We followed them to the apartment
and just walked in.

Hiya, Sammy. We come to the party.
- There isn't any party, sergeant.
- You thought you could skip out on us.

You feel sick?
- I'm all right.
- Maybe you better go get some air.

- Mitch. What's the matter, boy?
- I'll be right back.

- You want me to come with you?
- I'm all right. I'll be right back.

- I have to get ready to go in a few minutes.
- That's too bad, Sammy.

We gotta look after Mitch. Come on.
- Here's to you, Sammy.
- Come on, Floyd.

Thanks just the same, Sammy.
And that was the last we seen of Sammy,
the last we seen of Mitch.

He wasn't outside. I couldn't figure out
where he'd got to.

Floyd was pretty stinko. I started back to
the Stewart with him. Then I got worried.

I put him in a cab and went back
to look for Mitch.

- And ran right into me.
- You ought to know.

You came up to Samuels' apartment
even though you saw police cars?

Well, how did I know they had
anything to do with Samuels?

You're just a bunch of hick cops here.
You won't pin anything on Mitch.
Not in 100 years.

I'm sorry.
It's just that I'm worried sick
about Mitch.

Did you have some sort of
an argument with Samuels?

What was there to argue about?
His liquor was good. Everything was okay.

You'd never met him before?
No. I told you, I just met him in the bar.
I never even seen him before.

- You sure?
- Well, sure, I'm sure.

Of course...
...seen a lot of guys like him.
- Like what?
- Oh, you know...

...guys that played it safe during the war.
Scrounged around keeping
themselves in civvies.

Got swell apartments, swell dames.
You know the kind.