Roy Earle: He's in that car at the lights.
Cole Phelps: He was squirming like a worm in there.
Don't you love it when they pull the war hero excuse? Actually, maybe you don't.
Roy Earle: I'd have expected a cad like Arnett to be a better liar.
Cole Phelps: Where are you taking us, Henry?
Roy Earle: That idiot never stepped foot in Okinawa.
Cole Phelps: He needs money, and fast.
Get in there and find out what he pawned. I'll stick with him. See how he intends to spend the money.
Move in. Can't risk losing the trail.
Roy Earle: Perfect, Phelps. I'll bring the car around when I'm done here.
Henry Arnett: That's right, Mexico City. One way ticket please. Next available seat.
Travel Agent: That would be one day from now. Is that okay?
Henry Arnett: It's going to have to be.
Cole Phelps: LAPD. The man who just came in here, he bought a ticket?
Travel Agent: Yes, sir. To Mexico City, tomorrow night.
Cole Phelps: If you hear from him again, don't mention this conversation.
Roy Earle: What have you got?
Cole Phelps: He bought a ticket for Mexico City. Tomorrow night.
Roy Earle: That's good... but this is better.
Cole Phelps: My God. It's Fabergé.
Roy Earle: Should have seen the look on the pawnbroker's face when I told him to hand it over. The guy who owned the joint thought it was worth at least ten large. For a cigarette case! Arnett only got six hundred clams.
Cole Phelps: Operator, give me dispatch.
Operator: Putting you through now.
Cole Phelps: Phelps. One-two-four-seven.
Secretary: How can I help, Detective?
Cole Phelps: Are there any messages for me?
Secretary: Yes, Detective. Detectives Bekowsky and Galloway request you return to Hollywood Station. They have information in the Julia Randall case.
Cole Phelps: Any luck with the arrest record check on Jimmy Leblanc?
Secretary: Yes, Detective. Jimmy Leblanc's last arresting officer was Patrolman Fred Wallis. He's posted to Hollywood ninth beat, Sunset Boulevard between Gordon and Wilcox.
Cole Phelps: Thanks for your help.
Passerby: The guy in the paper solved a big case!
Cole Phelps: You know the way. You can drive.
Roy Earle: Do we know where we're going?
Cole Phelps: A one-way ticket to Mexico. Old Henry's looking as guilty as a dog next to a pile of dog shit.
Roy Earle: What's his motive?
Cole Phelps: I can think of a few, but I'd put my money south of the belt. One guy plus two dames always equals problems.