Detective Quotes in Lethal Weapon 2 (1989)

[Riggs has dislocated his shoulder to escaped from a straight-jacket for a bet]

Detective: How the hell do you do that man?

Martin Riggs: Well, I dislocated my shoulder one time and I can do it whenever I want.

Detective: God damn man, doesn't that hurt?

Martin Riggs: Yes it does but not as much as when I put it back in!

[Slams his shoulder into an office partition wall]

Detective: "Don't F-U-C-K with the L.A.P.D."

Detective: What do you mean they're putting garbage in your car?

Man with Garbage: Every morning garbage in the front seat. You know, coffee grounds, potato peels and moldy fruit. It just gets such a mess when it gets on the floor and, you know, walking around with it slipping on your heels. It's disgusting; old chewed up bones like they had a dog or something. And one day it looked as though somebody had blown their nose in pieces of old toilet paper and wet cigarette butts and things like that. It's really disgusting, and you can't find that in your car seat every morning and live through it. My stomach turns and I really threw up several times, but not in the front seat of the car.

Detective: Now, I know you think you're smart, see, 'cause you got all them flashy clothes, you got that big car there, you got all them Black bitches working for you.

Dolemite: You forgot about the white ones.

Detective: 21 Precinct? That's our precinct. When did you start working here?

David Greenberg: Well, to tell you the truth, we started working here tomorrow.

Detective: Hello George

Det. Sgt. George Carter: Hello

Detective: Looking for your guvnor?

Det. Sgt. George Carter: Yeah. What's going on?

Detective: Well son, you could call it a briefing. On the other hand you could say it was a piss-up for ten public servants as they wait for a bomb to go off in the penthouse suite

Detective: We're dredging the water right now, but there's no sign of your "Star Trek" man. We're gonna have to submit you to a breathalyzer test, Mr. Woo.

Mrs. Woo: [to Mr. Woo] I told you not to pick him up, asshole.

Detective: "Fairmount High School." Must be quite a place.

Gerry Conlon: When can I go back to Belfast?

Detective: Next time you'll see Belfast, they'll be flying day trips to the moon.

Gerry Conlon: I always wanted to be an astronaut.

Detective: [Sid has been arrested] Why so tense kid? Look, we just wanna know who the girl was. Where did you meet her? Son?

[hands him a cigarette]

Detective: Son.

Sid: [Takes a drag and sniffles] I met her at Linda's.

Detective: Linda? Who's Linda?

Detective: Then one day he thought the way to make money there are a lot of people who had exotic backgrounds in vaudeville. There was a Chinese magician named Ching Ling Foo who was doing really well. So Billy Robinson sort of disappeared and he resurfaced as a Chinese magician named Chung Ling Soo. He had his hair cut off and made into a queue you know, one of those long queues at the back of his neck. And he had himself made up look like a Celestial. And he became incredibly well-known performing in England. No, he was a magician. He was a stage magician. He did these really wonderful shows. And the real Chinese magician, Ching Ling Foo, got outraged and he tried to have a competition with him. There was headlines in the paper, Soo fools Foo, Foo sues Soo. You know, they had this amazing rivalry. Basically, the guy who wasn't Chinese kind of won the contest, as this great Chinese magician. The other thing he did actually tried to catch a bullet in his teeth on the stage. And marksmen would get up. They'd have a bullet autographed. I mean, you would nick with your nail an initial into the bullet, and a rifleman would fire it at him. And this Billy Robinson dressed up as Chung Ling Soo would stand on the stage with a plate in front of his mouth, and the marksman would fire the bullet. And Chung Ling Soo would catch the bullet in his teeth, and then spit the bullet onto the plate. And they would check it. And it would be the same mark that was made by the guy in the audience It was an amazing effect. It goes back to the 16th century. There was a book about it called The Riddle of Chung Ling Soo by a guy named Will Dexter, but The thing that's amazing is he's performing one day at the Wood Green Empire Theatre, you know, in London in 1918. And he's doing this stunt they shoot him, he drops to the ground and he's dead. He actually dies trying to catch the bullet in his mouth. To this day, there's still all sorts of speculation about what really happened. Was it an attempt to commit suicide? He had some rocky relationship with his wife Dot, who performed with under the name of Suee Seen. But the thing I always remembered about the case you know, being a P.I. I guess is that the Coroner's report called it misadventure. Death by misadventure.

Deputy D.A. Penny Kimball: [from trailer]

[as Doc walks in the office]

Deputy D.A. Penny Kimball: Whoa!

Detective: Are you alright?

Deputy D.A. Penny Kimball: Am I?

Doc Sportello: Are you?

Detective #2: Ordinarily, we're the ones asking the questions...

Coy Harlingen: And your question is, which side am I on?

Doc Sportello: Good question!

Man at Desk: [smirking] Wrong answer...

Detective: Like a donkey fucking a hippopotamus, it's party time.

Detective: Hey! You paying attention?

Brian: No.

Peter Warne: [Detectives are looking for Ellie] What do you mean, coming in here? What do you want, anyway?

Detective: We're looking for somebody.

Peter Warne: Yeah, well look your head off, but don't come busting in here. This isn't a public park. I could near as take a sock at you!

Detective: Take it easy, son, take it easy.

Mr. Dykes: These men are detectives, Mr. Warne.

Peter Warne: I don't care if they're the whole police department. They can't come busting in here, shooting questions at my wife.

Ellie Andrews: Now, don't get so excited, Peter. The man just asked a civil question.

Peter Warne: Oh, is that so? Say, how many times have I told you to stop butting in when I'm having an argument?

Ellie Andrews: Well, you don't have to lose your temper!

Peter Warne: [mockingly] "You don't have to lose your temper." That's what you said the other time, too. Every time I try to protect you. The other night, at the Elks Dance, when that big Swede made a pass at you!

Ellie Andrews: He didn't make a pass at me! I told you a million times!

Peter Warne: Oh, no? I saw him. He kept pawing you all over the dance floor!

Ellie Andrews: [the detectives stand there, flustered] He didn't! You were drunk!

Peter Warne: Aw, nuts! You're just like your old man! Once a plumber's daughter, always a plumbers daughter! There isn't an ounce of brains in your whole family!

Ellie Andrews: [sobbing] Oh, Peter Warne, you've gone far enough! I won't stand for it anymore!

Peter Warne: Aw, shut up!

Mr. Dykes: Now, you see what you've done?

Detective: Sorry, Mr. Warne. But, you see we've got to check up on everybody.

Detective: We're looking for a girl by the name of Ellen Andrews, you know, the daughter of that big Wall Street mug.

Peter Warne: Yeah? Well, it's too bad you aren't looking for a plumber's daughter

[to Ellie]

Peter Warne: QUIT BAWLING! QUIT BAWLING!

[Ellie sobs even louder]

Mr. Dykes: I told you they were a perfectly nice married couple.

[Mr. Dykes and the detectives leave, and Peter and Ellie start laughing]

Detective: I did an examination for the Secret Service once. They've got a cinch with nothing to do but bumming around with the Government paying all their expenses. Riding around on soft, pullman cushions. Yeah, that's the kind of a job we ought to have.

Police Officer Bert Brady: What do you mean we? I'm satisfied here.

Detective: I don't mean you. I mean me and my fanny.

Police Officer Bert Brady: Oh, I didn't know you was married.

Bob Truman: The thing about a perfect machine though, you drop in one loose screw, and *bammm!*

Detective: Ah, Jesus!

Detective: [to Jim, about the not-yet-named "Herbie" white VW bug] Forgive me for pointing, but have you ever seen that car before?

Jim Douglas: No. No, I haven't.

Tennessee Steinmetz: Hey, he's a cute little fellow.

Jim Douglas: [takes another look] Hey, wait a minute. Wait a minute. I think I saw that car at an agency yesterday.

Detective: Now, permit me to inform you of the following: first, say nothing that would jeopardize your constitutional rights. And second, the minute that you get downtown, I would advise that you find a good lawyer. Shall we go?

Jim Douglas: Go? What for?

Detective: On suspicion of grand theft.

Jim Douglas: Now wait a minute, there's something cockeyed about this. How did that little car get here?

Detective: I share your curiosity. Shall we go?

[Jim laughs]

Detective: Listen - what are you here for, Marlowe?

Philip Marlowe: [smearing fingerprint ink under his eyes] Well I'm here 'cause I'm gettin' ready for the big game Saturday. You know, we're playing Notre Dame and I hope I catch a touchdown pass.

Detective: Just a minute, sister!

Molly: If I thought that were true, I'd disown my parents.

Detective: [chuckles] So you got a passion for jewelry, huh?

Molly: Yes... I got a passion for socking cops.

Detective: Where are they?

Molly: Most of them are in cemeteries.

Detective: [notices Carlo by the french doors] Who's that?

Irene: It's mother's protegé.

Detective: No wisecracks. Is that your son?

Alexander Bullock: That? Say, listen. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I'll be hanged if I'll plead guilty to that!

[Molly - the maid - brings drinks in to the living room where the police are questioning the family about the pearls]

Detective: Who are you?

Molly: Guess.

Terry Doolittle: Drag the river! There are killers running around the fucking city!

Detective: How would you like me to wash your mouth out with a wire brush?

Terry Doolittle: How would you like if I kicked you in the nuts so hard they get lodged in your fucking nostrils?

Marty Phillips: My, that's a vivid image, isn't it?

Detective: Is she on some kind of medication?

Marty Phillips: Not that I know of. Are you on some kind of medication?

Terry Doolittle: Marty! You know, you can talk directly to me, asshole.

Ian: Has this sort of thing ever happened before, officer?

Detective: I'm sure lots of people have had affairs with much younger women.

Ian: No, I mean a guy on a mower robbing people who have vacation homes up here?

Detective: I'm looking for Henry Lair...

Katrina: He's dead, so he can't come to the door.

[last lines]

Detective: All right, come on, come on, what's going on? Come on, what is it? Come on!

Clergyman: Please, sir, I beg of you, there's a dead man here.

Detective: All right, no one move!

[long pause while he realizes it's a church burial]

Detective: Finsbury?

Michael Finsbury, Julia Finsbury, Masterman Finsbury, Joseph Finsbury, Morris, John Finsbury: Yes?

Detective: MORRIS Finsbury!

John Finsbury: [turning Morris around and pointing at him] Yes.

Detective: Morris Finsbury, I arrest you for stealing £100,000.

Lawyer Patience: But the money has been returned, sir.

Detective: Who are you, sir? Some sort of accomplice?

Lawyer Patience: Certainly not: I am his solicitor.

Detective: Oh, you've brought your solicitor with you, have you? Yes, I've met your type before.

Lawyer Patience: No, no, no. I mean, I, I, I'm the administrator of the tontine.

Detective: Tontine?

Joseph Finsbury: Named after Lorenzo Tonti, a Neapolitan banker.

Detective: And who are you, sir?

Joseph Finsbury: I...

Masterman Finsbury: [interrupting] He's nobody. He's my young brother.

Detective: And who are you, sir?

Masterman Finsbury: None of your business, sir!

Detective: I shall have you arrested for indecent exposure!

Julia Finsbury: Oh!

Michael Finsbury: My grandfather was recently buried, sir.

Detective: And who are you, sir?

Julia Finsbury: He is Michael Finsbury.

Detective: And who are YOU, madam?

Michael Finsbury: She is Julia Finsbury, shortly to become... Julia Finsbury!

Detective: Young man, did you know there was a body in the piano?

Peacock: I did it.

Detective: Who is he?

Michael Finsbury: He is the butler, sir.

Detective: The butler did it?

Michael Finsbury: No, sir. I put the body there.

Detective: Is this true?

Michael Finsbury: Yes sir.

Detective: In that case, you are entitled to a reward of £1,000. You are responsible for bringing the Bournemouth Strangler to his just end.

Michael Finsbury: A, a thousand pounds? Oh, but I-I-I don't, I don't deserve it. The body just arrived in a barrel.

John Finsbury: I sent it.

Detective: And who are you, sir?

Morris Finsbury: He is of diminished responsibility, officer. It was all my doing. If there's any justice in this naughty world, the reward is mine.

Detective: And WHO are YOU?

[falls into open grave]

Morris Finsbury: You remember me - Morris Finsbury. I was falsely accused of stealing a hundred thousand pounds, whereas in fact it was me, and me alone, who was responsible for bringing the Bournemouth Strangler to his just desserts.

Detective: [barging into a funeral] Alright, come on, come on, what's going on, what is it, come on, come on!

Clergyman: Please, sir, I beg of you. There's a dead man here!

Detective: Alright, no one move!

Detective: What were you shooting at him for?

Nick Charles: I wasn't shooting at him. He was shooting at me. Why were you shooting at him?

Detective: Well, everybody else was.

Detective: It seems to me, Mrs. Charles, that every time your husband gets in with a girl, the insurance companies take an awful beatin'. Now, its nice, very nice, for a wife to trust her husband. But, get this, there's that Wynant girl he knew before he was married. He comes here to New York and bing - there's a murder. He goes back to the West coast, there's a good lookin' girl there and bing - there's another murder. He comes back here, meets this Lois MacFay and...

Nora Charles: Bing - Bing - Bing! There's another murder.

National Guard Captain: Well, looks like the guns got him.

Professor Shlibovitz: No... 'Twas beauty killed the beast.

Detective: [long beat] What's *wrong* with you?

Joe Putzman: Excuse me, Detective Sergeant Wino, I'm Joe Putzman. I was wondering if you'd like to reassure our viewing audience that this reign of terror in our town will soon be over. That these ghastly series of banana murders will soon cease. Can you tell us anything, give us one ray of hope that our streets will soon be safe to walk again?

Detective: No.

National Guard Captain: You Wino?

Detective: Detective Sergeant Wino.

National Guard Captain: Yeah, okay. Where are the kids? What are they doing? Burning their draft cards? Huh? Rioting? Wearing that damn long hair? That's what really grinds me, that long hair.

Detective: Say, aren't you the barber from down on 3rd Street?

National Guard Captain: Yeah, that's right. You need a trim!

Detective: I was thinking of cutting my sideburns...

National Guard Captain: Yeah, we can style them. Why don't you come in and have a shampoo too? Say about four o'clock Monday, huh?

Detective: Monday's no good. How about Wednesday?

Cal: Can't you guys discuss the haircuts later? That thing's got Mindy!

National Guard Captain: Yeah, speaking of haircuts, ya punk...

Detective: [surveying a park littered with dead bodies] When I discover who or what is responsible for this... they're gonna be in *big* trouble.

Detective: Anybody in that house?

Brady - Gates Patrolman: Who are you?

Detective: I am looking for a girl - Michael O'Connor's daughter.

Gates Patrolman Cecil Felton: She ain't there. That joint's as empty as a sewing basket in a nudist camp.

[Barry is approached by detectives, thinking that they are after Pope]

Barry Brown: Oh sorry guys. You just missed him.

Armed robbery detective: That's alright. We like you better.

Detective: [shouting, referring to Barry who is unarmed] He's got a gun!

[the Armed Robbery Detective raises his rifle up and shoots Barry]

Lorenzo: [after handing Detective Davenport surveillance photos and proof that Adam Styler's a crooked cop] So, you got enough for conviction?

Detective: That ain't up to me. That's up to a jury.

Lorenzo: [hands Davenport a gun in a plastic bag] Show the jury this.

Detective: What do you got there, Ness?

Lorenzo: About 3 weeks ago, the body of a drug dealer named Indian Red Lopez was found in an alley in Jackson Heights. Three bullets in his head, nothing in his pockets.

Detective: I'm with you so far.

Lorenzo: This is the gun that killed him, and these are the shells.

Detective: What's behind door number 3?

Lorenzo: The prints on the gun belong to Adam Styler.

Detective: Hey, do me a favor, would you?

Lorenzo: What's that?

Detective: If I ever make it onto your shit list, give me a call. Give me a chance to apologize.

Detective: Where'd you get this evidence?

Lorenzo: It fell into my lap.

Lorenzo: [after handing Detective Davenport surveillance photos and proof that Adam Styler's a crooked cop] So, you got enough for conviction?

Detective: That ain't up to me. That's up to a jury.

Lorenzo: [Hands Davenport a gun in a plastic bag] Show the jury this.

Detective: What do you got there, Ness?

Lorenzo: About 3 weeks ago, the body of a drug dealer named Indian Red Lopez was found in an alley in Jackson Heights. Three bullets in his head, nothing in his pockets.

Detective: I'm with you so far.

Lorenzo: This is the gun that killed him, and these are the shells.

Detective: What's behind door number 3?

Lorenzo: The prints on the gun belong to Adam Styler.

Detective: Hey, do me a favor, would you?

Lorenzo: What's that?

Detective: If I ever make it onto your shit list, give me a call. Give me a chance to apologize.

Ricky Roma: [to Williamson] OH I'm going to have your job, shithead. I'm going downtown and talk to Mitch & Murrray, and I'm going to Lemkin! I don't care whose nephew you are, who you know, whose dick you're sucking on. You're going out, I swear to you, you're going...

Detective: Hey, fella, let's get this done...

Ricky Roma: Anyone in this office lives on their wits...

[to the detective]

Ricky Roma: I'm going to be with you in a second.

Ricky Roma: You stupid fucking cunt. You, Williamson, I'm talking to you, shithead. You just cost me $6,000. Six thousand dollars, and one Cadillac. That's right. What are you going to do about it? What are you going to do about it, asshole? You're fucking shit. Where did you learn your trade, you stupid fucking cunt, you idiot? Who ever told you that you could work with men? Oh, I'm gonna have your job, shithead. I'm going downtown to talk to Mitch and Murray, I'm going to Lemkin. I don't care whose nephew you are, who you know, whose dick you're sucking on, you're going out. I swear to you, you're going...

Detective: Hey, fella, let's get this done.

Ricky Roma: Anyone in this office lives on his wits.

Ricky Roma: [to the detective] I'm going to be with you in a second.

Ricky Roma: [to Williamson] what you're hired for is to help us. Does that seem clear to you? To help us, not fuck us up. To help men who are going out there to try to earn a living, you fairy. You company man. I'll tell you something else, I hope you ripped the joint off, I can tell your friend here a little something might help him to catch you. You want to learn the first rule? You'd know if you spent a day in your life. Don't ever open your mouth 'till you know what the shot is. You're a fucking child.

Shelley Levene: [after Roma leaves the room] You are a shithead, Williamson. If you can't think on your feet, you should keep your mouth closed.

Detective: We're really sorry, Prendergast. We tried and tried but could not fit your fucking name on the cake!

Detective: You know you done fucked up, don't you? You know it, don't you? You know you done fucked up.

Officer Clueless: Tommy, ring a bell?

Detective: They all look the same to me.

Detective: It's a great place for a stud. Or are you a fag, Jack?

Joaquin Manero: [walks up on him] How bad do you want to know?

Detective: She's got a violent record, assault with a deadly weapon. Did you know that when you married her.

Joaquin Manero: It's *why* I married her.

Lloyd Hopkins: How'd he know the guys were Mexican?

Detective: They spoke with Mexican accents.

Lloyd Hopkins: To each other?

Detective: Um, didn't ask.

Lloyd Hopkins: There's your first lead.

Chief Constable: Three more bodies. It's an epidemic. If it wasn't for the remoteness of this god-forsaken place, we'd have the Press here, all over us.

Detective: I know. I know. There's something I'm missing. But I will find them.

Chief Constable: You miss the point, James. You speak as if we're operating in a vacuum. The fact that only some sort of miracle is preventing a general panic, has obviously eluded you.

Detective: That is not happening because this time everybody knows that those being killed have blood on their hands.

Chief Constable: Are they less entitled to our protection then?

Detective: No. But they may be facing more than we're able to protect them from.

Detective: These aren't kids. These are morons!

Detective: [to Fallon] Even if I am a policeman, I hate a squealer.

[last lines]

Detective: What now, Captain?

Police Captain James McQuigg: [exhausted] I'd like a little sleep... but by the time I get through with the coroner and the rest of the public servants... it'll be time to go to Mass.

Detective: Scarsi's sending a load of beer through Eighth and Grand.

Police Captain James McQuigg: There'll be hell popping!... That's below Spike Corcoran's dead-line.

Detective: Scarsi's got Spike's gang buffaloed... There's not one of 'em in sight.

Police Captain James McQuigg: Did you fan him?

Detective: If he had a rod, he threw it away.

Detective: Here they are.

[Brings in photos of the crime scene]

Stevens: Let's have a look at 'em.

Detective: Careful, they're not dry yet. The roof and the body of the girl. That's where she got it. Good looking gal.

Stevens: Why do these guys always bump off the good lookin' ones?

Detective: One thing I like about bananas is that they got no bones in them.

Detective: This isn't one of those tough cases which depends on clues.

[as Finch surreptitiously pockets a vital piece of evidence]

Detective: There's no evidence that the woman you describe ever existed.

[Jack comes home from a business trip to find his ex-fiance, Kristy Taylor, hosting prostitutes and their clients in the house Jack "legally" stole from Kristy]

Jack: I didn't have anything to do with this!

Detective: Well, who owns this house?

Jack: We do. Her and I.

[reclining on the couch with J.J]

Robert Glass: Excuse me! I represent Ms. Taylor, and I can assure you that Mr. Jack Wyler is the sole owner of this house.

Detective: Well, just what kind of a house are you running here, Mr. Wyler?

[caressing J.J.'s thigh]

Robert Glass: I think that should be fairly clear, Detective.

Detective: [disgusted] Where's the baby?

Helen Lyle: ...I don't know.

Detective: You're sick.

Det. Insp. Isaac Gissing: Obviously we'd appreciate your assistance.

Howard Hallenbeck: Well, I've given your man here everything. Every sickening detail. We've done maps, we've done drawings.

Detective: [looking at the crude drawings of Rawhead Rex] It's the same as what the boy saw, sir.

Det. Insp. Isaac Gissing: God, what is it?

Howard Hallenbeck: [sarcastically, referring to an earlier conversation] Of course, darkness can be deceptive.

Det. Insp. Isaac Gissing: I was wrong. I'll grant you that.

Howard Hallenbeck: Oh, thanks.

Det. Insp. Isaac Gissing: Believe me, we're gonna find your son's killer. The valley's being searched by armed officers. We'll find it.

Howard Hallenbeck: I'll bet it has hiding places you couldn't even guess at. You wanna know why?

Det. Insp. Isaac Gissing: Enlighten me.

Howard Hallenbeck: I think it belongs here. I think this is its home, from way back.

Det. Insp. Isaac Gissing: Then we've got it, haven't we? If this is its territory, it'll come back sooner or later. All we have to do is wait.

Howard Hallenbeck: Wait? Wait for what? More of your mistakes? More slaughter?

Detective: Look, Mr. Hallenbeck, we understand how you must feel.

Howard Hallenbeck: YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW I FEEL! You're goddamn stupidity is the reason my son is dead. Now do you understand that? I'll get the god damn thing myself.

Detective: Look, Mr. Hallenbeck...

Howard Hallenbeck: GO TO HELL! Just go right to hell!

Vincent Parry: I'm hiding.

Detective: From what?

Vincent Parry: My wife, my friends, my family, everybody.

Detective: Come on now, it can't be as bad as all that.

Vincent Parry: Well, I tell you what you do. You go up there and spend seven years with my wife, and then if you're still in your right mind, come back down here and tell me about it.

Detective: He wants to have some fun. Music, dancing, y'know. To kill time.

Dora: Before time kills him. It's a good idea.

Detective: Apartments don't kill people, Lara; people kill people.

Florence: [describing the disfigured man's appearance] And that face, it was like an African war mask.

Detective: You mean he was colored?

Florence: I don't know what he was, but he made Frankenstein look like a lily.

Devin: What is that?

detective: Gook, slime... nobody knows yet. Forensics found it all around here

Detective: What's with all the cats? What's the trouble? Rats?

Cat Man: Aw, thousands! Right here in my back yard.

Detective: Thousands!

Cat Man: Yeah, got a thousand cats too. Wanna see'em?

Detective: Any of you people armed?

Eustis the Chauffeur: All I got is my persuader.

[produces straight razor]

Detective: I almost remembered where I'd seen you before, and it wasn't London.

John Channing: Are you sure about that?

Detective: Well it might've been London, except I was never there.

Assistant detective Butterfield: Don't forget, England has the best detectives in the world.

Detective: I know.

Assistant detective Butterfield: I remember there, many deaths with puncture marks on their necks. I remember my first encounter with Dracula. Dracula. I followed and I searched everywhere. When I found him, I hammered a stake in his heart, and he died. Dracula is dead! As I said before, England has the best detectives in the world.

Jimmy Clayton: What is it, Pop?

William J. 'Pop' Shea: It's for Betsy. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow morning?

Detective: Sorry, old man, I don't like this any more than you do, but I got to take her back tonight.

Jimmy Clayton: But you can't take Betsy back to the orphan asylum! Know why? 'Cause Betsy ain't here! She's down south in dear old Dixie.

Flossie: Sure, visiting with my folks.

Jimmy Clayton: Oh, I wish I was in Dixie! Away, away!

Detective: Hey, are you crazy?

Jimmy Clayton: Yeah! Uh, no! You see, we don't want to lose Betsy. That's why I lied to you. She's up in her room.

Sarah Wendling: Officer, there's the child you're after.

William J. 'Pop' Shea: You let her alone!

Detective: Now, just a minute...

Betsy Brown: Don't you hurt Pop! Don't you dare hurt Pop!

Detective: We're not hurting anyone, little girl. There's no need to get excited, but we've got orders to pick her up.

Betsy Brown: No, no! I want to stay with Pop!

Detective: Well, I don't blame you, but you come along with us, and your pop will straighten things out later.

William J. 'Pop' Shea: I'm afraid you'll have to go with them, Betsy.

Betsy Brown: But I don't want to go back to the orphanage! I want to stay with you!

William J. 'Pop' Shea: Now, don't you cry. Soon I'll come see you, and I'll get you out again.

Detective: The Chief wants to see you.

Gracie Allen: The Chief? Oh, certainly! I just love Indians.

Detective: [referring to what was buried in Thorwald's flower bed] It's over in his apartment. In a hat box. Wanna look?

Stella: Oh, no thanks! I don't want any part of her.