Oh, good evening.
I just had a terrible nightmare.
It lasted only a minute but it was a shattering experience.
Let me tell you about it before we see tonight's play.
It was like a motion picture and as I watched,
a voice kept shouting at me...
YOU CAN'T TRUST A MAN
I asked for drums in the last number, not a native uprising.
Musicians.
Must have merged with the steel workers union.
Oh I thought you sounded lovely, Miss Coe.
'Lovely, Miss Coe', you always think I sound lovely, don't you, Pauline?
- Oh, but you do. - Of course I do.
And you like to collect your salary.
Oh, Miss Coe.
Oh um, I'm just tired Pauline, you must be tired too.
Why don't you go on home. I can manage.
Oh. If that's what you want.
That's what I want.
- Good night. - Good night, Pauline.
I knew you'd come, Tony.
I couldn't refuse it,
a personal invitation from the great Crystal Coe, right?
Delivered after I received your threatening note.
Threatening?
You must be imagining things.
That was just a fan letter.
You always did have a big imagination.
Remember the story you told me back in Cleveland?
"I can't take the rap Tony, I don't want our baby born in prison".
I never did get a birth announcement.
A girl can make a mistake.
She sure can.
No birth announcements, no letters.
Seven years is a long time to sit and stir,
without letters.
I didn't know you could sing, baby.
All right Tony, what do you want?
Seven years. Seven empty years.
At first I nearly went crazy wondering why you didn't write.
I even thought that stupid Jim Miller operator,
might have realized it was your fingers in his till instead of mine.
Then one day, the days, weren't empty anymore,
because I saw your picture in a newspaper.
I didn't recognize you right off, not with the dark hair,
the fancy clothes, and that name, Crystal Coe.
The paper said you just changed your name by marrying a band leader.
What happened to him, baby?
Was he the one who shot himself or,
was he the one who turned alcoholic?
No, no.
I remember now.
That was your uh, second husband.
I read all about it in one of those fan magazines.
"The tragic loves of Crystal Coe".
But the story went on to say that you had found happiness,
at last, with an older man,
old enough to own a few oil fields.
All right, so we've had the story of my life.
Not quite.
I could do a sequel.
"Crystal Coe's secret love".
How do you like that for a title?
- It will never sell. - Why not?
Because I can't swim in oil?
Because you can't prove anything.
You know better than that, baby.
No matter how many pieces of paper you destroy,
there's always a piece left somewhere.
Nice.
This must have cost Mr. Oil Wells a neat sum.
Oh, everything is so expensive these days.
How expensive, Tony?
Very nice.
Sometimes when I was sweating out that stretch for you,
I'd wake up in the night, forget where I was.
I'd reach out in the darkness and grab an armful of air.
We did have some good times together baby, didn't we?
You must remember that.
I stopped remembering a long time ago.
And I couldn't forget, that's the crazy thing.
Whatever you did, I made excuses.
Even when you stole the money, I blamed myself.
Because I couldn't give you all the things you wanted.
Remember how I used to tinker around in the basement,
trying to invent something that would make us rich?
Yes, no invention can improve on nature.
A girl has to live.
She can't wait around forever, she has to live.
Are you sure of that Crystal?
I could have saved the suckers you married a lot of cash,
if I had sounded off.
Me, the jailbird Crystal Coe couldn't acknowledge
even to a judge.
But that would have spoiled everything.
For both of us, Tony.
Yeah.
And now you're getting the idea.
That's what I had in mind all these years.
So Tony kept his mouth shut,
went on tinkering, and remembering.
They have places for that even in prison you know.
How much do you want, Tony?
You're not the only one that likes expensive things.
Seven years of hunger can give a man a real appetite,
for expensive things.
I ask you how much.
For what I want,
you won't need your checkbook.
After all, you never divorced me.
I'm still your husband.
I like the old days.
You don't have to remind me.
I bet I don't.
Real class.
I suppose when the ashtrays are filled you trade for a new model.
Not immediately. I had the chauffeur empty them the first six months.
Hey that's an oldie, remember that one?
The old tunes are the best.
The old tunes, the old loves.
Where are we going?
You called it Tony.
What about Mr. Oil Well?
Mr. Wyncliff is in San Francisco on business.
And the chauffeur?
There's no one at the beach house this time of year.
No one at all.
That should be cozy.
It's a long drive. I'd better get some gas.
Where you are going?
From now on, it's my business.
- This is where we part company. - I don't understand.
I bet you don't.
Nobody ever walked out on you did they, baby.
Nobody ever turned down such an invitation.
That's what I had in mind when I gave you that spiel
about those seven hungry years.
I wanted you to learn what it feels like to have the
only thing you can offer thrown back at your face.
Don't you get it?
I'm the stupid fool that sweated out
seven years in a cell because I loved you.
You were in my blood.
Even when I knew about all the other men,
I ripped your pictures apart.
A thousand times I've smashed your face
until it wouldn't look good to any man.
For seven years, I dreamed of what I'd do when I got out and found you again.
- Tony... - And last night I did find you.
I went to that club.
Saw the woman I go through so much for.
A fancy saloon tramp.
Is that why you wrote the letter to me?
Just to tell me that.
I didn't intend to tell you anything.
I wrote the letter so you'd know I was out,
so you could do a little sweating for a change.
I never intended to see you again.
I've had it baby, I'm cured.
I don't want you anymore in the beach house or anywhere else.
Wait, don't get out of here.
Oh, I get it.
- You're known here. - Yes I am.
And you wouldn't want a shabby bum like me
getting out of your car under all these lights.
Anymore than you wanted me to be seen at the club.
The dressing room, after the last show,
those were the directions.
You're very understanding.
Nice try baby, but you're not getting through.
Thank you.
Go on Tony, take it.
My gun.
You've kept it.
No thanks, baby, I don't want this gift either.
Would you please sign this now?
It's a terrible pen you've got there. Can you read the signature?
I sure can, madame.
Is the boulevard open all the way out to the beach?
They were working on it yesterday.
Boulevard? Um, yes, it's okay now.
Fine, I'll stay on the boulevard.
It's good to be able to find a service station open at this hour.
I usually have a chauffeur fill the tank every morning but this morning I forgot.
It's easy to get careless isn't it, Tony?
How did you set up this cozy rendezvous?
You said I was going to kill you?
As you said Tony, there's always a record left somewhere.
- A record? - Proof of our marriage.
Fortunately, you're the only person on this earth
who'd ever think to look for it.
Look, I told you I didn't want any part of you.
And I wouldn't dream spoiling your setup with Wyncliff.
Any man that marries you deserves all the grief he gets,
even if it isn't legal.
Let me out at that bus stop.
You can't get a bus this time of night.
Then I'll walk.
You don't have to walk, Tony. I'll take you where you're going.
What is this?
Is your pride wounded or something?
Do you still think you can stir up the embers at that beach house?
- Maybe that's it. - And maybe it is.
What's that?
The police.
You should kill me back at the station Tony, but I knew you wouldn't.
- You never have that kind of nerve. - I don't want your money.
- You get what you want, and keep it. - I don't want your money.
Tony, the first lesson I ever learned was that you can't trust a man.
What happened here lady?
He-he tried to kill me.
He tried to kill me.
This man kill me,
call police.
Did you write this statement to the station attendant, Miss Coe?
- Yes. - May I?
It-it was the only thing I could think to do, I was so frightened.
Well, did you know this man?
No, I'd-I'd never seen him before.
He was waiting in the car when I left the club after the last show.
Mm-hmm.
With this gun?
Yes.
I... I thought he wanted money. I...
I offered him my purse but he wouldn't get out.
I saw the service station up ahead and
I knew there was a police car behind me.
And then he heard the siren and, and he made me drive faster and,
I stopped the car suddenly and then he dropped the gun.
We struck for it...
Lieutenant, you heard my wife's story,
and you have the statement of the station attendant,
also the officer in the police car.
Now it's been a very rough night
and I'd like to take my wife home as soon as possible.
Well, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't.
Bum crawl in the car in the parking lot got himself shot struggling for the gun.
That's about the size of it.
Well thank you very much for your help, Miss Coe.
I won't need to detain you any further.
Of course you'll have to appear before the judge.
It's just a formality and then you'll be free to go.
It was a jolt getting off the plane to news like that last night.
- Was a jolt to me too. - I can see that.
I blame myself.
I could have cut the conference short and taken an earlier plane.
- It wouldn't have made any difference. - But it would.
I'd have been at the club to pick you up as usual.
Well you shouldn't be driving alone at that late hour.
Crystal, this nonsense has to stop.
When you finish at the club next week, I'm going to take you away.
I'll take you anywhere you want to go.
The Bahamas, Mexico, South America.
Oh George, that would be wonderful.
Then it's all settled.
Oh, when I think of last night.
What could have happened to you.
Now who could that be?
Well if it's those reporters again, I'll get rid of them.
I'm sorry, my wife... Lieutenant?
- Oh, come in. - Thank you.
I uh brought your wife's car back. I thought you might be needing it.
Oh well, we were just having some coffee, won't you join us?
No, thank you. Oh, good morning, Miss Coe.
I've been drinking coffee all night.
The Lieutenant brought your car back, darling.
- Your keys, Miss Coe. - Thank you Lieutenant.
Or rather I should say uh Mrs. Wyncliff?
I thought you might be interested to hear
what we learned about our friend of last night.
- Oh, sit down, Lieutenant. - Thank you.
You're a lucky woman, Mrs. Wyncliff.
That was a dangerous man, an ex-convict.
There's no doubt in my mind that the coroner's jury
will find this to be a clear case of self-defense.
This mess is going to cause somebody a headache.
I'm glad it's not my department.
- Headache? - A big headache.
You see Mrs. Wyncliff, downtown headquarters
had a full report on this man.
He was paroled in another state with permission
to come out here to close a business deal.
He had invented something while he was in prison,
some kind of electronic equipment
and few hours before his death he had signed a contract that,
well, should net him quite a sum in royalties.
It's going to entail a lot of work to dig up this man's past
and to find his beneficiary.
I just learned that nightmare I had was a commercial.
I suppose one can't expect to get pleasant dreams for nothing,
but I never realized before that they were sponsored.
Now that you know there is no escaping sleep,
perhaps you'll watch the following electronic nightmare.
Please do not be frightened. I should be right here all the time.
...all for tonight.
Now, you're on your own.
So until next week at the same time, pleasant dreams.