All language subtitles for Barnaby Jones s02e24 Foul Play

Barnaby Jones, starring Buddy Ebsen,
also starring Lee

Merriweather, with guest stars Andrew
Duggan, Rennie

Santoni, Victor Holchak, George

DiCenzo. Tonight's episode, Foul Play.

A friend of mine behind me. Let him come
through.

Nice to have made it big.

Tony?

They still working out?

I think they're almost finished, Mr.
Sanderson.

Coach Gorman asked me to get his
briefcase from his car.

Well, when Frankie's through on the
court, tell him I want to see him in my

office. Got it?

Yes, sir.

Big Bill wants to see you, Frankie.

Maybe it's important.

Thanks, Danny.

That old Santa's touch.

Come in, Frankie.

Mr. Sanderson?

Close the door.

Frankie, I'm a man that levels with his
players, and I expect to be treated the

same way.

Sure, Mr. Sanderson. Your last year at
Western Pacific, you led your teammates

to an unbroken string of victories
leading to the championship game. You

won that game, though not by the margin
people expected.

Did you deliberately shave points?

Did you, Frankie?

Did you try just a little bit less in
that fourth quarter?

Mr. Sanderson, I... I won't use such
information against you, but I have to

the truth.

My sister... She practically put me
through school, Mr. Sanderson.

And when Alan... It's my brother -in
-law, Alan Bailey.

Made this really stupid bet.

I don't want to hear it anymore.

As far as I'm concerned, the subject is
closed, never to be opened again. I

don't want to hear it.

You keep your mind on the playoffs and
nothing else.

Go on.

Baby brother never could lie. Name what
you want and hear me clear, you cheap

punk. If ever I see... Mr.

Sanderson, you got it wrong.

Cash isn't doing me any good. You told
me you had information that could

my star athlete. Well, I agree you have
that information. Now, how much do you

want?

It's not cash, Mr. Sanderson.

I got in so deep, I made promises.

They asked if I could deliver Frankie.

I said yes.

You said you could deliver your own
brother -in -law to throw one of my

I was ready to say anything.

My skin unaligned.

Now I know I never could talk to Frankie
again about shaving points.

I figured talking to you would get the
same job done.

You're a heavy favorite to sweep the
playoffs.

So sweep, but give the crowd a run for
their money.

You get a little ahead, yank Frankie
from the game.

Tell your coach you want him saved as
much as possible.

Get out of here.

A phone call from me to the
commissioner.

And Frankie'd be suspended.

Out of the playoffs.

What about your franchise?

What about it?

All I have to do is say I reported a
player's past misconduct to you.

You're keeping it quiet.

You'd lose your franchise.

Hey, Tony.

Mr. Sanderson's on the phone for you.

Hello, Mr. Sanderson.

Tony, when you get through in the locker
room, go out and grab a bite, and then

come back here at, well,

and make it 8 o 'clock.

I need to have something.

Well, I can come over there now, Mr.
Kyle. I don't need you now.

You go have your dinner and be back here
exactly at 8 o 'clock.

Boy. Must have cleaned out your whole
office, Mr. Sanderson. No, just some

I've collected over the years.

Tony, I need a favor. I hate to ask it.

Hey, Mr.

Sanderson, come on.

Take me a hundred years to pay back the
favors I owe you.

You know where North Valley Canyon is?

About two miles this side of my place.

Oh, yeah, sure, I know.

Well, I want you to take that car there.

Drive it into the brush and lose it.
Must be dozens of cars rusting away

You think you can handle it?

Oh, it doesn't look that old, Mr.
Sanderson.

Was involved in a hit and run.

Oh, no injuries.

Just a scraped fender.

But my nephew, age 16, with just about
that many traffic violations, well, if

the police found that car, he'd be up
the creek.

Uh,

it's kids.

Take the far gate so the guard won't
recognize you.

And wipe all the fingerprints off after
you've ditched it.

And get rid of the plates.

Yes, sir.

The police asked if Alan ever
disappeared from home before.

And I had to admit he did.

Those times you took off for Las Vegas?

He'd be gone for days at a time.

But he would always call me.

Now it's three days and no phone calls
for him.

Any name given with the code?

None. And last night I'm positive that
that car driving past this house was

watching.

Oh, my.

You're not doing well at all, are you?

You know, you remind me of a teacher I
once had.

She had a theory that if you took two
identical plants and you fed them and

watered them both the same and you
whispered sweet nothings to one of them,

would do better than the other.

Oh, I also believe in plants being
living, feeling things.

Don't you, Mr. Jones?

Well, I'm kind of afraid to.

If I did that, I could never walk on the
grass again.

Hi, sis.

Hi, Sam.

Every time I'd see you, these plants
looked better.

Right here, I'm Barnaby Jones.

Jones? I hope you don't mind the
Frankie, but it feels kind of natural

following your career for so long. Well,
I'm always flattered when somebody uses

my first name, Mr. Jones.

Mr. Jones is the private investigator I
told you about, Frankie.

Oh, Alan's going to turn up, sis. He
always turns up.

Thank you very much, Mrs. Bailey. I
think that's all the information I need

right now.

Good luck on the playoffs, Frankie.
Thank you, Mr. Jones.

Stay here for dinner, hon?

No, there's no time.

So, is Alan been getting in deep again?

I mean, he is bringing his paycheck
home.

Let's just say I've been managing to pay
the bills.

Well, I got some things I gotta do.

As soon as the playoffs are over, we'll
spend some more time together.

Okay?

Okay, take care.

You can go right around to the patio,
Frankie.

He's only on the phone with reporters.

Okay, thanks, Tony. I'll just be a
couple of seconds.

Of course you can quote me. There's not
a single injury on the team. Not among

the starters, anyway.

Yeah?

Yeah?

No, no rumors, Bob, on that Miami news
service.

I'm having a late breakfast. Help
yourself.

You know how they like to stir things up
down Magnolia Way.

Yeah, you do the same.

Fourth call I've gotten, wondering
whether we're using our regular lineup.

You look tired.

Well, I haven't slept too much, Mr.
Sanderson, since we talked about that

college game. I told you to forget it.

Well, something started bothering me,
sir. You see, last Sunday, my brother

-law disappeared.

That the lame brain that talked you into
shaving those points?

Yeah, yeah, my sister's even hired a
private detective, a man named Jones, to

look for him.

Anyway, the thing that bothers me is the
fact... You're wondering how I got this

story, is that it?

It did seem like such a coincidence.

Listen, kid.

I never met your stupid brother -in
-law.

I've been meaning to talk to you about
that college game for a long time.

I'm probably making a big deal out of
nothing here, I know that.

That's Anderson.

Oh, hello, Dave.

This is Chadwick, Omaha Post. I'm going
to be quite a while.

Who said the franchise is for sale?

Where'd you get that fairy tale?

No, I'm not saying I didn't get an
offer. I'm just saying the Wildcats are

for sale.

You're attending bar, you got a rap for
selling to minors. Doing any better?

Listen, Mr. Jones, don't remind me of
that ripoff.

How can you tell age today?

He's six feet two, she's wearing a D
-cup.

Your stories always touch me, Leon.

Lot manager says last Sunday at four o
'clock was the last time he saw anything

of Alan Bailey.

He's lucky to see him on Sunday. But
with Bailey picking up a paycheck on

Saturday,

the police aren't running locally,
he's... Probably up in Las Vegas,

over some crap table.

Some people are looking for him. Las
Vegas isn't exactly a town that affords

privacy.

Any information on Bailey will be
appreciated.

Not enough?

Figured maybe I'd earn it now.

You see that convertible sitting at the
curb? Look, but don't let him see you.

One of Cy Landau's boys stopped in here
Monday looking for Alan Bailey. He's

been wanting that curb ever since.

Cy Landau.

Why is a big -time gambler looking for
Penny Andy Alan Bailey?

Bailey's maybe tin horn, but he is the
brother -in -law of the Wildcat star

player. You know, I don't know. Maybe it
means nothing, but I figure that earns

me the 20.

Beautiful day, huh?

Kind of reminds me of Central Park.

I used to be on the track team, PS
something or other.

Every morning for one hour, jogging.

Who are you? Cy Landau.

That's unimportant, Frankie.

Hey, listen, did your brother -in -law
talk to you?

I haven't seen him.

Yeah, yeah, that's the word around town
he skipped.

Well, it doesn't change things, Frankie.

You see, he said he had you in his
pocket, so we invested accordingly.

Look, I don't know what you're talking
about. I got another two miles to run

here. Kid, I don't like debates.

They give you nothing but a sore throat.

It's in your lap.

Your brother -in -law spoke for you.

He said he had you all tied up with a
nice pink ribbon.

Now look, fella. No, you look.

And you listen.

You're gonna bring this first game in
under six points, Frankie.

You're just a guy who can do it.

You proved it in your last year college
game, according to Alan Bailey.

Could do well.

Under six points, Frankie.

Be a hero. Win the game.

But over six?

Break a leg, kid.

That's an old show business expression.
It means good luck.

Tony Santos?

I'm Barnaby Jones.

You don't know me, but I was sitting
right about here one night six years ago

when you broke the year's record for
rebound.

I got hurt after that.

I know you're a friend of Frankie's, and
I thought maybe you could help me

answer a couple of questions. I'm
looking for his brother -in -law, Alan

I'm not sure I ever met him.

Well, maybe this would help you refresh
your memory.

Oh, sure.

But I didn't know he was Frankie's
brother -in -law.

I saw him with Mr. Sanderson last, I
think it was Sunday.

That's it, Sunday.

About what Sunday?

Well, practice.

Brakes at five. It was five o 'clock.

Tony, when you get the time, would you
take my car over to a station and have

the starter checked out?

Sure, I can do that right now, Mr.
Sanderson.

Oh, it was nice meeting you, Mr...
Jones. It was my pleasure, Tony.

Bill Sanderson, Mr. Jones.

Oh, howdy.

I heard Frankie mention that his sister
had hired you to locate Al Bailey.

Any luck?

Well, the manager of the car lot where
Bailey's been working said he hadn't

him since 4 o 'clock on Sunday, but I
just heard that you'd seen him since

Yeah, about 5 o 'clock.

He spent quite a few minutes in my
office trying to convince me that it

the smart thing for me to go in with him
by the car lot he works for.

Quite an operator, though, Mr. Bailey.

Well, then, I guess we can assume that
Bailey left here a little after 5.

He might have hung around after that,
but I wouldn't know about that.

It's like Frankie's having an off day.

It happens.

Anything else I can do for you?

No, not a thing.

Good luck on the playoffs.

Thank you.

The more this guy Landau sells, the more
scared I get.

The thing I can't get over is I don't
want to kill a guy like Landau. He's got

me in his pocket. Brother -in -law's a
jerk.

He knew he couldn't produce you to
square off things with Landau. That's

he's hiding out someplace.

There's something you should know.

I did get the information about your
last college game from your brother -in

-law. Al Bailey was in my office for
about five minutes last Sunday, using

knowledge he had against you to
blackmail me.

So I paid him off.

Mr. Sanderson, you shouldn't have done
that.

Sir, I would have rather gone to the
commissioner myself and finished this

thing once and for all. But your
teammates would also suffer. They

whole year to get into the playoffs, and
then you suspended?

I just wish I could come clean about all
this without hurting anybody.

This Barnaby Jones your sister hired, he
knows I saw your brother -in -law that

Sunday.

I told him Bailey was interested in a
business proposition, so if Jones asked

you, you might say you knew that was on
his mind.

I can't keep track of the number of
things on Alan Bailey's mind, Mr.

You leave Landon to me.

He's bluffing.

He wouldn't dare manhandle an athlete in
the public eye.

Mr. Jones.

Mind if I join you?

No, sit down.

It is a nice place.

Bet they got a picture of you somewhere
on the wall.

Well, it's right over the bar.

They put it up my rookie year.

Tony, the mystery deepens, as they say,
about the disappearance of Alan Bailey.

Seems he left the stadium about 8 o
'clock Sunday night.

That's according to the guard who was on
duty who saw his car leave then.

That's three hours after he left Mr.

Sanders' office. I was just wondering
whether you might not have seen him

somewhere around the stadium, walking,
talking to somebody during that time?

No, I don't remember.

What time did you leave the stadium?

It was after 8 o 'clock.

I remember because I had to help.

Mr. Sanderson moved his locker.

His locker?

Yeah, it was full of books and things.

He gave the locker to me.

I have a room by the garage at his
house.

You know, I just can't understand why
nobody would have seen Bailey during

three hours around the stadium.

Well, maybe he wasn't in the stadium.

Maybe he just left his car while he was
having dinner.

I do that sometimes.

Go out to Walkgate, have dinner, come
back from my car.

Because that way it saves time trying to
find parking space over here.

You know what, Tony? I never thought of
that.

Well, don't tell too many people.

I just wish I could come up with as good
an explanation of why he abandoned his

car in North Valley Canyon.

North Valley Canyon?

Yeah, I just came from there. The police
found it this afternoon. They were

going over it for fingerprints.

The police aren't sure of the town
building's car, though, right?

Oh, yeah, they're pretty sure of that,
all right. It's the same car he's been

driving off that car lot where he works.

A yellow Mustang.

Something wrong, Tony?

No.

Can I say something to upset you?

Please, just leave me alone.

You said it was your nephew's car.

Mr. Jones said it was Alan Bailey's car.

What else did Mr. Jones say?

Just it was Bailey's car.

They found it in North Valley Canyon.

Is that right?

The locker, Mr.

Sanderson.

I keep thinking how heavy it was when we
moved it from your office.

Of course it was heavy. It was full of
books.

Well, when I got back from the canyon
that night, I found

it by my door.

There was just a few books in it.

I told you you could have the locker and
the books.

Are you puzzled?

Well, I mean, carrying it from your
office, it was heavier than just a few

books could be. Tony, of course it was.
That's because I removed most of the

books to my library, and the books that
were left were yours.

Come on. Relax. Be comfortable. Have
your drink. Sit down.

Did you, uh... Did you tell Jones about
driving a sports car into the canyon?

No.

I got so upset.

All sorts of things going through my
mind.

Me hiding Bailey's car and everybody
looking for him. I know, Tony.

It's confusing and... But you just have
to trust me.

Was there anything else that was said
between you and Mr. Jones?

That was all.

Except they were looking for
fingerprints in the car.

You wiped off everything that you
touched, just as we discussed.

Maybe.

What does maybe mean? I don't remember.

Maybe I forgot.

I'm sorry, Mr.

Sanderson.

I'm sorry too, Tony.

You've been so good to me, Mr.
Sanderson.

I hate to make you mad at me.

I'm not mad at you, Tony.

I just wish there was a way out.

A way out?

I want you to think very carefully.

Is there any possibility that you did
wipe the fingerprints from the car?

The more I think of it, the more I know
I forgot.

Finish your drink.

Maybe we can have a game.

Well, his wallet's gone, wristwatch, not
a penny in his pocket. They even took

his shoes.

Why would Tony Sandoz be walking around
in this part of town?

I don't buy that mugging theory,
Lieutenant.

Give me something better.

I've got to think better.

You found Tony's fingerprints on
Bailey's car. That means he drove it

canyon brush.

Why?

That's what I'm going to try to find
out.

Guess I'll need a few lessons.

Just a matter of keeping your eye on the
ball.

Watch your forehand.

Mr. Sanderson?

I wonder if you'd mind if we had a
little talk?

Fran, why don't you go up to the house
and make yourself a cold drink, and I'll

be with you.

Make one for me. The usual? Yeah. Okay.

I didn't mean to break into your game.

Rang the front doorbell.

Well, I've given the help a few days
off. What can I do for you?

Well, I figured you'd be the logical one
to talk to about Tony Santos. He works

for you, lives here. I don't care to
discuss Tony Santos.

I was shocked by his death, but doubly
shocked by the fact the police are

to tie him to Al Bailey's disappearance.

Yes, that is a puzzler.

Mr. Sanderson, how do you account for
the narrow point spread as quoted by the

papers for tonight's game?

Gambling doesn't interest me. Well, have
you any idea why the local gamblers

would be betting that your team won't
look up to par tonight?

Not a one.

Getting back to Alan Bailey.

Jones.

I don't care to get back to him.

But I think everything is just starting
to fit together.

Bailey's disappearance, Santos' death.

Gamblers betting that your team won't do
too well tonight?

Maybe they've heard that Frankie Hampton
is not so sharp in the practice

sessions.

I do have a guest waiting.

Good luck in the game tonight.

Call it seven by game time.

Ask for eight, but you settle for a six
-point spread.

Right.

And find out if Milwaukee wants to lay
anything more off.

Yeah, go on then.

Hey, Bill, how are you? I was going to
call you later in the day. Have a cigar.

Have you got to any of my players?

I didn't think any of them could be
bought.

How can you be handling the flood of
money coming to the city on the narrow

spread that you're quoting?

Because we're coming to an
understanding.

You? Me.

You think I'd ever make any kind of deal
with you?

Perhaps not.

I really couldn't care, Bill.

You see, I happen to be in that lovely
position of having my cake and eating

too.

Join me?

No.

What's that supposed to mean?

Well, a certain somebody who happens to
be very close to your star player.

A brother -in -law, in fact, can testify
that our player did some point shaving

in his last college game.

You're reading me, I believe.

Oh, indeed, yes.

And how are you producing this, this
brother -in -law, with such testimony?

Well, I don't think it... Well, I'll be
damned.

Big Bill knows how to play rough.

You and your boys are going to take the
biggest bath in the history of the

playoffs.

But if I catch you close to any of my
players again, I'll show you how rough I

can play.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute. You're
getting all excited over nothing. You

didn't let me finish.

I was about to say, I don't think
producing Alan Bailey is really

This is just a copy, but the original's
locked in my safe.

Take a look at it. It's fascinating
stuff.

Complete sworn statement from Alan
Bailey on the points shaved by Frankie

Hampton in that college game.

We encouraged Bailey to come up with
some collateral on his IOU, so to speak.

Hampton can deny it.

I can have that report in the
commissioner's hands by 2 o 'clock this

and I'll make you a friendly wager.

Frankie Hampton will be the first to
admit his guilt and gladly take the

suspension.

What do you want?

How much is your franchise worth, Bill?

Eight? Nine million dollars?

I happen to know most of that's on
credit.

And I think some of your backers might
call their notes if they felt the

franchise was slipping in value.

I said, what do you want?

Frankie's the key.

Now, you find ways to make him
ineffectual tonight.

Everybody knows you called a game plan.
That coach of yours is a figurehead.

So you tell him to press so he builds up
the fouls. I mean, I could think of a

dozen ways to shave that game tonight.

There's going to be a problem.

I'd say you're a pretty good man at
disposing of problems.

Take Alan Bailey for one example.

I need a flat -out answer, Bill.

All right.

But there's going to be a problem.

Mutual.

Detective named Jones.

Barnaby Jones.

It's like getting hit in the gut.

Hearing about Tony.

Did you talk to him that Sunday night he
came in here for dinner?

Yeah, we always had a few words.

Like, what's new?

Like that.

Did he seem like his normal self?

Yeah, I guess.

Didn't seem worried like he was having
to do something he didn't want to do?

No, no.

He was just killing time after he ate.

Only thing he had on his mind was doing
something for Mr.

Sanderson.

Killing time.

He had to be in Mr. Sanders' office at
exactly 8 o 'clock.

Did he use those words, exactly 8 o
'clock?

Sure.

I remember because he kept asking me for
the time.

I'm sure you'll find all his things
stored in the garage.

I saw them moving everything from his
room this morning. But Mr. Sanderson can

give you more information.

He's at the sports pavilion.

First game's tonight.

I know where Mr. Sanderson is.

Should you be doing that? I mean, I'm
just a guest here, but do you have

permission from Mr. Sanderson?

No, I don't have permission.

There are some people who might say I
shouldn't be doing it.

Then why are you doing it?

Let's just say I lost something.

What'd you lose?

My temper.

Would I sound stupid if I asked what
this is all about?

Oh, that's a perfectly logical question.

Ah.

My many years in this business.

Got a hunch it's something that belonged
to a man I was looking for.

It's called blood.

Joe, making a last -minute change just
doesn't make sense. If we do what you

say, we could blow the game in the first
quarter. Trust my instincts, John.

We'll be upsetting their whole game
plan.

Okay.

Well, that sounds good for openers.

I just took a sample of cement dust from
that cement mixture in front of the

arena.

It doesn't look a thing like the sample
I took out of the equipment locker.

Well, does that throw out your theory
that Bill Thanderson is involved?

No. It just bolsters my theory that
nothing comes easy in this business.

What does Bailey have to say?

Well, she hasn't received any more phone
calls asking about her husband.

I think she's expecting the worst.

She's got every right to.

You going to the game?

She asked me to go with her. Frankie
always sends her two tickets.

What about you?

Well, I think I'll pay a call on Mr.

Sanderson in that fancy office of his.
Seems like a nice place to see the game,

and I might run into some interesting
conversation.

Weltman's got a step on Hampton, and he
lays it in.

Looks like the Wildcats are in for a
tough night, the way Weltman's taking

Hampton apart.

Wildcats ball, inbound to Mills.

Garbage goes to Sloan. He fires 20.

It's good, too, for the Wildcats.

All right.

That's Lance's ball.

Inbound to Weldon.

Coming up across the 10 -second line.

Ball is stolen by Hampton.

Oh, Jones, come on in.

Not including?

Oh, not at all.

Nice to have company during the game.

Sit down.

Let's see who's charged with the foul.

It's Hampton.

That's two fouls already on Hampton.

and he makes it.

Wildcats down by seven.

We don't need the sound. We can see the
close floor action on the set.

I see you're partial to wearing cowboy
boots.

Yeah, I find them more comfortable than
shoes.

Also, one has a sense of standing on
one's own two feet.

Never thought of boots in exactly that
way before.

Very fine leather.

Have any special way of cleaning them?
Brush and polish.

Let's skip the trivia, Jones, and level.

The police suspect Tony of performing
foul play on one Al Bailey, but I think

you suspect me.

You mind telling me why?

Oh, it's nice to get right to the point.

I have a theory. It has a few rough
edges.

Well, maybe I can help you roughen it up
a bit more.

Well, Bailey's car was seen leaving here
about 8 o 'clock last Sunday night.

Only Bailey wasn't driving it. Tony was.

The guard said he saw Bailey leave at
that time.

Oh, they saw the car leave, not Bailey.
There's a difference.

Are you suggesting that I somehow
conspired with Tony in killing Hal

Oh, no. No, I think Tony's too honest
for that. He'd be incapable of

Are you suggesting, then, that I use
Tony?

Wouldn't be too difficult.

My involvement.

You got a peg to hang that hat on?

That locker that you moved from this
office, I took the liberty of examining

in your garage. And finding bloodstains
and cement dust inside leads me to

believe that Mr. Bailey is reposing
somewhere under the concrete that's

laid out by the parking lot.

And I put him there?

Scoreboard says you're nine points
behind.

Is that where you, Mr. Sanderson?

Let me construct a case for you, Jones.

Supposing that Al Bailey was in my
office right here at 5 o 'clock.

We had an argument, and in a fit of
passion, I killed him. Although I'm hard

to explain what kind of passion Al
Bailey could arouse in me, but I killed

Now, the first thing is to get rid of
the body.

That's a stickler, but...

The

equipment locker.

The plot thickens, eh, Mr. Jones?

I couldn't do better myself.

So I wait until dark, and then Tony
helps me carry the body and the locker

to my station wagon.

I tell Tony to drive Bailey's car off
and dispose of it.

A little stickies there. Why would Tony
drive his car away without first

questioning who it belonged to? We may
never know that.

So, Tony leaves with Bailey's car, and
I'm left with Bailey's body.

But not for long.

I drove the wagon over to the cement
mixer.

I placed the body where concrete was
being poured and do some more pouring.

Are we of one mind on this?

Frankie is loosening up.

Your team's only two points behind now.

Doesn't seem to make you happy, Mr.
Sanderson.

Let's not continue this anymore, Jones.

If the body is buried here, there's only
one conclusion that can be reached.

Tony sneaked back, on foot, probably
after he saw me leave, and disposed of

body. Good theory, but I have a better
one.

You know that it's almost impossible to
get rid of cement dust from your shoes?

Meaning these boots, and I was wearing
them that day, contained traces of

dust?

Jones, you fascinate me.

Well, I was hoping I would.

I'd be surprised if they didn't contain
some small trace of cement dust, seeing

as how I was in the area a few days ago
watching the men work.

Oh, that's enough to blow my whole case.

Congratulations, Mr.

Sanderson. Your team has just tied the
score.

Jones, why don't you watch the rest of
the game downstairs?

Tell Coach Gorman to give Frankie
Hampton a rest. Play him in the next

Anything else I can do for you?

There's just one thing.

I spent an hour over at the National
Cement Lab.

And the chemist over there tells me that
the odds against two bags of cement

having identical contents are
astronomical.

Jones, you really make a living doing
this? The way the chemist explained it

me, bags of cement are like
fingerprints.

A million hands all looking alike doing
the same job, but each fingerprint is

just a little bit different.

Jones, you are boring me. If a police
lab matched chemically the bits of

cement... in those boots with the cement
that's cradling Bailey out by the

parking lot, that would prove that you
were there last Sunday night working

that cement.

Am I still boring you, Mr. Sanders?

It may well be that you are walking
around on the one piece of evidence that

would convict you of the murder.

Let's continue this conversation
elsewhere.

You're an impulsive man, Mr. Sanderson.

Through that door.

Open it.

Get your hands up.

You know, you're shooting with dice
belonging to the house, Sanderson.

Do I have a choice?

No. And now the police ought to have all
access to your office coverage.

That's not even a good bluff.

You know, your biggest mistake was in
not keeping that door up there locked.

Hold it.

You've run out of mistakes, Sanderson.

Your last one was forgetting to frisk
me.

I'd be willing to bet that's a lot of
nonsense.

Cement analysis.

It's surprising how often you've been
wrong.

Come on.

I suppose I knew all along this would be
the outcome.

Stay with her a while.

Of course.

I'm glad it's out in the open now, sis.

I've asked to talk to the commissioner,
and I'll just take what counts.

It's going to be okay.

I want to thank you, Mr. Jones.

I feel a lot better now.

About my own situation.

I'm finally relaxed.

My mind's free.

I think the way it goes is an easy
conscience is an easy mind.

Yes, sir.

Who's that by?

My mother.

She used to make up these things, tack
them up over the fireplace, and we had

memorize them. If we didn't memorize
them, we didn't get anything through.

Incidentally, Lieutenant, who won the
ballgame?

The Wildcats by eight.

How do you win these bets, Barnaby? With
a crystal ball?

This was an emotional bet.

I was rooting for Mr. Cy Landau to wind
up on the losing side of his point

spread.

Follow your instincts when they are
pure.

Another one of Mrs. Jones's over the
fireplace.

Well, Lieutenant, what fancy restaurant
are you going to take me to today?