02x26 - Not with a Whimper, But a Bang

[bunniefuu]

The Macabre Mr. Micawber.

Those of us of his staff, most notably
Officer Whitfield here.

At other times, Chief Ironside has
employed the services of, variously,

a very small boy named Bobby, a police dog
named Mike, and a myna bird named Macawber.

To many people, the policeman appears in the role
of, of adversary, both in its literal and legal meaning.

This is not true.

It is not the objective of the police to
prosecute any citizen.

It is our objective to obtain evidence of a crime and
to compile such evidence in a manner directed by...

Excuse me, sir, this is urgent.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

We have to get these people out of here.

Ladies and gentlemen, due to unforeseen
circumstances, I shall have to cut short my remarks.

I trust you will excuse us.

Please clear the building immediately, please.

Immediately.

Thank you.

We'll let you know in just a few minutes.

Get on the phone.

Call the military b*mb disposal squad and
tell them to get here as soon as possible.

We have a b*mb?

Ready to blow any time.

Could be here, it could be there.

The Big Bang could be anywhere.

But when the clock tower sounds its bell,
it could be your summons to dwell in hell.

The.

Main hall, they're running a search now.

Okay.

Sergeant, let's move it.

I'm having trouble with these nuts.

I wonder about you, Sergeant.

Didn't I tell you to check these suits?

How long does it take you to carry out an order?

Sorry, Mr. Citizen, it won't happen again, sir.

That's not the answer, Sergeant.

I'm talking about some of you old sweats.

I think you don't think discipline applies to you.

Discipline, Sergeant.

Military discipline is that state of
training and obedience that makes for

immediate carrying out of all orders of
all lawful superiors.

Yes, sir.

Very good, Sergeant.

All right, let's go.

Did you get the chief?

No answer.

Keep trying.

All right.

Frank, Artie.

What have we got, Sergeant?

We don't know yet.

If we don't turn it up in eight more
minutes, we'll pull out.

What are you doing here?

Sir, I'm Neil Morgan, editor of the campus choir.

Get out of here.

Just a minute.

No time for arguments.

Move.

Move.

I have a right to be here.

All right, get out or I'll run you in.

Come on, Neil, let's go.

Come on.

Over here.

In the drill.

That looks like it.

Okay, it's all yours.

Let's clear the area.

Cheers!

Sorry you missed all the fun.

Yeah, there aren't many phone booths on that trial screen.

Hey, this one calls it a student prank.

Yeah, some prank.

Don't they realize that prank tied up a number of police
as well as scaring the daylights out of a lot of people?

Gee, if you gotta admit, it's pretty funny.

Two guys covered with talcum.

h*, h*, h*.

Oh, Neil Morgan edits the school paper.

Good morning.

Good morning, Mr. Morgan.

Mr. Morgan, do you have an appointment?

Sir, this is a public office.

As a member of the press, I am entitled to... You're
entitled to observe the common rules of courtesy.

And when I'm ready to issue a statement,
I'll see to it that you're informed.

Good day.

Now, just a minute, sir.

I'm here to help.

How?

My assistant, Ms. Henderson, and I have
been up half the night assembling data.

Good morning.

Is that your data?

Yes, sir.

I take it you don't consider last night's
incident to be funny?

Anything but funny, sir.

I think it was more of a warning than anything else.

What kind of warning?

That it would be just as easy to plant a
real b*mb as a dummy?

Now, why would anyone want to plant a b*mb on the campus?

Everybody knows what's been going on at school, sir.

Well, a militant left-wing minority has been trying to
close down classes since the beginning of the term.

It's all there, sir.

Clips from the campus daily, as well as
the local papers and wire service reports.

Ironsides.

Chief.

Eve.

Thank you very much, Mr. Morgan.

Thank you.

What have you got, Eve?

Chief, Warrant Officer Simpson here.

Thank you.

Good morning, Chief.

We've got a real Rube Goldberg this time.

Would you explain that, Mr. Simpson?

It's a spring-activated gizmo connected to a timing device.

The timer activates the Springs at the
same time it sets off a penny torpedo.

You know, the kind they used to sell for fireworks.

And what kind of workmanship went into it?

Well, it's a pretty complicated device.

I'd say somebody knew his bench mechanics
to put it together so it would work.

Thank you.

Let me talk to Eve.

Yes, Chief?

Might as well come in, Eve.

If the Army's through with...
Get that device, bring it along.

Yes, sir.

I'm to take the device back to
headquarters if you're through with it.

What about it, Vernon?

That's it.

I'm going as far as I can go.

Goodbye, and thank you.

Drop in any time.

Class.

How are you?

You like anything.

Is that a crack, Sergeant?

Just a passing remark.

Ah.

Ah.

Uh, how long have you been in the service, Sergeant?





To make Sergeant?

Phew.

Not what I'd call an outstanding record.

Oh, can't all be beavers.

Come back here, Sergeant.

I'm not through talking to you.

That's an order.

Hey, Frank, what's wrong with you?

What's wrong with me?

Yeah, what's wrong with you?

You've been on my back for six months.

I want to know why.

Sit down, Arnie.

You ever thought of transferring out of this unit?

What are you talking about?

I think the work's getting to you.

That's crazy.

I've been handling bombs for 18 years.

Maybe you've been handling them too long.

Everybody has a breaking point.

You're trying to tell me that I've lost my nerve?

No, nothing like that.

But you're reaching the point where your
nerve's gonna crack.

Listen, I've seen the signs before.

You missed details.

Like not having the ties on that armor fixed.

Big deal.

Little deal.

Very small deal.

But a symptom.

And someday you'll miss another small deal.

Only that time the balloon will go up and
take some other people along with it.

You're afraid to work with me, aren't you?

I didn't say that.

You didn't say a lot of other things, too.

What?

What are you talking about?

Like Darlene Hicks, for one.

Darlene?

Don't try to snow me, Frank.

I know you're chasing her.

Who needs to chase?

Blow on her ear and she'll follow you anywhere.

Easy.

Down, boy.

It's a year and a kick if you do.

You pulling rank on me, Simpson?

Okay, Sergeant.

I tried to tell you for your own good to transfer out.

You want to play it the hard way,
you'll get it the hard way.

That's all, Sergeant.

b*mb disposal, Warrant Officer Simpson speaking.

Yes, sir, we're rolling.

Some duds on the a*tillery range.

We've got to detonate them.

Let's move it.

Well?

Maybe Mr. Morgan has something.

Seems a little rabid on the subject of
student militants, wouldn't you say?

He must have something.

He wouldn't print names the way he does.

There are libel laws.

And you don't think it was a college prank?

I can't see anybody taking the time and effort to put
together a device with watchmaker precision just for laughs.

The lab drew a blank, Chief.

No fingerprints.

What about the b*mb container?

Cardboard, attaché case.

They sell them at the Five and Dime.

That leaves a note.

Ironside.

Just a moment.

It's Dean Morris at the college.

Good afternoon, Dean.

We'll be right there.

You've called b*mb disposal unit.

Tell Simpson to meet us at Building C.

Now, let's go.

Chief Ironside, the students and faculty are out, Chief.

This was delivered to my office 30 minutes ago.

Hickory dickory dock, there's something in the clock.

One, two, three, and up goes C.

How is that note delivered?

That note was slipped through the mail
slot in one of the outer offices.

By the time one of the secretaries noticed
it, whoever delivered it was long gone.

Well, if the note means things are due to
go up at three, it doesn't leave much time.

Chief?

Yeah?

Eve says the b*mb disposal unit's out in the field.

They're trying to reach him by radio
telephone, but so far no luck.

We'll evacuate the building.

Neil, we have to evacuate.

But this is news, Dean Morris.

Neil, this place is liable to blow up at any moment.

All right, you, out of here.

Oh, look, we searched every clock in the building.

We better leave, Mark.

It's a ridiculous doubt.

Something's in the clock.

You said something?

Clock, clock.

Dr. Morris.

Yes?

Is there any particular clock in this
building, something that would be known as

the clock, something everyone on campus would know about?

What about Professor Spencer's water clock?

Water clock?

Oh, it's a sort of a campus joke, Chief.

Spencer spent years perfecting it.

Where is it?

The third floor, Spencer's laboratory.

All right, Mark, move.

All right, get out of here.

I said get out of here.

Now, that's an order.

What are you going to do about it?

All right, be a blasted fool, Chief.

This isn't funny.

How does it work?

It's not supposed to tick, I can tell you that.

Put some water in that sink.

And throw me that stool.

It won't explode, will it?

Not unless some chemical genius has been at work.

That's household putty.

Glad b*mber struck again today.

But the only damage suffered was to the
nerves of the police and university officials.

An expl*sive device similar to the one
found in University Hall last night was

discovered today in a university science building.

Wow, what a gruesome sense of humor.

You say that again?

Who would do such rotten things?

There are a lot of creeps around campus.

The thing that bothers me is... Sooner or later, whoever's
playing these tricks may decide to plant a real b*mb.

For all practical purposes, this was a real b*mb.

What do you mean?

Whoever rigged up that dummy
used a fulminant... A fulminant?

A Mercury cap.

That's what caused the expl*si*n.

Dangerous?

I'll say.

One of them can blow your hand off.

Not this one.

Whoever did it removed most of the charge.

Wasn't any stronger than a Cannon cr*cker.

You didn't tell me that.

You didn't ask me.

From now on, you keep me informed.

Yes, sir, Mr. Simpson, sir.

Arnie, would you say that the man who made
this b*mb was familiar with expl*sives?

You bet he was.

Excuse me, Chief.

I got a date.

At ease, Sergeant.

Sergeant, you had a date.

You're pulling CQ tonight.

I pulled it last night.

And you've been getting pretty lippy so
you can pull it again tonight.

What are you waiting for?

A card for the chaplain to punch?

You can't do this to me.

It's against regulations.

R.H.I.P., Sergeant.

Ask any officer.

Good night, Chief.

R.H.I.P.?

Rank has its privileges.

Well, this kind of a thing could go too far.

Mark, would you make some coffee,
please, and turn on the news?

I wanted to look at the fights.

News?

R.H.I.P.

Like I said, this kind of a thing could be pushed too far.

Century.

Now, these big letters are 24-point.

Small ones are 18-point.

Now, the real small ones are regal, body
type, about, uh, oh, 8-point on a 9-point slot.

Now, that Century's a real nice type.

Pity it ain't being used much anymore.

Everybody's going for that modern sans-serif, skinny stuff.

It had no, no character to it.

Doesn't anybody use Century?

Oh, yeah.

Job shops use it to print up, uh,
old school papers, church papers.

Publications, things like that.

What can I do for you?

I'm Eve Whitfield.

That's nice.

Dean Morris sent me over for a tryout.

You're new here, aren't you?

I'm a transfer.

You ever work on a paper?

No.

Well, then the first thing you learn is not to
disturb an editor when he's getting out an edition.

Henderson?

This is a new tryout.

Whitfield, Henderson.

How do you do?

Nice to have you with us.

Sure, where we keep the pastebots.

What about pastebots?

Neil believes in breaking in tryouts as if
this was a big paper.

You start running copy.

You start filling pastebots.

If you hear anyone yell copy, just drop everything and run.

How soon can I have an analysis of the
paste used to attach the letters?

About an hour.



Rough, huh?

Is he always like this?

He takes things very seriously,
including militant activists.

I've been reading some of his editorials.

Neil doesn't believe a disorderly minority has
the right to spoil education for serious students.

Neil's worked very hard for his education.

He's older than most students.

He spent two years on a construction g*ng
in Alaska to earn enough money to come here.

You're very fond of him.

He's everything a man should be.

He fights for the things he thinks are right.

I just wish you wouldn't get so involved.

In what?

I better get back to work.

Copy.

Miss Whitfield.

I'm sorry.

Copy.

Yes.

Get this to the printer.

You and Blondie were having quite a talk.

About you.

You.

Don't tell her too much, huh?

Ordinary paste.

The kind anyone could mix in a kitchen.

Salt, flour, and water.

Doesn't give us very much to go on.

Not when you consider the number of kitchens in the area.

Come on, Angie.

We'll drop this off at the printer.

Whitfield, you finish up.

Finish up?

Clean the paste pots, wash the brushes, sharpen the pencils,
and see that every desk has a fresh supply of copy paper.

Is that all?

You wanted to be a newspaper woman, Whitfield.

This is how you start.

Good night.

Good night.

The.

Paste pots.

Wash the brushes.

Pencils.

Pencils.

Paper.

Pencils.

Please, this is an emergency.

This one came with that warning.

You think it's for real, Chief?

We'll find out soon.

See what kind of gag our fun-loving friend
cooked up this time.

Be careful, Frank.

This could be the real thing.

What I like about you, you're always
telling me things I already know.

Bingo.

I can't find the lead from the timer to the fuse.

Wait a minute.

Looks clear.

All right.

Here goes nothing.

Damn.

What?

Take a look at this.

Don't you get it?

That stuff is real.

Genuine 40% dynamite.

But it hasn't been fused.

What's happening?

Miss Whitfield found a package in your storage cabinet.

I might have expected it.

They were bound to get around to me sooner or later.

Whom do you mean when you say they?

The same militant leftists that have been
pulling all these other dumb stunts.

We're not at all sure that they are the
responsible parties.

Well, who else would want to blow up a newspaper office?

I suppose I should feel flattered.

Why did you come back to the office?

Why?

Yes, did you hear about the b*mb?

No, sir.

I was just coming back to ride my leader for tomorrow.

Harmless is a baby's rattle, Chief.

Bounce it, jump on it, even burn it.

What happens if batteries spark it?

Nothing, kid.

Dynamite needs an expl*si*n to set it off.

That takes a cap.

Here, I'll show you.

This is a fulminated Mercury cap.

Highly expl*sive.

You notice this end is hollow.

Your fuse is inserted, and the brass
casing crimped around it.

This end, the expl*sive end, is inserted in the dynamite.

The spark blows the cap, and that blows the charge.

I guess the b*mber goofed.

Or he may have meant this particular b*mb as a warning.

Well, hello, Arnie.

What brings you here?

Simpson sent me up about the dynamite.

Well, what about it?

We wouldn't have been tossing that around
like we did if we'd known how old it was.

The older that stuff gets, the touchier it
gets, and that stuff was old.

How you making out?

Well, you might say we're not.

We have a suspect.

Well, pick him up fast, will you, Chief?

It's not getting blown up that hurts.

It's waiting around for it to happen.

b*mb disposal, Warrant Officer Simpson.

I told you not to call me here.

Frank, you gotta get over here, like, right away.

What's wrong?

Dolly!

It's Arnie.

He's passed out in my place.

I gotta get to work.

I thought you...

I wasn't seeing him.

I mean, I didn't invite him here or anything.

He just showed up.

Honest, sweetie.

Look, he's loaded.

You gotta get him out of here.

Okay.

Okay.

I'll be there as fast as I can get
somebody on the duty desk.

Will you be quiet?

What, do you want to get me kicked out?

Quiet down.

Oh, honey.

What are you trying to do, cram me?

What happened?

You're up at Darlene's.

Oh, yeah?

I guess I got schnooken, huh?

You guess.

The poor kid got thrown out on account of you.

Well, I don't know.

I guess I'm sorry.

You guess.

I had to take her to a hotel.

How did you register, Mr. and Mrs.?

You ought to beat your brains off of that crack.

Oh, yeah?

Well, you want to try that?

Maybe tomorrow, huh?

You got a date.

One of you guys a warrant officer Simpson?

I'm Simpson.

Phone call.

They said it was urgent.

Keep your eye on him.

Warrant Officer Simpson speaking.

The Dean out at the college got another note.

A b*mb?

That's what it says.

Okay, we're rolling.

On your feet, drunk.

We just got another call.

Where?

The college.

They planted another b*mb.

Come on, move it.

Easy, easy.

Move it.

Watch it.

How do you feel?

I'm dying on the vine.

You're going to be a lot of help.

What do you mean?

Try me.

Try me.

Listen, I'll defuse this b*mb alone.

You get within 20 feet of where I'm
working and I'll k*ll you.

That's a promise.

All right.

Be a hero.

Just stay out of my way.

Where is it?

At the statue.

We just finished roping off the area.

Wait here.

Where is it spotted?

At the statue.

Stay back.

Give me the cutter.

This guy's in a rut.

He's alive.

Just barely.

What about Sgt.

Vernon?

Arnie, you all right?

Oh, my God.

I told him to be careful.

I told him this one could be for real.

Don't blame yourself.

I should have been with him.

I could have done something.

I could have spotted the rig, something.

Only I got drunk.

I'm still drunk.

In what way?

Doesn't fit the pattern.

The samples of paste obtained from the
first three messages are identical,

but different from that taken from the last b*mb threat.

Now this.

Letters on the right were cut out with scissors.

Those on the left show more angular cuts.

They might have been done with a razor blade.

And finally, we've got this.

The letters in the first three messages
were blank on the reverse sides.

These have type on them.

Then they could have been cut from any
regular edition of the paper.

That's right.

May I use your phone?

Be my guest.

The Glad b*mber became the Mad b*mber late tonight
when a dynamite b*mb exploded on the college campus.

Leo, what's wrong?

Listen.

Seriously injured in the blast was warrant officer
Frank Simpson of the Army b*mb Disposal Unit.

Simpson, 45 years old, veteran of 25 years military service,
was attempting to defuse the device when it exploded.

It can't be.

It doesn't make any sense.

It's impossible.

Neil, you?

You couldn't.

You didn't.

Neil Morgan, would you come with me, please?

We'd like to talk to you.

You'd better come, too, Miss Henderson.

Hey.

Henderson girl said Neil Morgan worked on construction.

I'll ask him.

We'll wire the state police, see if they
have anything on him.

I've talked to the Morgan boy.

He denies any knowledge of the crime.

How are you going to charge him, Bob?

Attempted m*rder.

m*rder won if Simpson dies.

Ben, I'll make a deal with you.

You know I can't make any deals with you.

What kind of deal?

You know.

I'll show you what I've got.

It'll be up to you to decide whether or
not your client should cooperate.

Well, the district attorney's going to love you.

Deal?

What kind of fool could turn down a deal like that?

All right, please.

The discs have established that the paste
used to secure cut-out letters to the

backing sheet is the same kind used in the
campus daily office.

The scissors used to cut out the letters
has had a small Nick at the tip of the blade.

We've compared the cut out edges of the letters with the
paper edges cut by scissors taken from Neil Morgan's desk.

All right.

Scissors might be the same.

What about capability, motive?

I received this telegram from the Alaska police in Juneau.

Subject Neil Morgan has been employed the past
three summers in various Alaska construction jobs.

His most recent position was as assistant powder man.

On construction of Golcanta Highway,
sincerely yours, now an assistant powder

man, would certainly be capable of handling expl*sives.

Motive?

Oh, read his editorials, Ben.

The campus daily, a constant stream of
fulmination against campus militants,

what he called the creeps.

I think we can establish that he intended
for them to get the blame for the bombing.

I'll talk to him.

Is that all?

Good.

Thank you, Ben.

Neil Morgans admitted planting all the
bombs except the last.

Where does that leave us?

I was with Simpson just before he lost consciousness.

The last words he said were, why did he do it?

That sounds like he knew he planted the b*mb.

Exactly.

Which arouses speculation that Simpson was
meant to be the target of that last b*mb.

But why?

Where's the motive?

Oh, Ironside.

Yes.

Thank you.

Simpson just died.

Never regained consciousness.

Sorry, sir, this is off limits.

Police.

Where's Sgt.

Vernon?

He's with Simpson's girl.

She's pretty shook up about old Frank.

Oh, well, uh, he wouldn't mind if I waited in his quarters.

I'm sure he wouldn't mind.

Thank you.

No, honey, a second, I hope.

Come on.

Oh, hello.

We know this is a terrible time for you,
Sergeant, but we need some help.

Yeah, sure.

Can you come down to the department?

Yeah, but, um...

I'll stay with her.

If you like.

Well, I sure would appreciate it.

And we're gonna get married, you know.

It's a shame.

Yeah.

Darlene.

I gotta get down to headquarters about Frank.

Officer Whitfield here.

I'll stay with you.

Huh.

Don't let her hit the sauce.

You know.

Come in, Sergeant.

Hello, Chief.

Trying to make head or tail out of this.

How long were you and Simpson together?

About 20 years.

That's a long time.

You got any idea who did it?

Oh, sure.

We have it pretty well narrowed down.

Had to be someone who was familiar with
the university b*mb threats, someone who

knew how to handle expl*sives, someone
with the opportunity to plant that last real b*mb.

Well, it could have been a lot of people.

Could be you.

Why would I want to blow up a statue?

Or why would you want to k*ll Simpson?

That's crazy.

We've been friends for 20 years.

You are.

Is this what you call me up here for?

Where'd you get that?

Just a few things I picked up in the quarters
you shared with Frank Simpson at the army base.

You've got no right to do that.

What's the beef?

Nothing valuable.

Just a few old cut-up copies of the college paper.

You haven't got anything on me!

Get out of here!

You're wrong, Sergeant.

I've got a lot on you.

Now take him down and book him.

Suspicion of m*rder.

He.

Made a statement when he saw the evidence.

After all those years together, why?

Oh, beware, my lord, of jealousy.

It is the green-eyed monster which doth
mock the meat it feeds on.

I dig Iago.



And when Simpson took his girl, that tore it.

Well, everybody ready for the ballgame?

Ballgame?

I thought we were going to the fights.

Ballgame?

Why do I have to go to the ballgame and it's fight night?

R.H.I.P.!

I'm gonna remind you of that 20 years from now.

The Macabre Mr. Micawber.