All language subtitles for Mannix s6e03 The Crimson Halo

♪ (theme music playing) ♪

Mannix s6e03 The Crimson Halo

(soft clatter)

(gunshot)

(car door slams)

(tires screeching)

What was that shot?
What happened?

It was nothing. A prowler.

Why don't you go back to bed?

Mr. Mannix?

That's right.

Mr. Otway's expecting you.
Go right on in.

Thank you.

Oh, and this is for you.

What is it?

Your retainer and expenses
for the first three days.

If I decide to take the case,
I'll pick it up on my way out.

Do you know
how much is in there?

Enough to buy my soul
for the next three days?

I've never had much experience
with private investigators.

It's not exactly my line.

Some attorneys, I imagine,
do very well out of it.

But, uh, thankfully,
I have never had to

resort to that kind of thing.

Nothing personal.
Sit down.

Do you consider
yourself competent

to handle a matter
of some, uh, delicacy?

It's always a matter
of some delicacy,

or you'd be talking to
the police, wouldn't you?

Perhaps, perhaps.

Who's the client?

It's a man that you normally

wouldn't, uh, bump into
in your circle.

Which means that your
one and only concern

must be for his reputation.

How trustworthy are you?

On a scale of ten,
I'd say about, uh,

nine and a half.

(chuckles)

Well, I suppose that's as much
as one can hope for nowadays.

Did my secretary arrange
the matter of your fee?

You haven't told me
who the client is.

Mr. Mannix, this
is not one of your

run-of-the-mill
keyhole-peeping operations.

I want a man who will follow
instructions to the letter.

Then you don't want me.

How do you know?

My clients tell me
what they want done,

not how they want it done.

Thanks for letting me audition.

Young man?

Let's have lunch.

Did you read about
last night's shooting?

Which one?

You know, I date back to
a time when a lethal weapon

fired at a human being
was still news,

and not the daily trivia
of urban life.

No, I meant the shot fired at
my client, Dr. Graham Aspinall.

I read about it.

I suppose if all the
knowledgeable people

in the world were to
compile a list of men

least likely to be shot at,

Dr. Aspinall would be
in the top ten.

You have to take
my word for that,

because I'm sure you know
nothing at all about his work.

It's a new surgical technique,
isn't it, for inoperable tumors?

Yeah.

Well, you surprise me.

Yes. It's for tumors previously

considered inoperable,
which brings new hope

to countless thousands
of people, not to mention

the lives that he's already
saved with his own hands.

Now, who in heaven's name,

would want to destroy
a man like that?

The police seem to think
it was a prowler, an addict,

looking for narcotics
in a doctor's home.

It's a very common
occurrence, apparently.

But you don't believe it?

No. I do believe it.

So does Dr. Aspinall.

Then why call me?

Mrs. Aspinall... she's European,

and she's not accustomed to
the American way of life.

So your job will be
to restore her peace of mind,

unless, of course, she's right.

Does, uh, Mrs. Aspinall
suspect anyone?

Well, if she does,
she hasn't confided in me.

Would she have
confided in her husband?

I seriously doubt it.

Then, uh, who would you
suggest I talk to?

Well, now, aren't you
the man who refuses

to be told how to do his job?

Good day, Mr. Mannix.

Did my secretary arrange
for your expense account?

Yes.

Good. Take care of the check.

(birds chirping)

MANNIX:
Mrs. Aspinall?

My name is Mannix.

You asked Mr. Otway
to hire a private investigator.

This is a very
delicate operation.

Please forgive me for a moment.

There.

Have you, uh,
any reason to think

someone might want to
kill your husband?

Of course not.

Well, then you don't
really need me.

But how can I be sure?

Exactly what is it
you would like me to do?

Well, I... I don't know.

You could maybe question
some of my husband's associates.

Well, you just don't go
digging into people's lives,

unless you've got
a pretty good reason.

They hate him.

Who?

People for whom he
sacrificed himself...

sacrificed me.

Why would any
of them want him dead?

Jealousy, rivalry, revenge.

What do I know
about motives for murder?

You've made a pretty good start.

What are some of the names
that go with these motives?

My husband would
never forgive me.

Well, now, would you
forgive yourself

if someone killed him?

My husband is a great man.

Selfless, brilliant, dedicated.

Admired the world over.

How would it sound if I
started retailing cheap gossip

about his personal habits,
his egotism, his women?

Mrs. Aspinall...

...why do you put up with it?

As his wife, I am somebody.

If I divorced him,
made a scandal,

he would still be a great man.

But what would I be?

A pitiful, rejected,
middle-aged woman.

Unless you became
his moderate widow.

What is that supposed to mean?

A moment ago you asked me
to look for motives.

Yes.
Well, just for argument's sake,

wouldn't you say you had one?

I?

To hang onto the status,
your self-respect?

Get out.

Mr. Mannix, do you want names?

Dr. Felix St. Ives.

Why don't you question him?

Who's he?

His disciple, his shadow.

The only person
with whom my husband shares

his innermost thoughts,
the man who would take over

the institute in case
of Graham's death.

All right.

Felix St. Ives.

Anyone else?

Charlene Tallifer,
his new research assistant.

Except that's not
all she does for him.

How do you know?

My husband is too
proud for subterfuge.

Why would she want to kill him?

I didn't say she would,
but she had a boyfriend.

An intern... Dana...
something or other.

Where do I find him?

In whatever special purgatory
is reserved for jealous lovers.

Dr. Aspinall?

My name is Mannix.

That supposed to
mean something to me?

I'm a private investigator.

Your attorney retained me...
Noah Otway.

How did you recognize me?

Well, I can always
tell a surgeon.

He's the one with
the clean fingernails.

What does Otway want?

He wanted me to make some
inquiries

about the shooting last night.

Otway is a toothless old woman

with an obscene
lust for melodrama.

He thinks highly of you, too.

Or was it really
my wife's idea to hire you?

Oh, never mind.

I'm content to suffer
the pangs of uncertainty.

You're convinced that shot
fired at you last night

had nothing to do
with you personally?

I surprised some
unfortunate addict

who was looking for drugs.

I don't believe anyone
hates or loves me enough

to take a shot at me.

That's a disgraceful
admission, isn't it?

Mind if I talk to
some of your associates?

Certainly, I mind.

What are you afraid
I'll find out?

That I'm an arrogant,
cantankerous, self-important,

greedy, glory-hustling
megalomaniac.

That I browbeat my subordinates,
debauch my female assistants,

claim sole credit for
anyone's discoveries,

and that I would commit any act,

from high treason
to indecent exposure,

to knock off a Nobel Prize.

And once I found that out,
what do I do with it?

Whatever it is you fellas do.

Put on a false mustache,
tap phones,

dog footsteps, interrogate
people in the dead of night,

make passes at beautiful
female suspects,

look down your noses
at the police.

I'll bet I know
your favorite author.

Don't bet on
anything concerning me.

Good day, Mr. Mannix.

You are persistent, aren't you?

Just trying to make a dollar.

Oh, what's Otway paying you?

More than I'm worth so far.

So far is apt to be
as far as you'll get.

Possibly.

Oh, I know how it is.

How what is?

A touching eagerness
to build some sort of a case.

Get a little more
mileage out of a good client.

Is that how you run your shop?

You've got a bad mouth, Mannix.

It gets me there,
and it gets me back.

One of these days it may not
get you all the way back.

May I question your associates?

Mr. Mannix,
you're becoming a pest.

Goes with the territory.

I told you there's
nothing more to ask about.

Think that was
a coincidence, too?

I don't know.

That's what makes
life interesting.

You all right?
Very well, thank you.

You weren't supposed
to park your car here today.

There were signs up.

Well, I'm a creature of habit.
I always park here.

I'd, uh, like to talk to the man
who's operating that crane.

Nobody's operating it.

He's on a lunch break.

If you'll drop me off
in town, Mr. Mannix,

I'll be glad to buy you a drink.
You look like you need one.

If I ever needed an operation,
you'd be my man.

But I'm not so sure
I'd want to drink with you.

Thank you.

Now can we talk
about your associates?

I suppose you think you've
got me at a weak moment.

Well, it hadn't occurred to me

that you were capable
of human weakness.

(laughs)

You'd be surprised.

All right. Go on.
Interrogate them all.

Dig deep enough,
and you'll discover

untold depths of depravity,
professional rivalries,

heights of human jealousy
worthy of Othello.

But murder?

No.

No, all our training,
all our mental processes

are directed toward
saving lives.

What about your patients?

Why would a patient
want to kill me?

The only ones who ever
come to me have already been

written off as dead
by their own doctors.

Inoperable tumors?

There are no inoperable tumors.

Any intern can remove a tumor.

The trick is to do it
without killing the patient.

And you can?

I have devised
a kind of strategy,

invented certain instruments,

a way of approaching certain
tumors no one else will touch.

I succeed about half the time.

Now, who'd want to
kill me for that?

Disappointed relative.

Say, could I take
a look at your files?

I'm afraid not.

I don't suppose they go
in much for professional ethics

in your line of country.

But we plumbers do have to be
just a little more discreet.

Yeah, I know.

Uh, we private eyes have
this terrible reputation for

kickbacks, fee-splitting and
gypping insurance companies.

(laughs)

(clears throat)

All right.
You can start with this one.

Charlene Tallifer,
my research assistant.

I suppose it was the hausfrau
who steered you in my direction.

Who do you mean by that?

Oh, you know who. Gerta.

Poor, dear Mrs. Aspinall.

Not that it matters.
I wouldn't blame her if she did.

Thank you.

If I ever became
a gardening freak

who couldn't even
talk to her husband,

I hope I have the good grace to
step in front of a fast train.

I don't ever want to outstay
my welcome with any man.

You're wise beyond your years.

Bull.

I just saw what
happened to my mother,

none of which interests
you in the slightest.

What you want to hear
is who do I suspect

would want to kill my lord
and master, right?

Question did occur to me.

Answer: nobody.

Nobody in his right mind.

How about someone
in their wrong mind?

Like who?

Well, I heard something
about a disposable boyfriend.

Dana?

Try to kill someone?

(laughs)

If he tried to crush a snail,
he'd sprain an ankle.

Your boss must know somebody
who could fire a gun

without going into shock.

Who'd stand to benefit
by his death?

His second in command?

Felix St. Ives?

You want to hang something
on Felix, use your own rope.

What makes you think
I want to hang something on him?

Well, it's rather obvious,
isn't it? Poor jerk.

Oh, you feel sorry for him, too?

I don't feel anything for him.
He made his choice.

Being Dr. Aspinall's assistant?

That's a pretty good
choice, I'd say.

What was the alternative?

He was engaged to
a lovely English girl.

Her father even got him a
research grant at Cambridge.

Graham, of course,
didn't want him to leave.

So St. Ives stayed. Why?

That was before my time.

But you know the story?

Cheap gossip.

But not too cheap for you
to dangle in front of me.

Well, what's the difference?

They say... they say
Graham himself moved in

and got a little something going
with the English girl.

Felix couldn't last more than
a round or two with the champ,

so he just threw in the towel.

And, uh...
what happened to the girl?

She suddenly
went back to England.

Later we heard that
she committed suicide.

(romantic music plays)

Yet St. Ives kept right on
working for Dr. Aspinall?

Hmm.

Sounds pretty sick, doesn't it?

Then again, Felix is
such a cold fish.

Unless...

Unless he's biding his time,
his moment for revenge.

Don't put words in my mouth.

That's what you think, isn't it?

All right, Mr. Mannix.

Graham was planning to retire
from the institute this year,

go into private practice and
start making some real bread--

leaving his shoes all warm
for Felix St. Ives to step into.

I talked him out of it.

You must have been pretty
persuasive.

I can be.

Very persuasive.

How do you feel about
the girl who killed herself?

I never knew her.

What if Dr. Aspinall dropped
you the way he did her?

There's no man in the world

who could make me pull the plug
on myself.

Maybe not.

Wouldn't you be just a little
bit tempted to, uh...

Try and kill Graham?

(laughs)

No.

(knocking at door)

(banging at door)

Would you mind?

(banging continues)

Dana, this is Mr. Mannix.

Mr. Mannix, this is Dana Croft,

the man you described as my
disposable boyfriend.

Now, doesn't he have "suspect"
written all over him?

Who's he?
The latest scalp on your belt?

(door closes)

He's a private detective.

I want to talk to you alone.

Did you hear what I said?

Let's go for a drive.

Dana, the carnival's over.

It's been over for months, and
we have nothing to talk about.

There's still plenty I've got to
talk about. You...

This is a private conversation.
Get lost.

I said beat it.

Sounds to me like the lady
wants you to leave.

(whispers):
Please.

We're not through yet.

You're not exactly seeing me
at my best tonight.

What is your best?

Where do I find him?

Are you really trying
to set up Dana as a suspect?

I'm wide open for suggestions.

My money's on the crown prince,
Dr. Felix St. Ives.

You're what they call
a private eye.

Hmm...

could we, uh, talk somewhere?

About what?

The possibility of someone
trying to kill Dr. Aspinall.

No need for privacy.
I'm among friends.

You don't mind discussing the
girl you used to be engaged to?

No secret about her.

We broke off.

She killed herself.

Cause and effect?
I'd have no way of knowing.

There wasn't any death bed
letter.

You mind telling me
why you broke up?

Why do people die?

'Cause they can't help it.

Dr. Aspinall had nothing
to do with it?

Why don't you ask him?

I'm interested in your opinion.

In my opinion,

Graham Aspinall is
the greatest man in his field.

I certainly don't intend
to blame him for the death

of a girl who probably would
have killed herself

sooner or later.

You don't think he
deliberately encouraged her

to fall in love with him?

Why should he?

To retain his right hand.

I wouldn't put it past him.
He runs on that kind of fuel.

Hmm.

You don't hold any grudge?

I'm not a saint, Mr. Mannix.

I have feelings,
but they're not as important

as the work I'm doing here.

Or the prospect of stepping
into Dr. Aspinall's shoes?

Could be a long time from now.

Unless somebody killed him.

I suppose that would speed
things up a bit, wouldn't it?

Can you think of anyone else
who'd benefit from his death

as much as you would?

Logically, I'm your
number one suspect.

Perhaps your only suspect.

But people don't always kill
according to logic, do they?

(door opens)

Mr. Mannix,
you really believe somebody's

trying to kill Dr. Aspinall?

I don't know, uh, Gloria.

What do you believe?

Aha.

If I told you that,
you'd know something.

You think I'm wasting my time
around here?

Oh, just the opposite.

Maybe we can discuss
it over dinner.

Do you mind, Gloria?

Excuse me.

(door closes)

Peggy?

Want to check this?

Uh, you don't need to stick
around any longer.

That's what you think.

I'm doing the minutes at the
last three PTA meetings.

How's it going?

Swimmingly, except
there's no water in the pool.

Any leads?

Yeah, nothing but leads--

all going in different
directions.

Yeah, this is fine.

Maybe there's no case, Joe.

Oh, there's a case all right.

I was with Dr. Aspinall

when somebody aimed a ton
of cement at his head.

(phone rings)

Mr. Mannix's office.

Would you tell Mr. Mannix that
Mr. Otway must see him at once?

At his office?

No.

At the Roman baths
in 15 minutes.

Would you put
Mr. Otway on, please?

I'm sorry.
He's already left for the baths.

Excuse me.
I'm looking for Mr. Otway.

Oh, yes, sir.

Uh, he's in the sauna over
there, across the rotunda.

Thank you.

(car door shuts)

(tires screeching)

Peggy, get me Otway.

Don't have to.

Why not?

He's waiting in your office.

Mr. Mannix.

Surprised to see me, Mr. Otway?

Why?

Your secretary called
about an hour ago

and said you were waiting
at the Roman baths.

My secretary?

She's ill in bed,

and the police department closed
the Roman baths a month ago.

What are you doing here?

Well, Mr. Mannix,
you are off the case.

And here is your severance pay.

You're canceling
the investigation?

We have decided that there is
nothing more to investigate.

I'm sorry.

Someone just tried to kill me.

Really?

Well, I suppose a man
in your line of work

does make his share of enemies.

It's been a pleasure, sir.

Good night.

(door closes)

(knocking)

Yes?

Mr. Mannix is here
to see you, Graham.

I suppose you've already
told him I was in?

I convinced her
it was important.

Important to you?

Uh, you're the client,
Dr. Aspinall, not me.

Really? Then why did someone
tonight try to kill you?

How did you know that?

You told Otway.
He told me.

Would you like some coffee,
Mr. Mannix?

Make it instant.

He won't be here long enough
for you to brew

a pot of regular,
will you, Mr. Mannix?

Thank you just the same,
Mrs. Aspinall.

Otway says he's dropping
the investigation.

Is that a fact?

Didn't he consult you about it?

What for?

Then you're satisfied
to have me off the case?

If my lawyer feels there's no
basis for it any longer...

You're willing to bet
your life on that?

Mr. Mannix, if you're angling
for another job...

It's a job only as long as my
clients are being shot at.

When they start shooting at me,

I'm not working
for money any longer.

I'm working for blood.

Well, good luck.

And if you should ever need
a bullet removed

from a difficult spot...

You remind me of the way my
doctor defines minor surgery.

It's surgery done
on other people.

Oh, by the way, uh, your dues
are paid until midnight

in case you change your mind.

(door closes)

Graham, you shouldn't
have sent him away.

You know you shouldn't have.

Mr. Mannix?

Gloria Paget.

Remember me?

How could I forget?

I've got to see you.

About what?

Just get here.

Dr. Aspinall's office.

Would you make an effort,
please, Mr. Mannix?

It's very important.

I gather it can't wait
until morning.

By morning,
someone could be dead.

All right.

(knock at door)

Come in, Mr. Mannix.

Gloria.

You wanted to know what
I believe, right?

Right.

Well, in my opinion,
for what it's worth--

and you can take it
or leave it--

I'd say the person
you're looking for

is one of Dr. Aspinall's
surgical patients.

Well, I asked
the doctor about that.

He pretty much convinced me
that there was nothing in it.

Did he tell you about File 201?

A patient?

That's the way we have them in
our file.

No name, just a number.

Could I, uh, take a look
at that file?

It's locked up in
Dr. Aspinall's office.

Gloria, why would somebody like
that want to kill the only man

who might be able
to save his life?

(laughs)

Oh, Mr. Mannix,
you're so square.

Round me off.

Well, the patients we get
are strictly cases of

"abandon hope all
ye who enter here."

And you think somebody might
want one of them not to recover?

Well, some of them
are very wealthy,

very powerful, like File 201.

Now suppose somebody felt
that even a 50/50 chance

was too good for him.

Otherwise, why just
a number, right?

Unless he was afraid that
somebody would find out.

And you've never seen this file.

Uh-uh.

But you could get it for me if
you really put your mind to it?

If Dr. Aspinall found out,
I'd lose my job.

Gloria, you didn't call me
all the way out here

at this time of night
not to show me.

No.

Why are you willing
to risk your job?

I'll tell you why.

Because Graham Aspinall doesn't
know who his real friends are.

Not all those people hanging
around his neck.

Oh, sure, he uses them and...
and steps on them,

'cause they don't
truly love him.

But you do?

At least I'm not
ashamed to admit it.

Does he know how you feel?

When the time comes, he'll know.

Let me try it.

Somebody's tampered
with this lock.

Oh, that's impossible.

Who else knows about File 201?

(door closes)

Shh.

(gun thudding on floor)

ASPINALL: The reason your key
wouldn't fit, Gloria, is because

I had the lock changed
this afternoon

when I noted your deep interest
in Mr. Mannix's investigation.

And I don't appreciate
being disturbed

at this hour of the night.

(door closes)

You're no longer on the case,
Mr. Mannix.

I could have you arrested
as a common burglar.

It would probably cost you
your license.

Probably.

What made you poke around
in here?

Your secretary had a notion
there was some connection

between one of your patients
and the attempts on your life.

My secretary
is a romanticizing imbecile,

and I should have fired her
long ago.

Who is File 201?

He's got nothing whatever to do
with this case.

Then you admit there is a case?

My lawyer doesn't.

That's why he fired you,
isn't it?

Is it?

Whatever the reason.

Maybe he decided
you were incompetent.

It's of no interest to me.

Thanks for your concern, Felix,

but Mr. Mannix
is quite harmless.

Little overeager
to hang onto a client,

but there's no real harm in him,
is there, Mannix?

Who is File 201?

Mannix, you're beginning
to bore me.

Maybe you'd prefer the police
to look into this.

Blackmail?

Professional ethics.

(chuckling):
Oh, you flatter yourself.

That's better
than no flattery at all.

File 201 is
the investment counselor

for a financial empire.

You expect to save him?

He's the same as everyone else
I cut open,

no better
than an even-money chance.

What if he dies?

Financial chaos, I suppose.

But then,
it's not his problem anymore.

And, uh, what if
somebody wants him to die?

Well, why drop cement on me?

Why not kill him directly?

Cut out the middle man.

Maybe because it'd be too easy
for the police

to figure out who would benefit
from File 201's death.

If you're killed,

they'd get tied up in knots
investigating that,

and your patient would die
of natural causes.

Or is there someone else
who could save him?

(sighs)

No, not yet.

I am training other people
in my surgical technique,

but before they're ready,
my man would be dead.

Who is he?

(sighs)

I can't tell you.

(door closes)

Felix?

Yes, Graham?

Since when do you carry a gun?

(doorbell rings)

(clatter nearby)

(footsteps receding)

(man groans)

(groans)

(gasps)

(gasps)

You all right?

Yeah.

I'll get you the police.

No. Just give me a little water
here, will you?

Oh, my.

(whispers):
Thank you.

I better get you a doctor.

No.

Who were they?

Clients of a client.

What does that mean?

Remember you're not working
for me anymore.

Well, this one's on the house.

Uh-huh.

What were they after?

(sighs)
My cash, jewels.

I don't know. The idiots.

I don't believe you.

Well, I couldn't care less.

What brought you here?

I was hoping you could help me
convince Aspinall

to tell me about a patient
known as File 201.

Why do you want
to know about that?

It might help explain
the attempts on Aspinall's life.

Who gave you that idea?

His secretary.

She's a hysterical woman.

She's hopelessly in love

with a man who doesn't even know
she exists.

And you're convinced File 201
has nothing to do with it?

I didn't say that.

Then you'll ask him?

No.
Why not?

I don't have to.

You know File 201?

I am File 201.

That's all right.

(sighing)

Why the masquerade?

Well, I've been handling the
investments of a group of men

who get an indecently large
input of inconvenient cash.

A criminal syndicate?

I don't ask them
how they make their money.

What I do
for them is legitimate.

We've grown
into quite an empire.

But I keep all the facts and the
figures right here in my head.

They found out
you were terminally ill

and might not survive surgery.

If that were the case,

then my clients would have
absolutely nothing

to worry about.

And that is why
they tried to kill Dr. Aspinall,

because he is my one hope
of staying alive.

That's what's so nice
about being legitimate.

Don't be frivolous.

I insured myself,
or I thought I did,

as I made a tape

which recorded every single
financial transaction

that I'd made for them.

I told them
that I'd made that tape,

and I told them that that tape
would automatically go

to the district attorney,
but only if I were murdered.

I thought I was safe.

Till someone took a shot
at Dr. Aspinall.

Yes. So I convinced
Mrs. Aspinall to hire you.

You see, I had to find out

if it was one of the doctor's
chickens coming home to roost,

or the syndicate out to get me.

When is your surgery?

The day after tomorrow.

If I don't die
from lack of sleep before then.

Where are the tapes?

Well-hidden,
but not here in this house.

Who knows where they are...
in case you don't survive?

Nobody.

What are you going
to do about it?

I don't know.

What can I do?

You can tell me where they are.

Suppose they found out.

Have you any idea
what your life would be worth?

Not very much.

And you'd still risk it?

Part of the job.

All right.

You go get the tapes.

Maybe this'll buy me a seat
in heaven.

♪ ♪

(clatter)

(grunting)

(grunting)

(grunting)

Oh, excuse me, Nurse.

How is Mr. Otway doing?

Who?

Mr. Otway.

We have no patient by that name.

Well, how about File 201?

You'll have to talk
to Dr. Aspinall.

Where is the doctor?

Still in surgery.

(sighs)

Sorry, Doctor.

Mr. Mannix?

You look like
you might have whacked

a few tennis balls in your time.

A few.

It's the one thing

that gets all of this
out of mind.

It's therapy,
especially after I've lost one.

What I'm driving at is,
I thrive on competition.

How about playing hooky
from investigating

for a couple of hours
and hitting a few with me?

I'd like that.

I'll meet you over at the courts
in about an hour.

I've got to drop this off
at the DA's first.

What's that?

A ticket to heaven.