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Полуночная жара

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over
so you could, uh...
complete the identification?
Martin, l want you to take
Mrs Colbert over to the funeral parlour.
And, Wood, run Virgil down the depot.
uh... Virge here, Chief,
he thinks that Harvey's innocent.
- Well, l'll be damned.
- Could l talk to you about it, in private?
No. Because l got Colbert's wallet in my
hand, and we took it from Harvey Oberst.
- You think he gave it to him?
- I don't know.
But Oberst could have come along
after the crime, found it, picked it up.
- I don't know.
- That's what the boy said he did.
Well, l'm sorry, ma'am, but l say different.
When l examined the deceased,
it was obvious the fatal blow was struck
from an angle of
17 degrees from the right,
which makes it almost certain
the person who did it is right-handed.
- So what?
- (Shagbag) Harve's left-handed, Chief.
- Everybody in town knows that.
- We figured that out.
Harvey's a lefty. uh-huh.
You're sure of yourself, Virgil. Funny
name for a nigger boy from Philadelphia.
- What do they call you up there?
- They call me Mr Tibbs!
Mr Tibbs! Well, Mr Wood, take Mr Tibbs,
take him down to the depot.
And l mean, boy, like now!
I'll have the FBI lab
send you the report on this.
Not that it'll make any difference.
I'll take that.
No, you won't.
I'm sending it in personally.
(Mrs Colbert) My God!
What kind of people are you?
What kind of a place is this?
My husband is dead.
Somebody in this town killed him!
l want you to find out who!
You gonna give me that?
No, l'm not.
Wood, you take him,
and you lock him up
for withholding evidence.
Go on, move! Put him with
his friend, Harvey Oberst!
Well, Virgil, nobody threw your brains
to the hogs, that's for damn sure.
Hold on there, Arnold. Open her up again.
We got another customer.
(Harvey) Hey, man, not in here.
- Put him somewheres else!
- Don't push the panic button.
Play it cool, boy. Play it cool.
Hey!
- Hey!
- (door shuts)
What you doin'
wearin' white man's clothes?
Where d'you come from?
You deaf or somethin'?
Listen, l'm get...
Keep cool, Harvey.
I'm on your side.
Well, l don't need you!
I'm all you've got.
Police?
You're a cop?
- You're a cop.
- Mm-hm.
Yeah?
So, how come they locked you up?
How come they lock up a cop?
Who said they locked me up?
How come with all these empty cells here
they'd throw me in with you? You dig?
Look.
I already told 'em.
I see this fella lyin' on the street there.
And there's this wallet lyin' beside him.
Boy, l mean, l come into
this world outta luck.
Here's the first good thing
to come my way. And l pick it up.
But when l see whose wallet it is...
I mean, l start to sweat. But l heard
about this new chief. This Gillepsbie?
Got no more smile than a turnip.
So l cut across the fields, headin' for the
line, and got myself as far as the bridge
before Gillepsbie grabbed me.
What time did you find the wallet?
Well, l ain't got no watch, but it must have
been after two, by the courthouse clock.
I'm interested in eleven to two.
Where were you?
Shootin' pool. Larry's Lounge.
I got there about ten.
- What time'd you leave?
- Closin'. Must have been one.
- Anybody can swear for you?
- Packy, Bert, Les.
Ever been in trouble
with the police before?
Come on.
I could ask at the desk, you know.
Well, they brought me in one time.
- On account of this Delores Purdy.
- On what charge?
Well, uh, this Delores, she, uh...
she's real proud of what nature
done for her, you know?
And, uh...
Well, we was on a date
up to Clarke's Point, and, uh...
she says, uh... (sniggers)
Anyway, she asks me, she says, uh...
"Don't you think l got a classy build?"
And l say "Sure."
And so she starts to show me.
But l didn't do nothin' wrong.
I just didn't stop her from
tryin' to prove her point.
Then this cop, Sam Wood,
comes chargin' outta the bush
and hauls me in.
He let you go, didn't he?
Told me not to mess with her no more.
She lives on Third, a block
Полуночная жара Полуночная жара

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