The Two Jakes

I suppose it's fair to say that infidelity made me what I am today.

I know lots of investigators won't handle divorce cases.

The truth is not that many guys are good at matrimonial work.

It takes finesse and experience.

Hell, everybody makes mistakes.

But if you marry one, they expect you to pay for it for the rest of your life.

I don't care whose fault it is, his, hers or the milkman's.

If one of them comes to me, it means they're both miserable.

And that's my job, putting people out of their misery.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, Kitty. How could you?

You told me you were going to the beauty parlor in Hollywood...

and now I find you here,

just where they said I'd find you, in Room 19-H of the...

Bird of Paradise Motel.

Of the Bird of Paradise Motel in Redondo Beach...

at two in the afternoon on October 27th, 1948, with this man.

Mr. Berman, uh, it's unnatural to discuss what year it is

when you're staring at your wife in bed with another man.

But my lawyer said to be very specific...

We'll establish the date. Just, uh...

All right?

Oh, no, no. Oh, no.

It's an earthquake.

Relax.

Mr. Gittes? Did you feel that?

Uh, yes, Gladys, we felt it. And everybody all right out there?

- All right. - Are we okay?

Relax, Mr. Berman. It's just a temblor.

- A trembler? - Uh, temblor.

Look, uh, I know how edgy you must be, Julius, but...

My friends call me Jake.

Well, that makes two of us.

That's what my friends call me.

Is that right? Is that right?

He's a Jake and I'm a Jake.

Yeah. How about that? Two Jakes.

Now, uh, listen, Jake.

Uh, I never lost a husband yet, but I got a golf date at 1:00,

and if I'm not ready to tee off at 12:55, they'll break every club in my bag.

You're kidding. That's terrible.

No, that's the Wilshire Country Club. I'm lucky they let me join.

I know what you mean.

Uh... Please, Mr. Berman... Uh, Jake. Go ahead.

Oh, no, Kitty. How could you?

You told me you were going to the beauty parlor in Hollywood,

and now I find you here, just where they said I'd find you, in Room 19-H

of the Bird of Paradise Motel in Redondo Beach

at two in the afternoon with this man.

- Oh, no, Kitty. How could you? - What's going on here?

You told me you were going to the beauty parlor in Hollywood.

- And now I find you here. - Jake, what's this gonna prove?

Just where they said I'd find you, in Room 19-H

of the Bird of Paradise Motel in Redondo Beach.

- Just take it easy. - With him?

How could you, Kitty? How could you?

With him? Not with him!

Not with him!

- Not with him! - Look, Jake.

- We were going to tell you soon. - Get her out of here!

Ow, damn!

What the fuck... Hey!

- Damn! - Just calm down, ma'am.

- Just calm down. - Where did that gun come from?

Somebody call an ambulance!

Come on.

Get pictures of everything, Larry.

Most cops' ethics are a little like the cars they drive,

black and white.

Lou Escobar is different.

I did my share of fighting in the war and even got a medal for it,

but Lou lost a leg with the 1st Marines at Guadalcanal.

So he knows about regrets and what might have been

and how life doesn't always give you a fair shake.

Cowboys and Indians!

You can't trust a guy who's never lost anything.

How's that, Lou?

Your client shot a guy right out of his saddle.

Oh, yeah.

I never had anything like that happen to me before.

Not while I was in the room, anyway.

See you, Lou.

You witnessed it.

I was next door.

By the time I got in the room, Berman had him trapped in the john.

He fired the last two shots through the door.

- They could've struggled over the gun. - I'm sure they did.

Why are you so sure if the door was closed?

You're right, Lou.

Maybe the guy shot himself three times and gave Berman the gun.

Jake, walk me to Homicide.

I just came from there, Lou.

Besides, I got an appointment at 8:00 at Perino's with Linda.

I'll give you an escort.

Now, where did Berman get a hold of the gun?

In the bedroom.

In the bedroom. How do you know he didn't have the gun with him?

Oh, I'd never frisk him

before I let him walk in on his wife hanging on the headboard

while some guy was slamming her into the wall, Lou.

Just asking you, Jake.

Look, Berman got the gun from somewhere in the motel room and fired it.

Somewhere in the motel room?

That's absolutely all I know.

Then what happened?

What usually happens when somebody pulls a gun?

Hmm?

Everybody ducks.

I guess you talked to the investigating officer,

Detective Loach.

I just came on duty, Lou.

Now, this is not a case where I want any difficulty for anybody.

It's simple. A guy gets fucked getting fucked.

Let's not get cute.

Haven't seen you in a while, Jake.

I never seem to get away from my desk.

Makes me wonder. I should've made captain.

Well, for your 28th year, Lou, I'll get you a pillow for your chair,

something you can sit on besides Loach.

Jake, there's a call for you.

Ben, I need that file when you're done.

This is Homicide. It ain't your office.

Let it ring.

You're not lost, are you, Gittes? You know the way out.

Jesus. Don't go, don't go. You're just the man I wanna see.

What for? I can't. I just got asked to leave.

- Is that true? - Yes, Mr. Weinberger.

Answer the phone, please.

Get the phone.

Homicide.

Uh, Lieutenant Loach, it's for him. It's his office again.

Take your call.

He's been disruptive, Mr. Weinberger.

Disrupting Homicide is not all bad.

So we have sheets, blankets,

one shower curtain with broken rings attached,

toupee...

And I do need to speak with Mr. Gittes about our client.

- Our client? - I'm counsel for Jake Berman.

We have one two-inch Smith & Wesson revolver

registered in the name of the dead man, Mark Bodine,

on behalf of B&B Homes.

No wire recording on the police report?

His men didn't pick one up. What's B&B Homes?

You're not thinking, Jake.

B&B Homes.

Bodine & Berman.

It's just another one of their corporations,

Berman's and the dead man's.

Just remember, you have a fiduciary relationship

with our client, Mr. Berman.

We'll talk about it later.

I'll be in my office.

Can I use your phone?

Cotton was right.

We should have turned up B&B Homes,

and maybe Berman's partner would still be chasing his wife

instead of cooling his dick down at the county morgue.

So my client didn't level with me, not exactly Movietone News.

Cotton only tells one side of the story in court.

Escobar knows I don't tell him everything.

And when husbands and wives lie to each other,

one of them comes to my office and lies to me.

Frankly, if I waited for an honest client,

I'd be sitting around until Rocky Graziano played Rachmaninoff

at the Hollywood Bowl.

- Lucy, what the hell's going on? - I don't know, Mr. Gittes.

I wouldn't go in there if I was you.

Ralph, what are you doing to that woman?

- Let go of her this instant. Ralph! - Oh, my God!

- Ow! - Don't you touch me!

Oh, my goodness.

Oh, I'm terribly, terribly sorry.

- Oh, I know how difficult this must be. - Yeah.

- It must hurt you so. - Yeah. Yes, it does.

Everything will be fine.

Just rest for a moment.

See? All right.

Scotch.

All right. Now, who the fuck is that?

- Mark Bodine's widow. - Who?

The wife of the guy that Jake Berman shot.

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yes.

She knows you were there when he was killed.

So what? So was Mrs. Berman.

Why ain't she over at her house breaking the joint? It'd be appropriate.

She wants to talk to you.

You're a war hero.

Oh, you may be slick as a floorwalker,

but you and that little kike killed my husband, you son of a bitch!

Gladys, get my lawyer on the phone. Ralph.

They're not gonna get away with this.

Mrs. Bodine, if you were there, you would've known

that when Mr. Berman saw Mrs. Berman in bed

with your husband, he just lost his head.

That little prick never lost his head or the first nickel he ever made.