08x09 - Picture of a Shadow

[bunniefuu]

♪♪

♪♪

Peggy, that call
may help pay for your salary.

Mr. Mannix's office.

Oh, yes, he is.
Who's calling, please?

Just a moment.

Joe... a Ray Jordan.

Ray Jordan?

Put him on.

Ray Jordan-- now, there's
a voice out of the past.

How long has it been,
uh, four years?

Five?

Hey, what are you up to, Ray?

Ah. Well, what can I do for you?

Yeah, sure, if it's important.

In that case, I'll make time.

Yeah, where in the marina?

-D...

Mariner's Bay.

Got it.

Okay, I'll, uh, I'll be there...
oh, within the hour, huh?

Right.

Joe, we've got
a desk full of work to do.

Oh, yeah. Well, uh,

you'd better
hop right on it, Peggy.

Joe, who's Ray Jordan?

Well, I guess you
could call him a salesman.

He's into yachts now.

I helped him out of
a couple of scrapes in Korea.

He figures he owes me
a day on the water.

I'll call you, huh?

He figures you'll
probably buy a yacht.

In that case,
I'll call you from Honolulu.

♪♪

Well, I must admit, this is
the only way to live, Ray.

Kooky, isn't it?
When I quit the army

I spent a year
feeling sorry for myself.

Yeah, and came up
smelling like a rose.

Born to sell yachts.

I'm Raymond!
Sail me!

Funny thing, Joe,
turns out I'm pretty good.

Hey, um, what do you get
for a tub like this, Ray?

$ , .

But you're an old friend,

so I'll let you
have it for $ , .

Well, now, that's incredible.
How did you know

that's exactly what
I had in my piggy bank?

Joe, I didn't bring you out here
to sell you a yacht.

I'm glad to hear that, Ray.

I was about to go into hock.

$ , would make
an acceptable down payment.

Uh...

what are you selling, Ray?

A chance for you to pick up
an easy G's.

Is that why you
brought me aboard?

Long time since
we've seen each other.

Come on, Ray, you don't
have to con me. sh**t.

Pick it up a bit, Digger!

Right-o!

We'd better get some canvas up.

Well, Joe, interested?

Well, fill me in and we'll see.
Couple of weeks ago,

a big fella in the hotel
business was knocked off.

Yeah, Mark Bradford.

The Bradford chain is offering
$ , for information

leading to the arrest
and conviction of the hit man.

Hit man?

The papers said that
he walked in on a burglar

working his hotel suite.

That's not the way
it happened, Joe.

I can give you the k*ller.

And we split the reward?
Right.

Well, why split
with me at all, Ray?

A phone call'||
get you police headquarters.

Can't do that, Joe.

If I stay in the shadows
I... keep on living.

And that's worth paying you
half the reward money.

What's wrong?

Head for the harbor patrol!

Sorry, Joe, I don't buy
word one of Jordan's story.

Yeah, well, somebody bought it.

According to Cap St. Rose
over at the boatyard,

Jordan worked for him--
as a salesman.

Now, what's a guy selling yachts

doing with information
about Mark Bradford's death?

Trying to cash in on it.

Otherwise, why would he bring me
all the way down here?

Maybe he thought
he had something.

Well, if that's all it was,
why was he sh*t?

How would I know that?

Maybe he sold somebody
a leaky yacht.

Well, I still say you're
gonna find there's a connection

between the Bradford m*rder
and this sh**ting.

If I do, you win
the life-size teddy bear.

Come on,
I'll take you to your car.

Joe Mannix.

Yeah, what's the message?

Did she leave a name?

How long ago did she call?

Thanks.

This is Joe Mannix.
Uh, can I help you?

I can help you, Mr. Mannix.
How?

With information
about Ray Jordan's m*rder.

Who are you?

Ray made you an offer,
didn't he? Today on the boat.

Did he?

Yes.

I'm making you the same offer.

Well, it's a little tough
to deal on the telephone.

Where are you?

Are you interested?

I'm interested.
Where are you?

Amber Road.

It's on the beach,
a mile south of Paradise Cove.

Okay, that's where you are.

Now, you mind
telling me who you are?

You'll know when you get here.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Come on,
let's get her out of here!

How you feeling, Joe?

Uh, just super.

Maybe the doc
should check you out.

Later.

You don't feel
you were set up, huh?

Now, who's gonna k*ll
two people just to sap me?

Although that makes
about as much sense

as anything else
that's happened today.

That's where you found her,
huh, in there on the bed?

Yeah, facedown.
How close did you get to her?

Uh, edge of the bed.

You're sure, Joe, she was dead?

Okay, okay.

But why sap you and do a
disappearing act with the body?

I mean, if it was a frame,
they would've left the body

and your fingerprints
all over the woodwork.

Yeah. Whoever did it,
tore this place apart

looking for something--
something worth $ , .

The car outside is
registered to Carol Britton.

Carol Britton, the photographer?

She's one of the top
photographers in the country.

I've-I've seen her stuff
in Newsworld.

What would a girl like Carol
Britton fit into a shakedown...

and with a boat hustler
like Ray Jordan?

I don't know, Joe,
but the car is hers,

the house is in her name.

This stuff is hers, too.

Oh.

There she is.

Carol Britton.

She's beautiful.

And famous and talented.

And dead.

How are we doing, Perry?

Ah, not getting too much.

Well, they probably
wore gloves anyway.

Well, let's go.

Joe?

Huh?

Let's go.

Yeah, I know.

It's always tougher when
they're young and beautiful.

You don't just pick up
a telephone

and replace a Carol Britton,
Mr. Mannix.

We'll be hunting
for a long time.

Lieutenant Malcolm tells me

you found Carol's body
out at her beach house.

Yeah, that's right.

And that you're
a private investigator.

Right again.

I don't quite understand.

It's usual for a man
to be retaining your business,

isn't it, Mr. Mannix?

It's usual.

Do you have a client?

Yes.

Miss Britton.

Carol had that effect
on people she met.

I never met her.

But you were at her house...
: in the morning.

Yeah, she called me and said

she had some information
on the Bradford k*lling.

Bradford? The hotel man?

That's what she said.

But why would she call you?

You'd never met.

I mean, if she had anything to
hide on the Bradford sh**ting,

she would have called
the police.

I guess I was a better bet
than the police.

Bet?

Well, the hotel people offered
a grand reward

to whoever turned up Mark
Bradford's k*ller or K*llers.

Miss Britton offered
to split it with me.

The reward?

Mm.

for her end, for mine.

I don't believe it.

Not a damn word!

I knew Carol.

For how long and how well?

Three years and very well.

From the day she came in this
office and hit me for a job.

She sat right there
in the chair you're sitting in.

Ah, not what we want.

It's too local.

That's not bad.

How did a nice girl like you get

in the locker room
at the Super Bowl?

I walked in.

Nobody stopped you?

Nobody usually stops me,
Mr. Larsen.

And nobody ever did.

She walked in on the world
with a camera in her hand,

and nobody stopped her,
Mr. Mannix, ever.

Till last night.

Right.

What about men in her life?

I never knew about them.

Carol was a very private person.

Friends?

Well, the shop is full of them.

Mr. Larsen...
Oh, excuse me.

That's all right, Jim.
Come on in.

Mr. Mannix,
this is Jim Barnard.

He's in charge of our photo lab.

Jim.
How do you do?

I just need your okay
on those hurricane prints.

These are fine, Jim.

Thank you.

Mr. Mannix found Carol.

Oh. I still can't get myself
to believe it happened.

Carol was one hell of a lady,
Mr. Mannix, you can believe it.

I do.

You with the police?

No. Private.

I certainly hope you nail
whoever Kkilled her,

because they don't make ladies
like her twice.

You can believe that,
Mr. Mannix. I know.

I was there to see it.

In Vietnam, in the outskirts of
a little city called Quang Tree.

Ah, I'm sorry, Mac. I didn't...

Oh.

Lady, what are you doing
in my shell hole?

My shell hole, soldier,
and what I'm doing in it is...

Praying!

And apparently, not hard enough.

This is some w*r, huh?

Why don't they make these things

with hot and cold running beer,
something?

Are you...
what, are you a correspondent?

Yeah, Newsworld.

Newsworld. Hmm.

I know you now.

You're the lady
with the beautiful...

...camera.

I didn't see Carol again
till after the w*r.

She was doing a feature
on a veterans' hospital,

and I was there.

She spotted me
and the crutch I was on.

Anyway, a year ago,
when I got out...

She twisted my arm

to take him on
as a lab assistant.

Like I said, Mr. Mannix,
she was a lovely lady.

Get who k*lled her... for me.

See what I mean?

Carol was everybody's
dream girl.

She couldn't have been mixed up
in a shakedown.

Something's wrong somewhere.

You got the wrong girl,
that's all.

Yeah.

You said that Jim was in charge
of your photo lab?

That's right, he is.

Fast promotion.

I mean, fora G.I.
just a year out of the hospital.

He's a very competent guy.

Besides, I needed somebody to
move up into Bill Webb's spot.

Webb?
Jim's boss.

He was k*lled
in a hit-and-run accident.

When?

About three or four weeks ago.

Bill Webb was the finest
darkroom man in the business.

Nothing he couldn't do
with film.

Any trace of the car
that hit him?

No.

Well, thanks, Mr. Larsen.

By the way, uh,

what was the exact date
Webb was k*lled?

August .

August the twelfth, Art.

Oh, Webb's death could be just
a coincidence, Joe.

Just two days
after Bradford was sh*t.

It's too close.

The Webb file, Lieutenant.

Oh, thanks, Charlie.

Any arrests after the accident?

No.

Witnesses?

Yeah, a Chicano garage man
near the scene of the accident.

But I still don't see
the connection

between Bill Webb's death
and Bradford's m*rder.

Let's take a look
at the pattern, Art.

Now, Ray Jordan had
some information to sell

on the hotel tycoon, Bradford,
and he was k*lled on the boat.

Carol Britton sounded

as if she wanted a piece
of the reward action,

and she was k*lled...
same night.

The beach house.

Bill Webb, uh,
worked with Carol Britton

at Newsworld... in the lab.

He was k*lled-- hit-and-run.

Now, the chain has got to start
with Bill Webb.

Ah, I suppose you could build
a chain out of it, but, uh...

But there's always Art Malcolm's

little old law of coincidence,
right?

Show me a reason to repeal it.

I'll try and dig you up one.

Sure, I saw the whole thing.

Well, can you tell me about it--

You know, the make of car,
uh, anything?

I already told the cops.

It's all in the report.

You know, it-it was too dark
over there to be sure.

No streetlight.

You know, some dumb kid
must have broke it.

This guy was crossing
the street.

The car came out
of nowhere, man. Wham!

Knocked him maybe feet.

Came out of nowhere, huh?

Mm-hmm.

Are you saying

that the car didn't have
its headlights on?

Hey.

I never thought about that.

Look, the lights were on

when he was hit.

I wouldn't have seen anything
otherwise.

You didn't see the headlights
approaching the man?

Maybe I wasn't looking
until the sound.

Now you told me you saw the man
crossing the street.

Well, if so, you had to see
the headlights if they were on.

Maybe I...

I didn't see them,
but I just figured,

you know, they had to be on.

Well...

thanks for talking to me.

Long day?

Any calls?

Only a few
of your impatient clients

wondering what Mr. Mannix
is doing for them.

Yeah, well,
I'll get to them tomorrow.

What are you doing, Joe?

Shouldn't you be
on your way home?

I just left.

Good night, Peg.

See you in the morning, Joe.

Mannix.

Hey, Mr. Mannix,
this here is Miguel,

the guy you talked to.

Right. The auto shop.

Look, man, about the hit-run--
I think I got something for you.

What is it, Miguel?

It's my pal from Oxnard.

He-he's got a body shop
up there.

Couple of weeks ago,

this guy brought in a big sedan
with front-end damage.

L.A. registration.

Are you with me?

What makes you think
it's a hit-and-run car?

Jose was taking off
the broken headlight,

and he found a little piece
of suede leather.

The guy who was hit
was wearing a jacket like that.

I was the first one to him.

I know, man.

Can Jose describe the man
that brought the car in?

For bread he can.

Enough bread.

Where can I talk to him?

Jose and me got
to pick up some chicks,

but if-if you don't waste
any time, we'll be here.

Pullmer...

out in the Valley.

Right.

Okay, Miguel, you did good.

Now go on home and forget it.

Oh, M... Miguel?

You have a nice little family,
haven't you?

I'm sure you wouldn't want
anything to happen to them,

would you?

Let's try a dry run.

One.

And two.

And whammo!

♪♪

Miguel?

Anybody home?

Honest, Mr. Mannix, I didn't
want to do it.

I told the man no.

You did make the call, Miguel.

You did set me up.

I didn't have any choice,
Mr. Mannix.

They held a g*n to my head.

They said
they would hurt my kids.

I want to know who they are.

I never saw them before.

Honest, Mr. Mannix.

They didn't tell me their names.

You can describe them.

What do you mean by that?

You saw them, didn't you?

Senor, my kids.

They say they will hurt my kids.

Okay, Miguel, forget it.

I'm sorry.

You are off duty?

Ten minutes ago.

Sorry I kept you waiting.

Cheers.

Joe, level with me.

What is
this public service kick?

What do you mean?

I mean, if you were in it
for the Bradford reward money,

I could understand it.

$ , .

That would be nice.
But that's not it, right?

Art, someone is trying
to k*ll me

or hasn't that gotten
through to you?

Yeah.

Now, what do you say
we start to work?

Where do you want to start?

Start.

Mark Bradford.

Well, I buy
the surprised burglar.

Several valuable pieces
were taken

from Bradford's hotel suite,

and that joint was ransacked.

Oh, no, no, no, if Ray Jordan
had something on the burglar,

he would've turned him in
and collected the reward.

He wouldn't have offered me
half the loot to front for him.

All right, if the burglary
evidence was a cover,

tell me where we are.

What do you know
about Mark Bradford?

I know what everybody knows.

He was a self-made man.

He started in the hotel business
as a bellhop,

and the chain he left behind is
one of the biggest in the world.

Money problems?

None that showed up,

and with a partner
like Lyle Kilburn,

how could he have
money problems?

Kilburn?

I just dug that up this morning.

Thanks a lot.

I don't know what difference
he makes anyway.

Oh, you don't, huh?

Kilburn is only
up on a felony charge.

All right, he was a bad boy.

He got in a jam with the SEC
and he perjured himself.

He's still one
of the richest men in the state.

Art,

where is Kilburn's present home
away from home?

Federal Correctional
Institution at Beauville.

This may look like
a country club, Mr. Mannix,

but when you're shut up in here,
you know it's a prison.

You seem to be taking
it well, Mr. Kilburn.

Not getting
a lot of sleep lately.

Why not?

My partner's m*rder.

I hear the police think
it was a burglar.

There are a lot
of burglars in here.

One of them probably has
an ice pick with my name on it.

Are you telling me

that you believe Mark Bradford
was a contract hit?

A contract with two names on it
Mr. Mannix,

Mark Bradford's and mine.

The syndicate wants
Bradford Hotels International.

And Bradford wouldn't deal?

Neither would I.

See, the hotels were more
than property to Mark.

They were his life.

I understood that.

I'm not certain
he would've chosen

to die for them.

I know damn well
I don't want to.

I take it you don't have
the same sentiments

for the hotels
that your partner did?

No, not really.

Then you would sell, right?

No,
Bradford Hotels International

is not going
to become a worldwide laundry

for their tainted money.

I gave Mark my solemn word

when they made their offer.

I'd say you have a problem.

Joe, there really are
some things here

you must take care of.

Yeah, later, Peggy;
I just came by to change.

Then where?

I'm going over
to Carol Britton's place.

I think you've got the number.

What's there, Joe?

Maybe some answers.

Joe,

did you know her

a long time ago?

Larsen over at Newsworld
asked me that same question.

No, I didn't know her.

First time I ever saw her was
in that photograph

the night she was k*lled.

Strange,

a girl you're never going
to be able to meet or talk to

or take to dinner,

yet you think about her.

You know it's a waste
of time and yet...

♪♪

♪♪

Who are you?

Lieutenant Malcolm.

Come in, Lieutenant;
I'm Carol Britton.

Mannix gave me the gist
of it on the telephone.

You were on a boat
down in Mexico for three days?

Yes, La Paz and Cabo San Lucas

with friends,
Brian and Mimsy Sinclair.

We'll have to check on that.

I hope you understand,
Miss Britton.

Of course.
They live in the Malibu Colony.

Number .

They're in the book.

You didn't know anything
about the m*rder

until you got back,
is that correct?

No, not until Mr. Mannix
told me.

You didn't hear
a news broadcast on the radio?

No, it's a little hard to pull
in an American station

from the Cape, Lieutenant.
Art, uh,

there's something you ought
to look into right away,

something I didn't know
when we called you.

It's about the other girl.

You know
who she might have been?

Yeah, I'm pretty sure
it was Vera Webb.

Any connection with the Webb

that used to work
with you at Newsworld?

She was his wife.

They've been separated
about six months.

Why was she staying here?

Well, she asked to stay
with me for a few days

after Bill was k*lled
by a hit-and-run driver.

She still cared for him

even though
they weren't living together.

Miss Britton, is there...

is there any possibility
that Mrs. Webb was k*lled

by someone
who mistook her for you?

Yeah, that notion has been
suggested to me, Lieutenant.

Did she look like you?

No, not really.

Did anyone know
she was staying here?

Not that I know of.

That was Vera's whole purpose
for coming here, to get away.

Lieutenant,
who would want to k*ll me?

Or Vera?

Carol, did you ever have
any contact with Mark Bradford?

Well, I wouldn't exactly
call it contact.

What does that mean?

I was at the Bradford Hotel
when he was sh*t.

I was covering a Japanese
Industrial Exhibit

for Newsworld.

When I came out,
I saw some people

kind of gathering
around an ambulance,

so I grabbed a couple of sh*ts.

It was more or less
out of instinct.

But I-I've never seen Bradford
before in my life.

First time through
the range-finder in my camera,

dead.

Well,

I'll appreciate it

if you'll come down to my office
in the morning, Miss Britton.

Certainly. I've got to get
back downtown now.

Oh, thank you, Miss Britton.

You coming, Joe?

I-I'll see you later, Art.

But there has to be a motive.

You're a detective.

Doesn't there have
to be a motive?

I mean, you don't
simply k*ll someone

because she lives
in a beach house.

Or is this the year for it?

From all you read
in the papers these days,

this could be the year
for anything.

And why did they take
her body away?

Well, the police thought
you were dead.

Maybe the k*ller figured he'd
get another cr*ck at you

before they found out
their mistake.

Ooh, is my hysteria showing?

A little.

Doesn't it ever stop, Joe?

What's that?

The k*lling.

Can try to stop it.

How?

Let's start with Mark Bradford.

You said you were
at the Bradford Hotel

when he was k*lled.

Yes.

And you said that people
were crowding in.

Yes.

Hey, wait a minute.

Do you suppose
I might have caught someone

in one of my sh*ts--
I mean, the m*rder*r?

Well, whoever k*lled Vera Webb
ripped your place apart

looking for something.

Yeah, and I'm not
the kind of girl

who keeps diamonds
in her mattress.

Maybe it was worth more
than diamonds to the k*ller.

A negative.

Yeah, that's where
I'm putting my money.

Vera Webb called me
the night she was k*lled.

She had information--
or so she said--

About the Bradford m*rder.

What information?

She didn't get to tell me.

Did Vera know a man named
Ray Jordan-- a boat salesman?

Yes.

How well did she know him?

Well, she was...

she was living with him
when Bill was k*lled.

Uh, she felt
really badly about it

and it was a mess.

Where is Ray now?

Where Vera is.

Dead?

The three of them?

Vera and Bill and Ray Jordan.

And Bradford.

Don't forget Bradford.

Carol.

What?

I've, uh, got a feeling that
someone is very disappointed

that you and I aren't
in the obituary column, too.

Do you suppose he'll keep trying
till he puts us there?

I'm afraid so.

What do we do, Joe, wait?

I'm terrible at it.

Maybe we could switch games
on him...

make him play our game.

Does it have a name?

Yeah.

What?

Target.

I don't like it, Joe.

Cheese-- that's what
you're using her for.

Supposing the guy smells
the trap.

Oh, he won't if he doesn't see
your big feet under the drapes.

Miss Britton, I don't care
where Mannix sticks his neck,

but I don't want
you risking yours.

Oh, but, Lieutenant,
you'll be right behind us

if anything happens, won't you?

Way behind.

...Montego is third,
Breakaway is fourth.

And here comes Red Sand.

Red Sand getting through
on the rail.

It's Red Sand now getting
the lead by a head.

Katy's Trim
on the outside in second.

They're in the stretch now

with Katy's Trim
on the outside in front.

By a head, Red Sand is second.

It's now Red Sand in front.

Red Sand and Katy's Trim.

Red Sand is going out
in the front.

It's Red Sand
now going on to winning it.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

I know we've been doing this
all night,

but, uh, whose benefit
was that for?

Ours.

I knew it.

That's why it was so great.

♪♪

Carol.
Very touching.

Now, just maintain
that position.

Well, the Beauville slammer
must have

some far-out ideas
on prisoner recreation.

The guard captain and I have
an agreeable arrangement.

And profitable for both of you.

Very profitable.

Captain gets a big hunk of cash

and, uh, you get
to knock off Mark Bradford.

With a perfect alibi.

You never left the country club.

Beautiful, isn't it?

Hmm.

I thought the syndicate wanted
the Bradford Hotels.

Oh, I am the syndicate, Mannix.

Three more months in the rigid
confines of Beauville

and the big gate opens.

I take over... everything.

Unless a certain picture falls
into the wrong hands.

Miss Britton?

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

Miss Britton, you're not going
to pretend that I didn't show up

in one of those pictures
you took at the Bradford.

I don't know.

Outside the hotel...

you aimed your camera
at Bradford's body

as they put him
in the ambulance.

Now, what about those?

I'm not sure, I didn't see them.

You're lying.

Your lab man Bill Webb showed me

what he cropped out
of your pictures.

There happened to be
a remarkably good likeness of me

getting into a car
in the background.

Your Mr. Webb wanted
a sizable piece of money for it.

Now...

do I get to know where
you've hidden that negative?

Or do I spoil that pretty face?

Hold it, chum.

Don't be stupid, Kilburn.

Am I being stupid, Miss Britton?

Joe.

It's all right, honey,
he can't afford to k*ll you.

Can't I?

Can he, Joe?

No, 'cause if he does,

he'll never get
that negative he's after,

and when it does turn up,
the cops will nail him,

so he's got to deal.

Oh, I can take a chance
it won't turn up.

No way, Kilburn, not when
I tell you who's got it.

Who's got it?

Deal?

All right, what's the deal?

First get the ape to take
the cannon out of my back.

Arnold.

Don't trust him, boss.

Put the g*n down, Arnold.

Yeah, but, boss...

Arnold was right.

I shouldn't have trusted you.

Well, I guess
that just about does it.

One for the road, Lieutenant?

Oh, no, I'm still on duty.

Some other time, I hope.

Thanks anyway.

Joe, are you...?

Forget it.

I knew you were a great
photographer and beautiful.

Now it turns out
you also make a perfect martini.

As the French would say...

...that is formidable.

Yeah, but I'm a lousy cook.

You know what?

You're pretty formidable
yourself.