Too Late for Tears Page #2

Listen to me, Alan.

I love you, darling,

and if you decide we should never

touch the money, we won't.

But do we have to make up our minds now?

Can't we just hide it some place

where it can't be traced to us

and give ourselves time to think it out?

Please help me hide it.

I'll leave the rest to you.

If you don't think we should

ever touch it, we won't.

You mean that, Jane? There'll be no

more talk about it? No bitterness?

I mean it, Alan.

We'll keep it a week.

'Last call for the Santa Fe

-San Bernadino local.

'Train number 42 leaves at 10:10,

entering through gate M.

'This is the last call.

'The Union Pacific City of Los Angeles

train 103 is now arriving.'

It's done. Everything's all right

now, isn't it, darling?

Yeah, I... I guess so.

Where's the ticket?

It's all right.

It's here down in the lining.

There's a hole in the pocket.

It's safe there.

What did you say

to the man at the counter?

I didn't say anything

to the man at the counter.

But you did. I saw you.

Oh. Oh, yes.

I told him I was going to the hospital

and wouldn't be picking up

the bag for a while.

He said it was all right.

Fuller. Detective Bureau.

Yes?

Does an Alan Palmer live here?

Yes, my husband's at work.

Well, this is just a routine check,

Mrs. Palmer.

We have a license number, but we're

not absolutely sure of the accuracy of it.

May I come in?

- Mind if I look around a bit?

- Why?

You haven't anything to hide, have you?

No, I can see you haven't.

What's this all about, Mr. Fuller?

I told you, a routine check.

Like to look your place over.

Looking for what?

I didn't bring a warrant with me,

Mrs. Palmer.

Maybe I should go get one.

If I let you look around without one,

will you promise to tell me

what it's all about?

Perhaps it'll give me something

interesting to talk about

at bridge tonight.

Sure, Mrs. Palmer.

Thanks.

Leave them alone. Those are presents.

So, you've already

started spending it, huh?

- Spending it?

- Yes, honey, spending it.

I don't think I like that.

I'm sorry, but you're not making sense.

If you were an innocent housewife

with nothing to hide but the iceman,

you'd never let me in here.

You'd be screaming for that warrant

and sending wires to your congressman,

so let's cut the small talk.

- Where's my dough?

- Then you're not a policeman?

Only on my mother's side, honey.

Where's the dough?

Those things in the kitchen

happen to belong to my sister-in-law.

And I let you in because...

...well, housewives can get

awfully bored sometimes.

But believe me, I've no idea

what you're talking about.

You're too smooth, honey.

You're much too smooth.

Where's the dough?

- Where's that money?

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