All language subtitles for Mannix s1e23_To Kill a Writer

(jazzy pop music playing)

� �

Hiya, doll.

You're so late. I was afraid
you weren't coming.

Dean...

What?

I miss you when
you're not around.

I'm sorry.
I got hung up.

We'll barbecue
at my dad's place tonight.

With me there? He'll like that.

I told you, Dean.

He's gone fishing up at Crystal.

He won't be back till next week.

But you're sure it's all right

for me to come sneaking in there
while he's out?

Please, Dean.

Look, if you'd rather, we can
all go up to my apartment.

I just thought
it'd be more fun.

Oh, some fun.
Big pad, stereo,

Dad won't be back
till next week.

Want to take a look
at next week

right now, doll?

Maybe he forgot
his fishing tackle.

Sure.

Please, don't go away.
I'll be right back.

(car door closes)

Hi, baby.

Hi, Dad.

Got a kiss
for your old man?

I thought you said
you weren't...

I did.

Believe it or not,
rain washed out the bridge.

I couldn't get
to Crystal.

Julie, does my coming back
here spoil your plans?

No, not really.

Well, knowing you,
that means yes.

What was it,
a party here, hmm?

Mm-hmm.

I'll tell you what.

I'll bunk at your place
and the joint's yours.

Dwight West,
father and resident angel.

And last week, you thought
I was only a saint.

Oh, no, I knew you
were really an angel.

I just didn't want you
to get stuck up.

I'll shower
and clear out.

Oh, I'm not going
to ask

if that beach bum friend
of yours will be here.

I'd rather not know.

Daddy, you'd like Dean
if you really knew him.

I know him.

I'm willing to like him,
if you don't.

Baby, I don't want you
to get hung up on
a nothing guy.

Stick to your old man till
the right guy shows.

Would you ever admit
there's a right guy?

What's this?

"To whom it may concern."

Well, open it.

You're a whom.

"This is supposed to be
the coward's way out,

"but it's the only way left
to me.

"To those that I love

"and who love me,

"miss me a little,
but not too much.

I'm not worth much,
really."

Daddy, what does this mean?

This is a suicide note!

Who wrote it?

I did.

(theme music plays)

� �

(telephone rings)

Mannix, would you come
into my office, please?

I have an interesting one
for you.

Dwight West, the novelist,
just wrote a suicide note.

MANNIX: So?
He doesn't want to kill himself.

(jazzy pop music playing)

� �

(knocking)

Dean, I'm sorry.

The party, it's off.

Pop put the ice on it, huh?

Didn't want his little girl
running around with a beach bum.

Reading that suicide note was
like reading my own obituary.

I don't mind telling you
I was shook up.

Why, if you wrote it?

(chuckles)

It was meant to be fiction.

A character in a story
I'm writing commits suicide.

Somebody pulled that page
out of the manuscript,

probably burnt the rest
of the story and left the page

to indicate I was going
to kill myself.

Who, uh, who knew
about the manuscript,

might have had
access to it?

Anybody, everybody.

When I'm working on a story,
it's no state secret.

I talk about it.

My daughter, Julie.

Mr. Mannix from Intertect.

Hello, Julie.

Hi, Mr. Mannix.

Thanks for coming.

Whoever left that note

must have had a funny
sense of humor.

I suppose it could
be a practical

joke-- in appalling
taste, I might say.

Tell me, West, you know
of anyone

who'd want to kill you and make
it look like suicide?

That's what's so goofy
about it,

and fascinating, too.

I don't have any enemies.

(gunshot)
Get down!

Stay down!

(waves lapping in distance)

What are you doing here?

What's your name?

I said, what's...?

(pistol hammer cocks)

Did you see anybody?

Who do you know that's
about eight feet tall,

almost as broad,
with a scar on his face?

What?

Well, maybe six and a
half feet tall.

It doesn't ring a bell.

Was he, uh, shooting at me?

I don't think so.

Didn't look like the
type for gunplay.

I'd say spine-crushing would
be more in his line.

Oh. No name? Nothing?

You had a gun.
Why didn't you stop him?

He wasn't
doing anything.

Daddy, I'm scared.

Oh, no, darling.

(sighs)

You know, I'm getting
hooked on this puzzle.

Say somebody's out
to kill me.

I should be able
to figure out who it is.

I've written a dozen
mystery novels,

worked out the plots
logically...

Look, West, you got a place
you could hide out for a while?

Any hotel, but why?

If somebody's after me,
I might find a clue around here,

at least hit on some idea
of who's trying

to get me.

JULIE:
Daddy, please don't
take any chances.

Let Mr. Mannix find
the answers.

Yeah. I get paid for it.

Besides, real killers don't
manipulate as easily

as your make-believe
characters.

I'll want to reach you later,

so, uh, you better check in
at the Majestic Hotel.

Tell Charley Johnson I sent you.

All right.

I'll register
as Phillip Martin.

What'll you be doing?

Waiting for a killer.

(footsteps approaching)

Hello, Willie.

Hey, Mannix, you!

I ain't carrying.

Why'd you jump me?

What were you reaching for?

I got a heartburn
that don't know when to stop.

That's illegal?

Breaking and entering is.

Who breaks? Who enters?

Oh, not you, Willie.

You got sent up
for walking in your sleep.

A long time I ain't seen
my friend Dwight West.

It's time, I figure.
I come to visit.

So out of habit, you just come
in through the window.

Come on, Willie, you can do
better than that.

Ask Dwight. Ask him.

Ask him am I a friend.

Do I sneak in so I shouldn't

knock on the door
when he's busy.

How do you know Dwight West?

Something happen to him?
Where is he?

Come on, Willie, you're not one
of his old college classmates.

He was hanging around
night court;

"getting color," he called it.

I just happened to be there.

An innocent visitor?

A bum rap.

So they threw the book at me,
but I didn't deserve it.

Dwight'll tell you.

You tell me, Willie.

We got to talking,
and when I got out

of the cooler,
I looked him up.

Since then, we got like
a working arrangement

between friends.

I give him stories,
you know,

things like they happened
that didn't get in the paper,

and he slips me a buck or two.

Dwight also gave me
a good recommend to
the parole officer.

That ain't chopped liver.

Staying at the Cass Hotel,
huh, Willie?

Mm-hmm.

Well, Dwight ain't here.

There's no reason
for me to hang around.

Sit down, Willie.

Mannix, don't lean on me.

I don't know nothing.
Let me go.

(thump)

(mellow jazz playing)

Mr. Quinn, can I talk
to you-- alone?

Of course, Willie.

Anytime...

during office hours,
9:00 to 5:00.

Unbreakable rule.

I, uh, will buy you
a drink, though.

No, thanks.

You left in
a hurry, Willie.

I got a right.

Who's your large friend?

My lawyer.

Try again.

Orlando Quinn, and
you can go ask him

if he didn't handle my case
last time I was sent up.

Well, now, that's not much
of a recommendation, Willie.

Mannix, you give me
a hard time,

and I'll get Mr. Quinn
to sue you for something.

He's big on suits.

Run along, Willie.

I know where to find
you if I need you.

Mr. Quinn?

I'm Joe Mannix,
friend of Willie's.

You keep bad company.

He's your client.

True.

Won't you sit down?

One can't win them all.

Tell me, Quinn, uh,
do you eat here often?

Why?

Well, uh, Willie knew exactly
where to find you and, uh,

you do seem to get
special service.

Do you mind?

Hmm.

Thank you.

Point A, questions and answers
supplied by deduction.

Point B, a city detective

couldn't afford to dress
as well as you do.

Point C, I'm private.

Intertect.

A reputable company.

You really a friend
of Willie's?

Well, I know him.

Says he's a friend of a friend,
somebody who lives here

at the beach.

Dwight West.

Another client?

I handle only criminal cases.

A need exists.

As Anatole France once said,

"The law, in its
majestic equality,

"forbids the rich as
well as the poor

to sleep under bridges,
to beg in the streets."

"To sleep under bridges,
to beg in the streets,
and to steal bread."

Now, about Dwight West...

A good writer.

Not as good as
Anatole France, but...

And he soon may be as dead.

Go on.

Somebody is trying to kill him.

Improbable, so doubtless true.

He's not a client?

Friend?

Let's say an acquaintance.

We amuse each other.

I provide research,
you might say.

You and Willie.

Tell me, uh, any other mutual
friends who share an interesting

crime with West?

Well, there may be others,

but only one comes to mind,
Nikki Jason.

Who's he?

He?

(knocking at door)

(knocking continues)

(knocking)

Just a minute.

I'm Mannix from Intertect.

Nikki Jason.

Quinn sent you up?

Well, he mentioned your
friendship with Dwight West.

You're a detective.

Hmm...

Do you always talk
about your clients?

Not usually.

I don't talk about my friends.

I'm working for West.

If he tells me so.

Mind if I use your phone?

Be my guest.

(door closes)

Would a, uh, word from him
be sufficient,

or would you prefer
a notarized statement?

Um, room clerk, please.

Charley, Mannix here.

A friend of mine check in?

Yeah, that's right.
I'd like to talk to him.

When'd he check out?

Yeah, thanks.

(hangs up)

I know.

You were sure he
was there, you just
happened to miss him.

Meanwhile, he'll
be in touch and tell
me everything's okay.

So why don't I take
it for granted?

Sure, baby.

Do me a favor, will you?

If you hear from him,
have him call my office.

Wait a minute.

Is West in trouble?

You seem worried.

Just runs in my family.

I've got an uncle
in the hospital,

worried about
a heart attack

every day of his life
until he was 97.

He finally had one.

Broke his leg last week.

Tripped, walking down the
aisle of a burlesque house.

(chuckles)

Any hints you could give us

as to where he might have gone
would be helpful.

Mr. Wickersham, my father
is stubborn and wonderful

and unpredictable.

I just don't know.

But I'm scared.

Hey, relax, baby.

You're hurting
before you're hit.

(phone buzzes)

Yes?

Thank you.

I'm afraid we, uh, may
have located Mr. West.

Where?

Well, say it, man.
I can guess where he is.

In the morgue.

(sobbing)

DEAN:
Come on, doll,
be a big girl.

JULIE:
I... I can't.

It's not your
father, Julie.

What?

It's Willie Lang.

How was the identification
made, Newman?

Routine preliminary on the basis
of pocket contents and clothing.

MANNIX:
West's coat.

NEWMAN:
Stolen?

Willie'll never tell.

Guess I'll have to ask West...

if I ever find him.

(growling)

How about that?

Nice reception?

Are you having fun?

You can laugh all the way
to Willie Lang's funeral.

(clicks, growling stops)

Poor Willie.

How did it happen?

He came by to see
you last night.

His next known stop
was the morgue,

the price of admission
was a broken back.

It was supposed to
look like an accident.

Now who'd murder Willie?

Does Julie know
you're here?
No.

Well, my last bit of advice
before I retire from the case--

call her.

Why?

Because she worries.

You could have been dead.

She didn't know you
were coming back

to play with a tape recorder
and a stuffed gorilla.

Good-bye.

Now, Mannix, wait!

Now, you know
that, uh...

remote-control gadget
that changes TV channels

when you press a button?

Yeah.

Well, I've rewired the
channel-change gadget

in back of the set.

The remote's outside, in a tree,
pointed towards the set.

Now, if anybody walks in front
of it, the channel changes.

Well, it worked, didn't it?

Did you, uh, give Willie Lang
some of your clothes?

Yeah.

They looked real
good on him.

Mannix here.
Get me Wickersham.

Hey, Lou, West is
here at home.

Yeah, and, uh, you'd better send
over somebody to play nursemaid.

Swanson would
be fine, yeah.

Oh, and, uh, tell him not

to pay any attention
to a gorilla.

Never mind. I'll check
with you later.

You know, I met some
of your friends--

the late Willie Lang,
a lawyer named Quinn...

They've got no connection
with the attempt on my life.

My writing is based
on factual material.

I got research from
Quinn and Lang.

I also spoke to a young lady,
a very interesting young lady.

Nikki Jason.

Hmm, I guess you could
call her research, too.

Now believe me, she's got
no possible connection

with the murder.

(steady, piercing tone)

Stay out of sight.

(hissing)

(hissing stops)

(tube clicks)

Did you see anyone on this
path a minute ago?

I don't know, did I?

Did you see anyone?

Maybe I wasn't looking.

Look, Devlin...
Cool it.

I didn't see anybody.

There's no way you could have
missed anyone on this path.

If you say so.

That means there was
nobody on the path.

Right, Dad?

The label says
"Danger-- poison gas."

Yeah, well I didn't figure
he'd be pumping perfume

through your
air conditioning.

I didn't touch it.

Fingerprints might turn up.

They will.

Mine.

I didn't have time
to use gloves.

Run this through the lab.
When you get a report,

try and find out who sold it
and who bought it, huh?

Quantitative or
qualitative analysis?

Just find out who
put it out, Hayden.

All right.

We'll check it out,
but that's a long shot.

Nobody'd leave
that obvious a trail.

It'll give the computers
something to do,

keep them off the streets.

Did you turn up
anything on Quinn?

I have an appointment with
him in an hour and a half.

I'm assembling
some ammunition.

Want to come along?
I'll meet you.

Willie Lang's killing
is the closest thing
I've got to a lead.

I want to find out
what the police have.

The police came up empty.

They questioned the man
he shared a room with,

but he said he hadn't
seen Willie since
early in the evening.

I'll just skip the police.

And check the
roommate, right?

Well, wouldn't you like
to know his name?

His name is Starkey.
Room 307.

Thanks.

Hello.

Yeah, this is Pete.

Yeah, a guy just went up
to see Starkey.

About 35, tall.

(knocking)

Whatever you're sellin'
I don't want.

(thump)

You bucking for one less leg?

I might be the law.

Show me papers.

I might be... I'm not.

(groaning)

It takes less
energy to talk.

I used up all my talk
with the cops!

I got nothing to say.

Reconsider.

You want to know
about Willie.

This buys all I know.

He was a nice fella.

Now good-bye.

Try harder!

More green stuff.

More talk.

Now what are you
holding back on me?

All right, all right.

A guy don't try,
he don't get.

I ain't living like a king.

Willie ain't living!

What route was he going?
Who did he cross?

He wouldn't hurt a fly.

How'd he make his buck?

You ain't gonna believe this.

He was straight.

He'd run errands,
hustle pool,

maybe take a bet
for a bookie.

Nothing.
He went honest.

You don't collect a bullet
for being honest.

Willie was all Boy Scout.

The night he caught it,
he told me he was going out

to take a friend off the hook.

Put a name
to that friend.

(door opens and closes)

You defended Willie Lang.

What was the charge?

Well, let's just
hold that in abeyance
for a moment.

I'd like to make
a stipulation.

Now, you're an intelligent man,
Mr. Wickersham.

You're an excellent detective,
you have a law degree.

You would undoubtedly

have made an
outstanding attorney

if you had chosen
to practice.

Now, to save time,

would you concede that
I'm not an absolute dolt?

So stipulated.

Then how do you expect me

to believe that you haven't at
least done elementary homework?

(intercom buzzes)

Yes.

Have him wait.

Your associate.

Now, public records

in the courthouse would tell you

where poor Willie went astray.

He was found guilty
of breaking and entering

Nikki Jason's apartment.

Now, last night, you said
she was your client.

Well, actually we met when
she was a prosecution witness.

She was so impressed
with my cross-examination,

she later came to me

when she had a subsequent
minor difference with the law.

What and when?

Privileged.

She wasn't booked.
She has no record.

Willie's been murdered.

We'd like to prevent Dwight West
from joining the list.

Now, I'm fairly sure
you've bent ethics in the past

in a less worthy cause.

Get out!

You've been appointed neither
judge nor keeper of my ethics.

You're right. I'm sorry.
I was out of line.

Your apology is not accepted.

Cheap words quickly said
and at no cost!

Good day, sir!

I got what for.

No luck, huh?

This is not my day.

(gunshots)

(groans)

(machinery whirring)

The deceased:
Starkey, William, age 38.

Height: six-foot two.

Hayden...
Weight: 250...

Hayden, his statistics
aren't vital anymore.

Police record in Kansas City:

armed assault.

Chicago: burglary.
Gary: suspicion of murder.

New York...
Yeah, I'm with you.

Quinn represented Nikki Jason

when she was pulled in
on suspicion of bunco.

Anything else on her?

Right. Thanks, Pat.

I'll do as much for you
sometime.

She's clean on the bunco.

The only other police contact
was several years ago

when a girl she roomed
with was murdered.

The case made quite a splash,
but was never solved.

You probably remember--

the papers called it
the "Scarlet Venus Murder."

I followed that case.

Terrible.
Poor girl,
so pretty.

That was about, uh...

six years ago.

Willie Lang burgled
Nikki Jason's apartment.

When was that?

Six years ago
last September.

(projector clicks)

(projector clicks)

Are you calling West?

Right.

(busy signal)

The line's busy.

Want to bet West's new book is
based on the Scarlet Venus?

Got anything else, Hayden?

HAYDEN:
Montoya claimed that the girl
was going to marry him.

He was released
for lack of evidence.

Where is Montoya now?

Montoya?

You still living
in the mountains?

Yeah, wherever you say.

Sure, two hours is fine.

I left a note for Mannix.

You're not supposed
to go out, Mr. West.

I'll be back.

Let me check with the office.

(door shuts)

(ringing)

(phone line ringing)

Now there's no answer.

I thought you assigned
Swanson to stay with West.

I did. He is... or was.

Well, maybe you
should have assigned

someone to stay
with Swanson!

� �

(knocking)

(knocking)

� �

� �

� �

� �

(engine starts)

See for yourself.
Empty.

She packed everything
and was gone by noon.

You're welcome
to look around.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

(door closes)

(click)

This is Nikki Jason speaking.

If you leave a message,
it will be recorded.

Please speak into the phone
after you hear the double tone.

Thank you.

Nikki, I've got to talk to you.
This is Dean Devlin.

Call me.

Swanson...

Ooh...
Are you all right?

I really caught one.

WICKERSHAM:
Where's West?

He could be the one
that clobbered me.

Maybe your old man's gone ape.

SWANSON:
He ducked out.

I followed. Pow! That's it.

Gee, I never figured your pop
to be such a swinger.

Shut up, Dean!

Did you see who hit you?

No.

(phone rings)

Hello.

Yes, Mannix?

Yeah, I'm at West's. He's gone.

Swanson got slugged.

Lou, can you get me a fix

on the daughter's
boyfriend, Dean Devlin?

Yeah, he's right here.

Hold on.

You left a message
for Nikki Jason.

Why was it so important
for you to see her?

Just wanted to see if she
read any good books lately.

Who's Nikki Jason?

It's a friend of your
father's. I met her

through him.
Why did you call her?

I got my reasons.

That answer your question?

Dean is being
very cute, Joe.

Oh. West left a note
for Mannix, over there.

Now, hold on, there's
a message here.

"Mannix,

"I think I know
who's gunning for me.

"There are just
a couple of loose ends,

"and they'll be tied together

"by the time I meet
Montoya this afternoon

at the observatory.
Dwight West."

Why are you
following me?

I'm looking for
Dwight West.

You came to my cabin.

You're one of them.

One of whom?

She was good.

And you killed her,
you and the rest.

Who else, Montoya?

(groans)

(beep)

(doors rumbling open)

(cry of pain)

(blow landing)

MAN:
Hey!

Nobody's allowed up there!

(beep)

(doors rumbling closed)

Did you find Montoya?

Yeah, and lost him.

He's gone berserk.

Did West meet him?

I don't know.

Montoya could kill him,

or anybody else
connected with this case.

I've got men covering
some of the people,

but we'll try to find West.

Yeah, and I'll try
and find Montoya,

and as long as
he's running loose,

you'd better warn the others.

Right. Good luck, Joe.

Yeah. If I find him,
I'll need it.

I've contacted
the agent

tailing Dean Devlin,
Mr. Wickersham.

Wickersham. Where's Devlin?

You're supposed to be good
enough to stick with him.

Find him. If you need
any help, you can have it.

Keep in touch.

Who's the man assigned
to Orlando Quinn?

Greaves, sir.

I can't contact him.

Try harder!

It's not li...

Greaves, sir.

What about Quinn?

Not in his office
and not expected.

I tried his home, but he's
never there during the day.

MONTOYA:
They'll leave us alone.

I promise.

(car approaching)

(rifle barrel pumps)

Montoya!

I only want to talk to you!

(shot ricochets)

(rifle chamber clicks empty)

Liar!

I don't know anything
about your girl!

You killed her.

All of you!

I'll get you...

the way I got Willie.

The way I'll get...

(choking)

...all of you.

(groans)

(sighs)

Mr. Mannix.

Join me.

I'm waiting for Dwight West.

Why?

Must one have a reason to
wait for one's friends?

What's yours?

Trying to keep him alive.

You know, a man named Montoya
killed Willie Lang yesterday.

(dialing)

Six years after
he accidentally

found out
something

while burgling an apartment.

Mannix here.
Get me Wickersham.

Well, when you find him,
tell him Montoya is dead.

But he did talk. He said...

(cocking hammer)

Look, I'll call
you in two hours.

(receiver rattles)

Your gun, Mr. Mannix.

On the table.

Carefully.

(sets down gun)

Good boy.

Now...

What did Montoya
talk about,

Mr. Mannix?

You, Mr. Quinn.

I'm not sure I believe you.

If you don't believe me,
why the gun?

What did he say?

"'Twas brillig
and the slithy toves

did..."

Behave yourself.

Montoya didn't know
you killed the Scarlet Venus.

That's hardly news,
Mr. Mannix.

He would have throttled
anyone he even thought

would hurt
that girl.

I think you should sit

where I can more
comfortably watch you

while we continue
our discussion.

I told Montoya
that you killed her.

You have a taste for fantasy.

Fact, Mr. Quinn.

Somebody wanted
to get rid of Willie Lang

and West.

Montoya was the loaded gun.

You pulled the trigger.

You could change jobs with West.

Your talent for fiction
at least equals his.

West and I both hit
on the answer.

He was writing a book
about the Scarlet Venus.

He had to
solve the crime

before he could
finish the book.

You knew you'd be marked the
minute he finished that book.

If any part of that were true,

I'd find it necessary
to eliminate you,

as well as West.

You'd better take a look
at the telephone.

(hanging up)

Remember what I
said on the phone?

"I'll call you
in two hours."
That's code.

The switchboard
operator hooks up a tape,

records and then
the call is traced.

Everything
we've said is on tape.

Shut up.

Oh, you could kill me,

but you'd never
get away with it.

You're a smart lawyer, Quinn.

Your best bet is
to try and beat the
Scarlet Venus case.

Now, why don't you
put away that gun?

You haven't got
a chance, Quinn.

The police are moving in
on this house.

Don't you think
you'd be better off

pleading you killed the girl
while temporarily insane?

Insane?

She said she loved me.

I'm not a lovable man.

I'm not the handsomest man.

But I believed her.

Don't move!

I won't stand trial.

I won't be laughed at.

Not by you, not by anyone.

And certainly not
by the girl you killed.

(vehicle doors opening)

I'm afraid you're
too late, Quinn.

(gunshot)

I shouldn't have believed you.

Code...

Recording...

Nonsense.

I thought I...
I was a... clever man.

Once I thought...

I was a... lovable...

man...

Two... fatal mistakes.

(door opening)

I'll call in.

(dialing phone)

Your father's in
no more danger.

Joe?

Get me Lieutenant
Jacobsen, Homicide.

West is on his way.

He called, asked us
to meet him here.

Meet him?

WEST:
Mannix, I solved the case.

I was going
to be killed

because I inadvertently
pointed to the murderer

in the plot of my new
book about Scarlet Venus.

I just got the last bit
of information I needed from

Nikki here.
Yeah.

Now I know who
the killer is.

It's that beach bum,

Dean Devlin.

You may be right.

Why don't you
check it out with Quinn?

JULIE:
Daddy.

Oh, Daddy.

I don't know

what I'm doing here.

Do you?

Going to meet
your uncle at the hospital?

I'd like to meet him.

(theme music playing)