Popular folklore would have us believe that there exists in the underworld...
ruthless men who fear nothing.
This story should debunk that myth.
August 14, 2:00 a. m.
While the upper strata of the syndicate were accustomed to dealing in millions,
the foundation of their fortune was here in their countinghouses,
in the small change of the numbers racket.
Mr. Albert Berg, head collections man.
A graduate of an Ivy League business school,
he was an incompetent, even by syndicate standards.
The only smart thing he'd ever done was marry the boss's sister.
Willie Pike-he had never been convicted of anything by anybody, except the boxing commission.
Willie took a dive into the canvas and on through into the bulletproof car set.
Willie was making a bundle, a bundle he would never get to spend.
2:30 a. m. Willie Pike, onetime heavyweight contender,
nowjust one heavy pile oflifeless junk.
According to the police, Willie had died from severe blows.
A gangland killing- no suspects, no leads.
So, what else was new?
I got into the office before the other idiots arrived...
and banged off my story and thought I'd heard the last of it.
Ohh! Well, it shouldn't have been there. What did-What?
No food or beverages in this office.
All right. It's okay. Don't worry about it. Uh, no!
I'll clean it up myself. It's all right. Just leave it as it is.
Here. Will you just do me a favor, please, and take this in to Mr. Vincenzo.
Pretty please?
Good morning, Carl. Did you get those extra pencils you wanted?
Oh, yeah. Listen, I read your Willie Pike story.
Oh, well, you must have taken up speed-reading. I just typed it.
Oh, it's very good. Really. Oh? You've got it upside down.
- Oh. - What do you want of me?
I'm starving. Let's go down to Manny's, grab a cup of coffee and a piece of Danish.
The last time you invited me out for coffee and Danish,
I ended up in Sioux Falls, Iowa, covering a hardware convention.
And the time before that- Well, listen.
Can't a man take a coworker to coffee without being suspect?
Coworker? The last time you called me a coworker,
I spent three days rewriting the obituaries,
because Charlie Creach was out on one of his benders!
Coworker? I had no coworker! I was the coworker!
This is big, Carl, really big. Y- Y-Yeah. Yeah, right up to here.
A police raid. TAC squad units.
Syndicate burial ground. When?
Sometime today. You'll be the first one there. It'll be an exclusive, Carl.
Syndicate? Yep.
Exclusive? Yep.
What's the catch?
No. Absol- No, no. No way. Now-Now-Now, hear me out. Hear me out now.
We've been very unfair to Miss Marmelstein.
L - She's very bright and very capable.
And I think she has the makings of a fine reporter! No! I work alone!
That - What? Listen. Vincenzo!
Now, listen. Listen. Don't you understand?
Her uncle is - Is Abe Marmelstein, the big muck in I.N.S. In New York.
Yeah. Wh-Who I have to answer to.
Yeah, but I don't! Yeah, but you have to answer to me!
Listen, keeping Monique assigned to recipe columns, keeping her tied up filing - that's wrong, very wrong.
She wasn't hired as a secretary. She could be a journalist, Carl,
a very good journalist with your help. W - With my help?
Yes. I think you and Monique would get along very well.
I have a feeling there's a similarity between the both of you.
She has the same kind of savvy, the same kind of drive!
Well, I'll agree with you on one thing. She's got a lot of drive.
Now, it's your byline, Carl. All the way, she's only there to learn.
Absolutely not. You won't hear a word out of her!
She'll listen to every word you say. No!
Absolutely, infinitely, definitely no!
I don't care what anybody else thinks.
Listen. I know the malicious talk that's goin' on in the office about me.
I mean, "nespotism" has nothing to do with it. What?
- "Nesitism. " - Nepotism.
Oh, that's right! Uncle Abe didn't go to the Columbia School ofJournalism. I did.
I'm fully trained, and I'm fully qualified. All I need now is a chance.
I'm glad you brought that up. Things may get a little rough this afternoon.
- Rough? - Rough. Yeah. Maybe even dangerous.
James and Perry Russo.
I'm ordering you to surrender at once.
We have you completely surrounded.
Time, 4:20.
The apple farm and cider works owned byJames and Perry Russo.
James and Perry Russo, I'm warning you to surrender at once.
Open fire! All units!
Captain Leo Winwood and I had a relationship that was long and bloody,
like the Crusades, only without the chivalry.
Get down!
Get down! You'll get your head blown off!
What-
Get that stupid female out ofhere!
No, wait. I got an idea. What?
Yeah, well, I'll tell you what you do. What?
They're gonna come running back on this side here, and you can get the shot.
Oh, yeah? Really? Yeah!
Yeah, yeah. You get inside there. You'll get some pictures. Oh, oh, oh. Okay. Okay.
What kind of a crazy stunt were you trying to pull with that dame, Kolchak?
I had never met her before in my life.
You'd stop a bullet with that cabbage blossom you call a head.
- Don't expect to ride in one of our ambulances. - Yes, sir!
Then came the part that makes the news what it is today,
getting pictures of the bodies.
Sorry, gentlemen, but this barn is off-limits!
There'll be no pictures taken!
- Clear this area! - Clear the area!
A few words, sir. Clear the area!
There'll be no pictures taken!
Clear this area! Clear the area!
Since I wasn't allowed in the barn, I thought I'd have a chat with Gordon Spangler,
also known as "Gordy the Ghoul. '"
An enterprising fellow who tends the morgue,
Gordy has struck gold in the land of the dead.
He runs a lottery based on the birth years of the corpses he was hired to watch over.
Charming.
I'll take two. Uh, any particular numbers-
Whatever. Just let's get this nonsense over with. Okay.
- Now, what can I do for you? - You got the Russo brothers in here yet?
Oh, yeah. They're here all right, nice and snug.
Oh, but I couldn't comment on that. Why, I'd get in big trouble.
Why, I wouldn't make a peep about that, not even for 20 bills.
There's a wall around them. I've been iced out of it.
But, Dr. Wedemyer sent for this during the autopsies.
Willie Pike, ex-boxer, ex-numbers dude.
They brought him in two nights ago. Yeah, yeah. I remember.
I wrote about it. He died from severe blows, didn't he? Mm-hmm.
Wait a minute. Wait a minute. They call that severe blows?
There's another thing, Kolchak.
Real weird. Oh, come on, Gordy. Look, I'm broke!
Okay, okay. This is a freebie.
But you got to help me schlep this guy. He weighs a ton.
They brought him in with the Russos.
Now, here's the weird part, Kolchak.
This black guy we're gonna schlep? Yeah?
We had him in here last week.
Wait! What do you mean, you had him in here last week? Dead?
Uh-huh. As dead as six .44 Magnum slugs can make ya.
But I never saw those slugs draw chicken blood before.
And that's what that guy had in his ears.
- Chicken blood? - County Morgue. Spangler.
Oh, hold on. It's for you.
- Ch-Chicken blood? - That's right.
Listen, Kolchak. Monique is gonna call her Uncle Abe.
- Abe "The Smiling Cobra. " - In his ear?
- That's right. - What are you talking about?
- What happened? - They buried him.
- Buried him. - Bury who? Abe Marmelstein?
- If she gets to him, he's gonna come down on me like a ton of- - Chicken blood.
- Whatever. Then I'm gonna come down on you. - Why?
- That's management. - I don't know.
- You're gonna have to apologize to her. - Can you help me?
Yeah, I think I can convince her to come to the phone. Now, you hang on.
- Help you? - Yeah, you know, the what, where, who, how and why.
Well, yeah. I guess so... for a fee.
For a fee. Terrific. Terrific. Yeah, hello. Hello?
Listen, Monique. Everything's gonna be all right. He's gonna apologize to you.
Hello?
I'm listening.
Hello. Hello!
I'll kill him!
9:00 a. m., August 16. The official police briefing-
as foolish a game as any that "Gordy the Ghoul'" could make up.
And so, uh, you see we had no alternative...
but to return a lethal barrage of weapons fire. Uh, sir.
Sir, Kolchak, I.N.S. Sit down, Kolchak.
Yes, sir. Rumor has it that Willie Pike did not die from severe blows...
but died by having his spine snapped.
There's another rumor that says that the Russo brothers died the same way.
Now, what about it? Now, in terms of the corpses buried on the Russo farm,
we have uncovered six.
We believe that there may be as many as 15 or 20 more yet to be uncovered.
Uh, sir, you haven't answered my question, sir.
You know, Kolchak, these meetings are held as a courtesy.
At my discretion, certain members of the press could be denied access.
Well, I wouldn't miss very much, sir. For example,
I didn't hear one word mentioned in your report...
of a third body found in the Russo brothers' barn.
- A black man. That's right, sister. - Well.
For once, Mr. Kolchak is not stating rumor but fact.
A third body was found-
- Negro, male, as yet unidentified. - Sir?
Good day. Sir, that black guy's spine wasn't snapped. He was shot.
But not by the police, unless they're using. 44s.
Who was he, and what was he doing in that barn, sir?
Sir?
Go on. Get your own story, will you?
Aphone call to "Gordy the Ghoul'" informed me...
that the black man in question was being buried at city expense.
I should let him rest in peace.
Hi there. Carl Kolchak, Independent News Service.
Uh, is that grave over there for the body from the morgue?
- Tell me about it. - Who are they burying?
They want union trouble, I could blow the lid right off.
You know, it's against the law to put two parties in the same plot,
unless it's a family plot. Two parties?
They buried a party there last week.
They're stacking 'em like they would be in a high-rise to save money.
Oh, what a mess to come back to after I've been out sick with the flu.
Yeah.
Take care. Yes, sir.
Looks like we're the only mourners here.
Kolchak, you keep a lot of people away from their jobs by your nosin' around.
Tell me, why is a gold-button captain of the city's finest...
attending the burial of a black pauper?
And who is this black pauper that was buried in this cemetery last week,
ended up in the Russos' burial ground yesterday...
and then finally ends up in this cemetery today?
Kolchak, now you get out of here.
Or let me put it another way-
If you continue to butt into this situation, you're gonna find yourself...
pounding on your typewriter with casts up to your shoulders.
You gonna break my arms, Captain?
Now, would I wanna do a thing like that to you, Kolchak?
Just ask yourself.
Thirty-one it is. Oh, whatever.
Let's just get this stupid game over with. Tell me!
Well, the black guy's a Haitian, up-and-comer in the numbers.
Got it about a week, uh, 10 days ago-
.44-caliber Magnums. Yeah, the caliber I know all about.
Oh, yeah. I forgot. You got that for free.
Well, his name is Francois Edmonds. Syndicate hit by the looks of it.
- Why the syndicate? - The Russos probably figured...
that Edmonds swallowed some heavy receipts.
It happens all the time when bookies get panicked. Oh, Gordy.
It's happened to me a couple of times. It tastes awful.
Now, maybe they dug him up, took him to the barn for some exploratory surgery.
After the autopsy? That doesn't make any sense, Gordy.
No. But there's been a lot of flak in the past few months...
between the black numbers operators and the syndicate,
according to my usually reliable sources.
Black numbers operators?
South Side?
I tried placing a numbers bet on the South Side,
but none of the bookies would even touch me.
The few bookies who would talk said that since I was a former Francois Edmonds's customer,
I'd need something called "a lucky number. '"
Finally, I got an address.
Yes? I'm Uncle Filemon.
What you want the houngan do for you?
I'd like- I'd like a lucky- a lucky number.
A lucky number costs $11 in advance.
Dollars in advance- You wouldn't be related to, uh- No, no, of course not.
Now, what you dream last night? I beg your pardon?
Come on, mon. Tell me what you dream.
So I can pour in these bones and the corn and figure out the number.
Oh, oh! I see. Yeah, I see. Yeah.
Well, I- I had a dream last night about a friend of mine.
Uh, Francois "Edmond. "
This must have been very, very bad dream. Your friend is dead.
Yeah, I-
Oh. What do you use those for?
Dinner.
Delicious with black beans and rice. Oh, yes.
Uh-
- Hey, you don't got your number! - My, aren't these, uh,
dolls interesting, aren't they?
You go right on ahead and wait on these gentlemen here.
I'm just, uh, browsing, that's all.
Now-Now-Now- Now, wait- We're getting a little tangled up here, fellas. If you could just-
Okay. Now, can I have my-
You know who I am, Mr. Kolchak?
Bernard "Sweetstick" Weldon.
You once described me in an article as being...
"the duke of the South Side numbers fiefdom...
and all-around civic headache. "
You remember now? No, that-
Y - You know, that's a mistake. No, that's my brother, uh, Marshall Kolchak.
Yeah, he's the one with the big mouth.
Poppy and some of the other boys say you been tryin' to place a numbers bet all day,
but they say you're more interested in names than numbers.
Like Francois Edmonds.
Public don't wanna read about a young man cut down in his prime.
Well, yes, I couldn't agree with you more actually.
That's exactly what I told my editor. I didn't wanna come here...
and pry around.
I mean, he's dead, isn't he? I mean, Francois is-
- is dead. - He's dead.
And the story's dead.
Understand?
Uh, yeah. I think I see your point.
Could I ask you just one question?
Uh, did you know the deceased personally?
Poppy, you're gonna have to blow the wax out of this man's ears.
He don't understand when people talkin' to him. No, no, no.
I understand. I really don't-
I may understand-
Bad as my problems were at that moment,
they were nothing compared to those of Mr. Albert Berg.
When news of Al Berg's death hit the streets, a summit meeting was called...
between the big powers and the numbers operation.
That's when I decided to pay a visit to the Monk.
The Monk was of a lower order. He had never taken the vows of poverty or silence.
That high up, huh?
Yeah. Well, do you happen to know where the meeting would be?
You mean, the Midtown Garage needs repainting again, huh?
Yeah. Well, here you go.
Go buy yourself a new pair of sandals, will you?
The Midtown Garage - a week before, it had been closed for renovations,
a week before that for rewiring and before that reroofing and new plumbing.
It was amazing to me that despite these constant improvements...
by the owner, Benjamin Sposato,
none of its original, quaint charm had been lost.
At 8:21, the great purple bird arrived.
Ain't you got no air-conditioning down here? This place stinks.
Why don't you make it fast? I got to be at my granddaughter's ballet recital by 9:00.
- You think some of my boys been rippin' off some of yours? - That's right, Licorice Stick.
Sweetstick. Whatever.
Seems some of my friends have been coming down with back problems.
My organization had nothing to do with Willie Pike being wasted or the Russo brothers.
How about my brother-in-law Al Berg? You know, Al and I were very close.
In fact, my sister's still under the doctor's care.
You want a war, Mr. S? Is that what you want?
Hey, I'm not the one that's goin' around killin' people- bending them in half.
Jerry here was at that countinghouse when that guy walked in. He was a coconut.
One of these days, Mr. S., some coconuts are gonna fall on your head.
And it's gonna hurt.
Well, let me tell you what's gonna happen. Number one,
one more of my people gets knocked off, there's gonna be coconut milk all over this place.
Number two, I want reparations for the Russo brothers,
for Willie Pike, for my brother-in-law!
A quarter of all your numbers operation for the next fiscal year.
Junk, you keep. I don't wanna bother with that stuff.
- A quarter? - That's right.
I wouldn't bet my granddaughter's ballet slippers on that...
if I was you, Mr. S.
Okay. Okay.
I, uh - I'm comin' right with you. It's okay.
It's, uh- D-D-Don't- Don't get nervous, okay? Okay?
It's Kolchak.
- What's a Kolchak? - He's a reporter.
Th-That's right, Mr. Sposato, a reporter, I.N.S.
- What's an I.N. S? - Independent News Service, sir. Founded in 1904 by Enrico Paluzzi.
L- I think-Well, I'm sure that you must've met my managing editor,
Antonio Vincenzo-
At a meeting of the Sons of Garibaldi? This place stinks.
Make it fast. I got to be at my granddaughter's ballet recital-
I suppose you're wondering what I'm- I'm doing here.
- Well, uh, I think, Mr. "Spinoza"- - Sposato.
Sposato. Of course, sir.
I remember you. Vittorio, this is the guy that crashed my daughter Barbara's wedding, remember?
He took all those pictures.
- You- He's right. - No! No!
No, there's been a horrible mistake.
You see, you're thinking of my brother Sidney Kolchak. He writes a society column.
I remember the two-dollar hat, Kolchak.
I got a memory like a steel trap. I never forget anything. Ask Victor.
That's right. Photographic. Mr. Kolchak.
- You ever been to Mercy General Hospital? - No. No, I never have.
They got a great gastrointestinal man, one of the best in the Midwest.
Doctore Rosetti.
- Oh. - Vittorio, why don't you make an appointment for Mr. Kolchak...
with Dr. Rosetti?
No! No, no, no. Wait! Wait!
Wait! L-I-I-I can tell you who's been knocking your men off!
L - I know! I can give you a name. What?
He's a Haitian numbers runner by the name of Francois Edmonds. Why?
I don't know! How would I know why?
Gee, maybe he got, uh- Maybe he got in Willie Pike's hair?
Pike sent him through the system. He got knocked off by the Russo brothers.
I don't know. Maybe?
- Santa Lucia. - He's right.
Well, Mr. Kolchak, you're partially correct.
You see, that guy now lays in, uh, St. Lucy's Cemetery.
- But it was a very nice try. - No, that's where they keep putting him.
But I'll bet my life- and I'm not saying that loosely, gentlemen-
I will bet my life...
that he is not... there... now.
Come on! Keep digging!
Hey! You guys scabs?
Night work is against the bylaws of the Funerary Workers Association.
All right. Come on. Open it, will ya?
What kind of people are these people?
Your theory is that anybody connected with this guy's death...
is... gonna die.
Yeah, that's right. By having their spinal cords crushed.
Hey, Victor-
you gave the okay on this thing, didn't you?
Yeah, but I asked you first.
I told you Willie Pike wanted it done. You said go ahead. Remember?
I don't remember that. Victor, you never-
- You never asked me about this! - Sure, I did. It was rainin'.
You were complaining about the guy who did the job on the roof. 'Cause it leaked.
You had this expensive pot. It was leakin'in the pot.
You were teed off that day anyway. And when I told you about Edmonds,
you said go ahead, waste him.
- I remember. - I don't remember that, Victor.
- That never happened. - You gotta remember.
- I said I don't remember! - You-
Hey-
It's him. It's that guy.
Do somethin'! Stop him!
Come in!
What'd he do? Please don't tell me the details. Just what did he do?
Grave desecration, one count.
Oh! Mamma mia!
Suspected theft of corpse.
And that involves several health law violations.
The most serious problem is a homicide.
We found Kolchak an arm's length away from a fresh corpse,
Victor Friese.
What did you do to the guy? Pester him to death?
Kolchak, what's going on?
Talk. Say something sensible!
He'll put me in jail for a year if I open my mouth.
Tell him.
I saw Victor Friese get his back snapped. I heard it crunch.
And the man that did it was dead. Dead!
And had been dead for over two weeks.
Well, I envy him. At least he's getting some sleep!
How do you know that this individual was dead, Kolchak? Did you smell formaldehyde on his breath?
He wasn't breathing!
You were there. We both saw him put into his grave.
We saw the casket lowered into the grave. We didn't see if Edmonds was in it.
Now, we think the body was exhumed by some cult.
However, I didn't want to speculate as to the purpose.
After all, these are Haitians. They're people from a foreign country.
Yeah, that's right. Especially Francois Edmonds. He, sir, is from hell itself!
And how is this stiff walking, Kolchak? How is he doing it?
Who's pulling the strings?
I don't know exactly, but I've been doing some research.
It's voodoo. Francois Edmonds has been turned into a zombie.
Now, the process that activates him has something to do with chicken blood and corn kernels.
Get him out of here.
Enough for one night, Carl. Let's get outta here. Enough!
August 20, 2:00 a. m. Another trip to the Monk.
Immigration listed no known relatives for Francois Edmonds.
But the Monk had his own listings. They included one MarieJuliette Edmonds.
Also known as Mama Lois or- Mamalois.
Mornin', gents. How ya doin'?
Come in, Mr. Kolchak.
You have rum with lonely ol' woman?
Mm-hmm. Light or dark?
Well, uh, dark, light- It's all right- Mrs. Edmonds.
Calm yourself, Mr. Kolchak. You are where you wanted to be.
Oh, I am.
Mon bebe, Francois. Uh, yeah.
He is dead.
But not buried.
I mean, his body is missing from its grave, madam.
I could not go to my grandson's burial or Immigration catch me sure.
Two young fellows dig up mon bebe for me so we can burn his poor body.
That is custom in my family.
Mm-hmm. Where did you burn it?
That is personal matter.
Do not be rude, sonny.
Yeah, well, I saw your grandson last night. He didn't look good, but he didn't look burned.
He looked to me like one of the living dead, a zombie.
Oh, you go to le cinema too much, sonny.
Mm. I do not...
where you get these crazy idea or why you come here to tell me this.
Well, for one thing, I'd like to know, uh,
how you knew I was coming to this house before I even got to the door.
And also, why do people call you Mama Lois?
- What you think that mean? - Well, I've heard about a man called a Papa Lois.
A bokor, I think. A practitioner of voodoo.
They call me Mamalois because I can make little medicines...
to cure little sicknesses.
You have any little sicknesses?
Sometimes my back hurts when I hear certain stories.
Ah.
I give you little medicine.
Drink some this. Your back don't hurt no more.
Uh- You afraid?
You already drink the rum, sonny.
The white rum.
Uh, thank you very much.
You're crazy, sonny.
My stomach had taken a lot of punishment in the last two days.
I figured the real gut-slammer was about to come.
A minute or so passed, and I felt no ill effects. I just felt stupid.
Kolchak. Kolchak. Kolchak.
Carl - Not now. I'm writing an article.
Kolchak, my people on the street tell me you're making...
a lot of noise about your big zombie story being in the works.
I just told Mr. Vincenzo that's not responsible journalism. Responsible journalism.
Yeah, I know. I know.
Okay, Mr. Vincenzo,
I guess we're gonna have to go over this place...
with a fine-tooth comb.
What do you mean, Captain?
Well, this place- it's old.
Lot of fire laws being violated here.
Where? What's the matter? Look. Exposed wires.
That's only one wire. Look here. Look here.
Papers next to a hot plate. Well, I can get - Oh!
Get that out of there. What about your fire stairwells?
You haven't got books and boxes stacked out there, have you?
Kolchak, will you stop that typing?
Don't be afraid of this blowhard.
I think I can get Fire Chief Langsdorf down here right now.
Now, wait a second. Wait a second, Captain. Let's not be too hasty.
Yeah, let's just wait a couple seconds.
Know what this is? See this?
This is a voodoo shrine.
Now, it's from a shrine just like this...
that Francois Edmonds, dead man, rotting cadaver and zombie...
receives his instructions to kill.
Now, his victims that he has to kill...
are picked out by having their names written in blood...
by a papalois, a mamalois, a Mama Lois, whatever.
Carl - Yeah, yeah. That's right.
You oughta commit this to memory. You oughta really bone up on this, Captain.
Especially the part on how to kill a zombie.
What's the matter? You can't read? Well, I'll tell you how.
You instruct all of your men that go out looking for this zombie...
to look in places of the dead-
in graveyards, in cemeteries, in mortuaries or whatever.
Each one of them has to be equipped with the following items-
white candles, matches, salt...
and needle and thread.
Now, after you catch the zombie,
you pour the salt into his mouth.
Then with the needle and thread,
you sew the lips...
very tightly together.
What do you do with it then, Kolchak?
Cook the guy? Baste him with butter?
No, you light the candles around him.
So far, this zombie has only killed people who were connected to his murder.
That's why its so important, Captain, for you to find out how to kill him.
And what's that crack supposed to mean?
You see that little knickknack there, Captain? That is your coffin.
And spelled in blood, chicken blood, on the top of it, is your name, Winwood.
W- I-N-W-O-O-D.
What it really spells, Captain, is not only are you a crooked cop, you're also a murderous one.
How long have you been on Sposato's payroll, huh? You're pathetic!
I can explain all this. Carl's been under an awful lot of pressure lately. I'm probably to blame for that.
Were you paid to participate in Edmonds's murder or just to look the other way?
And this is all the evidence you got? My name written in nail polish on a shoe box?
That's chicken blood. And that is your coffin.
And if you don't want your back splintered like an orange crate, you better listen to me.
All right. What about you? I see that your name's written here too.
Now what's your connection with the murder?
Well, I ask a lot of questions. Seems like nobody likes that - cops, voodooists or politicians.
Wouldn't you agree, Captain? Well, in that case, since we all agree,
we ought to be able to settle our differences.
I want that zombie story killed or you're gonna be hearing from Chief Langsdorf.
L- I meant to tell you- I'm comin'!
Sewing the zombie's lips shut only works if the zombie is dormant.
If he isn't-
Then you'd better have some white candles with you to burn while you try to strangle him.
And be very, very, very careful lighting those candles. You know why?
So you won't violate any fire laws, ya dumb-
Kolchak! Listen, Kolchak,
I gotta do something about little Monique in there.
Where do you think you're goin'? Out.
We have some talking to do. Yeah.
But Laurel Pirette happens to be singing at Zachary's in the alley for the dinner show.
So what? So Laurel Pirette happens to be Sposato's newest girlfriend.
And that's where Sposato's going to be...
and that's where the zombie's gonna be. And that's where I'm gonna be.
Wait for me! No!
I'm comin'! Get back! Get back!
I'm ready for anything!
I didn't give the order, Mr. Edmonds. I swear!
I don't remember anything about it. Gino!
Gino! Gino! Gino, help me ple-
Cab! Hey!
Take her to Brooklyn. New York!
Hey, wait! Wait!
Hey! Wait!
Ugh-
Eww.
Kolchak. Kolchak.
With my camera in pieces,
Captain Winwood's story of innocence was intact.
He never stood trial for murder. My proof was gone.
But that doesn't mean my story was false. Quite the contrary.
Where's Monique? Her uncle's on the phone worried sick.
- She's in a cab on the way to Brooklyn. - She's in a cab on the way to Brooklyn.
What?
What did you say?
You're delighted?
You didn't what her here in the first place?
But why? Why?
I mean, why?
Item- Mamalois Edmonds was deported to her native country...
only one day after the events of thejunkyard.
Item- Captain Leo Winwood was relieved of duty for...
"reasons ofhealth. '"
Item- Francois Edmonds, the deceased,
was buried a third time at public expense.
A third time. However, this time...
rock salt was poured in his mouth, and his lips were sewn shut.
City officials will deny this,
but you can see it for yourself, if-
if-you'd care to venture out to St. Lucy's Cemetery...
and exhume the corpse.
Be my guest.
If you've got the nerve.