Scandal Sheet (1952) Movie Script
I know how you feel, lady.
Just take your time
and tell me what happened.
He had this meat ax, her blood all over it.
My brother-in-law had it.
Blood all over his hands, all over his shirt.
I can't talk about it, Officer.
I know it's rough, lady,
but I have to have the facts.
He comes staggering out in the hall.
He says, "I did it. Call the cops."
And then he...
Snap it up, Captain.
Lieutenant Davis just blew in.
What's he going to do, Officer?
- I'm not a cop, lady.
- But you said...
All I said was,
"I had to ask you some questions."
I'm from the Express.
You made me go through all that.
Why, you're not decent! You're not human!
- Sorry, lady. All part of the job.
- Well, well, Lieutenant Davis.
- Say, this must have been a homicide.
- Hi, Lieutenant. Wait till you hear it.
- A messy one.
- You keep pulling stuff like this, McCleary,
and so help me, if it's the last thing I do,
I'll run you in! Now, that's a warning!
This is KL-75263. Get me Plaza-52099.
You know, that wasn't a bad-Iooking dame.
Too bad the guy used an ax on her head.
Spoiled some pretty pictures for me.
Hey, Mark, have you put on the gloves
with those stockholders yet?
Hi. No, I'm just taping up my hands.
Well, you can tell them we got
another neat and gory one coming up.
Hatchet murder. Lower East Side tenement.
Wrapped up an exclusive interview
with an eyewitness.
You got plenty of art?
Yeah. Biddle grabbed all he could
of the body.
A dame, very messy.
Got a great hysterical close-up of her sister.
I'll even write the caption for you.
"I seen him with a bloody meat ax."
Good. With that, I can sell papers.
Give it to rewrite and we'll get it in the final.
Hold on. What do you want?
Mr. Madison called down
from the boardroom again, Mr. Chapman.
You hear that?
I'm letting them stew in their financial juices.
Well, don't overdo it. I like this job.
You've never gone backwards
with me before, have you, kid?
If we leave here, we'll bounce into
a bigger setup. I'll see you when you get in.
As one of the largest stockholders
in this corporation,
I would like to know
why the New York Express,
once a distinguished
and respected newspaper,
has been allowed to become
a cheap and depraved publication.
Why has an editor been allowed
to turn a decent journal into this?
A disgusting tabloid!
Pandering to the passions
of the base morons!
I demand an explanation, Frank Madison.
Well, Mrs. Rawley, I...
In defense of Mark Chapman, I...
Mr. Madison, I'd like to handle
my own defense, if you don't mind.
Just as you say, Mark.
Mrs. Rawley, I think you
and the other stockholders should know
that your publisher hired me
as executive editor
with full rights to transform this newspaper.
He did this for a very simple reason.
He was fed up with operating at a loss.
Why did Mr. Madison hire me?
Well, he felt it was time that the Express
buried its antiquated negative approach,
such as this.
But who won?
And become a positive newspaper.
We're in a business, ladies and gentlemen,
a business of satisfying the hunger
of the public for thrills, escape and news.
Here's where I took over
your highly respectable white elephant.
Instead of headlining a UN story,
we gave them a vice story.
Obviously, they went for it.
We played down
the presidential appointments
and concentrated
on the "Gorilla Man" killings.
Here's what happened.
Thirty or forty thousand new readers.
Why, in a year, circulation's up over 110%.
And when we reach 750,000,
we'll have to pay you a big bonus.
I'm not sure I like this at all.
Did you like the dividend check
you got last month
for the first time in 12 years?
I don't like this, sir.
What kind of journalism is this?
A newspaper
staging a cheap, vulgar display
in order to attract
the stupid slobs of the city!
The thousands who will attend
the Lonely Heart dance tonight,
these poor, friendly, unhappy people
whom you call stupid slobs,
buy and read this newspaper.
Their loyalty helped put that dividend check
in your pocket.
And I suppose you think it's a public service
when one of your reporters is arrested
for withholding information from the police?
Or whatever it was.
This, what's his name, McCleary person,
and the things he writes about!
I think he should be fired!
This McCleary person
is the best young reporter I've seen
in 25 years of newspapering.
Before I'll fire him,
I'll throw the Express up for grabs
and go to work for somebody
who appreciates real talent on a paper!
- Mark, I'm sure...
- One last thing.
The only contract I have here is a handshake
between Mr. Madison and myself.
Now, unless you give me full rights
to run this paper the way I want,
I'll quit after the final edition today.
Now, I'm sorry I can't stay with you
any longer. I have a newspaper to get out!
- Your story ready, Miss Allison?
- I'll have the rest in a minute, Joey.
Mr. Chapman?
Thanks.
McCleary story in yet, Bax?
How'd you make out in the torture chamber?
This is good. Give it a big play.
Mac'll do a byline follow-up tomorrow.
- What are these?
- Pics for that Lonely Heart spread.
- Junk them.
- But I...
Take Peters off the Lonely Hearts.
He's photographing these slobs
like a lineup in a soup kitchen
instead of panting for a red-hot romance.
- Okay. But I...
- Yeah?
Yes, Mr. Madison.
- Get an ax, smear it with blood.
- Yeah? Whose?
Yours. If you can't spare any,
use chocolate syrup or something.
Chocolate? Goody! When I'm through,
I can make a plate of fudge. Drop in.
So, you still insist a woman having 20 kids
is worth a feature article?
Hi, genius.
I think it's worth a whole front page.
It scares me, this maternal instinct of yours.
Decided where you're taking me
to dinner tonight?
If Chapman hasn't been canned,
you're going to dine with the worst loser
who ever paid off a bet.
Then you'd better stash some
bicarbonate soda in your bag, princess.
You're gonna need it.
Don't count your steaks
before you hear the sizzle.
Well, what's the word? Are you ex or still?
They're not dumb enough
to throw out a winner.
Congratulations. I knew you'd stick
their stocks right back in their teeth.
I told them if they fired me,
McCleary would quit, too,
and then they'd be in real trouble.
I wouldn't put it past them
to try and dump you
to get out of paying the bonus that's
staring them right in their glassy eyes.
I've got news for you.
I'm going to cut you in
for a piece of that bonus.
What do you want me to do, retire?
I thought we could make a deal with Madison
to buy some of the company's stock.
You know, kid,
we could end up owning this newspaper.
- Well, that's the best offer I've had all week.
- I'll make you another one.
I'll take you to dinner tonight.
You pick the spot.
I'll make you a better offer.
My date's buying. She lost a bet.
The Grand Duchess from Vassar again?
The way I feel, I can put up with anything.
- I'm more worried, can she put up with you?
- Get her ready.
We've got to be at the ballroom at 8:00.
There's no time for nose powder.
Don't break your ears with that grin.
I can see. He's still in.
- No loud whoops of joy, baby?
- Well, I tried everything.
I crossed my fingers,
said prayers, burned candles.
- Who's your tailor, princess?
- Let's get out of here.
I've had to look at that Chapman face all day.
I've got to cover his fiasco tonight
and suffer some more.
At least just looking at you for an hour
will be a welcome change.
- Lf you're taking me to dinner, let's go.
- Taking him?
Wait a minute.
Our bet was between you and me.
Our bet was loser buys dinner.
We didn't say for how many.
- Why, you double-crossing...
- I knew you'd be a good loser.
Someday remind me to tell you about girls.
You talk a couple of these suckers
into getting married.
These Lonely Heart slobs got the gimmies,
and we've got plenty to give them
from the advertisers.
If you talk one couple
into getting married by 9:00,
by 12:00 we'll have a dozen lined up
for wedded bliss.
- McCleary, the Brooklyn cupid.
- McCleary, the human yes man.
Hey, Julie!
- Hello, Charlie.
- Charlie.
- How are you, Barnes?
- Fine, Mark. You're looking fit. McCleary.
Thank you.
What goes on? Are you ghosting
Allison's features, Charlie?
No, he's helping me with research
for that series
on historical monuments in New York.
You couldn't pick a better man.
I ought to know.
Remember those old days, Mark?
Like the time I cut the phone cables
at the Lindbergh trial?
You scooped me. Almost cost me my job.
Scooped you, the wire services,
scooped everybody. That was the year...
That was the year you won the Pulitzer Prize.
Listen, Mark.
This stuff I've been doing for Julie, it's...
- Mark, I think I'm ready to go back to work.
- That's fine. I'm glad to hear it, Charlie.
How about it, Mark? How about a job?
- Why not?
- Thanks.
- Charlie, I'm so proud of you!
- This is gonna take a little juggling.
I won't be able to do anything right away.
Look, Charlie, I'll call you.
We're late, we gotta rush.
Sure, Mark, I know how it is,
always on the go.
- Coffee in the morning? Skinners?
- Sure thing, Julie.
All the time I thought you were a...
- How much did you give him?
- $10. He earned it.
Ten bucks?
- Buy a lot of whiskey.
- Did you see that rum-dumb?
- Come midnight, he'll be in the gutter.
- Now, wait a minute.
He's an alky, Julie.
You shouldn't give an alky
more than a buck at a time.
You're liable to kill him.
Ten bucks, he can take a bath in it.
But... Well, this job
will change everything for him.
Job? I wouldn't have him in my office,
let alone on my staff.
In you go, sucker. Where are you going?
I'm not going to let him go off believing this.
- Do you want to break his heart?
- Do I? What do you think you're doing?
I'm giving him hopes and dreams.
A rummy like that lives on dreams.
- He's happy. Why spoil it?
- Happy? Happy like your Lonely Hearts,
looking forward to those big romances
they've been promised?
- Only Charlie's romance is with a bottle.
- Get in.
Biddle, don't leave that camera at half mast.
Stop goldbricking on the other guys.
I must have got 100 shots already,
Mr. Chapman. My arm's giving out.
You've only started. I want shots of people
from every state. Now start shooting.
How are you doing, princess?
Well, it's an effort,
but I'm trying to keep from screaming.
You were a real bundle of laughs
during dinner, too.
Why don't you simmer down now?
You're not so pretty
when your feathers are all ruffled.
Don't, Steve. I'm in no mood for levity.
- Do you feel like dancing?
- Do you figure that'll smooth my feathers?
I've got a great idea for you. Grab yourself
one of these Lonely Heart boys.
Tell him you're a club date. Con him.
Get his life history.
- And there's your feature for tomorrow.
- Mark Chapman, Junior.
It'll sell papers, you left that out.
Happy hunting, cupid.
Mustn't let the boss down.
Save at least one dance for me, princess.
Every time I aim my lens
at one of these walking zombies,
I think of the time
I covered the Miss America contest.
The tears almost start to flow.
From McCleary, you get nothing but service.
Ten minutes before 9:00,
and couple number one. Mary and Joe
met in front of the Arkansas booth.
It was love at first sight, almost. Right?
Well, sure. I'm from Texas,
but I sure love that Arkansas cooking.
- You love her, don't you?
- Well, sure, I reckon so.
- Mary, you love him?
- Yes.
- See, they're crazy about each other.
- Yeah, that's fine. Hey, Edwards.
We've got a romance going here.
They're ready for the orange blossoms.
- Well, how do you do? And congratulations.
- Save the teeth for the bandstand.
Get up there
and make the big announcement.
Yes, sir, Mr. Chapman.
Come with me, you lucky, lucky people.
Hey, you ain't gonna forget about the bed
with the built-in television set?
You'll spend your honeymoon in front of it.
- Nice going, Steve, keep punching.
- I'll get the camera boys up to cover it.
- Did you find a feature to write about yet?
- I haven't, and I don't intend to.
This bribing of poor, ignorant dopes
into a public wedding
is cheap, cruel and disgusting.
This whole Wild West show is ridiculous,
and I want no part of it.
Miss Allison,
your contract has six months to run.
My contract was made with Mr. Madison
before you took over the Express.
If you don't like the way I run the paper,
I have an agreement
that might be satisfactory to both of us.
Take six months' vacation with pay!
No, thank you, Mr. Chapman. I'll work it out.
I like my feature writing.
Thinking people like it, too,
even though there aren't many of them
buying the Express anymore. Good night!
That's it.
Friends, brothers and sisters
in the Lonely Hearts Club.
I have wonderful news for you,
living proof that this magnificent club
is more than just a name.
But first, how would you like to meet
the great man who created your club?
Mr. Mark Chapman,
editor of the New York Express.
Put the spotlight on him, over there!
Now here's the wonderful news.
Meet Mary and Joe, two happy people
who came here tonight as total strangers.
They met, they danced, they found love.
They're going to get married!
George?
- As the first couple who fell in love tonight...
- George Grant!
...Mary and Joe will receive...
- It is you!
...compliments of the Express...
- Charlotte.
... a wedding night in a New York hotel...
Finding you here...
I was so sure that you must be dead.
George Grant is dead.
Yes, I just heard.
- You're the...
- We can't talk here.
We can talk at my place, George.
We've got a lot to talk about.
Go on out. I'll meet you at the side entrance.
The years have been kinder to you.
What is it, 19, 20?
I used to keep track, but I don't...
What's the difference?
Now that you found me, what do you want?
May I?
- Come on, quit stalling around.
- What was it they called you at the ball?
- Mark?
- Chapman.
When did you change your name, George?
Right after you left me?
So I wouldn't find you?
You knew I was so crazy about you
I'd look and look and look,
didn't you, George?
Come on, get to it. What do you want?
You're still in a hurry, aren't you?
That's the thing I remember best about you.
The fellow who always ran and never walked.
Had to get places fast!
And you got places, didn't you, George?
Here, you need some money?
Here's some for now.
Money? The payoff, George?
How much? How much for each year?
How much for the agony
and the heartbreak and the fear?
- Charlotte, cut the ham act.
- This could be for the doctor bill, see?
I was 20 years younger then,
took things more seriously.
I can't imagine how much.
You're boring me now, like you always did.
People always bored you
when you didn't have
any more use for them, didn't they, George?
Bores and nuisances, I get rid of them.
Yeah, the same gentle way
you got rid of me.
My lawyer will get in touch with you.
He'll arrange a quiet divorce
and generous alimony.
You're an important man now,
aren't you, George?
Editor of the New York Express.
I never thought I'd be the wife of the editor
of a big New York newspaper.
You're not, and don't get any ideas
about forcing yourself.
You've got nothing to gain by refusing me
a divorce now like you did 20 years ago.
I was young then and so foolishly in love.
I wanted so much to hold onto you.
I made all of my mistakes when I was young,
and you were the biggest one.
I fell for an attractive hunk of flesh.
"Hold me." You didn't try to hang on.
You strangled me.
I'd smother to death with you.
Turnabout's fair play.
When you walked out on me, I died inside.
When I walk out of here, you're gonna die.
Everything you worked for, grabbed for,
ruined people to get, it's all gonna die!
You're a neurotic screwball!
I'm gonna spread your story all over town.
Mark Chapman, the great editor!
Wife deserter!
Living under a false name for 20 years.
What else did you cover up
living under a phony name?
Your publishers are gonna love this.
And the other papers, they'll cut you
to ribbons with this information!
Hi, honey, let me have the city room.
This is Elkins.
If you need me, I'm over in Skinners.
What? Having breakfast. Yeah, breakfast.
Yes, Julie, after that fortunate
and historical meeting with Mark yesterday,
I had considerable difficulty
wooing the fickle Morpheus.
That explains it.
Those bleeding eyes today.
Well, I did have a couple
with the boys down below.
A sort of celebration, and then farewell.
You should have left them long ago, Charlie.
Any man who was big enough
in his day to rate that,
a place in Skinner's Hall of Fame,
is still too big for Dead-End Street.
No regrets, Julie. My temporary alliance
with the denizens of the Bowery
has provided me with a deeper insight
into the whys and wherefores of mankind.
A proven medical fact,
when the human system
has been lengthily nurtured
on alcoholic stimulants,
any abrupt cessation of same
will result in a negative reaction.
Absolutely.
But I'm tapering off. I'll be a firmly-rooted
passenger on the old water wagon
by the time Mark's ready for me.
Charlie, don't bet everything
on Mark Chapman.
He won't let me down.
First time I felt ready, I asked him for a job,
and what happened?
He offered me one, didn't he?
- Mr. Lonely Heart.
- Compliments of the Express, Myrtle.
- I see you read. You stick with the radio.
- Yeah.
Hey, McCleary,
I read that rag of yours by accident.
Yeah, me, too.
From ax murder to Ionely hearts.
What are you trying to prove,
you're versatile or something?
What are you gentlemen
reading our rag for?
Trying to find out
what's happening that's news?
Good morning, kiddies. What's the word?
Silly, that's the word.
Still a heaping bunch of joy,
aren't you, princess?
Lonely Hearts Ball. Journalism has certainly
changed since the old days.
What happened to you last night?
Pulled a fast fade on me.
- Don't tell me you actually missed me?
- I needed protection.
Some of our love-hungry subscribers
got mixed up.
They were offering me deep-freezes
and vacuum cleaners.
- I'm surprised you refused.
- How do you know I did?
Certainly heavy coverage
on the unrequited passion set.
Our love and romance edition, Charlie.
Even the crossword puzzle.
But nothing from the Allison corner.
Not interested in romance, Julie?
Not the kind that blossoms
on free gas stoves and television sets.
- About that Lonely Heart gag, I've got a...
- Steve, on the radio.
- Julie. Hi, Charlie.
- Hi, Biddle.
Police call. Dead dame in a flat
on Third Avenue. Are you interested?
Well, she'd probably be a cheerful change.
I'm still getting the icebox treatment
from the female on my left.
After them scarecrows I shot last night,
I figure my luck's gotta change.
Even dead, this dame's bound
to have more glamour.
Let's give her a look.
Thanks for the coffee, kitten.
Another scarecrow. I'm batting goose eggs.
Dames have got to make trouble
even when they die, don't they, pal?
Yeah, water downstairs and water upstairs.
Probably wanted a room
with a swimming pool.
Hey, Davis, what are you doing here?
I just wanted to see if I couldn't get
to one of our calls before you did.
This isn't a homicide?
We got a new man
on the beat here, McCleary.
He's built like you between the ears.
He saw a hole in the back of the dame's head
and figured she was slugged.
What's your guess, Lieutenant?
She put the hole
in the back of her head herself?
Yeah, wise-eyes, that's it. That's it exactly.
She slipped in the tub
and opened her skull on a faucet.
- What was the lady's name, Sherlock?
- The landlady says Jane Jones.
- Do you believe it?
- Yeah, I believe it.
I'm fresh out of nursery school.
Jane Jones, alias Jane Doe.
Say, Dave, you're really humming.
Look, nuisance, if you so much as make
these bedsprings squeak once again,
- I'll throw you in the tub with the dame.
- Lieutenant, please.
You're wrong, Dave.
She was murdered. Clear as your head.
Murdered for her money.
Why, this lady must have spent easily
six or seven dollars a year on clothes.
Why don't you go home, McCleary?
There's nothing around here
to interest a big newsman like you.
Look, junior, keep your nose
in your own business, or I'll run you in
- for obstruction, suspicion and vagrancy.
- Why, sure, Dave.
I just thought there might be something
in here to help identify her.
No suitcase, huh?
- In there, boys.
- Okay, Steve, I got all I need.
Thanks, Dave.
- No, not you two again.
- What do you guys do,
smell these things
before the police call is even in?
Try to forget your mugs.
There's a lady in the bathroom.
- Yes, so knock before entering.
- Coming through.
- What'd you pinch that for?
- Look familiar?
I had them in front of me all night, didn't I?
Hey, that's off a Lonely Hearts badge!
Yeah. How many pictures
did you and the boys take at the ball?
Three, maybe four hundred. I don't know.
Rush the print of Miss Bathtub
through the lab.
Then check it against the others.
- See if you can match them up, okay?
- Sure.
- Shouldn't take more than a week.
- Yeah, but I want it done in an hour.
- I'll see you at the office.
- Where are you going?
I'm gonna hitch a ride to the morgue.
If you match them, call me.
How about a ride to the morgue, Pete?
Hey, Needle Nellie, anybody home?
Hey, handsome.
- How you doing, sweetheart?
- Doing all right, handsome.
Come here and give us a kiss.
- How's business at the morgue, Nellie?
- Dead.
Business is dead.
- It's good to see you, handsome.
- Likewise, sweetheart.
A long time between dates.
But right now,
I come seeking your expert female advice.
Anybody that's lived as long as me
can give it. Shoot.
Nellie, if you had just one dress
to your name
and you'd fastened something onto it
with a safety pin,
and maybe you were in a hurry,
would you take time to undo the pin,
or would you rip the whole thing off?
- This is a riddle?
- No, seriously.
Well, if I had 10 dresses and the house
was burning down, I'd still undo the pin.
Any lady would.
That's what I figured.
I just wanted a woman to confirm it.
I love you, Nellie. I love you.
- Where you going, handsome?
- I gotta see the doc.
Maybe I can get you some business, Nellie.
Did you get those ringside ducats
I sent you?
Steve! Yeah, it was a great fight.
Mishke really tore that Haybelly apart,
didn't he?
Had so much blood spattered on my glasses,
I missed the knockout punch.
Look, Doc,
they just brought in an accidental death.
- They're putting her in the freezer right now.
- So?
So, I'd like you to give her
the onceover for me. An autopsy.
Accidents are out of my province.
You know that, Steve.
It's going to be
a great World Series this year.
Yeah, that it is.
I don't suppose you'd be interested
in viewing the festivities from a box seat?
Are you trying to bribe a city official?
Right behind first base, Doc.
Yeah. Yeah, get some prints ready.
I think we've got our front page.
Well, this is your lucky day. Drop back,
I want you to mark my racing form.
Get the door, will you?
Yeah, and don't forget, I smoke cigars.
- Hey, Steve, let me wipe those off a little.
- Wipe them tomorrow.
Will you smile again
if I take you to dinner tonight?
- A little celebration coming up.
- What's the celebration?
Another McCleary scoop.
Getting monotonous, isn't it?
That dinner. A two-party celebration,
or are you bringing a friend?
Just you and me alone.
I'll smile again.
What are the fragile treasures?
Very rare items.
Pictures of a dame with her mouth shut.
- Joey, catch the door, will you?
- All right.
I've been waiting a long time
for a chance to say this.
- Stop the presses!
- Did you get a morning-after story
on any of those couples
we married last night?
I got a story from one
of the Lonely Heart Ball guests, all right.
But she didn't get married last night.
She got murdered!
- Who is she?
- A Jane Doe. Nobody knows her real name.
The police think she slipped in the bathtub
and bashed her head in,
- or they did until a little while ago.
- But you knew better all the time?
After Doc O'Hanlon got through
cutting her up for me.
She died between 9:00 and 12:00 last night,
before she went under in the tub.
No water in her lungs.
Did he find anything else?
Yeah, her killer was a man, middle-aged,
fair complexion. Had brown hair.
O'Hanlon found that
in scraping under her fingernails.
You ran into this
just by playing a hunch, huh?
A string from a Lonely Heart badge
was on her dress in the closet.
The badge had been torn off.
I followed through from there.
Well, is this a story,
this Lonely Heart murdered after the ball?
Can you sell papers with this?
Baxter, Jordan, Allison,
get in here right away.
They didn't know her name, you said?
Well, she called herself Jane Jones.
How phony can you get?
We've just been struck by lightning.
It's a great follow-up
for the Lonely Hearts Ball.
Tell them about it, Steve.
We'll call her Miss Lonely Heart,
no other name. Alone in the city, friendless.
She went to our shindig last night,
hunting for a soul mate.
Maybe she found one, the wrong one.
Anyway, she left early,
and sometime before midnight
she was beaten to death in her room
by a brown-haired, middle-aged man
of fair complexion.
A smash follow-up is right.
The killer had a head full of brains.
Good nerves.
He lugged her to the bathroom,
stripped her, tossed the body in the tub.
No. No, he stood the body in the tub.
Aimed, let go!
Bang, her head cracks the faucet.
Almost perfect crime. Ordinary accident.
He's working smartly,
a guy with imagination.
He takes her slip, stockings,
washes them, hangs them up to dry.
He wipes his prints off everywhere.
He starts getting rid of anything
that could identify her.
He took a ring off her,
probably a wedding or engagement ring.
- How do you know that?
- Whitish circle, third finger, left hand.
- O'Hanlon spotted it at the morgue.
- All right, go on, go on.
Well, he grabs any other personal items
that might identify her
and throws them in her suitcase and blows.
- How do you know she's got a suitcase?
- Every dame's got a suitcase.
But there wasn't one
in Miss Lonely Heart's room.
This'll kick up the circulation.
We can make the 5:00 edition exclusive.
Steve can do the lead story.
Jordan, I want three column cuts
of the dame's picture at the ball
and the murder photo.
Allison, write me a sob story,
"Miss Lonely Heart
won't be Ionely anymore."
Fine job, Steve.
Sure, it's a great job,
but we're gonna top it.
How?
- Bury her.
- Bury her?
The best story I ever dug up, and he tops it.
By 5:00 tonight, Miss Lonely Heart
will be selling newspapers for us
on every street corner in Manhattan.
Now, go on, get going.
Be seeing you, Humpty.
Look, I've shown you everything in the shop.
That's the last one I've got!
Mark!
- Mark, old boy!
- How are you, Charlie.
What distasteful mission brings you to this
unholy neighborhood, Mark, my friend?
I'm just looking around.
I like to keep my hand in,
even though I am strapped
to a desk right now.
You wouldn't mean you're keeping
your hand in by working
on this Lonely Heart murder,
would you, now, Mark?
I've got a staff to take care of that for me.
You can't kid an old newshound
like me, Mark.
Still following our old formula,
first check the hock shops for a clue?
Didn't wanna tip your hand
to those cops in there, did you?
I tell you I'm not down here on business.
Now stop playing hawkshaw!
Let me show you Charlie Barnes
still has the master's touch
- when it comes to following up a lead, Mark.
- Tell me about it later, will you,
- when you come back to work for me?
- You're afraid I'll get drunk and tip the story.
- I'm tapering off, Mark.
- That's fine, Charlie. I'll call you.
Let me work this with you, Mark. I know
this whole district from gutter to rum-heads.
Pete in the pawnshop's
an honored friend of mine.
- Yeah.
- I can get him to work with me and...
- Hello, Charlie!
- Go away.
- Here, Charlie, here's something to count.
- I don't want a handout, Mark.
- I want to work.
- You can pay me later. I'll call you, Charlie.
Mark, let me help...
Hang onto them, Pete.
We'll drop back payday
and look them over again.
Them guys should wear glasses.
They do so much looking,
but never no buying.
Get this for me, Pete.
Taking something out for a change
instead of putting it in, Charlie?
I admit to the novelty of the occasion, Peter.
- Hey, you didn't hock this with me.
- Doing a favor for a friend.
Them cops. You know, if someday
they should buy something from me, I'd...
No, that'd be bad. I'd drop dead.
You know, Charlie, I ought to be
in some other kind of business.
You really meet a very poor class of people
in this business.
Not meaning anything personal,
you understand.
But I'm always dealing with people
who are in trouble,
people who gotta hock something.
People who gotta buy something cheap.
I don't like cheap things.
I never did and I never will.
I should have been big fur man, maybe,
or big jewelry man.
Then I could deal with rich people.
That's the kind of people
I really prefer to deal with.
- Hey! How much is on this ticket?
- Two bucks.
Here, sign here.
You know, sometimes they say
even the rich people aren't happy.
But how that could be, I don't know.
Thank you, Peter.
Thank you for being in business!
Thank you very much.
A shot, Heeney.
You look like your blood pressure's boiling,
Charlie. What's the matter?
The classic irony of the age, Heeney.
Charlie Barnes, a stewbum,
rocking the newspaper world
like he never did in all his sober days.
- Composing.
- Yes, sir.
Yes. Yes, madam,
I have two answers for you.
First, you shouldn't talk
to strange men in bars.
Second, because he asked you to marry him
then hit you with a pretzel dish
when you refused
isn't conclusive proof
he's our Lonely Heart Killer,
but thanks for calling, lady. Bye.
Phony or not,
those tips belong to the police.
When are you going to get rid of the idea
you're wearing an invisible badge?
Julie Allison. Hello, Charlie. How are you?
The Lonely Heart murder?
And you've got to meet me right away.
We have to figure out how to handle this.
I know the killer, and it's dynamite.
Well, Charlie,
that story is really Steve McCleary's.
- I think you'd better talk to...
- No, no, Julie, I want you to have this.
Now I can repay you, Julie child,
for everything.
Julie, this is so... It's so tremendous,
it'll put both of us on top.
What? What, Julie?
Okay, okay, both of you meet me.
Maybe we will need
somebody like McCleary.
Steve, Charlie says
he has information on the murder.
- He's awfully excited about something.
- About two quarts full, probably.
Yeah, Charlie, what's up?
I wanted Julie to have this,
but she insists you be on in it.
I mean you be in on it.
- What's the matter, Charlie?
- No.
- What? You're not sore, are you?
- No, go away!
What? What have I got?
I've got the Lonely Heart Killer for you,
that's what!
Gee, Charlie, that's great.
You getting him crocked so he'll confess?
I haven't got him. I know who he is.
What?
Yes, I'm in a saloon.
I'm in Heeney's. But I'm not drunk.
I've just taken the hottest story
of the century out of hock, and I'm gonna...
He's really flying tonight.
See what your 10 bucks did?
Stop treating him like some
weak-minded child. Listen to what he's got.
- He's not this excited for nothing.
- You know what he's got? The DTs.
Charlie Barnes, tanked to the eyeballs,
says he just took the Lonely Heart
murder solution out of hock.
Hello, Charlie?
Still there? Let's start all over again.
Listen, you mental midget. The only reason
I'm calling the Express is Julie Allison.
Before I'd give this story
to an insolent young pup like you,
I'd take it to the Daily Leader!
Charlie's mad now.
Gonna sell it to the Leader.
- Hang up on the drunken slob.
- Julie? She just left.
I guess we'll just have to read your story
in the Leader tomorrow.
- So long, pal.
- Give me that.
- Hello? Hello?
- Don't be silly, Julie.
He'll just keep you up all night
listening to his fairytales.
- Where was he calling from?
- Bellevue psycho ward, I think he said.
Your 10 bucks.
- Keep this for me, Heeney.
- Why, sure, Charlie.
A couple hours.
One more, Heeney. One for the road.
Hello, Charlie.
Mark. I thought you were still down
at the Bowery.
I hear you got a story, Charlie.
Where'd you hear that?
- Isn't that what you told McCleary?
- Why, I was just schmoozing him, I...
Lining him up for a little touch.
I gave you some money.
What did you do with it?
You didn't, by any chance,
find a pawn ticket
- mixed in with the money, did you, Charlie?
- Pawn ticket? Why, I...
Did you use the money
to get the story out of hock, Charlie?
You've got something that belongs to me.
Where is it?
You were on the way to the Leader
with some evidence.
Where is it, Charlie? Where is it?
It's a wonderful story, isn't it, Charlie?
You wanted to be a big man, Mark.
This will make you famous
beyond your most ambitious dreams.
Great story?
I've waited all my life for a story like this.
Well, you've got it, Charlie.
But you're not going to write it.
You're crazy, Mark.
Twenty years you've covered the news.
Seen the bright boys try this. It never works.
We just heard about Charlie Barnes.
Rotten deal.
It's hard when it's someone like Charlie
you've known for 22 years.
I knew him 25 years.
I never expected to see him
laying on a slab in this place.
Is that right, Doc? Was he found
in an alleyway across from the Daily Leader?
- Steve...
- Yes, that's right.
The Daily Leader. He had a story!
But he was taking your clever,
insolent, fresh-guy advice
- and giving it to the Leader!
- He was drunk, Julie. How could I know...
Charlie Barnes never got so drunk
he didn't know a story!
Or that he'd try to peddle
a phony tip to a newspaper! But you...
You couldn't bother listening to him!
You and that newsprint hero of yours,
Mark Chapman.
You couldn't expect us to believe
that Charlie Barnes
had any real information
on the murder, Julie.
We still don't know that he did.
If you and that stone-hearted, glory seeking,
"I am the great Mark Chapman"
had thrown Charlie
the miserable crumb of respect
of just listening to him, he'd be alive today!
Julie, maybe you're right.
Maybe it is partly my fault Charlie's dead.
I'm sorry. Really sorry. But what can I do?
Don't go soft! Show Chapman
you're a chip off the old block.
Have him give Charlie a fancy funeral.
Great headline.
"The Express buries its cast-offs."
It'll sell papers!
Kenny, rewrite that one paragraph, will you?
Allison had a bad night. Yeah.
I just got yesterday's figures
from circulation, Mark.
Six hundred and ninety-six thousand.
You're moving up there.
Looks as though it's going to cost
the Express some bonus money before long.
Quicker than you can say,
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Stockholder Rawley!"
We're only starting,
Mr. Madison, only starting.
That's the spirit!
When you get to the editor's chair,
remember one thing.
You're a hero with a lifetime job,
as long as the circulation is rising.
- What have you got there?
- Something that will keep circulation rising.
Charlie Barnes' story.
What are you talking about?
Charlie wasn't near the Daily Leader
by accident, Mark.
He had something to print.
I couldn't find it in his effects
at the morgue this morning,
but I found it at Heeney's bar,
the joint Charlie phoned from last night.
Half a pawnshop ticket was still on the bag.
Pete's Hock Shop. I checked it.
Charlie came in the pawnshop last night
with a claim check.
Said he was unhocking it for a friend.
Well, what's in the bag?
Miss Lonely Heart's name and address?
Better than that, Mark.
Much better than that.
A picture of the guy who killed her.
A picture?
You can't even see the guy's face!
What's the matter, Mark?
This is the first real lead we've got.
The way you talked,
I thought we had it all sewed up.
Sure, it's a lead, but it's a thin one.
How much does this give us?
Well, we're certain the dame had a husband.
They were married in 1931 in Connecticut.
- The husband's the guy who killed her.
- How do you make that?
The ring mark on her finger
must have been a wedding ring.
The inscription inside
could have identified him.
And he grabbed the pawn ticket
figuring she'd hocked some belongings
- that might peg him.
- Makes sense.
Charlie got the pawn ticket from the killer.
He must have been with him sometime,
someplace, yesterday.
A lot of people
could have seen them together, right?
Could have.
Splash this picture
on the front page tonight.
Offer a reward for information.
"Lonely Heart Killer strikes again."
When you write the story,
say that Barnes was working on this case
undercover for the Express.
He got too close to the killer
and died in the line of duty.
Mark, I don't know, it...
Nobody can deny it. It'll help sell papers.
We'll offer $1,000.
Look, kid, don't pin your hopes
on anybody being able
to spot the guy from this.
Unless they got x-ray eyes.
I'm sure Charlie connected
the guy in the picture
with the bird who gave him the pawn ticket.
I'm going to fine-tooth the Bowery myself.
It's even money
that's where Charlie ran into our man.
Good luck, kid.
- Well, I got them for you, McCleary.
- Good work, Heeney.
Well, this does it. I'll never touch
another drop the rest of my life.
'Course some of them
been sucking on the bottle all night,
but they can still stand up.
- They all knew Charlie?
- Yeah, they all knew him.
If you give McCleary here
any bum information, I'll brain you.
And I might even do worse.
No more free shots
when you're seeing little red spiders.
How many of you boys saw Charlie Barnes
the day he was killed? Raise your hands.
All right, raise your mitts,
them that seen Charlie day before yesterday.
Good.
- Where did you see him?
- See who?
- This guy must be used to talking to mirrors.
- Charlie Barnes.
I seen him come out of a joint
where he flopped in the morning.
You, where'd you see him?
- Humpty O'Dougal's saloon.
- What time?
In the afternoon. Late in the afternoon.
Charlie had a nice little bun on.
Was he with anybody?
With anybody?
Sure, he was with somebody.
Charlie never drank by himself
if he had a little cash on him.
- Well, do you know the guy he was with?
- Certainly I know who he was with.
- Well, who was it?
- Me. He sprung me three slugs.
When did you see him?
When did you see him?
- This morning.
- Throw him out of here.
- Wait a minute!
- What are you talking about?
- Now, is there any more jokers in the crowd?
- I seen him.
Yeah? Well, go on. Where'd you see him?
On the street near Pete's Hock Shop.
- Go on, go on.
- Nothing. He was working a sucker.
- Giving him the pally act, that's all.
- Now think hard.
Do you remember the sucker?
Do you remember what he looks like?
- Maybe.
- What do you mean, "Maybe"?
- Maybe for 50 bucks.
- Why you...
Do you think you could remember
for 1,000 bucks?
Who could tell who he is?
Can you describe
the man you saw Charlie with?
Do I get $1,000 if I do?
You do. If and when we find the guy.
- Sure, I can describe him.
- Well, go ahead.
- You paying the reward?
- No, but my boss is.
- Then I'll describe it to him.
- Okay. Come on.
Rush this over to the composing room.
Kenny, see if you can figure out
a heading for that rubbish.
Connie! Connie, take this.
Wait here.
Look, Lieutenant,
just refer the captain to me.
I'll tell him he's cropping at the best
homicide man he ever had on the force.
If he doesn't know that,
he's deaf, dumb and blind.
Yeah, never mind the malarkey, Chapman!
The next time
you people pull a stunt like this,
I'll throw both you and McCleary in the can!
Okay, Lieutenant, okay.
I give you my word. Goodbye, pal.
Davis is screaming because we gave him
the suitcase only a half hour
before he read it in the Express.
Well, I've got something
that ought to make him happy again.
Not another suitcase?
A guy who can identify the man
Charlie got the pawn ticket from.
Hey, Bailey. Come in here.
He wouldn't describe the guy to me.
He needed the boss.
You the boss?
Yeah, and don't waste my time.
Where'd you see this guy with Charlie?
Down the street near Pete's Hock Shop.
You say you can describe him?
Well, go on. What did he look like?
Stand up, will you?
Yeah, just how I figured.
You figured what?
He was your size,
your build.
Could have been as old as you.
- Is that all?
- All you asked me was to describe him.
That was no description!
That could fit a million guys in this town.
- Even me.
- Well, how about the reward?
Here, take this down to the cashier
and pick yourself up five bucks.
- Show him where it is, Steve.
- Come on, Bailey.
Hey, Baxter, where's Julie?
She came in this morning,
banged this out on her typewriter,
and told me to give it to Chapman.
- What is it?
- Her resignation.
I figured I'd hang onto it a day or so.
Maybe she'd cool off.
I'm sure glad you did.
I'll take care of it for you, okay?
Baxter, thanks.
- Hello, Mrs. Allison.
- Well, hello, Steve. Come in.
Thank you.
I have a pot of coffee in the kitchen.
I'd better see to it.
Can I say a few words to you?
Without getting hit with a table
or something?
Speak your piece and get it over with.
I just got rocked
with a bad piece of news, Julie.
I heard about your resignation.
Well, I can't imagine
why you'd shed any tears over it.
Well, for what it's worth,
your resigning knocks the props
out of a lot of things for me.
That couldn't have come
from Steve McCleary.
Okay, pass it. But I didn't figure
your burn at Chapman and me
would be bigger than your wanting
to do something about Charlie's murder.
Don't start playing me
for a hollow-headed female now, Steve.
Your only interest, and Chapman's,
in Charlie's death is exploiting it
- for all the circulation jumping it's worth!
- Julie, I'm not digging on a story now
just for the school-boy bang of seeing
my name over a sensational yarn.
Yeah, that's right, I had to get hit pretty hard
before I smartened up.
But now I'm leveling
on the Charlie Barnes business.
Well, if I can believe what I'm hearing,
this certainly is a different McCleary.
I've been working night and day.
All I've done is run the local leads
to a dead end.
There's only one gimmick left to follow.
This picture, the marriage in Connecticut.
It's odd the person who married them
hasn't recognized it.
Unless he's dead or hasn't seen the picture.
Yeah, I thought of that angle, too.
But it's a million-to-one shot.
A guy would have to be an elephant
to remember a face after 21 years.
Tell him about the elephant we met
on Fifth Avenue, about four years ago.
We were walking along the street when,
right out of the blue,
a complete stranger stopped me.
It turned out to be the little preacher
who married Julie's father and me
in Portland, Maine, 23 years before!
- And he actually was able to recognize you?
- And I'd put on a little weight since then.
They say a New Englander
seldom forgets a face.
Crazy odds, but what can we lose?
Yeah, get this picture
to every churchman, judge
and justice of the peace in Connecticut.
- It's certainly worth trying.
- It's a big job. Compiling lists,
- checking out leads.
- It can be done.
The two of us could handle it, Julie.
Well, I'd like to, Steve, but I've resigned.
And I'd sooner drop dead
than ask Mark Chapman for my job back.
- You dog!
- It never got past Baxter.
A list of churches in each town
is no problem.
The judges and JPs we can get
from the state legal directory in Hartford.
Yeah, you start packing.
Enough for a couple of weeks.
I'm going to the office
and get the lab boys started
on knocking out a few hundred circulars.
But suppose Chapman says no
to my working with you on it?
Why should he? Anyway, I'm not going
to tell him anything until we're ready to go.
Tonight sometime.
Mom, you think it's safe for me to travel
out of state at night with this young man?
Just so he doesn't misconstrue
the meaning of "freedom of the press."
Hey, you wonderful woman.
I'll check with you for dinner.
Steve, this is shot-in-the-dark stuff.
Mark, more rabbit-brained ideas than this
have paid off.
Your hottest lead is right here in town
where the murders were committed.
Yeah, our hottest lead was in town,
but it dried up like a puddle in July.
You're looking for a mental marvel,
a guy who can recognize somebody
he'd seen for 15 or 20 minutes
at a wedding ceremony
he performed 21 years ago.
How do we know he only saw them
for 15 or 20 minutes?
Maybe they were members of his church
or were married by a judge
or a justice in their own town.
Steve, you're off
on a needle-in-a-haystack hunt.
You can find a needle in a haystack
if you look long enough.
You don't think I'm gonna let you
hang around up there indefinitely, do you?
You won't have to. A week, probably.
Julie Allison's coming along to help me.
It's all arranged.
It's all arranged. And that five grand reward.
You arranged that, too?
No, you did, or will.
Mark, what's eating you?
I'm only checking out every possible angle.
Kid, I don't want you to beat your brains out.
We can get just so much
out of this Lonely Hearts story,
and then we'll start easing it off
and let it die a natural death.
Let it die? Mark, we let Charlie Barnes die!
The least we can do now is to find his killer.
You're the guy who pounded into me,
"Never give up till you've got the story."
Well, I'm not quitting on this one
until I've licked it.
You can reach me
at the Lenox Hotel in Hartford.
Long distance.
I want some information.
A telephone number
in Middlebury, Connecticut.
The name is Hacker. He's a judge.
I don't remember his first name.
You wish to place a call to this party?
No, no. Not yet, that is.
I just want to get his telephone number.
One moment, please.
Hello? The Middlebury operator
has no listing for anyone by that name.
There isn't?
Middlebury's a small town.
Will you ask the operator
if she knows anything
about Judge Hacker at all?
Is he deceased, moved away, or what?
One moment, please.
Hello? The local operator
has been in Middlebury for five years
and knows no one
by the name of Judge Hacker.
That's all the information she can give us.
Thanks.
No, Reverend,
I'm afraid that's not our couple.
You may be positive, Reverend,
but you're mistaken.
The woman in the photo we sent you
is dead.
Thank you for calling, Reverend.
You don't have to tell me.
It's written all over
your bright and shining face.
A 190-mile drive
to have a whack-head tell me
that both the people in our circular
died a year ago.
New Englanders remember, all right.
Every face is familiar to them.
Hello? Just a minute, here's Steve.
It's that man again. Every day.
Does he think we'll keep it a big fat secret
if we find something?
Yeah, Mark.
Nothing but an aching back
and some interesting meetings
with jelly-brained screwballs.
You've had enough time, Steve. Ten days.
Admit it's a dud. Come on home.
Two more days, Mark.
We'll stick it out to the end of the week.
Get out of the haystack. It's easier
to find the needles at the scene of the crime.
I'll see you.
Two more days. I don't even know myself
why we're sticking around.
Anything there that sounds good?
I'll read you a fair sample.
From a J.P. Waterbury.
"Send me $5,000
and I will tell you names of people."
A new head I'll send him.
I've got a headache.
I think I'll lie down for a while.
Why don't you lie down here?
I'll go to my room.
McCleary. Okay, put him on.
A guy calling from Franklin.
Hello? Yeah, that's right.
You do, huh?
- You've got what?
- What is it?
- Just a minute.
- I have the other picture right before me!
Yes, I married them July 19th, 1931,
over in Middlebury.
A funny thing. What's that?
Judge Elroy Hacker.
We'll be there in two hours, Judge.
Sit tight
and keep your mouth shut about this.
Bye.
Go on, get packed.
He's liable to drop dead on us or something.
For a man who can sit there
and watch his success increasing daily,
you're looking much too troubled, Mark.
It's just that these minor problems
always seem to require major thinking.
Well, perhaps we can balance
the unpleasant with the pleasant.
That conversation we had the other day
about your buying company stock.
- Yeah?
- I just thought I'd tell you,
- I think we can swing that.
- That's fine, Mr. Madison, just great.
Well, there doesn't seem to be any doubt
you'll reach that bonus figure.
It'll be pleasant having you as a partner,
- so to speak, in the paper, Mark.
- Thanks.
- Good night.
- Good night.
Sorry to keep you this late, Mark,
but we got hit with a mess of traffic
on the way in.
Your wire sounded important.
I found that needle,
or rather the man with the needle.
Judge Elroy Hacker,
Mark Chapman, Managing Editor.
- Glad to meet you, Judge.
- How do, Mr. Chapman?
- Sit down, Judge.
- Thanks.
Does the judge's needle sew anything up?
Everything but knotting the thread
at the end.
I mean the noose.
What have you got?
The identity of Mrs. Lonely Heart
and her husband.
Judge Hacker married them
in Middlebury, Connecticut.
Their names are Charlotte and George Grant.
Did you get that, Mark?
The name of the Lonely Heart Killer
is George Grant.
Yeah, I heard you. Go on.
Strike two. The judge is sure
he can identify George Grant
when he sees him again.
You see, I took this picture myself.
A little extra service
the judge gave his bridal couples.
Yes. I'd send them a print
and put one in my own scrapbook.
The judge even furnished
the "just married" sign.
Judge, you said
you married them in Middlebury,
- but Steve found you in Franklin.
- I retired seven years ago.
I'm partial to fishing,
so I moved over on the coast.
I only happened
to see your circular by chance,
in the office of a justice friend of mine.
I always said you were born
in a field of shamrocks.
Sure. The McClearys raised their kids
on nothing but rabbits' feet.
Judge, what makes you so sure
you can identify George Grant today?
Well, mainly because right after
I took that wedding picture,
this Grant got vexed at his wife
about something.
I can remember his voice, snapping at her.
His face getting red...
I know what's in your bonnet, Mark.
We still have to find George Grant.
A needle's nothing but a hunk of steel
if you've got nothing to sew.
We just need the thread.
I figure we'll pick that up
right here in New York.
When the police line up all the local
George Grants for the judge to look over.
That's Julie. I dropped her off
at headquarters to tell Davis what we've got.
Friend Davis is steaming
like a pressure cooker, as I said he would.
He'll simmer down.
So will your
lining up the George Grants idea.
Davis says he'll do nothing until you turn
Judge Hacker over to the police.
- Steve, you can't hold...
- Relax, doll. He'll see the judge later.
Not tonight he won't.
The judge is our exclusive beat.
Nobody gets to him
till our story breaks tomorrow.
I don't trust cops.
You and Julie start writing the story.
I'll put the judge in a side-street hotel
where nobody will get to him.
Come on, Judge.
I'll just wait for Mr. McCleary.
He was going to put me up at his place.
That's the first place
the wolves will start baying.
You better come with me, Judge.
No, I don't think it would be wise
for me to go with you, Mr. Grant.
- Mister...
- Chapman, Judge. Not Grant.
You'd better give your brain a rest.
You're gonna need it.
He may be Chapman now,
but 21 years ago, when I married them,
he was George Grant.
And he was a newspaperman.
I remember now. He said he worked
on the paper over in Waterford.
Waterford, Connecticut, was that town
I couldn't think of.
But I knew I'd remember that voice.
His face... You've changed.
But it's the same man.
You remember that $5,000 reward, though,
don't you, Judge?
Judge. This is impossible.
You're getting confused.
He sounds to me as though
he knows exactly what he's saying.
This is idiotic!
Screwball, crackbrained lunacy!
And that's just the kind of a witness
the judge is going to make, too, Steve.
The police have that specimen
of hair and flesh
found under Mrs. Grant's fingernails.
I think we'd better get in touch with Davis.
No phone, Allison.
Julie pegged you right off.
But me, still wet behind the ears McCleary.
I went for the sleigh ride.
I practically built the pedestal for Chapman.
The great newspaperman. The great guy.
There ought to be a special Pulitzer Prize
for the world's biggest sucker, McCleary.
Just another one of your stupid slobs!
Things happen, Steve,
and then there's just no end.
Killing my wife was an accident.
And Charlie. Charlie Barnes,
who never hurt a fly in his life.
A washed-up drunken rummy
who had nothing to live for
against a career
that was just reaching its prime.
- It wasn't an even exchange.
- You've got a great career ahead of you now.
That's all down the drain.
I gotta to make different plans now.
You should have started running
when you got my wire, sucker!
I gambled.
The stakes are big enough, you don't run
unless there's nothing else left to do.
Don't try it, kid.
Steve!
We're just too close, kid.
I figured I'd find you birds here.
Still playing me for a pushover, aren't you?
Steve, you remember how I told you
that someday you'd run into
a really great story?
Well, this one ought to do it, huh?
Yeah, this one will do.
I'll give you the lead on it.
"The elusive Lonely Heart Killer,
"object of a nationwide search
for the past two weeks,
"was last night trapped in the office
of the New York Express.
"He was apprehended
due to the persistence of a reporter
"who learned his trade
from the killer himself.
"The murderer was revealed
to be Mark Chapman,
"Managing Editor of the New York Express."
- Write it up big, kid. It'll sell a lot of papers.
- All right, drop it, Chapman.
Just take your time
and tell me what happened.
He had this meat ax, her blood all over it.
My brother-in-law had it.
Blood all over his hands, all over his shirt.
I can't talk about it, Officer.
I know it's rough, lady,
but I have to have the facts.
He comes staggering out in the hall.
He says, "I did it. Call the cops."
And then he...
Snap it up, Captain.
Lieutenant Davis just blew in.
What's he going to do, Officer?
- I'm not a cop, lady.
- But you said...
All I said was,
"I had to ask you some questions."
I'm from the Express.
You made me go through all that.
Why, you're not decent! You're not human!
- Sorry, lady. All part of the job.
- Well, well, Lieutenant Davis.
- Say, this must have been a homicide.
- Hi, Lieutenant. Wait till you hear it.
- A messy one.
- You keep pulling stuff like this, McCleary,
and so help me, if it's the last thing I do,
I'll run you in! Now, that's a warning!
This is KL-75263. Get me Plaza-52099.
You know, that wasn't a bad-Iooking dame.
Too bad the guy used an ax on her head.
Spoiled some pretty pictures for me.
Hey, Mark, have you put on the gloves
with those stockholders yet?
Hi. No, I'm just taping up my hands.
Well, you can tell them we got
another neat and gory one coming up.
Hatchet murder. Lower East Side tenement.
Wrapped up an exclusive interview
with an eyewitness.
You got plenty of art?
Yeah. Biddle grabbed all he could
of the body.
A dame, very messy.
Got a great hysterical close-up of her sister.
I'll even write the caption for you.
"I seen him with a bloody meat ax."
Good. With that, I can sell papers.
Give it to rewrite and we'll get it in the final.
Hold on. What do you want?
Mr. Madison called down
from the boardroom again, Mr. Chapman.
You hear that?
I'm letting them stew in their financial juices.
Well, don't overdo it. I like this job.
You've never gone backwards
with me before, have you, kid?
If we leave here, we'll bounce into
a bigger setup. I'll see you when you get in.
As one of the largest stockholders
in this corporation,
I would like to know
why the New York Express,
once a distinguished
and respected newspaper,
has been allowed to become
a cheap and depraved publication.
Why has an editor been allowed
to turn a decent journal into this?
A disgusting tabloid!
Pandering to the passions
of the base morons!
I demand an explanation, Frank Madison.
Well, Mrs. Rawley, I...
In defense of Mark Chapman, I...
Mr. Madison, I'd like to handle
my own defense, if you don't mind.
Just as you say, Mark.
Mrs. Rawley, I think you
and the other stockholders should know
that your publisher hired me
as executive editor
with full rights to transform this newspaper.
He did this for a very simple reason.
He was fed up with operating at a loss.
Why did Mr. Madison hire me?
Well, he felt it was time that the Express
buried its antiquated negative approach,
such as this.
But who won?
And become a positive newspaper.
We're in a business, ladies and gentlemen,
a business of satisfying the hunger
of the public for thrills, escape and news.
Here's where I took over
your highly respectable white elephant.
Instead of headlining a UN story,
we gave them a vice story.
Obviously, they went for it.
We played down
the presidential appointments
and concentrated
on the "Gorilla Man" killings.
Here's what happened.
Thirty or forty thousand new readers.
Why, in a year, circulation's up over 110%.
And when we reach 750,000,
we'll have to pay you a big bonus.
I'm not sure I like this at all.
Did you like the dividend check
you got last month
for the first time in 12 years?
I don't like this, sir.
What kind of journalism is this?
A newspaper
staging a cheap, vulgar display
in order to attract
the stupid slobs of the city!
The thousands who will attend
the Lonely Heart dance tonight,
these poor, friendly, unhappy people
whom you call stupid slobs,
buy and read this newspaper.
Their loyalty helped put that dividend check
in your pocket.
And I suppose you think it's a public service
when one of your reporters is arrested
for withholding information from the police?
Or whatever it was.
This, what's his name, McCleary person,
and the things he writes about!
I think he should be fired!
This McCleary person
is the best young reporter I've seen
in 25 years of newspapering.
Before I'll fire him,
I'll throw the Express up for grabs
and go to work for somebody
who appreciates real talent on a paper!
- Mark, I'm sure...
- One last thing.
The only contract I have here is a handshake
between Mr. Madison and myself.
Now, unless you give me full rights
to run this paper the way I want,
I'll quit after the final edition today.
Now, I'm sorry I can't stay with you
any longer. I have a newspaper to get out!
- Your story ready, Miss Allison?
- I'll have the rest in a minute, Joey.
Mr. Chapman?
Thanks.
McCleary story in yet, Bax?
How'd you make out in the torture chamber?
This is good. Give it a big play.
Mac'll do a byline follow-up tomorrow.
- What are these?
- Pics for that Lonely Heart spread.
- Junk them.
- But I...
Take Peters off the Lonely Hearts.
He's photographing these slobs
like a lineup in a soup kitchen
instead of panting for a red-hot romance.
- Okay. But I...
- Yeah?
Yes, Mr. Madison.
- Get an ax, smear it with blood.
- Yeah? Whose?
Yours. If you can't spare any,
use chocolate syrup or something.
Chocolate? Goody! When I'm through,
I can make a plate of fudge. Drop in.
So, you still insist a woman having 20 kids
is worth a feature article?
Hi, genius.
I think it's worth a whole front page.
It scares me, this maternal instinct of yours.
Decided where you're taking me
to dinner tonight?
If Chapman hasn't been canned,
you're going to dine with the worst loser
who ever paid off a bet.
Then you'd better stash some
bicarbonate soda in your bag, princess.
You're gonna need it.
Don't count your steaks
before you hear the sizzle.
Well, what's the word? Are you ex or still?
They're not dumb enough
to throw out a winner.
Congratulations. I knew you'd stick
their stocks right back in their teeth.
I told them if they fired me,
McCleary would quit, too,
and then they'd be in real trouble.
I wouldn't put it past them
to try and dump you
to get out of paying the bonus that's
staring them right in their glassy eyes.
I've got news for you.
I'm going to cut you in
for a piece of that bonus.
What do you want me to do, retire?
I thought we could make a deal with Madison
to buy some of the company's stock.
You know, kid,
we could end up owning this newspaper.
- Well, that's the best offer I've had all week.
- I'll make you another one.
I'll take you to dinner tonight.
You pick the spot.
I'll make you a better offer.
My date's buying. She lost a bet.
The Grand Duchess from Vassar again?
The way I feel, I can put up with anything.
- I'm more worried, can she put up with you?
- Get her ready.
We've got to be at the ballroom at 8:00.
There's no time for nose powder.
Don't break your ears with that grin.
I can see. He's still in.
- No loud whoops of joy, baby?
- Well, I tried everything.
I crossed my fingers,
said prayers, burned candles.
- Who's your tailor, princess?
- Let's get out of here.
I've had to look at that Chapman face all day.
I've got to cover his fiasco tonight
and suffer some more.
At least just looking at you for an hour
will be a welcome change.
- Lf you're taking me to dinner, let's go.
- Taking him?
Wait a minute.
Our bet was between you and me.
Our bet was loser buys dinner.
We didn't say for how many.
- Why, you double-crossing...
- I knew you'd be a good loser.
Someday remind me to tell you about girls.
You talk a couple of these suckers
into getting married.
These Lonely Heart slobs got the gimmies,
and we've got plenty to give them
from the advertisers.
If you talk one couple
into getting married by 9:00,
by 12:00 we'll have a dozen lined up
for wedded bliss.
- McCleary, the Brooklyn cupid.
- McCleary, the human yes man.
Hey, Julie!
- Hello, Charlie.
- Charlie.
- How are you, Barnes?
- Fine, Mark. You're looking fit. McCleary.
Thank you.
What goes on? Are you ghosting
Allison's features, Charlie?
No, he's helping me with research
for that series
on historical monuments in New York.
You couldn't pick a better man.
I ought to know.
Remember those old days, Mark?
Like the time I cut the phone cables
at the Lindbergh trial?
You scooped me. Almost cost me my job.
Scooped you, the wire services,
scooped everybody. That was the year...
That was the year you won the Pulitzer Prize.
Listen, Mark.
This stuff I've been doing for Julie, it's...
- Mark, I think I'm ready to go back to work.
- That's fine. I'm glad to hear it, Charlie.
How about it, Mark? How about a job?
- Why not?
- Thanks.
- Charlie, I'm so proud of you!
- This is gonna take a little juggling.
I won't be able to do anything right away.
Look, Charlie, I'll call you.
We're late, we gotta rush.
Sure, Mark, I know how it is,
always on the go.
- Coffee in the morning? Skinners?
- Sure thing, Julie.
All the time I thought you were a...
- How much did you give him?
- $10. He earned it.
Ten bucks?
- Buy a lot of whiskey.
- Did you see that rum-dumb?
- Come midnight, he'll be in the gutter.
- Now, wait a minute.
He's an alky, Julie.
You shouldn't give an alky
more than a buck at a time.
You're liable to kill him.
Ten bucks, he can take a bath in it.
But... Well, this job
will change everything for him.
Job? I wouldn't have him in my office,
let alone on my staff.
In you go, sucker. Where are you going?
I'm not going to let him go off believing this.
- Do you want to break his heart?
- Do I? What do you think you're doing?
I'm giving him hopes and dreams.
A rummy like that lives on dreams.
- He's happy. Why spoil it?
- Happy? Happy like your Lonely Hearts,
looking forward to those big romances
they've been promised?
- Only Charlie's romance is with a bottle.
- Get in.
Biddle, don't leave that camera at half mast.
Stop goldbricking on the other guys.
I must have got 100 shots already,
Mr. Chapman. My arm's giving out.
You've only started. I want shots of people
from every state. Now start shooting.
How are you doing, princess?
Well, it's an effort,
but I'm trying to keep from screaming.
You were a real bundle of laughs
during dinner, too.
Why don't you simmer down now?
You're not so pretty
when your feathers are all ruffled.
Don't, Steve. I'm in no mood for levity.
- Do you feel like dancing?
- Do you figure that'll smooth my feathers?
I've got a great idea for you. Grab yourself
one of these Lonely Heart boys.
Tell him you're a club date. Con him.
Get his life history.
- And there's your feature for tomorrow.
- Mark Chapman, Junior.
It'll sell papers, you left that out.
Happy hunting, cupid.
Mustn't let the boss down.
Save at least one dance for me, princess.
Every time I aim my lens
at one of these walking zombies,
I think of the time
I covered the Miss America contest.
The tears almost start to flow.
From McCleary, you get nothing but service.
Ten minutes before 9:00,
and couple number one. Mary and Joe
met in front of the Arkansas booth.
It was love at first sight, almost. Right?
Well, sure. I'm from Texas,
but I sure love that Arkansas cooking.
- You love her, don't you?
- Well, sure, I reckon so.
- Mary, you love him?
- Yes.
- See, they're crazy about each other.
- Yeah, that's fine. Hey, Edwards.
We've got a romance going here.
They're ready for the orange blossoms.
- Well, how do you do? And congratulations.
- Save the teeth for the bandstand.
Get up there
and make the big announcement.
Yes, sir, Mr. Chapman.
Come with me, you lucky, lucky people.
Hey, you ain't gonna forget about the bed
with the built-in television set?
You'll spend your honeymoon in front of it.
- Nice going, Steve, keep punching.
- I'll get the camera boys up to cover it.
- Did you find a feature to write about yet?
- I haven't, and I don't intend to.
This bribing of poor, ignorant dopes
into a public wedding
is cheap, cruel and disgusting.
This whole Wild West show is ridiculous,
and I want no part of it.
Miss Allison,
your contract has six months to run.
My contract was made with Mr. Madison
before you took over the Express.
If you don't like the way I run the paper,
I have an agreement
that might be satisfactory to both of us.
Take six months' vacation with pay!
No, thank you, Mr. Chapman. I'll work it out.
I like my feature writing.
Thinking people like it, too,
even though there aren't many of them
buying the Express anymore. Good night!
That's it.
Friends, brothers and sisters
in the Lonely Hearts Club.
I have wonderful news for you,
living proof that this magnificent club
is more than just a name.
But first, how would you like to meet
the great man who created your club?
Mr. Mark Chapman,
editor of the New York Express.
Put the spotlight on him, over there!
Now here's the wonderful news.
Meet Mary and Joe, two happy people
who came here tonight as total strangers.
They met, they danced, they found love.
They're going to get married!
George?
- As the first couple who fell in love tonight...
- George Grant!
...Mary and Joe will receive...
- It is you!
...compliments of the Express...
- Charlotte.
... a wedding night in a New York hotel...
Finding you here...
I was so sure that you must be dead.
George Grant is dead.
Yes, I just heard.
- You're the...
- We can't talk here.
We can talk at my place, George.
We've got a lot to talk about.
Go on out. I'll meet you at the side entrance.
The years have been kinder to you.
What is it, 19, 20?
I used to keep track, but I don't...
What's the difference?
Now that you found me, what do you want?
May I?
- Come on, quit stalling around.
- What was it they called you at the ball?
- Mark?
- Chapman.
When did you change your name, George?
Right after you left me?
So I wouldn't find you?
You knew I was so crazy about you
I'd look and look and look,
didn't you, George?
Come on, get to it. What do you want?
You're still in a hurry, aren't you?
That's the thing I remember best about you.
The fellow who always ran and never walked.
Had to get places fast!
And you got places, didn't you, George?
Here, you need some money?
Here's some for now.
Money? The payoff, George?
How much? How much for each year?
How much for the agony
and the heartbreak and the fear?
- Charlotte, cut the ham act.
- This could be for the doctor bill, see?
I was 20 years younger then,
took things more seriously.
I can't imagine how much.
You're boring me now, like you always did.
People always bored you
when you didn't have
any more use for them, didn't they, George?
Bores and nuisances, I get rid of them.
Yeah, the same gentle way
you got rid of me.
My lawyer will get in touch with you.
He'll arrange a quiet divorce
and generous alimony.
You're an important man now,
aren't you, George?
Editor of the New York Express.
I never thought I'd be the wife of the editor
of a big New York newspaper.
You're not, and don't get any ideas
about forcing yourself.
You've got nothing to gain by refusing me
a divorce now like you did 20 years ago.
I was young then and so foolishly in love.
I wanted so much to hold onto you.
I made all of my mistakes when I was young,
and you were the biggest one.
I fell for an attractive hunk of flesh.
"Hold me." You didn't try to hang on.
You strangled me.
I'd smother to death with you.
Turnabout's fair play.
When you walked out on me, I died inside.
When I walk out of here, you're gonna die.
Everything you worked for, grabbed for,
ruined people to get, it's all gonna die!
You're a neurotic screwball!
I'm gonna spread your story all over town.
Mark Chapman, the great editor!
Wife deserter!
Living under a false name for 20 years.
What else did you cover up
living under a phony name?
Your publishers are gonna love this.
And the other papers, they'll cut you
to ribbons with this information!
Hi, honey, let me have the city room.
This is Elkins.
If you need me, I'm over in Skinners.
What? Having breakfast. Yeah, breakfast.
Yes, Julie, after that fortunate
and historical meeting with Mark yesterday,
I had considerable difficulty
wooing the fickle Morpheus.
That explains it.
Those bleeding eyes today.
Well, I did have a couple
with the boys down below.
A sort of celebration, and then farewell.
You should have left them long ago, Charlie.
Any man who was big enough
in his day to rate that,
a place in Skinner's Hall of Fame,
is still too big for Dead-End Street.
No regrets, Julie. My temporary alliance
with the denizens of the Bowery
has provided me with a deeper insight
into the whys and wherefores of mankind.
A proven medical fact,
when the human system
has been lengthily nurtured
on alcoholic stimulants,
any abrupt cessation of same
will result in a negative reaction.
Absolutely.
But I'm tapering off. I'll be a firmly-rooted
passenger on the old water wagon
by the time Mark's ready for me.
Charlie, don't bet everything
on Mark Chapman.
He won't let me down.
First time I felt ready, I asked him for a job,
and what happened?
He offered me one, didn't he?
- Mr. Lonely Heart.
- Compliments of the Express, Myrtle.
- I see you read. You stick with the radio.
- Yeah.
Hey, McCleary,
I read that rag of yours by accident.
Yeah, me, too.
From ax murder to Ionely hearts.
What are you trying to prove,
you're versatile or something?
What are you gentlemen
reading our rag for?
Trying to find out
what's happening that's news?
Good morning, kiddies. What's the word?
Silly, that's the word.
Still a heaping bunch of joy,
aren't you, princess?
Lonely Hearts Ball. Journalism has certainly
changed since the old days.
What happened to you last night?
Pulled a fast fade on me.
- Don't tell me you actually missed me?
- I needed protection.
Some of our love-hungry subscribers
got mixed up.
They were offering me deep-freezes
and vacuum cleaners.
- I'm surprised you refused.
- How do you know I did?
Certainly heavy coverage
on the unrequited passion set.
Our love and romance edition, Charlie.
Even the crossword puzzle.
But nothing from the Allison corner.
Not interested in romance, Julie?
Not the kind that blossoms
on free gas stoves and television sets.
- About that Lonely Heart gag, I've got a...
- Steve, on the radio.
- Julie. Hi, Charlie.
- Hi, Biddle.
Police call. Dead dame in a flat
on Third Avenue. Are you interested?
Well, she'd probably be a cheerful change.
I'm still getting the icebox treatment
from the female on my left.
After them scarecrows I shot last night,
I figure my luck's gotta change.
Even dead, this dame's bound
to have more glamour.
Let's give her a look.
Thanks for the coffee, kitten.
Another scarecrow. I'm batting goose eggs.
Dames have got to make trouble
even when they die, don't they, pal?
Yeah, water downstairs and water upstairs.
Probably wanted a room
with a swimming pool.
Hey, Davis, what are you doing here?
I just wanted to see if I couldn't get
to one of our calls before you did.
This isn't a homicide?
We got a new man
on the beat here, McCleary.
He's built like you between the ears.
He saw a hole in the back of the dame's head
and figured she was slugged.
What's your guess, Lieutenant?
She put the hole
in the back of her head herself?
Yeah, wise-eyes, that's it. That's it exactly.
She slipped in the tub
and opened her skull on a faucet.
- What was the lady's name, Sherlock?
- The landlady says Jane Jones.
- Do you believe it?
- Yeah, I believe it.
I'm fresh out of nursery school.
Jane Jones, alias Jane Doe.
Say, Dave, you're really humming.
Look, nuisance, if you so much as make
these bedsprings squeak once again,
- I'll throw you in the tub with the dame.
- Lieutenant, please.
You're wrong, Dave.
She was murdered. Clear as your head.
Murdered for her money.
Why, this lady must have spent easily
six or seven dollars a year on clothes.
Why don't you go home, McCleary?
There's nothing around here
to interest a big newsman like you.
Look, junior, keep your nose
in your own business, or I'll run you in
- for obstruction, suspicion and vagrancy.
- Why, sure, Dave.
I just thought there might be something
in here to help identify her.
No suitcase, huh?
- In there, boys.
- Okay, Steve, I got all I need.
Thanks, Dave.
- No, not you two again.
- What do you guys do,
smell these things
before the police call is even in?
Try to forget your mugs.
There's a lady in the bathroom.
- Yes, so knock before entering.
- Coming through.
- What'd you pinch that for?
- Look familiar?
I had them in front of me all night, didn't I?
Hey, that's off a Lonely Hearts badge!
Yeah. How many pictures
did you and the boys take at the ball?
Three, maybe four hundred. I don't know.
Rush the print of Miss Bathtub
through the lab.
Then check it against the others.
- See if you can match them up, okay?
- Sure.
- Shouldn't take more than a week.
- Yeah, but I want it done in an hour.
- I'll see you at the office.
- Where are you going?
I'm gonna hitch a ride to the morgue.
If you match them, call me.
How about a ride to the morgue, Pete?
Hey, Needle Nellie, anybody home?
Hey, handsome.
- How you doing, sweetheart?
- Doing all right, handsome.
Come here and give us a kiss.
- How's business at the morgue, Nellie?
- Dead.
Business is dead.
- It's good to see you, handsome.
- Likewise, sweetheart.
A long time between dates.
But right now,
I come seeking your expert female advice.
Anybody that's lived as long as me
can give it. Shoot.
Nellie, if you had just one dress
to your name
and you'd fastened something onto it
with a safety pin,
and maybe you were in a hurry,
would you take time to undo the pin,
or would you rip the whole thing off?
- This is a riddle?
- No, seriously.
Well, if I had 10 dresses and the house
was burning down, I'd still undo the pin.
Any lady would.
That's what I figured.
I just wanted a woman to confirm it.
I love you, Nellie. I love you.
- Where you going, handsome?
- I gotta see the doc.
Maybe I can get you some business, Nellie.
Did you get those ringside ducats
I sent you?
Steve! Yeah, it was a great fight.
Mishke really tore that Haybelly apart,
didn't he?
Had so much blood spattered on my glasses,
I missed the knockout punch.
Look, Doc,
they just brought in an accidental death.
- They're putting her in the freezer right now.
- So?
So, I'd like you to give her
the onceover for me. An autopsy.
Accidents are out of my province.
You know that, Steve.
It's going to be
a great World Series this year.
Yeah, that it is.
I don't suppose you'd be interested
in viewing the festivities from a box seat?
Are you trying to bribe a city official?
Right behind first base, Doc.
Yeah. Yeah, get some prints ready.
I think we've got our front page.
Well, this is your lucky day. Drop back,
I want you to mark my racing form.
Get the door, will you?
Yeah, and don't forget, I smoke cigars.
- Hey, Steve, let me wipe those off a little.
- Wipe them tomorrow.
Will you smile again
if I take you to dinner tonight?
- A little celebration coming up.
- What's the celebration?
Another McCleary scoop.
Getting monotonous, isn't it?
That dinner. A two-party celebration,
or are you bringing a friend?
Just you and me alone.
I'll smile again.
What are the fragile treasures?
Very rare items.
Pictures of a dame with her mouth shut.
- Joey, catch the door, will you?
- All right.
I've been waiting a long time
for a chance to say this.
- Stop the presses!
- Did you get a morning-after story
on any of those couples
we married last night?
I got a story from one
of the Lonely Heart Ball guests, all right.
But she didn't get married last night.
She got murdered!
- Who is she?
- A Jane Doe. Nobody knows her real name.
The police think she slipped in the bathtub
and bashed her head in,
- or they did until a little while ago.
- But you knew better all the time?
After Doc O'Hanlon got through
cutting her up for me.
She died between 9:00 and 12:00 last night,
before she went under in the tub.
No water in her lungs.
Did he find anything else?
Yeah, her killer was a man, middle-aged,
fair complexion. Had brown hair.
O'Hanlon found that
in scraping under her fingernails.
You ran into this
just by playing a hunch, huh?
A string from a Lonely Heart badge
was on her dress in the closet.
The badge had been torn off.
I followed through from there.
Well, is this a story,
this Lonely Heart murdered after the ball?
Can you sell papers with this?
Baxter, Jordan, Allison,
get in here right away.
They didn't know her name, you said?
Well, she called herself Jane Jones.
How phony can you get?
We've just been struck by lightning.
It's a great follow-up
for the Lonely Hearts Ball.
Tell them about it, Steve.
We'll call her Miss Lonely Heart,
no other name. Alone in the city, friendless.
She went to our shindig last night,
hunting for a soul mate.
Maybe she found one, the wrong one.
Anyway, she left early,
and sometime before midnight
she was beaten to death in her room
by a brown-haired, middle-aged man
of fair complexion.
A smash follow-up is right.
The killer had a head full of brains.
Good nerves.
He lugged her to the bathroom,
stripped her, tossed the body in the tub.
No. No, he stood the body in the tub.
Aimed, let go!
Bang, her head cracks the faucet.
Almost perfect crime. Ordinary accident.
He's working smartly,
a guy with imagination.
He takes her slip, stockings,
washes them, hangs them up to dry.
He wipes his prints off everywhere.
He starts getting rid of anything
that could identify her.
He took a ring off her,
probably a wedding or engagement ring.
- How do you know that?
- Whitish circle, third finger, left hand.
- O'Hanlon spotted it at the morgue.
- All right, go on, go on.
Well, he grabs any other personal items
that might identify her
and throws them in her suitcase and blows.
- How do you know she's got a suitcase?
- Every dame's got a suitcase.
But there wasn't one
in Miss Lonely Heart's room.
This'll kick up the circulation.
We can make the 5:00 edition exclusive.
Steve can do the lead story.
Jordan, I want three column cuts
of the dame's picture at the ball
and the murder photo.
Allison, write me a sob story,
"Miss Lonely Heart
won't be Ionely anymore."
Fine job, Steve.
Sure, it's a great job,
but we're gonna top it.
How?
- Bury her.
- Bury her?
The best story I ever dug up, and he tops it.
By 5:00 tonight, Miss Lonely Heart
will be selling newspapers for us
on every street corner in Manhattan.
Now, go on, get going.
Be seeing you, Humpty.
Look, I've shown you everything in the shop.
That's the last one I've got!
Mark!
- Mark, old boy!
- How are you, Charlie.
What distasteful mission brings you to this
unholy neighborhood, Mark, my friend?
I'm just looking around.
I like to keep my hand in,
even though I am strapped
to a desk right now.
You wouldn't mean you're keeping
your hand in by working
on this Lonely Heart murder,
would you, now, Mark?
I've got a staff to take care of that for me.
You can't kid an old newshound
like me, Mark.
Still following our old formula,
first check the hock shops for a clue?
Didn't wanna tip your hand
to those cops in there, did you?
I tell you I'm not down here on business.
Now stop playing hawkshaw!
Let me show you Charlie Barnes
still has the master's touch
- when it comes to following up a lead, Mark.
- Tell me about it later, will you,
- when you come back to work for me?
- You're afraid I'll get drunk and tip the story.
- I'm tapering off, Mark.
- That's fine, Charlie. I'll call you.
Let me work this with you, Mark. I know
this whole district from gutter to rum-heads.
Pete in the pawnshop's
an honored friend of mine.
- Yeah.
- I can get him to work with me and...
- Hello, Charlie!
- Go away.
- Here, Charlie, here's something to count.
- I don't want a handout, Mark.
- I want to work.
- You can pay me later. I'll call you, Charlie.
Mark, let me help...
Hang onto them, Pete.
We'll drop back payday
and look them over again.
Them guys should wear glasses.
They do so much looking,
but never no buying.
Get this for me, Pete.
Taking something out for a change
instead of putting it in, Charlie?
I admit to the novelty of the occasion, Peter.
- Hey, you didn't hock this with me.
- Doing a favor for a friend.
Them cops. You know, if someday
they should buy something from me, I'd...
No, that'd be bad. I'd drop dead.
You know, Charlie, I ought to be
in some other kind of business.
You really meet a very poor class of people
in this business.
Not meaning anything personal,
you understand.
But I'm always dealing with people
who are in trouble,
people who gotta hock something.
People who gotta buy something cheap.
I don't like cheap things.
I never did and I never will.
I should have been big fur man, maybe,
or big jewelry man.
Then I could deal with rich people.
That's the kind of people
I really prefer to deal with.
- Hey! How much is on this ticket?
- Two bucks.
Here, sign here.
You know, sometimes they say
even the rich people aren't happy.
But how that could be, I don't know.
Thank you, Peter.
Thank you for being in business!
Thank you very much.
A shot, Heeney.
You look like your blood pressure's boiling,
Charlie. What's the matter?
The classic irony of the age, Heeney.
Charlie Barnes, a stewbum,
rocking the newspaper world
like he never did in all his sober days.
- Composing.
- Yes, sir.
Yes. Yes, madam,
I have two answers for you.
First, you shouldn't talk
to strange men in bars.
Second, because he asked you to marry him
then hit you with a pretzel dish
when you refused
isn't conclusive proof
he's our Lonely Heart Killer,
but thanks for calling, lady. Bye.
Phony or not,
those tips belong to the police.
When are you going to get rid of the idea
you're wearing an invisible badge?
Julie Allison. Hello, Charlie. How are you?
The Lonely Heart murder?
And you've got to meet me right away.
We have to figure out how to handle this.
I know the killer, and it's dynamite.
Well, Charlie,
that story is really Steve McCleary's.
- I think you'd better talk to...
- No, no, Julie, I want you to have this.
Now I can repay you, Julie child,
for everything.
Julie, this is so... It's so tremendous,
it'll put both of us on top.
What? What, Julie?
Okay, okay, both of you meet me.
Maybe we will need
somebody like McCleary.
Steve, Charlie says
he has information on the murder.
- He's awfully excited about something.
- About two quarts full, probably.
Yeah, Charlie, what's up?
I wanted Julie to have this,
but she insists you be on in it.
I mean you be in on it.
- What's the matter, Charlie?
- No.
- What? You're not sore, are you?
- No, go away!
What? What have I got?
I've got the Lonely Heart Killer for you,
that's what!
Gee, Charlie, that's great.
You getting him crocked so he'll confess?
I haven't got him. I know who he is.
What?
Yes, I'm in a saloon.
I'm in Heeney's. But I'm not drunk.
I've just taken the hottest story
of the century out of hock, and I'm gonna...
He's really flying tonight.
See what your 10 bucks did?
Stop treating him like some
weak-minded child. Listen to what he's got.
- He's not this excited for nothing.
- You know what he's got? The DTs.
Charlie Barnes, tanked to the eyeballs,
says he just took the Lonely Heart
murder solution out of hock.
Hello, Charlie?
Still there? Let's start all over again.
Listen, you mental midget. The only reason
I'm calling the Express is Julie Allison.
Before I'd give this story
to an insolent young pup like you,
I'd take it to the Daily Leader!
Charlie's mad now.
Gonna sell it to the Leader.
- Hang up on the drunken slob.
- Julie? She just left.
I guess we'll just have to read your story
in the Leader tomorrow.
- So long, pal.
- Give me that.
- Hello? Hello?
- Don't be silly, Julie.
He'll just keep you up all night
listening to his fairytales.
- Where was he calling from?
- Bellevue psycho ward, I think he said.
Your 10 bucks.
- Keep this for me, Heeney.
- Why, sure, Charlie.
A couple hours.
One more, Heeney. One for the road.
Hello, Charlie.
Mark. I thought you were still down
at the Bowery.
I hear you got a story, Charlie.
Where'd you hear that?
- Isn't that what you told McCleary?
- Why, I was just schmoozing him, I...
Lining him up for a little touch.
I gave you some money.
What did you do with it?
You didn't, by any chance,
find a pawn ticket
- mixed in with the money, did you, Charlie?
- Pawn ticket? Why, I...
Did you use the money
to get the story out of hock, Charlie?
You've got something that belongs to me.
Where is it?
You were on the way to the Leader
with some evidence.
Where is it, Charlie? Where is it?
It's a wonderful story, isn't it, Charlie?
You wanted to be a big man, Mark.
This will make you famous
beyond your most ambitious dreams.
Great story?
I've waited all my life for a story like this.
Well, you've got it, Charlie.
But you're not going to write it.
You're crazy, Mark.
Twenty years you've covered the news.
Seen the bright boys try this. It never works.
We just heard about Charlie Barnes.
Rotten deal.
It's hard when it's someone like Charlie
you've known for 22 years.
I knew him 25 years.
I never expected to see him
laying on a slab in this place.
Is that right, Doc? Was he found
in an alleyway across from the Daily Leader?
- Steve...
- Yes, that's right.
The Daily Leader. He had a story!
But he was taking your clever,
insolent, fresh-guy advice
- and giving it to the Leader!
- He was drunk, Julie. How could I know...
Charlie Barnes never got so drunk
he didn't know a story!
Or that he'd try to peddle
a phony tip to a newspaper! But you...
You couldn't bother listening to him!
You and that newsprint hero of yours,
Mark Chapman.
You couldn't expect us to believe
that Charlie Barnes
had any real information
on the murder, Julie.
We still don't know that he did.
If you and that stone-hearted, glory seeking,
"I am the great Mark Chapman"
had thrown Charlie
the miserable crumb of respect
of just listening to him, he'd be alive today!
Julie, maybe you're right.
Maybe it is partly my fault Charlie's dead.
I'm sorry. Really sorry. But what can I do?
Don't go soft! Show Chapman
you're a chip off the old block.
Have him give Charlie a fancy funeral.
Great headline.
"The Express buries its cast-offs."
It'll sell papers!
Kenny, rewrite that one paragraph, will you?
Allison had a bad night. Yeah.
I just got yesterday's figures
from circulation, Mark.
Six hundred and ninety-six thousand.
You're moving up there.
Looks as though it's going to cost
the Express some bonus money before long.
Quicker than you can say,
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Stockholder Rawley!"
We're only starting,
Mr. Madison, only starting.
That's the spirit!
When you get to the editor's chair,
remember one thing.
You're a hero with a lifetime job,
as long as the circulation is rising.
- What have you got there?
- Something that will keep circulation rising.
Charlie Barnes' story.
What are you talking about?
Charlie wasn't near the Daily Leader
by accident, Mark.
He had something to print.
I couldn't find it in his effects
at the morgue this morning,
but I found it at Heeney's bar,
the joint Charlie phoned from last night.
Half a pawnshop ticket was still on the bag.
Pete's Hock Shop. I checked it.
Charlie came in the pawnshop last night
with a claim check.
Said he was unhocking it for a friend.
Well, what's in the bag?
Miss Lonely Heart's name and address?
Better than that, Mark.
Much better than that.
A picture of the guy who killed her.
A picture?
You can't even see the guy's face!
What's the matter, Mark?
This is the first real lead we've got.
The way you talked,
I thought we had it all sewed up.
Sure, it's a lead, but it's a thin one.
How much does this give us?
Well, we're certain the dame had a husband.
They were married in 1931 in Connecticut.
- The husband's the guy who killed her.
- How do you make that?
The ring mark on her finger
must have been a wedding ring.
The inscription inside
could have identified him.
And he grabbed the pawn ticket
figuring she'd hocked some belongings
- that might peg him.
- Makes sense.
Charlie got the pawn ticket from the killer.
He must have been with him sometime,
someplace, yesterday.
A lot of people
could have seen them together, right?
Could have.
Splash this picture
on the front page tonight.
Offer a reward for information.
"Lonely Heart Killer strikes again."
When you write the story,
say that Barnes was working on this case
undercover for the Express.
He got too close to the killer
and died in the line of duty.
Mark, I don't know, it...
Nobody can deny it. It'll help sell papers.
We'll offer $1,000.
Look, kid, don't pin your hopes
on anybody being able
to spot the guy from this.
Unless they got x-ray eyes.
I'm sure Charlie connected
the guy in the picture
with the bird who gave him the pawn ticket.
I'm going to fine-tooth the Bowery myself.
It's even money
that's where Charlie ran into our man.
Good luck, kid.
- Well, I got them for you, McCleary.
- Good work, Heeney.
Well, this does it. I'll never touch
another drop the rest of my life.
'Course some of them
been sucking on the bottle all night,
but they can still stand up.
- They all knew Charlie?
- Yeah, they all knew him.
If you give McCleary here
any bum information, I'll brain you.
And I might even do worse.
No more free shots
when you're seeing little red spiders.
How many of you boys saw Charlie Barnes
the day he was killed? Raise your hands.
All right, raise your mitts,
them that seen Charlie day before yesterday.
Good.
- Where did you see him?
- See who?
- This guy must be used to talking to mirrors.
- Charlie Barnes.
I seen him come out of a joint
where he flopped in the morning.
You, where'd you see him?
- Humpty O'Dougal's saloon.
- What time?
In the afternoon. Late in the afternoon.
Charlie had a nice little bun on.
Was he with anybody?
With anybody?
Sure, he was with somebody.
Charlie never drank by himself
if he had a little cash on him.
- Well, do you know the guy he was with?
- Certainly I know who he was with.
- Well, who was it?
- Me. He sprung me three slugs.
When did you see him?
When did you see him?
- This morning.
- Throw him out of here.
- Wait a minute!
- What are you talking about?
- Now, is there any more jokers in the crowd?
- I seen him.
Yeah? Well, go on. Where'd you see him?
On the street near Pete's Hock Shop.
- Go on, go on.
- Nothing. He was working a sucker.
- Giving him the pally act, that's all.
- Now think hard.
Do you remember the sucker?
Do you remember what he looks like?
- Maybe.
- What do you mean, "Maybe"?
- Maybe for 50 bucks.
- Why you...
Do you think you could remember
for 1,000 bucks?
Who could tell who he is?
Can you describe
the man you saw Charlie with?
Do I get $1,000 if I do?
You do. If and when we find the guy.
- Sure, I can describe him.
- Well, go ahead.
- You paying the reward?
- No, but my boss is.
- Then I'll describe it to him.
- Okay. Come on.
Rush this over to the composing room.
Kenny, see if you can figure out
a heading for that rubbish.
Connie! Connie, take this.
Wait here.
Look, Lieutenant,
just refer the captain to me.
I'll tell him he's cropping at the best
homicide man he ever had on the force.
If he doesn't know that,
he's deaf, dumb and blind.
Yeah, never mind the malarkey, Chapman!
The next time
you people pull a stunt like this,
I'll throw both you and McCleary in the can!
Okay, Lieutenant, okay.
I give you my word. Goodbye, pal.
Davis is screaming because we gave him
the suitcase only a half hour
before he read it in the Express.
Well, I've got something
that ought to make him happy again.
Not another suitcase?
A guy who can identify the man
Charlie got the pawn ticket from.
Hey, Bailey. Come in here.
He wouldn't describe the guy to me.
He needed the boss.
You the boss?
Yeah, and don't waste my time.
Where'd you see this guy with Charlie?
Down the street near Pete's Hock Shop.
You say you can describe him?
Well, go on. What did he look like?
Stand up, will you?
Yeah, just how I figured.
You figured what?
He was your size,
your build.
Could have been as old as you.
- Is that all?
- All you asked me was to describe him.
That was no description!
That could fit a million guys in this town.
- Even me.
- Well, how about the reward?
Here, take this down to the cashier
and pick yourself up five bucks.
- Show him where it is, Steve.
- Come on, Bailey.
Hey, Baxter, where's Julie?
She came in this morning,
banged this out on her typewriter,
and told me to give it to Chapman.
- What is it?
- Her resignation.
I figured I'd hang onto it a day or so.
Maybe she'd cool off.
I'm sure glad you did.
I'll take care of it for you, okay?
Baxter, thanks.
- Hello, Mrs. Allison.
- Well, hello, Steve. Come in.
Thank you.
I have a pot of coffee in the kitchen.
I'd better see to it.
Can I say a few words to you?
Without getting hit with a table
or something?
Speak your piece and get it over with.
I just got rocked
with a bad piece of news, Julie.
I heard about your resignation.
Well, I can't imagine
why you'd shed any tears over it.
Well, for what it's worth,
your resigning knocks the props
out of a lot of things for me.
That couldn't have come
from Steve McCleary.
Okay, pass it. But I didn't figure
your burn at Chapman and me
would be bigger than your wanting
to do something about Charlie's murder.
Don't start playing me
for a hollow-headed female now, Steve.
Your only interest, and Chapman's,
in Charlie's death is exploiting it
- for all the circulation jumping it's worth!
- Julie, I'm not digging on a story now
just for the school-boy bang of seeing
my name over a sensational yarn.
Yeah, that's right, I had to get hit pretty hard
before I smartened up.
But now I'm leveling
on the Charlie Barnes business.
Well, if I can believe what I'm hearing,
this certainly is a different McCleary.
I've been working night and day.
All I've done is run the local leads
to a dead end.
There's only one gimmick left to follow.
This picture, the marriage in Connecticut.
It's odd the person who married them
hasn't recognized it.
Unless he's dead or hasn't seen the picture.
Yeah, I thought of that angle, too.
But it's a million-to-one shot.
A guy would have to be an elephant
to remember a face after 21 years.
Tell him about the elephant we met
on Fifth Avenue, about four years ago.
We were walking along the street when,
right out of the blue,
a complete stranger stopped me.
It turned out to be the little preacher
who married Julie's father and me
in Portland, Maine, 23 years before!
- And he actually was able to recognize you?
- And I'd put on a little weight since then.
They say a New Englander
seldom forgets a face.
Crazy odds, but what can we lose?
Yeah, get this picture
to every churchman, judge
and justice of the peace in Connecticut.
- It's certainly worth trying.
- It's a big job. Compiling lists,
- checking out leads.
- It can be done.
The two of us could handle it, Julie.
Well, I'd like to, Steve, but I've resigned.
And I'd sooner drop dead
than ask Mark Chapman for my job back.
- You dog!
- It never got past Baxter.
A list of churches in each town
is no problem.
The judges and JPs we can get
from the state legal directory in Hartford.
Yeah, you start packing.
Enough for a couple of weeks.
I'm going to the office
and get the lab boys started
on knocking out a few hundred circulars.
But suppose Chapman says no
to my working with you on it?
Why should he? Anyway, I'm not going
to tell him anything until we're ready to go.
Tonight sometime.
Mom, you think it's safe for me to travel
out of state at night with this young man?
Just so he doesn't misconstrue
the meaning of "freedom of the press."
Hey, you wonderful woman.
I'll check with you for dinner.
Steve, this is shot-in-the-dark stuff.
Mark, more rabbit-brained ideas than this
have paid off.
Your hottest lead is right here in town
where the murders were committed.
Yeah, our hottest lead was in town,
but it dried up like a puddle in July.
You're looking for a mental marvel,
a guy who can recognize somebody
he'd seen for 15 or 20 minutes
at a wedding ceremony
he performed 21 years ago.
How do we know he only saw them
for 15 or 20 minutes?
Maybe they were members of his church
or were married by a judge
or a justice in their own town.
Steve, you're off
on a needle-in-a-haystack hunt.
You can find a needle in a haystack
if you look long enough.
You don't think I'm gonna let you
hang around up there indefinitely, do you?
You won't have to. A week, probably.
Julie Allison's coming along to help me.
It's all arranged.
It's all arranged. And that five grand reward.
You arranged that, too?
No, you did, or will.
Mark, what's eating you?
I'm only checking out every possible angle.
Kid, I don't want you to beat your brains out.
We can get just so much
out of this Lonely Hearts story,
and then we'll start easing it off
and let it die a natural death.
Let it die? Mark, we let Charlie Barnes die!
The least we can do now is to find his killer.
You're the guy who pounded into me,
"Never give up till you've got the story."
Well, I'm not quitting on this one
until I've licked it.
You can reach me
at the Lenox Hotel in Hartford.
Long distance.
I want some information.
A telephone number
in Middlebury, Connecticut.
The name is Hacker. He's a judge.
I don't remember his first name.
You wish to place a call to this party?
No, no. Not yet, that is.
I just want to get his telephone number.
One moment, please.
Hello? The Middlebury operator
has no listing for anyone by that name.
There isn't?
Middlebury's a small town.
Will you ask the operator
if she knows anything
about Judge Hacker at all?
Is he deceased, moved away, or what?
One moment, please.
Hello? The local operator
has been in Middlebury for five years
and knows no one
by the name of Judge Hacker.
That's all the information she can give us.
Thanks.
No, Reverend,
I'm afraid that's not our couple.
You may be positive, Reverend,
but you're mistaken.
The woman in the photo we sent you
is dead.
Thank you for calling, Reverend.
You don't have to tell me.
It's written all over
your bright and shining face.
A 190-mile drive
to have a whack-head tell me
that both the people in our circular
died a year ago.
New Englanders remember, all right.
Every face is familiar to them.
Hello? Just a minute, here's Steve.
It's that man again. Every day.
Does he think we'll keep it a big fat secret
if we find something?
Yeah, Mark.
Nothing but an aching back
and some interesting meetings
with jelly-brained screwballs.
You've had enough time, Steve. Ten days.
Admit it's a dud. Come on home.
Two more days, Mark.
We'll stick it out to the end of the week.
Get out of the haystack. It's easier
to find the needles at the scene of the crime.
I'll see you.
Two more days. I don't even know myself
why we're sticking around.
Anything there that sounds good?
I'll read you a fair sample.
From a J.P. Waterbury.
"Send me $5,000
and I will tell you names of people."
A new head I'll send him.
I've got a headache.
I think I'll lie down for a while.
Why don't you lie down here?
I'll go to my room.
McCleary. Okay, put him on.
A guy calling from Franklin.
Hello? Yeah, that's right.
You do, huh?
- You've got what?
- What is it?
- Just a minute.
- I have the other picture right before me!
Yes, I married them July 19th, 1931,
over in Middlebury.
A funny thing. What's that?
Judge Elroy Hacker.
We'll be there in two hours, Judge.
Sit tight
and keep your mouth shut about this.
Bye.
Go on, get packed.
He's liable to drop dead on us or something.
For a man who can sit there
and watch his success increasing daily,
you're looking much too troubled, Mark.
It's just that these minor problems
always seem to require major thinking.
Well, perhaps we can balance
the unpleasant with the pleasant.
That conversation we had the other day
about your buying company stock.
- Yeah?
- I just thought I'd tell you,
- I think we can swing that.
- That's fine, Mr. Madison, just great.
Well, there doesn't seem to be any doubt
you'll reach that bonus figure.
It'll be pleasant having you as a partner,
- so to speak, in the paper, Mark.
- Thanks.
- Good night.
- Good night.
Sorry to keep you this late, Mark,
but we got hit with a mess of traffic
on the way in.
Your wire sounded important.
I found that needle,
or rather the man with the needle.
Judge Elroy Hacker,
Mark Chapman, Managing Editor.
- Glad to meet you, Judge.
- How do, Mr. Chapman?
- Sit down, Judge.
- Thanks.
Does the judge's needle sew anything up?
Everything but knotting the thread
at the end.
I mean the noose.
What have you got?
The identity of Mrs. Lonely Heart
and her husband.
Judge Hacker married them
in Middlebury, Connecticut.
Their names are Charlotte and George Grant.
Did you get that, Mark?
The name of the Lonely Heart Killer
is George Grant.
Yeah, I heard you. Go on.
Strike two. The judge is sure
he can identify George Grant
when he sees him again.
You see, I took this picture myself.
A little extra service
the judge gave his bridal couples.
Yes. I'd send them a print
and put one in my own scrapbook.
The judge even furnished
the "just married" sign.
Judge, you said
you married them in Middlebury,
- but Steve found you in Franklin.
- I retired seven years ago.
I'm partial to fishing,
so I moved over on the coast.
I only happened
to see your circular by chance,
in the office of a justice friend of mine.
I always said you were born
in a field of shamrocks.
Sure. The McClearys raised their kids
on nothing but rabbits' feet.
Judge, what makes you so sure
you can identify George Grant today?
Well, mainly because right after
I took that wedding picture,
this Grant got vexed at his wife
about something.
I can remember his voice, snapping at her.
His face getting red...
I know what's in your bonnet, Mark.
We still have to find George Grant.
A needle's nothing but a hunk of steel
if you've got nothing to sew.
We just need the thread.
I figure we'll pick that up
right here in New York.
When the police line up all the local
George Grants for the judge to look over.
That's Julie. I dropped her off
at headquarters to tell Davis what we've got.
Friend Davis is steaming
like a pressure cooker, as I said he would.
He'll simmer down.
So will your
lining up the George Grants idea.
Davis says he'll do nothing until you turn
Judge Hacker over to the police.
- Steve, you can't hold...
- Relax, doll. He'll see the judge later.
Not tonight he won't.
The judge is our exclusive beat.
Nobody gets to him
till our story breaks tomorrow.
I don't trust cops.
You and Julie start writing the story.
I'll put the judge in a side-street hotel
where nobody will get to him.
Come on, Judge.
I'll just wait for Mr. McCleary.
He was going to put me up at his place.
That's the first place
the wolves will start baying.
You better come with me, Judge.
No, I don't think it would be wise
for me to go with you, Mr. Grant.
- Mister...
- Chapman, Judge. Not Grant.
You'd better give your brain a rest.
You're gonna need it.
He may be Chapman now,
but 21 years ago, when I married them,
he was George Grant.
And he was a newspaperman.
I remember now. He said he worked
on the paper over in Waterford.
Waterford, Connecticut, was that town
I couldn't think of.
But I knew I'd remember that voice.
His face... You've changed.
But it's the same man.
You remember that $5,000 reward, though,
don't you, Judge?
Judge. This is impossible.
You're getting confused.
He sounds to me as though
he knows exactly what he's saying.
This is idiotic!
Screwball, crackbrained lunacy!
And that's just the kind of a witness
the judge is going to make, too, Steve.
The police have that specimen
of hair and flesh
found under Mrs. Grant's fingernails.
I think we'd better get in touch with Davis.
No phone, Allison.
Julie pegged you right off.
But me, still wet behind the ears McCleary.
I went for the sleigh ride.
I practically built the pedestal for Chapman.
The great newspaperman. The great guy.
There ought to be a special Pulitzer Prize
for the world's biggest sucker, McCleary.
Just another one of your stupid slobs!
Things happen, Steve,
and then there's just no end.
Killing my wife was an accident.
And Charlie. Charlie Barnes,
who never hurt a fly in his life.
A washed-up drunken rummy
who had nothing to live for
against a career
that was just reaching its prime.
- It wasn't an even exchange.
- You've got a great career ahead of you now.
That's all down the drain.
I gotta to make different plans now.
You should have started running
when you got my wire, sucker!
I gambled.
The stakes are big enough, you don't run
unless there's nothing else left to do.
Don't try it, kid.
Steve!
We're just too close, kid.
I figured I'd find you birds here.
Still playing me for a pushover, aren't you?
Steve, you remember how I told you
that someday you'd run into
a really great story?
Well, this one ought to do it, huh?
Yeah, this one will do.
I'll give you the lead on it.
"The elusive Lonely Heart Killer,
"object of a nationwide search
for the past two weeks,
"was last night trapped in the office
of the New York Express.
"He was apprehended
due to the persistence of a reporter
"who learned his trade
from the killer himself.
"The murderer was revealed
to be Mark Chapman,
"Managing Editor of the New York Express."
- Write it up big, kid. It'll sell a lot of papers.
- All right, drop it, Chapman.