05x14 - To Save a Dead Man

[bunniefuu]

You're hurt. Let me get a doctor.

No. No, Sister.

I want a priest. I'm dying.

I'm here all alone.

Sister, please.

Help me.

Help me.

I'm listening.

I...

I sent...

a man to prison.

I knew he was innocent.

Heavenly Father, forgive me.

I've sinned.

♪♪

That's where it's at, Joe.
If you want to score, you've got to putt.

The Gospel according to Father Fain.
How are you, Father?

Fine. Fine.
You got a game?

No, no. I just finished
with some high-handicap bandits.

Yeah.
Wouldn't you think those gentlemen

would respect my vows of poverty?

Which means, uh, you cleaned 'em out
and don't know what to do with the loot.

Oh, there's always God's work, Joe.
Mmm.

In other words,
the parish school needs a new...

roof!

Oh, look at that.

No, the bandits paid
for the roof a month ago.

I'm working on a new paint job now.

But I do have a favor to ask of you, Joe.

Just ask, Father.

There's a nun.
One of our younger teachers.

I'd like you to see her. Professionally.

Why would a nun
need a private detective?

I told Father Fain
that I had to do something.

That poor dying man haunts me.

He was trying to erase his sin
against this other man--

An innocent man
that he had put in prison.

With his last dying breath,
he was trying to tell me the man's name.

What do you think, Joe?

I don't know.
It's not going to be easy to find the man.

I mean, I've never talked to a convict
who wasn't innocent.

Mr. Mannix,
Al Murphy was a dying man.

He was pleading his guilt before God.

He was saying that he had sinned,
that he had borne false witness.

I understand, Sister.

I was only trying to warn you.

The odds against finding that particular
innocent man are a little frightening.

But you will try?

Uh, please don't expect a miracle.

Joe, we're always expecting miracles.

That's our bag.

Yeah. You proved that on a golf course.

Albert Murphy, k*lled in a traffic accident
a couple of nights ago.

That's him.

Well, two arrests for drunk driving.

According to the coroner's report,
he was loaded that night.

What did he do for a living?

He ran a pizza parlor the last six years.

Before that?

Before that, he was a desk clerk.

Where?

Well, a desk clerk is a desk clerk.
What difference does it make?

Art, uh, does it say?

The Vallejo Towers.

The Vallejo Towers.

Vallejo Towers.

Art, wasn't there a m*rder or something there
about five, six years ago?

Yeah.

Uh, Mrs. OW. Taggart
was strangled by her boyfriend.

Yeah. And for a couple of weeks,

the columnists had a ball
with the secret life of OW. Taggart,

the billionaire who couldn't buy everything.

What has that got to do with Al Murphy?

He was working the desk
at the Vallejo Towers.

There could've been some connection.

I was there when they interrogated
the m*rder*r--

A man named Kilgore.

He was a junior executive
in the Taggart Enterprises.

Did Homicide question Al Murphy at the time?

Wouldn't have made any difference.
Kilgore gave us a full confession.

What happened to him?

He pleaded guilty
in return for a reduced sentence.

Drew ten to life.
Where's he doing his time?

Soledad.

Al Murphy?

He was a witness at your trial.

He was working the desk at the Vallejo Towers
the day you were arrested.

Yeah, I remember him.

Is it possible that what he said
on the witness stand helped convict you?

Are you kidding?
I k*lled Alice Taggart.

I confessed to the police and pleaded guilty.

Al Murphy didn't send me up.
I made it on my own.

Before he d*ed,

he confessed that he had helped
send an innocent man to prison.

Some other guy, Mannix.

If Lyle Grandt hadn't handled my case,

I would've been doing death-row time.

As it is, I'm eligible for parole
in a couple of years,

so let it be, okay?

When I'm sure it is okay.

What's that?

A transcript of your trial.

Why bring all that up again?

Maybe some of these words
will sound different to you after six years.

Enough to remember something.

Now, let's, uh, start
with the confession you signed

at the Wilshire station after your arrest.

Mrs. Taggart--
Alyce-- called me at the office

at : this afternoon.

You getting all this?

She sounded strange, nervous.

She told me she was at the suite
at the Vallejo Towers,

and she wanted me
to come over right away.

What's this all about, Alyce?

About goodbye, Ted.

Why?

You bore me.

You can't end it just like that.

I have ended it. It's over.

"I'd never seen Alyce like that.
I didn't know what to think.

"| was desperate.

All I knew was I was losing her.
I couldn't let her go."

Alyce, can't we talk it over?
I don't know what's happened, but--

Stop begging, Ted.
It's not becoming.

Well, maybe this is.

It's going to take more than
a couple of ice cubes to put me off.

Don't touch me.

You've been watching too many
late movies on television.

"That's the last I remember

"until I realized my hands
were around her throat.

I knew she was dead."

It says here you then went to the phone,

told the desk to call the police
'cause you'd m*rder*d a woman.

Yeah.
And the man on the desk was Al Murphy?

I guess so.

If you thought Murphy knew something
that might clear you,

you still wouldn't care
to change your confession?

What could Murphy know?

I told it the way it happened.

Let it be, Mannix.

For a while, I thought we might have
a small miracle going for us, Sister,

but Kilgore insists he's guilty.

Joe, maybe that's the miracle
we should be looking for.

What miracle's that?

The convicted man

who clings steadfastly to his own guilt.

Well, as you say,
in the world behind bars,

all prisoners protest their innocence.

Well, doesn't Kilgore's attitude
strike you as significant?

I'm afraid I find it's a dead end, Father.

Mr. Mannix, perhaps we could talk

to the attorney
that defended Mr. Kilgore.

But, uh, what could we hope
to accomplish, Sister?

Al Murphy's testimony
didn't send Kilgore to prison.

Oh, but Mr. Murphy
clearly thought otherwise

to the very depths of his soul.

All right. Uh...

I'll arrange a meeting
with Kilgore's attorney, Lyle Grandt.

As a matter of fact, Sister,
I remember Mr. Murphy very well.

Then his testimony at the Kilgore trial
was a decisive factor?

No. I'm sorry.

What convinced you that Kilgore
was guilty, Mr. Grandt?

Well, my client himself.

He made a full confession to the police
and refused to retract a word of it.

I took all the delays
I could reasonably ask of the court,

hoping he'd change his mind,
but he didn't.

Believe me,
it was a battle all the way.

Even to convince him that he had to make
an initial plea of innocent

so that we could see
the prosecution's case.

Are you saying that you had doubts
about Mr. Kilgore's confession?

No, Sister. I believed it.

But an attorney has
a special obligation to a client.

Not to turn the guilty loose on society,

but to be certain
that the person standing trial

has every opportunity
to present mitigating circumstances.

In other words, you were hoping
that during the prosecution's presentation,

something would make Kilgore
want to fight for his life?

Yes, I was.

However, that wasn't to be.

Poor Kilgore.

Imagine his temptation.

Not only was Alyce Taggart

a devastatingly beautiful woman,

she was the wife
of the world's wealthiest enigma--

OW. Taggart, man or myth?

Kilgore's love affair was...

a secret within a mystery.

The danger alone...

exciting.

I'm really sorry, Sister.

That's all right.
I-- I think I understand.

Well, it comes down to this.

Kilgore went into his trial
wanting the gas chamber.

At least I was able to talk him out of that.

Well, I guess that about covers it.
You agree, Sister?

Yes, I suppose so.

Thank you for your time, Mr. Grandt.

Not at all.

Yes. You've been most considerate.

My pleasure.

Ed Noble, please.
This is Lyle Grandt.

Noble.

Ed, a private detective named Mannix
just left my office.

He's taking an interest in the Kilgore case.

Naturally, Ed.
It's my job to be convincing.

I just thought that you should know

in case you thought
something should be done.

Hi, Peggy.

How was the meeting
with Kilgore's attorney?

Well, I hate to see a man
lose his sh*t at salvation, Peggy,

but I'm afraid Al Murphy's
going to have to make it without my help.

I wouldn't bet on that.
You know that pizza parlor of his?

Yeah. What about it?
It's a franchise operation.

I wired the home office.
Here's their answer.

Al Murphy paid $, for that business,
in cash.

Hmm. And just two days
after Kilgore was sentenced.

Mr. Murphy didn't make that kind of money
working the desk at the Vallejo Towers.

Nice work, Peggy.

Oh, uh, see if you can get
Sister Meg on the phone.

You're gonna tell her about it?
Not exactly.

I just want her to know that we may have
stubbed our toe on a small miracle.

What do you got?

My friend at the credit bureau
dug up Al Murphy's file

out of the dead accounts section.

Very bad rating.

Well, that sure keeps our miracle alive,
doesn't it?

The question is, where'd he get
the money to buy that franchise?

Mr. Mannix?

Yes. Come in, Miss--

Linholm. Adrianne Linholm.
How do you do?

Would you like some coffee, Miss Linholm?
No, thank you.

Please, sit down.

Now, uh,
what can I do for you, Miss Linholm?

Save me a great deal of money.

At least my board of directors are convinced
you're the man to do it.

Board of directors?

Royal Palms Sugar.

We have a director's meeting here
on the mainland twice a year.

Our plant's in Hawaii.
I see.

Now, uh,
about this money you mentioned.

We're losing over $, a year.

A product that never reaches the market.

After it's refined, it vanishes.

Well, don't you have
plant security forces, private police?

They're not very efficient,
or professional, obviously.

Mm-hmm.

That's why I'm here.

To offer you a $, retainer,
Mr. Mannix,

against ,
if you can stop these thieves.

That's very generous.

We're very worried.

And I suppose you want me
on the job yesterday?

Well, naturally.
This thing has to be stopped

as quickly as possible.

We'll fly to the islands
in my private jet tomorrow morning.

I'm afraid that's out of the question,
Miss Linholm.

Why?

Well, I'm committed
to another client right now.

What would it take to get you uncommitted?

I'm sorry. Really sorry.

My personal check for $,.

It's yours if you can make some arrangement
for this other case.

Don't take too long, Mr. Mannix.

You know how perishable paper can be.

Hmm. I do, indeed.

At least $ an ounce.

What was that all about, Joe?

I strongly suspect, Peggy,

it has something to do
with keeping Al Murphy out of heaven.

I know my coming here like this
can't make any sense to you, Sister.

Mrs. Kilgore,
I really don't understand you.

I would think you'd go
to all lengths to secure

your husband's vindication and freedom.

If that were possible, Sister, yes.

But, you see, I've-- I've lived
with that hope for a long time.

Dreamed that something might happen
to reverse Ted's conviction.

But if your husband is innocent--

But he isn't, Sister. That's the point.

He did k*ll that woman.

If I can say it, and I can believe it,

certainly anyone can.

I loved Ted.

I still love him.

But it happened.

Mr. Murphy believed
your husband was innocent.

What could he have done
to make him believe

that he had helped
send your husband to prison unjustly?

I don't know anything about Mr. Murphy.

I'm sorry for him, but he did not
put my husband in prison.

Sister, we lived through the trial,

the years after the trial--
the children and I.

You don't know how hard that was on them.

I don't think we could take it again.

Not a new trial.

Not when it has to come out the same way.

She said she got a letter from her husband

that he was worried and afraid

that you might spoil
his chances for a parole,

so she called his lawyer.

And he sent her to you.

She might be right.

I thought we were just fulfilling Al Murphy's
intentions to die with a clear conscience.

But not everyone can be wrong.

I'm not so sure, Sister.

For example, this is the testimony

Murphy gave in the Kilgore trial.

Now, if you'll, uh, just start there
with paragraph two.

That's the questioning by the prosecutor.

Mr. Murphy, will you tell the court,
in your own words,

what you recall
about the afternoon in question?

Well, about :, our regular
switchboard operator was taking a break,

so I had the board and the desk as well.

Got a call from Room .

It was a woman's voice
asking to make an outside call.

To what number, Mr. Murphy?

Uh, KL-.

For the record,
that phone is listed as a private line

in the office of the defendant,
Theodore Kilgore.

Go on, Mr. Murphy, please.

Well, about minutes later, I saw
the defendant walking through the lobby.

Then it must have been ,
♪♪ minutes later,

I got another call from Room .

This time it was Mr. Kilgore.

He identified himself?

Yes, he did.

He said he k*lled a woman,
and would I call the police.

Thank you, Mr. Murphy.
Your witness, Mr. Grandt.

No cross-examination, Your Honor.

I don't understand.

Is this all?

That's it.
That's Murphy's entire contribution.

But it's nothing we haven't heard
from everyone else.

That's what shakes me up, Sister.
If Murphy lied, then everyone is lying.

Item :Grandt passed
on cross-examining Murphy.

Why?

At that point in the trial, he was supposed
to be defending his client all-out.

Item :
Kilgore is supposed to have taken

a year's lease on Suite .

Now, how can a man
that only makes $, dollars a year

afford a suite that goes for $ a day?

Yeah, Peggy?

The corporate pedigree of Miss Linholm's
Royal Palms Sugar Corporation--

Uh, let me guess.

A subsidiary of OW. Taggart Enterprises.

After you get through all the fine print.

Look, Peggy, would you make a call for me?
Call Miss Linholm.

Tell her I'm very sorry, but I'm going to
have to let that check of hers deteriorate.

Right.

You know, Sister,
I suddenly feel very good

about Mr. Murphy getting his visa
into heaven.

Let's see if we can give his cause
a little nudge in the right direction.

Where are we going, Mr. Mannix?

I'd like to ask Mrs. Kilgore
about her husband's financial situation.

Oh, Mr. Mannix, I promised Mrs. Kilgore
that I'd ask you to drop the case.

Well, if you don't mind, Sister,
I'd like her to ask me.

Mrs. Kilgore?
Yes?

Uh, my name is Joe Mannix.
I'm a private investigator.

You know the sister.

No, I'm afraid I don't.

No. No, we've never met.

Well, uh, Sister Costello and |
would like to talk to you about your husband.

Come in.

Thank you.

All right, Mr. Mannix.
What about my husband?

We feel there's a good chance
that he didn't k*ll Alyce Taggart.

Have you talked to Ted about that?

The other day.
And he's still saying he's guilty.

Then why should I believe you?

Do you think he's a m*rder*r?

What difference does it make?

It's not going to change anything, is it?

And you're satisfied he was having an affair
with Alyce Taggart?

He testified that he was, under oath.

According to the record of the trial,

your husband was paying
over $ a week

to lease that apartment
at the Vallejo Towers.

Now, did he have that kind of money?

Of course not.

He was under oath
when he told the court he did.

Now, if that was a lie,

couldn't the testimony
regarding his relationship with Mrs. Taggart

also have been a lie?

He's a man. He had his pride.

Mrs. Taggart was paying for that apartment.

Did your husband tell you that?

He didn't have to.

That's him.

Oh, thank you.

The woman who pretended
she was Mrs. Kilgore

merely wanted me
to take you off the case.

That's right.

Mr. Mannix, I find it hard to believe

that there are people
who are really like that.

Well, they don't usually come
in your place of business, Sister.

Thank you.

Let's go.

What's the news, Doc?

Surprisingly good.
Your seat belt kept you

from ramming your head
through that windshield.

Now tell me the bad news.

You'll feel a little shaky
for the next few days.

Expect some headaches, neck pains.

I'd recommend several days of bed rest.

He won't listen to you, Doctor.

Hi, Peggy.

Joe, you all right?
Yeah, sure. Sure. I'm fine, I guess.

Stay in bed, Mr. Mannix.
Take it easy.

That's the word.
Who did it, Joe?

I don't know,
but if you'll leave me alone

so I can get dressed and get out of here,
I may find out.

But the doctor just said
you have to give yourself a chance.

Peggy, somebody wants me to join Al Murphy.
I can't just lie around here and wait.

But, Joe, the doctor just said--

Peggy, would you leave me alone
so I can get dressed?

Where are you going?

Back to prison.

Thought I'd seen the last of you.

Someone tried to arrange that.

What happened?
There's a contract out on me.

Contract?

And I got a feeling your name's on it, too.

You've seen it?
I don't have to.

Once they get me,
you're the only one left

who can make waves
over Alyce Taggart's m*rder.

Why would I make waves?
I k*lled her.

You didn't k*ll her.
No? Then tell me all about it.

Someone else strangled Alyce Taggart.
You're getting paid off to take the rap.

More money
than you'd ever see in a lifetime.

Fairy tale.
Well, the attempt on my life was real.

And it happened
because I wouldn't buy your confession.

Don't be a fool, Kilgore.
You'll never see dime one of that payoff.

It'll be a Kn*fe in the back.
In the shower room

or the recreation yard, someplace.

There's nothing much I can do about that,
is there, according to you?

You can tell me
who really k*lled Alyce Taggart.

I k*lled her!

All right, Kilgore.

If you won't help me, I can't help you.

You stick to your story,

but don't turn your back on anyone.

Did I send for you, Mannix?

No. But when you do, it'll be too late.

It'll happen, believe me,

before you ever hit the outside.

Mannix!

Mannix, how could anything I say now
make any difference?

Who'd believe me?
Everybody here on the inside wants out.

No one's going to think you're stir-crazy
if I can make what you tell me hold up.

I...

I d-- I don't know. I--

I'm thinking of my wife and kids.

Was that part of the deal--
their safety?

Yeah.

How long do you think that deal
will hold up if you're hit?

Now, the real k*ller has got to think
you told your wife the whole story.

Look, Kilgore,
you're the only one that can do it.

Either you tell me who k*lled Alyce Taggart,
or you're dead and so is your whole family.

They'd k*ll you before
you could get close to OW. Taggart.

Are you saying Taggart k*lled his wife?

And that Taggart paid the rent
on that apartment?

Even though it was in your name,
it was his playpen?

Was Taggart there
when you got there that afternoon?

Let's hear it, Kilgore.
Someone was in that suite.

Who?

Who?

Ed Noble, first vice president,

next down the line from Taggart.

It was he who called me at the office,

and it was he
who told me to come over to the Towers.

Noble called you, not Mrs. Taggart?

That's right.

And you accepted his story
that Taggart k*lled his wife?

That's the Way it is
when you work for OW. Taggart.

After a while,
you get used to the idea

that Ed Noble's voice is C.W. Taggart's.

I never met the great man face-to-face,

and I was a Taggart executive for two years.

Everything you've ever heard
about C.W's lifestyle is gospel.

Uh-huh.

Oh, uh, what did Noble tell you
when you got to that apartment?

Well, he showed me her body.

Then he told me that she'd caught
OW. with another Woman

and that she was going to create a scandal.

She was going to drag him through the courts.

So...

there was a fight, and, uh,

he strangled her.

You accepted that?

Of course I accepted it.

She was lying there dead.

Yeah.

I heard that you were sh*t at,

your car had been forced off the road.

You could've been k*lled.

I want you to stop worrying, Sister.

In my job, if you don't have nine lives,
you can't get a license.

Was the att*ck in any way connected

with what you've been doing
about Mr. Murphy?

Well, I could tell you a little white lie.

I won't. The truth is yes.

In that case, I worry about
even one of your lives being threatened.

Excuse me, Sister.

Peggy, I want you to build a fire
under that manager at the Vallejo Towers.

I need that employment record now.
I'm on it.

Let me know the second you get anything.

Mr. Mannix, I'd like you to drop the case.

There's no need to sacrifice your life

to save a dead man from his own sins.

I appreciate your releasing me, Sister,

but right now I'm not fighting
to save Al Murphy's soul.

I'm fighting to stay alive.

I see.
Then there's nothing I can say.

I'm afraid not.
It's out of my hands.

Then I can pray for your intentions.
That I can do.

I can use all the help I can get, Sister.

Is that it?
Al Murphy's employment record.

Yeah. This does it for me.
Call Lieutenant Malcolm,

tell him I'll be in his office
in half an hour.

All right. Maybe Kilgore
was telling you the truth, Joe,

but your theory about this whole case
is pretty wild.

Yeah, well,
somebody doesn't agree with you.

All right. The dynamite's real enough.
But the rest of it?

It all makes sense, Art.
Nobody has seen OW. Taggart for years.

Maybe he's dead.
Oh, come on, Joe.

Well, have you talked to him recently?
Has anyone?

For you, Lieutenant.
Oh, thanks, Mike.

Here.

This is a picture of C.W. Taggart
taken three months ago,

with a telephoto lens,
by an enterprising freelance photographer.

Here's when he made his last
public appearance--

A Congressional hearing nine years ago.

Now, you're not going to tell me
that isn't the same man?

I don't know.

The man in this photo could be a double
standing in for Taggart.

That's going to be a very tough sale, Joe.

All right now. Let's just assume,

for argument's sake, Art,
that I'm right--

That OW. Taggart
d*ed eight years ago,

and, like he did everything else,
in secret.

And his board of directors
put a look-alike in his chair?

That's right. And they even married
him off to Alyce Taggart for window dressing.

That way, they could control
the whole Taggart empire.

Joe, when a OW. Taggart chooses

not to show up anywhere for a while,
all sorts of stories spring up.

Come on, Art.
We're talking about billions of dollars.

The men who fronted for Taggart wouldn't let
that kind of money get away from them.

And Taggart's lifestyle would make it easy.

Except for the palace guards and Alyce
Taggart, who'd ever know there was a switch?

I have one question.
How do you prove you're right?

Make Taggart prove I'm wrong.

That's very interesting. How?

I'll charge him with attempted m*rder.

Of whom?
Me.

Gentlemen, what can I do for you?

Mr. Noble, I'm Lieutenant Malcolm,
Los Angeles Police Department.

I'd like to see Mr. Taggart, please.

I'm sorry, Lieutenant.
That's impossible.

No one's allowed in his private suite.

But I'm his first vice president.

Perhaps you can discuss
your business with me.

I'm afraid not.
This is an official matter.

Can you tell me what it's all about?

Yeah. Mr. Mannix here has sworn out
a complaint against Mr. Taggart.

Your boss hired a couple of K*llers
to get rid of me.

There have been two near misses.
That's absurd.

We didn't come here for your opinion,
Mr. Noble.

We'd like to see Mr. Taggart.

I'm sorry, Mr. Mannix,

but I can assure you Mr. Taggart
doesn't even know you're alive.

What possible interest could he have
in k*lling you?

That's why we'd like to talk to him.

We'd like to hear the answer.

Out of the question.

We could always come back with a warrant
for Mr. Taggart's arrest.

Do that, Lieutenant.
At your own risk, of course.

All we want to do is talk to him.

Mr. Taggart has nothing to say to you.

Why?

Because the real OW. Taggart
d*ed eight years ago,

and you don't trust the look-alike
you've got warming his seat

to handle a few questions
as to why he wants me dead?

Perhaps we can make a deal, Mr. Mannix.

What if I could satisfy you on that score?

Try me.

We've heard the imposter allegation
before, of course.

I suppose it's to be expected
when a man like Mr. Taggart

decides he's had enough of public life.

If you gentlemen
will excuse me for a minute.

Where are you going?

It's .

Mr. Taggart will be having
his sundown martini.

I should be able to switch glasses
without his realizing what I'm doing.

Of course, I expect Mr. Mannix
to accept the fingerprints on that glass

as proof that he's totally mistaken
in his conclusions.

Noble sh*t you down in flames, Joe.

The prints on that glass are fresh,

and they belong to Mr. OW. Taggart.

Are you sure?
Yeah.

Taggart was a navy flyer during World w*r II.

We verified the prints
off his enlistment record.

Face it, Joe.
OW. Taggart is alive and drinking.

If he is, Kilgore's story adds up.

Noble got him to take the rap for the m*rder.

How do you know Kilgore wasn't lying to you
when he said he didn't do it?

Maybe he saw a way out for himself.

If he was lying,
why the contract out on me?

You've been a target before.

Maybe it's somebody else's idea.
An old friend out of the past.

All right, Art.

But if we're going to talk about
what happened to Alyce Taggart,

let's take a long look at Al Murphy
and his employment record.

Does it matter now?

Now that we know CW. Taggart's alive?

But Al Murphy worked the desk
at the Barrington Hotel

before he moved over to the Vallejo Towers.

And Taggart Enterprises,
including CW. Taggart,

occupy the two top floors of the Barrington
Hotel, including the penthouse.

Yeah.

Now, if he was the desk clerk
at the Barrington Hotel,

he would have certainly recognized
the voice of the person

who called Kilgore from the Vallejo Towers
the afternoon of the k*lling.

I'll buy that, in view of
Murphy's troubled conscience.

Why didn't they simply wipe him out?

They needed him alive and happy,

so they paid him $,
to sew up the case against Kilgore.

Joe, Kilgore confessed.

That wasn't enough.

The case against Kilgore
had to be documented,

or somebody in your department
might have smelled a rat.

For my money,
that case was documented, Joe.

Art, uh, in your tender lifetime,
you've had a few martinis?

One or two. Off duty.

Uh, have you ever looked at the glass
after you finished the drink?

Why?

Well, a gin or vodka martini doesn't leave
a ring around the glass, does it?

No, it doesn't.

As you say, uh,
OW. Taggart is alive and drinking.

The question is, what is he drinking?

Do you mind if I have the lab check this out?

Come on, Joe.
What difference does it make?

Only that somebody's trying to k*ll me
and I'd like to know why.

I got a feeling that the only one

who can give me all the answers
is OW. Taggart himself.

You can't get in to see him.

Maybe if I drop in unexpectedly, huh?

When I make the next pass,
you go, right?

Mannix, you were in that helicopter.

That's right.

I wanted to return
Mr. Taggart's martini glass.

You chose an unconventional way of doing it.

Well, being that I raised the question
about Mr. Taggart's identity,

I thought it was up to me to apologize.

Unnecessary.
But your apology's accepted.

Thank you.

The fingerprints on that glass
were definitely Mr. Taggart's,

and I was all wrong
about his being replaced.

However,

the lab did do an analysis
of the contents of that glass,

and, uh, there's something about it
that bothers me.

Why would Mr. Taggart drink a martini

that tested out as pure ginger ale?

Off the record,
Mr. Taggart hasn't been well.

He's been taken off
alcoholic beverages for a while.

But, uh, you said, specifically,
he was having a martini.

Well, you can surely understand why.

Of course. Of course.

Just one of the many secrets
about the legendary OW. Taggart.

It is.

But then, uh, not really important enough
to k*ll anyone over, is it?

No one's going to k*ll you,
Mr. Mannix.

We'll escort you downstairs.

But I'd suggest that you
might save yourself a lot of trouble

by staying away from here in the future.

Mmm.

Hold it!

Is that you, Uncle?

It's all right. Don't be frightened.

Who is that with you?

Are they going to play with me?

No, sonny.

They can't stay. I'm sorry.

Let's go.

Why don't you just go ahead
and sh**t me here?

I'm sure you can make him think
it's just a game-- cowboys and Indians.

At least now I understand
about the ginger ale.

That doesn't prove a thing.

But it does give us the motive
for the m*rder of Alyce Taggart.

It's all beginning to make sense now.

Is it?

A great man has a stroke.
It affects his brain.

To dispel any rumors
that he might be incapacitated,

a wedding's arranged
with some girl from the company.

She goes along with it for a couple of years,

then decides she wants to cash in.

She wants a lot of money

or she'll have OW. committed

and take over herself.

Of course,
you couldn't allow her to do that.

No, I couldn't. Now move.

Art.

Yeah.

Well, Mr. Noble,
we had a report of a prowler here.

Got to check it out, you know.

I never dreamed
by asking you to help, that--

That you'd be taking chances like that.

Occupational hazard.

But well worth it, Sister.

Tomorrow, Ted Kilgore
walks out of prison a free man.

And maybe we just helped

squeeze Al Murphy's foot
into heaven's door.

Oh, I certainly hope so.