07x20 - Rage to k*ll

[bunniefuu]

By

Did I scare you?

I-I'm sorry, miss.

Hello, Carl.

Doc still in the office?

Yes, he is.

Staying kind of late, ain't he?

He sure works hard,
treating all them crazy people.

People who go to a psychiatrist
aren't crazy people.

Not most of them, anyhow.

How come they need
a head shrink then, huh?

Some of them don't.

But let that be our secret.

Good night, Carl.

Yeah, night.

By

Joe, there's a lady
outside to see you.

Mm? She have a name?

Greta Allen.

She say what it was about?

No, but she seems pretty upset.

Okay, Peggy, show her in.

Miss Allen?

Miss Allen, uh...

please sit down.

Thank you.

Well, what can I do for you?

Are you familiar
with the name Clement Jarrud?

The psychiatrist?

Yes, I was just reading
about his su1c1de.

It wasn't su1c1de.

The, uh,
police seemed to think so.

Will that buy three days
of your time?

Well, it depends
what you want done.

Find out
who k*lled Dr. Jarrud.

What makes you so sure?

We had an appointment.

And I know he meant to keep it.

An appointment?

Yes. I was...

closer to him than anyone alive.

Including his wife.

Dr. Jarrud loved his work...

and he loved me.

Do you have any idea
who might have wanted him dead?

K.Y or Z--
the three patients

for whom he sacrificed most
of his practice last year.

I'd begged him to tell me
who they were...

just in case.

I was worried,
with the book coming out.

What if one of them
recognized himself and...

and felt betrayed or exploited?

After all,

each one of them
had m*rder*d before.

And Clem insisted it was a book
that had to be written.

Read the book, Mr. Mannix.

It will show you the danger
that he was in

right from the start.

You ready, Joe?

Hi, Art.

Ready for what?

The Lakers game.

Don't tell me you forgot.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, I'm sorry, Art.

Uh, you're going
to have to go alone.

That must be quite a book.
Yeah.

Oh, yeah,
the guy that sh*t himself.

If he sh*t himself.

Who put that bug in your ear?

Partly, the victim.

You should read it, Art.

If you can, give me a summary

that'll fit
on the head of a pin.

It's minutes to game time.

Okay, X,Y and Z,

each formerly patients
of Dr. Jarrud,

each homicidal,
possibly cured, possibly not;

each, on the basis of this book,

with more than enough reason
to want to k*ll him.

You mean,
because he exposed them.

Yeah. And he was only
trying to determine

what triggered the rage to k*ll.

He thought
it might be beneficial

in the treatment
of similar cases.

Exactly who are X, Y and Z?

No idea.

The doctor was a fanatic
on protecting their identities.

Beautiful!

A book about three psychos
that may be purely imaginary,

and you're ready
to solve a m*rder that,

up to now, is also imaginary.

Yeah.

Well, enjoy the game, Art.

I'll phone you the score.

What do you want?

You're not the police.

The case is closed, isn't it?

Do you think the case
should have been closed?

Me?

How would I know?

Weren't you concerned,
or at least a little curious

about these three
mysterious patients,

each one of them
being a m*rder*r?

Of course I was.

That's why Dr. Jarrud kept a g*n
in his desk,

to protect me if something
should go wrong, he said.

Mm. And you have absolutely
no idea who they were?

Each one came and left by
the doctor's private entrance.

Only he handled their files.

Where did he keep the files?

In his safe.

Well, the police
opened the safe,

but there were no files.

Well, it's all I can tell you.

Of course, he was very cautious.

After he finished the book,

he probably took the files
and b*rned them.

Now, look, I'm-I'm sorry,
but I have to leave now.

Miss Shaw, let's suppose
he didn't burn the files.

Could he have taken them home?

That would be the last place
I'd expect him to take anything.

Why is that?

You might ask Mrs. Jarrud.

Mr. Mannings?

Uh, Mannix.
Oh.

Joe Mannix.
Yes. Uh, you are...?

Private investigator.

Oh, yes.

Well, what is it
that you want from me?

I mean, just what is your
interest in my husband's death?

Oh, the insurance company
sent you, didn't they?

No, the insurance company
didn't send me, Mrs. Jarrud.

I was hired by someone

to investigate
your husband's death.

Who?

Do you mind
if I ask my question first?

Did Dr. Jarrud ever bring
his private files

home from the office?

I haven't the faintest idea.

Would you like a glass of wine?

No, thank you.

Mrs. Jarrud...

my client has reason to believe

that your husband's death
was not a su1c1de.

Oh.

Don't bother.

It all comes out in the wash.

Mr. Mannix,

do you really believe

that someone k*lled my husband?

I think it's a possibility.

Then you're as mad as he was.

Poor Clem.

If you had ever witnessed
one of his depressions...

He was like something
out of a Russian novel.

All that time spent
with crazy people,

I suppose it couldn't help
but get to him.

Mister...

Mr. Mannix,

the police are quite satisfied
that it was su1c1de.

Mm.

Are you satisfied?

If you're still talking
about insurance,

my husband left me
quite comfortably fixed.

Mm.

Mrs. Jarrud...

did your husband ever talk
to you about the three patients

he identified in his book
as X, Y and ?

Clem didn't think I had the
brains to understand his work.

He was quite right.

It bored me.

Maybe that was
your mistake, Mother.

Maybe you should have
shown more interest.

Robert, how long have you been
standing there?

I just came down to see
if you were feeling any better.

I was...
until this gentleman arrived.

Mr. Mannix,
this is my son Robert.

How do you do?

Hi.

Mr. Mannix is a detective.

He has the remarkable notion
that Clem was m*rder*d.

Well, Mother,
isn't that what I told you?

Oh, you're a child.

I've read Father's book.

Have you?

You know I haven't.

Have you, Mr. Mannix?

I've read it.

Then you know it might have been
one of those three.

I've considered the possibility.

Mr. Mannix,
exactly who is your client?

Uh, let's just say,
uh, an interested party.

Hm.

And you're determined to earn
the money she's paying you.

You see, I do have
some talent for detection.

Well, you can tell her
she's wasting her money.

Good-bye, Mr. Mannix.

Robert, see him out.

I'm sorry.

It's quite all right.

Uh, Mr. Mannix...

I think
I might be able to help you...

I mean, to prove
my father was m*rder*d.

How?

Well, the moment I heard what
happened, I searched his study.

He wasn't my real father,
you know.

My real father d*ed
before I ever knew him,

but Clem was more
than a father to me.

I mean, he was a,
he was a wonderful man.

I'd like to see
his m*rder*r caught.

Anyway, |, uh... uh...
found this

hidden in a bottom drawer
of his desk.

Seems to be written
in some kind of a code.

Might be.

Thought it might have
something to do

with this X, Y and Z business.

I'll, uh, get on it right away.

Good-bye, Mr. Mannix.

How long
to break it down, Barry?

Nothing like what I saw
in the Army, Joe.

Looks like this guy Jarrud
used some kind of private code.

Now, that takes time.

Well, this is really urgent.

Couple of days.

That may be hours too long.

We're dealing with a m*rder*r
who just may k*ll again.

I'll do the best I can,
Joe, but that...

Look, uh, just feed me one batch
at a time, okay?

You'll get "em
hot off the press.

This just came
from Barry Chambers.

How far did he get?

...x-..

Child molester,
paranoid schizophrenic...

k*lled two children,

spent eight years
in an institution.

Where is he now?

His name is Carl Metes.

He's the janitor
at Dr. Jarrud's building.

Carl Metes?

Yeah.

I'm Joe Mannix.

I wonder if we could talk.

Wait a minute,
didn't I see you the other day

with Dr. Jarrud's secretary?

That's right.

What I thought.

You a cop?

Private.

Is there someplace we can talk?

About what?

Dr. Jarrud.

Okay, what about Dr. Jarrud?

Actually, I wanted
to talk to you

about one
of Dr. Jarrud's patients.

Which one?

Did you by any chance
read his book?

Book?

Who, me?

One of the people he wrote about

was someone he identified
only as "X," a child molester.

Well, what would I know
about creeps like that?

I thought you might know
this particular man.

Yeah, well, I don't.

You can't just come pushing
in here like that.

You're Patient X, aren't you?

Y-You think that, uh, he put me
in that book of his?

Not so that anybody
could identify you.

Then how come you're asking?

I'm going on a theory

that Dr. Jarrud didn't pull
the trigger himself.

You mean someone k*lled him?

And put the g*n in his hand.

Who?

Maybe one of the three patients
he wrote about.

Why should they?

They might be afraid that
their secret is no longer safe.

Well, I got nothing to hide.

You've got my word
that if you're innocent,

your secret is safe with me.

You don't know any secret.

Eight years...

in a hospital
for the criminally insane

for molesting,
then strangling two children.

Dr. Jarrud helped you.

He got you this job.

He treated you without charge.

He... he kept me from...

feeling... that I wanted
to do it again.

He kept me safe.

Me k*ll Dr. Jarrud?

Without him, how much longer
before it would happen again?

Before I'm back in hell again?

Carl...

at the time of his death,
where were you?

I don't remember. I...

I think maybe...

on the sixth floor.

Did you see anything unusual?

No! Nothing!

Except, yeah...

yeah, somebody came running
down the stairs right past me.

They didn't pay
no attention to me.

They're always... all of 'em
always looking right through me.

I... I might as well be...

a...

Uh, Carl, try to remember.

Was it a man or a woman?

Young, old?

I don't know, just a shadow.

You know, to most people
in this building,

I'm just a shadow,
I'm invisible.

Well, they're just
shadows to me, too!

If, uh, Dr. Jarrud was m*rder*d,

you'd want his k*ller caught,
wouldn't you?

Without the doc... I'm nothing.

What do you think?

Well, if, uh...

if that shadow you saw
ever becomes a face...

call me, huh, Carl?

Hi, Peg. Is he here?

Go right on in, Barry.

He's expecting you.

Yeah, right, right, I got it.

Thanks, Dan.

I thought I'd deliver
this handful myself.

Oh, yeah? Why?

Open it.

Kind of got the feeling
that with this Patient Y,

that Dr. Jarrud almost didn't
trust his own code.

Would the gossip columns have
had a field day with this one.

Well, who is he?

It's not a he.

It's Joan Cochran.

I Three sheets gone!

I And there's my soul I

J Dancin' in a pretzel bowl }

I Even though I ought to go

I And feed my cat

JIf that ♪

I Divine speaks I

I The music's sweet [

I I may stay and I may leave J

I Some old eyesore
who's looking for I

I A one-night stand--
swell, grand

I When I was young, baby,
young and limber I

I Somebody loved me,
I can't remember

I Who or what

I Snow is fallin'
and me with the sniffles

I And no galoshes!

I But I'm much warmer now

I Thanks to Willie, hey I

I Willie, baby, hey

I One more soda and rye!

I For the old barfly. I

Well, you blew it again.

You slept right through it.

Monkey with a bent spoon
would have more rhythm.

Joan, baby, give us a rest.

Oh, please,
start earning your money...

if your arm ain't paralyzed
from an easy living.

Well, who's the tiger?

Joe Mannix.

Oh, ye... yeah.

Uh, why don't you guys
take a break?

Uh... back in an hour.

Uh... you're
the private eye, right?

Thanks for taking the time.

Oh, I got nothing
but time, baby,

at least until they come
and plant me,

and, uh, whoever runs that gig

will have to cut my manager in
on the action.

You a fan?
I've seen you work.

On a good day,
you put out enough energy

to light up the city.

Yeah.

On a good day.

You dig me?

Come on, baby.
“Where to?

Don't be afraid, Tiger.

Mama don't eat
pussycats like you.

She only likes
to play with 'em a little.

Mm.

You really on a case?

Or you just saying that
to get next to me?

I'm really on a case.

How was that?

Unexpected.

That the best you can do?

Well, I, uh, came here
hoping to talk,

ask questions.

Al right.

Start pitching 'em to me,
nice and easy.

You remember a fella
named Boyd Wilkins?

Now you're getting tacky.

Why don't you just blow?

I don't like tacky men.

You stabbed him
during a rock festival.

There were , witnesses

said it was self-defense.

He started getting tacky.

There have been
a number of incidents

over the past years,

not all of them
reported to the police.

Always some dude who didn't
know when his time was up.

Have you, by any chance, read
a book by Dr. Clement Jarrud?

Man, I don't even get time

to read my own reviews.

Busy, busy, busy.

You were a patient
of Dr. Jarrud's, weren't you?

Yeah, I been to so many shrinks,

they're like a blur
you pass on a motorcycle.

This particular doctor
became a real blur

by taking a b*llet
in the temple.

I know just how he felt.

Boom, and it's all over.

You do remember him?

You sure he's dead?

Or did he send you here
to shake me down?

Is that what you were afraid of?

No.

You're "Patient Y" in
Dr. Jarrud's book, aren't you?

Brilliant entertainer,
self-destructive,

jealous, possessive.

Sometimes striking out
murderously

at someone who
didn't return her love.

Baby, you've got to be kiddin'.

I ain't never had
to beg for a man I wanted.

Maybe...

had some...

other little confusions.

Guess I needed ol' Clem to...

get my head together.

But, uh, after a while,
you started digging him?

Other way around.

Wouldn't be the first time
some dude fell in love with me.

Are you saying you were having
an affair with Dr. Jarrud?

That so tough to believe?

Well, I heard that he was
in love with someone else.

Never. He dug me.

Joan, he only
saw you as a patient,

not as a woman.

He loved me.

Say he loved me.

Say it.

What happened
that evening he was k*lled?

Did he tell you it was hopeless?

Were you there that evening?

You think I remember?

I could have been anywhere.

It was centuries ago.

Oh, Clem...

what'll I do now?

Joan...

I'm sorry.

Maybe some other time.

Wait.

Don't go.

Please don't leave me alone.

Don't leave me
alone in the dark.

Stay with me
till the boys get back.

Please?

Daddy, don't
lock me in the closet.

Don't whip me.

Oh, Clem, protect me.

Please don't
leave me alone in the dark.

What are you still doing here?

I can handle it.

Go on, get out.

Go on, b*at it!

Hi.
Hello.

From Major Chambers.

Oh.

Here you are.

Thank you.
Thank you.

Patient Z.
Mmm.

Hey, old Barry managed
to come up with a photo.

Well, he doesn't look
like a homicidal maniac to me.

Well, they come in all flavors.

I think I do remember that face.

The Philadelphia papers
a few years ago.

Joe, didn't
they give him a name?

Yeah, the Sapphire k*ller.

Middle-aged, lonely women.

Romance one,
give her a star sapphire.

Get her to make out a new will
in his favor, then k*ll her.

Then after seven years
in a state hospital

for the criminally insane,

a parole board
recommended his release.

Free and clear?

No, no.
On the condition

that he put himself
under psychiatric care.

But after treatment,
Dr. Jarrud apparently felt

the urge to k*ll was still
there just below the surface.

We're closed for the night.

Mr. Lewis?

Yes?
Mr. Mannix?

That's right.

Come on in.

On the phone, you said you were
thinking of joining the club.

Yeah, my doctor thinks
it might be a good idea.

What do you do, Mr. Mannix?
I'm a private investigator.

Well, we get all kinds.

You do much running around?

Well, a lot less
than people imagine.

The leather on
my desk chair is about worn out.

Oh, bad news.

Sit behind a desk,
drop dead at .

Unless I get ahold
of you in time.

And that's all the sales talk
you'll get from me.

Come on, I'll show you around.

Nothing but the best equipment.

Press machine.

It's sure a beauty.

Yeah.

Chinning bar.
Swing around.

Well, to tell you
the truth, Mr. Lewis,

I came here tonight
to talk about something else.

Oh. For a man out of condition,
your reflexes are pretty good.

Better than pretty good.

Okay...

what exactly did you
come here to talk about?

Did you know
a Dr. Clement Jarrud?

Who?

The psychiatrist.

Oh, sure.
Read about him.

The fella that
put the g*n to his head.

Flabby thinking.

You were his patient,
weren't you?

Who said so?

Well, you haven't
changed that much

since your picture appeared
in the Philadelphia papers

as, uh, the Sapphire k*ller.

Okay... what do you want?

To find out
who k*lled Dr. Jarrud

and made it look like su1c1de.

So, out of three million people
in this town, why come to me?

Dr. Jarrud had
a book published this week.

There's a similarity
between your history

and the patient he called

He swore no one
would ever find out.

He kept the promise.

Then how do you know?

He left notes, in code,
and well hidden.

Okay... so what?

The Sapphire k*ller's
ancient history.

I've been clean
ever since I got out.

Dr. Jarrud was afraid
he hadn't really cured you,

that the urge to k*ll
might return.

No!

He felt you were
walking right on the edge.

I don't want to hear any more.

Well, it was quite
a problem for him.

Telling anyone would
probably have destroyed you,

and, uh, keeping it to himself

might have meant leaving
a m*rder*r at large.

I tell you I've been clean.

Maybe you didn't
trust him not to tell,

so you, uh,
had to keep him quiet?

I wasn't anywhere near
Jarrud's office that evening.

Where were you?

Right here, doing my job.

I'm good at it.

No one here knows
anything about me.

Are you saying that
there were people here

who saw you at the exact time
of Jarrud's death?

Yes, dozens of people.

How do you know
what time that was?

Doesn't matter.

I was here the whole evening.

You have Jarrud's notes.

That's right.

And you broke the code.

You could use those notes,
couldn't you?

Dredge up the whole story again.

Turn people against me.

Destroy me.
Have me put away again.

There's no reason
for me to do that,

if you're telling the truth.

You believe I'm sick, don't you?

You and Dr. Jarrud.

You want to put me
back in that cage again.

I'd rather die.

No, I'd rather see you dead.

Lewis?

I want to help you.

You can trust me.

Lewis?

His alibi checks out.

He was here at the time
of Jarrud's death.

I almost wish
I hadn't found him.

I might have put
on the last ounce of pressure

he couldn't take.

Don't blame yourself, Joe.

Do you think he was sane enough
to be out on the streets?

If he does need help,
I guess he'll get it now.

By the way, Joan Cochran's
off the hook.

She have an alibi?

An hour before Jarrud's death,

she was busted
for drunken driving.

She was sleeping it off
in jail in Santa Monica

till she got bailed out.

That clears Y and Z,
which leaves...

X.

Well, maybe he's somewhere else
in the building.

No, I have a feeling he knew
the game was up and skipped.

I'll put out an APB.

What's bothering you, Joe?

Something's wrong, Art.

For one thing, Carl Metes
had no way of knowing

that Y and Z had alibis.

So why tonight?

Guilty conscience.

The need for punishment.

Dr. Jarrud probably could have
written another book about that.

Yeah, maybe.

But it just feels
wrong right here.

I think someone is using
X, Y and Z to hide something.

Lab report, Lieutenant.

Okay, thanks, Charlie.

It looks like
your gut instinct was right.

How come?

Carl Metes was already dead
when he hanged himself.

Here you are, Joe.

Oh, thanks, Peg.

Joe, if X, Y or Z didn't do it,

then who did?

Maybe a fourth patient,
who didn't get in the book.

Maybe he is
in Jarrud's notebook.

Barry's still working on it.

I got a feeling the rest of
the book is just a summing up.

What now?

Well, Jarrud's secretary
didn't know X,Y or Z,

but she must have known
the doctor's other patients.

We're trying to get
in touch with her.

Looks like someone drowned her
in the moonlight.

Apparently that mysterious
fourth patient

didn't want Jarrud's secretary
to tell us anything.

Which takes us back
to square one.

Yeah.

Oh, it's you, Mr. Mannix.

Yes, is Mrs. Jarrud in?

I'm sorry, Mrs. Jarrud
isn't feeling well.

Well, it's really
quite important.

Who is it, Helen?

It's Mr. Mannix, ma'am.

Well, show him in.

Come in.

Good evening, Mrs. Jarrud.

Well, what is it you want
this time, Mr. Mannix?

I'd like to ask you about one
of your husband's patients.

I told you that my husband never
discussed his work with me.

I think you know
this particular one.

Who told you that?

Greta Allen?

That scheming little opportunist
that hired you?

This was my own idea.

You're protecting her.

Why should ?

Because you're a man
of great secrets, Mr. Mannix.

And I think you've come here
to share one with me.

You believe I know
who k*lled Clem, don't you?

Yes, I do.

Well...

what if I confessed to you,

in strictest confidence,
that I did it?

Are you confessing,
Mrs. Jarrud?

Yes.

I did it.

Why not?

He was having an affair
with another woman,

and I hated him for that.

I began to drink,

until I hated him enough
to k*ll him.

There.

You can close the books
on the case now.

You've got your solution.

How about Carl Metes,
the janitor?

Why did you k*ll him?

What?

He was too heavy
for you to lift.

You're just trying
to confuse me.

I k*lled Clem, I tell you.

No, Mrs. Jarrud,
you didn't k*ll anyone.

You've been trying
to protect someone all along.

Mr. Mannix...

...please don't go up there.

It's too late, Mrs. Jarrud.

I- tell you, I did it.

Why won't you believe me?

I'm sorry.

Come in, Mr. Mannix.

You like this kind of music?

I can take it or leave it alone.

What about Mother?

Is it safe to leave her alone?

What do you mean?

Three people dead.

It has to end somewhere.

We both know that.

It could end right here,
Robert, with your help.

Sure, Mr. Mannix.

You name it.

Could we talk without that?

Anything you say.

Your stepfather was treating
someone in his family,

wasn't he?

Well... obviously.

But it wasn't your mother.

It was you, wasn't it?

Are you serious?

Let me see if I can put it
all together.

Your mother started
worrying about you,

convinced your stepfather
that you needed help.

He didn't keep notes
for obvious reasons,

but he probably decided
you were dangerous,

and told your mother
you should be committed

before you k*lled someone.

I suppose you only get paid
if you find some patsy, huh?

Pay or play,
that it, Mr. Mannix?

What happened, Robert?

Did Elaine Shaw find out
what was going on

and offer to help you?

Did she give you the notebook
and the g*n for a price?

Oh, I see.

You think I've been
paying her off all this time.

I think you k*lled
your stepfather,

then gave me the notebook
to find a patsy for you.

X,YorZ

And then you k*lled Carl Metes.

Well, if that's true, then...

why would I k*ll Elaine?

How did you know she was dead?

It was kept out of the papers.

Why did you k*ll her, Robert?

This is not the answer, Robert.

She wanted me to marry her!

Can you believe that?

That bag of bones!

I gave her expensive clothing,

I gave her furs,

I gave her money
because she said she'd help me,

but I never said I'd marry her.

Is that why you k*lled her?

Said she'd tell
the police what I'd done

and they'd take me away forever.

Well, it was blackmail.

She deserved to die.

What, are you blind?

It was a conspiracy.

They all wanted to put me away.

Because I was nobody's son.

Nobody loved me.

Your mother loved you, Robert.

She knew your stepfather
was right.

She probably drank
because she knew one day

she'd have to sign
the commitment papers.

For your own good.

Now...

now-now don't come any closer.

I've decided now.

I'm... I'm not going anywhere

because I am not sick!

I had to k*ll Clem because...

he kept talking about...
locking me away.

Well, I'm not, I'm not like
those other patients of his.

They couldn't hack it!

But I'm-I'm fine.

I am fine.

Nothing can touch me.

Nobody can...

Mama...?