Chapter 1: What is the setting and premise of The Adventures of Sam Spade?
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Sam Spade, Detective Agency.
Hey, it's me. Hey, Sammy the Spade.
Sam. Sam, it's not true, is it?
Every word of it. What?
That you've been consorting with unsavory characters?
Well, she was a savory enough girl, Effie, although a crook.
Well, according to the paper, she's practically a murderess. Not to mention that she's dancing the rumba with you.
That's a lie.
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Chapter 2: Who are the key characters introduced in the story?
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I think I'm getting it, Effie. You've lost your shoes. Ready, sweetheart?
Yes, Sam.
No questions?
No, Sam.
That picture in the paper doesn't mean a thing, Effie. There was nothing between Virginia and me.
Just wasn't room.
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Chapter 3: What conflict arises between Sam Spade and Effie?
Subject, uh, Joe Morales. Uh, dear Johnny. You hired me yesterday morning, but the real start of it was back in 45. Flashback. San Francisco was just recovering from VJ Day, and crime was practically the standstill. Because your number one competitor in the West Coast mobs had just been rubbed out, and you were on trial for same. Nothing about the trial made any sense.
The tea time chatter in the better pool rooms was that you were taking the rap for your worst enemy, Joe Morellis. What made even less sense, the lawyer defending you was Joe's brother. So I wasn't a bit surprised to receive your check for $25, together with an invitation to be in the third row of the courtroom when the jury returned the verdict. I was.
The defendant will please rise. Step forward, please. Have you anything to say why judgment of this court should not be passed upon you? Yeah. It's a bad beef.
The judgment of this court is that you, John Lawless, for the crime of manslaughter, having feloniously run down, run over, and killed with a certain automobile, the deceased person named in the indictment, and having subsequently departed the scene in violation of the hit-and-run statute, are hereby sentenced to a term of three to ten years in the state prison of the state of California...
You didn't even look at the judge while he was dishing it out. Your eyes were on the man sitting directly in front of me. The man you were supposed to be taking the rap for. The man you had deliberately planted me behind, Joe Morales. I wondered what that meant. When the judge brought down his gavel, I found out. You came up the aisle with a deputy on one arm and your lawyer on the other.
He seemed upset about something.
I'm sorry, Johnny. I did the best I could. They've given me the judge I asked for.
You passed on that jury, you cheap shyster. Okay, just wait till you get my bill.
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Chapter 4: What leads to the discovery of the murder victim's body?
Shut up. Now, wait a minute, Sheriff. I want to speak to a friend.
Hey, Johnny, hurry up. We've got a train to catch.
Hey, you, Joe. Yeah, Johnny. I've got just this to say to you. I'm going up, but I'm not staying, see? If I'm not paroled out in three, I'll break out. Either way, I'll get you, even if it means a murder. Now, listen, Johnny. You heard me, Spade. Yeah, Johnny, I wish I hadn't. Come on, Johnny, we've got to go. Okay, okay. Don't forget what I said, Joe. So long, Sam.
Good luck, Johnny. Hey, Sally. Yeah, Joe? You hear what he said? I know. He's going to knock me. This guy's a witness named Spade. Spade, my brother Sally.
Salvador Morales. You may have heard of me. Yeah, if I'm ever up on a hit and run, remind me not to hire you. Come along, Spade, where we can talk quietly. Just over here. My conference room. Look, we got nothing to talk about. Oh, yes, we have.
Watch it. I just got this suit pressed. Yeah, right in here.
Sally, is it all over? How did it come out?
Where were you?
In here. I couldn't force myself to stay out there. What did he get?
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Chapter 5: How does Sam Spade investigate the murder case?
This ain't Quentin Widow.
Well, how's drugs, Virginia?
Why did they bring you here?
Maybe they know. He's a witness.
Witness?
To a threat Johnny made against my brother's life. My own client.
What's funny? Ask your brother. That threat would even get you rid against him to keep the peace.
What do you mean, Sam?
Uh, sweetheart, threats don't mean anything in law unless they're backed up by some action. Even if he told you the when, the where, and the how, it wouldn't be worth anything until you're dead.
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Chapter 6: What twists emerge regarding the relationships between characters?
Buzz me three times. One long, two short. And make sure there's no one on your tail.
Got it. I was not failed. I found your name on the bell panel, buzzed one long and two short, and the automatic lock clicked me in. You were waiting, one flight up in the open door of your apartment. You didn't say anything, just made sure it was me, motioned me inside, locked the door, and led me back to a bedroom.
Well, there it is, Sam.
Mm-hmm. Joe Morales. Dead about three hours, I'd say. Four slugs, chest, shoulder, and head. Looks like amateur work. A professional aims for the belly. Or did you mean it to look like an amateur job?
Would I be sap enough to drop him in my own apartment? Besides, he's my lawyer's brother, and I might need Sally again. Why did you call me? Well, you heard what I said to Joe after the trial. Who told you that, Virginia? Yeah, but she didn't have to. Didn't I ask you to sit there? Well, that's one thing that worries me. Look, let's go in the other room, huh? I feel like a drink.
Well, here's my pitch, Sam. I checked out of San Quentin yesterday morning. I didn't have a mark against me. The warden himself put my case before the parole board. He called me the ideal prisoner. Shall we dance? Okay, Sam, okay. But a man can change a lot in three years. So can a woman. Virginia met me at the gate when we drove into the city. We didn't have a thing to say to each other.
The way I felt by the time the ride was over, Joe could have her and welcome. I had other plans. Such as? Well, the parole board was getting me a job with a mining firm, a surveyor. I took a course up at Quentin.
You seriously expect me to swallow this line of guff?
Listen, you don't get fat making a living on the mace. Take half of these guys you hear, tell them the world what wonders they are at puffing boxes, knocking over joints and the rest of the lays. Yeah, not half of them make three meals a day at it. Then what chance has a guy without a regular racket? And brother, that's me.
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Chapter 7: How does the story resolve the murder mystery?
All right. Well, I called Joe on the phone this morning, see, and I told him to meet me here at three this afternoon. I wanted to tell him, forget about what I said about how I was going to get him. Not that I wanted to write off that rap I took for him, but if he was scared, he might come gunning for me. I might have to break parole to defend myself.
About Virginia, like I told you, we got nothing to talk about.
Yeah, yeah, it was beautiful while it lasted. So he was due here at three, huh?
Huh? Yeah, yeah. I was held up. As a matter of fact, I was with my lawyer at the time. Sally? Yeah, I phoned the building and told the superintendent to let him, let Joe in, and then I got here about a quarter past four. But I didn't find him until just before six when I called you, Sam.
How come?
Well, I just didn't look in the bedroom. I figured he got tired waiting and left, you know.
Well, look, Johnny, assuming your story is true, and if it isn't, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Who do you think did it?
Well, that depends on why. If it was somebody gunning for him, it would depend on what's going in the mob since I've been in Quinton. You know more about that than I do. If it was somebody trying to frame me... What do you mean, trying?
Hey, wait a minute. I got a phone homicide. You must have known that when you called me.
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Chapter 8: What final thoughts does Sam Spade share about the case?
I say you're probably bluffing that you got no way of getting rid of the stiff, but on the outside chance that you might not be bluffing, I'll swing along with you for a couple of hours. If I don't turn up anything by then, the deal is off.
Okay, that's fair enough.
Yeah, but this isn't... Hey!
Sorry, I gotta...
I hated to do it, Johnny. You were out of condition and you weren't expecting it. But I wanted you to look like a hospital case. After you went down and out, I transferred my fee from your wallet to mine, examined your wounds, and decided you were good for two hours at St. Agnes Hospital, where I know the head nurse. Incidentally, that reminds me.
So without further delay, I toted you downstairs, threw you into a taxi, and delivered you to the ambulance entrance. That's when I remembered that I had forgotten one thing. I hadn't given you a chance to call off your alleged undertaker friend.
I was sure that that part of your story was bluff, but just to make sure, I rushed back to your apartment in less time than it takes the average undertaker to back his hearse out of the garage, I thought. When I got there, I wasn't so sure. The apartment had been tidied up, ashtrays emptied, glasses put away, they'd even vacuumed the rug.
The blood-stained bedspread had been removed, and with it, the corpus delecti. I found myself humming an old tune, I Ain't Got Nobody.
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