05x16 - Babe in the Woods

[bunniefuu]

You mean to tell me
you didn't bring those plans with you?

Look, do I talk when you're sh**ting?

Well, we better talk.

Larry, remember your poise.

Look, you promised to bring them.

I just thought we should come
to a more realistic agreement about money.

We had an agreement.

That was last week.

You're not going to get away with this.

Well, if I don't,

I've left a carefully worded letter
with the plans.

A fascinating letter.

But then, you lead a fascinating life, Larry.

♪♪

Mr. Martin?
Yes.

Thank you for coming, Mr. Mannix.

It's awkward having to talk business
at a funeral service,

but my secretary said "urgent."

She uses the word sparingly.

Well, if we don't act quickly,
they might as well bury

my entire corporation
along with Bobby Quinn.

How can I help?

Bobby Quinn was a genius,
a brilliant designer of microcircuits.

He'd just made a phenomenal breakthrough--

Computers the size of a briefcase.

Well, uh, he worked for you.

Legally, the plans are yours, aren't they?

Bobby Quinn was also something of a pirate.

He was insisting on more money--

A great deal more money when--

When a sn*per cut in
on your business conference.

I need those plans, Mr. Mannix,

and they're missing.

This check should take care of your fee.

There's an extra $, waiting for you
if you find them before Saturday.

Bobby Quinn had to sleep somewhere.

I assume you've checked under the mattress?

Well, he kept an apartment in town.

Mostly for entertaining.

I went through it with the police,
at their request.

The plans were not there.

I didn't expect them to be, actually.

Where would you expect them to be?

We gave Quinn an office fit for royalty,

but he preferred to do all of his work in
some fool cabin he had up in the mountains.

The plans must be there.
No idea where the cabin is?

No.

Well, it has to be within
two hours' driving distance of I A.

I've timed him on occasion when he called
before coming into the city for a meeting.

Mr. Martin, there are a lot
of mountains and a lot of cabins

within a two-hour drive of Los Angeles.

If it were easy, Mr. Mannix,
I'd have sent a boy from the mail room.

Quinn's widow?

Not officially. That's my wife.

Um, what did you say
your insurance company wants?

Oh, they just want to, uh,
verify the initial policy

with the computer's duplicate.

That's what I thought you said.

That's just a lot of sports junk.

There's no saltwater corrosion.

Should there be?

Only if you water-ski on the ocean.

I can't argue with that.

Mr. Quinn was a bachelor.

He must have had a lot
of very pretty company.

I wouldn't know.

I just collect the rent.
I don't keep score.

Oh, uh, this the bedroom in here?
If you can call it that.

Mr. Quinn was very big on recreation,
as you can see.

I could do without those high-powered r*fles.

Uh, they're shotguns
used for game bird hunting.

That doesn't make me like them any better.

It looks like Mr. Quinn led
a very active outdoor life as well.

Well, what good did it do him?

You exercise, breathe deep,
eat all the right foods.

What does it get you?
sh*t by some crazy sn*per.

You got the list?

Joe, that's it.
I mean, it's just impossible.

There are over a hundred places
within a two-hour drive of LA.

Where you can play golf, water-ski,
and hunt birds.

Yeah. At least that narrows it down.

What makes you so sure
it has to be a freshwater lake?

Because there was no saltwater corrosion
on the metal bindings on the water skis.

Maybe he took a shower after
with his skis on.

With the meter ticking away
on a $, bonus,

you've got time for jokes.

Sorry.

Joe, maybe you overlooked something in LA.

The only thing I've got here
is Mr. Martin and his wife,

who was a little too fond of Bobby Quinn.

A triangle?

The shape m*rder sometimes comes in.

I don't know about Bobby Quinn.

Who'd want to sh**t poor little birds?

Maybe that's it.

What'd I say?

Birds. I've been thinking
about the wrong kind of birds.

There's another kind.
Girls.

Clay pigeons.
That's what I said-- girls.

Skeet sh**ting.
I should have known.

Those weren't hunting g*ns.
They're especially made for skeet.

Peggy, get me a list of all the skeet ranges.

Right.

Oh, and before you do that,
get Lieutenant Malcolm on the phone.

Malcolm.

Oh, sure, Peggy. Put him on.

Hi, Art.
What's up, Joe?

Uh, well, I was going out of town
for a couple of days.

I just wanted you to know.

Joe, you don't have to check with me.
Just come and go as you like.

Oh, Art, since I've got you on the phone,

I was just wondering, uh,

have you got anything new
on the Bobby Quinn sh**ting?

So far, it looks like a maniac
loose with a r*fle

that's got a grudge against golfers,

but we're still checking. Why?

Well, I'm just a citizen interested
in safe-and-sane golf courses.

Well, I tell you what, citizen.

I promise not to solve anything
while you're away, all right?

Seriously, Art, uh, if you come up with
a new angle, would you give Peggy a call?

Sure.

Uh, thanks.
I'll talk to you later.

Got anything?
Uh-huh. Two or three.

But there's only one
within a two-hour drive of LA --

Indian Lake Skeet Range.

Close to water skiing and golf.

Good girl.
Call Lawrence Martin.

Tell him I'm on my way up
to Indian Lake to find the cabin.

How long will you be gone?
I don't know. I've only got the haystack.

I've got to find the needle.

Yes?

Mr. Mannix's secretary
is calling on my phone, Mr. Martin,

and there's a Mr. Loder here to see you.

I'll take the Mannix call.
And send Mr. Loder in, Nancy.

Yes?

Mr. Martin, this is Mr. Mannix's secretary.

Oh, yes.

Mr. Mannix asked me to call and tell you he's
on his way to Indian Lake to find the cabin.

Indian Lake.

That's splendid.

I seem to have picked
the right man for the job.

When Mr. Mannix calls in,
I'll get back to you.

Uh, thank you very much for calling.

Thank you, Mr. Martin.
Good-bye.

Well, Mannix seems to think
that the cabin is at Indian Lake.

That's a nice place.
I've been there.

When he finds the plans,
he's also going to find a certain letter.

I'd prefer he didn't read it.

I understand.

You stay with him.

When he finds the plans, k*ll him.

Mr. Mannix?

That's pretty good sh**ting.
Thank you.

Sorry I was tied up.
Did you like the g*n?

Oh, that's a beauty.

Are you, uh, interested in a membership?

I might be.

But right now, I'm interested in one
of your members-- Bobby Quinn.

Well, there's nobody
by that name, Mr. Mannix.

I know all the members personally.

I can't believe he'd pass up
a g*n club like this.

Maybe you'd, uh, recognize his picture.

He looks like the cat
that swallowed the canary.

You do recognize him?
Oh, sure.

But there must be some kind of a mix-up.

This is Jason Riddle.

What'd you call him?
Bobby Quinn.

No, that's Jason Riddle, all right.

And that's his girlfriend.

Well, he's, uh, got a cabin here
my company's interested in buying.

Uh, would you happen to know where it is?

Well, we only know him here
at the club, Mr. Mannix.

He's not much for socializing after sundown,

if you know what I mean.

Yeah, I know what you mean.
Well, I haven't got much time,

and I was hoping to take a look
at the place before I left.

Well, must be on the lake.
How do you know?

Well, he's always talking
about his new ski boat.

He's, uh, said he named it
after his girlfriend.

The one in the picture there.

Well, maybe she could tell me
how to get to the cabin.

No doubt about it.

You know her?

Well, she's driven him up here
a couple of times.

She's got one of those fancy
little red sports cars.

Who is she?

I don't know.

I asked Jason about her once,
and all he said was, uh,

she's just a babe in the woods-- his.

Well, that sounds like
Bobby Quinn, all right.

It's strange, you know--
Jason using two names.

Sometimes one name isn't enough,
uh, for some people.

Thanks again.

Jason, is that you?

Oh, hello.

Excuse me.
Uh, is this Jason Riddle's cabin?

Oh, he's not here right now.
May I help you?

My name is Joe Mannix.

I'm a private investigator.

Oh, hi. I'm Sharon Carter.

If it's anything to do with Jason,
you'll have to wait till he gets back.

Well, I think maybe you can help me.

It's very important.

Well, how can I help?

Do you, uh, happen to remember this?

This silly thing.

It was taken last year.

Where in the world did you get this?

Oh, there's something wrong.

Something's happened to Jason.

That's why you're here, isn't it?
I'm sorry.

There's never an easy way to say it.
He's dead.

When he didn't call,
I was getting angry.

And now he's...

How?

Where?

It happened Monday.
Uh, he was sh*t.

sh*t.

It happened on the golf course.

Police think it was a sn*per, uh,
just pulling the trigger at random.

Monday.

It's been all over.

It's even too late to cry for him.

If I cry now,
I'd only be crying for myself.

How much did you really know about him?

Enough.

For me.

But not as much as you're going to tell me.

Am I right, Mr. Mannix?

Well, he worked and lived in Los Angeles
under the name of Bobby Quinn.

Somehow I knew one day
I'd hear something like that.

But I expected him to tell me.

I thought he'd turn to me and say,
"My real name isn't Jason at all.

My real name is Bobby Quinn."

Strange.

It always felt like Sunday
being with Jason.

Do you know anything
about Sundays, Mr. Mannix?

A little.

Beautiful.

Relaxed.

But always in the back of your mind,

there's the knowledge
that it will soon be Monday.

There's no future
in being a Sunday-night girl.

You didn't come all the way up here
just to tell me he was dead, did you?

No.

No. He was working
for an electronics company

and had just finished some plans
for new circuit designs.

They seem to be missing,
and I've been hired to find them.

Hmm.

He was always drawing
lines and squiggles.

I never knew what they were.

You think the plans could be up here?

Well, his employer, Lawrence Martin,
is certain they are.

He said the last time he saw them,

they were folded
and in a large manila envelope.

No.

I haven't seen anything
like that around here.

I've cleaned every inch of this cabin
since Jason left, just to keep busy.

There's nothing like that here.

Then if they're not here,
they've got to be someplace nearby.

Where did he go when he was here?

Nowhere, mostly.

His boat, the skeet club...

to play golf.

Do you know if he dealt
with a bank around here?

Yes.
Did he have a safe-deposit box?

I don't really know.

How are you as a guide?

I really don't have time
to make any wrong turns.

If it was important to Jason,
I'd like to help.

Good.

I'm sorry, Mr. Mannix.

Jason Riddle had an account with us,
but he didn't have a safe-deposit box.

He was entitled to one, of course.

We provide free safe-deposit boxes
for our good customers.

I'll keep that in mind.
Thank you.

Where to now?
Well, I've been to the skeet range.

There's no clubhouse there.

What I'm looking for
is a door with a lock on it.

Maybe the golf club.

He must have had a locker.

Can you head us in the right direction?

I can.

Excuse me.

Do you have a, uh, member
named Jason Riddle?

Yeah.

Well, I would like
to take a look in his locker.

This is a private club, man.

Open Mr. Riddle's locker?
I can't do that. No way.

But you must keep extra keys.

What would happen
if a member lost his?

Sure. But, uh, I haven't got any authority

to let you near Mr. Riddle's locker
without his say-so.

Anyway, extra keys cost money.

Uh, you see, there's some very important
papers that belong to a client of mine.

And we think they might be
in Mr. Riddle's locker.

Club rules.

You'll have to talk
to the president about that.

I already have.

Oh, yeah?

Well, what's his name?

Andrew Jackson.

That's close enough.

Come with me.

You wait here.

You can, uh, lock it up, Warden.

You only paid to look.

Don't worry. I never ask for refunds.

Did you find anything?

Nothing with any lines or squiggles.

What's the matter?

He keeps breaking the law of averages.

Who?

That man out there. He checked
into the lodge the same day I did.

Do you know him?

Uh, so far, just his license number.

He keeps showing up
at the same places we do.

There aren't many places
to go in Indian Lake.

Maybe it's just a coincidence.

Well, there's one way to find out.
Have you signed up for the tournament?

Uh, excuse me, ma'am.

Do you happen to have
a large envelope of any kind?

It's very important.
I think so.

Will this do?
Oh, that's fine.

Thank you.
What's that for?

I want you to go out to the car.

And when I come out
waving this envelope,

I want you to act, uh,
excited and happy.

Why?

Well, we've got a bird dog following us,

and I want to see
if I can bring him to a point.

Okay.

We're in luck.

I found it.

He's following us.

So much for coincidence.

Looks like he wants that envelope now.

Hang on.

About you and your friend in the other car
and your drag race.

Now-- Now, I know you probably have
a story that fits this occasion,

and-- and I'm eager to hear it.
You see, Sheriff--

But someplace else
where we'll all be safe,

like, uh, well, in my office.

Uh, only this time,
you follow me, very slowly.

Gladly, Sheriff.

You guys got the salt in here?

LA, huh?

You know, Mr. Mannix, uh,
these aren't freeways up here.

They're just quiet mountain roads.

We'd kind of like to keep them that way.

Sheriff, uh, I'm a private investigator.

I'm up here working on a case.

Oh? You, uh--

You got something that says that?

Yeah.

Uh, what kind of a case?

Just go on talking, Mr. Mannix,

'cause I got a lot of things to write here.

Well, uh, I'm looking
for some valuable documents

that belong to my client.

Apparently there's somebody else
out after them, too.

Now, the man in the car--

The one that, uh, passed us
after we had stopped,

he was no friend.

He was trying to run us off the road.

I was heading for the village
when we spotted you.

Well, that's good.

That's-- Hey, that's really very good.

And, uh, if it's the truth,
it's—- it's even better.

Which means you'll be able
to add this little bill for reckless driving

to your expense account, Mr. Mannix.

Hank, have you got the ketchup in there?

Sheriff, uh, can we go now?

Oh, yeah.

But just be careful of the accelerator.

That's the expensive pedal.

Hmm?

Come on. I'll, uh,
take you back to the cabin.

You're leaving?

Yeah. I've got to go to Los Angeles
and get some answers.

Will you be back?

Depends on the answers.

Why should I tell you anything, Joe?

Answer me that.

Friendship.

Oh, yes.

That is the one-way street
you live on, isn't it?

Come on now, Art.
You know I can't discuss the case.

How about the r*fle
that k*lled Bobby Quinn?

Well, it was no piece of mail-order junk.

Ballistics says
it was a special magnum caliber.

Very expensive hunting r*fle.

Used by a professional.

I didn't say that.

It's a thought.
I'm thinking about it.

At least we're thinking alike.

I'll see you, Art.

Joe?

If the case you're working on
has something to do with the Quinn k*lling,

I'd like to know about it
before I'm a lot older.

I hope I live long enough to tell you, Art.

Thank you very much.

Joe...

Oh, listen, that license number

that you wanted me to check on
belongs to a Carl Loder,

and he has a Santa Barbara address.

Carl Loder.
The name doesn't ring a bell.

Then why is he following you?

Well, those plans are big game.

Hunting season is open.

You know, I saw him on the r*fle range, too.

Good sh*t.
So was the man that sh*t Bobby Quinn.

The thought had occurred to me.

Joe, do you think that the plans
are really up there?

I do. And I also think that Bobby Quinn
is an expert at hiding things, even himself.

Well, what about the girl?

She doesn't know anything about it.

She's very trusting and, uh, very pretty.

Oh?

Peggy, uh, call Malcolm.

Give him Loder's name.
Have him check it out, huh?

Well, what if he asks why?

Tell him, uh, they just
made friendship a two-way street.

Do you think Loder's
still up at the lake?

Well, he doesn't discourage easily.

By now he'll have checked
with the kid at the golf course

and found out I baited him
with an empty envelope.

Joe, he'll be waiting for you.

He knows that you're on to him now.
He'll be more careful.

So will .

But first, I want to find out
if my client knows anybody

that wants those plans
as badly as he does.

It's possible, of course, Mr. Mannix.

But I can't conceive how anybody could learn
of the exact nature of the plans.

Or their whereabouts.

Can I fix you a drink, Mr. Mannix?

Uh, no, thank you, Mrs. Martin.
I'll be leaving in a minute.

Lawrence?
Uh, yes. Martini, please.

Our security is very tight.

But if there has been a leak,
that makes your job all the more urgent.

I find this news very disturbing, Mr. Mannix.

It does complicate the matter.

Mr. Martin, do you know a Carl Loder?

I'm sorry.

Carl Loder...

No.

He's on the same track I am.

Somehow he, too, figures the plans
must be up at Indian Lake.

Well, I'll be in touch.

I'm paying you to find those plans first.

If they fall into the wrong hands,
I could be destroyed.

Good night, Mr. Martin.
Good night.

Mrs. Martin.
Good night.

You had Bobby Quinn k*lled.

I had every reason to,
wouldn't you say, darling?

I'll have my martini now.

Sharon?

Sharon?

Oh.

It's you.

What's, uh-- What's all this?

I really didn't think
you were coming back.

Men have a way of vanishing on me.

Now, we've still got work to do,

and if we find those plans,
you're entitled to a percentage of my fee.

You can mail it to me.

Where will you go?

I don't know.

Somewhere away from Sunday night.

I'll send you my address.

Wait a minute.

Wait a minute now.

Sharon, where do you get
your mail here?

What?

Well, there's no mailbox out there.

Where did Jason pick up his mail?

At the village post office.

He had one of those post office boxes.

Look, Sharon, do you have a key
to that post office box?

It wasn't a key.
It was a combination.

He had it on a slip of paper.

Voila.

Is it what you've been looking for?
I think so.

All lines and squiggles.

I'm glad I'm only getting paid
to find these plans, not understand them.

Well...

at least, uh, Mr. Martin'll be happy.

Lines and squiggles.

That about sums up his life, doesn't it?

More squiggles?

No, I don't think so.

What is it?

It's an insurance policy that didn't work.

Lawrence Martin
was bleeding Intertronics for millions,

juggling the books.

Bobby Quinn found out.

Operator, I want to make
a person-to-person call.

Lawrence Martin, Intertronics Company,
Los Angeles.

What are you going to do?

Set a trap.

I'll take the call in here, Nancy.

Mr. Mannix, how does it look?

Well, like payday, Mr. Martin.

I told you that bonus wouldn't slow me down.

I've got your plans.

Are you sure they're the right ones?

I think so, but these things
are a mystery to me.

Good work, Mr. Mannix.

Was, uh, there any--
anything else with the plans?

An envelope.
Uh, looks like a letter.

Did you open it?

Uh, I only steal mail, Mr. Martin.
I don't read it.

Any sign of that Loder fellow?

No, I think he gave up.
He checked out of the lodge yesterday.

Splendid.
Where are you now?

I'm at Bobby Quinn's cabin.
I'm leaving for L.A. right now.

No, no. No, don't do that.

I'd better drive up there and have a look
at the plans just to make sure.

Well, now, that's a good idea.

Uh, Quinn's cabin is the first one
on North Fork Road.

I'll find it. Wait for me, Mr. Mannix.

I'll be here.

What are you doing?

Getting ready for company.

Sharon, I want you to get out of here.

Take my car, go to the sheriff's office.

Tell him to surround this cabin
but be sure and stay out of sight.

But why?

If I've got Lawrence Martin figured right,
he's not about to show up here.

Joe, the man,
the one that was following us,

you're expecting him.
That's right. He's a hired assassin,

and I'm sure he k*lled Bobby Quinn.

By now, Martin has told him
exactly where I am and what to do.

But, Joe, it's crazy.
You just can't sit here like a decoy.

Now, look, Sharon,
I've already got Martin.

That letter'll hang him.
I want the man who k*lled Bobby Quinn.

Now go get the sheriff.

Be careful, Joe.

I thought I told you to lea--

I didn't think that was
a very good idea, Mr. Mannix.

Well, well.

The lady who cried a little too hard
at Bobby Quinn's funeral.

Your g*n, Mr. Mannix--
Take it out

and put it very carefully on the table.

And don't try anything foolish
or I'll k*ll her.

Now ['ll take the plans, Mr. Mannix.

Well, I don't know
what the fuss is all about.

I was about to deliver these
to your husband anyway.

Then you can thank me
for saving your life.

You never would have made it
down the mountain alive.

You don't know Carl Loder.

Ah! But you do,
don't you, Mrs. Martin?

I, uh, have the feeling you don't
very often spill martinis.

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

I didn't myself until just now.

Well, maybe I can clear things up for you.

You knew your husband
hired me to find these plans,

but you didn't do anything about it at first.

Not until you heard me tell your husband
I thought I was being followed by Carl Loder.

That was the trigger, wasn't it?

If Carl Loder was following me,
that meant only one thing to you--

Your husband had hired Loder.

And up until last night, you didn't even know
your husband knew Carl Loder.

You thought Loder was your own
very private employee.

Unbelievable.

Anyone in the world would say unbelievable.

You...

You hired Loder to k*ll
your husband, Mrs. Martin.

You figured
with your husband out of the way,

Bobby Quinn would come running back
to your open arms.

But something went wrong.

You thought it was just an accident--
that he had missed.

So you kept quiet.

How am I doing?
I can see why Lawrence hired you.

You're very efficient.

But don't confuse efficiency
with facts that will hold up in court.

The plans, Mr. Mannix.

There's only one thing you didn't know
about Loder when you hired him.

He's also a very bright businessman.

After you made your deal with him,

he went to your husband
and got a better offer

to k*ll Bobby Quinn instead.

Anything else you can't prove?

Your husband was afraid
that once I found these plans,

I would also learn that he had been
bleeding his company dry,

so he sent Loder out to get me, too.

Lawrence will never get the plans.

I thought about k*lling him myself.

But why should I pay with my life for his?

This way, I can sit by and watch him rot.

Ruining Lawrence now will be the happiest
experience of our married life.

The plans, Mr. Mannix.

You, get over there.

Don't follow me.
I warn you.

Stop where you are, Mrs. Martin!

Now, just drop the envelope
and walk on home.

Loder, is that you?

Listen, Loder, I'll pay you.

I'll pay you anything you want.

No sale, Mrs. Martin.

I only work for the highest bidder,

and so far, your husband
has been very generous.

Now, drop your g*n

and those plans and split.

I've got work to do here.

Listen, Loder, without these plans,
Lawrence is nothing.

He's ruined.
He won't be able to pay you a penny.

You'll have to deal with me!

No!

Mannix?

Come on out, and I'll let your girl go.

Now, listen to me very carefully, Sharon.

Unless I can stop him, we're next.

Now, I'm going to make a try for my g*n.

When I go out this door,
I want you to go out the back

and start running and don't stop,
you understand?

No, Joe, I can't.
Just do as I say.

Go on.

It's been nice knowing you.

That's what we always say up here
to the big-city folk.

You decided where you're going?

Not yet.

Sharon...

You know, you're, uh, more
than just a Sunday-night girl.

Remember that, huh?