03x12 - Last of the Dinosaurs

[bunniefuu]

Maybe you're
looking for two people.

The one who hit him over the
head and the one who poisoned him,

You're letting Will Presstin's film
image color your judgment on this case.

If he was having an
affair with a starlet,

I was always the
first one to know.

How could a woman like
you accept those terms?

Being loved by Will
Presstin was worth anything.

Is that what Presstin turned
you into, Granger? A gopher?

You might find out things about
your idol you don't want to know.

What are we looking for?

Maybe the best kept
secret in Hollywood.

Gentlemen, you
are about to enter

the most fascinating
sphere of police work,

the world of forensic medicine.

You're in my way, will you?

Quincy!

Quincy, Quincy.

I already got a refill, thanks.

Do you mind if I
turn it down to a roar?

Why would you
want to turn it down?

Well, for the preservation of my sanity,
my customers' business, remember?

Here's the best part. He
scares every outlaw in the joint.

You sound like you've
seen this epic before.

Oh, about four times.
Not counting this time.

Now, how could an intelligent human being,
a doctor yet, watch any movie four times?

I'm not watching the movie, I'm
watching Will Presstin. I'm a fan.

Quincy, you're kidding.

He's my idol.

He's been my idol
ever since I was a kid

and I saw him capture
San Juan Hill all by himself.

Yeah? Was that before he won
World w*r II with his bare knuckles?

Clark Gable, Tracy,
Cooper, they're all gone now.

He's the last of the
great movie heroes.

Quincy, telephone.

Well, tell them I'm not
here, this is the best part.

Answer the phone, will you?
You sound like a six-year-old.

- Yeah?
- Yeah, Quincy.

Monahan, can't you leave
me alone for a couple of hours?

Look, I'm sorry to bother you.

We just got a report that
Will Presstin was found dead.

Who?

Will Presstin, the movie star.

I'll be right there.

Hello.

Mrs. Presstin, will you hold on a
minute? I'll put Lieutenant Monahan on.

Lieutenant.

Who is it?

It's his wife.

Hello, Mrs. Presstin.
Lieutenant Monahan here.

Yeah, we've been
trying to find you.

I just heard it
on the car radio.

Yeah, I'm sorry you had to hear it
that way, ma'am. Where are you now?

Oh, I don't know.

Right outside Needles, I think.

It shouldn't take me more
than four hours to drive back.

Oh, well, Mrs. Presstin, we could have
a police plane pick you up at Needles.

No, no, no. Please. I'm afraid
I have a thing about flying.

I'll be back there
as soon as I can.

Well, what've we got?

I got two bruises on the right
temple. One on top of the other.

I've covered all
the angles, Doc.

Develop them as fast
as you can, will you?

Right.

Okay, he surprises the burglar,
the thief hits him on the head.

His head hits the floor. That would
account for both wounds, wouldn't it?

Or maybe he hit the floor first,

then when he got up
he got the heavier blow.

It's going to be tough to
tell which one came first.

Well, what's the difference? It probably
was the hardest blow that k*lled him.

Well, neither one seems big
enough to have k*lled Will Presstin.

Look, Quincy, fact
number one, he's dead.

And fact number two,
those are his only wounds.

And fact number three is he has
absolutely no defense wounds.

No knuckle abrasions, no
bruises on his arms, his face.

Proving?

Will Presstin
would've put up a fight.

Now, there was no fight here.

Whoever wrecked this room
wanted us to think there was a fight.

If he was hit from the front,
and he didn't defend himself,

it had to be a friend.
Someone he knew.

All I'm saying is
there was no fight.

And all I'm saying is I may have
that very friend in the next room.

I told you what happened.

Yeah, I know. You said you
showed up here around 11:00,

found the body and
called the police.

That's right. Where
were you before 11:00?

At the studio.

I was packing Will's wardrobe,

shipping it to a
location in Wyoming.

They're going to
finish the film up there.

When was the last time
you saw Presstin alive?

Here, this afternoon, after the
company wrapped for the day.

And he told me to
meet him here at 11:00,

drive him to the airport at midnight.
Midnight special to Jackson Hole.

Sybil had left earlier. She
drove up, she doesn't fly.

I'm not so sure your
story does either.

You listen a damn
minute, mister,

Will Presstin and I have
been together 30 years.

Ever since I got busted
up doing a stunt for him.

So someone came in here.

And I'm telling you
nobody broke in here.

I got solid evidence
that, that fight was faked.

Whoever k*lled Will Presstin,

it was someone he knew.

Somebody he knew?

That's right.

I got to think about that.

It's just that it could
be a lot of people.

I mean, a man in his
position makes enemies.

For instance?

Well, jealousy. He's a big
star. A big star means power.

He'd get people fired, didn't
even have to be his fault.

Hairdressers, producers,
actors, a lot of people.

That doesn't tell me anything,
does it? Name names.

Well, they're not in
the picture business,

but there are two strung out
kids who could've k*lled him.

Go on.

Well, Will was a
hell of a nice guy.

He had this habit. He'd help
people who were down and out.

He'd give them money, he'd give
them food, he'd give them clothes,

maybe old clothes
but he'd give them.

And then they got to
be dependent on him,

thought they couldn't
live without him.

And that's When Will
collected his markers.

He turned those two kids into

house boys, gophers.

Is that what Presstin
turned you into, Granger?

A gopher?

Yeah.

Sam, it just wasn't enough.

There's heavy swelling, but
not enough to k*ll this man.

What about his heart? It could
have triggered an occlusion.

Negative, no heart att*ck.

Got the brain tissue slide?

Just about ready.

No indication of a
stroke or a heart att*ck.

No, it's not obvious.

Let's do a complete microscopic
study of the heart tissue,

just to make sure, okay? Right.

Yeah? Hey, Monahan, what
are you doing working so late?

I'm trying to think up a
snappy answer to your jokes.

You got anything for me?

Well, we don't think the blow
to the head was enough to do it,

not by itself, anyway.

We're looking for post or
prior contributory causes.

How about alcohol?

I got a cabbie sitting here,
says he drove Presstin home.

Says he was stinking drunk.

Says he was staggering
up the steps to the house,

Is that so?

Well, we've already
completed the tax screens.

Sam' M“ you get these
tax screens for me'?

Sam will give me the results
and I'll call you back, okay?

Okay. Bye-bye.

Sam?

Negative. No
ordinary barbiturates.

How about alcohol?

I'll get the results.

Monahan has a witness
who saw him staggering drunk.

Now that could be the answer,
because if he was drunk,

then that blow
might've k*lled him.

You better look for
another contributory cause.

It measures less
than .05 of alcohol.

Oh, square one. We're back.

You know, it's hard enough to
finish any picture on schedule.

When your star
gets himself k*lled,

you have to sh**t around his
double the last couple of weeks.

It's just chaotic.

But that, to coin a
cliché, is show business.

Still trying to reconstruct Will
Presstin's movements last night.

Oh, yes, yes.

You say you stopped
filming last night around 9:00?



We would've been in
overtime at one second past.

We're already so far
over budget on this picture,

the front office is threatening
to replace me with a TV director.

That was the last time you saw
Will Presstin on the lot, 9:00?

No, we went to
Cappie's for a drink.

How many drinks
did he have? One.

Just one? Well, he was a
little upset by the fight and...

Fight? Listen, now what fight?

Well, it wasn't that
much of a fight really.

One of the actors, Clint Adams,

threw a punch at Will
and threatened to k*ll him.

So, I broke it up
and sent Clint home.

And two hours later
Will Presstin was dead.

Okay, so Clint didn't
go straight home.

See, you should
be talking to him.

Is he in this epic with you?

Yes, but he's not
sh**ting today.

Well, wait a minute, can you tell
me what beef he had with Presstin?

Her.

She's Clint Adams' wife,
in a manner of speaking.

You mean she and Presstin...

Indeed, I mean,
she and Presstin.

She was spending more time in his
dressing room than she was in her own.

You won't arrest Clint until after
I finish sh**ting his scenes, now.

I lose one more
player in this cast,

and I end up in the morgue
with old Will. And that's a promise.

All right, people!

Oh, Sam, you ought to see these
scars on his inner thigh and his groin.

Oh, why don't we go home?

Hero or no hero, Will Presstin's
gonna be dead a long time.

You go, Sam.

Good night. Sam.

Yeah?

Did you ever see West of Texas?

Was that the one in which Presstin
dug the Panama Canal by himself?

You're very funny
with the jokes.

No, he turned a longhorn
stampede around in that one.

You know, I thought it was trick
photography when that steer gored him.

But I'll bet that's when
he got those scars.

You think he did his own stunts?

Well, I used to
believe it was publicity.

But that body has made
a believer out of me.

And an insomniac. But
not me, I'm going home.

Good night, Quince.

Good night, Sam.

Good night?

You putting in a
half a day, Sam?

I got pull with the boss.

Well, did you finish my report?

I don't even know
what k*lled him.

What've you been doing?

Well, the blow to the head was not
enough to cause respiratory failure.

And no matter what
your cabbie says,

Presstin didn't have
more than one drink in him.

I'm still looking for
a contributory cause.

Next you'll be telling me he may
have d*ed of natural causes, huh?

That's possible. Quincy,
don't do this to me, you hear?

I got the whole
press on my back.

TV reporters, the whole
motion picture industry.

The commissioner
called me twice.

I've got enough suspects
for three m*rder cases.

It's also possible that the
blow was done post-mortem.

Oh, sure. Presstin drops dead

and then some nut comes
in and hits him for no reason.

Now come on.

Well, something
strange is going on,

otherwise Presstin would've
fought back like a wild tiger.

You know what I think?

You're letting Will Presstin's film
image color your judgment on this case.

And you know what I think? I
think you want me to say m*rder,

right or wrong say m*rder, then
you go around arresting people,

get your name in Daily
Variety, become a big man.

Quincy, you got your
job to do, I got mine.

But without a report, I
can't even get started.

We are doing
micros on his heart.

If he had a heart
condition that weakened

that could explain his
staggering from the cab.

Then the blow would be fatal.

Now you're in the ball park.

Maybe. I said the blow could
have been done post-mortem.

Suppose he fell down
the steps and he d*ed?

And suppose someone
came in afterwards and hit him

because they thought
he was still alive?

But of course, then you'd be
looking for a burglar, not a m*rder*r.

My life isn't
complicated enough.

And if he were poisoned...

Poisoned? Yeah, you
know, alkaloids, heavy metals.

I'm having special tax screens
done on his blood, gall bladder,

urine, everything, see.

If he was poisoned, that would
explain why he was staggering.

But then if he was poisoned,

it would be very doubtful that
the one who hit him poisoned him.

So maybe you're
looking for two people.

The one who hit him over the
head and the one who poisoned him.

But then we couldn't tell
which one actually k*lled him.

Get the picture?

I'm Sybil Presstin.

How do you do? I'm sorry to
bother you at a time like this.

Oh, that's quite all
right, Dr. Quincy.

You have a legitimate
reason for being here.

Something the matter?

Oh, no, no. It's just that you're
different from what I expected.

What did you expect?

Well, I read an "At Home with the
Presstins" interview in a fan magazine.

Now don't tell me you
read fan magazines?

Only when I go to the barber's.

And only when there's a
story about Will Presstin.

See, I'm a fan.

Welcome to the club.

Oh, I'm a chartered member.

I'm sorry, I'm
forgetting my manners.

I haven't even offered
you a cup of coffee.

No thanks. I drank a
quart at the lab today.

Well, then, a drink perhaps?

Nope. Not while I'm working.

Well, I assume you
want to know about Will?

Yes, I want to find out
exactly why he d*ed.

Now I don't think those blows to
the head were enough to k*ll him.

Unless something
weakened him first.

Such as?

I'm hoping to find a clue here.

Some kind of a poison,
maybe some kind of a pesticide.

Don't you have a greenhouse
where you raise orchids?

You do know a lot
about us, don't you?

Well, I get a lot of haircuts.

Yes, Will did raise
orchids out in back.

You know, one of the saddest
things about Will's death

is that it's the end of an era.

Millions of people would
agree with you on that.

There is one question,
but it's none of my business.

Oh, it's all right. I'll answer
anything you want to ask.

Okay.

Why didn't your husband and you
leave together yesterday for Wyoming?

Because Will didn't
have the time to drive,

and I don't have
the guts to fly.

Maybe if I had,

I would've been home last night.

And Will wouldn't be dead.

You can't blame
yourself for that.

Can't I?

Well, you're the first fan to see
Where Will raised his orchids.

This, I'm doing as
a scientist, not a fan.

I want to see what toxic
substances he used.

Herbicides, insecticides,
fungus sprays?

My goodness, you've got me.

What about this stuff?

He seems to have a bit of
everything. May I take these with me?

Oh, sure. Thank you.

I won't need them anymore.

But Will was probably very
careful when he used them.

Well, he may have
ingested it accidentally.

Even absorbed it
through the skin.

These might give me a clue.

Wouldn't he have been sick?

Oh, I think something
did make him in that night.

Did you know if he had
seen a doctor recently?

No.

Will never saw a doctor.

Except for his accidents.

It must be one of these.

Some poisons act slowly.

Now it could've gotten into
him earlier in the day or week.

Or it could be a bit by bit
accumulation over months.

Anybody else take
care of the plants?

Only Nick and Mel.

Those the boys Momma“
ink! me about? The addicts?

Ex-addicts.

Well, Monahan's a cop. He
doesn't think there's much distinction.

I sure wish I could talk to them.
Do you know where they are?

No. We expected to be
gone for several weeks.

They just took off
for San Francisco.

Well, do you remember, was
either of them sick recently?

No. How about yourself?

Me? Yeah.

Oh, no, I'm healthy as a horse.

I only look like this
from lack of sleep.

Hey, maybe you could
prescribe something.

I don't usually prescribe
for non-patients.

Well, I'll pay you.
And, well, I'm a patient.

Where's your pharmacy? I'll
prescribe something very mild.

Broxton's in Westwood.

I'll stop off there, tell them
to send you something.

Thank you.

Oh, why don't you call
me when you wake up?

Sure. But why?

Oh, tell me how you slept.

Clint Adams?

Yeah, what is it?

Police officer. I'd like to
ask you a few questions.

Well, now wait a minute, we're sh**ting
a scene here. Can't you do this later?

No.

All right, I'll sh**t an
insert. Let's have the...

I took a swing at
Presstin in Cappie's.

That doesn't mean I k*lled him.

License number on your
car 116 KKR. Is that right?

What about it?

A police patrol car reported
that at 10:30 that night

your car was outside
the Presstin home.

Now Will d*ed at 11:00. Would you
like to explain why you were there?

Maybe I went out
there to k*ll him.

When I saw the patrol
car, I chickened out.

I drove home.

Were you at home?

Not at the time.

Betty and I have been separated
for the past couple of weeks.

She came home later, after she
heard that Presstin was m*rder*d.

I guess she figured
any port in a storm.

Is this your g*n?

Could be.

We found it in the glove
compartment of your car.

I suggest you don't
leave town for a while.

Now wait a minute, I'm still
supposed to go on location.

And I'm supposed to
solve Will Presstin's death.

The tests from the heart tissue show
nothing causing a rhythm disturbance.

That's great. What about
the special tax screen?

Well, they're halfway through the
alkaloids and some of the metals.

There was just a little
lead in his system.

Lead? About the same
amount as most people in LA.

Find anything in
the mouth tissue?

Oh, only traces of lip makeup.

Lip makeup? Yeah.

You're not going to suggest
that your great hero...

Oh, cut it out, will you?

Some girl probably kissed
him. It's probably studio makeup.

He was filming all day.

Yeah.

What is this, a stickup?

Very funny. Look, Quincy, this
g*n belonged to Clint Adams.

Let me stop you before
you say Presstin wasn't sh*t.

Well, he could've been.

I remember a case where
the b*llet was made of ice.

Oh, come on, will you?
He's worse than you are.

Quincy, Adams could've
slugged Presstin with this.

Now, I want you to check this out
and see if it fits any of the wounds.

Well, did the crime lab
check it out for hair and blood?

Yeah, of course, nothing. But
he could've wiped it clean, right?

Take it, Sam.

Now if it does fit the wound,
it means I have a case

whether or not he
was poisoned first.

Speaking of poison, I
haven't found a trace in him.

I'm checking combinations
of herbicides and fungicides.

Quincy, I'd settle for
a homicide, will you?

While I'm waiting for you, I'm
piling up suspects like cord wood.

Well, it takes time, Monahan.

Oh, listen, by the way, I got another
little item you might be interested in.

I saw Presstin's will.

Guess who inherits a half
million dollar cattle ranch in Utah?

Granger. Right on the nose.

Quite a tip for an errand
boy, wouldn't you say?

Speaking of errand boys, did
you pick up those two kids yet?

No, no, not a trace of them.
But I'm looking harder than ever.

We found fingerprints on
that window that was forced.

Well, they helped
Presstin raise orchids.

Maybe they can tell me what
combinations of poisons they used.

Well, maybe one of them can
say that they hit him on the head.

No luck. I checked the barrel,
the butt, even the cylinder.

There's no indication this
g*n touched Presstin's head.

Look, Quincy, those
were the only wounds.

Now Adams could've hit
him with something else.

Granger could've hit him,
those kids could've hit him.

Sometimes I wish I was
back in the good old days.

Before you made detective?

No, before I ever heard
of forensic medicine.

Yeah? It's for you.

The way things are going today, it
must be something catastrophic at least.

Yeah, Monahan.

When? I'll be right there.

Guess what? You hit
the Irish Sweepstakes.

Almost. The San Francisco police
just picked up those two junkies.

You say Will Presstin
gave you this watch?

That's right.

Yeah? Mrs. Presstin, Lieutenant.

Oh, come in, ma'am.

Oh, isn't this insane?

Don't worry, we'll get it
straightened out right now.

What's the trouble, Lieutenant?

He thinks we stole Will's watch.

That check you
gave us before we left,

nobody would cash
it in San Francisco.

We were broke, so we
tried to hock the watch.

We weren't even selling it.
We just needed the money.

Will gave Nick a
wristwatch, Lieutenant.

This watch? That watch.

He gave a $5,000
watch to a flunky?

Do you mind telling me why?

Not at all. Will was a
very generous man.

Now, if that's all, Lieutenant, I
think the boys can come with me.

Mrs. Presstin, do you
recognize these clothes?

Your husband's name
is in all the labels.

We found them in
the trunk of their car.

Oh, those are old. Will
hasn't worn those in years.

I told you he gave them to us.

He gave them to us.

Is that all, Lieutenant?

Not quite, ma'am. Could
you sit down, please?

Mrs. Presstin? No, thank you.

Mrs. Presstin, these
two gentlemen here

claim they were halfway
up the coast to San

Francisco about the
time your husband d*ed.

From the time they left my house,
that's about where they should have been.

But you were out of town. You had
no way of knowing if they came back.

But I know these boys.

I know they're not liars
nor thieves nor murderers.

Brill, bring in Wilson.

I'm charging these two
men with unlawful entry.

And if anything else is missing,
I'm charging them with grand theft.

And when I get back to Quincy's
report, it might even be worse.

Oh, come in, Wilson.

Wilson, do you
recognize these two men?

Yes, sir.

From where?

The gas station where I work.

And how far is that from
Mrs. Presstin's house?

Oh, half a mile. Maybe less.

And when was the
last time you saw them?

The night
Mr. Presstin was k*lled.

They came to get some gas,

and about an hour later I
heard the news on the radio.

Thank you, Mr. Wilson. Brill.

This was taken right after
Will and I were married.

That's nice.

Come on, Doctor, as a fan
you ought to show more interest.

Right now, I'm more interested in
what Lieutenant Monahan told me.

Oh, what was that?

That those two boys
lied and you swore to it.

What can I tell you?

Tell me it's not true.

Oh, but it is. They
lied and I swore to it.

Why?

Because they both have records and
the police could be very rough on them.

Besides, Will gave them the watch and
the clothes. They didn't steal anything.

So what are they lying about?

I saw a bundle of clothes in the house
hours after they'd left for San Francisco.

They came back to get them. But
they told the lieutenant they didn't.

But they did break
in, didn't they?

They'd given back
the house keys.

You can't convince
me they k*lled Will.

I'm just trying to
get at the truth.

Even if it means sacrificing
a couple of innocent kids?

Well, if they're innocent, they
won't have to be sacrificed, will they?

But with their
record... Any record.

Famous last words.

I don't understand you.
You're like two different women.

First time I met you you were so
direct, now you're being evasive.

I'm not being evasive.

Yes, you are. You're unreasonably
protecting two strangers. Why?

I'm trying to protect
my husband's memory.

What has it got to
do with the boys?

Because Will hit Nick

in the face.

That's why he gave him
the watch, to make up for it.

There now, you take that crumb
and you give it to a columnist

and they'll blow it
all out of proportion.

Why did he hit
him to begin with?

Careful, Doctor.

You might find out things about
your idol you don't want to know.

Try me.

Will hit people in the face because
that's the kind of a man he was.

Both onscreen and off.

Nick probably said
something he didn't like,

I don't know, looked at
him cockeyed, and ham!

And who's to blame him?

That's how he became a star.

Millions of people paid millions
and millions of dollars to watch him

punch other people out.

In the theater, on the
screen. Not in real life.

This was real life to Will.

This dressing room
and others like it.

Sets. Locations.

Everything outside the
studio was make-believe, fake.

Me, other women,

the house, telethon.

They were all just
pauses between takes.

That must've been
pretty rough on you.

Why? I knew the
ground rules going in.

Will never tried to deceive me.

And if he was having
an affair with a starlet,

I was always the
first one to know.

Because Will told me.

Do I shock you, Doctor?

No, surprise me.

How could a woman like
you accept those terms?

Love.

Loving and being
loved by Will Presstin

was worth anything.

I've got to go to work.

Was it something I said?

No. It was everything you said.

Will Presstin could have
done organic gardening

for all the herbicide
poisons in his blood.

Well, there's got to be an
answer here somewhere.

We just don't know
where to look, that's all.

Well, maybe the answer is
simply that the little hit on the head

was just one too many.

You're beginning to sound
like Monahan, you know that.

He staggered before he got
hit, that's what the cabbie said.

Cab drivers have been
known to make up stories.

They think it helps them
to get bigger tips. Oh.

Where you going?

Not on a merry-go-round
ride, I hope.

How did you know he was
drunk? Was his speech slurred?

Well, he didn't say much.

What did he do?

Slept, mostly.

Say, you want to go
around the block again?

Yeah, go around again.

He must've been awake
when he got into the cab?

Barely. And after he got
in he went out like a light,

like he had six too many.

And then when he got
out, he nearly fell down

as he staggered
up his front steps.

It doesn't make sense.
Neither does this.

What?

Driving around and
around the block.

Why don't we take a nice
ride out to the airport and back?

I got a better place for
you to take me. Disneyland?

No. The bar where you
picked up Presstin that night.

Again the meter. And
make it snappy! Okay.

Just one sh*t of bourbon.

One sh*t of bourbon, neat?

Yeah. No chaser.

Did you serve him or
was it taken to his table?

Well, let's see, the guys were
all standing here at the bar.

Hey, you think somebody
tried to slip him a mickey?

Hey, no way. Here let me
show you what happened.

I pour him a sh*t

and he downed it right away.

Just like in his movies.

Was that before or after
Adams threw the punch?

Before. What happened
after the punch?

It took four guys
to hold Will back.

See, I don't like no
brawling in my place.

Was he hurt?

Nah. Maybe his
pride just a little.

Then he went to the gent's room to check
to see if he had any cuts on his lips.

I think, I guess.

But he was all right
when he came out?

Yeah. Kind of pale, I would say.

Sick, would you say? No.

Sort of shook up.
But definitely not sick.

Was he staggering?

Staggering? From what?

I don't know, maybe
Adams' punch?

Adams can't punch his
way out of a paper bag.

He wouldn't be able to
stagger my Win with one punch.

Now, have I answered
your questions, pal?

Yes, pal, you've
answered my questions.

This is wonderful work,
Quincy. It's just wonderful.

I don't see a single area
you've left unexplored.

I'll say that Superman was
k*lled by a feather duster.

Well, we have to accept
the fact that heroes die, too.

So finish the report and
sign the death certificate.

But something is missing.
No, no. Nothing is missing here.

This is wonderful
work. It's just wonderful.

Sign the certificate. Will you
listen to me? I can't sign the...

What you may be
missing is the human factor.

The human factor?

Quincy, if you could
hear the calls that I get

from surviving
members of the family.

Now Presstin's widow
called. She's really upset.

She wants to put
all this behind her.

Understandably she'd like to have
the funeral as soon as possible.



I was with Mrs. Presstin yesterday.
How come she didn't tell me any of this?

I don't know why.

Maybe she senses your
obsession with this case

and she's just
afraid to cross you.

Wait a minute here. You're talking
about me like I'm some kind of a lunatic.

You're zealous. You're
overzealous. How am I overzealous?

I don't know how. You sign the
report and finish the darn certificate!

No, I'm not! Because I'll
be signing a death warrant

for two kids that
Monahan wants to crucify!

And in my gut, I know
they didn't k*ll Presstin!

Your gut? Your gut's not
scientific. Your job ends in the lab.

One of the values
of this department,

in this kind of work, is
that we are objective.

We have no a* to grind.
Our microscope is objective.

What the courts do and the jury does
after that is not our area of concern.

Well, it should be.

I'm concerned with you and
I'm concerned with the president

and the lady on welfare and
the checker at the supermarket.

And they better be
concerned with me.

And you better be
concerned with me

or else we'll have
to pack it all in!

I don't know how I get
into this. I know all that.

Then give me some more time.
Based on your gut reactions?

No, based on those pictures.

The pictures are wonderful.
The pictures don't show anything.

That's what I'm trying to say.
There is something missing!

You exhaust me.
You just exhaust me.

I'm calling Presstin's
widow and telling her that

she can go ahead with the
funeral arrangements tomorrow.

So you'd better finish the report because
after that the whole body will be missing.

Then what you're saying is I'm
wasting my time talking to you?

You've got it. Exactly.
Now I'm a mind reader.

What's the sense talking to
you? Something is missing.

It doesn't mean anything!
Something is missing!

You make up your
mind! Do what you want!

I think I'm exhausted already.

I feel like I put in a
whole day. I just...

But what's the rush?

I may not be able to find the
answer by tomorrow morning.

Maybe this is one of those
cases where there is no answer.

There has to be. Otherwise
somebody's getting away with m*rder.

Well, then eventually
they'll get caught,

whether Will's in
his grave or not.

That's not true.

See, the victim's body is
the best witness to a m*rder.

It's loaded with clues that point
a finger directly at the m*rder*r.

Well, obviously
not in Will's case.

I've been overlooking something.

I could find it if I
had a little more time.

I've run out of time, Doctor.

No kidding.

And I'll tell you
something else,

those boys are innocent.

That's why I'm going to swear
I didn't know they came back.

But that's perjury.
That's your word for it.

Mine's loyalty.

Not only to them, to Will.

After the incredible ordeal
he must've gone through,

I want to give him some peace.

And nobody's going to
stop me from doing that.

Not even you, Doctor.

I just came over to tell you guys a
couple of things I think you ought to know.

The lawyer Mrs. Presstin got us told us
never to say anything unless he's here.

Did he say you couldn't listen?

We're listening.

Sybil Presstin is about to
perjure herself for you guys.

How? Shut up.

She knows the clothes were in the
house when you took off for San Francisco.

She knows you came back, she
knows you broke into the house.

That doesn't mean
we k*lled Will Presstin.

I said shut up, Nick.

I don't think you guys had
anything to do with Presstin's death.

But if she perjures herself in
your defense, it can hurt your case.

And she can go to jail no
matter how your case turns out.

I don't want anything
to happen to Sybil.

I wasn't even sure she
knew about the clothes.

They're not going to believe
anything you say, man.

I'm just talking for myself now.

Mel never went in the
house and he never saw Will.

They're conning you, man. I'm
telling you not to say another word.

I've got to.

I want to make a statement now.

We drove a little north
of San Luis Obispo,

when we realized we forgot the
clothes. We had to drive all the way back.

What time was this?

A little before 11:00, I think.

Go on.

Well, neither of
us had the keys,

so Mel said he'd stay in the car
while I went and got the clothes.

I went upstairs to our
bedroom to get the bundle.

When I was about to
go out the window again,

I heard the television
on in the living room,

I knew the house
had been locked up.

I went into the living room,

I saw Will lying
on the floor, dead.

What'd the room look like?

It was a wreck. Like
there'd been a fight.

Then what'd you do?

I didn't know what to do.

So I ran. I was scared.

Not too scared to take the clothes
you were stealing, were you?

I didn't think. I didn't even
know I had it in my hands.

You discovered the body of
a man who befriended you,

treated you like your own kid
and all you could do was run?

Well, I didn't know
what else to do.

You didn't know what else to do?

Did you ever hear
of calling the police?

I didn't know he'd been
m*rder*d. I thought maybe he OD'd.

OD'd? Wait a minute.

Are you saying
Presstin used dr*gs?

Why else do you think he was so
friendly to a couple of ex-junkies like us?

You must be on something right
now to make up a story like that.

I'm telling you he used dope.

What kind of dope?
Pills? Powder? Needles?

Needles. It is
some kind of story.

He didn't have a
needle track on him.

Maybe you didn't look too
hard. We saw him sh**ting up.

Mel and I were cutting some
ivy outside the bathroom window

and we saw him giving
himself an injection.

You actually saw the needle?

He had his back to us.

We've seen enough junkies
sh**ting up to know what he was doing.

Quincy, you think
you could've missed it?

Does his wife know
he was a junkie?

Why don't you ask her?

Because Mrs. Presstin would rather
die than hurt her husband's image.

Where are you going?
To preserve my image.

Some of those needles are so
tiny they leave very little marks.

See the scars on
his arms and here.

That old gore wound on his inner
thigh, that's why I missed them.

Take a look, Sam.

I'm still missing them.

I don't see any needle marks.

No, no, no. Not needle marks.

Those depressions
right there. See.

Well, they're just
the scar tissue.

Hey, wait a minute.

Yeah, maybe Lipodystrophy.

Exactly.

The fat under those tiny
pits could have atrophied.

Sam, let's get some of that
tissue under a microscope, huh?

Yeah? Dr. Quincy,
they're here now.

Who's here?

The mortuary people, that's who.

Oh, listen, can't you stall them for a
few minutes? I think we're onto something.

Tell them I haven't
signed the death certificate.

Wait a minute. What did you
say was the explanation for that?

Well, that's easy. Tell them
I can't find my pen, okay?

Lipodystrophy if I ever
saw it. Have a look.

Oh, Sam. What a beautiful sight.

Whatever turns you on.

Well, I'm finally beginning
to see a little daylight.

Now, I want tissue from every
depression in that skin you can find.

Then I'll release the body.
I'll write a pending certificate,

let them get on with
the funeral. Huh?

I think I missed something.

Well, we'll have
everything we need.

Set up the microtome to prepare slides
from the liver and kidney sections, okay?

What are we looking for?
Or is that a state secret?

Oh, it may be the best
kept secret in Hollywood.

We're looking for
Orphan Annie's eyes.

Now come on, Quincy, I'm trying to
solve a m*rder and you're drawing circles.

Orphan Annie's eyes.

That's the nickname
for them because they're

round and blank,
but full of meaning.

What do they mean?

It means that those plus
the lesions on the kidneys

are positive proof of a
diabetic out of control.

Diabetes? That's right.

Will Presstin's a
diabetic? Oh, yeah.

Quite along time, too.

You see, continuous
injections of insulin

cause the fat to atrophy
around the injection area.

Quincy, I don't believe it.

I mean, he was a
boozer, a scrapper.

Yeah. I know. He rode hard,

he did his own fight scenes and
he drank with the best of them.

Then to counteract the sugar
reaction, he took a sh*t of insulin.

He was walking a tightrope.

But how come it took
you so long to pick this up?

For the same reason you couldn't
find an insulin syringe in his house.

It was a well-kept secret.

Anything to protect the image.

No. I think the person who did this was
protecting himself more than the image.

Well, you're going to
explain that, aren't you?

We know that the diabetes was
only a contributory cause to his death.

Let's not forget about
that blow to his head.

He was staggering around because he was
weak. He was going into a diabetic coma.

Wait a minute. Hold it. You said
he was taking insulin regularly.

Yeah, but he didn't take
any insulin the night he d*ed.

Well, how do you know that?

There was no insulin present
around the injection areas.

After the fracas in the bar,

he went into the men's room.

I'll lay you eight to five he went in
there to give himself a sh*t of insulin.

Now if there was only water in
that syringe instead of insulin,

that certainly would explain his
getting progressively sicker. Wouldn't it?

Water. What are you talking about?
Who would put water in his syringe?

Somebody close to him, somebody
who could substitute water for the insulin.

Now, here's what
I think happened.

The person who
did substitute it,

came back expecting to find
Presstin dead. But he wasn't.

They wanted to get rid of
the evidence. The syringe.

But he was alive. Barely
alive, but he was alive,

and they finished the job.

They should have been patient,
he was about to die anyway.

But who? The widow,
Granger, Roberts, Adams,

those kids? Will you
forget about the kids?

They're not smart enough
to invent that story they told.

Well, Sybil was 200 miles away.

Granger. He had a
motive, opportunity

and he had the
keys to the house.

That's it, Quincy, the gopher.

Presstin's errand boy.

Quincy, I can't close the case until
I put the needle in Granger's hands.

Maybe I can put it there.

You called him an errand boy.

Get me the Broxton
pharmacy in Westwood, please.

What are you doing that for?

I'm checking out Presstin's
insulin connection.

Hello, sir.

Listen, my name is Dr. Quincy.

Yes, I'm with the
coroner's office.

I believe you filled out a
prescription of mine for Mrs. Presstin?

Yes, that's right. That's right.

Yes. Listen, could you tell me if you have
a prescription on file for a Dan Granger?

Uh-huh.

Do you have anything
on Will Presstin?

Thank you very much.

Well?

Dan Granger's been picking
up a prescription for years.

Insulin for diabetes.

How's that for
protecting his image?

I'm sorry I took so long...

Oh, gentlemen,

I didn't know you were
coming to the funeral.

I'm truly touched.

I'm afraid that's not
the reason we're here.

They came to arrest
me is the reason.

Whatever for?

For the m*rder of your husband.

That's impossible.

They were the
closest of friends.

I know, ma'am.

So close that he was able to
substitute water for the insulin

that your husband
needed to stay alive.

They know that
he was a diabetic.

It's all right. Now that
he's dead, it doesn't matter.

But to accuse
Dan of such a thing,

that's the wildest
thing I've ever heard of.

That's what I've been
trying to tell them.

It does no good telling us.

It's the DA you
have to convince.

But can't it wait till
after the funeral?

I'm sorry. We have
to be down there now.

Don't worry. I'll have my lawyer
in the district attorney's office

by the time you get downtown.

You'll be back in an hour.

You're the best, Sybil.

Handcuffs?

No.

Then let's get
the hell out of here

and let the poor lady
bury her husband in peace.

Well, now that I've
lost my chauffeur,

perhaps you'll drive me
to the funeral, Doctor?

Oh! My gloves.

You sure you don't
mind driving me?

I have to if I want to
keep an eye on you.

Stick with me.

I look a lot better when
I'm not in mourning.

How do you look in prison gray?

Is that supposed to
be some sort of joke?

I'm not joking. You
m*rder*d your husband.

Now I know you're kidding.

I wish I was.

But the evidence I have
against you is too serious for that.

Evidence?

This lipstick is the same
brand and the same color

we found on your husband's
mouth when he d*ed.

Oh, come on, Doctor.

I'm sure thousands of
women use this lipstick.

And according to
my husband's record,

he probably kissed most of them.

Was Clint Adams'
wife one of them?

Betty?

Mmm-hmm.

Yes.

I think she was number one
on the hit parade at the time.

He was going to divorce
you and marry her?

That's a lie.

No, it is not a lie
and you know it.

She gave me this letter. Your
husband had sent it to her.

He asked you for a divorce.
That's why you m*rder*d him.

Well, if you thought that, why did
you let Lieutenant Monahan arrest Dan?

I wanted to see if Dan knew as
much about you as I did, but he didn't.

He's innocent.

I couldn't have done
it. I was 200 miles away.

That alibi won't hold either.

I went to see Mr. Wilson who
owns the gas station you use.

He was kind enough
to give me this receipt.

Now you had your car oiled and lubed three
days before your husband was m*rder*d.

What does that prove?

The mileage gauge on your car and
that little sticker that Mr. Wilson put

inside your car door.

It shows that you traveled exactly 212
miles since you had the car serviced.

If you had called Monahan from
where you say you had called him,

there would have been at
least a 500 mile difference.

What can I say?

Why don't you try the truth?

What've you got to lose?

All right.

Will did want a divorce.

After all the
affairs I put up with,

after all the abuse I took.

He was going to dump me for a


I couldn't have that.

You want to know what
your hero was really like?

He was a cruel, sadistic,
egomaniac, and I loved him.

I couldn't lose him.

You want to hear
about his good deeds?

Telethon. All public relations.

They'd show him a list of five
diseases and he'd pick one.

And he'd go out there on stage

and he'd come off shining,

with all of America loving him.

And he'd fire some grip for
not applauding him loud enough.

I applauded louder than anybody.

I thought the lack of
insulin would be enough.

But when I came back
here, I heard him murmuring,

He was still alive.

Barely, but alive.

What did you come back for?

To get rid of all
of his syringes

and every other trace of the
fact that Will was a diabetic.

And I wanted to
kiss him goodbye.

Then I upended
a lot of furniture,

turned on the television set,

got all the
syringes I could find

and drove 20 miles away

to wait to hear the
news on the car radio.

It wasn't very clever, was it?

Well, you'll have to forgive me.

It's the first time I
ever k*lled anybody.

We could keep
this our little secret.

You're asking me to be
an accessory after the fact.

If you let me slip
through your fingers,

you'll never forgive yourself.

You win some, you
lose some, I always say.

Well, as a charter member
of the Will Presstin fan club,

how would you like to take
his widow to the funeral?

Of course.

But I'm a little tired.

Would you give me
your arm, Doctor?

There you are. That's terrific.

Danny, a round of drinks on me.

This is a special night.

If you're paying it's not
special, it's unheard of.

Come on. You know I'm
the fastest buck in the west.

I'm still waiting to hear
why this night is so special.

Well, I got a little
surprise for you.

From now on you're going to sign
every death certificate without delay?

I said a surprise,
not a miracle.

No, tonight is the first TV
showing of A Trail of the g*n.

Another Will Presstin
epic, no doubt.

And you still like him even after
what you found out about him?

Sam, I don't like what I've read about
Wagner, but I can enjoy his music.

And Gauguin wasn't an
angel but he sure could paint.

Besides, Trail of the g*n is the
only Presstin picture I ever missed.

Quincy. Sorry, but you're
going to have to miss it again.

No more TV.

What happened? Busted.

Well, Quincy, the
thought was very nice.

Sit down. I always come prepared
for this kind of an emergency,

you know that.

There we go. Can you
get some popcorn, will you?

And where are the drinks?