Summer in the City (2017)
Come on, guys! Let's keep those hands up and move!
That's it. Jab, jab, jab!
Let's go! Let's go! Over this! Don't break!!
Jab, jab, jab! That's it! Keep that jab going!
That's it! That's it! Hold on!
Come on, Moses, wait for your chance.
Tuck that chin in, guys. Come on now!
What brings a private detective to a boxing match?
Maybe a certain boxer? Alright, give it to him!
Break! Break! Did you see that, Hemingway?
Boxer lands punch... great headline.
OK, come on, let's move! Let's keep moving! Keep moving! Right there!
You're gonna give Moses Page his due.
Not like that last column you dashed off.
You sleep through that fight?
Well, I was hungover. Please.
So yes, I probably nodded off. Don't you ever get tired of your own arrogance?
Alright, back up!
You OK, buddy? Great, the one interesting thing, and you made me miss it.
Well, it's your fault for arguing. So you'll be betting on Moses in his next fight?
Highly unethical for a Toronto Star reporter.
Well, I'll be reading your next article.
Try to be objective for once.
Always a pleasure, Ms. Drake.
OK, that's better.
That's better. That's better. Get up, buddy, you're OK.
That Hemingway, he's just a twobit typist. Haha!
You know, if I listened to critics, I'd have given up a long time ago.
Moses Page, the voice of calm.
I'm just saving it for the ring.
Then, Jack Dempsey had better look out. When do you leave?
I leave for Chicago on the weekend.
You can take him. You know that.
Thanks for the pep talk, Coach.
Well, can I interest you in a cold gin?
Hello there. Excuse me, but are you Frankie Drake? Who's asking?
I need some advice. Can't it wait 'til morning, Mister... whoever you are? I don't think so.
I'm Eric Morrison. Cap told me if I needed something, to look you up.
"Cap" as in Captain Morrison? Yeah.
It's about my car. How do you know Cap?
He's my father. It's parked close by.
She's not a mechanic; You should just call a garage in the morning. I don't think I should wait. Can't you just come and have a look?
Go check the car, Frankie, and I'll see you before I leave town.
I'd like that.
Alright, Mr. Morrison, let's go see what's so important.
So how is Cap anyway?
I hardly see him. He's always travelling.
And he's still with the Signal Corps?
I don't actually know. It's all a bit hushhush.
OK. So you've been here a few months, and you have a car already? It's a recent acquisition.
Did you steal it? I didn't steal it.
And anyway, it's not about the car per se;
It's about my trunk.
Mr. Morrison, I don't know how I can help you.
I think you will when you see him.
There's a man.
Past tense more appropriate.
Is this something you could help me with?
You have no idea who this is or how he got here.
I've no idea. I got off the ferry, looked in my trunk and found him. And you brought the trunk over from London? Yes. It's been sitting on the back of the car. And who did you buy the car from? I didn't buy it...
I won it in a poker game.
Fair and square.
Can you help me?
Have you touched the body?
I checked for the guy's pulse and his wallet. He didn't have either.
What do we do?
First, we call the police... anonymously.
Hopefully, that will buy us enough time to get.
You look wiped out, Frankie.
Let's just say it was a long night.
Sounds fun. I wish.
So, a body was called in anonymously...
You mean our friend in the trunk?
Neat packing job.
He's on the table, uncurling in the autopsy room.
Well, I need a time of death and an identity.
Preferably before the coppers.
That's a lot of pressure.
Let me get this straight.
Because this kid's father is a guy you knew in the war you don't think he's the killer?
Well, he could have just dumped the body.
Instead, he same to see me.
OK, well, let's say he didn't murder the sucker in the trunk, who did?
Maybe it has something to do with the car.
Now, Eric said that he won it in some poker game.
Or maybe it's just random.
Though not likely. Someone framing Eric?
Yeah, if that's the case, why him? What's he done?
Maybe he really is the killer.
Hello. It's me, your latest client.
You... didn't change your mind, did you?
Not yet. Eric, this is Trudy Clarke, my associate. Delighted.
You seem pretty upbeat for a guy who could be doing the dance very soon.
"Dance"? She means the noose.
Is it really that bad?
Do you have an alibi for last night?
I already told Frankie I don't.
No alibi, not helpful.
OK... First things first, we need to know who you won that car from.
All right then. We'll need to take a short journey.
How well did you know my father?
Well, he was my boss, and we were good friends.
He talked a lot about you. Said you spoke your mind, you had unconventional friends and didn't put up with any flimflam.
"Flimflam"? I haven't heard that in a while.
The last time was probably with your dad.
He said you were one of his best riders.
Still got that bike? I do.
I don't suppose, since I lost my car, I could sort of...
No one touches the bike. Yes, of course.
You're living on Toronto Island in a tent?!
Tent living is quite the thing once you're used to it.
How else to get away from the sweltering heat of the city. What are you doing here, Eric?
Beating the heat.
No. I mean here in Toronto.
Truth is my father gave me a oneway ticket to the colonies with the instructions to become a man.
Just as I was to play Hamlet for the Amateur Dramatic Society.
Maybe it wasn't a coincidence. This is it!
Home sweet home!
Where the hell were you last night?
My boat was almost stolen; You were supposed to be watching it.
I've got bigger problems to worry about than your bloody boat!
Now that you have that out of your systems, let's make some introductions here.
This is Archie, tent mate and otherwise acquaintance.
Yeah? He's a nogood son of a... We met at a poker game.
Yeah, where you were cheating! OK.
Tell me about your car. Who wants to know?
Someone who can cause a whole lot of trouble.
It was just sitting there. I kind of borrowed it.
So you stole it? I was gonna put it back, but then I lost it in the game. When did you take it?
About three weeks ago.
Who's the owner? I don't know!
Honest! What's this all about anyways?
Just lay low and try to stay out of trouble.
Thanks. We'll be in touch.
Where do you keep all the gadgets?
You know, the invisible ink and everything?
The inner sanctum of the detective agency.
A fully functioning gin still!
In direct contravention of the Temperance Act.
I didn't see that, ladies. The licence plate, Mary?
License plate "186148" is registered to a Mr. John Russell.
And he is...?
Well, from what I gathered from my discrete inquiries, he is a wellheeled gadabout.
Seems he likes to spend a lot of time at the Lake Ontario Yacht Club where he's the treasurer.
That's just a short walk from Eric's tent city.
Striking coincidence. And there's more:
Mr. Russell has not reported his car stolen.
Interesting. I wonder why not.
Suspicious behaviour if you ask me.
Maybe we should pay him a visit.
Good luck. The Yacht Club is strictly members only.
Right, Yacht Club... I think I saw something.
"The engagement of Mr. Peter Bennett, "son of Lake Ontario Yacht Club President Michael Bennett, "to Ms. Rose Adams will be celebrated at the Adams' summer residence on Toronto Island."
Russel will most likely make an appearance.
But how are you gonna get in? You're still in touch with your friends from the music world, Trudy?
There's a reporter here already. The editor wanted to send along a photographer. That's me. Doris Pittman.
They're a goodlooking couple. Do you know, has John Russell arrived? I haven't seen him.
Wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful!
Welcome. Welcome, everyone.
I want to welcome everyone to my home to share this day with you, to share in this beautiful view.
We're here this afternoon to celebrate this fine young couple.
Peter, my lovely daughter is now your problem.
Rose, you know I love you. Now, everyone, I would ask that you raise your glasses to the future Mr. and Mrs. Peter Bennett.
Cheers to the couple. Cheers!
Peter, congratulations. Hear, hear!
A beautiful day, isn't it? You know which one's John Russell?
I haven't seen him. OK, everyone...
Too bad, he's a good tipper at the Yacht Club.
A bit familiar though if you get my drift. More drinks here.
Thanks for the warning.
I'll be back in a moment.
Excuse me. You... you're the reporter?
Yes. Doris Pittman, Mr. Adams.
We've been expecting you.
Of course. Yeah.
This is such a lovely party; You do your daughter proud.
Thank you. Everyone's so stylish, but none more beautiful than the lovely Rose and her husband to be.
The perfect couple! Hahaha!
Now, this is for the weekend edition?
Yes siree. So let's make it good enough for the front page, shall we?
Absolutely. Hey. Hahaha! OK, you two.
Look at the camera.
That's wonderful. Now, how about one with the parents?
Absolutely. OK. Honey!
Yeah. You brought a camera;
How very enterprising of you!
Hemingway. So it seems we're a long way from a boxing ring, Ms. Drake.
(Mr. Groom to be.
I think that looks great! Ready.
OK, big smiles, everybody.
Why are you impersonating a reporter?
Society weddings, Hemingway? Really? That's a step down.
My editor is trying to break me, but damned if I'll give him that satisfaction.
So he'll get his boring, predictable headline.
Well, your passion for the job is staggering.
I hate this city. "Toronto the Good."
Here, you can't even buy candy at a drugstore on a Sunday.
Well, life's tough. I'll be seeing you.
Hey, hey, hey, not so fast.
You're gonna tell me what a private detective is doing here. And I know it's not for the free canapés.
Are you onto something? Maybe.
I knew it.
Well, if you'd like me to keep keeping quiet, you're gonna have to give me the scoop.
You're kidding me?
You think I want to continue to write thirdrate columns?
I want to write stories that sizzle, stories with real meat.
My silence for your story.
I am looking for a John Russell.
Johnny Russell? That playboy!
You know him?
Yes, I know him. He'll be happy to be investigated by you. Do you know where he is?
He's not in Toronto. He's in Havana.
What's he doing there? Probably buying candy on a Sunday. It's Havana.
Something to do with casinos.
In reality, he's probably getting soaked, but that's just Johnny for you.
Very nice. Very nice.
Thank you. Good job.
Good afternoon, gentlemen. Ms. Clarke!
Who's gonna tell me what's going on?
It's not really what it seems.
The booze is for medical use only.
I promise. Archie knows this doctor that writes prescriptions for alcohol for certain members of the Yacht Club.
Think of us as a delivery service. It's not actually illegal, strictly speaking.
May I have a word with you?
Why didn't you tell us you're selling booze on the side?
I know it looks bad, but it was just a way of making money.
Frankie's putting her neck on the line for you.
So if you're hiding something else, you'd better come clean.
I'm telling you, Frankie:
You shouldn't be trusting this kid.
Relax. Eric may be playing fast and loose with the truth, but he is not a killer. You know, I don't get it.
On all other cases, you are suspicious of everything that moves.
It's got something to do with his father, doesn't it?
You know what I think?
Captain Morrison, wartime boss, wartime fling.
And now his son shows up.
Yeah. It's awkward.
What happened? The war ended, and he went back to his wife?
Yes, thank God!
It had run its course.
No need for Eric to know by the way.
Is it too late for that cold gin?
Of course not. Come in.
So, how did it turn out with the kid?
It's a long story involving a trunk and a dead body.
You don't want to know. You knew his father?
He recruited me during the war.
To do what? I ran messages to the front.
It's amazing how a gal can be so invisible.
You were his eyes and ears? Something like that.
So there's even more to the story.
Well... it's all behind me now.
What about you?
You're not exactly an open book.
My grandparents were slaves in Louisiana.
Now I grew up in the bayou.
Mostly French spoken down there.
So what brought you here? When I was old enough, I went to New Orleans.
Turns out I was pretty good with my hands.
Started fighting town to town, ended up here.
All on my own, just like you.
Birds of a feather. Volent ensemble.
Your trunk man was bludgeoned to death.
Nasty blow, usual blunt object; Killers are not very creative.
Carpet fibres in the wound, so obviously killed elsewhere.
Time of death? Between 6 and 11 on the night he was found. No idea who he was.
Do you have the suit he was wearing? Mhm.
He sure got his money's worth out of this thing.
Likely a pipe.
Handmade. Label's pretty faded.
Looks like to be a Gerber or Gelber Tailoring.
Nice work, Sherlock.
Mr. Gelber and I had a nice chat about his pipesmoking customer.
You called him? It was the obvious thing to do.
Here's the victim's name.
By the way, the cops found a ship's marking chalked on a steamer trunk. The Mauritania no less.
The manifest is on its way.
Whoever owned it, their name is on that list.
Your victim, Buddy Steele, he was wellknown to police.
You don't say. But not in the way you might think. He was a private detective.
You're kidding? By the wear of his suit, you'd say he was a struggling one. It's a tough business.
How old? 28. He hung out his shingle when he got back from the war. Sounds familiar.
Any idea what sort of person he was? Well, from all accounts, he was a bit rough around the edges, but fair.
He wasn't above breaking the rules, although what private detective isn't.
Comes with the territory.
Do you have an address? Yes.
His office is on Spadina. So this guy survives the way only to end up dead in some kid's steamer trunk.
Who would do something like that to him?
Do you find this a bit ironic?
Takes a great effort to make a place look this depressing.
I think we found where Mr. Steele was murdered.
This explains the carpet fibres.
So if Buddy met his maker here...
How did he end up in Eric's trunk?
Divorces and... insurancefraud investigations.
It's pretty standard. Doesn't seem like anything worth killing over. Maybe it was personal.
Frankie, look at this.
Buddy was following Eric.
It's Rose Adams, Peter Bennett's fiancée.
So much for coming clean.
I think it's time we had a chat with our client.
How do you explain these? Where did these come from?
Listen to me, Eric. Your trunk is leading the coppers straight to you.
Things will go bad very soon. If you don't start talking, I'll hand you over myself.
No one can know about Rose and me.
So you are lovers?
How did you two meet? We met here, on the island.
She said she hated being cooped up at her father's place, so she'd slip out to meet me. I was a breath of fresh air.
It started as a fling, a summer romance.
Yes, because those always end so well.
She's my alibi for the other night. Well, that's good news.
But I can't breathe a word about us. Why not?
Rose made me promise. Her father would disown her if he found out she was in love with a Joe Nobody living in a tent!
A private detective is taking pictures of you, that detective ends up dead in your trunk;
How do you think that looks? It's all my fault somehow, isn't it? This is horrible!
How do you two lovers communicate?
Your game, Peter.
It's not like you to miss that.
I'm not in the mood. Let's just call it a day.
I'll get us some lemonade.
Ms. Adams. Who are you?
I'm a friend of Eric's.
I just wanted to have a quiet chat.
You know about that. So what?
Who would hire a private detective to take photos of you and Eric? My father of course.
He had me followed by that horrible man.
Why? He didn't want anything to jeopardise my marriage to Peter.
But you're still seeing Eric.
What girl doesn't need some excitement? And Eric is much more fun than Peter. So why marry Peter?
It's some business arrangement for Daddy.
An arrangement? The family needs.
Peter's capital for some project at Ashbridge's Bay.
I don't understand why. Daddy has "boocoos" of money.
And why would a modern woman like yourself agree to something like that?
So did Rose answer your question?
Rose Adams is a young woman who is caught between what she already has... Everything.
And what she thinks she wants.
The romantic allure of vagabond life.
Not that I blame her for wanting a taste of something different.
You know, I used to envy girls like her.
Everything seems so easy for them.
Yeah, but it's much more fun working than playing badminton on your front lawn.
Maybe one day Rose will be able to escape.
Who knows? Maybe Eric will end up being her one true love.
I didn't realise you were so romantic.
Well, what if I was to tell you that Trudy Clarke had a secret love life?
But I never give up hope. Now, the question is, does Donald Adams really have "boocoos" of money after all? Yeah, I'm wondering the same thing.
Let me look into it. OK.
Thanks for doing this for me, Bill.
Always a pleasure, but I must say.
I... am a bit nervous.
What for? I've never been to a place like this. This?! This is nothing.
Let me show you where the real fun is.
You in? Yeah.
Is this a speakeasy? My local.
Two cold teas, please. That's whiskey.
Shouldn't the police know about this?
They already do. Then why is it still open?
Because they come here when they get off their shift.
I can see why they do.
Did you have any luck?
These are the files you asked for.
Donald Adams' last three developments.
I have to get them back to the City real quick...
Jobs are hard to come by.
That won't be a problem.
Bill, I could kiss you.
I found the money behind Donald Adams!
His business partner is none other than John Russell.
You're kidding? Nope.
Adams is the brains; Russell's the money.
So John Russell is Adams' backer, yet Adams is desperate to marry Rose into money. Yeah, why is that?
We need to have a chat with the elusive Mr. Russell.
Half an hour, OK?
Man, do you ride a bike!
Why am I not surprised?
Aah... if it isn't the lovely chanteuse from the engagement party.
Delighted, Ms. Clarke. Mr. Hemingway.
Please call me Hemmy. "Hemmy"?
Are you kidding me?
Now I assume you career gals didn't bring me down here to chitchat about nicknames.
We need to speak with John Russell.
Can you reach him in Havana?
I could try, telegram perhaps, but it is Havana.
Then, when is he coming back to Toronto?
He's usually gone a month and a half, so he should be back in three weeks.
What's Johnny Russell got to do with all this?
Well, I'll tell you when I know.
But we still have our arrangement?
A deal's a deal.
All right then. I'll see what I can find out.
So Russell goes to Havana for six weeks, he's back in three...
Which means he left Toronto three weeks ago.
The same time Archie stole his car.
Look, I don't want any trouble with the cops.
I got a good thing going with those boys at the Yacht Club.
We're not here about your delivery service, Archie.
Just show us where you found the car.
Well, it was left over there.
It's usually deserted around here.
That's what makes it such a good spot to pick up the booze and take it back over to the island.
Where are we? This is Ashbridge's Bay.
The site of Adams' latest development according to Rose.
But what brought Russell here?
And why didn't he take his car with him when he left?
There's a survey crew.
I wonder what Adams is planning to build next.
I'm sure those gents will be happy to tell us gals all about it. Whatever it is, I'm sure Russell wasn't here to pick up a shovel.
Um, so, can I go now?
Call the Toronto Star. Get a message to Ernest Hemingway. Tell him to meet us here.
When did Russell make the transfer?
Could you get a message to him down there?
You're sure of that?
Where the hell is that?
The cabbie nearly refused to drive me out here.
I can see why. I take it there's a reason I'm in this Godforsaken place?
You are standing on the site of Donald Adams' latest development.
Mr. Skyscraper? They very same.
According to the survey crew, this is to be the new wastewater treatment plant, the largest publicworks project in the history of Canada.
And your pal Russell is the money behind it.
That doesn't make any sense. No?
Why not? Word is Russell's moving all his capital to Havana.
Casinos being far sexier than sewage, I suppose. Any luck reaching Mr. Russell?
Let me guess. He never arrived in Havana.
How do you know that? We have a theory.
Come on. Where the hell are you taking me?
Sizzle comes at a price, Hemmy.
John Russell drove his car here three weeks ago.
How do you know this?
A kid thought the car was abandoned and stole it, but the theft was never reported.
Why wouldn't Johnny report it? Good question.
To talk to his business partner Donald Adams, to let him know the he wants to pull out of the deal because casinos are "far sexier than sewage" after all.
There's a heatofthemoment argument over Russell moving his money to Havana abandoning Adams. It would have ruined him.
A confrontation happens, then Adams loses his cool.
One thing leads to another...
It all sounds quite sensational.
I take it you ladies brought me down here to help look for Johnny's body.
No. We brought you down here to identify Johnny's body.
Can the gin in this place be trusted?
This is a whiskey joint, Hemmy.
Your usual? "Cold tea"?
Thank you, Wendy.
I'd rather have my "cold tea" on the rocks with a splash of seltzer.
Of course you would.
Rest his soul. And damn the bastard that killed him.
So... why is a private detective dead?
Maybe Buddy Steele also figured out that Adams killed Russell.
So Adams decided to take care of him as well.
OK, then why put the body in the kid's steamer trunk?
It's the perfect frame. How?
Buddy had photos of Eric with Rose.
"Hotheaded lover kills private detective to protect illicit affair."
It writes itself.
OK, what now then, ladies? Adams was pretty clever.
Maybe too clever. You have a plan.
You can count on it, Hemmy.
Well, you just make sure I'm there.
It will be my number one priority.
Rose's father tried to frame me for murder?
And you thought your father was hard to get on with.
How do I get out of this?
Well, I have a plan, but I need your help.
Perhaps we can put your amateur dramatic skills to use.
Any chance it will get Rose out of that marriage?
All right then.
What do you have in mind?
Good evening, Mr. Adams!
Nice to meet you. Care for a little chat?
You must be joking. Leave.
You might want to hear me out.
It's about John Russell.
I'll have a Scotch. No ice.
What a terrific view you have here! You can see the whole city! Marvelous!
You were saying? Your business partner, Mr. Russell, I'm having a devil of a time finding him.
Really? Though I believe he's nearby. Ashworth's...
Ashbridge's, something like that.
Ring a bell?
What do you want, Mr. Morrison?
Peter Bennett is completely wrong for Rose.
Deep pockets, I know, good from a business point of view, but just not the right husband.
I, on the other hand... Are you suggesting that you-
Absolutely! I'm a far better match for your daughter. This is absurd.
Is it really? I mean, as your soninlaw, I would be honourbound to protect the family secrets.
I wouldn't breathe a word about anything.
Not a thing.
I think it's time for you to leave.
You sure? We have nothing more to talk about.
One more thing:
You might want to check your cufflinks drawer.
Rose lent me a rather handsome monogrammed pair.
One may have somehow ended up on the person of poor Mr. Russell. But... why don't I leave you to think about it, Mr. Adams.
What's your game?
I could ask the same of you. Why did you do it?
Because we were gonna make a fortune together until Russell left me high and dry.
That's why. I didn't mean to kill him, though.
But you did kill Buddy Steele and frame me.
I don't take kindly to being blackmailed, so you tell me.
In the drawer where you left them, I should think.
I'm not quite the freshofftheboat chap you thought I was. You bastard!
Did you get that, Hemmy?
Ringside seat, Ms. Drake.
Standing up to my father like that, you were so brave. It was nothing really.
What any chap would do to win his girl.
Haha! I'm your girl? Of course you are.
What? You think I'm your girl?
Well, you are, aren't you?
Darling Eric, it's been so much fun and everything, but it was just that, wasn't it? You know, fun for the summer.
You mean, you're going to marry Peter after all?
Peter? No, of course I'm not.
My father's in jail and all the money's gone.
So I'm free as a bird.
Our last kiss by the water.
Could there be a more perfect ending?
And decks Adams with this right hook.
He went down like he was hit with a sack of marbles.
It was a thing of beauty.
He's lucky she didn't hit him with her left!
He's still be out cold.
She's some kind of fireball.
No one like her.
You were absolutely right about summer romances.
Sorry about that. I will get over it.
Rose isn't the only one who's free, thanks to you.
Free? What about your bill?
I can pay for that over time.
I got a few things on the go. Really?
Nothing you need to know about, let's leave it at that.
Maybe you can put your acting skills to use again.
You certainly fooled Donald Adams.
Maybe you can tell Cap that.
Actually, maybe Cap doesn't need to know about any of this.
First rule of being a private detective...
no one needs to know anything.
Guess it's time to go.
I have that train to catch.
I'll walk you to the station.
Off to challenge Jack Dempsey, no doubt.
As a matter of fact, I am.
Good night, Mr. Hemingway.
Well then, Ahem!
Good luck, Mr. Page.
What's with the notes? Thought you already had your story.
I did, for the paper.
Something else in mind? A book maybe?
The thought had crossed my mind.
So many intriguing characters:
The dead man in the trunk, the desperate millionaire, the singing private detective...
I think there's one character you find particularly intriguing.
And who might that be? I've seen the way you look at her. Frankie?
Her and I are oil and water.
From the first moment I saw her. The Callahan case?
From when I first saw her, she... irritated me.
Well, just so you know, the feeling's mutual.
Well, there you go.
But you know what they say about opposites.
Besides, she clearly has someone.
Let me tell you a little secret about Frankie Drake, Hemmy.
A relationship with her can be very complicated.
Before we go out there...