All language subtitles for Barnaby Jones s03e24 Bond Of Fear.eng

Barnaby Jones.

Starring Buddy Epson.

Also starring Lee Merriweather. With
guest stars Sharon Acker,

Roger Perry, Ben Piazza,

Arlene Golonka.

Tonight's episode, Bond of Fear.

Well now, Florence, I don't for the life
of me know why anyone would want to

spend a fortune restoring this old tomb.

Why don't you and Harold just burn it
down and build a condominium?

The trouble with you, Edith, is you'd
turn Central Park into a parking lot and

call it progress.

Florence, I've been wondering how you're
going to fit a swimming pool into that

space out there by the patio. It looks
too small for a pool.

The contractor doesn't think so, Dr.
Parker.

We'll just have to move things around a
little.

I'm afraid the garden will have to go.

Petty.

Another drink?

No, thank you.

Where's Harold, anyway? Is he working
late at the office again?

Not you too, Russ.

Half the catty women here have asked the
same question.

I'm sorry.

It must be Harold now. Forgive me.

You're late.

Did you forget we were having guests?

Had a lot of work to catch up on and I
forgot the time.

Don't you think I know what's been going
on?

Don't you think all our friends and
neighbors, everyone in the village

Stop being paranoid, Florence.

So very smug, aren't you?

So sure of yourself.

If it wasn't for Laurie, I'd have
divorced you years ago.

Oh, it's Laurie, is it?

It's not this house.

Or the expensive clothes.

Or all the rest of the things my money
can buy. You're hanging on because of

Laurie.

You're a damn martyr, aren't you?

No!

Daddy, don't.

Please don't hit her.

Please.

Laurie may be my stepdaughter, Harold,
but I'll do anything a natural mother

would do to protect her.

Anything.

Laurie. I hate him.

I wish he was dead. I hate him so much.

No matter what problems your father and
I have, remember, he's still your

father. I mean it.

Come on.

There's a party, remember?

You fix your face, and I'm going to get
out of this dress, and I'll meet you

downstairs.

Everything's going to be all right.

I promise.

Thank you.

Harvey? Hi, Russ.

I got us a table inside the restaurant.

There's a kind of day that makes you
want to work up an appetite first.

Let's take a walk.

Fine.

Thanks for coming, Clark.

All right.

Almighty didn't make just one garden of
Eden. He kept right on making them.

Mighty pretty.

You know, after the way you sounded on
the phone, I half expected you to call

back and tell me that you changed your
mind about taking the case.

Oh, I got curious.

I began to wonder why Florence Armstrong
would want to stir up another

investigation of her husband's death.

Well, let me explain something to you. I
haven't told her yet that I called you.

Wait a minute.

Isn't Florence Armstrong your client?

And the coroner's jury absolved her of
any guilt in her husband's death?

For lack of evidence.

But people hear about it, they've got it
in their heads that Florence is guilty,

no matter what the coroner's jury said.

Well, that's nothing unusual.

There are always some people who doubt a
jury's verdict.

But why does their own lawyer doubt it?

I don't.

It was an accident.

She was in a room changing her dress.

She heard Harold scream. She riced out.

She got there just as the body landed at
the bottom of the stairs.

Well, if you believe that, and the
coroner's jury believes it, why start a

investigation?

For Florence's sake, I guess.

Or for mine.

See, ever since it happened, she
retreated into a shell.

For the past three weeks, she's refused
to see anybody.

Including me.

That sounds like more than a lawyer
-client relationship.

Yeah, you're right.

I'm in love with her.

If it wasn't for her stepdaughter, Lori,
she'd have left Harold a long time ago.

You sure?

Florence is going to want me hanging
around, raking over old cold.

You may get burned in the process.

You sure you want me to do that? I'm not
sure of anything, except that if you

can't lay all these doubts and
suspicions to rest, I'm afraid I've lost

Russ, uh...

You've heard of what to say about
letting sleeping dogs lie?

That's a chance I'll have to take.

All right.

See what I can do.

Anybody home?

You must be Laurie.

Is Armstrong home?

Where she wants to be.

That's the Petrella Road.

You know the Petrella?

Tried to raid something down in L .A.,
but I didn't have near the luck you seem

to be having.

Well, try Rusty Nails.

Rusty Nails?

Yeah, it's the iron. You bury the nails
in among the roots, and the iron makes

them grow healthy.

Rusty Nails.

I'll have to remember that.

Russ Madden told me a private detective
might be dropping by. It's you, right?

Why don't you be Jones?

I'm Eugene.

Very nice to meet you.

Did Russ also tell you why I'm here?

I know what folks are saying about Mrs.
Armstrong, if that's what you mean.

Malicious gossip, that's what it is. And
I sure hope you can put a stop to it,

Mr. Jones.

Why do you suppose people are being so
malicious?

Kind of makes you wonder whether there's
any fire under all that smoke.

I guess there are reasons for people
thinking the way they do, but that

mean Mrs. Armstrong did anything about
it.

About what?

Oh, Harold and all those women he was
playing around with.

Does Armstrong do?

I'm not sure, but this last tramp he was
seeing would have been pretty hard to

hide, even for Mrs. Armstrong.

How's that?

Well, she lives right here in the
village.

Nora Frazier, a waitress at the village
roadhouse.

Eugene!

Uh -oh, I forgot I was supposed to tell
you no visitors allowed.

I'm in for it now.

Uh,

rusty nails.

Mind if we have a little talk?

Just wait a minute, Mrs. Armstrong.

Since you wouldn't answer my calls, this
is as good a place as any to settle our

account.

Now, you just hold it a minute, Mrs.
Armstrong.

We're going to have this out here and
now.

Nora, get away from me. No, we're going
to talk first.

Nora, I'm warning you. You leave me
alone.

Or you'll kill me like you killed
Harold.

You won't get away with it.

Nora.

Would that be Nora Frazier?

Yes. I'm Barnaby Jones, private
investigator.

I'm looking into Harold Armstrong's
accident.

I guess you could call it an accident if
you called World War II an accident.

I gather that's the way you felt I
overheard your conversation with Mrs.

Armstrong a few minutes ago.

You mind telling me why?

Why don't you ask her, Mr. Jones?

She know that you and her husband had
been seeing each other?

What business is that of yours?

Well, as I say, I've been looking into
the accident. I wanted to get a fully

rounded picture of what Harold Armstrong
was like.

Well, he was a selfish, no -good rat.
That's what he was like.

I take it you and he had a rocky time of
it.

It wasn't so bad.

Except maybe towards the end.

Finally, he said we shouldn't see each
other anymore.

I thought he'd cool off by the morning,
but I bet he was dead.

He broke off with you the night that he
died?

I'm just trying to get the picture.

Look, I know what you're thinking, Mr.
Jones, but as it happens, Mrs. Armstrong

forgot to put my name on the guesses for
her party that evening.

Well, it's a big house, and there are a
lot of ways to get in, even if somebody

wasn't invited.

Are you saying that I killed him?

I'm sorry if I upset you.

You mustn't pay too much attention to a
detective thinking out loud.

Goodbye, Mr. Jones.

Barnaby?

That sure ain't no way to make friends.

Hello, Harley.

Barnaby, I thought you big city
detectives got what you wanted out of

with a little more finesse.

Well, Harley, you know how it is some
days. You have to shake the shaker a

little harder to get the pepper out. How
you been?

Not too bad.

Until I heard that Russ Madden was
calling in outside help.

Well, outside doesn't mean better.

I guess you still do have a little bit
of that finesse left in you.

Say, do you mind if I have a look at
your Harold Armstrong file?

Okay, Barnaby.

Coincidence, isn't it?

What?

Harold Armstrong's first wife, Alice.

She died in an accident, too.

Poor Alice.

Parents arranged the marriage.

She never did hit it off with Harold.

Ended up for Alice out there on the
lake.

Never did find her body, did they?

No. She just took a sailboat out one day
and never came back.

They dragged the lake for nearly a week
and finally gave it up.

When did Florence arrive on the scene?

Oh, she was always around. A childhood
sweetheart, you might say.

So, true love finally trapped.

Florence got her man.

Four months after Alice disappeared.

Yeah. Folks around here figured Hal
didn't want Laurie growing up without a

woman around the house.

But outside the house, he appears to
have had another woman who kept him

busy. Nora?

Nora was nothing.

Now, you should have seen the girl he
had before Nora.

She was an interior decorator. Her name
was Maureen Saunders. She lived here in

the village?

No, she came from L .A.

She came up about, oh, eight months ago
when they were first thinking of redoing

the house.

Now, Maureen was a looker.

There's one thing that puzzles me about
the autopsy report.

The coroner doesn't explain those cuts
in Harold's hand.

And nowhere have I been able to find any
reference to this cut in the bathroom.

Well, the coroner figured that the cuts
were made by the broken pieces of the

vase when Harold fell down the stairs.

And anyway, Harold died of a broken
neck, not by some superficial cuts.

Mind if I keep this for a while?

Well, seeing as you represent the family
through Russ Madden, I guess it'd be

okay.

You have to sign a release form. I'll
get you one.

Operator, I'd like to make a collect
call to Los Angeles.

Barnaby Jones' office. May I help?

Oh, yes, operator. I'll accept the
charges.

Barnaby, how's all that beautiful, clear
air up there?

Why don't you drive up here and take a
look for yourself?

You could be here in a couple of hours.

Hey, you were the slave driver that said
I had to stay home and do the research

on the Van Owen case, remember?

I ought to get out of that smog for a
little while. Might do you some good.

Oh, all right.

Yeah. Well, since you're coming up... I
knew you had an ulterior motive.

Bring my laboratory stuff, and I want
you to check into the present

of an interior decorator named Maureen
Saunders.

As long as I'm coming, huh?

Please, Miss Frederick, go away. Don't
cause any trouble.

Trouble is what she'll get if she
doesn't come up with what Harold

It's no use. She's not home.

Oh, yes, she is.

Mrs. Armstrong, answer me!

How dare you barge in this way?

Get out.

Not before I get what's mine.

Harold promised

me a lot of things, but I got nothing.

You made sure of that, all right.

But I'm not going to lose the house that
he promised to buy me.

I don't know anything about any house.

All you have to do is check with the
bank.

Harold asked for the escrow papers to be
drawn up, and he was just about to make

a deposit.

I'm afraid there was no mention of it in
his will.

Well, maybe not.

But then again, there are a lot of
things Harold forgot to mention.

Like how you killed the first Mrs.
Armstrong.

Are you out of your mind?

What's the matter? Afraid Laurie might
hear that her stepmother murdered her

into her life? That's a lie.

Twice a murderer? Stop it.

Oh, Harold told me all about Alice, all
right.

How he saw her take the sailboat out on
the lake the day she disappeared.

A few minutes later, while he was
driving over the hill towards home, he

back and saw someone taking the
speedboat from the private pier.

A blonde -haired woman.

dressed in a cream -colored dress.

The kind you always wear.

I was nowhere near the lake that day.

Oh, yes, that's what you told Harold, so
he didn't tell the police.

Because he needed you, he wanted to
believe you.

That's enough.

You've no way of proving your lies, so
get out.

You know, considering Harold's
mysterious accident together with his

Alice's death, well, it'll be pretty
good reading.

If you forced me to give it to the
papers.

No, I don't have to prove it.

Just see that it's... All

right.

I'll talk to my lawyer first thing in
the morning.

But I want you to know one thing.

I'm not doing it for myself.

For Laurie.

What's your house is paid for?

What assurance do I have that you won't
try blackmail again?

You'll just have to trust me, won't you?

Oh, I'm sorry it took me so long to find
you, but I swear every camper,

motorbike, and pogo stick in Los Angeles
is on the road this weekend.

Oh, boy, but you can't blame them.

Beautiful country.

Maybe we ought to come up here more
often, take advantage of it.

I don't know.

Breathing all this clean air might be
habit for me.

Did you find out anything about that
interior decorator, Maureen Saunders?

She's missing.

Missing? Mm -hmm.

a picture of her from Lieutenant Biddle.

He said that her mother filed a missing
persons report on her eight months ago.

Harold seems to have had a thing about
blondes. Take a look at that and see

you make of it.

Think that cut was made by a jagged,
broken piece of lace?

Too clean a cut.

Nice, more likely.

Want to try another assault on the
castle, Mr. Jones?

I have an invitation this time, Mr.
Madden.

Inside. Say, would you like another try
at growing the Petrella? I can give you

a cutting.

That's very thoughtful of you.

I may take you up on that before I
leave.

Survey stake.

Thinking of enlarging your garden?

That'd be nice.

Actually, Mrs. Armstrong was thinking of
putting in a swimming pool.

You're ashamed to lose the garden.

I'm not gonna lose it after all plans
have changed since the accident. Oh You

had no right right The very least you
could have done would come to me and ask

if I want to have a detective snooping
around You would have said no darn

I would have said no right We're even
now if you had asked me about paying a

certain debt to Nora Frazier who nobody
seems to know anything about I would

have said no There's no claim on the
estate.

I don't want to argue about it anymore.

I'm the executor of the estate I want
you to see that Noah's house is paid

Please?

Mr. Jones is here.

Barnaby?

Oh, hello, Russ.

This is Florence Armstrong.

Barnaby Jones.

How do you do, Mrs. Armstrong?

Russ has told me why you're here, Mr.
Jones.

I've told him I don't need your help.

Florence, now just listen to me. Look, I
don't care if people think I'm some

kind of Lucretia Borgia.

I just want to be left alone.

Well, the truth is, Mrs. Armstrong, that
when Russ approached me to look into

your husband's accident, I wasn't too
keen about the idea.

But from what I've learned so far, that
accident just could have been made to

happen.

What have you learned?

Well, when someone's approaching you
with a knife... A knife?

It's just a theory, but what happens is
you're backing away and someone's

slashing at you. You may sustain cuts in
your hand or maybe even one of the

robes you're wearing.

Are you saying someone was trying to
attack Harold when he fell down the

Well, that's one explanation for the
cuts.

It's ridiculous.

I came from my room only a moment later.

There was no one else there.

A moment.

Five seconds?

Ten seconds?

I didn't use a stopwatch, Mr. Jones.

Well, let's split the difference. Seven
seconds.

In that length of time, someone could
have easily gotten into one of the

bedrooms before you or your guests
arrived on the scene?

It couldn't have happened that way.

It was an accident.

All Mr. Jones is saying is that it's
possible.

It was an accident.

Look, Barnaby, the police made a
thorough search of this place. There was

knife found.

In the first place, the police weren't
searching for a knife.

And in the second place, if my father
was murdered, then the killer wouldn't

stupid enough to leave a murder weapon
lying around.

Isn't that so, Mr. Jones?

Absolutely correct, Laurie.

Darling?

Go back inside.

I'm not a child.

I have a right to take part in this
discussion.

This discussion is over, as far as I'm
concerned.

Goodbye, Mr. Jones.

Well, you see why people think the way
they do.

She acts like she's got something to
hide.

How can anything be so beautiful, so
ugly at the same time?

You're luckier than most young girls.

Do you know that, Laurie?

Am I?

Well, most, when they lose their mother,
aren't fortunate enough to find another

like Florence to take their place.

Hello, you two.

Well, what's on the agenda for today?

For me, it's fishing. Anybody want to
come along?

Not me.

I don't think I'm quite ready to make my
peace with the lake yet.

You catch them and I'll cook them. Okay?

Okay. See you later.

Thinking about your mother?

Uh -huh.

Also about the way I behaved before,
when that detective was at the house.

All is forgiven.

I love you very much, Florence.

I just thought you needed some help,
that's all.

I didn't think I was doing so badly all
by myself.

Why did you think I needed help?

Well, you know.

No, I'm not so sure I do know.

The knife.

What knife Laurie the one you hidden
back of you on the stairs that night.

I Certainly hope you got rid of it where
no one will ever find it.

Oh The swimming meet I forgot the
school's holding the swimming meet this

morning

No,

Frazier, yes, she works here

But you missed a work shift this morning
Firehouse nobody there figures Well, we

took off with some dude last night after
work.

It's your station wagon still here
Thanks

That might be why she had to leave her
car here overnight.

Dropped them and couldn't find them in
the dark. Should have been able to find

them there, even in the dark.

Looks like blood.

Pardon me.

Is it pre -11?

Woman's shoe print.

The heel dug pretty deep.

Could be a heavy woman.

Or a woman carrying something heavy.

Barnaby, there's some fire tracks up
here.

Looks like there was a truck in here, a
small truck.

Had to be four -wheel drive in order to
get over that hill.

What do you make of all that?

Well, it's a woman's foot branch with a
deep heel all the way to here.

And then it lightened as if she had
dumped a load in the truck and came

here to get in the driver's seat and
take off.

I think it was Nora Frazier.

You got a little camera with you?

Yep, right here.

Why don't you start taking some
pictures?

What's that?

Tough to blonde hair.

I look super, don't I?

Just like you.

I bet if we walked down the street
together, nobody could tell us apart.

Oh, Lori.

My poor, poor darling.

All right.

What's happening? What are all these
stakes for?

For the new swimming pool. What else?

Why?

Florence told me my garden would be left
alone.

Well, I've decided we're going to put
the pool in after all.

You've decided?

Oh, Eugene, you always get your way with
Florence.

From now on, I'm going to have something
to say about what goes on around here,

too. We'll see about that.

All right, as soon as I get back to the
office, I'll try and contact Nora and

tell her that the deed to her house is
ready. Florence, you know how much work

put into that garden, do you? Yes, yes,
Eugene, just a moment.

Ross, as soon as you get to the office,
will you try to contact Nora?

I just said that.

Oh, yes.

Thank you.

I'll call you.

Florence, you're not really going to let
him dig up my garden, are you?

What can I do?

Laurie refuses to swim in the lake, and
you know how much she loves to swim.

You promised.

All I promised was that we'd try to fit
the pool in without disturbing the

garden. Now, the contractor says it
can't be done.

You'll just have to move the garden
somewhere else on the grounds.

That's not so tragic, is it?

What's tragic is you letting that girl
have her way around here all the time.

There are other people around here who
have rights, too.

Listen,

if you're thinking of changing your
hairstyle, don't. I'd rather like it the

it is.

When you were out getting pictures of
those tire tracks developed, I thought

that I'd like to have a closer look at
this hair under the microscope.

It's synthetic fiber.

From a wig?

Blonde wig.

Nora Fraser's?

No, that's the reason I went in to talk
to the hairdresser.

She says that Nora Fraser doesn't
possess a wig and never did.

She's too proud of her own hair to cover
it with a wig.

Well, do you think there were two women
out on that dirt road last night?

It didn't look that way. How'd you make
out with the tire tracks?

Well, the tracks were made by some sort
of specialty tire.

But the local dealers around here don't
handle them. They can only be purchased

through a mail order house.

Is there one in town?

We're on our way there.

Mr. Jordan?

They told me that you're the man to see
if someone was interested in buying a

set of tires that would make these
tracks.

Do you recognize them?

Oh, sure.

Don't sell too many sets like them,
though. They're pretty expensive.

Do you remember selling a set to anyone?

Oh, the Stringer boys got a set when
they first came on the market about

years ago.

That and the set I sold to Harold
Armstrong. That's about it.

When did Mr. Armstrong buy his?

About three months ago for that four
-wheel drive of his.

You have a record of the transaction?

If I don't, I'm getting myself a new
accountant.

Hold on a minute.

With all the dirt and dust the men will
stir up digging the swimming pool, why

don't we just hop in the car and drive
to L .A. for a couple of weeks?

Mom?

Tires come from Sweden.

Harold was always buying foreign.

Mr. Jordan, on this sales slip there's
another item. A blonde wig, which

according to the notation was paid for
in cash.

Now, why didn't Harold Armstrong sign
for the wig just as he did for the

First place, that's not Harold's
signature.

That's not an H, that's an E for Eugene.

He signed for the tires. I made the
notation about the cash transaction on

wig later on.

Eugene Armstrong.

Caretaker.

They related?

He was Harold's cousin.

Well, thank you very much, Mr. Jordan.

Pleasure.

Better get the sheriff.

I'm going out to the Armstrong place
now. Right.

It's Eugene.

He's got a knife. And he's dressing...
Get out of here. Go on, run.

Eugene.

You don't want to hurt anyone.

Put down that knife.

No.

Eugene.

I only want to help you.

I'm your friend.

We...

Used to play.

Right here.

Yes, Gene, I remember.

We were just children then.

We used to play dress up.

Harold wore his father's hat.

He played the minister.

You wore his daddy's coat.

And you played me.

You wore that old white dress.

And I'll pronounce you man and wife.

Florence and Eugene.

Eugene and Florence were married.

That was just a game.

No.

Eugene loved Florence.

Oh. She was so beautiful.

He's out there with Eugene.

He's got a knife.

Wait for the sheriff.

Harold was so mean to Florence, that's
why he had to die.

You killed Harold?

Mm -hmm.

Harold was always making Florence cry,
so I waited for him in the closet and...

As soon as I got away from that knife of
yours, he fell down the stairs.

Is that why you killed Nora and Maureen?

Because they made Florence cry?

Yes. They were cheap.

No good.

What about Harold's first wife, Alice?

You killed her too, didn't you?

She was mean.

She tried to evict Eugene from his
cottage.

Eugene was part of the family too.

Where is she, Eugene?

In the garden?

Is that the reason you don't want anyone
to dig it up?

Yes, they're all there.

Like the rusty nails.

Nobody's going to dig up my garden.

Lawrence?

Yes, Eugene?

You're going to be all right now, son.

It's all over now.

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