Original subtitles

♪ (theme music playing) ♪

(gunshots ricocheting)

(gunshots continue)

(gunshots continue)

Hey, Don!

(gunshots continue) Don!

(gunshots ricocheting)

Hey, Don!

(horn honking)

(gunshots continue)

(honking continues) (gunshots continue)

Hey, Don!

(honking stops)

(horn honking) Hey, Don!

Hey, Dave, come on, let's get him down.

Mannix s6e12 Lost Sunday

(gunshots continue)

Hey, Don.

Come on, put down the gun, Don.

Hey, Don, old buddy!

It's me and Dave! Take it easy, Don.

This ain't Vietnam, man; that's all behind you.

Take it easy, Don.

Now, let's... let's have the hardware.

Come on.

It's Sunday; nobody's around.

Okay, come on.

Come on, we'll take you home.

What is this?

Looks like Vic Henshaw.

Guess he fell, huh, Dave?

Yeah, he fell, all right.

But he was shot first.

Hey, old buddy.

You really did it this time.

♪ ♪

(doorbell rings)

Miss Henshaw?

I'm Joe Mannix.

Oh, please come in, Mr. Mannix. Thank you.

Would you like some coffee?

Uh, no, thank you. I had breakfast on the plane.

Okay.

It was good of you to come all the way up here.

Los Angeles is pretty far to go

to hire a private investigator, Miss Henshaw.

I didn't want a local detective.

Why not?

You read the newspapers?

Yes.

Your brother drove out

to the West Rock gravel plant on Sunday.

He was climbing around on one of the rigs and fell.

Coroner's verdict was accidental death.

Evidently, your brother had been drinking.

That simply isn't true.

How do you know? Because...

if he'd had even one drink,

he wouldn't have been able to go out to the plant or drive a car.

He'd have been lying ill in the street or in a bar

or wherever he'd had that drink.

And why do you say that?

Ten days ago, Vic went down to San Francisco.

He didn't tell anyone he was going,

but it was to see a doctor.

The doctor told Vic he was a diabetic,

and that if he had any liquor it would be like taking poison.

Did the company know about his condition?

Nobody knew.

(sighs) Vic was afraid Mr. Wilkerson would fire him.

He owns West Rock.

Is there anybody else, beside yourself,

that, uh, Vic might have told?

(sighs) Well, maybe Angie McCall.

She runs a diner near the plant.

Angie and Vic were...

Well, they were very close.

Miss Henshaw...

can you think of anyone who would want your brother dead?

No.

Vic never had any trouble in town, or any enemies.

But I know he wasn't drunk,

and I know somebody's lying.

Here's the autopsy report, Mannix.

You can check it out yourself.

How much, uh, alcohol did the postmortem show?

Digby says about two-tenths of one percent.

Now, that ain't a buzz, that's drunk.

Digby being the coroner.

Right.

Did Vic Henshaw have a reputation as a drinker?

No, I can't say he did.

But he must have been hitting the booze pretty good

Sunday morning-- we found a fifth of bourbon

in the back of his car almost empty.

The coroner, uh, Mr. Digby,

lists the specific cause of death as a broken neck.

You fall 30 feet, you're a cinch to break something.

Look, Mannix, I know the Henshaw girl's upset,

but facts are facts.

Vic fell off that rig, 30 feet,

and he got hung up on a bulldozer,

and that's all she wrote.

You want some coffee?

Uh, no, thanks.

Did you find the body, Sheriff?

No.

I went fishing Sunday morning.

Couple of my deputies brought Vic in.

Pete LeMaster. Dave Benedict.

Miss Henshaw says she told you

her brother was a diabetic and couldn't drink.

"Couldn't" ain't the same as "didn't."

I checked this all out with my deputies, Mannix.

There was nobody else out there at the plant Sunday

when Vic went off that rig.

The fall and the booze, that's what killed him.

(loud mechanical rumbling)

(mechanical rumbling continues)

(mechanical rumbling continues)

You lose something, mister?

Has somebody been using this place for a shooting gallery?

What?

These were fired from an Army M16.

What's it to you, mister?

I'm a friend of Vic Henshaw's sister.

My name is Mannix.

I'm Angelo Rodez.

Foreman.

Them shells don't mean nothing.

One of the boys was just scaring off crows, that's all.

Yeah, I imagine a few crows could wrack up this plant.

Tell me, uh, do you have any idea just how Vic fell?

Fell off that plank.

Were you here? No.

The plant is closed on Sunday.

I'd like to take a look around up there.

There ain't nobody allowed up there without permission.

How do I get that?

That comes directly from Mr. Wilkerson.

Okay.

What did you say your name was?

Mannix.

Stay put.

(mechanical rumbling continues)

Hey, you! Come down from there!

Hey, Tony!

Stop that wise guy and turn him back!

Okay, buddy, that's as far as you go.

Follow me.

Why?

You got something to hide?

Come on.

Look, Mannix, I don't know what you're after,

but let me tell you one thing--

stay away from this plant.

Thank you.

Bye now.

(door opens)

(door closes)

Eggs aren't getting any hotter.

Did you, uh, hear anything unusual Sunday?

Like what?

Gunfire?

Where did you get those?

The plant, the base of the tower near where Vic fell.

Oh, God.

What happened Sunday, Angie?

Vic was sitting here.

I was fixing him a burger.

All of a sudden, we heard these shots.

Vic got up and said...

"He-He's out there.

He's out there again with that gun."

You knew who he meant?

Don Wilkerson.

He was always going down to the plant on Sundays

with that rifle he brought home from Vietnam.

He'd sit out there on that tower

and shoot at nothing at all-- ghosts maybe.

Every time it happened, Vic would have to go

down to the plant, take the gun away.

He'd done it five, six times, Vic said.

Did you tell the sheriff?

You know who Don Wilkerson's father is?

He owns the gravel plant, doesn't he?

He owns this county, and I make my living here.

Angie, uh... suppose Vic didn't fall.

Suppose he was shot, murdered.

Look, Mister...

I done my crying for Vic and for me.

I'm, uh, working for Joyce Henshaw.

I'm a private investigator.

And...

she doesn't believe that Vic's death

was like they said, an accident?

No.

And you think Don Wilkerson shot him

from out there on the tower?

Could be.

Does Joyce know that?

Well, if she does, she didn't hear it from me.

Well, you'd better tell her, Mister, and fast.

Why?

Because she's getting hitched to Don, that's why.

But that's crazy.

Why should Don have shot my brother?

Well, he was there on Sunday on the tower with an M16.

Didn't Angie McCall tell you

Don and I are going to be married?

Yes, she did.

Did Vic object?

He didn't object.

He just wanted me to wait until...

Until what?

Until Don was better.

And how about Don?

Did he resent Vic's attitude?

A little, I guess, but he wouldn't kill Vic because of it.

He hated killing, he hated war, he hated weapons.

Then why take an M16 out to the plant?

Why fire it? At the gravel!

Yeah, maybe, maybe.

All right, let's suppose Don does hate weapons.

Let's suppose that this hatred builds up in him,

and when it does, the only release he has

is in the thing he hates-- a gun.

Now, do you think that could possibly be what happens to him?

It could be.

All right, now let's say that Sunday,

this feeling begins to build up in him again.

He goes up to the plant, he starts shooting,

and he goes into kind of a trance.

He thinks he's back in Vietnam, in the bush.

Vic walks up the ramp, he shouts.

All Don hears is a voice, a voice in a nightmare.

He spins and he fires.

No!

He couldn't have.

Not in a normal state,

but, Joyce, he wasn't in a normal state.

Don couldn't have been there.

He would have said something.

Have you talked to him since Sunday?

No, he's been ill.

All right, let's go.

Where?

I think it's about time somebody asked Don Wilkerson

what he was doing on Sunday afternoon.

Don.

Are you all right?

Yeah, the doctor said to stay in bed for a few days.

You okay?

Yes, just fine.

This is Mr. Mannix, a private detective.

He wants to talk to you.

About what?

Vic Henshaw's accident.

Don, did you take your gun out to the plant Sunday?

No.

Where were you on Sunday?

About what time?

Oh, say, uh, between 12:00 noon and 2:00 p.m.

I was here with my dad watching the football game.

Yeah, what game was that?

The 49ers. Would you like the score?

We sat through to the final whistle together.

Joyce, what's this all about?

(sighs)

I asked Mr. Mannix to find out how Vic really died.

Why?

They said Vic was drunk.

I... didn't believe it.

Mannix found three empty shells

out of that old M16 of yours at the plant.

Oh... and you thought that...

I-I didn't know what to think.

That's why she hired me.

Don has been out at the plant on Sunday before with his rifle,

and he has fired it, but not last Sunday.

Those shells must be from before.

Angie McCall, uh, heard gunfire

at the plant Sunday.

Hunters.. it's deer season.

I think you'd better go back to bed, son.

I'll take care of Joyce, Mr. Mannix.

Yes, I am feeling kind of rocky.

I'm sorry, honey.

I'm sorry.

Sorry.

Now, we don't need detectives to solve our problems, Joyce.

I just didn't know what to do.

Well, next time you come to me, hmm?

I'm the complaint department in this family.

You promise?

Yes.

Good.

Now, I think you'd better tell Mr. Mannix

that we don't need his services any longer.

You were.. you were wrong, weren't you?

Not if Don was lying about where he was Sunday.

Don wouldn't lie.

I've got three empty shells,

I've got a witness that heard gunfire,

and I've got a diabetic

who supposedly put away a bottle of liquor.

If Don's lying, I'm lying.

That would keep it in the family, wouldn't it?

(door opens)

(door closes)

Anybody home?

MAN: Be with you.

Mr. Digby?

That's me. My name is Mannix.

What can I do for you?

I'd like a little information about Vic Henshaw's autopsy.

What information you after?

Who did the postmortem?

I did.

Where?

Right here.

Did ballistics check the bullets you took out of the body?

What is this, Halloween?

Who told you Vic Henshaw was shot?

These are from an M16 that, uh, Don Wilkerson owns.

I found them out at the plant yesterday.

Look, I filed my report.

There was nothing in Vic Henshaw's body but broken bones.

And two-tenths of one percent alcohol?

Yeah, that's right.

Digby, Vic Henshaw's a diabetic,

and I've got witnesses that'll testify to that in court.

What are you after, Mannix?

I told you... the slugs that killed Vic Henshaw.

Can you prove he was shot?

No, but you can, Digby.

Well, how?

Exhume the body.

Uh, get out of here, Mannix.

I can get a judicial order to have the grave opened.

Not by any judge in this county, you can't.

Well, I'll just have to get an authorization

from Vic Henshaw's sister.

And you know, there's not a judge around

that's gonna turn that down.

(door closes)

Problem, Officer?

This your car?

That's right.

Okay, let's have your license.

Dave, he give you any trouble?

You frisk him yet?

Not yet.

Okay, hands on the trunk, Mister.

This a pinch?

It ain't a wedding, pal.

What's the charge?

Hit and run.

Went by me doing almost 70.

Almost took off the whole side of the car.

How's Gordon?

Busted arm.

Who's Gordon?

That's the fellow you knocked down

at the crosswalk at Fifth and Elm.

So I knocked Gordon down and I,

uh, smashed in the side of your car.

If that's the case, how come there's no damage on my car?

There's damage, pal.

$210.22.

Comb... wallet.

The, uh, sheriff know you're booking me?

Wristwatch.

What about my phone call?

Where's your dime?

Dress him.

Hey, Sweeney.

Fish on the line.

Well, what do you know?

A city boy.

Hey, send for the hairdresser.

We got us a city slicker.

What'd you get busted for?

Snatching purses from old ladies?

Hanging around the girls' gym at the high school?

I asked you a question.

Are you deaf?

I heard you.

Looks like I'm gonna have to educate City Boy.

(door opens)

(keys jangling in lock)

How'd you like that hot sun out there, Billy?

(keys jingling, door squeaking)

(door squeaking)

(lock clicking)

You got a beef, Mannix?

What did you think of them cement bags?

That's good exercise, ain't it, Billy?

Leave him alone.

Well, City Boy's got something to say.

You got a college degree, huh?

Well, the one that got educated today was Billy.

Ain't that right, Billy boy?

I said leave him alone.

You all right?

Yeah.

It's nothing.

Don't backtalk Sweeney.

He used to be a pro, and he'll ride you into a fight.

That's what they want.

Who are they?

I heard they're fixing it so you'll leave here in a box.

Watch yourself.

Thanks, Billy.

Billy?

Billy!

Yeah?

(quietly): I want you to do something for me.

Shh. They can throw you in the hole for talking.

I want you to ask to see your lawyer.

Have him call my office in Los Angeles.

Joe Mannix.

I've got all the trouble I can handle.

Get somebody else.

There isn't anybody else.

Shut up, or you'll get us both killed.

(clattering)

That's lesson one, City Boy.

(door squeaks open, keys jingling)

DEPUTY: Mannix!

You're not finished.

May I speak to you, Mr. Benedict?

What do you want, Billy?

Like to see my lawyer today.

Sure.

Billy, your lawyer's here.

(door closes)

He don't look dumb, does he, Pete?

No, no, looks real bright.

But trying to get a fellow inmate to sneak out a message--

that's dumb, ain't it, Pete?

Yeah, that's real dumb.

I'm supposed to get a hearing within 48 hours.

That a fact? That's a law.

What about Mannix's hearing, Pete?

Clerk spilled coffee all over the booking ledger.

Wiped out the date of arrest.

Yeah, but we're gonna study it out,

determine what the date ought to be.

Okay, you'll get your hearing within 48 hours of that.

That's all.

Is there anything else, Dave?

No.

Come on.

(door squeaking)

What happened, Billy?

They knew, man.

It was a setup.

Looks like they worked you over pretty good.

I'm sorry, man.

I really tried.

Yeah, I know, Billy.

I-I...

I'm sorry I got you into this.

What's the matter?

Ain't you, uh, hungry today, City Boy?

No.

You know, you ain't had a square meal

since you checked into this hotel.

Looks to me like you're gonna starve.

(clamoring shouts)

(grunting)

(grunts)

(shouting continues)

(cheering, scattered applause)

(punches landing)

(shouting continues)

(shouting stops)

Sit down.

Sit down, I said!

Put him in his cell.

(door slams shut)

What are you gonna do now, stomp me?

Shh, quiet.

Ah, they like quiet executions here, huh?

I'm letting you out of here, man.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Look, these keys fit the back doors.

Now, all you got to do is make it

across the yard and over the fence.

The woods'll cover you to the county line.

Here, I got a couple of bucks.

(sighs)

When do I, uh... get shot in the back?

Halfway over that fence?

All the guards and the inmates

are out in back on a work detail.

MANNIX: Is this, uh, the last part of my education, Sweeney?

Look, man, I got in too deep.

I figured they just wanted

to ride you a little bit, like Billy,

but I found out they want to kill you.

I want no part of that.

I ain't killing nobody.

Who are they?

Benedict and LeMaster.

Why didn't you report this to the sheriff?

The sheriff may be in on this, too, for all I know.

Look, that cement truck'll be pulling

into that yard any minute.

And they're gonna send for you

and make you unload it in the sun.

And they'll put you in the hole.

And if you don't drop dead today, you will tomorrow.

Come on, man. Let me have it right here and go.

Thanks, Sweeney.

Oh, uh, do me a favor, will you?

Yeah?

Tell Billy I'll be back.

Yeah. Hey, man, uh...

(grunts)

♪ ♪

(gunshot) (window shatters)

(doorbell rings)

(door closes)

Wilkerson. I'm sorry, but...

It's all right... Call off your dogs.

What?

Those deputies, Benedict and LeMaster.

The hunt's over.

I don't know what you're talking about.

You paid them off to cover up the truth

about Vic Henshaw's death.

When I started digging around,

they picked me up on a phony hit-and-run.

Oh, it was a nice frame, but I broke jail.

So you can call off your killers.

Will you tell my why I want to have you killed?

To stop me from nailing your son for the murder of Vic Henshaw.

Don...

is he right?

Is it true what he's saying? Don't answer her.

Yeah, it's true, I was at the plant Sunday...

WILKERSON: Shut up, I told you!

Dad, the alibi won't work,

no matter how much money you pay.

Look, I didn't even know Vic was there.

If I hit him, it was a stray,

or he walked into my field of fire...

Why didn't you say that before?

An accident is not premeditated murder.

Well, there were witnesses who said it wasn't an accident.

Benedict and LeMaster?

Yes.

They were driving by the plant.

They stopped when they heard shooting,

and they saw...

Don deliberately turn his fire on Vic.

So you made a deal.

They set it up to look like Don wasn't there.

They cleaned up the shells.

What you found, they missed, I guess.

Who fixed the coroner?

(sighs) Pete LeMaster.

Was the sheriff in on it?

I don't know.

How much did you pay?

Half a million.

Damn you and your money!

I love you, son.

You're all I have.

Did you want me to let them put you in a hospital

for the rest of your life?

Would you want that?

No.

What other choice did I have?

A lawyer could have pleaded involuntary manslaughter.

No, no, I went out to the plant with Benedict and LeMaster.

They showed me exactly how it happened.

Maybe Benedict and LeMaster

didn't show you all of it.

Now, if Vic fell from here, where were you?

There, on top of that tower.

Shooting which way?

Oh, at the gravel.

There. There.

I don't know, just around.

Then you could have hit him.

What else do you remember, Don?

Well, not much. I remember shooting.

Then I heard a horn.

I looked down, I saw Dave Benedict standing by his car,

and Pete LeMaster coming from the base of that deck.

Coming down those steps?

Find anything?

Yeah, I think so.

Someone else was shooting from this area.

Now, Vic fell from that walk up there.

There's a bullet hole in that plank that eliminates Don.

Are you sure?

There's no way Don could have made

that bullet hole from that angle.

(siren approaching)

You better get back down to that shack.

You, too, Don.

(siren approaching)

(gunshot)

(gunshot ricochets)

(gunshot)

Sheriff, call off that firing... Later! Get back!

Stop the firing! Get back in there!

All right, hold your fire.

Mannix!

I think I got him.

Come on! Shut it off!

(mechanical rumbling stops)

Mannix!

Throw your gun out and come on down!

Sheriff...

what'd it cost to fake the coroner's report?

What do you mean, fake?

Vic Henshaw wasn't drunk Sunday.

Someone was waiting right here all morning,

figuring that Don would show up with his M16.

And if he did, Vic Henshaw would come around

as usual to stop him.

What are you giving us, Mannix?

Someone shot Vic Henshaw because they wanted to frame Don,

and then make his father pay blackmail.

Wilkerson was paying off-- ask him.

Tom, you gonna swallow that bunch of lies?

Hold it.

Can you prove that, Mannix?

You come on up here, Sheriff, I'll prove it.

Stay put.

And no more shooting.

Mannix...

I'm coming up.

Mannix?

Show me.

Know anybody that smokes that brand, Sheriff?

I might.

But those could've been stashed there anytime.

When Don first noticed

Benedict and LeMaster here last Sunday,

LeMaster was walking from the base of this deck.

Okay, I'll check it out.

Now, give me the gun.

There's also a bullet hole in the plank

where Vic Henshaw was shot.

There's no way Don could've shot him from that angle.

The gun, Mannix.

You're asking me to believe

you had nothing to do with this whole thing, Sheriff?

That's a risk you'll have to take.

Come on.

There's probably more evidence up there.

Later, Dave.

Mannix, you got five minutes.

Go on back up there and find me that evidence.

♪ ♪

How's that?

Not from an M16, is it?

SHERIFF: 30-30, I'd say.

MANNIX: Valid autopsy ought to nail it down,

and the ballistics boys shouldn't have any trouble

proving Vic Henshaw was shot by one of these and not...

Dave, I wouldn't!

I'll say one thing for you, Mannix--

you really hang in there.

Who did you reach? The D.A.

He'll meet us at the courthouse with Judge Hiller.

Mr. Mannix, thank you.

My son was in a war,

and I guess I was just ready to believe anything.

Well, Mr. Wilkerson, in a war, even people thousands of miles

from where the fighting is can, uh, get all mixed up.