Rear Window

BABY SITTER: This is the baby sitter.

JEFF: Oh. When are they expected home?

BABY SITTER: I'm hired 'til one. They went to dinner and maybe night-clubbing.

JEFF: Well, if he calls in, tell him to get in touch with L. B. Jefferies right away. I might have quite a surprise for him.

BABY SITTER: Does he have your number, Mr. Jefferies?

JEFF: He has it. Thank you.

BABY SITTER: Goodnight.

BABY SITTER: This is Doyle's house.

JEFF: This is L. B. Jefferies, a friend of Tom's. Who am I talking with?

GUNNISON: Indo-China -- Jeff predicted it would go sky-high.

BRYCE: From the looks of Davidson's cable, it might even go higher than that. And we haven't even got a camera over there.

GUNNISON: This could go off in a month -- or an hour.

BRYCE: I'll pull somebody out of Japan.

GUNNISON: Bryce, the only man for this job is sitting right here in town. Get me L. B. Jefferies.

BRYCE: Jefferies?

GUNNISON: Name me a better photographer.

BRYCE: But his leg!

GUNNISON: Don't worry -- it comes off today.

LISA: I would say that is looked as if she wasn't coming back.

DOYLE: That's what they call a family problem.

DOYLE: Mrs. -- Thorwald's -- clothes. -- Clean -- carefully packed -- not too stylish -- but presentable.

LISA: Didn't you take it to the crime lab?

LISA: Of course, it's normal for a man to tie his trunk up with a heavy rope.

DOYLE: When the lock is broken -- yes.

LISA: Like disposing of their wives?

DOYLE: Get that idea out of your mind. It will only lead you in the wrong direction.

LISA: It was in her favorite handbag -- And, Mr. Doyle, that can lead to only one conclusion.

DOYLE: Namely?

JEFF: Just don't dally. Thorwald knows he's being watched. He won't hang around long.

DOYLE: If that ring checks out, we'll give him an escort. So long.

JEFF: Jefferies.

DOYLE: This is Doyle, Jeff.

JEFF: Tom, I've got something real big for you.

DOYLE: Look Jeff, don't louse up my night with another man killer stuffing a grisly trunk that turns out to be --

JEFF: Listen to me! Lisa's been arrested.

DOYLE: Your Lisa?

JEFF: My Lisa. She went into Thorwald's apartment, and he came back. The only way I could get her out was to call the police.

DOYLE: I told you that --

JEFF: I know what you told me! She went in to get evidence, and she came out with it.

DOYLE: Like what?

JEFF: Like Mrs. Thorwald's wedding ring. If that woman were still alive, she'd be wearing it.

DOYLE: A possibility.

JEFF: A fact! Last night he killed a dog for pawing in his garden. Why? Because he had something buried in there. Something a dog could scent.

DOYLE: Like an old hambone?

JEFF: I don't know what pet name Thorwald had for his wife. And that night he went out half a dozen times with the metal suitcase. He wasn't taking his possessions, because they're up in his apartment now!

DOYLE: You think perhaps it was "old hambone?"

JEFF: In sections! And one other thing, doubting Tom -- it just occurred to me that all the calls Thorwald made were long distance! If he called his wife the day she left -- after she arrived in Merritsville -- why did she need to send him a postcard saying she'd arrived?

DOYLE: Where'd they take Lisa?

JEFF: Precinct Six. I sent a friend over with bail money.

DOYLE: Maybe you won't need it. I'll run it down, Jeff.

DOYLE: Oh -- that phone call! I gave them your number -- hope you don't mind.

JEFF: That depends on who "they" were.

DOYLE: The police Department at Merritsville. They called to report. The trunk was just picked up -- by Mrs. Anna Thorwald.

DOYLE: If I'd been careful piloting that reconnaissance plane, you wouldn't have taken the kind of pictures that got you a medal, a big job, fame, money --

JEFF: All the things I hate.

JEFF: But I'm not a killer!

DOYLE: Your logic is backward.

DOYLE: Did you ever own a saw?

JEFF: Well, in the garage, back home, we --

DOYLE: And how many people did you cut up with the couple of with it? Or hundred knives you've probably owned in your lifetime?

JEFF: That wasn't Mrs. Thorwald who left with him yesterday morning?

DOYLE: You figured that out, huh?

DOYLE: Jewelry?

JEFF: He has his wife's jewelry hidden in among his clothes over there.

DOYLE: You sure it belongs to his wife?

JEFF: Enough to scare me that you wouldn't get here in time, and we'd lose him.

DOYLE: You think he's getting out of here?

JEFF: Everything he owns is laid out on the bedroom, ready for packing.

JEFF: Is -- is Anna -- who I think it is?

DOYLE: Mrs. Thorwald.

JEFF: Forget the story -- find the trunk. Mrs. Thorwald's in it!

DOYLE: Oh -- I almost forgot!

DOYLE: The building superintendent, and two tenants. Flat statements -- no hesitation. And they all jibed to the letter. The Thorwalds were leaving for the railroad station.

JEFF: Now how could anybody guess that? They had, perhaps, signs on their luggage, "Grand Central Or Bust!"?

DOYLE: The superintendent met Thorwald coming back. He said Thorwald told him he had just put his wife on the train for the country.

JEFF: A very convenient guy -- this superintendent. Have you checked his bank deposits lately?

DOYLE: Jeff -- huh?

JEFF: Well -- what good is his information?!! It's a second-hand version of an unsupported statement by the murderer himself -- Thorwald! Anybody actually see the wife get on the train?

DOYLE: I hate to remind you -- but this all started because you said she was murdered. Now did anyone, including you, actually see her murdered?

JEFF: Doyle -- are you interested in solving a case, or making me look foolish?

DOYLE: If possible -- both.

JEFF: Well then do a good job of it! Get over there, and search Thorwald's apartment! It must be knee-deep in evidence.

DOYLE: I can't do that.

JEFF: I mean when he goes out for a paper, or a drink, or something. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

DOYLE: I can't do it even if he's gone.

JEFF: What's the matter? Does he have a courtesy card from the police department?

DOYLE: Now don't get me mad! Even a detective can't walk in anybody's apartment and search it. If I were ever caught in there, I'd lose my badge inside of ten minutes!

JEFF: Just make sure you're not caught. If you find something, you've got a murderer and nobody will care about a couple of house rules. If you find nothing -- he's clear.

DOYLE: At the risk of sounding stuffy, Jeff -- I'll remind you of the Constitution, and the phrase "search warrant" issued by a judge who knows the Bill of Rights verbatim. He must ask for evidence.

JEFF: Give him evidence.

DOYLE: I can hear myself starting out. "Your Honor -- I have a friend who's an amateur sleuth, an one night, after a heavy supper --" He'd throw the New York State Penal Code right in my face. -- And it's six volumes.

JEFF: By morning there might not be anything left to find in his apartment.

DOYLE: A detective's nightmare.

JEFF: What do you need before you can search -- bloody footsteps leading up to the door?

DOYLE: One thing I don't need is heckling! You called and asked me for help -- and now you're acting like a taxpayer!

DOYLE: How did we ever stand each other in that same plane for three years?

JEFF: You know, every day for three years I asked myself that same question?

DOYLE: Ever get an answer?

JEFF: Yeah -- frequently -- it ran something like this: "Your request for transfer turned down --"

JEFF: Who said they left then?

DOYLE: Who left -- where?

JEFF: The Thorwalds -- at six in the morning?

DOYLE: Feel a little foolish?

JEFF: Not yet.

JEFF: I think that's about the time I fell asleep.

DOYLE: Too bad. The Thorwalds were just leaving the apartment house at that time.

DOYLE: He has a six months lease, and has used up a little over five and a half months of it. Quiet. Drinks, but not to drunkenness. Pays his bill promptly, with money earned as a consume jewelry salesman -- wholesale. Keeps to himself, and none of the neighbors got close to him, or his wife.

JEFF: I think they missed their chance with her.

DOYLE: She never left the apartment --

JEFF: Then where is she -- in the ice box?

DOYLE: -- until yesterday morning.

JEFF: What time?

DOYLE: Six ayem.

DOYLE: By the way what happened to your leg?

JEFF: I was jaywalking.

DOYLE: I -- uh -- won't report it to the Department. Let me poke into a little on my own. No point in you getting any ridiculous publicity.

JEFF: Thanks.

DOYLE: We know the wife is gone. I'll see if I can find out where.

JEFF: Do that.

DOYLE: It's too stupid and obvious a way to murder -- in full view of fifty windows -- and then sit over there -- -- smoking a cigar -- waiting for the police to pick him up.

JEFF: Well, officer -- do your duty.

DOYLE: You've got a lot to lean about homicide, Jeff. Morons have committed murder so shrewdly that it took a hundred trained police minds to catch them. That salesman wouldn't just knock off his wife after dinner, toss her in a trunk and put her in storage.

JEFF: I'll bet it's been done.

DOYLE: Almost everything's been done -- under panic. But this is a thousand to one shot. That man's still sitting around his apartment; he isn't panicked.

JEFF: You think I made all this up?

DOYLE: I think you saw something -- that probably has a very simple explanation.

JEFF: For instance?

DOYLE: His wife took a trip.

JEFF: She -- was -- an -- invalid!

DOYLE: You told me. I've got to run, Jeff.

JEFF: All right -- you don't believe me.

DOYLE: You didn't see the killing, or the body? How do you know there was a murder?

JEFF: Because everything that man's done has been suspicious. Trips at night in the rain, saws, knives, trunks with rope, and a wife that isn't there any more.

DOYLE: I'll admit it all has a mysterious sound -- but is could mean a number of different things. Murder is the least likely.

JEFF: Go ahead, Doyle -- tell me he's an unemployed magician -- amusing the neighborhood with sleight-of-hand.

GUNNISON: Hello.

JEFF: Gunnison?

GUNNISON: Yeah. Is that you, Jeff?

JEFF: It's me.

GUNNISON: Something wrong?

JEFF: The word is "everything." Now what time does my plane leave Tuesday?

GUNNISON: Jeff --

JEFF: I don't care where it goes -- just as long as I'm on it.

GUNNISON: Okay. Indo-China. Tuesday. We'll pick you up.

JEFF: That's more like it. Goodnight, old buddy.

GUNNISON: Yeah.

JEFF: Yeah? Maybe in the high rent districts they discuss -- but in my neighborhood, they still nag.

GUNNISON: Well -- you know best. Call you later, Jeff.

JEFF: Next time, have some good news.

GUNNISON: Read some good books.

JEFF: I've been taking pictures so long I don't know how to read anymore.

GUNNISON: I'll send you some comic books.

JEFF: Listen -- if you don't pull me out of this swamp of boredom -- I'll do something drastic.

GUNNISON: Like what?

JEFF: I'll -- I'll get married. Then I'll never be able to go anywhere.

GUNNISON: It's about time you got married -- before you turn into a lonesome and bitter old man.

JEFF: Can you see me -- rushing home to a hot apartment every night to listen to the automatic laundry, the electric dishwasher, the garbage disposal and a nagging wife.

GUNNISON: Jeff -- wives don't nag anymore -- they discuss.

JEFF: Where?

GUNNISON: Indo-China. Got a code tip from the bureau chief this morning. The place is about to go up in smoke.

JEFF: Didn't I tell you! Didn't I tell you it was the next place to watch?

GUNNISON: You did.

JEFF: Okay. When do I leave? Half-hour? An hour?

GUNNISON: With that cast on -- you don't.

JEFF: Stop sounding stuffy. I'll take pictures from a jeep. From a water buffalo if necessary.

GUNNISON: You're too valuable to the magazine for us to play around with. I'll send Morgan or Lambert.

JEFF: Swell. I get myself half-killed for you -- and you reward me by stealing my assignments.

GUNNISON: I didn't ask you to stand in the middle of that automobile race track.

JEFF: You asked for something dramatically different! You got it!

GUNNISON: So did you. Goodbye, Jeff.

JEFF: You've got to get me out of here! Six weeks -- sitting in a two-room apartment with nothing to do but look out the window at the neighbors!

GUNNISON: This is Wednesday.

JEFF: Gunnison -- how did you get to be such a big editor -- with such a small memory?

GUNNISON: Wrong day?

JEFF: Wrong week. Next Wednesday I emerge from this plaster cocoon.

GUNNISON: That's too bad, Jeff. Well, I guess I can't be lucky every day. Forget I called.

JEFF: Yeah. I sure feel sorry for you, Gunnison. Must be rough on you thinking of me wearing this cast another whole week.

JEFF: Jefferies.

GUNNISON: Congratulations, Jeff.

JEFF: For what?

GUNNISON: For getting rid of that cast.

JEFF: Who said I was getting rid of it?

JEFF: I can't. The police have it by now.

THORWALD: Then if the police get me -- you won't be around to laugh!

THORWALD: Can you get me that ring back?

JEFF: No.

THORWALD: Tell her to bring it back!

JEFF: Well -- did you get it, Thorwald?

THORWALD: Who are you?

JEFF: I'll give you a chance to find out. Meet me in the bar at the Brevoort -- and do it right away.

THORWALD: Why should I?

JEFF: For a little business meeting -- to settle the estate of your late wife.

THORWALD: I don't know what you mean.

JEFF: Now stop wasting time, Thorwald, or I'll hang up and call the police.

THORWALD: I only have a hundred dollars or so.

JEFF: That's a start. I'm at the Brevoort now. I'll be looking for you.

THORWALD: Hello.

JEFF: Did you get my note?

JEFF: What about the rest?

STELLA: When those cops get a look at Miss Fremont -- they'll even contribute.

STELLA: Ten here.

JEFF: Thirty-three here. Totals one-ninety. Not enough.

STELLA: I got twenty or so in my purse. Give me what you've got.

JEFF: One hundred and twenty-seven.

STELLA: How much do you think you'll need?

JEFF: First offense burglary -- -- probably two-fifty. The piggy bank.

STELLA: What do you need money for?

JEFF: To bail Lisa out of jail.

STELLA: When you took your first snapshot -- did you ever think it would bring you to this?

JEFF: Stella -- how long do you think he'll stay there?

STELLA: Unless he's dumber than I think, he won't wait 'til his lease is up.

STELLA: What's she trying to do? Why doesn't she turn him in?

JEFF: Smart girl.

STELLA: Smart? She'll be arrested!

JEFF: That'll get her out of there, won't it?

STELLA: You know, Miss Fremont -- he might just have something there.

JEFF: There's no point in taking unnecessary chances. Give me the phone book, Lisa.

JEFF: What are you two talking about?

STELLA: Got a shovel?

JEFF: No.

STELLA: There's probably one in the basement.

JEFF: Now wait a minute --

STELLA: You know? You might not be too bad a bargain for Lisa after all.

JEFF: You don't say! I might just take that compliment as an insult.

STELLA: I wonder.

JEFF: What?

STELLA: Miss Lonely Hearts just laid out something that looks like sodium trieckonal capsules.

JEFF: You can tell that from here?

STELLA: I handled enough of those red pills to put everybody in New Jersey asleep for the winter.

JEFF: Would four of them -- ?

STELLA: No -- but it makes the rest easy to take. And she's reading the Bible.

JEFF: Then I wouldn't worry too much. But let's keep an eye on her.

STELLA: Thank heaven that's over!

JEFF: I have a feeling we've just begun.

STELLA: You shouldn't have let her do that! If he ever --

JEFF: Look!

JEFF: There's a dip at this end. And since when do flowers grow shorter in two weeks?

STELLA: There's something buried there.

STELLA: You mean the one the dog was sniffing around?

JEFF: And digging in. Look at that flower bed.

STELLA: Mrs. Thorwald?

JEFF: Uh-uh. The dog. I think I know now why Thorwald killed it.

STELLA: I'm just going to get the name of their truck!

JEFF: I'll watch the alleyway -- in case it goes that way.

JEFF: Stella, I -- I can't tell you what a welcome sight this is. No wonder your husband's still in love with you.

STELLA: Police?

JEFF: Huh?

STELLA: You called the police?

JEFF: Oh. Well, yes and no. It wasn't an official call. He's just a friend. An old, ornery friend.

STELLA: Goodbye, Mr. Jefferies. I'll see you tomorrow.

JEFF: Uh-huh.

STELLA: I'm not shy. I've been looked at before.

JEFF: It's not an ordinary look. It's the kind of look a man gives when he's afraid somebody might be watching him.

STELLA: A Federal offense.

JEFF: Get back there! He'll see you!

STELLA: What about this morning? Any developments?

JEFF: No. The shades are still drawn in their apartment.

STELLA: In this heat? They're up now.

STELLA: His personal effects. He's probably running away -- the coward.

JEFF: Sometimes it's worse to stay than it is to run.

STELLA: But it takes a particularly low type of man to do it.

STELLA: Keep your mind off her.

JEFF: She's real eat, drink and be merry girl.

STELLA: And she'll end up fat, alcoholic and miserable.

JEFF: Speaking of misery, Miss Lonely Hearts drank herself to sleep again. Alone.

STELLA: Poor girl. Someday she'll find her happiness.

JEFF: And some man will lose his.

STELLA: Isn't there anyone in the neighborhood who might cast an eye in her direction?

JEFF: Well, the salesman could be available soon.

STELLA: He and his wife splitting up?

JEFF: It's hard to figure. He went out several time last night, in the rain carrying his sample case.

STELLA: Isn't he a salesman?

JEFF: Now what could he sell at three in the morning?

STELLA: Flashlights. Luminous dials for watches. House numbers that light up.

JEFF: He was taking something out of the apartment. I'm certain.

STELLA: The insurance Company would be a lot happier if you slept in your bed, not the wheelchair.

JEFF: How did you know!

STELLA: Eyes bloodshot. Must have been staring out the window for hours.

JEFF: I was.

STELLA: What'll you do if one of them catches you?

JEFF: Depends one which one.

STELLA: Okay -- but I'm going to spread some common sense on the bread. Lisa Fremont's loaded to her fingertips with love for you. I'll give you two words of advice. Marry her.

JEFF: She pay you much?

STELLA: When I married Myles, we were both maladjusted misfits. We still are. And we've loved every minute of it.

JEFF: That's fine, Stella. Now would you make me a sandwich?

JEFF: We've progressed emotionally in --

STELLA: Baloney! Once it was see somebody, get excited, get married -- Now, it's read books, fence with four syllable words, psychoanalyze each other until you can't tell a petting party from a civil service exam

JEFF: People have different emotional levels that --

STELLA: Ask for trouble and you get it. Why there's a good boy in my neighborhood who went with a nice girl across the street for three years. Then he refused to marry her. Why? -- Because she only scored sixty-one on a Look Magazine marriage quiz!

STELLA: Look, Mr. Jefferies. I'm not educated. I'm not even sophisticated. But I can tell you this -- when a man and a woman see each other, and like each other -- they should come together -- wham like two taxies on Broadway. Not sit around studying each other like specimens in at bottle.

JEFF: There's an intelligent way to approach marriage.

STELLA: Intelligence! Nothing has caused the human race more trouble. Modern marriage!

JEFF: The only honest thing to do is call it off. Let her look for somebody else.

STELLA: I can just hear you now. "Get out of here you perfect, wonderful woman! You're too good for me!"

JEFF: That's the hard part.

STELLA: You're never going to marry?

JEFF: Probably. But when I do, it'll be to someone who thinks of life as more than a new dress, a lobster dinner, and the latest scandal. I need a woman who'll go anywhere, do anything, and love it.

JEFF: It's very simple. She belongs in that rarefied atmosphere of Park Avenue, expensive restaurants, and literary cocktail parties.

STELLA: People with sense can belong wherever they're put.

JEFF: Can you see her tramping around the world with a camera bum who never has more than a week's salary in the bank? If only she was ordinary.

STELLA: Behind every ridiculous statement is always hidden the true cause. What is it? You have a fight?

JEFF: No.

STELLA: Her father loading up the shotgun?

JEFF: Stella!

STELLA: It's happened before, you know! Some of the world's happiest marriage have started 'under the gun' you might say.

JEFF: She's just not the girl for me.

STELLA: She's only perfect.

JEFF: Too perfect. Too beautiful, too talented, too sophisticated, too everything -- but what I want.

STELLA: Is what you want something you can discuss?

STELLA: I knew it!

JEFF: Don't you ever heat that stuff up.

STELLA: Gives your circulation something to fight. What kind of trouble?

JEFF: Lisa Fremont.

STELLA: You must be kidding. A beautiful young woman, and you a reasonably healthy specimen of manhood.

JEFF: She expects me to marry her.

STELLA: That's normal.

JEFF: I don't want to.

STELLA: That's abnormal.

JEFF: I'm not ready for marriage.

STELLA: Nonsense. A man is always ready for marriage -- with the right girl. And Lisa Fremont is the right girl for any man with half a brain, who can get one eye open.

JEFF: She's all right.

JEFF: Right now I'd even welcome trouble.

STELLA: You've got a hormone deficiency.

JEFF: How can you tell that from a thermometer!

STELLA: Those sultry sun-worshipers you watch haven't raised your temperature one degree in four weeks.

JEFF: Stella -- in economics, a kidney ailment has no relationship to the stock market. Absolutely none.

STELLA: It crashed, didn't it?

STELLA: I predicted it.

JEFF: How?

JEFF: Readers' Digest, April, 1939.

STELLA: Well, I only quote from the best.

MRS. DOYLE: It is something really important, Jeff?

JEFF: I'm afraid it is, Tess.

MRS. DOYLE: I'll have him call the moment I hear from him.

JEFF: Tell him not to waste time calling. To get over here soon as he can. I think Thorwald's pulling out tonight.

MRS. DOYLE: Who's Thorwald?

JEFF: He knows. Don't worry, Tess. It's a man.

MRS. DOYLE: Goodnight, you idiot.

JEFF: Goodnight, Mrs Doyle.

MRS. DOYLE: Hello.

JEFF: Mrs. Doyle?

MRS. DOYLE: Yes.

JEFF: Jeff again. Has Tom come in yet?

MRS. DOYLE: Not yet, Jeff.

JEFF: You haven't even heard from him?

MRS. DOYLE: Not a word.

LISA: Get an ambulance. Don't move. Try to lie still.

JEFF: Lisa -- I -- I -- can't tell you how scared I was that you -- you might --

LISA: Shut up. I'm all right.

JEFF: Think you've got enough for a search warrant now?

JEFF: I'll try to give you at least fifteen minutes.

LISA: How?

JEFF: Chelsea 2-7099. We scared him once. Maybe we can scare him again. I'm using that word "we" a little too freely, I guess. I don't take any of the chances.

LISA: Shall we vote him in, Stella?

LISA: What for?

JEFF: Maybe I can get Thorwald out of the apartment.

LISA: Jeff, if you're squeamish, just don't look.

JEFF: Now hold on. I'm not a bit squeamish about what might be under those flowers -- but I don't care to watch two women end up like that dog --

JEFF: Suppose Mrs. Thorwald's wedding ring was among the jewelry he has in the handbag. During that phone conversation he held up three rings -- one with a diamond -- one with a big stone of some kind -- and one plain gold band.

LISA: And the last thing she'd leave behind would be her wedding ring! Do you ever leave yours at home?

LISA: Wasn't that close?

JEFF: Too close.

JEFF: Something's in there. Those flowers have been taken up, and put back again.

LISA: It could be -- the knife, and the saw.

JEFF: Well?

LISA: It's just a picture of the backyard, that's all.

JEFF: I know. But there's one important change. The flowers in Thorwald's pet flower bed.

JEFF: Do you think this was worth waiting all day to see?

LISA: Is he cleaning house?

JEFF: He's washing down the bathroom walls.

JEFF: For a minute, Doyle almost had me convinced I was wrong.

LISA: But you're not?

JEFF: In the whole courtyard, only one person didn't come to the window.

LISA: Do you like it?

JEFF: Well, -- if there was one less thread this way -- -- and two less that way -- -- I might give up bachelorhood.

LISA: I'll rephrase the question.

JEFF: Thank you.

LISA: Did Mr. Doyle think I stole this case.

JEFF: No, Lisa -- I don't think he did.

LISA: Whatever happened to that old saying "Love Thy Neighbor."

JEFF: I think I'll start reviving it tomorrow, with say -- Miss Torso for a start?

JEFF: Do you suppose it's ethical to watch a man with binoculars, and a long- focus lens -- until you can see the freckles on the back of his neck, and almost read his mail -- do you suppose it's ethical even if you prove he didn't commit a crime?

LISA: I'm not much on rear window ethics.

JEFF: Of course, they have the same chance. They can look at me like a bug under glass, if they want to.

LISA: Jeff -- if anybody walked in here, I don't think they'd believe what they see.

JEFF: Huh?

LISA: You and me with long faces -- plunged into despair -- because we find out that a man didn't kill his wife. We're two of the most frightening ghouls I've ever known.

LISA: I hate funny exit lines.

JEFF: Who was the trunk addressed to?

LISA: Surprise -- is the most important element of attack. And beside, you're not up on your private eye literature. When they're in trouble, it's always their Girl Friday who gets them out of it.

JEFF: The same girl who keeps him out of the clutches of seductive show girls, and over-passionate daughters of the rich.

LISA: The same.

JEFF: But he never ends up marrying her. Strange.

LISA: Weird. Why don't I slip into something comfortable?

JEFF: You mean -- like the kitchen? And make us some coffee?

LISA: Exactly what I had in mind -- along with some brandy.

JEFF: From his landlord -- once a month.

LISA: It's utterly beautiful. I wish I could be creative.

JEFF: You are. You have a talent for creating difficult situations.

LISA: I do?

JEFF: Staying the night here, uninvited.

LISA: I'll trade you -- my feminine intuition for a bed for the night.

JEFF: I'd be no better than Thorwald, to refuse.

LISA: You said I'd have to live out of one suitcase I'll bet yours isn't this small?

JEFF: That's a suitcase?

LISA: A Mark Cross overnight case, anyway. Compact, but ample enough.

LISA: Say anything else, and I'll stay tomorrow night too.

JEFF: Lisa, I won't be able to give you any --

LISA: I have the whole weekend off.

JEFF: Well that's fine, but I only have one bed, and --

JEFF: We have all -- what?

LISA: Night. I'm going to stay with you.

JEFF: You'll have to clear that through my landlord --

LISA: I'd like to see your friend's face when we tell him. He doesn't sound like much of a detective.

JEFF: Don't be too hard on him. He's a steady worker. I wish he'd get there, though.

LISA: Don't rush me. We have all night.

LISA: But only her husband would know that. And the jewelry! Women don't keep all their jewelry in a purse, all tangled, getting scratched and twisted up.

JEFF: Do they hide it in their husband's clothes?

LISA: They do not! And they don't leave it behind them. A woman going anywhere but the hospital would always take makeup, perfume and jewelry.

JEFF: Inside stuff?

LISA: Basic equipment. You don't leave it behind in your husband's drawer in your favorite handbag.

JEFF: I'm with you, sweetie, but Detective Thomas J. Doyle has a pat answer for that.

LISA: That Mrs. Thorwald left at six ayem yesterday with her husband?

JEFF: That's what the witnesses told him.

LISA: Well, I have a pat rebuttal for Mr. Doyle -- that couldn't be Mrs. Thorwald -- or I don't know women.

JEFF: Still -- those witnesses.

LISA: We'll agree they saw a woman -- but she wasn't Mrs. Thorwald. -- That is, yet.

LISA: A woman has a favorite handbag -- it always hangs on her bedpost where she can get at it. Then she takes a trip and leaves it behind. Why?

JEFF: Because she didn't know she was going on a trip -- and where she was going she wouldn't need a handbag.

JEFF: Something on your mind, Lisa?

LISA: It doesn't make sense to me.

JEFF: What doesn't?

LISA: Women aren't that unpredictable.

JEFF: Lisa -- I can't guess what you're thinking.

LISA: All day long I've tried to keep my mind on work.

JEFF: Thinking about Thorwald?

LISA: And you, and you friend Doyle -- Did you hear from him again -- since he left?

JEFF: Not a word. He was going to check on the railroad station, and the trunk. He must be still on it.

LISA: Well, I guess it's safe to put on some lights now.

JEFF: Not yet!

LISA: I wonder where he's going now?

JEFF: I don't know.

LISA: Suppose he doesn't come back again?

JEFF: He will. All his things are still piled on the bed.

JEFF: That alligator bag his wife had on the bedpost --

LISA: What about it?

JEFF: He had it hidden in the dresser! Well, at least it was in there. He took it out, went to the phone and called somebody long distance. -- His wife's jewelry was in the handbag. And something about it worried him. He was asking somebody advice over the phone.

LISA: Someone not his wife?

JEFF: I never saw him ask her for advise before. But she volunteered plenty.

LISA: It doesn't seem to be in any hurry.

JEFF: He was just laying all his things out on one of the beds! Coats, suits, shirts, sox, even his wife's --

LISA: Okay, chief. What's my next assignment.

JEFF: To get on home.

LISA: All right -- but what's he doing now?

LISA: The name on the second floor rear mailbox reads Mr. And Mrs. Lars, that's L-A-R-S, Lars Thorwald.

JEFF: What's the apartment house number?

LISA: 125 West Ninth Street.

JEFF: No comment.

LISA: Don't you see how silly you're being?

JEFF: Okay, Lisa -- probably you're right. He's probably in the bedroom now, entertaining his wife with the indian rope trick. I'll admit to criminal insanity. Now when do I start the cure?

JEFF: Lisa, please!

LISA: There's nothing to see.

JEFF: There is -- I've seen things through that window! Bickering, family fights, mysterious trips at night, knives, saws, rope -- and since last evening, not a sight or sound of his wife! Now you tell me where she is and what she's doing!

LISA: Maybe he's leaving his wife. I don't know, and I don't care. Lots of people have saws, knives and ropes around their houses. Lots of men don't speak to their wives all day. Lots of wives nag, and men hate them, and trouble starts -- but very, very, very few of them end up in murder -- if that's what you're thinking.

JEFF: It's pretty hard to stay away from that word isn't is?

LISA: You could see all the things he did, couldn't you?

JEFF: What are you getting at?

LISA: You could see that he did because he had the shades in his apartment up, and walked along the corridor, and the streets and the backyard?

JEFF: Yeah.

LISA: Jeff, do you think a murderer would let you see all that? That he shouldn't keep his shades down and hide behind them?

JEFF: That's where he's being clever. Acting nonchalant.

LISA: And that's where you're not being clever. He wouldn't parade his crime in front of the open shades.

LISA: Jeff -- if you could only see yourself.

JEFF: Now, Lisa --

LISA: Sitting around, looking out a window to kill time, is one thing -- but doing it the way you are -- -- with, with binoculars, and with wild opinions about every little movement you see -- is, is diseased!

JEFF: Do you think I consider this recreation?

LISA: I don't know what you consider it -- but if you don't stop it, I'm getting out of here.

JEFF: You'd better before you catch the disease!

LISA: What is it you're looking for?

JEFF: I want to find out what's wrong with the salesman's wife. Does that make me sound like a madman?

LISA: What makes you think something's wrong with her?

LISA: A lot of things. She's an invalid who needs constant care -- and yet the husband nor anyone else has been in there all day.

LISA: Maybe she died.

JEFF: Where's the doctor -- the undertakers?

LISA: She could be under sedatives, sleeping. He's in the room now.

JEFF: What do you think?

LISA: Something too frightful to utter.

JEFF: Don't you ever have any problems?

LISA: I have one now.

JEFF: So do I.

LISA: Tell me about it.

JEFF: Why would a man leave his apartment three times, on a rainy night, with a suitcase? And come back three times?

LISA: He likes the way his wife welcomes him home.

JEFF: Not that salesman's wife. And why didn't he go to work today?

LISA: Homework. It's more interesting.

JEFF: What's interesting about a butcher's knife and a small saw wrapped up in a newspaper?

LISA: Nothing, thank heaven.

JEFF: Why hasn't he gone into his wife's bedroom all day?

LISA: I wouldn't dare answer that.

JEFF: Lisa -- there's something terribly wrong.

JEFF: I'm not exactly on the other side of the room.

LISA: Your mind is. And when I want a man, I want all of him.

JEFF: Can't we just sort of keep things status quo?

LISA: Without any future?

LISA: And it's deflating to find out that the only way I can be part of it -- is to take out a subscription to your magazine. I guess I'm not the girl I thought I was.

JEFF: There's nothing wrong with you, Lisa. You have the town in the palm of your hand.

LISA: Not quite -- it seems. Goodbye, Jeff.

JEFF: You mean "goodnight."

LISA: I mean what I said.

LISA: You don't think either one of us could ever change?

JEFF: Right now, it doesn't seem so.

JEFF: Huh? Try and find a raincoat in Brazil. Even when it isn't raining Lisa, on this job you carry one suitcase. Your home is the available transportation. You sleep rarely, bathe even less, and sometime the food you even look at when they were alive!

LISA: Jeff, you don't have to be deliberately repulsive just to impress me I'm wrong.

JEFF: If anything, I'm making it sound good. Let's face it, Lisa... you aren't made for that kind of a life. Few people are.

JEFF: Those high heels would be a lot of use in the jungle -- and those nylons and six-ounce lingerie --

LISA: Three.

JEFF: Well, they'd be very stylish in Finland -- just before you froze to death. Begin to get the idea?

LISA: Oh, I do that all the time. Whenever I have a few minutes after lunch.

JEFF: Ever get shot at, run over, sandbagged at night because people got unfavorable publicity from your camera?

JEFF: Did you ever eat fish heads and rice?

LISA: Of course not.

JEFF: You might have to, if you went with me. Ever try to keep warm in a C-54, at fifteen thousand feet, at twenty below zero?

JEFF: Lisa, simmer down -- will you?

LISA: You can't fit in here -- I can't fit in there. According to you, people should be born, live an die on the same --

JEFF: Lisa! Shut up!

LISA: If you're saying all this just because you don't want to tell me the truth, because you're hiding something from me, then maybe I can understand --

JEFF: There's nothing I'm hiding. It's just that --

LISA: It doesn't make sense to me. What's so different about it here from over there, or any place you go, that one person couldn't live in both places just as easily?

JEFF: Some people can. Now if you'll let me explain --

LISA: What is it but traveling from one place to another, taking pictures? It's just like being a tourist on an endless vacation.

JEFF: All right. That's your opinion. You're entitled to it, but --

LISA: It's ridiculous for you to say that it can only be done by a special, private little group of anointed people.

LISA: Almost as if it were being written especially for us.

JEFF: No wonder he's having so much trouble with it.

JEFF: Oh... some songwriter. In the studio apartment. Lives alone. Probably had an unhappy marriage.

LISA: I think it's enchanting.

JEFF: Well, she picked the most prosperous looking one.

LISA: She's not in love with him -- or any of them.

JEFF: How can you tell that -- from here?

LISA: You said it resembled my apartment, didn't you?

LISA: That's what is know as "manless melancholia."

JEFF: Miss Lonely Hearts. At least that's something you'll never have to worry about.

LISA: Oh? You can see my apartment all the way up on 63rd street?

JEFF: Not exactly -- but we have a little apartment here that's probably about as popular as yours. You, of course, remember Miss Torso.

LISA: Don't laugh. -- I could do it!

JEFF: That's what I'm afraid of. Could you see me -- driving down to the fashion salon in a jeep -- wearing combat boots and a three day beard?

LISA: I could see you looking handsome and successful in a dark blue flannel suit.

JEFF: Let's not talk any more nonsense, huh?

LISA: Jeff -- isn't it time you came home? You could pick your assignment.

JEFF: I wish there was one I wanted.

LISA: Make the one you want.

JEFF: You mean leave the magazine?

LISA: Yes.

JEFF: For what?

LISA: For yourself -- and me. I could get you a dozen assignments tomorrow... fashion, portraits --

LISA: You can't buy that kind of publicity.

JEFF: That's good news.

LISA: Someday you might want to open up your own studio here.

JEFF: How could I run it from say -- Pakistan?

LISA: What a day I've had!

JEFF: Tired?

LISA: Not a bit. I was all morning in a sales meeting. Then over to the Waldorf for a quick drink with Madame Dufresne -- just over from Paris. With some spy reports. Back to the "21" for lunch with the Harper's Bazaar people -- that's when I ordered dinner. Then two Fall showings -- twenty blocks apart. Then I had to have a cocktail with Leland and Slim Hayward -- we're trying to get his next show. Then I had to dash back and change.

JEFF: Tell me -- what was Slim Hayward wearing?

LISA: She looked very cool. She had on a mint green --

LISA: I couldn't think of anything more boring and tiresome than what you've been through. And the last week must be the hardest.

JEFF: Yeah -- I want to get this thing off and get moving.

LISA: Well, I'm going to make this a week you'll never forget.

LISA: Big enough?

JEFF: Fine. Corkscrew's on the right.

LISA: What would you think of starting off with dinner at the "21"?

JEFF: You have, perhaps, an ambulance outside?

JEFF: Picked it up in Shanghai -- which has also seen better days.

LISA: It's cracked -- and you never use it. And it's too ornate. I'm sending up a plain, flat silver one -- with just your initials engraved.

JEFF: Now that's no way to spend your hard- earned money!

LISA: I wanted to, Jeff. Oh!

LISA: It's opening night of the last depressing week of L. B. Jefferies in a cast.

JEFF: Hasn't been any big demand for tickets.

JEFF: Something big going on somewhere?

LISA: Going on right here. It's a big night.

JEFF: It's just a run-of-the-mill Monday. The calendar's loaded with them.

JEFF: Depends on the quote. Let's see -- there's the plane tickets over, import duties, hidden taxes, profit markups --

LISA: -- A steal at eleven hundred dollars.

JEFF: That dress should be listed on the stock exchange.

LISA: We sell a dozen a day in this price range.

JEFF: Who buys them? Tax collectors?

JEFF: The Lisa Fremont who never wears the same dress twice?

LISA: Only because it's expected of her.

LISA: How's your leg?

JEFF: Mmmm -- hurts a little.

LISA: And your stomach?

JEFF: Empty as a football.

LISA: And you love life?

JEFF: Not too active.

LISA: Anything else bothering you?

JEFF: Uh-huh.

JEFF: A man is assaulting a woman at one two five west ninth street. Second floor rear. Make it fast.

POLICE: Your name?

JEFF: L. B. Jefferies.

POLICE: Phone number?

JEFF: Chelsea 2-5598.

POLICE: Two minutes.