Original subtitles

Max: This is my boss Jonathan Hart,

a self-made millionaire.

He's quite a guy.

This is Mrs. H. She's gorgeous.

She's one lady who knows how to take care of herself.

By the way, my name is Max.

I take care of both of them,

which ain't easy 'cause when they met,

it was murder.

We MacLaishes are one of the oldest Scottish clans

with members scattered throughout the world.

We embrace nearly

a hundred sub-clans or septs.

The McFarrens, the Caldwoods, the Murdochs,

names like that.

Ah. Well, Sir Gavin, I'm interested in writing

an article about the entire clan system,

all the history, the traditions,

how it's managed to exist

all this time across national boundaries.

Right through here, Mrs. Hart.

Oh, thank you.

I'll be glad to give you an interview, young woman,

but I'm a wee bit tired.

That's the trouble with being the chieftain

of a clan in this modern age.

- Uh-huh. - You spend half your life

fighting the jetlag.

I understand.

Sir Gavin came over a few days early

so he could rest up before the games as my guest.

This is beautiful.

Thank you.

Now, forgive me, Mrs. Hart, but we have some important

business to discuss.

Of course.

Perhaps we can arrange for an appointment?

Why don't you call me in the morning?

I'll set it up.

Wonderful. Thank you.

I look forward to seeing you again.

Sir Gavin, bye-bye.

Oh, you've done a grand job here, Ramsey MacLaish.

A wee bit of Scotland in Malibu, California.

It's an honor to have you in my home.

Right this way, Sir Gavin.

You said in your cable you had a problem.

Our relationship, is a distant one, Ramsey MacLaish,

genealogically and geographically,

but you are my logical heir.

Well, I'm glad you came to me.

Hell, blood is thicker than water.

Aye, it is. It is.

You said something about a valuable discovery.

An elderly uncle died

and I found this old parchment

among his papers.

It proves beyond a shadow of a doubt

that a certain relic,

a Scottish national treasure,

is buried on my estate beneath the foundations

of Glengarry Castle.

King Duncan's claymore?

The royal ceremonial sword.

Forged in gold and studded with gems.

It must be worth several million.

But I don't see a problem.

All you've got to do is dig it up.

Problem is Glengarry Castle no longer belongs to me.

Regrettably, for so many years,

I have been unable to pay my taxes.

Her Majesty's government is about to foreclose.

Turn me out.

Ah, I see.

You want me to pay your taxes.

How do you plan to pay me back?

By putting the sword on display

in the castle for the tourists.

Mind you, it may take a few years.

Has anyone else seen this document?

Not another living soul.

I flew straight here from Edinburgh.

Sir Gavin, let's take a dram.

To the sword.

To the sword of Duncan.

I'm sure you know your "Macbeth."

There's danger in men's smiles.

The nearer in blood, the nearer bloody.

Colonel.

Let's get him up to the guestroom.

Old chieftains should die in comfort in their beds.

That's got it, Mrs. H.

Oh, Max, I don't know.

You think it's a little too loud?

No. But it ain't exactly whispering either.

It looked a lot of different in the pattern book.

No. You did fine. It looks great.

Hello, Freeway.

How are you, boy? Come on. Come on.

- Hi, Mr. H. - Hi, Max.

- Hi, darling. - Hello.

How was your day?

I don't really know yet.

Oh, when will you know?

I will know in about two minutes

when the business news goes on.

We put some stock on the market today.

Maybe we make a killing and maybe we didn't.

Would you like something to drink?

No, thank you. Do you notice anything different?

Different? Turn around.

You got your hair cut.

My hair? No.

New lipstick?

No.

New sweater outfit, the slacks?

Mnh-mnh.

I noticed them the moment I walked in.

- You did? - I like it.

- You do? - Uh-huh.

Oh, great.

Try to resolve the state budget.

On the local front, Scottish clan chieftain

Sir Gavin MacLaish died last night

at the home of a friend in Malibu,

reportedly of a stroke.

Sir Gavin was in California

to preside over next weekend's Highland Games

organized by the Californian Scottish Society.

He was 73.

Sir Gavin's body will be flown home to Scotland for burial.

Coming up next, we'll take a look at today's business news.

I just saw him yesterday.

He was fine.

Just a little tired, but fine.

Well, wasn't he... quite an old man?

I guess so.

He was so sweet.

I'll call the society.

I suppose they're having a funeral for him.

I'd like to go if you don't mind.

Oh, no.

I'm real sorry, darling.

Well, there he goes,

taking the high road to Scotland

back to the hills of his beginning.

Did he suffer much pain?

No, I don't think so. He didn't come down to dinner

so when I went to bed, I stopped by his room.

He was in a coma, scarcely breathing.

I called Dr. Baird, but it was no use.

By the time that he got there,

Sir Gavin was gone.

Excuse me. This is my husband Jonathan Hart. Ramsey MacLaish.

How do you do?

And Jeannie Marnach,

Secretary to the Scottish Society.

And chairperson of the clan council

for my sins.

Oh, and this is Alec Seton,

our champion weight thrower.

Pleasure. Mrs. Hart, Mr. Hart.

- How do you do? - How do you do?

Jennifer, I do hope you go ahead with the article about us.

I'm just sure that's what Sir Gavin would have wanted.

Well, if that's what you think, I'd be delighted.

When can we talk?

Well, you'll have to bear with me.

The games are less than a week away

and now I do have to call a special meeting.

Special meeting? What for?

To decide who's gonna succeed Sir Gavin

as MacLaish of MacLaish

and take over the Glengarry Estates in Scotland.

Decide? It's a formality. I'm his only relative.

Jeannie: You know the tradition very well.

Succession isn't only determined by bloodline.

I mean, the council does have to approve.

Jeannie, half the council lives in Scotland.

I've already cabled them.

Either they'll fly over here

or they'll give me their proxies.

You're really gonna put it to a vote?

Old time clan democracy.

My, my.

Now, suit yourself.

Just make sure you elect someone

who'll support all your activities

the way I have.

Well, he certainly is confident.

He's rich.

Having money doesn't make a chieftain.

I need a person of unimpeachable honor

He's just unfit.

Among other things, Ramsey's chemical company was fined

for secretly dumping toxic waste materials.

Not exactly what you would call public spirit.

The problem is that he was born in Scotland

and he does have the hereditary claim

and that still carries

a lot of weight for the council.

Why don't you run against him?

Well, you know, if I don't find a stronger candidate,

I might have to do that.

She'd get my vote.

They say

that that is bonny Prince Charles' favorite liquor.

- Oh. - Hmm.

- Cheers. - Cheers.

Oh.

If he'd given this to his generals,

he would have beat the English for sure.

I'm sorry to disturb you,

but you got a visitor.

Isn't it a little late?

She says it's urgent.

She's on her way up from the gate.

She?

Oh, hello, Max.

Forgive me for just bursting in like this,

but I have been on the phone

to Edinburgh all day and Jennifer,

you're not gonna believe this.

You're a member of our clan.

Me?

How?

Your great Aunt Morra.

She was a Caldwood. And the Caldwoods

are a sect of the great clan MacLaish.

Now, now, just according to my sources,

she was married to Colin MacLaish of Drumgarve,

the third son of Hamish McLeish of McLeish,

the laird of Invercranky

and that puts you in direct line.

Direct line?

What does all this mean?

It means that Mr. Ramsey T. MacLaish

is going to have a serious rival

for the chieftainship,

a person of equally strong hereditary claim,

you my dear.

Meeting will come to order.

Sir Gavin MacLaish of MacLaish,

the 293rd chieftain,

died leaving no direct descendants.

Excuse me.

Hi.

Two nominations have been received by the council.

The successor will of course inherit Glengarry Castle

in Scotland along with its highland estate, Grasmoore,

salmon fishery and family distillery.

It sounds like a dandy place for a weekend hideaway.

Mm-hmm.

As is our custom, a celebration Highland ball

will be held the evening after the games

at the home of the new chieftain.

I look forward to having you all there as my guests.

I now call on Pipe Major Donald Crammond

to announce the results of the council ballot.

The count, including the proxy votes,

is as follows, Mr. Ramsey T. MacLaish

of Los Angeles County, California,

- 17. - Whoa.

Mrs. Jennifer Hart,

also of Los Angeles, 17.

We have a tie vote.

So, in accordance with tradition,

the choice will be made by the clan members themselves

at the Highland Ball

and I guess our only problem

is to decide where it's going to be held.

I'll still be happy to host the ball.

I have every confidence in the membership.

How does Jennifer Hart feel about that?

Perhaps we should toss a coin.

Would the two candidates please join us for the toss?

Pipe Major.

Prince Charles crown.

Let the lady call.

Heads.

Heads it is.

The ball will be held at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Hart,

and that concludes the meeting.

Congratulations, Mrs. Hart.

I hope you know what you're getting into.

Oh, well, actually, Mr. MacLaish, I don't.

- Ramsey: You mean they didn't tell you? - No.

Glengarry Castle is a moldy old ruin. The distillery is closed.

The whole place is encumbered with taxes and in fact,

the British Government's about to foreclose.

Well, if Jennifer does become chieftain,

it'll be my pleasure to pay the taxes

and be sure that the place is restored.

That's a very generous campaign contribution, Mr. Hart.

I'm sure you'd do the same.

Naturally.

Well, may the best person win.

We're gonna give a party.

Mm-hmm.

Being married to a chieftain could be a lot of fun.

Oh. I don't know. I think this whole thing has gone a little too far.

Oh, personal involvement ought to produce a better story, don't you think?

It's complicating everything.

What do you think the people in Scotland think

about a third generation American becoming a chieftain?

I never even heard of Aunt Morra.

Hart Industries has a representative in Edinburgh.

Why don't you call them and have them check it out?

What's his name?

Abe Solomon.

His clan's even older than yours.

A formidable rival, Mr. MacLaish.

A bonny lass with a rich husband

and you told me she's hosting the ball.

All I need is one more vote.

Perhaps a little lobbying,

some friendly persuasion

maybe one of the council

could change his mind.

And Alec Seton looks like the best bet.

He's not too bright,

works for a fast food franchise.

He will be at the stadium training.

I'm glad I brought you over here, Colonel.

The old country had nothing

to offer a retired officer

with gentlemanly tastes.

This is still the land of opportunity.

I can always find work for a man of your talent.

Welcome to Brigadoon.

You know, I used to do a little

Highland dancing when I was in school.

What made you give it up?

Oh, I kept cutting my feet on the swords.

I've been meaning to ask you, darling,

what does a chieftain's husband do,

is it sort of like being a queen's consort?

No, not really.

Actually, he has a very difficult job.

He has to tune the ceremonial bagpipes every morning.

Then he has to judge haggis cookouts,

things like that.

All work and no play.

Oh, I wouldn't say that.

Life is one long highland fling.

Oh.

Come on, Alec...

Let's raise it, guys. Twelve feet?

Not me. I'm through.

Not even for an Edinburgh ale?

Nope. I'll pass.

- Take care, guys - Okay. See you tomorrow, Alec.

Don't overdo it.

Mr. MacLaish.

- You're looking good, lad. - Not bad.

You're gonna win, I know it. You got winner written all over you.

I'm a winner, too.

Oh, I'm so glad you're here.

Donald has something he wants to show you.

This was delivered to me this morning.

It was mailed a week ago in Scotland.

It's from Sir Gavin.

"I've made a startling historic discovery,

which will solve all my financial problems

and enable us to restore Glengarry Castle."

He didn't say anything to me about this.

"I'm leaving at once for California.

By the time I see you, I hope to have concluded

a business agreement to finance the project."

I may not be real smart.

I didn't make college or anything,

but I was brought up to be honest.

I know right from wrong.

You're trying to get me to change my vote, Mr. MacLaish.

Pay me off with a better job?

Now hold on, son. Look at it this way.

I know the way to look at it.

You're offering me a bribe.

I'm going to report this to the rest of the council.

- What are you suggesting, pipe major? - I'm not sure.

All I know is Sir Gavin never had any history of heart disease.

And Ramsey MacLaish never said one word

about any kind of discovery or business agreement?

The weight must have fallen on his head.

He must have misjudged his throw.

It's genuine, no doubt about it.

The sword is there just for the taking.

The IRS is on my back.

They want several million in the next couple of months.

This damn thing is worth more than the North Sea oil.

As chieftain, you'll be expected to return to the Scottish nation.

I'll have it up for auction at Christie's

the week after I take over Glengarry Castle.

If you take over.

Do you think I'm gonna let a woman

stand in the way of a chance like this?

Oh, the Highland dancing is starting soon.

I'd like to see that.

Me too.

Well, it's over in the open air theater. You got plenty of time.

Oh, good.

Excuse me, I've got some guests around here.

Something wrong?

No, I just never realized what cute legs you have.

- Will you cut it out? - No, they are very cute.

You are what the Scots called a... "laddie."

- How do you feel? - I feel fine.

No chill? No cold?

No. No wind.

Then it's true what they say about the Scots.

What do they say about the Scots?

Oh, you know what they say.

- No. - Oh, come on,

you can tell me, I need to know

for my article, research.

It appears to me you have a...

Will you cut that out?

Not here.

I'll give you the bare facts later,

a full exposure.

Promise?

He's dead.

- Mr. H. - You have three deaths in a matter of days...

The old chieftain apparently a coronary,

then the young athlete gets his skull busted,

could have been an accident and now this.

Are you suggesting that all three are connected?

I think it's a whole lot more than just coincidence, Mrs. Hart.

- Excuse me. - MacBridger,

what do you know about him?

He was a retired colonel from Highlanders,

resident of California for three years and listed his occupation as consultant.

And he was a member of the society,

you know, a quiet man, he kept to himself.

- Excuse me. - Lieutenant Delaney,

my wife was the target.

That arrow missed her by inches.

MacBridger tried to kill her.

Or somebody hired him to try and kill her.

Then that somebody could still be around.

Delaney: That's true.

Any idea who that might be?

I think perhaps

maybe you better take a look at this letter.

It was written to Pipe Major Crammond from Sir Gavin.

And I think you oughta take a look at this telex.

It's from Scotland, urgent.

This is from Abe Solomon, our representative in Edinburgh.

"After speaking to Lord Lionel, King of Arms,

it has been discovered that Jennifer

has no hereditary claim.

No bloodline connections to Clan MacLaish whatsoever."

Signed Abe.

Aunt Morra.

There is no such person.

You invented her.

Why did you do that, Jeannie?

Oh, God... I'm sorry.

I just had to prevent Ramsey MacLaish

from becoming chieftain.

Maybe now you understand why.

Jennifer, you are our only hope to beat him.

I'm... I'm sorry.

I don't get it. Somebody would kill two or three people

for an honorary title and a broken down estate?

I think there's a whole lot more to it than that,

this business deal.

Ramsey is going to be here tonight

for the ball and for the final vote.

He might try it again.

That would be our perfect chance to bring him out into the open.

I don't have a shred of evidence as of right now.

Don't worry, Mrs. Hart,

I'll have men all over this house.

- You were wonderful. - Oh, you were great.

- Wasn't that fun? I loved that. - Man: Mrs. Hart.

- Are you... - Mr. Mooky MacPherson.

- Oh, how do you do? - I know you're gonna make it.

Oh, why, thank you.

Won't that be great, a woman chieftain?

Well, you know, they did tell me

that there have been other women chieftains.

- You're kidding. - Unh-unh.

Wow.

I think that's great.

Well, as they say in the old country...

Mr. Hart.

Mooky.

Whiskey.

No, I think that...

Oh, this is the traditional dram of Glengarry malt.

- To toast the successor. - Ah.

Excuse me, I'll be right back.

Clansmen, ladies, your attention, please.

It is my great pleasure to welcome you all

to the California Scottish Society's 33rd Highland Ball.

Besides having a wonderful evening together...

3:00 in the afternoon? Are you sure about that, Lieutenant?

That was the time on the death certificate signed by Dr. Baird.

Then Ramsey lied because he said he went to Sir Gavin's room

after dinner and found him in a coma.

That's all I need to bring him in

for questioning and search his place.

Before the members of the clan

choose Sir Gavin's successor,

I would like to ask you all to rise

and observe a minute's silence in his memory.

Jeannie: Thank you.

Please be seated.

I now call on Pipe Major Donald Crammond.

The members of the Clan MacLaish,

in accordance with tradition,

will now choose a new leader

by show of hands.

There are two claimants.

First Mrs. Jennifer Hart.

And second Ramsey T. MacLaish.

Obviously, there's no reason to have a count.

A salute to the new chieftain,

Jennifer, MacLaish of MacLaish.

All: Jennifer, MacLaish of MacLaish.

Congratulations.

Thank you.

Will the new chieftain respond to the toast?

Do I have to give a speech?

Drink to the clan.

Jennifer: Oh.

To the clan.

Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen.

You should be more careful whom you drink with, darling.

What?

Especially when the man owns a pharmaceutical firm.

I just talked to the police, Ramsey.

Sir Gavin died six hours earlier than you said.

I saw you switch the glasses.

Now, you're wondering

why Jennifer isn't reacting.

How are you feeling, darling?

Fine.

You know why that is, Ramsey?

Because I switched the glasses back.

You drank your own poison.

How long will it take?

Are you feeling much pain?

For God's sake, I'll need a doctor.

You hired MacBridger.

- Please. - Answer me.

Yes. Yes.

The doctors will have to know what you've taken.

Was it the same poison that you gave Sir Gavin?

It was a blood coagulant, a new discovery.

For God's sake.

And impossible to trace, no doubt.

It causes a coronary.

Relax, Ramsey.

This is the one with the poison in it.

Lieutenant,

will you take that down to the police lab

and have it checked?

Well?

Darling.

Darling, I think I could use a little scotch.

Jeannie: Sir Duncan's sword

was right where the old parson said.

Excavated by the courtesy of Abe Solomon.

Gonna keep it, Mr. H, or sell it?

Neither one, Max.

The new chieftain elected unanimously after Jennifer's resignation

is going to take it back to Scotland for me

and give it to the National Museum.

Oh, Max, I brought you something

wonderful from Edinburgh.

- For me? - Mm-hmm.

What is it?

If I'm not mistaken, isn't that haggis?

- Huh? - That's right.

Oh, the Scottish national dish.

Yeah.

What's it made of?

It's sheep's liver and heart

and lungs and all minced with oatmeal

and spices and sewn up in the stomach.

Jeez.

It's delicious.

Really? Delicious?

Sure. You'll love it.

All you have to do is just boil it for about an hour.

What about it, Mr. and Mrs. H,

want some for dinner?

- Um... - Well, uh...

- I think we have... - We have a reservation.

- Reservations. - We're going to have a pizza

at George Santa Pietro's.

Oh, yes, we are.

What about you and I splitting this?

Haggis by candlelight?

Nothing sounds more romantic.