08x06 - Death Has No Face

[bunniefuu]

Manni...

Mannix.

Hi, Joe.

You again.

Yeah. Who else?

What do you want?

You know, you're taking
quite a chance, aren't you?

Now, how'd you know it was safe
to pick up that phone?

Now, look, either you tell me
who you are or get lost.

You're beginning to bore me.

Now, you're not
really bored, Joe.

You don't sound bored.

Come on, come on.
What do you want?

All I ever wanted.

Justice.

What's that got to do with me?

Everything.

You know you've got to pay me
back for what you did to me.

What did I do to you?

Come on, Joe.

You know.

Pay you back, how?

Well, for openers...

...why don't you start
making funeral arrangements.

♪♪

Mannix.

Oh, hey, fellow,
I forgot to mention it.

If I were you, I wouldn't sit
in your desk chair.

Thanks for the warning.

Of course if you had,

I guess you wouldn't be
talking to me now, would you?

Oh, it's not a warning.

Sudden death would be
a little too easy for you.

Way too easy.

♪♪

Whoever planted this
either miscalculated

or he never intended
to k*ll anybody.

A trip wire, huh?

Pressure-sensitive fuse.

You find any more of them?

Three. And we're still looking.

Mm...

Well, there doesn't seem to be
any sign of concussion.

What about this arm?

You play the violin?

Why?

This won't help you
play it any better.

Nothing serious.

Any notion about
who might have done it, Joe?

So far, just a voice
on the phone wanting justice.

Somebody you helped
put away, maybe?

Unless you've got a better idea.

Doesn't that give you
some kind of a lead?

Would you like to go through my
files for the past seven years?

What about the voice?

Recognize any speech patterns?

Anything odd about
the way he sounded?

Well, he, uh,
he sounded playful.

That's why, until tonight,

I just figured
he was another crackpot.

How long has he been
calling you?

♪♪ days now.

Why didn't you tell me?

Come on, Art.

A private detective's life
is like a public towel.

Everybody wipes
his hands on him.

If I reported every crackpot
that called...

So far, we've dismantled
three booby traps.

You could have been blinded,
had your hand blown off.

Somebody obviously has
enough of a grudge against you

to go to all this trouble.

But not enough
to want to k*ll you.

Maybe it's some kind of
a warning for you to lay off.

Are you working on a case

somebody wants you
to stay away from?

Oh, no, this joker is
strictly out to k*ll me.

Only, not just yet.

Don't ask me why.

Why?

Good morning.

Good morning, Joe.

You must have had
some party here last night.

Yeah, did get a little
out of hand.

Wasn't, by any chance,
your friendly phone caller?

Guess he wasn't just
a harmless crank after all.

Joe, how did he get in here?

Eh, who knows?

Peggy, what's on my appointment
schedule this morning?

Oh, Joe, you're not
going to pretend

that it's business as usual.

You need protection!

And the landlord needs his rent.

Life goes on.

Until it stops.

My appointments?

What's a five-letter word
for a psychological aberration?

"Crazy."

Yeah, it fits.

That's what you are,
you know that?

You're crazy.

Hadn't given it much thought.

Mr. McCulloch called yesterday.

He wants you
to come to his home,

and here's his address.

Voila.

Who is he?

He owns an electronics firm
in El Segundo.

But I can cancel it if you like.

No thanks, Peg.

Oh, what about the car?

b*mb squad checked it out
last night.

Clean.

Mannix.

Hi, Joe. I'm your Mr. McCulloch.

I guess I won't be
needing you today after all.

Oh, you're getting to be a real
barrel of laughs, aren't you?

Oh, listen, by the way,

you might check
your glove compartment.

Now, don't worry,
it's not wired.

Hi.
Hi.

Call Larry Watson's garage.

Tell him I need
a new windshield.

No Mr. McCulloch, right?

A setup.

Oh, Joe, I'm sorry.

I should have
checked it out further.

Well, it's not a total loss.

He left me a souvenir.

Oh, Joe, he really
means business.

Well, if he doesn't,
he's got a great sense of humor.

Do you know when this was taken?

That, uh, tie I'm wearing--
you recognize it?

It's the one
I got for your birthday.

Two years ago.
I wore it every day for a week,

until that pretty young lady
with the long legs

and the short fuse
spilled coffee on it.

Then we gave it
to a rummage sale.

Where it sold for cents.

Peggy, get me my appointment
book for that week.

Maybe he left us
a clue we can follow.

Here it is, Joe.

Three days as an industrial
security consultant.

Don't remind me.

And that extortion case.

You nailed a man
by the name of Ira Beecher.

Joe, I remember the trial.

Beecher swore he'd get you if it
was the last thing he ever did.

Ira Beecher got out
six months ago, Joe.

He went home to Santa Marta
and got into trouble there, too.

Extortion again?

Something with
a little more class to it.

A hunting accident.

He sh*t a man
named Tom O'Connor,

a newspaper reporter from L.A.
who was up there on vacation.

But he turned himself right in,
copped a plea,

got six months for manslaughter.

Still in jail?

No, he was released
two weeks ago-- good behavior.

Why?

I got a hunch he's been
keeping himself pretty busy.

♪♪

Excuse me. Sheriff in?

Uh, yeah, right in there.

Thanks.

Mannix, right?

Right.

Lieutenant Malcolm from LAPD
called me about you.

Anything I can do to help out?

Yeah, Sheriff, uh, you know
a man named Ira Beecher?

I'm the one that sent him away.

I hear he's out now.

That's a fact.

What's he doing?

At the rate you fellas charge
for your time,

you must be
on to something pretty big, huh?

You know where
I might find Beecher?

Well, he hasn't got a wife,

and he hasn't got a house
with a kitchen in it,

and there's just
one coffee shop in town.

Man's got to eat.

Doesn't take much detective work
to figure that one out.

Thanks, Sheriff.

Hey,

you didn't come
all the way up here

to talk to a small-time punk
like him, did you?

Yeah, for a start.

Charlie?

See that fellow, there?

Name's Mannix.

Says he came all the way
from LA to talk to Beecher.

You keep an eye on him.

See that he don't trip
over his shoelaces

or something like that.

And how're you today?

Well, that depends.

On what?

Your answer to a question.

Oh, well, uh,

I don't get off till : ,

but I never go out
with new customers.

My loss.

What I really wanted to know

is what time does Ira Beecher
usually come in?

He doesn't.

Not anymore.

The Sheriff told me I could
find him here, sooner or later.

Mm-hmm, well, folks in this town
liable to say a lot of things.

Something wrong?

Mister, there's people
in this world

you could set your clock by

how surely something
always goes wrong.

People like Ira Beecher?

My mother always said
he was trash,

a born loser.

In and out of jail all his life,

but, um, he had these big ideas,
you know.

I thought he'd be
my one-way ticket

out of this hole-in-the-wall

What sort of "big ideas"?

Who are you?

Maybe I could help him.

He's already been helped.

By whom?

Ain't but one person
in this town can help anybody.

Who's that?

The boss-lady
at the Bullard Ranch.

Owns everything and everyone.

Last time Ira got out,
she gave him back his old job.

Don't ask me why.

Man just out of jail
for k*lling a man.

What do you want
to see him about?

Well, uh,
he once made me a promise.

I want to talk to him about it.

Oh, fat chance of him
ever keeping a promise.

I take it he made one to you?

Yeah.

Fresh out of the cooler,

he comes stomping in here like
he had the world up his sleeve.

Only I guess
a-a marriage certificate

wasn't part of it.

You were engaged?

I waited for him
all these years, didn't ?

But, uh, he had big plans.

Gonna move to LA

and live in a big house
with a front lawn,

and, uh,

I guess I wasn't good enough
for him anymore.

Where can I find him?

Like I said, he's working
for the Bullard Ranch.

Ask them.

Howdy, looking for somebody?

Mrs. Bullard.

On what business?

Personal.

Well, if it's personal,
you can talk to me.

Who are you?

Her husband.

I thought Mr. Bullard was dead.

I'm her new husband.

Name's Lee Traherne.

You?

The name is Mannix.

I'm a private investigator.

I'm looking for Ira Beecher.

Why?

I said private investigator.

This way.

Her name is Mrs. Traherne now.

Honey?

Got a fellow here
that says he's a private cop.

Mr. Mannix, my wife.

How do you do?

How do you do, Mr. Mannix?

Won't you come in?

He wants to ask you about Ira.

Ira? Whatever for?

If you've got one
of your headaches,

you don't have to talk to him
if you don't want to.

It's all right; I don't mind.

Please sit down, Mr. Mannix.

Thank you.

Now, what is it that you're
investigating around here?

Oh, nothing, really.

I just came to see Ira Beecher.

I understand he's working
for you.

Yes.

The poor man, he was so bitter
and filled with hatred

when he came out of prison,

and I-I just wanted him to know

that all of his friends hadn't
turned their backs on him.

That's very understanding
of you.

Yes.

I understand men.

I always did.

I think they appreciate
being understood, don't you?

Oh, by all means.

Where can I find Mr. Beecher?

Well, he didn't really come
to work this morning

and having just moved
into a new place,

I doubt whether
he has a telephone yet.

Do you have his address?

Well, it's someplace in town.

I didn't ask.

Actually, I...

I wouldn't have any reason to go
and visit him, now would ?

No, I guess not.

I think you'd better be going,
Mr. Mannix.

You can tell how my wife
isn't feeling too well.

I'm sorry.

Well, uh,

thanks for seeing me,
Mrs. Traherne.

I'm-I'm only sorry that
I couldn't be some real help.

It's quite all right.

Mr. Mannix?

You said you were looking
for Ira Beecher?

That's right.

He's at Moody's Hotel.

He didn't show up
for work today.

Do you have any idea why?

Yeah, my mother fired him
two days ago.

Your mother?

I'm Kirk Bullard.

Your mother didn't mention
she'd fired him.

You know how it is.

We've got us
a nice quiet town here.

Mother doesn't like anybody
stirring up ghosts.

What sort of ghosts?

I'd just as soon
Beecher told you himself.

Has it anything to do
with Tom O'Connor,

the reporter Ira k*lled
in that hunting accident?

Man can't be a ghost
unless he's dead, right?

Was O'Connor
really just vacationing here,

or was he on a story?

I'm sorry, Mr. Mannix.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

Mannix, I don't recollect
asking you to hang around.

I thought maybe
one of the hired hands

could tell me
where Beecher was living.

That is not
one of the hired hands.

What'd he tell you?

That Ira Beecher had been fired.

That's right, and I fired him.

You?

I don't let anybody
upset my wife

for any reason whatsoever.

I'll keep that in mind.

♪♪

Just a minute.

Yeah?

Does Ira Beecher live here?

That's right.

I got his luggage,

and he ain't going nowhere
till his rent's paid up.

Well, I didn't come here
to carry him off.

I just wanted to talk to him.

First apartment,
head of the stairs.

Thanks.

You k*lled him.

An unarmed man.

In cold blood.

♪♪

I don't understand, Mannix.

You're a professional.

How can a thing like that
happen to you?

Like I told you--
I was going up the stairs.

He fired two sh*ts at me.

I fired back.

Yeah?
What'd he use for a g*n?

Mrs. Moody,
how many sh*ts did you hear?

Only sh*t I heard
was him sh**ting at Ira.

I'll tell you again, Sheriff.

Ira sh*t at me first.

Why?

Well, I can only guess.

A couple of years ago,
I sent him to jail.

At the time,
he swore to get even.

So you figured
you'd better get him first.

Now, let's get one thing
straight, Sheriff.

Ira Beecher fired two sh*ts
at me first.

I did not mean to k*ll him.

It was self-defense.

Then how come the only sh*t
Mrs. Moody heard was yours?

I'm sure she had a good reason.

Or a sudden hearing loss.

Now, looky here, mister.

All right, all right.

Give me your car keys.

Put the cuffs on him, Charley.

Now, wait a minute.

There's got to be
a couple of b*llet holes

in that wall
where he sh*t at me.

All right, let's see.

Go.

Would you like to show me
where the b*ll*ts went in?

Well, that's beautiful.

I was suckered into k*lling him.

What's that supposed to mean?

He wasn't alone
down there in that room.

Who was with him?

Somebody who knew Ira
threatened to get me once.

Probably convinced Ira
I came to town to k*ll him,

gave him a g*n and said
he'd better get me first.

Why no b*llet holes?

Well, that's pretty obvious,
isn't it, Sheriff?

There were blanks
in the g*n he was given.

Ira was meant to get k*lled.

If you can get a jury to believe

all of that, Mannix,
it's okay with me.

Sheriff, who do you know
in this town

that might have wanted
Ira Beecher dead

badly enough to set me up?

Let's go.

Take the car.
Bring some help.

He won't get far.
Right.

What do you want?

I suppose you heard about Ira.

I'm sorry, Mona.

Somebody in this town
needed Ira dead

badly enough to set me up
as the middleman.

All I know is you sh*t him.

I swear it was rigged.

Your g*n k*lled him.

I thought he was sh**ting at me.

It was self-defense.

You expect me to believe that?

It's the truth.

Now, think, Mona.

Who in this town had reason
to want Ira k*lled?

I don't know.

Probably lots of people.

What made you come back here?

You think I'd help you?

Well, uh, could I at least
use your telephone?

You've used me enough.

I wish I'd never
set eyes on you.

♪♪

♪♪

Man, you've sure got
a lot of good folks

howling for your blood.

Relax. Hop in.

I'm on your side.

Which side is that?

You'll find out
when the time comes.

I don't know if I can trust you.

Well, I'm hardly in a position
to get you into any trouble.

You never can tell.

Tell me, uh...

what story was Tom O'Connor
digging up

when someone mistook him
for a deer

on property
belonging to your mother.

And to Lee Traherne.

Does that mean
he had something to hide?

Can't imagine what.

Unless it had something to do
with my old man's death.

How did he die?

Cattle stampede.

Best horseman in the county.

Fell off his horse
and got stomped.

Now, you believe that,
you'll believe anything.

What do you believe?

That he was helped
off his horse

by a sh*t from a r*fle.

Didn't the coroner
find the b*llet?

Seemed that nobody
told the coroner

to look for a b*llet.

And he's not a man
who will scratch

where it doesn't itch.

Well, I was away
at college at the time.

And when you came home?

I saw Lee Traherne
doing his best

to console my mother,
and I drew my own conclusions

that maybe he had something
to do with my father's death.

Did you tell your mother
what you thought?

That what you'd have done,
Mr. Mannix?

So you tipped off
Tom O'Connor instead.

Yeah.

And he went to the coroner.

He asked for the body
to be exhumed.

He even threatened to call
the state attorney general.

Well, later that afternoon,
by a remarkable coincidence,

he was found in the woods.

He seemed accidentally
to have leaned

against a b*llet going past.

And Ira Beecher
nobly took the fall.

Why?

Some people like money.

And why was Ira Beecher k*lled?

If he saw my father being sh*t,

now, that would be
worth good money.

Might have even
made him greedier

when he came out of jail
and the best he could get

was his old job back
and some extra pocket money.

Only... the only trouble was...

What?

My mother was the only person

who knew that I had talked
to a reporter.

You think she helped Traherne
all along?

You're going to have to make it
on your own from here in.

Sheriff's car
is right behind us.

Now, look, when he pulls up
on my side,

I'll slow down and you jump.

You ready?

Ready.

Okay, here he comes.

Go.

♪♪

Mona, please.

Ain't you brought me
enough grief already?

Mona, I don't know
who else can help me.

Tough.

I feel for you.

Mona, I think I have
a pretty good idea now

why certain people
needed Ira dead.

What do I care?

He was nothing to me anymore.

Wasn't he?

Don't you want to see
the people responsible

brought to justice?

By you?

If you help me.

I'm scared.

I don't have Ira anymore,
but I still have my life.

Mona, if those people
aren't put away,

you'll go on being scared,
and with good reason.

Al right.

What do you want to know?

Now, I think Tom O'Connor

was k*lled because he
was on to something.

And I think Ira was paid
to take the rap.

He always had a hard time
saying no to people.

Except to me.

Where was Ira
when Tom O'Connor was k*lled?

Do you know?

With me.

Why didn't you tell the police?

'Cause ...

I loved him and he told me
to keep my mouth shut.

Now I'm stuck with the lie.

If I talk,
they'll send me to jail.

Mona...

who paid Ira to take the rap?

If he got paid,
where's the money?

He sure didn't spend it on me
or on himself.

Uh, maybe they'll splurge it
on his funeral.

You said when Ira got out
of jail he had big plans.

Was he blackmailing somebody?

Why didn't you ask him
before you sh*t him?

Mona, it was a frame.

Whoever Ira was blackmailing
set me up to k*ll him.

To make it look
like a grudge k*lling.

No questions asked,
case closed.

I think you'd better go.

And keep right on going
until you get

as far as you can
from this town,

or we'll both end up like Ira
or that reporter.

Ira saw Old Man Bullard
get sh*t, didn't he?

Is that why he was
blackmailing Lee Traherne?

Ira was a born loser.

That's why him and me
were two of a kind.

Go out through
the bedroom window.

Turn right and keep running.

Thanks, Mona.

Mona! Open up.

Come on,
make it easy on yourself.

He's not in here.

No sign of him.

Mona, you're in
big trouble, baby.

I'd like to use your phone.

No.

It goes through the switchboard.

The operator would know
you're calling from my house.

There's a pay phone
at the bus stop.

Thanks.

Only do me one favor.

Don't come back.

♪♪

Operator.

Operator,
I want to call Los Angeles.

-double- , double- .

Hello.

I have a collect call
from Santa Marta.

A Mr. Joe Mannix.

I'll accept
the charges, Operator.

Joe.

Peggy.

Joe, do you know
what time it is?

And where are you?

I've been trying
to reach you all day.

Now listen:

Call Art Malcolm,
tell him I'm in Santa Marta.

I'm being hunted.

I've been framed for m*rder.

What?!

Well, what about
the local police?

For all I know,
they're in on it.

I'll call Art right away.

{cocks g*n

Mannix,
your three minutes are up.

Kirk, I'm...
I'm worried about you.

You've been acting
so odd lately.

Have ?

There is nothing wrong here.

All right, yes, yes,
your father d*ed.

But you still belong here.

The only difference is that now

you have a mother
and a stepfather

who love you and want you here.

I don't want you to forget that.

How could ?

Then why have you been acting
so strangely,

as if...
as if you were harboring

heaven knows what--
some guilty secret.

What might that guilty
secret be, Mother?

How could I know?

Maybe there isn't any secret.

Of course there isn't.

As far as I know.

I suppose this is just
an adolescent bid

for attention on your part.

A cry for love.
Exactly.

How did anybody ever get along
before they invented psychology?

Leave it alone, Kirk.

Do you hear me?

I hear you.

Darling...

it's infinitely flattering

for a mother to know
that her son still loves her.

But this... this jealousy
of my new husband,

this distrust...

I don't know how to explain it,
except that it's unhealthy.

Yes, Mother.

Kirk, you are
a very disturbed young man.

You going
to have me put away?

Is this the shortcut
to the sheriff's office?

The sheriff ll
turn up when we want him.

First, my wife and |
would like to know

why you'd come all this way

just to k*ll some poor little
fella, fresh out of jail.

Now move.

This way.

Seems we have company.

Kirk, you're excused.

Kirk!

Coffee?

I understand you found the man
that you were after.

He did better than that, honey.

He k*lled him.

The sheriff's looking for him
all over the place.

Well, then why did
you bring him here?

I thought you might
like to talk to him first.

Why?

He seems to have some doubts

about the, uh, naturalness
of Mr. Bullard's death.

Well, he's quite right.

It was an unnatural death.

My late husband
was a superb horseman.

Mr. Mannix harbors the notion
that Mr. Bullard was sh*t.

And that Mr. O'Connor,
the reporter, found out,

so naturally, we had
to get rid of him as well.

And Ira Beecher.

You were the one
that called me in L.A.

pretending to be Beecher,
booby-trapped my office,

all to get me up here
to k*ll him for you

after he started
blackmailing you.

It almost worked, too.

Oh, and that g*n
with the blanks-- neat touch.

My!

We are desperate characters...

aren't we?

But what would make
poor Ira Beecher so anxious

to take full responsibility
for Mr. O'Connor's death?

Is it possible, Mr. Mannix, that
maybe he had something to hide?

I guess you made it worth
his while or thought you had.

Maybe he saw something
he figured was worth more money

than he'd been promised.

And what might that have been?

The sh**ting of Mr. Bullard.

But Mr. Bullard wasn't sh*t.

We'll know that
when his body is exhumed.

On whose authority?

Well, not your sheriff's.

I know you've got
a leash on him.

But I don't think you'll be able

to pay off the State Attorney
General's Office.

Mr. Mannix,
your unfortunate profession

has given you a warped view
of the human soul.

I don't think
I like you very much.

And if you'll excuse me,
I have many things to do.

Mrs. Traherne...

when your, uh,
husband caught me,

I was on the phone
to my secretary.

Very soon there'll be someone
here from the state police,

someone who's not
in your pocket.

Is that true?
Did he get to make a call?

He may have gotten through.

I'm not sure.

Well, then, it's obvious
what has to be done.

That's what I figured.

I do love you, darling.

Help!.

Straight ahead and to your left!

Get him!

Don't you sh**t him
unless you have to!

Let the sheriff do it!

♪♪

We got a call from L.A.

Any sign of Mannix yet?

State Highway Patrol.
Identify yourself.

My name is Mannix.

The man following me
is trying to k*ll me.

All right, let's go.

Your father loved this place.

Take care of it.

Well, I guess
it's up to you, Kirk.

Yeah.