Shadow of the Thin Man Page #3

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from a bullet wound...

...penetrating the left eye

and then the brain.

A.38-caliber bullet, or maybe

a little bigger. I'll get it for you later.

Would the angle of fire be okay

if it was fired from that window?

Mind your own business, Clarke.

I'm running the Homicide Squad.

Not you and your paper.

A couple guys get out there and beat

through the grounds for the gun.

Come on! Okay, you guys.

You took enough pictures

to paper a house.

- Well, Nick Charles! What's cooking, kid?

- Give us the lowdown.

- I've got nothing to do with this case.

- Oh, come on, Nick.

- I'm looking for Lieutenant Abrams.

- Come on, Nick.

You're only wasting your film.

I'm just a bystander. Hello, Paul.

Will you call these newshawks off?

I've got nothing to do with this.

I'm looking for Abrams.

He been around?

I thought I told you guys to beat it.

Mr. Charles has got no connection

with this case.

What did I tell you? Lieutenant,

have you any influence with the police?

- Sure, I got great connections.

- Maybe you can help me out.

My car is completely surrounded

by your mechanized division.

Sure. Say, get some of those squad cars

out of Mr. Charles' way.

- Right.

- Thanks, lieutenant.

Nick! Nick, I wanna ask you something.

- But...

- Just a minute, Nick, I'll be right back.

I room with Goldez, and last night

he didn't sleep a wink.

He was scared. He knew they

were laying for him. Poor Goldez.

He never kept a horse from winning

till they made him do it.

Is it all right with you

if I question these witnesses?

Get back in there, kid.

Get him out, and keep him out!

The gamblers, they murdered Goldez.

They were afraid he'd squeal.

They laid for him, and they got him.

Get it, quick!

Let him get the picture.

- Okay.

- Dry up!

All right, let's go.

Clarke, how about splitting

with us on this picture?

- Sorry, Barrow, that's exclusive.

- Don't be like that.

Let me take it.

I'll have prints made for all of us.

I wouldn't trust you with that plate.

Something might just happen to it.

Why, you punk newshog.

Another crack like that, and I'll...

Fight outside, you scribblers!

Go on, get outside and kill each other.

See if I care.

Get them out of here!

Wait a minute, Mr. Charles.

- Look, they're almost at the post now.

- We're old friends.

So I don't mind letting you in

on the dope before the papers.

Every time I miss a race,

I'm losing dough.

The murderer couldn't get in

from this side...

...and there are no footprints

on the outside.

There's no gun, no clue, no nothing.

Very interesting, huh?

- Yes, very.

- Of course, I know just what to do.

- Oh, of course you do.

- But, Nick, what would you do?

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