the world.
No. All I really want to own is you.
That's better. At least it's simpler.
May I own you?
Sure, and if you're the guilty girl,|where does that leave me?
Besides,|I've got another worry this morning.
What other worry, darling?
They'll discover in Bay City about now...
that that drunk they found|in my car last night isn't me...
and DeGarmot will go crazy.
He'll start on the prowl, looking for me|with a cold howling heart of hate...
and a gun full of bullets to try and stop me|from talking about what I don't know.
Don't frighten me, darling.|Not on Christmas morning.
I don't want to think about it, not today.
Let's give ourselves today.
And by the way, Marlowe...
- Yeah?|- Merry Christmas.
"'Merry Christmas, Bob Cratchit.
than I've given you in many a year.
and buy another coal scuttle...
"'before you dot another "I, "Bob Cratchit. '
He did it all and infinitely more.
he was a second father.
as good a master, and as good a man...
And it was always said of him...
how to keep Christmas well...
the knowledge.
"May that be truly said of us, and all of us.
'God bless us, every one. "'
Then, when I was 16, I had to go to work.
Counter girl at a soda fountain.|Peanut butter sandwiches and hot coffee.
If all the malted milks I served|were laid end to end, Marlowe...
- Do we answer it this time?|- No. More malted milk.
I worked there for a year.
Then, when I was 17...
Adrienne, it's I. Open the door.
- Kingsby. Do you want to see him?|- He's your boss.
No, he's yours.
All right. Let him in.
What's the idea?
Are you hiding for someone?|I've been phoning you for hours.
I thought you might know|where I could find Marlowe.
I do. Who's that?
Where have you been?|I've searched everywhere for you.
Your office, hotel room,|three different jails.
They're very sore at you at Bay City jail.|They told me you were there.
Then they brought out a different man.
Somebody's impersonating you.|They're looking for you.
- They happen to follow you here?|- Yes.
That is, two detectives|have been tailing me all day.
I go in and out of places,|they always wait outside in a car.
That's fine. Why didn't you invite them up?
I don't know what your troubles are,|but I have my own.
All right, let's hear yours.
Well, the reason I've been trying|to find you is...
It may seem ridiculous,|but Chrystal, my wife, she's in Bay City.
How do you know?
She telephoned me. She's in awful trouble.
The police are after her, and she needs|money. She sounded desperate.
Naturally, I want to help her|until we can get lawyers...
If she wants money,|why don't you take it to her?
With two detectives following me? No.|They're not going to find her through me.
- You're going to take her the money.|- I am, am I?
I have $500 here,|all the cash I could raise on a holiday.
It's worth anything to me to get it to her.
You've used that word "anything"|a couple of times. How much is anything?
You'll get $5,000 either way.
- That's a deal, Santa Claus.|- What's a deal?
I don't want you|going down there to see her.
I don't want you even near her.
She's trouble.|Two people have been killed already.
Maybe she's got some answers.
I don't want you near her.|Something might happen to you.
Should I just stay here|and let the cops come after me?
- We'll figure a way out.|- And end up where?
In a gutter somewhere|with my teeth bashed in...
smelling of whiskey I never drank?|Running down alleys?
The only way out is to see Chrystal|to solve things.
- Let somebody else solve it.|- And there's the money.
$5,000, just in case my typewriter|breaks down and I can't write stories.
Just in case New York gets cold|this winter.
$5,000. It's enough money to start on.
And more than enough to bury you with|if you're killed.
I said once, everything or nothing.|This is it.
No, it isn't it. I won't let you go.|We'll leave town, go anywhere.
Still trying to pull me off it?|Trying to make me duck the windup. Why?
- Any personal reasons?|- Don't be ridiculous.
I'm not. If I ran away and never found out|the answer to the rest of this...
I'd never know for sure about you,|would I?
All right, then.
Where do I meet her?
She'll be near a cocktail bar|called The Peacock Room...
on the main boulevard near 14th Street.|Here, wear this. She knows it.
She'll go there every half-hour.
You'd better leave|and take the detectives off me.
Take them on a tour of Chinatown.
Keep them following you|while I go to Bay City.
Right. I got it. Good luck, Marlowe.
Marlowe. Wait a minute.|You realize, of course, it may be a trap...
that Kingsby himself has set for you.|Please don't go.
Everything or nothing.|I'm going to trust you.
If you're not on the level,|I get a face full of bullets.
- lf you are, I'll see you down there.|- What?
I want 10 minutes alone|with Chrystal Kingsby.
And then I want you to show up with|Capt. Kane and one or two of his boys.
It's the chance I have to take.|What I'm going to try to do is this.
Make Chrystal take me|to wherever it is she's hiding out...
hotel room, apartment, wherever it is.
How will we know where it is?|How will we find you?
Quoting a girl named Fromsett,|I read a story once...
how a detective carried rice in his pocket.|As he walked along, he distributed it...
kernel for kernel, and left a very nice trail.
Why don't you let Kane arrest Chrystal?
We'd never get anywhere.|She'd be locked up and so would I.
- Are the keys in your car?|- Yes.
I'll go down the back stairs to the garage.
Goodbye, Miss Fromsett.|You've been charming company.
This is the payoff, isn't it?
Say that again about...
the "I'm scared,|but it's wonderful" feeling.
I'm scared, but it's wonderful.
Goodbye.
- Give me the money.|- You get right to the point, don't you?
You've got the scarf, haven't you?|Don't give me any conversation.
Slow down.|I want to talk to you, Mrs. Kingsby.
There's nothing to discuss.
Hand over the money and leave me.
It's not that simple.|Where are you hiding out?
What makes it your business?
An envelope I have in my pocket|with $500 in it.
A measly $500. That would be him.
That's all he could scrape up|with the banks closed.
Do you want it|or just want to crab about it?
Give me that money.
Nice job of hair dyeing. Of course,|I never saw it blonde, Mrs. Kingsby.
Have your hopes.
You talk my language, Mrs. Kingsby.|Let's go.
- All right. Come on.|- Sure you haven't been spotted?
As sure as I know how to be.
- How far is it?|- Not far.
- Close the door.|- Sure.
I'm afraid you're never going to get to see|my hair blonde.
Too bad, isn't it?
I can stand it.
Sit down.
There.
- Nice to have a pair of them, isn't it?|- A pair?
A pair of little guns.
Little guns that fit into purses or pockets|and kill just the same as big guns.
Why don't you take it out?
Yes, it is nice, isn't it?|Now if you'll just hand over...
You did the landlady,|the Mrs. Fallbrook character, very well.
You weren't bad as the finance company.|"The friend of every landlord."
The cops say Lavery was killed|the night before we met in his house.
What I can't figure is|what you came back for that morning.
Money, mister. I was looking for money.|I needed it.
A little careless about money, aren't you,|for a girl who's so careful about murder?
Give me that money.
You don't really think|I've got the dough in my pocket, do you?
- Think of my trading position.|- Where is it? In your car?
No. It's in my hotel room.|Under the mattress.
- You're a liar. He promised...|- Take a look for yourself.
Don't be afraid.|I don't carry a gun when I call on ladies.
- lf you haven't got that money, l...|- What will you do, shoot me?
- Don't you think I will?|- Sure I do, Mildred.
- What?|- I said sure, I think you will.
- You shot Lavery, didn't you?|- No.
You don't think|I believe you're Chrystal Kingsby, do you?
Mr. Kingsby believed it when you talked|on the phone, didn't he, Mildred?
You're Mildred Havelend.|You murdered the Almore woman.
She was asphyxiated in her car.|It was an accident.
The lady in the lake, instead of being you,|is Chrystal Kingsby. Is that an accident?
Yes. Chrystal and I traded clothes|one night. She had on mine, I had on hers.
We went across the lake to see|if we could fool my husband, Bill Ches.
And Chrystal fell in the lake|and sank to the bottom?
- Yes, and I didn't know what to do.|- So you ran away to El Paso.
- I didn't at all.|- You met Lavery in El Paso.
His death was an accident, too?
- He took a gun into the bath with him.|- I don't know.
He was the only one who knew|the real identity of the lady in the lake.
Wasn't he, Mildred?
I'm looking for that money, mister, and|you'd better have it right here. Stand still.
What for? A little.25 caliber|with the safety catch on?
Drop it. Come on, sister. Drop it.
Never kill a man|when he's looking at you, Mildred.
I'm frightened. I'm so frightened.
Get me out of here.
Please get me out of here.|Take me with you anywhere.
I'll bet that went big with Lavery.
- It went big with DeGarmot, too, didn't it?|- Who?
The boy who covered up for you|on the Almore case.
Every time you look at a man,|he falls over.
You misunderstand me.|You just don't understand me at all.
I got into trouble,|but I really am a nice girl.
You're a lovely girl.
You know something?|You really would like my hair blonde.
It's really nice blonde. I really am all right.
You've got to understand|that I really am all right.
Being a detective,|you can understand how a girl...
even if she is nice,|can get into a lot of trouble.
I am nice, aren't I?
Sure, I'd like to play dolls with you.
That's the cops, Mildred.
I invited them up|to meet Chrystal Kingsby.
They're going to be quite surprised|to see you, even happily surprised.
Come in, Adrienne,|and bring the gallant Captain with you.
Get them up, Marlowe.
Kill him.
Hello, honey.
Won't you speak to me, honey?
Don't look so surprised.|That wasn't me that fell in the lake...
He doesn't like you anymore, Mildred.
Oh, yes, he does. Don't you, honey?|You weren't expecting him, were you?
He was expecting the other cops, not you.
He's gonna kill you, Mildred.
No, he isn't.
Are you, honey?
It's been a long time since he saw you.
Ever since you double-crossed him|and ran away...
and changed your name to Muriel and|married some poor little guy named Ches.
- He's been looking for you.|- Have you, honey?
Why don't you laugh like he's laughing?
- Kill him and let's get out of here!|- No. You're not going any place, Millie.
You forget I'm a cop.
People aren't safe with a woman like you|in the world. They have to be protected.
I never expected to find you here tonight.|I thought you were dead.
I wish you were,|because you're a murderess.
This time, dead's the way|I'm gonna leave you.
You're out of your mind.
Yes, I was, on the night Florence Almore|died and you made a sucker out of me.
Even after you ran away, I still loved you.|You made a clown out of me, a bad cop.
But tonight's the end of it, and of you.
Don't do it. She's the killer.|Don't get yourself involved.
- Take her in if you're a good cop.|- I don't want you talking.
The Almore case won't come up.
They'll convict her for Chrystal's|murder or Lavery's. You'll be clear.
I'll be clear.
This is her gun.|If both of you die by it, I'll be clear.
She shot you. You got the gun|and shot her. But after that, you died.
I'll be clear|because I'll be the officer investigating it.
- DeGarmot, you're a fool.|- No, I'm no fool!
You said something|about being a good cop.
I'll be one after tonight.|I'll be the best cop in the world.
Regular, they'll be able to set their clocks|by me. Don't do that to me, peeper!
You'll crawl off some other direction.
Now tonight, you're both going,|both of you.
And after tonight, I'm gonna do everything|that everybody else does and be clean.
- She isn't going to hurt anybody anymore.|- No.
- She's all through killing.|- No.
Please. Please wait.
Don't, honey.
We were going to be a guy and his girl,|that's the way you said.
- I remember those very words.|- Yeah. I remember everything.
All our dreams can come true|if you'll only just...
Please, I love you.|Remember, I'm your girl!
First you cover up a murder for her,|and then you kill her.
It doesn't make sense, does it?
It doesn't make sense, does it?
- Some things don't.|- Petticoat fever?
- Yeah, we all get it, peeper. We all get it.|- I had petticoat fever myself.
I took a chance and lost.
When you walked in that door instead|of Kane, a lot of things suddenly ended.
I'm scared, but it isn't wonderful anymore.
I'll say you lost.
My drunk drive frame didn't stick,|but this one will.
How does it feel dying in the dirty middle|of somebody else's love affair?
I don't want to seem selfish,|but I'm thinking of my own.
Sure, I followed the rice here.|Thanks very much.
I followed it and kicked it into the street|so nobody else could.
So don't expect any friends or relations.
- How did you know about it?|- How do you suppose? Your girl, Adrienne.
- That's a lie!|- How else do you think I'd know?
How does it feel on you?
That was a cheap gag, that rice.
But that's the way all private dicks end up.|A last cheap trick. A double-cross.
You're in the some boat that I am,|but you're going to be in it dead.
I never thought you'd get here, Kane.
There's nobody back of me, Marlowe.
You think I'd turn my head|and let you jump me?
Be careful, Kane.|That gun of his is pointed right at me.
Cut it out, will you?|That "look at the birdy" gag.
You better get him with the first slug,|or he'll get me.
Shut up!
Are you all right?
Yeah. I'm all right.
Been here a lot sooner,|but DeGarmot messed up your trail of rice.
- You got the story on all this, Marlowe?|- Yeah, I got the story.
- All right, let's have it.|- I'll write it.
I'll see that you get the first copy,|fresh out of the typewriter.
- What about her?|- That's Mildred Havelend.
She murdered the Almore woman,|Chrystal Kingsby, and Chris Lavery.
- And he killed her?|- Yeah.
He had a wonderful motive.|He was in love with her.
As for Adrienne, there was only one hitch.
DeGarmot heard her telling Kane|where I was, so he got to me first.
Those things happen sometimes.|But Adrienne...
- May I come in?|- Yes, come in.
- Have you got the tickets?|- Yes, to New York. One-way.
- Are you scared?|- Yes, but it's wonderful.