The Ex-Mrs. Bradford

WILLIAM POWELL and JEAN ARTHUR THE EX-MRS. BRADFORD

Extra! All about the favourite's jockey's death.

Jockey Eddie Sands dies of heart attack!

'Luxury' jockey falls dead on track!

'Warcloud' wins in big upset!

Favourtite jockey falls dead from horse!

Extra! 'Luxury' disqualified!

Are you in, Sir?

Yes.

Hello, Stokes. - Dr Bradford is not in.

So I see.

Hello, Brad.

Paula!

Darling!

Well...!

No need to ask how you are.

I'm fine anyway. How are you?

I was alright. I thought you were in China... I hoped.

Brad, I want you to know Mr Frankenstein.

How do you do?

You're Dr Lawrence Bradford?

Yes.

You're sure you're Dr Bradford?

I think so.

I am Dr Bradford, aren't I? - Oh yes, you're Dr Bradford.

Then, Dr Bradford...

I hereby serve you with a subpoena in a suit

for the non-payment of alimony, brought by Paula Bradford.

And for a minute I was glad to see you.

As for you...

I suppose I'll be thrown out again.

Yes Sir, quite so, Sir.

Are you going to pay me my alimony?

No.

Oh, yes you are, the judge said so.

Paula, I hate to introduce mundane matters into our idyllic relationship...

But after all, you already have about two thirds of the money in California.

That has nothing to do with it. It's a matter of principle.

You agreed to pay it, and I'm going to make you...

even if I have to spend all my own money to do it.

Seems a shame to have you supporting all those lawyers.

Now that's just what I think!

Why can't we talk it over.

We just did.

Pardon me, Sir, but our dinner is getting cold.

Oh, good... dinner!

This is hardly the occasion for a banquet, but...

Stokes, lock up the silver.

Very good, Sir.

Brad.

I've come to a terrific decision.

Yes?

I'm going to marry you again.

That's the thing I like about you... you're so subtle.

I was only doing it for your sake, so you wouldn't have to pay me the alimony.

Trying to bribe me, eh?

Coffee? - Please.

Let's see, 4 lumps wasn't it? - Yes, that's me.

You know, Paula, I think you're the swellest girl in the world

If you and I could've made a go of it, I wouldn't let you divorce me.

As it was, our life together was simply intolerable.

I thought it was fun.

Fun?

I wonder if you realise

that you and your mysteries were practically making a wreck out of me.

Darling, are you going to bring that up again?

I certainly am... right now!

I don't want to be involved any more in your cockeyed murder mysteries.

I like things the way they are now...

I can pick up my paper in the morning...

read about a murder, and enjoy it.

You know, for an intelligent man, you have a very narrow mind.

I never tried to interfere with your career as a surgeon.

You shouldn't have interfered with my writing mystery stories.

It wasn't your writing mystery stories that got me down,

it was your insisting upon living them

And what was worse, insisting upon MY living them.

Did you realise that the last 3 months we were married...

you kept me so busy running down clues...

that I spent more time at the morgue than I did at my office.

And they weren't my patients, either.

Beat you to that one, didn't I?

Brad, don't move.

I'm not moving.

You got a gun?

Ready, Sir?

It's alright, Stokes, there'll be no pictures tonight.

Very good, Sir.

What are you trying to do... turn this into a neighbourhood movie?

Stokes and I don't like to stand in line. This is simpler.

That's our projection booth. - Very nifty!

Brad... look!

Come in Miss Prentiss. - I was just leaving, doctor...

How nice to see you back, Mrs Bradford.

How nice to see you two together again!

Thank you.

Is this a frame-up?

Well, you know, "great minds... "

No, I don't know any great minds.

Goodnight, Miss Prentiss.

Goodnight dr Bradford. Goodnight Mrs. Bradford.

Goodnight.

Say, Brad...

Speaking of murders... - Which we won't..

That was a marvelous melodramatic setup at the racetrack this afternoon!

What do you mean, the jockey? - Yes.

Eddie Sands' death was a very unfortunate accident.

But it was not a melodrama.

Not a melodrama? You're crazy! Think of it...

Those horses thundering down the stretch.

'Luxury', the favourite, 12 lengths in the lead...

Millions of dollars riding on his nose.

Hidden behind the three-quarter-pole is a villain...

with a rifle with a maximum silencer...

He shoots... the jockey falls... - My dear ex...

'Luxury' was not 12 lengths in the lead...

There is no place for anyone to hide at the three-quarter-pole...

There was no rifle fired, the jockey was not shot...

He fell from his horse on a corner. It's said it was heart failure.

I don't quite see how...

At all events, there's no melodrama involved.

And you've got your thumb in a nutcracker.

Hiya, Mike.

Say, terribly sorry about this afternoon.

This is Mrs Bradford, Mr North. - Glad to know you.

I didn't know you were married, doc.

I'm not. - We're going to be.

No, we're not. Sit down, Mike.

Mr North is the trainer of 'Luxury'.

He's the man who taught Eddie Sands everything he knew.

Oh, really?

We were just talking about the murder of that poor Jockey this afternoon.

What do you know about it? - He was murdered wasn't he?

Yes, but I didn't think anybody knew about it, except me.

See, I told you!

I thought the report was heart failure.

You examined Eddie, doc... not two weeks ago.

Did you ever see a finer boy?

Was there anything the matter with his heart?

That's why I couldn't understand why...

Have you been to the police with this? - This is my job.

Did Eddie have any enemies, Mr. North?

An organisation of spies perhaps?

Paula...

Mike...

What makes you so sure of this?

Look at this, doc...

'Luxury' is an odds-on favourite...

'Warcloud' is 4 to 1.

There are 8 horses running, but it's only a 2-horse race.

The only chance 'Warcloud' has to win, is for 'Luxury' to break a leg.

'Warcloud' is setting the pace, but Eddie is giving Luxury a beautiful ride.

He's ridden him just off the pace...

At the head of the stretch, he makes his move

'Luxury' passes the field, and on the stretch is 3 lengths in the lead.

A cinch winner, when... Eddie falls.

When I got to him... he's dead.

Jockeys have fallen from horses before.

Eddie was dead before he fell.

How do you know that?

He didn't have a broken bone, doc.

You don't fall limp and relaxed like that, if you're conscious.

I found this in his locker, right after the race.

"You'll do as I've told you. Keep your mouth shut."

No one will take your word against mine.

Who wrote this? - I don't know.

But I'm going to find out, and you're going to help me.

I want you to examine Eddie's body.

That won't be necessary, Mike, because the coroner will perform the autopsy...

But I want you to do it, doc.

Of course he'll do it, Mr North.

I'd be mighty grateful, doc.

Here we go again!

Alright, Mike, I'll examine him. - That's swell.

Thanks, doc.

I'm going to do a little scoutin' around on my own.

Do me a favour, will you...

Take care of this note for me.

Of course we will. - Thanks. I'll see you back here, later.

Isn't this exciting?! I'll get my wrap.

Where are you going? - I'm going with you.

You can't go with me... I'm going to the morgue.

What a coincidence...! That's just where I'm going.

Oh, Stokes...

Yes, Sir?

Your hat and coat.

MY hat and coat? But they wouldn't fit you sir!

I'm not going to wear them... you are.

But I'm not going out, Sir.

Yes, you are... You're going with us.

That's very kind of you, Sir...

Might one ask where we're going?

To the morgue.

To the morgue, Sir?!

Yes, very good, Sir.

Paula, I wish you'd go home. - Nothing doing.

My goodness, that looks just like a refrigerator.

What is it? - A refrigerator.

Paula, this is definitely no place for a woman.

Alright, I'll make you a proposition...