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♪ (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.