All language subtitles for Barnaby Jones s05e12 The Deadly Charade.eng

Barnaby Jones, a Quinn Martin
production, starring Buddy Epson.

Also starring Lee Merriweather, Mark
Schera, with

guest stars David Hedison, Joshua
Bryant,

John McLean, Marla Adams.

Tonight's episode.

The Deadly Charade.

or if you hadn't caused me a perfectly
good hairdo horsing around on that boat.

Sandra, I plead innocent.

That wave hit the boat when my back was
turned. Is that right, Rob? Oh, sure,

Paul. That was a wave and not your three
left feet that caused our boat to sink.

There were no waves. We all came far
tonight.

Rob, you want one?

Thanks,

Betty.

one of these back to Sandra. Oh, let me.
Maybe I can help her with her hair.

Okay.

Your cousin Sandra is playing a sly
little old matchmaker, isn't she?

Having Betty and you as houseguests at
the same time.

Just a very happy coincidence.

Sandy, I've got your drink out here.

Mmm, thanks.

Oh, that's nice.

I'm admiring your oriental figurine. Is
it new?

always find something rare for me in
that antique shop of his whenever he

for a visit. It's called Goddess of
Sleep.

Oh, I hope it works because nothing I've
been taking does.

You having trouble with Harry still?

Mm -hmm.

No chance of a reconciliation?

No.

I think this time divorce is the only
solution.

Oh, honey, I'm sorry.

Paul even drove up to the cabin this
morning to try and patch things up and

Harry's just about to we lost the place.

Oh Boy, what am I gonna do about this
mop?

Oh, hey, don't use their hot rollers to
take too long. Use your blow -dryer

Okay, I'll help you say it later. Would
you? Yeah, thanks Betty. Hurry they're

waiting for you. All right Hi,

I think I'll take a quick shower and
freshen up a bit myself

How's Sandra doing?

She'll be joining us shortly. Good.

And then the wind came up and we turned
downwind.

Betty?

Out there.

Betty,

is she... She's dead.

Get an ambulance.

I see somebody who could use a couple
hours sleep.

When did your plane get in?

An hour ago.

They gave me your message along with one
from California Meridian Insurance.

Sandra Lassiter carried a big policy.

They want a report.

I know, Betty.

I know you and Sandra go back a long
way.

It's so hard to believe she's gone.

I just got a sketchy report.

She was shot by a burglar who then shot
Paul Nugent.

It's about all anybody has.

Paul heard something. He went into her
room.

She was fighting with a man in a red ski
mask.

And Paul went after him and manshot him.
How's Paul?

Oh, not so bad. He was just grazed along
this ribcage.

He's insisting on being released from
the hospital. I said I'd...

Go down and pick him up around ten.

Yeah, why don't you go ahead?

The deputies will fill me in.

Glad you're here.

Oh, we got an excellent print, Sheriff.

Oh, good, Abrams.

Take it to the lab, huh? Yes, sir.

Barnaby!

You called out on this case?

Well, the company wanted me to make a
routine investigation and report.

Well, there's nothing routine around
here.

Burglary with a house full of guests
milling around.

An estranged husband with a story that
he's been driving around all night.

Doesn't know where.

Harry Lasseter can't account for his
whereabouts? I just got back from

with him up at his cabin.

He says he was out hanging one on, to
use his words.

We'll see about that.

Do you mind if I ask him a few
questions?

Not at all.

Keep in touch, partner. Right.

Don't you think you should have spent at
least one day in the hospital? I hate

hospitals. Anyway, they're not doing any
more for me than the bandage I'm

wearing.

What about the burglar?

Have the police come up with any leads
yet?

No, no, not yet. Are you sure you should
be walking around like this? Yeah, my

side's a little stiff, but the doctor
says moving around is the best thing I

do for it. Let me get this for you.

Here you go. Easy.

Thanks.

How's Harry taking it all?

I don't know. Up until I left the house,
he was nowhere to be found.

Paul.

Poor Harry.

First, the loss of their two children in
that awful auto accident.

No, Sandra.

I know.

Harry wasn't at his cabin?

No, no.

The sheriff had a deputy out there since
last night waiting for him, but he

never showed up.

That's funny. I was with him for about
an hour yesterday morning.

He was deep inside an article he was
writing. He swore he wasn't going to

his cabin until he met that magazine
deadline.

Well, maybe he finished it.

Or...

Maybe Harry changed his mind.

I think we met in passing earlier this
year at the Park Gun Club, Mr. Jones.

I bet he was with you.

Yes, I think you were qualifying for the
pistol team.

I became a fan of yours reading your
column in the sports quarterly.

A new fan I can always use.

You understand, Mr. Lasseter, that
although I turn in my reports to the

insurance company, they could wind up in
any court record.

In other words, watch what I say to you.
I'm three steps ahead, Mr. Jones.

The sheriff did more than hint that my
wife had wealth and a divorce might be

leaving me with financial problems.

Did the sheriff say anything about the
burglary, that it was a very clumsy job,

making it appear the burglar was more
interested in murder than robbery?

I don't buy it. My wife had no enemies.
That includes me.

I miss her.

Almost as much as I miss our kids.

It was after their death five years ago
that things started to get sour between

us.

Something about my shoe interest you,
Jones? I think you'll find a duplicate

this tread in the flower garden outside
of the bedroom at the beach house.

I used to live there, remember?

Sheriff Coyle says you're having some
trouble accounting for your time last

night. Maybe I feel I don't have to
account for my time.

If so happens, I finished my article
early, about six, and went for a drive.

You remember where you drove?

I'd been drinking all day while I was
writing. I was half stoned, somewhere up

the coast.

The critical time would be 8 .30. That's
when your wife was shot.

I was sleeping it off on a beach by
then.

I can't prove it, but the sheriff will
have to live with it. You happen to

recall which beach?

Uh, yeah, of course.

It was just above Dunes Point.

Harry, listen, I'm not due to return
home for a few more days, and maybe I

should get a room at a hotel.

Don't be silly, Paul. Stay as long as
you want.

I'll get it.

Oh, hi, I'm Barnaby Jones. Is Mr.
Lasseter home? Oh, yes, he's right

Thank you. I'm Paul Nugent.

Oh, how are your ribs?

Much better, thanks. Good.

Back so soon, Mr. Jones?

I came by to give you a chance to
correct your story, that you were

the beach above Dune Point, or were you
actually wearing scuba gear at the time?

Ah, I forgot to tie it.

All right, I'm a lousy liar.

I was with a girl last night.

Stupid of me lying.

I was ashamed, I guess, hearing Sandra
was dead.

Can this girl establish her exact
whereabouts at 8 .30?

It was at the Blue Surf Motel.

Signed in about 7 .30, using the name
Smith.

What's the girl's name and where does
she live?

I only know her first name.

Shelly. I never saw her before. Never
expected to see her again.

I am wondering if you are aware, Mr.
Lassiter, that first of all with your

and then your general vagueness, you're
creating a difficulty for yourself.

Difficulty?

Oh, the insurance.

I keep forgetting that your company will
save a million dollars if I'm guilty of

my wife's murder.

Come on, Harry.

I'm sure no one's accusing you of
anything.

Where did you meet the girl? I don't
know. I was pretty wiped out from

I remember hitting some of the South
Beach bars and then meeting her in one.

Tall, blonde, good build.

Do you remember the name of the bar?

One of those places where the beach kids
hang out. The Beads and Sandal Punch.

Find her Jones.

She'll clear this up

Hello.

Good morning, Mr. Jones.

My associate and I checked out that
motel. There's nothing much there in

favor except you did sign in at 7 .30.

However, after that, you weren't seen or
heard of much.

Didn't anybody see a girl with me? Nope.

They're beginning to check out the bars
along South Beach now. I was hoping that

your head would be clear. You might be
able to give us some help. Yeah, I

a guitarist.

I remember throwing him some money.

How about a place called The Hangout?
That do anything to you? The Hangout?

I'm not sure.

They got a guitarist. The bartender's
out now. We're going to check back.

The bartender might know this, Shelly. I
vaguely recall her kidding somebody

behind the bar.

There you go.

What I meant to say before is that on a
busy night, you stop looking at faces.

What about a girl named Shelly? You ever
heard her name mentioned in here? No.

Tall, blonde, good figure?

You just described half my customers.

How about him?

Very drunk.

Can't seem to remember much except
giving a guitar player some money.

The tipper.

Charlie got a tent.

Charlie's got his strings out there.

And he left another ten when he paid his
bill. To him, I noticed.

You remember something about the girl
kidding with the bartender?

Uh... Hey, wait a minute. I got it now.

The girl with this guy... Now, I did
think she was calling me over, but she

joking with this Alma something or other
who was sitting right where you are now

and bending my ear, right?

So Alma would know the girl we're
looking for?

Yeah, I guess, but I don't know where
Alma lives, though.

She's a painter.

This place was a god -awful two -headed
69 thing.

Hang up.

Yeah.

Said your name was Joan?

Eddie.

Yep. Just a minute, I'm coming.

Barnaby, I just got a call from Sheriff
Coyle.

He wondered if you might be able to meet
him up at the Park Gun Club.

Call the sheriff back and tell him I'll
meet him there within the hour.

Right -o.

If she sells any pictures, I want you to
check the art places on Beach Road here

and see if they know her. Right.

I would say that outside of the pistol
teams who like to measure their own

powder, very few of the shooters reload
their own ammo.

Well, this bullet was used in the murder
weapon, a reload.

And the boys came up from the lab this
morning, and they say that this reload

equipment was used to make the
cartridges in the gun that killed Sandra

Lassiter. Well, I know that Harry
Lasseter does his own reloading. He's

articles about it. But what bothers me
is that you would hang your hat on this

kind of evidence.

Whoever it was that killed Sandra could
have stolen or borrowed a box of reloads

from anybody on the firing line.

Barnaby, I'm hanging my hat on Harry
Lasseter's footprints in the garden.

On a man who has red ski masks.

A man who profits greatly from his
wife's death. A man who can't account

time. and now a man who reloads his own
ammunition.

Harry Lasseter is not a stupid man. If
he wanted to kill his wife, you'd think

he'd have been this crude.

Barnaby, have you ever seen him drunk?

I've had him in the tank on two
occasions.

You're saying that he got drunk and
planned to kill his wife on the spur of

moment? What better way to account for
his clumsiness?

Well, now that would do Picasso justice.

You've just made my day.

Well, you sure would be making mine if
you told me your name was Alma.

Bingo. Good.

What is this, a new kind of hobby?
You're seeing how many Almas you can

along the beach?

I tell you, it took me hours to find
that little place you work, you know,

then when I found that, they told me
you'd be here. But actually, I'm looking

for a friend of yours named Shelly.

You a PD?

No, no, no, nothing like that. I work
for a private... Sorry.

I work for a private investigating
agency, part -time, and I'm working my

through law school.

What kind of trouble is she in?

Well, none we know of.

Our agency would just like to talk to
her.

What if she doesn't want to talk to you?

I tell you what.

Why don't you leave it up to Shelly?

Give her this, and tell her that one
phone call to us is worth 20 bucks. Now,

that's for openers.

Now, I'm sure that our client would come
up with a nice big check for an

interview, okay?

Tell her that you missed a spot right
there.

Well, friend or foe, it's up for you to
decide.

But it's worth 20 bucks and a lot more
for an interview.

So, whatever.

Hey, thanks, Elma. Yeah, sure.

Hi. We have a mutual friend, Alma.

Oh, yeah.

Well, actually, a very recent
friendship.

She gave you our business card.

I'm Barnaby Jones.

I was supposed to call you.

As a matter of fact, I saw Alma pass the
card to you, and being a descendant of

Sherlock Holmes, I naturally deduced a
few deductions.

Alma said there'd be some money in
talking to you.

Oh, I wouldn't quibble about the price
if you can help us.

Non -quibblers are my kind of people.

Come on in, Mr. Jones.

Well,

I never did get any merit badges for
neatness. Oh, no, no. It's cozy.

Now, Shelly, I'll tell you what this is
all about.

Do you remember Harry Lasseter?

Who? Well, you wouldn't know him by that
name.

Smith.

At least you signed the motel register
that way.

No, no, no, wait a minute. No hassles
here.

All we're talking about is a divorce
case.

Oh.

So that's the thing, huh? And all we
want from you is an informal statement.

Now, you were with this Smith at the
Blue Surf Motel on Tuesday night.

I guess you'd find out about it anyway.

And between the hours of 7 and, let's
say, 9 o 'clock or so...

He was never out of your sight?

Look, we gotta get into detail.

Nice work.

Lovely, lovely.

Oh, my point in question. Was he ever
out of your sight between those hours?

Right. Hey, what's all this information
worth?

It's priceless.

She was carrying your business card,
Barnaby.

The reason we called you down.

Maybe this is the chalet that Lasseter
says he was with. How did she die in?

We found her beach mat and a handbag up
on the roof.

She'd been sunbathing.

And then she came down to her apartment
for something. Or so it would appear.

You sound like you think otherwise.

This proves to be the girl Lasseter was
with.

My patience with him has just about run
out.

Ed, why would Lasseter pick this girl
who would give the lie to a story?

He'd pick a fictitious name and
description and let her go at that.

Which he might be having second thoughts
about.

We checked his whereabouts today.

At home.

No callers, no visitors, no proof he was
there.

It's powerful, Mr. Lasseter.

Hey.

That is not cheap costume jewelry.

No, it surely isn't.

Then explain it.

In your own words. I can't explain it.
Whoever burglarized the house knew this

girl, Shelley, and gave her the ring.

Mr. Lasseter, in view of no credible
explanation by you of what is proving to

far too many coincidences, I'm placing
you under arrest.

John Cutton, you will be charged with
suspected murder.

Jones, will you call my lawyer? Yes, of
course.

Harry?

Barnaby?

Harry's just been arrested for the
murder of Sandra.

I don't believe that.

There's a case against him?

Well, so far it's purely circumstantial,
but if it ever comes to trial, I think

that your testimony might help him.

My testimony?

Well, you were closest to the intruder.
You struggled with him. Did you notice

any smell of alcohol or liquor on him?

Mr. Jones, the only thing I remember
from that night is a blur of confusion.

Well, you didn't mention it in your
statement to the sheriff. However, the

manager of the motel said that he
noticed a strong smell of liquor.

Well, I've got to get on with some
things. Do you need me, Barnaby?

I'm going to see Jedediah and then talk
to some people. I'll check you later.

You know...

When I first came here, this home struck
me as being close to perfect.

A few miles from the beach, the
mountains nearby, marvelous.

Sandra loved it, too.

I'm not sure Harry did, though. Oh,
Harry was a fool.

I mean, not to have considered he was
making Sandra unhappy.

He's a man who had everything and
appreciated nothing.

And now with this arrest...

Which I hope and pray is a mistake.

It would be nightmarish if it isn't.

Betty, I, uh... I've never been good
talking around a subject.

I'm dreading the day I have to leave
here, and I'm sure you know why.

Everything has been pleasant up until...
I love you, Betty.

I had to say it.

Maybe they're considered cornball words
today, but I had to let you know exactly

how I feel.

Well, they're not cornball words. It's
just that... Wow, Mr.

Nugent, you really move fast.

Am I the wrong man saying the words?

Oh, no, I didn't mean that.

It's just that... How do I say it?

Say it.

I'm fond of you, Paul.

Can we just wait and see?

Okay.

Let's see.

About two weeks.

Shelly came from Santa Barbara about the
first of the month and said something

about trying to get a modeling gig.

That apartment she was living in was
sort of... Well, let's say she wasn't

too well financially.

You can say that again.

Hey, I don't know if it's karma or what,
but some people just don't get the

breaks. Last winter, her old man up and
split with a beat -up old car that she'd

saved all year to buy. Can you believe
it?

When you gave her my card and asked her
to call me, would you say that she

needed money?

I can do more than say it. She borrowed
money for groceries that morning from

me. She was really down and out, huh?
Oh, and hurting.

Mr. Jones, I've got to put a couple
hours in at the art gallery tonight.

And I don't really think there's much
more I can tell you about Shelly.

One last question, Elma. When you gave
her my card, did you have the impression

that she was going to call me?

For 20 bucks?

That's a week's rent in that rat trap
she was living in.

Thanks for dinner.

Doesn't make sense, Jennifer.

A girl has a valuable ring like that in
her possession for several days and goes

around borrowing money for food?

Well, if you're thinking somebody
planted the ring in Shelley's apartment

frame Harry Lasheter, what about a
motive?

Well, I've been talking with Sandra's
attorney.

Her estate's going to amount to over $4
million.

Outside of a bequest of $50 ,000 to an
uncle in Canada, Harry gets the whole

thing. Unless, of course, somebody
proves that he murdered her.

Right. His share would go back into the
estate to be divided amongst Andrew's

blood relatives.

I'm trying to get the attorney to tell
me how many there are.

Of course, one is the uncle in Canada.
He can't be located. He's supposed to be

on some kind of a business trip.

Wait a minute. You think that uncle
might be in L .A.? That's a possibility.

And then there is the cousin, Paul
Nugent.

The way he looks to me, behind that
boyish smile, you'll find one of the

gamblers this side of Las Vegas.

Wow.

Now that would be heavy.

Would have been a matter of timing.

Paul knocks things about to make it look
like a struggle and shoots Sandra and

himself. What about fingerprints? Police
didn't find any gloves.

Could have used anything, a sheet, a
blanket to hold the gun.

All right, okay. So he goes up to
Harry's cabin one day during the week

Harry isn't there.

Takes a pair of shoes, some reload
ammunition.

One thing I can't explain, and that's
the missing jewelry.

Betty said that she saw Sandra take the
ring off and put it in this box, which

was right there.

So... We know it was in the room along
with the other missing pieces.

Well, would he hide it somewhere in the
room, knowing that police would be

processing a room after a killing like
that? Well, one thing is sure, he

wouldn't plan on taking it to the
hospital with him.

Want to be Jones' office?

Yeah, he's right here. Hold on.

Attorney for the Lassiter case.

Leonard, thank you for getting back to
me so soon.

That's okay.

According to a genealogical study
Sandra's father commissioned when he was

alive, Sandra's only blood relatives
were limited to that uncle in Canada I

you about and Paul Nugent.

The only two people in Sandra's will
were her husband and the uncle.

Yes, except for a token bequest to Paul
Nugent.

A few personal things.

But since we've talked, Paul is suddenly
very much in the picture inheritance

-wise. How's that?

Since Sandra's death, I've been trying
unsuccessfully to contact that uncle at

his farm in Winnipeg.

About 15 minutes ago, I got word back
that his body was found at the bottom of

well. Is that so?

The uncle's dead.

What? Anything else, Barnaby?

No, thank you, Leonard. We'll call you
if we need you.

When had it happened?

Gentlemen,

I have made a discovery. I enjoy being
spoiled.

Press duck at Monique's this evening and
tomorrow champagne brunch.

What's the matter? Outside of a few
minor bequests, the only two people

mentioned in Sandra's will were her
husband Harry and an uncle in Canada.

Oh, yes, that would be her Uncle Reese.

She was very fond of him.

Uncle Reese is dead.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Not as sorry as I am to tell you that
the only thing standing between Paul

Nugent and some several million dollars
is Harry Lasseter's conviction for

murder.

Paul is behind all this. He certainly
does not have a lock on Harry Lasseter

being convicted. There's no direct
evidence.

The fact that Paul must be well aware
of.

Now, if he is dealing out these cards,
and I say if, he must have a joker palm

somewhere.

So now, it's like waiting for the other
shoe to fall.

Expecting rain?

Sorry, no.

I just can't seem to get Sandra off my
mind.

And now Harry.

And I can tell you the trial won't be
easy on any of us.

Oh, Betty, I thought I could pull it
off, but no, I'm not sure.

Not if the prosecution hammers away at
that one point.

I don't understand, Paul.

It came up yesterday.

Barnaby speaking about my testimony
being in Harry's favor.

You see, I never mentioned it before
that the burglar might have been

I never mentioned it because I didn't
think it was important.

And now with Harry being involved.

The man had been drinking?

Yes.

I'll bet he.

I'm afraid I won't make a good defense
witness.

I mean, the fact that I personally like
Harry. I mean, you know that.

And some of the things I'll be forced to
admit if they ask me.

All you can do is tell the truth, Paul.

You know, Betty, there's one other
thing.

I... Well, it's something I've been
wrestling with since that night.

that I haven't told anyone because it
could almost be an accusation.

Against Harry?

At the time I was shot.

I mean, everything was very painful for
a moment and I remember there was a

ringing in my ears from the sound of the
gun.

And then...

My eyes were closed, and I heard a voice
like a

muttered curse, somebody saying, damn
fool.

Are you saying the voice sounded like
Harry's?

Oh, no, no, no. I couldn't swear it was
Harry's voice.

At the same time, I couldn't swear it
wasn't.

Well, Barnaby, Paul had only seconds to
snatch his jewelry before Betty and the

others came running in.

Well, Sandra was back in the dressing
area.

He'd have had all the time he needed to
hide the jewels.

Barnaby?

Yes, Betty?

The other shoe just dropped.

Seems the man behind the ski mask not
only had been drinking, he also muttered

few words.

Let me take a not -so -wild guess.

He sounded like Harry.

If pressed, he feels he must admit such
was the case.

Barnaby, he seems to be in an expansive
mood.

Very confident.

Suppose I draw him out. Get him to talk
about the night Sandra was killed.

No. If we're right about Paul, he's not
somebody to play games with.

Why don't you draw out to lunch? Give us
a couple more hours here.

Right.

That jewel case goes on the table. Yeah.

You know, Barnaby, Paul's been in the
house alone.

The jewels could be anywhere.

No, because when Paul shot himself, he
had no idea how serious the wound would

be. So he had arranged to leave the
jewelry in some place for possibly

weeks.

Where's the figurine?

I don't know. Where is it?

When you took the stuff off the table,
wasn't there an oriental figurine with

it? No.

No, there was just this and these two
things.

On the night that Sandra was murdered,
there was an Oriental figurine in this

room on that table.

I'm sure that it was in Betty's
statement to Sheriff Coyle. I know it's

somewhere.

Here it is.

Okay, Coyle. You did see this dinner
ring being placed in the jewelry box the

night Mrs. Lasseter was killed.

Betty, it was definitely there.

I happened to be standing at the table
admiring an Oriental antique Mr. Nugent

had given Sandra when she removed the
ring from her finger and placed it into

the box.

A gift from Paul to Sandra.

Sort of a Trojan horse.

Look, if it's anything like those
childproof bottles, why don't you just

it open?

Ah, ye of little faith.

Jackpot. We're so foolish when we're
young.

I mean, it passes by so quickly.

And all the I wish I had has become
almost like a theme song for failure.

That old expression, take the bull by
the horns, well, it's the way to go.

And you feel now that you've taken the
bull by the horns?

And making decisions right for me, yes.

When I was packing for my trip here, I
told myself,

There are no more tomorrows.

Only the todays.

You've got to gamble.

Gamble. Life against life. What you are
against what you could be.

Good grief, Paul, you make living sound
grim.

My life is grim.

Like poor Sandra.

You blow -dry your hair one minute, and
the next minute you're dead.

Planes crash.

Boat.

Something wrong?

Besides the old killjoy here?

No.

No, I... I just have to get back.

Okay.

Dinner tonight?

Oh, I'm sorry. I've got a ton of
bookkeeping.

You know, the IRS.

Always on our trail.

You're no good at playing poker, Betty.

No good at being devious.

Ask me what you're thinking.

Born to be, they left just a few minutes
ago. The waitress thinks that they're

headed down to the marina.

Oh, please.

Oh, you're hurting me.

I made a mistake, didn't I? I don't know
what you're talking about, Paul.

What was it, Betty?

What was my mistake, Betty?

Talking about Sandra Blodranger here.

How would you have known that unless you
were in her bedroom while she was in

her dressing room?

You weren't in your room hearing a
scuffle as you told the sheriff.

Such a small thing.

I don't have any other choice, Betty.

You're not going to be able to explain
my body being so near.

They'll have to prove it wasn't an
accident. I'll settle for that.

Oh, why?

Why all the killing?

It can't be for money.

You're a successful businessman.

Successful?

Hanging on by my fingertips year after
year?

Coming here as Sandra's house guest to
sip at the good life for a week?

Maybe two?

And then do you know what I go back to?

A pretense that is slowly...

Burying me.

I know you don't understand.

But I love you, Betty.

Now it doesn't matter.

Nugent! Get back!

Sheriff knows all about that hollow
antique.

You got no place to go.

Come on, Nugent.

You don't want to hurt anybody else.

Thank you.

I learned that Paul Nugent flew into
Winnipeg and rented a car.

So much for how Sanders' uncle wound up
in the well.

I wonder what he had in mind for me if
I'd been found not guilty at a trial.

Maybe you'll sleep better never knowing.

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