05x23 - The Case of the Absent Artist

[bunniefuu]

[ship horn blaring]

Logic.

Myer, you are a cretin.

In art, logic is the assassin of intuition.

Do I make myself clear, Myer?

- Yeah.
- [chuckles]

You stand convicted by your own words.

Why must you always intellectualize?

But, Glovatski,
I was agreeing with you.

Repudiate me, Myer!

Lash out with heavy blows.

A true artist must first be an anarchist.

Like him? Otto Gervaert?

[scoffs]
A yogi.

But, Glovatski, have you seen
his last painting, Day's Catch?

Everybody says it's a masterpiece.

I repudiate him.

Fiona! Fiona!

Come quickly. Do hurry, dear.
Otto is back.

I heard him moving around down there.
He must have just got in.

Maybe it's a bat flying around.

The poor boy must be starved.
Come along, Fiona.

Otto, dear boy, welcome home.

Oh, dear. He's gone again.

This time he's not coming back.

Nonsense. Of course he'll be back.

Why, this is his home.

What makes you think he won't be back?

Because he's taken Day's Catch with him.

Oh, dear, yes. And he swore
he'd never sell it.

But where would he go?

I don't know.

But I'll find him.

And when I do,
maybe I'll slit open his gullet.

[Man]
Come on, men. Put your backs into it.

The wicked old sl*ve master's watching us.

Save the funny lines for the strip.

That's where it came from.

You know something, Gabe,
we're losing our identities.

We're all turning into little Zingys.

Might be an improvement.

Quick, make a note of that one, men.

What's the matter, Pete?
Are you tired of being a sl*ve?

Me? Why, no, sir.

I love Zingy like he was my own.

You know that, Gabe.
Like he was me.

Sure, I know it, kid.

Can you raise $ , ?

, bucks?

It's a cinch. Wait a minute.
I may have it on me.

Mmm, only four bucks,
if that's any good to you.

Get up the balance by tonight,
and Zingy is yours.

I'm getting out of the comic strip field.

[paper rustling]

Ah. Look what a real artist can do.

Why not me?

That bash tonight is my farewell party, kid.

But only $ , for Zingy?

I know you'd be a good father
to the little stinker.

You think you can come up with the loot?

Why, yeah. Yeah. Sure.

I'll get it even if
I have to rob a bank.

Good, Pete.
See you at the party.

[laughs]

[Man]
Sure, it's an Otto Gervaert canvas. Who else?

[Woman]
No mistaking the technique.

In my opinion, he's the next big name
in American art.

I don't know.
It looks like the work of two guys to me.

Rembrandt and Picasso maybe.

Oh, Monty,
must you always be a bookkeeper?

Surely you can see the artist is dramatizing
the basic need for survival

even in a world slowly melting
back into primeval ooze.

Mm-hmm. I wonder how much
Gabe laid out for it.

I'd hate to tell you.

I really paid through the teeth
for that little number.

You know how it is when you like something.

But a Gervaert has got to be
an investment, hasn't it?

[doorbell rings]

Well, new guests. Ask them.

[laughing]

Honestly, Pete, what's got into you?
I swear you've been drinking.

Brace yourself, baby.
I'm gonna make an honest woman out of you,

and I don't mean someday.

Listen to me, Pete.
I've got to talk to you about something

Sure. About diamonds.

Baby, tomorrow I'm gonna buy you
a diamond as big as a cannonball.

Am I intruding?

Hello, Mr. Phillips.

Greetings, wicked old sl*ve master.
I brought the swag.

Then you've got yourself a strip.

[chattering]

If I may have your attention, please.

- Quiet, please, boys and girls.
- [whistles]

Announcement.
This isn't just another ordinary bash.

This is a farewell party.

Where you going, Pete boy?

Into orbit, Monty, old man.
Straight up like a rocket.

[laughter]

Pete isn't leaving. I am.

I'm renouncing the crass world
of commercialism.

After tomorrow,
my address will be Majorca.

[Woman]
Oh, how long will you be gone?

[Man]
What's the idea, Gabe?

I'm retiring, that's all.

I made my pile.
Now I'm getting out.

[laughter]

I always wanted to find out
if I had any real talent.

Who knows?
I might be another Otto Gervaert.

[laughter]

- Gabe, who's gonna give the parties then?
- [Guests] Yeah.

Pete, let's make it legal fast.

- I've drawn up a paper--
- [doorbell rings]

Oh, wait a minute.
I think that's somebody I invited.

I'll be in the workroom.

Mr. Mason, Miss Street.

Hello, Pete.

I drew that up myself, Mason,

without the help of a lawyer.

Looks like a very clear outline
of the proposed sale.

I didn't see any need for red tape.

It's a simple arrangement
between Pete and me.

"Simple," he says,
like raising $ , in one afternoon.

I had to parlay so many deals,
only a lawyer could understand them.

So I got me one.
Now, where do I sign?

Pete, you oughta have a drink
to settle you down.

- We'll call you when it's time.
- Who needs to settle down?

I'm calm.

Just whistle,
wicked old sl*ve master.

What do you want, Mason?
Some "whereases" and "to-wits"?

No, I wouldn't say so.

I presume the sale

will in no way affect the present contract
with the newspaper syndicate?

Pete may have to renegotiate it.
But Zingy is in papers.

Any of the other syndicates
would love to have it.

May I see a copy of the contract?

I'll get it for you tomorrow.

I understood you were leaving
for Majorca tomorrow.

Mason, are you just being
a lawyer about all this,

or don't you approve of the deal?

No, it would seem to be
a very fine deal.

But I can't help wondering why you'd sell
a valuable property for,

what, a tenth of its value?

I didn't think he could afford more
than , .

I suppose you have proof of ownership?

Of the strip? I created it.

Look, Mason, this whole thing
is getting a little too involved.

Now, either make the deal or forget it.
I want Pete to have Zingy, but--

Why?

Well, he's a good cartoonist,

I like him,

and I feel sorry for him.

And so, you're practically making him
a present of the strip.

Why, Mr. Phillips?

Because it's a booby prize.

The poor slob ought to get something.

Here's to beautiful women
and brick dust,

all those who can't love
and can scour knives.

Oh, Pete.

Well, I can't hope to match that,

but I do hope
you'll both will be very happy.

- Leslie, Pete tells me that you and he--
- Excuse me.

- Yes sir, Mr. Mason, sir.
- Come here, Pete.

Do I sign now? It's okay?

I mean, it's a good deal, isn't it?

Apparently you'll own the strip, all right,
but it's going to cost something.

- Sure, ten grand.
- No. More than that.

Pete, I think we oughta
find someplace to talk.

- No. Wait.
- What for?

What's going on?
Hey, what is all this?

Perhaps Miss Lawrence
would rather tell you.

No-- I mean, Gabe--
Where's Gabe?

Tell me what, Leslie?

That I'm going to Majorca
with Gabe Phillips.

I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Pete.
I wanted to tell you.

I tried to tell you tonight,
but you wouldn't listen to me.

Baby, it's a rib, isn't it?

It isn't a rib.
I'm going away with Gabe.

And, Pete, don't make a scene.
Now please let go of me.

Gabe, you told that man.
You told him.

Pete would have known tomorrow, anyway.

What'd you have to do it that way for?

Because you never got around to it.

Look, honey, there's no easy way.

You've got to let him have it
right between the eyes.

Forget it.
Tomorrow we'll be long gone.

whether I can scrape up
all that money or not.

Darling, let's go tonight.
Right away. Please.

Even if we just drive around
till plane time.

I feel so bad about Pete.
And I don't want any more scenes

Okay.

I don't imagine those free-loaders
will miss us too much anyway.

[glass shatters]

[phone ringing]

Hello?

Yes.

No. He's busy right now.

No, I'm sorry.
Gabe can't come to the phone.

Yes, I'll be glad to take a message.

- Where? Port Harmony?
- [blow lands]

[Women gasp, scream]

All right, Manders.
One you're entitled to, but that's all.

- I'm gonna beat you to a pulp!
- Oh, come on, Pete. Hold it.

- All right.
- Come on. Now that's enough.

I'll get even with him, Mr. Mason.

You wait and see.
I'm gonna fix you good.

Sorry, Mason,
but that's the way it goes.

- Somebody wins, somebody loses.
- [door opens]

- End of the folk show, kids. Drinking time.
- [door closes]

Correct me if I'm wrong, Perry,

but I think you could have stopped Pete
from throwing that first punch.

As the man said,
he was entitled to one.

What happened?

Your boyfriend's a poor loser.
Didn't the phone ring?

- Yes. I told him you were busy.
- Well, who was it? What did they want?

I don't know.
Someone from Port Harmony.

Port Harmony? A man?

Yes. An Otto somebody.

Was it Otto Gervaert?
Is that who it was?

- I guess it was.
- Are you sure?

Yes. It was Otto Gervaert.

He said something about meeting you
in the usual place.

Anyway, I told him you were leaving town.

Okay, honey,
but I've gotta go out now.

- Now? Why?
- Unfinished business.

I'll pick you up in plenty of time
to catch the plane.

Gabe. Gabe.

[door opens, closes]

Nice car.

Philistine.

- But a foreign car.
- I repudiate them all.

[Man]
Come in.

[footsteps]

Shh. I think it's Otto.

It is Otto.
You see, you were wrong, dear.

- He did come back.
- [faint arguing]

There's some man with him.
Someone just came in.

I think I'll go have a pizza.

[arguing continues]

[g*nsh*t]

[g*nsh*t]

Myer, I despair of you.

A man who covets an automobile
has the soul of a hitchhiker.

- Didn't you hear that?
- I hear only greed.

- I see only your envy
- But it sounded like a shot.

I'm sure it was. Two sh*ts.

Does this concern us?
Does it, Myer?

Even if someone realized the utter futility

and repudiated life itself?

Della, have you got hold
of Pete Manders yet?

No. If he is home,
he's just not answering the phone.

See if you can find
Leslie Lawrence's number.

Found it and tried it.
No answer.

Maybe she and Gabe Phillips
have already left for Majorca.

I hope so.

Pete may have cooled off.
On the other hand, he might be looking for--

Try Gabe's number.

All right.

Something happen, Perry?

I've been talking
to the newspaper syndicate.

Hello? I'd like to s--

Pete? Is this you?

Tell Pete I'm on my way.

This is Della Street in Mr. Mason's office.
What are you doing there?

Don't worry, Miss Street.
Phillips isn't here.

I'm just cleaning out my desk.

Pete, Mr. Mason's on his way over.

I know, but you just be a good boy
and wait there.

Morning, Pete.

I guess it isn't a good morning, is it?

But you didn't help matters much last night.

What should I have done, Mr. Mason?
Stiff upper lip?

Good luck, old man?
Blessings on you both?

I'd have broken his rotten skull
if you hadn't stopped me.

Pete, you're too hotheaded
for your own good.

Maybe I should've signed the paper first.
Is that what you'd have recommended?

No. In fact,
that's the reason I came to see you--

just in case you decided to be practical.

He can take his lousy comic strip and--

It's not his comic strip.

I contacted the newspaper syndicate
in New York this morning, Pete.

Phillips lied.

He didn't actually create the strip,
so he doesn't entirely own it.

Then who does?

They pay royalties to a man
named Otto Gervaert.

That guy he bought the painting from.

But then why did Gabe try
to get the , out of me?

To help finance his trip to Majorca,
I guess.

He admitted he was shorter of funds
than he'd figured.

That does it.
I tell you, I'm going to--

- [door opens, closes]
- If I ever find that guy--

Pete, settle down.

He's gone, isn't he? Bag and baggage,
if you excuse the expression.

- Hello, Mr. Mason.
- How do you do?

We haven't met.
I saw you at the party last night.

I'm Charles Montrose.
I do Gabe's tax returns and other things.

- He pulled out, didn't he, Pete?
- I don't know where he is.

That crazy painting he just bought's gone,

and I'll bet everything else is,
too, if it's paid for.

Look at these.
He left everything for me to clean up.

Bills. What am I
supposed to pay them with?

Must be three
or four thousand dollars' worth.

And you can bet he didn't leave a dime
in his checking account.

Why don't you sell everything he left behind
and put it in your pocket?

This stuff,
and that stuff in there?

He made a down payment, nothing more.
I'll just have to send it back.

Doesn't he own anything outright?

Nothing. Wait a minute.
His car.

He paid cash for that, and he couldn't
take that with him on the plane.

I'll lay you ten to one he sold it
before he left town.

If he did...

You see, Mr. Mason,
I'm not the only person that loves Gabe.

Pete, I think now is the time
to be practical.

The syndicate needs someone
to handle the comic strip.

- I don't want any part of it!
- It has no connection with Phillips.

If you can get a contract
with the syndicate or the creator

or whoever has control,
I think you'd be very foolish not to do it.

[door opens]

What's the matter?

Monty, what's wrong?

No-- I suppose he's...

Rigor mortis has begun.

That means he's probably been dead
for hours, maybe even since late last night.

No. Don't look at me. I didn't--

Didn't what, Pete?

Where did you go after you left the party?

Home. I went home.

You live alone?

Yes, all...alone.

- Miss Leslie Lawrence?
- Yes. What is it?

My name's Paul Drake.
I'm working for Perry Mason.

- I understand you two met last night.
- Oh, just briefly.

I'm sorry, Mr. Drake,
but I'm very busy.

Packing for your trip?

Really, Mr. Drake.

I'm sorry, Miss Lawrence,
but it's been called.

Gabe Phillips was m*rder*d last night.

The Lawrence girl says she took the call

while Phillips was wrestling
with your client.

That'd be around : .

How long after that did Phillips
leave the apartment?

Right away.
She said he turned white

at the name of Otto Gervaert
and just rushed out.

Pete swore he saw Phillips drive off,
so that much checks out.

He could have waited for Phillips
to get back from Port Harmony.

A round trip takes four hours, Paul.
It'd be a long wait.

All right. So he went home,
brooded half the night,

came back and shot Phillips
as he got out of the car.

That's the way it looks to the police.

I take it he doesn't have much
in the way of an alibi.

None at all.

So, what do you expect to find
in Port Harmony?

Blackmailer perhaps.

Well, this is where the guy
in the bar thinks he lives.

Well, let's see if Mr. Gervaert is at home.

[door opens]

I wonder if you could tell us
where to find Otto Gervaert.

Are you from the police?

No. I'm a lawyer.
My name is Perry Mason.

Oh, dear.
Well, I'm Miss Daphne Whilom.

How do you do, Miss Whilom?
And this is Mr. Drake.

How do you do?
Why did you think we were the police?

Well, I can't imagine.

I really don't know why I said it.

Otto isn't here.

Do you know where we can find him,
Miss Whilom?

Oh, dear me, no.

He might be out on the desert
or up in the hills.

He never tells anyone where he goes,

like all great painters.

Do you know his work?

I've seen one of his canvasses.
When did he leave?

Well, I couldn't say.

I have more to do
than to try to track down

the goings and comings
of my tenants.

It was last night, wasn't it,
right about the time he had a visitor?

Well, how did you know?

I think you'd better tell us what happened,
Miss Whilom.

Well, some man came to see him.
I think he was from Hollywood.

Did you see this man?

Oh, no.
But I heard them talking.

My apartment is right above Otto's studio.

Oh, they were quarreling just violently.

I don't know what it was about,
but it was just terrible.

And then...

[Mason]
Then what?

Oh, dear,
I suppose I must tell someone.

I heard two sh*ts fired.

Two sh*ts?
You're positive there were two?

Oh, yes.
I heard them plainly.

And then the man ran away.

I've been trying to get up nerve all morning
to look into Otto's studio.

Would you care to?

I think you'd better call the police,
Miss Whilom, right away.

Call the police. Yes.

Aren't you going to take a look?

Not until the police get here.

Phillips was shot in the stomach, Paul.
Just once.

So the other shot missed.

I wonder if it did.

You think Otto Gervaert's still in there?

If he is, I want
the local police to find him.

I don't see anything that looks like a body.

Blood.

Somebody sure got themselves hurt
here last night.

I don't mean just a nose bleed.

Care to enlighten the small-town cops,
Mr. Mason?

A man named Gabe Phillips in Hollywood

received a telephone call
from Gervaert last night.

Phillips left to come up here.

I'd say he got here, wouldn't you?

Well, there's no proof that he did.

But Gervaert's landlady said that he'd been
quarreling with some man,

and then later she heard two sh*ts.

Well, from the looks of that,

one of 'em was shot, the other ran away.

There's no proof of that either.

Phillips was found dead in his garage
this morning, in Hollywood.

That's a long ways to go
with a b*llet in you.

Well, at least we know which one to look for.

I'll check with the L.A. police.
In the meantime,

I'll put out a pickup for Otto Gervaert.

Perry.

- Perry Mason, Miss Fiona Cregan.
- Hello.

[Drake]
Miss Cregan is a friend of Gervaert's.

I was his girl.

She saw a man running out of the house
right after the sh*ts.

Did you see him well enough to identify him?

I think so,

if I ever saw him again.

He wore a loud sort of jacket.

Yeah, I think I could.

She gave me a description.
It was Phillips, all right.

Save your breath, Counselor.

I know the police in Port Harmony think
Phillips was shot by some local artist,

but personally, I'm not convinced Phillips
even left Hollywood last night.

Wait a minute, Andy.

Let me introduce Miss Fiona Cregan.

She saw Phillips
in Port Harmony last night.

Saw him leave Otto Gervaert's studio
after the sh*ts were fired.

Saw Phillips?

Let's go take a look at the body.

You don't mind, do you, Miss Cregan?

Yes, that's the man I saw last night.

You're positive?

I ought to know.
I was his girl.

You were Phillips' girl, too?

No. Otto Gervaert's.

But this man is Gabe Phillips.

Maybe that's what he called himself
in Hollywood.

Up in Port Harmony,
he was known as Otto Gervaert.

Andy, I'd say it changes everything.

That girl must have guessed it
when she saw Phillips last night.

Mmm. Well, with his hair cut short,

and Gervaert never used to wear
anything but jeans.

He used to disappear
for weeks at a time.

Andy, a double identity
isn't that easy to hide.

There must've been others who guessed.

If the m*rder did take place up there,

it must have been someone
in Port Harmony who--

Perry, I'd say this changes nothing.

Oh, but you're right about it being someone
who was up in Port Harmony.

I thought we had plenty of evidence
against your client before.

But now? Here.

Take a look at this.

A gasoline receipt from a service station
in Port Harmony, dated yesterday.

The attendant says
signed late last night.

Pete Manders.

Raise your right hand.

Take a good look at that girl, Pete.

Did you see her on the night of the m*rder?

How could I?
I told you, I never got near that old house.

You also told me you went home
after the party.

Now, Miss Cregan, how long
had you known the deceased?

Ever since I came to Port Harmony.
Six years.

And you had a very close friendship
with him?

I was his girl,
when he was there.

But you did know about this masquerade,

this other existence of his in Hollywood

where he was known as Gabe Phillips?

[Fiona]
I only knew he'd met another woman.

Now, Miss Cregan,
would you please tell the court

what you saw the night of the m*rder.

Well, I was walking down the street,

and I saw Otto
come running out of this house,

and he was staggering.

I thought he was drunk.

[Lawyer]
You're sure it was Otto Gervaert?

[Fiona]
Oh, yes. He was wearing different clothes.

He had his hair cut short.

Of course, at that time, I knew nothing
about Gabe Phillips,

but I recognized it was really Otto,
all right.

- Did you speak to him?
- No.

No? Why not?

I mean, why didn't you approach him?

Well, he'd left me.
I never wanted to see him again.

Oh. Well, thank you, Miss Cregan.

Cross-examine, Mr. Mason?

Miss Cregan,
approximately what time was it

when you saw the decedent
run out of the house?

After midnight, I guess.

Maybe later.

You were alone?

Yes. I'd been out to have a pizza.

When I saw Otto,
I walked off the other way.

I take it you were jealous
of this other woman in his life?

Perhaps.

- And you were angry with Otto?
- I suppose so.

Did you ever get so angry with him
that you made a threat against his life?

I don't remember.

From the amount of blood and the statements
from the landlady about those sh*ts,

I figured somebody
had been m*rder*d in that studio.

And how did you proceed then,
Sergeant Buck?

On the assumption that this artist Gervaert

had shot Gabe Phillips and then ran away.

And it was not until later
that you discovered

that Otto Gervaert
was in fact Gabe Phillips?

Your Honor, the proper identification

would be that Gabe Phillips
was in fact Otto Gervaert.

[Judge]
Of course.

Go on, Sergeant.

Well, anyway, when it turned out the m*rder
took place in Port Harmony,

the L.A. police
turned over their evidence to us.

My name is Charles Montrose,
and I'm a tax accountant.

And the deceased was one of your clients?

Yes, I took care of his taxes

from the time he started making big money
with the comic strip, Zingy.

I now show you a revolver
which has been identified

as the w*apon which k*lled Gabe Phillips.

Objection.

Your Honor, the m*rder*d man's name
was Otto Gervaert.

The defense counsel is quite right,
Your Honor.

But since the witness on the stand now

knew the deceased only as Gabe Phillips,

I think it would be less confusing
to refer to him by that name.

I think I understand the reason
for your objection, Mr. Mason,

but in the interest of clarity,
I'm going to overrule you for the moment.

Thank you, Your Honor.
Do you recognize the g*n?

Yeah. Yes, sir.

It belonged to Gabe Phillips.

He kept it in a drawer in his desk.

Was that generally known?

All the cartoonists who worked there
knew about it.

Was the defendant, Pete Manders,
one of those cartoonists?

He was.

Now, how long had you been aware

of Gabe Phillips'
intended departure for Majorca?

[Montrose] A couple of days.
I made out a check for the plane tickets.

[Lawyer]
To whom were those tickets issued?

One was made out
in Gabe Phillips' name.

And the other one?

Miss Leslie Lawrence.

[Lawyer]
Thank you, Mr. Montrose.

Do you wish to cross-examine,
Mr. Mason?

Mr. Montrose, were you aware
that your client

was actually Otto Gervaert,
a painter living in Port Harmony?

No, sir.

You could've knocked me over
when I read about it in the paper.

You had no intimation of it
from his financial affairs?

That's right.
Nobody knew about it.

But you prepared Gervaert's tax forms
in Hollywood.

What about his tax returns in Port Harmony?

I'm going to have to object here,
Your Honor.

It's already been agreed
that the witness on the stand

knew the deceased only as Gabe Phillips.

If it please the court,
I think we're dealing here with the question

of who was actually m*rder*d,
Gervaert or Phillips.

A corpse by any name is just as dead.

I don't think we need any levity,
Mr. Clark.

Both of you gentlemen
will approach the bench.

You first, Mr. Mason.

Your Honor, the m*rder occurred
in the residence of Otto Gervaert.

It happened in the domicile of Otto Gervaert.

It's a reasonable assumption,
therefore, that the m*rder*r

committed the crime against a man
known to him only by that name.

In other words,
that the m*rder*r was someone

among his Port Harmony associates.

The purpose of this hearing,
Your Honor, is to present evidence

that Pete Manders k*lled Gabe Phillips
and nobody else.

Now, what defense counselor
could possibly want by--

What I want is the opportunity
to cross-examine

Gervaert's associates in the art colony.

It is not what defense counsel wants

that should control the prosecution,
Your Honor,

but what is required for an orderly
presentation of the case.

I think we'll proceed on the basis
of the State's presentation,

with no further quibbling over the name.

That understood?

[Leslie]
Yes, I fell in love with Gabe Phillips.

It proved to be rather
an awkward situation, because,

well, I'd been going around
with Mr. Manders.

In fact, he was telling people
we were engaged.

When did the defendant discover
how you really felt about him?

Oh, that night at the party.

Gabe and I were leaving the next day
for Majorca.

We were planning to be married there.

And that was when the defendant
became so upset?

Yes, that's right.
It was then that Pete--

I mean, Mr. Manders hit Mr. Phillips
and made all those threats.

This is a receipt of ½ gallons of gasoline.

I filled it out the night of the m*rder.

Close to midnight, I guess.

Do you see the man who bought gas
from you here in the courtroom?

Yes, sir.
That's him, the defendant.

Uh, they were having this terrible quarrel.

Their voices came up the flue
from Otto's fireplace.

Then you did recognize the voices?

Yes. Otto's.
I'd know that anywhere.

But the other man?
No, I didn't know his voice.

Can you tell us anything specifically

about which you heard them quarrelling,
Miss Whilom?

Well, I only heard snatches, of course,

but this other man seemed to be
very angry with Otto.

About what?

Well, I couldn't make it out.

- Otto said something about Leslie.
- Leslie?

I heard him say "Leslie,"
and then came the sh*ts.

Thank you, Miss Whilom.

Cross-examine, Mr. Mason.

Miss Whilom, how long had you known
Otto Gervaert?

Ever since he came to Port Harmony,
about six years ago.

Was he a successful painter at that time?

Oh, no.
He hadn't been discovered.

But I recognized his talents instantly.

In my house, Otto Gervaert became
the greatest painter in America.

I sat at his feet.

And yet, Miss Whilom,
you heard Otto

having a violent quarrel
with an unknown man,

a quarrel followed by two sh*ts,

and you didn't go downstairs to investigate?

Well, I was frightened.
I was all alone.

Of course you were frightened,
Miss Whilom.

But he was your friend.

Now, do you want us to believe that you were
so frightened you did absolutely nothing?

Well, not right away.

A moment or two later, then.
You still did nothing?

Well, the studio was empty.
He was gone.

Then you did go downstairs
to investigate.

He wasn't there.
No one was.

And knowing he might've been wounded,

possibly even dying,

you weren't concerned enough
to look further?

To call someone to help you look further?

The hall was empty.

Not a soul downstairs.

What about the street?

There was no one in the street, either.

- No one else's car.
- No one else's car?

What about Otto's car, Miss Whilom?

Was his car still in the street
when you ran outside for help?

Yes, he was in his car.

But nothing could've been done for him.

He was already dead.

Now, Miss Whilom,

will you please explain to this court

how a dead man drove his car
all the way to Hollywood,

miles away?

[murmuring]

I just can't picture Miss Whilom driving
a dead body all the way to Hollywood.

Well, somebody did.
The question is why?

I think it has to do
with the dual identities.

Somebody in Port Harmony wanted the corpse
to be Phillips, not Gervaert.

Then the m*rder*r must be
somebody here in Port Harmony.

No, not necessarily.

One of Phillips' Hollywood friends could have
faked that phone call to lure him up here.

Then, if he'd been m*rder*d as Gervaert,

there'd be nothing to connect him
with the Hollywood crowd.

[Mason]
What about those tax records, Paul?

[Drake] Phillips had copies in his apartment,
and I got photostats.

Also a bank statement.
They're all here.

Now see what you can find
on Gervaert's private papers.

That's not so easy. In Hollywood,
Phillips had a real efficient operation.

By the looks of Gervaert's studio,
up here he kept house like a slob.

Well, you can try.

I also want you to check with
the Department of Motor Vehicles.

Yes, Your Honor,
I'm ready to answer questions now.

All right, Mr. Mason, proceed.

Let's pick up where we left off yesterday,
Miss Whilom.

Now, would you please tell this court,

who transported the decedent's body
to Hollywood?

I did, Mr. Mason.

You have a driver's license?

No.

Miss Whilom, isn't it true
that you've never driven a car?

No, that's not true.
I drove my father's car.

When? How many years ago?

- [spectators chuckling]
- [gavel tapping]

All right, Miss Whilom.

We'll go on to your reason
for wanting the body moved.

You did it to protect someone, didn't you?

[Daphne]
No.

I just didn't want any scandal
here in Port Harmony.

When you saw the decedent's body,

you were afraid Miss Cregan had k*lled him,
isn't that right?

[Daphne]
No!

[Mason]
She'd been jilted by Gervaert.

She was angry and jealous.

So you had his body taken
to the apartment in Hollywood

where he was known as Gabe Phillips,

hoping no connection would be made
with his other identity here.

Isn't that true, Miss Whilom?

Well, isn't it?

Your Honor, I will call
Alexander Glovatski to the stand.

- [Man] Raise your right hand.
- Here's some papers you'll find interesting

and a list of everything in his studio,
which just proves one thing.

- What's that, Paul?
- Gervaert was a slob.

[Glovatski]
Alexander Glovatski.

[Man]
Be seated.

Mr. Glovatski,
did you transport the body

of the deceased to the garage
of his Hollywood apartment?

Indubitably.

Upon whose request?

Daphne's.

You refer to the previous witness,
Daphne Whilom?

The same.

Thank you. No further questions.

Mr. Glovatski,
you're aware that the prosecutor

has just used you
to impeach his own witness?

I am aware of the truth of what I say.

Do you know that tampering
with evidence is a felony?

These are words for lawyers.

And what is a jail for?

The world is a jail.

But you were aware
of what you were doing, were you not?

I did it.

You must have had a very compelling reason
to agree to the committing of such an act.

What was it? Money?
Did Miss Whilom pay you?

I have no use for money.

[Mason]
Don't you?

You're a sculptor,
I believe, Mr. Glovatski.

Have you ever sold any of your works?

I am an artist, not a peddler.

Then how do you live?

Mr. Glovatski, why were you willing
to transport a dead body?

Because Gervaert
had betrayed his talent.

He sold his birthright
to the money changers.

I eradicated his presence
from the temple of the arts.

Do you expect this court to belie--

No, of course you don't.

That's all for now.

Well, our newspaper syndicate
paid Gabe Phillips

about $ , a year to manage
and draw the comic strip.

Of course,
we paid a royalty of ,

to the man Phillips said
had created the character of Zingy.

To Otto Gervaert, that is.

Can you tell us how much the defendant,
Pete Manders, received?

As Phillips' senior artist, his salary was
approximately $ , a year, I believe.

[Clark] In the event of death
or disabling injury to Gabe Phillips,

had your syndicate made any plans

to have some other man continue
drawing and managing the strip?

We'd taken that precaution, yes.
In fact, we'd discussed it

with both Phillips and Manders.

Manders was to take over in the event
of any such contingency.

And what sort of salary would the defendant
then have received?

We planned to raise Pete
to at least , .

From ten to sixty.

Thank you.
No further questions.

Mr. Newburgh, you say Phillips

received , and Gervaert more.

That would be a total of $ , a year
that you paid to the same man?

Well, if you put it that way, yes.

But we certainly had no idea
that Phillips was Gervaert, too.

Your Honor, I would like to recall
a previous witness--

- Now, just a moment--
- ...to clarify an earlier point

and a possible new motive for m*rder,
Your Honor.

But I already said I handled
Phillips' taxes.

As well as the returns for Otto Gervaert?

Certainly not. I never even knew
there was such a creature.

But you did make out tax returns
for Gabe Phillips

on a gross income
of over a $ , .

There were a great many
deductions, of course.

Business expenses and so on.

No matter how much he earned, the way Gabe
spent money, he never ended up with much.

Would you say it was more advantageous
for a man to take his deductions

from a $ , income
or a $ , income?

I don't understand.

Don't you?

I thought everyone was aware that
the higher the income, the greater the tax.

Oh, well, yes, but...

So wouldn't it be obvious that if
Otto Gervaert had any deductible expenses,

he'd save money by writing them off
on Gabe Phillips' income tax?

No. No, that's not possible.

Mr. Montrose, Phillips had quite a number
of employees, did he not?

A certain of the artists on Zingy
worked for the syndicate.

Yes, there were a few whom Gabe paid direct--

some full, some part time.

I show you this photostat
of Phillips' tax return for last year--

the separate schedule here--
and ask you to read this list of names.

- I don't see--
- Just read the names, please, Mr. Montrose.

Gabe gave money to Pete Manders,

Joseph Sullivan, Jeremy Stark

and Alexander Glovatski.

$ .

Just paltry dollars.

For what, Mr. Glovatski?

Like the man said,
this Phillips hired artists.

But you're a sculptor, not a cartoonist.

There is a difference,
I grant that, but only that.

And you just said
you never heard of Gabe Phillips.

Very well.
I repudiate myself.

Mr. Glovatski, you are under oath,

and I'm quite sure
you understand what that means.

Now, who paid you that money?
Otto Gervaert or Gabe Phillips?

It was Gervaert.
A donation to keep sculpture alive.

You mean a donation to keep blackmail alive,
don't you?

Now, you knew about his double identity.

Isn't that why you were so anxious
that his body not be found in Port Harmony?

Yes. Say any name you want.

You also took other payments from him.

You were the one person in town who knew
Otto Gervaert's secret.

You were the one person

whose only source of income

would've ended
with his leaving for Majorca.

No! No, that's not true!

You must believe.
Only three payments I took.

One for , one for $ .

It wasn't my idea-- the .

Otto himself said the government would pay.

His own money was being saved.

But as Phillips,
he could pay anything.

I saw him myself
making notes with his taxes.

He said his tax man would arrange it all.

The man who handled all of his accounts.

His tax man would take care of everything.

All right! Yes!
I arranged it!

And Gervaert's tax returns, Mr. Montrose.
You arranged those also?

Of course I did.
I set up the whole thing.

But please, Your Honor,
I couldn't incriminate myself.

I couldn't admit to tax fraud.

But you can admit to m*rder,
isn't that right?

Unless, of course, you can explain
where the bulk of Gervaert's money went.

Or is that the question he asked you
when he suddenly decided to go to Majorca?

Now, what happened to all that money
he expected to live on, Mr. Montrose?

I can't tell you
any more than I could tell him.

I begged him for time.
I needed time, but he--

Yes, you're-- you're right.

I k*lled the two-headed monster.

All right, Perry. Who was really m*rder*d,
Phillips or Gervaert?

- Both of them.
- Both of them?

That was the key to the whole business.
Outside of a harmless sculptor,

Monty was the only man who knew all about
the dual existence.

And the two separate incomes.

When Phillips suddenly wanted the savings
from those two separate incomes

for his retirement to Majorca,

well, Monty either had to produce
or else k*ll him.

But he k*lled him as Otto Gervaert.

He thought that a dead artist
from Port Harmony

could never be connected to a man
supposedly on his way to Majorca.

So he faked that phone call to lure Phillips
up here, and you know the rest.

Hey, that explains why Monty was so shook up
when he found Gabe in the garage.

I was wondering when
you were going to remember that.

Sure. Monty acted exactly as though
he'd just seen a ghost.

Hey, you know something?

I might be coming back
to Port Harmony someday.

Pete, old sport, haven't you
had trouble enough?

Uh, just leave art to the experts.

[chuckling]