03x22 - The Private Eye

[bunniefuu]

-Hey mom, have you

seen Mr. Wilson around?

-No dear, I haven't.

-Hey dad.

Have you seen Mr. Wilson?

-No, I haven't.

-That's funny.

Me and Mr. Wilson were

playing Hide and Seek

and it was my turn

to look for him,

but I can't find him anywhere.

[theme music]

-You see?

It's a genuine official outfit.

Just like the real

detective use on television.

-Oh, I can see that.

It looks very official.

-Wait'll you see all the

swell disguises I got with it.

Don't look now.

Now turn around.

-OK.

-Don't peek now.

-Oh, I won't.

-Oh, so, you speak

Chinese, lady?

-Oh, that's a

wonderful disguise.

-I hear dad coming.

I bet he'll sure be fooled.

-Breakfast ready, honey?

I'm so hungry, I

could eat a-- Why,

I didn't know we had

a Chinese visitor.

Private eye detective.

-Oh, so, me Charlie Chan.

Number one son.

-This is an honor, Mr. Chan.

Honey, we can't give him the

same breakfast that we eat.

Chinese detectives are used

to bird's nest soup and stuff

like that.

-Oh no, not so.

We eat all the same way you eat.

-Not at all, Mr. Chan.

I'll just go out in the backyard

and find an old bird's nest,

and we'll make you some.

-Oh no you don't.

Look, dad.

It's me, Dennis.

See?

-Boy, you had me worried

there for a while.

-I got a whole case full

of disguises, and a book

that tells how to be a

private eye and everything.

-That sounds great.

-I'm gonna meet

Tommy after breakfast

and we're gonna practice up.

So if you got any crimes

or mysteries or anything,

I'll solve them for you!

-Now that you mention

it, I have a mystery.

It happened right

here yesterday.

-You have?

[clears throat] Well now.

Let's have the facts.

Just the facts, ma'am.

-The facts are that somebody

cleaned out my cookie jar.

-Jeepers, mom.

There were only

four cookie left,

and me and Tommy,

well, I mean-- Boy,

I hope every crime

I get today is

as easy to solve as that one.

-Oh.

Ugh.

It's a crime, that's what it is.

A rotten crime.

-Oh dear.

What's wrong, George?

-For weeks, I've been

planning to prune

my climbing rose

bushes today, and do

you know what that

confounded Fred Adams did?

-Fred Adams?

Is he that big,

bald headed man that

owns the apartment

on Chestnut Street?

-That's the one.

Do you know what he did?

He didn't return the

pruning shears I loaned him.

That's what he did.

And he did exactly the same

thing with my lawn mower,

and I am fed up.

-Oh now dear, take it easy.

-I don't want to

take it easy, Martha.

I am mad.

Why, I ought to go over and

punch Fred Adams in the nose.

-Uh oh.

-And I would too, if

he weren't so big.

-That's clear thinking.

Now why don't you

just sit down a while?

-Oh I-- I will sit down, Martha.

By golly I will.

And I'll write that Fred

Adams a letter that'll

tear his alligator hide off.

-George, I wish you wouldn't.

-Dear Baldy.

-Baldy?

Oh don't call him that, George.

It isn't nice to comment

on his physical appearance.

-Martha, I'm not

trying to be nice.

Now, Adams hates to be called

baldy worse than anything.

So, dear Baldy.

Of all the sizzling rats--

-Wait'll you see this, Tommy.

This tells how to find

clue, and track down

crooks, and everything.

-Boy, you sure got a lot

of swell disguises here.

-That's so if I'm

following a crook

and he looks back and

sees me, I can quick

put on a different

disguise and he'll

think it's not me anymore.

See?

-Hey.

Here comes Mr. Wilson.

Let's see if you can

fool him, Dennis.

-Yeah.

Let's hide in the bushes.

Then we can practice

following him.

-There.

Now at least Adams will

know how I feel about him.

Hmph!

Now boys.

If you're following

me, just stop.

I'm in no mood.

-We're not boys mister.

We're real detectives

-Oh brother.

-It's me, Mr. Wilson.

See?

-Now, look Dennis.

Just don't bother me.

I'm annoyed, and angry, and I

just don't feel like talking.

-OK.

-Can't trust anybody these days.

Man just takes your best pruning

shears and doesn't return them.

It's a crime.

That's what it is.

-Hear that, Dennis?

He's got a crime!

-Yeah, we'll solve it for him.

Mr. Wilson!

Where did this crime take place?

-Take place?

Oh, well the shears

were in my garage

and-- Oh, what am

I telling you for?

Now, run along both of

you and leave me alone.

-The first thing a

private eye has to do,

Tommy, is examine the

scene of the crime.

Come on.

-Boys.

Come back here.

Oh.

Boys, didn't you hear me?

Now will you please go

someplace else and play?

-We're not playing, Mr. Wilson.

We're looking for

clues to your crime.

-To my crime?

-The case of the stolen shears.

-Oh, for-- Who said

they were stolen, Tommy?

-You did.

-Hey Mr. Wilson!

This looks like

a clue all right.

It's a note tied to some shears.

-Why, i-it's i-- it's them!

These are my pruning shears.

Where did you find these?

-They were right on your shelf.

For heavens sakes.

Says, dear Wilson.

You were at church

so I left them here.

Thanks a lot, Adams.

Why, great Scott, they must

have been here since Sunday.

-What made you think the

man didn't bring them back,

Mr. Wilson?

-Well, I didn't see

him return them,

so I naturally assumed--

Oh good heavens.

The letter.

Oh.

I've got to get it back.

If Adams reads it now, he'll--

Oh, I hope it's still there.

Oh, thank heaven.

It's still there.

-Is that your

letter, Mr. Wilson?

I'll get it out for you.

-Oh, no Dennis,

don't you touch it.

No.

Move back now.

If you push that one corner

of it back down inside,

I'll never get it out.

Ah, let's see.

If I can just reach out.

Darn it, I can't

quite get hold of it.

Oh.

Maybe if I slip this hand down

inside, push it out a little,

I could-- Oh, confound it.

My wrist watch is

caught in there.

Both hands.

I can't get them out.

I'm stuck.

-Pull, Tommy!

Pull hard!

-I am pulling hard.

His wrists are too fat.

-Oh, stop yanking on me.

You'll break my wrist

watch or my arms.

Now listen, Dennis.

I want you to run home

just as fast as you can

and get your father.

-I'll get Mrs. Wilson too.

-No, no.

Don't you say a

word to Mrs. Wilson.

I don't want her to know

about this, understand?

-She might think it's

stupid or something, huh?

-Yeah.

No.

Uh, just go get

your father, Dennis.

And hurry.

-OK.

Come on, Tommy.

-Oh, Dennis.

Hurry!

-Hello.

You in some kind of

trouble there, friend?

-Oh, some kind of trouble?

I'm in all kinds of trouble.

You see, I'm trying

to get a letter back

that I mailed by mistake.

I got both hands caught in here.

-That is a bit

awkward now, isn't it?

Uh, you're sure you

can't get loose?

-Well, if I could get loose,

I wouldn't be standing here,

would I?

-Well, this is an

interesting situation.

I, uh, suppose you

carry your wallet

in your left hip pocket

like most people, friend.

-No, I don't, and I don't see

what business that is of yours.

Hey, what-- What are you doing?

-I'm picking your

pocket, friend.

-What?

-Oh, this is a nice, fat one.

-Wha-- Of all-- You

give that back to me.

You give me my wallet back.

-$ , $ .

Well, isn't that nice.

-Why you-- you crook!

You give me my money.

Help!

Police!

Police!

-Shh.

Police?

Well, now, you don't

want a policeman

coming here and finding you

standing up to your elbows

in a federal mailbox, do you?

-Well, I can explain.

I'm not doing anything wrong.

-They'd never

believe you, friend.

Very suspicious

follows, those cops.

This is a handsome woman.

Your wife?

-Yes, yes.

Oh, I wish Dennis

would hurry up.

-Charming.

Charming.

I hope you realize what

a lucky man you are.

-Oh, I do indeed.

This is the luckiest

day of my life.

-I, uh, think your friends

are coming back, friend.

I'd better toddle along now.

Thank you.

Cheerio.

-Dag ol', Mitchell!

Come on!

-Mr. Wilson, I'm sorry

if we kept you waiting.

-Dad didn't believe

us, did you, Dad?

He thought we were joking.

-Well, it's no joking

matter, Mitchell.

I've been robbed.

-Robbed?

-A dirty little shrimp of a

pickpocket wearing a funny hat

took my wallet,

and-- oh, Mitchell,

get me loose from here.

-Oh, I'll just put some oil

on your hands and your wrist,

and you can slide it out easily.

-Wow, this is really somethin'.

A pickpocket.

-Yeah.

A real crook.

-Well, that ought to do it.

Now, try pulling them out easy.

-All right.

-Easy.

Oh, I, I think-- oh, it hurts.

Think it's coming out.

-Good.

-Oh, look at me,

covered with oil.

-Here, Mr. Wilson.

-And robbed of $ , and I can't

even go to the police about it.

They'd never understand why I

had my hands in the mailbox.

-They don't pick up the

mail for another hour.

You can come back and

wait for the truck then.

-Oh, thank you, Mitchell.

-Poor good old Mr. Wilson.

It's a good thing he's got us to

solve this pickpocket for him.

-What do we do first, Dennis?

-Well, it says right here that

a private eye should always

work with the police.

We're going down

to see Sgt. Mooney

and report this crime right now.

-Guess it's time to

hit the b*at, Sarge.

Any instructions?

-Yeah.

Bring in a g*ng of bank robbers,

and we'll split the reward.

-In this town,

I'm lucky if I can

find a dog without a license.

-Oh, stick with it, kid.

You've only been on

the force a month.

You'll make an arrest yet.

-I sure hope so, Sarge.

-Is Sgt. Mooney here?

I want to report a crime!

-Mooney's on vacation, son.

You're a little

mixed up, aren't you?

Halloween's in October.

-I'm not playing Halloween!

I'm a private eye!

You wanna see?

-We're working on a case.

-And my handbook says I

gotta work with the police.

-It's about a pickpocket who

picked Mr. Wilson's pocket.

-Near the corner

of th and Elm.

-What did you say

this fella's name is?

-Mr. George Wilson.

I live next door to him.

-And you're sure he got robbed?

-Sure I'm sure.

Mr. Wilson told me

all about it himself.

This pickpocket took his

wallet with $ in it.

-I'd better get a description.

Can you tell us what

he looks like, son?

-Sure, if you want me to.

-Yeah.

-Well, he's about

as tall as you are.

-Jeepers, I wonder

why those policemen

wanted me to

describe Mr. Wilson?

-Gee, I don't know.

-Well, anyway, we did

what the book said to do.

Come on.

Let's go eat our lunch.

Another crime might

break any minute.

-Hey, you, hold it!

-Oh, hello, officer.

I wasn't doing anything.

I was just waiting

for the mailman.

-Uh-huh.

Going to rob the mail now, huh?

Picking pockets isn't enough?

-Picking-- me?

-That's right, buster.

You answered the

description of a crook who's

been operating in the same area.

Picked the pocket of a

fella named George Wilson.

-Oh, you've got it

all wrong, officer.

It was my pocket

that was picked.

I'm George Wilson.

-Got any identification?

-Well, of course I have.

It's right here in my wallet.

Oh, no, he took my wallet.

-You'd better come

along to the station.

-Oh, but it's all a mistake.

I'm innocent.

-Oh, don't even say that, mac.

You're the first

arrest I've ever made.

You've just got to be guilty!

-Oh, no answer.

My wife must be out shopping.

-You still claim

you're Wilson, huh?

-I've told you

times I'm Wilson.

You have no right

to hold me here.

-And we've told you

times that you

match the description

we've got of a pickpocket.

-Fat cheeks, squinchy

eyes, round glasses.

-Just like the kid said.

-I don't know how this

ridiculous error-- kid?

What kid?

-Smart little feller in overall.

He was playing private eye.

-Great Scott, Dennis Mitchell.

I'll call his parents and

have them bring him down

here and identify me right now.

-We're just terribly sorry about

this whole thing, Mr. Wilson.

-Yes, I know how embarrassing

it must have been for you.

-Well, the worst of it is the

mail will be picked up by now,

and that letter will be

on its way to Fred Adams.

Oh, I've just got to

get it back some way.

-Does Mr. Adams have the same

mailman that we do, Mr. Wilson?

Mr. Jenkins is a swell mailman.

-Why yes, Dennis, of course.

That's it.

Why, Jenkins will give

me the letter back.

You can drop me off

at Adams' apartment.

I'll wait there for

the mailman to come.

-Well, good.

I'll go get the car

out of the parking lot.

-I still don't

understand, Dennis.

Why in the world

did you describe

Mr. Wilson to the police?

-Honest, Mom.

I thought that's what

they wanted me to do.

-It sure sounded like it.

-Besides, we couldn't

describe the crook.

We didn't even see him.

-Well, they've got a good

description of him now.

I took care of that.

-You say he was wearing a

funny little hat, Mr. Wilson?

-Dennis, never mind.

-Heck, Mom.

I bet I could find him

before the police do.

It tells exactly how, right

here in my detective handbook.

-I think you'd better stick

to your comic books, dear.

-Now, listen.

It says to find out where

a criminal has gone,

the private eye must put

itself in the criminal's place.

-What does that mean?

-That means to figure out where

I'd go if I was a pickpocket

and had $ to spend.

-Oh, and where would you go?

-To Pete's Ice Cream Parlor,

and buy all the ice cream sodas

I could hold.

-That's where he is, I bet.

-Oh, yes.

A pickpocket Lapping

up ice cream sodas.

That's the silliest

thing I ever heard of.

-Bartender.

Hit me again.

-Oh, another one?

Man, that's your third.

You really swing.

-Can't kick the habit.

Ice cream is like a

monkey on my back.

-Look, Tommy.

I was right.

There he is with that

funny looking hat on,

just like Mr. Wilson said.

-Wowie!

You sure are a swell

private eye, Dennis.

What do we do now?

Shouldn't we go and arrest

him, and put him in jail?

-I haven't got a jail, Tommy.

And Mom wouldn't like it if I

put him in the spare bedroom.

-Hey!

Here comes somebody

who's got a jail.

H!

Boy, am I glad to see you.

-Well, it's the

young private peeper.

What can I do for you, Sherlock?

-The pickpocket.

He's right inside there.

-And we want you to

go in and arrest him.

-One for the road, Pete.

Chocolate.

Chocolate.

Straight.

-I didn't do it, I wasn't there,

and you can't prove nothing.

-Boy, he sure answers fast.

-Know anything about a wallet

lifted from a George Wilson?

-Never heard of him.

-May I see your wallet, please?

-My wallet?

-Your wallet.

-My wallet.

-Well, how come this

driver's license

is made up to a George Wilson?

-Oh, George Wilson.

I thought you said

George Rackameyer.

I am George Wilson.

-Oh, yeah?

Well, according to this

license, you weigh lbs.

-I did when I got the

license, but I've been sick.

-And it says you're

feet, inches tall.

-I've been real sick.

-You're going to be even sicker.

I'm going to phone

your friend Wilson.

We need positive identification.

-Oh, Mr. Wilson isn't home now.

-He's at Mr. Adams' apartment.

-It's right over here

on Chestnut Street.

Do you want me to

show you where it is?

-Yeah, fine.

You lead the way, Sherlock.

-Hey!

What about your soda?

-Oh, I'll take it with me.

Keep the change.

-Oh!

He's already been here.

-Hey Mr. Wilson.

-Oh, Dennis.

Don't bother me now,

and stop following me.

-But look what we got.

-Huh?

That's the pick pocket.

That's the man who robbed

me, took my wal-- Oh.

Thank you officer,

for doing a fine job.

-Just a minute.

What were you doing

with that mailbox?

-The mail box?

Oh, uh, Well, I-- A--

I was cleaning it.

Scraping off some dust.

-Looked more like you were

trying to break into it.

-You ought to let me

go and take him in.

-I bet I know what

he's trying to do.

He's trying to get his

letter to Mr. Adams back.

-He's scared Mr. Adams might

get mad if he reads it.

-Oh, all right, boys.

You see, Officer.

I accidentally mailed

a letter to Adams.

He's a friend of mine, but a

quick tempered sort of fellow.

-OK, OK, Mr. Wilson.

I get the picture,

but you'd better

quit messing around

with the federal mail.

-Very well, Officer.

And I want to thank

you for apprehending

this dangerous criminal.

-You can thank young Sherlock

Holmes here for that.

Oh, here's your wallet.

-Oh.

-We'll let you know when

he comes up for trial.

Let's go you.

-Oh, you're a slick one.

Why didn't you tell me this

morning you were a crook.

I'd have shown you

professional courtesy.

-Come on.

-Well.

Oh.

Well, now you boys do

realize, don't you,

that I am not breaking the law.

I'm simply trying to

get my letter back.

-I don't blame you, Mr. Wilson.

Mr. Adams is so big, I'd

be scared of him too.

-Yeah, just as

scared as you are.

-So scared, my hand would

shake like yours are doing.

And my knees would shake.

-Oh, all right, boys.

Never mind the details.

Get back.

-Hey, hey.

What's going on here?

-Oh, hello, Fred

Long time no see.

-What are you up to, Wilson?

-He's trying to get back a

letter he wrote you, Mr. Adams.

-He's scared that you might--

-Oh, all right boys.

I'll tell him.

You see, Fred, I did the

silliest, stupidest thing.

I-- I wrote you an invitation

to dinner, you and your wife,

and I forgot to say

which night it was.

I-- well, I knew

you'd be confused,

so I came here before

the letter reached you.

You do understand,

don't you, Fred.

-Well, if it was anybody

else, I wouldn't, but I

guess you're goofy enough.

-Thank you, Fred.

Thank you.

Now, the invitation is

for Wednesday evening.

Now, you just give me the

letter and I'll destroy,

and everything will be just--

-Now just a minute.

There's something

fishy about this.

Dear Baldy.

Of all the chiseling rats I

ever met, you're the worst.

You intended to steal

my pruning shears.

What do you mean, steal them?

I brought those shears

back last summer.

-I know you did, Fred.

And I give up.

I made a stupid mistake.

-I'll say you did.

-Well, go ahead.

-Go ahead?

-Yes.

Oh.

Go ahead and punch

me in the nose.

I deserve it.

[stammering]

-Punch you--

[stammering]

-Oh, but-- Don't

look so pitiful.

I'm not gonna hit you.

-Oh, you-- you're not?

-No, not-- not after

that laugh you gave me.

And besides, who-- who's

gonna belt a clown like you?

Take him home, boys.

-Oh, well thank you, Fred.

Thank you very much.

And I really mean that

dinner invitation.

We'll expect you and your

wife next Wednesday evening.

And bless you for

sparing my nose.

-Jeepers, Mr. Wilson.

You walked right into the door.

-Great Scott.

[theme music]

NARRATOR: This has been a

Screen Gems film production

from the Hollywood studios

of Columbia Pictures.