All language subtitles for ironside_s01e02_the_leaf_in_the_forest

Oh, no.

Mark.

I ain't deaf.

Get even Ed to come on up, please, and
get me the commissioner on the phone.

Yes, sir, boss.

The boys downstairs are handling it.

Chief, what do you want to get involved
for?

Look, I worked on a similar case a
couple of years ago before I became a

consultant. We never caught the killer.

This could be the same man. I like to
finish what I start.

Did you ask the commissioner?

He told the commissioner.

Well, if it is the same man, why do you
suppose he laid off for a year?

Maybe he was waiting for me to recover.

In any event, whether it's the same man
or not, we are going over to the abode

of the deceased.

What can you do there?

Why don't we just wait till they come
back here with all the evidence?

Well, I want to see this one firsthand.

Come on, you've got something on your
mind. What is it?

Trees. Let's go.

Just like the others, Bob.

Makes five.

Five old ladies smothered with pillows.

Lights left on. No fingerprints.

No motive. We got nothing. We got a
footprint.

On a crumpled newspaper.

Proving what? That the killer was a man
with a size 9 foot.

Less than that. Just someone wearing a
man's shoe size 9.

Can I have this one?

You mean all five? The Bayside
Strangler? I mean this one. Esther

take the rest.

What's the difference between this and
the rest?

They're never alike, Vince. Not exactly.

For instance, this killer came in the
front door. The others came in the

The others were all ground floor
apartments.

That's two differences.

You look for the Bayside Strangler. I
look for the killer of Esther Garrison.

Deal?

Am I both looking for the same man?

Deal. All right, boys, let's go. The
chief's giving this one his personal

attention. On your way out.

Tell the reporters we expect to make an
arrest within 50 hours.

Do we? No, but we've been telling them
48 hours for years.

Is this one different?

Weren't you listening, Eve?

Well, I know the door.

Is that important?

Ed, let's pick up some souvenirs.

That camera, for instance.

For you.

And that small radio.

As to your question, the best hiding
places are these.

For a book, a library.

For a man, a city.

For a leaf, a forest.

Ancient Persian proverb.

And Confucius say man who use proverb to
reply to direct question often talk

through hats.

Waste not, want not.

Right now.

This morning, neither one of you seemed
to understand why the fact Mrs.

Garrison's killer, unlike the others,
entering through the door might be of

supreme importance.

Has time perhaps heightened your powers
of perception?

Well, let's not all raise our hands at
once.

The others were ground floor jobs. Mrs.
Garrison lived on the fifth floor.

He couldn't get out the window. But of
course he could get in Mrs. Garrison's

door. How? Did he knock? And when Mrs. G
said, who's there, he said, mad

strangler? Or maybe the door was
unlocked. Four widows strangled in just

month, and this one sits alone in her
apartment reading a newspaper.

Bayside Strangler's still at large. Just
sat there in her apartment with her

door unlocked.

Maybe he forced the door.

Did he? No.

Mrs. G knew her killer. The others did
not.

I call that a significant difference.

Agreed?

Well?

The best hiding places are these.

For a book, a library... You said that,
Chief.

Have you ever heard of a mass killing
that turned out to be just a murder? A

busload of people gets blown up by a
bomb and the police run around in

looking for a maniac with a yen to blow
up buses. Only it turns out they should

have been looking for somebody with a
motive to kill the conductor.

Oh. Yes, oh.

The best place to hide a leaf is a
forest.

And a good way to hide a crime is to
make it look like one of a series.

We don't know. We don't know a thing.

We don't know if this is a leaf in the
forest case, and if it is, we don't know

which is the leaf and which is the
forest.

Now, five in the same neighborhood.

All similar.

But is one different? Does one have a
motive? And if so, is that one Esther

Garrison? Now, when we speak of motive
children, we frequently find we're

speaking of money. Now, all five victims
are thought to be poor.

Query. Was Mrs. Garrison as badly off
financially as the rest?

A radio, a camera, a rather nice carving
set, all fairly expensive, I'd say. All

unused. Now, is that compatible with
poverty?

Well, she may not have bought them
herself.

Now you're talking. How would she have
gotten them if she didn't buy them?

Well, you know, they're sort of
premiums. That's right, advertising

But that kind doesn't come in a box of
cereal.

Now, what kind of advertiser uses that
kind of premium?

Automobile dealers.

Sure. Buy from Smiling Sydney and get a
carving set. Only the Motor Vehicle

Bureau tells us that Mrs. G never owned
a car. Now, what else?

Well, great balls of fire. Don't you
people watch any commercials?

Interest compounded every 15 minutes.
Open an account with us and receive free

this handsome radio, this stainless
steel carving set, this handsome camera

presentation case.

Yeah.

Vince Bayliss here.

I am the manager of the Bayside Savings
and Loan.

Remember us?

We are the people who work harder to
make your hard -working money work hard

hard -working you. All right, got it.

Got a little glare on the glasses.

Be about five minutes, Mr. Bayliss. Oh.

Sorry for the interruption. We were
just... You were inquiring... Mrs.

Esther Garrison. You said you remembered
her.

Oh, yes, indeed.

Would you step right this way?

Here we are. Come in, come in, come in.

Would you bring in Mrs.

Garrison's account, please?

Yes, sir.

Terrible thing.

You know, she came right into my office.

Well, of course, a great many people do
that, you know. They like to talk. They

like to meet the manager before they
open an account.

She seemed to be very interested in the
premiums.

Free gifts, she called them.

Yes, indeedy, that's her, all right.

Oh, I...

I asked her which one she wanted, and
she said all of them.

And? Well, I told her she'd have to open
three accounts in that event, so she

did. One for $200, one for $500, and one
for $1 ,000.

Oh, thank you.

There we are now.

One was in her own name, and this was a
joint account. She and the business

manager, both signatures required for
withdrawal.

And this one, well, we'd like to refer
to this as our and -or account. Again,

both names, hers and the business
manager's. Either person could make

withdrawal. And were there any
withdrawals? From any of the accounts.

Now, no further transactions.

What was his name?

The business manager, the other name on
the account.

Officer, I do not wish to appear.

uncooperative, but I'm a banker.

And I'm a policewoman, investigating the
death of one of your depositors. Now,

if I have to have a warrant, I can get
one in about... 20 minutes, at the most.

We're ready, Mr. Bayliss.

Coming! Just one name, and you can get
back to your public.

DuPont.

Pierre DuPont, Old Bay Building.

Estee. Estee was my favorite client.

Sometimes my only client.

Lovely woman.

Didn't know a debenture from a straddle
and trusted me implicitly. And why not?

I was her husband's accountant.

And when the great auditor up yonder
closed his account, I became a business

manager, naturally. Did he leave her
much?

Well, it depends on what you mean by
much.

$200 ,000. That's much.

Only the beginning. I built it into a
million.

Pig bladders, linseed oil futures,
wildcat real estate. Maybe I was lucky,

was also a good go -go trader.

Only it all stopped when I told her she
had a million. That was two years ago.

She took over?

No.

No, but she turned conservative.

Told me to stop speculating.

Gambling, she called it, which it was.

And I go into banks and savings and
loans and state bonds.

Did you?

In my dodge, the customer is the boss.

So I got her a racy 5 % a year. I felt
guilty about taking the fee, but I did.

What was your fee?

Oh, 2 % of the account a year, $10 ,000
starting out, $20 ,000 once you got to a

million. Oh, don't let the looks of the
office fool you.

I'm a devout believer in low overhead.

Oh, you want to know about the will?

The will, Chief.

Still trying to figure out where we met.

Have we met?

Pierre Dupont's my name now.

You speak French, Chief? A little.

Bridge.

Peter Bridges.

Are you getting the rest of it? It was a
while back.

Yes, it was.

Refreshing, your recollection.

You nailed me for... False pretenses,
fraud, bunco... And practicing

without a license, that's right.

I did three years.

I've been clean ever since, but of
course you won't believe that.

Good.

Her will.

And written. What the lawyers call a
holographic will.

The estate goes to her old church in
Duquesne, Illinois.

Have they heard the good news?

Yes, I notified the pastor yesterday.
Here's a copy of my telegram to the

pastor. Note the dates.

Now, this morning, I phoned your office.
I told them who I was and where they

could find me. You were out at the bank,
I guess.

But you'll find the message when you get
back there. Very cooperative.

Meaning too cooperative?

And if I hadn't done it, I'd have been
uncooperative? I didn't say that. You

thought. Yeah.

I don't blame you.

I'm an ex -con. My client's been
murdered.

Of course, she was obviously done it by
a madman who killed several just like

her.

And I had no motive at all.

But I've got to be a suspect.

Well, frankly... Now, let's save some
time, shall we? Where was I the night

before last?

I was home with my wife. No one called.

No one came over. It's just her word.

It's not a perfect alibi, but it's
better than nothing.

You can go right over there and explain
to her the penalties for perjury.

Not for being an accessory.

It's a shame about your record.

You could have joined the force.

Well,

you better get going, Chief.

My wife does her marketing in the
afternoons.

Well, there isn't anything else, is
there?

Oh, yes, there is.

You forgot to tell me not to leave town.

Don't leave town.

He was here, Chief.

All night.

All night.

You don't believe me, do you?

Mrs. DuPont. That's right.

I'm Mrs. DuPont, whose husband once did
something wrong.

He told me how it would be.

He said you'd be very polite.

And that you wouldn't call me a liar,
but that you'd ask me again.

And again.

Well, you have done that.

Now, what can I do to make you believe
me, Mr. Ironside? Keep thinking about

Tuesday night.

Why can't you leave us alone? I tell
you, Pete was here all that night.

He was here.

Did I wake you?

Yeah, you woke me.

Is that all you wanted to know?

No, I want the newspaper.

Well, I'd swear you had it. I must be
going blind.

That's today's. Well, excuse me.

You got any special date in mind? Maybe
the morning after the second Louis

Schmeling?

I want that one over there. The one with
the footprint.

Oui, mon general.

That's French.

I'm glad you told me.

Sit down, Mark.

Read it.

Okay. No, no, the back page.

Somebody at the door.

I didn't hear... Answer the door.

Well, move.

There's nobody there.

Nobody where?

At the door.

Now, you're getting confused, Mark, and
no wonder with the hours you keep. Why

don't you go to bed?

Good night, huh?

Mark.

I'm sorry I couldn't let you in on it.

But what you just did gave us a very
important clue.

Thanks. By going to the door?

By dropping the paper.

Don't mention it.

Why would she run that risk?

She really wanted that paper.

Yes, because there was something special
in it, something she couldn't get from

another paper or from listening to the
radio or watching TV.

Now, she wasn't reading the front page
because the footprint was on the front

page, and when you put a paper down, the
page you were reading usually goes on

the bottom.

Now, this is from the back page of the
paper, the page that was on the bottom,

the page next to the floor.

Marty's Market.

Readers' questions about stocks and
bonds answered.

What is a proxy, and to whom are proxies
sent?

Confused? Bayside.

And then there's the answer, that a
proxy gives someone the right to vote

and that it's sent to stockholders
usually by management.

Interesting.

Doesn't necessarily mean anything.

Doesn't necessarily not.

Sure, I remember the letter.

It was unusual, because it didn't ask
for advice on how to make a fortune in

market.

I mean, if I really knew what was going
on in the market, would I be here five

days a week, ruining my eyesight for
short money?

What did you do with the letter? I
answered it. I mean the letter itself,

piece of paper.

Oh.

I filed it. Do you remember if it was
handwritten?

Of course I do.

It was in aqua ink, an off -white decal
stationery.

How should I remember if it was
handwritten? If I answered it, then I

been able to read it. You want to know
more? Take a look.

You're sure it's there?

If I didn't use the back of it to write
on, it's there.

Let me know if you find a ham and cheese
on rye.

Professor, if you please.

Query.

Did Esther Garrison write to Marty's
market inquiring about proxies?

At left, the beginning of her will,
which we know she wrote.

At right, part of the letter in
question.

Mr. Sanger will now demonstrate his
newly acquired facility in

using as his text the words to whom.

Like many Americans, it would appear
that Mrs. Garrison was a little hazy as

what a proxy is about.

But something made her decide it was
time she found out. May we assume that

got one, probably involving stocks she
didn't know she owned, and aren't we

curious to know more about this strange
event?

The exchange would have lists, but
they're clues now.

Then you must try your friendly
neighborhood stockbroker.

What's going on, Chief? Have you made an
arrest?

Sorry, boys. No comment. You gotta tell
us. No comment. No comment.

We need some kind of comment.

You, uh, wanted to see me?

I've been wanting to see you for the
last three hours, ever since this

began.

Sorry, I was busy. I guess I didn't get
your message.

Break near and bayside killings.

Is suspect in custody?

I take it the suspect, It's DuPont. I
haven't made any statement.

You haven't denied.

Well, what am I supposed to deny?

Well, they know you brought them in.
What are they supposed to print?

they like. I don't write newspaper
stories.

Oh, no, but you use them. Well, maybe.

All right, I use them.

You haven't got a thing on DuPont. I've
got motive.

Here, look these over.

She wanted banks and bonds, but he set
up a system of matching buy and sell

orders to speculate with her money. She
found out and she was going to blow the

whistle on him. All right, that says he
should have killed her.

Can you prove that he did?

Can you prove that he could have?

You're always talking about leaves and
forests.

I've got a city out here.

Half of it is on the raw edge of panic.
Oh, stop reading the paper.

I don't mean the papers.

I'm paid to take whatever they want to
dish out to me.

And I don't mean those phone calls from
the mayor.

We're on the same side, so I can deal
with that.

You know what's really worrying me, Bob?

Applications for pistol permits.

Look, people always get jittery. Not
like this.

Fifteen applications in the last ten
days, and all from Bayside. The normal

would be maybe one a year.

And, Bob, we're going to have to okay
some of these.

And by and by, there will be a rustling
in the bushes.

And somebody's going to take a shot at
it. If we're lucky, maybe somebody's dog

will get creased. But if we're not,
it'll be somebody's kid.

You think I don't know that?

Commissioner, all this is going to stop
with this arrest.

And start over ten times worse as soon
as you let that man loose. Who said I'm

going to turn him loose? You have no
proof.

I haven't talked to him yet. You talked
to him once already.

I didn't have the motive then.

I'll have his confession in triplicate
15 minutes after we start talking.

Oh, go ahead.

Well, it'll take him a while to get a
lawyer.

Oh, he doesn't want a lawyer.

An innocent man.

Oh, come on now, Chief.

Look, we can go on with it as long as
your strength holds out.

It'll still come down to this. Yes, I
intermingled her money with my own. And

you bought stock.

If it went up, it was yours. If not, it
was hers.

You're oversimplifying.

All right.

I may have broken the law, and her
estate may have a suit against me. And

they win, I'm good for the judgment.

Sure, with her money.

Whatever you say.

But I did not kill her.

The same as the killers. You know that.

Myra tells me you checked the closet.

You didn't find the killer's shoes,
though. The ones that match the

because I didn't.

Ah, in a minute. No use. There's been
another one. Another one of what?

widow strangled in Bayside, just like
the first five.

When? Oh, we found the body about 10, 15
minutes ago.

Well, Chief, I don't suppose you'll need
me anymore.

Devlin and the boys said you promised
them a statement. Devlin and his boys

take a flaming, flying... All right,
Chief, I'll handle them.

No worry, I'll tell them it was all a...

Honest mistake.

No hard feelings on my part.

Thanks for the coffee. Excuse me.

Mr. DuPont, I'd like to very much...
Chief, you can have a statement. Please,

gentlemen.

Chili's on.

Chief, you have to eat.

Of course.

What?

Thank you.

About DuPont. Forget him.

Forget him? Whatever he did, he didn't
do last night's murder.

He was with me. Now sit down.

I have spent the morning doing what we
should have done in the first place.

Looking and thinking.

Look and you may not see. Think and you
may not see.

But do both at once, which is not easy
for some people.

And you see.

And now you see something.

Thank you.

And well put, officer.

We looked for a pattern. We noted
similarities, we noted differences.

But among the similarities, was there
one which would help us find the killer?

You've lost me.

If they were all killed with a knife, we
could look for a man with a knife. Too

obvious?

Well, why don't you just tell us what
you found?

Maybe I'd better.

No, I was looking at the pictures.

And it suddenly occurred to me that
these six widows all occupied apartments

which, while not what you'd call
desirable locations, did have rather

views from their windows. So I looked to
see just what those women could see

from their windows.

Number one, a piece of the waterfront,
an office building, Bradley Plaza.

Number two, gasworks, building under
construction, Bradley Plaza.

Number three, part of the freeway,
Bradley Plaza.

Number four, Coit Tower, Bradley Plaza.

Number six, Bradley Plaza.

What about number five?

Forget that. That's Esther Garrison's.
I'll explain later.

Maybe. Maybe.

The others, whatever else they could
see, could all see Bradley Plaza.

If I can see you, can you not see me?

If each victim could see the plaza from
her window, could that window not also

be seen from the plaza? Yes.

And the killer's... The next word is
possibly.

Possibly starts there in the plaza.
Exactly.

A killer, probably male, almost
certainly deranged, drawn to the plaza

compulsion, and once there, driven to
murder lonely old women whose lights are

on. How does he know whose light? We'll
ask him when we find him.

If. It's only a theory.

Then don't knock it, test it. How?

Stake out the plaza. Only the beginning,
Ed.

We put somebody in an apartment with a
view of the plaza and leave the lights

on. Well, you'd have to use a woman.

Yes, and she gets no protection because
he only attacks women living alone.

You might be setting up the seventh
murder. A defenseless old woman. She

has to look old and not necessarily
defenseless.

We could use a young, vigorous graduate
of the police academy, skilled in judo.

Down by the riverside, down by the
riverside, we're gonna meet and we're

shout. Down by the riverside, shout
all...

How do you feel, Eve? Like quitting the
force.

I'm just not cut out to be an old lady.

Oh, just one lamp, Chop Sir. You see, I
live alone.

Just one bottle of milk every four days,
please.

You don't use much living alone.

If I'm not at home when you deliver the
hat, Sonny, just leave it with a

neighbor. You see, I live alone.

Maybe I ought to put an ad in the paper.

Living alone seeks services of mad
strangler. Good night, Chief.

It's a good thing you got here.

I might have killed him. You wouldn't
want that on your conscience.

Oh.

You know him?

No way.

He's the milkman.

I suppose it had to be somebody like a
milkman, by your theory.

It had to be someone who knew who lived
behind every lighted window.

Maybe I was a little lucky.

No trial, I suppose.

What do you think? I think he'll be
found too sick to stand trial.

He confessed to them all?

Yes, all six.

Including? All.

Well, I guess that about does it.

Congratulations, Bob.

Take it easy, Chief.

Put it back on the flaming table.

For the hero of the department, you're
in a rather bad temper.

There's only one thing that's worse for
my temper than an unsolved murder.

That's a solved murder where I can't
prove the solution.

You mean Mrs. Garrison?

But at the commissioner's office, you
said... I will say anything.

He didn't kill Mrs. Garrison. Not the
milkman, I know he didn't. You'd know it

too if you stopped to think about it.

What? I said if you thought, so think.

When we left the Garrison apartment the
morning after she was killed, what was

the last thing I did?

Do you remember?

You don't remember.

Well, I picked up a bottle of milk.

Cold milk, left outside the door.

Obviously left there that very morning.

So? Well, these murders were committed
in the middle of the night, long before

the milk was delivered. The killer
didn't leave milk for the others. Why

he? He'd killed them. He confessed six,
and he'd have confessed to 60.

But he did not kill Mrs. Garrison.

Then DuPont.

Exactly. The leaf in the forest.

Only when you hide a leaf, you don't
make a forest.

You find one and put the leaf there.
That's what he did.

Killed her, knowing there was a mad
killer loose, and Mrs. Garrison would go

his account.

But Mrs. DuPont doesn't think so.

She's lying for him. Maybe, but she
doesn't think he's a killer.

He just wouldn't understand, not being a
woman.

What now, female intuition?

But if you're right... If you're right,
I'll kiss you on both cheeks, be

eternally grateful, and we will have
broken a murder case.

Come along, children.

You know, now I'm just supposing, and we
know it's not true.

How would a man go about it?

Go about what?

Getting his wife to give him an alibi
for murder.

I told you. I just said, how would he?
I'm just speculating.

This is excellent.

Thank you.

I don't suppose he'd come home in the
middle of the night and wake up his wife

and say, well, I just knocked off old
Mrs. Garrison.

She won't bother us anymore.

But you'd better say I was home, if
anybody asks.

And they will.

No.

No, he couldn't do that.

Because it's important that the wife not
know he's a murderer.

She's got to believe she's protecting an
innocent man.

I'm not protecting.

Of course not. Just a story.

A little story that never happened.

The way I see it... Are you through?

Not quite.

The way I see it...

Morning after Mrs. Garrison died.

Breakfast. You eat breakfast over there?

Yes.

Well, you... The two of you would be
eating.

I bet you make a good breakfast.

You'd be eating.

He'd finish his orange juice. Read the
paper.

Look at that. Mrs. Garrison got herself
killed. Then he'd remind you who Mrs.

Garrison was, the client and all.

And then he wouldn't talk about it. He
wouldn't talk about anything. And he'd

look worried.

And by and by, you'd say, what's wrong,
dear? He'd say, nothing, nothing. The

way husbands do. But you'd get it out of
him that there were some irregularities

in the way he'd handled her account.

That the police were going to suspect
him. And worst of all, that he'd spent

whole evening alone in his office. With
his record, he couldn't afford a

scandal. Maybe he'd suggest it. Maybe
you would. That you'd say he was home.

not? He hadn't done anything wrong.

But of course, none of this happened.

None of what happened.

Don't you people ever give up?

He was just telling a little story.

Oh.

Yes. Now, you might have convinced your
wife to alibi you without letting her

know what you did or if you did
anything.

Interesting. Because we both know she'd
never do it if she thought you were a

killer.

No, I don't suppose she would.

Oh, was there anything else you wanted?

No.

I guess not.

Well, then, anytime you're in the
neighborhood, come in for a drink.

The shoes.

Hmm?

What?

If it happened at breakfast the way I
said, he'd have read in the paper that

killer left a footprint.

He'd know that he had to get rid of a
pair of shoes. Oh, you already checked

shoes. Did he get rid of some shoes that
day? When he went to work, was there a

package under his arm? About time we
cleaned out this closet.

I'll start by giving these to the
Salvation Army.

Or I'll just drop these at the
shoemakers, the heels.

Did a pair of shoes go out of this
apartment that day? Are they still

Because if they are... He's trying to
confuse you, Myra. Now, you've got no

right. Is there a pair of shoes missing?
Is there?

You're a loyal wife, Mrs. DuPont.

You'd help protect your husband when
he's wrongly accused. Would you cover up

for a killer?

Would you go and alibi for a man that
put a pillow over an old lady's head and

pushed and pushed and kept on pushing
until... No!

Was he with you that night?

No.

Sorry I had to do it this way, Mrs.
DuPont.

He didn't have to do it, you know.

For the money, he didn't have to do it.

I love him.

Do you believe that?

I still do.

Yes, I believe that.

You'll, uh... have to excuse me now.

you'd be better off alone.

The more you get into police work, Eve,
the more you'll know that every time you

solve a case, some innocent person ends
up behind a closed door crying.

It's tough.

You've got to be tougher.

You know, I can't help feeling sorry for
Mrs. DuPont.

Mr. Cummings is quite a shock to her.

I don't know.

It's hard to say whether she was really
in the dark about her husband's

activities or whether she just chose not
to see them.

What I can't understand is why a guy
like DuPont would commit murder to avoid

prosecution on what would have amounted
to a relatively minor charge.

That's not why he killed her. Why else?

Figure it out. Why don't you just tell
us, Professor?

Well, it's simple.

DuPont had power of attorney.

With Esther Garrison dead, he was
executor of her estate.

If he'd gotten away with her murder, he
could have taken over that million

dollars of hers completely and parlayed
it into a fortune for himself.

DuPont was a gambler.

He figured the odds were with him.

Did you make that proverb up, the leaf
in the forest?

It's legitimate.

Ask any Turk.

Turk? You said it was Persian.

Turks are quite familiar with Persian
proverbs.