The Stolen Purse

Dick Powell transcribed as Richard Diamond, Private Detective. My name's Diamond.

I'd like a lot of working people. At five o'clock in the afternoon, I'd get pretty anxious for six o'clock to roll around. Especially if I haven't had a client for the last three days. But even if I don't expect anyone to drop in before six, I can't take a chance, so I stare out of my office window on 53rd Street just to kill time.

I see the night starting to muscle in on the Broadway bright lights, and I wonder just how many prospective clients are out in the city? Who's getting in trouble? What kind of trouble? And will they come to Richard Diamond for guidance?

Now, take the two hard looking thugs in the downtown hotel room. As they watch a pretty blonde, hurriedly get into a flashy mink coat. They're gonna need plenty of guidance. Where you going, Dottie? I got an appointment.

Don't you think you ought to stick around just in case the contact comes in? If it ain't here by now, it won't be until tomorrow. Stop looking like a couple of anxious bloodhounds relax. Sure, Denny, sure.

But you really kind of blame us for being a little disquieted. Don't she look classy, Al? Hey, who are you going to roll tonight, dale face? Your grandmother. Aren't you out of Alcatraz yet? I don't like no cracks about my family.

What are you going to do, Stan? People stop by the zoo every day. No, please. No logonarchy. Yeah, no logonarchy. Yeah. You keep running off at the mouth like that, baby. You'll be spitting out all your teeth.