Sometimes when I'm quantum leaping, I have really good days.
Days when I win the race,
stop the bad guy...
and kiss the girl.
And then there are the bad days.
Oh, boy.
Uh, this... this is not what it looks like.
Uh, he was dead when I got here?
Mm-hmm. Anybody besides you and him to corroborate that?
I don't know. Then you're gonna miss the Dodger opener, Nick.
I'm still in L.A.
"L.A." Yeah, sure. And, uh, Ebbets Field is in Hollywood. Call the coroner.
What are you gonna do, try the insanity plea?
Tales can come true
It could happen to you
It was 1953.
The Dodgers were still in Brooklyn, and I was a private detective named Nick Allen.
The dead man on the floor was my partner, Phil Grimsley.
And if that wasn't enough to cause chills,
there was the image in the mirror.
Play it again, Sam.
Uh, am I Bogie?
No. No, he's on Long Island with Audrey Hepburn making "Sabrina".
But the resemblance is amazing.
That might be why Nick became a gumshoe.
Gumshoe?
Shamus, tec, dick.
You don't know the lingo.
I don't remember.
What kind of peep are you gonna make?
At least I remember him.
Here's lookin' at you, kid.
If you're through playing, can we get down to business?
Yeah. I'm sorry. Um, what am I here to do?
Find the killer probably.
Then I didn't do it! Uh, Nick didn't do it.
Uh, Ziggy says it's 4-to-1 against.
Your partner Phil was into seedy divorce cases,
so he was probably of fed by someone...
he snapshot in a compromising position or two.
Who? Well, there's no data on that.
You're the shamus. You figure it out.
I'm not the shamus.
Oh, you know.
You dirty rat.
You dirty, rotten rat. No, Sam.
You killed my brother... S-Sam!
That's Cagney, not Bogart.
Yeah. Uh, right.
Yeah, well, I gotta go. Tina's got this friend.
Al, don't tell me you're cheating on Tina with her friend.
A friend that knows a guy who's got a kid that works for a trainer,
who happens to have a sure thing in the fourth race at Santa Anita.
Now don't you feel bad about jumping to conclusions?
No, I don't feel bad.
Al, I'm in jail for a murder I didn't commit in the decade that I was born.
All you care about is getting to...
What? What?
- I'm gonna be set free. - By whom?
You!
You, you I'm in love with you Al, don't ask me how I know this,
but any second, a bald detective with a cigar is gonna come walking through...
That door and tell me that the bullet that Grimsley took...
didn't come from my gun.
You're outta here, Nick. Ballistics said the slugs Grimsley stopped...
didn't match your gun.
- Déjà vu. - I don't think so.
Fine, stay here for all I care.
Uh, no. That's not what I meant. I wanna get out. Really.
Well, if you're outta here, I'll see you later.
Al, I...
You've been hit in the head too many times with a sap, Nick.
In a funny way, that detective might have been right.
Maybe leaping from one year to another had done more than Swiss cheese my brain,
because the feeling of déjà vu had just struck again.
Someone in publishing named Seymour was about to speak to me.
- Seymour? - Bogie.
Oh, uh, no, ma'am.
He's in Long Island with Audrey Hepburn and William Holden.
Nick!
I knew them all.
The older guy was Lionel, the building superintendent.
The elevator operator was Chuck, and Seymour was the boy behind the news stand.
I guess you could consider that being in publishing.
Sorry about Phil, Nick. You okay?
I can't believe Phil's gone. Seems like yesterday that I was taking him up and down.
It was yesterday.
How'd Allison take it?
How bad could she take it? A body like that doesn't marry a guy like Phil for love.
Any idea who killed him?
Word on the street is he was fogged by a dropper called Klapper.
A dropper called Klapper?
Why would a dropper be after Phil? Are you kidding?
I bet Phil and Nick put a dozen Hard Harry's in the slammer.
Any one of them could have paid a dropper to fog him. Right, Nick?
Well, I-I hope not.
- I don't like tenants with hit men after them. - No, no, neither do I.
What are you gonna do, let the cops handle it?
Are you kidding? The man's partner buys it, he doesn't stop until he nails the dropper.
Like Tommy Trueblood. Tommy's partner was found in the Pacific, sucking kelp.
Tommy had to take on the cops, the mob,
and bad criminal elements, but he got the dropper.
And that's what you're gonna do, right, Nick?
Well, I-I don't know. But not here.
I don't want any shooting around here.
It frightens the tenants.
Well, I'll, uh, I'll try not to get shot...
here.
Something wrong?
You never paid me for a paper before.
Well, it's about time I started.
What's the record? Twelve minutes and eight seconds.
It didn't take that long.
I got a buck says he can't fix it quicker.
Make that two. You want a piece of this, Nick?
Gee, thanks, Nick.
You're welcome.
Thanks.
Uh, Nick. I, uh, I got these tickets to the Dodger game tomorrow, and, um...
Oh, uh, thanks, Chuck, but I don't think I'll be able to make it.
Oh, I didn't mean you.
I was wondering if maybe you could ask Allison if she wanted to go.
You know, to take her mind off Phil's dying.
Yeah, right. It's too soon.
It's a bad idea.
I was still trying to figure out how anyone could be as tasteless as Chuck...
when the déjà vu feeling hit me again.
Someone was in my office.
Someone... dangerous.
Boy, was I right.
Oh, Nick, it's so horrible.
When I found out the police thought you killed Phil...
Allison. I was so afraid they'd find out about us.
Oh, boy. I mean, it would be motive...
for you to kill Phil.
Wouldn't it?
Uh, yeah.
But you didn't.
No.
Oh, Nick, I'm so glad.
I don't know if I could love a man who killed my husband.
But if you didn't do it, who did?
Phil ever mention someone called Klapper?
The dropper?
You know him? No.
One night in bed... Uh, you know we slept in twin beds.
Uh-huh. Yeah.
Well, one night Phil was having this nightmare,
mumbling something about a dropper named Klapper.
Is he the murderer?
Could be. Oh, Nick, I'm so scared.
I can't go back to my apartment. I just can't.
Don't you have somewhere else to stay?
Well, what about your place?
My place?
Well, I-I know it's a little sudden,
maybe in bad taste,
but Phillip's dead.
And we've been waiting so long.
Waiting? You mean, we never...
No, of course we never. Phil... Phillip was your husband.
And your partner. Yeah.
And a man can't...
With his partner's wife.
Until his partner... is gone.
Thank you.
"I found Phil emptying a bottle...
"with a hand shakier than a grass skirt on Waikiki.
"He looked like a cat working on his ninth life...
ever since he heard a dropper named Klapper was looking for him."
It's not déjà vu.
I read this book.
"She was a flamer.
A redhead who could make Father Flanagan forget Boys Town."
My first wife was just like that.
Al. Look, I read this book, Nick's writing.
That's why I know everything. It's not déjà vu.
Another illusion shattered forever.
Nick and Allison loved each other,
but they were too loyal to Phil to do anything about it.
Listen to this.
"The heat between us was like a six-day jaunt in the Sahara,
but our ties to Phil were as tight as the drunk on the corner stool."
- Not exactly Faulkner. - Yeah, you can say that again.
I think I'm here to find Phil's killer, so that Allison and I can live happily ever after.
Sam, don't you mean Allison and Nick?
Well, yeah, sure.
Sam, you know, Allison could be the killer.
No. No?
- No. - No? Why do you say no?
Because "her body could part the Red Army"?
No, because... we've got Klapper.
Careful, Sam. There was no cure for that in 1953.
Al, Klapper is the dropper who shot Phil. At least that's the rumor.
Yeah, but people hire droppers. It wasn't Allison.
But whoever it was is probably here in Nick's book.
So, if you could just find me... "Dead Men Don't Die".
Uh, I doubt that it was published under that title.
Check under Nick Allen.
Maybe he used a nom de plume. I would.
Just have Ziggy do it, okay? That's what computers are for.
Just find me the rest of this book, because for the life of me, I can't remember how it ended.
Well, it wasn't with Allison and Nick living happily ever after.
You read it? No. But if it ended like that,
why would you be here... so they could live unhappily ever after?
Maybe Al's right.
Maybe Nick and Allison didn't end up together.
But that was then,
and this is now.
And I'm here to see that they do.
And to do that, I've gotta find Phil's killer.
Must be Phil's...
Hey, Nick, I got a lead on the Klapper.
He's gonna be at the Blue Island tonight.
I read about the Blue... Phil told me about the Blue Island.
I got tipped by a kid I was in the orphanage with who works there,
but he couldn't or wouldn't give me a face.
How are we gonna know what he looks like?
Same way Tommy Trueblood did in The Lipstick Murders.
Pose as a couple of mafioso who want to offer him a contract. You got your roscoe?
- Roscoe? - Your piece, gat, shooter.
My gun? Uh, no, the police have it.
That's okay. We always got our dukes. Ain't that right, Nick?
Yeah, that we got. Seymour!
Seymour, what...
This can't happen. The doors won't open unless the elevator's there.
They can if the safety latch is broken.
Broken? It happens.
This is your fault. Mine?
I told you this elevator was old and needed replacing.
Klapper did it.
I don't think so, Seymour. Klapper's a pro, and pros rarely miss.
Anyway, how could he be sure I'd use the elevator next, or walk blindly into it?
That was my fault. I distracted you. I'm always getting in the way.
Look, Seymour, it's not your fault. I should have looked first.
I've caused accidents since I was born, probably before.
Maybe that's why my folks dumped me.
Seymour, you were abandoned?
Left on a stoop in the Village.
I grew up in the East End Orphanage, mostly in the library.
Hey, there's nothing wrong with liking to read.
I slept there.
Only place nobody would bother me.
If I could just be like you.
What, a two-bit detective who deals in divorce cases?
Don't say that. You're Nick Allen. You're the best.
That's what I always said.
Oh, boy.
Something wrong?
Sorry, I just never saw a widow look like you.
Can I help it if I look good in black?
Besides, I hadn't planned on dressing tonight.
- Nick, we gotta go. - Go?
We got a lead at the Blue Island.
Nick, you can't go there. Why not?
God, Nick, that's where Phillip went the night he was killed.
Why didn't you tell me?
You went with him.
Of course I did.
- Nick, what's wrong? - He's a little shook.
He nearly fell down the elevator shaft.
- What? - It was my fault.
It was not your fault. It was an accident.
Whoever killed Phillip is after you, isn't he?
- Well... - Klapper's a pro.
He knows the code, and Nick won't stop tracking his crushers till they're pushing daisies.
Nick, please don't go to the Blue Island.
Well, I have to, Allison. You want me to find Phillip's killer, don't you?
I had two theories as to why Allison insisted on coming to the Blue Island.
One, she had hired Klapper to kill Phil...
and wanted to be sure that I didn't find him.
Two, she really loved me... uh, Nick...
and was frightened for his safety.
I really should be frightened, but I feel so safe in your arms.
Guess which one I believed?
You spotted him? Who?
Klapper. No, no.
Just thought I recognized an old client. You know, messy divorce case.
Thank God I didn't have to go through that.
Oh, I didn't mean that the way it sounded, Nick. I swear.
I'm...
You do see him!
Klapper's in the band, isn't he?
How can I spot someone if I don't even know what he looks like?
- He may look like a she. - What?
My buddy just told me the word on the street is that Klapper's a woman.
I think I'll go get us some fresh drinks.
- Oh, I'll get 'em, Nick. - That's all right.
- You stay here and keep Allison company. - Sure!
You ever read Tommy Trueblood?
Oh, Sam, wow.
Allison is a killer.
Nick wrote that? Nick? Oh, the book.
No, no, I'm talking about her body... deadly.
Oh, Al. She reminds me of this redhead in billing.
Al, so help me, if you start with one of your sleazy sex stories,
hologram or no hologram, I'll slug ya.
- Sleazy? - Sleazy.
Well, Sam, you know there's sleaze and there's sleaze, please.
Who killed Phil? I don't know.
What do you mean? You got the book. I saw you.
Yeah, but, you know, it's an unfinished mystery.
It's one of those contest books they had in the '50s.
You figure out who did the murder and if the cops can prove it, then you win 10 grand.
Al, it says, "Who Killed Grimsley and Allen?"
Yeah, I-I thought you'd notice that last part.
This pin jabber tried to fog him with a stick of nitro,
but Tommy smelled the blow, and creased the horse rider with an ounce of lead.
Really. That was nothing compared to the time...
Tommy ran afoul on Hound Dog Harry.
He was tracking this dropper who creased a wheelchair rider from Queens.
Two martinis, extra dry and a Shirley Temple... three dollars.
Three dollars? What a rip-off.
It's 1953. Any downtown bar would charge you a buck and a quarter, tops.
- How did I, uh, die? - Back-stopped an ounce of lead.
- Klapper? - Probably. But nobody ever collected on it.
Who did the readers suspect?
Everybody, from Joseph Stalin to Colonel Mustard.
But most of the folks voted for your paramour, the Red Widow.
- But they didn't prove it. - Well, they couldn't...
because Allison and Seymour disappeared on the night of Nick's murder,
which, by the way, is tonight.
Allison and Seymour?
Rumor has it that they flew off to Rio together.
- Cigars. Cigarettes. - I can't believe that.
Hi, Nick.
It does kind of stretch the imagination, doesn't it?
But, you know, some women have kinky taste in men. Thank you.
Thank God. Al.
Maybe Klapper killed them and then hid the bodies.
No, your partner Phil, his body was found in the office.
And your... uh, Nick's body... was found at La Guardia.
So, if they were left where they were dropped, why hide Allison and Seymour?
I don't know, Al. It just seems like...
the most logical explanation.
Well, the more logical one is that Allison is Klapper.
If you wanna have safe sex with her, you'd better wear a bulletproof vest.
- Al, come on. - Oh, well, maybe I'm wrong.
But with a body like that, how could she be interested in Seymour,
no matter how kinky she is?
She must have used him, and then when she got tired of him, she blew him away in Rio.
- Allison didn't blow anyone away. - How do you know?
- Instinct.
Well, my instinct tells me that that broad has got you tied in knots this way, that way...
Your instincts got you married five times, right?
That your Swiss cheese brain remembers.
Well, I wanna tell you something, pal.
You haven't been getting any lately.
Don't compare me to yourself.
I think with my brain, and I don't cloud my judgment with a bottle.
Well, yeah, well, uh, Tina's waiting for me.
Uh, got a hot tip in the eighth.
A "Nostalgia Kills."
That's a funny name, huh, for a filly?
You take my advice, pal.
Don't go near La Guardia. Anyplace but La Guardia.
Why do we hurt people for telling us the truth?
Al was right.
When it came to Allison, I was as blind as a dead bat...
and tighter than a granny knot at a Cub Scout picnic.
My God, I'm thinking like Seymour.
This is for you, Bogie.
Everybody must think Bogie looks like you.
I think that's the other way around, Seymour.
Looks like it's gonna pour. You wait here.
I'll catch us a cab on Madison.
What's wrong?
Look, Allison, um...
Did you love Phil?
What kind of a question is that?
The kind that has to be asked.
I was 16 when I met Phil.
He was in Pittsburgh for a divorce case.
I guess you could say he swept me off my feet.
So you loved him.
I loved the idea of him.
He was older. He was from New York.
To the daughter of a steelworker,
he was very sophisticated.
Guess I was as naive as Seymour, huh?
No, I didn't love him.
I think the only man I ever loved is you.
Where's that cab?
I'll go get one. Hurry.
Nick!
Get back!
Where is he? In the alley.
He's gone.
You're bleeding.
Just a scratch.
Angel.
Sorry it took so long!
Nick, you're creased. Somebody shot at us.
- Klapper? - Gotham Towers.
What took you so long, Seymour?
The canaries were harder to find than a hooker on Sunday morning.
Plenty of canaries...
- Plenty of cabs from what I could see. - When I finally got one,
this Hard Harry with a kisser that could break a mirror in the next apartment...
stepped on my daisy crushers... Stop it!
No one can be as nerdy as you're acting.
Nerdy?
Wimpy, wussy, dopey, goofy.
You don't mean that, Nick. Every word of it.
Look, you've been on me, closer than my underwear,
and it's getting boring. Take it easy, Nick.
He's gotta find out sometime that he's not gonna be Sam Spade, Philip Marlowe or Thomas Magnum.
Magnum? I don't wanna be like those guys.
I just wanna be like you. Me?
Kid.
If I'm lucky, I'm gonna spend the rest of my life leaping around from one place to another...
instead of face down in a pool of blood.
- Don't do this, Nick! - It's done.
From now on, you find some other shamus to pester.
Be right back.
Nick's just tired and hurt. He didn't mean it, Seymour.
I think he did.
Thank you.
I already hurt one friend tonight. I can't hurt two.
Look, Seymour, you...
you're not a nerd or a wuss or a wimp...
or any of the other names that I called you.
You're a neat kid and a good friend.
Thank you.
The kind a guy can count on, which is why I said what I did.
I don't get it.
I'm going after Klapper tonight.
I didn't want you tagging along.
You were afraid I'd get hurt.
Or in the way.
Who is he, Nick? I don't know.
For a while, I thought it was you.
Me? Yeah.
You practically shoved me into the elevator.
And tonight when he tried to fog me, you were flagging a canary.
It could have been me, but it wasn't. Yeah.
No, I realized that in the cab.
It was raining when Klapper shot at me from the alley.
If you were Klapper, you would have been soaked.
But you don't know who he is. I know where he is.
And we're going after him. No.
I'm going after him.
I could be an extra pair of peepers, cover your seat.
Nick, after what you said, you owe it to me.
Okay, kid,
on two conditions. Name 'em.
One: You follow my orders to the letter.
And?
Go get a raincoat so you don't catch pneumonia.
Gotcha!
So long, Seymour.
I thought you'd never get here.
Just missed the cab, huh?
I got it. You laid a Ben Franklin on the cocktail shaker at the Blue Island,
and he opened up like a pencil pusher from Toledo on his third martini.
I gave the bartender at the club $100,
and he started talking like an accountant from Toledo who'd had one too many?
- That's what I said. - Oh, God, I understood you.
- Am I right? - No.
Then how do you know Klapper's taking Allison to La Guardia?
- And not vice versa. - Al.
Al? Who's Al?
A... A friend. A real good friend.
Well, let's not get mushy about it.
The one who tipped you to the Klapper.
Well, he tipped me about a lot of things, and I wouldn't listen.
Well, maybe I went a little too far.
I got angry and I said some things that I regret.
He's the other friend you hurt tonight?
What, you jumped on the kid too?
- I'm afraid so. - Aw, Sam.
I'll bet you didn't want him to get hurt either.
Hurt?
Where are we going, Sam?
- La Guardia. - Yeah.
Sam, uh, this is very dangerous.
- Allison's in there somewhere. - That's why it's dangerous.
It's a big bird roost, Nick.
Yeah. All right, you take that end, I'll take this one, and I'll meet you in the middle.
- Gotcha! - Seymour.
Allison may have hired Klapper to kill Phil.
- Thanks. - Nick, you can't think that.
- Well, no, but, - Oh, Sam.
As long as there's a possibility,
if you eyeball my main squeeze,
Peeping Tom her until you can semaphore me.
"Main squeeze"?
Allison.
"Main squeeze." I gotta remember that one.
What's wrong, Al? I thought you were up on all this private eye lingo.
I understood you. I'm just wondering how in 20 years...
"main squeeze" gets from Seymour to black slang.
I assume you're packing a roscoe.
Yep.
Would you use it on Allison if you had to?
Probably not.
Great.
Where you going? I'm going to check the ladies' room.
- Al! - Somebody's gotta do it.
Bogie! Don't point, Allen. It's not polite.
But it's Humphrey Bogart. Mr. Bogart. Mr. Bogart!
- This can't be. - Oh, it is you. I knew it!
- Allen, leave the poor man alone. - I've seen all your movies.
Ever since I could curl my lip, I wanted to be like you. I even dream you talk to me.
You know, give me advice, like how to get Annie up to my bedroom.
Lionel, gee, what are you doing here?
Move.
My analyst calls it neurotic. Of course it's neurotic.
If he lived with my mother, he'd be neurotic too.
She drives me bananas.
Excuse me.
- See what you did? - I just wanted his autograph.
You want an autograph? Here's an autograph.
Lionel, let him go.
We don't wanna hurt him, Nick.
All Allison and I want is out of New York.
Nick won't let... Nick, you have to face reality.
She doesn't love you any more than she loved Phil.
- Is that why you killed him? - He wouldn't face the truth.
We had no choice. But you're smarter, Nick.
Always were!
Where's Allison?
Seymour's dying, Nick!
What's it gonna be?
How many shots was that now that he fired so far?
- Get down, Al! - Why?
He can't see me or hear me.
You stay down. I'll go find him for you.
Al.
There you are, you sneaky devil.
He's right over here, Sam.
You couldn't hit an elephant in a tunnel.
Boy, are you in for a big surprise.
Sam, he doesn't know where you are.
He's gonna shoot, now duck!
Sam, go to the back of the hangar, and then make your way toward me.
Don't you ever clean your mustache? You got gunk in there. It's yucky.
Gonna shoot again!
Ah! Now, Sam!
He's out of bullets. He's loading up. Get over here. Hurry Up!
Sam, hurry! Where the hell are you, Sam?
Don't even think about it, you mug.
Oh, no, Sam. Sam, that's Edward G. Robinson.
How could I have turned Lionel on and not realized it?
You know, the funny part is I kind of feel sorry for him.
Yeah, me too.
Nick, take me away from this.
My apartment?
Actually, I was thinking of someplace a little farther.
Where'd you get those?
Well, I know some people might think it's a little bizarre,
but the poor soul did pay for them.
Where are they to?
Does it matter?
You, uh, you wanna board, Angel?
I'll join you in a minute.
Don't make me wait too long.
It's a sleeper flight.
I don't think you can take that plane.
Oh, Al. I'm gonna get on that plane,
'cause if I don't, I'm gonna regret it for the rest of my life.
Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but...
No, no, I've seen the picture, Sam.
Oh, well, good. Then you know how it ends.
- Sam. - What?
I didn't say you didn't want to go with her. I said I didn't think you could.
- Who's gonna stop me? - Nick!
He tried to kill me, to choke me to death.
Don't you mean the loony tune tried to fog me with a chicken throttle?
Nick, this was for real.
Isn't that what you're looking for, Seymour?
A chance to duke it out with the Hard Harry's...
on a night as quiet as the city morgue on a slow day.
Maybe it would be more fun to just read about it.
Yeah, or write about it.
Me? Become a writer?
Yeah, why not? With your imagination...
and flair for similes, how could you miss?
Nick?
Hurry.
Oh, boy.
The fog was as thick as hash house oatmeal...
and twice as cold, as her hips said good-bye.
Maybe she was too much moonlight and orchids for me,
but I couldn't help wishing that my daisy crunchers and hers...
could be outside the same hotel room door.
You were here to launch a new pulp novelist.
No. No, no, no.
Sam, I think... Don't say it, Al.
This is the start of a wonderful friendship.
You couldn't resist, could you?
You'd better hurry. You'll be late for your new job,
Miss Youngest Executive Secretary at the company.
"Miss"?