Transcript
Phelps: Here. Stoneman, Office 505.
Earle: I swear, if we locked up every doctor in this town, Vice'd able to work half days.
Secretary: Yes, sir. Your name?
Earle: LAPD. We'd like to see Dr. Stoneman.
Secretary: Dr Stoneman is with a patient. Would you like to wait?
Earle: No, we wouldn't. Tell him we would want to see him now.
Secretary: There is no need to be rude.
Earle: Save it, sister.
Secretary: Dr. Stoneman, I have some gentleman from the LAPD here to see you.
Stoneman: Send them in, please. I'll see this patient again after they have left.
Phelps: Dr. Stoneman, we are investigating the death of one of your patients, Julia Randall.
Stoneman: I'm very sorry to hear that.
Phelps: Do you mind if we ask you some questions about Miss Randall?
Stoneman: Not if it doesn't compromise doctor-patient privilege, Detective.
Phelps: How well did you know Miss Randall?
Stoneman: Barely at all. She had only been a patient six months or so.
Phelps: Julia Randall has been your patient for nearly a year. I'm sure you know that.
Stoneman: You doubt my veracity, Detective? Do you have access to my patient records?
Phelps: Your prescriptions contradict you, Doctor.
Stoneman: Miss Randall was in the fashion business, as you probably know. She was jumped up on Benzadrine by day and knocked down by sleeping pills at night. I told her to slow up, but no. Life was too short for her.
Phelps: And you supplied the prescription for the Benzadrine.
Stoneman: It's not illegal, Detective. A lot of young women in her line of work use it for weight loss.
Phelps: You wrote Julia Randall a prescription for Benzadrine. How can you account for that?
Stoneman: Miss Randall was in the fashion business. She wanted to control her weight.
Phelps: Benadrine is addictive, as I'm sure you know, Doctor.
Stoneman: As I warned her, but she was determined. She said she needed it to control her appetite.
Phelps: Sounds like you knew her pretty well.
Stoneman: I knew the line of work she was involved in.
Phelps: That will be all for now Dr. Stoneman. We will be in touch.
Earle: The old boy is lying.
Phelps: About what?
Earle: I don't know. He looked relieved when you said she was dead. That's a strange reaction to have to the death of a young patient.
Phelps: You can drive.
Earle: All right, where to? Have you noticed how croakers only pull out the physician-patient privilege card when they got something to hide?
Phelps: There are certain things people have a right to keep private.
Earle: Until it gets in the way of police work. And it's only private when it suits them. A couple of drinks, and every doctor I've met will spill your darkest secrets in a heartbeat.
