Well, here we are, mister. The Pirates Cove.
Only bar in San Pedro catering to the seafaring trade we ain't tried yet.
You're sure of that, huh?
Mister, I've been driving this hack in this berg since the self-starter.
Sure, I'm sure.
All right, wait for me. I'll only be a minute.
Gladly. This kind of working for a living I like.
You just insulted this lady who happens to be my guest.
Hey, Bucket, put a hat on her, will ya?
Well, what's yours, mate?
Little information, Bucket. I was looking for a guy named Lash Lauterbach.
He's a friend of mine, about six-six. He's built like a battle ship.
He's a great guy. He's got a lot of experience.
He's got a lot of experience.
He's got a lot of experience.
He's got a lot of experience.
He's got a lot of experience with weapons.
And I'll get behind that.
They hate water and they hate to die...
I'll give the fight a try.
Yeah, we'll try.
Chuck, give me a hand.
Lash Lauterbach's not afraid of생-is-alive-as- introduce what it's not.
He's cool, silly bum, and hot.
Keen.
like a battle wagon he takes his whiskey by the...
by the fishhooks.
Lash Lauterbeck's a buddy of yours, huh?
Yeah. Why, what's wrong with him?
He ain't got any manners, landlubber.
He swings before he so much as talks.
Oh, he ain't?
Oh!
You see, buddy, Lash Lauterbeck tore this joint apart less than two hours ago.
It took five of us to get him out of here,
so when you catch up to him, tell him to come on back.
Tell him the drinks are on the house. Like this!
You got that message straight, sweetheart?
Sure he has, Casey.
He looks like a bright boy with a good memory.
Right, buddy?
Right, bucket. I've got a great memory.
Sorry.
It was high time for me to get together with my client,
a woman I'd never met named Daphne McGregor,
who'd hired me by long-distance call to L.A. five hours earlier
to find a giant economy-sized devil-may-care, hard-drinking sailor,
one Lash Lauterbeck,
who for some reason had to be aboard a ship she was sailing on at four in the a.m.
When I announced myself at the hotel desk at the San Pedro Biltmore,
and after a check call was told to go to room 113,
the old roux-way-type night clerk who pointed the way arched one eyebrow
until it nudged his two paybacks.
I saw why when I was at the door of 113.
Come right in, Marla.
Daphne McGregor with long, fluffy black hair,
gently framing a face that was a color and texture of melted caramel,
slinging sea-green eyes and full lips that were thin, subtle coral red,
instead turned up at the corners in something a little more than a provocative smile.
Come back into the patio, Marla.
They're just feeding your captain.
Just feeding the...
Shake a leg, Lassie. Shake a leg.
It's starving the full captain. It's starving him to death.
Hey, is that the captain?
Yes. If he doesn't keep quiet, he's going to be the ex-captain, stuffed inside.
Say what you mean.
Here, you parasite eat.
You saw him, Lassie. He's got enough.
Oh, he gets worse every day.
Easy, Tommy. Easy, Tommy.
Well, Marla, I see by that bruise on your cheek that you found life all right.
No, Miss McGregor. I only found some unhappy people who Lash had found earlier.
You mean you don't know where he is?
Marla, it's late. We've only got three hours left.
You are late.
Shut up, you.
Come in on the other room, Marla.
I'll be frank with you.
Frank, like the real reason you offered me 500 bucks to tear this boozer away from his bottle?
Yes. There's no boozer. I could explain.
Not according to the gentleman at the Pirates' Coal. Anyhow, your reason, Miss McGregor?
Definitely. My reason, Marla, is very simple. Like pearls.
Missing necklace worth thousands, maybe, huh?
No. A missing bed worth millions.
A missing... You mean on a half-shell? The real thing?
Real and rare. What do you think, Marla? Do I walk with you?
Yeah, it's fine. Can I help you?
No need.
Thank you.
Go on, Frank.
Now, Marla, listen hard. There isn't time to go over this twice.
Happy days. You too.
Marla, my father was the best navigator in the Pacific. He was drowned like the insane sea.
He left me two things. A caption there and a map to a fortune.
A bed of black pearls located on Parrot Island.
My father named the pearl find the Parrot's bed. That's part A.
Part B is like Louterbeck.
Louterbeck and Teddy Peterson.
Lash, the man you've got to find, is a crackerjack American tailor who lost his first mate's papers to jumping ship in Bois.
And Peterson also a wild man from?
No. Anything but. Peterson, Marla, was half the size and weight of Lash, but twice as smart.
He had a bad leg. He talked about pain.
I met them shortly after the war in Honolulu. They had $30,000. I had the map. We teamed up.
Came back here, bought all the divers' gear, and arranged for passage on the island race.
Ship that leaves tonight?
It'll be six months, Marla, at least, before I can find another scowl. If they miss this, I don't want to wait.
Yeah, but tell me, if Lash can't be found, why don't you and Peterson sail without him?
Good question. But the answer isn't there.
Rupert Sembeling, a British-born Malayan-raised louse who's right here in San Pedro now and who knows all about my family.
And because of Sembeling, we tried twice to buy the map and three times to see it.
I hid it from the lining of Lash's coat. A fact, which Lash does not know.
And Peterson does?
Yes. I sent Wood and I at Alargo via a bellhop in Ryton's car to Ted's rooming house.
It's 118 North 3rd Street. Right away north of it.
118 North 3rd, huh? Lash stays there with him?
No. We think it would be harder on Rupert Sembeling if he lived in different places and he had to guess who had the map.
Lash is at the YMCA, but don't waste your time. They haven't seen him since he checked in.
Now, Marlon, you know it all.
Yeah. All except where I might find Lash. That brawl at the Pirate's Cove doesn't seem to tie into Rupert Sembeling.
No, but Rupert or one of your little dagger men was no doubt following Lash.
It's our only chance. You can find Sembeling at his importer's office. It's a hole in the wall near the dock.
21 Harbor Road.
500, I promise.
Thanks.
There'll be another 500 if you bring Lash back before 4 a.m. Anything else?
One item, Daphne. Is there a chance that either Ted Peterson or Lash would cross you up for the map?
That's right. I can get to the island itself without the map. Sooner or later I'll find him there.
So you see they'd have to kill me as well if you're in.
A million and like, huh?
Well, I'm on my way. Goodbye, Daphne. I'll do my best.
Oh, Marlon.
Huh?
Marlon, one last point. Parrot Island isn't really the name of the island.
No.
Just in case you were thinking of, well, thinking of black girls and Marlon.
Bye-bye, Daphne.
21 Harbor Drive belonged near the dock, all right. For Shanghai, not San Pedro.
It was a small dimly lit twisted frame building weathered walled dirty and sandwiched tight by a couple of flanking stone factories like a meek 120 pound commuter.
Caught in between two fat ladies in the rush hour.
And the man who answered my knock and admitted that he was Rupert Semblen in a pleasant voice was maybe 50.
Looks like an underfed fool.
Can I be of some assistance, sir?
Yeah, I hope so. My name is Marlon, Mr. Semblen. I'm an investigator for the San Pedro Port Authority.
Oh, yes.
Yeah, we're looking for a sailor in trouble named Lash Lauterback. Do you know him?
Why, yes, I do.
Oh.
Haven't seen him for months, though. Not since... not since Honolulu, I believe.
Now, Mr. Marlon, if you'll excuse me, sir, I'm quite busy. A load of invoices, you know.
But if you'll call tomorrow, I'll be only too glad to go into this further. Good night, sir.
Semblen had invoices to attend to, like I had to spend the night mounting butterflies.
I knew that as well as I knew that the takey had done, had been at somebody behind me.
So when I turned and started away from the place, I slipped my right hand around the 38 in my pocket
and thought of Daphne McGregor's remark about Brother Rupert's little daggerman.
But just then it came. A knife a foot long, splintered into the wooden porch behind me.
Before I could get back to my feet, the small shadowy figure with raised arm,
I glimpsed behind a step-down hussom that was across the street near the win alley.
And when I was there and after him, I found only moonlight in the empty crack pavement
and a long, long line of loading ramps. I knew I was a loser.
But it wasn't until I turned back toward the man with the invoices that I knew just how badly.
Number 21 Harbor Road was lights out and one park cut to missing.
Obviously, Mr. Rupert Semblen hadn't wanted to be followed.
Now, Ted Peterson's rooming house on North 3rd Street was my only chance of picking up a lead on Lash Slotterback.
Oh, now, Mr. Riley, here's the fancy money you were so afraid you'd never seen.
All of it, $11.28, you and Cummins. Plus, Mr. Riley, $5 in entrance.
Abbey Players in San Pedro?
Oh, that's the price as you'll notice. Well, Mr. Liquor Merchant, it shouldn't.
It's absolutely only keep a rooming house, but he's a gentleman of means this day.
Oh, hello.
Hello.
I just packed it up a bit. I guess the screen door is only good for keeping the flies out.
Oh, really? Mr. Slickert, I'd like to see Ted Peterson.
Ah, Peterson, is it? Do you have a message? Like that bellhop, something that you...
I'd like to see Mr. Peterson.
Yee-haw. Very well, now, I'll call him. Mr. Peterson. Mr. Peterson.
Great PA, isn't he?
Coming, coming, I'll call him.
More talk about it? Oh, sorry. I didn't know you were accompanying me.
He doesn't. I'm here to see you, Ted. My name is Marlow. I'm a private detective working for Daphne.
And thanks, Mr. Slickert. He's here now.
Oh, yes, of course he is. No need for me any longer now, is there? Good night, Mr. Slickert.
Now, look, Ted, in the tight bundle it's this.
Lash is still missing. Was last seen at a joint called the Pirate's Cove where he was in a brawl.
You, of course, know he had the map on him.
Yeah.
Now, have you run into him at all in the last two hours?
Oh, no, no, Marlow. I've been right here.
Oh.
But you know, this isn't the first time old Lash has gone out and gotten himself...
Yeah, but this time it may be different. Rupert Samblin is on Lottaback's trail, I'm sure.
Samblin? That does make a difference.
Peterson, I think you'd better get over to the San Pedro Biltmore and stay next to Daphne, huh?
But why? We've got to find Lash.
And keep everybody alive doing it. Samblin already has his knife throwers out.
If he finds Lash and gets the map, he'll start eliminating everybody.
Oh, tell me, is there anything, no matter what, anything that Lash usually does at the tail end of a bender?
Oh, yeah, Marlow, yeah, there is.
Why? And it never fails.
Once Lash is through drinking and fighting, he goes for the deck of anything that's surrounded by water,
stretches out on his back, looks at the stars and sings until he either sobers up or falls asleep.
That might do it, Ted.
I'm going to head back to the Pirate's Cove and work toward the water from there.
You go to Daphne in a hurry, huh?
Yeah, all right, Marlow, but I still think we're going to be okay. Lash has done this sort of thing a thousand times.
Yeah, well, let's hope this makes it a thousand and one. I'll be in touch, Ted.
It wasn't much to go on, but as I walked from the rooming house to my car, I tried to tell myself that Lash is kind,
like the cows always come home. There was no reason for me to worry.
But the next second I changed my mind.
No, no, don't!
It was Peterson back at the house. When I got there, he was hugging the floor and trembling like he had every right to,
but he hadn't been scratched. The shaky finger he pointed behind him and in the line with the open screen door said someone else had been and then some.
H. Oxwell Flickett was crumpled in a corner dead. A long, mean knife deep in his back.
Marlow, Marlow, there was one ambulance then, I'm sure. It was after me. Marlow, what can we do?
Well, not much more than we were going to. Only first, Ted, you call the police, give them my name, and say I'll explain later.
And get to Daphne fast.
Why, you look for Lash.
Yeah, Lash. A guy someplace under a wide and starry sky. Should be a stench.
Ted Peterson was still staring at the knife between the landlord's shoulders as I went down the stairs and out on the clammy waterfront street again.
It was two o'clock. That left me with less than a couple of hours to find Lash Lauterbach, the giant from Borneo.
It was full to his ears with rum and probably flat on his back singing to the stars somewhere in the jack-straw jumble of greasy pilings,
tottering tacked together buildings and bobbing masks that were San Pedro Harbor.
I decided to push my luck and head to the Pirates Cove bar again. Since that remained, this is last known contact with civilization.
I parked on a side street away from the place and walked to the corner. Bucket, the owner, was just closing up.
I watched as the last of his steamy clientele staggered off down the street and then, while they fought with the stubborn lock on the door, I moved up behind him.
Hey, Bucket.
The joint's closed. Don't you jerks ever get tired. Shove off. Go on, beat it.
Keep your shirt on. We've got a conversation to finish. I'm still looking for Lash Lauterbach.
Oh, sure. Now I remember. You was in earlier, wasn't you, Bo?
Yeah, that's right. Me and my memory.
I guess you didn't learn much.
I learned just this much. This time, let's have a straight pitch.
Stand up, Heavy. Stand up and listen to what I want out of you. It's very simple. I'll make it hard on us.
How drunk was Lash when you finally got him out the door? Come on, talk it up.
Well, that guy don't get drunk. He just gets thick skulls.
Yeah?
But he put away enough to stagger an elephant.
You watched him when he left? Where was he headed?
Down the street.
That way? What's of interest down there?
Nothing. A few empty warehouses have beat up Salvy, Jordan, and Backwash. That's all.
Thanks. Now, wasn't that easy?
The street narrowed to a dark, silent alley, the tunnels were four blocks between hulking warehouses.
Finally opened on a sagging, rusty graveyard for old ships and ended abruptly at the brink of a stagnant Backwash mark.
Dead end. So I stopped and turned around and that's where my headlights picked up a woman.
She'd been leaning against the piling of the water's edge.
She looked into my headlights for a minute then flipped the cigarette away and told us toward the car.
Who's saying private property, honey? I got a right to be here.
Who says different?
You cut. Always. Every time.
Wait a minute, sister. I'm no cop.
Uh-huh. So I'm taking the night off anyway.
You picked a swell spot for it. Didn't hear long?
Why? Maybe I like all these old dead folks. Maybe I get a friendly feeling from them.
Could be. Also, maybe you saw an oversized sailor with a full headed seam boil out this way, huh?
No. Afraid not.
Did you hear him then? If his singing voice compares to the rest of them, you couldn't have missed.
Look, baby, it's worth ten bucks.
Keep it. I... I heard somebody singing.
I'm out there on the hulk something.
Oh.
Boop-sneak. Even the blues. I was glad when it stopped.
How long ago was it?
Oh, quite a while. Sure to be gone by now.
Uh, how about this? Back to the line.
No, I'm sorry, but I'm going out and have a look at the sailor. Thanks for the information.
Okay, so I'll walk. Maybe the first time.
I got a flashlight for my glove compartment and started out over the massive rotten but still floating hulk.
Finally, I found a catwalk of greasy plank that wormed its way through the deserted jungle of twisted fields,
apparently at the farthest point which was where I wanted to go.
I was halfway out when I got an uncomfortable hunch that I was being watched.
I stopped and listened.
There was no sound except the slow grinding of metal as the black water below surged softer.
So I went off.
The last ship was a squat, ugly barge.
Beyond it was the open harbor.
I played my light over the deck to a hatch and saw that the cover had made new scratches and rust.
I got it open and stabbed my light down inside.
Eight feet below at the foot of an iron ladder was the body of a big man face down.
On the back of his coat dead center was a large red stain where a knife had been.
I had one foot on the ladder when that hunch came again.
This time with plenty to back it up, I shot my light along the catwalk and for an instant caught a glistening yellow face.
It was Rupert Sembleham. He ducked and ran.
His head start got him almost to shore but after barking both shins and turning an ankle,
I got close enough to grab him by the shoulder and spin him around.
You piece of shit!
What did you do?
Tonight, slimy. You've done all you're going to do.
Come on.
Yeah.
You're breaking it.
Good, I thought knives were your specialty.
You're a regular little lot. Come on, drop it. Drop it.
Yeah.
Now let me go. Please.
You don't know how true you are.
It won't exactly get questions answered, Sembleham, but it'll save a lot of time in the long run.
Believe me.
I tied Sembleham's wrist to a ton and a half of rusty anchor chain with a long piece of wire,
which I figured would hold him just in case he woke up before I got back.
After that, I found an outside phone near the salvage yard office shack and called my client and said Peterson.
I made it where I was waiting in less than 10 minutes.
I brought him off the date, then with Daphne behind me and Peterson doing his best to bring up the rear with his cane slipping on the greasy plank.
I let the man out along the catwalk toward the barge at the end.
I hadn't told him yet that I'd found Lash dead, but I didn't need to.
Daphne sensed what was coming.
You're good, Marlow. You're better than I expected.
How'd you ever find this place?
Great, Daphne.
It's exactly the kind of place Lash would have ended up in.
He was really a derelict hoot, like all those who just don't want to come.
He is dead, isn't he?
Yeah, yeah, he's dead.
Nice, the way it looks.
I'm gonna miss him.
He had the kind of rowdy power it takes to keep a native diving crew in line.
Yeah.
I'll find somebody else.
Ted, I'm worried about it. It'll be tough on him.
Coming, Ted!
I'm okay. I'll make it. You two go on.
Yeah, this is it, Daphne and the barge.
Where is he, Marlow?
Right here.
That hat's a sofa.
Yeah, yeah, I opened it.
And that's where Lash is? Down inside?
That's right. Whoever put the knife in him...
Hey, Daphne, wait a minute!
Get the map, Marlow, I've got to get the map!
Marlow, why is she going down there?
Where's Lash? Where is he? What's happened to him?
He's dead.
Lash?
Somebody stabbed him.
Dead? Who did it? Semblin?
I don't know.
Well, there's a good chance, except that a couple of things don't figure that out.
Must have been Semblin the lizard. I'll kill him for this, Marlow.
What things don't figure this out?
Lash was stabbed, you said, just like Blickett.
Yeah, yeah. I've been thinking about that.
Also about the fact that Semblin followed me out here and ran when I spotted him.
That's out of character for a guy who...
What is it, Marlow?
See over there where my light is?
That puddle of oil, you see? It's footprints.
Somebody made these who was out here earlier than I did.
Semblin didn't get this far, and they're too small to be Lash's.
And something else, Marlow?
Hmm? Yeah.
Yeah, beside each one of them...
Never mind, I'll finish it for you. A little round mark made by a cane.
This cane. Don't you try for your gun, Marlow.
Okay, Peterson.
If you must have had a good reason, Lash was your best friend.
Friend?
Yeah, the one thing I always needed, Marlow, strength.
Strength. Enough to take anything he saw from a beautiful woman to a fortune in black pearl.
I wanted to kill him.
And tonight I got the perfect chance. The giant was drunk.
Followed him out here from that bar. It was easy.
Would have stayed easy if Daphne hadn't decided to hide the map on him.
Yeah, the way it worked out, you killed him before you knew he had the map on him.
Yeah, and then I couldn't risk coming out here alone a second time.
Only chance was to steer you toward his body.
But I didn't want you to find too much, Marlow. I didn't want you to get too nosy.
Too nosy like your landlord Flickett, maybe?
Exactly. He knew I lied to you about being home all night.
Wanted to find out why, so I had to kill him as well.
And that makes you next, Marlow.
What about Daphne? She's heard every word of this, you know, and you got your back to her, Peterson.
I can depend on Daphne, Marlow. I love her.
Now with Lash out of the way, she'll love me.
In any way, we're gonna be together a long time because she wants those pearls more than anything else in the world.
That's what you think, you idiot.
Maybe if you got a gun, for Pete's sake, use it.
I don't have a gun, Marlow.
Daphne, that map, did you find it?
Sure, I found it. I have it right here.
Fine. Now you go on ashore, darling. You wait for me there.
I wouldn't go straight with you now.
Daphne, what are you... Don't you move, Marlow.
I mean, you're a killer, Ted. And I'd rather those pearls stay on the bottom of the ocean than see you get your hands on them now.
Put down your gun, please.
Now look, Daphne, don't be a fool. It's ours now, all of it, darling.
It's nobody's. It's not worth it, Ted.
I'm burning this map right now.
Burning it, Daphne, listen.
Here it goes. Look, sucker. A force in the flames.
No, no, stop it. Put it out.
Now, Marlow, quit your gun.
No, no, no, just...
Daphne, I...
I'm sorry, baby, but thanks.
An awful lot.
It's okay, now. Honest.
Maybe it's even better this way.
Just the little fire I started is all out now.
I'm afraid it is.
Yeah.
Not enough left to bother with.
And those my partners have gone through.
Well, that's that.
It's better I found out all this here tonight than to go to the hospital.
It's better I found out all this here tonight than to go to some place off the mainland coast.
It's better I found out all this here tonight than to go to some place off the mainland coast.
I'd like to be alone for a while, not a second.
You mind?
I watched her walk away and thought about what she just said.
Then I took a long last look at the fall-on little pile of ashes left on the rusty deck.
Important ashes, but it saved my life.
Then I looked closer.
And saw exactly what I expected.
Daphne McGregor was walking fast when I caught up with her.
I took her arm and turned her around.
Hello, Mr. Marlow.
Where's that map?
Out on the barge. Burned your crisp.
What you burned out there was a couple of paper napkins from your purse.
I said you were good, Mr.
You really are.
Sure. You'd rather burn both feet off than lose that map, wouldn't you?
Now, tell me.
By the way, Marlow, what are you doing for the next few years, Tom?
I'd like to spend them at a gorgeous spot off the main lake.
Hey, take it easy, Tondolayo.
I knew it.
Phil, if you ever gaze into a whole handful of black pearls as big as Goldfall,
you take your breath away.
And they'll touch you.
Would you, uh, also make tiffin for me?
No. I think I would.
You wouldn't like that.
But there is one thing, Daphne.
Uh-huh.
Some of my best friends are oysters.
Good night, baby.
A beautiful green-eyed girl on a tropical island surrounded by a bed of black pearls.
Hmm.
Something to think about.
Well, when four o'clock came and Daphne's ship sailed out of the harbor with her and her map and her parrot all safely aboard,
Marlow, the jerk, was standing on the pier waving goodbye.
Waving goodbye to Marlow.