Brass Knuckles Rupert Holmes

Workin' out a homicide
They told me Joe Vinelli died
We'd been a team for seven years
His widow wouldn't waste her tears
Who'd done it, no one seemed to care
'Cause crooked cops foul up the air
But since I worked so long with Joe
I felt I had the right to know

I found a club in Malibu
He'd gone when he felt black and blue
For twenty bucks in petty cash
The hat-check girl spilled out some trash
And in her tale, I heard a name
That rang a gong to save the game
A congressman named Thorley Doakes
Who had a place in Sherman Oaks

Step softly, gumshoe, you're outta your class
You're treading mighty barefoot and there's glass in the grass
Brass knuckles won't help you when your hands ain't clean
Rubber hoses, broken noses are a trenchcoat scene
And you ain't dressed for this affair
You're breathing rarefied air

Up through the luscious state, I wheeled
A servant made me show my shield
The congressman conversed with me
He flashed his smile convincingly
He said he'd not a thing to hide
Which told me right away he lied
'Cause how could he afford the rent
Unless he's somewhat overspent?