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Dora Pirate Boat Treasure AdventureIf the boy says he went to the pictures, he went to the pictures. You sound like the police. If I’m going to help you, I’ve got to think like the police. It’s no use boggling. They’ve got a very good circumstantial case. They’ve got no case at all. The boy didn’t do it. And if you can’t clear him, I will. You hope you can. That’s what you mean. I know I can. I know I can. Shut up talking across me. He’s never talked to me like that in his life. Perhaps there’s a side to the boy you’ve never seen, Mr. Harris. I know my own son. He didn’t kill Sapphire. I know he didn’t. Tell Sergeant Newton I want him right away. Very good, sir. Right. Thank you. Report from the lab, Bob. The blood on Johnnie Fiddle’s shirt is the same group as the girl’s game and his knife could have inflicted the wounds. Right. Let’s have him up. Okay. Uh, you wanted me, sir? Oh, Newton. Get a warrant to search all the sheds at the back of Oakland Road. Say we’re looking for stolen lead. I want to see inside Harris’s paint shop. Right, sir. Is this yours, Johnnie? No, boss. No. Then what was it doing in your mattress on your bed? Someone put it there. He He put it there! What? All right. The blood found on this knife, on your shirt game matches Sapphire’s blood. And what about this? You and Sapphire, isn’t it? Did you kill her, Johnnie? Did you? No, boss. No! The blood matches. Not Sapphire’s blood. Then whose, you big lug? Horace Big Cigar. We fight Saturday night. Why the hell didn’t you say this before? They say I kill him, boss. They say? Who saw this fight? Them. Them? Who’s “them”? Alexander, Gin Ricky, Big Sam. Where do we find these people? Number , down the street from my place. It was selfdefense, boss. Horace Big Cigar attack me. I not mean to kill him. I’ll bet. No, no. I cover. I cover it. Okay, come on, baby. You take it. Eight point, huh? Eight. Eight. Baby wants new shoes. Seven out. Seven out. What’s your name? Horace Big Cigar. What’s yours, man? This man’s the law. Now, no ignorant, foolish talk. Mind? All right, Horace.