08x22 - Design for Dying

[bunniefuu]

♪♪

Mannix?
That's right.

I'm Darrell Bigelow.

Yeah, I know.

Why here, Mr. Bigelow?

Why not at your paper?

I couldn't have it known that |
was hiring a private detective.

This matter must be
absolutely confidential.

Fair enough.

The owner of this carousel
owes me a... favor or two,

so we're assured
of absolute privacy.

Except for your, uh...

Employees.

They can be trusted.

What's the job, Mr. Bigelow?

I want you to find my wife.

How long has she been missing?

She disappeared a week ago.

Her name is Rebekah.

You think she
might have been kidnapped?

No. Well, there'd
have been some word by now.

Has she ever, uh,
"disappeared” before?

I want you to find her
and bring her back, Mr. Mannix.

She's my wife...

and I love her.

Of course.

There is
another aspect to consider,

a selfish one, perhaps.

My friends in politics
have tested the waters.

They say the temperature's
just right

for me to wade in and, uh,

become a candidate
for elective office.

Now, any hint of a scandal...

Scandal?

You think she may be
with another man?

Well...

last summer...

Rebekah met someone.

Who is he?

You might say he was a...

a professional boat bum.

What was his name?

I don't know.

Rebekah told me a little
about him when she...

came home.

I realize now
that she wasn't over

whatever attraction
he had for her,

and my instinct
leads me to believe that...

she may be with him again.

I want her back, Mr. Mannix.

You'll find her for me?

I'll do what I can.

Uh, this should be enough
to get you started.

Very generous.

There's one other thing,
Mr. Mannix.

My wife means more to me
than any political career.

Naturally.

♪♪

Hello, Tom.

Hi, Joe.
You look b*at.

Yeah, well, I've
been checking on marinas

up and down the coast all day,
plus a few motels.

Who are you chasing?
A married woman,

cheating on her husband
with some... boat bum.

Take your pick.

Maybe half of those boats
have a gal onboard

who should be home
cooking the old man's dinner.

Hey, you, uh,
seen this one around?

Down here?

I don't think I'd recognize her
if she was my sister. Yeah.

Cheating wives wear wigs

and shades the size
of headlamps, Joe.

You get to know the look.

You think I'm wasting
my time, huh?

I hate to say so.

Well, thanks, Tom.
Okay.

Say hello to Mary.
I will.

♪♪

Joe, there's
a seedy-looking character

inside waiting for you.

Says he's got something
that you want.

Yeah, what's he selling?

Something to do
with the Bigelow woman.

Well, thanks
for keeping him warm.

You Mannix?

That's right.

Who are you?

The name's Gabriel.

I take pictures for a living.

And what's that got to do
with Rebekah Bigelow?

I heard you were
looking for her.

And where'd you hear that?

Desk clerk at the Dolphin Motel.

Well, that's funny.
I talked to him earlier today.

He said he knew nothing
about Mrs. Bigelow.

You should have
laid on some bread.

The guy's hungry.

Which probably goes
for you, too, right?

Correct.

About one large bill
would do it.

Uh, with two zeros on it.

Oh, really?
Yeah.

And what would I be paying for?

A picture of the Bigelow dame
with her boyfriend

taken just three days ago
at the Dolphin.

Interested?

Interested.

But I'd have to see it first.

Hmm.

Who's the guy?

That's your problem, Mannix.
I only take the pictures.

How did you get this?

Caught them when
they weren't looking.

You just happened to be there?

I smell the action when dames
like Rebekah Bigelow

jump the tracks.

Why didn't you take this
to Bigelow himself?

Too scary, man.

Bigelow's a big wheel,
publishes a newspaper.

Could make trouble.

Do we deal, Mannix?

Yeah, we deal.

That's what I like to hear.

If the picture checks out.

♪♪

Hi.

Remember me?
I was here yesterday.

A lot of people go in
and out of this place.

I had a talk
with your friend Gabriel.

Gabriel?

Yeah, he said you were just
crazy about the color green.

It's hard times, mister.

Four kids with a sweet tooth,
and sugar the way it is.

Uh, this couple still
registered here?

How much you putting
in the candy jar?

You know, I was
wondering, uh, you and Gabriel

wouldn't be running a shakedown
racket around here, would you?

Oh, you know, photographs,
anonymous calls to wives afraid

of getting caught, letters
to husbands-- things like that.

The police...

My friends, the police--

They'd love to bust
a racket like that.

Now, what about this couple?

They checked out the day
before yesterday.

Going where?

They didn't tell me,
and I didn't ask.

How did they register?
Mr. and Mrs. Vince Larkin.

Now, you must have
a list of the phone calls

they made on their bill.

I'd like to see them.

Now, look, mister.

Gabriel takes the pictures.

What he does with 'em later,
I don't care and I don't know.

I just let him hang
around here with his camera.

Yeah, sure, I know,
you're a model citizen.

Uh, this phone call
they made to Palm Springs.

You mind dialing it for me?

That's a long-distance phone
call. Charge it to Gabriel.

Mabel.

Get me Palm Springs.

- .

Good afternoon.

Desert Lights Hotel.

Oh, thank you, uh,
that's all I wanted to know.

Oh, by the way, uh,

there's a fellow out there
behind the potted plant.

He'll probably follow me
when I leave here.

Tell him I'm going
to the Desert Lights Hotel

in Palm Springs, huh?

Mr. and Mrs. Larkin checked out
early this morning.

Without leaving a forwarding
address, I'll bet.

You called it.

Hey, you mind if I take a look
at the suite they were in?

Sir, that suite rents
for $ a day.

I'll take about
minutes' worth.

.

Thanks.

I beg your pardon, senor.

You have taken these rooms?

For a little while.

Well, I will fix the bed.

Oh, no, that's not necessary.

I won't be sleeping here.

You are paying
not to sleep here?

Well, you see, I'm, uh...

well, I'm sort of
a detective, senora.

¢Un oficial?

A policeman?

Well, that's close.

I'd like to know
about the couple

that occupied
this suite last night.

You saw them?

Oh, Si, sefnor.
La senora...

she was muy Bonita,
muy simpatica,

but ay, ay, ay,
how they fight with each other!

You heard them?

Oh, Si, señor.

From my little laundry room
where I work down the hall.

I could hear them...
écomo se dice?

Screaming.

Senora-- she say
that she would not live

like a poor woman with any man

who did nothing with his life
except drink and sail a boat.

And after that, he say
that he was going alone

to his house in fa pf a ya...

Uh, uh... uh, at Topanga.

Well, uh, muchas gracias,
señora.

Oh, por nada, senor.
Hey, if you don't mind,

I'd like to leave this radio on
for a minute.

I'm sorry, senor, we are not...

It's all right.
It's been paid for.

Mrs. Bigelow?

Now, it's all right,
Mrs. Bigelow.

Nobody's gonna hurt you.

Your husband hired me
to find you.

My name is Mannix.

He tried to k*ll me.

Who?

Vince. Vince Larkin.

Can I get you anything?

Oh, yes, pl-please,

could... could I have
a glass of water

and-and my purse? Oh.

Oh... God.

Why did Larkin b*at you?

Because I told him
we were finished.

Have you any idea
where Larkin went?

Oh, he... he has a boat.

That's all he cares about--
his boat.

A catamaran?

Yes.

Well, it's beached outside.

Where else could he have gone?

Oh, I don't know.

I don't know. I don't care.

I just want to be
rid of him. Forever.

I just...

I want to feel clean again.

I'll, uh, take you home.

Do you think Darrell
would let me come home?

Do you want to go?

More than anything.

Then I think he will.

♪♪

♪♪

I'm sorry, darling.

For everything I've done.

To you and to myself.

Well, the important thing is,
you're home.

It will never happen again.

I swear it.

Now, there's no need
to grovel, Rebekah.

A husband's responsible
for what his wife does.

I'd like it if you kissed me.

It's not necessary.

Thank you, Mr. Mannix.

You'll find a check
in the morning mail.

Okay, Joe, what's the matter?

I don't know.

I got a feeling
a whole lot of people

have been doing a whole lot
of lying to me. Why?

Oh, Joe, leave it alone.

Mrs. Bigelow's back in the nest,

your fee is in the bank,
and it's over.

Yeah, well,
it was just too easy.

I picked up
all the right marbles.

It was a setup--

All the way to the beach house
and Rebekah Bigelow.

Joe, the lady was beaten up.

Yeah, I know. Beaten up and all,
it still doesn't make sense.

Now, why...
why couldn't I make a move

without that chauffeur
being on my tail?

Yeah, and that chambermaid
at the Desert Lights Hotel.

She couldn't have heard a thing
in that laundry room.

Joe, let it be.

Spend the money
on something nice--

like me, for instance.

Flowers, candy.

That's it.

Why, thank you.

Now, take a look
at this picture.

The flowers--
look at the flowers.

Roses.

Yeah, in bloom.

Joe, roses have a habit
of blooming every year.

Yeah, but not all year-round.

Now, Gabriel said
he took this picture

three days ago at the Dolphin.

Now, I saw that rosebush.

There wasn't a blossom on it.

So this picture with Larkin
in Mrs. Bigelow's arms

must have been taken months ago.

What's going on, Joe?

I don't know.
Blackmail? A fast shuffle?

All I know for sure
is that Gabriel,

the photographer,
has to be in on it.

Oh, Joe, so he did take
the picture some months ago.

Maybe this is the first chance
he's had to shop it.

He's peddling a hot item.
Why wait?

I mean, the affair could be
dead, like that rosebush.

So what's the answer?

Find Larkin.

Yeah, I thought that darn fool
Larkin must have wanted

to commit su1c1de to take
his cat out on a day like this.

Wind's down now, but earlier
it was howling up a storm.

Then what happened, Mr. Brady?

Well, I saw Larkin going out
through the breakers

from my house right over there.

And, then, uh, out a ways,

the boat capsized, and he went
overboard into the water.

|-I tried to reach him,
but I couldn't fight that surf.

Any sign of the body?

No, not so far,
but they're looking.

Hey, I'm colder
than a shrimp on ice.

How about knocking off?

Okay. Thank you, Mr. Brady.

Well, there you have the story
of Vince Larkin,

who, on a blustery morning,

started to take
his catamaran out...

Oh!

Now, that's a dangerous toy.

Now, who the hell are you?

The name is Mannix.
I'm a private investigator.

Thanks.

What do you want here?

I was looking for Vince Larkin.

Oh.

Try the ocean.
He's out there somewhere.

You, uh, related to Larkin?

Related?

That's a laugh.

I'm Maggie Larkin.

His wife?

Well, I ain't his sister.

Yeah.

You want a belt?
No, thanks.

Look, I'm sorry.

About Vince?
Mm-hmm.

Don't be.
I'm not gonna miss him.

When did you last see
your husband?

Seven months ago?

Divorced?

The kind of marriage I had,

you couldn't tell
the difference.

What brought you back here?

I got tired waiting table
in hamburger joints.

I needed money.

Vince had it.

I thought he was broke.

He had it.

A lot?

Enough.

And you wanted your share?

Hey, a wife's entitled,
isn't she?

Mmm.

Have you, uh, ever seen this?

Rebekah Bigelow.

You know her?

What was I supposed
to be, surprised?

I've seen that picture before.

That and some others
a lot more interesting.

With Mrs. Bigelow?

With Mrs. Bigelow.

When?

Last summer.

How, uh, interesting were
these other pictures?

Hmm...

Well, I'll tell you.

It was a hot Fourth of July,

but nowhere near as hot
as those little snapshots

Vince tucked away
in his pocket. Hmm.

And what happened then?

He split.

Where?

How do I know?
He walked out, left me flat.

Was he going to blackmail
Darrell Bigelow?

Sure, he was.

I'll bet he paid plenty.

Did you ever contact Bigelow?

Once.

When?

Ten days ago in his office.

Why?

I told you,
I got tired slinging hash.

I mean, she stole Vince
from me, didn't she?

I got abandoned.

Her husband owed me something.

And what did Bigelow say?

Ugh. He never heard of Vince.

He sat there behind
that big desk like...

like maybe I crawled
out of the woodwork.

He scared me.

He isn't the scaring type.

Well, he scared me, buster.

Mm. Now, look, uh, suppose
I find Vince for you?

What's that, a joke?
No.

Vince is dead.

Well, I'm not sure.

Ask the sharks.

I intend to, Maggie.

♪♪

Gabriel!

Who is it?
Joe Mannix.

I'm busy.
Well, I want to talk to you.

Some other time, Mannix. Blow!
Hey, Gabriel, baby,

come on out of there, or I'm
gonna come in and drag you out.

Okay, you're asking
for it, Mannix.

This pan is full of acid.

Put it down.

Know where you can buy
a Seeing Eye dog?

Now, Gabriel, you make
another move with that

and you're gonna be drinking it.

Easy, huh?

What do you want?

Some answers.

Now, this picture was, uh,
taken last summer,

not last week.

So?

So, Vince Larkin took this,

and some other incriminating
snapshots

to the Bigelows last July.

It was a blackmail caper,
and you were in on it.

I want those other pictures.

I don't know anything
about them.

Uh-huh. Oh,
why do I waste my time?

Ah, just call the police, and...

have them search the place.

Okay, okay!

Why hustle me?
You found the Bigelow dame.

Ah, too easy.

And got paid a lot of bread.
Too much.

Well, you're not pinning
a blackmail rap on me.

All I did was a job
for Vince Larkin.

He wanted pictures,
I took them.

Where?

At the Dolphin.

At Larkin's beach house
in the bedroom.

How?

He cut a peephole
in the closet door.

Cute.

Now, those other pictures.

There's the roll I sh*t.

Let's see. You're a real artist.

The light wasn't too good.
Mm.

Look, my end of the deal
was a flat fee.

A guy wants pictures
of his own action, okay.

I don't ask why.

What the guy does
with them is his business.

I'm just a camera.

Don't be coy.

You knew Vince Larkin
was going to use these

to blackmail Mrs. Bigelow.

Maybe I did.
Maybe I guessed he was.

All I know is,
I got shortchanged.

I never got dime one
out of the job.

Larkin came here,
picked up the roll,

said he'd pay me in a week
or so, and then disappeared.

When was that?

July . I remember it

'cause it was after the weekend
of the Fourth.

Okay, now the negatives.

You know, the stuff's mine.
I paid for the raw stock.

Uh-uh. They belong to Bigelow,

and I'm going to see
that he gets them.

At least you don't have
to pay five bucks

to go to an X-rated movie.

Mr. Mannix, ma'am.

Sit down.

Oh, would you care for a drink?

No, thank you.

Well, your call came
as a surprise.

Was there some particular reason
you wanted to see me?

I needed some information.

About what?

A day last summer--
July seventh.

I thought
you might be able to tell me

what happened on that day.

Oh, I am so stupid about dates.

Did something happen last summer
on July the seventh?

Vince Larkin brought
some pictures to your house.

Oh.

Did you see them?

Professionally.

Where are they?

b*rned.
I still have the negatives.

Why didn't you burn
the negatives, too?

When I have the information
I need.

What information?

Vince Larkin came to your house

on July seventh
to blackmail you, didn't he?

Oh, blackmail.

Oh, how can I make you
understand?

Vince brought those here
to show them to me.

He was very vain, you know.

He wanted to turn me on,
or to horrify me.

I scarcely know which.

But he certainly didn't...

demand money from me,
or from Darrell.

Where was your husband?

At the office, I suppose.

And he never saw the pictures?

Well, of course not.

Do you think
I would have allowed...?

Oh, wait a minute.
I just remembered.

Darrell wasn't at the office.

An old friend of his,
a typesetter, had just d*ed.

He'd helped Darrell
start the newspaper.

Darrell was making arrangements
for the funeral.

What was the typesetter's name?

What difference does it make?

Well, I like
all the pieces to fit

when I'm working on a puzzle.

And they don't?

Well, I think they will
when I find Vince Larkin.

Find him?

You mean
you're still looking for him?

That's right.

But Vince is dead!

How can you look for a dead man?

Nobody's found the body.
That worries me.

Doesn't it worry you?

Mrs. Bigelow.

I finally located
your undertaker.

A Mr. Hallihan.

And did he handle it?

Yes. He buried your typesetter.

The name on the headstone read
Ezekial Tanner.

Mr. Bigelow paid for it all.

Mm-hmm. When was he buried?

Mr. Tanner was laid to rest
the eighth of July

at the Oak Manor Cemetery.

Any family?

No, and no viewing.

Closed coffin.

Mr. Hallihan said
that Mr. Bigelow said

that Mr. Tanner wasn't a man
to stand on ceremony.

Mm.

Oh, and another thing, too, Joe.

I checked the file, but
there's no death certificate.

Well, I think
I can tell you why.

Why?

Because Ezekial Tanner d*ed

in a home for the aged

just outside of Tucson, Arizona,
July seventh.

I picked this up out of
the morgue of Bigelow's paper.

It's, uh, Tanner's obit.

What does it all mean, Joe?

It means I can stop chasing
around after Vince Larkin.

Do you know where he is?

Mm-hmm.

Is he alive?

No, no, no, no,
he's dead, all right,

but not out in the Pacific.

Now, I think
somebody k*lled Vince Larkin

and buried him
as old Ezekial Tanner.

You wanted to see me?

Mr. Hallihan?

Has someone important
to you passed over?

You might say that, yes.

It's always sad, and yet death
is a part of life, isn't it?

That's very comforting.

You're interested
in purchasing a casket?

Well, let's say that, I'm, uh,
interested in a casket.

Uh, this is our finest model.

Finest pillow
that money can buy.

Thick down, covered in satin,
as is the entire casket.

It's very cozy.

I understand you service
the Bigelow family

whenever
the sad occasion occurs.

Yes, indeed.
A real gentleman, Mr. Bigelow.

As a matter of fact,
he helped start the firm.

Hmm.

Why do you ask?

My name is Mannix.

I'm a private investigator.

Oh, yes.

Your secretary called
in reference to Ezekial Tanner.

That's right.

And you represent?

The widow of the deceased.

Mr. Tanner, sir,
was over years old

and a bachelor.

Yes. Well, uh...

the widow I had in mind
can't be a day over ,

and, uh, had nothing to do
with Mr. Tanner.

I understand
Mr. Bigelow took care of all

of the funeral arrangements?

Well, he had the body shipped
from Arizona.

Suppose I wanted Mr. Tanner's
remains exhumed?

Exhumed?

What is the usual procedure?

Uh, well, Mr. Bigelow
is the responsible party.

You would need
his written consent

and a legal order from
the District Attorney's office.

But let me remind you,
Mr. Mannix,

the procedure is not usual.

The dead deserve
to rest in peace.

Oh.

Well, I'll do my best

not to disturb Mr. Tanner
too much.

Joe, I'm bushed.
I want to go home.

Forget about Larkin.
You're just guessing.

Art, I'm not guessing.

Vince Larkin was m*rder*d.

He's fish bait.
Brady saw him.

His boat capsized.
Oh, come on, Art.

Brady's playing a record
he was paid to play.

Prove it.
Dig up Tanner, and I will.

Exhuming a body's
a serious matter.

What, do you want me to go
to the DA with a hunch?

He'll burn my tail.

Look, suppose
I get Bigelow's written consent?

Okay. You get Bigelow's consent
on paper...

...and I'll carry the ball.

Oh, you're beautiful, Art.

Malcolm. Yeah, hold on. Joe?

It's for you.

Who is it?

I don't know. Some woman.

Hello.

This is Maggie Larkin, Mannix.

Your secretary
gave me this number.

I-I thought you should know

that, uh, Vince's body washed
ashore about an hour ago.

You sure?

Oh, it's Vince, all right.

Who found him?

Boy on the beach.

He called the lifeguard station,

and they brought the body
to the house.

Some men from the sheriff's
station are on the way.

I'll be right there.

All right?

Fine.

You said $ , .

I said .

And you get lost.

Okay.

This time forever.

That a promise?

Mm-hmm.

Let the tide take her out.

Maggie?

He's Darrell Bigelow's
chauffeur, Art.

He goes by the name of Hobie.

All right. I'll put out an APB,

but I've got to have a charge.

For openers,
try aggravated as*ault.

What about Larkin's wife?

Well, I'm not sure.
The house was empty.

She could be gone...

Or?
Dead.

Well, fine.
Now we got two missing bodies.

Look, Art,
I still need that order

to exhume Ezekial Tanner's body
tomorrow.

Did you get Bigelow's consent?

I'm going after it now.

You can start greasing
the wheels.

Mr. Mannix.

Mrs. Bigelow.

Well, this is a surprise.

Don't you ever sleep?

What happened to you?

A little fun at the beach.

Mr. Mannix.

What are you doing here
at this hour?

Mr. Bigelow,
I'd like your consent

to exhume the body
of Ezekial Tanner.

Zeke Tanner?

Why?

I think someone else
was buried in his grave.

Well, now, that's absurd.

I saw to Zeke's burial myself.

Who else could be buried there?

Vince Larkin.

You don't really believe that?

By, uh, what authority
do you make this request?

The police know I'm here,
but I need your written consent.

I don't understand this.

And I must confess
I don't like it at all.

Meaning you won't cooperate.

Oh, I'll cooperate.
Darrell?

Rebekah,
we must do what's right.

But I'm telling you this...

that if this exhumation
comes to nothing,

you haven't heard
the last from me.

Now, come along,

I'll get you
that written consent.

Oh, by the way,
is your chauffeur around?

Oh, Hobie?

He quit yesterday.

These are the remains
of a very old man.

Upwards of .

Well, Joe, Bigelow has already
called the commissioner.

He's gonna have your hide.

Yeah, I know.

Okay, Joe,
so you made a mistake.

You've had hours
to let it simmer.

Now let's go on to bigger
and better things.

I still say Larkin's
not in the ocean.

I think it was staged
to make everybody believe it.

Then where is he?

That's the big question.

I'll see you in the morning.

Well, here use this.

If you're gonna brood,
might as well be comfortable.

Good night, Joe.

That's it.

What did I do this time?

Pillow. There was no pillow
in Tanner's coffin.

Maybe Hallihan
was trying to cut costs.

Or maybe he was burying two
for the price of one.

Or maybe Vince Larkin's got the
lower berth in a two-man coffin.

Yes?

Mrs. Bigelow? Joe Mannix.

Mr. Mannix,
haven't you bothered us enough?

Rebekah...

I'll take this call.

Mannix, I'm warning you.

I've already spoken
to the authorities.

Mr. Bigelow, I want your consent

to dig up Ezekial Tanner's
body again.

You must be insane.

Do I have your consent?

Absolutely not.

I guess I'll have
to dig it up myself.

Tonight.

But why?

Because I think Vince Larkin's
buried in that coffin, too.

Malcolm.

Sure too bad, Art.

What's too bad?

That you're not going
to be able to go home

and get a good night's sleep.

Why can't ?

Because I'm going
to the cemetery

to dig up Ezekial Tanner's
corpse again.

Joe, you must be crazy.

That's what Bigelow said.

I'll have to stop you.

The commissioner's going
to lift your license.

Look, Art, a deal.

If I don't deliver
Vince Larkin's corpse to you,

and Vince Larkin's m*rder*r,
you can throw the book at me.

♪♪

Freeze!

Yeah, well, you better get
that coffin up again.

There are two bodies in it
and one of them is Larkin.

This is a nice little
get-together you arranged.

Yeah, thanks for showing up,
Art.

There are still a couple
of missing guests.

Yes, sir?

Is Mrs. Bigelow in?

Just a moment, please.

Mrs. Bigelow, Mr. Mannix.

Show him in, Martha.

Yes, ma'am.

Mrs. Bigelow,
I hope I'm not disturbing you.

No, not at all.
I couldn't sleep.

I've been waiting for Darrell
to come home.

Well, I wouldn't wait up
too long.

Why not?

He's probably
at the police station.

Police headquarters?

Being booked for the m*rder
of Vince Larkin.

Can |, uh, pour you a drink?

Please.

I suppose you found
Vince's body.

Yes.

In Tanner's coffin.

Where your husband arranged
to hide it.

Darrell didn't arrange it.

I did.

With Hallihan?
Yes.

I don't believe you,
Mrs. Bigelow.

Darrell didn't k*ll
Vince Larkin, I did.

Last July when he came to the
house with those awful pictures,

and it wasn't the money.

I would have gladly paid him
his blackmail.

But I knew Vince better
than that.

I knew nothing would stop him.

That sooner or later
the scandal would destroy

what... what Darrell wanted most
in his life--

A political career.

I'd already done enough to him.

I couldn't let him suffer
that, too.

What about Maggie Larkin?

Oh, she should have been
satisfied

with what she got
the first time she came,

but she wanted more.

So she came back.

That was very stupid of her.

Why did your husband hire me?

That's obvious, isn't it?

Yeah.

You were staging Vince Larkin's
second death,

and you needed me to confirm it.

Yes.

That took a lot of cooperation.

Darrell is not without
influence.

He has helped many people

who would do anything they could
to repay him.

They simply said
what he told them to say.

Mmm. And I'm sure he made it
well worth their while.

Well, of course.

He was trying to protect me.

Mrs. Bigelow, I'm afraid
I still don't believe you.

Well, damn you, believe it.

I k*lled Vince Larkin.

It's no use, Rebekah.

It won't work.

You mustn't listen to her,
Mr. Mannix.

Rebekah couldn't k*ll anyone.

I k*lled Larkin,
right here in this library.

July seventh.

And I assure you,
he deserved it.

No, no, Darrell,
don't-don't say any more.

Darling,
you don't owe me anything.

I take it the police didn't
find you at your paper?

I heard them arriving.

The only miscalculation,
my dear, was hiring Mr. Mannix.

And that was my fault.

Why didn't you just
take your money and go away?

Somehow I don't like being used.

Well, now,
there's no need to worry, dear.

They can't touch us.

Why, because you own
a newspaper?

You have power?

Well, it helps.

Two people are dead,
Mr. Bigelow.

Crime, Mr. Mannix,

is just another news item
to a newspaper.

Good copy.

Sometimes it even makes
the headlines.

See you on the front page.