Colmyer: Earle, Phelps. A shooting at the 111 Club, 6232 Hollywood Boulevard.
Earle: Sounds like a Homicide beef.
Colmyer: Two of the dead guys caught in the crossfire were carrying Army surplus morphine. Get over there before Homicide tramples all over the place.
Earle: We already cleared that up.
Colmyer: Judge in Pasadena took the big sleep yesterday. He had a personal stash of 20 syrettes. Appears we didn't get all of it.
Earle: Goddammit. We just can't seem to put this morphine to sleep.
Phelps: A dead judge. That's not good.
Earle: Everyone has their vices. Even you, Phelps.
Phelps: You can drive.
Earle: Parker and Green are going toe to toe for the top job. There's a change in the wind.
Phelps: About time.
Earle: This wind'll be like a tornado, Phelps. Parker's got a puritanical streak. You never know who will get swept up in a thing like that.
Officer: Homicide guys are already inside.
Cpt. Donnelly: Phelps. Back again?
Phelps: We're here about the morphine.
Bekowsky: Over by the bandstand. You can see what's left of the owner. Eddie McGoldrick, 26, former Marine.
Phelps: I know Eddie McGoldrick. He was a non-comm in my old unit.
Bekowsky: I'm sorry to hear that, Cole. Waitress said he recently came into some money and bought the club.
Phelps: Who are the other vics?
Bekowsky: Two musicians. Bittleson and Bowe. Get this, they used to be in a four-piece but the trombone player and the drummer OD'd.
Phelps: Don't tell me. Lamont and Tyree. We've met the rest of the band.
Earle: Now they're a no-piece.
Phelps: Do you mind if we take a look around?
Bekowsky: Be my guest. You might want a word with the hostess too. I'll keep her company until you're ready.
Phelps: Must have pumped a dozen rounds into him. Certainly sends a message.
Hostess: When you're ready to have a civil conversation, we can try again.
Phelps: Well-maintained, custom case. Someone cared for this instrument.
What's that click? Neat trick. The case must have cost more than the trumpet. He kept his cash close at hand. We should follow up on the musician angle.
Do we have a new source, or is this coming form what's left in circulation? Army surplus again. McGoldrick must have been moving contraband through the club. Dozen packs to a carton, a hundred cartons or more. Looks like a couple of months supply.
These look brand new. Never fired. They haven't been degreased yet. We could check on the serial numbers.
Earle: Was this guy hunting for bear? Look at these things.
Phelps: They're BARs. You get the old guy who sneaks one of them home from the war. How did he get three of them? Army surplus morphine, Army surplus weapons, Army surplus valors. Sound familiar?
Earle: We should get back to the station and check the details of what exactly was lifted from that ship.
Phelps: Bad luck, Eddie. Okinawa couldn't kill you, but knowing the wrong people in this city... They didn't even try to crack the safe.
Ma'am, I'm Detective Phelps, Administrative Vice squad.
Hostess: Welcome to the 111 club, Detective. Feels like I've had half the LAPD in here today already.
Phelps: Any idea who did the shooting.
Hostess: No idea. It was my day off. If I'd been here, honey, I'd be full of holes just like the others.
Phelps: You want to level with me, Miss, before we start taking an interest in you?
Hostess: This place has been on the slide for years. Eddie turns up, buys the club, then we start getting visits from tough guys. Next thing you know we have the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. Are you getting the picture?
Phelps: Tell us about Eddie.
Hostess: Eddie didn't know a thing about running a nightclub. He came into some money and waltzed in and bought the place. The previous own though all his Christmases and come at once.
Phelps: Where do you think he got the money.
Hostess: My guess was that he was selling the sort of quality product that you don't need to advertise.
Phelps: Thank you for your help, ma'am.
Hostess: Eddie was in over his head but he was a decent boss.
Phelps: Never the same, are they? You're behind the wheel.
Earle: Fine. Where are we headed?