The Big Heat

Mr. Lagana.

I know it's late. Wake him up.

Tell him it's Tom Duncan's widow.

I'm very sorry, Mr. Lagana, but there's an important call on the private line...

a woman who says she's Tom Duncan's widow.

Widow? That's what she said.

Yes? This is Lagana.

No. I'm glad you called me, Mrs. Duncan.

I appreciate it.

Yes, of course we will get together.

But now I suggest you call the police immediately.

Call Vince.

Mr. Lagana wants Vince Stone.

It's his girl. She says he's playing cards.

This is not a social call, Debby. Tell Vince I want him, right away.

Oh, sure, Mr. Lagana. I always like to tell Vince you're calling.

I like to see him jump.

Vince!

It's him!

Oh, pass the deal, hmm?

Why don't you shut the door and see if anybody needs a drink?

Well, I don't know about your politicians,

but I'm so bored I need one.

Two.

Debby! Shut the door.

Yes, Mike?

Well, I didn't know it was the private line ringing, or I would have answered myself.

When? When did it happen?

Oh, sure, I'll see to it.

Too bad you had to make the trip out from headquarters, Sergeant.

From out of bed, you mean. When a cop kills himself, they want a full report.

Did you know him? No. Just to say hello to.

He was in charge of the record bureau.

Single contact wound. Powder burn on his temple and right hand.

Suicide. No question. Tell the wagon boys they can have him, huh?

Yes.

No note or anything, huh, Gus? No. Nothing.

You'd better make a list of all this stuff for the report, huh?

Right.

I'm going upstairs, have a talk with Mrs. Duncan.

Please come in.

Mrs. Duncan, I won't keep you very long.

You needn't apologize. I know this is necessary.

Please sit down. Thank you.

My name is David Bannion. I... I knew your husband slightly.

Tom had many friends.

Would you mind telling me what happened?

When I first heard the shot,

I was too surprised to move for a few seconds.

Then I ran downstairs.

When I found him, he was...

he was dead.

I'm sorry I have to ask you these questions,

but they want a full report downtown.

Of course.

When a policeman kills himself, the department gets worried.

Well, that depends on the circumstances.

There weren't any circumstances.

Everything Tom ever did...

was clean and wholesome.

That's the kind of man he was.

Do you know why he took his life?

Oh, it-it must have been his health.

Several times the past few months,

he complained...

about a pain along his left side.

When I suggested he see the police surgeon,

he'd make excuses.

I think he was afraid to.

Then he didn't see a doctor?

Not that he ever told me.

Well, you've been most helpful.

Now look, if there's anything you need, anything at all,

you get in touch with us, huh?

Thank you, Mr. Bannion. Good-bye, Mrs. Duncan.

What's with dinner? How about putting the paper down and helping?

All right.

What's that, steak? Medium rare.

Yeah. How you manage steaks on my salary...

You know, downtown, they just don't believe me.

- Tell them you married an heiress. - All right.

Next year, when Joyce starts kindergarten,

you're gonna have to kiss the steaks good-bye until she finishes college.

Unless you become police commissioner in the meantime.

Oh, that's inevitable. Oh, naturally.

Okay, Commissioner, you get the stringy end of the steak.

- What about Joyce? She go to bed all right? - Just the usual tug-of-war.

She had to go to the bathroom a few times, hear three stories...

and have a glass of water before she finally went to sleep.

She's angelic all day. But at night, she's a holy terror.

That's the way I usually describe you.

That's what the book says, though, doesn't it? Be patient, but firm.

The book, the book. Very scientific and calm.

Trouble is, the authors have never met our daughter.

Well, it's very simple. She's madly in love with me. That's all.

Hey, you know something? That's the conflict between the two of you.

You're both in love with the same wonderful guy.

Right? Right. Wrong.

We're just used to you.

Well? How is it?

It's good steak. Thanks.

You want some beer? I'll take a sip of yours.

You see? That's exactly what I mean. It's a perfect marriage.

We share the same scotch, the same cigarette, the same can of beer.

Among other things.

Hey, you know something? I'm gonna drink mine. I'm gonna take a sip of yours.

That'll be something different for a change, huh?

Oh, they'll wake Joyce.

Hello?

Well, he's having dinner.

Oh. It's Sergeant Kahn.

Hello, Marty. Ye...

What?

Who says Duncan didn't kill himself?

I saw the body, Marty. There's no question about it being suicide.

All right, what's her name?

All right, I'll go see her.

Lucy Chapman around?

The last stool on the other end.

Lucy Chapman?

Yeah. I'm Bannion, Homicide.

Oh. With this band playing, you need megaphones to talk at the bar.

We can sit in a booth. All right.

Okay, what is this information you have?

This story's all wrong, Mr. Bannion. Why, Tom wouldn't kill himself.

He wasn't worried about his health, not for a single minute.

No? Then what was he worried about? Nothing. Nothing at all.

Not after his wife agreed to divorce him.

Duncan told you he was getting a divorce? He talked about nothing else.

When was this? Night before last. My night off.

What'll it be, folks? You don't have to order anything.

That's all right. I'll have a beer. What about you?

Only when I'm working.

- How'd you get to know Duncan? - Well, I... I met him a year ago.

A year last May 11, down in Lakeside.

Tom owned a summer place there.

I liked him right away.

He was a real wonderful guy, Mr. Bannion. Nice and gentle.

Thirty-five, mister. Pay now.

Keep it. Thank you.

Tom used to come to the club every night.

His wife traveled a lot.

Sometimes, when she was away, I...

I used to go to the house.

We'd go swimming and then lie around in the sun. That sounds very cozy.

Oh, it wasn't that way, Mr. Bannion.

Oh, sure. Sure.

Please. Please, you've got to believe that.

You've got to understand how things were with Tom.

How he was caught between the two of us.

Between me and that... that leech he was married to.

What's your pitch, Lucy? You trying to use us for a shakedown?

Shakedown?

Me?

Sure. I understand.

You're covering up for a cop's widow.

You don't want to find out anything that'll change her story.

- I want to find out facts. - Oh, in a pig's eye you want facts!

The only difference between me and Bertha Duncan is that I work at being a B-girl...

and she has a wedding ring and a marriage certificate. That'll be all.

Maybe for you. I can still talk to the newspapers.

Yeah, I know. You can talk yourself into a lot of trouble.

So what? At least I'll show she's a liar.

Tom had no reason to kill himself.

The fact is, he did kill himself. And that's positive.

Can I have a brandy?

She claims that she saw your husband a few nights ago...

Wednesday night... and there was nothing wrong with his health.

What are you trying to say, Mr. Bannion?

I'm... just trying to check up on her story,

find out why your husband took his life.

Maybe I've been trying too hard to keep our dirty family linen from being washed in public.

I suppose that woman told you about their relationship?

She said your husband was in good health and very cheerful, Mrs. Duncan,

and that you'd agreed to divorce him.

She's a liar. Tom never wanted a divorce.

And he wasn't a well man.

I have no choice now...

except to tell you about Tom and myself.

In the years we were married, there were four Lucy Chapmans.

Four that I found out about.

Tom was vain.

He had to prove to himself that he was still attractive to women.

Maybe he did boast to that woman that he was in good health.

What else would you expect him to do?

I wish this visit hadn't been necessary.

There's a chance Lucy Chapman might try a little blackmail.

She knows that you own that house at Lakeside.

Probably thinks you're wealthy.

A wealthy policeman would be a novelty.

Thank you for your patience, Mr. Bannion.

There's just one small thing I'd like to clear up,

you know, so there'll be no loose ends.

Of course. Would you mind telling me about the house at Lakeside?

When it was bought, the price that was paid, small details like that.

I'd mind very much!

For Tom's sake, I resent the implication of your questions.

Look, Mrs. Duncan, there was no implication.

Lucy Chapman may run to the newspapers,

and it's my job to have the material to offset any insinuations that she might make.