08x16 - Edge of the Web

[bunniefuu]

Yes?

Uh, I'm Matt Jones.

I had an appointment
with Professor O'Neill.

It's all right, Mrs. McGregor.

Take Plato in the yard
for me, please. Yes, sir.

You may go to bed when you like.

Mrs. O'Neill won't be home
until : .

She's gone to the movies.

MRS. McGREGOR:
Yes, sir. Good night.

Come on in, Jones.

All right, let's get on with it.

Uh, I-I wanted...
I wanted to talk to you.

Yeah, obviously.

Professor, do you... do you know

what it took for me
to work up to my PhD?

I don't doubt for a moment

that it means a great deal
to you.

Possibly
there were other teachers

who bent over backwards
to be... tolerant.

However, in my department,
there are standards to be met.

No one ever had
to bend over backwards for me.

I sweated blood
for every passing grade,

for every dollar of tuition.

So have other students.

I understand
you had help from your father?

That's right. That's right.

Money that came out
of his own mouth.

He's invested ten years
of his life in this degree.

I have never questioned the
effort that went into your work.

It's the quality of that work
that's not up to par.

Are you sure it's my schoolwork
you're talking about?

What else could it be?

You think that I...

What, Jones?!
Speak your mind!

You think that I had something
to do with your wife.

Get out of this house.

I never did! I never did!
Get out of my house!

I was never even alone with her,
not for one time,

except the time it was raining,

I gave her a lift home
in my car.

Get out!
That was it!

That's what's eating at you,
isn't it?!

Professor Pryor told me,
but I didn't believe it.

But it's true, isn't it?!

I think you've said
just about enough!

Alex, are you still up?

Alex, are you still...?

Good morning.

Oh, good morning, miss.

Can I help you?
Uh, yeah.

Uh, Joe Mannix in?

Can I tell him who's calling?

Just tell him Scrapiron Jones.

Scrapiron!
Hey!

You son of a g*n.
How you been?

All right. All right.
Come on in.

Son of a g*n,
what have you been up to?

Uh, same as always.

Getting my brains bashed in

by guys who need a live
punching bag.

Ah, I thought
you gave that up years ago.

Yeah, but I went back to it.

Oh, but look, I can still
take most guys half my age.

Things are tough, huh?

Yeah. Needed some extra dough,
and...

I just don't want my boy
taking too much time away

from working on his PhD.

You remember Matt?

I sure do.

Studying anthropology, Joe.
Rossmore University.

No kidding.
How's he doing?

Been a straight "A" student
since high school.

That's fantastic.

Yeah.

Uh, he's the reason
I'm here, Joe.

Trouble?

He's been arrested for m*rder.

And just who has he supposed
to have k*lled?

The head of his department,
a Professor O'Neill.

Last night,
O'Neill's wife came home

and found him
with his head bashed in

just after Matt had been
in there to see him.

But Matt swears he's innocent,
and I believe my boy, Joe.

Mm.

It just isn't in him
to harm anyone.

Yeah.

Ten years
I've stood up in the ring

and tried to roll
with the punches

all for my boy.

And it's been worth it.

Joe, can you help me?

So, what did
the old man tell you?

Oh, that you weren't capable
of hurting anyone.

Don't you believe it.

I was mad clear through.

If O'Neill hadn't kicked me out
in time, I don't...

...who knows
what I might have done.

Well, then we've got to assume
that whoever did it knew

that you had an appointment
with Professor O'Neill at : ,

and, uh, that it wasn't likely
to be a friendly conversation.

Yeah, that's for certain.
Any ideas?

Oh, the department was full of
people who hated O'Neill's guts.

Students and faculty.

And there was no secret
how he felt about me.

Why?

Um...

Well, O-O'Neill's wife is a...
is a... is a pretty woman,

and, uh, I gave her a lift home
in the rain once,

and he saw her get out
of my car, and, uh...

That's all there was to it?

Are you kidding?! Do you...?

Do you think I would take
that kind of a chance

with my degree
an arm's length away?

Did O'Neill ever
actually accuse you?

No, no, all... all he said was

that the quality
of my work was not up to par.

But his wife told me
that he had accused her.

Yes, sir?

Is Mrs. O'Neill in?

I'm sorry.
She's resting.

Would you tell her
Mr. Mannix is here?

I'm a private investigator.

It's really quite important.

Well, I suppose
it'll be all right.

Hi there, fella. Hi.

Just, uh, what do you want

to see Mrs. O'Neill
about, Mr. Mannix?

Well, I'd like to ask her
a few questions

about Professor O'Neill's death.

The police have been
through this place already.

They've torn it upside down.

I'd really appreciate it.

By the way--
Mrs. McGregor, isn't it?

Yes.
Where did it happen?

In the study.

Mrs. O'Neill found him
behind the desk.

His head was all...

Hmm.

He was, uh, quite a collector,
wasn't he?

Mm.

The professor collected most
of these things in New Guinea.

Uh, tell me,

is it possible that
somebody could have gotten in

through one
of these sliding doors?

Hmm? They were all locked.

Yeah, what about the dog?

Wouldn't he have made
some sort of disturbance

if someone att*cked his master
with a club?

Plato was in the backyard.

But it's funny
you should ask that.

I remember hearing Plato
growling outside

shortly after young Jones left.

Any idea
what he was growling at?

No. When I went out to see
what was wrong, he quieted down.

Yeah.

I'll tell Mrs. O'Neill
you're here,

but I don't think
she'll see you.

Easy boy.

Easy.

Drop that club!

Drop it!

Attaboy. Yeah.

I'm Ruth O'Neill.

Thanks.

I was just about
to have some tea by the pool.

Will you join me?
Thank you.

Make that for two,
Mrs. McGregor.

When Plato was a puppy,

he was nearly beaten to death
by a man with a cane.

Ever since then,
we have been careful

not to go near him
with a stick of any kind.

I'll try to remember that.

Mrs. McGregor says

you're investigating something
about my husband's death?

That's right.

You don't think
Matt Jones did it?

Well, let's just say that
I'm examining every possibility.

Well, how can I help?

Did you know Matt Jones well?

No, not really.

Well, my husband had hundreds
of students.

Then why was your husband
under the impression that...?

Matt Jones and ?

Well, whoever told you
anything like that?

Matt Jones.

He also said it wasn't true.

My husband was
a very jealous man, Mr. Mannix.

I knew how hard
Matt Jones worked,

under what handicaps.

I admired him for that.

I made the mistake
of mentioning to my husband

that Matt had given me
a lift home one afternoon.

With Alex's
feverish imagination,

I guess that was all he needed.

Can you think of anyone

who'd benefit
by your husband's death?

Well, in what way?

Oh, uh, well, who's next in line
for his job, for instance?

Uh, Professor Pryor, I suppose.

But people at universities
don't usually

go around k*lling each other
for better jobs, do they?

Depends on the job.

You all right?

Yeah? Yeah?

How are you doing?

I've had better days.

Ten years of it...

for what, Joe?

Just to see my boy
get that close to making it,

and then end up in the slammer?

You found out anything?

Matt ever mention
or say anything

about a Professor Pryor?

Yeah. Matt told me that...

Professor Pryor
saw Mrs. O'Neill

waiting for the bus,

and suggested
that Matt take her home.

I guess...

I guess that's what started
all the trouble.

Maybe that's exactly
how Professor Pryor figured it.

If you want a eulogy,
Mr. Mannix,

you've come to the wrong man.

I was not exactly
one of Alex O'Neill's fans.

Did he have any?
Maybe his mother.

Not his wife?

Ruth? Are you kidding?

Listen, Mannix,
you may as well know this,

you'll find out anyway.

Ruth and I once had, as the kids
would say, something going.

It's been over
for some time, though.

What made it end?

I got tired of dancing
on thin ice.

She took it pretty hard.

In fact,
she hasn't spoken to me since.

Did O'Neill know about it?

If he had, I don't know
if I'd still be around.

I understand you're next in line

for the chairmanship
of the department.

The detective mentality.

I suppose that's all the proof
you require.

To get promoted, what you do
is k*ll the man above you.

Just like some tribes
in New Guinea.

Look at that.

The Afghanistan Head.

I discovered it.

That should make you a pretty
important man around the campus.

Mr. Mannix,
that is the only death

I've ever been associated with,

and it happened a half million
years before I was born.

It's the earliest example
of Cro-Magnon man ever found.

Now I'm up for
a Jackson Foundation grant,

which will take me
to Iran for two years.

Do you really believe
the height of my ambition

was to be chairman
of this one-horse department?

Well, I just ask the questions,
Professor Pryor.

I don't know
what to think just yet.

I take it you don't think
Matt Jones k*lled O'Neill.

Do you?

Uh-uh. He was one of the best
graduate students I ever had.

Even with O'Neill against him,

he was sure
to get his degree eventually.

Can you think of anyone else
who might have had a motive?

Cheap gossip--
is that what you want?

Well, sometimes,

that's all the detective
mentality has to feed on.

Let's see...

There's a young
assistant professor

in our department, Jim Duncan.

O'Neill had a rather
special dislike for him.

Why?

No idea.

Was the feeling mutual?

Couldn't tell you.

Of course, ever since
Jim Duncan's stint in Vietnam,

he's been soured
on life in general.

He was captured, caught undulant
fever, tried to escape,

wound up with a b*llet
in his leg.

It ruined his tennis game.

Does he walk with a cane?

If you were lame, wouldn't you?

Aristotle said

that man is
by nature a political animal.

We, in anthropology, just say
that he's an animal by nature.

Not necessarily one
of the higher ones.

Okay, people,
that's it for today.

Professor Duncan?

That's right.

You, uh, mind if we talk?

Fine. Mind if we walk?

Not at all.

Who are you?

My name is Mannix.

I'm investigating the death
of Professor O'Neill.

Oh.

Am I a... a suspect now?

It's too bad,
somebody else b*at me to it.

I suppose you can prove that.

Would you settle
for , witnesses?

Well, let's say
I'd be impressed.

Yeah. Well,
I was giving a lecture

at the museum that night.

Well, I guess
that would rule you out.

Anything else?

Yes, uh, one thing.

How well do you know
Ruth O'Neill?

Mr. Mannix, look,
my chasing days are over.

Even with the ladies
who don't run very hard.

Just a routine question.

Sorry.

Yeah. So am I.

Yeah, we checked Duncan's alibi.

He had a lecture at : .

He got there about : .

Well, he could have k*lled
O'Neill at : ,

and still have had minutes
to get to the museum.

Not without running smack
into Matt Jones, he couldn't,

and Jones didn't even
claim that.

Anyway, for a man who can't run,

that would have been cutting it
pretty close.

Well, maybe he got in

through one of the sliding doors
earlier and hid somewhere.

And then, as soon as Matt left,
Duncan came out and k*lled him.

And he carries a cane, right?

That would have set the dog off
as he went out the back.

Well, it could have happened
that way.

Just why did he k*ll O'Neill?

Art, if I knew that,

I'd have had my client
out of jail by now.

Oh, you're pressing, Joe.
Yeah.

Anyway, we've got...

Oh.

Malcolm.

Oh, good.
All right, I'll be right there.

The show up's ready.

Show up?

Yeah, I was just about
to tell you.

We've got a new witness.

A man named Jenkins,
a neighbor of O'Neill's.

He saw someone leaving

at just about the time
of the m*rder-- a black man.

Well, Matt never denied
being there.

Yeah, but this one didn't leave
the way Jones said he left.

He snuck out...
through the side gate.

Uh, that's right,

and then this man
ducked out of the shrubbery,

looked around and ran off.

But you saw him clearly enough
to recognize him?

I'm pretty sure I did.

Why did you wait until now
to tell anybody about this?

I believe
in minding my own business.

What changed your mind?

Well, I just got to thinking.

A man's got to stand up
and be counted.

Mm-hmm. Would you take a look
in there, Mr. Jenkins?

Uh...

I don't recognize any of them.

Are you sure?

Positive.

The man I saw was
kind of heavier.

Well, thanks very much,
Mr. Jenkins.

Thank you.

Hey, Joe, what's going on?

I mean,
what are they doing to my boy?

Take it easy, Scrapiron.
We're still working on it.

That's the man!

He's the one!

That's the man I saw leaving
Professor O'Neill's house!

Are you sure?

Positive.

How many times do you want me
to say it?

I k*lled him.

You realize that anything
you say

can be used in evidence
against you?

You think
I want my son going to jail

for something I had done?

Why did you k*ll him, Scrapiron?

I knew about the meeting
with Professor O'Neill.

I followed Matt
to O'Neill's house.

I figured

if Matt couldn't talk him
around, maybe I could.

When I heard
what he said to my son,

I knew there was no chance,

except... k*lling him.

What did you use to k*ll him?

A stick I found in the garden.

What did you do with it?
I threw it away.

Where?
In the ocean.

Charley?

Take Mr. Jones downstairs
and book him.

I'm sorry, Joe.

He didn't do it, Art.

Come on, Joe.

He knew the layout of the room,
the position of the body.

Okay, maybe he was there
for the reason he said--

To see
that his kid got a fair deal--

But he didn't k*ll O'Neill.

How do you know?

He lived for that kid.

If he had done it,

he never would have let Matt
be arrested in the first place.

I'm sorry, Joe.

We've got a witness who saw him,
and he confessed.

There is nothing I can do.

Well, fortunately,
that doesn't stop me.

Professor, can we talk?

Sorry. I'm busy.

Mm.

A little early
for a vacation, isn't it?

Look, Mannix, do you mind
telling me what it is you want?

Now according to what I read,

Matt Jones' father confessed
to that k*lling.

Isn't that good enough?

He didn't convince me.
Mind if I come in?

Oh, just finishing breakfast,
huh?

Good guess.

Very hygienic-- eating off
of two separate plates.

All right,
now does the number of plates

on the table
make me a m*rder suspect?

No, no, no,
but neither does , people

at your lecture prove
your innocence.

Now, what's that
supposed to mean?

You forgot to mention
that you had a meeting at :

just before your lecture.

What made you miss that meeting?

I did.

Some college.
When I went to school,

I learned about the birds
and the bees in biology class.

Yeah, well, they do a little
more homework these days.

Now, according to Ruth O'Neill,

she was with Duncan from :

until the time
he left for the lecture.

Some lady.

Yeah.

Mrs. O'Neill.

This is my secretary,
Peggy Fair.

How do you do, Ms. O'Neill?

Uh, may I see you for a moment,
privately, Mr. Mannix?

Of course.

No calls, Peggy.

Please, sit down.

This morning,
in Jim's apartment,

I'm afraid a lot of things
were left unsaid.

And you're here to say them?

Mr. Mannix,
I haven't exactly been living

in a convent
these past few years.

But Jim Duncan is different.

I really care for him.

Oh, |-I know
what he thinks of himself,

his physical handicap.

But in the ways that count,

Jim Duncan is more of a man
than anyone I have ever known.

He is everything
my husband never was.

Yours, I take it,

was not one of
the great marriages of our time.

Alex and |

might as well have been living
on separate planets.

It got even worse
this last year.

Why?

Oh, he was working on a new way

of carbon-dating
ancient artifacts.

It devoured him, hours a day.

And so I...

tried to make a life of my own.

Jim Duncan wasn't

the first, was he?

No.

But since Jim,
there's been no one else.

What about Professor Pryor--
is that all over?

You've been doing your legwork,
haven't you?

Well, it's my infantry training.

I was involved with Ed Pryor
at one time,

but it's over.

It didn't last very long
in any case.

Did your husband know
about Pryor?

Well, I suppose he must have.

Why?

He suspected every man
who ever looked at me,

and sooner or later
he would find a way

to get back at the men
he believed I was seeing.

Get back how?

Well, in Jim Duncan's case,

he tried several times
to have him fired.

What about Professor Pryor--
did he try and pay him back?

I don't know.

Alex had to be careful there.

The department
wanted Ed Pryor on the staff

because of his reputation.

Well, I'll, uh, check it out.

There's just one more thing
I wanted to say.

Jim knows you suspect him.

This morning after you left,

he canceled his lecture tour.

He said he thought it might look
like he was running away.

Well, Duncan did cancel
his lecture tour.

You know,
he's being so cooperative,

it makes me nervous.

I guess he wants you
on his side.

Why should he?

Well, who else is there?

Professor Pryor had no reason
to k*ll O'Neill,

and my father's sitting in jail

while you and Duncan
and Mrs. O'Neill

are dancing around each other.

Look, Matt, we know
that Professor O'Neill went

after anyone
who even looked at his wife.

Maybe he was finally after Pryor
and they had a fight?

No, I checked.

Pryor was
with his lab assistant,

Anita Moss,
the night of the m*rder.

He wasn't out of her sight
all evening.

How do you know that?

Well, the bursar's office
was broken into.

They took some money that night,

and the police
questioned Anita about it.

Why her?

She works there part time.

She's the only employee
on campus with a key,

and the thieves got in
with a key.

But Pryor says that Anita
was with him all evening.

What's wrong, Joe?

Well, suppose Pryor
wasn't giving her an alibi?

Suppose she was giving him one?

Professor?

Mr. Mannix.

Matt, I'm terribly sorry
about your father.

Thanks.

He didn't do it, of course.

I know he didn't.

Professor, I understand
you were working here

with your assistant
on the night of the m*rder.

Yes, I was.

Her name is Anita Moss.

I hope you'll forgive me
if I keep working, Mr. Mannix.

We're a little behind.

The lab's been closed
since Alex's death.

What were you working on?

Why?

Am I under suspicion now?

Oh, just interested.

Anita and I were coating
Neanderthal bones

with a ketoret solution
to preserve them.

You have to heat that solution

with a Bunsen burner, don't you?

I've been reading up on it.

Of course,
we use Bunsen burners.

There doesn't seem

to be burner marks
on any of these flasks.

Mr. Mannix,

there are students
whose job it is

to clean the lab equipment.

Oh.

Yeah, well,
I clean the prof's lab.

It supports my one bad habit,

eating.

When was the last time you
cleaned Professor Pryor's lab?

Uh,

pizzas ago.

That makes two weeks.

You have pizza every night?

What's wrong with pizza?

Nothing, nothing.

Paul, are you positive

you haven't cleaned
the lab since then?

Yeah,

as sure as I'm gonna have
pizza tonight.

Anita, hi.

This is Joe Mannix.

Anita.

He's a private investigator.

He'd like to ask you
a few questions.

Not about the robbery again.

I understand you were working
with Professor Pryor

in his lab that night,
is that right?

Yes.

He said that you were coating
some Neanderthal bones

with preservative.

That's right.
Without heating the solution?

Of course we heated it.

On what?

No Bunsen burners
have been used in that lab

for at least two weeks.

You weren't really
with Professor Pryor

during the time of the robbery,
were you?

He was only trying to help me.

Why? Did you steal the money?

No, I didn't.

I swear,
I left the bursar's office early

because I had to run an errand
for Professor Pryor.

What time was that?

Uh, it was about : .

He sent me to this lab
to do some research.

Did anyone see you?

No, there was no one here
that night.

How late did you stay?

Well, I don't...

It was a lot of work.

Um, I didn't finish
until about : .

When did you next see
Professor Pryor?

Well, when I got back
to his office,

he was waiting for me.

He suggested that we call
it a night and go home.

But, just then,
the campus police came in.

That soon?

Yes, I suppose
that someone called them

and reported the robbery.

Which put you in a bad spot.

Professor Pryor saw
how upset I was,

and he was kind enough to say

that I had been
with him the whole time.

I don't know where I would be
without his help.

Thanks.

Ciao, Anita.

♪♪

You think she's going
to call Pryor?

Well, we threw a scare into her.

She probably wants him
to know about it.

You think that night
while she was in the lab,

Pryor took the key
from her purse,

and he ripped off
the bursar's office?

Yeah, then he reported
his own robbery.

And he knew she'd be
the suspect.

So by covering for her,

he had a perfect alibi
for himself.

But why would he k*ll O'Neill?

Good question.

Now that he knows
his alibi's sh*t,

he's going to have to come up
with something.

Good morning, Peg.

Well, good morning.

You're down early.

Yeah, I'm expecting someone.

Who?

Professor Pryor.

You don't have him down
for an appointment.

I know, but he'll be here.

Good morning.
Good morning.

May I help you?
I'd like to see Mr. Mannix.

May I have your name, please?

Pryor. Ed Pryor.

He's expecting you, Professor.

Professor Pryor.

Professor.

All right, what are you after?

Well, I've got a friend in jail.

I'd like to see him back
on the street.

What are you after?

Anita, my assistant,

said you
interviewed her yesterday.

Or should I say browbeat?

Well, let's split
the difference.

I had a talk with her.

And she confessed
that I lied to the police.

That's right.

But I did it for her.

Isn't that obvious?

A little white lie
to protect an innocent girl.

That's very generous of you.

You'd do the same for
your secretary, wouldn't you?

I cover for her all the time.

What can I do
to get you off my back?

Help me find the man
who k*lled Professor O'Neill.

What's wrong with the man
who confessed?

He didn't convince me.

Why did you give up so quickly
on Jim Duncan?

He's got an alibi.

What kind?

Ruth O'Neill.

Huh.

Of course,
it never entered your mind

that the two of them
might be in it together?

I've thought about it.

Well, maybe you ought to think
about it some more.

Mr. Mannix's office.

Yes, Art, just a second.

Art Malcolm.

Yeah, Art, what's up?

When did you get the call?

Yeah, I'll be right over.

Well, it happened sometime
last night.

His prints are all over the g*n.

And he left a note.

"I k*lled O'Neill for reasons
which are no longer relevant.

"I did not really mean
to k*ll him,

but I lost control
and hit him with my cane.”

I guess that wraps it up.

Yeah.

Whoever wrote this note is
probably the k*ller, all right.

"Whoever"?

What's that supposed to mean?

Well, you forget,
Duncan did have an alibi.

Had. He doesn't anymore.

Meaning what?

His alibi walked
into the office last night,

suffering from a fit of remorse.

Or she was afraid
of being an accessory.

Ruth O'Neill?

The lady came to tell us
she wasn't with Duncan

the night her husband
was k*lled.

She was at the movies.

You, uh, mind if I look around?

Why, is something
still bothering you?

Yeah, something.

Help yourself.

♪♪

♪♪

Garamycin.

Duncan had undulant fever.

He picked it up in Vietnam.

Take a look at the date.

Yesterday.

Exactly, he bought
it yesterday. So?

Art a three-month supply
for a man about to k*ll himself?

Joe, people do k*ll themselves
on a sudden impulse.

Yeah,

and people have been known
to k*ll other people

and try and make it look
like su1c1de.

She's in there, all right.

Ah, I'm Bill Jenkins.

Remember me?

The, uh, police lineup.

Oh, yeah, yeah.

How do you know she's in there?

The housekeeper
left yesterday afternoon.

Mrs. O'Neill
hasn't been outside since.

Her car is in the garage.

She hasn't even fed the dog.

Do you keep this close a watch
on all your neighbors?

A house where there's been
a m*rder,

police, reporters, detectives?

Wouldn't you be curious?

Yeah, I guess I would.

Oh, I've been trying
to give this back to her.

Must have been the professor's.

I found it in the shrubbery
in my garden this morning.

Yeah, thanks.

Mrs. O'Neill?

I was worried
when you didn't answer the door.

Are you all right?

Top of the world.

I just don't feel like company.

I'm not company.

No.

You can just turn around
and march right back

the way you came in.

You told the police you lied
about being with Jim Duncan

the night your husband
was m*rder*d. Why?

'Cause confession is good
for the soul.

So how come
I don't feel so good?

You told me Duncan was
the great love of your life.

What suddenly changed your mind?

Uh,

like all of them,
he turned sour.

He just wasn't the man
I thought he was, all right?

He's dead.

Jim?

Dead?

Oh, you thought
you could trick me

into saying something that
you just wanted to hear, right?

No.

I'm sorry, but it's true.
He's dead.

The police think it was su1c1de.

I don't.

And you...

you think I had something
to do with it.

Did you?

Uh, we-we talked about marriage.

"Let's just keep things going
the way they are,” he said.

"Taking love and...

"turning it into a contract

"would end...

what we felt for one another.”

That's what he said.

No, Mr. Mannix,

I didn't k*ll Jim Duncan.

I just gave him up.

There was a note left
in his typewriter,

a note confessing to the m*rder
of your husband.

If...

Doesn't matter now what...

the police think of Jim.

But...

I believed he didn't do it

or else I never
would have lied for him.

Did, uh, this belong
to your husband?

No.

Do you know
who it did belong to?

Jim Duncan.

It was his favorite.

He, uh,

he left it somewhere.

He'd been looking for it
all week.

Is this what k*lled Alex?

I think so.

Jim didn't do it.

I agree.

Uh,

I think you'd better
answer that, Mrs. O'Neill.

It might be very important.

Ruth.

You all right?

You're not ill?

Mn?

Mr. Mannix.

All right, what's this about?

You called me and said
that Ruth was ill, needed help.

Well, help, anyway.

What kind of help?

Finding out
who k*lled her husband.

Might put her mind at ease.

Jim Duncan committed su1c1de.

He left a confession.

Isn't that enough?

I'm a hard man to convince.

If Jim Duncan didn't do it,
who did?

You did, Professor.

What?

But why?

I'll get to that, Mrs. O'Neill.

You knew, of course, the dog's
terror when it came to sticks.

So, you deliberately
provoked him

with Jim Duncan's cane,

which you probably stole
from him,

and then you threw it away.

Do you mean to suggest

that I not only k*lled
my colleague,

but tried to frame someone else?

Unfortunately, the cane ended up
in the neighbor's bush,

where no one found it
till today.

But then you did get a break.

They arrested Matt Jones.

Ruth asked a question,
Mr. Mannix--

What motive would I have had?

Ed, you didn't do it
because of me?

You were a pleasant diversion
for a month.

No more.

No, Mr. Mannix,
there was simply no motive.

What about the Afghanistan Head?

What about it?

Overnight, you were
an international celebrity.

What if the head turned out
to be a fake?

Fake? No expert
has ever questioned it.

No, but Professor O'Neill
was working on a new way

to determine the age
of prehistoric finds.

A method which had never
been put to the test.

But might be on your discovery.

Professor O'Neill
was working night and day

because he knew about you
and Mrs. O'Neill.

What better way to pay you back?

Well, he would've been
sadly disappointed.

Would he?
Yes.

We'll find that out
when the museum tests it.

When I blew up your first alibi,

you k*lled Duncan

and tried to frame him
a second time.

Being a private investigator,
Mr. Mannix,

I assume you carry a g*n.

Take it out carefully

and throw it on the couch.

Won't do you any good, Pryor.

You won't get away with it.

Get away with what?

You phoned me and said
that Ruth was in trouble.

I got here and heard a sh*t.

I rushed in.

I found Ruth

standing over your body.

When I tried to get
the g*n away from her,

it went off and k*lled her, too.

It's your g*n, Ruth.

I bought it for you, remember,

to protect you against burglars.

You never cared for me.

You just used me.

All of you, Jim, too,

used me.

And now you're gonna
use me again!

You hurt bad?

I've been hurt before.

I've always gotten over it.