07x19 - The Girl from Nowhere

[bunniefuu]

Hi, Art. You buying?

What are you selling?

Lunch.

In a second.

I think that's about as close
as we can get, Lieutenant.

All right, Jer.

I'll see the media gets it.

What's this all about?

Remember that parade last week,

where the bleachers collapsed?

Yeah, couple of people
were k*lled.

Three.

She was one of them.

Why the drawing?

The problem is
we don't know who she was.

Nobody claimed her.

No connection with the other
two dead people?

None.

Not a clue about who she was
or who she was with.

She could've been there alone.

Eh, not likely.

Even so, somebody--
a parent, a relative--

Somebody would have
come forward.

We've checked every possibility

and come up
with exactly nothing.

What do you do now?

Get this picture
into the newspapers and on TV,

hope she's recognized.

And if not?

Then, at the coroner's
discretion, she'll be buried.

As an unknown.

Yeah.

Come on, I'll buy.

Joe, I have Art Malcolm
on the phone for you.

Thanks, Peg.

Yeah, Art.

I was just looking
at the picture.

Anything on the girl yet?

Do you call $ anything?

What do you mean?

It came in the mail
this morning with a note.

"Please see the little girl
is given a decent funeral.”

No signature.

The way things are,
the coroner's office doesn't see

any reason not to go ahead
with the funeral.

Services are at :
in the morning.

“Where?
Westhaven.

Oh, Joe, we're not going
to make any announcement

to the media
till after it's over.

We don't want this
to become a morbid spectacle.

"If I speak with the
tongues of men and of angels,

"but have not love,

"I am become sounding brass
or a clanging cymbal.

"If I have the gift of prophecy

"and know all mysteries
and all knowledge;

"and if I have all faith
so as to remove mountains,

"but have not love,
I am nothing.

"And if I bestow all my goods
to feed the poor,

"and give my body to be b*rned,

"it profiteth me nothing
if I have not love.

"When I was a child,
I spake as a child,

"I felt as child,
I thought as a child.

"Now that I am become a man,
I have put away childish things.

"For now we see
in a mirror, darkly;

"but then, face to face:

"now, I know in part;

"but then shall I know fully

"even as also I was fully known.

"But now, abideth faith,
hope, love, these three;

and the greatest
of these is love.”

By

by

Elizabeth Farrell?

You went to some trouble
finding me.

Is it Miss Farrell?

Missus.

My name is Joe Mannix,
Mrs. Farrell,

and it was no trouble at all.

A friend of mine at DMV
checked out your car license,

and the auto rental agency
gave me your address.

Come in, Mr. Mannix.

Thank you.

I suppose you want to know
why I was at the cemetery?

If you don't mind telling me.

I read about the little girl
in the paper.

And you donated $ ?

Yes.

So that the little girl
wouldn't be quite alone?

I had a daughter.

She would have
been the same age.

Four years ago, her father was
driving her to San Francisco.

They were going to the circus.

Mm.

I was down with the flu.

I couldn't be with them.

Just outside of Merced,

a trailer truck jumped the
center divider and hit the car.

They were both...

Mr. Mannix, what's your
interest in all this?

About the same as yours,
Mrs. Farrell.

I felt the little girl...

well, deserved someone.

Thanks for seeing me.

Not at all.

A little talk, Mr. Mannix?

About what?

Liz Farrell.

What about Liz Farrell?

Keep away from her, okay?

Mind telling me why?

Look, Mannix, if I have
to deliver the message twice,

you're in trouble.

Big trouble.

Is that it?

In a nutshell.

Are you through with my keys?

Sure.

We'll talk again sometime.

Oh, excuse me a moment.

Hi, Joe.

This is for you.

Who is it?

Elizabeth Farrell.

She seems to know you.

Hello, Mrs. Farrell.

What can I do for you?

Mr. Mannix, does a private
investigator's work

include protecting people?

Well, now
that depends on the people.

Me?

Ah,

There's a man following you,

about , six feet, pounds.

How did you know?

We met, had a little chat.

I didn't catch his name.

Ryker, Tommy Ryker.

R-Y-K-E-R?

I suppose so.

Where'd you meet?

Why don't I tell you
about it tonight.

Pick you up about : ?

For what?
Dinner.

A man should enjoy his work,
shouldn't he?

: .

A client?

I haven't decided.

So you're taking her to dinner
tonight to help you decide.

Yeah, you might say that.

Peggy, call Malcolm.

See if I can drop by
in about an hour.

Right.

"Ryker, Thomas Francis,
age ."

That was three years ago.

" Brockton Avenue,
Tulare, California”

He was down here in L.A.
in a massage parlor.

Apparently, the service
wasn't quite what he wanted.

He decided to break
the place up.

Put two of the girls
in the hospital.

Uh, charges were dropped after
he agreed to pick up the bills.

That sounds like him.

Tulare, huh?

There's a boy who travels
a long way for his fun.

That's all we've got
on him locally.

If you want,
I'll request a full profile

from Cll Sacramento.

Well, maybe later.

What about the girl?

Elizabeth Farrell?

Not a thing, sorry.

Mm.

You know, you look like

you're actually glad
to hear that.

Relieved, Art.

The word is relieved.

Thank you.

Now, tell me all you can
about Tommy Ryker.

Well, it's simple.

Wherever I go, he's there.

How long has
he been bothering you?

Oh, it began
about two weeks ago,

when I came down here.

From where?

Santa Rosa.

I met him at the hotel.

We had dinner
and then a nightcap.

He seemed pleasant enough,
but when I told him

he couldn't come to my room,
he flew into an absolute rage.

Since then,
he hasn't let me alone.

Have you complained
to the police?

Oh, I don't want to make
a big thing of it.

I just want him
to leave me alone.

Here's hoping.

Okay.

So you left the small town
of Santa Rosa

and came to the big city.

Well, only because the big city

is where big airplanes
leave from.

I'm flying to Europe
in a few days.

Business?

No, rest and relaxation.

So that's what the ladies
of Santa Rosa do

in their spare time--
take European trips.

That's what this lady
of Santa Rosa does.

Now you sound like one
of the idle rich.

My husband left me
fairly well off.

Do I detect
a slight note of guilt?

For having and enjoying money?

Let me tell you something,
Mr. Mannix...

Now, that's not good.

What?

Joe.

Joe.

I was one of ten children.

Ten.

We were so poor
we couldn't afford cornflakes

for any one child
two days in a row.

I swore, when I grew up,
I'd have money,

and now I have it, Joe,

and I feel good about it.

Well, I, uh,

wonder how Tommy Ryker feels
about that.

Well, I gotta hand it to him;
he doesn't give up.

What do we do?

Your nose is shiny.

Now, why don't you go powder it?

And then slip out front

and ask the parking attendant
to bring up my car.

What are you going to do?

I'll join you in a minute.

Go ahead.

Okay.

Tommy...

You don't listen too good.

You're pressing
your luck, Mannix.

Mrs. Farrell hired me
to protect her.

Now, you bother her
once more, Tommy,

or you even show your face
anywhere near her,

the police are going
to get a call

about a punk who's got
an L.A. arrest record...

and a general all-around pest.

Now, if that
doesn't work, Tommy,

you and I are going
to have to have

another one of our little talks.

By

Do you think
he'll bother me again, Joe?

Eh, that's hard to say.

He's a bad boy.

I do attract the bad ones,
don't I?

Well, I don't know.

Do you?

Now, that doesn't usually come
with the service.

I'm glad you're selective.

Operator , Tulare.

All I have is vodka.

All right?

It's fine.

Water?

Uh, just ice, thanks.

Don't you think you ought
to do something

about Operator , Tulare?

It can wait.

It might be something important.

It might even be something
about Tommy Ryker.

Ryker?

He's from Tulare.

What are you trying to say, Joe?

I'm saying, Liz,
I'd like the truth...

about him and about you.

Al right.

I met him last year in Tulare.

That's where I'm from,
not Santa Rosa.

We went out for a while.

Then he got serious
and I told him

I thought
we'd better call it quits.

But he didn't agree.

A day later, just as though
nothing had happened,

he was knocking at my door.

I wouldn't let him in,
so he broke it down.

Then, one night
when I was waiting for a date,

I saw Tommy parked outside.

When my date arrived,
Tommy frightened him away.

So I decided to come to Los
Angeles, but Tommy followed me.

Liz...

why didn't you tell me
all of this in the first place?

Yes, wouldn't
that have sounded wonderful?

Mr. Mannix, I got involved
with this animal

because I'm a lonely
and vulnerable woman

who desperately needed someone.

But it was a mistake,
Mr. Mannix,

so will you please help me out?

Joe...

You may not believe it,
but I do have some pride.

Liz...

I couldn't tell you,
don't you see?

Take it easy.

It's going to be all right.

Your g*n.

Oh, not again, Tommy.

Your g*n.

You were in there a long time--
more than two hours.

We were talking about you.

No kidding.

What did she say?

She said you were
a fine, upstanding young man.

{

Well, she ought to know.

Now let's go.

Where?

A ride... for that little talk
you promised me.

I told you
you were pressing your luck.

Now drive.

By

Stop here.

Get out.

All right, get up.

On your feet.

By

by

by

by

How's it going?

Just about through.

From the b*ating he took,
I'd say he's fine.

We found your car, Joe.

And I telephoned
Elizabeth Farrell

at the Holiday House for you.

Thanks, Art.

Is she all right?

She checked out;
no forwarding address.

There. Couple days rest,

and you can go out
and do it all over again.

Oh, sign out with the nurse
when you leave.

You told the officer
it was Tommy Ryker.

That's right, Art. Pick him up.

We did, a few hours ago.

Where?

In his car, in Malibu Creek,

upside down, at the bottom
of a -foot drop.

Dead?

All the way.

How'd it happen?

We don't know yet.

We're pulling the car out now.

Cll sent down
a full profile on Ryker.

Three as*ault-and-battery
arrests,

two dismissed
for lack of evidence,

one where
no charges were preferred--

That's the one here in L.A.

One , he pleaded no contest.

One armed robbery,
dismissed for lack of evidence.

Yeah, well, he must
have had a good lawyer.

Oh, another thing we learned.

Three years ago,
the vice president

of the Tulare Trust Company,
one Carl Johnson,

was delivering $ , in cash
and negotiable securities

to a savings and loan
across town.

At high noon,
on the busiest street in Tulare,

a man forced his way
into Johnson's car,

p*stol-whipped him
and made off with the money.

Now, Johnson was critically
injured-- he almost d*ed--

But he made
a positive identification--

A former employee, a bank guard,

named Thomas Francis Ryker.

That wasn't on the arrest sheet.

No, it wasn't.

Because at the precise
time of the crime,

Ryker was miles away,
in San Diego,

being booked for drunk driving.

And the loot
was never recovered.

Well, some of it was--

$ , in cash
and some securities,

found on a boat belonging
to a small-time Tulare grifter

and ex-prize fighter
named Joseph Devaney.

Are you saying that he's
the one that hit Johnson?

Devaney looked enough
like Ryker to make it easy

to understand Johnson's
mistaken identification.

What happened to him?

He was k*lled
when his cabin cruiser

exploded off Baja.

A classic boating accident:
gasoline leaking into the bilge

and somebody lit the stove
or a cigarette, and bang.

Convenient.

More than convenient--
it closed the case.

What about
the rest of the money?

They figure he
stashed it somewhere.

Maybe he did.

Maybe.

But last week, the three-year
statute of limitation,

on that particular crime,
expired.

Oh, you're not suggesting
a conspiracy,

that someone's
been sitting on that money

these past three years?

The banker, Johnson,

is still working
at the same job, same desk.

But last week,

the same day
the statute expired,

Johnson took a vacation.

Fishing.

In Canada.

Well, if he sends in
his resignation from Tahiti,

you'll have a pretty good idea
what happened.

Joe...
Yeah?

Elizabeth Farrell.

What about her?

Up until six weeks ago, she
was Carl Johnson's secretary.

Joe!

How do you feel?

Well, like a million.

Half a million bumps,
half a million bruises.

Oh, Joe, your client's upstairs.

Peggy told me
you had some trouble.

It was Tommy, wasn't it?

Liz...

Where'd you go last night?

After you left, I decided
not to take any chances.

So I checked out of the hotel,

I drove around
till the sun came up.

Are you all right?

I'm fine.

It was Tommy.

Well... he won't
be bothering you anymore.

He's dead.

He missed a curve
on Malibu Canyon Road.

I'm glad he's dead.

I'm sorry to have
to say it, but I'm glad.

I knew it was bad
the first minute I met him.

I worked at a bank in Tulare.

Tommy had been a guard there.

I really make
the best scrambled eggs.

I'm afraid it's
gonna have to wait.

I have to go out of town.

Mm.

Where?

Tulare.

If you want something,
why don't you speak up?

Everyone looked busy.

Everyone is.

My name is Mannix.

Uh, I'm from Los Angeles.

My name is Horton.
Myra Horton.

I'm from here,
and I own this place.

Such as it is.

Now, what can I do for you?

I'd like to see
some of your back issues.

All you got to do is ask.

What issues you interested in?

Well, about four years ago,
a woman named Elizabeth Farrell

lost her husband and daughter
in a car crash.

Elizabeth Farrell...

Yeah, blonde, very attractive,

about , worked in the bank.

He means Liz.

Oh, Liz Farrell! Sure!

Whatever gave you the notion
that Liz had a daughter?

She didn't?
None that I ever saw,

and I've known Liz Farrell
for at least ten years.

Never had a husband, either.

Never needed one.

He knows everything,
that boy Richard.

It was Carl Johnson
over at the bank, wasn't it?

That's what they say.

They were pretty close,
Carl and Liz.

She was his secretary, you know.

No, it was the sister
that was k*lled

in the car crash,
and the sister's husband.

When was that?

Oh... two,
two and a half months ago,

wasn't it? In Boston?

Seven weeks ago,
Hartford, Connecticut.

That's right.

Liz's niece came here
to live with her

right after the accident.

Her niece?

The sister's child.

Poor little thing.

She wasn't here a week when
Liz quit her job and left town.

Is, uh...
that Liz Farrell's niece?

Pretty child, ain't she?

Is that her, Mrs. Horton?

Don't know.

I never saw her.

I told you she
wasn't here even a week.

By

Her name was Ann Marie Stevens.

She was my niece.

Her mother and father were
k*lled in an auto accident.

She'd only been with me
a few days when we left Tulare

to get away from Tommy.

We lived in a motel
in Santa Monica for a month.

Then that terrible day
when we went to the parade.

When the bleachers collapsed,
I was knocked unconscious.

I awoke in an ambulance,
and I heard them talking

about the little girl
who'd been k*lled.

I couldn't claim her.

Our names would be in the paper,

and Tommy would
know where to find me.

He found me, anyway.

I'm so ashamed.

So terribly, terribly ashamed.

Help me, Joe.

Please help me.

Sure, Liz.

After you tell me the truth.

That is the truth.

The rest of it, Liz, all of it.

No more stories about

disappearing
husbands and daughters

and restful European tours--
just the truth, huh?

No matter what I said,
you wouldn't believe me now.

Try me.

You can start
with Carl Johnson and...

$ , .

It was a faked robbery.

It was staged
by Carl and Tommy Ryker.

Tommy Ryker was
in jail in San Diego,

and there was nothing fake
about Johnson's injuries.

There was a third man.
Joe Devaney.

He's the one who
actually att*cked Carl.

They paid him off
when he left for Mexico.

They paid him off, all right.

What happened
to the rest of the money?

Carl has this place
near Sequoia,

a cabin.

Go on.

One morning
a couple of months ago,

we were up there.

Carl was out fishing.

I was cleaning
around the fireplace,

and I noticed
a couple of loose rocks.

They wouldn't
push back in quite evenly,

so I pulled them out,
and there was the money.

I was still sitting
on the floor,

the money all around me,
all those bills,

when Carl came back.

Since I knew about the money,

he decided to tell me
the rest of it.

It was his idea for me
to be nice to Tommy.

"Life insurance” he called it.

Only for a couple of months,
until the statutes expired.

Then they'd be in the clear.

Yeah, well, the way Tommy
was chasing you around,

those "life insurance” premiums
must have been very tasty.

Do you think I enjoyed it?

It went on for a month,
maybe a little longer.

Then I simply couldn't stand it.

A few days after Ann Marie
came to live with me, I ran.

Not far enough.

No, not far enough.

Why did you stop?

I came to you
for help, remember?

The night Tommy Ryker
was k*lled,

you got a phone call
from Tulare.

What was that all about?

I placed the call to Carl.

Why?

Tell him Tommy had found me.

What did he say?

I never spoke to him.

That's right;
he's on vacation.

"Vacation.”

You know what that means,
don't you?

Yeah, he's sitting
somewhere fat and happy

with $ , .

Doesn't that bother you?

Why should it bother me?

I'm out of it.

I don't want any part
of Carl or his money.

I'm glad to hear that, Liz,

'cause I'm going
to make an appointment

for you to see the DA
tomorrow.

What?!

A crime was committed.

You have vital evidence
in the case.

Joe, the statutes have expired.

Nobody can be prosecuted now.

They could be... for m*rder.

Joe Devaney.

That classic boat accident

was just a little too classic.

I've been withholding evidence.

I can go to prison.

I doubt it.

Not if you help break the case.

Joe, haven't |
been punished enough?!

Will you look
at that poor little child!

I'll suffer from that
for the rest of my life.

Isn't that enough?

Joe, let Carl have his money.

Liz, you're the only one that
can blow the whistle on Carl.

Unless you do,
you'll never be safe.

He wouldn't hurt me;
I know he wouldn't.

That's a sucker's play.

Go to the DA,
let him help you.

Joe, I want you to help me.

I will... if you go in.

What, and make
an honest woman of myself?

Why not?

Would you go with me?

Sure.

And stand by me?

Of course.

Al right.

Uh, Peggy,

call the Tulare Gazette and ask
for a reporter named Richard.

Does he have a last name?

Oh, he doesn't need one.

Ask him if he knows
where in Canada

Carl Johnson
does his fishing, huh?

Carl Johnson...

You going fishing?
Yeah, something like that.

Oh, and when you hear Liz
rattling around upstairs,

tell her I'll
pick her up at noon,

and we'll keep
her appointment, huh?

I'll tell her, Joe.

I thought you'd be interested

in the investigating
officer's report

of this Tommy Ryker accident.

The way it looks,

he simply drove straight
through that guardrail.

There were no skid marks.

Either that or he parked,
passed out,

and the car rolled.

Was the car in gear?

Yeah, it was in drive.

But he had an alcoholic
content reading of . .

He could have knocked it
out of park accidentally.

Two men connected
to the same crime,

Devaney and Tom Ryker,

both victims
of classic accidents.

Neat coincidence.

That's what I thought.

I'd sure like to have a talk
with this Carl Johnson.

If you find him, let me know.

I'd like to talk to him myself.

Oh, Joe,

I spoke to Richard no-last-name,

and he hasn't the slightest idea
where Johnson's fishing.

As far as he knows,
Johnson did all of his fishing

at a cabin near Sequoia.

"Did"-- past tense?

Mm-hmm.
Cabin b*rned down two years ago.

Two years?!

You sure
he didn't say two months?

He was very definite:

years.

She told me she found the money
in the cabin a few months ago.

Fred Ritchie, please.

Fred, Joe Mannix.

Favor.

Sometime in the last hour,

a pickup was made
at Paseo Verde.

Where did the cab go?

Slip , the marina.

By

by

by

{cocks g*n

Well, Mr. Carl Johnson.

Mr. Mannix.

And the lady known as Liz.

You were in this
from the beginning, huh, Liz?

I'm sorry, Joe.

Did Tommy Ryker know
about all of this?

No.

Very neat.

Very nice.

About six weeks ago,
you sent Liz down here

and convinced Tommy that, uh,
she'd taken off with the money.

You planned to meet
her here on the boat,

and the two of you take
a pleasant little cruise,

and, uh, everybody lives happily
and profitably, ever after.

Everybody but Tommy Ryker,
that is.

Joe, please.

It would have worked, too, Liz,

if Tommy hadn't seen
your niece's picture

in the newspapers
and tracked you down.

That's where I came in.

Perfect, made to order.

One way or another I'd take care
of Tommy Ryker for you.

That's not true.

Mannix, what do you want?

You, Johnson.

So you can explain a couple of
classic accidents to the police.

Get his g*n.

Hurry up!

Do what he says.

You wait here.

I'll be back in a minute.

Carl, what are you going to do?

You know perfectly well
what he's going to do, Liz.

Come on.
Carl, don't.

Shut up!

Let's go!

Move!

By

Joe!

By

Joe, that money.

$ , .

Who would ever know?

I'd know.

Liz...

...this g*n you threw me;
it's mine.

It saved your life, Joe.

Where'd you get it?

Tommy Ryker had it last.

You saw him the night
his car went over the cliff

in Malibu, didn't you?

It was pretty easy
for you to get him drunk,

and when he passed out,
you took my g*n from him.

You then got out of the car,
slipped it into drive

and let it roll over the cliff.

No.

Liz, you left a trail
to this boat

even a Boy Scout could follow.

You wanted me to find you.

You figured I'd
k*ll Johnson for you,

like you figured I'd k*ll Tommy,

only that one backfired,
and you had to do it yourself.

You're wrong.

Maybe in a few
of the details, Liz,

but the overall theory
makes sense.

Art?

Okay, Joe, I'll expect you
downtown in the morning

for a complete statement.

You too, Mrs. Farrell.

Mrs. Farrell wants to...

...tell you about Tommy Ryker.

What about Tommy Ryker?

Is that how you want it, Joe?

That's how it has to be, Liz.