We'd like to see Mr. Dodd, please.
I'm sorry, Mr. Dodd sees no one this late at night.
Well, can we see Mrs. Dodd at least?
Jim, listen.
Is that Mr. Dodd playing?
If you don't mind me pointing it out,
that's none of your business.
The question is important. Answer it.
Well, if you must know, yes.
Then you open this door, and you open it right away.
Courtney! Brendan! You men get outta here.
Go, Jim. Stop him.
How dare you, whoever you are.
Your husband's life's in danger. Where is he?
Leave at once.
Griffin! Griffin!
Hold it.
Is it really that bad?
You make one move and I'll shoot.
That piano could be a great source of danger to you.
You sound like a typical half-baked critic.
This piano a source of danger? Hm.
It happens to be a Defeasy concert grand, worth-
Curtis. Curtis, are you all right?
God! Aah!
I can't help but feel that if I-
If I'd helped rather than hindered
Mr. West and Mr. Gordon,
my husband might still be alive.
Now, now, Mrs. Dodd, nobody in the world
could have known what was in the cards.
Thank you, colonel,
and thank you, gentlemen.
Now if there's nothing else...
Nothing else, ma'am,
except speaking for the whole department,
we share in your feelings of loss.
Thank you.
It never gets any easier,
and I'll tell you,
I'd rather take on a pack of screaming Comanches any day
than one of these mad-dog killers.
Mm.
No word from Washington yet, colonel?
No, except that President Grant said-
And this is putting it real mild.
-he said he keenly felt the passing of Curtis Dodd.
And, of course, the capital newspapers
are whooping up the whole thing
as another one of the alphabet killings.
Oh, yeah.
Well, let's give this here
casualty list another goin' over.
Audley, John W.,
New York, shipping and securities.
Batling, Myron J., Oklahoma, oil.
Candlish, Otto M., Oregon, timber.
And of course, uh...
I know. D stands for Dodd, Curtis,
Wichita, wheat.
Tell me something. Hm?
How'd you two reckon that yesterday was the day
that Dodd was in line to get his?
Well, it was just an educated guess, colonel.
Yesterday was Easter.
What in sam hill's that got to do with it?
That's another angle we uncovered
about the alphabet murders.
They always attended the victims on holidays.
Yeah, well, just don't forget this.
There's one other thing
that all the victims had in common.
I know, sir. They're all wealthy.
No, sirree, Gordon. They were extra-wealthy.
And that's just what's got President Grant a-frettin' so.
You see, the way he figures,
that the holdings of a reasonable,
small amount of men
add up to such a big part of our economy
that the course of the country could be jolted clean off-center
if these killings continue.
It sure fits into a pattern, doesn't it?
A, B, C and D.
Gentlemen,
who do you reckon the E victim's gonna be?
Pardon me, colonel.
You wanted me to remind you
about the Senate subcommittee meeting.
Oh, yes, Gates. Much obliged.
Well, gentlemen, looks like
I'm gonna have to pull up stakes.
Uh, a new aide, colonel?
Yep, and I sure do hope you approve of her.
Oh, yeah.
"Mrs. Curtis Langley Dodd wishes to express
"her appreciation to Mr. West and Mr. Gordon
for their sympathy in her recent bereavement."
Nice. Mm.
Artie.
Yeah?
Remember the flowers that we sent to the Candlish funeral,
and the thank you note we got in return?
Yeah. You still have it?
Oh, sure. I think we got it here somewhere.
Here it is.
What are you doing?
Notice the decorative M on both cards.
Complete to the same broken serif.
There's no doubt about it.
This broken type is identical on both cards.
That means they had to be printed in the same print shop.
Isn't that interesting?
Interesting, but it doesn't tell us
who the printer is, does it?
No, not until we get word from the data bureau
on where this card stock came from.
Well, did you hear that?
There's only one place in town that carries that stock.
The Friendly Card Company.
Why don't we pay a friendly visit
to that establishment, Artie?
Indeed.
Jim.
See something interesting?
"Miss Emma Valentine takes pleasure in announcing
"the marriage of Miss Michele Le Master
"to Mr. Paul J. Lambert on Wednesday,
"at 6:00 in the evening.
Reception to follow."
Artie, do you think this could be
the alphabet man's next victim?
Mr. Paul J. Lambert happens to be
one of the richest men in the United States.
Aahh!
Yah!
Argh!
You all right, Artie? Yeah. That was close.
Let's start with the easy questions. Who are you?
And we'll go on to the more advanced ones,
like who do you work for?
Well, I've checked that greeting card shop.
The business directory lists it as being owned
by a Mr. E.N. Itnelav.
Probably Russian for Smith.
And last night's casualty?
Uh, no positive identification of the body yet.
Jim,
you ever hear music when you think of a woman?
Like, um, wedding bells?
More like "The Death March,"
arranged and conducted by Elaine Dodd.
You know, I still think she set up
that bushwhacking job last night.
We don't know that.
It certainly wasn't a total loss.
Oh, Paul Lambert's wedding announcement.
You still think he's the next target, huh?
No, more than that.
Read this.
"Emma Valentine, most charming and original
"of Washington's hostess corps,
"has arrived in our town
"to preside over the surprise wedding of the year.
"Miss Michele Le Master
"will walk the orange blossom-strewn path
"arm in arm with P.J. Lambert,
"the Kansas City's most prominent citizen
and renowned beef baron of the west."
Oh.
That stir your brain, Artie?
It stirs my stomach, that's what it stirs.
The sole piece of evidence that we have
that links these deaths together
is a piece of broken type:
The letter M on some cards.
Now we go to the factory, and what do we find?
On the press, we find Lambert's invitation.
Yeah, all of which is more than slight coincidence,
I would say.
Including the fact that all the dead men
were recently married.
No more than six months,
and all to women much younger than themselves.
That's...interesting, all right.
There's also the fact that Lambert's name
begins with an L.
Causing the killer to set a definite pattern
from A to D,
just to break it at the crucial moment.
Oh, yes.
While we are out busily protecting the E's,
he is out busily killing the L's.
Listen, that's a pretty shrewd plan, you got to admit.
Yeah, it is, Artie.
I think I'll go over to Paul J. Lambert's place
and stop myself a wedding, James.
Well, why not?
I'm going back to the card factory.
I am Enos Itnelav,
printer to the crowned heads of Europe
and the figureheads of Washington,
now operating in Kansas City.
What can I do for you?
A stranger would never suspect
that there was a lot of energetic romping
going on around here last night.
Romping? Here, romping?
Is not possible,
since this establishment is closed for the night.
You must be confusing.
I, uh- I-I suppose so.
You did print up the wedding announcements
for P.J. Lambert, I believe.
Oh, you've seen my work. Ha-ha. Magnificent, huh?
You are interesting, perhaps, in placing order for same?
Uh, may I-? May I look around?
You're more than welcome to, Mr., uh...?
West. James West.
The James West?
of the Secret Service?
The Secret Service in name only seems more like it.
Forgive me for eavesdropping, Mr. West,
but I'm a confirmed compulsive snoop.
I'm Emma Valentine.
But of course.
The most charming and most original
of the Washington hostess corps.
Welcome to Kansas City.
How too, too charming
to discover that such an attractive young man
reads the silly rubbish the papers will print about me.
Enos.
The party favors were simply marvelous.
Be a love and put them in my carriage.
The boys will help you,
while Mr. West and I become the best of friends.
Your slightest wish is my command.
Mr. West, have you ever been discovered?
I didn't know that anyone was looking for me.
Why not?
Yes, why not, indeed.
Of course someone is looking for you, Mr. West.
Those silly dressed-up sheep who come to my parties.
They've come to expect a treat from me
each time they arrive.
Someone new and different,
someone much more exciting than last month's discovery,
and not half as thrilling as next month's discovery.
Ah, must be nerve-racking.
My last successful offering was a grand duke
turned Indian fighter, playwright, hypnotist,
jockey and clothes designer.
Well, uh, how are you gonna follow that?
You. You, Mr. West.
You're not gaudy nor shrill.
You're just too, too wonderfully compelling.
You're a quiet, terribly attractive young man
whose game is, uh,
life and death.
There. I've done it again.
Done what, Miss Valentine?
Mr. West, I won't take no for an answer.
You must join my guests and me this evening.
You know, the Lambert wedding is quite private,
but the reception is the event of the year.
You will come, won't you?
Do I bring my own leash,
or do I pick one up at the door?
Oh, dear, Mr. West,
such a refreshing sense of humor,
along with everything else.
And I will see you at 7?
Lovely.
Miss Valentine.
Now, Mr. West, what can I do for you?
Oh, nothing, thank you.
I got what I came for.
Mr. Lambert...
Will you please believe
that this is not to be taken lightly?
Further note to A.J.:
Have the bond merger papers ready to sign tomorrow.
I want complete reports
on all the Stanley bill debentures,
and tell Drexel that the list of directors
that he submitted me is not acceptable,
and that binds a little bit right in here.
Mr. Paul J. Lambert!
Mr. Lambert, I have been talking to you
for better than half an hour.
You haven't heard one word I've said.
Balderdash. I heard every word you said.
Representative, U.S. Secret Service,
uncovered plot involving wealthy men including me.
My life in danger. Imperative wedding be postponed.
I go into hiding. Correct?
Yeah, correct.
Wrong.
Mr. Lambert, all this marriage will do
is make you a candidate for the killer's list.
Oh? How?
That's been his pattern to date.
Do you want your bride to be a widow
before the orange blossoms are even withered?
All you can get, buy it.
Mr. Lambert...
you have to call off this wedding.
Believe me.
I believe you, Gordon,
primarily because you have no reason to lie to me.
But may I tell you something?
I've been a widower now for 17 years,
and during all that time
I've dreamed of finding a woman
like my first wife.
Finally, I found her.
Then do it for her sake, sir.
You owe it to her.
Yes, I suppose.
I suppose a delay
of several days wouldn't do any harm.
No.
Oh, Paul.
Oh, Paul, I've just seen my dress.
It's absolutely beautiful.
Mwah.
I feel like a fairy-tale princess.
Oh, darling, I'm so excited.
I wish we could just run off and get married now.
Mr. Lambert, if you'd like me to tell her, I-?
Is something wrong?
It's about the wedding, Miss Le Master.
What is it, Paul?
You haven't changed your mind, have you?
You still want to marry me, don't you?
Of course I want to marry you.
Today at 6:00, as per schedule.
Mr. Lambert, if you-
That's final, Gordon.
I'm sorry you can't stay
and have a glass of champagne with us, young fella.
Of course, sir.
Miss Le Masters.
Ah.
Why, that's lovely. Lovely.
Turn.
Yes, I think...
I think the hem should be the merest glance shorter.
Ah.
Oh, come, come, Michele, dear.
Let's have a rush of teeth to the head.
Come on, smile.
Smile.
We can't be unhappy on our wedding day, now can we?
I really don't understand you,
you silly girl.
From a barmaid in a filthy French bistro
to the wife of the wealthiest man in America.
You should be leaping in the air with glad little cries.
Well, at least you should be grateful.
It wasn't easy teaching you how to walk and to dress,
and to speak in just the way calculated to win P.J.
Well.
Well, an uninvited guest.
Ah, he's in the downstairs sunroom.
Ah, but he's restless.
He's in the drawing room.
Oh.
He's moving into the upstairs hallway.
Well, whoever it is
seems to be headed towards the chapel.
Michele, dear, you wait for me here.
I'll change very quickly.
I have to greet our guests.
Do you approve, Mr. West?
A marriage made in heaven.
Too, too clever a theme for the reception,
wouldn't you say?
Particularly with the fallen angels you have around.
What can Mr. West mean, Lenny?
Have you ever wished for a harem, Mr. West?
Your very, very own harem,
with dozens of eager dainty little hands
to reach out to you,
to embrace you,
perhaps even to crush the life out of you?
Have you ever been adored
by your very own harem, Mr. West?
And I should add,
a harem whose dainty little hands
can be adjusted from an adoring embrace
to an embrace that demonstrates
that I want no nonsense from you?
Dear Mr. West,
I regard myself not as a criminal,
but a savior of all womankind.
Interesting.
And what do women have to be saved from?
From domination of the spirit,
economic exploitation,
annihilation of the mind.
In brief, all the injustices wrought by men.
And now, as long as you're not going anywhere,
I'd like you to answer a few questions.
Fair enough.
If you'll answer a few for me.
Oh, I should be delighted.
But mine first.
What, uh-?
What is your favorite wine, Mr. West?
Château Rothschild, 1846.
If you're going to serve me,
please see that it's properly chilled.
My question.
You arranged not only the deaths,
but also the marriages of four men, right?
Ingenious, isn't it?
Heh. It seemed a natural way to go about my task.
After all,
love is the strongest weapon in the world,
and the one so few women have ever used intelligently.
Question.
Which do you prefer:
Blonds, brunettes,
or redheads?
Yes...
all three.
So you married off four beautiful women
to four lonely men, killed off the men,
the women took control of the corporations
and you control the women.
You put it so concisely.
After today, I will control enough strategic wealth
to become a real power in this nation,
enough to make Congress meet my every demand.
Question.
What do you demand in a woman,
intelligence or beauty?
Beauty if they're intelligent,
intelligence if they're beautiful.
And what are your demands?
That this country be temporarily governed
by the monarchy system,
under which I shall reign as queen.
Do you think a woman should know how to cook and sew?
If they intend to be cooks or seamstresses.
You mentioned a temporary monarchy.
Oh, yes.
I should not like to rule forever,
just long enough to secure total independence for women.
Then, after a time, I should release
this country into a democracy
and allow a grateful nation to elect me president.
Ah, Mr. West,
what do you notice first in a woman?
Her lips, her eyes, her hair, her figure.
Not, uh- Not necessarily in that order.
Oh, Mr. West.
Colonel, we've gotta do something.
I know, but-
Well, take this Itne- This printer fella.
I don't see any big clue about him,
except that he printed up the cards
for Dodd and Lambert both.
To return to my rule,
under my scientific reign,
this country will flourish as never before.
Scientific? Yes.
A prosperous country is composed of happy people,
and happy people are made by happy marriages,
and happy marriages...
Happy marriages are made by the love eternal machine.
Here is a picture of your personality, Mr. West.
The sizes and shapes of the hearts
shows your likes and dislikes.
I feed your record into the machine...
and it raises tiny metal fingers,
which react to the message you have written on the paper.
Soon a card like yours
will be on file for every person in the United States,
and only people can marry whose card corresponds.
Ah. Ha-ha-ha.
Dear me, Mr. West.
This poses quite a problem.
On the basis of your answers,
it would seem that your ideal mate
is a combination of Aphrodite, Helen of Troy
and Lola Montez.
Oh, Mr. West,
I'm afraid it can't be done.
Oh, frankly, I like to do my own shopping anyway.
And you adore shopping, don't you, Mr. West?
Because all those fluffy-headed little girls
thrill to the touch of you.
Is that about right?
As if only fluffy-headed little girls
know what it is to be drawn towards a man.
You understand, don't you, Mr. West?
Ah, Mr. West.
If I have a choice, may we go back
to questions and answers?
Whose turn was it, Miss Valentine?
You wanted to see the veils.
Naturally. Naturally.
Michele, meet James West.
You'll have to excuse me for not getting up.
Tell me, Michele,
when did you join the murderous matchmaker here?
Just remember, mercy is not my strong point.
Don't make me lose sight of it completely.
As for this little ball of fluff
you're probably drawn to,
who seems to reduce even the most astute men
to blithering idiots,
this little ball of fluff is a common thief
whom I transformed into a lady.
You did quite a job.
Thank you.
Oh, it seems Mr. Lambert has just arrived.
You will excuse me, won't you?
Michele,
Miss Valentine says you're a thief.
Is that true?
I stole once. I had to.
Don't ask me why.
Do you think that makes you a thief?
That doesn't matter.
Miss Valentine took me from a prison in France.
She could put me back there.
Does Miss Valentine control all her women
through, uh- Through blackmail?
Michele, you're not like Miss Valentine and Elaine.
You get out, before you're an accomplice to murder.
It's too late.
Let me out of this love seat,
and I'll show you it's earlier than you think.
Uh-huh. Huh. Ha.
I told you. I told you, huh?
Look, you see?
The left sleeve is a quarter inch longer than the right.
Well, so is my left arm.
That I can't help you. I'm a tailor, not a doctor.
Oh!
Oh, you look marvelous, P.J. Thank you, ma'am.
Are you ready for the proceedings?
Excuse me, lady. Yeah he looks, not marvelous.
Not with a sleeve that is long enough
to put in a whole family.
Would you be so kind, please? You're standing in my light.
Well, really!
All right, this has gone far enough now.
You're holding up my wedding.
Wedding?
You mean you wanna get married in a- In a sleeve
that's long enough for a gorilla?
Shame on you, shame on you.
That will do.
Aah! Don't move!
Oh!
What a beautiful piece yard goods.
And the dress!
Look at the satin lining.
Oh, that's beautiful.
A regular living doll.
But then, with a figure like yours,
what wouldn't look beautiful?
Oh, this old thing?
Ain't you ashamed for yourself, huh?
A nice lovely young girl like that
and you wanna get married to her in a suit
that's a disgrace to the neighborhood?
That's terrible. I'm not gonna marry her.
I'm not gonna let you, not in that sleeve.
Now take it off.
For the last time, that will do.
I think the sleeve is first-rate.
First-rate? It's not.
It's not first-rate. It's not second-rate.
It's not third-rate. Take it off.
I wouldn't let a gorilla get married in it.
I'm happy with it! It's perfect!
It's paid for.
Now leave me be.
You a tailor? No.
Then who knows better, you or me?
I like the suit! I tell you, I like it!
And I tell you it don't fit,
and before I would let you go out
and make a monkey for yourself in that suit,
I would sooner tear it right off your back.
Oh. I would-
Now I did it. Now you gotta fix it.
There, there, P.J.
Now you run along and slip into another coat
while I talk to this impetuous tailor.
I'll put a pleat in and I'll pick up the rest.
A full quarter of an inch, you hear me?
He thinks he's got-
Gordon is the name,
isn't it?
All right, hold it.
In the name of the United States government,
you are all under arrest.
Oh, gentlemen.
Oh, this must seem unnecessarily complicated,
but I assure you, my plan is quite simple.
And you're going to tell us all about it,
aren't you, Miss Valentine?
Knowing your thirst for knowledge,
of course, Mr. Gordon.
You are fastened
to the top of my stained-glass chapel roof.
You do know that, don't you?
And this overgrown spiderweb. What is this?
The musician who built this house
called this the echo tower.
It's really a sort of resonating chamber.
The wires that actuate the hammers
run all the way down to the piano keyboard
in the chapel.
Which I shall play during the wedding ceremony.
When the proper final chord is struck,
it re-
Oh. Why don't we demonstrate it, Elaine?
Do keep your eyes on the glass goblet, gentlemen,
while Elaine strikes the chord.
You may go now, Elaine.
You do begin to see, don't you, gentlemen?
The particular chord
that will shatter the stained glass under you
is only sounded once,
at the end of the bridal recessional.
Quite a finale for a wedding.
And for poor P.J.
When that one chord is struck,
like a great amen, the glass breaks.
And as the glass goes, so goes the framing.
Precisely,
allowing you to fall a great distance down,
and poor, dear Paul Lambert
is struck by your hurtling bodies.
Well, that should kill
the three of us pretty thoroughly.
And all the kings horses and all the kings men-
Will be unable to put any of you together again.
There is even the possibility
that you may be blamed for Paul J. Lambert's death.
And you, in turn, will gain economic control of your empire.
Queen Emma I.
It has a pleasant ring, hasn't it?
Ah, excuse me, gentlemen,
and thank you so very much for your help.
You know, I don't usually cry at weddings,
but I may make an exception in this case.
Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today
to join this man and this woman
in the bonds of holy matrimony,
which is an honorable estate.
Do you, Michele, take Paul
to be your lawful wedded husband,
and keeping thee only unto him
so long as you both shall live?
I do.
The ring, please.
Thank you.
Join hands, please. Repeat after me.
I, Paul, take thee, Michele...
To be my lawful wedded wife.
And with all my worldly goods...
Artie.
Yeah?
What do you do with one foot free in a situation like this?
I don't know. Play hopscotch?
For as much as Paul and Michele
have consented together in holy wedlock
and have witnessed the same before God...
And thereto have given...
Hold it steady, Jim.
By the power vested in me,
I now pronounce you man and wife.
I think I got it.
Yeah.
Okay.
I'm in good shape.
What about you, Jim?
I'll tell you in a minute, Artie.
Wait a minute. Wait a minute.
We're going to take photographs of the happy bride and groom.
Will you get your equipment, please?
Yes. Now I think we should take individual photos first.
Michele, will you come down here with me?
Yes. Uh, P.J.?
P.J., we'll take yours first.
Now, I think- Oh, yes.
Will you please put it over there?
Will you back up there just a little bit
and turn to your right?
Yes. You have to look at the camera, you know.
Heh-heh. There you are.
Now, that's perfect, P.J.
Well, James, my boy,
get set for a big letdown.
Michele, are you all right?
Mr. West.
Goodbye, Mr. West.
Where'd Miss Valentine go?
Gone. I-I don't know where.
You all right, Michele?
You won't have any trouble having the wedding annulled.
What?
After all the trouble I've had marrying you,
why should I have it annulled?
You- You can't marry a girl
who's been a part of this terrible conspiracy.
Can you?
Roses are red Violets are blue
Crime does pay
I'll show you
Will you remind me never to go out
with you again after a working day?
I'm bushed.
Jim, look at that.
That couldn't be from Miss Valentine, could it?
She's in jail.
Well, it was several hours before she was apprehended.
She could have had time to cook up a little something.
Last time I saw a box like this,
it was chocolate-covered cherries.
Jim.
That's a bomb.
There's only one way to find out, Artie.
I gotta know what that was.
Um...
Care for some sloshed chocolate cherries?
Who sent it?
Uh...
Oh.
Roses are red Violets are blue
I do love Paul J We're getting married at 2
Michele.